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diff --git a/old/44628-0.txt b/old/44628-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f940be3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/44628-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8931 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Nineteenth Century Questions, by James Freeman Clarke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nineteenth Century Questions + +Author: James Freeman Clarke + +Release Date: January 8, 2014 [EBook #44628] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + +By James Freeman Clarke, D.D. + + + TEN GREAT RELIGIONS. Part I. An Essay in Comparative Theology. + New _Popular Edition_. Crown 8vo, gilt top, $2.00. + + TEN GREAT RELIGIONS. Part II. Comparison of all Religions. Crown + 8vo, gilt top, $2.00. + + COMMON SENSE IN RELIGION. Crown 8vo, $2.00. + + MEMORIAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. Crown 8vo, $2.00. + + EVERY-DAY RELIGION. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + EVENTS AND EPOCHS IN RELIGIOUS HISTORY. With Maps and + Illustrations. Crown 8vo, $2.00. + + THE IDEAS OF THE APOSTLE PAUL. Translated into their Modern + Equivalents. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + SELF-CULTURE: Physical, Intellectual, Moral, and Spiritual. Crown + 8vo, $1.50. + + NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + EXOTICS. Poems translated from the French, German, and Italian, + by J. F. C. and L. C. 18mo, $1.00. + + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, + BOSTON AND NEW YORK. + + + + + NINETEENTH CENTURY + QUESTIONS + + BY + JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + 1897. + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY ELIOT C. CLARKE + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE + + +Shortly before his death, Dr. Clarke selected the material for this +book, and partly prepared it for publication. He wished thus to +preserve some of his papers which had excited interest when printed in +periodicals or read as lectures. + +With slight exceptions, the book is issued just as prepared by the +author. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + LITERARY STUDIES. + LYRIC AND DRAMATIC ELEMENTS IN LITERATURE AND ART 3 + DUALISM IN NATIONAL LIFE 28 + DID SHAKESPEARE WRITE BACON'S WORKS? 38 + THE EVOLUTION OF A GREAT POEM: GRAY'S ELEGY 60 + + RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL. + AFFINITIES OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY 71 + WHY I AM NOT A FREE-RELIGIONIST 90 + HAVE ANIMALS SOULS? 100 + APROPOS OF TYNDALL 128 + LAW AND DESIGN IN NATURE 149 + + HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL. + THE TWO CARLYLES, OR CARLYLE PAST AND PRESENT 162 + BUCKLE AND HIS THEORY OF AVERAGES 196 + VOLTAIRE 235 + RALPH WALDO EMERSON 270 + HARRIET MARTINEAU 284 + THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA 312 + + + + +LITERARY STUDIES + + + + +LYRIC AND DRAMATIC ELEMENTS IN LITERATURE AND ART + + +The German philosophy has made a distinction between the Subjective +and the Objective, which has been found so convenient that it has been +already naturalized and is almost acclimated in our literature. + +The distinction is this: in all thought there are two factors, the +thinker himself, and that about which he thinks. All thought, say our +friends the Germans, results from these two factors: the subject, or +the man thinking; and the object, what the man thinks about. All that +part of thought which comes from the man himself, the Ego, they call +subjective; all that part which comes from the outside world, the +non-Ego, they call objective. + +I am about to apply this distinction to literature and art; but instead +of the terms Subjective and Objective, I shall use the words Lyric and +Dramatic. + +For example, when a writer or an artist puts a great deal of himself +into his work, I call him a lyric writer or artist. Lyrical, in poetry, +is the term applied to that species of poetry which directly expresses +the individual emotions of the poet. On the other hand, I call an +artist or poet dramatic when his own personality disappears, and is +lost in that which he paints or describes. A lyric or subjective writer +gives us more of himself than of the outside world; a dramatic or +objective writer gives us more of the outside world than of himself. + +Lyric poetry is that which is to be sung; the lyre accompanies song. +Now, song is mainly personal or subjective. It expresses the singer's +personal emotions, feelings, desires; and for these reasons I select +this phrase "lyric" to express all subjective or personal utterances in +art. + +The drama, on the other hand, is a photograph of life; of live men +and women acting themselves out freely and individually. The dramatic +writer ought to disappear in his drama; if he does not do so he is not +a dramatic writer, but a lyrist in disguise. + +The dramatic element is the power of losing one's self--opinions, +feeling, character--in that which is outside and foreign, and +reproducing it just as it is. In perfect dramatic expression the +personal equation is wholly eliminated. The writer disappears in his +characters; his own hopes and fears, emotions and convictions, do not +color his work. + +But the lyric element works in the opposite way. In song, the singer +is prominent more than what he sings. He suffuses his subject with +his own thoughts and feelings. If he describes nature, he merely gives +us the feelings it awakens in his own mind. If he attempts to write a +play, we see the same actor thinly disguised reappearing in all the +parts. + +Now, there is a curious fact connected with this subject. It is that +great lyric and dramatic authors or artists are apt to appear in duads +or pairs. Whenever we meet with a highly subjective writer, we are +apt to find him associated with another as eminently objective. This +happens so often that one might imagine that each type of thought +attracts its opposite and tends to draw it out and develop it. It may +be that genius, when it acts on disciples who are persons of talent, +draws out what is like itself, and makes imitators; when it acts on a +disciple who himself possesses genius, it draws out what is opposite +to itself and develops another original thinker. Genius, like love, +is attracted by its opposite, or counterpart. Love and genius seek to +form wholes; they look for what will complete and fulfill themselves. +When, therefore, a great genius has come, fully developed on one side, +he exercises an irresistible attraction on the next great genius, +in whom the opposite side is latent, and is an important factor in +his development. Thus, perhaps, we obtain the duads, whose curious +concurrence I will now illustrate by a few striking instances. + +Beginning our survey with English literature, who are the first two +great poets whose names occur to us? Naturally, Chaucer and Spenser. +Now, Chaucer is eminently dramatic and objective in his genius; while +Spenser is distinctly a lyrical and subjective poet. + +Chaucer tells stories; and story-telling is objective. One of the most +renowned collections of stories is the "Arabian Nights;" but who knows +anything about the authors of those entertaining tales? They are merely +pictures of Eastern life, reflected in the minds of some impersonal +authors, whose names even are unknown. + +Homer is another great story-teller; and Homer is so objective, so +little of a personality, that some modern critics suppose there may +have been several Homers. + +Chaucer is a story-teller also; and in his stories everything belonging +to his age appears, except Chaucer himself. His writings are full of +pictures of life, sketches of character; in one word, he is a dramatic +or objective writer. He paints things as they are,--gives us a panorama +of his period. Knights, squires, yeomen, priests, friars, pass before +us, as in Tennyson's poem "The Lady of Shalott." + +The mind of an objective story-teller, like Chaucer, is the faithful +mirror, which impartially reflects all that passes before it, but +cracks from side to side whenever he lets a personal feeling enter his +mind, for then the drama suddenly disappears and a lyric of personal +hope or fear, gladness or sadness, takes its place. + +Spenser is eminently a lyric poet. His own genius suffuses his stories +with a summer glow of warm, tender, generous sentiment. In his +descriptions of nature he does not catalogue details, but suggests +impressions, which is the only way of truly describing nature. There +are some writers who can describe scenery, so that the reader feels as +if he had seen it himself. The secret of all such description is that +it does not count or measure, but suggests. It is not quantitative +but qualitative analysis. It does not apply a foot rule to nature, +but gives the impression made on the mind and heart by the scene. I +have never been at Frascati nor in Sicily, but I can hardly persuade +myself that I have not seen those places. I have distinct impressions +of both, simply from reading two of George Sand's stories. I have in +my mind a picture of Frascati, with deep ravines, filled with foliage; +with climbing, clustering, straggling vines and trees and bushes; with +overhanging crags, deep masses of shadow below, bright sunshine on +the stone pines above. So I have another picture of Sicilian scenery, +wide and open, with immense depths of blue sky, and long reaches of +landscape; ever-present Etna, soaring snow-clad into the still air; an +atmosphere of purity, filling the heart with calm content. It may be +that Catania and Frascati are not like this; but I feel as if I had +seen them, not as if I had heard them described. + +It is thus that Spenser describes nature; by touching some chord of +fancy in the soul. Notice this picture of a boat on the sea:-- + + "So forth they rowëd; and that Ferryman + With his stiff oars did brush the sea so strong + That the hoar waters from his frigate ran, + And the light bubbles dancëd all along + Whiles the salt brine out of the billows sprang; + At last, far off, they many islands spy, + On every side, floating the floods among." + +You notice that you are in the boat yourself, and everything is told +as it appears to you there; you see the bending of the "stiff oars" +by your side, and the little bubbles dancing on the water, and the +islands, not as they _are_, rock-anchored, but as they _seem_ to you, +floating on the water. This is subjective description,--putting the +reader in the place, and letting him see it all from that point of +view. So Spenser speaks of the "oars sweeping the watery wilderness;" +and of the gusty winds "filling the sails with fear." + +Perhaps the highest description ought to include both the lyric and +dramatic elements. Here is a specimen of sea description, by an almost +unknown American poet, Fenner, perfect in its way. The poem is called +"Gulf Weed:"-- + + "A weary weed washed to and fro, + Drearily drenched in the ocean brine; + Soaring high, or sinking low, + Lashed along without will of mine; + Sport of the spoom of the surging sea, + Flung on the foam afar and near; + Mark my manifold mystery, + Growth and grace in their place appear. + + "I bear round berries, gray and red, + Rootless and rover though I be; + My spangled leaves, when nicely spread, + Arboresce as a trunkless tree; + Corals curious coat me o'er + White and hard in apt array; + Mid the wild waves' rude uproar + Gracefully grow I, night and day. + + "Hearts there are on the sounding shore, + (Something whispers soft to me,) + Restless and roaming for evermore, + Like this weary weed of the sea; + Bear they yet on each beating breast + The eternal Type of the wondrous whole, + Growth unfolding amidst unrest, + Grace informing the silent soul." + +All nature becomes alive in the Spenserian description. Take, for +example, the wonderful stanza which describes the music of the "Bower +of Bliss:"-- + + "The joyous birds, shrouded in cheerful shade + Their notes unto the voice attemper'd sweet; + Th' angelical, soft, trembling voices made + To the instruments divine respondence meet; + The silver-sounding instruments did meet + With the bass murmur of the water's fall; + The water's fall, with difference discreet, + Now loud, now low, unto the winds did call; + The gentle warbling winds low answerëd to all." + +Consider the splendid portrait of Belphœbe:-- + + "In her fair eyes two living lamps did flame, + Kindled above at the Heavenly Maker's light; + And darted fiery beams out of the same, + So passing piercing, and so wondrous bright, + They quite bereaved the rash beholder's sight; + In them the blinded god his lustful fire + To kindle oft essay'd but had no might, + For with dread majesty and awful ire + She broke his wanton darts and quenchëd base desire. + + "Her ivory forehead, full of bounty brave, + Like a broad tablet did itself dispread, + For love his lofty triumphs to engrave, + And write the battles of his great godhead; + All good and honor might therein be read, + For there their dwelling was; and when she spake, + Sweet words, like dropping honey she did shed; + And, twixt the pearls and rubies softly brake + A silver Sound, that heavenly music seemed to make." + +If we examine this picture, we see that it is not a photograph, such as +the sun makes, but a lover's description of his mistress. He sees her, +not as she is, but as she is to _him_. He paints her out of his own +heart. In her eyes he sees, not only brilliancy and color, but heavenly +light; he reads in them an untouched purity of soul. Looking at her +forehead, he sees, not whiteness and roundness, but goodness and honor. + +Shakespeare's lovers always describe their mistresses in this way, +out of their own soul and heart. It is his own feeling that the lover +gives, seeing perhaps "Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt." + +After Chaucer and Spenser the next great English poets whose names +naturally occur to us are Shakespeare and Milton. + +Now, Shakespeare was the most objective dramatic writer who ever lived; +while Milton was eminently and wholly a subjective and lyrical writer. + +It is true that Shakespeare was so great that he is one of the very +few men of genius in whom appear both of these elements. In his plays +he is so objective that he is wholly lost in his characters, and +his personality absolutely disappears; in his sonnets he "unlocks +his heart" and is lyrical and subjective; he there gives us his +inmost self, and we seem to know him as we know a friend with whom +we have lived in intimate relations for years. Still, he will be +best remembered by his plays; and into them he put the grandeur and +universality of his genius; so we must necessarily consider him as the +greatest dramatic genius of all time. But he belonged to a group of +dramatic poets of whom he was the greatest: Ben Jonson, Beaumont and +Fletcher, Massinger, Ford, Webster,--any one of whom would make the +fortune of the stage to-day. It was a great age of dramatic literature, +and it came very naturally to meet a demand. The play then was what the +novel is to-day. As people to-day have no sooner read a new novel than +they want another, so, in Shakespeare's time, they had no sooner seen +a new play than they ran to see another. Hence the amazing fertility +of the dramatic writers. Thomas Heywood wrote the whole or a part +of two hundred and twenty plays. The manager of one of the theatres +bought a hundred and six new plays for his stage in six years; and in +the next five years a hundred and sixty. The price paid to an author +for a play would now be equal to about two or three hundred dollars. +The dramatic element, as is natural, abounds in these writings, though +in some of them the author's genius is plainly lyrical. Such, for +example, is Massinger's, who always reminds me of Schiller. Both wrote +plays, but in both writers the faculty of losing themselves in their +characters is wanting. The nobleness of Schiller appears in all his +works, and constitutes a large part of their charm. So in Massinger all +tends to generosity and elevation. His worst villains are ready to be +converted and turn saints at the least provocation. Their wickedness is +in a condition of unstable equilibrium; it topples over, and goodness +becomes supreme in a single moment. Massinger could not create really +wicked people; their wickedness is like a child's moment of passion +or willfulness, ending presently in a flood of tears, and a sweet +reconciliation with his patient mother. But how different was it with +Shakespeare! Consider his Iago. How deeply rooted was his villainy! +how it was a part of the very texture of his being! He had conformed to +it the whole philosophy of his life. His cynical notions appear in the +first scene. Iago _believes_ in meanness, selfishness, everything that +is base; to him all that seems good is either a pretense or a weakness. +The man who does not seek the gratification of his own desires is a +fool. There is to Iago nothing sweet, pure, fair, or true, in this +world or the next. He profanes everything he touches. He sneers at the +angelic innocence of Desdemona; he sneers at the generous, impulsive +soul of Othello. When some one speaks to him of virtue, he says +"Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies +are our gardens, to which our wills are gardeners." You can plant +nettles or lettuce as you please. That is to say, there is no reality +in goodness. The virtue of Desdemona will be gone to-morrow, if she +takes the whim. The Moor's faith in goodness is folly; it will cause +him to be led by the nose. There is no converting such a man as that; +or only when, by means of terrible disappointments and anguish, he is +brought to see the reality of human goodness and divine providence. And +that can hardly happen to him in this world. + +Iago is a murderer of the soul, Macbeth a murderer of the body. +The wickedness of Macbeth is different from that of Iago; that of +Shylock and of Richard Third different again from either. Macbeth +is a half-brute, a man in a low state of development, with little +intellect and strong passions. Shylock is a highly intellectual man, +not a cynic like Iago, but embittered by ill-treatment, made venomous +by cruel wrong and perpetual contempt. Oppression has made this wise +man mad. Richard Third, originally bad, has been turned into a cruel +monster by the egotism born of power. He has the contempt for his race +that belongs to the aristocrat, who looks on men in humbler places +as animals of a lower order made for his use or amusement. Now, this +wonderful power of differentiating characters belongs to the essence +of the dramatic faculty. Each of these is developed from within, from +a personal centre, and is true to that. Every manifestation of this +central life is correlated to every other. If one of Shakespeare's +characters says but ten words in one scene, and then ten words more in +another, we recognize him as the same person. His speech bewrayeth him. +So it is in human life. Every man is fatally consistent with himself. +So, after we have seen a number of pictures by any one of the great +masters, we recognize him again, as soon as we enter a gallery. We know +him by a certain style. Inferior artists have a manner; great artists +have a style; manner is born of imitation; style of originality. So, +there is a special quality in every human being, if he will only allow +it to unfold. The dramatic faculty recognizes this. Its knowledge +of man is not a philosophy, nor a mere knowledge of human nature, +but a perception of individual character. It first integrates men as +human beings; then differentiates them as individuals. Play-writers, +novelists, and artists who do not possess this dramatic genius cannot +grow their characters from within, from a personal centre of life; +but build them up from without, according to a plan. In description +of nature, however, Shakespeare is, as he ought to be, subjective and +lyric; he touches nature with human feelings. Take his description of a +brook:-- + + "The current that with gentle murmur glides + Thou know'st, being stopp'd impatiently doth rage; + But when his fair course is not hindered, + He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones, + Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge + He overtaketh in his pilgrimage, + And so by many winding nooks he strays + With willing sport to the wild ocean." + +The brook is gentle; then it becomes angry; then it is pacified and +begins to sing; then it stops to kiss the sedge; then it is a pilgrim; +and it walks _willingly_ on to the ocean. + +So in his sonnet:-- + + "Full many a glorious morning have I seen + Flatter the mountain top with sovereign eye; + Kissing with golden face the meadows green, + Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; + Anon permit the basest clouds to ride + With ugly rack on his celestial face; + And from the forlorn world his visage hide, + Stealing unseen to west with his disgrace; + Even so my sun one early morn did shine, + With all triumphant splendor on my brow; + But out, alack! he was but one hour mine; + The region cloud hath masked him from me now; + Yet him, for this, my love no whit disdaineth, + Suns of this world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth." + +From Shakespeare, the marvel of dramatic genius, turn to Milton, and we +find the opposite tendency unfolded. + +The "Paradise Lost" is indeed dramatic in form, with different +characters and dialogues, in hell, on earth, and in heaven. But in +essence it is undramatic. Milton is never for a moment lost in his +characters; his grand and noble soul is always appearing. Every one +speaks as Milton would have spoken had Milton been in the same place, +and looked at things from the same point of view. Sin and Satan, for +example, both talk like John Milton. Sin is very conscientious, and +before she will unlock the gate of hell she is obliged to argue herself +into a conviction that it is right to do so. Satan, she says, is her +father, and children ought to obey their parents; so, since he tells +her to unlock the gate, she ought to do so. Death reproaches Satan, in +good set terms, for his treason against the Almighty; and Satan, as we +all know, utters the noblest sentiments, and talks as Milton would have +talked, had Milton been in Satan's position.[1] + +Coming down nearer to our own time, we find a duad of great English +poets, usually associated in our minds,--Byron and Scott. + +Scott was almost the last of the dramatic poets of England, using the +word dramatic in its large sense. His plays never amounted to much; but +his stories in verse and in prose are essentially dramatic. In neither +does he reveal himself. In all his poetry you scarcely find a reference +to his personal feelings. In the L'Envoi to the "Lady of the Lake" +there is a brief allusion of this sort, touching because so unusual, +and almost the only one I now recall. Addressing the "Harp of the +North" he says:-- + + "Much have I owed thy strains through life's long way, + Through secret woes the world has never known, + When on the weary night dawned wearier day, + And bitterer was the grief devoured alone; + That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own." + +Scott, like Chaucer, brings before us a long succession of characters, +from many classes, countries, and times. Scotch barons and freebooters, +English kings, soldiers, gentlemen, crusaders, Alpine peasants, +mediæval counts, serfs, Jews, Saxons,--brave, cruel, generous,--all +sweep past us, in a long succession of pictures; but of Scott himself +nothing appears except the nobleness and purity of the tone which +pervades all. He is therefore eminently a dramatic or objective writer. + +But Byron is the exact opposite. The mighty exuberance of his genius, +which captivated his age, and the echoes of which thrill down to +ours, in all its vast overflow of passion, imagination, wit,--ever +sounded but one strain,--himself. His own woes, his own wrongs are +the ever-recurring theme. Though he wrote many dramas, he was more +undramatic than Milton. Every character in every play is merely a +thinly disguised Byron. It was impossible for him to get away from +himself. If Tennyson's lovely line tells the truth when he says,-- + + "Love took up the harp of life and smote on all its chords with + might; + Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of + sight:" + +then Byron never really loved; for in his poetry the chord of self +never passes out of sight. + +In his plays the principal characters are Byron undiluted--as Manfred, +Sardanapalus, Cain, Werner, Arnold. All the secondary characters are +Byron more or less diluted,--Byron and water, may we say? Never, since +the world began, has there been a poet so steeped in egotism, so sick +of self-love as he; and the magnificence of his genius appears in the +unfailing interest which he can give to this monotonous theme. + +But he was the example of a spirit with which the whole age was filled +to saturation. Almost all the nineteenth century poets of England are +subjective, giving us their own experience, sentiments, reflections, +philosophies. Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, Keats, revolve in this +enchanted and enchanting circle. Keats and Coleridge seem capable of +something different. So, in the double star, made up of Wordsworth +and Coleridge, the first is absolutely personal and lyric, the second +sometimes objective and dramatic. And in that other double star of +Shelley and Keats the same difference may be noted. + +A still more striking instance of the combination of these antagonisms +is to be found in our time, in Robert Browning and his wife. Mrs. +Browning is wholly lyric, like a bird which sings its own tender song +of love and hope and faith till "that wild music burdens every bough;" +and those "mournful hymns" hush the night to listening sympathy. + +But in her husband we have a genuine renaissance of the old dramatic +power of the English bards. Robert Browning is _so_ dramatic that +he forgets himself and his readers too, in his characters and their +situations. To study the varieties of men and women is his joy; to +reproduce them unalloyed, his triumph. + +One curious instance of this self-oblivious immersion in the creations +of his mind occurs to me. In one of his early poems called "In a +Gondola"--as it first appeared--two lovers are happily conversing, +until in a moment, we know not why, the tone becomes one of despair, +and they bid each other an eternal farewell. Why this change of tone +there is no explanation. In a later edition he condescends to inform +us, inserting a note to this effect: "He is surprised and stabbed." +This is the opposite extreme to Milton's angels carefully explaining to +each other that they possess a specific levity which enables them to +drop upward. + +If we think of our own poets whose names are usually +connected,--Longfellow and Lowell, for instance,--we shall easily see +which is dramatic and which lyric. But the only man of truly dramatic +faculty whom we have possessed was one in whom the quality never fully +ripened,--I mean Edgar Allan Poe. + +In foreign literature we may trace the same tendency of men of genius +to arrange themselves in couplets. Take, for instance, in Italy, +Dante and Petrarch; in France, Voltaire and Rousseau; in Germany, +Goethe and Schiller. Dante is dramatic, losing himself in his stern +subject, his dramatic characters; his awful pictures of gloomy destiny. +Petrarch is lyrical, personal, singing forever his own sad and sweet +fate. Again, Voltaire is essentially dramatic,--immersed in things, +absorbed in life, a man reveling in all human accident and adventure, +and aglow with faith in an earthly paradise. The sad Rousseau goes +apart, away from men; standing like Byron, among them, but not of them; +in a cloud of thoughts that are not their thoughts. And, once more, +though Goethe resembles Shakespeare in this, that some of his works +are subjective, and others objective,--though, in the greatness of his +mind he reconciles all the usual antagonisms of thought,--yet the fully +developed Goethe, like the fully developed Shakespeare, disappears +in his characters and theme. Life to him, in all its forms, was so +intensely interesting that his own individual and subjective sentiments +are left out of sight. But Schiller stands opposed to Goethe, as being +a dramatist devoid of dramatic genius, but full of personal power; +so grand in his nobleness of soul, so majestic in the aspirations of +his sentiment, so full of patriotic ardor and devotion to truth and +goodness, that he moves all hearts as he walks through his dramas,--the +great poet visible in every scene and every line. As his tried and +noble friend says of him in an equally undying strain:-- + + "Burned in his cheek, with ever-deepening fire, + The spirit's youth, which never passes by; + The courage, which though worlds in hate conspire, + Conquers at last their dull hostility; + The lofty faith, which ever, mounting higher, + Now presses on, now waiteth patiently; + By which the good tends ever to its goal-- + By which day lights at last the generous soul." + +Goethe's characters and stories covered the widest range: Faust, made +sick with too much thought, and seeking outward joy as a relief; +Werther, a self-absorbed sentimentalist; Tasso, an Italian man of +genius, a mixture of imagination, aspiration, sensitive self-distrust; +susceptible to opinion, sympathetic; Iphigenia, a picture of antique +calm, simplicity, purity, classic repose, like that of a statue; +Hermann and Dorothea, a sweet idyl of modern life, in a simple-minded +German village with an opinionated, honest landlord, a talkative +apothecary, a motherly landlady, a sensible and good pastor, and the +two young lovers. + +This law of duality, or reaction of genius on genius, will also be +found to apply to artists, philosophers, historians, orators. These +also come in pairs, manifesting the same antagonistic qualities. + +Some artists are lyric; putting their own souls into every face, every +figure, making even a landscape alive with their own mood; adding-- + + "A gleam + Of lustre known to neither sea nor land + But borrowed from the poet-painter's dream." + +In every landscape of Claude we find the soul of Claude; in every +rugged rock-defile of Salvator we read his mood. These artists are +lyric; but there are also great dramatic painters, who give you, not +themselves, but men and women; so real, so differentiated, characters +so full of the variety and antagonism of nature, that the whole life of +a period springs into being at their touch. + +Take for instance two names, which always go together, standing side +by side at the summit of Italian art,--Michael Angelo and Raphael. +Though Raphael was a genius of boundless exuberance, and poured on the +wall and canvas a flood of forms, creating as nature creates, without +pause or self-repetition, yet there is a tone in all which irresistibly +speaks of the artist's own soul. He created a world of Raphaels. Grace, +sweetness, and tenderness went into all his work. Every line has the +same characteristic qualities. + +Turn to the frescoes by Michael Angelo in the Sistine Chapel. As we +look up at those mighty forms--prophets, sibyls, seers, with multitudes +of subordinate figures--we gradually trace in each prophet, king, or +bard an individual character. Each one is himself. How fully each face +and attitude is differentiated by some inward life. How each--David, +Isaiah, Ezekiel, the Persian and the Libyan sibyl--stands out, +distinct, filled with a power or a tenderness all his own. Michael +Angelo himself is not there, except as a fountain of creative life, +from whose genius all these majestic persons come forth as living +realities. + +Hanging on my walls are the well-known engravings of Guido's Aurora and +Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper. One of these is purely lyrical; the +other as clearly dramatic. + +The Aurora is so exquisitely lovely, the forms so full of grace, the +movement of all the figures so rapid yet so firm, that I can never pass +it without stopping to enjoy its charms. But variety is absent. The +hours are lovely sisters, as Ovid describes sisters:-- + + "Facies non omnibus una, + Nec diversa tamen, qualis decet esse sororum." + +But when we turn to the Last Supper, we see the dramatic artist at his +best. The subject is such as almost to compel a monotonous treatment, +but there is a wonderful variety in the attitudes and grouping. Each +apostle shows by his attitude, gesture, expression, that he is affected +differently from all the others. Even the feet under the table speak. +Stand before the picture; put yourself into the attitude of each +apostle, and you will immediately understand his state of mind.[2] + +The mediæval religious artists were subjective, sentimental, lyrical. +In a scene like the crucifixion, all the characters, whether apostles, +Roman soldiers, or Jewish Pharisees, hang their heads like bulrushes. + +But see how Rubens, that great dramatic painter, represents the +scene. The Magdalen, wild with grief, with disheveled hair, has thrown +herself at the foot of the cross, clasping and kissing the feet of +Jesus. On the other faces are terror, dismay, doubt, unbelief, mockery, +curiosity, triumph, despair,--according to each person's character and +attitude toward the event. Meantime the Roman centurion, seated on his +splendid horse, is deliberately and carefully striking his spear into +the side of the sufferer. His face expresses only that he has a duty to +perform and means to fulfill it perfectly. + +As Rubens is greatly dramatic, his pupil and follower, Vandyke, is a +great lyrical artist, whose noble aspiration and generous sentiment +shows itself in all his work. + +The school of Venice, with Titian and Tintoretto at its head, is +grandly dramatic and objective. The school of Florence, with Guido and +Domenichino at its head, eminently lyrical and subjective. + +If we had time, we might show that the two masters of Greek philosophy, +Plato and Aristotle, are, the one lyrical, and intensely subjective, +platonizing the universe; and the other as evidently objective, +immersed in the study of things; rejoicing in their variety, their +individuality, their persistence of type. + +The two masters of Greek history, Herodotus and Thucydides, stand +opposed to each other in the same way. Herodotus is the story-teller, +the dramatic raconteur, whose charming tales are as entertaining as the +"Arabian Nights." Thucydides is the personal historian who puts himself +into his story, and determines its meaning and moral according to his +own theories and convictions. + +We have another example in Livy and Tacitus. + +The two great American orators most frequently mentioned together are +Webster and Clay. Though you would smile if I were to call either of +them a lyric or a dramatic speaker, yet the essential distinction we +have been considering may be clearly seen in them. Clay's inspiration +was personal, his influence, personal influence. His theme was nothing; +his treatment of it everything. But Webster rose or fell with the +magnitude and importance of the occasion and argument. When on the +wrong side, he failed, for his intellect would not work well except in +the service of reality and truth. But Clay was perhaps greatest when +arguing against all facts and all reason. Then he summoned all his +powers,--wit, illustration, analogy, syllogisms, appeals to feeling, +prejudice, and passion; and so swept along his confused and blinded +audience to his conclusions. + +I think that subjective writers are loved more than dramatic. We admire +the one and we love the other. We admire Shakespeare and love Milton; +we admire Chaucer and love Spenser; we admire Dante and love Petrarch; +we admire Goethe and love Schiller; and if Byron had not been so +selfish a man, we should have loved him too. We admire Michael Angelo +and love Raphael; we admire Rubens and love Vandyke; we admire Robert +Browning and love Mrs. Browning. In short, we care more for the man who +gives us himself than for the man who gives us the whole outside world. + +I have been able to give you only a few hints of this curious +distinction in art and literature. But if we carry it in our mind, we +shall find it a key by which many doors may be unlocked. It will enable +us to classify authors, and understand them better. + + + + +DUALISM IN NATIONAL LIFE + + +The science of comparative ethnology is one which has been greatly +developed during the last twenty-five years. The persistence of +race tendencies, as in the Semitic tribes, Jews and Arabs, or in +the Teutonic and Celtic branches of the great Aryan stock, has been +generally admitted. Though few would now say, with the ethnologist +Knox, "Race is everything," none would wholly dispense with this +factor, as Buckle did, in writing a history of civilization. + +Racial varieties have existed from prehistoric times. Their origin is +lost in the remote past. As far as history goes back, we find them the +same that they are now. When and how the primitive stock differentiated +itself into the great varieties which we call Aryan, Semitic, and +Turanian, no one can tell. But there are well-established varieties of +which we can trace the rise and development; I mean national varieties. +The character of an Englishman or a Frenchman is as distinctly marked +as that of a Greek or Roman. There is a general resemblance among all +Englishmen; and the same kind of resemblance among all Frenchmen, +Spaniards, Swedes, Poles. But this crystallization into national types +of character has taken place in a comparatively short period. We look +back to a time when there were no Englishmen in Great Britain; but only +Danes, Saxons, Normans, and Celts; no Frenchmen in France; but Gauls, +Franks, and Romans. Gradually a distinct quality emerges, and we have +Frenchmen, Italians, Englishmen. The type, once arrived at, persists, +and becomes more marked. It is marked by personal looks and manners, +by a common temperament, a common style of thinking, feeling, acting; +the same kind of morals and manners. This type was formed by the action +and reaction of the divers races brought side by side--Normans and +Saxons mutually influencing each other in England, and being influenced +again by climate, conditions of life, forms of government, national +customs. So, at last, we have the well-developed national character,--a +mysterious but very certain element, from which no individual can +wholly escape. All drink of that one spirit. + +Thus far I have been stating what we all know. But now I would call +your attention to a curious fact, which, so far as I am aware, has not +before been noticed. It is this,--that when two nations, during their +forming period, have been in relation to each other, there will be a +peculiar character developed in each. That is to say, they will differ +from each other according to certain well-defined lines, and these +differences will repeat themselves again and again in history, in +curious parallelisms, or dualisms. + +To take the most familiar illustration of this: consider the national +qualities of the French and English. The English and French, during +several centuries, have been acting and reacting on each other, both +in war and peace. Now, what are the typical characteristics of these +two nations? Stated in a broad way they might be described something as +follows:-- + +The English mind is more practical than ideal; its movement is slow +but persistent; its progress is by gradual development; it excels in +the industrial arts; it reverences power; it loves liberty more than +equality, not objecting to an aristocracy. It tends to individualism. +Its conquests have been due to the power of order, and adherence to law. + +The French mind is more ideal than practical; versatile, rather than +persistent; its movements rapid, its progress by crises and revolution, +rather than by development; it excels in whatever is tasteful and +artistic; it admires glory rather than power; loves equality more than +liberty; objects to an aristocracy, but is ready to yield individual +rights at the bidding of the community; renouncing individualism for +the sake of communism; and its successes have been due to enthusiasm +rather than to organization. + +Next, look at the Greeks and Romans. These peoples were in intimate +relations during the forming period of national life; and we find in +them much the same contrasts of character that we do in the English and +the French. The Romans were deficient in imagination, rather prosaic, +fond of rule and fixed methods, conservative of ancient customs. The +Greeks were quick and versatile; artistic to a high degree; producing +masterpieces of architecture, painting, statuary, and creating every +form of literature; inventing the drama, the epic poem, oratory, odes, +history, philosophy. The Romans borrowed from them their art and their +literature, but were themselves the creators of law, the organizers of +force. The Greeks and Romans were the English and French of antiquity; +and you will notice that they occupy geographically the same relative +positions,--the Greeks and French on the east; the Romans and English +on the west. + +But now observe another curious fact. The Roman Empire and the Greek +republics came to an end; and in Greece no important nationality took +the place of those wonderful commonwealths. But in Italy, by the union +of the old inhabitants with the Teutonic northern invaders, modern +Italy was slowly formed into a new national life. No longer deriving +any important influence from Greece (which had ceased to be a living +and independent force), Italy, during the Middle Ages, came into +relations with Spain and the Spaniards. In Spain, as in Italy, a new +national life was in process of formation by the union of the Gothic +tribes, the Mohammedan invaders, and the ancient inhabitants. The +Spaniards occupied Sicily in 1282, and Naples fell later into their +hands, about 1420, and in 1526 took possession of Milan. Thus Italy and +Spain were entangled in complex relations during their forming period. +What was the final result? Modern Italians became the very opposite of +the ancient Romans. The Spaniards on the west are now the Romans, and +the Italians, the Greeks. The Spaniards are slow, strong, conservative; +the Italians, quick-witted, full of feeling and sentiment, versatile. +The Spaniards trust to organization, the Italians to enthusiasm. The +Spaniards are practical, the Italians ideal. In fine, the Spaniards, on +the west, are like the English and the ancient Romans; the Italians, +on the east, like the French and the Greeks. The English pride, the +Roman pride, the Spanish pride, we have all heard of; but the French, +the Greeks, and the Italians are not so much inclined to pride and the +love of power, as to vanity and the love of fame. England, Rome, and +Spain, united by law and the love of organization, gradually became +solidified into empires; Greece, Italy, and France were always divided +into independent states, provinces, or republics. + +Now, let us go east and consider two empires that have grown up, side +by side, with constant mutual relations: Japan and China. The people +of Japan, on the east, are described by all travelers in language +that might be applied to the ancient Greeks or the modern French. They +are said to be quick-witted, lively, volatile, ready of apprehension, +with a keen sense of honor, which prefers death to disgrace; eminently +a social and pleasure-seeking people, fond of feasts, dancing, music, +and frolics. Men and women are pleasing, polite, affable. On the +other hand, the Chinese are described as more given to reason than +to sentiment, prosaic, slow to acquire, but tenacious of all that is +gained, very conservative, great lovers of law and order; with little +taste for art, but much national pride. They are the English of Asia; +the Japanese, the French. + +Go back to earlier times, when the two oldest branches of the great +Aryan stock diverged on the table-lands of central Asia; the Vedic +race descending into India, and the Zend people passing west, into +Persia. The same duplex development took place that we have seen +in other instances. The people on the Indus became what they still +are,--a people of sentiment and feeling. Like the French, they are +polite, and cultivate civility and courtesy. The same tendency to +local administration which we see in France is found in India; the +commune being, in both, the germ-cell of national life. The village +communities in India are little republics, almost independent of +anything outside. Dynasties change, new rulers and kings arrive; +Hindoo, Mohammedan, English; but the village community remains the +same. Like the Japanese, the French, the Italians, the inhabitants +of India are skillful manufacturers of ornamental articles. Their +religion tends to sentiment more than to morality,--to feeling, rather +than to action. This is the development which India took when these +races inhabited the Punjaub. But the ancient Persians were different. +Their religion included a morality which placed its essence in right +thinking and right action. A sentimental religion, like that of India +and of Italy, tends to the adoration of saints and holy images and to +multiplied ceremonies. A moral religion, like that of Persia, of Judea, +and of the Teutonic races, tends to the adoration and service of the +unseen. The Hindoos had innumerable gods, temples, idols. The Persians +worshiped the sacred fire, without temple, priest, altar, sacrifice, +or ritual. The ancient Persians, wholly unlike the modern Persians, +were a people of action, energy, enterprise. But when the old Persian +empire fell, the character of the people changed. Just as in Italy +the old Roman type disappeared, and was replaced by the opposite in +the modern Italian, so modern Persia has swung round to the opposite +pole of national character. The Persians and Turks, both professing +the Mohammedan religion, belong to different sects of that faith. The +Turks are proud, tenacious of old customs, grave in their demeanor, +generally just in their dealings, keeping their word. The Persians, as +they appear in the works of Malcolm and Monier, are changeable, kindly, +polite, given to ceremonies, fond of poetry, with taste for fine art +and decoration,--a mobile people. The Turk is silent, the Persian +talkative. The Turk is proud and cold, the Persian affable and full of +sentiment. In short, the Persian is the Frenchman, and the Turk the +Englishman. And here again, as in the other cases, the French type of +nationality unfolds itself on the east, and the English on the west. + +These national doubles have not been exhausted. We have other instances +of twin nations, born of much the same confluence of race elements, +of whom, as of Esau and Jacob, it might be predicted to the mother +race, "Two nations shall be born of thee; two kinds of people shall go +forth from thee; and the one shall be stronger than the other." Thus +there are the twin races which inhabit Sweden and Norway; the Swedes, +on the east, are more intelligent, quick-witted, and versatile; the +Norwegians, on the west, slow, persistent, and disposed to foreign +conquest and adventure, as shown in the sea-kings, who discovered +Iceland, Greenland, and Vinland; and the modern emigrants who reap the +vast wheatfields of Minnesota. So, too, we might speak of the Poles and +Germans. The Polish nation, on the east, resembling the French; the +German, on the west, the English. + +But time will not allow me to carry out these parallels into details. +The question is, are these mere coincidences, or do they belong to the +homologons of history, where the same law of progress repeats itself +under different conditions, as the skeleton of the mammal is found in +the whale. Such curious homologons we find in national events, and they +can hardly be explained as accidental coincidences. For instance, the +English and French revolutions proceeded by six identical steps. First, +an insurrection of the people. Secondly, the dethronement and execution +of the king. Thirdly, a military usurper. Fourthly, the old line +restored. Fifthly, after the death of the restored king, his brother +succeeds to the throne. Sixthly, a second revolution drives the brother +into exile, and a constitutional king of a collateral branch takes his +place. + +But if these doubles which I have described come by some mysterious law +of polar force, as in the magnet, where the two kinds of electricity +are repelled to opposite poles, and yet attract each other, how +account for the regularity of the geographical position? Why is the +French, Greek, Hindoo, Persian, Italian, Polish, Swedish type always +at the east, and the English, Roman, Iranic, Ottoman, Spanish, German, +Norwegian type always at the west? Are nations, like tides, affected +by the diurnal revolution of the globe? This, I confess, I am unable +to explain; and I leave it to others to consider whether what I have +described is pure coincidence, or if it belongs in some way to the +philosophy of history and comes under universal law. + + + + +DID SHAKESPEARE WRITE BACON'S WORKS[3] + + +The greatest of English poets is Shakespeare. The greatest prose writer +in English literature is probably Bacon. Each of these writers, alone, +is a marvel of intellectual grandeur. It is hard to understand how +one man, in a few years, could have written all the masterpieces of +Shakespeare,--thirty-six dramas, each a work of genius such as the +world will never let die. It is a marvel that from one mind could +proceed the tender charm of such poems as "Romeo and Juliet," "As You +Like It," or "The Winter's Tale;" the wild romance of "The Tempest," +or of "A Midsummer Night's Dream;" the awful tragedies of "Lear," +"Macbeth," and "Othello;" the profound philosophy of "Hamlet;" the +perfect fun of "Twelfth Night," and "The Merry Wives of Windsor;" and +the reproductions of Roman and English history. It is another marvel +that a man like Bacon, immersed nearly all his life in business, a +successful lawyer, an ambitious statesman, a courtier cultivating the +society of the sovereign and the favorites of the sovereign, should +also be the founder of a new system of philosophy, which has been the +source of many inventions and new sciences down to the present day; +should have critically surveyed the whole domain of knowledge, and +become a master of English literary style. Each of these phenomena is +a marvel; but put them together, and assume that one man did it all, +and you have, not a marvel, but a miracle. Yet, this is the result +which the monistic tendency of modern thought has reached. Several +critics of our time have attempted to show that Bacon, besides writing +all the works usually attributed to him, was also the author of all of +Shakespeare's plays and poems. + +This theory was first publicly maintained by Miss Delia Bacon in +1857. It had been, before, in 1856, asserted by an Englishman, +William Henry Smith, but only in a small volume printed for private +circulation. This book made a distinguished convert in the person of +Lord Palmerston, who openly declared his conviction that Bacon was the +author of Shakespeare's plays. Two papers by Appleton Morgan, written +in the same sense, appeared last year in "Appletons' Journal." But far +the most elaborate and masterly work in support of this attempt to +dethrone Shakespeare, and to give his seat on the summit of Parnassus +to Lord Bacon, is the book by Judge Holmes, published in 1866. He has +shown much ability, and brought forward every argument which has any +plausibility connected with it. + +Judge Holmes was, of course, obliged to admit the extreme antecedent +improbability of his position. Certainly it is very difficult to +believe that the author of such immortal works should have been +willing, for any reason, permanently to conceal his authorship; or, +if he could hide that fact, should have been willing to give the +authorship to another; or, if willing, should have been able so +effectually to conceal the substitution as to blind the eyes of all +mankind down to the days of Miss Delia Bacon and Judge Holmes. + +What, then, are the arguments used by Judge Holmes? The proofs he +adduces are mainly these: (1st) That there are many coincidences and +parallelisms of thought and expression between the works of Bacon and +Shakespeare; (2d) that there is an amount of knowledge and learning +in the plays, which Lord Bacon possessed, but which Shakespeare could +hardly have had. Besides these principal proofs, there are many other +reasons given which are of inferior weight,--a phrase in a letter of +Sir Tobie Matthew; another sentence of Bacon himself, which might be +possibly taken as an admission that he was the author of "Richard II.;" +the fact that some plays which Shakespeare certainly did not write were +first published with his name or his initials. But his chief argument +is that Shakespeare had neither the learning nor the time to write the +plays, both of which Lord Bacon possessed; and that there are curious +coincidences between the plays and the prose works. + +These arguments have all been answered, and the world still believes in +Shakespeare as before. But I have thought it might be interesting to +show how easily another argument could be made of an exactly opposite +kind,--how easily all these proofs might be reversed. I am inclined +to think that if we are to believe that one man was the author both +of the plays and of the philosophy, it is much more probable that +Shakespeare wrote the works of Bacon than that Bacon wrote the works +of Shakespeare. For there is no evidence that Bacon was a poet as well +as a philosopher; but there is ample evidence that Shakespeare was a +philosopher as well as a poet. This, no doubt, assumes that Shakespeare +actually wrote the plays; but this we have a right to assume, in the +outset of the discussion, in order to stand on an equal ground with our +opponents. + +The Bacon vs. Shakespeare argument runs thus: "Assuming that Lord +Bacon wrote the works commonly attributed to him, there is reason to +believe that he also wrote the plays and poems commonly attributed to +Shakespeare." + +The counter argument would then be: "Assuming that Shakespeare wrote +the plays, and poems commonly attributed to him, there is reason to +believe that he also wrote the works commonly attributed to Bacon." + +This is clearly the fair basis of the discussion. What is assumed on +the one side on behalf of Bacon we have a right to assume on the other +on behalf of Shakespeare. But before proceeding on this basis, I must +reply to the only argument of Judge Holmes which has much apparent +weight. He contends that it was impossible for Shakespeare, with the +opportunities he possessed, to acquire the knowledge which we find +in the plays. Genius, however great, cannot give the knowledge of +medical and legal terms, nor of the ancient languages. Now, it has +been shown that the plays afford evidence of a great knowledge of law +and medicine; and of works in Latin and Greek, French and Italian. +How could such information have been obtained by a boy who had no +advantages of study except at a country grammar school, which he +left at the age of fourteen, who went to London at twenty-three and +became an actor, and who spent most of his life as actor, theatrical +proprietor, and man of business? + +This objection presents difficulties to us, and for our time, when +boys sometimes spend years in the study of Latin grammar. We cannot +understand the rapidity with which all sorts of knowledge were imbibed +in the period of the Renaissance. Then every one studied everything. +Then Greek and Latin books were read by prince and peasant, by queens +and generals. Then all sciences and arts were learned by men and women, +by young and old. Thus speaks Robert Burton--who was forty years old +when Shakespeare died: "What a world of books offers itself, in all +subjects, arts and sciences, to the sweet content and capacity of the +reader! In arithmetic, geometry, perspective, opticks, astronomy, +architecture, _sculptura_, _pictura_, of which so many and elaborate +treatises have lately been written; in mechanics and their mysteries, +military matters, navigation, riding of horses, fencing, swimming, +gardening, planting, great tomes of husbandry, cookery, faulconry, +hunting, fishing, fowling; with exquisite pictures of all sports and +games.... What vast tomes are extant in law, physic, and divinity, +for profit, pleasure, practice.... Some take an infinite delight to +study the very languages in which these books were written: Hebrew, +Greek, Syriac, Chaldee, Arabick, and the like." This was the fashion +of that day, to study all languages, all subjects, all authors. A mind +like that of Shakespeare could not have failed to share this universal +desire for knowledge. After leaving the grammar school, he had nine +years for such studies before he went to London. As soon as he began +to write plays, he had new motives for study; for the subjects of the +drama in vogue were often taken from classic story. + +But Shakespeare had access to another source of knowledge besides +the study of books. When he reached London, five or six play-houses +were in full activity, and new plays were produced every year in +vast numbers. New plays were then in constant demand, just as the new +novel and new daily or weekly paper are called for now. The drama was +the periodical literature of the time. Dramatic authors wrote with +wonderful rapidity, borrowing their subjects from plays already on +the stage, and from classic or recent history. Marlowe, Greene, Lyly, +Peele, Kyd, Lodge, Nash, Chettle, Munday, Wilson, were all dramatic +writers before Shakespeare. Philip Henslowe, a manager or proprietor +of the theatres, bought two hundred and seventy plays in about ten +years. Thomas Heywood wrote a part or the whole of two hundred and +twenty plays during his dramatic career. Each acted play furnished +material for some other. They were the property of the play-houses, not +of the writers. One writer after another has accused Shakespeare of +indifference to his reputation, because he did not publish a complete +and revised edition of his works during his life. How could he do +this, since they did not belong to him, but to the theatre? Yet every +writer was at full liberty to make use of all he could remember of +other plays, as he saw them acted; and Shakespeare was not slow to use +this opportunity. No doubt he gained knowledge in this way, which he +afterward employed much better than did the authors from whom he took +it. + +The first plays printed under Shakespeare's name did not appear +till he had been connected with the stage eleven years. This gives +time enough for him to have acquired all the knowledge to be found +in his books. That he had read Latin and Greek books we are told by +Ben Jonson; though that great scholar undervalued, as was natural, +Shakespeare's attainments in those languages. + +But Ben Jonson himself furnishes the best reply to those who think +that Shakespeare could not have gained much knowledge of science +or literature because he did not go to Oxford or Cambridge. What +opportunities had Ben Jonson? A bricklayer by trade, called back +immediately from his studies to use the trowel; then running away and +enlisting as a common soldier; fighting in the Low Countries; coming +home at nineteen, and going on the stage; sent to prison for fighting +a duel--what opportunities for study had he? He was of a strong animal +nature, combative, in perpetual quarrels, fond of drink, in pecuniary +troubles, married at twenty, with a wife and children to support. Yet +Jonson was celebrated for his learning. He was master of Greek and +Latin literature. He took his characters from Athenæus, Libanius, +Philostratus. Somehow he had found time for all this study. "Greek +and Latin thought," says Taine, "were incorporated with his own, and +made a part of it. He knew alchemy, and was as familiar with alembics, +retorts, crucibles, etc., as if he had passed his life in seeking +the philosopher's stone. He seems to have had a specialty in every +branch of knowledge. He had all the methods of Latin art,--possessed +the brilliant conciseness of Seneca and Lucan." If Ben Jonson--a +bricklayer, a soldier, a fighter, a drinker--could yet find time to +acquire this vast knowledge, is there any reason why Shakespeare, with +much more leisure, might not have done the like? He did not possess as +much Greek and Latin lore as Ben Jonson, who, probably, had Shakespeare +in his mind when he wrote the following passage in his "Poetaster:" + + "His learning savors not the school-like gloss + That most consists in echoing words and terms, + And soonest wins a man an empty name; + Nor any long or far-fetched circumstance + Wrapt in the curious generalties of art-- + But a direct and analytic sum + Of all the worth and first effects of art. + And for his poesy, 'tis so rammed with life, + That it shall gather strength of life with being, + And live hereafter more admired than now." + +The only other serious proof offered in support of the proposition +that Bacon wrote the immortal Shakespearean drama is that certain +coincidences of thought and language are found in the works of the two +writers. When we examine them, however, they seem very insignificant. +Take, as an example, two or three, on which Judge Holmes relies, and +which he thinks very striking. + +Holmes says (page 48) that Bacon quotes Aristotle, who said that +"young men were no fit hearers of moral philosophy," and Shakespeare +says ("Troilus and Cressida"):-- + + "Unlike young men whom Aristotle thought + Unfit to hear moral philosophy." + +But since Bacon's remark was published in 1605, and "Troilus and +Cressida" did not appear until 1609, Shakespeare might have seen it +there, and introduced it into his play from his recollection of the +passage in the "Advancement of Learning." + +Another coincidence mentioned by Holmes is that both writers use the +word "thrust:" Bacon saying that a ship "thrust into Weymouth;" and +Shakespeare, that "Milan was thrust from Milan." He also thinks it +cannot be an accident that both frequently use the word "wilderness," +though in very different ways. Both also compare Queen Elizabeth to a +"star." Bacon makes Atlantis an island in mid-ocean; and the island +of Prospero is also in mid-ocean. Both have a good deal to say about +"mirrors," and "props," and like phrases. + +Such reasoning as this has very little weight. You cannot prove two +contemporaneous writings to have proceeded from one author by the same +words and phrases being found in both; for these are in the vocabulary +of the time, and are the common property of all who read and write. + +My position is that if either of these writers wrote the works +attributed to the other, it is much more likely that Shakespeare wrote +the philosophical works of Bacon than that Bacon wrote the poetical +works of Shakespeare. Assuming then, as we have a right to do in this +argument, that Shakespeare wrote the plays, what reasons are there for +believing that he also wrote the philosophy? + +First, this assumption will explain at once that hitherto insoluble +problem of the contradiction between Bacon's character and conduct and +his works. How could he have been, at the same time, what Pope calls +him,-- + + "The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind"? + +He was, in his philosophy, the leader of his age, the reformer of old +abuses, the friend of progress. In his conduct, he was, as Macaulay has +shown, "far behind his age,--far behind Sir Edward Coke; clinging to +exploded abuses, withstanding the progress of improvement, struggling +to push back the human mind." In his writings, he was calm, dignified, +noble. In his life, he was an office-seeker through long years, +seeking place by cringing subservience to men in power, made wretched +to the last degree when office was denied him, addressing servile +supplications to noblemen and to the sovereign. To gain and keep office +he would desert his friends, attack his benefactors, and make abject +apologies for any manly word he might have incautiously uttered. His +philosophy rose far above earth and time, and sailed supreme in the +air of universal reason. But "his desires were set on things below. +Wealth, precedence, titles, patronage, the mace, the seals, the +coronet, large houses, fair gardens, rich manors, massy services of +plate, gay hangings," were "objects for which he stooped to everything +and endured everything." These words of Macaulay have been thought too +severe. But we defy any admirer of Bacon to read his life, by Spedding, +without admitting their essential truth. How was it possible for a man +to spend half of his life in the meanest of pursuits, and the other +half in the noblest? + +This difficulty is removed if we suppose that Bacon, the courtier and +lawyer, with his other ambitions, was desirous of the fame of a great +philosopher; and that he induced Shakespeare, then in the prime of his +powers, to help him write the prose essays and treatises which are his +chief works. He has himself admitted that he did actually ask the aid +of the dramatists of his time in writing his books. This remarkable +fact is stated by Bacon in a letter to Tobie Matthew, written in June, +1623, in which he says that he is devoting himself to making his +writings more perfect--instancing the "Essays" and the "Advancement of +Learning"--"by the help of some good pens, which forsake me not." One +of these pens was that of Ben Jonson, the other might easily have been +that of Shakespeare. Certainly there was no better pen in England at +that time than his. + +When Shakespeare's plays were being produced, Lord Bacon was fully +occupied in his law practice, his parliamentary duties, and his +office-seeking. The largest part of the Shakespeare drama was put on +the stage, as modern research renders probable, in the ten or twelve +years beginning with 1590. In 1597 Shakespeare was rich enough to buy +the new place at Stratford-on-Avon, and was also lending money. In 1604 +he was part owner of the Globe Theatre, so that the majority of the +plays which gained for him this fortune must have been produced before +that time. Now, these were just the busiest years of Bacon's life. In +1584 he was elected to Parliament. About the same time, he wrote his +famous letter to Queen Elizabeth. In 1585 he was already seeking office +from Walsingham and Burleigh. In 1586 he sat in Parliament for Taunton, +and was active in debate and on committees. He became a bencher in the +same year, and began to plead in the courts of Westminster. In 1589 he +became queen's counsel, and member of Parliament for Liverpool. After +this he continued active, both in Parliament and at the bar. He sought, +by the help of Essex, to become Attorney-General. From that period, as +crown lawyer, his whole time and thought were required to trace and +frustrate the conspiracies with which the kingdom was full. It was +evident that during these years he had no time to compose fifteen or +twenty of the greatest works in any literature. + +But how was Shakespeare occupied when Bacon's philosophy appeared? The +"Advancement of Learning" was published in 1605, after most of the +plays had been written, as we learn from the fact of Shakespeare's +purchase of houses and lands. The "Novum Organum" was published in +1620, after Shakespeare's death. But it had been written years before; +revised, altered, and copied again and again--it is said twelve times. +Bacon had been engaged upon it during thirty years, and it was at last +published incomplete and in fragments. If Shakespeare assisted in the +composition of this work, his death in 1616 would account, at once, for +its being left unfinished. And Shakespeare would have had ample time to +furnish the ideas of the "Organum" in the last years of his life, when +he had left the theatre. In 1613 he bought a house in Black Friars, +where Ben Jonson also lived. Might not this have been that they might +more conveniently coöperate in assisting Bacon to write the "Novum +Organum"? + +When we ask whether it would have been easier for the author of the +philosophy to have composed the drama, or the dramatic poet to have +written the philosophy, the answer will depend on which is the greater +work of the two. The greater includes the less, but the less cannot +include the greater. Now, the universal testimony of modern criticism +in England, Germany, and France declares that no larger, deeper, or +ampler intellect has ever appeared than that which produced the +Shakespeare drama. This "myriad-minded" poet was also philosopher, +man of the world, acquainted with practical affairs, one of those who +saw the present and foresaw the future. All the ideas of the Baconian +philosophy might easily have had their home in this vast intelligence. +Great as are the thoughts of the "Novum Organum," they are far inferior +to that world of thought which is in the drama. We can easily conceive +that Shakespeare, having produced in his prime the wonders and glories +of the plays, should in his after leisure have developed the leading +ideas of the Baconian philosophy. But it is difficult to imagine that +Bacon, while devoting his main strength to politics, to law, and to +philosophy, should as a mere pastime for his leisure, have produced in +his idle moments the greatest intellectual work ever done on earth. + +If the greater includes the less, the mind of Shakespeare includes that +of Bacon, and not _vice versa_. This will appear more plainly if we +consider the quality of intellect displayed respectively in the dramas +and the philosophy. The one is synthetic, creative; the other analytic, +critical. The one puts together, the other takes apart and examines. +Now, the genius which can put together can also take apart; but it by +no means follows that the power of taking apart implies that of putting +together. A watch-maker, who can put a watch together, can easily take +it to pieces; but many a child who has taken his watch to pieces has +found it impossible to put it together again. + +When we compare the Shakespeare plays and the Baconian philosophy, it +is curious to see how the one is throughout a display of the synthetic +intellect, and the other of the analytic. The plays are pure creation, +the production of living wholes. They people our thought with a race of +beings who are living persons, and not pale abstractions. These airy +nothings take flesh and form, and have a name and local habitation +forever on the earth. Hamlet, Desdemona, Othello, Miranda, are as +real people as Queen Elizabeth or Mary of Scotland. But when we turn +to the Baconian philosophy, this faculty is absent. We have entered +the laboratory of a great chemist, and are surrounded by retorts and +crucibles, tests and re-agents, where the work done is a careful +analysis of all existing things, to find what are their constituents +and their qualities. Poetry creates, philosophy takes to pieces and +examines. + +It is, I think, a historic fact, that while those authors whose primary +quality is poetic genius have often been also, on a lower plane, +eminent as philosophers, there is, perhaps, not a single instance of +one whose primary distinction was philosophic analysis, who has also +been, on a lower plane, eminent as a poet. Milton, Petrarch, Goethe, +Lucretius, Voltaire, Coleridge, were primarily and eminently poets; +but all excelled, too, in a less degree, as logicians, metaphysicians, +men of science, and philosophers. But what instance have we of any man +like Bacon, chiefly eminent as lawyer, statesman, and philosopher, +who was also distinguished, though in a less degree, as a poet? Among +great lawyers, is there one eminent also as a dramatic or lyric author? +Cicero tried it, but his verses are only doggerel. In Lord Campbell's +list of the lord chancellors and chief justices of England no such +instance appears. If Bacon wrote the Shakespeare drama, he is the one +exception to an otherwise universal rule. But if Shakespeare coöperated +in the production of the Baconian philosophy, he belongs to a class of +poets who have done the same. Coleridge was one of the most imaginative +of poets. His "Christabel" and "Ancient Mariner" are pure creations. +But in later life he originated a new system of philosophy in England, +the influence of which has not ceased to be felt to our day. The +case would be exactly similar if we suppose that Shakespeare, having +ranged the realm of imaginative poetry in his youth, had in his later +days of leisure coöperated with Bacon and Ben Jonson in producing the +"Advancement of Learning" and the "Novum Organum." We can easily think +of them as meeting, sometimes at the house of Ben Jonson, sometimes +at that of Shakespeare in Black Friars, and sometimes guests at that +private house built by Lord Bacon for purposes of study, near his +splendid palace of Gorhambury. "A most ingeniously contrived house," +says Basil Montagu, "where, in the society of his philosophical +friends, he devoted himself to study and meditation." Aubrey tells +us that he had the aid of Hobbes in writing down his thoughts. Lord +Bacon appears to have possessed the happy gift of using other men's +faculties in his service. Ben Jonson, who had been a thorough student +of chemistry, alchemy, and science in all the forms then known, aided +Bacon in his observations of nature. Hobbes aided him in giving +clearness to his thoughts and his language. And from Shakespeare he +may have derived the radical and central ideas of his philosophy. He +used the help of Dr. Playfer to translate his philosophy into Latin. +Tobie Matthew gives him the last argument of Galileo for the Copernican +system. He sends his works to others, begging them to correct the +thoughts and the style. It is evident, then, that he would have been +glad of the concurrence of Shakespeare, and that could easily be had, +through their common friend, Ben Jonson. + +If Bacon wrote the plays of Shakespeare, it is difficult to give any +satisfactory reason for his concealment of that authorship. He had +much pride, not to say vanity, in being known as an author. He had his +name attached to all his other works, and sent them as presents to the +universities, and to individuals, with letters calling their attention +to these books. Would he have been willing permanently to conceal +the fact of his being the author of the best poetry of his time? +The reasons assigned by Judge Holmes for this are not satisfactory. +They are: his desire to rise in the profession of the law, the low +reputation of a play-writer, his wish to write more freely under an +incognito, and his wish to rest his reputation on his philosophical +works. But if he were reluctant to be regarded as the author of "Lear" +and "Hamlet," he was willing to be known as the writer of "Masques," +and a play about "Arthur," exhibited by the students of Gray's Inn. +It is an error to say that the reputation of a play-writer was low. +Judge Holmes, himself, tells us that there was nothing remarkable in a +barrister of the inns of court writing for the stage. Ford and Beaumont +were both lawyers as well as eminent play-writers. Lord Backhurst, +Lord Brooke, Sir Henry Wotton, all wrote plays. And we find nothing in +the Shakespeare dramas which Bacon need have feared to say under his +own name. It would have been ruin to Sir Philip Francis to have avowed +himself the author of "Junius." But the Shakespeare plays satirized no +one, and made no enemies. If there were any reasons for concealment, +they certainly do not apply to the year 1623, when the first folio +appeared, which was after the death of Shakespeare and the fall of +Bacon. The acknowledgment of their authorship at that time could no +longer interfere with Bacon's rise. And it would be very little to the +credit of his intelligence to assume that he was not then aware of the +value of such works, or that he did not desire the reputation of being +their author. It would have been contrary to his very nature not to +have wished for the credit of that authorship. + +On the other hand, there would be nothing surprising in the fact of +Shakespeare's laying no claim to credit for having assisted in the +composition of the "Advancement of Learning." Shakespeare was by nature +as reticent and modest as Bacon was egotistical and ostentatious. What +a veil is drawn over the poet's personality in his sonnets! We read in +them his inmost sentiments, but they tell us absolutely nothing of the +events of his life, or the facts of his position. And if, as we assume, +he was one among several who helped Lord Bacon, though he might have +done the most, there was no special reason why he should proclaim that +fact. + +Gervinus has shown, in three striking pages, the fundamental harmony +between the ideas and mental tendencies of Shakespeare and Bacon. Their +philosophy of man and of life was the same. If, then, Bacon needed to +be helped in thinking out his system, there was no one alive who would +have given him such stimulus and encouragement as Shakespeare. This +also may explain his not mentioning the name of Shakespeare in his +works; for that might have called too much attention to the source from +which he received this important aid. + +Nevertheless, I regard the monistic theory as in the last degree +improbable. We have two great authors, and not one only. But if we +are compelled to accept the view which ascribes a common source to +the Shakespeare drama and the Baconian philosophy, I think there are +good reasons for preferring Shakespeare to Bacon as the author of +both. When the plays appeared, Bacon was absorbed in pursuits and +ambitions foreign to such work; his accepted writings show no sign of +such creative power; he was the last man in the world not to take the +credit of such a success, and had no motive to conceal his authorship. +On the other hand, there was a period in Shakespeare's life when he had +abundant leisure to coöperate in the literary plans of Bacon; his ample +intellect was full of the ideas which took form in those works; and +he was just the person neither to claim nor to desire any credit for +lending such assistance. + +There is, certainly, every reason to believe that, among his other +ambitions, Bacon desired that of striking out a new path of discovery, +and initiating a better method in the study of nature. But we know +that, in doing this, he sought aid in all quarters, and especially +among Shakespeare's friends and companions. It is highly probable, +therefore, that he became acquainted with the great dramatist, and that +Shakespeare knew of Bacon's designs and became interested in them. And +if so, who could offer better suggestions than he; and who would more +willingly accept them than the overworked statesman and lawyer, who +wished to be also a philosopher? + +Finally, we may refer those who believe that the shape of the brow and +head indicates the quality of mental power to the portraits of the two +men. The head of Shakespeare, according to all the busts and pictures +which remain to us, belongs to the type which antiquity has transmitted +to us in the portraits of Homer and Plato. In this vast dome of thought +there was room for everything. The head of Bacon is also a grand one, +but less ample, less complete--less + + "Teres, totus atque rotundus." + +These portraits therefore agree with all we know of the writings, in +showing us which, and which only, of the two minds was capable of +containing the other. + + + + +THE EVOLUTION OF A GREAT POEM[4] + + +There are at least three existing manuscripts of Grays "Elegy," in +the author's autograph. The earliest, containing the largest number +of variations and the most curious, is that now in the possession of +Sir William Fraser in London, and for which he paid the large sum +of £230, in 1875. By the kindness of Sir William Fraser, I examined +this manuscript at his rooms in London, in 1882. A facsimile copy of +this valuable autograph, photographed from the original in 1862, is +now before me. A second copy in the handwriting of Gray, called the +Pembroke manuscript, is in the library of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. A +facsimile of this autograph appears in Matthias's edition of Mason's +"Gray," published in 1814. A third copy, in the poet's handwriting, +copied by him for his friend, Dr. Wharton, is in the British Museum. I +examined this, also, in 1882, and had an accurate copy made for me by +one of the assistants in the museum. This was written after the other +two, as is evident from the fact that it approaches most nearly to the +form which the "Elegy" finally assumed when printed. There are only +nine or ten expressions in this manuscript which differ from the poem +as published by Gray. Most of these are unimportant. "_Or_" he changed, +in three places, into "and." "_And_ in our ashes" he changed into "Even +in our ashes," which was a clear improvement. It was not until after +this third copy was written that the improvement was made which changed + + "Forgive, ye Proud, the involuntary Fault, + If Memory to These no Trophies raise," + +into + + "Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, + If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise." + +Another important alteration of a single word was also made after this +third manuscript was written. This was the change, in the forty-fifth +stanza, of "Reins of Empire" into "Rod of Empire." + +"The Elegy in a Country Churchyard" became at once one of the most +popular poems in the language, and has remained so to this time. It has +been equally a favorite with common readers, with literary men, and +with poets. Its place will always be in the highest rank of English +poetry. The fact, however, is--and it is a very curious fact--that this +first-class poem was the work of a third-class poet. For Thomas Gray +certainly does not stand in the first class with Shakespeare, Spenser, +and Milton. Nor can he fairly be put in the second class with Dryden, +Pope, Burns, Wordsworth, and Byron. He belongs to the third, with +Cowley, Cowper, Shelley, and Keats. There may be a doubt concerning +some of whom I have named, but there can be no doubt that Gray will +never stand higher than those who may be placed by critics in the third +class. Yet it is equally certain that he has produced a first-class +poem. How is this paradox to be explained? + +What is the charm of Gray's "Elegy"? The thoughts are sufficiently +commonplace. That all men must die, that the most humble may have had +in them some power which, under other circumstances, might have made +them famous,--these are somewhat trite statements; but the fascination +of the verses consists in the tone, solemn but serene, which pervades +them; in the pictures of coming night, of breaking day, of cheerful +rural life, of happy homes; and lastly, in the perfect finish of the +verse and the curious felicity of the diction. In short, the poem is a +work of high art. It was not inspired, but it was carefully elaborated. +And this appears plainly when we compare it, as it stands in the Fraser +manuscript, with its final form. + +This poem was a work of eight years. Its heading in the Fraser +manuscript is "Stanzas Wrote in a Country Churchyard." It was, however, +begun at Stoke in 1742, continued at Cambridge, and had its last +touches added at Stoke-Pogis, June 12, 1750. In a letter to Horace +Walpole of that date, Gray says, "Having put an end to a thing whose +beginning you saw long ago, I immediately send it to you." + +The corrections made by Gray during this period were many, and were +probably all improvements. Many poets when they try to improve their +verses only injure them. But Gray's corrections were invariably for +the better. We may even say that, if it had been published as it was +first written, and as it now stands in the Fraser manuscript, it would +have ranked only with the best poetry of Shenstone or Cowper. Let me +indicate some of the most important changes. + +In line seventeen, the fine epithet of "incense-breathing" was an +addition. + + "The breezy call of incense-breathing morn," + +for the Fraser manuscript reads-- + + "Forever sleep. The breezy call of morn." + +Nineteenth line, Fraser manuscript has-- + + "Or chanticleer so shrill, or echoing horn," + +corrected to + + "The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn." + +Twenty-fourth--"Coming kiss" was corrected to "envied kiss." + +Forty-third--"Awake the silent dust" was corrected to "provoke the +silent dust." + +Forty-seventh--The correction of "Reins of Empire" to "Rod of Empire" +first appears in the margin of the Pembroke manuscript. + +Fifty-seventh--In the Fraser manuscript it reads-- + + "Some village Cato, who with dauntless breast, + Some mute, inglorious Tully here may rest; + Some Cæsar," etc. + +In the Pembroke manuscript, these classical personages have +disappeared, and the great improvement was made of substituting +Hampden, Milton, and Cromwell, and thus maintaining the English +coloring of the poem. + +Fifty-first--This verse, beginning, "But Knowledge," etc., was placed, +in the Fraser manuscript, after the one beginning, "Some village Cato," +but with a note in the margin to transfer it to where it now stands. +The third line of the stanza was first written, "Chill Penury had +damped." This was first corrected to "depressed," and afterward to +"repressed." + +Fifty-fifth--"Their fate forbade," changed to "Their lot forbade." + +Sixty-sixth--"Their struggling virtues" was improved to "Their growing +virtues." + +Seventy-first--"Crown the shrine" was altered to "heap the shrine," +and in the next line "Incense hallowed by the muse's flame" was wisely +changed to "Incense kindled by the muse's flame." + +After the seventy-second line stand, in the Fraser manuscript, the +following stanzas, which Gray, with admirable taste, afterward omitted. +But, before he decided to leave them out altogether, he drew a black +line down the margin, indicating that he would transfer them to another +place. These stanzas were originally intended to close the poem. +Afterward the thought occurred to him of "the hoary-headed swain" and +the "Epitaph." + + "The thoughtless World to Majesty may bow, + Exalt the Brave and idolize Success, + But more to Innocence their safety owe + Than Power and Genius e'er conspire to bless. + + "And thou, who, mindful of the unhonored Dead, + Dost, in these Notes, their artless Tale relate, + By Night and lonely Contemplation led + To linger in the gloomy Walks of Fate; + + "Hark, how the sacred Calm that broods around + Bids every fierce, tumultuous Passion cease, + In still, small Accents whispering from the Ground + A grateful Earnest of eternal Peace. + + "No more with Reason and thyself at Strife, + Give anxious Cares and useless Wishes room; + But through the cool, sequestered Vale of Life + Pursue the silent Tenor of thy Doom." + +After these stanzas, according to the Fraser manuscript, were to follow +these lines, which I do not remember to have seen elsewhere:-- + + "If chance that e'er some pensive Spirit more, + By sympathetic Musings here delayed, + With vain though kind Enquiry shall explore + Thy once-loved Haunt, thy long-neglected Shade, + + "Haply," etc. + +But Gray soon dispensed with this feeble stanza, and made a new one by +changing it into the one beginning:-- + + "For thee, who mindful." + +The ninety-ninth and one hundredth lines stand in the Fraser +manuscript-- + + "With hasty footsteps brush the dews away + On the high brow of yonder hanging lawn." + +The following stanza is noticeable for the inversions so frequent +in Gray, and which he had, perhaps, unconsciously adopted from his +familiarity with the classics. He afterward omitted it:-- + + "Him have we seen the greenwood side along, + While o'er the heath we hied, our labors done. + Oft as the wood-lark piped her farewell song, + With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun." + +In the manuscript the word is spelled "whistful." In line 101, "hoary +beech" is corrected to "spreading beech," and afterward to "nodding +beech." + +Line 113--"Dirges meet" was changed to "dirges dire;" and after 116 +came the beautiful stanza, afterward omitted by Gray as being _de trop_ +in this place:-- + + "There, scattered oft, the earliest of the year, + By hands unseen, are showers of violets found; + The redbreast loves to build and warble there, + And little footsteps lightly print the ground." + +Even in this verse there were two corrections. "Robin" was altered in +the Fraser manuscript into "redbreast," and "frequent violets" into +"showers of violets." + +One of the most curious accidents to which this famous poem has been +subjected was an erroneous change made in the early editions, which has +been propagated almost to our time. In the stanza beginning-- + + "The boast of Heraldry, the pomp of Power," + +Gray wrote + + "Awaits alike the inevitable Hour." + +And so it stands in all three manuscripts, and in the printed edition +which he himself superintended. His meaning was, "The inevitable Hour +awaits everything. It stands there, waiting the boast of Heraldry," +etc. But his editors, misled by his inverted style, supposed that it +was the gifts of Heraldry, Power, Beauty, etc., that were waiting, and +therefore corrected what they thought Gray's bad grammar, and printed +the word "await." But so they destroyed the meaning. These things were +not waiting at all for the dread hour; they were enjoying themselves, +careless of its approach. But "the hour" was waiting for them. Gray's +original reading has been restored in the last editions. + +In tracing the development of this fine poem, we see it gradually +improving under his careful touch, till it becomes a work of high art. +In some poets--Wordsworth, for example--inspiration is at its maximum, +and art at its minimum. In Gray, I think, inspiration was at its +minimum, and art at its maximum. + + + + +RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL + + + + +AFFINITIES OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY[5] + + +It has long been known that many analogies exist between Buddhism +and Christianity. The ceremonies, ritual, and rites of the Buddhists +strikingly resemble those of the Roman Catholic Church. The Buddhist +priests are monks. They take the same three vows of poverty, chastity, +and obedience which are binding on those of the Roman Church. They are +mendicants, like the mendicant orders of St. Francis and St. Dominic. +They are tonsured; use strings of beads, like the rosary, with which +to count their prayers; have incense and candles in their worship; use +fasts, processions, litanies, and holy water. They have something akin +to the adoration of saints; repeat prayers in an unknown tongue; have +a chanted psalmody with a double choir; and suspend the censer from +five chains. In China, some Buddhists worship the image of a virgin, +called the Queen of Heaven, having an infant in her arms, and holding a +cross. In Thibet the Grand Lamas wear a mitre, dalmatica, and cope, and +pronounce a benediction on the laity by extending the right hand over +their heads. The Dalai-Lama resembles the Pope, and is regarded as the +head of the Church. The worship of relics is very ancient among the +Buddhists, and so are pilgrimages to sacred places. + +Besides these resemblances in outward ceremonies, more important ones +appear in the inner life and history of the two religions. Both belong +to those systems which derive their character from a human founder, and +not from a national tendency; to the class which contains the religions +of Moses, Zoroaster, Confucius, and Mohammed, and not to that in which +the Brahmanical, Egyptian, Scandinavian, Greek, and Roman religions +are found. Both Buddhism and Christianity are catholic, and not +ethnic; that is, not confined to a single race or nation, but by their +missionary spirit passing beyond these boundaries, and making converts +among many races. Christianity began among the Jews as a Semitic +religion, but, being rejected by the Jewish nation, established itself +among the Aryan races of Europe. In the same way Buddhism, beginning +among an Aryan people--the Hindoos--was expelled from Hindostan, and +established itself among the Mongol races of Eastern Asia. Besides its +resemblances to the Roman Catholic side of Christendom, Buddhism has +still closer analogies with the Protestant Church. Like Protestantism, +it is a reform, which rejects a hierarchal system and does away with +a priestly caste. Like Protestantism, it has emphasized the purely +humane side of life, and is a religion of humanity rather than of +piety. Both the Christian and Buddhist churches teach a divine +incarnation, and both worship a God-man. + +Are these remarkable analogies only casual resemblances, or are they +real affinities? By affinity we here mean genetic relationship. Are +Buddhism and Christianity related as mother and child, one being +derived from the other; or are they related by both being derived from +some common ancestor? Is either derived from the other, as Christianity +from Judaism, or Protestantism from the Papal Church? That there can +be no such affinity as this seems evident from history. History shows +no trace of the contact which would be required for such influence. +If Christianity had taken its customs from Buddhism, or Buddhism from +Christianity, there must have been ample historic evidence of the fact. +But, instead of this, history shows that each has grown up by its own +natural development, and has unfolded its qualities separately and +alone. The law of evolution also teaches that such great systems do not +come from imitation, but as growths from a primal germ. + +Nor does history give the least evidence of a common ancestry from +which both took their common traits. We know that Buddhism was derived +from Brahmanism, and that Christianity was derived from Judaism. Now, +Judaism and Brahmanism have few analogies; they could not, therefore, +have transmitted to their offspring what they did not themselves +possess. Brahmanism came from an Aryan stock, in Central Asia; Judaism +from a Semitic stem, thousands of miles to the west. If Buddhism and +Christianity came from a common source, that source must have antedated +both the Mosaic and Brahmanical systems. Even then it would be a case +of atavism in which the original type disappeared in the children, to +reappear in the later descendants. + +Are, then, these striking resemblances, and others which are still to +be mentioned, only accidental analogies? This does not necessarily +follow; for there is a third alternative. They may be what are +called in science homologies; that is, the same law working out +similar results under the same conditions, though under different +circumstances. The whale lives under different circumstances from other +mammalia; but being a mammal, he has a like osseous structure. What +seems to be a fin, being dissected, turns out to be an arm, with hand +and fingers. There are like homologies in history. Take the instance of +the English and French revolutions. In each case the legitimate king +was tried, condemned, and executed. A republic followed. The republic +gave way before a strong-handed usurper. Then the original race of +kings was restored; but, having learned nothing and forgotten nothing, +they were displaced a second time, and a constitutional monarch placed +on the throne, who, though not the legitimate king, still belonged +to the same race. Here the same laws of human nature have worked out +similar results; for no one would suggest that France had copied its +revolutions from England. And, in religion, human nature reproduces +similar customs and ceremonies under like conditions. When, for +instance, you have a mechanical system of prayer, in which the number +of prayers is of chief importance, there must be some way of counting +them, and so the rosary has been invented independently in different +religions. We have no room to point out how this law has worked in +other instances; but it is enough to refer to the principle. + +Besides these resemblances between Buddhism and Christianity, there are +also some equally remarkable differences, which should be noticed. + +The first of these is the striking fact that Buddhism has been unable +to recognize the existence of the Infinite Being. It has been called +atheism by the majority of the best authorities. Even Arthur Lillie, +who defends this system from the charge of agnosticism, says:[6] "An +agnostic school of Buddhism without doubt exists. It professes plain +atheism, and holds that every mortal, when he escapes from re-births, +and the causation of Karma by the awakenment of the Bodhi or gnosis, +will be annihilated. This Buddhism, by Eugène Burnouf, Saint-Hilaire, +Max Müller, Csoma de Körös, and, I believe, almost every writer of +note, is pronounced the original Buddhism,--the Buddhism of the South." +Almost every writer of note, therefore, who has studied Buddhism in +the Pâli, Singhalese, Chinese, and other languages, and has had direct +access to its original sources, has pronounced it a system of atheism. +But this opinion is opposed to the fact that Buddhists have everywhere +worshiped unseen and superhuman powers, erected magnificent temples, +maintained an elaborate ritual, and adored Buddha as the supreme ruler +of the worlds. How shall we explain this paradox? All depends on the +definition we give to the word "atheism." If a system is atheistic +which sees only the temporal, and not the eternal; which knows no +God as the author, creator, and ruler of Nature; which ascribes the +origin of the universe to natural causes, to which only the finite is +knowable, and the infinite unknowable--then Buddhism is atheism. But, +in that case, much of the polytheism of the world must be regarded as +atheism; for polytheism has largely worshiped finite gods. The whole +race of Olympian deities were finite beings. Above them ruled the +everlasting necessity of things. But who calls the Greek worshipers +atheists? The Buddha, to most Buddhists, is a finite being, one who has +passed through numerous births, has reached Nirvana, and will one day +be superseded by another Buddha. Yet, for the time, he is the Supreme +Being, Ruler of all the Worlds. He is the object of worship, and +really divine, if in a subordinate sense. + +I would not, therefore, call this religion atheism. No religion which +worships superhuman powers can justly be called atheistic on account of +its meagre metaphysics. How many Christians there are who do not fully +realize the infinite and eternal nature of the Deity! To many He is no +more than the Buddha is to his worshipers,--a supreme being, a mighty +ruler, governing all things by his will. How few see God everywhere +in nature, as Jesus saw Him, letting his sun shine on the evil and +good, and sending his rain on the just and unjust. How few see Him in +all of life, so that not a sparrow dies, or a single hair of the head +falls, without the Father. Most Christians recognize the Deity only as +occasionally interfering by special providences, particular judgments, +and the like. + +But in Christianity this ignorance of the eternal nature of God is the +exception, while in Buddhism it is the rule. In the reaction against +Brahmanism, the Brahmanic faith in the infinite was lost. In the +fully developed system of the ancient Hindoo religion the infinite +overpowered the finite, the temporal world was regarded as an illusion, +and only the eternal was real. The reaction from this extreme was so +complete as to carry the Buddhists to the exact opposite. If to the +Brahman all the finite visible world was only _maya_--illusion, to the +Buddhists all the infinite unseen world was unknowable, and practically +nothing. + +Perhaps the most original feature of Christianity is the fact +that it has combined in a living synthesis that which in other +systems was divided. Jesus regarded love to God and love to man as +identical,--positing a harmonious whole of time and eternity, piety +and humanity, faith and works,--and thus laid the foundation of a +larger system than either Brahmanism or Buddhism. He did not invent +piety, nor discover humanity. Long before he came the Brahmanic +literature had sounded the deepest depths of spiritual life, and the +Buddhist missionaries had preached universal benevolence to mankind. +But the angelic hymn which foretold the new religion as bringing at +once "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will to +men" indicated the essence of the faith which was at the same time a +heavenly love and an earthly blessing. This difference of result in the +two systems came probably from the different methods of their authors. +With Jesus life was the source of knowledge; the life was the light of +men. With the Buddha, reflection, meditation, thought was the source +of knowledge. In this, however, he included intuition no less than +reflection. Sakya-muni understood perfectly that a mere intellectual +judgment possessed little motive power; therefore he was not satisfied +till he had obtained an intuitive perception of truth. That alone gave +at once rest and power. But as the pure intellect, even in its highest +act, is unable to grasp the infinite, the Buddha was an agnostic on +this side of his creed by the very success of his method. Who, by +searching, can find out God? The infinite can only be known by the +process of living experience. This was the method of Jesus, and has +been that of his religion. For what is faith but that receptive state +of mind which waits on the Lord to receive the illumination which it +cannot create by its own processes? However this may be, it is probable +that the fatal defect in Buddhism which has neutralized its generous +philanthropy and its noble humanities has been the absence of the +inspiration which comes from the belief in an eternal world. Man is +too great to be satisfied with time alone, or eternity alone; he needs +to live from and for both. Hence, Buddhism is an arrested religion, +while Christianity is progressive. Christianity has shown the capacity +of outgrowing its own defects and correcting its own mistakes. For +example, it has largely outgrown its habit of persecuting infidels and +heretics. No one is now put to death for heresy. It has also passed out +of the stage in which religion is considered to consist in leaving the +world and entering a monastery. The anchorites of the early centuries +are no longer to be found in Christendom. Even in Catholic countries +the purpose of monastic life is no longer to save the soul by ascetic +tortures, but to attain some practical end. The Protestant Reformation, +which broke the yoke of priestly power and set free the mind of +Europe, was a movement originating in Christianity itself, like other +developments of a similar kind. No such signs of progress exist in +the system of Buddhism. It has lost the missionary ardor of its early +years; it has ceased from creating a vast literature such as grew up in +its younger days; it no longer produces any wonders of architecture. +It even lags behind the active life of the countries where it has its +greatest power. + +It is a curious analogy between the two systems that, while neither +the Christ nor the Buddha practiced or taught asceticism, their +followers soon made the essence of religion to consist in some form +of monastic life. Both Jesus and Sakya-muni went about doing good. +Both sent their followers into the world to preach a gospel. Jesus, +after thirty years of a retired life, came among men "eating and +drinking," and associating with "publicans and sinners." Sakya-muni, +after spending some years as an anchorite, deliberately renounced that +mode of religion as unsatisfactory, and associated with all men, as +Jesus afterward did. Within a few centuries after their death, their +followers relapsed into ascetic and monastic practices; but with this +difference, that while in Christendom there has always been both a +regular and a secular clergy, in the Buddhist countries the whole +priesthood live in monasteries. They have no parish priests, unless +as an exception. While in Christian countries the clergy has become +more and more a practical body, in sympathy with the common life, in +Buddhist lands they live apart and exercise little influence on the +civil condition of the people. + +Nor must we pass by the important fact that the word Christendom +is synonymous with a progressive civilization, while Buddhism is +everywhere connected with one which is arrested and stationary. The +boundaries of the Christian religion are exactly coextensive with +the advance of science, art, literature; and with the continued +accumulation of knowledge, power, wealth, and the comforts of human +life. According to Kuenen,[7] one of the most recent students of these +questions, this difference is due to the principle of hope which exists +in Christianity, but is absent in Buddhism. The one has always believed +in a kingdom of God here and a blessed immortality hereafter. Buddhism +has not this hope; and this, says Kuenen, "is a blank which nothing can +fill." So large a thinker as Albert Réville has expressed his belief +that even the intolerance of Christianity indicated a passionate love +of truth which has created modern science. He says that "if Europe had +not passed through those ages of intolerance, it is doubtful whether +the science of our day would ever have arrived."[8] It is only within +the boundaries of nations professing the Christian faith that we must +go to-day to learn the latest discoveries in science, the best works +of art, the most flourishing literature. Only within the same circle +of Christian states is there a government by law, and not by will. +Only within these boundaries have the rights of the individual been +secured, while the power of the state has been increased. Government +by law, joined with personal freedom, is only to be found where the +faith exists which teaches that God not only supports the universal +order of natural things, but is also the friend of the individual soul; +and in just that circle of states in which the doctrine is taught that +there is no individual soul for God to love and no Divine presence in +the order of nature, human life has subsided into apathy, progress has +ceased, and it has been found impossible to construct national unity. +Saint-Hilaire affirms[9] that "in politics and legislation the dogma +of Buddhism has remained inferior even to that of Brahmanism," and +"has been able to do nothing to constitute states or to govern them by +equitable rules." These Buddhist nations are really six: Siam, Burma, +Nepaul, Thibet, Tartary, and Ceylon. The activity and social progress +in China and Japan are no exceptions to this rule; for in neither +country has Buddhism any appreciable influence on the character of the +people. + +To those who deny that the theology of a people influences its +character, it may be instructive to see how exactly the good and evil +influences of Buddhism correspond to the positive and negative traits +of its doctrine. Its merits, says Saint-Hilaire, are its practical +character, its abnegation of vulgar gratifications, its benevolence, +mildness, sentiment of human equality, austerity of manners, dislike of +falsehood, and respect for the family. Its defects are want of social +power, egotistical aims, ignorance of the ideal good, of the sense of +human right and human freedom, skepticism, incurable despair, contempt +of life. All its human qualities correspond to its doctrinal teaching +from the beginning. It has always taught benevolence, patience, +self-denial, charity, and toleration. Its defects arise inevitably +from its negative aim,--to get rid of sorrow and evil by sinking into +apathy, instead of seeking for the triumph of good and the coming of a +reign of God here on the earth. + +As regards the Buddha himself, modern students differ widely. Some, of +course, deny his very existence, and reduce him to a solar myth. M. +Emile Senart, as quoted by Oldenberg,[10] following the Lalita Vistara +as his authority, makes of him a solar hero, born of the morning cloud, +contending by the power of light with the demons of darkness, rising in +triumph to the zenith of heavenly glory, then passing into the night of +Nirvana and disappearing from the scene. + +The difficulty about this solar myth theory is that it proves too +much; it is too powerful a solvent; it would dissolve all history. How +easy it would be, in a few centuries, to turn General Washington and +the American Revolution into a solar myth! Great Britain, a region of +clouds and rain, represents the Kingdom of Darkness; America, with more +sunshine, is the Day. Great Britain, as Darkness, wishes to devour the +Young Day, or dawn of light, which America is about to diffuse over the +earth. But Washington, the solar hero, arrives. He is from Virginia, +that is, born of a virgin. He was born in February, in the sign of +Aquarius and the Fishes,--plainly referring to the birth of the sun +from the ocean. As the sun surveys the earth, so Washington was said to +be a surveyor of many regions. The story of the fruitless attempts of +the Indians to shoot him at Braddock's defeat is evidently legendary; +and, in fact, this battle itself must be a myth, for how can we suppose +two English and French armies to have crossed the Atlantic, and then +gone into a wilderness west of the mountains, to fight a battle? So +easy is it to turn history into a solar myth. + +The character of Sakya-muni must be learned from his religion and from +authentic tradition. In many respects his character and influence +resembled that of Jesus. He opposed priestly assumptions, taught the +equality and brotherhood of man, sent out disciples to teach his +doctrine, was a reformer who relied on the power of truth and love. +Many of his reported sayings resemble those of Jesus. He was opposed +by the Brahmans as Jesus by the Pharisees. He compared the Brahmans +who followed their traditions to a chain of blind men, who move on, +not seeing where they go.[11] Like Jesus, he taught that mercy was +better than sacrifices. Like Jesus, he taught orally, and left no +writing. Jesus did not teach in Hebrew, but in the Aramaic, which was +the popular dialect, and so the Buddha did not speak to the people in +Sanskrit, but in their own tongue, which was Pâli. Like Jesus, he seems +to have instructed his hearers by parables or stories. He was one of +the greatest reformers the world has ever seen; and his influence, +after that of the Christ, has probably exceeded that of any one who +ever lived. + +But, beside such real resemblances between these two masters, we are +told of others still more striking, which would certainly be hard to +explain unless one of the systems had borrowed from the other. These +are said to be the preëxistence of Buddha in heaven; his birth of a +virgin; salutation by angels; presentation in the temple; baptism by +fire and water; dispute with the doctors; temptation in the wilderness; +transfiguration; descent into hell; ascension into heaven.[12] If +these legends could be traced back to the time before Christ, then it +might be argued that the Gospels have borrowed from Buddhism. Such, +however, is not the fact. These stories are taken from the Lalita +Vistara, which, according to Rhys Davids,[13] was probably composed +between six hundred and a thousand years after the time of Buddha, by +some Buddhist poet in Nepaul. Rhys Davids, one of our best authorities, +says of this poem: "As evidence of what early Buddhism actually was, +it is of about the same value as some mediæval poem would be of the +real facts of the gospel history."[13] M. Ernest de Bunsen, in his work +on the "Angel Messiah," has given a very exhaustive statement, says +Mr. Davids, of all the possible channels through which Christians can +be supposed to have borrowed from the Buddhists. But Mr. Davids's +conclusion is that he finds no evidence of any such communications of +ideas from the East to the West.[14] The difference between the wild +stories of the Lalita Vistara and the sober narratives of the Gospels +is quite apparent. Another writer, Professor Seydel,[15] thinks, after +a full and careful examination, that only five facts in the Gospels +may have been borrowed from Buddhism. These are: (1) The fast of Jesus +before his work; (2) The question in regard to the blind man--"Who did +sin, this man, or his parents"? (3) The preëxistence of Christ; (4) The +presentation in the Temple; (5) Nathanael sitting under a fig-tree, +compared with Buddha under a Bo-tree. But Kuenen has examined these +parallels, and considers them merely accidental coincidences. And, in +truth, it is very hard to conceive of one religion borrowing its facts +or legends from another, if that other stands in no historic relation +to it. That Buddhism should have taken much from Brahmanism is natural; +for Brahmanism was its mother. That Christianity should have borrowed +many of its methods from Judaism is equally natural; for Judaism was +its cradle. Modern travelers in Burma and Tartary have found that the +Buddhists hold a kind of camp-meeting in the open air, where they pray +and sing. Suppose that some critic, noticing this, should assert that, +when Wesley and his followers established similar customs, they must +have borrowed them from the Buddhists. The absurdity would be evident. +New religions grow, they are not imitations. + +It has been thought, however, that Christianity was derived from the +Essenes, because of certain resemblances, and it is argued that the +Essenes must have obtained their monastic habits from the Therapeutæ +in Egypt, and that the Therapeutæ received them from the Buddhists, +because they could not have found them elsewhere. This theory, however, +has been dismissed from the scene by the young German scholar,[16] +who has proved that the essay on the Therapeutæ ascribed to Philo was +really written by a Christian anchorite in the third or fourth century. + +The result, then, of our investigation, is this: There is no +probability that the analogies between Christianity and Buddhism have +been derived the one from the other. They have come from the common and +universal needs and nature of man, which repeat themselves again and +again in like positions and like circumstances. That Jesus and Buddha +should both have retired into the wilderness before undertaking their +great work is probable, for it has been the habit of other reformers +to let a period of meditation precede their coming before the world. +That both should have been tempted to renounce their enterprise is +also in accordance with human nature. That, in after times, the simple +narratives should be overlaid with additions, and a whole mass of +supernatural wonders added,--as we find in the Apocryphal Gospels and +the Lalita Vistara,--is also in accordance with the working of the +human mind. + +Laying aside all such unsatisfactory resemblances, we must regard the +Buddha as having been one of the noblest of men, and one whom Jesus +would have readily welcomed as a fellow worker and a friend. He opposed +a dominant priesthood, maintained the equal religious rights of all +mankind, overthrew caste, encouraged woman to take her place as man's +equal, forbade all bloody sacrifices, and preached a religion of peace +and good will, seeking to triumph only in the fair conflict of reason +with reason. If he was defective in the loftiest instincts of the soul; +if he knew nothing of the infinite and eternal; if he saw nothing +permanent in the soul of man; if his highest purpose was negative,--to +escape from pain, sorrow, anxiety, toil,--let us still be grateful for +the influence which has done so much to tame the savage Mongols, and to +introduce hospitality and humanity into the homes of Lassa and Siam. If +Edwin Arnold, a poet, idealizes him too highly, it is the better fault, +and should be easily forgiven. Hero-worshipers are becoming scarce in +our time; let us make the most of those we have. + + + + +WHY I AM NOT A FREE-RELIGIONIST[17] + + +What is meant by "Free Religion"? I understand by it, individualism in +religion. It is the religious belief which has made itself independent +of historic and traditional influences, so far as it is in the power +of any one to attain such independence. In Christian lands it means a +religion which has cut loose from the Bible and the Christian Church, +and which is as ready to question the teaching of Jesus as that of +Socrates or Buddha. It is, what Emerson called himself, an endless +seeker, with no past behind it. It is entire trust in the private +reason as the sole authority in matters of religion. + +Free Religion may be regarded as Protestantism carried to its ultimate +results. A Protestant _Christian_ accepts the leadership of Jesus, and +keeps himself in the Christian communion; but he uses his own private +judgment to discover what Jesus taught, and what Christianity really +is. The Free Religionist goes a step farther, and decides by his own +private judgment what is true and what false, no matter whether taught +by Jesus or not. + +Free Religion, as thus understood, seems to me opposed to the law of +evolution, and incompatible with it. Evolution educes the present from +the past by a continuous process. Free Religion cuts itself loose +from the past, and makes every man the founder of his own religion. +According to the law of evolution, confirmed by history, every advance +in religion is the development from something going before. Jewish +monotheism grew out of polytheism; Christianity and Mohammedanism out +of Judaism; Buddhism out of Brahmanism; Protestant Christianity out of +the Roman Catholic Church. Jesus himself said, "Think not that I am +come to destroy the Law or the Prophets: I am not come to destroy, but +to fulfil." The higher religions are not made; they grow. Of each it +may be said, as of the poet: "Nascitur, non fit." Therefore, if there +is to arrive something higher than our existing Christianity, it must +not be a system which forsakes the Christian belief, but something +developed from it. + +According to the principle of evolution, every growing and productive +religion obeys the laws of heredity and of variation. It has an +inherited common life, and a tendency to modification by individual +activity. Omit or depress either factor, and the religion loses its +power of growth. Without a common life, the principle of development +is arrested. He who leaves the great current which comes from the +past loses headway. This current, in the Christian communion, is the +inherited spirit of Jesus. It is his life, continued in his Church; +his central convictions of love to God and to man; of fatherhood +and brotherhood; of the power of truth to conquer error, of good to +overcome evil; of a Kingdom of Heaven to come to us here. It is the +faith of Jesus in things unseen; his hope of the triumph of right +over wrong; his love going down to the lowliest child of God. These +vital convictions in the soul of Jesus are communicated by contact +from generation to generation. They are propagated, as he suggested, +like leaven hidden in the dough. By a different figure, Plato, in +his dialogue of Ion, shows that inspiration is transmitted like the +magnetic influence, which causes iron rings to adhere and hang together +in a chain. Thoughts and opinions are communicated by argument, +reasoning, speech, and writing; but faith and inspiration by the +influence of life on life. The life of Jesus is thus continued in his +Church, and those who stand outside of it lose much of this transmitted +and sympathetic influence. Common life in a religious body furnishes +the motive force which carries it forward, while individual freedom +gives the power of improvement. The two principles of heredity and +variation must be united in order to combine union and freedom, and +to secure progress. Where freedom of thought ceases, religion becomes +rigid. It is incapable of development. Such, for instance, is the +condition of Buddhism, which, at first full of intellectual activity, +has now hardened into a monkish ritual. + +Free Religion sacrifices the motive power derived from association +and religious sympathy for the sake of a larger intellectual freedom. +The result is individualism. It founds no churches, but spends much +force in criticising the Christian community, its belief, and its +methods. These are, no doubt, open to criticism, which would do good +if administered sympathetically and from within, but produce little +result when delivered in the spirit of antagonism. Imperfect as the +Christian Church is, it ought to be remembered that in it are to be +found the chief strength and help of the charities, philanthropies, and +moral reforms of our time. Every one who has at heart a movement for +the benefit of humanity appeals instinctively for aid to the Christian +churches. It is in these that such movements usually originate, and are +carried on. Even when, as in the antislavery movement, a part of the +churches refuse to sympathize with a new moral or social movement, the +reproaches made against them show that in the mind of the community +an interest in all humane endeavor is considered to be a part of +their work. The common life and convictions of these bodies enable +them to accomplish what individualism does not venture to undertake. +Individualism is incapable of organized and sustained work of this +sort, though it can, and often does, coöperate earnestly with it. + +The teaching of Jesus is founded on the synthesis of Truth and Love. +Jesus declares himself to have been born "to bear witness to the +truth," and he also makes love, divine and human, the substance of his +gospel. The love element produces union, the truth element, freedom. +Union without freedom stiffens into a rigid conservatism. Freedom +without union breaks up into an intellectual atomism. The Christian +churches have gone into both extremes, but never permanently; for +Christianity, as long as it adheres to its founder and his ideas, has +the power of self-recovery. Its diseases are self-limited. + +It has had many such periods, but has recovered from them. It passed +through an age in which it ran to ascetic self-denial, and made saints +of self-torturing anchorites. It afterward became a speculative system, +and tended to metaphysical creeds and doctrinal distinctions. It became +a persecuting church, burning heretics and Jews, and torturing infidels +as an act of faith. It was tormented by dark superstitions, believing +in witchcraft and magic. But it has left all these evils behind. No +one is now put to death for heresy or witchcraft. The monastic orders +in the Church are preachers and teachers, or given to charity. No +one could be burned to-day as a heretic. No one to-day believes in +witchcraft. The old creeds which once held the Church in irons are +now slowly disintegrating. But reform, as I have said, must come from +within, by the gradual elimination of those inherited beliefs which +interfere with the unity of the Church and the leadership of Christ +himself. The Platonic and Egyptian Trinity remaining as dogma, repeated +but not understood,--the Manichæan division of the human race into +children of God and children of the Devil,--the scholastic doctrine of +the Atonement, by which the blood of Jesus expiates human guilt,--are +being gradually explained in accordance with reason and the teaching of +Jesus. + +Some beliefs, once thought to be of vital importance, are now seen by +many to be unessential, or are looked at in a different light. Instead +of making Jesus an exceptional person, we are coming to regard him as +a representative man, the realized ideal of what man was meant to be, +and will one day become. Instead of considering his sinlessness as +setting him apart from his race, we look on it as showing that sin is +not the natural, but unnatural, condition of mankind. His miracles are +regarded not as violations of the laws of nature, but anticipations of +laws which one day will be universally known, and which are boundless +as the universe. Nor will they in future be regarded as evidence of +the mission of Jesus, since he himself was grieved when they were +so looked upon, and he made his truth and his character the true +evidence that he came from God. The old distinction between "natural" +and "supernatural" will disappear when it is seen that Jesus had a +supernatural work and character, the same in kind as ours, though +higher in degree. The supreme gifts which make him the providential +leader of the race do not set him apart from his brethren if we see +that it is a law of humanity that gifts differ, and that men endowed +with superior powers become leaders in science, art, literature, +politics; as Jesus has become the chief great spiritual leader of +mankind. + +Men are now searching the Scriptures, not under the bondage of an +infallible letter, but seeking for the central ideas of Jesus and +the spirit of his gospel. They begin to accept the maxim of Goethe: +"No matter how much the gospels contradict each other, provided the +Gospel does not contradict itself." The profound convictions of +Christ, which pervade all his teaching, give the clue by which to +explain the divergences in the narrative. We interpret the letter by +the light of the spirit. We see how Jesus emphasized the law of human +happiness,--that it comes from within, not from without; that the pure +in heart see God, and that it is more blessed to give than to receive. +We comprehend the stress he lays on the laws of progress,--that he who +humbleth himself shall be exalted. We recognize his profound conviction +that all God's children are dear to him, that his sun shines on the +evil and the good, and that he will seek the one lost sheep till he +find it. We see his trust in the coming of the Kingdom of God in this +world, the triumph of good over evil, and the approaching time when the +knowledge of God shall fill the earth as the waters cover the sea. And +we find his profound faith in the immortal life which abides in us, so +that whoever shares that faith with him can never die. + +The more firmly these central ideas of Jesus are understood and held, +the less importance belongs to any criticism of the letter. This or +that saying, attributed to Jesus in the record, maybe subjected to +attack; but it is the main current of his teaching which has made him +the leader of civilized man for eighteen centuries. That majestic +stream will sweep on undisturbed, though there may be eddies here or +stagnant pools there, which induce hasty observers to suppose that it +has ceased to flow. + + "Rusticus expectat dum defluit amnis, at ille + Volvitur et volvetur, in omne volubilis ævium." + +I sometimes read attacks on special sayings of the record, which +argue, to the critic's mind, that Jesus was in error here, or mistaken +there. But I would recommend to such writers to ponder the suggestive +rule of Coleridge: "Until I can understand the ignorance of Plato, I +shall consider myself ignorant of his understanding;" or the remark of +Emerson to the youth who brought him a paper in which he thought he +had refuted Plato: "If you attack the king, be sure that you kill him." + +When the Christian world really takes Jesus _himself_ as its leader, +instead of building its faith on opinions _about_ him, we may +anticipate the arrival of that union which he foresaw and foretold--"As +thou, father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one +in us, that the world may believe that thou hast sent me." Then +Christians, ceasing from party strife and sectarian dissension, +will unite in one mighty effort to cure the evils of humanity and +redress its wrongs. Before a united Christendom, what miseries could +remain unrelieved? War, that criminal absurdity, that monstrous +anachronism, must at last be abolished. Pauperism, vice, and crime, +though continuing in sporadic forms, would cease to exist as a part of +the permanent institutions of civilization. A truly Catholic Church, +united under the Master, would lead all humanity up to a higher plane. +The immense forces developed by modern science, and the magnificent +discoveries in the realm of nature, helpless now to cure the wrongs +of suffering man, would become instruments of potent use under the +guidance of moral forces. + +According to the law of evolution, this is what we have a right to +expect. If we follow the lines of historic development, not being led +into extreme individualism; if we maintain the continuity of human +progress, this vast result must finally arrive. For such reasons I +prefer to remain in the communion of the Christian body, doing what I +may to assist its upward movement. For such reasons I am not a Free +Religionist. + + + + +HAVE ANIMALS SOULS[18] + + +To answer this question, we must first inquire what we mean by a soul. +If we mean a human soul, it is certain that animals do not possess +it,--at least not in a fully developed condition. If we mean, "Do they +possess an immortal soul?" that is, perhaps, a question difficult to +answer either in the affirmative or the negative. But if we mean by +the soul an immaterial principle of life, which coördinates the bodily +organization to a unity; which is the ground of growth, activity, +perception, volition; which is intelligent, affectionate, and to a +certain extent free; then we must admit that animals have souls. + +The same arguments which induce us to believe that there is a soul in +man apply to animals. The world has generally believed that in man, +beside the body, there is also soul. Why have people believed it? The +reason probably is, that, beside all that can be accounted for as the +result of the juxtaposition of material particles, there remains a very +important element unaccounted for. Mechanical and physical agency may +explain much, but the most essential characteristic of vital phenomena +they do not explain. They do not account for the unity in variety, +permanence in change, growth from within by continuous processes, +coming from the vital functions in an organized body. Every such +body has a unity peculiar to itself, which cannot be considered the +result of the collocation of material molecules. It is a unity which +controls these molecules, arranges and rearranges them, maintains a +steady activity, carries the body through the phenomena of growth, and +causes the various organs to coöperate for the purposes of the whole. +The vital power is not merely the result of material phenomena, but +it reacts on these as a cause. Add to this that strange phenomenon of +human consciousness, the sense of personality,--which is the clear +perception of selfhood as a distinct unchanging unit, residing in +a body all of whose parts are in perpetual flux,--and we see why +the opinion of a soul has arisen. It has been assumed by the common +sense of mankind that in every living body the cause of the mode of +existence of each part is contained in the whole. As soon as death +intervenes each part is left free to pass through changes peculiar +to itself alone. Life is a power which acts from the whole upon the +parts, causing them to resist chemical laws, which begin to act as soon +as life departs. The unity of a living body does not result from an +ingenious juxtaposition of parts, like that of a watch, for example. +For the unity of a living body implies that which is called "the vital +vortex," or perpetual exchange of particles. + +A watch or clock is the nearest approach which has been made by man +to the creation of a living being. A watch, for instance, contains +the principle of its action in itself, and is not moved from without; +in that it resembles a living creature. We can easily conceive of a +watch which might be made to go seventy years, without being wound +up. It might need to be oiled occasionally, but not as often as an +animal needs to be fed. A watch is also like a living creature in +having a unity as a whole not belonging to the separate parts, and to +which all parts conspire,--namely, that of marking the progress of +time. Why, then, say that a man has a soul, and that a watch has not? +The difference is this. The higher principle of unity in the watch, +that is, its power of marking time, is wholly an effect, and never a +cause. It is purely and only the result of the arrangement of wheels +and springs; in other words, of material conditions. But in man, the +principle of unity is also a cause. Life reacts upon body. The laws of +matter are modified by the power of life, chemical action is suspended, +living muscles are able to endure without laceration the application of +forces which would destroy the dead fibre. So the thought, the love, +the will of a living creature react on the physical frame. A sight, a +sound, a few spoken words, a message seen in a letter, cause an immense +revulsion in the physical condition. Something is suddenly told us, +and we faint away, or even die, from the effect of the message. Here +mind acts upon matter, showing that in man mind is not merely a result, +but also a cause. Hence men have generally believed in the existence +of a soul in man. They have not been taught it by metaphysicians, it +is one of the spontaneous inductions of common sense from universal +experience. + +But this argument applies equally to prove a soul in animals. The same +reaction of soul on body is constantly apparent. Every time that you +whistle to your dog, and he comes bounding toward you, his mind has +acted on his body. His will has obeyed his thought, his muscles have +obeyed his will. The cause of his motion was mental, not physical. +This is too evident to require any further illustration. Therefore, +regarding the soul as a principle of life, connected with the body +but not its result, or, in other words, as an immaterial principle of +activity, there is the same reason for believing in the soul of animals +that there is for believing in the soul of man. + +But when we ask as to the nature of the animal soul, and how far it is +analogous to that of man, we meet with certain difficulties. Let us +see then how many of the human qualities of the soul are to be found +in animals, and so discover if there is any remainder not possessed by +them, peculiar to ourselves. + +That the vital soul, or principle of life, belongs equally to plants, +animals, and men, is evident. This is so apparent as to be granted +even by Descartes, who regards animals as mere machines, or automata, +destitute of a thinking soul, but not of life or feeling. They are +automata, but living and feeling automata. Descartes denies them a +soul, because he defines the soul as the thinking and knowing power. +But Locke (with whom Leibnitz fully agreed on this point) ascribes to +animals thought as well as feeling, and makes their difference from man +to consist in their not possessing abstract ideas. We shall presently +see the truth of this most sagacious remark. + +Plants, animals, and men are alike in possessing the vital principle, +which produces growth, which causes them to pass through regular +phases of development, which enables them to digest and assimilate +food taken from without, and which carries on a steady circulation +within. To this are added, in the animal, the function of voluntary +locomotion, perception through the senses of an outward world, the +power of feeling pleasure and pain, some wonderful instincts, and some +degree of reflective thought. Animals also possess memory, imagination, +playfulness, industry, the sense of shame, and many other very human +qualities. + +Take, for example, Buffon's fine description of the dog ("Histoire du +Chien"):-- + +"By nature fiery, irritable, ferocious, and sanguinary, the dog in +his savage state is a terror to other animals. But domesticated he +becomes gentle, attached, and desirous to please. He hastens to lay +at the feet of his master his courage, his strength, and all his +abilities. He listens for his master's orders, inquires his will, +consults his opinion, begs his permission, understands the indications +of his wishes. Without possessing the power of human thought, he has +all the warmth of human sentiment. He has more than human fidelity, +he is constant in his attachments. He is made up of zeal, ardor, and +obedience. He remembers kindness longer than wrong. He endures bad +treatment and forgets it--disarming it by patience and submission." + +No one who has ever had a dog for a friend will think this description +exaggerated. If any should so consider it, we will cite for their +benefit what Mr. Jesse, one of the latest students of the canine +race, asserts concerning it, in his "Researches into the History of +the British Dog" (London, 1866). He says that remarkable instances +of the following virtues, feelings, and powers of mind are well +authenticated:-- + +"The dog risks his life to give help; goes for assistance; saves +life from drowning, fire, other animals, and men; assists distress; +guards property; knows boundaries; resents injuries; repays benefits; +communicates ideas; combines with other dogs for several purposes; +understands language; knows when he is about to die; knows death in +a human being; devotes his whole life to the object of his love; dies +of grief and of joy; dies in his master's defense; commits suicide; +remains by the dead; solicits, and gives alarm; knows the characters +of men; recognizes a portrait, and men after long absence; is fond of +praise and sensible to ridicule; feels shame, and is sensible of a +fault; is playful; is incorruptible; finds his way back from distant +countries; is magnanimous to smaller animals; is jealous; has dreams; +and takes a last farewell when dying." + +Much of this, it may be said, is instinctive. We must therefore +distinguish between Instinct and Intelligence; or, rather, between +instinctive intelligence and reflective intelligence. Many writers on +the subject of animals have not carefully distinguished these very +different activities of the soul. Even M. Leroy, one of the first in +modern times who brought careful observation to the study of the nature +of animals, has not always kept in view this distinction---as has been +noticed by a subsequent French writer of very considerable ability, +M. Flourens.[19] The following marks, according to M. Flourens, +distinguish instinct from intelligence:-- + + INSTINCT INTELLIGENCE + + Is spontaneous, Is deliberate, + " necessary, " conditional, + " invariable, " modifiable, + " innate, comes from observation and experience, + " fatal, is free, + " particular. " general. + +Thus the building faculty of the beaver is an instinct, for it acts +spontaneously, and always in the same way. It is not a general faculty +of building in all places and ways, but a special power of building +houses of sticks, mud, and other materials, with the entrance under +water and a dry place within. When beavers build on a running stream, +they begin by making a dam across it, which preserves them from losing +the water in a drought; but this also is a spontaneous and invariable +act. The old stories of their driving piles, using their tails for +trowels, and having well-planned houses with many chambers, have been +found to be fictitious. That the beaver builds by instinct, though +intelligence comes in to modify the instinct, appears from his wishing +to build his house or his dam when it is not needed. Mr. Broderip, +the English naturalist, had a pet beaver that manifested his building +instinct by dragging together warming-pans, sweeping-brushes, boots, +and sticks, which he would lay crosswise. He then would fill in his +wall with clothes, bits of coal, turf, laying it very even. Finally, +he made a nest for himself behind his wall with clothes, hay, and +cotton. As this creature had been brought from America very young, all +this procedure must have been instinctive. But his intelligence showed +itself in his adapting his mode of building to his new circumstances. +His instinct led him to build his wall, and to lay his sticks +crosswise, and to fill in with what he could find, according to the +universal and spontaneous procedure of all beavers. But his making use +of a chest of drawers for one side of his wall, and taking brushes and +boots instead of cutting down trees, were no doubt acts of intelligence. + +A large part of the wonderful procedure of bees is purely instinctive. +Bees, from the beginning of the world, and in all countries of the +earth, have lived in similar communities; have had their queen, to +lay eggs for them: if their queen is lost, have developed a new one +in the same way, by altering the conditions of existence in one of +their larvæ; have constructed their hexagonal cells by the same +mathematical law, so as to secure the most strength with the least +outlay of material. All this is instinct--for it is spontaneous and not +deliberate; it is universal and constant. But when the bee deflects his +comb in order to avoid a stick thrust across the inside of the hive, +and begins the variation before he reaches the stick, this can only be +regarded as an act of intelligence. + +Animals, then, have both instincts and intelligence; and so has man. A +large part of human life proceeds from tendencies as purely, if not as +vigorously, instinctive as those of animals. Man has social instincts, +which create human society. Children play from an instinct. The +maternal instinct in a human mother is, till modified by reflection, as +spontaneous, universal, and necessary as the same instinct in animals. +But in man the instincts are reduced to a minimum, and are soon +modified by observation, experience, and reflection. In animals they +are at their maximum, and are modified in a much less degree. + +It is sometimes said that animals do not reason, but man does. But +animals are quite capable of at least two modes of reasoning, that of +comparison and that of inference. They compare two modes of action, or +two substances, and judge the one to be preferable to the other, and +accordingly select it. Sir Emerson Tennent tells us that elephants, +employed to build stone walls in Ceylon, will lay each stone in its +place, then stand off and look to see if it is plumb, and, if not, will +move it with their trunk, till it lies perfectly straight. This is a +pure act of reflective judgment. He narrates an adventure which befell +himself in Ceylon while riding on a narrow road through the forest. He +heard a rumbling sound approaching, and directly there came to meet him +an elephant, bearing on his tusks a large log of wood, which he had +been directed to carry to the place where it was needed. Sir Emerson +Tennent's horse, unused to these monsters, was alarmed, and refused to +go forward. The sagacious elephant, perceiving this, evidently decided +that he must himself go out of the way. But to do this, he was obliged +first to take the log from his tusks with his trunk, and lay it on the +ground, which he did, and then backed out of the road between the trees +till only his head was visible. But the horse was still too timid to go +by, whereupon the judicious pachyderm pushed himself farther back, till +all of his body, except the end of his trunk, had disappeared. Then Sir +Emerson succeeded in getting his horse by, but stopped to witness the +result. The elephant came out, took the log up again, laid it across +his tusks, and went on his way. This story, told by an unimpeachable +witness, shows several successive acts of reasoning. The log-bearer +inferred from the horse's terror that it would not pass; he again +inferred that in that case he must himself get out of the way; that, to +do this, he must lay down his log; that he must go farther back; and +accompanying this was his sense of duty, making him faithful to his +task; and, most of all, his consideration of what was due to this human +traveler, which kept him from driving the horse and man before him as +he went on. + +There is another well-authenticated anecdote of an elephant; he was +following an ammunition wagon, and saw the man who was seated on it +fall off just before the wheel. The man would have been crushed had +not the animal instantly run forward, and, without an order, lifted +the wheel with his trunk, and held it suspended in the air, till the +wagon had passed over the man without hurting him. Here were combined +presence of mind, good will, knowledge of the danger to the man, and a +rapid calculation of how he could be saved. + +Perhaps I may properly introduce here an account of the manifestations +of mind in the animals I have had the most opportunity of observing. +I have a horse, who was named Rubezahl, after the mountain spirit of +the Harz made famous in the stories of Musaeus. We have contracted his +name to Ruby for convenience. Now I have reason to believe that Ruby +can distinguish Sunday from other days. On Sunday I have been in the +habit of driving to Boston to church; but on other days, I drive to the +neighboring village, where are the post-office, shops of mechanics, and +other stores. To go to Boston, I usually turn to the right when I leave +my driveway; to go to the village, I turn to the left. Now, on Sunday, +if I leave the reins loose, so that the horse may do as he pleases, he +invariably turns to the right, and goes to Boston. On other days, he +as invariably turns to the left, and goes to the village. He does this +so constantly and regularly, that none of the family have any doubt +of the fact that he knows that it is Sunday; _how_ he knows it we are +unable to discover. I have left my house at the same hour on Sunday +and on Monday, in the same carriage, with the same number of persons +in it; and yet on Sunday he always turns to the right, and on Monday +to the left. He is fed at the same time on Sunday as on other days, +but the man comes back to harness him a little later on Sunday than at +other times, and that is possibly his method of knowing that it is the +day for going to Boston. But see how much of observation, memory, and +thought is implied in all this. + +Again, Ruby has shown a very distinct feeling of the supernatural. +Driving one day up a hill near my house, we met a horse-car coming down +toward us, running without horses, simply by the force of gravity. My +horse became so frightened that he ran into the gutter, and nearly +overturned me; and I got him past with the greatest difficulty. Now +he had met the cars coming down that hill, drawn by horses, a hundred +times, and had never been alarmed. Moreover, only a day or two after, +in going up the same hill, we saw a car moving uphill, before us, where +the horses were entirely invisible, being concealed by the car itself, +which was between us and the horses. But this did not frighten Ruby +at all. He evidently said to himself, "The horses are there, though I +do not see them." But in the other case it seemed to him an effect +without a cause--something plainly supernatural. There was nothing +in the aspect of the car itself to alarm him; he had seen that often +enough. He was simply terrified by seeing it move without any adequate +cause--just as we should be, if we saw our chairs begin to walk about +the room. + +Our Newfoundland dog's name is Donatello; which, again, is shortened +to Don in common parlance. He has all the affectionate and excellent +qualities of his race. He is the most good-natured creature I ever saw. +Nothing provokes him. Little dogs may yelp at him, the cat or kittens +may snarl and spit at him: he pays no attention to them. A little +dog climbs on his back, and lies down there; one of the cats will +lie between his legs. But at night, when he is on guard, no one can +approach the house unchallenged. + +But his affection for the family is very great. To be allowed to come +into the house and lie down near us is his chief happiness. He was very +fond of my son E----, who played with him a good deal, and when the +young man went away, during the war, with a three months' regiment, +Don was much depressed by his absence. He walked down regularly to the +station, and stood there till a train of cars came in; and when his +friend did not arrive in it, he went back, with a melancholy air, to +the house. But at last the young man returned. It was in the evening, +and Don was lying on the piazza. As soon as he saw his friend, his +exultation knew no bounds. He leaped upon him, and ran round him, +barking and showing the wildest signs of delight. All at once he turned +and ran up into the garden, and came back bringing an apple, which he +laid down at the feet of his young master. It was the only thing he +could think of to do for him--and this sign of his affection was quite +pathetic. + +The reason why Don thought of the apple was probably this: we had +taught him to go and get an apple for the horse, when so directed. We +would say, "Go, Don, get an apple for poor Ruby;" then he would run up +into the garden, and bring an apple, and hold it up to the horse; and +perhaps when the horse tried to take it he would pull it away. After +doing this a few times, he would finally lie down on his back under the +horse's nose, and allow the latter to take the apple from his mouth. +He would also kiss the horse, on being told to do so. When we said, +"Don, kiss poor Ruby," he leaped up and kissed the horse's nose. But he +afterwards hit upon a more convenient method of doing it. He got his +paw over the rein and pulled down the horse's head, so that he could +continue the osculatory process more at his ease, sitting comfortably +on the ground. + +Animals know when they have done wrong; so far, at least, as that means +disobeying our will or command. The only great fault which Don ever +committed was stealing a piece of meat from our neighbor's kitchen. I +do not think he was punished or even scolded for it; for we did not +find it out till later, when it would have done no good to punish him. +But a week or two after that, the gentleman whose kitchen had been +robbed was standing on my lawn, talking with me, and he referred, +laughingly, to what Don had done. He did not even look at the dog, much +less change his tones to those of rebuke. But the moment Don heard his +name mentioned, he turned and walked away, and hid himself under the +low branches of a Norway spruce near by. He was evidently profoundly +ashamed of himself. Was this the result of conscience, or of the love +of approbation? In either case, it was very human. + +That the love of approbation is common to many animals we all know. +Dogs and horses certainly can be influenced by praise and blame, as +easily as men. Many years ago we had occasion to draw a load of gravel, +and we put Ruby into a tip-cart to do the work. He was profoundly +depressed, and evidently felt it as a degradation. He hung his head, +and showed such marks of humiliation that we have never done it since. +But on the other hand, when he goes out, under the saddle, by the side +of a young horse, this veteran animal tries as hard to appear young +as any old bachelor of sixty years who is still ambitious of social +triumphs. He dances along, and goes sideways, and has all the airs and +graces of a young colt. All this, too, is very human. + +At one time my dog was fond of going to the railway station to see +the people, and I always ordered him to go home, fearing he should +be hurt by the cars. He easily understood that if he went there, it +was contrary to my wishes. Nevertheless, he often went; and I do not +know but this fondness for forbidden fruit was rather human, too. So, +whenever he was near the station, if he saw me coming, he would look +the other way, and pretend not to know me. If he met me anywhere else, +he always bounded to meet me with great delight. But at the station +it was quite different. He would pay no attention to my whistle or my +call. He even pretended to be another dog, and would look me right in +the face without apparently recognizing me. He gave me the cut direct, +in the most impertinent manner; the reason evidently being that he knew +he was doing what was wrong, and did not like to be found out. Possibly +he may have relied a little on my near-sightedness, in this manœuvre. + +That animals have acute observation, memory, imagination, the sense of +approbation, strong affections, and the power of reasoning is therefore +very evident. Lord Bacon also speaks of a dog's reverence for his +master as partaking of a religious element. "Mark," says he, "what +a generosity and courage a dog will put on, when he finds himself +maintained by a man, who to him is instead of a God--which courage +he could not attain, without that confidence in a better nature than +his own." Who that has seen the mute admiration and trust in a dog's +eye, as he looks up at his master, but can see in it something of a +religious reverence, the germ and first principle of religion? + +What, then, is the difference between the human soul and that of the +animal in its highest development? + +That there is a very marked difference between man and the highest +animal is evident. The human being, weaker in proportion than all other +animals, has subjected them all to himself. He has subdued the earth by +his inventions. Physically too feeble to dig a hole in the ground like +a rabbit, or to fell a tree like a beaver; unable to live in the water +like a fish, or to move through the air like a bird; he yet, by his +inventive power and his machinery, can compel the forces of nature to +work for him. They are the true genii, slaves of his lamp. Air, fire, +water, electricity, and magnetism build his cities and his stately +ships, run his errands, carry him from land to land, and accept him as +their master. + +Whence does man obtain this power? Some say it is _the human hand_ +which has made man supreme. It is, no doubt, a wonderful machine; a +box of tools in itself. The size and strength of the thumb, and the +power of opposing it to the extremities of the fingers, distinguishes, +according to most anatomists, the human hand from that of the +quadrumanous animals. In those monkeys which are nearest to man, the +thumb is so short and weak, and the fingers so long and slender, +that their tips can scarcely be brought in opposition. Excellent for +climbing, they are not good for taking up small objects or supporting +large ones. But the hand of man could accomplish little without the +mind behind it. It was therefore a good remark of Galen, that "man is +not the wisest of animals because he has a hand; but God has given him +a hand because he is the wisest of animals." + +The size of the human brain, relatively greater than that of almost any +other animal; man's structure, adapting him to stand erect; his ability +to exist in all climates; his power of subsisting on varied food: all +these facts of his physical nature are associated with his superior +mental power, but do not produce it. The question recurs, What enables +him to stand at the head of the animal creation? + +Perhaps the chief apparent distinctions between man and other animals +are these:-- + +1. The lowest races of men use tools; other animals do not. + +2. The lowest human beings possess a verbal language; other animals +have none. + +3. Man has the capacity of self-culture, as an individual; other +animals have not. + +4. Human beings, associated in society, are capable of progress in +civilization, by means of science, art, literature, and religion; other +animals are not. + +5. Men have a capacity for religion; no animal, except man, has this. + +The lowest races of men use tools, but no other animal does this. This +is so universally admitted by science that the presence of the rudest +tools of stone is considered a sufficient trace of the presence of man. +If stone hatchets or hammers or arrowheads are found in any stratum, +though no human bones are detected, anthropologists regard this as +a sufficient proof of the existence of human beings in the period +indicated by such a geologic formation. The only tools used by animals +in procuring food, in war, or in building their homes, are their +natural organs: their beaks, teeth, claws, etc. It may be added that +man alone wears clothes; other animals being sufficiently clothed by +nature. No animals make a fire, though they often suffer from cold; but +there is no race of men unacquainted with the use of fire.[20] + +No animals possess a verbal language. Animals can remember some of the +words used by men, and associate with them their meaning. But this is +not the use of language. It is merely the memory of two associated +facts,--as when the animal recollects where he found food, and goes to +the same place to look for it again. Animals have different cries, +indicating different wants. They use one cry to call their mate, +another to terrify their prey. But this is not the use of verbal +language. Human language implies not merely an acquaintance with the +meaning of particular words, but the power of putting them together in +a sentence. Animals have no such language as this; for, if they had, +it would have been learned by men. Man has the power of learning any +verbal language. Adelung and Vater reckon over three thousand languages +spoken by men, and any man can learn any of them. The negroes speak +their own languages in their own countries; they speak Arabic in North +Africa; they learn to speak English, French, and Spanish in America, +and Oriental languages when they go to the East. If any animals had a +verbal language, with its vocabulary and grammar, men would long ago +have learned it, and would have been able to converse with them. + +Again, no animal except man is capable of self-culture, as an +individual. Animals are trained by external influences; they do not +teach themselves. An old wolf is much more cunning than a young one, +but he has been made so by the force of circumstances. You can teach +your dog tricks, but no dog has ever taught himself any. Yet the lowest +savages teach themselves to make tools, to ornament their paddles +and clubs, and acquire certain arts by diligent effort. Birds will +sometimes practice the tunes which they hear played, till they have +learned them. They will also sometimes imitate each other's songs. +That is, they possess the power of vocal imitation. But to imitate +the sounds we hear is not self-culture. It is not developing a new +power, but it is exercising in a new way a natural gift. Yet we must +admit that in this habit of birds there is the rudiment, at least, of +self-education. + +All races of men are capable of progress in civilization. Many, +indeed, remain in a savage state for thousands of years, and we cannot +positively prove that any particular race which has always been +uncivilized is capable of civilization. But we are led to believe +it from having known of so many tribes of men who have emerged from +apathy, ignorance, and barbarism into the light of science and art. +So it was with all the Teutonic races,--the Goths, Germans, Kelts, +Lombards, Scandinavians. So it was with the Arabs, who roamed for +thousands of years over the deserts, a race of ignorant robbers, and +then, filled with the great inspiration of Islam, flamed up into a +brilliant coruscation of science, literature, art, military success, +and profound learning. What great civilizations have grown up in +China, India, Persia, Assyria, Babylon, Phœnicia, Egypt, Greece, +Rome, Carthage, Etruria! But no such progress has ever appeared among +the animals. As their parents were, five thousand years ago, so, +essentially, are they now. + +Nor are animals religious, in the sense of worshiping unseen powers +higher than themselves. My horse showed a sense of the supernatural, +but this is not worship. + +These are some of the most marked points of difference between man and +all other animals. Now these can all be accounted for by the hypothesis +in which Locke and Leibnitz both agreed; namely, that while animals are +capable of reasoning about facts, they are incapable of abstract ideas. +Or, we may say with Coleridge, that while animals, in common with man, +possess the faculty of understanding, they do not possess that of +reason. Coleridge seems to have intended by this exactly what Locke +and Leibnitz meant by their statement. When my dog Don heard the word +"apple," he thought of the particular concrete apple under the tree; +and not of apples in general, and their relation to pears, peaches, +etc. Don understood me when I told him to go and get an apple, and +obeyed; but he would not have understood me if I had remarked to him +that apples were better than pears, more wholesome than peaches, not so +handsome as grapes. I should then have gone into the region of abstract +and general ideas. + +Now it is precisely the possession of this power of abstract thought +which will explain the superiority of man to all other animals. It +explains the use of tools; for a tool is an instrument prepared, not +for one special purpose, but to be used generally, in certain ways. +A baboon, like a man, might pick up a particular stone with which to +crack a particular nut; but the ape does not make and keep a stone +hammer, to be used on many similar occasions. A box of tools contains a +collection of saws, planes, draw-knives, etc., not made to use on one +occasion merely, but made for sawing, cutting, and planing purposes +generally. + +Still more evident is it that the power of abstraction is necessary +for verbal language. We do not here use the common term "articulate +speech," for we can conceive of animals articulating their vocal +sounds. But "a word" is an abstraction. The notion is lifted out of the +concrete particular fact, and deposited in the abstract general term. +All words, except proper names, are abstract; and to possess and use a +verbal language is impossible, without the possession of this mental +faculty. + +In regard to self-culture, it is clear that for any steady progress +one must keep before his mind an abstract idea of what he wishes to +do. This enables him to rise above impulse, passion, instinct, habit, +circumstance. By the steady contemplation of the proposed aim, one can +arrange circumstances, restrain impulse, direct one's activity, and +become really free. + +In like manner, races become developed in civilization by the impact +of abstract ideas. Sometimes it is by coming in contact with other +civilized nations, which gives them an ideal superior to anything +before known. Sometimes the motive power of their progress is the +reception of truths of science, art, literature, or religion. + +It is not necessary to show that without abstract, universal, and +necessary ideas no religion is possible; for religion, being the +worship of unseen powers, conceived as existing, as active, as +spiritual, necessarily implies these ideas in the mind of the worshiper. + +We find, then, in the soul of animals all active, affectionate, +and intelligent capacities, as in that of man. The only difference +is that man is capable of abstract ideas, which give him a larger +liberty of action, which enable him to adopt an aim and pursue it, +and which change his affections from an instinctive attachment into a +principle of generous love. Add, then, to the animal soul the capacity +for abstract ideas, and it would rise at once to the level of man. +Meantime, in a large part of their nature, they have the same faculties +with ourselves. They share our emotions, and we theirs. They are made +"a little lower" than man, and if we are souls, so surely are they. + +Are they immortal? To discuss this question would require more space +than we can here give to it. For my own part, I fully believe in the +continued existence of all souls, at the same time assuming their +continued advance. The law of life is progress; and one of the best +features in the somewhat unspiritual theory of Darwin is its profound +faith in perpetual improvement. This theory is the most startling +optimism that has ever been taught, for it makes perpetual progress to +be the law of the whole universe. + +Many of the arguments for the immortality of man cannot indeed be +used for our dumb relations, the animals. We cannot argue from their +universal faith in a future life; nor contend that they need an +immortality on moral grounds, to recompense their good conduct and +punish their wickedness. We might indeed adduce a reason implied in +our Saviour's parable, and believe that the poor creatures who have +received their evil things in this life will be comforted in another. +Moreover, we might find in many animals qualities fitting them for a +higher state. There are animals, as we have seen, who show a fidelity, +courage, generosity, often superior to what we see in man. The dogs +who have loved their master more than food, and starved to death on +his grave, are surely well fitted for a higher existence. Jesse tells +a story of a cat which was being stoned by cruel boys. Men went by, +and did not interfere; but a dog, that saw it, did. He drove away the +boys, and then took the cat to his kennel, licked her all over with his +tongue, and his conduct interested people, who brought her milk. The +canine nurse took care of her till she was well, and the cat and dog +remained fast friends ever after. Such an action in a man would have +been called heroic; and we think such a dog would not be out of place +in heaven. + +Yet it is not so much on particular cases of animal superiority that +we rely, but on the difficulty of conceiving, in any sense, of the +destruction of life. The principle of life, whether we call it soul +or body, matter or spirit, escapes all observation of the senses. All +that we know of it by observation is that, beside the particles of +matter which compose an organized body, there is something else, not +cognizable by the senses, which attracts and dismisses them, modifies +and coördinates them. The unity of the body is not to be found in +its sensible phenomena, but in something which escapes the senses. +Into the vortex of that life material molecules are being continually +absorbed, and from it they are perpetually discharged. If death means +the dissolution of the body, we die many times in the course of our +earthly career, for every body is said by human anatomists to be +changed in all its particles once in seven years. What then remains, +if all the particles go? The principle of organization remains, and +this invisible, persistent principle constitutes the identity of every +organized body. If I say that I have the _same_ body when I am fifty +which I had at twenty, it is because I mean by "body" that which +continues unaltered amid the fast-flying particles of matter. This life +principle makes and remakes the material frame; that body does not +make it. When what we call death intervenes, all that we can assert +is that the life principle has done wholly and at once what it has +always been doing gradually and in part. What happens to the material +particles, we see: they become detached from the organizing principle, +and relapse into simply mechanical and chemical conditions. What has +happened to that organizing principle we neither see nor know; and we +have absolutely no reason at all for saying that it has ceased to exist. + +This is as true of plants and of animals as of men; and there is no +reason for supposing that when these die their principle of life +is ended. It probably has reached a crisis, which consists in the +putting on of new forms and ascending into a higher order of organized +existence. + + + + +APROPOS OF TYNDALL[21] + + +We have all read in our "Vicar of Wakefield" the famous speech made +by the venerable and learned Ephraim Jenkinson to good Dr. Primrose: +"The cosmogony, or creation of the world, has puzzled philosophers in +all ages. Sanchoniathon, Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus have +all attempted it in vain," etc. But we hardly expected to have this +question of cosmogony reopened by an eminent scientist in an address +to the British Association. What "Sanchoniathon, Manetho, Berosus, and +Ocellus Lucanus have all attempted in vain" Professor Tyndall has not +only discussed before a body of men learned in the physical sciences, +but has done it in such a manner as to rouse two continents to a new +interest in the question. One party has immediately accused him of +irreligion and infidelity, while another has declared his statements +innocent if not virtuous. But the question which has been least debated +is, What has the professor really said? or, Has he said anything? + +The celebrated sentence which has occasioned this excitement is as +follows:-- + +"Abandoning all disguise, the confession that I feel bound to make +before you is, that I prolong the vision backward across the boundary +of the experimental evidence, and discern in that matter which we in +our ignorance, and notwithstanding our professed reverence for its +Creator, have hitherto covered with opprobrium, the promise and potency +of every form and quality of life." + +Does he, then, declare himself a materialist? A materialist is one +who asserts everything which exists to be matter, or an affection of +matter. What, then, is matter, and how is that to be defined? The +common definition of matter is, that which is perceived by the senses, +or the substance underlying sensible phenomena. By means of the senses +we perceive such qualities or phenomena as resistance, form, color, +perfume, sound. Whenever we observe these phenomena, whenever we see, +hear, taste, touch, or smell, we attribute the affections thus excited +to an external substance, which we call _matter_. But we are aware of +other phenomena which are _not_ perceived by the senses,--- such as +thought, love, and will. We are as certain of their existence as we +are of sensible phenomena. I am as sure of the reality of love as I am +of the whiteness of chalk. By a law of our mind, whenever we perceive +sensible phenomena, we necessarily attribute them to a substance +outside of ourselves, which we call matter. And by another law, or the +same law, whenever we perceive the phenomena of consciousness, we +necessarily attribute them to a substance which we call soul, mind, or +spirit. All that we know of matter, and all that we know of soul, is +their phenomena, and as these are entirely different, we are obliged +to assume that matter and mind are different. None of the qualities or +attributes of matter belong to mind, none of those of mind to matter. + +Does Tyndall deny this distinction? Apparently not. He not only makes +Bishop Butler declare, with unanswerable power, that materialism can +never show any connection between molecular processes and the phenomena +of consciousness, but he distinctly iterates this in his own person +at the end of the address; asserting that there is no fusion possible +between the two classes of facts, those of sensation and those of +consciousness. Professor Tyndall, then, in the famous sentence above +quoted, does not declare himself a materialist in the only sense +in which the term has hitherto been used. He does not pretend that +sensation, thought, emotion, and will are reducible, in the last +analysis, to solidity, extension, divisibility, etc.; he positively and +absolutely denies this. + +When Tyndall, therefore, asserts that he discerns in matter the +promise and potency of every form and quality of life, he uses the +word "matter" in a new sense. He does not mean by it the underlying +subject of sensible phenomena. It is not the matter which we see, +hear, touch, taste, and smell. What is it then? It is something beyond +the limits of observation and experiment; for he says that in order to +discover it we must "prolong the vision backward across the boundary +of the experimental evidence." In short, it is something which we know +nothing about. It is a conjecture, an opinion, a theoretical matter. In +another place he calls this imaginary substance "a cosmical life." This +something, which shall be the common basis of the phenomena of sense +and soul, not only is not known, but apparently is not knowable. For he +assures us that the very attempt to understand this cosmical life which +makes the connection between physical and mental phenomena, is "to soar +in a vacuum," or "to try to lift one's self by his own waistband." + +Of course, then, the contents of the famous sentence are not _science_. +It is not the great scientist, the profound observer of nature, the +distinguished experimentalist, who speaks to us in that sentence, but +one who is theorizing, as we all have a right to theorize. We also, +if we choose, may imagine some "cosmical life" behind both matter and +soul, as the common origin of both, and call this life _spirit_. We +shall then be thinking of exactly the same substance that Tyndall is +thinking of, only we give it another name. He has merely given another +name to the great Being behind all the phenomena of body and soul, out +of which or whom all proceed. But to give another name to a fact is +not to tell us anything more about it. All meaning having evaporated +from the word "matter," the sentence loses its whole significance, and +it appears that the alarming declaration asserts nothing at all! In +"abandoning all disguise" Tyndall has run little risk, for our analysis +shows that he has not asserted anything except, perhaps, this, that +there is, in his judgment, some unknown common basis in which matter +and mind both inhere. This assertion is not alarming nor dangerous, for +it is only what has always been believed. + +As there is no materialism, in any known sense of that term, in the +doctrine of this address, so likewise there is no atheism. In fact, in +this same sentence Tyndall speaks of the "creator" of what he likes +to call "matter" or "cosmical life." He objects strongly to a creator +who works mechanically, and he seems to reprove Darwin for admitting +an original or primordial form, created at first by the Deity. "The +anthropomorphism, which it seemed the object of Mr. Darwin to set +aside, is as firmly associated with the creation of a few forms as with +the creation of a multitude." In another passage he says: "Is there not +a temptation to close to some extent with Lucretius, when he affirms +that nature is seen to do all things spontaneously of herself without +the meddling of the gods?". But this last sentence shows a singular +vacillation in so clear a thinker as Tyndall. How can one close "to +some extent" with such a statement as that of Lucretius? Either the +gods meddle, or they do not meddle. They can hardly be considered as +meddling "to some extent." In still another passage he contrasts the +doctrine of evolution with the usual doctrine of creation, rejecting +the last in favor of the other, because creation makes of God "an +artificer, fashioned after the human model, and acting by broken +efforts, as man is seen to act." + +All these expressions are somewhat vague, implying, as it seems, a +certain obscurity in Tyndall's own thought. But it is not atheism. +His "cosmical life" probably is exactly what Cudworth means by +"plastic life." It is well known that Cudworth, whose great work +is a confutation of all atheism, himself admits what he calls "a +plastic nature" in the universe as a subordinate instrument of divine +Providence. Just as Tyndall objects to regarding the Deity as "an +artificer," Cudworth objects to the "mechanic theists," who make the +Deity act directly upon matter from without, by separate efforts, +instead of pouring a creative and arranging life into nature. We can +easily see that Cudworth, like Tyndall, would object to Darwin's one or +two "primordial germs." His "plastic nature" is working everywhere and +always, though under a divine guidance. It is "a life," and therefore +incorporeal. It is an unconscious life, which acts, not knowingly, +but fatally. Man, according to Cudworth, partakes of this life from +the life of the universe, just as he partakes of heat and cold from +the heat and cold of the universe. Thus Cudworth, believing in some +such "cosmical life" as Tyndall imagines, conceives it as being itself +the organ and instrument of the Deity. Tyndall, therefore, though +less clear in his statements than Cudworth, is not logically involved +in atheism by those statements, unless we implicate in the same +condemnation the writer whose vast work constitutes the fullest arsenal +of weapons against all the forms of atheism. + +Unfortunately, however, Tyndall does not come to any clearness on +this point, which in one possessing such a lucidity of intellect must +be occasioned by his leaving his own domain of science and venturing +into this metaphysical world, with which he is not so familiar. +His acquaintance with the history of these studies seems not to be +extensive. For example, he attributes to Herbert Spencer, as if he were +the discoverer, what both Hobbes and Descartes had already stated, +that there is no necessary resemblance between our sensations and the +external objects from which they are derived. In regard to a belief in +God, he tells us that in his weaker moments he loses it, or that it +becomes clouded and dim, but that when he is at his best he accepts it +most fully. This belief, therefore, is not with Tyndall a matter of +conviction, founded on reason, but a question of moods. No wonder, +then, that he relegates religion to the region of sentiment, and +declares that it has nothing to do with knowledge. It must not touch +any question of cosmogony, or, if it does, must "submit to the control +of science" in that field. But what has science to do with cosmogony? +Science rests on observation of facts; but our professor tells us +that he obtains his great cosmological idea of "a cosmical life" by +prolonging his vision backward "across the boundary of the experimental +evidence." Such science as this, which is based on no experience, and +is incapable of verification, has hardly the right to warn religious +belief away from any field. + +Tyndall seems a little astray in making creation and evolution +contradictory and incompatible. Evolution, he tells us, is the +manifestation of a power wholly inscrutable to the intellect of man. We +know that God is,--that is, we know it in our better moods,--but _what_ +God is, we cannot ever know. At all events we must not consider him as +a Creator. "Two courses," says Tyndall, "and only two, are possible. +Either let us open our doors freely to the conception of creative acts, +or, abandoning them, let us radically change our notions of matter." +His objections to the idea of a Creator appear to be (1) that it is +"derived, not from the study of Nature, but from the observation of +men;" and (2) that it represents the Deity "as an artificer, fashioned +after a human model, and acting by broken efforts as man is seen to +act." + +Are these objections sound? When we study man, are we not then also +studying Nature? Is not man himself the highest manifestation of +Nature? If so, and if we see the quality of any power best in its +highest and fullest operations, we can study the nature of God best +by looking into our own. We should, in fact, know very little of +Nature if we did not look within as well as without. Tyndall justly +demands unlimited freedom of investigation in the pursuit of science. +But whence came this very idea of freedom except from the human mind? +Nothing in the external world is free; all is fatal. Such ideas as +cause, force, substance, law, unity, ideality, are not observed in +the outward world--they are given by the activity of the mind itself. +Subtract these from our thought, and we should know very little of +Nature or its origin. + +No doubt the idea of a Creator, and of one perfect in wisdom, power, +and goodness, is derived by man from his own mind. But it is not +necessary that such a Creator should be an "artificer," or proceed by +"broken efforts." He may act by evolution, or processes of development. +He may create perpetually, by a life flowing from himself into all +things. He may create the universe anew at every moment--not as a +man lights a torch with a match and then goes away, but as the sun +creates his image in the water by a perpetual process. Thus God may be +regarded as _creating_ each animal and each plant, while he maintains +the mysterious force of development by which it grows from its egg or +its seed. The essential idea of creation is an infinite cause, acting +according to a perfect intelligence, for a perfect good. There is +nothing, necessarily, of an artificer or of broken efforts in this. It +is the very idea of divine creation given in the New Testament. "From +whom, and through whom, and to whom, are all things." "In him, we live, +and move, and have our being." The theist may well accept the view +given by Goethe, in his little poem, "Gott, Gemüth, und Welt." + + "What kind of God would He be who only pushes the universe from + without? + Who lets the All of Things run round and round on his finger? + It becomes him far better to move the universe from within, + To take Nature up into Himself, to let Himself down into Nature, + So that whatever lives, and moves, and has its being in Him + Never loses His power, never misses His spirit." + +Such a conception of God, as a perpetual Creator, is essential to the +intellectual rest of the human mind, and it is painful to see the +irresolution of Professor Tyndall in regard to it. "Clear and confident +as Jove" in the domain which is his own, where his masterly powers of +observation, discrimination, and judgment leave him without a peer, he +seems shorn of his strength on entering this field of metaphysics. +He has warned theology not to trespass on the grounds of science; or, +if she enters them, to submit to science as her superior. Theology +has been in the habit of treating science in the same supercilious +way; telling her that she was an intruder if she ventured to discuss +questions of psychology or religion. This is equally unwise on either +part. Theologians should be glad when men of science become seriously +interested in these great questions of the Whence and the Whither. The +address of Professor Tyndall is excellent in its intention as well as +in its candid and manly treatment of the subject. Its indecision and +indistinctness are probably due to his having accepted too implicitly +the guidance of Spencer, thus assuming that religious truth is +unknowable, that creation is impossible, and that only phenomena can +become objects of knowledge. "Insoluble mystery" is therefore his final +answer to the questions he has himself raised. + +Goethe is wiser when he follows the Apostle Paul, and regards the +Deity as "the fullness which filleth all in all." There is no unity +to thought, and no hope for scientific progress, more than for moral +culture, unless we see intelligence at the centre, intelligence on the +circumference of being. To place an impenetrable darkness instead of +an unclouded light on the throne of the universe, is to throw a shadow +over the Creation. + +We say that there is no unity in thought without this conviction. The +only real unity we know in the world is our own. All we see around +us, including our own body, is divisible, subject to alteration and +change. Only the ego, or soul, is conscious of a perfect unity in a +perpetual identity. Unless we can attribute to the source of all being +a similar personal unity, there can be no coherence to science, but it +must forever remain fragmentary and divided. This is what we mean by +asserting the personality of Deity. This idea reaches what Lord Bacon +calls "the vertical point of natural philosophy" or "the summary law of +Nature," and constitutes, as he declares, "the union of all things in a +perpetual and uniform law." + +And unless we can recognize in the ultimate fountain of being an +intelligent purpose, the meaning of the universe departs. Without +intelligence in the cause there is none in the effect. Then the world +has no meaning, life no aim. The universe comes out of darkness, and is +plunging into darkness again. + +Take away from the domain of knowledge the idea of a creating and +presiding intelligence, and there remains no motive for science itself. +Professor Tyndall is sagacious enough to see and candid enough to admit +that "without moral force to whip it into action the achievements of +the intellect would be poor indeed," and that "science itself not +unfrequently derives motive power from ultra-scientific sources." Faith +in God, as an intelligent creator and ruler of the world, has awakened +enthusiasm for scientific investigation among both the Aryan and the +Semitic races. + +The purest and highest form of monotheism is that of Christianity; and +in Christendom has science made its largest progress. Not by martyrs +for science, but by martyrs for religion, has the human mind been +emancipated. Mr. Tyndall says of scientific freedom, "We fought and won +our battle even in the middle ages." But the heroes of intellectual +liberty have been the heroes of faith. Hundreds of thousands have died +for a religious creed; but how many have died for a scientific theory? +Luther went to Worms, and maintained his opinions there in defiance +of the anathemas of the church and the ban of the empire, but Galileo +denied his most cherished convictions on his knees. Galileo was as +noble a character as Luther; but science does not create the texture +of soul which makes so many martyrs in all the religious sects of +Christendom. Let the doctrine of cosmical force supplant our faith in +the Almighty, and in a few hundred years science would probably fade +out of the world from pure inanition. The world would probably not care +enough for _anything_ to care for science. The light of eternity must +fall on this our human and earthly life, to arouse the soul to a living +and permanent interest even in things seen and temporal. + +Professor Tyndall says: "Whether the views of Lucretius, Darwin, and +Spencer are right or wrong, we claim the freedom to discuss them. The +ground which they cover is scientific ground." + +It is not only a right, but a duty to examine these theories, since +they are held seriously and urged earnestly by able men. But we must +doubt whether they ought to claim the authority of science. They are +proposed by scientific men, and they refer to scientific subjects. But +these theories, in their present development, belong to metaphysics +rather than to science. Science consists, first, of observation of +facts; secondly, of laws inferred from those facts; and thirdly, of +a verification of those laws by new observation and experiment. That +which cannot be verified is no part of science; astronomy is a science, +since every eclipse and occultation verifies its laws; geology is a +science, since every new observation of the strata and their contents +accords with the established part of the system; chemistry is a +science for the same reason. But Darwin's theory of the transformation +of species by natural selection is as yet unverified. "There is no +evidence of a direct descent of earlier from later species in the +geological succession of animals." So says Agassiz, and on this point +his testimony can hardly be impeached. Professor W. Thompson, another +good geological authority, says: "In successive geological formations, +although new species are constantly appearing, and there is abundant +evidence of progressive change, no single case has yet been observed +of one species passing through a series of inappreciable modifications +into another." Neither has any such change taken place within historic +times, for the animals and plants found in the tombs of Egypt are +"identical, in all respects," says M. Quatrefages, "with those now +existing." He adds the opinion, after a very careful and candid +examination of the hypothesis of Darwin, that "the theory and the +facts do not agree." Not being verified, then, this theory is not yet +science, but an unverified mental hypothesis, that is, metaphysics. + +It is important that this should be distinctly said, for when men +eminent in science propound new theories, these theories themselves are +apt to be regarded as science, and those who oppose them are accused +of being opposed to science. This is the tendency which Professor +Tyndall has so justly described in this very address: "When the human +mind has achieved greatness and given evidence of power in any domain, +there is a tendency to credit it with similar power in any other +domain." Because Tyndall is great in experimental science, many are +apt to accept his cosmological conclusions. Because he is a great +observer in natural history, his metaphysical theories are supposed +to be supported by observation, and to rest on experience. Professor +Tyndall's own address terminates, not in science, but nescience. It +treats of a realm of atoms and molecules whose existence science has +never demonstrated, and attributes to them potencies which science has +never verified. It is a system, not made necessary by the stringent +constraint of facts, but avowedly constructed in order to avoid the +belief in an intelligent Creator, and a universe marked by the presence +of design. His theory, he admits, no less than that of Darwin, was not +constructed in the pure interests of truth for its own sake. There was +another purpose in both,--to get rid of a theology of final causes, of +a theology which conceives of God as a human artificer. He wished to +exclude religion from the field of cosmogony, and forbid it to intrude +on the region of knowledge. Theologians have often been reproached +for studying "with a purpose," but it seems that this is a frailty +belonging not to theologians only, but to all human beings who care a +good deal for what they believe. + +Professor Tyndall accepts religious faith as an important element of +human nature, but considers it as confined to the sentiments, and +as not based in knowledge. He doubtless comes to this conclusion +from following too implicitly the traditions of modern English +psychology. These assume that knowledge comes only from without, +through the senses, and never from within, through intuition. This +prepossession, singularly English and insular, is thus stated by John +Stuart Mill in his article on Coleridge. "Sensation, and the mind's +consciousness of its own acts, are not only the exclusive sources, +but the sole materials of our knowledge. There is no knowledge _a +priori_; no truths cognizable by the mind's inward light, and grounded +on intuitive evidence." These views have been developed in England by +the two Mills, Herbert Spencer, Bain, and others, who have made great +efforts to show how sensations may be transformed into thoughts; how +association of ideas may have developed instincts; how hereditary +impressions, repeated for a million years, may at last have taken on +the aspect of necessary truths. In short, they have laid out great +labor and ingenuity in proving that a sensation may, very gradually, be +transformed into a thought. + +But all this labor is probably a waste of time and of intellectual +power. The attempt at turning sensation into thought only results in +turning thought into sensation. It is an error that we only know what +we perceive through the senses, or transform by the action of the +mind. It is not true that we only know that of which we can form a +sensible image. We know the existence of the soul as certainly as that +of the body. We know the infinite and the eternal as well as we know +the finite and temporal. We know substance, cause, immortal beauty, +absolute truth, as surely as the flitting phenomena which pass within +the sphere of sensational experience. These convictions belong, not to +the sphere of sentiment and emotion, but to that of knowledge. It is +because they show us realities and not imaginations, that they nerve +the soul to such vast efforts in the sphere of morals, literature, and +religion. + +The arguments against the independent existence of the soul which +Tyndall puts into the mouth of his Lucretian disciple are not difficult +to answer. "You can form no picture of the soul," he says. No; and +neither can we form a mental picture of love or hate, of right and +wrong, or even of bodily pain and pleasure. "If localized in the body, +the soul must have form." Must a pain, localized in the finger, have +form? "When a leg is amputated, in which part does the soul reside?" +We answer, that the soul resides in the body, with reduced power. Its +instrument is less perfect than before--like a telescope which has +lost a lens. "If consciousness is an essential attribute of the soul, +where is the soul when consciousness ceases by the depression of the +brain?" Is there any difficulty, we reply, in supposing that the soul +may pass sometimes into a state of torpor, when its instrument is +injured? A soul may sleep, and so be unconscious, without being dead. +"The diseased brain may produce immorality: can the reason control it? +If not, what is the use of the reason?" To this we answer that the +soul may lose its power with a diseased body; but when furnished with +another and better body, it will regain it. "If you regard the body +only as an instrument, you will neglect to take care of it." Does the +astronomer neglect to take care of his telescope? + +These answers to the Lucretian may be far from complete; but they are +at least as good as the objections. The soul, no doubt, depends on the +body, and cannot do its work well when the body is out of order; but +does that prove it to be the _result_ of the body? If so, the same +argument would prove the carpenter to be the result of his box of +tools, and the organist to be the result of his organ. The organist +draws sweet music from his instrument. But as his organ grows old, +or is injured by the weather, or the pipes crack, and the pedals get +out of order, the music becomes more and more imperfect. At last the +instrument is wholly ruined, and the music wholly ceases. Is, then, +the organist dead, or was he only the result of the organ? "Without +phosphorus, no thought," say the materialists. True. So, "without the +organ, no music." Just as in addition to the musical instrument we need +a performer, so in addition to the brain we need a soul. + +There are two worlds of knowledge,--the outward world, which is +perceived through the senses, and which belongs to physical science, +and the inward world, perceived by the nobler reason, and from which +a celestial light streams in, irradiating the mind through all its +powers. Religion and science are not opposed, though different; their +spheres are different, though not to be divided. Each is supreme in +its own region, but each needs the help of the other in order to do +its own work well. Professor Tyndall claims freedom of discussion and +inquiry for himself and his scientific brethren, and says he will +oppose to the death any limitation of this liberty. He need not be +anxious on this point. Religious faith has already fought this battle, +and won for science as well as for itself perfect liberty of thought. +The Protestant churches may say, "With a great sum obtained we this +freedom." By the lives of its confessors and the blood of its martyrs +has it secured for all men to-day equal rights of thought and speech. +What neither Copernicus, Kepler, nor Galileo could do was accomplished +by the courage of Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox, and Oliver +Cromwell. + +And now the freedom they obtained by such sacrifices we inherit and +enjoy: "We are free-born." We may be thankful that in most countries +to-day no repression nor dictation prevents any man from expressing +his inmost thought. We are glad that the most rabid unbelief and +extreme denial can be spoken calmly in the open day. This is one great +discovery of modern times, that errors lose half their influence when +openly uttered. We owe this discovery to the Reformation. The reformers +made possible a toleration much larger than their own; unwittingly, +while seeking freedom for their own thoughts, they won the same +freedom for others, who went farther than they. They builded better +than they knew. + + * * * * * + +Professor Tyndall's address is tranquil yet earnest, modest, and manly. +But its best result is, that it shows us the impotence of the method +of sensation to explain the mystery of the universe. It has shown us +clearly the limitations of "the understanding judging by sense"--shown +that it sees our world clearly, but is blind to the other. It can tell +every blade of grass, and name every mineral; but it stands helpless +and hopeless before the problem of being. Science and religion may each +say with the apostle, "We know in part and prophesy in part." Together +and united, they may one day see and know the whole. + + + + +LAW AND DESIGN IN NATURE[22] + + +In the paper which opens this discussion on "Law and Design in Nature," +Professor Newcomb announces in a single sentence a proposition, the +truth or falsehood of which, he tells us, is "the sole question +presented for discussion in the present series of papers." + +But, as soon as we examine this proposition, we find that it contains +not one sole question, but three. The three are independent of each +other, and do not necessarily stand or fall together. They are these:-- + +1. "The whole course of Nature, considered as a succession of +phenomena, is conditioned solely by antecedent causes." + +2. In the action of these causes, "no regard to consequences is +traceable." + +3. And no regard to consequences is "necessary to foresee the +phenomena." + +Of these three propositions I admit the truth of the first; deny +the truth of the second; and, for want of space, and because of its +relative unimportance, leave the third unexamined. + +The first proposition is so evidently true, and so universally +admitted, that it was hardly worth positing for discussion. It is +merely affirming that every natural phenomenon implies a cause. The +word "antecedent" is ambiguous, but, if it intends logical and not +chronological antecedence, it is unobjectionable. So understood, we are +merely asked if we can accept the law of universal causation; which +I suppose we shall all readily do, since this law is the basis of +theology no less than of science. Without it, we could not prove the +existence of the first cause. Professor Newcomb has divided us into two +conflicting schools, one of theology and the other of science. Taking +my place in the school of theology, I think I may safely assert for +my brethren that on this point there is no conflict, but that we all +admit the truth of the law of universal causation. It will be noticed +that Professor Newcomb has carefully worded his statement, so as not to +confine us to physical causes, nor even to exclude supernatural causes +from without, working into the nexus of natural laws. He does not +say "antecedent physical causes," nor does he say "causes which have +existed from the beginning." + +Admitting thus the truth of the first proposition, I must resolutely +deny that of the second; since, by accepting it, I should surrender +the very cause I wish to defend, namely, that we can perceive design +in Nature. Final causes are those which "regard consequences." The +principle of finality is defined by M. Janet (in his recent exhaustive +work, "Les Causes finales") as "the present determined by the future." +One example of the way in which we can trace in Nature "a regard to +consequences" is so excellently stated by this eminent philosopher +that we will introduce it here: "Consider what is implied in the egg +of a bird. In the mystery and night of incubation there comes, by the +combination of an incredible number of causes, a living machine within +the egg. It is absolutely separated from the external world, but every +part is related to some future use. The outward physical world which +the creature is to inhabit is wholly divided by impenetrable veils from +this internal laboratory; but a preëstablished harmony exists between +them. Without, there is light; within, an optical machine adapted to +it. Without, there is sound; within, an acoustic apparatus. Without, +are vegetables and animals; within, organs for their reception and +assimilation. Without, is air; within, lungs with which to breathe it. +Without, is oxygen; within, blood to be oxygenized. Without, is earth; +within, feet are being made to walk on it. Without, is the atmosphere; +within, are wings with which to fly through it. Now imagine a blind +and idiotic workman, alone in a cellar, who simply by moving his limbs +to and fro should be found to have forged a key capable of opening +the most complex lock. If we exclude design, this is what Nature is +supposed to be doing." + +That design exists in Nature, and that earthly phenomena actually +depend on final causes as well as on efficient causes, appears from +the industry of man. Man is certainly a part of Nature, and those who +accept evolution must regard him as the highest development resulting +from natural processes. Now, all over the earth, from morning till +evening, men are acting for ends. "Regard to consequences is traceable" +in all their conduct. They are moved by hope and expectation. They +devise plans, and act for a purpose. From the savage hammering his +flint arrowheads, up to a Shakespeare composing "Hamlet," a Columbus +seeking a new way to Asia, or a Paul converting Europe to a Syrian +religion, human industry is a constant proof that a large part of +the course of Nature on this earth is the result of design. And, as +man develops into higher stages, this principle of design rises also +from the simple to the complex, taking ever larger forms. A ship, for +instance, shows throughout the adaptation of means to ends, by which +complex adaptations produce a unity of result. + +And that there is no conflict between the action of physical causes +and final causes is demonstrated by the works of man, since they all +result from the harmonious action of both. In studying human works we +ask two questions,--"How?" and "Why?" We ask, "What is it for?" and +"How is it done?" The two lines of inquiry run parallel, and without +conflict. So, in studying the works of Nature, to seek for design does +not obstruct the investigation of causes, and may often aid it. Thus +Harvey is said to have been led to the discovery of the circulation of +the blood by seeking for the use of the valves of the veins and heart. + +The human mind is so constituted that, whenever it sees an event, +it is obliged to infer a cause. So, whenever it sees adaptation, it +infers design. It is not necessary to know the end proposed, or who +were the agents. Adaptation itself, implying the use of means, leads us +irresistibly to infer intention. We do not know who built Stonehenge, +or some of the pyramids, or what they were built for; but no one doubts +that they were the result of design. This inference is strengthened +if we see combination toward an end, and preparation made beforehand +for a result which comes afterward. From preparation, combination, and +adaptation, we are led to believe in the presence of human design even +where we did not before know of the presence of human beings. A few +rudely shaped stones, found in a stratum belonging to the Quaternary +period, in which man had before not been believed to exist, changed +that opinion. Those chipped flints showed adaptation; from adaptation +design was inferred; and design implied the presence of man. + +Now, we find in Nature, especially in the organization and +instincts of animals, myriads of similar instances of preparation, +combination, and adaptation. Two explanations only of this occurred +to antiquity,--design and chance. Socrates, Plato, and others, were +led by such facts to infer the creation of the world by an intelligent +author--"ille opifex rerum." Democritus, Epicurus, and Lucretius, +ascribed it to the fortuitous concourse of atoms. But modern science +has expelled chance from the universe, and substituted law. Laplace, +observing forty-three instances in the solar system of planets and +their satellites revolving on their axes or moving in their orbits, +from west to east, declared that this could not be a mere coincidence. +Chance, therefore, being set aside, the question takes another form: +"Did the cosmos that we see come by design or by law?" + +But does this really change the question? Granting, for example, the +truth of the theory of the development of all forms of life, under the +operation of law, from a primal cell, we must then ask, "Did these +_laws_ come by chance or by design?" It is not possible to evade that +issue. If the universe resulted from non-intelligent forces, those +forces themselves must have existed as the result of chance or of +intelligence. If you put out the eyes, you leave blindness; if you +strike intelligence out of the creative mystery, you leave blind +forces, the result of accident. Whatever is not from intelligence is +from accident. To substitute law for chance is merely removing the +difficulty a little further back; it does not solve it. + +To eliminate interventions from the universe is not to remove design. +The most profound theists have denied such interruptions of the course +of Nature. Leibnitz is an illustrious example of this. Janet declares +him to have been the true author of the theory of evolution, by his +"Law of Continuity," of "Insensible Perceptions," and of "Infinitely +Small Increments." Yet he also fully believed in final causes. +Descartes, who objected to some teleological statements, believed that +the Creator imposed laws on chaos by which the world emerged into a +cosmos. We know that existing animals are evolved by a continuous +process from eggs, and existing vegetables by a like process from +seeds. No one ever supposed that there was less of design on this +account in their creation. So, if all existing things came at first by +a like process from a single germ, it would not argue less, but far +more, of design in the universe. + +The theory of "natural selection" does not enable us to dispense with +final causes. This theory requires the existence of forces working +according to the law of heredity and the law of variation, together +with a suitable environment. But whence came this arrangement, by +which a law of heredity was combined with a law of variation, and +both made to act in a suitable environment? Here we find again the +three marks of a designing intelligence: preparation, combination, +adaptation. That intelligence which combines and adapts means to ends +is merely remanded to the initial step of the process, instead of being +allowed to act continuously along the whole line of evolution. Even +though you can explain by the action of mechanical forces the whole +development of the solar system and its contents from a nebula, you +have only accumulated all the action of a creative intelligence in the +nebula itself. Because I can explain the mechanical process by which a +watch keeps time, I have not excluded the necessity of a watchmaker. +Because, walking through my neighbor's grounds, I come upon a water-ram +pumping up water by a purely mechanical process, I do not argue that +this mechanism makes the assumption of an inventor superfluous. In +human industry we perceive a power capable of using the blind forces +of Nature for an intelligent end; which prepares beforehand for the +intended result; which combines various conditions suited to produce +it, and so creates order, system, use. But we observe in Nature exactly +similar examples of order, method, and system, resulting from a vast +number of combinations, correlations, and adaptations of natural +forces. Man himself is such a result. He is an animal capable of +activity, happiness, progress. But innumerable causes are combined and +harmonized in his physical frame, each necessary to this end. As the +human intelligence is the only power we know capable of accomplishing +such results, analogy leads us to assume that a similar intelligence +presides over the like combinations of means to ends in Nature. If any +one questions the value of this argument from analogy, let him remember +how entirely we rely upon it in all the business of life. We _know_ +only the motives which govern our own actions; but we infer by analogy +that others act from similar motives. Knowing that we ourselves combine +means designed to effect ends, when we see others adapting means to +ends, we assume that they act also with design. Hence we have a right +to extend the argument further and higher. + +The result of what I have said is this: The phenomena of the universe +cannot be satisfactorily explained except by the study both of +efficient causes and of final causes. Routine scientists, confining +themselves to the one, and routine theologians, confining themselves +to the other, may suppose them to be in conflict. But men of larger +insight, like Leibnitz, Newton, Descartes, and Bacon, easily see the +harmony between them. Like Hegel they say: "Nature is no less artful +than powerful; it attains its end while it allows all things to act +according to their constitution;" or they declare with Bacon that "the +highest link of Nature's chain is fastened to the foot of Jupiter's +chair." But the belief in final causes does not imply belief in +supernatural intervention, nor of any disturbance in the continuity of +natural processes. It means that Nature is pervaded by an intelligent +presence; that mind is above and around matter; that mechanical laws +are themselves a manifestation of some providing wisdom, and that when +we say Nature we also say God.[23] + + + + +HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL + + + + +THE TWO CARLYLES, OR CARLYLE PAST AND PRESENT[24] + + +In Thomas Carlyle's earlier days, when he followed a better inspiration +than his present,--when his writings were steeped, not in cynicism, but +in the pure human love of his fellow beings,--in the days when he did +not worship Force, but Truth and Goodness,--in those days, it was the +fashion of critics to pass the most sweeping censures on his writings +as "affected," "unintelligible," "extravagant." But he worked his way +on, in spite of that superficial criticism,--he won for himself an +audience; he gained renown; he became authentic. _Now_, the same class +of critics admire and praise whatever he writes. For the rule with +most critics is that of the bully in school and college,--to tyrannize +over the new boys, to abuse the strangers, but to treat with respect +whoever has bravely fought his way into a recognized position. Carlyle +has fought his way into the position of a great literary chief,--so +now he may be ever so careless, ever so willful, and he will be spoken +of in high terms by all monthlies and quarterlies. When he deserved +admiration, he was treated with cool contempt; now that he deserves +the sharpest criticism, not only for his false moral position, but +for his gross literary sins, the critics treat him with deference and +respect. + +But let us say beforehand that we can never write of Thomas Carlyle +with bitterness. We have received too much good from him in past +days. He is our "Lost Leader," but we have loved and honored him as +few men were ever loved and honored. It is therefore with tenderness, +and not any cold, indifferent criticism, that we find fault with him +now. We shall always be grateful to the real Carlyle, the old Carlyle +of "Sartor Resartus," of the "French Revolution," of the "Life of +Schiller," of "Heroes and Hero-Worship," and of that long and noble +series of articles in the Edinburgh, Foreign Review, Westminster, and +Frazer, each of which illuminated some theme, and threw the glory of +genius over whatever his mind touched or his pencil drew. + + * * * * * + +Carlyle's "Frederick the Great"[25] seems to us a badly written book. +Let us consider the volume containing the fifteenth, sixteenth, and +seventeenth chapters. Nothing in these chapters is brought out clearly. +When we have finished the book, the mind is filled with a confusion of +vague images. We know that Mr. Carlyle is not bound to "provide us +with brains" as well as with a history, but neither was he so bound in +other days. Yet no such confusion was left after reading the "French +Revolution." How brilliantly distinct was every leading event, every +influential person, every pathetic or poetic episode, in that charmed +narrative! Who can forget Carlyle's account of the "Menads," the +King's "Flight to Varennes," the Constitutions that "would not march," +the "September Massacres," "Charlotte Corday,"--every chief tragic +movement, every grotesque episode, moving forward, distinct and clear, +to the final issue, "a whiff of grapeshot"? Is there anything like that +in this confused "Frederick"? + +Compare, for example, the chapters on Voltaire in the present volume +with the article on Voltaire published in 1829. + +The sixteenth book is devoted to the ten years of peace which followed +the second Silesian war. These were from 1746 to 1756. The book +contains fifteen chapters. Carlyle begins, in chapter i., by lamenting +that there is very little to be known or said about these ten years. +"Nothing visible in them of main significance but a crash of authors' +quarrels, and the crowning visit of Voltaire." Yet one would think +that matter enough might be found in describing the immense activity +of Friedrich, of which Macaulay says, "His exertions were such as were +hardly to be expected from a human body or a human mind." During these +years Frederick brought a seventh part of his people into the army, +and organized and drilled it under his own personal inspection, till +it became the finest in Europe. He compiled a code of laws, in which +he, among the first, abolished torture. He made constant journeys +through his dominions, examining the condition of manufactures, +arts, commerce, and agriculture. He introduced the strictest economy +into the expenditures of the state. He indulged himself, indeed, +in various architectural extravagances at Berlin and Potsdam,--but +otherwise saved every florin for his army. He wrote "Memoirs of the +House of Brandenburg," and an epic poem on the "Art of War." But our +author disdains to give us an account of these things. They are not +picturesque, they can be told in only general terms, and Carlyle +will tell us only what an eyewitness could see or a listener hear. +Accordingly, instead of giving us an account of these great labors of +his hero, he inserts (chapter ii.) "a peep at Voltaire and his divine +Emilie," "a visit to Frederick by Marshal Saxe;" (chapter iii.) a long +account of Candidate Linsenbarth's visit to the king; "Sir Jonas Hanway +stalks across the scene;" the lawsuit of Voltaire about the Jew Hirsch; +"a demon news-writer gives an idea of Friedrich;" the quarrel of +Voltaire and Maupertuis; "Friedrich is visible in Holland to the naked +eye for some minutes." + +This is very unsatisfactory. Reports of eyewitnesses are, no doubt, +picturesque and valuable; but so only on condition of being properly +arranged, and tending, in their use, toward some positive result. Then +the tone of banter, of irony, almost of persiflage, is discouraging. If +the whole story of Friedrich is so unintelligible, uninteresting, or +incommunicable, why take the trouble to write it? The _poco-curante_ +air with which he narrates, as though it were of no great consequence +whether he told his story or not, contrasts wonderfully with his early +earnestness. Carlyle writes this history like a man thoroughly _blasé_. +Impossible for him to take any interest in it himself,--how, then, does +he expect to interest us? Has he not himself told us, in his former +writings, that the man who proposes to teach others anything must be +good enough to believe it first himself? + +Here is the problem we have to solve. How came this change from the +Carlyle of the Past to the Carlyle of the Present,--from Carlyle the +universal believer to Carlyle the universal skeptic,--from him to whom +the world was full of wonder and beauty, to him who can see in it +nothing but Force on the one side and Shams on the other? What changed +that tender, loving, brave soul into this hard cynic? And how was it, +as Faith and Love faded out of him, that the life passed from his +thought, the glory from his pen, and the page, once alive with flashing +ideas, turned into this confused heap of rubbish, in which silver +spoons, old shoes, gold sovereigns, and copper pennies are pitched out +promiscuously, for the patient reader to sift and pick over as he can? +In reading the Carlyle of thirty years ago, we were like California +miners,--come upon a rich _placer_, never before opened, where we could +all become rich in a day. Now the reader of Carlyle is a _chiffonier_, +raking in a heap of street dust for whatever precious matters may turn +up. + +To investigate this question is our purpose now,--and in doing so we +will consider, in succession, these two Carlyles. + +I. It was about the year 1830 that readers of books in this vicinity +became aware of a new power coming up in the literary republic. +Opinions concerning him varied widely. To some he seemed a Jack Cade, +leader of rebels, foe to good taste and all sound opinions. Especially +did his admiration for Goethe and for German literature seem to many +preposterous and extravagant. It was said of these, that "the force +of folly could no further go,"--that they "constituted a burlesque +too extravagant to be amusing." The tone of Carlyle was said to be of +"unbounded assumption;" his language to be "obscure and barbarous;" his +ideas composed of "extravagant paradoxes, familiar truths or familiar +falsehoods;" "wildest extravagance and merest silliness." + +But to others, and especially to the younger men, this new writer +came, opening up unknown worlds of beauty and wonder. A strange +influence, unlike any other, attracted us to his writing. Before we +knew his name, we knew _him_. We could recognize an article by our new +author as soon as we opened the pages of the Foreign Review, Edinburgh, +or Westminster, and read a few paragraphs. But it was not the style, +though marked by a singular freedom and originality--not the tone of +kindly humor, the good-natured irony, the happy illustrations brought +from afar,--not the amount of literary knowledge, the familiarity with +German, French, Italian, Spanish literature,--not any or all of these +which so bewitched us. We knew a young man who used to walk from a +neighboring town to Boston every week, in order to read over again two +articles by Carlyle in two numbers of the Foreign Review lying on a +table in the reading-room of the Athenæum. This was his food, in the +strength of which he could go a week, till hunger drove him back to +get another meal at the same table. We knew other young men and young +women who taught themselves German in order to read for themselves +the authors made so luminous by this writer. Those were counted +fortunate who possessed the works of our author, as yet unpublished +in America,--his "Life of Schiller," his "German Romance," his Review +articles. What, then, was the charm,--whence the fascination? + +To explain this we must describe a little the state of literature and +opinion in this vicinity at the time when Carlyle's writings first made +their appearance. + +Unitarianism and Orthodoxy had fought their battle, and were resting +on their arms. Each had intrenched itself in certain positions, each +had won to its side most of those who legitimately belonged to it. +Controversy had done all it could, and had come to an end. Among the +Unitarians, the so-called "practical preaching" was in vogue; that is, +ethical and moral essays, pointing out the goodness of being good, +and the excellence of what was called "moral virtue." There was, no +doubt, a body of original thinkers and writers,--better thinkers and +writers, it may be, than we have now,--who were preparing the way for +another advance. Channing had already unfolded his doctrine of man, +of which the central idea is, that human nature is not to be moulded +by religion, but to be developed by it. Walker, Greenwood, Ware, and +their brave associates, were conducting this journal with unsurpassed +ability. But something more was needed. The general character of +preaching was not of a vitalizing sort. It was much like what Carlyle +says of preaching in England at the same period: "The most enthusiastic +Evangelicals do not preach a Gospel, but keep describing how it should +and might be preached; to awaken the sacred fire of faith is not their +endeavor; but at most, to describe how faith shows and acts, and +scientifically to distinguish true faith from false." It is "not the +Love of God which is taught, but the love of the Love of God." + +According to this, God was outside of the world, at a distance from +his children, and obliged to communicate with them in this indirect +way, by breaking through the walls of natural law with an occasional +miracle. There was no door by which he could enter into the sheepfold +to his sheep. Miracles were represented, even by Dr. Channing, as +abnormal, as "violations of the laws of nature;" something, therefore, +unnatural and monstrous, and not to be believed except on the best +evidence. God could not be supposed to break through the walls of this +house of nature, except in order to speak to his children on some +great occasions. That he had done it, in the case of Christianity, +could be proved by the eleven volumes of Dr. Lardner, which showed the +Four Gospels to have been written by the companions of Christ, and not +otherwise. + +The whole of this theory rested, it will be observed, on a sensuous +system of mental philosophy. "All knowledge comes through the senses," +was its foundation. Revelation, like every other form of knowledge, +must come through the senses. A miracle, which appeals to the sight, +touch, hearing, is the only possible proof of a divine act. For, +in the last analysis, all our theology rests on our philosophy. +Theology, being belief, must proceed according to those laws of belief, +whatever they are, which we accept and hold. The man who thinks that +all knowledge comes through the senses must receive his theological +knowledge also that way, and no other. This was the general opinion +thirty or forty years ago; hence this theory of Christianity, which +supposes that God is obliged to break his own laws in order to +communicate it. + +But the result of this belief was harmful. It tended to make +our religion formal, our worship a mere ceremony; it made real +communication with God impossible; it turned prayer into a +self-magnetizing operation; it left us virtually "without God and hope +in the world." Thanks to Him who never leaves himself without a witness +in the human heart, this theory was often nullified in practice by the +irrepressible instincts which it denied, by the spiritual intuitions +which it ridiculed. Even Professor Norton, its chief champion, had +a heart steeped in the sweetest piety. Denying, intellectually, all +intuitions of God, Duty, and Immortality, his beautiful and tender +hymns show the highest spiritual insight. Still it cannot be denied +that this theory tended to dry up the fountains of religious faith +in the human heart, and to leave us in a merely mechanical and +unspiritualized world. + +Now the first voice which came to break this enchantment was, to many, +the voice of Thomas Carlyle. It needed for this end, it always needs, a +man who could come face to face with Truth. Every great idol-breaker, +every man who has delivered the world from the yoke of Forms, has been +one who was able to see the substance of things, who was gifted with +the insight of realities. Forms of worship, forms of belief, at first +the channels of life, through which the Living Spirit flowed into human +hearts, at last became petrified, incrusted, choked. A few drops of the +vital current still ooze slowly through them, and our parched lips, +sucking these few drops, cling all the more closely to the form as it +becomes less and less a vehicle of life. The poorest word, old and +trite, is precious when there is no open vision. We do well continually +to resort to the half-dead form, "till the day dawn, and the day-star +arise in our hearts." + +But at last there comes a man capable of dispensing with the form,--a +man endowed with a high degree of the intuitive faculty,--a born seer, +a prophet, seeing the great realities of the universe with open vision. +The work of such a man is to break up the old formulas and introduce +new light and life. This work was done for the Orthodox thirty years +ago by the writings of Coleridge; for the Unitarians in this vicinity, +by the writings of Thomas Carlyle. + +This was the secret of the enthusiasm felt for Carlyle, in those +days, by so many of the younger men and women. He taught us to look at +realities instead of names, at substance instead of surface,--to see +God in the world, in nature, in life, in providence, in man,--to see +divine truth and beauty and wonder everywhere around. He taught that +the only organ necessary by which to see the divine in all things was +sincerity, or inward truth. And so he enabled us to escape from the +form into the spirit, he helped us to rise to that plane of freedom +from which we could see the divine in the human, the infinite in the +finite, God in man, heaven on earth, immortality beginning here, +eternity pervading time. This made for us a new heaven and a new earth, +a new religion and a new life. Faith was once more possible, a faith +not bought by the renunciation of mature reason or the beauty and glory +of the present hour. + +But all this was taught us by our new prophet, not by the intellect +merely, but by the spirit in which he spoke. He did not seem to be +giving us a new creed, so much as inspiring us with a new life. That +which came from his experience went into ours. Therefore it might +have been difficult, in those days, for any of his disciples to state +what it was that they had learned from him. They had not learned his +doctrine,--they had absorbed it. Hence, very naturally, came the +imitations of Carlyle, which so disgusted the members of the old +school. Hence the absurd Carlylish writing, the feeble imitations by +honest, but weak disciples of the great master. It was a pity, but not +unnatural, and it soon passed by. + +As Carlyle thus did his work, not so much by direct teaching as by an +influence hidden in all that he said, it did not much matter on what +subject he wrote,--the influence was there still. But his articles +on Goethe were the most attractive, because he asserted that in this +patriarch of German literature he had found one who saw in all things +their real essence, one whose majestic and trained intelligence could +interpret to us in all parts of nature and life the inmost quality, the +_terza essenza_, as the Italian Platonists called it, which made each +itself. Goethe was announced as the prophet of Realism. He, it should +seem, had perfectly escaped from words into things. He saw the world, +not through dogmas, traditions, formulas, but as it was in itself. To +him + + "the world's unwithered countenance + Was fresh as on creation's day." + +Consider the immense charm of such hopes as these! No wonder that the +critics complained that the disciples of Carlyle were "insensible +to ridicule." What did they care for the laughter, which seemed to +them, in their enthusiasm, like "the crackling of thorns under the +pot." Ridicule, in fact, never touches the sincere enthusiast. It is +a good and useful weapon against affectation, but it falls, shivered +to pieces, from the magic breastplate of truth. No sincere person, +at work in a cause which he knows to be important, ever minds being +laughed at. + +But besides his admirable discussions of Goethe, Carlyle's "Life of +Schiller" opened the portals of German literature, and made an epoch in +biography and criticism. It was a new thing to read a biography written +with such enthusiasm,--to find a critic who could really write with +reverence and tender love of the poet whom he criticised. Instead of +taking his seat on the judicial bench, and calling his author up before +him to be judged as a culprit, Carlyle walks with Schiller through the +circles of his poems and plays, as Dante goes with Virgil through the +Inferno and Paradiso. He accepts the great poet as his teacher and +master,[26] a thing unknown before in all criticism. It was supposed +that a biographer would become a mere Boswell if he looked up to his +hero, instead of looking down on him. It was not understood that it was +that "angel of the world," Reverence, which had exalted even a poor, +mean, vain fool, like Boswell, and enabled him to write one of the best +books ever written. It was not his reverence for Johnson which made +Boswell a fool,--his reverence for Johnson made him, a fool, capable of +writing one of the best books of modern times. + +This capacity of reverence in Carlyle--this power of perceiving a +divine, infinite quality in human souls--tinges all his biographical +writing with a deep religious tone. He wrote of Goethe, Schiller, +Richter, Burns, Novalis, even Voltaire, with reverence. He could +see their defects easily enough, he could playfully expose their +weaknesses; but beneath all was the sacred undertone of reverence for +the divine element in each,--for that which God had made and meant them +to be, and which they had realized more or less imperfectly in the +struggle of life. The difference between the reverence of a Carlyle +and that of a Boswell is, that one is blind and the other intelligent. +The one worships his hero down to his shoes and stockings, the other +distinguishes the divine idea from its weak embodiment. + +Two articles from this happy period--that on the "Signs of the Times" +and that called "Characteristics"--indicate some of Carlyle's leading +ideas concerning right thinking and right living. In the first, he +declares the present to be an age of mechanism,--not heroic, devout, +or philosophic. All things are done by machinery. "Men have no faith +in individual endeavor or natural force." "Metaphysics has become +material." Government is a machine. All this he thinks evil. The +living force is in the individual soul,--not mechanic, but dynamic. +Religion is a calculation of expediency, not an impulse of worship; no +thousand-voiced psalm from the heart of man to his invisible Father, +the Fountain of all goodness, beauty, and truth, but a contrivance by +which a small quantum of earthly enjoyment may be exchanged for a much +larger quantum of celestial enjoyment. "Virtue is pleasure, is profit." +"In all senses we worship and follow after power, which may be called a +physical pursuit." (Ah, Carlyle of the Present! does not that wand of +thine old true self touch thee?) "No man now loves truth, as truth must +be loved, with an infinite love; but only with a finite love, and, as +it were, _par amours_." + +In the other article, "Characteristics," printed two years later, in +1831, he unfolds the doctrine of "Unconsciousness" as the sign of +health in soul as well as body. He finds society sick everywhere; he +finds its religion, literature, science, all diseased, yet he ends +the article, as the other was ended, in hope of a change to something +better. + +These two articles may be considered as an introduction to his next +great work, "Sartor Resartus," or the "Clothes-Philosophy." Here, in a +vein of irony and genial humor, he unfolds his doctrine of substance +and form. The object of all thought and all experience is to look +through the clothes to the living beneath them. According to his book, +all human institutions are the clothing of society; language is the +garment of thought, the heavens and earth the time-vesture of the +Eternal. So, too, are religious creeds and ceremonies the clothing +of religion; so are all symbols the vesture of some idea; so are +the crown and sceptre the vesture of government. This book is the +autobiography of a seeker for truth. In it he is led from the shows of +things to their innermost substance, and as in all his other writings, +he teaches here also that sincerity, truthfulness, is the organ by +which we are led to the solid rock of reality, which underlies all +shows and shams. + +II. We now come to treat of Carlyle in his present aspect,--a much +less agreeable task. We leave Carlyle the generous and gentle, for +Carlyle the hard cynic. We leave him, the friend of man, lover of +his race, for another Carlyle, advocate of negro slavery, worshiper +of mere force, sneering at philanthropy, and admiring only tyrants, +despots, and slaveholders. The change, and the steps which led to it, +chronologically and logically, it is our business to scrutinize,--not a +grateful occupation indeed, but possibly instructive and useful. + +Thomas Carlyle, after spending his previous life in Scotland, and from +1827 to 1834 in his solitude at Craigenputtoch, removed to London +in the latter year, when thirty-eight years old. Since then he has +permanently resided in London, in a house situated on one of the quiet +streets running at right angles with the Thames. He came to London +almost an unknown man; he has there become a great name and power +in literature. He has had for friends such men as John Stuart Mill, +Sterling, Maurice, Leigh Hunt, Browning, Thackeray, and Emerson. His +"French Revolution" was published in 1837; "Sartor Resartus" (published +in Frazer in 1833, and in Boston in a volume in 1836) was put forth +collectively in 1838; and in the same year his "Miscellanies" (also +collected and issued in Boston in 1838) were published in London, in +four volumes. "Chartism" was issued in 1839. He gave four courses +of Lectures in Willis's rooms "to a select but crowded audience," +in 1837, 1838, 1839, and 1840. Only the last of these--"Heroes and +Hero-Worship"--was published. "Past and Present" followed in 1843, +"Oliver Cromwell" in 1845. In 1850 he printed "Latter-Day Pamphlets," +and subsequently his "Life of Sterling" (1851), and the four volumes, +now issued, of "Frederick the Great." + +The first evidence of an altered tendency is perhaps to be traced in +the "French Revolution." It is a noble and glorious book; but, as one +of his friendly critics has said, "its philosophy is contemptuous and +mocking, and it depicts the varied and gigantic characters which stalk +across the scene, not so much as responsible and living mortals, as +the mere mechanical implements of some tremendous and irresistible +destiny." In "Heroes and Hero-Worship" the habit has grown of revering +mere will, rather than calm intellectual and moral power. The same +thing is shown in "Past and Present," in "Cromwell," and in "Latter-Day +Pamphlets," which the critic quoted above says is "only remarkable as +a violent imitation of himself, and not of his better self." For the +works of this later period, indeed, the best motto would be that verse +from Daniel: "He shall exalt himself, and magnify himself, and speak +marvelous things; neither shall he regard the God of his fathers, but +in his stead shall he honor the God of Forces, a god whom his fathers +knew not." + +Probably this apostasy from his better faith had begun, before this, +to show itself in conversation. At least Margaret Fuller, in a letter +dated 1846, finds herself in his presence admiring his brilliancy, but +"disclaiming and rejecting almost everything he said." "For a couple of +hours," says she, "he was talking about poetry, and the whole harangue +was one eloquent proclamation of the defects in his own mind." "All +Carlyle's talk, another evening," says she, "was a defence of mere +force,--success the test of right; if people would not behave well, put +collars round their necks; find a hero, and let them be his slaves." +"Mazzini was there, and, after some vain attempts to remonstrate, +became very sad. Mrs. Carlyle said to me, 'These are but opinions to +Carlyle; but to Mazzini, who has given his all, and helped bring his +friends to the scaffold, in pursuit of such subjects, it is a matter of +life and death.'" + +As this mood of Mr. Carlyle comes out so strongly in the "Latter-Day +Pamphlets," it is perhaps best to dwell on them at greater leisure. + +The first is "The Present Time." In this he describes Democracy as +inevitable, but as utterly evil; calls for a government; finds most +European governments, that of England included, to be shams and +falsities,--no-government, or drifting, to be a yet greater evil. The +object, he states, is to find the noblest and best men to govern. +Democracy fails to do this; for universal balloting is not adequate to +the task. Democracy answered in the old republics, when the mass were +slaves, but will not answer now. The United States are no proof of its +success, for (1st) anarchy is avoided merely by the quantity of cheap +land, and (2d) the United States have produced no spiritual results, +but only material. Democracy in America is no-government, and "its only +feat is to have produced eighteen millions of the greatest _bores_ ever +seen in the world." Mr. Carlyle's plan, therefore, is to find, somehow, +the _best man_ for a ruler, to make him a despot, to make the mass of +the English and Irish slaves, to beat them if they will not work, to +shoot them if they still refuse. The only method of finding this best +man, which he suggests, is to _call for him_. Accordingly, Mr. Thomas +Carlyle _calls_, saying, "Best man, come forward, and govern." + +The sum, therefore, of his recipe for the diseases of the times is +SLAVERY. + +The second pamphlet is called "Model Prisons," and the main object of +this is to ridicule all attempts at helping men by philanthropy or +humanity. The talk of "Fraternity" is nonsense, and must be drummed +out of the world. Beginning with model prisons, he finds them much +too good for the "scoundrels" who are shut up there. He would have +them whipped and hung (seventy thousand in a year, we suppose, as in +bluff King Harry's time, with no great benefit therefrom). "Revenge," +he says, "is a right feeling against bad men,--only the excess of it +wrong." The proper thing to say to a bad man is, "Caitiff, I hate +thee." "A collar round the neck, and a cart-whip over the back," is +what he thinks would be more just to criminals than a model prison. The +whole effort of humanity should be to help the industrious and virtuous +poor; the criminals should be swept out of the way, whipt, enslaved, +or hung. As for human brotherhood, he does not admit brotherhood +with "scoundrels." Particularly disgusting to him is it to hear this +philanthropy to bad men called Christianity. Christianity, he thinks, +does not tell us to love the bad, but to hate them as God hates them. +According, probably, to his private expurgated version of the Gospel, +"that ye may be the children of your Father in heaven, whose sun rises +only on the good, and whose rain falls only on the just." + +"Downing Street" and "New Downing Street" are fiery tirades against +the governing classes in England. Mr. Carlyle says (according to his +inevitable refrain), that England does not want a reformed Parliament, +a body of talkers, but a reformed Downing Street, a body of workers. +He describes the utter imbecility of the English government, and calls +loudly for some able man to take its place. Two passages are worth +quoting; the first as to England's aspect in her foreign relations, +which is quite as true for 1864 as for 1854. + +"How it stands with the Foreign Office, again, one still less knows. +Seizures of Sapienza, and the like sudden appearances of Britain in +the character of Hercules-Harlequin, waving, with big bully-voice, +her sword of sharpness over field-mice, and in the air making horrid +circles (horrid Catherine-wheels and death-disks of metallic terror +from said huge sword) to see how they will like it. Hercules-Harlequin, +the Attorney Triumphant, the World's Busybody!" + +Or see the following description of the sort of rulers who prevail in +England, no less than in America:-- + +"If our government is to be a No-Government, what is the matter who +administers it? Fling an orange-skin into St. James Street, let the man +it hits be your man. He, if you bend him a little to it, and tie the +due official bladders to his ankles, will do as well as another this +sublime problem of balancing himself upon the vortexes, with the long +loaded pole in his hand, and will, with straddling, painful gestures, +float hither and thither, walking the waters in that singular manner +for a little while, till he also capsize, and be left floating feet +uppermost,--after which you choose another." + +Concerning which we may say, that if this is the result of monarchy and +aristocracy in England, we can stick a little longer to our democracy +in America. Mr. Carlyle says that the object of all these methods is to +find the ablest man for a ruler. He thinks our republican method very +insufficient and absurd,--much preferring the English system,--and then +tells us that this is the outcome of the latter; that you might as well +select your ruler by throwing an orange-skin into the street as by the +method followed in England. + +Despotism, tempered by assassination, seems to be Carlyle's notion of a +good government. + +The pamphlet "Stump-Orator" is simply a bitter denunciation of all +talking, speech-making, and writing, as the curse of the time, and ends +with the proposition to cut out the tongues of one whole generation, as +an act of mercy to them and a blessing to the human race. + +Thus this collection of "Latter-Day Pamphlets" consists of the +bitterest cynicism. Carlyle sits in it, as in a tub, snarling at +freedom, yelping at philanthropy, growling at the English government, +snapping at all men who speak or write, and ending with one long howl +over the universal falsity and hollowness of mankind in general. + +After which he proceeds to his final apotheosis of despotism pure and +simple, in this "Life of Frederick the Great." Of this it is not +necessary to say more than that Frederick, being an absolute despot, +but a very able one, having plunged Europe into war in order to steal +Silesia, is everywhere admired, justified, or excused by Carlyle, who +reserves his rebukes and contempt for those who find fault with all +this. + +That, with these opinions, Carlyle should have taken sides with the +slaveholders' conspiracy against the Union is not surprising. His +sympathies were with them; first, as slaveholders, secondly, as +aristocrats. He hates us because we are democrats, and he loves them +because they are despots and tyrants. Long before the outbreak of the +rebellion, he had ridiculed emancipation, and denounced as folly and +evil the noblest deed of England,--the emancipation of her West India +slaves. In scornful, bitter satire, he denounced England for keeping +the fast which God had chosen, in undoing the heavy burdens, letting +the oppressed go free, and breaking every yoke. He ridiculed the black +man, and described the poor patient African as "Quashee, steeped to +the eyes in pumpkin." In the hateful service of oppression he had +already done his best to uphold slavery and discourage freedom. And +while he fully believed in enslaving the laboring population, black or +white, and driving it to work by the cart-whip, he as fully abhorred +republicanism everywhere, and most of all in the United States. +He had exhausted the resources of language in vilifying American +institutions. It was a matter of course, therefore, that at the +outbreak of this civil war all his sympathies should be with those who +whip women and sell babies. + +How is it that this great change should have taken place? Men +change,--but not often in this way. The ardent reformer often hardens +into the stiff conservative. The radical in religion is very likely to +join the Catholic Church. If a Catholic changes his religion, he goes +over to atheism. To swing from one extreme to another, is a common +experience. But it is a new thing to see calmness in youth, violence in +age,--to find the young man wise and all-sided, the old man bigoted and +narrow. + +We think the explanation to be this. + +Thomas Carlyle from the beginning has not shown the least appreciation +of the essential thing in Christianity. Brought up in Scotland, +inheriting from Calvinism a sense of truth, a love of justice, and a +reverence for the Jewish Bible, he has never passed out of Judaism +into Christianity. To him, Oliver Cromwell is the best type of true +religion; inflexible justice the best attribute of God or man. He is +a worshiper of Jehovah, not of the God and Father of the Lord Jesus +Christ. He sees in God truth and justice; he does not see in him +love. He is himself a prophet after the type of Elijah and John the +Baptist. He is the voice crying in the wilderness; and we may say of +him, therefore, as was said of his prototype, "He was a burning and a +shining light, and ye were willing, for a season, to rejoice in his +light,"--but not always,--not now. + +Carlyle does not, indeed, claim to be a Jew, or to reject Christ. On +the contrary, he speaks of him with very sincere respect. He seems, +however, to know nothing of him but what he has read in Goethe about +the "worship of sorrow." The Gospel appears to him to be, essentially, +a worship of sorrow. That Christ "came to save sinners,"--of that +Carlyle has not the faintest idea. To him the notion of "saving +sinners" is only "rose-water philanthropy." He does not wish them +saved, he wishes them damned,--swept into hell as soon as convenient. + +But, as everything which is real has two sides, that of _truth_ and +that of _love_,--it usually happens that he who only sees _one_ side at +last ceases even to see that. All goodness, to Carlyle, is truth,--in +man it is sincerity, or love of reality, sight of the actual facts,--in +God it is justice, divine adherence to law, infinite guidance of the +world and of every human soul according to a strict and inevitable +rule of righteousness. At first this seems to be a providence,--and +Carlyle has everywhere, in the earlier epoch, shown full confidence in +Providence. But believe only in justice and truth,--omit the doctrine +of forgiveness, redemption, salvation,--and faith in Providence +becomes sooner or later a despairing fatalism. The dark problem of evil +remains insoluble without the doctrine of redemption. + +So it was that Carlyle, seeing at first the chief duty of man to be +the worship of reality, the love of truth, next made that virtue to +consist in sincerity, or being in earnest. Truth was being true to +one's self. In this lay the essence of heroism. So that Burns, being +sincere and earnest, was a hero,--Odin was a hero,--Mohammed was a +hero,--Cromwell was a hero,--Mirabeau and Danton were heroes,--and +Frederick the Great was a hero. That which was first the love of truth, +and caused him to reverence the calm intellectual force of Schiller and +Goethe, soon became earnestness and sincerity, and then became power. +For the proof of earnestness is power. So from power, by eliminating +all love, all tenderness, as being only rose-water philanthropy, he at +last became a worshiper of mere will, of force in its grossest form. +So he illustrates those lines of Shakespeare in which this process is +so well described. In "Troilus and Cressida" Ulysses is insisting on +the importance of keeping everything in its place, and giving to the +best things and persons their due priority. Otherwise, mere force will +govern all things. + + "Strength would be lord of imbecility,"-- + +as Carlyle indeed openly declares that it ought to be,-- + + "And the rude son should strike his father dead," + +which Carlyle does not quite approve of in the case of Dr. Francia. But +why not, if he maintains that strength is the measure of justice? + + "Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong + (Between whose endless jar justice resides) + Should lose their names and so should justice, too. + _Then everything includes itself in power, + Power into will, will into appetite; + And appetite, an universal wolf, + So doubly seconded with will and power, + Must make perforce an universal prey, + And, last, eat up himself._" + +Just so, in the progress of Carlyle's literary career, first, force +became right,--then, everything included itself in power,--next, power +was lost in will, and will in mere caprice or appetite. From his +admiration for Goethe, as the type of intellectual power, he passed to +the praise of Cromwell as the exponent of will, and then to that of +Frederick, whose appetite for plunder and territory was seconded by +an iron will and the highest power of intellect; but whose ambition +devoured himself, his country, and its prosperity, in the mad pursuit +of victory and conquest. + +The explanation, therefore, of our author's lapse, is simply this, that +he worshiped truth divorced from love, and so ceased to worship truth, +and fell into the idolatry of mere will. Truth without love is not +truth, but hard, willful opinion, just as love without truth is not +love, but weak good-nature and soft concession. + +Carlyle has no idea of that sublime feature of Christianity, which +shows to us God caring more for the one sinner who repents than the +ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance. To him one just +person deserves more care than ninety-nine sinners. Yet it is strange +that he did not learn from his master, Goethe, this essential trait +of the Gospel. For Goethe, in a work translated by Carlyle himself, +distinguishes between the three religions thus. The ethnic or Gentile +religions, he says, reverence _what is above us_,--the religion of the +philosopher reverences _what is on our own level_,--but Christianity +reverences _what is beneath us_. "This is the last step," says Goethe, +"which mankind were destined to attain,--to recognize humility +and poverty, mockery and despite, disgrace and wretchedness, as +divine,--nay, _even on sin and crime to look not as hindrances, but to +honor and love them as furtherances of what is holy_." + +On sin and crime, as we have seen, Carlyle looks with no such +tenderness. But if he does not care for the words of Christ, teaching +us that we must forgive if we hope to be forgiven, if he does not care +for the words of his master, Goethe, he might at least remember his own +exposition of this doctrine in an early work, where he shows that the +poor left to perish by disease infect a whole community, and declares +that the safety of all is involved in the safety of the humblest. + +In 1840, when he wrote "Chartism," Carlyle seems to have known better +than he did in 1855, when he wrote these "Latter-Day Pamphlets." _Then_ +he said:-- + +"To believe practically that the poor and luckless are here only as a +nuisance to be abraded and abated, and in some permissible manner made +away, and swept out of sight, is not an amiable faith." + +Of Ireland, too, he said:-- + +"We English pay, even now, the bitter smart of long centuries of +injustice to Ireland." "It is the feeling of _injustice_ that is +insupportable to all men. The brutalest black African feels it, and +cannot bear that he should be used unjustly. No man can bear it, or +ought to bear it." + +This seems like the "rose-water philanthropy" which he subsequently so +much disliked. In this book also he speaks of a "seven years' Silesian +robber-war,"--we trust not intending to call his beloved Frederick a +robber! And again he proposes, as one of the best things to be done +in England, to have all the people taught by government to read and +write,--the same thing which this American democracy, in which he could +see not one good thing, has so long been doing. That was the plan by +which England was to be saved,--a plan first suggested in England in +1840,--adopted and acted on in America for two hundred years. + +But just as love separated from truth becomes cruelty, so _truth_ +by itself--truth _not_ tempered and fulfilled by love--runs sooner +or later into falsehood. _Truth_, after a while, becomes dogmatism, +overbearing assertion, willful refusal to see and hear other than one's +own belief; that is to say, it becomes falsehood. Such has been the +case with our author. On all the subjects to which he has committed +himself he closes his eyes, and refuses to see the other side. Like his +own symbol, the mighty Bull, he makes his charge _with his eyes shut_. + +Determined, for example, to rehabilitate such men as Mirabeau, +Cromwell, Frederick, and Frederick's father, he does thorough work, and +defends or excuses all their enormities, palliating whenever he cannot +justify. + +What can we call this which he says[27] concerning the execution of +Lieutenant Katte, by order of old King Friedrich Wilhelm? Tired of +the tyranny of his father, tired of being kicked and caned, the young +prince tried to escape. He was caught and held as a deserter from the +army, and his father tried to run him through the body. Lieutenant +Katte, who had aided him in getting away, having been kicked and caned, +was sent to a court-martial to be tried. The court-martial found him +guilty not of deserting, but of intending to desert, and sentenced +him to two years' imprisonment. Whereupon the king went into a rage, +declared that Katte had committed high treason, and ordered him to be +executed. Whereupon Carlyle thus writes:-- + +"'Never was such a transaction before or since in modern history,' +cries the angry reader; 'cruel, like the grinding of human hearts under +millstones; like----' Or, indeed, like the doings of the gods, which +are cruel, but not that alone." + +In other words, Carlyle cannot make up his mind frankly to condemn +this atrocious murder, and call it by its right name. He must needs +try to sophisticate us by talking about "the doings of the gods." +Because Divine Providence takes men out of the world in various ways, +it is therefore allowable to a king, provided he be a hero grim enough +and "earnest" enough, to kick men, cane them, and run them through +the body when he pleases; and, after having sent a man to be tried by +court-martial, if the court acquits him, to order him to be executed by +his own despotic will. A truth-telling Carlyle ought to have said, "I +admit this is murder; but I like the old fellow, and so I will call it +right." A Carlyle grown sophistical mumbles something about its being +like "the doings of the gods," and leaves off with that small attempt +at humbug. Be brave, my men, and defend my Lord Jeffreys next for +bullying juries into hanging prisoners. Was not Jeffreys "grim" too? +In fact, are not most murderers "grim"? + +We have had occasion formerly, in this journal, to examine the writings +of another very positive and clear-headed thinker,--Mr. Henry James. +Mr. James is, in his philosophy, the very antithesis of Carlyle. +With equal fervor of thought, with a like vehemence of style, with a +somewhat similar contempt for his opponents, Mr. James takes exactly +the opposite view of religion and duty. As Carlyle preaches the law, +and the law alone, maintaining justice as the sole Divine attribute, so +Mr. James preaches the Gospel only, denying totally that to the Divine +Mind any distinction exists between saint and sinner, unless that the +sinner is somewhat more of a favorite than the saint. We did not, do +not, agree with Mr. James in his anti-nomianism; as between him and +Carlyle, we think his doctrine far the truer and nobler. He stands on +a higher plane, and sees much the farther. A course of reading in Mr. +James's books might, we think, help our English cynic not a little. + +God is the perfect harmony of justice and love. His justice is warmed +through and through with love, his love is sanctified and made strong +by justice. And so, in Christ, perfect justice was fulfilled in perfect +love. But in him first was fully revealed, in this world, the Divine +fatherly tenderness to the lost, to the sinner, to those lowest down +and farthest away. In him was taught that our own redemption from +evil does not lie in despising and hating men worse than ourselves, +but in saving them. The hard Pharisaic justice of Carlyle may call +this "rose-water philanthropy," but till he accepts it from his heart, +and repents of his contempt for his fallen fellowmen, till he learns +to love "scoundrels," there is no hope for him. He lived once in the +heaven of reverence, faith, and love; he has gone from it into the hell +of Pharisaic scorn and contempt. Till he comes back out of that, there +is no hope for him. + +But such a noble nature cannot be thus lost. He will one day, let us +trust, worship the divine love which he now abhors. Cromwell asked, on +his death-bed, "if those once in a state of grace could fall," and, +being assured not, said, "I am safe then, for I am sure I was once in a +state of grace." There is a truth in this doctrine of the perseverance +of saints. Some truths once fully seen, even though afterward rejected +by the mind and will, stick like a barbed arrow in the conscience, +tormenting the soul till they are again accepted and obeyed. Such a +truth Carlyle once saw, in the great doctrine of reverence for the +fallen and the sinful. He will see it again, if not in this world, then +in some other world. + +The first Carlyle was an enthusiast, the last Carlyle is a cynic. From +enthusiasm to cynicism, from the spirit of reverence to the spirit +of contempt, the way seems long, but the condition of arriving is +simple. Discard LOVE, and the whole road is passed over. Divorce love +from truth, and truth ceases to be open and receptive,--ceases to be a +positive function, turns into acrid criticism, bitter disdain, cruel +and hollow laughter, empty of all inward peace. Such is the road which +Carlyle has passed over, from his earnest, hopeful youth to his bitter +old age. + +Carlyle fulfilled for many, during these years, the noble work of a +mediator. By reverence and love he saw what was divine in nature, in +man, and in life. By the profound sincerity of his heart, his worship +of reality, his hatred of falsehood, he escaped from the commonplaces +of literature to a better land of insight and knowledge. So he was +enabled to lead many others out of their entanglements, into his own +luminous insight. It was a great and blessed work. Would that it had +been sufficient for him! + + + + +BUCKLE AND HIS THEORY OF AVERAGES[28] + + +We welcomed kindly the first installment of Mr. Buckle's work,[29] +giving a cursory account of it, and hinting, rather than urging, +the objections which readily suggested themselves against theories +concerning Man, History, Civilization, and Human Progress. But now +it seems a proper time to discuss with a little more deliberation +the themes opened before us by this intrepid writer,--this latest +champion of that theory of the mind which in the last century was +called Materialism and Necessity, and which in the present has been +re-baptized as Positivism. + +The doctrines of which Mr. Buckle is the ardent advocate seem to us, +the more thoroughly we consider them, to be essentially theoretical, +superficial, and narrow. They are destitute of any broad basis of +reality. In their application by Mr. Buckle, they fail to solve +the historic problems upon which he tries their power. With a show +of science, they are unscientific, being a mere collection of +unverified hypotheses. And if Mr. Buckle should succeed in introducing +his principles and methods into the study of history, it would +be equivalent to putting backward for about a century this whole +department of thought. + +Yet, while we state this as our opinion, and one which we shall +presently endeavor to substantiate by ample proof, we do not deny to +Mr. Buckle's volumes the interest arising from vigorous and independent +thinking, faithful study of details, and a strong, believing purpose. +They are interesting and valuable contributions to our literature. +But this is not on account of their purpose, but in spite of it; +notwithstanding their doctrines, not because of them. The interest +of these books, as of all good history, derives itself from their +picturesque reproduction of life. Whatever of value belongs to Mr. +Buckle's work is the same as that of the writings of Macaulay, Motley, +and Carlyle. Whoever has the power of plunging like a diver into the +spirit of another period, sympathizing with its tone, imbuing himself +with its instincts, sharing its loves and hates, its faith and its +skepticism, will write its history so as to interest us. For whoever +will really show to us the breathing essence of any age, any state of +society, or any course of human events, cannot fail of exciting that +element of the soul which causes man everywhere to rejoice in meeting +with man. He who will write the history of Arabians, Kelts, or Chinese, +of the Middle Ages, the Norman Sea-kings, or the Roman Plebs, so +that we can see ourselves beneath these diverse surroundings of race, +country, and period, and see that these also are really MEN,--this +writer instantly awakens our interest, whether he call himself poet, +novelist, or historian. In all cases, the secret of success is to write +so as to enable the reader to identify himself with the characters +of another age. Great authors enable us to look at actions, not +from without, but from within. When we read the historic plays of +Shakespeare, or the historic novels of Scott, we are charmed by finding +that kings and queens are, after all, our poor human fellow-creatures, +sharing all our old, familiar struggles, pains, and joys. When we read +that great historic masterpiece, the "French Revolution" of Carlyle, +the magic touch of the artist introduces us into the heart of every +character in the motley, shifting scene. We are the poor king escaping +to Varennes under the dewy night and solemn stars. We are tumultuous +Mirabeau, with his demonic but generous soul. We are devoted Charlotte +Corday; we are the Gironde; we the poor prisoners of Terror, waiting in +our prison for the slow morning to bring the inevitable doom. This is +the one indispensable faculty for the historian; and this faculty Mr. +Buckle so far possesses as to make his page a living one. It is true +that his sympathy is intellectual rather than imaginative. It is not of +the high order of Shakespeare, nor even of that of Carlyle. But, so +far as it goes, it is a true faculty, and makes a true historian. + +Yet we cannot but notice how the effectual working of this historic +organ is interfered with by the dogmatic purpose of Mr. Buckle; and, +on the other hand, how his theoretic aim is disturbed by the interest +of his narrative. His history is always meant to be an argument. His +narrations of events are never for their own sake, but always to +prove some thesis. There is, therefore, no consecutive narrative, no +progress of events, no sustained interest. These volumes are episodes, +put together we cannot well say how, or why. In the seventh chapter +of the first volume we have a graphic description of the Court life +in England in the days of Charles II., James II., William, and the +Georges, in connection with the condition of the Church and clergy. +From this we are taken, in the next chapter, to France, and to similar +relations between Henry IV., Louis XIII., Richelieu, and the French +Catholics and Protestants. We then are brought back to England, to +consider the protective system there; and once more we return to +France, to investigate its operation in that country. Afterward we have +an essay on "The State of Historical Literature in France from the +End of the Sixteenth to the End of the Eighteenth Century," followed +by another essay on the "Proximate Causes of the French Revolution." +Many very well finished biographic portraits are given us in these +chapters. There are excellent sketches of Burke, Voltaire, Richelieu, +Bossuet, Montesquieu, Rousseau, Bichat, in the first volume; and of +Adam Smith, Reid, Black, Leslie, Hutton, Cullen, Hunter, in the second. +These numerous biographic sketches, which are often accompanied with +good literary notices of the writings of these authors, are very ably +written; but it is curious to remember, while reading them, that Mr. +Buckle thinks that, as history advances, it has less and less to do +with biography. + +There is an incurable defect in the method of this work. On the one +hand, the dogmatic purpose is constantly breaking into the interest +of the narration; on the other, the interest of the narration is +continually enticing the writer from his argument into endless episodes +and details of biography. The argument is deprived of its force by the +story; the story is interrupted continually on account of the argument. +Mr. Buckle has mistaken the philosophy of history for history itself. +A history of civilization is not a piece of metaphysical argument, but +a consecutive account of the social progress either of an age or of a +nation. This irreconcilable conflict of purpose, while it leaves to the +parts of the work their value, destroys its worth as a whole. + +Mr. Buckle might probably inquire whether we would eliminate wholly +from history all philosophic aim, all teleologic purpose. He objects, +and very properly, to degrading history into mere annals, without any +instructive purpose. We agree with him. We do not admire the style +of history which feels neither passion nor sympathy, which narrates +crimes without indignation, and which has no aim in its narration +except to entertain a passing hour. But it is one thing deliberately +to announce a thesis and bring detached passages of history to prove +it, and another to write a history which, by its incidents, spirit, +and characters shall convey impulse and instruction. The historian +may dwell upon the events which illustrate his convictions, and may +develop the argument during the progress of his moving panorama; but +the history itself, as it moves, should impress the lesson. The history +of Mr. Motley, for example, illustrates and impresses the evils of +bigotry, superstition, and persecution on the life of nations, quite as +powerfully as does that of Mr. Buckle; but Mr. Motley never suspends +his narrative in order to prove to us logically that persecution is an +evil. + +Mr. Buckle, in his style of writing, belongs to a modern class of +authors whom we may call the bullying school. It is true that he is far +less extravagant than some of them, and indeed is not deeply tinged +with their peculiar manner. The first great master of this class of +writers is Thomas Carlyle; but their peculiarity has been carried to +its greatest extent by Ruskin. Its characteristic feature is treating +with supreme contempt, as though they were hopeless imbeciles, all who +venture to question the _dicta_ of the writer. This superb arrogance +makes these writers rather popular with the English, who, as a nation, +like equally well to bully and to be bullied. + +Buckle professes to have at last found the only true key to history, +and to have discovered some of its important laws, especially those +which regard the progress of civilization. + +I. _His View of Freedom._--Mr. Buckle's fundamental position is, that +the actions of men are governed by fixed laws, and that, when these +laws are discovered, history will become a science, like geometry, +geology, or astronomy. The chief obstacle hitherto to its becoming a +science has been the belief that the actions of men were determined, +not by fixed laws, but by free will (which he considers equivalent +to chance), or by supernatural interference or providence (which he +regards as equivalent to fate). "We shall thus be led," he says (Vol. +I. p. 6, Am. ed.), "to one vast question, which, indeed, lies at the +root of the whole subject, and is simply this: Are the actions of men, +and therefore of societies, governed by fixed laws, or are they the +result either of chance or of supernatural interference?" Identifying +freedom with chance, Mr. Buckle denies that there is such a thing, and +maintains that every human action is determined by some antecedent, +inward or outward, and that not one is determined by the free choice +of the man himself. His principal argument against free will is the law +of averages, which we will therefore proceed to consider in its bearing +on this point. + +Statistics, carefully collected during many years and within different +countries, show a regularity of return in certain vices and crimes, +which indicates the presence of law. Thus, about the same number of +murders are committed every year in certain countries and large cities, +and even the instruments by which they are committed are employed in +the same proportion. Suicide also follows some regular law. "In a +given state of society, a certain number of persons must put an end to +their own life." In London, about two hundred and forty persons kill +themselves every year,--in years of panic and disaster a few more, in +prosperous years not quite so many. Other actions of men are determined +in the same way,--not by personal volition, but by some controlling +circumstance. "It is now known that the number of marriages in England +bears a fixed and definite relation to the price of corn." "Aberrations +of memory are marked by this general character of necessary and +invariable order." The same average number of persons forget every +year to direct the letters dropped into the post-offices of London and +Paris. Facts of this kind "force us to the conclusion," says Buckle, +"that the offenses of men are the result, not so much of the vices of +the individual offender, as of the state of society into which he is +thrown." + +The argument then is: If man's moral actions are under law, they are +not free, for freedom is the absence of law. The argument of Mr. Buckle +is conclusive, provided freedom does necessarily imply the absence of +law. But such, we think, is not the fact. + +The actions of man do not proceed solely from the impact of external +circumstances; for then he would be no better than a ball struck with a +bat. Nor do they proceed solely from the impulses of his animal nature; +for then he would be only a superior kind of machine, moved by springs +and wheels. But in addition to external and internal impulse there is +also in man the power of personal effort, activity, will,--to which we +give the name of Free Choice, or Freedom. This modifies and determines +a part of his actions,--while a second part come from the influence +of circumstance, and a third from organic instincts and habitual +tendencies. + +Now, it is quite certain that no man has freedom of will enough to +cause _his whole_ nexus of activity to proceed from it. For if a man +could cause _all_ his actions to proceed by a mere choice or effort, +he could turn himself at will into another man. In other words, there +could be no such thing as permanent moral character. No one could be +described; for while we were describing him, he might choose to be +different, and so would become somebody else. It is evident, therefore, +that some part of every man's life must lie outside of the domain of +freedom. + +In what, then, does the essence of freedom consist? If it be not the +freedom to do whatever we choose, what is it? Plainly, if we analyze +our own experience, we shall find that it is simply what its scholastic +name implies, freedom of choice, or _liber arbitrio_. It is not, in the +last analysis, freedom to act, but it is freedom to choose. + +But freedom to choose what? Can we choose anything? Certainly not. Our +freedom of choice is limited by our knowledge. We cannot choose that +which we do not know. We must choose something within the range of our +experience. And our freedom of choice consists in the alternative of +making this choice or omitting to make it,--exerting ourselves or not +exerting ourselves. Consciousness testifies universally to this extent +of freedom. We know by our consciousness that we can exert ourselves or +not exert ourselves at any moment,--exert ourselves to act or not exert +ourselves to act, to speak or not to speak. This power of making or not +making an effort is freedom in its simplest and lowest form. + +In this lowest form, it is apparent that human freedom is inadequate to +give any permanent character to human actions. They will be directed by +the laws of organization and circumstance. Freedom in this sense may +be compared to the power which a man has of rowing a boat in the midst +of a fog. He may exert himself to row, he may row at any moment forward +or backward, to the right or to the left. He has this freedom,--but it +does not enable him to go in any special direction. Not being able to +direct his boat to any fixed aim, it is certain that it will be drifted +by the currents or blown by the winds. Freedom in this form is only +willfulness, because devoid of an inward law. + +But let the will direct itself by a fixed law, and it at once becomes +true freedom, and begins to impress itself upon actions, modifying the +results of organization and circumstance. Not even in this case can +it destroy those results; it only modifies them. It enters as a third +factor with those other two to produce the product. The total character +of a man's actions will be represented by a formula, thus: John's +Organization × John's Circumstances × John's Freedom = John's Character. + +Apply this to the state of society where the law of averages has been +discovered. In such a society there are always to be found three +classes of persons. In the first class, freedom is either dormant or +is mere willfulness. The law of mind is subject therefore in these to +the law of the members. The will is an enslaved will, and its influence +on action is a nullity, not needing to be taken into the account. From +this class come the largest proportion of the crimes and vices, regular +in number because resulting from constant conditions of society. Of +these persons we can predict with certainty that, under certain strong +temptations to evil, they will inevitably yield. + +But in another class of persons the will has learned to direct itself +by a moral law toward a fixed aim. The man in the boat is now steering +by a compass, and ceases to be the sport of current and gale. The will +reacts upon organization, and directs circumstance. The man has learned +how to master his own nature, and how to arrange external conditions. +We can predict with certainty that under no possible influences will +this class yield to some forms of evil. + +There is also in each community a third class, who are struggling, but +not emancipated. They are partly free, but not wholly so. From this +class come the slight variations of the average, now a little better, +now a little worse. + +Applying this view of the freedom of the will to history, we see that +the problem is far more complicated than Mr. Buckle admits. Man's +freedom, with him, is an element not to be taken into consideration, +because it does not exist. But the truth is, that human freedom is +not only a factor, but a variable factor, the value of which changes +with every variety of human condition. In the savage condition it +obeys organization and circumstances, and has little effect on social +condition. But as civilization advances, the power of freedom to +react on organization and circumstance increases, varying however +again, according to the force and inspiration of the ideas by which it +is guided. And of all these ideas, precisely those which Mr. Buckle +underrates, namely, moral and religious ideas, are those which most +completely emancipate the will from circumstances, and vitalize it with +an all-conquering force. + +To see this, take two extreme cases,--that of an African Hottentot, and +that of Joan of Arc. Free will in the African is powerless; he remains +the helpless child of his situation. But the Maid of Arc, though +utterly destitute of Mr. Buckle's "Intellectual Truths" (being unable +to read or write, and having received no instruction save religious +ideas), and wanting in the "Skepticism" which he thinks so essential to +all historic progress, yet develops a power of will which reacts upon +circumstances so as to turn into another channel the current of French +history. All bonds of situation and circumstance are swept asunder +by the power of a will set free by mighty religious convictions. +The element of freedom, therefore, is one not to be neglected by an +historian, except to his own loss. + +The law of averages applies only to undeveloped men, or to the +undeveloped sides of human nature, where the element of freedom has not +come in play. When the human race shall have made such progress that it +shall contain a city inhabited by a million persons all equal to the +Apostle Paul and the Apostle John in spiritual development, it will +not be found that a certain regular number kill their wives every year, +or that from two hundred and thirteen to two hundred and forty annually +commit suicide. Nor will this escape from the averages be owing to an +increased acquaintance with physical laws so much as to a higher moral +development. We shall return to this point, however, when we examine +more fully Buckle's doctrine in regard to the small influence of +religion on civilization. + +II. _Mr. Buckle's View of Organization._--Mr. Buckle sets aside +entirely the whole great fact of organization, upon which the science +of ethnology is based. Perhaps the narrowness of his mind shows more +conspicuously in this than elsewhere. He attributes no influence to +race in civilization. While so many eminent writers at the present +day say, with Mr. Knox, that "Race is everything," Mr. Buckle quietly +rejoins that Race is nothing. "Original distinctions of race," he +says, "are altogether hypothetical." "We have no decisive ground for +saying that the moral and intellectual faculties in man are likely to +be greater in an infant born in the most civilized part of Europe, +than in one born in the wildest region of a barbarous country." (Vol. +I. p. 127, Am. ed.) "We often hear of hereditary talents, hereditary +vices, and hereditary virtues; but whoever will critically examine +the evidence will find that we have no proof of their existence." He +doubts the existence of hereditary insanity, or a hereditary tendency +to suicide, or even to disease. (Vol. I. p. 128, note.) He does not +believe in any progress of natural capacity in man, but only of +opportunity, "that is, an improvement in the circumstances under which +that capacity after birth comes into play." "Here then is the gist of +the whole matter. The progress is one, not of internal power, but of +external advantage." He goes on to say, in so many words, that the only +difference between a barbarian child and a civilized child is in the +pressure of surrounding circumstances. In support of these opinions he +quotes Locke and Turgot. + +It is difficult to understand how an intelligent and well-informed man, +an immense reader and active thinker, can have lived in the midst of +the nineteenth century and retain these views. For students at every +extreme of thought have equally recognized the force of organization, +the constancy of race, the permanent varieties existing in the human +family, the steady ruling of the laws of descent. If there is any one +part of the science of anthropology in which the nineteenth century has +reversed the judgment of the eighteenth,--and that equally among men of +science, poets, materialists, idealists, anatomists, philologists,--it +is just here. To find so intelligent a man reproducing the last century +in the midst of the present is a little extraordinary. + +Perhaps there could not be found four great thinkers more different in +their tendencies of thought and range of study than Goethe, Spurzheim, +Dr. Prichard, and Max Müller; yet these four, each by his own method of +observation, have shown with conclusive force the law of variety and +of permanence in organization. Goethe asserts that every individual +man carries from his birth to his grave an unalterable speciality of +being,--that he is, down to the smallest fibre of his character, one +and the same man; and that the whole mighty power of circumstance, +modifying everything, cannot abolish anything,--that organization and +circumstance hold on together with an equally permanent influence in +every human life. Gall and Spurzheim teach that every fibre of the +brain has its original quality and force, and that such qualities +and forces are transmitted by obscure but certain laws of descent. +Prichard, with immense learning, describes race after race, giving +the types of each human family in its physiology. And, finally, the +great science of comparative philology, worked out by such thinkers +and students as Bopp, Latham, Humboldt, Bunsen, Max Müller, and a +host of others, has proved the permanence of human varieties by ample +glossological evidence. Thus the modern science of ethnology has +arisen, on the basis of physiology, philology, and ethology, and is +perhaps the chief discovery of the age. Yet Mr. Buckle quietly ignores +the whole of it, and continues, with Locke, to regard every human mind +as a piece of white paper, to be written on by external events,--a +piece of soft putty, to be moulded by circumstances. + +The facts on which the science of ethnology rests are so numerous and +so striking, that the only difficulty in selecting an illustration +is from the quantity and richness of material. But we may take two +instances,--that of the Teutons and Kelts, to show the permanence +of differences under the same circumstances, and that of the Jews, +the Arabs, and the Gypsies, to show the continuity of identity under +different circumstances. For if it can be made evident that different +races of men preserve different characters, though living for long +periods under similar circumstances, and that the same race preserves +the same character, though living for long periods under different +circumstances, the proof is conclusive that character is _not_ derived +from circumstances only. We shall not indeed go to the extreme of +such ethnologists as Knox, Nott, or Gliddon, and say that "Race is +everything, and circumstances nothing," but we shall see that Mr. +Buckle is mistaken in saying that "Circumstances are everything, and +race nothing." + +The differences of character between the German and Keltic varieties +of the human race are marked, but not extreme. They both belong to +the same great Indo-European or Aryan family. They both originated +in Asia, and the German emigration seems to have followed immediately +after that of the Kelts. Yet when described by Cæsar, Tacitus, and +Strabo, they differed from each other exactly as they differ now. They +have lived for some two thousand years in the same climate, under +similar political and social institutions, and yet they have preserved +their original diversity. + +According to the description of Cæsar[30] and Tacitus[31] the German +tribes differed essentially from the Gauls or Kelts in the following +particulars. The Germans loved freedom, and were all free. The Kelts +did not care for freedom. The meanest German was free. But all the +inferior people among the Kelts were virtually slaves. The Germans had +no priests, and did not care for sacrifices. The Kelts had a powerful +priesthood and imposing religious rites. The Germans were remarkable +for their blue eyes, light hair, and large limbs. The Kelts were +dark-complexioned. The Gauls were more quick, but less persevering, +than the Germans. Ready to attack, they were soon discouraged. +Tacitus, describing the Germans, says: "They are a pure, unmixed, and +independent race; there is a family likeness through the nation, the +same form and features, stern blue eyes, ruddy hair; a strong sense +of honor; reverence for women; religious, but without a ritual; +superstitiously believing in supernatural signs and portents, but +not in a priesthood; not living in cities, but in scattered homes; +respecting marriage; the children brought up in the dirt, among the +cattle; hospitable, frank, and generous; fond of drinking beer, and +eating preparations of milk." + +The German and Keltic races, thus distinguished in the days of Cæsar, +are equally distinct to-day. Catholicism, the religion of a priesthood, +a ritual, and authority, prevails among the Kelts; Protestantism among +the Germans. Ireland, being mainly Keltic, is Catholic, though a part +of a Protestant nation. France, being mainly Keltic, is also Catholic, +in spite of all its illumination, its science, and its knowledge of +"intellectual laws." But as France contains a large infusion of German +(Frankish) blood, it is the most Protestant of Catholic nations; while +Scotland, containing the largest infusion of Keltic blood, is the +most priest-ridden of Protestant nations. This last fact, which Mr. +Buckle asserts, and spends half a volume in trying to account for, +is explained at once by ethnology. Wherever the Germans go to-day, +they remain the same people they were in the days of Tacitus; they +carry the same blue eyes and light hair, the same love of freedom and +hatred of slavery, the same tendencies to individualism in thought +and life, the same tendency to superstitious belief in supernatural +events, even when without belief in any religion or church; and even +the same love for beer, and "lac concretum," now called "schmeercase" +in our Western settlements. The Kelt, also, everywhere continues the +same. He loves equality more than freedom. He is a democrat, but not +an abolitionist. Very social, clannish, with more wit than logic, very +sensitive to praise, brave, but not determined, needing a leader, he +carries the spirit of the Catholic Church into Protestantism, and the +spirit of despotism into free institutions. And that physical, no less +than mental qualities, continue under all climates and institutions is +illustrated by the blue eyes and light hair which the traveller meets +among the Genoese and Florentines, reminding him of their Lombard +ancestors; while their superior tendencies to freedom in church and +state suggest the same origin. + +Nineteen hundred years have passed since Julius Cæsar pointed out +these diversities of character then existing between the Germans and +Kelts. Since then they have passed from barbarism to civilization. +Instead of living in forests, as hunters and herdsmen, they have built +cities, engaged in commerce, manufactures, and agriculture. They have +been converted to Christianity, have conquered the Roman empire, +engaged in crusades, fought in a hundred different wars, developed +literatures, arts, and sciences, changed and changed again their forms +of government, have been organized by Feudalism, by Despotism, by +Democracy, have gone through the Protestant reformation, have emigrated +to all countries and climates; and yet, at the end of this long period, +the German everywhere remains a German, and the Kelt a Kelt. The +descriptions of Tacitus and Cæsar still describe them accurately. And +yet Mr. Buckle undertakes to write a history of civilization without +taking the element of race into account. + +Perhaps, however, the power of this element of race is illustrated +still more strikingly in the case of the wandering and dispersed +families, who, having ceased to be a nation, continue in their +dispersions to manifest the permanent type of their original and +ineffaceable organization. Wherever the Jew goes, he remains a Jew. +In all climates, under all governments, speaking all languages, his +physical and mental features continue the same. This amazing fact +has been held by many theologians to be a standing miracle of Divine +Providence. But Providence works by law, and through second causes, and +uses in this instance the laws of a specially stubborn organization +and the force of a tenacious and persistent blood to accomplish its +ends. The same kind of blood in the kindred Semitic family of Arabs +produces a like result, though to a less striking degree. The Bedouins +wander for thousands of miles away from their peninsula, but always +continue Arabs in appearance and character. The light, sinewy body and +brilliant dark eye, the abstemious habit and roaming tendency, mark the +Arab in Hindostan or Barbary. It is a thousand years since these nomad +tribes left their native home, but they continue the same people on the +Persian Gulf or amid the deserts of Sahara. + +The case of the Gypsies, however, may be still more striking, because +these seem, in their wanderings over the earth, to have gradually +divested themselves of every other common attribute except that of +race. Unlike the Jews and Arabs, they not only adopt the language, but +also the religion, of the country where they happen to be. Yet they +always remain unfused and unassimilated. + +The Gypsies first appeared in Europe in 1417, in Moldavia, and thence +spread into Transylvania and Hungary.[32] They afterward passed into +all the countries of Europe, where their number, at the present time, +is supposed to reach 700,000 or 800,000. Everywhere they adopt the +common form of worship, but are without any real faith. Partially +civilized in some countries, they always retain their own language +beside that of the people among whom they live. This language, being +evidently derived from the Sanskrit, settles the question of their +origin. It is common to all their branches through the world; as +are also the sweet voice of their maidens, and their habits of +horse-dealing, fortune-telling, and petty larceny. Without the bond +of religion, history, government, literature, or mutual knowledge and +intercourse, they still remain one and the same people in all their +dispersions. What gives this unity and permanence, if not race? Yet +race, to Mr. Buckle, means nothing. + +III. _Mr. Buckle's Theory concerning Skepticism._--One of the laws of +history which Mr. Buckle considers himself to have established, if not +discovered, is that a spirit of skepticism precedes necessarily the +progress of knowledge, and therefore of civilization. By skepticism he +means a doubt of the truth of received opinions. He asserts that "a +spirit of doubt" is the necessary antecedent to "the love of inquiry." +(Vol. I. p. 242, Am. ed.) "Doubt must intervene before investigation +can begin. Here, then, we have the act of doubting as the originator, +or at all events the necessary antecedent, of all progress." + +If this were so, progress would be impossible. For the great groundwork +of knowledge for each generation must be laid in the minds of children; +and children learn, not by doubting, but by believing. Children +are actuated at the same time by an insatiable curiosity and an +unquestioning faith. They ask the reason of everything, and they accept +every reason which is given them. If they stopped to question and to +doubt, they would learn very little. But by not doubting at all, while +they are made to believe some errors, they acquire an immense amount of +information. Kind Mother Nature understands the process of learning and +the principle of progress much better than Mr. Buckle, and fortunately +supplies every new generation of children with an ardent desire for +knowledge, and a disposition to believe everything they hear. + +Perhaps, however, Mr. Buckle refers to men rather than children. He +may not insist on children's stopping to question everything they hear +before they believe. But in men perhaps this spirit is essential to +progress. What great skeptics, then, have been also great discoverers? +Which was the greatest discoverer, Leibnitz or Bayle, Sir Isaac Newton +or Voltaire? A faith amounting nearly to credulity is almost essential +to discovery,--a faith which foresees what it cannot prove, which +follows suggestions and hints, and so traces the faintest impressions +left by the flying footsteps of truth. The attitude of the intellect in +all discovery is not that of doubt, but of faith. The discoverer always +appears to critical and skeptical men as a visionary. + +"To skepticism," says Mr. Buckle, "we owe the spirit of inquiry, +which, during the last two centuries, has gradually encroached on +every possible subject, and reformed every department of practical +and speculative knowledge." But this is plainly what logicians call +a ὕστερον πρότερον {hysteron proteron}, or what common people call +"putting the cart before the horse." It is not skepticism which +produces the spirit of inquiry, but the spirit of inquiry which +produces skepticism. It was not a doubt concerning the Mosaic cosmogony +which led to the study of geology; the study of geology led to the +doubt of the cosmogony. Skepticism concerning the authority of the +Church did not lead to the discovery of the Copernican system; the +discovery of the Copernican system led to doubts concerning the +authority of the Church which denied it. People do not begin by +doubting, but by seeking. The love of knowledge leads them to inquire, +and inquiry shows to them new truths. The new truths, being found to be +opposed to received opinions, cause a doubt concerning those opinions +to arise in the mind. Skepticism, therefore, may easily follow, but +does not precede inquiry. + +Skepticism, being a negative principle, is necessarily unproductive +and barren. To have no strong belief, no fixed opinion, no vital +conviction for or against anything,--this is surely not a state of +intellect favorable to any great creation or discovery. Goethe, who was +certainly no bigot, says, in a volume of his posthumous works, that +skepticism is only an inverted superstition, and that this skepticism +is one of the chief evils of the present age. "It is worse," he adds, +"than superstition, for superstition is the inheritance of energetic, +heroic, progressive natures; skepticism belongs to weak, contracted, +shrinking men, who venture not out of themselves." Lord Bacon says +("Advancement of Learning," Book II.) that doubts have their advantages +in learning, of which he mentions two, but says that "both these +commodities do scarcely countervail an inconvenience which will intrude +itself, if it be not debarred; which is, that when a doubt is once +received, men labor rather how to keep it a doubt than how to solve +it." It will be seen, therefore, that Lord Bacon gives to skepticism +scarcely more encouragement than is given it by Goethe. + +Mr. Buckle says (Vol. I. p. 250) that "Skepticism, which in physics +must always be the beginning of science, in religion must always be +the beginning of toleration." We have seen that in physics skepticism +is rather the end of science than its beginning, and the same is true +of toleration. Skepticism does not necessarily produce toleration. The +Roman augurs, who laughed in each other's faces, were quite ready to +assist at the spectacle of Christians thrown to the lions. Skeptics, +not having any inward conviction as a support, rest on established +opinions, and are angry at seeing them disturbed. A strong belief is +sufficient for itself, but a half-belief wishes to put down all doubts +by force. This is well expressed by Thomas Burnet (Epistola 2, De Arch. +Phil.): "Non potui non in illam semper propendere opinionem, Neminem +irasci in veritate defendenda, qui eandem plene possidet, viditque +in claro lumine. Evidens enim, et indubitata ratio, sibi sufficit +et acquiescit: aliisque a scopo oberrantibus, non tam succenset, +quam miseretur. Sed cum argumentorum adversantium aculeos sentimus, +et quodammodo periclitari causam nostram, tum demum æstuamus, et +effervescimus." + +The least firm believers have often been the most violent persecutors. +Nero persecuted the Christians; Marcus Antoninus persecuted them; +but neither Nero nor Antoninus had any religious reason for this +persecution. Antoninus, the best head of his time, was a sufficient +skeptic to suit Mr. Buckle, as regards all points of the established +religion, but his skepticism did not prevent him from being a +persecutor. Unbelieving Popes, like Alexander VI. and Leo X., have +persecuted. True toleration is not born of unbelief, as Mr. Buckle +supposes, but of a deeper faith. Religious liberty has not been given +to the world by skeptics, but by such men as Milton, Baxter, Jeremy +Taylor, and Roger Williams. + +So far from general skepticism being the antecedent condition of +intellectual progress and discovery, it is a sign of approaching +intellectual stagnation and decay. A great religious movement usually +precedes and prepares the way for a great mental development. Thus the +religious activity born of Protestantism showed its results in England +in the age of Elizabeth, and in a general outbreak of intellectual +activity over all Europe. On the other hand, the skepticism of the +eighteenth century was accompanied by comparative stagnation of thought +throughout Christendom. + +IV. _Mr. Buckle's View of the small Influence of Religion on +Civilization._--Mr. Buckle thinks it is erroneous to suppose that +religion is one of the prime movers of human affairs. (Vol. I. p. 183.) +Religion, according to him, has little to do with human progress. +In this opinion, he differs from nearly all other great historians +and philosophical thinkers. In modern times, Hegel, Niebuhr, Guizot, +Arnold, and Macaulay, among others, have discussed the part taken by +religious ideas in the development of man, laying the greatest stress +on this element. But Mr. Buckle denies that religion is one of the +prime movers in human affairs. The Crusades have been thought to have +exercised some influence on European civilization. But religion was +certainly the prime mover of the Crusades. Mohammedanism exercised +some influence on the development of European life. But Mohammedanism +was an embodiment of religious ideas. The Protestant Reformation +shook every institution, every nation, every part of social life, in +Christendom, and Europe rocked to its foundations under the influence +of this great movement. But religion was the prime mover of it all. +The English Revolution turned on religious ideas. The rise of the +Dutch Republic was determined by them. In one form they colonized South +America and Mexico; in another form, they planted New England. Such +great constructive minds as those of Alfred and Charlemagne have been +benevolently inspired by rational religion; such dark, destructive +natures as those of Philip II. of Spain, Catharine de Medicis of +France, and Mary Tudor of England have been malevolently inspired by +fanatical religion. + +On what grounds, then, does Mr. Buckle dispute the influence of +religion? On two grounds mainly. First, he tells us that moral ideas +are not susceptible of progress, and therefore cannot have exercised +any perceptible influence on the progress of civilization. For that +which does not change, he argues, cannot influence that which changes. +That which has been known for thousands of years cannot be the cause +of an event which took place for the first time only yesterday. "Since +civilization is the product of moral and intellectual agencies," +says Mr. Buckle, "and since that product is constantly changing, it +cannot be regulated by the stationary agent; because when surrounding +circumstances are unchanged, a stationary agent can produce only a +stationary effect." On this principle, gravitation could not be the +cause of the appearance of Donati's comet in the neighborhood of the +sun. For gravitation is a stationary and uniform agent; it cannot +therefore produce an accelerated motion. Mr. Buckle will answer, that +though the law of gravitation is one and the same in all ages, and +uniform in its action, the result of its action may be different at +different times, according to the position in the universe of the +object acted upon. True; and in like manner we may say, that, though +religious ideas are immutable, the result of their action on the +human mind may be different, according to the position of that mind +in relation to them. The doctrine of one God, the Maker and Lord of +all things, was not a new one, or one newly discovered in the seventh +century. Yet when applied by Mohammed to the Arabian mind, it was like +a spark coming in contact with gunpowder. Those wandering sons of the +desert, unknown before in the affairs of the world, and a negative +quantity in human history, sprang up a terrible power, capable of +overrunning and conquering half the earth. Religion awakened them; +religion organized them; religion directed them. The fact that an idea +is an old one is no proof, therefore, that it may not suddenly begin to +act with awful efficiency on civilization and the destiny of man. + +The other reason given by Mr. Buckle why religious ideas have little +influence in history is, that the religion of a nation is symptomatic +of its mental and moral state. Men take the religious ideas which +suit them. A religion not suited to a people cannot be accepted by +it; or, if accepted, has no influence on it. This thought, argued at +considerable length by Mr. Buckle, is so perfectly true as to be a +truism. The religion of a people is no doubt an effect. But may it +not also be a cause? It, no doubt, cannot be received by a people +not prepared for it. But does it therefore exercise no influence on +a people which it finds prepared? Fire cannot explode an unexplosive +material, nor inflame one not inflammable. But does it follow that it +effects nothing when brought into contact with one which is inflammable +or explosive? A burning coal laid on a rock or put into the water +produces no effect. But does this prove that the explosion of gunpowder +is in no manner due to the contact of fire? + +"The religion of mankind," says Mr. Buckle, "is the effect of their +improvement, and not the cause of it." His proof is that missions and +missionaries among the heathen produce only a superficial change among +barbarous and unenlightened tribes. Knowledge, he says, must prepare +the way for it. There must, no doubt, be some kind of preparation for +Christianity. But does it follow that Christianity, when its way is +prepared, is _only_ an effect? Why may it not be also a cause? Judaism +prepared the way for Christianity. But did not Christianity produce +some effect on Judaism? The Arab mind was prepared for Mohammedanism. +But did not Mohammedanism produce some effect on the Arab mind? Europe +was prepared by various influences for Protestantism. But did not +Protestantism produce some effects on Europe? + +It might, with equal truth, and perhaps with greater truth, be asserted +that intellectual ideas are the result of previous training, and that +they are therefore an effect, and by no means a cause. The intellectual +truths accepted by any period depend certainly on the advanced +condition of human culture. You cannot teach logarithms to Hottentots, +trigonometry to Digger Indians, or the differential calculus to the +Feejee Islanders. Hence, according to our author's logic, those very +intellectual ideas which he thinks the only great movers in human +affairs are really no movers at all, but only symptoms of the actual +intellectual condition of a nation. + +But it is a curious fact, that, while Mr. Buckle considers religious +ideas of so little importance in the history of civilization, he +nevertheless devotes a large part of both his volumes to proving +the great evil done to civilization by erroneous forms of religious +opinion. Nearly the whole of his second volume is in fact given to +showing the harm done in Spain and Scotland by false systems of +religious thought. Why spend page after page in showing the evil +influence of false religion on society, if religion, whether true or +false, has scarcely any influence at all? Why search through all +the records of religious fanaticism and superstition, to bring up to +the day the ghosts of dead beliefs, if these beliefs are, after all, +powerless either for good or evil? + + * * * * * + +The second volume, the recent publication of which has suggested this +second review of Mr. Buckle's work, contains much of interest and +value, but suffers from the imperfect method of which we complained at +the beginning of this article. It is chiefly devoted to a description +of the evils resulting from priestcraft in the two countries of Spain +and Scotland. It contains six chapters. The first is on the History of +the Spanish Intellect from the fifth to the middle of the nineteenth +century. The other five chapters relate to Scotland. + +In the chapter on Spain Buckle attempts to show how loyalty and +superstition began in this nation, and what has been the result. Of +course, according to his theory, he is obliged to trace their origin to +external circumstances, and he finds the cause of the superstition in +the climate, which produced drought and famine, and in the earthquakes +which alarmed the people. And here Mr. Buckle, following the philosophy +of Lucretius, confounds religion and fear, and puts the occasion for +the cause. But, beside earthquakes, the Arian heresy helped to create +this superstition, by identifying the wars for national independence +with those for religion, and so giving a great ascendency to the +priests. Hence the Church in Spain early acquired great power, and, +naturally allying itself with the government, gave rise to the +sentiment of loyalty, which was increased by the Moorish invasion and +the long wars which followed. Loyalty and superstition thus became so +deeply rooted in the Spanish mind, that they could not be eradicated +by the efforts of the government. Nothing but knowledge can cure this +blind and servile loyalty and this abject superstition, and while Spain +continues sunk in ignorance it must always remain superstitious and +submissive. + +Some difficulties, however, suggest themselves in the way of this very +simple explanation. If superstitious loyalty to Church and king comes +from earthquakes, why are not the earthquake regions of the West Indies +and of South America more loyal, instead of being in a state of chronic +revolution? And how came Scotland to be so diseased with loyalty and +superstition, when she is so free from earthquakes? And if knowledge is +such a certain cure for superstition, why was not Spain cured by the +flood of light which she, alone of all European countries, enjoyed in +the Middle Ages? Spain was for a long time the source of science and +art to all Europe, whose Christian sons resorted to her universities +and libraries for instruction. There was taught to English, French, +and German students the philosophy of Aristotle, the Græco-Arabic +literature, mathematics, and natural history. The numerals, gunpowder, +paper, and other inventions of the Arabs, passed into Europe from +Spain. She possessed, therefore, that knowledge of physical laws which +Mr. Buckle declares to be the only cure for superstition. Yet she was +not cured. The nation which, according to his theory, ought to have +been soonest delivered from superstition, according to his statements +has retained its yoke longer than any other. + +From Spain Mr. Buckle passes to Scotland, where he finds a still more +complicated problem. Superstition and loyalty ought to go together, he +thinks,--and usually do; but in Scotland they are divorced. The Scotch +have always been superstitious, but disloyal. To the explanation of +this fact Mr. Buckle bends his energies of thought, and of course is +able to find a theory to account for it. This theory we shall not stop +to detail; it is too complex, and at the same time too superficial, +to dwell upon. Its chief point is that the Protestant noblemen and +Protestant clergy quarreled about the wealth of the Catholic Church, +and so there was in Scotland a complete rupture between the two classes +elsewhere in alliance. Thus "the clergy, finding themselves despised +by the governing class, united themselves heartily with the people, +and advocated democratic principles." Such is the explanation given +to the course of history in a great nation. A quarrel between its +noblemen and its ministers (who are of course represented as mercenary +self-seekers) determines its permanent character! + +Mr. Buckle, to whom the love of plunder appears as the cause of what +other men regard as loyalty or religion, explains by the same fact the +loyalty of the Highlanders to King Charles. They thought that, if he +conquered, he would allow them to plunder the Lowlanders once more. +This is Buckle's explanation. An ethnologist would have remembered the +fact that the Gaels are pure-blooded Kelts, and that the Kelts _pur +sang_ are everywhere distinguished for loyalty to their chiefs. + +Mr. Buckle encounters another difficulty in Scottish history in this, +that though a new and splendid literature arose in Scotland at the +beginning of the eighteenth century, it was unable to diminish national +superstition. It was thoroughly skeptical, and yet did not produce the +appropriate effect of skepticism. So that at this point one of Mr. +Buckle's four great laws of history seems to break down. For a moment +he appears discouraged, and laments, with real pathos, the limitations +of the human intellect. But in the next chapter he addresses himself +again to the solution of his two-fold problem, viz.: "1st, that the +same people should be liberal in their politics and illiberal in their +religion; and, 2d, that their free and skeptical literature in the +eighteenth century should have been unable to lessen their religious +illiberality." + +In approaching this part of his task, in the fifth chapter, our +author gives a very elaborate and highly colored picture of the +religion of Scotland. It is _too_ well done. Like some of Macaulay's +descriptions, it is so very striking as to impress us almost inevitably +as a caricature. Every statement in which the horrors and cruelties +of Calvinism are described is indeed reinforced by ample citations +or plentiful references in the footnotes. But some of these seem +capable of a different inference from that drawn in the text. For +instance, he charges the Scottish clergy with teaching, that, though +the arrangements originally made by the Deity to punish his creatures +were ample, "they were insufficient; and hell, not being big enough +to contain the countless victims incessantly poured into it, had in +these latter days been enlarged. There was now sufficient room." He +supports the charge by this reference to Abernethy,--"Hell has enlarged +itself,"--apparently not being aware that Abernethy was merely quoting +from Isaiah. He says that to write poetry was considered by the Scotch +clergy to be a grievous offence, and worthy of special condemnation. +He supports his statement by this reference: "A mastership in a +grammar school was offered in 1767 to John Wilson, the author of +'Clyde'" (a poet, by the by, not found among the twenty John Wilsons +commemorated by Watt). "But, says his biographer, the magistrates and +ministers of Greenock thought fit, before they would admit Mr. Wilson +to the superintendence of the grammar school, to stipulate that he +should abandon 'the profane and unprofitable art of poem-making.'" +This fact, however, by no means proves that poetry was considered, +theologically, a sin, for perhaps it was regarded practically as only a +disqualification. It is to be feared that many of our school committees +now--country shopkeepers, perhaps, or city aldermen--would, apart from +Calvinism, think that a poet must be necessarily a dreamer and an +unpractical man. + +A few exaggerations of this kind there may be. But, on the whole, the +account seems to be correctly given; and it is one which will do good. + +In the remaining portion of the second volume Mr. Buckle gives a very +vigorous description of the intellectual progress of the Scotch during +the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. His account of Adam Smith +as a writer is peculiarly brilliant. His views of Hume and Reid are +ably drawn. Thence he proceeds to discuss the discoveries of Black +and Leslie in natural philosophy, of Smith and Hutton in geology, +of Cavendish in chemistry, of Cullen and Hunter in physiology and +pathology. These discussions are interesting, and show a great range of +knowledge and power of study in the writer. Yet they are episodes, and +have little bearing on the main course of his thought. + +We have thus given a cursory survey of these volumes. We do not think +Buckle's philosophy sound, his method good, or his doctrines tenable. +Yet we cannot but sympathize with one who has devoted his strength and +youth with such untiring industry to such a great enterprise. And we +must needs be touched with the plaintive confession which breaks from +his wearied mind and exhausted hope in the last volume, when he accepts +the defeat of his early endeavor, and submits to the disappointment of +his youthful hope. We should be glad to quote the entire passage,[33] +because it is the best in the book, and because he expresses in it, in +the most condensed form, his ideas and purposes as an historic writer. +But our limited space allows us only to commend it to the special +attention of the reader. + + + + +VOLTAIRE[34] + + +Mr. Parton has given us in these volumes[35] another of his interesting +and instructive biographies. Not as interesting, indeed, as some +others,--for example, as his life of Andrew Jackson; nor as instructive +as his lives of Franklin and of Jefferson. The nature of the case made +this impossible. The story of Jackson had never been told till Mr. +Parton undertook it. It was a history of frontier life, of strange +adventures, of desperate courage, of a force of character which +conquered all obstacles and achieved extraordinary results; a story + + "Of moving accidents by flood and field, + Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach, + Of being taken by the insolent foe." + +No such interest attaches to the "Life of Voltaire." His most serious +adventure was being shut up in the Bastille for a pasquinade, and +being set free again on his solemn protestation, true or false, +that he never wrote it. It is an old story, told a thousand times, +with all its gloss, if it ever had any, quite worn off. The "Life +of Franklin," which, on the whole, we think the best of Parton's +biographies, was full of interest and instruction of another kind. +It was the life of a builder,--of one who gave his great powers to +construction, to building up new institutions and new sciences, to the +discovery of knowledge and the creation of national life. Voltaire was +a diffuser of knowledge already found, but he had not the patience +nor the devotion of a discoverer. His gift was not to construct good +institutions, but to destroy bad ones,--a work the interest of which is +necessarily ephemeral. No wonder, therefore, that Mr. Parton, with all +his practiced skill as a biographer, has not been able to give to the +story of Voltaire the thrilling interest which he imparted to that of +Franklin and of Jackson. + +We gladly take the present opportunity to add our recognition of Mr. +Parton's services to those which have come to him from other quarters. +A writer of unequal merit, and one whose judgment is often biased by +his prejudices, he nevertheless has done much to show how biography +should be written. Of all forms of human writing there is none which +ought to be at once so instructive and so interesting as this, but in +the large majority of instances it is the most vapid and empty. The +good biographies, in all languages, are so few that they can almost be +counted on the fingers; but these are among the most precious books in +the literature of mankind. The story of Ruth, the Odyssey of Homer, +Plutarch's lives, the Memorabilia of Xenophon, the life of Agricola, +the Confessions of Augustine, among the ancients; and, in modern times, +Boswell's "Johnson," the autobiographies of Alfieri, Benvenuto Cellini, +Franklin, Goethe, Voltaire's "Charles XII.," and Southey's "Life of +Wesley" are specimens of what may be accomplished in this direction. It +has been thought that any man can write a biography, but it requires +genius to understand genius. How much intelligence is necessary to +collect with discrimination the significant facts of a human life; to +penetrate to the law of which they are the expression; to give the +picturesque proportions to every part, to arrange the foreground, the +middle distance, and the background of the panorama; to bring out +in proper light and shadow the features and deeds of the hero! Few +biographers take this trouble. They content themselves with collecting +the letters written by and to their subject; sweeping together the +facts of his life, important or otherwise; arranging them in some kind +of chronological order; and then having this printed and bound up in +one or two heavy volumes. + +To all this many writers of biography add another fault, which is +almost a fatal one. They treat their subject _de haut en bas_, +preferring to look down upon him rather than to look up to him. They +occupy themselves in criticising his faults and pointing out his +deficiencies, till they forget to mention what he has accomplished to +make him worthy of having his life written at all. We lately saw a +life of Pope treated in this style. One unacquainted with Pope, after +reading it, would say, "If he was such a contemptible fellow, and his +writings so insignificant, why should we have to read his biography?" +Thomas Carlyle has the great merit of leading the way in the opposite +direction, and of thus initiating a new style of biography. The old +method was for the writer to regard himself as a judge on the bench, +and the subject of his biography as a prisoner at the bar. Carlyle, +in his "Life of Schiller," showed himself a loving disciple, sitting +at the feet of his master. We recollect that when this work first +appeared there were only a few copies known to be in this country. +One was in the possession of an eminent professor in Harvard College, +of whom the present writer borrowed it. On returning it, he was asked +what he thought of it, and replied that he considered it written with +much enthusiasm. "Yes," responded the professor, "I myself thought it +rather extravagant." Enthusiasm in a biographer was then considered +to be the same as extravagance. But this hero-worship, which is the +charm in Plutarch, Xenophon, and Boswell, inspired a like interest in +Carlyle's portraits of Schiller, Goethe, Richter, Burns, and the actors +in the French Revolution. So true is his own warning: "Friend, if you +wish me to take an interest in what you say, be so kind as to take some +interest in it yourself"--a golden maxim, to be kept in mind by all +historians, writers of travels, biographers, preachers, and teachers. +A social success may sometimes be accomplished by assuming the _blasé_ +air of the Roman emperor who said, "Omnia fui, nihil expedit;" but this +tone is ruinous for one who wishes the ear of the public. + +Since the days of Carlyle, others have written in the same spirit, +allowing themselves to take more or less interest in the man whose life +they were relating. So Macaulay, in his sketches of Clive, Hastings, +Chatham, Pym, and Hampden; so Lewes, in his "Life of Goethe;" and so +Parton, in his various biographies. + +In some respects Mr. Parton's biography reminds us of Macaulay's +History. Both have been credited with the same qualities, both charged +with the same defects. Both are indefatigable in collecting material +from all quarters,--from other histories and biographies, memoirs, +letters, newspapers, broadsides, and personal communications gathered +in many out-of-the-way localities. Both have the power of discarding +insignificant details and retaining what is suggestive and picturesque. +Both, therefore, have the same supreme merit of being interesting. +Both have strong prejudices, take sides earnestly, forget that they +are narrators, and begin to plead as attorneys and advocates. Both +have been accused, rightly or wrongly, of grave inaccuracies. But their +defects will not prevent them from holding their place as teachers of +the English-speaking public. English and American readers will long +continue to think of Marlborough as Macaulay represents him; of Jackson +and Jefferson as Parton describes them. Such Rembrandt-like portraits +fix the attention by their strange chiaro-oscuro. They may not be like +nature, but they take the place of nature. The most remarkable instance +of this kind is the representation of Tiberius by Tacitus, which has +caused mankind, until very recently, to consider Tiberius a monster +of licentiousness and cruelty, in spite of the almost self-evident +absurdity and self-contradiction of this assumption.[36] Limners with +such a terrible power of portraiture should be very careful how they +use it, and not abuse the faculty in the interest of their prejudices. + +If Mr. Parton resembles Macaulay in some respects, in one point, at +least, he is like Carlyle: that is, that his last hero is the least +interesting. From Schiller and Goethe to Frederic the Great was a fall; +and so from Franklin to Voltaire. Carlyle tells us what a weary task +he had with his Prussian king, and we think that Mr. Parton's labors +over the patriarch of the eighteenth-century literature must have been +equally distressing. At a distance, Voltaire is a striking phenomenon: +the most brilliant wit of almost any period; the most prolific +writer; a successful dramatist, historian, biographer, story-teller, +controversialist, lyrical poet, student of science. "Truly, a universal +genius, a mighty power!" we say. But look more closely, and this genius +turns into talent; this encyclopædic knowledge becomes only superficial +half knowledge; this royalty is a sham royalty; it does not lead the +world, but follows it. The work into which Voltaire put his heart was +destruction--the destruction of falsehoods, bigotries, cruelties, and +shams. It was an important duty, and some one had to do it. But it was +temporary, and one of which the interest is soon over. If Luther and +the other reformers had aimed at only destroying the Church of Rome, +their influence would have speedily ceased. But they rebuilt, as they +destroyed; the sword in one hand, and the trowel in the other. They +destroyed in order to build; they took away the outgrown house, to put +another in its place. Voltaire did not go so far as that; he wanted no +new church in the place of the old one. + +Voltaire and Rousseau are often spoken of as though they were +fellow-workers, and are associated in many minds as sharing the same +convictions. Nothing can be more untrue. They were radically opposite +in the very structure of their minds, and their followers and admirers +are equally different. If all men can be divided into Platonists +and Aristotelians, they may be in like manner classified as those +who prefer Voltaire to Rousseau, and _vice versa_. Both were indeed +theists, and both opposed to the popular religion of their time. Both +were brilliant writers, masters of the French language, listened to +by the people, and with a vast popularity. Both were more or less +persecuted for their religious heresies. So far they resemble each +other. But these are only external resemblances; radically and inwardly +they were polar opposites. What attracted one repelled the other. +Voltaire was a man of the world, fond of society and social pleasures; +the child of his time, popular, a universal favorite. Rousseau shrank +from society, hated its fashions, did not enjoy its pleasures, and +belonged to another epoch than the eighteenth century. Rousseau +believed in human nature, and thought that if we could return to our +natural condition the miseries of life would cease. Voltaire despised +human nature; he forever repeated that the majority of men were knaves +and fools. Rousseau distrusted education and culture as they are +commonly understood; but to Voltaire's mind they were the only matters +of any value,--all that made life worth living. Rousseau was more like +Pascal than like Voltaire; far below Pascal, no doubt, in fixed moral +principles and ascetic virtue. Yet he resembled him in his devotion +to ideas, his enthusiasm for some better day to come. Both were out of +place in their own time; both were prophets crying in the wilderness. +Put Voltaire between Pascal and Rousseau, and it would be something +like the tableau of Goethe between Basedow and Lavater. + + "Prophete rechts, Propliete links, + Das Weltkind in der Mitte." + +The difference between Voltaire and Rousseau was really that between a +man of talent and a man of genius. Voltaire, brilliant, adroit, full of +resource, quick as a flash, versatile, with immense powers of working, +with a life full of literary successes, has not left behind him a +single masterpiece. He comes in everywhere second best. As a tragedian +he is inferior to Racine; as a wit and comic writer far below Molière; +and he is quite surpassed as a historian and biographer by many modern +French authors. No germinating ideas are to be found in his writings, +no seed corn for future harvests. He thought himself a philosopher, +and was so regarded by others; but neither had his philosophy any +roots to it. A sufficient proof of this is the fact that he shared the +superficial optimism of the English deists, as expressed by Bolingbroke +and Pope, until the Lisbon earthquake, by destroying thirty thousand +people, changed his whole mental attitude. Till then he could say with +Pope, "Whatever is, is right." After that, most things which are, +appeared to him fatally and hopelessly wrong. That thirty thousand +persons should perish in a few minutes, in great suffering, he thought +inconsistent with the goodness of God. But take the whole world over, +thirty thousand people are continually perishing, in the course of a +few hours or days. What difference does it make, in a philosophical +point of view, if they die all at once in a particular place, or at +longer intervals in many places? Voltaire asks, "What crime had those +infants committed who lie crushed on their mother's breasts?" What +crime, we reply, have the infants committed who have been dying by +millions, in suffering, since the world began? "Was Lisbon," he asks, +"more wicked than Paris?" But had Voltaire never noticed before that +wicked people often live on in health and pleasure, while the good +suffer and die? Voltaire did not see, what it requires very little +philosophy to discover, that a Lisbon earthquake really presents no +more difficulty to the reason than the suffering and death of a single +child. + +Another fact which shows the shallow nature of Voltaire's way of +thinking is his expectation of destroying Christianity by a combined +attack upon it of all the wits and philosophers. Mr. Parton tells us +that "l'Infâme," which Voltaire expected to crush, "was not religion, +nor the Christian religion, nor the Roman Catholic Church. It was," +he says, "_religion claiming supernatural authority, and enforcing +that claim by pains and penalties_." No doubt it was the spirit +of intolerance and persecution which excited his indignation. But +the object of that indignation was not the abstraction which Mr. +Parton presents to us. It was something far more concrete. There is +no doubt that Voltaire confounded Christianity with the churches +about him, and these with their abuses; and thus his object was to +sweep away all positive religious institutions, and to leave in +their place a philosophic deism. Else what meaning in his famous +boast that "it required twelve men to found a belief, which it would +need only one man to destroy"? What meaning, otherwise, in his +astonishment that Locke, "having in one book so profoundly traced +the development of the understanding, could so degrade his own +understanding in another"?--referring, as Mr. Morley believes, to +Locke's "Reasonableness of Christianity." Voltaire saw around him +Christianity represented by cruel bigots, ecclesiastics living in +indolent luxury, narrow-minded and hard-hearted priests. That was all +the Christianity he saw with his sharp perceptive faculty; and he +had no power of penetrating into the deeper life of the soul which +these corruptions misrepresented. We do not blame him for this; he +was made so; but it was a fatal defect in a reformer. The first work +of a reformer is to discover the truth and the good latent amid the +abuses he wishes to reform, and for the sake of which men endure the +evil. A Buddhist proverb says, "The human mind is like a leech: it +never lets go with its tail till it has taken hold somewhere else with +its head." Distinguish the good in a system from the evil; show how +the good can be preserved, though the evil is abandoned, and then you +may hope to effect a truly radical reform. Radicalism means going to +the roots of anything. Voltaire was incapable of becoming a radical +reformer of the Christian Church, because he had in himself no faculty +by which he could appreciate the central forces of Christianity. Mr. +Morley says that Voltaire "has said no word, nor even shown an indirect +appreciation of any word said by another, which stirs and expands that +indefinite exaltation known as the love of God," "or of the larger word +holiness." "Through the affronts which his reason received from certain +pretensions, both in the writers and in some of those whose actions +they commemorated, this sublime trait in the Bible, in both portions +of it, was unhappily lost to Voltaire. He had no ear for the finer +vibrations of the spiritual voice." And so also speaks Carlyle: "It is +a much more serious ground of offense that he intermeddled in religion +without being himself, in any measure, religious; that he entered the +temple and continued there with a levity which, in any temple where +men worship, can beseem no brother man; that, in a word, he ardently, +and with long-continued effort, warred against Christianity, without +understanding beyond the mere superficies of what Christianity was." +In fact, in the organization of Voltaire, the organ of reverence, "the +crown of the whole moral nature," seems to have been at its minimum. A +sense of justice there was; an ardent sympathy with the oppressed, a +generous hatred of the oppressor, a ready devotion of time, thought, +wealth, to the relief of the down-trodden victim. Therefore, with +such qualities, Voltaire, by the additional help of his indefatigable +energy, often succeeded in plucking the prey from the jaws of the lion. +He was able to defeat the combined powers of Church and State in his +advocacy of some individual sufferer, in his battle against some single +wrong. But his long war against the Catholic Church in France left it +just where it was when that war began. Its power to-day in France is +greater than it was then, because it is a purer and better institution +than it was then. That Sphinx still sits by the roadside propounding +its riddle. Voltaire was not the Œdipus who could solve it, and so the +life of that mystery remains untouched until now. + +The Henriade has often been considered the great epic poem of France. +This merely means that France has never produced a great epic poem. The +Henriade is artificial, prosaic, and has no particle of the glow, the +fire, the prolonged enthusiasm, which alone can give an epic poem to +mankind. In this sentence all competent critics are agreed. + +Voltaire was busy with literature during his whole life. He not +only wrote continually himself, but he was a critic of the writings +of others. His mind was essentially critical,--formed to analyze, +discriminate sharply, compare, and judge by some universal standard +of taste. Here, if anywhere, he ought to be at his best; here, if in +any department, he should stand at the head of the world's board of +literary censors. But here, again, he is not even second-rate; here, +more than elsewhere, he shows how superficial are his judgments. He +tests every writer by the French standard in the eighteenth century. +Every word which Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, have said of other +writers is full of value and interest to-day. But who would go to +Voltaire for light on any book or author? We have an instinctive but +certain conviction that all his views are limited by his immediate +environment, perverted by his personal prejudices. Thus, he prefers +Ariosto to the Odyssey, and Tasso's Jerusalem to the Iliad.[37] His +inability to comprehend the greatness of Shakespeare is well known. +He is filled with indignation because a French critic had called +Shakespeare "the god of the stage." "The blood boils in my old veins," +says he; "and what is frightful to think of, it was I myself who first +showed to Frenchmen the few pearls to be found in the dunghill."[38] +Chesterfield's Letters to his Son he considers "the best book upon +education ever written."[39] This is the book in which a father teaches +his son the art of polite falsehood, of which Dr. Johnson says that "it +shows how grace can be united with wickedness,"--the book whose author +is called by De Vere the philosopher of flattery and dissimulation. He +admitted that there were some good things in Milton, but speaks of his +conceptions as "odd and extravagant."[40] He thought Condorcet much +superior to Pascal. The verses of Helvetius he believed better than +any but those of Racine. The era was what Villemain calls "the golden +age of mediocre writers;" and Voltaire habitually praised them all. +But these writers mostly belonged to a mutual admiration society. The +anatomist Tissot, in one of his physiological works, says that the +genius of Diderot came to show to mankind how every variety of talent +could be brought to perfection in one man. Diderot, in his turn, went +into frantic delight over the novels of Richardson. "Since I have read +these works," he says, "I make them my touchstone; those who do not +admire them are self-condemned. O my friends, what majestic dramas +are these three, Clarissa, Sir Charles Grandison, and Pamela!" Such +was the eighteenth century; and Voltaire belonged to it with all the +intensity of his ardent nature. He may be said never to have seen or +foreseen anything better. Living on the very verge of a great social +revolution, he does not appear to have suspected what its nature would +be, even if he suspected its approach. The cruelties of the Church +exasperated him, but the political condition of society, the misery of +the peasants, the luxury of the nobles, the despotism of the king, left +him unmoved. He was singularly deficient in any conception of the value +of political liberty or of free institutions. If he had lived to see +the coming of the Revolution, it would have utterly astounded him. His +sympathies were with an enlightened aristocracy, not with the people. +In this, too, he was the man of his time, and belonged to the middle of +his century, not the end of it. He saw and lamented the evils of bad +government. He pointed out the miseries produced by war. He abhorred +and denounced the military spirit. He called on the clergy, in the +name of their religion, to join him in his righteous appeals against +this great curse of mankind. "Where," he asks, "in the five or six +thousand sermons of Massillon, are there two in which anything is said +against the scourge of war?" He rebukes the philosophers and moralists, +also, for their delinquency in this matter, and replies forcibly to +Montesquieu's argument that self-defense sometimes makes it necessary +to begin the attack on a neighboring nation. But he does not go back +to trace the evil to its root in the absence of self-government. In +a letter to the King of Prussia he says, "When I asked you to become +the deliverer of Greece, I did not mean to have you restore the +democracy. I do not love the rule of the rabble" (_gouvernement de la +canaille_). Again, writing to the same, in January, 1757, he says, +"Your majesty will confer a great benefit by destroying this infamous +superstition [Christianity]; I do not say among the _canaille_, who +do not deserve to be enlightened, and who ought to be kept down under +all yokes, but among honest people, people who think. Give white bread +to the children, but only black bread to the dogs." In 1762, writing +to the Marquis d'Argens, he says, "The Turks say that their Koran has +sometimes the face of an angel, sometimes the face of a beast. This +description suits our time. There are a few philosophers,--they have +the face of an angel; all else much resembles that of a beast." Again, +he says to Helvetius, "Consider no man your neighbor but the man who +thinks; look on all other men as wolves, foxes, and deer." "We shall +soon see," he writes to D'Alembert, "new heavens and a new earth,--I +mean for honest people; for as to the _canaille_, the stupidest heaven +and earth is all they are fit for." The real government of nations, +according to him, should be administered by absolute kings, in the +interest of freethinkers. + +It is true that after Rousseau had published his trumpet-call in +behalf of democratic rights, Voltaire began to waver. It has been +remarked that "at the very time when he expressed an increasing +ill-will against the person of the author of 'Emile,' he was +irresistibly attracted to the principal doctrines of Rousseau. He +entered, as if in spite of himself, into paths toward which his feet +were never before directed. As if to revenge himself for coming under +this salutary influence, he pursued Rousseau with blind anger."[41] He +harshly attacked the Social Contract, but accepted the sovereignty of +the people; saying that "civil government is the will of all, executed +by a single one, or by several, in virtue of the laws which all have +enacted." He, however, speedily restricted this democratic principle +by confining the right of making laws to the owners of real estate. +He declares that those who have neither house nor land ought not to +have any voice in the matter. He now began (in 1764) to look forward +to the end of monarchies, and to expect a revolution. Nevertheless, +he plainly declares, "The pretended equality of man is a pernicious +chimera. If there were not thirty laborers to one master, the earth +would not be cultivated." But in practical and humane reforms Voltaire +took the lead, and did good work. He opposed examination by torture, +the punishment of death for theft, the confiscation of the property of +the condemned, the penalties against heretics; secret trials; praised +trial by jury, civil marriage, right of divorce, and reforms in the +direction of hygiene and education. + +And, above all, whatever fault may be found with Voltaire, let us never +cease to appreciate his generous efforts in behalf of the unfortunate +victims of the atrocious bigotry which then prevailed in France. It +is not necessary to dwell here on the cases of Calas, the Sirvens, La +Barre, and the Count de Lally. They are fully told by Mr. Parton, and +to his account we refer our readers. In 1762 the Protestant pastor +Rochette was hanged, by order of the Parliament of Toulouse, for +having exercised his ministry in Languedoc. At the same time three +young gentlemen, Protestants, were beheaded, for having taken arms to +defend themselves from being slaughtered by the Catholics. In 1762, the +Protestant merchant Calas, an aged and worthy citizen of Toulouse, was +tortured and broken on the wheel, on a wholly unsupported charge of +having killed his son to keep him from turning Catholic. A Protestant +girl named Sirven was, about the same time, taken from her parents, +and shut up in a convent, to compel her to change her religion. She +escaped, and perished by accident during her flight. The parents were +accused of having killed her to keep her from becoming a Catholic. They +escaped, but the wife died of exposure and want. In 1766 a crucifix +was injured by some wanton persons. The Bishop of Amiens called out +for vengeance. Two young officers, eighteen years old, were accused. +One escaped; the other, La Barre, was condemned to have his tongue +cut out, his right hand cut off, and to be burned alive. The sentence +was commuted to death by decapitation. Voltaire, seventy years old, +devoted himself with masterly ability and untiring energy to save +these victims; and when he failed in that, to show the falsehood of +the charges, and to obtain a revision of the judgments. He used all +means: personal appeals to men in power and to female favorites, +eloquence, wit, pathos in every form of writing. He called on all his +friends to aid him. He poured a flood of light into these dark places +of iniquity. His generous labors were crowned with success. He procured +a reversal of these iniquitous decisions; in some cases a restoration +of the confiscated property, and a public recognition of the innocence +of those condemned. Without knowing it, he was acting as a disciple of +Jesus. Perhaps he may have met in the other world with the great leader +of humanity, whom he never understood below, and been surprised to hear +him say, "Inasmuch as thou hast done it to the least of my little ones, +thou hast done it unto me." + +Carlyle tells us that the chief quality of Voltaire was _adroitness_. +He denies that he was really a great man, and says that in one +essential mark of greatness he was wholly wanting, that is, +earnestness. He adds that Voltaire was by birth a mocker; that this +was the irresistible bias of his disposition; that the first question +with him was always not what is true but what is false, not what is to +be loved but what is to be contemned. He was shallow without heroism, +full of pettiness, full of vanity; "not a great man, but only a great +_persifleur_." + +But certainly some other qualities than these were essential to +produce the immense influence which he exerted in his own time, and +since. Beside the extreme adroitness of which Carlyle speaks, he +had as exhaustless an energy as was ever granted to any of the sons +of men. He was never happy except when he was at work. He worked at +home, he worked when visiting, he worked in his carriage, he worked at +hotels. Amid annoyances and disturbances which would have paralyzed +the thought and pen of others, Voltaire labored on. Upon his sick bed, +in extreme debility and in old age, that untiring pen was ever in +motion, and whatever came from it interested all mankind. Besides the +innumerable books, tracts, and treatises which fill the volumes of his +collected works, there are said to be in existence fourteen thousand +of his letters, half of which have never been printed. But this was +only a part of the outcome of his terrible vitality. He was also an +enterprising and energetic man of business. He speculated in the funds, +lent money on interest, fitted out ships, bought and sold real estate, +solicited and obtained pensions. In this way he changed his patrimony +of about two hundred thousand francs to an annual income of the same +amount,--equal to at least one hundred thousand dollars a year at the +present time. He was determined to be rich, and he became so; not +because he loved money for itself, nor because he was covetous. He gave +money freely; he used it in large ways. He sought wealth as a means of +self-defense,--to protect himself against the persecution which his +attacks on the Church might bring upon him. He also had, like a great +writer of the present century, Walter Scott, the desire of being a +large landed proprietor and lord of a manor; and, like Scott, he became +one, reigning at Ferney as Scott ruled at Abbotsford. + +In defending himself against his persecutors he used other means +not so legitimate. One of his methods was systematic falsehood. He +first concealed, and then denied, the authorship of any works which +would expose him to danger. He took the tone of injured innocence. +For example, he had worked with delight, during twenty years, on his +wretched "Pucelle." To write new lines in it, or a new canto, was his +refreshment; to read them to his friends gave him the most intense +satisfaction. But when the poem found its way into print, with what +an outcry he denies the authorship, almost before he is charged with +it. He assumes the air of calumniated virtue. The charge, he declares, +is one of the infamous inventions of his enemies. He writes to the +"Journal Encyclopédique," "The crowning point of their devilish +manœuvres is the edition of a poem called 'La Pucelle d'Orléans.' +The editor has the face to attribute this work to the author of the +'Henriade,' the 'Zaïre,' the 'Mérope,' the 'Alzire,' the 'Siècle de +Louis XIV.' He dares to ascribe to this author the flattest, meanest, +and most gross work which can come from the press. My pen refuses to +copy the tissue of silly and abominable obscenities of this work of +darkness." When the "Dictionnaire Philosophique" began to appear, he +wrote to D'Alembert, "As soon as any danger arises, I beg you will let +me know, that I may disavow the work in all the public papers with +my usual candor and innocence." Mr. Parton tells us that he had _a +hundred and eight_ pseudonyms. He signed his pamphlets A Benedictine, +The Archbishop of Canterbury, A Quaker, Rev. Josias Roussette, the Abbé +Lilladet, the Abbé Bigorre, the Pastor Bourn. He was also ready to tell +a downright lie when it suited his convenience. + +When "Candide" was printed, in 1758, he wrote, as Mr. Parton tells +us, to a friendly pastor in Geneva, "I have at length read 'Candide.' +People must have lost their senses to attribute to me that pack of +nonsense. I have, thank God, better occupation. This optimism [of +Pangloss] obviously destroys the foundation of our holy religion." Our +holy religion! + +An excuse may be found for these falsehoods. A writer, it may be said, +has a right to his incognito; if so, he has a right to protect it by +denying the authorship of a book when charged with it. This is doubtful +morality, but Voltaire went far beyond this. He volunteered his +denials. He asserted in every way, with the most solemn asseverations, +that he was not the author of a book which he had written with delight. +But this was not the worst. He not only told these author's lies, +but he was a deliberate hypocrite, professing faith in Christianity, +receiving its sacraments, asking spiritual help from the Pope, +and begging for relics from the Vatican, at the very time that he +was hoping by strenuous efforts to destroy both Catholicism and +Christianity. + +When he was endeavoring to be admitted to a place in the French +Academy, he wrote thus to the Bishop of Mirepoix:[42] "Thanks to +Heaven, my religion teaches me to know how to suffer. The God who +founded it, as soon as he deigned to become man, was of all men the +most persecuted. After such an example, it is almost a crime to +complain.... I can say, before God who hears me, that I am a good +citizen and a true Catholic.... I have written many pages sanctified by +religion." In this Mr. Parton admits that he went too far. + +When at Colmar, as a measure of self-protection, he resolved to +commune at Easter. Mr. Parton says that Voltaire had pensions and +rents to the amount of sixty thousand livres annually, of which the +king could deprive him by a stroke of the pen. So he determined to +prove himself a good Catholic by taking the sacraments. As a necessary +preliminary, he confessed to a Capuchin monk. He wrote to D'Argens +just before, "If I had a hundred thousand men, I know what I should +do; but as I have them not, I shall commune at Easter!" But, writing +to Rousseau, he thinks it shameful in Galileo to retract his opinions. +Mr. Parton too, who is disposed to excuse some of these hypocrisies +in Voltaire, is scandalized because the pastors of Geneva denied the +charges of heresy brought against them by Voltaire; saying that "we +live, as they lived, in an atmosphere of insincerity." In the midst +of all this, Voltaire took credit to himself for his frank avowals of +the truth: "I am not wrong to dare to utter what worthy men think. For +forty years I have braved the base empire of the despots of the mind." +Mr. Parton elsewhere seems to think it would have been impossible for +Voltaire to versify the Psalms; as it was "asked him to give the lie +publicly to his whole career." But if communing at Easter did not do +this, how could a versification of a few psalms accomplish it? Parton +quotes Condorcet as saying that Voltaire could not become a hypocrite, +even to be a cardinal. Could any one do a more hypocritical action +than to partake the sacraments of a Church which he despised in order +to escape the danger of persecution? + +When building his house at Ferney, the neighboring Catholic curés +interfered with him. They prohibited the laborers from working for him. +To meet this difficulty he determined to obtain the protection of the +Pope himself. So he wrote to the Pope, asking for a relic to put in the +church he had built, and received in return a piece of the hair-shirt +of St. Francis. He went to mass frequently. Meantime, in his letters +to his brother freethinkers, he added his usual postscript, "Ecrasez +l'Infâme;" begging their aid in crushing Catholicism and Christianity. +Yet it does not seem that he considered himself a hypocrite in thus +conforming outwardly to a religion which he hated. He thinks that +others who do so are hypocrites, but not that he is one. In 1764 he +writes to Madame du Deffand, "The worst is that we are surrounded by +hypocrites, who worry us to make us think what they themselves do +not think at all." So singular are the self-deceptions of the human +mind. He writes to Frederic ridiculing the sacrament of extreme +unction, and then solemnly partakes of the eucharist. Certainly he +did not belong to the noble army of martyrs. He expected to overturn +a great religious system, not by the power of faith, but by ingenious +pamphlets, brilliant sarcasms, adroit deceptions. In thus thinking he +was eminently superficial. + +His theory on this subject is given in an article in the "Dictionnaire +Philosophique," quoted by Mr. Parton: "Distinguish honest people who +think, from the populace who were not made to think. If usage obliges +you to perform a ridiculous ceremony for the sake of the canaille, and +on the road you meet some people of understanding, notify them by a +sign of the head, or a look, that you think as they do.... If imbeciles +still wish to eat acorns, let them have acorns." + +Mr. Parton describes in full (vol. ii. p. 410) the ceremony of the +eucharist of which Voltaire partook in his own church at Ferney. It was +Easter Sunday, and Voltaire mounted the pulpit and preached a sermon +against theft. Hearing of this, the bishop was scandalized, and forbade +all the curates of the diocese from confessing, absolving, or giving +the sacrament to Voltaire. Upon this Voltaire writes and signs a formal +demand on the curate of Ferney to allow him to confess and commune +in the Catholic Church, in which he was born, has lived, and wishes +to die; offering to make all necessary declarations, all requisite +protestations, in public or private, submitting himself absolutely +to all the rules of the Church, for the edification of Catholics and +Protestants. All this was a mere piece of mystification and fun. He +pretended to be too sick to go to the church, and made a Capuchin come +and administer the eucharist to him in bed; Voltaire saying, "Having +my God in my mouth, I declare that I forgive all my enemies." No +wonder that with all his marvelous ability and his long war upon the +Catholic Church he was unable to make any lasting impression upon it. +Talent is not enough to make revolutions of opinion. No serious faith +was ever destroyed by a jest. + +If we return to Rousseau, and compare his influence with that of +Voltaire, we shall find that it went far deeper. Voltaire was a man of +immense talent. Talent originates nothing, but formulates into masterly +expression what has come to it from the age in which it lives. Not +a new idea can be found, we believe, in all Voltaire's innumerable +writings. But genius has a vision of ideal truth. It is a prophet of +the future. Rousseau, with his many faults, weaknesses, follies, was +a man of genius. He was probably the most eloquent writer of French +prose who has ever appeared. He was a man possessed by his ideas. He +had none of the adroitness, wit, ingenuity, of Voltaire. Instead of +amassing an enormous fortune, he supported himself by copying music. +Instead of being surrounded by admirers and flatterers, he led a +solitary life, alone with his ideas. Instead of denying the authorship +of his works, and so giving an excuse to the authorities to leave him +quiet, he put his name to his writings. He worked for his bread with +his hands, and in his "Emile" he recommended that all boys should be +taught some manual craft. Voltaire ridiculed the _gentleman carpenter_ +of Rousseau; but before that generation passed away, many a French +nobleman had reason to lament that he had not been taught to use the +saw and the plane. + +If Voltaire belonged to the eighteenth century, and brought to a +brilliant focus its scattered rays, Rousseau belonged more to the +nineteenth. Amidst the _persiflage_, the mockery, the light and easy +philosophy, of his day, he stood, "among them, but not of them, in a +crowd of thoughts which were not their thoughts." This is the true +explanation of his weakness and strength, and of the intense dislike +felt for him by Voltaire and the school of Voltaire. They belonged to +their time, Rousseau to a coming time. + +The eighteenth century, especially in France, was one in which nature +was at its minimum and art at its maximum. All was art. But art +separated from nature becomes artificial, not to say artful. Decorum +was the law in morals; the _bienséances_ and _convenances_ ruled in +society. The stage was bound by conventional rules. Poetry walked +in silk attire, and made its toilette with the elaborate dignity of +the _levée_ of the Grand Monarque. Against all this Rousseau led the +reaction--the reaction inevitable as destiny. As art had been pushed +to an extreme, so now naturalism was carried to the opposite extreme. +Rousseau was the apostle of nature in all things. Children were to be +educated by the methods of nature, not according to the routine of old +custom. Governments were to go back to their origin in human nature; +society was to be reorganized on first principles. This voice crying in +the wilderness was like the trumpet of doom to the age, announcing the +age to come. It laid the axe at the root of the tree. Its outcome was +the French Revolution, that rushing, mighty flood, which carried away +the throne, the aristocracy, the manners, laws, and prejudices of the +past. + +In his first great work, the work which startled Europe, Rousseau +recalled man to himself. He said, "The true philosophy is to commune +with one's self,"--the greatest saying, thinks Henri Martin, that had +been pronounced in that century. Rousseau condemned luxury, and uttered +a prophetic cry of woe over the tangled perplexities of the time. +"There is no longer a remedy, _unless through some great revolution, +almost as much to be feared as the evil it would cure,--which it is +blamable to desire, impossible to foresee_." + +"_Man is naturally good_," says Rousseau. Before the frightful words +"mine" and "thine" were invented, how could there have been, he asks, +any vices or crimes? He denounced all slavery, all inequality, all +forms of oppression. His writings were full of exaggeration, but, +says the French historian, "no sooner had he opened his lips than he +restored earnestness to the world." The same writer, after speaking +of the faults of the "Nouvelle Héloïse," adds that nevertheless "a +multitude of the letters of his 'Julie' are masterpieces of eloquence, +passion, and profundity; and the last portions are signalized by a +moral purity, a wisdom of views, and a religious elevation altogether +new in the France of the eighteenth century." Concerning "Emile," he +says, "It is the profoundest study of human nature in our language; it +was an ark of safety, launched by Providence on the waves of skepticism +and materialism. If Rousseau had been stricken out of the eighteenth +century, whither, we seriously ask, would the human mind have +drifted?"[43] + +The "Social Contract" appeared in 1762. In this work Rousseau swept +away by his powerful eloquence the arguments which placed sovereignty +elsewhere than in the hands of the people. This fundamental idea was +the seed corn which broke from the earth in the first Revolution, and +bears its ripe fruit in republican France to-day. D'Alembert, who +disliked Rousseau, said of "Emile" that "it placed him at the head of +all writers." The "Social Contract," illogical and unsound in many +things, yet tore down the whole framework of despotism. Van Laun, a +more recent historian, tells us that Rousseau was a man of the people, +who knew all their wants; that every vice he attacked was one that they +saw really present in their midst; that he "opened the flood-gates of +suppressed desires, which gushed forth, overwhelming a whole artificial +world." Villemain writes that the words of Rousseau, "descending like +a flame of fire, moved the souls of his contemporaries;" and that "his +books glow with an eloquence which can never pass away." Morley, to +whom Rousseau is essentially antipathic, says of the "Social Contract" +that its first words, "Man is born free, but is everywhere in chains," +thrilled two continents,--that it was the gospel of the Jacobins; and +the action of the convention in 1794 can be explained only by the +influence of Rousseau. He taught France to believe in a government of +the people, by the people, and for the people. Locke had already taught +this doctrine in England, where it produced no such violent outbreak, +because it encountered no such glaring abuses. + +Such is the striking contrast between these two greatest writers in +modern French literature. It is singular to observe their instinctive +antagonism in every point of belief and character. The merits of one +are precisely opposite to those of the other: their faults are equally +opposed. + +The events of Voltaire's life have been so often told that Mr. Parton +has not been able to add much to our knowledge of his biography. He +was born in 1694 and died in 1778, at the age of eighty-four, though +at his birth he was so feeble that those who believe that the world's +progress depends on the survival of the fittest would have thought +him not fit to be brought up. This was also the case with Goethe and +Walter Scott. His father was a notary, and the name Arouet had that +of Voltaire added to it, it being a name in his mother's family. This +affix was adopted by the lad when in the Bastille, at the age of +twenty-four. As a duck takes to water, so Voltaire took to his pen. In +his twelfth year he wrote verses addressed to the Dauphin, which so +pleased the famous Ninon de l'Enclos, then in her ninetieth year, that +she left the boy a legacy of two thousand francs. He went to a Jesuits' +school, and always retained a certain liking for the Jesuits. His +father wished to make him a notary, but he would "pen a stanza when he +should engross;" and the usual struggles between the paternal purpose +and the filial instinct ended, as usual, in the triumph of the latter. +He led a wild career for a time, in the society of dissipated abbès, +debauched noblemen, and women to whom pleasure was the only object. +Suspected of having written a lampoon on the death of Louis XIV., he +was sent to the Bastille, and came forth not only with a new name, +but with literature as his aim for the rest of his life. His first +play appeared on the stage in 1718, and from that time he continued to +write till his death. He traveled from the _château_ of one nobleman +to another, pouring out his satires and sarcasms through the press; +threatened by the angry rulers and priests who governed France, but +always escaping by some adroit manœuvre. In England he became a deist +and a mathematician. His views of Christ and Christianity were summed +up in a quatrain which may be thus translated. Speaking of Jesus, he +says,-- + + "His actions are holy, his ethics divine; + Into hearts which are wounded he pours oil and wine. + And if, through imposture, those truths are received, + It still is a blessing to be thus deceived." + +He lived many years at Cirey with the Marchioness of Châtelet; the +marquis, her husband, accepting the curious relation without any +objection. Then followed the still stranger episode of his residence +with Frederic the Great, their love quarrels and reconciliations. After +this friendship came to an end, Voltaire went to live near Geneva in +Switzerland, but soon bought another estate just out of Switzerland, +in France, and a third a short distance away, in the territory of +another power. Thus, if threatened in one state, he could easily pass +into another. Here he lived and worked till the close of his life, +an untiring writer. He was a man of infinite wit, kind-hearted, with +little malignity of any sort, wishing in the main to do good. His +violent attacks upon Christianity may be explained by the fact of the +corruptions of the Church which were around him. The Church of France +in that day, in its higher circles, was a persecuting Church, yet +without faith: greedy for wealth, living in luxury, careless of the +poor, and well deserving the attacks of Voltaire. That he could not +look deeper and see the need of religious institutions of a better sort +was his misfortune. + +This work is a storehouse of facts for the history of Voltaire and his +time. We do not think it will materially alter the judgment pronounced +on him by such critics as Carlyle, Morley, and the majority of French +writers in our day. Voltaire was a shining light in his age, but that +age has gone by, and can never return. + + + + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON[44] + +MATT. vi. 23.--_If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of +light._ + + +It is natural and fit that many pulpits to-day should take for their +theme the character and influence of the great thinker and poet who has +just left us; for every such soul is a new revelation of God's truth +and love. Each opens the gateway between our lower world of earthly +care and earthly pleasure into a higher heavenly world of spirit. Such +men lift our lives to a higher plane, and convince us that we, also, +belong to God, to eternity, to heaven. And few, in our day, have been +such mediators of heavenly things to mankind as Ralph Waldo Emerson. + +Last Sunday afternoon, when the town of Concord was mourning through +all its streets for the loss of its beloved and revered citizen; when +the humblest cottage had on its door the badge of sorrow; when great +numbers came from abroad to testify their affection and respect, that +which impressed me the most was the inevitable response of the human +heart to whatever is true and good. Cynics may tell us that men are +duped by charlatans, led by selfish demagogues, incapable of knowing +honor and truth when set before them; that they always stone their +prophets and crucify their saviors; that they have eyes, and do not +see; ears, and never hear. This is all true for a time; but inevitably, +by a law as sure as that which governs the movements of the planets, +the souls of men turn at last toward what is true, generous, and noble. +The prophets and teachers of the race may be stoned by one generation, +but their monuments are raised by the next. They are misunderstood and +misrepresented to-day, but to-morrow they become the accredited leaders +of their time. Jesus, who knew well that he would be rejected and +murdered by a people blind and deaf to his truth, also knew that this +truth would sooner or later break down all opposition, and make him +master and king of the world. "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men +unto me." + +Last Sunday afternoon, as the grateful procession followed their +teacher to his grave in the Concord cemetery, the harshness of our +spring seemed to relent, and Nature became tender toward him who had +loved her so well. I thought of his words, "The visible heavens and +earth sympathized with Jesus." The town where "the embattled farmers +stood;" where the musket was discharged which opened the War of the +Revolution--the gun of which Lafayette said, "It was the alarm-gun of +the world;" the town of Hawthorne's "Old Manse," and of his grave, now +that Emerson also sleeps in its quiet valley, has received an added +glory. It has become one of the "Meccas of the mind." + +Let me describe the mental and spiritual condition of New England +when Emerson appeared. Calvinism, with its rigorous dogmatism, was +slowly dying, and had been succeeded by a calm and somewhat formal +rationalism. Locke was still the master in the realm of thought; +Addison and Blair in literary expression. In poetry, the school of Pope +was engaged in conflict with that of Byron and his contemporaries. +Wordsworth had led the way to a deeper view of nature; but Wordsworth +could scarcely be called a popular writer. In theology a certain +literalism prevailed, and the doctrines of Christianity were inferred +from counting and weighing texts on either side. Not the higher reason, +with its intuition of eternal ideas, but the analytic understanding, +with its logical methods, was considered to be the ruler in the world +of thought. There was more of culture than of intellectual life, more +of good habits than of moral enthusiasm. Religion had become very +much of an external institution. Christianity consisted in holding +rational or orthodox opinions, going regularly to church, and listening +every Sunday to a certain number of prayers, hymns, and sermons. +These sermons, with some striking exceptions, were rather tame and +mechanical. In Boston, it is true, Buckminster had appeared,--that soul +of flame which soon wore to decay its weak body. The consummate orator +Edward Everett had followed him in Brattle Square pulpit. Above all, +Channing had looked, with a new spiritual insight, into the truths of +religion and morality. But still the mechanical treatment prevailed in +a majority of the churches of New England, and was considered, on the +whole, to be the wisest and safest method. There was an unwritten creed +of morals, literature, and social thought to which all were expected +to conform. There was little originality and much repetition. On all +subjects there were certain formulas which it was considered proper +to repeat. "Thou art a blessed fellow," says one of Shakespeare's +characters, "to think as other people think. Not a man's thought in the +world keeps the roadway better than thine." The thought of New England +kept the roadway. Of course, at all times a large part of the belief +of the community is derived from memory, custom, and imitation; but +in those days, if I remember them aright, it was regarded as a kind +of duty to think as every one else thought; a sort of delinquency, or +weakness, to differ from the majority. + +If the movements of thought are now much more independent and +spontaneous; if to-day traditions have lost their despotic power; if +even those who hold an orthodox creed are able to treat it as a dead +letter, respectable for its past uses, but by no means binding on us +now, this is largely owing to the manly position taken by Emerson. And +yet, let it be observed, this influence was not exercised by attacking +old opinions, by argument, by denial, by criticism. Theodore Parker +did all this, but his influence on thought has been far less than that +of Emerson. Parker was a hero who snuffed the battle afar off, and +flung himself, sword in hand, into the thick of the conflict. But, +much as we love and reverence his honesty, his immense activity, his +devotion to truth and right, we must admit to-day, standing by these +two friendly graves, that the power of Emerson to soften the rigidity +of time-hardened belief was far the greater. It is the old fable of +the storm and sun. The violent attacks of the tempest only made the +traveler cling more closely to his cloak; the genial heat of the sun +compelled him to throw it aside. In all Emerson's writings there is +scarcely any argument. He attacks no man's belief; he simply states +his own. His method is always positive, constructive. He opens the +windows and lets in more light. He is no man's opponent; the enemy +of no one. He states what he sees, and that which he does not see he +passes by. He was often attacked, but never replied. His answer was +to go forward, and say something else. He did not care for what he +called the "bugbear consistency." If to-day he said what seemed like +Pantheism, and to-morrow he saw some truth which seemed to reveal a +divine personality, a supreme will, he uttered the last, as he had +declared the first, always faithful to the light within. He left it to +the spirit of truth to reconcile such apparent contradictions. He was +like his own humble-bee-- + + "Seeing only what is fair, + Sipping only what is sweet; + Thou dost mock at fate and care, + Leave the chaff and take the wheat." + +By this method of positive statement he not only saved the time usually +wasted in argument, attack, reply, rejoinder, but he gave us the +substance of Truth, instead of its form. Logic and metaphysic reveal +no truths; they merely arrange in order what the higher faculties of +the mind have made known. Hence the speedy oblivion which descends on +polemics of all sorts. The great theological debaters, where are they? +The books of Horsley and McGee are buried in the same grave with those +of Belsham and Priestley, their old opponents. The bitter attacks on +Christianity by Voltaire and Paine are inurned in the same dark and +forgotten vaults with the equally bitter defenses of Christianity by +its numerous champions. Argument may often be necessary, but no truth +is slain by argument; no error can be kept alive by it. Emerson is an +eminent example of a man who never replied to attacks, but went on +his way, and saw at last all opposition hushed, all hostility at an +end. He devoted his powers to giving to his readers his insights, +knowing that these alone feed the soul. Thus men came to him to be +fed. His sheep heard his voice. Those who felt themselves better +for his instruction followed him. He collected around him thus an +ever-increasing band of disciples, until in England, in Germany, in all +lands where men read and think, he is looked up to as a master. Many of +these disciples were persons of rare gifts and powers, like Margaret +Fuller, Theodore Parker, George Ripley, Hawthorne. Many others were +unknown to fame, yet deeply sensible of the blessings they had received +from their prophet and seer of the nineteenth century. For this was his +office. He was a man who saw. He had the vision and the faculty divine. +He sat near the fountain-head, and tasted the waters of Helicon in +their source. + +His first little book, a duodecimo of less than a hundred pages, called +"Nature," published in 1836, indicates all these qualities. It begins +thus:-- + +"Our age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres of the fathers. It +writes biographies, histories, criticisms. The foregoing generations +beheld God and Nature face to face; we, through their eyes. Why should +not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe? Why should not +we have a poetry and philosophy of insight, and not of tradition, and +a religion by revelation to us, and not the history of theirs?... The +sun shines to-day also.... Undoubtedly we have no questions to ask +which are unanswerable." + +This was his first doctrine, that of self-reliance. He taught that +God had given to every man the power to see with his own eyes, think +with his own mind, believe what seemed to him true, plant himself on +his instincts, and, as he says, "call a pop-gun a pop-gun, though +the ancient and honorable of the earth declare it to be the crack of +doom." This was manly and wholesome doctrine. It might, no doubt, be +abused, and lead some persons to think they were men of original genius +when they were only eccentric. It may have led others to attack all +institutions and traditions, as though, if a thing were old, it was +necessarily false. But Emerson himself was the best antidote to such +extravagance. To a youth who brought to him a manuscript confuting +Plato he replied, "When you attack the king you ought to be sure to +kill him." But his protest against the prevailing conventionalism was +healthy, and his call on all "to be themselves" was inspiring. + +The same doctrine is taught in the introductory remarks of the editors +of the "Dial." They say they have obeyed with joy the strong current of +thought which has led many sincere persons to reprobate that rigor of +conventions which is turning them to stone, which renounces hope and +only looks backward, which suspects improvement, and holds nothing so +much in horror as the dreams of youth. This work, the "Dial," made a +great impression, out of all proportion to its small circulation. By +the elders it was cordially declared to be unintelligible mysticism, +and so, no doubt, much of it was. Those inside, its own friends, often +made as much fun of it as those outside. Yet it opened the door for +many new and noble thoughts, and was a wild bugle-note, a reveillé, +calling on all generous hearts to look toward the coming day. + +Here is an extract from one of Emerson's letters from Europe as early +as March, 1833. It is dated Naples:-- + +"And what if it be Naples! It is only the same world of cakes and ale, +of man, and truth, and folly. I will not be imposed upon by a name. +It is so easy to be overawed by names that it is hard to keep one's +judgment upright, and be pleased only after your own way. Baiæ and +Pausilippo sound so big that we are ready to surrender at discretion, +and not stickle for our private opinion against what seems the human +race. But here's for the plain old Adam, the simple, genuine self +against the whole world." + +Again he says: "Nothing so fatal to genius as genius. Mr. Taylor, +author of 'Van Artevelde,' is a man of great intellect, but by study of +Shakespeare is forced to reproduce Shakespeare." + +Thus the first great lesson taught by Mr. Emerson was "self-reliance." +And the second was like it, though apparently opposed to it, +"God-reliance." Not really opposed to it, for it meant this: God is +near to your mind and heart, as he was to the mind and heart of the +prophets and inspired men of the past. God is ready to inspire you also +if you will trust in him. In the little book called "Nature" he says:-- + +"The highest is present to the soul of man; the dread universal +essence, which is not wisdom, or love, or power, or beauty, but all +in one, and each entirely, is that for which all things exist, and +by which they are. Believe that throughout nature spirit is present; +that it is one, that it does not act upon us from without, but through +ourselves.... As a plant on the earth, so man rests on the bosom +of God, nourished by unfailing fountains, and drawing at his need +inexhaustible power." + +And so in his poem called "The Problem" he teaches that all religions +are from God; that all the prophets and sibyls and lofty souls that +have sung psalms, written scripture, and built the temples and +cathedrals of men, were inspired by a spirit above their own. He puts +aside the shallow explanation that any of the great religions ever came +from priestcraft:-- + + "Out from the heart of Nature rolled + The burdens of the Bible old; + The litanies of nations came, + Like the volcano's tongue of flame, + Up from the burning core below, + The canticles of love and woe. + + "The word unto the prophet spoken + Was writ on tables yet unbroken; + The word by seers or sibyls told, + In groves of oak or fanes of gold, + Still floats upon the moving wind, + Still whispers to the willing mind. + One accent of the Holy Ghost + The heedless world hath never lost." + +In all that Emerson says of nature he is equally devout. He sees God +in it all. It is to him full of a divine charm. "In the woods," he +says, "is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God a decorum +and sanctity reigns, and we return to reason and faith." "The currents +of the Universal Being circulate through me. I am part and particle of +God." For saying such things as these he was accused of Pantheism. And +he was a Pantheist; yet only as Paul was a Pantheist when he said, "In +Him we live and move and have our being;" "From whom and through whom +are all things;" "The fullness of him who filleth all in all." Emerson +was, in his view of nature, at one with Wordsworth, who said:-- + + "The clouds were touched, + And in their silent faces he could read + Unutterable love. Sensation, soul, and form + All melted into him; they swallowed up + His animal being; in them did he live, + And by them did he live; they were his life. + In such high hour + Of visitation from the living God, + Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired." + +Emerson has thus been to our day the prophet of God in the soul, in +nature, in life. He has stood for spirit against matter. Darwin, his +great peer, the serene master in the school of science, was like him +in this,--that he also said what he saw and no more. He also taught +what God showed to him in the outward world of sense, as Emerson what +God showed in the inward world of spirit. Amid the stormy disputes of +their time, each of these men went his own way, his eye single and his +whole body full of light. The work of Darwin was the easier, for he +floated with the current of the time, which sets at present so strongly +toward the study of things seen and temporal. But the work of Emerson +was more noble, for he stands for things unseen and eternal,--for a +larger religion, a higher faith, a nobler worship. This strong and +tender soul has done its work and gone on its way. But he will always +fill a niche of the universal Church as a New England prophet. He had +the purity of the New England air in his moral nature, a touch of the +shrewd Yankee wit in his speech, and the long inheritance of ancestral +faith incarnate and consolidated in blood and brain. But to this were +added qualities which were derived from some far-off realm of human +life: an Oriental cast of thought, a touch of mediæval mysticism, and +a vocabulary brought from books unknown to our New England literature. +No commonplaces of language are to be found in his writings, and though +he read the older writers, he does not imitate them. He, also, like +his humble-bee, has gathered contributions from remotest fields, and +enriched our language with a new and picturesque speech all his own. + +Let us, then, be grateful for this best of God's gifts,--another soul +sent to us filled with divine light. Thus we learn anew how full are +nature and life of God:-- + + "Ever fresh the broad creation, + A divine improvisation; + From the heart of God proceeds + A single will, a million deeds." + +One word concerning Mr. Emerson's relation to Christ and to +Christianity. The distinction which he made between Jesus and other +teachers was, no doubt, one of degree and not one of kind. He put no +great gulf of supernatural powers, origin, or office between Christ +and the ethnic prophets. But his reverence for Jesus was profound and +tender. Nor did he object to the word "Christian" or to the Christian +Church. In recent years, at least, he not unfrequently attended the +services of the Unitarian Church in his town, and I have met him at +Unitarian conventions, a benign and revered presence. + +In the cemetery at Bonn, on the Rhine, is the tomb of Niebuhr, the +historian, a man of somewhat like type, as I judge, to our Emerson. At +least, some texts on his monument would be admirably appropriate for +any stone which may be placed over the remains of the American prophet +and poet in the sweet valley of tombs in Concord. + +One of these texts was from Sirach xlvii. 14, 17: + + "How wise wast thou in thy youth, and as a flood filled with + understanding! + Thy soul covered the whole earth, and thou filledst it with dark + parables. + Thy name went far unto the islands, and for thy peace thou wast + beloved. + The countries marvelled at thee for thy songs and proverbs and + parables and interpretations." + +And equally appropriate would be this Horatian line, also on Niebuhr's +monument:-- + + "Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam cari capitis." + +From a lifelong friend of Emerson I have just received a letter +containing these words, which, better than most descriptions, give the +character of his soul:-- + +"And so the white wings have spread, and the great soul has left us. + + ''Tis death is dead; not he.' + +He had no vanity, no selfishness; no greed, no hate; none of the +weights that drag on common mortals. His life was an illumination; a +large, fair light; the Pharos of New England, as in other days our dear +brother called him. And this light shone further and wider the longer +it burned." + + + + +HARRIET MARTINEAU[45] + + +The whole work[46] is very interesting. How could it be otherwise, in +giving the history of so remarkable a life? The amount of literary work +which Miss Martineau performed is amazing. She began to write for the +press when she was nineteen, and continued until she could no longer +hold her pen. The pen was her sword, which she wielded with a warrior's +joy, in the conflict of truth with error, of right with wrong. She +wrote many books; but her articles in reviews and newspapers were +innumerable. We find no attempt in either part of this biography to +give a complete list of her writings. Perhaps it would be impossible. +She never seems to have thought of keeping such a record herself, any +more than a hero records the number of the blows he strikes, in battle. +No sooner had she dismissed one task than another came; and sometimes +several were going on together. Like other voluminous writers, she +enjoyed the exercise of her productive powers; and, as she somewhere +tells us, her happiest hours were those in which she was seated at her +desk with her pen. + +Her principal works cover a large range of thought and study. One of +her first books, "The Traditions of Palestine," she continued to regard +long after with more affection than any other of her writings, except +"Eastern Life." But her authorship began when she was nineteen, in an +article contributed to a Unitarian monthly. Afterwards she obtained +three separate prizes offered by the Central Unitarian Association +for three essays on different topics. About the same time she wrote +"Five Years of Youth," a tale which she never looked at afterward. But +her first great step in authorship, and that which at once made her a +power in politics and in literature, was taken when she commenced her +series of tales on "Political Economy." She began, however, to write +these stories, not knowing that she was treating questions of Political +Economy, "the very name of which," she says, "was then either unknown +to me, or conveyed no meaning." She was then about twenty-five years +old. She had the usual difficulties with various publishers which +unknown authors are sure to experience, and these tales, which became +so popular, were rejected by one firm after another. One of them was +refused by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, as being +too dull. The president of that Society, Lord Brougham, afterward +vented his rage on the sub-committee which rejected the offered story, +and so had permitted their Society, "instituted for that very purpose, +to be driven out of the field by a little deaf woman at Norwich." +At last a publisher was found who agreed to take the books on very +unsatisfactory terms. As soon as the first number appeared, the success +of the series was established. A second edition of five thousand copies +was immediately called for,--the entire periodical press came out in +favor of the tales,--and from that hour Miss Martineau had only to +choose what to write, sure that it would at once find a publisher. + +She was at this time thirty years old. She was already deaf, her health +poor; but she then began a career of intellectual labor seldom equaled +by the strongest man through the longest life. She began to write every +morning after breakfast; and, unless when traveling, seldom passed a +morning during the rest of her life without writing,--working from +eight o'clock until two. Her method was, after selecting her subject, +to procure all the standard works upon it, and study them. She then +proceeded to make the plan of her work, and to draw the outline of her +story. If the scene was laid abroad, she procured books of travels and +topography. Then she drew up the contents of each chapter in detail, +and, after this preliminary labor, the story was written easily and +with joy. + +Of these stories she wrote thirty-four in two years and a half. She +was then thirty-two. She received £2,000 for the whole series,--a +sufficiently small compensation,--but she established her position +and her fame. Her principal books published afterward were her two +works on America, the novels "Deerbrook" and "The Hour and the Man;" +nine volumes of tales on the Forest and Game Laws; four stories in the +"Playfellow;" "Life in the Sick-Room;" "Letters on Mesmerism;" "Eastern +Life, Past and Present;" "History of England during the Thirty Years' +Peace;" "Letters on the Laws of Man's Social Nature and Development;" +"Translation and Condensation of Comte's Positive Philosophy;" besides +many smaller works, making fifty-two titles in Allibone. In addition +to this, she wrote many articles in reviews and magazines; and Mrs. +Chapman mentions that she sent to a single London journal, the "Daily +News," sixteen hundred articles, at the rate sometimes of six a week. +Surely Harriet Martineau was one who worked faithfully while her day +endured. + +But, if we would do her justice, we must consider also the motive and +spirit in which she worked. Each thing she did had for its purpose +nothing merely personal, but some good to mankind. Though there was +nothing in her character of the sentimentalism of philanthropy, she was +filled with the spirit of philanthropy. A born reformer, she inherited +from her Huguenot and her Unitarian ancestors the love of truth and the +hatred of error, with the courage which was ready to avow her opinions, +however unpopular. Thus, her work was warfare, and every article or +book which she printed was a blow delivered against some flagrant +wrong, or what she believed such,--in defense of some struggling truth, +or something supposed to be truth. She might be mistaken; but her +purposes through life were, in the main, noble, generous, and good. + +And there can be no question of her ability, moral and intellectual. +No commonplace mind could have overcome such obstacles and achieved +such results. Apparently she had no very high opinion of her own +intellectual powers. She denies that she possesses genius; but +she asserts her own power. She criticises "Deerbrook" with some +severity. And, in fact, Harriet Martineau's mind is analytic rather +than creative; it is strong rather than subtle; and, if it possesses +imagination, it is of rather a prosaic kind. Her intellect is of +a curiously masculine order; no other female writer was ever less +feminine. With all her broad humanity she has little sympathy for +individuals. A large majority of those whom she mentions in her memoirs +she treats with a certain contempt. + +Her early life seems to have been very sad. We are again and again +told how she was misunderstood and maltreated in her own home. Her +health was bad until she was thirty; partly owing, as she supposed, to +ill-treatment. She needed affection, and was treated with sternness. +Justice she did not receive, nor kindness, and her heart was soured +and her temper spoiled, so she tells us, by this mismanagement. As she +does not specify, or give us the details of this ill-treatment, the +story is useless as a warning; and we hardly see the reason for thus +publishing the wrongs of her childhood. As children may be sometimes +unjust to parents, no less than parents to children, the facts and the +moral are both left uncertain. And, on the whole, her chief reason for +telling the story appears to be the mental necessity she was under of +judging and sentencing those from whom she supposes herself to have +received ill-treatment in any part of her life. + +This is indeed the most painful feature of the work before us. Knowing +the essentially generous and just spirit of Harriet Martineau, it is +strange to see how carefully she has loaded this piece of artillery +with explosive and lacerating missiles, to be discharged after her +death among those with whom she had mingled in social intercourse or +literary labors. Some against whom she launches her sarcasms are still +living; some are dead, but have left friends behind, to be wounded +by her caustic judgments. Is it that her deficiency in a woman's +sensibility, or the absence of a poetic imagination, prevented her from +realizing the suffering she would inflict? Or is it the habit of mind +from which those are apt to suffer who devote themselves to the reform +of abuses? As each kind of manual occupation exposes the workman to +some special disease,--as those who dig canals suffer from malaria, +and file-grinders from maladies of the lungs,--so it seems that each +moral occupation has its appropriate moral danger. Clergymen are apt +to be dogmatic or sectarian; lawyers become sharp and sophistical; +musicians and artists are irritable; and the danger of a reformer is of +becoming a censorious critic of those who cannot accept his methods, or +who will not join his party. That Harriet Martineau did not escape this +risk will presently appear. + +While writing her politico-economical stories she moved to London, +and there exchanged the quiet seclusion of her Norwich life for +social triumphs of the first order, and intercourse with every kind +of celebrity. All had read her books, from Victoria, who was then a +little girl perusing them with her governess, to foreign kings and +savants of the highest distinction. So this young author--for she was +only thirty--was received at once into the most brilliant circles of +London society. But it does not appear that she lost a single particle +of her dignity or self-possession. Among the great she neither asserted +herself too much nor showed too much deference. Vanity was not her +foible; and her head was too solidly set upon her shoulders to be +turned by such successes. She enjoyed the society of these people of +superior refinement, rank, and culture, but did not come to depend upon +it; and in all this Harriet Martineau sinned not in her spirit. + +But why, in writing about these people long afterward, should she have +thought it necessary to produce such sharp and absolute sentences on +each and all? Into this judgment-hall of Osiris-Martineau, every one +whom she has ever known is called up to receive his final doom. The +poor Unitarian ministers, who had taught the child as they best could, +are dismissed with contemptuous severity. This religious instruction +had certainly done her some good. Religion, she admits, was her best +resource till she wrought her way to something better. Ann Turner, +daughter of the Unitarian minister, gave her piety a practical turn, +and when afraid of every one she saw, she was not at all afraid of God; +and, on the whole, she says religion was a great comfort and pleasure +to her. Nevertheless, she is astonished that Unitarians should believe +that they are giving their children a Christian education. She accuses +these teachers of her childhood of altering the Scripture to suit their +own notions; being apparently ignorant that most of the interpolations +or mistranslations of which they complained have since been conceded +as such by the best Orthodox critics. But she does not hesitate to +give her opinion of all her old acquaintances in the frankest manner, +and for the most part it is unfavorable. Mrs. Opie and Mrs. John +Taylor are among the "mere pedants." William Taylor, from want of +truth and conviction, talked blasphemy. She speaks with contempt of a +physician who politely urged her to come and dine with him, because +he had neglected her until she became famous. Lord Brougham was +"vain and selfish, low in morals, and unrestrained in temper." Lord +Campbell was "flattering to an insulting degree;" Archbishop Whately, +"odd and overbearing," "sometimes rude and tiresome," and "singularly +overrated;" Stanley, Bishop of Norwich, "timid," "sensitive," +"heedless," "without courage or dignity." Macaulay "talked nonsense" +about the copyright bill, and "set at naught every principle of +justice in regard to authors' earnings." Macaulay's opposition to that +bill was based on such grounds of perfect justice that he defeated +it single-handed. But Harriet Martineau decided then and there that +Macaulay was a failure, and that "he wanted heart," and that he "never +has achieved any complete success." The poet Campbell had "a morbid +craving for praise." As to women, Lady Morgan, Lady Davy, Mrs. Jameson, +Mrs. Austin, "may make women blush and men be insolent" with their +"gross and palpable vanities." Landseer was a toady to great people. +Morpeth had "evident weaknesses." Sir Charles Bell showed his ignorance +by relying on the argument for Design. The resources of Eastlake were +very _bornés_. John Sterling "rudely ignored me." Lady Mary Shepherd +was "a pedant." Coleridge, she asserts, will only be remembered as a +warning; though twenty years ago she, Miss Martineau, "regarded him +as a poet." Godwin was "timid." Basil Montagu was "cowardly;" and Lord +Monteagle "agreeable enough to those who were not particular about +sincerity." Urquhart had "insane egotism and ferocious discontent." The +Howitts made "an unintelligible claim to my friendship," their "tempers +are turbulent and unreasonable." It may be some explanation of this +unintelligible claim that it was heard through her trumpet. Fredrika +Bremer is accused of habits of "flattery" and "a want of common sense." +Miss Mitford is praised, but then accused of a "habit of flattery," +and blamed for her "disparagement of others." And it is Miss Martineau +who brings this charge! She also tells us that Miss Bremer "proposes +to reform the world by a floating religiosity," whatever that may be. +But perhaps her severest sentence is pronounced on the Kembles, who +are accused of "incurable vulgarity" and "unreality." In this case, +as in others, Miss Martineau pronounces this public censure on those +whom she had learned to know in the intimacy of private friendship and +personal confidence. She thus violates the rules rather ostentatiously +laid down in her Introduction. For she claims there that she practices +self-denial in interdicting the publication of her letters,[47] and +gives her reasons thus: "Epistolary conversation is written speech; +and the _onus_ rests with those who publish it to show why the laws of +honor, which are uncontested in regard to conversation, may be violated +when the conversation is written instead of spoken." Most of her sharp +judgments above quoted are pronounced on those whom she learned to +know in the private intercourse of society. Sometimes she recites the +substance of what she heard (or supposed that she heard; for she used +an ear-tube when she first went to live in London). Thus she tells +about a conversation with Wordsworth, and reports his complaints of +Jeffrey and other reviewers, and quotes him as saying about one of his +own poems, that it was "a chain of very _valooable_ thoughts." "You +see, it does not best fulfill the conditions of poetry; but it is" +(solemnly) "a chain of extremely valooable thoughts." She then proceeds +to pronounce her sentence on Wordsworth as she did on Coleridge. She +felt at once, she says, in Wordsworth's works, "the absence of sound, +accurate, weighty thought, and of genuine poetic inspiration." She +also informs us that "the very basis of philosophy is absent in him," +and that it is only necessary "to open Shelley, Tennyson, or even poor +Keats ... to feel that, with all their truth and all their charm, few +of Wordsworth's pieces are poems." "_Even poor Keats!_" This is her +_de haut en bas_ style of criticism on Wordsworth, one of whose poems +is generally accepted as the finest written in the English language +during the last hundred years. And this is her way of respecting "the +code of honor" in regard to private conversation! + +In 1834, at the age of thirty-two, Harriet Martineau sailed for the +United States, where she remained two years. She went for rest; but +the quantity of work done in those two years would have been enough +to fill five or six years of any common life. At this point she began +a new career; forming new ties, engaging in new duties, studying new +problems, and beginning a new activity in another sphere of labor. The +same great qualities which she had hitherto displayed showed themselves +here again; accompanied with their corresponding defects. Her wonderful +power of study enabled her to enter into the very midst of the +phenomena of American life; her noble generosity induced her to throw +herself heart, hand, and mind into the greatest struggle then waging +on the face of the earth. The antislavery question, which the great +majority of people of culture despised or disliked, took possession +of her soul. She became one of the party of Abolitionists, of which +Mr. Garrison was the chief, and lived to see that party triumph in the +downfall of slavery. She took her share of the hatred or the scorn +heaped on that fiery body of zealous propagandists, and was counted +worthy of belonging to what she herself called "the Martyr Age of the +United States." + +Fortunately for herself, before she visited Boston, and became +acquainted with the Abolitionists, she went to Washington, and traveled +somewhat extensively in the Southern States. At Washington she saw many +eminent Southern senators, who cordially invited her to visit them at +their homes. In South Carolina she was welcomed or introduced by Mr. +Calhoun, Governor Hayne, and Colonel Preston. Judge Porter took charge +of her in Louisiana. In Kentucky she was the guest of Mrs. Irwin, Henry +Clay's daughter and neighbor. Without fully accepting Mrs. Chapman's +somewhat sweeping assertion that there was no eminent statesman, man +of science, politician, partisan, philanthropist, jurist, professor, +merchant, divine, nor distinguished woman, in the whole land, who did +not pay her homage, there is no doubt that she received the respect +and good-will of many such. She was deeply impressed, she says, on +arriving in the United States, with a society basking in one bright +sunshine of good-will. She thought the New Englanders, perhaps, the +best people in the world. Many well-known names appear in these pages, +as soon becoming intimate acquaintances or friends; among these were +Judge Story, John G. Palfrey, Stephen C. Phillips, the Gilmans of South +Carolina, Mr. and Mrs. Furness of Philadelphia, and in Massachusetts +the Sedgwicks, the Follens, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray Loring, Mr. and +Mrs. Charles G. Loring, Dr. Channing, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Ware, Dr. +Flint of Salem, and Ephraim Peabody. + +When Miss Martineau had identified herself with Mr. Garrison and his +friends by taking part in their meetings, those who had merely sought +her on account of her position and reputation naturally fell away. But +it may be doubted whether she was in such danger of being mobbed or +murdered as she and her editor suppose. She seems to think that Mr. +Henry Ware did a very brave deed in driving to Mr. Francis Jackson's +house to take her home from an antislavery meeting. She speaks of +the reign of terror which existed in Boston at that time. No doubt +she, and other Abolitionists, had their share of abuse; but it is not +probable that any persons were, as she thought, plotting against her +life. She and her friends were deterred from taking a proposed journey +to Cincinnati and Louisville by being informed that it was intended +to mob her in the first city and to hang her in the second. Now, the +writer of this article was at that time residing in Louisville, and +though antislavery discussions and antislavery lectures had taken +place there about that period, and though antislavery articles not +unfrequently appeared in the city journals, no objection or opposition +was made to all this by anybody in that place. In fact, it was easier +at that time to speak against slavery in Louisville than in Boston. The +leading people in Kentucky of all parties were then openly opposed +to slavery, and declared their hope and purpose of making Kentucky a +free State. A year later, Dr. Channing published his work on slavery, +which was denounced for its abolitionism by the "Boston Statesman," and +sharply criticised in a pamphlet by the Massachusetts attorney-general. +But copious extracts from this work, especially of the parts which +exposed the sophisms of the defenders of slavery, were published in +a Louisville magazine, and not the least objection was made to it in +that city. At a later period it might have been different, though an +antislavery paper was published in Louisville as late as 1845, one of +the editors being a native Kentuckian. + +After her return from the United States she published her two works, +"Society in America," and "Retrospect of Western Travel;" and then +wrote her first novel, "Deerbrook." The books on America were perhaps +the best then written by any foreigner except De Tocqueville. They +were generous, honest, kind, and utterly frank,--they were full of +capital descriptions of American scenery. She spoke the truth to us, +and she spoke it in love. The chief fault in these works was her tone +of dogmatism, and her _ex cathedrâ_ judgments; which, as we have before +hinted, are among the defects of her qualities. + +In 1838, when thirty-six years old, she was taken with serious illness, +which confined her to her room for six years. She attributes this +illness to her anxiety about her aged aunt and mother. Her mother, +she tells us, was irritable on account of Miss Martineau's fame and +position in society; in short, she was jealous of her daughter's +success. Miss Martineau was obliged to sit up late after midnight to +mend her own clothes, as she was not allowed to have a maid or to hire +a working-woman, even at her own expense. How she could have been +prevented is difficult to see, especially as she was the money-making +member of the family. It seems hardly worth while to give us this +glimpse into domestic difficulties. But, no doubt, she is quite correct +in adding, as another reason for her illness, the toils which were +breaking her down. The strongest men could hardly bear such a strain on +the nervous system without giving way. + +And here comes in the important episode of Mr. Atkinson, mesmerism, +and the New Philosophy. She believes that she was cured of a disease, +pronounced incurable by the regular physicians, by mesmerism. By this +she means the influence exerted upon her by certain manipulations +from another person. And as long as we are confessedly so ignorant +of nervous diseases, there seems no reason to question the facts to +which Miss Martineau testifies. She was, there is little doubt, cured +by these manipulations; what the power was which wrought through them +remains to be ascertained. + +In regard to Mr. Atkinson and his philosophy, accepted by her with +such satisfaction, and which henceforth became the master-light of +all her seeing, our allotted space will allow us only to speak very +briefly. The results of this new mental departure could not but disturb +and afflict many of her friends, to whom faith in God, Christ, and +immortality was still dear. To Miss Martineau herself, however, her +disbelief in these seemed a happy emancipation. She carried into the +assertion of her new and unpopular ideas the same honesty and courage +she had always shown, and also the same superb dogmatism and contempt +for those who differed from her. Apparently it was always to her an +absolute impossibility to imagine herself wrong when she had once +come to a conclusion. In theory she might conceive it possible to be +mistaken, but practically she felt herself infallible. The following +examples will show how she speaks, throughout her biography, of those +who held the opinions she had rejected. + +Miss Martineau, being a Necessarian, says, "All the best minds I know +are Necessarians; all, indeed, who are qualified to discuss the subject +at all." "The very smallest amount of science is enough to enable any +rational being to see that the constitution and action of will are +determined by the influences beyond the control of the possessor of +the faculty." She adds, that for more than thirty years she has seen +how awful "are the evils which arise from that monstrous remnant of +old superstition,--the supposition of a self-determining power, etc." +Now, among those she had intimately known were Dr. Channing and James +Martineau, neither of them believing in the doctrine of Necessity. + +Speaking of Christianity, after she had rejected it, she calls it +"a monstrous superstition." Elsewhere she speaks of "the Christian +superstition of the contemptible nature of the body;" says that +"Christians deprave their moral sense;" talks of "the selfish +complacencies of religion," and of "the atmosphere of selfishness which +is the very life of Christian doctrine and of every other theological +scheme;" speaks of "the Christian mythology as a superstition which +fails to make happy, fails to make good, fails to make wise, and +has become as great an obstacle in the way of progress as the prior +mythologies it took the place of." "For three centuries it has been +undermined, and its overthrow completely decided." Thus easily does she +settle the question of Christianity. + +Miss Martineau ceased to believe in immortality; and immediately all +believers in immortality became, to her mind, selfish or stupid, or +both. "I neither wish to live longer here," she says, "nor to find +life again elsewhere. It seems to me simply absurd to expect it, and +a mere act of restricted human imagination and morality to conceive +of it." There is "a total absence of evidence for a renewed life." +"I myself utterly disbelieve in a future life." She would submit, +though reluctantly, to live again, if compelled to. "If I find myself +conscious after the lapse of life, it will be all right, of course; +but, as I said, the supposition appears to me absurd." + +Under the instructions of Mr. Atkinson, Miss Martineau ceased to +believe in a personal God, or any God but an unknown First Cause, +identical with the Universe. The argument for Design, on which Mr. John +Stuart Mill, for instance, lays such stress, seemed to her "puerile +and unphilosophical." The God of Christians she calls an "invisible +idol." He "who does justice to his own faculties" must give up "the +personality of the First Cause." She considered the religion in her +"Life in the Sick-Room" to have been "insincere;" which we, who know +the perfect honesty of Harriet Martineau, must take the liberty to +deny. Though declaring herself to be no Atheist, because she believes +in an unknown and unknowable First Cause, she regards philosophical +Atheists as the best people she had ever known, and was delighted in +finding herself unacquainted with God, and so at peace. + +It is curious to read these "Letters on the Laws of Man's Nature and +Development," of which Harriet Martineau and Mr. Atkinson are the joint +authors. The simple joy with which they declare themselves the proud +discoverers of this happy land of the unknowable is almost touching. +All that we know, say they, is matter or its manifestation. "Mind +is the product of the brain," and "the brain is not, as even some +phrenologists have asserted, the instrument of the mind." The brain +is the source of consciousness, will, reason. Man is "a creature of +necessity." "It seems certain that mind, or the conditions essential +to mind, is evolved from gray vesicular matter." "Nothing in nature +indicates a future life." "Knowledge recognizes that nothing can be +free, or by chance; no, not even God,--God is the substance of Law." +Whereupon Miss Martineau inquires whether Mr. Atkinson, in speaking of +God, did not merely use another name for Law. "We know nothing beyond +law, do we?" asks this meek disciple, seeking for information. Mr. +Atkinson replies that we must assume some fundamental principle "as a +thing essential, though unknown; and it is this which I wrongly enough +perhaps termed God." But if it is wrong to call this principle God, +and if they know nothing else behind phenomena, why do they complain +so bitterly at being charged with Atheism? And directly Mr. Atkinson +asserts that "Philosophy finds no God in nature; no personal being or +creator, nor sees the want of any." "A Creator after the likeness of +man" he affirms to be "an impossibility." For, though he professes to +know _nothing_ about God, he somehow contrives to know that God is +_not_ what others believe him to be. Eternal sleep after death he +professes to be the only hope of a wise man. The idea of free-will +is so absurd that it "would make a Democritus fall on his back and +roar with laughter." "Christianity is neither reasonable nor moral." +Miss Martineau responds that "deep and sweet" is her repose in the +conviction that "there is no theory of God, of an author of Nature, +of an origin of the Universe, which is not utterly repugnant to my +faculties; which is not (to my feelings) so irreverent as to make me +blush, so misleading as to make me mourn." And thus do the apostle and +the disciple go on, triumphantly proclaiming their own limitations to +the end of the volume. + +And yet the effect of this book is by no means wholly disagreeable. To +be sure, in their constant assertions of the "impossibility" of any +belief but their own being true, their honest narrowness may often be +a little amusing. They seem like two eyeless fish in the recesses of +the darkness of the Mammoth Cave talking to each other of the absurdity +of believing in any sun or upper world. But they are so honest, so +sincere, so much in love with Truth, and so free from any self-seeking, +that we find it easy to sympathize with their naïve sense of discovery, +as they go sounding on their dim and perilous way. Only we cannot +but think what a disappointment it must be to Harriet Martineau to +find herself alive again in the other world. In her case, as Mr. +Wentworth Higginson acutely remarks, we are deprived of the pleasure +of sympathizing with her gladness at discovering her mistake, since +another life will be to her a disagreeable as well as an unforeseen +event. + +Nor is it extraordinary, to those who trace Harriet Martineau's +intellectual history, that she should have fallen into these melancholy +conclusions. In her childhood and youth, most of the Unitarians of +England, followers of Priestley, adopted his philosophy of materialism +and necessity. Priestley did not believe in a soul, but trusted for +a future life to the resurrection of the body. He was also a firm +believer in philosophical necessity. An active and logical mind like +Miss Martineau's, destitute of the keenness and profundity which +belonged to that of her brother James, might very naturally arrive at +a disbelief in anything but matter and its phenomena. From ignorance +of these facts, Mrs. Chapman expresses surprise that the inconsistency +of Harriet Martineau's belief in necessity, with other parts of +her Unitarianism, "should not have struck herself, her judges, or +the denomination at large." It _would_ have been inconsistent with +American Unitarianism, but it was not foreign from the views of English +Unitarians at that time. + +The publication of these "Letters" naturally caused pain to religious +people, and especially to those of them who had known and honored Miss +Martineau for her many past services in the cause of human freedom and +progress. Many of these were Unitarians and Unitarian ministers, who +had been long proud of her as a member of their denomination and one of +their most valued co-workers. It seemed necessary for them to declare +their dissent from her new views, and this dissent was expressed in an +article in the "Prospective Review," written by her own brother, James +Martineau. Mrs. Chapman now makes known, what has hitherto been only +a matter of conjecture, that this review gave such serious offense +to Miss Martineau that she from that time refused to recognize her +brother or to have any further communication with him. Mrs. Chapman, +who seldom or never finds her heroine in the wrong, justifies and +approves her conduct also here, quoting a passage from the review in +support of Miss Martineau's conduct in treating her brother as one of +"the defamers of old times whom she must never again meet." In this +passage Mr. Martineau only expresses his profound grief that his sister +should sit at the feet of such a master as Mr. Atkinson, and lay down +at his bidding her early faith in moral obligation, in the living God, +in the immortal sanctities. He calls this "an inversion of the natural +order of nobleness," implying that Mr. Atkinson ought to have sat at +her feet instead; and, turning to the review itself, we find this the +only passage in which a single word is said which could be regarded as +a censure on Miss Martineau. But Mr. Atkinson is indeed handled with +some severity. His language is criticised, and his logic is proved +fallacious. Much the largest part of the review is, however, devoted to +a refutation of his philosophy and doctrines. Now, as so large a part +of the "Letters" is pervaded with denunciations of the bigotry which +will not hear the other side of a question, and filled with admiration +of those who prefer truth to the ties of kindred, friendship, and old +association, we should have thought that Miss Martineau would rejoice +in having a brother who could say, "Amica Harriet, sed magis amica +veritas." Not at all. It was evident that he had said nothing about +herself at which she could take offense; but in speaking against +her new philosophy and her new philosopher he had committed the +unpardonable sin. And Mrs. Chapman allows herself to regard it as a +natural inference that this honest and manly review resulted from +"masculine terror, fraternal jealousy of superiority, with a sectarian +and provincial impulse to pull down and crush a world-wide celebrity." +She considers it "incomprehensible in an advocate of free thought" that +he should express his thoughts freely in opposition to a book which +argued against all possible knowledge of God and against all faith in +a future life. It is, however, only just to Miss Martineau to say that +she herself has brought no such charges against her brother, but left +the matter in silence. We cannot but think that it would have been +better for Miss Martineau's reputation if her biographer had followed +her example. + +But, though we must object to Mrs. Chapman's views on this point, and +on some others, we must add that her part of the second volume is +prepared with much ability, and is evidently the result of diligent +and loyal friendship. Miss Martineau could not have selected a more +faithful friend to whom to confide the history of her life. On two +subjects, however, we are obliged to dissent from her statements. +One is in regard to Dr. Channing, whom she, for some unknown reason, +systematically disparages. He was a good man, Mrs. Chapman admits, +"but not in any sense a great one. With benevolent intentions, he +could not greatly help the nineteenth century, for he knew very little +about it, or, indeed, of any other. He had neither insight, courage, +nor firmness. In his own Church had sprung up a vigorous opposition to +slavery, which he innocently, in so far as ignorantly, used the little +strength he had to stay." Certainly it is not necessary to defend the +memory of Dr. Channing against such a supercilious judgment as this. +But we might well ask why, if he is not a great man, and did not help +the nineteenth century, his works should continue to be circulated all +over Europe? Why should such men in France as Laboulaye and Rémusat +occupy themselves in translating and diffusing them? Why should +Bunsen class him among the five prophets of the Divine Consciousness +in Human History,--speaking of "his fearless speech," his "unfailing +good sense," and "his grandeur of soul, which makes him a prophet +of the Christianity of the Future"? Bunsen calls him a Greek in his +manly nature, a Roman in his civic qualities, and an apostle in his +Christianity. And was that man deficient in courage or firmness who +never faltered in the support of any opinions, however unpopular, +whether it was to defend Unitarianism in its weak beginnings, to appear +in Faneuil Hall as the leader against the defenders of the Alton mob, +to head the petition for the pardon of Abner Kneeland, and to lay on +the altar of antislavery the fame acquired by past labors? Is he to be +accused of repressing the antislavery movement in his own church, when +there is on record the letter in which he advocated giving the use of +the church building to the society represented by Mrs. Chapman herself; +and when the men of influence in his society refused it? Nor, in those +days of their unpopularity, did Mrs. Chapman and her friends count +Dr. Channing's aid so insignificant. In her article on "The Martyr +Age," Miss Martineau describes the profound impression caused by Dr. +Channing's sudden appearance in the State House to give his countenance +and aid to Garrison and the Abolitionists, in what, she says, was a +matter to them of life and death. And she adds, "He was thenceforth +considered by the world an accession to their principles, though not to +their organized body." + +Nor do we quite understand Mrs. Chapman's giving to Miss Martineau +the credit of being the cause of the petition for the pardon of Abner +Kneeland; as his conviction, and the consequent petition, did not take +place until she had been nearly two years out of the country. And why +does Mrs. Chapman select for special contempt, as unfaithful to their +duty to mankind, the Unitarian ministers? Why does she speak of "the +cowardly ranks of American Unitarians" with such peculiar emphasis? It +is not our business here to defend this denomination; but we cannot +but recall the "Protest against American Slavery" prepared and signed +in 1845 by one hundred and seventy-three Unitarian ministers, out of +a body containing not more than two hundred and fifty in all. And it +was this body which furnished to the cause some of its most honored +members. Of those who have belonged to the Unitarian body, we now +recall the names of such persons as Samuel J. May, Samuel May, Josiah +Quincy, John Quincy Adams, John Pierpont, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray +Loring, John G. Palfrey, John P. Hale, Dr. and Mrs. Follen, Theodore +Parker, John Parkman, John T. Sargent, James Russell Lowell, Wm. H. +Furness, Charles Sumner, Caleb Stetson, John A. Andrew, Lydia Maria +Child, Dr. S. G. Howe, Horace Mann, T. W. Higginson. So much for the +"cowardly ranks of American Unitarians." + +The last years of Miss Martineau were happy and peaceful. She had a +pleasant home at Ambleside, on Lake Windermere. She had many friends, +was conscious of having done a good work, and if she had no hopes in +the hereafter, neither had she any fears concerning it. She was a +strong, upright, true-hearted woman; one of those who have helped to +vindicate "the right of women to learn the alphabet." + + + + +THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA[48] + + +On the first day of January, 1832, when the American Antislavery +Society was formed in the office of Samuel E. Sewall in Boston, the +abolition of slavery through any such agency seemed impossible. Almost +all the great interests of the country were combined to defend and +sustain the system. The capital invested in slaves amounted to at +least one thousand millions of dollars. This vast pecuniary interest +was rapidly increasing by the growing demand for the cotton crop +of the Southern States--a demand which continually overlapped the +supply. The whole political power of the thirteen slave States was in +the hands of the slaveholders. No white man in the South, unless he +was a slaveholder, was ever elected to Congress, or to any important +political position at home. The two great parties, Whig and Democrat, +were pledged to the support of slavery in all its constitutional +rights, and vied with each other in giving to these the largest +interpretation. By a constitutional provision, which could not be +altered, the slave States had in Congress, in 1840, twenty-five more +Representatives in proportion to their number of voters than the free +States. By the cohesion of this great political and pecuniary interest +the slaveholders, though comparatively few in number, were able to +govern the nation. The Presidents, both houses of Congress, the Supreme +Court of the United States, the two great political parties, the press +of the country, the mercantile interest, and that mysterious force +which we call society, were virtually in the hands of the slaveholders. +Whenever their privileges were attacked, all these powers rallied to +their defense. Public opinion, in the highest circles of society and in +the lowest, was perfectly agreed on this one question. The saloons of +the Fifth Avenue and the mob of the Five Points were equally loyal to +the sacred cause of slavery. Thus all the great powers which control +free states were combined for its defense; and the attempt to assail +this institution might justly be regarded as madness. In fact, all +danger seemed so remote, that even so late as 1840 it was common for +slaveholders to admit that property in man was an absurdity and an +injustice. The system itself was so secure, that they could afford to +concede its principle to their opponents. Just as men formerly fought +duels as a matter of course, while frankly admitting that it was wrong +to do so,--just as at the present time we concede that war is absurd +and unchristian, but yet go to war continually, because we know no +other way of settling international disputes,--so the slaveholders used +to say, "Slavery is wrong; we know that: but how is it to be abolished? +What can we do about it?" + +Such was the state of things in the United States less than half a +century ago. On one side was an enormous pecuniary interest, vast +political power, the weight of the press, an almost unanimous public +opinion, the necessities of commerce, the authority of fashion, the +teachings of nearly every denomination in the Christian church, and the +moral obligations attributed to the sacred covenants of the fathers of +the Republic. On the other side there were only a few voices crying in +the wilderness, "It is unjust to claim property in man." The object of +the work before us is to show how, after the slave power had reached +this summit of influence, it lost it all in a single generation; how, +less by the zeal of its opponents than by the madness of its defenders, +this enormous fabric of oppression was undermined and overthrown; and +how, in a few years, the insignificant handful of antislavery people +brought to their side the great majority of the nation. + +Certainly a work which should do justice to such a history would be +one of the most interesting books ever written. For in this series of +events everything was involved which touches most nearly the mind, the +conscience, the imagination, and the heart of man. How many radical +problems in statesmanship, in political economy, in ethics, in +philosophy, in theology, in history, in science, came up for discussion +during this long controversy! What pathetic stories of suffering, what +separation of families, what tales of torture, what cruelty grown into +a custom, what awful depths of misery, came continually to light, as +though the judgment-day were beginning to dawn on the dark places of +the earth! What romances of adventure, what stories of courage and +endurance, of ingenuity in contrivance, of determination of soul, were +listened to by breathless audiences as related by the humble lips +of the fugitives from bondage! How trite and meagre became all the +commonplaces of oratory before the flaming eloquence of these terrible +facts! How tame grew all the conventional rhetoric of pulpit and +platform, by the side of speech vitalized by the immediate presence of +this majestic argument! The book which should reproduce the antislavery +history of those thirty years would possess an unimagined charm. + +We cannot say that Mr. Wilson's volumes do all this, nor had we any +right to expect it. He proposes to himself nothing of the sort. What +he gives us is, however, of very great value. It is a very carefully +collected, clearly arranged, and accurate account of the rise and +progress, decline and catastrophe, of slavery in the United States. +Mr. Wilson does not attempt to be philosophical like Bancroft and +Draper; nor are his pages as picturesque as are those of Motley and +Carlyle. He tells us a plain unvarnished tale, the interest of which +is to be found in the statement of the facts exactly as they occurred. +Considering that it is a story of events all of which he saw and a +large part of which he was, there is a singular absence of prejudice. +He is no man's enemy. He has passed through the fire, and there is no +smell of smoke on his garments. An intelligent indignation against +the crimes committed in defense of the system he describes pervades +his narrative. His impartiality is not indifference, but an absence +of personal rancor. Individuals and their conduct are criticised only +so far as is necessary to make clear the course of events and the +condition of public feeling. The defenders of slavery at the North and +South are regarded not as bad men, but as the outcome of a bad system. + +Mr. Wilson's book is a treasury of facts, and will never be superseded +so far as this peculiar value is concerned. In this respect it somewhat +resembles Hildreth's "History of the United States." Taking little +space for speculation, comment, or picturesque coloring, there is all +the more room left for the steady flow of the narrative. + +With a few unimportant omissions, the two volumes now published +contain a full history of slavery and antislavery from the Ordinance +of 1787 and the compromises of the Constitution down to the election +of Lincoln and the outbreak of the civil war. As a work of reference +they are invaluble, for each event in the long struggle for freedom +is distinctly and accurately told, while the calm story advances +through its various stages. Instead of following this narrative in +detail, which our space will not allow, we prefer to call our readers' +attention to some of the more striking incidents of this great +revolution. + +Our fathers, when they founded the nation, had little thought that +slavery was ever to attain such vast extension. They supposed that it +would gradually die out from the South, as it had disappeared from +the North. Yet the whole danger to their work lay here. Slavery, if +anything, was the wedge which was to split the Union asunder. When the +Constitution was formed, in 1787, the slaveholders, by dint of great +effort, succeeded in getting the little end of the wedge inserted. +It was very narrow, a mere sharp line, and it went in only a very +little way; so it seemed to be nothing at all. The slaveholders +at that time did not contend that slavery was right or good. They +admitted that it was a political evil. They confessed, many of them, +that it was a moral evil. All the great Southern revolutionary bodies +had accustomed themselves to believe in the rights of man, in the +principles of humanity, in the blessings of liberty; and they could +not _defend_ slavery. Mason of Virginia, in the debates in the Federal +Convention, denounced slavery and the slave-trade. "The evil of +slavery," said he, "affects the whole Union. Slavery discourages arts +and manufactures. The poor despise labor when done by slaves. They +prevent the immigration of whites, who really enrich a country. They +produce the most pernicious effects on the manners. Every master of +slaves is born a petty tyrant. They bring the judgment of Heaven on a +country." Williamson of North Carolina declared himself in principle +and practice opposed to slavery. Madison "thought it wrong to admit +in the Constitution the idea that there could be property in man." +But the extreme Southern States, South Carolina and Georgia, insisted +on the right of importing slaves, at least for a little while; and so +they were allowed to import them for twenty years. They also insisted +on having their slaves represented by themselves in Congress, and so +they were allowed to count three fifths of the slaves in determining +the ratio. This seemed a small thing, but it was the entering of the +wedge. It was tolerating the principle of slavery; not admitting it, +but tolerating it. At the same time that this Convention was forming, +the Federal Constitution Congress was prohibiting slavery in all the +territory northwest of the Ohio. This prohibition of slavery was +adopted by the unanimous votes of the eight States present, including +Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia. Two years later it was recognized +and confirmed by the first Congress under the Constitution. Jefferson, +a commissioner to revise the statute law of Virginia, prepared a +bill for gradual emancipation in that State. In 1790 a petition was +presented to Congress, signed by Benjamin Franklin, the last public act +of his life, declaring equal liberty to be the birthright of all, and +asking Congress to "devise means for restoring liberty to the slaves, +and so removing this inconsistency from the character of the American +people." In 1804 the people of Virginia petitioned Congress to have +the Ordinance of 1787 suspended, that they might hold slaves; but a +committee of Congress, of which John Randolph of Virginia was chairman, +reported that it would be "highly dangerous and inexpedient to impair a +provision wisely calculated to promote the happiness and prosperity of +the Northwest Territory." + +But in 1820 the first heavy blow came on the wedge to drive it into the +log. The Union is a tough log, and the wedge could be driven a good way +in without splitting it; but the first blow which drove it in was the +adopting the Missouri Compromise, allowing slavery to come North and +take possession of Missouri. + +The thirty years of prosperity which had followed the adoption of the +Constitution had changed the feelings of men both North and South. The +ideas of the Revolution had receded into the background; the thirst +for wealth and power had taken their place. So the Southern States, +which had cordially agreed thirty years before to prohibit the +extension of slavery, and had readily admitted it to be a political +evil, now demanded as a right the privilege of carrying slaves into +Missouri. They threatened to dissolve the Union, talked of a fire only +to be extinguished by seas of blood, and proposed to hang a member +from New Hampshire who spoke of liberty. Some of the Northern men +were not frightened by these threats, and valued them at their real +worth. But we know that the result was a compromise. Slavery was to +take possession of Missouri, on condition that no other State as far +north as Missouri should be slave-holding. Slavery was to be excluded +from the rest of the territory forever. This bargain was applauded and +justified by Southern politicians and newspapers as a great triumph +on their part; and it was. That fatal compromise was a surrender of +principle for the sake of peace, bartering conscience for quiet; and we +were soon to reap the bitter fruits. + +Face to face, in deadly opposition, each determined on the total +destruction of his antagonist, stood this Goliath of the slave power +and the little David of antislavery, at the beginning of the ten years +which extended from 1830 to 1840. The giant was ultimately to fall +from the wounds of his minute opponent, but not during this decade or +the next. For many years each of the parties was growing stronger, +and the fight was growing fiercer. Organization on the one side was +continually becoming more powerful; enthusiasm on the other continually +built up a more determined opinion. The slave power won repeated +victories; but every victory increased the number and ardor of its +opponents. + +The first attempt to destroy antislavery principles was by means of +mobs. Mobs seldom take place in a community unless where the upper +stratum of society and the lower are in sympathetic opposition to +some struggling minority. Then the lower class takes its convictions +from the higher, and regards itself as the hand executing what the +head thinks ought to be done. Respectability denounces the victim, +and the rabble hastens to take vengeance on him. Even a mob cannot +act efficiently unless inspired by ideas; and these it must receive +from some higher source. So it was when Priestley was mobbed at +Birmingham; so it was when Wesley and his friends were mobbed in +all parts of England. So it was also in America when the office of +the "Philanthropist" was destroyed in Cincinnati; when halls and +churches were burned in Philadelphia; when Miss Crandall was mobbed in +Connecticut; when Lovejoy was killed at Alton. Antislavery meetings +were so often invaded by rioters, that on one occasion Stephen S. +Foster is reported to have declared that the speakers were not doing +their duty, because the people listened so quietly. "If we were doing +our duty," said he, "they would be throwing brick-bats at us." + +These demonstrations only roused and intensified the ardor of the +Abolitionists, while bringing to their side those who loved fair play, +and those in whom the element of battle was strong. Mobs also were an +excellent advertisement for the Antislavery Society; and this is what +every new cause needs most for its extension. Every time that one of +their meetings was violently broken up, every time that any outrage +or injury was offered to the Abolitionists, all the newspapers in the +land gave them a gratuitous advertisement by conspicuous notices of the +event. So the public mind was directed to the question, and curiosity +was excited. The antislavery conventions were more crowded from day to +day, their journals were more in demand, and their plans and opinions +became the subject of conversation everywhere. + +And certainly there could be no more interesting place to visit than +one of these meetings of the Antislavery Society. With untiring +assiduity the Abolitionists brought to their platform everything which +could excite and impress their audience. Their orators were of every +kind,--rough men and shrill-voiced women, polished speakers from the +universities, stammering fugitives from slavery, philosophers and +fanatics, atheists and Christian ministers, wise men who had been made +mad by oppression, and babes in intellect to whom God had revealed +some of the noblest truths. They murdered the King's English, they +uttered glaring fallacies, the blows aimed at evildoers often glanced +aside and hit good men. Invective was, perhaps, the too frequent +staple of their argument, and any difference of opinion would be apt +to turn their weapons against each other. This church-militant often +became a church-termagant. Yet, after all such abatement for errors of +judgment or bad taste, their meetings were a splendid arena on which +was fought one of the greatest battles for mankind. The eloquence +we heard there was not of the schools, and had nothing artificial +about it. It followed the rule of Demosthenes, and was all directed +to action. Every word was a blow. There was no respect for dignities +or authorities. The Constitution of the United States, the object of +such unfeigned idolatry to the average American, was denounced as +"a covenant with hell." The great men of the nation, Webster, Clay, +Jackson, were usually selected as the objects of the severest censure. +The rule was to strike at the heads which rose above the crowd, as +deserving the sternest condemnation. Presidents and governors, heads of +universities, eminent divines, great churches and denominations, were +convicted as traitors to the right, or held up to unsparing ridicule. +No conventional proprieties were regarded in the terrible earnestness +of this enraged speech. It was like the lava pouring from the depths +of the earth, and melting the very rocks which opposed its resistless +course. + +Of course this fierce attack roused as fierce a defense. One extreme +generated the other. The cry for "immediate abolition" was answered by +labored defenses of slavery itself. Formerly its advocates only excused +it as a necessary evil; now they began to defend it as a positive good. +Then was seen the lamentable sight of Christian ministers and respected +divines hurrying to the support of the "sum of all villanies." The +Episcopal bishop of a New England State defended with ardor the system +of slavery as an institution supported by the Bible and commanded by +God himself. The president of a New England college declared slavery to +be a positive institution of revealed religion, and not inconsistent +with the law of love. The minister of a Boston church, going to the +South for his health, amused his leisure by writing a book on slavery, +in which it is made to appear as a rose-colored and delightful +institution, and its opposers are severely censured. One of the most +learned professors in a Massachusetts theological school composed a +treatise to refute the heresy of the higher law, and to maintain the +duty of returning fugitive slaves to bondage. Under such guidance it +was natural that the churches should generally stand aloof from the +Abolitionists and condemn their course. It was equally natural that +the Abolitionists should then denounce the churches as the bulwark of +slavery. Nevertheless, from the Christian body came most of those who +devoted their lives to the extirpation of this great evil and iniquity. +And Mr. Garrison, at least, always maintained that his converts were +most likely to be made among those whose consciences had been educated +by the Church and the Bible. + +From public meetings in the North, the conflict of ideas next extended +itself to the floor of Congress, where it continued to rage during +nearly thirty years, until "the war of tongue and pen" changed to +that of charging squadrons, the storm of shot and the roll of cannon. +The question found its way into the debates of Congress in the form +of petitions for the abolition of slavery and the slave-trade in the +District of Columbia. If the slaveholders had allowed these petitions +to be received and referred, taking no notice of them, it seems +probable that no important results would have followed. But, blinded by +rage and fear, they opposed their reception, thus denying a privilege +belonging to all mankind,--that of asking the government to redress +their grievances. Then came to the front a man already eminent by his +descent, his great attainments, his long public service, his great +position, and his commanding ability. John Quincy Adams, after having +been President of the United States, accepted a seat in the House of +Representatives, and was one of the most laborious and useful of +its members. He was not then an Abolitionist, nor in favor even of +abolishing slavery in the District of Columbia. But he believed that +the people had the right to petition the government for anything they +desired, and that their respectful petitions should be respectfully +received. Sixty-five years old in 1832, when he began this conflict, +his warfare with the slave power ended only when, struck with death +while in his seat, he saw the last of earth and was content. With what +energy, what dauntless courage, what untiring industry, what matchless +powers of argument, what inexhaustible resources of knowledge, he +pursued his object, the future historian of the struggle who can fully +paint what Mr. Wilson is only able to indicate, will take pleasure in +describing. One scene will remain forever memorable as one of the most +striking triumphs of human oratory; and this we must describe a little +more fully. + +February 6, 1837, being the day for presenting petitions, Mr. Adams had +already presented several petitions for the abolition of slavery in the +District of Columbia (a measure to which he was himself then opposed), +when he proceeded to state[49] that he had in his possession a paper +upon which he wished the decision of the Speaker. The paper, he said, +came from twenty persons declaring themselves to be slaves. He wished +to know whether the Speaker would consider this paper as coming under +the rule of the House.[50] The Chair said he would take the advice of +the House on that question. And thereupon began a storm of indignation +which raged around Mr. Adams during four days.[51] Considering that +the House had ordered, less than three weeks before, that all papers +relating _in any way_ to slavery should be laid on the table without +any action being taken on them, this four days' discussion about such +a paper, ending in the passing of several resolutions, was rather an +amusing illustration of the irrepressible character of the antislavery +movement. The Southern members seemed at first astonished at what they +hastily assumed to be an attempt of Mr. Adams to introduce a petition +from slaves. One moved that it be not received. Another, indignant +at such a tame way of meeting the question, declared that any one +attempting to introduce such a petition should be immediately punished; +and if that was not done at once, all the members from the slave States +should leave the House. Loud cries arose, "Expel him! expel him!" +Mr. Alfred declared that the petition ought to be burned. Mr. Waddy +Thompson of South Carolina, who soon received a castigation which he +little anticipated, moved that John Quincy Adams, having committed a +gross disrespect to the House in attempting to introduce a petition +from slaves, ought to be instantly brought to the bar of the House +to receive the severe censure of the Speaker. Similar resolutions +were offered by Mr. Haynes and Mr. Lewis, all assuming that Mr. Adams +had attempted to introduce this petition. He at last took the floor, +and said that he thought the time of the House was being consumed +needlessly, since all these resolutions were founded on an error. He +had _not_ attempted to present the petition,--he had only asked the +Speaker a question in regard to it. He also advised the member from +Alabama to amend his resolution, which stated the petition to be for +the abolition of slavery in the District, whereas it was the very +reverse of that. It was a petition for something which would be very +objectionable to himself, though it might be the very thing for which +the gentleman from Alabama was contending. Then Mr. Adams sat down, +leaving his opponents more angry than ever, but somewhat confused in +their minds. They could not very well censure him for doing what he +had not done, but they wished very much to censure him. So Mr. Waddy +Thompson modified his resolution, making it state that Mr. Adams, "by +creating the impression, and leaving the House under the impression, +that the petition was for the abolition of slavery," had trifled with +the House, and should receive its censure. After a multitude of other +speeches from the enraged Southern chivalry, the debate of the first +day came to an end. + +On the next day (February 7), in reply to a question, Mr. Adams stated +again that he had not attempted to present the petition, though his +own feelings would have led him to do so, but had kept it in his +possession, out of respect to the House. He had said nothing to lead +the House to infer that this petition was for the abolition of slavery. +He should consider before presenting a petition from slaves; though, +in his opinion, slaves had a right to petition, and the mere fact of +a petition being from slaves would not of itself prevent him from +presenting it. If the petition were a proper one, he should present +it. A petition was a prayer, a supplication to a superior being. +Slaves might pray to God; was this House so superior that it could not +condescend to hear a prayer from those to whom the Almighty listened? +He ended by saying that, in asking the question of the Speaker, he had +intended to show the greatest respect to the House, and had not the +least purpose of trifling with it. + +These brief remarks of Mr. Adams made it necessary for the slaveholders +again to change their tactics. Mr. Dromgoole of Virginia now brought +forward his famous resolution, which Mr. Adams afterwards made so +ridiculous, accusing him of having "given color to an idea" that +slaves had a right to petition, and that he should be censured by +the Speaker for this act. Another member proposed, rather late in the +day, that a committee be appointed to inquire whether any attempt had +been made, or not, to offer a petition from slaves. Another offered a +series of resolutions, declaring that if any one "hereafter" should +offer petitions from slaves he ought to be regarded as an enemy of the +South, and of the Union; but that "as John Quincy Adams had stated +that he meant no disrespect to the House, that all proceedings as to +his conduct should now cease." And so, after many other speeches, the +second day's debate came to an end. + +The next day was set apart to count the votes for President, and so +the debate was resumed February 9. It soon become more confused than +ever. Motions were made to lay the resolutions on the table; they were +withdrawn; they were renewed; they were voted down; and, finally, after +much discussion, and when at last the final question was about being +taken, Mr. Adams inquired whether he was to be allowed to be heard in +his own defense before being condemned. So he obtained the floor, and +immediately the whole aspect of the case was changed. During three days +he had been the prisoner at the bar; suddenly he became the judge on +the bench. Never, in the history of forensic eloquence, has a single +speech effected a greater change in the purpose of a deliberative +assembly. Often as the Horatian description has been quoted of the +just man, tenacious of his purpose, who fears not the rage of citizens +clamoring for what is wrong, it has never found a fitter application +than to the unshaken mind of John Quincy Adams, standing alone, in the +midst of his antagonists, like a solid monument which the idle storms +beat against in vain. + +He began by saying that he had been waiting during these three days +for an answer to the question which he had put to the Speaker, and +which the Speaker had put to the House, but which the House had not +yet answered, namely, whether the paper he held in his hand came under +the rule of the House or not. They had discussed everything else, but +had not answered that question. They had wasted the time of the House +in considering how they could censure him for doing what he had not +done. All he wished to know was, whether a petition from slaves should +be received or not. He himself thought that it ought to be received; +but if the House decided otherwise, he should not present it. Only one +gentleman had undertaken to discuss that question, and his argument +was, that if slavery was abolished by Congress in any State, the +Constitution was violated; and, _therefore_, slaves ought not to be +allowed to petition for anything. He, Mr. Adams, was unable to see the +connection between the premises and the conclusion. + +Hereupon poor Mr. French, the author of this argument, tried to +explain what he meant by it, but left his meaning as confused as before. + +Then Mr. Adams added, that if you deprived any one in the community of +the right of petition, which was only the right of offering a prayer, +you would find it difficult to know where to stop; one gentleman had +objected to the reception of one petition, because offered by women of +a bad character. Mr. Patton of Virginia says he _knows_ that one of the +names is of a woman of a bad character. _How does he know it?_ + +Hereupon Mr. Patton explained that he did not himself know the woman, +but had been told that her character was not good. + +So, said Mr. Adams, you first deny the right of petition to slaves, +then to free people of color, and then you inquire into the moral +character of a petitioner before you receive his petition. The next +step will be to inquire into the political belief of the petitioners +before you receive your petition. Mr. Robertson of Virginia had said +that no petitions ought to be received for an object which Congress +had no power to grant. Mr. Adams replied, with much acuteness, that +on most questions the right of granting the petition might be in +doubt: a majority must decide that point; it would therefore follow, +from Mr. Robertson's rule, that no one had a right to petition unless +he belonged to the predominant party. Mr. Adams then turned to Mr. +Dromgoole, who had charged him with the remarkable crime of "giving +color to an idea," and soon made that Representative of the Old +Dominion appear very ridiculous. + +Mr. Adams then proceeded to rebuke, with dignity but severity, the +conduct of those who had proposed to censure him without any correct +knowledge of the facts of the case. His criticisms had the effect +of compelling these gentlemen to excuse themselves and to offer +various explanations of their mistakes. These assailants suddenly +found themselves in an attitude of self-defense. Mr. Adams graciously +accepted their explanations, advising them in future to be careful when +they undertook to offer resolutions of censure. He then informed Mr. +Waddy Thompson of South Carolina that he had one or two questions to +put to him. By this time it had become a pretty serious business to +receive the attentions of Mr. Adams; and Mr. Waddy Thompson immediately +rose to explain. But Mr. Adams asked him to wait until he had fully +stated the question which Mr. Thompson was to answer. This Southern +statesman had threatened the ex-President of the United States with an +indictment by the grand jury of the District for words spoken in debate +in the House of Representatives, and had added that, if the petition +was presented, Mr. Adams would be sent to the penitentiary. "Sir," +said Mr. Adams, "the only answer I make to such a threat from that +gentleman is, to invite him, when he returns to his constituents, to +study a little the first principles of civil liberty." He then called +on the gentlemen from the slave States to say how many of them indorsed +that sentiment. "_I_ do not," said Mr. Underwood of Kentucky. "_I_ do +not," said Mr. Wise of Virginia. Mr. Thompson was compelled to attempt +another explanation, and said he meant that, in _South Carolina_, any +member of the legislature who should present a petition from slaves +could be indicted. "Then," replied Mr. Adams, and this produced a great +sensation, "if it is the law of South Carolina that members of her +Legislature may be indicted by juries for words spoken in debate, God +Almighty receive my thanks that I am not a citizen of South Carolina." + +Mr. Adams ended his speech by declaring that the honor of the +House of Representatives was always regarded by him as a sacred +sentiment, and that he should feel a censure from that House as the +heaviest misfortune of a long life, checkered as it had been by many +vicissitudes. + +When Mr. Adams began his defense, not only was a large majority of +the House opposed to his course, but they had brought themselves by +a series of violent harangues into a condition of bitter excitement +against him. When he ended, the effect of this extraordinary speech +was such, that all the resolutions were rejected, and out of the whole +House only twenty-two members could be found to pass a vote of even +indirect censure. The victory was won, and won by Mr. Adams almost +single-handed. We count Horatius Cocles a hero for holding the Roman +bridge against a host of enemies; but greater honors belong to him +who successfully defends against overwhelming numbers the ancient +safeguards of public liberty. For this reason we have repeated here at +such length the story of three days, which the people of the United +States ought always to remember. It took ten years to accomplish the +actual repeal of these gag-laws. But the main work was done when the +right of speech was obtained for the friends of freedom in Congress; +and John Quincy Adams was the great leader in this warfare. He was +joined on that arena by other noble champions,--Giddings, Mann, +Palfrey, John P. Hale, Chase, Seward, Slade of Vermont, Julian of +Indiana. Others no less devoted followed them, among whom came from +Massachusetts Charles Sumner and Henry Wilson, the author of the +present work. What he cannot properly say of himself should be said +for him. Though an accomplished and eager politician, Henry Wilson has +never sacrificed any great principle for the sake of political success. +His services to the antislavery cause have been invaluable, his labors +in that cause unremitting. Personal feelings and personal interests he +has been ready to sacrifice for the sake of the cause. Loyal to his +friends, he has not been bitter to his opponents; and if any man who +fought through that long struggle were to be its historian, no one will +deny the claims of Mr. Wilson to that honor. + +Under the lead of John Quincy Adams, the power to discuss the whole +subject of slavery in the National Legislature was won, and never +again lost. This was the second triumph of the antislavery movement; +its first was the power won by Garrison and his friends of discussing +the subject before the people. The wolfish mob in the cities and in +Congress might continue to howl, but it had lost its claws and teeth. +But now came the first great triumph of the slave power, in the +annexation of Texas. This was a cruel blow to the friends of freedom. +It was more serious because the motive of annexation was openly +announced, and the issue distinctly presented in the Presidential +election. Mr. Upshur, Tyler's Secretary of State, in an official +dispatch, declared that the annexation of Texas was necessary to secure +the institution of slavery. The Democratic Convention which nominated +Mr. Polk for the Presidency deliberately made the annexation of Texas +the leading feature of its platform. Nor was the slave power in this +movement opposed merely by the antislavery feeling of the country. +Southern senators helped to defeat the measure when first presented in +the form of a treaty by Mr. Tyler's administration. Nearly the whole +Whig party was opposed to it. The candidate of the Whigs, Henry Clay, +had publicly declared that annexation would be a great evil to the +nation. Twenty members of Congress, with John Quincy Adams at their +head, had proclaimed in an address to their constituents that it would +be equivalent to a dissolution of the Union. Dr. Channing, in 1838, had +said that it would be better for the nation to perish than to commit +such an outrageous wrong. Edward Everett, in 1837, spoke of annexation +as "an enormous crime." Whig and Democratic legislatures had repeatedly +denounced it. In 1843, when the Democrats had a majority in the +Massachusetts legislature, they resolved that "under no circumstances +whatever" could the people of Massachusetts approve of annexation. +Martin Van Buren opposed it as unjust to Mexico. Senator Benton, though +previously in favor of the measure, in a speech in Missouri declared +that the object of those who were favoring the scheme was to dissolve +the Union, though he afterward came again to its support. And yet when +the Presidential campaign was in progress, a Democratic torchlight +procession miles long was seen marching through the streets of Boston, +and flaunting the lone star of Texas along its whole line. And when +Polk was elected, and the decision of the nation virtually given for +this scheme, it seemed almost hopeless to contend longer against such +a triumph of slavery. If the people of the North could submit to this +outrage, it appeared as if they could submit to anything. + +Such, however, was not the case. On one side the slave power was +greatly strengthened by the admission of Texas to the Union as a slave +State; but, on the other hand, there came a large accession to the +antislavery body. And this continued to be the case during many years. +The slave power won a succession of political victories, each of which +was a moral victory to its opponents. Many who were not converted to +antislavery by the annexation of Texas in 1845 were brought over by +the defeat of the Wilmot Proviso and the passage of the Fugitive Slave +Law in 1850. Many who were not alarmed by these successes of slavery +were convinced of the danger when they beheld the actual working of +the Fugitive Slave Act. How many Boston gentlemen, before opposed to +the Abolitionists, were brought suddenly to their side when they saw +the Court House in chains, and were prevented by soldiers guarding +Anthony Burns from going to their banks or insurance offices in State +Street! All those bitter hours of defeat and disaster planted the seeds +of a greater harvest for freedom. Others who remained insensible to +the disgrace of the slave laws of 1850 were recruited to the ranks of +freedom by the repeal of the Missouri Compromise in 1854. This last +act, Mr. Wilson justly says, did more than any other to arouse the +North, and convince it of the desperate encroachments of slavery. Men +who tamely acquiesced in _this_ great wrong were startled into moral +life by the murderous assault on Charles Sumner by Preston Brooks in +1856. Those who could submit to this were roused by the border ruffians +from Missouri who invaded Kansas, and made the proslavery Constitution +for that State. The Dred Scott decision in 1857, which declared slavery +to be no local institution, limited to a single part of the land, but +having a right to exist in the free States under the Constitution, +alarmed even those who had been insensible to the previous aggressions +of slavery. This series of political successes of the slave power was +appalling. Every principle of liberty, every restraint on despotism, +was overthrown in succession, until the whole power of the nation had +fallen into the hands of an oligarchy of between three and four hundred +thousand slaveholders. But every one of their political victories was a +moral defeat; every access to their strength as an organization added +an immense force to the public opinion opposed to them; and each of +their successes was responded to by some advance of the antislavery +movement. The annexation of Texas in 1845 was answered by the +appearance of John P. Hale, in 1847, in the United States Senate,--the +first man who was elected to that body on distinctly antislavery +grounds and independent of either of the great parties. The response +to the defeat of the Wilmot Proviso and passage of the Fugitive Slave +Law in 1850 was the election of Charles Sumner to the Senate in April, +1851, and the establishment of the underground railroad in all the +free States. When the South abrogated the Missouri Compromise, the +North replied by the initiation of the Republican party. The Kansas +outrages gave to freedom John Brown of Osawatomie. And the answer to +the Dred Scott decision was the nomination of Abraham Lincoln. Till +that moment the forces of freedom and slavery had stood opposed, like +two great armies, each receiving constant recruits and an acccession of +new power. On one side, hitherto, had been all the political triumphs, +and on the other all the moral. But with this first great political +success of their opponents the slave power became wholly demoralized, +gave up the conflict, threw away the results of all its former +victories, and abandoned the field to its enemies, plunging into the +dark abyss of secession and civil war. + +And yet, what was the issue involved in that election? It was simply +whether slavery should or should not be extended into new Territories. +All that the Republican party demanded was that slavery should not be +extended. It did not dream of abolishing slavery in the slave States. +We remember how, long after the war began, we refused to do this. The +Southerners had every guaranty they could desire that they should not +be interfered with at home. If they had gracefully acquiesced in the +decision of the majority, their institution might have flourished for +another century. The Fugitive Slave Law would have been repealed; or, +at all events, trial by jury would have been given to the man claimed +as a fugitive. But no attempt would have been made by the Republican +party to interfere with slavery in the slave States, for that party did +not believe it had the right so to do. + +But, in truth, the course of the Southern leaders illustrated in a +striking way the distinction between a politician and a statesman. They +were very acute politicians, trained in all the tactics of their art; +but they were poor statesmen, incapable of any large strategic plan +of action. As statesmen, they should have made arrangements for the +gradual abolition of slavery, as an institution incapable of sustaining +itself in civilized countries in the nineteenth century. Or, if they +wished to maintain it as long as possible, they ought to have seen +that this could only be accomplished by preserving the support of +the interests and the public opinion of the North. Alliance with the +Northern States was their only security; and, therefore, they ought to +have kept the Northern conscience on their side by a loyal adherence to +all compacts and covenants. Instead of this, they contrived to outrage, +one by one, every feeling of honor, every sentiment of duty, and every +vested right of the free States, until, at last, it became plain to all +that it was an "irrepressible conflict," and must be settled definitely +either for slavery or for freedom. When this point was reached by the +American people, they saw also that it could not be settled in favor +of slavery, for no concession would satisfy the slaveholders, and no +contract these might make could be depended on. The North gave them, in +1850, the Fugitive Slave Law for the sake of peace. Did it gain peace? +No. It relinquished, for the sake of peace, the Wilmot Proviso. Was the +South satisfied? No. In 1853 Mr. Douglas offered it the Nebraska Bill. +Was it contented? By no means. Mr. Pierce and Mr. Buchanan did their +best to give it Kansas. Did they content the South by their efforts? +No. Mr. Douglas, Mr. Pierce, and Mr. Buchanan were all set aside by +the South. The Lecompton Bill was not enough. The Dred Scott decision +was not enough. The slaveholders demanded that slavery should be +established by a positive act of Congress in all the Territories of the +Union. Even Judge Douglas shrank aghast from the enterprise of giving +them such a law as that; and so Judge Douglas was immediately thrown +aside. Thus, by the folly of the Southern leaders themselves, more than +by the efforts of their opponents, the majority was obtained by the +Republicans in the election of 1860. + +But during this conflict came many very dark days for freedom. One +of these was after the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law in 1850. +That law was one of a series of compromises, intended to make a final +settlement of the question and to silence all antislavery agitation. +Although defended by great lawyers, who thought it necessary to save +the Union, there is little doubt that it was as unconstitutional as +it was cruel. The Constitution declares that "no person shall be +deprived of his liberty without due process of law," and also that +"in suits at common law, when the value in controversy shall exceed +twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved." Anthony +Burns was in full possession of his liberty; he was a self-supporting, +tax-paying citizen of Massachusetts; and in ten days, by the action of +the Fugitive Slave Law, he was turned into a slave under the decision +of a United States commissioner, without seeing a judge or a jury. +The passage of this law, and its actual enforcement, caused great +excitement among the free colored people at the North, as well as among +the fugitives from slavery. No one was safe. It was evident that it was +meant to be enforced,--it was not meant to be idle thunder. But instead +of discouraging the friends of freedom, it roused them to greater +activity. More fugitives than ever came from the slave States, and the +underground railroad was in fuller activity than before. The methods +employed by fugitives to escape were very various and ingenious. One +man was brought away in a packing-box. Another clung to the lower side +of the guard of a steamer, washed by water at every roll of the vessel. +One well-known case was that of Ellen Crafts, who came from Georgia +disguised as a young Southern gentleman, attended by her husband as +body-servant. She rode in the cars, sitting near Southerners who knew +her, but did not recognize her in this costume, and at last arrived +safe in Philadelphia. In one instance a slave escaped from Kentucky, +with all his family, walking some distance on stilts, in order to leave +no scent for the pursuing blood-hounds. When these poor people reached +the North, and told their stories on the antislavery platform, they +excited great sympathy, which was not confined to professed antislavery +people. A United States commissioner, who might be called on to return +fugitives to bondage, frequently had them concealed in his own house, +by the action of his wife, whose generous heart never wearied in this +work, and who was the means of saving many from bondage. A Democratic +United States marshal, in Boston, whose duty it was to arrest fugitive +slaves, was in the habit of telling the slave-owner who called on him +for assistance that he "did not know anything about niggers, but he +would find out where the man was from those who did." Whereupon he +would go directly to Mr. Garrison's office and tell him he wanted to +arrest such or such a man, a fugitive from slavery. "But," said he, +"curiously enough, the next thing I heard would be, that the fellow was +in Canada." And when a colored man was actually sent back to slavery, +as in the case of Burns, the event excited so much sympathy with +the fugitive, and so much horror of the law, that its effects were +disastrous to the slave power. Thomas M. Simms was arrested in Boston +as a fugitive from slavery, April 3, 1851, and was sent to slavery by +the decision of George Ticknor Curtis, a United States commissioner. +The answer to this act, by Massachusetts, was the election of Charles +Sumner, twenty-one days after, to the United States Senate. Anthony +Burns was returned to slavery by order of Edward G. Loring, in May, +1854; and Massachusetts responded by removing him from his office as +Judge of Probate, and refusing his confirmation as a professor in +Harvard University. + +The passage of what were called the compromise measures of 1850, +including the Fugitive Slave Law, had, it was fondly believed, put an +end to the whole antislavery agitation. The two great parties, Whig and +Democrat, had agreed that such should be the case. The great leaders, +Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, Cass and Buchanan, were active in +calling on the people to subdue their prejudices in favor of freedom. +Southern fire-eaters, like Toombs and Alexander Stephens, joined these +Union-savers, and became apostles of peace. Agitation was the only +evil, and agitation must now come to an end. Public meetings were held +in the large cities,--one in Castle Garden in New York, another in +Faneuil Hall in Boston. In these meetings the lion and the lamb lay +down together. Rufus Choate and Benjamin Hallet joined in demanding +that all antislavery agitation should now cease. The church was called +upon to assist in the work of Union-saving, and many leading divines +lent their aid in this attempt to silence those who desired that +the oppressed should go free, and who wished to break every yoke. +Many seemed to suppose that all antislavery agitation was definitely +suppressed. President Fillmore called the compromise measures "a final +adjustment." All the powers which control human opinion--the two great +political parties, the secular and the religious newspapers, the large +churches and popular divines, the merchants and lawyers--had agreed +that the antislavery agitation should now cease.[52] + +But just at that moment, when the darkness was the deepest, and all +the great powers in the church and state had decreed that there should +be no more said concerning American slavery, the voice of a woman broke +the silence, and American slavery became the one subject of discussion +throughout the world. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was written by Mrs. Stowe +for the "National Era," Dr. Bailey's paper in Washington. It was +intended to be a short story, running through two or three numbers of +the journal, and she was to receive a hundred dollars for writing it. +But, as she wrote, the fire burned in her soul, a great inspiration +came over her, and, not knowing what she was about to do, she moved +the hearts of two continents to their very depths. After her story +had appeared in the newspaper, she offered it as a novel to several +publishers, who refused it. Accepted at last, it had a circulation +unprecedented in the annals of literature. In eight weeks its sale had +reached one hundred thousand copies in the United States, while in +England a million copies were sold within the year. On the European +Continent the sale was immense. A single publisher in Paris issued five +editions in a few weeks, and before the end of 1852 it was translated +into Italian, Spanish, Danish, Swedish, Dutch, Flemish, German, Polish, +and Magyar. To these were afterward added translations into Portuguese, +Welsh, Russian, Arabic, and many other languages. For a time, it +stopped the publication and sale of all other works; and within a +year or two from the day when the politicians had decided that no more +should be said concerning American slavery, it had become the subject +of conversation and discussion among millions. + +"Uncle Tom's Cabin" was published in 1852. Those were very dark hours +in the great struggle for freedom. Who that shared them can ever +forget the bitterness caused by the defection of Daniel Webster, and +his 7th of March speech in 1850; by the passage of the Fugitive Slave +Law, which made the whole area of the free States a hunting-ground for +the slaveholders; and by the rejection of the Wilmot Proviso, which +abandoned all the new territory to slavery? This was followed by the +election of Franklin Pierce as President in 1852, on a platform in +which the Democratic party pledged itself to resist all agitation of +the subject of slavery in Congress or outside of it. And in December, +1853, Stephen A. Douglas introduced his Nebraska Bill, which repealed +the Missouri Compromise of 1820, and opened all the territory +heretofore secured to freedom to slaveholders and their slaves. This +offer on the part of Mr. Douglas was a voluntary bid for the support +of the slaveholders in the next Presidential election. And in spite +of all protests from the North, all resistance by Democrats as well +as their opponents, all arguments and appeals, this solemn agreement +between the North and the South was violated, and every restriction on +slavery removed. Nebraska and Kansas were organized as Territories, +and the question of slavery left to local tribunals, or what was called +"squatter sovereignty." + +The passage of this measure showed the vast political advance of the +slave power in the country, and how greatly it had corrupted the +political conscience of the nation. It also showed, to those who had +eyes, that slavery was the wedge which was to split the Union asunder. +But there were in the North many persons who still thought that danger +to the Union came rather from the _discussion_ of slavery than from +slavery itself. They supposed that if all opposition to slavery should +cease, then there would be no more danger. The Abolitionists were the +cause of all the peril; and the way to save the Union was to silence +the Abolitionists. That, however, had been tried ineffectually when +they were few and weak; and now it was too late, as these Union-savers +ought to have seen. + +Mr. Douglas and his supporters defended their cause by maintaining +that the Missouri Compromise was not a contract, but a simple act of +legislation, and they tauntingly asked, "Why, since antislavery men had +always thought that Compromise a bad thing, should they now object to +its being repealed?" Even this sophism had its effect with some, who +did not notice that Douglas's resolutions only repealed that half of +the Compromise which was favorable to freedom, while letting the other +half remain. One part of the Act of 1820 was that Missouri should be +admitted as a slave State; the other part was that all the rest of the +Territory should be forever free. Only the last part was now repealed. +Missouri was left in the Union as a slave State. + +The political advance now made by slavery will appear from the +following facts:-- + +In 1797 the slave power asked for only life; it did not wish to extend +itself; it united with the North in prohibiting its own extension into +the Northwest Territory. + +In 1820 it did wish to extend itself; it refused to be shut out of +Missouri, but was willing that the rest of the Territory should be +always free. + +In 1845 it insisted on extending itself by annexing Texas, but it +admitted that it had no right to go into any Territory as far north as +Missouri. + +In 1850 it refused to be shut out of any of the new territory, and +resisted the Wilmot Proviso; but still confessed that it had no right +to go into Kansas or Nebraska. + +Five years after, by the efforts of Stephen A. Douglas and Franklin +Pierce, it refused to be shut out of Kansas, and repealed the part of +the Missouri Compromise which excluded it from that region. But, in +order to accomplish this repeal, it took the plausible name of "popular +sovereignty," and claimed that the people should themselves decide +whether they would have a slave State or a free State. + +One additional step came. The people decided or were about to decide +for freedom; and then the slave power set aside its own doctrine +of popular sovereignty and invaded the Territory with an army of +Missourians, chose a legislature for the people of Kansas composed of +Missourians, who passed laws establishing slavery and punishing with +fine and imprisonment any who should even speak against it. + +The people of Kansas refused to obey these laws. They would have been +slaves already if they had obeyed them. Then their own governor, +appointed by our President, led an army of Missourians to destroy +their towns and plunder and murder their people. Nothing was left +them but to resist. They did resist manfully but prudently, and by a +remarkable combination of courage and caution the people of the little +Free-State town of Lawrence succeeded in saving themselves from this +danger without shedding a drop of blood. Men, women, and children were +animated by the same heroic spirit. The women worked by the side of the +men. The men were placed on the outposts as sentinels and ordered by +their general not to fire as long as they could possibly avoid it. And +these men stood on their posts, and allowed themselves to be shot at by +the invaders, and did not return the fire. One man received two bullets +through his hat, and was ready to fire if the enemy came nearer, but +neither fired nor quitted his post. The men were brave and obedient +to orders; the women were resolute, sagacious, and prudent. So they +escaped their first great danger. + +But slavery does not give up its point so easily after one defeat. +Preparations were made along the Missouri frontier for another +invasion, conducted in a more military manner and by troops under +better discipline. The Free-State people of Kansas were to be +exterminated. From week to week they were expecting an attack, and had +to watch continually against it. After having worked all day the men +were obliged to do military duty and stand guard all night. Men who +lived four and five miles out from Lawrence got wood and water for +their wives in the morning, left them a revolver with which to defend +themselves, and went to Lawrence to do military duty, returning at +night again. + +If we had a writer gifted with the genius of Macaulay to describe the +resistance of Kansas to the Federal authorities on one side and the +Missouri invaders on the other, it would show as heroic courage and +endurance as are related in the brilliant pages which tell of the +defense of Londonderry. The invaders were unscrupulous, knowing that +they had nothing to fear from the government at Washington. Senator +Atchison, formerly the presiding officer of the United States Senate, +openly advised the people of Missouri to go and vote in Kansas. General +Stringfellow told them to take their bowie-knives and exterminate +every scoundrel who was tainted with Free-soilism or Abolitionism. +The orders were obeyed. The first legislature was elected by armed +invaders from Missouri, and Buford with a regiment of Southern soldiers +entered the Territory in 1856, and surrounded Lawrence. These troops, +under Atchison, Buford, and Stringfellow, burned houses and hotels, +and stole much property. Osawatomie was sacked and burned, Leavenworth +invaded and plundered, and Free-State men were killed. A proslavery +constitution formed by Missouri slaveholders was forced through +Congress, but rejected by the people of Kansas, who at last gained +possession of their own State by indomitable courage and patience. +Four territorial governors, appointed by the President, selected from +the Democratic party and favorable to the extension of slavery, were +all converted to the cause of freedom by the sight of the outrages +committed by the Missouri invaders. + +Amid this scene of tumult arose a warrior on the side of freedom +destined to take his place with William Wallace and William Tell among +the few names of patriots which are never forgotten. John Brown of +Osawatomie was one of those who, in these later days, have reproduced +for us the almost forgotten type of the Jewish hero and prophet. He was +a man who believed in a God of justice, who believed in fighting fire +with fire. He was one who came in the spirit and power of Elijah, an +austere man, a man absorbed in his ideas, fixed as fate in pursuing +them. Yet his heart was full of tenderness, he had no feeling of +revenge toward any, and he really lost his own life rather than risk +the lives of others. While in Kansas he become a leader of men, a +captain, equal to every exigency. The ruffians from Missouri found to +their surprise that, before they could conquer Kansas, they had some +real fighting to do, and must face Sharpe's rifles; and as soon as they +understood this, their zeal for their cause was very much abated. In +this struggle John Brown was being educated for the last scene of his +life, which has lifted up his name, and placed it in that body which +Daniel O'Connell used to call "The order of Liberators."[53] + +Out of these persecutions of Free-State men in Kansas came the assault +on Charles Sumner, for words spoken in debate. Charles Sumner was +elected to the United States Senate in 1851. He found in Congress some +strong champions of freedom. John Quincy Adams was gone; but Seward +was there, and Chase, and John P. Hale, in the Senate; and Horace +Mann, Giddings, and other true men in the House. Henry Wilson himself, +always a loyal friend to Sumner, did not come till 1855. These men all +differed from one another, and each possessed special gifts for his +arduous work. They stood face to face with an imperious majority, +accustomed to rule. They had only imperfect support at home,--people +and press at the North had been demoralized by slavery. They must watch +their words, be careful of what they said, control their emotions, +maintain an equal temper. Something of the results of this discipline +we think we perceive in the calm tone of Mr. Wilson's volumes, and the +absence of passion in his narration. These men must give no occasion to +the enemy to blaspheme, but be careful of their lips and their lives. +Their gifts, we have said, were various. Seward was a politician, +trained in all the intricate ways of New York party struggles; but +he was also a thinker of no small power of penetration. He could see +principles, but was too much disposed to sacrifice or postpone them +to some supposed exigency of the hour. In his orations, when he spoke +for mankind, his views were large; but in his politics he sometimes +gave up to party his best-considered convictions. Thought and action, +he seemed to believe, belonged to two spheres; in his thought he was +often broader in his range than any other senator, but in action he was +frequently tempted to temporize. Mr. Chase was a man of a different +sort. He had no disposition to concede any of his views. A cautious +man, he moved slowly; but when he had taken his position, he was not +disposed to leave it. John P. Hale was admirable in reply. His retorts +were rapid and keen, and yet were uttered so good-naturedly, and +with so much wit, that it was difficult for his opponents to take +offense. But Charles Sumner was "the noblest Roman of them all." With +a more various culture, a higher tone of moral sentiment, he was also +a learned student and a man of implacable opinions. He never could +comprehend Mr. Seward's diplomacy, and probably Mr. Seward could never +understand Sumner's inability to compromise. He was deficient in +imagination and in tact; therefore he could not enter into the minds of +others, and imperfectly understood them. But the purity of his soul and +life, the childlike simplicity of his purposes, and the sweetness of +his disposition, were very charming to those who knew him well. Add to +this the resources of a mind stored with every kind of knowledge, and a +memory which never forgot anything, and his very presence in Washington +gave an added value to the place. He had seen men and cities, and was +intimate with European celebrities, but yet was an Israelite indeed +in whom was no guile. Fond of the good opinions of others, and well +pleased with their approbation, he never sacrificed a conviction to win +their praise or to avoid their censure. Certainly, he was one of the +purest men who ever took part in American politics. + +It was such a man as this, so gifted and adorned, so spotless and +upright, who by the wise providence of God was permitted to be the +victim of a brutal assassin. It was this noble head, the instrument of +laborious thought for the public welfare, which was beaten and bruised +by the club of a ruffian, on May 22, 1856. Loud was the triumph through +the South, great the joy of the slave power. They had disabled, with +cruel blows, their chief enemy. Little did they foresee--bad men never +do foresee--that Charles Sumner was to return to his seat, and become a +great power in the land, long after their system had been crushed, and +their proud States trampled into ruin by the tread of Northern armies. +They did not foresee that he was to be the trusted counselor of Lincoln +during those years of war; and that, after they had been conquered, he +would become one of their best friends in their great calamity, and +repay their evil with good. + +This murderous assault on Mr. Sumner cannot be considered as having +strengthened the political position of the slave power. It was a great +mistake in itself, and it was a greater mistake in being indorsed by +such multitudes in the slave States. In thus taking the responsibility +of the act, they fully admitted that brutality, violence, and cowardly +attempts at assassination are natural characteristics of slavery. A +thrill of horror went through the civilized world on this occasion. All +the free States felt themselves outraged. That an attempt should be +made to kill in his seat a Northern man, for words spoken in debate, +was a gross insult and wrong to the nation, and deepened everywhere the +detestation felt for the system. + +But madness must have its perfect work. One more step remained to be +taken by the slave power, and that was to claim the right, under the +Constitution, and protected by the general government, to carry slaves +and slavery into all the Territories. It was not enough that they were +not prohibited by acts of Congress. They must not allow the people of +the Territories to decide for themselves whether slavery should exist +among them or not. It had a right to exist there, in spite of the +people. A single man from South Carolina, going with his slaves into +Nebraska, should have the power of making that a slave State, though +all the rest of its inhabitants wished it to be free. And if he were +troubled by his neighbors, he had a right to call on the military power +of the United States to protect him against them. Such was the doctrine +of the Dred Scott case, such the doctrine accepted by the majority +of the United States Senate under the lead of Jefferson Davis in the +spring of 1859. Such was the doctrine demanded by the Southern members +of the Democratic Convention in Charleston, S. C., in May, 1860, +and, failing to carry it, they broke up that convention. And it was +because they were defeated in this purpose of carrying slavery into the +Territories that they seceded from the Union, and formed the Southern +Confederacy. + +They had gained a long succession of political triumphs, which we +have briefly traced in this article. They had annexed Texas, and +made another slave State of that Territory. They had established the +principle that slavery was not to be excluded by law from any of the +Territories of the nation. They had repealed the Missouri Compromise, +passed the Fugitive Slave Law, obtained the Dred Scott decision from +the Supreme Court. In all this they had been aided by the Democratic +party, and were sure of the continued help of that party. With these +allies, they were certain to govern the country for a long period of +years. The President, the Senate, the Supreme Court, were all on their +side. As regarded slavery in the States, there was nothing to threaten +its existence there. The Republicans proposed only to restrict it to +the region where it actually existed, but could not and would not +meddle with it therein. If the slave power had been satisfied with +this, it seems probable that it might have retained its ascendency in +the country for a long period. An immense region was still open to its +colonies. Cotton was still king, and the slaveholders possessed all +the available cotton-growing regions. They were wealthy, they were +powerful, they governed the nation. They threw all this power away by +seceding from the Union. Why did they do this? + +The frequent answer to this question is contained in the proverb, +"Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad." No doubt this act +was one of madness, and no doubt it was providential. But Providence +works not by direct interference, but by maintaining the laws of cause +and effect. Why did they become so mad? Why this supreme folly of +relinquishing actual enormous power, in order to set their lives and +fortunes on the hazard of a die? + +It seems to be the doom of all vaulting ambition to overleap itself, +and to fall on the other side. When Macbeth had gained all his ends, +when he had become Thane of Cawdor and Glamis, and king, he had no +peace, because the succession had been promised to Banquo:-- + + "Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, + And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, + Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand, + No son of mine succeeding. If't be so, + For _Banquo's_ issue have I filed my mind, + For _them_ the gracious Duncan have I murthered, + Put rancors in the vessel of my peace. + ... To make _them_ kings, the seed of Banquo kings! + Rather than so, come fate into the list, + And champion me to the utterance." + +When Napoleon the First was master of nearly all Europe, he could not +be satisfied while England resisted his power, and Russia had not +submitted to it. So _he_ also said,-- + + "Rather than so, come fate into the list, + And champion me to the utterance." + +He also threw away all his immense power because he could not arrest +his own course or limit his own demands on fate. Such ambitions cannot +stop, so long as there is anything unconquered or unpossessed. "All +this avails me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at +the king's gate." The madness which seizes those greedy of power is +like the passion of the gamester, who is unable to limit his desire +of gain. By this law of insatiable ambition Providence equalizes +destinies, and power is prevented from being consolidated in a few +hands. + +The motive which actuates these ambitions, and makes them think that +nothing is gained so long as anything remains to be gained, seems to +be a secret fear that they are in danger of losing all unless they can +obtain more. + +This inward dread appears to have possessed the hearts of the Southern +slaveholders. Since slavery has been abolished, many of them admit that +they have more content in their present poverty than they formerly +had in their large possessions. They were then sensitive to every +suggestion which touched their institution. Hence their persecution +of Abolitionists, hence their cruelty to the slaves themselves,--for +cruelty is often the child of fear. Hence the atrocity of the slave +laws. Hence the desire to secure more and larger guaranties from the +United States for their institution. Every rumor in the air troubled +them. The fact that antislavery opinion existed at the North, that it +was continually increasing, that a great political party was growing +up which was opposed to their system, that such men as Garrison and +Wendell Phillips existed in Boston, that Seward and Sumner were in +the Senate,--all this was intolerable. The only way of accounting for +Southern irritability, for Southern aggressions, for its perpetual +demand for more power, is to be found in this latent terror. They +doubted whether the foundations of their whole system were not rotten; +they feared that it rested on falsehood and lies; they secretly felt +that it was contrary to the will of God; an instinct in their souls +told them that it was opposed to the spirit of the age and the laws of +progress; and this fear made them frantic. + +When men's minds are in this state, they are like the glass toy called +a Rupert's bubble. A single scratch on the surface causes it to fly +in pieces. The scratch on the surface of the slave system which +caused it to rush into secession and civil war was the attempt of +John Brown on Harper's Ferry. It seemed a trifle, but it indicated a +great deal. It was the first drop of a coming storm. When one man was +able to lay down his life, in a conflict with their system, with such +courage and nobleness, in a cause not his own, a shudder ran through +the whole South. To what might this grow? And so they said, "Let us +cut ourselves wholly off from these dreadful fanaticisms, from these +terrible dangers. Let us make a community of our own, and shut out from +it entirely all antislavery opinion, and live only with those who think +as we do." And so came the end. + +In reviewing Mr. Wilson's work, we have thus seen how it describes +the gradual and simultaneous growth in the United States of two +hostile powers,--one political, the other moral. The one continued to +accumulate the outward forces which belong to the organization; the +other, the inward forces which are associated with enthusiasm. The one +added continually to its external strength by the passage of new laws, +the addition of new territory, the more absolute control of parties, +government, courts, the press, and the street. The other increased its +power by accumulating an intenser conviction, a clearer knowledge, a +firmer faith, and a more devoted consecration to its cause. The weapons +of the one were force, adroitness, and worldly interest; those of the +other, faith in God, in man, and in truth. + +Great truths draw to their side noble auxiliaries. So it was with the +antislavery movement. The heroism, the romance, the eloquence, the +best literature, the grandest forms of religion, the most generous +and purest characters,--all were brought to it by a sure affinity. +As Wordsworth said to Toussaint l'Ouverture, so it might be declared +here:-- + + "Thou hast great allies; + Thy friends are exaltations, agonies, + And love, and man's unconquerable mind." + +The best poets of America, Bryant, Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, were +in full sympathy with this cause, and their best poetry was their songs +for freedom. Shall we ever forget the caustic humor of "Hosea Biglow" +and "Birdofredum Sawin"? And how lofty a flight of inspiration did the +same bard take, when he chanted in verses nobler, as it seems to us, +than anything since Wordsworth's "Ode to Immortality," the Return of +the Heroes who had wrought salvation for the dear land "bright beyond +compare" among the nations! What heroism, what tenderness, what stern +rebuke, what noble satire, have attended every event in this long +struggle, from the lyre of Whittier! Nothing in Campbell excels the +ring of some of his trumpet-calls, nothing in Cowper the pathos of his +elegies over the martyrs of freedom. The best men and the best women +were always to be found at the meetings of the Antislavery Society. +There were to be seen such upright lawyers as Ellis Gray Loring and +Samuel E. Sewall and John A. Andrew, such eminent writers as Emerson, +such great preachers as Theodore Parker and Beecher, such editors as +Bryant and Greeley. To this cause did William Ellery Channing devote +his last years and best thoughts. If the churches as organizations +stood aloof, being only "timidly good," as organizations are apt +to be, the purest of their body were sure to be found in this great +company of latter-day saints. + +Antislavery men had their faults. They were often unjust to their +opponents, though unintentionally so. They were sometimes narrow and +bitter; and with them, as with all very earnest people, any difference +of opinion as to methods seemed to involve moral obliquity. But they +were doing the great work of the age,--the most necessary work of +all,--and much might be pardoned to their passionate love of justice +and humanity. In their meetings could be heard many of the ablest +speakers of the time, and one, the best of all. He held the silver bow +of Apollo, and dreadful was its clangor when he launched its shafts +against spiritual wickedness in high places. Those deadly arrows were +sometimes misdirected, and occasionally they struck the good men who +were meaning to do their duty. Such errors, we suppose, are incident +to all who are speaking and acting in such terrible earnest; in the +great day of accounts many mistakes will have to be rectified. But +surely among the goodly company of apostles and prophets, and in the +noble army of martyrs there assembled, few will be found more free from +the sins of selfish interest and personal ambition than those who in +Congress, in the pulpit, on the platform, or with the pen, fought the +great battle of American freedom. + +One great moral must be drawn from this story before we close. It +demonstrates, by a great historical proof, that no evil however +mighty, no abuse however deeply rooted, can resist the power of truth +faithfully uttered and steadily applied. If this great institution of +slavery, resting on such a foundation of enormous pecuniary interest, +buttressed by such powerful supports, fell in the life of a single +generation before the unaided power of truth, why should we ever +despair? Henceforth, whenever a mighty evil is to be assailed, or +a cruel despotism overthrown, men will look to this history of the +greatness and decadence of slavery; and, so encouraged, will believe +that God is on the side of justice, and that truth will always prevail +against error. + +But to this we must add, that it is only where free institutions exist +that truth has full power in such a conflict. We need free speech, +a free press, free schools, and free churches, in order that truth +may have a free course. The great advantage of a republic like ours +is, that it gives to truth a fair chance in its conflict with error. +The Southern States would long ago have abolished slavery if it had +possessed such institutions. But, though republican in form, the +Southern States were in reality an oligarchy, in which five millions +of whites and three millions of slaves were governed by the absolute +and irresponsible power of less than half a million of slaveholders. +Freedom was permitted by them except when this institution was +concerned, then it was absolutely forbidden. No book written against +their peculiar institution could be printed on any Southern press or +sold in any Southern bookstore. No newspaper attacking slavery was +allowed to be circulated through Southern mails. No public meeting +could be held to discuss the right and wrong of slavery. No minister +could preach against the system. No man could express, even in +conversation, his hostility to it, without risk of personal injury. +An espionage as sharp, and an inquisition as relentless as those of +Venice or Spain, governed society, at least in the cotton and sugar +States of the Union. But at the North opinion was free, and therefore +slavery fell. Fisher Ames compressed in an epigram the evil and good of +republican institutions. "In a monarchy," said he, "we are in a ship, +very comfortable while things go well; but strike a rock, and we go to +the bottom. In a republic, we are on a raft; our feet are wet, and it +is not always agreeable, but we are safe." It is a lasting proof of the +conservative power of free institutions, that they were able to uproot +such a system as slavery by creating a moral force capable of putting +it down; that they could carry us through a civil war, still leaving +the press and speech free: that they stood the strain of a presidential +election without taking from the voters a single right; and so, at +last, conquered a rebellion on so vast a scale that every European +monarchy, with its immense standing army, would have been powerless in +its presence. Let those Americans who are disposed to disparage their +own institutions bear this history in mind. We have evils here, and +great ones; but they come at once to the surface, and therefore can be +met and overcome by the power of intelligent opinion. So it has always +been in the past; so it will be, God aiding us, in the future. We are +about to meet the Centennial Anniversary of our national life; and on +that day we can look back to our fathers, the founders of the Republic, +and say to them,--"You gave us the inestimable blessing of free +institutions; we have used those institutions to destroy the only great +evil which you transmitted to us untouched. We now can send down the +Republic to our children, pure from this stain, and capable of enduring +IN SECULA SECULORUM." + + + The Riverside Press + + CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, U. S. A. + ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY + H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[1] See the argument to prove that it would not be difficult to climb +to heaven. + +[2] Simon Peter's attitude expresses astonishment and perplexity. He +holds out both hands, and seems to say, "It cannot be!" + +In Thaddeus we see suspicion, doubt, distrust. "I always suspected him." + +Matthew is speaking to Peter and Thomas, his hand held out toward +Jesus: "But I heard him say so." + +Thomas: "What can it mean? What will be the end?" + +James: (Hands spread wide apart in astonished perplexity:) "Is it +possible?" + +Philip has laid both hands on his breast, and leaning toward Jesus +says, "Lord, is it I?" + +At the other end, one is leaning forward, his hands resting on the +table, to catch the next words; one starting back, confused and +confounded. + +[3] _The North American Review_, February, 1881. + +[4] _The Independent_, 1882. + +[5] _The North American Review_, May, 1883. + +[6] _Buddha and Early Buddhism_. Trübner & Co., 1881. + +[7] _Hibbert Lectures_, 1882, page 291. + +[8] A. Réville: _Prolégomènes de l'Histoìre des Religions_. + +[9] _Le Bouddha et sa Religion_, page 149, par J. Barthélemy +Saint-Hilaire, Paris. + +[10] Senart: _Essai sur la Légende du Buddha_. Paris, 1875. + +[11] Oldenberg: _Buddha, sein Leben, seine Lehre, seine Gemeinde_. +Berlin, 1881. This is one of the latest and best books on our subject. + +[12] _Three Lectures on Buddhism_: "Romantic Legend of Buddha," by +Samuel Beal. London, 1875. Eitel. + +[13] _Hibbert Lectures_: "Origin and Growth of Buddhism," by T. W. Rhys +Davids. 1881. + +[14] _Ibid._, page 143. + +[15] _Buddhistisch-Christliche Harmonie._ + +[16] P. E. Lucius: _Die Therapeuten und ihre Stellung_, &c. Strassburg, +1880. + +[17] _The North American Review_, October, 1887. + +[18] _The Atlantic Monthly_, October, 1874. + +[19] _The Intelligence and Perfectibility of Animals_, by C. G. Leroy. +Translated into English in 1870. _De l'Instinct et l'Intelligence des +Animaux_, par P. Flourens. Paris, 1864. + +[20] It is a mistake to say that the Tasmanians do not use fire. + +[21] _The Galaxy_, December, 1874. + +[22] Symposium in the _North American Review_, May, 1879. + +[23] In this brief paper it is not possible even to allude to the +objections which have been brought against the doctrine of final +causes. For these objections, and the answers to them, I would refer +the reader to the work of Janet, before mentioned. + +[24] _The Christian Examiner_, September, 1864. + +[25] _History of Friedrich the Second, called Frederick the Great_, by +Thomas Carlyle. In four volumes. Harper and Brothers, 1864. + +[26] + + "Tu se' lo mio maestro, e 'l mio autore, + O degli altri poeti onore e lume." + +[27] _Frederick the Great_, vol. ii. p. 223. + +[28] _The Christian Examiner_, November, 1861. + +[29] _History of Civilization in England._ By Henry Thomas Buckle. +Vols. I. and II. New York: D. Appleton and Company. + +[30] _Comm._ VI. 11, _et seq._ + +[31] _Germania._ + +[32] George Borrow, _The Zincali_. See also an excellent article by A. +G. Paspati, translated from Modern Greek by Rev. C. Hamlin, D. D., in +_Journal of American Oriental Society_, 1861. + +[33] See Vol. II. pp. 255-259, American edition. + +[34] _The Atlantic Monthly_, August, 1881. + +[35] _Life of Voltaire_, by James Parton. In two vols. Boston: +Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1886. + +[36] Voltaire himself, with his acute perception, seems to have been +one of the first to discover the absurdity of the representation of +Tiberius by Tacitus. + +[37] _Essai sur les Mœurs_, ch. cxxi. + +[38] Parton, ii. 549. + +[39] _Ibid._, ii. 551. + +[40] _Ibid._, i. 232. + +[41] Martin's _History of France_. + +[42] Parton, i. 461. + +[43] Martin's _History of France_. + +[44] A sermon preached May 7, 1882. + +[45] _The North American Review_, May, 1877. + +[46] _Harriet Martineau's Autobiography._ Edited by Maria Weston +Chapman. 2 vols. + +[47] For some reason she afterward saw fit partially to abandon this +self-denial, and allowed Mrs. Chapman to print any letters written to +herself by Miss Martineau. + +[48] "History of the Rise and Fall of the Slave Power in America," by +Henry Wilson, _North American Review_, January, 1875. + +[49] _Congressional Globe_ for February 6, 1837. + +[50] Rule adopted January 18, that all petitions relating to slavery be +laid on the table without any action being taken on them. + +[51] February 6, 7, 9, 11. + +[52] The writer of this article recalls a scene which occurred in +his presence in the United States Senate early in 1851. Mr. Clay was +speaking of the antislavery agitators and of the Free-Soil party, and +said, with much bitterness, "We have put them down,--down,--down, where +they will remain; down to a place so low, that they can never get up +again." John P. Hale, never at a loss for a reply, immediately arose +and said, "The Senator from Kentucky says that I and my friends have +been put down,--down,--down, where we shall have to stay. It may be +so. Indeed, if the Senator says so, I am afraid it _must_ be so. For, +if there is any good authority on this subject, any man who knows by +his own personal and constant experience what it is to be put down, +and to be kept down, it is the honorable Senator from Kentucky." Mr. +Clay's aspirations had been so often baffled, that this was a very keen +thrust. The writer spoke to Mr. Hale shortly after, and he said, "I do +not think Mr. Clay will forgive me that hit; but I could not help it. +They may have got us down, but they shall not trample upon us." + +[53] O'Connell, in an album belonging to John Howard Payne, writes this +sentence after his name. + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + +Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant +preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. + +Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced +quotation marks retained. + +Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. + +Page 39: "Appeltons' Journal" was punctuated that way in the original +book and on the masthead of the Journal itself. + +Page 46: "generalties" was spelled that way in the original book and in +some copies of "The Poestaster" itself. + +Page 220: Greek transliteration in curly braces was added by +Transcriber. + +Page 309: Opening quotation mark before "unfailing good sense" was +added by Transcriber. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Nineteenth Century Questions, by +James Freeman Clarke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS *** + +***** This file should be named 44628-0.txt or 44628-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/6/2/44628/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/44628-0.zip b/old/44628-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b35fd67 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/44628-0.zip diff --git a/old/44628-8.txt b/old/44628-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c5604a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/44628-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8936 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Nineteenth Century Questions, by James Freeman Clarke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nineteenth Century Questions + +Author: James Freeman Clarke + +Release Date: January 8, 2014 [EBook #44628] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's note: Text in {curly braces} on page 220 is Greek +transliteration provided by the transcribers. + + + + +By James Freeman Clarke, D.D. + + + TEN GREAT RELIGIONS. Part I. An Essay in Comparative Theology. + New _Popular Edition_. Crown 8vo, gilt top, $2.00. + + TEN GREAT RELIGIONS. Part II. Comparison of all Religions. Crown + 8vo, gilt top, $2.00. + + COMMON SENSE IN RELIGION. Crown 8vo, $2.00. + + MEMORIAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. Crown 8vo, $2.00. + + EVERY-DAY RELIGION. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + EVENTS AND EPOCHS IN RELIGIOUS HISTORY. With Maps and + Illustrations. Crown 8vo, $2.00. + + THE IDEAS OF THE APOSTLE PAUL. Translated into their Modern + Equivalents. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + SELF-CULTURE: Physical, Intellectual, Moral, and Spiritual. Crown + 8vo, $1.50. + + NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + EXOTICS. Poems translated from the French, German, and Italian, + by J. F. C. and L. C. 18mo, $1.00. + + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, + BOSTON AND NEW YORK. + + + + + NINETEENTH CENTURY + QUESTIONS + + BY + JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + 1897. + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY ELIOT C. CLARKE + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE + + +Shortly before his death, Dr. Clarke selected the material for this +book, and partly prepared it for publication. He wished thus to +preserve some of his papers which had excited interest when printed in +periodicals or read as lectures. + +With slight exceptions, the book is issued just as prepared by the +author. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + LITERARY STUDIES. + LYRIC AND DRAMATIC ELEMENTS IN LITERATURE AND ART 3 + DUALISM IN NATIONAL LIFE 28 + DID SHAKESPEARE WRITE BACON'S WORKS? 38 + THE EVOLUTION OF A GREAT POEM: GRAY'S ELEGY 60 + + RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL. + AFFINITIES OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY 71 + WHY I AM NOT A FREE-RELIGIONIST 90 + HAVE ANIMALS SOULS? 100 + APROPOS OF TYNDALL 128 + LAW AND DESIGN IN NATURE 149 + + HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL. + THE TWO CARLYLES, OR CARLYLE PAST AND PRESENT 162 + BUCKLE AND HIS THEORY OF AVERAGES 196 + VOLTAIRE 235 + RALPH WALDO EMERSON 270 + HARRIET MARTINEAU 284 + THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA 312 + + + + +LITERARY STUDIES + + + + +LYRIC AND DRAMATIC ELEMENTS IN LITERATURE AND ART + + +The German philosophy has made a distinction between the Subjective +and the Objective, which has been found so convenient that it has been +already naturalized and is almost acclimated in our literature. + +The distinction is this: in all thought there are two factors, the +thinker himself, and that about which he thinks. All thought, say our +friends the Germans, results from these two factors: the subject, or +the man thinking; and the object, what the man thinks about. All that +part of thought which comes from the man himself, the Ego, they call +subjective; all that part which comes from the outside world, the +non-Ego, they call objective. + +I am about to apply this distinction to literature and art; but instead +of the terms Subjective and Objective, I shall use the words Lyric and +Dramatic. + +For example, when a writer or an artist puts a great deal of himself +into his work, I call him a lyric writer or artist. Lyrical, in poetry, +is the term applied to that species of poetry which directly expresses +the individual emotions of the poet. On the other hand, I call an +artist or poet dramatic when his own personality disappears, and is +lost in that which he paints or describes. A lyric or subjective writer +gives us more of himself than of the outside world; a dramatic or +objective writer gives us more of the outside world than of himself. + +Lyric poetry is that which is to be sung; the lyre accompanies song. +Now, song is mainly personal or subjective. It expresses the singer's +personal emotions, feelings, desires; and for these reasons I select +this phrase "lyric" to express all subjective or personal utterances in +art. + +The drama, on the other hand, is a photograph of life; of live men +and women acting themselves out freely and individually. The dramatic +writer ought to disappear in his drama; if he does not do so he is not +a dramatic writer, but a lyrist in disguise. + +The dramatic element is the power of losing one's self--opinions, +feeling, character--in that which is outside and foreign, and +reproducing it just as it is. In perfect dramatic expression the +personal equation is wholly eliminated. The writer disappears in his +characters; his own hopes and fears, emotions and convictions, do not +color his work. + +But the lyric element works in the opposite way. In song, the singer +is prominent more than what he sings. He suffuses his subject with +his own thoughts and feelings. If he describes nature, he merely gives +us the feelings it awakens in his own mind. If he attempts to write a +play, we see the same actor thinly disguised reappearing in all the +parts. + +Now, there is a curious fact connected with this subject. It is that +great lyric and dramatic authors or artists are apt to appear in duads +or pairs. Whenever we meet with a highly subjective writer, we are +apt to find him associated with another as eminently objective. This +happens so often that one might imagine that each type of thought +attracts its opposite and tends to draw it out and develop it. It may +be that genius, when it acts on disciples who are persons of talent, +draws out what is like itself, and makes imitators; when it acts on a +disciple who himself possesses genius, it draws out what is opposite +to itself and develops another original thinker. Genius, like love, +is attracted by its opposite, or counterpart. Love and genius seek to +form wholes; they look for what will complete and fulfill themselves. +When, therefore, a great genius has come, fully developed on one side, +he exercises an irresistible attraction on the next great genius, +in whom the opposite side is latent, and is an important factor in +his development. Thus, perhaps, we obtain the duads, whose curious +concurrence I will now illustrate by a few striking instances. + +Beginning our survey with English literature, who are the first two +great poets whose names occur to us? Naturally, Chaucer and Spenser. +Now, Chaucer is eminently dramatic and objective in his genius; while +Spenser is distinctly a lyrical and subjective poet. + +Chaucer tells stories; and story-telling is objective. One of the most +renowned collections of stories is the "Arabian Nights;" but who knows +anything about the authors of those entertaining tales? They are merely +pictures of Eastern life, reflected in the minds of some impersonal +authors, whose names even are unknown. + +Homer is another great story-teller; and Homer is so objective, so +little of a personality, that some modern critics suppose there may +have been several Homers. + +Chaucer is a story-teller also; and in his stories everything belonging +to his age appears, except Chaucer himself. His writings are full of +pictures of life, sketches of character; in one word, he is a dramatic +or objective writer. He paints things as they are,--gives us a panorama +of his period. Knights, squires, yeomen, priests, friars, pass before +us, as in Tennyson's poem "The Lady of Shalott." + +The mind of an objective story-teller, like Chaucer, is the faithful +mirror, which impartially reflects all that passes before it, but +cracks from side to side whenever he lets a personal feeling enter his +mind, for then the drama suddenly disappears and a lyric of personal +hope or fear, gladness or sadness, takes its place. + +Spenser is eminently a lyric poet. His own genius suffuses his stories +with a summer glow of warm, tender, generous sentiment. In his +descriptions of nature he does not catalogue details, but suggests +impressions, which is the only way of truly describing nature. There +are some writers who can describe scenery, so that the reader feels as +if he had seen it himself. The secret of all such description is that +it does not count or measure, but suggests. It is not quantitative +but qualitative analysis. It does not apply a foot rule to nature, +but gives the impression made on the mind and heart by the scene. I +have never been at Frascati nor in Sicily, but I can hardly persuade +myself that I have not seen those places. I have distinct impressions +of both, simply from reading two of George Sand's stories. I have in +my mind a picture of Frascati, with deep ravines, filled with foliage; +with climbing, clustering, straggling vines and trees and bushes; with +overhanging crags, deep masses of shadow below, bright sunshine on +the stone pines above. So I have another picture of Sicilian scenery, +wide and open, with immense depths of blue sky, and long reaches of +landscape; ever-present Etna, soaring snow-clad into the still air; an +atmosphere of purity, filling the heart with calm content. It may be +that Catania and Frascati are not like this; but I feel as if I had +seen them, not as if I had heard them described. + +It is thus that Spenser describes nature; by touching some chord of +fancy in the soul. Notice this picture of a boat on the sea:-- + + "So forth they rowd; and that Ferryman + With his stiff oars did brush the sea so strong + That the hoar waters from his frigate ran, + And the light bubbles dancd all along + Whiles the salt brine out of the billows sprang; + At last, far off, they many islands spy, + On every side, floating the floods among." + +You notice that you are in the boat yourself, and everything is told +as it appears to you there; you see the bending of the "stiff oars" +by your side, and the little bubbles dancing on the water, and the +islands, not as they _are_, rock-anchored, but as they _seem_ to you, +floating on the water. This is subjective description,--putting the +reader in the place, and letting him see it all from that point of +view. So Spenser speaks of the "oars sweeping the watery wilderness;" +and of the gusty winds "filling the sails with fear." + +Perhaps the highest description ought to include both the lyric and +dramatic elements. Here is a specimen of sea description, by an almost +unknown American poet, Fenner, perfect in its way. The poem is called +"Gulf Weed:"-- + + "A weary weed washed to and fro, + Drearily drenched in the ocean brine; + Soaring high, or sinking low, + Lashed along without will of mine; + Sport of the spoom of the surging sea, + Flung on the foam afar and near; + Mark my manifold mystery, + Growth and grace in their place appear. + + "I bear round berries, gray and red, + Rootless and rover though I be; + My spangled leaves, when nicely spread, + Arboresce as a trunkless tree; + Corals curious coat me o'er + White and hard in apt array; + Mid the wild waves' rude uproar + Gracefully grow I, night and day. + + "Hearts there are on the sounding shore, + (Something whispers soft to me,) + Restless and roaming for evermore, + Like this weary weed of the sea; + Bear they yet on each beating breast + The eternal Type of the wondrous whole, + Growth unfolding amidst unrest, + Grace informing the silent soul." + +All nature becomes alive in the Spenserian description. Take, for +example, the wonderful stanza which describes the music of the "Bower +of Bliss:"-- + + "The joyous birds, shrouded in cheerful shade + Their notes unto the voice attemper'd sweet; + Th' angelical, soft, trembling voices made + To the instruments divine respondence meet; + The silver-sounding instruments did meet + With the bass murmur of the water's fall; + The water's fall, with difference discreet, + Now loud, now low, unto the winds did call; + The gentle warbling winds low answerd to all." + +Consider the splendid portrait of Belphoebe:-- + + "In her fair eyes two living lamps did flame, + Kindled above at the Heavenly Maker's light; + And darted fiery beams out of the same, + So passing piercing, and so wondrous bright, + They quite bereaved the rash beholder's sight; + In them the blinded god his lustful fire + To kindle oft essay'd but had no might, + For with dread majesty and awful ire + She broke his wanton darts and quenchd base desire. + + "Her ivory forehead, full of bounty brave, + Like a broad tablet did itself dispread, + For love his lofty triumphs to engrave, + And write the battles of his great godhead; + All good and honor might therein be read, + For there their dwelling was; and when she spake, + Sweet words, like dropping honey she did shed; + And, twixt the pearls and rubies softly brake + A silver Sound, that heavenly music seemed to make." + +If we examine this picture, we see that it is not a photograph, such as +the sun makes, but a lover's description of his mistress. He sees her, +not as she is, but as she is to _him_. He paints her out of his own +heart. In her eyes he sees, not only brilliancy and color, but heavenly +light; he reads in them an untouched purity of soul. Looking at her +forehead, he sees, not whiteness and roundness, but goodness and honor. + +Shakespeare's lovers always describe their mistresses in this way, +out of their own soul and heart. It is his own feeling that the lover +gives, seeing perhaps "Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt." + +After Chaucer and Spenser the next great English poets whose names +naturally occur to us are Shakespeare and Milton. + +Now, Shakespeare was the most objective dramatic writer who ever lived; +while Milton was eminently and wholly a subjective and lyrical writer. + +It is true that Shakespeare was so great that he is one of the very +few men of genius in whom appear both of these elements. In his plays +he is so objective that he is wholly lost in his characters, and +his personality absolutely disappears; in his sonnets he "unlocks +his heart" and is lyrical and subjective; he there gives us his +inmost self, and we seem to know him as we know a friend with whom +we have lived in intimate relations for years. Still, he will be +best remembered by his plays; and into them he put the grandeur and +universality of his genius; so we must necessarily consider him as the +greatest dramatic genius of all time. But he belonged to a group of +dramatic poets of whom he was the greatest: Ben Jonson, Beaumont and +Fletcher, Massinger, Ford, Webster,--any one of whom would make the +fortune of the stage to-day. It was a great age of dramatic literature, +and it came very naturally to meet a demand. The play then was what the +novel is to-day. As people to-day have no sooner read a new novel than +they want another, so, in Shakespeare's time, they had no sooner seen +a new play than they ran to see another. Hence the amazing fertility +of the dramatic writers. Thomas Heywood wrote the whole or a part +of two hundred and twenty plays. The manager of one of the theatres +bought a hundred and six new plays for his stage in six years; and in +the next five years a hundred and sixty. The price paid to an author +for a play would now be equal to about two or three hundred dollars. +The dramatic element, as is natural, abounds in these writings, though +in some of them the author's genius is plainly lyrical. Such, for +example, is Massinger's, who always reminds me of Schiller. Both wrote +plays, but in both writers the faculty of losing themselves in their +characters is wanting. The nobleness of Schiller appears in all his +works, and constitutes a large part of their charm. So in Massinger all +tends to generosity and elevation. His worst villains are ready to be +converted and turn saints at the least provocation. Their wickedness is +in a condition of unstable equilibrium; it topples over, and goodness +becomes supreme in a single moment. Massinger could not create really +wicked people; their wickedness is like a child's moment of passion +or willfulness, ending presently in a flood of tears, and a sweet +reconciliation with his patient mother. But how different was it with +Shakespeare! Consider his Iago. How deeply rooted was his villainy! +how it was a part of the very texture of his being! He had conformed to +it the whole philosophy of his life. His cynical notions appear in the +first scene. Iago _believes_ in meanness, selfishness, everything that +is base; to him all that seems good is either a pretense or a weakness. +The man who does not seek the gratification of his own desires is a +fool. There is to Iago nothing sweet, pure, fair, or true, in this +world or the next. He profanes everything he touches. He sneers at the +angelic innocence of Desdemona; he sneers at the generous, impulsive +soul of Othello. When some one speaks to him of virtue, he says +"Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies +are our gardens, to which our wills are gardeners." You can plant +nettles or lettuce as you please. That is to say, there is no reality +in goodness. The virtue of Desdemona will be gone to-morrow, if she +takes the whim. The Moor's faith in goodness is folly; it will cause +him to be led by the nose. There is no converting such a man as that; +or only when, by means of terrible disappointments and anguish, he is +brought to see the reality of human goodness and divine providence. And +that can hardly happen to him in this world. + +Iago is a murderer of the soul, Macbeth a murderer of the body. +The wickedness of Macbeth is different from that of Iago; that of +Shylock and of Richard Third different again from either. Macbeth +is a half-brute, a man in a low state of development, with little +intellect and strong passions. Shylock is a highly intellectual man, +not a cynic like Iago, but embittered by ill-treatment, made venomous +by cruel wrong and perpetual contempt. Oppression has made this wise +man mad. Richard Third, originally bad, has been turned into a cruel +monster by the egotism born of power. He has the contempt for his race +that belongs to the aristocrat, who looks on men in humbler places +as animals of a lower order made for his use or amusement. Now, this +wonderful power of differentiating characters belongs to the essence +of the dramatic faculty. Each of these is developed from within, from +a personal centre, and is true to that. Every manifestation of this +central life is correlated to every other. If one of Shakespeare's +characters says but ten words in one scene, and then ten words more in +another, we recognize him as the same person. His speech bewrayeth him. +So it is in human life. Every man is fatally consistent with himself. +So, after we have seen a number of pictures by any one of the great +masters, we recognize him again, as soon as we enter a gallery. We know +him by a certain style. Inferior artists have a manner; great artists +have a style; manner is born of imitation; style of originality. So, +there is a special quality in every human being, if he will only allow +it to unfold. The dramatic faculty recognizes this. Its knowledge +of man is not a philosophy, nor a mere knowledge of human nature, +but a perception of individual character. It first integrates men as +human beings; then differentiates them as individuals. Play-writers, +novelists, and artists who do not possess this dramatic genius cannot +grow their characters from within, from a personal centre of life; +but build them up from without, according to a plan. In description +of nature, however, Shakespeare is, as he ought to be, subjective and +lyric; he touches nature with human feelings. Take his description of a +brook:-- + + "The current that with gentle murmur glides + Thou know'st, being stopp'd impatiently doth rage; + But when his fair course is not hindered, + He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones, + Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge + He overtaketh in his pilgrimage, + And so by many winding nooks he strays + With willing sport to the wild ocean." + +The brook is gentle; then it becomes angry; then it is pacified and +begins to sing; then it stops to kiss the sedge; then it is a pilgrim; +and it walks _willingly_ on to the ocean. + +So in his sonnet:-- + + "Full many a glorious morning have I seen + Flatter the mountain top with sovereign eye; + Kissing with golden face the meadows green, + Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; + Anon permit the basest clouds to ride + With ugly rack on his celestial face; + And from the forlorn world his visage hide, + Stealing unseen to west with his disgrace; + Even so my sun one early morn did shine, + With all triumphant splendor on my brow; + But out, alack! he was but one hour mine; + The region cloud hath masked him from me now; + Yet him, for this, my love no whit disdaineth, + Suns of this world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth." + +From Shakespeare, the marvel of dramatic genius, turn to Milton, and we +find the opposite tendency unfolded. + +The "Paradise Lost" is indeed dramatic in form, with different +characters and dialogues, in hell, on earth, and in heaven. But in +essence it is undramatic. Milton is never for a moment lost in his +characters; his grand and noble soul is always appearing. Every one +speaks as Milton would have spoken had Milton been in the same place, +and looked at things from the same point of view. Sin and Satan, for +example, both talk like John Milton. Sin is very conscientious, and +before she will unlock the gate of hell she is obliged to argue herself +into a conviction that it is right to do so. Satan, she says, is her +father, and children ought to obey their parents; so, since he tells +her to unlock the gate, she ought to do so. Death reproaches Satan, in +good set terms, for his treason against the Almighty; and Satan, as we +all know, utters the noblest sentiments, and talks as Milton would have +talked, had Milton been in Satan's position.[1] + +Coming down nearer to our own time, we find a duad of great English +poets, usually associated in our minds,--Byron and Scott. + +Scott was almost the last of the dramatic poets of England, using the +word dramatic in its large sense. His plays never amounted to much; but +his stories in verse and in prose are essentially dramatic. In neither +does he reveal himself. In all his poetry you scarcely find a reference +to his personal feelings. In the L'Envoi to the "Lady of the Lake" +there is a brief allusion of this sort, touching because so unusual, +and almost the only one I now recall. Addressing the "Harp of the +North" he says:-- + + "Much have I owed thy strains through life's long way, + Through secret woes the world has never known, + When on the weary night dawned wearier day, + And bitterer was the grief devoured alone; + That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own." + +Scott, like Chaucer, brings before us a long succession of characters, +from many classes, countries, and times. Scotch barons and freebooters, +English kings, soldiers, gentlemen, crusaders, Alpine peasants, +medival counts, serfs, Jews, Saxons,--brave, cruel, generous,--all +sweep past us, in a long succession of pictures; but of Scott himself +nothing appears except the nobleness and purity of the tone which +pervades all. He is therefore eminently a dramatic or objective writer. + +But Byron is the exact opposite. The mighty exuberance of his genius, +which captivated his age, and the echoes of which thrill down to +ours, in all its vast overflow of passion, imagination, wit,--ever +sounded but one strain,--himself. His own woes, his own wrongs are +the ever-recurring theme. Though he wrote many dramas, he was more +undramatic than Milton. Every character in every play is merely a +thinly disguised Byron. It was impossible for him to get away from +himself. If Tennyson's lovely line tells the truth when he says,-- + + "Love took up the harp of life and smote on all its chords with + might; + Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of + sight:" + +then Byron never really loved; for in his poetry the chord of self +never passes out of sight. + +In his plays the principal characters are Byron undiluted--as Manfred, +Sardanapalus, Cain, Werner, Arnold. All the secondary characters are +Byron more or less diluted,--Byron and water, may we say? Never, since +the world began, has there been a poet so steeped in egotism, so sick +of self-love as he; and the magnificence of his genius appears in the +unfailing interest which he can give to this monotonous theme. + +But he was the example of a spirit with which the whole age was filled +to saturation. Almost all the nineteenth century poets of England are +subjective, giving us their own experience, sentiments, reflections, +philosophies. Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, Keats, revolve in this +enchanted and enchanting circle. Keats and Coleridge seem capable of +something different. So, in the double star, made up of Wordsworth +and Coleridge, the first is absolutely personal and lyric, the second +sometimes objective and dramatic. And in that other double star of +Shelley and Keats the same difference may be noted. + +A still more striking instance of the combination of these antagonisms +is to be found in our time, in Robert Browning and his wife. Mrs. +Browning is wholly lyric, like a bird which sings its own tender song +of love and hope and faith till "that wild music burdens every bough;" +and those "mournful hymns" hush the night to listening sympathy. + +But in her husband we have a genuine renaissance of the old dramatic +power of the English bards. Robert Browning is _so_ dramatic that +he forgets himself and his readers too, in his characters and their +situations. To study the varieties of men and women is his joy; to +reproduce them unalloyed, his triumph. + +One curious instance of this self-oblivious immersion in the creations +of his mind occurs to me. In one of his early poems called "In a +Gondola"--as it first appeared--two lovers are happily conversing, +until in a moment, we know not why, the tone becomes one of despair, +and they bid each other an eternal farewell. Why this change of tone +there is no explanation. In a later edition he condescends to inform +us, inserting a note to this effect: "He is surprised and stabbed." +This is the opposite extreme to Milton's angels carefully explaining to +each other that they possess a specific levity which enables them to +drop upward. + +If we think of our own poets whose names are usually +connected,--Longfellow and Lowell, for instance,--we shall easily see +which is dramatic and which lyric. But the only man of truly dramatic +faculty whom we have possessed was one in whom the quality never fully +ripened,--I mean Edgar Allan Poe. + +In foreign literature we may trace the same tendency of men of genius +to arrange themselves in couplets. Take, for instance, in Italy, +Dante and Petrarch; in France, Voltaire and Rousseau; in Germany, +Goethe and Schiller. Dante is dramatic, losing himself in his stern +subject, his dramatic characters; his awful pictures of gloomy destiny. +Petrarch is lyrical, personal, singing forever his own sad and sweet +fate. Again, Voltaire is essentially dramatic,--immersed in things, +absorbed in life, a man reveling in all human accident and adventure, +and aglow with faith in an earthly paradise. The sad Rousseau goes +apart, away from men; standing like Byron, among them, but not of them; +in a cloud of thoughts that are not their thoughts. And, once more, +though Goethe resembles Shakespeare in this, that some of his works +are subjective, and others objective,--though, in the greatness of his +mind he reconciles all the usual antagonisms of thought,--yet the fully +developed Goethe, like the fully developed Shakespeare, disappears +in his characters and theme. Life to him, in all its forms, was so +intensely interesting that his own individual and subjective sentiments +are left out of sight. But Schiller stands opposed to Goethe, as being +a dramatist devoid of dramatic genius, but full of personal power; +so grand in his nobleness of soul, so majestic in the aspirations of +his sentiment, so full of patriotic ardor and devotion to truth and +goodness, that he moves all hearts as he walks through his dramas,--the +great poet visible in every scene and every line. As his tried and +noble friend says of him in an equally undying strain:-- + + "Burned in his cheek, with ever-deepening fire, + The spirit's youth, which never passes by; + The courage, which though worlds in hate conspire, + Conquers at last their dull hostility; + The lofty faith, which ever, mounting higher, + Now presses on, now waiteth patiently; + By which the good tends ever to its goal-- + By which day lights at last the generous soul." + +Goethe's characters and stories covered the widest range: Faust, made +sick with too much thought, and seeking outward joy as a relief; +Werther, a self-absorbed sentimentalist; Tasso, an Italian man of +genius, a mixture of imagination, aspiration, sensitive self-distrust; +susceptible to opinion, sympathetic; Iphigenia, a picture of antique +calm, simplicity, purity, classic repose, like that of a statue; +Hermann and Dorothea, a sweet idyl of modern life, in a simple-minded +German village with an opinionated, honest landlord, a talkative +apothecary, a motherly landlady, a sensible and good pastor, and the +two young lovers. + +This law of duality, or reaction of genius on genius, will also be +found to apply to artists, philosophers, historians, orators. These +also come in pairs, manifesting the same antagonistic qualities. + +Some artists are lyric; putting their own souls into every face, every +figure, making even a landscape alive with their own mood; adding-- + + "A gleam + Of lustre known to neither sea nor land + But borrowed from the poet-painter's dream." + +In every landscape of Claude we find the soul of Claude; in every +rugged rock-defile of Salvator we read his mood. These artists are +lyric; but there are also great dramatic painters, who give you, not +themselves, but men and women; so real, so differentiated, characters +so full of the variety and antagonism of nature, that the whole life of +a period springs into being at their touch. + +Take for instance two names, which always go together, standing side +by side at the summit of Italian art,--Michael Angelo and Raphael. +Though Raphael was a genius of boundless exuberance, and poured on the +wall and canvas a flood of forms, creating as nature creates, without +pause or self-repetition, yet there is a tone in all which irresistibly +speaks of the artist's own soul. He created a world of Raphaels. Grace, +sweetness, and tenderness went into all his work. Every line has the +same characteristic qualities. + +Turn to the frescoes by Michael Angelo in the Sistine Chapel. As we +look up at those mighty forms--prophets, sibyls, seers, with multitudes +of subordinate figures--we gradually trace in each prophet, king, or +bard an individual character. Each one is himself. How fully each face +and attitude is differentiated by some inward life. How each--David, +Isaiah, Ezekiel, the Persian and the Libyan sibyl--stands out, +distinct, filled with a power or a tenderness all his own. Michael +Angelo himself is not there, except as a fountain of creative life, +from whose genius all these majestic persons come forth as living +realities. + +Hanging on my walls are the well-known engravings of Guido's Aurora and +Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper. One of these is purely lyrical; the +other as clearly dramatic. + +The Aurora is so exquisitely lovely, the forms so full of grace, the +movement of all the figures so rapid yet so firm, that I can never pass +it without stopping to enjoy its charms. But variety is absent. The +hours are lovely sisters, as Ovid describes sisters:-- + + "Facies non omnibus una, + Nec diversa tamen, qualis decet esse sororum." + +But when we turn to the Last Supper, we see the dramatic artist at his +best. The subject is such as almost to compel a monotonous treatment, +but there is a wonderful variety in the attitudes and grouping. Each +apostle shows by his attitude, gesture, expression, that he is affected +differently from all the others. Even the feet under the table speak. +Stand before the picture; put yourself into the attitude of each +apostle, and you will immediately understand his state of mind.[2] + +The medival religious artists were subjective, sentimental, lyrical. +In a scene like the crucifixion, all the characters, whether apostles, +Roman soldiers, or Jewish Pharisees, hang their heads like bulrushes. + +But see how Rubens, that great dramatic painter, represents the +scene. The Magdalen, wild with grief, with disheveled hair, has thrown +herself at the foot of the cross, clasping and kissing the feet of +Jesus. On the other faces are terror, dismay, doubt, unbelief, mockery, +curiosity, triumph, despair,--according to each person's character and +attitude toward the event. Meantime the Roman centurion, seated on his +splendid horse, is deliberately and carefully striking his spear into +the side of the sufferer. His face expresses only that he has a duty to +perform and means to fulfill it perfectly. + +As Rubens is greatly dramatic, his pupil and follower, Vandyke, is a +great lyrical artist, whose noble aspiration and generous sentiment +shows itself in all his work. + +The school of Venice, with Titian and Tintoretto at its head, is +grandly dramatic and objective. The school of Florence, with Guido and +Domenichino at its head, eminently lyrical and subjective. + +If we had time, we might show that the two masters of Greek philosophy, +Plato and Aristotle, are, the one lyrical, and intensely subjective, +platonizing the universe; and the other as evidently objective, +immersed in the study of things; rejoicing in their variety, their +individuality, their persistence of type. + +The two masters of Greek history, Herodotus and Thucydides, stand +opposed to each other in the same way. Herodotus is the story-teller, +the dramatic raconteur, whose charming tales are as entertaining as the +"Arabian Nights." Thucydides is the personal historian who puts himself +into his story, and determines its meaning and moral according to his +own theories and convictions. + +We have another example in Livy and Tacitus. + +The two great American orators most frequently mentioned together are +Webster and Clay. Though you would smile if I were to call either of +them a lyric or a dramatic speaker, yet the essential distinction we +have been considering may be clearly seen in them. Clay's inspiration +was personal, his influence, personal influence. His theme was nothing; +his treatment of it everything. But Webster rose or fell with the +magnitude and importance of the occasion and argument. When on the +wrong side, he failed, for his intellect would not work well except in +the service of reality and truth. But Clay was perhaps greatest when +arguing against all facts and all reason. Then he summoned all his +powers,--wit, illustration, analogy, syllogisms, appeals to feeling, +prejudice, and passion; and so swept along his confused and blinded +audience to his conclusions. + +I think that subjective writers are loved more than dramatic. We admire +the one and we love the other. We admire Shakespeare and love Milton; +we admire Chaucer and love Spenser; we admire Dante and love Petrarch; +we admire Goethe and love Schiller; and if Byron had not been so +selfish a man, we should have loved him too. We admire Michael Angelo +and love Raphael; we admire Rubens and love Vandyke; we admire Robert +Browning and love Mrs. Browning. In short, we care more for the man who +gives us himself than for the man who gives us the whole outside world. + +I have been able to give you only a few hints of this curious +distinction in art and literature. But if we carry it in our mind, we +shall find it a key by which many doors may be unlocked. It will enable +us to classify authors, and understand them better. + + + + +DUALISM IN NATIONAL LIFE + + +The science of comparative ethnology is one which has been greatly +developed during the last twenty-five years. The persistence of +race tendencies, as in the Semitic tribes, Jews and Arabs, or in +the Teutonic and Celtic branches of the great Aryan stock, has been +generally admitted. Though few would now say, with the ethnologist +Knox, "Race is everything," none would wholly dispense with this +factor, as Buckle did, in writing a history of civilization. + +Racial varieties have existed from prehistoric times. Their origin is +lost in the remote past. As far as history goes back, we find them the +same that they are now. When and how the primitive stock differentiated +itself into the great varieties which we call Aryan, Semitic, and +Turanian, no one can tell. But there are well-established varieties of +which we can trace the rise and development; I mean national varieties. +The character of an Englishman or a Frenchman is as distinctly marked +as that of a Greek or Roman. There is a general resemblance among all +Englishmen; and the same kind of resemblance among all Frenchmen, +Spaniards, Swedes, Poles. But this crystallization into national types +of character has taken place in a comparatively short period. We look +back to a time when there were no Englishmen in Great Britain; but only +Danes, Saxons, Normans, and Celts; no Frenchmen in France; but Gauls, +Franks, and Romans. Gradually a distinct quality emerges, and we have +Frenchmen, Italians, Englishmen. The type, once arrived at, persists, +and becomes more marked. It is marked by personal looks and manners, +by a common temperament, a common style of thinking, feeling, acting; +the same kind of morals and manners. This type was formed by the action +and reaction of the divers races brought side by side--Normans and +Saxons mutually influencing each other in England, and being influenced +again by climate, conditions of life, forms of government, national +customs. So, at last, we have the well-developed national character,--a +mysterious but very certain element, from which no individual can +wholly escape. All drink of that one spirit. + +Thus far I have been stating what we all know. But now I would call +your attention to a curious fact, which, so far as I am aware, has not +before been noticed. It is this,--that when two nations, during their +forming period, have been in relation to each other, there will be a +peculiar character developed in each. That is to say, they will differ +from each other according to certain well-defined lines, and these +differences will repeat themselves again and again in history, in +curious parallelisms, or dualisms. + +To take the most familiar illustration of this: consider the national +qualities of the French and English. The English and French, during +several centuries, have been acting and reacting on each other, both +in war and peace. Now, what are the typical characteristics of these +two nations? Stated in a broad way they might be described something as +follows:-- + +The English mind is more practical than ideal; its movement is slow +but persistent; its progress is by gradual development; it excels in +the industrial arts; it reverences power; it loves liberty more than +equality, not objecting to an aristocracy. It tends to individualism. +Its conquests have been due to the power of order, and adherence to law. + +The French mind is more ideal than practical; versatile, rather than +persistent; its movements rapid, its progress by crises and revolution, +rather than by development; it excels in whatever is tasteful and +artistic; it admires glory rather than power; loves equality more than +liberty; objects to an aristocracy, but is ready to yield individual +rights at the bidding of the community; renouncing individualism for +the sake of communism; and its successes have been due to enthusiasm +rather than to organization. + +Next, look at the Greeks and Romans. These peoples were in intimate +relations during the forming period of national life; and we find in +them much the same contrasts of character that we do in the English and +the French. The Romans were deficient in imagination, rather prosaic, +fond of rule and fixed methods, conservative of ancient customs. The +Greeks were quick and versatile; artistic to a high degree; producing +masterpieces of architecture, painting, statuary, and creating every +form of literature; inventing the drama, the epic poem, oratory, odes, +history, philosophy. The Romans borrowed from them their art and their +literature, but were themselves the creators of law, the organizers of +force. The Greeks and Romans were the English and French of antiquity; +and you will notice that they occupy geographically the same relative +positions,--the Greeks and French on the east; the Romans and English +on the west. + +But now observe another curious fact. The Roman Empire and the Greek +republics came to an end; and in Greece no important nationality took +the place of those wonderful commonwealths. But in Italy, by the union +of the old inhabitants with the Teutonic northern invaders, modern +Italy was slowly formed into a new national life. No longer deriving +any important influence from Greece (which had ceased to be a living +and independent force), Italy, during the Middle Ages, came into +relations with Spain and the Spaniards. In Spain, as in Italy, a new +national life was in process of formation by the union of the Gothic +tribes, the Mohammedan invaders, and the ancient inhabitants. The +Spaniards occupied Sicily in 1282, and Naples fell later into their +hands, about 1420, and in 1526 took possession of Milan. Thus Italy and +Spain were entangled in complex relations during their forming period. +What was the final result? Modern Italians became the very opposite of +the ancient Romans. The Spaniards on the west are now the Romans, and +the Italians, the Greeks. The Spaniards are slow, strong, conservative; +the Italians, quick-witted, full of feeling and sentiment, versatile. +The Spaniards trust to organization, the Italians to enthusiasm. The +Spaniards are practical, the Italians ideal. In fine, the Spaniards, on +the west, are like the English and the ancient Romans; the Italians, +on the east, like the French and the Greeks. The English pride, the +Roman pride, the Spanish pride, we have all heard of; but the French, +the Greeks, and the Italians are not so much inclined to pride and the +love of power, as to vanity and the love of fame. England, Rome, and +Spain, united by law and the love of organization, gradually became +solidified into empires; Greece, Italy, and France were always divided +into independent states, provinces, or republics. + +Now, let us go east and consider two empires that have grown up, side +by side, with constant mutual relations: Japan and China. The people +of Japan, on the east, are described by all travelers in language +that might be applied to the ancient Greeks or the modern French. They +are said to be quick-witted, lively, volatile, ready of apprehension, +with a keen sense of honor, which prefers death to disgrace; eminently +a social and pleasure-seeking people, fond of feasts, dancing, music, +and frolics. Men and women are pleasing, polite, affable. On the +other hand, the Chinese are described as more given to reason than +to sentiment, prosaic, slow to acquire, but tenacious of all that is +gained, very conservative, great lovers of law and order; with little +taste for art, but much national pride. They are the English of Asia; +the Japanese, the French. + +Go back to earlier times, when the two oldest branches of the great +Aryan stock diverged on the table-lands of central Asia; the Vedic +race descending into India, and the Zend people passing west, into +Persia. The same duplex development took place that we have seen +in other instances. The people on the Indus became what they still +are,--a people of sentiment and feeling. Like the French, they are +polite, and cultivate civility and courtesy. The same tendency to +local administration which we see in France is found in India; the +commune being, in both, the germ-cell of national life. The village +communities in India are little republics, almost independent of +anything outside. Dynasties change, new rulers and kings arrive; +Hindoo, Mohammedan, English; but the village community remains the +same. Like the Japanese, the French, the Italians, the inhabitants +of India are skillful manufacturers of ornamental articles. Their +religion tends to sentiment more than to morality,--to feeling, rather +than to action. This is the development which India took when these +races inhabited the Punjaub. But the ancient Persians were different. +Their religion included a morality which placed its essence in right +thinking and right action. A sentimental religion, like that of India +and of Italy, tends to the adoration of saints and holy images and to +multiplied ceremonies. A moral religion, like that of Persia, of Judea, +and of the Teutonic races, tends to the adoration and service of the +unseen. The Hindoos had innumerable gods, temples, idols. The Persians +worshiped the sacred fire, without temple, priest, altar, sacrifice, +or ritual. The ancient Persians, wholly unlike the modern Persians, +were a people of action, energy, enterprise. But when the old Persian +empire fell, the character of the people changed. Just as in Italy +the old Roman type disappeared, and was replaced by the opposite in +the modern Italian, so modern Persia has swung round to the opposite +pole of national character. The Persians and Turks, both professing +the Mohammedan religion, belong to different sects of that faith. The +Turks are proud, tenacious of old customs, grave in their demeanor, +generally just in their dealings, keeping their word. The Persians, as +they appear in the works of Malcolm and Monier, are changeable, kindly, +polite, given to ceremonies, fond of poetry, with taste for fine art +and decoration,--a mobile people. The Turk is silent, the Persian +talkative. The Turk is proud and cold, the Persian affable and full of +sentiment. In short, the Persian is the Frenchman, and the Turk the +Englishman. And here again, as in the other cases, the French type of +nationality unfolds itself on the east, and the English on the west. + +These national doubles have not been exhausted. We have other instances +of twin nations, born of much the same confluence of race elements, +of whom, as of Esau and Jacob, it might be predicted to the mother +race, "Two nations shall be born of thee; two kinds of people shall go +forth from thee; and the one shall be stronger than the other." Thus +there are the twin races which inhabit Sweden and Norway; the Swedes, +on the east, are more intelligent, quick-witted, and versatile; the +Norwegians, on the west, slow, persistent, and disposed to foreign +conquest and adventure, as shown in the sea-kings, who discovered +Iceland, Greenland, and Vinland; and the modern emigrants who reap the +vast wheatfields of Minnesota. So, too, we might speak of the Poles and +Germans. The Polish nation, on the east, resembling the French; the +German, on the west, the English. + +But time will not allow me to carry out these parallels into details. +The question is, are these mere coincidences, or do they belong to the +homologons of history, where the same law of progress repeats itself +under different conditions, as the skeleton of the mammal is found in +the whale. Such curious homologons we find in national events, and they +can hardly be explained as accidental coincidences. For instance, the +English and French revolutions proceeded by six identical steps. First, +an insurrection of the people. Secondly, the dethronement and execution +of the king. Thirdly, a military usurper. Fourthly, the old line +restored. Fifthly, after the death of the restored king, his brother +succeeds to the throne. Sixthly, a second revolution drives the brother +into exile, and a constitutional king of a collateral branch takes his +place. + +But if these doubles which I have described come by some mysterious law +of polar force, as in the magnet, where the two kinds of electricity +are repelled to opposite poles, and yet attract each other, how +account for the regularity of the geographical position? Why is the +French, Greek, Hindoo, Persian, Italian, Polish, Swedish type always +at the east, and the English, Roman, Iranic, Ottoman, Spanish, German, +Norwegian type always at the west? Are nations, like tides, affected +by the diurnal revolution of the globe? This, I confess, I am unable +to explain; and I leave it to others to consider whether what I have +described is pure coincidence, or if it belongs in some way to the +philosophy of history and comes under universal law. + + + + +DID SHAKESPEARE WRITE BACON'S WORKS[3] + + +The greatest of English poets is Shakespeare. The greatest prose writer +in English literature is probably Bacon. Each of these writers, alone, +is a marvel of intellectual grandeur. It is hard to understand how +one man, in a few years, could have written all the masterpieces of +Shakespeare,--thirty-six dramas, each a work of genius such as the +world will never let die. It is a marvel that from one mind could +proceed the tender charm of such poems as "Romeo and Juliet," "As You +Like It," or "The Winter's Tale;" the wild romance of "The Tempest," +or of "A Midsummer Night's Dream;" the awful tragedies of "Lear," +"Macbeth," and "Othello;" the profound philosophy of "Hamlet;" the +perfect fun of "Twelfth Night," and "The Merry Wives of Windsor;" and +the reproductions of Roman and English history. It is another marvel +that a man like Bacon, immersed nearly all his life in business, a +successful lawyer, an ambitious statesman, a courtier cultivating the +society of the sovereign and the favorites of the sovereign, should +also be the founder of a new system of philosophy, which has been the +source of many inventions and new sciences down to the present day; +should have critically surveyed the whole domain of knowledge, and +become a master of English literary style. Each of these phenomena is +a marvel; but put them together, and assume that one man did it all, +and you have, not a marvel, but a miracle. Yet, this is the result +which the monistic tendency of modern thought has reached. Several +critics of our time have attempted to show that Bacon, besides writing +all the works usually attributed to him, was also the author of all of +Shakespeare's plays and poems. + +This theory was first publicly maintained by Miss Delia Bacon in +1857. It had been, before, in 1856, asserted by an Englishman, +William Henry Smith, but only in a small volume printed for private +circulation. This book made a distinguished convert in the person of +Lord Palmerston, who openly declared his conviction that Bacon was the +author of Shakespeare's plays. Two papers by Appleton Morgan, written +in the same sense, appeared last year in "Appletons' Journal." But far +the most elaborate and masterly work in support of this attempt to +dethrone Shakespeare, and to give his seat on the summit of Parnassus +to Lord Bacon, is the book by Judge Holmes, published in 1866. He has +shown much ability, and brought forward every argument which has any +plausibility connected with it. + +Judge Holmes was, of course, obliged to admit the extreme antecedent +improbability of his position. Certainly it is very difficult to +believe that the author of such immortal works should have been +willing, for any reason, permanently to conceal his authorship; or, +if he could hide that fact, should have been willing to give the +authorship to another; or, if willing, should have been able so +effectually to conceal the substitution as to blind the eyes of all +mankind down to the days of Miss Delia Bacon and Judge Holmes. + +What, then, are the arguments used by Judge Holmes? The proofs he +adduces are mainly these: (1st) That there are many coincidences and +parallelisms of thought and expression between the works of Bacon and +Shakespeare; (2d) that there is an amount of knowledge and learning +in the plays, which Lord Bacon possessed, but which Shakespeare could +hardly have had. Besides these principal proofs, there are many other +reasons given which are of inferior weight,--a phrase in a letter of +Sir Tobie Matthew; another sentence of Bacon himself, which might be +possibly taken as an admission that he was the author of "Richard II.;" +the fact that some plays which Shakespeare certainly did not write were +first published with his name or his initials. But his chief argument +is that Shakespeare had neither the learning nor the time to write the +plays, both of which Lord Bacon possessed; and that there are curious +coincidences between the plays and the prose works. + +These arguments have all been answered, and the world still believes in +Shakespeare as before. But I have thought it might be interesting to +show how easily another argument could be made of an exactly opposite +kind,--how easily all these proofs might be reversed. I am inclined +to think that if we are to believe that one man was the author both +of the plays and of the philosophy, it is much more probable that +Shakespeare wrote the works of Bacon than that Bacon wrote the works +of Shakespeare. For there is no evidence that Bacon was a poet as well +as a philosopher; but there is ample evidence that Shakespeare was a +philosopher as well as a poet. This, no doubt, assumes that Shakespeare +actually wrote the plays; but this we have a right to assume, in the +outset of the discussion, in order to stand on an equal ground with our +opponents. + +The Bacon vs. Shakespeare argument runs thus: "Assuming that Lord +Bacon wrote the works commonly attributed to him, there is reason to +believe that he also wrote the plays and poems commonly attributed to +Shakespeare." + +The counter argument would then be: "Assuming that Shakespeare wrote +the plays, and poems commonly attributed to him, there is reason to +believe that he also wrote the works commonly attributed to Bacon." + +This is clearly the fair basis of the discussion. What is assumed on +the one side on behalf of Bacon we have a right to assume on the other +on behalf of Shakespeare. But before proceeding on this basis, I must +reply to the only argument of Judge Holmes which has much apparent +weight. He contends that it was impossible for Shakespeare, with the +opportunities he possessed, to acquire the knowledge which we find +in the plays. Genius, however great, cannot give the knowledge of +medical and legal terms, nor of the ancient languages. Now, it has +been shown that the plays afford evidence of a great knowledge of law +and medicine; and of works in Latin and Greek, French and Italian. +How could such information have been obtained by a boy who had no +advantages of study except at a country grammar school, which he +left at the age of fourteen, who went to London at twenty-three and +became an actor, and who spent most of his life as actor, theatrical +proprietor, and man of business? + +This objection presents difficulties to us, and for our time, when +boys sometimes spend years in the study of Latin grammar. We cannot +understand the rapidity with which all sorts of knowledge were imbibed +in the period of the Renaissance. Then every one studied everything. +Then Greek and Latin books were read by prince and peasant, by queens +and generals. Then all sciences and arts were learned by men and women, +by young and old. Thus speaks Robert Burton--who was forty years old +when Shakespeare died: "What a world of books offers itself, in all +subjects, arts and sciences, to the sweet content and capacity of the +reader! In arithmetic, geometry, perspective, opticks, astronomy, +architecture, _sculptura_, _pictura_, of which so many and elaborate +treatises have lately been written; in mechanics and their mysteries, +military matters, navigation, riding of horses, fencing, swimming, +gardening, planting, great tomes of husbandry, cookery, faulconry, +hunting, fishing, fowling; with exquisite pictures of all sports and +games.... What vast tomes are extant in law, physic, and divinity, +for profit, pleasure, practice.... Some take an infinite delight to +study the very languages in which these books were written: Hebrew, +Greek, Syriac, Chaldee, Arabick, and the like." This was the fashion +of that day, to study all languages, all subjects, all authors. A mind +like that of Shakespeare could not have failed to share this universal +desire for knowledge. After leaving the grammar school, he had nine +years for such studies before he went to London. As soon as he began +to write plays, he had new motives for study; for the subjects of the +drama in vogue were often taken from classic story. + +But Shakespeare had access to another source of knowledge besides +the study of books. When he reached London, five or six play-houses +were in full activity, and new plays were produced every year in +vast numbers. New plays were then in constant demand, just as the new +novel and new daily or weekly paper are called for now. The drama was +the periodical literature of the time. Dramatic authors wrote with +wonderful rapidity, borrowing their subjects from plays already on +the stage, and from classic or recent history. Marlowe, Greene, Lyly, +Peele, Kyd, Lodge, Nash, Chettle, Munday, Wilson, were all dramatic +writers before Shakespeare. Philip Henslowe, a manager or proprietor +of the theatres, bought two hundred and seventy plays in about ten +years. Thomas Heywood wrote a part or the whole of two hundred and +twenty plays during his dramatic career. Each acted play furnished +material for some other. They were the property of the play-houses, not +of the writers. One writer after another has accused Shakespeare of +indifference to his reputation, because he did not publish a complete +and revised edition of his works during his life. How could he do +this, since they did not belong to him, but to the theatre? Yet every +writer was at full liberty to make use of all he could remember of +other plays, as he saw them acted; and Shakespeare was not slow to use +this opportunity. No doubt he gained knowledge in this way, which he +afterward employed much better than did the authors from whom he took +it. + +The first plays printed under Shakespeare's name did not appear +till he had been connected with the stage eleven years. This gives +time enough for him to have acquired all the knowledge to be found +in his books. That he had read Latin and Greek books we are told by +Ben Jonson; though that great scholar undervalued, as was natural, +Shakespeare's attainments in those languages. + +But Ben Jonson himself furnishes the best reply to those who think +that Shakespeare could not have gained much knowledge of science +or literature because he did not go to Oxford or Cambridge. What +opportunities had Ben Jonson? A bricklayer by trade, called back +immediately from his studies to use the trowel; then running away and +enlisting as a common soldier; fighting in the Low Countries; coming +home at nineteen, and going on the stage; sent to prison for fighting +a duel--what opportunities for study had he? He was of a strong animal +nature, combative, in perpetual quarrels, fond of drink, in pecuniary +troubles, married at twenty, with a wife and children to support. Yet +Jonson was celebrated for his learning. He was master of Greek and +Latin literature. He took his characters from Athenus, Libanius, +Philostratus. Somehow he had found time for all this study. "Greek +and Latin thought," says Taine, "were incorporated with his own, and +made a part of it. He knew alchemy, and was as familiar with alembics, +retorts, crucibles, etc., as if he had passed his life in seeking +the philosopher's stone. He seems to have had a specialty in every +branch of knowledge. He had all the methods of Latin art,--possessed +the brilliant conciseness of Seneca and Lucan." If Ben Jonson--a +bricklayer, a soldier, a fighter, a drinker--could yet find time to +acquire this vast knowledge, is there any reason why Shakespeare, with +much more leisure, might not have done the like? He did not possess as +much Greek and Latin lore as Ben Jonson, who, probably, had Shakespeare +in his mind when he wrote the following passage in his "Poetaster:" + + "His learning savors not the school-like gloss + That most consists in echoing words and terms, + And soonest wins a man an empty name; + Nor any long or far-fetched circumstance + Wrapt in the curious generalties of art-- + But a direct and analytic sum + Of all the worth and first effects of art. + And for his poesy, 'tis so rammed with life, + That it shall gather strength of life with being, + And live hereafter more admired than now." + +The only other serious proof offered in support of the proposition +that Bacon wrote the immortal Shakespearean drama is that certain +coincidences of thought and language are found in the works of the two +writers. When we examine them, however, they seem very insignificant. +Take, as an example, two or three, on which Judge Holmes relies, and +which he thinks very striking. + +Holmes says (page 48) that Bacon quotes Aristotle, who said that +"young men were no fit hearers of moral philosophy," and Shakespeare +says ("Troilus and Cressida"):-- + + "Unlike young men whom Aristotle thought + Unfit to hear moral philosophy." + +But since Bacon's remark was published in 1605, and "Troilus and +Cressida" did not appear until 1609, Shakespeare might have seen it +there, and introduced it into his play from his recollection of the +passage in the "Advancement of Learning." + +Another coincidence mentioned by Holmes is that both writers use the +word "thrust:" Bacon saying that a ship "thrust into Weymouth;" and +Shakespeare, that "Milan was thrust from Milan." He also thinks it +cannot be an accident that both frequently use the word "wilderness," +though in very different ways. Both also compare Queen Elizabeth to a +"star." Bacon makes Atlantis an island in mid-ocean; and the island +of Prospero is also in mid-ocean. Both have a good deal to say about +"mirrors," and "props," and like phrases. + +Such reasoning as this has very little weight. You cannot prove two +contemporaneous writings to have proceeded from one author by the same +words and phrases being found in both; for these are in the vocabulary +of the time, and are the common property of all who read and write. + +My position is that if either of these writers wrote the works +attributed to the other, it is much more likely that Shakespeare wrote +the philosophical works of Bacon than that Bacon wrote the poetical +works of Shakespeare. Assuming then, as we have a right to do in this +argument, that Shakespeare wrote the plays, what reasons are there for +believing that he also wrote the philosophy? + +First, this assumption will explain at once that hitherto insoluble +problem of the contradiction between Bacon's character and conduct and +his works. How could he have been, at the same time, what Pope calls +him,-- + + "The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind"? + +He was, in his philosophy, the leader of his age, the reformer of old +abuses, the friend of progress. In his conduct, he was, as Macaulay has +shown, "far behind his age,--far behind Sir Edward Coke; clinging to +exploded abuses, withstanding the progress of improvement, struggling +to push back the human mind." In his writings, he was calm, dignified, +noble. In his life, he was an office-seeker through long years, +seeking place by cringing subservience to men in power, made wretched +to the last degree when office was denied him, addressing servile +supplications to noblemen and to the sovereign. To gain and keep office +he would desert his friends, attack his benefactors, and make abject +apologies for any manly word he might have incautiously uttered. His +philosophy rose far above earth and time, and sailed supreme in the +air of universal reason. But "his desires were set on things below. +Wealth, precedence, titles, patronage, the mace, the seals, the +coronet, large houses, fair gardens, rich manors, massy services of +plate, gay hangings," were "objects for which he stooped to everything +and endured everything." These words of Macaulay have been thought too +severe. But we defy any admirer of Bacon to read his life, by Spedding, +without admitting their essential truth. How was it possible for a man +to spend half of his life in the meanest of pursuits, and the other +half in the noblest? + +This difficulty is removed if we suppose that Bacon, the courtier and +lawyer, with his other ambitions, was desirous of the fame of a great +philosopher; and that he induced Shakespeare, then in the prime of his +powers, to help him write the prose essays and treatises which are his +chief works. He has himself admitted that he did actually ask the aid +of the dramatists of his time in writing his books. This remarkable +fact is stated by Bacon in a letter to Tobie Matthew, written in June, +1623, in which he says that he is devoting himself to making his +writings more perfect--instancing the "Essays" and the "Advancement of +Learning"--"by the help of some good pens, which forsake me not." One +of these pens was that of Ben Jonson, the other might easily have been +that of Shakespeare. Certainly there was no better pen in England at +that time than his. + +When Shakespeare's plays were being produced, Lord Bacon was fully +occupied in his law practice, his parliamentary duties, and his +office-seeking. The largest part of the Shakespeare drama was put on +the stage, as modern research renders probable, in the ten or twelve +years beginning with 1590. In 1597 Shakespeare was rich enough to buy +the new place at Stratford-on-Avon, and was also lending money. In 1604 +he was part owner of the Globe Theatre, so that the majority of the +plays which gained for him this fortune must have been produced before +that time. Now, these were just the busiest years of Bacon's life. In +1584 he was elected to Parliament. About the same time, he wrote his +famous letter to Queen Elizabeth. In 1585 he was already seeking office +from Walsingham and Burleigh. In 1586 he sat in Parliament for Taunton, +and was active in debate and on committees. He became a bencher in the +same year, and began to plead in the courts of Westminster. In 1589 he +became queen's counsel, and member of Parliament for Liverpool. After +this he continued active, both in Parliament and at the bar. He sought, +by the help of Essex, to become Attorney-General. From that period, as +crown lawyer, his whole time and thought were required to trace and +frustrate the conspiracies with which the kingdom was full. It was +evident that during these years he had no time to compose fifteen or +twenty of the greatest works in any literature. + +But how was Shakespeare occupied when Bacon's philosophy appeared? The +"Advancement of Learning" was published in 1605, after most of the +plays had been written, as we learn from the fact of Shakespeare's +purchase of houses and lands. The "Novum Organum" was published in +1620, after Shakespeare's death. But it had been written years before; +revised, altered, and copied again and again--it is said twelve times. +Bacon had been engaged upon it during thirty years, and it was at last +published incomplete and in fragments. If Shakespeare assisted in the +composition of this work, his death in 1616 would account, at once, for +its being left unfinished. And Shakespeare would have had ample time to +furnish the ideas of the "Organum" in the last years of his life, when +he had left the theatre. In 1613 he bought a house in Black Friars, +where Ben Jonson also lived. Might not this have been that they might +more conveniently coperate in assisting Bacon to write the "Novum +Organum"? + +When we ask whether it would have been easier for the author of the +philosophy to have composed the drama, or the dramatic poet to have +written the philosophy, the answer will depend on which is the greater +work of the two. The greater includes the less, but the less cannot +include the greater. Now, the universal testimony of modern criticism +in England, Germany, and France declares that no larger, deeper, or +ampler intellect has ever appeared than that which produced the +Shakespeare drama. This "myriad-minded" poet was also philosopher, +man of the world, acquainted with practical affairs, one of those who +saw the present and foresaw the future. All the ideas of the Baconian +philosophy might easily have had their home in this vast intelligence. +Great as are the thoughts of the "Novum Organum," they are far inferior +to that world of thought which is in the drama. We can easily conceive +that Shakespeare, having produced in his prime the wonders and glories +of the plays, should in his after leisure have developed the leading +ideas of the Baconian philosophy. But it is difficult to imagine that +Bacon, while devoting his main strength to politics, to law, and to +philosophy, should as a mere pastime for his leisure, have produced in +his idle moments the greatest intellectual work ever done on earth. + +If the greater includes the less, the mind of Shakespeare includes that +of Bacon, and not _vice versa_. This will appear more plainly if we +consider the quality of intellect displayed respectively in the dramas +and the philosophy. The one is synthetic, creative; the other analytic, +critical. The one puts together, the other takes apart and examines. +Now, the genius which can put together can also take apart; but it by +no means follows that the power of taking apart implies that of putting +together. A watch-maker, who can put a watch together, can easily take +it to pieces; but many a child who has taken his watch to pieces has +found it impossible to put it together again. + +When we compare the Shakespeare plays and the Baconian philosophy, it +is curious to see how the one is throughout a display of the synthetic +intellect, and the other of the analytic. The plays are pure creation, +the production of living wholes. They people our thought with a race of +beings who are living persons, and not pale abstractions. These airy +nothings take flesh and form, and have a name and local habitation +forever on the earth. Hamlet, Desdemona, Othello, Miranda, are as +real people as Queen Elizabeth or Mary of Scotland. But when we turn +to the Baconian philosophy, this faculty is absent. We have entered +the laboratory of a great chemist, and are surrounded by retorts and +crucibles, tests and re-agents, where the work done is a careful +analysis of all existing things, to find what are their constituents +and their qualities. Poetry creates, philosophy takes to pieces and +examines. + +It is, I think, a historic fact, that while those authors whose primary +quality is poetic genius have often been also, on a lower plane, +eminent as philosophers, there is, perhaps, not a single instance of +one whose primary distinction was philosophic analysis, who has also +been, on a lower plane, eminent as a poet. Milton, Petrarch, Goethe, +Lucretius, Voltaire, Coleridge, were primarily and eminently poets; +but all excelled, too, in a less degree, as logicians, metaphysicians, +men of science, and philosophers. But what instance have we of any man +like Bacon, chiefly eminent as lawyer, statesman, and philosopher, +who was also distinguished, though in a less degree, as a poet? Among +great lawyers, is there one eminent also as a dramatic or lyric author? +Cicero tried it, but his verses are only doggerel. In Lord Campbell's +list of the lord chancellors and chief justices of England no such +instance appears. If Bacon wrote the Shakespeare drama, he is the one +exception to an otherwise universal rule. But if Shakespeare coperated +in the production of the Baconian philosophy, he belongs to a class of +poets who have done the same. Coleridge was one of the most imaginative +of poets. His "Christabel" and "Ancient Mariner" are pure creations. +But in later life he originated a new system of philosophy in England, +the influence of which has not ceased to be felt to our day. The +case would be exactly similar if we suppose that Shakespeare, having +ranged the realm of imaginative poetry in his youth, had in his later +days of leisure coperated with Bacon and Ben Jonson in producing the +"Advancement of Learning" and the "Novum Organum." We can easily think +of them as meeting, sometimes at the house of Ben Jonson, sometimes +at that of Shakespeare in Black Friars, and sometimes guests at that +private house built by Lord Bacon for purposes of study, near his +splendid palace of Gorhambury. "A most ingeniously contrived house," +says Basil Montagu, "where, in the society of his philosophical +friends, he devoted himself to study and meditation." Aubrey tells +us that he had the aid of Hobbes in writing down his thoughts. Lord +Bacon appears to have possessed the happy gift of using other men's +faculties in his service. Ben Jonson, who had been a thorough student +of chemistry, alchemy, and science in all the forms then known, aided +Bacon in his observations of nature. Hobbes aided him in giving +clearness to his thoughts and his language. And from Shakespeare he +may have derived the radical and central ideas of his philosophy. He +used the help of Dr. Playfer to translate his philosophy into Latin. +Tobie Matthew gives him the last argument of Galileo for the Copernican +system. He sends his works to others, begging them to correct the +thoughts and the style. It is evident, then, that he would have been +glad of the concurrence of Shakespeare, and that could easily be had, +through their common friend, Ben Jonson. + +If Bacon wrote the plays of Shakespeare, it is difficult to give any +satisfactory reason for his concealment of that authorship. He had +much pride, not to say vanity, in being known as an author. He had his +name attached to all his other works, and sent them as presents to the +universities, and to individuals, with letters calling their attention +to these books. Would he have been willing permanently to conceal +the fact of his being the author of the best poetry of his time? +The reasons assigned by Judge Holmes for this are not satisfactory. +They are: his desire to rise in the profession of the law, the low +reputation of a play-writer, his wish to write more freely under an +incognito, and his wish to rest his reputation on his philosophical +works. But if he were reluctant to be regarded as the author of "Lear" +and "Hamlet," he was willing to be known as the writer of "Masques," +and a play about "Arthur," exhibited by the students of Gray's Inn. +It is an error to say that the reputation of a play-writer was low. +Judge Holmes, himself, tells us that there was nothing remarkable in a +barrister of the inns of court writing for the stage. Ford and Beaumont +were both lawyers as well as eminent play-writers. Lord Backhurst, +Lord Brooke, Sir Henry Wotton, all wrote plays. And we find nothing in +the Shakespeare dramas which Bacon need have feared to say under his +own name. It would have been ruin to Sir Philip Francis to have avowed +himself the author of "Junius." But the Shakespeare plays satirized no +one, and made no enemies. If there were any reasons for concealment, +they certainly do not apply to the year 1623, when the first folio +appeared, which was after the death of Shakespeare and the fall of +Bacon. The acknowledgment of their authorship at that time could no +longer interfere with Bacon's rise. And it would be very little to the +credit of his intelligence to assume that he was not then aware of the +value of such works, or that he did not desire the reputation of being +their author. It would have been contrary to his very nature not to +have wished for the credit of that authorship. + +On the other hand, there would be nothing surprising in the fact of +Shakespeare's laying no claim to credit for having assisted in the +composition of the "Advancement of Learning." Shakespeare was by nature +as reticent and modest as Bacon was egotistical and ostentatious. What +a veil is drawn over the poet's personality in his sonnets! We read in +them his inmost sentiments, but they tell us absolutely nothing of the +events of his life, or the facts of his position. And if, as we assume, +he was one among several who helped Lord Bacon, though he might have +done the most, there was no special reason why he should proclaim that +fact. + +Gervinus has shown, in three striking pages, the fundamental harmony +between the ideas and mental tendencies of Shakespeare and Bacon. Their +philosophy of man and of life was the same. If, then, Bacon needed to +be helped in thinking out his system, there was no one alive who would +have given him such stimulus and encouragement as Shakespeare. This +also may explain his not mentioning the name of Shakespeare in his +works; for that might have called too much attention to the source from +which he received this important aid. + +Nevertheless, I regard the monistic theory as in the last degree +improbable. We have two great authors, and not one only. But if we +are compelled to accept the view which ascribes a common source to +the Shakespeare drama and the Baconian philosophy, I think there are +good reasons for preferring Shakespeare to Bacon as the author of +both. When the plays appeared, Bacon was absorbed in pursuits and +ambitions foreign to such work; his accepted writings show no sign of +such creative power; he was the last man in the world not to take the +credit of such a success, and had no motive to conceal his authorship. +On the other hand, there was a period in Shakespeare's life when he had +abundant leisure to coperate in the literary plans of Bacon; his ample +intellect was full of the ideas which took form in those works; and +he was just the person neither to claim nor to desire any credit for +lending such assistance. + +There is, certainly, every reason to believe that, among his other +ambitions, Bacon desired that of striking out a new path of discovery, +and initiating a better method in the study of nature. But we know +that, in doing this, he sought aid in all quarters, and especially +among Shakespeare's friends and companions. It is highly probable, +therefore, that he became acquainted with the great dramatist, and that +Shakespeare knew of Bacon's designs and became interested in them. And +if so, who could offer better suggestions than he; and who would more +willingly accept them than the overworked statesman and lawyer, who +wished to be also a philosopher? + +Finally, we may refer those who believe that the shape of the brow and +head indicates the quality of mental power to the portraits of the two +men. The head of Shakespeare, according to all the busts and pictures +which remain to us, belongs to the type which antiquity has transmitted +to us in the portraits of Homer and Plato. In this vast dome of thought +there was room for everything. The head of Bacon is also a grand one, +but less ample, less complete--less + + "Teres, totus atque rotundus." + +These portraits therefore agree with all we know of the writings, in +showing us which, and which only, of the two minds was capable of +containing the other. + + + + +THE EVOLUTION OF A GREAT POEM[4] + + +There are at least three existing manuscripts of Grays "Elegy," in +the author's autograph. The earliest, containing the largest number +of variations and the most curious, is that now in the possession of +Sir William Fraser in London, and for which he paid the large sum +of 230, in 1875. By the kindness of Sir William Fraser, I examined +this manuscript at his rooms in London, in 1882. A facsimile copy of +this valuable autograph, photographed from the original in 1862, is +now before me. A second copy in the handwriting of Gray, called the +Pembroke manuscript, is in the library of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. A +facsimile of this autograph appears in Matthias's edition of Mason's +"Gray," published in 1814. A third copy, in the poet's handwriting, +copied by him for his friend, Dr. Wharton, is in the British Museum. I +examined this, also, in 1882, and had an accurate copy made for me by +one of the assistants in the museum. This was written after the other +two, as is evident from the fact that it approaches most nearly to the +form which the "Elegy" finally assumed when printed. There are only +nine or ten expressions in this manuscript which differ from the poem +as published by Gray. Most of these are unimportant. "_Or_" he changed, +in three places, into "and." "_And_ in our ashes" he changed into "Even +in our ashes," which was a clear improvement. It was not until after +this third copy was written that the improvement was made which changed + + "Forgive, ye Proud, the involuntary Fault, + If Memory to These no Trophies raise," + +into + + "Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, + If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise." + +Another important alteration of a single word was also made after this +third manuscript was written. This was the change, in the forty-fifth +stanza, of "Reins of Empire" into "Rod of Empire." + +"The Elegy in a Country Churchyard" became at once one of the most +popular poems in the language, and has remained so to this time. It has +been equally a favorite with common readers, with literary men, and +with poets. Its place will always be in the highest rank of English +poetry. The fact, however, is--and it is a very curious fact--that this +first-class poem was the work of a third-class poet. For Thomas Gray +certainly does not stand in the first class with Shakespeare, Spenser, +and Milton. Nor can he fairly be put in the second class with Dryden, +Pope, Burns, Wordsworth, and Byron. He belongs to the third, with +Cowley, Cowper, Shelley, and Keats. There may be a doubt concerning +some of whom I have named, but there can be no doubt that Gray will +never stand higher than those who may be placed by critics in the third +class. Yet it is equally certain that he has produced a first-class +poem. How is this paradox to be explained? + +What is the charm of Gray's "Elegy"? The thoughts are sufficiently +commonplace. That all men must die, that the most humble may have had +in them some power which, under other circumstances, might have made +them famous,--these are somewhat trite statements; but the fascination +of the verses consists in the tone, solemn but serene, which pervades +them; in the pictures of coming night, of breaking day, of cheerful +rural life, of happy homes; and lastly, in the perfect finish of the +verse and the curious felicity of the diction. In short, the poem is a +work of high art. It was not inspired, but it was carefully elaborated. +And this appears plainly when we compare it, as it stands in the Fraser +manuscript, with its final form. + +This poem was a work of eight years. Its heading in the Fraser +manuscript is "Stanzas Wrote in a Country Churchyard." It was, however, +begun at Stoke in 1742, continued at Cambridge, and had its last +touches added at Stoke-Pogis, June 12, 1750. In a letter to Horace +Walpole of that date, Gray says, "Having put an end to a thing whose +beginning you saw long ago, I immediately send it to you." + +The corrections made by Gray during this period were many, and were +probably all improvements. Many poets when they try to improve their +verses only injure them. But Gray's corrections were invariably for +the better. We may even say that, if it had been published as it was +first written, and as it now stands in the Fraser manuscript, it would +have ranked only with the best poetry of Shenstone or Cowper. Let me +indicate some of the most important changes. + +In line seventeen, the fine epithet of "incense-breathing" was an +addition. + + "The breezy call of incense-breathing morn," + +for the Fraser manuscript reads-- + + "Forever sleep. The breezy call of morn." + +Nineteenth line, Fraser manuscript has-- + + "Or chanticleer so shrill, or echoing horn," + +corrected to + + "The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn." + +Twenty-fourth--"Coming kiss" was corrected to "envied kiss." + +Forty-third--"Awake the silent dust" was corrected to "provoke the +silent dust." + +Forty-seventh--The correction of "Reins of Empire" to "Rod of Empire" +first appears in the margin of the Pembroke manuscript. + +Fifty-seventh--In the Fraser manuscript it reads-- + + "Some village Cato, who with dauntless breast, + Some mute, inglorious Tully here may rest; + Some Csar," etc. + +In the Pembroke manuscript, these classical personages have +disappeared, and the great improvement was made of substituting +Hampden, Milton, and Cromwell, and thus maintaining the English +coloring of the poem. + +Fifty-first--This verse, beginning, "But Knowledge," etc., was placed, +in the Fraser manuscript, after the one beginning, "Some village Cato," +but with a note in the margin to transfer it to where it now stands. +The third line of the stanza was first written, "Chill Penury had +damped." This was first corrected to "depressed," and afterward to +"repressed." + +Fifty-fifth--"Their fate forbade," changed to "Their lot forbade." + +Sixty-sixth--"Their struggling virtues" was improved to "Their growing +virtues." + +Seventy-first--"Crown the shrine" was altered to "heap the shrine," +and in the next line "Incense hallowed by the muse's flame" was wisely +changed to "Incense kindled by the muse's flame." + +After the seventy-second line stand, in the Fraser manuscript, the +following stanzas, which Gray, with admirable taste, afterward omitted. +But, before he decided to leave them out altogether, he drew a black +line down the margin, indicating that he would transfer them to another +place. These stanzas were originally intended to close the poem. +Afterward the thought occurred to him of "the hoary-headed swain" and +the "Epitaph." + + "The thoughtless World to Majesty may bow, + Exalt the Brave and idolize Success, + But more to Innocence their safety owe + Than Power and Genius e'er conspire to bless. + + "And thou, who, mindful of the unhonored Dead, + Dost, in these Notes, their artless Tale relate, + By Night and lonely Contemplation led + To linger in the gloomy Walks of Fate; + + "Hark, how the sacred Calm that broods around + Bids every fierce, tumultuous Passion cease, + In still, small Accents whispering from the Ground + A grateful Earnest of eternal Peace. + + "No more with Reason and thyself at Strife, + Give anxious Cares and useless Wishes room; + But through the cool, sequestered Vale of Life + Pursue the silent Tenor of thy Doom." + +After these stanzas, according to the Fraser manuscript, were to follow +these lines, which I do not remember to have seen elsewhere:-- + + "If chance that e'er some pensive Spirit more, + By sympathetic Musings here delayed, + With vain though kind Enquiry shall explore + Thy once-loved Haunt, thy long-neglected Shade, + + "Haply," etc. + +But Gray soon dispensed with this feeble stanza, and made a new one by +changing it into the one beginning:-- + + "For thee, who mindful." + +The ninety-ninth and one hundredth lines stand in the Fraser +manuscript-- + + "With hasty footsteps brush the dews away + On the high brow of yonder hanging lawn." + +The following stanza is noticeable for the inversions so frequent +in Gray, and which he had, perhaps, unconsciously adopted from his +familiarity with the classics. He afterward omitted it:-- + + "Him have we seen the greenwood side along, + While o'er the heath we hied, our labors done. + Oft as the wood-lark piped her farewell song, + With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun." + +In the manuscript the word is spelled "whistful." In line 101, "hoary +beech" is corrected to "spreading beech," and afterward to "nodding +beech." + +Line 113--"Dirges meet" was changed to "dirges dire;" and after 116 +came the beautiful stanza, afterward omitted by Gray as being _de trop_ +in this place:-- + + "There, scattered oft, the earliest of the year, + By hands unseen, are showers of violets found; + The redbreast loves to build and warble there, + And little footsteps lightly print the ground." + +Even in this verse there were two corrections. "Robin" was altered in +the Fraser manuscript into "redbreast," and "frequent violets" into +"showers of violets." + +One of the most curious accidents to which this famous poem has been +subjected was an erroneous change made in the early editions, which has +been propagated almost to our time. In the stanza beginning-- + + "The boast of Heraldry, the pomp of Power," + +Gray wrote + + "Awaits alike the inevitable Hour." + +And so it stands in all three manuscripts, and in the printed edition +which he himself superintended. His meaning was, "The inevitable Hour +awaits everything. It stands there, waiting the boast of Heraldry," +etc. But his editors, misled by his inverted style, supposed that it +was the gifts of Heraldry, Power, Beauty, etc., that were waiting, and +therefore corrected what they thought Gray's bad grammar, and printed +the word "await." But so they destroyed the meaning. These things were +not waiting at all for the dread hour; they were enjoying themselves, +careless of its approach. But "the hour" was waiting for them. Gray's +original reading has been restored in the last editions. + +In tracing the development of this fine poem, we see it gradually +improving under his careful touch, till it becomes a work of high art. +In some poets--Wordsworth, for example--inspiration is at its maximum, +and art at its minimum. In Gray, I think, inspiration was at its +minimum, and art at its maximum. + + + + +RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL + + + + +AFFINITIES OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY[5] + + +It has long been known that many analogies exist between Buddhism +and Christianity. The ceremonies, ritual, and rites of the Buddhists +strikingly resemble those of the Roman Catholic Church. The Buddhist +priests are monks. They take the same three vows of poverty, chastity, +and obedience which are binding on those of the Roman Church. They are +mendicants, like the mendicant orders of St. Francis and St. Dominic. +They are tonsured; use strings of beads, like the rosary, with which +to count their prayers; have incense and candles in their worship; use +fasts, processions, litanies, and holy water. They have something akin +to the adoration of saints; repeat prayers in an unknown tongue; have +a chanted psalmody with a double choir; and suspend the censer from +five chains. In China, some Buddhists worship the image of a virgin, +called the Queen of Heaven, having an infant in her arms, and holding a +cross. In Thibet the Grand Lamas wear a mitre, dalmatica, and cope, and +pronounce a benediction on the laity by extending the right hand over +their heads. The Dalai-Lama resembles the Pope, and is regarded as the +head of the Church. The worship of relics is very ancient among the +Buddhists, and so are pilgrimages to sacred places. + +Besides these resemblances in outward ceremonies, more important ones +appear in the inner life and history of the two religions. Both belong +to those systems which derive their character from a human founder, and +not from a national tendency; to the class which contains the religions +of Moses, Zoroaster, Confucius, and Mohammed, and not to that in which +the Brahmanical, Egyptian, Scandinavian, Greek, and Roman religions +are found. Both Buddhism and Christianity are catholic, and not +ethnic; that is, not confined to a single race or nation, but by their +missionary spirit passing beyond these boundaries, and making converts +among many races. Christianity began among the Jews as a Semitic +religion, but, being rejected by the Jewish nation, established itself +among the Aryan races of Europe. In the same way Buddhism, beginning +among an Aryan people--the Hindoos--was expelled from Hindostan, and +established itself among the Mongol races of Eastern Asia. Besides its +resemblances to the Roman Catholic side of Christendom, Buddhism has +still closer analogies with the Protestant Church. Like Protestantism, +it is a reform, which rejects a hierarchal system and does away with +a priestly caste. Like Protestantism, it has emphasized the purely +humane side of life, and is a religion of humanity rather than of +piety. Both the Christian and Buddhist churches teach a divine +incarnation, and both worship a God-man. + +Are these remarkable analogies only casual resemblances, or are they +real affinities? By affinity we here mean genetic relationship. Are +Buddhism and Christianity related as mother and child, one being +derived from the other; or are they related by both being derived from +some common ancestor? Is either derived from the other, as Christianity +from Judaism, or Protestantism from the Papal Church? That there can +be no such affinity as this seems evident from history. History shows +no trace of the contact which would be required for such influence. +If Christianity had taken its customs from Buddhism, or Buddhism from +Christianity, there must have been ample historic evidence of the fact. +But, instead of this, history shows that each has grown up by its own +natural development, and has unfolded its qualities separately and +alone. The law of evolution also teaches that such great systems do not +come from imitation, but as growths from a primal germ. + +Nor does history give the least evidence of a common ancestry from +which both took their common traits. We know that Buddhism was derived +from Brahmanism, and that Christianity was derived from Judaism. Now, +Judaism and Brahmanism have few analogies; they could not, therefore, +have transmitted to their offspring what they did not themselves +possess. Brahmanism came from an Aryan stock, in Central Asia; Judaism +from a Semitic stem, thousands of miles to the west. If Buddhism and +Christianity came from a common source, that source must have antedated +both the Mosaic and Brahmanical systems. Even then it would be a case +of atavism in which the original type disappeared in the children, to +reappear in the later descendants. + +Are, then, these striking resemblances, and others which are still to +be mentioned, only accidental analogies? This does not necessarily +follow; for there is a third alternative. They may be what are +called in science homologies; that is, the same law working out +similar results under the same conditions, though under different +circumstances. The whale lives under different circumstances from other +mammalia; but being a mammal, he has a like osseous structure. What +seems to be a fin, being dissected, turns out to be an arm, with hand +and fingers. There are like homologies in history. Take the instance of +the English and French revolutions. In each case the legitimate king +was tried, condemned, and executed. A republic followed. The republic +gave way before a strong-handed usurper. Then the original race of +kings was restored; but, having learned nothing and forgotten nothing, +they were displaced a second time, and a constitutional monarch placed +on the throne, who, though not the legitimate king, still belonged +to the same race. Here the same laws of human nature have worked out +similar results; for no one would suggest that France had copied its +revolutions from England. And, in religion, human nature reproduces +similar customs and ceremonies under like conditions. When, for +instance, you have a mechanical system of prayer, in which the number +of prayers is of chief importance, there must be some way of counting +them, and so the rosary has been invented independently in different +religions. We have no room to point out how this law has worked in +other instances; but it is enough to refer to the principle. + +Besides these resemblances between Buddhism and Christianity, there are +also some equally remarkable differences, which should be noticed. + +The first of these is the striking fact that Buddhism has been unable +to recognize the existence of the Infinite Being. It has been called +atheism by the majority of the best authorities. Even Arthur Lillie, +who defends this system from the charge of agnosticism, says:[6] "An +agnostic school of Buddhism without doubt exists. It professes plain +atheism, and holds that every mortal, when he escapes from re-births, +and the causation of Karma by the awakenment of the Bodhi or gnosis, +will be annihilated. This Buddhism, by Eugne Burnouf, Saint-Hilaire, +Max Mller, Csoma de Krs, and, I believe, almost every writer of +note, is pronounced the original Buddhism,--the Buddhism of the South." +Almost every writer of note, therefore, who has studied Buddhism in +the Pli, Singhalese, Chinese, and other languages, and has had direct +access to its original sources, has pronounced it a system of atheism. +But this opinion is opposed to the fact that Buddhists have everywhere +worshiped unseen and superhuman powers, erected magnificent temples, +maintained an elaborate ritual, and adored Buddha as the supreme ruler +of the worlds. How shall we explain this paradox? All depends on the +definition we give to the word "atheism." If a system is atheistic +which sees only the temporal, and not the eternal; which knows no +God as the author, creator, and ruler of Nature; which ascribes the +origin of the universe to natural causes, to which only the finite is +knowable, and the infinite unknowable--then Buddhism is atheism. But, +in that case, much of the polytheism of the world must be regarded as +atheism; for polytheism has largely worshiped finite gods. The whole +race of Olympian deities were finite beings. Above them ruled the +everlasting necessity of things. But who calls the Greek worshipers +atheists? The Buddha, to most Buddhists, is a finite being, one who has +passed through numerous births, has reached Nirvana, and will one day +be superseded by another Buddha. Yet, for the time, he is the Supreme +Being, Ruler of all the Worlds. He is the object of worship, and +really divine, if in a subordinate sense. + +I would not, therefore, call this religion atheism. No religion which +worships superhuman powers can justly be called atheistic on account of +its meagre metaphysics. How many Christians there are who do not fully +realize the infinite and eternal nature of the Deity! To many He is no +more than the Buddha is to his worshipers,--a supreme being, a mighty +ruler, governing all things by his will. How few see God everywhere +in nature, as Jesus saw Him, letting his sun shine on the evil and +good, and sending his rain on the just and unjust. How few see Him in +all of life, so that not a sparrow dies, or a single hair of the head +falls, without the Father. Most Christians recognize the Deity only as +occasionally interfering by special providences, particular judgments, +and the like. + +But in Christianity this ignorance of the eternal nature of God is the +exception, while in Buddhism it is the rule. In the reaction against +Brahmanism, the Brahmanic faith in the infinite was lost. In the +fully developed system of the ancient Hindoo religion the infinite +overpowered the finite, the temporal world was regarded as an illusion, +and only the eternal was real. The reaction from this extreme was so +complete as to carry the Buddhists to the exact opposite. If to the +Brahman all the finite visible world was only _maya_--illusion, to the +Buddhists all the infinite unseen world was unknowable, and practically +nothing. + +Perhaps the most original feature of Christianity is the fact +that it has combined in a living synthesis that which in other +systems was divided. Jesus regarded love to God and love to man as +identical,--positing a harmonious whole of time and eternity, piety +and humanity, faith and works,--and thus laid the foundation of a +larger system than either Brahmanism or Buddhism. He did not invent +piety, nor discover humanity. Long before he came the Brahmanic +literature had sounded the deepest depths of spiritual life, and the +Buddhist missionaries had preached universal benevolence to mankind. +But the angelic hymn which foretold the new religion as bringing at +once "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will to +men" indicated the essence of the faith which was at the same time a +heavenly love and an earthly blessing. This difference of result in the +two systems came probably from the different methods of their authors. +With Jesus life was the source of knowledge; the life was the light of +men. With the Buddha, reflection, meditation, thought was the source +of knowledge. In this, however, he included intuition no less than +reflection. Sakya-muni understood perfectly that a mere intellectual +judgment possessed little motive power; therefore he was not satisfied +till he had obtained an intuitive perception of truth. That alone gave +at once rest and power. But as the pure intellect, even in its highest +act, is unable to grasp the infinite, the Buddha was an agnostic on +this side of his creed by the very success of his method. Who, by +searching, can find out God? The infinite can only be known by the +process of living experience. This was the method of Jesus, and has +been that of his religion. For what is faith but that receptive state +of mind which waits on the Lord to receive the illumination which it +cannot create by its own processes? However this may be, it is probable +that the fatal defect in Buddhism which has neutralized its generous +philanthropy and its noble humanities has been the absence of the +inspiration which comes from the belief in an eternal world. Man is +too great to be satisfied with time alone, or eternity alone; he needs +to live from and for both. Hence, Buddhism is an arrested religion, +while Christianity is progressive. Christianity has shown the capacity +of outgrowing its own defects and correcting its own mistakes. For +example, it has largely outgrown its habit of persecuting infidels and +heretics. No one is now put to death for heresy. It has also passed out +of the stage in which religion is considered to consist in leaving the +world and entering a monastery. The anchorites of the early centuries +are no longer to be found in Christendom. Even in Catholic countries +the purpose of monastic life is no longer to save the soul by ascetic +tortures, but to attain some practical end. The Protestant Reformation, +which broke the yoke of priestly power and set free the mind of +Europe, was a movement originating in Christianity itself, like other +developments of a similar kind. No such signs of progress exist in +the system of Buddhism. It has lost the missionary ardor of its early +years; it has ceased from creating a vast literature such as grew up in +its younger days; it no longer produces any wonders of architecture. +It even lags behind the active life of the countries where it has its +greatest power. + +It is a curious analogy between the two systems that, while neither +the Christ nor the Buddha practiced or taught asceticism, their +followers soon made the essence of religion to consist in some form +of monastic life. Both Jesus and Sakya-muni went about doing good. +Both sent their followers into the world to preach a gospel. Jesus, +after thirty years of a retired life, came among men "eating and +drinking," and associating with "publicans and sinners." Sakya-muni, +after spending some years as an anchorite, deliberately renounced that +mode of religion as unsatisfactory, and associated with all men, as +Jesus afterward did. Within a few centuries after their death, their +followers relapsed into ascetic and monastic practices; but with this +difference, that while in Christendom there has always been both a +regular and a secular clergy, in the Buddhist countries the whole +priesthood live in monasteries. They have no parish priests, unless +as an exception. While in Christian countries the clergy has become +more and more a practical body, in sympathy with the common life, in +Buddhist lands they live apart and exercise little influence on the +civil condition of the people. + +Nor must we pass by the important fact that the word Christendom +is synonymous with a progressive civilization, while Buddhism is +everywhere connected with one which is arrested and stationary. The +boundaries of the Christian religion are exactly coextensive with +the advance of science, art, literature; and with the continued +accumulation of knowledge, power, wealth, and the comforts of human +life. According to Kuenen,[7] one of the most recent students of these +questions, this difference is due to the principle of hope which exists +in Christianity, but is absent in Buddhism. The one has always believed +in a kingdom of God here and a blessed immortality hereafter. Buddhism +has not this hope; and this, says Kuenen, "is a blank which nothing can +fill." So large a thinker as Albert Rville has expressed his belief +that even the intolerance of Christianity indicated a passionate love +of truth which has created modern science. He says that "if Europe had +not passed through those ages of intolerance, it is doubtful whether +the science of our day would ever have arrived."[8] It is only within +the boundaries of nations professing the Christian faith that we must +go to-day to learn the latest discoveries in science, the best works +of art, the most flourishing literature. Only within the same circle +of Christian states is there a government by law, and not by will. +Only within these boundaries have the rights of the individual been +secured, while the power of the state has been increased. Government +by law, joined with personal freedom, is only to be found where the +faith exists which teaches that God not only supports the universal +order of natural things, but is also the friend of the individual soul; +and in just that circle of states in which the doctrine is taught that +there is no individual soul for God to love and no Divine presence in +the order of nature, human life has subsided into apathy, progress has +ceased, and it has been found impossible to construct national unity. +Saint-Hilaire affirms[9] that "in politics and legislation the dogma +of Buddhism has remained inferior even to that of Brahmanism," and +"has been able to do nothing to constitute states or to govern them by +equitable rules." These Buddhist nations are really six: Siam, Burma, +Nepaul, Thibet, Tartary, and Ceylon. The activity and social progress +in China and Japan are no exceptions to this rule; for in neither +country has Buddhism any appreciable influence on the character of the +people. + +To those who deny that the theology of a people influences its +character, it may be instructive to see how exactly the good and evil +influences of Buddhism correspond to the positive and negative traits +of its doctrine. Its merits, says Saint-Hilaire, are its practical +character, its abnegation of vulgar gratifications, its benevolence, +mildness, sentiment of human equality, austerity of manners, dislike of +falsehood, and respect for the family. Its defects are want of social +power, egotistical aims, ignorance of the ideal good, of the sense of +human right and human freedom, skepticism, incurable despair, contempt +of life. All its human qualities correspond to its doctrinal teaching +from the beginning. It has always taught benevolence, patience, +self-denial, charity, and toleration. Its defects arise inevitably +from its negative aim,--to get rid of sorrow and evil by sinking into +apathy, instead of seeking for the triumph of good and the coming of a +reign of God here on the earth. + +As regards the Buddha himself, modern students differ widely. Some, of +course, deny his very existence, and reduce him to a solar myth. M. +Emile Senart, as quoted by Oldenberg,[10] following the Lalita Vistara +as his authority, makes of him a solar hero, born of the morning cloud, +contending by the power of light with the demons of darkness, rising in +triumph to the zenith of heavenly glory, then passing into the night of +Nirvana and disappearing from the scene. + +The difficulty about this solar myth theory is that it proves too +much; it is too powerful a solvent; it would dissolve all history. How +easy it would be, in a few centuries, to turn General Washington and +the American Revolution into a solar myth! Great Britain, a region of +clouds and rain, represents the Kingdom of Darkness; America, with more +sunshine, is the Day. Great Britain, as Darkness, wishes to devour the +Young Day, or dawn of light, which America is about to diffuse over the +earth. But Washington, the solar hero, arrives. He is from Virginia, +that is, born of a virgin. He was born in February, in the sign of +Aquarius and the Fishes,--plainly referring to the birth of the sun +from the ocean. As the sun surveys the earth, so Washington was said to +be a surveyor of many regions. The story of the fruitless attempts of +the Indians to shoot him at Braddock's defeat is evidently legendary; +and, in fact, this battle itself must be a myth, for how can we suppose +two English and French armies to have crossed the Atlantic, and then +gone into a wilderness west of the mountains, to fight a battle? So +easy is it to turn history into a solar myth. + +The character of Sakya-muni must be learned from his religion and from +authentic tradition. In many respects his character and influence +resembled that of Jesus. He opposed priestly assumptions, taught the +equality and brotherhood of man, sent out disciples to teach his +doctrine, was a reformer who relied on the power of truth and love. +Many of his reported sayings resemble those of Jesus. He was opposed +by the Brahmans as Jesus by the Pharisees. He compared the Brahmans +who followed their traditions to a chain of blind men, who move on, +not seeing where they go.[11] Like Jesus, he taught that mercy was +better than sacrifices. Like Jesus, he taught orally, and left no +writing. Jesus did not teach in Hebrew, but in the Aramaic, which was +the popular dialect, and so the Buddha did not speak to the people in +Sanskrit, but in their own tongue, which was Pli. Like Jesus, he seems +to have instructed his hearers by parables or stories. He was one of +the greatest reformers the world has ever seen; and his influence, +after that of the Christ, has probably exceeded that of any one who +ever lived. + +But, beside such real resemblances between these two masters, we are +told of others still more striking, which would certainly be hard to +explain unless one of the systems had borrowed from the other. These +are said to be the prexistence of Buddha in heaven; his birth of a +virgin; salutation by angels; presentation in the temple; baptism by +fire and water; dispute with the doctors; temptation in the wilderness; +transfiguration; descent into hell; ascension into heaven.[12] If +these legends could be traced back to the time before Christ, then it +might be argued that the Gospels have borrowed from Buddhism. Such, +however, is not the fact. These stories are taken from the Lalita +Vistara, which, according to Rhys Davids,[13] was probably composed +between six hundred and a thousand years after the time of Buddha, by +some Buddhist poet in Nepaul. Rhys Davids, one of our best authorities, +says of this poem: "As evidence of what early Buddhism actually was, +it is of about the same value as some medival poem would be of the +real facts of the gospel history."[13] M. Ernest de Bunsen, in his work +on the "Angel Messiah," has given a very exhaustive statement, says +Mr. Davids, of all the possible channels through which Christians can +be supposed to have borrowed from the Buddhists. But Mr. Davids's +conclusion is that he finds no evidence of any such communications of +ideas from the East to the West.[14] The difference between the wild +stories of the Lalita Vistara and the sober narratives of the Gospels +is quite apparent. Another writer, Professor Seydel,[15] thinks, after +a full and careful examination, that only five facts in the Gospels +may have been borrowed from Buddhism. These are: (1) The fast of Jesus +before his work; (2) The question in regard to the blind man--"Who did +sin, this man, or his parents"? (3) The prexistence of Christ; (4) The +presentation in the Temple; (5) Nathanael sitting under a fig-tree, +compared with Buddha under a Bo-tree. But Kuenen has examined these +parallels, and considers them merely accidental coincidences. And, in +truth, it is very hard to conceive of one religion borrowing its facts +or legends from another, if that other stands in no historic relation +to it. That Buddhism should have taken much from Brahmanism is natural; +for Brahmanism was its mother. That Christianity should have borrowed +many of its methods from Judaism is equally natural; for Judaism was +its cradle. Modern travelers in Burma and Tartary have found that the +Buddhists hold a kind of camp-meeting in the open air, where they pray +and sing. Suppose that some critic, noticing this, should assert that, +when Wesley and his followers established similar customs, they must +have borrowed them from the Buddhists. The absurdity would be evident. +New religions grow, they are not imitations. + +It has been thought, however, that Christianity was derived from the +Essenes, because of certain resemblances, and it is argued that the +Essenes must have obtained their monastic habits from the Therapeut +in Egypt, and that the Therapeut received them from the Buddhists, +because they could not have found them elsewhere. This theory, however, +has been dismissed from the scene by the young German scholar,[16] +who has proved that the essay on the Therapeut ascribed to Philo was +really written by a Christian anchorite in the third or fourth century. + +The result, then, of our investigation, is this: There is no +probability that the analogies between Christianity and Buddhism have +been derived the one from the other. They have come from the common and +universal needs and nature of man, which repeat themselves again and +again in like positions and like circumstances. That Jesus and Buddha +should both have retired into the wilderness before undertaking their +great work is probable, for it has been the habit of other reformers +to let a period of meditation precede their coming before the world. +That both should have been tempted to renounce their enterprise is +also in accordance with human nature. That, in after times, the simple +narratives should be overlaid with additions, and a whole mass of +supernatural wonders added,--as we find in the Apocryphal Gospels and +the Lalita Vistara,--is also in accordance with the working of the +human mind. + +Laying aside all such unsatisfactory resemblances, we must regard the +Buddha as having been one of the noblest of men, and one whom Jesus +would have readily welcomed as a fellow worker and a friend. He opposed +a dominant priesthood, maintained the equal religious rights of all +mankind, overthrew caste, encouraged woman to take her place as man's +equal, forbade all bloody sacrifices, and preached a religion of peace +and good will, seeking to triumph only in the fair conflict of reason +with reason. If he was defective in the loftiest instincts of the soul; +if he knew nothing of the infinite and eternal; if he saw nothing +permanent in the soul of man; if his highest purpose was negative,--to +escape from pain, sorrow, anxiety, toil,--let us still be grateful for +the influence which has done so much to tame the savage Mongols, and to +introduce hospitality and humanity into the homes of Lassa and Siam. If +Edwin Arnold, a poet, idealizes him too highly, it is the better fault, +and should be easily forgiven. Hero-worshipers are becoming scarce in +our time; let us make the most of those we have. + + + + +WHY I AM NOT A FREE-RELIGIONIST[17] + + +What is meant by "Free Religion"? I understand by it, individualism in +religion. It is the religious belief which has made itself independent +of historic and traditional influences, so far as it is in the power +of any one to attain such independence. In Christian lands it means a +religion which has cut loose from the Bible and the Christian Church, +and which is as ready to question the teaching of Jesus as that of +Socrates or Buddha. It is, what Emerson called himself, an endless +seeker, with no past behind it. It is entire trust in the private +reason as the sole authority in matters of religion. + +Free Religion may be regarded as Protestantism carried to its ultimate +results. A Protestant _Christian_ accepts the leadership of Jesus, and +keeps himself in the Christian communion; but he uses his own private +judgment to discover what Jesus taught, and what Christianity really +is. The Free Religionist goes a step farther, and decides by his own +private judgment what is true and what false, no matter whether taught +by Jesus or not. + +Free Religion, as thus understood, seems to me opposed to the law of +evolution, and incompatible with it. Evolution educes the present from +the past by a continuous process. Free Religion cuts itself loose +from the past, and makes every man the founder of his own religion. +According to the law of evolution, confirmed by history, every advance +in religion is the development from something going before. Jewish +monotheism grew out of polytheism; Christianity and Mohammedanism out +of Judaism; Buddhism out of Brahmanism; Protestant Christianity out of +the Roman Catholic Church. Jesus himself said, "Think not that I am +come to destroy the Law or the Prophets: I am not come to destroy, but +to fulfil." The higher religions are not made; they grow. Of each it +may be said, as of the poet: "Nascitur, non fit." Therefore, if there +is to arrive something higher than our existing Christianity, it must +not be a system which forsakes the Christian belief, but something +developed from it. + +According to the principle of evolution, every growing and productive +religion obeys the laws of heredity and of variation. It has an +inherited common life, and a tendency to modification by individual +activity. Omit or depress either factor, and the religion loses its +power of growth. Without a common life, the principle of development +is arrested. He who leaves the great current which comes from the +past loses headway. This current, in the Christian communion, is the +inherited spirit of Jesus. It is his life, continued in his Church; +his central convictions of love to God and to man; of fatherhood +and brotherhood; of the power of truth to conquer error, of good to +overcome evil; of a Kingdom of Heaven to come to us here. It is the +faith of Jesus in things unseen; his hope of the triumph of right +over wrong; his love going down to the lowliest child of God. These +vital convictions in the soul of Jesus are communicated by contact +from generation to generation. They are propagated, as he suggested, +like leaven hidden in the dough. By a different figure, Plato, in +his dialogue of Ion, shows that inspiration is transmitted like the +magnetic influence, which causes iron rings to adhere and hang together +in a chain. Thoughts and opinions are communicated by argument, +reasoning, speech, and writing; but faith and inspiration by the +influence of life on life. The life of Jesus is thus continued in his +Church, and those who stand outside of it lose much of this transmitted +and sympathetic influence. Common life in a religious body furnishes +the motive force which carries it forward, while individual freedom +gives the power of improvement. The two principles of heredity and +variation must be united in order to combine union and freedom, and +to secure progress. Where freedom of thought ceases, religion becomes +rigid. It is incapable of development. Such, for instance, is the +condition of Buddhism, which, at first full of intellectual activity, +has now hardened into a monkish ritual. + +Free Religion sacrifices the motive power derived from association +and religious sympathy for the sake of a larger intellectual freedom. +The result is individualism. It founds no churches, but spends much +force in criticising the Christian community, its belief, and its +methods. These are, no doubt, open to criticism, which would do good +if administered sympathetically and from within, but produce little +result when delivered in the spirit of antagonism. Imperfect as the +Christian Church is, it ought to be remembered that in it are to be +found the chief strength and help of the charities, philanthropies, and +moral reforms of our time. Every one who has at heart a movement for +the benefit of humanity appeals instinctively for aid to the Christian +churches. It is in these that such movements usually originate, and are +carried on. Even when, as in the antislavery movement, a part of the +churches refuse to sympathize with a new moral or social movement, the +reproaches made against them show that in the mind of the community +an interest in all humane endeavor is considered to be a part of +their work. The common life and convictions of these bodies enable +them to accomplish what individualism does not venture to undertake. +Individualism is incapable of organized and sustained work of this +sort, though it can, and often does, coperate earnestly with it. + +The teaching of Jesus is founded on the synthesis of Truth and Love. +Jesus declares himself to have been born "to bear witness to the +truth," and he also makes love, divine and human, the substance of his +gospel. The love element produces union, the truth element, freedom. +Union without freedom stiffens into a rigid conservatism. Freedom +without union breaks up into an intellectual atomism. The Christian +churches have gone into both extremes, but never permanently; for +Christianity, as long as it adheres to its founder and his ideas, has +the power of self-recovery. Its diseases are self-limited. + +It has had many such periods, but has recovered from them. It passed +through an age in which it ran to ascetic self-denial, and made saints +of self-torturing anchorites. It afterward became a speculative system, +and tended to metaphysical creeds and doctrinal distinctions. It became +a persecuting church, burning heretics and Jews, and torturing infidels +as an act of faith. It was tormented by dark superstitions, believing +in witchcraft and magic. But it has left all these evils behind. No +one is now put to death for heresy or witchcraft. The monastic orders +in the Church are preachers and teachers, or given to charity. No +one could be burned to-day as a heretic. No one to-day believes in +witchcraft. The old creeds which once held the Church in irons are +now slowly disintegrating. But reform, as I have said, must come from +within, by the gradual elimination of those inherited beliefs which +interfere with the unity of the Church and the leadership of Christ +himself. The Platonic and Egyptian Trinity remaining as dogma, repeated +but not understood,--the Manichan division of the human race into +children of God and children of the Devil,--the scholastic doctrine of +the Atonement, by which the blood of Jesus expiates human guilt,--are +being gradually explained in accordance with reason and the teaching of +Jesus. + +Some beliefs, once thought to be of vital importance, are now seen by +many to be unessential, or are looked at in a different light. Instead +of making Jesus an exceptional person, we are coming to regard him as +a representative man, the realized ideal of what man was meant to be, +and will one day become. Instead of considering his sinlessness as +setting him apart from his race, we look on it as showing that sin is +not the natural, but unnatural, condition of mankind. His miracles are +regarded not as violations of the laws of nature, but anticipations of +laws which one day will be universally known, and which are boundless +as the universe. Nor will they in future be regarded as evidence of +the mission of Jesus, since he himself was grieved when they were +so looked upon, and he made his truth and his character the true +evidence that he came from God. The old distinction between "natural" +and "supernatural" will disappear when it is seen that Jesus had a +supernatural work and character, the same in kind as ours, though +higher in degree. The supreme gifts which make him the providential +leader of the race do not set him apart from his brethren if we see +that it is a law of humanity that gifts differ, and that men endowed +with superior powers become leaders in science, art, literature, +politics; as Jesus has become the chief great spiritual leader of +mankind. + +Men are now searching the Scriptures, not under the bondage of an +infallible letter, but seeking for the central ideas of Jesus and +the spirit of his gospel. They begin to accept the maxim of Goethe: +"No matter how much the gospels contradict each other, provided the +Gospel does not contradict itself." The profound convictions of +Christ, which pervade all his teaching, give the clue by which to +explain the divergences in the narrative. We interpret the letter by +the light of the spirit. We see how Jesus emphasized the law of human +happiness,--that it comes from within, not from without; that the pure +in heart see God, and that it is more blessed to give than to receive. +We comprehend the stress he lays on the laws of progress,--that he who +humbleth himself shall be exalted. We recognize his profound conviction +that all God's children are dear to him, that his sun shines on the +evil and the good, and that he will seek the one lost sheep till he +find it. We see his trust in the coming of the Kingdom of God in this +world, the triumph of good over evil, and the approaching time when the +knowledge of God shall fill the earth as the waters cover the sea. And +we find his profound faith in the immortal life which abides in us, so +that whoever shares that faith with him can never die. + +The more firmly these central ideas of Jesus are understood and held, +the less importance belongs to any criticism of the letter. This or +that saying, attributed to Jesus in the record, maybe subjected to +attack; but it is the main current of his teaching which has made him +the leader of civilized man for eighteen centuries. That majestic +stream will sweep on undisturbed, though there may be eddies here or +stagnant pools there, which induce hasty observers to suppose that it +has ceased to flow. + + "Rusticus expectat dum defluit amnis, at ille + Volvitur et volvetur, in omne volubilis vium." + +I sometimes read attacks on special sayings of the record, which +argue, to the critic's mind, that Jesus was in error here, or mistaken +there. But I would recommend to such writers to ponder the suggestive +rule of Coleridge: "Until I can understand the ignorance of Plato, I +shall consider myself ignorant of his understanding;" or the remark of +Emerson to the youth who brought him a paper in which he thought he +had refuted Plato: "If you attack the king, be sure that you kill him." + +When the Christian world really takes Jesus _himself_ as its leader, +instead of building its faith on opinions _about_ him, we may +anticipate the arrival of that union which he foresaw and foretold--"As +thou, father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one +in us, that the world may believe that thou hast sent me." Then +Christians, ceasing from party strife and sectarian dissension, +will unite in one mighty effort to cure the evils of humanity and +redress its wrongs. Before a united Christendom, what miseries could +remain unrelieved? War, that criminal absurdity, that monstrous +anachronism, must at last be abolished. Pauperism, vice, and crime, +though continuing in sporadic forms, would cease to exist as a part of +the permanent institutions of civilization. A truly Catholic Church, +united under the Master, would lead all humanity up to a higher plane. +The immense forces developed by modern science, and the magnificent +discoveries in the realm of nature, helpless now to cure the wrongs +of suffering man, would become instruments of potent use under the +guidance of moral forces. + +According to the law of evolution, this is what we have a right to +expect. If we follow the lines of historic development, not being led +into extreme individualism; if we maintain the continuity of human +progress, this vast result must finally arrive. For such reasons I +prefer to remain in the communion of the Christian body, doing what I +may to assist its upward movement. For such reasons I am not a Free +Religionist. + + + + +HAVE ANIMALS SOULS[18] + + +To answer this question, we must first inquire what we mean by a soul. +If we mean a human soul, it is certain that animals do not possess +it,--at least not in a fully developed condition. If we mean, "Do they +possess an immortal soul?" that is, perhaps, a question difficult to +answer either in the affirmative or the negative. But if we mean by +the soul an immaterial principle of life, which cordinates the bodily +organization to a unity; which is the ground of growth, activity, +perception, volition; which is intelligent, affectionate, and to a +certain extent free; then we must admit that animals have souls. + +The same arguments which induce us to believe that there is a soul in +man apply to animals. The world has generally believed that in man, +beside the body, there is also soul. Why have people believed it? The +reason probably is, that, beside all that can be accounted for as the +result of the juxtaposition of material particles, there remains a very +important element unaccounted for. Mechanical and physical agency may +explain much, but the most essential characteristic of vital phenomena +they do not explain. They do not account for the unity in variety, +permanence in change, growth from within by continuous processes, +coming from the vital functions in an organized body. Every such +body has a unity peculiar to itself, which cannot be considered the +result of the collocation of material molecules. It is a unity which +controls these molecules, arranges and rearranges them, maintains a +steady activity, carries the body through the phenomena of growth, and +causes the various organs to coperate for the purposes of the whole. +The vital power is not merely the result of material phenomena, but +it reacts on these as a cause. Add to this that strange phenomenon of +human consciousness, the sense of personality,--which is the clear +perception of selfhood as a distinct unchanging unit, residing in +a body all of whose parts are in perpetual flux,--and we see why +the opinion of a soul has arisen. It has been assumed by the common +sense of mankind that in every living body the cause of the mode of +existence of each part is contained in the whole. As soon as death +intervenes each part is left free to pass through changes peculiar +to itself alone. Life is a power which acts from the whole upon the +parts, causing them to resist chemical laws, which begin to act as soon +as life departs. The unity of a living body does not result from an +ingenious juxtaposition of parts, like that of a watch, for example. +For the unity of a living body implies that which is called "the vital +vortex," or perpetual exchange of particles. + +A watch or clock is the nearest approach which has been made by man +to the creation of a living being. A watch, for instance, contains +the principle of its action in itself, and is not moved from without; +in that it resembles a living creature. We can easily conceive of a +watch which might be made to go seventy years, without being wound +up. It might need to be oiled occasionally, but not as often as an +animal needs to be fed. A watch is also like a living creature in +having a unity as a whole not belonging to the separate parts, and to +which all parts conspire,--namely, that of marking the progress of +time. Why, then, say that a man has a soul, and that a watch has not? +The difference is this. The higher principle of unity in the watch, +that is, its power of marking time, is wholly an effect, and never a +cause. It is purely and only the result of the arrangement of wheels +and springs; in other words, of material conditions. But in man, the +principle of unity is also a cause. Life reacts upon body. The laws of +matter are modified by the power of life, chemical action is suspended, +living muscles are able to endure without laceration the application of +forces which would destroy the dead fibre. So the thought, the love, +the will of a living creature react on the physical frame. A sight, a +sound, a few spoken words, a message seen in a letter, cause an immense +revulsion in the physical condition. Something is suddenly told us, +and we faint away, or even die, from the effect of the message. Here +mind acts upon matter, showing that in man mind is not merely a result, +but also a cause. Hence men have generally believed in the existence +of a soul in man. They have not been taught it by metaphysicians, it +is one of the spontaneous inductions of common sense from universal +experience. + +But this argument applies equally to prove a soul in animals. The same +reaction of soul on body is constantly apparent. Every time that you +whistle to your dog, and he comes bounding toward you, his mind has +acted on his body. His will has obeyed his thought, his muscles have +obeyed his will. The cause of his motion was mental, not physical. +This is too evident to require any further illustration. Therefore, +regarding the soul as a principle of life, connected with the body +but not its result, or, in other words, as an immaterial principle of +activity, there is the same reason for believing in the soul of animals +that there is for believing in the soul of man. + +But when we ask as to the nature of the animal soul, and how far it is +analogous to that of man, we meet with certain difficulties. Let us +see then how many of the human qualities of the soul are to be found +in animals, and so discover if there is any remainder not possessed by +them, peculiar to ourselves. + +That the vital soul, or principle of life, belongs equally to plants, +animals, and men, is evident. This is so apparent as to be granted +even by Descartes, who regards animals as mere machines, or automata, +destitute of a thinking soul, but not of life or feeling. They are +automata, but living and feeling automata. Descartes denies them a +soul, because he defines the soul as the thinking and knowing power. +But Locke (with whom Leibnitz fully agreed on this point) ascribes to +animals thought as well as feeling, and makes their difference from man +to consist in their not possessing abstract ideas. We shall presently +see the truth of this most sagacious remark. + +Plants, animals, and men are alike in possessing the vital principle, +which produces growth, which causes them to pass through regular +phases of development, which enables them to digest and assimilate +food taken from without, and which carries on a steady circulation +within. To this are added, in the animal, the function of voluntary +locomotion, perception through the senses of an outward world, the +power of feeling pleasure and pain, some wonderful instincts, and some +degree of reflective thought. Animals also possess memory, imagination, +playfulness, industry, the sense of shame, and many other very human +qualities. + +Take, for example, Buffon's fine description of the dog ("Histoire du +Chien"):-- + +"By nature fiery, irritable, ferocious, and sanguinary, the dog in +his savage state is a terror to other animals. But domesticated he +becomes gentle, attached, and desirous to please. He hastens to lay +at the feet of his master his courage, his strength, and all his +abilities. He listens for his master's orders, inquires his will, +consults his opinion, begs his permission, understands the indications +of his wishes. Without possessing the power of human thought, he has +all the warmth of human sentiment. He has more than human fidelity, +he is constant in his attachments. He is made up of zeal, ardor, and +obedience. He remembers kindness longer than wrong. He endures bad +treatment and forgets it--disarming it by patience and submission." + +No one who has ever had a dog for a friend will think this description +exaggerated. If any should so consider it, we will cite for their +benefit what Mr. Jesse, one of the latest students of the canine +race, asserts concerning it, in his "Researches into the History of +the British Dog" (London, 1866). He says that remarkable instances +of the following virtues, feelings, and powers of mind are well +authenticated:-- + +"The dog risks his life to give help; goes for assistance; saves +life from drowning, fire, other animals, and men; assists distress; +guards property; knows boundaries; resents injuries; repays benefits; +communicates ideas; combines with other dogs for several purposes; +understands language; knows when he is about to die; knows death in +a human being; devotes his whole life to the object of his love; dies +of grief and of joy; dies in his master's defense; commits suicide; +remains by the dead; solicits, and gives alarm; knows the characters +of men; recognizes a portrait, and men after long absence; is fond of +praise and sensible to ridicule; feels shame, and is sensible of a +fault; is playful; is incorruptible; finds his way back from distant +countries; is magnanimous to smaller animals; is jealous; has dreams; +and takes a last farewell when dying." + +Much of this, it may be said, is instinctive. We must therefore +distinguish between Instinct and Intelligence; or, rather, between +instinctive intelligence and reflective intelligence. Many writers on +the subject of animals have not carefully distinguished these very +different activities of the soul. Even M. Leroy, one of the first in +modern times who brought careful observation to the study of the nature +of animals, has not always kept in view this distinction---as has been +noticed by a subsequent French writer of very considerable ability, +M. Flourens.[19] The following marks, according to M. Flourens, +distinguish instinct from intelligence:-- + + INSTINCT INTELLIGENCE + + Is spontaneous, Is deliberate, + " necessary, " conditional, + " invariable, " modifiable, + " innate, comes from observation and experience, + " fatal, is free, + " particular. " general. + +Thus the building faculty of the beaver is an instinct, for it acts +spontaneously, and always in the same way. It is not a general faculty +of building in all places and ways, but a special power of building +houses of sticks, mud, and other materials, with the entrance under +water and a dry place within. When beavers build on a running stream, +they begin by making a dam across it, which preserves them from losing +the water in a drought; but this also is a spontaneous and invariable +act. The old stories of their driving piles, using their tails for +trowels, and having well-planned houses with many chambers, have been +found to be fictitious. That the beaver builds by instinct, though +intelligence comes in to modify the instinct, appears from his wishing +to build his house or his dam when it is not needed. Mr. Broderip, +the English naturalist, had a pet beaver that manifested his building +instinct by dragging together warming-pans, sweeping-brushes, boots, +and sticks, which he would lay crosswise. He then would fill in his +wall with clothes, bits of coal, turf, laying it very even. Finally, +he made a nest for himself behind his wall with clothes, hay, and +cotton. As this creature had been brought from America very young, all +this procedure must have been instinctive. But his intelligence showed +itself in his adapting his mode of building to his new circumstances. +His instinct led him to build his wall, and to lay his sticks +crosswise, and to fill in with what he could find, according to the +universal and spontaneous procedure of all beavers. But his making use +of a chest of drawers for one side of his wall, and taking brushes and +boots instead of cutting down trees, were no doubt acts of intelligence. + +A large part of the wonderful procedure of bees is purely instinctive. +Bees, from the beginning of the world, and in all countries of the +earth, have lived in similar communities; have had their queen, to +lay eggs for them: if their queen is lost, have developed a new one +in the same way, by altering the conditions of existence in one of +their larv; have constructed their hexagonal cells by the same +mathematical law, so as to secure the most strength with the least +outlay of material. All this is instinct--for it is spontaneous and not +deliberate; it is universal and constant. But when the bee deflects his +comb in order to avoid a stick thrust across the inside of the hive, +and begins the variation before he reaches the stick, this can only be +regarded as an act of intelligence. + +Animals, then, have both instincts and intelligence; and so has man. A +large part of human life proceeds from tendencies as purely, if not as +vigorously, instinctive as those of animals. Man has social instincts, +which create human society. Children play from an instinct. The +maternal instinct in a human mother is, till modified by reflection, as +spontaneous, universal, and necessary as the same instinct in animals. +But in man the instincts are reduced to a minimum, and are soon +modified by observation, experience, and reflection. In animals they +are at their maximum, and are modified in a much less degree. + +It is sometimes said that animals do not reason, but man does. But +animals are quite capable of at least two modes of reasoning, that of +comparison and that of inference. They compare two modes of action, or +two substances, and judge the one to be preferable to the other, and +accordingly select it. Sir Emerson Tennent tells us that elephants, +employed to build stone walls in Ceylon, will lay each stone in its +place, then stand off and look to see if it is plumb, and, if not, will +move it with their trunk, till it lies perfectly straight. This is a +pure act of reflective judgment. He narrates an adventure which befell +himself in Ceylon while riding on a narrow road through the forest. He +heard a rumbling sound approaching, and directly there came to meet him +an elephant, bearing on his tusks a large log of wood, which he had +been directed to carry to the place where it was needed. Sir Emerson +Tennent's horse, unused to these monsters, was alarmed, and refused to +go forward. The sagacious elephant, perceiving this, evidently decided +that he must himself go out of the way. But to do this, he was obliged +first to take the log from his tusks with his trunk, and lay it on the +ground, which he did, and then backed out of the road between the trees +till only his head was visible. But the horse was still too timid to go +by, whereupon the judicious pachyderm pushed himself farther back, till +all of his body, except the end of his trunk, had disappeared. Then Sir +Emerson succeeded in getting his horse by, but stopped to witness the +result. The elephant came out, took the log up again, laid it across +his tusks, and went on his way. This story, told by an unimpeachable +witness, shows several successive acts of reasoning. The log-bearer +inferred from the horse's terror that it would not pass; he again +inferred that in that case he must himself get out of the way; that, to +do this, he must lay down his log; that he must go farther back; and +accompanying this was his sense of duty, making him faithful to his +task; and, most of all, his consideration of what was due to this human +traveler, which kept him from driving the horse and man before him as +he went on. + +There is another well-authenticated anecdote of an elephant; he was +following an ammunition wagon, and saw the man who was seated on it +fall off just before the wheel. The man would have been crushed had +not the animal instantly run forward, and, without an order, lifted +the wheel with his trunk, and held it suspended in the air, till the +wagon had passed over the man without hurting him. Here were combined +presence of mind, good will, knowledge of the danger to the man, and a +rapid calculation of how he could be saved. + +Perhaps I may properly introduce here an account of the manifestations +of mind in the animals I have had the most opportunity of observing. +I have a horse, who was named Rubezahl, after the mountain spirit of +the Harz made famous in the stories of Musaeus. We have contracted his +name to Ruby for convenience. Now I have reason to believe that Ruby +can distinguish Sunday from other days. On Sunday I have been in the +habit of driving to Boston to church; but on other days, I drive to the +neighboring village, where are the post-office, shops of mechanics, and +other stores. To go to Boston, I usually turn to the right when I leave +my driveway; to go to the village, I turn to the left. Now, on Sunday, +if I leave the reins loose, so that the horse may do as he pleases, he +invariably turns to the right, and goes to Boston. On other days, he +as invariably turns to the left, and goes to the village. He does this +so constantly and regularly, that none of the family have any doubt +of the fact that he knows that it is Sunday; _how_ he knows it we are +unable to discover. I have left my house at the same hour on Sunday +and on Monday, in the same carriage, with the same number of persons +in it; and yet on Sunday he always turns to the right, and on Monday +to the left. He is fed at the same time on Sunday as on other days, +but the man comes back to harness him a little later on Sunday than at +other times, and that is possibly his method of knowing that it is the +day for going to Boston. But see how much of observation, memory, and +thought is implied in all this. + +Again, Ruby has shown a very distinct feeling of the supernatural. +Driving one day up a hill near my house, we met a horse-car coming down +toward us, running without horses, simply by the force of gravity. My +horse became so frightened that he ran into the gutter, and nearly +overturned me; and I got him past with the greatest difficulty. Now +he had met the cars coming down that hill, drawn by horses, a hundred +times, and had never been alarmed. Moreover, only a day or two after, +in going up the same hill, we saw a car moving uphill, before us, where +the horses were entirely invisible, being concealed by the car itself, +which was between us and the horses. But this did not frighten Ruby +at all. He evidently said to himself, "The horses are there, though I +do not see them." But in the other case it seemed to him an effect +without a cause--something plainly supernatural. There was nothing +in the aspect of the car itself to alarm him; he had seen that often +enough. He was simply terrified by seeing it move without any adequate +cause--just as we should be, if we saw our chairs begin to walk about +the room. + +Our Newfoundland dog's name is Donatello; which, again, is shortened +to Don in common parlance. He has all the affectionate and excellent +qualities of his race. He is the most good-natured creature I ever saw. +Nothing provokes him. Little dogs may yelp at him, the cat or kittens +may snarl and spit at him: he pays no attention to them. A little +dog climbs on his back, and lies down there; one of the cats will +lie between his legs. But at night, when he is on guard, no one can +approach the house unchallenged. + +But his affection for the family is very great. To be allowed to come +into the house and lie down near us is his chief happiness. He was very +fond of my son E----, who played with him a good deal, and when the +young man went away, during the war, with a three months' regiment, +Don was much depressed by his absence. He walked down regularly to the +station, and stood there till a train of cars came in; and when his +friend did not arrive in it, he went back, with a melancholy air, to +the house. But at last the young man returned. It was in the evening, +and Don was lying on the piazza. As soon as he saw his friend, his +exultation knew no bounds. He leaped upon him, and ran round him, +barking and showing the wildest signs of delight. All at once he turned +and ran up into the garden, and came back bringing an apple, which he +laid down at the feet of his young master. It was the only thing he +could think of to do for him--and this sign of his affection was quite +pathetic. + +The reason why Don thought of the apple was probably this: we had +taught him to go and get an apple for the horse, when so directed. We +would say, "Go, Don, get an apple for poor Ruby;" then he would run up +into the garden, and bring an apple, and hold it up to the horse; and +perhaps when the horse tried to take it he would pull it away. After +doing this a few times, he would finally lie down on his back under the +horse's nose, and allow the latter to take the apple from his mouth. +He would also kiss the horse, on being told to do so. When we said, +"Don, kiss poor Ruby," he leaped up and kissed the horse's nose. But he +afterwards hit upon a more convenient method of doing it. He got his +paw over the rein and pulled down the horse's head, so that he could +continue the osculatory process more at his ease, sitting comfortably +on the ground. + +Animals know when they have done wrong; so far, at least, as that means +disobeying our will or command. The only great fault which Don ever +committed was stealing a piece of meat from our neighbor's kitchen. I +do not think he was punished or even scolded for it; for we did not +find it out till later, when it would have done no good to punish him. +But a week or two after that, the gentleman whose kitchen had been +robbed was standing on my lawn, talking with me, and he referred, +laughingly, to what Don had done. He did not even look at the dog, much +less change his tones to those of rebuke. But the moment Don heard his +name mentioned, he turned and walked away, and hid himself under the +low branches of a Norway spruce near by. He was evidently profoundly +ashamed of himself. Was this the result of conscience, or of the love +of approbation? In either case, it was very human. + +That the love of approbation is common to many animals we all know. +Dogs and horses certainly can be influenced by praise and blame, as +easily as men. Many years ago we had occasion to draw a load of gravel, +and we put Ruby into a tip-cart to do the work. He was profoundly +depressed, and evidently felt it as a degradation. He hung his head, +and showed such marks of humiliation that we have never done it since. +But on the other hand, when he goes out, under the saddle, by the side +of a young horse, this veteran animal tries as hard to appear young +as any old bachelor of sixty years who is still ambitious of social +triumphs. He dances along, and goes sideways, and has all the airs and +graces of a young colt. All this, too, is very human. + +At one time my dog was fond of going to the railway station to see +the people, and I always ordered him to go home, fearing he should +be hurt by the cars. He easily understood that if he went there, it +was contrary to my wishes. Nevertheless, he often went; and I do not +know but this fondness for forbidden fruit was rather human, too. So, +whenever he was near the station, if he saw me coming, he would look +the other way, and pretend not to know me. If he met me anywhere else, +he always bounded to meet me with great delight. But at the station +it was quite different. He would pay no attention to my whistle or my +call. He even pretended to be another dog, and would look me right in +the face without apparently recognizing me. He gave me the cut direct, +in the most impertinent manner; the reason evidently being that he knew +he was doing what was wrong, and did not like to be found out. Possibly +he may have relied a little on my near-sightedness, in this manoeuvre. + +That animals have acute observation, memory, imagination, the sense of +approbation, strong affections, and the power of reasoning is therefore +very evident. Lord Bacon also speaks of a dog's reverence for his +master as partaking of a religious element. "Mark," says he, "what +a generosity and courage a dog will put on, when he finds himself +maintained by a man, who to him is instead of a God--which courage +he could not attain, without that confidence in a better nature than +his own." Who that has seen the mute admiration and trust in a dog's +eye, as he looks up at his master, but can see in it something of a +religious reverence, the germ and first principle of religion? + +What, then, is the difference between the human soul and that of the +animal in its highest development? + +That there is a very marked difference between man and the highest +animal is evident. The human being, weaker in proportion than all other +animals, has subjected them all to himself. He has subdued the earth by +his inventions. Physically too feeble to dig a hole in the ground like +a rabbit, or to fell a tree like a beaver; unable to live in the water +like a fish, or to move through the air like a bird; he yet, by his +inventive power and his machinery, can compel the forces of nature to +work for him. They are the true genii, slaves of his lamp. Air, fire, +water, electricity, and magnetism build his cities and his stately +ships, run his errands, carry him from land to land, and accept him as +their master. + +Whence does man obtain this power? Some say it is _the human hand_ +which has made man supreme. It is, no doubt, a wonderful machine; a +box of tools in itself. The size and strength of the thumb, and the +power of opposing it to the extremities of the fingers, distinguishes, +according to most anatomists, the human hand from that of the +quadrumanous animals. In those monkeys which are nearest to man, the +thumb is so short and weak, and the fingers so long and slender, +that their tips can scarcely be brought in opposition. Excellent for +climbing, they are not good for taking up small objects or supporting +large ones. But the hand of man could accomplish little without the +mind behind it. It was therefore a good remark of Galen, that "man is +not the wisest of animals because he has a hand; but God has given him +a hand because he is the wisest of animals." + +The size of the human brain, relatively greater than that of almost any +other animal; man's structure, adapting him to stand erect; his ability +to exist in all climates; his power of subsisting on varied food: all +these facts of his physical nature are associated with his superior +mental power, but do not produce it. The question recurs, What enables +him to stand at the head of the animal creation? + +Perhaps the chief apparent distinctions between man and other animals +are these:-- + +1. The lowest races of men use tools; other animals do not. + +2. The lowest human beings possess a verbal language; other animals +have none. + +3. Man has the capacity of self-culture, as an individual; other +animals have not. + +4. Human beings, associated in society, are capable of progress in +civilization, by means of science, art, literature, and religion; other +animals are not. + +5. Men have a capacity for religion; no animal, except man, has this. + +The lowest races of men use tools, but no other animal does this. This +is so universally admitted by science that the presence of the rudest +tools of stone is considered a sufficient trace of the presence of man. +If stone hatchets or hammers or arrowheads are found in any stratum, +though no human bones are detected, anthropologists regard this as +a sufficient proof of the existence of human beings in the period +indicated by such a geologic formation. The only tools used by animals +in procuring food, in war, or in building their homes, are their +natural organs: their beaks, teeth, claws, etc. It may be added that +man alone wears clothes; other animals being sufficiently clothed by +nature. No animals make a fire, though they often suffer from cold; but +there is no race of men unacquainted with the use of fire.[20] + +No animals possess a verbal language. Animals can remember some of the +words used by men, and associate with them their meaning. But this is +not the use of language. It is merely the memory of two associated +facts,--as when the animal recollects where he found food, and goes to +the same place to look for it again. Animals have different cries, +indicating different wants. They use one cry to call their mate, +another to terrify their prey. But this is not the use of verbal +language. Human language implies not merely an acquaintance with the +meaning of particular words, but the power of putting them together in +a sentence. Animals have no such language as this; for, if they had, +it would have been learned by men. Man has the power of learning any +verbal language. Adelung and Vater reckon over three thousand languages +spoken by men, and any man can learn any of them. The negroes speak +their own languages in their own countries; they speak Arabic in North +Africa; they learn to speak English, French, and Spanish in America, +and Oriental languages when they go to the East. If any animals had a +verbal language, with its vocabulary and grammar, men would long ago +have learned it, and would have been able to converse with them. + +Again, no animal except man is capable of self-culture, as an +individual. Animals are trained by external influences; they do not +teach themselves. An old wolf is much more cunning than a young one, +but he has been made so by the force of circumstances. You can teach +your dog tricks, but no dog has ever taught himself any. Yet the lowest +savages teach themselves to make tools, to ornament their paddles +and clubs, and acquire certain arts by diligent effort. Birds will +sometimes practice the tunes which they hear played, till they have +learned them. They will also sometimes imitate each other's songs. +That is, they possess the power of vocal imitation. But to imitate +the sounds we hear is not self-culture. It is not developing a new +power, but it is exercising in a new way a natural gift. Yet we must +admit that in this habit of birds there is the rudiment, at least, of +self-education. + +All races of men are capable of progress in civilization. Many, +indeed, remain in a savage state for thousands of years, and we cannot +positively prove that any particular race which has always been +uncivilized is capable of civilization. But we are led to believe +it from having known of so many tribes of men who have emerged from +apathy, ignorance, and barbarism into the light of science and art. +So it was with all the Teutonic races,--the Goths, Germans, Kelts, +Lombards, Scandinavians. So it was with the Arabs, who roamed for +thousands of years over the deserts, a race of ignorant robbers, and +then, filled with the great inspiration of Islam, flamed up into a +brilliant coruscation of science, literature, art, military success, +and profound learning. What great civilizations have grown up in +China, India, Persia, Assyria, Babylon, Phoenicia, Egypt, Greece, +Rome, Carthage, Etruria! But no such progress has ever appeared among +the animals. As their parents were, five thousand years ago, so, +essentially, are they now. + +Nor are animals religious, in the sense of worshiping unseen powers +higher than themselves. My horse showed a sense of the supernatural, +but this is not worship. + +These are some of the most marked points of difference between man and +all other animals. Now these can all be accounted for by the hypothesis +in which Locke and Leibnitz both agreed; namely, that while animals are +capable of reasoning about facts, they are incapable of abstract ideas. +Or, we may say with Coleridge, that while animals, in common with man, +possess the faculty of understanding, they do not possess that of +reason. Coleridge seems to have intended by this exactly what Locke +and Leibnitz meant by their statement. When my dog Don heard the word +"apple," he thought of the particular concrete apple under the tree; +and not of apples in general, and their relation to pears, peaches, +etc. Don understood me when I told him to go and get an apple, and +obeyed; but he would not have understood me if I had remarked to him +that apples were better than pears, more wholesome than peaches, not so +handsome as grapes. I should then have gone into the region of abstract +and general ideas. + +Now it is precisely the possession of this power of abstract thought +which will explain the superiority of man to all other animals. It +explains the use of tools; for a tool is an instrument prepared, not +for one special purpose, but to be used generally, in certain ways. +A baboon, like a man, might pick up a particular stone with which to +crack a particular nut; but the ape does not make and keep a stone +hammer, to be used on many similar occasions. A box of tools contains a +collection of saws, planes, draw-knives, etc., not made to use on one +occasion merely, but made for sawing, cutting, and planing purposes +generally. + +Still more evident is it that the power of abstraction is necessary +for verbal language. We do not here use the common term "articulate +speech," for we can conceive of animals articulating their vocal +sounds. But "a word" is an abstraction. The notion is lifted out of the +concrete particular fact, and deposited in the abstract general term. +All words, except proper names, are abstract; and to possess and use a +verbal language is impossible, without the possession of this mental +faculty. + +In regard to self-culture, it is clear that for any steady progress +one must keep before his mind an abstract idea of what he wishes to +do. This enables him to rise above impulse, passion, instinct, habit, +circumstance. By the steady contemplation of the proposed aim, one can +arrange circumstances, restrain impulse, direct one's activity, and +become really free. + +In like manner, races become developed in civilization by the impact +of abstract ideas. Sometimes it is by coming in contact with other +civilized nations, which gives them an ideal superior to anything +before known. Sometimes the motive power of their progress is the +reception of truths of science, art, literature, or religion. + +It is not necessary to show that without abstract, universal, and +necessary ideas no religion is possible; for religion, being the +worship of unseen powers, conceived as existing, as active, as +spiritual, necessarily implies these ideas in the mind of the worshiper. + +We find, then, in the soul of animals all active, affectionate, +and intelligent capacities, as in that of man. The only difference +is that man is capable of abstract ideas, which give him a larger +liberty of action, which enable him to adopt an aim and pursue it, +and which change his affections from an instinctive attachment into a +principle of generous love. Add, then, to the animal soul the capacity +for abstract ideas, and it would rise at once to the level of man. +Meantime, in a large part of their nature, they have the same faculties +with ourselves. They share our emotions, and we theirs. They are made +"a little lower" than man, and if we are souls, so surely are they. + +Are they immortal? To discuss this question would require more space +than we can here give to it. For my own part, I fully believe in the +continued existence of all souls, at the same time assuming their +continued advance. The law of life is progress; and one of the best +features in the somewhat unspiritual theory of Darwin is its profound +faith in perpetual improvement. This theory is the most startling +optimism that has ever been taught, for it makes perpetual progress to +be the law of the whole universe. + +Many of the arguments for the immortality of man cannot indeed be +used for our dumb relations, the animals. We cannot argue from their +universal faith in a future life; nor contend that they need an +immortality on moral grounds, to recompense their good conduct and +punish their wickedness. We might indeed adduce a reason implied in +our Saviour's parable, and believe that the poor creatures who have +received their evil things in this life will be comforted in another. +Moreover, we might find in many animals qualities fitting them for a +higher state. There are animals, as we have seen, who show a fidelity, +courage, generosity, often superior to what we see in man. The dogs +who have loved their master more than food, and starved to death on +his grave, are surely well fitted for a higher existence. Jesse tells +a story of a cat which was being stoned by cruel boys. Men went by, +and did not interfere; but a dog, that saw it, did. He drove away the +boys, and then took the cat to his kennel, licked her all over with his +tongue, and his conduct interested people, who brought her milk. The +canine nurse took care of her till she was well, and the cat and dog +remained fast friends ever after. Such an action in a man would have +been called heroic; and we think such a dog would not be out of place +in heaven. + +Yet it is not so much on particular cases of animal superiority that +we rely, but on the difficulty of conceiving, in any sense, of the +destruction of life. The principle of life, whether we call it soul +or body, matter or spirit, escapes all observation of the senses. All +that we know of it by observation is that, beside the particles of +matter which compose an organized body, there is something else, not +cognizable by the senses, which attracts and dismisses them, modifies +and cordinates them. The unity of the body is not to be found in +its sensible phenomena, but in something which escapes the senses. +Into the vortex of that life material molecules are being continually +absorbed, and from it they are perpetually discharged. If death means +the dissolution of the body, we die many times in the course of our +earthly career, for every body is said by human anatomists to be +changed in all its particles once in seven years. What then remains, +if all the particles go? The principle of organization remains, and +this invisible, persistent principle constitutes the identity of every +organized body. If I say that I have the _same_ body when I am fifty +which I had at twenty, it is because I mean by "body" that which +continues unaltered amid the fast-flying particles of matter. This life +principle makes and remakes the material frame; that body does not +make it. When what we call death intervenes, all that we can assert +is that the life principle has done wholly and at once what it has +always been doing gradually and in part. What happens to the material +particles, we see: they become detached from the organizing principle, +and relapse into simply mechanical and chemical conditions. What has +happened to that organizing principle we neither see nor know; and we +have absolutely no reason at all for saying that it has ceased to exist. + +This is as true of plants and of animals as of men; and there is no +reason for supposing that when these die their principle of life +is ended. It probably has reached a crisis, which consists in the +putting on of new forms and ascending into a higher order of organized +existence. + + + + +APROPOS OF TYNDALL[21] + + +We have all read in our "Vicar of Wakefield" the famous speech made +by the venerable and learned Ephraim Jenkinson to good Dr. Primrose: +"The cosmogony, or creation of the world, has puzzled philosophers in +all ages. Sanchoniathon, Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus have +all attempted it in vain," etc. But we hardly expected to have this +question of cosmogony reopened by an eminent scientist in an address +to the British Association. What "Sanchoniathon, Manetho, Berosus, and +Ocellus Lucanus have all attempted in vain" Professor Tyndall has not +only discussed before a body of men learned in the physical sciences, +but has done it in such a manner as to rouse two continents to a new +interest in the question. One party has immediately accused him of +irreligion and infidelity, while another has declared his statements +innocent if not virtuous. But the question which has been least debated +is, What has the professor really said? or, Has he said anything? + +The celebrated sentence which has occasioned this excitement is as +follows:-- + +"Abandoning all disguise, the confession that I feel bound to make +before you is, that I prolong the vision backward across the boundary +of the experimental evidence, and discern in that matter which we in +our ignorance, and notwithstanding our professed reverence for its +Creator, have hitherto covered with opprobrium, the promise and potency +of every form and quality of life." + +Does he, then, declare himself a materialist? A materialist is one +who asserts everything which exists to be matter, or an affection of +matter. What, then, is matter, and how is that to be defined? The +common definition of matter is, that which is perceived by the senses, +or the substance underlying sensible phenomena. By means of the senses +we perceive such qualities or phenomena as resistance, form, color, +perfume, sound. Whenever we observe these phenomena, whenever we see, +hear, taste, touch, or smell, we attribute the affections thus excited +to an external substance, which we call _matter_. But we are aware of +other phenomena which are _not_ perceived by the senses,--- such as +thought, love, and will. We are as certain of their existence as we +are of sensible phenomena. I am as sure of the reality of love as I am +of the whiteness of chalk. By a law of our mind, whenever we perceive +sensible phenomena, we necessarily attribute them to a substance +outside of ourselves, which we call matter. And by another law, or the +same law, whenever we perceive the phenomena of consciousness, we +necessarily attribute them to a substance which we call soul, mind, or +spirit. All that we know of matter, and all that we know of soul, is +their phenomena, and as these are entirely different, we are obliged +to assume that matter and mind are different. None of the qualities or +attributes of matter belong to mind, none of those of mind to matter. + +Does Tyndall deny this distinction? Apparently not. He not only makes +Bishop Butler declare, with unanswerable power, that materialism can +never show any connection between molecular processes and the phenomena +of consciousness, but he distinctly iterates this in his own person +at the end of the address; asserting that there is no fusion possible +between the two classes of facts, those of sensation and those of +consciousness. Professor Tyndall, then, in the famous sentence above +quoted, does not declare himself a materialist in the only sense +in which the term has hitherto been used. He does not pretend that +sensation, thought, emotion, and will are reducible, in the last +analysis, to solidity, extension, divisibility, etc.; he positively and +absolutely denies this. + +When Tyndall, therefore, asserts that he discerns in matter the +promise and potency of every form and quality of life, he uses the +word "matter" in a new sense. He does not mean by it the underlying +subject of sensible phenomena. It is not the matter which we see, +hear, touch, taste, and smell. What is it then? It is something beyond +the limits of observation and experiment; for he says that in order to +discover it we must "prolong the vision backward across the boundary +of the experimental evidence." In short, it is something which we know +nothing about. It is a conjecture, an opinion, a theoretical matter. In +another place he calls this imaginary substance "a cosmical life." This +something, which shall be the common basis of the phenomena of sense +and soul, not only is not known, but apparently is not knowable. For he +assures us that the very attempt to understand this cosmical life which +makes the connection between physical and mental phenomena, is "to soar +in a vacuum," or "to try to lift one's self by his own waistband." + +Of course, then, the contents of the famous sentence are not _science_. +It is not the great scientist, the profound observer of nature, the +distinguished experimentalist, who speaks to us in that sentence, but +one who is theorizing, as we all have a right to theorize. We also, +if we choose, may imagine some "cosmical life" behind both matter and +soul, as the common origin of both, and call this life _spirit_. We +shall then be thinking of exactly the same substance that Tyndall is +thinking of, only we give it another name. He has merely given another +name to the great Being behind all the phenomena of body and soul, out +of which or whom all proceed. But to give another name to a fact is +not to tell us anything more about it. All meaning having evaporated +from the word "matter," the sentence loses its whole significance, and +it appears that the alarming declaration asserts nothing at all! In +"abandoning all disguise" Tyndall has run little risk, for our analysis +shows that he has not asserted anything except, perhaps, this, that +there is, in his judgment, some unknown common basis in which matter +and mind both inhere. This assertion is not alarming nor dangerous, for +it is only what has always been believed. + +As there is no materialism, in any known sense of that term, in the +doctrine of this address, so likewise there is no atheism. In fact, in +this same sentence Tyndall speaks of the "creator" of what he likes +to call "matter" or "cosmical life." He objects strongly to a creator +who works mechanically, and he seems to reprove Darwin for admitting +an original or primordial form, created at first by the Deity. "The +anthropomorphism, which it seemed the object of Mr. Darwin to set +aside, is as firmly associated with the creation of a few forms as with +the creation of a multitude." In another passage he says: "Is there not +a temptation to close to some extent with Lucretius, when he affirms +that nature is seen to do all things spontaneously of herself without +the meddling of the gods?". But this last sentence shows a singular +vacillation in so clear a thinker as Tyndall. How can one close "to +some extent" with such a statement as that of Lucretius? Either the +gods meddle, or they do not meddle. They can hardly be considered as +meddling "to some extent." In still another passage he contrasts the +doctrine of evolution with the usual doctrine of creation, rejecting +the last in favor of the other, because creation makes of God "an +artificer, fashioned after the human model, and acting by broken +efforts, as man is seen to act." + +All these expressions are somewhat vague, implying, as it seems, a +certain obscurity in Tyndall's own thought. But it is not atheism. +His "cosmical life" probably is exactly what Cudworth means by +"plastic life." It is well known that Cudworth, whose great work +is a confutation of all atheism, himself admits what he calls "a +plastic nature" in the universe as a subordinate instrument of divine +Providence. Just as Tyndall objects to regarding the Deity as "an +artificer," Cudworth objects to the "mechanic theists," who make the +Deity act directly upon matter from without, by separate efforts, +instead of pouring a creative and arranging life into nature. We can +easily see that Cudworth, like Tyndall, would object to Darwin's one or +two "primordial germs." His "plastic nature" is working everywhere and +always, though under a divine guidance. It is "a life," and therefore +incorporeal. It is an unconscious life, which acts, not knowingly, +but fatally. Man, according to Cudworth, partakes of this life from +the life of the universe, just as he partakes of heat and cold from +the heat and cold of the universe. Thus Cudworth, believing in some +such "cosmical life" as Tyndall imagines, conceives it as being itself +the organ and instrument of the Deity. Tyndall, therefore, though +less clear in his statements than Cudworth, is not logically involved +in atheism by those statements, unless we implicate in the same +condemnation the writer whose vast work constitutes the fullest arsenal +of weapons against all the forms of atheism. + +Unfortunately, however, Tyndall does not come to any clearness on +this point, which in one possessing such a lucidity of intellect must +be occasioned by his leaving his own domain of science and venturing +into this metaphysical world, with which he is not so familiar. +His acquaintance with the history of these studies seems not to be +extensive. For example, he attributes to Herbert Spencer, as if he were +the discoverer, what both Hobbes and Descartes had already stated, +that there is no necessary resemblance between our sensations and the +external objects from which they are derived. In regard to a belief in +God, he tells us that in his weaker moments he loses it, or that it +becomes clouded and dim, but that when he is at his best he accepts it +most fully. This belief, therefore, is not with Tyndall a matter of +conviction, founded on reason, but a question of moods. No wonder, +then, that he relegates religion to the region of sentiment, and +declares that it has nothing to do with knowledge. It must not touch +any question of cosmogony, or, if it does, must "submit to the control +of science" in that field. But what has science to do with cosmogony? +Science rests on observation of facts; but our professor tells us +that he obtains his great cosmological idea of "a cosmical life" by +prolonging his vision backward "across the boundary of the experimental +evidence." Such science as this, which is based on no experience, and +is incapable of verification, has hardly the right to warn religious +belief away from any field. + +Tyndall seems a little astray in making creation and evolution +contradictory and incompatible. Evolution, he tells us, is the +manifestation of a power wholly inscrutable to the intellect of man. We +know that God is,--that is, we know it in our better moods,--but _what_ +God is, we cannot ever know. At all events we must not consider him as +a Creator. "Two courses," says Tyndall, "and only two, are possible. +Either let us open our doors freely to the conception of creative acts, +or, abandoning them, let us radically change our notions of matter." +His objections to the idea of a Creator appear to be (1) that it is +"derived, not from the study of Nature, but from the observation of +men;" and (2) that it represents the Deity "as an artificer, fashioned +after a human model, and acting by broken efforts as man is seen to +act." + +Are these objections sound? When we study man, are we not then also +studying Nature? Is not man himself the highest manifestation of +Nature? If so, and if we see the quality of any power best in its +highest and fullest operations, we can study the nature of God best +by looking into our own. We should, in fact, know very little of +Nature if we did not look within as well as without. Tyndall justly +demands unlimited freedom of investigation in the pursuit of science. +But whence came this very idea of freedom except from the human mind? +Nothing in the external world is free; all is fatal. Such ideas as +cause, force, substance, law, unity, ideality, are not observed in +the outward world--they are given by the activity of the mind itself. +Subtract these from our thought, and we should know very little of +Nature or its origin. + +No doubt the idea of a Creator, and of one perfect in wisdom, power, +and goodness, is derived by man from his own mind. But it is not +necessary that such a Creator should be an "artificer," or proceed by +"broken efforts." He may act by evolution, or processes of development. +He may create perpetually, by a life flowing from himself into all +things. He may create the universe anew at every moment--not as a +man lights a torch with a match and then goes away, but as the sun +creates his image in the water by a perpetual process. Thus God may be +regarded as _creating_ each animal and each plant, while he maintains +the mysterious force of development by which it grows from its egg or +its seed. The essential idea of creation is an infinite cause, acting +according to a perfect intelligence, for a perfect good. There is +nothing, necessarily, of an artificer or of broken efforts in this. It +is the very idea of divine creation given in the New Testament. "From +whom, and through whom, and to whom, are all things." "In him, we live, +and move, and have our being." The theist may well accept the view +given by Goethe, in his little poem, "Gott, Gemth, und Welt." + + "What kind of God would He be who only pushes the universe from + without? + Who lets the All of Things run round and round on his finger? + It becomes him far better to move the universe from within, + To take Nature up into Himself, to let Himself down into Nature, + So that whatever lives, and moves, and has its being in Him + Never loses His power, never misses His spirit." + +Such a conception of God, as a perpetual Creator, is essential to the +intellectual rest of the human mind, and it is painful to see the +irresolution of Professor Tyndall in regard to it. "Clear and confident +as Jove" in the domain which is his own, where his masterly powers of +observation, discrimination, and judgment leave him without a peer, he +seems shorn of his strength on entering this field of metaphysics. +He has warned theology not to trespass on the grounds of science; or, +if she enters them, to submit to science as her superior. Theology +has been in the habit of treating science in the same supercilious +way; telling her that she was an intruder if she ventured to discuss +questions of psychology or religion. This is equally unwise on either +part. Theologians should be glad when men of science become seriously +interested in these great questions of the Whence and the Whither. The +address of Professor Tyndall is excellent in its intention as well as +in its candid and manly treatment of the subject. Its indecision and +indistinctness are probably due to his having accepted too implicitly +the guidance of Spencer, thus assuming that religious truth is +unknowable, that creation is impossible, and that only phenomena can +become objects of knowledge. "Insoluble mystery" is therefore his final +answer to the questions he has himself raised. + +Goethe is wiser when he follows the Apostle Paul, and regards the +Deity as "the fullness which filleth all in all." There is no unity +to thought, and no hope for scientific progress, more than for moral +culture, unless we see intelligence at the centre, intelligence on the +circumference of being. To place an impenetrable darkness instead of +an unclouded light on the throne of the universe, is to throw a shadow +over the Creation. + +We say that there is no unity in thought without this conviction. The +only real unity we know in the world is our own. All we see around +us, including our own body, is divisible, subject to alteration and +change. Only the ego, or soul, is conscious of a perfect unity in a +perpetual identity. Unless we can attribute to the source of all being +a similar personal unity, there can be no coherence to science, but it +must forever remain fragmentary and divided. This is what we mean by +asserting the personality of Deity. This idea reaches what Lord Bacon +calls "the vertical point of natural philosophy" or "the summary law of +Nature," and constitutes, as he declares, "the union of all things in a +perpetual and uniform law." + +And unless we can recognize in the ultimate fountain of being an +intelligent purpose, the meaning of the universe departs. Without +intelligence in the cause there is none in the effect. Then the world +has no meaning, life no aim. The universe comes out of darkness, and is +plunging into darkness again. + +Take away from the domain of knowledge the idea of a creating and +presiding intelligence, and there remains no motive for science itself. +Professor Tyndall is sagacious enough to see and candid enough to admit +that "without moral force to whip it into action the achievements of +the intellect would be poor indeed," and that "science itself not +unfrequently derives motive power from ultra-scientific sources." Faith +in God, as an intelligent creator and ruler of the world, has awakened +enthusiasm for scientific investigation among both the Aryan and the +Semitic races. + +The purest and highest form of monotheism is that of Christianity; and +in Christendom has science made its largest progress. Not by martyrs +for science, but by martyrs for religion, has the human mind been +emancipated. Mr. Tyndall says of scientific freedom, "We fought and won +our battle even in the middle ages." But the heroes of intellectual +liberty have been the heroes of faith. Hundreds of thousands have died +for a religious creed; but how many have died for a scientific theory? +Luther went to Worms, and maintained his opinions there in defiance +of the anathemas of the church and the ban of the empire, but Galileo +denied his most cherished convictions on his knees. Galileo was as +noble a character as Luther; but science does not create the texture +of soul which makes so many martyrs in all the religious sects of +Christendom. Let the doctrine of cosmical force supplant our faith in +the Almighty, and in a few hundred years science would probably fade +out of the world from pure inanition. The world would probably not care +enough for _anything_ to care for science. The light of eternity must +fall on this our human and earthly life, to arouse the soul to a living +and permanent interest even in things seen and temporal. + +Professor Tyndall says: "Whether the views of Lucretius, Darwin, and +Spencer are right or wrong, we claim the freedom to discuss them. The +ground which they cover is scientific ground." + +It is not only a right, but a duty to examine these theories, since +they are held seriously and urged earnestly by able men. But we must +doubt whether they ought to claim the authority of science. They are +proposed by scientific men, and they refer to scientific subjects. But +these theories, in their present development, belong to metaphysics +rather than to science. Science consists, first, of observation of +facts; secondly, of laws inferred from those facts; and thirdly, of +a verification of those laws by new observation and experiment. That +which cannot be verified is no part of science; astronomy is a science, +since every eclipse and occultation verifies its laws; geology is a +science, since every new observation of the strata and their contents +accords with the established part of the system; chemistry is a +science for the same reason. But Darwin's theory of the transformation +of species by natural selection is as yet unverified. "There is no +evidence of a direct descent of earlier from later species in the +geological succession of animals." So says Agassiz, and on this point +his testimony can hardly be impeached. Professor W. Thompson, another +good geological authority, says: "In successive geological formations, +although new species are constantly appearing, and there is abundant +evidence of progressive change, no single case has yet been observed +of one species passing through a series of inappreciable modifications +into another." Neither has any such change taken place within historic +times, for the animals and plants found in the tombs of Egypt are +"identical, in all respects," says M. Quatrefages, "with those now +existing." He adds the opinion, after a very careful and candid +examination of the hypothesis of Darwin, that "the theory and the +facts do not agree." Not being verified, then, this theory is not yet +science, but an unverified mental hypothesis, that is, metaphysics. + +It is important that this should be distinctly said, for when men +eminent in science propound new theories, these theories themselves are +apt to be regarded as science, and those who oppose them are accused +of being opposed to science. This is the tendency which Professor +Tyndall has so justly described in this very address: "When the human +mind has achieved greatness and given evidence of power in any domain, +there is a tendency to credit it with similar power in any other +domain." Because Tyndall is great in experimental science, many are +apt to accept his cosmological conclusions. Because he is a great +observer in natural history, his metaphysical theories are supposed +to be supported by observation, and to rest on experience. Professor +Tyndall's own address terminates, not in science, but nescience. It +treats of a realm of atoms and molecules whose existence science has +never demonstrated, and attributes to them potencies which science has +never verified. It is a system, not made necessary by the stringent +constraint of facts, but avowedly constructed in order to avoid the +belief in an intelligent Creator, and a universe marked by the presence +of design. His theory, he admits, no less than that of Darwin, was not +constructed in the pure interests of truth for its own sake. There was +another purpose in both,--to get rid of a theology of final causes, of +a theology which conceives of God as a human artificer. He wished to +exclude religion from the field of cosmogony, and forbid it to intrude +on the region of knowledge. Theologians have often been reproached +for studying "with a purpose," but it seems that this is a frailty +belonging not to theologians only, but to all human beings who care a +good deal for what they believe. + +Professor Tyndall accepts religious faith as an important element of +human nature, but considers it as confined to the sentiments, and +as not based in knowledge. He doubtless comes to this conclusion +from following too implicitly the traditions of modern English +psychology. These assume that knowledge comes only from without, +through the senses, and never from within, through intuition. This +prepossession, singularly English and insular, is thus stated by John +Stuart Mill in his article on Coleridge. "Sensation, and the mind's +consciousness of its own acts, are not only the exclusive sources, +but the sole materials of our knowledge. There is no knowledge _a +priori_; no truths cognizable by the mind's inward light, and grounded +on intuitive evidence." These views have been developed in England by +the two Mills, Herbert Spencer, Bain, and others, who have made great +efforts to show how sensations may be transformed into thoughts; how +association of ideas may have developed instincts; how hereditary +impressions, repeated for a million years, may at last have taken on +the aspect of necessary truths. In short, they have laid out great +labor and ingenuity in proving that a sensation may, very gradually, be +transformed into a thought. + +But all this labor is probably a waste of time and of intellectual +power. The attempt at turning sensation into thought only results in +turning thought into sensation. It is an error that we only know what +we perceive through the senses, or transform by the action of the +mind. It is not true that we only know that of which we can form a +sensible image. We know the existence of the soul as certainly as that +of the body. We know the infinite and the eternal as well as we know +the finite and temporal. We know substance, cause, immortal beauty, +absolute truth, as surely as the flitting phenomena which pass within +the sphere of sensational experience. These convictions belong, not to +the sphere of sentiment and emotion, but to that of knowledge. It is +because they show us realities and not imaginations, that they nerve +the soul to such vast efforts in the sphere of morals, literature, and +religion. + +The arguments against the independent existence of the soul which +Tyndall puts into the mouth of his Lucretian disciple are not difficult +to answer. "You can form no picture of the soul," he says. No; and +neither can we form a mental picture of love or hate, of right and +wrong, or even of bodily pain and pleasure. "If localized in the body, +the soul must have form." Must a pain, localized in the finger, have +form? "When a leg is amputated, in which part does the soul reside?" +We answer, that the soul resides in the body, with reduced power. Its +instrument is less perfect than before--like a telescope which has +lost a lens. "If consciousness is an essential attribute of the soul, +where is the soul when consciousness ceases by the depression of the +brain?" Is there any difficulty, we reply, in supposing that the soul +may pass sometimes into a state of torpor, when its instrument is +injured? A soul may sleep, and so be unconscious, without being dead. +"The diseased brain may produce immorality: can the reason control it? +If not, what is the use of the reason?" To this we answer that the +soul may lose its power with a diseased body; but when furnished with +another and better body, it will regain it. "If you regard the body +only as an instrument, you will neglect to take care of it." Does the +astronomer neglect to take care of his telescope? + +These answers to the Lucretian may be far from complete; but they are +at least as good as the objections. The soul, no doubt, depends on the +body, and cannot do its work well when the body is out of order; but +does that prove it to be the _result_ of the body? If so, the same +argument would prove the carpenter to be the result of his box of +tools, and the organist to be the result of his organ. The organist +draws sweet music from his instrument. But as his organ grows old, +or is injured by the weather, or the pipes crack, and the pedals get +out of order, the music becomes more and more imperfect. At last the +instrument is wholly ruined, and the music wholly ceases. Is, then, +the organist dead, or was he only the result of the organ? "Without +phosphorus, no thought," say the materialists. True. So, "without the +organ, no music." Just as in addition to the musical instrument we need +a performer, so in addition to the brain we need a soul. + +There are two worlds of knowledge,--the outward world, which is +perceived through the senses, and which belongs to physical science, +and the inward world, perceived by the nobler reason, and from which +a celestial light streams in, irradiating the mind through all its +powers. Religion and science are not opposed, though different; their +spheres are different, though not to be divided. Each is supreme in +its own region, but each needs the help of the other in order to do +its own work well. Professor Tyndall claims freedom of discussion and +inquiry for himself and his scientific brethren, and says he will +oppose to the death any limitation of this liberty. He need not be +anxious on this point. Religious faith has already fought this battle, +and won for science as well as for itself perfect liberty of thought. +The Protestant churches may say, "With a great sum obtained we this +freedom." By the lives of its confessors and the blood of its martyrs +has it secured for all men to-day equal rights of thought and speech. +What neither Copernicus, Kepler, nor Galileo could do was accomplished +by the courage of Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox, and Oliver +Cromwell. + +And now the freedom they obtained by such sacrifices we inherit and +enjoy: "We are free-born." We may be thankful that in most countries +to-day no repression nor dictation prevents any man from expressing +his inmost thought. We are glad that the most rabid unbelief and +extreme denial can be spoken calmly in the open day. This is one great +discovery of modern times, that errors lose half their influence when +openly uttered. We owe this discovery to the Reformation. The reformers +made possible a toleration much larger than their own; unwittingly, +while seeking freedom for their own thoughts, they won the same +freedom for others, who went farther than they. They builded better +than they knew. + + * * * * * + +Professor Tyndall's address is tranquil yet earnest, modest, and manly. +But its best result is, that it shows us the impotence of the method +of sensation to explain the mystery of the universe. It has shown us +clearly the limitations of "the understanding judging by sense"--shown +that it sees our world clearly, but is blind to the other. It can tell +every blade of grass, and name every mineral; but it stands helpless +and hopeless before the problem of being. Science and religion may each +say with the apostle, "We know in part and prophesy in part." Together +and united, they may one day see and know the whole. + + + + +LAW AND DESIGN IN NATURE[22] + + +In the paper which opens this discussion on "Law and Design in Nature," +Professor Newcomb announces in a single sentence a proposition, the +truth or falsehood of which, he tells us, is "the sole question +presented for discussion in the present series of papers." + +But, as soon as we examine this proposition, we find that it contains +not one sole question, but three. The three are independent of each +other, and do not necessarily stand or fall together. They are these:-- + +1. "The whole course of Nature, considered as a succession of +phenomena, is conditioned solely by antecedent causes." + +2. In the action of these causes, "no regard to consequences is +traceable." + +3. And no regard to consequences is "necessary to foresee the +phenomena." + +Of these three propositions I admit the truth of the first; deny +the truth of the second; and, for want of space, and because of its +relative unimportance, leave the third unexamined. + +The first proposition is so evidently true, and so universally +admitted, that it was hardly worth positing for discussion. It is +merely affirming that every natural phenomenon implies a cause. The +word "antecedent" is ambiguous, but, if it intends logical and not +chronological antecedence, it is unobjectionable. So understood, we are +merely asked if we can accept the law of universal causation; which +I suppose we shall all readily do, since this law is the basis of +theology no less than of science. Without it, we could not prove the +existence of the first cause. Professor Newcomb has divided us into two +conflicting schools, one of theology and the other of science. Taking +my place in the school of theology, I think I may safely assert for +my brethren that on this point there is no conflict, but that we all +admit the truth of the law of universal causation. It will be noticed +that Professor Newcomb has carefully worded his statement, so as not to +confine us to physical causes, nor even to exclude supernatural causes +from without, working into the nexus of natural laws. He does not +say "antecedent physical causes," nor does he say "causes which have +existed from the beginning." + +Admitting thus the truth of the first proposition, I must resolutely +deny that of the second; since, by accepting it, I should surrender +the very cause I wish to defend, namely, that we can perceive design +in Nature. Final causes are those which "regard consequences." The +principle of finality is defined by M. Janet (in his recent exhaustive +work, "Les Causes finales") as "the present determined by the future." +One example of the way in which we can trace in Nature "a regard to +consequences" is so excellently stated by this eminent philosopher +that we will introduce it here: "Consider what is implied in the egg +of a bird. In the mystery and night of incubation there comes, by the +combination of an incredible number of causes, a living machine within +the egg. It is absolutely separated from the external world, but every +part is related to some future use. The outward physical world which +the creature is to inhabit is wholly divided by impenetrable veils from +this internal laboratory; but a prestablished harmony exists between +them. Without, there is light; within, an optical machine adapted to +it. Without, there is sound; within, an acoustic apparatus. Without, +are vegetables and animals; within, organs for their reception and +assimilation. Without, is air; within, lungs with which to breathe it. +Without, is oxygen; within, blood to be oxygenized. Without, is earth; +within, feet are being made to walk on it. Without, is the atmosphere; +within, are wings with which to fly through it. Now imagine a blind +and idiotic workman, alone in a cellar, who simply by moving his limbs +to and fro should be found to have forged a key capable of opening +the most complex lock. If we exclude design, this is what Nature is +supposed to be doing." + +That design exists in Nature, and that earthly phenomena actually +depend on final causes as well as on efficient causes, appears from +the industry of man. Man is certainly a part of Nature, and those who +accept evolution must regard him as the highest development resulting +from natural processes. Now, all over the earth, from morning till +evening, men are acting for ends. "Regard to consequences is traceable" +in all their conduct. They are moved by hope and expectation. They +devise plans, and act for a purpose. From the savage hammering his +flint arrowheads, up to a Shakespeare composing "Hamlet," a Columbus +seeking a new way to Asia, or a Paul converting Europe to a Syrian +religion, human industry is a constant proof that a large part of +the course of Nature on this earth is the result of design. And, as +man develops into higher stages, this principle of design rises also +from the simple to the complex, taking ever larger forms. A ship, for +instance, shows throughout the adaptation of means to ends, by which +complex adaptations produce a unity of result. + +And that there is no conflict between the action of physical causes +and final causes is demonstrated by the works of man, since they all +result from the harmonious action of both. In studying human works we +ask two questions,--"How?" and "Why?" We ask, "What is it for?" and +"How is it done?" The two lines of inquiry run parallel, and without +conflict. So, in studying the works of Nature, to seek for design does +not obstruct the investigation of causes, and may often aid it. Thus +Harvey is said to have been led to the discovery of the circulation of +the blood by seeking for the use of the valves of the veins and heart. + +The human mind is so constituted that, whenever it sees an event, +it is obliged to infer a cause. So, whenever it sees adaptation, it +infers design. It is not necessary to know the end proposed, or who +were the agents. Adaptation itself, implying the use of means, leads us +irresistibly to infer intention. We do not know who built Stonehenge, +or some of the pyramids, or what they were built for; but no one doubts +that they were the result of design. This inference is strengthened +if we see combination toward an end, and preparation made beforehand +for a result which comes afterward. From preparation, combination, and +adaptation, we are led to believe in the presence of human design even +where we did not before know of the presence of human beings. A few +rudely shaped stones, found in a stratum belonging to the Quaternary +period, in which man had before not been believed to exist, changed +that opinion. Those chipped flints showed adaptation; from adaptation +design was inferred; and design implied the presence of man. + +Now, we find in Nature, especially in the organization and +instincts of animals, myriads of similar instances of preparation, +combination, and adaptation. Two explanations only of this occurred +to antiquity,--design and chance. Socrates, Plato, and others, were +led by such facts to infer the creation of the world by an intelligent +author--"ille opifex rerum." Democritus, Epicurus, and Lucretius, +ascribed it to the fortuitous concourse of atoms. But modern science +has expelled chance from the universe, and substituted law. Laplace, +observing forty-three instances in the solar system of planets and +their satellites revolving on their axes or moving in their orbits, +from west to east, declared that this could not be a mere coincidence. +Chance, therefore, being set aside, the question takes another form: +"Did the cosmos that we see come by design or by law?" + +But does this really change the question? Granting, for example, the +truth of the theory of the development of all forms of life, under the +operation of law, from a primal cell, we must then ask, "Did these +_laws_ come by chance or by design?" It is not possible to evade that +issue. If the universe resulted from non-intelligent forces, those +forces themselves must have existed as the result of chance or of +intelligence. If you put out the eyes, you leave blindness; if you +strike intelligence out of the creative mystery, you leave blind +forces, the result of accident. Whatever is not from intelligence is +from accident. To substitute law for chance is merely removing the +difficulty a little further back; it does not solve it. + +To eliminate interventions from the universe is not to remove design. +The most profound theists have denied such interruptions of the course +of Nature. Leibnitz is an illustrious example of this. Janet declares +him to have been the true author of the theory of evolution, by his +"Law of Continuity," of "Insensible Perceptions," and of "Infinitely +Small Increments." Yet he also fully believed in final causes. +Descartes, who objected to some teleological statements, believed that +the Creator imposed laws on chaos by which the world emerged into a +cosmos. We know that existing animals are evolved by a continuous +process from eggs, and existing vegetables by a like process from +seeds. No one ever supposed that there was less of design on this +account in their creation. So, if all existing things came at first by +a like process from a single germ, it would not argue less, but far +more, of design in the universe. + +The theory of "natural selection" does not enable us to dispense with +final causes. This theory requires the existence of forces working +according to the law of heredity and the law of variation, together +with a suitable environment. But whence came this arrangement, by +which a law of heredity was combined with a law of variation, and +both made to act in a suitable environment? Here we find again the +three marks of a designing intelligence: preparation, combination, +adaptation. That intelligence which combines and adapts means to ends +is merely remanded to the initial step of the process, instead of being +allowed to act continuously along the whole line of evolution. Even +though you can explain by the action of mechanical forces the whole +development of the solar system and its contents from a nebula, you +have only accumulated all the action of a creative intelligence in the +nebula itself. Because I can explain the mechanical process by which a +watch keeps time, I have not excluded the necessity of a watchmaker. +Because, walking through my neighbor's grounds, I come upon a water-ram +pumping up water by a purely mechanical process, I do not argue that +this mechanism makes the assumption of an inventor superfluous. In +human industry we perceive a power capable of using the blind forces +of Nature for an intelligent end; which prepares beforehand for the +intended result; which combines various conditions suited to produce +it, and so creates order, system, use. But we observe in Nature exactly +similar examples of order, method, and system, resulting from a vast +number of combinations, correlations, and adaptations of natural +forces. Man himself is such a result. He is an animal capable of +activity, happiness, progress. But innumerable causes are combined and +harmonized in his physical frame, each necessary to this end. As the +human intelligence is the only power we know capable of accomplishing +such results, analogy leads us to assume that a similar intelligence +presides over the like combinations of means to ends in Nature. If any +one questions the value of this argument from analogy, let him remember +how entirely we rely upon it in all the business of life. We _know_ +only the motives which govern our own actions; but we infer by analogy +that others act from similar motives. Knowing that we ourselves combine +means designed to effect ends, when we see others adapting means to +ends, we assume that they act also with design. Hence we have a right +to extend the argument further and higher. + +The result of what I have said is this: The phenomena of the universe +cannot be satisfactorily explained except by the study both of +efficient causes and of final causes. Routine scientists, confining +themselves to the one, and routine theologians, confining themselves +to the other, may suppose them to be in conflict. But men of larger +insight, like Leibnitz, Newton, Descartes, and Bacon, easily see the +harmony between them. Like Hegel they say: "Nature is no less artful +than powerful; it attains its end while it allows all things to act +according to their constitution;" or they declare with Bacon that "the +highest link of Nature's chain is fastened to the foot of Jupiter's +chair." But the belief in final causes does not imply belief in +supernatural intervention, nor of any disturbance in the continuity of +natural processes. It means that Nature is pervaded by an intelligent +presence; that mind is above and around matter; that mechanical laws +are themselves a manifestation of some providing wisdom, and that when +we say Nature we also say God.[23] + + + + +HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL + + + + +THE TWO CARLYLES, OR CARLYLE PAST AND PRESENT[24] + + +In Thomas Carlyle's earlier days, when he followed a better inspiration +than his present,--when his writings were steeped, not in cynicism, but +in the pure human love of his fellow beings,--in the days when he did +not worship Force, but Truth and Goodness,--in those days, it was the +fashion of critics to pass the most sweeping censures on his writings +as "affected," "unintelligible," "extravagant." But he worked his way +on, in spite of that superficial criticism,--he won for himself an +audience; he gained renown; he became authentic. _Now_, the same class +of critics admire and praise whatever he writes. For the rule with +most critics is that of the bully in school and college,--to tyrannize +over the new boys, to abuse the strangers, but to treat with respect +whoever has bravely fought his way into a recognized position. Carlyle +has fought his way into the position of a great literary chief,--so +now he may be ever so careless, ever so willful, and he will be spoken +of in high terms by all monthlies and quarterlies. When he deserved +admiration, he was treated with cool contempt; now that he deserves +the sharpest criticism, not only for his false moral position, but +for his gross literary sins, the critics treat him with deference and +respect. + +But let us say beforehand that we can never write of Thomas Carlyle +with bitterness. We have received too much good from him in past +days. He is our "Lost Leader," but we have loved and honored him as +few men were ever loved and honored. It is therefore with tenderness, +and not any cold, indifferent criticism, that we find fault with him +now. We shall always be grateful to the real Carlyle, the old Carlyle +of "Sartor Resartus," of the "French Revolution," of the "Life of +Schiller," of "Heroes and Hero-Worship," and of that long and noble +series of articles in the Edinburgh, Foreign Review, Westminster, and +Frazer, each of which illuminated some theme, and threw the glory of +genius over whatever his mind touched or his pencil drew. + + * * * * * + +Carlyle's "Frederick the Great"[25] seems to us a badly written book. +Let us consider the volume containing the fifteenth, sixteenth, and +seventeenth chapters. Nothing in these chapters is brought out clearly. +When we have finished the book, the mind is filled with a confusion of +vague images. We know that Mr. Carlyle is not bound to "provide us +with brains" as well as with a history, but neither was he so bound in +other days. Yet no such confusion was left after reading the "French +Revolution." How brilliantly distinct was every leading event, every +influential person, every pathetic or poetic episode, in that charmed +narrative! Who can forget Carlyle's account of the "Menads," the +King's "Flight to Varennes," the Constitutions that "would not march," +the "September Massacres," "Charlotte Corday,"--every chief tragic +movement, every grotesque episode, moving forward, distinct and clear, +to the final issue, "a whiff of grapeshot"? Is there anything like that +in this confused "Frederick"? + +Compare, for example, the chapters on Voltaire in the present volume +with the article on Voltaire published in 1829. + +The sixteenth book is devoted to the ten years of peace which followed +the second Silesian war. These were from 1746 to 1756. The book +contains fifteen chapters. Carlyle begins, in chapter i., by lamenting +that there is very little to be known or said about these ten years. +"Nothing visible in them of main significance but a crash of authors' +quarrels, and the crowning visit of Voltaire." Yet one would think +that matter enough might be found in describing the immense activity +of Friedrich, of which Macaulay says, "His exertions were such as were +hardly to be expected from a human body or a human mind." During these +years Frederick brought a seventh part of his people into the army, +and organized and drilled it under his own personal inspection, till +it became the finest in Europe. He compiled a code of laws, in which +he, among the first, abolished torture. He made constant journeys +through his dominions, examining the condition of manufactures, +arts, commerce, and agriculture. He introduced the strictest economy +into the expenditures of the state. He indulged himself, indeed, +in various architectural extravagances at Berlin and Potsdam,--but +otherwise saved every florin for his army. He wrote "Memoirs of the +House of Brandenburg," and an epic poem on the "Art of War." But our +author disdains to give us an account of these things. They are not +picturesque, they can be told in only general terms, and Carlyle +will tell us only what an eyewitness could see or a listener hear. +Accordingly, instead of giving us an account of these great labors of +his hero, he inserts (chapter ii.) "a peep at Voltaire and his divine +Emilie," "a visit to Frederick by Marshal Saxe;" (chapter iii.) a long +account of Candidate Linsenbarth's visit to the king; "Sir Jonas Hanway +stalks across the scene;" the lawsuit of Voltaire about the Jew Hirsch; +"a demon news-writer gives an idea of Friedrich;" the quarrel of +Voltaire and Maupertuis; "Friedrich is visible in Holland to the naked +eye for some minutes." + +This is very unsatisfactory. Reports of eyewitnesses are, no doubt, +picturesque and valuable; but so only on condition of being properly +arranged, and tending, in their use, toward some positive result. Then +the tone of banter, of irony, almost of persiflage, is discouraging. If +the whole story of Friedrich is so unintelligible, uninteresting, or +incommunicable, why take the trouble to write it? The _poco-curante_ +air with which he narrates, as though it were of no great consequence +whether he told his story or not, contrasts wonderfully with his early +earnestness. Carlyle writes this history like a man thoroughly _blas_. +Impossible for him to take any interest in it himself,--how, then, does +he expect to interest us? Has he not himself told us, in his former +writings, that the man who proposes to teach others anything must be +good enough to believe it first himself? + +Here is the problem we have to solve. How came this change from the +Carlyle of the Past to the Carlyle of the Present,--from Carlyle the +universal believer to Carlyle the universal skeptic,--from him to whom +the world was full of wonder and beauty, to him who can see in it +nothing but Force on the one side and Shams on the other? What changed +that tender, loving, brave soul into this hard cynic? And how was it, +as Faith and Love faded out of him, that the life passed from his +thought, the glory from his pen, and the page, once alive with flashing +ideas, turned into this confused heap of rubbish, in which silver +spoons, old shoes, gold sovereigns, and copper pennies are pitched out +promiscuously, for the patient reader to sift and pick over as he can? +In reading the Carlyle of thirty years ago, we were like California +miners,--come upon a rich _placer_, never before opened, where we could +all become rich in a day. Now the reader of Carlyle is a _chiffonier_, +raking in a heap of street dust for whatever precious matters may turn +up. + +To investigate this question is our purpose now,--and in doing so we +will consider, in succession, these two Carlyles. + +I. It was about the year 1830 that readers of books in this vicinity +became aware of a new power coming up in the literary republic. +Opinions concerning him varied widely. To some he seemed a Jack Cade, +leader of rebels, foe to good taste and all sound opinions. Especially +did his admiration for Goethe and for German literature seem to many +preposterous and extravagant. It was said of these, that "the force +of folly could no further go,"--that they "constituted a burlesque +too extravagant to be amusing." The tone of Carlyle was said to be of +"unbounded assumption;" his language to be "obscure and barbarous;" his +ideas composed of "extravagant paradoxes, familiar truths or familiar +falsehoods;" "wildest extravagance and merest silliness." + +But to others, and especially to the younger men, this new writer +came, opening up unknown worlds of beauty and wonder. A strange +influence, unlike any other, attracted us to his writing. Before we +knew his name, we knew _him_. We could recognize an article by our new +author as soon as we opened the pages of the Foreign Review, Edinburgh, +or Westminster, and read a few paragraphs. But it was not the style, +though marked by a singular freedom and originality--not the tone of +kindly humor, the good-natured irony, the happy illustrations brought +from afar,--not the amount of literary knowledge, the familiarity with +German, French, Italian, Spanish literature,--not any or all of these +which so bewitched us. We knew a young man who used to walk from a +neighboring town to Boston every week, in order to read over again two +articles by Carlyle in two numbers of the Foreign Review lying on a +table in the reading-room of the Athenum. This was his food, in the +strength of which he could go a week, till hunger drove him back to +get another meal at the same table. We knew other young men and young +women who taught themselves German in order to read for themselves +the authors made so luminous by this writer. Those were counted +fortunate who possessed the works of our author, as yet unpublished +in America,--his "Life of Schiller," his "German Romance," his Review +articles. What, then, was the charm,--whence the fascination? + +To explain this we must describe a little the state of literature and +opinion in this vicinity at the time when Carlyle's writings first made +their appearance. + +Unitarianism and Orthodoxy had fought their battle, and were resting +on their arms. Each had intrenched itself in certain positions, each +had won to its side most of those who legitimately belonged to it. +Controversy had done all it could, and had come to an end. Among the +Unitarians, the so-called "practical preaching" was in vogue; that is, +ethical and moral essays, pointing out the goodness of being good, +and the excellence of what was called "moral virtue." There was, no +doubt, a body of original thinkers and writers,--better thinkers and +writers, it may be, than we have now,--who were preparing the way for +another advance. Channing had already unfolded his doctrine of man, +of which the central idea is, that human nature is not to be moulded +by religion, but to be developed by it. Walker, Greenwood, Ware, and +their brave associates, were conducting this journal with unsurpassed +ability. But something more was needed. The general character of +preaching was not of a vitalizing sort. It was much like what Carlyle +says of preaching in England at the same period: "The most enthusiastic +Evangelicals do not preach a Gospel, but keep describing how it should +and might be preached; to awaken the sacred fire of faith is not their +endeavor; but at most, to describe how faith shows and acts, and +scientifically to distinguish true faith from false." It is "not the +Love of God which is taught, but the love of the Love of God." + +According to this, God was outside of the world, at a distance from +his children, and obliged to communicate with them in this indirect +way, by breaking through the walls of natural law with an occasional +miracle. There was no door by which he could enter into the sheepfold +to his sheep. Miracles were represented, even by Dr. Channing, as +abnormal, as "violations of the laws of nature;" something, therefore, +unnatural and monstrous, and not to be believed except on the best +evidence. God could not be supposed to break through the walls of this +house of nature, except in order to speak to his children on some +great occasions. That he had done it, in the case of Christianity, +could be proved by the eleven volumes of Dr. Lardner, which showed the +Four Gospels to have been written by the companions of Christ, and not +otherwise. + +The whole of this theory rested, it will be observed, on a sensuous +system of mental philosophy. "All knowledge comes through the senses," +was its foundation. Revelation, like every other form of knowledge, +must come through the senses. A miracle, which appeals to the sight, +touch, hearing, is the only possible proof of a divine act. For, +in the last analysis, all our theology rests on our philosophy. +Theology, being belief, must proceed according to those laws of belief, +whatever they are, which we accept and hold. The man who thinks that +all knowledge comes through the senses must receive his theological +knowledge also that way, and no other. This was the general opinion +thirty or forty years ago; hence this theory of Christianity, which +supposes that God is obliged to break his own laws in order to +communicate it. + +But the result of this belief was harmful. It tended to make +our religion formal, our worship a mere ceremony; it made real +communication with God impossible; it turned prayer into a +self-magnetizing operation; it left us virtually "without God and hope +in the world." Thanks to Him who never leaves himself without a witness +in the human heart, this theory was often nullified in practice by the +irrepressible instincts which it denied, by the spiritual intuitions +which it ridiculed. Even Professor Norton, its chief champion, had +a heart steeped in the sweetest piety. Denying, intellectually, all +intuitions of God, Duty, and Immortality, his beautiful and tender +hymns show the highest spiritual insight. Still it cannot be denied +that this theory tended to dry up the fountains of religious faith +in the human heart, and to leave us in a merely mechanical and +unspiritualized world. + +Now the first voice which came to break this enchantment was, to many, +the voice of Thomas Carlyle. It needed for this end, it always needs, a +man who could come face to face with Truth. Every great idol-breaker, +every man who has delivered the world from the yoke of Forms, has been +one who was able to see the substance of things, who was gifted with +the insight of realities. Forms of worship, forms of belief, at first +the channels of life, through which the Living Spirit flowed into human +hearts, at last became petrified, incrusted, choked. A few drops of the +vital current still ooze slowly through them, and our parched lips, +sucking these few drops, cling all the more closely to the form as it +becomes less and less a vehicle of life. The poorest word, old and +trite, is precious when there is no open vision. We do well continually +to resort to the half-dead form, "till the day dawn, and the day-star +arise in our hearts." + +But at last there comes a man capable of dispensing with the form,--a +man endowed with a high degree of the intuitive faculty,--a born seer, +a prophet, seeing the great realities of the universe with open vision. +The work of such a man is to break up the old formulas and introduce +new light and life. This work was done for the Orthodox thirty years +ago by the writings of Coleridge; for the Unitarians in this vicinity, +by the writings of Thomas Carlyle. + +This was the secret of the enthusiasm felt for Carlyle, in those +days, by so many of the younger men and women. He taught us to look at +realities instead of names, at substance instead of surface,--to see +God in the world, in nature, in life, in providence, in man,--to see +divine truth and beauty and wonder everywhere around. He taught that +the only organ necessary by which to see the divine in all things was +sincerity, or inward truth. And so he enabled us to escape from the +form into the spirit, he helped us to rise to that plane of freedom +from which we could see the divine in the human, the infinite in the +finite, God in man, heaven on earth, immortality beginning here, +eternity pervading time. This made for us a new heaven and a new earth, +a new religion and a new life. Faith was once more possible, a faith +not bought by the renunciation of mature reason or the beauty and glory +of the present hour. + +But all this was taught us by our new prophet, not by the intellect +merely, but by the spirit in which he spoke. He did not seem to be +giving us a new creed, so much as inspiring us with a new life. That +which came from his experience went into ours. Therefore it might +have been difficult, in those days, for any of his disciples to state +what it was that they had learned from him. They had not learned his +doctrine,--they had absorbed it. Hence, very naturally, came the +imitations of Carlyle, which so disgusted the members of the old +school. Hence the absurd Carlylish writing, the feeble imitations by +honest, but weak disciples of the great master. It was a pity, but not +unnatural, and it soon passed by. + +As Carlyle thus did his work, not so much by direct teaching as by an +influence hidden in all that he said, it did not much matter on what +subject he wrote,--the influence was there still. But his articles +on Goethe were the most attractive, because he asserted that in this +patriarch of German literature he had found one who saw in all things +their real essence, one whose majestic and trained intelligence could +interpret to us in all parts of nature and life the inmost quality, the +_terza essenza_, as the Italian Platonists called it, which made each +itself. Goethe was announced as the prophet of Realism. He, it should +seem, had perfectly escaped from words into things. He saw the world, +not through dogmas, traditions, formulas, but as it was in itself. To +him + + "the world's unwithered countenance + Was fresh as on creation's day." + +Consider the immense charm of such hopes as these! No wonder that the +critics complained that the disciples of Carlyle were "insensible +to ridicule." What did they care for the laughter, which seemed to +them, in their enthusiasm, like "the crackling of thorns under the +pot." Ridicule, in fact, never touches the sincere enthusiast. It is +a good and useful weapon against affectation, but it falls, shivered +to pieces, from the magic breastplate of truth. No sincere person, +at work in a cause which he knows to be important, ever minds being +laughed at. + +But besides his admirable discussions of Goethe, Carlyle's "Life of +Schiller" opened the portals of German literature, and made an epoch in +biography and criticism. It was a new thing to read a biography written +with such enthusiasm,--to find a critic who could really write with +reverence and tender love of the poet whom he criticised. Instead of +taking his seat on the judicial bench, and calling his author up before +him to be judged as a culprit, Carlyle walks with Schiller through the +circles of his poems and plays, as Dante goes with Virgil through the +Inferno and Paradiso. He accepts the great poet as his teacher and +master,[26] a thing unknown before in all criticism. It was supposed +that a biographer would become a mere Boswell if he looked up to his +hero, instead of looking down on him. It was not understood that it was +that "angel of the world," Reverence, which had exalted even a poor, +mean, vain fool, like Boswell, and enabled him to write one of the best +books ever written. It was not his reverence for Johnson which made +Boswell a fool,--his reverence for Johnson made him, a fool, capable of +writing one of the best books of modern times. + +This capacity of reverence in Carlyle--this power of perceiving a +divine, infinite quality in human souls--tinges all his biographical +writing with a deep religious tone. He wrote of Goethe, Schiller, +Richter, Burns, Novalis, even Voltaire, with reverence. He could +see their defects easily enough, he could playfully expose their +weaknesses; but beneath all was the sacred undertone of reverence for +the divine element in each,--for that which God had made and meant them +to be, and which they had realized more or less imperfectly in the +struggle of life. The difference between the reverence of a Carlyle +and that of a Boswell is, that one is blind and the other intelligent. +The one worships his hero down to his shoes and stockings, the other +distinguishes the divine idea from its weak embodiment. + +Two articles from this happy period--that on the "Signs of the Times" +and that called "Characteristics"--indicate some of Carlyle's leading +ideas concerning right thinking and right living. In the first, he +declares the present to be an age of mechanism,--not heroic, devout, +or philosophic. All things are done by machinery. "Men have no faith +in individual endeavor or natural force." "Metaphysics has become +material." Government is a machine. All this he thinks evil. The +living force is in the individual soul,--not mechanic, but dynamic. +Religion is a calculation of expediency, not an impulse of worship; no +thousand-voiced psalm from the heart of man to his invisible Father, +the Fountain of all goodness, beauty, and truth, but a contrivance by +which a small quantum of earthly enjoyment may be exchanged for a much +larger quantum of celestial enjoyment. "Virtue is pleasure, is profit." +"In all senses we worship and follow after power, which may be called a +physical pursuit." (Ah, Carlyle of the Present! does not that wand of +thine old true self touch thee?) "No man now loves truth, as truth must +be loved, with an infinite love; but only with a finite love, and, as +it were, _par amours_." + +In the other article, "Characteristics," printed two years later, in +1831, he unfolds the doctrine of "Unconsciousness" as the sign of +health in soul as well as body. He finds society sick everywhere; he +finds its religion, literature, science, all diseased, yet he ends +the article, as the other was ended, in hope of a change to something +better. + +These two articles may be considered as an introduction to his next +great work, "Sartor Resartus," or the "Clothes-Philosophy." Here, in a +vein of irony and genial humor, he unfolds his doctrine of substance +and form. The object of all thought and all experience is to look +through the clothes to the living beneath them. According to his book, +all human institutions are the clothing of society; language is the +garment of thought, the heavens and earth the time-vesture of the +Eternal. So, too, are religious creeds and ceremonies the clothing +of religion; so are all symbols the vesture of some idea; so are +the crown and sceptre the vesture of government. This book is the +autobiography of a seeker for truth. In it he is led from the shows of +things to their innermost substance, and as in all his other writings, +he teaches here also that sincerity, truthfulness, is the organ by +which we are led to the solid rock of reality, which underlies all +shows and shams. + +II. We now come to treat of Carlyle in his present aspect,--a much +less agreeable task. We leave Carlyle the generous and gentle, for +Carlyle the hard cynic. We leave him, the friend of man, lover of +his race, for another Carlyle, advocate of negro slavery, worshiper +of mere force, sneering at philanthropy, and admiring only tyrants, +despots, and slaveholders. The change, and the steps which led to it, +chronologically and logically, it is our business to scrutinize,--not a +grateful occupation indeed, but possibly instructive and useful. + +Thomas Carlyle, after spending his previous life in Scotland, and from +1827 to 1834 in his solitude at Craigenputtoch, removed to London +in the latter year, when thirty-eight years old. Since then he has +permanently resided in London, in a house situated on one of the quiet +streets running at right angles with the Thames. He came to London +almost an unknown man; he has there become a great name and power +in literature. He has had for friends such men as John Stuart Mill, +Sterling, Maurice, Leigh Hunt, Browning, Thackeray, and Emerson. His +"French Revolution" was published in 1837; "Sartor Resartus" (published +in Frazer in 1833, and in Boston in a volume in 1836) was put forth +collectively in 1838; and in the same year his "Miscellanies" (also +collected and issued in Boston in 1838) were published in London, in +four volumes. "Chartism" was issued in 1839. He gave four courses +of Lectures in Willis's rooms "to a select but crowded audience," +in 1837, 1838, 1839, and 1840. Only the last of these--"Heroes and +Hero-Worship"--was published. "Past and Present" followed in 1843, +"Oliver Cromwell" in 1845. In 1850 he printed "Latter-Day Pamphlets," +and subsequently his "Life of Sterling" (1851), and the four volumes, +now issued, of "Frederick the Great." + +The first evidence of an altered tendency is perhaps to be traced in +the "French Revolution." It is a noble and glorious book; but, as one +of his friendly critics has said, "its philosophy is contemptuous and +mocking, and it depicts the varied and gigantic characters which stalk +across the scene, not so much as responsible and living mortals, as +the mere mechanical implements of some tremendous and irresistible +destiny." In "Heroes and Hero-Worship" the habit has grown of revering +mere will, rather than calm intellectual and moral power. The same +thing is shown in "Past and Present," in "Cromwell," and in "Latter-Day +Pamphlets," which the critic quoted above says is "only remarkable as +a violent imitation of himself, and not of his better self." For the +works of this later period, indeed, the best motto would be that verse +from Daniel: "He shall exalt himself, and magnify himself, and speak +marvelous things; neither shall he regard the God of his fathers, but +in his stead shall he honor the God of Forces, a god whom his fathers +knew not." + +Probably this apostasy from his better faith had begun, before this, +to show itself in conversation. At least Margaret Fuller, in a letter +dated 1846, finds herself in his presence admiring his brilliancy, but +"disclaiming and rejecting almost everything he said." "For a couple of +hours," says she, "he was talking about poetry, and the whole harangue +was one eloquent proclamation of the defects in his own mind." "All +Carlyle's talk, another evening," says she, "was a defence of mere +force,--success the test of right; if people would not behave well, put +collars round their necks; find a hero, and let them be his slaves." +"Mazzini was there, and, after some vain attempts to remonstrate, +became very sad. Mrs. Carlyle said to me, 'These are but opinions to +Carlyle; but to Mazzini, who has given his all, and helped bring his +friends to the scaffold, in pursuit of such subjects, it is a matter of +life and death.'" + +As this mood of Mr. Carlyle comes out so strongly in the "Latter-Day +Pamphlets," it is perhaps best to dwell on them at greater leisure. + +The first is "The Present Time." In this he describes Democracy as +inevitable, but as utterly evil; calls for a government; finds most +European governments, that of England included, to be shams and +falsities,--no-government, or drifting, to be a yet greater evil. The +object, he states, is to find the noblest and best men to govern. +Democracy fails to do this; for universal balloting is not adequate to +the task. Democracy answered in the old republics, when the mass were +slaves, but will not answer now. The United States are no proof of its +success, for (1st) anarchy is avoided merely by the quantity of cheap +land, and (2d) the United States have produced no spiritual results, +but only material. Democracy in America is no-government, and "its only +feat is to have produced eighteen millions of the greatest _bores_ ever +seen in the world." Mr. Carlyle's plan, therefore, is to find, somehow, +the _best man_ for a ruler, to make him a despot, to make the mass of +the English and Irish slaves, to beat them if they will not work, to +shoot them if they still refuse. The only method of finding this best +man, which he suggests, is to _call for him_. Accordingly, Mr. Thomas +Carlyle _calls_, saying, "Best man, come forward, and govern." + +The sum, therefore, of his recipe for the diseases of the times is +SLAVERY. + +The second pamphlet is called "Model Prisons," and the main object of +this is to ridicule all attempts at helping men by philanthropy or +humanity. The talk of "Fraternity" is nonsense, and must be drummed +out of the world. Beginning with model prisons, he finds them much +too good for the "scoundrels" who are shut up there. He would have +them whipped and hung (seventy thousand in a year, we suppose, as in +bluff King Harry's time, with no great benefit therefrom). "Revenge," +he says, "is a right feeling against bad men,--only the excess of it +wrong." The proper thing to say to a bad man is, "Caitiff, I hate +thee." "A collar round the neck, and a cart-whip over the back," is +what he thinks would be more just to criminals than a model prison. The +whole effort of humanity should be to help the industrious and virtuous +poor; the criminals should be swept out of the way, whipt, enslaved, +or hung. As for human brotherhood, he does not admit brotherhood +with "scoundrels." Particularly disgusting to him is it to hear this +philanthropy to bad men called Christianity. Christianity, he thinks, +does not tell us to love the bad, but to hate them as God hates them. +According, probably, to his private expurgated version of the Gospel, +"that ye may be the children of your Father in heaven, whose sun rises +only on the good, and whose rain falls only on the just." + +"Downing Street" and "New Downing Street" are fiery tirades against +the governing classes in England. Mr. Carlyle says (according to his +inevitable refrain), that England does not want a reformed Parliament, +a body of talkers, but a reformed Downing Street, a body of workers. +He describes the utter imbecility of the English government, and calls +loudly for some able man to take its place. Two passages are worth +quoting; the first as to England's aspect in her foreign relations, +which is quite as true for 1864 as for 1854. + +"How it stands with the Foreign Office, again, one still less knows. +Seizures of Sapienza, and the like sudden appearances of Britain in +the character of Hercules-Harlequin, waving, with big bully-voice, +her sword of sharpness over field-mice, and in the air making horrid +circles (horrid Catherine-wheels and death-disks of metallic terror +from said huge sword) to see how they will like it. Hercules-Harlequin, +the Attorney Triumphant, the World's Busybody!" + +Or see the following description of the sort of rulers who prevail in +England, no less than in America:-- + +"If our government is to be a No-Government, what is the matter who +administers it? Fling an orange-skin into St. James Street, let the man +it hits be your man. He, if you bend him a little to it, and tie the +due official bladders to his ankles, will do as well as another this +sublime problem of balancing himself upon the vortexes, with the long +loaded pole in his hand, and will, with straddling, painful gestures, +float hither and thither, walking the waters in that singular manner +for a little while, till he also capsize, and be left floating feet +uppermost,--after which you choose another." + +Concerning which we may say, that if this is the result of monarchy and +aristocracy in England, we can stick a little longer to our democracy +in America. Mr. Carlyle says that the object of all these methods is to +find the ablest man for a ruler. He thinks our republican method very +insufficient and absurd,--much preferring the English system,--and then +tells us that this is the outcome of the latter; that you might as well +select your ruler by throwing an orange-skin into the street as by the +method followed in England. + +Despotism, tempered by assassination, seems to be Carlyle's notion of a +good government. + +The pamphlet "Stump-Orator" is simply a bitter denunciation of all +talking, speech-making, and writing, as the curse of the time, and ends +with the proposition to cut out the tongues of one whole generation, as +an act of mercy to them and a blessing to the human race. + +Thus this collection of "Latter-Day Pamphlets" consists of the +bitterest cynicism. Carlyle sits in it, as in a tub, snarling at +freedom, yelping at philanthropy, growling at the English government, +snapping at all men who speak or write, and ending with one long howl +over the universal falsity and hollowness of mankind in general. + +After which he proceeds to his final apotheosis of despotism pure and +simple, in this "Life of Frederick the Great." Of this it is not +necessary to say more than that Frederick, being an absolute despot, +but a very able one, having plunged Europe into war in order to steal +Silesia, is everywhere admired, justified, or excused by Carlyle, who +reserves his rebukes and contempt for those who find fault with all +this. + +That, with these opinions, Carlyle should have taken sides with the +slaveholders' conspiracy against the Union is not surprising. His +sympathies were with them; first, as slaveholders, secondly, as +aristocrats. He hates us because we are democrats, and he loves them +because they are despots and tyrants. Long before the outbreak of the +rebellion, he had ridiculed emancipation, and denounced as folly and +evil the noblest deed of England,--the emancipation of her West India +slaves. In scornful, bitter satire, he denounced England for keeping +the fast which God had chosen, in undoing the heavy burdens, letting +the oppressed go free, and breaking every yoke. He ridiculed the black +man, and described the poor patient African as "Quashee, steeped to +the eyes in pumpkin." In the hateful service of oppression he had +already done his best to uphold slavery and discourage freedom. And +while he fully believed in enslaving the laboring population, black or +white, and driving it to work by the cart-whip, he as fully abhorred +republicanism everywhere, and most of all in the United States. +He had exhausted the resources of language in vilifying American +institutions. It was a matter of course, therefore, that at the +outbreak of this civil war all his sympathies should be with those who +whip women and sell babies. + +How is it that this great change should have taken place? Men +change,--but not often in this way. The ardent reformer often hardens +into the stiff conservative. The radical in religion is very likely to +join the Catholic Church. If a Catholic changes his religion, he goes +over to atheism. To swing from one extreme to another, is a common +experience. But it is a new thing to see calmness in youth, violence in +age,--to find the young man wise and all-sided, the old man bigoted and +narrow. + +We think the explanation to be this. + +Thomas Carlyle from the beginning has not shown the least appreciation +of the essential thing in Christianity. Brought up in Scotland, +inheriting from Calvinism a sense of truth, a love of justice, and a +reverence for the Jewish Bible, he has never passed out of Judaism +into Christianity. To him, Oliver Cromwell is the best type of true +religion; inflexible justice the best attribute of God or man. He is +a worshiper of Jehovah, not of the God and Father of the Lord Jesus +Christ. He sees in God truth and justice; he does not see in him +love. He is himself a prophet after the type of Elijah and John the +Baptist. He is the voice crying in the wilderness; and we may say of +him, therefore, as was said of his prototype, "He was a burning and a +shining light, and ye were willing, for a season, to rejoice in his +light,"--but not always,--not now. + +Carlyle does not, indeed, claim to be a Jew, or to reject Christ. On +the contrary, he speaks of him with very sincere respect. He seems, +however, to know nothing of him but what he has read in Goethe about +the "worship of sorrow." The Gospel appears to him to be, essentially, +a worship of sorrow. That Christ "came to save sinners,"--of that +Carlyle has not the faintest idea. To him the notion of "saving +sinners" is only "rose-water philanthropy." He does not wish them +saved, he wishes them damned,--swept into hell as soon as convenient. + +But, as everything which is real has two sides, that of _truth_ and +that of _love_,--it usually happens that he who only sees _one_ side at +last ceases even to see that. All goodness, to Carlyle, is truth,--in +man it is sincerity, or love of reality, sight of the actual facts,--in +God it is justice, divine adherence to law, infinite guidance of the +world and of every human soul according to a strict and inevitable +rule of righteousness. At first this seems to be a providence,--and +Carlyle has everywhere, in the earlier epoch, shown full confidence in +Providence. But believe only in justice and truth,--omit the doctrine +of forgiveness, redemption, salvation,--and faith in Providence +becomes sooner or later a despairing fatalism. The dark problem of evil +remains insoluble without the doctrine of redemption. + +So it was that Carlyle, seeing at first the chief duty of man to be +the worship of reality, the love of truth, next made that virtue to +consist in sincerity, or being in earnest. Truth was being true to +one's self. In this lay the essence of heroism. So that Burns, being +sincere and earnest, was a hero,--Odin was a hero,--Mohammed was a +hero,--Cromwell was a hero,--Mirabeau and Danton were heroes,--and +Frederick the Great was a hero. That which was first the love of truth, +and caused him to reverence the calm intellectual force of Schiller and +Goethe, soon became earnestness and sincerity, and then became power. +For the proof of earnestness is power. So from power, by eliminating +all love, all tenderness, as being only rose-water philanthropy, he at +last became a worshiper of mere will, of force in its grossest form. +So he illustrates those lines of Shakespeare in which this process is +so well described. In "Troilus and Cressida" Ulysses is insisting on +the importance of keeping everything in its place, and giving to the +best things and persons their due priority. Otherwise, mere force will +govern all things. + + "Strength would be lord of imbecility,"-- + +as Carlyle indeed openly declares that it ought to be,-- + + "And the rude son should strike his father dead," + +which Carlyle does not quite approve of in the case of Dr. Francia. But +why not, if he maintains that strength is the measure of justice? + + "Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong + (Between whose endless jar justice resides) + Should lose their names and so should justice, too. + _Then everything includes itself in power, + Power into will, will into appetite; + And appetite, an universal wolf, + So doubly seconded with will and power, + Must make perforce an universal prey, + And, last, eat up himself._" + +Just so, in the progress of Carlyle's literary career, first, force +became right,--then, everything included itself in power,--next, power +was lost in will, and will in mere caprice or appetite. From his +admiration for Goethe, as the type of intellectual power, he passed to +the praise of Cromwell as the exponent of will, and then to that of +Frederick, whose appetite for plunder and territory was seconded by +an iron will and the highest power of intellect; but whose ambition +devoured himself, his country, and its prosperity, in the mad pursuit +of victory and conquest. + +The explanation, therefore, of our author's lapse, is simply this, that +he worshiped truth divorced from love, and so ceased to worship truth, +and fell into the idolatry of mere will. Truth without love is not +truth, but hard, willful opinion, just as love without truth is not +love, but weak good-nature and soft concession. + +Carlyle has no idea of that sublime feature of Christianity, which +shows to us God caring more for the one sinner who repents than the +ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance. To him one just +person deserves more care than ninety-nine sinners. Yet it is strange +that he did not learn from his master, Goethe, this essential trait +of the Gospel. For Goethe, in a work translated by Carlyle himself, +distinguishes between the three religions thus. The ethnic or Gentile +religions, he says, reverence _what is above us_,--the religion of the +philosopher reverences _what is on our own level_,--but Christianity +reverences _what is beneath us_. "This is the last step," says Goethe, +"which mankind were destined to attain,--to recognize humility +and poverty, mockery and despite, disgrace and wretchedness, as +divine,--nay, _even on sin and crime to look not as hindrances, but to +honor and love them as furtherances of what is holy_." + +On sin and crime, as we have seen, Carlyle looks with no such +tenderness. But if he does not care for the words of Christ, teaching +us that we must forgive if we hope to be forgiven, if he does not care +for the words of his master, Goethe, he might at least remember his own +exposition of this doctrine in an early work, where he shows that the +poor left to perish by disease infect a whole community, and declares +that the safety of all is involved in the safety of the humblest. + +In 1840, when he wrote "Chartism," Carlyle seems to have known better +than he did in 1855, when he wrote these "Latter-Day Pamphlets." _Then_ +he said:-- + +"To believe practically that the poor and luckless are here only as a +nuisance to be abraded and abated, and in some permissible manner made +away, and swept out of sight, is not an amiable faith." + +Of Ireland, too, he said:-- + +"We English pay, even now, the bitter smart of long centuries of +injustice to Ireland." "It is the feeling of _injustice_ that is +insupportable to all men. The brutalest black African feels it, and +cannot bear that he should be used unjustly. No man can bear it, or +ought to bear it." + +This seems like the "rose-water philanthropy" which he subsequently so +much disliked. In this book also he speaks of a "seven years' Silesian +robber-war,"--we trust not intending to call his beloved Frederick a +robber! And again he proposes, as one of the best things to be done +in England, to have all the people taught by government to read and +write,--the same thing which this American democracy, in which he could +see not one good thing, has so long been doing. That was the plan by +which England was to be saved,--a plan first suggested in England in +1840,--adopted and acted on in America for two hundred years. + +But just as love separated from truth becomes cruelty, so _truth_ +by itself--truth _not_ tempered and fulfilled by love--runs sooner +or later into falsehood. _Truth_, after a while, becomes dogmatism, +overbearing assertion, willful refusal to see and hear other than one's +own belief; that is to say, it becomes falsehood. Such has been the +case with our author. On all the subjects to which he has committed +himself he closes his eyes, and refuses to see the other side. Like his +own symbol, the mighty Bull, he makes his charge _with his eyes shut_. + +Determined, for example, to rehabilitate such men as Mirabeau, +Cromwell, Frederick, and Frederick's father, he does thorough work, and +defends or excuses all their enormities, palliating whenever he cannot +justify. + +What can we call this which he says[27] concerning the execution of +Lieutenant Katte, by order of old King Friedrich Wilhelm? Tired of +the tyranny of his father, tired of being kicked and caned, the young +prince tried to escape. He was caught and held as a deserter from the +army, and his father tried to run him through the body. Lieutenant +Katte, who had aided him in getting away, having been kicked and caned, +was sent to a court-martial to be tried. The court-martial found him +guilty not of deserting, but of intending to desert, and sentenced +him to two years' imprisonment. Whereupon the king went into a rage, +declared that Katte had committed high treason, and ordered him to be +executed. Whereupon Carlyle thus writes:-- + +"'Never was such a transaction before or since in modern history,' +cries the angry reader; 'cruel, like the grinding of human hearts under +millstones; like----' Or, indeed, like the doings of the gods, which +are cruel, but not that alone." + +In other words, Carlyle cannot make up his mind frankly to condemn +this atrocious murder, and call it by its right name. He must needs +try to sophisticate us by talking about "the doings of the gods." +Because Divine Providence takes men out of the world in various ways, +it is therefore allowable to a king, provided he be a hero grim enough +and "earnest" enough, to kick men, cane them, and run them through +the body when he pleases; and, after having sent a man to be tried by +court-martial, if the court acquits him, to order him to be executed by +his own despotic will. A truth-telling Carlyle ought to have said, "I +admit this is murder; but I like the old fellow, and so I will call it +right." A Carlyle grown sophistical mumbles something about its being +like "the doings of the gods," and leaves off with that small attempt +at humbug. Be brave, my men, and defend my Lord Jeffreys next for +bullying juries into hanging prisoners. Was not Jeffreys "grim" too? +In fact, are not most murderers "grim"? + +We have had occasion formerly, in this journal, to examine the writings +of another very positive and clear-headed thinker,--Mr. Henry James. +Mr. James is, in his philosophy, the very antithesis of Carlyle. +With equal fervor of thought, with a like vehemence of style, with a +somewhat similar contempt for his opponents, Mr. James takes exactly +the opposite view of religion and duty. As Carlyle preaches the law, +and the law alone, maintaining justice as the sole Divine attribute, so +Mr. James preaches the Gospel only, denying totally that to the Divine +Mind any distinction exists between saint and sinner, unless that the +sinner is somewhat more of a favorite than the saint. We did not, do +not, agree with Mr. James in his anti-nomianism; as between him and +Carlyle, we think his doctrine far the truer and nobler. He stands on +a higher plane, and sees much the farther. A course of reading in Mr. +James's books might, we think, help our English cynic not a little. + +God is the perfect harmony of justice and love. His justice is warmed +through and through with love, his love is sanctified and made strong +by justice. And so, in Christ, perfect justice was fulfilled in perfect +love. But in him first was fully revealed, in this world, the Divine +fatherly tenderness to the lost, to the sinner, to those lowest down +and farthest away. In him was taught that our own redemption from +evil does not lie in despising and hating men worse than ourselves, +but in saving them. The hard Pharisaic justice of Carlyle may call +this "rose-water philanthropy," but till he accepts it from his heart, +and repents of his contempt for his fallen fellowmen, till he learns +to love "scoundrels," there is no hope for him. He lived once in the +heaven of reverence, faith, and love; he has gone from it into the hell +of Pharisaic scorn and contempt. Till he comes back out of that, there +is no hope for him. + +But such a noble nature cannot be thus lost. He will one day, let us +trust, worship the divine love which he now abhors. Cromwell asked, on +his death-bed, "if those once in a state of grace could fall," and, +being assured not, said, "I am safe then, for I am sure I was once in a +state of grace." There is a truth in this doctrine of the perseverance +of saints. Some truths once fully seen, even though afterward rejected +by the mind and will, stick like a barbed arrow in the conscience, +tormenting the soul till they are again accepted and obeyed. Such a +truth Carlyle once saw, in the great doctrine of reverence for the +fallen and the sinful. He will see it again, if not in this world, then +in some other world. + +The first Carlyle was an enthusiast, the last Carlyle is a cynic. From +enthusiasm to cynicism, from the spirit of reverence to the spirit +of contempt, the way seems long, but the condition of arriving is +simple. Discard LOVE, and the whole road is passed over. Divorce love +from truth, and truth ceases to be open and receptive,--ceases to be a +positive function, turns into acrid criticism, bitter disdain, cruel +and hollow laughter, empty of all inward peace. Such is the road which +Carlyle has passed over, from his earnest, hopeful youth to his bitter +old age. + +Carlyle fulfilled for many, during these years, the noble work of a +mediator. By reverence and love he saw what was divine in nature, in +man, and in life. By the profound sincerity of his heart, his worship +of reality, his hatred of falsehood, he escaped from the commonplaces +of literature to a better land of insight and knowledge. So he was +enabled to lead many others out of their entanglements, into his own +luminous insight. It was a great and blessed work. Would that it had +been sufficient for him! + + + + +BUCKLE AND HIS THEORY OF AVERAGES[28] + + +We welcomed kindly the first installment of Mr. Buckle's work,[29] +giving a cursory account of it, and hinting, rather than urging, +the objections which readily suggested themselves against theories +concerning Man, History, Civilization, and Human Progress. But now +it seems a proper time to discuss with a little more deliberation +the themes opened before us by this intrepid writer,--this latest +champion of that theory of the mind which in the last century was +called Materialism and Necessity, and which in the present has been +re-baptized as Positivism. + +The doctrines of which Mr. Buckle is the ardent advocate seem to us, +the more thoroughly we consider them, to be essentially theoretical, +superficial, and narrow. They are destitute of any broad basis of +reality. In their application by Mr. Buckle, they fail to solve +the historic problems upon which he tries their power. With a show +of science, they are unscientific, being a mere collection of +unverified hypotheses. And if Mr. Buckle should succeed in introducing +his principles and methods into the study of history, it would +be equivalent to putting backward for about a century this whole +department of thought. + +Yet, while we state this as our opinion, and one which we shall +presently endeavor to substantiate by ample proof, we do not deny to +Mr. Buckle's volumes the interest arising from vigorous and independent +thinking, faithful study of details, and a strong, believing purpose. +They are interesting and valuable contributions to our literature. +But this is not on account of their purpose, but in spite of it; +notwithstanding their doctrines, not because of them. The interest +of these books, as of all good history, derives itself from their +picturesque reproduction of life. Whatever of value belongs to Mr. +Buckle's work is the same as that of the writings of Macaulay, Motley, +and Carlyle. Whoever has the power of plunging like a diver into the +spirit of another period, sympathizing with its tone, imbuing himself +with its instincts, sharing its loves and hates, its faith and its +skepticism, will write its history so as to interest us. For whoever +will really show to us the breathing essence of any age, any state of +society, or any course of human events, cannot fail of exciting that +element of the soul which causes man everywhere to rejoice in meeting +with man. He who will write the history of Arabians, Kelts, or Chinese, +of the Middle Ages, the Norman Sea-kings, or the Roman Plebs, so +that we can see ourselves beneath these diverse surroundings of race, +country, and period, and see that these also are really MEN,--this +writer instantly awakens our interest, whether he call himself poet, +novelist, or historian. In all cases, the secret of success is to write +so as to enable the reader to identify himself with the characters +of another age. Great authors enable us to look at actions, not +from without, but from within. When we read the historic plays of +Shakespeare, or the historic novels of Scott, we are charmed by finding +that kings and queens are, after all, our poor human fellow-creatures, +sharing all our old, familiar struggles, pains, and joys. When we read +that great historic masterpiece, the "French Revolution" of Carlyle, +the magic touch of the artist introduces us into the heart of every +character in the motley, shifting scene. We are the poor king escaping +to Varennes under the dewy night and solemn stars. We are tumultuous +Mirabeau, with his demonic but generous soul. We are devoted Charlotte +Corday; we are the Gironde; we the poor prisoners of Terror, waiting in +our prison for the slow morning to bring the inevitable doom. This is +the one indispensable faculty for the historian; and this faculty Mr. +Buckle so far possesses as to make his page a living one. It is true +that his sympathy is intellectual rather than imaginative. It is not of +the high order of Shakespeare, nor even of that of Carlyle. But, so +far as it goes, it is a true faculty, and makes a true historian. + +Yet we cannot but notice how the effectual working of this historic +organ is interfered with by the dogmatic purpose of Mr. Buckle; and, +on the other hand, how his theoretic aim is disturbed by the interest +of his narrative. His history is always meant to be an argument. His +narrations of events are never for their own sake, but always to +prove some thesis. There is, therefore, no consecutive narrative, no +progress of events, no sustained interest. These volumes are episodes, +put together we cannot well say how, or why. In the seventh chapter +of the first volume we have a graphic description of the Court life +in England in the days of Charles II., James II., William, and the +Georges, in connection with the condition of the Church and clergy. +From this we are taken, in the next chapter, to France, and to similar +relations between Henry IV., Louis XIII., Richelieu, and the French +Catholics and Protestants. We then are brought back to England, to +consider the protective system there; and once more we return to +France, to investigate its operation in that country. Afterward we have +an essay on "The State of Historical Literature in France from the +End of the Sixteenth to the End of the Eighteenth Century," followed +by another essay on the "Proximate Causes of the French Revolution." +Many very well finished biographic portraits are given us in these +chapters. There are excellent sketches of Burke, Voltaire, Richelieu, +Bossuet, Montesquieu, Rousseau, Bichat, in the first volume; and of +Adam Smith, Reid, Black, Leslie, Hutton, Cullen, Hunter, in the second. +These numerous biographic sketches, which are often accompanied with +good literary notices of the writings of these authors, are very ably +written; but it is curious to remember, while reading them, that Mr. +Buckle thinks that, as history advances, it has less and less to do +with biography. + +There is an incurable defect in the method of this work. On the one +hand, the dogmatic purpose is constantly breaking into the interest +of the narration; on the other, the interest of the narration is +continually enticing the writer from his argument into endless episodes +and details of biography. The argument is deprived of its force by the +story; the story is interrupted continually on account of the argument. +Mr. Buckle has mistaken the philosophy of history for history itself. +A history of civilization is not a piece of metaphysical argument, but +a consecutive account of the social progress either of an age or of a +nation. This irreconcilable conflict of purpose, while it leaves to the +parts of the work their value, destroys its worth as a whole. + +Mr. Buckle might probably inquire whether we would eliminate wholly +from history all philosophic aim, all teleologic purpose. He objects, +and very properly, to degrading history into mere annals, without any +instructive purpose. We agree with him. We do not admire the style +of history which feels neither passion nor sympathy, which narrates +crimes without indignation, and which has no aim in its narration +except to entertain a passing hour. But it is one thing deliberately +to announce a thesis and bring detached passages of history to prove +it, and another to write a history which, by its incidents, spirit, +and characters shall convey impulse and instruction. The historian +may dwell upon the events which illustrate his convictions, and may +develop the argument during the progress of his moving panorama; but +the history itself, as it moves, should impress the lesson. The history +of Mr. Motley, for example, illustrates and impresses the evils of +bigotry, superstition, and persecution on the life of nations, quite as +powerfully as does that of Mr. Buckle; but Mr. Motley never suspends +his narrative in order to prove to us logically that persecution is an +evil. + +Mr. Buckle, in his style of writing, belongs to a modern class of +authors whom we may call the bullying school. It is true that he is far +less extravagant than some of them, and indeed is not deeply tinged +with their peculiar manner. The first great master of this class of +writers is Thomas Carlyle; but their peculiarity has been carried to +its greatest extent by Ruskin. Its characteristic feature is treating +with supreme contempt, as though they were hopeless imbeciles, all who +venture to question the _dicta_ of the writer. This superb arrogance +makes these writers rather popular with the English, who, as a nation, +like equally well to bully and to be bullied. + +Buckle professes to have at last found the only true key to history, +and to have discovered some of its important laws, especially those +which regard the progress of civilization. + +I. _His View of Freedom._--Mr. Buckle's fundamental position is, that +the actions of men are governed by fixed laws, and that, when these +laws are discovered, history will become a science, like geometry, +geology, or astronomy. The chief obstacle hitherto to its becoming a +science has been the belief that the actions of men were determined, +not by fixed laws, but by free will (which he considers equivalent +to chance), or by supernatural interference or providence (which he +regards as equivalent to fate). "We shall thus be led," he says (Vol. +I. p. 6, Am. ed.), "to one vast question, which, indeed, lies at the +root of the whole subject, and is simply this: Are the actions of men, +and therefore of societies, governed by fixed laws, or are they the +result either of chance or of supernatural interference?" Identifying +freedom with chance, Mr. Buckle denies that there is such a thing, and +maintains that every human action is determined by some antecedent, +inward or outward, and that not one is determined by the free choice +of the man himself. His principal argument against free will is the law +of averages, which we will therefore proceed to consider in its bearing +on this point. + +Statistics, carefully collected during many years and within different +countries, show a regularity of return in certain vices and crimes, +which indicates the presence of law. Thus, about the same number of +murders are committed every year in certain countries and large cities, +and even the instruments by which they are committed are employed in +the same proportion. Suicide also follows some regular law. "In a +given state of society, a certain number of persons must put an end to +their own life." In London, about two hundred and forty persons kill +themselves every year,--in years of panic and disaster a few more, in +prosperous years not quite so many. Other actions of men are determined +in the same way,--not by personal volition, but by some controlling +circumstance. "It is now known that the number of marriages in England +bears a fixed and definite relation to the price of corn." "Aberrations +of memory are marked by this general character of necessary and +invariable order." The same average number of persons forget every +year to direct the letters dropped into the post-offices of London and +Paris. Facts of this kind "force us to the conclusion," says Buckle, +"that the offenses of men are the result, not so much of the vices of +the individual offender, as of the state of society into which he is +thrown." + +The argument then is: If man's moral actions are under law, they are +not free, for freedom is the absence of law. The argument of Mr. Buckle +is conclusive, provided freedom does necessarily imply the absence of +law. But such, we think, is not the fact. + +The actions of man do not proceed solely from the impact of external +circumstances; for then he would be no better than a ball struck with a +bat. Nor do they proceed solely from the impulses of his animal nature; +for then he would be only a superior kind of machine, moved by springs +and wheels. But in addition to external and internal impulse there is +also in man the power of personal effort, activity, will,--to which we +give the name of Free Choice, or Freedom. This modifies and determines +a part of his actions,--while a second part come from the influence +of circumstance, and a third from organic instincts and habitual +tendencies. + +Now, it is quite certain that no man has freedom of will enough to +cause _his whole_ nexus of activity to proceed from it. For if a man +could cause _all_ his actions to proceed by a mere choice or effort, +he could turn himself at will into another man. In other words, there +could be no such thing as permanent moral character. No one could be +described; for while we were describing him, he might choose to be +different, and so would become somebody else. It is evident, therefore, +that some part of every man's life must lie outside of the domain of +freedom. + +In what, then, does the essence of freedom consist? If it be not the +freedom to do whatever we choose, what is it? Plainly, if we analyze +our own experience, we shall find that it is simply what its scholastic +name implies, freedom of choice, or _liber arbitrio_. It is not, in the +last analysis, freedom to act, but it is freedom to choose. + +But freedom to choose what? Can we choose anything? Certainly not. Our +freedom of choice is limited by our knowledge. We cannot choose that +which we do not know. We must choose something within the range of our +experience. And our freedom of choice consists in the alternative of +making this choice or omitting to make it,--exerting ourselves or not +exerting ourselves. Consciousness testifies universally to this extent +of freedom. We know by our consciousness that we can exert ourselves or +not exert ourselves at any moment,--exert ourselves to act or not exert +ourselves to act, to speak or not to speak. This power of making or not +making an effort is freedom in its simplest and lowest form. + +In this lowest form, it is apparent that human freedom is inadequate to +give any permanent character to human actions. They will be directed by +the laws of organization and circumstance. Freedom in this sense may +be compared to the power which a man has of rowing a boat in the midst +of a fog. He may exert himself to row, he may row at any moment forward +or backward, to the right or to the left. He has this freedom,--but it +does not enable him to go in any special direction. Not being able to +direct his boat to any fixed aim, it is certain that it will be drifted +by the currents or blown by the winds. Freedom in this form is only +willfulness, because devoid of an inward law. + +But let the will direct itself by a fixed law, and it at once becomes +true freedom, and begins to impress itself upon actions, modifying the +results of organization and circumstance. Not even in this case can +it destroy those results; it only modifies them. It enters as a third +factor with those other two to produce the product. The total character +of a man's actions will be represented by a formula, thus: John's +Organization John's Circumstances John's Freedom = John's Character. + +Apply this to the state of society where the law of averages has been +discovered. In such a society there are always to be found three +classes of persons. In the first class, freedom is either dormant or +is mere willfulness. The law of mind is subject therefore in these to +the law of the members. The will is an enslaved will, and its influence +on action is a nullity, not needing to be taken into the account. From +this class come the largest proportion of the crimes and vices, regular +in number because resulting from constant conditions of society. Of +these persons we can predict with certainty that, under certain strong +temptations to evil, they will inevitably yield. + +But in another class of persons the will has learned to direct itself +by a moral law toward a fixed aim. The man in the boat is now steering +by a compass, and ceases to be the sport of current and gale. The will +reacts upon organization, and directs circumstance. The man has learned +how to master his own nature, and how to arrange external conditions. +We can predict with certainty that under no possible influences will +this class yield to some forms of evil. + +There is also in each community a third class, who are struggling, but +not emancipated. They are partly free, but not wholly so. From this +class come the slight variations of the average, now a little better, +now a little worse. + +Applying this view of the freedom of the will to history, we see that +the problem is far more complicated than Mr. Buckle admits. Man's +freedom, with him, is an element not to be taken into consideration, +because it does not exist. But the truth is, that human freedom is +not only a factor, but a variable factor, the value of which changes +with every variety of human condition. In the savage condition it +obeys organization and circumstances, and has little effect on social +condition. But as civilization advances, the power of freedom to +react on organization and circumstance increases, varying however +again, according to the force and inspiration of the ideas by which it +is guided. And of all these ideas, precisely those which Mr. Buckle +underrates, namely, moral and religious ideas, are those which most +completely emancipate the will from circumstances, and vitalize it with +an all-conquering force. + +To see this, take two extreme cases,--that of an African Hottentot, and +that of Joan of Arc. Free will in the African is powerless; he remains +the helpless child of his situation. But the Maid of Arc, though +utterly destitute of Mr. Buckle's "Intellectual Truths" (being unable +to read or write, and having received no instruction save religious +ideas), and wanting in the "Skepticism" which he thinks so essential to +all historic progress, yet develops a power of will which reacts upon +circumstances so as to turn into another channel the current of French +history. All bonds of situation and circumstance are swept asunder +by the power of a will set free by mighty religious convictions. +The element of freedom, therefore, is one not to be neglected by an +historian, except to his own loss. + +The law of averages applies only to undeveloped men, or to the +undeveloped sides of human nature, where the element of freedom has not +come in play. When the human race shall have made such progress that it +shall contain a city inhabited by a million persons all equal to the +Apostle Paul and the Apostle John in spiritual development, it will +not be found that a certain regular number kill their wives every year, +or that from two hundred and thirteen to two hundred and forty annually +commit suicide. Nor will this escape from the averages be owing to an +increased acquaintance with physical laws so much as to a higher moral +development. We shall return to this point, however, when we examine +more fully Buckle's doctrine in regard to the small influence of +religion on civilization. + +II. _Mr. Buckle's View of Organization._--Mr. Buckle sets aside +entirely the whole great fact of organization, upon which the science +of ethnology is based. Perhaps the narrowness of his mind shows more +conspicuously in this than elsewhere. He attributes no influence to +race in civilization. While so many eminent writers at the present +day say, with Mr. Knox, that "Race is everything," Mr. Buckle quietly +rejoins that Race is nothing. "Original distinctions of race," he +says, "are altogether hypothetical." "We have no decisive ground for +saying that the moral and intellectual faculties in man are likely to +be greater in an infant born in the most civilized part of Europe, +than in one born in the wildest region of a barbarous country." (Vol. +I. p. 127, Am. ed.) "We often hear of hereditary talents, hereditary +vices, and hereditary virtues; but whoever will critically examine +the evidence will find that we have no proof of their existence." He +doubts the existence of hereditary insanity, or a hereditary tendency +to suicide, or even to disease. (Vol. I. p. 128, note.) He does not +believe in any progress of natural capacity in man, but only of +opportunity, "that is, an improvement in the circumstances under which +that capacity after birth comes into play." "Here then is the gist of +the whole matter. The progress is one, not of internal power, but of +external advantage." He goes on to say, in so many words, that the only +difference between a barbarian child and a civilized child is in the +pressure of surrounding circumstances. In support of these opinions he +quotes Locke and Turgot. + +It is difficult to understand how an intelligent and well-informed man, +an immense reader and active thinker, can have lived in the midst of +the nineteenth century and retain these views. For students at every +extreme of thought have equally recognized the force of organization, +the constancy of race, the permanent varieties existing in the human +family, the steady ruling of the laws of descent. If there is any one +part of the science of anthropology in which the nineteenth century has +reversed the judgment of the eighteenth,--and that equally among men of +science, poets, materialists, idealists, anatomists, philologists,--it +is just here. To find so intelligent a man reproducing the last century +in the midst of the present is a little extraordinary. + +Perhaps there could not be found four great thinkers more different in +their tendencies of thought and range of study than Goethe, Spurzheim, +Dr. Prichard, and Max Mller; yet these four, each by his own method of +observation, have shown with conclusive force the law of variety and +of permanence in organization. Goethe asserts that every individual +man carries from his birth to his grave an unalterable speciality of +being,--that he is, down to the smallest fibre of his character, one +and the same man; and that the whole mighty power of circumstance, +modifying everything, cannot abolish anything,--that organization and +circumstance hold on together with an equally permanent influence in +every human life. Gall and Spurzheim teach that every fibre of the +brain has its original quality and force, and that such qualities +and forces are transmitted by obscure but certain laws of descent. +Prichard, with immense learning, describes race after race, giving +the types of each human family in its physiology. And, finally, the +great science of comparative philology, worked out by such thinkers +and students as Bopp, Latham, Humboldt, Bunsen, Max Mller, and a +host of others, has proved the permanence of human varieties by ample +glossological evidence. Thus the modern science of ethnology has +arisen, on the basis of physiology, philology, and ethology, and is +perhaps the chief discovery of the age. Yet Mr. Buckle quietly ignores +the whole of it, and continues, with Locke, to regard every human mind +as a piece of white paper, to be written on by external events,--a +piece of soft putty, to be moulded by circumstances. + +The facts on which the science of ethnology rests are so numerous and +so striking, that the only difficulty in selecting an illustration +is from the quantity and richness of material. But we may take two +instances,--that of the Teutons and Kelts, to show the permanence +of differences under the same circumstances, and that of the Jews, +the Arabs, and the Gypsies, to show the continuity of identity under +different circumstances. For if it can be made evident that different +races of men preserve different characters, though living for long +periods under similar circumstances, and that the same race preserves +the same character, though living for long periods under different +circumstances, the proof is conclusive that character is _not_ derived +from circumstances only. We shall not indeed go to the extreme of +such ethnologists as Knox, Nott, or Gliddon, and say that "Race is +everything, and circumstances nothing," but we shall see that Mr. +Buckle is mistaken in saying that "Circumstances are everything, and +race nothing." + +The differences of character between the German and Keltic varieties +of the human race are marked, but not extreme. They both belong to +the same great Indo-European or Aryan family. They both originated +in Asia, and the German emigration seems to have followed immediately +after that of the Kelts. Yet when described by Csar, Tacitus, and +Strabo, they differed from each other exactly as they differ now. They +have lived for some two thousand years in the same climate, under +similar political and social institutions, and yet they have preserved +their original diversity. + +According to the description of Csar[30] and Tacitus[31] the German +tribes differed essentially from the Gauls or Kelts in the following +particulars. The Germans loved freedom, and were all free. The Kelts +did not care for freedom. The meanest German was free. But all the +inferior people among the Kelts were virtually slaves. The Germans had +no priests, and did not care for sacrifices. The Kelts had a powerful +priesthood and imposing religious rites. The Germans were remarkable +for their blue eyes, light hair, and large limbs. The Kelts were +dark-complexioned. The Gauls were more quick, but less persevering, +than the Germans. Ready to attack, they were soon discouraged. +Tacitus, describing the Germans, says: "They are a pure, unmixed, and +independent race; there is a family likeness through the nation, the +same form and features, stern blue eyes, ruddy hair; a strong sense +of honor; reverence for women; religious, but without a ritual; +superstitiously believing in supernatural signs and portents, but +not in a priesthood; not living in cities, but in scattered homes; +respecting marriage; the children brought up in the dirt, among the +cattle; hospitable, frank, and generous; fond of drinking beer, and +eating preparations of milk." + +The German and Keltic races, thus distinguished in the days of Csar, +are equally distinct to-day. Catholicism, the religion of a priesthood, +a ritual, and authority, prevails among the Kelts; Protestantism among +the Germans. Ireland, being mainly Keltic, is Catholic, though a part +of a Protestant nation. France, being mainly Keltic, is also Catholic, +in spite of all its illumination, its science, and its knowledge of +"intellectual laws." But as France contains a large infusion of German +(Frankish) blood, it is the most Protestant of Catholic nations; while +Scotland, containing the largest infusion of Keltic blood, is the +most priest-ridden of Protestant nations. This last fact, which Mr. +Buckle asserts, and spends half a volume in trying to account for, +is explained at once by ethnology. Wherever the Germans go to-day, +they remain the same people they were in the days of Tacitus; they +carry the same blue eyes and light hair, the same love of freedom and +hatred of slavery, the same tendencies to individualism in thought +and life, the same tendency to superstitious belief in supernatural +events, even when without belief in any religion or church; and even +the same love for beer, and "lac concretum," now called "schmeercase" +in our Western settlements. The Kelt, also, everywhere continues the +same. He loves equality more than freedom. He is a democrat, but not +an abolitionist. Very social, clannish, with more wit than logic, very +sensitive to praise, brave, but not determined, needing a leader, he +carries the spirit of the Catholic Church into Protestantism, and the +spirit of despotism into free institutions. And that physical, no less +than mental qualities, continue under all climates and institutions is +illustrated by the blue eyes and light hair which the traveller meets +among the Genoese and Florentines, reminding him of their Lombard +ancestors; while their superior tendencies to freedom in church and +state suggest the same origin. + +Nineteen hundred years have passed since Julius Csar pointed out +these diversities of character then existing between the Germans and +Kelts. Since then they have passed from barbarism to civilization. +Instead of living in forests, as hunters and herdsmen, they have built +cities, engaged in commerce, manufactures, and agriculture. They have +been converted to Christianity, have conquered the Roman empire, +engaged in crusades, fought in a hundred different wars, developed +literatures, arts, and sciences, changed and changed again their forms +of government, have been organized by Feudalism, by Despotism, by +Democracy, have gone through the Protestant reformation, have emigrated +to all countries and climates; and yet, at the end of this long period, +the German everywhere remains a German, and the Kelt a Kelt. The +descriptions of Tacitus and Csar still describe them accurately. And +yet Mr. Buckle undertakes to write a history of civilization without +taking the element of race into account. + +Perhaps, however, the power of this element of race is illustrated +still more strikingly in the case of the wandering and dispersed +families, who, having ceased to be a nation, continue in their +dispersions to manifest the permanent type of their original and +ineffaceable organization. Wherever the Jew goes, he remains a Jew. +In all climates, under all governments, speaking all languages, his +physical and mental features continue the same. This amazing fact +has been held by many theologians to be a standing miracle of Divine +Providence. But Providence works by law, and through second causes, and +uses in this instance the laws of a specially stubborn organization +and the force of a tenacious and persistent blood to accomplish its +ends. The same kind of blood in the kindred Semitic family of Arabs +produces a like result, though to a less striking degree. The Bedouins +wander for thousands of miles away from their peninsula, but always +continue Arabs in appearance and character. The light, sinewy body and +brilliant dark eye, the abstemious habit and roaming tendency, mark the +Arab in Hindostan or Barbary. It is a thousand years since these nomad +tribes left their native home, but they continue the same people on the +Persian Gulf or amid the deserts of Sahara. + +The case of the Gypsies, however, may be still more striking, because +these seem, in their wanderings over the earth, to have gradually +divested themselves of every other common attribute except that of +race. Unlike the Jews and Arabs, they not only adopt the language, but +also the religion, of the country where they happen to be. Yet they +always remain unfused and unassimilated. + +The Gypsies first appeared in Europe in 1417, in Moldavia, and thence +spread into Transylvania and Hungary.[32] They afterward passed into +all the countries of Europe, where their number, at the present time, +is supposed to reach 700,000 or 800,000. Everywhere they adopt the +common form of worship, but are without any real faith. Partially +civilized in some countries, they always retain their own language +beside that of the people among whom they live. This language, being +evidently derived from the Sanskrit, settles the question of their +origin. It is common to all their branches through the world; as +are also the sweet voice of their maidens, and their habits of +horse-dealing, fortune-telling, and petty larceny. Without the bond +of religion, history, government, literature, or mutual knowledge and +intercourse, they still remain one and the same people in all their +dispersions. What gives this unity and permanence, if not race? Yet +race, to Mr. Buckle, means nothing. + +III. _Mr. Buckle's Theory concerning Skepticism._--One of the laws of +history which Mr. Buckle considers himself to have established, if not +discovered, is that a spirit of skepticism precedes necessarily the +progress of knowledge, and therefore of civilization. By skepticism he +means a doubt of the truth of received opinions. He asserts that "a +spirit of doubt" is the necessary antecedent to "the love of inquiry." +(Vol. I. p. 242, Am. ed.) "Doubt must intervene before investigation +can begin. Here, then, we have the act of doubting as the originator, +or at all events the necessary antecedent, of all progress." + +If this were so, progress would be impossible. For the great groundwork +of knowledge for each generation must be laid in the minds of children; +and children learn, not by doubting, but by believing. Children +are actuated at the same time by an insatiable curiosity and an +unquestioning faith. They ask the reason of everything, and they accept +every reason which is given them. If they stopped to question and to +doubt, they would learn very little. But by not doubting at all, while +they are made to believe some errors, they acquire an immense amount of +information. Kind Mother Nature understands the process of learning and +the principle of progress much better than Mr. Buckle, and fortunately +supplies every new generation of children with an ardent desire for +knowledge, and a disposition to believe everything they hear. + +Perhaps, however, Mr. Buckle refers to men rather than children. He +may not insist on children's stopping to question everything they hear +before they believe. But in men perhaps this spirit is essential to +progress. What great skeptics, then, have been also great discoverers? +Which was the greatest discoverer, Leibnitz or Bayle, Sir Isaac Newton +or Voltaire? A faith amounting nearly to credulity is almost essential +to discovery,--a faith which foresees what it cannot prove, which +follows suggestions and hints, and so traces the faintest impressions +left by the flying footsteps of truth. The attitude of the intellect in +all discovery is not that of doubt, but of faith. The discoverer always +appears to critical and skeptical men as a visionary. + +"To skepticism," says Mr. Buckle, "we owe the spirit of inquiry, +which, during the last two centuries, has gradually encroached on +every possible subject, and reformed every department of practical +and speculative knowledge." But this is plainly what logicians call +a {hysteron proteron}, or what common people call "putting the cart +before the horse." It is not skepticism which produces the spirit of +inquiry, but the spirit of inquiry which produces skepticism. It was +not a doubt concerning the Mosaic cosmogony which led to the study +of geology; the study of geology led to the doubt of the cosmogony. +Skepticism concerning the authority of the Church did not lead to the +discovery of the Copernican system; the discovery of the Copernican +system led to doubts concerning the authority of the Church which +denied it. People do not begin by doubting, but by seeking. The love of +knowledge leads them to inquire, and inquiry shows to them new truths. +The new truths, being found to be opposed to received opinions, cause +a doubt concerning those opinions to arise in the mind. Skepticism, +therefore, may easily follow, but does not precede inquiry. + +Skepticism, being a negative principle, is necessarily unproductive +and barren. To have no strong belief, no fixed opinion, no vital +conviction for or against anything,--this is surely not a state of +intellect favorable to any great creation or discovery. Goethe, who was +certainly no bigot, says, in a volume of his posthumous works, that +skepticism is only an inverted superstition, and that this skepticism +is one of the chief evils of the present age. "It is worse," he adds, +"than superstition, for superstition is the inheritance of energetic, +heroic, progressive natures; skepticism belongs to weak, contracted, +shrinking men, who venture not out of themselves." Lord Bacon says +("Advancement of Learning," Book II.) that doubts have their advantages +in learning, of which he mentions two, but says that "both these +commodities do scarcely countervail an inconvenience which will intrude +itself, if it be not debarred; which is, that when a doubt is once +received, men labor rather how to keep it a doubt than how to solve +it." It will be seen, therefore, that Lord Bacon gives to skepticism +scarcely more encouragement than is given it by Goethe. + +Mr. Buckle says (Vol. I. p. 250) that "Skepticism, which in physics +must always be the beginning of science, in religion must always be +the beginning of toleration." We have seen that in physics skepticism +is rather the end of science than its beginning, and the same is true +of toleration. Skepticism does not necessarily produce toleration. The +Roman augurs, who laughed in each other's faces, were quite ready to +assist at the spectacle of Christians thrown to the lions. Skeptics, +not having any inward conviction as a support, rest on established +opinions, and are angry at seeing them disturbed. A strong belief is +sufficient for itself, but a half-belief wishes to put down all doubts +by force. This is well expressed by Thomas Burnet (Epistola 2, De Arch. +Phil.): "Non potui non in illam semper propendere opinionem, Neminem +irasci in veritate defendenda, qui eandem plene possidet, viditque +in claro lumine. Evidens enim, et indubitata ratio, sibi sufficit +et acquiescit: aliisque a scopo oberrantibus, non tam succenset, +quam miseretur. Sed cum argumentorum adversantium aculeos sentimus, +et quodammodo periclitari causam nostram, tum demum stuamus, et +effervescimus." + +The least firm believers have often been the most violent persecutors. +Nero persecuted the Christians; Marcus Antoninus persecuted them; +but neither Nero nor Antoninus had any religious reason for this +persecution. Antoninus, the best head of his time, was a sufficient +skeptic to suit Mr. Buckle, as regards all points of the established +religion, but his skepticism did not prevent him from being a +persecutor. Unbelieving Popes, like Alexander VI. and Leo X., have +persecuted. True toleration is not born of unbelief, as Mr. Buckle +supposes, but of a deeper faith. Religious liberty has not been given +to the world by skeptics, but by such men as Milton, Baxter, Jeremy +Taylor, and Roger Williams. + +So far from general skepticism being the antecedent condition of +intellectual progress and discovery, it is a sign of approaching +intellectual stagnation and decay. A great religious movement usually +precedes and prepares the way for a great mental development. Thus the +religious activity born of Protestantism showed its results in England +in the age of Elizabeth, and in a general outbreak of intellectual +activity over all Europe. On the other hand, the skepticism of the +eighteenth century was accompanied by comparative stagnation of thought +throughout Christendom. + +IV. _Mr. Buckle's View of the small Influence of Religion on +Civilization._--Mr. Buckle thinks it is erroneous to suppose that +religion is one of the prime movers of human affairs. (Vol. I. p. 183.) +Religion, according to him, has little to do with human progress. +In this opinion, he differs from nearly all other great historians +and philosophical thinkers. In modern times, Hegel, Niebuhr, Guizot, +Arnold, and Macaulay, among others, have discussed the part taken by +religious ideas in the development of man, laying the greatest stress +on this element. But Mr. Buckle denies that religion is one of the +prime movers in human affairs. The Crusades have been thought to have +exercised some influence on European civilization. But religion was +certainly the prime mover of the Crusades. Mohammedanism exercised +some influence on the development of European life. But Mohammedanism +was an embodiment of religious ideas. The Protestant Reformation +shook every institution, every nation, every part of social life, in +Christendom, and Europe rocked to its foundations under the influence +of this great movement. But religion was the prime mover of it all. +The English Revolution turned on religious ideas. The rise of the +Dutch Republic was determined by them. In one form they colonized South +America and Mexico; in another form, they planted New England. Such +great constructive minds as those of Alfred and Charlemagne have been +benevolently inspired by rational religion; such dark, destructive +natures as those of Philip II. of Spain, Catharine de Medicis of +France, and Mary Tudor of England have been malevolently inspired by +fanatical religion. + +On what grounds, then, does Mr. Buckle dispute the influence of +religion? On two grounds mainly. First, he tells us that moral ideas +are not susceptible of progress, and therefore cannot have exercised +any perceptible influence on the progress of civilization. For that +which does not change, he argues, cannot influence that which changes. +That which has been known for thousands of years cannot be the cause +of an event which took place for the first time only yesterday. "Since +civilization is the product of moral and intellectual agencies," +says Mr. Buckle, "and since that product is constantly changing, it +cannot be regulated by the stationary agent; because when surrounding +circumstances are unchanged, a stationary agent can produce only a +stationary effect." On this principle, gravitation could not be the +cause of the appearance of Donati's comet in the neighborhood of the +sun. For gravitation is a stationary and uniform agent; it cannot +therefore produce an accelerated motion. Mr. Buckle will answer, that +though the law of gravitation is one and the same in all ages, and +uniform in its action, the result of its action may be different at +different times, according to the position in the universe of the +object acted upon. True; and in like manner we may say, that, though +religious ideas are immutable, the result of their action on the +human mind may be different, according to the position of that mind +in relation to them. The doctrine of one God, the Maker and Lord of +all things, was not a new one, or one newly discovered in the seventh +century. Yet when applied by Mohammed to the Arabian mind, it was like +a spark coming in contact with gunpowder. Those wandering sons of the +desert, unknown before in the affairs of the world, and a negative +quantity in human history, sprang up a terrible power, capable of +overrunning and conquering half the earth. Religion awakened them; +religion organized them; religion directed them. The fact that an idea +is an old one is no proof, therefore, that it may not suddenly begin to +act with awful efficiency on civilization and the destiny of man. + +The other reason given by Mr. Buckle why religious ideas have little +influence in history is, that the religion of a nation is symptomatic +of its mental and moral state. Men take the religious ideas which +suit them. A religion not suited to a people cannot be accepted by +it; or, if accepted, has no influence on it. This thought, argued at +considerable length by Mr. Buckle, is so perfectly true as to be a +truism. The religion of a people is no doubt an effect. But may it +not also be a cause? It, no doubt, cannot be received by a people +not prepared for it. But does it therefore exercise no influence on +a people which it finds prepared? Fire cannot explode an unexplosive +material, nor inflame one not inflammable. But does it follow that it +effects nothing when brought into contact with one which is inflammable +or explosive? A burning coal laid on a rock or put into the water +produces no effect. But does this prove that the explosion of gunpowder +is in no manner due to the contact of fire? + +"The religion of mankind," says Mr. Buckle, "is the effect of their +improvement, and not the cause of it." His proof is that missions and +missionaries among the heathen produce only a superficial change among +barbarous and unenlightened tribes. Knowledge, he says, must prepare +the way for it. There must, no doubt, be some kind of preparation for +Christianity. But does it follow that Christianity, when its way is +prepared, is _only_ an effect? Why may it not be also a cause? Judaism +prepared the way for Christianity. But did not Christianity produce +some effect on Judaism? The Arab mind was prepared for Mohammedanism. +But did not Mohammedanism produce some effect on the Arab mind? Europe +was prepared by various influences for Protestantism. But did not +Protestantism produce some effects on Europe? + +It might, with equal truth, and perhaps with greater truth, be asserted +that intellectual ideas are the result of previous training, and that +they are therefore an effect, and by no means a cause. The intellectual +truths accepted by any period depend certainly on the advanced +condition of human culture. You cannot teach logarithms to Hottentots, +trigonometry to Digger Indians, or the differential calculus to the +Feejee Islanders. Hence, according to our author's logic, those very +intellectual ideas which he thinks the only great movers in human +affairs are really no movers at all, but only symptoms of the actual +intellectual condition of a nation. + +But it is a curious fact, that, while Mr. Buckle considers religious +ideas of so little importance in the history of civilization, he +nevertheless devotes a large part of both his volumes to proving +the great evil done to civilization by erroneous forms of religious +opinion. Nearly the whole of his second volume is in fact given to +showing the harm done in Spain and Scotland by false systems of +religious thought. Why spend page after page in showing the evil +influence of false religion on society, if religion, whether true or +false, has scarcely any influence at all? Why search through all +the records of religious fanaticism and superstition, to bring up to +the day the ghosts of dead beliefs, if these beliefs are, after all, +powerless either for good or evil? + + * * * * * + +The second volume, the recent publication of which has suggested this +second review of Mr. Buckle's work, contains much of interest and +value, but suffers from the imperfect method of which we complained at +the beginning of this article. It is chiefly devoted to a description +of the evils resulting from priestcraft in the two countries of Spain +and Scotland. It contains six chapters. The first is on the History of +the Spanish Intellect from the fifth to the middle of the nineteenth +century. The other five chapters relate to Scotland. + +In the chapter on Spain Buckle attempts to show how loyalty and +superstition began in this nation, and what has been the result. Of +course, according to his theory, he is obliged to trace their origin to +external circumstances, and he finds the cause of the superstition in +the climate, which produced drought and famine, and in the earthquakes +which alarmed the people. And here Mr. Buckle, following the philosophy +of Lucretius, confounds religion and fear, and puts the occasion for +the cause. But, beside earthquakes, the Arian heresy helped to create +this superstition, by identifying the wars for national independence +with those for religion, and so giving a great ascendency to the +priests. Hence the Church in Spain early acquired great power, and, +naturally allying itself with the government, gave rise to the +sentiment of loyalty, which was increased by the Moorish invasion and +the long wars which followed. Loyalty and superstition thus became so +deeply rooted in the Spanish mind, that they could not be eradicated +by the efforts of the government. Nothing but knowledge can cure this +blind and servile loyalty and this abject superstition, and while Spain +continues sunk in ignorance it must always remain superstitious and +submissive. + +Some difficulties, however, suggest themselves in the way of this very +simple explanation. If superstitious loyalty to Church and king comes +from earthquakes, why are not the earthquake regions of the West Indies +and of South America more loyal, instead of being in a state of chronic +revolution? And how came Scotland to be so diseased with loyalty and +superstition, when she is so free from earthquakes? And if knowledge is +such a certain cure for superstition, why was not Spain cured by the +flood of light which she, alone of all European countries, enjoyed in +the Middle Ages? Spain was for a long time the source of science and +art to all Europe, whose Christian sons resorted to her universities +and libraries for instruction. There was taught to English, French, +and German students the philosophy of Aristotle, the Grco-Arabic +literature, mathematics, and natural history. The numerals, gunpowder, +paper, and other inventions of the Arabs, passed into Europe from +Spain. She possessed, therefore, that knowledge of physical laws which +Mr. Buckle declares to be the only cure for superstition. Yet she was +not cured. The nation which, according to his theory, ought to have +been soonest delivered from superstition, according to his statements +has retained its yoke longer than any other. + +From Spain Mr. Buckle passes to Scotland, where he finds a still more +complicated problem. Superstition and loyalty ought to go together, he +thinks,--and usually do; but in Scotland they are divorced. The Scotch +have always been superstitious, but disloyal. To the explanation of +this fact Mr. Buckle bends his energies of thought, and of course is +able to find a theory to account for it. This theory we shall not stop +to detail; it is too complex, and at the same time too superficial, +to dwell upon. Its chief point is that the Protestant noblemen and +Protestant clergy quarreled about the wealth of the Catholic Church, +and so there was in Scotland a complete rupture between the two classes +elsewhere in alliance. Thus "the clergy, finding themselves despised +by the governing class, united themselves heartily with the people, +and advocated democratic principles." Such is the explanation given +to the course of history in a great nation. A quarrel between its +noblemen and its ministers (who are of course represented as mercenary +self-seekers) determines its permanent character! + +Mr. Buckle, to whom the love of plunder appears as the cause of what +other men regard as loyalty or religion, explains by the same fact the +loyalty of the Highlanders to King Charles. They thought that, if he +conquered, he would allow them to plunder the Lowlanders once more. +This is Buckle's explanation. An ethnologist would have remembered the +fact that the Gaels are pure-blooded Kelts, and that the Kelts _pur +sang_ are everywhere distinguished for loyalty to their chiefs. + +Mr. Buckle encounters another difficulty in Scottish history in this, +that though a new and splendid literature arose in Scotland at the +beginning of the eighteenth century, it was unable to diminish national +superstition. It was thoroughly skeptical, and yet did not produce the +appropriate effect of skepticism. So that at this point one of Mr. +Buckle's four great laws of history seems to break down. For a moment +he appears discouraged, and laments, with real pathos, the limitations +of the human intellect. But in the next chapter he addresses himself +again to the solution of his two-fold problem, viz.: "1st, that the +same people should be liberal in their politics and illiberal in their +religion; and, 2d, that their free and skeptical literature in the +eighteenth century should have been unable to lessen their religious +illiberality." + +In approaching this part of his task, in the fifth chapter, our +author gives a very elaborate and highly colored picture of the +religion of Scotland. It is _too_ well done. Like some of Macaulay's +descriptions, it is so very striking as to impress us almost inevitably +as a caricature. Every statement in which the horrors and cruelties +of Calvinism are described is indeed reinforced by ample citations +or plentiful references in the footnotes. But some of these seem +capable of a different inference from that drawn in the text. For +instance, he charges the Scottish clergy with teaching, that, though +the arrangements originally made by the Deity to punish his creatures +were ample, "they were insufficient; and hell, not being big enough +to contain the countless victims incessantly poured into it, had in +these latter days been enlarged. There was now sufficient room." He +supports the charge by this reference to Abernethy,--"Hell has enlarged +itself,"--apparently not being aware that Abernethy was merely quoting +from Isaiah. He says that to write poetry was considered by the Scotch +clergy to be a grievous offence, and worthy of special condemnation. +He supports his statement by this reference: "A mastership in a +grammar school was offered in 1767 to John Wilson, the author of +'Clyde'" (a poet, by the by, not found among the twenty John Wilsons +commemorated by Watt). "But, says his biographer, the magistrates and +ministers of Greenock thought fit, before they would admit Mr. Wilson +to the superintendence of the grammar school, to stipulate that he +should abandon 'the profane and unprofitable art of poem-making.'" +This fact, however, by no means proves that poetry was considered, +theologically, a sin, for perhaps it was regarded practically as only a +disqualification. It is to be feared that many of our school committees +now--country shopkeepers, perhaps, or city aldermen--would, apart from +Calvinism, think that a poet must be necessarily a dreamer and an +unpractical man. + +A few exaggerations of this kind there may be. But, on the whole, the +account seems to be correctly given; and it is one which will do good. + +In the remaining portion of the second volume Mr. Buckle gives a very +vigorous description of the intellectual progress of the Scotch during +the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. His account of Adam Smith +as a writer is peculiarly brilliant. His views of Hume and Reid are +ably drawn. Thence he proceeds to discuss the discoveries of Black +and Leslie in natural philosophy, of Smith and Hutton in geology, +of Cavendish in chemistry, of Cullen and Hunter in physiology and +pathology. These discussions are interesting, and show a great range of +knowledge and power of study in the writer. Yet they are episodes, and +have little bearing on the main course of his thought. + +We have thus given a cursory survey of these volumes. We do not think +Buckle's philosophy sound, his method good, or his doctrines tenable. +Yet we cannot but sympathize with one who has devoted his strength and +youth with such untiring industry to such a great enterprise. And we +must needs be touched with the plaintive confession which breaks from +his wearied mind and exhausted hope in the last volume, when he accepts +the defeat of his early endeavor, and submits to the disappointment of +his youthful hope. We should be glad to quote the entire passage,[33] +because it is the best in the book, and because he expresses in it, in +the most condensed form, his ideas and purposes as an historic writer. +But our limited space allows us only to commend it to the special +attention of the reader. + + + + +VOLTAIRE[34] + + +Mr. Parton has given us in these volumes[35] another of his interesting +and instructive biographies. Not as interesting, indeed, as some +others,--for example, as his life of Andrew Jackson; nor as instructive +as his lives of Franklin and of Jefferson. The nature of the case made +this impossible. The story of Jackson had never been told till Mr. +Parton undertook it. It was a history of frontier life, of strange +adventures, of desperate courage, of a force of character which +conquered all obstacles and achieved extraordinary results; a story + + "Of moving accidents by flood and field, + Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach, + Of being taken by the insolent foe." + +No such interest attaches to the "Life of Voltaire." His most serious +adventure was being shut up in the Bastille for a pasquinade, and +being set free again on his solemn protestation, true or false, +that he never wrote it. It is an old story, told a thousand times, +with all its gloss, if it ever had any, quite worn off. The "Life +of Franklin," which, on the whole, we think the best of Parton's +biographies, was full of interest and instruction of another kind. +It was the life of a builder,--of one who gave his great powers to +construction, to building up new institutions and new sciences, to the +discovery of knowledge and the creation of national life. Voltaire was +a diffuser of knowledge already found, but he had not the patience +nor the devotion of a discoverer. His gift was not to construct good +institutions, but to destroy bad ones,--a work the interest of which is +necessarily ephemeral. No wonder, therefore, that Mr. Parton, with all +his practiced skill as a biographer, has not been able to give to the +story of Voltaire the thrilling interest which he imparted to that of +Franklin and of Jackson. + +We gladly take the present opportunity to add our recognition of Mr. +Parton's services to those which have come to him from other quarters. +A writer of unequal merit, and one whose judgment is often biased by +his prejudices, he nevertheless has done much to show how biography +should be written. Of all forms of human writing there is none which +ought to be at once so instructive and so interesting as this, but in +the large majority of instances it is the most vapid and empty. The +good biographies, in all languages, are so few that they can almost be +counted on the fingers; but these are among the most precious books in +the literature of mankind. The story of Ruth, the Odyssey of Homer, +Plutarch's lives, the Memorabilia of Xenophon, the life of Agricola, +the Confessions of Augustine, among the ancients; and, in modern times, +Boswell's "Johnson," the autobiographies of Alfieri, Benvenuto Cellini, +Franklin, Goethe, Voltaire's "Charles XII.," and Southey's "Life of +Wesley" are specimens of what may be accomplished in this direction. It +has been thought that any man can write a biography, but it requires +genius to understand genius. How much intelligence is necessary to +collect with discrimination the significant facts of a human life; to +penetrate to the law of which they are the expression; to give the +picturesque proportions to every part, to arrange the foreground, the +middle distance, and the background of the panorama; to bring out +in proper light and shadow the features and deeds of the hero! Few +biographers take this trouble. They content themselves with collecting +the letters written by and to their subject; sweeping together the +facts of his life, important or otherwise; arranging them in some kind +of chronological order; and then having this printed and bound up in +one or two heavy volumes. + +To all this many writers of biography add another fault, which is +almost a fatal one. They treat their subject _de haut en bas_, +preferring to look down upon him rather than to look up to him. They +occupy themselves in criticising his faults and pointing out his +deficiencies, till they forget to mention what he has accomplished to +make him worthy of having his life written at all. We lately saw a +life of Pope treated in this style. One unacquainted with Pope, after +reading it, would say, "If he was such a contemptible fellow, and his +writings so insignificant, why should we have to read his biography?" +Thomas Carlyle has the great merit of leading the way in the opposite +direction, and of thus initiating a new style of biography. The old +method was for the writer to regard himself as a judge on the bench, +and the subject of his biography as a prisoner at the bar. Carlyle, +in his "Life of Schiller," showed himself a loving disciple, sitting +at the feet of his master. We recollect that when this work first +appeared there were only a few copies known to be in this country. +One was in the possession of an eminent professor in Harvard College, +of whom the present writer borrowed it. On returning it, he was asked +what he thought of it, and replied that he considered it written with +much enthusiasm. "Yes," responded the professor, "I myself thought it +rather extravagant." Enthusiasm in a biographer was then considered +to be the same as extravagance. But this hero-worship, which is the +charm in Plutarch, Xenophon, and Boswell, inspired a like interest in +Carlyle's portraits of Schiller, Goethe, Richter, Burns, and the actors +in the French Revolution. So true is his own warning: "Friend, if you +wish me to take an interest in what you say, be so kind as to take some +interest in it yourself"--a golden maxim, to be kept in mind by all +historians, writers of travels, biographers, preachers, and teachers. +A social success may sometimes be accomplished by assuming the _blas_ +air of the Roman emperor who said, "Omnia fui, nihil expedit;" but this +tone is ruinous for one who wishes the ear of the public. + +Since the days of Carlyle, others have written in the same spirit, +allowing themselves to take more or less interest in the man whose life +they were relating. So Macaulay, in his sketches of Clive, Hastings, +Chatham, Pym, and Hampden; so Lewes, in his "Life of Goethe;" and so +Parton, in his various biographies. + +In some respects Mr. Parton's biography reminds us of Macaulay's +History. Both have been credited with the same qualities, both charged +with the same defects. Both are indefatigable in collecting material +from all quarters,--from other histories and biographies, memoirs, +letters, newspapers, broadsides, and personal communications gathered +in many out-of-the-way localities. Both have the power of discarding +insignificant details and retaining what is suggestive and picturesque. +Both, therefore, have the same supreme merit of being interesting. +Both have strong prejudices, take sides earnestly, forget that they +are narrators, and begin to plead as attorneys and advocates. Both +have been accused, rightly or wrongly, of grave inaccuracies. But their +defects will not prevent them from holding their place as teachers of +the English-speaking public. English and American readers will long +continue to think of Marlborough as Macaulay represents him; of Jackson +and Jefferson as Parton describes them. Such Rembrandt-like portraits +fix the attention by their strange chiaro-oscuro. They may not be like +nature, but they take the place of nature. The most remarkable instance +of this kind is the representation of Tiberius by Tacitus, which has +caused mankind, until very recently, to consider Tiberius a monster +of licentiousness and cruelty, in spite of the almost self-evident +absurdity and self-contradiction of this assumption.[36] Limners with +such a terrible power of portraiture should be very careful how they +use it, and not abuse the faculty in the interest of their prejudices. + +If Mr. Parton resembles Macaulay in some respects, in one point, at +least, he is like Carlyle: that is, that his last hero is the least +interesting. From Schiller and Goethe to Frederic the Great was a fall; +and so from Franklin to Voltaire. Carlyle tells us what a weary task +he had with his Prussian king, and we think that Mr. Parton's labors +over the patriarch of the eighteenth-century literature must have been +equally distressing. At a distance, Voltaire is a striking phenomenon: +the most brilliant wit of almost any period; the most prolific +writer; a successful dramatist, historian, biographer, story-teller, +controversialist, lyrical poet, student of science. "Truly, a universal +genius, a mighty power!" we say. But look more closely, and this genius +turns into talent; this encyclopdic knowledge becomes only superficial +half knowledge; this royalty is a sham royalty; it does not lead the +world, but follows it. The work into which Voltaire put his heart was +destruction--the destruction of falsehoods, bigotries, cruelties, and +shams. It was an important duty, and some one had to do it. But it was +temporary, and one of which the interest is soon over. If Luther and +the other reformers had aimed at only destroying the Church of Rome, +their influence would have speedily ceased. But they rebuilt, as they +destroyed; the sword in one hand, and the trowel in the other. They +destroyed in order to build; they took away the outgrown house, to put +another in its place. Voltaire did not go so far as that; he wanted no +new church in the place of the old one. + +Voltaire and Rousseau are often spoken of as though they were +fellow-workers, and are associated in many minds as sharing the same +convictions. Nothing can be more untrue. They were radically opposite +in the very structure of their minds, and their followers and admirers +are equally different. If all men can be divided into Platonists +and Aristotelians, they may be in like manner classified as those +who prefer Voltaire to Rousseau, and _vice versa_. Both were indeed +theists, and both opposed to the popular religion of their time. Both +were brilliant writers, masters of the French language, listened to +by the people, and with a vast popularity. Both were more or less +persecuted for their religious heresies. So far they resemble each +other. But these are only external resemblances; radically and inwardly +they were polar opposites. What attracted one repelled the other. +Voltaire was a man of the world, fond of society and social pleasures; +the child of his time, popular, a universal favorite. Rousseau shrank +from society, hated its fashions, did not enjoy its pleasures, and +belonged to another epoch than the eighteenth century. Rousseau +believed in human nature, and thought that if we could return to our +natural condition the miseries of life would cease. Voltaire despised +human nature; he forever repeated that the majority of men were knaves +and fools. Rousseau distrusted education and culture as they are +commonly understood; but to Voltaire's mind they were the only matters +of any value,--all that made life worth living. Rousseau was more like +Pascal than like Voltaire; far below Pascal, no doubt, in fixed moral +principles and ascetic virtue. Yet he resembled him in his devotion +to ideas, his enthusiasm for some better day to come. Both were out of +place in their own time; both were prophets crying in the wilderness. +Put Voltaire between Pascal and Rousseau, and it would be something +like the tableau of Goethe between Basedow and Lavater. + + "Prophete rechts, Propliete links, + Das Weltkind in der Mitte." + +The difference between Voltaire and Rousseau was really that between a +man of talent and a man of genius. Voltaire, brilliant, adroit, full of +resource, quick as a flash, versatile, with immense powers of working, +with a life full of literary successes, has not left behind him a +single masterpiece. He comes in everywhere second best. As a tragedian +he is inferior to Racine; as a wit and comic writer far below Molire; +and he is quite surpassed as a historian and biographer by many modern +French authors. No germinating ideas are to be found in his writings, +no seed corn for future harvests. He thought himself a philosopher, +and was so regarded by others; but neither had his philosophy any +roots to it. A sufficient proof of this is the fact that he shared the +superficial optimism of the English deists, as expressed by Bolingbroke +and Pope, until the Lisbon earthquake, by destroying thirty thousand +people, changed his whole mental attitude. Till then he could say with +Pope, "Whatever is, is right." After that, most things which are, +appeared to him fatally and hopelessly wrong. That thirty thousand +persons should perish in a few minutes, in great suffering, he thought +inconsistent with the goodness of God. But take the whole world over, +thirty thousand people are continually perishing, in the course of a +few hours or days. What difference does it make, in a philosophical +point of view, if they die all at once in a particular place, or at +longer intervals in many places? Voltaire asks, "What crime had those +infants committed who lie crushed on their mother's breasts?" What +crime, we reply, have the infants committed who have been dying by +millions, in suffering, since the world began? "Was Lisbon," he asks, +"more wicked than Paris?" But had Voltaire never noticed before that +wicked people often live on in health and pleasure, while the good +suffer and die? Voltaire did not see, what it requires very little +philosophy to discover, that a Lisbon earthquake really presents no +more difficulty to the reason than the suffering and death of a single +child. + +Another fact which shows the shallow nature of Voltaire's way of +thinking is his expectation of destroying Christianity by a combined +attack upon it of all the wits and philosophers. Mr. Parton tells us +that "l'Infme," which Voltaire expected to crush, "was not religion, +nor the Christian religion, nor the Roman Catholic Church. It was," +he says, "_religion claiming supernatural authority, and enforcing +that claim by pains and penalties_." No doubt it was the spirit +of intolerance and persecution which excited his indignation. But +the object of that indignation was not the abstraction which Mr. +Parton presents to us. It was something far more concrete. There is +no doubt that Voltaire confounded Christianity with the churches +about him, and these with their abuses; and thus his object was to +sweep away all positive religious institutions, and to leave in +their place a philosophic deism. Else what meaning in his famous +boast that "it required twelve men to found a belief, which it would +need only one man to destroy"? What meaning, otherwise, in his +astonishment that Locke, "having in one book so profoundly traced +the development of the understanding, could so degrade his own +understanding in another"?--referring, as Mr. Morley believes, to +Locke's "Reasonableness of Christianity." Voltaire saw around him +Christianity represented by cruel bigots, ecclesiastics living in +indolent luxury, narrow-minded and hard-hearted priests. That was all +the Christianity he saw with his sharp perceptive faculty; and he +had no power of penetrating into the deeper life of the soul which +these corruptions misrepresented. We do not blame him for this; he +was made so; but it was a fatal defect in a reformer. The first work +of a reformer is to discover the truth and the good latent amid the +abuses he wishes to reform, and for the sake of which men endure the +evil. A Buddhist proverb says, "The human mind is like a leech: it +never lets go with its tail till it has taken hold somewhere else with +its head." Distinguish the good in a system from the evil; show how +the good can be preserved, though the evil is abandoned, and then you +may hope to effect a truly radical reform. Radicalism means going to +the roots of anything. Voltaire was incapable of becoming a radical +reformer of the Christian Church, because he had in himself no faculty +by which he could appreciate the central forces of Christianity. Mr. +Morley says that Voltaire "has said no word, nor even shown an indirect +appreciation of any word said by another, which stirs and expands that +indefinite exaltation known as the love of God," "or of the larger word +holiness." "Through the affronts which his reason received from certain +pretensions, both in the writers and in some of those whose actions +they commemorated, this sublime trait in the Bible, in both portions +of it, was unhappily lost to Voltaire. He had no ear for the finer +vibrations of the spiritual voice." And so also speaks Carlyle: "It is +a much more serious ground of offense that he intermeddled in religion +without being himself, in any measure, religious; that he entered the +temple and continued there with a levity which, in any temple where +men worship, can beseem no brother man; that, in a word, he ardently, +and with long-continued effort, warred against Christianity, without +understanding beyond the mere superficies of what Christianity was." +In fact, in the organization of Voltaire, the organ of reverence, "the +crown of the whole moral nature," seems to have been at its minimum. A +sense of justice there was; an ardent sympathy with the oppressed, a +generous hatred of the oppressor, a ready devotion of time, thought, +wealth, to the relief of the down-trodden victim. Therefore, with +such qualities, Voltaire, by the additional help of his indefatigable +energy, often succeeded in plucking the prey from the jaws of the lion. +He was able to defeat the combined powers of Church and State in his +advocacy of some individual sufferer, in his battle against some single +wrong. But his long war against the Catholic Church in France left it +just where it was when that war began. Its power to-day in France is +greater than it was then, because it is a purer and better institution +than it was then. That Sphinx still sits by the roadside propounding +its riddle. Voltaire was not the OEdipus who could solve it, and so the +life of that mystery remains untouched until now. + +The Henriade has often been considered the great epic poem of France. +This merely means that France has never produced a great epic poem. The +Henriade is artificial, prosaic, and has no particle of the glow, the +fire, the prolonged enthusiasm, which alone can give an epic poem to +mankind. In this sentence all competent critics are agreed. + +Voltaire was busy with literature during his whole life. He not +only wrote continually himself, but he was a critic of the writings +of others. His mind was essentially critical,--formed to analyze, +discriminate sharply, compare, and judge by some universal standard +of taste. Here, if anywhere, he ought to be at his best; here, if in +any department, he should stand at the head of the world's board of +literary censors. But here, again, he is not even second-rate; here, +more than elsewhere, he shows how superficial are his judgments. He +tests every writer by the French standard in the eighteenth century. +Every word which Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, have said of other +writers is full of value and interest to-day. But who would go to +Voltaire for light on any book or author? We have an instinctive but +certain conviction that all his views are limited by his immediate +environment, perverted by his personal prejudices. Thus, he prefers +Ariosto to the Odyssey, and Tasso's Jerusalem to the Iliad.[37] His +inability to comprehend the greatness of Shakespeare is well known. +He is filled with indignation because a French critic had called +Shakespeare "the god of the stage." "The blood boils in my old veins," +says he; "and what is frightful to think of, it was I myself who first +showed to Frenchmen the few pearls to be found in the dunghill."[38] +Chesterfield's Letters to his Son he considers "the best book upon +education ever written."[39] This is the book in which a father teaches +his son the art of polite falsehood, of which Dr. Johnson says that "it +shows how grace can be united with wickedness,"--the book whose author +is called by De Vere the philosopher of flattery and dissimulation. He +admitted that there were some good things in Milton, but speaks of his +conceptions as "odd and extravagant."[40] He thought Condorcet much +superior to Pascal. The verses of Helvetius he believed better than +any but those of Racine. The era was what Villemain calls "the golden +age of mediocre writers;" and Voltaire habitually praised them all. +But these writers mostly belonged to a mutual admiration society. The +anatomist Tissot, in one of his physiological works, says that the +genius of Diderot came to show to mankind how every variety of talent +could be brought to perfection in one man. Diderot, in his turn, went +into frantic delight over the novels of Richardson. "Since I have read +these works," he says, "I make them my touchstone; those who do not +admire them are self-condemned. O my friends, what majestic dramas +are these three, Clarissa, Sir Charles Grandison, and Pamela!" Such +was the eighteenth century; and Voltaire belonged to it with all the +intensity of his ardent nature. He may be said never to have seen or +foreseen anything better. Living on the very verge of a great social +revolution, he does not appear to have suspected what its nature would +be, even if he suspected its approach. The cruelties of the Church +exasperated him, but the political condition of society, the misery of +the peasants, the luxury of the nobles, the despotism of the king, left +him unmoved. He was singularly deficient in any conception of the value +of political liberty or of free institutions. If he had lived to see +the coming of the Revolution, it would have utterly astounded him. His +sympathies were with an enlightened aristocracy, not with the people. +In this, too, he was the man of his time, and belonged to the middle of +his century, not the end of it. He saw and lamented the evils of bad +government. He pointed out the miseries produced by war. He abhorred +and denounced the military spirit. He called on the clergy, in the +name of their religion, to join him in his righteous appeals against +this great curse of mankind. "Where," he asks, "in the five or six +thousand sermons of Massillon, are there two in which anything is said +against the scourge of war?" He rebukes the philosophers and moralists, +also, for their delinquency in this matter, and replies forcibly to +Montesquieu's argument that self-defense sometimes makes it necessary +to begin the attack on a neighboring nation. But he does not go back +to trace the evil to its root in the absence of self-government. In +a letter to the King of Prussia he says, "When I asked you to become +the deliverer of Greece, I did not mean to have you restore the +democracy. I do not love the rule of the rabble" (_gouvernement de la +canaille_). Again, writing to the same, in January, 1757, he says, +"Your majesty will confer a great benefit by destroying this infamous +superstition [Christianity]; I do not say among the _canaille_, who +do not deserve to be enlightened, and who ought to be kept down under +all yokes, but among honest people, people who think. Give white bread +to the children, but only black bread to the dogs." In 1762, writing +to the Marquis d'Argens, he says, "The Turks say that their Koran has +sometimes the face of an angel, sometimes the face of a beast. This +description suits our time. There are a few philosophers,--they have +the face of an angel; all else much resembles that of a beast." Again, +he says to Helvetius, "Consider no man your neighbor but the man who +thinks; look on all other men as wolves, foxes, and deer." "We shall +soon see," he writes to D'Alembert, "new heavens and a new earth,--I +mean for honest people; for as to the _canaille_, the stupidest heaven +and earth is all they are fit for." The real government of nations, +according to him, should be administered by absolute kings, in the +interest of freethinkers. + +It is true that after Rousseau had published his trumpet-call in +behalf of democratic rights, Voltaire began to waver. It has been +remarked that "at the very time when he expressed an increasing +ill-will against the person of the author of 'Emile,' he was +irresistibly attracted to the principal doctrines of Rousseau. He +entered, as if in spite of himself, into paths toward which his feet +were never before directed. As if to revenge himself for coming under +this salutary influence, he pursued Rousseau with blind anger."[41] He +harshly attacked the Social Contract, but accepted the sovereignty of +the people; saying that "civil government is the will of all, executed +by a single one, or by several, in virtue of the laws which all have +enacted." He, however, speedily restricted this democratic principle +by confining the right of making laws to the owners of real estate. +He declares that those who have neither house nor land ought not to +have any voice in the matter. He now began (in 1764) to look forward +to the end of monarchies, and to expect a revolution. Nevertheless, +he plainly declares, "The pretended equality of man is a pernicious +chimera. If there were not thirty laborers to one master, the earth +would not be cultivated." But in practical and humane reforms Voltaire +took the lead, and did good work. He opposed examination by torture, +the punishment of death for theft, the confiscation of the property of +the condemned, the penalties against heretics; secret trials; praised +trial by jury, civil marriage, right of divorce, and reforms in the +direction of hygiene and education. + +And, above all, whatever fault may be found with Voltaire, let us never +cease to appreciate his generous efforts in behalf of the unfortunate +victims of the atrocious bigotry which then prevailed in France. It +is not necessary to dwell here on the cases of Calas, the Sirvens, La +Barre, and the Count de Lally. They are fully told by Mr. Parton, and +to his account we refer our readers. In 1762 the Protestant pastor +Rochette was hanged, by order of the Parliament of Toulouse, for +having exercised his ministry in Languedoc. At the same time three +young gentlemen, Protestants, were beheaded, for having taken arms to +defend themselves from being slaughtered by the Catholics. In 1762, the +Protestant merchant Calas, an aged and worthy citizen of Toulouse, was +tortured and broken on the wheel, on a wholly unsupported charge of +having killed his son to keep him from turning Catholic. A Protestant +girl named Sirven was, about the same time, taken from her parents, +and shut up in a convent, to compel her to change her religion. She +escaped, and perished by accident during her flight. The parents were +accused of having killed her to keep her from becoming a Catholic. They +escaped, but the wife died of exposure and want. In 1766 a crucifix +was injured by some wanton persons. The Bishop of Amiens called out +for vengeance. Two young officers, eighteen years old, were accused. +One escaped; the other, La Barre, was condemned to have his tongue +cut out, his right hand cut off, and to be burned alive. The sentence +was commuted to death by decapitation. Voltaire, seventy years old, +devoted himself with masterly ability and untiring energy to save +these victims; and when he failed in that, to show the falsehood of +the charges, and to obtain a revision of the judgments. He used all +means: personal appeals to men in power and to female favorites, +eloquence, wit, pathos in every form of writing. He called on all his +friends to aid him. He poured a flood of light into these dark places +of iniquity. His generous labors were crowned with success. He procured +a reversal of these iniquitous decisions; in some cases a restoration +of the confiscated property, and a public recognition of the innocence +of those condemned. Without knowing it, he was acting as a disciple of +Jesus. Perhaps he may have met in the other world with the great leader +of humanity, whom he never understood below, and been surprised to hear +him say, "Inasmuch as thou hast done it to the least of my little ones, +thou hast done it unto me." + +Carlyle tells us that the chief quality of Voltaire was _adroitness_. +He denies that he was really a great man, and says that in one +essential mark of greatness he was wholly wanting, that is, +earnestness. He adds that Voltaire was by birth a mocker; that this +was the irresistible bias of his disposition; that the first question +with him was always not what is true but what is false, not what is to +be loved but what is to be contemned. He was shallow without heroism, +full of pettiness, full of vanity; "not a great man, but only a great +_persifleur_." + +But certainly some other qualities than these were essential to +produce the immense influence which he exerted in his own time, and +since. Beside the extreme adroitness of which Carlyle speaks, he +had as exhaustless an energy as was ever granted to any of the sons +of men. He was never happy except when he was at work. He worked at +home, he worked when visiting, he worked in his carriage, he worked at +hotels. Amid annoyances and disturbances which would have paralyzed +the thought and pen of others, Voltaire labored on. Upon his sick bed, +in extreme debility and in old age, that untiring pen was ever in +motion, and whatever came from it interested all mankind. Besides the +innumerable books, tracts, and treatises which fill the volumes of his +collected works, there are said to be in existence fourteen thousand +of his letters, half of which have never been printed. But this was +only a part of the outcome of his terrible vitality. He was also an +enterprising and energetic man of business. He speculated in the funds, +lent money on interest, fitted out ships, bought and sold real estate, +solicited and obtained pensions. In this way he changed his patrimony +of about two hundred thousand francs to an annual income of the same +amount,--equal to at least one hundred thousand dollars a year at the +present time. He was determined to be rich, and he became so; not +because he loved money for itself, nor because he was covetous. He gave +money freely; he used it in large ways. He sought wealth as a means of +self-defense,--to protect himself against the persecution which his +attacks on the Church might bring upon him. He also had, like a great +writer of the present century, Walter Scott, the desire of being a +large landed proprietor and lord of a manor; and, like Scott, he became +one, reigning at Ferney as Scott ruled at Abbotsford. + +In defending himself against his persecutors he used other means +not so legitimate. One of his methods was systematic falsehood. He +first concealed, and then denied, the authorship of any works which +would expose him to danger. He took the tone of injured innocence. +For example, he had worked with delight, during twenty years, on his +wretched "Pucelle." To write new lines in it, or a new canto, was his +refreshment; to read them to his friends gave him the most intense +satisfaction. But when the poem found its way into print, with what +an outcry he denies the authorship, almost before he is charged with +it. He assumes the air of calumniated virtue. The charge, he declares, +is one of the infamous inventions of his enemies. He writes to the +"Journal Encyclopdique," "The crowning point of their devilish +manoeuvres is the edition of a poem called 'La Pucelle d'Orlans.' +The editor has the face to attribute this work to the author of the +'Henriade,' the 'Zare,' the 'Mrope,' the 'Alzire,' the 'Sicle de +Louis XIV.' He dares to ascribe to this author the flattest, meanest, +and most gross work which can come from the press. My pen refuses to +copy the tissue of silly and abominable obscenities of this work of +darkness." When the "Dictionnaire Philosophique" began to appear, he +wrote to D'Alembert, "As soon as any danger arises, I beg you will let +me know, that I may disavow the work in all the public papers with +my usual candor and innocence." Mr. Parton tells us that he had _a +hundred and eight_ pseudonyms. He signed his pamphlets A Benedictine, +The Archbishop of Canterbury, A Quaker, Rev. Josias Roussette, the Abb +Lilladet, the Abb Bigorre, the Pastor Bourn. He was also ready to tell +a downright lie when it suited his convenience. + +When "Candide" was printed, in 1758, he wrote, as Mr. Parton tells +us, to a friendly pastor in Geneva, "I have at length read 'Candide.' +People must have lost their senses to attribute to me that pack of +nonsense. I have, thank God, better occupation. This optimism [of +Pangloss] obviously destroys the foundation of our holy religion." Our +holy religion! + +An excuse may be found for these falsehoods. A writer, it may be said, +has a right to his incognito; if so, he has a right to protect it by +denying the authorship of a book when charged with it. This is doubtful +morality, but Voltaire went far beyond this. He volunteered his +denials. He asserted in every way, with the most solemn asseverations, +that he was not the author of a book which he had written with delight. +But this was not the worst. He not only told these author's lies, +but he was a deliberate hypocrite, professing faith in Christianity, +receiving its sacraments, asking spiritual help from the Pope, +and begging for relics from the Vatican, at the very time that he +was hoping by strenuous efforts to destroy both Catholicism and +Christianity. + +When he was endeavoring to be admitted to a place in the French +Academy, he wrote thus to the Bishop of Mirepoix:[42] "Thanks to +Heaven, my religion teaches me to know how to suffer. The God who +founded it, as soon as he deigned to become man, was of all men the +most persecuted. After such an example, it is almost a crime to +complain.... I can say, before God who hears me, that I am a good +citizen and a true Catholic.... I have written many pages sanctified by +religion." In this Mr. Parton admits that he went too far. + +When at Colmar, as a measure of self-protection, he resolved to +commune at Easter. Mr. Parton says that Voltaire had pensions and +rents to the amount of sixty thousand livres annually, of which the +king could deprive him by a stroke of the pen. So he determined to +prove himself a good Catholic by taking the sacraments. As a necessary +preliminary, he confessed to a Capuchin monk. He wrote to D'Argens +just before, "If I had a hundred thousand men, I know what I should +do; but as I have them not, I shall commune at Easter!" But, writing +to Rousseau, he thinks it shameful in Galileo to retract his opinions. +Mr. Parton too, who is disposed to excuse some of these hypocrisies +in Voltaire, is scandalized because the pastors of Geneva denied the +charges of heresy brought against them by Voltaire; saying that "we +live, as they lived, in an atmosphere of insincerity." In the midst +of all this, Voltaire took credit to himself for his frank avowals of +the truth: "I am not wrong to dare to utter what worthy men think. For +forty years I have braved the base empire of the despots of the mind." +Mr. Parton elsewhere seems to think it would have been impossible for +Voltaire to versify the Psalms; as it was "asked him to give the lie +publicly to his whole career." But if communing at Easter did not do +this, how could a versification of a few psalms accomplish it? Parton +quotes Condorcet as saying that Voltaire could not become a hypocrite, +even to be a cardinal. Could any one do a more hypocritical action +than to partake the sacraments of a Church which he despised in order +to escape the danger of persecution? + +When building his house at Ferney, the neighboring Catholic curs +interfered with him. They prohibited the laborers from working for him. +To meet this difficulty he determined to obtain the protection of the +Pope himself. So he wrote to the Pope, asking for a relic to put in the +church he had built, and received in return a piece of the hair-shirt +of St. Francis. He went to mass frequently. Meantime, in his letters +to his brother freethinkers, he added his usual postscript, "Ecrasez +l'Infme;" begging their aid in crushing Catholicism and Christianity. +Yet it does not seem that he considered himself a hypocrite in thus +conforming outwardly to a religion which he hated. He thinks that +others who do so are hypocrites, but not that he is one. In 1764 he +writes to Madame du Deffand, "The worst is that we are surrounded by +hypocrites, who worry us to make us think what they themselves do +not think at all." So singular are the self-deceptions of the human +mind. He writes to Frederic ridiculing the sacrament of extreme +unction, and then solemnly partakes of the eucharist. Certainly he +did not belong to the noble army of martyrs. He expected to overturn +a great religious system, not by the power of faith, but by ingenious +pamphlets, brilliant sarcasms, adroit deceptions. In thus thinking he +was eminently superficial. + +His theory on this subject is given in an article in the "Dictionnaire +Philosophique," quoted by Mr. Parton: "Distinguish honest people who +think, from the populace who were not made to think. If usage obliges +you to perform a ridiculous ceremony for the sake of the canaille, and +on the road you meet some people of understanding, notify them by a +sign of the head, or a look, that you think as they do.... If imbeciles +still wish to eat acorns, let them have acorns." + +Mr. Parton describes in full (vol. ii. p. 410) the ceremony of the +eucharist of which Voltaire partook in his own church at Ferney. It was +Easter Sunday, and Voltaire mounted the pulpit and preached a sermon +against theft. Hearing of this, the bishop was scandalized, and forbade +all the curates of the diocese from confessing, absolving, or giving +the sacrament to Voltaire. Upon this Voltaire writes and signs a formal +demand on the curate of Ferney to allow him to confess and commune +in the Catholic Church, in which he was born, has lived, and wishes +to die; offering to make all necessary declarations, all requisite +protestations, in public or private, submitting himself absolutely +to all the rules of the Church, for the edification of Catholics and +Protestants. All this was a mere piece of mystification and fun. He +pretended to be too sick to go to the church, and made a Capuchin come +and administer the eucharist to him in bed; Voltaire saying, "Having +my God in my mouth, I declare that I forgive all my enemies." No +wonder that with all his marvelous ability and his long war upon the +Catholic Church he was unable to make any lasting impression upon it. +Talent is not enough to make revolutions of opinion. No serious faith +was ever destroyed by a jest. + +If we return to Rousseau, and compare his influence with that of +Voltaire, we shall find that it went far deeper. Voltaire was a man of +immense talent. Talent originates nothing, but formulates into masterly +expression what has come to it from the age in which it lives. Not +a new idea can be found, we believe, in all Voltaire's innumerable +writings. But genius has a vision of ideal truth. It is a prophet of +the future. Rousseau, with his many faults, weaknesses, follies, was +a man of genius. He was probably the most eloquent writer of French +prose who has ever appeared. He was a man possessed by his ideas. He +had none of the adroitness, wit, ingenuity, of Voltaire. Instead of +amassing an enormous fortune, he supported himself by copying music. +Instead of being surrounded by admirers and flatterers, he led a +solitary life, alone with his ideas. Instead of denying the authorship +of his works, and so giving an excuse to the authorities to leave him +quiet, he put his name to his writings. He worked for his bread with +his hands, and in his "Emile" he recommended that all boys should be +taught some manual craft. Voltaire ridiculed the _gentleman carpenter_ +of Rousseau; but before that generation passed away, many a French +nobleman had reason to lament that he had not been taught to use the +saw and the plane. + +If Voltaire belonged to the eighteenth century, and brought to a +brilliant focus its scattered rays, Rousseau belonged more to the +nineteenth. Amidst the _persiflage_, the mockery, the light and easy +philosophy, of his day, he stood, "among them, but not of them, in a +crowd of thoughts which were not their thoughts." This is the true +explanation of his weakness and strength, and of the intense dislike +felt for him by Voltaire and the school of Voltaire. They belonged to +their time, Rousseau to a coming time. + +The eighteenth century, especially in France, was one in which nature +was at its minimum and art at its maximum. All was art. But art +separated from nature becomes artificial, not to say artful. Decorum +was the law in morals; the _biensances_ and _convenances_ ruled in +society. The stage was bound by conventional rules. Poetry walked +in silk attire, and made its toilette with the elaborate dignity of +the _leve_ of the Grand Monarque. Against all this Rousseau led the +reaction--the reaction inevitable as destiny. As art had been pushed +to an extreme, so now naturalism was carried to the opposite extreme. +Rousseau was the apostle of nature in all things. Children were to be +educated by the methods of nature, not according to the routine of old +custom. Governments were to go back to their origin in human nature; +society was to be reorganized on first principles. This voice crying in +the wilderness was like the trumpet of doom to the age, announcing the +age to come. It laid the axe at the root of the tree. Its outcome was +the French Revolution, that rushing, mighty flood, which carried away +the throne, the aristocracy, the manners, laws, and prejudices of the +past. + +In his first great work, the work which startled Europe, Rousseau +recalled man to himself. He said, "The true philosophy is to commune +with one's self,"--the greatest saying, thinks Henri Martin, that had +been pronounced in that century. Rousseau condemned luxury, and uttered +a prophetic cry of woe over the tangled perplexities of the time. +"There is no longer a remedy, _unless through some great revolution, +almost as much to be feared as the evil it would cure,--which it is +blamable to desire, impossible to foresee_." + +"_Man is naturally good_," says Rousseau. Before the frightful words +"mine" and "thine" were invented, how could there have been, he asks, +any vices or crimes? He denounced all slavery, all inequality, all +forms of oppression. His writings were full of exaggeration, but, +says the French historian, "no sooner had he opened his lips than he +restored earnestness to the world." The same writer, after speaking +of the faults of the "Nouvelle Hlose," adds that nevertheless "a +multitude of the letters of his 'Julie' are masterpieces of eloquence, +passion, and profundity; and the last portions are signalized by a +moral purity, a wisdom of views, and a religious elevation altogether +new in the France of the eighteenth century." Concerning "Emile," he +says, "It is the profoundest study of human nature in our language; it +was an ark of safety, launched by Providence on the waves of skepticism +and materialism. If Rousseau had been stricken out of the eighteenth +century, whither, we seriously ask, would the human mind have +drifted?"[43] + +The "Social Contract" appeared in 1762. In this work Rousseau swept +away by his powerful eloquence the arguments which placed sovereignty +elsewhere than in the hands of the people. This fundamental idea was +the seed corn which broke from the earth in the first Revolution, and +bears its ripe fruit in republican France to-day. D'Alembert, who +disliked Rousseau, said of "Emile" that "it placed him at the head of +all writers." The "Social Contract," illogical and unsound in many +things, yet tore down the whole framework of despotism. Van Laun, a +more recent historian, tells us that Rousseau was a man of the people, +who knew all their wants; that every vice he attacked was one that they +saw really present in their midst; that he "opened the flood-gates of +suppressed desires, which gushed forth, overwhelming a whole artificial +world." Villemain writes that the words of Rousseau, "descending like +a flame of fire, moved the souls of his contemporaries;" and that "his +books glow with an eloquence which can never pass away." Morley, to +whom Rousseau is essentially antipathic, says of the "Social Contract" +that its first words, "Man is born free, but is everywhere in chains," +thrilled two continents,--that it was the gospel of the Jacobins; and +the action of the convention in 1794 can be explained only by the +influence of Rousseau. He taught France to believe in a government of +the people, by the people, and for the people. Locke had already taught +this doctrine in England, where it produced no such violent outbreak, +because it encountered no such glaring abuses. + +Such is the striking contrast between these two greatest writers in +modern French literature. It is singular to observe their instinctive +antagonism in every point of belief and character. The merits of one +are precisely opposite to those of the other: their faults are equally +opposed. + +The events of Voltaire's life have been so often told that Mr. Parton +has not been able to add much to our knowledge of his biography. He +was born in 1694 and died in 1778, at the age of eighty-four, though +at his birth he was so feeble that those who believe that the world's +progress depends on the survival of the fittest would have thought +him not fit to be brought up. This was also the case with Goethe and +Walter Scott. His father was a notary, and the name Arouet had that +of Voltaire added to it, it being a name in his mother's family. This +affix was adopted by the lad when in the Bastille, at the age of +twenty-four. As a duck takes to water, so Voltaire took to his pen. In +his twelfth year he wrote verses addressed to the Dauphin, which so +pleased the famous Ninon de l'Enclos, then in her ninetieth year, that +she left the boy a legacy of two thousand francs. He went to a Jesuits' +school, and always retained a certain liking for the Jesuits. His +father wished to make him a notary, but he would "pen a stanza when he +should engross;" and the usual struggles between the paternal purpose +and the filial instinct ended, as usual, in the triumph of the latter. +He led a wild career for a time, in the society of dissipated abbs, +debauched noblemen, and women to whom pleasure was the only object. +Suspected of having written a lampoon on the death of Louis XIV., he +was sent to the Bastille, and came forth not only with a new name, +but with literature as his aim for the rest of his life. His first +play appeared on the stage in 1718, and from that time he continued to +write till his death. He traveled from the _chteau_ of one nobleman +to another, pouring out his satires and sarcasms through the press; +threatened by the angry rulers and priests who governed France, but +always escaping by some adroit manoeuvre. In England he became a deist +and a mathematician. His views of Christ and Christianity were summed +up in a quatrain which may be thus translated. Speaking of Jesus, he +says,-- + + "His actions are holy, his ethics divine; + Into hearts which are wounded he pours oil and wine. + And if, through imposture, those truths are received, + It still is a blessing to be thus deceived." + +He lived many years at Cirey with the Marchioness of Chtelet; the +marquis, her husband, accepting the curious relation without any +objection. Then followed the still stranger episode of his residence +with Frederic the Great, their love quarrels and reconciliations. After +this friendship came to an end, Voltaire went to live near Geneva in +Switzerland, but soon bought another estate just out of Switzerland, +in France, and a third a short distance away, in the territory of +another power. Thus, if threatened in one state, he could easily pass +into another. Here he lived and worked till the close of his life, +an untiring writer. He was a man of infinite wit, kind-hearted, with +little malignity of any sort, wishing in the main to do good. His +violent attacks upon Christianity may be explained by the fact of the +corruptions of the Church which were around him. The Church of France +in that day, in its higher circles, was a persecuting Church, yet +without faith: greedy for wealth, living in luxury, careless of the +poor, and well deserving the attacks of Voltaire. That he could not +look deeper and see the need of religious institutions of a better sort +was his misfortune. + +This work is a storehouse of facts for the history of Voltaire and his +time. We do not think it will materially alter the judgment pronounced +on him by such critics as Carlyle, Morley, and the majority of French +writers in our day. Voltaire was a shining light in his age, but that +age has gone by, and can never return. + + + + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON[44] + +MATT. vi. 23.--_If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of +light._ + + +It is natural and fit that many pulpits to-day should take for their +theme the character and influence of the great thinker and poet who has +just left us; for every such soul is a new revelation of God's truth +and love. Each opens the gateway between our lower world of earthly +care and earthly pleasure into a higher heavenly world of spirit. Such +men lift our lives to a higher plane, and convince us that we, also, +belong to God, to eternity, to heaven. And few, in our day, have been +such mediators of heavenly things to mankind as Ralph Waldo Emerson. + +Last Sunday afternoon, when the town of Concord was mourning through +all its streets for the loss of its beloved and revered citizen; when +the humblest cottage had on its door the badge of sorrow; when great +numbers came from abroad to testify their affection and respect, that +which impressed me the most was the inevitable response of the human +heart to whatever is true and good. Cynics may tell us that men are +duped by charlatans, led by selfish demagogues, incapable of knowing +honor and truth when set before them; that they always stone their +prophets and crucify their saviors; that they have eyes, and do not +see; ears, and never hear. This is all true for a time; but inevitably, +by a law as sure as that which governs the movements of the planets, +the souls of men turn at last toward what is true, generous, and noble. +The prophets and teachers of the race may be stoned by one generation, +but their monuments are raised by the next. They are misunderstood and +misrepresented to-day, but to-morrow they become the accredited leaders +of their time. Jesus, who knew well that he would be rejected and +murdered by a people blind and deaf to his truth, also knew that this +truth would sooner or later break down all opposition, and make him +master and king of the world. "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men +unto me." + +Last Sunday afternoon, as the grateful procession followed their +teacher to his grave in the Concord cemetery, the harshness of our +spring seemed to relent, and Nature became tender toward him who had +loved her so well. I thought of his words, "The visible heavens and +earth sympathized with Jesus." The town where "the embattled farmers +stood;" where the musket was discharged which opened the War of the +Revolution--the gun of which Lafayette said, "It was the alarm-gun of +the world;" the town of Hawthorne's "Old Manse," and of his grave, now +that Emerson also sleeps in its quiet valley, has received an added +glory. It has become one of the "Meccas of the mind." + +Let me describe the mental and spiritual condition of New England +when Emerson appeared. Calvinism, with its rigorous dogmatism, was +slowly dying, and had been succeeded by a calm and somewhat formal +rationalism. Locke was still the master in the realm of thought; +Addison and Blair in literary expression. In poetry, the school of Pope +was engaged in conflict with that of Byron and his contemporaries. +Wordsworth had led the way to a deeper view of nature; but Wordsworth +could scarcely be called a popular writer. In theology a certain +literalism prevailed, and the doctrines of Christianity were inferred +from counting and weighing texts on either side. Not the higher reason, +with its intuition of eternal ideas, but the analytic understanding, +with its logical methods, was considered to be the ruler in the world +of thought. There was more of culture than of intellectual life, more +of good habits than of moral enthusiasm. Religion had become very +much of an external institution. Christianity consisted in holding +rational or orthodox opinions, going regularly to church, and listening +every Sunday to a certain number of prayers, hymns, and sermons. +These sermons, with some striking exceptions, were rather tame and +mechanical. In Boston, it is true, Buckminster had appeared,--that soul +of flame which soon wore to decay its weak body. The consummate orator +Edward Everett had followed him in Brattle Square pulpit. Above all, +Channing had looked, with a new spiritual insight, into the truths of +religion and morality. But still the mechanical treatment prevailed in +a majority of the churches of New England, and was considered, on the +whole, to be the wisest and safest method. There was an unwritten creed +of morals, literature, and social thought to which all were expected +to conform. There was little originality and much repetition. On all +subjects there were certain formulas which it was considered proper +to repeat. "Thou art a blessed fellow," says one of Shakespeare's +characters, "to think as other people think. Not a man's thought in the +world keeps the roadway better than thine." The thought of New England +kept the roadway. Of course, at all times a large part of the belief +of the community is derived from memory, custom, and imitation; but +in those days, if I remember them aright, it was regarded as a kind +of duty to think as every one else thought; a sort of delinquency, or +weakness, to differ from the majority. + +If the movements of thought are now much more independent and +spontaneous; if to-day traditions have lost their despotic power; if +even those who hold an orthodox creed are able to treat it as a dead +letter, respectable for its past uses, but by no means binding on us +now, this is largely owing to the manly position taken by Emerson. And +yet, let it be observed, this influence was not exercised by attacking +old opinions, by argument, by denial, by criticism. Theodore Parker +did all this, but his influence on thought has been far less than that +of Emerson. Parker was a hero who snuffed the battle afar off, and +flung himself, sword in hand, into the thick of the conflict. But, +much as we love and reverence his honesty, his immense activity, his +devotion to truth and right, we must admit to-day, standing by these +two friendly graves, that the power of Emerson to soften the rigidity +of time-hardened belief was far the greater. It is the old fable of +the storm and sun. The violent attacks of the tempest only made the +traveler cling more closely to his cloak; the genial heat of the sun +compelled him to throw it aside. In all Emerson's writings there is +scarcely any argument. He attacks no man's belief; he simply states +his own. His method is always positive, constructive. He opens the +windows and lets in more light. He is no man's opponent; the enemy +of no one. He states what he sees, and that which he does not see he +passes by. He was often attacked, but never replied. His answer was +to go forward, and say something else. He did not care for what he +called the "bugbear consistency." If to-day he said what seemed like +Pantheism, and to-morrow he saw some truth which seemed to reveal a +divine personality, a supreme will, he uttered the last, as he had +declared the first, always faithful to the light within. He left it to +the spirit of truth to reconcile such apparent contradictions. He was +like his own humble-bee-- + + "Seeing only what is fair, + Sipping only what is sweet; + Thou dost mock at fate and care, + Leave the chaff and take the wheat." + +By this method of positive statement he not only saved the time usually +wasted in argument, attack, reply, rejoinder, but he gave us the +substance of Truth, instead of its form. Logic and metaphysic reveal +no truths; they merely arrange in order what the higher faculties of +the mind have made known. Hence the speedy oblivion which descends on +polemics of all sorts. The great theological debaters, where are they? +The books of Horsley and McGee are buried in the same grave with those +of Belsham and Priestley, their old opponents. The bitter attacks on +Christianity by Voltaire and Paine are inurned in the same dark and +forgotten vaults with the equally bitter defenses of Christianity by +its numerous champions. Argument may often be necessary, but no truth +is slain by argument; no error can be kept alive by it. Emerson is an +eminent example of a man who never replied to attacks, but went on +his way, and saw at last all opposition hushed, all hostility at an +end. He devoted his powers to giving to his readers his insights, +knowing that these alone feed the soul. Thus men came to him to be +fed. His sheep heard his voice. Those who felt themselves better +for his instruction followed him. He collected around him thus an +ever-increasing band of disciples, until in England, in Germany, in all +lands where men read and think, he is looked up to as a master. Many of +these disciples were persons of rare gifts and powers, like Margaret +Fuller, Theodore Parker, George Ripley, Hawthorne. Many others were +unknown to fame, yet deeply sensible of the blessings they had received +from their prophet and seer of the nineteenth century. For this was his +office. He was a man who saw. He had the vision and the faculty divine. +He sat near the fountain-head, and tasted the waters of Helicon in +their source. + +His first little book, a duodecimo of less than a hundred pages, called +"Nature," published in 1836, indicates all these qualities. It begins +thus:-- + +"Our age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres of the fathers. It +writes biographies, histories, criticisms. The foregoing generations +beheld God and Nature face to face; we, through their eyes. Why should +not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe? Why should not +we have a poetry and philosophy of insight, and not of tradition, and +a religion by revelation to us, and not the history of theirs?... The +sun shines to-day also.... Undoubtedly we have no questions to ask +which are unanswerable." + +This was his first doctrine, that of self-reliance. He taught that +God had given to every man the power to see with his own eyes, think +with his own mind, believe what seemed to him true, plant himself on +his instincts, and, as he says, "call a pop-gun a pop-gun, though +the ancient and honorable of the earth declare it to be the crack of +doom." This was manly and wholesome doctrine. It might, no doubt, be +abused, and lead some persons to think they were men of original genius +when they were only eccentric. It may have led others to attack all +institutions and traditions, as though, if a thing were old, it was +necessarily false. But Emerson himself was the best antidote to such +extravagance. To a youth who brought to him a manuscript confuting +Plato he replied, "When you attack the king you ought to be sure to +kill him." But his protest against the prevailing conventionalism was +healthy, and his call on all "to be themselves" was inspiring. + +The same doctrine is taught in the introductory remarks of the editors +of the "Dial." They say they have obeyed with joy the strong current of +thought which has led many sincere persons to reprobate that rigor of +conventions which is turning them to stone, which renounces hope and +only looks backward, which suspects improvement, and holds nothing so +much in horror as the dreams of youth. This work, the "Dial," made a +great impression, out of all proportion to its small circulation. By +the elders it was cordially declared to be unintelligible mysticism, +and so, no doubt, much of it was. Those inside, its own friends, often +made as much fun of it as those outside. Yet it opened the door for +many new and noble thoughts, and was a wild bugle-note, a reveill, +calling on all generous hearts to look toward the coming day. + +Here is an extract from one of Emerson's letters from Europe as early +as March, 1833. It is dated Naples:-- + +"And what if it be Naples! It is only the same world of cakes and ale, +of man, and truth, and folly. I will not be imposed upon by a name. +It is so easy to be overawed by names that it is hard to keep one's +judgment upright, and be pleased only after your own way. Bai and +Pausilippo sound so big that we are ready to surrender at discretion, +and not stickle for our private opinion against what seems the human +race. But here's for the plain old Adam, the simple, genuine self +against the whole world." + +Again he says: "Nothing so fatal to genius as genius. Mr. Taylor, +author of 'Van Artevelde,' is a man of great intellect, but by study of +Shakespeare is forced to reproduce Shakespeare." + +Thus the first great lesson taught by Mr. Emerson was "self-reliance." +And the second was like it, though apparently opposed to it, +"God-reliance." Not really opposed to it, for it meant this: God is +near to your mind and heart, as he was to the mind and heart of the +prophets and inspired men of the past. God is ready to inspire you also +if you will trust in him. In the little book called "Nature" he says:-- + +"The highest is present to the soul of man; the dread universal +essence, which is not wisdom, or love, or power, or beauty, but all +in one, and each entirely, is that for which all things exist, and +by which they are. Believe that throughout nature spirit is present; +that it is one, that it does not act upon us from without, but through +ourselves.... As a plant on the earth, so man rests on the bosom +of God, nourished by unfailing fountains, and drawing at his need +inexhaustible power." + +And so in his poem called "The Problem" he teaches that all religions +are from God; that all the prophets and sibyls and lofty souls that +have sung psalms, written scripture, and built the temples and +cathedrals of men, were inspired by a spirit above their own. He puts +aside the shallow explanation that any of the great religions ever came +from priestcraft:-- + + "Out from the heart of Nature rolled + The burdens of the Bible old; + The litanies of nations came, + Like the volcano's tongue of flame, + Up from the burning core below, + The canticles of love and woe. + + "The word unto the prophet spoken + Was writ on tables yet unbroken; + The word by seers or sibyls told, + In groves of oak or fanes of gold, + Still floats upon the moving wind, + Still whispers to the willing mind. + One accent of the Holy Ghost + The heedless world hath never lost." + +In all that Emerson says of nature he is equally devout. He sees God +in it all. It is to him full of a divine charm. "In the woods," he +says, "is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God a decorum +and sanctity reigns, and we return to reason and faith." "The currents +of the Universal Being circulate through me. I am part and particle of +God." For saying such things as these he was accused of Pantheism. And +he was a Pantheist; yet only as Paul was a Pantheist when he said, "In +Him we live and move and have our being;" "From whom and through whom +are all things;" "The fullness of him who filleth all in all." Emerson +was, in his view of nature, at one with Wordsworth, who said:-- + + "The clouds were touched, + And in their silent faces he could read + Unutterable love. Sensation, soul, and form + All melted into him; they swallowed up + His animal being; in them did he live, + And by them did he live; they were his life. + In such high hour + Of visitation from the living God, + Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired." + +Emerson has thus been to our day the prophet of God in the soul, in +nature, in life. He has stood for spirit against matter. Darwin, his +great peer, the serene master in the school of science, was like him +in this,--that he also said what he saw and no more. He also taught +what God showed to him in the outward world of sense, as Emerson what +God showed in the inward world of spirit. Amid the stormy disputes of +their time, each of these men went his own way, his eye single and his +whole body full of light. The work of Darwin was the easier, for he +floated with the current of the time, which sets at present so strongly +toward the study of things seen and temporal. But the work of Emerson +was more noble, for he stands for things unseen and eternal,--for a +larger religion, a higher faith, a nobler worship. This strong and +tender soul has done its work and gone on its way. But he will always +fill a niche of the universal Church as a New England prophet. He had +the purity of the New England air in his moral nature, a touch of the +shrewd Yankee wit in his speech, and the long inheritance of ancestral +faith incarnate and consolidated in blood and brain. But to this were +added qualities which were derived from some far-off realm of human +life: an Oriental cast of thought, a touch of medival mysticism, and +a vocabulary brought from books unknown to our New England literature. +No commonplaces of language are to be found in his writings, and though +he read the older writers, he does not imitate them. He, also, like +his humble-bee, has gathered contributions from remotest fields, and +enriched our language with a new and picturesque speech all his own. + +Let us, then, be grateful for this best of God's gifts,--another soul +sent to us filled with divine light. Thus we learn anew how full are +nature and life of God:-- + + "Ever fresh the broad creation, + A divine improvisation; + From the heart of God proceeds + A single will, a million deeds." + +One word concerning Mr. Emerson's relation to Christ and to +Christianity. The distinction which he made between Jesus and other +teachers was, no doubt, one of degree and not one of kind. He put no +great gulf of supernatural powers, origin, or office between Christ +and the ethnic prophets. But his reverence for Jesus was profound and +tender. Nor did he object to the word "Christian" or to the Christian +Church. In recent years, at least, he not unfrequently attended the +services of the Unitarian Church in his town, and I have met him at +Unitarian conventions, a benign and revered presence. + +In the cemetery at Bonn, on the Rhine, is the tomb of Niebuhr, the +historian, a man of somewhat like type, as I judge, to our Emerson. At +least, some texts on his monument would be admirably appropriate for +any stone which may be placed over the remains of the American prophet +and poet in the sweet valley of tombs in Concord. + +One of these texts was from Sirach xlvii. 14, 17: + + "How wise wast thou in thy youth, and as a flood filled with + understanding! + Thy soul covered the whole earth, and thou filledst it with dark + parables. + Thy name went far unto the islands, and for thy peace thou wast + beloved. + The countries marvelled at thee for thy songs and proverbs and + parables and interpretations." + +And equally appropriate would be this Horatian line, also on Niebuhr's +monument:-- + + "Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam cari capitis." + +From a lifelong friend of Emerson I have just received a letter +containing these words, which, better than most descriptions, give the +character of his soul:-- + +"And so the white wings have spread, and the great soul has left us. + + ''Tis death is dead; not he.' + +He had no vanity, no selfishness; no greed, no hate; none of the +weights that drag on common mortals. His life was an illumination; a +large, fair light; the Pharos of New England, as in other days our dear +brother called him. And this light shone further and wider the longer +it burned." + + + + +HARRIET MARTINEAU[45] + + +The whole work[46] is very interesting. How could it be otherwise, in +giving the history of so remarkable a life? The amount of literary work +which Miss Martineau performed is amazing. She began to write for the +press when she was nineteen, and continued until she could no longer +hold her pen. The pen was her sword, which she wielded with a warrior's +joy, in the conflict of truth with error, of right with wrong. She +wrote many books; but her articles in reviews and newspapers were +innumerable. We find no attempt in either part of this biography to +give a complete list of her writings. Perhaps it would be impossible. +She never seems to have thought of keeping such a record herself, any +more than a hero records the number of the blows he strikes, in battle. +No sooner had she dismissed one task than another came; and sometimes +several were going on together. Like other voluminous writers, she +enjoyed the exercise of her productive powers; and, as she somewhere +tells us, her happiest hours were those in which she was seated at her +desk with her pen. + +Her principal works cover a large range of thought and study. One of +her first books, "The Traditions of Palestine," she continued to regard +long after with more affection than any other of her writings, except +"Eastern Life." But her authorship began when she was nineteen, in an +article contributed to a Unitarian monthly. Afterwards she obtained +three separate prizes offered by the Central Unitarian Association +for three essays on different topics. About the same time she wrote +"Five Years of Youth," a tale which she never looked at afterward. But +her first great step in authorship, and that which at once made her a +power in politics and in literature, was taken when she commenced her +series of tales on "Political Economy." She began, however, to write +these stories, not knowing that she was treating questions of Political +Economy, "the very name of which," she says, "was then either unknown +to me, or conveyed no meaning." She was then about twenty-five years +old. She had the usual difficulties with various publishers which +unknown authors are sure to experience, and these tales, which became +so popular, were rejected by one firm after another. One of them was +refused by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, as being +too dull. The president of that Society, Lord Brougham, afterward +vented his rage on the sub-committee which rejected the offered story, +and so had permitted their Society, "instituted for that very purpose, +to be driven out of the field by a little deaf woman at Norwich." +At last a publisher was found who agreed to take the books on very +unsatisfactory terms. As soon as the first number appeared, the success +of the series was established. A second edition of five thousand copies +was immediately called for,--the entire periodical press came out in +favor of the tales,--and from that hour Miss Martineau had only to +choose what to write, sure that it would at once find a publisher. + +She was at this time thirty years old. She was already deaf, her health +poor; but she then began a career of intellectual labor seldom equaled +by the strongest man through the longest life. She began to write every +morning after breakfast; and, unless when traveling, seldom passed a +morning during the rest of her life without writing,--working from +eight o'clock until two. Her method was, after selecting her subject, +to procure all the standard works upon it, and study them. She then +proceeded to make the plan of her work, and to draw the outline of her +story. If the scene was laid abroad, she procured books of travels and +topography. Then she drew up the contents of each chapter in detail, +and, after this preliminary labor, the story was written easily and +with joy. + +Of these stories she wrote thirty-four in two years and a half. She +was then thirty-two. She received 2,000 for the whole series,--a +sufficiently small compensation,--but she established her position +and her fame. Her principal books published afterward were her two +works on America, the novels "Deerbrook" and "The Hour and the Man;" +nine volumes of tales on the Forest and Game Laws; four stories in the +"Playfellow;" "Life in the Sick-Room;" "Letters on Mesmerism;" "Eastern +Life, Past and Present;" "History of England during the Thirty Years' +Peace;" "Letters on the Laws of Man's Social Nature and Development;" +"Translation and Condensation of Comte's Positive Philosophy;" besides +many smaller works, making fifty-two titles in Allibone. In addition +to this, she wrote many articles in reviews and magazines; and Mrs. +Chapman mentions that she sent to a single London journal, the "Daily +News," sixteen hundred articles, at the rate sometimes of six a week. +Surely Harriet Martineau was one who worked faithfully while her day +endured. + +But, if we would do her justice, we must consider also the motive and +spirit in which she worked. Each thing she did had for its purpose +nothing merely personal, but some good to mankind. Though there was +nothing in her character of the sentimentalism of philanthropy, she was +filled with the spirit of philanthropy. A born reformer, she inherited +from her Huguenot and her Unitarian ancestors the love of truth and the +hatred of error, with the courage which was ready to avow her opinions, +however unpopular. Thus, her work was warfare, and every article or +book which she printed was a blow delivered against some flagrant +wrong, or what she believed such,--in defense of some struggling truth, +or something supposed to be truth. She might be mistaken; but her +purposes through life were, in the main, noble, generous, and good. + +And there can be no question of her ability, moral and intellectual. +No commonplace mind could have overcome such obstacles and achieved +such results. Apparently she had no very high opinion of her own +intellectual powers. She denies that she possesses genius; but +she asserts her own power. She criticises "Deerbrook" with some +severity. And, in fact, Harriet Martineau's mind is analytic rather +than creative; it is strong rather than subtle; and, if it possesses +imagination, it is of rather a prosaic kind. Her intellect is of +a curiously masculine order; no other female writer was ever less +feminine. With all her broad humanity she has little sympathy for +individuals. A large majority of those whom she mentions in her memoirs +she treats with a certain contempt. + +Her early life seems to have been very sad. We are again and again +told how she was misunderstood and maltreated in her own home. Her +health was bad until she was thirty; partly owing, as she supposed, to +ill-treatment. She needed affection, and was treated with sternness. +Justice she did not receive, nor kindness, and her heart was soured +and her temper spoiled, so she tells us, by this mismanagement. As she +does not specify, or give us the details of this ill-treatment, the +story is useless as a warning; and we hardly see the reason for thus +publishing the wrongs of her childhood. As children may be sometimes +unjust to parents, no less than parents to children, the facts and the +moral are both left uncertain. And, on the whole, her chief reason for +telling the story appears to be the mental necessity she was under of +judging and sentencing those from whom she supposes herself to have +received ill-treatment in any part of her life. + +This is indeed the most painful feature of the work before us. Knowing +the essentially generous and just spirit of Harriet Martineau, it is +strange to see how carefully she has loaded this piece of artillery +with explosive and lacerating missiles, to be discharged after her +death among those with whom she had mingled in social intercourse or +literary labors. Some against whom she launches her sarcasms are still +living; some are dead, but have left friends behind, to be wounded +by her caustic judgments. Is it that her deficiency in a woman's +sensibility, or the absence of a poetic imagination, prevented her from +realizing the suffering she would inflict? Or is it the habit of mind +from which those are apt to suffer who devote themselves to the reform +of abuses? As each kind of manual occupation exposes the workman to +some special disease,--as those who dig canals suffer from malaria, +and file-grinders from maladies of the lungs,--so it seems that each +moral occupation has its appropriate moral danger. Clergymen are apt +to be dogmatic or sectarian; lawyers become sharp and sophistical; +musicians and artists are irritable; and the danger of a reformer is of +becoming a censorious critic of those who cannot accept his methods, or +who will not join his party. That Harriet Martineau did not escape this +risk will presently appear. + +While writing her politico-economical stories she moved to London, +and there exchanged the quiet seclusion of her Norwich life for +social triumphs of the first order, and intercourse with every kind +of celebrity. All had read her books, from Victoria, who was then a +little girl perusing them with her governess, to foreign kings and +savants of the highest distinction. So this young author--for she was +only thirty--was received at once into the most brilliant circles of +London society. But it does not appear that she lost a single particle +of her dignity or self-possession. Among the great she neither asserted +herself too much nor showed too much deference. Vanity was not her +foible; and her head was too solidly set upon her shoulders to be +turned by such successes. She enjoyed the society of these people of +superior refinement, rank, and culture, but did not come to depend upon +it; and in all this Harriet Martineau sinned not in her spirit. + +But why, in writing about these people long afterward, should she have +thought it necessary to produce such sharp and absolute sentences on +each and all? Into this judgment-hall of Osiris-Martineau, every one +whom she has ever known is called up to receive his final doom. The +poor Unitarian ministers, who had taught the child as they best could, +are dismissed with contemptuous severity. This religious instruction +had certainly done her some good. Religion, she admits, was her best +resource till she wrought her way to something better. Ann Turner, +daughter of the Unitarian minister, gave her piety a practical turn, +and when afraid of every one she saw, she was not at all afraid of God; +and, on the whole, she says religion was a great comfort and pleasure +to her. Nevertheless, she is astonished that Unitarians should believe +that they are giving their children a Christian education. She accuses +these teachers of her childhood of altering the Scripture to suit their +own notions; being apparently ignorant that most of the interpolations +or mistranslations of which they complained have since been conceded +as such by the best Orthodox critics. But she does not hesitate to +give her opinion of all her old acquaintances in the frankest manner, +and for the most part it is unfavorable. Mrs. Opie and Mrs. John +Taylor are among the "mere pedants." William Taylor, from want of +truth and conviction, talked blasphemy. She speaks with contempt of a +physician who politely urged her to come and dine with him, because +he had neglected her until she became famous. Lord Brougham was +"vain and selfish, low in morals, and unrestrained in temper." Lord +Campbell was "flattering to an insulting degree;" Archbishop Whately, +"odd and overbearing," "sometimes rude and tiresome," and "singularly +overrated;" Stanley, Bishop of Norwich, "timid," "sensitive," +"heedless," "without courage or dignity." Macaulay "talked nonsense" +about the copyright bill, and "set at naught every principle of +justice in regard to authors' earnings." Macaulay's opposition to that +bill was based on such grounds of perfect justice that he defeated +it single-handed. But Harriet Martineau decided then and there that +Macaulay was a failure, and that "he wanted heart," and that he "never +has achieved any complete success." The poet Campbell had "a morbid +craving for praise." As to women, Lady Morgan, Lady Davy, Mrs. Jameson, +Mrs. Austin, "may make women blush and men be insolent" with their +"gross and palpable vanities." Landseer was a toady to great people. +Morpeth had "evident weaknesses." Sir Charles Bell showed his ignorance +by relying on the argument for Design. The resources of Eastlake were +very _borns_. John Sterling "rudely ignored me." Lady Mary Shepherd +was "a pedant." Coleridge, she asserts, will only be remembered as a +warning; though twenty years ago she, Miss Martineau, "regarded him +as a poet." Godwin was "timid." Basil Montagu was "cowardly;" and Lord +Monteagle "agreeable enough to those who were not particular about +sincerity." Urquhart had "insane egotism and ferocious discontent." The +Howitts made "an unintelligible claim to my friendship," their "tempers +are turbulent and unreasonable." It may be some explanation of this +unintelligible claim that it was heard through her trumpet. Fredrika +Bremer is accused of habits of "flattery" and "a want of common sense." +Miss Mitford is praised, but then accused of a "habit of flattery," +and blamed for her "disparagement of others." And it is Miss Martineau +who brings this charge! She also tells us that Miss Bremer "proposes +to reform the world by a floating religiosity," whatever that may be. +But perhaps her severest sentence is pronounced on the Kembles, who +are accused of "incurable vulgarity" and "unreality." In this case, +as in others, Miss Martineau pronounces this public censure on those +whom she had learned to know in the intimacy of private friendship and +personal confidence. She thus violates the rules rather ostentatiously +laid down in her Introduction. For she claims there that she practices +self-denial in interdicting the publication of her letters,[47] and +gives her reasons thus: "Epistolary conversation is written speech; +and the _onus_ rests with those who publish it to show why the laws of +honor, which are uncontested in regard to conversation, may be violated +when the conversation is written instead of spoken." Most of her sharp +judgments above quoted are pronounced on those whom she learned to +know in the private intercourse of society. Sometimes she recites the +substance of what she heard (or supposed that she heard; for she used +an ear-tube when she first went to live in London). Thus she tells +about a conversation with Wordsworth, and reports his complaints of +Jeffrey and other reviewers, and quotes him as saying about one of his +own poems, that it was "a chain of very _valooable_ thoughts." "You +see, it does not best fulfill the conditions of poetry; but it is" +(solemnly) "a chain of extremely valooable thoughts." She then proceeds +to pronounce her sentence on Wordsworth as she did on Coleridge. She +felt at once, she says, in Wordsworth's works, "the absence of sound, +accurate, weighty thought, and of genuine poetic inspiration." She +also informs us that "the very basis of philosophy is absent in him," +and that it is only necessary "to open Shelley, Tennyson, or even poor +Keats ... to feel that, with all their truth and all their charm, few +of Wordsworth's pieces are poems." "_Even poor Keats!_" This is her +_de haut en bas_ style of criticism on Wordsworth, one of whose poems +is generally accepted as the finest written in the English language +during the last hundred years. And this is her way of respecting "the +code of honor" in regard to private conversation! + +In 1834, at the age of thirty-two, Harriet Martineau sailed for the +United States, where she remained two years. She went for rest; but +the quantity of work done in those two years would have been enough +to fill five or six years of any common life. At this point she began +a new career; forming new ties, engaging in new duties, studying new +problems, and beginning a new activity in another sphere of labor. The +same great qualities which she had hitherto displayed showed themselves +here again; accompanied with their corresponding defects. Her wonderful +power of study enabled her to enter into the very midst of the +phenomena of American life; her noble generosity induced her to throw +herself heart, hand, and mind into the greatest struggle then waging +on the face of the earth. The antislavery question, which the great +majority of people of culture despised or disliked, took possession +of her soul. She became one of the party of Abolitionists, of which +Mr. Garrison was the chief, and lived to see that party triumph in the +downfall of slavery. She took her share of the hatred or the scorn +heaped on that fiery body of zealous propagandists, and was counted +worthy of belonging to what she herself called "the Martyr Age of the +United States." + +Fortunately for herself, before she visited Boston, and became +acquainted with the Abolitionists, she went to Washington, and traveled +somewhat extensively in the Southern States. At Washington she saw many +eminent Southern senators, who cordially invited her to visit them at +their homes. In South Carolina she was welcomed or introduced by Mr. +Calhoun, Governor Hayne, and Colonel Preston. Judge Porter took charge +of her in Louisiana. In Kentucky she was the guest of Mrs. Irwin, Henry +Clay's daughter and neighbor. Without fully accepting Mrs. Chapman's +somewhat sweeping assertion that there was no eminent statesman, man +of science, politician, partisan, philanthropist, jurist, professor, +merchant, divine, nor distinguished woman, in the whole land, who did +not pay her homage, there is no doubt that she received the respect +and good-will of many such. She was deeply impressed, she says, on +arriving in the United States, with a society basking in one bright +sunshine of good-will. She thought the New Englanders, perhaps, the +best people in the world. Many well-known names appear in these pages, +as soon becoming intimate acquaintances or friends; among these were +Judge Story, John G. Palfrey, Stephen C. Phillips, the Gilmans of South +Carolina, Mr. and Mrs. Furness of Philadelphia, and in Massachusetts +the Sedgwicks, the Follens, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray Loring, Mr. and +Mrs. Charles G. Loring, Dr. Channing, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Ware, Dr. +Flint of Salem, and Ephraim Peabody. + +When Miss Martineau had identified herself with Mr. Garrison and his +friends by taking part in their meetings, those who had merely sought +her on account of her position and reputation naturally fell away. But +it may be doubted whether she was in such danger of being mobbed or +murdered as she and her editor suppose. She seems to think that Mr. +Henry Ware did a very brave deed in driving to Mr. Francis Jackson's +house to take her home from an antislavery meeting. She speaks of +the reign of terror which existed in Boston at that time. No doubt +she, and other Abolitionists, had their share of abuse; but it is not +probable that any persons were, as she thought, plotting against her +life. She and her friends were deterred from taking a proposed journey +to Cincinnati and Louisville by being informed that it was intended +to mob her in the first city and to hang her in the second. Now, the +writer of this article was at that time residing in Louisville, and +though antislavery discussions and antislavery lectures had taken +place there about that period, and though antislavery articles not +unfrequently appeared in the city journals, no objection or opposition +was made to all this by anybody in that place. In fact, it was easier +at that time to speak against slavery in Louisville than in Boston. The +leading people in Kentucky of all parties were then openly opposed +to slavery, and declared their hope and purpose of making Kentucky a +free State. A year later, Dr. Channing published his work on slavery, +which was denounced for its abolitionism by the "Boston Statesman," and +sharply criticised in a pamphlet by the Massachusetts attorney-general. +But copious extracts from this work, especially of the parts which +exposed the sophisms of the defenders of slavery, were published in +a Louisville magazine, and not the least objection was made to it in +that city. At a later period it might have been different, though an +antislavery paper was published in Louisville as late as 1845, one of +the editors being a native Kentuckian. + +After her return from the United States she published her two works, +"Society in America," and "Retrospect of Western Travel;" and then +wrote her first novel, "Deerbrook." The books on America were perhaps +the best then written by any foreigner except De Tocqueville. They +were generous, honest, kind, and utterly frank,--they were full of +capital descriptions of American scenery. She spoke the truth to us, +and she spoke it in love. The chief fault in these works was her tone +of dogmatism, and her _ex cathedr_ judgments; which, as we have before +hinted, are among the defects of her qualities. + +In 1838, when thirty-six years old, she was taken with serious illness, +which confined her to her room for six years. She attributes this +illness to her anxiety about her aged aunt and mother. Her mother, +she tells us, was irritable on account of Miss Martineau's fame and +position in society; in short, she was jealous of her daughter's +success. Miss Martineau was obliged to sit up late after midnight to +mend her own clothes, as she was not allowed to have a maid or to hire +a working-woman, even at her own expense. How she could have been +prevented is difficult to see, especially as she was the money-making +member of the family. It seems hardly worth while to give us this +glimpse into domestic difficulties. But, no doubt, she is quite correct +in adding, as another reason for her illness, the toils which were +breaking her down. The strongest men could hardly bear such a strain on +the nervous system without giving way. + +And here comes in the important episode of Mr. Atkinson, mesmerism, +and the New Philosophy. She believes that she was cured of a disease, +pronounced incurable by the regular physicians, by mesmerism. By this +she means the influence exerted upon her by certain manipulations +from another person. And as long as we are confessedly so ignorant +of nervous diseases, there seems no reason to question the facts to +which Miss Martineau testifies. She was, there is little doubt, cured +by these manipulations; what the power was which wrought through them +remains to be ascertained. + +In regard to Mr. Atkinson and his philosophy, accepted by her with +such satisfaction, and which henceforth became the master-light of +all her seeing, our allotted space will allow us only to speak very +briefly. The results of this new mental departure could not but disturb +and afflict many of her friends, to whom faith in God, Christ, and +immortality was still dear. To Miss Martineau herself, however, her +disbelief in these seemed a happy emancipation. She carried into the +assertion of her new and unpopular ideas the same honesty and courage +she had always shown, and also the same superb dogmatism and contempt +for those who differed from her. Apparently it was always to her an +absolute impossibility to imagine herself wrong when she had once +come to a conclusion. In theory she might conceive it possible to be +mistaken, but practically she felt herself infallible. The following +examples will show how she speaks, throughout her biography, of those +who held the opinions she had rejected. + +Miss Martineau, being a Necessarian, says, "All the best minds I know +are Necessarians; all, indeed, who are qualified to discuss the subject +at all." "The very smallest amount of science is enough to enable any +rational being to see that the constitution and action of will are +determined by the influences beyond the control of the possessor of +the faculty." She adds, that for more than thirty years she has seen +how awful "are the evils which arise from that monstrous remnant of +old superstition,--the supposition of a self-determining power, etc." +Now, among those she had intimately known were Dr. Channing and James +Martineau, neither of them believing in the doctrine of Necessity. + +Speaking of Christianity, after she had rejected it, she calls it +"a monstrous superstition." Elsewhere she speaks of "the Christian +superstition of the contemptible nature of the body;" says that +"Christians deprave their moral sense;" talks of "the selfish +complacencies of religion," and of "the atmosphere of selfishness which +is the very life of Christian doctrine and of every other theological +scheme;" speaks of "the Christian mythology as a superstition which +fails to make happy, fails to make good, fails to make wise, and +has become as great an obstacle in the way of progress as the prior +mythologies it took the place of." "For three centuries it has been +undermined, and its overthrow completely decided." Thus easily does she +settle the question of Christianity. + +Miss Martineau ceased to believe in immortality; and immediately all +believers in immortality became, to her mind, selfish or stupid, or +both. "I neither wish to live longer here," she says, "nor to find +life again elsewhere. It seems to me simply absurd to expect it, and +a mere act of restricted human imagination and morality to conceive +of it." There is "a total absence of evidence for a renewed life." +"I myself utterly disbelieve in a future life." She would submit, +though reluctantly, to live again, if compelled to. "If I find myself +conscious after the lapse of life, it will be all right, of course; +but, as I said, the supposition appears to me absurd." + +Under the instructions of Mr. Atkinson, Miss Martineau ceased to +believe in a personal God, or any God but an unknown First Cause, +identical with the Universe. The argument for Design, on which Mr. John +Stuart Mill, for instance, lays such stress, seemed to her "puerile +and unphilosophical." The God of Christians she calls an "invisible +idol." He "who does justice to his own faculties" must give up "the +personality of the First Cause." She considered the religion in her +"Life in the Sick-Room" to have been "insincere;" which we, who know +the perfect honesty of Harriet Martineau, must take the liberty to +deny. Though declaring herself to be no Atheist, because she believes +in an unknown and unknowable First Cause, she regards philosophical +Atheists as the best people she had ever known, and was delighted in +finding herself unacquainted with God, and so at peace. + +It is curious to read these "Letters on the Laws of Man's Nature and +Development," of which Harriet Martineau and Mr. Atkinson are the joint +authors. The simple joy with which they declare themselves the proud +discoverers of this happy land of the unknowable is almost touching. +All that we know, say they, is matter or its manifestation. "Mind +is the product of the brain," and "the brain is not, as even some +phrenologists have asserted, the instrument of the mind." The brain +is the source of consciousness, will, reason. Man is "a creature of +necessity." "It seems certain that mind, or the conditions essential +to mind, is evolved from gray vesicular matter." "Nothing in nature +indicates a future life." "Knowledge recognizes that nothing can be +free, or by chance; no, not even God,--God is the substance of Law." +Whereupon Miss Martineau inquires whether Mr. Atkinson, in speaking of +God, did not merely use another name for Law. "We know nothing beyond +law, do we?" asks this meek disciple, seeking for information. Mr. +Atkinson replies that we must assume some fundamental principle "as a +thing essential, though unknown; and it is this which I wrongly enough +perhaps termed God." But if it is wrong to call this principle God, +and if they know nothing else behind phenomena, why do they complain +so bitterly at being charged with Atheism? And directly Mr. Atkinson +asserts that "Philosophy finds no God in nature; no personal being or +creator, nor sees the want of any." "A Creator after the likeness of +man" he affirms to be "an impossibility." For, though he professes to +know _nothing_ about God, he somehow contrives to know that God is +_not_ what others believe him to be. Eternal sleep after death he +professes to be the only hope of a wise man. The idea of free-will +is so absurd that it "would make a Democritus fall on his back and +roar with laughter." "Christianity is neither reasonable nor moral." +Miss Martineau responds that "deep and sweet" is her repose in the +conviction that "there is no theory of God, of an author of Nature, +of an origin of the Universe, which is not utterly repugnant to my +faculties; which is not (to my feelings) so irreverent as to make me +blush, so misleading as to make me mourn." And thus do the apostle and +the disciple go on, triumphantly proclaiming their own limitations to +the end of the volume. + +And yet the effect of this book is by no means wholly disagreeable. To +be sure, in their constant assertions of the "impossibility" of any +belief but their own being true, their honest narrowness may often be +a little amusing. They seem like two eyeless fish in the recesses of +the darkness of the Mammoth Cave talking to each other of the absurdity +of believing in any sun or upper world. But they are so honest, so +sincere, so much in love with Truth, and so free from any self-seeking, +that we find it easy to sympathize with their nave sense of discovery, +as they go sounding on their dim and perilous way. Only we cannot +but think what a disappointment it must be to Harriet Martineau to +find herself alive again in the other world. In her case, as Mr. +Wentworth Higginson acutely remarks, we are deprived of the pleasure +of sympathizing with her gladness at discovering her mistake, since +another life will be to her a disagreeable as well as an unforeseen +event. + +Nor is it extraordinary, to those who trace Harriet Martineau's +intellectual history, that she should have fallen into these melancholy +conclusions. In her childhood and youth, most of the Unitarians of +England, followers of Priestley, adopted his philosophy of materialism +and necessity. Priestley did not believe in a soul, but trusted for +a future life to the resurrection of the body. He was also a firm +believer in philosophical necessity. An active and logical mind like +Miss Martineau's, destitute of the keenness and profundity which +belonged to that of her brother James, might very naturally arrive at +a disbelief in anything but matter and its phenomena. From ignorance +of these facts, Mrs. Chapman expresses surprise that the inconsistency +of Harriet Martineau's belief in necessity, with other parts of +her Unitarianism, "should not have struck herself, her judges, or +the denomination at large." It _would_ have been inconsistent with +American Unitarianism, but it was not foreign from the views of English +Unitarians at that time. + +The publication of these "Letters" naturally caused pain to religious +people, and especially to those of them who had known and honored Miss +Martineau for her many past services in the cause of human freedom and +progress. Many of these were Unitarians and Unitarian ministers, who +had been long proud of her as a member of their denomination and one of +their most valued co-workers. It seemed necessary for them to declare +their dissent from her new views, and this dissent was expressed in an +article in the "Prospective Review," written by her own brother, James +Martineau. Mrs. Chapman now makes known, what has hitherto been only +a matter of conjecture, that this review gave such serious offense +to Miss Martineau that she from that time refused to recognize her +brother or to have any further communication with him. Mrs. Chapman, +who seldom or never finds her heroine in the wrong, justifies and +approves her conduct also here, quoting a passage from the review in +support of Miss Martineau's conduct in treating her brother as one of +"the defamers of old times whom she must never again meet." In this +passage Mr. Martineau only expresses his profound grief that his sister +should sit at the feet of such a master as Mr. Atkinson, and lay down +at his bidding her early faith in moral obligation, in the living God, +in the immortal sanctities. He calls this "an inversion of the natural +order of nobleness," implying that Mr. Atkinson ought to have sat at +her feet instead; and, turning to the review itself, we find this the +only passage in which a single word is said which could be regarded as +a censure on Miss Martineau. But Mr. Atkinson is indeed handled with +some severity. His language is criticised, and his logic is proved +fallacious. Much the largest part of the review is, however, devoted to +a refutation of his philosophy and doctrines. Now, as so large a part +of the "Letters" is pervaded with denunciations of the bigotry which +will not hear the other side of a question, and filled with admiration +of those who prefer truth to the ties of kindred, friendship, and old +association, we should have thought that Miss Martineau would rejoice +in having a brother who could say, "Amica Harriet, sed magis amica +veritas." Not at all. It was evident that he had said nothing about +herself at which she could take offense; but in speaking against +her new philosophy and her new philosopher he had committed the +unpardonable sin. And Mrs. Chapman allows herself to regard it as a +natural inference that this honest and manly review resulted from +"masculine terror, fraternal jealousy of superiority, with a sectarian +and provincial impulse to pull down and crush a world-wide celebrity." +She considers it "incomprehensible in an advocate of free thought" that +he should express his thoughts freely in opposition to a book which +argued against all possible knowledge of God and against all faith in +a future life. It is, however, only just to Miss Martineau to say that +she herself has brought no such charges against her brother, but left +the matter in silence. We cannot but think that it would have been +better for Miss Martineau's reputation if her biographer had followed +her example. + +But, though we must object to Mrs. Chapman's views on this point, and +on some others, we must add that her part of the second volume is +prepared with much ability, and is evidently the result of diligent +and loyal friendship. Miss Martineau could not have selected a more +faithful friend to whom to confide the history of her life. On two +subjects, however, we are obliged to dissent from her statements. +One is in regard to Dr. Channing, whom she, for some unknown reason, +systematically disparages. He was a good man, Mrs. Chapman admits, +"but not in any sense a great one. With benevolent intentions, he +could not greatly help the nineteenth century, for he knew very little +about it, or, indeed, of any other. He had neither insight, courage, +nor firmness. In his own Church had sprung up a vigorous opposition to +slavery, which he innocently, in so far as ignorantly, used the little +strength he had to stay." Certainly it is not necessary to defend the +memory of Dr. Channing against such a supercilious judgment as this. +But we might well ask why, if he is not a great man, and did not help +the nineteenth century, his works should continue to be circulated all +over Europe? Why should such men in France as Laboulaye and Rmusat +occupy themselves in translating and diffusing them? Why should +Bunsen class him among the five prophets of the Divine Consciousness +in Human History,--speaking of "his fearless speech," his "unfailing +good sense," and "his grandeur of soul, which makes him a prophet +of the Christianity of the Future"? Bunsen calls him a Greek in his +manly nature, a Roman in his civic qualities, and an apostle in his +Christianity. And was that man deficient in courage or firmness who +never faltered in the support of any opinions, however unpopular, +whether it was to defend Unitarianism in its weak beginnings, to appear +in Faneuil Hall as the leader against the defenders of the Alton mob, +to head the petition for the pardon of Abner Kneeland, and to lay on +the altar of antislavery the fame acquired by past labors? Is he to be +accused of repressing the antislavery movement in his own church, when +there is on record the letter in which he advocated giving the use of +the church building to the society represented by Mrs. Chapman herself; +and when the men of influence in his society refused it? Nor, in those +days of their unpopularity, did Mrs. Chapman and her friends count +Dr. Channing's aid so insignificant. In her article on "The Martyr +Age," Miss Martineau describes the profound impression caused by Dr. +Channing's sudden appearance in the State House to give his countenance +and aid to Garrison and the Abolitionists, in what, she says, was a +matter to them of life and death. And she adds, "He was thenceforth +considered by the world an accession to their principles, though not to +their organized body." + +Nor do we quite understand Mrs. Chapman's giving to Miss Martineau +the credit of being the cause of the petition for the pardon of Abner +Kneeland; as his conviction, and the consequent petition, did not take +place until she had been nearly two years out of the country. And why +does Mrs. Chapman select for special contempt, as unfaithful to their +duty to mankind, the Unitarian ministers? Why does she speak of "the +cowardly ranks of American Unitarians" with such peculiar emphasis? It +is not our business here to defend this denomination; but we cannot +but recall the "Protest against American Slavery" prepared and signed +in 1845 by one hundred and seventy-three Unitarian ministers, out of +a body containing not more than two hundred and fifty in all. And it +was this body which furnished to the cause some of its most honored +members. Of those who have belonged to the Unitarian body, we now +recall the names of such persons as Samuel J. May, Samuel May, Josiah +Quincy, John Quincy Adams, John Pierpont, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray +Loring, John G. Palfrey, John P. Hale, Dr. and Mrs. Follen, Theodore +Parker, John Parkman, John T. Sargent, James Russell Lowell, Wm. H. +Furness, Charles Sumner, Caleb Stetson, John A. Andrew, Lydia Maria +Child, Dr. S. G. Howe, Horace Mann, T. W. Higginson. So much for the +"cowardly ranks of American Unitarians." + +The last years of Miss Martineau were happy and peaceful. She had a +pleasant home at Ambleside, on Lake Windermere. She had many friends, +was conscious of having done a good work, and if she had no hopes in +the hereafter, neither had she any fears concerning it. She was a +strong, upright, true-hearted woman; one of those who have helped to +vindicate "the right of women to learn the alphabet." + + + + +THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA[48] + + +On the first day of January, 1832, when the American Antislavery +Society was formed in the office of Samuel E. Sewall in Boston, the +abolition of slavery through any such agency seemed impossible. Almost +all the great interests of the country were combined to defend and +sustain the system. The capital invested in slaves amounted to at +least one thousand millions of dollars. This vast pecuniary interest +was rapidly increasing by the growing demand for the cotton crop +of the Southern States--a demand which continually overlapped the +supply. The whole political power of the thirteen slave States was in +the hands of the slaveholders. No white man in the South, unless he +was a slaveholder, was ever elected to Congress, or to any important +political position at home. The two great parties, Whig and Democrat, +were pledged to the support of slavery in all its constitutional +rights, and vied with each other in giving to these the largest +interpretation. By a constitutional provision, which could not be +altered, the slave States had in Congress, in 1840, twenty-five more +Representatives in proportion to their number of voters than the free +States. By the cohesion of this great political and pecuniary interest +the slaveholders, though comparatively few in number, were able to +govern the nation. The Presidents, both houses of Congress, the Supreme +Court of the United States, the two great political parties, the press +of the country, the mercantile interest, and that mysterious force +which we call society, were virtually in the hands of the slaveholders. +Whenever their privileges were attacked, all these powers rallied to +their defense. Public opinion, in the highest circles of society and in +the lowest, was perfectly agreed on this one question. The saloons of +the Fifth Avenue and the mob of the Five Points were equally loyal to +the sacred cause of slavery. Thus all the great powers which control +free states were combined for its defense; and the attempt to assail +this institution might justly be regarded as madness. In fact, all +danger seemed so remote, that even so late as 1840 it was common for +slaveholders to admit that property in man was an absurdity and an +injustice. The system itself was so secure, that they could afford to +concede its principle to their opponents. Just as men formerly fought +duels as a matter of course, while frankly admitting that it was wrong +to do so,--just as at the present time we concede that war is absurd +and unchristian, but yet go to war continually, because we know no +other way of settling international disputes,--so the slaveholders used +to say, "Slavery is wrong; we know that: but how is it to be abolished? +What can we do about it?" + +Such was the state of things in the United States less than half a +century ago. On one side was an enormous pecuniary interest, vast +political power, the weight of the press, an almost unanimous public +opinion, the necessities of commerce, the authority of fashion, the +teachings of nearly every denomination in the Christian church, and the +moral obligations attributed to the sacred covenants of the fathers of +the Republic. On the other side there were only a few voices crying in +the wilderness, "It is unjust to claim property in man." The object of +the work before us is to show how, after the slave power had reached +this summit of influence, it lost it all in a single generation; how, +less by the zeal of its opponents than by the madness of its defenders, +this enormous fabric of oppression was undermined and overthrown; and +how, in a few years, the insignificant handful of antislavery people +brought to their side the great majority of the nation. + +Certainly a work which should do justice to such a history would be +one of the most interesting books ever written. For in this series of +events everything was involved which touches most nearly the mind, the +conscience, the imagination, and the heart of man. How many radical +problems in statesmanship, in political economy, in ethics, in +philosophy, in theology, in history, in science, came up for discussion +during this long controversy! What pathetic stories of suffering, what +separation of families, what tales of torture, what cruelty grown into +a custom, what awful depths of misery, came continually to light, as +though the judgment-day were beginning to dawn on the dark places of +the earth! What romances of adventure, what stories of courage and +endurance, of ingenuity in contrivance, of determination of soul, were +listened to by breathless audiences as related by the humble lips +of the fugitives from bondage! How trite and meagre became all the +commonplaces of oratory before the flaming eloquence of these terrible +facts! How tame grew all the conventional rhetoric of pulpit and +platform, by the side of speech vitalized by the immediate presence of +this majestic argument! The book which should reproduce the antislavery +history of those thirty years would possess an unimagined charm. + +We cannot say that Mr. Wilson's volumes do all this, nor had we any +right to expect it. He proposes to himself nothing of the sort. What +he gives us is, however, of very great value. It is a very carefully +collected, clearly arranged, and accurate account of the rise and +progress, decline and catastrophe, of slavery in the United States. +Mr. Wilson does not attempt to be philosophical like Bancroft and +Draper; nor are his pages as picturesque as are those of Motley and +Carlyle. He tells us a plain unvarnished tale, the interest of which +is to be found in the statement of the facts exactly as they occurred. +Considering that it is a story of events all of which he saw and a +large part of which he was, there is a singular absence of prejudice. +He is no man's enemy. He has passed through the fire, and there is no +smell of smoke on his garments. An intelligent indignation against +the crimes committed in defense of the system he describes pervades +his narrative. His impartiality is not indifference, but an absence +of personal rancor. Individuals and their conduct are criticised only +so far as is necessary to make clear the course of events and the +condition of public feeling. The defenders of slavery at the North and +South are regarded not as bad men, but as the outcome of a bad system. + +Mr. Wilson's book is a treasury of facts, and will never be superseded +so far as this peculiar value is concerned. In this respect it somewhat +resembles Hildreth's "History of the United States." Taking little +space for speculation, comment, or picturesque coloring, there is all +the more room left for the steady flow of the narrative. + +With a few unimportant omissions, the two volumes now published +contain a full history of slavery and antislavery from the Ordinance +of 1787 and the compromises of the Constitution down to the election +of Lincoln and the outbreak of the civil war. As a work of reference +they are invaluble, for each event in the long struggle for freedom +is distinctly and accurately told, while the calm story advances +through its various stages. Instead of following this narrative in +detail, which our space will not allow, we prefer to call our readers' +attention to some of the more striking incidents of this great +revolution. + +Our fathers, when they founded the nation, had little thought that +slavery was ever to attain such vast extension. They supposed that it +would gradually die out from the South, as it had disappeared from +the North. Yet the whole danger to their work lay here. Slavery, if +anything, was the wedge which was to split the Union asunder. When the +Constitution was formed, in 1787, the slaveholders, by dint of great +effort, succeeded in getting the little end of the wedge inserted. +It was very narrow, a mere sharp line, and it went in only a very +little way; so it seemed to be nothing at all. The slaveholders +at that time did not contend that slavery was right or good. They +admitted that it was a political evil. They confessed, many of them, +that it was a moral evil. All the great Southern revolutionary bodies +had accustomed themselves to believe in the rights of man, in the +principles of humanity, in the blessings of liberty; and they could +not _defend_ slavery. Mason of Virginia, in the debates in the Federal +Convention, denounced slavery and the slave-trade. "The evil of +slavery," said he, "affects the whole Union. Slavery discourages arts +and manufactures. The poor despise labor when done by slaves. They +prevent the immigration of whites, who really enrich a country. They +produce the most pernicious effects on the manners. Every master of +slaves is born a petty tyrant. They bring the judgment of Heaven on a +country." Williamson of North Carolina declared himself in principle +and practice opposed to slavery. Madison "thought it wrong to admit +in the Constitution the idea that there could be property in man." +But the extreme Southern States, South Carolina and Georgia, insisted +on the right of importing slaves, at least for a little while; and so +they were allowed to import them for twenty years. They also insisted +on having their slaves represented by themselves in Congress, and so +they were allowed to count three fifths of the slaves in determining +the ratio. This seemed a small thing, but it was the entering of the +wedge. It was tolerating the principle of slavery; not admitting it, +but tolerating it. At the same time that this Convention was forming, +the Federal Constitution Congress was prohibiting slavery in all the +territory northwest of the Ohio. This prohibition of slavery was +adopted by the unanimous votes of the eight States present, including +Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia. Two years later it was recognized +and confirmed by the first Congress under the Constitution. Jefferson, +a commissioner to revise the statute law of Virginia, prepared a +bill for gradual emancipation in that State. In 1790 a petition was +presented to Congress, signed by Benjamin Franklin, the last public act +of his life, declaring equal liberty to be the birthright of all, and +asking Congress to "devise means for restoring liberty to the slaves, +and so removing this inconsistency from the character of the American +people." In 1804 the people of Virginia petitioned Congress to have +the Ordinance of 1787 suspended, that they might hold slaves; but a +committee of Congress, of which John Randolph of Virginia was chairman, +reported that it would be "highly dangerous and inexpedient to impair a +provision wisely calculated to promote the happiness and prosperity of +the Northwest Territory." + +But in 1820 the first heavy blow came on the wedge to drive it into the +log. The Union is a tough log, and the wedge could be driven a good way +in without splitting it; but the first blow which drove it in was the +adopting the Missouri Compromise, allowing slavery to come North and +take possession of Missouri. + +The thirty years of prosperity which had followed the adoption of the +Constitution had changed the feelings of men both North and South. The +ideas of the Revolution had receded into the background; the thirst +for wealth and power had taken their place. So the Southern States, +which had cordially agreed thirty years before to prohibit the +extension of slavery, and had readily admitted it to be a political +evil, now demanded as a right the privilege of carrying slaves into +Missouri. They threatened to dissolve the Union, talked of a fire only +to be extinguished by seas of blood, and proposed to hang a member +from New Hampshire who spoke of liberty. Some of the Northern men +were not frightened by these threats, and valued them at their real +worth. But we know that the result was a compromise. Slavery was to +take possession of Missouri, on condition that no other State as far +north as Missouri should be slave-holding. Slavery was to be excluded +from the rest of the territory forever. This bargain was applauded and +justified by Southern politicians and newspapers as a great triumph +on their part; and it was. That fatal compromise was a surrender of +principle for the sake of peace, bartering conscience for quiet; and we +were soon to reap the bitter fruits. + +Face to face, in deadly opposition, each determined on the total +destruction of his antagonist, stood this Goliath of the slave power +and the little David of antislavery, at the beginning of the ten years +which extended from 1830 to 1840. The giant was ultimately to fall +from the wounds of his minute opponent, but not during this decade or +the next. For many years each of the parties was growing stronger, +and the fight was growing fiercer. Organization on the one side was +continually becoming more powerful; enthusiasm on the other continually +built up a more determined opinion. The slave power won repeated +victories; but every victory increased the number and ardor of its +opponents. + +The first attempt to destroy antislavery principles was by means of +mobs. Mobs seldom take place in a community unless where the upper +stratum of society and the lower are in sympathetic opposition to +some struggling minority. Then the lower class takes its convictions +from the higher, and regards itself as the hand executing what the +head thinks ought to be done. Respectability denounces the victim, +and the rabble hastens to take vengeance on him. Even a mob cannot +act efficiently unless inspired by ideas; and these it must receive +from some higher source. So it was when Priestley was mobbed at +Birmingham; so it was when Wesley and his friends were mobbed in +all parts of England. So it was also in America when the office of +the "Philanthropist" was destroyed in Cincinnati; when halls and +churches were burned in Philadelphia; when Miss Crandall was mobbed in +Connecticut; when Lovejoy was killed at Alton. Antislavery meetings +were so often invaded by rioters, that on one occasion Stephen S. +Foster is reported to have declared that the speakers were not doing +their duty, because the people listened so quietly. "If we were doing +our duty," said he, "they would be throwing brick-bats at us." + +These demonstrations only roused and intensified the ardor of the +Abolitionists, while bringing to their side those who loved fair play, +and those in whom the element of battle was strong. Mobs also were an +excellent advertisement for the Antislavery Society; and this is what +every new cause needs most for its extension. Every time that one of +their meetings was violently broken up, every time that any outrage +or injury was offered to the Abolitionists, all the newspapers in the +land gave them a gratuitous advertisement by conspicuous notices of the +event. So the public mind was directed to the question, and curiosity +was excited. The antislavery conventions were more crowded from day to +day, their journals were more in demand, and their plans and opinions +became the subject of conversation everywhere. + +And certainly there could be no more interesting place to visit than +one of these meetings of the Antislavery Society. With untiring +assiduity the Abolitionists brought to their platform everything which +could excite and impress their audience. Their orators were of every +kind,--rough men and shrill-voiced women, polished speakers from the +universities, stammering fugitives from slavery, philosophers and +fanatics, atheists and Christian ministers, wise men who had been made +mad by oppression, and babes in intellect to whom God had revealed +some of the noblest truths. They murdered the King's English, they +uttered glaring fallacies, the blows aimed at evildoers often glanced +aside and hit good men. Invective was, perhaps, the too frequent +staple of their argument, and any difference of opinion would be apt +to turn their weapons against each other. This church-militant often +became a church-termagant. Yet, after all such abatement for errors of +judgment or bad taste, their meetings were a splendid arena on which +was fought one of the greatest battles for mankind. The eloquence +we heard there was not of the schools, and had nothing artificial +about it. It followed the rule of Demosthenes, and was all directed +to action. Every word was a blow. There was no respect for dignities +or authorities. The Constitution of the United States, the object of +such unfeigned idolatry to the average American, was denounced as +"a covenant with hell." The great men of the nation, Webster, Clay, +Jackson, were usually selected as the objects of the severest censure. +The rule was to strike at the heads which rose above the crowd, as +deserving the sternest condemnation. Presidents and governors, heads of +universities, eminent divines, great churches and denominations, were +convicted as traitors to the right, or held up to unsparing ridicule. +No conventional proprieties were regarded in the terrible earnestness +of this enraged speech. It was like the lava pouring from the depths +of the earth, and melting the very rocks which opposed its resistless +course. + +Of course this fierce attack roused as fierce a defense. One extreme +generated the other. The cry for "immediate abolition" was answered by +labored defenses of slavery itself. Formerly its advocates only excused +it as a necessary evil; now they began to defend it as a positive good. +Then was seen the lamentable sight of Christian ministers and respected +divines hurrying to the support of the "sum of all villanies." The +Episcopal bishop of a New England State defended with ardor the system +of slavery as an institution supported by the Bible and commanded by +God himself. The president of a New England college declared slavery to +be a positive institution of revealed religion, and not inconsistent +with the law of love. The minister of a Boston church, going to the +South for his health, amused his leisure by writing a book on slavery, +in which it is made to appear as a rose-colored and delightful +institution, and its opposers are severely censured. One of the most +learned professors in a Massachusetts theological school composed a +treatise to refute the heresy of the higher law, and to maintain the +duty of returning fugitive slaves to bondage. Under such guidance it +was natural that the churches should generally stand aloof from the +Abolitionists and condemn their course. It was equally natural that +the Abolitionists should then denounce the churches as the bulwark of +slavery. Nevertheless, from the Christian body came most of those who +devoted their lives to the extirpation of this great evil and iniquity. +And Mr. Garrison, at least, always maintained that his converts were +most likely to be made among those whose consciences had been educated +by the Church and the Bible. + +From public meetings in the North, the conflict of ideas next extended +itself to the floor of Congress, where it continued to rage during +nearly thirty years, until "the war of tongue and pen" changed to +that of charging squadrons, the storm of shot and the roll of cannon. +The question found its way into the debates of Congress in the form +of petitions for the abolition of slavery and the slave-trade in the +District of Columbia. If the slaveholders had allowed these petitions +to be received and referred, taking no notice of them, it seems +probable that no important results would have followed. But, blinded by +rage and fear, they opposed their reception, thus denying a privilege +belonging to all mankind,--that of asking the government to redress +their grievances. Then came to the front a man already eminent by his +descent, his great attainments, his long public service, his great +position, and his commanding ability. John Quincy Adams, after having +been President of the United States, accepted a seat in the House of +Representatives, and was one of the most laborious and useful of +its members. He was not then an Abolitionist, nor in favor even of +abolishing slavery in the District of Columbia. But he believed that +the people had the right to petition the government for anything they +desired, and that their respectful petitions should be respectfully +received. Sixty-five years old in 1832, when he began this conflict, +his warfare with the slave power ended only when, struck with death +while in his seat, he saw the last of earth and was content. With what +energy, what dauntless courage, what untiring industry, what matchless +powers of argument, what inexhaustible resources of knowledge, he +pursued his object, the future historian of the struggle who can fully +paint what Mr. Wilson is only able to indicate, will take pleasure in +describing. One scene will remain forever memorable as one of the most +striking triumphs of human oratory; and this we must describe a little +more fully. + +February 6, 1837, being the day for presenting petitions, Mr. Adams had +already presented several petitions for the abolition of slavery in the +District of Columbia (a measure to which he was himself then opposed), +when he proceeded to state[49] that he had in his possession a paper +upon which he wished the decision of the Speaker. The paper, he said, +came from twenty persons declaring themselves to be slaves. He wished +to know whether the Speaker would consider this paper as coming under +the rule of the House.[50] The Chair said he would take the advice of +the House on that question. And thereupon began a storm of indignation +which raged around Mr. Adams during four days.[51] Considering that +the House had ordered, less than three weeks before, that all papers +relating _in any way_ to slavery should be laid on the table without +any action being taken on them, this four days' discussion about such +a paper, ending in the passing of several resolutions, was rather an +amusing illustration of the irrepressible character of the antislavery +movement. The Southern members seemed at first astonished at what they +hastily assumed to be an attempt of Mr. Adams to introduce a petition +from slaves. One moved that it be not received. Another, indignant +at such a tame way of meeting the question, declared that any one +attempting to introduce such a petition should be immediately punished; +and if that was not done at once, all the members from the slave States +should leave the House. Loud cries arose, "Expel him! expel him!" +Mr. Alfred declared that the petition ought to be burned. Mr. Waddy +Thompson of South Carolina, who soon received a castigation which he +little anticipated, moved that John Quincy Adams, having committed a +gross disrespect to the House in attempting to introduce a petition +from slaves, ought to be instantly brought to the bar of the House +to receive the severe censure of the Speaker. Similar resolutions +were offered by Mr. Haynes and Mr. Lewis, all assuming that Mr. Adams +had attempted to introduce this petition. He at last took the floor, +and said that he thought the time of the House was being consumed +needlessly, since all these resolutions were founded on an error. He +had _not_ attempted to present the petition,--he had only asked the +Speaker a question in regard to it. He also advised the member from +Alabama to amend his resolution, which stated the petition to be for +the abolition of slavery in the District, whereas it was the very +reverse of that. It was a petition for something which would be very +objectionable to himself, though it might be the very thing for which +the gentleman from Alabama was contending. Then Mr. Adams sat down, +leaving his opponents more angry than ever, but somewhat confused in +their minds. They could not very well censure him for doing what he +had not done, but they wished very much to censure him. So Mr. Waddy +Thompson modified his resolution, making it state that Mr. Adams, "by +creating the impression, and leaving the House under the impression, +that the petition was for the abolition of slavery," had trifled with +the House, and should receive its censure. After a multitude of other +speeches from the enraged Southern chivalry, the debate of the first +day came to an end. + +On the next day (February 7), in reply to a question, Mr. Adams stated +again that he had not attempted to present the petition, though his +own feelings would have led him to do so, but had kept it in his +possession, out of respect to the House. He had said nothing to lead +the House to infer that this petition was for the abolition of slavery. +He should consider before presenting a petition from slaves; though, +in his opinion, slaves had a right to petition, and the mere fact of +a petition being from slaves would not of itself prevent him from +presenting it. If the petition were a proper one, he should present +it. A petition was a prayer, a supplication to a superior being. +Slaves might pray to God; was this House so superior that it could not +condescend to hear a prayer from those to whom the Almighty listened? +He ended by saying that, in asking the question of the Speaker, he had +intended to show the greatest respect to the House, and had not the +least purpose of trifling with it. + +These brief remarks of Mr. Adams made it necessary for the slaveholders +again to change their tactics. Mr. Dromgoole of Virginia now brought +forward his famous resolution, which Mr. Adams afterwards made so +ridiculous, accusing him of having "given color to an idea" that +slaves had a right to petition, and that he should be censured by +the Speaker for this act. Another member proposed, rather late in the +day, that a committee be appointed to inquire whether any attempt had +been made, or not, to offer a petition from slaves. Another offered a +series of resolutions, declaring that if any one "hereafter" should +offer petitions from slaves he ought to be regarded as an enemy of the +South, and of the Union; but that "as John Quincy Adams had stated +that he meant no disrespect to the House, that all proceedings as to +his conduct should now cease." And so, after many other speeches, the +second day's debate came to an end. + +The next day was set apart to count the votes for President, and so +the debate was resumed February 9. It soon become more confused than +ever. Motions were made to lay the resolutions on the table; they were +withdrawn; they were renewed; they were voted down; and, finally, after +much discussion, and when at last the final question was about being +taken, Mr. Adams inquired whether he was to be allowed to be heard in +his own defense before being condemned. So he obtained the floor, and +immediately the whole aspect of the case was changed. During three days +he had been the prisoner at the bar; suddenly he became the judge on +the bench. Never, in the history of forensic eloquence, has a single +speech effected a greater change in the purpose of a deliberative +assembly. Often as the Horatian description has been quoted of the +just man, tenacious of his purpose, who fears not the rage of citizens +clamoring for what is wrong, it has never found a fitter application +than to the unshaken mind of John Quincy Adams, standing alone, in the +midst of his antagonists, like a solid monument which the idle storms +beat against in vain. + +He began by saying that he had been waiting during these three days +for an answer to the question which he had put to the Speaker, and +which the Speaker had put to the House, but which the House had not +yet answered, namely, whether the paper he held in his hand came under +the rule of the House or not. They had discussed everything else, but +had not answered that question. They had wasted the time of the House +in considering how they could censure him for doing what he had not +done. All he wished to know was, whether a petition from slaves should +be received or not. He himself thought that it ought to be received; +but if the House decided otherwise, he should not present it. Only one +gentleman had undertaken to discuss that question, and his argument +was, that if slavery was abolished by Congress in any State, the +Constitution was violated; and, _therefore_, slaves ought not to be +allowed to petition for anything. He, Mr. Adams, was unable to see the +connection between the premises and the conclusion. + +Hereupon poor Mr. French, the author of this argument, tried to +explain what he meant by it, but left his meaning as confused as before. + +Then Mr. Adams added, that if you deprived any one in the community of +the right of petition, which was only the right of offering a prayer, +you would find it difficult to know where to stop; one gentleman had +objected to the reception of one petition, because offered by women of +a bad character. Mr. Patton of Virginia says he _knows_ that one of the +names is of a woman of a bad character. _How does he know it?_ + +Hereupon Mr. Patton explained that he did not himself know the woman, +but had been told that her character was not good. + +So, said Mr. Adams, you first deny the right of petition to slaves, +then to free people of color, and then you inquire into the moral +character of a petitioner before you receive his petition. The next +step will be to inquire into the political belief of the petitioners +before you receive your petition. Mr. Robertson of Virginia had said +that no petitions ought to be received for an object which Congress +had no power to grant. Mr. Adams replied, with much acuteness, that +on most questions the right of granting the petition might be in +doubt: a majority must decide that point; it would therefore follow, +from Mr. Robertson's rule, that no one had a right to petition unless +he belonged to the predominant party. Mr. Adams then turned to Mr. +Dromgoole, who had charged him with the remarkable crime of "giving +color to an idea," and soon made that Representative of the Old +Dominion appear very ridiculous. + +Mr. Adams then proceeded to rebuke, with dignity but severity, the +conduct of those who had proposed to censure him without any correct +knowledge of the facts of the case. His criticisms had the effect +of compelling these gentlemen to excuse themselves and to offer +various explanations of their mistakes. These assailants suddenly +found themselves in an attitude of self-defense. Mr. Adams graciously +accepted their explanations, advising them in future to be careful when +they undertook to offer resolutions of censure. He then informed Mr. +Waddy Thompson of South Carolina that he had one or two questions to +put to him. By this time it had become a pretty serious business to +receive the attentions of Mr. Adams; and Mr. Waddy Thompson immediately +rose to explain. But Mr. Adams asked him to wait until he had fully +stated the question which Mr. Thompson was to answer. This Southern +statesman had threatened the ex-President of the United States with an +indictment by the grand jury of the District for words spoken in debate +in the House of Representatives, and had added that, if the petition +was presented, Mr. Adams would be sent to the penitentiary. "Sir," +said Mr. Adams, "the only answer I make to such a threat from that +gentleman is, to invite him, when he returns to his constituents, to +study a little the first principles of civil liberty." He then called +on the gentlemen from the slave States to say how many of them indorsed +that sentiment. "_I_ do not," said Mr. Underwood of Kentucky. "_I_ do +not," said Mr. Wise of Virginia. Mr. Thompson was compelled to attempt +another explanation, and said he meant that, in _South Carolina_, any +member of the legislature who should present a petition from slaves +could be indicted. "Then," replied Mr. Adams, and this produced a great +sensation, "if it is the law of South Carolina that members of her +Legislature may be indicted by juries for words spoken in debate, God +Almighty receive my thanks that I am not a citizen of South Carolina." + +Mr. Adams ended his speech by declaring that the honor of the +House of Representatives was always regarded by him as a sacred +sentiment, and that he should feel a censure from that House as the +heaviest misfortune of a long life, checkered as it had been by many +vicissitudes. + +When Mr. Adams began his defense, not only was a large majority of +the House opposed to his course, but they had brought themselves by +a series of violent harangues into a condition of bitter excitement +against him. When he ended, the effect of this extraordinary speech +was such, that all the resolutions were rejected, and out of the whole +House only twenty-two members could be found to pass a vote of even +indirect censure. The victory was won, and won by Mr. Adams almost +single-handed. We count Horatius Cocles a hero for holding the Roman +bridge against a host of enemies; but greater honors belong to him +who successfully defends against overwhelming numbers the ancient +safeguards of public liberty. For this reason we have repeated here at +such length the story of three days, which the people of the United +States ought always to remember. It took ten years to accomplish the +actual repeal of these gag-laws. But the main work was done when the +right of speech was obtained for the friends of freedom in Congress; +and John Quincy Adams was the great leader in this warfare. He was +joined on that arena by other noble champions,--Giddings, Mann, +Palfrey, John P. Hale, Chase, Seward, Slade of Vermont, Julian of +Indiana. Others no less devoted followed them, among whom came from +Massachusetts Charles Sumner and Henry Wilson, the author of the +present work. What he cannot properly say of himself should be said +for him. Though an accomplished and eager politician, Henry Wilson has +never sacrificed any great principle for the sake of political success. +His services to the antislavery cause have been invaluable, his labors +in that cause unremitting. Personal feelings and personal interests he +has been ready to sacrifice for the sake of the cause. Loyal to his +friends, he has not been bitter to his opponents; and if any man who +fought through that long struggle were to be its historian, no one will +deny the claims of Mr. Wilson to that honor. + +Under the lead of John Quincy Adams, the power to discuss the whole +subject of slavery in the National Legislature was won, and never +again lost. This was the second triumph of the antislavery movement; +its first was the power won by Garrison and his friends of discussing +the subject before the people. The wolfish mob in the cities and in +Congress might continue to howl, but it had lost its claws and teeth. +But now came the first great triumph of the slave power, in the +annexation of Texas. This was a cruel blow to the friends of freedom. +It was more serious because the motive of annexation was openly +announced, and the issue distinctly presented in the Presidential +election. Mr. Upshur, Tyler's Secretary of State, in an official +dispatch, declared that the annexation of Texas was necessary to secure +the institution of slavery. The Democratic Convention which nominated +Mr. Polk for the Presidency deliberately made the annexation of Texas +the leading feature of its platform. Nor was the slave power in this +movement opposed merely by the antislavery feeling of the country. +Southern senators helped to defeat the measure when first presented in +the form of a treaty by Mr. Tyler's administration. Nearly the whole +Whig party was opposed to it. The candidate of the Whigs, Henry Clay, +had publicly declared that annexation would be a great evil to the +nation. Twenty members of Congress, with John Quincy Adams at their +head, had proclaimed in an address to their constituents that it would +be equivalent to a dissolution of the Union. Dr. Channing, in 1838, had +said that it would be better for the nation to perish than to commit +such an outrageous wrong. Edward Everett, in 1837, spoke of annexation +as "an enormous crime." Whig and Democratic legislatures had repeatedly +denounced it. In 1843, when the Democrats had a majority in the +Massachusetts legislature, they resolved that "under no circumstances +whatever" could the people of Massachusetts approve of annexation. +Martin Van Buren opposed it as unjust to Mexico. Senator Benton, though +previously in favor of the measure, in a speech in Missouri declared +that the object of those who were favoring the scheme was to dissolve +the Union, though he afterward came again to its support. And yet when +the Presidential campaign was in progress, a Democratic torchlight +procession miles long was seen marching through the streets of Boston, +and flaunting the lone star of Texas along its whole line. And when +Polk was elected, and the decision of the nation virtually given for +this scheme, it seemed almost hopeless to contend longer against such +a triumph of slavery. If the people of the North could submit to this +outrage, it appeared as if they could submit to anything. + +Such, however, was not the case. On one side the slave power was +greatly strengthened by the admission of Texas to the Union as a slave +State; but, on the other hand, there came a large accession to the +antislavery body. And this continued to be the case during many years. +The slave power won a succession of political victories, each of which +was a moral victory to its opponents. Many who were not converted to +antislavery by the annexation of Texas in 1845 were brought over by +the defeat of the Wilmot Proviso and the passage of the Fugitive Slave +Law in 1850. Many who were not alarmed by these successes of slavery +were convinced of the danger when they beheld the actual working of +the Fugitive Slave Act. How many Boston gentlemen, before opposed to +the Abolitionists, were brought suddenly to their side when they saw +the Court House in chains, and were prevented by soldiers guarding +Anthony Burns from going to their banks or insurance offices in State +Street! All those bitter hours of defeat and disaster planted the seeds +of a greater harvest for freedom. Others who remained insensible to +the disgrace of the slave laws of 1850 were recruited to the ranks of +freedom by the repeal of the Missouri Compromise in 1854. This last +act, Mr. Wilson justly says, did more than any other to arouse the +North, and convince it of the desperate encroachments of slavery. Men +who tamely acquiesced in _this_ great wrong were startled into moral +life by the murderous assault on Charles Sumner by Preston Brooks in +1856. Those who could submit to this were roused by the border ruffians +from Missouri who invaded Kansas, and made the proslavery Constitution +for that State. The Dred Scott decision in 1857, which declared slavery +to be no local institution, limited to a single part of the land, but +having a right to exist in the free States under the Constitution, +alarmed even those who had been insensible to the previous aggressions +of slavery. This series of political successes of the slave power was +appalling. Every principle of liberty, every restraint on despotism, +was overthrown in succession, until the whole power of the nation had +fallen into the hands of an oligarchy of between three and four hundred +thousand slaveholders. But every one of their political victories was a +moral defeat; every access to their strength as an organization added +an immense force to the public opinion opposed to them; and each of +their successes was responded to by some advance of the antislavery +movement. The annexation of Texas in 1845 was answered by the +appearance of John P. Hale, in 1847, in the United States Senate,--the +first man who was elected to that body on distinctly antislavery +grounds and independent of either of the great parties. The response +to the defeat of the Wilmot Proviso and passage of the Fugitive Slave +Law in 1850 was the election of Charles Sumner to the Senate in April, +1851, and the establishment of the underground railroad in all the +free States. When the South abrogated the Missouri Compromise, the +North replied by the initiation of the Republican party. The Kansas +outrages gave to freedom John Brown of Osawatomie. And the answer to +the Dred Scott decision was the nomination of Abraham Lincoln. Till +that moment the forces of freedom and slavery had stood opposed, like +two great armies, each receiving constant recruits and an acccession of +new power. On one side, hitherto, had been all the political triumphs, +and on the other all the moral. But with this first great political +success of their opponents the slave power became wholly demoralized, +gave up the conflict, threw away the results of all its former +victories, and abandoned the field to its enemies, plunging into the +dark abyss of secession and civil war. + +And yet, what was the issue involved in that election? It was simply +whether slavery should or should not be extended into new Territories. +All that the Republican party demanded was that slavery should not be +extended. It did not dream of abolishing slavery in the slave States. +We remember how, long after the war began, we refused to do this. The +Southerners had every guaranty they could desire that they should not +be interfered with at home. If they had gracefully acquiesced in the +decision of the majority, their institution might have flourished for +another century. The Fugitive Slave Law would have been repealed; or, +at all events, trial by jury would have been given to the man claimed +as a fugitive. But no attempt would have been made by the Republican +party to interfere with slavery in the slave States, for that party did +not believe it had the right so to do. + +But, in truth, the course of the Southern leaders illustrated in a +striking way the distinction between a politician and a statesman. They +were very acute politicians, trained in all the tactics of their art; +but they were poor statesmen, incapable of any large strategic plan +of action. As statesmen, they should have made arrangements for the +gradual abolition of slavery, as an institution incapable of sustaining +itself in civilized countries in the nineteenth century. Or, if they +wished to maintain it as long as possible, they ought to have seen +that this could only be accomplished by preserving the support of +the interests and the public opinion of the North. Alliance with the +Northern States was their only security; and, therefore, they ought to +have kept the Northern conscience on their side by a loyal adherence to +all compacts and covenants. Instead of this, they contrived to outrage, +one by one, every feeling of honor, every sentiment of duty, and every +vested right of the free States, until, at last, it became plain to all +that it was an "irrepressible conflict," and must be settled definitely +either for slavery or for freedom. When this point was reached by the +American people, they saw also that it could not be settled in favor +of slavery, for no concession would satisfy the slaveholders, and no +contract these might make could be depended on. The North gave them, in +1850, the Fugitive Slave Law for the sake of peace. Did it gain peace? +No. It relinquished, for the sake of peace, the Wilmot Proviso. Was the +South satisfied? No. In 1853 Mr. Douglas offered it the Nebraska Bill. +Was it contented? By no means. Mr. Pierce and Mr. Buchanan did their +best to give it Kansas. Did they content the South by their efforts? +No. Mr. Douglas, Mr. Pierce, and Mr. Buchanan were all set aside by +the South. The Lecompton Bill was not enough. The Dred Scott decision +was not enough. The slaveholders demanded that slavery should be +established by a positive act of Congress in all the Territories of the +Union. Even Judge Douglas shrank aghast from the enterprise of giving +them such a law as that; and so Judge Douglas was immediately thrown +aside. Thus, by the folly of the Southern leaders themselves, more than +by the efforts of their opponents, the majority was obtained by the +Republicans in the election of 1860. + +But during this conflict came many very dark days for freedom. One +of these was after the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law in 1850. +That law was one of a series of compromises, intended to make a final +settlement of the question and to silence all antislavery agitation. +Although defended by great lawyers, who thought it necessary to save +the Union, there is little doubt that it was as unconstitutional as +it was cruel. The Constitution declares that "no person shall be +deprived of his liberty without due process of law," and also that +"in suits at common law, when the value in controversy shall exceed +twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved." Anthony +Burns was in full possession of his liberty; he was a self-supporting, +tax-paying citizen of Massachusetts; and in ten days, by the action of +the Fugitive Slave Law, he was turned into a slave under the decision +of a United States commissioner, without seeing a judge or a jury. +The passage of this law, and its actual enforcement, caused great +excitement among the free colored people at the North, as well as among +the fugitives from slavery. No one was safe. It was evident that it was +meant to be enforced,--it was not meant to be idle thunder. But instead +of discouraging the friends of freedom, it roused them to greater +activity. More fugitives than ever came from the slave States, and the +underground railroad was in fuller activity than before. The methods +employed by fugitives to escape were very various and ingenious. One +man was brought away in a packing-box. Another clung to the lower side +of the guard of a steamer, washed by water at every roll of the vessel. +One well-known case was that of Ellen Crafts, who came from Georgia +disguised as a young Southern gentleman, attended by her husband as +body-servant. She rode in the cars, sitting near Southerners who knew +her, but did not recognize her in this costume, and at last arrived +safe in Philadelphia. In one instance a slave escaped from Kentucky, +with all his family, walking some distance on stilts, in order to leave +no scent for the pursuing blood-hounds. When these poor people reached +the North, and told their stories on the antislavery platform, they +excited great sympathy, which was not confined to professed antislavery +people. A United States commissioner, who might be called on to return +fugitives to bondage, frequently had them concealed in his own house, +by the action of his wife, whose generous heart never wearied in this +work, and who was the means of saving many from bondage. A Democratic +United States marshal, in Boston, whose duty it was to arrest fugitive +slaves, was in the habit of telling the slave-owner who called on him +for assistance that he "did not know anything about niggers, but he +would find out where the man was from those who did." Whereupon he +would go directly to Mr. Garrison's office and tell him he wanted to +arrest such or such a man, a fugitive from slavery. "But," said he, +"curiously enough, the next thing I heard would be, that the fellow was +in Canada." And when a colored man was actually sent back to slavery, +as in the case of Burns, the event excited so much sympathy with +the fugitive, and so much horror of the law, that its effects were +disastrous to the slave power. Thomas M. Simms was arrested in Boston +as a fugitive from slavery, April 3, 1851, and was sent to slavery by +the decision of George Ticknor Curtis, a United States commissioner. +The answer to this act, by Massachusetts, was the election of Charles +Sumner, twenty-one days after, to the United States Senate. Anthony +Burns was returned to slavery by order of Edward G. Loring, in May, +1854; and Massachusetts responded by removing him from his office as +Judge of Probate, and refusing his confirmation as a professor in +Harvard University. + +The passage of what were called the compromise measures of 1850, +including the Fugitive Slave Law, had, it was fondly believed, put an +end to the whole antislavery agitation. The two great parties, Whig and +Democrat, had agreed that such should be the case. The great leaders, +Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, Cass and Buchanan, were active in +calling on the people to subdue their prejudices in favor of freedom. +Southern fire-eaters, like Toombs and Alexander Stephens, joined these +Union-savers, and became apostles of peace. Agitation was the only +evil, and agitation must now come to an end. Public meetings were held +in the large cities,--one in Castle Garden in New York, another in +Faneuil Hall in Boston. In these meetings the lion and the lamb lay +down together. Rufus Choate and Benjamin Hallet joined in demanding +that all antislavery agitation should now cease. The church was called +upon to assist in the work of Union-saving, and many leading divines +lent their aid in this attempt to silence those who desired that +the oppressed should go free, and who wished to break every yoke. +Many seemed to suppose that all antislavery agitation was definitely +suppressed. President Fillmore called the compromise measures "a final +adjustment." All the powers which control human opinion--the two great +political parties, the secular and the religious newspapers, the large +churches and popular divines, the merchants and lawyers--had agreed +that the antislavery agitation should now cease.[52] + +But just at that moment, when the darkness was the deepest, and all +the great powers in the church and state had decreed that there should +be no more said concerning American slavery, the voice of a woman broke +the silence, and American slavery became the one subject of discussion +throughout the world. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was written by Mrs. Stowe +for the "National Era," Dr. Bailey's paper in Washington. It was +intended to be a short story, running through two or three numbers of +the journal, and she was to receive a hundred dollars for writing it. +But, as she wrote, the fire burned in her soul, a great inspiration +came over her, and, not knowing what she was about to do, she moved +the hearts of two continents to their very depths. After her story +had appeared in the newspaper, she offered it as a novel to several +publishers, who refused it. Accepted at last, it had a circulation +unprecedented in the annals of literature. In eight weeks its sale had +reached one hundred thousand copies in the United States, while in +England a million copies were sold within the year. On the European +Continent the sale was immense. A single publisher in Paris issued five +editions in a few weeks, and before the end of 1852 it was translated +into Italian, Spanish, Danish, Swedish, Dutch, Flemish, German, Polish, +and Magyar. To these were afterward added translations into Portuguese, +Welsh, Russian, Arabic, and many other languages. For a time, it +stopped the publication and sale of all other works; and within a +year or two from the day when the politicians had decided that no more +should be said concerning American slavery, it had become the subject +of conversation and discussion among millions. + +"Uncle Tom's Cabin" was published in 1852. Those were very dark hours +in the great struggle for freedom. Who that shared them can ever +forget the bitterness caused by the defection of Daniel Webster, and +his 7th of March speech in 1850; by the passage of the Fugitive Slave +Law, which made the whole area of the free States a hunting-ground for +the slaveholders; and by the rejection of the Wilmot Proviso, which +abandoned all the new territory to slavery? This was followed by the +election of Franklin Pierce as President in 1852, on a platform in +which the Democratic party pledged itself to resist all agitation of +the subject of slavery in Congress or outside of it. And in December, +1853, Stephen A. Douglas introduced his Nebraska Bill, which repealed +the Missouri Compromise of 1820, and opened all the territory +heretofore secured to freedom to slaveholders and their slaves. This +offer on the part of Mr. Douglas was a voluntary bid for the support +of the slaveholders in the next Presidential election. And in spite +of all protests from the North, all resistance by Democrats as well +as their opponents, all arguments and appeals, this solemn agreement +between the North and the South was violated, and every restriction on +slavery removed. Nebraska and Kansas were organized as Territories, +and the question of slavery left to local tribunals, or what was called +"squatter sovereignty." + +The passage of this measure showed the vast political advance of the +slave power in the country, and how greatly it had corrupted the +political conscience of the nation. It also showed, to those who had +eyes, that slavery was the wedge which was to split the Union asunder. +But there were in the North many persons who still thought that danger +to the Union came rather from the _discussion_ of slavery than from +slavery itself. They supposed that if all opposition to slavery should +cease, then there would be no more danger. The Abolitionists were the +cause of all the peril; and the way to save the Union was to silence +the Abolitionists. That, however, had been tried ineffectually when +they were few and weak; and now it was too late, as these Union-savers +ought to have seen. + +Mr. Douglas and his supporters defended their cause by maintaining +that the Missouri Compromise was not a contract, but a simple act of +legislation, and they tauntingly asked, "Why, since antislavery men had +always thought that Compromise a bad thing, should they now object to +its being repealed?" Even this sophism had its effect with some, who +did not notice that Douglas's resolutions only repealed that half of +the Compromise which was favorable to freedom, while letting the other +half remain. One part of the Act of 1820 was that Missouri should be +admitted as a slave State; the other part was that all the rest of the +Territory should be forever free. Only the last part was now repealed. +Missouri was left in the Union as a slave State. + +The political advance now made by slavery will appear from the +following facts:-- + +In 1797 the slave power asked for only life; it did not wish to extend +itself; it united with the North in prohibiting its own extension into +the Northwest Territory. + +In 1820 it did wish to extend itself; it refused to be shut out of +Missouri, but was willing that the rest of the Territory should be +always free. + +In 1845 it insisted on extending itself by annexing Texas, but it +admitted that it had no right to go into any Territory as far north as +Missouri. + +In 1850 it refused to be shut out of any of the new territory, and +resisted the Wilmot Proviso; but still confessed that it had no right +to go into Kansas or Nebraska. + +Five years after, by the efforts of Stephen A. Douglas and Franklin +Pierce, it refused to be shut out of Kansas, and repealed the part of +the Missouri Compromise which excluded it from that region. But, in +order to accomplish this repeal, it took the plausible name of "popular +sovereignty," and claimed that the people should themselves decide +whether they would have a slave State or a free State. + +One additional step came. The people decided or were about to decide +for freedom; and then the slave power set aside its own doctrine +of popular sovereignty and invaded the Territory with an army of +Missourians, chose a legislature for the people of Kansas composed of +Missourians, who passed laws establishing slavery and punishing with +fine and imprisonment any who should even speak against it. + +The people of Kansas refused to obey these laws. They would have been +slaves already if they had obeyed them. Then their own governor, +appointed by our President, led an army of Missourians to destroy +their towns and plunder and murder their people. Nothing was left +them but to resist. They did resist manfully but prudently, and by a +remarkable combination of courage and caution the people of the little +Free-State town of Lawrence succeeded in saving themselves from this +danger without shedding a drop of blood. Men, women, and children were +animated by the same heroic spirit. The women worked by the side of the +men. The men were placed on the outposts as sentinels and ordered by +their general not to fire as long as they could possibly avoid it. And +these men stood on their posts, and allowed themselves to be shot at by +the invaders, and did not return the fire. One man received two bullets +through his hat, and was ready to fire if the enemy came nearer, but +neither fired nor quitted his post. The men were brave and obedient +to orders; the women were resolute, sagacious, and prudent. So they +escaped their first great danger. + +But slavery does not give up its point so easily after one defeat. +Preparations were made along the Missouri frontier for another +invasion, conducted in a more military manner and by troops under +better discipline. The Free-State people of Kansas were to be +exterminated. From week to week they were expecting an attack, and had +to watch continually against it. After having worked all day the men +were obliged to do military duty and stand guard all night. Men who +lived four and five miles out from Lawrence got wood and water for +their wives in the morning, left them a revolver with which to defend +themselves, and went to Lawrence to do military duty, returning at +night again. + +If we had a writer gifted with the genius of Macaulay to describe the +resistance of Kansas to the Federal authorities on one side and the +Missouri invaders on the other, it would show as heroic courage and +endurance as are related in the brilliant pages which tell of the +defense of Londonderry. The invaders were unscrupulous, knowing that +they had nothing to fear from the government at Washington. Senator +Atchison, formerly the presiding officer of the United States Senate, +openly advised the people of Missouri to go and vote in Kansas. General +Stringfellow told them to take their bowie-knives and exterminate +every scoundrel who was tainted with Free-soilism or Abolitionism. +The orders were obeyed. The first legislature was elected by armed +invaders from Missouri, and Buford with a regiment of Southern soldiers +entered the Territory in 1856, and surrounded Lawrence. These troops, +under Atchison, Buford, and Stringfellow, burned houses and hotels, +and stole much property. Osawatomie was sacked and burned, Leavenworth +invaded and plundered, and Free-State men were killed. A proslavery +constitution formed by Missouri slaveholders was forced through +Congress, but rejected by the people of Kansas, who at last gained +possession of their own State by indomitable courage and patience. +Four territorial governors, appointed by the President, selected from +the Democratic party and favorable to the extension of slavery, were +all converted to the cause of freedom by the sight of the outrages +committed by the Missouri invaders. + +Amid this scene of tumult arose a warrior on the side of freedom +destined to take his place with William Wallace and William Tell among +the few names of patriots which are never forgotten. John Brown of +Osawatomie was one of those who, in these later days, have reproduced +for us the almost forgotten type of the Jewish hero and prophet. He was +a man who believed in a God of justice, who believed in fighting fire +with fire. He was one who came in the spirit and power of Elijah, an +austere man, a man absorbed in his ideas, fixed as fate in pursuing +them. Yet his heart was full of tenderness, he had no feeling of +revenge toward any, and he really lost his own life rather than risk +the lives of others. While in Kansas he become a leader of men, a +captain, equal to every exigency. The ruffians from Missouri found to +their surprise that, before they could conquer Kansas, they had some +real fighting to do, and must face Sharpe's rifles; and as soon as they +understood this, their zeal for their cause was very much abated. In +this struggle John Brown was being educated for the last scene of his +life, which has lifted up his name, and placed it in that body which +Daniel O'Connell used to call "The order of Liberators."[53] + +Out of these persecutions of Free-State men in Kansas came the assault +on Charles Sumner, for words spoken in debate. Charles Sumner was +elected to the United States Senate in 1851. He found in Congress some +strong champions of freedom. John Quincy Adams was gone; but Seward +was there, and Chase, and John P. Hale, in the Senate; and Horace +Mann, Giddings, and other true men in the House. Henry Wilson himself, +always a loyal friend to Sumner, did not come till 1855. These men all +differed from one another, and each possessed special gifts for his +arduous work. They stood face to face with an imperious majority, +accustomed to rule. They had only imperfect support at home,--people +and press at the North had been demoralized by slavery. They must watch +their words, be careful of what they said, control their emotions, +maintain an equal temper. Something of the results of this discipline +we think we perceive in the calm tone of Mr. Wilson's volumes, and the +absence of passion in his narration. These men must give no occasion to +the enemy to blaspheme, but be careful of their lips and their lives. +Their gifts, we have said, were various. Seward was a politician, +trained in all the intricate ways of New York party struggles; but +he was also a thinker of no small power of penetration. He could see +principles, but was too much disposed to sacrifice or postpone them +to some supposed exigency of the hour. In his orations, when he spoke +for mankind, his views were large; but in his politics he sometimes +gave up to party his best-considered convictions. Thought and action, +he seemed to believe, belonged to two spheres; in his thought he was +often broader in his range than any other senator, but in action he was +frequently tempted to temporize. Mr. Chase was a man of a different +sort. He had no disposition to concede any of his views. A cautious +man, he moved slowly; but when he had taken his position, he was not +disposed to leave it. John P. Hale was admirable in reply. His retorts +were rapid and keen, and yet were uttered so good-naturedly, and +with so much wit, that it was difficult for his opponents to take +offense. But Charles Sumner was "the noblest Roman of them all." With +a more various culture, a higher tone of moral sentiment, he was also +a learned student and a man of implacable opinions. He never could +comprehend Mr. Seward's diplomacy, and probably Mr. Seward could never +understand Sumner's inability to compromise. He was deficient in +imagination and in tact; therefore he could not enter into the minds of +others, and imperfectly understood them. But the purity of his soul and +life, the childlike simplicity of his purposes, and the sweetness of +his disposition, were very charming to those who knew him well. Add to +this the resources of a mind stored with every kind of knowledge, and a +memory which never forgot anything, and his very presence in Washington +gave an added value to the place. He had seen men and cities, and was +intimate with European celebrities, but yet was an Israelite indeed +in whom was no guile. Fond of the good opinions of others, and well +pleased with their approbation, he never sacrificed a conviction to win +their praise or to avoid their censure. Certainly, he was one of the +purest men who ever took part in American politics. + +It was such a man as this, so gifted and adorned, so spotless and +upright, who by the wise providence of God was permitted to be the +victim of a brutal assassin. It was this noble head, the instrument of +laborious thought for the public welfare, which was beaten and bruised +by the club of a ruffian, on May 22, 1856. Loud was the triumph through +the South, great the joy of the slave power. They had disabled, with +cruel blows, their chief enemy. Little did they foresee--bad men never +do foresee--that Charles Sumner was to return to his seat, and become a +great power in the land, long after their system had been crushed, and +their proud States trampled into ruin by the tread of Northern armies. +They did not foresee that he was to be the trusted counselor of Lincoln +during those years of war; and that, after they had been conquered, he +would become one of their best friends in their great calamity, and +repay their evil with good. + +This murderous assault on Mr. Sumner cannot be considered as having +strengthened the political position of the slave power. It was a great +mistake in itself, and it was a greater mistake in being indorsed by +such multitudes in the slave States. In thus taking the responsibility +of the act, they fully admitted that brutality, violence, and cowardly +attempts at assassination are natural characteristics of slavery. A +thrill of horror went through the civilized world on this occasion. All +the free States felt themselves outraged. That an attempt should be +made to kill in his seat a Northern man, for words spoken in debate, +was a gross insult and wrong to the nation, and deepened everywhere the +detestation felt for the system. + +But madness must have its perfect work. One more step remained to be +taken by the slave power, and that was to claim the right, under the +Constitution, and protected by the general government, to carry slaves +and slavery into all the Territories. It was not enough that they were +not prohibited by acts of Congress. They must not allow the people of +the Territories to decide for themselves whether slavery should exist +among them or not. It had a right to exist there, in spite of the +people. A single man from South Carolina, going with his slaves into +Nebraska, should have the power of making that a slave State, though +all the rest of its inhabitants wished it to be free. And if he were +troubled by his neighbors, he had a right to call on the military power +of the United States to protect him against them. Such was the doctrine +of the Dred Scott case, such the doctrine accepted by the majority +of the United States Senate under the lead of Jefferson Davis in the +spring of 1859. Such was the doctrine demanded by the Southern members +of the Democratic Convention in Charleston, S. C., in May, 1860, +and, failing to carry it, they broke up that convention. And it was +because they were defeated in this purpose of carrying slavery into the +Territories that they seceded from the Union, and formed the Southern +Confederacy. + +They had gained a long succession of political triumphs, which we +have briefly traced in this article. They had annexed Texas, and +made another slave State of that Territory. They had established the +principle that slavery was not to be excluded by law from any of the +Territories of the nation. They had repealed the Missouri Compromise, +passed the Fugitive Slave Law, obtained the Dred Scott decision from +the Supreme Court. In all this they had been aided by the Democratic +party, and were sure of the continued help of that party. With these +allies, they were certain to govern the country for a long period of +years. The President, the Senate, the Supreme Court, were all on their +side. As regarded slavery in the States, there was nothing to threaten +its existence there. The Republicans proposed only to restrict it to +the region where it actually existed, but could not and would not +meddle with it therein. If the slave power had been satisfied with +this, it seems probable that it might have retained its ascendency in +the country for a long period. An immense region was still open to its +colonies. Cotton was still king, and the slaveholders possessed all +the available cotton-growing regions. They were wealthy, they were +powerful, they governed the nation. They threw all this power away by +seceding from the Union. Why did they do this? + +The frequent answer to this question is contained in the proverb, +"Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad." No doubt this act +was one of madness, and no doubt it was providential. But Providence +works not by direct interference, but by maintaining the laws of cause +and effect. Why did they become so mad? Why this supreme folly of +relinquishing actual enormous power, in order to set their lives and +fortunes on the hazard of a die? + +It seems to be the doom of all vaulting ambition to overleap itself, +and to fall on the other side. When Macbeth had gained all his ends, +when he had become Thane of Cawdor and Glamis, and king, he had no +peace, because the succession had been promised to Banquo:-- + + "Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, + And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, + Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand, + No son of mine succeeding. If't be so, + For _Banquo's_ issue have I filed my mind, + For _them_ the gracious Duncan have I murthered, + Put rancors in the vessel of my peace. + ... To make _them_ kings, the seed of Banquo kings! + Rather than so, come fate into the list, + And champion me to the utterance." + +When Napoleon the First was master of nearly all Europe, he could not +be satisfied while England resisted his power, and Russia had not +submitted to it. So _he_ also said,-- + + "Rather than so, come fate into the list, + And champion me to the utterance." + +He also threw away all his immense power because he could not arrest +his own course or limit his own demands on fate. Such ambitions cannot +stop, so long as there is anything unconquered or unpossessed. "All +this avails me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at +the king's gate." The madness which seizes those greedy of power is +like the passion of the gamester, who is unable to limit his desire +of gain. By this law of insatiable ambition Providence equalizes +destinies, and power is prevented from being consolidated in a few +hands. + +The motive which actuates these ambitions, and makes them think that +nothing is gained so long as anything remains to be gained, seems to +be a secret fear that they are in danger of losing all unless they can +obtain more. + +This inward dread appears to have possessed the hearts of the Southern +slaveholders. Since slavery has been abolished, many of them admit that +they have more content in their present poverty than they formerly +had in their large possessions. They were then sensitive to every +suggestion which touched their institution. Hence their persecution +of Abolitionists, hence their cruelty to the slaves themselves,--for +cruelty is often the child of fear. Hence the atrocity of the slave +laws. Hence the desire to secure more and larger guaranties from the +United States for their institution. Every rumor in the air troubled +them. The fact that antislavery opinion existed at the North, that it +was continually increasing, that a great political party was growing +up which was opposed to their system, that such men as Garrison and +Wendell Phillips existed in Boston, that Seward and Sumner were in +the Senate,--all this was intolerable. The only way of accounting for +Southern irritability, for Southern aggressions, for its perpetual +demand for more power, is to be found in this latent terror. They +doubted whether the foundations of their whole system were not rotten; +they feared that it rested on falsehood and lies; they secretly felt +that it was contrary to the will of God; an instinct in their souls +told them that it was opposed to the spirit of the age and the laws of +progress; and this fear made them frantic. + +When men's minds are in this state, they are like the glass toy called +a Rupert's bubble. A single scratch on the surface causes it to fly +in pieces. The scratch on the surface of the slave system which +caused it to rush into secession and civil war was the attempt of +John Brown on Harper's Ferry. It seemed a trifle, but it indicated a +great deal. It was the first drop of a coming storm. When one man was +able to lay down his life, in a conflict with their system, with such +courage and nobleness, in a cause not his own, a shudder ran through +the whole South. To what might this grow? And so they said, "Let us +cut ourselves wholly off from these dreadful fanaticisms, from these +terrible dangers. Let us make a community of our own, and shut out from +it entirely all antislavery opinion, and live only with those who think +as we do." And so came the end. + +In reviewing Mr. Wilson's work, we have thus seen how it describes +the gradual and simultaneous growth in the United States of two +hostile powers,--one political, the other moral. The one continued to +accumulate the outward forces which belong to the organization; the +other, the inward forces which are associated with enthusiasm. The one +added continually to its external strength by the passage of new laws, +the addition of new territory, the more absolute control of parties, +government, courts, the press, and the street. The other increased its +power by accumulating an intenser conviction, a clearer knowledge, a +firmer faith, and a more devoted consecration to its cause. The weapons +of the one were force, adroitness, and worldly interest; those of the +other, faith in God, in man, and in truth. + +Great truths draw to their side noble auxiliaries. So it was with the +antislavery movement. The heroism, the romance, the eloquence, the +best literature, the grandest forms of religion, the most generous +and purest characters,--all were brought to it by a sure affinity. +As Wordsworth said to Toussaint l'Ouverture, so it might be declared +here:-- + + "Thou hast great allies; + Thy friends are exaltations, agonies, + And love, and man's unconquerable mind." + +The best poets of America, Bryant, Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, were +in full sympathy with this cause, and their best poetry was their songs +for freedom. Shall we ever forget the caustic humor of "Hosea Biglow" +and "Birdofredum Sawin"? And how lofty a flight of inspiration did the +same bard take, when he chanted in verses nobler, as it seems to us, +than anything since Wordsworth's "Ode to Immortality," the Return of +the Heroes who had wrought salvation for the dear land "bright beyond +compare" among the nations! What heroism, what tenderness, what stern +rebuke, what noble satire, have attended every event in this long +struggle, from the lyre of Whittier! Nothing in Campbell excels the +ring of some of his trumpet-calls, nothing in Cowper the pathos of his +elegies over the martyrs of freedom. The best men and the best women +were always to be found at the meetings of the Antislavery Society. +There were to be seen such upright lawyers as Ellis Gray Loring and +Samuel E. Sewall and John A. Andrew, such eminent writers as Emerson, +such great preachers as Theodore Parker and Beecher, such editors as +Bryant and Greeley. To this cause did William Ellery Channing devote +his last years and best thoughts. If the churches as organizations +stood aloof, being only "timidly good," as organizations are apt +to be, the purest of their body were sure to be found in this great +company of latter-day saints. + +Antislavery men had their faults. They were often unjust to their +opponents, though unintentionally so. They were sometimes narrow and +bitter; and with them, as with all very earnest people, any difference +of opinion as to methods seemed to involve moral obliquity. But they +were doing the great work of the age,--the most necessary work of +all,--and much might be pardoned to their passionate love of justice +and humanity. In their meetings could be heard many of the ablest +speakers of the time, and one, the best of all. He held the silver bow +of Apollo, and dreadful was its clangor when he launched its shafts +against spiritual wickedness in high places. Those deadly arrows were +sometimes misdirected, and occasionally they struck the good men who +were meaning to do their duty. Such errors, we suppose, are incident +to all who are speaking and acting in such terrible earnest; in the +great day of accounts many mistakes will have to be rectified. But +surely among the goodly company of apostles and prophets, and in the +noble army of martyrs there assembled, few will be found more free from +the sins of selfish interest and personal ambition than those who in +Congress, in the pulpit, on the platform, or with the pen, fought the +great battle of American freedom. + +One great moral must be drawn from this story before we close. It +demonstrates, by a great historical proof, that no evil however +mighty, no abuse however deeply rooted, can resist the power of truth +faithfully uttered and steadily applied. If this great institution of +slavery, resting on such a foundation of enormous pecuniary interest, +buttressed by such powerful supports, fell in the life of a single +generation before the unaided power of truth, why should we ever +despair? Henceforth, whenever a mighty evil is to be assailed, or +a cruel despotism overthrown, men will look to this history of the +greatness and decadence of slavery; and, so encouraged, will believe +that God is on the side of justice, and that truth will always prevail +against error. + +But to this we must add, that it is only where free institutions exist +that truth has full power in such a conflict. We need free speech, +a free press, free schools, and free churches, in order that truth +may have a free course. The great advantage of a republic like ours +is, that it gives to truth a fair chance in its conflict with error. +The Southern States would long ago have abolished slavery if it had +possessed such institutions. But, though republican in form, the +Southern States were in reality an oligarchy, in which five millions +of whites and three millions of slaves were governed by the absolute +and irresponsible power of less than half a million of slaveholders. +Freedom was permitted by them except when this institution was +concerned, then it was absolutely forbidden. No book written against +their peculiar institution could be printed on any Southern press or +sold in any Southern bookstore. No newspaper attacking slavery was +allowed to be circulated through Southern mails. No public meeting +could be held to discuss the right and wrong of slavery. No minister +could preach against the system. No man could express, even in +conversation, his hostility to it, without risk of personal injury. +An espionage as sharp, and an inquisition as relentless as those of +Venice or Spain, governed society, at least in the cotton and sugar +States of the Union. But at the North opinion was free, and therefore +slavery fell. Fisher Ames compressed in an epigram the evil and good of +republican institutions. "In a monarchy," said he, "we are in a ship, +very comfortable while things go well; but strike a rock, and we go to +the bottom. In a republic, we are on a raft; our feet are wet, and it +is not always agreeable, but we are safe." It is a lasting proof of the +conservative power of free institutions, that they were able to uproot +such a system as slavery by creating a moral force capable of putting +it down; that they could carry us through a civil war, still leaving +the press and speech free: that they stood the strain of a presidential +election without taking from the voters a single right; and so, at +last, conquered a rebellion on so vast a scale that every European +monarchy, with its immense standing army, would have been powerless in +its presence. Let those Americans who are disposed to disparage their +own institutions bear this history in mind. We have evils here, and +great ones; but they come at once to the surface, and therefore can be +met and overcome by the power of intelligent opinion. So it has always +been in the past; so it will be, God aiding us, in the future. We are +about to meet the Centennial Anniversary of our national life; and on +that day we can look back to our fathers, the founders of the Republic, +and say to them,--"You gave us the inestimable blessing of free +institutions; we have used those institutions to destroy the only great +evil which you transmitted to us untouched. We now can send down the +Republic to our children, pure from this stain, and capable of enduring +IN SECULA SECULORUM." + + + The Riverside Press + + CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, U. S. A. + ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY + H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[1] See the argument to prove that it would not be difficult to climb +to heaven. + +[2] Simon Peter's attitude expresses astonishment and perplexity. He +holds out both hands, and seems to say, "It cannot be!" + +In Thaddeus we see suspicion, doubt, distrust. "I always suspected him." + +Matthew is speaking to Peter and Thomas, his hand held out toward +Jesus: "But I heard him say so." + +Thomas: "What can it mean? What will be the end?" + +James: (Hands spread wide apart in astonished perplexity:) "Is it +possible?" + +Philip has laid both hands on his breast, and leaning toward Jesus +says, "Lord, is it I?" + +At the other end, one is leaning forward, his hands resting on the +table, to catch the next words; one starting back, confused and +confounded. + +[3] _The North American Review_, February, 1881. + +[4] _The Independent_, 1882. + +[5] _The North American Review_, May, 1883. + +[6] _Buddha and Early Buddhism_. Trbner & Co., 1881. + +[7] _Hibbert Lectures_, 1882, page 291. + +[8] A. Rville: _Prolgomnes de l'Histore des Religions_. + +[9] _Le Bouddha et sa Religion_, page 149, par J. Barthlemy +Saint-Hilaire, Paris. + +[10] Senart: _Essai sur la Lgende du Buddha_. Paris, 1875. + +[11] Oldenberg: _Buddha, sein Leben, seine Lehre, seine Gemeinde_. +Berlin, 1881. This is one of the latest and best books on our subject. + +[12] _Three Lectures on Buddhism_: "Romantic Legend of Buddha," by +Samuel Beal. London, 1875. Eitel. + +[13] _Hibbert Lectures_: "Origin and Growth of Buddhism," by T. W. Rhys +Davids. 1881. + +[14] _Ibid._, page 143. + +[15] _Buddhistisch-Christliche Harmonie._ + +[16] P. E. Lucius: _Die Therapeuten und ihre Stellung_, &c. Strassburg, +1880. + +[17] _The North American Review_, October, 1887. + +[18] _The Atlantic Monthly_, October, 1874. + +[19] _The Intelligence and Perfectibility of Animals_, by C. G. Leroy. +Translated into English in 1870. _De l'Instinct et l'Intelligence des +Animaux_, par P. Flourens. Paris, 1864. + +[20] It is a mistake to say that the Tasmanians do not use fire. + +[21] _The Galaxy_, December, 1874. + +[22] Symposium in the _North American Review_, May, 1879. + +[23] In this brief paper it is not possible even to allude to the +objections which have been brought against the doctrine of final +causes. For these objections, and the answers to them, I would refer +the reader to the work of Janet, before mentioned. + +[24] _The Christian Examiner_, September, 1864. + +[25] _History of Friedrich the Second, called Frederick the Great_, by +Thomas Carlyle. In four volumes. Harper and Brothers, 1864. + +[26] + + "Tu se' lo mio maestro, e 'l mio autore, + O degli altri poeti onore e lume." + +[27] _Frederick the Great_, vol. ii. p. 223. + +[28] _The Christian Examiner_, November, 1861. + +[29] _History of Civilization in England._ By Henry Thomas Buckle. +Vols. I. and II. New York: D. Appleton and Company. + +[30] _Comm._ VI. 11, _et seq._ + +[31] _Germania._ + +[32] George Borrow, _The Zincali_. See also an excellent article by A. +G. Paspati, translated from Modern Greek by Rev. C. Hamlin, D. D., in +_Journal of American Oriental Society_, 1861. + +[33] See Vol. II. pp. 255-259, American edition. + +[34] _The Atlantic Monthly_, August, 1881. + +[35] _Life of Voltaire_, by James Parton. In two vols. Boston: +Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1886. + +[36] Voltaire himself, with his acute perception, seems to have been +one of the first to discover the absurdity of the representation of +Tiberius by Tacitus. + +[37] _Essai sur les Moeurs_, ch. cxxi. + +[38] Parton, ii. 549. + +[39] _Ibid._, ii. 551. + +[40] _Ibid._, i. 232. + +[41] Martin's _History of France_. + +[42] Parton, i. 461. + +[43] Martin's _History of France_. + +[44] A sermon preached May 7, 1882. + +[45] _The North American Review_, May, 1877. + +[46] _Harriet Martineau's Autobiography._ Edited by Maria Weston +Chapman. 2 vols. + +[47] For some reason she afterward saw fit partially to abandon this +self-denial, and allowed Mrs. Chapman to print any letters written to +herself by Miss Martineau. + +[48] "History of the Rise and Fall of the Slave Power in America," by +Henry Wilson, _North American Review_, January, 1875. + +[49] _Congressional Globe_ for February 6, 1837. + +[50] Rule adopted January 18, that all petitions relating to slavery be +laid on the table without any action being taken on them. + +[51] February 6, 7, 9, 11. + +[52] The writer of this article recalls a scene which occurred in +his presence in the United States Senate early in 1851. Mr. Clay was +speaking of the antislavery agitators and of the Free-Soil party, and +said, with much bitterness, "We have put them down,--down,--down, where +they will remain; down to a place so low, that they can never get up +again." John P. Hale, never at a loss for a reply, immediately arose +and said, "The Senator from Kentucky says that I and my friends have +been put down,--down,--down, where we shall have to stay. It may be +so. Indeed, if the Senator says so, I am afraid it _must_ be so. For, +if there is any good authority on this subject, any man who knows by +his own personal and constant experience what it is to be put down, +and to be kept down, it is the honorable Senator from Kentucky." Mr. +Clay's aspirations had been so often baffled, that this was a very keen +thrust. The writer spoke to Mr. Hale shortly after, and he said, "I do +not think Mr. Clay will forgive me that hit; but I could not help it. +They may have got us down, but they shall not trample upon us." + +[53] O'Connell, in an album belonging to John Howard Payne, writes this +sentence after his name. + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + +Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant +preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. + +Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced +quotation marks retained. + +Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. + +Page 39: "Appeltons' Journal" was punctuated that way in the original +book and on the masthead of the Journal itself. + +Page 46: "generalties" was spelled that way in the original book and in +some copies of "The Poestaster" itself. + +Page 220: Greek transliteration in curly braces was added by +Transcriber. + +Page 309: Opening quotation mark before "unfailing good sense" was +added by Transcriber. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Nineteenth Century Questions, by +James Freeman Clarke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS *** + +***** This file should be named 44628-8.txt or 44628-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/6/2/44628/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nineteenth Century Questions + +Author: James Freeman Clarke + +Release Date: January 8, 2014 [EBook #44628] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="transnote covernote"> +<p class="center">Cover created by Transcriber and placed into the Public Domain.</p> +</div> + +<div class="poem-container"> +<div class="box center"> +<p class="p1 center larger bold">By James Freeman Clarke, D.D.</p> + +<blockquote class="p2"> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">TEN GREAT RELIGIONS.</span> Part I. An Essay in Comparative Theology. +New <i>Popular Edition</i>. Crown 8vo, gilt top, $2.00.</p> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">TEN GREAT RELIGIONS.</span> Part II. Comparison of all Religions. +Crown 8vo, gilt top, $2.00.</p> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">COMMON SENSE IN RELIGION.</span> Crown 8vo, $2.00.</p> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">MEMORIAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES.</span> Crown 8vo, $2.00.</p> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">EVERY-DAY RELIGION.</span> Crown 8vo, $1.50.</p> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">EVENTS AND EPOCHS IN RELIGIOUS HISTORY.</span> With Maps +and Illustrations. Crown 8vo, $2.00.</p> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">THE IDEAS OF THE APOSTLE PAUL.</span> Translated into their Modern +Equivalents. Crown 8vo, $1.50.</p> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">SELF-CULTURE</span>: Physical, Intellectual, Moral, and Spiritual. Crown +8vo, $1.50.</p> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS.</span> Crown 8vo, $1.50.</p> + +<p class="hang"><span class="sans">EXOTICS.</span> Poems translated from the French, German, and Italian, +by J. F. C. and L. C. 18mo, $1.00.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="p2 center"> +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY,<br /> +<span class="smcap smaller">Boston and New York</span>.<br /> +</p> +</div></div> + +<h1 class="vspace"> +NINETEENTH CENTURY<br /> +QUESTIONS</h1> + +<p class="p2 center vspace large"><span class="small">BY</span><br /> +JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 115px;"> +<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="115" height="151" alt="Publisher's logo" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2 center">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +<span class="larger">HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY</span><br /> +<b>The Riverside Press, Cambridge</b><br /> +1897.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="p4 center vspace smaller"> +COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY ELIOT C. CLARKE<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>PREFATORY NOTE</h2> + +<p>Shortly before his death, Dr. Clarke selected +the material for this book, and partly prepared it +for publication. He wished thus to preserve some +of his papers which had excited interest when +printed in periodicals or read as lectures.</p> + +<p>With slight exceptions, the book is issued just +as prepared by the author.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></h2> + +<div class="center"><div class="center-table"> +<table summary="Contents"> + <tr class="small"> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdr"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl larger">LITERARY STUDIES.</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Lyric and Dramatic Elements in Literature and Art</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#LYRIC">3</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Dualism in National Life</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#DUALISM">28</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Did Shakespeare write Bacon's Works?</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#SHAKESPEARE">38</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">The Evolution of a Great Poem: Gray's Elegy</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#EVOLUTION">60</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl larger">RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL.</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Affinities of Buddhism and Christianity</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#AFFINITIES">71</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Why I am not a Free-Religionist</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#WHY">90</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Have Animals Souls?</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#HAVE">100</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Apropos of Tyndall</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#APROPOS">128</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Law and Design in Nature</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#LAW">149</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl larger">HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL.</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">The Two Carlyles, or Carlyle Past and Present</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#CARLYLES">162</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Buckle and his Theory of Averages</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#BUCKLE">196</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Voltaire</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#VOLTAIRE">235</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Ralph Waldo Emerson</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#EMERSON">270</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Harriet Martineau</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#HARRIET">284</a></td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">The Rise and Fall of the Slave Power in America</span></td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#RISE">312</a></td></tr> +</table></div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LITERARY_STUDIES" id="LITERARY_STUDIES"><span class="larger">LITERARY STUDIES</span></a></h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a id="LYRIC">LYRIC AND DRAMATIC ELEMENTS IN +LITERATURE AND ART</a></h2> + +<p>The German philosophy has made a distinction +between the Subjective and the Objective, which +has been found so convenient that it has been already +naturalized and is almost acclimated in our +literature.</p> + +<p>The distinction is this: in all thought there are +two factors, the thinker himself, and that about +which he thinks. All thought, say our friends the +Germans, results from these two factors: the subject, +or the man thinking; and the object, what +the man thinks about. All that part of thought +which comes from the man himself, the Ego, +they call subjective; all that part which comes +from the outside world, the non-Ego, they call objective.</p> + +<p>I am about to apply this distinction to literature +and art; but instead of the terms Subjective and +Objective, I shall use the words Lyric and Dramatic.</p> + +<p>For example, when a writer or an artist puts +a great deal of himself into his work, I call him +a lyric writer or artist. Lyrical, in poetry, is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span> +term applied to that species of poetry which directly +expresses the individual emotions of the poet. On +the other hand, I call an artist or poet dramatic +when his own personality disappears, and is lost +in that which he paints or describes. A lyric or +subjective writer gives us more of himself than of +the outside world; a dramatic or objective writer +gives us more of the outside world than of himself.</p> + +<p>Lyric poetry is that which is to be sung; the +lyre accompanies song. Now, song is mainly +personal or subjective. It expresses the singer's +personal emotions, feelings, desires; and for these +reasons I select this phrase "lyric" to express all +subjective or personal utterances in art.</p> + +<p>The drama, on the other hand, is a photograph +of life; of live men and women acting themselves +out freely and individually. The dramatic writer +ought to disappear in his drama; if he does not +do so he is not a dramatic writer, but a lyrist in +disguise.</p> + +<p>The dramatic element is the power of losing one's +self—opinions, feeling, character—in that which +is outside and foreign, and reproducing it just as +it is. In perfect dramatic expression the personal +equation is wholly eliminated. The writer disappears +in his characters; his own hopes and fears, +emotions and convictions, do not color his work.</p> + +<p>But the lyric element works in the opposite way. +In song, the singer is prominent more than what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span> +he sings. He suffuses his subject with his own +thoughts and feelings. If he describes nature, he +merely gives us the feelings it awakens in his own +mind. If he attempts to write a play, we see the +same actor thinly disguised reappearing in all the +parts.</p> + +<p>Now, there is a curious fact connected with +this subject. It is that great lyric and dramatic +authors or artists are apt to appear in duads or +pairs. Whenever we meet with a highly subjective +writer, we are apt to find him associated with +another as eminently objective. This happens so +often that one might imagine that each type of +thought attracts its opposite and tends to draw +it out and develop it. It may be that genius, +when it acts on disciples who are persons of talent, +draws out what is like itself, and makes imitators; +when it acts on a disciple who himself possesses +genius, it draws out what is opposite to itself and +develops another original thinker. Genius, like +love, is attracted by its opposite, or counterpart. +Love and genius seek to form wholes; they look +for what will complete and fulfill themselves. +When, therefore, a great genius has come, fully +developed on one side, he exercises an irresistible +attraction on the next great genius, in whom +the opposite side is latent, and is an important +factor in his development. Thus, perhaps, we obtain +the duads, whose curious concurrence I will +now illustrate by a few striking instances.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span> +Beginning our survey with English literature, +who are the first two great poets whose names +occur to us? Naturally, Chaucer and Spenser. +Now, Chaucer is eminently dramatic and objective +in his genius; while Spenser is distinctly a lyrical +and subjective poet.</p> + +<p>Chaucer tells stories; and story-telling is objective. +One of the most renowned collections of +stories is the "Arabian Nights;" but who knows +anything about the authors of those entertaining +tales? They are merely pictures of Eastern life, +reflected in the minds of some impersonal authors, +whose names even are unknown.</p> + +<p>Homer is another great story-teller; and Homer +is so objective, so little of a personality, that some +modern critics suppose there may have been several +Homers.</p> + +<p>Chaucer is a story-teller also; and in his stories +everything belonging to his age appears, except +Chaucer himself. His writings are full of pictures +of life, sketches of character; in one word, he is +a dramatic or objective writer. He paints things +as they are,—gives us a panorama of his period. +Knights, squires, yeomen, priests, friars, pass before +us, as in Tennyson's poem "The Lady of +Shalott."</p> + +<p>The mind of an objective story-teller, like Chaucer, +is the faithful mirror, which impartially reflects +all that passes before it, but cracks from side +to side whenever he lets a personal feeling enter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span> +his mind, for then the drama suddenly disappears +and a lyric of personal hope or fear, gladness or +sadness, takes its place.</p> + +<p>Spenser is eminently a lyric poet. His own +genius suffuses his stories with a summer glow of +warm, tender, generous sentiment. In his descriptions +of nature he does not catalogue details, but +suggests impressions, which is the only way of +truly describing nature. There are some writers +who can describe scenery, so that the reader feels +as if he had seen it himself. The secret of all +such description is that it does not count or measure, +but suggests. It is not quantitative but qualitative +analysis. It does not apply a foot rule to +nature, but gives the impression made on the mind +and heart by the scene. I have never been at +Frascati nor in Sicily, but I can hardly persuade +myself that I have not seen those places. I have +distinct impressions of both, simply from reading +two of George Sand's stories. I have in my mind +a picture of Frascati, with deep ravines, filled +with foliage; with climbing, clustering, straggling +vines and trees and bushes; with overhanging +crags, deep masses of shadow below, bright sunshine +on the stone pines above. So I have another +picture of Sicilian scenery, wide and open, with +immense depths of blue sky, and long reaches of +landscape; ever-present Etna, soaring snow-clad +into the still air; an atmosphere of purity, filling +the heart with calm content. It may be that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> +Catania and Frascati are not like this; but I feel +as if I had seen them, not as if I had heard them +described.</p> + +<p>It is thus that Spenser describes nature; by +touching some chord of fancy in the soul. Notice +this picture of a boat on the <span class="locked">sea:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"So forth they rowëd; and that Ferryman<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his stiff oars did brush the sea so strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the hoar waters from his frigate ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the light bubbles dancëd all along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whiles the salt brine out of the billows sprang;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last, far off, they many islands spy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On every side, floating the floods among."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>You notice that you are in the boat yourself, +and everything is told as it appears to you there; +you see the bending of the "stiff oars" by your +side, and the little bubbles dancing on the water, +and the islands, not as they <em>are</em>, rock-anchored, +but as they <em>seem</em> to you, floating on the water. +This is subjective description,—putting the reader +in the place, and letting him see it all from that +point of view. So Spenser speaks of the "oars +sweeping the watery wilderness;" and of the gusty +winds "filling the sails with fear."</p> + +<p>Perhaps the highest description ought to include +both the lyric and dramatic elements. Here is a +specimen of sea description, by an almost unknown +American poet, Fenner, perfect in its way. The +poem is called "Gulf <span class="locked">Weed:"—</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"A weary weed washed to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drearily drenched in the ocean brine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soaring high, or sinking low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lashed along without will of mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sport of the spoom of the surging sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flung on the foam afar and near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark my manifold mystery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Growth and grace in their place appear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"I bear round berries, gray and red,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rootless and rover though I be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spangled leaves, when nicely spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arboresce as a trunkless tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Corals curious coat me o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">White and hard in apt array;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mid the wild waves' rude uproar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gracefully grow I, night and day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Hearts there are on the sounding shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Something whispers soft to me,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restless and roaming for evermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like this weary weed of the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear they yet on each beating breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The eternal Type of the wondrous whole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Growth unfolding amidst unrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grace informing the silent soul."<br /></span> +</div> +</div></div> + +<p>All nature becomes alive in the Spenserian +description. Take, for example, the wonderful +stanza which describes the music of the "Bower +of <span class="locked">Bliss:"—</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span></p><div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i4q">"The joyous birds, shrouded in cheerful shade<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Their notes unto the voice attemper'd sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Th' angelical, soft, trembling voices made<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the instruments divine respondence meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The silver-sounding instruments did meet<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With the bass murmur of the water's fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The water's fall, with difference discreet,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now loud, now low, unto the winds did call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle warbling winds low answerëd to all."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Consider the splendid portrait of Belphœbe:—</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4q">"In her fair eyes two living lamps did flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Kindled above at the Heavenly Maker's light;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And darted fiery beams out of the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So passing piercing, and so wondrous bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They quite bereaved the rash beholder's sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In them the blinded god his lustful fire<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To kindle oft essay'd but had no might,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For with dread majesty and awful ire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She broke his wanton darts and quenchëd base desire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4q">"Her ivory forehead, full of bounty brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like a broad tablet did itself dispread,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For love his lofty triumphs to engrave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And write the battles of his great godhead;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All good and honor might therein be read,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For there their dwelling was; and when she spake,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sweet words, like dropping honey she did shed;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And, twixt the pearls and rubies softly brake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silver Sound, that heavenly music seemed to make."<br /></span> +</div> +</div></div> + +<p>If we examine this picture, we see that it is not +a photograph, such as the sun makes, but a lover's +description of his mistress. He sees her, not as +she is, but as she is to <em>him</em>. He paints her out of +his own heart. In her eyes he sees, not only brilliancy +and color, but heavenly light; he reads in +them an untouched purity of soul. Looking at her +forehead, he sees, not whiteness and roundness, +but goodness and honor.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> +Shakespeare's lovers always describe their mistresses +in this way, out of their own soul and heart. +It is his own feeling that the lover gives, seeing +perhaps "Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt."</p> + +<p>After Chaucer and Spenser the next great English +poets whose names naturally occur to us are +Shakespeare and Milton.</p> + +<p>Now, Shakespeare was the most objective dramatic +writer who ever lived; while Milton was eminently +and wholly a subjective and lyrical writer.</p> + +<p>It is true that Shakespeare was so great that he +is one of the very few men of genius in whom appear +both of these elements. In his plays he is so +objective that he is wholly lost in his characters, +and his personality absolutely disappears; in his +sonnets he "unlocks his heart" and is lyrical and +subjective; he there gives us his inmost self, and +we seem to know him as we know a friend with +whom we have lived in intimate relations for years. +Still, he will be best remembered by his plays; +and into them he put the grandeur and universality +of his genius; so we must necessarily consider +him as the greatest dramatic genius of all time. +But he belonged to a group of dramatic poets of +whom he was the greatest: Ben Jonson, Beaumont +and Fletcher, Massinger, Ford, Webster,—any +one of whom would make the fortune of the stage +to-day. It was a great age of dramatic literature, +and it came very naturally to meet a demand. +The play then was what the novel is to-day. As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> +people to-day have no sooner read a new novel than +they want another, so, in Shakespeare's time, they +had no sooner seen a new play than they ran to +see another. Hence the amazing fertility of the +dramatic writers. Thomas Heywood wrote the +whole or a part of two hundred and twenty plays. +The manager of one of the theatres bought a hundred +and six new plays for his stage in six years; +and in the next five years a hundred and sixty. +The price paid to an author for a play would now +be equal to about two or three hundred dollars. +The dramatic element, as is natural, abounds in +these writings, though in some of them the author's +genius is plainly lyrical. Such, for example, +is Massinger's, who always reminds me of Schiller. +Both wrote plays, but in both writers the faculty +of losing themselves in their characters is wanting. +The nobleness of Schiller appears in all his works, +and constitutes a large part of their charm. So in +Massinger all tends to generosity and elevation. +His worst villains are ready to be converted and +turn saints at the least provocation. Their wickedness +is in a condition of unstable equilibrium; +it topples over, and goodness becomes supreme in +a single moment. Massinger could not create +really wicked people; their wickedness is like a +child's moment of passion or willfulness, ending +presently in a flood of tears, and a sweet reconciliation +with his patient mother. But how different +was it with Shakespeare! Consider his Iago.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> +How deeply rooted was his villainy! how it was +a part of the very texture of his being! He had +conformed to it the whole philosophy of his life. +His cynical notions appear in the first scene. Iago +<em>believes</em> in meanness, selfishness, everything that is +base; to him all that seems good is either a pretense +or a weakness. The man who does not seek +the gratification of his own desires is a fool. +There is to Iago nothing sweet, pure, fair, or true, +in this world or the next. He profanes everything +he touches. He sneers at the angelic innocence of +Desdemona; he sneers at the generous, impulsive +soul of Othello. When some one speaks to him of +virtue, he says "Virtue? a fig! ’tis in ourselves +that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, +to which our wills are gardeners." You can +plant nettles or lettuce as you please. That is to +say, there is no reality in goodness. The virtue of +Desdemona will be gone to-morrow, if she takes +the whim. The Moor's faith in goodness is folly; +it will cause him to be led by the nose. There is +no converting such a man as that; or only when, +by means of terrible disappointments and anguish, +he is brought to see the reality of human goodness +and divine providence. And that can hardly happen +to him in this world.</p> + +<p>Iago is a murderer of the soul, Macbeth a murderer +of the body. The wickedness of Macbeth +is different from that of Iago; that of Shylock +and of Richard Third different again from either.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> +Macbeth is a half-brute, a man in a low state of +development, with little intellect and strong passions. +Shylock is a highly intellectual man, not +a cynic like Iago, but embittered by ill-treatment, +made venomous by cruel wrong and perpetual contempt. +Oppression has made this wise man mad. +Richard Third, originally bad, has been turned into +a cruel monster by the egotism born of power. +He has the contempt for his race that belongs to +the aristocrat, who looks on men in humbler places +as animals of a lower order made for his use or +amusement. Now, this wonderful power of differentiating +characters belongs to the essence of the +dramatic faculty. Each of these is developed +from within, from a personal centre, and is true to +that. Every manifestation of this central life is +correlated to every other. If one of Shakespeare's +characters says but ten words in one scene, and +then ten words more in another, we recognize him +as the same person. His speech bewrayeth him. +So it is in human life. Every man is fatally consistent +with himself. So, after we have seen a +number of pictures by any one of the great masters, +we recognize him again, as soon as we enter a gallery. +We know him by a certain style. Inferior +artists have a manner; great artists have a +style; manner is born of imitation; style of originality. +So, there is a special quality in every human +being, if he will only allow it to unfold. The +dramatic faculty recognizes this. Its knowledge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> +of man is not a philosophy, nor a mere knowledge +of human nature, but a perception of individual +character. It first integrates men as human beings; +then differentiates them as individuals. +Play-writers, novelists, and artists who do not possess +this dramatic genius cannot grow their characters +from within, from a personal centre of life; +but build them up from without, according to a +plan. In description of nature, however, Shakespeare +is, as he ought to be, subjective and lyric; +he touches nature with human feelings. Take his +description of a <span class="locked">brook:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"The current that with gentle murmur glides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st, being stopp'd impatiently doth rage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when his fair course is not hindered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He overtaketh in his pilgrimage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so by many winding nooks he strays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With willing sport to the wild ocean."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The brook is gentle; then it becomes angry; +then it is pacified and begins to sing; then it stops +to kiss the sedge; then it is a pilgrim; and it +walks <em>willingly</em> on to the ocean.</p> + +<p>So in his <span class="locked">sonnet:—</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span></p><div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Full many a glorious morning have I seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flatter the mountain top with sovereign eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kissing with golden face the meadows green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anon permit the basest clouds to ride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ugly rack on his celestial face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the forlorn world his visage hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stealing unseen to west with his disgrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even so my sun one early morn did shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all triumphant splendor on my brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The region cloud hath masked him from me now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet him, for this, my love no whit disdaineth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suns of this world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>From Shakespeare, the marvel of dramatic genius, +turn to Milton, and we find the opposite tendency +unfolded.</p> + +<p>The "Paradise Lost" is indeed dramatic in +form, with different characters and dialogues, in +hell, on earth, and in heaven. But in essence it is +undramatic. Milton is never for a moment lost in +his characters; his grand and noble soul is always +appearing. Every one speaks as Milton would +have spoken had Milton been in the same place, +and looked at things from the same point of view. +Sin and Satan, for example, both talk like John +Milton. Sin is very conscientious, and before she +will unlock the gate of hell she is obliged to argue +herself into a conviction that it is right to do so. +Satan, she says, is her father, and children ought to +obey their parents; so, since he tells her to unlock +the gate, she ought to do so. Death reproaches +Satan, in good set terms, for his treason against +the Almighty; and Satan, as we all know, utters +the noblest sentiments, and talks as Milton would +have talked, had Milton been in Satan's <span class="locked">position.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a></span></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span></p> +<p>Coming down nearer to our own time, we find a +duad of great English poets, usually associated in +our minds,—Byron and Scott.</p> + +<p>Scott was almost the last of the dramatic poets +of England, using the word dramatic in its large +sense. His plays never amounted to much; but +his stories in verse and in prose are essentially dramatic. +In neither does he reveal himself. In all +his poetry you scarcely find a reference to his personal +feelings. In the L'Envoi to the "Lady of +the Lake" there is a brief allusion of this sort, +touching because so unusual, and almost the only +one I now recall. Addressing the "Harp of the +North" he <span class="locked">says:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i2q">"Much have I owed thy strains through life's long way,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Through secret woes the world has never known,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When on the weary night dawned wearier day,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And bitterer was the grief devoured alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Scott, like Chaucer, brings before us a long succession +of characters, from many classes, countries, +and times. Scotch barons and freebooters, English +kings, soldiers, gentlemen, crusaders, Alpine +peasants, mediæval counts, serfs, Jews, Saxons,—brave, +cruel, generous,—all sweep past us, in a +long succession of pictures; but of Scott himself +nothing appears except the nobleness and purity +of the tone which pervades all. He is therefore +eminently a dramatic or objective writer.</p> + +<p>But Byron is the exact opposite. The mighty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> +exuberance of his genius, which captivated his age, +and the echoes of which thrill down to ours, in all +its vast overflow of passion, imagination, wit,—ever +sounded but one strain,—himself. His own +woes, his own wrongs are the ever-recurring theme. +Though he wrote many dramas, he was more undramatic +than Milton. Every character in every +play is merely a thinly disguised Byron. It was +impossible for him to get away from himself. If +Tennyson's lovely line tells the truth when he +<span class="locked">says,—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Love took up the harp of life and smote on all its chords with might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight:"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">then Byron never really loved; for in his poetry +the chord of self never passes out of sight.</p> + +<p>In his plays the principal characters are Byron +undiluted—as Manfred, Sardanapalus, Cain, +Werner, Arnold. All the secondary characters +are Byron more or less diluted,—Byron and +water, may we say? Never, since the world began, +has there been a poet so steeped in egotism, +so sick of self-love as he; and the magnificence of +his genius appears in the unfailing interest which +he can give to this monotonous theme.</p> + +<p>But he was the example of a spirit with which +the whole age was filled to saturation. Almost all +the nineteenth century poets of England are subjective, +giving us their own experience, sentiments,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> +reflections, philosophies. Wordsworth, Coleridge, +Shelley, Keats, revolve in this enchanted and +enchanting circle. Keats and Coleridge seem +capable of something different. So, in the double +star, made up of Wordsworth and Coleridge, the +first is absolutely personal and lyric, the second +sometimes objective and dramatic. And in that +other double star of Shelley and Keats the same +difference may be noted.</p> + +<p>A still more striking instance of the combination +of these antagonisms is to be found in our +time, in Robert Browning and his wife. Mrs. +Browning is wholly lyric, like a bird which sings +its own tender song of love and hope and faith till +"that wild music burdens every bough;" and +those "mournful hymns" hush the night to listening +sympathy.</p> + +<p>But in her husband we have a genuine renaissance +of the old dramatic power of the English +bards. Robert Browning is <em>so</em> dramatic that he +forgets himself and his readers too, in his characters +and their situations. To study the varieties +of men and women is his joy; to reproduce them +unalloyed, his triumph.</p> + +<p>One curious instance of this self-oblivious immersion +in the creations of his mind occurs to me. In +one of his early poems called "In a Gondola"—as +it first appeared—two lovers are happily conversing, +until in a moment, we know not why, the +tone becomes one of despair, and they bid each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> +other an eternal farewell. Why this change of +tone there is no explanation. In a later edition he +condescends to inform us, inserting a note to this +effect: "He is surprised and stabbed." This is +the opposite extreme to Milton's angels carefully +explaining to each other that they possess a specific +levity which enables them to drop upward.</p> + +<p>If we think of our own poets whose names are +usually connected,—Longfellow and Lowell, for +instance,—we shall easily see which is dramatic and +which lyric. But the only man of truly dramatic +faculty whom we have possessed was one in whom +the quality never fully ripened,—I mean Edgar +Allan Poe.</p> + +<p>In foreign literature we may trace the same +tendency of men of genius to arrange themselves +in couplets. Take, for instance, in Italy, Dante +and Petrarch; in France, Voltaire and Rousseau; +in Germany, Goethe and Schiller. Dante is dramatic, +losing himself in his stern subject, his +dramatic characters; his awful pictures of gloomy +destiny. Petrarch is lyrical, personal, singing forever +his own sad and sweet fate. Again, Voltaire +is essentially dramatic,—immersed in things, absorbed +in life, a man reveling in all human accident +and adventure, and aglow with faith in an +earthly paradise. The sad Rousseau goes apart, +away from men; standing like Byron, among them, +but not of them; in a cloud of thoughts that are +not their thoughts. And, once more, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> +Goethe resembles Shakespeare in this, that some +of his works are subjective, and others objective,—though, +in the greatness of his mind he reconciles +all the usual antagonisms of thought,—yet the +fully developed Goethe, like the fully developed +Shakespeare, disappears in his characters and +theme. Life to him, in all its forms, was so intensely +interesting that his own individual and +subjective sentiments are left out of sight. But +Schiller stands opposed to Goethe, as being a dramatist +devoid of dramatic genius, but full of personal +power; so grand in his nobleness of soul, so +majestic in the aspirations of his sentiment, so +full of patriotic ardor and devotion to truth and +goodness, that he moves all hearts as he walks +through his dramas,—the great poet visible in +every scene and every line. As his tried and +noble friend says of him in an equally undying +<span class="locked">strain:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Burned in his cheek, with ever-deepening fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit's youth, which never passes by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The courage, which though worlds in hate conspire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conquers at last their dull hostility;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lofty faith, which ever, mounting higher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now presses on, now waiteth patiently;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which the good tends ever to its goal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which day lights at last the generous soul."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Goethe's characters and stories covered the +widest range: Faust, made sick with too much +thought, and seeking outward joy as a relief; +Werther, a self-absorbed sentimentalist; Tasso, an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> +Italian man of genius, a mixture of imagination, +aspiration, sensitive self-distrust; susceptible to +opinion, sympathetic; Iphigenia, a picture of antique +calm, simplicity, purity, classic repose, like +that of a statue; Hermann and Dorothea, a sweet +idyl of modern life, in a simple-minded German +village with an opinionated, honest landlord, a +talkative apothecary, a motherly landlady, a sensible +and good pastor, and the two young lovers.</p> + +<p>This law of duality, or reaction of genius on +genius, will also be found to apply to artists, philosophers, +historians, orators. These also come in +pairs, manifesting the same antagonistic qualities.</p> + +<p>Some artists are lyric; putting their own souls +into every face, every figure, making even a landscape +alive with their own mood; <span class="locked">adding—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i30q">"A gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lustre known to neither sea nor land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But borrowed from the poet-painter's dream."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In every landscape of Claude we find the soul +of Claude; in every rugged rock-defile of Salvator +we read his mood. These artists are lyric; but there +are also great dramatic painters, who give you, not +themselves, but men and women; so real, so differentiated, +characters so full of the variety and +antagonism of nature, that the whole life of a +period springs into being at their touch.</p> + +<p>Take for instance two names, which always go +together, standing side by side at the summit +of Italian art,—Michael Angelo and Raphael.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> +Though Raphael was a genius of boundless exuberance, +and poured on the wall and canvas a flood +of forms, creating as nature creates, without pause +or self-repetition, yet there is a tone in all which +irresistibly speaks of the artist's own soul. He +created a world of Raphaels. Grace, sweetness, +and tenderness went into all his work. Every line +has the same characteristic qualities.</p> + +<p>Turn to the frescoes by Michael Angelo in the +Sistine Chapel. As we look up at those mighty +forms—prophets, sibyls, seers, with multitudes of +subordinate figures—we gradually trace in each +prophet, king, or bard an individual character. +Each one is himself. How fully each face and +attitude is differentiated by some inward life. +How each—David, Isaiah, Ezekiel, the Persian +and the Libyan sibyl—stands out, distinct, filled +with a power or a tenderness all his own. Michael +Angelo himself is not there, except as a fountain +of creative life, from whose genius all these +majestic persons come forth as living realities.</p> + +<p>Hanging on my walls are the well-known engravings +of Guido's Aurora and Leonardo da +Vinci's Last Supper. One of these is purely lyrical; +the other as clearly dramatic.</p> + +<p>The Aurora is so exquisitely lovely, the forms +so full of grace, the movement of all the figures so +rapid yet so firm, that I can never pass it without +stopping to enjoy its charms. But variety is absent. +The hours are lovely sisters, as Ovid describes +<span class="locked">sisters:—</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem" xml:lang="la" lang="la"> +<span class="i0q">"Facies non omnibus una,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nec diversa tamen, qualis decet esse sororum."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But when we turn to the Last Supper, we see +the dramatic artist at his best. The subject is +such as almost to compel a monotonous treatment, +but there is a wonderful variety in the attitudes +and grouping. Each apostle shows by his attitude, +gesture, expression, that he is affected differently +from all the others. Even the feet under +the table speak. Stand before the picture; +put yourself into the attitude of each apostle, +and you will immediately understand his state of +<span class="locked">mind.<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">2</a></span></p> + +<p>The mediæval religious artists were subjective, +sentimental, lyrical. In a scene like the crucifixion, +all the characters, whether apostles, Roman +soldiers, or Jewish Pharisees, hang their heads like +bulrushes.</p> + +<p>But see how Rubens, that great dramatic painter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> +represents the scene. The Magdalen, wild with +grief, with disheveled hair, has thrown herself at +the foot of the cross, clasping and kissing the feet +of Jesus. On the other faces are terror, dismay, +doubt, unbelief, mockery, curiosity, triumph, despair,—according +to each person's character and +attitude toward the event. Meantime the Roman +centurion, seated on his splendid horse, is deliberately +and carefully striking his spear into the side +of the sufferer. His face expresses only that he +has a duty to perform and means to fulfill it perfectly.</p> + +<p>As Rubens is greatly dramatic, his pupil and +follower, Vandyke, is a great lyrical artist, whose +noble aspiration and generous sentiment shows +itself in all his work.</p> + +<p>The school of Venice, with Titian and Tintoretto +at its head, is grandly dramatic and objective. +The school of Florence, with Guido and +Domenichino at its head, eminently lyrical and +subjective.</p> + +<p>If we had time, we might show that the two +masters of Greek philosophy, Plato and Aristotle, +are, the one lyrical, and intensely subjective, platonizing +the universe; and the other as evidently +objective, immersed in the study of things; rejoicing +in their variety, their individuality, their +persistence of type.</p> + +<p>The two masters of Greek history, Herodotus +and Thucydides, stand opposed to each other in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> +same way. Herodotus is the story-teller, the dramatic +raconteur, whose charming tales are as entertaining +as the "Arabian Nights." Thucydides is +the personal historian who puts himself into his +story, and determines its meaning and moral according +to his own theories and convictions.</p> + +<p>We have another example in Livy and Tacitus.</p> + +<p>The two great American orators most frequently +mentioned together are Webster and Clay. +Though you would smile if I were to call either of +them a lyric or a dramatic speaker, yet the essential +distinction we have been considering may be +clearly seen in them. Clay's inspiration was personal, +his influence, personal influence. His theme +was nothing; his treatment of it everything. But +Webster rose or fell with the magnitude and importance +of the occasion and argument. When +on the wrong side, he failed, for his intellect +would not work well except in the service of +reality and truth. But Clay was perhaps greatest +when arguing against all facts and all reason. +Then he summoned all his powers,—wit, illustration, +analogy, syllogisms, appeals to feeling, +prejudice, and passion; and so swept along his +confused and blinded audience to his conclusions.</p> + +<p>I think that subjective writers are loved more +than dramatic. We admire the one and we love +the other. We admire Shakespeare and love Milton; +we admire Chaucer and love Spenser; we +admire Dante and love Petrarch; we admire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> +Goethe and love Schiller; and if Byron had not +been so selfish a man, we should have loved him +too. We admire Michael Angelo and love Raphael; +we admire Rubens and love Vandyke; we admire +Robert Browning and love Mrs. Browning. In +short, we care more for the man who gives us +himself than for the man who gives us the whole +outside world.</p> + +<p>I have been able to give you only a few hints +of this curious distinction in art and literature. +But if we carry it in our mind, we shall find it +a key by which many doors may be unlocked. +It will enable us to classify authors, and understand +them better.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="DUALISM">DUALISM IN NATIONAL LIFE</a></h2> + +<p>The science of comparative ethnology is one +which has been greatly developed during the last +twenty-five years. The persistence of race tendencies, +as in the Semitic tribes, Jews and Arabs, +or in the Teutonic and Celtic branches of the great +Aryan stock, has been generally admitted. Though +few would now say, with the ethnologist Knox, +"Race is everything," none would wholly dispense +with this factor, as Buckle did, in writing a history +of civilization.</p> + +<p>Racial varieties have existed from prehistoric +times. Their origin is lost in the remote past. +As far as history goes back, we find them the same +that they are now. When and how the primitive +stock differentiated itself into the great varieties +which we call Aryan, Semitic, and Turanian, no +one can tell. But there are well-established varieties +of which we can trace the rise and development; +I mean national varieties. The character +of an Englishman or a Frenchman is as distinctly +marked as that of a Greek or Roman. There is a +general resemblance among all Englishmen; and +the same kind of resemblance among all Frenchmen, +Spaniards, Swedes, Poles. But this crystallization<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> +into national types of character has taken +place in a comparatively short period. We look +back to a time when there were no Englishmen in +Great Britain; but only Danes, Saxons, Normans, +and Celts; no Frenchmen in France; but Gauls, +Franks, and Romans. Gradually a distinct quality +emerges, and we have Frenchmen, Italians, Englishmen. +The type, once arrived at, persists, and +becomes more marked. It is marked by personal +looks and manners, by a common temperament, +a common style of thinking, feeling, acting; the +same kind of morals and manners. This type was +formed by the action and reaction of the divers +races brought side by side—Normans and Saxons +mutually influencing each other in England, and +being influenced again by climate, conditions of +life, forms of government, national customs. So, +at last, we have the well-developed national character,—a +mysterious but very certain element, from +which no individual can wholly escape. All drink +of that one spirit.</p> + +<p>Thus far I have been stating what we all know. +But now I would call your attention to a curious +fact, which, so far as I am aware, has not before +been noticed. It is this,—that when two nations, +during their forming period, have been in relation +to each other, there will be a peculiar character +developed in each. That is to say, they will differ +from each other according to certain well-defined +lines, and these differences will repeat themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> +again and again in history, in curious parallelisms, +or dualisms.</p> + +<p>To take the most familiar illustration of this: +consider the national qualities of the French and +English. The English and French, during several +centuries, have been acting and reacting on each +other, both in war and peace. Now, what are the +typical characteristics of these two nations? +Stated in a broad way they might be described +something as <span class="locked">follows:—</span></p> + +<p>The English mind is more practical than ideal; +its movement is slow but persistent; its progress +is by gradual development; it excels in the industrial +arts; it reverences power; it loves liberty +more than equality, not objecting to an aristocracy. +It tends to individualism. Its conquests have been +due to the power of order, and adherence to law.</p> + +<p>The French mind is more ideal than practical; +versatile, rather than persistent; its movements +rapid, its progress by crises and revolution, rather +than by development; it excels in whatever is +tasteful and artistic; it admires glory rather than +power; loves equality more than liberty; objects +to an aristocracy, but is ready to yield individual +rights at the bidding of the community; renouncing +individualism for the sake of communism; +and its successes have been due to enthusiasm +rather than to organization.</p> + +<p>Next, look at the Greeks and Romans. These +peoples were in intimate relations during the forming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> +period of national life; and we find in them +much the same contrasts of character that we do +in the English and the French. The Romans were +deficient in imagination, rather prosaic, fond of +rule and fixed methods, conservative of ancient +customs. The Greeks were quick and versatile; +artistic to a high degree; producing masterpieces +of architecture, painting, statuary, and creating +every form of literature; inventing the drama, the +epic poem, oratory, odes, history, philosophy. The +Romans borrowed from them their art and their +literature, but were themselves the creators of law, +the organizers of force. The Greeks and Romans +were the English and French of antiquity; and +you will notice that they occupy geographically the +same relative positions,—the Greeks and French +on the east; the Romans and English on the west.</p> + +<p>But now observe another curious fact. The +Roman Empire and the Greek republics came to +an end; and in Greece no important nationality +took the place of those wonderful commonwealths. +But in Italy, by the union of the old inhabitants +with the Teutonic northern invaders, modern Italy +was slowly formed into a new national life. No +longer deriving any important influence from +Greece (which had ceased to be a living and independent +force), Italy, during the Middle Ages, +came into relations with Spain and the Spaniards. +In Spain, as in Italy, a new national life was in +process of formation by the union of the Gothic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> +tribes, the Mohammedan invaders, and the ancient +inhabitants. The Spaniards occupied Sicily in +1282, and Naples fell later into their hands, about +1420, and in 1526 took possession of Milan. Thus +Italy and Spain were entangled in complex relations +during their forming period. What was the +final result? Modern Italians became the very +opposite of the ancient Romans. The Spaniards +on the west are now the Romans, and the Italians, +the Greeks. The Spaniards are slow, strong, conservative; +the Italians, quick-witted, full of feeling +and sentiment, versatile. The Spaniards trust +to organization, the Italians to enthusiasm. The +Spaniards are practical, the Italians ideal. In +fine, the Spaniards, on the west, are like the English +and the ancient Romans; the Italians, on the +east, like the French and the Greeks. The English +pride, the Roman pride, the Spanish pride, we +have all heard of; but the French, the Greeks, and +the Italians are not so much inclined to pride and +the love of power, as to vanity and the love of fame. +England, Rome, and Spain, united by law and +the love of organization, gradually became solidified +into empires; Greece, Italy, and France were +always divided into independent states, provinces, +or republics.</p> + +<p>Now, let us go east and consider two empires +that have grown up, side by side, with constant +mutual relations: Japan and China. The people +of Japan, on the east, are described by all travelers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> +in language that might be applied to the ancient +Greeks or the modern French. They are said to +be quick-witted, lively, volatile, ready of apprehension, +with a keen sense of honor, which prefers +death to disgrace; eminently a social and pleasure-seeking +people, fond of feasts, dancing, music, and +frolics. Men and women are pleasing, polite, +affable. On the other hand, the Chinese are described +as more given to reason than to sentiment, +prosaic, slow to acquire, but tenacious of all that is +gained, very conservative, great lovers of law and +order; with little taste for art, but much national +pride. They are the English of Asia; the Japanese, +the French.</p> + +<p>Go back to earlier times, when the two oldest +branches of the great Aryan stock diverged on the +table-lands of central Asia; the Vedic race descending +into India, and the Zend people passing +west, into Persia. The same duplex development +took place that we have seen in other instances. +The people on the Indus became what they still +are,—a people of sentiment and feeling. Like +the French, they are polite, and cultivate civility +and courtesy. The same tendency to local administration +which we see in France is found in India; +the commune being, in both, the germ-cell of national +life. The village communities in India are +little republics, almost independent of anything +outside. Dynasties change, new rulers and kings +arrive; Hindoo, Mohammedan, English; but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> +village community remains the same. Like the +Japanese, the French, the Italians, the inhabitants +of India are skillful manufacturers of ornamental +articles. Their religion tends to sentiment more +than to morality,—to feeling, rather than to action. +This is the development which India took +when these races inhabited the Punjaub. But +the ancient Persians were different. Their religion +included a morality which placed its essence in +right thinking and right action. A sentimental +religion, like that of India and of Italy, tends to +the adoration of saints and holy images and to +multiplied ceremonies. A moral religion, like +that of Persia, of Judea, and of the Teutonic races, +tends to the adoration and service of the unseen. +The Hindoos had innumerable gods, temples, idols. +The Persians worshiped the sacred fire, without +temple, priest, altar, sacrifice, or ritual. The ancient +Persians, wholly unlike the modern Persians, +were a people of action, energy, enterprise. But +when the old Persian empire fell, the character +of the people changed. Just as in Italy the old +Roman type disappeared, and was replaced by the +opposite in the modern Italian, so modern Persia +has swung round to the opposite pole of national +character. The Persians and Turks, both professing +the Mohammedan religion, belong to different +sects of that faith. The Turks are proud, tenacious +of old customs, grave in their demeanor, generally +just in their dealings, keeping their word. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> +Persians, as they appear in the works of Malcolm +and Monier, are changeable, kindly, polite, given +to ceremonies, fond of poetry, with taste for fine +art and decoration,—a mobile people. The Turk +is silent, the Persian talkative. The Turk is proud +and cold, the Persian affable and full of sentiment. +In short, the Persian is the Frenchman, and the +Turk the Englishman. And here again, as in the +other cases, the French type of nationality unfolds +itself on the east, and the English on the west.</p> + +<p>These national doubles have not been exhausted. +We have other instances of twin nations, born of +much the same confluence of race elements, of +whom, as of Esau and Jacob, it might be predicted +to the mother race, "Two nations shall be born +of thee; two kinds of people shall go forth from +thee; and the one shall be stronger than the +other." Thus there are the twin races which inhabit +Sweden and Norway; the Swedes, on the +east, are more intelligent, quick-witted, and versatile; +the Norwegians, on the west, slow, persistent, +and disposed to foreign conquest and adventure, +as shown in the sea-kings, who discovered Iceland, +Greenland, and Vinland; and the modern +emigrants who reap the vast wheatfields of Minnesota. +So, too, we might speak of the Poles and +Germans. The Polish nation, on the east, resembling +the French; the German, on the west, the +English.</p> + +<p>But time will not allow me to carry out these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> +parallels into details. The question is, are these +mere coincidences, or do they belong to the homologons +of history, where the same law of progress +repeats itself under different conditions, as the skeleton +of the mammal is found in the whale. Such +curious homologons we find in national events, and +they can hardly be explained as accidental coincidences. +For instance, the English and French +revolutions proceeded by six identical steps. First, +an insurrection of the people. Secondly, the dethronement +and execution of the king. Thirdly, +a military usurper. Fourthly, the old line restored. +Fifthly, after the death of the restored king, his +brother succeeds to the throne. Sixthly, a second +revolution drives the brother into exile, and a constitutional +king of a collateral branch takes his +place.</p> + +<p>But if these doubles which I have described +come by some mysterious law of polar force, as in +the magnet, where the two kinds of electricity are +repelled to opposite poles, and yet attract each +other, how account for the regularity of the geographical +position? Why is the French, Greek, +Hindoo, Persian, Italian, Polish, Swedish type always +at the east, and the English, Roman, Iranic, +Ottoman, Spanish, German, Norwegian type always +at the west? Are nations, like tides, affected by +the diurnal revolution of the globe? This, I confess, +I am unable to explain; and I leave it to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> +others to consider whether what I have described +is pure coincidence, or if it belongs in some way +to the philosophy of history and comes under universal +law.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="DID SHAKESPEARE WRITE BACON'S WORKS"><a id="SHAKESPEARE">DID SHAKESPEARE WRITE BACON'S WORKS</a><a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">3</a></h2> + +<p>The greatest of English poets is Shakespeare. +The greatest prose writer in English literature is +probably Bacon. Each of these writers, alone, +is a marvel of intellectual grandeur. It is hard +to understand how one man, in a few years, could +have written all the masterpieces of Shakespeare,—thirty-six +dramas, each a work of genius such +as the world will never let die. It is a marvel +that from one mind could proceed the tender +charm of such poems as "Romeo and Juliet," +"As You Like It," or "The Winter's Tale;" +the wild romance of "The Tempest," or of "A +Midsummer Night's Dream;" the awful tragedies +of "Lear," "Macbeth," and "Othello;" the profound +philosophy of "Hamlet;" the perfect fun +of "Twelfth Night," and "The Merry Wives of +Windsor;" and the reproductions of Roman and +English history. It is another marvel that a man +like Bacon, immersed nearly all his life in business, +a successful lawyer, an ambitious statesman, +a courtier cultivating the society of the sovereign +and the favorites of the sovereign, should also be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> +the founder of a new system of philosophy, which +has been the source of many inventions and new +sciences down to the present day; should have critically +surveyed the whole domain of knowledge, and +become a master of English literary style. Each +of these phenomena is a marvel; but put them +together, and assume that one man did it all, and +you have, not a marvel, but a miracle. Yet, this +is the result which the monistic tendency of modern +thought has reached. Several critics of our time +have attempted to show that Bacon, besides writing +all the works usually attributed to him, was also +the author of all of Shakespeare's plays and poems.</p> + +<p>This theory was first publicly maintained by +Miss Delia Bacon in 1857. It had been, before, +in 1856, asserted by an Englishman, William +Henry Smith, but only in a small volume printed +for private circulation. This book made a distinguished +convert in the person of Lord Palmerston, +who openly declared his conviction that Bacon was +the author of Shakespeare's plays. Two papers +by Appleton Morgan, written in the same sense, +appeared last year in "Appletons' Journal." But +far the most elaborate and masterly work in support +of this attempt to dethrone Shakespeare, and +to give his seat on the summit of Parnassus to +Lord Bacon, is the book by Judge Holmes, published +in 1866. He has shown much ability, and +brought forward every argument which has any +plausibility connected with it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> +Judge Holmes was, of course, obliged to admit +the extreme antecedent improbability of his position. +Certainly it is very difficult to believe that +the author of such immortal works should have +been willing, for any reason, permanently to conceal +his authorship; or, if he could hide that fact, +should have been willing to give the authorship +to another; or, if willing, should have been able +so effectually to conceal the substitution as to blind +the eyes of all mankind down to the days of Miss +Delia Bacon and Judge Holmes.</p> + +<p>What, then, are the arguments used by Judge +Holmes? The proofs he adduces are mainly these: +(1st) That there are many coincidences and parallelisms +of thought and expression between the +works of Bacon and Shakespeare; (2d) that there +is an amount of knowledge and learning in the +plays, which Lord Bacon possessed, but which +Shakespeare could hardly have had. Besides these +principal proofs, there are many other reasons +given which are of inferior weight,—a phrase in +a letter of Sir Tobie Matthew; another sentence +of Bacon himself, which might be possibly taken +as an admission that he was the author of "Richard +II.;" the fact that some plays which Shakespeare +certainly did not write were first published +with his name or his initials. But his chief argument +is that Shakespeare had neither the learning +nor the time to write the plays, both of which +Lord Bacon possessed; and that there are curious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> +coincidences between the plays and the prose +works.</p> + +<p>These arguments have all been answered, and +the world still believes in Shakespeare as before. +But I have thought it might be interesting to show +how easily another argument could be made of an +exactly opposite kind,—how easily all these proofs +might be reversed. I am inclined to think that if +we are to believe that one man was the author both +of the plays and of the philosophy, it is much more +probable that Shakespeare wrote the works of +Bacon than that Bacon wrote the works of Shakespeare. +For there is no evidence that Bacon was +a poet as well as a philosopher; but there is ample +evidence that Shakespeare was a philosopher as +well as a poet. This, no doubt, assumes that +Shakespeare actually wrote the plays; but this we +have a right to assume, in the outset of the discussion, +in order to stand on an equal ground with +our opponents.</p> + +<p>The Bacon vs. Shakespeare argument runs thus: +"Assuming that Lord Bacon wrote the works +commonly attributed to him, there is reason to +believe that he also wrote the plays and poems +commonly attributed to Shakespeare."</p> + +<p>The counter argument would then be: "Assuming +that Shakespeare wrote the plays, and +poems commonly attributed to him, there is reason +to believe that he also wrote the works commonly +attributed to Bacon."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> +This is clearly the fair basis of the discussion. +What is assumed on the one side on behalf of +Bacon we have a right to assume on the other on +behalf of Shakespeare. But before proceeding on +this basis, I must reply to the only argument of +Judge Holmes which has much apparent weight. +He contends that it was impossible for Shakespeare, +with the opportunities he possessed, to +acquire the knowledge which we find in the plays. +Genius, however great, cannot give the knowledge +of medical and legal terms, nor of the ancient +languages. Now, it has been shown that the plays +afford evidence of a great knowledge of law and +medicine; and of works in Latin and Greek, +French and Italian. How could such information +have been obtained by a boy who had no advantages +of study except at a country grammar +school, which he left at the age of fourteen, who +went to London at twenty-three and became an +actor, and who spent most of his life as actor, +theatrical proprietor, and man of business?</p> + +<p>This objection presents difficulties to us, and for +our time, when boys sometimes spend years in the +study of Latin grammar. We cannot understand +the rapidity with which all sorts of knowledge +were imbibed in the period of the Renaissance. +Then every one studied everything. Then Greek +and Latin books were read by prince and peasant, +by queens and generals. Then all sciences and +arts were learned by men and women, by young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> +and old. Thus speaks Robert Burton—who was +forty years old when Shakespeare died: "What +a world of books offers itself, in all subjects, arts +and sciences, to the sweet content and capacity of +the reader! In arithmetic, geometry, perspective, +opticks, astronomy, architecture, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">sculptura</i>, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">pictura</i>, +of which so many and elaborate treatises +have lately been written; in mechanics and their +mysteries, military matters, navigation, riding of +horses, fencing, swimming, gardening, planting, +great tomes of husbandry, cookery, faulconry, +hunting, fishing, fowling; with exquisite pictures +of all sports and games.... What vast tomes +are extant in law, physic, and divinity, for profit, +pleasure, practice.... Some take an infinite delight +to study the very languages in which these +books were written: Hebrew, Greek, Syriac, Chaldee, +Arabick, and the like." This was the fashion +of that day, to study all languages, all subjects, all +authors. A mind like that of Shakespeare could +not have failed to share this universal desire for +knowledge. After leaving the grammar school, he +had nine years for such studies before he went to +London. As soon as he began to write plays, he +had new motives for study; for the subjects of +the drama in vogue were often taken from classic +story.</p> + +<p>But Shakespeare had access to another source +of knowledge besides the study of books. When +he reached London, five or six play-houses were in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> +full activity, and new plays were produced every +year in vast numbers. New plays were then in +constant demand, just as the new novel and new +daily or weekly paper are called for now. The +drama was the periodical literature of the time. +Dramatic authors wrote with wonderful rapidity, +borrowing their subjects from plays already on the +stage, and from classic or recent history. Marlowe, +Greene, Lyly, Peele, Kyd, Lodge, Nash, +Chettle, Munday, Wilson, were all dramatic writers +before Shakespeare. Philip Henslowe, a manager +or proprietor of the theatres, bought two hundred +and seventy plays in about ten years. Thomas +Heywood wrote a part or the whole of two hundred +and twenty plays during his dramatic career. +Each acted play furnished material for some other. +They were the property of the play-houses, not of +the writers. One writer after another has accused +Shakespeare of indifference to his reputation, because +he did not publish a complete and revised +edition of his works during his life. How could +he do this, since they did not belong to him, but +to the theatre? Yet every writer was at full liberty +to make use of all he could remember of other +plays, as he saw them acted; and Shakespeare +was not slow to use this opportunity. No doubt +he gained knowledge in this way, which he afterward +employed much better than did the authors +from whom he took it.</p> + +<p>The first plays printed under Shakespeare's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> +name did not appear till he had been connected +with the stage eleven years. This gives time +enough for him to have acquired all the knowledge +to be found in his books. That he had read Latin +and Greek books we are told by Ben Jonson; +though that great scholar undervalued, as was +natural, Shakespeare's attainments in those languages.</p> + +<p>But Ben Jonson himself furnishes the best reply +to those who think that Shakespeare could not +have gained much knowledge of science or literature +because he did not go to Oxford or Cambridge. +What opportunities had Ben Jonson? +A bricklayer by trade, called back immediately +from his studies to use the trowel; then running +away and enlisting as a common soldier; fighting +in the Low Countries; coming home at nineteen, +and going on the stage; sent to prison for fighting +a duel—what opportunities for study had he? +He was of a strong animal nature, combative, in +perpetual quarrels, fond of drink, in pecuniary +troubles, married at twenty, with a wife and children +to support. Yet Jonson was celebrated for +his learning. He was master of Greek and Latin +literature. He took his characters from Athenæus, +Libanius, Philostratus. Somehow he had found +time for all this study. "Greek and Latin thought," +says Taine, "were incorporated with his own, and +made a part of it. He knew alchemy, and was as +familiar with alembics, retorts, crucibles, etc., as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> +he had passed his life in seeking the philosopher's +stone. He seems to have had a specialty in every +branch of knowledge. He had all the methods +of Latin art,—possessed the brilliant conciseness +of Seneca and Lucan." If Ben Jonson—a bricklayer, +a soldier, a fighter, a drinker—could yet find +time to acquire this vast knowledge, is there any +reason why Shakespeare, with much more leisure, +might not have done the like? He did not possess +as much Greek and Latin lore as Ben Jonson, +who, probably, had Shakespeare in his mind when +he wrote the following passage in his "Poetaster:"</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"His learning savors not the school-like gloss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That most consists in echoing words and terms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soonest wins a man an empty name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor any long or far-fetched circumstance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrapt in the curious generalties of art—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a direct and analytic sum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the worth and first effects of art.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for his poesy, ’tis so rammed with life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it shall gather strength of life with being,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And live hereafter more admired than now."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The only other serious proof offered in support +of the proposition that Bacon wrote the immortal +Shakespearean drama is that certain coincidences +of thought and language are found in the works of +the two writers. When we examine them, however, +they seem very insignificant. Take, as an +example, two or three, on which Judge Holmes +relies, and which he thinks very striking.</p> + +<p>Holmes says (page 48) that Bacon quotes Aristotle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> +who said that "young men were no fit hearers +of moral philosophy," and Shakespeare says +("Troilus and Cressida"):—</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Unlike young men whom Aristotle thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfit to hear moral philosophy."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">But since Bacon's remark was published in 1605, +and "Troilus and Cressida" did not appear until +1609, Shakespeare might have seen it there, and +introduced it into his play from his recollection of +the passage in the "Advancement of Learning."</p> + +<p>Another coincidence mentioned by Holmes is +that both writers use the word "thrust:" Bacon +saying that a ship "thrust into Weymouth;" and +Shakespeare, that "Milan was thrust from Milan." +He also thinks it cannot be an accident that both +frequently use the word "wilderness," though in +very different ways. Both also compare Queen +Elizabeth to a "star." Bacon makes Atlantis an +island in mid-ocean; and the island of Prospero is +also in mid-ocean. Both have a good deal to say +about "mirrors," and "props," and like phrases.</p> + +<p>Such reasoning as this has very little weight. +You cannot prove two contemporaneous writings +to have proceeded from one author by the same +words and phrases being found in both; for these +are in the vocabulary of the time, and are the common +property of all who read and write.</p> + +<p>My position is that if either of these writers +wrote the works attributed to the other, it is much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> +more likely that Shakespeare wrote the philosophical +works of Bacon than that Bacon wrote the +poetical works of Shakespeare. Assuming then, +as we have a right to do in this argument, that +Shakespeare wrote the plays, what reasons are there +for believing that he also wrote the philosophy?</p> + +<p>First, this assumption will explain at once that +hitherto insoluble problem of the contradiction +between Bacon's character and conduct and his +works. How could he have been, at the same +time, what Pope calls <span class="locked">him,—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind"?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">He was, in his philosophy, the leader of his age, +the reformer of old abuses, the friend of progress. +In his conduct, he was, as Macaulay has shown, +"far behind his age,—far behind Sir Edward +Coke; clinging to exploded abuses, withstanding +the progress of improvement, struggling to push +back the human mind." In his writings, he was +calm, dignified, noble. In his life, he was an +office-seeker through long years, seeking place by +cringing subservience to men in power, made +wretched to the last degree when office was denied +him, addressing servile supplications to noblemen +and to the sovereign. To gain and keep office he +would desert his friends, attack his benefactors, +and make abject apologies for any manly word he +might have incautiously uttered. His philosophy +rose far above earth and time, and sailed supreme<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> +in the air of universal reason. But "his desires +were set on things below. Wealth, precedence, +titles, patronage, the mace, the seals, the coronet, +large houses, fair gardens, rich manors, massy services +of plate, gay hangings," were "objects for +which he stooped to everything and endured everything." +These words of Macaulay have been +thought too severe. But we defy any admirer of +Bacon to read his life, by Spedding, without admitting +their essential truth. How was it possible +for a man to spend half of his life in the meanest +of pursuits, and the other half in the noblest?</p> + +<p>This difficulty is removed if we suppose that +Bacon, the courtier and lawyer, with his other +ambitions, was desirous of the fame of a great philosopher; +and that he induced Shakespeare, then +in the prime of his powers, to help him write the +prose essays and treatises which are his chief +works. He has himself admitted that he did actually +ask the aid of the dramatists of his time in +writing his books. This remarkable fact is stated +by Bacon in a letter to Tobie Matthew, written in +June, 1623, in which he says that he is devoting +himself to making his writings more perfect—instancing +the "Essays" and the "Advancement +of Learning"—"by the help of some good pens, +which forsake me not." One of these pens was +that of Ben Jonson, the other might easily have +been that of Shakespeare. Certainly there was no +better pen in England at that time than his.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> +When Shakespeare's plays were being produced, +Lord Bacon was fully occupied in his law practice, +his parliamentary duties, and his office-seeking. +The largest part of the Shakespeare drama was put +on the stage, as modern research renders probable, +in the ten or twelve years beginning with 1590. In +1597 Shakespeare was rich enough to buy the new +place at Stratford-on-Avon, and was also lending +money. In 1604 he was part owner of the Globe +Theatre, so that the majority of the plays which +gained for him this fortune must have been produced +before that time. Now, these were just the +busiest years of Bacon's life. In 1584 he was +elected to Parliament. About the same time, he +wrote his famous letter to Queen Elizabeth. In +1585 he was already seeking office from Walsingham +and Burleigh. In 1586 he sat in Parliament +for Taunton, and was active in debate and on committees. +He became a bencher in the same year, +and began to plead in the courts of Westminster. +In 1589 he became queen's counsel, and member +of Parliament for Liverpool. After this he continued +active, both in Parliament and at the bar. +He sought, by the help of Essex, to become Attorney-General. +From that period, as crown lawyer, +his whole time and thought were required to trace +and frustrate the conspiracies with which the kingdom +was full. It was evident that during these +years he had no time to compose fifteen or twenty +of the greatest works in any literature.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> +But how was Shakespeare occupied when Bacon's +philosophy appeared? The "Advancement of +Learning" was published in 1605, after most of +the plays had been written, as we learn from the +fact of Shakespeare's purchase of houses and +lands. The "Novum Organum" was published in +1620, after Shakespeare's death. But it had been +written years before; revised, altered, and copied +again and again—it is said twelve times. Bacon +had been engaged upon it during thirty years, and +it was at last published incomplete and in fragments. +If Shakespeare assisted in the composition +of this work, his death in 1616 would account, +at once, for its being left unfinished. And Shakespeare +would have had ample time to furnish the +ideas of the "Organum" in the last years of his +life, when he had left the theatre. In 1613 he +bought a house in Black Friars, where Ben Jonson +also lived. Might not this have been that they +might more conveniently coöperate in assisting +Bacon to write the "Novum Organum"?</p> + +<p>When we ask whether it would have been easier +for the author of the philosophy to have composed +the drama, or the dramatic poet to have written +the philosophy, the answer will depend on which +is the greater work of the two. The greater includes +the less, but the less cannot include the +greater. Now, the universal testimony of modern +criticism in England, Germany, and France declares +that no larger, deeper, or ampler intellect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> +has ever appeared than that which produced the +Shakespeare drama. This "myriad-minded" poet +was also philosopher, man of the world, acquainted +with practical affairs, one of those who saw the +present and foresaw the future. All the ideas of +the Baconian philosophy might easily have had +their home in this vast intelligence. Great as +are the thoughts of the "Novum Organum," they +are far inferior to that world of thought which is +in the drama. We can easily conceive that Shakespeare, +having produced in his prime the wonders +and glories of the plays, should in his after leisure +have developed the leading ideas of the Baconian +philosophy. But it is difficult to imagine that +Bacon, while devoting his main strength to politics, +to law, and to philosophy, should as a mere +pastime for his leisure, have produced in his idle +moments the greatest intellectual work ever done +on earth.</p> + +<p>If the greater includes the less, the mind of +Shakespeare includes that of Bacon, and not <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">vice +versa</i>. This will appear more plainly if we consider +the quality of intellect displayed respectively +in the dramas and the philosophy. The one is +synthetic, creative; the other analytic, critical. +The one puts together, the other takes apart and +examines. Now, the genius which can put together +can also take apart; but it by no means +follows that the power of taking apart implies that +of putting together. A watch-maker, who can put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> +a watch together, can easily take it to pieces; but +many a child who has taken his watch to pieces +has found it impossible to put it together again.</p> + +<p>When we compare the Shakespeare plays and +the Baconian philosophy, it is curious to see how +the one is throughout a display of the synthetic +intellect, and the other of the analytic. The plays +are pure creation, the production of living wholes. +They people our thought with a race of beings +who are living persons, and not pale abstractions. +These airy nothings take flesh and form, and have +a name and local habitation forever on the earth. +Hamlet, Desdemona, Othello, Miranda, are as real +people as Queen Elizabeth or Mary of Scotland. +But when we turn to the Baconian philosophy, this +faculty is absent. We have entered the laboratory +of a great chemist, and are surrounded by retorts +and crucibles, tests and re-agents, where the work +done is a careful analysis of all existing things, to +find what are their constituents and their qualities. +Poetry creates, philosophy takes to pieces and examines.</p> + +<p>It is, I think, a historic fact, that while those +authors whose primary quality is poetic genius +have often been also, on a lower plane, eminent +as philosophers, there is, perhaps, not a single +instance of one whose primary distinction was +philosophic analysis, who has also been, on a +lower plane, eminent as a poet. Milton, Petrarch, +Goethe, Lucretius, Voltaire, Coleridge, were primarily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> +and eminently poets; but all excelled, too, +in a less degree, as logicians, metaphysicians, men +of science, and philosophers. But what instance +have we of any man like Bacon, chiefly eminent +as lawyer, statesman, and philosopher, who was +also distinguished, though in a less degree, as a +poet? Among great lawyers, is there one eminent +also as a dramatic or lyric author? Cicero tried +it, but his verses are only doggerel. In Lord +Campbell's list of the lord chancellors and chief +justices of England no such instance appears. If +Bacon wrote the Shakespeare drama, he is the one +exception to an otherwise universal rule. But if +Shakespeare coöperated in the production of the +Baconian philosophy, he belongs to a class of poets +who have done the same. Coleridge was one of +the most imaginative of poets. His "Christabel" +and "Ancient Mariner" are pure creations. But +in later life he originated a new system of philosophy +in England, the influence of which has not +ceased to be felt to our day. The case would be +exactly similar if we suppose that Shakespeare, +having ranged the realm of imaginative poetry in +his youth, had in his later days of leisure coöperated +with Bacon and Ben Jonson in producing +the "Advancement of Learning" and the "Novum +Organum." We can easily think of them +as meeting, sometimes at the house of Ben Jonson, +sometimes at that of Shakespeare in Black Friars, +and sometimes guests at that private house built<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> +by Lord Bacon for purposes of study, near his +splendid palace of Gorhambury. "A most ingeniously +contrived house," says Basil Montagu, +"where, in the society of his philosophical friends, +he devoted himself to study and meditation." +Aubrey tells us that he had the aid of Hobbes in +writing down his thoughts. Lord Bacon appears to +have possessed the happy gift of using other men's +faculties in his service. Ben Jonson, who had +been a thorough student of chemistry, alchemy, +and science in all the forms then known, aided +Bacon in his observations of nature. Hobbes +aided him in giving clearness to his thoughts +and his language. And from Shakespeare he may +have derived the radical and central ideas of his +philosophy. He used the help of Dr. Playfer to +translate his philosophy into Latin. Tobie Matthew +gives him the last argument of Galileo for +the Copernican system. He sends his works to +others, begging them to correct the thoughts and +the style. It is evident, then, that he would have +been glad of the concurrence of Shakespeare, and +that could easily be had, through their common +friend, Ben Jonson.</p> + +<p>If Bacon wrote the plays of Shakespeare, it is +difficult to give any satisfactory reason for his concealment +of that authorship. He had much pride, +not to say vanity, in being known as an author. +He had his name attached to all his other works, +and sent them as presents to the universities, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> +to individuals, with letters calling their attention +to these books. Would he have been willing permanently +to conceal the fact of his being the author +of the best poetry of his time? The reasons assigned +by Judge Holmes for this are not satisfactory. +They are: his desire to rise in the profession +of the law, the low reputation of a play-writer, his +wish to write more freely under an incognito, and +his wish to rest his reputation on his philosophical +works. But if he were reluctant to be regarded +as the author of "Lear" and "Hamlet," he was +willing to be known as the writer of "Masques," +and a play about "Arthur," exhibited by the students +of Gray's Inn. It is an error to say that +the reputation of a play-writer was low. Judge +Holmes, himself, tells us that there was nothing +remarkable in a barrister of the inns of court writing +for the stage. Ford and Beaumont were both +lawyers as well as eminent play-writers. Lord +Backhurst, Lord Brooke, Sir Henry Wotton, all +wrote plays. And we find nothing in the Shakespeare +dramas which Bacon need have feared to +say under his own name. It would have been +ruin to Sir Philip Francis to have avowed himself +the author of "Junius." But the Shakespeare +plays satirized no one, and made no enemies. If +there were any reasons for concealment, they certainly +do not apply to the year 1623, when the +first folio appeared, which was after the death +of Shakespeare and the fall of Bacon. The acknowledgment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> +of their authorship at that time +could no longer interfere with Bacon's rise. And +it would be very little to the credit of his intelligence +to assume that he was not then aware of the +value of such works, or that he did not desire +the reputation of being their author. It would +have been contrary to his very nature not to have +wished for the credit of that authorship.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, there would be nothing +surprising in the fact of Shakespeare's laying no +claim to credit for having assisted in the composition +of the "Advancement of Learning." Shakespeare +was by nature as reticent and modest as +Bacon was egotistical and ostentatious. What +a veil is drawn over the poet's personality in his +sonnets! We read in them his inmost sentiments, +but they tell us absolutely nothing of the events of +his life, or the facts of his position. And if, as +we assume, he was one among several who helped +Lord Bacon, though he might have done the most, +there was no special reason why he should proclaim +that fact.</p> + +<p>Gervinus has shown, in three striking pages, the +fundamental harmony between the ideas and mental +tendencies of Shakespeare and Bacon. Their +philosophy of man and of life was the same. If, +then, Bacon needed to be helped in thinking out +his system, there was no one alive who would have +given him such stimulus and encouragement as +Shakespeare. This also may explain his not mentioning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> +the name of Shakespeare in his works; +for that might have called too much attention to +the source from which he received this important +aid.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, I regard the monistic theory as in +the last degree improbable. We have two great +authors, and not one only. But if we are compelled +to accept the view which ascribes a common +source to the Shakespeare drama and the Baconian +philosophy, I think there are good reasons for +preferring Shakespeare to Bacon as the author +of both. When the plays appeared, Bacon was +absorbed in pursuits and ambitions foreign to such +work; his accepted writings show no sign of such +creative power; he was the last man in the world +not to take the credit of such a success, and had +no motive to conceal his authorship. On the other +hand, there was a period in Shakespeare's life +when he had abundant leisure to coöperate in the +literary plans of Bacon; his ample intellect was +full of the ideas which took form in those works; +and he was just the person neither to claim nor to +desire any credit for lending such assistance.</p> + +<p>There is, certainly, every reason to believe that, +among his other ambitions, Bacon desired that of +striking out a new path of discovery, and initiating +a better method in the study of nature. But +we know that, in doing this, he sought aid in +all quarters, and especially among Shakespeare's +friends and companions. It is highly probable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> +therefore, that he became acquainted with the +great dramatist, and that Shakespeare knew of +Bacon's designs and became interested in them. +And if so, who could offer better suggestions than +he; and who would more willingly accept them +than the overworked statesman and lawyer, who +wished to be also a philosopher?</p> + +<p>Finally, we may refer those who believe that the +shape of the brow and head indicates the quality +of mental power to the portraits of the two men. +The head of Shakespeare, according to all the +busts and pictures which remain to us, belongs +to the type which antiquity has transmitted to us +in the portraits of Homer and Plato. In this vast +dome of thought there was room for everything. +The head of Bacon is also a grand one, but less +ample, less complete—less</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem" xml:lang="la" lang="la"> +<span class="i0q">"Teres, totus atque rotundus."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">These portraits therefore agree with all we know +of the writings, in showing us which, and which +only, of the two minds was capable of containing +the other.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="THE EVOLUTION OF A GREAT POEM"><a id="EVOLUTION">THE EVOLUTION OF A GREAT POEM</a><a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">4</a></h2> + +<p>There are at least three existing manuscripts +of Grays "Elegy," in the author's autograph. +The earliest, containing the largest number of +variations and the most curious, is that now in the +possession of Sir William Fraser in London, and +for which he paid the large sum of £230, in 1875. +By the kindness of Sir William Fraser, I examined +this manuscript at his rooms in London, in 1882. +A facsimile copy of this valuable autograph, photographed +from the original in 1862, is now before +me. A second copy in the handwriting of Gray, +called the Pembroke manuscript, is in the library +of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. A facsimile of +this autograph appears in Matthias's edition of +Mason's "Gray," published in 1814. A third +copy, in the poet's handwriting, copied by him for +his friend, Dr. Wharton, is in the British Museum. +I examined this, also, in 1882, and had an accurate +copy made for me by one of the assistants +in the museum. This was written after the other +two, as is evident from the fact that it approaches +most nearly to the form which the "Elegy" finally +assumed when printed. There are only nine or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> +ten expressions in this manuscript which differ +from the poem as published by Gray. Most of +these are unimportant. "<em>Or</em>" he changed, in +three places, into "and." "<em>And</em> in our ashes" +he changed into "Even in our ashes," which was +a clear improvement. It was not until after this +third copy was written that the improvement was +made which changed</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Forgive, ye Proud, the involuntary Fault,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Memory to These no Trophies raise,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">into</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">Another important alteration of a single word was +also made after this third manuscript was written. +This was the change, in the forty-fifth stanza, of +"Reins of Empire" into "Rod of Empire."</p> + +<p>"The Elegy in a Country Churchyard" became +at once one of the most popular poems in the +language, and has remained so to this time. It +has been equally a favorite with common readers, +with literary men, and with poets. Its place will +always be in the highest rank of English poetry. +The fact, however, is—and it is a very curious +fact—that this first-class poem was the work of a +third-class poet. For Thomas Gray certainly does +not stand in the first class with Shakespeare, +Spenser, and Milton. Nor can he fairly be put in +the second class with Dryden, Pope, Burns, Wordsworth, +and Byron. He belongs to the third, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> +Cowley, Cowper, Shelley, and Keats. There may +be a doubt concerning some of whom I have +named, but there can be no doubt that Gray will +never stand higher than those who may be placed +by critics in the third class. Yet it is equally +certain that he has produced a first-class poem. +How is this paradox to be explained?</p> + +<p>What is the charm of Gray's "Elegy"? The +thoughts are sufficiently commonplace. That all +men must die, that the most humble may have had +in them some power which, under other circumstances, +might have made them famous,—these +are somewhat trite statements; but the fascination +of the verses consists in the tone, solemn but +serene, which pervades them; in the pictures of +coming night, of breaking day, of cheerful rural +life, of happy homes; and lastly, in the perfect +finish of the verse and the curious felicity of the +diction. In short, the poem is a work of high art. +It was not inspired, but it was carefully elaborated. +And this appears plainly when we compare +it, as it stands in the Fraser manuscript, with +its final form.</p> + +<p>This poem was a work of eight years. Its heading +in the Fraser manuscript is "Stanzas Wrote +in a Country Churchyard." It was, however, begun +at Stoke in 1742, continued at Cambridge, +and had its last touches added at Stoke-Pogis, +June 12, 1750. In a letter to Horace Walpole of +that date, Gray says, "Having put an end to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> +thing whose beginning you saw long ago, I immediately +send it to you."</p> + +<p>The corrections made by Gray during this +period were many, and were probably all improvements. +Many poets when they try to improve +their verses only injure them. But Gray's corrections +were invariably for the better. We may +even say that, if it had been published as it was +first written, and as it now stands in the Fraser +manuscript, it would have ranked only with the +best poetry of Shenstone or Cowper. Let me +indicate some of the most important changes.</p> + +<p>In line seventeen, the fine epithet of "incense-breathing" +was an addition.</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">for the Fraser manuscript <span class="locked">reads—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Forever sleep. The breezy call of morn."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">Nineteenth line, Fraser manuscript <span class="locked">has—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Or chanticleer so shrill, or echoing horn,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">corrected to</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Twenty-fourth—"Coming kiss" was corrected +to "envied kiss."</p> + +<p>Forty-third—"Awake the silent dust" was +corrected to "provoke the silent dust."</p> + +<p>Forty-seventh—The correction of "Reins of +Empire" to "Rod of Empire" first appears in +the margin of the Pembroke manuscript.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> +Fifty-seventh—In the Fraser manuscript it +<span class="locked">reads—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Some village Cato, who with dauntless breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some mute, inglorious Tully here may rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some Cæsar," etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">In the Pembroke manuscript, these classical personages +have disappeared, and the great improvement +was made of substituting Hampden, Milton, +and Cromwell, and thus maintaining the English +coloring of the poem.</p> + +<p>Fifty-first—This verse, beginning, "But Knowledge," +etc., was placed, in the Fraser manuscript, +after the one beginning, "Some village Cato," but +with a note in the margin to transfer it to where +it now stands. The third line of the stanza was +first written, "Chill Penury had damped." This +was first corrected to "depressed," and afterward +to "repressed."</p> + +<p>Fifty-fifth—"Their fate forbade," changed to +"Their lot forbade."</p> + +<p>Sixty-sixth—"Their struggling virtues" was +improved to "Their growing virtues."</p> + +<p>Seventy-first—"Crown the shrine" was altered +to "heap the shrine," and in the next line "Incense +hallowed by the muse's flame" was wisely +changed to "Incense kindled by the muse's flame."</p> + +<p>After the seventy-second line stand, in the +Fraser manuscript, the following stanzas, which +Gray, with admirable taste, afterward omitted. +But, before he decided to leave them out altogether,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> +he drew a black line down the margin, +indicating that he would transfer them to another +place. These stanzas were originally intended to +close the poem. Afterward the thought occurred +to him of "the hoary-headed swain" and the +"Epitaph."</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"The thoughtless World to Majesty may bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exalt the Brave and idolize Success,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But more to Innocence their safety owe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than Power and Genius e'er conspire to bless.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"And thou, who, mindful of the unhonored Dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dost, in these Notes, their artless Tale relate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Night and lonely Contemplation led<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To linger in the gloomy Walks of Fate;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Hark, how the sacred Calm that broods around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bids every fierce, tumultuous Passion cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In still, small Accents whispering from the Ground<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A grateful Earnest of eternal Peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"No more with Reason and thyself at Strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give anxious Cares and useless Wishes room;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But through the cool, sequestered Vale of Life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pursue the silent Tenor of thy Doom."<br /></span> +</div> +</div></div> + +<p>After these stanzas, according to the Fraser +manuscript, were to follow these lines, which I do +not remember to have seen <span class="locked">elsewhere:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"If chance that e'er some pensive Spirit more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By sympathetic Musings here delayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With vain though kind Enquiry shall explore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy once-loved Haunt, thy long-neglected Shade,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Haply," etc.<br /></span> +</div> +</div></div> + +<p>But Gray soon dispensed with this feeble stanza,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> +and made a new one by changing it into the one +<span class="locked">beginning:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"For thee, who mindful."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">The ninety-ninth and one hundredth lines stand in +the Fraser <span class="locked">manuscript—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"With hasty footsteps brush the dews away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the high brow of yonder hanging lawn."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The following stanza is noticeable for the inversions +so frequent in Gray, and which he had, +perhaps, unconsciously adopted from his familiarity +with the classics. He afterward omitted <span class="locked">it:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Him have we seen the greenwood side along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While o'er the heath we hied, our labors done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft as the wood-lark piped her farewell song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">In the manuscript the word is spelled "whistful." +In line 101, "hoary beech" is corrected to "spreading +beech," and afterward to "nodding beech."</p> + +<p>Line 113—"Dirges meet" was changed to +"dirges dire;" and after 116 came the beautiful +stanza, afterward omitted by Gray as being <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">de trop</i> +in this <span class="locked">place:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"There, scattered oft, the earliest of the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By hands unseen, are showers of violets found;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The redbreast loves to build and warble there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And little footsteps lightly print the ground."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">Even in this verse there were two corrections. +"Robin" was altered in the Fraser manuscript +into "redbreast," and "frequent violets" into +"showers of violets."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> +One of the most curious accidents to which this +famous poem has been subjected was an erroneous +change made in the early editions, which has been +propagated almost to our time. In the stanza <span class="locked">beginning—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"The boast of Heraldry, the pomp of Power,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">Gray wrote</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Awaits alike the inevitable Hour."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">And so it stands in all three manuscripts, and in +the printed edition which he himself superintended. +His meaning was, "The inevitable Hour awaits +everything. It stands there, waiting the boast +of Heraldry," etc. But his editors, misled by his +inverted style, supposed that it was the gifts of +Heraldry, Power, Beauty, etc., that were waiting, +and therefore corrected what they thought Gray's +bad grammar, and printed the word "await." But +so they destroyed the meaning. These things were +not waiting at all for the dread hour; they were +enjoying themselves, careless of its approach. +But "the hour" was waiting for them. Gray's +original reading has been restored in the last +editions.</p> + +<p>In tracing the development of this fine poem, we +see it gradually improving under his careful touch, +till it becomes a work of high art. In some poets—Wordsworth, +for example—inspiration is at +its maximum, and art at its minimum. In Gray, +I think, inspiration was at its minimum, and art at +its maximum.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="RELIGIOUS_AND_PHILOSOPHICAL" id="RELIGIOUS_AND_PHILOSOPHICAL"> +<span class="larger">RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL</span></a></h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2 title="AFFINITIES OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY"><a id="AFFINITIES">AFFINITIES OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY</a><a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">5</a></h2> + +<p>It has long been known that many analogies +exist between Buddhism and Christianity. The +ceremonies, ritual, and rites of the Buddhists strikingly +resemble those of the Roman Catholic Church. +The Buddhist priests are monks. They take the +same three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience +which are binding on those of the Roman Church. +They are mendicants, like the mendicant orders of +St. Francis and St. Dominic. They are tonsured; +use strings of beads, like the rosary, with which to +count their prayers; have incense and candles in +their worship; use fasts, processions, litanies, and +holy water. They have something akin to the +adoration of saints; repeat prayers in an unknown +tongue; have a chanted psalmody with a double +choir; and suspend the censer from five chains. +In China, some Buddhists worship the image of a +virgin, called the Queen of Heaven, having an +infant in her arms, and holding a cross. In Thibet +the Grand Lamas wear a mitre, dalmatica, and +cope, and pronounce a benediction on the laity by +extending the right hand over their heads. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span> +Dalai-Lama resembles the Pope, and is regarded +as the head of the Church. The worship of relics +is very ancient among the Buddhists, and so are +pilgrimages to sacred places.</p> + +<p>Besides these resemblances in outward ceremonies, +more important ones appear in the inner life +and history of the two religions. Both belong to +those systems which derive their character from a +human founder, and not from a national tendency; +to the class which contains the religions of Moses, +Zoroaster, Confucius, and Mohammed, and not to +that in which the Brahmanical, Egyptian, Scandinavian, +Greek, and Roman religions are found. +Both Buddhism and Christianity are catholic, and +not ethnic; that is, not confined to a single race +or nation, but by their missionary spirit passing +beyond these boundaries, and making converts +among many races. Christianity began among the +Jews as a Semitic religion, but, being rejected by +the Jewish nation, established itself among the +Aryan races of Europe. In the same way Buddhism, +beginning among an Aryan people—the +Hindoos—was expelled from Hindostan, and established +itself among the Mongol races of Eastern +Asia. Besides its resemblances to the Roman +Catholic side of Christendom, Buddhism has still +closer analogies with the Protestant Church. Like +Protestantism, it is a reform, which rejects a hierarchal +system and does away with a priestly caste. +Like Protestantism, it has emphasized the purely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> +humane side of life, and is a religion of humanity +rather than of piety. Both the Christian and Buddhist +churches teach a divine incarnation, and both +worship a God-man.</p> + +<p>Are these remarkable analogies only casual resemblances, +or are they real affinities? By affinity +we here mean genetic relationship. Are Buddhism +and Christianity related as mother and child, one +being derived from the other; or are they related by +both being derived from some common ancestor? Is +either derived from the other, as Christianity from +Judaism, or Protestantism from the Papal Church? +That there can be no such affinity as this seems +evident from history. History shows no trace of +the contact which would be required for such influence. +If Christianity had taken its customs from +Buddhism, or Buddhism from Christianity, there +must have been ample historic evidence of the fact. +But, instead of this, history shows that each has +grown up by its own natural development, and has +unfolded its qualities separately and alone. The +law of evolution also teaches that such great systems +do not come from imitation, but as growths from a +primal germ.</p> + +<p>Nor does history give the least evidence of a common +ancestry from which both took their common +traits. We know that Buddhism was derived from +Brahmanism, and that Christianity was derived +from Judaism. Now, Judaism and Brahmanism +have few analogies; they could not, therefore, have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> +transmitted to their offspring what they did not +themselves possess. Brahmanism came from an +Aryan stock, in Central Asia; Judaism from a +Semitic stem, thousands of miles to the west. If +Buddhism and Christianity came from a common +source, that source must have antedated both the +Mosaic and Brahmanical systems. Even then it +would be a case of atavism in which the original +type disappeared in the children, to reappear in the +later descendants.</p> + +<p>Are, then, these striking resemblances, and others +which are still to be mentioned, only accidental +analogies? This does not necessarily follow; for +there is a third alternative. They may be what +are called in science homologies; that is, the same +law working out similar results under the same +conditions, though under different circumstances. +The whale lives under different circumstances from +other mammalia; but being a mammal, he has a +like osseous structure. What seems to be a fin, +being dissected, turns out to be an arm, with hand +and fingers. There are like homologies in history. +Take the instance of the English and French revolutions. +In each case the legitimate king was +tried, condemned, and executed. A republic followed. +The republic gave way before a strong-handed +usurper. Then the original race of kings +was restored; but, having learned nothing and forgotten +nothing, they were displaced a second time, +and a constitutional monarch placed on the throne,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> +who, though not the legitimate king, still belonged +to the same race. Here the same laws of human +nature have worked out similar results; for no one +would suggest that France had copied its revolutions +from England. And, in religion, human nature +reproduces similar customs and ceremonies +under like conditions. When, for instance, you +have a mechanical system of prayer, in which the +number of prayers is of chief importance, there +must be some way of counting them, and so the +rosary has been invented independently in different +religions. We have no room to point out how +this law has worked in other instances; but it is +enough to refer to the principle.</p> + +<p>Besides these resemblances between Buddhism +and Christianity, there are also some equally remarkable +differences, which should be noticed.</p> + +<p>The first of these is the striking fact that Buddhism +has been unable to recognize the existence of +the Infinite Being. It has been called atheism by +the majority of the best authorities. Even Arthur +Lillie, who defends this system from the charge of +agnosticism, <span class="locked">says:<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">6</a></span> "An agnostic school of Buddhism +without doubt exists. It professes plain atheism, +and holds that every mortal, when he escapes +from re-births, and the causation of Karma by the +awakenment of the Bodhi or gnosis, will be annihilated. +This Buddhism, by Eugène Burnouf, +Saint-Hilaire, Max Müller, Csoma de Körös, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> +I believe, almost every writer of note, is pronounced +the original Buddhism,—the Buddhism +of the South." Almost every writer of note, +therefore, who has studied Buddhism in the Pâli, +Singhalese, Chinese, and other languages, and has +had direct access to its original sources, has pronounced +it a system of atheism. But this opinion +is opposed to the fact that Buddhists have everywhere +worshiped unseen and superhuman powers, +erected magnificent temples, maintained an elaborate +ritual, and adored Buddha as the supreme +ruler of the worlds. How shall we explain this +paradox? All depends on the definition we give +to the word "atheism." If a system is atheistic +which sees only the temporal, and not the eternal; +which knows no God as the author, creator, and +ruler of Nature; which ascribes the origin of the +universe to natural causes, to which only the finite +is knowable, and the infinite unknowable—then +Buddhism is atheism. But, in that case, much +of the polytheism of the world must be regarded +as atheism; for polytheism has largely worshiped +finite gods. The whole race of Olympian deities +were finite beings. Above them ruled the everlasting +necessity of things. But who calls the +Greek worshipers atheists? The Buddha, to most +Buddhists, is a finite being, one who has passed +through numerous births, has reached Nirvana, and +will one day be superseded by another Buddha. +Yet, for the time, he is the Supreme Being, Ruler<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> +of all the Worlds. He is the object of worship, +and really divine, if in a subordinate sense.</p> + +<p>I would not, therefore, call this religion atheism. +No religion which worships superhuman powers +can justly be called atheistic on account of its +meagre metaphysics. How many Christians there +are who do not fully realize the infinite and eternal +nature of the Deity! To many He is no more than +the Buddha is to his worshipers,—a supreme being, +a mighty ruler, governing all things by his +will. How few see God everywhere in nature, as +Jesus saw Him, letting his sun shine on the evil and +good, and sending his rain on the just and unjust. +How few see Him in all of life, so that not a sparrow +dies, or a single hair of the head falls, without +the Father. Most Christians recognize the Deity +only as occasionally interfering by special providences, +particular judgments, and the like.</p> + +<p>But in Christianity this ignorance of the eternal +nature of God is the exception, while in Buddhism +it is the rule. In the reaction against Brahmanism, +the Brahmanic faith in the infinite was lost. +In the fully developed system of the ancient Hindoo +religion the infinite overpowered the finite, the +temporal world was regarded as an illusion, and +only the eternal was real. The reaction from this +extreme was so complete as to carry the Buddhists +to the exact opposite. If to the Brahman all the +finite visible world was only <i>maya</i>—illusion, to +the Buddhists all the infinite unseen world was unknowable, +and practically nothing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> +Perhaps the most original feature of Christianity +is the fact that it has combined in a living synthesis +that which in other systems was divided. +Jesus regarded love to God and love to man as +identical,—positing a harmonious whole of time +and eternity, piety and humanity, faith and works,—and +thus laid the foundation of a larger system +than either Brahmanism or Buddhism. He did +not invent piety, nor discover humanity. Long +before he came the Brahmanic literature had +sounded the deepest depths of spiritual life, and +the Buddhist missionaries had preached universal +benevolence to mankind. But the angelic hymn +which foretold the new religion as bringing at once +"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, +good will to men" indicated the essence of the +faith which was at the same time a heavenly love +and an earthly blessing. This difference of result +in the two systems came probably from the different +methods of their authors. With Jesus life was +the source of knowledge; the life was the light of +men. With the Buddha, reflection, meditation, +thought was the source of knowledge. In this, +however, he included intuition no less than reflection. +Sakya-muni understood perfectly that a mere +intellectual judgment possessed little motive power; +therefore he was not satisfied till he had obtained +an intuitive perception of truth. That alone gave +at once rest and power. But as the pure intellect, +even in its highest act, is unable to grasp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> +the infinite, the Buddha was an agnostic on this +side of his creed by the very success of his method. +Who, by searching, can find out God? The infinite +can only be known by the process of living +experience. This was the method of Jesus, and +has been that of his religion. For what is faith +but that receptive state of mind which waits on +the Lord to receive the illumination which it cannot +create by its own processes? However this +may be, it is probable that the fatal defect in +Buddhism which has neutralized its generous philanthropy +and its noble humanities has been the +absence of the inspiration which comes from the +belief in an eternal world. Man is too great to be +satisfied with time alone, or eternity alone; he +needs to live from and for both. Hence, Buddhism +is an arrested religion, while Christianity is +progressive. Christianity has shown the capacity +of outgrowing its own defects and correcting its +own mistakes. For example, it has largely outgrown +its habit of persecuting infidels and heretics. +No one is now put to death for heresy. It +has also passed out of the stage in which religion +is considered to consist in leaving the world and +entering a monastery. The anchorites of the early +centuries are no longer to be found in Christendom. +Even in Catholic countries the purpose of +monastic life is no longer to save the soul by ascetic +tortures, but to attain some practical end. +The Protestant Reformation, which broke the yoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> +of priestly power and set free the mind of Europe, +was a movement originating in Christianity itself, +like other developments of a similar kind. No +such signs of progress exist in the system of Buddhism. +It has lost the missionary ardor of its early +years; it has ceased from creating a vast literature +such as grew up in its younger days; it no longer +produces any wonders of architecture. It even +lags behind the active life of the countries where +it has its greatest power.</p> + +<p>It is a curious analogy between the two systems +that, while neither the Christ nor the Buddha practiced +or taught asceticism, their followers soon +made the essence of religion to consist in some +form of monastic life. Both Jesus and Sakya-muni +went about doing good. Both sent their followers +into the world to preach a gospel. Jesus, +after thirty years of a retired life, came among +men "eating and drinking," and associating with +"publicans and sinners." Sakya-muni, after +spending some years as an anchorite, deliberately +renounced that mode of religion as unsatisfactory, +and associated with all men, as Jesus afterward +did. Within a few centuries after their death, +their followers relapsed into ascetic and monastic +practices; but with this difference, that while in +Christendom there has always been both a regular +and a secular clergy, in the Buddhist countries +the whole priesthood live in monasteries. They +have no parish priests, unless as an exception.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> +While in Christian countries the clergy has become +more and more a practical body, in sympathy +with the common life, in Buddhist lands they live +apart and exercise little influence on the civil condition +of the people.</p> + +<p>Nor must we pass by the important fact that the +word Christendom is synonymous with a progressive +civilization, while Buddhism is everywhere +connected with one which is arrested and stationary. +The boundaries of the Christian religion are +exactly coextensive with the advance of science, +art, literature; and with the continued accumulation +of knowledge, power, wealth, and the comforts +of human life. According to <span class="locked">Kuenen,<a name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">7</a></span> one of the +most recent students of these questions, this difference +is due to the principle of hope which exists in +Christianity, but is absent in Buddhism. The one +has always believed in a kingdom of God here and +a blessed immortality hereafter. Buddhism has +not this hope; and this, says Kuenen, "is a blank +which nothing can fill." So large a thinker as +Albert Réville has expressed his belief that even +the intolerance of Christianity indicated a passionate +love of truth which has created modern science. +He says that "if Europe had not passed through +those ages of intolerance, it is doubtful whether the +science of our day would ever have <span class="locked">arrived."<a name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">8</a></span> It +is only within the boundaries of nations professing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> +the Christian faith that we must go to-day to learn +the latest discoveries in science, the best works of +art, the most flourishing literature. Only within +the same circle of Christian states is there a government +by law, and not by will. Only within +these boundaries have the rights of the individual +been secured, while the power of the state has been +increased. Government by law, joined with personal +freedom, is only to be found where the faith +exists which teaches that God not only supports the +universal order of natural things, but is also the +friend of the individual soul; and in just that circle +of states in which the doctrine is taught that there +is no individual soul for God to love and no Divine +presence in the order of nature, human life has subsided +into apathy, progress has ceased, and it has +been found impossible to construct national unity. +Saint-Hilaire <span class="locked">affirms<a name="FNanchor_9" id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">9</a></span> that "in politics and legislation +the dogma of Buddhism has remained inferior +even to that of Brahmanism," and "has been able +to do nothing to constitute states or to govern them +by equitable rules." These Buddhist nations are +really six: Siam, Burma, Nepaul, Thibet, Tartary, +and Ceylon. The activity and social progress in +China and Japan are no exceptions to this rule; +for in neither country has Buddhism any appreciable +influence on the character of the people.</p> + +<p>To those who deny that the theology of a people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> +influences its character, it may be instructive to +see how exactly the good and evil influences of +Buddhism correspond to the positive and negative +traits of its doctrine. Its merits, says Saint-Hilaire, +are its practical character, its abnegation +of vulgar gratifications, its benevolence, mildness, +sentiment of human equality, austerity of manners, +dislike of falsehood, and respect for the family. +Its defects are want of social power, egotistical +aims, ignorance of the ideal good, of the sense +of human right and human freedom, skepticism, incurable +despair, contempt of life. All its human +qualities correspond to its doctrinal teaching from +the beginning. It has always taught benevolence, +patience, self-denial, charity, and toleration. Its +defects arise inevitably from its negative aim,—to +get rid of sorrow and evil by sinking into apathy, +instead of seeking for the triumph of good and the +coming of a reign of God here on the earth.</p> + +<p>As regards the Buddha himself, modern students +differ widely. Some, of course, deny his very +existence, and reduce him to a solar myth. M. +Emile Senart, as quoted by <span class="locked">Oldenberg,<a name="FNanchor_10" id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">10</a></span> following +the Lalita Vistara as his authority, makes of him +a solar hero, born of the morning cloud, contending +by the power of light with the demons of darkness, +rising in triumph to the zenith of heavenly +glory, then passing into the night of Nirvana and +disappearing from the scene.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span></p> +<p>The difficulty about this solar myth theory is +that it proves too much; it is too powerful a solvent; +it would dissolve all history. How easy it +would be, in a few centuries, to turn General +Washington and the American Revolution into +a solar myth! Great Britain, a region of clouds +and rain, represents the Kingdom of Darkness; +America, with more sunshine, is the Day. Great +Britain, as Darkness, wishes to devour the Young +Day, or dawn of light, which America is about to +diffuse over the earth. But Washington, the solar +hero, arrives. He is from Virginia, that is, born of +a virgin. He was born in February, in the sign +of Aquarius and the Fishes,—plainly referring to +the birth of the sun from the ocean. As the sun +surveys the earth, so Washington was said to be +a surveyor of many regions. The story of the +fruitless attempts of the Indians to shoot him at +Braddock's defeat is evidently legendary; and, +in fact, this battle itself must be a myth, for how +can we suppose two English and French armies +to have crossed the Atlantic, and then gone into +a wilderness west of the mountains, to fight a +battle? So easy is it to turn history into a solar +myth.</p> + +<p>The character of Sakya-muni must be learned +from his religion and from authentic tradition. +In many respects his character and influence +resembled that of Jesus. He opposed priestly +assumptions, taught the equality and brotherhood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> +of man, sent out disciples to teach his doctrine, +was a reformer who relied on the power of truth +and love. Many of his reported sayings resemble +those of Jesus. He was opposed by the Brahmans +as Jesus by the Pharisees. He compared the +Brahmans who followed their traditions to a chain +of blind men, who move on, not seeing where they +<span class="locked">go.<a name="FNanchor_11" id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">11</a></span> Like Jesus, he taught that mercy was better +than sacrifices. Like Jesus, he taught orally, and +left no writing. Jesus did not teach in Hebrew, +but in the Aramaic, which was the popular dialect, +and so the Buddha did not speak to the people in +Sanskrit, but in their own tongue, which was Pâli. +Like Jesus, he seems to have instructed his hearers +by parables or stories. He was one of the +greatest reformers the world has ever seen; and +his influence, after that of the Christ, has probably +exceeded that of any one who ever lived.</p> + +<p>But, beside such real resemblances between +these two masters, we are told of others still more +striking, which would certainly be hard to explain +unless one of the systems had borrowed from the +other. These are said to be the preëxistence of +Buddha in heaven; his birth of a virgin; salutation +by angels; presentation in the temple; baptism +by fire and water; dispute with the doctors; +temptation in the wilderness; transfiguration;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> +descent into hell; ascension into <span class="locked">heaven.<a name="FNanchor_12" id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">12</a></span> If +these legends could be traced back to the time +before Christ, then it might be argued that the +Gospels have borrowed from Buddhism. Such, +however, is not the fact. These stories are taken +from the Lalita Vistara, which, according to Rhys +<span class="locked">Davids,<a name="FNanchor_13" id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">13</a></span> was probably composed between six hundred +and a thousand years after the time of Buddha, +by some Buddhist poet in Nepaul. Rhys +Davids, one of our best authorities, says of this +poem: "As evidence of what early Buddhism actually +was, it is of about the same value as some +mediæval poem would be of the real facts of the +gospel history."<a href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">13</a> M. Ernest de Bunsen, in his +work on the "Angel Messiah," has given a very +exhaustive statement, says Mr. Davids, of all the +possible channels through which Christians can be +supposed to have borrowed from the Buddhists. +But Mr. Davids's conclusion is that he finds no +evidence of any such communications of ideas from +the East to the <span class="locked">West.<a name="FNanchor_14" id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">14</a></span> The difference between +the wild stories of the Lalita Vistara and the +sober narratives of the Gospels is quite apparent. +Another writer, Professor <span class="locked">Seydel,<a name="FNanchor_15" id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">15</a></span> thinks, after a +full and careful examination, that only five facts in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> +the Gospels may have been borrowed from Buddhism. +These are: (1) The fast of Jesus before +his work; (2) The question in regard to the blind +man—"Who did sin, this man, or his parents"? +(3) The preëxistence of Christ; (4) The presentation +in the Temple; (5) Nathanael sitting under +a fig-tree, compared with Buddha under a Bo-tree. +But Kuenen has examined these parallels, and considers +them merely accidental coincidences. And, +in truth, it is very hard to conceive of one religion +borrowing its facts or legends from another, if +that other stands in no historic relation to it. +That Buddhism should have taken much from +Brahmanism is natural; for Brahmanism was its +mother. That Christianity should have borrowed +many of its methods from Judaism is equally natural; +for Judaism was its cradle. Modern travelers +in Burma and Tartary have found that the Buddhists +hold a kind of camp-meeting in the open +air, where they pray and sing. Suppose that some +critic, noticing this, should assert that, when Wesley +and his followers established similar customs, +they must have borrowed them from the Buddhists. +The absurdity would be evident. New religions +grow, they are not imitations.</p> + +<p>It has been thought, however, that Christianity +was derived from the Essenes, because of certain +resemblances, and it is argued that the Essenes +must have obtained their monastic habits from the +Therapeutæ in Egypt, and that the Therapeutæ<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> +received them from the Buddhists, because they +could not have found them elsewhere. This theory, +however, has been dismissed from the scene +by the young German <span class="locked">scholar,<a name="FNanchor_16" id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">16</a></span> who has proved +that the essay on the Therapeutæ ascribed to Philo +was really written by a Christian anchorite in the +third or fourth century.</p> + +<p>The result, then, of our investigation, is this: +There is no probability that the analogies between +Christianity and Buddhism have been derived the +one from the other. They have come from the +common and universal needs and nature of man, +which repeat themselves again and again in like +positions and like circumstances. That Jesus and +Buddha should both have retired into the wilderness +before undertaking their great work is probable, +for it has been the habit of other reformers +to let a period of meditation precede their coming +before the world. That both should have been +tempted to renounce their enterprise is also in +accordance with human nature. That, in after +times, the simple narratives should be overlaid +with additions, and a whole mass of supernatural +wonders added,—as we find in the Apocryphal +Gospels and the Lalita Vistara,—is also in accordance +with the working of the human mind.</p> + +<p>Laying aside all such unsatisfactory resemblances, +we must regard the Buddha as having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> +been one of the noblest of men, and one whom +Jesus would have readily welcomed as a fellow +worker and a friend. He opposed a dominant +priesthood, maintained the equal religious rights of +all mankind, overthrew caste, encouraged woman +to take her place as man's equal, forbade all bloody +sacrifices, and preached a religion of peace and +good will, seeking to triumph only in the fair conflict +of reason with reason. If he was defective +in the loftiest instincts of the soul; if he knew nothing +of the infinite and eternal; if he saw nothing +permanent in the soul of man; if his highest purpose +was negative,—to escape from pain, sorrow, +anxiety, toil,—let us still be grateful for the influence +which has done so much to tame the savage +Mongols, and to introduce hospitality and humanity +into the homes of Lassa and Siam. If Edwin +Arnold, a poet, idealizes him too highly, it is the +better fault, and should be easily forgiven. Hero-worshipers +are becoming scarce in our time; let us +make the most of those we have.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="WHY I AM NOT A FREE-RELIGIONIST"><a id="WHY">WHY I AM NOT A FREE-RELIGIONIST</a><a name="FNanchor_17" id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">17</a></h2> + +<p>What is meant by "Free Religion"? I understand +by it, individualism in religion. It is the +religious belief which has made itself independent +of historic and traditional influences, so far +as it is in the power of any one to attain such +independence. In Christian lands it means a religion +which has cut loose from the Bible and the +Christian Church, and which is as ready to question +the teaching of Jesus as that of Socrates or +Buddha. It is, what Emerson called himself, an +endless seeker, with no past behind it. It is entire +trust in the private reason as the sole authority in +matters of religion.</p> + +<p>Free Religion may be regarded as Protestantism +carried to its ultimate results. A Protestant +<em>Christian</em> accepts the leadership of Jesus, and +keeps himself in the Christian communion; but he +uses his own private judgment to discover what +Jesus taught, and what Christianity really is. The +Free Religionist goes a step farther, and decides +by his own private judgment what is true and +what false, no matter whether taught by Jesus or +not.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> +Free Religion, as thus understood, seems to me +opposed to the law of evolution, and incompatible +with it. Evolution educes the present from the +past by a continuous process. Free Religion cuts +itself loose from the past, and makes every man +the founder of his own religion. According to +the law of evolution, confirmed by history, every +advance in religion is the development from something +going before. Jewish monotheism grew out +of polytheism; Christianity and Mohammedanism +out of Judaism; Buddhism out of Brahmanism; +Protestant Christianity out of the Roman Catholic +Church. Jesus himself said, "Think not that I +am come to destroy the Law or the Prophets: +I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil." The +higher religions are not made; they grow. Of +each it may be said, as of the poet: "Nascitur, +non fit." Therefore, if there is to arrive something +higher than our existing Christianity, it +must not be a system which forsakes the Christian +belief, but something developed from it.</p> + +<p>According to the principle of evolution, every +growing and productive religion obeys the laws of +heredity and of variation. It has an inherited +common life, and a tendency to modification by +individual activity. Omit or depress either factor, +and the religion loses its power of growth. Without +a common life, the principle of development is +arrested. He who leaves the great current which +comes from the past loses headway. This current,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> +in the Christian communion, is the inherited +spirit of Jesus. It is his life, continued in his +Church; his central convictions of love to God +and to man; of fatherhood and brotherhood; of +the power of truth to conquer error, of good +to overcome evil; of a Kingdom of Heaven to +come to us here. It is the faith of Jesus in things +unseen; his hope of the triumph of right over +wrong; his love going down to the lowliest child +of God. These vital convictions in the soul of +Jesus are communicated by contact from generation +to generation. They are propagated, as he +suggested, like leaven hidden in the dough. By +a different figure, Plato, in his dialogue of Ion, +shows that inspiration is transmitted like the magnetic +influence, which causes iron rings to adhere +and hang together in a chain. Thoughts and +opinions are communicated by argument, reasoning, +speech, and writing; but faith and inspiration +by the influence of life on life. The life of Jesus +is thus continued in his Church, and those who +stand outside of it lose much of this transmitted +and sympathetic influence. Common life in a +religious body furnishes the motive force which +carries it forward, while individual freedom gives +the power of improvement. The two principles +of heredity and variation must be united in order +to combine union and freedom, and to secure progress. +Where freedom of thought ceases, religion +becomes rigid. It is incapable of development.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> +Such, for instance, is the condition of Buddhism, +which, at first full of intellectual activity, has now +hardened into a monkish ritual.</p> + +<p>Free Religion sacrifices the motive power derived +from association and religious sympathy for +the sake of a larger intellectual freedom. The +result is individualism. It founds no churches, +but spends much force in criticising the Christian +community, its belief, and its methods. These +are, no doubt, open to criticism, which would do +good if administered sympathetically and from +within, but produce little result when delivered +in the spirit of antagonism. Imperfect as the +Christian Church is, it ought to be remembered +that in it are to be found the chief strength and +help of the charities, philanthropies, and moral +reforms of our time. Every one who has at heart +a movement for the benefit of humanity appeals +instinctively for aid to the Christian churches. It +is in these that such movements usually originate, +and are carried on. Even when, as in the antislavery +movement, a part of the churches refuse +to sympathize with a new moral or social movement, +the reproaches made against them show that +in the mind of the community an interest in all +humane endeavor is considered to be a part of +their work. The common life and convictions +of these bodies enable them to accomplish what +individualism does not venture to undertake. Individualism +is incapable of organized and sustained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> +work of this sort, though it can, and often does, +coöperate earnestly with it.</p> + +<p>The teaching of Jesus is founded on the synthesis +of Truth and Love. Jesus declares himself +to have been born "to bear witness to the truth," +and he also makes love, divine and human, the +substance of his gospel. The love element produces +union, the truth element, freedom. Union +without freedom stiffens into a rigid conservatism. +Freedom without union breaks up into an intellectual +atomism. The Christian churches have +gone into both extremes, but never permanently; +for Christianity, as long as it adheres to its founder +and his ideas, has the power of self-recovery. Its +diseases are self-limited.</p> + +<p>It has had many such periods, but has recovered +from them. It passed through an age in which +it ran to ascetic self-denial, and made saints of +self-torturing anchorites. It afterward became a +speculative system, and tended to metaphysical +creeds and doctrinal distinctions. It became a +persecuting church, burning heretics and Jews, +and torturing infidels as an act of faith. It was +tormented by dark superstitions, believing in witchcraft +and magic. But it has left all these evils +behind. No one is now put to death for heresy or +witchcraft. The monastic orders in the Church +are preachers and teachers, or given to charity. +No one could be burned to-day as a heretic. No +one to-day believes in witchcraft. The old creeds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span> +which once held the Church in irons are now slowly +disintegrating. But reform, as I have said, must +come from within, by the gradual elimination of +those inherited beliefs which interfere with the +unity of the Church and the leadership of Christ +himself. The Platonic and Egyptian Trinity remaining +as dogma, repeated but not understood,—the +Manichæan division of the human race into +children of God and children of the Devil,—the +scholastic doctrine of the Atonement, by which +the blood of Jesus expiates human guilt,—are +being gradually explained in accordance with reason +and the teaching of Jesus.</p> + +<p>Some beliefs, once thought to be of vital importance, +are now seen by many to be unessential, or +are looked at in a different light. Instead of making +Jesus an exceptional person, we are coming to +regard him as a representative man, the realized +ideal of what man was meant to be, and will one +day become. Instead of considering his sinlessness +as setting him apart from his race, we look +on it as showing that sin is not the natural, but +unnatural, condition of mankind. His miracles +are regarded not as violations of the laws of +nature, but anticipations of laws which one day +will be universally known, and which are boundless +as the universe. Nor will they in future be +regarded as evidence of the mission of Jesus, since +he himself was grieved when they were so looked +upon, and he made his truth and his character the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> +true evidence that he came from God. The old +distinction between "natural" and "supernatural" +will disappear when it is seen that Jesus had a +supernatural work and character, the same in kind +as ours, though higher in degree. The supreme +gifts which make him the providential leader of +the race do not set him apart from his brethren +if we see that it is a law of humanity that gifts +differ, and that men endowed with superior powers +become leaders in science, art, literature, politics; +as Jesus has become the chief great spiritual leader +of mankind.</p> + +<p>Men are now searching the Scriptures, not under +the bondage of an infallible letter, but seeking +for the central ideas of Jesus and the spirit of +his gospel. They begin to accept the maxim of +Goethe: "No matter how much the gospels contradict +each other, provided the Gospel does not +contradict itself." The profound convictions of +Christ, which pervade all his teaching, give the +clue by which to explain the divergences in the +narrative. We interpret the letter by the light +of the spirit. We see how Jesus emphasized the +law of human happiness,—that it comes from +within, not from without; that the pure in heart +see God, and that it is more blessed to give than +to receive. We comprehend the stress he lays on +the laws of progress,—that he who humbleth himself +shall be exalted. We recognize his profound +conviction that all God's children are dear to him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> +that his sun shines on the evil and the good, and +that he will seek the one lost sheep till he find it. +We see his trust in the coming of the Kingdom +of God in this world, the triumph of good over +evil, and the approaching time when the knowledge +of God shall fill the earth as the waters +cover the sea. And we find his profound faith +in the immortal life which abides in us, so that +whoever shares that faith with him can never die.</p> + +<p>The more firmly these central ideas of Jesus are +understood and held, the less importance belongs +to any criticism of the letter. This or that saying, +attributed to Jesus in the record, maybe subjected +to attack; but it is the main current of his teaching +which has made him the leader of civilized +man for eighteen centuries. That majestic stream +will sweep on undisturbed, though there may be +eddies here or stagnant pools there, which induce +hasty observers to suppose that it has ceased to +flow.</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem" xml:lang="la" lang="la"> +<span class="i0q">"Rusticus expectat dum defluit amnis, at ille<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Volvitur et volvetur, in omne volubilis ævium."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I sometimes read attacks on special sayings of +the record, which argue, to the critic's mind, that +Jesus was in error here, or mistaken there. But +I would recommend to such writers to ponder the +suggestive rule of Coleridge: "Until I can understand +the ignorance of Plato, I shall consider +myself ignorant of his understanding;" or the +remark of Emerson to the youth who brought him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> +a paper in which he thought he had refuted Plato: +"If you attack the king, be sure that you kill +him."</p> + +<p>When the Christian world really takes Jesus +<em>himself</em> as its leader, instead of building its faith +on opinions <em>about</em> him, we may anticipate the +arrival of that union which he foresaw and foretold—"As +thou, father, art in me, and I in thee, +that they also may be one in us, that the world may +believe that thou hast sent me." Then Christians, +ceasing from party strife and sectarian dissension, +will unite in one mighty effort to cure the evils of +humanity and redress its wrongs. Before a united +Christendom, what miseries could remain unrelieved? +War, that criminal absurdity, that monstrous +anachronism, must at last be abolished. +Pauperism, vice, and crime, though continuing in +sporadic forms, would cease to exist as a part of +the permanent institutions of civilization. A truly +Catholic Church, united under the Master, would +lead all humanity up to a higher plane. The immense +forces developed by modern science, and the +magnificent discoveries in the realm of nature, helpless +now to cure the wrongs of suffering man, would +become instruments of potent use under the guidance +of moral forces.</p> + +<p>According to the law of evolution, this is what +we have a right to expect. If we follow the lines +of historic development, not being led into extreme +individualism; if we maintain the continuity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> +of human progress, this vast result must finally +arrive. For such reasons I prefer to remain in +the communion of the Christian body, doing what +I may to assist its upward movement. For such +reasons I am not a Free Religionist.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="HAVE ANIMALS SOULS"><a id="HAVE">HAVE ANIMALS SOULS</a><a name="FNanchor_18" id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">18</a></h2> + +<p>To answer this question, we must first inquire +what we mean by a soul. If we mean a human +soul, it is certain that animals do not possess it,—at +least not in a fully developed condition. If we +mean, "Do they possess an immortal soul?" that +is, perhaps, a question difficult to answer either in +the affirmative or the negative. But if we mean +by the soul an immaterial principle of life, which +coördinates the bodily organization to a unity; +which is the ground of growth, activity, perception, +volition; which is intelligent, affectionate, +and to a certain extent free; then we must admit +that animals have souls.</p> + +<p>The same arguments which induce us to believe +that there is a soul in man apply to animals. The +world has generally believed that in man, beside +the body, there is also soul. Why have people +believed it? The reason probably is, that, beside +all that can be accounted for as the result of the +juxtaposition of material particles, there remains +a very important element unaccounted for. Mechanical +and physical agency may explain much, +but the most essential characteristic of vital phenomena<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> +they do not explain. They do not account +for the unity in variety, permanence in change, +growth from within by continuous processes, coming +from the vital functions in an organized body. +Every such body has a unity peculiar to itself, +which cannot be considered the result of the collocation +of material molecules. It is a unity which +controls these molecules, arranges and rearranges +them, maintains a steady activity, carries the body +through the phenomena of growth, and causes the +various organs to coöperate for the purposes of +the whole. The vital power is not merely the +result of material phenomena, but it reacts on these +as a cause. Add to this that strange phenomenon +of human consciousness, the sense of personality,—which +is the clear perception of selfhood as a +distinct unchanging unit, residing in a body all of +whose parts are in perpetual flux,—and we see +why the opinion of a soul has arisen. It has been +assumed by the common sense of mankind that in +every living body the cause of the mode of existence +of each part is contained in the whole. As +soon as death intervenes each part is left free +to pass through changes peculiar to itself alone. +Life is a power which acts from the whole upon +the parts, causing them to resist chemical laws, +which begin to act as soon as life departs. The +unity of a living body does not result from an ingenious +juxtaposition of parts, like that of a watch, +for example. For the unity of a living body implies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> +that which is called "the vital vortex," or +perpetual exchange of particles.</p> + +<p>A watch or clock is the nearest approach which +has been made by man to the creation of a living +being. A watch, for instance, contains the principle +of its action in itself, and is not moved from +without; in that it resembles a living creature. +We can easily conceive of a watch which might be +made to go seventy years, without being wound up. +It might need to be oiled occasionally, but not as +often as an animal needs to be fed. A watch is +also like a living creature in having a unity as a +whole not belonging to the separate parts, and to +which all parts conspire,—namely, that of marking +the progress of time. Why, then, say that a man +has a soul, and that a watch has not? The difference +is this. The higher principle of unity in +the watch, that is, its power of marking time, is +wholly an effect, and never a cause. It is purely +and only the result of the arrangement of wheels +and springs; in other words, of material conditions. +But in man, the principle of unity is also a cause. +Life reacts upon body. The laws of matter are +modified by the power of life, chemical action is +suspended, living muscles are able to endure without +laceration the application of forces which +would destroy the dead fibre. So the thought, the +love, the will of a living creature react on the physical +frame. A sight, a sound, a few spoken words, +a message seen in a letter, cause an immense revulsion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> +in the physical condition. Something is suddenly +told us, and we faint away, or even die, from +the effect of the message. Here mind acts upon +matter, showing that in man mind is not merely a +result, but also a cause. Hence men have generally +believed in the existence of a soul in man. +They have not been taught it by metaphysicians, it +is one of the spontaneous inductions of common +sense from universal experience.</p> + +<p>But this argument applies equally to prove a +soul in animals. The same reaction of soul on +body is constantly apparent. Every time that you +whistle to your dog, and he comes bounding toward +you, his mind has acted on his body. His will has +obeyed his thought, his muscles have obeyed his +will. The cause of his motion was mental, not +physical. This is too evident to require any further +illustration. Therefore, regarding the soul +as a principle of life, connected with the body but +not its result, or, in other words, as an immaterial +principle of activity, there is the same reason for +believing in the soul of animals that there is for +believing in the soul of man.</p> + +<p>But when we ask as to the nature of the animal +soul, and how far it is analogous to that of man, +we meet with certain difficulties. Let us see then +how many of the human qualities of the soul are to +be found in animals, and so discover if there is any +remainder not possessed by them, peculiar to ourselves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> +That the vital soul, or principle of life, belongs +equally to plants, animals, and men, is evident. +This is so apparent as to be granted even by Descartes, +who regards animals as mere machines, or +automata, destitute of a thinking soul, but not of +life or feeling. They are automata, but living and +feeling automata. Descartes denies them a soul, +because he defines the soul as the thinking and +knowing power. But Locke (with whom Leibnitz +fully agreed on this point) ascribes to animals +thought as well as feeling, and makes their difference +from man to consist in their not possessing +abstract ideas. We shall presently see the truth +of this most sagacious remark.</p> + +<p>Plants, animals, and men are alike in possessing +the vital principle, which produces growth, which +causes them to pass through regular phases of development, +which enables them to digest and assimilate +food taken from without, and which carries on +a steady circulation within. To this are added, in +the animal, the function of voluntary locomotion, +perception through the senses of an outward world, +the power of feeling pleasure and pain, some +wonderful instincts, and some degree of reflective +thought. Animals also possess memory, imagination, +playfulness, industry, the sense of shame, and +many other very human qualities.</p> + +<p>Take, for example, Buffon's fine description of +the dog ("Histoire du Chien"):—</p> + +<p>"By nature fiery, irritable, ferocious, and sanguinary,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> +the dog in his savage state is a terror to +other animals. But domesticated he becomes +gentle, attached, and desirous to please. He hastens +to lay at the feet of his master his courage, +his strength, and all his abilities. He listens for +his master's orders, inquires his will, consults his +opinion, begs his permission, understands the indications +of his wishes. Without possessing the +power of human thought, he has all the warmth of +human sentiment. He has more than human fidelity, +he is constant in his attachments. He is made +up of zeal, ardor, and obedience. He remembers +kindness longer than wrong. He endures bad +treatment and forgets it—disarming it by patience +and submission."</p> + +<p>No one who has ever had a dog for a friend will +think this description exaggerated. If any should +so consider it, we will cite for their benefit what +Mr. Jesse, one of the latest students of the canine +race, asserts concerning it, in his "Researches into +the History of the British Dog" (London, 1866). +He says that remarkable instances of the following +virtues, feelings, and powers of mind are well <span class="locked">authenticated:—</span></p> + +<p>"The dog risks his life to give help; goes for +assistance; saves life from drowning, fire, other +animals, and men; assists distress; guards property; +knows boundaries; resents injuries; repays +benefits; communicates ideas; combines with other +dogs for several purposes; understands language;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> +knows when he is about to die; knows death in a +human being; devotes his whole life to the object +of his love; dies of grief and of joy; dies in his +master's defense; commits suicide; remains by the +dead; solicits, and gives alarm; knows the characters +of men; recognizes a portrait, and men after +long absence; is fond of praise and sensible to ridicule; +feels shame, and is sensible of a fault; is +playful; is incorruptible; finds his way back from +distant countries; is magnanimous to smaller animals; +is jealous; has dreams; and takes a last +farewell when dying."</p> + +<p>Much of this, it may be said, is instinctive. We +must therefore distinguish between Instinct and +Intelligence; or, rather, between instinctive intelligence +and reflective intelligence. Many writers +on the subject of animals have not carefully distinguished +these very different activities of the soul. +Even M. Leroy, one of the first in modern times +who brought careful observation to the study of +the nature of animals, has not always kept in view +this distinction—as has been noticed by a subsequent +French writer of very considerable ability, +M. <span class="locked">Flourens.<a name="FNanchor_19" id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">19</a></span> The following marks, according +to M. Flourens, distinguish instinct from <span class="locked">intelligence:—</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="center-table"> +<table id="instinct" class="ivi" summary="Instinct vs. Intelligence"> + <tr> + <th class="tdl in2 r4">INSTINCT</th> + <th class="tdl in2">INTELLIGENCE</th></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl r4">Is spontaneous,</td> + <td class="tdl">Is deliberate,</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl r4">" necessary,</td> + <td class="tdl">" conditional,</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl r4">" invariable,</td> + <td class="tdl">" modifiable,</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl r4">" innate,</td> + <td class="tdl">comes from observation<br />and experience,</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl r4">" fatal,</td> + <td class="tdl">is free,</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl r4">" particular.</td> + <td class="tdl">" general.</td></tr> +</table> +</div></div> + +<p>Thus the building faculty of the beaver is an instinct, +for it acts spontaneously, and always in the +same way. It is not a general faculty of building +in all places and ways, but a special power of +building houses of sticks, mud, and other materials, +with the entrance under water and a dry place +within. When beavers build on a running stream, +they begin by making a dam across it, which preserves +them from losing the water in a drought; +but this also is a spontaneous and invariable act. +The old stories of their driving piles, using their +tails for trowels, and having well-planned houses +with many chambers, have been found to be fictitious. +That the beaver builds by instinct, though +intelligence comes in to modify the instinct, appears +from his wishing to build his house or his dam +when it is not needed. Mr. Broderip, the English +naturalist, had a pet beaver that manifested his +building instinct by dragging together warming-pans, +sweeping-brushes, boots, and sticks, which he +would lay crosswise. He then would fill in his +wall with clothes, bits of coal, turf, laying it very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> +even. Finally, he made a nest for himself behind +his wall with clothes, hay, and cotton. As this +creature had been brought from America very +young, all this procedure must have been instinctive. +But his intelligence showed itself in his +adapting his mode of building to his new circumstances. +His instinct led him to build his wall, +and to lay his sticks crosswise, and to fill in with +what he could find, according to the universal and +spontaneous procedure of all beavers. But his +making use of a chest of drawers for one side of +his wall, and taking brushes and boots instead of +cutting down trees, were no doubt acts of intelligence.</p> + +<p>A large part of the wonderful procedure of bees +is purely instinctive. Bees, from the beginning +of the world, and in all countries of the earth, +have lived in similar communities; have had their +queen, to lay eggs for them: if their queen is lost, +have developed a new one in the same way, by +altering the conditions of existence in one of their +larvæ; have constructed their hexagonal cells by +the same mathematical law, so as to secure the +most strength with the least outlay of material. +All this is instinct—for it is spontaneous and not +deliberate; it is universal and constant. But when +the bee deflects his comb in order to avoid a stick +thrust across the inside of the hive, and begins the +variation before he reaches the stick, this can only +be regarded as an act of intelligence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> +Animals, then, have both instincts and intelligence; +and so has man. A large part of human +life proceeds from tendencies as purely, if not as +vigorously, instinctive as those of animals. Man +has social instincts, which create human society. +Children play from an instinct. The maternal +instinct in a human mother is, till modified by +reflection, as spontaneous, universal, and necessary +as the same instinct in animals. But in man the +instincts are reduced to a minimum, and are soon +modified by observation, experience, and reflection. +In animals they are at their maximum, and are +modified in a much less degree.</p> + +<p>It is sometimes said that animals do not reason, +but man does. But animals are quite capable of +at least two modes of reasoning, that of comparison +and that of inference. They compare two +modes of action, or two substances, and judge the +one to be preferable to the other, and accordingly +select it. Sir Emerson Tennent tells us that elephants, +employed to build stone walls in Ceylon, +will lay each stone in its place, then stand off and +look to see if it is plumb, and, if not, will move +it with their trunk, till it lies perfectly straight. +This is a pure act of reflective judgment. He +narrates an adventure which befell himself in Ceylon +while riding on a narrow road through the +forest. He heard a rumbling sound approaching, +and directly there came to meet him an elephant, +bearing on his tusks a large log of wood, which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> +had been directed to carry to the place where it +was needed. Sir Emerson Tennent's horse, unused +to these monsters, was alarmed, and refused to go +forward. The sagacious elephant, perceiving this, +evidently decided that he must himself go out of +the way. But to do this, he was obliged first +to take the log from his tusks with his trunk, +and lay it on the ground, which he did, and then +backed out of the road between the trees till only +his head was visible. But the horse was still too +timid to go by, whereupon the judicious pachyderm +pushed himself farther back, till all of his body, +except the end of his trunk, had disappeared. +Then Sir Emerson succeeded in getting his horse +by, but stopped to witness the result. The elephant +came out, took the log up again, laid it +across his tusks, and went on his way. This story, +told by an unimpeachable witness, shows several +successive acts of reasoning. The log-bearer inferred +from the horse's terror that it would not +pass; he again inferred that in that case he must +himself get out of the way; that, to do this, he +must lay down his log; that he must go farther +back; and accompanying this was his sense of +duty, making him faithful to his task; and, most +of all, his consideration of what was due to this +human traveler, which kept him from driving the +horse and man before him as he went on.</p> + +<p>There is another well-authenticated anecdote of +an elephant; he was following an ammunition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> +wagon, and saw the man who was seated on it fall +off just before the wheel. The man would have +been crushed had not the animal instantly run +forward, and, without an order, lifted the wheel +with his trunk, and held it suspended in the air, +till the wagon had passed over the man without +hurting him. Here were combined presence of +mind, good will, knowledge of the danger to the +man, and a rapid calculation of how he could be +saved.</p> + +<p>Perhaps I may properly introduce here an account +of the manifestations of mind in the animals +I have had the most opportunity of observing. I +have a horse, who was named Rubezahl, after +the mountain spirit of the Harz made famous in +the stories of Musaeus. We have contracted his +name to Ruby for convenience. Now I have reason +to believe that Ruby can distinguish Sunday +from other days. On Sunday I have been in the +habit of driving to Boston to church; but on +other days, I drive to the neighboring village, +where are the post-office, shops of mechanics, and +other stores. To go to Boston, I usually turn to +the right when I leave my driveway; to go to the +village, I turn to the left. Now, on Sunday, if I +leave the reins loose, so that the horse may do as +he pleases, he invariably turns to the right, and +goes to Boston. On other days, he as invariably +turns to the left, and goes to the village. He does +this so constantly and regularly, that none of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> +family have any doubt of the fact that he knows +that it is Sunday; <em>how</em> he knows it we are unable +to discover. I have left my house at the same +hour on Sunday and on Monday, in the same +carriage, with the same number of persons in it; +and yet on Sunday he always turns to the right, +and on Monday to the left. He is fed at the same +time on Sunday as on other days, but the man +comes back to harness him a little later on Sunday +than at other times, and that is possibly his method +of knowing that it is the day for going to Boston. +But see how much of observation, memory, and +thought is implied in all this.</p> + +<p>Again, Ruby has shown a very distinct feeling +of the supernatural. Driving one day up a hill +near my house, we met a horse-car coming down +toward us, running without horses, simply by the +force of gravity. My horse became so frightened +that he ran into the gutter, and nearly overturned +me; and I got him past with the greatest difficulty. +Now he had met the cars coming down that hill, +drawn by horses, a hundred times, and had never +been alarmed. Moreover, only a day or two after, +in going up the same hill, we saw a car moving +uphill, before us, where the horses were entirely +invisible, being concealed by the car itself, which +was between us and the horses. But this did not +frighten Ruby at all. He evidently said to himself, +"The horses are there, though I do not +see them." But in the other case it seemed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> +him an effect without a cause—something plainly +supernatural. There was nothing in the aspect +of the car itself to alarm him; he had seen that +often enough. He was simply terrified by seeing +it move without any adequate cause—just as we +should be, if we saw our chairs begin to walk +about the room.</p> + +<p>Our Newfoundland dog's name is Donatello; +which, again, is shortened to Don in common parlance. +He has all the affectionate and excellent +qualities of his race. He is the most good-natured +creature I ever saw. Nothing provokes him. Little +dogs may yelp at him, the cat or kittens may snarl +and spit at him: he pays no attention to them. +A little dog climbs on his back, and lies down +there; one of the cats will lie between his legs. +But at night, when he is on guard, no one can approach +the house unchallenged.</p> + +<p>But his affection for the family is very great. +To be allowed to come into the house and lie down +near us is his chief happiness. He was very fond +of my son E——, who played with him a good +deal, and when the young man went away, during +the war, with a three months' regiment, Don was +much depressed by his absence. He walked down +regularly to the station, and stood there till a train +of cars came in; and when his friend did not arrive +in it, he went back, with a melancholy air, to the +house. But at last the young man returned. It +was in the evening, and Don was lying on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> +piazza. As soon as he saw his friend, his exultation +knew no bounds. He leaped upon him, and +ran round him, barking and showing the wildest +signs of delight. All at once he turned and ran +up into the garden, and came back bringing an +apple, which he laid down at the feet of his young +master. It was the only thing he could think of +to do for him—and this sign of his affection was +quite pathetic.</p> + +<p>The reason why Don thought of the apple was +probably this: we had taught him to go and get +an apple for the horse, when so directed. We +would say, "Go, Don, get an apple for poor +Ruby;" then he would run up into the garden, +and bring an apple, and hold it up to the horse; +and perhaps when the horse tried to take it he +would pull it away. After doing this a few times, +he would finally lie down on his back under the +horse's nose, and allow the latter to take the apple +from his mouth. He would also kiss the horse, on +being told to do so. When we said, "Don, kiss +poor Ruby," he leaped up and kissed the horse's +nose. But he afterwards hit upon a more convenient +method of doing it. He got his paw over the +rein and pulled down the horse's head, so that he +could continue the osculatory process more at his +ease, sitting comfortably on the ground.</p> + +<p>Animals know when they have done wrong; so +far, at least, as that means disobeying our will +or command. The only great fault which Don<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> +ever committed was stealing a piece of meat from +our neighbor's kitchen. I do not think he was +punished or even scolded for it; for we did not +find it out till later, when it would have done no +good to punish him. But a week or two after +that, the gentleman whose kitchen had been robbed +was standing on my lawn, talking with me, and he +referred, laughingly, to what Don had done. He +did not even look at the dog, much less change his +tones to those of rebuke. But the moment Don +heard his name mentioned, he turned and walked +away, and hid himself under the low branches of +a Norway spruce near by. He was evidently profoundly +ashamed of himself. Was this the result +of conscience, or of the love of approbation? In +either case, it was very human.</p> + +<p>That the love of approbation is common to many +animals we all know. Dogs and horses certainly +can be influenced by praise and blame, as easily as +men. Many years ago we had occasion to draw +a load of gravel, and we put Ruby into a tip-cart +to do the work. He was profoundly depressed, +and evidently felt it as a degradation. He hung +his head, and showed such marks of humiliation +that we have never done it since. But on the +other hand, when he goes out, under the saddle, +by the side of a young horse, this veteran animal +tries as hard to appear young as any old bachelor +of sixty years who is still ambitious of social +triumphs. He dances along, and goes sideways,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> +and has all the airs and graces of a young colt. +All this, too, is very human.</p> + +<p>At one time my dog was fond of going to the +railway station to see the people, and I always +ordered him to go home, fearing he should be hurt +by the cars. He easily understood that if he went +there, it was contrary to my wishes. Nevertheless, +he often went; and I do not know but this fondness +for forbidden fruit was rather human, too. +So, whenever he was near the station, if he saw +me coming, he would look the other way, and pretend +not to know me. If he met me anywhere +else, he always bounded to meet me with great +delight. But at the station it was quite different. +He would pay no attention to my whistle or my +call. He even pretended to be another dog, and +would look me right in the face without apparently +recognizing me. He gave me the cut direct, +in the most impertinent manner; the reason evidently +being that he knew he was doing what was +wrong, and did not like to be found out. Possibly +he may have relied a little on my near-sightedness, +in this manœuvre.</p> + +<p>That animals have acute observation, memory, +imagination, the sense of approbation, strong affections, +and the power of reasoning is therefore +very evident. Lord Bacon also speaks of a dog's +reverence for his master as partaking of a religious +element. "Mark," says he, "what a generosity +and courage a dog will put on, when he finds himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> +maintained by a man, who to him is instead +of a God—which courage he could not attain, +without that confidence in a better nature than his +own." Who that has seen the mute admiration +and trust in a dog's eye, as he looks up at his +master, but can see in it something of a religious +reverence, the germ and first principle of religion?</p> + +<p>What, then, is the difference between the human +soul and that of the animal in its highest development?</p> + +<p>That there is a very marked difference between +man and the highest animal is evident. The human +being, weaker in proportion than all other +animals, has subjected them all to himself. He +has subdued the earth by his inventions. Physically +too feeble to dig a hole in the ground like +a rabbit, or to fell a tree like a beaver; unable to +live in the water like a fish, or to move through +the air like a bird; he yet, by his inventive power +and his machinery, can compel the forces of nature +to work for him. They are the true genii, slaves +of his lamp. Air, fire, water, electricity, and magnetism +build his cities and his stately ships, run +his errands, carry him from land to land, and accept +him as their master.</p> + +<p>Whence does man obtain this power? Some +say it is <em>the human hand</em> which has made man +supreme. It is, no doubt, a wonderful machine; +a box of tools in itself. The size and strength of +the thumb, and the power of opposing it to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> +extremities of the fingers, distinguishes, according +to most anatomists, the human hand from that of +the quadrumanous animals. In those monkeys +which are nearest to man, the thumb is so short +and weak, and the fingers so long and slender, that +their tips can scarcely be brought in opposition. +Excellent for climbing, they are not good for taking +up small objects or supporting large ones. +But the hand of man could accomplish little without +the mind behind it. It was therefore a good +remark of Galen, that "man is not the wisest of +animals because he has a hand; but God has given +him a hand because he is the wisest of animals."</p> + +<p>The size of the human brain, relatively greater +than that of almost any other animal; man's structure, +adapting him to stand erect; his ability to +exist in all climates; his power of subsisting on +varied food: all these facts of his physical nature +are associated with his superior mental power, but +do not produce it. The question recurs, What +enables him to stand at the head of the animal +creation?</p> + +<p>Perhaps the chief apparent distinctions between +man and other animals are <span class="locked">these:—</span></p> + +<p>1. The lowest races of men use tools; other +animals do not.</p> + +<p>2. The lowest human beings possess a verbal +language; other animals have none.</p> + +<p>3. Man has the capacity of self-culture, as an +individual; other animals have not.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> +4. Human beings, associated in society, are +capable of progress in civilization, by means of +science, art, literature, and religion; other animals +are not.</p> + +<p>5. Men have a capacity for religion; no animal, +except man, has this.</p> + +<p>The lowest races of men use tools, but no other +animal does this. This is so universally admitted +by science that the presence of the rudest tools of +stone is considered a sufficient trace of the presence +of man. If stone hatchets or hammers or arrowheads +are found in any stratum, though no human +bones are detected, anthropologists regard this as a +sufficient proof of the existence of human beings in +the period indicated by such a geologic formation. +The only tools used by animals in procuring food, +in war, or in building their homes, are their natural +organs: their beaks, teeth, claws, etc. It may be +added that man alone wears clothes; other animals +being sufficiently clothed by nature. No animals +make a fire, though they often suffer from cold; +but there is no race of men unacquainted with the +use of <span class="locked">fire.<a name="FNanchor_20" id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">20</a></span></p> + +<p>No animals possess a verbal language. Animals +can remember some of the words used by men, and +associate with them their meaning. But this is +not the use of language. It is merely the memory +of two associated facts,—as when the animal recollects +where he found food, and goes to the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> +place to look for it again. Animals have different +cries, indicating different wants. They use one +cry to call their mate, another to terrify their prey. +But this is not the use of verbal language. Human +language implies not merely an acquaintance +with the meaning of particular words, but the +power of putting them together in a sentence. +Animals have no such language as this; for, if +they had, it would have been learned by men. +Man has the power of learning any verbal language. +Adelung and Vater reckon over three +thousand languages spoken by men, and any man +can learn any of them. The negroes speak their +own languages in their own countries; they speak +Arabic in North Africa; they learn to speak English, +French, and Spanish in America, and Oriental +languages when they go to the East. If any animals +had a verbal language, with its vocabulary +and grammar, men would long ago have learned +it, and would have been able to converse with +them.</p> + +<p>Again, no animal except man is capable of self-culture, +as an individual. Animals are trained by +external influences; they do not teach themselves. +An old wolf is much more cunning than a young +one, but he has been made so by the force of circumstances. +You can teach your dog tricks, but +no dog has ever taught himself any. Yet the +lowest savages teach themselves to make tools, +to ornament their paddles and clubs, and acquire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> +certain arts by diligent effort. Birds will sometimes +practice the tunes which they hear played, +till they have learned them. They will also sometimes +imitate each other's songs. That is, they +possess the power of vocal imitation. But to imitate +the sounds we hear is not self-culture. It is +not developing a new power, but it is exercising +in a new way a natural gift. Yet we must admit +that in this habit of birds there is the rudiment, at +least, of self-education.</p> + +<p>All races of men are capable of progress in civilization. +Many, indeed, remain in a savage state +for thousands of years, and we cannot positively +prove that any particular race which has always +been uncivilized is capable of civilization. But we +are led to believe it from having known of so many +tribes of men who have emerged from apathy, ignorance, +and barbarism into the light of science and +art. So it was with all the Teutonic races,—the +Goths, Germans, Kelts, Lombards, Scandinavians. +So it was with the Arabs, who roamed for thousands +of years over the deserts, a race of ignorant +robbers, and then, filled with the great inspiration +of Islam, flamed up into a brilliant coruscation +of science, literature, art, military success, and +profound learning. What great civilizations have +grown up in China, India, Persia, Assyria, Babylon, +Phœnicia, Egypt, Greece, Rome, Carthage, +Etruria! But no such progress has ever appeared +among the animals. As their parents were, five<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> +thousand years ago, so, essentially, are they +now.</p> + +<p>Nor are animals religious, in the sense of worshiping +unseen powers higher than themselves. +My horse showed a sense of the supernatural, but +this is not worship.</p> + +<p>These are some of the most marked points of +difference between man and all other animals. +Now these can all be accounted for by the hypothesis +in which Locke and Leibnitz both agreed; +namely, that while animals are capable of reasoning +about facts, they are incapable of abstract +ideas. Or, we may say with Coleridge, that while +animals, in common with man, possess the faculty +of understanding, they do not possess that of reason. +Coleridge seems to have intended by this exactly +what Locke and Leibnitz meant by their statement. +When my dog Don heard the word "apple," he +thought of the particular concrete apple under the +tree; and not of apples in general, and their relation +to pears, peaches, etc. Don understood me +when I told him to go and get an apple, and +obeyed; but he would not have understood me if +I had remarked to him that apples were better than +pears, more wholesome than peaches, not so handsome +as grapes. I should then have gone into the +region of abstract and general ideas.</p> + +<p>Now it is precisely the possession of this power +of abstract thought which will explain the superiority +of man to all other animals. It explains the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> +use of tools; for a tool is an instrument prepared, +not for one special purpose, but to be used generally, +in certain ways. A baboon, like a man, might +pick up a particular stone with which to crack a +particular nut; but the ape does not make and +keep a stone hammer, to be used on many similar +occasions. A box of tools contains a collection of +saws, planes, draw-knives, etc., not made to use on +one occasion merely, but made for sawing, cutting, +and planing purposes generally.</p> + +<p>Still more evident is it that the power of abstraction +is necessary for verbal language. We do +not here use the common term "articulate speech," +for we can conceive of animals articulating their +vocal sounds. But "a word" is an abstraction. +The notion is lifted out of the concrete particular +fact, and deposited in the abstract general term. +All words, except proper names, are abstract; and +to possess and use a verbal language is impossible, +without the possession of this mental faculty.</p> + +<p>In regard to self-culture, it is clear that for any +steady progress one must keep before his mind an +abstract idea of what he wishes to do. This enables +him to rise above impulse, passion, instinct, +habit, circumstance. By the steady contemplation +of the proposed aim, one can arrange circumstances, +restrain impulse, direct one's activity, and +become really free.</p> + +<p>In like manner, races become developed in civilization +by the impact of abstract ideas. Sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> +it is by coming in contact with other civilized +nations, which gives them an ideal superior to anything +before known. Sometimes the motive power +of their progress is the reception of truths of science, +art, literature, or religion.</p> + +<p>It is not necessary to show that without abstract, +universal, and necessary ideas no religion is possible; +for religion, being the worship of unseen +powers, conceived as existing, as active, as spiritual, +necessarily implies these ideas in the mind of +the worshiper.</p> + +<p>We find, then, in the soul of animals all active, +affectionate, and intelligent capacities, as in that +of man. The only difference is that man is capable +of abstract ideas, which give him a larger liberty of +action, which enable him to adopt an aim and pursue +it, and which change his affections from an instinctive +attachment into a principle of generous +love. Add, then, to the animal soul the capacity +for abstract ideas, and it would rise at once to the +level of man. Meantime, in a large part of their +nature, they have the same faculties with ourselves. +They share our emotions, and we theirs. They +are made "a little lower" than man, and if we +are souls, so surely are they.</p> + +<p>Are they immortal? To discuss this question +would require more space than we can here give to +it. For my own part, I fully believe in the continued +existence of all souls, at the same time assuming +their continued advance. The law of life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> +is progress; and one of the best features in the +somewhat unspiritual theory of Darwin is its profound +faith in perpetual improvement. This theory +is the most startling optimism that has ever been +taught, for it makes perpetual progress to be the +law of the whole universe.</p> + +<p>Many of the arguments for the immortality of +man cannot indeed be used for our dumb relations, +the animals. We cannot argue from their universal +faith in a future life; nor contend that they +need an immortality on moral grounds, to recompense +their good conduct and punish their wickedness. +We might indeed adduce a reason implied +in our Saviour's parable, and believe that the poor +creatures who have received their evil things in this +life will be comforted in another. Moreover, we +might find in many animals qualities fitting them +for a higher state. There are animals, as we have +seen, who show a fidelity, courage, generosity, +often superior to what we see in man. The dogs +who have loved their master more than food, and +starved to death on his grave, are surely well fitted +for a higher existence. Jesse tells a story of a cat +which was being stoned by cruel boys. Men went +by, and did not interfere; but a dog, that saw +it, did. He drove away the boys, and then took +the cat to his kennel, licked her all over with his +tongue, and his conduct interested people, who +brought her milk. The canine nurse took care of +her till she was well, and the cat and dog remained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> +fast friends ever after. Such an action in a man +would have been called heroic; and we think such +a dog would not be out of place in heaven.</p> + +<p>Yet it is not so much on particular cases of animal +superiority that we rely, but on the difficulty +of conceiving, in any sense, of the destruction of +life. The principle of life, whether we call it soul +or body, matter or spirit, escapes all observation of +the senses. All that we know of it by observation +is that, beside the particles of matter which compose +an organized body, there is something else, +not cognizable by the senses, which attracts and +dismisses them, modifies and coördinates them. +The unity of the body is not to be found in its +sensible phenomena, but in something which escapes +the senses. Into the vortex of that life material +molecules are being continually absorbed, and from +it they are perpetually discharged. If death means +the dissolution of the body, we die many times in +the course of our earthly career, for every body is +said by human anatomists to be changed in all its +particles once in seven years. What then remains, +if all the particles go? The principle of organization +remains, and this invisible, persistent principle +constitutes the identity of every organized body. If +I say that I have the <em>same</em> body when I am fifty +which I had at twenty, it is because I mean by +"body" that which continues unaltered amid the +fast-flying particles of matter. This life principle +makes and remakes the material frame; that body<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> +does not make it. When what we call death intervenes, +all that we can assert is that the life principle +has done wholly and at once what it has +always been doing gradually and in part. What +happens to the material particles, we see: they become +detached from the organizing principle, and +relapse into simply mechanical and chemical conditions. +What has happened to that organizing +principle we neither see nor know; and we have +absolutely no reason at all for saying that it has +ceased to exist.</p> + +<p>This is as true of plants and of animals as of +men; and there is no reason for supposing that +when these die their principle of life is ended. It +probably has reached a crisis, which consists in +the putting on of new forms and ascending into +a higher order of organized existence.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="APROPOS OF TYNDALL"><a id="APROPOS">APROPOS OF TYNDALL</a><a name="FNanchor_21" id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">21</a></h2> + +<p>We have all read in our "Vicar of Wakefield" +the famous speech made by the venerable and +learned Ephraim Jenkinson to good Dr. Primrose: +"The cosmogony, or creation of the world, +has puzzled philosophers in all ages. Sanchoniathon, +Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus +have all attempted it in vain," etc. But we hardly +expected to have this question of cosmogony reopened +by an eminent scientist in an address to +the British Association. What "Sanchoniathon, +Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus have all +attempted in vain" Professor Tyndall has not +only discussed before a body of men learned in +the physical sciences, but has done it in such a +manner as to rouse two continents to a new interest +in the question. One party has immediately +accused him of irreligion and infidelity, while another +has declared his statements innocent if not +virtuous. But the question which has been least +debated is, What has the professor really said? +or, Has he said anything?</p> + +<p>The celebrated sentence which has occasioned +this excitement is as <span class="locked">follows:—</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> +"Abandoning all disguise, the confession that I +feel bound to make before you is, that I prolong +the vision backward across the boundary of the +experimental evidence, and discern in that matter +which we in our ignorance, and notwithstanding +our professed reverence for its Creator, have +hitherto covered with opprobrium, the promise +and potency of every form and quality of life."</p> + +<p>Does he, then, declare himself a materialist? A +materialist is one who asserts everything which +exists to be matter, or an affection of matter. +What, then, is matter, and how is that to be defined? +The common definition of matter is, that +which is perceived by the senses, or the substance +underlying sensible phenomena. By means of the +senses we perceive such qualities or phenomena as +resistance, form, color, perfume, sound. Whenever +we observe these phenomena, whenever we +see, hear, taste, touch, or smell, we attribute the +affections thus excited to an external substance, +which we call <em>matter</em>. But we are aware of other +phenomena which are <em>not</em> perceived by the senses,—such +as thought, love, and will. We are as +certain of their existence as we are of sensible +phenomena. I am as sure of the reality of love +as I am of the whiteness of chalk. By a law +of our mind, whenever we perceive sensible phenomena, +we necessarily attribute them to a substance +outside of ourselves, which we call matter. +And by another law, or the same law, whenever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> +we perceive the phenomena of consciousness, we +necessarily attribute them to a substance which we +call soul, mind, or spirit. All that we know of +matter, and all that we know of soul, is their phenomena, +and as these are entirely different, we are +obliged to assume that matter and mind are different. +None of the qualities or attributes of +matter belong to mind, none of those of mind to +matter.</p> + +<p>Does Tyndall deny this distinction? Apparently +not. He not only makes Bishop Butler declare, +with unanswerable power, that materialism +can never show any connection between molecular +processes and the phenomena of consciousness, but +he distinctly iterates this in his own person at the +end of the address; asserting that there is no +fusion possible between the two classes of facts, +those of sensation and those of consciousness. +Professor Tyndall, then, in the famous sentence +above quoted, does not declare himself a materialist +in the only sense in which the term has hitherto +been used. He does not pretend that sensation, +thought, emotion, and will are reducible, in the +last analysis, to solidity, extension, divisibility, +etc.; he positively and absolutely denies this.</p> + +<p>When Tyndall, therefore, asserts that he discerns +in matter the promise and potency of every +form and quality of life, he uses the word "matter" +in a new sense. He does not mean by it the +underlying subject of sensible phenomena. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> +not the matter which we see, hear, touch, taste, +and smell. What is it then? It is something +beyond the limits of observation and experiment; +for he says that in order to discover it we must +"prolong the vision backward across the boundary +of the experimental evidence." In short, it is +something which we know nothing about. It is a +conjecture, an opinion, a theoretical matter. In +another place he calls this imaginary substance "a +cosmical life." This something, which shall be +the common basis of the phenomena of sense and +soul, not only is not known, but apparently is not +knowable. For he assures us that the very attempt +to understand this cosmical life which makes +the connection between physical and mental phenomena, +is "to soar in a vacuum," or "to try to +lift one's self by his own waistband."</p> + +<p>Of course, then, the contents of the famous +sentence are not <em>science</em>. It is not the great scientist, +the profound observer of nature, the distinguished +experimentalist, who speaks to us in that +sentence, but one who is theorizing, as we all have +a right to theorize. We also, if we choose, may +imagine some "cosmical life" behind both matter +and soul, as the common origin of both, and call +this life <em>spirit</em>. We shall then be thinking of +exactly the same substance that Tyndall is thinking +of, only we give it another name. He has +merely given another name to the great Being +behind all the phenomena of body and soul, out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> +which or whom all proceed. But to give another +name to a fact is not to tell us anything more +about it. All meaning having evaporated from the +word "matter," the sentence loses its whole significance, +and it appears that the alarming declaration +asserts nothing at all! In "abandoning all +disguise" Tyndall has run little risk, for our +analysis shows that he has not asserted anything +except, perhaps, this, that there is, in his judgment, +some unknown common basis in which matter +and mind both inhere. This assertion is not +alarming nor dangerous, for it is only what has +always been believed.</p> + +<p>As there is no materialism, in any known sense +of that term, in the doctrine of this address, so +likewise there is no atheism. In fact, in this same +sentence Tyndall speaks of the "creator" of what +he likes to call "matter" or "cosmical life." He +objects strongly to a creator who works mechanically, +and he seems to reprove Darwin for admitting +an original or primordial form, created +at first by the Deity. "The anthropomorphism, +which it seemed the object of Mr. Darwin to set +aside, is as firmly associated with the creation of a +few forms as with the creation of a multitude." +In another passage he says: "Is there not a temptation +to close to some extent with Lucretius, +when he affirms that nature is seen to do all +things spontaneously of herself without the meddling +of the gods?". But this last sentence shows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> +a singular vacillation in so clear a thinker as +Tyndall. How can one close "to some extent" +with such a statement as that of Lucretius? Either +the gods meddle, or they do not meddle. They +can hardly be considered as meddling "to some extent." +In still another passage he contrasts the +doctrine of evolution with the usual doctrine of +creation, rejecting the last in favor of the other, +because creation makes of God "an artificer, fashioned +after the human model, and acting by broken +efforts, as man is seen to act."</p> + +<p>All these expressions are somewhat vague, implying, +as it seems, a certain obscurity in Tyndall's +own thought. But it is not atheism. His "cosmical +life" probably is exactly what Cudworth +means by "plastic life." It is well known that +Cudworth, whose great work is a confutation of +all atheism, himself admits what he calls "a plastic +nature" in the universe as a subordinate instrument +of divine Providence. Just as Tyndall +objects to regarding the Deity as "an artificer," +Cudworth objects to the "mechanic theists," who +make the Deity act directly upon matter from +without, by separate efforts, instead of pouring a +creative and arranging life into nature. We can +easily see that Cudworth, like Tyndall, would +object to Darwin's one or two "primordial germs." +His "plastic nature" is working everywhere and +always, though under a divine guidance. It is "a +life," and therefore incorporeal. It is an unconscious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> +life, which acts, not knowingly, but fatally. +Man, according to Cudworth, partakes of this life +from the life of the universe, just as he partakes +of heat and cold from the heat and cold of the +universe. Thus Cudworth, believing in some such +"cosmical life" as Tyndall imagines, conceives it +as being itself the organ and instrument of the +Deity. Tyndall, therefore, though less clear in +his statements than Cudworth, is not logically +involved in atheism by those statements, unless we +implicate in the same condemnation the writer +whose vast work constitutes the fullest arsenal of +weapons against all the forms of atheism.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, however, Tyndall does not come +to any clearness on this point, which in one possessing +such a lucidity of intellect must be occasioned +by his leaving his own domain of science +and venturing into this metaphysical world, with +which he is not so familiar. His acquaintance +with the history of these studies seems not to be +extensive. For example, he attributes to Herbert +Spencer, as if he were the discoverer, what both +Hobbes and Descartes had already stated, that +there is no necessary resemblance between our sensations +and the external objects from which they +are derived. In regard to a belief in God, he tells +us that in his weaker moments he loses it, or that +it becomes clouded and dim, but that when he is +at his best he accepts it most fully. This belief, +therefore, is not with Tyndall a matter of conviction,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> +founded on reason, but a question of moods. +No wonder, then, that he relegates religion to the +region of sentiment, and declares that it has nothing +to do with knowledge. It must not touch +any question of cosmogony, or, if it does, must "submit +to the control of science" in that field. But +what has science to do with cosmogony? Science +rests on observation of facts; but our professor +tells us that he obtains his great cosmological idea +of "a cosmical life" by prolonging his vision backward +"across the boundary of the experimental evidence." +Such science as this, which is based on +no experience, and is incapable of verification, has +hardly the right to warn religious belief away from +any field.</p> + +<p>Tyndall seems a little astray in making creation +and evolution contradictory and incompatible. +Evolution, he tells us, is the manifestation of a +power wholly inscrutable to the intellect of man. +We know that God is,—that is, we know it in our +better moods,—but <em>what</em> God is, we cannot ever +know. At all events we must not consider him as +a Creator. "Two courses," says Tyndall, "and +only two, are possible. Either let us open our +doors freely to the conception of creative acts, or, +abandoning them, let us radically change our notions +of matter." His objections to the idea of a +Creator appear to be (1) that it is "derived, not +from the study of Nature, but from the observation +of men;" and (2) that it represents the Deity "as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> +an artificer, fashioned after a human model, and +acting by broken efforts as man is seen to act."</p> + +<p>Are these objections sound? When we study +man, are we not then also studying Nature? Is +not man himself the highest manifestation of Nature? +If so, and if we see the quality of any +power best in its highest and fullest operations, +we can study the nature of God best by looking +into our own. We should, in fact, know very little +of Nature if we did not look within as well as without. +Tyndall justly demands unlimited freedom of +investigation in the pursuit of science. But whence +came this very idea of freedom except from the +human mind? Nothing in the external world is +free; all is fatal. Such ideas as cause, force, substance, +law, unity, ideality, are not observed in the +outward world—they are given by the activity of +the mind itself. Subtract these from our thought, +and we should know very little of Nature or its +origin.</p> + +<p>No doubt the idea of a Creator, and of one perfect +in wisdom, power, and goodness, is derived by +man from his own mind. But it is not necessary +that such a Creator should be an "artificer," or +proceed by "broken efforts." He may act by +evolution, or processes of development. He may +create perpetually, by a life flowing from himself +into all things. He may create the universe anew +at every moment—not as a man lights a torch +with a match and then goes away, but as the sun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> +creates his image in the water by a perpetual process. +Thus God may be regarded as <em>creating</em> each +animal and each plant, while he maintains the mysterious +force of development by which it grows +from its egg or its seed. The essential idea of +creation is an infinite cause, acting according to +a perfect intelligence, for a perfect good. There +is nothing, necessarily, of an artificer or of broken +efforts in this. It is the very idea of divine creation +given in the New Testament. "From whom, +and through whom, and to whom, are all things." +"In him, we live, and move, and have our being." +The theist may well accept the view given by +Goethe, in his little poem, "Gott, Gemüth, und +Welt."</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"What kind of God would He be who only pushes the universe from without?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lets the All of Things run round and round on his finger?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It becomes him far better to move the universe from within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take Nature up into Himself, to let Himself down into Nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that whatever lives, and moves, and has its being in Him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never loses His power, never misses His spirit."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Such a conception of God, as a perpetual Creator, +is essential to the intellectual rest of the human +mind, and it is painful to see the irresolution of +Professor Tyndall in regard to it. "Clear and +confident as Jove" in the domain which is his own, +where his masterly powers of observation, discrimination, +and judgment leave him without a peer, +he seems shorn of his strength on entering this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> +field of metaphysics. He has warned theology not +to trespass on the grounds of science; or, if she +enters them, to submit to science as her superior. +Theology has been in the habit of treating science +in the same supercilious way; telling her that she +was an intruder if she ventured to discuss questions +of psychology or religion. This is equally +unwise on either part. Theologians should be glad +when men of science become seriously interested +in these great questions of the Whence and the +Whither. The address of Professor Tyndall is excellent +in its intention as well as in its candid and +manly treatment of the subject. Its indecision +and indistinctness are probably due to his having +accepted too implicitly the guidance of Spencer, +thus assuming that religious truth is unknowable, +that creation is impossible, and that only phenomena +can become objects of knowledge. "Insoluble +mystery" is therefore his final answer to the +questions he has himself raised.</p> + +<p>Goethe is wiser when he follows the Apostle +Paul, and regards the Deity as "the fullness which +filleth all in all." There is no unity to thought, +and no hope for scientific progress, more than for +moral culture, unless we see intelligence at the +centre, intelligence on the circumference of being. +To place an impenetrable darkness instead of an +unclouded light on the throne of the universe, +is to throw a shadow over the Creation.</p> + +<p>We say that there is no unity in thought without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> +this conviction. The only real unity we know +in the world is our own. All we see around us, including +our own body, is divisible, subject to alteration +and change. Only the ego, or soul, is conscious +of a perfect unity in a perpetual identity. +Unless we can attribute to the source of all being +a similar personal unity, there can be no coherence +to science, but it must forever remain fragmentary +and divided. This is what we mean by asserting +the personality of Deity. This idea reaches what +Lord Bacon calls "the vertical point of natural +philosophy" or "the summary law of Nature," +and constitutes, as he declares, "the union of all +things in a perpetual and uniform law."</p> + +<p>And unless we can recognize in the ultimate +fountain of being an intelligent purpose, the meaning +of the universe departs. Without intelligence +in the cause there is none in the effect. Then the +world has no meaning, life no aim. The universe +comes out of darkness, and is plunging into darkness +again.</p> + +<p>Take away from the domain of knowledge the +idea of a creating and presiding intelligence, and +there remains no motive for science itself. Professor +Tyndall is sagacious enough to see and candid +enough to admit that "without moral force to whip +it into action the achievements of the intellect +would be poor indeed," and that "science itself +not unfrequently derives motive power from ultra-scientific +sources." Faith in God, as an intelligent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> +creator and ruler of the world, has awakened +enthusiasm for scientific investigation among both +the Aryan and the Semitic races.</p> + +<p>The purest and highest form of monotheism +is that of Christianity; and in Christendom has +science made its largest progress. Not by martyrs +for science, but by martyrs for religion, has the +human mind been emancipated. Mr. Tyndall says +of scientific freedom, "We fought and won our +battle even in the middle ages." But the heroes +of intellectual liberty have been the heroes of +faith. Hundreds of thousands have died for a +religious creed; but how many have died for a +scientific theory? Luther went to Worms, and +maintained his opinions there in defiance of the +anathemas of the church and the ban of the empire, +but Galileo denied his most cherished convictions +on his knees. Galileo was as noble a character as +Luther; but science does not create the texture of +soul which makes so many martyrs in all the religious +sects of Christendom. Let the doctrine of +cosmical force supplant our faith in the Almighty, +and in a few hundred years science would probably +fade out of the world from pure inanition. The +world would probably not care enough for <em>anything</em> +to care for science. The light of eternity +must fall on this our human and earthly life, to +arouse the soul to a living and permanent interest +even in things seen and temporal.</p> + +<p>Professor Tyndall says: "Whether the views of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> +Lucretius, Darwin, and Spencer are right or wrong, +we claim the freedom to discuss them. The ground +which they cover is scientific ground."</p> + +<p>It is not only a right, but a duty to examine +these theories, since they are held seriously and +urged earnestly by able men. But we must doubt +whether they ought to claim the authority of +science. They are proposed by scientific men, and +they refer to scientific subjects. But these theories, +in their present development, belong to metaphysics +rather than to science. Science consists, +first, of observation of facts; secondly, of laws +inferred from those facts; and thirdly, of a verification +of those laws by new observation and experiment. +That which cannot be verified is no +part of science; astronomy is a science, since every +eclipse and occultation verifies its laws; geology +is a science, since every new observation of the +strata and their contents accords with the established +part of the system; chemistry is a science +for the same reason. But Darwin's theory of the +transformation of species by natural selection is as +yet unverified. "There is no evidence of a direct +descent of earlier from later species in the geological +succession of animals." So says Agassiz, and +on this point his testimony can hardly be impeached. +Professor W. Thompson, another good +geological authority, says: "In successive geological +formations, although new species are constantly +appearing, and there is abundant evidence of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> +progressive change, no single case has yet been +observed of one species passing through a series of +inappreciable modifications into another." Neither +has any such change taken place within historic +times, for the animals and plants found in the +tombs of Egypt are "identical, in all respects," +says M. Quatrefages, "with those now existing." +He adds the opinion, after a very careful and candid +examination of the hypothesis of Darwin, that +"the theory and the facts do not agree." Not +being verified, then, this theory is not yet science, +but an unverified mental hypothesis, that is, metaphysics.</p> + +<p>It is important that this should be distinctly +said, for when men eminent in science propound +new theories, these theories themselves are apt to +be regarded as science, and those who oppose them +are accused of being opposed to science. This is +the tendency which Professor Tyndall has so justly +described in this very address: "When the human +mind has achieved greatness and given evidence of +power in any domain, there is a tendency to credit +it with similar power in any other domain." Because +Tyndall is great in experimental science, +many are apt to accept his cosmological conclusions. +Because he is a great observer in natural +history, his metaphysical theories are supposed to +be supported by observation, and to rest on experience. +Professor Tyndall's own address terminates, +not in science, but nescience. It treats of a realm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> +of atoms and molecules whose existence science +has never demonstrated, and attributes to them +potencies which science has never verified. It is a +system, not made necessary by the stringent constraint +of facts, but avowedly constructed in order +to avoid the belief in an intelligent Creator, and a +universe marked by the presence of design. His +theory, he admits, no less than that of Darwin, +was not constructed in the pure interests of truth +for its own sake. There was another purpose in +both,—to get rid of a theology of final causes, of a +theology which conceives of God as a human artificer. +He wished to exclude religion from the +field of cosmogony, and forbid it to intrude on the +region of knowledge. Theologians have often been +reproached for studying "with a purpose," but it +seems that this is a frailty belonging not to theologians +only, but to all human beings who care a +good deal for what they believe.</p> + +<p>Professor Tyndall accepts religious faith as an +important element of human nature, but considers +it as confined to the sentiments, and as not based +in knowledge. He doubtless comes to this conclusion +from following too implicitly the traditions of +modern English psychology. These assume that +knowledge comes only from without, through the +senses, and never from within, through intuition. +This prepossession, singularly English and insular, +is thus stated by John Stuart Mill in his article on +Coleridge. "Sensation, and the mind's consciousness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> +of its own acts, are not only the exclusive +sources, but the sole materials of our knowledge. +There is no knowledge <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">a priori</i>; no truths cognizable +by the mind's inward light, and grounded on +intuitive evidence." These views have been developed +in England by the two Mills, Herbert +Spencer, Bain, and others, who have made great +efforts to show how sensations may be transformed +into thoughts; how association of ideas may have +developed instincts; how hereditary impressions, +repeated for a million years, may at last have +taken on the aspect of necessary truths. In short, +they have laid out great labor and ingenuity in +proving that a sensation may, very gradually, be +transformed into a thought.</p> + +<p>But all this labor is probably a waste of time +and of intellectual power. The attempt at turning +sensation into thought only results in turning +thought into sensation. It is an error that we +only know what we perceive through the senses, +or transform by the action of the mind. It is not +true that we only know that of which we can form +a sensible image. We know the existence of the +soul as certainly as that of the body. We know +the infinite and the eternal as well as we know the +finite and temporal. We know substance, cause, +immortal beauty, absolute truth, as surely as the +flitting phenomena which pass within the sphere +of sensational experience. These convictions belong, +not to the sphere of sentiment and emotion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> +but to that of knowledge. It is because they +show us realities and not imaginations, that they +nerve the soul to such vast efforts in the sphere of +morals, literature, and religion.</p> + +<p>The arguments against the independent existence +of the soul which Tyndall puts into the +mouth of his Lucretian disciple are not difficult to +answer. "You can form no picture of the soul," +he says. No; and neither can we form a mental +picture of love or hate, of right and wrong, or +even of bodily pain and pleasure. "If localized +in the body, the soul must have form." Must a +pain, localized in the finger, have form? "When +a leg is amputated, in which part does the soul +reside?" We answer, that the soul resides in the +body, with reduced power. Its instrument is less +perfect than before—like a telescope which has +lost a lens. "If consciousness is an essential attribute +of the soul, where is the soul when consciousness +ceases by the depression of the brain?" +Is there any difficulty, we reply, in supposing that +the soul may pass sometimes into a state of torpor, +when its instrument is injured? A soul may +sleep, and so be unconscious, without being dead. +"The diseased brain may produce immorality: +can the reason control it? If not, what is the use +of the reason?" To this we answer that the soul +may lose its power with a diseased body; but +when furnished with another and better body, it +will regain it. "If you regard the body only as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> +an instrument, you will neglect to take care of it." +Does the astronomer neglect to take care of his +telescope?</p> + +<p>These answers to the Lucretian may be far +from complete; but they are at least as good as +the objections. The soul, no doubt, depends on +the body, and cannot do its work well when the +body is out of order; but does that prove it to be +the <em>result</em> of the body? If so, the same argument +would prove the carpenter to be the result of his +box of tools, and the organist to be the result of +his organ. The organist draws sweet music from +his instrument. But as his organ grows old, or is +injured by the weather, or the pipes crack, and the +pedals get out of order, the music becomes more +and more imperfect. At last the instrument is +wholly ruined, and the music wholly ceases. Is, +then, the organist dead, or was he only the result +of the organ? "Without phosphorus, no thought," +say the materialists. True. So, "without the +organ, no music." Just as in addition to the +musical instrument we need a performer, so in +addition to the brain we need a soul.</p> + +<p>There are two worlds of knowledge,—the outward +world, which is perceived through the senses, +and which belongs to physical science, and the +inward world, perceived by the nobler reason, and +from which a celestial light streams in, irradiating +the mind through all its powers. Religion and +science are not opposed, though different; their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> +spheres are different, though not to be divided. +Each is supreme in its own region, but each needs +the help of the other in order to do its own work +well. Professor Tyndall claims freedom of discussion +and inquiry for himself and his scientific +brethren, and says he will oppose to the death any +limitation of this liberty. He need not be anxious +on this point. Religious faith has already fought +this battle, and won for science as well as for itself +perfect liberty of thought. The Protestant +churches may say, "With a great sum obtained +we this freedom." By the lives of its confessors +and the blood of its martyrs has it secured for all +men to-day equal rights of thought and speech. +What neither Copernicus, Kepler, nor Galileo +could do was accomplished by the courage of +Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox, and +Oliver Cromwell.</p> + +<p>And now the freedom they obtained by such +sacrifices we inherit and enjoy: "We are free-born." +We may be thankful that in most countries +to-day no repression nor dictation prevents +any man from expressing his inmost thought. +We are glad that the most rabid unbelief and +extreme denial can be spoken calmly in the open +day. This is one great discovery of modern times, +that errors lose half their influence when openly +uttered. We owe this discovery to the Reformation. +The reformers made possible a toleration +much larger than their own; unwittingly, while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> +seeking freedom for their own thoughts, they won +the same freedom for others, who went farther +than they. They builded better than they knew.</p> + +<div class="tb">*<span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span></div> + +<p>Professor Tyndall's address is tranquil yet earnest, +modest, and manly. But its best result is, that +it shows us the impotence of the method of sensation +to explain the mystery of the universe. It +has shown us clearly the limitations of "the understanding +judging by sense"—shown that it sees +our world clearly, but is blind to the other. It +can tell every blade of grass, and name every +mineral; but it stands helpless and hopeless before +the problem of being. Science and religion +may each say with the apostle, "We know in part +and prophesy in part." Together and united, +they may one day see and know the whole.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="LAW AND DESIGN IN NATURE"><a id="LAW">LAW AND DESIGN IN NATURE</a><a name="FNanchor_22" id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">22</a></h2> + +<p>In the paper which opens this discussion on +"Law and Design in Nature," Professor Newcomb +announces in a single sentence a proposition, the +truth or falsehood of which, he tells us, is "the sole +question presented for discussion in the present +series of papers."</p> + +<p>But, as soon as we examine this proposition, we +find that it contains not one sole question, but +three. The three are independent of each other, +and do not necessarily stand or fall together. They +are <span class="locked">these:—</span></p> + +<p>1. "The whole course of Nature, considered as +a succession of phenomena, is conditioned solely +by antecedent causes."</p> + +<p>2. In the action of these causes, "no regard to +consequences is traceable."</p> + +<p>3. And no regard to consequences is "necessary +to foresee the phenomena."</p> + +<p>Of these three propositions I admit the truth +of the first; deny the truth of the second; and, +for want of space, and because of its relative unimportance, +leave the third unexamined.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> +The first proposition is so evidently true, and +so universally admitted, that it was hardly worth +positing for discussion. It is merely affirming that +every natural phenomenon implies a cause. The +word "antecedent" is ambiguous, but, if it intends +logical and not chronological antecedence, it is unobjectionable. +So understood, we are merely asked +if we can accept the law of universal causation; +which I suppose we shall all readily do, since this +law is the basis of theology no less than of science. +Without it, we could not prove the existence of +the first cause. Professor Newcomb has divided +us into two conflicting schools, one of theology +and the other of science. Taking my place in the +school of theology, I think I may safely assert for +my brethren that on this point there is no conflict, +but that we all admit the truth of the law of universal +causation. It will be noticed that Professor +Newcomb has carefully worded his statement, so +as not to confine us to physical causes, nor even +to exclude supernatural causes from without, working +into the nexus of natural laws. He does not +say "antecedent physical causes," nor does he say +"causes which have existed from the beginning."</p> + +<p>Admitting thus the truth of the first proposition, +I must resolutely deny that of the second; since, +by accepting it, I should surrender the very cause +I wish to defend, namely, that we can perceive +design in Nature. Final causes are those which +"regard consequences." The principle of finality<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> +is defined by M. Janet (in his recent exhaustive +work, "Les Causes finales") as "the present determined +by the future." One example of the way +in which we can trace in Nature "a regard to consequences" +is so excellently stated by this eminent +philosopher that we will introduce it here: "Consider +what is implied in the egg of a bird. In the +mystery and night of incubation there comes, by +the combination of an incredible number of causes, +a living machine within the egg. It is absolutely +separated from the external world, but every part +is related to some future use. The outward physical +world which the creature is to inhabit is wholly +divided by impenetrable veils from this internal +laboratory; but a preëstablished harmony exists +between them. Without, there is light; within, +an optical machine adapted to it. Without, there +is sound; within, an acoustic apparatus. Without, +are vegetables and animals; within, organs for +their reception and assimilation. Without, is air; +within, lungs with which to breathe it. Without, +is oxygen; within, blood to be oxygenized. Without, +is earth; within, feet are being made to walk +on it. Without, is the atmosphere; within, are +wings with which to fly through it. Now imagine +a blind and idiotic workman, alone in a cellar, who +simply by moving his limbs to and fro should be +found to have forged a key capable of opening the +most complex lock. If we exclude design, this is +what Nature is supposed to be doing."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> +That design exists in Nature, and that earthly +phenomena actually depend on final causes as well +as on efficient causes, appears from the industry of +man. Man is certainly a part of Nature, and those +who accept evolution must regard him as the highest +development resulting from natural processes. +Now, all over the earth, from morning till evening, +men are acting for ends. "Regard to consequences +is traceable" in all their conduct. They +are moved by hope and expectation. They devise +plans, and act for a purpose. From the savage +hammering his flint arrowheads, up to a Shakespeare +composing "Hamlet," a Columbus seeking +a new way to Asia, or a Paul converting Europe +to a Syrian religion, human industry is a constant +proof that a large part of the course of Nature on +this earth is the result of design. And, as man +develops into higher stages, this principle of design +rises also from the simple to the complex, taking +ever larger forms. A ship, for instance, shows +throughout the adaptation of means to ends, by +which complex adaptations produce a unity of +result.</p> + +<p>And that there is no conflict between the action +of physical causes and final causes is demonstrated +by the works of man, since they all result from the +harmonious action of both. In studying human +works we ask two questions,—"How?" and +"Why?" We ask, "What is it for?" and "How +is it done?" The two lines of inquiry run parallel,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> +and without conflict. So, in studying the +works of Nature, to seek for design does not obstruct +the investigation of causes, and may often +aid it. Thus Harvey is said to have been led to +the discovery of the circulation of the blood by +seeking for the use of the valves of the veins and +heart.</p> + +<p>The human mind is so constituted that, whenever +it sees an event, it is obliged to infer a cause. +So, whenever it sees adaptation, it infers design. +It is not necessary to know the end proposed, or +who were the agents. Adaptation itself, implying +the use of means, leads us irresistibly to infer intention. +We do not know who built Stonehenge, +or some of the pyramids, or what they were built +for; but no one doubts that they were the result +of design. This inference is strengthened if we +see combination toward an end, and preparation +made beforehand for a result which comes afterward. +From preparation, combination, and adaptation, +we are led to believe in the presence of human +design even where we did not before know +of the presence of human beings. A few rudely +shaped stones, found in a stratum belonging to the +Quaternary period, in which man had before not +been believed to exist, changed that opinion. Those +chipped flints showed adaptation; from adaptation +design was inferred; and design implied the presence +of man.</p> + +<p>Now, we find in Nature, especially in the organization<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> +and instincts of animals, myriads of similar +instances of preparation, combination, and adaptation. +Two explanations only of this occurred to +antiquity,—design and chance. Socrates, Plato, +and others, were led by such facts to infer the +creation of the world by an intelligent author—"ille +opifex rerum." Democritus, Epicurus, and +Lucretius, ascribed it to the fortuitous concourse +of atoms. But modern science has expelled chance +from the universe, and substituted law. Laplace, +observing forty-three instances in the solar system +of planets and their satellites revolving on their +axes or moving in their orbits, from west to east, +declared that this could not be a mere coincidence. +Chance, therefore, being set aside, the question +takes another form: "Did the cosmos that we see +come by design or by law?"</p> + +<p>But does this really change the question? +Granting, for example, the truth of the theory +of the development of all forms of life, under the +operation of law, from a primal cell, we must then +ask, "Did these <em>laws</em> come by chance or by design?" +It is not possible to evade that issue. If +the universe resulted from non-intelligent forces, +those forces themselves must have existed as the +result of chance or of intelligence. If you put out +the eyes, you leave blindness; if you strike intelligence +out of the creative mystery, you leave blind +forces, the result of accident. Whatever is not +from intelligence is from accident. To substitute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> +law for chance is merely removing the difficulty a +little further back; it does not solve it.</p> + +<p>To eliminate interventions from the universe is +not to remove design. The most profound theists +have denied such interruptions of the course of Nature. +Leibnitz is an illustrious example of this. +Janet declares him to have been the true author of +the theory of evolution, by his "Law of Continuity," +of "Insensible Perceptions," and of "Infinitely +Small Increments." Yet he also fully believed +in final causes. Descartes, who objected to some +teleological statements, believed that the Creator +imposed laws on chaos by which the world emerged +into a cosmos. We know that existing animals +are evolved by a continuous process from eggs, and +existing vegetables by a like process from seeds. +No one ever supposed that there was less of design +on this account in their creation. So, if all existing +things came at first by a like process from a +single germ, it would not argue less, but far more, +of design in the universe.</p> + +<p>The theory of "natural selection" does not +enable us to dispense with final causes. This +theory requires the existence of forces working +according to the law of heredity and the law of +variation, together with a suitable environment. +But whence came this arrangement, by which a +law of heredity was combined with a law of variation, +and both made to act in a suitable environment? +Here we find again the three marks of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> +designing intelligence: preparation, combination, +adaptation. That intelligence which combines and +adapts means to ends is merely remanded to the +initial step of the process, instead of being allowed +to act continuously along the whole line of evolution. +Even though you can explain by the action +of mechanical forces the whole development of the +solar system and its contents from a nebula, you +have only accumulated all the action of a creative +intelligence in the nebula itself. Because I can +explain the mechanical process by which a watch +keeps time, I have not excluded the necessity of a +watchmaker. Because, walking through my neighbor's +grounds, I come upon a water-ram pumping +up water by a purely mechanical process, I do not +argue that this mechanism makes the assumption +of an inventor superfluous. In human industry +we perceive a power capable of using the blind +forces of Nature for an intelligent end; which prepares +beforehand for the intended result; which +combines various conditions suited to produce it, +and so creates order, system, use. But we observe +in Nature exactly similar examples of order, method, +and system, resulting from a vast number of combinations, +correlations, and adaptations of natural +forces. Man himself is such a result. He is an +animal capable of activity, happiness, progress. +But innumerable causes are combined and harmonized +in his physical frame, each necessary to +this end. As the human intelligence is the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> +power we know capable of accomplishing such +results, analogy leads us to assume that a similar +intelligence presides over the like combinations of +means to ends in Nature. If any one questions +the value of this argument from analogy, let him +remember how entirely we rely upon it in all the +business of life. We <em>know</em> only the motives which +govern our own actions; but we infer by analogy +that others act from similar motives. Knowing +that we ourselves combine means designed to effect +ends, when we see others adapting means to ends, +we assume that they act also with design. Hence +we have a right to extend the argument further +and higher.</p> + +<p>The result of what I have said is this: The +phenomena of the universe cannot be satisfactorily +explained except by the study both of efficient +causes and of final causes. Routine scientists, +confining themselves to the one, and routine theologians, +confining themselves to the other, may +suppose them to be in conflict. But men of larger +insight, like Leibnitz, Newton, Descartes, and +Bacon, easily see the harmony between them. +Like Hegel they say: "Nature is no less artful +than powerful; it attains its end while it allows +all things to act according to their constitution;" +or they declare with Bacon that "the highest link +of Nature's chain is fastened to the foot of Jupiter's +chair." But the belief in final causes does +not imply belief in supernatural intervention, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> +of any disturbance in the continuity of natural +processes. It means that Nature is pervaded by +an intelligent presence; that mind is above and +around matter; that mechanical laws are themselves +a manifestation of some providing wisdom, +and that when we say Nature we also say <span class="locked">God.<a name="FNanchor_23" id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">23</a></span></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HISTORICAL_AND_BIOGRAPHICAL" id="HISTORICAL_AND_BIOGRAPHICAL"> +<span class="larger">HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL</span></a></h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2 title="THE TWO CARLYLES, OR CARLYLE PAST AND PRESENT"><a id="CARLYLES">THE TWO CARLYLES, OR CARLYLE PAST AND PRESENT</a><a name="FNanchor_24" id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">24</a></h2> + +<p>In Thomas Carlyle's earlier days, when he followed +a better inspiration than his present,—when +his writings were steeped, not in cynicism, +but in the pure human love of his fellow beings,—in +the days when he did not worship Force, but +Truth and Goodness,—in those days, it was the +fashion of critics to pass the most sweeping censures +on his writings as "affected," "unintelligible," +"extravagant." But he worked his way on, +in spite of that superficial criticism,—he won for +himself an audience; he gained renown; he became +authentic. <em>Now</em>, the same class of critics +admire and praise whatever he writes. For the +rule with most critics is that of the bully in school +and college,—to tyrannize over the new boys, to +abuse the strangers, but to treat with respect whoever +has bravely fought his way into a recognized +position. Carlyle has fought his way into the position +of a great literary chief,—so now he may be +ever so careless, ever so willful, and he will be spoken +of in high terms by all monthlies and quarterlies. +When he deserved admiration, he was treated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> +with cool contempt; now that he deserves the sharpest +criticism, not only for his false moral position, +but for his gross literary sins, the critics treat him +with deference and respect.</p> + +<p>But let us say beforehand that we can never +write of Thomas Carlyle with bitterness. We +have received too much good from him in past +days. He is our "Lost Leader," but we have +loved and honored him as few men were ever loved +and honored. It is therefore with tenderness, and +not any cold, indifferent criticism, that we find +fault with him now. We shall always be grateful +to the real Carlyle, the old Carlyle of "Sartor Resartus," +of the "French Revolution," of the "Life +of Schiller," of "Heroes and Hero-Worship," and +of that long and noble series of articles in the +Edinburgh, Foreign Review, Westminster, and +Frazer, each of which illuminated some theme, and +threw the glory of genius over whatever his mind +touched or his pencil drew.</p> + +<div class="tb">*<span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span></div> + +<p>Carlyle's "Frederick the <span class="locked">Great"<a name="FNanchor_25" id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">25</a></span> seems to us a +badly written book. Let us consider the volume +containing the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth +chapters. Nothing in these chapters is brought +out clearly. When we have finished the book, the +mind is filled with a confusion of vague images.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> +We know that Mr. Carlyle is not bound to "provide +us with brains" as well as with a history, but +neither was he so bound in other days. Yet no +such confusion was left after reading the "French +Revolution." How brilliantly distinct was every +leading event, every influential person, every pathetic +or poetic episode, in that charmed narrative! +Who can forget Carlyle's account of the "Menads," +the King's "Flight to Varennes," the Constitutions +that "would not march," the "September +Massacres," "Charlotte Corday,"—every chief +tragic movement, every grotesque episode, moving +forward, distinct and clear, to the final issue, "a +whiff of grapeshot"? Is there anything like that +in this confused "Frederick"?</p> + +<p>Compare, for example, the chapters on Voltaire +in the present volume with the article on Voltaire +published in 1829.</p> + +<p>The sixteenth book is devoted to the ten years +of peace which followed the second Silesian war. +These were from 1746 to 1756. The book contains +fifteen chapters. Carlyle begins, in chapter +i., by lamenting that there is very little to be +known or said about these ten years. "Nothing +visible in them of main significance but a crash of +authors' quarrels, and the crowning visit of Voltaire." +Yet one would think that matter enough +might be found in describing the immense activity +of Friedrich, of which Macaulay says, "His exertions +were such as were hardly to be expected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> +from a human body or a human mind." During +these years Frederick brought a seventh part of +his people into the army, and organized and drilled +it under his own personal inspection, till it became +the finest in Europe. He compiled a code of laws, +in which he, among the first, abolished torture. +He made constant journeys through his dominions, +examining the condition of manufactures, +arts, commerce, and agriculture. He introduced +the strictest economy into the expenditures of the +state. He indulged himself, indeed, in various +architectural extravagances at Berlin and Potsdam,—but +otherwise saved every florin for his +army. He wrote "Memoirs of the House of +Brandenburg," and an epic poem on the "Art of +War." But our author disdains to give us an +account of these things. They are not picturesque, +they can be told in only general terms, and Carlyle +will tell us only what an eyewitness could see or a +listener hear. Accordingly, instead of giving us +an account of these great labors of his hero, he +inserts (chapter ii.) "a peep at Voltaire and his +divine Emilie," "a visit to Frederick by Marshal +Saxe;" (chapter iii.) a long account of Candidate +Linsenbarth's visit to the king; "Sir Jonas +Hanway stalks across the scene;" the lawsuit of +Voltaire about the Jew Hirsch; "a demon news-writer +gives an idea of Friedrich;" the quarrel of +Voltaire and Maupertuis; "Friedrich is visible in +Holland to the naked eye for some minutes."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> +This is very unsatisfactory. Reports of eyewitnesses +are, no doubt, picturesque and valuable; but +so only on condition of being properly arranged, +and tending, in their use, toward some positive +result. Then the tone of banter, of irony, almost +of persiflage, is discouraging. If the whole story +of Friedrich is so unintelligible, uninteresting, or +incommunicable, why take the trouble to write it? +The <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">poco-curante</i> air with which he narrates, as +though it were of no great consequence whether he +told his story or not, contrasts wonderfully with +his early earnestness. Carlyle writes this history +like a man thoroughly <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">blasé</i>. Impossible for him +to take any interest in it himself,—how, then, does +he expect to interest us? Has he not himself told +us, in his former writings, that the man who +proposes to teach others anything must be good +enough to believe it first himself?</p> + +<p>Here is the problem we have to solve. How +came this change from the Carlyle of the Past to +the Carlyle of the Present,—from Carlyle the +universal believer to Carlyle the universal skeptic,—from +him to whom the world was full of wonder +and beauty, to him who can see in it nothing but +Force on the one side and Shams on the other? +What changed that tender, loving, brave soul into +this hard cynic? And how was it, as Faith and +Love faded out of him, that the life passed from +his thought, the glory from his pen, and the +page, once alive with flashing ideas, turned into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> +this confused heap of rubbish, in which silver +spoons, old shoes, gold sovereigns, and copper pennies +are pitched out promiscuously, for the patient +reader to sift and pick over as he can? In reading +the Carlyle of thirty years ago, we were like +California miners,—come upon a rich <em>placer</em>, +never before opened, where we could all become +rich in a day. Now the reader of Carlyle is a +<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">chiffonier</i>, raking in a heap of street dust for whatever +precious matters may turn up.</p> + +<p>To investigate this question is our purpose now,—and +in doing so we will consider, in succession, +these two Carlyles.</p> + +<p>I. It was about the year 1830 that readers of +books in this vicinity became aware of a new power +coming up in the literary republic. Opinions concerning +him varied widely. To some he seemed a +Jack Cade, leader of rebels, foe to good taste and all +sound opinions. Especially did his admiration for +Goethe and for German literature seem to many +preposterous and extravagant. It was said of +these, that "the force of folly could no further +go,"—that they "constituted a burlesque too +extravagant to be amusing." The tone of Carlyle +was said to be of "unbounded assumption;" his +language to be "obscure and barbarous;" his +ideas composed of "extravagant paradoxes, familiar +truths or familiar falsehoods;" "wildest extravagance +and merest silliness."</p> + +<p>But to others, and especially to the younger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> +men, this new writer came, opening up unknown +worlds of beauty and wonder. A strange influence, +unlike any other, attracted us to his writing. +Before we knew his name, we knew <em>him</em>. We +could recognize an article by our new author as +soon as we opened the pages of the Foreign Review, +Edinburgh, or Westminster, and read a few +paragraphs. But it was not the style, though +marked by a singular freedom and originality—not +the tone of kindly humor, the good-natured +irony, the happy illustrations brought from afar,—not +the amount of literary knowledge, the familiarity +with German, French, Italian, Spanish +literature,—not any or all of these which so bewitched +us. We knew a young man who used to +walk from a neighboring town to Boston every +week, in order to read over again two articles by +Carlyle in two numbers of the Foreign Review +lying on a table in the reading-room of the Athenæum. +This was his food, in the strength of +which he could go a week, till hunger drove him +back to get another meal at the same table. We +knew other young men and young women who +taught themselves German in order to read for +themselves the authors made so luminous by this +writer. Those were counted fortunate who possessed +the works of our author, as yet unpublished +in America,—his "Life of Schiller," his "German +Romance," his Review articles. What, then, +was the charm,—whence the fascination?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> +To explain this we must describe a little the +state of literature and opinion in this vicinity at +the time when Carlyle's writings first made their +appearance.</p> + +<p>Unitarianism and Orthodoxy had fought their +battle, and were resting on their arms. Each had +intrenched itself in certain positions, each had won +to its side most of those who legitimately belonged +to it. Controversy had done all it could, and had +come to an end. Among the Unitarians, the so-called +"practical preaching" was in vogue; that +is, ethical and moral essays, pointing out the goodness +of being good, and the excellence of what was +called "moral virtue." There was, no doubt, a +body of original thinkers and writers,—better +thinkers and writers, it may be, than we have now,—who +were preparing the way for another advance. +Channing had already unfolded his doctrine +of man, of which the central idea is, that +human nature is not to be moulded by religion, +but to be developed by it. Walker, Greenwood, +Ware, and their brave associates, were conducting +this journal with unsurpassed ability. But something +more was needed. The general character of +preaching was not of a vitalizing sort. It was +much like what Carlyle says of preaching in England +at the same period: "The most enthusiastic +Evangelicals do not preach a Gospel, but keep +describing how it should and might be preached; +to awaken the sacred fire of faith is not their endeavor;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> +but at most, to describe how faith shows +and acts, and scientifically to distinguish true faith +from false." It is "not the Love of God which is +taught, but the love of the Love of God."</p> + +<p>According to this, God was outside of the world, +at a distance from his children, and obliged to +communicate with them in this indirect way, by +breaking through the walls of natural law with an +occasional miracle. There was no door by which +he could enter into the sheepfold to his sheep. +Miracles were represented, even by Dr. Channing, +as abnormal, as "violations of the laws of nature;" +something, therefore, unnatural and monstrous, +and not to be believed except on the best evidence. +God could not be supposed to break through the +walls of this house of nature, except in order to +speak to his children on some great occasions. +That he had done it, in the case of Christianity, +could be proved by the eleven volumes of Dr. +Lardner, which showed the Four Gospels to have +been written by the companions of Christ, and not +otherwise.</p> + +<p>The whole of this theory rested, it will be observed, +on a sensuous system of mental philosophy. +"All knowledge comes through the senses," was +its foundation. Revelation, like every other form +of knowledge, must come through the senses. A +miracle, which appeals to the sight, touch, hearing, +is the only possible proof of a divine act. For, +in the last analysis, all our theology rests on our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> +philosophy. Theology, being belief, must proceed +according to those laws of belief, whatever +they are, which we accept and hold. The man +who thinks that all knowledge comes through the +senses must receive his theological knowledge also +that way, and no other. This was the general +opinion thirty or forty years ago; hence this theory +of Christianity, which supposes that God is +obliged to break his own laws in order to communicate +it.</p> + +<p>But the result of this belief was harmful. It +tended to make our religion formal, our worship +a mere ceremony; it made real communication +with God impossible; it turned prayer into a +self-magnetizing operation; it left us virtually +"without God and hope in the world." Thanks +to Him who never leaves himself without a witness +in the human heart, this theory was often nullified +in practice by the irrepressible instincts which it +denied, by the spiritual intuitions which it ridiculed. +Even Professor Norton, its chief champion, +had a heart steeped in the sweetest piety. Denying, +intellectually, all intuitions of God, Duty, +and Immortality, his beautiful and tender hymns +show the highest spiritual insight. Still it cannot +be denied that this theory tended to dry up the +fountains of religious faith in the human heart, +and to leave us in a merely mechanical and unspiritualized +world.</p> + +<p>Now the first voice which came to break this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> +enchantment was, to many, the voice of Thomas +Carlyle. It needed for this end, it always needs, +a man who could come face to face with Truth. +Every great idol-breaker, every man who has delivered +the world from the yoke of Forms, has +been one who was able to see the substance of +things, who was gifted with the insight of realities. +Forms of worship, forms of belief, at first the +channels of life, through which the Living Spirit +flowed into human hearts, at last became petrified, +incrusted, choked. A few drops of the vital +current still ooze slowly through them, and our +parched lips, sucking these few drops, cling all the +more closely to the form as it becomes less and +less a vehicle of life. The poorest word, old and +trite, is precious when there is no open vision. +We do well continually to resort to the half-dead +form, "till the day dawn, and the day-star arise in +our hearts."</p> + +<p>But at last there comes a man capable of dispensing +with the form,—a man endowed with a +high degree of the intuitive faculty,—a born seer, +a prophet, seeing the great realities of the universe +with open vision. The work of such a man is to +break up the old formulas and introduce new light +and life. This work was done for the Orthodox +thirty years ago by the writings of Coleridge; for +the Unitarians in this vicinity, by the writings of +Thomas Carlyle.</p> + +<p>This was the secret of the enthusiasm felt for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> +Carlyle, in those days, by so many of the younger +men and women. He taught us to look at realities +instead of names, at substance instead of surface,—to +see God in the world, in nature, in life, +in providence, in man,—to see divine truth and +beauty and wonder everywhere around. He taught +that the only organ necessary by which to see the +divine in all things was sincerity, or inward truth. +And so he enabled us to escape from the form into +the spirit, he helped us to rise to that plane of +freedom from which we could see the divine in the +human, the infinite in the finite, God in man, +heaven on earth, immortality beginning here, eternity +pervading time. This made for us a new +heaven and a new earth, a new religion and a new +life. Faith was once more possible, a faith not +bought by the renunciation of mature reason or +the beauty and glory of the present hour.</p> + +<p>But all this was taught us by our new prophet, +not by the intellect merely, but by the spirit in +which he spoke. He did not seem to be giving us +a new creed, so much as inspiring us with a new +life. That which came from his experience went +into ours. Therefore it might have been difficult, +in those days, for any of his disciples to state what +it was that they had learned from him. They had +not learned his doctrine,—they had absorbed it. +Hence, very naturally, came the imitations of +Carlyle, which so disgusted the members of the +old school. Hence the absurd Carlylish writing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> +the feeble imitations by honest, but weak disciples +of the great master. It was a pity, but not unnatural, +and it soon passed by.</p> + +<p>As Carlyle thus did his work, not so much +by direct teaching as by an influence hidden in +all that he said, it did not much matter on what +subject he wrote,—the influence was there still. +But his articles on Goethe were the most attractive, +because he asserted that in this patriarch of +German literature he had found one who saw in +all things their real essence, one whose majestic +and trained intelligence could interpret to us in all +parts of nature and life the inmost quality, the +<i xml:lang="it" lang="it">terza essenza</i>, as the Italian Platonists called it, +which made each itself. Goethe was announced +as the prophet of Realism. He, it should seem, +had perfectly escaped from words into things. He +saw the world, not through dogmas, traditions, +formulas, but as it was in itself. To him</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i6q">"the world's unwithered countenance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was fresh as on creation's day."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Consider the immense charm of such hopes as +these! No wonder that the critics complained +that the disciples of Carlyle were "insensible to +ridicule." What did they care for the laughter, +which seemed to them, in their enthusiasm, like +"the crackling of thorns under the pot." Ridicule, +in fact, never touches the sincere enthusiast. +It is a good and useful weapon against affectation, +but it falls, shivered to pieces, from the magic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> +breastplate of truth. No sincere person, at work +in a cause which he knows to be important, ever +minds being laughed at.</p> + +<p>But besides his admirable discussions of Goethe, +Carlyle's "Life of Schiller" opened the portals of +German literature, and made an epoch in biography +and criticism. It was a new thing to read a +biography written with such enthusiasm,—to find +a critic who could really write with reverence and +tender love of the poet whom he criticised. Instead +of taking his seat on the judicial bench, and +calling his author up before him to be judged as +a culprit, Carlyle walks with Schiller through the +circles of his poems and plays, as Dante goes with +Virgil through the Inferno and Paradiso. He +accepts the great poet as his teacher and <span class="locked">master,<a name="FNanchor_26" id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">26</a></span> +a thing unknown before in all criticism. It was +supposed that a biographer would become a mere +Boswell if he looked up to his hero, instead of +looking down on him. It was not understood that +it was that "angel of the world," Reverence, +which had exalted even a poor, mean, vain fool, +like Boswell, and enabled him to write one of the +best books ever written. It was not his reverence +for Johnson which made Boswell a fool,—his +reverence for Johnson made him, a fool, capable of +writing one of the best books of modern times.</p> + +<p>This capacity of reverence in Carlyle—this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> +power of perceiving a divine, infinite quality in +human souls—tinges all his biographical writing +with a deep religious tone. He wrote of Goethe, +Schiller, Richter, Burns, Novalis, even Voltaire, +with reverence. He could see their defects easily +enough, he could playfully expose their weaknesses; +but beneath all was the sacred undertone of reverence +for the divine element in each,—for that +which God had made and meant them to be, and +which they had realized more or less imperfectly +in the struggle of life. The difference between +the reverence of a Carlyle and that of a Boswell +is, that one is blind and the other intelligent. The +one worships his hero down to his shoes and stockings, +the other distinguishes the divine idea from +its weak embodiment.</p> + +<p>Two articles from this happy period—that on +the "Signs of the Times" and that called "Characteristics"—indicate +some of Carlyle's leading +ideas concerning right thinking and right living. +In the first, he declares the present to be an age +of mechanism,—not heroic, devout, or philosophic. +All things are done by machinery. "Men +have no faith in individual endeavor or natural +force." "Metaphysics has become material." +Government is a machine. All this he thinks +evil. The living force is in the individual soul,—not +mechanic, but dynamic. Religion is a calculation +of expediency, not an impulse of worship; no +thousand-voiced psalm from the heart of man to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> +invisible Father, the Fountain of all goodness, +beauty, and truth, but a contrivance by which a +small quantum of earthly enjoyment may be exchanged +for a much larger quantum of celestial +enjoyment. "Virtue is pleasure, is profit." "In +all senses we worship and follow after power, which +may be called a physical pursuit." (Ah, Carlyle +of the Present! does not that wand of thine old +true self touch thee?) "No man now loves truth, +as truth must be loved, with an infinite love; but +only with a finite love, and, as it were, <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">par amours</i>."</p> + +<p>In the other article, "Characteristics," printed +two years later, in 1831, he unfolds the doctrine of +"Unconsciousness" as the sign of health in soul +as well as body. He finds society sick everywhere; +he finds its religion, literature, science, all +diseased, yet he ends the article, as the other was +ended, in hope of a change to something better.</p> + +<p>These two articles may be considered as an introduction +to his next great work, "Sartor Resartus," +or the "Clothes-Philosophy." Here, in a +vein of irony and genial humor, he unfolds his +doctrine of substance and form. The object of all +thought and all experience is to look through +the clothes to the living beneath them. According +to his book, all human institutions are the +clothing of society; language is the garment of +thought, the heavens and earth the time-vesture +of the Eternal. So, too, are religious creeds and +ceremonies the clothing of religion; so are all symbols<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> +the vesture of some idea; so are the crown +and sceptre the vesture of government. This book +is the autobiography of a seeker for truth. In it +he is led from the shows of things to their innermost +substance, and as in all his other writings, he +teaches here also that sincerity, truthfulness, is the +organ by which we are led to the solid rock of +reality, which underlies all shows and shams.</p> + +<p>II. We now come to treat of Carlyle in his present +aspect,—a much less agreeable task. We +leave Carlyle the generous and gentle, for Carlyle +the hard cynic. We leave him, the friend of man, +lover of his race, for another Carlyle, advocate of +negro slavery, worshiper of mere force, sneering +at philanthropy, and admiring only tyrants, despots, +and slaveholders. The change, and the steps +which led to it, chronologically and logically, it is +our business to scrutinize,—not a grateful occupation +indeed, but possibly instructive and useful.</p> + +<p>Thomas Carlyle, after spending his previous life +in Scotland, and from 1827 to 1834 in his solitude +at Craigenputtoch, removed to London in the latter +year, when thirty-eight years old. Since then he +has permanently resided in London, in a house +situated on one of the quiet streets running at +right angles with the Thames. He came to London +almost an unknown man; he has there become +a great name and power in literature. He has had +for friends such men as John Stuart Mill, Sterling, +Maurice, Leigh Hunt, Browning, Thackeray, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> +Emerson. His "French Revolution" was published +in 1837; "Sartor Resartus" (published +in Frazer in 1833, and in Boston in a volume in +1836) was put forth collectively in 1838; and +in the same year his "Miscellanies" (also collected +and issued in Boston in 1838) were published in +London, in four volumes. "Chartism" was issued +in 1839. He gave four courses of Lectures in +Willis's rooms "to a select but crowded audience," +in 1837, 1838, 1839, and 1840. Only the last of +these—"Heroes and Hero-Worship"—was published. +"Past and Present" followed in 1843, +"Oliver Cromwell" in 1845. In 1850 he printed +"Latter-Day Pamphlets," and subsequently his +"Life of Sterling" (1851), and the four volumes, +now issued, of "Frederick the Great."</p> + +<p>The first evidence of an altered tendency is perhaps +to be traced in the "French Revolution." +It is a noble and glorious book; but, as one of his +friendly critics has said, "its philosophy is contemptuous +and mocking, and it depicts the varied +and gigantic characters which stalk across the +scene, not so much as responsible and living mortals, +as the mere mechanical implements of some +tremendous and irresistible destiny." In "Heroes +and Hero-Worship" the habit has grown of revering +mere will, rather than calm intellectual and +moral power. The same thing is shown in "Past +and Present," in "Cromwell," and in "Latter-Day +Pamphlets," which the critic quoted above<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> +says is "only remarkable as a violent imitation of +himself, and not of his better self." For the works +of this later period, indeed, the best motto would +be that verse from Daniel: "He shall exalt himself, +and magnify himself, and speak marvelous +things; neither shall he regard the God of his +fathers, but in his stead shall he honor the God +of Forces, a god whom his fathers knew not."</p> + +<p>Probably this apostasy from his better faith had +begun, before this, to show itself in conversation. +At least Margaret Fuller, in a letter dated 1846, +finds herself in his presence admiring his brilliancy, +but "disclaiming and rejecting almost +everything he said." "For a couple of hours," +says she, "he was talking about poetry, and the +whole harangue was one eloquent proclamation of +the defects in his own mind." "All Carlyle's talk, +another evening," says she, "was a defence of mere +force,—success the test of right; if people would +not behave well, put collars round their necks; +find a hero, and let them be his slaves." "Mazzini +was there, and, after some vain attempts to +remonstrate, became very sad. Mrs. Carlyle said +to me, 'These are but opinions to Carlyle; but to +Mazzini, who has given his all, and helped bring +his friends to the scaffold, in pursuit of such subjects, +it is a matter of life and death.'"</p> + +<p>As this mood of Mr. Carlyle comes out so +strongly in the "Latter-Day Pamphlets," it is perhaps +best to dwell on them at greater leisure.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> +The first is "The Present Time." In this he +describes Democracy as inevitable, but as utterly +evil; calls for a government; finds most European +governments, that of England included, to be shams +and falsities,—no-government, or drifting, to be a +yet greater evil. The object, he states, is to find +the noblest and best men to govern. Democracy +fails to do this; for universal balloting is not adequate +to the task. Democracy answered in the old +republics, when the mass were slaves, but will not +answer now. The United States are no proof of +its success, for (1st) anarchy is avoided merely by +the quantity of cheap land, and (2d) the United +States have produced no spiritual results, but only +material. Democracy in America is no-government, +and "its only feat is to have produced eighteen +millions of the greatest <em>bores</em> ever seen in the +world." Mr. Carlyle's plan, therefore, is to find, +somehow, the <em>best man</em> for a ruler, to make him a +despot, to make the mass of the English and Irish +slaves, to beat them if they will not work, to shoot +them if they still refuse. The only method of finding +this best man, which he suggests, is to <em>call for +him</em>. Accordingly, Mr. Thomas Carlyle <em>calls</em>, saying, +"Best man, come forward, and govern."</p> + +<p>The sum, therefore, of his recipe for the diseases +of the times is <span class="smcap">Slavery</span>.</p> + +<p>The second pamphlet is called "Model Prisons," +and the main object of this is to ridicule all attempts +at helping men by philanthropy or humanity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> +The talk of "Fraternity" is nonsense, and +must be drummed out of the world. Beginning +with model prisons, he finds them much too good +for the "scoundrels" who are shut up there. He +would have them whipped and hung (seventy +thousand in a year, we suppose, as in bluff King +Harry's time, with no great benefit therefrom). +"Revenge," he says, "is a right feeling against bad +men,—only the excess of it wrong." The proper +thing to say to a bad man is, "Caitiff, I hate thee." +"A collar round the neck, and a cart-whip over +the back," is what he thinks would be more just to +criminals than a model prison. The whole effort +of humanity should be to help the industrious and +virtuous poor; the criminals should be swept out of +the way, whipt, enslaved, or hung. As for human +brotherhood, he does not admit brotherhood with +"scoundrels." Particularly disgusting to him is it +to hear this philanthropy to bad men called Christianity. +Christianity, he thinks, does not tell us to +love the bad, but to hate them as God hates them. +According, probably, to his private expurgated +version of the Gospel, "that ye may be the children +of your Father in heaven, whose sun rises +only on the good, and whose rain falls only on the +just."</p> + +<p>"Downing Street" and "New Downing Street" +are fiery tirades against the governing classes in +England. Mr. Carlyle says (according to his inevitable +refrain), that England does not want a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> +reformed Parliament, a body of talkers, but a +reformed Downing Street, a body of workers. He +describes the utter imbecility of the English government, +and calls loudly for some able man to +take its place. Two passages are worth quoting; +the first as to England's aspect in her foreign relations, +which is quite as true for 1864 as for 1854.</p> + +<p>"How it stands with the Foreign Office, again, +one still less knows. Seizures of Sapienza, and the +like sudden appearances of Britain in the character +of Hercules-Harlequin, waving, with big bully-voice, +her sword of sharpness over field-mice, and +in the air making horrid circles (horrid Catherine-wheels +and death-disks of metallic terror from said +huge sword) to see how they will like it. Hercules-Harlequin, +the Attorney Triumphant, the +World's Busybody!"</p> + +<p>Or see the following description of the sort of +rulers who prevail in England, no less than in +<span class="locked">America:—</span></p> + +<p>"If our government is to be a No-Government, +what is the matter who administers it? Fling an +orange-skin into St. James Street, let the man it +hits be your man. He, if you bend him a little to +it, and tie the due official bladders to his ankles, +will do as well as another this sublime problem of +balancing himself upon the vortexes, with the long +loaded pole in his hand, and will, with straddling, +painful gestures, float hither and thither, walking +the waters in that singular manner for a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> +while, till he also capsize, and be left floating feet +uppermost,—after which you choose another."</p> + +<p>Concerning which we may say, that if this is the +result of monarchy and aristocracy in England, +we can stick a little longer to our democracy in +America. Mr. Carlyle says that the object of all +these methods is to find the ablest man for a ruler. +He thinks our republican method very insufficient +and absurd,—much preferring the English system,—and +then tells us that this is the outcome +of the latter; that you might as well select your +ruler by throwing an orange-skin into the street as +by the method followed in England.</p> + +<p>Despotism, tempered by assassination, seems to +be Carlyle's notion of a good government.</p> + +<p>The pamphlet "Stump-Orator" is simply a bitter +denunciation of all talking, speech-making, +and writing, as the curse of the time, and ends with +the proposition to cut out the tongues of one whole +generation, as an act of mercy to them and a blessing +to the human race.</p> + +<p>Thus this collection of "Latter-Day Pamphlets" +consists of the bitterest cynicism. Carlyle sits in +it, as in a tub, snarling at freedom, yelping at philanthropy, +growling at the English government, +snapping at all men who speak or write, and ending +with one long howl over the universal falsity +and hollowness of mankind in general.</p> + +<p>After which he proceeds to his final apotheosis +of despotism pure and simple, in this "Life of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> +Frederick the Great." Of this it is not necessary +to say more than that Frederick, being an absolute +despot, but a very able one, having plunged Europe +into war in order to steal Silesia, is everywhere +admired, justified, or excused by Carlyle, +who reserves his rebukes and contempt for those +who find fault with all this.</p> + +<p>That, with these opinions, Carlyle should have +taken sides with the slaveholders' conspiracy +against the Union is not surprising. His sympathies +were with them; first, as slaveholders, +secondly, as aristocrats. He hates us because we +are democrats, and he loves them because they are +despots and tyrants. Long before the outbreak of +the rebellion, he had ridiculed emancipation, and +denounced as folly and evil the noblest deed of +England,—the emancipation of her West India +slaves. In scornful, bitter satire, he denounced +England for keeping the fast which God had chosen, +in undoing the heavy burdens, letting the +oppressed go free, and breaking every yoke. He +ridiculed the black man, and described the poor +patient African as "Quashee, steeped to the eyes +in pumpkin." In the hateful service of oppression +he had already done his best to uphold slavery and +discourage freedom. And while he fully believed +in enslaving the laboring population, black or white, +and driving it to work by the cart-whip, he as fully +abhorred republicanism everywhere, and most of +all in the United States. He had exhausted the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> +resources of language in vilifying American institutions. +It was a matter of course, therefore, that +at the outbreak of this civil war all his sympathies +should be with those who whip women and sell +babies.</p> + +<p>How is it that this great change should have +taken place? Men change,—but not often in +this way. The ardent reformer often hardens into +the stiff conservative. The radical in religion is +very likely to join the Catholic Church. If a +Catholic changes his religion, he goes over to +atheism. To swing from one extreme to another, +is a common experience. But it is a new thing to +see calmness in youth, violence in age,—to find +the young man wise and all-sided, the old man +bigoted and narrow.</p> + +<p>We think the explanation to be this.</p> + +<p>Thomas Carlyle from the beginning has not +shown the least appreciation of the essential thing +in Christianity. Brought up in Scotland, inheriting +from Calvinism a sense of truth, a love of +justice, and a reverence for the Jewish Bible, he +has never passed out of Judaism into Christianity. +To him, Oliver Cromwell is the best type of true +religion; inflexible justice the best attribute of +God or man. He is a worshiper of Jehovah, not +of the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ. +He sees in God truth and justice; he does not see +in him love. He is himself a prophet after the +type of Elijah and John the Baptist. He is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> +voice crying in the wilderness; and we may say of +him, therefore, as was said of his prototype, "He +was a burning and a shining light, and ye were +willing, for a season, to rejoice in his light,"—but +not always,—not now.</p> + +<p>Carlyle does not, indeed, claim to be a Jew, or +to reject Christ. On the contrary, he speaks of +him with very sincere respect. He seems, however, +to know nothing of him but what he has read +in Goethe about the "worship of sorrow." The +Gospel appears to him to be, essentially, a worship +of sorrow. That Christ "came to save sinners,"—of +that Carlyle has not the faintest idea. To +him the notion of "saving sinners" is only "rose-water +philanthropy." He does not wish them +saved, he wishes them damned,—swept into hell +as soon as convenient.</p> + +<p>But, as everything which is real has two sides, +that of <em>truth</em> and that of <em>love</em>,—it usually happens +that he who only sees <em>one</em> side at last ceases even +to see that. All goodness, to Carlyle, is truth,—in +man it is sincerity, or love of reality, sight of +the actual facts,—in God it is justice, divine +adherence to law, infinite guidance of the world +and of every human soul according to a strict and +inevitable rule of righteousness. At first this +seems to be a providence,—and Carlyle has +everywhere, in the earlier epoch, shown full confidence +in Providence. But believe only in justice +and truth,—omit the doctrine of forgiveness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> +redemption, salvation,—and faith in Providence +becomes sooner or later a despairing fatalism. +The dark problem of evil remains insoluble without +the doctrine of redemption.</p> + +<p>So it was that Carlyle, seeing at first the chief +duty of man to be the worship of reality, the love +of truth, next made that virtue to consist in +sincerity, or being in earnest. Truth was being +true to one's self. In this lay the essence of heroism. +So that Burns, being sincere and earnest, +was a hero,—Odin was a hero,—Mohammed +was a hero,—Cromwell was a hero,—Mirabeau +and Danton were heroes,—and Frederick the +Great was a hero. That which was first the love +of truth, and caused him to reverence the calm +intellectual force of Schiller and Goethe, soon +became earnestness and sincerity, and then became +power. For the proof of earnestness is power. +So from power, by eliminating all love, all tenderness, +as being only rose-water philanthropy, he at +last became a worshiper of mere will, of force in +its grossest form. So he illustrates those lines of +Shakespeare in which this process is so well described. +In "Troilus and Cressida" Ulysses is +insisting on the importance of keeping everything +in its place, and giving to the best things and +persons their due priority. Otherwise, mere force +will govern all things.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span></p><div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Strength would be lord of imbecility,"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">as Carlyle indeed openly declares that it ought to +<span class="locked">be,—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"And the rude son should strike his father dead,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">which Carlyle does not quite approve of in the +case of Dr. Francia. But why not, if he maintains +that strength is the measure of justice?</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Between whose endless jar justice resides)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should lose their names and so should justice, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><em>Then everything includes itself in power,</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><em>Power into will, will into appetite;</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><em>And appetite, an universal wolf,</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><em>So doubly seconded with will and power,</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><em>Must make perforce an universal prey,</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><em>And, last, eat up himself.</em>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Just so, in the progress of Carlyle's literary +career, first, force became right,—then, everything +included itself in power,—next, power was +lost in will, and will in mere caprice or appetite. +From his admiration for Goethe, as the type of +intellectual power, he passed to the praise of +Cromwell as the exponent of will, and then to that +of Frederick, whose appetite for plunder and territory +was seconded by an iron will and the highest +power of intellect; but whose ambition devoured +himself, his country, and its prosperity, in the mad +pursuit of victory and conquest.</p> + +<p>The explanation, therefore, of our author's lapse, +is simply this, that he worshiped truth divorced +from love, and so ceased to worship truth, and fell +into the idolatry of mere will. Truth without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> +love is not truth, but hard, willful opinion, just as +love without truth is not love, but weak good-nature +and soft concession.</p> + +<p>Carlyle has no idea of that sublime feature of +Christianity, which shows to us God caring more +for the one sinner who repents than the ninety +and nine just persons which need no repentance. +To him one just person deserves more care than +ninety-nine sinners. Yet it is strange that he did +not learn from his master, Goethe, this essential +trait of the Gospel. For Goethe, in a work translated +by Carlyle himself, distinguishes between +the three religions thus. The ethnic or Gentile +religions, he says, reverence <em>what is above us</em>,—the +religion of the philosopher reverences <em>what is +on our own level</em>,—but Christianity reverences +<em>what is beneath us</em>. "This is the last step," says +Goethe, "which mankind were destined to attain,—to +recognize humility and poverty, mockery +and despite, disgrace and wretchedness, as divine,—nay, +<em>even on sin and crime to look not as hindrances, +but to honor and love them as furtherances +of what is holy</em>."</p> + +<p>On sin and crime, as we have seen, Carlyle +looks with no such tenderness. But if he does not +care for the words of Christ, teaching us that we +must forgive if we hope to be forgiven, if he does +not care for the words of his master, Goethe, he +might at least remember his own exposition of this +doctrine in an early work, where he shows that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> +poor left to perish by disease infect a whole community, +and declares that the safety of all is involved +in the safety of the humblest.</p> + +<p>In 1840, when he wrote "Chartism," Carlyle +seems to have known better than he did in 1855, +when he wrote these "Latter-Day Pamphlets." +<em>Then</em> he <span class="locked">said:—</span></p> + +<p>"To believe practically that the poor and luckless +are here only as a nuisance to be abraded and +abated, and in some permissible manner made +away, and swept out of sight, is not an amiable +faith."</p> + +<p>Of Ireland, too, he <span class="locked">said:—</span></p> + +<p>"We English pay, even now, the bitter smart +of long centuries of injustice to Ireland." "It is +the feeling of <em>injustice</em> that is insupportable to +all men. The brutalest black African feels it, +and cannot bear that he should be used unjustly. +No man can bear it, or ought to bear it."</p> + +<p>This seems like the "rose-water philanthropy" +which he subsequently so much disliked. In this +book also he speaks of a "seven years' Silesian +robber-war,"—we trust not intending to call his +beloved Frederick a robber! And again he proposes, +as one of the best things to be done +in England, to have all the people taught by +government to read and write,—the same thing +which this American democracy, in which he could +see not one good thing, has so long been doing. +That was the plan by which England was to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> +saved,—a plan first suggested in England in +1840,—adopted and acted on in America for two +hundred years.</p> + +<p>But just as love separated from truth becomes +cruelty, so <em>truth</em> by itself—truth <em>not</em> tempered +and fulfilled by love—runs sooner or later into +falsehood. <em>Truth</em>, after a while, becomes dogmatism, +overbearing assertion, willful refusal to see +and hear other than one's own belief; that is to +say, it becomes falsehood. Such has been the case +with our author. On all the subjects to which +he has committed himself he closes his eyes, and +refuses to see the other side. Like his own symbol, +the mighty Bull, he makes his charge <em>with his +eyes shut</em>.</p> + +<p>Determined, for example, to rehabilitate such +men as Mirabeau, Cromwell, Frederick, and Frederick's +father, he does thorough work, and defends +or excuses all their enormities, palliating whenever +he cannot justify.</p> + +<p>What can we call this which he <span class="locked">says<a name="FNanchor_27" id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">27</a></span> concerning +the execution of Lieutenant Katte, by order of old +King Friedrich Wilhelm? Tired of the tyranny +of his father, tired of being kicked and caned, the +young prince tried to escape. He was caught and +held as a deserter from the army, and his father +tried to run him through the body. Lieutenant +Katte, who had aided him in getting away, having +been kicked and caned, was sent to a court-martial<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> +to be tried. The court-martial found him guilty +not of deserting, but of intending to desert, and +sentenced him to two years' imprisonment. Whereupon +the king went into a rage, declared that Katte +had committed high treason, and ordered him to be +executed. Whereupon Carlyle thus <span class="locked">writes:—</span></p> + +<p>"'Never was such a transaction before or since +in modern history,' cries the angry reader; 'cruel, +like the grinding of human hearts under millstones; +like——' Or, indeed, like the doings of the gods, +which are cruel, but not that alone."</p> + +<p>In other words, Carlyle cannot make up his mind +frankly to condemn this atrocious murder, and call +it by its right name. He must needs try to sophisticate +us by talking about "the doings of the +gods." Because Divine Providence takes men out +of the world in various ways, it is therefore allowable +to a king, provided he be a hero grim enough +and "earnest" enough, to kick men, cane them, +and run them through the body when he pleases; +and, after having sent a man to be tried by court-martial, +if the court acquits him, to order him to +be executed by his own despotic will. A truth-telling +Carlyle ought to have said, "I admit this +is murder; but I like the old fellow, and so I will +call it right." A Carlyle grown sophistical mumbles +something about its being like "the doings of +the gods," and leaves off with that small attempt +at humbug. Be brave, my men, and defend my +Lord Jeffreys next for bullying juries into hanging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> +prisoners. Was not Jeffreys "grim" too? In +fact, are not most murderers "grim"?</p> + +<p>We have had occasion formerly, in this journal, +to examine the writings of another very positive +and clear-headed thinker,—Mr. Henry James. +Mr. James is, in his philosophy, the very antithesis +of Carlyle. With equal fervor of thought, with a +like vehemence of style, with a somewhat similar +contempt for his opponents, Mr. James takes exactly +the opposite view of religion and duty. As +Carlyle preaches the law, and the law alone, maintaining +justice as the sole Divine attribute, so Mr. +James preaches the Gospel only, denying totally +that to the Divine Mind any distinction exists between +saint and sinner, unless that the sinner is +somewhat more of a favorite than the saint. We +did not, do not, agree with Mr. James in his anti-nomianism; +as between him and Carlyle, we think +his doctrine far the truer and nobler. He stands +on a higher plane, and sees much the farther. A +course of reading in Mr. James's books might, we +think, help our English cynic not a little.</p> + +<p>God is the perfect harmony of justice and love. +His justice is warmed through and through with +love, his love is sanctified and made strong by justice. +And so, in Christ, perfect justice was fulfilled +in perfect love. But in him first was fully +revealed, in this world, the Divine fatherly tenderness +to the lost, to the sinner, to those lowest down +and farthest away. In him was taught that our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> +own redemption from evil does not lie in despising +and hating men worse than ourselves, but in saving +them. The hard Pharisaic justice of Carlyle +may call this "rose-water philanthropy," but till +he accepts it from his heart, and repents of his contempt +for his fallen fellowmen, till he learns to +love "scoundrels," there is no hope for him. He +lived once in the heaven of reverence, faith, and +love; he has gone from it into the hell of Pharisaic +scorn and contempt. Till he comes back out of +that, there is no hope for him.</p> + +<p>But such a noble nature cannot be thus lost. +He will one day, let us trust, worship the divine +love which he now abhors. Cromwell asked, on +his death-bed, "if those once in a state of grace +could fall," and, being assured not, said, "I am +safe then, for I am sure I was once in a state of +grace." There is a truth in this doctrine of the +perseverance of saints. Some truths once fully +seen, even though afterward rejected by the mind +and will, stick like a barbed arrow in the conscience, +tormenting the soul till they are again +accepted and obeyed. Such a truth Carlyle once +saw, in the great doctrine of reverence for the +fallen and the sinful. He will see it again, if not +in this world, then in some other world.</p> + +<p>The first Carlyle was an enthusiast, the last +Carlyle is a cynic. From enthusiasm to cynicism, +from the spirit of reverence to the spirit of contempt, +the way seems long, but the condition of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> +arriving is simple. Discard <span class="smcap">Love</span>, and the whole +road is passed over. Divorce love from truth, and +truth ceases to be open and receptive,—ceases to +be a positive function, turns into acrid criticism, +bitter disdain, cruel and hollow laughter, empty of +all inward peace. Such is the road which Carlyle +has passed over, from his earnest, hopeful youth to +his bitter old age.</p> + +<p>Carlyle fulfilled for many, during these years, +the noble work of a mediator. By reverence and +love he saw what was divine in nature, in man, +and in life. By the profound sincerity of his +heart, his worship of reality, his hatred of falsehood, +he escaped from the commonplaces of literature +to a better land of insight and knowledge. +So he was enabled to lead many others out of their +entanglements, into his own luminous insight. It +was a great and blessed work. Would that it had +been sufficient for him!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="BUCKLE AND HIS THEORY OF AVERAGES"><a id="BUCKLE">BUCKLE AND HIS THEORY OF AVERAGES</a><a name="FNanchor_28" id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">28</a></h2> + +<p>We welcomed kindly the first installment of Mr. +Buckle's <span class="locked">work,<a name="FNanchor_29" id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">29</a></span> giving a cursory account of it, and +hinting, rather than urging, the objections which +readily suggested themselves against theories concerning +Man, History, Civilization, and Human +Progress. But now it seems a proper time to discuss +with a little more deliberation the themes +opened before us by this intrepid writer,—this +latest champion of that theory of the mind which +in the last century was called Materialism and +Necessity, and which in the present has been re-baptized +as Positivism.</p> + +<p>The doctrines of which Mr. Buckle is the ardent +advocate seem to us, the more thoroughly we consider +them, to be essentially theoretical, superficial, +and narrow. They are destitute of any broad +basis of reality. In their application by Mr. +Buckle, they fail to solve the historic problems +upon which he tries their power. With a show of +science, they are unscientific, being a mere collection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> +of unverified hypotheses. And if Mr. Buckle +should succeed in introducing his principles and +methods into the study of history, it would be +equivalent to putting backward for about a century +this whole department of thought.</p> + +<p>Yet, while we state this as our opinion, and one +which we shall presently endeavor to substantiate +by ample proof, we do not deny to Mr. Buckle's +volumes the interest arising from vigorous and +independent thinking, faithful study of details, +and a strong, believing purpose. They are interesting +and valuable contributions to our literature. +But this is not on account of their purpose, but +in spite of it; notwithstanding their doctrines, not +because of them. The interest of these books, as +of all good history, derives itself from their picturesque +reproduction of life. Whatever of value +belongs to Mr. Buckle's work is the same as that +of the writings of Macaulay, Motley, and Carlyle. +Whoever has the power of plunging like a diver +into the spirit of another period, sympathizing with +its tone, imbuing himself with its instincts, sharing +its loves and hates, its faith and its skepticism, will +write its history so as to interest us. For whoever +will really show to us the breathing essence of any +age, any state of society, or any course of human +events, cannot fail of exciting that element of the +soul which causes man everywhere to rejoice in +meeting with man. He who will write the history +of Arabians, Kelts, or Chinese, of the Middle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> +Ages, the Norman Sea-kings, or the Roman Plebs, +so that we can see ourselves beneath these diverse +surroundings of race, country, and period, and see +that these also are really <span class="smcap smaller">MEN</span>,—this writer instantly +awakens our interest, whether he call himself +poet, novelist, or historian. In all cases, the +secret of success is to write so as to enable the +reader to identify himself with the characters of +another age. Great authors enable us to look +at actions, not from without, but from within. +When we read the historic plays of Shakespeare, +or the historic novels of Scott, we are charmed by +finding that kings and queens are, after all, our +poor human fellow-creatures, sharing all our old, +familiar struggles, pains, and joys. When we read +that great historic masterpiece, the "French Revolution" +of Carlyle, the magic touch of the artist +introduces us into the heart of every character in +the motley, shifting scene. We are the poor king +escaping to Varennes under the dewy night and +solemn stars. We are tumultuous Mirabeau, with +his demonic but generous soul. We are devoted +Charlotte Corday; we are the Gironde; we the +poor prisoners of Terror, waiting in our prison for +the slow morning to bring the inevitable doom. +This is the one indispensable faculty for the historian; +and this faculty Mr. Buckle so far possesses +as to make his page a living one. It is true +that his sympathy is intellectual rather than imaginative. +It is not of the high order of Shakespeare,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> +nor even of that of Carlyle. But, so far as it goes, +it is a true faculty, and makes a true historian.</p> + +<p>Yet we cannot but notice how the effectual +working of this historic organ is interfered with +by the dogmatic purpose of Mr. Buckle; and, on +the other hand, how his theoretic aim is disturbed +by the interest of his narrative. His history is +always meant to be an argument. His narrations +of events are never for their own sake, but always +to prove some thesis. There is, therefore, no consecutive +narrative, no progress of events, no sustained +interest. These volumes are episodes, put +together we cannot well say how, or why. In the +seventh chapter of the first volume we have a +graphic description of the Court life in England in +the days of Charles II., James II., William, and +the Georges, in connection with the condition of +the Church and clergy. From this we are taken, +in the next chapter, to France, and to similar relations +between Henry IV., Louis XIII., Richelieu, +and the French Catholics and Protestants. We +then are brought back to England, to consider the +protective system there; and once more we return +to France, to investigate its operation in that +country. Afterward we have an essay on "The +State of Historical Literature in France from the +End of the Sixteenth to the End of the Eighteenth +Century," followed by another essay on the "Proximate +Causes of the French Revolution." Many +very well finished biographic portraits are given<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> +us in these chapters. There are excellent sketches +of Burke, Voltaire, Richelieu, Bossuet, Montesquieu, +Rousseau, Bichat, in the first volume; and +of Adam Smith, Reid, Black, Leslie, Hutton, +Cullen, Hunter, in the second. These numerous +biographic sketches, which are often accompanied +with good literary notices of the writings of these +authors, are very ably written; but it is curious to +remember, while reading them, that Mr. Buckle +thinks that, as history advances, it has less and +less to do with biography.</p> + +<p>There is an incurable defect in the method of +this work. On the one hand, the dogmatic purpose +is constantly breaking into the interest of the +narration; on the other, the interest of the narration +is continually enticing the writer from his +argument into endless episodes and details of biography. +The argument is deprived of its force by +the story; the story is interrupted continually on +account of the argument. Mr. Buckle has mistaken +the philosophy of history for history itself. +A history of civilization is not a piece of metaphysical +argument, but a consecutive account of the +social progress either of an age or of a nation. +This irreconcilable conflict of purpose, while it +leaves to the parts of the work their value, destroys +its worth as a whole.</p> + +<p>Mr. Buckle might probably inquire whether we +would eliminate wholly from history all philosophic +aim, all teleologic purpose. He objects, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> +very properly, to degrading history into mere annals, +without any instructive purpose. We agree +with him. We do not admire the style of history +which feels neither passion nor sympathy, which +narrates crimes without indignation, and which +has no aim in its narration except to entertain a +passing hour. But it is one thing deliberately to +announce a thesis and bring detached passages of +history to prove it, and another to write a history +which, by its incidents, spirit, and characters shall +convey impulse and instruction. The historian +may dwell upon the events which illustrate his +convictions, and may develop the argument during +the progress of his moving panorama; but the history +itself, as it moves, should impress the lesson. +The history of Mr. Motley, for example, illustrates +and impresses the evils of bigotry, superstition, +and persecution on the life of nations, quite +as powerfully as does that of Mr. Buckle; but +Mr. Motley never suspends his narrative in order +to prove to us logically that persecution is an evil.</p> + +<p>Mr. Buckle, in his style of writing, belongs to a +modern class of authors whom we may call the +bullying school. It is true that he is far less extravagant +than some of them, and indeed is not +deeply tinged with their peculiar manner. The +first great master of this class of writers is Thomas +Carlyle; but their peculiarity has been carried to +its greatest extent by Ruskin. Its characteristic +feature is treating with supreme contempt, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> +though they were hopeless imbeciles, all who venture +to question the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">dicta</i> of the writer. This +superb arrogance makes these writers rather popular +with the English, who, as a nation, like equally +well to bully and to be bullied.</p> + +<p>Buckle professes to have at last found the only +true key to history, and to have discovered some of +its important laws, especially those which regard +the progress of civilization.</p> + +<p>I. <i>His View of Freedom.</i>—Mr. Buckle's fundamental +position is, that the actions of men are +governed by fixed laws, and that, when these laws +are discovered, history will become a science, like +geometry, geology, or astronomy. The chief obstacle +hitherto to its becoming a science has been +the belief that the actions of men were determined, +not by fixed laws, but by free will (which he considers +equivalent to chance), or by supernatural +interference or providence (which he regards as +equivalent to fate). "We shall thus be led," he +says (Vol. I. p. 6, Am. ed.), "to one vast question, +which, indeed, lies at the root of the whole subject, +and is simply this: Are the actions of men, and +therefore of societies, governed by fixed laws, or +are they the result either of chance or of supernatural +interference?" Identifying freedom with +chance, Mr. Buckle denies that there is such a +thing, and maintains that every human action is +determined by some antecedent, inward or outward, +and that not one is determined by the free<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> +choice of the man himself. His principal argument +against free will is the law of averages, which +we will therefore proceed to consider in its bearing +on this point.</p> + +<p>Statistics, carefully collected during many years +and within different countries, show a regularity +of return in certain vices and crimes, which indicates +the presence of law. Thus, about the same +number of murders are committed every year in certain +countries and large cities, and even the instruments +by which they are committed are employed +in the same proportion. Suicide also follows some +regular law. "In a given state of society, a certain +number of persons must put an end to their +own life." In London, about two hundred and +forty persons kill themselves every year,—in +years of panic and disaster a few more, in prosperous +years not quite so many. Other actions of +men are determined in the same way,—not by +personal volition, but by some controlling circumstance. +"It is now known that the number of +marriages in England bears a fixed and definite +relation to the price of corn." "Aberrations of +memory are marked by this general character of +necessary and invariable order." The same average +number of persons forget every year to direct +the letters dropped into the post-offices of London +and Paris. Facts of this kind "force us to the +conclusion," says Buckle, "that the offenses of +men are the result, not so much of the vices of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> +individual offender, as of the state of society into +which he is thrown."</p> + +<p>The argument then is: If man's moral actions +are under law, they are not free, for freedom is +the absence of law. The argument of Mr. Buckle +is conclusive, provided freedom does necessarily +imply the absence of law. But such, we think, is +not the fact.</p> + +<p>The actions of man do not proceed solely from +the impact of external circumstances; for then he +would be no better than a ball struck with a bat. +Nor do they proceed solely from the impulses of +his animal nature; for then he would be only a +superior kind of machine, moved by springs and +wheels. But in addition to external and internal +impulse there is also in man the power of personal +effort, activity, will,—to which we give the name +of Free Choice, or Freedom. This modifies and +determines a part of his actions,—while a second +part come from the influence of circumstance, and +a third from organic instincts and habitual tendencies.</p> + +<p>Now, it is quite certain that no man has freedom +of will enough to cause <em>his whole</em> nexus of activity +to proceed from it. For if a man could cause <em>all</em> +his actions to proceed by a mere choice or effort, +he could turn himself at will into another man. +In other words, there could be no such thing as +permanent moral character. No one could be described; +for while we were describing him, he might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> +choose to be different, and so would become somebody +else. It is evident, therefore, that some part +of every man's life must lie outside of the domain +of freedom.</p> + +<p>In what, then, does the essence of freedom consist? +If it be not the freedom to do whatever we +choose, what is it? Plainly, if we analyze our own +experience, we shall find that it is simply what its +scholastic name implies, freedom of choice, or <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">liber +arbitrio</i>. It is not, in the last analysis, freedom +to act, but it is freedom to choose.</p> + +<p>But freedom to choose what? Can we choose +anything? Certainly not. Our freedom of choice +is limited by our knowledge. We cannot choose +that which we do not know. We must choose something +within the range of our experience. And our +freedom of choice consists in the alternative of making +this choice or omitting to make it,—exerting +ourselves or not exerting ourselves. Consciousness +testifies universally to this extent of freedom. We +know by our consciousness that we can exert ourselves +or not exert ourselves at any moment,—exert +ourselves to act or not exert ourselves to act, +to speak or not to speak. This power of making +or not making an effort is freedom in its simplest +and lowest form.</p> + +<p>In this lowest form, it is apparent that human +freedom is inadequate to give any permanent character +to human actions. They will be directed by +the laws of organization and circumstance. Freedom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> +in this sense may be compared to the power +which a man has of rowing a boat in the midst of +a fog. He may exert himself to row, he may row +at any moment forward or backward, to the right +or to the left. He has this freedom,—but it does +not enable him to go in any special direction. Not +being able to direct his boat to any fixed aim, it is +certain that it will be drifted by the currents or +blown by the winds. Freedom in this form is only +willfulness, because devoid of an inward law.</p> + +<p>But let the will direct itself by a fixed law, and +it at once becomes true freedom, and begins to impress +itself upon actions, modifying the results of +organization and circumstance. Not even in this +case can it destroy those results; it only modifies +them. It enters as a third factor with those other +two to produce the product. The total character +of a man's actions will be represented by a formula, +thus: John's Organization <sub class="large">×</sub> John's Circumstances +<sub class="large">×</sub> John's Freedom = John's Character.</p> + +<p>Apply this to the state of society where the law +of averages has been discovered. In such a society +there are always to be found three classes of persons. +In the first class, freedom is either dormant +or is mere willfulness. The law of mind is subject +therefore in these to the law of the members. +The will is an enslaved will, and its influence on +action is a nullity, not needing to be taken into +the account. From this class come the largest proportion +of the crimes and vices, regular in number<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> +because resulting from constant conditions of society. +Of these persons we can predict with certainty +that, under certain strong temptations to +evil, they will inevitably yield.</p> + +<p>But in another class of persons the will has +learned to direct itself by a moral law toward a +fixed aim. The man in the boat is now steering +by a compass, and ceases to be the sport of current +and gale. The will reacts upon organization, and +directs circumstance. The man has learned how +to master his own nature, and how to arrange external +conditions. We can predict with certainty +that under no possible influences will this class +yield to some forms of evil.</p> + +<p>There is also in each community a third class, +who are struggling, but not emancipated. They +are partly free, but not wholly so. From this class +come the slight variations of the average, now a +little better, now a little worse.</p> + +<p>Applying this view of the freedom of the will to +history, we see that the problem is far more complicated +than Mr. Buckle admits. Man's freedom, +with him, is an element not to be taken into consideration, +because it does not exist. But the truth +is, that human freedom is not only a factor, but a +variable factor, the value of which changes with +every variety of human condition. In the savage +condition it obeys organization and circumstances, +and has little effect on social condition. But as +civilization advances, the power of freedom to react<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> +on organization and circumstance increases, varying +however again, according to the force and inspiration +of the ideas by which it is guided. And +of all these ideas, precisely those which Mr. Buckle +underrates, namely, moral and religious ideas, are +those which most completely emancipate the will +from circumstances, and vitalize it with an all-conquering +force.</p> + +<p>To see this, take two extreme cases,—that of an +African Hottentot, and that of Joan of Arc. Free +will in the African is powerless; he remains the +helpless child of his situation. But the Maid of +Arc, though utterly destitute of Mr. Buckle's "Intellectual +Truths" (being unable to read or write, +and having received no instruction save religious +ideas), and wanting in the "Skepticism" which he +thinks so essential to all historic progress, yet develops +a power of will which reacts upon circumstances +so as to turn into another channel the current +of French history. All bonds of situation +and circumstance are swept asunder by the power +of a will set free by mighty religious convictions. +The element of freedom, therefore, is one not to be +neglected by an historian, except to his own loss.</p> + +<p>The law of averages applies only to undeveloped +men, or to the undeveloped sides of human nature, +where the element of freedom has not come in +play. When the human race shall have made +such progress that it shall contain a city inhabited +by a million persons all equal to the Apostle Paul<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> +and the Apostle John in spiritual development, it +will not be found that a certain regular number +kill their wives every year, or that from two hundred +and thirteen to two hundred and forty annually +commit suicide. Nor will this escape from +the averages be owing to an increased acquaintance +with physical laws so much as to a higher moral +development. We shall return to this point, however, +when we examine more fully Buckle's doctrine +in regard to the small influence of religion +on civilization.</p> + +<p>II. <i>Mr. Buckle's View of Organization.</i>—Mr. +Buckle sets aside entirely the whole great fact of +organization, upon which the science of ethnology +is based. Perhaps the narrowness of his mind +shows more conspicuously in this than elsewhere. +He attributes no influence to race in civilization. +While so many eminent writers at the present day +say, with Mr. Knox, that "Race is everything," +Mr. Buckle quietly rejoins that Race is nothing. +"Original distinctions of race," he says, "are altogether +hypothetical." "We have no decisive +ground for saying that the moral and intellectual +faculties in man are likely to be greater in an infant +born in the most civilized part of Europe, +than in one born in the wildest region of a barbarous +country." (Vol. I. p. 127, Am. ed.) "We +often hear of hereditary talents, hereditary vices, +and hereditary virtues; but whoever will critically +examine the evidence will find that we have no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> +proof of their existence." He doubts the existence +of hereditary insanity, or a hereditary tendency to +suicide, or even to disease. (Vol. I. p. 128, note.) +He does not believe in any progress of natural +capacity in man, but only of opportunity, "that is, +an improvement in the circumstances under which +that capacity after birth comes into play." "Here +then is the gist of the whole matter. The progress +is one, not of internal power, but of external advantage." +He goes on to say, in so many words, +that the only difference between a barbarian child +and a civilized child is in the pressure of surrounding +circumstances. In support of these opinions +he quotes Locke and Turgot.</p> + +<p>It is difficult to understand how an intelligent +and well-informed man, an immense reader and +active thinker, can have lived in the midst of the +nineteenth century and retain these views. For +students at every extreme of thought have equally +recognized the force of organization, the constancy +of race, the permanent varieties existing in the human +family, the steady ruling of the laws of descent. +If there is any one part of the science of anthropology +in which the nineteenth century has reversed +the judgment of the eighteenth,—and that equally +among men of science, poets, materialists, idealists, +anatomists, philologists,—it is just here. To find +so intelligent a man reproducing the last century +in the midst of the present is a little extraordinary.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> +Perhaps there could not be found four great +thinkers more different in their tendencies of +thought and range of study than Goethe, Spurzheim, +Dr. Prichard, and Max Müller; yet these +four, each by his own method of observation, have +shown with conclusive force the law of variety and +of permanence in organization. Goethe asserts +that every individual man carries from his birth to +his grave an unalterable speciality of being,—that +he is, down to the smallest fibre of his character, +one and the same man; and that the whole +mighty power of circumstance, modifying everything, +cannot abolish anything,—that organization +and circumstance hold on together with an +equally permanent influence in every human life. +Gall and Spurzheim teach that every fibre of the +brain has its original quality and force, and that +such qualities and forces are transmitted by obscure +but certain laws of descent. Prichard, with +immense learning, describes race after race, giving +the types of each human family in its physiology. +And, finally, the great science of comparative philology, +worked out by such thinkers and students as +Bopp, Latham, Humboldt, Bunsen, Max Müller, +and a host of others, has proved the permanence +of human varieties by ample glossological evidence. +Thus the modern science of ethnology has arisen, +on the basis of physiology, philology, and ethology, +and is perhaps the chief discovery of the age. +Yet Mr. Buckle quietly ignores the whole of it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> +and continues, with Locke, to regard every human +mind as a piece of white paper, to be written on +by external events,—a piece of soft putty, to be +moulded by circumstances.</p> + +<p>The facts on which the science of ethnology +rests are so numerous and so striking, that the +only difficulty in selecting an illustration is from +the quantity and richness of material. But we +may take two instances,—that of the Teutons and +Kelts, to show the permanence of differences under +the same circumstances, and that of the Jews, the +Arabs, and the Gypsies, to show the continuity of +identity under different circumstances. For if it +can be made evident that different races of men +preserve different characters, though living for +long periods under similar circumstances, and that +the same race preserves the same character, though +living for long periods under different circumstances, +the proof is conclusive that character is +<em>not</em> derived from circumstances only. We shall +not indeed go to the extreme of such ethnologists +as Knox, Nott, or Gliddon, and say that "Race is +everything, and circumstances nothing," but we +shall see that Mr. Buckle is mistaken in saying +that "Circumstances are everything, and race nothing."</p> + +<p>The differences of character between the German +and Keltic varieties of the human race are +marked, but not extreme. They both belong to +the same great Indo-European or Aryan family.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> +They both originated in Asia, and the German +emigration seems to have followed immediately +after that of the Kelts. Yet when described by +Cæsar, Tacitus, and Strabo, they differed from +each other exactly as they differ now. They have +lived for some two thousand years in the same +climate, under similar political and social institutions, +and yet they have preserved their original +diversity.</p> + +<p>According to the description of Cæsar<a name="FNanchor_30" id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">30</a> and +<span class="locked">Tacitus<a name="FNanchor_31" id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">31</a></span> the German tribes differed essentially +from the Gauls or Kelts in the following particulars. +The Germans loved freedom, and were all +free. The Kelts did not care for freedom. The +meanest German was free. But all the inferior +people among the Kelts were virtually slaves. +The Germans had no priests, and did not care for +sacrifices. The Kelts had a powerful priesthood +and imposing religious rites. The Germans were +remarkable for their blue eyes, light hair, and +large limbs. The Kelts were dark-complexioned. +The Gauls were more quick, but less persevering, +than the Germans. Ready to attack, they were +soon discouraged. Tacitus, describing the Germans, +says: "They are a pure, unmixed, and +independent race; there is a family likeness +through the nation, the same form and features, +stern blue eyes, ruddy hair; a strong sense of +honor; reverence for women; religious, but without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> +a ritual; superstitiously believing in supernatural +signs and portents, but not in a priesthood; +not living in cities, but in scattered homes; respecting +marriage; the children brought up in the +dirt, among the cattle; hospitable, frank, and +generous; fond of drinking beer, and eating preparations +of milk."</p> + +<p>The German and Keltic races, thus distinguished +in the days of Cæsar, are equally distinct to-day. +Catholicism, the religion of a priesthood, a ritual, +and authority, prevails among the Kelts; Protestantism +among the Germans. Ireland, being mainly +Keltic, is Catholic, though a part of a Protestant +nation. France, being mainly Keltic, is also +Catholic, in spite of all its illumination, its science, +and its knowledge of "intellectual laws." +But as France contains a large infusion of German +(Frankish) blood, it is the most Protestant of +Catholic nations; while Scotland, containing the +largest infusion of Keltic blood, is the most priest-ridden +of Protestant nations. This last fact, which +Mr. Buckle asserts, and spends half a volume in +trying to account for, is explained at once by +ethnology. Wherever the Germans go to-day, +they remain the same people they were in the days +of Tacitus; they carry the same blue eyes and +light hair, the same love of freedom and hatred +of slavery, the same tendencies to individualism in +thought and life, the same tendency to superstitious +belief in supernatural events, even when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> +without belief in any religion or church; and even +the same love for beer, and "lac concretum," now +called "schmeercase" in our Western settlements. +The Kelt, also, everywhere continues the same. +He loves equality more than freedom. He is a +democrat, but not an abolitionist. Very social, +clannish, with more wit than logic, very sensitive +to praise, brave, but not determined, needing a +leader, he carries the spirit of the Catholic Church +into Protestantism, and the spirit of despotism +into free institutions. And that physical, no less +than mental qualities, continue under all climates +and institutions is illustrated by the blue eyes and +light hair which the traveller meets among the +Genoese and Florentines, reminding him of their +Lombard ancestors; while their superior tendencies +to freedom in church and state suggest the +same origin.</p> + +<p>Nineteen hundred years have passed since Julius +Cæsar pointed out these diversities of character +then existing between the Germans and Kelts. +Since then they have passed from barbarism to +civilization. Instead of living in forests, as hunters +and herdsmen, they have built cities, engaged +in commerce, manufactures, and agriculture. They +have been converted to Christianity, have conquered +the Roman empire, engaged in crusades, +fought in a hundred different wars, developed +literatures, arts, and sciences, changed and changed +again their forms of government, have been organized<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> +by Feudalism, by Despotism, by Democracy, +have gone through the Protestant reformation, +have emigrated to all countries and climates; +and yet, at the end of this long period, the German +everywhere remains a German, and the Kelt +a Kelt. The descriptions of Tacitus and Cæsar +still describe them accurately. And yet Mr. +Buckle undertakes to write a history of civilization +without taking the element of race into account.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, however, the power of this element of +race is illustrated still more strikingly in the case +of the wandering and dispersed families, who, +having ceased to be a nation, continue in their +dispersions to manifest the permanent type of their +original and ineffaceable organization. Wherever +the Jew goes, he remains a Jew. In all +climates, under all governments, speaking all languages, +his physical and mental features continue +the same. This amazing fact has been held by +many theologians to be a standing miracle of +Divine Providence. But Providence works by +law, and through second causes, and uses in this +instance the laws of a specially stubborn organization +and the force of a tenacious and persistent +blood to accomplish its ends. The same kind of +blood in the kindred Semitic family of Arabs produces +a like result, though to a less striking degree. +The Bedouins wander for thousands of miles away +from their peninsula, but always continue Arabs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> +in appearance and character. The light, sinewy +body and brilliant dark eye, the abstemious habit +and roaming tendency, mark the Arab in Hindostan +or Barbary. It is a thousand years since +these nomad tribes left their native home, but +they continue the same people on the Persian Gulf +or amid the deserts of Sahara.</p> + +<p>The case of the Gypsies, however, may be still +more striking, because these seem, in their wanderings +over the earth, to have gradually divested +themselves of every other common attribute except +that of race. Unlike the Jews and Arabs, +they not only adopt the language, but also the +religion, of the country where they happen to be. +Yet they always remain unfused and unassimilated.</p> + +<p>The Gypsies first appeared in Europe in 1417, +in Moldavia, and thence spread into Transylvania +and <span class="locked">Hungary.<a name="FNanchor_32" id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">32</a></span> They afterward passed into all +the countries of Europe, where their number, at +the present time, is supposed to reach 700,000 or +800,000. Everywhere they adopt the common +form of worship, but are without any real faith. +Partially civilized in some countries, they always +retain their own language beside that of the people +among whom they live. This language, being evidently +derived from the Sanskrit, settles the question +of their origin. It is common to all their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span> +branches through the world; as are also the sweet +voice of their maidens, and their habits of horse-dealing, +fortune-telling, and petty larceny. Without +the bond of religion, history, government, +literature, or mutual knowledge and intercourse, +they still remain one and the same people in all +their dispersions. What gives this unity and permanence, +if not race? Yet race, to Mr. Buckle, +means nothing.</p> + +<p>III. <i>Mr. Buckle's Theory concerning Skepticism.</i>—One +of the laws of history which Mr. +Buckle considers himself to have established, if +not discovered, is that a spirit of skepticism precedes +necessarily the progress of knowledge, and +therefore of civilization. By skepticism he means +a doubt of the truth of received opinions. He +asserts that "a spirit of doubt" is the necessary +antecedent to "the love of inquiry." (Vol. I. p. +242, Am. ed.) "Doubt must intervene before +investigation can begin. Here, then, we have the +act of doubting as the originator, or at all events +the necessary antecedent, of all progress."</p> + +<p>If this were so, progress would be impossible. +For the great groundwork of knowledge for each +generation must be laid in the minds of children; +and children learn, not by doubting, but by believing. +Children are actuated at the same time +by an insatiable curiosity and an unquestioning +faith. They ask the reason of everything, and +they accept every reason which is given them. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> +they stopped to question and to doubt, they would +learn very little. But by not doubting at all, +while they are made to believe some errors, they +acquire an immense amount of information. Kind +Mother Nature understands the process of learning +and the principle of progress much better than +Mr. Buckle, and fortunately supplies every new +generation of children with an ardent desire for +knowledge, and a disposition to believe everything +they hear.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, however, Mr. Buckle refers to men +rather than children. He may not insist on children's +stopping to question everything they hear +before they believe. But in men perhaps this +spirit is essential to progress. What great skeptics, +then, have been also great discoverers? Which +was the greatest discoverer, Leibnitz or Bayle, +Sir Isaac Newton or Voltaire? A faith amounting +nearly to credulity is almost essential to discovery,—a +faith which foresees what it cannot +prove, which follows suggestions and hints, and so +traces the faintest impressions left by the flying +footsteps of truth. The attitude of the intellect +in all discovery is not that of doubt, but of faith. +The discoverer always appears to critical and skeptical +men as a visionary.</p> + +<p>"To skepticism," says Mr. Buckle, "we owe the +spirit of inquiry, which, during the last two centuries, +has gradually encroached on every possible +subject, and reformed every department of practical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> +and speculative knowledge." But this is +plainly what logicians call a ὕστερον πρότερον {hysteron proteron}, or +what common people call "putting the cart before +the horse." It is not skepticism which produces +the spirit of inquiry, but the spirit of inquiry +which produces skepticism. It was not a doubt +concerning the Mosaic cosmogony which led to the +study of geology; the study of geology led to the +doubt of the cosmogony. Skepticism concerning +the authority of the Church did not lead to the +discovery of the Copernican system; the discovery +of the Copernican system led to doubts concerning +the authority of the Church which denied it. +People do not begin by doubting, but by seeking. +The love of knowledge leads them to inquire, and +inquiry shows to them new truths. The new +truths, being found to be opposed to received opinions, +cause a doubt concerning those opinions to +arise in the mind. Skepticism, therefore, may +easily follow, but does not precede inquiry.</p> + +<p>Skepticism, being a negative principle, is necessarily +unproductive and barren. To have no +strong belief, no fixed opinion, no vital conviction +for or against anything,—this is surely not a state +of intellect favorable to any great creation or discovery. +Goethe, who was certainly no bigot, says, in +a volume of his posthumous works, that skepticism +is only an inverted superstition, and that this skepticism +is one of the chief evils of the present age. +"It is worse," he adds, "than superstition, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> +superstition is the inheritance of energetic, heroic, +progressive natures; skepticism belongs to weak, +contracted, shrinking men, who venture not out of +themselves." Lord Bacon says ("Advancement of +Learning," Book II.) that doubts have their advantages +in learning, of which he mentions two, but +says that "both these commodities do scarcely +countervail an inconvenience which will intrude +itself, if it be not debarred; which is, that when a +doubt is once received, men labor rather how to +keep it a doubt than how to solve it." It will be +seen, therefore, that Lord Bacon gives to skepticism +scarcely more encouragement than is given it +by Goethe.</p> + +<p>Mr. Buckle says (Vol. I. p. 250) that "Skepticism, +which in physics must always be the beginning +of science, in religion must always be the +beginning of toleration." We have seen that in +physics skepticism is rather the end of science than +its beginning, and the same is true of toleration. +Skepticism does not necessarily produce toleration. +The Roman augurs, who laughed in each other's +faces, were quite ready to assist at the spectacle of +Christians thrown to the lions. Skeptics, not having +any inward conviction as a support, rest on +established opinions, and are angry at seeing them +disturbed. A strong belief is sufficient for itself, +but a half-belief wishes to put down all doubts by +force. This is well expressed by Thomas Burnet +(Epistola 2, De Arch. Phil.): "<span xml:lang="la" lang="la">Non potui non in<span class="pagenum" xml:lang="en" lang="en"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> +illam semper propendere opinionem, Neminem +irasci in veritate defendenda, qui eandem plene +possidet, viditque in claro lumine. Evidens enim, +et indubitata ratio, sibi sufficit et acquiescit: aliisque +a scopo oberrantibus, non tam succenset, quam +miseretur. Sed cum argumentorum adversantium +aculeos sentimus, et quodammodo periclitari causam +nostram, tum demum æstuamus, et effervescimus.</span>"</p> + +<p>The least firm believers have often been the +most violent persecutors. Nero persecuted the +Christians; Marcus Antoninus persecuted them; +but neither Nero nor Antoninus had any religious +reason for this persecution. Antoninus, the best +head of his time, was a sufficient skeptic to suit +Mr. Buckle, as regards all points of the established +religion, but his skepticism did not prevent +him from being a persecutor. Unbelieving Popes, +like Alexander VI. and Leo X., have persecuted. +True toleration is not born of unbelief, as Mr. +Buckle supposes, but of a deeper faith. Religious +liberty has not been given to the world by skeptics, +but by such men as Milton, Baxter, Jeremy Taylor, +and Roger Williams.</p> + +<p>So far from general skepticism being the antecedent +condition of intellectual progress and discovery, +it is a sign of approaching intellectual stagnation +and decay. A great religious movement +usually precedes and prepares the way for a great +mental development. Thus the religious activity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span> +born of Protestantism showed its results in England +in the age of Elizabeth, and in a general outbreak +of intellectual activity over all Europe. On +the other hand, the skepticism of the eighteenth +century was accompanied by comparative stagnation +of thought throughout Christendom.</p> + +<p>IV. <i>Mr. Buckle's View of the small Influence of +Religion on Civilization.</i>—Mr. Buckle thinks it +is erroneous to suppose that religion is one of the +prime movers of human affairs. (Vol. I. p. 183.) +Religion, according to him, has little to do with +human progress. In this opinion, he differs from +nearly all other great historians and philosophical +thinkers. In modern times, Hegel, Niebuhr, Guizot, +Arnold, and Macaulay, among others, have +discussed the part taken by religious ideas in the development +of man, laying the greatest stress on this +element. But Mr. Buckle denies that religion is +one of the prime movers in human affairs. The +Crusades have been thought to have exercised +some influence on European civilization. But religion +was certainly the prime mover of the Crusades. +Mohammedanism exercised some influence on the +development of European life. But Mohammedanism +was an embodiment of religious ideas. +The Protestant Reformation shook every institution, +every nation, every part of social life, in +Christendom, and Europe rocked to its foundations +under the influence of this great movement. But +religion was the prime mover of it all. The English<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> +Revolution turned on religious ideas. The +rise of the Dutch Republic was determined by +them. In one form they colonized South America +and Mexico; in another form, they planted New +England. Such great constructive minds as those +of Alfred and Charlemagne have been benevolently +inspired by rational religion; such dark, destructive +natures as those of Philip II. of Spain, Catharine +de Medicis of France, and Mary Tudor of +England have been malevolently inspired by fanatical +religion.</p> + +<p>On what grounds, then, does Mr. Buckle dispute +the influence of religion? On two grounds +mainly. First, he tells us that moral ideas are +not susceptible of progress, and therefore cannot +have exercised any perceptible influence on the +progress of civilization. For that which does not +change, he argues, cannot influence that which +changes. That which has been known for thousands +of years cannot be the cause of an event +which took place for the first time only yesterday. +"Since civilization is the product of moral and +intellectual agencies," says Mr. Buckle, "and since +that product is constantly changing, it cannot be +regulated by the stationary agent; because when +surrounding circumstances are unchanged, a stationary +agent can produce only a stationary effect." +On this principle, gravitation could not be the +cause of the appearance of Donati's comet in the +neighborhood of the sun. For gravitation is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> +stationary and uniform agent; it cannot therefore +produce an accelerated motion. Mr. Buckle will +answer, that though the law of gravitation is one +and the same in all ages, and uniform in its action, +the result of its action may be different at different +times, according to the position in the universe of +the object acted upon. True; and in like manner +we may say, that, though religious ideas are immutable, +the result of their action on the human mind +may be different, according to the position of that +mind in relation to them. The doctrine of one +God, the Maker and Lord of all things, was not a +new one, or one newly discovered in the seventh +century. Yet when applied by Mohammed to the +Arabian mind, it was like a spark coming in contact +with gunpowder. Those wandering sons of +the desert, unknown before in the affairs of the +world, and a negative quantity in human history, +sprang up a terrible power, capable of overrunning +and conquering half the earth. Religion awakened +them; religion organized them; religion directed +them. The fact that an idea is an old one is no +proof, therefore, that it may not suddenly begin to +act with awful efficiency on civilization and the +destiny of man.</p> + +<p>The other reason given by Mr. Buckle why religious +ideas have little influence in history is, that +the religion of a nation is symptomatic of its mental +and moral state. Men take the religious ideas +which suit them. A religion not suited to a people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> +cannot be accepted by it; or, if accepted, has no +influence on it. This thought, argued at considerable +length by Mr. Buckle, is so perfectly true as +to be a truism. The religion of a people is no +doubt an effect. But may it not also be a cause? +It, no doubt, cannot be received by a people not +prepared for it. But does it therefore exercise no +influence on a people which it finds prepared? +Fire cannot explode an unexplosive material, nor +inflame one not inflammable. But does it follow +that it effects nothing when brought into contact +with one which is inflammable or explosive? A +burning coal laid on a rock or put into the water +produces no effect. But does this prove that the +explosion of gunpowder is in no manner due to the +contact of fire?</p> + +<p>"The religion of mankind," says Mr. Buckle, +"is the effect of their improvement, and not the +cause of it." His proof is that missions and missionaries +among the heathen produce only a superficial +change among barbarous and unenlightened +tribes. Knowledge, he says, must prepare the +way for it. There must, no doubt, be some kind +of preparation for Christianity. But does it follow +that Christianity, when its way is prepared, is +<em>only</em> an effect? Why may it not be also a cause? +Judaism prepared the way for Christianity. But +did not Christianity produce some effect on Judaism? +The Arab mind was prepared for Mohammedanism. +But did not Mohammedanism produce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> +some effect on the Arab mind? Europe was prepared +by various influences for Protestantism. +But did not Protestantism produce some effects on +Europe?</p> + +<p>It might, with equal truth, and perhaps with +greater truth, be asserted that intellectual ideas +are the result of previous training, and that they +are therefore an effect, and by no means a cause. +The intellectual truths accepted by any period depend +certainly on the advanced condition of human +culture. You cannot teach logarithms to Hottentots, +trigonometry to Digger Indians, or the differential +calculus to the Feejee Islanders. Hence, +according to our author's logic, those very intellectual +ideas which he thinks the only great movers +in human affairs are really no movers at all, but +only symptoms of the actual intellectual condition +of a nation.</p> + +<p>But it is a curious fact, that, while Mr. Buckle +considers religious ideas of so little importance in +the history of civilization, he nevertheless devotes +a large part of both his volumes to proving the +great evil done to civilization by erroneous forms +of religious opinion. Nearly the whole of his second +volume is in fact given to showing the harm +done in Spain and Scotland by false systems of +religious thought. Why spend page after page +in showing the evil influence of false religion on +society, if religion, whether true or false, has +scarcely any influence at all? Why search through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> +all the records of religious fanaticism and superstition, +to bring up to the day the ghosts of dead beliefs, +if these beliefs are, after all, powerless either +for good or evil?</p> + +<div class="tb">*<span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span></div> + +<p>The second volume, the recent publication of +which has suggested this second review of Mr. +Buckle's work, contains much of interest and +value, but suffers from the imperfect method of +which we complained at the beginning of this article. +It is chiefly devoted to a description of the +evils resulting from priestcraft in the two countries +of Spain and Scotland. It contains six chapters. +The first is on the History of the Spanish Intellect +from the fifth to the middle of the nineteenth +century. The other five chapters relate to Scotland.</p> + +<p>In the chapter on Spain Buckle attempts to show +how loyalty and superstition began in this nation, +and what has been the result. Of course, according +to his theory, he is obliged to trace their origin +to external circumstances, and he finds the cause +of the superstition in the climate, which produced +drought and famine, and in the earthquakes which +alarmed the people. And here Mr. Buckle, following +the philosophy of Lucretius, confounds religion +and fear, and puts the occasion for the cause. But, +beside earthquakes, the Arian heresy helped to +create this superstition, by identifying the wars +for national independence with those for religion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> +and so giving a great ascendency to the priests. +Hence the Church in Spain early acquired great +power, and, naturally allying itself with the government, +gave rise to the sentiment of loyalty, which +was increased by the Moorish invasion and the +long wars which followed. Loyalty and superstition +thus became so deeply rooted in the Spanish +mind, that they could not be eradicated by the +efforts of the government. Nothing but knowledge +can cure this blind and servile loyalty and +this abject superstition, and while Spain continues +sunk in ignorance it must always remain superstitious +and submissive.</p> + +<p>Some difficulties, however, suggest themselves +in the way of this very simple explanation. If +superstitious loyalty to Church and king comes +from earthquakes, why are not the earthquake +regions of the West Indies and of South America +more loyal, instead of being in a state of chronic +revolution? And how came Scotland to be so +diseased with loyalty and superstition, when she +is so free from earthquakes? And if knowledge +is such a certain cure for superstition, why was not +Spain cured by the flood of light which she, alone +of all European countries, enjoyed in the Middle +Ages? Spain was for a long time the source of +science and art to all Europe, whose Christian +sons resorted to her universities and libraries for +instruction. There was taught to English, French, +and German students the philosophy of Aristotle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> +the Græco-Arabic literature, mathematics, and natural +history. The numerals, gunpowder, paper, +and other inventions of the Arabs, passed into +Europe from Spain. She possessed, therefore, +that knowledge of physical laws which Mr. Buckle +declares to be the only cure for superstition. Yet +she was not cured. The nation which, according +to his theory, ought to have been soonest delivered +from superstition, according to his statements has +retained its yoke longer than any other.</p> + +<p>From Spain Mr. Buckle passes to Scotland, +where he finds a still more complicated problem. +Superstition and loyalty ought to go together, he +thinks,—and usually do; but in Scotland they are +divorced. The Scotch have always been superstitious, +but disloyal. To the explanation of this fact +Mr. Buckle bends his energies of thought, and of +course is able to find a theory to account for it. +This theory we shall not stop to detail; it is too +complex, and at the same time too superficial, to +dwell upon. Its chief point is that the Protestant +noblemen and Protestant clergy quarreled about +the wealth of the Catholic Church, and so there +was in Scotland a complete rupture between the +two classes elsewhere in alliance. Thus "the +clergy, finding themselves despised by the governing +class, united themselves heartily with the people, +and advocated democratic principles." Such +is the explanation given to the course of history in +a great nation. A quarrel between its noblemen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> +and its ministers (who are of course represented as +mercenary self-seekers) determines its permanent +character!</p> + +<p>Mr. Buckle, to whom the love of plunder appears +as the cause of what other men regard as loyalty +or religion, explains by the same fact the loyalty of +the Highlanders to King Charles. They thought +that, if he conquered, he would allow them to plunder +the Lowlanders once more. This is Buckle's +explanation. An ethnologist would have remembered +the fact that the Gaels are pure-blooded +Kelts, and that the Kelts <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">pur sang</i> are everywhere +distinguished for loyalty to their chiefs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Buckle encounters another difficulty in +Scottish history in this, that though a new and +splendid literature arose in Scotland at the beginning +of the eighteenth century, it was unable to +diminish national superstition. It was thoroughly +skeptical, and yet did not produce the appropriate +effect of skepticism. So that at this point one of Mr. +Buckle's four great laws of history seems to break +down. For a moment he appears discouraged, +and laments, with real pathos, the limitations of +the human intellect. But in the next chapter he +addresses himself again to the solution of his two-fold +problem, viz.: "1st, that the same people +should be liberal in their politics and illiberal in +their religion; and, 2d, that their free and skeptical +literature in the eighteenth century should +have been unable to lessen their religious illiberality."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> +In approaching this part of his task, in the fifth +chapter, our author gives a very elaborate and +highly colored picture of the religion of Scotland. +It is <em>too</em> well done. Like some of Macaulay's +descriptions, it is so very striking as to impress us +almost inevitably as a caricature. Every statement +in which the horrors and cruelties of Calvinism +are described is indeed reinforced by ample +citations or plentiful references in the footnotes. +But some of these seem capable of a different +inference from that drawn in the text. For instance, +he charges the Scottish clergy with teaching, +that, though the arrangements originally +made by the Deity to punish his creatures were +ample, "they were insufficient; and hell, not +being big enough to contain the countless victims +incessantly poured into it, had in these latter days +been enlarged. There was now sufficient room." +He supports the charge by this reference to Abernethy,—"Hell +has enlarged itself,"—apparently +not being aware that Abernethy was merely quoting +from Isaiah. He says that to write poetry +was considered by the Scotch clergy to be a grievous +offence, and worthy of special condemnation. +He supports his statement by this reference: "A +mastership in a grammar school was offered in +1767 to John Wilson, the author of 'Clyde'" (a +poet, by the by, not found among the twenty John +Wilsons commemorated by Watt). "But, says +his biographer, the magistrates and ministers of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> +Greenock thought fit, before they would admit +Mr. Wilson to the superintendence of the grammar +school, to stipulate that he should abandon +'the profane and unprofitable art of poem-making.'" +This fact, however, by no means proves +that poetry was considered, theologically, a sin, +for perhaps it was regarded practically as only a +disqualification. It is to be feared that many of +our school committees now—country shopkeepers, +perhaps, or city aldermen—would, apart from +Calvinism, think that a poet must be necessarily a +dreamer and an unpractical man.</p> + +<p>A few exaggerations of this kind there may be. +But, on the whole, the account seems to be correctly +given; and it is one which will do good.</p> + +<p>In the remaining portion of the second volume +Mr. Buckle gives a very vigorous description of +the intellectual progress of the Scotch during the +seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. His account +of Adam Smith as a writer is peculiarly +brilliant. His views of Hume and Reid are ably +drawn. Thence he proceeds to discuss the discoveries +of Black and Leslie in natural philosophy, +of Smith and Hutton in geology, of Cavendish in +chemistry, of Cullen and Hunter in physiology +and pathology. These discussions are interesting, +and show a great range of knowledge and power +of study in the writer. Yet they are episodes, and +have little bearing on the main course of his +thought.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> +We have thus given a cursory survey of these +volumes. We do not think Buckle's philosophy +sound, his method good, or his doctrines tenable. +Yet we cannot but sympathize with one who has +devoted his strength and youth with such untiring +industry to such a great enterprise. And we must +needs be touched with the plaintive confession +which breaks from his wearied mind and exhausted +hope in the last volume, when he accepts the defeat +of his early endeavor, and submits to the +disappointment of his youthful hope. We should +be glad to quote the entire <span class="locked">passage,<a name="FNanchor_33" id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">33</a></span> because it is +the best in the book, and because he expresses in +it, in the most condensed form, his ideas and purposes +as an historic writer. But our limited space +allows us only to commend it to the special attention +of the reader.</p> +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="VOLTAIRE"><a id="VOLTAIRE">VOLTAIRE</a><a name="FNanchor_34" id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">34</a></h2> + +<p>Mr. Parton has given us in these <span class="locked">volumes<a name="FNanchor_35" id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">35</a></span> +another of his interesting and instructive biographies. +Not as interesting, indeed, as some others,—for +example, as his life of Andrew Jackson; +nor as instructive as his lives of Franklin and of +Jefferson. The nature of the case made this impossible. +The story of Jackson had never been +told till Mr. Parton undertook it. It was a history +of frontier life, of strange adventures, of +desperate courage, of a force of character which +conquered all obstacles and achieved extraordinary +results; a story</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Of moving accidents by flood and field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of being taken by the insolent foe."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">No such interest attaches to the "Life of Voltaire." +His most serious adventure was being shut up in +the Bastille for a pasquinade, and being set free +again on his solemn protestation, true or false, +that he never wrote it. It is an old story, told a +thousand times, with all its gloss, if it ever had any,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> +quite worn off. The "Life of Franklin," which, +on the whole, we think the best of Parton's biographies, +was full of interest and instruction of another +kind. It was the life of a builder,—of one +who gave his great powers to construction, to +building up new institutions and new sciences, to +the discovery of knowledge and the creation of +national life. Voltaire was a diffuser of knowledge +already found, but he had not the patience +nor the devotion of a discoverer. His gift was +not to construct good institutions, but to destroy +bad ones,—a work the interest of which is necessarily +ephemeral. No wonder, therefore, that Mr. +Parton, with all his practiced skill as a biographer, +has not been able to give to the story of Voltaire +the thrilling interest which he imparted to that of +Franklin and of Jackson.</p> + +<p>We gladly take the present opportunity to add +our recognition of Mr. Parton's services to those +which have come to him from other quarters. A +writer of unequal merit, and one whose judgment +is often biased by his prejudices, he nevertheless +has done much to show how biography should be +written. Of all forms of human writing there is +none which ought to be at once so instructive and +so interesting as this, but in the large majority of +instances it is the most vapid and empty. The +good biographies, in all languages, are so few that +they can almost be counted on the fingers; but +these are among the most precious books in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> +literature of mankind. The story of Ruth, the +Odyssey of Homer, Plutarch's lives, the Memorabilia +of Xenophon, the life of Agricola, the Confessions +of Augustine, among the ancients; and, in +modern times, Boswell's "Johnson," the autobiographies +of Alfieri, Benvenuto Cellini, Franklin, +Goethe, Voltaire's "Charles XII.," and Southey's +"Life of Wesley" are specimens of what may +be accomplished in this direction. It has been +thought that any man can write a biography, but +it requires genius to understand genius. How +much intelligence is necessary to collect with discrimination +the significant facts of a human life; +to penetrate to the law of which they are the expression; +to give the picturesque proportions to +every part, to arrange the foreground, the middle +distance, and the background of the panorama; to +bring out in proper light and shadow the features +and deeds of the hero! Few biographers take +this trouble. They content themselves with collecting +the letters written by and to their subject; +sweeping together the facts of his life, important +or otherwise; arranging them in some kind of +chronological order; and then having this printed +and bound up in one or two heavy volumes.</p> + +<p>To all this many writers of biography add another +fault, which is almost a fatal one. They +treat their subject <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">de haut en bas</i>, preferring to +look down upon him rather than to look up to +him. They occupy themselves in criticising his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> +faults and pointing out his deficiencies, till they +forget to mention what he has accomplished to +make him worthy of having his life written at all. +We lately saw a life of Pope treated in this style. +One unacquainted with Pope, after reading it, +would say, "If he was such a contemptible fellow, +and his writings so insignificant, why should we +have to read his biography?" Thomas Carlyle +has the great merit of leading the way in the +opposite direction, and of thus initiating a new +style of biography. The old method was for the +writer to regard himself as a judge on the bench, +and the subject of his biography as a prisoner at +the bar. Carlyle, in his "Life of Schiller," showed +himself a loving disciple, sitting at the feet of his +master. We recollect that when this work first +appeared there were only a few copies known to be +in this country. One was in the possession of an +eminent professor in Harvard College, of whom +the present writer borrowed it. On returning it, +he was asked what he thought of it, and replied +that he considered it written with much enthusiasm. +"Yes," responded the professor, "I myself +thought it rather extravagant." Enthusiasm in a +biographer was then considered to be the same as +extravagance. But this hero-worship, which is +the charm in Plutarch, Xenophon, and Boswell, +inspired a like interest in Carlyle's portraits of +Schiller, Goethe, Richter, Burns, and the actors in +the French Revolution. So true is his own warning:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> +"Friend, if you wish me to take an interest +in what you say, be so kind as to take some interest +in it yourself"—a golden maxim, to be +kept in mind by all historians, writers of travels, +biographers, preachers, and teachers. A social +success may sometimes be accomplished by assuming +the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">blasé</i> air of the Roman emperor who said, +"Omnia fui, nihil expedit;" but this tone is +ruinous for one who wishes the ear of the public.</p> + +<p>Since the days of Carlyle, others have written +in the same spirit, allowing themselves to take +more or less interest in the man whose life they +were relating. So Macaulay, in his sketches of +Clive, Hastings, Chatham, Pym, and Hampden; +so Lewes, in his "Life of Goethe;" and so Parton, +in his various biographies.</p> + +<p>In some respects Mr. Parton's biography reminds +us of Macaulay's History. Both have been +credited with the same qualities, both charged +with the same defects. Both are indefatigable in +collecting material from all quarters,—from other +histories and biographies, memoirs, letters, newspapers, +broadsides, and personal communications +gathered in many out-of-the-way localities. Both +have the power of discarding insignificant details +and retaining what is suggestive and picturesque. +Both, therefore, have the same supreme merit of +being interesting. Both have strong prejudices, +take sides earnestly, forget that they are narrators, +and begin to plead as attorneys and advocates.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> +Both have been accused, rightly or wrongly, of +grave inaccuracies. But their defects will not prevent +them from holding their place as teachers of +the English-speaking public. English and American +readers will long continue to think of Marlborough +as Macaulay represents him; of Jackson +and Jefferson as Parton describes them. Such +Rembrandt-like portraits fix the attention by their +strange chiaro-oscuro. They may not be like nature, +but they take the place of nature. The most +remarkable instance of this kind is the representation +of Tiberius by Tacitus, which has caused +mankind, until very recently, to consider Tiberius +a monster of licentiousness and cruelty, in spite of +the almost self-evident absurdity and self-contradiction +of this <span class="locked">assumption.<a name="FNanchor_36" id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">36</a></span> Limners with such a +terrible power of portraiture should be very careful +how they use it, and not abuse the faculty in +the interest of their prejudices.</p> + +<p>If Mr. Parton resembles Macaulay in some respects, +in one point, at least, he is like Carlyle: +that is, that his last hero is the least interesting. +From Schiller and Goethe to Frederic the Great +was a fall; and so from Franklin to Voltaire. +Carlyle tells us what a weary task he had with his +Prussian king, and we think that Mr. Parton's +labors over the patriarch of the eighteenth-century<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> +literature must have been equally distressing. At +a distance, Voltaire is a striking phenomenon: the +most brilliant wit of almost any period; the most +prolific writer; a successful dramatist, historian, +biographer, story-teller, controversialist, lyrical +poet, student of science. "Truly, a universal +genius, a mighty power!" we say. But look +more closely, and this genius turns into talent; +this encyclopædic knowledge becomes only superficial +half knowledge; this royalty is a sham royalty; +it does not lead the world, but follows it. +The work into which Voltaire put his heart was +destruction—the destruction of falsehoods, bigotries, +cruelties, and shams. It was an important +duty, and some one had to do it. But it was +temporary, and one of which the interest is soon +over. If Luther and the other reformers had +aimed at only destroying the Church of Rome, +their influence would have speedily ceased. But +they rebuilt, as they destroyed; the sword in one +hand, and the trowel in the other. They destroyed +in order to build; they took away the outgrown +house, to put another in its place. Voltaire did +not go so far as that; he wanted no new church +in the place of the old one.</p> + +<p>Voltaire and Rousseau are often spoken of as +though they were fellow-workers, and are associated +in many minds as sharing the same convictions. +Nothing can be more untrue. They were +radically opposite in the very structure of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> +minds, and their followers and admirers are +equally different. If all men can be divided into +Platonists and Aristotelians, they may be in like +manner classified as those who prefer Voltaire to +Rousseau, and <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">vice versa</i>. Both were indeed theists, +and both opposed to the popular religion of +their time. Both were brilliant writers, masters +of the French language, listened to by the people, +and with a vast popularity. Both were more or +less persecuted for their religious heresies. So far +they resemble each other. But these are only +external resemblances; radically and inwardly +they were polar opposites. What attracted one +repelled the other. Voltaire was a man of the +world, fond of society and social pleasures; the +child of his time, popular, a universal favorite. +Rousseau shrank from society, hated its fashions, +did not enjoy its pleasures, and belonged to another +epoch than the eighteenth century. Rousseau +believed in human nature, and thought that +if we could return to our natural condition the +miseries of life would cease. Voltaire despised +human nature; he forever repeated that the majority +of men were knaves and fools. Rousseau +distrusted education and culture as they are commonly +understood; but to Voltaire's mind they +were the only matters of any value,—all that +made life worth living. Rousseau was more like +Pascal than like Voltaire; far below Pascal, no +doubt, in fixed moral principles and ascetic virtue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> +Yet he resembled him in his devotion to ideas, his +enthusiasm for some better day to come. Both +were out of place in their own time; both were +prophets crying in the wilderness. Put Voltaire +between Pascal and Rousseau, and it would be +something like the tableau of Goethe between +Basedow and Lavater.</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem" xml:lang="de" lang="de"> +<span class="i0q">"Prophete rechts, Propliete links,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Das Weltkind in der Mitte."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">The difference between Voltaire and Rousseau was +really that between a man of talent and a man of +genius. Voltaire, brilliant, adroit, full of resource, +quick as a flash, versatile, with immense powers of +working, with a life full of literary successes, has +not left behind him a single masterpiece. He +comes in everywhere second best. As a tragedian +he is inferior to Racine; as a wit and comic writer +far below Molière; and he is quite surpassed as a +historian and biographer by many modern French +authors. No germinating ideas are to be found in +his writings, no seed corn for future harvests. He +thought himself a philosopher, and was so regarded +by others; but neither had his philosophy +any roots to it. A sufficient proof of this is the +fact that he shared the superficial optimism of the +English deists, as expressed by Bolingbroke and +Pope, until the Lisbon earthquake, by destroying +thirty thousand people, changed his whole mental +attitude. Till then he could say with Pope, +"Whatever is, is right." After that, most things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> +which are, appeared to him fatally and hopelessly +wrong. That thirty thousand persons should perish +in a few minutes, in great suffering, he thought +inconsistent with the goodness of God. But take +the whole world over, thirty thousand people are +continually perishing, in the course of a few hours +or days. What difference does it make, in a +philosophical point of view, if they die all at once +in a particular place, or at longer intervals in +many places? Voltaire asks, "What crime had +those infants committed who lie crushed on their +mother's breasts?" What crime, we reply, have +the infants committed who have been dying by +millions, in suffering, since the world began? +"Was Lisbon," he asks, "more wicked than +Paris?" But had Voltaire never noticed before +that wicked people often live on in health and +pleasure, while the good suffer and die? Voltaire +did not see, what it requires very little philosophy +to discover, that a Lisbon earthquake really presents +no more difficulty to the reason than the +suffering and death of a single child.</p> + +<p>Another fact which shows the shallow nature of +Voltaire's way of thinking is his expectation of +destroying Christianity by a combined attack upon +it of all the wits and philosophers. Mr. Parton +tells us that "l'Infâme," which Voltaire expected +to crush, "was not religion, nor the Christian +religion, nor the Roman Catholic Church. It was," +he says, "<em>religion claiming supernatural authority,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> +and enforcing that claim by pains and penalties</em>." +No doubt it was the spirit of intolerance +and persecution which excited his indignation. +But the object of that indignation was not the +abstraction which Mr. Parton presents to us. It +was something far more concrete. There is no +doubt that Voltaire confounded Christianity with +the churches about him, and these with their +abuses; and thus his object was to sweep away all +positive religious institutions, and to leave in their +place a philosophic deism. Else what meaning in +his famous boast that "it required twelve men to +found a belief, which it would need only one man +to destroy"? What meaning, otherwise, in his +astonishment that Locke, "having in one book so +profoundly traced the development of the understanding, +could so degrade his own understanding +in another"?—referring, as Mr. Morley believes, +to Locke's "Reasonableness of Christianity." Voltaire +saw around him Christianity represented by +cruel bigots, ecclesiastics living in indolent luxury, +narrow-minded and hard-hearted priests. That +was all the Christianity he saw with his sharp perceptive +faculty; and he had no power of penetrating +into the deeper life of the soul which these +corruptions misrepresented. We do not blame +him for this; he was made so; but it was a fatal +defect in a reformer. The first work of a reformer +is to discover the truth and the good latent +amid the abuses he wishes to reform, and for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> +sake of which men endure the evil. A Buddhist +proverb says, "The human mind is like a leech: +it never lets go with its tail till it has taken hold +somewhere else with its head." Distinguish the +good in a system from the evil; show how the +good can be preserved, though the evil is abandoned, +and then you may hope to effect a truly +radical reform. Radicalism means going to the +roots of anything. Voltaire was incapable of becoming +a radical reformer of the Christian Church, +because he had in himself no faculty by which he +could appreciate the central forces of Christianity. +Mr. Morley says that Voltaire "has said no word, +nor even shown an indirect appreciation of any +word said by another, which stirs and expands +that indefinite exaltation known as the love of +God," "or of the larger word holiness." "Through +the affronts which his reason received from certain +pretensions, both in the writers and in some of +those whose actions they commemorated, this sublime +trait in the Bible, in both portions of it, was +unhappily lost to Voltaire. He had no ear for the +finer vibrations of the spiritual voice." And so +also speaks Carlyle: "It is a much more serious +ground of offense that he intermeddled in religion +without being himself, in any measure, religious; +that he entered the temple and continued there +with a levity which, in any temple where men +worship, can beseem no brother man; that, in a +word, he ardently, and with long-continued effort,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> +warred against Christianity, without understanding +beyond the mere superficies of what Christianity +was." In fact, in the organization of Voltaire, +the organ of reverence, "the crown of the whole +moral nature," seems to have been at its minimum. +A sense of justice there was; an ardent sympathy +with the oppressed, a generous hatred of the oppressor, +a ready devotion of time, thought, wealth, +to the relief of the down-trodden victim. Therefore, +with such qualities, Voltaire, by the additional +help of his indefatigable energy, often succeeded +in plucking the prey from the jaws of the +lion. He was able to defeat the combined powers +of Church and State in his advocacy of some individual +sufferer, in his battle against some single +wrong. But his long war against the Catholic +Church in France left it just where it was when +that war began. Its power to-day in France is +greater than it was then, because it is a purer and +better institution than it was then. That Sphinx +still sits by the roadside propounding its riddle. +Voltaire was not the Œdipus who could solve it, +and so the life of that mystery remains untouched +until now.</p> + +<p>The Henriade has often been considered the +great epic poem of France. This merely means +that France has never produced a great epic poem. +The Henriade is artificial, prosaic, and has no +particle of the glow, the fire, the prolonged enthusiasm, +which alone can give an epic poem to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> +mankind. In this sentence all competent critics +are agreed.</p> + +<p>Voltaire was busy with literature during his +whole life. He not only wrote continually himself, +but he was a critic of the writings of others. +His mind was essentially critical,—formed to +analyze, discriminate sharply, compare, and judge +by some universal standard of taste. Here, if +anywhere, he ought to be at his best; here, if in +any department, he should stand at the head of +the world's board of literary censors. But here, +again, he is not even second-rate; here, more than +elsewhere, he shows how superficial are his judgments. +He tests every writer by the French +standard in the eighteenth century. Every word +which Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, have said of +other writers is full of value and interest to-day. +But who would go to Voltaire for light on any +book or author? We have an instinctive but certain +conviction that all his views are limited by +his immediate environment, perverted by his personal +prejudices. Thus, he prefers Ariosto to the +Odyssey, and Tasso's Jerusalem to the <span class="locked">Iliad.<a name="FNanchor_37" id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">37</a></span> +His inability to comprehend the greatness of +Shakespeare is well known. He is filled with +indignation because a French critic had called +Shakespeare "the god of the stage." "The blood +boils in my old veins," says he; "and what is +frightful to think of, it was I myself who first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> +showed to Frenchmen the few pearls to be found +in the <span class="locked">dunghill."<a name="FNanchor_38" id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">38</a></span> Chesterfield's Letters to his +Son he considers "the best book upon education +ever <span class="locked">written."<a name="FNanchor_39" id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">39</a></span> This is the book in which a +father teaches his son the art of polite falsehood, +of which Dr. Johnson says that "it shows how +grace can be united with wickedness,"—the book +whose author is called by De Vere the philosopher +of flattery and dissimulation. He admitted that +there were some good things in Milton, but speaks +of his conceptions as "odd and <span class="locked">extravagant."<a name="FNanchor_40" id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">40</a></span> +He thought Condorcet much superior to Pascal. +The verses of Helvetius he believed better than +any but those of Racine. The era was what Villemain +calls "the golden age of mediocre writers;" +and Voltaire habitually praised them all. But +these writers mostly belonged to a mutual admiration +society. The anatomist Tissot, in one of his +physiological works, says that the genius of Diderot +came to show to mankind how every variety of +talent could be brought to perfection in one man. +Diderot, in his turn, went into frantic delight over +the novels of Richardson. "Since I have read +these works," he says, "I make them my touchstone; +those who do not admire them are self-condemned. +O my friends, what majestic dramas +are these three, Clarissa, Sir Charles Grandison, +and Pamela!" Such was the eighteenth century; +and Voltaire belonged to it with all the intensity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> +of his ardent nature. He may be said never to +have seen or foreseen anything better. Living on +the very verge of a great social revolution, he does +not appear to have suspected what its nature +would be, even if he suspected its approach. The +cruelties of the Church exasperated him, but the +political condition of society, the misery of the +peasants, the luxury of the nobles, the despotism +of the king, left him unmoved. He was singularly +deficient in any conception of the value of political +liberty or of free institutions. If he had lived to +see the coming of the Revolution, it would have +utterly astounded him. His sympathies were with +an enlightened aristocracy, not with the people. +In this, too, he was the man of his time, and belonged +to the middle of his century, not the end of +it. He saw and lamented the evils of bad government. +He pointed out the miseries produced by +war. He abhorred and denounced the military +spirit. He called on the clergy, in the name of +their religion, to join him in his righteous appeals +against this great curse of mankind. "Where," +he asks, "in the five or six thousand sermons of +Massillon, are there two in which anything is said +against the scourge of war?" He rebukes the +philosophers and moralists, also, for their delinquency +in this matter, and replies forcibly to Montesquieu's +argument that self-defense sometimes +makes it necessary to begin the attack on a neighboring +nation. But he does not go back to trace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> +the evil to its root in the absence of self-government. +In a letter to the King of Prussia he says, +"When I asked you to become the deliverer of +Greece, I did not mean to have you restore the +democracy. I do not love the rule of the rabble" +(<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">gouvernement de la canaille</i>). Again, writing to +the same, in January, 1757, he says, "Your majesty +will confer a great benefit by destroying this +infamous superstition [Christianity]; I do not say +among the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">canaille</i>, who do not deserve to be enlightened, +and who ought to be kept down under +all yokes, but among honest people, people who +think. Give white bread to the children, but only +black bread to the dogs." In 1762, writing to the +Marquis d'Argens, he says, "The Turks say that +their Koran has sometimes the face of an angel, +sometimes the face of a beast. This description +suits our time. There are a few philosophers,—they +have the face of an angel; all else much +resembles that of a beast." Again, he says to +Helvetius, "Consider no man your neighbor but +the man who thinks; look on all other men as +wolves, foxes, and deer." "We shall soon see," +he writes to D'Alembert, "new heavens and a +new earth,—I mean for honest people; for as to +the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">canaille</i>, the stupidest heaven and earth is all +they are fit for." The real government of nations, +according to him, should be administered by absolute +kings, in the interest of freethinkers.</p> + +<p>It is true that after Rousseau had published his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> +trumpet-call in behalf of democratic rights, Voltaire +began to waver. It has been remarked that +"at the very time when he expressed an increasing +ill-will against the person of the author of 'Emile,' +he was irresistibly attracted to the principal doctrines +of Rousseau. He entered, as if in spite of +himself, into paths toward which his feet were +never before directed. As if to revenge himself +for coming under this salutary influence, he pursued +Rousseau with blind <span class="locked">anger."<a name="FNanchor_41" id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">41</a></span> He harshly +attacked the Social Contract, but accepted the +sovereignty of the people; saying that "civil government +is the will of all, executed by a single +one, or by several, in virtue of the laws which all +have enacted." He, however, speedily restricted +this democratic principle by confining the right of +making laws to the owners of real estate. He declares +that those who have neither house nor land +ought not to have any voice in the matter. He +now began (in 1764) to look forward to the end +of monarchies, and to expect a revolution. Nevertheless, +he plainly declares, "The pretended +equality of man is a pernicious chimera. If there +were not thirty laborers to one master, the earth +would not be cultivated." But in practical and +humane reforms Voltaire took the lead, and did +good work. He opposed examination by torture, +the punishment of death for theft, the confiscation +of the property of the condemned, the penalties<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> +against heretics; secret trials; praised trial by +jury, civil marriage, right of divorce, and reforms +in the direction of hygiene and education.</p> + +<p>And, above all, whatever fault may be found +with Voltaire, let us never cease to appreciate his +generous efforts in behalf of the unfortunate victims +of the atrocious bigotry which then prevailed +in France. It is not necessary to dwell here on +the cases of Calas, the Sirvens, La Barre, and the +Count de Lally. They are fully told by Mr. Parton, +and to his account we refer our readers. In +1762 the Protestant pastor Rochette was hanged, +by order of the Parliament of Toulouse, for having +exercised his ministry in Languedoc. At the same +time three young gentlemen, Protestants, were beheaded, +for having taken arms to defend themselves +from being slaughtered by the Catholics. +In 1762, the Protestant merchant Calas, an aged +and worthy citizen of Toulouse, was tortured and +broken on the wheel, on a wholly unsupported +charge of having killed his son to keep him from +turning Catholic. A Protestant girl named Sirven +was, about the same time, taken from her parents, +and shut up in a convent, to compel her to change +her religion. She escaped, and perished by accident +during her flight. The parents were accused +of having killed her to keep her from becoming a +Catholic. They escaped, but the wife died of exposure +and want. In 1766 a crucifix was injured +by some wanton persons. The Bishop of Amiens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> +called out for vengeance. Two young officers, +eighteen years old, were accused. One escaped; +the other, La Barre, was condemned to have his +tongue cut out, his right hand cut off, and to be +burned alive. The sentence was commuted to death +by decapitation. Voltaire, seventy years old, devoted +himself with masterly ability and untiring +energy to save these victims; and when he failed +in that, to show the falsehood of the charges, and +to obtain a revision of the judgments. He used +all means: personal appeals to men in power and +to female favorites, eloquence, wit, pathos in every +form of writing. He called on all his friends to +aid him. He poured a flood of light into these +dark places of iniquity. His generous labors were +crowned with success. He procured a reversal of +these iniquitous decisions; in some cases a restoration +of the confiscated property, and a public +recognition of the innocence of those condemned. +Without knowing it, he was acting as a disciple +of Jesus. Perhaps he may have met in the other +world with the great leader of humanity, whom he +never understood below, and been surprised to hear +him say, "Inasmuch as thou hast done it to the +least of my little ones, thou hast done it unto me."</p> + +<p>Carlyle tells us that the chief quality of Voltaire +was <em>adroitness</em>. He denies that he was really a +great man, and says that in one essential mark +of greatness he was wholly wanting, that is, earnestness. +He adds that Voltaire was by birth a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> +mocker; that this was the irresistible bias of his +disposition; that the first question with him was +always not what is true but what is false, not what +is to be loved but what is to be contemned. He +was shallow without heroism, full of pettiness, full +of vanity; "not a great man, but only a great <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">persifleur</i>."</p> + +<p>But certainly some other qualities than these +were essential to produce the immense influence +which he exerted in his own time, and since. Beside +the extreme adroitness of which Carlyle speaks, +he had as exhaustless an energy as was ever granted +to any of the sons of men. He was never happy +except when he was at work. He worked at home, +he worked when visiting, he worked in his carriage, +he worked at hotels. Amid annoyances and disturbances +which would have paralyzed the thought +and pen of others, Voltaire labored on. Upon his +sick bed, in extreme debility and in old age, that +untiring pen was ever in motion, and whatever +came from it interested all mankind. Besides the +innumerable books, tracts, and treatises which fill +the volumes of his collected works, there are said +to be in existence fourteen thousand of his letters, +half of which have never been printed. But this +was only a part of the outcome of his terrible vitality. +He was also an enterprising and energetic +man of business. He speculated in the funds, lent +money on interest, fitted out ships, bought and sold +real estate, solicited and obtained pensions. In this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span> +way he changed his patrimony of about two hundred +thousand francs to an annual income of the +same amount,—equal to at least one hundred +thousand dollars a year at the present time. He +was determined to be rich, and he became so; not +because he loved money for itself, nor because he +was covetous. He gave money freely; he used it +in large ways. He sought wealth as a means of +self-defense,—to protect himself against the persecution +which his attacks on the Church might bring +upon him. He also had, like a great writer of the +present century, Walter Scott, the desire of being +a large landed proprietor and lord of a manor; +and, like Scott, he became one, reigning at Ferney +as Scott ruled at Abbotsford.</p> + +<p>In defending himself against his persecutors he +used other means not so legitimate. One of his +methods was systematic falsehood. He first concealed, +and then denied, the authorship of any +works which would expose him to danger. He took +the tone of injured innocence. For example, he +had worked with delight, during twenty years, on +his wretched "Pucelle." To write new lines in it, +or a new canto, was his refreshment; to read them +to his friends gave him the most intense satisfaction. +But when the poem found its way into print, +with what an outcry he denies the authorship, almost +before he is charged with it. He assumes +the air of calumniated virtue. The charge, he declares, +is one of the infamous inventions of his enemies.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> +He writes to the "Journal Encyclopédique," +"The crowning point of their devilish manœuvres +is the edition of a poem called 'La Pucelle d'Orléans.' +The editor has the face to attribute this +work to the author of the 'Henriade,' the 'Zaïre,' +the 'Mérope,' the 'Alzire,' the 'Siècle de Louis +XIV.' He dares to ascribe to this author the flattest, +meanest, and most gross work which can come +from the press. My pen refuses to copy the tissue +of silly and abominable obscenities of this work +of darkness." When the "Dictionnaire Philosophique" +began to appear, he wrote to D'Alembert, +"As soon as any danger arises, I beg you will let +me know, that I may disavow the work in all the +public papers with my usual candor and innocence." +Mr. Parton tells us that he had <em>a hundred and +eight</em> pseudonyms. He signed his pamphlets A +Benedictine, The Archbishop of Canterbury, A +Quaker, Rev. Josias Roussette, the Abbé Lilladet, +the Abbé Bigorre, the Pastor Bourn. He was also +ready to tell a downright lie when it suited his convenience.</p> + +<p>When "Candide" was printed, in 1758, he +wrote, as Mr. Parton tells us, to a friendly pastor +in Geneva, "I have at length read 'Candide.' +People must have lost their senses to attribute to +me that pack of nonsense. I have, thank God, +better occupation. This optimism [of Pangloss] +obviously destroys the foundation of our holy religion." +Our holy religion!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> +An excuse may be found for these falsehoods. +A writer, it may be said, has a right to his incognito; +if so, he has a right to protect it by denying +the authorship of a book when charged with it. +This is doubtful morality, but Voltaire went far +beyond this. He volunteered his denials. He asserted +in every way, with the most solemn asseverations, +that he was not the author of a book which +he had written with delight. But this was not the +worst. He not only told these author's lies, but +he was a deliberate hypocrite, professing faith in +Christianity, receiving its sacraments, asking spiritual +help from the Pope, and begging for relics +from the Vatican, at the very time that he was +hoping by strenuous efforts to destroy both Catholicism +and Christianity.</p> + +<p>When he was endeavoring to be admitted to a +place in the French Academy, he wrote thus to the +Bishop of <span class="locked">Mirepoix:<a name="FNanchor_42" id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">42</a></span> "Thanks to Heaven, my religion +teaches me to know how to suffer. The +God who founded it, as soon as he deigned to become +man, was of all men the most persecuted. +After such an example, it is almost a crime to +complain.... I can say, before God who hears +me, that I am a good citizen and a true Catholic.... +I have written many pages sanctified by religion." +In this Mr. Parton admits that he went +too far.</p> + +<p>When at Colmar, as a measure of self-protection,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> +he resolved to commune at Easter. Mr. Parton +says that Voltaire had pensions and rents to +the amount of sixty thousand livres annually, of +which the king could deprive him by a stroke +of the pen. So he determined to prove himself +a good Catholic by taking the sacraments. As a +necessary preliminary, he confessed to a Capuchin +monk. He wrote to D'Argens just before, "If I +had a hundred thousand men, I know what I +should do; but as I have them not, I shall commune +at Easter!" But, writing to Rousseau, he +thinks it shameful in Galileo to retract his opinions. +Mr. Parton too, who is disposed to excuse +some of these hypocrisies in Voltaire, is scandalized +because the pastors of Geneva denied the +charges of heresy brought against them by Voltaire; +saying that "we live, as they lived, in an +atmosphere of insincerity." In the midst of all +this, Voltaire took credit to himself for his frank +avowals of the truth: "I am not wrong to dare to +utter what worthy men think. For forty years I +have braved the base empire of the despots of the +mind." Mr. Parton elsewhere seems to think it +would have been impossible for Voltaire to versify +the Psalms; as it was "asked him to give the lie +publicly to his whole career." But if communing +at Easter did not do this, how could a versification +of a few psalms accomplish it? Parton quotes +Condorcet as saying that Voltaire could not become +a hypocrite, even to be a cardinal. Could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> +any one do a more hypocritical action than to partake +the sacraments of a Church which he despised +in order to escape the danger of persecution?</p> + +<p>When building his house at Ferney, the neighboring +Catholic curés interfered with him. They +prohibited the laborers from working for him. To +meet this difficulty he determined to obtain the +protection of the Pope himself. So he wrote to +the Pope, asking for a relic to put in the church +he had built, and received in return a piece of the +hair-shirt of St. Francis. He went to mass frequently. +Meantime, in his letters to his brother +freethinkers, he added his usual postscript, "Ecrasez +l'Infâme;" begging their aid in crushing +Catholicism and Christianity. Yet it does not +seem that he considered himself a hypocrite in +thus conforming outwardly to a religion which he +hated. He thinks that others who do so are hypocrites, +but not that he is one. In 1764 he writes +to Madame du Deffand, "The worst is that we +are surrounded by hypocrites, who worry us to +make us think what they themselves do not think +at all." So singular are the self-deceptions of the +human mind. He writes to Frederic ridiculing +the sacrament of extreme unction, and then solemnly +partakes of the eucharist. Certainly he +did not belong to the noble army of martyrs. He +expected to overturn a great religious system, not +by the power of faith, but by ingenious pamphlets, +brilliant sarcasms, adroit deceptions. In thus +thinking he was eminently superficial.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> +His theory on this subject is given in an article +in the "Dictionnaire Philosophique," quoted by +Mr. Parton: "Distinguish honest people who think, +from the populace who were not made to think. +If usage obliges you to perform a ridiculous ceremony +for the sake of the canaille, and on the road +you meet some people of understanding, notify +them by a sign of the head, or a look, that you +think as they do.... If imbeciles still wish to +eat acorns, let them have acorns."</p> + +<p>Mr. Parton describes in full (vol. ii. p. 410) +the ceremony of the eucharist of which Voltaire +partook in his own church at Ferney. It was +Easter Sunday, and Voltaire mounted the pulpit +and preached a sermon against theft. Hearing of +this, the bishop was scandalized, and forbade all +the curates of the diocese from confessing, absolving, +or giving the sacrament to Voltaire. Upon +this Voltaire writes and signs a formal demand on +the curate of Ferney to allow him to confess and +commune in the Catholic Church, in which he was +born, has lived, and wishes to die; offering to +make all necessary declarations, all requisite protestations, +in public or private, submitting himself +absolutely to all the rules of the Church, for the +edification of Catholics and Protestants. All this +was a mere piece of mystification and fun. He +pretended to be too sick to go to the church, and +made a Capuchin come and administer the eucharist +to him in bed; Voltaire saying, "Having my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> +God in my mouth, I declare that I forgive all my +enemies." No wonder that with all his marvelous +ability and his long war upon the Catholic Church +he was unable to make any lasting impression upon +it. Talent is not enough to make revolutions of +opinion. No serious faith was ever destroyed by +a jest.</p> + +<p>If we return to Rousseau, and compare his influence +with that of Voltaire, we shall find that it +went far deeper. Voltaire was a man of immense +talent. Talent originates nothing, but formulates +into masterly expression what has come to it from +the age in which it lives. Not a new idea can be +found, we believe, in all Voltaire's innumerable +writings. But genius has a vision of ideal truth. +It is a prophet of the future. Rousseau, with his +many faults, weaknesses, follies, was a man of genius. +He was probably the most eloquent writer of +French prose who has ever appeared. He was a +man possessed by his ideas. He had none of the +adroitness, wit, ingenuity, of Voltaire. Instead +of amassing an enormous fortune, he supported +himself by copying music. Instead of being surrounded +by admirers and flatterers, he led a solitary +life, alone with his ideas. Instead of denying +the authorship of his works, and so giving an +excuse to the authorities to leave him quiet, he put +his name to his writings. He worked for his +bread with his hands, and in his "Emile" he recommended +that all boys should be taught some manual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span> +craft. Voltaire ridiculed the <em>gentleman carpenter</em> +of Rousseau; but before that generation +passed away, many a French nobleman had reason +to lament that he had not been taught to use +the saw and the plane.</p> + +<p>If Voltaire belonged to the eighteenth century, +and brought to a brilliant focus its scattered +rays, Rousseau belonged more to the nineteenth. +Amidst the <em>persiflage</em>, the mockery, the light and +easy philosophy, of his day, he stood, "among +them, but not of them, in a crowd of thoughts +which were not their thoughts." This is the true +explanation of his weakness and strength, and of +the intense dislike felt for him by Voltaire and +the school of Voltaire. They belonged to their +time, Rousseau to a coming time.</p> + +<p>The eighteenth century, especially in France, +was one in which nature was at its minimum and +art at its maximum. All was art. But art separated +from nature becomes artificial, not to say +artful. Decorum was the law in morals; the +<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">bienséances</i> and <em>convenances</em> ruled in society. +The stage was bound by conventional rules. Poetry +walked in silk attire, and made its toilette +with the elaborate dignity of the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">levée</i> of the +Grand Monarque. Against all this Rousseau led +the reaction—the reaction inevitable as destiny. +As art had been pushed to an extreme, so now +naturalism was carried to the opposite extreme. +Rousseau was the apostle of nature in all things.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> +Children were to be educated by the methods of +nature, not according to the routine of old custom. +Governments were to go back to their origin in +human nature; society was to be reorganized on +first principles. This voice crying in the wilderness +was like the trumpet of doom to the age, announcing +the age to come. It laid the axe at the +root of the tree. Its outcome was the French +Revolution, that rushing, mighty flood, which carried +away the throne, the aristocracy, the manners, +laws, and prejudices of the past.</p> + +<p>In his first great work, the work which startled +Europe, Rousseau recalled man to himself. He +said, "The true philosophy is to commune with +one's self,"—the greatest saying, thinks Henri +Martin, that had been pronounced in that century. +Rousseau condemned luxury, and uttered a prophetic +cry of woe over the tangled perplexities of +the time. "There is no longer a remedy, <em>unless +through some great revolution, almost as much to +be feared as the evil it would cure,—which it is +blamable to desire, impossible to foresee</em>."</p> + +<p>"<em>Man is naturally good</em>," says Rousseau. Before +the frightful words "mine" and "thine" +were invented, how could there have been, he +asks, any vices or crimes? He denounced all +slavery, all inequality, all forms of oppression. +His writings were full of exaggeration, but, says +the French historian, "no sooner had he opened +his lips than he restored earnestness to the world."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span> +The same writer, after speaking of the faults of +the "Nouvelle Héloïse," adds that nevertheless "a +multitude of the letters of his 'Julie' are masterpieces +of eloquence, passion, and profundity; and +the last portions are signalized by a moral purity, +a wisdom of views, and a religious elevation +altogether new in the France of the eighteenth century." +Concerning "Emile," he says, "It is the profoundest +study of human nature in our language; +it was an ark of safety, launched by Providence +on the waves of skepticism and materialism. If +Rousseau had been stricken out of the eighteenth +century, whither, we seriously ask, would the human +mind have drifted?"<a name="FNanchor_43" id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">43</a></p> + +<p>The "Social Contract" appeared in 1762. In +this work Rousseau swept away by his powerful +eloquence the arguments which placed sovereignty +elsewhere than in the hands of the people. This +fundamental idea was the seed corn which broke +from the earth in the first Revolution, and bears its +ripe fruit in republican France to-day. D'Alembert, +who disliked Rousseau, said of "Emile" +that "it placed him at the head of all writers." +The "Social Contract," illogical and unsound in +many things, yet tore down the whole framework +of despotism. Van Laun, a more recent historian, +tells us that Rousseau was a man of the +people, who knew all their wants; that every vice +he attacked was one that they saw really present<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> +in their midst; that he "opened the flood-gates of +suppressed desires, which gushed forth, overwhelming +a whole artificial world." Villemain +writes that the words of Rousseau, "descending +like a flame of fire, moved the souls of his contemporaries;" +and that "his books glow with an +eloquence which can never pass away." Morley, +to whom Rousseau is essentially antipathic, says of +the "Social Contract" that its first words, "Man +is born free, but is everywhere in chains," thrilled +two continents,—that it was the gospel of the +Jacobins; and the action of the convention in +1794 can be explained only by the influence of +Rousseau. He taught France to believe in a government +of the people, by the people, and for the +people. Locke had already taught this doctrine +in England, where it produced no such violent +outbreak, because it encountered no such glaring +abuses.</p> + +<p>Such is the striking contrast between these two +greatest writers in modern French literature. It +is singular to observe their instinctive antagonism +in every point of belief and character. The merits +of one are precisely opposite to those of the other: +their faults are equally opposed.</p> + +<p>The events of Voltaire's life have been so often +told that Mr. Parton has not been able to add +much to our knowledge of his biography. He was +born in 1694 and died in 1778, at the age of +eighty-four, though at his birth he was so feeble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span> +that those who believe that the world's progress +depends on the survival of the fittest would have +thought him not fit to be brought up. This was +also the case with Goethe and Walter Scott. His +father was a notary, and the name Arouet had +that of Voltaire added to it, it being a name in his +mother's family. This affix was adopted by the +lad when in the Bastille, at the age of twenty-four. +As a duck takes to water, so Voltaire took to his +pen. In his twelfth year he wrote verses addressed +to the Dauphin, which so pleased the +famous Ninon de l'Enclos, then in her ninetieth +year, that she left the boy a legacy of two thousand +francs. He went to a Jesuits' school, and +always retained a certain liking for the Jesuits. +His father wished to make him a notary, but he +would "pen a stanza when he should engross;" +and the usual struggles between the paternal purpose +and the filial instinct ended, as usual, in the +triumph of the latter. He led a wild career for a +time, in the society of dissipated abbès, debauched +noblemen, and women to whom pleasure was the +only object. Suspected of having written a lampoon +on the death of Louis XIV., he was sent to +the Bastille, and came forth not only with a new +name, but with literature as his aim for the rest of +his life. His first play appeared on the stage in +1718, and from that time he continued to write +till his death. He traveled from the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">château</i> of +one nobleman to another, pouring out his satires<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> +and sarcasms through the press; threatened by +the angry rulers and priests who governed France, +but always escaping by some adroit manœuvre. +In England he became a deist and a mathematician. +His views of Christ and Christianity were +summed up in a quatrain which may be thus +translated. Speaking of Jesus, he <span class="locked">says,—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"His actions are holy, his ethics divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into hearts which are wounded he pours oil and wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if, through imposture, those truths are received,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It still is a blessing to be thus deceived."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">He lived many years at Cirey with the Marchioness +of Châtelet; the marquis, her husband, accepting +the curious relation without any objection. +Then followed the still stranger episode of his +residence with Frederic the Great, their love quarrels +and reconciliations. After this friendship +came to an end, Voltaire went to live near Geneva +in Switzerland, but soon bought another estate +just out of Switzerland, in France, and a third a +short distance away, in the territory of another +power. Thus, if threatened in one state, he could +easily pass into another. Here he lived and +worked till the close of his life, an untiring writer. +He was a man of infinite wit, kind-hearted, with +little malignity of any sort, wishing in the main +to do good. His violent attacks upon Christianity +may be explained by the fact of the corruptions of +the Church which were around him. The Church +of France in that day, in its higher circles, was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span> +persecuting Church, yet without faith: greedy for +wealth, living in luxury, careless of the poor, and +well deserving the attacks of Voltaire. That he +could not look deeper and see the need of religious +institutions of a better sort was his misfortune.</p> + +<p>This work is a storehouse of facts for the history +of Voltaire and his time. We do not think it will +materially alter the judgment pronounced on him +by such critics as Carlyle, Morley, and the majority +of French writers in our day. Voltaire was a shining +light in his age, but that age has gone by, and +can never return.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="RALPH WALDO EMERSON"><a id="EMERSON">RALPH WALDO EMERSON</a><a name="FNanchor_44" id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">44</a></h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Matt.</span> vi. 23.—<em>If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of +light.</em></p> + +<p class="p2">It is natural and fit that many pulpits to-day +should take for their theme the character and influence +of the great thinker and poet who has just +left us; for every such soul is a new revelation of +God's truth and love. Each opens the gateway between +our lower world of earthly care and earthly +pleasure into a higher heavenly world of spirit. +Such men lift our lives to a higher plane, and convince +us that we, also, belong to God, to eternity, +to heaven. And few, in our day, have been such +mediators of heavenly things to mankind as Ralph +Waldo Emerson.</p> + +<p>Last Sunday afternoon, when the town of Concord +was mourning through all its streets for the +loss of its beloved and revered citizen; when the +humblest cottage had on its door the badge of sorrow; +when great numbers came from abroad to +testify their affection and respect, that which impressed +me the most was the inevitable response +of the human heart to whatever is true and good. +Cynics may tell us that men are duped by charlatans,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> +led by selfish demagogues, incapable of knowing +honor and truth when set before them; that +they always stone their prophets and crucify their +saviors; that they have eyes, and do not see; ears, +and never hear. This is all true for a time; but +inevitably, by a law as sure as that which governs +the movements of the planets, the souls of men +turn at last toward what is true, generous, and +noble. The prophets and teachers of the race may +be stoned by one generation, but their monuments +are raised by the next. They are misunderstood +and misrepresented to-day, but to-morrow they become +the accredited leaders of their time. Jesus, +who knew well that he would be rejected and murdered +by a people blind and deaf to his truth, also +knew that this truth would sooner or later break +down all opposition, and make him master and +king of the world. "I, if I be lifted up, will draw +all men unto me."</p> + +<p>Last Sunday afternoon, as the grateful procession +followed their teacher to his grave in the Concord +cemetery, the harshness of our spring seemed +to relent, and Nature became tender toward him +who had loved her so well. I thought of his words, +"The visible heavens and earth sympathized with +Jesus." The town where "the embattled farmers +stood;" where the musket was discharged which +opened the War of the Revolution—the gun of +which Lafayette said, "It was the alarm-gun of the +world;" the town of Hawthorne's "Old Manse,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> +and of his grave, now that Emerson also sleeps in +its quiet valley, has received an added glory. It +has become one of the "Meccas of the mind."</p> + +<p>Let me describe the mental and spiritual condition +of New England when Emerson appeared. +Calvinism, with its rigorous dogmatism, was slowly +dying, and had been succeeded by a calm and somewhat +formal rationalism. Locke was still the master +in the realm of thought; Addison and Blair in +literary expression. In poetry, the school of Pope +was engaged in conflict with that of Byron and his +contemporaries. Wordsworth had led the way to +a deeper view of nature; but Wordsworth could +scarcely be called a popular writer. In theology a +certain literalism prevailed, and the doctrines of +Christianity were inferred from counting and weighing +texts on either side. Not the higher reason, +with its intuition of eternal ideas, but the analytic +understanding, with its logical methods, was considered +to be the ruler in the world of thought. +There was more of culture than of intellectual life, +more of good habits than of moral enthusiasm. +Religion had become very much of an external +institution. Christianity consisted in holding rational +or orthodox opinions, going regularly to +church, and listening every Sunday to a certain +number of prayers, hymns, and sermons. These +sermons, with some striking exceptions, were rather +tame and mechanical. In Boston, it is true, Buckminster +had appeared,—that soul of flame which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> +soon wore to decay its weak body. The consummate +orator Edward Everett had followed him in +Brattle Square pulpit. Above all, Channing had +looked, with a new spiritual insight, into the truths +of religion and morality. But still the mechanical +treatment prevailed in a majority of the churches +of New England, and was considered, on the whole, +to be the wisest and safest method. There was an +unwritten creed of morals, literature, and social +thought to which all were expected to conform. +There was little originality and much repetition. +On all subjects there were certain formulas which +it was considered proper to repeat. "Thou art a +blessed fellow," says one of Shakespeare's characters, +"to think as other people think. Not a man's +thought in the world keeps the roadway better than +thine." The thought of New England kept the +roadway. Of course, at all times a large part of +the belief of the community is derived from memory, +custom, and imitation; but in those days, if +I remember them aright, it was regarded as a kind +of duty to think as every one else thought; a sort +of delinquency, or weakness, to differ from the majority.</p> + +<p>If the movements of thought are now much +more independent and spontaneous; if to-day traditions +have lost their despotic power; if even +those who hold an orthodox creed are able to treat +it as a dead letter, respectable for its past uses, +but by no means binding on us now, this is largely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> +owing to the manly position taken by Emerson. +And yet, let it be observed, this influence was not +exercised by attacking old opinions, by argument, +by denial, by criticism. Theodore Parker did all +this, but his influence on thought has been far less +than that of Emerson. Parker was a hero who +snuffed the battle afar off, and flung himself, +sword in hand, into the thick of the conflict. But, +much as we love and reverence his honesty, his +immense activity, his devotion to truth and right, +we must admit to-day, standing by these two +friendly graves, that the power of Emerson to +soften the rigidity of time-hardened belief was far +the greater. It is the old fable of the storm and +sun. The violent attacks of the tempest only +made the traveler cling more closely to his cloak; +the genial heat of the sun compelled him to throw +it aside. In all Emerson's writings there is +scarcely any argument. He attacks no man's belief; +he simply states his own. His method is +always positive, constructive. He opens the windows +and lets in more light. He is no man's +opponent; the enemy of no one. He states what +he sees, and that which he does not see he passes +by. He was often attacked, but never replied. +His answer was to go forward, and say something +else. He did not care for what he called the +"bugbear consistency." If to-day he said what +seemed like Pantheism, and to-morrow he saw +some truth which seemed to reveal a divine personality,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span> +a supreme will, he uttered the last, as he +had declared the first, always faithful to the light +within. He left it to the spirit of truth to reconcile +such apparent contradictions. He was like +his own humble-bee—</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Seeing only what is fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sipping only what is sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou dost mock at fate and care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leave the chaff and take the wheat."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>By this method of positive statement he not +only saved the time usually wasted in argument, +attack, reply, rejoinder, but he gave us the substance +of Truth, instead of its form. Logic and +metaphysic reveal no truths; they merely arrange +in order what the higher faculties of the mind +have made known. Hence the speedy oblivion +which descends on polemics of all sorts. The +great theological debaters, where are they? The +books of Horsley and McGee are buried in +the same grave with those of Belsham and +Priestley, their old opponents. The bitter attacks +on Christianity by Voltaire and Paine are inurned +in the same dark and forgotten vaults with the +equally bitter defenses of Christianity by its +numerous champions. Argument may often be +necessary, but no truth is slain by argument; no +error can be kept alive by it. Emerson is an eminent +example of a man who never replied to attacks, +but went on his way, and saw at last all +opposition hushed, all hostility at an end. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span> +devoted his powers to giving to his readers his +insights, knowing that these alone feed the soul. +Thus men came to him to be fed. His sheep +heard his voice. Those who felt themselves better +for his instruction followed him. He collected +around him thus an ever-increasing band of disciples, +until in England, in Germany, in all lands +where men read and think, he is looked up to as a +master. Many of these disciples were persons of +rare gifts and powers, like Margaret Fuller, Theodore +Parker, George Ripley, Hawthorne. Many +others were unknown to fame, yet deeply sensible +of the blessings they had received from their prophet +and seer of the nineteenth century. For this +was his office. He was a man who saw. He had +the vision and the faculty divine. He sat near +the fountain-head, and tasted the waters of Helicon +in their source.</p> + +<p>His first little book, a duodecimo of less than a +hundred pages, called "Nature," published in +1836, indicates all these qualities. It begins +<span class="locked">thus:—</span></p> + +<p>"Our age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres +of the fathers. It writes biographies, histories, +criticisms. The foregoing generations beheld +God and Nature face to face; we, through +their eyes. Why should not we also enjoy an +original relation to the universe? Why should +not we have a poetry and philosophy of insight, +and not of tradition, and a religion by revelation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span> +to us, and not the history of theirs?... The sun +shines to-day also.... Undoubtedly we have no +questions to ask which are unanswerable."</p> + +<p>This was his first doctrine, that of self-reliance. +He taught that God had given to every man the +power to see with his own eyes, think with his own +mind, believe what seemed to him true, plant himself +on his instincts, and, as he says, "call a pop-gun +a pop-gun, though the ancient and honorable +of the earth declare it to be the crack of doom." +This was manly and wholesome doctrine. It +might, no doubt, be abused, and lead some persons +to think they were men of original genius when +they were only eccentric. It may have led others +to attack all institutions and traditions, as though, +if a thing were old, it was necessarily false. But +Emerson himself was the best antidote to such +extravagance. To a youth who brought to him a +manuscript confuting Plato he replied, "When +you attack the king you ought to be sure to kill +him." But his protest against the prevailing conventionalism +was healthy, and his call on all "to +be themselves" was inspiring.</p> + +<p>The same doctrine is taught in the introductory +remarks of the editors of the "Dial." They say +they have obeyed with joy the strong current of +thought which has led many sincere persons to +reprobate that rigor of conventions which is turning +them to stone, which renounces hope and only +looks backward, which suspects improvement, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> +holds nothing so much in horror as the dreams of +youth. This work, the "Dial," made a great +impression, out of all proportion to its small circulation. +By the elders it was cordially declared +to be unintelligible mysticism, and so, no doubt, +much of it was. Those inside, its own friends, +often made as much fun of it as those outside. +Yet it opened the door for many new and noble +thoughts, and was a wild bugle-note, a reveillé, +calling on all generous hearts to look toward the +coming day.</p> + +<p>Here is an extract from one of Emerson's letters +from Europe as early as March, 1833. It is dated +<span class="locked">Naples:—</span></p> + +<p>"And what if it be Naples! It is only the +same world of cakes and ale, of man, and truth, +and folly. I will not be imposed upon by a name. +It is so easy to be overawed by names that it is +hard to keep one's judgment upright, and be +pleased only after your own way. Baiæ and Pausilippo +sound so big that we are ready to surrender +at discretion, and not stickle for our private +opinion against what seems the human race. But +here's for the plain old Adam, the simple, genuine +self against the whole world."</p> + +<p>Again he says: "Nothing so fatal to genius as +genius. Mr. Taylor, author of 'Van Artevelde,' +is a man of great intellect, but by study of Shakespeare +is forced to reproduce Shakespeare."</p> + +<p>Thus the first great lesson taught by Mr. Emerson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> +was "self-reliance." And the second was +like it, though apparently opposed to it, "God-reliance." +Not really opposed to it, for it meant +this: God is near to your mind and heart, as +he was to the mind and heart of the prophets +and inspired men of the past. God is ready to +inspire you also if you will trust in him. In the +little book called "Nature" he <span class="locked">says:—</span></p> + +<p>"The highest is present to the soul of man; the +dread universal essence, which is not wisdom, or +love, or power, or beauty, but all in one, and each +entirely, is that for which all things exist, and by +which they are. Believe that throughout nature +spirit is present; that it is one, that it does not +act upon us from without, but through ourselves.... +As a plant on the earth, so man rests on the +bosom of God, nourished by unfailing fountains, +and drawing at his need inexhaustible power."</p> + +<p>And so in his poem called "The Problem" he +teaches that all religions are from God; that all +the prophets and sibyls and lofty souls that have +sung psalms, written scripture, and built the temples +and cathedrals of men, were inspired by a +spirit above their own. He puts aside the shallow +explanation that any of the great religions ever +came from <span class="locked">priestcraft:—</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span></p><div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Out from the heart of Nature rolled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burdens of the Bible old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The litanies of nations came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the volcano's tongue of flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up from the burning core below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The canticles of love and woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"The word unto the prophet spoken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was writ on tables yet unbroken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The word by seers or sibyls told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In groves of oak or fanes of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still floats upon the moving wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still whispers to the willing mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One accent of the Holy Ghost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heedless world hath never lost."<br /></span> +</div> +</div></div> + +<p>In all that Emerson says of nature he is equally +devout. He sees God in it all. It is to him full +of a divine charm. "In the woods," he says, "is +perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God +a decorum and sanctity reigns, and we return to +reason and faith." "The currents of the Universal +Being circulate through me. I am part and +particle of God." For saying such things as these +he was accused of Pantheism. And he was a Pantheist; +yet only as Paul was a Pantheist when he +said, "In Him we live and move and have our +being;" "From whom and through whom are all +things;" "The fullness of him who filleth all in +all." Emerson was, in his view of nature, at one +with Wordsworth, who <span class="locked">said:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i6q">"The clouds were touched,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in their silent faces he could read<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unutterable love. Sensation, soul, and form<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All melted into him; they swallowed up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His animal being; in them did he live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by them did he live; they were his life.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In such high hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of visitation from the living God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Emerson has thus been to our day the prophet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span> +of God in the soul, in nature, in life. He has +stood for spirit against matter. Darwin, his great +peer, the serene master in the school of science, +was like him in this,—that he also said what he +saw and no more. He also taught what God +showed to him in the outward world of sense, as +Emerson what God showed in the inward world of +spirit. Amid the stormy disputes of their time, +each of these men went his own way, his eye single +and his whole body full of light. The work of +Darwin was the easier, for he floated with the +current of the time, which sets at present so strongly +toward the study of things seen and temporal. +But the work of Emerson was more noble, for he +stands for things unseen and eternal,—for a larger +religion, a higher faith, a nobler worship. This +strong and tender soul has done its work and gone +on its way. But he will always fill a niche of the +universal Church as a New England prophet. He +had the purity of the New England air in his moral +nature, a touch of the shrewd Yankee wit in his +speech, and the long inheritance of ancestral faith +incarnate and consolidated in blood and brain. +But to this were added qualities which were derived +from some far-off realm of human life: an +Oriental cast of thought, a touch of mediæval +mysticism, and a vocabulary brought from books +unknown to our New England literature. No +commonplaces of language are to be found in his +writings, and though he read the older writers, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> +does not imitate them. He, also, like his humble-bee, +has gathered contributions from remotest fields, +and enriched our language with a new and picturesque +speech all his own.</p> + +<p>Let us, then, be grateful for this best of God's +gifts,—another soul sent to us filled with divine +light. Thus we learn anew how full are nature +and life of <span class="locked">God:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Ever fresh the broad creation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A divine improvisation;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the heart of God proceeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A single will, a million deeds."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>One word concerning Mr. Emerson's relation to +Christ and to Christianity. The distinction which +he made between Jesus and other teachers was, no +doubt, one of degree and not one of kind. He put +no great gulf of supernatural powers, origin, or office +between Christ and the ethnic prophets. But +his reverence for Jesus was profound and tender. +Nor did he object to the word "Christian" or to +the Christian Church. In recent years, at least, he +not unfrequently attended the services of the Unitarian +Church in his town, and I have met him at +Unitarian conventions, a benign and revered presence.</p> + +<p>In the cemetery at Bonn, on the Rhine, is the +tomb of Niebuhr, the historian, a man of somewhat +like type, as I judge, to our Emerson. At +least, some texts on his monument would be admirably +appropriate for any stone which may be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> +placed over the remains of the American prophet +and poet in the sweet valley of tombs in Concord.</p> + +<p>One of these texts was from Sirach xlvii. 14, 17:</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"How wise wast thou in thy youth, and as a flood filled with understanding!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soul covered the whole earth, and thou filledst it with dark parables.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy name went far unto the islands, and for thy peace thou wast beloved.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The countries marvelled at thee for thy songs and proverbs and parables and interpretations."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">And equally appropriate would be this Horatian +line, also on Niebuhr's <span class="locked">monument:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam cari capitis."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>From a lifelong friend of Emerson I have just +received a letter containing these words, which, +better than most descriptions, give the character of +his <span class="locked">soul:—</span></p> + +<p>"And so the white wings have spread, and the +great soul has left us.</p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0">'’Tis death is dead; not he.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">He had no vanity, no selfishness; no greed, no +hate; none of the weights that drag on common +mortals. His life was an illumination; a large, +fair light; the Pharos of New England, as in other +days our dear brother called him. And this light +shone further and wider the longer it burned."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="HARRIET MARTINEAU"><a id="HARRIET">HARRIET MARTINEAU</a><a name="FNanchor_45" id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">45</a></h2> + +<p>The whole <span class="locked">work<a name="FNanchor_46" id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">46</a></span> is very interesting. How could +it be otherwise, in giving the history of so remarkable +a life? The amount of literary work which +Miss Martineau performed is amazing. She began +to write for the press when she was nineteen, and +continued until she could no longer hold her pen. +The pen was her sword, which she wielded with a +warrior's joy, in the conflict of truth with error, of +right with wrong. She wrote many books; but +her articles in reviews and newspapers were innumerable. +We find no attempt in either part of this +biography to give a complete list of her writings. +Perhaps it would be impossible. She never seems +to have thought of keeping such a record herself, +any more than a hero records the number of the +blows he strikes, in battle. No sooner had she dismissed +one task than another came; and sometimes +several were going on together. Like other voluminous +writers, she enjoyed the exercise of her productive +powers; and, as she somewhere tells us, her +happiest hours were those in which she was seated +at her desk with her pen.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span></p> +<p>Her principal works cover a large range of +thought and study. One of her first books, "The +Traditions of Palestine," she continued to regard +long after with more affection than any other of +her writings, except "Eastern Life." But her +authorship began when she was nineteen, in an article +contributed to a Unitarian monthly. Afterwards +she obtained three separate prizes offered by +the Central Unitarian Association for three essays +on different topics. About the same time she wrote +"Five Years of Youth," a tale which she never +looked at afterward. But her first great step in +authorship, and that which at once made her a +power in politics and in literature, was taken when +she commenced her series of tales on "Political +Economy." She began, however, to write these +stories, not knowing that she was treating questions +of Political Economy, "the very name of which," +she says, "was then either unknown to me, or conveyed +no meaning." She was then about twenty-five +years old. She had the usual difficulties with +various publishers which unknown authors are sure +to experience, and these tales, which became so +popular, were rejected by one firm after another. +One of them was refused by the Society for the +Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, as being too dull. +The president of that Society, Lord Brougham, +afterward vented his rage on the sub-committee +which rejected the offered story, and so had permitted +their Society, "instituted for that very purpose,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> +to be driven out of the field by a little deaf +woman at Norwich." At last a publisher was +found who agreed to take the books on very unsatisfactory +terms. As soon as the first number +appeared, the success of the series was established. +A second edition of five thousand copies was immediately +called for,—the entire periodical press +came out in favor of the tales,—and from that +hour Miss Martineau had only to choose what to +write, sure that it would at once find a publisher.</p> + +<p>She was at this time thirty years old. She was +already deaf, her health poor; but she then began +a career of intellectual labor seldom equaled by +the strongest man through the longest life. She +began to write every morning after breakfast; and, +unless when traveling, seldom passed a morning +during the rest of her life without writing,—working +from eight o'clock until two. Her method +was, after selecting her subject, to procure all the +standard works upon it, and study them. She then +proceeded to make the plan of her work, and to +draw the outline of her story. If the scene was +laid abroad, she procured books of travels and +topography. Then she drew up the contents of +each chapter in detail, and, after this preliminary +labor, the story was written easily and with joy.</p> + +<p>Of these stories she wrote thirty-four in two +years and a half. She was then thirty-two. She +received £2,000 for the whole series,—a sufficiently +small compensation,—but she established<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> +her position and her fame. Her principal books published +afterward were her two works on America, +the novels "Deerbrook" and "The Hour and the +Man;" nine volumes of tales on the Forest and +Game Laws; four stories in the "Playfellow;" +"Life in the Sick-Room;" "Letters on Mesmerism;" +"Eastern Life, Past and Present;" "History +of England during the Thirty Years' Peace;" +"Letters on the Laws of Man's Social Nature and +Development;" "Translation and Condensation +of Comte's Positive Philosophy;" besides many +smaller works, making fifty-two titles in Allibone. +In addition to this, she wrote many articles in reviews +and magazines; and Mrs. Chapman mentions +that she sent to a single London journal, the +"Daily News," sixteen hundred articles, at the rate +sometimes of six a week. Surely Harriet Martineau +was one who worked faithfully while her day +endured.</p> + +<p>But, if we would do her justice, we must consider +also the motive and spirit in which she +worked. Each thing she did had for its purpose +nothing merely personal, but some good to mankind. +Though there was nothing in her character +of the sentimentalism of philanthropy, she was +filled with the spirit of philanthropy. A born reformer, +she inherited from her Huguenot and her +Unitarian ancestors the love of truth and the hatred +of error, with the courage which was ready to avow +her opinions, however unpopular. Thus, her work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span> +was warfare, and every article or book which she +printed was a blow delivered against some flagrant +wrong, or what she believed such,—in defense of +some struggling truth, or something supposed to be +truth. She might be mistaken; but her purposes +through life were, in the main, noble, generous, and +good.</p> + +<p>And there can be no question of her ability, +moral and intellectual. No commonplace mind +could have overcome such obstacles and achieved +such results. Apparently she had no very high +opinion of her own intellectual powers. She denies +that she possesses genius; but she asserts her own +power. She criticises "Deerbrook" with some +severity. And, in fact, Harriet Martineau's mind +is analytic rather than creative; it is strong rather +than subtle; and, if it possesses imagination, it is +of rather a prosaic kind. Her intellect is of a +curiously masculine order; no other female writer +was ever less feminine. With all her broad humanity +she has little sympathy for individuals. A +large majority of those whom she mentions in her +memoirs she treats with a certain contempt.</p> + +<p>Her early life seems to have been very sad. We +are again and again told how she was misunderstood +and maltreated in her own home. Her health +was bad until she was thirty; partly owing, as she +supposed, to ill-treatment. She needed affection, +and was treated with sternness. Justice she did +not receive, nor kindness, and her heart was soured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> +and her temper spoiled, so she tells us, by this mismanagement. +As she does not specify, or give us +the details of this ill-treatment, the story is useless +as a warning; and we hardly see the reason for +thus publishing the wrongs of her childhood. As +children may be sometimes unjust to parents, no +less than parents to children, the facts and the +moral are both left uncertain. And, on the whole, +her chief reason for telling the story appears to be +the mental necessity she was under of judging and +sentencing those from whom she supposes herself +to have received ill-treatment in any part of her +life.</p> + +<p>This is indeed the most painful feature of the +work before us. Knowing the essentially generous +and just spirit of Harriet Martineau, it is strange +to see how carefully she has loaded this piece of +artillery with explosive and lacerating missiles, +to be discharged after her death among those with +whom she had mingled in social intercourse or literary +labors. Some against whom she launches +her sarcasms are still living; some are dead, but +have left friends behind, to be wounded by her +caustic judgments. Is it that her deficiency in a +woman's sensibility, or the absence of a poetic +imagination, prevented her from realizing the suffering +she would inflict? Or is it the habit of mind +from which those are apt to suffer who devote themselves +to the reform of abuses? As each kind of +manual occupation exposes the workman to some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> +special disease,—as those who dig canals suffer +from malaria, and file-grinders from maladies of +the lungs,—so it seems that each moral occupation +has its appropriate moral danger. Clergymen are +apt to be dogmatic or sectarian; lawyers become +sharp and sophistical; musicians and artists are +irritable; and the danger of a reformer is of becoming +a censorious critic of those who cannot accept +his methods, or who will not join his party. +That Harriet Martineau did not escape this risk +will presently appear.</p> + +<p>While writing her politico-economical stories she +moved to London, and there exchanged the quiet +seclusion of her Norwich life for social triumphs of +the first order, and intercourse with every kind of +celebrity. All had read her books, from Victoria, +who was then a little girl perusing them with her +governess, to foreign kings and savants of the highest +distinction. So this young author—for she was +only thirty—was received at once into the most +brilliant circles of London society. But it does not +appear that she lost a single particle of her dignity +or self-possession. Among the great she neither +asserted herself too much nor showed too much deference. +Vanity was not her foible; and her head +was too solidly set upon her shoulders to be turned +by such successes. She enjoyed the society of these +people of superior refinement, rank, and culture, +but did not come to depend upon it; and in all this +Harriet Martineau sinned not in her spirit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span> +But why, in writing about these people long +afterward, should she have thought it necessary to +produce such sharp and absolute sentences on each +and all? Into this judgment-hall of Osiris-Martineau, +every one whom she has ever known is called +up to receive his final doom. The poor Unitarian +ministers, who had taught the child as they best +could, are dismissed with contemptuous severity. +This religious instruction had certainly done her +some good. Religion, she admits, was her best +resource till she wrought her way to something +better. Ann Turner, daughter of the Unitarian +minister, gave her piety a practical turn, and when +afraid of every one she saw, she was not at all +afraid of God; and, on the whole, she says religion +was a great comfort and pleasure to her. Nevertheless, +she is astonished that Unitarians should +believe that they are giving their children a Christian +education. She accuses these teachers of her +childhood of altering the Scripture to suit their +own notions; being apparently ignorant that most +of the interpolations or mistranslations of which +they complained have since been conceded as such +by the best Orthodox critics. But she does not +hesitate to give her opinion of all her old acquaintances +in the frankest manner, and for the most +part it is unfavorable. Mrs. Opie and Mrs. John +Taylor are among the "mere pedants." William +Taylor, from want of truth and conviction, talked +blasphemy. She speaks with contempt of a physician<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> +who politely urged her to come and dine with +him, because he had neglected her until she became +famous. Lord Brougham was "vain and selfish, +low in morals, and unrestrained in temper." Lord +Campbell was "flattering to an insulting degree;" +Archbishop Whately, "odd and overbearing," +"sometimes rude and tiresome," and "singularly +overrated;" Stanley, Bishop of Norwich, "timid," +"sensitive," "heedless," "without courage or dignity." +Macaulay "talked nonsense" about the +copyright bill, and "set at naught every principle +of justice in regard to authors' earnings." Macaulay's +opposition to that bill was based on such +grounds of perfect justice that he defeated it single-handed. +But Harriet Martineau decided then +and there that Macaulay was a failure, and that +"he wanted heart," and that he "never has +achieved any complete success." The poet Campbell +had "a morbid craving for praise." As to +women, Lady Morgan, Lady Davy, Mrs. Jameson, +Mrs. Austin, "may make women blush and men +be insolent" with their "gross and palpable vanities." +Landseer was a toady to great people. +Morpeth had "evident weaknesses." Sir Charles +Bell showed his ignorance by relying on the argument +for Design. The resources of Eastlake were +very <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">bornés</i>. John Sterling "rudely ignored me." +Lady Mary Shepherd was "a pedant." Coleridge, +she asserts, will only be remembered as a warning; +though twenty years ago she, Miss Martineau,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span> +"regarded him as a poet." Godwin was "timid." +Basil Montagu was "cowardly;" and Lord Monteagle +"agreeable enough to those who were not +particular about sincerity." Urquhart had "insane +egotism and ferocious discontent." The +Howitts made "an unintelligible claim to my +friendship," their "tempers are turbulent and +unreasonable." It may be some explanation of +this unintelligible claim that it was heard through +her trumpet. Fredrika Bremer is accused of habits +of "flattery" and "a want of common sense." +Miss Mitford is praised, but then accused of a +"habit of flattery," and blamed for her "disparagement +of others." And it is Miss Martineau +who brings this charge! She also tells us that +Miss Bremer "proposes to reform the world by a +floating religiosity," whatever that may be. But +perhaps her severest sentence is pronounced on the +Kembles, who are accused of "incurable vulgarity" +and "unreality." In this case, as in others, Miss +Martineau pronounces this public censure on those +whom she had learned to know in the intimacy of +private friendship and personal confidence. She +thus violates the rules rather ostentatiously laid +down in her Introduction. For she claims there +that she practices self-denial in interdicting the +publication of her <span class="locked">letters,<a name="FNanchor_47" id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">47</a></span> and gives her reasons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> +thus: "Epistolary conversation is written speech; +and the <em>onus</em> rests with those who publish it to +show why the laws of honor, which are uncontested +in regard to conversation, may be violated when +the conversation is written instead of spoken." +Most of her sharp judgments above quoted are +pronounced on those whom she learned to know +in the private intercourse of society. Sometimes +she recites the substance of what she heard (or +supposed that she heard; for she used an ear-tube +when she first went to live in London). Thus she +tells about a conversation with Wordsworth, and +reports his complaints of Jeffrey and other reviewers, +and quotes him as saying about one of his +own poems, that it was "a chain of very <em>valooable</em> +thoughts." "You see, it does not best fulfill the +conditions of poetry; but it is" (solemnly) "a +chain of extremely valooable thoughts." She then +proceeds to pronounce her sentence on Wordsworth +as she did on Coleridge. She felt at once, she +says, in Wordsworth's works, "the absence of +sound, accurate, weighty thought, and of genuine +poetic inspiration." She also informs us that "the +very basis of philosophy is absent in him," and +that it is only necessary "to open Shelley, Tennyson, +or even poor Keats ... to feel that, with all +their truth and all their charm, few of Wordsworth's +pieces are poems." "<em>Even poor Keats!</em>" +This is her <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">de haut en bas</i> style of criticism +on Wordsworth, one of whose poems is generally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span> +accepted as the finest written in the English language +during the last hundred years. And this is +her way of respecting "the code of honor" in regard +to private conversation!</p> + +<p>In 1834, at the age of thirty-two, Harriet Martineau +sailed for the United States, where she remained +two years. She went for rest; but the +quantity of work done in those two years would +have been enough to fill five or six years of any +common life. At this point she began a new career; +forming new ties, engaging in new duties, +studying new problems, and beginning a new activity +in another sphere of labor. The same great +qualities which she had hitherto displayed showed +themselves here again; accompanied with their +corresponding defects. Her wonderful power of +study enabled her to enter into the very midst of +the phenomena of American life; her noble generosity +induced her to throw herself heart, hand, and +mind into the greatest struggle then waging on the +face of the earth. The antislavery question, which +the great majority of people of culture despised +or disliked, took possession of her soul. She became +one of the party of Abolitionists, of which +Mr. Garrison was the chief, and lived to see that +party triumph in the downfall of slavery. She +took her share of the hatred or the scorn heaped +on that fiery body of zealous propagandists, and +was counted worthy of belonging to what she herself +called "the Martyr Age of the United States."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> +Fortunately for herself, before she visited Boston, +and became acquainted with the Abolitionists, +she went to Washington, and traveled somewhat +extensively in the Southern States. At Washington +she saw many eminent Southern senators, who +cordially invited her to visit them at their homes. +In South Carolina she was welcomed or introduced +by Mr. Calhoun, Governor Hayne, and Colonel +Preston. Judge Porter took charge of her in +Louisiana. In Kentucky she was the guest of +Mrs. Irwin, Henry Clay's daughter and neighbor. +Without fully accepting Mrs. Chapman's somewhat +sweeping assertion that there was no eminent +statesman, man of science, politician, partisan, +philanthropist, jurist, professor, merchant, divine, +nor distinguished woman, in the whole land, who +did not pay her homage, there is no doubt that she +received the respect and good-will of many such. +She was deeply impressed, she says, on arriving in +the United States, with a society basking in one +bright sunshine of good-will. She thought the New +Englanders, perhaps, the best people in the world. +Many well-known names appear in these pages, as +soon becoming intimate acquaintances or friends; +among these were Judge Story, John G. Palfrey, +Stephen C. Phillips, the Gilmans of South +Carolina, Mr. and Mrs. Furness of Philadelphia, +and in Massachusetts the Sedgwicks, the Follens, +Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray Loring, Mr. and Mrs. +Charles G. Loring, Dr. Channing, Mr. and Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span> +Henry Ware, Dr. Flint of Salem, and Ephraim +Peabody.</p> + +<p>When Miss Martineau had identified herself +with Mr. Garrison and his friends by taking part +in their meetings, those who had merely sought +her on account of her position and reputation naturally +fell away. But it may be doubted whether +she was in such danger of being mobbed or murdered +as she and her editor suppose. She seems +to think that Mr. Henry Ware did a very brave +deed in driving to Mr. Francis Jackson's house to +take her home from an antislavery meeting. She +speaks of the reign of terror which existed in Boston +at that time. No doubt she, and other Abolitionists, +had their share of abuse; but it is not +probable that any persons were, as she thought, +plotting against her life. She and her friends +were deterred from taking a proposed journey to +Cincinnati and Louisville by being informed that +it was intended to mob her in the first city and +to hang her in the second. Now, the writer of this +article was at that time residing in Louisville, and +though antislavery discussions and antislavery lectures +had taken place there about that period, and +though antislavery articles not unfrequently appeared +in the city journals, no objection or opposition +was made to all this by anybody in that place. +In fact, it was easier at that time to speak against +slavery in Louisville than in Boston. The leading +people in Kentucky of all parties were then openly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> +opposed to slavery, and declared their hope and +purpose of making Kentucky a free State. A year +later, Dr. Channing published his work on slavery, +which was denounced for its abolitionism by +the "Boston Statesman," and sharply criticised in +a pamphlet by the Massachusetts attorney-general. +But copious extracts from this work, especially of +the parts which exposed the sophisms of the defenders +of slavery, were published in a Louisville +magazine, and not the least objection was made +to it in that city. At a later period it might have +been different, though an antislavery paper was +published in Louisville as late as 1845, one of the +editors being a native Kentuckian.</p> + +<p>After her return from the United States she +published her two works, "Society in America," +and "Retrospect of Western Travel;" and then +wrote her first novel, "Deerbrook." The books +on America were perhaps the best then written by +any foreigner except De Tocqueville. They were +generous, honest, kind, and utterly frank,—they +were full of capital descriptions of American +scenery. She spoke the truth to us, and she +spoke it in love. The chief fault in these works +was her tone of dogmatism, and her <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">ex cathedrâ</i> +judgments; which, as we have before hinted, are +among the defects of her qualities.</p> + +<p>In 1838, when thirty-six years old, she was +taken with serious illness, which confined her to +her room for six years. She attributes this illness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span> +to her anxiety about her aged aunt and mother. +Her mother, she tells us, was irritable on account +of Miss Martineau's fame and position in society; +in short, she was jealous of her daughter's success. +Miss Martineau was obliged to sit up late after +midnight to mend her own clothes, as she was not +allowed to have a maid or to hire a working-woman, +even at her own expense. How she could +have been prevented is difficult to see, especially as +she was the money-making member of the family. +It seems hardly worth while to give us this glimpse +into domestic difficulties. But, no doubt, she is +quite correct in adding, as another reason for her +illness, the toils which were breaking her down. +The strongest men could hardly bear such a strain +on the nervous system without giving way.</p> + +<p>And here comes in the important episode of Mr. +Atkinson, mesmerism, and the New Philosophy. +She believes that she was cured of a disease, pronounced +incurable by the regular physicians, by +mesmerism. By this she means the influence exerted +upon her by certain manipulations from +another person. And as long as we are confessedly +so ignorant of nervous diseases, there +seems no reason to question the facts to which +Miss Martineau testifies. She was, there is little +doubt, cured by these manipulations; what the +power was which wrought through them remains +to be ascertained.</p> + +<p>In regard to Mr. Atkinson and his philosophy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> +accepted by her with such satisfaction, and which +henceforth became the master-light of all her seeing, +our allotted space will allow us only to speak +very briefly. The results of this new mental departure +could not but disturb and afflict many of +her friends, to whom faith in God, Christ, and +immortality was still dear. To Miss Martineau +herself, however, her disbelief in these seemed a +happy emancipation. She carried into the assertion +of her new and unpopular ideas the same +honesty and courage she had always shown, and +also the same superb dogmatism and contempt for +those who differed from her. Apparently it was +always to her an absolute impossibility to imagine +herself wrong when she had once come to a conclusion. +In theory she might conceive it possible +to be mistaken, but practically she felt herself +infallible. The following examples will show how +she speaks, throughout her biography, of those +who held the opinions she had rejected.</p> + +<p>Miss Martineau, being a Necessarian, says, +"All the best minds I know are Necessarians; all, +indeed, who are qualified to discuss the subject at +all." "The very smallest amount of science is +enough to enable any rational being to see that +the constitution and action of will are determined +by the influences beyond the control of the possessor +of the faculty." She adds, that for more than +thirty years she has seen how awful "are the evils +which arise from that monstrous remnant of old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> +superstition,—the supposition of a self-determining +power, etc." Now, among those she had +intimately known were Dr. Channing and James +Martineau, neither of them believing in the doctrine +of Necessity.</p> + +<p>Speaking of Christianity, after she had rejected +it, she calls it "a monstrous superstition." Elsewhere +she speaks of "the Christian superstition of +the contemptible nature of the body;" says that +"Christians deprave their moral sense;" talks of +"the selfish complacencies of religion," and of +"the atmosphere of selfishness which is the very +life of Christian doctrine and of every other theological +scheme;" speaks of "the Christian mythology +as a superstition which fails to make happy, +fails to make good, fails to make wise, and has become +as great an obstacle in the way of progress +as the prior mythologies it took the place of." +"For three centuries it has been undermined, and +its overthrow completely decided." Thus easily +does she settle the question of Christianity.</p> + +<p>Miss Martineau ceased to believe in immortality; +and immediately all believers in immortality +became, to her mind, selfish or stupid, or both. +"I neither wish to live longer here," she says, +"nor to find life again elsewhere. It seems to me +simply absurd to expect it, and a mere act of +restricted human imagination and morality to conceive +of it." There is "a total absence of evidence +for a renewed life." "I myself utterly disbelieve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> +in a future life." She would submit, +though reluctantly, to live again, if compelled to. +"If I find myself conscious after the lapse of life, +it will be all right, of course; but, as I said, the +supposition appears to me absurd."</p> + +<p>Under the instructions of Mr. Atkinson, Miss +Martineau ceased to believe in a personal God, or +any God but an unknown First Cause, identical +with the Universe. The argument for Design, on +which Mr. John Stuart Mill, for instance, lays +such stress, seemed to her "puerile and unphilosophical." +The God of Christians she calls an +"invisible idol." He "who does justice to his +own faculties" must give up "the personality of +the First Cause." She considered the religion in +her "Life in the Sick-Room" to have been "insincere;" +which we, who know the perfect honesty +of Harriet Martineau, must take the liberty to +deny. Though declaring herself to be no Atheist, +because she believes in an unknown and unknowable +First Cause, she regards philosophical Atheists +as the best people she had ever known, and +was delighted in finding herself unacquainted with +God, and so at peace.</p> + +<p>It is curious to read these "Letters on the Laws +of Man's Nature and Development," of which +Harriet Martineau and Mr. Atkinson are the joint +authors. The simple joy with which they declare +themselves the proud discoverers of this happy +land of the unknowable is almost touching. All<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> +that we know, say they, is matter or its manifestation. +"Mind is the product of the brain," and +"the brain is not, as even some phrenologists have +asserted, the instrument of the mind." The brain +is the source of consciousness, will, reason. Man +is "a creature of necessity." "It seems certain +that mind, or the conditions essential to mind, is +evolved from gray vesicular matter." "Nothing +in nature indicates a future life." "Knowledge +recognizes that nothing can be free, or by chance; +no, not even God,—God is the substance of +Law." Whereupon Miss Martineau inquires +whether Mr. Atkinson, in speaking of God, did +not merely use another name for Law. "We +know nothing beyond law, do we?" asks this +meek disciple, seeking for information. Mr. Atkinson +replies that we must assume some fundamental +principle "as a thing essential, though +unknown; and it is this which I wrongly enough +perhaps termed God." But if it is wrong to call +this principle God, and if they know nothing else +behind phenomena, why do they complain so bitterly +at being charged with Atheism? And directly +Mr. Atkinson asserts that "Philosophy +finds no God in nature; no personal being or +creator, nor sees the want of any." "A Creator +after the likeness of man" he affirms to be "an +impossibility." For, though he professes to know +<em>nothing</em> about God, he somehow contrives to know +that God is <em>not</em> what others believe him to be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span> +Eternal sleep after death he professes to be the +only hope of a wise man. The idea of free-will is +so absurd that it "would make a Democritus fall +on his back and roar with laughter." "Christianity +is neither reasonable nor moral." Miss +Martineau responds that "deep and sweet" is her +repose in the conviction that "there is no theory +of God, of an author of Nature, of an origin of the +Universe, which is not utterly repugnant to my +faculties; which is not (to my feelings) so irreverent +as to make me blush, so misleading as to +make me mourn." And thus do the apostle and +the disciple go on, triumphantly proclaiming their +own limitations to the end of the volume.</p> + +<p>And yet the effect of this book is by no means +wholly disagreeable. To be sure, in their constant +assertions of the "impossibility" of any belief but +their own being true, their honest narrowness may +often be a little amusing. They seem like two eyeless +fish in the recesses of the darkness of the Mammoth +Cave talking to each other of the absurdity +of believing in any sun or upper world. But they +are so honest, so sincere, so much in love with +Truth, and so free from any self-seeking, that we +find it easy to sympathize with their naïve sense of +discovery, as they go sounding on their dim and +perilous way. Only we cannot but think what a +disappointment it must be to Harriet Martineau +to find herself alive again in the other world. In +her case, as Mr. Wentworth Higginson acutely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span> +remarks, we are deprived of the pleasure of sympathizing +with her gladness at discovering her +mistake, since another life will be to her a disagreeable +as well as an unforeseen event.</p> + +<p>Nor is it extraordinary, to those who trace +Harriet Martineau's intellectual history, that she +should have fallen into these melancholy conclusions. +In her childhood and youth, most of the +Unitarians of England, followers of Priestley, +adopted his philosophy of materialism and necessity. +Priestley did not believe in a soul, but +trusted for a future life to the resurrection of the +body. He was also a firm believer in philosophical +necessity. An active and logical mind like +Miss Martineau's, destitute of the keenness and +profundity which belonged to that of her brother +James, might very naturally arrive at a disbelief +in anything but matter and its phenomena. From +ignorance of these facts, Mrs. Chapman expresses +surprise that the inconsistency of Harriet Martineau's +belief in necessity, with other parts of her +Unitarianism, "should not have struck herself, her +judges, or the denomination at large." It <em>would</em> +have been inconsistent with American Unitarianism, +but it was not foreign from the views of English +Unitarians at that time.</p> + +<p>The publication of these "Letters" naturally +caused pain to religious people, and especially to +those of them who had known and honored Miss +Martineau for her many past services in the cause<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> +of human freedom and progress. Many of these +were Unitarians and Unitarian ministers, who had +been long proud of her as a member of their denomination +and one of their most valued co-workers. +It seemed necessary for them to declare their +dissent from her new views, and this dissent was +expressed in an article in the "Prospective Review," +written by her own brother, James Martineau. +Mrs. Chapman now makes known, what has +hitherto been only a matter of conjecture, that this +review gave such serious offense to Miss Martineau +that she from that time refused to recognize +her brother or to have any further communication +with him. Mrs. Chapman, who seldom or never +finds her heroine in the wrong, justifies and approves +her conduct also here, quoting a passage +from the review in support of Miss Martineau's +conduct in treating her brother as one of "the +defamers of old times whom she must never again +meet." In this passage Mr. Martineau only expresses +his profound grief that his sister should sit +at the feet of such a master as Mr. Atkinson, and +lay down at his bidding her early faith in moral +obligation, in the living God, in the immortal +sanctities. He calls this "an inversion of the +natural order of nobleness," implying that Mr. +Atkinson ought to have sat at her feet instead; +and, turning to the review itself, we find this the +only passage in which a single word is said which +could be regarded as a censure on Miss Martineau.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span> +But Mr. Atkinson is indeed handled with some +severity. His language is criticised, and his logic +is proved fallacious. Much the largest part of the +review is, however, devoted to a refutation of his +philosophy and doctrines. Now, as so large a part +of the "Letters" is pervaded with denunciations +of the bigotry which will not hear the other side of +a question, and filled with admiration of those who +prefer truth to the ties of kindred, friendship, and +old association, we should have thought that Miss +Martineau would rejoice in having a brother who +could say, "Amica Harriet, sed magis amica veritas." +Not at all. It was evident that he had said +nothing about herself at which she could take +offense; but in speaking against her new philosophy +and her new philosopher he had committed +the unpardonable sin. And Mrs. Chapman allows +herself to regard it as a natural inference that +this honest and manly review resulted from "masculine +terror, fraternal jealousy of superiority, with +a sectarian and provincial impulse to pull down +and crush a world-wide celebrity." She considers +it "incomprehensible in an advocate of free +thought" that he should express his thoughts +freely in opposition to a book which argued +against all possible knowledge of God and against +all faith in a future life. It is, however, only just +to Miss Martineau to say that she herself has +brought no such charges against her brother, but +left the matter in silence. We cannot but think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span> +that it would have been better for Miss Martineau's +reputation if her biographer had followed +her example.</p> + +<p>But, though we must object to Mrs. Chapman's +views on this point, and on some others, we must +add that her part of the second volume is prepared +with much ability, and is evidently the result of +diligent and loyal friendship. Miss Martineau +could not have selected a more faithful friend to +whom to confide the history of her life. On two +subjects, however, we are obliged to dissent from +her statements. One is in regard to Dr. Channing, +whom she, for some unknown reason, systematically +disparages. He was a good man, Mrs. +Chapman admits, "but not in any sense a great +one. With benevolent intentions, he could not +greatly help the nineteenth century, for he knew +very little about it, or, indeed, of any other. He +had neither insight, courage, nor firmness. In his +own Church had sprung up a vigorous opposition +to slavery, which he innocently, in so far as ignorantly, +used the little strength he had to stay." +Certainly it is not necessary to defend the memory +of Dr. Channing against such a supercilious judgment +as this. But we might well ask why, if he is +not a great man, and did not help the nineteenth +century, his works should continue to be circulated +all over Europe? Why should such men in +France as Laboulaye and Rémusat occupy themselves +in translating and diffusing them? Why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span> +should Bunsen class him among the five prophets +of the Divine Consciousness in Human History,—speaking +of "his fearless speech," his "unfailing +good sense," and "his grandeur of soul, which +makes him a prophet of the Christianity of the +Future"? Bunsen calls him a Greek in his +manly nature, a Roman in his civic qualities, and +an apostle in his Christianity. And was that man +deficient in courage or firmness who never faltered +in the support of any opinions, however unpopular, +whether it was to defend Unitarianism in its +weak beginnings, to appear in Faneuil Hall as +the leader against the defenders of the Alton mob, +to head the petition for the pardon of Abner +Kneeland, and to lay on the altar of antislavery +the fame acquired by past labors? Is he to be +accused of repressing the antislavery movement +in his own church, when there is on record the +letter in which he advocated giving the use of the +church building to the society represented by Mrs. +Chapman herself; and when the men of influence +in his society refused it? Nor, in those days of +their unpopularity, did Mrs. Chapman and her +friends count Dr. Channing's aid so insignificant. +In her article on "The Martyr Age," Miss Martineau +describes the profound impression caused by +Dr. Channing's sudden appearance in the State +House to give his countenance and aid to Garrison +and the Abolitionists, in what, she says, was a +matter to them of life and death. And she adds,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span> +"He was thenceforth considered by the world an +accession to their principles, though not to their +organized body."</p> + +<p>Nor do we quite understand Mrs. Chapman's +giving to Miss Martineau the credit of being the +cause of the petition for the pardon of Abner +Kneeland; as his conviction, and the consequent +petition, did not take place until she had been +nearly two years out of the country. And why +does Mrs. Chapman select for special contempt, as +unfaithful to their duty to mankind, the Unitarian +ministers? Why does she speak of "the cowardly +ranks of American Unitarians" with such peculiar +emphasis? It is not our business here to defend +this denomination; but we cannot but recall the +"Protest against American Slavery" prepared and +signed in 1845 by one hundred and seventy-three +Unitarian ministers, out of a body containing not +more than two hundred and fifty in all. And it +was this body which furnished to the cause some +of its most honored members. Of those who have +belonged to the Unitarian body, we now recall the +names of such persons as Samuel J. May, Samuel +May, Josiah Quincy, John Quincy Adams, John +Pierpont, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray Loring, John +G. Palfrey, John P. Hale, Dr. and Mrs. Follen, +Theodore Parker, John Parkman, John T. Sargent, +James Russell Lowell, Wm. H. Furness, +Charles Sumner, Caleb Stetson, John A. Andrew, +Lydia Maria Child, Dr. S. G. Howe, Horace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span> +Mann, T. W. Higginson. So much for the "cowardly +ranks of American Unitarians."</p> + +<p>The last years of Miss Martineau were happy +and peaceful. She had a pleasant home at Ambleside, +on Lake Windermere. She had many +friends, was conscious of having done a good work, +and if she had no hopes in the hereafter, neither +had she any fears concerning it. She was a +strong, upright, true-hearted woman; one of those +who have helped to vindicate "the right of women +to learn the alphabet."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span></p> + +<h2 title="THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA"><a id="RISE">THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA</a><a name="FNanchor_48" id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">48</a></h2> + +<p>On the first day of January, 1832, when the +American Antislavery Society was formed in the +office of Samuel E. Sewall in Boston, the abolition +of slavery through any such agency seemed impossible. +Almost all the great interests of the country +were combined to defend and sustain the system. +The capital invested in slaves amounted to at least +one thousand millions of dollars. This vast pecuniary +interest was rapidly increasing by the growing +demand for the cotton crop of the Southern States—a +demand which continually overlapped the supply. +The whole political power of the thirteen +slave States was in the hands of the slaveholders. +No white man in the South, unless he was a slaveholder, +was ever elected to Congress, or to any important +political position at home. The two great +parties, Whig and Democrat, were pledged to the +support of slavery in all its constitutional rights, +and vied with each other in giving to these the +largest interpretation. By a constitutional provision, +which could not be altered, the slave States<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span> +had in Congress, in 1840, twenty-five more Representatives +in proportion to their number of voters +than the free States. By the cohesion of this great +political and pecuniary interest the slaveholders, +though comparatively few in number, were able to +govern the nation. The Presidents, both houses of +Congress, the Supreme Court of the United States, +the two great political parties, the press of the +country, the mercantile interest, and that mysterious +force which we call society, were virtually in +the hands of the slaveholders. Whenever their +privileges were attacked, all these powers rallied +to their defense. Public opinion, in the highest +circles of society and in the lowest, was perfectly +agreed on this one question. The saloons of the +Fifth Avenue and the mob of the Five Points were +equally loyal to the sacred cause of slavery. Thus +all the great powers which control free states were +combined for its defense; and the attempt to assail +this institution might justly be regarded as +madness. In fact, all danger seemed so remote, +that even so late as 1840 it was common for slaveholders +to admit that property in man was an absurdity +and an injustice. The system itself was so +secure, that they could afford to concede its principle +to their opponents. Just as men formerly +fought duels as a matter of course, while frankly +admitting that it was wrong to do so,—just as at +the present time we concede that war is absurd and +unchristian, but yet go to war continually, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> +we know no other way of settling international disputes,—so +the slaveholders used to say, "Slavery +is wrong; we know that: but how is it to be abolished? +What can we do about it?"</p> + +<p>Such was the state of things in the United States +less than half a century ago. On one side was an +enormous pecuniary interest, vast political power, +the weight of the press, an almost unanimous public +opinion, the necessities of commerce, the authority +of fashion, the teachings of nearly every +denomination in the Christian church, and the +moral obligations attributed to the sacred covenants +of the fathers of the Republic. On the other +side there were only a few voices crying in the wilderness, +"It is unjust to claim property in man." +The object of the work before us is to show how, +after the slave power had reached this summit of +influence, it lost it all in a single generation; how, +less by the zeal of its opponents than by the madness +of its defenders, this enormous fabric of oppression +was undermined and overthrown; and +how, in a few years, the insignificant handful of +antislavery people brought to their side the great +majority of the nation.</p> + +<p>Certainly a work which should do justice to such +a history would be one of the most interesting +books ever written. For in this series of events +everything was involved which touches most nearly +the mind, the conscience, the imagination, and the +heart of man. How many radical problems in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span> +statesmanship, in political economy, in ethics, in +philosophy, in theology, in history, in science, came +up for discussion during this long controversy! +What pathetic stories of suffering, what separation +of families, what tales of torture, what cruelty +grown into a custom, what awful depths of misery, +came continually to light, as though the judgment-day +were beginning to dawn on the dark places of +the earth! What romances of adventure, what +stories of courage and endurance, of ingenuity in +contrivance, of determination of soul, were listened +to by breathless audiences as related by the humble +lips of the fugitives from bondage! How trite +and meagre became all the commonplaces of oratory +before the flaming eloquence of these terrible +facts! How tame grew all the conventional +rhetoric of pulpit and platform, by the side of +speech vitalized by the immediate presence of this +majestic argument! The book which should reproduce +the antislavery history of those thirty years +would possess an unimagined charm.</p> + +<p>We cannot say that Mr. Wilson's volumes do all +this, nor had we any right to expect it. He proposes +to himself nothing of the sort. What he +gives us is, however, of very great value. It is a +very carefully collected, clearly arranged, and accurate +account of the rise and progress, decline and +catastrophe, of slavery in the United States. Mr. +Wilson does not attempt to be philosophical like +Bancroft and Draper; nor are his pages as picturesque<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span> +as are those of Motley and Carlyle. He +tells us a plain unvarnished tale, the interest of +which is to be found in the statement of the facts +exactly as they occurred. Considering that it is a +story of events all of which he saw and a large part +of which he was, there is a singular absence of prejudice. +He is no man's enemy. He has passed +through the fire, and there is no smell of smoke on +his garments. An intelligent indignation against +the crimes committed in defense of the system he +describes pervades his narrative. His impartiality +is not indifference, but an absence of personal rancor. +Individuals and their conduct are criticised +only so far as is necessary to make clear the course +of events and the condition of public feeling. The +defenders of slavery at the North and South are +regarded not as bad men, but as the outcome of a +bad system.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilson's book is a treasury of facts, and +will never be superseded so far as this peculiar +value is concerned. In this respect it somewhat +resembles Hildreth's "History of the United +States." Taking little space for speculation, comment, +or picturesque coloring, there is all the more +room left for the steady flow of the narrative.</p> + +<p>With a few unimportant omissions, the two volumes +now published contain a full history of slavery +and antislavery from the Ordinance of 1787 +and the compromises of the Constitution down to +the election of Lincoln and the outbreak of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span> +civil war. As a work of reference they are invaluble, +for each event in the long struggle for freedom +is distinctly and accurately told, while the calm +story advances through its various stages. Instead +of following this narrative in detail, which our space +will not allow, we prefer to call our readers' attention +to some of the more striking incidents of this +great revolution.</p> + +<p>Our fathers, when they founded the nation, had +little thought that slavery was ever to attain such +vast extension. They supposed that it would gradually +die out from the South, as it had disappeared +from the North. Yet the whole danger to their +work lay here. Slavery, if anything, was the +wedge which was to split the Union asunder. +When the Constitution was formed, in 1787, the +slaveholders, by dint of great effort, succeeded in +getting the little end of the wedge inserted. It +was very narrow, a mere sharp line, and it went in +only a very little way; so it seemed to be nothing +at all. The slaveholders at that time did not contend +that slavery was right or good. They admitted +that it was a political evil. They confessed, +many of them, that it was a moral evil. All the +great Southern revolutionary bodies had accustomed +themselves to believe in the rights of man, +in the principles of humanity, in the blessings of +liberty; and they could not <em>defend</em> slavery. Mason +of Virginia, in the debates in the Federal Convention, +denounced slavery and the slave-trade.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span> +"The evil of slavery," said he, "affects the whole +Union. Slavery discourages arts and manufactures. +The poor despise labor when done by +slaves. They prevent the immigration of whites, +who really enrich a country. They produce the +most pernicious effects on the manners. Every master +of slaves is born a petty tyrant. They bring the +judgment of Heaven on a country." Williamson +of North Carolina declared himself in principle +and practice opposed to slavery. Madison "thought +it wrong to admit in the Constitution the idea that +there could be property in man." But the extreme +Southern States, South Carolina and Georgia, insisted +on the right of importing slaves, at least for +a little while; and so they were allowed to import +them for twenty years. They also insisted on having +their slaves represented by themselves in Congress, +and so they were allowed to count three +fifths of the slaves in determining the ratio. This +seemed a small thing, but it was the entering of +the wedge. It was tolerating the principle of slavery; +not admitting it, but tolerating it. At the +same time that this Convention was forming, the +Federal Constitution Congress was prohibiting +slavery in all the territory northwest of the Ohio. +This prohibition of slavery was adopted by the +unanimous votes of the eight States present, including +Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia. Two +years later it was recognized and confirmed by the +first Congress under the Constitution. Jefferson,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span> +a commissioner to revise the statute law of Virginia, +prepared a bill for gradual emancipation in +that State. In 1790 a petition was presented to +Congress, signed by Benjamin Franklin, the last +public act of his life, declaring equal liberty to be +the birthright of all, and asking Congress to "devise +means for restoring liberty to the slaves, and +so removing this inconsistency from the character +of the American people." In 1804 the people of +Virginia petitioned Congress to have the Ordinance +of 1787 suspended, that they might hold slaves; +but a committee of Congress, of which John Randolph +of Virginia was chairman, reported that it +would be "highly dangerous and inexpedient to +impair a provision wisely calculated to promote the +happiness and prosperity of the Northwest Territory."</p> + +<p>But in 1820 the first heavy blow came on the +wedge to drive it into the log. The Union is a +tough log, and the wedge could be driven a good +way in without splitting it; but the first blow +which drove it in was the adopting the Missouri +Compromise, allowing slavery to come North and +take possession of Missouri.</p> + +<p>The thirty years of prosperity which had followed +the adoption of the Constitution had changed +the feelings of men both North and South. The +ideas of the Revolution had receded into the background; +the thirst for wealth and power had taken +their place. So the Southern States, which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span> +cordially agreed thirty years before to prohibit the +extension of slavery, and had readily admitted it +to be a political evil, now demanded as a right the +privilege of carrying slaves into Missouri. They +threatened to dissolve the Union, talked of a fire +only to be extinguished by seas of blood, and proposed +to hang a member from New Hampshire +who spoke of liberty. Some of the Northern men +were not frightened by these threats, and valued +them at their real worth. But we know that the +result was a compromise. Slavery was to take +possession of Missouri, on condition that no other +State as far north as Missouri should be slave-holding. +Slavery was to be excluded from the +rest of the territory forever. This bargain was +applauded and justified by Southern politicians +and newspapers as a great triumph on their part; +and it was. That fatal compromise was a surrender +of principle for the sake of peace, bartering +conscience for quiet; and we were soon to reap the +bitter fruits.</p> + +<p>Face to face, in deadly opposition, each determined +on the total destruction of his antagonist, +stood this Goliath of the slave power and the little +David of antislavery, at the beginning of the ten +years which extended from 1830 to 1840. The +giant was ultimately to fall from the wounds of +his minute opponent, but not during this decade +or the next. For many years each of the parties +was growing stronger, and the fight was growing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span> +fiercer. Organization on the one side was continually +becoming more powerful; enthusiasm on the +other continually built up a more determined opinion. +The slave power won repeated victories; but +every victory increased the number and ardor of +its opponents.</p> + +<p>The first attempt to destroy antislavery principles +was by means of mobs. Mobs seldom take +place in a community unless where the upper stratum +of society and the lower are in sympathetic +opposition to some struggling minority. Then the +lower class takes its convictions from the higher, +and regards itself as the hand executing what the +head thinks ought to be done. Respectability denounces +the victim, and the rabble hastens to take +vengeance on him. Even a mob cannot act efficiently +unless inspired by ideas; and these it must +receive from some higher source. So it was when +Priestley was mobbed at Birmingham; so it was +when Wesley and his friends were mobbed in all +parts of England. So it was also in America when +the office of the "Philanthropist" was destroyed +in Cincinnati; when halls and churches were +burned in Philadelphia; when Miss Crandall was +mobbed in Connecticut; when Lovejoy was killed +at Alton. Antislavery meetings were so often invaded +by rioters, that on one occasion Stephen +S. Foster is reported to have declared that the +speakers were not doing their duty, because the +people listened so quietly. "If we were doing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span> +our duty," said he, "they would be throwing brick-bats +at us."</p> + +<p>These demonstrations only roused and intensified +the ardor of the Abolitionists, while bringing +to their side those who loved fair play, and those +in whom the element of battle was strong. Mobs +also were an excellent advertisement for the Antislavery +Society; and this is what every new cause +needs most for its extension. Every time that one +of their meetings was violently broken up, every +time that any outrage or injury was offered to the +Abolitionists, all the newspapers in the land gave +them a gratuitous advertisement by conspicuous +notices of the event. So the public mind was directed +to the question, and curiosity was excited. +The antislavery conventions were more crowded +from day to day, their journals were more in demand, +and their plans and opinions became the +subject of conversation everywhere.</p> + +<p>And certainly there could be no more interesting +place to visit than one of these meetings of the +Antislavery Society. With untiring assiduity the +Abolitionists brought to their platform everything +which could excite and impress their audience. +Their orators were of every kind,—rough men +and shrill-voiced women, polished speakers from +the universities, stammering fugitives from slavery, +philosophers and fanatics, atheists and Christian +ministers, wise men who had been made mad by +oppression, and babes in intellect to whom God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span> +had revealed some of the noblest truths. They +murdered the King's English, they uttered glaring +fallacies, the blows aimed at evildoers often glanced +aside and hit good men. Invective was, perhaps, +the too frequent staple of their argument, and any +difference of opinion would be apt to turn their +weapons against each other. This church-militant +often became a church-termagant. Yet, after all +such abatement for errors of judgment or bad taste, +their meetings were a splendid arena on which was +fought one of the greatest battles for mankind. +The eloquence we heard there was not of the +schools, and had nothing artificial about it. It +followed the rule of Demosthenes, and was all directed +to action. Every word was a blow. There +was no respect for dignities or authorities. The +Constitution of the United States, the object of +such unfeigned idolatry to the average American, +was denounced as "a covenant with hell." The +great men of the nation, Webster, Clay, Jackson, +were usually selected as the objects of the severest +censure. The rule was to strike at the heads +which rose above the crowd, as deserving the +sternest condemnation. Presidents and governors, +heads of universities, eminent divines, great +churches and denominations, were convicted as +traitors to the right, or held up to unsparing ridicule. +No conventional proprieties were regarded +in the terrible earnestness of this enraged speech. +It was like the lava pouring from the depths of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span> +the earth, and melting the very rocks which opposed +its resistless course.</p> + +<p>Of course this fierce attack roused as fierce a +defense. One extreme generated the other. The +cry for "immediate abolition" was answered by +labored defenses of slavery itself. Formerly its +advocates only excused it as a necessary evil; now +they began to defend it as a positive good. Then +was seen the lamentable sight of Christian ministers +and respected divines hurrying to the support +of the "sum of all villanies." The Episcopal +bishop of a New England State defended with +ardor the system of slavery as an institution supported +by the Bible and commanded by God himself. +The president of a New England college +declared slavery to be a positive institution of +revealed religion, and not inconsistent with the +law of love. The minister of a Boston church, +going to the South for his health, amused his +leisure by writing a book on slavery, in which it is +made to appear as a rose-colored and delightful +institution, and its opposers are severely censured. +One of the most learned professors in a Massachusetts +theological school composed a treatise to +refute the heresy of the higher law, and to maintain +the duty of returning fugitive slaves to bondage. +Under such guidance it was natural that the +churches should generally stand aloof from the +Abolitionists and condemn their course. It was +equally natural that the Abolitionists should then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span> +denounce the churches as the bulwark of slavery. +Nevertheless, from the Christian body came most +of those who devoted their lives to the extirpation +of this great evil and iniquity. And Mr. Garrison, +at least, always maintained that his converts +were most likely to be made among those whose +consciences had been educated by the Church and +the Bible.</p> + +<p>From public meetings in the North, the conflict +of ideas next extended itself to the floor of Congress, +where it continued to rage during nearly thirty +years, until "the war of tongue and pen" changed +to that of charging squadrons, the storm of shot +and the roll of cannon. The question found its +way into the debates of Congress in the form of +petitions for the abolition of slavery and the slave-trade +in the District of Columbia. If the slaveholders +had allowed these petitions to be received +and referred, taking no notice of them, it seems +probable that no important results would have +followed. But, blinded by rage and fear, they +opposed their reception, thus denying a privilege +belonging to all mankind,—that of asking the +government to redress their grievances. Then +came to the front a man already eminent by his +descent, his great attainments, his long public +service, his great position, and his commanding +ability. John Quincy Adams, after having been +President of the United States, accepted a seat in +the House of Representatives, and was one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span> +most laborious and useful of its members. He +was not then an Abolitionist, nor in favor even of +abolishing slavery in the District of Columbia. +But he believed that the people had the right to +petition the government for anything they desired, +and that their respectful petitions should be respectfully +received. Sixty-five years old in 1832, +when he began this conflict, his warfare with the +slave power ended only when, struck with death +while in his seat, he saw the last of earth and was +content. With what energy, what dauntless courage, +what untiring industry, what matchless powers +of argument, what inexhaustible resources of knowledge, +he pursued his object, the future historian +of the struggle who can fully paint what Mr. +Wilson is only able to indicate, will take pleasure +in describing. One scene will remain forever memorable +as one of the most striking triumphs of +human oratory; and this we must describe a little +more fully.</p> + +<p>February 6, 1837, being the day for presenting +petitions, Mr. Adams had already presented +several petitions for the abolition of slavery in the +District of Columbia (a measure to which he was +himself then opposed), when he proceeded to <span class="locked">state<a name="FNanchor_49" id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">49</a></span> +that he had in his possession a paper upon which +he wished the decision of the Speaker. The paper, +he said, came from twenty persons declaring themselves +to be slaves. He wished to know whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span> +the Speaker would consider this paper as coming +under the rule of the <span class="locked">House.<a name="FNanchor_50" id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">50</a></span> The Chair said he +would take the advice of the House on that question. +And thereupon began a storm of indignation +which raged around Mr. Adams during four +<span class="locked">days.<a name="FNanchor_51" id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">51</a></span> Considering that the House had ordered, +less than three weeks before, that all papers relating +<em>in any way</em> to slavery should be laid on the +table without any action being taken on them, this +four days' discussion about such a paper, ending +in the passing of several resolutions, was rather an +amusing illustration of the irrepressible character +of the antislavery movement. The Southern members +seemed at first astonished at what they hastily +assumed to be an attempt of Mr. Adams to introduce +a petition from slaves. One moved that it +be not received. Another, indignant at such a +tame way of meeting the question, declared that +any one attempting to introduce such a petition +should be immediately punished; and if that was +not done at once, all the members from the slave +States should leave the House. Loud cries arose, +"Expel him! expel him!" Mr. Alfred declared +that the petition ought to be burned. Mr. Waddy +Thompson of South Carolina, who soon received a +castigation which he little anticipated, moved that +John Quincy Adams, having committed a gross<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span> +disrespect to the House in attempting to introduce +a petition from slaves, ought to be instantly +brought to the bar of the House to receive the +severe censure of the Speaker. Similar resolutions +were offered by Mr. Haynes and Mr. Lewis, +all assuming that Mr. Adams had attempted to +introduce this petition. He at last took the floor, +and said that he thought the time of the House +was being consumed needlessly, since all these +resolutions were founded on an error. He had +<em>not</em> attempted to present the petition,—he had +only asked the Speaker a question in regard to it. +He also advised the member from Alabama to +amend his resolution, which stated the petition to +be for the abolition of slavery in the District, +whereas it was the very reverse of that. It was a +petition for something which would be very objectionable +to himself, though it might be the very +thing for which the gentleman from Alabama was +contending. Then Mr. Adams sat down, leaving +his opponents more angry than ever, but somewhat +confused in their minds. They could not +very well censure him for doing what he had not +done, but they wished very much to censure him. +So Mr. Waddy Thompson modified his resolution, +making it state that Mr. Adams, "by creating the +impression, and leaving the House under the impression, +that the petition was for the abolition of +slavery," had trifled with the House, and should +receive its censure. After a multitude of other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span> +speeches from the enraged Southern chivalry, the +debate of the first day came to an end.</p> + +<p>On the next day (February 7), in reply to a +question, Mr. Adams stated again that he had not +attempted to present the petition, though his own +feelings would have led him to do so, but had kept +it in his possession, out of respect to the House. +He had said nothing to lead the House to infer +that this petition was for the abolition of slavery. +He should consider before presenting a petition +from slaves; though, in his opinion, slaves had a +right to petition, and the mere fact of a petition +being from slaves would not of itself prevent him +from presenting it. If the petition were a proper +one, he should present it. A petition was a +prayer, a supplication to a superior being. Slaves +might pray to God; was this House so superior +that it could not condescend to hear a prayer from +those to whom the Almighty listened? He ended +by saying that, in asking the question of the +Speaker, he had intended to show the greatest +respect to the House, and had not the least purpose +of trifling with it.</p> + +<p>These brief remarks of Mr. Adams made it +necessary for the slaveholders again to change +their tactics. Mr. Dromgoole of Virginia now +brought forward his famous resolution, which Mr. +Adams afterwards made so ridiculous, accusing +him of having "given color to an idea" that +slaves had a right to petition, and that he should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span> +be censured by the Speaker for this act. Another +member proposed, rather late in the day, that a +committee be appointed to inquire whether any +attempt had been made, or not, to offer a petition +from slaves. Another offered a series of resolutions, +declaring that if any one "hereafter" should +offer petitions from slaves he ought to be regarded +as an enemy of the South, and of the Union; but +that "as John Quincy Adams had stated that he +meant no disrespect to the House, that all proceedings +as to his conduct should now cease." And +so, after many other speeches, the second day's +debate came to an end.</p> + +<p>The next day was set apart to count the votes +for President, and so the debate was resumed +February 9. It soon become more confused than +ever. Motions were made to lay the resolutions +on the table; they were withdrawn; they were +renewed; they were voted down; and, finally, +after much discussion, and when at last the final +question was about being taken, Mr. Adams inquired +whether he was to be allowed to be heard +in his own defense before being condemned. So +he obtained the floor, and immediately the whole +aspect of the case was changed. During three +days he had been the prisoner at the bar; suddenly +he became the judge on the bench. Never, +in the history of forensic eloquence, has a single +speech effected a greater change in the purpose of +a deliberative assembly. Often as the Horatian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span> +description has been quoted of the just man, tenacious +of his purpose, who fears not the rage of citizens +clamoring for what is wrong, it has never +found a fitter application than to the unshaken +mind of John Quincy Adams, standing alone, in +the midst of his antagonists, like a solid monument +which the idle storms beat against in vain.</p> + +<p>He began by saying that he had been waiting +during these three days for an answer to the question +which he had put to the Speaker, and which +the Speaker had put to the House, but which the +House had not yet answered, namely, whether the +paper he held in his hand came under the rule of +the House or not. They had discussed everything +else, but had not answered that question. +They had wasted the time of the House in considering +how they could censure him for doing what +he had not done. All he wished to know was, +whether a petition from slaves should be received +or not. He himself thought that it ought to be +received; but if the House decided otherwise, he +should not present it. Only one gentleman had +undertaken to discuss that question, and his argument +was, that if slavery was abolished by Congress +in any State, the Constitution was violated; +and, <em>therefore</em>, slaves ought not to be allowed to +petition for anything. He, Mr. Adams, was unable +to see the connection between the premises +and the conclusion.</p> + +<p>Hereupon poor Mr. French, the author of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span> +argument, tried to explain what he meant by it, +but left his meaning as confused as before.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Adams added, that if you deprived +any one in the community of the right of petition, +which was only the right of offering a prayer, you +would find it difficult to know where to stop; one +gentleman had objected to the reception of one +petition, because offered by women of a bad character. +Mr. Patton of Virginia says he <em>knows</em> that +one of the names is of a woman of a bad character. +<em>How does he know it?</em></p> + +<p>Hereupon Mr. Patton explained that he did not +himself know the woman, but had been told that +her character was not good.</p> + +<p>So, said Mr. Adams, you first deny the right of +petition to slaves, then to free people of color, and +then you inquire into the moral character of a petitioner +before you receive his petition. The next +step will be to inquire into the political belief of +the petitioners before you receive your petition. +Mr. Robertson of Virginia had said that no petitions +ought to be received for an object which Congress +had no power to grant. Mr. Adams replied, +with much acuteness, that on most questions the +right of granting the petition might be in doubt: +a majority must decide that point; it would therefore +follow, from Mr. Robertson's rule, that no one +had a right to petition unless he belonged to the +predominant party. Mr. Adams then turned to +Mr. Dromgoole, who had charged him with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">333</a></span> +remarkable crime of "giving color to an idea," and +soon made that Representative of the Old Dominion +appear very ridiculous.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adams then proceeded to rebuke, with dignity +but severity, the conduct of those who had +proposed to censure him without any correct knowledge +of the facts of the case. His criticisms had +the effect of compelling these gentlemen to excuse +themselves and to offer various explanations of +their mistakes. These assailants suddenly found +themselves in an attitude of self-defense. Mr. +Adams graciously accepted their explanations, advising +them in future to be careful when they +undertook to offer resolutions of censure. He +then informed Mr. Waddy Thompson of South +Carolina that he had one or two questions to put +to him. By this time it had become a pretty +serious business to receive the attentions of Mr. +Adams; and Mr. Waddy Thompson immediately +rose to explain. But Mr. Adams asked him to +wait until he had fully stated the question which +Mr. Thompson was to answer. This Southern +statesman had threatened the ex-President of the +United States with an indictment by the grand +jury of the District for words spoken in debate in +the House of Representatives, and had added that, +if the petition was presented, Mr. Adams would be +sent to the penitentiary. "Sir," said Mr. Adams, +"the only answer I make to such a threat from +that gentleman is, to invite him, when he returns<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">334</a></span> +to his constituents, to study a little the first principles +of civil liberty." He then called on the +gentlemen from the slave States to say how many +of them indorsed that sentiment. "<em>I</em> do not," said +Mr. Underwood of Kentucky. "<em>I</em> do not," said +Mr. Wise of Virginia. Mr. Thompson was compelled +to attempt another explanation, and said +he meant that, in <em>South Carolina</em>, any member +of the legislature who should present a petition +from slaves could be indicted. "Then," replied +Mr. Adams, and this produced a great sensation, +"if it is the law of South Carolina that members +of her Legislature may be indicted by juries for +words spoken in debate, God Almighty receive my +thanks that I am not a citizen of South Carolina."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adams ended his speech by declaring that +the honor of the House of Representatives was +always regarded by him as a sacred sentiment, and +that he should feel a censure from that House as +the heaviest misfortune of a long life, checkered +as it had been by many vicissitudes.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Adams began his defense, not only +was a large majority of the House opposed to his +course, but they had brought themselves by a series +of violent harangues into a condition of bitter excitement +against him. When he ended, the effect +of this extraordinary speech was such, that all the +resolutions were rejected, and out of the whole +House only twenty-two members could be found +to pass a vote of even indirect censure. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">335</a></span> +victory was won, and won by Mr. Adams almost +single-handed. We count Horatius Cocles a hero +for holding the Roman bridge against a host of +enemies; but greater honors belong to him who +successfully defends against overwhelming numbers +the ancient safeguards of public liberty. For +this reason we have repeated here at such length +the story of three days, which the people of the +United States ought always to remember. It took +ten years to accomplish the actual repeal of these +gag-laws. But the main work was done when the +right of speech was obtained for the friends of +freedom in Congress; and John Quincy Adams +was the great leader in this warfare. He was +joined on that arena by other noble champions,—Giddings, +Mann, Palfrey, John P. Hale, Chase, +Seward, Slade of Vermont, Julian of Indiana. +Others no less devoted followed them, among +whom came from Massachusetts Charles Sumner +and Henry Wilson, the author of the present +work. What he cannot properly say of himself +should be said for him. Though an accomplished +and eager politician, Henry Wilson has never sacrificed +any great principle for the sake of political +success. His services to the antislavery cause +have been invaluable, his labors in that cause unremitting. +Personal feelings and personal interests +he has been ready to sacrifice for the sake of +the cause. Loyal to his friends, he has not been +bitter to his opponents; and if any man who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span> +fought through that long struggle were to be its +historian, no one will deny the claims of Mr. Wilson +to that honor.</p> + +<p>Under the lead of John Quincy Adams, the +power to discuss the whole subject of slavery in +the National Legislature was won, and never again +lost. This was the second triumph of the antislavery +movement; its first was the power won by +Garrison and his friends of discussing the subject +before the people. The wolfish mob in the cities +and in Congress might continue to howl, but it had +lost its claws and teeth. But now came the first +great triumph of the slave power, in the annexation +of Texas. This was a cruel blow to the +friends of freedom. It was more serious because +the motive of annexation was openly announced, +and the issue distinctly presented in the Presidential +election. Mr. Upshur, Tyler's Secretary of +State, in an official dispatch, declared that the +annexation of Texas was necessary to secure the +institution of slavery. The Democratic Convention +which nominated Mr. Polk for the Presidency +deliberately made the annexation of Texas +the leading feature of its platform. Nor was the +slave power in this movement opposed merely by +the antislavery feeling of the country. Southern +senators helped to defeat the measure when first +presented in the form of a treaty by Mr. Tyler's +administration. Nearly the whole Whig party +was opposed to it. The candidate of the Whigs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">337</a></span> +Henry Clay, had publicly declared that annexation +would be a great evil to the nation. Twenty +members of Congress, with John Quincy Adams at +their head, had proclaimed in an address to their +constituents that it would be equivalent to a dissolution +of the Union. Dr. Channing, in 1838, had +said that it would be better for the nation to perish +than to commit such an outrageous wrong. +Edward Everett, in 1837, spoke of annexation as +"an enormous crime." Whig and Democratic +legislatures had repeatedly denounced it. In 1843, +when the Democrats had a majority in the Massachusetts +legislature, they resolved that "under no +circumstances whatever" could the people of Massachusetts +approve of annexation. Martin Van +Buren opposed it as unjust to Mexico. Senator +Benton, though previously in favor of the measure, +in a speech in Missouri declared that the +object of those who were favoring the scheme was +to dissolve the Union, though he afterward came +again to its support. And yet when the Presidential +campaign was in progress, a Democratic torchlight +procession miles long was seen marching +through the streets of Boston, and flaunting the +lone star of Texas along its whole line. And when +Polk was elected, and the decision of the nation +virtually given for this scheme, it seemed almost +hopeless to contend longer against such a triumph +of slavery. If the people of the North could submit +to this outrage, it appeared as if they could +submit to anything.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338</a></span> +Such, however, was not the case. On one side +the slave power was greatly strengthened by the +admission of Texas to the Union as a slave State; +but, on the other hand, there came a large accession +to the antislavery body. And this continued +to be the case during many years. The slave +power won a succession of political victories, each +of which was a moral victory to its opponents. +Many who were not converted to antislavery by +the annexation of Texas in 1845 were brought over +by the defeat of the Wilmot Proviso and the passage +of the Fugitive Slave Law in 1850. Many +who were not alarmed by these successes of slavery +were convinced of the danger when they beheld the +actual working of the Fugitive Slave Act. How +many Boston gentlemen, before opposed to the +Abolitionists, were brought suddenly to their side +when they saw the Court House in chains, and were +prevented by soldiers guarding Anthony Burns +from going to their banks or insurance offices in +State Street! All those bitter hours of defeat and +disaster planted the seeds of a greater harvest for +freedom. Others who remained insensible to the +disgrace of the slave laws of 1850 were recruited +to the ranks of freedom by the repeal of the Missouri +Compromise in 1854. This last act, Mr. +Wilson justly says, did more than any other to +arouse the North, and convince it of the desperate +encroachments of slavery. Men who tamely acquiesced +in <em>this</em> great wrong were startled into moral<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">339</a></span> +life by the murderous assault on Charles Sumner +by Preston Brooks in 1856. Those who could submit +to this were roused by the border ruffians from +Missouri who invaded Kansas, and made the proslavery +Constitution for that State. The Dred +Scott decision in 1857, which declared slavery to +be no local institution, limited to a single part of +the land, but having a right to exist in the free +States under the Constitution, alarmed even those +who had been insensible to the previous aggressions +of slavery. This series of political successes +of the slave power was appalling. Every principle +of liberty, every restraint on despotism, was overthrown +in succession, until the whole power of the +nation had fallen into the hands of an oligarchy of +between three and four hundred thousand slaveholders. +But every one of their political victories +was a moral defeat; every access to their strength +as an organization added an immense force to the +public opinion opposed to them; and each of their +successes was responded to by some advance of the +antislavery movement. The annexation of Texas +in 1845 was answered by the appearance of John +P. Hale, in 1847, in the United States Senate,—the +first man who was elected to that body on distinctly +antislavery grounds and independent of +either of the great parties. The response to the +defeat of the Wilmot Proviso and passage of the +Fugitive Slave Law in 1850 was the election of +Charles Sumner to the Senate in April, 1851, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">340</a></span> +the establishment of the underground railroad in +all the free States. When the South abrogated +the Missouri Compromise, the North replied by the +initiation of the Republican party. The Kansas +outrages gave to freedom John Brown of Osawatomie. +And the answer to the Dred Scott decision +was the nomination of Abraham Lincoln. Till +that moment the forces of freedom and slavery had +stood opposed, like two great armies, each receiving +constant recruits and an acccession of new +power. On one side, hitherto, had been all the +political triumphs, and on the other all the moral. +But with this first great political success of their +opponents the slave power became wholly demoralized, +gave up the conflict, threw away the results +of all its former victories, and abandoned the field +to its enemies, plunging into the dark abyss of secession +and civil war.</p> + +<p>And yet, what was the issue involved in that +election? It was simply whether slavery should +or should not be extended into new Territories. +All that the Republican party demanded was that +slavery should not be extended. It did not dream +of abolishing slavery in the slave States. We remember +how, long after the war began, we refused +to do this. The Southerners had every guaranty +they could desire that they should not be interfered +with at home. If they had gracefully acquiesced +in the decision of the majority, their institution +might have flourished for another century. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">341</a></span> +Fugitive Slave Law would have been repealed; or, +at all events, trial by jury would have been given +to the man claimed as a fugitive. But no attempt +would have been made by the Republican party to +interfere with slavery in the slave States, for that +party did not believe it had the right so to do.</p> + +<p>But, in truth, the course of the Southern leaders +illustrated in a striking way the distinction between +a politician and a statesman. They were very acute +politicians, trained in all the tactics of their art; +but they were poor statesmen, incapable of any +large strategic plan of action. As statesmen, they +should have made arrangements for the gradual +abolition of slavery, as an institution incapable of +sustaining itself in civilized countries in the nineteenth +century. Or, if they wished to maintain it +as long as possible, they ought to have seen that +this could only be accomplished by preserving the +support of the interests and the public opinion of +the North. Alliance with the Northern States was +their only security; and, therefore, they ought to +have kept the Northern conscience on their side by +a loyal adherence to all compacts and covenants. +Instead of this, they contrived to outrage, one by +one, every feeling of honor, every sentiment of +duty, and every vested right of the free States, +until, at last, it became plain to all that it was an +"irrepressible conflict," and must be settled definitely +either for slavery or for freedom. When +this point was reached by the American people,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">342</a></span> +they saw also that it could not be settled in favor +of slavery, for no concession would satisfy the slaveholders, +and no contract these might make could be +depended on. The North gave them, in 1850, the +Fugitive Slave Law for the sake of peace. Did it +gain peace? No. It relinquished, for the sake +of peace, the Wilmot Proviso. Was the South +satisfied? No. In 1853 Mr. Douglas offered it +the Nebraska Bill. Was it contented? By no +means. Mr. Pierce and Mr. Buchanan did their +best to give it Kansas. Did they content the South +by their efforts? No. Mr. Douglas, Mr. Pierce, +and Mr. Buchanan were all set aside by the South. +The Lecompton Bill was not enough. The Dred +Scott decision was not enough. The slaveholders +demanded that slavery should be established by a +positive act of Congress in all the Territories of +the Union. Even Judge Douglas shrank aghast +from the enterprise of giving them such a law as +that; and so Judge Douglas was immediately +thrown aside. Thus, by the folly of the Southern +leaders themselves, more than by the efforts of their +opponents, the majority was obtained by the Republicans +in the election of 1860.</p> + +<p>But during this conflict came many very dark +days for freedom. One of these was after the passage +of the Fugitive Slave Law in 1850. That law +was one of a series of compromises, intended to +make a final settlement of the question and to silence +all antislavery agitation. Although defended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</a></span> +by great lawyers, who thought it necessary to save +the Union, there is little doubt that it was as unconstitutional +as it was cruel. The Constitution +declares that "no person shall be deprived of his +liberty without due process of law," and also that +"in suits at common law, when the value in controversy +shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial +by jury shall be preserved." Anthony Burns was +in full possession of his liberty; he was a self-supporting, +tax-paying citizen of Massachusetts; and +in ten days, by the action of the Fugitive Slave +Law, he was turned into a slave under the decision +of a United States commissioner, without seeing a +judge or a jury. The passage of this law, and its +actual enforcement, caused great excitement among +the free colored people at the North, as well as +among the fugitives from slavery. No one was +safe. It was evident that it was meant to be enforced,—it +was not meant to be idle thunder. +But instead of discouraging the friends of freedom, +it roused them to greater activity. More fugitives +than ever came from the slave States, and the +underground railroad was in fuller activity than +before. The methods employed by fugitives to escape +were very various and ingenious. One man +was brought away in a packing-box. Another +clung to the lower side of the guard of a steamer, +washed by water at every roll of the vessel. One +well-known case was that of Ellen Crafts, who +came from Georgia disguised as a young Southern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">344</a></span> +gentleman, attended by her husband as body-servant. +She rode in the cars, sitting near Southerners +who knew her, but did not recognize her in +this costume, and at last arrived safe in Philadelphia. +In one instance a slave escaped from Kentucky, +with all his family, walking some distance +on stilts, in order to leave no scent for the pursuing +blood-hounds. When these poor people reached +the North, and told their stories on the antislavery +platform, they excited great sympathy, which was +not confined to professed antislavery people. A +United States commissioner, who might be called +on to return fugitives to bondage, frequently had +them concealed in his own house, by the action of +his wife, whose generous heart never wearied in +this work, and who was the means of saving many +from bondage. A Democratic United States marshal, +in Boston, whose duty it was to arrest fugitive +slaves, was in the habit of telling the slave-owner +who called on him for assistance that he "did not +know anything about niggers, but he would find +out where the man was from those who did." +Whereupon he would go directly to Mr. Garrison's +office and tell him he wanted to arrest such or such +a man, a fugitive from slavery. "But," said he, +"curiously enough, the next thing I heard would +be, that the fellow was in Canada." And when a +colored man was actually sent back to slavery, as +in the case of Burns, the event excited so much +sympathy with the fugitive, and so much horror of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">345</a></span> +the law, that its effects were disastrous to the slave +power. Thomas M. Simms was arrested in Boston +as a fugitive from slavery, April 3, 1851, and was +sent to slavery by the decision of George Ticknor +Curtis, a United States commissioner. The answer +to this act, by Massachusetts, was the election of +Charles Sumner, twenty-one days after, to the +United States Senate. Anthony Burns was returned +to slavery by order of Edward G. Loring, +in May, 1854; and Massachusetts responded by +removing him from his office as Judge of Probate, +and refusing his confirmation as a professor in Harvard +University.</p> + +<p>The passage of what were called the compromise +measures of 1850, including the Fugitive Slave +Law, had, it was fondly believed, put an end to the +whole antislavery agitation. The two great parties, +Whig and Democrat, had agreed that such should +be the case. The great leaders, Henry Clay and +Daniel Webster, Cass and Buchanan, were active +in calling on the people to subdue their prejudices +in favor of freedom. Southern fire-eaters, like +Toombs and Alexander Stephens, joined these +Union-savers, and became apostles of peace. Agitation +was the only evil, and agitation must now +come to an end. Public meetings were held in the +large cities,—one in Castle Garden in New York, +another in Faneuil Hall in Boston. In these meetings +the lion and the lamb lay down together. +Rufus Choate and Benjamin Hallet joined in demanding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">346</a></span> +that all antislavery agitation should now +cease. The church was called upon to assist in the +work of Union-saving, and many leading divines +lent their aid in this attempt to silence those who +desired that the oppressed should go free, and who +wished to break every yoke. Many seemed to suppose +that all antislavery agitation was definitely +suppressed. President Fillmore called the compromise +measures "a final adjustment." All the +powers which control human opinion—the two +great political parties, the secular and the religious +newspapers, the large churches and popular divines, +the merchants and lawyers—had agreed that the +antislavery agitation should now <span class="locked">cease.<a name="FNanchor_52" id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">52</a></span></p> + +<p>But just at that moment, when the darkness was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">347</a></span> +the deepest, and all the great powers in the church +and state had decreed that there should be no more +said concerning American slavery, the voice of a +woman broke the silence, and American slavery +became the one subject of discussion throughout +the world. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was written by +Mrs. Stowe for the "National Era," Dr. Bailey's +paper in Washington. It was intended to be a +short story, running through two or three numbers +of the journal, and she was to receive a hundred +dollars for writing it. But, as she wrote, the fire +burned in her soul, a great inspiration came over +her, and, not knowing what she was about to do, +she moved the hearts of two continents to their +very depths. After her story had appeared in the +newspaper, she offered it as a novel to several publishers, +who refused it. Accepted at last, it had a +circulation unprecedented in the annals of literature. +In eight weeks its sale had reached one hundred +thousand copies in the United States, while +in England a million copies were sold within the +year. On the European Continent the sale was +immense. A single publisher in Paris issued five +editions in a few weeks, and before the end of 1852 +it was translated into Italian, Spanish, Danish, +Swedish, Dutch, Flemish, German, Polish, and +Magyar. To these were afterward added translations +into Portuguese, Welsh, Russian, Arabic, and +many other languages. For a time, it stopped the +publication and sale of all other works; and within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">348</a></span> +a year or two from the day when the politicians +had decided that no more should be said concerning +American slavery, it had become the subject of +conversation and discussion among millions.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Tom's Cabin" was published in 1852. +Those were very dark hours in the great struggle +for freedom. Who that shared them can ever forget +the bitterness caused by the defection of Daniel +Webster, and his 7th of March speech in 1850; +by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law, which +made the whole area of the free States a hunting-ground +for the slaveholders; and by the rejection +of the Wilmot Proviso, which abandoned all the +new territory to slavery? This was followed by +the election of Franklin Pierce as President in +1852, on a platform in which the Democratic party +pledged itself to resist all agitation of the subject +of slavery in Congress or outside of it. And in +December, 1853, Stephen A. Douglas introduced +his Nebraska Bill, which repealed the Missouri +Compromise of 1820, and opened all the territory +heretofore secured to freedom to slaveholders and +their slaves. This offer on the part of Mr. Douglas +was a voluntary bid for the support of the slaveholders +in the next Presidential election. And in +spite of all protests from the North, all resistance +by Democrats as well as their opponents, all arguments +and appeals, this solemn agreement between +the North and the South was violated, and every +restriction on slavery removed. Nebraska and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">349</a></span> +Kansas were organized as Territories, and the +question of slavery left to local tribunals, or what +was called "squatter sovereignty."</p> + +<p>The passage of this measure showed the vast +political advance of the slave power in the country, +and how greatly it had corrupted the political conscience +of the nation. It also showed, to those +who had eyes, that slavery was the wedge which +was to split the Union asunder. But there were +in the North many persons who still thought that +danger to the Union came rather from the <em>discussion</em> +of slavery than from slavery itself. They supposed +that if all opposition to slavery should cease, +then there would be no more danger. The Abolitionists +were the cause of all the peril; and the +way to save the Union was to silence the Abolitionists. +That, however, had been tried ineffectually +when they were few and weak; and now it was +too late, as these Union-savers ought to have seen.</p> + +<p>Mr. Douglas and his supporters defended their +cause by maintaining that the Missouri Compromise +was not a contract, but a simple act of legislation, +and they tauntingly asked, "Why, since +antislavery men had always thought that Compromise +a bad thing, should they now object to its +being repealed?" Even this sophism had its +effect with some, who did not notice that Douglas's +resolutions only repealed that half of the Compromise +which was favorable to freedom, while +letting the other half remain. One part of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">350</a></span> +Act of 1820 was that Missouri should be admitted +as a slave State; the other part was that all the +rest of the Territory should be forever free. Only +the last part was now repealed. Missouri was left +in the Union as a slave State.</p> + +<p>The political advance now made by slavery will +appear from the following <span class="locked">facts:—</span></p> + +<p>In 1797 the slave power asked for only life; it +did not wish to extend itself; it united with the +North in prohibiting its own extension into the +Northwest Territory.</p> + +<p>In 1820 it did wish to extend itself; it refused +to be shut out of Missouri, but was willing that +the rest of the Territory should be always free.</p> + +<p>In 1845 it insisted on extending itself by annexing +Texas, but it admitted that it had no right to +go into any Territory as far north as Missouri.</p> + +<p>In 1850 it refused to be shut out of any of the +new territory, and resisted the Wilmot Proviso; +but still confessed that it had no right to go into +Kansas or Nebraska.</p> + +<p>Five years after, by the efforts of Stephen A. +Douglas and Franklin Pierce, it refused to be shut +out of Kansas, and repealed the part of the Missouri +Compromise which excluded it from that +region. But, in order to accomplish this repeal, it +took the plausible name of "popular sovereignty," +and claimed that the people should themselves +decide whether they would have a slave State or +a free State.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">351</a></span> +One additional step came. The people decided +or were about to decide for freedom; and then the +slave power set aside its own doctrine of popular +sovereignty and invaded the Territory with an +army of Missourians, chose a legislature for the +people of Kansas composed of Missourians, who +passed laws establishing slavery and punishing +with fine and imprisonment any who should even +speak against it.</p> + +<p>The people of Kansas refused to obey these +laws. They would have been slaves already if they +had obeyed them. Then their own governor, appointed +by our President, led an army of Missourians +to destroy their towns and plunder and +murder their people. Nothing was left them but +to resist. They did resist manfully but prudently, +and by a remarkable combination of courage and +caution the people of the little Free-State town of +Lawrence succeeded in saving themselves from this +danger without shedding a drop of blood. Men, +women, and children were animated by the same +heroic spirit. The women worked by the side of +the men. The men were placed on the outposts as +sentinels and ordered by their general not to fire +as long as they could possibly avoid it. And these +men stood on their posts, and allowed themselves +to be shot at by the invaders, and did not return +the fire. One man received two bullets through +his hat, and was ready to fire if the enemy came +nearer, but neither fired nor quitted his post.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">352</a></span> +The men were brave and obedient to orders; the +women were resolute, sagacious, and prudent. So +they escaped their first great danger.</p> + +<p>But slavery does not give up its point so easily +after one defeat. Preparations were made along +the Missouri frontier for another invasion, conducted +in a more military manner and by troops +under better discipline. The Free-State people of +Kansas were to be exterminated. From week to +week they were expecting an attack, and had to +watch continually against it. After having worked +all day the men were obliged to do military duty +and stand guard all night. Men who lived four +and five miles out from Lawrence got wood and +water for their wives in the morning, left them a +revolver with which to defend themselves, and +went to Lawrence to do military duty, returning +at night again.</p> + +<p>If we had a writer gifted with the genius of +Macaulay to describe the resistance of Kansas to +the Federal authorities on one side and the Missouri +invaders on the other, it would show as heroic +courage and endurance as are related in the brilliant +pages which tell of the defense of Londonderry. +The invaders were unscrupulous, knowing +that they had nothing to fear from the government +at Washington. Senator Atchison, formerly the +presiding officer of the United States Senate, +openly advised the people of Missouri to go and +vote in Kansas. General Stringfellow told them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">353</a></span> +to take their bowie-knives and exterminate every +scoundrel who was tainted with Free-soilism or +Abolitionism. The orders were obeyed. The first +legislature was elected by armed invaders from +Missouri, and Buford with a regiment of Southern +soldiers entered the Territory in 1856, and surrounded +Lawrence. These troops, under Atchison, +Buford, and Stringfellow, burned houses and +hotels, and stole much property. Osawatomie was +sacked and burned, Leavenworth invaded and +plundered, and Free-State men were killed. A +proslavery constitution formed by Missouri slaveholders +was forced through Congress, but rejected +by the people of Kansas, who at last gained possession +of their own State by indomitable courage and +patience. Four territorial governors, appointed by +the President, selected from the Democratic party +and favorable to the extension of slavery, were all +converted to the cause of freedom by the sight of +the outrages committed by the Missouri invaders.</p> + +<p>Amid this scene of tumult arose a warrior on +the side of freedom destined to take his place with +William Wallace and William Tell among the +few names of patriots which are never forgotten. +John Brown of Osawatomie was one of those +who, in these later days, have reproduced for us +the almost forgotten type of the Jewish hero and +prophet. He was a man who believed in a God of +justice, who believed in fighting fire with fire. He +was one who came in the spirit and power of Elijah,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">354</a></span> +an austere man, a man absorbed in his ideas, +fixed as fate in pursuing them. Yet his heart was +full of tenderness, he had no feeling of revenge +toward any, and he really lost his own life rather +than risk the lives of others. While in Kansas he +become a leader of men, a captain, equal to every +exigency. The ruffians from Missouri found to +their surprise that, before they could conquer Kansas, +they had some real fighting to do, and must +face Sharpe's rifles; and as soon as they understood +this, their zeal for their cause was very much +abated. In this struggle John Brown was being +educated for the last scene of his life, which has +lifted up his name, and placed it in that body +which Daniel O'Connell used to call "The order +of <span class="locked">Liberators."<a name="FNanchor_53" id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">53</a></span></p> + +<p>Out of these persecutions of Free-State men in +Kansas came the assault on Charles Sumner, for +words spoken in debate. Charles Sumner was +elected to the United States Senate in 1851. He +found in Congress some strong champions of freedom. +John Quincy Adams was gone; but Seward +was there, and Chase, and John P. Hale, in the +Senate; and Horace Mann, Giddings, and other +true men in the House. Henry Wilson himself, +always a loyal friend to Sumner, did not come till +1855. These men all differed from one another, +and each possessed special gifts for his arduous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">355</a></span> +work. They stood face to face with an imperious +majority, accustomed to rule. They had only imperfect +support at home,—people and press at +the North had been demoralized by slavery. They +must watch their words, be careful of what they +said, control their emotions, maintain an equal +temper. Something of the results of this discipline +we think we perceive in the calm tone of Mr. +Wilson's volumes, and the absence of passion in +his narration. These men must give no occasion +to the enemy to blaspheme, but be careful of their +lips and their lives. Their gifts, we have said, +were various. Seward was a politician, trained in +all the intricate ways of New York party struggles; +but he was also a thinker of no small power +of penetration. He could see principles, but was +too much disposed to sacrifice or postpone them to +some supposed exigency of the hour. In his orations, +when he spoke for mankind, his views were +large; but in his politics he sometimes gave up to +party his best-considered convictions. Thought +and action, he seemed to believe, belonged to two +spheres; in his thought he was often broader in +his range than any other senator, but in action he +was frequently tempted to temporize. Mr. Chase +was a man of a different sort. He had no disposition +to concede any of his views. A cautious man, +he moved slowly; but when he had taken his position, +he was not disposed to leave it. John P. +Hale was admirable in reply. His retorts were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">356</a></span> +rapid and keen, and yet were uttered so good-naturedly, +and with so much wit, that it was difficult +for his opponents to take offense. But +Charles Sumner was "the noblest Roman of them +all." With a more various culture, a higher tone +of moral sentiment, he was also a learned student +and a man of implacable opinions. He never +could comprehend Mr. Seward's diplomacy, and +probably Mr. Seward could never understand Sumner's +inability to compromise. He was deficient +in imagination and in tact; therefore he could not +enter into the minds of others, and imperfectly +understood them. But the purity of his soul and +life, the childlike simplicity of his purposes, and +the sweetness of his disposition, were very charming +to those who knew him well. Add to this the +resources of a mind stored with every kind of +knowledge, and a memory which never forgot anything, +and his very presence in Washington gave +an added value to the place. He had seen men +and cities, and was intimate with European celebrities, +but yet was an Israelite indeed in whom was +no guile. Fond of the good opinions of others, +and well pleased with their approbation, he never +sacrificed a conviction to win their praise or to +avoid their censure. Certainly, he was one of the +purest men who ever took part in American politics.</p> + +<p>It was such a man as this, so gifted and adorned, +so spotless and upright, who by the wise providence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">357</a></span> +of God was permitted to be the victim of a +brutal assassin. It was this noble head, the instrument +of laborious thought for the public welfare, +which was beaten and bruised by the club of +a ruffian, on May 22, 1856. Loud was the triumph +through the South, great the joy of the slave +power. They had disabled, with cruel blows, their +chief enemy. Little did they foresee—bad men +never do foresee—that Charles Sumner was to +return to his seat, and become a great power in the +land, long after their system had been crushed, and +their proud States trampled into ruin by the tread +of Northern armies. They did not foresee that he +was to be the trusted counselor of Lincoln during +those years of war; and that, after they had been +conquered, he would become one of their best +friends in their great calamity, and repay their +evil with good.</p> + +<p>This murderous assault on Mr. Sumner cannot +be considered as having strengthened the political +position of the slave power. It was a great mistake +in itself, and it was a greater mistake in being +indorsed by such multitudes in the slave States. +In thus taking the responsibility of the act, they +fully admitted that brutality, violence, and cowardly +attempts at assassination are natural characteristics +of slavery. A thrill of horror went +through the civilized world on this occasion. All +the free States felt themselves outraged. That +an attempt should be made to kill in his seat a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">358</a></span> +Northern man, for words spoken in debate, was a +gross insult and wrong to the nation, and deepened +everywhere the detestation felt for the system.</p> + +<p>But madness must have its perfect work. One +more step remained to be taken by the slave power, +and that was to claim the right, under the Constitution, +and protected by the general government, +to carry slaves and slavery into all the Territories. +It was not enough that they were not prohibited +by acts of Congress. They must not allow the +people of the Territories to decide for themselves +whether slavery should exist among them or not. +It had a right to exist there, in spite of the people. +A single man from South Carolina, going with his +slaves into Nebraska, should have the power of +making that a slave State, though all the rest of its +inhabitants wished it to be free. And if he were +troubled by his neighbors, he had a right to call +on the military power of the United States to protect +him against them. Such was the doctrine of +the Dred Scott case, such the doctrine accepted by +the majority of the United States Senate under the +lead of Jefferson Davis in the spring of 1859. +Such was the doctrine demanded by the Southern +members of the Democratic Convention in Charleston, +S. C., in May, 1860, and, failing to carry it, +they broke up that convention. And it was because +they were defeated in this purpose of carrying +slavery into the Territories that they seceded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">359</a></span> +from the Union, and formed the Southern Confederacy.</p> + +<p>They had gained a long succession of political +triumphs, which we have briefly traced in this +article. They had annexed Texas, and made another +slave State of that Territory. They had established +the principle that slavery was not to be +excluded by law from any of the Territories of the +nation. They had repealed the Missouri Compromise, +passed the Fugitive Slave Law, obtained the +Dred Scott decision from the Supreme Court. In +all this they had been aided by the Democratic +party, and were sure of the continued help of that +party. With these allies, they were certain to +govern the country for a long period of years. +The President, the Senate, the Supreme Court, +were all on their side. As regarded slavery in the +States, there was nothing to threaten its existence +there. The Republicans proposed only to restrict +it to the region where it actually existed, but could +not and would not meddle with it therein. If the +slave power had been satisfied with this, it seems +probable that it might have retained its ascendency +in the country for a long period. An immense +region was still open to its colonies. Cotton was +still king, and the slaveholders possessed all the +available cotton-growing regions. They were +wealthy, they were powerful, they governed the +nation. They threw all this power away by seceding +from the Union. Why did they do this?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">360</a></span> +The frequent answer to this question is contained +in the proverb, "Whom the gods would destroy +they first make mad." No doubt this act +was one of madness, and no doubt it was providential. +But Providence works not by direct interference, +but by maintaining the laws of cause and +effect. Why did they become so mad? Why this +supreme folly of relinquishing actual enormous +power, in order to set their lives and fortunes on +the hazard of a die?</p> + +<p>It seems to be the doom of all vaulting ambition +to overleap itself, and to fall on the other side. +When Macbeth had gained all his ends, when he +had become Thane of Cawdor and Glamis, and +king, he had no peace, because the succession had +been promised to <span class="locked">Banquo:—</span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No son of mine succeeding. If't be so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For <em>Banquo's</em> issue have I filed my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For <em>them</em> the gracious Duncan have I murthered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put rancors in the vessel of my peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">... To make <em>them</em> kings, the seed of Banquo kings!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather than so, come fate into the list,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And champion me to the utterance."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>When Napoleon the First was master of nearly +all Europe, he could not be satisfied while England +resisted his power, and Russia had not submitted +to it. So <em>he</em> also <span class="locked">said,—</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">361</a></span></p><div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i0q">"Rather than so, come fate into the list,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And champion me to the utterance."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">He also threw away all his immense power because +he could not arrest his own course or limit his own +demands on fate. Such ambitions cannot stop, so +long as there is anything unconquered or unpossessed. +"All this avails me nothing, so long as I +see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king's gate." +The madness which seizes those greedy of power +is like the passion of the gamester, who is unable +to limit his desire of gain. By this law of insatiable +ambition Providence equalizes destinies, and +power is prevented from being consolidated in a +few hands.</p> + +<p>The motive which actuates these ambitions, and +makes them think that nothing is gained so long as +anything remains to be gained, seems to be a secret +fear that they are in danger of losing all unless +they can obtain more.</p> + +<p>This inward dread appears to have possessed +the hearts of the Southern slaveholders. Since +slavery has been abolished, many of them admit +that they have more content in their present +poverty than they formerly had in their large +possessions. They were then sensitive to every +suggestion which touched their institution. Hence +their persecution of Abolitionists, hence their +cruelty to the slaves themselves,—for cruelty is +often the child of fear. Hence the atrocity of the +slave laws. Hence the desire to secure more and +larger guaranties from the United States for their +institution. Every rumor in the air troubled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">362</a></span> +them. The fact that antislavery opinion existed +at the North, that it was continually increasing, +that a great political party was growing up which +was opposed to their system, that such men as +Garrison and Wendell Phillips existed in Boston, +that Seward and Sumner were in the Senate,—all +this was intolerable. The only way of accounting +for Southern irritability, for Southern +aggressions, for its perpetual demand for more +power, is to be found in this latent terror. They +doubted whether the foundations of their whole +system were not rotten; they feared that it rested +on falsehood and lies; they secretly felt that it +was contrary to the will of God; an instinct in +their souls told them that it was opposed to the +spirit of the age and the laws of progress; and +this fear made them frantic.</p> + +<p>When men's minds are in this state, they are +like the glass toy called a Rupert's bubble. A +single scratch on the surface causes it to fly in +pieces. The scratch on the surface of the slave +system which caused it to rush into secession and +civil war was the attempt of John Brown on +Harper's Ferry. It seemed a trifle, but it indicated +a great deal. It was the first drop of a coming +storm. When one man was able to lay down +his life, in a conflict with their system, with such +courage and nobleness, in a cause not his own, a +shudder ran through the whole South. To what +might this grow? And so they said, "Let us cut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">363</a></span> +ourselves wholly off from these dreadful fanaticisms, +from these terrible dangers. Let us make a +community of our own, and shut out from it entirely +all antislavery opinion, and live only with +those who think as we do." And so came the end.</p> + +<p>In reviewing Mr. Wilson's work, we have thus +seen how it describes the gradual and simultaneous +growth in the United States of two hostile powers,—one +political, the other moral. The one continued +to accumulate the outward forces which +belong to the organization; the other, the inward +forces which are associated with enthusiasm. The +one added continually to its external strength by +the passage of new laws, the addition of new territory, +the more absolute control of parties, government, +courts, the press, and the street. The other +increased its power by accumulating an intenser +conviction, a clearer knowledge, a firmer faith, and +a more devoted consecration to its cause. The +weapons of the one were force, adroitness, and +worldly interest; those of the other, faith in God, +in man, and in truth.</p> + +<p>Great truths draw to their side noble auxiliaries. +So it was with the antislavery movement. The +heroism, the romance, the eloquence, the best +literature, the grandest forms of religion, the most +generous and purest characters,—all were brought +to it by a sure affinity. As Wordsworth said to +Toussaint l'Ouverture, so it might be declared +<span class="locked">here:—</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">364</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"> +<span class="i10q">"Thou hast great allies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy friends are exaltations, agonies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love, and man's unconquerable mind."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The best poets of America, Bryant, Longfellow, +Whittier, Lowell, were in full sympathy with this +cause, and their best poetry was their songs for +freedom. Shall we ever forget the caustic humor +of "Hosea Biglow" and "Birdofredum Sawin"? +And how lofty a flight of inspiration did the same +bard take, when he chanted in verses nobler, as it +seems to us, than anything since Wordsworth's +"Ode to Immortality," the Return of the Heroes +who had wrought salvation for the dear land +"bright beyond compare" among the nations! +What heroism, what tenderness, what stern rebuke, +what noble satire, have attended every event +in this long struggle, from the lyre of Whittier! +Nothing in Campbell excels the ring of some of +his trumpet-calls, nothing in Cowper the pathos of +his elegies over the martyrs of freedom. The +best men and the best women were always to be +found at the meetings of the Antislavery Society. +There were to be seen such upright lawyers as +Ellis Gray Loring and Samuel E. Sewall and John +A. Andrew, such eminent writers as Emerson, +such great preachers as Theodore Parker and +Beecher, such editors as Bryant and Greeley. To +this cause did William Ellery Channing devote +his last years and best thoughts. If the churches +as organizations stood aloof, being only "timidly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">365</a></span> +good," as organizations are apt to be, the purest of +their body were sure to be found in this great +company of latter-day saints.</p> + +<p>Antislavery men had their faults. They were +often unjust to their opponents, though unintentionally +so. They were sometimes narrow and +bitter; and with them, as with all very earnest +people, any difference of opinion as to methods +seemed to involve moral obliquity. But they were +doing the great work of the age,—the most necessary +work of all,—and much might be pardoned +to their passionate love of justice and humanity. +In their meetings could be heard many of the +ablest speakers of the time, and one, the best of +all. He held the silver bow of Apollo, and dreadful +was its clangor when he launched its shafts +against spiritual wickedness in high places. Those +deadly arrows were sometimes misdirected, and +occasionally they struck the good men who were +meaning to do their duty. Such errors, we suppose, +are incident to all who are speaking and acting +in such terrible earnest; in the great day of +accounts many mistakes will have to be rectified. +But surely among the goodly company of apostles +and prophets, and in the noble army of martyrs +there assembled, few will be found more free from +the sins of selfish interest and personal ambition +than those who in Congress, in the pulpit, on the +platform, or with the pen, fought the great battle +of American freedom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">366</a></span> +One great moral must be drawn from this story +before we close. It demonstrates, by a great historical +proof, that no evil however mighty, no +abuse however deeply rooted, can resist the power +of truth faithfully uttered and steadily applied. +If this great institution of slavery, resting on such +a foundation of enormous pecuniary interest, buttressed +by such powerful supports, fell in the life +of a single generation before the unaided power of +truth, why should we ever despair? Henceforth, +whenever a mighty evil is to be assailed, or a cruel +despotism overthrown, men will look to this history +of the greatness and decadence of slavery; +and, so encouraged, will believe that God is on the +side of justice, and that truth will always prevail +against error.</p> + +<p>But to this we must add, that it is only where +free institutions exist that truth has full power in +such a conflict. We need free speech, a free +press, free schools, and free churches, in order that +truth may have a free course. The great advantage +of a republic like ours is, that it gives to +truth a fair chance in its conflict with error. The +Southern States would long ago have abolished +slavery if it had possessed such institutions. But, +though republican in form, the Southern States +were in reality an oligarchy, in which five millions +of whites and three millions of slaves were governed +by the absolute and irresponsible power of +less than half a million of slaveholders. Freedom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">367</a></span> +was permitted by them except when this institution +was concerned, then it was absolutely forbidden. +No book written against their peculiar institution +could be printed on any Southern press or sold in +any Southern bookstore. No newspaper attacking +slavery was allowed to be circulated through +Southern mails. No public meeting could be held +to discuss the right and wrong of slavery. No +minister could preach against the system. No +man could express, even in conversation, his hostility +to it, without risk of personal injury. An +espionage as sharp, and an inquisition as relentless +as those of Venice or Spain, governed society, at +least in the cotton and sugar States of the Union. +But at the North opinion was free, and therefore +slavery fell. Fisher Ames compressed in an epigram +the evil and good of republican institutions. +"In a monarchy," said he, "we are in a ship, very +comfortable while things go well; but strike a +rock, and we go to the bottom. In a republic, we +are on a raft; our feet are wet, and it is not always +agreeable, but we are safe." It is a lasting proof +of the conservative power of free institutions, that +they were able to uproot such a system as slavery +by creating a moral force capable of putting it +down; that they could carry us through a civil +war, still leaving the press and speech free: that +they stood the strain of a presidential election +without taking from the voters a single right; and +so, at last, conquered a rebellion on so vast a scale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">368</a></span> +that every European monarchy, with its immense +standing army, would have been powerless in its +presence. Let those Americans who are disposed +to disparage their own institutions bear this history +in mind. We have evils here, and great +ones; but they come at once to the surface, and +therefore can be met and overcome by the power +of intelligent opinion. So it has always been in +the past; so it will be, God aiding us, in the +future. We are about to meet the Centennial +Anniversary of our national life; and on that day +we can look back to our fathers, the founders of +the Republic, and say to them,—"You gave us +the inestimable blessing of free institutions; we +have used those institutions to destroy the only +great evil which you transmitted to us untouched. +We now can send down the Republic to our children, +pure from this stain, and capable of enduring +<span class="smcap smaller">IN SECULA SECULORUM</span>."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">369</a></span></p> + +<p class="p4 center vspace"> +<span class="bold larger">The Riverside Press</span><br /> +<span class="smaller">CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, U. S. A.<br /> +ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY<br /> +H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h2><a name="FOOTNOTES" id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES</a></h2> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="inh"><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> See the argument to prove that it would not be difficult to +climb to heaven.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="inh"><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="fnanchor">2</a> Simon Peter's attitude expresses astonishment and perplexity. +He holds out both hands, and seems to say, "It cannot be!" +</p> +<div class="in1h"> +<p> +In Thaddeus we see suspicion, doubt, distrust. "I always suspected +him." +</p> +<p> +Matthew is speaking to Peter and Thomas, his hand held out +toward Jesus: "But I heard him say so." +</p> +<p> +Thomas: "What can it mean? What will be the end?" +</p> +<p> +James: (Hands spread wide apart in astonished perplexity:) +"Is it possible?" +</p> +<p> +Philip has laid both hands on his breast, and leaning toward +Jesus says, "Lord, is it I?" +</p> +<p> +At the other end, one is leaning forward, his hands resting on +the table, to catch the next words; one starting back, confused +and confounded.</p></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="inh"><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> <i>The North American Review</i>, February, 1881.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="inh"><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> <i>The Independent</i>, 1882.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="inh"><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="fnanchor">5</a> <i>The North American Review</i>, May, 1883.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="inh"><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="fnanchor">6</a> <i>Buddha and Early Buddhism</i>. Trübner & Co., 1881.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="inh"><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> <i>Hibbert Lectures</i>, 1882, page 291.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="inh"><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="fnanchor">8</a> A. Réville: <i>Prolégomènes de l'Histoìre des Religions</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="inh"><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> <i>Le Bouddha et sa Religion</i>, page 149, par J. Barthélemy +Saint-Hilaire, Paris.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="fnanchor">10</a> Senart: <i>Essai sur la Légende du Buddha</i>. Paris, 1875.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="fnanchor">11</a> Oldenberg: <i>Buddha, sein Leben, seine Lehre, seine Gemeinde</i>. +Berlin, 1881. This is one of the latest and best books on our +subject.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="fnanchor">12</a> <i>Three Lectures on Buddhism</i>: "Romantic Legend of Buddha," +by Samuel Beal. London, 1875. Eitel.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_13" id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="fnanchor">13</a> <i>Hibbert Lectures</i>: "Origin and Growth of Buddhism," by T. +W. Rhys Davids. 1881.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_14" id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="fnanchor">14</a> <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Ibid.</i>, page 143.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_15" id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="fnanchor">15</a> <i>Buddhistisch-Christliche Harmonie.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_16" id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="fnanchor">16</a> P. E. Lucius: <i>Die Therapeuten und ihre Stellung</i>, &c. Strassburg, +1880.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_17" id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="fnanchor">17</a> <i>The North American Review</i>, October, 1887.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_18" id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="fnanchor">18</a> <i>The Atlantic Monthly</i>, October, 1874.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_19" id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="fnanchor">19</a> <i>The Intelligence and Perfectibility of Animals</i>, by C. G. Leroy. +Translated into English in 1870. <i>De l'Instinct et l'Intelligence des +Animaux</i>, par P. Flourens. Paris, 1864.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_20" id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="fnanchor">20</a> It is a mistake to say that the Tasmanians do not use fire.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_21" id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="fnanchor">21</a> <i>The Galaxy</i>, December, 1874.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_22" id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="fnanchor">22</a> Symposium in the <i>North American Review</i>, May, 1879.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_23" id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="fnanchor">23</a> In this brief paper it is not possible even to allude to the +objections which have been brought against the doctrine of final +causes. For these objections, and the answers to them, I would +refer the reader to the work of Janet, before mentioned.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_24" id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="fnanchor">24</a> <i>The Christian Examiner</i>, September, 1864.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_25" id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="fnanchor">25</a> <i>History of Friedrich the Second, called Frederick the Great</i>, +by Thomas Carlyle. In four volumes. Harper and Brothers, +1864.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_26" id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="fnanchor">26</a> + +<span xml:lang="la" lang="la"><span class="in1">"Tu se' lo mio maestro, e 'l mio autore,</span><br /> +<span class="in1q">O degli altri poeti onore e lume."</span></span> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_27" id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="fnanchor">27</a> <i>Frederick the Great</i>, vol. ii. p. 223.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_28" id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="fnanchor">28</a> <i>The Christian Examiner</i>, November, 1861.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_29" id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="fnanchor">29</a> <i>History of Civilization in England.</i> By Henry Thomas +Buckle. Vols. I. and II. New York: D. Appleton and Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_30" id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="fnanchor">30</a> <i>Comm.</i> VI. 11, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">et seq.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_31" id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="fnanchor">31</a> <i>Germania.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_32" id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="fnanchor">32</a> George Borrow, <i>The Zincali</i>. See also an excellent article +by A. G. Paspati, translated from Modern Greek by Rev. C. Hamlin, +D. D., in <i>Journal of American Oriental Society</i>, 1861.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_33" id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="fnanchor">33</a> See Vol. II. pp. 255–259, American edition.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_34" id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="fnanchor">34</a> <i>The Atlantic Monthly</i>, August, 1881.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_35" id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="fnanchor">35</a> <i>Life of Voltaire</i>, by James Parton. In two vols. Boston: +Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1886.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_36" id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="fnanchor">36</a> Voltaire himself, with his acute perception, seems to have +been one of the first to discover the absurdity of the representation +of Tiberius by Tacitus.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_37" id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="fnanchor">37</a> <i>Essai sur les Mœurs</i>, ch. cxxi.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_38" id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="fnanchor">38</a> Parton, ii. 549.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_39" id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="fnanchor">39</a> <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Ibid.</i>, ii. 551.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_40" id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="fnanchor">40</a> <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Ibid.</i>, i. 232.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_41" id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="fnanchor">41</a> Martin's <i>History of France</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_42" id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="fnanchor">42</a> Parton, i. 461.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_43" id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="fnanchor">43</a> Martin's <i>History of France</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_44" id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="fnanchor">44</a> A sermon preached May 7, 1882.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_45" id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="fnanchor">45</a> <i>The North American Review</i>, May, 1877.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_46" id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="fnanchor">46</a> <i>Harriet Martineau's Autobiography.</i> Edited by Maria Weston +Chapman. 2 vols.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_47" id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="fnanchor">47</a> For some reason she afterward saw fit partially to abandon +this self-denial, and allowed Mrs. Chapman to print any letters +written to herself by Miss Martineau.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_48" id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="fnanchor">48</a> "History of the Rise and Fall of the Slave Power in America," +by Henry Wilson, <i>North American Review</i>, January, 1875.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_49" id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="fnanchor">49</a> <i>Congressional Globe</i> for February 6, 1837.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_50" id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="fnanchor">50</a> Rule adopted January 18, that all petitions relating to slavery +be laid on the table without any action being taken on them.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_51" id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="fnanchor">51</a> February 6, 7, 9, 11.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_52" id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="fnanchor">52</a> The writer of this article recalls a scene which occurred in his +presence in the United States Senate early in 1851. Mr. Clay was +speaking of the antislavery agitators and of the Free-Soil party, +and said, with much bitterness, "We have put them down,—down,—down, +where they will remain; down to a place so low, +that they can never get up again." John P. Hale, never at a loss +for a reply, immediately arose and said, "The Senator from Kentucky +says that I and my friends have been put down,—down,—down, +where we shall have to stay. It may be so. Indeed, if +the Senator says so, I am afraid it <em>must</em> be so. For, if there is any +good authority on this subject, any man who knows by his own personal +and constant experience what it is to be put down, and to be +kept down, it is the honorable Senator from Kentucky." Mr. +Clay's aspirations had been so often baffled, that this was a very +keen thrust. The writer spoke to Mr. Hale shortly after, and he +said, "I do not think Mr. Clay will forgive me that hit; but I +could not help it. They may have got us down, but they shall +not trample upon us."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_53" id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="fnanchor">53</a> O'Connell, in an album belonging to John Howard Payne, +writes this sentence after his name.</p></div> +</div> + +<div class="transnote"> +<h2>Transcriber's Notes</h2> + +<p>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant +preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.</p> + +<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced +quotation marks retained.</p> + +<p>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_39">39</a>: "Appeltons' Journal" was punctuated that way in the original +book and on the masthead of the Journal itself.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_46">46</a>: "generalties" was spelled that way in the original book +and in some copies of "The Poestaster" itself.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_220">220</a>: Greek transliteration in curly braces was added by Transcriber.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_309">309</a>: Opening quotation mark before "unfailing good sense" was +added by Transcriber.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Nineteenth Century Questions, by +James Freeman Clarke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS *** + +***** This file should be named 44628-h.htm or 44628-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/6/2/44628/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nineteenth Century Questions + +Author: James Freeman Clarke + +Release Date: January 8, 2014 [EBook #44628] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's note: Text in {curly braces} on page 220 is Greek +transliteration provided by the transcribers. + + + + +By James Freeman Clarke, D.D. + + + TEN GREAT RELIGIONS. Part I. An Essay in Comparative Theology. + New _Popular Edition_. Crown 8vo, gilt top, $2.00. + + TEN GREAT RELIGIONS. Part II. Comparison of all Religions. Crown + 8vo, gilt top, $2.00. + + COMMON SENSE IN RELIGION. Crown 8vo, $2.00. + + MEMORIAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. Crown 8vo, $2.00. + + EVERY-DAY RELIGION. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + EVENTS AND EPOCHS IN RELIGIOUS HISTORY. With Maps and + Illustrations. Crown 8vo, $2.00. + + THE IDEAS OF THE APOSTLE PAUL. Translated into their Modern + Equivalents. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + SELF-CULTURE: Physical, Intellectual, Moral, and Spiritual. Crown + 8vo, $1.50. + + NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + EXOTICS. Poems translated from the French, German, and Italian, + by J. F. C. and L. C. 18mo, $1.00. + + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, + BOSTON AND NEW YORK. + + + + + NINETEENTH CENTURY + QUESTIONS + + BY + JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + 1897. + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY ELIOT C. CLARKE + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE + + +Shortly before his death, Dr. Clarke selected the material for this +book, and partly prepared it for publication. He wished thus to +preserve some of his papers which had excited interest when printed in +periodicals or read as lectures. + +With slight exceptions, the book is issued just as prepared by the +author. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + LITERARY STUDIES. + LYRIC AND DRAMATIC ELEMENTS IN LITERATURE AND ART 3 + DUALISM IN NATIONAL LIFE 28 + DID SHAKESPEARE WRITE BACON'S WORKS? 38 + THE EVOLUTION OF A GREAT POEM: GRAY'S ELEGY 60 + + RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL. + AFFINITIES OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY 71 + WHY I AM NOT A FREE-RELIGIONIST 90 + HAVE ANIMALS SOULS? 100 + APROPOS OF TYNDALL 128 + LAW AND DESIGN IN NATURE 149 + + HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL. + THE TWO CARLYLES, OR CARLYLE PAST AND PRESENT 162 + BUCKLE AND HIS THEORY OF AVERAGES 196 + VOLTAIRE 235 + RALPH WALDO EMERSON 270 + HARRIET MARTINEAU 284 + THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA 312 + + + + +LITERARY STUDIES + + + + +LYRIC AND DRAMATIC ELEMENTS IN LITERATURE AND ART + + +The German philosophy has made a distinction between the Subjective +and the Objective, which has been found so convenient that it has been +already naturalized and is almost acclimated in our literature. + +The distinction is this: in all thought there are two factors, the +thinker himself, and that about which he thinks. All thought, say our +friends the Germans, results from these two factors: the subject, or +the man thinking; and the object, what the man thinks about. All that +part of thought which comes from the man himself, the Ego, they call +subjective; all that part which comes from the outside world, the +non-Ego, they call objective. + +I am about to apply this distinction to literature and art; but instead +of the terms Subjective and Objective, I shall use the words Lyric and +Dramatic. + +For example, when a writer or an artist puts a great deal of himself +into his work, I call him a lyric writer or artist. Lyrical, in poetry, +is the term applied to that species of poetry which directly expresses +the individual emotions of the poet. On the other hand, I call an +artist or poet dramatic when his own personality disappears, and is +lost in that which he paints or describes. A lyric or subjective writer +gives us more of himself than of the outside world; a dramatic or +objective writer gives us more of the outside world than of himself. + +Lyric poetry is that which is to be sung; the lyre accompanies song. +Now, song is mainly personal or subjective. It expresses the singer's +personal emotions, feelings, desires; and for these reasons I select +this phrase "lyric" to express all subjective or personal utterances in +art. + +The drama, on the other hand, is a photograph of life; of live men +and women acting themselves out freely and individually. The dramatic +writer ought to disappear in his drama; if he does not do so he is not +a dramatic writer, but a lyrist in disguise. + +The dramatic element is the power of losing one's self--opinions, +feeling, character--in that which is outside and foreign, and +reproducing it just as it is. In perfect dramatic expression the +personal equation is wholly eliminated. The writer disappears in his +characters; his own hopes and fears, emotions and convictions, do not +color his work. + +But the lyric element works in the opposite way. In song, the singer +is prominent more than what he sings. He suffuses his subject with +his own thoughts and feelings. If he describes nature, he merely gives +us the feelings it awakens in his own mind. If he attempts to write a +play, we see the same actor thinly disguised reappearing in all the +parts. + +Now, there is a curious fact connected with this subject. It is that +great lyric and dramatic authors or artists are apt to appear in duads +or pairs. Whenever we meet with a highly subjective writer, we are +apt to find him associated with another as eminently objective. This +happens so often that one might imagine that each type of thought +attracts its opposite and tends to draw it out and develop it. It may +be that genius, when it acts on disciples who are persons of talent, +draws out what is like itself, and makes imitators; when it acts on a +disciple who himself possesses genius, it draws out what is opposite +to itself and develops another original thinker. Genius, like love, +is attracted by its opposite, or counterpart. Love and genius seek to +form wholes; they look for what will complete and fulfill themselves. +When, therefore, a great genius has come, fully developed on one side, +he exercises an irresistible attraction on the next great genius, +in whom the opposite side is latent, and is an important factor in +his development. Thus, perhaps, we obtain the duads, whose curious +concurrence I will now illustrate by a few striking instances. + +Beginning our survey with English literature, who are the first two +great poets whose names occur to us? Naturally, Chaucer and Spenser. +Now, Chaucer is eminently dramatic and objective in his genius; while +Spenser is distinctly a lyrical and subjective poet. + +Chaucer tells stories; and story-telling is objective. One of the most +renowned collections of stories is the "Arabian Nights;" but who knows +anything about the authors of those entertaining tales? They are merely +pictures of Eastern life, reflected in the minds of some impersonal +authors, whose names even are unknown. + +Homer is another great story-teller; and Homer is so objective, so +little of a personality, that some modern critics suppose there may +have been several Homers. + +Chaucer is a story-teller also; and in his stories everything belonging +to his age appears, except Chaucer himself. His writings are full of +pictures of life, sketches of character; in one word, he is a dramatic +or objective writer. He paints things as they are,--gives us a panorama +of his period. Knights, squires, yeomen, priests, friars, pass before +us, as in Tennyson's poem "The Lady of Shalott." + +The mind of an objective story-teller, like Chaucer, is the faithful +mirror, which impartially reflects all that passes before it, but +cracks from side to side whenever he lets a personal feeling enter his +mind, for then the drama suddenly disappears and a lyric of personal +hope or fear, gladness or sadness, takes its place. + +Spenser is eminently a lyric poet. His own genius suffuses his stories +with a summer glow of warm, tender, generous sentiment. In his +descriptions of nature he does not catalogue details, but suggests +impressions, which is the only way of truly describing nature. There +are some writers who can describe scenery, so that the reader feels as +if he had seen it himself. The secret of all such description is that +it does not count or measure, but suggests. It is not quantitative +but qualitative analysis. It does not apply a foot rule to nature, +but gives the impression made on the mind and heart by the scene. I +have never been at Frascati nor in Sicily, but I can hardly persuade +myself that I have not seen those places. I have distinct impressions +of both, simply from reading two of George Sand's stories. I have in +my mind a picture of Frascati, with deep ravines, filled with foliage; +with climbing, clustering, straggling vines and trees and bushes; with +overhanging crags, deep masses of shadow below, bright sunshine on +the stone pines above. So I have another picture of Sicilian scenery, +wide and open, with immense depths of blue sky, and long reaches of +landscape; ever-present Etna, soaring snow-clad into the still air; an +atmosphere of purity, filling the heart with calm content. It may be +that Catania and Frascati are not like this; but I feel as if I had +seen them, not as if I had heard them described. + +It is thus that Spenser describes nature; by touching some chord of +fancy in the soul. Notice this picture of a boat on the sea:-- + + "So forth they rowed; and that Ferryman + With his stiff oars did brush the sea so strong + That the hoar waters from his frigate ran, + And the light bubbles danced all along + Whiles the salt brine out of the billows sprang; + At last, far off, they many islands spy, + On every side, floating the floods among." + +You notice that you are in the boat yourself, and everything is told +as it appears to you there; you see the bending of the "stiff oars" +by your side, and the little bubbles dancing on the water, and the +islands, not as they _are_, rock-anchored, but as they _seem_ to you, +floating on the water. This is subjective description,--putting the +reader in the place, and letting him see it all from that point of +view. So Spenser speaks of the "oars sweeping the watery wilderness;" +and of the gusty winds "filling the sails with fear." + +Perhaps the highest description ought to include both the lyric and +dramatic elements. Here is a specimen of sea description, by an almost +unknown American poet, Fenner, perfect in its way. The poem is called +"Gulf Weed:"-- + + "A weary weed washed to and fro, + Drearily drenched in the ocean brine; + Soaring high, or sinking low, + Lashed along without will of mine; + Sport of the spoom of the surging sea, + Flung on the foam afar and near; + Mark my manifold mystery, + Growth and grace in their place appear. + + "I bear round berries, gray and red, + Rootless and rover though I be; + My spangled leaves, when nicely spread, + Arboresce as a trunkless tree; + Corals curious coat me o'er + White and hard in apt array; + Mid the wild waves' rude uproar + Gracefully grow I, night and day. + + "Hearts there are on the sounding shore, + (Something whispers soft to me,) + Restless and roaming for evermore, + Like this weary weed of the sea; + Bear they yet on each beating breast + The eternal Type of the wondrous whole, + Growth unfolding amidst unrest, + Grace informing the silent soul." + +All nature becomes alive in the Spenserian description. Take, for +example, the wonderful stanza which describes the music of the "Bower +of Bliss:"-- + + "The joyous birds, shrouded in cheerful shade + Their notes unto the voice attemper'd sweet; + Th' angelical, soft, trembling voices made + To the instruments divine respondence meet; + The silver-sounding instruments did meet + With the bass murmur of the water's fall; + The water's fall, with difference discreet, + Now loud, now low, unto the winds did call; + The gentle warbling winds low answered to all." + +Consider the splendid portrait of Belphoebe:-- + + "In her fair eyes two living lamps did flame, + Kindled above at the Heavenly Maker's light; + And darted fiery beams out of the same, + So passing piercing, and so wondrous bright, + They quite bereaved the rash beholder's sight; + In them the blinded god his lustful fire + To kindle oft essay'd but had no might, + For with dread majesty and awful ire + She broke his wanton darts and quenched base desire. + + "Her ivory forehead, full of bounty brave, + Like a broad tablet did itself dispread, + For love his lofty triumphs to engrave, + And write the battles of his great godhead; + All good and honor might therein be read, + For there their dwelling was; and when she spake, + Sweet words, like dropping honey she did shed; + And, twixt the pearls and rubies softly brake + A silver Sound, that heavenly music seemed to make." + +If we examine this picture, we see that it is not a photograph, such as +the sun makes, but a lover's description of his mistress. He sees her, +not as she is, but as she is to _him_. He paints her out of his own +heart. In her eyes he sees, not only brilliancy and color, but heavenly +light; he reads in them an untouched purity of soul. Looking at her +forehead, he sees, not whiteness and roundness, but goodness and honor. + +Shakespeare's lovers always describe their mistresses in this way, +out of their own soul and heart. It is his own feeling that the lover +gives, seeing perhaps "Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt." + +After Chaucer and Spenser the next great English poets whose names +naturally occur to us are Shakespeare and Milton. + +Now, Shakespeare was the most objective dramatic writer who ever lived; +while Milton was eminently and wholly a subjective and lyrical writer. + +It is true that Shakespeare was so great that he is one of the very +few men of genius in whom appear both of these elements. In his plays +he is so objective that he is wholly lost in his characters, and +his personality absolutely disappears; in his sonnets he "unlocks +his heart" and is lyrical and subjective; he there gives us his +inmost self, and we seem to know him as we know a friend with whom +we have lived in intimate relations for years. Still, he will be +best remembered by his plays; and into them he put the grandeur and +universality of his genius; so we must necessarily consider him as the +greatest dramatic genius of all time. But he belonged to a group of +dramatic poets of whom he was the greatest: Ben Jonson, Beaumont and +Fletcher, Massinger, Ford, Webster,--any one of whom would make the +fortune of the stage to-day. It was a great age of dramatic literature, +and it came very naturally to meet a demand. The play then was what the +novel is to-day. As people to-day have no sooner read a new novel than +they want another, so, in Shakespeare's time, they had no sooner seen +a new play than they ran to see another. Hence the amazing fertility +of the dramatic writers. Thomas Heywood wrote the whole or a part +of two hundred and twenty plays. The manager of one of the theatres +bought a hundred and six new plays for his stage in six years; and in +the next five years a hundred and sixty. The price paid to an author +for a play would now be equal to about two or three hundred dollars. +The dramatic element, as is natural, abounds in these writings, though +in some of them the author's genius is plainly lyrical. Such, for +example, is Massinger's, who always reminds me of Schiller. Both wrote +plays, but in both writers the faculty of losing themselves in their +characters is wanting. The nobleness of Schiller appears in all his +works, and constitutes a large part of their charm. So in Massinger all +tends to generosity and elevation. His worst villains are ready to be +converted and turn saints at the least provocation. Their wickedness is +in a condition of unstable equilibrium; it topples over, and goodness +becomes supreme in a single moment. Massinger could not create really +wicked people; their wickedness is like a child's moment of passion +or willfulness, ending presently in a flood of tears, and a sweet +reconciliation with his patient mother. But how different was it with +Shakespeare! Consider his Iago. How deeply rooted was his villainy! +how it was a part of the very texture of his being! He had conformed to +it the whole philosophy of his life. His cynical notions appear in the +first scene. Iago _believes_ in meanness, selfishness, everything that +is base; to him all that seems good is either a pretense or a weakness. +The man who does not seek the gratification of his own desires is a +fool. There is to Iago nothing sweet, pure, fair, or true, in this +world or the next. He profanes everything he touches. He sneers at the +angelic innocence of Desdemona; he sneers at the generous, impulsive +soul of Othello. When some one speaks to him of virtue, he says +"Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies +are our gardens, to which our wills are gardeners." You can plant +nettles or lettuce as you please. That is to say, there is no reality +in goodness. The virtue of Desdemona will be gone to-morrow, if she +takes the whim. The Moor's faith in goodness is folly; it will cause +him to be led by the nose. There is no converting such a man as that; +or only when, by means of terrible disappointments and anguish, he is +brought to see the reality of human goodness and divine providence. And +that can hardly happen to him in this world. + +Iago is a murderer of the soul, Macbeth a murderer of the body. +The wickedness of Macbeth is different from that of Iago; that of +Shylock and of Richard Third different again from either. Macbeth +is a half-brute, a man in a low state of development, with little +intellect and strong passions. Shylock is a highly intellectual man, +not a cynic like Iago, but embittered by ill-treatment, made venomous +by cruel wrong and perpetual contempt. Oppression has made this wise +man mad. Richard Third, originally bad, has been turned into a cruel +monster by the egotism born of power. He has the contempt for his race +that belongs to the aristocrat, who looks on men in humbler places +as animals of a lower order made for his use or amusement. Now, this +wonderful power of differentiating characters belongs to the essence +of the dramatic faculty. Each of these is developed from within, from +a personal centre, and is true to that. Every manifestation of this +central life is correlated to every other. If one of Shakespeare's +characters says but ten words in one scene, and then ten words more in +another, we recognize him as the same person. His speech bewrayeth him. +So it is in human life. Every man is fatally consistent with himself. +So, after we have seen a number of pictures by any one of the great +masters, we recognize him again, as soon as we enter a gallery. We know +him by a certain style. Inferior artists have a manner; great artists +have a style; manner is born of imitation; style of originality. So, +there is a special quality in every human being, if he will only allow +it to unfold. The dramatic faculty recognizes this. Its knowledge +of man is not a philosophy, nor a mere knowledge of human nature, +but a perception of individual character. It first integrates men as +human beings; then differentiates them as individuals. Play-writers, +novelists, and artists who do not possess this dramatic genius cannot +grow their characters from within, from a personal centre of life; +but build them up from without, according to a plan. In description +of nature, however, Shakespeare is, as he ought to be, subjective and +lyric; he touches nature with human feelings. Take his description of a +brook:-- + + "The current that with gentle murmur glides + Thou know'st, being stopp'd impatiently doth rage; + But when his fair course is not hindered, + He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones, + Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge + He overtaketh in his pilgrimage, + And so by many winding nooks he strays + With willing sport to the wild ocean." + +The brook is gentle; then it becomes angry; then it is pacified and +begins to sing; then it stops to kiss the sedge; then it is a pilgrim; +and it walks _willingly_ on to the ocean. + +So in his sonnet:-- + + "Full many a glorious morning have I seen + Flatter the mountain top with sovereign eye; + Kissing with golden face the meadows green, + Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; + Anon permit the basest clouds to ride + With ugly rack on his celestial face; + And from the forlorn world his visage hide, + Stealing unseen to west with his disgrace; + Even so my sun one early morn did shine, + With all triumphant splendor on my brow; + But out, alack! he was but one hour mine; + The region cloud hath masked him from me now; + Yet him, for this, my love no whit disdaineth, + Suns of this world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth." + +From Shakespeare, the marvel of dramatic genius, turn to Milton, and we +find the opposite tendency unfolded. + +The "Paradise Lost" is indeed dramatic in form, with different +characters and dialogues, in hell, on earth, and in heaven. But in +essence it is undramatic. Milton is never for a moment lost in his +characters; his grand and noble soul is always appearing. Every one +speaks as Milton would have spoken had Milton been in the same place, +and looked at things from the same point of view. Sin and Satan, for +example, both talk like John Milton. Sin is very conscientious, and +before she will unlock the gate of hell she is obliged to argue herself +into a conviction that it is right to do so. Satan, she says, is her +father, and children ought to obey their parents; so, since he tells +her to unlock the gate, she ought to do so. Death reproaches Satan, in +good set terms, for his treason against the Almighty; and Satan, as we +all know, utters the noblest sentiments, and talks as Milton would have +talked, had Milton been in Satan's position.[1] + +Coming down nearer to our own time, we find a duad of great English +poets, usually associated in our minds,--Byron and Scott. + +Scott was almost the last of the dramatic poets of England, using the +word dramatic in its large sense. His plays never amounted to much; but +his stories in verse and in prose are essentially dramatic. In neither +does he reveal himself. In all his poetry you scarcely find a reference +to his personal feelings. In the L'Envoi to the "Lady of the Lake" +there is a brief allusion of this sort, touching because so unusual, +and almost the only one I now recall. Addressing the "Harp of the +North" he says:-- + + "Much have I owed thy strains through life's long way, + Through secret woes the world has never known, + When on the weary night dawned wearier day, + And bitterer was the grief devoured alone; + That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own." + +Scott, like Chaucer, brings before us a long succession of characters, +from many classes, countries, and times. Scotch barons and freebooters, +English kings, soldiers, gentlemen, crusaders, Alpine peasants, +mediaeval counts, serfs, Jews, Saxons,--brave, cruel, generous,--all +sweep past us, in a long succession of pictures; but of Scott himself +nothing appears except the nobleness and purity of the tone which +pervades all. He is therefore eminently a dramatic or objective writer. + +But Byron is the exact opposite. The mighty exuberance of his genius, +which captivated his age, and the echoes of which thrill down to +ours, in all its vast overflow of passion, imagination, wit,--ever +sounded but one strain,--himself. His own woes, his own wrongs are +the ever-recurring theme. Though he wrote many dramas, he was more +undramatic than Milton. Every character in every play is merely a +thinly disguised Byron. It was impossible for him to get away from +himself. If Tennyson's lovely line tells the truth when he says,-- + + "Love took up the harp of life and smote on all its chords with + might; + Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of + sight:" + +then Byron never really loved; for in his poetry the chord of self +never passes out of sight. + +In his plays the principal characters are Byron undiluted--as Manfred, +Sardanapalus, Cain, Werner, Arnold. All the secondary characters are +Byron more or less diluted,--Byron and water, may we say? Never, since +the world began, has there been a poet so steeped in egotism, so sick +of self-love as he; and the magnificence of his genius appears in the +unfailing interest which he can give to this monotonous theme. + +But he was the example of a spirit with which the whole age was filled +to saturation. Almost all the nineteenth century poets of England are +subjective, giving us their own experience, sentiments, reflections, +philosophies. Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, Keats, revolve in this +enchanted and enchanting circle. Keats and Coleridge seem capable of +something different. So, in the double star, made up of Wordsworth +and Coleridge, the first is absolutely personal and lyric, the second +sometimes objective and dramatic. And in that other double star of +Shelley and Keats the same difference may be noted. + +A still more striking instance of the combination of these antagonisms +is to be found in our time, in Robert Browning and his wife. Mrs. +Browning is wholly lyric, like a bird which sings its own tender song +of love and hope and faith till "that wild music burdens every bough;" +and those "mournful hymns" hush the night to listening sympathy. + +But in her husband we have a genuine renaissance of the old dramatic +power of the English bards. Robert Browning is _so_ dramatic that +he forgets himself and his readers too, in his characters and their +situations. To study the varieties of men and women is his joy; to +reproduce them unalloyed, his triumph. + +One curious instance of this self-oblivious immersion in the creations +of his mind occurs to me. In one of his early poems called "In a +Gondola"--as it first appeared--two lovers are happily conversing, +until in a moment, we know not why, the tone becomes one of despair, +and they bid each other an eternal farewell. Why this change of tone +there is no explanation. In a later edition he condescends to inform +us, inserting a note to this effect: "He is surprised and stabbed." +This is the opposite extreme to Milton's angels carefully explaining to +each other that they possess a specific levity which enables them to +drop upward. + +If we think of our own poets whose names are usually +connected,--Longfellow and Lowell, for instance,--we shall easily see +which is dramatic and which lyric. But the only man of truly dramatic +faculty whom we have possessed was one in whom the quality never fully +ripened,--I mean Edgar Allan Poe. + +In foreign literature we may trace the same tendency of men of genius +to arrange themselves in couplets. Take, for instance, in Italy, +Dante and Petrarch; in France, Voltaire and Rousseau; in Germany, +Goethe and Schiller. Dante is dramatic, losing himself in his stern +subject, his dramatic characters; his awful pictures of gloomy destiny. +Petrarch is lyrical, personal, singing forever his own sad and sweet +fate. Again, Voltaire is essentially dramatic,--immersed in things, +absorbed in life, a man reveling in all human accident and adventure, +and aglow with faith in an earthly paradise. The sad Rousseau goes +apart, away from men; standing like Byron, among them, but not of them; +in a cloud of thoughts that are not their thoughts. And, once more, +though Goethe resembles Shakespeare in this, that some of his works +are subjective, and others objective,--though, in the greatness of his +mind he reconciles all the usual antagonisms of thought,--yet the fully +developed Goethe, like the fully developed Shakespeare, disappears +in his characters and theme. Life to him, in all its forms, was so +intensely interesting that his own individual and subjective sentiments +are left out of sight. But Schiller stands opposed to Goethe, as being +a dramatist devoid of dramatic genius, but full of personal power; +so grand in his nobleness of soul, so majestic in the aspirations of +his sentiment, so full of patriotic ardor and devotion to truth and +goodness, that he moves all hearts as he walks through his dramas,--the +great poet visible in every scene and every line. As his tried and +noble friend says of him in an equally undying strain:-- + + "Burned in his cheek, with ever-deepening fire, + The spirit's youth, which never passes by; + The courage, which though worlds in hate conspire, + Conquers at last their dull hostility; + The lofty faith, which ever, mounting higher, + Now presses on, now waiteth patiently; + By which the good tends ever to its goal-- + By which day lights at last the generous soul." + +Goethe's characters and stories covered the widest range: Faust, made +sick with too much thought, and seeking outward joy as a relief; +Werther, a self-absorbed sentimentalist; Tasso, an Italian man of +genius, a mixture of imagination, aspiration, sensitive self-distrust; +susceptible to opinion, sympathetic; Iphigenia, a picture of antique +calm, simplicity, purity, classic repose, like that of a statue; +Hermann and Dorothea, a sweet idyl of modern life, in a simple-minded +German village with an opinionated, honest landlord, a talkative +apothecary, a motherly landlady, a sensible and good pastor, and the +two young lovers. + +This law of duality, or reaction of genius on genius, will also be +found to apply to artists, philosophers, historians, orators. These +also come in pairs, manifesting the same antagonistic qualities. + +Some artists are lyric; putting their own souls into every face, every +figure, making even a landscape alive with their own mood; adding-- + + "A gleam + Of lustre known to neither sea nor land + But borrowed from the poet-painter's dream." + +In every landscape of Claude we find the soul of Claude; in every +rugged rock-defile of Salvator we read his mood. These artists are +lyric; but there are also great dramatic painters, who give you, not +themselves, but men and women; so real, so differentiated, characters +so full of the variety and antagonism of nature, that the whole life of +a period springs into being at their touch. + +Take for instance two names, which always go together, standing side +by side at the summit of Italian art,--Michael Angelo and Raphael. +Though Raphael was a genius of boundless exuberance, and poured on the +wall and canvas a flood of forms, creating as nature creates, without +pause or self-repetition, yet there is a tone in all which irresistibly +speaks of the artist's own soul. He created a world of Raphaels. Grace, +sweetness, and tenderness went into all his work. Every line has the +same characteristic qualities. + +Turn to the frescoes by Michael Angelo in the Sistine Chapel. As we +look up at those mighty forms--prophets, sibyls, seers, with multitudes +of subordinate figures--we gradually trace in each prophet, king, or +bard an individual character. Each one is himself. How fully each face +and attitude is differentiated by some inward life. How each--David, +Isaiah, Ezekiel, the Persian and the Libyan sibyl--stands out, +distinct, filled with a power or a tenderness all his own. Michael +Angelo himself is not there, except as a fountain of creative life, +from whose genius all these majestic persons come forth as living +realities. + +Hanging on my walls are the well-known engravings of Guido's Aurora and +Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper. One of these is purely lyrical; the +other as clearly dramatic. + +The Aurora is so exquisitely lovely, the forms so full of grace, the +movement of all the figures so rapid yet so firm, that I can never pass +it without stopping to enjoy its charms. But variety is absent. The +hours are lovely sisters, as Ovid describes sisters:-- + + "Facies non omnibus una, + Nec diversa tamen, qualis decet esse sororum." + +But when we turn to the Last Supper, we see the dramatic artist at his +best. The subject is such as almost to compel a monotonous treatment, +but there is a wonderful variety in the attitudes and grouping. Each +apostle shows by his attitude, gesture, expression, that he is affected +differently from all the others. Even the feet under the table speak. +Stand before the picture; put yourself into the attitude of each +apostle, and you will immediately understand his state of mind.[2] + +The mediaeval religious artists were subjective, sentimental, lyrical. +In a scene like the crucifixion, all the characters, whether apostles, +Roman soldiers, or Jewish Pharisees, hang their heads like bulrushes. + +But see how Rubens, that great dramatic painter, represents the +scene. The Magdalen, wild with grief, with disheveled hair, has thrown +herself at the foot of the cross, clasping and kissing the feet of +Jesus. On the other faces are terror, dismay, doubt, unbelief, mockery, +curiosity, triumph, despair,--according to each person's character and +attitude toward the event. Meantime the Roman centurion, seated on his +splendid horse, is deliberately and carefully striking his spear into +the side of the sufferer. His face expresses only that he has a duty to +perform and means to fulfill it perfectly. + +As Rubens is greatly dramatic, his pupil and follower, Vandyke, is a +great lyrical artist, whose noble aspiration and generous sentiment +shows itself in all his work. + +The school of Venice, with Titian and Tintoretto at its head, is +grandly dramatic and objective. The school of Florence, with Guido and +Domenichino at its head, eminently lyrical and subjective. + +If we had time, we might show that the two masters of Greek philosophy, +Plato and Aristotle, are, the one lyrical, and intensely subjective, +platonizing the universe; and the other as evidently objective, +immersed in the study of things; rejoicing in their variety, their +individuality, their persistence of type. + +The two masters of Greek history, Herodotus and Thucydides, stand +opposed to each other in the same way. Herodotus is the story-teller, +the dramatic raconteur, whose charming tales are as entertaining as the +"Arabian Nights." Thucydides is the personal historian who puts himself +into his story, and determines its meaning and moral according to his +own theories and convictions. + +We have another example in Livy and Tacitus. + +The two great American orators most frequently mentioned together are +Webster and Clay. Though you would smile if I were to call either of +them a lyric or a dramatic speaker, yet the essential distinction we +have been considering may be clearly seen in them. Clay's inspiration +was personal, his influence, personal influence. His theme was nothing; +his treatment of it everything. But Webster rose or fell with the +magnitude and importance of the occasion and argument. When on the +wrong side, he failed, for his intellect would not work well except in +the service of reality and truth. But Clay was perhaps greatest when +arguing against all facts and all reason. Then he summoned all his +powers,--wit, illustration, analogy, syllogisms, appeals to feeling, +prejudice, and passion; and so swept along his confused and blinded +audience to his conclusions. + +I think that subjective writers are loved more than dramatic. We admire +the one and we love the other. We admire Shakespeare and love Milton; +we admire Chaucer and love Spenser; we admire Dante and love Petrarch; +we admire Goethe and love Schiller; and if Byron had not been so +selfish a man, we should have loved him too. We admire Michael Angelo +and love Raphael; we admire Rubens and love Vandyke; we admire Robert +Browning and love Mrs. Browning. In short, we care more for the man who +gives us himself than for the man who gives us the whole outside world. + +I have been able to give you only a few hints of this curious +distinction in art and literature. But if we carry it in our mind, we +shall find it a key by which many doors may be unlocked. It will enable +us to classify authors, and understand them better. + + + + +DUALISM IN NATIONAL LIFE + + +The science of comparative ethnology is one which has been greatly +developed during the last twenty-five years. The persistence of +race tendencies, as in the Semitic tribes, Jews and Arabs, or in +the Teutonic and Celtic branches of the great Aryan stock, has been +generally admitted. Though few would now say, with the ethnologist +Knox, "Race is everything," none would wholly dispense with this +factor, as Buckle did, in writing a history of civilization. + +Racial varieties have existed from prehistoric times. Their origin is +lost in the remote past. As far as history goes back, we find them the +same that they are now. When and how the primitive stock differentiated +itself into the great varieties which we call Aryan, Semitic, and +Turanian, no one can tell. But there are well-established varieties of +which we can trace the rise and development; I mean national varieties. +The character of an Englishman or a Frenchman is as distinctly marked +as that of a Greek or Roman. There is a general resemblance among all +Englishmen; and the same kind of resemblance among all Frenchmen, +Spaniards, Swedes, Poles. But this crystallization into national types +of character has taken place in a comparatively short period. We look +back to a time when there were no Englishmen in Great Britain; but only +Danes, Saxons, Normans, and Celts; no Frenchmen in France; but Gauls, +Franks, and Romans. Gradually a distinct quality emerges, and we have +Frenchmen, Italians, Englishmen. The type, once arrived at, persists, +and becomes more marked. It is marked by personal looks and manners, +by a common temperament, a common style of thinking, feeling, acting; +the same kind of morals and manners. This type was formed by the action +and reaction of the divers races brought side by side--Normans and +Saxons mutually influencing each other in England, and being influenced +again by climate, conditions of life, forms of government, national +customs. So, at last, we have the well-developed national character,--a +mysterious but very certain element, from which no individual can +wholly escape. All drink of that one spirit. + +Thus far I have been stating what we all know. But now I would call +your attention to a curious fact, which, so far as I am aware, has not +before been noticed. It is this,--that when two nations, during their +forming period, have been in relation to each other, there will be a +peculiar character developed in each. That is to say, they will differ +from each other according to certain well-defined lines, and these +differences will repeat themselves again and again in history, in +curious parallelisms, or dualisms. + +To take the most familiar illustration of this: consider the national +qualities of the French and English. The English and French, during +several centuries, have been acting and reacting on each other, both +in war and peace. Now, what are the typical characteristics of these +two nations? Stated in a broad way they might be described something as +follows:-- + +The English mind is more practical than ideal; its movement is slow +but persistent; its progress is by gradual development; it excels in +the industrial arts; it reverences power; it loves liberty more than +equality, not objecting to an aristocracy. It tends to individualism. +Its conquests have been due to the power of order, and adherence to law. + +The French mind is more ideal than practical; versatile, rather than +persistent; its movements rapid, its progress by crises and revolution, +rather than by development; it excels in whatever is tasteful and +artistic; it admires glory rather than power; loves equality more than +liberty; objects to an aristocracy, but is ready to yield individual +rights at the bidding of the community; renouncing individualism for +the sake of communism; and its successes have been due to enthusiasm +rather than to organization. + +Next, look at the Greeks and Romans. These peoples were in intimate +relations during the forming period of national life; and we find in +them much the same contrasts of character that we do in the English and +the French. The Romans were deficient in imagination, rather prosaic, +fond of rule and fixed methods, conservative of ancient customs. The +Greeks were quick and versatile; artistic to a high degree; producing +masterpieces of architecture, painting, statuary, and creating every +form of literature; inventing the drama, the epic poem, oratory, odes, +history, philosophy. The Romans borrowed from them their art and their +literature, but were themselves the creators of law, the organizers of +force. The Greeks and Romans were the English and French of antiquity; +and you will notice that they occupy geographically the same relative +positions,--the Greeks and French on the east; the Romans and English +on the west. + +But now observe another curious fact. The Roman Empire and the Greek +republics came to an end; and in Greece no important nationality took +the place of those wonderful commonwealths. But in Italy, by the union +of the old inhabitants with the Teutonic northern invaders, modern +Italy was slowly formed into a new national life. No longer deriving +any important influence from Greece (which had ceased to be a living +and independent force), Italy, during the Middle Ages, came into +relations with Spain and the Spaniards. In Spain, as in Italy, a new +national life was in process of formation by the union of the Gothic +tribes, the Mohammedan invaders, and the ancient inhabitants. The +Spaniards occupied Sicily in 1282, and Naples fell later into their +hands, about 1420, and in 1526 took possession of Milan. Thus Italy and +Spain were entangled in complex relations during their forming period. +What was the final result? Modern Italians became the very opposite of +the ancient Romans. The Spaniards on the west are now the Romans, and +the Italians, the Greeks. The Spaniards are slow, strong, conservative; +the Italians, quick-witted, full of feeling and sentiment, versatile. +The Spaniards trust to organization, the Italians to enthusiasm. The +Spaniards are practical, the Italians ideal. In fine, the Spaniards, on +the west, are like the English and the ancient Romans; the Italians, +on the east, like the French and the Greeks. The English pride, the +Roman pride, the Spanish pride, we have all heard of; but the French, +the Greeks, and the Italians are not so much inclined to pride and the +love of power, as to vanity and the love of fame. England, Rome, and +Spain, united by law and the love of organization, gradually became +solidified into empires; Greece, Italy, and France were always divided +into independent states, provinces, or republics. + +Now, let us go east and consider two empires that have grown up, side +by side, with constant mutual relations: Japan and China. The people +of Japan, on the east, are described by all travelers in language +that might be applied to the ancient Greeks or the modern French. They +are said to be quick-witted, lively, volatile, ready of apprehension, +with a keen sense of honor, which prefers death to disgrace; eminently +a social and pleasure-seeking people, fond of feasts, dancing, music, +and frolics. Men and women are pleasing, polite, affable. On the +other hand, the Chinese are described as more given to reason than +to sentiment, prosaic, slow to acquire, but tenacious of all that is +gained, very conservative, great lovers of law and order; with little +taste for art, but much national pride. They are the English of Asia; +the Japanese, the French. + +Go back to earlier times, when the two oldest branches of the great +Aryan stock diverged on the table-lands of central Asia; the Vedic +race descending into India, and the Zend people passing west, into +Persia. The same duplex development took place that we have seen +in other instances. The people on the Indus became what they still +are,--a people of sentiment and feeling. Like the French, they are +polite, and cultivate civility and courtesy. The same tendency to +local administration which we see in France is found in India; the +commune being, in both, the germ-cell of national life. The village +communities in India are little republics, almost independent of +anything outside. Dynasties change, new rulers and kings arrive; +Hindoo, Mohammedan, English; but the village community remains the +same. Like the Japanese, the French, the Italians, the inhabitants +of India are skillful manufacturers of ornamental articles. Their +religion tends to sentiment more than to morality,--to feeling, rather +than to action. This is the development which India took when these +races inhabited the Punjaub. But the ancient Persians were different. +Their religion included a morality which placed its essence in right +thinking and right action. A sentimental religion, like that of India +and of Italy, tends to the adoration of saints and holy images and to +multiplied ceremonies. A moral religion, like that of Persia, of Judea, +and of the Teutonic races, tends to the adoration and service of the +unseen. The Hindoos had innumerable gods, temples, idols. The Persians +worshiped the sacred fire, without temple, priest, altar, sacrifice, +or ritual. The ancient Persians, wholly unlike the modern Persians, +were a people of action, energy, enterprise. But when the old Persian +empire fell, the character of the people changed. Just as in Italy +the old Roman type disappeared, and was replaced by the opposite in +the modern Italian, so modern Persia has swung round to the opposite +pole of national character. The Persians and Turks, both professing +the Mohammedan religion, belong to different sects of that faith. The +Turks are proud, tenacious of old customs, grave in their demeanor, +generally just in their dealings, keeping their word. The Persians, as +they appear in the works of Malcolm and Monier, are changeable, kindly, +polite, given to ceremonies, fond of poetry, with taste for fine art +and decoration,--a mobile people. The Turk is silent, the Persian +talkative. The Turk is proud and cold, the Persian affable and full of +sentiment. In short, the Persian is the Frenchman, and the Turk the +Englishman. And here again, as in the other cases, the French type of +nationality unfolds itself on the east, and the English on the west. + +These national doubles have not been exhausted. We have other instances +of twin nations, born of much the same confluence of race elements, +of whom, as of Esau and Jacob, it might be predicted to the mother +race, "Two nations shall be born of thee; two kinds of people shall go +forth from thee; and the one shall be stronger than the other." Thus +there are the twin races which inhabit Sweden and Norway; the Swedes, +on the east, are more intelligent, quick-witted, and versatile; the +Norwegians, on the west, slow, persistent, and disposed to foreign +conquest and adventure, as shown in the sea-kings, who discovered +Iceland, Greenland, and Vinland; and the modern emigrants who reap the +vast wheatfields of Minnesota. So, too, we might speak of the Poles and +Germans. The Polish nation, on the east, resembling the French; the +German, on the west, the English. + +But time will not allow me to carry out these parallels into details. +The question is, are these mere coincidences, or do they belong to the +homologons of history, where the same law of progress repeats itself +under different conditions, as the skeleton of the mammal is found in +the whale. Such curious homologons we find in national events, and they +can hardly be explained as accidental coincidences. For instance, the +English and French revolutions proceeded by six identical steps. First, +an insurrection of the people. Secondly, the dethronement and execution +of the king. Thirdly, a military usurper. Fourthly, the old line +restored. Fifthly, after the death of the restored king, his brother +succeeds to the throne. Sixthly, a second revolution drives the brother +into exile, and a constitutional king of a collateral branch takes his +place. + +But if these doubles which I have described come by some mysterious law +of polar force, as in the magnet, where the two kinds of electricity +are repelled to opposite poles, and yet attract each other, how +account for the regularity of the geographical position? Why is the +French, Greek, Hindoo, Persian, Italian, Polish, Swedish type always +at the east, and the English, Roman, Iranic, Ottoman, Spanish, German, +Norwegian type always at the west? Are nations, like tides, affected +by the diurnal revolution of the globe? This, I confess, I am unable +to explain; and I leave it to others to consider whether what I have +described is pure coincidence, or if it belongs in some way to the +philosophy of history and comes under universal law. + + + + +DID SHAKESPEARE WRITE BACON'S WORKS[3] + + +The greatest of English poets is Shakespeare. The greatest prose writer +in English literature is probably Bacon. Each of these writers, alone, +is a marvel of intellectual grandeur. It is hard to understand how +one man, in a few years, could have written all the masterpieces of +Shakespeare,--thirty-six dramas, each a work of genius such as the +world will never let die. It is a marvel that from one mind could +proceed the tender charm of such poems as "Romeo and Juliet," "As You +Like It," or "The Winter's Tale;" the wild romance of "The Tempest," +or of "A Midsummer Night's Dream;" the awful tragedies of "Lear," +"Macbeth," and "Othello;" the profound philosophy of "Hamlet;" the +perfect fun of "Twelfth Night," and "The Merry Wives of Windsor;" and +the reproductions of Roman and English history. It is another marvel +that a man like Bacon, immersed nearly all his life in business, a +successful lawyer, an ambitious statesman, a courtier cultivating the +society of the sovereign and the favorites of the sovereign, should +also be the founder of a new system of philosophy, which has been the +source of many inventions and new sciences down to the present day; +should have critically surveyed the whole domain of knowledge, and +become a master of English literary style. Each of these phenomena is +a marvel; but put them together, and assume that one man did it all, +and you have, not a marvel, but a miracle. Yet, this is the result +which the monistic tendency of modern thought has reached. Several +critics of our time have attempted to show that Bacon, besides writing +all the works usually attributed to him, was also the author of all of +Shakespeare's plays and poems. + +This theory was first publicly maintained by Miss Delia Bacon in +1857. It had been, before, in 1856, asserted by an Englishman, +William Henry Smith, but only in a small volume printed for private +circulation. This book made a distinguished convert in the person of +Lord Palmerston, who openly declared his conviction that Bacon was the +author of Shakespeare's plays. Two papers by Appleton Morgan, written +in the same sense, appeared last year in "Appletons' Journal." But far +the most elaborate and masterly work in support of this attempt to +dethrone Shakespeare, and to give his seat on the summit of Parnassus +to Lord Bacon, is the book by Judge Holmes, published in 1866. He has +shown much ability, and brought forward every argument which has any +plausibility connected with it. + +Judge Holmes was, of course, obliged to admit the extreme antecedent +improbability of his position. Certainly it is very difficult to +believe that the author of such immortal works should have been +willing, for any reason, permanently to conceal his authorship; or, +if he could hide that fact, should have been willing to give the +authorship to another; or, if willing, should have been able so +effectually to conceal the substitution as to blind the eyes of all +mankind down to the days of Miss Delia Bacon and Judge Holmes. + +What, then, are the arguments used by Judge Holmes? The proofs he +adduces are mainly these: (1st) That there are many coincidences and +parallelisms of thought and expression between the works of Bacon and +Shakespeare; (2d) that there is an amount of knowledge and learning +in the plays, which Lord Bacon possessed, but which Shakespeare could +hardly have had. Besides these principal proofs, there are many other +reasons given which are of inferior weight,--a phrase in a letter of +Sir Tobie Matthew; another sentence of Bacon himself, which might be +possibly taken as an admission that he was the author of "Richard II.;" +the fact that some plays which Shakespeare certainly did not write were +first published with his name or his initials. But his chief argument +is that Shakespeare had neither the learning nor the time to write the +plays, both of which Lord Bacon possessed; and that there are curious +coincidences between the plays and the prose works. + +These arguments have all been answered, and the world still believes in +Shakespeare as before. But I have thought it might be interesting to +show how easily another argument could be made of an exactly opposite +kind,--how easily all these proofs might be reversed. I am inclined +to think that if we are to believe that one man was the author both +of the plays and of the philosophy, it is much more probable that +Shakespeare wrote the works of Bacon than that Bacon wrote the works +of Shakespeare. For there is no evidence that Bacon was a poet as well +as a philosopher; but there is ample evidence that Shakespeare was a +philosopher as well as a poet. This, no doubt, assumes that Shakespeare +actually wrote the plays; but this we have a right to assume, in the +outset of the discussion, in order to stand on an equal ground with our +opponents. + +The Bacon vs. Shakespeare argument runs thus: "Assuming that Lord +Bacon wrote the works commonly attributed to him, there is reason to +believe that he also wrote the plays and poems commonly attributed to +Shakespeare." + +The counter argument would then be: "Assuming that Shakespeare wrote +the plays, and poems commonly attributed to him, there is reason to +believe that he also wrote the works commonly attributed to Bacon." + +This is clearly the fair basis of the discussion. What is assumed on +the one side on behalf of Bacon we have a right to assume on the other +on behalf of Shakespeare. But before proceeding on this basis, I must +reply to the only argument of Judge Holmes which has much apparent +weight. He contends that it was impossible for Shakespeare, with the +opportunities he possessed, to acquire the knowledge which we find +in the plays. Genius, however great, cannot give the knowledge of +medical and legal terms, nor of the ancient languages. Now, it has +been shown that the plays afford evidence of a great knowledge of law +and medicine; and of works in Latin and Greek, French and Italian. +How could such information have been obtained by a boy who had no +advantages of study except at a country grammar school, which he +left at the age of fourteen, who went to London at twenty-three and +became an actor, and who spent most of his life as actor, theatrical +proprietor, and man of business? + +This objection presents difficulties to us, and for our time, when +boys sometimes spend years in the study of Latin grammar. We cannot +understand the rapidity with which all sorts of knowledge were imbibed +in the period of the Renaissance. Then every one studied everything. +Then Greek and Latin books were read by prince and peasant, by queens +and generals. Then all sciences and arts were learned by men and women, +by young and old. Thus speaks Robert Burton--who was forty years old +when Shakespeare died: "What a world of books offers itself, in all +subjects, arts and sciences, to the sweet content and capacity of the +reader! In arithmetic, geometry, perspective, opticks, astronomy, +architecture, _sculptura_, _pictura_, of which so many and elaborate +treatises have lately been written; in mechanics and their mysteries, +military matters, navigation, riding of horses, fencing, swimming, +gardening, planting, great tomes of husbandry, cookery, faulconry, +hunting, fishing, fowling; with exquisite pictures of all sports and +games.... What vast tomes are extant in law, physic, and divinity, +for profit, pleasure, practice.... Some take an infinite delight to +study the very languages in which these books were written: Hebrew, +Greek, Syriac, Chaldee, Arabick, and the like." This was the fashion +of that day, to study all languages, all subjects, all authors. A mind +like that of Shakespeare could not have failed to share this universal +desire for knowledge. After leaving the grammar school, he had nine +years for such studies before he went to London. As soon as he began +to write plays, he had new motives for study; for the subjects of the +drama in vogue were often taken from classic story. + +But Shakespeare had access to another source of knowledge besides +the study of books. When he reached London, five or six play-houses +were in full activity, and new plays were produced every year in +vast numbers. New plays were then in constant demand, just as the new +novel and new daily or weekly paper are called for now. The drama was +the periodical literature of the time. Dramatic authors wrote with +wonderful rapidity, borrowing their subjects from plays already on +the stage, and from classic or recent history. Marlowe, Greene, Lyly, +Peele, Kyd, Lodge, Nash, Chettle, Munday, Wilson, were all dramatic +writers before Shakespeare. Philip Henslowe, a manager or proprietor +of the theatres, bought two hundred and seventy plays in about ten +years. Thomas Heywood wrote a part or the whole of two hundred and +twenty plays during his dramatic career. Each acted play furnished +material for some other. They were the property of the play-houses, not +of the writers. One writer after another has accused Shakespeare of +indifference to his reputation, because he did not publish a complete +and revised edition of his works during his life. How could he do +this, since they did not belong to him, but to the theatre? Yet every +writer was at full liberty to make use of all he could remember of +other plays, as he saw them acted; and Shakespeare was not slow to use +this opportunity. No doubt he gained knowledge in this way, which he +afterward employed much better than did the authors from whom he took +it. + +The first plays printed under Shakespeare's name did not appear +till he had been connected with the stage eleven years. This gives +time enough for him to have acquired all the knowledge to be found +in his books. That he had read Latin and Greek books we are told by +Ben Jonson; though that great scholar undervalued, as was natural, +Shakespeare's attainments in those languages. + +But Ben Jonson himself furnishes the best reply to those who think +that Shakespeare could not have gained much knowledge of science +or literature because he did not go to Oxford or Cambridge. What +opportunities had Ben Jonson? A bricklayer by trade, called back +immediately from his studies to use the trowel; then running away and +enlisting as a common soldier; fighting in the Low Countries; coming +home at nineteen, and going on the stage; sent to prison for fighting +a duel--what opportunities for study had he? He was of a strong animal +nature, combative, in perpetual quarrels, fond of drink, in pecuniary +troubles, married at twenty, with a wife and children to support. Yet +Jonson was celebrated for his learning. He was master of Greek and +Latin literature. He took his characters from Athenaeus, Libanius, +Philostratus. Somehow he had found time for all this study. "Greek +and Latin thought," says Taine, "were incorporated with his own, and +made a part of it. He knew alchemy, and was as familiar with alembics, +retorts, crucibles, etc., as if he had passed his life in seeking +the philosopher's stone. He seems to have had a specialty in every +branch of knowledge. He had all the methods of Latin art,--possessed +the brilliant conciseness of Seneca and Lucan." If Ben Jonson--a +bricklayer, a soldier, a fighter, a drinker--could yet find time to +acquire this vast knowledge, is there any reason why Shakespeare, with +much more leisure, might not have done the like? He did not possess as +much Greek and Latin lore as Ben Jonson, who, probably, had Shakespeare +in his mind when he wrote the following passage in his "Poetaster:" + + "His learning savors not the school-like gloss + That most consists in echoing words and terms, + And soonest wins a man an empty name; + Nor any long or far-fetched circumstance + Wrapt in the curious generalties of art-- + But a direct and analytic sum + Of all the worth and first effects of art. + And for his poesy, 'tis so rammed with life, + That it shall gather strength of life with being, + And live hereafter more admired than now." + +The only other serious proof offered in support of the proposition +that Bacon wrote the immortal Shakespearean drama is that certain +coincidences of thought and language are found in the works of the two +writers. When we examine them, however, they seem very insignificant. +Take, as an example, two or three, on which Judge Holmes relies, and +which he thinks very striking. + +Holmes says (page 48) that Bacon quotes Aristotle, who said that +"young men were no fit hearers of moral philosophy," and Shakespeare +says ("Troilus and Cressida"):-- + + "Unlike young men whom Aristotle thought + Unfit to hear moral philosophy." + +But since Bacon's remark was published in 1605, and "Troilus and +Cressida" did not appear until 1609, Shakespeare might have seen it +there, and introduced it into his play from his recollection of the +passage in the "Advancement of Learning." + +Another coincidence mentioned by Holmes is that both writers use the +word "thrust:" Bacon saying that a ship "thrust into Weymouth;" and +Shakespeare, that "Milan was thrust from Milan." He also thinks it +cannot be an accident that both frequently use the word "wilderness," +though in very different ways. Both also compare Queen Elizabeth to a +"star." Bacon makes Atlantis an island in mid-ocean; and the island +of Prospero is also in mid-ocean. Both have a good deal to say about +"mirrors," and "props," and like phrases. + +Such reasoning as this has very little weight. You cannot prove two +contemporaneous writings to have proceeded from one author by the same +words and phrases being found in both; for these are in the vocabulary +of the time, and are the common property of all who read and write. + +My position is that if either of these writers wrote the works +attributed to the other, it is much more likely that Shakespeare wrote +the philosophical works of Bacon than that Bacon wrote the poetical +works of Shakespeare. Assuming then, as we have a right to do in this +argument, that Shakespeare wrote the plays, what reasons are there for +believing that he also wrote the philosophy? + +First, this assumption will explain at once that hitherto insoluble +problem of the contradiction between Bacon's character and conduct and +his works. How could he have been, at the same time, what Pope calls +him,-- + + "The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind"? + +He was, in his philosophy, the leader of his age, the reformer of old +abuses, the friend of progress. In his conduct, he was, as Macaulay has +shown, "far behind his age,--far behind Sir Edward Coke; clinging to +exploded abuses, withstanding the progress of improvement, struggling +to push back the human mind." In his writings, he was calm, dignified, +noble. In his life, he was an office-seeker through long years, +seeking place by cringing subservience to men in power, made wretched +to the last degree when office was denied him, addressing servile +supplications to noblemen and to the sovereign. To gain and keep office +he would desert his friends, attack his benefactors, and make abject +apologies for any manly word he might have incautiously uttered. His +philosophy rose far above earth and time, and sailed supreme in the +air of universal reason. But "his desires were set on things below. +Wealth, precedence, titles, patronage, the mace, the seals, the +coronet, large houses, fair gardens, rich manors, massy services of +plate, gay hangings," were "objects for which he stooped to everything +and endured everything." These words of Macaulay have been thought too +severe. But we defy any admirer of Bacon to read his life, by Spedding, +without admitting their essential truth. How was it possible for a man +to spend half of his life in the meanest of pursuits, and the other +half in the noblest? + +This difficulty is removed if we suppose that Bacon, the courtier and +lawyer, with his other ambitions, was desirous of the fame of a great +philosopher; and that he induced Shakespeare, then in the prime of his +powers, to help him write the prose essays and treatises which are his +chief works. He has himself admitted that he did actually ask the aid +of the dramatists of his time in writing his books. This remarkable +fact is stated by Bacon in a letter to Tobie Matthew, written in June, +1623, in which he says that he is devoting himself to making his +writings more perfect--instancing the "Essays" and the "Advancement of +Learning"--"by the help of some good pens, which forsake me not." One +of these pens was that of Ben Jonson, the other might easily have been +that of Shakespeare. Certainly there was no better pen in England at +that time than his. + +When Shakespeare's plays were being produced, Lord Bacon was fully +occupied in his law practice, his parliamentary duties, and his +office-seeking. The largest part of the Shakespeare drama was put on +the stage, as modern research renders probable, in the ten or twelve +years beginning with 1590. In 1597 Shakespeare was rich enough to buy +the new place at Stratford-on-Avon, and was also lending money. In 1604 +he was part owner of the Globe Theatre, so that the majority of the +plays which gained for him this fortune must have been produced before +that time. Now, these were just the busiest years of Bacon's life. In +1584 he was elected to Parliament. About the same time, he wrote his +famous letter to Queen Elizabeth. In 1585 he was already seeking office +from Walsingham and Burleigh. In 1586 he sat in Parliament for Taunton, +and was active in debate and on committees. He became a bencher in the +same year, and began to plead in the courts of Westminster. In 1589 he +became queen's counsel, and member of Parliament for Liverpool. After +this he continued active, both in Parliament and at the bar. He sought, +by the help of Essex, to become Attorney-General. From that period, as +crown lawyer, his whole time and thought were required to trace and +frustrate the conspiracies with which the kingdom was full. It was +evident that during these years he had no time to compose fifteen or +twenty of the greatest works in any literature. + +But how was Shakespeare occupied when Bacon's philosophy appeared? The +"Advancement of Learning" was published in 1605, after most of the +plays had been written, as we learn from the fact of Shakespeare's +purchase of houses and lands. The "Novum Organum" was published in +1620, after Shakespeare's death. But it had been written years before; +revised, altered, and copied again and again--it is said twelve times. +Bacon had been engaged upon it during thirty years, and it was at last +published incomplete and in fragments. If Shakespeare assisted in the +composition of this work, his death in 1616 would account, at once, for +its being left unfinished. And Shakespeare would have had ample time to +furnish the ideas of the "Organum" in the last years of his life, when +he had left the theatre. In 1613 he bought a house in Black Friars, +where Ben Jonson also lived. Might not this have been that they might +more conveniently cooperate in assisting Bacon to write the "Novum +Organum"? + +When we ask whether it would have been easier for the author of the +philosophy to have composed the drama, or the dramatic poet to have +written the philosophy, the answer will depend on which is the greater +work of the two. The greater includes the less, but the less cannot +include the greater. Now, the universal testimony of modern criticism +in England, Germany, and France declares that no larger, deeper, or +ampler intellect has ever appeared than that which produced the +Shakespeare drama. This "myriad-minded" poet was also philosopher, +man of the world, acquainted with practical affairs, one of those who +saw the present and foresaw the future. All the ideas of the Baconian +philosophy might easily have had their home in this vast intelligence. +Great as are the thoughts of the "Novum Organum," they are far inferior +to that world of thought which is in the drama. We can easily conceive +that Shakespeare, having produced in his prime the wonders and glories +of the plays, should in his after leisure have developed the leading +ideas of the Baconian philosophy. But it is difficult to imagine that +Bacon, while devoting his main strength to politics, to law, and to +philosophy, should as a mere pastime for his leisure, have produced in +his idle moments the greatest intellectual work ever done on earth. + +If the greater includes the less, the mind of Shakespeare includes that +of Bacon, and not _vice versa_. This will appear more plainly if we +consider the quality of intellect displayed respectively in the dramas +and the philosophy. The one is synthetic, creative; the other analytic, +critical. The one puts together, the other takes apart and examines. +Now, the genius which can put together can also take apart; but it by +no means follows that the power of taking apart implies that of putting +together. A watch-maker, who can put a watch together, can easily take +it to pieces; but many a child who has taken his watch to pieces has +found it impossible to put it together again. + +When we compare the Shakespeare plays and the Baconian philosophy, it +is curious to see how the one is throughout a display of the synthetic +intellect, and the other of the analytic. The plays are pure creation, +the production of living wholes. They people our thought with a race of +beings who are living persons, and not pale abstractions. These airy +nothings take flesh and form, and have a name and local habitation +forever on the earth. Hamlet, Desdemona, Othello, Miranda, are as +real people as Queen Elizabeth or Mary of Scotland. But when we turn +to the Baconian philosophy, this faculty is absent. We have entered +the laboratory of a great chemist, and are surrounded by retorts and +crucibles, tests and re-agents, where the work done is a careful +analysis of all existing things, to find what are their constituents +and their qualities. Poetry creates, philosophy takes to pieces and +examines. + +It is, I think, a historic fact, that while those authors whose primary +quality is poetic genius have often been also, on a lower plane, +eminent as philosophers, there is, perhaps, not a single instance of +one whose primary distinction was philosophic analysis, who has also +been, on a lower plane, eminent as a poet. Milton, Petrarch, Goethe, +Lucretius, Voltaire, Coleridge, were primarily and eminently poets; +but all excelled, too, in a less degree, as logicians, metaphysicians, +men of science, and philosophers. But what instance have we of any man +like Bacon, chiefly eminent as lawyer, statesman, and philosopher, +who was also distinguished, though in a less degree, as a poet? Among +great lawyers, is there one eminent also as a dramatic or lyric author? +Cicero tried it, but his verses are only doggerel. In Lord Campbell's +list of the lord chancellors and chief justices of England no such +instance appears. If Bacon wrote the Shakespeare drama, he is the one +exception to an otherwise universal rule. But if Shakespeare cooperated +in the production of the Baconian philosophy, he belongs to a class of +poets who have done the same. Coleridge was one of the most imaginative +of poets. His "Christabel" and "Ancient Mariner" are pure creations. +But in later life he originated a new system of philosophy in England, +the influence of which has not ceased to be felt to our day. The +case would be exactly similar if we suppose that Shakespeare, having +ranged the realm of imaginative poetry in his youth, had in his later +days of leisure cooperated with Bacon and Ben Jonson in producing the +"Advancement of Learning" and the "Novum Organum." We can easily think +of them as meeting, sometimes at the house of Ben Jonson, sometimes +at that of Shakespeare in Black Friars, and sometimes guests at that +private house built by Lord Bacon for purposes of study, near his +splendid palace of Gorhambury. "A most ingeniously contrived house," +says Basil Montagu, "where, in the society of his philosophical +friends, he devoted himself to study and meditation." Aubrey tells +us that he had the aid of Hobbes in writing down his thoughts. Lord +Bacon appears to have possessed the happy gift of using other men's +faculties in his service. Ben Jonson, who had been a thorough student +of chemistry, alchemy, and science in all the forms then known, aided +Bacon in his observations of nature. Hobbes aided him in giving +clearness to his thoughts and his language. And from Shakespeare he +may have derived the radical and central ideas of his philosophy. He +used the help of Dr. Playfer to translate his philosophy into Latin. +Tobie Matthew gives him the last argument of Galileo for the Copernican +system. He sends his works to others, begging them to correct the +thoughts and the style. It is evident, then, that he would have been +glad of the concurrence of Shakespeare, and that could easily be had, +through their common friend, Ben Jonson. + +If Bacon wrote the plays of Shakespeare, it is difficult to give any +satisfactory reason for his concealment of that authorship. He had +much pride, not to say vanity, in being known as an author. He had his +name attached to all his other works, and sent them as presents to the +universities, and to individuals, with letters calling their attention +to these books. Would he have been willing permanently to conceal +the fact of his being the author of the best poetry of his time? +The reasons assigned by Judge Holmes for this are not satisfactory. +They are: his desire to rise in the profession of the law, the low +reputation of a play-writer, his wish to write more freely under an +incognito, and his wish to rest his reputation on his philosophical +works. But if he were reluctant to be regarded as the author of "Lear" +and "Hamlet," he was willing to be known as the writer of "Masques," +and a play about "Arthur," exhibited by the students of Gray's Inn. +It is an error to say that the reputation of a play-writer was low. +Judge Holmes, himself, tells us that there was nothing remarkable in a +barrister of the inns of court writing for the stage. Ford and Beaumont +were both lawyers as well as eminent play-writers. Lord Backhurst, +Lord Brooke, Sir Henry Wotton, all wrote plays. And we find nothing in +the Shakespeare dramas which Bacon need have feared to say under his +own name. It would have been ruin to Sir Philip Francis to have avowed +himself the author of "Junius." But the Shakespeare plays satirized no +one, and made no enemies. If there were any reasons for concealment, +they certainly do not apply to the year 1623, when the first folio +appeared, which was after the death of Shakespeare and the fall of +Bacon. The acknowledgment of their authorship at that time could no +longer interfere with Bacon's rise. And it would be very little to the +credit of his intelligence to assume that he was not then aware of the +value of such works, or that he did not desire the reputation of being +their author. It would have been contrary to his very nature not to +have wished for the credit of that authorship. + +On the other hand, there would be nothing surprising in the fact of +Shakespeare's laying no claim to credit for having assisted in the +composition of the "Advancement of Learning." Shakespeare was by nature +as reticent and modest as Bacon was egotistical and ostentatious. What +a veil is drawn over the poet's personality in his sonnets! We read in +them his inmost sentiments, but they tell us absolutely nothing of the +events of his life, or the facts of his position. And if, as we assume, +he was one among several who helped Lord Bacon, though he might have +done the most, there was no special reason why he should proclaim that +fact. + +Gervinus has shown, in three striking pages, the fundamental harmony +between the ideas and mental tendencies of Shakespeare and Bacon. Their +philosophy of man and of life was the same. If, then, Bacon needed to +be helped in thinking out his system, there was no one alive who would +have given him such stimulus and encouragement as Shakespeare. This +also may explain his not mentioning the name of Shakespeare in his +works; for that might have called too much attention to the source from +which he received this important aid. + +Nevertheless, I regard the monistic theory as in the last degree +improbable. We have two great authors, and not one only. But if we +are compelled to accept the view which ascribes a common source to +the Shakespeare drama and the Baconian philosophy, I think there are +good reasons for preferring Shakespeare to Bacon as the author of +both. When the plays appeared, Bacon was absorbed in pursuits and +ambitions foreign to such work; his accepted writings show no sign of +such creative power; he was the last man in the world not to take the +credit of such a success, and had no motive to conceal his authorship. +On the other hand, there was a period in Shakespeare's life when he had +abundant leisure to cooperate in the literary plans of Bacon; his ample +intellect was full of the ideas which took form in those works; and +he was just the person neither to claim nor to desire any credit for +lending such assistance. + +There is, certainly, every reason to believe that, among his other +ambitions, Bacon desired that of striking out a new path of discovery, +and initiating a better method in the study of nature. But we know +that, in doing this, he sought aid in all quarters, and especially +among Shakespeare's friends and companions. It is highly probable, +therefore, that he became acquainted with the great dramatist, and that +Shakespeare knew of Bacon's designs and became interested in them. And +if so, who could offer better suggestions than he; and who would more +willingly accept them than the overworked statesman and lawyer, who +wished to be also a philosopher? + +Finally, we may refer those who believe that the shape of the brow and +head indicates the quality of mental power to the portraits of the two +men. The head of Shakespeare, according to all the busts and pictures +which remain to us, belongs to the type which antiquity has transmitted +to us in the portraits of Homer and Plato. In this vast dome of thought +there was room for everything. The head of Bacon is also a grand one, +but less ample, less complete--less + + "Teres, totus atque rotundus." + +These portraits therefore agree with all we know of the writings, in +showing us which, and which only, of the two minds was capable of +containing the other. + + + + +THE EVOLUTION OF A GREAT POEM[4] + + +There are at least three existing manuscripts of Grays "Elegy," in +the author's autograph. The earliest, containing the largest number +of variations and the most curious, is that now in the possession of +Sir William Fraser in London, and for which he paid the large sum +of L230, in 1875. By the kindness of Sir William Fraser, I examined +this manuscript at his rooms in London, in 1882. A facsimile copy of +this valuable autograph, photographed from the original in 1862, is +now before me. A second copy in the handwriting of Gray, called the +Pembroke manuscript, is in the library of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. A +facsimile of this autograph appears in Matthias's edition of Mason's +"Gray," published in 1814. A third copy, in the poet's handwriting, +copied by him for his friend, Dr. Wharton, is in the British Museum. I +examined this, also, in 1882, and had an accurate copy made for me by +one of the assistants in the museum. This was written after the other +two, as is evident from the fact that it approaches most nearly to the +form which the "Elegy" finally assumed when printed. There are only +nine or ten expressions in this manuscript which differ from the poem +as published by Gray. Most of these are unimportant. "_Or_" he changed, +in three places, into "and." "_And_ in our ashes" he changed into "Even +in our ashes," which was a clear improvement. It was not until after +this third copy was written that the improvement was made which changed + + "Forgive, ye Proud, the involuntary Fault, + If Memory to These no Trophies raise," + +into + + "Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, + If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise." + +Another important alteration of a single word was also made after this +third manuscript was written. This was the change, in the forty-fifth +stanza, of "Reins of Empire" into "Rod of Empire." + +"The Elegy in a Country Churchyard" became at once one of the most +popular poems in the language, and has remained so to this time. It has +been equally a favorite with common readers, with literary men, and +with poets. Its place will always be in the highest rank of English +poetry. The fact, however, is--and it is a very curious fact--that this +first-class poem was the work of a third-class poet. For Thomas Gray +certainly does not stand in the first class with Shakespeare, Spenser, +and Milton. Nor can he fairly be put in the second class with Dryden, +Pope, Burns, Wordsworth, and Byron. He belongs to the third, with +Cowley, Cowper, Shelley, and Keats. There may be a doubt concerning +some of whom I have named, but there can be no doubt that Gray will +never stand higher than those who may be placed by critics in the third +class. Yet it is equally certain that he has produced a first-class +poem. How is this paradox to be explained? + +What is the charm of Gray's "Elegy"? The thoughts are sufficiently +commonplace. That all men must die, that the most humble may have had +in them some power which, under other circumstances, might have made +them famous,--these are somewhat trite statements; but the fascination +of the verses consists in the tone, solemn but serene, which pervades +them; in the pictures of coming night, of breaking day, of cheerful +rural life, of happy homes; and lastly, in the perfect finish of the +verse and the curious felicity of the diction. In short, the poem is a +work of high art. It was not inspired, but it was carefully elaborated. +And this appears plainly when we compare it, as it stands in the Fraser +manuscript, with its final form. + +This poem was a work of eight years. Its heading in the Fraser +manuscript is "Stanzas Wrote in a Country Churchyard." It was, however, +begun at Stoke in 1742, continued at Cambridge, and had its last +touches added at Stoke-Pogis, June 12, 1750. In a letter to Horace +Walpole of that date, Gray says, "Having put an end to a thing whose +beginning you saw long ago, I immediately send it to you." + +The corrections made by Gray during this period were many, and were +probably all improvements. Many poets when they try to improve their +verses only injure them. But Gray's corrections were invariably for +the better. We may even say that, if it had been published as it was +first written, and as it now stands in the Fraser manuscript, it would +have ranked only with the best poetry of Shenstone or Cowper. Let me +indicate some of the most important changes. + +In line seventeen, the fine epithet of "incense-breathing" was an +addition. + + "The breezy call of incense-breathing morn," + +for the Fraser manuscript reads-- + + "Forever sleep. The breezy call of morn." + +Nineteenth line, Fraser manuscript has-- + + "Or chanticleer so shrill, or echoing horn," + +corrected to + + "The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn." + +Twenty-fourth--"Coming kiss" was corrected to "envied kiss." + +Forty-third--"Awake the silent dust" was corrected to "provoke the +silent dust." + +Forty-seventh--The correction of "Reins of Empire" to "Rod of Empire" +first appears in the margin of the Pembroke manuscript. + +Fifty-seventh--In the Fraser manuscript it reads-- + + "Some village Cato, who with dauntless breast, + Some mute, inglorious Tully here may rest; + Some Caesar," etc. + +In the Pembroke manuscript, these classical personages have +disappeared, and the great improvement was made of substituting +Hampden, Milton, and Cromwell, and thus maintaining the English +coloring of the poem. + +Fifty-first--This verse, beginning, "But Knowledge," etc., was placed, +in the Fraser manuscript, after the one beginning, "Some village Cato," +but with a note in the margin to transfer it to where it now stands. +The third line of the stanza was first written, "Chill Penury had +damped." This was first corrected to "depressed," and afterward to +"repressed." + +Fifty-fifth--"Their fate forbade," changed to "Their lot forbade." + +Sixty-sixth--"Their struggling virtues" was improved to "Their growing +virtues." + +Seventy-first--"Crown the shrine" was altered to "heap the shrine," +and in the next line "Incense hallowed by the muse's flame" was wisely +changed to "Incense kindled by the muse's flame." + +After the seventy-second line stand, in the Fraser manuscript, the +following stanzas, which Gray, with admirable taste, afterward omitted. +But, before he decided to leave them out altogether, he drew a black +line down the margin, indicating that he would transfer them to another +place. These stanzas were originally intended to close the poem. +Afterward the thought occurred to him of "the hoary-headed swain" and +the "Epitaph." + + "The thoughtless World to Majesty may bow, + Exalt the Brave and idolize Success, + But more to Innocence their safety owe + Than Power and Genius e'er conspire to bless. + + "And thou, who, mindful of the unhonored Dead, + Dost, in these Notes, their artless Tale relate, + By Night and lonely Contemplation led + To linger in the gloomy Walks of Fate; + + "Hark, how the sacred Calm that broods around + Bids every fierce, tumultuous Passion cease, + In still, small Accents whispering from the Ground + A grateful Earnest of eternal Peace. + + "No more with Reason and thyself at Strife, + Give anxious Cares and useless Wishes room; + But through the cool, sequestered Vale of Life + Pursue the silent Tenor of thy Doom." + +After these stanzas, according to the Fraser manuscript, were to follow +these lines, which I do not remember to have seen elsewhere:-- + + "If chance that e'er some pensive Spirit more, + By sympathetic Musings here delayed, + With vain though kind Enquiry shall explore + Thy once-loved Haunt, thy long-neglected Shade, + + "Haply," etc. + +But Gray soon dispensed with this feeble stanza, and made a new one by +changing it into the one beginning:-- + + "For thee, who mindful." + +The ninety-ninth and one hundredth lines stand in the Fraser +manuscript-- + + "With hasty footsteps brush the dews away + On the high brow of yonder hanging lawn." + +The following stanza is noticeable for the inversions so frequent +in Gray, and which he had, perhaps, unconsciously adopted from his +familiarity with the classics. He afterward omitted it:-- + + "Him have we seen the greenwood side along, + While o'er the heath we hied, our labors done. + Oft as the wood-lark piped her farewell song, + With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun." + +In the manuscript the word is spelled "whistful." In line 101, "hoary +beech" is corrected to "spreading beech," and afterward to "nodding +beech." + +Line 113--"Dirges meet" was changed to "dirges dire;" and after 116 +came the beautiful stanza, afterward omitted by Gray as being _de trop_ +in this place:-- + + "There, scattered oft, the earliest of the year, + By hands unseen, are showers of violets found; + The redbreast loves to build and warble there, + And little footsteps lightly print the ground." + +Even in this verse there were two corrections. "Robin" was altered in +the Fraser manuscript into "redbreast," and "frequent violets" into +"showers of violets." + +One of the most curious accidents to which this famous poem has been +subjected was an erroneous change made in the early editions, which has +been propagated almost to our time. In the stanza beginning-- + + "The boast of Heraldry, the pomp of Power," + +Gray wrote + + "Awaits alike the inevitable Hour." + +And so it stands in all three manuscripts, and in the printed edition +which he himself superintended. His meaning was, "The inevitable Hour +awaits everything. It stands there, waiting the boast of Heraldry," +etc. But his editors, misled by his inverted style, supposed that it +was the gifts of Heraldry, Power, Beauty, etc., that were waiting, and +therefore corrected what they thought Gray's bad grammar, and printed +the word "await." But so they destroyed the meaning. These things were +not waiting at all for the dread hour; they were enjoying themselves, +careless of its approach. But "the hour" was waiting for them. Gray's +original reading has been restored in the last editions. + +In tracing the development of this fine poem, we see it gradually +improving under his careful touch, till it becomes a work of high art. +In some poets--Wordsworth, for example--inspiration is at its maximum, +and art at its minimum. In Gray, I think, inspiration was at its +minimum, and art at its maximum. + + + + +RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL + + + + +AFFINITIES OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY[5] + + +It has long been known that many analogies exist between Buddhism +and Christianity. The ceremonies, ritual, and rites of the Buddhists +strikingly resemble those of the Roman Catholic Church. The Buddhist +priests are monks. They take the same three vows of poverty, chastity, +and obedience which are binding on those of the Roman Church. They are +mendicants, like the mendicant orders of St. Francis and St. Dominic. +They are tonsured; use strings of beads, like the rosary, with which +to count their prayers; have incense and candles in their worship; use +fasts, processions, litanies, and holy water. They have something akin +to the adoration of saints; repeat prayers in an unknown tongue; have +a chanted psalmody with a double choir; and suspend the censer from +five chains. In China, some Buddhists worship the image of a virgin, +called the Queen of Heaven, having an infant in her arms, and holding a +cross. In Thibet the Grand Lamas wear a mitre, dalmatica, and cope, and +pronounce a benediction on the laity by extending the right hand over +their heads. The Dalai-Lama resembles the Pope, and is regarded as the +head of the Church. The worship of relics is very ancient among the +Buddhists, and so are pilgrimages to sacred places. + +Besides these resemblances in outward ceremonies, more important ones +appear in the inner life and history of the two religions. Both belong +to those systems which derive their character from a human founder, and +not from a national tendency; to the class which contains the religions +of Moses, Zoroaster, Confucius, and Mohammed, and not to that in which +the Brahmanical, Egyptian, Scandinavian, Greek, and Roman religions +are found. Both Buddhism and Christianity are catholic, and not +ethnic; that is, not confined to a single race or nation, but by their +missionary spirit passing beyond these boundaries, and making converts +among many races. Christianity began among the Jews as a Semitic +religion, but, being rejected by the Jewish nation, established itself +among the Aryan races of Europe. In the same way Buddhism, beginning +among an Aryan people--the Hindoos--was expelled from Hindostan, and +established itself among the Mongol races of Eastern Asia. Besides its +resemblances to the Roman Catholic side of Christendom, Buddhism has +still closer analogies with the Protestant Church. Like Protestantism, +it is a reform, which rejects a hierarchal system and does away with +a priestly caste. Like Protestantism, it has emphasized the purely +humane side of life, and is a religion of humanity rather than of +piety. Both the Christian and Buddhist churches teach a divine +incarnation, and both worship a God-man. + +Are these remarkable analogies only casual resemblances, or are they +real affinities? By affinity we here mean genetic relationship. Are +Buddhism and Christianity related as mother and child, one being +derived from the other; or are they related by both being derived from +some common ancestor? Is either derived from the other, as Christianity +from Judaism, or Protestantism from the Papal Church? That there can +be no such affinity as this seems evident from history. History shows +no trace of the contact which would be required for such influence. +If Christianity had taken its customs from Buddhism, or Buddhism from +Christianity, there must have been ample historic evidence of the fact. +But, instead of this, history shows that each has grown up by its own +natural development, and has unfolded its qualities separately and +alone. The law of evolution also teaches that such great systems do not +come from imitation, but as growths from a primal germ. + +Nor does history give the least evidence of a common ancestry from +which both took their common traits. We know that Buddhism was derived +from Brahmanism, and that Christianity was derived from Judaism. Now, +Judaism and Brahmanism have few analogies; they could not, therefore, +have transmitted to their offspring what they did not themselves +possess. Brahmanism came from an Aryan stock, in Central Asia; Judaism +from a Semitic stem, thousands of miles to the west. If Buddhism and +Christianity came from a common source, that source must have antedated +both the Mosaic and Brahmanical systems. Even then it would be a case +of atavism in which the original type disappeared in the children, to +reappear in the later descendants. + +Are, then, these striking resemblances, and others which are still to +be mentioned, only accidental analogies? This does not necessarily +follow; for there is a third alternative. They may be what are +called in science homologies; that is, the same law working out +similar results under the same conditions, though under different +circumstances. The whale lives under different circumstances from other +mammalia; but being a mammal, he has a like osseous structure. What +seems to be a fin, being dissected, turns out to be an arm, with hand +and fingers. There are like homologies in history. Take the instance of +the English and French revolutions. In each case the legitimate king +was tried, condemned, and executed. A republic followed. The republic +gave way before a strong-handed usurper. Then the original race of +kings was restored; but, having learned nothing and forgotten nothing, +they were displaced a second time, and a constitutional monarch placed +on the throne, who, though not the legitimate king, still belonged +to the same race. Here the same laws of human nature have worked out +similar results; for no one would suggest that France had copied its +revolutions from England. And, in religion, human nature reproduces +similar customs and ceremonies under like conditions. When, for +instance, you have a mechanical system of prayer, in which the number +of prayers is of chief importance, there must be some way of counting +them, and so the rosary has been invented independently in different +religions. We have no room to point out how this law has worked in +other instances; but it is enough to refer to the principle. + +Besides these resemblances between Buddhism and Christianity, there are +also some equally remarkable differences, which should be noticed. + +The first of these is the striking fact that Buddhism has been unable +to recognize the existence of the Infinite Being. It has been called +atheism by the majority of the best authorities. Even Arthur Lillie, +who defends this system from the charge of agnosticism, says:[6] "An +agnostic school of Buddhism without doubt exists. It professes plain +atheism, and holds that every mortal, when he escapes from re-births, +and the causation of Karma by the awakenment of the Bodhi or gnosis, +will be annihilated. This Buddhism, by Eugene Burnouf, Saint-Hilaire, +Max Mueller, Csoma de Koeroes, and, I believe, almost every writer of +note, is pronounced the original Buddhism,--the Buddhism of the South." +Almost every writer of note, therefore, who has studied Buddhism in +the Pali, Singhalese, Chinese, and other languages, and has had direct +access to its original sources, has pronounced it a system of atheism. +But this opinion is opposed to the fact that Buddhists have everywhere +worshiped unseen and superhuman powers, erected magnificent temples, +maintained an elaborate ritual, and adored Buddha as the supreme ruler +of the worlds. How shall we explain this paradox? All depends on the +definition we give to the word "atheism." If a system is atheistic +which sees only the temporal, and not the eternal; which knows no +God as the author, creator, and ruler of Nature; which ascribes the +origin of the universe to natural causes, to which only the finite is +knowable, and the infinite unknowable--then Buddhism is atheism. But, +in that case, much of the polytheism of the world must be regarded as +atheism; for polytheism has largely worshiped finite gods. The whole +race of Olympian deities were finite beings. Above them ruled the +everlasting necessity of things. But who calls the Greek worshipers +atheists? The Buddha, to most Buddhists, is a finite being, one who has +passed through numerous births, has reached Nirvana, and will one day +be superseded by another Buddha. Yet, for the time, he is the Supreme +Being, Ruler of all the Worlds. He is the object of worship, and +really divine, if in a subordinate sense. + +I would not, therefore, call this religion atheism. No religion which +worships superhuman powers can justly be called atheistic on account of +its meagre metaphysics. How many Christians there are who do not fully +realize the infinite and eternal nature of the Deity! To many He is no +more than the Buddha is to his worshipers,--a supreme being, a mighty +ruler, governing all things by his will. How few see God everywhere +in nature, as Jesus saw Him, letting his sun shine on the evil and +good, and sending his rain on the just and unjust. How few see Him in +all of life, so that not a sparrow dies, or a single hair of the head +falls, without the Father. Most Christians recognize the Deity only as +occasionally interfering by special providences, particular judgments, +and the like. + +But in Christianity this ignorance of the eternal nature of God is the +exception, while in Buddhism it is the rule. In the reaction against +Brahmanism, the Brahmanic faith in the infinite was lost. In the +fully developed system of the ancient Hindoo religion the infinite +overpowered the finite, the temporal world was regarded as an illusion, +and only the eternal was real. The reaction from this extreme was so +complete as to carry the Buddhists to the exact opposite. If to the +Brahman all the finite visible world was only _maya_--illusion, to the +Buddhists all the infinite unseen world was unknowable, and practically +nothing. + +Perhaps the most original feature of Christianity is the fact +that it has combined in a living synthesis that which in other +systems was divided. Jesus regarded love to God and love to man as +identical,--positing a harmonious whole of time and eternity, piety +and humanity, faith and works,--and thus laid the foundation of a +larger system than either Brahmanism or Buddhism. He did not invent +piety, nor discover humanity. Long before he came the Brahmanic +literature had sounded the deepest depths of spiritual life, and the +Buddhist missionaries had preached universal benevolence to mankind. +But the angelic hymn which foretold the new religion as bringing at +once "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will to +men" indicated the essence of the faith which was at the same time a +heavenly love and an earthly blessing. This difference of result in the +two systems came probably from the different methods of their authors. +With Jesus life was the source of knowledge; the life was the light of +men. With the Buddha, reflection, meditation, thought was the source +of knowledge. In this, however, he included intuition no less than +reflection. Sakya-muni understood perfectly that a mere intellectual +judgment possessed little motive power; therefore he was not satisfied +till he had obtained an intuitive perception of truth. That alone gave +at once rest and power. But as the pure intellect, even in its highest +act, is unable to grasp the infinite, the Buddha was an agnostic on +this side of his creed by the very success of his method. Who, by +searching, can find out God? The infinite can only be known by the +process of living experience. This was the method of Jesus, and has +been that of his religion. For what is faith but that receptive state +of mind which waits on the Lord to receive the illumination which it +cannot create by its own processes? However this may be, it is probable +that the fatal defect in Buddhism which has neutralized its generous +philanthropy and its noble humanities has been the absence of the +inspiration which comes from the belief in an eternal world. Man is +too great to be satisfied with time alone, or eternity alone; he needs +to live from and for both. Hence, Buddhism is an arrested religion, +while Christianity is progressive. Christianity has shown the capacity +of outgrowing its own defects and correcting its own mistakes. For +example, it has largely outgrown its habit of persecuting infidels and +heretics. No one is now put to death for heresy. It has also passed out +of the stage in which religion is considered to consist in leaving the +world and entering a monastery. The anchorites of the early centuries +are no longer to be found in Christendom. Even in Catholic countries +the purpose of monastic life is no longer to save the soul by ascetic +tortures, but to attain some practical end. The Protestant Reformation, +which broke the yoke of priestly power and set free the mind of +Europe, was a movement originating in Christianity itself, like other +developments of a similar kind. No such signs of progress exist in +the system of Buddhism. It has lost the missionary ardor of its early +years; it has ceased from creating a vast literature such as grew up in +its younger days; it no longer produces any wonders of architecture. +It even lags behind the active life of the countries where it has its +greatest power. + +It is a curious analogy between the two systems that, while neither +the Christ nor the Buddha practiced or taught asceticism, their +followers soon made the essence of religion to consist in some form +of monastic life. Both Jesus and Sakya-muni went about doing good. +Both sent their followers into the world to preach a gospel. Jesus, +after thirty years of a retired life, came among men "eating and +drinking," and associating with "publicans and sinners." Sakya-muni, +after spending some years as an anchorite, deliberately renounced that +mode of religion as unsatisfactory, and associated with all men, as +Jesus afterward did. Within a few centuries after their death, their +followers relapsed into ascetic and monastic practices; but with this +difference, that while in Christendom there has always been both a +regular and a secular clergy, in the Buddhist countries the whole +priesthood live in monasteries. They have no parish priests, unless +as an exception. While in Christian countries the clergy has become +more and more a practical body, in sympathy with the common life, in +Buddhist lands they live apart and exercise little influence on the +civil condition of the people. + +Nor must we pass by the important fact that the word Christendom +is synonymous with a progressive civilization, while Buddhism is +everywhere connected with one which is arrested and stationary. The +boundaries of the Christian religion are exactly coextensive with +the advance of science, art, literature; and with the continued +accumulation of knowledge, power, wealth, and the comforts of human +life. According to Kuenen,[7] one of the most recent students of these +questions, this difference is due to the principle of hope which exists +in Christianity, but is absent in Buddhism. The one has always believed +in a kingdom of God here and a blessed immortality hereafter. Buddhism +has not this hope; and this, says Kuenen, "is a blank which nothing can +fill." So large a thinker as Albert Reville has expressed his belief +that even the intolerance of Christianity indicated a passionate love +of truth which has created modern science. He says that "if Europe had +not passed through those ages of intolerance, it is doubtful whether +the science of our day would ever have arrived."[8] It is only within +the boundaries of nations professing the Christian faith that we must +go to-day to learn the latest discoveries in science, the best works +of art, the most flourishing literature. Only within the same circle +of Christian states is there a government by law, and not by will. +Only within these boundaries have the rights of the individual been +secured, while the power of the state has been increased. Government +by law, joined with personal freedom, is only to be found where the +faith exists which teaches that God not only supports the universal +order of natural things, but is also the friend of the individual soul; +and in just that circle of states in which the doctrine is taught that +there is no individual soul for God to love and no Divine presence in +the order of nature, human life has subsided into apathy, progress has +ceased, and it has been found impossible to construct national unity. +Saint-Hilaire affirms[9] that "in politics and legislation the dogma +of Buddhism has remained inferior even to that of Brahmanism," and +"has been able to do nothing to constitute states or to govern them by +equitable rules." These Buddhist nations are really six: Siam, Burma, +Nepaul, Thibet, Tartary, and Ceylon. The activity and social progress +in China and Japan are no exceptions to this rule; for in neither +country has Buddhism any appreciable influence on the character of the +people. + +To those who deny that the theology of a people influences its +character, it may be instructive to see how exactly the good and evil +influences of Buddhism correspond to the positive and negative traits +of its doctrine. Its merits, says Saint-Hilaire, are its practical +character, its abnegation of vulgar gratifications, its benevolence, +mildness, sentiment of human equality, austerity of manners, dislike of +falsehood, and respect for the family. Its defects are want of social +power, egotistical aims, ignorance of the ideal good, of the sense of +human right and human freedom, skepticism, incurable despair, contempt +of life. All its human qualities correspond to its doctrinal teaching +from the beginning. It has always taught benevolence, patience, +self-denial, charity, and toleration. Its defects arise inevitably +from its negative aim,--to get rid of sorrow and evil by sinking into +apathy, instead of seeking for the triumph of good and the coming of a +reign of God here on the earth. + +As regards the Buddha himself, modern students differ widely. Some, of +course, deny his very existence, and reduce him to a solar myth. M. +Emile Senart, as quoted by Oldenberg,[10] following the Lalita Vistara +as his authority, makes of him a solar hero, born of the morning cloud, +contending by the power of light with the demons of darkness, rising in +triumph to the zenith of heavenly glory, then passing into the night of +Nirvana and disappearing from the scene. + +The difficulty about this solar myth theory is that it proves too +much; it is too powerful a solvent; it would dissolve all history. How +easy it would be, in a few centuries, to turn General Washington and +the American Revolution into a solar myth! Great Britain, a region of +clouds and rain, represents the Kingdom of Darkness; America, with more +sunshine, is the Day. Great Britain, as Darkness, wishes to devour the +Young Day, or dawn of light, which America is about to diffuse over the +earth. But Washington, the solar hero, arrives. He is from Virginia, +that is, born of a virgin. He was born in February, in the sign of +Aquarius and the Fishes,--plainly referring to the birth of the sun +from the ocean. As the sun surveys the earth, so Washington was said to +be a surveyor of many regions. The story of the fruitless attempts of +the Indians to shoot him at Braddock's defeat is evidently legendary; +and, in fact, this battle itself must be a myth, for how can we suppose +two English and French armies to have crossed the Atlantic, and then +gone into a wilderness west of the mountains, to fight a battle? So +easy is it to turn history into a solar myth. + +The character of Sakya-muni must be learned from his religion and from +authentic tradition. In many respects his character and influence +resembled that of Jesus. He opposed priestly assumptions, taught the +equality and brotherhood of man, sent out disciples to teach his +doctrine, was a reformer who relied on the power of truth and love. +Many of his reported sayings resemble those of Jesus. He was opposed +by the Brahmans as Jesus by the Pharisees. He compared the Brahmans +who followed their traditions to a chain of blind men, who move on, +not seeing where they go.[11] Like Jesus, he taught that mercy was +better than sacrifices. Like Jesus, he taught orally, and left no +writing. Jesus did not teach in Hebrew, but in the Aramaic, which was +the popular dialect, and so the Buddha did not speak to the people in +Sanskrit, but in their own tongue, which was Pali. Like Jesus, he seems +to have instructed his hearers by parables or stories. He was one of +the greatest reformers the world has ever seen; and his influence, +after that of the Christ, has probably exceeded that of any one who +ever lived. + +But, beside such real resemblances between these two masters, we are +told of others still more striking, which would certainly be hard to +explain unless one of the systems had borrowed from the other. These +are said to be the preexistence of Buddha in heaven; his birth of a +virgin; salutation by angels; presentation in the temple; baptism by +fire and water; dispute with the doctors; temptation in the wilderness; +transfiguration; descent into hell; ascension into heaven.[12] If +these legends could be traced back to the time before Christ, then it +might be argued that the Gospels have borrowed from Buddhism. Such, +however, is not the fact. These stories are taken from the Lalita +Vistara, which, according to Rhys Davids,[13] was probably composed +between six hundred and a thousand years after the time of Buddha, by +some Buddhist poet in Nepaul. Rhys Davids, one of our best authorities, +says of this poem: "As evidence of what early Buddhism actually was, +it is of about the same value as some mediaeval poem would be of the +real facts of the gospel history."[13] M. Ernest de Bunsen, in his work +on the "Angel Messiah," has given a very exhaustive statement, says +Mr. Davids, of all the possible channels through which Christians can +be supposed to have borrowed from the Buddhists. But Mr. Davids's +conclusion is that he finds no evidence of any such communications of +ideas from the East to the West.[14] The difference between the wild +stories of the Lalita Vistara and the sober narratives of the Gospels +is quite apparent. Another writer, Professor Seydel,[15] thinks, after +a full and careful examination, that only five facts in the Gospels +may have been borrowed from Buddhism. These are: (1) The fast of Jesus +before his work; (2) The question in regard to the blind man--"Who did +sin, this man, or his parents"? (3) The preexistence of Christ; (4) The +presentation in the Temple; (5) Nathanael sitting under a fig-tree, +compared with Buddha under a Bo-tree. But Kuenen has examined these +parallels, and considers them merely accidental coincidences. And, in +truth, it is very hard to conceive of one religion borrowing its facts +or legends from another, if that other stands in no historic relation +to it. That Buddhism should have taken much from Brahmanism is natural; +for Brahmanism was its mother. That Christianity should have borrowed +many of its methods from Judaism is equally natural; for Judaism was +its cradle. Modern travelers in Burma and Tartary have found that the +Buddhists hold a kind of camp-meeting in the open air, where they pray +and sing. Suppose that some critic, noticing this, should assert that, +when Wesley and his followers established similar customs, they must +have borrowed them from the Buddhists. The absurdity would be evident. +New religions grow, they are not imitations. + +It has been thought, however, that Christianity was derived from the +Essenes, because of certain resemblances, and it is argued that the +Essenes must have obtained their monastic habits from the Therapeutae +in Egypt, and that the Therapeutae received them from the Buddhists, +because they could not have found them elsewhere. This theory, however, +has been dismissed from the scene by the young German scholar,[16] +who has proved that the essay on the Therapeutae ascribed to Philo was +really written by a Christian anchorite in the third or fourth century. + +The result, then, of our investigation, is this: There is no +probability that the analogies between Christianity and Buddhism have +been derived the one from the other. They have come from the common and +universal needs and nature of man, which repeat themselves again and +again in like positions and like circumstances. That Jesus and Buddha +should both have retired into the wilderness before undertaking their +great work is probable, for it has been the habit of other reformers +to let a period of meditation precede their coming before the world. +That both should have been tempted to renounce their enterprise is +also in accordance with human nature. That, in after times, the simple +narratives should be overlaid with additions, and a whole mass of +supernatural wonders added,--as we find in the Apocryphal Gospels and +the Lalita Vistara,--is also in accordance with the working of the +human mind. + +Laying aside all such unsatisfactory resemblances, we must regard the +Buddha as having been one of the noblest of men, and one whom Jesus +would have readily welcomed as a fellow worker and a friend. He opposed +a dominant priesthood, maintained the equal religious rights of all +mankind, overthrew caste, encouraged woman to take her place as man's +equal, forbade all bloody sacrifices, and preached a religion of peace +and good will, seeking to triumph only in the fair conflict of reason +with reason. If he was defective in the loftiest instincts of the soul; +if he knew nothing of the infinite and eternal; if he saw nothing +permanent in the soul of man; if his highest purpose was negative,--to +escape from pain, sorrow, anxiety, toil,--let us still be grateful for +the influence which has done so much to tame the savage Mongols, and to +introduce hospitality and humanity into the homes of Lassa and Siam. If +Edwin Arnold, a poet, idealizes him too highly, it is the better fault, +and should be easily forgiven. Hero-worshipers are becoming scarce in +our time; let us make the most of those we have. + + + + +WHY I AM NOT A FREE-RELIGIONIST[17] + + +What is meant by "Free Religion"? I understand by it, individualism in +religion. It is the religious belief which has made itself independent +of historic and traditional influences, so far as it is in the power +of any one to attain such independence. In Christian lands it means a +religion which has cut loose from the Bible and the Christian Church, +and which is as ready to question the teaching of Jesus as that of +Socrates or Buddha. It is, what Emerson called himself, an endless +seeker, with no past behind it. It is entire trust in the private +reason as the sole authority in matters of religion. + +Free Religion may be regarded as Protestantism carried to its ultimate +results. A Protestant _Christian_ accepts the leadership of Jesus, and +keeps himself in the Christian communion; but he uses his own private +judgment to discover what Jesus taught, and what Christianity really +is. The Free Religionist goes a step farther, and decides by his own +private judgment what is true and what false, no matter whether taught +by Jesus or not. + +Free Religion, as thus understood, seems to me opposed to the law of +evolution, and incompatible with it. Evolution educes the present from +the past by a continuous process. Free Religion cuts itself loose +from the past, and makes every man the founder of his own religion. +According to the law of evolution, confirmed by history, every advance +in religion is the development from something going before. Jewish +monotheism grew out of polytheism; Christianity and Mohammedanism out +of Judaism; Buddhism out of Brahmanism; Protestant Christianity out of +the Roman Catholic Church. Jesus himself said, "Think not that I am +come to destroy the Law or the Prophets: I am not come to destroy, but +to fulfil." The higher religions are not made; they grow. Of each it +may be said, as of the poet: "Nascitur, non fit." Therefore, if there +is to arrive something higher than our existing Christianity, it must +not be a system which forsakes the Christian belief, but something +developed from it. + +According to the principle of evolution, every growing and productive +religion obeys the laws of heredity and of variation. It has an +inherited common life, and a tendency to modification by individual +activity. Omit or depress either factor, and the religion loses its +power of growth. Without a common life, the principle of development +is arrested. He who leaves the great current which comes from the +past loses headway. This current, in the Christian communion, is the +inherited spirit of Jesus. It is his life, continued in his Church; +his central convictions of love to God and to man; of fatherhood +and brotherhood; of the power of truth to conquer error, of good to +overcome evil; of a Kingdom of Heaven to come to us here. It is the +faith of Jesus in things unseen; his hope of the triumph of right +over wrong; his love going down to the lowliest child of God. These +vital convictions in the soul of Jesus are communicated by contact +from generation to generation. They are propagated, as he suggested, +like leaven hidden in the dough. By a different figure, Plato, in +his dialogue of Ion, shows that inspiration is transmitted like the +magnetic influence, which causes iron rings to adhere and hang together +in a chain. Thoughts and opinions are communicated by argument, +reasoning, speech, and writing; but faith and inspiration by the +influence of life on life. The life of Jesus is thus continued in his +Church, and those who stand outside of it lose much of this transmitted +and sympathetic influence. Common life in a religious body furnishes +the motive force which carries it forward, while individual freedom +gives the power of improvement. The two principles of heredity and +variation must be united in order to combine union and freedom, and +to secure progress. Where freedom of thought ceases, religion becomes +rigid. It is incapable of development. Such, for instance, is the +condition of Buddhism, which, at first full of intellectual activity, +has now hardened into a monkish ritual. + +Free Religion sacrifices the motive power derived from association +and religious sympathy for the sake of a larger intellectual freedom. +The result is individualism. It founds no churches, but spends much +force in criticising the Christian community, its belief, and its +methods. These are, no doubt, open to criticism, which would do good +if administered sympathetically and from within, but produce little +result when delivered in the spirit of antagonism. Imperfect as the +Christian Church is, it ought to be remembered that in it are to be +found the chief strength and help of the charities, philanthropies, and +moral reforms of our time. Every one who has at heart a movement for +the benefit of humanity appeals instinctively for aid to the Christian +churches. It is in these that such movements usually originate, and are +carried on. Even when, as in the antislavery movement, a part of the +churches refuse to sympathize with a new moral or social movement, the +reproaches made against them show that in the mind of the community +an interest in all humane endeavor is considered to be a part of +their work. The common life and convictions of these bodies enable +them to accomplish what individualism does not venture to undertake. +Individualism is incapable of organized and sustained work of this +sort, though it can, and often does, cooperate earnestly with it. + +The teaching of Jesus is founded on the synthesis of Truth and Love. +Jesus declares himself to have been born "to bear witness to the +truth," and he also makes love, divine and human, the substance of his +gospel. The love element produces union, the truth element, freedom. +Union without freedom stiffens into a rigid conservatism. Freedom +without union breaks up into an intellectual atomism. The Christian +churches have gone into both extremes, but never permanently; for +Christianity, as long as it adheres to its founder and his ideas, has +the power of self-recovery. Its diseases are self-limited. + +It has had many such periods, but has recovered from them. It passed +through an age in which it ran to ascetic self-denial, and made saints +of self-torturing anchorites. It afterward became a speculative system, +and tended to metaphysical creeds and doctrinal distinctions. It became +a persecuting church, burning heretics and Jews, and torturing infidels +as an act of faith. It was tormented by dark superstitions, believing +in witchcraft and magic. But it has left all these evils behind. No +one is now put to death for heresy or witchcraft. The monastic orders +in the Church are preachers and teachers, or given to charity. No +one could be burned to-day as a heretic. No one to-day believes in +witchcraft. The old creeds which once held the Church in irons are +now slowly disintegrating. But reform, as I have said, must come from +within, by the gradual elimination of those inherited beliefs which +interfere with the unity of the Church and the leadership of Christ +himself. The Platonic and Egyptian Trinity remaining as dogma, repeated +but not understood,--the Manichaean division of the human race into +children of God and children of the Devil,--the scholastic doctrine of +the Atonement, by which the blood of Jesus expiates human guilt,--are +being gradually explained in accordance with reason and the teaching of +Jesus. + +Some beliefs, once thought to be of vital importance, are now seen by +many to be unessential, or are looked at in a different light. Instead +of making Jesus an exceptional person, we are coming to regard him as +a representative man, the realized ideal of what man was meant to be, +and will one day become. Instead of considering his sinlessness as +setting him apart from his race, we look on it as showing that sin is +not the natural, but unnatural, condition of mankind. His miracles are +regarded not as violations of the laws of nature, but anticipations of +laws which one day will be universally known, and which are boundless +as the universe. Nor will they in future be regarded as evidence of +the mission of Jesus, since he himself was grieved when they were +so looked upon, and he made his truth and his character the true +evidence that he came from God. The old distinction between "natural" +and "supernatural" will disappear when it is seen that Jesus had a +supernatural work and character, the same in kind as ours, though +higher in degree. The supreme gifts which make him the providential +leader of the race do not set him apart from his brethren if we see +that it is a law of humanity that gifts differ, and that men endowed +with superior powers become leaders in science, art, literature, +politics; as Jesus has become the chief great spiritual leader of +mankind. + +Men are now searching the Scriptures, not under the bondage of an +infallible letter, but seeking for the central ideas of Jesus and +the spirit of his gospel. They begin to accept the maxim of Goethe: +"No matter how much the gospels contradict each other, provided the +Gospel does not contradict itself." The profound convictions of +Christ, which pervade all his teaching, give the clue by which to +explain the divergences in the narrative. We interpret the letter by +the light of the spirit. We see how Jesus emphasized the law of human +happiness,--that it comes from within, not from without; that the pure +in heart see God, and that it is more blessed to give than to receive. +We comprehend the stress he lays on the laws of progress,--that he who +humbleth himself shall be exalted. We recognize his profound conviction +that all God's children are dear to him, that his sun shines on the +evil and the good, and that he will seek the one lost sheep till he +find it. We see his trust in the coming of the Kingdom of God in this +world, the triumph of good over evil, and the approaching time when the +knowledge of God shall fill the earth as the waters cover the sea. And +we find his profound faith in the immortal life which abides in us, so +that whoever shares that faith with him can never die. + +The more firmly these central ideas of Jesus are understood and held, +the less importance belongs to any criticism of the letter. This or +that saying, attributed to Jesus in the record, maybe subjected to +attack; but it is the main current of his teaching which has made him +the leader of civilized man for eighteen centuries. That majestic +stream will sweep on undisturbed, though there may be eddies here or +stagnant pools there, which induce hasty observers to suppose that it +has ceased to flow. + + "Rusticus expectat dum defluit amnis, at ille + Volvitur et volvetur, in omne volubilis aevium." + +I sometimes read attacks on special sayings of the record, which +argue, to the critic's mind, that Jesus was in error here, or mistaken +there. But I would recommend to such writers to ponder the suggestive +rule of Coleridge: "Until I can understand the ignorance of Plato, I +shall consider myself ignorant of his understanding;" or the remark of +Emerson to the youth who brought him a paper in which he thought he +had refuted Plato: "If you attack the king, be sure that you kill him." + +When the Christian world really takes Jesus _himself_ as its leader, +instead of building its faith on opinions _about_ him, we may +anticipate the arrival of that union which he foresaw and foretold--"As +thou, father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one +in us, that the world may believe that thou hast sent me." Then +Christians, ceasing from party strife and sectarian dissension, +will unite in one mighty effort to cure the evils of humanity and +redress its wrongs. Before a united Christendom, what miseries could +remain unrelieved? War, that criminal absurdity, that monstrous +anachronism, must at last be abolished. Pauperism, vice, and crime, +though continuing in sporadic forms, would cease to exist as a part of +the permanent institutions of civilization. A truly Catholic Church, +united under the Master, would lead all humanity up to a higher plane. +The immense forces developed by modern science, and the magnificent +discoveries in the realm of nature, helpless now to cure the wrongs +of suffering man, would become instruments of potent use under the +guidance of moral forces. + +According to the law of evolution, this is what we have a right to +expect. If we follow the lines of historic development, not being led +into extreme individualism; if we maintain the continuity of human +progress, this vast result must finally arrive. For such reasons I +prefer to remain in the communion of the Christian body, doing what I +may to assist its upward movement. For such reasons I am not a Free +Religionist. + + + + +HAVE ANIMALS SOULS[18] + + +To answer this question, we must first inquire what we mean by a soul. +If we mean a human soul, it is certain that animals do not possess +it,--at least not in a fully developed condition. If we mean, "Do they +possess an immortal soul?" that is, perhaps, a question difficult to +answer either in the affirmative or the negative. But if we mean by +the soul an immaterial principle of life, which coordinates the bodily +organization to a unity; which is the ground of growth, activity, +perception, volition; which is intelligent, affectionate, and to a +certain extent free; then we must admit that animals have souls. + +The same arguments which induce us to believe that there is a soul in +man apply to animals. The world has generally believed that in man, +beside the body, there is also soul. Why have people believed it? The +reason probably is, that, beside all that can be accounted for as the +result of the juxtaposition of material particles, there remains a very +important element unaccounted for. Mechanical and physical agency may +explain much, but the most essential characteristic of vital phenomena +they do not explain. They do not account for the unity in variety, +permanence in change, growth from within by continuous processes, +coming from the vital functions in an organized body. Every such +body has a unity peculiar to itself, which cannot be considered the +result of the collocation of material molecules. It is a unity which +controls these molecules, arranges and rearranges them, maintains a +steady activity, carries the body through the phenomena of growth, and +causes the various organs to cooperate for the purposes of the whole. +The vital power is not merely the result of material phenomena, but +it reacts on these as a cause. Add to this that strange phenomenon of +human consciousness, the sense of personality,--which is the clear +perception of selfhood as a distinct unchanging unit, residing in +a body all of whose parts are in perpetual flux,--and we see why +the opinion of a soul has arisen. It has been assumed by the common +sense of mankind that in every living body the cause of the mode of +existence of each part is contained in the whole. As soon as death +intervenes each part is left free to pass through changes peculiar +to itself alone. Life is a power which acts from the whole upon the +parts, causing them to resist chemical laws, which begin to act as soon +as life departs. The unity of a living body does not result from an +ingenious juxtaposition of parts, like that of a watch, for example. +For the unity of a living body implies that which is called "the vital +vortex," or perpetual exchange of particles. + +A watch or clock is the nearest approach which has been made by man +to the creation of a living being. A watch, for instance, contains +the principle of its action in itself, and is not moved from without; +in that it resembles a living creature. We can easily conceive of a +watch which might be made to go seventy years, without being wound +up. It might need to be oiled occasionally, but not as often as an +animal needs to be fed. A watch is also like a living creature in +having a unity as a whole not belonging to the separate parts, and to +which all parts conspire,--namely, that of marking the progress of +time. Why, then, say that a man has a soul, and that a watch has not? +The difference is this. The higher principle of unity in the watch, +that is, its power of marking time, is wholly an effect, and never a +cause. It is purely and only the result of the arrangement of wheels +and springs; in other words, of material conditions. But in man, the +principle of unity is also a cause. Life reacts upon body. The laws of +matter are modified by the power of life, chemical action is suspended, +living muscles are able to endure without laceration the application of +forces which would destroy the dead fibre. So the thought, the love, +the will of a living creature react on the physical frame. A sight, a +sound, a few spoken words, a message seen in a letter, cause an immense +revulsion in the physical condition. Something is suddenly told us, +and we faint away, or even die, from the effect of the message. Here +mind acts upon matter, showing that in man mind is not merely a result, +but also a cause. Hence men have generally believed in the existence +of a soul in man. They have not been taught it by metaphysicians, it +is one of the spontaneous inductions of common sense from universal +experience. + +But this argument applies equally to prove a soul in animals. The same +reaction of soul on body is constantly apparent. Every time that you +whistle to your dog, and he comes bounding toward you, his mind has +acted on his body. His will has obeyed his thought, his muscles have +obeyed his will. The cause of his motion was mental, not physical. +This is too evident to require any further illustration. Therefore, +regarding the soul as a principle of life, connected with the body +but not its result, or, in other words, as an immaterial principle of +activity, there is the same reason for believing in the soul of animals +that there is for believing in the soul of man. + +But when we ask as to the nature of the animal soul, and how far it is +analogous to that of man, we meet with certain difficulties. Let us +see then how many of the human qualities of the soul are to be found +in animals, and so discover if there is any remainder not possessed by +them, peculiar to ourselves. + +That the vital soul, or principle of life, belongs equally to plants, +animals, and men, is evident. This is so apparent as to be granted +even by Descartes, who regards animals as mere machines, or automata, +destitute of a thinking soul, but not of life or feeling. They are +automata, but living and feeling automata. Descartes denies them a +soul, because he defines the soul as the thinking and knowing power. +But Locke (with whom Leibnitz fully agreed on this point) ascribes to +animals thought as well as feeling, and makes their difference from man +to consist in their not possessing abstract ideas. We shall presently +see the truth of this most sagacious remark. + +Plants, animals, and men are alike in possessing the vital principle, +which produces growth, which causes them to pass through regular +phases of development, which enables them to digest and assimilate +food taken from without, and which carries on a steady circulation +within. To this are added, in the animal, the function of voluntary +locomotion, perception through the senses of an outward world, the +power of feeling pleasure and pain, some wonderful instincts, and some +degree of reflective thought. Animals also possess memory, imagination, +playfulness, industry, the sense of shame, and many other very human +qualities. + +Take, for example, Buffon's fine description of the dog ("Histoire du +Chien"):-- + +"By nature fiery, irritable, ferocious, and sanguinary, the dog in +his savage state is a terror to other animals. But domesticated he +becomes gentle, attached, and desirous to please. He hastens to lay +at the feet of his master his courage, his strength, and all his +abilities. He listens for his master's orders, inquires his will, +consults his opinion, begs his permission, understands the indications +of his wishes. Without possessing the power of human thought, he has +all the warmth of human sentiment. He has more than human fidelity, +he is constant in his attachments. He is made up of zeal, ardor, and +obedience. He remembers kindness longer than wrong. He endures bad +treatment and forgets it--disarming it by patience and submission." + +No one who has ever had a dog for a friend will think this description +exaggerated. If any should so consider it, we will cite for their +benefit what Mr. Jesse, one of the latest students of the canine +race, asserts concerning it, in his "Researches into the History of +the British Dog" (London, 1866). He says that remarkable instances +of the following virtues, feelings, and powers of mind are well +authenticated:-- + +"The dog risks his life to give help; goes for assistance; saves +life from drowning, fire, other animals, and men; assists distress; +guards property; knows boundaries; resents injuries; repays benefits; +communicates ideas; combines with other dogs for several purposes; +understands language; knows when he is about to die; knows death in +a human being; devotes his whole life to the object of his love; dies +of grief and of joy; dies in his master's defense; commits suicide; +remains by the dead; solicits, and gives alarm; knows the characters +of men; recognizes a portrait, and men after long absence; is fond of +praise and sensible to ridicule; feels shame, and is sensible of a +fault; is playful; is incorruptible; finds his way back from distant +countries; is magnanimous to smaller animals; is jealous; has dreams; +and takes a last farewell when dying." + +Much of this, it may be said, is instinctive. We must therefore +distinguish between Instinct and Intelligence; or, rather, between +instinctive intelligence and reflective intelligence. Many writers on +the subject of animals have not carefully distinguished these very +different activities of the soul. Even M. Leroy, one of the first in +modern times who brought careful observation to the study of the nature +of animals, has not always kept in view this distinction---as has been +noticed by a subsequent French writer of very considerable ability, +M. Flourens.[19] The following marks, according to M. Flourens, +distinguish instinct from intelligence:-- + + INSTINCT INTELLIGENCE + + Is spontaneous, Is deliberate, + " necessary, " conditional, + " invariable, " modifiable, + " innate, comes from observation and experience, + " fatal, is free, + " particular. " general. + +Thus the building faculty of the beaver is an instinct, for it acts +spontaneously, and always in the same way. It is not a general faculty +of building in all places and ways, but a special power of building +houses of sticks, mud, and other materials, with the entrance under +water and a dry place within. When beavers build on a running stream, +they begin by making a dam across it, which preserves them from losing +the water in a drought; but this also is a spontaneous and invariable +act. The old stories of their driving piles, using their tails for +trowels, and having well-planned houses with many chambers, have been +found to be fictitious. That the beaver builds by instinct, though +intelligence comes in to modify the instinct, appears from his wishing +to build his house or his dam when it is not needed. Mr. Broderip, +the English naturalist, had a pet beaver that manifested his building +instinct by dragging together warming-pans, sweeping-brushes, boots, +and sticks, which he would lay crosswise. He then would fill in his +wall with clothes, bits of coal, turf, laying it very even. Finally, +he made a nest for himself behind his wall with clothes, hay, and +cotton. As this creature had been brought from America very young, all +this procedure must have been instinctive. But his intelligence showed +itself in his adapting his mode of building to his new circumstances. +His instinct led him to build his wall, and to lay his sticks +crosswise, and to fill in with what he could find, according to the +universal and spontaneous procedure of all beavers. But his making use +of a chest of drawers for one side of his wall, and taking brushes and +boots instead of cutting down trees, were no doubt acts of intelligence. + +A large part of the wonderful procedure of bees is purely instinctive. +Bees, from the beginning of the world, and in all countries of the +earth, have lived in similar communities; have had their queen, to +lay eggs for them: if their queen is lost, have developed a new one +in the same way, by altering the conditions of existence in one of +their larvae; have constructed their hexagonal cells by the same +mathematical law, so as to secure the most strength with the least +outlay of material. All this is instinct--for it is spontaneous and not +deliberate; it is universal and constant. But when the bee deflects his +comb in order to avoid a stick thrust across the inside of the hive, +and begins the variation before he reaches the stick, this can only be +regarded as an act of intelligence. + +Animals, then, have both instincts and intelligence; and so has man. A +large part of human life proceeds from tendencies as purely, if not as +vigorously, instinctive as those of animals. Man has social instincts, +which create human society. Children play from an instinct. The +maternal instinct in a human mother is, till modified by reflection, as +spontaneous, universal, and necessary as the same instinct in animals. +But in man the instincts are reduced to a minimum, and are soon +modified by observation, experience, and reflection. In animals they +are at their maximum, and are modified in a much less degree. + +It is sometimes said that animals do not reason, but man does. But +animals are quite capable of at least two modes of reasoning, that of +comparison and that of inference. They compare two modes of action, or +two substances, and judge the one to be preferable to the other, and +accordingly select it. Sir Emerson Tennent tells us that elephants, +employed to build stone walls in Ceylon, will lay each stone in its +place, then stand off and look to see if it is plumb, and, if not, will +move it with their trunk, till it lies perfectly straight. This is a +pure act of reflective judgment. He narrates an adventure which befell +himself in Ceylon while riding on a narrow road through the forest. He +heard a rumbling sound approaching, and directly there came to meet him +an elephant, bearing on his tusks a large log of wood, which he had +been directed to carry to the place where it was needed. Sir Emerson +Tennent's horse, unused to these monsters, was alarmed, and refused to +go forward. The sagacious elephant, perceiving this, evidently decided +that he must himself go out of the way. But to do this, he was obliged +first to take the log from his tusks with his trunk, and lay it on the +ground, which he did, and then backed out of the road between the trees +till only his head was visible. But the horse was still too timid to go +by, whereupon the judicious pachyderm pushed himself farther back, till +all of his body, except the end of his trunk, had disappeared. Then Sir +Emerson succeeded in getting his horse by, but stopped to witness the +result. The elephant came out, took the log up again, laid it across +his tusks, and went on his way. This story, told by an unimpeachable +witness, shows several successive acts of reasoning. The log-bearer +inferred from the horse's terror that it would not pass; he again +inferred that in that case he must himself get out of the way; that, to +do this, he must lay down his log; that he must go farther back; and +accompanying this was his sense of duty, making him faithful to his +task; and, most of all, his consideration of what was due to this human +traveler, which kept him from driving the horse and man before him as +he went on. + +There is another well-authenticated anecdote of an elephant; he was +following an ammunition wagon, and saw the man who was seated on it +fall off just before the wheel. The man would have been crushed had +not the animal instantly run forward, and, without an order, lifted +the wheel with his trunk, and held it suspended in the air, till the +wagon had passed over the man without hurting him. Here were combined +presence of mind, good will, knowledge of the danger to the man, and a +rapid calculation of how he could be saved. + +Perhaps I may properly introduce here an account of the manifestations +of mind in the animals I have had the most opportunity of observing. +I have a horse, who was named Rubezahl, after the mountain spirit of +the Harz made famous in the stories of Musaeus. We have contracted his +name to Ruby for convenience. Now I have reason to believe that Ruby +can distinguish Sunday from other days. On Sunday I have been in the +habit of driving to Boston to church; but on other days, I drive to the +neighboring village, where are the post-office, shops of mechanics, and +other stores. To go to Boston, I usually turn to the right when I leave +my driveway; to go to the village, I turn to the left. Now, on Sunday, +if I leave the reins loose, so that the horse may do as he pleases, he +invariably turns to the right, and goes to Boston. On other days, he +as invariably turns to the left, and goes to the village. He does this +so constantly and regularly, that none of the family have any doubt +of the fact that he knows that it is Sunday; _how_ he knows it we are +unable to discover. I have left my house at the same hour on Sunday +and on Monday, in the same carriage, with the same number of persons +in it; and yet on Sunday he always turns to the right, and on Monday +to the left. He is fed at the same time on Sunday as on other days, +but the man comes back to harness him a little later on Sunday than at +other times, and that is possibly his method of knowing that it is the +day for going to Boston. But see how much of observation, memory, and +thought is implied in all this. + +Again, Ruby has shown a very distinct feeling of the supernatural. +Driving one day up a hill near my house, we met a horse-car coming down +toward us, running without horses, simply by the force of gravity. My +horse became so frightened that he ran into the gutter, and nearly +overturned me; and I got him past with the greatest difficulty. Now +he had met the cars coming down that hill, drawn by horses, a hundred +times, and had never been alarmed. Moreover, only a day or two after, +in going up the same hill, we saw a car moving uphill, before us, where +the horses were entirely invisible, being concealed by the car itself, +which was between us and the horses. But this did not frighten Ruby +at all. He evidently said to himself, "The horses are there, though I +do not see them." But in the other case it seemed to him an effect +without a cause--something plainly supernatural. There was nothing +in the aspect of the car itself to alarm him; he had seen that often +enough. He was simply terrified by seeing it move without any adequate +cause--just as we should be, if we saw our chairs begin to walk about +the room. + +Our Newfoundland dog's name is Donatello; which, again, is shortened +to Don in common parlance. He has all the affectionate and excellent +qualities of his race. He is the most good-natured creature I ever saw. +Nothing provokes him. Little dogs may yelp at him, the cat or kittens +may snarl and spit at him: he pays no attention to them. A little +dog climbs on his back, and lies down there; one of the cats will +lie between his legs. But at night, when he is on guard, no one can +approach the house unchallenged. + +But his affection for the family is very great. To be allowed to come +into the house and lie down near us is his chief happiness. He was very +fond of my son E----, who played with him a good deal, and when the +young man went away, during the war, with a three months' regiment, +Don was much depressed by his absence. He walked down regularly to the +station, and stood there till a train of cars came in; and when his +friend did not arrive in it, he went back, with a melancholy air, to +the house. But at last the young man returned. It was in the evening, +and Don was lying on the piazza. As soon as he saw his friend, his +exultation knew no bounds. He leaped upon him, and ran round him, +barking and showing the wildest signs of delight. All at once he turned +and ran up into the garden, and came back bringing an apple, which he +laid down at the feet of his young master. It was the only thing he +could think of to do for him--and this sign of his affection was quite +pathetic. + +The reason why Don thought of the apple was probably this: we had +taught him to go and get an apple for the horse, when so directed. We +would say, "Go, Don, get an apple for poor Ruby;" then he would run up +into the garden, and bring an apple, and hold it up to the horse; and +perhaps when the horse tried to take it he would pull it away. After +doing this a few times, he would finally lie down on his back under the +horse's nose, and allow the latter to take the apple from his mouth. +He would also kiss the horse, on being told to do so. When we said, +"Don, kiss poor Ruby," he leaped up and kissed the horse's nose. But he +afterwards hit upon a more convenient method of doing it. He got his +paw over the rein and pulled down the horse's head, so that he could +continue the osculatory process more at his ease, sitting comfortably +on the ground. + +Animals know when they have done wrong; so far, at least, as that means +disobeying our will or command. The only great fault which Don ever +committed was stealing a piece of meat from our neighbor's kitchen. I +do not think he was punished or even scolded for it; for we did not +find it out till later, when it would have done no good to punish him. +But a week or two after that, the gentleman whose kitchen had been +robbed was standing on my lawn, talking with me, and he referred, +laughingly, to what Don had done. He did not even look at the dog, much +less change his tones to those of rebuke. But the moment Don heard his +name mentioned, he turned and walked away, and hid himself under the +low branches of a Norway spruce near by. He was evidently profoundly +ashamed of himself. Was this the result of conscience, or of the love +of approbation? In either case, it was very human. + +That the love of approbation is common to many animals we all know. +Dogs and horses certainly can be influenced by praise and blame, as +easily as men. Many years ago we had occasion to draw a load of gravel, +and we put Ruby into a tip-cart to do the work. He was profoundly +depressed, and evidently felt it as a degradation. He hung his head, +and showed such marks of humiliation that we have never done it since. +But on the other hand, when he goes out, under the saddle, by the side +of a young horse, this veteran animal tries as hard to appear young +as any old bachelor of sixty years who is still ambitious of social +triumphs. He dances along, and goes sideways, and has all the airs and +graces of a young colt. All this, too, is very human. + +At one time my dog was fond of going to the railway station to see +the people, and I always ordered him to go home, fearing he should +be hurt by the cars. He easily understood that if he went there, it +was contrary to my wishes. Nevertheless, he often went; and I do not +know but this fondness for forbidden fruit was rather human, too. So, +whenever he was near the station, if he saw me coming, he would look +the other way, and pretend not to know me. If he met me anywhere else, +he always bounded to meet me with great delight. But at the station +it was quite different. He would pay no attention to my whistle or my +call. He even pretended to be another dog, and would look me right in +the face without apparently recognizing me. He gave me the cut direct, +in the most impertinent manner; the reason evidently being that he knew +he was doing what was wrong, and did not like to be found out. Possibly +he may have relied a little on my near-sightedness, in this manoeuvre. + +That animals have acute observation, memory, imagination, the sense of +approbation, strong affections, and the power of reasoning is therefore +very evident. Lord Bacon also speaks of a dog's reverence for his +master as partaking of a religious element. "Mark," says he, "what +a generosity and courage a dog will put on, when he finds himself +maintained by a man, who to him is instead of a God--which courage +he could not attain, without that confidence in a better nature than +his own." Who that has seen the mute admiration and trust in a dog's +eye, as he looks up at his master, but can see in it something of a +religious reverence, the germ and first principle of religion? + +What, then, is the difference between the human soul and that of the +animal in its highest development? + +That there is a very marked difference between man and the highest +animal is evident. The human being, weaker in proportion than all other +animals, has subjected them all to himself. He has subdued the earth by +his inventions. Physically too feeble to dig a hole in the ground like +a rabbit, or to fell a tree like a beaver; unable to live in the water +like a fish, or to move through the air like a bird; he yet, by his +inventive power and his machinery, can compel the forces of nature to +work for him. They are the true genii, slaves of his lamp. Air, fire, +water, electricity, and magnetism build his cities and his stately +ships, run his errands, carry him from land to land, and accept him as +their master. + +Whence does man obtain this power? Some say it is _the human hand_ +which has made man supreme. It is, no doubt, a wonderful machine; a +box of tools in itself. The size and strength of the thumb, and the +power of opposing it to the extremities of the fingers, distinguishes, +according to most anatomists, the human hand from that of the +quadrumanous animals. In those monkeys which are nearest to man, the +thumb is so short and weak, and the fingers so long and slender, +that their tips can scarcely be brought in opposition. Excellent for +climbing, they are not good for taking up small objects or supporting +large ones. But the hand of man could accomplish little without the +mind behind it. It was therefore a good remark of Galen, that "man is +not the wisest of animals because he has a hand; but God has given him +a hand because he is the wisest of animals." + +The size of the human brain, relatively greater than that of almost any +other animal; man's structure, adapting him to stand erect; his ability +to exist in all climates; his power of subsisting on varied food: all +these facts of his physical nature are associated with his superior +mental power, but do not produce it. The question recurs, What enables +him to stand at the head of the animal creation? + +Perhaps the chief apparent distinctions between man and other animals +are these:-- + +1. The lowest races of men use tools; other animals do not. + +2. The lowest human beings possess a verbal language; other animals +have none. + +3. Man has the capacity of self-culture, as an individual; other +animals have not. + +4. Human beings, associated in society, are capable of progress in +civilization, by means of science, art, literature, and religion; other +animals are not. + +5. Men have a capacity for religion; no animal, except man, has this. + +The lowest races of men use tools, but no other animal does this. This +is so universally admitted by science that the presence of the rudest +tools of stone is considered a sufficient trace of the presence of man. +If stone hatchets or hammers or arrowheads are found in any stratum, +though no human bones are detected, anthropologists regard this as +a sufficient proof of the existence of human beings in the period +indicated by such a geologic formation. The only tools used by animals +in procuring food, in war, or in building their homes, are their +natural organs: their beaks, teeth, claws, etc. It may be added that +man alone wears clothes; other animals being sufficiently clothed by +nature. No animals make a fire, though they often suffer from cold; but +there is no race of men unacquainted with the use of fire.[20] + +No animals possess a verbal language. Animals can remember some of the +words used by men, and associate with them their meaning. But this is +not the use of language. It is merely the memory of two associated +facts,--as when the animal recollects where he found food, and goes to +the same place to look for it again. Animals have different cries, +indicating different wants. They use one cry to call their mate, +another to terrify their prey. But this is not the use of verbal +language. Human language implies not merely an acquaintance with the +meaning of particular words, but the power of putting them together in +a sentence. Animals have no such language as this; for, if they had, +it would have been learned by men. Man has the power of learning any +verbal language. Adelung and Vater reckon over three thousand languages +spoken by men, and any man can learn any of them. The negroes speak +their own languages in their own countries; they speak Arabic in North +Africa; they learn to speak English, French, and Spanish in America, +and Oriental languages when they go to the East. If any animals had a +verbal language, with its vocabulary and grammar, men would long ago +have learned it, and would have been able to converse with them. + +Again, no animal except man is capable of self-culture, as an +individual. Animals are trained by external influences; they do not +teach themselves. An old wolf is much more cunning than a young one, +but he has been made so by the force of circumstances. You can teach +your dog tricks, but no dog has ever taught himself any. Yet the lowest +savages teach themselves to make tools, to ornament their paddles +and clubs, and acquire certain arts by diligent effort. Birds will +sometimes practice the tunes which they hear played, till they have +learned them. They will also sometimes imitate each other's songs. +That is, they possess the power of vocal imitation. But to imitate +the sounds we hear is not self-culture. It is not developing a new +power, but it is exercising in a new way a natural gift. Yet we must +admit that in this habit of birds there is the rudiment, at least, of +self-education. + +All races of men are capable of progress in civilization. Many, +indeed, remain in a savage state for thousands of years, and we cannot +positively prove that any particular race which has always been +uncivilized is capable of civilization. But we are led to believe +it from having known of so many tribes of men who have emerged from +apathy, ignorance, and barbarism into the light of science and art. +So it was with all the Teutonic races,--the Goths, Germans, Kelts, +Lombards, Scandinavians. So it was with the Arabs, who roamed for +thousands of years over the deserts, a race of ignorant robbers, and +then, filled with the great inspiration of Islam, flamed up into a +brilliant coruscation of science, literature, art, military success, +and profound learning. What great civilizations have grown up in +China, India, Persia, Assyria, Babylon, Phoenicia, Egypt, Greece, +Rome, Carthage, Etruria! But no such progress has ever appeared among +the animals. As their parents were, five thousand years ago, so, +essentially, are they now. + +Nor are animals religious, in the sense of worshiping unseen powers +higher than themselves. My horse showed a sense of the supernatural, +but this is not worship. + +These are some of the most marked points of difference between man and +all other animals. Now these can all be accounted for by the hypothesis +in which Locke and Leibnitz both agreed; namely, that while animals are +capable of reasoning about facts, they are incapable of abstract ideas. +Or, we may say with Coleridge, that while animals, in common with man, +possess the faculty of understanding, they do not possess that of +reason. Coleridge seems to have intended by this exactly what Locke +and Leibnitz meant by their statement. When my dog Don heard the word +"apple," he thought of the particular concrete apple under the tree; +and not of apples in general, and their relation to pears, peaches, +etc. Don understood me when I told him to go and get an apple, and +obeyed; but he would not have understood me if I had remarked to him +that apples were better than pears, more wholesome than peaches, not so +handsome as grapes. I should then have gone into the region of abstract +and general ideas. + +Now it is precisely the possession of this power of abstract thought +which will explain the superiority of man to all other animals. It +explains the use of tools; for a tool is an instrument prepared, not +for one special purpose, but to be used generally, in certain ways. +A baboon, like a man, might pick up a particular stone with which to +crack a particular nut; but the ape does not make and keep a stone +hammer, to be used on many similar occasions. A box of tools contains a +collection of saws, planes, draw-knives, etc., not made to use on one +occasion merely, but made for sawing, cutting, and planing purposes +generally. + +Still more evident is it that the power of abstraction is necessary +for verbal language. We do not here use the common term "articulate +speech," for we can conceive of animals articulating their vocal +sounds. But "a word" is an abstraction. The notion is lifted out of the +concrete particular fact, and deposited in the abstract general term. +All words, except proper names, are abstract; and to possess and use a +verbal language is impossible, without the possession of this mental +faculty. + +In regard to self-culture, it is clear that for any steady progress +one must keep before his mind an abstract idea of what he wishes to +do. This enables him to rise above impulse, passion, instinct, habit, +circumstance. By the steady contemplation of the proposed aim, one can +arrange circumstances, restrain impulse, direct one's activity, and +become really free. + +In like manner, races become developed in civilization by the impact +of abstract ideas. Sometimes it is by coming in contact with other +civilized nations, which gives them an ideal superior to anything +before known. Sometimes the motive power of their progress is the +reception of truths of science, art, literature, or religion. + +It is not necessary to show that without abstract, universal, and +necessary ideas no religion is possible; for religion, being the +worship of unseen powers, conceived as existing, as active, as +spiritual, necessarily implies these ideas in the mind of the worshiper. + +We find, then, in the soul of animals all active, affectionate, +and intelligent capacities, as in that of man. The only difference +is that man is capable of abstract ideas, which give him a larger +liberty of action, which enable him to adopt an aim and pursue it, +and which change his affections from an instinctive attachment into a +principle of generous love. Add, then, to the animal soul the capacity +for abstract ideas, and it would rise at once to the level of man. +Meantime, in a large part of their nature, they have the same faculties +with ourselves. They share our emotions, and we theirs. They are made +"a little lower" than man, and if we are souls, so surely are they. + +Are they immortal? To discuss this question would require more space +than we can here give to it. For my own part, I fully believe in the +continued existence of all souls, at the same time assuming their +continued advance. The law of life is progress; and one of the best +features in the somewhat unspiritual theory of Darwin is its profound +faith in perpetual improvement. This theory is the most startling +optimism that has ever been taught, for it makes perpetual progress to +be the law of the whole universe. + +Many of the arguments for the immortality of man cannot indeed be +used for our dumb relations, the animals. We cannot argue from their +universal faith in a future life; nor contend that they need an +immortality on moral grounds, to recompense their good conduct and +punish their wickedness. We might indeed adduce a reason implied in +our Saviour's parable, and believe that the poor creatures who have +received their evil things in this life will be comforted in another. +Moreover, we might find in many animals qualities fitting them for a +higher state. There are animals, as we have seen, who show a fidelity, +courage, generosity, often superior to what we see in man. The dogs +who have loved their master more than food, and starved to death on +his grave, are surely well fitted for a higher existence. Jesse tells +a story of a cat which was being stoned by cruel boys. Men went by, +and did not interfere; but a dog, that saw it, did. He drove away the +boys, and then took the cat to his kennel, licked her all over with his +tongue, and his conduct interested people, who brought her milk. The +canine nurse took care of her till she was well, and the cat and dog +remained fast friends ever after. Such an action in a man would have +been called heroic; and we think such a dog would not be out of place +in heaven. + +Yet it is not so much on particular cases of animal superiority that +we rely, but on the difficulty of conceiving, in any sense, of the +destruction of life. The principle of life, whether we call it soul +or body, matter or spirit, escapes all observation of the senses. All +that we know of it by observation is that, beside the particles of +matter which compose an organized body, there is something else, not +cognizable by the senses, which attracts and dismisses them, modifies +and coordinates them. The unity of the body is not to be found in +its sensible phenomena, but in something which escapes the senses. +Into the vortex of that life material molecules are being continually +absorbed, and from it they are perpetually discharged. If death means +the dissolution of the body, we die many times in the course of our +earthly career, for every body is said by human anatomists to be +changed in all its particles once in seven years. What then remains, +if all the particles go? The principle of organization remains, and +this invisible, persistent principle constitutes the identity of every +organized body. If I say that I have the _same_ body when I am fifty +which I had at twenty, it is because I mean by "body" that which +continues unaltered amid the fast-flying particles of matter. This life +principle makes and remakes the material frame; that body does not +make it. When what we call death intervenes, all that we can assert +is that the life principle has done wholly and at once what it has +always been doing gradually and in part. What happens to the material +particles, we see: they become detached from the organizing principle, +and relapse into simply mechanical and chemical conditions. What has +happened to that organizing principle we neither see nor know; and we +have absolutely no reason at all for saying that it has ceased to exist. + +This is as true of plants and of animals as of men; and there is no +reason for supposing that when these die their principle of life +is ended. It probably has reached a crisis, which consists in the +putting on of new forms and ascending into a higher order of organized +existence. + + + + +APROPOS OF TYNDALL[21] + + +We have all read in our "Vicar of Wakefield" the famous speech made +by the venerable and learned Ephraim Jenkinson to good Dr. Primrose: +"The cosmogony, or creation of the world, has puzzled philosophers in +all ages. Sanchoniathon, Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus have +all attempted it in vain," etc. But we hardly expected to have this +question of cosmogony reopened by an eminent scientist in an address +to the British Association. What "Sanchoniathon, Manetho, Berosus, and +Ocellus Lucanus have all attempted in vain" Professor Tyndall has not +only discussed before a body of men learned in the physical sciences, +but has done it in such a manner as to rouse two continents to a new +interest in the question. One party has immediately accused him of +irreligion and infidelity, while another has declared his statements +innocent if not virtuous. But the question which has been least debated +is, What has the professor really said? or, Has he said anything? + +The celebrated sentence which has occasioned this excitement is as +follows:-- + +"Abandoning all disguise, the confession that I feel bound to make +before you is, that I prolong the vision backward across the boundary +of the experimental evidence, and discern in that matter which we in +our ignorance, and notwithstanding our professed reverence for its +Creator, have hitherto covered with opprobrium, the promise and potency +of every form and quality of life." + +Does he, then, declare himself a materialist? A materialist is one +who asserts everything which exists to be matter, or an affection of +matter. What, then, is matter, and how is that to be defined? The +common definition of matter is, that which is perceived by the senses, +or the substance underlying sensible phenomena. By means of the senses +we perceive such qualities or phenomena as resistance, form, color, +perfume, sound. Whenever we observe these phenomena, whenever we see, +hear, taste, touch, or smell, we attribute the affections thus excited +to an external substance, which we call _matter_. But we are aware of +other phenomena which are _not_ perceived by the senses,--- such as +thought, love, and will. We are as certain of their existence as we +are of sensible phenomena. I am as sure of the reality of love as I am +of the whiteness of chalk. By a law of our mind, whenever we perceive +sensible phenomena, we necessarily attribute them to a substance +outside of ourselves, which we call matter. And by another law, or the +same law, whenever we perceive the phenomena of consciousness, we +necessarily attribute them to a substance which we call soul, mind, or +spirit. All that we know of matter, and all that we know of soul, is +their phenomena, and as these are entirely different, we are obliged +to assume that matter and mind are different. None of the qualities or +attributes of matter belong to mind, none of those of mind to matter. + +Does Tyndall deny this distinction? Apparently not. He not only makes +Bishop Butler declare, with unanswerable power, that materialism can +never show any connection between molecular processes and the phenomena +of consciousness, but he distinctly iterates this in his own person +at the end of the address; asserting that there is no fusion possible +between the two classes of facts, those of sensation and those of +consciousness. Professor Tyndall, then, in the famous sentence above +quoted, does not declare himself a materialist in the only sense +in which the term has hitherto been used. He does not pretend that +sensation, thought, emotion, and will are reducible, in the last +analysis, to solidity, extension, divisibility, etc.; he positively and +absolutely denies this. + +When Tyndall, therefore, asserts that he discerns in matter the +promise and potency of every form and quality of life, he uses the +word "matter" in a new sense. He does not mean by it the underlying +subject of sensible phenomena. It is not the matter which we see, +hear, touch, taste, and smell. What is it then? It is something beyond +the limits of observation and experiment; for he says that in order to +discover it we must "prolong the vision backward across the boundary +of the experimental evidence." In short, it is something which we know +nothing about. It is a conjecture, an opinion, a theoretical matter. In +another place he calls this imaginary substance "a cosmical life." This +something, which shall be the common basis of the phenomena of sense +and soul, not only is not known, but apparently is not knowable. For he +assures us that the very attempt to understand this cosmical life which +makes the connection between physical and mental phenomena, is "to soar +in a vacuum," or "to try to lift one's self by his own waistband." + +Of course, then, the contents of the famous sentence are not _science_. +It is not the great scientist, the profound observer of nature, the +distinguished experimentalist, who speaks to us in that sentence, but +one who is theorizing, as we all have a right to theorize. We also, +if we choose, may imagine some "cosmical life" behind both matter and +soul, as the common origin of both, and call this life _spirit_. We +shall then be thinking of exactly the same substance that Tyndall is +thinking of, only we give it another name. He has merely given another +name to the great Being behind all the phenomena of body and soul, out +of which or whom all proceed. But to give another name to a fact is +not to tell us anything more about it. All meaning having evaporated +from the word "matter," the sentence loses its whole significance, and +it appears that the alarming declaration asserts nothing at all! In +"abandoning all disguise" Tyndall has run little risk, for our analysis +shows that he has not asserted anything except, perhaps, this, that +there is, in his judgment, some unknown common basis in which matter +and mind both inhere. This assertion is not alarming nor dangerous, for +it is only what has always been believed. + +As there is no materialism, in any known sense of that term, in the +doctrine of this address, so likewise there is no atheism. In fact, in +this same sentence Tyndall speaks of the "creator" of what he likes +to call "matter" or "cosmical life." He objects strongly to a creator +who works mechanically, and he seems to reprove Darwin for admitting +an original or primordial form, created at first by the Deity. "The +anthropomorphism, which it seemed the object of Mr. Darwin to set +aside, is as firmly associated with the creation of a few forms as with +the creation of a multitude." In another passage he says: "Is there not +a temptation to close to some extent with Lucretius, when he affirms +that nature is seen to do all things spontaneously of herself without +the meddling of the gods?". But this last sentence shows a singular +vacillation in so clear a thinker as Tyndall. How can one close "to +some extent" with such a statement as that of Lucretius? Either the +gods meddle, or they do not meddle. They can hardly be considered as +meddling "to some extent." In still another passage he contrasts the +doctrine of evolution with the usual doctrine of creation, rejecting +the last in favor of the other, because creation makes of God "an +artificer, fashioned after the human model, and acting by broken +efforts, as man is seen to act." + +All these expressions are somewhat vague, implying, as it seems, a +certain obscurity in Tyndall's own thought. But it is not atheism. +His "cosmical life" probably is exactly what Cudworth means by +"plastic life." It is well known that Cudworth, whose great work +is a confutation of all atheism, himself admits what he calls "a +plastic nature" in the universe as a subordinate instrument of divine +Providence. Just as Tyndall objects to regarding the Deity as "an +artificer," Cudworth objects to the "mechanic theists," who make the +Deity act directly upon matter from without, by separate efforts, +instead of pouring a creative and arranging life into nature. We can +easily see that Cudworth, like Tyndall, would object to Darwin's one or +two "primordial germs." His "plastic nature" is working everywhere and +always, though under a divine guidance. It is "a life," and therefore +incorporeal. It is an unconscious life, which acts, not knowingly, +but fatally. Man, according to Cudworth, partakes of this life from +the life of the universe, just as he partakes of heat and cold from +the heat and cold of the universe. Thus Cudworth, believing in some +such "cosmical life" as Tyndall imagines, conceives it as being itself +the organ and instrument of the Deity. Tyndall, therefore, though +less clear in his statements than Cudworth, is not logically involved +in atheism by those statements, unless we implicate in the same +condemnation the writer whose vast work constitutes the fullest arsenal +of weapons against all the forms of atheism. + +Unfortunately, however, Tyndall does not come to any clearness on +this point, which in one possessing such a lucidity of intellect must +be occasioned by his leaving his own domain of science and venturing +into this metaphysical world, with which he is not so familiar. +His acquaintance with the history of these studies seems not to be +extensive. For example, he attributes to Herbert Spencer, as if he were +the discoverer, what both Hobbes and Descartes had already stated, +that there is no necessary resemblance between our sensations and the +external objects from which they are derived. In regard to a belief in +God, he tells us that in his weaker moments he loses it, or that it +becomes clouded and dim, but that when he is at his best he accepts it +most fully. This belief, therefore, is not with Tyndall a matter of +conviction, founded on reason, but a question of moods. No wonder, +then, that he relegates religion to the region of sentiment, and +declares that it has nothing to do with knowledge. It must not touch +any question of cosmogony, or, if it does, must "submit to the control +of science" in that field. But what has science to do with cosmogony? +Science rests on observation of facts; but our professor tells us +that he obtains his great cosmological idea of "a cosmical life" by +prolonging his vision backward "across the boundary of the experimental +evidence." Such science as this, which is based on no experience, and +is incapable of verification, has hardly the right to warn religious +belief away from any field. + +Tyndall seems a little astray in making creation and evolution +contradictory and incompatible. Evolution, he tells us, is the +manifestation of a power wholly inscrutable to the intellect of man. We +know that God is,--that is, we know it in our better moods,--but _what_ +God is, we cannot ever know. At all events we must not consider him as +a Creator. "Two courses," says Tyndall, "and only two, are possible. +Either let us open our doors freely to the conception of creative acts, +or, abandoning them, let us radically change our notions of matter." +His objections to the idea of a Creator appear to be (1) that it is +"derived, not from the study of Nature, but from the observation of +men;" and (2) that it represents the Deity "as an artificer, fashioned +after a human model, and acting by broken efforts as man is seen to +act." + +Are these objections sound? When we study man, are we not then also +studying Nature? Is not man himself the highest manifestation of +Nature? If so, and if we see the quality of any power best in its +highest and fullest operations, we can study the nature of God best +by looking into our own. We should, in fact, know very little of +Nature if we did not look within as well as without. Tyndall justly +demands unlimited freedom of investigation in the pursuit of science. +But whence came this very idea of freedom except from the human mind? +Nothing in the external world is free; all is fatal. Such ideas as +cause, force, substance, law, unity, ideality, are not observed in +the outward world--they are given by the activity of the mind itself. +Subtract these from our thought, and we should know very little of +Nature or its origin. + +No doubt the idea of a Creator, and of one perfect in wisdom, power, +and goodness, is derived by man from his own mind. But it is not +necessary that such a Creator should be an "artificer," or proceed by +"broken efforts." He may act by evolution, or processes of development. +He may create perpetually, by a life flowing from himself into all +things. He may create the universe anew at every moment--not as a +man lights a torch with a match and then goes away, but as the sun +creates his image in the water by a perpetual process. Thus God may be +regarded as _creating_ each animal and each plant, while he maintains +the mysterious force of development by which it grows from its egg or +its seed. The essential idea of creation is an infinite cause, acting +according to a perfect intelligence, for a perfect good. There is +nothing, necessarily, of an artificer or of broken efforts in this. It +is the very idea of divine creation given in the New Testament. "From +whom, and through whom, and to whom, are all things." "In him, we live, +and move, and have our being." The theist may well accept the view +given by Goethe, in his little poem, "Gott, Gemueth, und Welt." + + "What kind of God would He be who only pushes the universe from + without? + Who lets the All of Things run round and round on his finger? + It becomes him far better to move the universe from within, + To take Nature up into Himself, to let Himself down into Nature, + So that whatever lives, and moves, and has its being in Him + Never loses His power, never misses His spirit." + +Such a conception of God, as a perpetual Creator, is essential to the +intellectual rest of the human mind, and it is painful to see the +irresolution of Professor Tyndall in regard to it. "Clear and confident +as Jove" in the domain which is his own, where his masterly powers of +observation, discrimination, and judgment leave him without a peer, he +seems shorn of his strength on entering this field of metaphysics. +He has warned theology not to trespass on the grounds of science; or, +if she enters them, to submit to science as her superior. Theology +has been in the habit of treating science in the same supercilious +way; telling her that she was an intruder if she ventured to discuss +questions of psychology or religion. This is equally unwise on either +part. Theologians should be glad when men of science become seriously +interested in these great questions of the Whence and the Whither. The +address of Professor Tyndall is excellent in its intention as well as +in its candid and manly treatment of the subject. Its indecision and +indistinctness are probably due to his having accepted too implicitly +the guidance of Spencer, thus assuming that religious truth is +unknowable, that creation is impossible, and that only phenomena can +become objects of knowledge. "Insoluble mystery" is therefore his final +answer to the questions he has himself raised. + +Goethe is wiser when he follows the Apostle Paul, and regards the +Deity as "the fullness which filleth all in all." There is no unity +to thought, and no hope for scientific progress, more than for moral +culture, unless we see intelligence at the centre, intelligence on the +circumference of being. To place an impenetrable darkness instead of +an unclouded light on the throne of the universe, is to throw a shadow +over the Creation. + +We say that there is no unity in thought without this conviction. The +only real unity we know in the world is our own. All we see around +us, including our own body, is divisible, subject to alteration and +change. Only the ego, or soul, is conscious of a perfect unity in a +perpetual identity. Unless we can attribute to the source of all being +a similar personal unity, there can be no coherence to science, but it +must forever remain fragmentary and divided. This is what we mean by +asserting the personality of Deity. This idea reaches what Lord Bacon +calls "the vertical point of natural philosophy" or "the summary law of +Nature," and constitutes, as he declares, "the union of all things in a +perpetual and uniform law." + +And unless we can recognize in the ultimate fountain of being an +intelligent purpose, the meaning of the universe departs. Without +intelligence in the cause there is none in the effect. Then the world +has no meaning, life no aim. The universe comes out of darkness, and is +plunging into darkness again. + +Take away from the domain of knowledge the idea of a creating and +presiding intelligence, and there remains no motive for science itself. +Professor Tyndall is sagacious enough to see and candid enough to admit +that "without moral force to whip it into action the achievements of +the intellect would be poor indeed," and that "science itself not +unfrequently derives motive power from ultra-scientific sources." Faith +in God, as an intelligent creator and ruler of the world, has awakened +enthusiasm for scientific investigation among both the Aryan and the +Semitic races. + +The purest and highest form of monotheism is that of Christianity; and +in Christendom has science made its largest progress. Not by martyrs +for science, but by martyrs for religion, has the human mind been +emancipated. Mr. Tyndall says of scientific freedom, "We fought and won +our battle even in the middle ages." But the heroes of intellectual +liberty have been the heroes of faith. Hundreds of thousands have died +for a religious creed; but how many have died for a scientific theory? +Luther went to Worms, and maintained his opinions there in defiance +of the anathemas of the church and the ban of the empire, but Galileo +denied his most cherished convictions on his knees. Galileo was as +noble a character as Luther; but science does not create the texture +of soul which makes so many martyrs in all the religious sects of +Christendom. Let the doctrine of cosmical force supplant our faith in +the Almighty, and in a few hundred years science would probably fade +out of the world from pure inanition. The world would probably not care +enough for _anything_ to care for science. The light of eternity must +fall on this our human and earthly life, to arouse the soul to a living +and permanent interest even in things seen and temporal. + +Professor Tyndall says: "Whether the views of Lucretius, Darwin, and +Spencer are right or wrong, we claim the freedom to discuss them. The +ground which they cover is scientific ground." + +It is not only a right, but a duty to examine these theories, since +they are held seriously and urged earnestly by able men. But we must +doubt whether they ought to claim the authority of science. They are +proposed by scientific men, and they refer to scientific subjects. But +these theories, in their present development, belong to metaphysics +rather than to science. Science consists, first, of observation of +facts; secondly, of laws inferred from those facts; and thirdly, of +a verification of those laws by new observation and experiment. That +which cannot be verified is no part of science; astronomy is a science, +since every eclipse and occultation verifies its laws; geology is a +science, since every new observation of the strata and their contents +accords with the established part of the system; chemistry is a +science for the same reason. But Darwin's theory of the transformation +of species by natural selection is as yet unverified. "There is no +evidence of a direct descent of earlier from later species in the +geological succession of animals." So says Agassiz, and on this point +his testimony can hardly be impeached. Professor W. Thompson, another +good geological authority, says: "In successive geological formations, +although new species are constantly appearing, and there is abundant +evidence of progressive change, no single case has yet been observed +of one species passing through a series of inappreciable modifications +into another." Neither has any such change taken place within historic +times, for the animals and plants found in the tombs of Egypt are +"identical, in all respects," says M. Quatrefages, "with those now +existing." He adds the opinion, after a very careful and candid +examination of the hypothesis of Darwin, that "the theory and the +facts do not agree." Not being verified, then, this theory is not yet +science, but an unverified mental hypothesis, that is, metaphysics. + +It is important that this should be distinctly said, for when men +eminent in science propound new theories, these theories themselves are +apt to be regarded as science, and those who oppose them are accused +of being opposed to science. This is the tendency which Professor +Tyndall has so justly described in this very address: "When the human +mind has achieved greatness and given evidence of power in any domain, +there is a tendency to credit it with similar power in any other +domain." Because Tyndall is great in experimental science, many are +apt to accept his cosmological conclusions. Because he is a great +observer in natural history, his metaphysical theories are supposed +to be supported by observation, and to rest on experience. Professor +Tyndall's own address terminates, not in science, but nescience. It +treats of a realm of atoms and molecules whose existence science has +never demonstrated, and attributes to them potencies which science has +never verified. It is a system, not made necessary by the stringent +constraint of facts, but avowedly constructed in order to avoid the +belief in an intelligent Creator, and a universe marked by the presence +of design. His theory, he admits, no less than that of Darwin, was not +constructed in the pure interests of truth for its own sake. There was +another purpose in both,--to get rid of a theology of final causes, of +a theology which conceives of God as a human artificer. He wished to +exclude religion from the field of cosmogony, and forbid it to intrude +on the region of knowledge. Theologians have often been reproached +for studying "with a purpose," but it seems that this is a frailty +belonging not to theologians only, but to all human beings who care a +good deal for what they believe. + +Professor Tyndall accepts religious faith as an important element of +human nature, but considers it as confined to the sentiments, and +as not based in knowledge. He doubtless comes to this conclusion +from following too implicitly the traditions of modern English +psychology. These assume that knowledge comes only from without, +through the senses, and never from within, through intuition. This +prepossession, singularly English and insular, is thus stated by John +Stuart Mill in his article on Coleridge. "Sensation, and the mind's +consciousness of its own acts, are not only the exclusive sources, +but the sole materials of our knowledge. There is no knowledge _a +priori_; no truths cognizable by the mind's inward light, and grounded +on intuitive evidence." These views have been developed in England by +the two Mills, Herbert Spencer, Bain, and others, who have made great +efforts to show how sensations may be transformed into thoughts; how +association of ideas may have developed instincts; how hereditary +impressions, repeated for a million years, may at last have taken on +the aspect of necessary truths. In short, they have laid out great +labor and ingenuity in proving that a sensation may, very gradually, be +transformed into a thought. + +But all this labor is probably a waste of time and of intellectual +power. The attempt at turning sensation into thought only results in +turning thought into sensation. It is an error that we only know what +we perceive through the senses, or transform by the action of the +mind. It is not true that we only know that of which we can form a +sensible image. We know the existence of the soul as certainly as that +of the body. We know the infinite and the eternal as well as we know +the finite and temporal. We know substance, cause, immortal beauty, +absolute truth, as surely as the flitting phenomena which pass within +the sphere of sensational experience. These convictions belong, not to +the sphere of sentiment and emotion, but to that of knowledge. It is +because they show us realities and not imaginations, that they nerve +the soul to such vast efforts in the sphere of morals, literature, and +religion. + +The arguments against the independent existence of the soul which +Tyndall puts into the mouth of his Lucretian disciple are not difficult +to answer. "You can form no picture of the soul," he says. No; and +neither can we form a mental picture of love or hate, of right and +wrong, or even of bodily pain and pleasure. "If localized in the body, +the soul must have form." Must a pain, localized in the finger, have +form? "When a leg is amputated, in which part does the soul reside?" +We answer, that the soul resides in the body, with reduced power. Its +instrument is less perfect than before--like a telescope which has +lost a lens. "If consciousness is an essential attribute of the soul, +where is the soul when consciousness ceases by the depression of the +brain?" Is there any difficulty, we reply, in supposing that the soul +may pass sometimes into a state of torpor, when its instrument is +injured? A soul may sleep, and so be unconscious, without being dead. +"The diseased brain may produce immorality: can the reason control it? +If not, what is the use of the reason?" To this we answer that the +soul may lose its power with a diseased body; but when furnished with +another and better body, it will regain it. "If you regard the body +only as an instrument, you will neglect to take care of it." Does the +astronomer neglect to take care of his telescope? + +These answers to the Lucretian may be far from complete; but they are +at least as good as the objections. The soul, no doubt, depends on the +body, and cannot do its work well when the body is out of order; but +does that prove it to be the _result_ of the body? If so, the same +argument would prove the carpenter to be the result of his box of +tools, and the organist to be the result of his organ. The organist +draws sweet music from his instrument. But as his organ grows old, +or is injured by the weather, or the pipes crack, and the pedals get +out of order, the music becomes more and more imperfect. At last the +instrument is wholly ruined, and the music wholly ceases. Is, then, +the organist dead, or was he only the result of the organ? "Without +phosphorus, no thought," say the materialists. True. So, "without the +organ, no music." Just as in addition to the musical instrument we need +a performer, so in addition to the brain we need a soul. + +There are two worlds of knowledge,--the outward world, which is +perceived through the senses, and which belongs to physical science, +and the inward world, perceived by the nobler reason, and from which +a celestial light streams in, irradiating the mind through all its +powers. Religion and science are not opposed, though different; their +spheres are different, though not to be divided. Each is supreme in +its own region, but each needs the help of the other in order to do +its own work well. Professor Tyndall claims freedom of discussion and +inquiry for himself and his scientific brethren, and says he will +oppose to the death any limitation of this liberty. He need not be +anxious on this point. Religious faith has already fought this battle, +and won for science as well as for itself perfect liberty of thought. +The Protestant churches may say, "With a great sum obtained we this +freedom." By the lives of its confessors and the blood of its martyrs +has it secured for all men to-day equal rights of thought and speech. +What neither Copernicus, Kepler, nor Galileo could do was accomplished +by the courage of Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox, and Oliver +Cromwell. + +And now the freedom they obtained by such sacrifices we inherit and +enjoy: "We are free-born." We may be thankful that in most countries +to-day no repression nor dictation prevents any man from expressing +his inmost thought. We are glad that the most rabid unbelief and +extreme denial can be spoken calmly in the open day. This is one great +discovery of modern times, that errors lose half their influence when +openly uttered. We owe this discovery to the Reformation. The reformers +made possible a toleration much larger than their own; unwittingly, +while seeking freedom for their own thoughts, they won the same +freedom for others, who went farther than they. They builded better +than they knew. + + * * * * * + +Professor Tyndall's address is tranquil yet earnest, modest, and manly. +But its best result is, that it shows us the impotence of the method +of sensation to explain the mystery of the universe. It has shown us +clearly the limitations of "the understanding judging by sense"--shown +that it sees our world clearly, but is blind to the other. It can tell +every blade of grass, and name every mineral; but it stands helpless +and hopeless before the problem of being. Science and religion may each +say with the apostle, "We know in part and prophesy in part." Together +and united, they may one day see and know the whole. + + + + +LAW AND DESIGN IN NATURE[22] + + +In the paper which opens this discussion on "Law and Design in Nature," +Professor Newcomb announces in a single sentence a proposition, the +truth or falsehood of which, he tells us, is "the sole question +presented for discussion in the present series of papers." + +But, as soon as we examine this proposition, we find that it contains +not one sole question, but three. The three are independent of each +other, and do not necessarily stand or fall together. They are these:-- + +1. "The whole course of Nature, considered as a succession of +phenomena, is conditioned solely by antecedent causes." + +2. In the action of these causes, "no regard to consequences is +traceable." + +3. And no regard to consequences is "necessary to foresee the +phenomena." + +Of these three propositions I admit the truth of the first; deny +the truth of the second; and, for want of space, and because of its +relative unimportance, leave the third unexamined. + +The first proposition is so evidently true, and so universally +admitted, that it was hardly worth positing for discussion. It is +merely affirming that every natural phenomenon implies a cause. The +word "antecedent" is ambiguous, but, if it intends logical and not +chronological antecedence, it is unobjectionable. So understood, we are +merely asked if we can accept the law of universal causation; which +I suppose we shall all readily do, since this law is the basis of +theology no less than of science. Without it, we could not prove the +existence of the first cause. Professor Newcomb has divided us into two +conflicting schools, one of theology and the other of science. Taking +my place in the school of theology, I think I may safely assert for +my brethren that on this point there is no conflict, but that we all +admit the truth of the law of universal causation. It will be noticed +that Professor Newcomb has carefully worded his statement, so as not to +confine us to physical causes, nor even to exclude supernatural causes +from without, working into the nexus of natural laws. He does not +say "antecedent physical causes," nor does he say "causes which have +existed from the beginning." + +Admitting thus the truth of the first proposition, I must resolutely +deny that of the second; since, by accepting it, I should surrender +the very cause I wish to defend, namely, that we can perceive design +in Nature. Final causes are those which "regard consequences." The +principle of finality is defined by M. Janet (in his recent exhaustive +work, "Les Causes finales") as "the present determined by the future." +One example of the way in which we can trace in Nature "a regard to +consequences" is so excellently stated by this eminent philosopher +that we will introduce it here: "Consider what is implied in the egg +of a bird. In the mystery and night of incubation there comes, by the +combination of an incredible number of causes, a living machine within +the egg. It is absolutely separated from the external world, but every +part is related to some future use. The outward physical world which +the creature is to inhabit is wholly divided by impenetrable veils from +this internal laboratory; but a preestablished harmony exists between +them. Without, there is light; within, an optical machine adapted to +it. Without, there is sound; within, an acoustic apparatus. Without, +are vegetables and animals; within, organs for their reception and +assimilation. Without, is air; within, lungs with which to breathe it. +Without, is oxygen; within, blood to be oxygenized. Without, is earth; +within, feet are being made to walk on it. Without, is the atmosphere; +within, are wings with which to fly through it. Now imagine a blind +and idiotic workman, alone in a cellar, who simply by moving his limbs +to and fro should be found to have forged a key capable of opening +the most complex lock. If we exclude design, this is what Nature is +supposed to be doing." + +That design exists in Nature, and that earthly phenomena actually +depend on final causes as well as on efficient causes, appears from +the industry of man. Man is certainly a part of Nature, and those who +accept evolution must regard him as the highest development resulting +from natural processes. Now, all over the earth, from morning till +evening, men are acting for ends. "Regard to consequences is traceable" +in all their conduct. They are moved by hope and expectation. They +devise plans, and act for a purpose. From the savage hammering his +flint arrowheads, up to a Shakespeare composing "Hamlet," a Columbus +seeking a new way to Asia, or a Paul converting Europe to a Syrian +religion, human industry is a constant proof that a large part of +the course of Nature on this earth is the result of design. And, as +man develops into higher stages, this principle of design rises also +from the simple to the complex, taking ever larger forms. A ship, for +instance, shows throughout the adaptation of means to ends, by which +complex adaptations produce a unity of result. + +And that there is no conflict between the action of physical causes +and final causes is demonstrated by the works of man, since they all +result from the harmonious action of both. In studying human works we +ask two questions,--"How?" and "Why?" We ask, "What is it for?" and +"How is it done?" The two lines of inquiry run parallel, and without +conflict. So, in studying the works of Nature, to seek for design does +not obstruct the investigation of causes, and may often aid it. Thus +Harvey is said to have been led to the discovery of the circulation of +the blood by seeking for the use of the valves of the veins and heart. + +The human mind is so constituted that, whenever it sees an event, +it is obliged to infer a cause. So, whenever it sees adaptation, it +infers design. It is not necessary to know the end proposed, or who +were the agents. Adaptation itself, implying the use of means, leads us +irresistibly to infer intention. We do not know who built Stonehenge, +or some of the pyramids, or what they were built for; but no one doubts +that they were the result of design. This inference is strengthened +if we see combination toward an end, and preparation made beforehand +for a result which comes afterward. From preparation, combination, and +adaptation, we are led to believe in the presence of human design even +where we did not before know of the presence of human beings. A few +rudely shaped stones, found in a stratum belonging to the Quaternary +period, in which man had before not been believed to exist, changed +that opinion. Those chipped flints showed adaptation; from adaptation +design was inferred; and design implied the presence of man. + +Now, we find in Nature, especially in the organization and +instincts of animals, myriads of similar instances of preparation, +combination, and adaptation. Two explanations only of this occurred +to antiquity,--design and chance. Socrates, Plato, and others, were +led by such facts to infer the creation of the world by an intelligent +author--"ille opifex rerum." Democritus, Epicurus, and Lucretius, +ascribed it to the fortuitous concourse of atoms. But modern science +has expelled chance from the universe, and substituted law. Laplace, +observing forty-three instances in the solar system of planets and +their satellites revolving on their axes or moving in their orbits, +from west to east, declared that this could not be a mere coincidence. +Chance, therefore, being set aside, the question takes another form: +"Did the cosmos that we see come by design or by law?" + +But does this really change the question? Granting, for example, the +truth of the theory of the development of all forms of life, under the +operation of law, from a primal cell, we must then ask, "Did these +_laws_ come by chance or by design?" It is not possible to evade that +issue. If the universe resulted from non-intelligent forces, those +forces themselves must have existed as the result of chance or of +intelligence. If you put out the eyes, you leave blindness; if you +strike intelligence out of the creative mystery, you leave blind +forces, the result of accident. Whatever is not from intelligence is +from accident. To substitute law for chance is merely removing the +difficulty a little further back; it does not solve it. + +To eliminate interventions from the universe is not to remove design. +The most profound theists have denied such interruptions of the course +of Nature. Leibnitz is an illustrious example of this. Janet declares +him to have been the true author of the theory of evolution, by his +"Law of Continuity," of "Insensible Perceptions," and of "Infinitely +Small Increments." Yet he also fully believed in final causes. +Descartes, who objected to some teleological statements, believed that +the Creator imposed laws on chaos by which the world emerged into a +cosmos. We know that existing animals are evolved by a continuous +process from eggs, and existing vegetables by a like process from +seeds. No one ever supposed that there was less of design on this +account in their creation. So, if all existing things came at first by +a like process from a single germ, it would not argue less, but far +more, of design in the universe. + +The theory of "natural selection" does not enable us to dispense with +final causes. This theory requires the existence of forces working +according to the law of heredity and the law of variation, together +with a suitable environment. But whence came this arrangement, by +which a law of heredity was combined with a law of variation, and +both made to act in a suitable environment? Here we find again the +three marks of a designing intelligence: preparation, combination, +adaptation. That intelligence which combines and adapts means to ends +is merely remanded to the initial step of the process, instead of being +allowed to act continuously along the whole line of evolution. Even +though you can explain by the action of mechanical forces the whole +development of the solar system and its contents from a nebula, you +have only accumulated all the action of a creative intelligence in the +nebula itself. Because I can explain the mechanical process by which a +watch keeps time, I have not excluded the necessity of a watchmaker. +Because, walking through my neighbor's grounds, I come upon a water-ram +pumping up water by a purely mechanical process, I do not argue that +this mechanism makes the assumption of an inventor superfluous. In +human industry we perceive a power capable of using the blind forces +of Nature for an intelligent end; which prepares beforehand for the +intended result; which combines various conditions suited to produce +it, and so creates order, system, use. But we observe in Nature exactly +similar examples of order, method, and system, resulting from a vast +number of combinations, correlations, and adaptations of natural +forces. Man himself is such a result. He is an animal capable of +activity, happiness, progress. But innumerable causes are combined and +harmonized in his physical frame, each necessary to this end. As the +human intelligence is the only power we know capable of accomplishing +such results, analogy leads us to assume that a similar intelligence +presides over the like combinations of means to ends in Nature. If any +one questions the value of this argument from analogy, let him remember +how entirely we rely upon it in all the business of life. We _know_ +only the motives which govern our own actions; but we infer by analogy +that others act from similar motives. Knowing that we ourselves combine +means designed to effect ends, when we see others adapting means to +ends, we assume that they act also with design. Hence we have a right +to extend the argument further and higher. + +The result of what I have said is this: The phenomena of the universe +cannot be satisfactorily explained except by the study both of +efficient causes and of final causes. Routine scientists, confining +themselves to the one, and routine theologians, confining themselves +to the other, may suppose them to be in conflict. But men of larger +insight, like Leibnitz, Newton, Descartes, and Bacon, easily see the +harmony between them. Like Hegel they say: "Nature is no less artful +than powerful; it attains its end while it allows all things to act +according to their constitution;" or they declare with Bacon that "the +highest link of Nature's chain is fastened to the foot of Jupiter's +chair." But the belief in final causes does not imply belief in +supernatural intervention, nor of any disturbance in the continuity of +natural processes. It means that Nature is pervaded by an intelligent +presence; that mind is above and around matter; that mechanical laws +are themselves a manifestation of some providing wisdom, and that when +we say Nature we also say God.[23] + + + + +HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL + + + + +THE TWO CARLYLES, OR CARLYLE PAST AND PRESENT[24] + + +In Thomas Carlyle's earlier days, when he followed a better inspiration +than his present,--when his writings were steeped, not in cynicism, but +in the pure human love of his fellow beings,--in the days when he did +not worship Force, but Truth and Goodness,--in those days, it was the +fashion of critics to pass the most sweeping censures on his writings +as "affected," "unintelligible," "extravagant." But he worked his way +on, in spite of that superficial criticism,--he won for himself an +audience; he gained renown; he became authentic. _Now_, the same class +of critics admire and praise whatever he writes. For the rule with +most critics is that of the bully in school and college,--to tyrannize +over the new boys, to abuse the strangers, but to treat with respect +whoever has bravely fought his way into a recognized position. Carlyle +has fought his way into the position of a great literary chief,--so +now he may be ever so careless, ever so willful, and he will be spoken +of in high terms by all monthlies and quarterlies. When he deserved +admiration, he was treated with cool contempt; now that he deserves +the sharpest criticism, not only for his false moral position, but +for his gross literary sins, the critics treat him with deference and +respect. + +But let us say beforehand that we can never write of Thomas Carlyle +with bitterness. We have received too much good from him in past +days. He is our "Lost Leader," but we have loved and honored him as +few men were ever loved and honored. It is therefore with tenderness, +and not any cold, indifferent criticism, that we find fault with him +now. We shall always be grateful to the real Carlyle, the old Carlyle +of "Sartor Resartus," of the "French Revolution," of the "Life of +Schiller," of "Heroes and Hero-Worship," and of that long and noble +series of articles in the Edinburgh, Foreign Review, Westminster, and +Frazer, each of which illuminated some theme, and threw the glory of +genius over whatever his mind touched or his pencil drew. + + * * * * * + +Carlyle's "Frederick the Great"[25] seems to us a badly written book. +Let us consider the volume containing the fifteenth, sixteenth, and +seventeenth chapters. Nothing in these chapters is brought out clearly. +When we have finished the book, the mind is filled with a confusion of +vague images. We know that Mr. Carlyle is not bound to "provide us +with brains" as well as with a history, but neither was he so bound in +other days. Yet no such confusion was left after reading the "French +Revolution." How brilliantly distinct was every leading event, every +influential person, every pathetic or poetic episode, in that charmed +narrative! Who can forget Carlyle's account of the "Menads," the +King's "Flight to Varennes," the Constitutions that "would not march," +the "September Massacres," "Charlotte Corday,"--every chief tragic +movement, every grotesque episode, moving forward, distinct and clear, +to the final issue, "a whiff of grapeshot"? Is there anything like that +in this confused "Frederick"? + +Compare, for example, the chapters on Voltaire in the present volume +with the article on Voltaire published in 1829. + +The sixteenth book is devoted to the ten years of peace which followed +the second Silesian war. These were from 1746 to 1756. The book +contains fifteen chapters. Carlyle begins, in chapter i., by lamenting +that there is very little to be known or said about these ten years. +"Nothing visible in them of main significance but a crash of authors' +quarrels, and the crowning visit of Voltaire." Yet one would think +that matter enough might be found in describing the immense activity +of Friedrich, of which Macaulay says, "His exertions were such as were +hardly to be expected from a human body or a human mind." During these +years Frederick brought a seventh part of his people into the army, +and organized and drilled it under his own personal inspection, till +it became the finest in Europe. He compiled a code of laws, in which +he, among the first, abolished torture. He made constant journeys +through his dominions, examining the condition of manufactures, +arts, commerce, and agriculture. He introduced the strictest economy +into the expenditures of the state. He indulged himself, indeed, +in various architectural extravagances at Berlin and Potsdam,--but +otherwise saved every florin for his army. He wrote "Memoirs of the +House of Brandenburg," and an epic poem on the "Art of War." But our +author disdains to give us an account of these things. They are not +picturesque, they can be told in only general terms, and Carlyle +will tell us only what an eyewitness could see or a listener hear. +Accordingly, instead of giving us an account of these great labors of +his hero, he inserts (chapter ii.) "a peep at Voltaire and his divine +Emilie," "a visit to Frederick by Marshal Saxe;" (chapter iii.) a long +account of Candidate Linsenbarth's visit to the king; "Sir Jonas Hanway +stalks across the scene;" the lawsuit of Voltaire about the Jew Hirsch; +"a demon news-writer gives an idea of Friedrich;" the quarrel of +Voltaire and Maupertuis; "Friedrich is visible in Holland to the naked +eye for some minutes." + +This is very unsatisfactory. Reports of eyewitnesses are, no doubt, +picturesque and valuable; but so only on condition of being properly +arranged, and tending, in their use, toward some positive result. Then +the tone of banter, of irony, almost of persiflage, is discouraging. If +the whole story of Friedrich is so unintelligible, uninteresting, or +incommunicable, why take the trouble to write it? The _poco-curante_ +air with which he narrates, as though it were of no great consequence +whether he told his story or not, contrasts wonderfully with his early +earnestness. Carlyle writes this history like a man thoroughly _blase_. +Impossible for him to take any interest in it himself,--how, then, does +he expect to interest us? Has he not himself told us, in his former +writings, that the man who proposes to teach others anything must be +good enough to believe it first himself? + +Here is the problem we have to solve. How came this change from the +Carlyle of the Past to the Carlyle of the Present,--from Carlyle the +universal believer to Carlyle the universal skeptic,--from him to whom +the world was full of wonder and beauty, to him who can see in it +nothing but Force on the one side and Shams on the other? What changed +that tender, loving, brave soul into this hard cynic? And how was it, +as Faith and Love faded out of him, that the life passed from his +thought, the glory from his pen, and the page, once alive with flashing +ideas, turned into this confused heap of rubbish, in which silver +spoons, old shoes, gold sovereigns, and copper pennies are pitched out +promiscuously, for the patient reader to sift and pick over as he can? +In reading the Carlyle of thirty years ago, we were like California +miners,--come upon a rich _placer_, never before opened, where we could +all become rich in a day. Now the reader of Carlyle is a _chiffonier_, +raking in a heap of street dust for whatever precious matters may turn +up. + +To investigate this question is our purpose now,--and in doing so we +will consider, in succession, these two Carlyles. + +I. It was about the year 1830 that readers of books in this vicinity +became aware of a new power coming up in the literary republic. +Opinions concerning him varied widely. To some he seemed a Jack Cade, +leader of rebels, foe to good taste and all sound opinions. Especially +did his admiration for Goethe and for German literature seem to many +preposterous and extravagant. It was said of these, that "the force +of folly could no further go,"--that they "constituted a burlesque +too extravagant to be amusing." The tone of Carlyle was said to be of +"unbounded assumption;" his language to be "obscure and barbarous;" his +ideas composed of "extravagant paradoxes, familiar truths or familiar +falsehoods;" "wildest extravagance and merest silliness." + +But to others, and especially to the younger men, this new writer +came, opening up unknown worlds of beauty and wonder. A strange +influence, unlike any other, attracted us to his writing. Before we +knew his name, we knew _him_. We could recognize an article by our new +author as soon as we opened the pages of the Foreign Review, Edinburgh, +or Westminster, and read a few paragraphs. But it was not the style, +though marked by a singular freedom and originality--not the tone of +kindly humor, the good-natured irony, the happy illustrations brought +from afar,--not the amount of literary knowledge, the familiarity with +German, French, Italian, Spanish literature,--not any or all of these +which so bewitched us. We knew a young man who used to walk from a +neighboring town to Boston every week, in order to read over again two +articles by Carlyle in two numbers of the Foreign Review lying on a +table in the reading-room of the Athenaeum. This was his food, in the +strength of which he could go a week, till hunger drove him back to +get another meal at the same table. We knew other young men and young +women who taught themselves German in order to read for themselves +the authors made so luminous by this writer. Those were counted +fortunate who possessed the works of our author, as yet unpublished +in America,--his "Life of Schiller," his "German Romance," his Review +articles. What, then, was the charm,--whence the fascination? + +To explain this we must describe a little the state of literature and +opinion in this vicinity at the time when Carlyle's writings first made +their appearance. + +Unitarianism and Orthodoxy had fought their battle, and were resting +on their arms. Each had intrenched itself in certain positions, each +had won to its side most of those who legitimately belonged to it. +Controversy had done all it could, and had come to an end. Among the +Unitarians, the so-called "practical preaching" was in vogue; that is, +ethical and moral essays, pointing out the goodness of being good, +and the excellence of what was called "moral virtue." There was, no +doubt, a body of original thinkers and writers,--better thinkers and +writers, it may be, than we have now,--who were preparing the way for +another advance. Channing had already unfolded his doctrine of man, +of which the central idea is, that human nature is not to be moulded +by religion, but to be developed by it. Walker, Greenwood, Ware, and +their brave associates, were conducting this journal with unsurpassed +ability. But something more was needed. The general character of +preaching was not of a vitalizing sort. It was much like what Carlyle +says of preaching in England at the same period: "The most enthusiastic +Evangelicals do not preach a Gospel, but keep describing how it should +and might be preached; to awaken the sacred fire of faith is not their +endeavor; but at most, to describe how faith shows and acts, and +scientifically to distinguish true faith from false." It is "not the +Love of God which is taught, but the love of the Love of God." + +According to this, God was outside of the world, at a distance from +his children, and obliged to communicate with them in this indirect +way, by breaking through the walls of natural law with an occasional +miracle. There was no door by which he could enter into the sheepfold +to his sheep. Miracles were represented, even by Dr. Channing, as +abnormal, as "violations of the laws of nature;" something, therefore, +unnatural and monstrous, and not to be believed except on the best +evidence. God could not be supposed to break through the walls of this +house of nature, except in order to speak to his children on some +great occasions. That he had done it, in the case of Christianity, +could be proved by the eleven volumes of Dr. Lardner, which showed the +Four Gospels to have been written by the companions of Christ, and not +otherwise. + +The whole of this theory rested, it will be observed, on a sensuous +system of mental philosophy. "All knowledge comes through the senses," +was its foundation. Revelation, like every other form of knowledge, +must come through the senses. A miracle, which appeals to the sight, +touch, hearing, is the only possible proof of a divine act. For, +in the last analysis, all our theology rests on our philosophy. +Theology, being belief, must proceed according to those laws of belief, +whatever they are, which we accept and hold. The man who thinks that +all knowledge comes through the senses must receive his theological +knowledge also that way, and no other. This was the general opinion +thirty or forty years ago; hence this theory of Christianity, which +supposes that God is obliged to break his own laws in order to +communicate it. + +But the result of this belief was harmful. It tended to make +our religion formal, our worship a mere ceremony; it made real +communication with God impossible; it turned prayer into a +self-magnetizing operation; it left us virtually "without God and hope +in the world." Thanks to Him who never leaves himself without a witness +in the human heart, this theory was often nullified in practice by the +irrepressible instincts which it denied, by the spiritual intuitions +which it ridiculed. Even Professor Norton, its chief champion, had +a heart steeped in the sweetest piety. Denying, intellectually, all +intuitions of God, Duty, and Immortality, his beautiful and tender +hymns show the highest spiritual insight. Still it cannot be denied +that this theory tended to dry up the fountains of religious faith +in the human heart, and to leave us in a merely mechanical and +unspiritualized world. + +Now the first voice which came to break this enchantment was, to many, +the voice of Thomas Carlyle. It needed for this end, it always needs, a +man who could come face to face with Truth. Every great idol-breaker, +every man who has delivered the world from the yoke of Forms, has been +one who was able to see the substance of things, who was gifted with +the insight of realities. Forms of worship, forms of belief, at first +the channels of life, through which the Living Spirit flowed into human +hearts, at last became petrified, incrusted, choked. A few drops of the +vital current still ooze slowly through them, and our parched lips, +sucking these few drops, cling all the more closely to the form as it +becomes less and less a vehicle of life. The poorest word, old and +trite, is precious when there is no open vision. We do well continually +to resort to the half-dead form, "till the day dawn, and the day-star +arise in our hearts." + +But at last there comes a man capable of dispensing with the form,--a +man endowed with a high degree of the intuitive faculty,--a born seer, +a prophet, seeing the great realities of the universe with open vision. +The work of such a man is to break up the old formulas and introduce +new light and life. This work was done for the Orthodox thirty years +ago by the writings of Coleridge; for the Unitarians in this vicinity, +by the writings of Thomas Carlyle. + +This was the secret of the enthusiasm felt for Carlyle, in those +days, by so many of the younger men and women. He taught us to look at +realities instead of names, at substance instead of surface,--to see +God in the world, in nature, in life, in providence, in man,--to see +divine truth and beauty and wonder everywhere around. He taught that +the only organ necessary by which to see the divine in all things was +sincerity, or inward truth. And so he enabled us to escape from the +form into the spirit, he helped us to rise to that plane of freedom +from which we could see the divine in the human, the infinite in the +finite, God in man, heaven on earth, immortality beginning here, +eternity pervading time. This made for us a new heaven and a new earth, +a new religion and a new life. Faith was once more possible, a faith +not bought by the renunciation of mature reason or the beauty and glory +of the present hour. + +But all this was taught us by our new prophet, not by the intellect +merely, but by the spirit in which he spoke. He did not seem to be +giving us a new creed, so much as inspiring us with a new life. That +which came from his experience went into ours. Therefore it might +have been difficult, in those days, for any of his disciples to state +what it was that they had learned from him. They had not learned his +doctrine,--they had absorbed it. Hence, very naturally, came the +imitations of Carlyle, which so disgusted the members of the old +school. Hence the absurd Carlylish writing, the feeble imitations by +honest, but weak disciples of the great master. It was a pity, but not +unnatural, and it soon passed by. + +As Carlyle thus did his work, not so much by direct teaching as by an +influence hidden in all that he said, it did not much matter on what +subject he wrote,--the influence was there still. But his articles +on Goethe were the most attractive, because he asserted that in this +patriarch of German literature he had found one who saw in all things +their real essence, one whose majestic and trained intelligence could +interpret to us in all parts of nature and life the inmost quality, the +_terza essenza_, as the Italian Platonists called it, which made each +itself. Goethe was announced as the prophet of Realism. He, it should +seem, had perfectly escaped from words into things. He saw the world, +not through dogmas, traditions, formulas, but as it was in itself. To +him + + "the world's unwithered countenance + Was fresh as on creation's day." + +Consider the immense charm of such hopes as these! No wonder that the +critics complained that the disciples of Carlyle were "insensible +to ridicule." What did they care for the laughter, which seemed to +them, in their enthusiasm, like "the crackling of thorns under the +pot." Ridicule, in fact, never touches the sincere enthusiast. It is +a good and useful weapon against affectation, but it falls, shivered +to pieces, from the magic breastplate of truth. No sincere person, +at work in a cause which he knows to be important, ever minds being +laughed at. + +But besides his admirable discussions of Goethe, Carlyle's "Life of +Schiller" opened the portals of German literature, and made an epoch in +biography and criticism. It was a new thing to read a biography written +with such enthusiasm,--to find a critic who could really write with +reverence and tender love of the poet whom he criticised. Instead of +taking his seat on the judicial bench, and calling his author up before +him to be judged as a culprit, Carlyle walks with Schiller through the +circles of his poems and plays, as Dante goes with Virgil through the +Inferno and Paradiso. He accepts the great poet as his teacher and +master,[26] a thing unknown before in all criticism. It was supposed +that a biographer would become a mere Boswell if he looked up to his +hero, instead of looking down on him. It was not understood that it was +that "angel of the world," Reverence, which had exalted even a poor, +mean, vain fool, like Boswell, and enabled him to write one of the best +books ever written. It was not his reverence for Johnson which made +Boswell a fool,--his reverence for Johnson made him, a fool, capable of +writing one of the best books of modern times. + +This capacity of reverence in Carlyle--this power of perceiving a +divine, infinite quality in human souls--tinges all his biographical +writing with a deep religious tone. He wrote of Goethe, Schiller, +Richter, Burns, Novalis, even Voltaire, with reverence. He could +see their defects easily enough, he could playfully expose their +weaknesses; but beneath all was the sacred undertone of reverence for +the divine element in each,--for that which God had made and meant them +to be, and which they had realized more or less imperfectly in the +struggle of life. The difference between the reverence of a Carlyle +and that of a Boswell is, that one is blind and the other intelligent. +The one worships his hero down to his shoes and stockings, the other +distinguishes the divine idea from its weak embodiment. + +Two articles from this happy period--that on the "Signs of the Times" +and that called "Characteristics"--indicate some of Carlyle's leading +ideas concerning right thinking and right living. In the first, he +declares the present to be an age of mechanism,--not heroic, devout, +or philosophic. All things are done by machinery. "Men have no faith +in individual endeavor or natural force." "Metaphysics has become +material." Government is a machine. All this he thinks evil. The +living force is in the individual soul,--not mechanic, but dynamic. +Religion is a calculation of expediency, not an impulse of worship; no +thousand-voiced psalm from the heart of man to his invisible Father, +the Fountain of all goodness, beauty, and truth, but a contrivance by +which a small quantum of earthly enjoyment may be exchanged for a much +larger quantum of celestial enjoyment. "Virtue is pleasure, is profit." +"In all senses we worship and follow after power, which may be called a +physical pursuit." (Ah, Carlyle of the Present! does not that wand of +thine old true self touch thee?) "No man now loves truth, as truth must +be loved, with an infinite love; but only with a finite love, and, as +it were, _par amours_." + +In the other article, "Characteristics," printed two years later, in +1831, he unfolds the doctrine of "Unconsciousness" as the sign of +health in soul as well as body. He finds society sick everywhere; he +finds its religion, literature, science, all diseased, yet he ends +the article, as the other was ended, in hope of a change to something +better. + +These two articles may be considered as an introduction to his next +great work, "Sartor Resartus," or the "Clothes-Philosophy." Here, in a +vein of irony and genial humor, he unfolds his doctrine of substance +and form. The object of all thought and all experience is to look +through the clothes to the living beneath them. According to his book, +all human institutions are the clothing of society; language is the +garment of thought, the heavens and earth the time-vesture of the +Eternal. So, too, are religious creeds and ceremonies the clothing +of religion; so are all symbols the vesture of some idea; so are +the crown and sceptre the vesture of government. This book is the +autobiography of a seeker for truth. In it he is led from the shows of +things to their innermost substance, and as in all his other writings, +he teaches here also that sincerity, truthfulness, is the organ by +which we are led to the solid rock of reality, which underlies all +shows and shams. + +II. We now come to treat of Carlyle in his present aspect,--a much +less agreeable task. We leave Carlyle the generous and gentle, for +Carlyle the hard cynic. We leave him, the friend of man, lover of +his race, for another Carlyle, advocate of negro slavery, worshiper +of mere force, sneering at philanthropy, and admiring only tyrants, +despots, and slaveholders. The change, and the steps which led to it, +chronologically and logically, it is our business to scrutinize,--not a +grateful occupation indeed, but possibly instructive and useful. + +Thomas Carlyle, after spending his previous life in Scotland, and from +1827 to 1834 in his solitude at Craigenputtoch, removed to London +in the latter year, when thirty-eight years old. Since then he has +permanently resided in London, in a house situated on one of the quiet +streets running at right angles with the Thames. He came to London +almost an unknown man; he has there become a great name and power +in literature. He has had for friends such men as John Stuart Mill, +Sterling, Maurice, Leigh Hunt, Browning, Thackeray, and Emerson. His +"French Revolution" was published in 1837; "Sartor Resartus" (published +in Frazer in 1833, and in Boston in a volume in 1836) was put forth +collectively in 1838; and in the same year his "Miscellanies" (also +collected and issued in Boston in 1838) were published in London, in +four volumes. "Chartism" was issued in 1839. He gave four courses +of Lectures in Willis's rooms "to a select but crowded audience," +in 1837, 1838, 1839, and 1840. Only the last of these--"Heroes and +Hero-Worship"--was published. "Past and Present" followed in 1843, +"Oliver Cromwell" in 1845. In 1850 he printed "Latter-Day Pamphlets," +and subsequently his "Life of Sterling" (1851), and the four volumes, +now issued, of "Frederick the Great." + +The first evidence of an altered tendency is perhaps to be traced in +the "French Revolution." It is a noble and glorious book; but, as one +of his friendly critics has said, "its philosophy is contemptuous and +mocking, and it depicts the varied and gigantic characters which stalk +across the scene, not so much as responsible and living mortals, as +the mere mechanical implements of some tremendous and irresistible +destiny." In "Heroes and Hero-Worship" the habit has grown of revering +mere will, rather than calm intellectual and moral power. The same +thing is shown in "Past and Present," in "Cromwell," and in "Latter-Day +Pamphlets," which the critic quoted above says is "only remarkable as +a violent imitation of himself, and not of his better self." For the +works of this later period, indeed, the best motto would be that verse +from Daniel: "He shall exalt himself, and magnify himself, and speak +marvelous things; neither shall he regard the God of his fathers, but +in his stead shall he honor the God of Forces, a god whom his fathers +knew not." + +Probably this apostasy from his better faith had begun, before this, +to show itself in conversation. At least Margaret Fuller, in a letter +dated 1846, finds herself in his presence admiring his brilliancy, but +"disclaiming and rejecting almost everything he said." "For a couple of +hours," says she, "he was talking about poetry, and the whole harangue +was one eloquent proclamation of the defects in his own mind." "All +Carlyle's talk, another evening," says she, "was a defence of mere +force,--success the test of right; if people would not behave well, put +collars round their necks; find a hero, and let them be his slaves." +"Mazzini was there, and, after some vain attempts to remonstrate, +became very sad. Mrs. Carlyle said to me, 'These are but opinions to +Carlyle; but to Mazzini, who has given his all, and helped bring his +friends to the scaffold, in pursuit of such subjects, it is a matter of +life and death.'" + +As this mood of Mr. Carlyle comes out so strongly in the "Latter-Day +Pamphlets," it is perhaps best to dwell on them at greater leisure. + +The first is "The Present Time." In this he describes Democracy as +inevitable, but as utterly evil; calls for a government; finds most +European governments, that of England included, to be shams and +falsities,--no-government, or drifting, to be a yet greater evil. The +object, he states, is to find the noblest and best men to govern. +Democracy fails to do this; for universal balloting is not adequate to +the task. Democracy answered in the old republics, when the mass were +slaves, but will not answer now. The United States are no proof of its +success, for (1st) anarchy is avoided merely by the quantity of cheap +land, and (2d) the United States have produced no spiritual results, +but only material. Democracy in America is no-government, and "its only +feat is to have produced eighteen millions of the greatest _bores_ ever +seen in the world." Mr. Carlyle's plan, therefore, is to find, somehow, +the _best man_ for a ruler, to make him a despot, to make the mass of +the English and Irish slaves, to beat them if they will not work, to +shoot them if they still refuse. The only method of finding this best +man, which he suggests, is to _call for him_. Accordingly, Mr. Thomas +Carlyle _calls_, saying, "Best man, come forward, and govern." + +The sum, therefore, of his recipe for the diseases of the times is +SLAVERY. + +The second pamphlet is called "Model Prisons," and the main object of +this is to ridicule all attempts at helping men by philanthropy or +humanity. The talk of "Fraternity" is nonsense, and must be drummed +out of the world. Beginning with model prisons, he finds them much +too good for the "scoundrels" who are shut up there. He would have +them whipped and hung (seventy thousand in a year, we suppose, as in +bluff King Harry's time, with no great benefit therefrom). "Revenge," +he says, "is a right feeling against bad men,--only the excess of it +wrong." The proper thing to say to a bad man is, "Caitiff, I hate +thee." "A collar round the neck, and a cart-whip over the back," is +what he thinks would be more just to criminals than a model prison. The +whole effort of humanity should be to help the industrious and virtuous +poor; the criminals should be swept out of the way, whipt, enslaved, +or hung. As for human brotherhood, he does not admit brotherhood +with "scoundrels." Particularly disgusting to him is it to hear this +philanthropy to bad men called Christianity. Christianity, he thinks, +does not tell us to love the bad, but to hate them as God hates them. +According, probably, to his private expurgated version of the Gospel, +"that ye may be the children of your Father in heaven, whose sun rises +only on the good, and whose rain falls only on the just." + +"Downing Street" and "New Downing Street" are fiery tirades against +the governing classes in England. Mr. Carlyle says (according to his +inevitable refrain), that England does not want a reformed Parliament, +a body of talkers, but a reformed Downing Street, a body of workers. +He describes the utter imbecility of the English government, and calls +loudly for some able man to take its place. Two passages are worth +quoting; the first as to England's aspect in her foreign relations, +which is quite as true for 1864 as for 1854. + +"How it stands with the Foreign Office, again, one still less knows. +Seizures of Sapienza, and the like sudden appearances of Britain in +the character of Hercules-Harlequin, waving, with big bully-voice, +her sword of sharpness over field-mice, and in the air making horrid +circles (horrid Catherine-wheels and death-disks of metallic terror +from said huge sword) to see how they will like it. Hercules-Harlequin, +the Attorney Triumphant, the World's Busybody!" + +Or see the following description of the sort of rulers who prevail in +England, no less than in America:-- + +"If our government is to be a No-Government, what is the matter who +administers it? Fling an orange-skin into St. James Street, let the man +it hits be your man. He, if you bend him a little to it, and tie the +due official bladders to his ankles, will do as well as another this +sublime problem of balancing himself upon the vortexes, with the long +loaded pole in his hand, and will, with straddling, painful gestures, +float hither and thither, walking the waters in that singular manner +for a little while, till he also capsize, and be left floating feet +uppermost,--after which you choose another." + +Concerning which we may say, that if this is the result of monarchy and +aristocracy in England, we can stick a little longer to our democracy +in America. Mr. Carlyle says that the object of all these methods is to +find the ablest man for a ruler. He thinks our republican method very +insufficient and absurd,--much preferring the English system,--and then +tells us that this is the outcome of the latter; that you might as well +select your ruler by throwing an orange-skin into the street as by the +method followed in England. + +Despotism, tempered by assassination, seems to be Carlyle's notion of a +good government. + +The pamphlet "Stump-Orator" is simply a bitter denunciation of all +talking, speech-making, and writing, as the curse of the time, and ends +with the proposition to cut out the tongues of one whole generation, as +an act of mercy to them and a blessing to the human race. + +Thus this collection of "Latter-Day Pamphlets" consists of the +bitterest cynicism. Carlyle sits in it, as in a tub, snarling at +freedom, yelping at philanthropy, growling at the English government, +snapping at all men who speak or write, and ending with one long howl +over the universal falsity and hollowness of mankind in general. + +After which he proceeds to his final apotheosis of despotism pure and +simple, in this "Life of Frederick the Great." Of this it is not +necessary to say more than that Frederick, being an absolute despot, +but a very able one, having plunged Europe into war in order to steal +Silesia, is everywhere admired, justified, or excused by Carlyle, who +reserves his rebukes and contempt for those who find fault with all +this. + +That, with these opinions, Carlyle should have taken sides with the +slaveholders' conspiracy against the Union is not surprising. His +sympathies were with them; first, as slaveholders, secondly, as +aristocrats. He hates us because we are democrats, and he loves them +because they are despots and tyrants. Long before the outbreak of the +rebellion, he had ridiculed emancipation, and denounced as folly and +evil the noblest deed of England,--the emancipation of her West India +slaves. In scornful, bitter satire, he denounced England for keeping +the fast which God had chosen, in undoing the heavy burdens, letting +the oppressed go free, and breaking every yoke. He ridiculed the black +man, and described the poor patient African as "Quashee, steeped to +the eyes in pumpkin." In the hateful service of oppression he had +already done his best to uphold slavery and discourage freedom. And +while he fully believed in enslaving the laboring population, black or +white, and driving it to work by the cart-whip, he as fully abhorred +republicanism everywhere, and most of all in the United States. +He had exhausted the resources of language in vilifying American +institutions. It was a matter of course, therefore, that at the +outbreak of this civil war all his sympathies should be with those who +whip women and sell babies. + +How is it that this great change should have taken place? Men +change,--but not often in this way. The ardent reformer often hardens +into the stiff conservative. The radical in religion is very likely to +join the Catholic Church. If a Catholic changes his religion, he goes +over to atheism. To swing from one extreme to another, is a common +experience. But it is a new thing to see calmness in youth, violence in +age,--to find the young man wise and all-sided, the old man bigoted and +narrow. + +We think the explanation to be this. + +Thomas Carlyle from the beginning has not shown the least appreciation +of the essential thing in Christianity. Brought up in Scotland, +inheriting from Calvinism a sense of truth, a love of justice, and a +reverence for the Jewish Bible, he has never passed out of Judaism +into Christianity. To him, Oliver Cromwell is the best type of true +religion; inflexible justice the best attribute of God or man. He is +a worshiper of Jehovah, not of the God and Father of the Lord Jesus +Christ. He sees in God truth and justice; he does not see in him +love. He is himself a prophet after the type of Elijah and John the +Baptist. He is the voice crying in the wilderness; and we may say of +him, therefore, as was said of his prototype, "He was a burning and a +shining light, and ye were willing, for a season, to rejoice in his +light,"--but not always,--not now. + +Carlyle does not, indeed, claim to be a Jew, or to reject Christ. On +the contrary, he speaks of him with very sincere respect. He seems, +however, to know nothing of him but what he has read in Goethe about +the "worship of sorrow." The Gospel appears to him to be, essentially, +a worship of sorrow. That Christ "came to save sinners,"--of that +Carlyle has not the faintest idea. To him the notion of "saving +sinners" is only "rose-water philanthropy." He does not wish them +saved, he wishes them damned,--swept into hell as soon as convenient. + +But, as everything which is real has two sides, that of _truth_ and +that of _love_,--it usually happens that he who only sees _one_ side at +last ceases even to see that. All goodness, to Carlyle, is truth,--in +man it is sincerity, or love of reality, sight of the actual facts,--in +God it is justice, divine adherence to law, infinite guidance of the +world and of every human soul according to a strict and inevitable +rule of righteousness. At first this seems to be a providence,--and +Carlyle has everywhere, in the earlier epoch, shown full confidence in +Providence. But believe only in justice and truth,--omit the doctrine +of forgiveness, redemption, salvation,--and faith in Providence +becomes sooner or later a despairing fatalism. The dark problem of evil +remains insoluble without the doctrine of redemption. + +So it was that Carlyle, seeing at first the chief duty of man to be +the worship of reality, the love of truth, next made that virtue to +consist in sincerity, or being in earnest. Truth was being true to +one's self. In this lay the essence of heroism. So that Burns, being +sincere and earnest, was a hero,--Odin was a hero,--Mohammed was a +hero,--Cromwell was a hero,--Mirabeau and Danton were heroes,--and +Frederick the Great was a hero. That which was first the love of truth, +and caused him to reverence the calm intellectual force of Schiller and +Goethe, soon became earnestness and sincerity, and then became power. +For the proof of earnestness is power. So from power, by eliminating +all love, all tenderness, as being only rose-water philanthropy, he at +last became a worshiper of mere will, of force in its grossest form. +So he illustrates those lines of Shakespeare in which this process is +so well described. In "Troilus and Cressida" Ulysses is insisting on +the importance of keeping everything in its place, and giving to the +best things and persons their due priority. Otherwise, mere force will +govern all things. + + "Strength would be lord of imbecility,"-- + +as Carlyle indeed openly declares that it ought to be,-- + + "And the rude son should strike his father dead," + +which Carlyle does not quite approve of in the case of Dr. Francia. But +why not, if he maintains that strength is the measure of justice? + + "Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong + (Between whose endless jar justice resides) + Should lose their names and so should justice, too. + _Then everything includes itself in power, + Power into will, will into appetite; + And appetite, an universal wolf, + So doubly seconded with will and power, + Must make perforce an universal prey, + And, last, eat up himself._" + +Just so, in the progress of Carlyle's literary career, first, force +became right,--then, everything included itself in power,--next, power +was lost in will, and will in mere caprice or appetite. From his +admiration for Goethe, as the type of intellectual power, he passed to +the praise of Cromwell as the exponent of will, and then to that of +Frederick, whose appetite for plunder and territory was seconded by +an iron will and the highest power of intellect; but whose ambition +devoured himself, his country, and its prosperity, in the mad pursuit +of victory and conquest. + +The explanation, therefore, of our author's lapse, is simply this, that +he worshiped truth divorced from love, and so ceased to worship truth, +and fell into the idolatry of mere will. Truth without love is not +truth, but hard, willful opinion, just as love without truth is not +love, but weak good-nature and soft concession. + +Carlyle has no idea of that sublime feature of Christianity, which +shows to us God caring more for the one sinner who repents than the +ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance. To him one just +person deserves more care than ninety-nine sinners. Yet it is strange +that he did not learn from his master, Goethe, this essential trait +of the Gospel. For Goethe, in a work translated by Carlyle himself, +distinguishes between the three religions thus. The ethnic or Gentile +religions, he says, reverence _what is above us_,--the religion of the +philosopher reverences _what is on our own level_,--but Christianity +reverences _what is beneath us_. "This is the last step," says Goethe, +"which mankind were destined to attain,--to recognize humility +and poverty, mockery and despite, disgrace and wretchedness, as +divine,--nay, _even on sin and crime to look not as hindrances, but to +honor and love them as furtherances of what is holy_." + +On sin and crime, as we have seen, Carlyle looks with no such +tenderness. But if he does not care for the words of Christ, teaching +us that we must forgive if we hope to be forgiven, if he does not care +for the words of his master, Goethe, he might at least remember his own +exposition of this doctrine in an early work, where he shows that the +poor left to perish by disease infect a whole community, and declares +that the safety of all is involved in the safety of the humblest. + +In 1840, when he wrote "Chartism," Carlyle seems to have known better +than he did in 1855, when he wrote these "Latter-Day Pamphlets." _Then_ +he said:-- + +"To believe practically that the poor and luckless are here only as a +nuisance to be abraded and abated, and in some permissible manner made +away, and swept out of sight, is not an amiable faith." + +Of Ireland, too, he said:-- + +"We English pay, even now, the bitter smart of long centuries of +injustice to Ireland." "It is the feeling of _injustice_ that is +insupportable to all men. The brutalest black African feels it, and +cannot bear that he should be used unjustly. No man can bear it, or +ought to bear it." + +This seems like the "rose-water philanthropy" which he subsequently so +much disliked. In this book also he speaks of a "seven years' Silesian +robber-war,"--we trust not intending to call his beloved Frederick a +robber! And again he proposes, as one of the best things to be done +in England, to have all the people taught by government to read and +write,--the same thing which this American democracy, in which he could +see not one good thing, has so long been doing. That was the plan by +which England was to be saved,--a plan first suggested in England in +1840,--adopted and acted on in America for two hundred years. + +But just as love separated from truth becomes cruelty, so _truth_ +by itself--truth _not_ tempered and fulfilled by love--runs sooner +or later into falsehood. _Truth_, after a while, becomes dogmatism, +overbearing assertion, willful refusal to see and hear other than one's +own belief; that is to say, it becomes falsehood. Such has been the +case with our author. On all the subjects to which he has committed +himself he closes his eyes, and refuses to see the other side. Like his +own symbol, the mighty Bull, he makes his charge _with his eyes shut_. + +Determined, for example, to rehabilitate such men as Mirabeau, +Cromwell, Frederick, and Frederick's father, he does thorough work, and +defends or excuses all their enormities, palliating whenever he cannot +justify. + +What can we call this which he says[27] concerning the execution of +Lieutenant Katte, by order of old King Friedrich Wilhelm? Tired of +the tyranny of his father, tired of being kicked and caned, the young +prince tried to escape. He was caught and held as a deserter from the +army, and his father tried to run him through the body. Lieutenant +Katte, who had aided him in getting away, having been kicked and caned, +was sent to a court-martial to be tried. The court-martial found him +guilty not of deserting, but of intending to desert, and sentenced +him to two years' imprisonment. Whereupon the king went into a rage, +declared that Katte had committed high treason, and ordered him to be +executed. Whereupon Carlyle thus writes:-- + +"'Never was such a transaction before or since in modern history,' +cries the angry reader; 'cruel, like the grinding of human hearts under +millstones; like----' Or, indeed, like the doings of the gods, which +are cruel, but not that alone." + +In other words, Carlyle cannot make up his mind frankly to condemn +this atrocious murder, and call it by its right name. He must needs +try to sophisticate us by talking about "the doings of the gods." +Because Divine Providence takes men out of the world in various ways, +it is therefore allowable to a king, provided he be a hero grim enough +and "earnest" enough, to kick men, cane them, and run them through +the body when he pleases; and, after having sent a man to be tried by +court-martial, if the court acquits him, to order him to be executed by +his own despotic will. A truth-telling Carlyle ought to have said, "I +admit this is murder; but I like the old fellow, and so I will call it +right." A Carlyle grown sophistical mumbles something about its being +like "the doings of the gods," and leaves off with that small attempt +at humbug. Be brave, my men, and defend my Lord Jeffreys next for +bullying juries into hanging prisoners. Was not Jeffreys "grim" too? +In fact, are not most murderers "grim"? + +We have had occasion formerly, in this journal, to examine the writings +of another very positive and clear-headed thinker,--Mr. Henry James. +Mr. James is, in his philosophy, the very antithesis of Carlyle. +With equal fervor of thought, with a like vehemence of style, with a +somewhat similar contempt for his opponents, Mr. James takes exactly +the opposite view of religion and duty. As Carlyle preaches the law, +and the law alone, maintaining justice as the sole Divine attribute, so +Mr. James preaches the Gospel only, denying totally that to the Divine +Mind any distinction exists between saint and sinner, unless that the +sinner is somewhat more of a favorite than the saint. We did not, do +not, agree with Mr. James in his anti-nomianism; as between him and +Carlyle, we think his doctrine far the truer and nobler. He stands on +a higher plane, and sees much the farther. A course of reading in Mr. +James's books might, we think, help our English cynic not a little. + +God is the perfect harmony of justice and love. His justice is warmed +through and through with love, his love is sanctified and made strong +by justice. And so, in Christ, perfect justice was fulfilled in perfect +love. But in him first was fully revealed, in this world, the Divine +fatherly tenderness to the lost, to the sinner, to those lowest down +and farthest away. In him was taught that our own redemption from +evil does not lie in despising and hating men worse than ourselves, +but in saving them. The hard Pharisaic justice of Carlyle may call +this "rose-water philanthropy," but till he accepts it from his heart, +and repents of his contempt for his fallen fellowmen, till he learns +to love "scoundrels," there is no hope for him. He lived once in the +heaven of reverence, faith, and love; he has gone from it into the hell +of Pharisaic scorn and contempt. Till he comes back out of that, there +is no hope for him. + +But such a noble nature cannot be thus lost. He will one day, let us +trust, worship the divine love which he now abhors. Cromwell asked, on +his death-bed, "if those once in a state of grace could fall," and, +being assured not, said, "I am safe then, for I am sure I was once in a +state of grace." There is a truth in this doctrine of the perseverance +of saints. Some truths once fully seen, even though afterward rejected +by the mind and will, stick like a barbed arrow in the conscience, +tormenting the soul till they are again accepted and obeyed. Such a +truth Carlyle once saw, in the great doctrine of reverence for the +fallen and the sinful. He will see it again, if not in this world, then +in some other world. + +The first Carlyle was an enthusiast, the last Carlyle is a cynic. From +enthusiasm to cynicism, from the spirit of reverence to the spirit +of contempt, the way seems long, but the condition of arriving is +simple. Discard LOVE, and the whole road is passed over. Divorce love +from truth, and truth ceases to be open and receptive,--ceases to be a +positive function, turns into acrid criticism, bitter disdain, cruel +and hollow laughter, empty of all inward peace. Such is the road which +Carlyle has passed over, from his earnest, hopeful youth to his bitter +old age. + +Carlyle fulfilled for many, during these years, the noble work of a +mediator. By reverence and love he saw what was divine in nature, in +man, and in life. By the profound sincerity of his heart, his worship +of reality, his hatred of falsehood, he escaped from the commonplaces +of literature to a better land of insight and knowledge. So he was +enabled to lead many others out of their entanglements, into his own +luminous insight. It was a great and blessed work. Would that it had +been sufficient for him! + + + + +BUCKLE AND HIS THEORY OF AVERAGES[28] + + +We welcomed kindly the first installment of Mr. Buckle's work,[29] +giving a cursory account of it, and hinting, rather than urging, +the objections which readily suggested themselves against theories +concerning Man, History, Civilization, and Human Progress. But now +it seems a proper time to discuss with a little more deliberation +the themes opened before us by this intrepid writer,--this latest +champion of that theory of the mind which in the last century was +called Materialism and Necessity, and which in the present has been +re-baptized as Positivism. + +The doctrines of which Mr. Buckle is the ardent advocate seem to us, +the more thoroughly we consider them, to be essentially theoretical, +superficial, and narrow. They are destitute of any broad basis of +reality. In their application by Mr. Buckle, they fail to solve +the historic problems upon which he tries their power. With a show +of science, they are unscientific, being a mere collection of +unverified hypotheses. And if Mr. Buckle should succeed in introducing +his principles and methods into the study of history, it would +be equivalent to putting backward for about a century this whole +department of thought. + +Yet, while we state this as our opinion, and one which we shall +presently endeavor to substantiate by ample proof, we do not deny to +Mr. Buckle's volumes the interest arising from vigorous and independent +thinking, faithful study of details, and a strong, believing purpose. +They are interesting and valuable contributions to our literature. +But this is not on account of their purpose, but in spite of it; +notwithstanding their doctrines, not because of them. The interest +of these books, as of all good history, derives itself from their +picturesque reproduction of life. Whatever of value belongs to Mr. +Buckle's work is the same as that of the writings of Macaulay, Motley, +and Carlyle. Whoever has the power of plunging like a diver into the +spirit of another period, sympathizing with its tone, imbuing himself +with its instincts, sharing its loves and hates, its faith and its +skepticism, will write its history so as to interest us. For whoever +will really show to us the breathing essence of any age, any state of +society, or any course of human events, cannot fail of exciting that +element of the soul which causes man everywhere to rejoice in meeting +with man. He who will write the history of Arabians, Kelts, or Chinese, +of the Middle Ages, the Norman Sea-kings, or the Roman Plebs, so +that we can see ourselves beneath these diverse surroundings of race, +country, and period, and see that these also are really MEN,--this +writer instantly awakens our interest, whether he call himself poet, +novelist, or historian. In all cases, the secret of success is to write +so as to enable the reader to identify himself with the characters +of another age. Great authors enable us to look at actions, not +from without, but from within. When we read the historic plays of +Shakespeare, or the historic novels of Scott, we are charmed by finding +that kings and queens are, after all, our poor human fellow-creatures, +sharing all our old, familiar struggles, pains, and joys. When we read +that great historic masterpiece, the "French Revolution" of Carlyle, +the magic touch of the artist introduces us into the heart of every +character in the motley, shifting scene. We are the poor king escaping +to Varennes under the dewy night and solemn stars. We are tumultuous +Mirabeau, with his demonic but generous soul. We are devoted Charlotte +Corday; we are the Gironde; we the poor prisoners of Terror, waiting in +our prison for the slow morning to bring the inevitable doom. This is +the one indispensable faculty for the historian; and this faculty Mr. +Buckle so far possesses as to make his page a living one. It is true +that his sympathy is intellectual rather than imaginative. It is not of +the high order of Shakespeare, nor even of that of Carlyle. But, so +far as it goes, it is a true faculty, and makes a true historian. + +Yet we cannot but notice how the effectual working of this historic +organ is interfered with by the dogmatic purpose of Mr. Buckle; and, +on the other hand, how his theoretic aim is disturbed by the interest +of his narrative. His history is always meant to be an argument. His +narrations of events are never for their own sake, but always to +prove some thesis. There is, therefore, no consecutive narrative, no +progress of events, no sustained interest. These volumes are episodes, +put together we cannot well say how, or why. In the seventh chapter +of the first volume we have a graphic description of the Court life +in England in the days of Charles II., James II., William, and the +Georges, in connection with the condition of the Church and clergy. +From this we are taken, in the next chapter, to France, and to similar +relations between Henry IV., Louis XIII., Richelieu, and the French +Catholics and Protestants. We then are brought back to England, to +consider the protective system there; and once more we return to +France, to investigate its operation in that country. Afterward we have +an essay on "The State of Historical Literature in France from the +End of the Sixteenth to the End of the Eighteenth Century," followed +by another essay on the "Proximate Causes of the French Revolution." +Many very well finished biographic portraits are given us in these +chapters. There are excellent sketches of Burke, Voltaire, Richelieu, +Bossuet, Montesquieu, Rousseau, Bichat, in the first volume; and of +Adam Smith, Reid, Black, Leslie, Hutton, Cullen, Hunter, in the second. +These numerous biographic sketches, which are often accompanied with +good literary notices of the writings of these authors, are very ably +written; but it is curious to remember, while reading them, that Mr. +Buckle thinks that, as history advances, it has less and less to do +with biography. + +There is an incurable defect in the method of this work. On the one +hand, the dogmatic purpose is constantly breaking into the interest +of the narration; on the other, the interest of the narration is +continually enticing the writer from his argument into endless episodes +and details of biography. The argument is deprived of its force by the +story; the story is interrupted continually on account of the argument. +Mr. Buckle has mistaken the philosophy of history for history itself. +A history of civilization is not a piece of metaphysical argument, but +a consecutive account of the social progress either of an age or of a +nation. This irreconcilable conflict of purpose, while it leaves to the +parts of the work their value, destroys its worth as a whole. + +Mr. Buckle might probably inquire whether we would eliminate wholly +from history all philosophic aim, all teleologic purpose. He objects, +and very properly, to degrading history into mere annals, without any +instructive purpose. We agree with him. We do not admire the style +of history which feels neither passion nor sympathy, which narrates +crimes without indignation, and which has no aim in its narration +except to entertain a passing hour. But it is one thing deliberately +to announce a thesis and bring detached passages of history to prove +it, and another to write a history which, by its incidents, spirit, +and characters shall convey impulse and instruction. The historian +may dwell upon the events which illustrate his convictions, and may +develop the argument during the progress of his moving panorama; but +the history itself, as it moves, should impress the lesson. The history +of Mr. Motley, for example, illustrates and impresses the evils of +bigotry, superstition, and persecution on the life of nations, quite as +powerfully as does that of Mr. Buckle; but Mr. Motley never suspends +his narrative in order to prove to us logically that persecution is an +evil. + +Mr. Buckle, in his style of writing, belongs to a modern class of +authors whom we may call the bullying school. It is true that he is far +less extravagant than some of them, and indeed is not deeply tinged +with their peculiar manner. The first great master of this class of +writers is Thomas Carlyle; but their peculiarity has been carried to +its greatest extent by Ruskin. Its characteristic feature is treating +with supreme contempt, as though they were hopeless imbeciles, all who +venture to question the _dicta_ of the writer. This superb arrogance +makes these writers rather popular with the English, who, as a nation, +like equally well to bully and to be bullied. + +Buckle professes to have at last found the only true key to history, +and to have discovered some of its important laws, especially those +which regard the progress of civilization. + +I. _His View of Freedom._--Mr. Buckle's fundamental position is, that +the actions of men are governed by fixed laws, and that, when these +laws are discovered, history will become a science, like geometry, +geology, or astronomy. The chief obstacle hitherto to its becoming a +science has been the belief that the actions of men were determined, +not by fixed laws, but by free will (which he considers equivalent +to chance), or by supernatural interference or providence (which he +regards as equivalent to fate). "We shall thus be led," he says (Vol. +I. p. 6, Am. ed.), "to one vast question, which, indeed, lies at the +root of the whole subject, and is simply this: Are the actions of men, +and therefore of societies, governed by fixed laws, or are they the +result either of chance or of supernatural interference?" Identifying +freedom with chance, Mr. Buckle denies that there is such a thing, and +maintains that every human action is determined by some antecedent, +inward or outward, and that not one is determined by the free choice +of the man himself. His principal argument against free will is the law +of averages, which we will therefore proceed to consider in its bearing +on this point. + +Statistics, carefully collected during many years and within different +countries, show a regularity of return in certain vices and crimes, +which indicates the presence of law. Thus, about the same number of +murders are committed every year in certain countries and large cities, +and even the instruments by which they are committed are employed in +the same proportion. Suicide also follows some regular law. "In a +given state of society, a certain number of persons must put an end to +their own life." In London, about two hundred and forty persons kill +themselves every year,--in years of panic and disaster a few more, in +prosperous years not quite so many. Other actions of men are determined +in the same way,--not by personal volition, but by some controlling +circumstance. "It is now known that the number of marriages in England +bears a fixed and definite relation to the price of corn." "Aberrations +of memory are marked by this general character of necessary and +invariable order." The same average number of persons forget every +year to direct the letters dropped into the post-offices of London and +Paris. Facts of this kind "force us to the conclusion," says Buckle, +"that the offenses of men are the result, not so much of the vices of +the individual offender, as of the state of society into which he is +thrown." + +The argument then is: If man's moral actions are under law, they are +not free, for freedom is the absence of law. The argument of Mr. Buckle +is conclusive, provided freedom does necessarily imply the absence of +law. But such, we think, is not the fact. + +The actions of man do not proceed solely from the impact of external +circumstances; for then he would be no better than a ball struck with a +bat. Nor do they proceed solely from the impulses of his animal nature; +for then he would be only a superior kind of machine, moved by springs +and wheels. But in addition to external and internal impulse there is +also in man the power of personal effort, activity, will,--to which we +give the name of Free Choice, or Freedom. This modifies and determines +a part of his actions,--while a second part come from the influence +of circumstance, and a third from organic instincts and habitual +tendencies. + +Now, it is quite certain that no man has freedom of will enough to +cause _his whole_ nexus of activity to proceed from it. For if a man +could cause _all_ his actions to proceed by a mere choice or effort, +he could turn himself at will into another man. In other words, there +could be no such thing as permanent moral character. No one could be +described; for while we were describing him, he might choose to be +different, and so would become somebody else. It is evident, therefore, +that some part of every man's life must lie outside of the domain of +freedom. + +In what, then, does the essence of freedom consist? If it be not the +freedom to do whatever we choose, what is it? Plainly, if we analyze +our own experience, we shall find that it is simply what its scholastic +name implies, freedom of choice, or _liber arbitrio_. It is not, in the +last analysis, freedom to act, but it is freedom to choose. + +But freedom to choose what? Can we choose anything? Certainly not. Our +freedom of choice is limited by our knowledge. We cannot choose that +which we do not know. We must choose something within the range of our +experience. And our freedom of choice consists in the alternative of +making this choice or omitting to make it,--exerting ourselves or not +exerting ourselves. Consciousness testifies universally to this extent +of freedom. We know by our consciousness that we can exert ourselves or +not exert ourselves at any moment,--exert ourselves to act or not exert +ourselves to act, to speak or not to speak. This power of making or not +making an effort is freedom in its simplest and lowest form. + +In this lowest form, it is apparent that human freedom is inadequate to +give any permanent character to human actions. They will be directed by +the laws of organization and circumstance. Freedom in this sense may +be compared to the power which a man has of rowing a boat in the midst +of a fog. He may exert himself to row, he may row at any moment forward +or backward, to the right or to the left. He has this freedom,--but it +does not enable him to go in any special direction. Not being able to +direct his boat to any fixed aim, it is certain that it will be drifted +by the currents or blown by the winds. Freedom in this form is only +willfulness, because devoid of an inward law. + +But let the will direct itself by a fixed law, and it at once becomes +true freedom, and begins to impress itself upon actions, modifying the +results of organization and circumstance. Not even in this case can +it destroy those results; it only modifies them. It enters as a third +factor with those other two to produce the product. The total character +of a man's actions will be represented by a formula, thus: John's +Organization x John's Circumstances x John's Freedom = John's Character. + +Apply this to the state of society where the law of averages has been +discovered. In such a society there are always to be found three +classes of persons. In the first class, freedom is either dormant or +is mere willfulness. The law of mind is subject therefore in these to +the law of the members. The will is an enslaved will, and its influence +on action is a nullity, not needing to be taken into the account. From +this class come the largest proportion of the crimes and vices, regular +in number because resulting from constant conditions of society. Of +these persons we can predict with certainty that, under certain strong +temptations to evil, they will inevitably yield. + +But in another class of persons the will has learned to direct itself +by a moral law toward a fixed aim. The man in the boat is now steering +by a compass, and ceases to be the sport of current and gale. The will +reacts upon organization, and directs circumstance. The man has learned +how to master his own nature, and how to arrange external conditions. +We can predict with certainty that under no possible influences will +this class yield to some forms of evil. + +There is also in each community a third class, who are struggling, but +not emancipated. They are partly free, but not wholly so. From this +class come the slight variations of the average, now a little better, +now a little worse. + +Applying this view of the freedom of the will to history, we see that +the problem is far more complicated than Mr. Buckle admits. Man's +freedom, with him, is an element not to be taken into consideration, +because it does not exist. But the truth is, that human freedom is +not only a factor, but a variable factor, the value of which changes +with every variety of human condition. In the savage condition it +obeys organization and circumstances, and has little effect on social +condition. But as civilization advances, the power of freedom to +react on organization and circumstance increases, varying however +again, according to the force and inspiration of the ideas by which it +is guided. And of all these ideas, precisely those which Mr. Buckle +underrates, namely, moral and religious ideas, are those which most +completely emancipate the will from circumstances, and vitalize it with +an all-conquering force. + +To see this, take two extreme cases,--that of an African Hottentot, and +that of Joan of Arc. Free will in the African is powerless; he remains +the helpless child of his situation. But the Maid of Arc, though +utterly destitute of Mr. Buckle's "Intellectual Truths" (being unable +to read or write, and having received no instruction save religious +ideas), and wanting in the "Skepticism" which he thinks so essential to +all historic progress, yet develops a power of will which reacts upon +circumstances so as to turn into another channel the current of French +history. All bonds of situation and circumstance are swept asunder +by the power of a will set free by mighty religious convictions. +The element of freedom, therefore, is one not to be neglected by an +historian, except to his own loss. + +The law of averages applies only to undeveloped men, or to the +undeveloped sides of human nature, where the element of freedom has not +come in play. When the human race shall have made such progress that it +shall contain a city inhabited by a million persons all equal to the +Apostle Paul and the Apostle John in spiritual development, it will +not be found that a certain regular number kill their wives every year, +or that from two hundred and thirteen to two hundred and forty annually +commit suicide. Nor will this escape from the averages be owing to an +increased acquaintance with physical laws so much as to a higher moral +development. We shall return to this point, however, when we examine +more fully Buckle's doctrine in regard to the small influence of +religion on civilization. + +II. _Mr. Buckle's View of Organization._--Mr. Buckle sets aside +entirely the whole great fact of organization, upon which the science +of ethnology is based. Perhaps the narrowness of his mind shows more +conspicuously in this than elsewhere. He attributes no influence to +race in civilization. While so many eminent writers at the present +day say, with Mr. Knox, that "Race is everything," Mr. Buckle quietly +rejoins that Race is nothing. "Original distinctions of race," he +says, "are altogether hypothetical." "We have no decisive ground for +saying that the moral and intellectual faculties in man are likely to +be greater in an infant born in the most civilized part of Europe, +than in one born in the wildest region of a barbarous country." (Vol. +I. p. 127, Am. ed.) "We often hear of hereditary talents, hereditary +vices, and hereditary virtues; but whoever will critically examine +the evidence will find that we have no proof of their existence." He +doubts the existence of hereditary insanity, or a hereditary tendency +to suicide, or even to disease. (Vol. I. p. 128, note.) He does not +believe in any progress of natural capacity in man, but only of +opportunity, "that is, an improvement in the circumstances under which +that capacity after birth comes into play." "Here then is the gist of +the whole matter. The progress is one, not of internal power, but of +external advantage." He goes on to say, in so many words, that the only +difference between a barbarian child and a civilized child is in the +pressure of surrounding circumstances. In support of these opinions he +quotes Locke and Turgot. + +It is difficult to understand how an intelligent and well-informed man, +an immense reader and active thinker, can have lived in the midst of +the nineteenth century and retain these views. For students at every +extreme of thought have equally recognized the force of organization, +the constancy of race, the permanent varieties existing in the human +family, the steady ruling of the laws of descent. If there is any one +part of the science of anthropology in which the nineteenth century has +reversed the judgment of the eighteenth,--and that equally among men of +science, poets, materialists, idealists, anatomists, philologists,--it +is just here. To find so intelligent a man reproducing the last century +in the midst of the present is a little extraordinary. + +Perhaps there could not be found four great thinkers more different in +their tendencies of thought and range of study than Goethe, Spurzheim, +Dr. Prichard, and Max Mueller; yet these four, each by his own method of +observation, have shown with conclusive force the law of variety and +of permanence in organization. Goethe asserts that every individual +man carries from his birth to his grave an unalterable speciality of +being,--that he is, down to the smallest fibre of his character, one +and the same man; and that the whole mighty power of circumstance, +modifying everything, cannot abolish anything,--that organization and +circumstance hold on together with an equally permanent influence in +every human life. Gall and Spurzheim teach that every fibre of the +brain has its original quality and force, and that such qualities +and forces are transmitted by obscure but certain laws of descent. +Prichard, with immense learning, describes race after race, giving +the types of each human family in its physiology. And, finally, the +great science of comparative philology, worked out by such thinkers +and students as Bopp, Latham, Humboldt, Bunsen, Max Mueller, and a +host of others, has proved the permanence of human varieties by ample +glossological evidence. Thus the modern science of ethnology has +arisen, on the basis of physiology, philology, and ethology, and is +perhaps the chief discovery of the age. Yet Mr. Buckle quietly ignores +the whole of it, and continues, with Locke, to regard every human mind +as a piece of white paper, to be written on by external events,--a +piece of soft putty, to be moulded by circumstances. + +The facts on which the science of ethnology rests are so numerous and +so striking, that the only difficulty in selecting an illustration +is from the quantity and richness of material. But we may take two +instances,--that of the Teutons and Kelts, to show the permanence +of differences under the same circumstances, and that of the Jews, +the Arabs, and the Gypsies, to show the continuity of identity under +different circumstances. For if it can be made evident that different +races of men preserve different characters, though living for long +periods under similar circumstances, and that the same race preserves +the same character, though living for long periods under different +circumstances, the proof is conclusive that character is _not_ derived +from circumstances only. We shall not indeed go to the extreme of +such ethnologists as Knox, Nott, or Gliddon, and say that "Race is +everything, and circumstances nothing," but we shall see that Mr. +Buckle is mistaken in saying that "Circumstances are everything, and +race nothing." + +The differences of character between the German and Keltic varieties +of the human race are marked, but not extreme. They both belong to +the same great Indo-European or Aryan family. They both originated +in Asia, and the German emigration seems to have followed immediately +after that of the Kelts. Yet when described by Caesar, Tacitus, and +Strabo, they differed from each other exactly as they differ now. They +have lived for some two thousand years in the same climate, under +similar political and social institutions, and yet they have preserved +their original diversity. + +According to the description of Caesar[30] and Tacitus[31] the German +tribes differed essentially from the Gauls or Kelts in the following +particulars. The Germans loved freedom, and were all free. The Kelts +did not care for freedom. The meanest German was free. But all the +inferior people among the Kelts were virtually slaves. The Germans had +no priests, and did not care for sacrifices. The Kelts had a powerful +priesthood and imposing religious rites. The Germans were remarkable +for their blue eyes, light hair, and large limbs. The Kelts were +dark-complexioned. The Gauls were more quick, but less persevering, +than the Germans. Ready to attack, they were soon discouraged. +Tacitus, describing the Germans, says: "They are a pure, unmixed, and +independent race; there is a family likeness through the nation, the +same form and features, stern blue eyes, ruddy hair; a strong sense +of honor; reverence for women; religious, but without a ritual; +superstitiously believing in supernatural signs and portents, but +not in a priesthood; not living in cities, but in scattered homes; +respecting marriage; the children brought up in the dirt, among the +cattle; hospitable, frank, and generous; fond of drinking beer, and +eating preparations of milk." + +The German and Keltic races, thus distinguished in the days of Caesar, +are equally distinct to-day. Catholicism, the religion of a priesthood, +a ritual, and authority, prevails among the Kelts; Protestantism among +the Germans. Ireland, being mainly Keltic, is Catholic, though a part +of a Protestant nation. France, being mainly Keltic, is also Catholic, +in spite of all its illumination, its science, and its knowledge of +"intellectual laws." But as France contains a large infusion of German +(Frankish) blood, it is the most Protestant of Catholic nations; while +Scotland, containing the largest infusion of Keltic blood, is the +most priest-ridden of Protestant nations. This last fact, which Mr. +Buckle asserts, and spends half a volume in trying to account for, +is explained at once by ethnology. Wherever the Germans go to-day, +they remain the same people they were in the days of Tacitus; they +carry the same blue eyes and light hair, the same love of freedom and +hatred of slavery, the same tendencies to individualism in thought +and life, the same tendency to superstitious belief in supernatural +events, even when without belief in any religion or church; and even +the same love for beer, and "lac concretum," now called "schmeercase" +in our Western settlements. The Kelt, also, everywhere continues the +same. He loves equality more than freedom. He is a democrat, but not +an abolitionist. Very social, clannish, with more wit than logic, very +sensitive to praise, brave, but not determined, needing a leader, he +carries the spirit of the Catholic Church into Protestantism, and the +spirit of despotism into free institutions. And that physical, no less +than mental qualities, continue under all climates and institutions is +illustrated by the blue eyes and light hair which the traveller meets +among the Genoese and Florentines, reminding him of their Lombard +ancestors; while their superior tendencies to freedom in church and +state suggest the same origin. + +Nineteen hundred years have passed since Julius Caesar pointed out +these diversities of character then existing between the Germans and +Kelts. Since then they have passed from barbarism to civilization. +Instead of living in forests, as hunters and herdsmen, they have built +cities, engaged in commerce, manufactures, and agriculture. They have +been converted to Christianity, have conquered the Roman empire, +engaged in crusades, fought in a hundred different wars, developed +literatures, arts, and sciences, changed and changed again their forms +of government, have been organized by Feudalism, by Despotism, by +Democracy, have gone through the Protestant reformation, have emigrated +to all countries and climates; and yet, at the end of this long period, +the German everywhere remains a German, and the Kelt a Kelt. The +descriptions of Tacitus and Caesar still describe them accurately. And +yet Mr. Buckle undertakes to write a history of civilization without +taking the element of race into account. + +Perhaps, however, the power of this element of race is illustrated +still more strikingly in the case of the wandering and dispersed +families, who, having ceased to be a nation, continue in their +dispersions to manifest the permanent type of their original and +ineffaceable organization. Wherever the Jew goes, he remains a Jew. +In all climates, under all governments, speaking all languages, his +physical and mental features continue the same. This amazing fact +has been held by many theologians to be a standing miracle of Divine +Providence. But Providence works by law, and through second causes, and +uses in this instance the laws of a specially stubborn organization +and the force of a tenacious and persistent blood to accomplish its +ends. The same kind of blood in the kindred Semitic family of Arabs +produces a like result, though to a less striking degree. The Bedouins +wander for thousands of miles away from their peninsula, but always +continue Arabs in appearance and character. The light, sinewy body and +brilliant dark eye, the abstemious habit and roaming tendency, mark the +Arab in Hindostan or Barbary. It is a thousand years since these nomad +tribes left their native home, but they continue the same people on the +Persian Gulf or amid the deserts of Sahara. + +The case of the Gypsies, however, may be still more striking, because +these seem, in their wanderings over the earth, to have gradually +divested themselves of every other common attribute except that of +race. Unlike the Jews and Arabs, they not only adopt the language, but +also the religion, of the country where they happen to be. Yet they +always remain unfused and unassimilated. + +The Gypsies first appeared in Europe in 1417, in Moldavia, and thence +spread into Transylvania and Hungary.[32] They afterward passed into +all the countries of Europe, where their number, at the present time, +is supposed to reach 700,000 or 800,000. Everywhere they adopt the +common form of worship, but are without any real faith. Partially +civilized in some countries, they always retain their own language +beside that of the people among whom they live. This language, being +evidently derived from the Sanskrit, settles the question of their +origin. It is common to all their branches through the world; as +are also the sweet voice of their maidens, and their habits of +horse-dealing, fortune-telling, and petty larceny. Without the bond +of religion, history, government, literature, or mutual knowledge and +intercourse, they still remain one and the same people in all their +dispersions. What gives this unity and permanence, if not race? Yet +race, to Mr. Buckle, means nothing. + +III. _Mr. Buckle's Theory concerning Skepticism._--One of the laws of +history which Mr. Buckle considers himself to have established, if not +discovered, is that a spirit of skepticism precedes necessarily the +progress of knowledge, and therefore of civilization. By skepticism he +means a doubt of the truth of received opinions. He asserts that "a +spirit of doubt" is the necessary antecedent to "the love of inquiry." +(Vol. I. p. 242, Am. ed.) "Doubt must intervene before investigation +can begin. Here, then, we have the act of doubting as the originator, +or at all events the necessary antecedent, of all progress." + +If this were so, progress would be impossible. For the great groundwork +of knowledge for each generation must be laid in the minds of children; +and children learn, not by doubting, but by believing. Children +are actuated at the same time by an insatiable curiosity and an +unquestioning faith. They ask the reason of everything, and they accept +every reason which is given them. If they stopped to question and to +doubt, they would learn very little. But by not doubting at all, while +they are made to believe some errors, they acquire an immense amount of +information. Kind Mother Nature understands the process of learning and +the principle of progress much better than Mr. Buckle, and fortunately +supplies every new generation of children with an ardent desire for +knowledge, and a disposition to believe everything they hear. + +Perhaps, however, Mr. Buckle refers to men rather than children. He +may not insist on children's stopping to question everything they hear +before they believe. But in men perhaps this spirit is essential to +progress. What great skeptics, then, have been also great discoverers? +Which was the greatest discoverer, Leibnitz or Bayle, Sir Isaac Newton +or Voltaire? A faith amounting nearly to credulity is almost essential +to discovery,--a faith which foresees what it cannot prove, which +follows suggestions and hints, and so traces the faintest impressions +left by the flying footsteps of truth. The attitude of the intellect in +all discovery is not that of doubt, but of faith. The discoverer always +appears to critical and skeptical men as a visionary. + +"To skepticism," says Mr. Buckle, "we owe the spirit of inquiry, +which, during the last two centuries, has gradually encroached on +every possible subject, and reformed every department of practical +and speculative knowledge." But this is plainly what logicians call +a {hysteron proteron}, or what common people call "putting the cart +before the horse." It is not skepticism which produces the spirit of +inquiry, but the spirit of inquiry which produces skepticism. It was +not a doubt concerning the Mosaic cosmogony which led to the study +of geology; the study of geology led to the doubt of the cosmogony. +Skepticism concerning the authority of the Church did not lead to the +discovery of the Copernican system; the discovery of the Copernican +system led to doubts concerning the authority of the Church which +denied it. People do not begin by doubting, but by seeking. The love of +knowledge leads them to inquire, and inquiry shows to them new truths. +The new truths, being found to be opposed to received opinions, cause +a doubt concerning those opinions to arise in the mind. Skepticism, +therefore, may easily follow, but does not precede inquiry. + +Skepticism, being a negative principle, is necessarily unproductive +and barren. To have no strong belief, no fixed opinion, no vital +conviction for or against anything,--this is surely not a state of +intellect favorable to any great creation or discovery. Goethe, who was +certainly no bigot, says, in a volume of his posthumous works, that +skepticism is only an inverted superstition, and that this skepticism +is one of the chief evils of the present age. "It is worse," he adds, +"than superstition, for superstition is the inheritance of energetic, +heroic, progressive natures; skepticism belongs to weak, contracted, +shrinking men, who venture not out of themselves." Lord Bacon says +("Advancement of Learning," Book II.) that doubts have their advantages +in learning, of which he mentions two, but says that "both these +commodities do scarcely countervail an inconvenience which will intrude +itself, if it be not debarred; which is, that when a doubt is once +received, men labor rather how to keep it a doubt than how to solve +it." It will be seen, therefore, that Lord Bacon gives to skepticism +scarcely more encouragement than is given it by Goethe. + +Mr. Buckle says (Vol. I. p. 250) that "Skepticism, which in physics +must always be the beginning of science, in religion must always be +the beginning of toleration." We have seen that in physics skepticism +is rather the end of science than its beginning, and the same is true +of toleration. Skepticism does not necessarily produce toleration. The +Roman augurs, who laughed in each other's faces, were quite ready to +assist at the spectacle of Christians thrown to the lions. Skeptics, +not having any inward conviction as a support, rest on established +opinions, and are angry at seeing them disturbed. A strong belief is +sufficient for itself, but a half-belief wishes to put down all doubts +by force. This is well expressed by Thomas Burnet (Epistola 2, De Arch. +Phil.): "Non potui non in illam semper propendere opinionem, Neminem +irasci in veritate defendenda, qui eandem plene possidet, viditque +in claro lumine. Evidens enim, et indubitata ratio, sibi sufficit +et acquiescit: aliisque a scopo oberrantibus, non tam succenset, +quam miseretur. Sed cum argumentorum adversantium aculeos sentimus, +et quodammodo periclitari causam nostram, tum demum aestuamus, et +effervescimus." + +The least firm believers have often been the most violent persecutors. +Nero persecuted the Christians; Marcus Antoninus persecuted them; +but neither Nero nor Antoninus had any religious reason for this +persecution. Antoninus, the best head of his time, was a sufficient +skeptic to suit Mr. Buckle, as regards all points of the established +religion, but his skepticism did not prevent him from being a +persecutor. Unbelieving Popes, like Alexander VI. and Leo X., have +persecuted. True toleration is not born of unbelief, as Mr. Buckle +supposes, but of a deeper faith. Religious liberty has not been given +to the world by skeptics, but by such men as Milton, Baxter, Jeremy +Taylor, and Roger Williams. + +So far from general skepticism being the antecedent condition of +intellectual progress and discovery, it is a sign of approaching +intellectual stagnation and decay. A great religious movement usually +precedes and prepares the way for a great mental development. Thus the +religious activity born of Protestantism showed its results in England +in the age of Elizabeth, and in a general outbreak of intellectual +activity over all Europe. On the other hand, the skepticism of the +eighteenth century was accompanied by comparative stagnation of thought +throughout Christendom. + +IV. _Mr. Buckle's View of the small Influence of Religion on +Civilization._--Mr. Buckle thinks it is erroneous to suppose that +religion is one of the prime movers of human affairs. (Vol. I. p. 183.) +Religion, according to him, has little to do with human progress. +In this opinion, he differs from nearly all other great historians +and philosophical thinkers. In modern times, Hegel, Niebuhr, Guizot, +Arnold, and Macaulay, among others, have discussed the part taken by +religious ideas in the development of man, laying the greatest stress +on this element. But Mr. Buckle denies that religion is one of the +prime movers in human affairs. The Crusades have been thought to have +exercised some influence on European civilization. But religion was +certainly the prime mover of the Crusades. Mohammedanism exercised +some influence on the development of European life. But Mohammedanism +was an embodiment of religious ideas. The Protestant Reformation +shook every institution, every nation, every part of social life, in +Christendom, and Europe rocked to its foundations under the influence +of this great movement. But religion was the prime mover of it all. +The English Revolution turned on religious ideas. The rise of the +Dutch Republic was determined by them. In one form they colonized South +America and Mexico; in another form, they planted New England. Such +great constructive minds as those of Alfred and Charlemagne have been +benevolently inspired by rational religion; such dark, destructive +natures as those of Philip II. of Spain, Catharine de Medicis of +France, and Mary Tudor of England have been malevolently inspired by +fanatical religion. + +On what grounds, then, does Mr. Buckle dispute the influence of +religion? On two grounds mainly. First, he tells us that moral ideas +are not susceptible of progress, and therefore cannot have exercised +any perceptible influence on the progress of civilization. For that +which does not change, he argues, cannot influence that which changes. +That which has been known for thousands of years cannot be the cause +of an event which took place for the first time only yesterday. "Since +civilization is the product of moral and intellectual agencies," +says Mr. Buckle, "and since that product is constantly changing, it +cannot be regulated by the stationary agent; because when surrounding +circumstances are unchanged, a stationary agent can produce only a +stationary effect." On this principle, gravitation could not be the +cause of the appearance of Donati's comet in the neighborhood of the +sun. For gravitation is a stationary and uniform agent; it cannot +therefore produce an accelerated motion. Mr. Buckle will answer, that +though the law of gravitation is one and the same in all ages, and +uniform in its action, the result of its action may be different at +different times, according to the position in the universe of the +object acted upon. True; and in like manner we may say, that, though +religious ideas are immutable, the result of their action on the +human mind may be different, according to the position of that mind +in relation to them. The doctrine of one God, the Maker and Lord of +all things, was not a new one, or one newly discovered in the seventh +century. Yet when applied by Mohammed to the Arabian mind, it was like +a spark coming in contact with gunpowder. Those wandering sons of the +desert, unknown before in the affairs of the world, and a negative +quantity in human history, sprang up a terrible power, capable of +overrunning and conquering half the earth. Religion awakened them; +religion organized them; religion directed them. The fact that an idea +is an old one is no proof, therefore, that it may not suddenly begin to +act with awful efficiency on civilization and the destiny of man. + +The other reason given by Mr. Buckle why religious ideas have little +influence in history is, that the religion of a nation is symptomatic +of its mental and moral state. Men take the religious ideas which +suit them. A religion not suited to a people cannot be accepted by +it; or, if accepted, has no influence on it. This thought, argued at +considerable length by Mr. Buckle, is so perfectly true as to be a +truism. The religion of a people is no doubt an effect. But may it +not also be a cause? It, no doubt, cannot be received by a people +not prepared for it. But does it therefore exercise no influence on +a people which it finds prepared? Fire cannot explode an unexplosive +material, nor inflame one not inflammable. But does it follow that it +effects nothing when brought into contact with one which is inflammable +or explosive? A burning coal laid on a rock or put into the water +produces no effect. But does this prove that the explosion of gunpowder +is in no manner due to the contact of fire? + +"The religion of mankind," says Mr. Buckle, "is the effect of their +improvement, and not the cause of it." His proof is that missions and +missionaries among the heathen produce only a superficial change among +barbarous and unenlightened tribes. Knowledge, he says, must prepare +the way for it. There must, no doubt, be some kind of preparation for +Christianity. But does it follow that Christianity, when its way is +prepared, is _only_ an effect? Why may it not be also a cause? Judaism +prepared the way for Christianity. But did not Christianity produce +some effect on Judaism? The Arab mind was prepared for Mohammedanism. +But did not Mohammedanism produce some effect on the Arab mind? Europe +was prepared by various influences for Protestantism. But did not +Protestantism produce some effects on Europe? + +It might, with equal truth, and perhaps with greater truth, be asserted +that intellectual ideas are the result of previous training, and that +they are therefore an effect, and by no means a cause. The intellectual +truths accepted by any period depend certainly on the advanced +condition of human culture. You cannot teach logarithms to Hottentots, +trigonometry to Digger Indians, or the differential calculus to the +Feejee Islanders. Hence, according to our author's logic, those very +intellectual ideas which he thinks the only great movers in human +affairs are really no movers at all, but only symptoms of the actual +intellectual condition of a nation. + +But it is a curious fact, that, while Mr. Buckle considers religious +ideas of so little importance in the history of civilization, he +nevertheless devotes a large part of both his volumes to proving +the great evil done to civilization by erroneous forms of religious +opinion. Nearly the whole of his second volume is in fact given to +showing the harm done in Spain and Scotland by false systems of +religious thought. Why spend page after page in showing the evil +influence of false religion on society, if religion, whether true or +false, has scarcely any influence at all? Why search through all +the records of religious fanaticism and superstition, to bring up to +the day the ghosts of dead beliefs, if these beliefs are, after all, +powerless either for good or evil? + + * * * * * + +The second volume, the recent publication of which has suggested this +second review of Mr. Buckle's work, contains much of interest and +value, but suffers from the imperfect method of which we complained at +the beginning of this article. It is chiefly devoted to a description +of the evils resulting from priestcraft in the two countries of Spain +and Scotland. It contains six chapters. The first is on the History of +the Spanish Intellect from the fifth to the middle of the nineteenth +century. The other five chapters relate to Scotland. + +In the chapter on Spain Buckle attempts to show how loyalty and +superstition began in this nation, and what has been the result. Of +course, according to his theory, he is obliged to trace their origin to +external circumstances, and he finds the cause of the superstition in +the climate, which produced drought and famine, and in the earthquakes +which alarmed the people. And here Mr. Buckle, following the philosophy +of Lucretius, confounds religion and fear, and puts the occasion for +the cause. But, beside earthquakes, the Arian heresy helped to create +this superstition, by identifying the wars for national independence +with those for religion, and so giving a great ascendency to the +priests. Hence the Church in Spain early acquired great power, and, +naturally allying itself with the government, gave rise to the +sentiment of loyalty, which was increased by the Moorish invasion and +the long wars which followed. Loyalty and superstition thus became so +deeply rooted in the Spanish mind, that they could not be eradicated +by the efforts of the government. Nothing but knowledge can cure this +blind and servile loyalty and this abject superstition, and while Spain +continues sunk in ignorance it must always remain superstitious and +submissive. + +Some difficulties, however, suggest themselves in the way of this very +simple explanation. If superstitious loyalty to Church and king comes +from earthquakes, why are not the earthquake regions of the West Indies +and of South America more loyal, instead of being in a state of chronic +revolution? And how came Scotland to be so diseased with loyalty and +superstition, when she is so free from earthquakes? And if knowledge is +such a certain cure for superstition, why was not Spain cured by the +flood of light which she, alone of all European countries, enjoyed in +the Middle Ages? Spain was for a long time the source of science and +art to all Europe, whose Christian sons resorted to her universities +and libraries for instruction. There was taught to English, French, +and German students the philosophy of Aristotle, the Graeco-Arabic +literature, mathematics, and natural history. The numerals, gunpowder, +paper, and other inventions of the Arabs, passed into Europe from +Spain. She possessed, therefore, that knowledge of physical laws which +Mr. Buckle declares to be the only cure for superstition. Yet she was +not cured. The nation which, according to his theory, ought to have +been soonest delivered from superstition, according to his statements +has retained its yoke longer than any other. + +From Spain Mr. Buckle passes to Scotland, where he finds a still more +complicated problem. Superstition and loyalty ought to go together, he +thinks,--and usually do; but in Scotland they are divorced. The Scotch +have always been superstitious, but disloyal. To the explanation of +this fact Mr. Buckle bends his energies of thought, and of course is +able to find a theory to account for it. This theory we shall not stop +to detail; it is too complex, and at the same time too superficial, +to dwell upon. Its chief point is that the Protestant noblemen and +Protestant clergy quarreled about the wealth of the Catholic Church, +and so there was in Scotland a complete rupture between the two classes +elsewhere in alliance. Thus "the clergy, finding themselves despised +by the governing class, united themselves heartily with the people, +and advocated democratic principles." Such is the explanation given +to the course of history in a great nation. A quarrel between its +noblemen and its ministers (who are of course represented as mercenary +self-seekers) determines its permanent character! + +Mr. Buckle, to whom the love of plunder appears as the cause of what +other men regard as loyalty or religion, explains by the same fact the +loyalty of the Highlanders to King Charles. They thought that, if he +conquered, he would allow them to plunder the Lowlanders once more. +This is Buckle's explanation. An ethnologist would have remembered the +fact that the Gaels are pure-blooded Kelts, and that the Kelts _pur +sang_ are everywhere distinguished for loyalty to their chiefs. + +Mr. Buckle encounters another difficulty in Scottish history in this, +that though a new and splendid literature arose in Scotland at the +beginning of the eighteenth century, it was unable to diminish national +superstition. It was thoroughly skeptical, and yet did not produce the +appropriate effect of skepticism. So that at this point one of Mr. +Buckle's four great laws of history seems to break down. For a moment +he appears discouraged, and laments, with real pathos, the limitations +of the human intellect. But in the next chapter he addresses himself +again to the solution of his two-fold problem, viz.: "1st, that the +same people should be liberal in their politics and illiberal in their +religion; and, 2d, that their free and skeptical literature in the +eighteenth century should have been unable to lessen their religious +illiberality." + +In approaching this part of his task, in the fifth chapter, our +author gives a very elaborate and highly colored picture of the +religion of Scotland. It is _too_ well done. Like some of Macaulay's +descriptions, it is so very striking as to impress us almost inevitably +as a caricature. Every statement in which the horrors and cruelties +of Calvinism are described is indeed reinforced by ample citations +or plentiful references in the footnotes. But some of these seem +capable of a different inference from that drawn in the text. For +instance, he charges the Scottish clergy with teaching, that, though +the arrangements originally made by the Deity to punish his creatures +were ample, "they were insufficient; and hell, not being big enough +to contain the countless victims incessantly poured into it, had in +these latter days been enlarged. There was now sufficient room." He +supports the charge by this reference to Abernethy,--"Hell has enlarged +itself,"--apparently not being aware that Abernethy was merely quoting +from Isaiah. He says that to write poetry was considered by the Scotch +clergy to be a grievous offence, and worthy of special condemnation. +He supports his statement by this reference: "A mastership in a +grammar school was offered in 1767 to John Wilson, the author of +'Clyde'" (a poet, by the by, not found among the twenty John Wilsons +commemorated by Watt). "But, says his biographer, the magistrates and +ministers of Greenock thought fit, before they would admit Mr. Wilson +to the superintendence of the grammar school, to stipulate that he +should abandon 'the profane and unprofitable art of poem-making.'" +This fact, however, by no means proves that poetry was considered, +theologically, a sin, for perhaps it was regarded practically as only a +disqualification. It is to be feared that many of our school committees +now--country shopkeepers, perhaps, or city aldermen--would, apart from +Calvinism, think that a poet must be necessarily a dreamer and an +unpractical man. + +A few exaggerations of this kind there may be. But, on the whole, the +account seems to be correctly given; and it is one which will do good. + +In the remaining portion of the second volume Mr. Buckle gives a very +vigorous description of the intellectual progress of the Scotch during +the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. His account of Adam Smith +as a writer is peculiarly brilliant. His views of Hume and Reid are +ably drawn. Thence he proceeds to discuss the discoveries of Black +and Leslie in natural philosophy, of Smith and Hutton in geology, +of Cavendish in chemistry, of Cullen and Hunter in physiology and +pathology. These discussions are interesting, and show a great range of +knowledge and power of study in the writer. Yet they are episodes, and +have little bearing on the main course of his thought. + +We have thus given a cursory survey of these volumes. We do not think +Buckle's philosophy sound, his method good, or his doctrines tenable. +Yet we cannot but sympathize with one who has devoted his strength and +youth with such untiring industry to such a great enterprise. And we +must needs be touched with the plaintive confession which breaks from +his wearied mind and exhausted hope in the last volume, when he accepts +the defeat of his early endeavor, and submits to the disappointment of +his youthful hope. We should be glad to quote the entire passage,[33] +because it is the best in the book, and because he expresses in it, in +the most condensed form, his ideas and purposes as an historic writer. +But our limited space allows us only to commend it to the special +attention of the reader. + + + + +VOLTAIRE[34] + + +Mr. Parton has given us in these volumes[35] another of his interesting +and instructive biographies. Not as interesting, indeed, as some +others,--for example, as his life of Andrew Jackson; nor as instructive +as his lives of Franklin and of Jefferson. The nature of the case made +this impossible. The story of Jackson had never been told till Mr. +Parton undertook it. It was a history of frontier life, of strange +adventures, of desperate courage, of a force of character which +conquered all obstacles and achieved extraordinary results; a story + + "Of moving accidents by flood and field, + Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach, + Of being taken by the insolent foe." + +No such interest attaches to the "Life of Voltaire." His most serious +adventure was being shut up in the Bastille for a pasquinade, and +being set free again on his solemn protestation, true or false, +that he never wrote it. It is an old story, told a thousand times, +with all its gloss, if it ever had any, quite worn off. The "Life +of Franklin," which, on the whole, we think the best of Parton's +biographies, was full of interest and instruction of another kind. +It was the life of a builder,--of one who gave his great powers to +construction, to building up new institutions and new sciences, to the +discovery of knowledge and the creation of national life. Voltaire was +a diffuser of knowledge already found, but he had not the patience +nor the devotion of a discoverer. His gift was not to construct good +institutions, but to destroy bad ones,--a work the interest of which is +necessarily ephemeral. No wonder, therefore, that Mr. Parton, with all +his practiced skill as a biographer, has not been able to give to the +story of Voltaire the thrilling interest which he imparted to that of +Franklin and of Jackson. + +We gladly take the present opportunity to add our recognition of Mr. +Parton's services to those which have come to him from other quarters. +A writer of unequal merit, and one whose judgment is often biased by +his prejudices, he nevertheless has done much to show how biography +should be written. Of all forms of human writing there is none which +ought to be at once so instructive and so interesting as this, but in +the large majority of instances it is the most vapid and empty. The +good biographies, in all languages, are so few that they can almost be +counted on the fingers; but these are among the most precious books in +the literature of mankind. The story of Ruth, the Odyssey of Homer, +Plutarch's lives, the Memorabilia of Xenophon, the life of Agricola, +the Confessions of Augustine, among the ancients; and, in modern times, +Boswell's "Johnson," the autobiographies of Alfieri, Benvenuto Cellini, +Franklin, Goethe, Voltaire's "Charles XII.," and Southey's "Life of +Wesley" are specimens of what may be accomplished in this direction. It +has been thought that any man can write a biography, but it requires +genius to understand genius. How much intelligence is necessary to +collect with discrimination the significant facts of a human life; to +penetrate to the law of which they are the expression; to give the +picturesque proportions to every part, to arrange the foreground, the +middle distance, and the background of the panorama; to bring out +in proper light and shadow the features and deeds of the hero! Few +biographers take this trouble. They content themselves with collecting +the letters written by and to their subject; sweeping together the +facts of his life, important or otherwise; arranging them in some kind +of chronological order; and then having this printed and bound up in +one or two heavy volumes. + +To all this many writers of biography add another fault, which is +almost a fatal one. They treat their subject _de haut en bas_, +preferring to look down upon him rather than to look up to him. They +occupy themselves in criticising his faults and pointing out his +deficiencies, till they forget to mention what he has accomplished to +make him worthy of having his life written at all. We lately saw a +life of Pope treated in this style. One unacquainted with Pope, after +reading it, would say, "If he was such a contemptible fellow, and his +writings so insignificant, why should we have to read his biography?" +Thomas Carlyle has the great merit of leading the way in the opposite +direction, and of thus initiating a new style of biography. The old +method was for the writer to regard himself as a judge on the bench, +and the subject of his biography as a prisoner at the bar. Carlyle, +in his "Life of Schiller," showed himself a loving disciple, sitting +at the feet of his master. We recollect that when this work first +appeared there were only a few copies known to be in this country. +One was in the possession of an eminent professor in Harvard College, +of whom the present writer borrowed it. On returning it, he was asked +what he thought of it, and replied that he considered it written with +much enthusiasm. "Yes," responded the professor, "I myself thought it +rather extravagant." Enthusiasm in a biographer was then considered +to be the same as extravagance. But this hero-worship, which is the +charm in Plutarch, Xenophon, and Boswell, inspired a like interest in +Carlyle's portraits of Schiller, Goethe, Richter, Burns, and the actors +in the French Revolution. So true is his own warning: "Friend, if you +wish me to take an interest in what you say, be so kind as to take some +interest in it yourself"--a golden maxim, to be kept in mind by all +historians, writers of travels, biographers, preachers, and teachers. +A social success may sometimes be accomplished by assuming the _blase_ +air of the Roman emperor who said, "Omnia fui, nihil expedit;" but this +tone is ruinous for one who wishes the ear of the public. + +Since the days of Carlyle, others have written in the same spirit, +allowing themselves to take more or less interest in the man whose life +they were relating. So Macaulay, in his sketches of Clive, Hastings, +Chatham, Pym, and Hampden; so Lewes, in his "Life of Goethe;" and so +Parton, in his various biographies. + +In some respects Mr. Parton's biography reminds us of Macaulay's +History. Both have been credited with the same qualities, both charged +with the same defects. Both are indefatigable in collecting material +from all quarters,--from other histories and biographies, memoirs, +letters, newspapers, broadsides, and personal communications gathered +in many out-of-the-way localities. Both have the power of discarding +insignificant details and retaining what is suggestive and picturesque. +Both, therefore, have the same supreme merit of being interesting. +Both have strong prejudices, take sides earnestly, forget that they +are narrators, and begin to plead as attorneys and advocates. Both +have been accused, rightly or wrongly, of grave inaccuracies. But their +defects will not prevent them from holding their place as teachers of +the English-speaking public. English and American readers will long +continue to think of Marlborough as Macaulay represents him; of Jackson +and Jefferson as Parton describes them. Such Rembrandt-like portraits +fix the attention by their strange chiaro-oscuro. They may not be like +nature, but they take the place of nature. The most remarkable instance +of this kind is the representation of Tiberius by Tacitus, which has +caused mankind, until very recently, to consider Tiberius a monster +of licentiousness and cruelty, in spite of the almost self-evident +absurdity and self-contradiction of this assumption.[36] Limners with +such a terrible power of portraiture should be very careful how they +use it, and not abuse the faculty in the interest of their prejudices. + +If Mr. Parton resembles Macaulay in some respects, in one point, at +least, he is like Carlyle: that is, that his last hero is the least +interesting. From Schiller and Goethe to Frederic the Great was a fall; +and so from Franklin to Voltaire. Carlyle tells us what a weary task +he had with his Prussian king, and we think that Mr. Parton's labors +over the patriarch of the eighteenth-century literature must have been +equally distressing. At a distance, Voltaire is a striking phenomenon: +the most brilliant wit of almost any period; the most prolific +writer; a successful dramatist, historian, biographer, story-teller, +controversialist, lyrical poet, student of science. "Truly, a universal +genius, a mighty power!" we say. But look more closely, and this genius +turns into talent; this encyclopaedic knowledge becomes only superficial +half knowledge; this royalty is a sham royalty; it does not lead the +world, but follows it. The work into which Voltaire put his heart was +destruction--the destruction of falsehoods, bigotries, cruelties, and +shams. It was an important duty, and some one had to do it. But it was +temporary, and one of which the interest is soon over. If Luther and +the other reformers had aimed at only destroying the Church of Rome, +their influence would have speedily ceased. But they rebuilt, as they +destroyed; the sword in one hand, and the trowel in the other. They +destroyed in order to build; they took away the outgrown house, to put +another in its place. Voltaire did not go so far as that; he wanted no +new church in the place of the old one. + +Voltaire and Rousseau are often spoken of as though they were +fellow-workers, and are associated in many minds as sharing the same +convictions. Nothing can be more untrue. They were radically opposite +in the very structure of their minds, and their followers and admirers +are equally different. If all men can be divided into Platonists +and Aristotelians, they may be in like manner classified as those +who prefer Voltaire to Rousseau, and _vice versa_. Both were indeed +theists, and both opposed to the popular religion of their time. Both +were brilliant writers, masters of the French language, listened to +by the people, and with a vast popularity. Both were more or less +persecuted for their religious heresies. So far they resemble each +other. But these are only external resemblances; radically and inwardly +they were polar opposites. What attracted one repelled the other. +Voltaire was a man of the world, fond of society and social pleasures; +the child of his time, popular, a universal favorite. Rousseau shrank +from society, hated its fashions, did not enjoy its pleasures, and +belonged to another epoch than the eighteenth century. Rousseau +believed in human nature, and thought that if we could return to our +natural condition the miseries of life would cease. Voltaire despised +human nature; he forever repeated that the majority of men were knaves +and fools. Rousseau distrusted education and culture as they are +commonly understood; but to Voltaire's mind they were the only matters +of any value,--all that made life worth living. Rousseau was more like +Pascal than like Voltaire; far below Pascal, no doubt, in fixed moral +principles and ascetic virtue. Yet he resembled him in his devotion +to ideas, his enthusiasm for some better day to come. Both were out of +place in their own time; both were prophets crying in the wilderness. +Put Voltaire between Pascal and Rousseau, and it would be something +like the tableau of Goethe between Basedow and Lavater. + + "Prophete rechts, Propliete links, + Das Weltkind in der Mitte." + +The difference between Voltaire and Rousseau was really that between a +man of talent and a man of genius. Voltaire, brilliant, adroit, full of +resource, quick as a flash, versatile, with immense powers of working, +with a life full of literary successes, has not left behind him a +single masterpiece. He comes in everywhere second best. As a tragedian +he is inferior to Racine; as a wit and comic writer far below Moliere; +and he is quite surpassed as a historian and biographer by many modern +French authors. No germinating ideas are to be found in his writings, +no seed corn for future harvests. He thought himself a philosopher, +and was so regarded by others; but neither had his philosophy any +roots to it. A sufficient proof of this is the fact that he shared the +superficial optimism of the English deists, as expressed by Bolingbroke +and Pope, until the Lisbon earthquake, by destroying thirty thousand +people, changed his whole mental attitude. Till then he could say with +Pope, "Whatever is, is right." After that, most things which are, +appeared to him fatally and hopelessly wrong. That thirty thousand +persons should perish in a few minutes, in great suffering, he thought +inconsistent with the goodness of God. But take the whole world over, +thirty thousand people are continually perishing, in the course of a +few hours or days. What difference does it make, in a philosophical +point of view, if they die all at once in a particular place, or at +longer intervals in many places? Voltaire asks, "What crime had those +infants committed who lie crushed on their mother's breasts?" What +crime, we reply, have the infants committed who have been dying by +millions, in suffering, since the world began? "Was Lisbon," he asks, +"more wicked than Paris?" But had Voltaire never noticed before that +wicked people often live on in health and pleasure, while the good +suffer and die? Voltaire did not see, what it requires very little +philosophy to discover, that a Lisbon earthquake really presents no +more difficulty to the reason than the suffering and death of a single +child. + +Another fact which shows the shallow nature of Voltaire's way of +thinking is his expectation of destroying Christianity by a combined +attack upon it of all the wits and philosophers. Mr. Parton tells us +that "l'Infame," which Voltaire expected to crush, "was not religion, +nor the Christian religion, nor the Roman Catholic Church. It was," +he says, "_religion claiming supernatural authority, and enforcing +that claim by pains and penalties_." No doubt it was the spirit +of intolerance and persecution which excited his indignation. But +the object of that indignation was not the abstraction which Mr. +Parton presents to us. It was something far more concrete. There is +no doubt that Voltaire confounded Christianity with the churches +about him, and these with their abuses; and thus his object was to +sweep away all positive religious institutions, and to leave in +their place a philosophic deism. Else what meaning in his famous +boast that "it required twelve men to found a belief, which it would +need only one man to destroy"? What meaning, otherwise, in his +astonishment that Locke, "having in one book so profoundly traced +the development of the understanding, could so degrade his own +understanding in another"?--referring, as Mr. Morley believes, to +Locke's "Reasonableness of Christianity." Voltaire saw around him +Christianity represented by cruel bigots, ecclesiastics living in +indolent luxury, narrow-minded and hard-hearted priests. That was all +the Christianity he saw with his sharp perceptive faculty; and he +had no power of penetrating into the deeper life of the soul which +these corruptions misrepresented. We do not blame him for this; he +was made so; but it was a fatal defect in a reformer. The first work +of a reformer is to discover the truth and the good latent amid the +abuses he wishes to reform, and for the sake of which men endure the +evil. A Buddhist proverb says, "The human mind is like a leech: it +never lets go with its tail till it has taken hold somewhere else with +its head." Distinguish the good in a system from the evil; show how +the good can be preserved, though the evil is abandoned, and then you +may hope to effect a truly radical reform. Radicalism means going to +the roots of anything. Voltaire was incapable of becoming a radical +reformer of the Christian Church, because he had in himself no faculty +by which he could appreciate the central forces of Christianity. Mr. +Morley says that Voltaire "has said no word, nor even shown an indirect +appreciation of any word said by another, which stirs and expands that +indefinite exaltation known as the love of God," "or of the larger word +holiness." "Through the affronts which his reason received from certain +pretensions, both in the writers and in some of those whose actions +they commemorated, this sublime trait in the Bible, in both portions +of it, was unhappily lost to Voltaire. He had no ear for the finer +vibrations of the spiritual voice." And so also speaks Carlyle: "It is +a much more serious ground of offense that he intermeddled in religion +without being himself, in any measure, religious; that he entered the +temple and continued there with a levity which, in any temple where +men worship, can beseem no brother man; that, in a word, he ardently, +and with long-continued effort, warred against Christianity, without +understanding beyond the mere superficies of what Christianity was." +In fact, in the organization of Voltaire, the organ of reverence, "the +crown of the whole moral nature," seems to have been at its minimum. A +sense of justice there was; an ardent sympathy with the oppressed, a +generous hatred of the oppressor, a ready devotion of time, thought, +wealth, to the relief of the down-trodden victim. Therefore, with +such qualities, Voltaire, by the additional help of his indefatigable +energy, often succeeded in plucking the prey from the jaws of the lion. +He was able to defeat the combined powers of Church and State in his +advocacy of some individual sufferer, in his battle against some single +wrong. But his long war against the Catholic Church in France left it +just where it was when that war began. Its power to-day in France is +greater than it was then, because it is a purer and better institution +than it was then. That Sphinx still sits by the roadside propounding +its riddle. Voltaire was not the OEdipus who could solve it, and so the +life of that mystery remains untouched until now. + +The Henriade has often been considered the great epic poem of France. +This merely means that France has never produced a great epic poem. The +Henriade is artificial, prosaic, and has no particle of the glow, the +fire, the prolonged enthusiasm, which alone can give an epic poem to +mankind. In this sentence all competent critics are agreed. + +Voltaire was busy with literature during his whole life. He not +only wrote continually himself, but he was a critic of the writings +of others. His mind was essentially critical,--formed to analyze, +discriminate sharply, compare, and judge by some universal standard +of taste. Here, if anywhere, he ought to be at his best; here, if in +any department, he should stand at the head of the world's board of +literary censors. But here, again, he is not even second-rate; here, +more than elsewhere, he shows how superficial are his judgments. He +tests every writer by the French standard in the eighteenth century. +Every word which Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, have said of other +writers is full of value and interest to-day. But who would go to +Voltaire for light on any book or author? We have an instinctive but +certain conviction that all his views are limited by his immediate +environment, perverted by his personal prejudices. Thus, he prefers +Ariosto to the Odyssey, and Tasso's Jerusalem to the Iliad.[37] His +inability to comprehend the greatness of Shakespeare is well known. +He is filled with indignation because a French critic had called +Shakespeare "the god of the stage." "The blood boils in my old veins," +says he; "and what is frightful to think of, it was I myself who first +showed to Frenchmen the few pearls to be found in the dunghill."[38] +Chesterfield's Letters to his Son he considers "the best book upon +education ever written."[39] This is the book in which a father teaches +his son the art of polite falsehood, of which Dr. Johnson says that "it +shows how grace can be united with wickedness,"--the book whose author +is called by De Vere the philosopher of flattery and dissimulation. He +admitted that there were some good things in Milton, but speaks of his +conceptions as "odd and extravagant."[40] He thought Condorcet much +superior to Pascal. The verses of Helvetius he believed better than +any but those of Racine. The era was what Villemain calls "the golden +age of mediocre writers;" and Voltaire habitually praised them all. +But these writers mostly belonged to a mutual admiration society. The +anatomist Tissot, in one of his physiological works, says that the +genius of Diderot came to show to mankind how every variety of talent +could be brought to perfection in one man. Diderot, in his turn, went +into frantic delight over the novels of Richardson. "Since I have read +these works," he says, "I make them my touchstone; those who do not +admire them are self-condemned. O my friends, what majestic dramas +are these three, Clarissa, Sir Charles Grandison, and Pamela!" Such +was the eighteenth century; and Voltaire belonged to it with all the +intensity of his ardent nature. He may be said never to have seen or +foreseen anything better. Living on the very verge of a great social +revolution, he does not appear to have suspected what its nature would +be, even if he suspected its approach. The cruelties of the Church +exasperated him, but the political condition of society, the misery of +the peasants, the luxury of the nobles, the despotism of the king, left +him unmoved. He was singularly deficient in any conception of the value +of political liberty or of free institutions. If he had lived to see +the coming of the Revolution, it would have utterly astounded him. His +sympathies were with an enlightened aristocracy, not with the people. +In this, too, he was the man of his time, and belonged to the middle of +his century, not the end of it. He saw and lamented the evils of bad +government. He pointed out the miseries produced by war. He abhorred +and denounced the military spirit. He called on the clergy, in the +name of their religion, to join him in his righteous appeals against +this great curse of mankind. "Where," he asks, "in the five or six +thousand sermons of Massillon, are there two in which anything is said +against the scourge of war?" He rebukes the philosophers and moralists, +also, for their delinquency in this matter, and replies forcibly to +Montesquieu's argument that self-defense sometimes makes it necessary +to begin the attack on a neighboring nation. But he does not go back +to trace the evil to its root in the absence of self-government. In +a letter to the King of Prussia he says, "When I asked you to become +the deliverer of Greece, I did not mean to have you restore the +democracy. I do not love the rule of the rabble" (_gouvernement de la +canaille_). Again, writing to the same, in January, 1757, he says, +"Your majesty will confer a great benefit by destroying this infamous +superstition [Christianity]; I do not say among the _canaille_, who +do not deserve to be enlightened, and who ought to be kept down under +all yokes, but among honest people, people who think. Give white bread +to the children, but only black bread to the dogs." In 1762, writing +to the Marquis d'Argens, he says, "The Turks say that their Koran has +sometimes the face of an angel, sometimes the face of a beast. This +description suits our time. There are a few philosophers,--they have +the face of an angel; all else much resembles that of a beast." Again, +he says to Helvetius, "Consider no man your neighbor but the man who +thinks; look on all other men as wolves, foxes, and deer." "We shall +soon see," he writes to D'Alembert, "new heavens and a new earth,--I +mean for honest people; for as to the _canaille_, the stupidest heaven +and earth is all they are fit for." The real government of nations, +according to him, should be administered by absolute kings, in the +interest of freethinkers. + +It is true that after Rousseau had published his trumpet-call in +behalf of democratic rights, Voltaire began to waver. It has been +remarked that "at the very time when he expressed an increasing +ill-will against the person of the author of 'Emile,' he was +irresistibly attracted to the principal doctrines of Rousseau. He +entered, as if in spite of himself, into paths toward which his feet +were never before directed. As if to revenge himself for coming under +this salutary influence, he pursued Rousseau with blind anger."[41] He +harshly attacked the Social Contract, but accepted the sovereignty of +the people; saying that "civil government is the will of all, executed +by a single one, or by several, in virtue of the laws which all have +enacted." He, however, speedily restricted this democratic principle +by confining the right of making laws to the owners of real estate. +He declares that those who have neither house nor land ought not to +have any voice in the matter. He now began (in 1764) to look forward +to the end of monarchies, and to expect a revolution. Nevertheless, +he plainly declares, "The pretended equality of man is a pernicious +chimera. If there were not thirty laborers to one master, the earth +would not be cultivated." But in practical and humane reforms Voltaire +took the lead, and did good work. He opposed examination by torture, +the punishment of death for theft, the confiscation of the property of +the condemned, the penalties against heretics; secret trials; praised +trial by jury, civil marriage, right of divorce, and reforms in the +direction of hygiene and education. + +And, above all, whatever fault may be found with Voltaire, let us never +cease to appreciate his generous efforts in behalf of the unfortunate +victims of the atrocious bigotry which then prevailed in France. It +is not necessary to dwell here on the cases of Calas, the Sirvens, La +Barre, and the Count de Lally. They are fully told by Mr. Parton, and +to his account we refer our readers. In 1762 the Protestant pastor +Rochette was hanged, by order of the Parliament of Toulouse, for +having exercised his ministry in Languedoc. At the same time three +young gentlemen, Protestants, were beheaded, for having taken arms to +defend themselves from being slaughtered by the Catholics. In 1762, the +Protestant merchant Calas, an aged and worthy citizen of Toulouse, was +tortured and broken on the wheel, on a wholly unsupported charge of +having killed his son to keep him from turning Catholic. A Protestant +girl named Sirven was, about the same time, taken from her parents, +and shut up in a convent, to compel her to change her religion. She +escaped, and perished by accident during her flight. The parents were +accused of having killed her to keep her from becoming a Catholic. They +escaped, but the wife died of exposure and want. In 1766 a crucifix +was injured by some wanton persons. The Bishop of Amiens called out +for vengeance. Two young officers, eighteen years old, were accused. +One escaped; the other, La Barre, was condemned to have his tongue +cut out, his right hand cut off, and to be burned alive. The sentence +was commuted to death by decapitation. Voltaire, seventy years old, +devoted himself with masterly ability and untiring energy to save +these victims; and when he failed in that, to show the falsehood of +the charges, and to obtain a revision of the judgments. He used all +means: personal appeals to men in power and to female favorites, +eloquence, wit, pathos in every form of writing. He called on all his +friends to aid him. He poured a flood of light into these dark places +of iniquity. His generous labors were crowned with success. He procured +a reversal of these iniquitous decisions; in some cases a restoration +of the confiscated property, and a public recognition of the innocence +of those condemned. Without knowing it, he was acting as a disciple of +Jesus. Perhaps he may have met in the other world with the great leader +of humanity, whom he never understood below, and been surprised to hear +him say, "Inasmuch as thou hast done it to the least of my little ones, +thou hast done it unto me." + +Carlyle tells us that the chief quality of Voltaire was _adroitness_. +He denies that he was really a great man, and says that in one +essential mark of greatness he was wholly wanting, that is, +earnestness. He adds that Voltaire was by birth a mocker; that this +was the irresistible bias of his disposition; that the first question +with him was always not what is true but what is false, not what is to +be loved but what is to be contemned. He was shallow without heroism, +full of pettiness, full of vanity; "not a great man, but only a great +_persifleur_." + +But certainly some other qualities than these were essential to +produce the immense influence which he exerted in his own time, and +since. Beside the extreme adroitness of which Carlyle speaks, he +had as exhaustless an energy as was ever granted to any of the sons +of men. He was never happy except when he was at work. He worked at +home, he worked when visiting, he worked in his carriage, he worked at +hotels. Amid annoyances and disturbances which would have paralyzed +the thought and pen of others, Voltaire labored on. Upon his sick bed, +in extreme debility and in old age, that untiring pen was ever in +motion, and whatever came from it interested all mankind. Besides the +innumerable books, tracts, and treatises which fill the volumes of his +collected works, there are said to be in existence fourteen thousand +of his letters, half of which have never been printed. But this was +only a part of the outcome of his terrible vitality. He was also an +enterprising and energetic man of business. He speculated in the funds, +lent money on interest, fitted out ships, bought and sold real estate, +solicited and obtained pensions. In this way he changed his patrimony +of about two hundred thousand francs to an annual income of the same +amount,--equal to at least one hundred thousand dollars a year at the +present time. He was determined to be rich, and he became so; not +because he loved money for itself, nor because he was covetous. He gave +money freely; he used it in large ways. He sought wealth as a means of +self-defense,--to protect himself against the persecution which his +attacks on the Church might bring upon him. He also had, like a great +writer of the present century, Walter Scott, the desire of being a +large landed proprietor and lord of a manor; and, like Scott, he became +one, reigning at Ferney as Scott ruled at Abbotsford. + +In defending himself against his persecutors he used other means +not so legitimate. One of his methods was systematic falsehood. He +first concealed, and then denied, the authorship of any works which +would expose him to danger. He took the tone of injured innocence. +For example, he had worked with delight, during twenty years, on his +wretched "Pucelle." To write new lines in it, or a new canto, was his +refreshment; to read them to his friends gave him the most intense +satisfaction. But when the poem found its way into print, with what +an outcry he denies the authorship, almost before he is charged with +it. He assumes the air of calumniated virtue. The charge, he declares, +is one of the infamous inventions of his enemies. He writes to the +"Journal Encyclopedique," "The crowning point of their devilish +manoeuvres is the edition of a poem called 'La Pucelle d'Orleans.' +The editor has the face to attribute this work to the author of the +'Henriade,' the 'Zaire,' the 'Merope,' the 'Alzire,' the 'Siecle de +Louis XIV.' He dares to ascribe to this author the flattest, meanest, +and most gross work which can come from the press. My pen refuses to +copy the tissue of silly and abominable obscenities of this work of +darkness." When the "Dictionnaire Philosophique" began to appear, he +wrote to D'Alembert, "As soon as any danger arises, I beg you will let +me know, that I may disavow the work in all the public papers with +my usual candor and innocence." Mr. Parton tells us that he had _a +hundred and eight_ pseudonyms. He signed his pamphlets A Benedictine, +The Archbishop of Canterbury, A Quaker, Rev. Josias Roussette, the Abbe +Lilladet, the Abbe Bigorre, the Pastor Bourn. He was also ready to tell +a downright lie when it suited his convenience. + +When "Candide" was printed, in 1758, he wrote, as Mr. Parton tells +us, to a friendly pastor in Geneva, "I have at length read 'Candide.' +People must have lost their senses to attribute to me that pack of +nonsense. I have, thank God, better occupation. This optimism [of +Pangloss] obviously destroys the foundation of our holy religion." Our +holy religion! + +An excuse may be found for these falsehoods. A writer, it may be said, +has a right to his incognito; if so, he has a right to protect it by +denying the authorship of a book when charged with it. This is doubtful +morality, but Voltaire went far beyond this. He volunteered his +denials. He asserted in every way, with the most solemn asseverations, +that he was not the author of a book which he had written with delight. +But this was not the worst. He not only told these author's lies, +but he was a deliberate hypocrite, professing faith in Christianity, +receiving its sacraments, asking spiritual help from the Pope, +and begging for relics from the Vatican, at the very time that he +was hoping by strenuous efforts to destroy both Catholicism and +Christianity. + +When he was endeavoring to be admitted to a place in the French +Academy, he wrote thus to the Bishop of Mirepoix:[42] "Thanks to +Heaven, my religion teaches me to know how to suffer. The God who +founded it, as soon as he deigned to become man, was of all men the +most persecuted. After such an example, it is almost a crime to +complain.... I can say, before God who hears me, that I am a good +citizen and a true Catholic.... I have written many pages sanctified by +religion." In this Mr. Parton admits that he went too far. + +When at Colmar, as a measure of self-protection, he resolved to +commune at Easter. Mr. Parton says that Voltaire had pensions and +rents to the amount of sixty thousand livres annually, of which the +king could deprive him by a stroke of the pen. So he determined to +prove himself a good Catholic by taking the sacraments. As a necessary +preliminary, he confessed to a Capuchin monk. He wrote to D'Argens +just before, "If I had a hundred thousand men, I know what I should +do; but as I have them not, I shall commune at Easter!" But, writing +to Rousseau, he thinks it shameful in Galileo to retract his opinions. +Mr. Parton too, who is disposed to excuse some of these hypocrisies +in Voltaire, is scandalized because the pastors of Geneva denied the +charges of heresy brought against them by Voltaire; saying that "we +live, as they lived, in an atmosphere of insincerity." In the midst +of all this, Voltaire took credit to himself for his frank avowals of +the truth: "I am not wrong to dare to utter what worthy men think. For +forty years I have braved the base empire of the despots of the mind." +Mr. Parton elsewhere seems to think it would have been impossible for +Voltaire to versify the Psalms; as it was "asked him to give the lie +publicly to his whole career." But if communing at Easter did not do +this, how could a versification of a few psalms accomplish it? Parton +quotes Condorcet as saying that Voltaire could not become a hypocrite, +even to be a cardinal. Could any one do a more hypocritical action +than to partake the sacraments of a Church which he despised in order +to escape the danger of persecution? + +When building his house at Ferney, the neighboring Catholic cures +interfered with him. They prohibited the laborers from working for him. +To meet this difficulty he determined to obtain the protection of the +Pope himself. So he wrote to the Pope, asking for a relic to put in the +church he had built, and received in return a piece of the hair-shirt +of St. Francis. He went to mass frequently. Meantime, in his letters +to his brother freethinkers, he added his usual postscript, "Ecrasez +l'Infame;" begging their aid in crushing Catholicism and Christianity. +Yet it does not seem that he considered himself a hypocrite in thus +conforming outwardly to a religion which he hated. He thinks that +others who do so are hypocrites, but not that he is one. In 1764 he +writes to Madame du Deffand, "The worst is that we are surrounded by +hypocrites, who worry us to make us think what they themselves do +not think at all." So singular are the self-deceptions of the human +mind. He writes to Frederic ridiculing the sacrament of extreme +unction, and then solemnly partakes of the eucharist. Certainly he +did not belong to the noble army of martyrs. He expected to overturn +a great religious system, not by the power of faith, but by ingenious +pamphlets, brilliant sarcasms, adroit deceptions. In thus thinking he +was eminently superficial. + +His theory on this subject is given in an article in the "Dictionnaire +Philosophique," quoted by Mr. Parton: "Distinguish honest people who +think, from the populace who were not made to think. If usage obliges +you to perform a ridiculous ceremony for the sake of the canaille, and +on the road you meet some people of understanding, notify them by a +sign of the head, or a look, that you think as they do.... If imbeciles +still wish to eat acorns, let them have acorns." + +Mr. Parton describes in full (vol. ii. p. 410) the ceremony of the +eucharist of which Voltaire partook in his own church at Ferney. It was +Easter Sunday, and Voltaire mounted the pulpit and preached a sermon +against theft. Hearing of this, the bishop was scandalized, and forbade +all the curates of the diocese from confessing, absolving, or giving +the sacrament to Voltaire. Upon this Voltaire writes and signs a formal +demand on the curate of Ferney to allow him to confess and commune +in the Catholic Church, in which he was born, has lived, and wishes +to die; offering to make all necessary declarations, all requisite +protestations, in public or private, submitting himself absolutely +to all the rules of the Church, for the edification of Catholics and +Protestants. All this was a mere piece of mystification and fun. He +pretended to be too sick to go to the church, and made a Capuchin come +and administer the eucharist to him in bed; Voltaire saying, "Having +my God in my mouth, I declare that I forgive all my enemies." No +wonder that with all his marvelous ability and his long war upon the +Catholic Church he was unable to make any lasting impression upon it. +Talent is not enough to make revolutions of opinion. No serious faith +was ever destroyed by a jest. + +If we return to Rousseau, and compare his influence with that of +Voltaire, we shall find that it went far deeper. Voltaire was a man of +immense talent. Talent originates nothing, but formulates into masterly +expression what has come to it from the age in which it lives. Not +a new idea can be found, we believe, in all Voltaire's innumerable +writings. But genius has a vision of ideal truth. It is a prophet of +the future. Rousseau, with his many faults, weaknesses, follies, was +a man of genius. He was probably the most eloquent writer of French +prose who has ever appeared. He was a man possessed by his ideas. He +had none of the adroitness, wit, ingenuity, of Voltaire. Instead of +amassing an enormous fortune, he supported himself by copying music. +Instead of being surrounded by admirers and flatterers, he led a +solitary life, alone with his ideas. Instead of denying the authorship +of his works, and so giving an excuse to the authorities to leave him +quiet, he put his name to his writings. He worked for his bread with +his hands, and in his "Emile" he recommended that all boys should be +taught some manual craft. Voltaire ridiculed the _gentleman carpenter_ +of Rousseau; but before that generation passed away, many a French +nobleman had reason to lament that he had not been taught to use the +saw and the plane. + +If Voltaire belonged to the eighteenth century, and brought to a +brilliant focus its scattered rays, Rousseau belonged more to the +nineteenth. Amidst the _persiflage_, the mockery, the light and easy +philosophy, of his day, he stood, "among them, but not of them, in a +crowd of thoughts which were not their thoughts." This is the true +explanation of his weakness and strength, and of the intense dislike +felt for him by Voltaire and the school of Voltaire. They belonged to +their time, Rousseau to a coming time. + +The eighteenth century, especially in France, was one in which nature +was at its minimum and art at its maximum. All was art. But art +separated from nature becomes artificial, not to say artful. Decorum +was the law in morals; the _bienseances_ and _convenances_ ruled in +society. The stage was bound by conventional rules. Poetry walked +in silk attire, and made its toilette with the elaborate dignity of +the _levee_ of the Grand Monarque. Against all this Rousseau led the +reaction--the reaction inevitable as destiny. As art had been pushed +to an extreme, so now naturalism was carried to the opposite extreme. +Rousseau was the apostle of nature in all things. Children were to be +educated by the methods of nature, not according to the routine of old +custom. Governments were to go back to their origin in human nature; +society was to be reorganized on first principles. This voice crying in +the wilderness was like the trumpet of doom to the age, announcing the +age to come. It laid the axe at the root of the tree. Its outcome was +the French Revolution, that rushing, mighty flood, which carried away +the throne, the aristocracy, the manners, laws, and prejudices of the +past. + +In his first great work, the work which startled Europe, Rousseau +recalled man to himself. He said, "The true philosophy is to commune +with one's self,"--the greatest saying, thinks Henri Martin, that had +been pronounced in that century. Rousseau condemned luxury, and uttered +a prophetic cry of woe over the tangled perplexities of the time. +"There is no longer a remedy, _unless through some great revolution, +almost as much to be feared as the evil it would cure,--which it is +blamable to desire, impossible to foresee_." + +"_Man is naturally good_," says Rousseau. Before the frightful words +"mine" and "thine" were invented, how could there have been, he asks, +any vices or crimes? He denounced all slavery, all inequality, all +forms of oppression. His writings were full of exaggeration, but, +says the French historian, "no sooner had he opened his lips than he +restored earnestness to the world." The same writer, after speaking +of the faults of the "Nouvelle Heloise," adds that nevertheless "a +multitude of the letters of his 'Julie' are masterpieces of eloquence, +passion, and profundity; and the last portions are signalized by a +moral purity, a wisdom of views, and a religious elevation altogether +new in the France of the eighteenth century." Concerning "Emile," he +says, "It is the profoundest study of human nature in our language; it +was an ark of safety, launched by Providence on the waves of skepticism +and materialism. If Rousseau had been stricken out of the eighteenth +century, whither, we seriously ask, would the human mind have +drifted?"[43] + +The "Social Contract" appeared in 1762. In this work Rousseau swept +away by his powerful eloquence the arguments which placed sovereignty +elsewhere than in the hands of the people. This fundamental idea was +the seed corn which broke from the earth in the first Revolution, and +bears its ripe fruit in republican France to-day. D'Alembert, who +disliked Rousseau, said of "Emile" that "it placed him at the head of +all writers." The "Social Contract," illogical and unsound in many +things, yet tore down the whole framework of despotism. Van Laun, a +more recent historian, tells us that Rousseau was a man of the people, +who knew all their wants; that every vice he attacked was one that they +saw really present in their midst; that he "opened the flood-gates of +suppressed desires, which gushed forth, overwhelming a whole artificial +world." Villemain writes that the words of Rousseau, "descending like +a flame of fire, moved the souls of his contemporaries;" and that "his +books glow with an eloquence which can never pass away." Morley, to +whom Rousseau is essentially antipathic, says of the "Social Contract" +that its first words, "Man is born free, but is everywhere in chains," +thrilled two continents,--that it was the gospel of the Jacobins; and +the action of the convention in 1794 can be explained only by the +influence of Rousseau. He taught France to believe in a government of +the people, by the people, and for the people. Locke had already taught +this doctrine in England, where it produced no such violent outbreak, +because it encountered no such glaring abuses. + +Such is the striking contrast between these two greatest writers in +modern French literature. It is singular to observe their instinctive +antagonism in every point of belief and character. The merits of one +are precisely opposite to those of the other: their faults are equally +opposed. + +The events of Voltaire's life have been so often told that Mr. Parton +has not been able to add much to our knowledge of his biography. He +was born in 1694 and died in 1778, at the age of eighty-four, though +at his birth he was so feeble that those who believe that the world's +progress depends on the survival of the fittest would have thought +him not fit to be brought up. This was also the case with Goethe and +Walter Scott. His father was a notary, and the name Arouet had that +of Voltaire added to it, it being a name in his mother's family. This +affix was adopted by the lad when in the Bastille, at the age of +twenty-four. As a duck takes to water, so Voltaire took to his pen. In +his twelfth year he wrote verses addressed to the Dauphin, which so +pleased the famous Ninon de l'Enclos, then in her ninetieth year, that +she left the boy a legacy of two thousand francs. He went to a Jesuits' +school, and always retained a certain liking for the Jesuits. His +father wished to make him a notary, but he would "pen a stanza when he +should engross;" and the usual struggles between the paternal purpose +and the filial instinct ended, as usual, in the triumph of the latter. +He led a wild career for a time, in the society of dissipated abbes, +debauched noblemen, and women to whom pleasure was the only object. +Suspected of having written a lampoon on the death of Louis XIV., he +was sent to the Bastille, and came forth not only with a new name, +but with literature as his aim for the rest of his life. His first +play appeared on the stage in 1718, and from that time he continued to +write till his death. He traveled from the _chateau_ of one nobleman +to another, pouring out his satires and sarcasms through the press; +threatened by the angry rulers and priests who governed France, but +always escaping by some adroit manoeuvre. In England he became a deist +and a mathematician. His views of Christ and Christianity were summed +up in a quatrain which may be thus translated. Speaking of Jesus, he +says,-- + + "His actions are holy, his ethics divine; + Into hearts which are wounded he pours oil and wine. + And if, through imposture, those truths are received, + It still is a blessing to be thus deceived." + +He lived many years at Cirey with the Marchioness of Chatelet; the +marquis, her husband, accepting the curious relation without any +objection. Then followed the still stranger episode of his residence +with Frederic the Great, their love quarrels and reconciliations. After +this friendship came to an end, Voltaire went to live near Geneva in +Switzerland, but soon bought another estate just out of Switzerland, +in France, and a third a short distance away, in the territory of +another power. Thus, if threatened in one state, he could easily pass +into another. Here he lived and worked till the close of his life, +an untiring writer. He was a man of infinite wit, kind-hearted, with +little malignity of any sort, wishing in the main to do good. His +violent attacks upon Christianity may be explained by the fact of the +corruptions of the Church which were around him. The Church of France +in that day, in its higher circles, was a persecuting Church, yet +without faith: greedy for wealth, living in luxury, careless of the +poor, and well deserving the attacks of Voltaire. That he could not +look deeper and see the need of religious institutions of a better sort +was his misfortune. + +This work is a storehouse of facts for the history of Voltaire and his +time. We do not think it will materially alter the judgment pronounced +on him by such critics as Carlyle, Morley, and the majority of French +writers in our day. Voltaire was a shining light in his age, but that +age has gone by, and can never return. + + + + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON[44] + +MATT. vi. 23.--_If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of +light._ + + +It is natural and fit that many pulpits to-day should take for their +theme the character and influence of the great thinker and poet who has +just left us; for every such soul is a new revelation of God's truth +and love. Each opens the gateway between our lower world of earthly +care and earthly pleasure into a higher heavenly world of spirit. Such +men lift our lives to a higher plane, and convince us that we, also, +belong to God, to eternity, to heaven. And few, in our day, have been +such mediators of heavenly things to mankind as Ralph Waldo Emerson. + +Last Sunday afternoon, when the town of Concord was mourning through +all its streets for the loss of its beloved and revered citizen; when +the humblest cottage had on its door the badge of sorrow; when great +numbers came from abroad to testify their affection and respect, that +which impressed me the most was the inevitable response of the human +heart to whatever is true and good. Cynics may tell us that men are +duped by charlatans, led by selfish demagogues, incapable of knowing +honor and truth when set before them; that they always stone their +prophets and crucify their saviors; that they have eyes, and do not +see; ears, and never hear. This is all true for a time; but inevitably, +by a law as sure as that which governs the movements of the planets, +the souls of men turn at last toward what is true, generous, and noble. +The prophets and teachers of the race may be stoned by one generation, +but their monuments are raised by the next. They are misunderstood and +misrepresented to-day, but to-morrow they become the accredited leaders +of their time. Jesus, who knew well that he would be rejected and +murdered by a people blind and deaf to his truth, also knew that this +truth would sooner or later break down all opposition, and make him +master and king of the world. "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men +unto me." + +Last Sunday afternoon, as the grateful procession followed their +teacher to his grave in the Concord cemetery, the harshness of our +spring seemed to relent, and Nature became tender toward him who had +loved her so well. I thought of his words, "The visible heavens and +earth sympathized with Jesus." The town where "the embattled farmers +stood;" where the musket was discharged which opened the War of the +Revolution--the gun of which Lafayette said, "It was the alarm-gun of +the world;" the town of Hawthorne's "Old Manse," and of his grave, now +that Emerson also sleeps in its quiet valley, has received an added +glory. It has become one of the "Meccas of the mind." + +Let me describe the mental and spiritual condition of New England +when Emerson appeared. Calvinism, with its rigorous dogmatism, was +slowly dying, and had been succeeded by a calm and somewhat formal +rationalism. Locke was still the master in the realm of thought; +Addison and Blair in literary expression. In poetry, the school of Pope +was engaged in conflict with that of Byron and his contemporaries. +Wordsworth had led the way to a deeper view of nature; but Wordsworth +could scarcely be called a popular writer. In theology a certain +literalism prevailed, and the doctrines of Christianity were inferred +from counting and weighing texts on either side. Not the higher reason, +with its intuition of eternal ideas, but the analytic understanding, +with its logical methods, was considered to be the ruler in the world +of thought. There was more of culture than of intellectual life, more +of good habits than of moral enthusiasm. Religion had become very +much of an external institution. Christianity consisted in holding +rational or orthodox opinions, going regularly to church, and listening +every Sunday to a certain number of prayers, hymns, and sermons. +These sermons, with some striking exceptions, were rather tame and +mechanical. In Boston, it is true, Buckminster had appeared,--that soul +of flame which soon wore to decay its weak body. The consummate orator +Edward Everett had followed him in Brattle Square pulpit. Above all, +Channing had looked, with a new spiritual insight, into the truths of +religion and morality. But still the mechanical treatment prevailed in +a majority of the churches of New England, and was considered, on the +whole, to be the wisest and safest method. There was an unwritten creed +of morals, literature, and social thought to which all were expected +to conform. There was little originality and much repetition. On all +subjects there were certain formulas which it was considered proper +to repeat. "Thou art a blessed fellow," says one of Shakespeare's +characters, "to think as other people think. Not a man's thought in the +world keeps the roadway better than thine." The thought of New England +kept the roadway. Of course, at all times a large part of the belief +of the community is derived from memory, custom, and imitation; but +in those days, if I remember them aright, it was regarded as a kind +of duty to think as every one else thought; a sort of delinquency, or +weakness, to differ from the majority. + +If the movements of thought are now much more independent and +spontaneous; if to-day traditions have lost their despotic power; if +even those who hold an orthodox creed are able to treat it as a dead +letter, respectable for its past uses, but by no means binding on us +now, this is largely owing to the manly position taken by Emerson. And +yet, let it be observed, this influence was not exercised by attacking +old opinions, by argument, by denial, by criticism. Theodore Parker +did all this, but his influence on thought has been far less than that +of Emerson. Parker was a hero who snuffed the battle afar off, and +flung himself, sword in hand, into the thick of the conflict. But, +much as we love and reverence his honesty, his immense activity, his +devotion to truth and right, we must admit to-day, standing by these +two friendly graves, that the power of Emerson to soften the rigidity +of time-hardened belief was far the greater. It is the old fable of +the storm and sun. The violent attacks of the tempest only made the +traveler cling more closely to his cloak; the genial heat of the sun +compelled him to throw it aside. In all Emerson's writings there is +scarcely any argument. He attacks no man's belief; he simply states +his own. His method is always positive, constructive. He opens the +windows and lets in more light. He is no man's opponent; the enemy +of no one. He states what he sees, and that which he does not see he +passes by. He was often attacked, but never replied. His answer was +to go forward, and say something else. He did not care for what he +called the "bugbear consistency." If to-day he said what seemed like +Pantheism, and to-morrow he saw some truth which seemed to reveal a +divine personality, a supreme will, he uttered the last, as he had +declared the first, always faithful to the light within. He left it to +the spirit of truth to reconcile such apparent contradictions. He was +like his own humble-bee-- + + "Seeing only what is fair, + Sipping only what is sweet; + Thou dost mock at fate and care, + Leave the chaff and take the wheat." + +By this method of positive statement he not only saved the time usually +wasted in argument, attack, reply, rejoinder, but he gave us the +substance of Truth, instead of its form. Logic and metaphysic reveal +no truths; they merely arrange in order what the higher faculties of +the mind have made known. Hence the speedy oblivion which descends on +polemics of all sorts. The great theological debaters, where are they? +The books of Horsley and McGee are buried in the same grave with those +of Belsham and Priestley, their old opponents. The bitter attacks on +Christianity by Voltaire and Paine are inurned in the same dark and +forgotten vaults with the equally bitter defenses of Christianity by +its numerous champions. Argument may often be necessary, but no truth +is slain by argument; no error can be kept alive by it. Emerson is an +eminent example of a man who never replied to attacks, but went on +his way, and saw at last all opposition hushed, all hostility at an +end. He devoted his powers to giving to his readers his insights, +knowing that these alone feed the soul. Thus men came to him to be +fed. His sheep heard his voice. Those who felt themselves better +for his instruction followed him. He collected around him thus an +ever-increasing band of disciples, until in England, in Germany, in all +lands where men read and think, he is looked up to as a master. Many of +these disciples were persons of rare gifts and powers, like Margaret +Fuller, Theodore Parker, George Ripley, Hawthorne. Many others were +unknown to fame, yet deeply sensible of the blessings they had received +from their prophet and seer of the nineteenth century. For this was his +office. He was a man who saw. He had the vision and the faculty divine. +He sat near the fountain-head, and tasted the waters of Helicon in +their source. + +His first little book, a duodecimo of less than a hundred pages, called +"Nature," published in 1836, indicates all these qualities. It begins +thus:-- + +"Our age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres of the fathers. It +writes biographies, histories, criticisms. The foregoing generations +beheld God and Nature face to face; we, through their eyes. Why should +not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe? Why should not +we have a poetry and philosophy of insight, and not of tradition, and +a religion by revelation to us, and not the history of theirs?... The +sun shines to-day also.... Undoubtedly we have no questions to ask +which are unanswerable." + +This was his first doctrine, that of self-reliance. He taught that +God had given to every man the power to see with his own eyes, think +with his own mind, believe what seemed to him true, plant himself on +his instincts, and, as he says, "call a pop-gun a pop-gun, though +the ancient and honorable of the earth declare it to be the crack of +doom." This was manly and wholesome doctrine. It might, no doubt, be +abused, and lead some persons to think they were men of original genius +when they were only eccentric. It may have led others to attack all +institutions and traditions, as though, if a thing were old, it was +necessarily false. But Emerson himself was the best antidote to such +extravagance. To a youth who brought to him a manuscript confuting +Plato he replied, "When you attack the king you ought to be sure to +kill him." But his protest against the prevailing conventionalism was +healthy, and his call on all "to be themselves" was inspiring. + +The same doctrine is taught in the introductory remarks of the editors +of the "Dial." They say they have obeyed with joy the strong current of +thought which has led many sincere persons to reprobate that rigor of +conventions which is turning them to stone, which renounces hope and +only looks backward, which suspects improvement, and holds nothing so +much in horror as the dreams of youth. This work, the "Dial," made a +great impression, out of all proportion to its small circulation. By +the elders it was cordially declared to be unintelligible mysticism, +and so, no doubt, much of it was. Those inside, its own friends, often +made as much fun of it as those outside. Yet it opened the door for +many new and noble thoughts, and was a wild bugle-note, a reveille, +calling on all generous hearts to look toward the coming day. + +Here is an extract from one of Emerson's letters from Europe as early +as March, 1833. It is dated Naples:-- + +"And what if it be Naples! It is only the same world of cakes and ale, +of man, and truth, and folly. I will not be imposed upon by a name. +It is so easy to be overawed by names that it is hard to keep one's +judgment upright, and be pleased only after your own way. Baiae and +Pausilippo sound so big that we are ready to surrender at discretion, +and not stickle for our private opinion against what seems the human +race. But here's for the plain old Adam, the simple, genuine self +against the whole world." + +Again he says: "Nothing so fatal to genius as genius. Mr. Taylor, +author of 'Van Artevelde,' is a man of great intellect, but by study of +Shakespeare is forced to reproduce Shakespeare." + +Thus the first great lesson taught by Mr. Emerson was "self-reliance." +And the second was like it, though apparently opposed to it, +"God-reliance." Not really opposed to it, for it meant this: God is +near to your mind and heart, as he was to the mind and heart of the +prophets and inspired men of the past. God is ready to inspire you also +if you will trust in him. In the little book called "Nature" he says:-- + +"The highest is present to the soul of man; the dread universal +essence, which is not wisdom, or love, or power, or beauty, but all +in one, and each entirely, is that for which all things exist, and +by which they are. Believe that throughout nature spirit is present; +that it is one, that it does not act upon us from without, but through +ourselves.... As a plant on the earth, so man rests on the bosom +of God, nourished by unfailing fountains, and drawing at his need +inexhaustible power." + +And so in his poem called "The Problem" he teaches that all religions +are from God; that all the prophets and sibyls and lofty souls that +have sung psalms, written scripture, and built the temples and +cathedrals of men, were inspired by a spirit above their own. He puts +aside the shallow explanation that any of the great religions ever came +from priestcraft:-- + + "Out from the heart of Nature rolled + The burdens of the Bible old; + The litanies of nations came, + Like the volcano's tongue of flame, + Up from the burning core below, + The canticles of love and woe. + + "The word unto the prophet spoken + Was writ on tables yet unbroken; + The word by seers or sibyls told, + In groves of oak or fanes of gold, + Still floats upon the moving wind, + Still whispers to the willing mind. + One accent of the Holy Ghost + The heedless world hath never lost." + +In all that Emerson says of nature he is equally devout. He sees God +in it all. It is to him full of a divine charm. "In the woods," he +says, "is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God a decorum +and sanctity reigns, and we return to reason and faith." "The currents +of the Universal Being circulate through me. I am part and particle of +God." For saying such things as these he was accused of Pantheism. And +he was a Pantheist; yet only as Paul was a Pantheist when he said, "In +Him we live and move and have our being;" "From whom and through whom +are all things;" "The fullness of him who filleth all in all." Emerson +was, in his view of nature, at one with Wordsworth, who said:-- + + "The clouds were touched, + And in their silent faces he could read + Unutterable love. Sensation, soul, and form + All melted into him; they swallowed up + His animal being; in them did he live, + And by them did he live; they were his life. + In such high hour + Of visitation from the living God, + Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired." + +Emerson has thus been to our day the prophet of God in the soul, in +nature, in life. He has stood for spirit against matter. Darwin, his +great peer, the serene master in the school of science, was like him +in this,--that he also said what he saw and no more. He also taught +what God showed to him in the outward world of sense, as Emerson what +God showed in the inward world of spirit. Amid the stormy disputes of +their time, each of these men went his own way, his eye single and his +whole body full of light. The work of Darwin was the easier, for he +floated with the current of the time, which sets at present so strongly +toward the study of things seen and temporal. But the work of Emerson +was more noble, for he stands for things unseen and eternal,--for a +larger religion, a higher faith, a nobler worship. This strong and +tender soul has done its work and gone on its way. But he will always +fill a niche of the universal Church as a New England prophet. He had +the purity of the New England air in his moral nature, a touch of the +shrewd Yankee wit in his speech, and the long inheritance of ancestral +faith incarnate and consolidated in blood and brain. But to this were +added qualities which were derived from some far-off realm of human +life: an Oriental cast of thought, a touch of mediaeval mysticism, and +a vocabulary brought from books unknown to our New England literature. +No commonplaces of language are to be found in his writings, and though +he read the older writers, he does not imitate them. He, also, like +his humble-bee, has gathered contributions from remotest fields, and +enriched our language with a new and picturesque speech all his own. + +Let us, then, be grateful for this best of God's gifts,--another soul +sent to us filled with divine light. Thus we learn anew how full are +nature and life of God:-- + + "Ever fresh the broad creation, + A divine improvisation; + From the heart of God proceeds + A single will, a million deeds." + +One word concerning Mr. Emerson's relation to Christ and to +Christianity. The distinction which he made between Jesus and other +teachers was, no doubt, one of degree and not one of kind. He put no +great gulf of supernatural powers, origin, or office between Christ +and the ethnic prophets. But his reverence for Jesus was profound and +tender. Nor did he object to the word "Christian" or to the Christian +Church. In recent years, at least, he not unfrequently attended the +services of the Unitarian Church in his town, and I have met him at +Unitarian conventions, a benign and revered presence. + +In the cemetery at Bonn, on the Rhine, is the tomb of Niebuhr, the +historian, a man of somewhat like type, as I judge, to our Emerson. At +least, some texts on his monument would be admirably appropriate for +any stone which may be placed over the remains of the American prophet +and poet in the sweet valley of tombs in Concord. + +One of these texts was from Sirach xlvii. 14, 17: + + "How wise wast thou in thy youth, and as a flood filled with + understanding! + Thy soul covered the whole earth, and thou filledst it with dark + parables. + Thy name went far unto the islands, and for thy peace thou wast + beloved. + The countries marvelled at thee for thy songs and proverbs and + parables and interpretations." + +And equally appropriate would be this Horatian line, also on Niebuhr's +monument:-- + + "Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam cari capitis." + +From a lifelong friend of Emerson I have just received a letter +containing these words, which, better than most descriptions, give the +character of his soul:-- + +"And so the white wings have spread, and the great soul has left us. + + ''Tis death is dead; not he.' + +He had no vanity, no selfishness; no greed, no hate; none of the +weights that drag on common mortals. His life was an illumination; a +large, fair light; the Pharos of New England, as in other days our dear +brother called him. And this light shone further and wider the longer +it burned." + + + + +HARRIET MARTINEAU[45] + + +The whole work[46] is very interesting. How could it be otherwise, in +giving the history of so remarkable a life? The amount of literary work +which Miss Martineau performed is amazing. She began to write for the +press when she was nineteen, and continued until she could no longer +hold her pen. The pen was her sword, which she wielded with a warrior's +joy, in the conflict of truth with error, of right with wrong. She +wrote many books; but her articles in reviews and newspapers were +innumerable. We find no attempt in either part of this biography to +give a complete list of her writings. Perhaps it would be impossible. +She never seems to have thought of keeping such a record herself, any +more than a hero records the number of the blows he strikes, in battle. +No sooner had she dismissed one task than another came; and sometimes +several were going on together. Like other voluminous writers, she +enjoyed the exercise of her productive powers; and, as she somewhere +tells us, her happiest hours were those in which she was seated at her +desk with her pen. + +Her principal works cover a large range of thought and study. One of +her first books, "The Traditions of Palestine," she continued to regard +long after with more affection than any other of her writings, except +"Eastern Life." But her authorship began when she was nineteen, in an +article contributed to a Unitarian monthly. Afterwards she obtained +three separate prizes offered by the Central Unitarian Association +for three essays on different topics. About the same time she wrote +"Five Years of Youth," a tale which she never looked at afterward. But +her first great step in authorship, and that which at once made her a +power in politics and in literature, was taken when she commenced her +series of tales on "Political Economy." She began, however, to write +these stories, not knowing that she was treating questions of Political +Economy, "the very name of which," she says, "was then either unknown +to me, or conveyed no meaning." She was then about twenty-five years +old. She had the usual difficulties with various publishers which +unknown authors are sure to experience, and these tales, which became +so popular, were rejected by one firm after another. One of them was +refused by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, as being +too dull. The president of that Society, Lord Brougham, afterward +vented his rage on the sub-committee which rejected the offered story, +and so had permitted their Society, "instituted for that very purpose, +to be driven out of the field by a little deaf woman at Norwich." +At last a publisher was found who agreed to take the books on very +unsatisfactory terms. As soon as the first number appeared, the success +of the series was established. A second edition of five thousand copies +was immediately called for,--the entire periodical press came out in +favor of the tales,--and from that hour Miss Martineau had only to +choose what to write, sure that it would at once find a publisher. + +She was at this time thirty years old. She was already deaf, her health +poor; but she then began a career of intellectual labor seldom equaled +by the strongest man through the longest life. She began to write every +morning after breakfast; and, unless when traveling, seldom passed a +morning during the rest of her life without writing,--working from +eight o'clock until two. Her method was, after selecting her subject, +to procure all the standard works upon it, and study them. She then +proceeded to make the plan of her work, and to draw the outline of her +story. If the scene was laid abroad, she procured books of travels and +topography. Then she drew up the contents of each chapter in detail, +and, after this preliminary labor, the story was written easily and +with joy. + +Of these stories she wrote thirty-four in two years and a half. She +was then thirty-two. She received L2,000 for the whole series,--a +sufficiently small compensation,--but she established her position +and her fame. Her principal books published afterward were her two +works on America, the novels "Deerbrook" and "The Hour and the Man;" +nine volumes of tales on the Forest and Game Laws; four stories in the +"Playfellow;" "Life in the Sick-Room;" "Letters on Mesmerism;" "Eastern +Life, Past and Present;" "History of England during the Thirty Years' +Peace;" "Letters on the Laws of Man's Social Nature and Development;" +"Translation and Condensation of Comte's Positive Philosophy;" besides +many smaller works, making fifty-two titles in Allibone. In addition +to this, she wrote many articles in reviews and magazines; and Mrs. +Chapman mentions that she sent to a single London journal, the "Daily +News," sixteen hundred articles, at the rate sometimes of six a week. +Surely Harriet Martineau was one who worked faithfully while her day +endured. + +But, if we would do her justice, we must consider also the motive and +spirit in which she worked. Each thing she did had for its purpose +nothing merely personal, but some good to mankind. Though there was +nothing in her character of the sentimentalism of philanthropy, she was +filled with the spirit of philanthropy. A born reformer, she inherited +from her Huguenot and her Unitarian ancestors the love of truth and the +hatred of error, with the courage which was ready to avow her opinions, +however unpopular. Thus, her work was warfare, and every article or +book which she printed was a blow delivered against some flagrant +wrong, or what she believed such,--in defense of some struggling truth, +or something supposed to be truth. She might be mistaken; but her +purposes through life were, in the main, noble, generous, and good. + +And there can be no question of her ability, moral and intellectual. +No commonplace mind could have overcome such obstacles and achieved +such results. Apparently she had no very high opinion of her own +intellectual powers. She denies that she possesses genius; but +she asserts her own power. She criticises "Deerbrook" with some +severity. And, in fact, Harriet Martineau's mind is analytic rather +than creative; it is strong rather than subtle; and, if it possesses +imagination, it is of rather a prosaic kind. Her intellect is of +a curiously masculine order; no other female writer was ever less +feminine. With all her broad humanity she has little sympathy for +individuals. A large majority of those whom she mentions in her memoirs +she treats with a certain contempt. + +Her early life seems to have been very sad. We are again and again +told how she was misunderstood and maltreated in her own home. Her +health was bad until she was thirty; partly owing, as she supposed, to +ill-treatment. She needed affection, and was treated with sternness. +Justice she did not receive, nor kindness, and her heart was soured +and her temper spoiled, so she tells us, by this mismanagement. As she +does not specify, or give us the details of this ill-treatment, the +story is useless as a warning; and we hardly see the reason for thus +publishing the wrongs of her childhood. As children may be sometimes +unjust to parents, no less than parents to children, the facts and the +moral are both left uncertain. And, on the whole, her chief reason for +telling the story appears to be the mental necessity she was under of +judging and sentencing those from whom she supposes herself to have +received ill-treatment in any part of her life. + +This is indeed the most painful feature of the work before us. Knowing +the essentially generous and just spirit of Harriet Martineau, it is +strange to see how carefully she has loaded this piece of artillery +with explosive and lacerating missiles, to be discharged after her +death among those with whom she had mingled in social intercourse or +literary labors. Some against whom she launches her sarcasms are still +living; some are dead, but have left friends behind, to be wounded +by her caustic judgments. Is it that her deficiency in a woman's +sensibility, or the absence of a poetic imagination, prevented her from +realizing the suffering she would inflict? Or is it the habit of mind +from which those are apt to suffer who devote themselves to the reform +of abuses? As each kind of manual occupation exposes the workman to +some special disease,--as those who dig canals suffer from malaria, +and file-grinders from maladies of the lungs,--so it seems that each +moral occupation has its appropriate moral danger. Clergymen are apt +to be dogmatic or sectarian; lawyers become sharp and sophistical; +musicians and artists are irritable; and the danger of a reformer is of +becoming a censorious critic of those who cannot accept his methods, or +who will not join his party. That Harriet Martineau did not escape this +risk will presently appear. + +While writing her politico-economical stories she moved to London, +and there exchanged the quiet seclusion of her Norwich life for +social triumphs of the first order, and intercourse with every kind +of celebrity. All had read her books, from Victoria, who was then a +little girl perusing them with her governess, to foreign kings and +savants of the highest distinction. So this young author--for she was +only thirty--was received at once into the most brilliant circles of +London society. But it does not appear that she lost a single particle +of her dignity or self-possession. Among the great she neither asserted +herself too much nor showed too much deference. Vanity was not her +foible; and her head was too solidly set upon her shoulders to be +turned by such successes. She enjoyed the society of these people of +superior refinement, rank, and culture, but did not come to depend upon +it; and in all this Harriet Martineau sinned not in her spirit. + +But why, in writing about these people long afterward, should she have +thought it necessary to produce such sharp and absolute sentences on +each and all? Into this judgment-hall of Osiris-Martineau, every one +whom she has ever known is called up to receive his final doom. The +poor Unitarian ministers, who had taught the child as they best could, +are dismissed with contemptuous severity. This religious instruction +had certainly done her some good. Religion, she admits, was her best +resource till she wrought her way to something better. Ann Turner, +daughter of the Unitarian minister, gave her piety a practical turn, +and when afraid of every one she saw, she was not at all afraid of God; +and, on the whole, she says religion was a great comfort and pleasure +to her. Nevertheless, she is astonished that Unitarians should believe +that they are giving their children a Christian education. She accuses +these teachers of her childhood of altering the Scripture to suit their +own notions; being apparently ignorant that most of the interpolations +or mistranslations of which they complained have since been conceded +as such by the best Orthodox critics. But she does not hesitate to +give her opinion of all her old acquaintances in the frankest manner, +and for the most part it is unfavorable. Mrs. Opie and Mrs. John +Taylor are among the "mere pedants." William Taylor, from want of +truth and conviction, talked blasphemy. She speaks with contempt of a +physician who politely urged her to come and dine with him, because +he had neglected her until she became famous. Lord Brougham was +"vain and selfish, low in morals, and unrestrained in temper." Lord +Campbell was "flattering to an insulting degree;" Archbishop Whately, +"odd and overbearing," "sometimes rude and tiresome," and "singularly +overrated;" Stanley, Bishop of Norwich, "timid," "sensitive," +"heedless," "without courage or dignity." Macaulay "talked nonsense" +about the copyright bill, and "set at naught every principle of +justice in regard to authors' earnings." Macaulay's opposition to that +bill was based on such grounds of perfect justice that he defeated +it single-handed. But Harriet Martineau decided then and there that +Macaulay was a failure, and that "he wanted heart," and that he "never +has achieved any complete success." The poet Campbell had "a morbid +craving for praise." As to women, Lady Morgan, Lady Davy, Mrs. Jameson, +Mrs. Austin, "may make women blush and men be insolent" with their +"gross and palpable vanities." Landseer was a toady to great people. +Morpeth had "evident weaknesses." Sir Charles Bell showed his ignorance +by relying on the argument for Design. The resources of Eastlake were +very _bornes_. John Sterling "rudely ignored me." Lady Mary Shepherd +was "a pedant." Coleridge, she asserts, will only be remembered as a +warning; though twenty years ago she, Miss Martineau, "regarded him +as a poet." Godwin was "timid." Basil Montagu was "cowardly;" and Lord +Monteagle "agreeable enough to those who were not particular about +sincerity." Urquhart had "insane egotism and ferocious discontent." The +Howitts made "an unintelligible claim to my friendship," their "tempers +are turbulent and unreasonable." It may be some explanation of this +unintelligible claim that it was heard through her trumpet. Fredrika +Bremer is accused of habits of "flattery" and "a want of common sense." +Miss Mitford is praised, but then accused of a "habit of flattery," +and blamed for her "disparagement of others." And it is Miss Martineau +who brings this charge! She also tells us that Miss Bremer "proposes +to reform the world by a floating religiosity," whatever that may be. +But perhaps her severest sentence is pronounced on the Kembles, who +are accused of "incurable vulgarity" and "unreality." In this case, +as in others, Miss Martineau pronounces this public censure on those +whom she had learned to know in the intimacy of private friendship and +personal confidence. She thus violates the rules rather ostentatiously +laid down in her Introduction. For she claims there that she practices +self-denial in interdicting the publication of her letters,[47] and +gives her reasons thus: "Epistolary conversation is written speech; +and the _onus_ rests with those who publish it to show why the laws of +honor, which are uncontested in regard to conversation, may be violated +when the conversation is written instead of spoken." Most of her sharp +judgments above quoted are pronounced on those whom she learned to +know in the private intercourse of society. Sometimes she recites the +substance of what she heard (or supposed that she heard; for she used +an ear-tube when she first went to live in London). Thus she tells +about a conversation with Wordsworth, and reports his complaints of +Jeffrey and other reviewers, and quotes him as saying about one of his +own poems, that it was "a chain of very _valooable_ thoughts." "You +see, it does not best fulfill the conditions of poetry; but it is" +(solemnly) "a chain of extremely valooable thoughts." She then proceeds +to pronounce her sentence on Wordsworth as she did on Coleridge. She +felt at once, she says, in Wordsworth's works, "the absence of sound, +accurate, weighty thought, and of genuine poetic inspiration." She +also informs us that "the very basis of philosophy is absent in him," +and that it is only necessary "to open Shelley, Tennyson, or even poor +Keats ... to feel that, with all their truth and all their charm, few +of Wordsworth's pieces are poems." "_Even poor Keats!_" This is her +_de haut en bas_ style of criticism on Wordsworth, one of whose poems +is generally accepted as the finest written in the English language +during the last hundred years. And this is her way of respecting "the +code of honor" in regard to private conversation! + +In 1834, at the age of thirty-two, Harriet Martineau sailed for the +United States, where she remained two years. She went for rest; but +the quantity of work done in those two years would have been enough +to fill five or six years of any common life. At this point she began +a new career; forming new ties, engaging in new duties, studying new +problems, and beginning a new activity in another sphere of labor. The +same great qualities which she had hitherto displayed showed themselves +here again; accompanied with their corresponding defects. Her wonderful +power of study enabled her to enter into the very midst of the +phenomena of American life; her noble generosity induced her to throw +herself heart, hand, and mind into the greatest struggle then waging +on the face of the earth. The antislavery question, which the great +majority of people of culture despised or disliked, took possession +of her soul. She became one of the party of Abolitionists, of which +Mr. Garrison was the chief, and lived to see that party triumph in the +downfall of slavery. She took her share of the hatred or the scorn +heaped on that fiery body of zealous propagandists, and was counted +worthy of belonging to what she herself called "the Martyr Age of the +United States." + +Fortunately for herself, before she visited Boston, and became +acquainted with the Abolitionists, she went to Washington, and traveled +somewhat extensively in the Southern States. At Washington she saw many +eminent Southern senators, who cordially invited her to visit them at +their homes. In South Carolina she was welcomed or introduced by Mr. +Calhoun, Governor Hayne, and Colonel Preston. Judge Porter took charge +of her in Louisiana. In Kentucky she was the guest of Mrs. Irwin, Henry +Clay's daughter and neighbor. Without fully accepting Mrs. Chapman's +somewhat sweeping assertion that there was no eminent statesman, man +of science, politician, partisan, philanthropist, jurist, professor, +merchant, divine, nor distinguished woman, in the whole land, who did +not pay her homage, there is no doubt that she received the respect +and good-will of many such. She was deeply impressed, she says, on +arriving in the United States, with a society basking in one bright +sunshine of good-will. She thought the New Englanders, perhaps, the +best people in the world. Many well-known names appear in these pages, +as soon becoming intimate acquaintances or friends; among these were +Judge Story, John G. Palfrey, Stephen C. Phillips, the Gilmans of South +Carolina, Mr. and Mrs. Furness of Philadelphia, and in Massachusetts +the Sedgwicks, the Follens, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray Loring, Mr. and +Mrs. Charles G. Loring, Dr. Channing, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Ware, Dr. +Flint of Salem, and Ephraim Peabody. + +When Miss Martineau had identified herself with Mr. Garrison and his +friends by taking part in their meetings, those who had merely sought +her on account of her position and reputation naturally fell away. But +it may be doubted whether she was in such danger of being mobbed or +murdered as she and her editor suppose. She seems to think that Mr. +Henry Ware did a very brave deed in driving to Mr. Francis Jackson's +house to take her home from an antislavery meeting. She speaks of +the reign of terror which existed in Boston at that time. No doubt +she, and other Abolitionists, had their share of abuse; but it is not +probable that any persons were, as she thought, plotting against her +life. She and her friends were deterred from taking a proposed journey +to Cincinnati and Louisville by being informed that it was intended +to mob her in the first city and to hang her in the second. Now, the +writer of this article was at that time residing in Louisville, and +though antislavery discussions and antislavery lectures had taken +place there about that period, and though antislavery articles not +unfrequently appeared in the city journals, no objection or opposition +was made to all this by anybody in that place. In fact, it was easier +at that time to speak against slavery in Louisville than in Boston. The +leading people in Kentucky of all parties were then openly opposed +to slavery, and declared their hope and purpose of making Kentucky a +free State. A year later, Dr. Channing published his work on slavery, +which was denounced for its abolitionism by the "Boston Statesman," and +sharply criticised in a pamphlet by the Massachusetts attorney-general. +But copious extracts from this work, especially of the parts which +exposed the sophisms of the defenders of slavery, were published in +a Louisville magazine, and not the least objection was made to it in +that city. At a later period it might have been different, though an +antislavery paper was published in Louisville as late as 1845, one of +the editors being a native Kentuckian. + +After her return from the United States she published her two works, +"Society in America," and "Retrospect of Western Travel;" and then +wrote her first novel, "Deerbrook." The books on America were perhaps +the best then written by any foreigner except De Tocqueville. They +were generous, honest, kind, and utterly frank,--they were full of +capital descriptions of American scenery. She spoke the truth to us, +and she spoke it in love. The chief fault in these works was her tone +of dogmatism, and her _ex cathedra_ judgments; which, as we have before +hinted, are among the defects of her qualities. + +In 1838, when thirty-six years old, she was taken with serious illness, +which confined her to her room for six years. She attributes this +illness to her anxiety about her aged aunt and mother. Her mother, +she tells us, was irritable on account of Miss Martineau's fame and +position in society; in short, she was jealous of her daughter's +success. Miss Martineau was obliged to sit up late after midnight to +mend her own clothes, as she was not allowed to have a maid or to hire +a working-woman, even at her own expense. How she could have been +prevented is difficult to see, especially as she was the money-making +member of the family. It seems hardly worth while to give us this +glimpse into domestic difficulties. But, no doubt, she is quite correct +in adding, as another reason for her illness, the toils which were +breaking her down. The strongest men could hardly bear such a strain on +the nervous system without giving way. + +And here comes in the important episode of Mr. Atkinson, mesmerism, +and the New Philosophy. She believes that she was cured of a disease, +pronounced incurable by the regular physicians, by mesmerism. By this +she means the influence exerted upon her by certain manipulations +from another person. And as long as we are confessedly so ignorant +of nervous diseases, there seems no reason to question the facts to +which Miss Martineau testifies. She was, there is little doubt, cured +by these manipulations; what the power was which wrought through them +remains to be ascertained. + +In regard to Mr. Atkinson and his philosophy, accepted by her with +such satisfaction, and which henceforth became the master-light of +all her seeing, our allotted space will allow us only to speak very +briefly. The results of this new mental departure could not but disturb +and afflict many of her friends, to whom faith in God, Christ, and +immortality was still dear. To Miss Martineau herself, however, her +disbelief in these seemed a happy emancipation. She carried into the +assertion of her new and unpopular ideas the same honesty and courage +she had always shown, and also the same superb dogmatism and contempt +for those who differed from her. Apparently it was always to her an +absolute impossibility to imagine herself wrong when she had once +come to a conclusion. In theory she might conceive it possible to be +mistaken, but practically she felt herself infallible. The following +examples will show how she speaks, throughout her biography, of those +who held the opinions she had rejected. + +Miss Martineau, being a Necessarian, says, "All the best minds I know +are Necessarians; all, indeed, who are qualified to discuss the subject +at all." "The very smallest amount of science is enough to enable any +rational being to see that the constitution and action of will are +determined by the influences beyond the control of the possessor of +the faculty." She adds, that for more than thirty years she has seen +how awful "are the evils which arise from that monstrous remnant of +old superstition,--the supposition of a self-determining power, etc." +Now, among those she had intimately known were Dr. Channing and James +Martineau, neither of them believing in the doctrine of Necessity. + +Speaking of Christianity, after she had rejected it, she calls it +"a monstrous superstition." Elsewhere she speaks of "the Christian +superstition of the contemptible nature of the body;" says that +"Christians deprave their moral sense;" talks of "the selfish +complacencies of religion," and of "the atmosphere of selfishness which +is the very life of Christian doctrine and of every other theological +scheme;" speaks of "the Christian mythology as a superstition which +fails to make happy, fails to make good, fails to make wise, and +has become as great an obstacle in the way of progress as the prior +mythologies it took the place of." "For three centuries it has been +undermined, and its overthrow completely decided." Thus easily does she +settle the question of Christianity. + +Miss Martineau ceased to believe in immortality; and immediately all +believers in immortality became, to her mind, selfish or stupid, or +both. "I neither wish to live longer here," she says, "nor to find +life again elsewhere. It seems to me simply absurd to expect it, and +a mere act of restricted human imagination and morality to conceive +of it." There is "a total absence of evidence for a renewed life." +"I myself utterly disbelieve in a future life." She would submit, +though reluctantly, to live again, if compelled to. "If I find myself +conscious after the lapse of life, it will be all right, of course; +but, as I said, the supposition appears to me absurd." + +Under the instructions of Mr. Atkinson, Miss Martineau ceased to +believe in a personal God, or any God but an unknown First Cause, +identical with the Universe. The argument for Design, on which Mr. John +Stuart Mill, for instance, lays such stress, seemed to her "puerile +and unphilosophical." The God of Christians she calls an "invisible +idol." He "who does justice to his own faculties" must give up "the +personality of the First Cause." She considered the religion in her +"Life in the Sick-Room" to have been "insincere;" which we, who know +the perfect honesty of Harriet Martineau, must take the liberty to +deny. Though declaring herself to be no Atheist, because she believes +in an unknown and unknowable First Cause, she regards philosophical +Atheists as the best people she had ever known, and was delighted in +finding herself unacquainted with God, and so at peace. + +It is curious to read these "Letters on the Laws of Man's Nature and +Development," of which Harriet Martineau and Mr. Atkinson are the joint +authors. The simple joy with which they declare themselves the proud +discoverers of this happy land of the unknowable is almost touching. +All that we know, say they, is matter or its manifestation. "Mind +is the product of the brain," and "the brain is not, as even some +phrenologists have asserted, the instrument of the mind." The brain +is the source of consciousness, will, reason. Man is "a creature of +necessity." "It seems certain that mind, or the conditions essential +to mind, is evolved from gray vesicular matter." "Nothing in nature +indicates a future life." "Knowledge recognizes that nothing can be +free, or by chance; no, not even God,--God is the substance of Law." +Whereupon Miss Martineau inquires whether Mr. Atkinson, in speaking of +God, did not merely use another name for Law. "We know nothing beyond +law, do we?" asks this meek disciple, seeking for information. Mr. +Atkinson replies that we must assume some fundamental principle "as a +thing essential, though unknown; and it is this which I wrongly enough +perhaps termed God." But if it is wrong to call this principle God, +and if they know nothing else behind phenomena, why do they complain +so bitterly at being charged with Atheism? And directly Mr. Atkinson +asserts that "Philosophy finds no God in nature; no personal being or +creator, nor sees the want of any." "A Creator after the likeness of +man" he affirms to be "an impossibility." For, though he professes to +know _nothing_ about God, he somehow contrives to know that God is +_not_ what others believe him to be. Eternal sleep after death he +professes to be the only hope of a wise man. The idea of free-will +is so absurd that it "would make a Democritus fall on his back and +roar with laughter." "Christianity is neither reasonable nor moral." +Miss Martineau responds that "deep and sweet" is her repose in the +conviction that "there is no theory of God, of an author of Nature, +of an origin of the Universe, which is not utterly repugnant to my +faculties; which is not (to my feelings) so irreverent as to make me +blush, so misleading as to make me mourn." And thus do the apostle and +the disciple go on, triumphantly proclaiming their own limitations to +the end of the volume. + +And yet the effect of this book is by no means wholly disagreeable. To +be sure, in their constant assertions of the "impossibility" of any +belief but their own being true, their honest narrowness may often be +a little amusing. They seem like two eyeless fish in the recesses of +the darkness of the Mammoth Cave talking to each other of the absurdity +of believing in any sun or upper world. But they are so honest, so +sincere, so much in love with Truth, and so free from any self-seeking, +that we find it easy to sympathize with their naive sense of discovery, +as they go sounding on their dim and perilous way. Only we cannot +but think what a disappointment it must be to Harriet Martineau to +find herself alive again in the other world. In her case, as Mr. +Wentworth Higginson acutely remarks, we are deprived of the pleasure +of sympathizing with her gladness at discovering her mistake, since +another life will be to her a disagreeable as well as an unforeseen +event. + +Nor is it extraordinary, to those who trace Harriet Martineau's +intellectual history, that she should have fallen into these melancholy +conclusions. In her childhood and youth, most of the Unitarians of +England, followers of Priestley, adopted his philosophy of materialism +and necessity. Priestley did not believe in a soul, but trusted for +a future life to the resurrection of the body. He was also a firm +believer in philosophical necessity. An active and logical mind like +Miss Martineau's, destitute of the keenness and profundity which +belonged to that of her brother James, might very naturally arrive at +a disbelief in anything but matter and its phenomena. From ignorance +of these facts, Mrs. Chapman expresses surprise that the inconsistency +of Harriet Martineau's belief in necessity, with other parts of +her Unitarianism, "should not have struck herself, her judges, or +the denomination at large." It _would_ have been inconsistent with +American Unitarianism, but it was not foreign from the views of English +Unitarians at that time. + +The publication of these "Letters" naturally caused pain to religious +people, and especially to those of them who had known and honored Miss +Martineau for her many past services in the cause of human freedom and +progress. Many of these were Unitarians and Unitarian ministers, who +had been long proud of her as a member of their denomination and one of +their most valued co-workers. It seemed necessary for them to declare +their dissent from her new views, and this dissent was expressed in an +article in the "Prospective Review," written by her own brother, James +Martineau. Mrs. Chapman now makes known, what has hitherto been only +a matter of conjecture, that this review gave such serious offense +to Miss Martineau that she from that time refused to recognize her +brother or to have any further communication with him. Mrs. Chapman, +who seldom or never finds her heroine in the wrong, justifies and +approves her conduct also here, quoting a passage from the review in +support of Miss Martineau's conduct in treating her brother as one of +"the defamers of old times whom she must never again meet." In this +passage Mr. Martineau only expresses his profound grief that his sister +should sit at the feet of such a master as Mr. Atkinson, and lay down +at his bidding her early faith in moral obligation, in the living God, +in the immortal sanctities. He calls this "an inversion of the natural +order of nobleness," implying that Mr. Atkinson ought to have sat at +her feet instead; and, turning to the review itself, we find this the +only passage in which a single word is said which could be regarded as +a censure on Miss Martineau. But Mr. Atkinson is indeed handled with +some severity. His language is criticised, and his logic is proved +fallacious. Much the largest part of the review is, however, devoted to +a refutation of his philosophy and doctrines. Now, as so large a part +of the "Letters" is pervaded with denunciations of the bigotry which +will not hear the other side of a question, and filled with admiration +of those who prefer truth to the ties of kindred, friendship, and old +association, we should have thought that Miss Martineau would rejoice +in having a brother who could say, "Amica Harriet, sed magis amica +veritas." Not at all. It was evident that he had said nothing about +herself at which she could take offense; but in speaking against +her new philosophy and her new philosopher he had committed the +unpardonable sin. And Mrs. Chapman allows herself to regard it as a +natural inference that this honest and manly review resulted from +"masculine terror, fraternal jealousy of superiority, with a sectarian +and provincial impulse to pull down and crush a world-wide celebrity." +She considers it "incomprehensible in an advocate of free thought" that +he should express his thoughts freely in opposition to a book which +argued against all possible knowledge of God and against all faith in +a future life. It is, however, only just to Miss Martineau to say that +she herself has brought no such charges against her brother, but left +the matter in silence. We cannot but think that it would have been +better for Miss Martineau's reputation if her biographer had followed +her example. + +But, though we must object to Mrs. Chapman's views on this point, and +on some others, we must add that her part of the second volume is +prepared with much ability, and is evidently the result of diligent +and loyal friendship. Miss Martineau could not have selected a more +faithful friend to whom to confide the history of her life. On two +subjects, however, we are obliged to dissent from her statements. +One is in regard to Dr. Channing, whom she, for some unknown reason, +systematically disparages. He was a good man, Mrs. Chapman admits, +"but not in any sense a great one. With benevolent intentions, he +could not greatly help the nineteenth century, for he knew very little +about it, or, indeed, of any other. He had neither insight, courage, +nor firmness. In his own Church had sprung up a vigorous opposition to +slavery, which he innocently, in so far as ignorantly, used the little +strength he had to stay." Certainly it is not necessary to defend the +memory of Dr. Channing against such a supercilious judgment as this. +But we might well ask why, if he is not a great man, and did not help +the nineteenth century, his works should continue to be circulated all +over Europe? Why should such men in France as Laboulaye and Remusat +occupy themselves in translating and diffusing them? Why should +Bunsen class him among the five prophets of the Divine Consciousness +in Human History,--speaking of "his fearless speech," his "unfailing +good sense," and "his grandeur of soul, which makes him a prophet +of the Christianity of the Future"? Bunsen calls him a Greek in his +manly nature, a Roman in his civic qualities, and an apostle in his +Christianity. And was that man deficient in courage or firmness who +never faltered in the support of any opinions, however unpopular, +whether it was to defend Unitarianism in its weak beginnings, to appear +in Faneuil Hall as the leader against the defenders of the Alton mob, +to head the petition for the pardon of Abner Kneeland, and to lay on +the altar of antislavery the fame acquired by past labors? Is he to be +accused of repressing the antislavery movement in his own church, when +there is on record the letter in which he advocated giving the use of +the church building to the society represented by Mrs. Chapman herself; +and when the men of influence in his society refused it? Nor, in those +days of their unpopularity, did Mrs. Chapman and her friends count +Dr. Channing's aid so insignificant. In her article on "The Martyr +Age," Miss Martineau describes the profound impression caused by Dr. +Channing's sudden appearance in the State House to give his countenance +and aid to Garrison and the Abolitionists, in what, she says, was a +matter to them of life and death. And she adds, "He was thenceforth +considered by the world an accession to their principles, though not to +their organized body." + +Nor do we quite understand Mrs. Chapman's giving to Miss Martineau +the credit of being the cause of the petition for the pardon of Abner +Kneeland; as his conviction, and the consequent petition, did not take +place until she had been nearly two years out of the country. And why +does Mrs. Chapman select for special contempt, as unfaithful to their +duty to mankind, the Unitarian ministers? Why does she speak of "the +cowardly ranks of American Unitarians" with such peculiar emphasis? It +is not our business here to defend this denomination; but we cannot +but recall the "Protest against American Slavery" prepared and signed +in 1845 by one hundred and seventy-three Unitarian ministers, out of +a body containing not more than two hundred and fifty in all. And it +was this body which furnished to the cause some of its most honored +members. Of those who have belonged to the Unitarian body, we now +recall the names of such persons as Samuel J. May, Samuel May, Josiah +Quincy, John Quincy Adams, John Pierpont, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray +Loring, John G. Palfrey, John P. Hale, Dr. and Mrs. Follen, Theodore +Parker, John Parkman, John T. Sargent, James Russell Lowell, Wm. H. +Furness, Charles Sumner, Caleb Stetson, John A. Andrew, Lydia Maria +Child, Dr. S. G. Howe, Horace Mann, T. W. Higginson. So much for the +"cowardly ranks of American Unitarians." + +The last years of Miss Martineau were happy and peaceful. She had a +pleasant home at Ambleside, on Lake Windermere. She had many friends, +was conscious of having done a good work, and if she had no hopes in +the hereafter, neither had she any fears concerning it. She was a +strong, upright, true-hearted woman; one of those who have helped to +vindicate "the right of women to learn the alphabet." + + + + +THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA[48] + + +On the first day of January, 1832, when the American Antislavery +Society was formed in the office of Samuel E. Sewall in Boston, the +abolition of slavery through any such agency seemed impossible. Almost +all the great interests of the country were combined to defend and +sustain the system. The capital invested in slaves amounted to at +least one thousand millions of dollars. This vast pecuniary interest +was rapidly increasing by the growing demand for the cotton crop +of the Southern States--a demand which continually overlapped the +supply. The whole political power of the thirteen slave States was in +the hands of the slaveholders. No white man in the South, unless he +was a slaveholder, was ever elected to Congress, or to any important +political position at home. The two great parties, Whig and Democrat, +were pledged to the support of slavery in all its constitutional +rights, and vied with each other in giving to these the largest +interpretation. By a constitutional provision, which could not be +altered, the slave States had in Congress, in 1840, twenty-five more +Representatives in proportion to their number of voters than the free +States. By the cohesion of this great political and pecuniary interest +the slaveholders, though comparatively few in number, were able to +govern the nation. The Presidents, both houses of Congress, the Supreme +Court of the United States, the two great political parties, the press +of the country, the mercantile interest, and that mysterious force +which we call society, were virtually in the hands of the slaveholders. +Whenever their privileges were attacked, all these powers rallied to +their defense. Public opinion, in the highest circles of society and in +the lowest, was perfectly agreed on this one question. The saloons of +the Fifth Avenue and the mob of the Five Points were equally loyal to +the sacred cause of slavery. Thus all the great powers which control +free states were combined for its defense; and the attempt to assail +this institution might justly be regarded as madness. In fact, all +danger seemed so remote, that even so late as 1840 it was common for +slaveholders to admit that property in man was an absurdity and an +injustice. The system itself was so secure, that they could afford to +concede its principle to their opponents. Just as men formerly fought +duels as a matter of course, while frankly admitting that it was wrong +to do so,--just as at the present time we concede that war is absurd +and unchristian, but yet go to war continually, because we know no +other way of settling international disputes,--so the slaveholders used +to say, "Slavery is wrong; we know that: but how is it to be abolished? +What can we do about it?" + +Such was the state of things in the United States less than half a +century ago. On one side was an enormous pecuniary interest, vast +political power, the weight of the press, an almost unanimous public +opinion, the necessities of commerce, the authority of fashion, the +teachings of nearly every denomination in the Christian church, and the +moral obligations attributed to the sacred covenants of the fathers of +the Republic. On the other side there were only a few voices crying in +the wilderness, "It is unjust to claim property in man." The object of +the work before us is to show how, after the slave power had reached +this summit of influence, it lost it all in a single generation; how, +less by the zeal of its opponents than by the madness of its defenders, +this enormous fabric of oppression was undermined and overthrown; and +how, in a few years, the insignificant handful of antislavery people +brought to their side the great majority of the nation. + +Certainly a work which should do justice to such a history would be +one of the most interesting books ever written. For in this series of +events everything was involved which touches most nearly the mind, the +conscience, the imagination, and the heart of man. How many radical +problems in statesmanship, in political economy, in ethics, in +philosophy, in theology, in history, in science, came up for discussion +during this long controversy! What pathetic stories of suffering, what +separation of families, what tales of torture, what cruelty grown into +a custom, what awful depths of misery, came continually to light, as +though the judgment-day were beginning to dawn on the dark places of +the earth! What romances of adventure, what stories of courage and +endurance, of ingenuity in contrivance, of determination of soul, were +listened to by breathless audiences as related by the humble lips +of the fugitives from bondage! How trite and meagre became all the +commonplaces of oratory before the flaming eloquence of these terrible +facts! How tame grew all the conventional rhetoric of pulpit and +platform, by the side of speech vitalized by the immediate presence of +this majestic argument! The book which should reproduce the antislavery +history of those thirty years would possess an unimagined charm. + +We cannot say that Mr. Wilson's volumes do all this, nor had we any +right to expect it. He proposes to himself nothing of the sort. What +he gives us is, however, of very great value. It is a very carefully +collected, clearly arranged, and accurate account of the rise and +progress, decline and catastrophe, of slavery in the United States. +Mr. Wilson does not attempt to be philosophical like Bancroft and +Draper; nor are his pages as picturesque as are those of Motley and +Carlyle. He tells us a plain unvarnished tale, the interest of which +is to be found in the statement of the facts exactly as they occurred. +Considering that it is a story of events all of which he saw and a +large part of which he was, there is a singular absence of prejudice. +He is no man's enemy. He has passed through the fire, and there is no +smell of smoke on his garments. An intelligent indignation against +the crimes committed in defense of the system he describes pervades +his narrative. His impartiality is not indifference, but an absence +of personal rancor. Individuals and their conduct are criticised only +so far as is necessary to make clear the course of events and the +condition of public feeling. The defenders of slavery at the North and +South are regarded not as bad men, but as the outcome of a bad system. + +Mr. Wilson's book is a treasury of facts, and will never be superseded +so far as this peculiar value is concerned. In this respect it somewhat +resembles Hildreth's "History of the United States." Taking little +space for speculation, comment, or picturesque coloring, there is all +the more room left for the steady flow of the narrative. + +With a few unimportant omissions, the two volumes now published +contain a full history of slavery and antislavery from the Ordinance +of 1787 and the compromises of the Constitution down to the election +of Lincoln and the outbreak of the civil war. As a work of reference +they are invaluble, for each event in the long struggle for freedom +is distinctly and accurately told, while the calm story advances +through its various stages. Instead of following this narrative in +detail, which our space will not allow, we prefer to call our readers' +attention to some of the more striking incidents of this great +revolution. + +Our fathers, when they founded the nation, had little thought that +slavery was ever to attain such vast extension. They supposed that it +would gradually die out from the South, as it had disappeared from +the North. Yet the whole danger to their work lay here. Slavery, if +anything, was the wedge which was to split the Union asunder. When the +Constitution was formed, in 1787, the slaveholders, by dint of great +effort, succeeded in getting the little end of the wedge inserted. +It was very narrow, a mere sharp line, and it went in only a very +little way; so it seemed to be nothing at all. The slaveholders +at that time did not contend that slavery was right or good. They +admitted that it was a political evil. They confessed, many of them, +that it was a moral evil. All the great Southern revolutionary bodies +had accustomed themselves to believe in the rights of man, in the +principles of humanity, in the blessings of liberty; and they could +not _defend_ slavery. Mason of Virginia, in the debates in the Federal +Convention, denounced slavery and the slave-trade. "The evil of +slavery," said he, "affects the whole Union. Slavery discourages arts +and manufactures. The poor despise labor when done by slaves. They +prevent the immigration of whites, who really enrich a country. They +produce the most pernicious effects on the manners. Every master of +slaves is born a petty tyrant. They bring the judgment of Heaven on a +country." Williamson of North Carolina declared himself in principle +and practice opposed to slavery. Madison "thought it wrong to admit +in the Constitution the idea that there could be property in man." +But the extreme Southern States, South Carolina and Georgia, insisted +on the right of importing slaves, at least for a little while; and so +they were allowed to import them for twenty years. They also insisted +on having their slaves represented by themselves in Congress, and so +they were allowed to count three fifths of the slaves in determining +the ratio. This seemed a small thing, but it was the entering of the +wedge. It was tolerating the principle of slavery; not admitting it, +but tolerating it. At the same time that this Convention was forming, +the Federal Constitution Congress was prohibiting slavery in all the +territory northwest of the Ohio. This prohibition of slavery was +adopted by the unanimous votes of the eight States present, including +Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia. Two years later it was recognized +and confirmed by the first Congress under the Constitution. Jefferson, +a commissioner to revise the statute law of Virginia, prepared a +bill for gradual emancipation in that State. In 1790 a petition was +presented to Congress, signed by Benjamin Franklin, the last public act +of his life, declaring equal liberty to be the birthright of all, and +asking Congress to "devise means for restoring liberty to the slaves, +and so removing this inconsistency from the character of the American +people." In 1804 the people of Virginia petitioned Congress to have +the Ordinance of 1787 suspended, that they might hold slaves; but a +committee of Congress, of which John Randolph of Virginia was chairman, +reported that it would be "highly dangerous and inexpedient to impair a +provision wisely calculated to promote the happiness and prosperity of +the Northwest Territory." + +But in 1820 the first heavy blow came on the wedge to drive it into the +log. The Union is a tough log, and the wedge could be driven a good way +in without splitting it; but the first blow which drove it in was the +adopting the Missouri Compromise, allowing slavery to come North and +take possession of Missouri. + +The thirty years of prosperity which had followed the adoption of the +Constitution had changed the feelings of men both North and South. The +ideas of the Revolution had receded into the background; the thirst +for wealth and power had taken their place. So the Southern States, +which had cordially agreed thirty years before to prohibit the +extension of slavery, and had readily admitted it to be a political +evil, now demanded as a right the privilege of carrying slaves into +Missouri. They threatened to dissolve the Union, talked of a fire only +to be extinguished by seas of blood, and proposed to hang a member +from New Hampshire who spoke of liberty. Some of the Northern men +were not frightened by these threats, and valued them at their real +worth. But we know that the result was a compromise. Slavery was to +take possession of Missouri, on condition that no other State as far +north as Missouri should be slave-holding. Slavery was to be excluded +from the rest of the territory forever. This bargain was applauded and +justified by Southern politicians and newspapers as a great triumph +on their part; and it was. That fatal compromise was a surrender of +principle for the sake of peace, bartering conscience for quiet; and we +were soon to reap the bitter fruits. + +Face to face, in deadly opposition, each determined on the total +destruction of his antagonist, stood this Goliath of the slave power +and the little David of antislavery, at the beginning of the ten years +which extended from 1830 to 1840. The giant was ultimately to fall +from the wounds of his minute opponent, but not during this decade or +the next. For many years each of the parties was growing stronger, +and the fight was growing fiercer. Organization on the one side was +continually becoming more powerful; enthusiasm on the other continually +built up a more determined opinion. The slave power won repeated +victories; but every victory increased the number and ardor of its +opponents. + +The first attempt to destroy antislavery principles was by means of +mobs. Mobs seldom take place in a community unless where the upper +stratum of society and the lower are in sympathetic opposition to +some struggling minority. Then the lower class takes its convictions +from the higher, and regards itself as the hand executing what the +head thinks ought to be done. Respectability denounces the victim, +and the rabble hastens to take vengeance on him. Even a mob cannot +act efficiently unless inspired by ideas; and these it must receive +from some higher source. So it was when Priestley was mobbed at +Birmingham; so it was when Wesley and his friends were mobbed in +all parts of England. So it was also in America when the office of +the "Philanthropist" was destroyed in Cincinnati; when halls and +churches were burned in Philadelphia; when Miss Crandall was mobbed in +Connecticut; when Lovejoy was killed at Alton. Antislavery meetings +were so often invaded by rioters, that on one occasion Stephen S. +Foster is reported to have declared that the speakers were not doing +their duty, because the people listened so quietly. "If we were doing +our duty," said he, "they would be throwing brick-bats at us." + +These demonstrations only roused and intensified the ardor of the +Abolitionists, while bringing to their side those who loved fair play, +and those in whom the element of battle was strong. Mobs also were an +excellent advertisement for the Antislavery Society; and this is what +every new cause needs most for its extension. Every time that one of +their meetings was violently broken up, every time that any outrage +or injury was offered to the Abolitionists, all the newspapers in the +land gave them a gratuitous advertisement by conspicuous notices of the +event. So the public mind was directed to the question, and curiosity +was excited. The antislavery conventions were more crowded from day to +day, their journals were more in demand, and their plans and opinions +became the subject of conversation everywhere. + +And certainly there could be no more interesting place to visit than +one of these meetings of the Antislavery Society. With untiring +assiduity the Abolitionists brought to their platform everything which +could excite and impress their audience. Their orators were of every +kind,--rough men and shrill-voiced women, polished speakers from the +universities, stammering fugitives from slavery, philosophers and +fanatics, atheists and Christian ministers, wise men who had been made +mad by oppression, and babes in intellect to whom God had revealed +some of the noblest truths. They murdered the King's English, they +uttered glaring fallacies, the blows aimed at evildoers often glanced +aside and hit good men. Invective was, perhaps, the too frequent +staple of their argument, and any difference of opinion would be apt +to turn their weapons against each other. This church-militant often +became a church-termagant. Yet, after all such abatement for errors of +judgment or bad taste, their meetings were a splendid arena on which +was fought one of the greatest battles for mankind. The eloquence +we heard there was not of the schools, and had nothing artificial +about it. It followed the rule of Demosthenes, and was all directed +to action. Every word was a blow. There was no respect for dignities +or authorities. The Constitution of the United States, the object of +such unfeigned idolatry to the average American, was denounced as +"a covenant with hell." The great men of the nation, Webster, Clay, +Jackson, were usually selected as the objects of the severest censure. +The rule was to strike at the heads which rose above the crowd, as +deserving the sternest condemnation. Presidents and governors, heads of +universities, eminent divines, great churches and denominations, were +convicted as traitors to the right, or held up to unsparing ridicule. +No conventional proprieties were regarded in the terrible earnestness +of this enraged speech. It was like the lava pouring from the depths +of the earth, and melting the very rocks which opposed its resistless +course. + +Of course this fierce attack roused as fierce a defense. One extreme +generated the other. The cry for "immediate abolition" was answered by +labored defenses of slavery itself. Formerly its advocates only excused +it as a necessary evil; now they began to defend it as a positive good. +Then was seen the lamentable sight of Christian ministers and respected +divines hurrying to the support of the "sum of all villanies." The +Episcopal bishop of a New England State defended with ardor the system +of slavery as an institution supported by the Bible and commanded by +God himself. The president of a New England college declared slavery to +be a positive institution of revealed religion, and not inconsistent +with the law of love. The minister of a Boston church, going to the +South for his health, amused his leisure by writing a book on slavery, +in which it is made to appear as a rose-colored and delightful +institution, and its opposers are severely censured. One of the most +learned professors in a Massachusetts theological school composed a +treatise to refute the heresy of the higher law, and to maintain the +duty of returning fugitive slaves to bondage. Under such guidance it +was natural that the churches should generally stand aloof from the +Abolitionists and condemn their course. It was equally natural that +the Abolitionists should then denounce the churches as the bulwark of +slavery. Nevertheless, from the Christian body came most of those who +devoted their lives to the extirpation of this great evil and iniquity. +And Mr. Garrison, at least, always maintained that his converts were +most likely to be made among those whose consciences had been educated +by the Church and the Bible. + +From public meetings in the North, the conflict of ideas next extended +itself to the floor of Congress, where it continued to rage during +nearly thirty years, until "the war of tongue and pen" changed to +that of charging squadrons, the storm of shot and the roll of cannon. +The question found its way into the debates of Congress in the form +of petitions for the abolition of slavery and the slave-trade in the +District of Columbia. If the slaveholders had allowed these petitions +to be received and referred, taking no notice of them, it seems +probable that no important results would have followed. But, blinded by +rage and fear, they opposed their reception, thus denying a privilege +belonging to all mankind,--that of asking the government to redress +their grievances. Then came to the front a man already eminent by his +descent, his great attainments, his long public service, his great +position, and his commanding ability. John Quincy Adams, after having +been President of the United States, accepted a seat in the House of +Representatives, and was one of the most laborious and useful of +its members. He was not then an Abolitionist, nor in favor even of +abolishing slavery in the District of Columbia. But he believed that +the people had the right to petition the government for anything they +desired, and that their respectful petitions should be respectfully +received. Sixty-five years old in 1832, when he began this conflict, +his warfare with the slave power ended only when, struck with death +while in his seat, he saw the last of earth and was content. With what +energy, what dauntless courage, what untiring industry, what matchless +powers of argument, what inexhaustible resources of knowledge, he +pursued his object, the future historian of the struggle who can fully +paint what Mr. Wilson is only able to indicate, will take pleasure in +describing. One scene will remain forever memorable as one of the most +striking triumphs of human oratory; and this we must describe a little +more fully. + +February 6, 1837, being the day for presenting petitions, Mr. Adams had +already presented several petitions for the abolition of slavery in the +District of Columbia (a measure to which he was himself then opposed), +when he proceeded to state[49] that he had in his possession a paper +upon which he wished the decision of the Speaker. The paper, he said, +came from twenty persons declaring themselves to be slaves. He wished +to know whether the Speaker would consider this paper as coming under +the rule of the House.[50] The Chair said he would take the advice of +the House on that question. And thereupon began a storm of indignation +which raged around Mr. Adams during four days.[51] Considering that +the House had ordered, less than three weeks before, that all papers +relating _in any way_ to slavery should be laid on the table without +any action being taken on them, this four days' discussion about such +a paper, ending in the passing of several resolutions, was rather an +amusing illustration of the irrepressible character of the antislavery +movement. The Southern members seemed at first astonished at what they +hastily assumed to be an attempt of Mr. Adams to introduce a petition +from slaves. One moved that it be not received. Another, indignant +at such a tame way of meeting the question, declared that any one +attempting to introduce such a petition should be immediately punished; +and if that was not done at once, all the members from the slave States +should leave the House. Loud cries arose, "Expel him! expel him!" +Mr. Alfred declared that the petition ought to be burned. Mr. Waddy +Thompson of South Carolina, who soon received a castigation which he +little anticipated, moved that John Quincy Adams, having committed a +gross disrespect to the House in attempting to introduce a petition +from slaves, ought to be instantly brought to the bar of the House +to receive the severe censure of the Speaker. Similar resolutions +were offered by Mr. Haynes and Mr. Lewis, all assuming that Mr. Adams +had attempted to introduce this petition. He at last took the floor, +and said that he thought the time of the House was being consumed +needlessly, since all these resolutions were founded on an error. He +had _not_ attempted to present the petition,--he had only asked the +Speaker a question in regard to it. He also advised the member from +Alabama to amend his resolution, which stated the petition to be for +the abolition of slavery in the District, whereas it was the very +reverse of that. It was a petition for something which would be very +objectionable to himself, though it might be the very thing for which +the gentleman from Alabama was contending. Then Mr. Adams sat down, +leaving his opponents more angry than ever, but somewhat confused in +their minds. They could not very well censure him for doing what he +had not done, but they wished very much to censure him. So Mr. Waddy +Thompson modified his resolution, making it state that Mr. Adams, "by +creating the impression, and leaving the House under the impression, +that the petition was for the abolition of slavery," had trifled with +the House, and should receive its censure. After a multitude of other +speeches from the enraged Southern chivalry, the debate of the first +day came to an end. + +On the next day (February 7), in reply to a question, Mr. Adams stated +again that he had not attempted to present the petition, though his +own feelings would have led him to do so, but had kept it in his +possession, out of respect to the House. He had said nothing to lead +the House to infer that this petition was for the abolition of slavery. +He should consider before presenting a petition from slaves; though, +in his opinion, slaves had a right to petition, and the mere fact of +a petition being from slaves would not of itself prevent him from +presenting it. If the petition were a proper one, he should present +it. A petition was a prayer, a supplication to a superior being. +Slaves might pray to God; was this House so superior that it could not +condescend to hear a prayer from those to whom the Almighty listened? +He ended by saying that, in asking the question of the Speaker, he had +intended to show the greatest respect to the House, and had not the +least purpose of trifling with it. + +These brief remarks of Mr. Adams made it necessary for the slaveholders +again to change their tactics. Mr. Dromgoole of Virginia now brought +forward his famous resolution, which Mr. Adams afterwards made so +ridiculous, accusing him of having "given color to an idea" that +slaves had a right to petition, and that he should be censured by +the Speaker for this act. Another member proposed, rather late in the +day, that a committee be appointed to inquire whether any attempt had +been made, or not, to offer a petition from slaves. Another offered a +series of resolutions, declaring that if any one "hereafter" should +offer petitions from slaves he ought to be regarded as an enemy of the +South, and of the Union; but that "as John Quincy Adams had stated +that he meant no disrespect to the House, that all proceedings as to +his conduct should now cease." And so, after many other speeches, the +second day's debate came to an end. + +The next day was set apart to count the votes for President, and so +the debate was resumed February 9. It soon become more confused than +ever. Motions were made to lay the resolutions on the table; they were +withdrawn; they were renewed; they were voted down; and, finally, after +much discussion, and when at last the final question was about being +taken, Mr. Adams inquired whether he was to be allowed to be heard in +his own defense before being condemned. So he obtained the floor, and +immediately the whole aspect of the case was changed. During three days +he had been the prisoner at the bar; suddenly he became the judge on +the bench. Never, in the history of forensic eloquence, has a single +speech effected a greater change in the purpose of a deliberative +assembly. Often as the Horatian description has been quoted of the +just man, tenacious of his purpose, who fears not the rage of citizens +clamoring for what is wrong, it has never found a fitter application +than to the unshaken mind of John Quincy Adams, standing alone, in the +midst of his antagonists, like a solid monument which the idle storms +beat against in vain. + +He began by saying that he had been waiting during these three days +for an answer to the question which he had put to the Speaker, and +which the Speaker had put to the House, but which the House had not +yet answered, namely, whether the paper he held in his hand came under +the rule of the House or not. They had discussed everything else, but +had not answered that question. They had wasted the time of the House +in considering how they could censure him for doing what he had not +done. All he wished to know was, whether a petition from slaves should +be received or not. He himself thought that it ought to be received; +but if the House decided otherwise, he should not present it. Only one +gentleman had undertaken to discuss that question, and his argument +was, that if slavery was abolished by Congress in any State, the +Constitution was violated; and, _therefore_, slaves ought not to be +allowed to petition for anything. He, Mr. Adams, was unable to see the +connection between the premises and the conclusion. + +Hereupon poor Mr. French, the author of this argument, tried to +explain what he meant by it, but left his meaning as confused as before. + +Then Mr. Adams added, that if you deprived any one in the community of +the right of petition, which was only the right of offering a prayer, +you would find it difficult to know where to stop; one gentleman had +objected to the reception of one petition, because offered by women of +a bad character. Mr. Patton of Virginia says he _knows_ that one of the +names is of a woman of a bad character. _How does he know it?_ + +Hereupon Mr. Patton explained that he did not himself know the woman, +but had been told that her character was not good. + +So, said Mr. Adams, you first deny the right of petition to slaves, +then to free people of color, and then you inquire into the moral +character of a petitioner before you receive his petition. The next +step will be to inquire into the political belief of the petitioners +before you receive your petition. Mr. Robertson of Virginia had said +that no petitions ought to be received for an object which Congress +had no power to grant. Mr. Adams replied, with much acuteness, that +on most questions the right of granting the petition might be in +doubt: a majority must decide that point; it would therefore follow, +from Mr. Robertson's rule, that no one had a right to petition unless +he belonged to the predominant party. Mr. Adams then turned to Mr. +Dromgoole, who had charged him with the remarkable crime of "giving +color to an idea," and soon made that Representative of the Old +Dominion appear very ridiculous. + +Mr. Adams then proceeded to rebuke, with dignity but severity, the +conduct of those who had proposed to censure him without any correct +knowledge of the facts of the case. His criticisms had the effect +of compelling these gentlemen to excuse themselves and to offer +various explanations of their mistakes. These assailants suddenly +found themselves in an attitude of self-defense. Mr. Adams graciously +accepted their explanations, advising them in future to be careful when +they undertook to offer resolutions of censure. He then informed Mr. +Waddy Thompson of South Carolina that he had one or two questions to +put to him. By this time it had become a pretty serious business to +receive the attentions of Mr. Adams; and Mr. Waddy Thompson immediately +rose to explain. But Mr. Adams asked him to wait until he had fully +stated the question which Mr. Thompson was to answer. This Southern +statesman had threatened the ex-President of the United States with an +indictment by the grand jury of the District for words spoken in debate +in the House of Representatives, and had added that, if the petition +was presented, Mr. Adams would be sent to the penitentiary. "Sir," +said Mr. Adams, "the only answer I make to such a threat from that +gentleman is, to invite him, when he returns to his constituents, to +study a little the first principles of civil liberty." He then called +on the gentlemen from the slave States to say how many of them indorsed +that sentiment. "_I_ do not," said Mr. Underwood of Kentucky. "_I_ do +not," said Mr. Wise of Virginia. Mr. Thompson was compelled to attempt +another explanation, and said he meant that, in _South Carolina_, any +member of the legislature who should present a petition from slaves +could be indicted. "Then," replied Mr. Adams, and this produced a great +sensation, "if it is the law of South Carolina that members of her +Legislature may be indicted by juries for words spoken in debate, God +Almighty receive my thanks that I am not a citizen of South Carolina." + +Mr. Adams ended his speech by declaring that the honor of the +House of Representatives was always regarded by him as a sacred +sentiment, and that he should feel a censure from that House as the +heaviest misfortune of a long life, checkered as it had been by many +vicissitudes. + +When Mr. Adams began his defense, not only was a large majority of +the House opposed to his course, but they had brought themselves by +a series of violent harangues into a condition of bitter excitement +against him. When he ended, the effect of this extraordinary speech +was such, that all the resolutions were rejected, and out of the whole +House only twenty-two members could be found to pass a vote of even +indirect censure. The victory was won, and won by Mr. Adams almost +single-handed. We count Horatius Cocles a hero for holding the Roman +bridge against a host of enemies; but greater honors belong to him +who successfully defends against overwhelming numbers the ancient +safeguards of public liberty. For this reason we have repeated here at +such length the story of three days, which the people of the United +States ought always to remember. It took ten years to accomplish the +actual repeal of these gag-laws. But the main work was done when the +right of speech was obtained for the friends of freedom in Congress; +and John Quincy Adams was the great leader in this warfare. He was +joined on that arena by other noble champions,--Giddings, Mann, +Palfrey, John P. Hale, Chase, Seward, Slade of Vermont, Julian of +Indiana. Others no less devoted followed them, among whom came from +Massachusetts Charles Sumner and Henry Wilson, the author of the +present work. What he cannot properly say of himself should be said +for him. Though an accomplished and eager politician, Henry Wilson has +never sacrificed any great principle for the sake of political success. +His services to the antislavery cause have been invaluable, his labors +in that cause unremitting. Personal feelings and personal interests he +has been ready to sacrifice for the sake of the cause. Loyal to his +friends, he has not been bitter to his opponents; and if any man who +fought through that long struggle were to be its historian, no one will +deny the claims of Mr. Wilson to that honor. + +Under the lead of John Quincy Adams, the power to discuss the whole +subject of slavery in the National Legislature was won, and never +again lost. This was the second triumph of the antislavery movement; +its first was the power won by Garrison and his friends of discussing +the subject before the people. The wolfish mob in the cities and in +Congress might continue to howl, but it had lost its claws and teeth. +But now came the first great triumph of the slave power, in the +annexation of Texas. This was a cruel blow to the friends of freedom. +It was more serious because the motive of annexation was openly +announced, and the issue distinctly presented in the Presidential +election. Mr. Upshur, Tyler's Secretary of State, in an official +dispatch, declared that the annexation of Texas was necessary to secure +the institution of slavery. The Democratic Convention which nominated +Mr. Polk for the Presidency deliberately made the annexation of Texas +the leading feature of its platform. Nor was the slave power in this +movement opposed merely by the antislavery feeling of the country. +Southern senators helped to defeat the measure when first presented in +the form of a treaty by Mr. Tyler's administration. Nearly the whole +Whig party was opposed to it. The candidate of the Whigs, Henry Clay, +had publicly declared that annexation would be a great evil to the +nation. Twenty members of Congress, with John Quincy Adams at their +head, had proclaimed in an address to their constituents that it would +be equivalent to a dissolution of the Union. Dr. Channing, in 1838, had +said that it would be better for the nation to perish than to commit +such an outrageous wrong. Edward Everett, in 1837, spoke of annexation +as "an enormous crime." Whig and Democratic legislatures had repeatedly +denounced it. In 1843, when the Democrats had a majority in the +Massachusetts legislature, they resolved that "under no circumstances +whatever" could the people of Massachusetts approve of annexation. +Martin Van Buren opposed it as unjust to Mexico. Senator Benton, though +previously in favor of the measure, in a speech in Missouri declared +that the object of those who were favoring the scheme was to dissolve +the Union, though he afterward came again to its support. And yet when +the Presidential campaign was in progress, a Democratic torchlight +procession miles long was seen marching through the streets of Boston, +and flaunting the lone star of Texas along its whole line. And when +Polk was elected, and the decision of the nation virtually given for +this scheme, it seemed almost hopeless to contend longer against such +a triumph of slavery. If the people of the North could submit to this +outrage, it appeared as if they could submit to anything. + +Such, however, was not the case. On one side the slave power was +greatly strengthened by the admission of Texas to the Union as a slave +State; but, on the other hand, there came a large accession to the +antislavery body. And this continued to be the case during many years. +The slave power won a succession of political victories, each of which +was a moral victory to its opponents. Many who were not converted to +antislavery by the annexation of Texas in 1845 were brought over by +the defeat of the Wilmot Proviso and the passage of the Fugitive Slave +Law in 1850. Many who were not alarmed by these successes of slavery +were convinced of the danger when they beheld the actual working of +the Fugitive Slave Act. How many Boston gentlemen, before opposed to +the Abolitionists, were brought suddenly to their side when they saw +the Court House in chains, and were prevented by soldiers guarding +Anthony Burns from going to their banks or insurance offices in State +Street! All those bitter hours of defeat and disaster planted the seeds +of a greater harvest for freedom. Others who remained insensible to +the disgrace of the slave laws of 1850 were recruited to the ranks of +freedom by the repeal of the Missouri Compromise in 1854. This last +act, Mr. Wilson justly says, did more than any other to arouse the +North, and convince it of the desperate encroachments of slavery. Men +who tamely acquiesced in _this_ great wrong were startled into moral +life by the murderous assault on Charles Sumner by Preston Brooks in +1856. Those who could submit to this were roused by the border ruffians +from Missouri who invaded Kansas, and made the proslavery Constitution +for that State. The Dred Scott decision in 1857, which declared slavery +to be no local institution, limited to a single part of the land, but +having a right to exist in the free States under the Constitution, +alarmed even those who had been insensible to the previous aggressions +of slavery. This series of political successes of the slave power was +appalling. Every principle of liberty, every restraint on despotism, +was overthrown in succession, until the whole power of the nation had +fallen into the hands of an oligarchy of between three and four hundred +thousand slaveholders. But every one of their political victories was a +moral defeat; every access to their strength as an organization added +an immense force to the public opinion opposed to them; and each of +their successes was responded to by some advance of the antislavery +movement. The annexation of Texas in 1845 was answered by the +appearance of John P. Hale, in 1847, in the United States Senate,--the +first man who was elected to that body on distinctly antislavery +grounds and independent of either of the great parties. The response +to the defeat of the Wilmot Proviso and passage of the Fugitive Slave +Law in 1850 was the election of Charles Sumner to the Senate in April, +1851, and the establishment of the underground railroad in all the +free States. When the South abrogated the Missouri Compromise, the +North replied by the initiation of the Republican party. The Kansas +outrages gave to freedom John Brown of Osawatomie. And the answer to +the Dred Scott decision was the nomination of Abraham Lincoln. Till +that moment the forces of freedom and slavery had stood opposed, like +two great armies, each receiving constant recruits and an acccession of +new power. On one side, hitherto, had been all the political triumphs, +and on the other all the moral. But with this first great political +success of their opponents the slave power became wholly demoralized, +gave up the conflict, threw away the results of all its former +victories, and abandoned the field to its enemies, plunging into the +dark abyss of secession and civil war. + +And yet, what was the issue involved in that election? It was simply +whether slavery should or should not be extended into new Territories. +All that the Republican party demanded was that slavery should not be +extended. It did not dream of abolishing slavery in the slave States. +We remember how, long after the war began, we refused to do this. The +Southerners had every guaranty they could desire that they should not +be interfered with at home. If they had gracefully acquiesced in the +decision of the majority, their institution might have flourished for +another century. The Fugitive Slave Law would have been repealed; or, +at all events, trial by jury would have been given to the man claimed +as a fugitive. But no attempt would have been made by the Republican +party to interfere with slavery in the slave States, for that party did +not believe it had the right so to do. + +But, in truth, the course of the Southern leaders illustrated in a +striking way the distinction between a politician and a statesman. They +were very acute politicians, trained in all the tactics of their art; +but they were poor statesmen, incapable of any large strategic plan +of action. As statesmen, they should have made arrangements for the +gradual abolition of slavery, as an institution incapable of sustaining +itself in civilized countries in the nineteenth century. Or, if they +wished to maintain it as long as possible, they ought to have seen +that this could only be accomplished by preserving the support of +the interests and the public opinion of the North. Alliance with the +Northern States was their only security; and, therefore, they ought to +have kept the Northern conscience on their side by a loyal adherence to +all compacts and covenants. Instead of this, they contrived to outrage, +one by one, every feeling of honor, every sentiment of duty, and every +vested right of the free States, until, at last, it became plain to all +that it was an "irrepressible conflict," and must be settled definitely +either for slavery or for freedom. When this point was reached by the +American people, they saw also that it could not be settled in favor +of slavery, for no concession would satisfy the slaveholders, and no +contract these might make could be depended on. The North gave them, in +1850, the Fugitive Slave Law for the sake of peace. Did it gain peace? +No. It relinquished, for the sake of peace, the Wilmot Proviso. Was the +South satisfied? No. In 1853 Mr. Douglas offered it the Nebraska Bill. +Was it contented? By no means. Mr. Pierce and Mr. Buchanan did their +best to give it Kansas. Did they content the South by their efforts? +No. Mr. Douglas, Mr. Pierce, and Mr. Buchanan were all set aside by +the South. The Lecompton Bill was not enough. The Dred Scott decision +was not enough. The slaveholders demanded that slavery should be +established by a positive act of Congress in all the Territories of the +Union. Even Judge Douglas shrank aghast from the enterprise of giving +them such a law as that; and so Judge Douglas was immediately thrown +aside. Thus, by the folly of the Southern leaders themselves, more than +by the efforts of their opponents, the majority was obtained by the +Republicans in the election of 1860. + +But during this conflict came many very dark days for freedom. One +of these was after the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law in 1850. +That law was one of a series of compromises, intended to make a final +settlement of the question and to silence all antislavery agitation. +Although defended by great lawyers, who thought it necessary to save +the Union, there is little doubt that it was as unconstitutional as +it was cruel. The Constitution declares that "no person shall be +deprived of his liberty without due process of law," and also that +"in suits at common law, when the value in controversy shall exceed +twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved." Anthony +Burns was in full possession of his liberty; he was a self-supporting, +tax-paying citizen of Massachusetts; and in ten days, by the action of +the Fugitive Slave Law, he was turned into a slave under the decision +of a United States commissioner, without seeing a judge or a jury. +The passage of this law, and its actual enforcement, caused great +excitement among the free colored people at the North, as well as among +the fugitives from slavery. No one was safe. It was evident that it was +meant to be enforced,--it was not meant to be idle thunder. But instead +of discouraging the friends of freedom, it roused them to greater +activity. More fugitives than ever came from the slave States, and the +underground railroad was in fuller activity than before. The methods +employed by fugitives to escape were very various and ingenious. One +man was brought away in a packing-box. Another clung to the lower side +of the guard of a steamer, washed by water at every roll of the vessel. +One well-known case was that of Ellen Crafts, who came from Georgia +disguised as a young Southern gentleman, attended by her husband as +body-servant. She rode in the cars, sitting near Southerners who knew +her, but did not recognize her in this costume, and at last arrived +safe in Philadelphia. In one instance a slave escaped from Kentucky, +with all his family, walking some distance on stilts, in order to leave +no scent for the pursuing blood-hounds. When these poor people reached +the North, and told their stories on the antislavery platform, they +excited great sympathy, which was not confined to professed antislavery +people. A United States commissioner, who might be called on to return +fugitives to bondage, frequently had them concealed in his own house, +by the action of his wife, whose generous heart never wearied in this +work, and who was the means of saving many from bondage. A Democratic +United States marshal, in Boston, whose duty it was to arrest fugitive +slaves, was in the habit of telling the slave-owner who called on him +for assistance that he "did not know anything about niggers, but he +would find out where the man was from those who did." Whereupon he +would go directly to Mr. Garrison's office and tell him he wanted to +arrest such or such a man, a fugitive from slavery. "But," said he, +"curiously enough, the next thing I heard would be, that the fellow was +in Canada." And when a colored man was actually sent back to slavery, +as in the case of Burns, the event excited so much sympathy with +the fugitive, and so much horror of the law, that its effects were +disastrous to the slave power. Thomas M. Simms was arrested in Boston +as a fugitive from slavery, April 3, 1851, and was sent to slavery by +the decision of George Ticknor Curtis, a United States commissioner. +The answer to this act, by Massachusetts, was the election of Charles +Sumner, twenty-one days after, to the United States Senate. Anthony +Burns was returned to slavery by order of Edward G. Loring, in May, +1854; and Massachusetts responded by removing him from his office as +Judge of Probate, and refusing his confirmation as a professor in +Harvard University. + +The passage of what were called the compromise measures of 1850, +including the Fugitive Slave Law, had, it was fondly believed, put an +end to the whole antislavery agitation. The two great parties, Whig and +Democrat, had agreed that such should be the case. The great leaders, +Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, Cass and Buchanan, were active in +calling on the people to subdue their prejudices in favor of freedom. +Southern fire-eaters, like Toombs and Alexander Stephens, joined these +Union-savers, and became apostles of peace. Agitation was the only +evil, and agitation must now come to an end. Public meetings were held +in the large cities,--one in Castle Garden in New York, another in +Faneuil Hall in Boston. In these meetings the lion and the lamb lay +down together. Rufus Choate and Benjamin Hallet joined in demanding +that all antislavery agitation should now cease. The church was called +upon to assist in the work of Union-saving, and many leading divines +lent their aid in this attempt to silence those who desired that +the oppressed should go free, and who wished to break every yoke. +Many seemed to suppose that all antislavery agitation was definitely +suppressed. President Fillmore called the compromise measures "a final +adjustment." All the powers which control human opinion--the two great +political parties, the secular and the religious newspapers, the large +churches and popular divines, the merchants and lawyers--had agreed +that the antislavery agitation should now cease.[52] + +But just at that moment, when the darkness was the deepest, and all +the great powers in the church and state had decreed that there should +be no more said concerning American slavery, the voice of a woman broke +the silence, and American slavery became the one subject of discussion +throughout the world. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was written by Mrs. Stowe +for the "National Era," Dr. Bailey's paper in Washington. It was +intended to be a short story, running through two or three numbers of +the journal, and she was to receive a hundred dollars for writing it. +But, as she wrote, the fire burned in her soul, a great inspiration +came over her, and, not knowing what she was about to do, she moved +the hearts of two continents to their very depths. After her story +had appeared in the newspaper, she offered it as a novel to several +publishers, who refused it. Accepted at last, it had a circulation +unprecedented in the annals of literature. In eight weeks its sale had +reached one hundred thousand copies in the United States, while in +England a million copies were sold within the year. On the European +Continent the sale was immense. A single publisher in Paris issued five +editions in a few weeks, and before the end of 1852 it was translated +into Italian, Spanish, Danish, Swedish, Dutch, Flemish, German, Polish, +and Magyar. To these were afterward added translations into Portuguese, +Welsh, Russian, Arabic, and many other languages. For a time, it +stopped the publication and sale of all other works; and within a +year or two from the day when the politicians had decided that no more +should be said concerning American slavery, it had become the subject +of conversation and discussion among millions. + +"Uncle Tom's Cabin" was published in 1852. Those were very dark hours +in the great struggle for freedom. Who that shared them can ever +forget the bitterness caused by the defection of Daniel Webster, and +his 7th of March speech in 1850; by the passage of the Fugitive Slave +Law, which made the whole area of the free States a hunting-ground for +the slaveholders; and by the rejection of the Wilmot Proviso, which +abandoned all the new territory to slavery? This was followed by the +election of Franklin Pierce as President in 1852, on a platform in +which the Democratic party pledged itself to resist all agitation of +the subject of slavery in Congress or outside of it. And in December, +1853, Stephen A. Douglas introduced his Nebraska Bill, which repealed +the Missouri Compromise of 1820, and opened all the territory +heretofore secured to freedom to slaveholders and their slaves. This +offer on the part of Mr. Douglas was a voluntary bid for the support +of the slaveholders in the next Presidential election. And in spite +of all protests from the North, all resistance by Democrats as well +as their opponents, all arguments and appeals, this solemn agreement +between the North and the South was violated, and every restriction on +slavery removed. Nebraska and Kansas were organized as Territories, +and the question of slavery left to local tribunals, or what was called +"squatter sovereignty." + +The passage of this measure showed the vast political advance of the +slave power in the country, and how greatly it had corrupted the +political conscience of the nation. It also showed, to those who had +eyes, that slavery was the wedge which was to split the Union asunder. +But there were in the North many persons who still thought that danger +to the Union came rather from the _discussion_ of slavery than from +slavery itself. They supposed that if all opposition to slavery should +cease, then there would be no more danger. The Abolitionists were the +cause of all the peril; and the way to save the Union was to silence +the Abolitionists. That, however, had been tried ineffectually when +they were few and weak; and now it was too late, as these Union-savers +ought to have seen. + +Mr. Douglas and his supporters defended their cause by maintaining +that the Missouri Compromise was not a contract, but a simple act of +legislation, and they tauntingly asked, "Why, since antislavery men had +always thought that Compromise a bad thing, should they now object to +its being repealed?" Even this sophism had its effect with some, who +did not notice that Douglas's resolutions only repealed that half of +the Compromise which was favorable to freedom, while letting the other +half remain. One part of the Act of 1820 was that Missouri should be +admitted as a slave State; the other part was that all the rest of the +Territory should be forever free. Only the last part was now repealed. +Missouri was left in the Union as a slave State. + +The political advance now made by slavery will appear from the +following facts:-- + +In 1797 the slave power asked for only life; it did not wish to extend +itself; it united with the North in prohibiting its own extension into +the Northwest Territory. + +In 1820 it did wish to extend itself; it refused to be shut out of +Missouri, but was willing that the rest of the Territory should be +always free. + +In 1845 it insisted on extending itself by annexing Texas, but it +admitted that it had no right to go into any Territory as far north as +Missouri. + +In 1850 it refused to be shut out of any of the new territory, and +resisted the Wilmot Proviso; but still confessed that it had no right +to go into Kansas or Nebraska. + +Five years after, by the efforts of Stephen A. Douglas and Franklin +Pierce, it refused to be shut out of Kansas, and repealed the part of +the Missouri Compromise which excluded it from that region. But, in +order to accomplish this repeal, it took the plausible name of "popular +sovereignty," and claimed that the people should themselves decide +whether they would have a slave State or a free State. + +One additional step came. The people decided or were about to decide +for freedom; and then the slave power set aside its own doctrine +of popular sovereignty and invaded the Territory with an army of +Missourians, chose a legislature for the people of Kansas composed of +Missourians, who passed laws establishing slavery and punishing with +fine and imprisonment any who should even speak against it. + +The people of Kansas refused to obey these laws. They would have been +slaves already if they had obeyed them. Then their own governor, +appointed by our President, led an army of Missourians to destroy +their towns and plunder and murder their people. Nothing was left +them but to resist. They did resist manfully but prudently, and by a +remarkable combination of courage and caution the people of the little +Free-State town of Lawrence succeeded in saving themselves from this +danger without shedding a drop of blood. Men, women, and children were +animated by the same heroic spirit. The women worked by the side of the +men. The men were placed on the outposts as sentinels and ordered by +their general not to fire as long as they could possibly avoid it. And +these men stood on their posts, and allowed themselves to be shot at by +the invaders, and did not return the fire. One man received two bullets +through his hat, and was ready to fire if the enemy came nearer, but +neither fired nor quitted his post. The men were brave and obedient +to orders; the women were resolute, sagacious, and prudent. So they +escaped their first great danger. + +But slavery does not give up its point so easily after one defeat. +Preparations were made along the Missouri frontier for another +invasion, conducted in a more military manner and by troops under +better discipline. The Free-State people of Kansas were to be +exterminated. From week to week they were expecting an attack, and had +to watch continually against it. After having worked all day the men +were obliged to do military duty and stand guard all night. Men who +lived four and five miles out from Lawrence got wood and water for +their wives in the morning, left them a revolver with which to defend +themselves, and went to Lawrence to do military duty, returning at +night again. + +If we had a writer gifted with the genius of Macaulay to describe the +resistance of Kansas to the Federal authorities on one side and the +Missouri invaders on the other, it would show as heroic courage and +endurance as are related in the brilliant pages which tell of the +defense of Londonderry. The invaders were unscrupulous, knowing that +they had nothing to fear from the government at Washington. Senator +Atchison, formerly the presiding officer of the United States Senate, +openly advised the people of Missouri to go and vote in Kansas. General +Stringfellow told them to take their bowie-knives and exterminate +every scoundrel who was tainted with Free-soilism or Abolitionism. +The orders were obeyed. The first legislature was elected by armed +invaders from Missouri, and Buford with a regiment of Southern soldiers +entered the Territory in 1856, and surrounded Lawrence. These troops, +under Atchison, Buford, and Stringfellow, burned houses and hotels, +and stole much property. Osawatomie was sacked and burned, Leavenworth +invaded and plundered, and Free-State men were killed. A proslavery +constitution formed by Missouri slaveholders was forced through +Congress, but rejected by the people of Kansas, who at last gained +possession of their own State by indomitable courage and patience. +Four territorial governors, appointed by the President, selected from +the Democratic party and favorable to the extension of slavery, were +all converted to the cause of freedom by the sight of the outrages +committed by the Missouri invaders. + +Amid this scene of tumult arose a warrior on the side of freedom +destined to take his place with William Wallace and William Tell among +the few names of patriots which are never forgotten. John Brown of +Osawatomie was one of those who, in these later days, have reproduced +for us the almost forgotten type of the Jewish hero and prophet. He was +a man who believed in a God of justice, who believed in fighting fire +with fire. He was one who came in the spirit and power of Elijah, an +austere man, a man absorbed in his ideas, fixed as fate in pursuing +them. Yet his heart was full of tenderness, he had no feeling of +revenge toward any, and he really lost his own life rather than risk +the lives of others. While in Kansas he become a leader of men, a +captain, equal to every exigency. The ruffians from Missouri found to +their surprise that, before they could conquer Kansas, they had some +real fighting to do, and must face Sharpe's rifles; and as soon as they +understood this, their zeal for their cause was very much abated. In +this struggle John Brown was being educated for the last scene of his +life, which has lifted up his name, and placed it in that body which +Daniel O'Connell used to call "The order of Liberators."[53] + +Out of these persecutions of Free-State men in Kansas came the assault +on Charles Sumner, for words spoken in debate. Charles Sumner was +elected to the United States Senate in 1851. He found in Congress some +strong champions of freedom. John Quincy Adams was gone; but Seward +was there, and Chase, and John P. Hale, in the Senate; and Horace +Mann, Giddings, and other true men in the House. Henry Wilson himself, +always a loyal friend to Sumner, did not come till 1855. These men all +differed from one another, and each possessed special gifts for his +arduous work. They stood face to face with an imperious majority, +accustomed to rule. They had only imperfect support at home,--people +and press at the North had been demoralized by slavery. They must watch +their words, be careful of what they said, control their emotions, +maintain an equal temper. Something of the results of this discipline +we think we perceive in the calm tone of Mr. Wilson's volumes, and the +absence of passion in his narration. These men must give no occasion to +the enemy to blaspheme, but be careful of their lips and their lives. +Their gifts, we have said, were various. Seward was a politician, +trained in all the intricate ways of New York party struggles; but +he was also a thinker of no small power of penetration. He could see +principles, but was too much disposed to sacrifice or postpone them +to some supposed exigency of the hour. In his orations, when he spoke +for mankind, his views were large; but in his politics he sometimes +gave up to party his best-considered convictions. Thought and action, +he seemed to believe, belonged to two spheres; in his thought he was +often broader in his range than any other senator, but in action he was +frequently tempted to temporize. Mr. Chase was a man of a different +sort. He had no disposition to concede any of his views. A cautious +man, he moved slowly; but when he had taken his position, he was not +disposed to leave it. John P. Hale was admirable in reply. His retorts +were rapid and keen, and yet were uttered so good-naturedly, and +with so much wit, that it was difficult for his opponents to take +offense. But Charles Sumner was "the noblest Roman of them all." With +a more various culture, a higher tone of moral sentiment, he was also +a learned student and a man of implacable opinions. He never could +comprehend Mr. Seward's diplomacy, and probably Mr. Seward could never +understand Sumner's inability to compromise. He was deficient in +imagination and in tact; therefore he could not enter into the minds of +others, and imperfectly understood them. But the purity of his soul and +life, the childlike simplicity of his purposes, and the sweetness of +his disposition, were very charming to those who knew him well. Add to +this the resources of a mind stored with every kind of knowledge, and a +memory which never forgot anything, and his very presence in Washington +gave an added value to the place. He had seen men and cities, and was +intimate with European celebrities, but yet was an Israelite indeed +in whom was no guile. Fond of the good opinions of others, and well +pleased with their approbation, he never sacrificed a conviction to win +their praise or to avoid their censure. Certainly, he was one of the +purest men who ever took part in American politics. + +It was such a man as this, so gifted and adorned, so spotless and +upright, who by the wise providence of God was permitted to be the +victim of a brutal assassin. It was this noble head, the instrument of +laborious thought for the public welfare, which was beaten and bruised +by the club of a ruffian, on May 22, 1856. Loud was the triumph through +the South, great the joy of the slave power. They had disabled, with +cruel blows, their chief enemy. Little did they foresee--bad men never +do foresee--that Charles Sumner was to return to his seat, and become a +great power in the land, long after their system had been crushed, and +their proud States trampled into ruin by the tread of Northern armies. +They did not foresee that he was to be the trusted counselor of Lincoln +during those years of war; and that, after they had been conquered, he +would become one of their best friends in their great calamity, and +repay their evil with good. + +This murderous assault on Mr. Sumner cannot be considered as having +strengthened the political position of the slave power. It was a great +mistake in itself, and it was a greater mistake in being indorsed by +such multitudes in the slave States. In thus taking the responsibility +of the act, they fully admitted that brutality, violence, and cowardly +attempts at assassination are natural characteristics of slavery. A +thrill of horror went through the civilized world on this occasion. All +the free States felt themselves outraged. That an attempt should be +made to kill in his seat a Northern man, for words spoken in debate, +was a gross insult and wrong to the nation, and deepened everywhere the +detestation felt for the system. + +But madness must have its perfect work. One more step remained to be +taken by the slave power, and that was to claim the right, under the +Constitution, and protected by the general government, to carry slaves +and slavery into all the Territories. It was not enough that they were +not prohibited by acts of Congress. They must not allow the people of +the Territories to decide for themselves whether slavery should exist +among them or not. It had a right to exist there, in spite of the +people. A single man from South Carolina, going with his slaves into +Nebraska, should have the power of making that a slave State, though +all the rest of its inhabitants wished it to be free. And if he were +troubled by his neighbors, he had a right to call on the military power +of the United States to protect him against them. Such was the doctrine +of the Dred Scott case, such the doctrine accepted by the majority +of the United States Senate under the lead of Jefferson Davis in the +spring of 1859. Such was the doctrine demanded by the Southern members +of the Democratic Convention in Charleston, S. C., in May, 1860, +and, failing to carry it, they broke up that convention. And it was +because they were defeated in this purpose of carrying slavery into the +Territories that they seceded from the Union, and formed the Southern +Confederacy. + +They had gained a long succession of political triumphs, which we +have briefly traced in this article. They had annexed Texas, and +made another slave State of that Territory. They had established the +principle that slavery was not to be excluded by law from any of the +Territories of the nation. They had repealed the Missouri Compromise, +passed the Fugitive Slave Law, obtained the Dred Scott decision from +the Supreme Court. In all this they had been aided by the Democratic +party, and were sure of the continued help of that party. With these +allies, they were certain to govern the country for a long period of +years. The President, the Senate, the Supreme Court, were all on their +side. As regarded slavery in the States, there was nothing to threaten +its existence there. The Republicans proposed only to restrict it to +the region where it actually existed, but could not and would not +meddle with it therein. If the slave power had been satisfied with +this, it seems probable that it might have retained its ascendency in +the country for a long period. An immense region was still open to its +colonies. Cotton was still king, and the slaveholders possessed all +the available cotton-growing regions. They were wealthy, they were +powerful, they governed the nation. They threw all this power away by +seceding from the Union. Why did they do this? + +The frequent answer to this question is contained in the proverb, +"Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad." No doubt this act +was one of madness, and no doubt it was providential. But Providence +works not by direct interference, but by maintaining the laws of cause +and effect. Why did they become so mad? Why this supreme folly of +relinquishing actual enormous power, in order to set their lives and +fortunes on the hazard of a die? + +It seems to be the doom of all vaulting ambition to overleap itself, +and to fall on the other side. When Macbeth had gained all his ends, +when he had become Thane of Cawdor and Glamis, and king, he had no +peace, because the succession had been promised to Banquo:-- + + "Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, + And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, + Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand, + No son of mine succeeding. If't be so, + For _Banquo's_ issue have I filed my mind, + For _them_ the gracious Duncan have I murthered, + Put rancors in the vessel of my peace. + ... To make _them_ kings, the seed of Banquo kings! + Rather than so, come fate into the list, + And champion me to the utterance." + +When Napoleon the First was master of nearly all Europe, he could not +be satisfied while England resisted his power, and Russia had not +submitted to it. So _he_ also said,-- + + "Rather than so, come fate into the list, + And champion me to the utterance." + +He also threw away all his immense power because he could not arrest +his own course or limit his own demands on fate. Such ambitions cannot +stop, so long as there is anything unconquered or unpossessed. "All +this avails me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at +the king's gate." The madness which seizes those greedy of power is +like the passion of the gamester, who is unable to limit his desire +of gain. By this law of insatiable ambition Providence equalizes +destinies, and power is prevented from being consolidated in a few +hands. + +The motive which actuates these ambitions, and makes them think that +nothing is gained so long as anything remains to be gained, seems to +be a secret fear that they are in danger of losing all unless they can +obtain more. + +This inward dread appears to have possessed the hearts of the Southern +slaveholders. Since slavery has been abolished, many of them admit that +they have more content in their present poverty than they formerly +had in their large possessions. They were then sensitive to every +suggestion which touched their institution. Hence their persecution +of Abolitionists, hence their cruelty to the slaves themselves,--for +cruelty is often the child of fear. Hence the atrocity of the slave +laws. Hence the desire to secure more and larger guaranties from the +United States for their institution. Every rumor in the air troubled +them. The fact that antislavery opinion existed at the North, that it +was continually increasing, that a great political party was growing +up which was opposed to their system, that such men as Garrison and +Wendell Phillips existed in Boston, that Seward and Sumner were in +the Senate,--all this was intolerable. The only way of accounting for +Southern irritability, for Southern aggressions, for its perpetual +demand for more power, is to be found in this latent terror. They +doubted whether the foundations of their whole system were not rotten; +they feared that it rested on falsehood and lies; they secretly felt +that it was contrary to the will of God; an instinct in their souls +told them that it was opposed to the spirit of the age and the laws of +progress; and this fear made them frantic. + +When men's minds are in this state, they are like the glass toy called +a Rupert's bubble. A single scratch on the surface causes it to fly +in pieces. The scratch on the surface of the slave system which +caused it to rush into secession and civil war was the attempt of +John Brown on Harper's Ferry. It seemed a trifle, but it indicated a +great deal. It was the first drop of a coming storm. When one man was +able to lay down his life, in a conflict with their system, with such +courage and nobleness, in a cause not his own, a shudder ran through +the whole South. To what might this grow? And so they said, "Let us +cut ourselves wholly off from these dreadful fanaticisms, from these +terrible dangers. Let us make a community of our own, and shut out from +it entirely all antislavery opinion, and live only with those who think +as we do." And so came the end. + +In reviewing Mr. Wilson's work, we have thus seen how it describes +the gradual and simultaneous growth in the United States of two +hostile powers,--one political, the other moral. The one continued to +accumulate the outward forces which belong to the organization; the +other, the inward forces which are associated with enthusiasm. The one +added continually to its external strength by the passage of new laws, +the addition of new territory, the more absolute control of parties, +government, courts, the press, and the street. The other increased its +power by accumulating an intenser conviction, a clearer knowledge, a +firmer faith, and a more devoted consecration to its cause. The weapons +of the one were force, adroitness, and worldly interest; those of the +other, faith in God, in man, and in truth. + +Great truths draw to their side noble auxiliaries. So it was with the +antislavery movement. The heroism, the romance, the eloquence, the +best literature, the grandest forms of religion, the most generous +and purest characters,--all were brought to it by a sure affinity. +As Wordsworth said to Toussaint l'Ouverture, so it might be declared +here:-- + + "Thou hast great allies; + Thy friends are exaltations, agonies, + And love, and man's unconquerable mind." + +The best poets of America, Bryant, Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, were +in full sympathy with this cause, and their best poetry was their songs +for freedom. Shall we ever forget the caustic humor of "Hosea Biglow" +and "Birdofredum Sawin"? And how lofty a flight of inspiration did the +same bard take, when he chanted in verses nobler, as it seems to us, +than anything since Wordsworth's "Ode to Immortality," the Return of +the Heroes who had wrought salvation for the dear land "bright beyond +compare" among the nations! What heroism, what tenderness, what stern +rebuke, what noble satire, have attended every event in this long +struggle, from the lyre of Whittier! Nothing in Campbell excels the +ring of some of his trumpet-calls, nothing in Cowper the pathos of his +elegies over the martyrs of freedom. The best men and the best women +were always to be found at the meetings of the Antislavery Society. +There were to be seen such upright lawyers as Ellis Gray Loring and +Samuel E. Sewall and John A. Andrew, such eminent writers as Emerson, +such great preachers as Theodore Parker and Beecher, such editors as +Bryant and Greeley. To this cause did William Ellery Channing devote +his last years and best thoughts. If the churches as organizations +stood aloof, being only "timidly good," as organizations are apt +to be, the purest of their body were sure to be found in this great +company of latter-day saints. + +Antislavery men had their faults. They were often unjust to their +opponents, though unintentionally so. They were sometimes narrow and +bitter; and with them, as with all very earnest people, any difference +of opinion as to methods seemed to involve moral obliquity. But they +were doing the great work of the age,--the most necessary work of +all,--and much might be pardoned to their passionate love of justice +and humanity. In their meetings could be heard many of the ablest +speakers of the time, and one, the best of all. He held the silver bow +of Apollo, and dreadful was its clangor when he launched its shafts +against spiritual wickedness in high places. Those deadly arrows were +sometimes misdirected, and occasionally they struck the good men who +were meaning to do their duty. Such errors, we suppose, are incident +to all who are speaking and acting in such terrible earnest; in the +great day of accounts many mistakes will have to be rectified. But +surely among the goodly company of apostles and prophets, and in the +noble army of martyrs there assembled, few will be found more free from +the sins of selfish interest and personal ambition than those who in +Congress, in the pulpit, on the platform, or with the pen, fought the +great battle of American freedom. + +One great moral must be drawn from this story before we close. It +demonstrates, by a great historical proof, that no evil however +mighty, no abuse however deeply rooted, can resist the power of truth +faithfully uttered and steadily applied. If this great institution of +slavery, resting on such a foundation of enormous pecuniary interest, +buttressed by such powerful supports, fell in the life of a single +generation before the unaided power of truth, why should we ever +despair? Henceforth, whenever a mighty evil is to be assailed, or +a cruel despotism overthrown, men will look to this history of the +greatness and decadence of slavery; and, so encouraged, will believe +that God is on the side of justice, and that truth will always prevail +against error. + +But to this we must add, that it is only where free institutions exist +that truth has full power in such a conflict. We need free speech, +a free press, free schools, and free churches, in order that truth +may have a free course. The great advantage of a republic like ours +is, that it gives to truth a fair chance in its conflict with error. +The Southern States would long ago have abolished slavery if it had +possessed such institutions. But, though republican in form, the +Southern States were in reality an oligarchy, in which five millions +of whites and three millions of slaves were governed by the absolute +and irresponsible power of less than half a million of slaveholders. +Freedom was permitted by them except when this institution was +concerned, then it was absolutely forbidden. No book written against +their peculiar institution could be printed on any Southern press or +sold in any Southern bookstore. No newspaper attacking slavery was +allowed to be circulated through Southern mails. No public meeting +could be held to discuss the right and wrong of slavery. No minister +could preach against the system. No man could express, even in +conversation, his hostility to it, without risk of personal injury. +An espionage as sharp, and an inquisition as relentless as those of +Venice or Spain, governed society, at least in the cotton and sugar +States of the Union. But at the North opinion was free, and therefore +slavery fell. Fisher Ames compressed in an epigram the evil and good of +republican institutions. "In a monarchy," said he, "we are in a ship, +very comfortable while things go well; but strike a rock, and we go to +the bottom. In a republic, we are on a raft; our feet are wet, and it +is not always agreeable, but we are safe." It is a lasting proof of the +conservative power of free institutions, that they were able to uproot +such a system as slavery by creating a moral force capable of putting +it down; that they could carry us through a civil war, still leaving +the press and speech free: that they stood the strain of a presidential +election without taking from the voters a single right; and so, at +last, conquered a rebellion on so vast a scale that every European +monarchy, with its immense standing army, would have been powerless in +its presence. Let those Americans who are disposed to disparage their +own institutions bear this history in mind. We have evils here, and +great ones; but they come at once to the surface, and therefore can be +met and overcome by the power of intelligent opinion. So it has always +been in the past; so it will be, God aiding us, in the future. We are +about to meet the Centennial Anniversary of our national life; and on +that day we can look back to our fathers, the founders of the Republic, +and say to them,--"You gave us the inestimable blessing of free +institutions; we have used those institutions to destroy the only great +evil which you transmitted to us untouched. We now can send down the +Republic to our children, pure from this stain, and capable of enduring +IN SECULA SECULORUM." + + + The Riverside Press + + CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, U. S. A. + ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY + H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[1] See the argument to prove that it would not be difficult to climb +to heaven. + +[2] Simon Peter's attitude expresses astonishment and perplexity. He +holds out both hands, and seems to say, "It cannot be!" + +In Thaddeus we see suspicion, doubt, distrust. "I always suspected him." + +Matthew is speaking to Peter and Thomas, his hand held out toward +Jesus: "But I heard him say so." + +Thomas: "What can it mean? What will be the end?" + +James: (Hands spread wide apart in astonished perplexity:) "Is it +possible?" + +Philip has laid both hands on his breast, and leaning toward Jesus +says, "Lord, is it I?" + +At the other end, one is leaning forward, his hands resting on the +table, to catch the next words; one starting back, confused and +confounded. + +[3] _The North American Review_, February, 1881. + +[4] _The Independent_, 1882. + +[5] _The North American Review_, May, 1883. + +[6] _Buddha and Early Buddhism_. Truebner & Co., 1881. + +[7] _Hibbert Lectures_, 1882, page 291. + +[8] A. Reville: _Prolegomenes de l'Histoire des Religions_. + +[9] _Le Bouddha et sa Religion_, page 149, par J. Barthelemy +Saint-Hilaire, Paris. + +[10] Senart: _Essai sur la Legende du Buddha_. Paris, 1875. + +[11] Oldenberg: _Buddha, sein Leben, seine Lehre, seine Gemeinde_. +Berlin, 1881. This is one of the latest and best books on our subject. + +[12] _Three Lectures on Buddhism_: "Romantic Legend of Buddha," by +Samuel Beal. London, 1875. Eitel. + +[13] _Hibbert Lectures_: "Origin and Growth of Buddhism," by T. W. Rhys +Davids. 1881. + +[14] _Ibid._, page 143. + +[15] _Buddhistisch-Christliche Harmonie._ + +[16] P. E. Lucius: _Die Therapeuten und ihre Stellung_, &c. Strassburg, +1880. + +[17] _The North American Review_, October, 1887. + +[18] _The Atlantic Monthly_, October, 1874. + +[19] _The Intelligence and Perfectibility of Animals_, by C. G. Leroy. +Translated into English in 1870. _De l'Instinct et l'Intelligence des +Animaux_, par P. Flourens. Paris, 1864. + +[20] It is a mistake to say that the Tasmanians do not use fire. + +[21] _The Galaxy_, December, 1874. + +[22] Symposium in the _North American Review_, May, 1879. + +[23] In this brief paper it is not possible even to allude to the +objections which have been brought against the doctrine of final +causes. For these objections, and the answers to them, I would refer +the reader to the work of Janet, before mentioned. + +[24] _The Christian Examiner_, September, 1864. + +[25] _History of Friedrich the Second, called Frederick the Great_, by +Thomas Carlyle. In four volumes. Harper and Brothers, 1864. + +[26] + + "Tu se' lo mio maestro, e 'l mio autore, + O degli altri poeti onore e lume." + +[27] _Frederick the Great_, vol. ii. p. 223. + +[28] _The Christian Examiner_, November, 1861. + +[29] _History of Civilization in England._ By Henry Thomas Buckle. +Vols. I. and II. New York: D. Appleton and Company. + +[30] _Comm._ VI. 11, _et seq._ + +[31] _Germania._ + +[32] George Borrow, _The Zincali_. See also an excellent article by A. +G. Paspati, translated from Modern Greek by Rev. C. Hamlin, D. D., in +_Journal of American Oriental Society_, 1861. + +[33] See Vol. II. pp. 255-259, American edition. + +[34] _The Atlantic Monthly_, August, 1881. + +[35] _Life of Voltaire_, by James Parton. In two vols. Boston: +Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1886. + +[36] Voltaire himself, with his acute perception, seems to have been +one of the first to discover the absurdity of the representation of +Tiberius by Tacitus. + +[37] _Essai sur les Moeurs_, ch. cxxi. + +[38] Parton, ii. 549. + +[39] _Ibid._, ii. 551. + +[40] _Ibid._, i. 232. + +[41] Martin's _History of France_. + +[42] Parton, i. 461. + +[43] Martin's _History of France_. + +[44] A sermon preached May 7, 1882. + +[45] _The North American Review_, May, 1877. + +[46] _Harriet Martineau's Autobiography._ Edited by Maria Weston +Chapman. 2 vols. + +[47] For some reason she afterward saw fit partially to abandon this +self-denial, and allowed Mrs. Chapman to print any letters written to +herself by Miss Martineau. + +[48] "History of the Rise and Fall of the Slave Power in America," by +Henry Wilson, _North American Review_, January, 1875. + +[49] _Congressional Globe_ for February 6, 1837. + +[50] Rule adopted January 18, that all petitions relating to slavery be +laid on the table without any action being taken on them. + +[51] February 6, 7, 9, 11. + +[52] The writer of this article recalls a scene which occurred in +his presence in the United States Senate early in 1851. Mr. Clay was +speaking of the antislavery agitators and of the Free-Soil party, and +said, with much bitterness, "We have put them down,--down,--down, where +they will remain; down to a place so low, that they can never get up +again." John P. Hale, never at a loss for a reply, immediately arose +and said, "The Senator from Kentucky says that I and my friends have +been put down,--down,--down, where we shall have to stay. It may be +so. Indeed, if the Senator says so, I am afraid it _must_ be so. For, +if there is any good authority on this subject, any man who knows by +his own personal and constant experience what it is to be put down, +and to be kept down, it is the honorable Senator from Kentucky." Mr. +Clay's aspirations had been so often baffled, that this was a very keen +thrust. The writer spoke to Mr. Hale shortly after, and he said, "I do +not think Mr. Clay will forgive me that hit; but I could not help it. +They may have got us down, but they shall not trample upon us." + +[53] O'Connell, in an album belonging to John Howard Payne, writes this +sentence after his name. + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + +Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant +preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. + +Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced +quotation marks retained. + +Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. + +Page 39: "Appeltons' Journal" was punctuated that way in the original +book and on the masthead of the Journal itself. + +Page 46: "generalties" was spelled that way in the original book and in +some copies of "The Poestaster" itself. + +Page 220: Greek transliteration in curly braces was added by +Transcriber. + +Page 309: Opening quotation mark before "unfailing good sense" was +added by Transcriber. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Nineteenth Century Questions, by +James Freeman Clarke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINETEENTH CENTURY QUESTIONS *** + +***** This file should be named 44628.txt or 44628.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/6/2/44628/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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