MILL ON LIBERTY.

Any work from the pen of John Stuart Mill will arrest the attention of readers and thinkers wherever the English language is spoken, and, indeed, wherever the spirit of inquiry and improvement has aroused the intellect of man. This author has proved himself a veritable instructor and benefactor of his race. His writings have been always grave and valuable, addressed to the understanding of men, indicating arduous study on his own part, and eliciting reflection of the profoundest character in the mind of his reader. In his well known work 'On Logic,' published twenty years ago, he exhibited the highest capacity for abstract speculation, and placed himself by the side of Aristotle and Bacon in the rank of philosophers; while that 'On the Principles of Political Economy,' more practical in its aims, entitles him to the reputation of an able and enlightened statesman.

Last year we had published in this country, a treatise from the same fertile pen on the subject of 'Representative Government,' which, however, was subsequent in the order of composition to that which has just now appeared in the United States from the press of Ticknor & Fields, of Boston. Both these productions, that on 'Representative Government,' and that 'On Liberty,' are valuable to the American people, teaching lessons important to be learned even by them. From the nature of our institutions, and especially from the vainglorious sentiments too generally entertained by us, we are apt to consider ourselves so well versed in the principles of civil liberty and of representative government, as to be incapable of learning anything on these subjects, especially from English writers. Unfortunately, recent events are calculated rudely to disturb our self-satisfaction, and to arouse within us a serious distrust, not indeed of the principles embodied in our institutions, but of our practical ability to carry them out to their legitimate results, and thus to enjoy, fully and permanently, the advantages of the system of free government of which we have always been so boastful.

It is perhaps natural that the mass of the American people should conceive the whole of liberty as comprised in the privilege of voting, and its substantial benefits as being fully secured by the popular form of government. This, however, would be an inconsiderate conclusion, involving a most pernicious error; and so far is it from constituting any important part of the discussion, that in the whole of Mr. Mill's work, there is scarcely more than a glance at this aspect of the question. The liberty which the author investigates and commends by the most unanswerable arguments, is not that which is embodied in political institutions, so much as that which results from the liberal and enlightened spirit pervading and controlling the social organization. It is not the power to choose representatives and to make laws, but it is rather the privilege, in all proper cases, of being a law to one's self, and of representing in one's own individuality the peculiar ideas and capacities which each one is best fitted to unfold and develop for his own good without injury to society. Political tyranny, at this day, is by no means the chief danger to which men are anywhere exposed; and that subject has been so thoroughly understood in modern times, that books are hardly required now to be written upon it. It is social despotism—the tyranny of custom and opinion—which chiefly enlists the intellect of our philosophical and interesting author, though he does not fail to lay down the true limits of the legislative authority as well. He is thoroughly versed in the history of 'the struggle between liberty and authority,' which he says 'is the most conspicuous feature in the portions of history with which we are earliest familiar, particularly in that of Greece, Rome, and England. But in old times this contest was between subjects, or some classes of subjects, and the government. By liberty was meant protection against the tyranny of political rulers.' This struggle has been carried on for ages, until it has now come to be an axiom, universally received in civilized nations, that government is instituted solely for the good of the governed. And in the progress of amelioration and improvement, it has been supposed that the popular principle of universal suffrage, with frequent elections, and consequent responsibility of political agents, would effectually prevent the exercise of tyranny in governments; and this especially when governments are instituted under written constitutions, with powers limited and clearly defined therein. The people, through their chosen representatives, wielding the whole power of the national organization, could not be expected to tyrannize over themselves. Experience, however, soon proved that the tyranny of the majority in popular governments is to be guarded against quite as carefully as that of despotic rulers in any other form of polity. For, says Mr. Mill, 'when society is itself the tyrant—society collectively over the individuals which compose it—its means of tyrannizing are not restricted to the acts which it may do by the hands of its political functionaries.' The obvious truth of this statement needs no elaborate attempt at illustration. In all the departments of thought and action, of opinion and habit, the power of society over its separate members is tremendous and unlimited, sometimes penetrating 'deeply into the details of life, and enslaving the soul itself.' It would not be difficult for any man of intelligence and observation to recall instances, within his own knowledge, in which this arbitrary power of the community has been most unjustly exerted to oppress and injure individuals. The injury and oppression have been none the less, because their operation has been silent, attended with no physical force or legal restraint, but reaching only the mind and heart of the sufferer, crushing them with the moral weight of unjust opprobrium, and torturing them with all the ingenious appliances of social tyranny.

The remedy for this sort of despotism—the most dangerous of all, if not the only danger to be feared in civilized communities and in liberal governments—is not to be found in laws or constitutions, but in the enlightened liberality and trained habits and sentiments of society itself. 'Some,' says Mr. Mill, 'whenever they see any good to be done or any evil to be remedied, would willingly instigate the government to undertake the business; while others prefer to bear almost any amount of social evil, rather than to add one to the departments of human interests amenable to governmental control.' And, upon the whole, he thinks, 'the interference of government is, with about equal frequency, improperly invoked and improperly condemned.' The only device which Mr. Mill proposes, as the effectual means of counteracting this sort of tyranny, either political or social, is the establishment of a rule or principle, by which the limits of authority over individuals shall, in both cases, be strictly and philosophically defined. He does not undertake to say how this rule is to be enforced—by what sanctions, or by what authority it can be made effectual for the protection of individual rights. But as the evil to be remedied is one arising chiefly from the errors of public opinion, the corrective would naturally seem to be the inculcation of sound principles and just sentiments, infusing them into the social organization, and gradually enthroning them in the public conscience. The bare announcement of truth, in a matter of such transcendent importance, is an immense progress toward the goal of improvement. Principles, well founded and of real value, once understood, will eventually make their way. With all the errors of society, and the wrong-headed stubbornness and selfishness of humanity, with the immense obstructive power of established interests, the haughty despotism of old opinions, and the petrified rigidity of social customs, the solvent energy of truth nevertheless will penetrate every part of the imposing fabric, and gradually undermine its foundations. Underlying the whole, there is a broad foundation for improvement; and there is a natural tendency in society to seize upon and appropriate good, whenever fairly exhibited to its view and placed within its reach.

As embodying the general purpose of the author, and the principle which he seeks to establish, we give the following passage, in his own words:

'The object of this essay is to assert one very simple principle, as entitled to govern absolutely the dealings of society with the individual in the way of compulsion and control, whether the means used be physical force in the form of legal penalties, or the moral coercion of public opinion. That principle is, that the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear, because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinions of others, to do so would be wise, or even right. These are good reasons for remonstrating with him, or reasoning with him, or persuading him, but not for compelling him, or visiting him with any evil in case he do otherwise. To justify that, the conduct from which it is desired to deter him, must be calculated to produce evil to some one else. The only part of the conduct of any one, for which he is amenable to society, is that which concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.'

This statement has the great merit of being, at least, perfectly clear and definite. In some particular cases, the principle may be difficult of application; but in the principle itself, as defined in this passage, there is not the slightest uncertainty or indistinctness. The author is very careful, however, to except from its operation all persons who are not in the maturity of their faculties, as well as all those backward nations who are not capable of being improved by free and equal discussion. The condition of society in which alone this liberal maxim will be safe and appropriate, must be that of a people so far elevated and enlightened, that persuasion and conviction are the most powerful means of improvement. Wherever is to be found an advanced civilization, with all the complex moral and social relations which grow out of it, there the necessity for physical force will be found to have declined. Public opinion will have acquired great authority, if not absolute control; and the rights of individuals will require, for their protection against the overpowering weight of the social combination, all those safeguards against possible tyranny, which can only be afforded by the general acceptance of the liberal principle just quoted. The social authority must be educated and restrained by its own willing recognition of individual rights. As the power most likely to be abused for purposes of oppression is that of opinion and custom, too often operating silently and insidiously, the corrective is only to be applied by the establishment of a counteracting spiritual authority, in the bosom of society itself, at all times ready to utter its mandate and to proclaim the inviolable sanctity of individual liberty, within the limits fixed by enlightened reason and conscience. In the earlier stages of civilization, or in societies of more simple and primitive character, individual development has not reached the point which either requires such principles or admits of their application. The merely physical life of such people can hardly give rise to these questions: political power and actual force necessarily occupy the place of those subtle and all-pervading moral and social influences which prevail in the subsequent stages of progress. As men become more enlightened, they become also more capable of self-control, and are consequently entitled to greater liberty of action. Sooner or later, the necessity for conceding it to the utmost limit of the principle stated, will be fully acknowledged.

But it is notable that the author does not attempt to maintain his dogma on the ground of right or morality, but solely on that of a wise and broad utility. He foregoes all the advantage he might obtain in the argument by resorting to the moral considerations which sustain it. It is better for the real interests of society that individual members should enjoy the largest measure of liberty; and if this be not equivalent to the assertion that it is also their right, upon the plainest moral grounds, it is at least certain that the two principles are coincident in this case, as they will be found to be in all others, where the real interests of mankind are concerned. So true is it, that what ever, in a large sense, is best for the permanent advantage of any society is, at the same time, always right and consistent with sound moral principles.

In a matter of such vital importance as that of human liberty, which, in the language of another eminent writer, 'is the one thing most essential to the right development of individuals, and to the real grandeur of nations,' it was necessary that its foundations should be made so broad, in any correct philosophical analysis of its nature, as to comprehend the whole field of human activity. Accordingly, Mr. Mill includes within its proper domain the three great departments: consciousness, or the internal operations of our own minds; will, or the external manifestation of our thoughts and feelings in acts and habits; and lastly, association, or coöperation with others, voluntarily agreed upon, and not interfering with the rights and liberties of those who may choose to stand aloof from such combinations. In reference to the first of these, which asserts the undoubted right to enjoy our own thoughts and feelings, with absolute freedom of opinion on all subjects, Mr. Mill remarks that 'the liberty of expressing and publishing opinions may seem to fall under a different principle, since it belongs to that part of the conduct of an individual which concerns other people; but being almost of as much importance as the liberty of thought itself, and resting in great part on the same reasons, is practically inseparable from it.' But, in truth, the right of expression, which does not properly come under the head of consciousness or thought, but under that of will or action, is the only one of the two which at this day is of any practical importance. The idea of controlling thought or belief has, in effect, been everywhere abandoned. Indeed, it may be questioned whether any such control ever has been or could have been exercised; for thought itself could never be known except through some outward manifestation. It was therefore the expression which was punished, and not the inward consciousness. Opinions, it is true, have too often been the avowed ground of oppression and persecution. Men have been injured in various ways, on account of their known or suspected belief; even in modern times and in communities claiming to be free, political disabilities, social reprobation, and the stigma of disqualification as witnesses have been imposed upon persons entertaining certain views on theological questions. But these persecutions may have compelled the suppression or disavowal of obnoxious opinions, and may have made hypocrites; they never changed belief, or produced any other conviction than that of wrong and outrage. The soul itself is beyond the reach of any human authority, not to be conquered by any device of terror or torture.

Difference of opinion is unfortunately the ground of natural aversion among men; and it requires much enlightenment and liberal training to enable society to overcome this universal prejudice and to inaugurate complete and absolute toleration. 'In the present state of knowledge,' says Buckle, the historian, 'the majority of people are so ill informed, as not to be aware of the true nature of belief; they are not aware that all belief is involuntary and is entirely governed by the circumstances which produce it. What we call the will has no power over belief, and consequently a man is nowise responsible for his creed, except in so far as he is responsible for the events which gave him his creed.' It may be doubted whether the majority of people are quite so ignorant as Mr. Buckle here represents them; for the conflict between beliefs is rather the result of feeling or passion than of judgment. Because men who differ in opinion hate each other, it does not follow that they must therefore deny the right to freedom of thought, or maintain that belief may be changed at will. The red man and the white man may cordially hate each other; but it would hardly be accurate to say that the former denies the right of the latter to his color, or thinks him morally responsible for it. Yet men are quite as much responsible for the color of their skin as for the character of their honest convictions, and they have almost equal power to control the one or the other. In truth, the hatred arising from conflict of opinion is not the offspring of thought, but of emotion. It is chiefly a derangement of the affections; not so much an error of the reason. The most unenlightened man has the innate conviction that he is entitled to his peculiar belief, because it is impossible for him to admit any other; nor is it at all natural or necessary that one individual should question the sincerity of another's opinion on any subject, because it differs from his own. Intolerance in this particular has been the result mostly of interference and usurpation—the consequence of that theological despotism to which men have, in some form or other, in all ages, been more or less subjected.

It is not, therefore, the liberty of thought and belief that Mr. Mill finds it necessary to defend, in his exposition of the first division of the subject; but it is only that of expression and discussion—the liberty of the press—the right to make known opinions upon any subject, and to produce arguments in support of them. In this country, it may be supposed to be wholly unnecessary to investigate this subject, inasmuch as the liberty of the press is here maintained to the most unlimited extent. So far as the mere legal right is involved, this is undoubtedly true; the established laws interpose no impediment to the expression and publication of opinions, except those indispensable regulations which are intended to preserve the public peace and morality, and to protect private character from wanton injury. We have no reason to fear any invasion of the liberty of the press—any political interference with the right of free discussion—unless in times of great public danger, or, as Mr. Mill says, 'during some temporary panic, when fear of insurrection drives ministers and judges from their propriety.' But there is a despotism of society, in this country as well as elsewhere, which, independent of law or authority, often imposes silence on unpopular opinions, and suppresses all discussion, by means of those ten thousand appliances and expedients adopted by communities to express displeasure and to command obedience. Even, however, if there were not the slightest evidence of intolerance in the country, if the rational principles of liberty were universally acknowledged and practised upon, it would still be most useful and interesting to follow this author in his admirable discussion of the subject. It would be a matter of no little importance to understand the rational grounds on which the great and acknowledged principles of liberty are actually founded, and to see the perfect frankness and fearlessness with which this philosophic author follows the doctrine to its extreme but inevitable conclusions. For instance, Mr. Mill does not hesitate to say, 'if all mankind minus one, were of one opinion, and only one person were of the contrary opinion, mankind would be no more justified in silencing that one person, than he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind.' And this position is maintained not solely or chiefly on the ground of injustice to the person holding the obnoxious opinion, but because the forcible suppression of it would do even greater injustice to those who conscientiously reject it. For if the opinion be true, its establishment and dissemination would benefit mankind; and even if it be false, it is equally important it should be freely made known, inasmuch as it would contribute to 'the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth produced by its collision with error.' Besides, no man can certainly know that any opinion is true, so long as anything which can be said against it is not permitted to be presented and freely discussed. Liberty is the indispensable atmosphere of truth. Without it, truth will as surely languish and die, as animals or plants will perish without air. All great improvements have been accomplished only through the conflicts of adverse opinion. Progress is change, and if all discussion is prohibited, change and improvement are impossible.

It is interesting also to see the unlimited scope allowed to this bold doctrine, and the fearlessness with which it is applied to subjects usually deemed sacred and forbidden to all question or controversy. The existence of a God, the certainty of a future state, the truth of Christianity—all these are the proper subjects of free discussion and untrammelled opinion, quite as much as any other questions, however unimportant or indifferent. It becomes the devoutest Christian to hear discussions on these transcendent subjects without the least ill will or intolerance toward the adversary who may thus endeavor to shake his faith in those sublime truths which he holds indisputable and more sacred than all others. It is doing the highest possible service to the doctrines to attack them; for if they be sound and true, they will certainly survive, and be all the more glorious for having passed safely through the ordeal. Christianity itself was more vital and effective in its earlier stages, when fighting its way into existence against all sorts of persecutions, than it has ever been since in the palmiest days of its power. When its doctrines are no longer questioned, it will cease to be a living spirit controlling the hearts of men. It will be a cold and formal thing, resting on the general acquiescence, but no longer exhibiting its all-conquering power in the active effort to overthrow opposing creeds.

No genuine liberty can exist, until the community shall have reached that elevated condition of liberality and wisdom which will gladly submit its most cherished sentiments to the analysis of unsparing logic, and that without the least effort to punish, in any way, the daring attempt to undermine its faith. The champions of truth will be strengthened by the encounter with error; weak and false arguments, which really injure truth, will give way, and the solid foundations of impregnable logic will be substituted in their place. It is impossible to overestimate the service done to a good cause, by exposing it fearlessly to the worst attacks of its enemies. 'The fatal tendency of mankind to leave off thinking about a thing when it is no longer doubtful, is the cause of half their errors. A contemporary author has well spoken of 'the deep slumber of a decided opinion.'' And another author enthusiastically exclaims: 'All hail, therefore, to those who, by attacking a truth, prevent that truth from slumbering. All hail to those bold and fearless natures, the heretics and innovators of the day, who, rousing men out of their lazy sleep, sound in their ears the tocsin and the clarion, and force them to come forth that they may do battle for their creed. Of all evils, torpor is the most deadly. Give us paradox, give us error, give us what you will, so that you save us from stagnation. It is the cold spirit of routine which is the nightshade of our nature. It sits upon men like a blight, blunting their faculties, withering their powers, and making them both unable and unwilling to struggle for the truth, or to figure to themselves what it is they really believe.'

The chapter which Mr. Mill devotes to this subject—the liberty of discussion and publication—is thoroughly exhaustive in its character. It presents the question in almost every light in which it is desirable to see it, and successfully meets every objection which can be made to his doctrine. For the first time, a logical and philosophical exposition of the great principles of liberty is presented to the world, and that too in a most readable and attractive form. The work is calculated to do immense good. It places liberty on a rational foundation, and dispels every doubt which might have been entertained by the timid, as to the safety and propriety of permitting free discussion on those points of belief which are too often held to be beyond the domain of investigation and argument. We do not pretend, here, to give anything like a synopsis of the grounds assumed, and the reasonings adopted by the author. A full and correct idea of these can only be obtained from the book itself. But before leaving this part of the work, we cannot forbear quoting a passage on this subject from an essay by Henry Thomas Buckle. Even at the risk of prolonging this article beyond its proper limits, we quote at some length, on account of the vast interest of the topic and the different notions which too generally prevail as to the propriety of its discussion:

'If they who deny the immortality of the soul, could, without the least opprobrium, state in the boldest manner all their objections, the advocates of the doctrine would be obliged to reconsider their own position and to abandon its untenable points. By this means, that which I revere, and an overwhelming majority of us revere, as a glorious truth, would be immensely strengthened. It would be strengthened by being deprived of those sophistical arguments which are commonly urged in its favor, and which give to its enemies an incalculable advantage. It would moreover be strengthened by that feeling of security which men have in their own convictions, when they know that everything is said against them which can be said, and that their opponents have a fair and liberal hearing. This begets a magnanimity and a rational confidence which cannot otherwise be obtained. But, such results can never happen while we are so timid, or so dishonest, as to impute improper motives to those who assail our religious opinions. We may rely upon it that as long as we look upon an atheistical writer as a moral offender, or even as long as we glance at him with suspicion, atheism will remain a standing and permanent danger, because, skulking in hidden corners, it will use stratagems which their secrecy will prevent us from baffling; it will practise artifices to which the persecuted are forced to resort; it will number its concealed proselytes to an extent of which only they who have studied this painful subject are aware; and, above all, by enabling them to complain of the treatment to which they are exposed, it will excite the sympathy of many high and generous natures, who, in an open and manly warfare, might strive against them, but who, by a noble instinct, find themselves incapable of contending with any sect which is oppressed, maligned, or intimidated.'

The most interesting, and perhaps the most remarkable part of Mr. Mill's book, is that which he devotes to individuality as one of the elements of well being. Having very fully discussed the question of liberty in thought and expression—the right of controlling one's own mind, and of making known its conclusions—he proceeds to apply the same principle to the conduct and whole scheme of human life, maintaining that every man ought to be entirely free to act according to his own taste and judgment in all matters which concern only himself. The sole condition or limitation which society may rightfully impose upon the eccentricities of individuals, is the equal right of all others to be unmolested and unobstructed in their occupations and enjoyments. Every man is endowed with faculties, capacities, and dispositions peculiar to himself, there being quite as much diversity in the mental character of men as in their physical appearance. It is this infinite diversity of thought and feeling, as much perhaps as anything else, which distinguishes man from the lower animals. It is of the utmost importance to the progress of society, for it is only by departing from the common path, and pursuing new and untried modes of existence and action, that improvements are gradually made. If there were no disposition on the part of individuals to deviate from the ordinary customs which have descended from generation to generation, it is evident there would never be any important change in the modes of human life nor in the institutions of mankind, and if there could be any improvement at all, it would be extremely slow and unimportant. It is the peculiarities of individuals which alone can furnish the points of departure for new modes of action and new plans of life. Hence it is not less the right of individuals than it is the interest of the race that every one should not only be permitted, but should even be encouraged to follow the dictates of his own genius, with the most perfect and unlimited freedom consistent with the peace and security of other men. Each one of the numberless buds on a full-grown tree is the germ of another individual precisely similar to the one from which it is taken. But if new trees are propagated from these buds, they will exhibit not the slightest diversity in character from that of the parent stock. It is only from the seed, original centres of vitality and individuality that new varieties are produced and improvements obtained either in the flower or the fruit. So in human society: if each life is only an offshoot from the main body—a mere bud from the parent tree—with no diversities in character, and no salient points of original activity, it is evident that men would remain substantially the same from generation to generation, and society would stand still forever. Such, it is well known, is the case in those Eastern nations in which a rigid system of caste prevails, the same positions and occupations descending from father to son, without the possibility of one generation escaping from the fatal routine to which its predecessor was subjected.

Hence it is that Mr. Mill, with great earnestness, insists that 'there should be different experiments in living,' and 'that the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically, when any one thinks fit to try them;' for, he continues, 'where not the person's own character, but the traditions and customs of other people are the rule of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human happiness, and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social progress.' Undoubtedly, that man who acts in conformity with his own nature and disposition, if they do not mislead and betray him, will have greater satisfaction and enjoyment than he who is constrained by the opinions or authority of others to pursue courses not conformable to his taste and judgment. That which men naturally incline to undertake and ardently desire to accomplish, is usually that which they are best fitted to do, and which will give the most appropriate exercise to their peculiar faculties. It is evidently the general interest that every individual in society should be employed in that peculiar work which he can best perform. More will be effected, with less dissatisfaction and suffering. And obviously, no better mode can be devised to put every man to the thing for which he is capacitated by nature, than to give full scope to his individuality, under the multiplied and powerful influences which liberal education and elevated society are calculated to exert in impelling him forward. The effect will be not only to do more for society as a whole, but to make superior men by means of self-education. 'He who does anything because it is the custom, makes no choice. He gains no practice either in discerning or desiring what is best. The mental and moral, like the muscular powers, are improved only by being used. The faculties are called into no exercise by doing a thing merely because others do it, no more than by believing a thing only because others believe it. If the grounds of an opinion are not conclusive to a person's own reason, his reason cannot be strengthened, but is likely to be weakened by adopting it: and if the inducements to an act are not such as are consentaneous to his own feelings and character (where affection or the rights of others are not concerned), it is so much done toward rendering his feelings and character inert and torpid, instead of active and energetic.'

Against these views, and, indeed, against the great body of valuable thoughts so admirably presented in this work, no rational objection would seem to be fairly adducible. But there are some very striking passages liable to a very different criticism—passages which, if not founded on actual misconception of facts, are, at least, so exaggerated in statement as to require very material modifications, both as to the existence of the evil they allege and the remedy they propose. Mr. Mill complains of the despotism of society as having utterly suppressed all spontaneity or individuality, and reduced the mass of mankind to a condition of lamentable uniformity. He thinks this evil has not only gone to a dangerous extent already, but that it threatens a still further invasion of individual liberty with even greater disasters in its train. It is better, however, to let Mr. Mill speak for himself in the following passages:

'But society has now fairly got the better of individuality; and the danger which threatens human nature is not the excess but the deficiency of personal impulses and preferences.' * * *

'In our times, from the highest class of society down to the lowest, every one lives as under the eye of a hostile and dreaded censorship.' * * *

'I do not mean that they choose what is customary, in preference to what suits their inclination. It does not occur to them to have any inclination except for what is customary. Thus the mind itself is bowed to the yoke; even in what people do for pleasure, conformity is the first thing thought of; they like in crowds; they exercise choice only among things commonly done; peculiarity of taste, eccentricity of conduct, are shunned equally with crimes; until by dint of not following their own nature they have no nature to follow; their human capacities are withered and starved; they become incapable of any strong wishes or native pleasures, and are generally without either opinions or feelings of home growth or properly their own.'

And so, speaking of men of genius as being less capable than other persons 'of fitting themselves, without hurtful compression, into any of the small number of moulds which society provides in order to save its members the trouble of forming their own character,' he continues:

'If they are of a strong character and break their fetters, they become a mark for the society which has not succeeded in reducing them to commonplace, to point at with solemn warning, as 'wild,' 'erratic,' and the like; much as if one should complain of the Niagara river for not flowing smoothly between its banks like a Dutch canal.'

Mr. Buckle also bears testimony to the same effect in the following language:

'The immense mass of mankind are, in regard to their usages, in a state of social slavery; each man being bound under heavy penalties, to conform to the standard of life common to his own class. How serious these penalties are, is evident from the fact that though innumerable persons complain of prevailing customs, and wish to shake them off, they dare not do so, but continue to practise them, though frequently at the expense of health, comfort, and fortune. Men not cowards in other respects, and of a fair share of moral courage, are afraid to rebel against this grievous and exacting tyranny.'

Now, we are decidedly of opinion that the expressions used by both these eminent writers are altogether too strong. We think it is true, both in Europe and America, that whenever the masses of society recognize a man of real genius, they are ever ready to welcome him with all his peculiarities—not merely to overlook his ordinary eccentricities, but to pardon grave offences against morality, and even to imitate his errors. It may well be that the multitude are not quick to distinguish superiority; though with the proper information and opportunity of judging, they seldom fail instinctively to appreciate great qualities, especially if these be such as relate to practical life, or artistic development, rather than to abstract and speculative science. Men addicted to pursuits of the latter kind, make their merits known more slowly; but when they are known, they command unbounded respect in society.

The real difficulty, unfortunately, is, that the vast majority of men are not gifted with marked individuality, or great genius. They do not break through the trammels of custom, not so much because these trammels are strong, as because their impulses are weak. Whenever a man of real energy appears, the crowd separates before him, the cobwebs of custom are brushed away as he advances, and the world receives him very generally for what he is worth, and too often for more. That impostors and pretenders frequently succeed in deceiving society, is owing to the fact that it is ever anxious and ready to receive and reward its benefactors.

But even Mr. Mill himself recognizes the wisdom of paying due deference to the experience of mankind, and of considering established customs as prima facie good, and proper to be followed. He admits 'that people should be so taught and trained in youth, as to know and benefit by the ascertained results of human experience,' and that 'the traditions and customs of other people are, to a certain extent, evidence of what their experience has taught them; presumptive evidence, and as such, have a claim to his deference.' From all which, it is plain that there is a just medium between what is recognized and established, and what is newly proposed as a substitute for the old. The masses of mankind are incapable of judging between the value of prevailing usages and novel practices; much less are they capable themselves of striking out new paths fit to be followed by their fellow men. The true difficulty then is the want of energetic individuality and original genius, rather than the want of a field for the exhibition of their power, or an opportunity for their exertion. It cannot be denied, however, that there is a certain inertia in society, requiring no little exertion to overcome it, even in the case of unquestionable improvements. But this is unavoidable, and at the same time most fortunate for the safety of mankind; for otherwise, we should be subjected to perpetual changes and sudden convulsions, which would make even progress itself a doubtful good.

There is also another important aspect in which this question may be advantageously considered. No one doubts that coöperation in society contributes vastly to the increase of human power, production, and happiness. Unanimity in sentiment promotes harmony, and contributes to prosperity. Nor will it be denied that if truth could be certainly attained upon any point whatever, it would be desirable that it should be universally recognized and accepted. Undoubtedly, if any man in the community should be disposed to dispute that truth, he ought to be permitted freely to do so; but we cannot see that this opposition would be better than his acquiescence. Now, the problem is to reconcile the degree of unanimity and coöperation which is requisite for the full exertion of social power, with that amount of individuality which would be useful in promoting a progressive change. Spontaneity or originality is disintegrating in its immediate tendency. It disturbs the order of society, though, in the end, on the whole, it is advantageous. Thus we have the tenacity of old habits and prevailing sentiments on the one hand, tending to the harmony of society, and enabling all its members to coöperate in the great works which make communities powerful. On the other hand, we have the sporadic and disturbing efforts of individual genius, ever seeking to withdraw the social current into new channels, and eventually, through many trials, errors, failures, and triumphs, alluring and leading it into better paths. It is not good for society that either of these conflicting forces should gain the decided ascendency; nor do we believe with Mr. Mill, that the preponderance at the present time belongs to the former.

As to the influence of fashion, which is evidently alluded to in the passages quoted, that plainly stands on a different and peculiar footing. It has a double power to enforce its decrees. The one is economical and commercial—the power of capital to control productions, and the advantages of producing largely after a few forms or patterns; the other is the social or psychological influence—the natural sympathy among men which induces uniformity of dress and habit. Extravagant excess often rules. Yet there is never wanting in the public of all civilized countries, a disposition to adopt improvements when they contribute to the general convenience, economy, and happiness; and we believe, on the whole, the tendency is to become more and more rational every day. Besides, a certain degree of uniformity is desirable in this as in all other things. No little loss and inconvenience would ensue if the fancies of every individual were permitted to run riot, and no man's taste were modified by that of his neighbor, or controlled by the general inclination. It is impossible to conceive the motley and discordant mass which a community of such people would present.

The bearing of these social phenomena in other directions and upon other interests, is the subject of equal condemnation by the author. The effect upon government, and the general tendency of the democratic principle, are represented in such highly colored pictures as these:

'In sober truth, whatever homage may be professed, or even paid to real or supposed mental superiority, the general tendency of things throughout the world is to render mediocrity the ascendant power among mankind.

'At present, individuals are lost in the crowd. In politics it is almost a triviality to say that public opinion rules the world. The only power deserving the name is that of masses, and of governments, while they make themselves the organ of the tendencies and instincts of masses. This is as true in the moral and social relations of private life as in public transactions. Those whose opinions go by the name of public opinions, are not always the same sort of public; in America they are the whole white population; in England, chiefly the middle class. But they are always a mass, that is to say, collective mediocrity.

'Their thinking is done for them by one mind like themselves, addressing them or speaking in their name, on the spur of the moment, through the newspapers. I do not assert that anything better is compatible, as a general rule, with the present low state of the human mind. But that does not hinder the government of mediocrity from being mediocre government. No government by a democracy or a numerous aristocracy, either in its political acts, or in the opinions, qualities, and tone of mind which it fosters, ever did or could rise above mediocrity, except in so far as the sovereign many may have let themselves be guided (which in their best times they have always done) by the counsels and influence of a more highly gifted and instructed One or Few. The initiation of all wise or noble things comes and must come from individuals; generally at first from some one individual.'

In all this there is too much truth; but it is truth which is wholly unavoidable. Nor are the circumstances complained of peculiar to the present age, or to the institutions which now generally prevail. Democratic and representative forms of government have so degenerated, as to fail in the vital point of bringing the best and ablest men to the control of affairs. But has any more despotic or hereditary form been equally successful, in the long run, in promoting the freedom, progress, and grandeur of nations? Is the mediocrity of a whole people more injurious to humanity than the precarious superiority of distinguished families, or the selfish power of haughty privileged classes? One important consideration seems to be overlooked by Mr. Mill in these one-sided views of the present condition of society; and that is, the comparatively greater elevation and improvement of the whole mass of civilized communities; and the question is suggested, whether humanity is more interested in the mediocre power of the millions, or the exceptional greatness of a few men of extraordinary genius; whether the influence of individual originality is actually lost to the world, because it is apparently overshadowed by the moderate intelligence of the countless masses of men. We maintain that the loss of this influence is not real, but merely apparent: like some great wave in the boundless ocean, it seems to sink into the quiet surface, while in truth its effects are necessarily felt on the shores of the most distant continents and islands. Society, at the present time, is in a state of transition; it is engaged in absorbing ideas and influences which seem utterly to disappear in its fathomless depths, while it is simply preparing for higher exertions and nobler conquests over ignorance and tyranny.

One thing at least may be said with obvious truth, and with certainty of large compensation for the evils supposed to exist in the present condition of society, as represented by Mr. Mill; it is this: if public opinion is so omnipotent in the enforcement of mediocre schemes and ideas, it can bring to bear a vast fund of power, whenever real genius may be so fortunate as to make itself felt and respected. No man having any faith in humanity, not even Mr. Mill himself, will deny the power of individual genius to make its impression even on the mediocre masses; for that would be to deny the essential nature and efficiency of originality, and its capacity to accomplish the work which it is destined to do for the benefit of mankind. Actual conditions at the present moment, may possibly place unusual obstructions in the way of genius; though the entire freedom and accessibility of the press would seem to negative that view. At any rate, it follows from the very premises of Mr. Mill and those who think with him, that the actual organization of society, of which he complains, if it can be wielded in the interest of great ideas, is possessed of an authority which will make its decrees irresistible. In this fact we see ground of hope, rather than of despair, for the future of mankind. Mediocrity cannot always hold the reins and direct the progress of human society.

In his work on representative government, Mr. Mill fully recognizes the operation of free institutions as 'an agency of national education;' and he well says, 'a representative constitution is a means of bringing the general standard of intelligence and honesty existing in the community, and the individual intellect and virtue of its wisest members more directly to bear upon the government, and investing them with greater influence in it than they would have under any other mode of organization.' It cannot be otherwise. The masses are gradually rising in intelligence, as well as in the capacity and disposition to recognize and receive real superiority wherever it may be found. Certain cumbrous machinery heretofore used in social and political action, now stands in the way of free and efficient efforts to reach the best results. But these impediments will soon be swept away. They cannot remain eternally in the path of society; for, if by no other means, they will be removed by the flood of discontent and denunciation which now surges violently against them, and threatens them every instant with demolition and destruction.