That part of Mr. Chase's financial system which is most questionable, and which affords his assailants a fulcrum for their attacks, is its interference with the State banks and with the currency which they have been supplying to the country. The issuance of Treasury notes in the form of a circulating medium, and with the qualities of a legal tender, has revolutionized the whole currency and exchanges of the country, and has given universal satisfaction to the people. But this popular judgment is by no means an unerring test of the wisdom or safety of such a measure. Its necessity, however, and its eminent success will forever stamp it as an expedient of great usefulness and value, especially as the Secretary has most judiciously arrested the system at that point where its unquestionable advantages still outweigh its acknowledged dangers and inconveniences. He informs us that these issues 'were wanted to fill the vacuum caused by the disappearance of coin, and to supply the additional demands created by the increased number and variety of payments;' and he adds: 'Congress believed that four hundred millions would suffice for these purposes, and therefore limited issues to that sum. The Secretary proposes no change of this limitation and places no reliance therefore on any increase of resources from increase of circulation. Additional loans in this mode would indeed almost certainly prove illusory; for diminished value could hardly fail to neutralize increased amount.'

In consequence of these issues, the average rate of interest on the whole public debt on the 1st of July last, was only 3.77 per centum, and on the 1st of October, 3.95 per centum.

It was to be expected that the banks, which have heretofore had an entire monopoly of the paper circulation, and of the large profits derived from its legitimate use, as well as from its disastrous and sometimes dishonest irregularities, would not very cordially receive the system which is destined to supersede their present organization entirely. The Secretary justly exults in the advantages of the sound and uniform circulation which he has afforded in all parts of the country. And as to the depreciation of the Treasury notes in comparison with gold, he reasons, with great force and truth, that the greater part of it is attributable to 'the large amount of bank notes yet in circulation,' remarking at the same time, that 'were these notes withdrawn from use, that much of the now very considerable difference between coin and United States notes would disappear.' Whether this belief of the Secretary be well founded or not, nothing can be more certain than the superiority of the Treasury notes to those of the mass of suspended banks, as they would have been after three years of the present war. It is frightful to think of the condition to which the currency would have been reduced at this time, if the Government had been guilty of the folly of conducting its immense operations in the suspended paper of irresponsible local banks. No one can doubt that the Treasury notes have been of immense service to the nation in its hour of trial; and if the limitation proposed by the Secretary shall be faithfully maintained, there need not be the slightest fear of any difficulty or discredit in the future. Upon the return of peace the whole issue will be easily absorbed and redeemed, either by the process of funding, or more gradually in the ordinary transactions of the Government.

On a kindred subject, that of the high prices at present prevailing, let Mr. Chase speak for himself. This statement is so direct and pertinent that nothing could well be added. He says:

'It is an error to suppose that the increase of prices is attributable wholly or in very large measure to this circulation. Had it been possible to borrow coin enough, and fast enough, for the disbursements of the war, almost if not altogether the same effects on prices would have been wrought. Such disbursements made in coin would have enriched fortunate contractors, stimulated lavish expenditures, and so inflated prices in the same way and nearly to the same extent as when made in notes. Prices, too, would have risen from other causes. The withdrawal from mechanical and agricultural occupations of hundreds of thousands of our best, strongest, and most active workers, in obedience to their country's summons to the field, would, under any system of currency, have increased the price of labor, and, by consequence, the price of the products of labor,' &c.

It is impossible to deny the force of this statement; and upon the whole we must acknowledge that most of the evils which have been attributed to the financial policy of the Government were inherent in the very nature of the situation, and would have developed themselves, more or less, under any system which could have been adopted. It is very obvious that they might have been greatly aggravated by slight changes; but it is not easy to see how they could have been more skilfully met and parried than by the measures which have actually yielded such brilliant results.

The most signal triumph of Mr. Chase's whole system of finance is to be found in the truly marvellous success of his favorite five-twenty bonds. Even at the present time the public enthusiasm for these securities seems to be unabated, and it is more than probable that the whole amount authorized to be issued will be taken up quite as rapidly as the bonds can be prepared or as the money may be required.

Not without good reason does the Secretary attribute the 'faith' thus shown by the people 'in the securities of the Government,' to his national banking law and the prospective establishment of a currency 'secured by a pledge of national bonds,' and destined at no distant day to 'take the place of the heterogeneous corporate currency which has hitherto filled the channels of circulation.' The idea of thus making tributary to the Government in its present emergency the whole banking capital of the country, or at least so much of it as may be employed in furnishing a paper circulation for commercial transactions, was as bold and magnificent as it has proved successful. Nothing less than the national credit is sufficiently solid and enduring to be the basis of a paper currency throughout the vast extent of our country. It is eminently fit that this perfect solidarity of the central government with those who furnish paper money for the people of every locality, should be required and maintained on a proper basis. But the currency thus provided is not liable to any of the objections properly urged against a paper circulation issued by the Government itself; it is issued by individuals or companies, and secured only by such national stocks as have been created in the necessary operations of the nation itself. The system does not constitute a national bank or banks in the sense of that term as heretofore used in our history. It does nothing more than assume that indispensable control over the long-neglected currency of the country which is at once the privilege and the duty of the National Government. It has authority to pronounce the supreme law among all the States; and if there be any subject of legislation requiring the unity to be derived from the exercise of such authority, it is, above everything else, that common medium of exchange which measures and regulates the countless daily commercial transactions of our immense territory. The system involves no participation by the Government in any banking operations; no partnership in any possible speculations, great or small; no interference, direct or indirect, with the legitimate business of the country: it is only a wise and efficient device, by which the Government assures to the people the soundness of the paper which may be imposed upon them for money.

The greatest merit of the scheme consists in the fact that it is intended to supersede that irregular and unsatisfactory system of banking which is based on a similar pledge of the credit of the several States. It is said to be hostile to the existing banks; but it is only so in so far as it requires a change of the basis of their credit from State to National securities. The measure was not conceived in any unfriendly spirit toward those institutions. It was necessary for the National Government to assert its own superiority, and thus to strengthen itself, at the same time that it sought to protect the people by securing them a uniform currency and equable exchanges.

Some murmurs of opposition have been heard from a quarter well understood; but the good sense of the people, and, we hope, of the holders of State bonds themselves, seems to have quickly suppressed these complaints. A war of the State banks on the Government, at this time and on this ground, might well be deplored; but the issue would not be doubtful. Mr. Chase occupies the vantage ground, and he would be victorious over these, as the country is destined to be over all other enemies.

At no other time could so fundamental a change in our system of currency have been proposed with the slightest chance of success; and, upon the whole, it was a grand and happy conception, in the midst of this tremendous war, to make its gigantic fiscal necessities contribute to the permanent uniformity of the currency and of the domestic exchanges. For this great measure is no temporary expedient. Its success is bound up with the stability of the Government; and if this endures, the good effects of the new system will be felt and appreciated in future years, long after the unhappy convulsion which gave it birth shall have passed away. It will serve to smooth the path from horrid war to peace, and to hasten the return of national prosperity; and when experience shall have fully perfected its organization, it may well be expected, by the generality of its operation and its great momentum, to act as the great natural regulator of enterprise and business in our country.

If these grand achievements in finance have had so important an influence in sustaining the war for the Union, it is not likely they will fail to constitute a large element in controlling the political events of the immediate future. Their author is well known to entertain the soundest views in reference to the thoroughness of the measures necessary to restore harmony in the Union, without being of that extreme and impracticable school whose policy would render union uncertain or impossible; and if a ripe experience in public affairs and the most brilliant success in transactions of great delicacy and difficulty, as well as of the most vital importance to the triumph of our arms, are of any value, they cannot be without their due and proper weight in the crisis which is fast approaching.

The election of next fall will take place under circumstances dangerous to the stability of our institutions, and trying to the virtue and wisdom of the American people. We are compelled to undergo that great trial, either in the midst of a mighty civil war, or in the confusion and uncertainty of its recent close, with the legacy of all its tremendous difficulties to adjust and settle. Even in quiet times, the Presidential election is an event of deep significance in our political history; but at such times, the ordinary stream of affairs will flow on quietly in spite of many obstructions; and even the errors and follies of the people consequent on the intrigues of politicians and the strife of parties, are not then likely to be fatal to the public security. In the midst of the tempest, however, or even in the rough sea, where the subsiding winds have left us crippled and exhausted, and far away from our true course, we have need of all the skill, experience, integrity, and wisdom which it is possible to call into the service of the country. But it is the skill and experience of the statesman, not of the warrior, which the occasion requires. To our great and successful generals, the gratitude of the people will be unbounded; and it will be exhibited in every noble form of expression and action becoming a just and generous nation. But civil station is not the appropriate reward of military services, except in rare cases, when capacity and fitness for its duties have been fully established. To conduct a great campaign and to gain important victories is evidence of great ability in achieving physical results by the organized agency and force of armies; it does not necessarily follow that the great general is an able statesman or a safe counsellor in the cabinet or in the legislative assembly. The functions to be performed in the two cases are wholly dissimilar, if not actually opposite in nature. War is the reign of force, and is essentially arbitrary in its decisions and violent in its mode of enforcing them: civil government, on the other hand, is the embodiment of law, and it ought to be the perfection of reason; its instrumentalities are eminently peaceful and antagonistic to all violence.

In times like the present, there is always a tendency to appropriate the popularity of some great and patriotic soldier, and make it available for the promotion of personal or party ends. Success in that sinister policy will no doubt often prove to be only an aggravation of ordinary party strategy, by which the vital questions of capacity and fitness are made subordinate to that of availability. We have in our history too many instances of such intrigues and their dangerous consequences, to admit of their success at the present time, though they come in the seductive form of military glory. The degenerate system of party strategy culminated seven years ago in the election of James Buchanan. In pursuance of the secret and treacherous preparations for the present infamous rebellion, the people were ignorantly and blindly led by cunning intrigue into that fatal mistake; but it was not less the circumstances of the tunes and the sinister combination of parties, than the weakness and wickedness of the man chosen, which gave him the immense power for mischief which he wielded against his country. The complications of the approaching crisis will not be less controlling in their power to bring about the ruin or the restoration of the republic. In the uncertain contingencies and possible combinations of opinion and interest destined to grow out of the immediate future, no man can foresee what dangers and difficulties will arise. The only path of safety lies in the straight line of consistent action; avoiding sinister expedients and untried men; despising the arts of the demagogue, when they present themselves in the most specious of all forms, that of using military success as the pretext for ambitious designs; and doing justice to the great soldier, as a soldier, according to the value of his achievements, not forgetting that 'peace hath her victories not less renowned than those of war,' and that the faithful and able statesman cannot be overlooked and set aside amid the glare of arms, without danger to the best interests of the republic.



ASPIRO.—A FABLE.

Then my life was like a dream in which we guess at God-thoughts. I was so completely absorbed in my love that I marked the lapse of time only by the delicate varyings of my mistress's beauty, or the deepening spell of her royal rule. I was delirious with the delight of her presence, which comprised to me all types of excellence. Within her eyes the sapphire gates of heaven unclosed to me; in the splendor of lustred hair was life-warmth.

—And had I forgot?—the red lips I crushed like rose-leaves on my own—the tender eyes that plead 'remember me'—the faded rosemary which we culled together—the vows with which I said that love like ours was never false, nor parting fatal. Had I forgot? Could this Aspiro of my worship quite dispel my youth-dream—had her infatuating presence quite eclipsed my memory of Christine?—

Alas! I had not meant to be inconstant, but while I strove sullenly for success in uncongenial occupation, she came to me—Aspiro—came like the truth and light, and taught me to myself.

For a long time I doubted and resisted; though she tempted me, making real the dreams of my shy, worshipful childhood, teaching me the meanings of treasured stories which I had listened to from flower-sprite and river-god, leading and wooing me with lovelier lures than even Nature's; for tropical bird-song and falling water was harsh to her voice, and dew-dripped lilies dim to her brow. But I shut my dazzled eyes at first from these, and strove to see only the face whereon, with tender kisses, I had sealed my future—having narrow aims; till the vision faded despairingly, and even closed lids would not recall it, and my weak resistance seemed but to strengthen the sway that bore me willingly away.

Over and over I told the rosary of Aspiro's charms. Hour by hour I wearied not of her perfections. With burning vows and rapturous words I pledged my life to her.

Once when the wind was sweeping her gay garments, like hope-banners, against my limbs, and tangling her long, loose hair about me—once when I was blind with the jewel-dazzle from her breast, thrilled by the passion-pressure of her hand, she said, in saddest, sweetest tones:

'I am erratic, Paulo, and exacting—will you tire of me!'

O Immortality! Did not that seem sacrilege!

Like curlew's wings flapped the white sails of the ship on the blue waters. Aspiro's eyes absorbed my mind and memory. The past was voiceless—the future clarion-toned. So we loosed our hold of the real past, and drifted toward an ideal future.

We wandered through apocalyptic mazes, startling the hush of mystery with daring footsteps. We brake the bread of the cosmic sacrament in sight of the Inaccessible.

In the metallic mirrors of Arctic lakes we watched the wind-whipped clouds. Mute we knelt in the ice-temples of Silence, and where the glaciers shatter the rainbows we renewed our promises.

Wet sat at the universal banquet, and drank deep of Beauty. Cheek pressed to cheek, arms interlaced, we sighed in the consecrated throes of its reproduction, and in the imagery of Art we lisped Creation's lessons.

From height to height and depth to depth. Lagging in low canoes along the black waters of silent swamps—life-left—seeing the far-off blue of sky and hope between the warning points of cypress spires. Across the stretch of yellow sands, seeking her riddle of the Sphinx, and asking from the Runic records of one dead faith, and the sand-buried temples of another, the aim of the True.

Or clouds or rocks or winds or waves, the mutable or the unchangeable was in turn the theme of our reproductive praise. There were transfigurations on the mountain tops, where the spirit of the universe wore shining garbs and hailed us, their Interpreters. From every wave stretched Undine arms to greet us, and tongues of flame taught us the glories of the element.

Sometimes in giddy pauses shone sad eyes—yet not reproachful on me; but if I sighed in answer to their shining, Aspiro dazzled in betwixt me and my memory, and bade me 'cease not striving,' while her white finger pointed farther onward. For our love-life was a striving, and life's best porcelain was like common clay for fashioning vessels for its use.

I gave up all to her, time, talent, ingenuity. Studying for her caprices and struggling for her pleasure. How fair she seemed, how worthy any effort! If only I might hope that I, at last, should wholly win her approbation and make our union indissoluble. Her radiant smiles, and lofty, loving words, were hard to win, but then, when won—! Who ever looked and spoke and smiled as did Aspiro?

There was neither rest nor dalliance on our way. Unrest lit meteors in the heaven of my mistress's eyes, and I lost, at length, the delusion that I should ever satisfy all her imperious exactions. Then I hoped to make but some one thought or deed quite worthy of her favor, even to the sacrifice of my life.

I strove my utmost in the Art we loved. The strife consumed the dross of daily, petty hopes and fears, which make the happiness of common lives, and left my soul a crucible receptive for refinement only; and Aspiro tempted me to new endeavors by glimpses of the court which Nature holds, wearing Dalmatian mantle and spray-bright crown, in realms forbidden mortals.

'I thought, for my sake,' she would say, sadly,'you had already done something better than you have.'

If my soul sickened then, my courage did not falter, nor did her incentive beauty lose any of its charm.

I said: 'Give me a task, Aspiro, and I will please you yet.'

Then she pointed to me what I might do, and my work began.

In this work I reproduced my mistress's beauty and my love's significance. Having learned the language of nature, I translated from her hieroglyphic pages in characters of flame. With rash hands I stripped false seemings from material beauty, and limned the naked divinity of Idea. Shorn by degrees in my strife of youth and strength and passion, I wound them in my work—toiling like paltry larvae. And it was done—retouched and lingered over long, apotheosized by mighty effort. So I offered it to my Fate.

Never before, as at that moment, had Aspiro seemed so worthy to be won at any cost. I trembled as I laid my work before her—she so transcended Beauty. But still I hoped. I waited for her dawning smile and outstretched hand, ready to die of attained longing when these should be bestowed.

She, gleaming like ice, transfixed me coldly, and, slighting with her glance my work, asked: 'Can you do no more?'

I answered with weary hopelessness: 'No more.'

How cold her laugh was!

'And have I waited on you all these years for this?'

I echoed drearily: 'For this.'

'Well, blot it out, and try again, if you would please me,' said Aspiro.

With spent strength I cast myself at her feet.

'You see,' I said,'I have mixed these colors with my life-wine.'

'Why, then,' she asked, carelessly, 'with your insufficient strength, were you tempted to woo and follow me?'

So my life with its endeavors was a wreck. I thought of the good I had sacrificed, of the hopes that had failed. The Past and Future alike pierced my hands with crucificial nails, till, faint with the pain and the scorning, I lapsed into a long prostration, from which I came at last to the dawn-light of sad, once-forgotten eyes—to the odor of withered rosemary.

'True heart that I spurned,' I cried, 'can you forgive? I will return Aspiro scorn for scorn, and go humbly back, where it is perhaps not yet too late for happiness.'

With dreary reproaches came memory, disenthralled. I dreamed of my youth, its love, and its aim. I pictured a porch with its breeze-tossed vines, a rocking boat on a limpid lake, a narrow path through twilight-brooded woods, and each scene the shrine of a sweet face with brown, banded hair, and love-lit eyes.

And these pictures were the True. My heart cleaved the eternity of separation, beaconing my sad return to them, and I followed gladly, hope being not yet dead.

The summer porch was shady with fragrant vines—but I missed the face. I buoyed my heart, and said, 'Of course she would not have waited so long.'

I went to the woods, through the narrow paths where of old the birds twittered, and javelins of sunshine pierced—on, where we had gone together long ago, till I reached the dell where we pledged our love. Ah! I should find her here—

The sweet face where I should kindle smiles—the brown hair I could once more stroke—the lithe form that I longed to clasp—the true heart that should beat for me in a quiet home.

No. No waiting eyes—no true heart —no glad smile. But a cross and a grave and a name: 'CHRISTINE.'

* * * * *

Aspirants of the Age! Offspring of Aloēus I you have chosen a worship that admits not a divided heart. But your faith, like the Mystic's, shall also make your strength; and though Aspiro stoops not to your stature, yet she reigns, and she rewards. Be true. Be firm. Even if it be upon the wreck of some frail, temporal heart-hopes, you must reach higher, till, in the sheen of the approving smile, you read the world-lesson: Salvation through sacrifice. Through strife and suffering—excellence.



THE RED MAN'S PLEA.

ALMOST LITERALLY THE REPLY OF 'RED IRON' TO GOVERNOR RAMSEY.

The snow is on the ground, and still my people wait; They ask but their just dues, ere yet it be too late; For we are poor, our huts are cold, we starve, we die, While you are rich, your fires are warm, your harvests lie High heaped above the hunting grounds, our fathers' graves, We sold you long ago. Alas! our famished braves Have sold e'en their own graves! When dead, our bones shall stay To whiten on the ground, that our Great Father may More surely see where his Dacotah children died— His dusky children whom ye robbed, and then belied.



BUCKLE, DRAPER, AND A SCIENCE OF HISTORY

THIRD PAPER

In any classification of our intellectual domain which it is possible to make on the basis of Principles now known to the Scientific world at large, the most fundamental characteristic should be, the distinctive separation of those departments of thought in which Certainty is now attainable, from those in which only varying degrees of Probability exist, and the clear exhibition of that which is positive and demonstrable knowledge, in the strict sense of the term, as distinguished from that which is liable to be more or less fallible. Although the precise point at which, in some cases, the proofs of Probable Reasoning cease to be as convincing as those of Demonstration cannot be readily apprehended, yet the essential nature of the two methods of proof is radically and inherently different, and is marked by the most distinctive results. In the latter case, we have always accuracy, precision, and certainty, beyond the possibility of doubt; in the former, always the conviction that, how strong soever the array of evidence may seem to be, in favor of a particular inference, there still remains a possibility that the conclusion may be modified or vitiated by the subsequent advancement of knowledge.

The Generalizations which respectively affirm that all the angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles, or that the square of the hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides, rest upon an entirely different basis of proof from those upon which the Generalizations rest which respectively assert that water is composed of certain chemical constituents combined in certain proportions, or that the nerves are the instruments of sensation and of motion. The former are irresistible conclusions of the human mind, because, from the nature of the intellect, they cannot be conceived of as being otherwise. The Laws of Thought are such, that we are unable to think a triangle whose angles will not be equal to two right angles, or a right-angled one, the square of whose hypothenuse will not be equal to the squares of the other two sides. So long, therefore, as man is constituted as he now is—unless the human organization becomes radically changed, these geometrical Laws cannot be conceived as being otherwise than as they are. All men must apprehend them alike if they apprehend them at all. So long as man lives and thinks they remain unalterable verities, about which there can be no shadow of doubt, no possibility of error.

The doctrine that water is composed of certain definite chemical constituents in certain definite proportions, or the theory that the nerves are the instruments of sensation and of motion, rests upon no such foundation. Whenever water has been analyzed, it has yielded the same separate elements in the same proportions; and whenever these elements are put together in the same quantitative ratio they have produced water; so that the conviction is proximately established in the minds of all that water is invariably the product of these elements in certain proportions. But this proof does not establish the generalization as inevitably true, nor show that it is impossible for it to be otherwise. It is possible, in the nature of things, for us to conceive that the fluid which we call water may be produced from other constituents than oxygen or hydrogen, or that such a fluid may even now exist undiscovered, the product of elements altogether unknown.

So in regard to the nerves. Observation and experiment have established to the general satisfaction, that they are the instruments of sensation and motion; but we are not absolutely sure that this is the fact, nor can we know that a human being may not be born in whom no trace of nerves can be detected, and who will nevertheless experience sensation and exhibit motion. We may be as well satisfied, for all practical purposes, of the nature of water and of the office of the nerves as of the nature of a triangle; but the character of the evidence, on which the convincement is based, is essentially different; being, in the one case, incontrovertible and infallible; and, in the other, indecisive and possibly fallacious.

This repetition of that which has been substantially stated before, brings us to the final consideration of the distinctive nature of different departments of Thought, as indicated by the Methods of Proof which respectively prevail in them; and hence as embodying either exact and definite Knowledge, or only varying degrees of Probability. We have already seen that in at least one sphere of intellectual activity we are able to start from the most basic and fundamental conceptions, from axiomatic truths so patent and universal that they cannot even be conceived of as being otherwise than as they are, and to proceed from them, by equally irresistible Inferences, to conclusions which are, from the nature of the human mind, inevitable. It is in the Mathematics, in which the Deductive Method is rightly operative, that this kind of Proof—Demonstration in the strict sense of the term—prevails. The various branches of Mathematics have therefore been appropriately denominated the Exact Sciences, in contradistinction from those domains of Thought whose Laws or Principles are liable to be somewhat indefinite or uncertain; hence, called the Inexact Sciences.

Exact Science—in its largest sense, that which extends to all domains in which the proper Deductive Method has been or may hereafter be rightly employed—is therefore a system or series of truths relating to the whole Universe, or to some department of it, consecutively and necessarily resulting from, and dependent upon, each other, in a definite chain or series; and resting primarily upon some fundamental truth or truths so simple and self-evident, that, when clearly stated, all men must, by the natural constitution of the human mind, perceive them and recognize them as true. Demonstration is the pointing out of the definite links in the chain or series by which we go from fundamental truths, clearly perceived and irresistible, up to the particular truth in question.

Thus far in the history of Science, Mathematics, as a whole, has ranked as the only Exact Science; being the only department of intellectual activity, all of whose Laws or Principles are established on a basis of undeniable certainty. If, however, theories of Cosmogony and considerations of Cosmography be excluded from the field of Astronomy, this Science consists almost wholly of the application of the Laws of Mathematics to the movements of the celestial bodies. Restricting Astronomy proper to this domain, where, as a Science, it strictly belongs, and setting aside its merely descriptive and conjectural features, as hardly an integral part of the Science itself, we have another Exact Science in addition to Mathematics.

Of still another domain, that of Physics, Professor Silliman says, 'all its phenomena are dependent on a limited number of general laws ... which may be represented by numbers and algebraic symbols; and these condensed formulae enable us to conduct investigations with the certainty and precision of pure Mathematics.'

The various branches of Physics have not hitherto been ranked as Exact Sciences, because, as in Astronomy, unsubstantiated theories and doubtful generalizations, incapable of Mathematical Proof, have mingled with their Demonstrated Laws and Phenomena, as a component part of the Science itself. It has consequently exhibited an ambiguous or problematical aspect, incompatible with the rigorous requirements of Exact Science. Even in Professor Silliman's admirable work, formulae are given as Laws, which, however correct, have yet no foundation in axiomatic truth; while Inferences are drawn from them which are by no means capable of Demonstration. Strictly speaking, however, only those Laws which do rest upon a Demonstrable basis and the Phenomena derived from them come within the scope of the Science of Physics. So far as these prevail, this department of investigation is entitled to the Mathematical character accorded to it by Professor Silliman, and ranks as an Exact Science.

Astronomy and Physics, viewed in the light in which they are here presented, are rather special branches of Mathematics, than distinct Sciences. But as we often speak of Geometry as a separate Science, although it is in reality only a division of the Mathematical domain, and is so classed by Comte; so there is a sense in which both Astronomy and Physics, as herein defined, may be regarded as individual Sciences, and in that character they will be considered in this paper.

We have, then, three domains in which the true Deductive Method is active; in which we can start from universally recognized Truths and proceed, by irresistible Inferences, to ulterior Principles and Facts. In three Sciences, in Mathematics as commonly defined and understood, in Astronomy and Physics as herein circumscribed, we are able to establish starting points of thought with Mathematical certainty, and to deduce from them all the Phenomena of their respective realms.

Within the scope of these three Sciences, therefore, our information is clearly defined, positive, and indisputable. The conclusions to which we are led by their Principles can no more be gainsayed than human existence can be doubted. While time shall last, while mankind shall endure, while the human Mind is constructed on its present basis; while, in fine, there is a possibility for the exercise of Thought in any way conceivable to the existing Mentality of the universe, the Laws of Mathematics, of Astronomy, and of Physics can be apprehended in no way different from that in which they are now apprehended. There is no conceivable possibility that subsequent investigations will show them to be erroneous or defective. They stand upon a foundation of Proof as unalterable as the fiat of Fate or the decrees of the Almighty, which can neither be shaken nor destroyed.

It is between these three Mathematical Sciences, on the one side, and all other domains of intellectual investigation on the other, that a line of distinct demarcation must be drawn, in any Classification of our so-called Knowledge, in accordance with any method of classification known to the scientific world at large. Not that the Laws or Principles which lie at the base of all other departments of the universe are not as stable, as definite, and as infallible as those which inhere in the Sciences which have been specially indicated. But that, as yet, the endeavor to apprehend fundamental Principles, in other spheres than these, has been attended with only partial success; and hence, the ability to establish a Mathematical or Demonstrable basis for other regions of Thought is yet wanting, so far as is commonly known.

When, therefore, we emerge from the domains of Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics, we are leaving the field of positive assurance, of undeniable truth, and entering the realms where opinion, conjecture, and variable degrees of certainty prevail. The Facts of Observation may be, indeed, as plain here as elsewhere and as firmly established. But the conclusions drawn from them, the Scientific Principles assumed to be established, may be erroneous or defective, and the power of prevision, the great test of Scientific accuracy, is proportionally wanting. Derived, as we have hitherto seen these conclusions to be, from Phenomena, on the supposition that a given range of Observation will secure all the essential Principles which appertain to the whole of the Phenomena included in the range, we can never be entirely sure that our basis of Facts is sufficient for our purpose, and hence the possibility of error always exists.

It is not to be understood, therefore, that first or observational Facts are not rightly to be known in other departments of investigation than Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics; but that Laws, Principles, or Generalizations which relate Facts and serve as instruments for penetrating into the deeper arcana of Nature, cannot be precisely, accurately, and certainly known, in their relations and belongings, until we are able to establish their connection with the lowest, most fundamental, and self-evident truths, and in this manner become competent to advance step by step from undeniable first truths to those equally undeniable. In Mathematics, in Astronomy, and in Physics, we are able to do this. We know the Laws or Principles of these Sciences, therefore, so far as we have developed the Sciences themselves. We know the relations of the various Laws within the range of each Science, and the relations of the different Sciences with each other. We can advance, within their boundaries, from the simplest and most positive verities, such as the whole is equal to all its parts—a self-evident truth, which it is impossible to conceive as being otherwise than as here stated—up to the most intricate ulterior Facts of the universe, by Inferences which are as irresistible to the mind as the axioms with which we started. In no other domains of Thought can this be done by any methods now in vogue. In no other realms, therefore, are complete precision and infallibility attainable. It is this which constitutes the peculiar character of these three Sciences, and distinguishes them radically from all others.

The whole body of our authoritative and irrevocably determinate intellectual acquisitions lies, therefore, at the present time, so far as is commonly known, within the range of Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics. These are in strictness the only Sciences which we possess; and the only domains in which knowledge, in the proper sense of the term, is attainable. In passing their boundaries, we leave the regions of positive certitude, and come into the domain where Conjecture, varying from the strongest presumption to mere plausibility, is the highest proof. Laws or Principles are yet undiscovered there, and in their place we find Generalizations—Suppositive or Proximate Laws—which are in process of proof, or already established by such evidence as the Inductive Method can array, and which carry the conviction of their correctness with varying degrees of force, to larger or smaller classes of investigators.

These three branches of knowledge are unquestionably entitled to the designation of Positive Sciences; and to no others can it with justice be accorded. To apply the name of Science to domains in which real knowledge is not attainable, is, in some sense, an abuse of terms. To denominate Positive Sciences, domains which are not strictly Scientific, and in which positive certainty, in reference to Principles and ulterior Facts, cannot be attained, is still more incongruous. Comte's arrangement of the schedule of the Positive Sciences, in which domains where Demonstrable knowledge prevails are placed upon a common basis with those in which it does not, was probably owing to the want of a clear perception on his part of the essential difference of the nature of proof by the true Deductive Method and of proof by the Inductive Method, of the actual Certainty of the one and the merely proximate Certainty of the other.

If such were the case, his want of discrimination was rather due to an overestimate of Inductive proof than to an undervaluation of Mathematical Demonstration. That Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics were more perfect Sciences than the others in point of precision, he distinctly affirms, pointing out that 'the relative perfection of the different Sciences consists in the degree of precision of Knowledge,' that this degree of precision is in accordance with the extent to which Mathematical analysis can be applied to the given domain, and that to the above-mentioned Sciences only is its application possible. Notwithstanding this apprehension of the different degrees of precision or exactitude attainable in the various Scientific realms, he does not seem to have sufficiently understood that there was also a vast difference in the nature of the evidence which went to prove the truth of the supposed Principles and ulterior Facts of the various departments of Thought, and hence variable degrees of Certainty in regard to the positive bases of the Principles themselves. He thus falls into the same error which it was one of the main purposes of his Scientific labors to correct—commingling problematical theories with Demonstrable Truths, as equally entitled to belief—and ranks Sociology, including La Morale, afterward called a distinct Science, with Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics, as domains in which our reasonings, in the present state of Knowledge, can be equally reliable.

It is barely possible that the purpose and design of Comte's Classification had, unconsciously, much to do with its really unscientific and incongruous character. The aim which he had in view was to construct a Sociology or Science of Society which should be a guide in the establishment of a new Government, a new Political Economy, a new Religion, a new Social Life, a new Order of Things, in fine, to take the place of the decrepit institutions, governmental, ecclesiastical, and social, which he thought were fast approaching their period of dissolution. The Generalization which had exhibited to him, that the Laws and Phenomena of the various departments of investigation were dependent on each other in a graduated scale, and had thus enabled him to establish the Hierarchy of the Sciences, showed him that Sociology, including as it does the Principles and Phenomena of the other domains which he regards as Positive Sciences, must be based upon them.

Hence it became necessary to fix the Scientific character of all these branches of intelligence, in order to create a Scientific basis for his Sociology. It was, however, impossible for him to claim that a Demonstrable or Infallible method of Proof was applicable to Chemistry and Biology; while, on the other hand, to exhibit such a method as introducing a certainty into Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics which did not appertain to the other so-called Positive Sciences, would have indicated too plainly the unspanned gulf which yawned between the indubitable Demonstrations of the Exact Sciences and the merely probable Generalizations of the others, and have exposed the fallible character of his Sociological theories.

A Classification was rendered indispensable, therefore, which should display uniformity in its character, and a sufficiently rigorous mode of Scientific proof. To fulfil this end, the Inexact Sciences were accorded a position of certainty in reference to their Principles which does not in reality belong to them; while the Exact or Infallible Sciences were degraded from their peculiarly high state, and brought to the new level of the former on the middle ground of the Positive Philosophy. A quasi-Scientific basis was thus erected for the Sociological movements of the French Reformer.

Had he been as Metaphysically analytical, profound, and discriminating in his intellectual development, as he was vigorous, expansive, and broadly generalising, he would have discerned the insufficiency of the bases of the structure which he was building. Had he understood the Scientific problem of the age, he would have known that until the task which he believed too great for accomplishment was adequately performed, until all the phenomena of the respective Sciences were brought within the scope of a larger Science and included under a Universal Law, there could be no 'clearness, precision, and consistency' throughout all our domains of Thought, and hence no true Sociology. Had he rightly apprehended the nature of 'The Grand Man,' as he aptly denominates Humanity, he would not have failed to perceive that the attempt to measure the capacities and requirements of Society by the capacities and requirements of any individual or individuals, how catholic soever they may be, is but the repetition of the Procrustean principle on a broader basis, and that a reconstructive movement established on such a foundation could not meet the wants of this individualized epoch. That he should not have perceived that the capital and necessary precursor of any true Science of Society must be a Universal Science, a Science of Universal Laws underlying and unifying Physics and Metaphysics, is not strange, when we consider his peculiar mental characteristics. That he should ever have anticipated any permanent acceptance of his Sociological Theories, or regarded his Social Institutions as anything more than transitional forms, could only have been due to a lack of the highest Scientific powers, and to an earnest impatience at beholding Humanity crawling along the path of Progress by the aid of obsolete instrumentalities.

The work which Auguste Comte accomplished was immense. Its value can hardly be overestimated. Every modern Scientist and Thinker is largely indebted to him for that which is indispensable to high intellectual development and progress in thought. For the immense steps in Scientific advancement which he took; for his love of his Race; for his really religious spirit, exhibited in his utter devotion to that which he deemed the highest right; the love and sympathy of every student of Science and every devotee of truth is, and will be, forever his. That he failed in achieving a permanent Scientific basis of a sufficiently universal and unquestionable character—a real Universology, which should exhibit the essential verity of the religious intuitions of the past, and should establish their inherent and harmonious connection with the unfolding intellectual discoveries of the present—is true. But it should not be forgotten that every attempt, made in the right direction, which comes short of the final result, is but a stepping stone for the next effort, and, viewed as a single round in the great ladder of human ascension, a success—an element without which the final achievement would have been impossible. Without Comte there would have been no Buckle, whose work furnishes another of these steps. Every page of the 'History of Civilization' exhibits the indebtedness of the English Historian to the French Encyclopaedist of the Sciences; while the 'Intellectual Development of Europe' bears evidence of a 'Positivist' inspiration to which Professor Draper might have more completely yielded with decided benefit. For the lift which the author of the Positive Philosophy and the founder of the Positive Religion has given the world, let us be deeply grateful; although we must reject, as a finality, a System of Science which cannot Demonstrate the correctness of its Principles and Phenomena, or a System of Religion which emasculates mankind of its diviner and more spiritual aspirations, and dwarfs him to the dimensions of a refined Materialism.

In classifying our existing Knowledge, then, on our present basis of Scientific acquisition, we must draw a distinct line between Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics, on the one side, and all remaining departments of Thought, on the other, and set these three Sciences apart as the Exact or Infallible ones, occupying a rank superior to the others, by virtue of the Certainty and Exactitude with which we are able, through the operation of the true Deductive Method, to ascertain their Principles and Phenomena. We shall then be enabled—by the aid of Comte's principle that the domains of investigation take rank in proportion to the complexity of their Phenomena—to ascertain, after a very brief examination, the place which History holds in the Scale, and how much claim it can lay to a Scientific character.

Comte closes the Hierarchy of the Positive Sciences by adding to the three which we have denominated Exact Sciences, Chemistry, Biology, Sociology, and La Morale, in the order in which they are named, as indicated by the nature of the Phenomena with which they are concerned. If we adopt this arrangement, and annex to each of these general Sciences, as they are called in the language of Positivism, its derived or dependent branches, we shall have the following order: Chemistry; Geology; Biology, including Botany, Human and Comparative Anatomy, and Physiology; Zoology; Sociology; and La Morale. Although this enlarged scale is defective, many important departments, such as Ethnology, Philology, etc., being left out, it is sufficiently correct to show the complex nature of the Phenomena with which History must concern itself.

History—in its largest aspect, that in which we are now considering it—is the record of the progress of the Race in all its various modes of development. In it is therefore involved the examination and consideration of all the agencies, Material or Spiritual, which have operated on Mankind through past ages. Mathematical questions concerning Number, Form, and Force; Astronomical problems on the relation of our Earth to other Celestial bodies, and the effect thereof on Climate, Soil, and Modes of Life; Physical inquiries into the influence of Heat, Electricity, etc., on individuals and nations; Chemical investigations into the nature of different kinds of Food, and their relations to the animal economy, and hence to the career of Peoples; Geological researches to discover the origin of the human Race, and its position in the Animal Kingdom; questions of Physiology, of Social Life, of Ethnology, of Metaphysics, of Religion; every problem, in fine, which the world has been called to consider, forms a part of the record of its progress and comes within the scope of History. As the Descriptology, or verbal daguerreotyping of the Continuity of Society, and hence of the Dynamical aspect of Concrete Sociology, History stands, then, in a sense, at the head of the scale, omitting Theology, the true apex of the pyramid of Sciences, which pyramid Comte has decapitated of this very apex.

The problems which History is called to solve are therefore exceedingly intricate and perplexing. The Generalizations of Chemistry, conducted, as they must be, on our present basis of Knowledge, by the Inductive Method, are involved in a degree of uncertainty, not only on account of the complexity of their Phenomena, but also by reason of the absence of any method of ascertaining when all the elements of a right Generalization are obtained. In Geology, including Mineralogy, the complexity increases, and the possibility of precision and certainty decreases in the same ratio. This augmentation of complexity in the Phenomena and proportionate diminution of exactitude and certainty in respect to the Generalizations derived from them, continues at every successive degree of the scale; so that when we arrive at History, all hope of even proximate precision, and all expectation of anything like positive Knowledge, except in the broadest outline and generalization, by any application of the Inductive Method, has completely vanished.

The hopelessness of a Science of History prior to the discovery of a Unitary Law and the introduction of the Deductive Method into all domains of investigation, now becomes plainly apparent. Until the occurrence of that event we shall look in vain for a true Science of History. With the advent of such a discovery, it will be possible to carry the precision and infallibility of Mathematical Demonstration into all departments of Thought, and to subject the Phenomena of History to well-defined and indubitable Laws.

We must guard, however, against entertaining the supposition that a Unitary Science will bring all the Phenomena of the universe within the compass of Demonstrable apprehension. The province of Science is not infinite, but circumscribed. We are limited in the application of Mathematical Laws, even within the sphere of Pure Mathematics; general equations of the fifth degree having until recently resisted all attempts to solve them; and fields yet remain into which we cannot advance. The power of the human mind to analyze Phenomena ceases at some point, and there our ability to apply Scientific Principles, however indubitable in themselves, ends. It is the office of Exact Science to furnish us with a knowledge of the inherent Laws which everywhere pervade the Universe and govern continuously and unalterably its activities. To the extent to which it is possible to trace the constituent elements of Thought or Things we can have the guidance of these Laws or Principles. But when we reach that point in any department of investigation where the complexity of the Phenomena renders it impossible for the human intellect to successfully analyze it and discover its separate parts, the sphere of accurate Scientific Knowledge is transcended. The Intuition—the faculty which apprehends what we may call the spirit of Concrete things, which goes to conclusions by a rapid process that overleaps intermediate steps, which is our guide in the numerous decisions that we are called to make in our every-day life, and which perceives, in a somewhat vague and indefinite manner—becomes our only guide in this Realm of the Inexact.

The advent of a Unitary Science and the inauguration of a true Deductive Method in all domains of Thought, will, indeed, completely revolutionize our Scientific bases, and render precision and infallibility possible in domains where now only conjecture and probability exist. It will enable us to establish on a firm and secure foundation the Laws or Principles of every department of the Universe of Matter and of Mind, and to penetrate the Phenomena of all realms to an extent now scarcely imagined. It will furnish us the 'Criterion of Truth' so long sought after—a ground of intellectual agreement in all the concerns of life, so far as this is essential, similar to that which we now have in Mathematics, where difference of opinion is impossible because proof is of a nature to be alike convincing to all.

But, as in Mathematics a limit is reached, beyond which the finite character of our intelligence does not permit us to apply the Laws which we are well assured still prevail, so there is an outlying circle of practical activity which no Science can compass. The various tints of the autumn forest are probably the results of Mathematical arrangements of particles; but to how great an extent we shall be able to discover what precise arrangement produces a given shade of color, is doubtful. Some delicate varieties, at least, will always be beyond our definite apprehension. Whether we shall dine at one hour or another, whether we will wear gray or black, and innumerable other questions of specialty, do not come within the range of Scientific solution, and never can. So that when every domain of human concern is solidly established on a basis of Exact Science, there will still remain a field of indefinite extent, in which the Intuitive application of eternal Principles will furnish an unlimited activity for the Practical, AEsthetic, Imaginative, Idealistic, Artistic, and Religious faculties of Mankind.

The task which Mr. Buckle set himself to accomplish was, in a marked sense, original and peculiar. Although several systematic attempts had been made in Europe, prior to his time, to investigate the history of man according to those exhaustive methods which in other branches of Knowledge have proved successful, and by which alone empirical observations can be raised to scientific truths, the imperfect state of the Physical Sciences necessarily rendered the execution of such an undertaking extremely defective. It was not, indeed, until the vast mass of Facts which make up the body of the various Sciences had been included within appropriate formulae, and until the elaborate Classification of Auguste Comte had separated that which was properly Knowledge from that which was not, with sufficient exactitude to answer the purposes of broad Generalization, and had established the relations of the different domains of intelligence, that such a work as the 'History of Civilization' was possible.

Previous Historians, with these few exceptions, had contented themselves with the narration of the Facts of national progress, the merely superficial exhibition of the external method of a people's life, and had almost wholly neglected or greatly subordinated the Philosophical or Scientific aspect of the subject, namely, the causes of the given development. Separate domains of History had, indeed, been examined with considerable ability; but hardly any attempt had been made to combine the various parts into a consistent whole, and ascertain in what way they were connected with each other. Still less had there been any notable effort to apply the whole body of our existing knowledge to the elucidation of the problem of human progress. While the necessity of generalization in all the other great realms of investigation had been freely conceded, and strenuous exertions had been made to rise from particular Facts to the discovery of the Laws by which those Facts are governed, Historians continued to pursue the stereotyped course of merely relating events, interspersed with such reflections as seemed interesting or instructive.

Up to the period when Mr. Buckle essayed his 'History of Civilization,' few, if any, of the well-known modern Historians had conceived that an acquaintance with all the departments of human intelligence was a necessary accomplishment in a writer on the past career of the world, and no one of them had undertaken to write history from that basis. 'Hence,' says the author whom we are considering, and who makes, in the first pages of his book, substantially the same statements concerning the condition of Historical literature which are made here—'hence the singular spectacle of one historian being ignorant of political economy; another knowing nothing of law; another, nothing of ecclesiastical affairs, and changes of opinion; another neglecting the philosophy of statistics, and another physical science; although these topics are the most essential of all, inasmuch as they comprise the principal circumstances by which the temper and character of mankind have been affected, and in which they are displayed. These important pursuits being, however, cultivated, some by one man, and some by another, have been isolated rather than united: the aid which might be derived from analogy and from mutual illustration has been lost; and no disposition has been shown to concentrate them upon history, of which they are, properly speaking, the necessary components.'

The work which Mr. Buckle contemplated was designed to supply this desideratum in respect to History. It was an endeavor to discover 'the Principles which govern the character and destiny of nations,' an effort 'to bring up this great department of inquiry to a level with other departments,' 'to accomplish for the history of man something equivalent, or at all events analogous to, what has been effected by other inquirers for the different branches of Natural Science,' and 'to elevate the study of history from its present crude and informal state,' and place 'it in its proper rank, as the head and chief of all the Sciences.'

At the outset of his undertaking, we have ample evidence that the capacious-minded Englishman had fixed upon no less a labor than 'to solve the great problem of affairs; to detect those hidden circumstances which determine the march and destiny of nations; and to find, in the events of the past, a key to the proceedings of the future, which is nothing less than to unite into a single science all the laws of the moral and physical world.' He was thus bent, doubtless with only a vague apprehension of the nature of the problem, on the discovery of that Unitary Law, whose apprehension is so anxiously awaited, which is to cement the various branches of our Knowledge into a Universal Science, and furnish an Exact basis for all our thinking.

The Method which Mr. Buckle employed in the prosecution of his magnificent design was the Inductive. He made 'a collection of historical and scientific facts,' drew from them such conclusions as he thought they suggested and authorized; and then applied the Generalizations thus obtained to the elucidation of the career of various countries. When we consider the nature of the work undertaken and the means by which it was to be achieved, we can hardly deny, that this attempt to create a Science of History was, in a distinguishing sense, the most gigantic intellectual effort which the world has ever been called to witness. The domain of investigation was almost new. The point of Observation entirely so. Vast masses of Facts encumbered it, aggregated in orderless heaps—orderless, at least, so far as his uses were subserved. Comte had, indeed, brought the different departments of inquiry into proximately definite relations in obedience to an abstract and Static Law; but while this labor was, in other respects, an essential preliminary to Mr. Buckle's undertaking, it was of little immediate value in an attempt to secure the direct solution of the most intricate and complex questions of Concrete dynamical Sociology, involving the unstable and shifting contingencies of individual activity. The whole of the intellectual accumulations of the centuries may be said to have been piled about the English Thinker, and he was to discover in and derive from them the unerring Law or Laws which should serve to explain, with at least something approaching precision and clearness, the kaleidoscopic phases of human existence.

Only one generally known effort in the realm of Thought bears any comparison to this, examined in reference to the vigor, breadth, and variety of the mental faculties which it called into requisition. Viewed in connection with the work of the founder of the Positive School, we may say, without any disparagement to the comprehensive abilities of the French Philosopher, that the task undertaken by the English Historian required a tenacity of intellectual grasp, a steadiness of mental vision, a scope of generalizing power, an all-embracing scholarship, a marvellous accumulation of Facts, and a wonderful readiness to handle them, which even the prodigious labors of the Positive Philosophy did not demand. Comte had, indeed, like Buckle, to arrange the Facts of the universe into order. But in his case they were only to be grouped under appropriate headings, and, as it were, quietly labeled.

With the author of 'Civilization in England' it was otherwise. In the actual careers of men and of nations, Facts do not stand related to each other and to human actions in the distinct and distinguishable way in which they appear when correlated, as by Comte, in accordance with general Laws. The domain of the concrete, or of practical life, has always a variable element which does not obtain in the sphere of generalizing Principles, and which immensely complicates the investigation of the problems of real existence. Comte purposely excluded the realm of the concrete from his studies, and therefore simplified, to a great extent, his field of labor. Yet even in his attempt to bring order into this curtailed department of inquiry, he professes, not merely his own inability to accomplish, but his conviction of the inherent impossibility of the accomplishment of that, for the abstract only, which Buckle really undertook for the concrete; namely, the reduction of the Phenomena of the Universe to a single Law; or, what is synonymous, the integration of all the laws of the moral and physical world into a single Science.

The character of his undertaking compelled Mr. Buckle, on the contrary, to stretch his mental antennae into every department of mundane activity, to hold the Facts there discovered, so far as he might, collectively within his grasp, and to draw them by an irresistible strain into gradually decreasing circles of generalization, until they were brought to a Central Law, which should contain within itself the many-sided explanation of the intricate ramifications of individual and national careers. The difference in the work essayed by the two distinguished Thinkers whose labors we are considering, is somewhat analogous to that which exists between the profession of the apothecary and that of the physician. The former must know the range of Materia Medica, and the contents of the Pharmacopaeia, so far as is necessary to arrange the various medicines in order, and deliver them when called for. The latter must hold the different remedies in his knowledge, not as classified upon the pharmaceutist's shelves, but as related to the various forms of constantly changing vital Phenomena, in the midst of which he is to detect their applicability to different forms of disease. Still more analogous is Comte to the student of Natural History, whose business it is, preeminently, to distribute and classify the Animal Kingdom, in accordance with Generalizations which relate mainly to the form or type of organization; while Buckle resembles the student of a higher rank, who endeavors, in the midst of the play of passion and the actual exhibitions of life itself, to read the nature of the mental and moral development which exists beneath them and controls their workings.

It is evident that, up to a period subsequent to the publication of his first volume, the writer of the 'History of Civilization' entertained the fullest confidence in the ability of the Inductive Method to cope with the ultimate problems of the Universe, and had high expectations of being able, through its instrumentality, to reduce the whole body of our Knowledge to a systematic whole, and to establish a Science of Sciences which should be a Criterion of Truth, and the crowning intellectual achievement of the ages. Whether Mr. Buckle fully comprehended the real nature of the Science toward which he was aiming; whether he entirely appreciated the radical and important change which its discovery would necessarily introduce into our Methods of Investigation;—whether he saw that it would be the inauguration of a true Deductive Mode of reasoning, which would enable us to advance with incredible rapidity and certainty into the arcana of those departments which he was then obliged to explore with the most tedious research, the most plodding patience, and the most destructive intellectual tension, in order to accumulate a limited array of Facts, is somewhat doubtful.

The significant sentence which occurs in the second volume of his work, closely following the announcement of his disappointment at being unable to achieve all that he had expected and promised, and which states that 'in a complete scheme of our knowledge, and when all our resources are fully developed and marshalled into order, as they must eventually be, the two methods [the Inductive and the Deductive] will be, not hostile, but supplementary, and will be combined into a single system,' seems to indicate that at some period prior to the publication of the second volume, and subsequent to the issue of the first, the insufficient nature of the Inductive Method as a Scientific guide broke upon him, and some conception of the nature of a Mode of Reasoning which should combine the two Processes in just relations, began to dawn into his mind. That he obtained anything more than a faint glimpse of the true Method, is not likely. Had he done so, he would certainly have made some statement of the great results which would follow its inauguration, even if he could have refrained from bestowing one of his glowing and enraptured paragraphs upon the fairest and most entrancing vision of future achievement which the devotee of intellectual investigation will ever witness.

It is probable, that in carrying on his investigations after the publication of the first volume of his work, finding it impossible to handle the accumulations of Facts necessary to his purpose, and discovering the inexactitude and insufficiency of his Generalizations in the ratio that the bounds of his field of inquiry enlarged, he was led to perceive the essential weakness and inadequacy of the Inductive Method, and the probable certainty that, at some future period, the progress of our Knowledge would lead to the establishment of positive bases for all departments of investigation, and thus furnish an opportunity for the harmonious and reciprocal activity of the two hitherto antagonistic Methods. That he had any definite idea of the precise nature of the bases on which this union would take place, that he perceived the exact character of the Science of Universology which it would create, or contemplated the subordination of the Inductive Process to the Deductive, there is no indication.

But whatever may have been Mr. Buckle's understanding or expectation in reference to the future, it is certain that between the publication of the first and second volumes of his History, the hope which he had formed and announced of being able to create a Science of History had vanished, and his efforts were confined to a less extensive programme. The pages in which this change of purpose is made known display, in touching outlines, tinged with a noble sadness, that the soul of the great Englishman was, in all the attributes of magnanimity, at least, a fitting mate for his intellect.

A storm of obloquy had assailed him at the outset of his labor. Beginning with the time when the first instalment of 'Civilization in England' was given to the public, passion, prejudice, and pride had strained their powers to vilify his character and heap abuse upon his name. The Press, the Pulpit, and the Lyceum, with rare and brave exceptions, met the formidable array of Facts with which the work bristled, by sciolistic criticisms, bigoted denunciations, or timid, faint praise. Conservatives in Politics and Religion exhibited him as a dangerous innovator, a social iconoclast, the would-be destroyer of all that was sacred in Institutions and in Religion. Theologians branded him as immoral and atheistic, and poured upon him a torrent of vituperation and hatred.

The only public reply which the English writer condescended to make, is contained in the closing pages of the fourth chapter of the last volume which he published. Every line of this answer, which is transcribed below, breathes the spirit of Him who, when he was reviled, reviled not again—the spirit of forbearance, of generous forgiveness, of magnanimity, of unruffled dignity. Buckle had learned, indeed, from his own investigations, that he who would elevate mankind must expect, not only its indifference to his labors, but its positive abuse. He knew, that the individual who, like Jesus, attempts to promulgate new truth, either moral or intellectual, must expect to array against himself the greatest portion of the human family, incrusted in their prejudices, their ignorance, their interests, or their feelings, and must be content with the appreciation and sympathy of the few who are wise enough to understand him, truthful enough to accept his doctrine, however unwholesome to their tastes, and brave enough to avow it. Perhaps he had also learned the fact, that, in the present state of humanity's development, few, very few, even of the best of mankind, love truth, chiefly because it is truth, and are hence eager to know their own shortcomings; but that those truths only are, for the most part, capable of being acceptably presented to individuals, which it is more satisfactory to their personal feelings, more comfortable to their own inherent peculiarities of disposition, to conform to than to reject. Be this as it may, the reply which he makes to the outrages showered upon him is evidently the language of a man whose thoughts are far removed from the arena of petty spite or private resentment, the expression of one who knew the grandeur and usefulness of his labors, who expected, in their prosecution, to be misunderstood and calumniated, and who, yet, was incapable of other than the most generous impulses of a noble philanthropy toward his maligners and traducers.

In the announcement of his inability to fulfil the great promises made in the former volume, we find, likewise, the indications of a nature full of lofty grandeur. He who has known the scholar's hopes, the student's struggles, and the author's ambition, may form some faint conception of what must have been the feelings of the great Historian when the conviction came to him, first faintly foreshadowed and then deepening to a reality, that the prize for which he had contended—and such a prize! which had seemed, too, at times, almost within his grasp—was destined forever to elude him. Frankly to acknowledge failure in such a struggle, was in itself great; to acknowledge it when the cries of his assailants were still ringing in his ears, and when it might have been measurably concealed, was still greater; to acknowledge it in words which betray no trace of disappointed personal ambition, but only a regret that the final avenue to truth should not have been opened, was heroic even to sublimity. The pages of Buckle's 'History of Civilization' which record the answer to his traducers and the acknowledgment of his disappointment in relation to what he should be able to achieve, will stand in the annals of literary history as a memorable instance in which is significantly exhibited one factor of that highest religious spirit so much needed in our day—devotion to the intellectual discovery of all truth for truth's sake.

The following is the passage in question:

'In the moral world, as in the physical world, nothing is anomalous; nothing is unnatural; nothing is strange. All is order, symmetry, and law. There are opposites, but there are no contradictions. In the character of a nation, inconsistency is impossible. Such, however, is still the backward condition of the human mind, and with so evil and jaundiced an eye do we approach the greatest problems, that not only common writers, but even men from whom better things might be hoped, are on this point involved in constant confusion. Perplexing themselves and their readers by speaking of inconsistency, as if it were a quality belonging to the subject which they investigate, instead of being, as it really is, a measure of their own ignorance. It is the business of the historian to remove this ignorance by showing that the movements of nations are perfectly regular, and that, like all other movements, they are solely determined by their antecedents. If he cannot do this, he is no historian. He may be an annalist, or a biographer, or a chronicler, but higher than that he cannot rise, unless he is imbued with that spirit of science which teaches, as an article of faith, the doctrine of uniform sequence; in other words, the doctrine that certain events having already happened, certain other events corresponding to them will also happen. To seize this idea with firmness, and to apply it on all occasions, without listening to any exceptions, is extremely difficult, but it must be done by whoever wishes to elevate the study of history from its present crude and informal state, and do what he may toward placing it in its proper rank, as the head and chief of all the sciences. Even then, he cannot perform his task unless his materials are ample, and derived from sources of unquestioned credibility. But if his facts are sufficiently numerous; if they are very diversified; if they have been collected from such various quarters that they can check and confront each other, so as to do away with all suspicion of their testimony being garbled; and if he who uses them possesses that faculty of generalization, without which nothing great can be achieved, he will hardly fail in bringing some part of his labors to a prosperous issue, provided he devotes all his strength to that one enterprise, postponing to it every other object of ambition, and sacrificing to it many interests which men hold dear. Some of the most pleasurable incentives to action, he must disregard. Not for him are those rewards which in other pursuits the same energy would have earned; not for him, the sweets of popular applause; not for him, the luxury of power; not for him, a share in the councils of his country; not for him a conspicuous and honored place before the public eye. Albeit, conscious of what he could do, he may not compete in the great contest; he cannot hope to win the prize; he cannot even enjoy the excitement of the struggle. To him the arena is closed. His recompense lies within himself, and he must learn to care little for the sympathy of his fellow creatures, or for such honors as they are able to bestow. So far from looking for these things, he should rather be prepared for that obloquy which always awaits those, who, by opening up new veins of thought, disturb the prejudices of their contemporaries. While ignorance, and worse than ignorance, is imputed to him, while his motives are misrepresented and his integrity impeached, while he is accused of denying the value of moral principles, and of attacking the foundation of all religion, as if he were some public enemy, who made it his business to corrupt society, and whose delight it was to see what evil he could do; while these charges are brought forward, and repeated from mouth to mouth, he must be capable of pursuing in silence the even tenor of his way, without swerving, without pausing, and without stepping from his path to notice the angry outcries which he cannot but hear, and which he is more than human if he does not long to rebuke. These are the qualities, and these the high resolves, indispensable to him who, on the most important of all subjects, believing that the old road is worn out and useless, seeks to strike out a new one for himself, and, in the effort, not only perhaps exhausts his strength, but is sure to incur the enmity of those who are bent on maintaining the ancient scheme unimpaired. To solve the great problem of affairs; to detect those hidden circumstances which determine the march and destiny of nations; and to find, in the events of the past, a key to the proceedings of the future, is nothing less than to unite into a single science all the laws of the moral and physical world. Whoever does this, will build up afresh the fabric of our knowledge, rearrange its various parts, and harmonize its apparent discrepancies. Perchance, the human mind is hardly ready for so vast an enterprise. At all events, he who undertakes it will meet with little sympathy, and will find few to help him. And let him toil as he may, the sun and noontide of his life shall pass by, the evening of his days shall overtake him, and he himself have to quit the scene, leaving that unfinished which he had vainly hoped to complete. He may lay the foundation; it will be for his successors to raise the edifice. Their hands will give the last touch; they will reap the glory; their names will be remembered when his is forgotten.

'It is, indeed, too true, that such a work requires, not only several minds, but also the successive experience of several generations. Once, I own, I thought otherwise. Once, when I first caught sight of the whole field of knowledge, and seemed, however dimly, to discern its various parts, and the relation they bore to each other, I was so entranced with its surpassing beauty, that the judgment was beguiled, and I deemed myself able, not only to cover the surface, but also to master the details. Little did I know how the horizon enlarges as well as recedes, and how vainly we grasp at the fleeting forms, which melt away and elude us in the distance. Of all that I had hoped to do, I now find but too surely how small a part I shall accomplish. In those early aspirations, there was much that was fanciful; perhaps there was much that was foolish. Perhaps, too, they contained a moral defect, and savored of an arrogance which belongs to a strength that refuses to recognize its own weakness. Still, even now that they are defeated and brought to nought, I cannot repent having indulged in them, but, on the contrary, I would willingly recall them if I could. For, such hopes belong to that joyous and sanguine period of life, when alone we are really happy; when the emotions are more active than the judgment; when experience has not yet hardened our nature; when the affections are not yet blighted and nipped to the core; and when the bitterness of disappointment not having yet been felt, difficulties are unheeded, obstacles are unseen, ambition is a pleasure instead of a pang, and the blood coursing swiftly through the veins, the pulse beats high, while the heart throbs at the prospect of the future. Those are glorious days; but they go from us, and nothing can compensate their absence. To me, they now seem more like the visions of a disordered fancy than the sober realities of things that were, and are not. It is painful to make this confession; but I owe it to the reader, because I would not have him to suppose that either in this or in the future volumes of my History I shall be able to redeem my pledge, and to perform all that I promised. Something I hope to achieve which will interest the thinkers of this age; and, something, perhaps, on which posterity may build. It will, however, only be a fragment of my original design.'

In estimating the extent to which Mr. Buckle succeeded in consummating the labor which he undertook, we are not, therefore, to measure his results by the standard of the first, but by that of the second volume. It is not, then, the Science of History which he is striving to write; but only something 'which will interest the thinkers of this age, and something, perhaps, on which posterity may build.' His task, as thus abridged, was confined to the endeavor to establish the 'four leading propositions, which, according to my [his] view, are to be deemed the basis of the history of civilization;' that is, the basis of a Science of History. These propositions, given in a previous article, may be here repeated:

'1st. That the progress of mankind depends on the success with which the laws of phenomena are investigated, and on the extent to which a knowledge of those laws is diffused. 2d. That before such investigation can begin, a spirit of scepticism must arise, which, at first aiding the investigation, is afterward aided by it. 3d. That the discoveries thus made, increase the influence of intellectual truths, and diminish, relatively, not absolutely, the influence of moral truths; moral truths being more stationary than intellectual truths, and receiving fewer additions. 4th. That the great enemy of this movement, and therefore the great enemy of civilization, is the protective spirit; by which I mean the notion that society cannot prosper unless the affairs of life are watched over and protected at nearly every turn by the state and the church; the state teaching men what to do, and the church teaching them what they are to believe.'

In the first paper of this series, which was devoted to the examination of the third proposition as announced by Mr. Buckle and substantially affirmed by Professor Draper, together with the consideration of the fundamental Law of Human Progress, the error into which both of these distinguished writers had fallen in regard to the relative influence of moral and intellectual truths, was pointed out; as also the misconception under which they rested concerning the Law of Human Development. This misconception, it was then shown, arose from an incorrect understanding of the essential character of the Law itself, and could be traced, basically, to the same source whence sprang their mistake in reference to the comparative power of moral and mental forces. It is to a misapprehension, analogous to that which brought him into error concerning these two important points, that the radical defect of Mr. Buckle's first and fourth propositions is to be traced, as will be hereafter exhibited.

The complete and exhaustive consideration of the second proposition demands a range of Metaphysical examination which cannot be entered upon at this time. For our present purposes it may be dismissed with the following remarks:

That before men begin the investigation of any subject deliberately, reflectively, and with a fixed and intelligent purpose of ascertaining the truth concerning it, there must arise some feeling of doubt in their minds in relation to the given subject or to some details of it, is certainly true, and needed no array of evidence to prove it; but that prior to such conscious and intentional effort at exploration, there exists an unconscious or automatic action in the mind, an instinctual and passive kind of thinking, a vague floating of ideas into the mental faculties, rather than an apprehension of them by an active and deliberate tension of the intellect, and that it is through this kind of intuitive investigation that the 'spirit of scepticism' primarily arises, is equally true; though not, perhaps, at the first blush, so apparent. In this sense, the statement of Mr. Buckle is simply one half of a truism, the other half of which, not enunciated by him, is equally correct.

Whether the spirit of scepticism—which then undoubtedly aids in the investigation—is afterward aided or fostered by it, depends upon the nature of the question investigated. If this be one which has hitherto been considered as established upon a basis that was in every respect right, and if errors are revealed in the process of the examination, then, indeed, the spirit of scepticism is strengthened. But if, on the contrary, the investigation be in reference to a range of thought which rests upon a basis that is, in all ways, sound—concerning Mathematical truths, for instance—then the sceptical spirit is not aided by it, but is, contrariwise, weakened.

In respect to the field of inquiry covered by the author of 'Civilization in England,' it was seen that numerous statements had been accepted as true in early times, which closer scrutiny at a later period showed to be erroneous. Hence there came to be a want of confidence in the general basis upon which knowledge rested; and, as continued research served to confirm the doubts previously existing, investigation did aid, in this great department of thought, covering indeed the entire history of the past, the spirit of scepticism. As a fact, therefore, in relation to this special sphere of inquiry, Mr. Buckle's statement is correct; as a universal Generalization derived from this Fact, it may or may not be true, according to the subject of examination to which it is applied.

This proposition is, therefore, like that in relation to the moral and intellectual elements—as previously shown—and like all Mr. Buckle's Generalizations—as will be hereafter shown—a half-truth, a correct statement of one side of a verity, good so far as it goes, but essentially false when put for the whole, as in the present instance, or when held so as to exclude the opposite half-truth.

It is this fact, that basic truth is everywhere made up of a union of opposites, each of which seems, at first sight, to exclude the other, which the Historian himself so forcibly expresses when he exclaims: 'In the moral world, as in the physical world, nothing is anomalous; nothing is unnatural; nothing is strange. All is order, symmetry, and law. There are opposites, but there are no contradictions.' Had he understood the full meaning of this statement of the inherently paradoxical nature of truth, and been able to give the Principle which it establishes a universal application in unfolding the various domains of human intelligence and activity, he would have grasped the Knowledge for which he vainly strove, would have discovered the veritable Science of the Sciences, the long-sought Criterion of Truth. In the absence of a right understanding of this complex fact, that fundamental truth has always two sides affirming directly opposite half-truths, he fell into the error of mistaking the moiety for the whole, and has left us a world in which, with all the aid that he has afforded us, we still fail to discern the 'order, symmetry, and law' which undoubtedly pervade all its parts—a world in which there is still exhibited, so far at least as governmental, religious, and social affairs are concerned, an 'anomalous, strange, and unnatural' aspect.

Such consideration as it is feasible to give the first of these historical propositions in these columns, was, for the most part, included in that portion of the examination of the positions of our two authors, which was contained in the opening paper of the series; though no special application of Principles there elaborated was made to this formula. It was there pointed out, that intellectual forces constitute only one of the factors in the sum of human progress, and that moral forces are equally as important, being the second—the opposite and complementary factor. In the light of that exposition, and of the brief consideration here given to the second Generalization, it is perceptible that the defect in this proposition consists, not in what it affirms, but in what it does not affirm. 'That the progress of mankind depends on the success with which the laws of phenomena are investigated, and on the extent to which a knowledge of those laws is diffused,' is a statement which is undeniably true. It does not, however, contain the whole truth in relation to the subject of investigation. It is just as correct to say that the progress of mankind depends on the success with which the moral or religious faculties—faculties which instigate devotion to our highest perception of right—are cultivated, and on the extent to which they are practically active. For it is not in the inculcation of intellectual truth alone, or preeminently, nor in the cultivation of moral strength alone, or predominantly, that the progress of mankind is secured; but in the developing vigor of both mental and moral forces, and in their mutual cooeperation and assistance.

The proposition, as announced by Mr. Buckle, is, therefore, either a half-truth, which does not sufficiently explain the cause of 'the progress of mankind,' which the Historian avers that it unfolds, or it is actually false, accordingly as it is understood to state a verity which does not exclude the affirmative statement of an opposite and apparently antagonistic truth, or as it is interpreted to be the explanation of the whole or main cause upon which the advancement of society has depended. That the author of 'Civilization in England' regarded it in this latter light, is plainly apparent. His whole work is an elaborate attempt to establish the invalid theory, that human progress is due almost exclusively to the enlightenment of the intellect, and in a very minor degree only to the cultivation of the moral or religious nature. In a certain sense it is indeed true that all social elevation is the result of intellectual growth; but it is only in that absolute sense in which the Intellect is used for the totality of human faculties, and of course includes the moral faculty itself. In this sense, it is just as true to say that all progress is through the Moral Powers, using this term to include the whole of the human Mind, and consequently the intellectual forces. In either case, the question still remains, of the relative effect of the Intellectual and Moral powers upon the career of humanity, when considered as not including each other. It was in this relative point of view that Mr. Buckle entertained it.

With this cursory examination of the first and second propositions, their distinctive consideration will close. Some things, however, that will have to be enunciated in the investigation of the English Historian's Generalizations as a whole, are also necessary to a clear understanding of the merits and defects of each one taken singly. Additional light will also be thrown upon them in the course of our analysis of the fourth proposition, which practically touches more vital and important questions than are involved in the others. Contrary to previous announcement, want of space will prevent the examination of this Generalization and of Dr. Draper's work in the present paper.

After this article was put in type, the writer received a letter from a friend, a distinguished member of the Positive School, in which occurs the following sentence:

'I notice in your ... article on 'Buckle, Draper, and a Science of History,' one inaccuracy. You say: 'History, while it is the source whence the proof of his (Comte's) fundamental positions is drawn, finds no place in his scientific schedule.' In the positive Hierarchy of Science History is included: it constitutes the Dynamic Branch of Sociology. As in the Science of Life, Anatomy constitutes Biological Statics and Physiology Biological Dynamics, in Sociology we have Social Statics—the Theory of Order, Social Dynamics—the Theory of Progress = the Philosophy (Science) of History.'

The kindly criticism of the writer arises from that fruitful source of misunderstanding—a wrong apprehension of terms.

History, as it has been hitherto written, has been—First, a narration of the supposed facts of the past, without any especial attempt to investigate the proximate causes of national characteristics or mundane progression. Secondly, an account of the life and vicissitudes of states and communities, accompanied with an inquiry into the proximate causes of national peculiarities. These two Branches of Investigation have been included under the common appellation of History, when they related to a special portion of the globe; and of General or Universal History when, theoretically at least, the whole earth was under consideration. Thirdly, the examination of the past progress of the Race, with a view to the discovery of the fundamental Cause or Causes which control or direct the Evolutions of Time, or the Principles in accordance with which nations and civilizations have developed. This Department is denominated The Philosophy of History. From it are excluded all those investigations of an individual or national character which comprise History in the ordinary acceptation of the word.