liberty, as of the monarchical vision of the patriot king. It inspires a La Fayette as well as a Laroche Jaquelin, and a Robert Owen as well as an Ignatius Loyola. It is the pure gold of idealism mixed with the alloy of practicality which is the movent coin of the world. And a writer who fails to see this, though, to use the words of one of Mr. Buckle's ablest critics, "his volumes may form a very interesting and instructive commentary on the growth of intellectual truths, and their influence on the human mind," will fail to the last in "analysing the true principles of civilization."

But we should be doing injustice to Mr. Buckle if we did not give our readers some specimens of his delightful style before we close this short notice. The following passage, though rather egotistic and a little pompous, is nevertheless a very fair example. The subject of it is the philosopher's sacrifices.

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 honoured 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 recompence lies within himself, and he must learn to care little for the sympathy of his fellow-creatures, or for such honours as they are able to bestow. So far from looking for these things, he should rather be prepared for that obloquy which 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.

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 savoured 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.

We feel inclined to say to Mr. Buckle, in the words of Bon Gualtier, that if he could go into the House of Commons it would probably do him "an infernal deal of good." But as he cannot do that, we recommend him, at least, to try and belong to some large parish vestry, to get made an alderman, to keep a pack of hounds, to take her Majesty's theatre, or to do something or other to teach himself what human beings are like. We suppose he is like a second Sidonia, and knows all languages, philosophies, and literatures. He has doubtless the learning of

Solomon; but, alas! not his wisdom. He knows every thing which an historian should know, except one thing—and that is his own species.

We shall conclude with the following able comparison of the deductive and inductive method, to which we have no exception to take:

If we take a general view of those countries where science has been cultivated, we shall find that, wherever the deductive method of inquiry has predominated, knowledge, though often increased and accumulated, has never been widely diffused. On the other hand, we shall find that, when the inductive method has predominated, the diffusion of knowledge has always been considerable, or, at all events, has been beyond comparison greater than when deduction was prevalent. This holds good, not only of different countries, but also of different periods in the same country. It even holds good of different individuals in the same period, and in the same country. If, in any civilized nation, two men, equally gifted, were to propound some new and startling conclusion, and one of these men were to defend his conclusion by reasoning from ideas or general principles, while the other man were to defend his by reasoning from particular and visible facts, there can be no doubt that, supposing all other things the same, the latter man would gain most adherents. His conclusion would be more easily diffused, simply because a direct appeal, in the first instance, to palpable facts, strikes the vulgar with immediate effect; while an appeal to principles is beyond their ken, and as they do not sympathize with it, they are apt to ridicule it. Facts seem to come home to every one, and are undeniable. Principles are not so obvious; and, being often disputed, they have, to those who do not grasp them, an unreal and illusory appearance, which weakens their influence. Hence it is that inductive science, which always gives the first place to facts, is essentially popular, and has on its side those innumerable persons who will not listen to the more refined and subtle teachings of deductive science. Hence, too, we find historically that the establishment of the modern inductive philosophy, with its varied and attractive experiments, its material appliances, and its constant appeal to the senses, has been intimately connected with the awakening of the public mind, and coincides with that spirit of inquiry, and with that love of liberty, which have been constantly advancing since the sixteenth century. We may assuredly say, that scepticism and democracy are the two leading features of this great scientific movement. The seventeenth century, which ushered in the Baconian philosophy, was remarkable for its insubordinate spirit, especially in the country where that philosophy originated, and where it most flourished. In the next age, it was transplanted into France, and there, too, it worked upon the popular mind, and was, as I have already pointed out, one of the principal causes of the French Revolution.

There are, however, more reasons than are here given why the inductive method is favourable to democracy, and the deductive one to more scientific forms of government and society; but we cannot pursue them here. We would say, in conclusion, that the leading principles of the volume are so simple, and the arguments by which they are defended arranged in such good order, that our readers need not imagine our own account of them to be imperfect because they are so brief. Details they can fill in for themselves at leisure to almost any extent; but the general truths sought to be established in this volume, we believe we have adequately represented.

THE

MORAL OF THE SESSION.

HE Session of 1861 promises to be an unusually short one; nor will it, we imagine, be remembered either by the importance or the utility of the measures enacted in its progress. In Finance, indeed, the coping-stone has been placed upon Mr. Gladstone's edifice of direct taxation, and the Repeal of the Paper Duty, carrying anxiety to the hearts of the most liberal and sagacious of our economists, is the one achievement to which either the glory or the infamy of the present Session will hereafter be assigned. But, with that exception, little or nothing has been done. By far the larger portion of the time which our representatives have spent in the House of Commons, has been occupied in resisting measures ostensibly sanctioned by government, but plainly distasteful to the nation; and that circumstance it is which will probably be long referred to as the characteristic feature of the year. The Government and the Opposition have virtually changed places. The few measures which the former have brought forward had no hopes of success without the support of the Conservatives; nor has even one been carried against which the Opposition chose to put forth its full strength. At the same time, we must hasten to do justice to the discretion which government has displayed in abstaining from taking the

initiative in legislation. It is certainly still open to them to boast that they have been beaten, as yet, in the House of Commons upon only one government measure. They have wisely allowed the House of Commons to take the business of the Session into its own hands; and although they have frequently been beaten upon questions introduced by independent members: that only inflicts a gradual loss of credit and prestige, like the body blows which tell in the long run against a pugilist, but do not create the same instantaneous effect as a straight delivery on the nose. The Commons House however has been, throughout the present Session, eminently a House without a head. The government, which came in as a Liberal government, has found its hands tied. It could not consistently adopt a Conservative policy. Yet the general spirit of the nation was hostile to any other. Hence the Cabinet of Lord Palmerston found it was the best plan to sit still with folded arms and let the Session conduct itself; nor have the advantages of "a masterly inactivity " ever been more clearly illustrated than by the safety which it has secured to Lord Palmerston in the midst of so many apparent dangers. At the same time, it will hardly be pretended that this is an entirely satisfactory state of things. Conservative sentiments being in the ascendant throughout the country, a fact no longer denied either by the "Times," or by "the gentlemen of the Superfine Review," or any other of the more intelligent organs of opinion which are generally hostile to the Opposition, it is only natural that the Conservative party should be in office. Whenever the party which is in power is out of harmony with the general tone of public opinion, the machinery of representative government is not doing its work properly. And though a kind of tacit compromise has been effected at the present time between Lord Palmerston and Lord Derby, owing to which the whole results of the present Session are, with one exception, in accordance with the public temper, yet the compromise itself is after all but a necessary evil. It is better that it should continue for a time, than that the Conservatives should again find themselves in office without a sound working majority. It is immediately beneficial; but we fear that, if prolonged, it will ultimately prove most injurious. It secures for the present such an adjustment of parties as gives effect to