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CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V
SUCH being the reasons which
make it imperative that human beings should be free to form opinions,
and to express their opinions without reserve; and such the baneful
consequences to the intellectual, and through that to the moral nature
of man, unless this liberty is either conceded, or asserted in spite of
prohibition; let us next examine whether the same reasons do not require
that men should be free to act upon their opinions--to carry these out
in their lives, without hindrance, either physical or moral, from their
fellow-men, so long as it is at their own risk and peril. This last
proviso is of course indispensable. No one pretends that actions should
be as free as opinions. On the contrary, even opinions lose their
immunity, when the circumstances in which they are expressed are such as
to constitute their expression a positive instigation to some
mischievous act. An opinion that corn-dealers are starvers of the poor,
or that private property is robbery, ought to be unmolested when simply
circulated through the press, but may justly incur punishment when
delivered orally to an excited mob assembled before the house of a
corn-dealer, or when handed about among the same mob in the form of a
placard. Acts of whatever kind, which, without justifiable cause, do
harm to others, may be, and in the more important cases absolutely
require to be, controlled by the unfavorable sentiments, and, when
needful, by the active interference of mankind. The liberty of the
individual must be thus far limited; he must not make himself a nuisance
to other people. But if he refrains from molesting others in what
concerns them, and merely acts according to his own inclination and
judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons which show
that opinion should be free, prove also that he should be allowed,
without molestation, to carry his opinions into practice at his own
cost. That mankind are not infallible; that their truths, for the most
part, are only half-truths; that unity of opinion, unless resulting from
the fullest and freest comparison of opposite opinions, is not
desirable, and diversity not an evil, but a good, until mankind are much
more capable than at present of recognizing all sides of the truth, are
principles applicable to men's modes of action, not less than to their
opinions. As it is useful that while mankind are imperfect there should
be different opinions, so is it that there should be different
experiments of living; that free scope should be given to varieties of
character, short of injury to others; and that the worth of different
modes of life should be proved practically, when any one thinks fit to
try them. It is desirable, in short, that in things which do not
primarily concern others, individuality should assert itself. Where, not
the person's own character, but the traditions of customs of other
people are the rule of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal
ingredients of human happiness, and quite the chief ingredient of
individual and social progress. In maintaining this principle,
the greatest difficulty to be encountered does not lie in the
appreciation of means towards an acknowledged end, but in the
indifference of persons in general to the end itself. If it were felt
that the free development of individuality is one of the leading
essentials of well-being; that it is not only a coordinate element with
all that is designated by the terms civilization, instruction,
education, culture, but is itself a necessary part and condition of all
those things; there would be no danger that liberty should be
undervalued, and the adjustment of the boundaries between it and social
control would present no extraordinary difficulty. But the evil is, that
individual spontaneity is hardly recognized by the common modes of
thinking as having any intrinsic worth, or deserving any regard on its
own account. The majority, being satisfied with the ways of mankind as
they now are (for it is they who make them what they are), cannot
comprehend why those ways should not be good enough for everybody; and
what is more, spontaneity forms no part of the ideal of the majority of
moral and social reformers, but is rather looked on with jealousy, as a
troublesome and perhaps rebellious obstruction to the general acceptance
of what these reformers, in their own judgment, think would be best for
mankind. Few persons, out of Germany, even comprehend the meaning of the
doctrine which Wilhelm von Humboldt, so eminent both as a savant and as
a politician, made the text of a treatise--that "the end of man, or
that which is prescribed by the eternal or immutable dictates of reason,
and not suggested by vague and transient desires, is the highest and
most harmonious development of his powers to a complete and consistent
whole;" that, therefore, the object "towards which every human
being must ceaselessly direct his efforts, and on which especially those
who design to influence their fellow-men must ever keep their eyes, is
the individuality of power and development;" that for this there
are two requisites, "freedom, and a variety of situations;"
and that from the union of these arise "individual vigor and
manifold diversity," which combine themselves in
"originality."[1] Little, however, as people are
accustomed to a doctrine like that of Von Humboldt, and surprising as it
may be to them to find so high a value attached to individuality, the
question, one must nevertheless think, can only be one of degree. No
one's idea of excellence in conduct is that people should do absolutely
nothing but copy one another. No one would assert that people ought not
to put into their mode of life, and into the conduct of their concerns,
any impress whatever of their own judgment, or of their own individual
character. On the other hand, it would be absurd to pretend that people
ought to live as if nothing whatever had been known in the world before
they came into it; as if experience had as yet done nothing towards
showing that one mode of existence, or of conduct, is preferable to
another. Nobody denies that people should be so taught and trained in
youth, as to know and benefit by the ascertained results of human
experience. But it is the privilege and proper condition of a human
being, arrived at the maturity of his faculties, to use and interpret
experience in his own way. It is for him to find out what part of
recorded experience is properly applicable to his own circumstances and
character. The traditions and customs of other people are, to a certain
extent, evidence of what their experience has taught them; presumptive
evidence, and as such, have a claim to this deference: but, in the first
place, their experience may be too narrow; or they may not have
interpreted it rightly. Secondly, their interpretation of experience may
be correct but unsuitable to him. Customs are made for customary
circumstances, and customary characters: and his circumstances or his
character may be uncustomary. Thirdly, though the customs be both good
as customs, and suitable to him, yet to conform to custom, merely as
custom, does not educate or develop in him any of the qualities which
are the distinctive endowment of a human being. The human faculties of
perception, judgment, discriminative feeling, mental activity, and even
moral preference, are exercised only in making a choice. He who does
anything because it is the custom, makes no choice. He gains no practice
either in discerning or in desiring what is best. The mental and moral,
like the muscular powers, are improved only by being used. The faculties
are called into no exercise by doing a thing merely because others do
it, no more than by believing a thing only because others believe it. If
the grounds of an opinion are not conclusive to the person's own reason,
his reason cannot be strengthened, but is likely to be weakened by his
adopting it: and if the inducements to an act are not such as are
consentaneous to his own feelings and character (where affection, or the
rights of others are not concerned), it is so much done towards
rendering his feelings and character inert and torpid, instead of active
and energetic. He who lets the world, or his
own portion of it, choose his plan of life for him, has no need of any
other faculty than the ape-like one of imitation. He who chooses his
plan for himself, employs all his faculties. He must use observation to
see, reasoning and judgment to foresee, activity to gather materials for
decision, discrimination to decide, and when he has decided, firmness
and self-control to hold to his deliberate decision. And these qualities
he requires and exercises exactly in proportion as the part of his
conduct which he determines according to his own judgment and feelings
is a large one. It is possible that he might be guided in some good
path, and kept out of harm's way, without any of these things. But what
will be his comparative worth as a human being? It really is of
importance, not only what men do, but also what manner of men they are
that do it. Among the works of man, which human life is rightly employed
in perfecting and beautifying, the first in importance surely is man
himself. Supposing it were possible to get houses built, corn grown,
battles fought, causes tried, and even churches erected and prayers
said, by machinery--by automatons in human form--it would be a
considerable loss to exchange for these automatons even the men and
women who at present inhabit the more civilized parts of the world, and
who assuredly are but starved specimens of what nature can and will
produce. Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, and
set to do exactly the work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires
to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of
the inward forces which make it a living thing. It will probably be conceded
that it is desirable people should exercise their understandings, and
that an intelligent following of custom, or even occasionally an
intelligent deviation from custom, is better than a blind and simply
mechanical adhesion to it. To a certain extent it is admitted, that our
understanding should be our own: but there is not the same willingness
to admit that our desires and impulses should be our own likewise; or
that to possess impulses of our own, and of any strength, is anything
but a peril and a snare. Yet desires and impulses are as much a part of
a perfect human being, as beliefs and restraints: and strong impulses
are only perilous when not properly balanced; when one set of aims and
inclinations is developed into strength, while others, which ought to
coexist with them, remain weak and inactive. It is not because men's
desires are strong that they act ill; it is because their consciences
are weak. There is no natural connection between strong impulses and a
weak conscience. The natural connection is the other way. To say that
one person's desires and feelings are stronger and more various than
those of another, is merely to say that he has more of the raw material
of human nature, and is therefore capable, perhaps of more evil, but
certainly of more good. Strong impulses are but another name for energy.
Energy may be turned to bad uses; but more good may always be made of an
energetic nature, than of an indolent and impassive one. Those who have
most natural feeling, are always those whose cultivated feelings may be
made the strongest. The same strong susceptibilities which make the
personal impulses vivid and powerful, are also the source from whence
are generated the most passionate love of virtue, and the sternest
self-control. It is through the cultivation of these, that society both
does its duty and protects its interests: not by rejecting the stuff of
which heroes are made, because it knows not how to make them. A person
whose desires and impulses are his own--are the expression of his own
nature, as it has been developed and modified by his own culture--is
said to have a character. One whose desires and impulses are not his
own, has no character, no more than a steam-engine has a character. If,
in addition to being his own, his impulses are strong, and are under the
government of a strong will, he has an energetic character. Whoever
thinks that individuality of desires and impulses should not be
encouraged to unfold itself, must maintain that society has no need of
strong natures--is not the better for containing many persons who have
much character--and that a high general average of energy is not
desirable. In some early states of society,
these forces might be, and were, too much ahead of the power which
society then possessed of disciplining and controlling them. There has
been a time when the element of spontaneity and individuality was in
excess, and the social principle had a hard struggle with it. The
difficulty then was, to induce men of strong bodies or minds to pay
obedience to any rules which required them to control their impulses. To
overcome this difficulty, law and discipline, like the Popes struggling
against the Emperors, asserted a power over the whole man, claiming to
control all his life in order to control his character--which society
had not found any other sufficient means of binding. But society has now
fairly got the better of individuality; and the danger which threatens
human nature is not the excess, but the deficiency, of personal impulses
and preferences. Things are vastly changed, since the passions of those
who were strong by station or by personal endowment were in a state of
habitual rebellion against laws and ordinances, and required to be
rigorously chained up to enable the persons within their reach to enjoy
any particle of security. In our times, from the highest class of
society down to the lowest every one lives as under the eye of a hostile
and dreaded censorship. Not only in what concerns others, but in what
concerns only themselves, the individual, or the family, do not ask
themselves--what do I prefer? or, what would suit my character and
disposition? or, what would allow the best and highest in me to have
fair play, and enable it to grow and thrive? They ask themselves, what
is suitable to my position? what is usually done by persons of my
station and pecuniary circumstances? or (worse still) what is usually
done by persons of a station and circumstances superior to mine? I do
not mean that they choose what is customary, in preference to what suits
their own inclination. It does not occur to them to have any
inclination, except for what is customary. Thus the mind itself is bowed
to the yoke: even in what people do for pleasure, conformity is the
first thing thought of; they like in crowds; they exercise choice only
among things commonly done: peculiarity of taste, eccentricity of
conduct, are shunned equally with crimes: until by dint of not following
their own nature, they have no nature to follow: their human capacities
are withered and starved: they become incapable of any strong wishes or
native pleasures, and are generally without either opinions or feelings
of home growth, or properly their own. Now is this, or is it not, the
desirable condition of human nature? It is so, on the Calvinistic
theory. According to that, the one great offence of man is Self-will.
All the good of which humanity is capable, is comprised in Obedience.
You have no choice; thus you must do, and no otherwise; "whatever
is not a duty is a sin." Human nature being radically corrupt,
there is no redemption for any one until human nature is killed within
him. To one holding this theory of life, crushing out any of the human
faculties, capacities, and susceptibilities, is no evil: man needs no
capacity, but that of surrendering himself to the will of God: and if he
uses any of his faculties for any other purpose but to do that supposed
will more effectually, he is better without them. That is the theory of
Calvinism; and it is held, in a mitigated form, by many who do not
consider themselves Calvinists; the mitigation consisting in giving a
less ascetic interpretation to the alleged will of God; asserting it to
be his will that mankind should gratify some of their inclinations; of
course not in the manner they themselves prefer, but in the way of
obedience, that is, in a way prescribed to them by authority; and,
therefore, by the necessary conditions of the case, the same for all. In some such insidious form
there is at present a strong tendency to this narrow theory of life, and
to the pinched and hidebound type of human character which it
patronizes. Many persons, no doubt, sincerely think that human beings
thus cramped and dwarfed, are as their Maker designed them to be; just
as many have thought that trees are a much finer thing when clipped into
pollards, or cut out into figures of animals, than as nature made them.
But if it be any part of religion to believe that man was made by a good
Being, it is more consistent with that faith to believe, that this Being
gave all human faculties that they might be cultivated and unfolded, not
rooted out and consumed, and that he takes delight in every nearer
approach made by his creatures to the ideal conception embodied in them,
every increase in any of their capabilities of comprehension, of action,
or of enjoyment. There is a different type of human excellence from the
Calvinistic; a conception of humanity as having its nature bestowed on
it for other purposes than merely to be abnegated. "Pagan
self-assertion" is one of the elements of human worth, as well as
"Christian self-denial."[2] There is a Greek ideal of
self-development, which the Platonic and Christian ideal of
self-government blends with, but does not supersede. It may be better to
be a John Knox than an Alcibiades, but it is better to be a Pericles
than either; nor would a Pericles, if we had one in these days, be
without anything good which belonged to John Knox. It is not by wearing down into
uniformity all that is individual in themselves, but by cultivating it
and calling it forth, within the limits imposed by the rights and
interests of others, that human beings become a noble and beautiful
object of contemplation; and as the works partake the character of those
who do them, by the same process human life also becomes rich,
diversified, and animating, furnishing more abundant aliment to high
thoughts and elevating feelings, and strengthening the tie which binds
every individual to the race, by making the race infinitely better worth
belonging to. In proportion to the development of his individuality,
each person becomes more valuable to himself, and is therefore capable
of being more valuable to others. There is a greater fulness of life
about his own existence, and when there is more life in the units there
is more in the mass which is composed of them. As much compression as is
necessary to prevent the stronger specimens of human nature from
encroaching on the rights of others, cannot be dispensed with; but for
this there is ample compensation even in the point of view of human
development. The means of development which the individual loses by
being prevented from gratifying his inclinations to the injury of
others, are chiefly obtained at the expense of the development of other
people. And even to himself there is a full equivalent in the better
development of the social part of his nature, rendered possible by the
restraint put upon the selfish part. To be held to rigid rules of
justice for the sake of others, develops the feelings and capacities
which have the good of others for their object. But to be restrained in
things not affecting their good, by their mere displeasure, develops
nothing valuable, except such force of character as may unfold itself in
resisting the restraint. If acquiesced in, it dulls and blunts the whole
nature. To give any fair play to the nature of each, it is essential
that different persons should be allowed to lead different lives. In
proportion as this latitude has been exercised in any age, has that age
been noteworthy to posterity. Even despotism does not produce its worst
effects, so long as Individuality exists under it; and whatever crushes
individuality is despotism, by whatever name it may be called, and
whether it professes to be enforcing the will of God or the injunctions
of men. Having said that Individuality
is the same thing with development, and that it is only the cultivation
of individuality which produces, or can produce, well-developed human
beings, I might here close the argument: for what more or better can be
said of any condition of human affairs, than that it brings human beings
themselves nearer to the best thing they can be? or what worse can be
said of any obstruction to good, than that it prevents this? Doubtless,
however, these considerations will not suffice to convince those who
most need convincing; and it is necessary further to show, that these
developed human beings are of some use to the undeveloped--to point out
to those who do not desire liberty, and would not avail themselves of
it, that they may be in some intelligible manner rewarded for allowing
other people to make use of it without hindrance. In the first place, then, I
would suggest that they might possibly learn something from them. It
will not be denied by anybody, that originality is a valuable element in
human affairs. There is always need of persons not only to discover new
truths, and point out when what were once truths are true no longer, but
also to commence new practices, and set the example of more enlightened
conduct, and better taste and sense in human life. This cannot well be
gainsaid by anybody who does not believe that the world has already
attained perfection in all its ways and practices. It is true that this
benefit is not capable of being rendered by everybody alike: there are
but few persons, in comparison with the whole of mankind, whose
experiments, if adopted by others, would be likely to be any improvement
on established practice. But these few are the salt of the earth;
without them, human life would become a stagnant pool. Not only is it
they who introduce good things which did not before exist; it is they
who keep the life in those which already existed. If there were nothing
new to be done, would human intellect cease to be necessary? Would it be
a reason why those who do the old things should forget why they are
done, and do them like cattle, not like human beings? There is only too
great a tendency in the best beliefs and practices to degenerate into
the mechanical; and unless there were a succession of persons whose
ever-recurring originality prevents the grounds of those beliefs and
practices from becoming merely traditional, such dead matter would not
resist the smallest shock from anything really alive, and there would be
no reason why civilization should not die out, as in the Byzantine
Empire. Persons of genius, it is true, are, and are always likely to be,
a small minority; but in order to have them, it is necessary to preserve
the soil in which they grow. Genius can only breathe freely in an
atmosphere of freedom. Persons of genius are, ex
vi termini, more individual than any other people--less capable,
consequently, of fitting themselves, without hurtful compression, into
any of the small number of moulds which society provides in order to
save its members the trouble of forming their own character. If from
timidity they consent to be forced into one of these moulds, and to let
all that part of themselves which cannot expand under the pressure
remain unexpanded, society will be little the better for their genius.
If they are of a strong character, and break their fetters they become a
mark for the society which has not succeeded in reducing them to
common-place, to point at with solemn warning as "wild,"
"erratic," and the like; much as if one should complain of the
Niagara river for not flowing smoothly between its banks like a Dutch
canal. I insist thus emphatically on
the importance of genius, and the necessity of allowing it to unfold
itself freely both in thought and in practice, being well aware that no
one will deny the position in theory, but knowing also that almost every
one, in reality, is totally indifferent to it. People think genius a
fine thing if it enables a man to write an exciting poem, or paint a
picture. But in its true sense, that of originality in thought and
action, though no one says that it is not a thing to be admired, nearly
all, at heart, think they can do very well without it. Unhappily this is
too natural to be wondered at. Originality is the one thing which
unoriginal minds cannot feel the use of. They cannot see what it is to
do for them: how should they? If they could see what it would do for
them, it would not be originality. The first service which originality
has to render them, is that of opening their eyes: which being once
fully done, they would have a chance of being themselves original.
Meanwhile, recollecting that nothing was ever yet done which some one
was not the first to do, and that all good things which exist are the
fruits of originality, let them be modest enough to believe that there
is something still left for it to accomplish, and assure themselves that
they are more in need of originality, the less they are conscious of the
want. In sober truth, whatever homage
may be professed, or even paid, to real or supposed mental superiority,
the general tendency of things throughout the world is to render
mediocrity the ascendant power among mankind. In ancient history, in the
Middle Ages, and in a diminishing degree through the long transition
from feudality to the present time, the individual was a power in
himself; and If he had either great talents or a high social position,
he was a considerable power. At present individuals are lost in the
crowd. In politics it is almost a triviality to say that public opinion
now rules the world. The only power deserving the name is that of
masses, and of governments while they make themselves the organ of the
tendencies and instincts of masses. This is as true in the moral and
social relations of private life as in public transactions. Those whose
opinions go by the name of public opinion, are not always the same sort
of public: in America, they are the whole white population; in England,
chiefly the middle class. But they are always a mass, that is to say,
collective mediocrity. And what is still greater novelty, the mass do
not now take their opinions from dignitaries in Church or State, from
ostensible leaders, or from books. Their thinking is done for them by
men much like themselves, addressing them or speaking in their name, on
the spur of the moment, through the newspapers. I am not complaining of
all this. I do not assert that anything better is compatible, as a
general rule, with the present low state of the human mind. But that
does not hinder the government of mediocrity from being mediocre
government. No government by a democracy or a numerous aristocracy,
either in its political acts or in the opinions, qualities, and tone of
mind which it fosters, ever did or could rise above mediocrity, except
in so far as the sovereign Many have let themselves be guided (which in
their best times they always have done) by the counsels and influence of
a more highly gifted and instructed One or Few. The initiation of all
wise or noble things, comes and must come from individuals; generally at
first from some one individual. The honor and glory of the average man
is that he is capable of following that initiative; that he can respond
internally to wise and noble things, and be led to them with his eyes
open. I am not countenancing the sort of "hero-worship" which
applauds the strong man of genius for forcibly seizing on the government
of the world and making it do his bidding in spite of itself. All he can
claim is, freedom to point out the way. The power of compelling others
into it, is not only inconsistent with the freedom and development of
all the rest, but corrupting to the strong man himself. It does seem,
however, that when the opinions of masses of merely average men are
everywhere become or becoming the dominant power, the counterpoise and
corrective to that tendency would be, the more and more pronounced
individuality of those who stand on the higher eminences of thought. It
Is in these circumstances most especially, that exceptional individuals,
instead of being deterred, should be encouraged in acting differently
from the mass. In other times there was no advantage in their doing so,
unless they acted not only differently, but better. In this age the mere
example of non-conformity, the mere refusal to bend the knee to custom,
is itself a service. Precisely because the tyranny of opinion is such as
to make eccentricity a reproach, it is desirable, in order to break
through that tyranny, that people should be eccentric. Eccentricity has
always abounded when and where strength of character has abounded; and
the amount of eccentricity in a society has generally been proportional
to the amount of genius, mental vigor, and moral courage which it
contained. That so few now dare to be eccentric, marks the chief danger
of the time. I have said that it is important
to give the freest scope possible to uncustomary things, in order that
it may in time appear which of these are fit to be converted into
customs. But independence of action, and disregard of custom are not
solely deserving of encouragement for the chance they afford that better
modes of action, and customs more worthy of general adoption, may be
struck out; nor is it only persons of decided mental superiority who
have a just claim to carry on their lives in their own way. There is no
reason that all human existences should be constructed on some one, or
some small number of patterns. If a person possesses any tolerable
amount of common sense and experience, his own mode of laying out his
existence is the best, not because it is the best in itself, but because
it is his own mode. Human beings are not like sheep; and even sheep are
not undistinguishably alike. A man cannot get a coat or a pair of boots
to fit him, unless they are either made to his measure, or he has a
whole warehouseful to choose from: and is it easier to fit him with a
life than with a coat, or are human beings more like one another in
their whole physical and spiritual conformation than in the shape of
their feet? If it were only that people have diversities of taste that
is reason enough for not attempting to shape them all after one model.
But different persons also require different conditions for their
spiritual development; and can no more exist healthily in the same
moral, than all the variety of plants can in the same physical
atmosphere and climate. The same things which are helps to one person
towards the cultivation of his higher nature, are hindrances to another.
The same mode of life is a healthy excitement to one, keeping all his
faculties of action and enjoyment in their best order, while to another
it is a distracting burden, which suspends or crushes all internal life.
Such are the differences among human beings in their sources of
pleasure, their susceptibilities of pain, and the operation on them of
different physical and moral agencies, that unless there is a
corresponding diversity in their modes of life, they neither obtain
their fair share of happiness, nor grow up to the mental, moral, and
aesthetic stature of which their nature is capable. Why then should
tolerance, as far as the public sentiment is concerned, extend only to
tastes and modes of life which extort acquiescence by the multitude of
their adherents? Nowhere (except in some monastic institutions) is
diversity of taste entirely unrecognized; a person may without blame,
either like or dislike rowing, or smoking, or music, or athletic
exercises, or chess, or cards, or study, because both those who like
each of these things, and those who dislike them, are too numerous to be
put down. But the man, and still more the woman, who can be accused
either of doing "what nobody does," or of not doing "what
everybody does," is the subject of as much depreciatory remark as
if he or she had committed some grave moral delinquency. Persons require
to possess a title, or some other badge of rank, or the consideration of
people of rank, to be able to indulge somewhat in the luxury of doing as
they like without detriment to their estimation. To indulge somewhat, I
repeat: for whoever allow themselves much of that indulgence, incur the
risk of something worse than disparaging speeches--they are in peril of
a commission de lunatico, and of having their property taken from them
and given to their relations.[3] There is one characteristic of
the present direction of public opinion, peculiarly calculated to make
it intolerant of any marked demonstration of individuality. The general
average of mankind are not only moderate in intellect, but also moderate
in inclinations: they have no tastes or wishes strong enough to incline
them to do anything unusual, and they consequently do not understand
those who have, and class all such with the wild and intemperate whom
they are accustomed to look down upon. Now, in addition to this fact
which is general, we have only to suppose that a strong movement has set
in towards the improvement of morals, and it is evident what we have to
expect. In these days such a movement has set in; much has actually been
effected in the way of increased regularity of conduct, and
discouragement of excesses; and there is a philanthropic spirit abroad,
for the exercise of which there is no more inviting field than the moral
and prudential improvement of our fellow-creatures. These tendencies of
the times cause the public to be more disposed than at most former
periods to prescribe general rules of conduct, and endeavor to make
every one conform to the approved standard. And that standard, express
or tacit, is to desire nothing strongly. Its ideal of character is to be
without any marked character; to maim by compression, like a Chinese
lady's foot, every part of human nature which stands out prominently,
and tends to make the person markedly dissimilar in outline to
common-place humanity. As is usually the case with
ideals which exclude one half of what is desirable, the present standard
of approbation produces only an inferior imitation of the other half.
Instead of great energies guided by vigorous reason, and strong feelings
strongly controlled by a conscientious will, its result is weak feelings
and weak energies, which therefore can be kept in outward conformity to
rule without any strength either of will or of reason. Already energetic
characters on any large scale are becoming merely traditional. There is
now scarcely any outlet for energy in this country except business. The
energy expended in that may still be regarded as considerable. What
little is left from that employment, is expended on some hobby; which
may be a useful, even a philanthropic hobby, but is always some one
thing, and generally a thing of small dimensions. The greatness of
England is now all collective: individually small, we only appear
capable of anything great by our habit of combining; and with this our
moral and religious philanthropists are perfectly contented. But it was
men of another stamp than this that made England what it has been; and
men of another stamp will be needed to prevent its decline. The despotism of custom is
everywhere the standing hindrance to human advancement, being in
unceasing antagonism to that disposition to aim at something better than
customary, which is called, according to circumstances, the spirit of
liberty, or that of progress or improvement. The spirit of improvement
is not always a spirit of liberty, for it may aim at forcing
improvements on an unwilling people; and the spirit of liberty, in so
far as it resists such attempts, may ally itself locally and temporarily
with the opponents of improvement; but the only unfailing and permanent
source of improvement is liberty, since by it there are as many possible
independent centres of improvement as there are individuals. The
progressive principle, however, in either shape, whether as the love of
liberty or of improvement, is antagonistic to the sway of Custom,
involving at least emancipation from that yoke; and the contest between
the two constitutes the chief interest of the history of mankind. The
greater part of the world has, properly speaking, no history, because
the despotism of Custom is complete. This is the case over the whole
East. Custom is there, in all things, the final appeal; Justice and
right mean conformity to custom; the argument of custom no one, unless
some tyrant intoxicated with power, thinks of resisting. And we see the
result. Those nations must once have had originality; they did not start
out of the ground populous, lettered, and versed in many of the arts of
life; they made themselves all this, and were then the greatest and most
powerful nations in the world. What are they now? The subjects or
dependents of tribes whose forefathers wandered in the forests when
theirs had magnificent palaces and gorgeous temples, but over whom
custom exercised only a divided rule with liberty and progress. A
people, it appears, may be progressive for a certain length of time, and
then stop: when does it stop? When it ceases to possess individuality.
If a similar change should befall the nations of Europe, it will not be
in exactly the same shape: the despotism of custom with which these
nations are threatened is not precisely stationariness. It proscribes
singularity, but it does not preclude change, provided all change
together. We have discarded the fixed costumes of our forefathers; every
one must still dress like other people, but the fashion may change once
or twice a year. We thus take care that when there is change, it shall
be for change's sake, and not from any idea of beauty or convenience;
for the same idea of beauty or convenience would not strike all the
world at the same moment, and be simultaneously thrown aside by all at
another moment. But we are progressive as well as changeable: we
continually make new inventions in mechanical things, and keep them
until they are again superseded by better; we are eager for improvement
in politics, in education, even in morals, though in this last our idea
of improvement chiefly consists in persuading or forcing other people to
be as good as ourselves. It is not progress that we object to; on the
contrary, we flatter ourselves that we are the most progressive people
who ever lived. It is individuality that we war against: we should think
we had done wonders if we had made ourselves all alike; forgetting that
the unlikeness of one person to another is generally the first thing
which draws the attention of either to the imperfection of his own type,
and the superiority of another, or the possibility, by combining the
advantages of both, of producing something better than either. We have a
warning example in China--a nation of much talent, and, in some
respects, even wisdom, owing to the rare good fortune of having been
provided at an early period with a particularly good set of customs, the
work, in some measure, of men to whom even the most enlightened European
must accord, under certain limitations, the title of sages and
philosophers. They are remarkable, too, in the excellence of their
apparatus for impressing, as far as possible, the best wisdom they
possess upon every mind in the community, and securing that those who
have appropriated most of it shall occupy the posts of honor and power.
Surely the people who did this have discovered the secret of human
progressiveness, and must have kept themselves steadily at the head of
the movement of the world. On the contrary, they have become
stationary--have remained so for thousands of years; and if they are
ever to be farther improved, it must be by foreigners. They have
succeeded beyond all hope in what English philanthropists are so
industriously working at--in making a people all alike, all governing
their thoughts and conduct by the same maxims and rules; and these are
the fruits. The modern regime of public opinion is, in an unorganized
form, what the Chinese educational and political systems are in an
organized; and unless individuality shall be able successfully to assert
itself against this yoke, Europe, notwithstanding its noble antecedents
and its professed Christianity, will tend to become another China. What is it that has hitherto
preserved Europe from this lot? What has made the European family of
nations an improving, instead of a stationary portion of mankind? Not
any superior excellence in them, which when it exists, exists as the
effect, not as the cause; but their remarkable diversity of character
and culture. Individuals, classes, nations, have been extremely unlike
one another: they have struck out a great variety of paths, each leading
to something valuable; and although at every period those who travelled
in different paths have been intolerant of one another, and each would
have thought it an excellent thing if all the rest could have been
compelled to travel his road, their attempts to thwart each other's
development have rarely had any permanent success, and each has in time
endured to receive the good which the others have offered. Europe is, in
my judgment, wholly indebted to this plurality of paths for its
progressive and many-sided development. But it already begins to possess
this benefit in a considerably less degree. It is decidedly advancing
towards the Chinese ideal of making all people alike. M. de Tocqueville,
in his last important work, remarks how much more the Frenchmen of the
present day resemble one another, than did those even of the last
generation. The same remark might be made of Englishmen in a far greater
degree. In a passage already quoted from Wilhelm von Humboldt, he points
out two things as necessary conditions of human development, because
necessary to render people unlike one another; namely, freedom, and
variety of situations. The second of these two conditions is in this
country every day diminishing. The circumstances which surround
different classes and individuals, and shape their characters, are daily
becoming more assimilated. Formerly, different ranks, different
neighborhoods, different trades and professions lived in what might be
called different worlds; at present, to a great degree, in the same.
Comparatively speaking, they now read the same things, listen to the
same things, see the same things, go to the same places, have their
hopes and fears directed to the same objects, have the same rights and
liberties, and the same means of asserting them. Great as are the
differences of position which remain, they are nothing to those which
have ceased. And the assimilation is still proceeding. All the political
changes of the age promote it, since they all tend to raise the low and
to lower the high. Every extension of education promotes it, because
education brings people under common influences, and gives them access
to the general stock of facts and sentiments. Improvements in the means
of communication promote it, by bringing the inhabitants of distant
places into personal contact, and keeping up a rapid flow of changes of
residence between one place and another. The increase of commerce and
manufactures promotes it, by diffusing more widely the advantages of
easy circumstances, and opening all objects of ambition, even the
highest, to general competition, whereby the desire of rising becomes no
longer the character of a particular class, but of all classes. A more
powerful agency than even all these, in bringing about a general
similarity among mankind, is the complete establishment, in this and
other free countries, of the ascendancy of public opinion in the State.
As the various social eminences which enabled persons entrenched on them
to disregard the opinion of the multitude, gradually became levelled; as
the very idea of resisting the will of the public, when it is positively
known that they have a will, disappears more and more from the minds of
practical politicians; there ceases to be any social support for
non-conformity--any substantive power in society, which, itself opposed
to the ascendancy of numbers, is interested in taking under its
protection opinions and tendencies at variance with those of the public.
The combination of all these causes forms so great a mass of influences hostile to Individuality, that it is not easy to see how it can stand its ground. It will do so with increasing difficulty, unless the intelligent part of the public can be made to feel its value--to see that it is good there should be differences, even though not for the better, even though, as it may appear to them, some should be for the worse. If the claims of Individuality are ever to be asserted, the time is now, while much is still wanting to complete the enforced assimilation. It is only in the earlier stages that any stand can be successfully made against the encroachment. The demand that all other people shall resemble ourselves, grows by what it feeds on. If resistance waits till life is reduced nearly to one uniform type, all deviations from that type will come to be considered impious, immoral, even monstrous and contrary to nature. Mankind speedily become unable to conceive diversity, when they have been for some time unaccustomed to see it. [1] The Sphere and Duties of Government, from the German of Baron Wilhelm von Humboldt, pp. 11-13. [2] Sterling's Essays. [3] There is something both contemptible and frightful in the sort of evidence on which, of late years, any person can be judicially declared unfit for the management of his affairs; and after his death, his disposal of his property can be set aside, if there is enough of it to pay the expenses of litigation--which are charged on the property itself. All of the minute details of his daily life are pried into, and whatever is found which, seen through the medium of the perceiving and escribing faculties of the lowest of the low, bears an appearance unlike absolute commonplace, is laid before the jury as evidence of insanity, and often with success; the jurors being little, if at all, less vulgar and ignorant than the witnesses; while the judges, with that extraordinary want of knowledge of human nature and life which continually astonishes us in English lawyers, often help to mislead them. These trials speak volumes as to the state of feeling and opinion among the vulgar with regard to human liberty. So far from setting any value on individuality--so far from respecting the rights of each individual to act, in things indifferent, as seems good to his own judgment and inclinations, judges and juries cannot even conceive that a person in a state of sanity can desire such freedom. In former days, when it was proposed to burn atheists, charitable people used to suggest putting them in a madhouse instead: it would be nothing surprising now-a-days were we to see this done, and the doers applauding themselves, because, instead of persecuting for religion, they had adopted so humane and Christian a mode of treating these unfortunates, not without a silent satisfaction at their having thereby obtained their deserts.
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