A conscious as well as an unconscious adhesion to the old in usage and doctrine is shown. Not only among Roman Out-holies but among many Protestants, to ascertain what the Fathers said, is to ascertain what should be believed. In the pending controversy about tho Athanasian Creed, we see how much authority attaches to an antique document. Tho an tagonism between Convocation and tho lay members of the Church— the one as a body wishing to retain the cursing clauses and the other to exclude them — further shows that ollicial Protestantism adheres to antiquity much more than non-official Protestantism: a contrast equally displayed.not long since between the opinions of the lay part and the clerical part of the Protestant Irish Church.
Throughout political organizations the like tendency, though less dominant, is very strong. The gradual establish ment of law by the consolidation of custom, is tho formation of something fixed in tho midst of things that are changing; and, regarded under its most general aspect as the agency which maintains a permanent order, it is in the very nature of;i State-organization to be relatively rigid. Tho way in which primitive principles and practices, no longer fully in force among individuals ruled, survive in tho actions of ruling agents, is curiously illustrated by the long retention between nobles of a right of feud after it had been disallowed between eiti/ens. Chief vassals, too, retained this power to secure jus tice for themselves after smaller vassals lost it: not only was a right of war with one another recognized, but also a right of defence against the king. And we see that even now, in the dealings between Governments, armed force to remedy in juries is still employed, as it originally was between all indi viduals. As bearing in the same direction, it is significant that the right of trial by battle, which was a regulated form of the aboriginal system under which men administered jus tice in their own cases, survived among the ruling classes when no longer legal among inferior classes. Even on behalf of religious communities judicial duels were fought. Here the thing it concerns us to note is that tho system of fighting in person and lighting by deputy, when no longer otherwise lawful, was retained, actually or formally, in various parts of the regulative organization. Up to the reign of ( leorge 111., trial by battle could bo claimed as an alternative of trial In jury. Duels continued till quite recently between members of the ruling classes, and especially between officers; and even now in Continental armies duelling is not only recognized as proper, but is, in some cases, imperative. And then, showing most strikingly how these oldest usages survive longest, in connexion with the oldest part of the governing organization, we have had in the coronation ceremony, up to modern times, a champion in armour uttering by herald a challenge to all comers 011 behalf of the monarch.
If, from the agencies by which law is enforced, we pass to legal forms, language, documents, &c., the like tendency is everywhere conspicuous. Parchment is retained for lawdeeds though paper has replaced it for other purposes. The form of writing is an old form. Latin and Norman-French terms are still in use for legal purposes, though not otherwise in use; and even old English words, such as "seize," retain in Law, meanings which they have lost in current speech. In the execution of documents, too, the same truth is illustrated; for the seal, which was originally the signature, continues, though the written signature now practically replaces it — n'ay, we retain a symbol of the symbol, as may be seen in every share transfer, where there is a pa per- wafer to repre sent the seal. Even still more antique usages survive in legal transactions; as in the form extant in Scotland of handing over a portion of rock when an estate is sold, which evidently answers to the ceremony among the an cient nations of sending earth and water as a sign of yielding territory.
From the working of State-departments, too, many kin dred illustrations might be given. Even under the peremp tory requirements of national safety, the Hint-lock for muskets was but tardily replaced by the percussion-lock; and the rifle had been commonly in use for sporting purposes' generations before it came into more than sparing use for military pur poses. Book-keeping by double entry had long been perma nently established in the mercantile world before it superseded book-keeping by single entry in Government offices: its adop tion dating back only to 1834, when a still more antique sys tem of keeping accounts by notches cut on sticks, was put an c,n(\ to by the conflagration that resulted from the burning of UK; Exchequer-tallies.
The like holds with apparel, in general and in detail. Cocked hats are yet to be seen on the heads of officers. An extinct form of dress still holds its ground as the Court-dress; and the sword once habitually worn by gentlemen has be come the dress-sword worn only on State-occasions. Every where officialism has its established uniforms, which may be traced back to old fashions that have disappeared from ordi nary life. Some of these antique articles of costume we see sur mounting the heads of judges; others there are which still hang round the necks of the clergy; and others which linger on the legs of bishops.
Thus, from the use of a flint-knife by the Jews for the reli gious ceremony of circumcision, down to the pronunciation of the terminal syllable of the prseterite in our Church-service, down to the oyez shouted in a law-court to secure attention, down to the retention of epaulets for officers, and down to the Norman-French words in which the royal assent is given, this persistence is everywhere traceable. And when we find this persistence displayed through all ages in all departments of the regulative organization, — when we see it to be the natural accompaniment of the function of that organization, which is essentially restraining— when we estimate the future action of the organization in any case, by observing the general sweep of its curve throughout long periods of the past; we shall see how misleading may be the conclusions drawn from recent facts taken by themselves. Where the regulative organization is anywhere made to undertake additional functions, we shall not form sanguine anticipations on the strength of immediate results of the desired kind; but we shall suspect that after the phase of early activity has passed by, the plasticity of the new structure will rapidly diminish, the characteristic tendency towards rigidity will show itself, and in place of expansive effect there will come a restrictive effect.
The reader will now understand more clearly the meaning of the assertion that true conceptions of sociological changes are to be reached only by contemplating their slow genesis through centuries, and that basing inferences on results shown in short periods, is as illusory as would be judging of the Earth's curvature by observing whether we are walking up or down hill. After recognizing which truth he will perceive OBJECTIVE DIFFICULTIES. 1Q1 how great is another of the obstacles in the way of the Social Science.
" But does not all this prove too much? If it is so difficult to get sociological evidence that is not vitiated by the sub jective states of the witnesses, by their prejudices, enthusi asms, interests, &c. — if where there is impartial examination, the conditions to the inquiry are of themselves so apt to falsify the result — if there is so general a proneiiess to assert as facts observed what were really inferences from observations, and so great a tendency also to be blinded by exterior trivialities to interior essentials — if even where accurate data are accessi ble, their multitudiiiousiiess and diffusion in Space make it impracticable clearly to grasp them as wholes, while their un folding in Time is so slow that antecedents and consequents cannot be mentally represented in their true relations; is it not manifestly impossible that a Social Science can be framed? " It must be admitted that the array of objective difficulties thus brought together is formidable; and were it the aim of the Social Science to draw quite special and definite conclu sions, which must depend for their truth upon exact data ac curately co-ordinated, it would obviously have to be abandoned. But there are certain classes of general facts which remain after all errors in detail, however produced, have been allowed for. Whatever conflicts there may be among accounts of events that occurred during feudal ages, comparison of them brings out the incontestable truth that there was a Feudal System. By their implications, chronicles and laws indicate the traits of this system; and on piitting side by side narra tives and documents written, not to tell us about the Feudal System but for quite other purposes, we get tolerably clear ideas of these traits in their essentials — ideas made clearer still on collating the evidence furnished by different contemporary societies. Similarly throughout. By making due use not so much of that which past and present witnesses intend to tell us, as of that which they tell us by implication, it is possible to collect data for inductions respecting social structures and functions in their origin and development: the obstacles which arise in the disentangling of such data in the case of any particular society, being mostly surmountable by the help of the comparative method.
Nevertheless, the difficulties above enumerated must be ever present to us. Throughout, we have to depend on testi mony; and in every case we have to beware of the many modes in which evidence may be vitiated — have to estimate its worth when it has been discounted in various ways; and have to take care that our conclusions do not depend on any particular class of facts gathered from any particular place or time.
CHAPTER VI.
SUBJECTIVE DIFFICULTIES — INTELLECTUAL.
IF you watch the management of a child by a mother of small capacity, you may be struck by the inability she betrays to imagine the child's thoughts and feelings. Full of energy which he must expend in some way, and eager to see every thing, her little boy is every moment provoking her by his restlessness. The occasion is perhaps a railway journey. Now he strives to look out of the window; and now, when forbid den to do that, climbs on the seats, or meddles with the small luggage. " Sit still," " Get down, I tell you," " Why can't you be quiet? " are the commands and expostulations she utters from minute to minute — partly, no doubt, to prevent the dis comfort of fellow-passengers. But, as you will see at times when no such motive comes into play, she endeavours to re press these childish activities mainly out of regard for what she thinks propriety, and does it without any adequate recog nition of the penalties she inflicts. Though she herself lived through this phase of extreme curiosity — this early time when almost every object passed has the charm of novelty, and when the overflowing energies generate a painful irritation if pent up; yet now she cannot believe how keen is the desire for see ing which she balks, and how difficult is the maintenance of that quietude on which she insists. Conceiving her child's consciousness in terms of her own consciousness, and feeling how easy it is to sit still and not look out of the window, she ascribes his behaviour to mere perversity.
I recall this and kindred cases to the reader's mind, for the purpose of exemplifying a necessity and a difficulty. The ne cessity is that in dealing with other beings and interpreting their actions, we must represent their thoughts and feelings in terms of our own. The difficulty is that iu so representing them we can never be more than partially right, and are fre quently very wrong. The conception which any one frames of another's mind, is inevitably more or less after the pattern of his own mind — is automorphic; and in proportion as the mind of which he has to frame a conception dift'ers from his own, his automorphic interpretation is likely to be wide of the truth.
That measuring other person's actions by the standards our own thoughts and feelings furnish, often causes misconstruc tion, is a remark familiar even to the vulgar. But while among members of the same society, having natures nearly akin, it is seen that automorphic explanations are often er roneous, it is not seen with due clearness how much more erroneous such explanations commonly are, when the actions are those of men of another race, to whom the kinship in na ture is comparatively remote. We do, indeed, perceive this, if the interpretations are not our own; and if both the inter preters and the interpreted are mentally alien to us. When, as in early English literature, we find Greek history conceived in terms of feudal institutions, and the heroes of antiquity spoken of as princesses, knights, and squires, it becomes clear that the ideas concerning ancient civilization must have been utterly wrong. When we find Virgil named in religious stories of the middle ages as one among the prophets who vis ited the cradle of Christ — when an illustrated psalter gives scenes from the life of Christ in which there repeatedly figures a castle with a portcullis — when even the crucifixion is de scribed by Langland in the language of chivalry, so that the man who pierced Christ's side with a spear is considered as a knight who disgraced his knighthood * — when we read of the Crusaders calling themselves " vassals of Christ; " we need no further proof that by carrying their own sentiments and ideas to the interpretation of social arrangements and transac tions among the Jews, our ancestors were led into absurd mis conceptions. But we do not recognize the fact that in virtue of the same tendency, we are ever framing conceptions which, if not so grotesquely untrue, are yet very wide of the truth.
How difficult it is to imagine mental states remote from our own so correctly that we can understand how they issue in individual actions, and consequently in social actions, an instance will make manifest.
The feeling of vague wonder with which he received his first lessons in the Greek mythology, will most likely be dimly remembered by every reader. If not in words, still inarticulately, there passed through him the thought that faith in such stories was unaccountable. When, afterwards, he read in books of travels details of the amazing superstitions of savages, there was joined with a sense of the absurdity of these superstitions, much astonishment at their acceptance by any human beings, however ignorant or stupid. Such beliefs as that the people of a neighbouring tribe had descended from ducks, that rain fell when certain deities began to spit on the Earth, that the island lived upon had been pulled up from the bottom of the ocean by one of their gods, whose hook got fast when he was fishing — these, and countless beliefs equally laughable, seemed to imply an irrationality near to insanity.
He interpreted them automorphically — carrying with him not simply his own faculties developed to a stage of complexity considerably beyond that reached by the faculties of the sav age, but also the modes of thinking in which he was brought up, and the stock of information he had acquired. Probably it has never since occurred to him to do otherwise. Even if he now attempts to see things from the savage's point of view, he most likely fails entirely; and if he succeeds at all, it is but partially. Yet only by seeing things as the savage sees them can his ideas be understood, his behaviour accounted for, and the resulting social phenomena explained. These apparently-strange superstitions are quite natural — quite ra tional, in a certain sense, in their respective times and places. The laws of intellectual action are the same for civilized and uncivilized. The difference between civilized and uncivilized is in complexity of faculty and in amount of knowledge ac cumulated and generalized. Given, reflective powers devel oped only to that lower degree in which they are possessed by the aboriginal man — given, his small stock of ideas, collected in a narrow area of space, and not added to by records extend ing through time — given, his impulsive nature incapable of patient inquiry; and these seemingly-monstrous stories of his become in reality the most feasible explanations he can find of surrounding things. Yet even after concluding that this must be so, it is not easy to think from the savage's stand point, clearly enough to follow the effects of his ideas on his acts, through all the relations of life, social and other.
A parallel difficulty stands in the way of rightly conceiv ing character remote from our own, so as to see how it issues in conduct. We may best recognize our inability in this re spect, by observing the converse inability of other races to understand our characters, and the acts they prompt.
"Wonderful are the works of Allah! Behold! That Frank is trudging about when he can, if he pleases, sit still I " J In like manner Captain Speke tells us, — " If I walked up and down the same place to stretch my legs, they [Somali] formed councils of war on my motives, considering I must have some secret designs upon their country, or 1 would not do it, as no man in his senses could be guilty of working his legs unneces sarily." 3 But while, by instances like these, we are shown that our characters are in a large measure incomprehensible by races remote in nature from us, the correlative fact that we cannot rightly conceive their sentiments and motives is one perpetu ally overlooked in our sociological interpretations. Feeling, for instance, how natural it is to take an easier course in place of a more laborious course, and to adopt new methods that are proved to be better methods, we are puzzled on finding the Chinese stick to their dim paper-lamps, though they admire our bright argand-lamps, which they do not use if given to them; or on finding that the Hindus prefer their rough primi tive tools, after seeing how our improved tools do more work with less effort. And on descending to races yet more remote in civilization, we still oftener discover ourselves wrong when we suppose that under given conditions they will act as we should act.
Here, then, is a subjective difficulty of a serious kind. To understand any fact in social evolution, we have to see it as resulting from the joint actions of individuals having certain natures. We cannot so understand it without understanding their natures; and this, even by care and effort, we are able to do but very imperfectly. Our interpretations must be automorphic; and yet automorphism perpetually mis leads us.
One would hardly suppose, a priori, that untruthfulness would habitually co-exist with credulity. Rather our infer ence might be that, because of the tendency above enlarged upon, people most given to making false statements must be people most inclined to suspect statements made by others. Yet, somewhat anomalously, as it seems, habitual veracity generally goes with inclination to doubt evidence; and ex treme untrustworthiness of assertion often has for its con comitant, readiness to accept the greatest improbabilities on the slenderest testimony. If you compare savage with civilized, or compare the successive stages of civilization with one an other, you find untruthfulness and credulity decreasing to gether; until you reach the modern man of science, who is at once exact in his statements and critical respecting evidence. The converse relation to that seen in the man of science, is even now startlingly presented in the East, where greediness in swallowing fictions goes along with superfluous telling of falsehoods. An Egyptian prides himself in a clever lie, uttered perhaps without motive; and a dyer will even ascribe the failure in fixing one of his colours to the not having been successful in a deception. Yet so great is the readiness to be lieve improbabilities, that Mr. St. John, in his Two Years' Residence in a Levantine Family, narrates how, when the " Arabian Nights' Entertainments " was being read aloud, and when he hinted that the stories must not be accepted as true, there arose a strong protest against such scepticism: the ques tion being asked, — " Why should a man sit down and write so many lies? " * I point out this union of seemingly-inconsistent traits, not because of the direct bearing it has on the argument, but be cause of its indirect bearing. For I have here to dwell on the misleading effects of certain mental states which similarly appears unlikely to co-exist, and which yet do habitually co exist. I refer to the belief which, even while I write, I find repeated in the leading journal, that " the deeper a student of history goes, the more does he find man the same in all time; " and to the opposite belief embodied in current politics, that human nature may be readily altered. These two beliefs, •which ought to cancel one another but do not, originate two classes of errors in sociological speculation; and nothing like correct conclusions in Sociology can be drawn until they have been rejected and replaced by a belief which reconciles them — the belief that human nature is indefinitely modifiable, but that 110 modification of it can be brought about rapidly. We will glance at the errors to which each of these beliefs leads.
While it was held that the stars are fixed and that the hills are everlasting, there was a certain coiigruity in the notion that man continues unchanged from age to age; but now when we know that all stars arc in motion, and that there are no such things as everlasting hills — now when we find all things throughout the Universe to be in a ceaseless flux, it is time for this crude conception of human nature to disappear out of our social conceptions; or rather — it is time for its dis appearance to be followed by that of the many narrow notions respecting the past and the future of society, which have grown out of it, and which linger notwithstanding the loss of their root. For, avowedly by some and tacitly by others, it continues to be thought that the human heart is as " desper ately wicked " as it ever was, and that the state of society hereafter will be very much like the state of society now. If, when the evidence has been piled mass upon mass, there comes a reluctant admission that aboriginal man, of troglodyte or kindred habits, differed somewhat from man as he was dur ing feudal times, and that the customs and sentiments and beliefs he had in feudal times, imply a character appreciably unlike that which he has now — if, joined with this, there is a recognition of the truth that along with these changes in man there have gone still more conspicuous changes in society; there is, nevertheless, an ignoring of the implication that hereafter man and society will continue to change, until they have diverged as widely from their existing types as their'existiiig tvpes have diverged from those of the earliest recorded ages. It is true that among the more cultured the probability, or even the certainty, that such transformations will go on, may be granted; but the granting is but nominal — the adtaission does not become a factor in the conclusions drawn. The first discussion on a political or social topic, reveals the tacit assumption that, in times to come, society will have a struc ture substantially like its existing structure. If, for instance, the question of domestic service is raised, it mostly happens that its bearings are considered wholly in reference to those social arrangements which exist around us: only a few pro ceed on the supposition that these arrangements are probably but transitory. It is so throughout. Be the subject industrial organization, or class-relations, or rule by fashion, the thought which practically moulds the conclusions, if not the thought theoretically professed, is, that whatever changes they may undergo, our institutions will not cease to be recognizably the same. Even those who have, as they think, deliberately freed themselves from this perverting tendency — even M. Comte and his disciples, believing in an entire transformation of society, nevertheless betray an incomplete emancipation; for the ideal society expected by them, is one under regulation by a hier archy essentially akin to hierarchies such as mankind have known. So that everywhere sociological thinking is more or less impeded by the difficulty of bearing in mind that the social states towards which our race is being carried, are prob ably as little conceivable by us as our present social state was conceivable by a Norse pirate and his followers.
Note, now, the opposite difficulty, which appears to be sur mountable by scarcely any of our parties, political or philan thropic, — the difficulty of understanding that human nature, though indefinitely modifiable, can be modified but very slowly; and that all laws and institutions and appliances which count on getting from it, within a short time, much better results than present ones, will inevitably fail. If we glance over the programmes of societies, and sects, and schools of all kinds, from Rousseau's disciples in the French Con vention up to the members of the United Kingdom Alliance, from the adherents of the Ultramontane propaganda up to the enthusiastic advocates of an education exclusively secular, we find in them one common trait. They are all pervaded by the conviction, now definitely expressed and now taken as a self-evident truth, that there needs but this kind of in struction or that kind of discipline, this mode of repression or that system of culture, to bring society into a very much better state. Here we read that " it is necessary completely HO THE STUDY OF SOCIOLOGY.