human life is their political significance. On
the broad scale, who is a better judge of their own
material condition and the modifications of it from
time to time, of what they receive and what they need
from political agencies, than the individual men who
gain or suffer by what is done, on so great a scale
that, combined, these men make the masses? Experience
is their touchstone, and it is an experience universally
diffused. Education, too, is a word that will
bear interpretation. It is not synonymous with
intelligence, for intelligence is native in men, and,
though increased by education, not conditioned upon
it. Intelligence, in the limited sphere in which
the unlearned man applies it, in the things he knows,
may be more powerful, more penetrating, comprehensive,
and quick, in him, than in the technically educated
man; for he is educated by things, and especially
in those matters which touch his own interests, widely
shared. The school of life embodies a compulsory
education that no man escapes. If politics, then,
be in the main a conflict of material interests broadly
affecting masses of men, the people, both individually
and as a body, may well be more competent to deal
with the matter in hand intelligently than those who,
though highly educated, are usually somewhat removed
from the pressure of things, and feel results and
also conditions, even widely prevalent, at a less
early stage and with less hardship, and at best in
very mild forms. Besides, to put it grossly,
it is often not brains that are required to diagnose
a political situation so much as stomachs. The
sphere of ideas, of reason and argument, in politics,
is really limited; in the main, politics is, as has
been said, the selfish struggle of material interests
in a vast and diversified State.
Common experience furnishes a basis of political fact,
well known to the people in their state of life, and
also a test of any general policy once put into operation.
The capacity of the people to judge the event in the
long run must be allowed. But does broad human
experience, however close and pressing, contain that
forecast of the future, that right choice of the means
of betterment, or even knowledge of the remedy itself,
which belong in the proper sphere of enlightened intelligence?
I am not well assured that it is not so. The
masses have been long in existence, and what affects
them is seldom novel; they are of the breed that through
“old experience do attain
To something like prophetic
strain.”
The sense of the people, learning from their fathers
and their mothers, sums up a vast amount of wisdom
in common life, and more surely than in others the
half-conscious tendencies of the times; for in them
these are vital rather than reflective, and go on
by the force of universal conditions, hopes, and energies.
In them, too, intelligence works in precisely the
same way as in other men, and in politics precisely
as in other parts of life. They listen to those