Having, however, taken the crown and kingdom from Personality, our philosophical Warwick proceeds to the coronation of his favorite autocrat, Society.  His final proposition, which indeed is made obscurely, and as far as possible by implication, is this:—­

3. That Society is the Real Source of Individual Action.  A proposition made obscurely, but argued strenuously, and altogether necessary for the completion of his foundation.  He attempts proof by reference to the following facts:—­that in a given kingdom there occur, year after year, nearly the same number of murders, suicides, and letters mailed without direction, and that marriages are more frequent when food is low and wages high, and so conversely.  This is the sum total of the argument on which he relies here and throughout his work:  if this proves his point, it is proven; if otherwise, otherwise.

To begin with, I admit the facts alleged.  They are overstated; there is considerable departure from an exact average:  but let this pass.  I will go farther, and admit, what no one has attempted to show, that an average in these common and outward matters proves the like regularity in all that men do and think and feel.  This to concentrate attention upon the main question.

And the main question is, What do these regular averages signify?  Do they denote the dominancy of a social fate?  “Yea, yea,” cry loudly the French fatalists; and “Yea, yea,” respond with firm assurance Buckle & Co. in England; and “Yea,” there are many to say in our own land.  Even Mr. Emerson must summon his courage to confront “the terrible statistics of the French statisticians.”  But I live in the persuasion that these statistics are extremely innocent, and threaten no man’s liberty.  Let us see.

Take first the instance of forgetfulness.  In the United Kingdom some millions of letters are annually mailed; and of these, one in a certain number of thousands, “making allowance,” as our author innocently says, “for variation of circumstances,” is found to be mailed without a superscription.  Now provision for a forgetting is made in every man’s individual constitution.  Partly for permanent and final forgetting; in this way we get rid of vast quantities of trash, which would suffocate us, if we could not obtain riddance.  Partly also for temporary forgetting; by means of which we become oblivious to everything but the matter in hand, and, by a sole concentration upon that, act intensely and efficaciously.  Then, as all particular constitutions have their debilities, this provision for temporary obliviousness may become an infirmity, and in some is an habitual and chronic infirmity.