Let us now assume an individual man, and suppose ourselves able to analyze perfectly his mental condition.  From his temperament, constitution, and habit, we shall then be able also to infer with precision the measure of his liability to lapse of memory.  Place him, now, in a world by himself; give him a life of several centuries’ duration; and secure him through life from essential change of constitution.  Divide, then, his life into centuries; count the instances of forgetfulness in each century; and in each century they will be found nearly the same.  The Law of Probability determines this, and enables us to speak with entire confidence of a case so supposed.  Here, then, is the continuous average; but it surely indicates no subjection of the individual soul to a law of society; for there is no society to impose such law,—­there is only the constitution of the individual.

Now, instead of one individual, let us suppose a hundred; and let each of these be placed on a separate planet.  Obtain in respect to each one the measure of his liability to infirm lapse of memory, and add these together.  And now it will appear that the average outward result which one man gave in one hundred years one hundred men will give in one year.  The law of probability again comes in, and, matching the irregularities of one by those of another, gives in this case, as in the former, an average result.  Here, then, is Mr. Buckle’s average without the existence of a society, and therefore without any action of social law.  Does another syllable need to be said?

Perhaps, however, it will be objected that I redeem the individual from a fate working in the general whole of society, only to subject him to an equal fate working in his own constitution.  There is undoubtedly a certain degree of fate expressed in each man’s temperament and particular organization.  But mark the difference.  Mr. Buckle’s social fate subjects each man totally, and in effect robs him of personality; the fate which works in his own constitution subjects him only in that proportion which his abnormal liability bears to the total force of his mind.  One letter in ten thousand, say, is mailed without direction.  Our historian of civilization infers hence that each individual is totally subject to a social fate.  My inference is, that, on the average, each individual is one ten-thousandth part subject to a fate in his private constitution.  There is the difference, and it does not seem to me insignificant.  Our way to the cases of crime is now somewhat more clear; for it is already established beyond cavil that the mere fact of an average, to which, without any discriminations, our philosopher appeals with such confidence, proves nothing for his purpose.