The Continental Monthly, Vol. III, No. V, May, 1863

So also in the solar system. The moons move around the planets; the planets around the sun; our group of suns around their magnetic axis, the milky way; yet each of these heavenly bodies rolls freely in its own orbit. In all these instances we have the great problem solved, of reconciling liberty with order, liberty of the individual parts with perfect order in the whole.

As far then as human governments imitate this divine method of organization seen in created objects, so far do they solve this problem in the sphere of political arrangements, making due allowance of course for the disturbing influence acting in man's own mental constitution, by reason of his fall from the innocence and holiness in which he was created. It is just because this divine and universal method has been unconsciously followed by the good and wise and immortal framers of the national Constitution, and also because the morality and intelligence of the people were adapted to this wise political structure, that the American nation has prospered as it has, and become the envy of the world.

Is it asked in what consists this resemblance? We reply that it is in the grouping of

Individuals into townships;

Of the townships into counties;

Of the counties into States;

Of the States into the national Union, with a central government.

The township acts in township affairs through its officers, who collectively compose its centre, and harmonize the actions of all the individuals of the township in all matters which concern that individual township. Through their officers, the people of the township act freely together within the lawful sphere of the township. The common wants of the township are attended to by the people through their officers, who compose the centre around which all township action revolves.

A number of townships, having common wants, are erected into a county. The county officers and county court form the harmonizing centre of this larger organization.

A number of counties, having common wants, are erected into a State, with a State government. This is the harmonizing centre, concentrating the efforts of as many counties, townships, and individuals as may be requisite to accomplish an object in any portion of the State, or in the whole of it. At ten days' notice by its Governor, Pennsylvania sent near one hundred thousand men into the field. Without political organization this could never have been effected. What a power is here exhibited, and yet all emanating directly from the people, without coercion of any kind, beyond respect for their own-made laws! The spectacle is truly grand.

Finally, the States altogether have common wants, which only a central, national government can supply. (Oh the deep wickedness or trebly intensified insanity of secession! Language fails to express the utter madness of the rebel leaders: the recklessness of a suicide is nothing in comparison; for here are eight millions of men intent upon their own destruction; fighting the North like fiends, because it would rescue them from themselves, and save both North and South from a common abyss of ruin!) The national government alone is strong at home and respected abroad. It alone can concentrate the energies and resources of thirty-four States, and of thirty-one millions of people, into any one or many modes of activity which the nation may judge best for its own interest. It is thus resistless. No single foreign power in the world nor any probable or possible alliance of foreign powers could hope to effect anything, with an army of three or four millions of soldiers that the entire republic could raise and keep in the field. Thus in union is our strength at home, for it gives the whole power and resources of the nation to works of common utility and necessity. Such are the maintenance of the army and navy, the building and support of forts, lighthouses, and customhouses, collection of the revenue, the keeping rivers and harbors navigable, the establishment of a general post office, and its countless ramifying branches, constructing immense public works, like the Pacific railroad, providing for extensive coast surveys, and the like. Then in a different department, harmonizing the action of States by national laws, by the Supreme Court, and by the national courts in each State, dispensing an even justice throughout the entire Union, by deciding appeals from State and county courts. Each State enjoys the benefits of these national functions, with the least possible cost to itself; and were there no national government, each State would have to provide itself with all these things, or what proportion of them it required, at a very heavy outlay of its own more limited resources, and would be obliged to double, perhaps quadruple its taxes. Each State requires the means of its own defence; and as they would all be independent sovereignties, each would be compelled, like the European nations, to keep its own standing army, and watch its neighbors closely, and be ready to bristle up on the least sign of aggression on their part. The soldiers of each standing army would be, as in Europe, so much power withdrawn from productive industry, kept in idleness, and supported by those who were left free to labor. Each State requires a postal system; those on the seaboard require tariffs, a navy, etc., and in the absence of a national government we can hardly form an idea of the endless disputes that would ensue from these and a thousand other sources. For this reason the old federation of the States was an experience of inexpressible value. It settled forever, in the minds of all communities who are governed by cool common sense and not mad passion, the utter impracticability (for efficient coöperation, and peaceful union) of a mere league or confederacy among sovereign and independent States. While the seven years' war of independence lasted, it managed to hold the States together; but when peace was restored the evils of the league were so glaring, and the dangers in the future so imminent, that the good sense of the people saved the young nation in time, by sheltering it under that broad, strong roof, the present national Constitution. Thus the individual States legislate and act for themselves in all that concerns themselves alone. But in that which concerns themselves in connection and in common with other States, and where, if each State were absolutely independent, such State action would come into conflict with the wants or rights of other States, and also be a great cost to the single State—all such common and general matters are accomplished with uniformity and harmony by all the States collectively through the general or central government.

But further.—This central government itself, like the nation which it serves, is a compound body; a unit composed of parts, each of which in its own sphere is independent, yet beyond that sphere is limited by the functions of the other parts. This government is a triple compound, and consists of the legislative, the judicial, and the executive departments.

The legislative, or Congress, declares the will of the nation.

The judicial or judging department decides and declares the proper ways and means, the how, the when, the persons and conditions, according to which this national will is to be carried out, and—the executive department is the arm and hand that does the carrying out; that performs by its proclamations and by its civil and military agents, what the Congress and judicial departments have willed and constitutionally decided shall be done.

Thus is perceived a beautiful analogy between these three departments acting separately and yet in concert—and the will, the intellect, and the bodily powers of the individual man. A man's will is very different and distinct from his intellect or reasoning faculty; and both will and intellect are widely distinct from the bodily powers. Not only are these three distinct and totally different elements in man's nature, but only in the degree that they remain distinct, and that they are duly balanced against each other, and that they all act in concert—only in this degree is the life of the individual self-poised, harmonious, and free.

And precisely the same is true of these three functions of government. It is essential to a free republican state that these functions should remain distinct, and administered by different bodies. When they are all merged into each other, and rested in a single individual or a single body of individuals, the government is then a despotism. The very essence of what we understand by despotism, is this massing, this fusing together of elements that can properly and justly live and act only when each is at liberty, in freedom to be itself, in order that it may perform its own, its peculiar and appropriate function, in harmonious connection with others performing theirs. Despotism is the binding, compressing, suffocating of individual life; first of the three functions of government, which should always be kept separate, and next, as a natural and inevitable consequence, of those who come under that solidified administration. The nation governed by a despotism must be moulded after the same pattern; it must necessarily have the variety and freedom of its many constituent parts destroyed, and be massed and melted together into a homogeneous and indiscriminate whole; only permeated in all directions by the channels conveying the will of the despotic head.

Thus the province of free government is not to be conceived of as that of restraining, repressing, punishing. This is only its negative function. Its positive office is the very opposite, and is truly a most exalted one. And this is, to remove every barrier to the freest outflow of human energies. It is to give an open field and the widest scope for the play of every human faculty consistent with right. Government does this, by establishing order among multitudes teeming with life and activity—each seeking, in his own way, the broadest vent for his God-given energies. These human energies are given to men for the very purpose that they may flow forth in a thousand modes of activity and industry, and that, thus, men may mutually impart an exalted happiness upon each other. These energies are to be repressed only when they are wrong, when they take a wrong direction, when they conflict with the welfare of the community. When these energies, these human impulses to act, are right, when they aim at useful results, then they must have every facility, every possible channel opened to their outflow. And the very first and most essential condition of this free outflow of life among multitudes is, that there be order among them—that there be some system, some methodical arrangement whereby concert and unity of action may be effected among this diversified life. Without this order —without systems or common methods of action in the thousand affairs which concern every community, it is evident that there must be disorder, confusion, and clashing. The activity of each individual, and of each class of individuals, will come into collision, and be repressed by the like activity of others. It is utterly impossible, in a community where there is no order, no mutually understood arrangement of relations, duties, and pursuits; in other words, where there is no government; it is impossible, under such conditions, for individuals, if even of the best intentions, to live and do as they wish. For many wills must come into conflict, unless they can be harmonized, unless they have a mutual understanding and consent among each other that there shall be common and well-defined methods of procedure, under the countless circumstances in which men must act together, or not act at all.

Now, it is the true function of government to establish, these common or general modes of procedure, termed laws, among masses, and to punish departures from them. Government is thus the great social harmonizer of these otherwise necessarily conflicting and mutually interfering human energies.

Government coördinates, harmonizes, concentrates the efforts of multitudes. It does this by establishing and maintaining order, an orderly arrangement of human activities—arrangements, methods of procedure, which are adapted to the wants of the community, and into which men's activities flow freely and spontaneously, and without compulsion (except in the case of violators of law), because of their adaptation to the public wants.

But now, what constitutes order? What is its essential nature?

The answer is, that order is the harmonious relation of parts in a whole; and parts can have no orderly, that is, symmetrical and harmonious, relation to each other, except through their relation to a common centre.

Order is the subordination of things, of things lower to something that is higher; and subordination is the ordination or ordering of parts under something that is above—something to which the rest must conform, that is, must form themselves or be formed with it, in harmony with it, if order is to result.

This something is thus, of course, that which is central—the chief element in the group; that which is the most prominent feature, and which gives character to all subordinate parts.

It is thus clearly evident that the very essence of government, of order, of harmony, of subordination, is the grouping of individual parts around centres; of these compound units as larger individuals, around some higher centre again, and so on, until a limit is prescribed by the very nature of the thing thus organized into an ascending series of compounds.

This method of grouping and organizing parts into wholes, is, as we have already seen, the divine method; and, of course, being such, as has also been said, it is seen in every created object—in minerals, plants, animals, and in the systems of suns and planets.

It is the method of man's bodily organization, and much more, if possible, is it the method of his mental organization. Man's mind consists of powers of affection and thought. His affections, loves, desires, or whatever they may be termed, all group themselves around some leading motive, some ruling passion, which is central for a part or the whole of a lifetime. All minor motives and ends of action are subordinate, and only subservient as a means to satisfy the central, dominant passion. They revolve around it, like satellites around their primary, or like planets around their sun.

His thoughts, likewise—the method of his intellectual operations, obey the same law. In every subject which he investigates, he marshals a multitude of facts around central principles or conclusions. He shuts them up under a general, chief, leading fact or law. A number of conclusions, again, are marshalled around one still more general and comprehensive, and thus he mounts up into the highest and most universal principles. All the knowledge stored away in his mind is thus organized, almost without his consciousness, into groups of lower and higher facts and details, ranged under or around their central principles.

The closer and more symmetrical is this grouping of particulars and generals in the intellect, or, rather, the greater the power thus to arrange them, the more logical and compactly reasoning is that mind. The looser and less connected is this grouping, the less logical is the mind; and when the proper connection fails to be made between particulars and generals, between facts and their principles, or between parts and their centre, then the mind is in an idiotic or insane condition.

Now, man's mental movements, being thus themselves obedient to this great order-evolving method, then, of course, when he applies his faculties to investigate the objects and phenomena of the outer world, he classifies, arranges, and disposes them strictly after the same method, because he cannot help doing so. The naturalist studies minerals, plants, animals—and each kingdom, at his bidding, marshals itself into order before him. Each resolves its otherwise confused hosts into groups and series of groups, each with its own centre and leading type. The animal kingdom has its sub-kingdoms, classes, orders, families, and species. Botanists speak of divisions, classes, orders, genera, and species, &c., species being the first assemblage of individuals.

It is, therefore, seen that, by the very necessity of the case, when men themselves are to be massed into communities and nations, they come inevitably under the same universal method of organization. Whether the government be free, or whether it be despotic, it must, in either case, be organized, and organized according to this universal method. It must consist of parts with their centres, compounded into wholes, and of these compound units formed into still larger ones; until the entire nation, as a grand whole, revolves upon a central pivot, or national government.

But here there presents itself a vast distinction between despotic and free governments—a distinction which arises out of the different relations sustained, in these respective modes of administration, between the government and the people—between the centre and the subordinate parts. What is this difference?

If we look around through nature, we shall find that all organized beings, that is, beings composed of different parts or organs, all aiding, in their several ways, to the performance of a common function, or a number of harmonized functions—in such an organized structure, whether it be a plant, an animal, the human body, or even the globe itself, we shall find two reciprocal movements—one from the centre, outward, and another from without, inward, or toward the centre; and further, that the integrity of the life of the individual depends upon the harmonious relation or balance between these two opposite movements.

The individual man, for instance, is a centre of active energies that are ever radiating from himself toward men and things around him; and he receives from them, in return, countless impressions and various materials for supporting his own life. What is thus true of the man himself, is also true of the organs and systems of organs of which his body is composed. The nervous system exhibits nerves with double strands; one set (the motor fibres) conveying nervous force from the centre as motor power to the limbs; the other, conveying sensations to the centre, from without.

The heart, again, the centre of the circulating system, sends forth its crimson tide to the farthest circumference, and receives it back as venous blood—to send it forth afresh when purified in the lungs.

The plant has its ascending and descending sap; it drinks in the air and sunshine, and gives these forth again in fragrance and fruit. The very globe receives its life from the sun—and radiates back, forces into space.

Human governments—human political and social organizations, are no exceptions to this general law. Every government, even the most despotic, while it rules a nation with a rod of iron, depends for its life upon the people whom it oppresses. While the central head radiates its despotic will through its pliant subordinates, down through all ranks and classes of the community, it receives from them the means of its own preservation.

A free government likewise radiates authority from the central head, and also depends for its life on the people whom it governs. What is the point of difference between them?

It is simply this:

There are two elements of power in a nation.

One is moral, viz., the free-will and consent of the people.

The other is physical, viz., military service, and revenue from taxation.

The free consent of the people is the soul of the national strength.

The treasure and the armies which they furnish, constitute the body.

For the highest efficiency, soul and body must act as one, whether in the individual or in the collective man. They must not be separated. Hence the perfect right of men who would be free to refuse to be taxed by government without being represented—without having a voice in its management. The material support must not be given without the moral—that is one form of slavery.

But of these two elements of national strength, a despotism, a government of force, possesses and commands only the physical or material, viz., military service and revenue. It controls only the body of the national powers. Not resting upon the broad basis of the free choice and consent of the people, it is like a master who can force the body of another to do his bidding, while the spirit is in concealed rebellion. Such a government, in proportion as it severs this national soul from the body, is weak through constant liability to overthrow, from any chance failure of its material props.

A free government, on the other hand, possesses both the elements of strength. It rests upon the free will and affection of the people, as well as upon the abundant material support which they must ever yield to a government of their own creation, and which exists solely for their own use and benefit. Such a government is capable and strong in exact proportion to the virtue and intelligence of the masses from whom it emanates.

Thus it is seen that a despotism differs from a free government as to the reciprocal action that takes place between the people and the government. In a despotism, all authority flows only in one direction, viz., from the central head down to the different ranks of subordinate officers, and through these numerous channels it reaches all classes of the people. But there is no returning stream of authority from the people to the government, from the parts to the centre. The only return flow is that of military service and revenue.

But a free government returns to the people all that it receives from them. From the masses there converges, through a thousand channels, to the central government, both the elements of national strength, viz., authority to act, and the means of carrying out this authority, that is, money and military service—the body, of which the popular will and authority is the soul. The people declare their will that such and such individuals shall be clothed with, and represent their united power, and act for them in this representative capacity. The persons thus chosen, and who constitute the government or central head, with its subordinate agencies, declare from this central position of authority with which they have been invested by the people, that such and such things are necessary for the welfare and orderly activity of the people, and in the name, and with the coöperation of the people, they will to carry these measures out.

Thus life, energy, power, from the people, flow from all points to the government, to the centre; and from the government it flows back again to the people as order, as the force that arranges, methodizes, harmonizes, and regulates the outflow of the popular energies in all the departments of human activity. It clears the channels of national industry of all obstacles. By its legislative, judicial, and executive functions, it establishes, on the one hand, common methods of action among multitudes having common interests and aims, and thus obviates clashing and confusion; and, on the other, it punishes those who would interfere with and obstruct or destroy this order.

The government is the concentrated will and intelligence of the people, directed to the wise guidance of the national life—directed to the harmonizing of the diversified activity and industry of the nation, to the opening of all possible channels for that activity, and to the removal of everything that would obstruct and counteract the nation's utmost development and progress.

In this way, a free government exhibits, as far as human imperfection admits, the union of the two great principles, liberty and order. The people are free to think, talk, write, and act as they see fit; but since there can be no liberty, but only license, or lawlessness, without order—without beneficent methods, symmetrical forms and arrangements, in which that liberty can be enjoyed by individuals and communities, without conflicting with other individuals and communities, parts of the same free whole—therefore government is created by the people to prescribe and maintain this order, essential to this common liberty; an order which is the form, or forms, under which both individuals and communities shall act, singly or in concert, in the countless relations in which the members of the same community or nation come into contact with each other.