The Part which the Soldier has Acted in the History of Man, The Philosophy of Socrates as Influencing the Subsequent Philosophy of Greece, 265 WHENEVER any body of men finds that a good portion of the talent which formerly aided in its quarrels has become unwieldly, and its ideas tarnished, there is generally some quiet proclamation of a new creed, and proposals to new supporters. This done, the heroes of the old strifes are wo-begone to find themselves stored among the nation's respectables, while a crowd, more pliant, and exponents of the remodeled ideas, are no less astounded to find themselves towering among the nation's notables. Before the wry face of this obsolete, and the wondering face of this nascent politician, the best of written comedy wants marrow; a richer mine for gems of the ludicrous no man has yet discovered, and that playwright will make fortune and fame, who shall prolong the laughter which agonizes the nation at these revolutions. But these faces in sorrowful and joyful anger give us some questions. What brings about these transitions? Talent which has worked on the men and measures of an age without being crippled by defeats, is, generally, for farther use, good enough, and safe enough, if it has not gained too long a succession of triumphs. A succession of defeats, of course, discourages its farther use. Triumphs identify the victor with the times of their occurrence. They tie him to his old policy, no matter how unsuited to new ideas. He is likely to worry his adherents by considering their interest in his old successes equal to their eagerness for his new ones, and more than this, we may infer from a thousand facts, that such elated party leaders too often remember the tricks and subtleties which aided in their victories, long after their memory refuses them a good portraiture of those nobler strokes which wrought out their glories. It is a grand thing to see men go on from triumph to triumph; but with us it seems the rule, to which exceptions are few, that one grand round of triumphs ends all of a statesman's course which is honorable or profitable. To gain the triumph, the statesman almost always forms such an alliance between casuistry and conscience as shall not soon be again available. He who is thus swollen into an embodiment of some hobby of to-day, is hardly likely so perfectly to embody the opposing hobby, which, in the natural course of things, will rule to-morrow. Whether the man in such an action avows himself a rascal, or saint, his changed covering must be gashed by the critics, and all the chances are that he falls under their stilettoes. But how stand these two elements with us at present? Collating in the progress of our leaders, great and small, what they have promised and not done, what they have done and not promised, and what they do in accordance with principles previously avowed, we have materials for a most extensive induction. Noting the examples thus obtained, we find, first, an older class of thinkers and workers, with which, so far as the thought of a nation can be ruled, has been the dynasty of rulers over the prevalent national opinions. This body, in its best examples, owes something to some superficial study of ancient polity—much more to careful readings of English models, and most of all to a steady use of its common sense, in gathering just such knowledge as avails it. Sedate, and wanting in perpetual brilliancy, it bears elements of power with which it will ever contest stoutly for the immunities of the grand directing body. One of these is the grasp which it has on those portions of our political history which those in training for official work most admire. Another is its general identity with the solid and respectable in diplomacy, another, the fact that it strikes quickly, for, in its constitution are principles, and discipline, and general tactics, well known at the commencement of a struggle by all its allies. On these accounts there are continual accessions to it from avowed adherents to the younger party, as well as from those who are making their first choice. The grand idea of this portion of the existing parties seems to be, that, in working out courses of political action their glory and emolument will come much more from grappling with the prosaic real, than toying with the plausible ideal. Their grand dread seems to be the coming of emergencies, when they must generalize hastily from scanty facts. Their grand study seems to be that of past disorders and remedies in the state, in order to prophesy, on the third principle which Compte recognizes, what shall be the law of the future. Turning to what may be called Young America, we find that its great motive, in appearance, is eagerness for a quick national development. But there is another element, equally powerful, though not so showy,—the principle that veneration for past triumphs should not exclude fresh talent, which may be available for future triumphs. This is not necessarily a selfish element. It influences many who profit nothing, if it gains the mastery. No more is it altogether supported by men who have a curiosity to see younger and keener intellects pitted against each other, for it rules many whose whole life shows them admirers of the aged and dignified, rather than the young and shrewd. Those also greatly mistake the characteristics of these parties, who recognize in the older form the conservatism, and in the younger the radicalism of the day. The younger party clings to many ideas hatefully conservative, which the former will drop at its first opportunity. Some old theories, and rallying cries, which the former have been striving for a century to bury decently, have been energized by the latter, and put forth as things vitally important. To lead among the former, one must often cling to the common place; to hold a primacy among the latter, some noted examples seem to warrant us in saying that stoutly to maintain some magnificently impudent lie, to make unbounded faith in national destiny atone for thievery, and to sneer at all common argument, is all that is needful. Take for instance a case where rights are withheld, and where the national dignity demands some excuse that it may keep a decently straight face before its neighbors. The former at once allow, as every reasonable man must allow, that the rights exist-that in time they may be asserted, but that at present they are overruled by expediency. The latter will probably laugh at your arguments, put some ridiculous misconstruction on your historical evidences, and overawe you by the supremely brazen position that these rights do not exist. This younger party is, to all appearances, liberal and flexible. Its reasoners seem to have fermenting in their minds as many kindly elements, as have any thinkers, yet there is among them a fondness for prompt and stern measures, which would argue that, like John Adams, a leader in an opposing school, they had gained from all ancient history the single truth, that the mortal defect in ancient constitutions was the incertitude of the sovereignty. The quarrels between these systems are worth notice. To see some bully of the new school, wriggling in the logical grip of the older thinker, to see his knaveries ooze from him in that merciless squeeze, is great gain to bystanders, if mirth goes for anything. So, too, when some meek old fop of the other school, elephantine in fooleries and bigotries, is badgered by young ene mies, until their stabs and stings make him declare his willingness to receive inklings of a new creed, and to renounce his schisms. In combining the various materials furnished for the public weal, the former seems more reliable; but to manage the combinations, the latter use an energy and tact which not unfrequently gives them the preference. The latter, in making these combinations, are often heedless, and sometimes wanton. Often they see, rising from their careless mixtures, political disasters, which scare them, as the Alchymist was scared, seeing the Afrite rising from his alembic. To us, neither of these systems seems hopeful. The world has seen their glitter often, and gained nothing worth keeping. There is complete heartlessness in either, though less perhaps in the older party. Both refuse at times to distinguish the cleric from the laic—the principle which evidently has a mission, from the principle which evidently has not. There is, in either, too great haste in the recognition of comfortable exceptions to the uncompromising rule, too great zeal in nourishing patriotism, and too little in nourishing justice, too much incense burnt before intriguing power and brawling power, too frequent blasphemies in setting aside the principle that truth cannot be gyved. W. Trout Fishing. BY SUI GENERIS. PERHAPS the reader never went a-trouting. Perhaps, also, he can fish better than the writer, who is, at best, "no great" of an angler. In either case, he would be pleased with the ground--a rough sort of a place, called Waterville, in New Hampshire-a place where there are no steam engines, but yet features of original grandeur and natural simplicity, that eclipse the passive beauty of artificial adornment. A better playground for an amateur geologist can hardly be imagined. From all sides of a little valley, steep mountains rise, like that "which might be touched," and adown them, and among them, dash and race a great many water-courses, which form a rushing, foaming stream, appropriately named Mad River. Huge bowlders dam up the channels, and the debris of the spring freshets present a continual chevaux de frise to the resolute sportsman. After leaping about for a few days over the |