OF

POPULAR

LITERATURE

No. 216.

AMATEUR POLITICIANS. 'FISH swim best that are bred in the sea,' says the proverb. The truth of this saying, modern usage every day exemplifies in some new manner. Every day the division of occupations existing the day before is supplemented by a more minute and marked subdivision; every day some new branch of science, or skill, or industry, is separated from the kindred department of which it has hitherto formed an indistinguishable portion, and is made the separate heritage of a special class. Every age creates some new craft, whose only function it is to relieve society of some task that was formerly the charge of all its members indiscriminately, until the progress of civilisation promises to reduce a highly organised community to a condition not unlike that of an Indian household. A European paterfamilias in Hindostan finds that the servant who airs his shirt will not brush his coat, and that the boy who blacks his shoes will not condescend to bring them to his door. The same, on a grand scale, is the industrial condition of a people in a high state of civilisation. The man who prescribes for your ailments will not compound the medicine that is to cure them; the lawyer who pleads your cause in court does not draw up your will, or even make out the brief on which he is to argue; the manufacture of each component part of your winter waistcoat -lining, buttons, cloth, &c.-forms a separate trade, involving some ten or twenty different varieties of occupation; nor is the labourer in any one of these diverse tasks able to make a coat for himself, much less for you. The same arrangements pervade the whole frame of society. One thing-nay, one of the smallest fractions into which one thing can be divided -is esteemed enough for one man to know and to do. His whole energies are spent in doing this fraction; his whole mind is devoted to apprehending this fraction; his whole duty is summed up in mastering the performance of this fraction; and wo betide him if he presume even by a hairbreadth to deviate from the strict limits of this fractional task. 'Let not the shoemaker go beyond his last,' is a maxim born of this caste-kind of civilisation; and expresses accurately enough the feelings of the man whose whole life is consumed on the performance of his fractional work towards all who would step from their own small circle to encroach on his-the feeling of professional men towards an amateur.

In former times, almost all men were amateurs in almost all occupations. The farmer was an amateur butcher; the farmer's wife and daughters were amateur labourers at the spinning-wheel and the loom. The

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clergyman, whose professional duty was limited to the cure of souls, undertook en amateur the functions of physician to the bodies of his flock. Certainly things were not so well or so cheaply done in those days; linen was more expensive, and men's bodies did not always thrive under the care of their spiritual pastors. But to those who thus varied their occupations, the pleasure of variety might atone in no small degree for the difficulties and embarrassments which resulted from their lack of professional lore to aid their labours of love.' Society has gained much in establishing distinction of professions; but the amateurs have undoubtedly been sufferers by the change.

Of all professions, the political is perhaps the most recent growth of our highly civilised soil; and, accordingly, there is no profession whose outskirts are so closely beset by a crowd of amateurs. Of course these are treated with becoming professional scorn by those who have been regularly admitted into the mysteries of this exalted guild. But society at large has not yet pronounced itself on behalf of the professionals. Amateurs in law, in medicine, or in military matters, are not very much respected; and the ridicule cast upon them by those on whose special province they encroach is usually endorsed by the general public. The necessity of an apprenticeship is recognised in physic, in arms, in jurisprudence; but in the belief of many, politicians, as Byron says of critics, are all ready made. How far this idea is correct, an inquiry into the more remarkable classes of ready-made statesmen, and the peculiar characteristics of each, may perhaps enable us to form some opinion.

It would be a great injustice to class among amateur politicians all those who, without devoting themselves to political pursuits, take a warm interest in all the great questions of the day, and on occasion exert themselves strenuously on behalf of a valuable measure or a favourite statesman. The Athenian legislator of old is said to have made it a punishable offence in any citizen to abstain from politics altogether; and he probably judged wisely. Where a free government exists, there can be no other security against maladministration on the one hand, and anarchy on the other, than the existence of strong political convictions among the educated portion of the people. Where these are wanting, either corruption places arbitrary power in the hands of the statesman by profession, or agitation leaves the government at the mercy of the demagogue-the very worst species of political amateur. There is no scene more honourable to the British character than that of a well-contested election in one of the great constituencies, at once too numerous to admit of corruption or intimidation, and

too intelligent and educated to present such a spectacle of licence and disorder as too frequently disgraces the performance of a great national duty. The leading men of the district-gentlemen well known to the vast crowds there assembled for their wealth, their public spirit, and their high personal character-take active part on one side or another, and strain their powers to the utmost to insure the return of their candidate. The crowd which fills the streets, blockades the polling-booth, or sways to and fro in front of the hustings, is likewise in hearty downright earnest in its way; and every man present exerts his lungs, when the turn of his party comes to shout for the yellow or the blue, with as much vigour and resolution as if the fate of the nation depended upon that single yell. For a week or so, politics form the staple of conversation in every reading-room or tavern parlour; in the rich man's drawing-room, and in the poor man's kitchen. But are these amateur politicians? Not they; by the time the battle is well over, and the song of triumph sung by the local organ of the victorious party, they have all had their fill of political topics; and they return with additional zest to their daily labours, and the everyday routine of their lives, satisfied to leave the country in the hands of the member they have chosen, and the minister whom he supports, until the next occurrence which may necessitate a repetition of the popular excitement.

It is not in such scenes as these that the amateur politician most shines. There is in them too much good-will and good-humour, and withal too much general earnestness on all sides, and the atmosphere is not well suited to him. Moreover, he is not only swamped by the flood of men as well qualified as himself, and for the nonce as decided in their own opinion, but he runs no little risk of being summarily overborne and put down by collision with better informed and better disciplined minds. He shines more brightly by contrast, when the political horizon is devoid of any star of more than fourth-rate magnitude, and when he has the field to himself. He is then the bore of the club, or the oracle of the tap-room, and scintillates without fear of an eclipse. Few listen to him, and those who do are not men competent to refute him. He can enlighten a circle of admiring disciples on the fearful evils of diplomacy, and convert the Foreign Office into a very Castle of Otranto before their bewildered vision; and no one cares to dissolve the spell by one magical word of common sense. Or he can denounce to a sympathising audience the crimes of capital, and the cold-blooded cruelty of political economists; and no one will arise to expose him before the men whom he is so mischievously deluding. He is now in his glory, such as it is; and few care to disturb it.

Of all classes of political quacks, none is so noxious as the man who is great upon social questions. Here a subject is started which can hardly fail to interest any audience, especially of the working-classes: an audience is readily obtained, disposed to listen with favour to all arguments which shall shew that all the afflictions which too frequently beset their path in life, are the result of political oppression or social injustice, and may be remedied by some summary process, which the orator is generally wise enough to leave to the imagination. There is no subject of general interest on which a denser ignorance prevails, even among men who have had greater educational advantages, than obtains in regard to the truths of political economy. While the man who should endeavour to teach his hearers that the sun goes round the earth, or that the globe rests on the back of an elephant, would be forthwith laughed at by the most ignorant audience in any large town, numbers of men who ought to know better, will applaud the empiric who boldly denies or audaciously ignores the

first principles of economical science. The mischief which is thus wrought is very serious. Such doctrines tend to produce an impression among the workingclass, that all their troubles are owing to the folly or wickedness of those above them. They are persuaded that all the embarrassments which are shewn by the economist to be the inevitable result of natural laws, have their origin in unjust or defective social arrangements; and they are thus seduced from the only means of bettering their condition-reliance on their own prudence and their own exertions-and led to seek relief in efforts which can by no possibility succeed, and whose success could only land them in a confusion worse confounded. If no other harm were done than the excitement of a discontented feeling, and an idea of wrong received from capitalists, or landowners, or statesmen, or any and every one better off than themselves, the evil would be sufficiently grave to affix a terrible responsibility on the delusive and ignorant teacher. A man who will talk on what he does not understand, may always hope to do mischief. An empiric of any kind is a public enemy; but none is more dangerous than these quack-doctors of the social body, who persist in talking without knowledge on a subject of keen interest and vital importance, and who do their utmost to prejudice the sufferers against the only men who have studied the science of social medicine, and can explain the real causes and remedies of social ills.

Less mischievous by far, yet not without his own especial capacity for doing harm, is the political amateur who has made the foreign relations of the kingdom his especial study. He is well read in bluebooks, and appears to have the whole history, known and unknown, of every diplomatic transaction for the past thirty years at his finger-ends. His conversation on these topics, however, is strikingly illustrative of the poet's saying:

Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one,
Have ofttimes no connection.

For lack of the sense and judgment which are requisite to enable men to turn even the most accurate knowledge to account, talkers and writers of this school commit themselves to theories so grossly absurd, and to statements so ludicrously impossible, that they never obtain credit among sensible men, even for the amount of information they really possess. No supposition is too improbable for their adoption; no folly too preposterous to find credit and acceptance among them. Were their minds somewhat better endowed with that invaluable faculty of critical intuition which is denominated 'common sense,' they might acquire wide influence, and a numerous following. The subject of their study is one peculiarly interesting to all who take any interest whatever in political affairs as such; and the events of the last ten years have rendered continental politics much more familiar to the public of these islands than was formerly the case. But no amount of reading, no stock of quotations from blue-books, however ample, will persuade the cautious Scot or the downright Englishman of the truth of statements so utterly repugnant to common sense, so wildly disregardful of probability, as those put forth by the most notorious leaders of this school. The effect of their speculations and declamation has been to bring the study of foreign politics into contempt among the middle and lower classes, and to induce a neglect of matters which, from their bearing upon the national honour and the national interest, are deserving of careful attention from all who have sufficient leisure to study, and sufficient education to appreciate them. The ultimate effect of quackery, in any branch of knowledge, is and must be to discourage the study of the subject among the general public, and to tighten the grasp of professional men upon the

reins of power; their authority being always enhanced, even to an undue degree, by the humiliating failure of their pretentious rivals.

There are probably as many distinct classes and schools of political empiricism as of scientific quackery, each with its specific panacea for all national misfortunes or social grievances. On the one hand is a 'financial reformer,' who prophesies the speedy cure of all evils by the issue of an unlimited amount of inconvertible paper. On the other part, a statesman of the same stamp, but of opinions exactly opposite, advocates a return to a merely metallic circulation as the only basis of commercial prosperity. Here is a philanthropist, loud in his denunciations of all who venture to question the soundness of his views, demanding from government measures which are to relieve some peculiarly distressed class of operatives, whose distress is probably owing to the fact, that thirty thousand workmen have embarked in a trade which can furnish work only for twenty thousand. It is needless to multiply examples. There are certain principal features common to all these empirics, by which they may be detected; certain qualities belonging to the whole genus, which indicate clearly enough the value to be attached to their opinions. Of these, the most marked and most universal is their extraordinary confidence. A sound and experienced statesman is generally one of the most cautious of men. Knowing well how numerous are the conditions which have to be fulfilled in every possible measure for the relief of any suffering, or the redress of any grievance-how various and how complicated the circumstances which have to be taken into account, in seeking a satisfactory solution of any political question -he advances his views only after careful inquiry, and speaks always with guarded accuracy and studied moderation of the probable effects of his every proposition. The empiric has none of this caution. He has neither the experience which shews that practical difficulties often exist where, to the eye of theory, all is smooth and clear, nor the clearness of vision which can perceive the remote consequences which wisdom would foresee even where experience is defective. This confidence is principally the result of the ignorance which is another distinguishing mark of empiricism. Even the study of blue-books does not always render a man well acquainted with the political history of his own time. Blue-books and newspapers never reveal more than the surface of affairs. The causes of each event therein recorded; the motives with which each dispatch has been written; the difficulties with which statesmen have had to contend in the cabinet or in the closet; the differences which have led to the abandonment of an announced intention, or the emasculation of an important measure-all, in fact, that has passed behind the scenes-is, and remains for years, unknown to the public. Statesmen have to submit for years, perhaps for life, to suffer bitter taunts and wide-spread unpopularity for errors which, if the whole story of the case were known, it would be seen that they could by no possibility have avoided. They know the tools they have to work with, and the sunken rocks of which they must keep clear: those who criticise from without, judge men and events as if the machinery were perfect, and the course as clear as it seems to be. The amateur sees only the surface, and often only a fraction of that; and there is therefore reason to suspect, in every instance, that he is ignorant precisely of the most important part of the case upon which he undertakes to advise. His ignorance produces impatience. Where he is conscious of it, he is angry with all who endeavour, by the light of a clearer knowledge, to disprove his favourite crotchets. Where he honestly believes himself to have thoroughly mastered his subject, he is wroth with the slowness of those who refuse to adopt advice which seems to him so obviously and incontestably correct. Besides

the impatience which he has learned from empiricism, there is not unfrequently the impatience that has made him an empiric. He was too eager and too irritable to work his way slowly to sound knowledge; so he preferred the shorter path of hasty assumption and unfounded theory. In no respect is this impatience more universally shewn than in the disregard which writers and talkers of this class ostentatiously profess for the teachings of political economy. To attempt any social reform, while in ignorance of the rudiments of this science, is not less absurd than for one wholly unacquainted with mechanical science to undertake to improve the machinery of some large factory. Yet, of professed social reformers, how few have the veriest smattering of a knowledge without which all their efforts are but too likely to prove not only vain, but even mischievous!

To those who are desirous to render themselves really competent to understand political affairs, and to form their own opinions on topics of national interest, a certain preparatory discipline, as in all other branches of human knowledge, is absolutely necessary. Without a knowledge of political economy-which is the science of social organisation-a sound judgment on social or political topics cannot be formed; and without a careful study of history, the materials by which alone a competent acquaintance with the nature and the principles of government can be obtained, are wanting. But the man who has mastered these two most valuable and most interesting subjects of inquiry, needs only a clear head and cool judgment to render him competent to form an opinion upon all political affairs sufficiently correct to render him a useful citizen and an intelligent political critic. To become more than this-to be capable of high statesmanship, or to master the details of political knowledge in all its branches, would require a special study, for which few but professional politicians have time or inclination. But this much at least is within the reach of every sensible and educated man; and without a selftraining of this kind, no man can be morally justified in undertaking the duties of a political teacher, even in the humblest sphere. Were such a discipline common among those classes who take an interest in politics, their political influence would be far greater and far more beneficial than at present; while the general diffusion of this elementary political training would render the task of the agitator well-nigh hopeless, and reduce the empirical politicians, above described, to their native and natural insignificance.

MUDBURY BOTTOM. My friend, Mr Robert Jones, from the metropolis, at present on a visit to me in Blankshire, was exceedingly desirous of seeing a coursing meeting, so I took him with pleasure to that of Mudbury. We are not above four miles from Mudbury over the Downs, and Jones at first declared that he would much rather walk than ride.

'I am not much used to riding,' he confessed frankly, and I saw your gray standing upon his fore-legs-I mean his two fore-legs-in the straw-yard this morning, from my window as I was shaving.'

'Well, Bob, you shall have the bay, then,' said I laughing.

"The bay was himself upon his two hind-legs,' returned my guest; and I would as soon think of riding a rocking-horse as either of these animals.'

However, when I shewed Robert my steady old four-wheeler, Seaman, who is as little disposed for gamboling, and not much less in bulk than a rhinoceros, he thought he might venture out upon that in safety, and thereon accordingly he rode.

Our Downs delighted him hugely, as indeed they delight all strangers, with their long green undulations