much; and therefore printing and publishing would have to remain under private enterprise, however regulated.

Mill's main objection alike to Communism and to Socialism in all its forms, is that under either there would be no asylum left for individuality of character. He fears that public opinion would be a tyrannical yoke; and doubts "whether the absolute dependence of each on all and surveillance of each by all would not grind all down into a tame uniformity of thoughts, feelings, and actions." This he thinks is a glaring evil at present; the question is, would it not almost certainly be increased under Socialism, when all would receive the same general education and be subject to the same common influences. We should all thus cast in the same monotonous moulds, become as like as sheep in a flock. No more variety in talent and taste, in aspiration, in general character. The present interesting and various contact with people having different outlooks on things, the delightful exchange of ideas and points of view, the mutual supplementing and stimulating would be gone, every one would think the same thing as every other, and in every one we should find only our own echo. Conversation would lose all its charm, we should never escape from our own insufficient and intolerable selves, and society, which already suffers from the disease of uniformity, and the "general average," would become utterly weary, flat, and unprofitable.

Such-not exaggerated-is Mill's objection or apprehension as to Socialism and Communism.'

1 See "Pol. Economy," Bk. II. ch. I. § 3.

N

He is

evidently deeply impressed with it; and in fact there is much in it. I think, however, that Mill exaggerates the danger from this side, though it is real. There is no doubt that if we framed our conception of the Socialist State from More's Utopia, from existing communities, or even from the Fourierist scheme, there would be reason to dread the want of diversity of type, and even want of originality of thought, feeling, and character. Certain considerations, however, not dwelt on by Mill would remove some of the weight of the objection under a reasonable form of Collectivism, supposed otherwise practicable; one such consideration being the increasing variety of life owing to evolution, social, industrial, and even intellectual. Life gives increasing play in all directions to the division and specialization of work, and this very fact must prevent, under any possible Socialism, the dreaded uniformity and monotony of life and character, and must result, as a condition of its existence, in that diversity of talent and taste which Mill fears would be crushed. It can hardly be doubted that under any Socialism that is at all possible, there would be men of science, men of letters and artists, as well as inventors, engineers, captains of industhy, if not captains of war, and the whole hierarchy of labourers of all kinds. It is not to be doubted that the men of science would cultivate different provinces, that the cultivators of each branch would not be all equal in intellect, and that occasionally a Lyell or a Darwin might appear; there is not much danger that poets, historians, critics, essayists, novel writers would not be allowed in the Socialist

State in whatever way they might get their wages, or in whatever way the best might be selected, and these men of letters will differ in degree as well as in kind. A genius might be expected now and then to appear, and short of that there would always be some higher than others. The best would be numerous, and if the select in the different intellectual provinces should meet in some future Academy, they would still form good company, and it would not be for want of variety of outlook on life and the universe if they bore each other. The real danger is not that there would be little variety in taste and talents, but that the generality in the same sphere would be too like each other, and that there would be a sort of Chinese equality of intellect with little or no originality, and with, as a consequence, an arrest of development or diminished progress.

On the other hand, it must be remembered that under all schemes of Socialism, except Anarchism, the generality would receive a higher education than now, that all promise at least greater leisure than now for the generality, who consequently would most probably take greater pleasure in mental things, in literature, science, and art. And as this general light and culture would be wider and deeper, it would awaken and ripen the seeds of genius which now never get an opportunity; it is therefore highly probable that originality would, on the whole, be greatly increased. Certain it is that new veins of originality and genius would be struck in the virgin soil of the hitherto uncultivated minds of the mass which would yield rich results. That this is no fancy

deduction but all but certain theory, is confirmed when we remember the amount of genius that has burst upwards in spite of lack of culture and a forbidden tree of knowledge. It is difficult, indeed, to keep the highest order of genius back in certain provinces, such as the fine arts or the inventive arts, especially where, as in the former, to do so has always dimly been felt as a crime against humanity, or as in the latter where it is obviously useful, and consequently in the fine arts especially, a Burns, a Beethoven, supreme and original geniuses, will mostly find some expression for their genius. But how miserable even their conditions have mostly been, how incomplete their utterance generally, and how many only less than they have not spoken! How many have even been wholly repressed, who might have excelled in science, philosophy, scholarship, literature (other than poetry), where full development of faculty postulates a certain degree of previous culture. It is of the successful few of such as these that Heine speaks when instancing the case of Lessing; he says, "The greater portion of their life was spent in poverty and misery--a curse which rests on almost all the great minds of Germany, and which probably will only be overcome by the political emancipation." And most certainly under such a revolution as Socialism, many more of such superior spirits would find an opportunity. We have spoken chiefly of art, invention, and literature in the widest sense, including the use of words by speakers as well as writers; it has been in these that the geniuses of the people have hitherto had any opportunity; in arms, politics or administra

tion they had no opportunity of proving superior capacity till after the French Revolution. Since that time great statesmen and soldiers have sprung from the Fourth Estate and the lower middle class, both in France and in America; and there is every reason to believe that there is much ability of this as of the other order latent in the body of the people in every country on all of which reflective Socialists propose to draw.

Doubts have, however, been frequently expressed whether culture would not be in danger under Socialism-culture as distinct from originality and genius, which are the fountains that increase it and minister to its enjoyment. Would the mass of the people in a democratic society, it is urged, appreciate a thing they had not got, and did not know? Would they recognize the necessity of setting apart funds for its support and encouragement? According to Professor Sidgwick, the development of culture has been hitherto due to the existence of a rich and leisured class. "It is only in a society of comparatively rich and leisured persons that these capacities (for culture)—and still more, the faculties of producing excellent works in literature and art—are likely to be developed and transmitted in any high degree;" from which it is inferred that in the absence of a rich and leisured class the growth of culture would be in danger of being checked. But although this objection would probably apply to full communism and thorough-going equality, it does not apply to Socialism where some inequality of wealth is allowed, 2 Pol. Econ., Book III. ch. vii. § 2.