on the surface of things, there has been an under-current of improvement, coëxtensive with the whole course of time. There never was an age in which some element of humanity was not making progress. Even in those periods of the world, which seem darkest to the superficial historian, there has ever been some process at work, in which the best interests of mankind were involved. In the dark ages, emphatically so called, more was done for society, than during the whole period of ancient history. For, what is society? It is not a single people or generation, it is not a collection of individuals as such; but it is an intimate union of individuals, voluntarily coöperating for the common good, actuated by social feelings, governed by social principles, and urged onward by social improvements. Society, in this sense, has always been advancing, not uniformly, indeed, far from it,sometimes the motion has not been perceptible, sometimes, it may be, there has been no motion at all, but it has never lost ground; whenever it has moved at all, it has moved forward. The human mind, the source of this progress, has acted like the animal heart, not by a constant effort, but by successive pulsations, which pulsations, however, unlike those of the animal heart, must be reckoned, not by seconds, but by ages. Each pulsation has sent forth into the world some. new sentiment or principle, some discovery or invention, which, like small portions of leaven, have successively communicated their quickening energy to the whole mass of society. It is the first duty of the philosophic historian to trace and exhibit these successive impulses. He who can do this, and he only, will be able to furnish a sytematic history of Man; something very different from, and infinitely more important than the histories we now have of dynasties and tribes. Taking this view of society, the first thing which strikes us is the fact, that the social feeling, in its proper sense, - by which we mean, not that sentiment which binds us to our kindred and friends, nor that which compels us, as weak and dependent beings, to seek protection from our kind, but that which connects us with our fellow-men, as beings to whom we are intimately related, as beings between whom and us God has established a sacred and indissoluble bond, -is a principle of comparatively recent date. In the early ages of the world, it was scarcely known. It is an element intro duced by Christianity; and it is this which marks the grand distinction between ancient and modern times, and gives to the latter their preeminent importance, as it respects the best interests of mankind. We shall illustrate this position by comparing the most brilliant era of antiquity with the darkest period in the history of Christian nations. Take that portion of Grecian history which is comprised between the Persian and the Macedonian wars, between the battles of Platæa and Cheronea. What life, what energy, what glory, was there! In every walk of life, what lofty models of individual greatness! In every department of intellectual exertion, what miracles of genius! To that period and to that people belong the most perfect and enduring creations of the human mind. What philosopher since then has matched the wisdom of Socrates, or reached the sublimity of Plato? What statesman, in any succeeding age, has ruled like Pericles? What orator spoken like him of Athens? What sculptor or architect of modern times, ever thinks of surpassing, or even hopes to equal, the wonders of Grecian art? Yet, if we view those times more narrowly, and in the spirit of that philosophy which watches the progress of humanity, rather than the achievements of genius and the triumphs of nations, what do we find there that concerns man as a social being, and applies to him as such, in every age. Almost nothing. Every thing was individual or national; nothing universal. Every thing was done that could be done for philosophy, the arts, and the nation, but hardly any thing for man. Society made but little progress. The true notion of society does not even appear to have been recognised in that age. The single fact, that merchants were excluded from the "Republic" of Plato, speaks volumes on this subject. There was nothing like social union, no hearty coöperation of individuals or states, to promote a common object. Of the two states best known to us, the one was a military school, the other an unmanageable democracy. The confederacy of the independent powers seems at first to exhibit something like a manifestation of the social principle; but this was a forced coalition, growing out of the necessity of the times, rather than a friendly association. A common danger had united the inferior states under Athens, during the Persian wars, and after that they remained frozen together, by the mere want of sufficient vitality and energy to separate, rather than cement ed by any elective affinity. So that the very idea of Greece, as a single nation, in the comprehensiveness with which we now apply the term, was a conception of after times, unknown to the Greeks themselves. The feeling of a common country never pervaded the several states with sufficient force to effect a perfect union. We may almost say it was never elicited except at intervals of four years on the consecrated plains of Elis. There, within the hallowed precincts of Olympia, in the presence of the thousand statues and national temples which the hands of his own countrymen had reared and carved, the son of Hellas might well feel the stirring of a nobler sentiment than the narrow prejudice which bound him to the walls of his native city. There he might learn to glory in the name and honors of a Grecian. "He could return from the Olympian games and say, with truth, that he had seen the noblest objects which the earth contained, and that these were not the works of foreigners, but the creation and property of his own people."* It is customary to speak in exalted terms of the agency which Greece has had in the civilization of mankind; and so far as the culture of genius and taste conduces to civilization, the eulogy is just. We are indebted to that people for the noblest monuments of human art. From them we have derived those imperishable models, to which the judgment of ages has given the praise of perfection. It is the glory of modern art to copy their exquisite proportions, and the highest ambition of modern taste to exhibit their likeness in our halls and the streets of our cities. From them we have derived those forms of beauty which exalt the beholder above the low necessities of earth, and stir the soul as with breathings from a purer world, teaching it to commune with that ideal fair and good, which, even in Phidias's hands, the unfeeling marble could but faintly express. We have the "Laocoon's torture, dignifying pain"; we have, "The lord of the unerring bow, The god of life and poesy and light,”. — “ All that ideal beauty ever blessed Starlike around, until they gathered to a god!" *Heeren's Greece. We have from them the noblest inspirations of poetry, and we have, what is more precious than all these, the examples of wise and good men, which teach us, better than all homilies, what is excellent and holy in human actions, which show us how poor a thing the glory of this world is in comparison with the privilege of virtue, and how much better it is to die the death of the brave in a good cause, than to purchase a coward's life at the expense of conscience and truth. But when we ask what Greece has contributed to the cause of mankind, what she has done to strengthen the ties which bind man to man, we look in vain for a similar harvest. The council of Amphictyon furnished a few principles of international policy, and the earliest example of a representative congress. The Isthmian and Pythian games, first awakened the sentiment of national competition, a good principle, when rightly directed. The history of Athens presents the first imperfect model of a popular government. The invention of letters, a real and lasting benefit to society, was a thing of older date. And, when we have mentioned these things, we have almost exhausted that department in the storehouse of antiquity. For, when we come to Rome, "the battlefield of time," and "the charnel-house of nations," as it has been called, what is there, if we except those principles of civil law, which, in a subsequent age were collected and reduced to a system, if we except these, what is there that Rome has done for man. Add to the legacies of these two nations, a few relics from the wreck of Carthage, and a few, comparatively unimportant, discoveries and inventions, scattered up and down through the whole four thousand years, and what else is there in the old world whereby mankind have been permanently profited. - But now pass to a darker spot in the retrospect of nations. Let the central and northern parts of Europe be the scene, and the thousand years, which preceded the Reformation, the time of action. A new agent has now been introduced into the affairs of men, a religion, suited to the social and progressive nature of man, a religion adapted to men in every age, and in every quarter of the globe, and therefore destined to become a universal religion, a bond of union between all climes and nations, a principle embracing the whole world, and reducing mankind to one family. What promise was here! In this principle we have the beginning of a new era in the history of man. It is impossible to estimate too highly the benefits we owe to Christianity, considered merely as an element of civilization. Our most valuable institutions, all whereby the work of improvement has been speeded, and the results of improvement secured, have originated under Christian influences. It is true, the religion did not fulfill at once the promise implied in its first appearance; nor was this to be expected, for it is a law of the universe, that every thing, which is destined to have permanent value, shall be progressive in its developement. The first harvest of the world had arrived,-it was necessary that the seed of civilization, contained in that harvest, should die, before it could be quickened into new life, under the fostering influences of the new religion. Hence the gloom and barbarism of the middle ages. But in the midst of that gloom, in the secret bosom of society, the seed was ripening for a better harvest. Amid all the din of Gothic devastation, and the strife of church and chivalry, the "still, sad music of humanity" was heard, pleading the cause of justice and truth. Nor did it plead in vain. Silently and slowly a process was going on by which mankind were to be raised at last from ignorance and corruption to the light and liberty of these later times. We have spoken of that era as having contributed more to the advancement of society, than the whole period of ancient history. In support of this assertion, we need only remind our readers, how suddenly, how alınost immediately after the Reformation, society advanced to a state of civilization unknown in any former age. For civilization is not to be measured by the progress of individual minds, but by the degree of comfort and the extent of cultivation which exist among the people at large. This advancement could not have taken place had the preceding age been an age of inaction. If this fact is not sufficient, it would be easy to specify particular circumstances, discoveries, and principles in the history of those times, which exerted an influence, andm any of which could not but exert, and must always exert, a very powerful influence on the welfare of society. Some things, which seemed unfavorable at first, proved beneficial in the end. The irruption of the barbarous tribes, served to supplant an enfeebled generation by the introduction of another and hardier race. Physical strength and |