in itself, there would be neither worth in the gift nor merit in the giving.

We now proceed to the desire of power. The idea of power is inseparable from that of will. The very act of willing, or, as Hamilton calls it, conation, gives the conception; but this is fully realized only in the passing of the conation into its results. Personal power is in the idea of a will; but the idea of power is implied, and would be given also in the spontaneous exercises of any of the faculties. A faculty and a power are the same thing. It may even be said that in all receptivity there is power. There is the power of receiving; but in the sense now contemplated this would not be a power. In all power exerted there is an origination of activity.

The idea of power, then, enters into our very conception of ourselves. We cannot exist except as powers. The consciousness of being, and of power, can hardly be said to be two things. We can neither know nor rejoice in our being nor its enlargement except through a consciousness of power, and of the enlargement of power. Doubtless there is a high pleasure as we make experiments upon our faculties corporeal and mental, and ascertain the effects we can originate through them, and the more striking the effects the greater the pleasure; but in that we are merely finding ourselves out, and the desire of power no more respects, as has commonly been supposed, that power which enters into the conception of ourselves, than the desire of knowledge includes the light of consciousness and the intuitions of reason. The very desire of power is itself a power, and it is absurd to say that a desire desires itself. In examining man we must take him as possessed of all that makes him man. We find him to be a power,

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and also to possess the desire of power; but, as the desire of knowledge implies a primitive knowledge which the desire does not respect, so the desire of power implies a primitive power which that desire does not respect. We must either adopt this mode of viewing the subject, or resolve all our desires into that of power, since there is in all of them an exertion of power and an enjoyment proportioned to the power exerted.

But all this is very different from that control over nature and men which we may gain by our own skill and exertion, which may be put forth in different directions, or not at all, and the desire of which may exist in different degrees. It is this, and chiefly the desire of controlling our fellow-creatures, that we mean by the desire of power.

Having made this distinction, it may be well to indicate, at this point, the difference between the desire of power and that of liberty, as the latter is often made a part of the former. Liberty has no particular connection with the desire of power as just defined, but has respect to the putting forth, within their legitimate sphere, of any of those faculties by which we are men. It is the condition of the manifestation of our being in any direction we may choose; but I did not class it with the specific desires for the same reason that I omitted the desire of society and of happiness. A free bird does not desire freedom. It was hatched free. Freedom is the general condition of all its activity. So men are born free, and God has given no natural desire to meet a condition of things induced by wrong. It is, therefore, no specific desire, but the whole nature, that rebels against unjust restraint; and freedom can be crushed out only by the degradation of the whole man.

Hence liberty, society, and happiness, the first two being general conditions of our activity, and the last a general

result of it, are more intimate to us, more essential and sacred, than the object of any specific desire.

But to return. The power of man is from his will, and the extent of it he learns wholly by experience. If the movement of mountains had followed his volition from the first as uniformly as the movement of his limbs, it would have seemed to him, and would have been, no more strange. But experience shows him that his direct power extends only to the voluntary muscles of the body and to the voluntary faculties of the mind, and that even here his power is not absolute. Probably no man ever gained the full control either over his muscles or over the faculties of his mind. To give such control is one great object of education. In this is discipline. Here is the first sphere of power, the only one that is direct. Here lies the greatness

of him who ruleth his own spirit.

But between this power, which, though direct, is so narrow in its range, and that indirect power which man may exert over the elements and over nations, the contrast is marvellous. It is this latter power that men chiefly seek, and all mechanism, all practical sciences, all forms of government, are but means for its exercise. They are means, more or less facile, for connecting the will of man with remote results; and nothing more indicates the superiority of man's nature than the extent to which this may be done. An animal can do nothing at a distance from itself in space, and nothing worthy of mention, except in the present, in time; but the will of a single man may find expression in a few words that shall set in motion armies and navies, and the echo of what was at first but a few feeble vibrations of the atmosphere shall come back from distant continents in the roar of cannon and the groans of the dying. The thought and feeling of one man may find

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expression in words that shall be repeated through all time, and work like leaven in transforming society.

The control of man over nature can never be arbitrary. "Nature is conquered only by obeying her laws.” But while nature cannot be broken down by force, the will of man may be. Hence, in governing his fellows, instead of making, as he should, the method he is compelled to follow in nature his model, and governing men in accordance with the laws of their rational and responsible nature, man has employed arbitrary power. It is in the tendency to this that the danger from this desire is found. To a corrupted will the taste of it is like that of blood to the tiger. Under its influence man sets himself up as independent of authority, rejects moral restraint, and in passing to his selfish ends disregards the rights and the miseries of men. The larger part of history is but a record of the deeds of men under the influence of this desire thus perverted.

But whatever the perversions and abuses of this desire may be, there can be no more doubt of its legitimacy than of that of knowledge, since the great use of knowledge is to be a condition for the right exercise of power. If the results of its perversion are terrific, it only shows the uses to which it may be put when rightly directed. The element that rages in the conflagration is the same that enables man to mould to his will the most refractory substances in nature, and which may be made so much the more energetic in its usefulness, as, when uncontrolled, it had been destructive and awful. It is the same atmosphere that, in its condensed energies, forms the tornado, that wafts the ship, and kisses the leaf of the violet. Every creature of God is good; but it is to be used not only "with thanksgiving," but in accordance with his laws.

It is this arbitrary power that kings, and especially tyrants, have sought and possessed. In the early stages of society it was natural that such a power should be attained, and, once attained, that it should seek to perpetuate itself. But men have found the trust too great. They are, therefore, seeking to divide the power, and, by putting it into the hands of the people themselves, to bring interest in to the aid of principle. It is creditable to man that he can maintain a republic, but it would be more so if monarchy could be well administered. If democracy trusts the people to a certain extent, it yet proceeds upon a distrust of man. By adopting as its maxim that "eternal vigilance is the price of liberty," it declares that man has no moderation in the desire, and is not to be trusted in the use of power.

But besides arbitrary power backed by force, there is another which we call influence, not less effectual, and often not less extensive, which is exercised, not by coercion, but in compatibility with the laws of mind and the freedom of others. This is the power of the wise, of the eloquent, of the good man; and as it always implies the possession of qualities respectable in themselves, and generally beneficial, it is to be sought by every honorable

means.

Power and influence are not incompatible, but, as contrasted, they differ in several respects. Power interferes with freedom; influence does not. Power stands above those whom it controls, and issues its commands; influence elicits and directs the individual energies of those upon whom it bears, and thus enlarges the sphere of their agency. Power keeps itself aloof as an object of fear and admiration; influence mingles in with the agencies which itself has set in motion, and is often so lost in them as to