difficulties in being able to recognize the symptoms of this awakening. But these do not lie in the theory so much as in its execution, which, it is evident, never admits of special rules, but in this case, as in every other, is the work of genius alone. Theoretically, I should thus endeavour to solve this confessedly intricate problem.
The legislator should keep two things constantly before his eyes:—1. The pure theory developed to its minutest details; 2. The particular condition of actual things which he designs to reform. He must command a view of the theory, not only in all its parts, and in its most careful and complete development, but must, further, never lose sight of the necessary consequences of each of its several principles, in their full extent, in their manifold inter-connection, and (where they cannot all be realized at once) in their mutual dependency on each other. It is no less his duty (although it is doubtless infinitely difficult) to acquaint himself with the actual condition of things, with the nature of all restrictive bonds which the State imposes on the citizens, and which these (under shelter of the political power) impose on each other, contrary to the abstract principles of the theory, and with all the consequences of these restrictions. He should now compare these two pictures with each other; and the time to transfer a theoretical principle into reality would be thus recognized, when it was shown by the comparison that after being transferred the principle would be unaltered, and would produce the results represented in the first picture; or when (if this coincidence should not be perfect) it might yet be anticipated that this difference and shortcoming would be removed, after reality had more closely approximated to theory. For this last-mentioned goal, this continual approximation, should never cease to attract the regard of the legislator.
There may seem to be something strange in the idea of
