Macaulay, in describing the rise of the two great parties which have alternately governed England during the last two centuries, traces the division to a fundamental distinction which "had always existed and always must exist," causing the human mind "to be drawn in opposite directions by the charm of habit and the charm of novelty," and separating mankind into two classes--those who are "anxious to preserve" and those who are "eager to reform." It seems to us extremely doubtful whether this theory, so neat and compact, so simple to state and so easy to illustrate, would suffice to explain all the struggles, great and small, that have agitated society, varying in character and circumstances, and ranging from fervent emulation to violent collision--from the ferment of ideas which is the surest sign of vitality to the selfish and aimless convulsions that portend dissolution. Applied to that condition of things by which it was suggested, the theory may be allowed to stand. The history of parliamentary government in England, in recent times at least, presents a tolerably fair example of a contest between two parties composed respectively of men who desired and men who resisted innovation--of those who looked forward to an ideal future and those who looked back to an ideal past. That the former should triumph in the long run lay in the very necessity of things; but, whatever may be thought of the changes that have taken place, no one would venture to assert that the contest has ever been conducted with purely selfish aims; that no great principles were involved in it; that the general mass of the voters have been the mere tools of artful leaders; that appeals to the reason, or at least to the interests or the prejudices, of the whole nation or of different classes have been wanting on either side; that at any crisis there has been no discussion of measures, past or prospective, no talk of any question concerning the honor or welfare of the country; or that victory has ever been achieved or contemplated by the employment of mere cunning or fraud. But in a state of things of which one might assert all this without fear of contradiction the existence of two parties, however evenly balanced, could hardly be accounted for by the sway in opposite directions of the charms of habit and of novelty and the natural antagonism between men who are anxious to preserve and men who are eager to reform. That such a state of things may actually exist there can be no doubt, since, if history had no example to offer in the past, one which is equally undeniable and conspicuous is presented by the United States at the present moment. Here is a people divided into two great parties, neither of which is anxious to preserve what the other would seek to destroy, or eager to reform anything which the other would leave untouched; no principle involving any question or policy of the present or the future is inscribed on the banner of either; no