{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10378/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10378","id":"gutenberg_10378","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10378","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Harvard Classics","Mill, John Stuart, 1806-1873","Philosophers -- England -- Biography","Philosophy"],"text":"[Transcriber's note: between brackets [ ] some fragments are included,\nwhich are  not present in all editions, mostly commentaries concerning\nMr. Mill's wife and  stepdaughter (Helen Taylor)--an html ed. of this\ne-text, including index is pending.]\n\n\n\n\n\nAUTOBIOGRAPHY\n\nby\n\nJOHN STUART MILL\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER I   1806-1819\n\nCHILDHOOD AND EARLY EDUCATION\n\n\nCHAPTER II   1813-1821\n\nMORAL INFLUENCES IN EARLY YOUTH--MY FATHER'S CHARACTER AND OPINIONS\n\n\nCHAPTER III   1821-1823\n\nLAST STAGE OF EDUCATION, AND FIRST OF SELF-EDUCATION\n\n\nCHAPTER IV   1823-1828\n\nYOUTHFUL PROPAGANDISM--THE \"WESTMINSTER REVIEW\"\n\n\nCHAPTER V   1826-1832\n\nA CRISIS IN MY MENTAL HISTORY--ONE STAGE ONWARD\n\n\nCHAPTER VI   1830-1840\n\nCOMMENCEMENT OF THE MOST VALUABLE FRIENDSHIP OF MY LIFE--MY FATHER'S\nDEATH--WRITINGS AND OTHER PROCEEDINGS UP TO 1840\n\n\nCHAPTER VII   1840-1870\n\nGENERAL VIEW OF THE REMAINDER OF MY LIFE.--COMPLETION OF THE \"SYSTEM\nOF LOGIC\"--PUBLICATION OF THE \"PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMY\"\n--MARRIAGE--RETIREMENT FROM THE INDIA HOUSE--PUBLICATION OF \"LIBERTY\"\n--\"CONSIDERATIONS ON REPRESENTATIVE GOVERNMENT\"--CIVIL WAR IN AMERICA\n--EXAMINATION OF SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY--PARLIAMENTARY LIFE\n--REMAINDER OF MY LIFE\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nCHILDHOOD AND EARLY EDUCATION\n\n\nIt seems proper that I should prefix to the following biographical sketch\nsome mention of the reasons which have made me think it desirable that I\nshould leave behind me such a memorial of so uneventful a life as mine.\nI do not for a moment imagine that any part of what I have to relate can\nbe interesting to the public as a narrative or as being connected with\nmyself. But I have thought that in an age in which education and its\nimprovement are the subject of more, if not of profounder, study than at\nany former period of English history, it may be useful that there should\nbe some record of an education which was unusual and remarkable, and\nwhich, whatever else it may have done, has proved how much more than is\ncommonly supposed may be taught, and well taught, in those early years\nwhich, in the common modes of what is called instruction, are little\nbetter than wasted. It has also seemed to me that in an age of transition\nin opinions, there may be somewhat both of interest and of benefit in\nnoting the successive phases of any mind which was always pressing forward,\nequally ready to learn and to unlearn either from its own thoughts or from\nthose of others. But a motive which weighs more with me than either of\nthese, is a desire to make acknowledgment of the debts which my\nintellectual and moral development owes to other persons; some of them of\nrecognised eminence, others less known than they deserve to be, and the\none to whom most of all is due, one whom the world had no opportunity of\nknowing. The reader whom these things do not interest, has only himself to\nblame if he reads farther, and I do not desire any other indulgence from\nhim than that of bearing in mind that for him these pages were not written.\n\nI was born in London, on the 20th of May, 1806, and was the eldest son\nof James Mill, the author of the _History of British India_. My father,\nthe son of a petty tradesman and (I believe) small farmer, at Northwater\nBridge, in the county of Angus, was, when a boy, recommended by his\nabilities to the notice of Sir John Stuart, of Fettercairn, one of the\nBarons of the Exchequer in Scotland, and was, in consequence, sent to\nthe University of Edinburgh, at the expense of a fund established by\nLady Jane Stuart (the wife of Sir John Stuart) and some other ladies\nfor educating young men for the Scottish Church. He there went through\nthe usual course of study, and was licensed as a Preacher, but never\nfollowed the profession; having satisfied himself that he could not\nbelieve the doctrines of that or any other Church. For a few years he\nwas a private tutor in various families in Scotland, among others that\nof the Marquis of Tweeddale, but ended by taking up his residence in\nLondon, and devoting himself to authorship. Nor had he any other means\nof support until 1819, when he obtained an appointment in the India House.\n\nIn this period of my father's life there are two things which it is\nimpossible not to be struck with: one of them unfortunately a very\ncommon circumstance, the other a most uncommon one. The first is, that\nin his position, with no resource but the precarious one of writing in\nperiodicals, he married and had a large family; conduct than which\nnothing could be more opposed, both as a matter of good sense and of\nduty, to the opinions which, at least at a later period of life, he\nstrenuously upheld. The other circumstance, is the extraordinary\nenergy which was required to lead the life he led, with the\ndisadvantages under which he laboured from the first, and with those\nwhich he brought upon himself by his marriage. It would have been no\nsmall thing, had he done no more than to support himself and his\nfamily during so many years by writing, without ever being in debt,\nor in any pecuniary difficulty; holding, as he did, opinions, both in\npolitics and in religion, which were more odious to all persons of\ninfluence, and to the common run of prosperous Englishmen, in that\ngeneration than either before or since; and being not only a man whom\nnothing would have induced to write against his convictions, but one\nwho invariably threw into everything he wrote, as much of his\nconvictions as he thought the circumstances would in any way permit:\nbeing, it must also be said, one who never did anything negligently;\nnever undertook any task, literary or other, on which he did not\nconscientiously bestow all the labour necessary for performing it\nadequately. But he, with these burdens on him, planned, commenced, and\ncompleted, the _History of India_; and this in the course of about ten\nyears, a shorter time than has been occupied (even by writers who had\nno other employment) in the production of almost any other historical\nwork of equal bulk, and of anything approaching to the same amount of\nreading and research. And to this is to be added, that during the\nwhole period, a considerable part of almost every day was employed in\nthe instruction of his children: in the case of one of whom, myself,\nhe exerted an amount of labour, care, and perseverance rarely, if\never, employed for a similar purpose, in endeavouring to give,\naccording to his own conception, the highest order of intellectual\neducation.\n\nA man who, in his own practice, so vigorously acted up to the\nprinciple of losing no time, was likely to adhere to the same rule\nin the instruction of his pupil. I have no remembrance of the time\nwhen I began to learn Greek; I have been told that it was when I was\nthree years old. My earliest recollection on the subject, is that of\ncommitting to memory what my father termed vocables, being lists of\ncommon Greek words, with their signification in English, which he\nwrote out for me on cards. Of grammar, until some years later, I\nlearnt no more than the inflections of the nouns and verbs, but, after\na course of vocables, proceeded at once to translation; and I faintly\nremember going through Aesop's _Fables_, the first Greek book which\nI read. The _Anabasis_, which I remember better, was the second. I\nlearnt no Latin until my eighth year. At that time I had read, under\nmy father's tuition, a number of Greek prose authors, among whom I\nremember the whole of Herodotus, and of Xenophon's _Cyropaedia_ and\n_Memorials of Socrates_; some of the lives of the philosophers by\nDiogenes Laertius; part of Lucian, and Isocrates ad Demonicum and Ad\nNicoclem. I also read, in 1813, the first six dialogues (in the common\narrangement) of Plato, from the Euthyphron to the Theoctetus inclusive:\nwhich last dialogue, I venture to think, would have been better omitted,\nas it was totally impossible I should understand it. But my father, in\nall his teaching, demanded of me not only the utmost that I could do,\nbut much that I could by no possibility have done. What he was himself\nwilling to undergo for the sake of my instruction, may be judged from\nthe fact, that I went through the whole process of preparing my Greek\nlessons in the same room and at the same table at which he was writing:\nand as in those days Greek and English lexicons were not, and I could\nmake no more use of a Greek and Latin lexicon than could be made without\nhaving yet begun to learn Latin, I was forced to have recourse to him\nfor the meaning of every word which I did not know. This incessant\ninterruption, he, one of the most impatient of men, submitted to, and\nwrote under that interruption several volumes of his History and all\nelse that he had to write during those years.\n\nThe only thing besides Greek, that I learnt as a lesson in this part\nof my childhood, was arithmetic: this also my father taught me: it was\nthe task of the evenings, and I well remember its disagreeableness.\nBut the lessons were only a part of the daily instruction I received.\nMuch of it consisted in the books I read by myself, and my father's\ndiscourses to me, chiefly during our walks. From 1810 to the end of\n1813 we were living in Newington Green, then an almost rustic\nneighbourhood. My father's health required considerable and constant\nexercise, and he walked habitually before breakfast, generally in the\ngreen lanes towards Hornsey. In these walks I always accompanied him,\nand with my earliest recollections of green fields and wild flowers,\nis mingled that of the account I gave him daily of what I had read the\nday before. To the best of my remembrance, this was a voluntary rather\nthan a prescribed exercise. I made notes on slips of paper while\nreading, and from these in the morning walks, I told the story to him;\nfor the books were chiefly histories, of which I read in this manner\na great number: Robertson's histories, Hume, Gibbon; but my greatest\ndelight, then and for long afterwards, was Watson's _Philip the Second\nand Third_. The heroic defence of the Knights of Malta against the\nTurks, and of the revolted Provinces of the Netherlands against Spain,\nexcited in me an intense and lasting interest. Next to Watson, my\nfavourite historical reading was Hooke's _History of Rome_. Of Greece\nI had seen at that time no regular history, except school abridgments\nand the last two or three volumes of a translation of Rollin's\n_Ancient History_, beginning with Philip of Macedon. But I read with\ngreat delight Langhorne's translation of Plutarch. In English history,\nbeyond the time at which Hume leaves off, I remember reading Burnet's\n_History of his Own Time_, though I cared little for anything in it\nexcept the wars and battles; and the historical part of the _Annual\nRegister_, from the beginning to about 1788, where the volumes my\nfather borrowed for me from Mr. Bentham left off. I felt a lively\ninterest in Frederic of Prussia during his difficulties, and in Paoli,\nthe Corsican patriot; but when I came to the American War, I took my\npart, like a child as I was (until set right by my father) on the\nwrong side, because it was called the English side. In these frequent\ntalks about the books I read, he used, as opportunity offered, to give\nme explanations and ideas respecting civilization, government, morality,\nmental cultivation, which he required me afterwards to restate to him\nin my own words. He also made me read, and give him a verbal account of,\nmany books which would not have interested me sufficiently to induce me\nto read them of myself: among other's Millar's _Historical View of the\nEnglish Government_, a book of great merit for its time, and which he\nhighly valued; Mosheim's _Ecclesiastical History_, McCrie's _Life of\nJohn Knox_, and even Sewell and Rutty's Histories of the Quakers. He was\nfond of putting into my hands books which exhibited men of energy and\nresource in unusual circumstances, struggling against difficulties and\novercoming them: of such works I remember Beaver's _African Memoranda_,\nand Collins's _Account of the First Settlement of New South Wales_.\nTwo books which I never wearied of reading were Anson's Voyages, so\ndelightful to most young persons, and a collection (Hawkesworth's, I\nbelieve) of _Voyages round the World_, in four volumes, beginning with\nDrake and ending with Cook and Bougainville. Of children's books, any\nmore than of playthings, I had scarcely any, except an occasional gift\nfrom a relation or acquaintance: among those I had, _Robinson Crusoe_\nwas pre-eminent, and continued to delight me through all my boyhood.\nIt was no part, however, of my father's system to exclude books of\namusement, though he allowed them very sparingly. Of such books he\npossessed at that time next to none, but he borrowed several for me;\nthose which I remember are the _Arabian Nights_, Cazotte's _Arabian\nTales_, _Don Quixote_, Miss Edgeworth's _Popular Tales_, and a book\nof some reputation in its day, Brooke's _Fool of Quality_.\n\nIn my eighth year I commenced learning Latin, in conjunction with a\nyounger sister, to whom I taught it as I went on, and who afterwards\nrepeated the lessons to my father; from this time, other sisters and\nbrothers being successively added as pupils, a considerable part of my\nday's work consisted of this preparatory teaching. It was a part which\nI greatly disliked; the more so, as I was held responsible for the\nlessons of my pupils, in almost as full a sense as for my own: I,\nhowever, derived from this discipline the great advantage, of learning\nmore thoroughly and retaining more lastingly the things which I was\nset to teach: perhaps, too, the practice it afforded in explaining\ndifficulties to others, may even at that age have been useful. In\nother respects, the experience of my boyhood is not favourable to the\nplan of teaching children by means of one another. The teaching, I\nam sure, is very inefficient as teaching, and I well know that the\nrelation between teacher and taught is not a good moral discipline\nto either. I went in this manner through the Latin grammar, and a\nconsiderable part of Cornelius Nepos and Caesar's Commentaries, but\nafterwards added to the superintendence of these lessons, much longer\nones of my own.\n\nIn the same year in which I began Latin, I made my first commencement\nin the Greek poets with the Iliad. After I had made some progress in\nthis, my father put Pope's translation into my hands. It was the first\nEnglish verse I had cared to read, and it became one of the books in\nwhich for many years I most delighted: I think I must have read it\nfrom twenty to thirty times through. I should not have thought it\nworth while to mention a taste apparently so natural to boyhood, if I\nhad not, as I think, observed that the keen enjoyment of this brilliant\nspecimen of narrative and versification is not so universal with boys,\nas I should have expected both _a priori_ and from my individual\nexperience. Soon after this time I commenced Euclid, and somewhat later,\nAlgebra, still under my father's tuition.\n\nFrom my eighth to my twelfth year, the Latin books which I remember\nreading were, the _Bucolics_ of Virgil, and the first six books of the\nAeneid; all Horace, except the Epodes; the Fables of Phaedrus; the\nfirst five books of Livy (to which from my love of the subject I\nvoluntarily added, in my hours of leisure, the remainder of the first\ndecade); all Sallust; a considerable part of Ovid's _Metamorphoses_;\nsome plays of Terence; two or three books of Lucretius; several of the\nOrations of Cicero, and of his writings on oratory; also his letters\nto Atticus, my father taking the trouble to translate to me from the\nFrench the historical explanations in Mingault's notes. In Greek I\nread the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ through; one or two plays of Sophocles,\nEuripides, and Aristophanes, though by these I profited little; all\nThucydides; the _Hellenics_ of Xenophon; a great part of Demosthenes,\nAeschines, and Lysias; Theocritus; Anacreon; part of the _Anthology_;\na little of Dionysius; several books of Polybius; and lastly\nAristotle's _Rhetoric_, which, as the first expressly scientific\ntreatise on any moral or psychological subject which I had read, and\ncontaining many of the best observations of the ancients on human\nnature and life, my father made me study with peculiar care, and throw\nthe matter of it into synoptic tables. During the same years I learnt\nelementary geometry and algebra thoroughly, the differential calculus,\nand other portions of the higher mathematics far from thoroughly: for\nmy father, not having kept up this part of his early acquired\nknowledge, could not spare time to qualify himself for removing my\ndifficulties, and left me to deal with them, with little other aid\nthan that of books: while I was continually incurring his displeasure\nby my inability to solve difficult problems for which he did not see\nthat I had not the necessary previous knowledge.\n\nAs to my private reading, I can only speak of what I remember. History\ncontinued to be my strongest predilection, and most of all ancient\nhistory. Mitford's Greece I read continually; my father had put me on\nmy guard against the Tory prejudices of this writer, and his\nperversions of facts for the whitewashing of despots, and blackening\nof popular institutions. These points he discoursed on, exemplifying\nthem from the Greek orators and historians, with such effect that in\nreading Mitford my sympathies were always on the contrary side to\nthose of the author, and I could, to some extent, have argued the\npoint against him: yet this did not diminish the ever new pleasure\nwith which I read the book. Roman history, both in my old favourite,\nHooke, and in Ferguson, continued to delight me. A book which, in\nspite of what is called the dryness of its style, I took great\npleasure in, was the _Ancient Universal History_, through the\nincessant reading of which, I had my head full of historical details\nconcerning the obscurest ancient people, while about modern history,\nexcept detached passages, such as the Dutch War of Independence, I\nknew and cared comparatively little. A voluntary exercise, to which\nthroughout my boyhood I was much addicted, was what I called writing\nhistories. I successively composed a Roman History, picked out\nof Hooke; and an Abridgment of the _Ancient Universal History_; a\nHistory of Holland, from my favourite Watson and from an anonymous\ncompilation; and in my eleventh and twelfth year I occupied myself\nwith writing what I flattered myself was something serious. This was\nno less than a History of the Roman Government, compiled (with the\nassistance of Hooke) from Livy and Dionysius: of which I wrote as much\nas would have made an octavo volume, extending to the epoch of the\nLicinian Laws. It was, in fact, an account of the struggles between\nthe patricians and plebeians, which now engrossed all the interest in\nmy mind which I had previously felt in the mere wars and conquests of\nthe Romans. I discussed all the constitutional points as they arose:\nthough quite ignorant of Niebuhr's researches, I, by such lights as my\nfather had given me, vindicated the Agrarian Laws on the evidence of\nLivy, and upheld, to the best of my ability, the Roman Democratic\nparty. A few years later, in my contempt of my childish efforts, I\ndestroyed all these papers, not then anticipating that I could ever\nfeel any curiosity about my first attempts at writing and reasoning.\nMy father encouraged me in this useful amusement, though, as I think\njudiciously, he never asked to see what I wrote; so that I did not\nfeel that in writing it I was accountable to any one, nor had the\nchilling sensation of being under a critical eye.\n\nBut though these exercises in history were never a compulsory lesson,\nthere was another kind of composition which was so, namely, writing\nverses, and it was one of the most disagreeable of my tasks. Greek\nand Latin verses I did not write, nor learnt the prosody of those\nlanguages. My father, thinking this not worth the time it required,\ncontented himself with making me read aloud to him, and correcting\nfalse quantities. I never composed at all in Greek, even in prose, and\nbut little in Latin. Not that my father could be indifferent to the\nvalue of this practice, in giving a thorough knowledge of these\nlanguages, but because there really was not time for it. The verses\nI was required to write were English. When I first read Pope's Homer,\nI ambitiously attempted to compose something of the same kind, and\nachieved as much as one book of a continuation of the _Iliad_. There,\nprobably, the spontaneous promptings of my poetical ambition would\nhave stopped; but the exercise, begun from choice, was continued by\ncommand. Conformably to my father's usual practice of explaining to\nme, as far as possible, the reasons for what he required me to do,\nhe gave me, for this, as I well remember, two reasons highly\ncharacteristic of him: one was, that some things could be expressed\nbetter and more forcibly in verse than in prose: this, he said, was\na real advantage. The other was, that people in general attached more\nvalue to verse than it deserved, and the power of writing it, was, on\nthis account, worth acquiring. He generally left me to choose my own\nsubjects, which, as far as I remember, were mostly addresses to some\nmythological personage or allegorical abstraction; but he made me\ntranslate into English verse many of Horace's shorter poems: I also\nremember his giving me Thomson's _Winter_ to read, and afterwards\nmaking me attempt (without book) to write something myself on the same\nsubject. The verses I wrote were, of course, the merest rubbish, nor\ndid I ever attain any facility of versification, but the practice may\nhave been useful in making it easier for me, at a later period, to\nacquire readiness of expression.[1] I had read, up to this time, very\nlittle English poetry. Shakspeare my father had put into my hands,\nchiefly for the sake of the historical plays, from which, however,\nI went on to the others. My father never was a great admirer of\nShakspeare, the English idolatry of whom he used to attack with some\nseverity. He cared little for any English poetry except Milton (for\nwhom he had the highest admiration), Goldsmith, Burns, and Gray's\n_Bard_, which he preferred to his Elegy: perhaps I may add Cowper and\nBeattie. He had some value for Spenser, and I remember his reading to\nme (unlike his usual practice of making me read to him) the first book\nof the _Fairie Queene_; but I took little pleasure in it. The poetry\nof the present century he saw scarcely any merit in, and I hardly\nbecame acquainted with any of it till I was grown up to manhood,\nexcept the metrical romances of Walter Scott, which I read at his\nrecommendation and was intensely delighted with; as I always was with\nanimated narrative. Dryden's Poems were among my father's books, and\nmany of these he made me read, but I never cared for any of them\nexcept _Alexander's Feast_, which, as well as many of the songs\nin Walter Scott, I used to sing internally, to a music of my own: to\nsome of the latter, indeed, I went so far as to compose airs, which\nI still remember. Cowper's short poems I read with some pleasure, but\nnever got far into the longer ones; and nothing in the two volumes\ninterested me like the prose account of his three hares. In my\nthirteenth year I met with Campbell's poems, among which _Lochiel_,\n_Hohenlinden_, _The Exile of Erin_, and some others, gave me\nsensations I had never before experienced from poetry. Here, too,\nI made nothing of the longer poems, except the striking opening of\n_Gertrude of Wyoming_, which long kept its place in my feelings as\nthe perfection of pathos.\n\nDuring this part of my childhood, one of my greatest amusements was\nexperimental science; in the theoretical, however, not the practical\nsense of the word; not trying experiments--a kind of discipline which\nI have often regretted not having had--nor even seeing, but merely\nreading about them. I never remember being so wrapt up in any book, as\nI was in Joyce's _Scientific Dialogues_; and I was rather recalcitrant\nto my father's criticisms of the bad reasoning respecting the first\nprinciples of physics, which abounds in the early part of that work. I\ndevoured treatises on Chemistry, especially that of my father's early\nfriend and schoolfellow, Dr. Thomson, for years before I attended a\nlecture or saw an experiment.\n\nFrom about the age of twelve, I entered into another and more advanced\nstage in my course of instruction; in which the main object was no\nlonger the aids and appliances of thought, but the thoughts themselves.\nThis commenced with Logic, in which I began at once with the _Organon_,\nand read it to the Analytics inclusive, but profited little by the\nPosterior Analytics, which belong to a branch of speculation I was not\nyet ripe for. Contemporaneously with the _Organon_, my father made me\nread the whole or parts of several of the Latin treatises on the\nscholastic logic; giving each day to him, in our walks, a minute account\nof what I had read, and answering his numerous and most searching\nquestions. After this, I went in a similar manner through the _Computatio\nsive Logica_ of Hobbes, a work of a much higher order of thought than the\nbooks of the school logicians, and which he estimated very highly; in my\nown opinion beyond its merits, great as these are. It was his invariable\npractice, whatever studies he exacted from me, to make me as far as\npossible understand and feel the utility of them: and this he deemed\npeculiarly fitting in the case of the syllogistic logic, the usefulness\nof which had been impugned by so many writers of authority. I well\nremember how, and in what particular walk, in the neighbourhood of Bagshot\nHeath (where we were on a visit to his old friend Mr. Wallace, then one\nof the Mathematical Professors at Sandhurst) he first attempted by\nquestions to make me think on the subject, and frame some conception of\nwhat constituted the utility of the syllogistic logic, and when I had\nfailed in this, to make me understand it by explanations. The\nexplanations did not make the matter at all clear to me at the time;\nbut they were not therefore useless; they remained as a nucleus for my\nobservations and reflections to crystallize upon; the import of his\ngeneral remarks being interpreted to me, by the particular instances\nwhich came under my notice afterwards. My own consciousness and\nexperience ultimately led me to appreciate quite as highly as he did,\nthe value of an early practical familiarity with the school logic.\nI know of nothing, in my education, to which I think myself more\nindebted for whatever capacity of thinking I have attained. The first\nintellectual operation in which I arrived at any proficiency, was\ndissecting a bad argument, and finding in what part the fallacy lay:\nand though whatever capacity of this sort I attained, was due to the\nfact that it was an intellectual exercise in which I was most\nperseveringly drilled by my father, yet it is also true that the\nschool logic, and the mental habits acquired in studying it, were\namong the principal instruments of this drilling. I am persuaded that\nnothing, in modern education, tends so much, when properly used, to\nform exact thinkers, who attach a precise meaning to words and\npropositions, and are not imposed on by vague, loose, or ambiguous\nterms. The boasted influence of mathematical studies is nothing to\nit; for in mathematical processes, none of the real difficulties of\ncorrect ratiocination occur. It is also a study peculiarly adapted to\nan early stage in the education of philosophical students, since it\ndoes not presuppose the slow process of acquiring, by experience and\nreflection, valuable thoughts of their own. They may become capable\nof disentangling the intricacies of confused and self-contradictory\nthought, before their own thinking faculties are much advanced; a\npower which, for want of some such discipline, many otherwise able\nmen altogether lack; and when they have to answer opponents, only\nendeavour, by such arguments as they can command, to support the\nopposite conclusion, scarcely even attempting to confute the\nreasonings of their antagonists; and, therefore, at the utmost,\nleaving the question, as far as it depends on argument, a balanced one.\n\nDuring this time, the Latin and Greek books which I continued to read\nwith my father were chiefly such as were worth studying, not for the\nlanguage merely, but also for the thoughts. This included much of the\norators, and especially Demosthenes, some of whose principal orations\nI read several times over, and wrote out, by way of exercise, a full\nanalysis of them. My father's comments on these orations when I read\nthem to him were very instructive to me. He not only drew my attention\nto the insight they afforded into Athenian institutions, and the\nprinciples of legislation and government which they often illustrated,\nbut pointed out the skill and art of the orator--how everything\nimportant to his purpose was said at the exact moment when he had\nbrought the minds of his audience into the state most fitted to\nreceive it; how he made steal into their minds, gradually and by\ninsinuation, thoughts which, if expressed in a more direct manner,\nwould have roused their opposition. Most of these reflections were\nbeyond my capacity of full comprehension at the time; but they left\nseed behind, which germinated in due season. At this time I also read\nthe whole of Tacitus, Juvenal, and Quintilian. The latter, owing to\nhis obscure style and to the scholastic details of which many parts\nof his treatise are made up, is little read, and seldom sufficiently\nappreciated. His book is a kind of encyclopaedia of the thoughts of\nthe ancients on the whole field of education and culture; and I have\nretained through life many valuable ideas which I can distinctly trace\nto my reading of him, even at that early age. It was at this period\nthat I read, for the first time, some of the most important dialogues\nof Plato, in particular the _Gorgias_, the _Protagoras_, and the\n_Republic_. There is no author to whom my father thought himself more\nindebted for his own mental culture, than Plato, or whom he more\nfrequently recommended to young students. I can bear similar testimony\nin regard to myself. The Socratic method, of which the Platonic\ndialogues are the chief example, is unsurpassed as a discipline for\ncorrecting the errors, and clearing up the confusions incident to the\n_intellectus sibi permissus_, the understanding which has made up all\nits bundles of associations under the guidance of popular phraseology.\nThe close, searching _elenchus_ by which the man of vague generalities\nis constrained either to express his meaning to himself in definite\nterms, or to confess that he does not know what he is talking about;\nthe perpetual testing of all general statements by particular instances;\nthe siege in form which is laid to the meaning of large abstract terms,\nby fixing upon some still larger class-name which includes that and more,\nand dividing down to the thing sought--marking out its limits and\ndefinition by a series of accurately drawn distinctions between it and\neach of the cognate objects which are successively parted off from it\n--all this, as an education for precise thinking, is inestimable, and\nall this, even at that age, took such hold of me that it became part of\nmy own mind. I have felt ever since that the title of Platonist belongs\nby far better right to those who have been nourished in and have\nendeavoured to practise Plato's mode of investigation, than to those\nwho are distinguished only by the adoption of certain dogmatical\nconclusions, drawn mostly from the least intelligible of his works, and\nwhich the character of his mind and writings makes it uncertain whether\nhe himself regarded as anything more than poetic fancies, or philosophic\nconjectures.\n\nIn going through Plato and Demosthenes, since I could now read these\nauthors, as far as the language was concerned, with perfect ease, I\nwas not required to construe them sentence by sentence, but to read\nthem aloud to my father, answering questions when asked: but the\nparticular attention which he paid to elocution (in which his own\nexcellence was remarkable) made this reading aloud to him a most\npainful task. Of all things which he required me to do, there was none\nwhich I did so constantly ill, or in which he so perpetually lost his\ntemper with me. He had thought much on the principles of the art of\nreading, especially the most neglected part of it, the inflections of\nthe voice, or _modulation_, as writers on elocution call it (in\ncontrast with _articulation_ on the one side, and _expression_ on the\nother), and had reduced it to rules, grounded on the logical analysis\nof a sentence. These rules he strongly impressed upon me, and took me\nseverely to task for every violation of them: but I even then remarked\n(though I did not venture to make the remark to him) that though he\nreproached me when I read a sentence ill, and _told_ me how I ought to\nhave read it, he never by reading it himself, _showed_ me how it ought\nto be read. A defect running through his otherwise admirable modes of\ninstruction, as it did through all his modes of thought, was that of\ntrusting too much to the intelligibleness of the abstract, when not\nembodied in the concrete. It was at a much later period of my youth,\nwhen practising elocution by myself, or with companions of my own age,\nthat I for the first time understood the object of his rules, and saw\nthe psychological grounds of them. At that time I and others followed\nout the subject into its ramifications, and could have composed a very\nuseful treatise, grounded on my father's principles. He himself left\nthose principles and rules unwritten. I regret that when my mind was\nfull of the subject, from systematic practice, I did not put them, and\nour improvements of them, into a formal shape.\n\nA book which contributed largely to my education, in the best sense of\nthe term, was my father's _History of India_. It was published in the\nbeginning of 1818. During the year previous, while it was passing\nthrough the press, I used to read the proof sheets to him; or rather,\nI read the manuscript to him while he corrected the proofs. The number\nof new ideas which I received from this remarkable book, and the\nimpulse and stimulus as well as guidance given to my thoughts by its\ncriticism and disquisitions on society and civilization in the Hindoo\npart, on institutions and the acts of governments in the English part,\nmade my early familiarity with it eminently useful to my subsequent\nprogress. And though I can perceive deficiencies in it now as compared\nwith a perfect standard, I still think it, if not the most, one of the\nmost instructive histories ever written, and one of the books from\nwhich most benefit may be derived by a mind in the course of making up\nits opinions.\n\nThe Preface, among the most characteristic of my father's writings, as\nwell as the richest in materials of thought, gives a picture which may\nbe entirely depended on, of the sentiments and expectations with which\nhe wrote the History. Saturated as the book is with the opinions and\nmodes of judgment of a democratic radicalism then regarded as extreme;\nand treating with a severity, at that time most unusual, the English\nConstitution, the English law, and all parties and classes who\npossessed any considerable influence in the country; he may have\nexpected reputation, but certainly not advancement in life, from its\npublication; nor could he have supposed that it would raise up anything\nbut enemies for him in powerful quarters: least of all could he have\nexpected favour from the East India Company, to whose commercial\nprivileges he was unqualifiedly hostile, and on the acts of whose\ngovernment he had made so many severe comments: though, in various parts\nof his book, he bore a testimony in their favour, which he felt to be\ntheir just due, namely, that no Government had on the whole given so much\nproof, to the extent of its lights, of good intention towards its subjects;\nand that if the acts of any other Government had the light of publicity\nas completely let in upon them, they would, in all probability, still less\nbear scrutiny.\n\nOn learning, however, in the spring of 1819, about a year after the\npublication of the History, that the East India Directors desired to\nstrengthen the part of their home establishment which was employed in\ncarrying on the correspondence with India, my father declared himself\na candidate for that employment, and, to the credit of the Directors,\nsuccessfully. He was appointed one of the Assistants of the Examiner\nof India Correspondence; officers whose duty it was to prepare drafts\nof despatches to India, for consideration by the Directors, in the\nprincipal departments of administration. In this office, and in that\nof Examiner, which he subsequently attained, the influence which his\ntalents, his reputation, and his decision of character gave him, with\nsuperiors who really desired the good government of India, enabled him\nto a great extent to throw into his drafts of despatches, and to carry\nthrough the ordeal of the Court of Directors and Board of Control,\nwithout having their force much weakened, his real opinions on Indian\nsubjects. In his History he had set forth, for the first time, many of\nthe true principles of Indian administration: and his despatches,\nfollowing his History, did more than had ever been done before to\npromote the improvement of India, and teach Indian officials to\nunderstand their business. If a selection of them were published, they\nwould, I am convinced, place his character as a practical statesman\nfully on a level with his eminence as a speculative writer.\n\nThis new employment of his time caused no relaxation in his attention to\nmy education. It was in this same year, 1819, that he took me through a\ncomplete course of political economy. His loved and intimate friend,\nRicardo, had shortly before published the book which formed so great an\nepoch in political economy; a book which would never have been published\nor written, but for the entreaty and strong encouragement of my father;\nfor Ricardo, the most modest of men, though firmly convinced of the\ntruth of his doctrines, deemed himself so little capable of doing them\njustice in exposition and expression, that he shrank from the idea of\npublicity. The same friendly encouragement induced Ricardo, a year or\ntwo later, to become a member of the House of Commons; where, during the\nremaining years of his life, unhappily cut short in the full vigour of\nhis intellect, he rendered so much service to his and my father's\nopinions both on political economy and on other subjects.\n\nThough Ricardo's great work was already in print, no didactic treatise\nembodying its doctrines, in a manner fit for learners, had yet appeared.\nMy father, therefore, commenced instructing me in the science by a sort\nof lectures, which he delivered to me in our walks. He expounded each\nday a portion of the subject, and I gave him next day a written account\nof it, which he made me rewrite over and over again until it was clear,\nprecise, and tolerably complete. In this manner I went through the whole\nextent of the science; and the written outline of it which resulted from\nmy daily _compte rendu_, served him afterwards as notes from which to\nwrite his _Elements of Political Economy_. After this I read Ricardo,\ngiving an account daily of what I read, and discussing, in the best\nmanner I could, the collateral points which offered themselves in our\nprogress.\n\nOn Money, as the most intricate part of the subject, he made me read\nin the same manner Ricardo's admirable pamphlets, written during what\nwas called the Bullion controversy; to these succeeded Adam Smith; and\nin this reading it was one of my father's main objects to make me\napply to Smith's more superficial view of political economy, the\nsuperior lights of Ricardo, and detect what was fallacious in Smith's\narguments, or erroneous in any of his conclusions. Such a mode of\ninstruction was excellently calculated to form a thinker; but it\nrequired to be worked by a thinker, as close and vigorous as my\nfather. The path was a thorny one, even to him, and I am sure it was\nso to me, notwithstanding the strong interest I took in the subject.\nHe was often, and much beyond reason, provoked by my failures in cases\nwhere success could not have been expected; but in the main his method\nwas right, and it succeeded. I do not believe that any scientific\nteaching ever was more thorough, or better fitted for training the\nfaculties, than the mode in which logic and political economy were\ntaught to me by my father. Striving, even in an exaggerated degree,\nto call forth the activity of my faculties, by making me find out\neverything for myself, he gave his explanations not before, but after,\nI had felt the full force of the difficulties; and not only gave me an\naccurate knowledge of these two great subjects, as far as they were\nthen understood, but made me a thinker on both. I thought for myself\nalmost from the first, and occasionally thought differently from him,\nthough for a long time only on minor points, and making his opinion\nthe ultimate standard. At a later period I even occasionally convinced\nhim, and altered his opinion on some points of detail: which I state\nto his honour, not my own. It at once exemplifies his perfect candour,\nand the real worth of his method of teaching.\n\nAt this point concluded what can properly be called my lessons: when I\nwas about fourteen I left England for more than a year; and after my\nreturn, though my studies went on under my father's general direction,\nhe was no longer my schoolmaster. I shall therefore pause here, and\nturn back to matters of a more general nature connected with the part\nof my life and education included in the preceding reminiscences.\n\nIn the course of instruction which I have partially retraced, the\npoint most superficially apparent is the great effort to give, during\nthe years of childhood, an amount of knowledge in what are considered\nthe higher branches of education, which is seldom acquired (if\nacquired at all) until the age of manhood. The result of the experiment\nshows the ease with which this may be done, and places in a strong\nlight the wretched waste of so many precious years as are spent in\nacquiring the modicum of Latin and Greek commonly taught to schoolboys;\na waste which has led so many educational reformers to entertain the\nill-judged proposal of discarding these languages altogether from\ngeneral education. If I had been by nature extremely quick of\napprehension, or had possessed a very accurate and retentive memory,\nor were of a remarkably active and energetic character, the trial\nwould not be conclusive; but in all these natural gifts I am rather\nbelow than above par; what I could do, could assuredly be done by any\nboy or girl of average capacity and healthy physical constitution: and\nif I have accomplished anything, I owe it, among other fortunate\ncircumstances, to the fact that through the early training bestowed on\nme by my father, I started, I may fairly say, with an advantage of a\nquarter of a century over my contemporaries.\n\nThere was one cardinal point in this training, of which I have already\ngiven some indication, and which, more than anything else, was the\ncause of whatever good it effected. Most boys or youths who have had\nmuch knowledge drilled into them, have their mental capacities not\nstrengthened, but overlaid by it. They are crammed with mere facts,\nand with the opinions or phrases of other people, and these are\naccepted as a substitute for the power to form opinions of their own;\nand thus the sons of eminent fathers, who have spared no pains in\ntheir education, so often grow up mere parroters of what they have\nlearnt, incapable of using their minds except in the furrows traced\nfor them. Mine, however, was not an education of cram. My father never\npermitted anything which I learnt to degenerate into a mere exercise\nof memory. He strove to make the understanding not only go along with\nevery step of the teaching, but, if possible, precede it. Anything\nwhich could be found out by thinking I never was told, until I had\nexhausted my efforts to find it out for myself. As far as I can trust\nmy remembrance, I acquitted myself very lamely in this department; my\nrecollection of such matters is almost wholly of failures, hardly ever\nof success. It is true the failures were often in things in which\nsuccess, in so early a stage of my progress, was almost impossible.\nI remember at some time in my thirteenth year, on my happening to\nuse the word idea, he asked me what an idea was; and expressed some\ndispleasure at my ineffectual efforts to define the word: I recollect\nalso his indignation at my using the common expression that something\nwas true in theory but required correction in practice; and how, after\nmaking me vainly strive to define the word theory, he explained its\nmeaning, and showed the fallacy of the vulgar form of speech which I\nhad used; leaving me fully persuaded that in being unable to give a\ncorrect definition of Theory, and in speaking of it as something which\nmight be at variance with practice, I had shown unparalleled ignorance.\nIn this he seems, and perhaps was, very unreasonable; but I think, only\nin being angry at my failure. A pupil from whom nothing is ever demanded\nwhich he cannot do, never does all he can.\n\nOne of the evils most liable to attend on any sort of early proficiency,\nand which often fatally blights its promise, my father most anxiously\nguarded against. This was self-conceit. He kept me, with extreme\nvigilance, out of the way of hearing myself praised, or of being led\nto make self-flattering comparisons between myself and others. From\nhis own intercourse with me I could derive none but a very humble\nopinion of myself; and the standard of comparison he always held up to\nme, was not what other people did, but what a man could and ought to\ndo. He completely succeeded in preserving me from the sort of influences\nhe so much dreaded. I was not at all aware that my attainments were\nanything unusual at my age. If I accidentally had my attention drawn to\nthe fact that some other boy knew less than myself--which happened less\noften than might be imagined--I concluded, not that I knew much, but that\nhe, for some reason or other, knew little, or that his knowledge was of\na different kind from mine. My state of mind was not humility, but neither\nwas it arrogance. I never thought of saying to myself, I am, or I can do,\nso and so. I neither estimated myself highly nor lowly: I did not estimate\nmyself at all. If I thought anything about myself, it was that I was\nrather backward in my studies, since I always found myself so, in\ncomparison with what my father expected from me. I assert this with\nconfidence, though it was not the impression of various persons who saw\nme in my childhood. They, as I have since found, thought me greatly and\ndisagreeably self-conceited; probably because I was disputatious, and did\nnot scruple to give direct contradictions to things which I heard said.\nI suppose I acquired this bad habit from having been encouraged in an\nunusual degree to talk on matters beyond my age, and with grown persons,\nwhile I never had inculcated on me the usual respect for them. My father\ndid not correct this ill-breeding and impertinence, probably from not\nbeing aware of it, for I was always too much in awe of him to be otherwise\nthan extremely subdued and quiet in his presence. Yet with all this I had\nno notion of any superiority in myself; and well was it for me that I had\nnot. I remember the very place in Hyde Park where, in my fourteenth year,\non the eve of leaving my father's house for a long absence, he told me\nthat I should find, as I got acquainted with new people, that I had been\ntaught many things which youths of my age did not commonly know; and that\nmany persons would be disposed to talk to me of this, and to compliment\nme upon it. What other things he said on this topic I remember very\nimperfectly; but he wound up by saying, that whatever I knew more than\nothers, could not be ascribed to any merit in me, but to the very unusual\nadvantage which had fallen to my lot, of having a father who was able to\nteach me, and willing to give the necessary trouble and time; that it was\nno matter of praise to me, if I knew more than those who had not had a\nsimilar advantage, but the deepest disgrace to me if I did not. I have a\ndistinct remembrance, that the suggestion thus for the first time made to\nme, that I knew more than other youths who were considered well educated,\nwas to me a piece of information, to which, as to all other things which\nmy father told me, I gave implicit credence, but which did not at all\nimpress me as a personal matter. I felt no disposition to glorify myself\nupon the circumstance that there were other persons who did not know what\nI knew; nor had I ever flattered myself that my acquirements, whatever\nthey might be, were any merit of mine: but, now when my attention was\ncalled to the subject, I felt that what my father had said respecting my\npeculiar advantages was exactly the truth and common sense of the matter,\nand it fixed my opinion and feeling from that time forward.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nMORAL INFLUENCES IN EARLY YOUTH. MY FATHER'S CHARACTER AND OPINIONS\n\n\nIn my education, as in that of everyone, the moral influences, which\nare so much more important than all others, are also the most\ncomplicated, and the most difficult to specify with any approach to\ncompleteness. Without attempting the hopeless task of detailing the\ncircumstances by which, in this respect, my early character may have\nbeen shaped, I shall confine myself to a few leading points, which\nform an indispensable part of any true account of my education.\n\nI was brought up from the first without any religious belief, in the\nordinary acceptation of the term. My father, educated in the creed of\nScotch Presbyterianism, had by his own studies and reflections been\nearly led to reject not only the belief in Revelation, but the\nfoundations of what is commonly called Natural Religion. I have heard\nhim say, that the turning point of his mind on the subject was reading\nButler's _Analogy_. That work, of which he always continued to speak\nwith respect, kept him, as he said, for some considerable time, a\nbeliever in the divine authority of Christianity; by proving to him\nthat whatever are the difficulties in believing that the Old and New\nTestaments proceed from, or record the acts of, a perfectly wise and\ngood being, the same and still greater difficulties stand in the way\nof the belief, that a being of such a character can have been the\nMaker of the universe. He considered Butler's argument as conclusive\nagainst the only opponents for whom it was intended. Those who admit\nan omnipotent as well as perfectly just and benevolent maker and ruler\nof such a world as this, can say little against Christianity but what\ncan, with at least equal force, be retorted against themselves.\nFinding, therefore, no halting place in Deism, he remained in a state\nof perplexity, until, doubtless after many struggles, he yielded to\nthe conviction, that concerning the origin of things nothing whatever\ncan be known. This is the only correct statement of his opinion; for\ndogmatic atheism he looked upon as absurd; as most of those, whom the\nworld has considered Atheists, have always done. These particulars are\nimportant, because they show that my father's rejection of all that is\ncalled religious belief, was not, as many might suppose, primarily a\nmatter of logic and evidence: the grounds of it were moral, still more\nthan intellectual. He found it impossible to believe that a world so\nfull of evil was the work of an Author combining infinite power with\nperfect goodness and righteousness. His intellect spurned the\nsubtleties by which men attempt to blind themselves to this open\ncontradiction. The Sabaean, or Manichaean theory of a Good and an Evil\nPrinciple, struggling against each other for the government of the\nuniverse, he would not have equally condemned; and I have heard him\nexpress surprise, that no one revived it in our time. He would have\nregarded it as a mere hypothesis; but he would have ascribed to it no\ndepraving influence. As it was, his aversion to religion, in the sense\nusually attached to the term, was of the same kind with that of\nLucretius: he regarded it with the feelings due not to a mere mental\ndelusion, but to a great moral evil. He looked upon it as the greatest\nenemy of morality: first, by setting up fictitious excellences--belief\nin creeds, devotional feelings, and ceremonies, not connected with the\ngood of human-kind--and causing these to be accepted as substitutes\nfor genuine virtues: but above all, by radically vitiating the\nstandard of morals; making it consist in doing the will of a being,\non whom it lavishes indeed all the phrases of adulation, but whom in\nsober truth it depicts as eminently hateful. I have a hundred times\nheard him say that all ages and nations have represented their gods as\nwicked, in a constantly increasing progression; that mankind have gone\non adding trait after trait till they reached the most perfect\nconception of wickedness which the human mind can devise, and have\ncalled this God, and prostrated themselves before it. This _ne plus\nultra_ of wickedness he considered to be embodied in what is commonly\npresented to mankind as the creed of Christianity. Think (he used to\nsay) of a being who would make a Hell--who would create the human race\nwith the infallible foreknowledge, and therefore with the intention,\nthat the great majority of them were to be consigned to horrible and\neverlasting torment. The time, I believe, is drawing near when this\ndreadful conception of an object of worship will be no longer\nidentified with Christianity; and when all persons, with any sense of\nmoral good and evil, will look upon it with the same indignation with\nwhich my father regarded it. My father was as well aware as anyone\nthat Christians do not, in general, undergo the demoralizing\nconsequences which seem inherent in such a creed, in the manner or\nto the extent which might have been expected from it. The same\nslovenliness of thought, and subjection of the reason to fears,\nwishes, and affections, which enable them to accept a theory involving\na contradiction in terms, prevents them from perceiving the logical\nconsequences of the theory. Such is the facility with which mankind\nbelieve at one and the same time things inconsistent with one another,\nand so few are those who draw from what they receive as truths, any\nconsequences but those recommended to them by their feelings, that\nmultitudes have held the undoubting belief in an Omnipotent Author\nof Hell, and have nevertheless identified that being with the best\nconception they were able to form of perfect goodness. Their worship\nwas not paid to the demon which such a being as they imagined would\nreally be, but to their own ideal of excellence. The evil is, that\nsuch a belief keeps the ideal wretchedly low; and opposes the most\nobstinate resistance to all thought which has a tendency to raise it\nhigher. Believers shrink from every train of ideas which would lead\nthe mind to a clear conception and an elevated standard of excellence,\nbecause they feel (even when they do not distinctly see) that such a\nstandard would conflict with many of the dispensations of nature, and\nwith much of what they are accustomed to consider as the Christian\ncreed. And thus morality continues a matter of blind tradition, with\nno consistent principle, nor even any consistent feeling, to guide it.\n\nIt would have been wholly inconsistent with my father's ideas of duty,\nto allow me to acquire impressions contrary to his convictions and\nfeelings respecting religion: and he impressed upon me from the first,\nthat the manner in which the world came into existence was a subject\non which nothing was known: that the question, \"Who made me?\" cannot\nbe answered, because we have no experience or authentic information\nfrom which to answer it; and that any answer only throws the difficulty\na step further back, since the question immediately presents itself,\n\"Who made God?\" He, at the same time, took care that I should be\nacquainted with what had been thought by mankind on these impenetrable\nproblems. I have mentioned at how early an age he made me a reader of\necclesiastical history; and he taught me to take the strongest interest\nin the Reformation, as the great and decisive contest against priestly\ntyranny for liberty of thought.\n\nI am thus one of the very few examples, in this country, of one who has\nnot thrown off religious belief, but never had it: I grew up in a\nnegative state with regard to it. I looked upon the modern exactly as\nI did upon the ancient religion, as something which in no way concerned\nme. It did not seem to me more strange that English people should believe\nwhat I did not, than that the men I read of in Herodotus should have done\nso. History had made the variety of opinions among mankind a fact familiar\nto me, and this was but a prolongation of that fact. This point in my\nearly education had, however, incidentally one bad consequence deserving\nnotice. In giving me an opinion contrary to that of the world, my father\nthought it necessary to give it as one which could not prudently be avowed\nto the world. This lesson of keeping my thoughts to myself, at that early\nage, was attended with some moral disadvantages; though my limited\nintercourse with strangers, especially such as were likely to speak to\nme on religion, prevented me from being placed in the alternative of\navowal or hypocrisy. I remember two occasions in my boyhood, on which I\nfelt myself in this alternative, and in both cases I avowed my disbelief\nand defended it. My opponents were boys, considerably older than myself:\none of them I certainly staggered at the time, but the subject was never\nrenewed between us: the other who was surprised and somewhat shocked, did\nhis best to convince me for some time, without effect.\n\nThe great advance in liberty of discussion, which is one of the most\nimportant differences between the present time and that of my childhood,\nhas greatly altered the moralities of this question; and I think that\nfew men of my father's intellect and public spirit, holding with such\nintensity of moral conviction as he did, unpopular opinions on religion,\nor on any other of the great subjects of thought, would now either\npractise or inculcate the withholding of them from the world, unless in\nthe cases, becoming fewer every day, in which frankness on these subjects\nwould either risk the loss of means of subsistence, or would amount to\nexclusion from some sphere of usefulness peculiarly suitable to the\ncapacities of the individual. On religion in particular the time appears\nto me to have come when it is the duty of all who, being qualified in\npoint of knowledge, have on mature consideration satisfied themselves\nthat the current opinions are not only false but hurtful, to make their\ndissent known; at least, if they are among those whose station or\nreputation gives their opinion a chance of being attended to. Such an\navowal would put an end, at once and for ever, to the vulgar prejudice,\nthat what is called, very improperly, unbelief, is connected with any\nbad qualities either of mind or heart. The world would be astonished if\nit knew how great a proportion of its brightest ornaments--of those most\ndistinguished even in popular estimation for wisdom and virtue--are\ncomplete sceptics in religion; many of them refraining from avowal, less\nfrom personal considerations than from a conscientious, though now in my\nopinion a most mistaken, apprehension, lest by speaking out what would\ntend to weaken existing beliefs, and by consequence (as they suppose)\nexisting restraints, they should do harm instead of good.\n\nOf unbelievers (so called) as well as of believers, there are many\nspecies, including almost every variety of moral type. But the best\namong them, as no one who has had opportunities of really knowing them\nwill hesitate to affirm, are more genuinely religious, in the best\nsense of the word religion, than those who exclusively arrogate to\nthemselves the title. The liberality of the age, or in other words the\nweakening of the obstinate prejudice which makes men unable to see\nwhat is before their eyes because it is contrary to their expectations,\nhas caused it be very commonly admitted that a Deist may be truly\nreligious: but if religion stands for any graces of character and not\nfor mere dogma, the assertion may equally be made of many whose belief\nis far short of Deism. Though they may think the proof incomplete that\nthe universe is a work of design, and though they assuredly disbelieve\nthat it can have an Author and Governor who is _absolute_ in power as\nwell as perfect in goodness, they have that which constitutes the\nprincipal worth of all religions whatever, an ideal conception of a\nPerfect Being, to which they habitually refer as the guide of their\nconscience; and this ideal of Good is usually far nearer to perfection\nthan the objective Deity of those who think themselves obliged to find\nabsolute goodness in the author of a world so crowded with suffering\nand so deformed by injustice as ours.\n\nMy father's moral convictions, wholly dissevered from religion, were\nvery much of the character of those of the Greek philosophers; and\nwere delivered with the force and decision which characterized all\nthat came from him. Even at the very early age at which I read with\nhim the _Memorabilia_ of Xenophon, I imbibed from that work and from\nhis comments a deep respect for the character of Socrates; who stood\nin my mind as a model of ideal excellence: and I well remember how my\nfather at that time impressed upon me the lesson of the \"Choice of\nHercules.\" At a somewhat later period the lofty moral standard\nexhibited in the writings of Plato operated upon me with great force.\nMy father's moral inculcations were at all times mainly those of the\n\"Socratici viri\"; justice, temperance (to which he gave a very\nextended application), veracity, perseverance, readiness to encounter\npain and especially labour; regard for the public good; estimation of\npersons according to their merits, and of things according to their\nintrinsic usefulness; a life of exertion in contradiction to one of\nself-indulgent ease and sloth. These and other moralities he conveyed\nin brief sentences, uttered as occasion arose, of grave exhortation,\nor stern reprobation and contempt.\n\nBut though direct moral teaching does much, indirect does more; and\nthe effect my father produced on my character, did not depend solely\non what he said or did with that direct object, but also, and still\nmore, on what manner of man he was.\n\nIn his views of life he partook of the character of the Stoic, the\nEpicurean, and the Cynic, not in the modern but the ancient sense of\nthe word. In his personal qualities the Stoic predominated. His\nstandard of morals was Epicurean, inasmuch as it was utilitarian,\ntaking as the exclusive test of right and wrong, the tendency of\nactions to produce pleasure or pain. But he had (and this was the\nCynic element) scarcely any belief in pleasure; at least in his later\nyears, of which alone, on this point, I can speak confidently. He was\nnot insensible to pleasures; but he deemed very few of them worth the\nprice which, at least in the present state of society, must be paid\nfor them. The greater number of miscarriages in life he considered to\nbe attributable to the overvaluing of pleasures. Accordingly,\ntemperance, in the large sense intended by the Greek philosophers\n--stopping short at the point of moderation in all indulgences--was\nwith him, as with them, almost the central point of educational\nprecept. His inculcations of this virtue fill a large place in my\nchildish remembrances. He thought human life a poor thing at best,\nafter the freshness of youth and of unsatisfied curiosity had gone by.\nThis was a topic on which he did not often speak, especially, it may\nbe supposed, in the presence of young persons: but when he did, it\nwas with an air of settled and profound conviction. He would sometimes\nsay that if life were made what it might be, by good government and\ngood education, it would be worth having: but he never spoke with\nanything like enthusiasm even of that possibility. He never varied in\nrating intellectual enjoyments above all others, even in value as\npleasures, independently of their ulterior benefits. The pleasures of\nthe benevolent affections he placed high in the scale; and used to\nsay, that he had never known a happy old man, except those who were\nable to live over again in the pleasures of the young. For passionate\nemotions of all sorts, and for everything which bas been said or\nwritten in exaltation of them, he professed the greatest contempt.\nHe regarded them as a form of madness. \"The intense\" was with him a\nbye-word of scornful disapprobation. He regarded as an aberration of\nthe moral standard of modern times, compared with that of the ancients,\nthe great stress laid upon feeling. Feelings, as such, he considered\nto be no proper subjects of praise or blame. Right and wrong, good and\nbad, he regarded as qualities solely of conduct--of acts and omissions;\nthere being no feeling which may not lead, and does not frequently lead,\neither to good or to bad actions: conscience itself, the very desire to\nact right, often leading people to act wrong. Consistently carrying\nout the doctrine that the object of praise and blame should be the\ndiscouragement of wrong conduct and the encouragement of right, he\nrefused to let his praise or blame be influenced by the motive of the\nagent. He blamed as severely what he thought a bad action, when the\nmotive was a feeling of duty, as if the agents had been consciously\nevil doers. He would not have accepted as a plea in mitigation for\ninquisitors, that they sincerely believed burning heretics to be an\nobligation of conscience. But though he did not allow honesty of purpose\nto soften his disapprobation of actions, it had its full effect on his\nestimation of characters. No one prized conscientiousness and rectitude\nof intention more highly, or was more incapable of valuing any person\nin whom he did not feel assurance of it. But he disliked people quite\nas much for any other deficiency, provided he thought it equally likely\nto make them act ill. He disliked, for instance, a fanatic in any bad\ncause, as much as or more than one who adopted the same cause from\nself-interest, because he thought him even more likely to be practically\nmischievous. And thus, his aversion to many intellectual errors, or what\nhe regarded as such, partook, in a certain sense, of the character of a\nmoral feeling. All this is merely saying that he, in a degree once common,\nbut now very unusual, threw his feelings into his opinions; which truly\nit is difficult to understand how anyone who possesses much of both, can\nfail to do. None but those who do not care about opinions will confound\nthis with intolerance. Those who, having opinions which they hold to be\nimmensely important, and their contraries to be prodigiously hurtful,\nhave any deep regard for the general good, will necessarily dislike, as\na class and in the abstract, those who think wrong what they think right,\nand right what they think wrong: though they need not therefore be, nor\nwas my father, insensible to good qualities in an opponent, nor governed\nin their estimation of individuals by one general presumption, instead\nof by the whole of their character. I grant that an earnest person,\nbeing no more infallible than other men, is liable to dislike people\non account of opinions which do not merit dislike; but if he neither\nhimself does them any ill office, nor connives at its being donc by\nothers, he is not intolerant: and the forbearance which flows from a\nconscientious sense of the importance to mankind of the equal freedom\nof all opinions, is the only tolerance which is commendable, or, to the\nhighest moral order of minds, possible.\n\nIt will be admitted, that a man of the opinions, and the character,\nabove described, was likely to leave a strong moral impression on any\nmind principally formed by him, and that his moral teaching was not\nlikely to err on the side of laxity or indulgence. The element which\nwas chiefly deficient in his moral relation to his children was that\nof tenderness. I do not believe that this deficiency lay in his own\nnature. I believe him to have had much more feeling than he habitually\nshowed, and much greater capacities of feeling than were ever\ndeveloped. He resembled most Englishmen in being ashamed of the signs\nof feeling, and, by the absence of demonstration, starving the\nfeelings themselves. If we consider further that he was in the trying\nposition of sole teacher, and add to this that his temper was\nconstitutionally irritable, it is impossible not to feel true pity for\na father who did, and strove to do, so much for his children, who\nwould have so valued their affection, yet who must have been\nconstantly feeling that fear of him was drying it up at its source.\nThis was no longer the case later in life, and with his younger\nchildren. They loved him tenderly: and if I cannot say so much of\nmyself, I was always loyally devoted to him. As regards my own\neducation, I hesitate to pronounce whether I was more a loser or\ngainer by his severity. It was not such as to prevent me from having a\nhappy childhood. And I do not believe that boys can be induced to\napply themselves with vigour, and--what is so much more\ndifficult--perseverance, to dry and irksome studies, by the sole force\nof persuasion and soft words. Much must be done, and much must be\nlearnt, by children, for which rigid discipline, and known liability\nto punishment, are indispensable as means. It is, no doubt, a very\nlaudable effort, in modern teaching, to render as much as possible of\nwhat the young are required to learn, easy and interesting to them.\nBut when this principle is pushed to the length of not requiring them\nto learn anything _but_ what has been made easy and interesting, one\nof the chief objects of education is sacrificed. I rejoice in the\ndecline of the old brutal and tyrannical system of teaching, which,\nhowever, did succeed in enforcing habits of application; but the new,\nas it seems to me, is training up a race of men who will be incapable\nof doing anything which is disagreeable to them. I do not, then,\nbelieve that fear, as an element in education, can be dispensed with;\nbut I am sure that it ought not to be the main element; and when it\npredominates so much as to preclude love and confidence on the part of\nthe child to those who should be the unreservedly trusted advisers of\nafter years, and perhaps to seal up the fountains of frank and\nspontaneous communicativeness in the child's nature, it is an evil for\nwhich a large abatement must be made from the benefits, moral and\nintellectual, which may flow from any other part of the education.\n\nDuring this first period of my life, the habitual frequenters of my\nfather's house were limited to a very few persons, most of them little\nknown to the world, but whom personal worth, and more or less of\ncongeniality with at least his political opinions (not so frequently\nto be met with then as since), inclined him to cultivate; and his\nconversations with them I listened to with interest and instruction.\nMy being an habitual inmate of my father's study made me acquainted\nwith the dearest of his friends, David Ricardo, who by his benevolent\ncountenance, and kindliness of manner, was very attractive to young\npersons, and who, after I became a student of political economy,\ninvited me to his house and to walk with him in order to converse on\nthe subject. I was a more frequent visitor (from about 1817 or 1818)\nto Mr. Hume, who, born in the same part of Scotland as my father, and\nhaving been, I rather think, a younger schoolfellow or college\ncompanion of his, had on returning from India renewed their youthful\nacquaintance, and who--coming, like many others, greatly under the\ninfluence of my father's intellect and energy of character--was\ninduced partly by that influence to go into Parliament, and there\nadopt the line of conduct which has given him an honourable place in\nthe history of his country. Of Mr. Bentham I saw much more, owing to\nthe close intimacy which existed between him and my father. I do not\nknow how soon after my father's first arrival in England they became\nacquainted. But my father was the earliest Englishman of any great\nmark, who thoroughly understood, and in the main adopted, Bentham's\ngeneral views of ethics, government and law: and this was a natural\nfoundation for sympathy between them, and made them familiar\ncompanions in a period of Bentham's life during which he admitted much\nfewer visitors than was the case subsequently. At this time Mr.\nBentham passed some part of every year at Barrow Green House, in a\nbeautiful part of the Surrey Hills, a few miles from Godstone, and\nthere I each summer accompanied my father in a long visit. In 1813 Mr.\nBentham, my father, and I made an excursion, which included Oxford,\nBath and Bristol, Exeter, Plymouth, and Portsmouth. In this journey I\nsaw many things which were instructive to me, and acquired my first\ntaste for natural scenery, in the elementary form of fondness for a\n\"view.\" In the succeeding winter we moved into a house very near Mr.\nBentham's, which my father rented from him, in Queen Square,\nWestminster. From 1814 to 1817 Mr. Bentham lived during half of each\nyear at Ford Abbey, in Somersetshire (or rather in a part of\nDevonshire surrounded by Somersetshire), which intervals I had the\nadvantage of passing at that place. This sojourn was, I think, an\nimportant circumstance in my education. Nothing contributes more to\nnourish elevation of sentiments in a people, than the large and free\ncharacter of their habitations. The middle-age architecture, the\nbaronial hall, and the spacious and lofty rooms, of this fine old\nplace, so unlike the mean and cramped externals of English\nmiddle-class life, gave the sentiment of a larger and freer existence,\nand were to me a sort of poetic cultivation, aided also by the\ncharacter of the grounds in which the Abbey stood; which were _riant_\nand secluded, umbrageous, and full of the sound of falling waters.\n\nI owed another of the fortunate circumstances in my education, a\nyear's residence in France, to Mr. Bentham's brother, General Sir\nSamuel Bentham. I had seen Sir Samuel Bentham and his family at their\nhouse near Gosport in the course of the tour already mentioned (he\nbeing then Superintendent of the Dockyard at Portsmouth), and during a\nstay of a few days which they made at Ford Abbey shortly after the\nPeace, before going to live on the Continent. In 1820 they invited me\nfor a six months' visit to them in the South of France, which their\nkindness ultimately prolonged to nearly a twelvemonth. Sir Samuel\nBentham, though of a character of mind different from that of his\nillustrious brother, was a man of very considerable attainments and\ngeneral powers, with a decided genius for mechanical art. His wife, a\ndaughter of the celebrated chemist, Dr. Fordyce, was a woman of strong\nwill and decided character, much general knowledge, and great\npractical good sense of the Edgeworth kind: she was the ruling spirit\nof the household, as she deserved, and was well qualified, to be.\nTheir family consisted of one son (the eminent botanist) and three\ndaughters, the youngest about two years my senior. I am indebted to\nthem for much and various instruction, and for an almost parental\ninterest in my welfare. When I first joined them, in May, 1820, they\noccupied the Ch\u00e2teau of Pompignan (still belonging to a descendant of\nVoltaire's enemy) on the heights overlooking the plain of the Garonne\nbetween Montauban and Toulouse. I accompanied them in an excursion to\nthe Pyrenees, including a stay of some duration at Bagn\u00e8res de\nBigorre, a journey to Pau, Bayonne, and Bagn\u00e8res de Luchon, and an\nascent of the Pic du Midi de Bigorre.\n\nThis first introduction to the highest order of mountain scenery made\nthe deepest impression on me, and gave a colour to my tastes through\nlife. In October we proceeded by the beautiful mountain route of\nCastres and St. Pons, from Toulouse to Montpellier, in which last\nneighbourhood Sir Samuel had just bought the estate of Restincli\u00e8re,\nnear the foot of the singular mountain of St. Loup. During this\nresidence in France I acquired a familiar knowledge of the French\nlanguage, and acquaintance with the ordinary French literature; I took\nlessons in various bodily exercises, in none of which, however, I made\nany proficiency; and at Montpellier I attended the excellent winter\ncourses of lectures at the Facult\u00e9 des Sciences, those of M. Anglada\non chemistry, of M. Proven\u00e7al on zoology, and of a very accomplished\nrepresentative of the eighteenth century metaphysics, M. Gergonne, on\nlogic, under the name of Philosophy of the Sciences. I also went\nthrough a course of the higher mathematics under the private tuition\nof M. Lenth\u00e9ric, a professor at the Lyc\u00e9e of Montpellier. But the\ngreatest, perhaps, of the many advantages which I owed to this episode\nin my education, was that of having breathed for a whole year, the\nfree and genial atmosphere of Continental life. This advantage was not\nthe less real though I could not then estimate, nor even consciously\nfeel it. Having so little experience of English life, and the few\npeople I knew being mostly such as had public objects, of a large and\npersonally disinterested kind, at heart, I was ignorant of the low\nmoral tone of what, in England, is called society; the habit of, not\nindeed professing, but taking for granted in every mode of\nimplication, that conduct is of course always directed towards low and\npetty objects; the absence of high feelings which manifests itself by\nsneering depreciation of all demonstrations of them, and by general\nabstinence (except among a few of the stricter religionists) from\nprofessing any high principles of action at all, except in those\npreordained cases in which such profession is put on as part of the\ncostume and formalities of the occasion. I could not then know or\nestimate the difference between this manner of existence, and that of\na people like the French, whose faults, if equally real, are at all\nevents different; among whom sentiments, which by comparison at least\nmay be called elevated, are the current coin of human intercourse,\nboth in books and in private life; and though often evaporating in\nprofession, are yet kept alive in the nation at large by constant\nexercise, and stimulated by sympathy, so as to form a living and\nactive part of the existence of great numbers of persons, and to be\nrecognised and understood by all. Neither could I then appreciate the\ngeneral culture of the understanding, which results from the habitual\nexercise of the feelings, and is thus carried down into the most\nuneducated classes of several countries on the Continent, in a degree\nnot equalled in England among the so-called educated, except where an\nunusual tenderness of conscience leads to a habitual exercise of the\nintellect on questions of right and wrong. I did not know the way in\nwhich, among the ordinary English, the absence of interest in things\nof an unselfish kind, except occasionally in a special thing here and\nthere, and the habit of not speaking to others, nor much even to\nthemselves, about the things in which they do feel interest, causes\nboth their feelings and their intellectual faculties to remain\nundeveloped, or to develop themselves only in some single and very\nlimited direction; reducing them, considered as spiritual beings, to\na kind of negative existence. All these things I did not perceive till\nlong afterwards; but I even then felt, though without stating it\nclearly to myself, the contrast between the frank sociability and\namiability of French personal intercourse, and the English mode of\nexistence, in which everybody acts as if everybody else (with few, or\nno exceptions) was either an enemy or a bore. In France, it is true,\nthe bad as well as the good points, both of individual and of national\ncharacter, come more to the surface, and break out more fearlessly in\nordinary intercourse, than in England: but the general habit of the\npeople is to show, as well as to expect, friendly feeling in every one\ntowards every other, wherever there is not some positive cause for the\nopposite. In England it is only of the best bred people, in the upper\nor upper middle ranks, that anything like this can be said.\n\nIn my way through Paris, both going and returning, I passed some time\nin the house of M. Say, the eminent political economist, who was a\nfriend and correspondent of my father, having become acquainted with\nhim on a visit to England a year or two after the Peace. He was a man\nof the later period of the French Revolution, a fine specimen of the\nbest kind of French Republican, one of those who had never bent the\nknee to Bonaparte though courted by him to do so; a truly upright,\nbrave, and enlightened man. He lived a quiet and studious life, made\nhappy by warm affections, public and private. He was acquainted with\nmany of the chiefs of the Liberal party, and I saw various noteworthy\npersons while staying at this house; among whom I have pleasure in the\nrecollection of having once seen Saint-Simon, not yet the founder\neither of a philosophy or a religion, and considered only as a clever\noriginal. The chief fruit which I carried away from the society I saw,\nwas a strong and permanent interest in Continental Liberalism, of\nwhich I ever afterwards kept myself _au courant_, as much as of\nEnglish politics: a thing not at all usual in those days with\nEnglishmen, and which had a very salutary influence on my development,\nkeeping me free from the error always prevalent in England--and from\nwhich even my father, with all his superiority to prejudice, was not\nexempt--of judging universal questions by a merely English standard.\nAfter passing a few weeks at Caen with an old friend of my father's,\nI returned to England in July, 1821 and my education resumed its\nordinary course.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nLAST STAGE OF EDUCATION, AND FIRST OF SELF-EDUCATION\n\n\nFor the first year or two after my visit to France, I continued my old\nstudies, with the addition of some new ones. When I returned, my\nfather was just finishing for the press his _Elements of Political\nEconomy_, and he made me perform an exercise on the manuscript, which\nMr. Bentham practised on all his own writings, making what he called\n\"marginal contents\"; a short abstract of every paragraph, to enable\nthe writer more easily to judge of, and improve, the order of the\nideas, and the general character of the exposition. Soon after, my\nfather put into my hands Condillac's _Trait\u00e9 des Sensations_, and the\nlogical and metaphysical volumes of his _Cours d'Etudes_; the first\n(notwithstanding the superficial resemblance between Condillac's\npsychological system and my father's) quite as much for a warning as\nfor an example. I am not sure whether it was in this winter or the\nnext that I first read a history of the French Revolution. I learnt\nwith astonishment that the principles of democracy, then apparently in\nso insignificant and hopeless a minority everywhere in Europe, had\nborne all before them in France thirty years earlier, and had been the\ncreed of the nation. As may be supposed from this, I had previously a\nvery vague idea of that great commotion. I knew only that the French\nhad thrown off the absolute monarchy of Louis XIV. and XV., had put\nthe King and Queen to death, guillotined many persons, one of whom was\nLavoisier, and had ultimately fallen under the despotism of Bonaparte.\nFrom this time, as was natural, the subject took an immense hold of my\nfeelings. It allied itself with all my juvenile aspirations to the\ncharacter of a democratic champion. What had happened so lately,\nseemed as if it might easily happen again: and the most transcendent\nglory I was capable of conceiving, was that of figuring, successful or\nunsuccessful, as a Girondist in an English Convention.\n\nDuring the winter of 1821-2, Mr. John Austin, with whom at the time of\nmy visit to France my father had but lately become acquainted, kindly\nallowed me to read Roman law with him. My father, notwithstanding his\nabhorrence of the chaos of barbarism called English Law, had turned\nhis thoughts towards the bar as on the whole less ineligible for me\nthan any other profession: and these readings with Mr. Austin, who had\nmade Bentham's best ideas his own, and added much to them from other\nsources and from his own mind, were not only a valuable introduction\nto legal studies, but an important portion of general education. With\nMr. Austin I read Heineccius on the Institutes, his _Roman Antiquities_,\nand part of his exposition of the Pandects; to which was added a\nconsiderable portion of Blackstone. It was at the commencement of these\nstudies that my father, as a needful accompaniment to them, put into my\nhands Bentham's principal speculations, as interpreted to the Continent,\nand indeed to all the world, by Dumont, in the _Trait\u00e9 de L\u00e9gislation_.\nThe reading of this book was an epoch in my life; one of the turning\npoints in my mental history.\n\nMy previous education had been, in a certain sense, already a course\nof Benthamism. The Benthamic standard of \"the greatest happiness\" was\nthat which I had always been taught to apply; I was even familiar\nwith an abstract discussion of it, forming an episode in an\nunpublished dialogue on Government, written by my father on the\nPlatonic model. Yet in the first pages of Bentham it burst upon me\nwith all the force of novelty. What thus impressed me was the chapter\nin which Bentham passed judgment on the common modes of reasoning in\nmorals and legislation, deduced from phrases like \"law of nature,\"\n\"right reason,\" \"the moral sense,\" \"natural rectitude,\" and the like,\nand characterized them as dogmatism in disguise, imposing its\nsentiments upon others under cover of sounding expressions which\nconvey no reason for the sentiment, but set up the sentiment as its\nown reason. It had not struck me before, that Bentham's principle put\nan end to all this. The feeling rushed upon me, that all previous\nmoralists were superseded, and that here indeed was the commencement\nof a new era in thought. This impression was strengthened by the\nmanner in which Bentham put into scientific form the application of\nthe happiness principle to the morality of actions, by analysing the\nvarious classes and orders of their consequences. But what struck me\nat that time most of all, was the Classification of Offences, which is\nmuch more clear, compact, and imposing in Dumont's _r\u00e9daction_ than in\nthe original work of Bentham from which it was taken. Logic and the\ndialectics of Plato, which had formed so large a part of my previous\ntraining, had given me a strong relish for accurate classification.\nThis taste had been strengthened and enlightened by the study of\nbotany, on the principles of what is called the Natural Method, which\nI had taken up with great zeal, though only as an amusement, during my\nstay in France; and when I found scientific classification applied to\nthe great and complex subject of Punishable Acts, under the guidance\nof the ethical principle of Pleasurable and Painful Consequences,\nfollowed out in the method of detail introduced into these subjects by\nBentham, I felt taken up to an eminence from which I could survey a\nvast mental domain, and see stretching out into the distance\nintellectual results beyond all computation. As I proceeded further,\nthere seemed to be added to this intellectual clearness, the most\ninspiring prospects of practical improvement in human affairs. To\nBentham's general view of the construction of a body of law I was not\naltogether a stranger, having read with attention that admirable\ncompendium, my father's article on Jurisprudence: but I had read it\nwith little profit, and scarcely any interest, no doubt from its\nextremely general and abstract character, and also because it\nconcerned the form more than the substance of the _corpus juris_, the\nlogic rather than the ethics of law. But Bentham's subject was\nLegislation, of which Jurisprudence is only the formal part: and at\nevery page he seemed to open a clearer and broader conception of what\nhuman opinions and institutions ought to be, how they might be made\nwhat they ought to be, and how far removed from it they now are. When\nI laid down the last volume of the _Trait\u00e9_, I had become a different\nbeing. The \"principle of utility,\" understood as Bentham understood\nit, and applied in the manner in which he applied it through these\nthree volumes, fell exactly into its place as the keystone which held\ntogether the detached and fragmentary component parts of my knowledge\nand beliefs. It gave unity to my conceptions of things. I now had\nopinions; a creed, a doctrine, a philosophy; in one among the best\nsenses of the word, a religion; the inculcation and diffusion of which\ncould be made the principal outward purpose of a life. And I had a\ngrand conception laid before me of changes to be effected in the\ncondition of mankind through that doctrine. The _Trait\u00e9 de Legislation_\nwound up with what was to me a most impressive picture of human life as\nit would be made by such opinions and such laws as were recommended in\nthe treatise. The anticipations of practicable improvement were\nstudiously moderate, deprecating and discountenancing as reveries of\nvague enthusiasm many things which will one day seem so natural to human\nbeings, that injustice will probably be done to those who once thought\nthem chimerical. But, in my state of mind, this appearance of superiority\nto illusion added to the effect which Bentham's doctrines produced on me,\nby heightening the impression of mental power, and the vista of improvement\nwhich he did open was sufficiently large and brilliant to light up my life,\nas well as to give a definite shape to my aspirations.\n\nAfter this I read, from time to time, the most important of the other\nworks of Bentham which had then seen the light, either as written by\nhimself or as edited by Dumont. This was my private reading: while,\nunder my father's direction, my studies were carried into the higher\nbranches of analytic psychology. I now read Locke's _Essay_, and wrote\nout an account of it, consisting of a complete abstract of every\nchapter, with such remarks as occurred to me; which was read by, or\n(I think) to, my father, and discussed throughout. I performed the same\nprocess with _Helvetius de L'Esprit_, which I read of my own choice.\nThis preparation of abstracts, subject to my father's censorship, was\nof great service to me, by compelling precision in conceiving and\nexpressing psychological doctrines, whether accepted as truths or only\nregarded as the opinion of others. After Helvetius, my father made me\nstudy what he deemed the really master-production in the philosophy\nof mind, Hartley's _Observations on Man_. This book, though it did\nnot, like the _Trait\u00e9 de L\u00e9gislation_, give a new colour to my\nexistence, made a very similar impression on me in regard to its\nimmediate subject. Hartley's explanation, incomplete as in many points\nit is, of the more complex mental phenomena by the law of association,\ncommended itself to me at once as a real analysis, and made me feel by\ncontrast the insufficiency of the merely verbal generalizations of\nCondillac, and even of the instructive gropings and feelings about for\npsychological explanations, of Locke. It was at this very time that my\nfather commenced writing his _Analysis_ of the Mind, which carried\nHartley's mode of explaining the mental phenomena to so much greater\nlength and depth. He could only command the concentration of thought\nnecessary for this work, during the complete leisure of his holiday\nfor a month or six weeks annually: and he commenced it in the summer\nof 1822, in the first holiday he passed at Dorking; in which\nneighbourhood, from that time to the end of his life, with the\nexception of two years, he lived, as far as his official duties\npermitted, for six months of every year. He worked at the _Analysis_\nduring several successive vacations, up to the year 1829, when it was\npublished, and allowed me to read the manuscript, portion by portion,\nas it advanced. The other principal English writers on mental\nphilosophy I read as I felt inclined, particularly Berkeley, Hume's\n_Essays_, Reid, Dugald Stewart and Brown on Cause and Effect. Brown's\n_Lectures_ I did not read until two or three years later, nor at that\ntime had my father himself read them.\n\nAmong the works read in the course of this year, which contributed\nmaterially to my development, I owe it to mention a book (written on\nthe foundation of some of Bentham's manuscripts and published under\nthe pseudonyme of Philip Beauchamp) entitled _Analysis of the Influence\nof Natural Religion on the Temporal Happiness of Mankind_. This was an\nexamination not of the truth, but of the usefulness of religious belief,\nin the most general sense, apart from the peculiarities of any special\nrevelation; which, of all the parts of the discussion concerning\nreligion, is the most important in this age, in which real belief in\nany religious doctrine is feeble and precarious, but the opinion of\nits necessity for moral and social purposes almost universal; and when\nthose who reject revelation, very generally take refuge in an\noptimistic Deism, a worship of the order of Nature, and the supposed\ncourse of Providence, at least as full of contradictions, and\nperverting to the moral sentiments, as any of the forms of\nChristianity, if only it is as completely realized. Yet very little,\nwith any claim to a philosophical character, has been written by\nsceptics against the usefulness of this form of belief. The volume\nbearing the name of Philip Beauchamp had this for its special object.\nHaving been shown to my father in manuscript, it was put into my hands\nby him, and I made a marginal analysis of it as I had done of the\n_Elements of Political Economy_. Next to the Trait\u00e9 de L\u00e9gislation_,\nit was one of the books which by the searching character of its\nanalysis produced the greatest effect upon me. On reading it lately\nafter an interval of many years, I find it to have some of the defects\nas well as the merits of the Benthamic modes of thought, and to\ncontain, as I now think, many weak arguments, but with a great\noverbalance of sound ones, and much good material for a more\ncompletely philosophic and conclusive treatment of the subject.\n\nI have now, I believe, mentioned all the books which had any\nconsiderable effect on my early mental development. From this point\nI began to carry on my intellectual cultivation by writing still more\nthan by reading. In the summer of 1822 I wrote my first argumentative\nessay. I remember very little about it, except that it was an attack\non what I regarded as the aristocratic prejudice, that the rich were,\nor were likely to be, superior in moral qualities to the poor. My\nperformance was entirely argumentative, without any of the declamation\nwhich the subject would admit of, and might be expected to suggest to\na young writer. In that department, however, I was, and remained, very\ninapt. Dry argument was the only thing I could, manage, or willingly\nattempted; though passively I was very susceptible to the effect of\nall composition, whether in the form of poetry or oratory, which\nappealed to the feelings on any basis of reason. My father, who knew\nnothing of this essay until it was finished, was well satisfied, and,\nas I learnt from others, even pleased with it; but, perhaps from a\ndesire to promote the exercise of other mental faculties than the\npurely logical, he advised me to make my next exercise in composition\none of the oratorical kind; on which suggestion, availing myself of\nmy familiarity with Greek history and ideas, and with the Athenian\norators, I wrote two speeches, one an accusation, the other a defence\nof Pericles, on a supposed impeachment for not marching out to fight\nthe Lacedemonians on their invasion of Attica. After this I continued\nto write papers on subjects often very much beyond my capacity, but\nwith great benefit both from the exercise itself, and from the\ndiscussions which it led to with my father.\n\nI had now also begun to converse, on general subjects, with the\ninstructed men with whom I came in contact: and the opportunities of\nsuch contact naturally became more numerous. The two friends of my\nfather from whom I derived most, and with whom I most associated, were\nMr. Grote and Mr. John Austin. The acquaintance of both with my father\nwas recent, but had ripened rapidly into intimacy. Mr. Grote was\nintroduced to my father by Mr. Ricardo, I think in 1819 (being then\nabout twenty-five years old), and sought assiduously his society and\nconversation. Already a highly instructed man, he was yet, by the side\nof my father, a tyro in the great subjects of human opinion; but he\nrapidly seized on my father's best ideas; and in the department of\npolitical opinion he made himself known as early as 1820, by a\npamphlet in defence of Radical Reform, in reply to a celebrated\narticle by Sir James Mackintosh, then lately published in he\n_Edinburgh Review_. Mr. Grote's father, the banker, was, I believe,\na thorough Tory, and his mother intensely Evangelical; so that for\nhis liberal opinions he was in no way indebted to home influences.\nBut, unlike most persons who have the prospect of being rich by\ninheritance, he had, though actively engaged in the business of\nbanking, devoted a great portion of time to philosophic studies; and\nhis intimacy with my father did much to decide the character of the\nnext stage in his mental progress. Him I often visited, and my\nconversations with him on political, moral, and philosophical subjects\ngave me, in addition to much valuable instruction, all the pleasure\nand benefit of sympathetic communion with a man of the high\nintellectual and moral eminence which his life and writings have since\nmanifested to the world.\n\nMr. Austin, who was four or five years older than Mr. Grote, was the\neldest son of a retired miller in Suffolk, who had made money by\ncontracts during the war, and who must have been a man of remarkable\nqualities, as I infer from the fact that all his sons were of more\nthan common ability and all eminently gentlemen. The one with whom we\nare now concerned, and whose writings on jurisprudence have made him\ncelebrated, was for some time in the army, and served in Sicily under\nLord William Bentinck. After the Peace he sold his commission and\nstudied for the bar, to which he had been called for some time before\nmy father knew him. He was not, like Mr. Grote, to any extent, a pupil\nof my father, but he had attained, by reading and thought, a\nconsiderable number of the same opinions, modified by his own very\ndecided individuality of character. He was a man of great intellectual\npowers, which in conversation appeared at their very best; from the\nvigour and richness of expression with which, under the excitement of\ndiscussion, he was accustomed to maintain some view or other of most\ngeneral subjects; and from an appearance of not only strong, but\ndeliberate and collected will; mixed with a certain bitterness, partly\nderived from temperament, and partly from the general cast of his\nfeelings and reflections. The dissatisfaction with life and the world,\nfelt more or less in the present state of society and intellect by\nevery discerning and highly conscientious mind, gave in his case a\nrather melancholy tinge to the character, very natural to those whose\npassive moral susceptibilities are more than proportioned to their\nactive energies. For it must be said, that the strength of will of\nwhich his manner seemed to give such strong assurance, expended itself\nprincipally in manner. With great zeal for human improvement, a strong\nsense of duty, and capacities and acquirements the extent of which is\nproved by the writings he has left, he hardly ever completed any\nintellectual task of magnitude. He had so high a standard of what\nought to be done, so exaggerated a sense of deficiencies in his own\nperformances, and was so unable to content himself with the amount of\nelaboration sufficient for the occasion and the purpose, that he not\nonly spoilt much of his work for ordinary use by overlabouring it, but\nspent so much time and exertion in superfluous study and thought, that\nwhen his task ought to have been completed, he had generally worked\nhimself into an illness, without having half finished what he\nundertook. From this mental infirmity (of which he is not the sole\nexample among the accomplished and able men whom I have known),\ncombined with liability to frequent attacks of disabling though not\ndangerous ill-health, he accomplished, through life, little in\ncomparison with what he seemed capable of; but what he did produce is\nheld in the very highest estimation by the most competent judges; and,\nlike Coleridge, he might plead as a set-off that he had been to many\npersons, through his conversation, a source not only of much\ninstruction but of great elevation of character. On me his influence\nwas most salutary. It was moral in the best sense. He took a sincere\nand kind interest in me, far beyond what could have been expected\ntowards a mere youth from a man of his age, standing, and what seemed\nausterity of character. There was in his conversation and demeanour a\ntone of high-mindedness which did not show itself so much, if the\nquality existed as much, in any of the other persons with whom at that\ntime I associated. My intercourse with him was the more beneficial,\nowing to his being of a different mental type from all other\nintellectual men whom I frequented, and he from the first set himself\ndecidedly against the prejudices and narrownesses which are almost\nsure to be found in a young man formed by a particular mode of thought\nor a particular social circle.\n\nHis younger brother, Charles Austin, of whom at this time and for the\nnext year or two I saw much, had also a great effect on me, though of\na very different description. He was but a few years older than\nmyself, and had then just left the University, where he had shone with\ngreat _\u00e9clat_ as a man of intellect and a brilliant orator and\nconverser. The effect he produced on his Cambridge contemporaries\ndeserves to be accounted an historical event; for to it may in part be\ntraced the tendency towards Liberalism in general, and the Benthamic\nand politico-economic form of it in particular, which showed itself in\na portion of the more active-minded young men of the higher classes\nfrom this time to 1830. The Union Debating Society, at that time at\nthe height of its reputation, was an arena where what were then\nthought extreme opinions, in politics and philosophy, were weekly\nasserted, face to face with their opposites, before audiences\nconsisting of the _\u00e9lite_ of the Cambridge youth: and though many\npersons afterwards of more or less note (of whom Lord Macaulay is the\nmost celebrated) gained their first oratorical laurels in those\ndebates, the really influential mind among these intellectual\ngladiators was Charles Austin. He continued, after leaving the\nUniversity, to be, by his conversation and personal ascendency, a\nleader among the same class of young men who had been his associates\nthere; and he attached me among others to his car. Through him I\nbecame acquainted with Macaulay, Hyde and Charles Villiers, Strutt\n(now Lord Belper), Romilly (now Lord Romilly and Master of the Rolls),\nand various others who subsequently figured in literature or politics,\nand among whom I heard discussions on many topics, as yet to a certain\ndegree new to me. The influence of Charles Austin over me differed\nfrom that of the persons I have hitherto mentioned, in being not the\ninfluence of a man over a boy, but that of an elder contemporary. It\nwas through him that I first felt myself, not a pupil under teachers,\nbut a man among men. He was the first person of intellect whom I met\non a ground of equality, though as yet much his inferior on that\ncommon ground. He was a man who never failed to impress greatly those\nwith whom he came in contact, even when their opinions were the very\nreverse of his. The impression he gave was that of boundless strength,\ntogether with talents which, combined with such apparent force of will\nand character, seemed capable of dominating the world. Those who knew\nhim, whether friendly to him or not, always anticipated that he would\nplay a conspicuous part in public life. It is seldom that men produce\nso great an immediate effect by speech, unless they, in some degree,\nlay themselves out for it; and he did this in no ordinary degree. He\nloved to strike, and even to startle. He knew that decision is the\ngreatest element of effect, and he uttered his opinions with all the\ndecision he could throw into them, never so well pleased as when he\nastonished anyone by their audacity. Very unlike his brother, who made\nwar against the narrower interpretations and applications of the\nprinciples they both professed, he, on the contrary, presented the\nBenthamic doctrines in the most startling form of which they were\nsusceptible, exaggerating everything in them which tended to\nconsequences offensive to anyone's preconceived feelings. All which,\nhe defended with such verve and vivacity, and carried off by a manner\nso agreeable as well as forcible, that he always either came off\nvictor, or divided the honours of the field. It is my belief that much\nof the notion popularly entertained of the tenets and sentiments of\nwhat are called Benthamites or Utilitarians had its origin in paradoxes\nthrown out by Charles Austin. It must be said, however, that his example\nwas followed, _haud passibus aequis_, by younger proselytes, and that to\n_outrer_ whatever was by anybody considered offensive in the doctrines\nand maxims of Benthamism, became at one time the badge of a small coterie\nof youths. All of these who had anything in them, myself among others,\nquickly outgrew this boyish vanity; and those who had not, became tired\nof differing from other people, and gave up both the good and the bad part\nof the heterodox opinions they had for some time professed.\n\nIt was in the winter of 1822-3 that I formed the plan of a little\nsociety, to be composed of young men agreeing in fundamental\nprinciples--acknowledging Utility as their standard in ethics and\npolitics, and a certain number of the principal corollaries drawn from\nit in the philosophy I had accepted--and meeting once a fortnight to\nread essays and discuss questions conformably to the premises thus\nagreed on. The fact would hardly be worth mentioning, but for the\ncircumstance, that the name I gave to the society I had planned was the\nUtilitarian Society. It was the first time that anyone had taken the\ntitle of Utilitarian; and the term made its way into the language, from\nthis humble source. I did not invent the word, but found it in one of\nGalt's novels, the _Annals of the Parish_, in which the Scotch\nclergyman, of whom the book is a supposed autobiography, is represented\nas warning his parishioners not to leave the Gospel and become\nutilitarians. With a boy's fondness for a name and a banner I seized\non the word, and for some years called myself and others by it as a\nsectarian appellation; and it came to be occasionally used by some\nothers holding the opinions which it was intended to designate. As those\nopinions attracted more notice, the term was repeated by strangers and\nopponents, and got into rather common use just about the time when those\nwho had originally assumed it, laid down that along with other sectarian\ncharacteristics. The Society so called consisted at first of no more\nthan three members, one of whom, being Mr. Bentham's amanuensis,\nobtained for us permission to hold our meetings in his house. The number\nnever, I think, reached ten, and the Society was broken up in 1826. It\nhad thus an existence of about three years and a half. The chief effect\nof it as regards myself, over and above the benefit of practice in oral\ndiscussion, was that of bringing me in contact with several young men at\nthat time less advanced than myself, among whom, as they professed the\nsame opinions, I was for some time a sort of leader, and had considerable\ninfluence on their mental progress. Any young man of education who fell\nin my way, and whose opinions were not incompatible with those of the\nSociety, I endeavoured to press into its service; and some others I\nprobably should never have known, had they not joined it. Those of the\nmembers who became my intimate companions--no one of whom was in any sense\nof the word a disciple, but all of them independent thinkers on their own\nbasis--were William Eyton Tooke, son of the eminent political economist,\na young man of singular worth both moral and intellectual, lost to the\nworld by an early death; his friend William Ellis, an original thinker in\nthe field of political economy, now honourably known by his apostolic\nexertions for the improvement of education; George Graham, afterwards\nofficial assignee of the Bankruptcy Court, a thinker of originality and\npower on almost all abstract subjects; and (from the time when he came\nfirst to England to study for the bar in 1824 or 1825) a man who has made\nconsiderably more noise in the world than any of these, John Arthur Roebuck.\n\nIn May, 1823, my professional occupation and status for the next\nthirty-five years of my life, were decided by my father's obtaining for\nme an appointment from the East India Company, in the office of the\nExaminer of India Correspondence, immediately under himself. I was\nappointed in the usual manner, at the bottom of the list of clerks, to\nrise, at least in the first instance, by seniority; but with the\nunderstanding that I should be employed from the beginning in preparing\ndrafts of despatches, and be thus trained up as a successor to those who\nthen filled the higher departments of the office. My drafts of course\nrequired, for some time, much revision from my immediate superiors, but\nI soon became well acquainted with the business, and by my father's\ninstructions and the general growth of my own powers, I was in a few\nyears qualified to be, and practically was, the chief conductor of the\ncorrespondence with India in one of the leading departments, that of the\nNative States. This continued to be my official duty until I was\nappointed Examiner, only two years before the time when the abolition of\nthe East India Company as a political body determined my retirement. I\ndo not know any one of the occupations by which a subsistence can now be\ngained, more suitable than such as this to anyone who, not being in\nindependent circumstances, desires to devote a part of the twenty-four\nhours to private intellectual pursuits. Writing for the press cannot be\nrecommended as a permanent resource to anyone qualified to accomplish\nanything in the higher departments of literature or thought: not only on\naccount of the uncertainty of this means of livelihood, especially if\nthe writer has a conscience, and will not consent to serve any opinions\nexcept his own; but also because the writings by which one can live are\nnot the writings which themselves live, and are never those in which the\nwriter does his best. Books destined to form future thinkers take too\nmuch time to write, and when written come, in general, too slowly into\nnotice and repute, to be relied on for subsistence. Those who have to\nsupport themselves by their pen must depend on literary drudgery, or at\nbest on writings addressed to the multitude; and can employ in the\npursuits of their own choice, only such time as they can spare from\nthose of necessity; which is generally less than the leisure allowed by\noffice occupations, while the effect on the mind is far more enervating\nand fatiguing. For my own part I have, through life, found office duties\nan actual rest from the other mental occupations which I have carried on\nsimultaneously with them. They were sufficiently intellectual not to be\na distasteful drudgery, without being such as to cause any strain upon\nthe mental powers of a person used to abstract thought, or to the labour\nof careful literary composition. The drawbacks, for every mode of life\nhas its drawbacks, were not, however, unfelt by me. I cared little for\nthe loss of the chances of riches and honours held out by some of the\nprofessions, particularly the bar, which had been, as I have already\nsaid, the profession thought of for me. But I was not indifferent to\nexclusion from Parliament, and public life: and I felt very sensibly the\nmore immediate unpleasantness of confinement to London; the holiday\nallowed by India House practice not exceeding a month in the year, while\nmy taste was strong for a country life, and my sojourn in France had\nleft behind it an ardent desire of travelling. But though these tastes\ncould not be freely indulged, they were at no time entirely sacrificed.\nI passed most Sundays, throughout the year, in the country, taking long\nrural walks on that day even when residing in London. The month's\nholiday was, for a few years, passed at my father's house in the\ncountry; afterwards a part or the whole was spent in tours, chiefly\npedestrian, with some one or more of the young men who were my chosen\ncompanions; and, at a later period, in longer journeys or excursions,\nalone or with other friends. France, Belgium, and Rhenish Germany were\nwithin easy reach of the annual holiday: and two longer absences, one of\nthree, the other of six months, under medical advice, added Switzerland,\nthe Tyrol, and Italy to my list. Fortunately, also, both these journeys\noccurred rather early, so as to give the benefit and charm of the\nremembrance to a large portion of life.\n\nI am disposed to agree with what has been surmised by others, that the\nopportunity which my official position gave me of learning by personal\nobservation the necessary conditions of the practical conduct of\npublic affairs, has been of considerable value to me as a theoretical\nreformer of the opinions and institutions of my time. Not, indeed,\nthat public business transacted on paper, to take effect on the other\nside of the globe, was of itself calculated to give much practical\nknowledge of life. But the occupation accustomed me to see and hear\nthe difficulties of every course, and the means of obviating them,\nstated and discussed deliberately with a view to execution: it gave\nme opportunities of perceiving when public measures, and other\npolitical facts, did not produce the effects which had been expected\nof them, and from what causes; above all, it was valuable to me by\nmaking me, in this portion of my activity, merely one wheel in a\nmachine, the whole of which had to work together. As a speculative\nwriter, I should have had no one to consult but myself, and should\nhave encountered in my speculations none of the obstacles which would\nhave started up whenever they came to be applied to practice. But as a\nSecretary conducting political correspondence, I could not issue an\norder, or express an opinion, without satisfying various persons very\nunlike myself, that the thing was fit to be done. I was thus in a good\nposition for finding out by practice the mode of putting a thought\nwhich gives it easiest admittance into minds not prepared for it by\nhabit; while I became practically conversant with the difficulties of\nmoving bodies of men, the necessities of compromise, the art of\nsacrificing the non-essential to preserve the essential. I learnt how\nto obtain the best I could, when I could not obtain everything;\ninstead of being indignant or dispirited because I could not have\nentirely my own way, to be pleased and encouraged when I could have\nthe smallest part of it; and when even that could not be, to bear with\ncomplete equanimity the being overruled altogether. I have found,\nthrough life, these acquisitions to be of the greatest possible\nimportance for personal happiness, and they are also a very necessary\ncondition for enabling anyone, either as theorist or as practical man,\nto effect the greatest amount of good compatible with his opportunities.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nYOUTHFUL PROPAGANDISM. THE \"WESTMINSTER REVIEW\"\n\n\nThe occupation of so much of my time by office work did not relax my\nattention to my own pursuits, which were never carried on more\nvigorously. It was about this time that I began to write in newspapers.\nThe first writings of mine which got into print were two letters\npublished towards the end of 1822, in the _Traveller_ evening newspaper.\nThe _Traveller_ (which afterwards grew into the _Globe and Traveller_,\nby the purchase and incorporation of the _Globe_) was then the property\nof the well-known political economist, Colonel Torrens, and under the\neditorship of an able man, Mr. Walter Coulson (who, after being an\namanuensis of Mr. Bentham, became a reporter, then an editor, next a\nbarrister and conveyancer, and died Counsel to the Home Office), it had\nbecome one of the most important newspaper organs of Liberal politics.\nColonel Torrens himself wrote much of the political economy of his\npaper; and had at this time made an attack upon some opinion of Ricardo\nand my father, to which, at my father's instigation, I attempted an\nanswer, and Coulson, out of consideration for my father and goodwill to\nme, inserted it. There was a reply by Torrens, to which I again\nrejoined. I soon after attempted something considerably more ambitious.\nThe prosecutions of Richard Carlile and his wife and sister for\npublications hostile to Christianity were then exciting much attention,\nand nowhere more than among the people I frequented. Freedom of\ndiscussion even in politics, much more in religion, was at that time far\nfrom being, even in theory, the conceded point which it at least seems\nto be now; and the holders of obnoxious opinions had to be always ready\nto argue and re-argue for the liberty of expressing them. I wrote a\nseries of five letters, under the signature of Wickliffe, going over the\nwhole length and breadth of the question of free publication of all\nopinions on religion, and offered them to the _Morning Chronicle_. Three\nof them were published in January and February, 1823; the other two,\ncontaining things too outspoken for that journal, never appeared at all.\nBut a paper which I wrote soon after on the same subject, _\u00e0 propos_ of\na debate in the House of Commons, was inserted as a leading article; and\nduring the whole of this year, 1823, a considerable number of my\ncontributions were printed in the _Chronicle_ and _Traveller_: sometimes\nnotices of books, but oftener letters, commenting on some nonsense\ntalked in Parliament, or some defect of the law, or misdoings of the\nmagistracy or the courts of justice. In this last department the\n_Chronicle_ was now rendering signal service. After the death of Mr.\nPerry, the editorship and management of the paper had devolved on Mr.\nJohn Black, long a reporter on its establishment; a man of most\nextensive reading and information, great honesty and simplicity of mind;\na particular friend of my father, imbued with many of his and Bentham's\nideas, which he reproduced in his articles, among other valuable\nthoughts, with great facility and skill. From this time the _Chronicle_\nceased to be the merely Whig organ it was before, and during the next\nten years became to a considerable extent a vehicle of the opinions of\nthe Utilitarian Radicals. This was mainly by what Black himself wrote,\nwith some assistance from Fonblanque, who first showed his eminent\nqualities as a writer by articles and _jeux d'esprit_ in the\n_Chronicle_. The defects of the law, and of the administration of\njustice, were the subject on which that paper rendered most service to\nimprovement. Up to that time hardly a word had been said, except by\nBentham and my father, against that most peccant part of English\ninstitutions and of their administration. It was the almost universal\ncreed of Englishmen, that the law of England, the judicature of England,\nthe unpaid magistracy of England, were models of excellence. I do not go\nbeyond the mark in saying, that after Bentham, who supplied the\nprincipal materials, the greatest share of the merit of breaking down\nthis wretched superstition belongs to Black, as editor of the _Morning\nChronicle_. He kept up an incessant fire against it, exposing the\nabsurdities and vices of the law and the courts of justice, paid and\nunpaid, until he forced some sense of them into people's minds. On many\nother questions he became the organ of opinions much in advance of any\nwhich had ever before found regular advocacy in the newspaper press.\nBlack was a frequent visitor of my father, and Mr. Grote used to say\nthat he always knew by the Monday morning's article whether Black had\nbeen with my father on the Sunday. Black was one of the most influential\nof the many channels through which my father's conversation and personal\ninfluence made his opinions tell on the world; cooperating with the\neffect of his writings in making him a power in the country such as it\nhas rarely been the lot of an individual in a private station to be,\nthrough the mere force of intellect and character: and a power which was\noften acting the most efficiently where it was least seen and suspected.\nI have already noticed how much of what was done by Ricardo, Hume, and\nGrote was the result, in part, of his prompting and persuasion. He was\nthe good genius by the side of Brougham in most of what he did for the\npublic, either on education, law reform, or any other subject. And his\ninfluence flowed in minor streams too numerous to be specified. This\ninfluence was now about to receive a great extension by the foundation\nof the _Westminster Review_.\n\nContrary to what may have been supposed, my father was in no degree a\nparty to setting up the _Westminster Review_. The need of a Radical\norgan to make head against the _Edinburgh_ and _Quarterly_ (then in the\nperiod of their greatest reputation and influence) had been a topic of\nconversation between him and Mr. Bentham many years earlier, and it had\nbeen a part of their _Ch\u00e2teau en Espagne_ that my father should be the\neditor; but the idea had never assumed any practical shape. In 1823,\nhowever, Mr. Bentham determined to establish the _Review_ at his own\ncost, and offered the editorship to my father, who declined it as\nincompatible with his India House appointment. It was then entrusted to\nMr. (now Sir John) Bowring, at that time a merchant in the City. Mr.\nBowring had been for two or three years previous an assiduous frequenter\nof Mr. Bentham, to whom he was recommended by many personal good\nqualities, by an ardent admiration for Bentham, a zealous adoption of\nmany, though not all of his opinions, and, not least, by an extensive\nacquaintanceship and correspondence with Liberals of all countries,\nwhich seemed to qualify him for being a powerful agent in spreading\nBentham's fame and doctrines through all quarters of the world. My\nfather had seen little of Bowring, but knew enough of him to have formed\na strong opinion, that he was a man of an entirely different type from\nwhat my father considered suitable for conducting a political and\nphilosophical Review: and he augured so ill of the enterprise that he\nregretted it altogether, feeling persuaded not only that Mr. Bentham\nwould lose his money, but that discredit would probably be brought upon\nRadical principles. He could not, however, desert Mr. Bentham, and he\nconsented to write an article for the first number. As it had been a\nfavourite portion of the scheme formerly talked of, that part of the\nwork should be devoted to reviewing the other Reviews, this article of\nmy father's was to be a general criticism of the _Edinburgh Review_ from\nits commencement. Before writing it he made me read through all the\nvolumes of the _Review_, or as much of each as seemed of any importance\n(which was not so arduous a task in 1823 as it would be now), and make\nnotes for him of the articles which I thought he would wish to examine,\neither on account of their good or their bad qualities. This paper of my\nfather's was the chief cause of the sensation which the _Westminster\nReview_ produced at its first appearance, and is, both in conception and\nin execution, one of the most striking of all his writings. He began by\nan analysis of the tendencies of periodical literature in general;\npointing out, that it cannot, like books, wait for success, but must\nsucceed immediately or not at all, and is hence almost certain to\nprofess and inculcate the opinions already held by the public to which\nit addresses itself, instead of attempting to rectify or improve those\nopinions. He next, to characterize the position of the _Edinburgh\nReview_ as a political organ, entered into a complete analysis, from the\nRadical point of view, of the British Constitution. He held up to notice\nits thoroughly aristocratic character: the nomination of a majority of\nthe House of Commons by a few hundred families; the entire\nidentification of the more independent portion, the county members, with\nthe great landholders; the different classes whom this narrow oligarchy\nwas induced, for convenience, to admit to a share of power; and finally,\nwhat he called its two props, the Church, and the legal profession. He\npointed out the natural tendency of an aristocratic body of this\ncomposition, to group itself into two parties, one of them in possession\nof the executive, the other endeavouring to supplant the former and\nbecome the predominant section by the aid of public opinion, without any\nessential sacrifice of the aristocratical predominance. He described the\ncourse likely to be pursued, and the political ground occupied, by an\naristocratic party in opposition, coquetting with popular principles for\nthe sake of popular support. He showed how this idea was realized in the\nconduct of the Whig party, and of the _Edinburgh Review_ as its chief\nliterary organ. He described, as their main characteristic, what he\ntermed \"seesaw\"; writing alternately on both sides of the question which\ntouched the power or interest of the governing classes; sometimes in\ndifferent articles, sometimes in different parts of the same article:\nand illustrated his position by copious specimens. So formidable an\nattack on the Whig party and policy had never before been made; nor had\nso great a blow ever been struck, in this country, for Radicalism; nor\nwas there, I believe, any living person capable of writing that article\nexcept my father.[2]\n\nIn the meantime the nascent _Review_ had formed a junction with another\nproject, of a purely literary periodical, to be edited by Mr. Henry\nSouthern, afterwards a diplomatist, then a literary man by profession.\nThe two editors agreed to unite their corps, and divide the editorship,\nBowring taking the political, Southern the literary department.\nSouthern's Review was to have been published by Longman, and that firm,\nthough part proprietors of the _Edinburgh_, were willing to be the\npublishers of the new journal. But when all the arrangements had been\nmade, and the prospectuses sent out, the Longmans saw my father's attack\non the _Edinburgh_, and drew back. My father was now appealed to for his\ninterest with his own publisher, Baldwin, which was exerted with a\nsuccessful result. And so in April, 1824, amidst anything but hope on my\nfather's part, and that of most of those who afterwards aided in\ncarrying on the _Review_, the first number made its appearance.\n\nThat number was an agreeable surprise to most of us. The average of the\narticles was of much better quality than had been expected. The literary\nand artistic department had rested chiefly on Mr. Bingham, a barrister\n(subsequently a police magistrate), who had been for some years a\nfrequenter of Bentham, was a friend of both the Austins, and had adopted\nwith great ardour Mr. Bentham's philosophical opinions. Partly from\naccident, there were in the first number as many as five articles by\nBingham; and we were extremely pleased with them. I well remember the\nmixed feeling I myself had about the _Review_; the joy of finding, what\nwe did not at all expect, that it was sufficiently good to be capable of\nbeing made a creditable organ of those who held the opinions it\nprofessed; and extreme vexation, since it was so good on the whole, at\nwhat we thought the blemishes of it. When, however, in addition to our\ngenerally favourable opinion of it, we learned that it had an\nextraordinary large sale for a first number, and found that the\nappearance of a Radical Review, with pretensions equal to those of the\nestablished organs of parties, had excited much attention, there could\nbe no room for hesitation, and we all became eager in doing everything\nwe could to strengthen and improve it.\n\nMy father continued to write occasional articles. The _Quarterly Review_\nreceived its exposure, as a sequel to that of the _Edinburgh_. Of his\nother contributions, the most important were an attack on Southey's\n_Book of the Church_, in the fifth number, and a political article in\nthe twelfth. Mr. Austin only contributed one paper, but one of great\nmerit, an argument against primogeniture, in reply to an article then\nlately published in the _Edinburgh Review_ by McCulloch. Grote also\nwas a contributor only once; all the time he could spare being already\ntaken up with his _History of Greece_. The article he wrote was on his\nown subject, and was a very complete exposure and castigation of\nMitford. Bingham and Charles Austin continued to write for some time;\nFonblanque was a frequent contributor from the third number. Of my\nparticular associates, Ellis was a regular writer up to the ninth\nnumber; and about the time when he left off, others of the set began;\nEyton Tooke, Graham, and Roebuck. I was myself the most frequent writer\nof all, having contributed, from the second number to the eighteenth,\nthirteen articles; reviews of books on history and political economy, or\ndiscussions on special political topics, as corn laws, game laws, law of\nlibel. Occasional articles of merit came in from other acquaintances of\nmy father's, and, in time, of mine; and some of Mr. Bowring's writers\nturned out well. On the whole, however, the conduct of the Review was\nnever satisfactory to any of the persons strongly interested in its\nprinciples, with whom I came in contact. Hardly ever did a number come\nout without containing several things extremely offensive to us, either\nin point of opinion, of taste, or by mere want of ability. The\nunfavourable judgments passed by my father, Grote, the two Austins, and\nothers, were re-echoed with exaggeration by us younger people; and as\nour youthful zeal rendered us by no means backward in making complaints,\nwe led the two editors a sad life. From my knowledge of what I then was,\nI have no doubt that we were at least as often wrong as right; and I am\nvery certain that if the _Review_ had been carried on according to our\nnotions (I mean those of the juniors), it would have been no better,\nperhaps not even so good as it was. But it is worth noting as a fact in\nthe history of Benthamism, that the periodical organ, by which it was\nbest known, was from the first extremely unsatisfactory to those whose\nopinions on all subjects it was supposed specially to represent.\n\nMeanwhile, however, the _Review_ made considerable noise in the world,\nand gave a recognised _status_, in the arena of opinion and discussion,\nto the Benthamic type of Radicalism, out of all proportion to the number\nof its adherents, and to the personal merits and abilities, at that\ntime, of most of those who could be reckoned among them. It was a time,\nas is known, of rapidly rising Liberalism. When the fears and\nanimosities accompanying the war with France had been brought to an end,\nand people had once more a place in their thoughts for home politics,\nthe tide began to set towards reform. The renewed oppression of the\nContinent by the old reigning families, the countenance apparently given\nby the English Government to the conspiracy against liberty called the\nHoly Alliance, and the enormous weight of the national debt and taxation\noccasioned by so long and costly a war, rendered the government and\nparliament very unpopular. Radicalism, under the leadership of the\nBurdetts and Cobbetts, had assumed a character and importance which\nseriously alarmed the Administration: and their alarm had scarcely been\ntemporarily assuaged by the celebrated Six Acts, when the trial of Queen\nCaroline roused a still wider and deeper feeling of hatred. Though the\noutward signs of this hatred passed away with its exciting cause, there\narose on all sides a spirit which had never shown itself before, of\nopposition to abuses in detail. Mr. Hume's persevering scrutiny of the\npublic expenditure, forcing the House of Commons to a division on every\nobjectionable item in the estimates, had begun to tell with great force\non public opinion, and had extorted many minor retrenchments from an\nunwilling administration. Political economy had asserted itself with\ngreat vigour in public affairs, by the petition of the merchants of\nLondon for free trade, drawn up in 1820 by Mr. Tooke and presented by\nMr. Alexander Baring; and by the noble exertions of Ricardo during the\nfew years of his parliamentary life. His writings, following up the\nimpulse given by the Bullion controversy, and followed up in their turn\nby the expositions and comments of my father and McCulloch (whose\nwritings in the _Edinburgh Review_ during those years were most\nvaluable), had drawn general attention to the subject, making at least\npartial converts in the Cabinet itself; and Huskisson, supported by\nCanning, had commenced that gradual demolition of the protective system,\nwhich one of their colleagues virtually completed in 1846, though the\nlast vestiges were only swept away by Mr. Gladstone in 1860. Mr. Peel,\nthen Home Secretary, was entering cautiously into the untrodden and\npeculiarly Benthamic path of Law Reform. At this period, when Liberalism\nseemed to be becoming the tone of the time, when improvement of\ninstitutions was preached from the highest places, and a complete change\nof the constitution of Parliament was loudly demanded in the lowest, it\nis not strange that attention should have been roused by the regular\nappearance in controversy of what seemed a new school of writers,\nclaiming to be the legislators and theorists of this new tendency. The\nair of strong conviction with which they wrote, when scarcely anyone\nelse seemed to have an equally strong faith in as definite a creed; the\nboldness with which they tilted against the very front of both the\nexisting political parties; their uncompromising profession of\nopposition to many of the generally received opinions, and the suspicion\nthey lay under of holding others still more heterodox than they\nprofessed; the talent and verve of at least my father's articles, and\nthe appearance of a corps behind him sufficient to carry on a Review;\nand finally, the fact that the _Review_ was bought and read, made the\nso-called Bentham school in philosophy and politics fill a greater place\nin the public mind than it had held before, or has ever again held since\nother equally earnest schools of thought have arisen in England. As I\nwas in the headquarters of it, knew of what it was composed, and as one\nof the most active of its very small number, might say without undue\nassumption, _quorum pars magna fui_, it belongs to me more than to most\nothers, to give some account of it.\n\nThis supposed school, then, had no other existence than what was\nconstituted by the fact, that my father's writings and conversation drew\nround him a certain number of young men who had already imbibed, or who\nimbibed from him, a greater or smaller portion of his very decided\npolitical and philosophical opinions. The notion that Bentham was\nsurrounded by a band of disciples who received their opinions from his\nlips, is a fable to which my father did justice in his \"Fragment on\nMackintosh,\" and which, to all who knew Mr. Bentham's habits of life and\nmanner of conversation, is simply ridiculous. The influence which\nBentham exercised was by his writings. Through them he has produced, and\nis producing, effects on the condition of mankind, wider and deeper, no\ndoubt, than any which can be attributed to my father. He is a much\ngreater name in history. But my father exercised a far greater personal\nascendency. He _was_ sought for the vigour and instructiveness of his\nconversation, and did use it largely as an instrument for the diffusion\nof his opinions. I have never known any man who could do such ample\njustice to his best thoughts in colloquial discussion. His perfect\ncommand over his great mental resources, the terseness and\nexpressiveness of his language and the moral earnestness as well as\nintellectual force of his delivery, made him one of the most striking of\nall argumentative conversers: and he was full of anecdote, a hearty\nlaugher, and, when with people whom he liked, a most lively and amusing\ncompanion. It was not solely, or even chiefly, in diffusing his merely\nintellectual convictions that his power showed itself: it was still more\nthrough the influence of a quality, of which I have only since learnt to\nappreciate the extreme rarity: that exalted public spirit, and regard\nabove all things to the good of the whole, which warmed into life and\nactivity every germ of similar virtue that existed in the minds he came\nin contact with: the desire he made them feel for his approbation, the\nshame at his disapproval; the moral support which his conversation and\nhis very existence gave to those who were aiming at the same objects, and\nthe encouragement he afforded to the fainthearted or desponding among\nthem, by the firm confidence which (though the reverse of sanguine as to\nthe results to be expected in any one particular case) he always felt in\nthe power of reason, the general progress of improvement, and the good\nwhich individuals could do by judicious effort.\n\nIf was my father's opinions which gave the distinguishing character to\nthe Benthamic or utilitarian propagandism of that time. They fell\nsingly, scattered from him, in many directions, but they flowed from him\nin a continued stream principally in three channels. One was through me,\nthe only mind directly formed by his instructions, and through whom\nconsiderable influence was exercised over various young men, who became,\nin their turn, propagandists. A second was through some of the Cambridge\ncontemporaries of Charles Austin, who, either initiated by him or under\nthe general mental impulse which he gave, had adopted many opinions\nallied to those of my father, and some of the more considerable of whom\nafterwards sought my father's acquaintance and frequented his house.\nAmong these may be mentioned Strutt, afterwards Lord Belper, and the\npresent Lord Romilly, with whose eminent father, Sir Samuel, my father\nhad of old been on terms of friendship. The third channel was that of a\nyounger generation of Cambridge undergraduates, contemporary, not with\nAustin, but with Eyton Tooke, who were drawn to that estimable person by\naffinity of opinions, and introduced by him to my father: the most\nnotable of these was Charles Buller. Various other persons individually\nreceived and transmitted a considerable amount of my father's influence:\nfor example, Black (as before mentioned) and Fonblanque: most of these,\nhowever, we accounted only partial allies; Fonblanque, for instance, was\nalways divergent from us on many important points. But indeed there was\nby no means complete unanimity among any portion of us, nor had any of\nus adopted implicitly all my father's opinions. For example, although\nhis _Essay on Government_ was regarded probably by all of us as a\nmasterpiece of political wisdom, our adhesion by no means extended to\nthe paragraph of it in which he maintains that women may, consistently\nwith good government, be excluded from the suffrage, because their\ninterest is the same with that of men. From this doctrine, I, and all\nthose who formed my chosen associates, most positively dissented. It is\ndue to my father to say that he denied having intended to affirm that\nwomen _should_ be excluded, any more than men under the age of forty,\nconcerning whom he maintained in the very next paragraph an exactly\nsimilar thesis. He was, as he truly said, not discussing whether the\nsuffrage had better be restricted, but only (assuming that it is to be\nrestricted) what is the utmost limit of restriction which does not\nnecessarily involve a sacrifice of the securities for good government.\nBut I thought then, as I have always thought since that the opinion\nwhich he acknowledged, no less than that which he disclaimed, is as\ngreat an error as any of those against which the _Essay_ was directed;\nthat the interest of women is included in that of men exactly as much as\nthe interest of subjects is included in that of kings, and no more; and\nthat every reason which exists for giving the suffrage to anybody,\ndemands that it should not be withheld from women. This was also the\ngeneral opinion of the younger proselytes; and it is pleasant to be able\nto say that Mr. Bentham, on this important point, was wholly on our side.\n\nBut though none of us, probably, agreed in every respect with my father,\nhis opinions, as I said before, were the principal element which gave\nits colour and character to the little group of young men who were the\nfirst propagators of what was afterwards called \"Philosophic Radicalism.\"\nTheir mode of thinking was not characterized by Benthamism in any sense\nwhich has relation to Bentham as a chief or guide, but rather by a\ncombination of Bentham's point of view with that of the modern political\neconomy, and with the Hartleian metaphysics. Malthus's population\nprinciple was quite as much a banner, and point of union among us, as\nany opinion specially belonging to Bentham. This great doctrine,\noriginally brought forward as an argument against the indefinite\nimprovability of human affairs, we took up with ardent zeal in the\ncontrary sense, as indicating the sole means of realizing that\nimprovability by securing full employment at high wages to the whole\nlabouring population through a voluntary restriction of the increase of\ntheir numbers. The other leading characteristics of the creed, which we\nheld in common with my father, may be stated as follows:\n\nIn politics, an almost unbounded confidence in the efficacy of two\nthings: representative government, and complete freedom of discussion.\nSo complete was my father's reliance on the influence of reason over the\nminds of mankind, whenever it is allowed to reach them, that he felt as\nif all would be gained if the whole population were taught to read, if\nall sorts of opinions were allowed to be addressed to them by word and\nin writing, and if by means of the suffrage they could nominate a\nlegislature to give effect to the opinions they adopted. He thought that\nwhen the legislature no longer represented a class interest, it would\naim at the general interest, honestly and with adequate wisdom; since\nthe people would be sufficiently under the guidance of educated\nintelligence, to make in general a good choice of persons to represent\nthem, and having done so, to leave to those whom they had chosen a\nliberal discretion. Accordingly aristocratic rule, the government of the\nFew in any of its shapes, being in his eyes the only thing which stood\nbetween mankind and an administration of their affairs by the best\nwisdom to be found among them, was the object of his sternest\ndisapprobation, and a democratic suffrage the principal article of his\npolitical creed, not on the ground of liberty, Rights of Man, or any of\nthe phrases, more or less significant, by which, up to that time,\ndemocracy had usually been defended, but as the most essential of\n\"securities for good government.\" In this, too, he held fast only to\nwhat he deemed essentials; he was comparatively indifferent to\nmonarchical or republican forms--far more so than Bentham, to whom a\nking, in the character of \"corrupter-general,\" appeared necessarily very\nnoxious. Next to aristocracy, an established church, or corporation of\npriests, as being by position the great depravers of religion, and\ninterested in opposing the progress of the human mind, was the object of\nhis greatest detestation; though he disliked no clergyman personally who\ndid not deserve it, and was on terms of sincere friendship with several.\nIn ethics his moral feelings were energetic and rigid on all points\nwhich he deemed important to human well being, while he was supremely\nindifferent in opinion (though his indifference did not show itself in\npersonal conduct) to all those doctrines of the common morality, which\nhe thought had no foundation but in asceticism and priestcraft. He\nlooked forward, for example, to a considerable increase of freedom in\nthe relations between the sexes, though without pretending to define\nexactly what would be, or ought to be, the precise conditions of that\nfreedom. This opinion was connected in him with no sensuality either of\na theoretical or of a practical kind. He anticipated, on the contrary,\nas one of the beneficial effects of increased freedom, that the\nimagination would no longer dwell upon the physical relation and its\nadjuncts, and swell this into one of the principal objects of life; a\nperversion of the imagination and feelings, which he regarded as one of\nthe deepest seated and most pervading evils in the human mind. In\npsychology, his fundamental doctrine was the formation of all human\ncharacter by circumstances, through the universal Principle of\nAssociation, and the consequent unlimited possibility of improving the\nmoral and intellectual condition of mankind by education. Of all his\ndoctrines none was more important than this, or needs more to be\ninsisted on; unfortunately there is none which is more contradictory to\nthe prevailing tendencies of speculation, both in his time and since.\n\nThese various opinions were seized on with youthful fanaticism by the\nlittle knot of young men of whom I was one: and we put into them a\nsectarian spirit, from which, in intention at least, my father was\nwholly free. What we (or rather a phantom substituted in the place of\nus) were sometimes, by a ridiculous exaggeration, called by others,\nnamely a \"school,\" some of us for a time really hoped and aspired to be.\nThe French _philosophes_ of the eighteenth century were the examples we\nsought to imitate, and we hoped to accomplish no less results. No one of\nthe set went to so great excesses in his boyish ambition as I did; which\nmight be shown by many particulars, were it not an useless waste of\nspace and time.\n\nAll this, however, is properly only the outside of our existence; or, at\nleast, the intellectual part alone, and no more than one side of that.\nIn attempting to penetrate inward, and give any indication of what we\nwere as human beings, I must be understood as speaking only of myself,\nof whom alone I can speak from sufficient knowledge; and I do not\nbelieve that the picture would suit any of my companions without many\nand great modifications.\n\nI conceive that the description so often given of a Benthamite, as a\nmere reasoning machine, though extremely inapplicable to most of those\nwho have been designated by that title, was during two or three years of\nmy life not altogether untrue of me. It was perhaps as applicable to me\nas it can well be to anyone just entering into life, to whom the common\nobjects of desire must in general have at least the attraction of\nnovelty. There is nothing very extraordinary in this fact: no youth of\nthe age I then was, can be expected to be more than one thing, and this\nwas the thing I happened to be. Ambition and desire of distinction I had\nin abundance; and zeal for what I thought the good of mankind was my\nstrongest sentiment, mixing with and colouring all others. But my zeal\nwas as yet little else, at that period of my life, than zeal for\nspeculative opinions. It had not its root in genuine benevolence, or\nsympathy with mankind; though these qualities held their due place in\nmy ethical standard. Nor was it connected with any high enthusiasm for\nideal nobleness. Yet of this feeling I was imaginatively very\nsusceptible; but there was at that time an intermission of its natural\naliment, poetical culture, while there was a superabundance of the\ndiscipline antagonistic to it, that of mere logic and analysis. Add to\nthis that, as already mentioned, my father's teachings tended to the\nundervaluing of feeling. It was not that he was himself cold-hearted or\ninsensible; I believe it was rather from the contrary quality; he\nthought that feeling could take care of itself; that there was sure to\nbe enough of it if actions were properly cared about. Offended by the\nfrequency with which, in ethical and philosophical controversy, feeling\nis made the ultimate reason and justification of conduct, instead of\nbeing itself called on for a justification, while, in practice, actions\nthe effect of which on human happiness is mischievous, are defended as\nbeing required by feeling, and the character of a person of feeling\nobtains a credit for desert, which he thought only due to actions, he\nhad a real impatience of attributing praise to feeling, or of any but\nthe most sparing reference to it, either in the estimation of persons or\nin the discussion of things. In addition to the influence which this\ncharacteristic in him had on me and others, we found all the opinions to\nwhich we attached most importance, constantly attacked on the ground of\nfeeling. Utility was denounced as cold calculation; political economy as\nhard-hearted; anti-population doctrines as repulsive to the natural\nfeelings of mankind. We retorted by the word \"sentimentality,\" which,\nalong with \"declamation\" and \"vague generalities,\" served us as common\nterms of opprobrium. Although we were generally in the right, as against\nthose who were opposed to us, the effect was that the cultivation of\nfeeling (except the feelings of public and private duty) was not in much\nesteem among us, and had very little place in the thoughts of most of\nus, myself in particular. What we principally thought of, was to alter\npeople's opinions; to make them believe according to evidence, and know\nwhat was their real interest, which when they once knew, they would, we\nthought, by the instrument of opinion, enforce a regard to it upon one\nanother. While fully recognising the superior excellence of unselfish\nbenevolence and love of justice, we did not expect the regeneration of\nmankind from any direct action on those sentiments, but from the effect\nof educated intellect, enlightening the selfish feelings. Although this\nlast is prodigiously important as a means of improvement in the hands of\nthose who are themselves impelled by nobler principles of action, I do\nnot believe that any one of the survivors of the Benthamites or\nUtilitarians of that day now relies mainly upon it for the general\namendment of human conduct.\n\nFrom this neglect both in theory and in practice of the cultivation of\nfeeling, naturally resulted, among other things, an undervaluing of\npoetry, and of Imagination generally, as an element of human nature. It\nis, or was, part of the popular notion of Benthamites, that they are\nenemies of poetry: this was partly true of Bentham himself; he used to\nsay that \"all poetry is misrepresentation\": but in the sense in which he\nsaid it, the same might have been said of all impressive speech; of all\nrepresentation or inculcation more oratorical in its character than a\nsum in arithmetic. An article of Bingham's in the first number of the\n_Westminster Review_, in which he offered as an explanation of something\nwhich he disliked in Moore, that \"Mr. Moore _is_ a poet, and therefore\nis _not_ a reasoner,\" did a good deal to attach the notion of hating\npoetry to the writers in the _Review_. But the truth was that many of us\nwere great readers of poetry; Bingham himself had been a writer of it,\nwhile as regards me (and the same thing might be said of my father), the\ncorrect statement would be, not that I disliked poetry, but that I was\ntheoretically indifferent to it. I disliked any sentiments in poetry\nwhich I should have disliked in prose; and that included a great deal.\nAnd I was wholly blind to its place in human culture, as a means of\neducating the feelings. But I was always personally very susceptible to\nsome kinds of it. In the most sectarian period of my Benthamism, I\nhappened to look into Pope's _Essay on Man_, and, though every opinion\nin it was contrary to mine, I well remember how powerfully it acted on\nmy imagination. Perhaps at that time poetical composition of any higher\ntype than eloquent discussion in verse, might not have produced a\nsimilar effect upon me: at all events I seldom gave it an opportunity.\nThis, however, was a mere passive state. Long before I had enlarged in\nany considerable degree the basis of my intellectual creed, I had\nobtained, in the natural course of my mental progress, poetic culture of\nthe most valuable kind, by means of reverential admiration for the lives\nand characters of heroic persons; especially the heroes of philosophy.\nThe same inspiring effect which so many of the benefactors of mankind\nhave left on record that they had experienced from Plutarch's _Lives_,\nwas produced on me by Plato's pictures of Socrates, and by some modern\nbiographies, above all by Condorcet's _Life of Turgot_; a book well\ncalculated to rouse the best sort of enthusiasm, since it contains one\nof the wisest and noblest of lives, delineated by one of the wisest and\nnoblest of men. The heroic virtue of these glorious representatives of\nthe opinions with which I sympathized, deeply affected me, and I\nperpetually recurred to them as others do to a favourite poet, when\nneeding to be carried up into the more elevated regions of feeling and\nthought. I may observe by the way that this book cured me of my\nsectarian follies. The two or three pages beginning \"Il regardait toute\nsecte comme nuisible,\" and explaining why Turgot always kept himself\nperfectly distinct from the Encyclopedists, sank deeply into my mind.\nI left off designating myself and others as Utilitarians, and by the\npronoun \"we,\" or any other collective designation, I ceased to\n_afficher_ sectarianism. My real inward sectarianism I did not get rid\nof till later, and much more gradually.\n\nAbout the end of 1824, or beginning of 1825, Mr. Bentham, having lately\ngot back his papers on Evidence from M. Dumont (whose _Trait\u00e9 des\nPreuves Judiciaires_, grounded on them, was then first completed and\npublished), resolved to have them printed in the original, and bethought\nhimself of me as capable of preparing them for the press; in the same\nmanner as his _Book of Fallacies_ had been recently edited by Bingham.\nI gladly undertook this task, and it occupied nearly all my leisure for\nabout a year, exclusive of the time afterwards spent in seeing the five\nlarge volumes through the press. Mr. Bentham had begun this treatise\nthree time's, at considerable intervals, each time in a different\nmanner, and each time without reference to the preceding: two of the\nthree times he had gone over nearly the whole subject. These three\nmasses of manuscript it was my business to condense into a single\ntreatise, adopting the one last written as the groundwork, and\nincorporating with it as much of the two others as it had not completely\nsuperseded. I had also to unroll such of Bentham's involved and\nparenthetical sentences as seemed to overpass by their complexity the\nmeasure of what readers were likely to take the pains to understand. It\nwas further Mr. Bentham's particular desire that I should, from myself,\nendeavour to supply any _lacunae_ which he had left; and at his instance\nI read, for this purpose, the most authoritative treatises on the\nEnglish Law of Evidence, and commented on a few of the objectionable\npoints of the English rules, which had escaped Bentham's notice. I also\nreplied to the objections which had been made to some of his doctrines\nby reviewers of Dumont's book, and added a few supplementary remarks on\nsome of the more abstract parts of the subject, such as the theory of\nimprobability and impossibility. The controversial part of these\neditorial additions was written in a more assuming tone than became one\nso young and inexperienced as I was: but indeed I had never contemplated\ncoming forward in my own person; and as an anonymous editor of Bentham I\nfell into the tone of my author, not thinking it unsuitable to him or to\nthe subject, however it might be so to me. My name as editor was put to\nthe book after it was printed, at Mr. Bentham's positive desire, which I\nin vain attempted to persuade him to forego.\n\nThe time occupied in this editorial work was extremely well employed in\nrespect to my own improvement. The _Rationale of Judicial Evidence_ is\none of the richest in matter of all Bentham's productions. The theory of\nevidence being in itself one of the most important of his subjects, and\nramifying into most of the others, the book contains, very fully\ndeveloped, a great proportion of all his best thoughts: while, among\nmore special things, it comprises the most elaborate exposure of the\nvices and defects of English law, as it then was, which is to be found\nin his works; not confined to the law of evidence, but including, by way\nof illustrative episode, the entire procedure or practice of Westminster\nHall. The direct knowledge, therefore, which I obtained from the book,\nand which was imprinted upon me much more thoroughly than it could have\nbeen by mere reading, was itself no small acquisition. But this\noccupation did for me what might seem less to be expected; it gave a\ngreat start to my powers of composition. Everything which I wrote\nsubsequently to this editorial employment, was markedly superior to\nanything that I had written before it. Bentham's later style, as the\nworld knows, was heavy and cumbersome, from the excess of a good\nquality, the love of precision, which made him introduce clause within\nclause into the heart of every sentence, that the reader might receive\ninto his mind all the modifications and qualifications simultaneously\nwith the main proposition: and the habit grew on him until his sentences\nbecame, to those not accustomed to them, most laborious reading. But his\nearlier style, that of the _Fragment on Government, Plan of a Judicial\nEstablishment_, etc., is a model of liveliness and ease combined with\nfulness of matter, scarcely ever surpassed: and of this earlier style\nthere were many striking specimens in the manuscripts on Evidence, all\nof which I endeavoured to preserve. So long a course of this admirable\nwriting had a considerable effect upon my own; and I added to it by the\nassiduous reading of other writers, both French and English, who\ncombined, in a remarkable degree, ease with force, such as Goldsmith,\nFielding, Pascal, Voltaire, and Courier. Through these influences my\nwriting lost the jejuneness of my early compositions; the bones and\ncartilages began to clothe themselves with flesh, and the style became,\nat times, lively and almost light.\n\nThis improvement was first exhibited in a new field. Mr. Marshall, of\nLeeds, father of the present generation of Marshalls, the same who was\nbrought into Parliament for Yorkshire, when the representation forfeited\nby Grampound was transferred to it, an earnest Parliamentary reformer,\nand a man of large fortune, of which he made a liberal use, had been\nmuch struck with Bentham's _Book of Fallacies_; and the thought had\noccurred to him that it would be useful to publish annually the\nParliamentary Debates, not in the chronological order of Hansard, but\nclassified according to subjects, and accompanied by a commentary\npointing out the fallacies of the speakers. With this intention, he very\nnaturally addressed himself to the editor of the _Book of Fallacies_;\nand Bingham, with the assistance of Charles Austin, undertook the\neditorship. The work was called _Parliamentary History and Review_. Its\nsale was not sufficient to keep it in existence, and it only lasted\nthree years. It excited, however, some attention among parliamentary and\npolitical people. The best strength of the party was put forth in it;\nand its execution did them much more credit than that of the\n_Westminster Review_ had ever done. Bingham and Charles Austin wrote\nmuch in it; as did Strutt, Romilly, and several other Liberal lawyers.\nMy father wrote one article in his best style; the elder Austin another.\nCoulson wrote one of great merit. It fell to my lot to lead off the\nfirst number by an article on the principal topic of the session (that\nof 1825), the Catholic Association and the Catholic Disabilities. In the\nsecond number I wrote an elaborate Essay on the Commercial Crisis of\n1825 and the Currency Debates. In the third I had two articles, one on\na minor subject, the other on the Reciprocity principle in commerce,\n_\u00e0 propos_ of a celebrated diplomatic correspondence between Canning\nand Gallatin. These writings were no longer mere reproductions and\napplications of the doctrines I had been taught; they were original\nthinking, as far as that name can be applied to old ideas in new forms\nand connexions: and I do not exceed the truth in saying that there was a\nmaturity, and a well-digested, character about them, which there had not\nbeen in any of my previous performances. In execution, therefore, they\nwere not at all juvenile; but their subjects have either gone by, or\nhave been so much better treated since, that they are entirely\nsuperseded, and should remain buried in the same oblivion with my\ncontributions to the first dynasty of the _Westminster Review_.\n\nWhile thus engaged in writing for the public, I did not neglect other\nmodes of self-cultivation. It was at this time that I learnt German;\nbeginning it on the Hamiltonian method, for which purpose I and several\nof my companions formed a class. For several years from this period, our\nsocial studies assumed a shape which contributed very much to my mental\nprogress. The idea occurred to us of carrying on, by reading and\nconversation, a joint study of several of the branches of science which\nwe wished to be masters of. We assembled to the number of a dozen or\nmore. Mr. Grote lent a room of his house in Threadneedle Street for the\npurpose, and his partner, Prescott, one of the three original members of\nthe Utilitarian Society, made one among us. We met two mornings in every\nweek, from half-past eight till ten, at which hour most of us were\ncalled off to our daily occupations. Our first subject was Political\nEconomy. We chose some systematic treatise as our text-book; my father's\n_Elements_ being our first choice. One of us read aloud a chapter, or\nsome smaller portion of the book. The discussion was then opened, and\nanyone who had an objection, or other remark to make, made it. Our rule\nwas to discuss thoroughly every point raised, whether great or small,\nprolonging the discussion until all who took part were satisfied with\nthe conclusion they had individually arrived at; and to follow up every\ntopic of collateral speculation which the chapter or the conversation\nsuggested, never leaving it until we had untied every knot which we\nfound. We repeatedly kept up the discussion of some one point for\nseveral weeks, thinking intently on it during the intervals of our\nmeetings, and contriving solutions of the new difficulties which had\nrisen up in the last morning's discussion. When we had finished in this\nway my father's _Elements_, we went in the same manner through Ricardo's\n_Principles of Political Economy_, and Bailey's _Dissertation on Value_.\nThese close and vigorous discussions were not only improving in a high\ndegree to those who took part in them, but brought out new views of some\ntopics of abstract Political Economy. The theory of International Values\nwhich I afterwards published, emanated from these conversations, as did\nalso the modified form of Ricardo's _Theory of Profits_, laid down in my\n_Essay on Profits and Interest_. Those among us with whom new\nspeculations chiefly originated, were Ellis, Graham, and I; though\nothers gave valuable aid to the discussions, especially Prescott and\nRoebuck, the one by his knowledge, the other by his dialectical\nacuteness. The theories of International Values and of Profits were\nexcogitated and worked out in about equal proportions by myself and\nGraham: and if our original project had been executed, my _Essays on\nSome Unsettled Questions of Political Economy_ would have been brought\nout along with some papers of his, under our joint names. But when my\nexposition came to be written, I found that I had so much over-estimated\nmy agreement with him, and he dissented so much from the most original\nof the two Essays, that on International Values, that I was obliged to\nconsider the theory as now exclusively mine, and it came out as such\nwhen published many years later. I may mention that among the\nalterations which my father made in revising his _Elements_ for the\nthird edition, several were founded on criticisms elicited by these\nconversations; and in particular he modified his opinions (though not to\nthe extent of our new speculations) on both the points to which I\nhave adverted.\n\nWhen we had enough of political economy, we took up the syllogistic\nlogic in the same manner, Grote now joining us. Our first text-book was\nAldrich, but being disgusted with its superficiality, we reprinted one\nof the most finished among the many manuals of the school logic, which\nmy father, a great collector of such books, possessed, the _Manuductio\nad Logicam_ of the Jesuit Du Trieu. After finishing this, we took up\nWhately's _Logic_, then first republished from the _Encyclopedia\nMetropolitana_, and finally the _Computatio sive Logica_ of Hobbes.\nThese books, dealt with in our manner, afforded a high range for\noriginal metaphysical speculation: and most of what has been done in the\nFirst Book of my _System of Logic_, to rationalize and correct the\nprinciples and distinctions of the school logicians, and to improve the\ntheory of the Import of Propositions, had its origin in these\ndiscussions; Graham and I originating most of the novelties, while Grote\nand others furnished an excellent tribunal or test. From this time I\nformed the project of writing a book on Logic, though on a much humbler\nscale than the one I ultimately executed.\n\nHaving done with Logic, we launched into Analytic Psychology, and having\nchosen Hartley for our text-book, we raised Priestley's edition to an\nextravagant price by searching through London to furnish each of us with\na copy. When we had finished Hartley, we suspended our meetings; but my\nfather's _Analysis of the Mind_ being published soon after, we\nreassembled for the purpose of reading it. With this our exercises\nended. I have always dated from these conversations my own real\ninauguration as an original and independent thinker. It was also through\nthem that I acquired, or very much strengthened, a mental habit to which\nI attribute all that I have ever done, or ever shall do, in speculation:\nthat of never accepting half-solutions of difficulties as complete;\nnever abandoning a puzzle, but again and again returning to it until it\nwas cleared up; never allowing obscure corners of a subject to remain\nunexplored, because they did not appear important; never thinking that I\nperfectly understood any part of a subject until I understood the whole.\n\nOur doings from 1825 to 1830 in the way of public speaking, filled a\nconsiderable place in my life during those years, and as they had\nimportant effects on my development, something ought to be said of them.\n\nThere was for some time in existence a society of Owenites, called the\nCo-operative Society, which met for weekly public discussions in\nChancery Lane. In the early part of 1825, accident brought Roebuck in\ncontact with several of its members, and led to his attending one or two\nof the meetings and taking part in the debate in opposition to Owenism.\nSome one of us started the notion of going there in a body and having a\ngeneral battle: and Charles Austin and some of his friends who did not\nusually take part in our joint exercises, entered into the project. It\nwas carried out by concert with the principal members of the Society,\nthemselves nothing loth, as they naturally preferred a controversy with\nopponents to a tame discussion among their own body. The question of\npopulation was proposed as the subject of debate: Charles Austin led the\ncase on our side with a brilliant speech, and the fight was kept up by\nadjournment through five or six weekly meetings before crowded\nauditories, including along with the members of the Society and their\nfriends, many hearers and some speakers from the Inns of Court. When\nthis debate was ended, another was commenced on the general merits of\nOwen's system: and the contest altogether lasted about three months. It\nwas a _lutte corps \u00e0 corps_ between Owenites and political economists,\nwhom the Owenites regarded as their most inveterate opponents: but it\nwas a perfectly friendly dispute. We who represented political economy,\nhad the same objects in view as they had, and took pains to show it; and\nthe principal champion on their side was a very estimable man, with whom\nI was well acquainted, Mr. William Thompson, of Cork, author of a book\non the Distribution of Wealth, and of an \" Appeal\" in behalf of women\nagainst the passage relating to them in my father's _Essay on\nGovernment_. Ellis, Roebuck, and I took an active part in the debate,\nand among those from the Inns of Court who joined in it, I remember\nCharles Villiers. The other side obtained also, on the population\nquestion, very efficient support from without. The well-known Gale\nJones, then an elderly man, made one of his florid speeches; but the\nspeaker with whom I was most struck, though I dissented from nearly\nevery word he said, was Thirlwall, the historian, since Bishop of St.\nDavid's, then a Chancery barrister, unknown except by a high reputation\nfor eloquence acquired at the Cambridge Union before the era of Austin\nand Macaulay. His speech was in answer to one of mine. Before he had\nuttered ten sentences, I set him down as the best speaker I had ever\nheard, and I have never since heard anyone whom I placed above him.\n\nThe great interest of these debates predisposed some of those who took\npart in them, to catch at a suggestion thrown out by McCulloch, the\npolitical economist, that a Society was wanted in London similar to the\nSpeculative Society at Edinburgh, in which Brougham, Horner, and others\nfirst cultivated public speaking. Our experience at the Co-operative\nSociety seemed to give cause for being sanguine as to the sort of men\nwho might be brought together in London for such a purpose. McCulloch\nmentioned the matter to several young men of influence, to whom he was\nthen giving private lessons in political economy. Some of these entered\nwarmly into the project, particularly George Villiers, after Earl of\nClarendon. He and his brothers, Hyde and Charles, Romilly, Charles\nAustin and I, with some others, met and agreed on a plan. We determined\nto meet once a fortnight from November to June, at the Freemasons'\nTavern, and we had soon a fine list of members, containing, along with\nseveral members of Parliament, nearly all the most noted speakers of the\nCambridge Union and of the Oxford United Debating Society. It is\ncuriously illustrative of the tendencies of the time, that our principal\ndifficulty in recruiting for the Society was to find a sufficient number\nof Tory speakers. Almost all whom we could press into the service were\nLiberals, of different orders and degrees. Besides those already named,\nwe had Macaulay, Thirlwall, Praed, Lord Howick, Samuel Wilberforce\n(afterwards Bishop of Oxford), Charles Poulett Thomson (afterwards Lord\nSydenham), Edward and Henry Lytton Bulwer, Fonblanque, and many others\nwhom I cannot now recollect, but who made themselves afterwards more or\nless conspicuous in public or literary life. Nothing could seem more\npromising. But when the time for action drew near, and it was necessary\nto fix on a President, and find somebody to open the first debate, none\nof our celebrities would consent to perform either office. Of the many\nwho were pressed on the subject, the only one who could be prevailed on\nwas a man of whom I knew very little, but who had taken high honours at\nOxford and was said to have acquired a great oratorical reputation\nthere; who some time afterwards became a Tory member of Parliament. He\naccordingly was fixed on, both for filling the President's chair and for\nmaking the first speech. The important day arrived; the benches were\ncrowded; all our great speakers were present, to judge of, but not to\nhelp our efforts. The Oxford orator's speech was a complete failure.\nThis threw a damp on the whole concern: the speakers who followed were\nfew, and none of them did their best: the affair was a complete\n_fiasco_; and the oratorical celebrities we had counted on went away\nnever to return, giving to me at least a lesson in knowledge of the\nworld. This unexpected breakdown altered my whole relation to the\nproject. I had not anticipated taking a prominent part, or speaking much\nor often, particularly at first, but I now saw that the success of the\nscheme depended on the new men, and I put my shoulder to the wheel. I\nopened the second question, and from that time spoke in nearly every\ndebate. It was very uphill work for some time. The three Villiers and\nRomilly stuck to us for some time longer, but the patience of all the\nfounders of the Society was at last exhausted, except me and Roebuck. In\nthe season following, 1826-7, things began to mend. We had acquired two\nexcellent Tory speakers, Hayward and Shee (afterwards Sergeant Shee):\nthe Radical side was reinforced by Charles Buller, Cockburn, and others\nof the second generation of Cambridge Benthamities; and with their and\nother occasional aid, and the two Tories as well as Roebuck and me for\nregular speakers, almost every debate was a _bataille rang\u00e9e_ between\nthe \"philosophic Radicals\" and the Tory lawyers; until our conflicts\nwere talked about, and several persons of note and consideration came to\nhear us. This happened still more in the subsequent seasons, 1828 and\n1829, when the Coleridgians, in the persons of Maurice and Sterling,\nmade their appearance in the Society as a second Liberal and even\nRadical party, on totally different grounds from Benthamism and\nvehemently opposed to it; bringing into these discussions the general\ndoctrines and modes of thought of the European reaction against the\nphilosophy of the eighteenth century; and adding a third and very\nimportant belligerent party to our contests, which were now no bad\nexponent of the movement of opinion among the most cultivated part of\nthe new generation. Our debates were very different from those of common\ndebating societies, for they habitually consisted of the strongest\narguments and most philosophic principles which either side was able to\nproduce, thrown often into close and _serr\u00e9_ confutations of one\nanother. The practice was necessarily very useful to us, and eminently\nso to me. I never, indeed, acquired real fluency, and had always a bad\nand ungraceful delivery; but I could make myself listened to: and as I\nalways wrote my speeches when, from the feelings involved, or the nature\nof the ideas to be developed, expression seemed important, I greatly\nincreased my power of effective writing; acquiring not only an ear for\nsmoothness and rhythm, but a practical sense for _telling_ sentences,\nand an immediate criterion of their telling property, by their effect on\na mixed audience.\n\nThe Society, and the preparation for it, together with the preparation\nfor the morning conversations which were going on simultaneously,\noccupied the greater part of my leisure; and made me feel it a relief\nwhen, in the spring of 1828, I ceased to write for the _Westminster_.\nThe _Review_ had fallen into difficulties. Though the sale of the first\nnumber had been very encouraging, the permanent sale had never, I\nbelieve, been sufficient to pay the expenses, on the scale on which the\n_Review_ was carried on. Those expenses had been considerably, but not\nsufficiently, reduced. One of the editors, Southern, had resigned; and\nseveral of the writers, including my father and me, who had been paid\nlike other contributors for our earlier articles, had latterly written\nwithout payment. Nevertheless, the original funds were nearly or quite\nexhausted, and if the _Review_ was to be continued some new arrangement\nof its affairs had become indispensable. My father and I had several\nconferences with Bowring on the subject. We were willing to do our\nutmost for maintaining the _Review_ as an organ of our opinions, but not\nunder Bowring's editorship: while the impossibility of its any longer\nsupporting a paid editor, afforded a ground on which, without affront to\nhim, we could propose to dispense with his services. We and some of our\nfriends were prepared to carry on the _Review_ as unpaid writers, either\nfinding among ourselves an unpaid editor, or sharing the editorship\namong us. But while this negotiation was proceeding with Bowring's\napparent acquiescence, he was carrying on another in a different quarter\n(with Colonel Perronet Thompson), of which we received the first\nintimation in a letter from Bowring as editor, informing us merely that\nan arrangement had been made, and proposing to us to write for the next\nnumber, with promise of payment. We did not dispute Bowring's right to\nbring about, if he could, an arrangement more favourable to himself than\nthe one we had proposed; but we thought the concealment which he had\npractised towards us, while seemingly entering into our own project, an\naffront: and even had we not thought so, we were indisposed to expend\nany more of our time and trouble in attempting to write up the _Review_\nunder his management. Accordingly my father excused himself from\nwriting; though two or three years later, on great pressure, he did\nwrite one more political article. As for me, I positively refused. And\nthus ended my connexion with the original _Westminster_. The last\narticle which I wrote in it had cost me more labour than any previous;\nbut it was a labour of love, being a defence of the early French\nRevolutionists against the Tory misrepresentations of Sir Walter Scott,\nin the introduction to his _Life of Napoleon_. The number of books which\nI read for this purpose, making notes and extracts--even the number I\nhad to buy (for in those days there was no public or subscription\nlibrary from which books of reference could be taken home)--far exceeded\nthe worth of the immediate object; but I had at that time a half-formed\nintention of writing a History of the French Revolution; and though I\nnever executed it, my collections afterwards were very useful to Carlyle\nfor a similar purpose.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nCRISIS IN MY MENTAL HISTORY. ONE STAGE ONWARD\n\n\nFor some years after this time I wrote very little, and nothing\nregularly, for publication: and great were the advantages which I\nderived from the intermission. It was of no common importance to me, at\nthis period, to be able to digest and mature my thoughts for my own mind\nonly, without any immediate call for giving them out in print. Had I\ngone on writing, it would have much disturbed the important\ntransformation in my opinions and character, which took place during\nthose years. The origin of this transformation, or at least the process\nby which I was prepared for it, can only be explained by turning some\ndistance back.\n\nFrom the winter of 1821, when I first read Bentham, and especially from\nthe commencement of the _Westminster Review_, I had what might truly be\ncalled an object in life; to be a reformer of the world. My conception\nof my own happiness was entirely identified with this object. The\npersonal sympathies I wished for were those of fellow labourers in this\nenterprise. I endeavoured to pick up as many flowers as I could by the\nway; but as a serious and permanent personal satisfaction to rest upon,\nmy whole reliance was placed on this; and I was accustomed to felicitate\nmyself on the certainty of a happy life which I enjoyed, through placing\nmy happiness in something durable and distant, in which some progress\nmight be always making, while it could never be exhausted by complete\nattainment. This did very well for several years, during which the\ngeneral improvement going on in the world and the idea of myself as\nengaged with others in struggling to promote it, seemed enough to fill\nup an interesting and animated existence. But the time came when I\nawakened from this as from a dream. It was in the autumn of 1826. I was\nin a dull state of nerves, such as everybody is occasionally liable to;\nunsusceptible to enjoyment or pleasurable excitement; one of those moods\nwhen what is pleasure at other times, becomes insipid or indifferent;\nthe state, I should think, in which converts to Methodism usually are,\nwhen smitten by their first \"conviction of sin.\" In this frame of mind\nit occurred to me to put the question directly to myself: \"Suppose that\nall your objects in life were realized; that all the changes in\ninstitutions and opinions which you are looking forward to, could be\ncompletely effected at this very instant: would this be a great joy and\nhappiness to you?\" And an irrepressible self-consciousness distinctly\nanswered, \"No!\" At this my heart sank within me: the whole foundation on\nwhich my life was constructed fell down. All my happiness was to have\nbeen found in the continual pursuit of this end. The end had ceased to\ncharm, and how could there ever again be any interest in the means? I\nseemed to have nothing left to live for.\n\nAt first I hoped that the cloud would pass away of itself; but it did\nnot. A night's sleep, the sovereign remedy for the smaller vexations of\nlife, had no effect on it. I awoke to a renewed consciousness of the\nwoful fact. I carried it with me into all companies, into all\noccupations. Hardly anything had power to cause me even a few minutes'\noblivion of it. For some months the cloud seemed to grow thicker and\nthicker. The lines in Coleridge's _Dejection_--I was not then acquainted\nwith them--exactly describe my case:\n\n   \"A grief without a pang, void, dark and drear,\n    A drowsy, stifled, unimpassioned grief,\n    Which finds no natural outlet or relief\n    In word, or sigh, or tear.\"\n\nIn vain I sought relief from my favourite books; those memorials of past\nnobleness and greatness from which I had always hitherto drawn strength\nand animation. I read them now without feeling, or with the accustomed\nfeeling minus all its charm; and I became persuaded, that my love of\nmankind, and of excellence for its own sake, had worn itself out. I\nsought no comfort by speaking to others of what I felt. If I had loved\nanyone sufficiently to make confiding my griefs a necessity, I should\nnot have been in the condition I was. I felt, too, that mine was not an\ninteresting, or in any way respectable distress. There was nothing in it\nto attract sympathy. Advice, if I had known where to seek it, would have\nbeen most precious. The words of Macbeth to the physician often occurred\nto my thoughts. But there was no one on whom I could build the faintest\nhope of such assistance. My father, to whom it would have been natural\nto me to have recourse in any practical difficulties, was the last\nperson to whom, in such a case as this, I looked for help. Everything\nconvinced me that he had no knowledge of any such mental state as I was\nsuffering from, and that even if he could be made to understand it, he\nwas not the physician who could heal it. My education, which was wholly\nhis work, had been conducted without any regard to the possibility of\nits ending in this result; and I saw no use in giving him the pain of\nthinking that his plans had failed, when the failure was probably\nirremediable, and, at all events, beyond the power of _his_ remedies. Of\nother friends, I had at that time none to whom I had any hope of making\nmy condition intelligible. It was, however, abundantly intelligible to\nmyself; and the more I dwelt upon it, the more hopeless it appeared.\n\nMy course of study had led me to believe, that all mental and moral\nfeelings and qualities, whether of a good or of a bad kind, were the\nresults of association; that we love one thing, and hate another, take\npleasure in one sort of action or contemplation, and pain in another\nsort, through the clinging of pleasurable or painful ideas to those\nthings, from the effect of education or of experience. As a corollary\nfrom this, I had always heard it maintained by my father, and was myself\nconvinced, that the object of education should be to form the strongest\npossible associations of the salutary class; associations of pleasure\nwith all things beneficial to the great whole, and of pain with all\nthings hurtful to it. This doctrine appeared inexpugnable; but it now\nseemed to me, on retrospect, that my teachers had occupied themselves\nbut superficially with the means of forming and keeping up these\nsalutary associations. They seemed to have trusted altogether to the old\nfamiliar instruments, praise and blame, reward and punishment. Now, I\ndid not doubt that by these means, begun early, and applied unremittingly,\nintense associations of pain and pleasure, especially of pain, might be\ncreated, and might produce desires and aversions capable of lasting\nundiminished to the end of life. But there must always be something\nartificial and casual in associations thus produced. The pains and\npleasures thus forcibly associated with things, are not connected with\nthem by any natural tie; and it is therefore, I thought, essential to\nthe durability of these associations, that they should have become so\nintense and inveterate as to be practically indissoluble, before the\nhabitual exercise of the power of analysis had commenced. For I now saw,\nor thought I saw, what I had always before received with incredulity\n--that the habit of analysis has a tendency to wear away the feelings:\nas indeed it has, when no other mental habit is cultivated, and the\nanalysing spirit remains without its natural complements and\ncorrectives. The very excellence of analysis (I argued) is that it tends\nto weaken and undermine whatever is the result of prejudice; that it\nenables us mentally to separate ideas which have only casually clung\ntogether: and no associations whatever could ultimately resist this\ndissolving force, were it not that we owe to analysis our clearest\nknowledge of the permanent sequences in nature; the real connexions\nbetween Things, not dependent on our will and feelings; natural laws,\nby virtue of which, in many cases, one thing is inseparable from another\nin fact; which laws, in proportion as they are clearly perceived and\nimaginatively realized, cause our ideas of things which are always\njoined together in Nature, to cohere more and more closely in our\nthoughts. Analytic habits may thus even strengthen the associations\nbetween causes and effects, means and ends, but tend altogether to\nweaken those which are, to speak familiarly, a _mere_ matter of feeling.\nThey are therefore (I thought) favourable to prudence and clear-\nsightedness, but a perpetual worm at the root both of the passions and\nof the virtues; and, above all, fearfully undermine all desires, and\nall pleasures, which are the effects of association, that is, according\nto the theory I held, all except the purely physical and organic; of the\nentire insufficiency of which to make life desirable, no one had a\nstronger conviction than I had. These were the laws of human nature, by\nwhich, as it seemed to me, I had been brought to my present state. All\nthose to whom I looked up, were of opinion that the pleasure of sympathy\nwith human beings, and the feelings which made the good of others, and\nespecially of mankind on a large scale, the object of existence, were\nthe greatest and surest sources of happiness. Of the truth of this I was\nconvinced, but to know that a feeling would make me happy if I had it,\ndid not give me the feeling. My education, I thought, had failed to\ncreate these feelings in sufficient strength to resist the dissolving\ninfluence of analysis, while the whole course of my intellectual\ncultivation had made precocious and premature analysis the inveterate\nhabit of my mind. I was thus, as I said to myself, left stranded at the\ncommencement of my voyage, with a well-equipped ship and a rudder, but\nno sail; without any real desire for the ends which I had been so\ncarefully fitted out to work for: no delight in virtue, or the general\ngood, but also just as little in anything else. The fountains of vanity\nand ambition seemed to have dried up within me, as completely as those\nof benevolence. I had had (as I reflected) some gratification of vanity\nat too early an age: I had obtained some distinction and felt myself of\nsome importance, before the desire of distinction and of importance had\ngrown into a passion: and little as it was which I had attained, yet\nhaving been attained too early, like all pleasures enjoyed too soon, it\nhad made me _blas\u00e9_ and indifferent to the pursuit. Thus neither selfish\nnor unselfish pleasures were pleasures to me. And there seemed no power\nin nature sufficient to begin the formation of my character anew, and\ncreate, in a mind now irretrievably analytic, fresh associations of\npleasure with any of the objects of human desire.\n\nThese were the thoughts which mingled with the dry, heavy dejection of\nthe melancholy winter of 1826-7. During this time I was not incapable of\nmy usual occupations. I went on with them mechanically, by the mere\nforce of habit. I had been so drilled in a certain sort of mental\nexercise, that I could still carry it on when all the spirit had gone\nout of it. I even composed and spoke several speeches at the debating\nsociety, how, or with what degree of success, I know not. Of four years'\ncontinual speaking at that society, this is the only year of which I\nremember next to nothing. Two lines of Coleridge, in whom alone of all\nwriters I have found a true description of what I felt, were often in my\nthoughts, not at this time (for I had never read them), but in a later\nperiod of the same mental malady:\n\n    \"Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve,\n     And hope without an object cannot live.\"\n\nIn all probability my case was by no means so peculiar as I fancied it,\nand I doubt not that many others have passed through a similar state;\nbut the idiosyncrasies of my education had given to the general\nphenomenon a special character, which made it seem the natural effect of\ncauses that it was hardly possible for time to remove. I frequently\nasked myself, if I could, or if I was bound to go on living, when life\nmust be passed in this manner. I generally answered to myself that I did\nnot think I could possibly bear it beyond a year. When, however, not\nmore than half that duration of time had elapsed, a small ray of light\nbroke in upon my gloom. I was reading, accidentally, Marmontel's\n_M\u00e9moires_, and came to the passage which relates his father's death,\nthe distressed position of the family, and the sudden inspiration by\nwhich he, then a mere boy, felt and made them feel that he would be\neverything to them--would supply the place of all that they had lost. A\nvivid conception of the scene and its feelings came over me, and I was\nmoved to tears. From this moment my burden grew lighter. The oppression\nof the thought that all feeling was dead within me was gone. I was no\nlonger hopeless: I was not a stock or a stone. I had still, it seemed,\nsome of the material out of which all worth of character, and all\ncapacity for happiness, are made. Relieved from my ever-present sense of\nirremediable wretchedness, I gradually found that the ordinary incidents\nof life could again give me some pleasure; that I could again find\nenjoyment, not intense, but sufficient for cheerfulness, in sunshine and\nsky, in books, in conversation, in public affairs; and that there was,\nonce more, excitement, though of a moderate, kind, in exerting myself\nfor my opinions, and for the public good. Thus the cloud gradually drew\noff, and I again enjoyed life; and though I had several relapses, some\nof which lasted many months, I never again was as miserable as I\nhad been.\n\nThe experiences of this period had two very marked effects on my opinions\nand character. In the first place, they led me to adopt a theory of life,\nvery unlike that on which I had before I acted, and having much in common\nwith what at that time I certainly had never heard of, the anti-self-\nconsciousness theory of Carlyle. I never, indeed, wavered in the conviction\nthat happiness is the test of all rules of conduct, and the end of life.\nBut I now thought that this end was only to be attained by not making it\nthe direct end. Those only are happy (I thought) who have their minds\nfixed on some object other than their own happiness; on the happiness of\nothers, on the improvement of mankind, even on some art or pursuit,\nfollowed not as a means, but as itself an ideal end. Aiming thus at\nsomething else, they find happiness by the way. The enjoyments of life\n(such was now my theory) are sufficient to make it a pleasant thing,\nwhen they are taken _en passant_, without being made a principal object.\nOnce make them so, and they are immediately felt to be insufficient.\nThey will not bear a scrutinizing examination. Ask yourself whether you\nare happy, and you cease to be so. The only chance is to treat, not\nhappiness, but some end external to it, as the purpose of life. Let your\nself-consciousness, your scrutiny, your self-interrogation, exhaust\nthemselves on that; and if otherwise fortunately circumstanced you will\ninhale happiness with the air you breathe, without dwelling on it or\nthinking about it, without either forestalling it in imagination, or\nputting it to flight by fatal questioning. This theory now became the\nbasis of my philosophy of life. And I still hold to it as the best\ntheory for all those who have but a moderate degree of sensibility and\nof capacity I for enjoyment; that is, for the great majority of mankind.\n\nThe other important change which my opinions at this time underwent, was\nthat I, for the first time, gave its proper place, among the prime\nnecessities of human well-being, to the internal culture of the\nindividual. I ceased to attach almost exclusive importance to the\nordering of outward circumstances, and the training of the human being\nfor speculation and for action.\n\nI had now learnt by experience that the passing susceptibilities needed\nto be cultivated as well as the active capacities, and required to be\nnourished and enriched as well as guided. I did not, for an instant,\nlose sight of, or undervalue, that part of the truth which I had seen\nbefore; I never turned recreant to intellectual culture, or ceased to\nconsider the power and practice of analysis as an essential condition\nboth of individual and of social improvement But 1 thought that it had\nconsequences which required to be corrected, by joining other kinds of\ncultivation with it. The maintenance of a due balance among the\nfaculties now seemed to be of primary importance. The cultivation of the\nfeelings became one of the cardinal points in my ethical and philosophical\ncreed. And my thoughts and inclinations turned in an increasing degree\ntowards whatever seemed capable of being instrumental to that object.\n\nI now began to find meaning in the things, which I had read or heard\nabout the importance of poetry and art as instruments of human culture.\nBut it was some time longer before I began to know this by personal\nexperience. The only one of the imaginative arts in which I had from\nchildhood taken great pleasure, was music; the best effect of which (and\nin this it surpasses perhaps every other art) consists in exciting\nenthusiasm; in winding up to a high pitch those feelings of an elevated\nkind which are already in the character, but to which this excitement\ngives a glow and a fervour, which, though transitory at its utmost\nheight, is precious for sustaining them at other times. This effect of\nmusic I had often experienced; but, like all my pleasurable\nsusceptibilities, it was suspended during the gloomy period. I had\nsought relief again and again from this quarter, but found none. After\nthe tide had turned, and I was in process of recovery, I had been helped\nforward by music, but in a much less elevated manner. I at this time\nfirst became acquainted with Weber's _Oberon_, and the extreme pleasure\nwhich I drew from its delicious melodies did me good by showing me a\nsource of pleasure to which I was as susceptible as ever. The good,\nhowever, was much impaired by the thought that the pleasure of music\n(as is quite true of such pleasure as this was, that of mere tune) fades\nwith familiarity, and requires either to be revived by intermittence, or\nfed by continual novelty. And it is very characteristic both of my then\nstate, and of the general tone of my mind at this period of my life,\nthat I was seriously tormented by the thought of the exhaustibility of\nmusical combinations. The octave consists only of five tones and two\nsemi-tones, which can be put together in only a limited number of ways,\nof which but a small proportion are beautiful: most of these, it seemed\nto me, must have been already discovered, and there could not be room\nfor a long succession of Mozarts and Webers, to strike out, as these had\ndone, entirely new and surpassingly rich veins of musical beauty. This\nsource of anxiety may, perhaps, be thought to resemble that of the\nphilosophers of Laputa, who feared lest the sun should be burnt out. It\nwas, however, connected with the best feature in my character, and the\nonly good point to be found in my very unromantic and in no way\nhonourable distress. For though my dejection, honestly looked at, could\nnot be called other than egotistical, produced by the ruin, as I thought,\nof my fabric of happiness, yet the destiny of mankind in general was ever\nin my thoughts, and could not be separated from my own. I felt that the\nflaw in my life, must be a flaw in life itself; that the question was,\nwhether, if the reformers of society and government could succeed in\ntheir objects, and every person in the community were free and in a state\nof physical comfort, the pleasures of life, being no longer kept up by\nstruggle and privation, would cease to be pleasures. And I felt that\nunless I could see my way to some better hope than this for human\nhappiness in general, my dejection must continue; but that if I could\nsee such an outlet, I should then look on the world with pleasure;\ncontent, as far as I was myself concerned, with any fair share of the\ngeneral lot.\n\nThis state of my thoughts and feelings made the fact of my reading\nWordsworth for the first time (in the autumn of 1828), an important\nevent of my life. I took up the collection of his poems from curiosity,\nwith no expectation of mental relief from it, though I had before\nresorted to poetry with that hope. In the worst period of my depression,\nI had read through the whole of Byron (then new to me), to try whether a\npoet, whose peculiar department was supposed to be that of the intenser\nfeelings, could rouse any feeling in me. As might be expected, I got no\ngood from this reading, but the reverse. The poet's state of mind was\ntoo like my own. His was the lament of a man who had worn out all\npleasures, and who seemed to think that life, to all who possess the\ngood things of it, must necessarily be the vapid, uninteresting thing\nwhich I found it. His Harold and Manfred had the same burden on them\nwhich I had; and I was not in a frame of mind to desire any comfort from\nthe vehement sensual passion of his Giaours, or the sullenness of his\nLaras. But while Byron was exactly what did not suit my condition,\nWordsworth was exactly what did. I had looked into the _Excursion_ two\nor three years before, and found little in it; and I should probably\nhave found as little, had I read it at this time. But the miscellaneous\npoems, in the two-volume edition of 1815 (to which little of value was\nadded in the latter part of the author's life), proved to be the precise\nthing for my mental wants at that particular juncture.\n\nIn the first place, these poems addressed themselves powerfully to one\nof the strongest of my pleasurable susceptibilities, the love of rural\nobjects and natural scenery; to which I had been indebted not only for\nmuch of the pleasure of my life, but quite recently for relief from one\nof my longest relapses into depression. In this power of rural beauty\nover me, there was a foundation laid for taking pleasure in Wordsworth's\npoetry; the more so, as his scenery lies mostly among mountains, which,\nowing to my early Pyrenean excursion, were my ideal of natural beauty.\nBut Wordsworth would never have had any great effect on me, if he had\nmerely placed before me beautiful pictures of natural scenery. Scott\ndoes this still better than Wordsworth, and a very second-rate landscape\ndoes it more effectually than any poet. What made Wordsworth's poems a\nmedicine for my state of mind, was that they expressed, not mere outward\nbeauty, but states of feeling, and of thought coloured by feeling, under\nthe excitement of beauty. They seemed to be the very culture of the\nfeelings, which I was in quest of. In them I seemed to draw from a\nsource of inward joy, of sympathetic and imaginative pleasure, which\ncould be shared in by all human beings; which had no connection with\nstruggle or imperfection, but would be made richer by every improvement\nin the physical or social condition of mankind. From them I seemed to\nlearn what would be the perennial sources of happiness, when all the\ngreater evils of life shall have been removed. And I felt myself at once\nbetter and happier as I came under their influence. There have certainly\nbeen, even in our own age, greater poets than Wordsworth; but poetry of\ndeeper and loftier feeling could not have done for me at that time what\nhis did. I needed to be made to feel that there was real, permanent\nhappiness in tranquil contemplation. Wordsworth taught me this, not only\nwithout turning away from, but with a greatly increased interest in, the\ncommon feelings and common destiny of human beings. And the delight\nwhich these poems gave me, proved that with culture of this sort, there\nwas nothing to dread from the most confirmed habit of analysis. At the\nconclusion of the Poems came the famous Ode, falsely called Platonic,\n\"Intimations of Immortality\": in which, along with more than his usual\nsweetness of melody and rhythm, and along with the two passages of grand\nimagery but bad philosophy so often quoted, I found that he too had had\nsimilar experience to mine; that he also had felt that the first\nfreshness of youthful enjoyment of life was not lasting; but that he had\nsought for compensation, and found it, in the way in which he was now\nteaching me to find it. The result was that I gradually, but completely,\nemerged from my habitual depression, and was never again subject to it.\nI long continued to value Wordsworth less according to his intrinsic\nmerits, than by the measure of what he had done for me. Compared with\nthe greatest poets, he may be said to be the poet of unpoetical natures,\npossessed of quiet and contemplative tastes. But unpoetical natures are\nprecisely those which require poetic cultivation. This cultivation\nWordsworth is much more fitted to give, than poets who are intrinsically\nfar more poets than he.\n\nIt so fell out that the merits of Wordsworth were the occasion of my\nfirst public declaration of my new way of thinking, and separation from\nthose of my habitual companions who had not undergone a similar change.\nThe person with whom at that time I was most in the habit of comparing\nnotes on such subjects was Roebuck, and I induced him to read\nWordsworth, in whom he also at first seemed to find much to admire: but\nI, like most Wordsworthians, threw myself into strong antagonism to\nByron, both as a poet and as to his influence on the character. Roebuck,\nall whose instincts were those of action and struggle, had, on the\ncontrary, a strong relish and great admiration of Byron, whose writings\nhe regarded as the poetry of human life, while Wordsworth's, according\nto him, was that of flowers and butterflies. We agreed to have the fight\nout at our Debating Society, where we accordingly discussed for two\nevenings the comparative merits of Byron and Wordsworth, propounding and\nillustrating by long recitations our respective theories of poetry:\nSterling also, in a brilliant speech, putting forward his particular\ntheory. This was the first debate on any weighty subject in which\nRoebuck and I had been on opposite sides. The schism between us widened\nfrom this time more and more, though we continued for some years longer\nto be companions. In the beginning, our chief divergence related to the\ncultivation of the feelings. Roebuck was in many respects very different\nfrom the vulgar notion of a Benthamite or Utilitarian. He was a lover of\npoetry and of most of the fine arts. He took great pleasure in music, in\ndramatic performances, especially in painting, and himself drew and\ndesigned landscapes with great facility and beauty. But he never could\nbe made to see that these things have any value as aids in the formation\nof character. Personally, instead of being, as Benthamites are supposed\nto be, void of feeling, he had very quick and strong sensibilities. But,\nlike most Englishmen who have feelings, he found his feelings stand very\nmuch in his way. He was much more susceptible to the painful sympathies\nthan to the pleasurable, and, looking for his happiness elsewhere, he\nwished that his feelings should be deadened rather than quickened. And,\nin truth, the English character, and English social circumstances, make\nit so seldom possible to derive happiness from the exercise of the\nsympathies, that it is not wonderful if they count for little in an\nEnglishman's scheme of life. In most other countries the paramount\nimportance of the sympathies as a constituent of individual happiness is\nan axiom, taken for granted rather than needing any formal statement;\nbut most English thinkers always seem to regard them as necessary evils,\nrequired for keeping men's actions benevolent and compassionate. Roebuck\nwas, or appeared to be, this kind of Englishman. He saw little good in\nany cultivation of the feelings, and none at all in cultivating them\nthrough the imagination, which he thought was only cultivating\nillusions. It was in vain I urged on him that the imaginative emotion\nwhich an idea, when vividly conceived, excites in us, is not an illusion\nbut a fact, as real as any of the other qualities of objects; and, far\nfrom implying anything erroneous and delusive in our mental apprehension\nof the object, is quite consistent with the most accurate knowledge and\nmost perfect practical recognition of all its physical and intellectual\nlaws and relations. The intensest feeling of the beauty of a cloud\nlighted by the setting sun, is no hindrance to my knowing that the cloud\nis vapour of water, subject to all the laws of vapours in a state of\nsuspension; and I am just as likely to allow for, and act on, these\nphysical laws whenever there is occasion to do so, as if I had been\nincapable of perceiving any distinction between beauty and ugliness.\n\nWhile my intimacy with Roebuck diminished, I fell more and more into\nfriendly intercourse with our Coleridgian adversaries in the Society,\nFrederick Maurice and John Sterling, both subsequently so well known,\nthe former by his writings, the latter through the biographies by Hare\nand Carlyle. Of these two friends, Maurice was the thinker, Sterling the\norator, and impassioned expositor of thoughts which, at this period,\nwere almost entirely formed for him by Maurice.\n\nWith Maurice I had for some time been acquainted through Eyton Tooke,\nwho had known him at Cambridge, and although my discussions with him\nwere almost always disputes, I had carried away from them much that\nhelped to build up my new fabric of thought, in the same way as I was\nderiving much from Coleridge, and from the writings of Goethe and other\nGerman authors which I read during these years. I have so deep a respect\nfor Maurice's character and purposes, as well as for his great mental\ngifts, that it is with some unwillingness I say anything which may seem\nto place him on a less high eminence than I would gladly be able to\naccord to him. But I have always thought that there was more\nintellectual power wasted in Maurice than in any other of my\ncontemporaries. Few of them certainly have had so much to waste. Great\npowers of generalization, rare ingenuity and subtlety, and a wide\nperception of important and unobvious truths, served him not for putting\nsomething better into the place of the worthless heap of received\nopinions on the great subjects of thought, but for proving to his own\nmind that the Church of England had known everything from the first, and\nthat all the truths on the ground of which the Church and orthodoxy have\nbeen attacked (many of which he saw as clearly as anyone) are not only\nconsistent with the Thirty-nine Articles, but are better understood and\nexpressed in those Articles than by anyone who rejects them. I have\nnever been able to find any other explanation of this, than by\nattributing it to that timidity of conscience, combined with original\nsensitiveness of temperament, which has so often driven highly gifted\nmen into Romanism, from the need of a firmer support than they can find\nin the independent conclusions of their own judgment. Any more vulgar\nkind of timidity no one who knew Maurice would ever think of imputing to\nhim, even if he had not given public proof of his freedom from it, by\nhis ultimate collision with some of the opinions commonly regarded as\northodox, and by his noble origination of the Christian Socialist\nmovement. The nearest parallel to him, in a moral point of view, is\nColeridge, to whom, in merely intellectual power, apart from poetical\ngenius, I think him decidedly superior. At this time, however, he might\nbe described as a disciple of Coleridge, and Sterling as a disciple of\nColeridge and of him. The modifications which were taking place in my\nold opinions gave me some points of contact with them; and both Maurice\nand Sterling were of considerable use to my development. With Sterling I\nsoon became very intimate, and was more attached to him than I have ever\nbeen to any other man. He was indeed one of the most lovable of men. His\nfrank, cordial, affectionate, and expansive character; a love of truth\nalike conspicuous in the highest things and the humblest; a generous and\nardent nature, which threw itself with impetuosity into the opinions it\nadopted, but was as eager to do justice to the doctrines and the men it\nwas opposed to, as to make war on what it thought their errors; and an\nequal devotion to the two cardinal points of Liberty and Duty, formed a\ncombination of qualities as attractive to me as to all others who knew\nhim as well as I did. With his open mind and heart, he found no\ndifficulty in joining hands with me across the gulf which as yet divided\nour opinions. He told me how he and others had looked upon me (from\nhearsay information), as a \"made\" or manufactured man, having had a\ncertain impress of opinion stamped on me which I could only reproduce;\nand what a change took place in his feelings when he found, in the\ndiscussion on Wordsworth and Byron, that Wordsworth, and all which that\nname implies, \"belonged\" to me as much as to him and his friends. The\nfailure of his health soon scattered all his plans of life, and\ncompelled him to live at a distance from London, so that after the first\nyear or two of our acquaintance, we only saw each other at distant\nintervals. But (as he said himself in one of his letters to Carlyle)\nwhen we did meet it was like brothers. Though he was never, in the full\nsense of the word, a profound thinker, his openness of mind, and the\nmoral courage in which he greatly surpassed Maurice, made him outgrow\nthe dominion which Maurice and Coleridge had once exercised over his\nintellect; though he retained to the last a great but discriminating\nadmiration of both, and towards Maurice a warm affection. Except in that\nshort and transitory phasis of his life, during which he made the\nmistake of becoming a clergyman, his mind was ever progressive: and the\nadvance he always seemed to have made when I saw him after an interval,\nmade me apply to him what Goethe said of Schiller, \"er hatte eine\nfurchtliche Fortschreitung.\" He and I started from intellectual points\nalmost as wide apart as the poles, but the distance between us was\nalways diminishing: if I made steps towards some of his opinions, he,\nduring his short life, was constantly approximating more and more to\nseveral of mine: and if he had lived, and had health and vigour to\nprosecute his ever assiduous self-culture, there is no knowing how much\nfurther this spontaneous assimilation might have proceeded.\n\nAfter 1829 I withdrew from attendance on the Debating Society. I had had\nenough of speech-making, and was glad to carry on my private studies and\nmeditations without any immediate call for outward assertion of their\nresults. I found the fabric of my old and taught opinions giving way in\nmany fresh places, and I never allowed it to fall to pieces, but was\nincessantly occupied in weaving it anew. I never, in the course of my\ntransition, was content to remain, for ever so short a time, confused\nand unsettled. When I had taken in any new idea, I could not rest till I\nhad adjusted its relation to my old opinions, and ascertained exactly\nhow far its effect ought to extend in modifying or superseding them.\n\nThe conflicts which I had so often had to sustain in defending the\ntheory of government laid down in Bentham's and my father's writings,\nand the acquaintance I had obtained with other schools of political\nthinking, made me aware of many things which that doctrine, professing\nto be a theory of government in general, ought to have made room for,\nand did not. But these things, as yet, remained with me rather as\ncorrections to be made in applying the theory to practice, than as\ndefects in the theory. I felt that politics could not be a science of\nspecific experience; and that the accusations against the Benthamic\ntheory of _being_ a theory, of proceeding _a priori_ by way of general\nreasoning, instead of Baconian experiment, showed complete ignorance of\nBacon's principles, and of the necessary conditions of experimental\ninvestigation. At this juncture appeared in the _Edinburgh Review_,\nMacaulay's famous attack on my father's _Essay on Government_. This gave\nme much to think about. I saw that Macaulay's conception of the logic of\npolitics was erroneous; that he stood up for the empirical mode of\ntreating political phenomena, against the philosophical; that even in\nphysical science his notions of philosophizing might have recognised\nKepler, but would have excluded Newton and Laplace. But I could not help\nfeeling, that though the tone was unbecoming (an error for which the\nwriter, at a later period, made the most ample and honourable amends),\nthere was truth in several of his strictures on my father's treatment of\nthe subject; that my father's premises were really too narrow, and\nincluded but a small number of the general truths on which, in politics,\nthe important consequences depend. Identity of interest between the\ngoverning body and the community at large is not, in any practical sense\nwhich can be attached to it, the only thing on which good government\ndepends; neither can this identity of interest be secured by the mere\nconditions of election. I was not at all satisfied with the mode in\nwhich my father met the criticisms of Macaulay. He did not, as I thought\nhe ought to have done, justify himself by saying, \"I was not writing a\nscientific treatise on politics, I was writing an argument for\nparliamentary reform.\" He treated Macaulay's argument as simply\nirrational; an attack upon the reasoning faculty; an example of the\nsaying of Hobbes, that When reason is against a man, a man will be\nagainst reason. This made me think that there was really something more\nfundamentally erroneous in my father's conception of philosophical\nmethod, as applicable to politics, than I had hitherto supposed there\nwas. But I did not at first see clearly what the error might be. At last\nit flashed upon me all at once in the course of other studies. In the\nearly part of 1830 I had begun to put on paper the ideas on Logic\n(chiefly on the distinctions among Terms, and the import of\nPropositions) which had been suggested and in part worked out in the\nmorning conversations already spoken of. Having secured these thoughts\nfrom being lost, I pushed on into the other parts of the subject, to try\nwhether I could do anything further towards clearing up the theory of\nlogic generally. I grappled at once with the problem of Induction,\npostponing that of Reasoning, on the ground that it is necessary to\nobtain premises before we can reason from them. Now, Induction is mainly\na process for finding the causes of effects: and in attempting to fathom\nthe mode of tracing causes and effects in physical science, I soon saw\nthat in the more perfect of the sciences, we ascend, by generalization\nfrom particulars, to the tendencies of causes considered singly, and\nthen reason downward from those separate tendencies, to the effect of\nthe same causes when combined. I then asked myself, what is the ultimate\nanalysis of this deductive process; the common theory of the syllogism\nevidently throwing no light upon it. My practice (learnt from Hobbes and\nmy father) being to study abstract principles by means of the best\nconcrete instances I could find, the Composition of Forces, in dynamics,\noccurred to me as the most complete example of the logical process I was\ninvestigating. On examining, accordingly, what the mind does when it\napplies the principle of the Composition of Forces, I found that it\nperforms a simple act of addition. It adds the separate effect of the\none force to the separate effect of the other, and puts down the sum of\nthese separate effects as the joint effect. But is this a legitimate\nprocess? In dynamics, and in all the mathematical branches of physics,\nit is; but in some other cases, as in chemistry, it is not; and I then\nrecollected that something not unlike this was pointed out as one of the\ndistinctions between chemical and mechanical phenomena, in the\nintroduction to that favourite of my boyhood, Thompson's _System of\nChemistry_. This distinction at once made my mind clear as to what was\nperplexing me in respect to the philosophy of politics. I now saw, that\na science is either deductive or experimental, according as, in the\nprovince it deals with, the effects of causes when conjoined, are or are\nnot the sums of the effects which the same causes produce when separate.\nIt followed that politics must be a deductive science. It thus appeared,\nthat both Macaulay and my father were wrong; the one in assimilating the\nmethod of philosophizing in politics to the purely experimental method\nof chemistry; while the other, though right in adopting a deductive\nmethod, had made a wrong selection of one, having taken as the type of\ndeduction, not the appropriate process, that of the deductive branches\nof natural philosophy, but the inappropriate one of pure geometry,\nwhich, not being a science of causation at all, does not require or\nadmit of any summing-up of effects. A foundation was thus laid in my\nthoughts for the principal chapters of what I afterwards published on\nthe Logic of the Moral Sciences; and my new position in respect to my\nold political creed, now became perfectly definite.\n\nIf I am asked, what system of political philosophy I substituted for\nthat which, as a philosophy, I had abandoned, I answer, No system: only\na conviction that the true system was something much more complex and\nmany-sided than I had previously had any idea of, and that its office\nwas to supply, not a set of model institutions, but principles from\nwhich the institutions suitable to any given circumstances might be\ndeduced. The influences of European, that is to say, Continental,\nthought, and especially those of the reaction of the nineteenth century\nagainst the eighteenth, were now streaming in upon me. They came from\nvarious quarters: from the writings of Coleridge, which I had begun to\nread with interest even before the change in my opinions; from the\nColeridgians with whom I was in personal intercourse; from what I had\nread of Goethe; from Carlyle's early articles in the _Edinburgh_ and\nForeign Reviews, though for a long time I saw nothing in these (as my\nfather saw nothing in them to the last) but insane rhapsody. From these\nsources, and from the acquaintance I kept up with the French literature\nof the time, I derived, among other ideas which the general turning\nupside down of the opinions of European thinkers had brought uppermost,\nthese in particular: That the human mind has a certain order of possible\nprogress, in which some things must precede others, an order which\ngovernments and public instructors can modify to some, but not to an\nunlimited extent: that all questions of political institutions are\nrelative, not absolute, and that different stages of human progress not\nonly _will_ have, but _ought_ to have, different institutions: that\ngovernment is always either in the hands, or passing into the hands, of\nwhatever is the strongest power in society, and that what this power is,\ndoes not depend on institutions, but institutions on it: that any\ngeneral theory or philosophy of politics supposes a previous theory of\nhuman progress, and that this is the same thing with a philosophy of\nhistory. These opinions, true in the main, were held in an exaggerated\nand violent manner by the thinkers with whom I was now most accustomed\nto compare notes, and who, as usual with a reaction, ignored that half\nof the truth which the thinkers of the eighteenth century saw. But\nthough, at one period of my progress, I for some time undervalued that\ngreat century, I never joined in the reaction against it, but kept as\nfirm hold of one side of the truth as I took of the other. The fight\nbetween the nineteenth century and the eighteenth always reminded me of\nthe battle about the shield, one side of which was white and the other\nblack. I marvelled at the blind rage with which the combatants rushed\nagainst one another. I applied to them, and to Coleridge himself, many\nof Coleridge's sayings about half truths; and Goethe's device,\n\"many-sidedness,\" was one which I would most willingly, at this period,\nhave taken for mine.\n\nThe writers by whom, more than by any others, a new mode of political\nthinking was brought home to me, were those of the St. Simonian school\nin France. In 1829 and 1830 I became acquainted with some of their\nwritings. They were then only in the earlier stages of their\nspeculations. They had not yet dressed out their philosophy as a\nreligion, nor had they organized their scheme of Socialism. They were\njust beginning to question the principle of hereditary property. I was\nby no means prepared to go with them even this length; but I was greatly\nstruck with the connected view which they for the first time presented\nto me, of the natural order of human progress; and especially with their\ndivision of all history into organic periods and critical periods.\nDuring the organic periods (they said) mankind accept with firm\nconviction some positive creed, claiming jurisdiction over all their\nactions, and containing more or less of truth and adaptation to the\nneeds of humanity. Under its influence they make all the progress\ncompatible with the creed, and finally outgrow it; when a period follows\nof criticism and negation, in which mankind lose their old convictions\nwithout acquiring any new ones, of a general or authoritative character,\nexcept the conviction that the old are false. The period of Greek and\nRoman polytheism, so long as really believed in by instructed Greeks and\nRomans, was an organic period, succeeded by the critical or sceptical\nperiod of the Greek philosophers. Another organic period came in with\nChristianity. The corresponding critical period began with the\nReformation, has lasted ever since, still lasts, and cannot altogether\ncease until a new organic period has been inaugurated by the triumph of\na yet more advanced creed. These ideas, I knew, were not peculiar to the\nSt. Simonians; on the contrary, they were the general property of\nEurope, or at least of Germany and France, but they had never, to my\nknowledge, been so completely systematized as by these writers, nor the\ndistinguishing characteristics of a critical period so powerfully set\nforth; for I was not then acquainted with Fichte's _Lectures on the\nCharacteristics of the Present Age_. In Carlyle, indeed, I found bitter\ndenunciations of an \"age of unbelief,\" and of the present age as such,\nwhich I, like most people at that time, supposed to be passionate\nprotests in favour of the old modes of belief. But all that was true in\nthese denunciations, I thought that I found more calmly and\nphilosophically stated by the St. Simonians. Among their publications,\ntoo, there was one which seemed to me far superior to the rest; in which\nthe general idea was matured into something much more definite and\ninstructive. This was an early work of Auguste Comte, who then called\nhimself, and even announced himself in the title-page as, a pupil of\nSaint Simon. In this tract M. Comte first put forth the doctrine, which\nhe afterwards so copiously illustrated, of the natural succession of\nthree stages in every department of human knowledge: first, the\ntheological, next the metaphysical, and lastly, the positive stage; and\ncontended, that social science must be subject to the same law; that the\nfeudal and Catholic system was the concluding phasis of the theological\nstate of the social science, Protestantism the commencement, and the\ndoctrines of the French Revolution the consummation, of the\nmetaphysical; and that its positive state was yet to come. This doctrine\nharmonized well with my existing notions, to which it seemed to give a\nscientific shape. I already regarded the methods of physical science as\nthe proper models for political. But the chief benefit which I derived\nat this time from the trains of thought suggested by the St. Simonians\nand by Comte, was, that I obtained a clearer conception than ever before\nof the peculiarities of an era of transition in opinion, and ceased to\nmistake the moral and intellectual characteristics of such an era, for\nthe normal attributes of humanity. I looked forward, through the present\nage of loud disputes but generally weak convictions, to a future which\nshall unite the best qualities of the critical with the best qualities\nof the organic periods; unchecked liberty of thought, unbounded freedom\nof individual action in all modes not hurtful to others; but also,\nconvictions as to what is right and wrong, useful and pernicious, deeply\nengraven on the feelings by early education and general unanimity of\nsentiment, and so firmly grounded in reason and in the true exigencies\nof life, that they shall not, like all former and present creeds,\nreligious, ethical, and political, require to be periodically thrown off\nand replaced by others.\n\nM. Comte soon left the St. Simonians, and I lost sight of him and his\nwritings for a number of years. But the St. Simonians I continued to\ncultivate. I was kept _au courant_ of their progress by one of their\nmost enthusiastic disciples, M. Gustave d'Eichthal, who about that time\npassed a considerable interval in England. I was introduced to their\nchiefs, Bazard and Enfantin, in 1830; and as long as their public\nteachings and proselytism continued, I read nearly everything they\nwrote. Their criticisms on the common doctrines of Liberalism seemed to\nme full of important truth; and it was partly by their writings that my\neyes were opened to the very limited and temporary value of the old\npolitical economy, which assumes private property and inheritance as\nindefeasible facts, and freedom of production and exchange as the\n_dernier mot_ of social improvement. The scheme gradually unfolded by\nthe St. Simonians, under which the labour and capital of society would\nbe managed for the general account of the community, every individual\nbeing required to take a share of labour, either as thinker, teacher,\nartist, or producer, all being classed according to their capacity, and\nremunerated according to their work, appeared to me a far superior\ndescription of Socialism to Owen's. Their aim seemed to me desirable and\nrational, however their means might be inefficacious; and though I\nneither believed in the practicability, nor in the beneficial operation\nof their social machinery, I felt that the proclamation of such an ideal\nof human society could not but tend to give a beneficial direction to\nthe efforts of others to bring society, as at present constituted,\nnearer to some ideal standard. I honoured them most of all for what they\nhave been most cried down for--the boldness and freedom from prejudice\nwith which they treated the subject of the family, the most important of\nany, and needing more fundamental alterations than remain to be made in\nany other great social institution, but on which scarcely any reformer\nhas the courage to touch. In proclaiming the perfect equality of men and\nwomen, and an entirely new order of things in regard to their relations\nwith one another, the St. Simonians, in common with Owen and Fourier,\nhave entitled themselves to the grateful remembrance of future\ngenerations.\n\nIn giving an account of this period of my life, I have only specified\nsuch of my new impressions as appeared to me, both at the time and\nsince, to be a kind of turning points, marking a definite progress in my\nmode of thought. But these few selected points give a very insufficient\nidea of the quantity of thinking which I carried on respecting a host of\nsubjects during these years of transition. Much of this, it is true,\nconsisted in rediscovering things known to all the world, which I had\npreviously disbelieved or disregarded. But the rediscovery was to me a\ndiscovery, giving me plenary possession of the truths, not as\ntraditional platitudes, but fresh from their source; and it seldom\nfailed to place them in some new light, by which they were reconciled\nwith, and seemed to confirm while they modified, the truths less\ngenerally known which lay in my early opinions, and in no essential part\nof which I at any time wavered. All my new thinking only laid the\nfoundation of these more deeply and strongly, while it often removed\nmisapprehension and confusion of ideas which had perverted their effect.\nFor example, during the later returns of my dejection, the doctrine of\nwhat is called Philosophical Necessity weighed on my existence like an\nincubus. I felt as if I was scientifically proved to be the helpless\nslave of antecedent circumstances; as if my character and that of all\nothers had been formed for us by agencies beyond our control, and was\nwholly out of our own power. I often said to myself, what a relief it\nwould be if I could disbelieve the doctrine of the formation of\ncharacter by circumstances; and remembering the wish of Fox respecting\nthe doctrine of resistance to governments, that it might never be\nforgotten by kings, nor remembered by subjects, I said that it would be\na blessing if the doctrine of necessity could be believed by all _quoad_\nthe characters of others, and disbelieved in regard to their own. I\npondered painfully on the subject till gradually I saw light through it.\nI perceived, that the word Necessity, as a name for the doctrine of\nCause and Effect applied to human action, carried with it a misleading\nassociation; and that this association was the operative force in the\ndepressing and paralysing influence which I had experienced: I saw that\nthough our character is formed by circumstances, our own desires can do\nmuch to shape those circumstances; and that what is really inspiriting\nand ennobling in the doctrine of freewill is the conviction that we have\nreal power over the formation of our own character; that our will, by\ninfluencing some of our circumstances, can modify our future habits or\ncapabilities of willing. All this was entirely consistent with the\ndoctrine of circumstances, or rather, was that doctrine itself, properly\nunderstood. From that time I drew, in my own mind, a clear distinction\nbetween the doctrine of circumstances and Fatalism; discarding\naltogether the misleading word Necessity. The theory, which I now for\nthe first time rightly apprehended, ceased altogether to be\ndiscouraging; and, besides the relief to my spirits, I no longer\nsuffered under the burden--so heavy to one who aims at being a reformer\nin opinions--of thinking one doctrine true and the contrary doctrine\nmorally beneficial. The train of thought which had extricated me from\nthis dilemma seemed to me, in after years, fitted to render a similar\nservice to others; and it now forms the chapter on Liberty and Necessity\nin the concluding Book of my _System of Logic_.\n\nAgain, in politics, though I no longer accepted the doctrine of the\n_Essay on Government_ as a scientific theory; though I ceased to\nconsider representative democracy as an absolute principle, and regarded\nit as a question of time, place, and circumstance; though I now looked\nupon the choice of political institutions as a moral and educational\nquestion more than one of material interests, thinking that it ought to\nbe decided mainly by the consideration, what great improvement in life\nand culture stands next in order for the people concerned, as the\ncondition of their further progress, and what institutions are most\nlikely to promote that; nevertheless, this change in the premises of my\npolitical philosophy did not alter my practical political creed as to\nthe requirements of my own time and country. I was as much as ever a\nRadical and Democrat for Europe, and especially for England. I thought\nthe predominance of the aristocratic classes, the noble and the rich, in\nthe English constitution, an evil worth any struggle to get rid of; not\non account of taxes, or any such comparatively small inconvenience, but\nas the great demoralizing agency in the country. Demoralizing, first,\nbecause it made the conduct of the Government an example of gross public\nimmorality, through the predominance of private over public interests in\nthe State, and the abuse of the powers of legislation for the advantage\nof classes. Secondly, and in a still greater degree, because the respect\nof the multitude always attaching itself principally to that which, in\nthe existing state of society, is the chief passport to power; and under\nEnglish institutions, riches, hereditary or acquired, being the almost\nexclusive source of political importance; riches, and the signs of\nriches, were almost the only things really respected, and the life of\nthe people was mainly devoted to the pursuit of them. I thought, that\nwhile the higher and richer classes held the power of government, the\ninstruction and improvement of the mass of the people were contrary to\nthe self-interest of those classes, because tending to render the people\nmore powerful for throwing off the yoke: but if the democracy obtained a\nlarge, and perhaps the principal share, in the governing power, it would\nbecome the interest of the opulent classes to promote their education,\nin order to ward off really mischievous errors, and especially those\nwhich would lead to unjust violations of property. On these grounds I\nwas not only as ardent as ever for democratic institutions, but\nearnestly hoped that Owenite, St. Simonian, and all other anti-property\ndoctrines might spread widely among the poorer classes; not that I\nthought those doctrines true, or desired that they should be acted on,\nbut in order that the higher classes might be made to see that they had\nmore to fear from the poor when uneducated than when educated.\n\nIn this frame of mind the French Revolution of July found me: It roused\nmy utmost enthusiasm, and gave me, as it were, a new existence. I went\nat once to Paris, was introduced to Lafayette, and laid the groundwork\nof the intercourse I afterwards kept up with several of the active\nchiefs of the extreme popular party. After my return I entered warmly,\nas a writer, into the political discussions of the time; which soon\nbecame still more exciting, by the coming in of Lord Grey's Ministry,\nand the proposing of the Reform Bill. For the next few years I wrote\ncopiously in newspapers. It was about this time that Fonblanque, who had\nfor some time written the political articles in the _Examiner_, became\nthe proprietor and editor of the paper. It is not forgotten with what\nverve and talent, as well as fine wit, he carried it on, during the\nwhole period of Lord Grey's Ministry, and what importance it assumed as\nthe principal representative, in the newspaper press, of Radical\nopinions. The distinguishing character of the paper was given to it\nentirely by his own articles, which formed at least three-fourths of all\nthe original writing contained in it: but of the remaining fourth I\ncontributed during those years a much larger share than anyone else. I\nwrote nearly all the articles on French subjects, including a weekly\nsummary of French politics, often extending to considerable length;\ntogether with many leading articles on general politics, commercial and\nfinancial legislation, and any miscellaneous subjects in which I felt\ninterested, and which were suitable to the paper, including occasional\nreviews of books. Mere newspaper articles on the occurrences or\nquestions of the moment, gave no opportunity for the development of any\ngeneral mode of thought; but I attempted, in the beginning of 1831, to\nembody in a series of articles, headed \"The Spirit of the Age,\" some of\nmy new opinions, and especially to point out in the character of the\npresent age, the anomalies and evils characteristic of the transition\nfrom a system of opinions which had worn out, to another only in process\nof being formed. These articles, were, I fancy, lumbering in style, and\nnot lively or striking enough to be, at any time, acceptable to\nnewspaper readers; but had they been far more attractive, still, at that\nparticular moment, when great political changes were impending, and\nengrossing all minds, these discussions were ill-timed, and missed fire\naltogether. The only effect which I know to have been produced by them,\nwas that Carlyle, then living in a secluded part of Scotland, read them\nin his solitude, and, saying to himself (as he afterwards told me) \"Here\nis a new Mystic,\" inquired on coming to London that autumn respecting\ntheir authorship; an inquiry which was the immediate cause of our\nbecoming personally acquainted.\n\nI have already mentioned Carlyle's earlier writings as one of the\nchannels through which I received the influences which enlarged my early\nnarrow creed; but I do not think that those writings, by themselves,\nwould ever have had any effect on my opinions. What truths they\ncontained, though of the very kind which I was already receiving from\nother quarters, were presented in a form and vesture less suited than\nany other to give them access to a mind trained as mine had been. They\nseemed a haze of poetry and German metaphysics, in which almost the only\nclear thing was a strong animosity to most of the opinions which were\nthe basis of my mode of thought; religious scepticism, utilitarianism,\nthe doctrine of circumstances, and the attaching any importance to\ndemocracy, logic, or political economy. Instead of my having been taught\nanything, in the first instance, by Carlyle, it was only in proportion\nas I came to see the same truths through media more suited to my mental\nconstitution, that I recognised them in his writings. Then, indeed, the\nwonderful power with which he put them forth made a deep impression upon\nme, and I was during a long period one of his most fervent admirers; but\nthe good his writings did me, was not as philosophy to instruct, but as\npoetry to animate. Even at the time when our acquaintance commenced, I\nwas not sufficiently advanced in my new modes of thought to appreciate\nhim fully; a proof of which is, that on his showing me the manuscript of\n_Sartor Resartus_, his best and greatest work, which he just then\nfinished, I made little of it; though when it came out about two years\nafterwards in _Fraser's Magazine_ I read it with enthusiastic admiration\nand the keenest delight. I did not seek and cultivate Carlyle less on\naccount of the fundamental differences in our philosophy. He soon found\nout that I was not \"another mystic,\" and when for the sake of my own\nintegrity I wrote to him a distinct profession of all those of my\nopinions which I knew he most disliked, he replied that the chief\ndifference between us was that I \"was as yet consciously nothing of a\nmystic.\" I do not know at what period he gave up the expectation that I\nwas destined to become one; but though both his and my opinions\nunderwent in subsequent years considerable changes, we never approached\nmuch nearer to each other's modes of thought than we were in the first\nyears of our acquaintance. I did not, however, deem myself a competent\njudge of Carlyle. I felt that he was a poet, and that I was not; that he\nwas a man of intuition, which I was not; and that as such, he not only\nsaw many things long before me, which I could only, when they were\npointed out to me, hobble after and prove, but that it was highly\nprobable he could see many things which were not visible to me even\nafter they were pointed out. I knew that I could not see round him, and\ncould never be certain that I saw over him; and I never presumed to\njudge him with any definiteness, until he was interpreted to me by one\ngreatly the superior of us both--who was more a poet than he, and more a\nthinker than I--whose own mind and nature included his, and\ninfinitely more.\n\nAmong the persons of intellect whom I had known of old, the one with\nwhom I had now most points of agreement was the elder Austin. I have\nmentioned that he always set himself in opposition to our early\nsectarianism; and latterly he had, like myself, come under new\ninfluences. Having been appointed Professor of Jurisprudence in the\nLondon University (now University College), he had lived for some time\nat Bonn to study for his Lectures; and the influences of German\nliterature and of the German character and state of society had made a\nvery perceptible change in his views of life. His personal disposition\nwas much softened; he was less militant and polemic; his tastes had\nbegun to turn themselves towards the poetic and contemplative. He\nattached much less importance than formerly to outward changes; unless\naccompanied by a better cultivation of the inward nature. He had a\nstrong distaste for the general meanness of English life, the absence of\nenlarged thoughts and unselfish desires, the low objects on which the\nfaculties of all classes of the English are intent. Even the kind of\npublic interests which Englishmen care for, he held in very little\nesteem. He thought that there was more practical good government, and\n(which is true enough) infinitely more care for the education and mental\nimprovement of all ranks of the people, under the Prussian monarchy,\nthan under the English representative government: and he held, with the\nFrench _Economistes_, that the real security for good government is un\n_peuple \u00e9clair\u00e9_, which is not always the fruit of popular institutions,\nand which, if it could be had without them, would do their work better\nthan they. Though he approved of the Reform Bill, he predicted, what in\nfact occurred, that it would not produce the great immediate\nimprovements in government which many expected from it. The men, he\nsaid, who could do these great things did not exist in the country.\nThere were many points of sympathy between him and me, both in the new\nopinions he had adopted and in the old ones which he retained. Like me,\nhe never ceased to be a utilitarian, and, with all his love for the\nGermans and enjoyment of their literature, never became in the smallest\ndegree reconciled to the innate-principle metaphysics. He cultivated\nmore and more a kind of German religion, a religion of poetry and\nfeeling with little, if anything, of positive dogma; while in politics\n(and here it was that I most differed with him) he acquired an\nindifference, bordering on contempt, for the progress of popular\ninstitutions: though he rejoiced in that of Socialism, as the most\neffectual means of compelling the powerful classes to educate the\npeople, and to impress on them the only real means of permanently\nimproving their material condition, a limitation of their numbers.\nNeither was he, at this time, fundamentally opposed to Socialism in\nitself as an ultimate result of improvement. He professed great\ndisrespect for what he called \"the universal principles of human nature\nof the political economists,\" and insisted on the evidence which history\nand daily experience afford of the \"extraordinary pliability of human\nnature\" (a phrase which I have somewhere borrowed from him); nor did he\nthink it possible to set any positive bounds to the moral capabilities\nwhich might unfold themselves in mankind, under an enlightened direction\nof social and educational influences. Whether he retained all these\nopinions to the end of life I know not. Certainly the modes of thinking\nof his later years, and especially of his last publication, were much\nmore Tory in their general character than those which he held at\nthis time.\n\nMy father's tone of thought and feeling, I now felt myself at a great\ndistance from: greater, indeed, than a full and calm explanation and\nreconsideration on both sides, might have shown to exist in reality. But\nmy father was not one with whom calm and full explanations on\nfundamental points of doctrine could be expected, at least with one whom\nhe might consider as, in some sort, a deserter from his standard.\nFortunately we were almost always in strong agreement on the political\nquestions of the day, which engrossed a large part of his interest and\nof his conversation. On those matters of opinion on which we differed,\nwe talked little. He knew that the habit of thinking for myself, which\nhis mode of education had fostered, sometimes led me to opinions\ndifferent from his, and he perceived from time to time that I did not\nalways tell him _how_ different. I expected no good, but only pain to\nboth of us, from discussing our differences: and I never expressed them\nbut when he gave utterance to some opinion or feeling repugnant to mine,\nin a manner which would have made it disingenuousness on my part to\nremain silent.\n\nIt remains to speak of what I wrote during these years, which,\nindependently of my contributions to newspapers, was considerable. In\n1830 and 1831 I wrote the five Essays since published under the title of\n_Essays on some Unsettled Questions of political Economy_, almost as\nthey now stand, except that in 1833 I partially rewrote the fifth Essay.\nThey were written with no immediate purpose of publication; and when,\nsome years later, I offered them to a publisher, he declined them. They\nwere only printed in 1844, after the success of the _System of Logic_. I\nalso resumed my speculations on this last subject, and puzzled myself,\nlike others before me, with the great paradox of the discovery of new\ntruths by general reasoning. As to the fact, there could be no doubt. As\nlittle could it be doubted, that all reasoning is resolvable into\nsyllogisms, and that in every syllogism the conclusion is actually\ncontained and implied in the premises. How, being so contained and\nimplied, it could be new truth, and how the theorems of geometry, so\ndifferent in appearance from the definitions and axioms, could be all\ncontained in these, was a difficulty which no, one, I thought, had\nsufficiently felt, and which, at all events, no one had succeeded in\nclearing up. The explanations offered by Whately and others, though they\nmight give a temporary satisfaction, always, in my mind, left a mist\nstill hanging over the subject. At last, when reading a second or third\ntime the chapters on Reasoning in the second volume of Dugald Stewart,\ninterrogating myself on every point, and following out, as far as I knew\nhow, every topic of thought which the book suggested, I came upon an\nidea of his respecting the use of axioms in ratiocination, which I did\nnot remember to have before noticed, but which now, in meditating on it,\nseemed to me not only true of axioms, but of all general propositions\nwhatever, and to be the key of the whole perplexity. From this germ grew\nthe theory of the Syllogism propounded in the Second Book of the\n_Logic_; which I immediately fixed by writing it out. And now, with\ngreatly increased hope of being able to produce a work on Logic, of some\noriginality and value, I proceeded to write the First Book, from the\nrough and imperfect draft I had already made. What I now wrote became\nthe basis of that part of the subsequent Treatise; except that it did\nnot contain the Theory of Kinds, which was a later addition, suggested\nby otherwise inextricable difficulties which met me in my first attempt\nto work out the subject of some of the concluding chapters of the Third\nBook. At the point which I had now reached I made a halt, which lasted\nfive years. I had come to the end of my tether; I could make nothing\nsatisfactory of Induction, at this time. I continued to read any book\nwhich seemed to promise light on the subject, and appropriated, as well\nas I could, the results; but for a long time I found nothing which\nseemed to open to me any very important vein of meditation.\n\nIn 1832 I wrote several papers for the first series of _Tait's\nMagazine_, and one for a quarterly periodical called the _Jurist_, which\nhad been founded, and for a short time carried on, by a set of friends,\nall lawyers and law reformers, with several of whom I was acquainted.\nThe paper in question is the one on the rights and duties of the State\nrespecting Corporation and Church Property, now standing first among the\ncollected _Dissertations and Discussions_; where one of my articles in\n_Tait_, \"The Currency Juggle,\" also appears. In the whole mass of what\nI wrote previous to these, there is nothing of sufficient permanent\nvalue to justify reprinting. The paper in the _Jurist_, which I still\nthink a very complete discussion of the rights of the State over\nFoundations, showed both sides of my opinions, asserting as firmly as I\nshould have done at any time, the doctrine that all endowments are\nnational property, which the government may and ought to control; but\nnot, as I should once have done, condemning endowments in themselves,\nand proposing that they should be taken to pay off the national debt. On\nthe contrary, I urged strenuously the importance of a provision for\neducation, not dependent on the mere demand of the market, that is, on\nthe knowledge and discernment of average parents, but calculated to\nestablish and keep up a higher standard of instruction than is likely to\nbe spontaneously demanded by the buyers of the article. All these\nopinions have been confirmed and strengthened by the whole of my\nsubsequent reflections.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nCOMMENCEMENT OF THE MOST VALUABLE FRIENDSHIP OF MY LIFE. MY\nFATHER'S DEATH. WRITINGS AND OTHER PROCEEDINGS UP TO 1840.\n\n\nIt was the period of my mental progress which I have now reached that I\nformed the friendship which has been the honour and chief blessing of my\nexistence, as well as the source of a great part of all that I have\nattempted to do, or hope to effect hereafter, for human improvement. My\nfirst introduction to the lady who, after a friendship of twenty years,\nconsented to become my wife, was in 1830, when I was in my twenty-fifth\nand she in her twenty-third year. With her husband's family it was the\nrenewal of an old acquaintanceship. His grandfather lived in the next\nhouse to my father's in Newington Green, and I had sometimes when a boy\nbeen invited to play in the old gentleman's garden. He was a fine\nspecimen of the old Scotch puritan; stern, severe, and powerful, but\nvery kind to children, on whom such men make a lasting impression.\nAlthough it was years after my introduction to Mrs. Taylor before my\nacquaintance with her became at all intimate or confidential, I very\nsoon felt her to be the most admirable person I had ever known. It is\nnot to be supposed that she was, or that any one, at the age at which I\nfirst saw her, could be, all that she afterwards became. Least of all\ncould this be true of her, with whom self-improvement, progress in the\nhighest and in all senses, was a law of her nature; a necessity equally\nfrom the ardour with which she sought it, and from the spontaneous\ntendency of faculties which could not receive an impression or an\nexperience without making it the source or the occasion of an accession\nof wisdom. Up to the time when I first saw her, her rich and powerful\nnature had chiefly unfolded itself according to the received type of\nfeminine genius. To her outer circle she was a beauty and a wit, with an\nair of natural distinction, felt by all who approached her: to the\ninner, a woman of deep and strong feeling, of penetrating and intuitive\nintelligence, and of an eminently meditative and poetic nature. Married\nat an early age to a most upright, brave, and honourable man, of liberal\nopinions and good education, but without the intellectual or artistic\ntastes which would have made him a companion for her, though a steady\nand affectionate friend, for whom she had true esteem and the strongest\naffection through life, and whom she most deeply lamented when dead;\nshut out by the social disabilities of women from any adequate exercise\nof her highest faculties in action on the world without; her life was\none of inward meditation, varied by familiar intercourse with a small\ncircle of friends, of whom one only (long since deceased) was a person\nof genius, or of capacities of feeling or intellect kindred with her\nown, but all had more or less of alliance with her in sentiments and\nopinions. Into this circle I had the good fortune to be admitted, and I\nsoon perceived that she possessed in combination, the qualities which in\nall other persons whom I had known I had been only too happy to find\nsingly. In her, complete emancipation from every kind of superstition\n(including that which attributes a pretended perfection to the order of\nnature and the universe), and an earnest protest against many things\nwhich are still part of the established constitution of society,\nresulted not from the hard intellect, but from strength of noble and\nelevated feeling, and co-existed with a highly reverential nature. In\ngeneral spiritual characteristics, as well as in temperament and\norganisation, I have often compared her, as she was at this time, to\nShelley: but in thought and intellect, Shelley, so far as his powers\nwere developed in his short life, was but a child compared with what she\nultimately became. Alike in the highest regions of speculation and in\nthe smaller practical concerns of daily life, her mind was the same\nperfect instrument, piercing to the very heart and marrow of the matter;\nalways seizing the essential idea or principle. The same exactness and\nrapidity of operation, pervading as it did her sensitive as well as her\nmental faculties, would, with her gifts of feeling and imagination, have\nfitted her to be a consummate artist, as her fiery and tender soul and\nher vigorous eloquence would certainly have made her a great orator, and\nher profound knowledge of human nature and discernment and sagacity in\npractical life, would, in the times when such a _carri\u00e8re_ was open to\nwomen, have made her eminent among the rulers of mankind. Her\nintellectual gifts did but minister to a moral character at once the\nnoblest and the best balanced which I have ever met with in life. Her\nunselfishness was not that of a taught system of duties, but of a heart\nwhich thoroughly identified itself with the feelings of others, and\noften went to excess in consideration for them by imaginatively\ninvesting their feelings with the intensity of its own. The passion of\njustice might have been thought to be her strongest feeling, but for her\nboundless generosity, and a lovingness ever ready to pour itself forth\nupon any or all human beings who were capable of giving the smallest\nfeeling in return. The rest of her moral characteristics were such as\nnaturally accompany these qualities of mind and heart: the most genuine\nmodesty combined with the loftiest pride; a simplicity and sincerity\nwhich were absolute, towards all who were fit to receive them; the\nutmost scorn of whatever was mean and cowardly, and a burning\nindignation at everything brutal or tyrannical, faithless or\ndishonourable in conduct and character, while making the broadest\ndistinction between _mala in se_ and mere _mala prohibita_--between acts\ngiving evidence of intrinsic badness in feeling and character, and those\nwhich are only violations of conventions either good or bad, violations\nwhich, whether in themselves right or wrong, are capable of being\ncommitted by persons in every other respect lovable or admirable.\n\nTo be admitted into any degree of mental intercourse with a being of\nthese qualities, could not but have a most beneficial influence on my\ndevelopment; though the effect was only gradual, and many years elapsed\nbefore her mental progress and mine went forward in the complete\ncompanionship they at last attained. The benefit I received was far\ngreater than any which I could hope to give; though to her, who had at\nfirst reached her opinions by the moral intuition of a character of\nstrong feeling, there was doubtless help as well as encouragement to be\nderived from one who had arrived at many of the same results by study\nand reasoning: and in the rapidity of her intellectual growth, her\nmental activity, which converted everything into knowledge, doubtless\ndrew from me, as it did from other sources, many of its materials. What\nI owe, even intellectually, to her, is in its detail, almost infinite;\nof its general character a few words will give some, though a very\nimperfect, idea.\n\nWith those who, like all the best and wisest of mankind, are\ndissatisfied with human life as it is, and whose feelings are wholly\nidentified with its radical amendment, there are two main regions of\nthought. One is the region of ultimate aims; the constituent elements of\nthe highest realizable ideal of human life. The other is that of the\nimmediately useful and practically attainable. In both these departments,\nI have acquired more from her teaching, than from all other sources\ntaken together. And, to say truth, it is in these two extremes\nprincipally, that real certainty lies. My own strength lay wholly in the\nuncertain and slippery intermediate region, that of theory, or moral and\npolitical science: respecting the conclusions of which, in any of the\nforms in which I have received or originated them, whether as political\neconomy, analytic psychology, logic, philosophy of history, or anything\nelse, it is not the least of my intellectual obligations to her that I\nhave derived from her a wise scepticism, which, while it has not\nhindered me from following out the honest exercise of my thinking\nfaculties to whatever conclusions might result from it, has put me on my\nguard against holding or announcing these conclusions with a degree of\nconfidence which the nature of such speculations does not warrant, and\nhas kept my mind not only open to admit, but prompt to welcome and eager\nto seek, even on the questions on which I have most meditated, any\nprospect of clearer perceptions and better evidence. I have often\nreceived praise, which in my own right I only partially deserve, for the\ngreater practicality which is supposed to be found in my writings,\ncompared with those of most thinkers who have been equally addicted to\nlarge generalizations. The writings in which this quality has been\nobserved, were not the work of one mind, but of the fusion of two, one\nof them as pre-eminently practical in its judgments and perceptions of\nthings present, as it was high and bold in its anticipations for a\nremote futurity. At the present period, however, this influence was only\none among many which were helping to shape the character of my future\ndevelopment: and even after it became, I may truly say, the presiding\nprinciple of my mental progress, it did not alter the path, but only\nmade me move forward more boldly, and, at the same time, more\ncautiously, in the same course. The only actual revolution which has\never taken place in my modes of thinking, was already complete. My new\ntendencies had to be confirmed in some respects, moderated in others:\nbut the only substantial changes of opinion that were yet to come,\nrelated to politics, and consisted, on one hand, in a greater\napproximation, so far as regards the ultimate prospects of humanity, to\na qualified Socialism, and on the other, a shifting of my political\nideal from pure democracy, as commonly understood by its partisans, to\nthe modified form of it, which is set forth in my _Considerations on\nRepresentative Government_.\n\nThis last change, which took place very gradually, dates its\ncommencement from my reading, or rather study, of M. de Tocqueville's\n_Democracy in America_, which fell into my hands immediately after its\nfirst appearance. In that remarkable work, the excellences of democracy\nwere pointed out in a more conclusive, because a more specific manner\nthan I had ever known them to be, even by the most enthusiastic\ndemocrats; while the specific dangers which beset democracy, considered\nas the government of the numerical majority, were brought into equally\nstrong light, and subjected to a masterly analysis, not as reasons for\nresisting what the author considered as an inevitable result of human\nprogress, but as indications of the weak points of popular government,\nthe defences by which it needs to be guarded, and the correctives which\nmust be added to it in order that while full play is given to its\nbeneficial tendencies, those which are of a different nature may be\nneutralized or mitigated. I was now well prepared for speculations of\nthis character, and from this time onward my own thoughts moved more and\nmore in the same channel, though the consequent modifications in my\npractical political creed were spread over many years, as would be shown\nby comparing my first review of _Democracy in America_, written and\npublished in 1835, with the one in 1840 (reprinted in the _Dissertations_),\nand this last, with the _Considerations on Representative Government_.\n\nA collateral subject on which also I derived great benefit from the\nstudy of Tocqueville, was the fundamental question of centralization.\nThe powerful philosophic analysis which he applied to American and to\nFrench experience, led him to attach the utmost importance to the\nperformance of as much of the collective business of society, as can\nsafely be so performed, by the people themselves, without any\nintervention of the executive government, either to supersede their\nagency, or to dictate the manner of its exercise. He viewed this\npractical political activity of the individual citizen, not only as one\nof the most effectual means of training the social feelings and\npractical intelligence of the people, so important in themselves and so\nindispensable to good government, but also as the specific counteractive\nto some of the characteristic infirmities of democracy, and a necessary\nprotection against its degenerating into the only despotism of which, in\nthe modern world, there is real danger--the absolute rule of the head\nof the executive over a congregation of isolated individuals, all equals\nbut all slaves. There was, indeed, no immediate peril from this source\non the British side of the channel, where nine-tenths of the internal\nbusiness which elsewhere devolves on the government, was transacted by\nagencies independent of it; where centralization was, and is, the\nsubject not only of rational disapprobation, but of unreasoning\nprejudice; where jealousy of Government interference was a blind feeling\npreventing or resisting even the most beneficial exertion of legislative\nauthority to correct the abuses of what pretends to be local\nself-government, but is, too often, selfish mismanagement of local\ninterests, by a jobbing and _born\u00e9_ local oligarchy. But the more\ncertain the public were to go wrong on the side opposed to\ncentralization, the greater danger was there lest philosophic reformers\nshould fall into the contrary error, and overlook the mischiefs of which\nthey had been spared the painful experience. I was myself, at this very\ntime, actively engaged in defending important measures, such as the\ngreat Poor Law Reform of 1834, against an irrational clamour grounded on\nthe anti-centralization prejudice: and had it not been for the lessons\nof Tocqueville, I do not know that I might not, like many reformers\nbefore me, have been hurried into the excess opposite to that, which,\nbeing the one prevalent in my own country, it was generally my business\nto combat. As it is, I have steered carefully between the two errors,\nand whether I have or have not drawn the line between them exactly in\nthe right place, I have at least insisted with equal emphasis upon the\nevils on both sides, and have made the means of reconciling the\nadvantages of both, a subject of serious study.\n\nIn the meanwhile had taken place the election of the first Reformed\nParliament, which included several of the most notable of my Radical\nfriends and acquaintances--Grote, Roebuck, Buller, Sir William\nMolesworth, John and Edward Romilly, and several more; besides\nWarburton, Strutt, and others, who were in parliament already. Those who\nthought themselves, and were called by their friends, the philosophic\nRadicals, had now, it seemed, a fair opportunity, in a more advantageous\nposition than they had ever before occupied, for showing what was in\nthem; and I, as well as my father, founded great hopes on them. These\nhopes were destined to be disappointed. The men were honest, and\nfaithful to their opinions, as far as votes were concerned; often in\nspite of much discouragement. When measures were proposed, flagrantly at\nvariance with their principles, such as the Irish Coercion Bill, or the\nCanada Coercion in 1837, they came forward manfully, and braved any\namount of hostility and prejudice rather than desert the right. But on\nthe whole they did very little to promote any opinions; they had little\nenterprise, little activity: they left the lead of the Radical portion\nof the House to the old hands, to Hume and O'Connell. A partial\nexception must be made in favour of one or two of the younger men; and\nin the case of Roebuck, it is his title to permanent remembrance, that\nin the very first year during which he sat in Parliament, he originated\n(or re-originated after the unsuccessful attempt of Mr. Brougham) the\nparliamentary movement for National Education; and that he was the first\nto commence, and for years carried on almost alone, the contest for the\nself-government of the Colonies. Nothing, on the whole equal to these\ntwo things, was done by any other individual, even of those from whom\nmost was expected. And now, on a calm retrospect, I can perceive that\nthe men were less in fault than we supposed, and that we had expected\ntoo much from them. They were in unfavourable circumstances. Their lot\nwas cast in the ten years of inevitable reaction, when, the Reform\nexcitement being over, and the few legislative improvements which the\npublic really called for having been rapidly effected, power gravitated\nback in its natural direction, to those who were for keeping things as\nthey were; when the public mind desired rest, and was less disposed than\nat any other period since the Peace, to let itself be moved by attempts\nto work up the Reform feeling into fresh activity in favour of new\nthings. It would have required a great political leader, which no one is\nto be blamed for not being, to have effected really great things by\nparliamentary discussion when the nation was in this mood. My father and\nI had hoped that some competent leader might arise; some man of\nphilosophic attainments and popular talents, who could have put heart\ninto the many younger or less distinguished men that would have been\nready to join him--could have made them available, to the extent of\ntheir talents, in bringing advanced ideas before the public--could\nhave used the House of Commons as a rostra or a teacher's chair for\ninstructing and impelling the public mind; and would either have forced\nthe Whigs to receive their measures from him, or have taken the lead of\nthe Reform party out of their hands. Such a leader there would have\nbeen, if my father had been in Parliament. For want of such a man, the\ninstructed Radicals sank into a mere _C\u00f4t\u00e9 Gauche_ of the Whig party.\nWith a keen, and as I now think, an exaggerated sense of the\npossibilities which were open to the Radicals if they made even ordinary\nexertion for their opinions, I laboured from this time till 1839, both\nby personal influence with some of them, and by writings, to put ideas\ninto their heads, and purpose into their hearts. I did some good with\nCharles Buller, and some with Sir William Molesworth; both of whom did\nvaluable service, but were unhappily cut off almost in the beginning of\ntheir usefulness. On the whole, however, my attempt was vain. To have\nhad a chance of succeeding in it, required a different position from\nmine. It was a task only for one who, being himself in Parliament, could\nhave mixed with the Radical members in daily consultation, could himself\nhave taken the initiative, and instead of urging others to lead, could\nhave summoned them to follow.\n\nWhat I could do by writing, I did. During the year 1833 I continued\nworking in the _Examiner_ with Fonblanque who at that time was zealous\nin keeping up the fight for Radicalism against the Whig ministry. During\nthe session of 1834 I wrote comments on passing events, of the nature of\nnewspaper articles (under the title \"Notes on the Newspapers\"), in the\n_Monthly Repository_, a magazine conducted by Mr. Fox, well known as a\npreacher and political orator, and subsequently as member of parliament\nfor Oldham; with whom I had lately become acquainted, and for whose sake\nchiefly I wrote in his magazine. I contributed several other articles\nto this periodical, the most considerable of which (on the theory of\nPoetry), is reprinted in the \"Dissertations.\" Altogether, the writings\n(independently of those in newspapers) which I published from 1832 to\n1834, amount to a large volume. This, however, includes abstracts of\nseveral of Plato's Dialogues, with introductory remarks, which, though\nnot published until 1834, had been written several years earlier; and\nwhich I afterwards, on various occasions, found to have been read, and\ntheir authorship known, by more people than were aware of anything else\nwhich I had written, up to that time. To complete the tale of my\nwritings at this period, I may add that in 1833, at the request of\nBulwer, who was just then completing his _England and the English_ (a\nwork, at that time, greatly in advance of the public mind), I wrote for\nhim a critical account of Bentham's philosophy, a small part of which\nhe incorporated in his text, and printed the rest (with an honourable\nacknowledgment), as an appendix. In this, along with the favourable,\na part also of the unfavourable side of my estimation of Bentham's\ndoctrines, considered as a complete philosophy, was for the first time\nput into print.\n\nBut an opportunity soon offered, by which, as it seemed, I might have it\nin my power to give more effectual aid, and at the same time, stimulus,\nto the \"philosophic Radical\" party, than I had done hitherto. One of the\nprojects occasionally talked of between my father and me, and some of\nthe parliamentary and other Radicals who frequented his house, was the\nfoundation of a periodical organ of philosophic radicalism, to take the\nplace which the _Westminster Review_ had been intended to fill: and the\nscheme had gone so far as to bring under discussion the pecuniary\ncontributions which could be looked for, and the choice of an editor.\nNothing, however, came of it for some time: but in the summer of 1834\nSir William Molesworth, himself a laborious student, and a precise and\nmetaphysical thinker, capable of aiding the cause by his pen as well as\nby his purse, spontaneously proposed to establish a Review, provided I\nwould consent to be the real, if I could not be the ostensible, editor.\nSuch a proposal was not to be refused; and the Review was founded, at\nfirst under the title of the _London Review_, and afterwards under that\nof the _London and Westminster_, Molesworth having bought the\n_Westminster_ from its proprietor, General Thompson, and merged the two\ninto one. In the years between 1834 and 1840 the conduct of this Review\noccupied the greater part of my spare time. In the beginning, it did\nnot, as a whole, by any means represent my opinions. I was under the\nnecessity of conceding much to my inevitable associates. The _Review_\nwas established to be the representative of the \"philosophic Radicals,\"\nwith most of whom I was now at issue on many essential points, and among\nwhom I could not even claim to be the most important individual. My\nfather's co-operation as a writer we all deemed indispensable, and he\nwrote largely in it until prevented by his last illness. The subjects of\nhis articles, and the strength and decision with which his opinions were\nexpressed in them, made the _Review_ at first derive its tone and\ncolouring from him much more than from any of the other writers. I could\nnot exercise editorial control over his articles, and I was sometimes\nobliged to sacrifice to him portions of my own. The old _Westminster\nReview_ doctrines, but little modified, thus formed the staple of the\n_Review_; but I hoped by the side of these, to introduce other ideas and\nanother tone, and to obtain for my own shade of opinion a fair\nrepresentation, along with those of other members of the party. With\nthis end chiefly in view, I made it one of the peculiarities of the work\nthat every article should bear an initial, or some other signature, and\nbe held to express the opinions solely of the individual writer; the\neditor being only responsible for its being worth publishing and not in\nconflict with the objects for which the _Review_ was set on foot. I had\nan opportunity of putting in practice my scheme of conciliation between\nthe old and the new \"philosophic radicalism,\" by the choice of a subject\nfor my own first contribution. Professor Sedgwick, a man of eminence in\na particular walk of natural science, but who should not have trespassed\ninto philosophy, had lately published his _Discourse on the Studies of\nCambridge_, which had as its most prominent feature an intemperate\nassault on analytic psychology and utilitarian ethics, in the form of an\nattack on Locke and Paley. This had excited great indignation in my\nfather and others, which I thought it fully deserved. And here, I\nimagined, was an opportunity of at the same time repelling an unjust\nattack, and inserting into my defence of Hartleianism and Utilitarianism\na number of the opinions which constituted my view of those subjects, as\ndistinguished from that of my old associates. In this I partially\nsucceeded, though my relation to my father would have made it painful to\nme in any case, and impossible in a Review for which he wrote, to speak\nout my whole mind on the subject at this time.\n\nI am, however, inclined to think that my father was not so much opposed\nas he seemed, to the modes of thought in which I believed myself to\ndiffer from him; that he did injustice to his own opinions by the\nunconscious exaggerations of an intellect emphatically polemical; and\nthat when thinking without an adversary in view, he was willing to make\nroom for a great portion of the truths he seemed to deny. I have\nfrequently observed that he made large allowance in practice for\nconsiderations which seemed to have no place in his theory. His\n_Fragment on Mackintosh_, which he wrote and published about this time,\nalthough I greatly admired some parts of it, I read as a whole with more\npain than pleasure; yet on reading it again, long after, I found little\nin the opinions it contains, but what I think in the main just; and I\ncan even sympathize in his disgust at the _verbiage_ of Mackintosh,\nthough his asperity towards it went not only beyond what was judicious,\nbut beyond what was even fair. One thing, which I thought, at the time,\nof good augury, was the very favourable reception he gave to\nTocqueville's _Democracy in America_. It is true, he said and thought\nmuch more about what Tocqueville said in favour of democracy, than about\nwhat he said of its disadvantages. Still, his high appreciation of a\nbook which was at any rate an example of a mode of treating the question\nof government almost the reverse of his--wholly inductive and analytical,\ninstead of purely ratiocinative--gave me great encouragement. He also\napproved of an article which I published in the first number following\nthe junction of the two reviews, the essay reprinted in the _Dissertations_,\nunder the title \"Civilization\"; into which I threw many of my new opinions,\nand criticised rather emphatically the mental and moral tendencies of the\ntime, on grounds and in a manner which I certainly had not learnt from him.\n\nAll speculation, however, on the possible future developments of my\nfather's opinions, and on the probabilities of permanent co-operation\nbetween him and me in the promulgation of our thoughts, was doomed to be\ncut short. During the whole of 1835 his health had been declining: his\nsymptoms became unequivocally those of pulmonary consumption, and after\nlingering to the last stage of debility, he died on the 23rd of June,\n1836. Until the last few days of his life there was no apparent\nabatement of intellectual vigour; his interest in all things and persons\nthat had interested him through life was undiminished, nor did the\napproach of death cause the smallest wavering (as in so strong and firm\na mind it was impossible that it should) in his convictions on the\nsubject of religion. His principal satisfaction, after he knew that his\nend was near, seemed to be the thought of what he had done to make the\nworld better than he found it; and his chief regret in not living\nlonger, that he had not had time to do more.\n\nHis place is an eminent one in the literary, and even in the political\nhistory of his country; and it is far from honourable to the generation\nwhich has benefited by his worth, that he is so seldom mentioned, and,\ncompared with men far his inferiors, so little remembered. This is\nprobably to be ascribed mainly to two causes. In the first place, the\nthought of him merges too much in the deservedly superior fame of\nBentham. Yet he was anything but Bentham's mere follower or disciple.\nPrecisely because he was himself one of the most original thinkers of\nhis time, he was one of the earliest to appreciate and adopt the most\nimportant mass of original thought which had been produced by the\ngeneration preceding him. His mind and Bentham's were essentially of\ndifferent construction. He had not all Bentham's high qualities, but\nneither had Bentham all his. It would, indeed, be ridiculous to claim\nfor him the praise of having accomplished for mankind such splendid\nservices as Bentham's. He did not revolutionize, or rather create, one\nof the great departments of human thought. But, leaving out of the\nreckoning all that portion of his labours in which he benefited by what\nBentham had done, and counting only what he achieved in a province in\nwhich Bentham had done nothing, that of analytic psychology, he will be\nknown to posterity as one of the greatest names in that most important\nbranch of speculation, on which all the moral and political sciences\nultimately rest, and will mark one of the essential stages in its\nprogress. The other reason which has made his fame less than he\ndeserved, is that notwithstanding the great number of his opinions\nwhich, partly through his own efforts, have now been generally adopted,\nthere was, on the whole, a marked opposition between his spirit and that\nof the present time. As Brutus was called the last of the Romans, so was\nhe the last of the eighteenth century: he continued its tone of thought\nand sentiment into the nineteenth (though not unmodified nor\nunimproved), partaking neither in the good nor in the bad influences of\nthe reaction against the eighteenth century, which was the great\ncharacteristic of the first half of the nineteenth. The eighteenth\ncentury was a great age, an age of strong and brave men, and he was a\nfit companion for its strongest and bravest. By his writings and his\npersonal influence he was a great centre of light to his generation.\nDuring his later years he was quite as much the head and leader of the\nintellectual radicals in England, as Voltaire was of the _philosophes_\nof France. It is only one of his minor merits, that he was the\noriginator of all sound statesmanship in regard to the subject of his\nlargest work, India. He wrote on no subject which he did not enrich with\nvaluable thought, and excepting the _Elements of Political Economy_, a\nvery useful book when first written, but which has now for some time\nfinished its work, it will be long before any of his books will be\nwholly superseded, or will cease to be instructive reading to students\nof their subjects. In the power of influencing by mere force of mind and\ncharacter, the convictions and purposes of others, and in the strenuous\nexertion of that power to promote freedom and progress, he left, as far\nas my knowledge extends, no equal among men and but one among women.\n\nThough acutely sensible of my own inferiority in the qualities by which\nhe acquired his personal ascendancy, I had now to try what it might be\npossible for me to accomplish without him: and the _Review_ was the\ninstrument on which I built my chief hopes of establishing a useful\ninfluence over the liberal and democratic section of the public mind.\nDeprived of my father's aid, I was also exempted from the restraints and\nreticences by which that aid had been purchased. I did not feel that\nthere was any other radical writer or politician to whom I was bound to\ndefer, further than consisted with my own opinions: and having the\ncomplete confidence of Molesworth, I resolved henceforth to give full\nscope to my own opinions and modes of thought, and to open the _Review_\nwidely to all writers who were in sympathy with Progress as I understood\nit, even though I should lose by it the support of my former associates.\nCarlyle, consequently became from this time a frequent writer in the\n_Review_; Sterling, soon after, an occasional one; and though each\nindividual article continued to be the expression of the private\nsentiments of its writer, the general tone conformed in some tolerable\ndegree to my opinions. For the conduct of the _Review_, under, and in\nconjunction with me, I associated with myself a young Scotchman of the\nname of Robertson, who had some ability and information, much industry,\nand an active scheming head, full of devices for making the _Review_\nmore saleable, and on whose capacities in that direction I founded a\ngood deal of hope: insomuch, that when Molesworth, in the beginning of\n1837, became tired of carrying on the _Review_ at a loss, and desirous\nof getting rid of it (he had done his part honourably, and at no small\npecuniary cost,) I, very imprudently for my own pecuniary interest, and\nvery much from reliance on Robertson's devices, determined to continue\nit at my own risk, until his plans should have had a fair trial. The\ndevices were good, and I never had any reason to change my opinion of\nthem. But I do not believe that any devices would have made a radical\nand democratic review defray its expenses, including a paid editor or\nsub-editor, and a liberal payment to writers. I myself and several\nfrequent contributors gave our labour gratuitously, as we had done for\nMolesworth; but the paid contributors continued to be remunerated on the\nusual scale of the _Edinburgh_ and _Quarterly Reviews_; and this could\nnot be done from the proceeds of the sale.\n\nIn the same year, 1837, and in the midst of these occupations, I resumed\nthe _Logic_. I had not touched my pen on the subject for five years,\nhaving been stopped and brought to a halt on the threshold of Induction.\nI had gradually discovered that what was mainly wanting, to overcome the\ndifficulties of that branch of the subject, was a comprehensive, and, at\nthe same time, accurate view of the whole circle of physical science,\nwhich I feared it would take me a long course of study to acquire; since\nI knew not of any book, or other guide, that would spread out before me\nthe generalities and processes of the sciences, and I apprehended that I\nshould have no choice but to extract them for myself, as I best could,\nfrom the details. Happily for me, Dr. Whewell, early in this year,\npublished his _History of the Inductive Sciences_. I read it with\neagerness, and found in it a considerable approximation to what I\nwanted. Much, if not most, of the philosophy of the work appeared open\nto objection; but the materials were there, for my own thoughts to work\nupon: and the author had given to those materials that first degree of\nelaboration, which so greatly facilitates and abridges the subsequent\nlabour. I had now obtained what I had been waiting for. Under the\nimpulse given me by the thoughts excited by Dr. Whewell, I read again\nSir J. Herschel's _Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy_: and I\nwas able to measure the progress my mind had made, by the great help I\nnow found in this work--though I had read and even reviewed it several\nyears before with little profit. I now set myself vigorously to work out\nthe subject in thought and in writing. The time I bestowed on this had\nto be stolen from occupations more urgent. I had just two months to\nspare, at this period, in the intervals of writing for the _Review_. In\nthese two months I completed the first draft of about a third, the most\ndifficult third, of the book. What I had before written, I estimate at\nanother third, so that one-third remained. What I wrote at this time\nconsisted of the remainder of the doctrine of Reasoning (the theory of\nTrains of Reasoning, and Demonstrative Science), and the greater part of\nthe Book on Induction. When this was done, I had, as it seemed to me,\nuntied all the really hard knots, and the completion of the book had\nbecome only a question of time. Having got thus far, I had to leave off\nin order to write two articles for the next number of the _Review_. When\nthese were written, I returned to the subject, and now for the first\ntime fell in with Comte's _Cours de Philosophie Positive_, or rather\nwith the two volumes of it which were all that had at that time been\npublished. My theory of Induction was substantially completed before I\nknew of Comte's book; and it is perhaps well that I came to it by a\ndifferent road from his, since the consequence has been that my treatise\ncontains, what his certainly does not, a reduction of the inductive\nprocess to strict rules and to a scientific test, such as the syllogism\nis for ratiocination. Comte is always precise and profound on the method\nof investigation, but he does not even attempt any exact definition of\nthe conditions of proof: and his writings show that he never attained a\njust conception of them. This, however, was specifically the problem,\nwhich, in treating of Induction, I had proposed to myself. Nevertheless,\nI gained much from Comte, with which to enrich my chapters in the\nsubsequent rewriting: and his book was of essential service to me in\nsome of the parts which still remained to be thought out. As his\nsubsequent volumes successively made their appearance, I read them with\navidity, but, when he reached the subject of Social Science, with\nvarying feelings. The fourth volume disappointed me: it contained those\nof his opinions on social subjects with which I most disagree. But the\nfifth, containing the connected view of history, rekindled all my\nenthusiasm; which the sixth (or concluding) volume did not materially\nabate. In a merely logical point of view, the only leading conception\nfor which I am indebted to him is that of the Inverse Deductive Method,\nas the one chiefly applicable to the complicated subjects of History and\nStatistics: a process differing from the more common form of the\ndeductive method in this--that instead of arriving at its conclusions\nby general reasoning, and verifying them by specific experience (as is\nthe natural order in the deductive branches of physical science), it\nobtains its generalizations by a collation of specific experience, and\nverifies them by ascertaining whether they are such as would follow from\nknown general principles. This was an idea entirely new to me when I\nfound it in Comte: and but for him I might not soon (if ever) have\narrived at it.\n\nI had been long an ardent admirer of Comte's writings before I had any\ncommunication with himself; nor did I ever, to the last, see him in the\nbody. But for some years we were frequent correspondents, until our\ncorrespondence became controversial, and our zeal cooled. I was the\nfirst to slacken correspondence; he was the first to drop it. I found,\nand he probably found likewise, that I could do no good to his mind, and\nthat all the good he could do to mine, he did by his books. This would\nnever have led to discontinuance of intercourse, if the differences\nbetween us had been on matters of simple doctrine. But they were chiefly\non those points of opinion which blended in both of us with our\nstrongest feelings, and determined the entire direction of our\naspirations. I had fully agreed with him when he maintained that the\nmass of mankind, including even their rulers in all the practical\ndepartments of life, must, from the necessity of the case, accept most\nof their opinions on political and social matters, as they do on\nphysical, from the authority of those who have bestowed more study on\nthose subjects than they generally have it in their power to do. This\nlesson had been strongly impressed on me by the early work of Comte, to\nwhich I have adverted. And there was nothing in his great Treatise which\nI admired more than his remarkable exposition of the benefits which the\nnations of modern Europe have historically derived from the separation,\nduring the Middle Ages, of temporal and spiritual power, and the\ndistinct organization of the latter. I agreed with him that the moral\nand intellectual ascendancy, once exercised by priests, must in time\npass into the hands of philosophers, and will naturally do so when they\nbecome sufficiently unanimous, and in other respects worthy to possess\nit. But when he exaggerated this line of thought into a practical\nsystem, in which philosophers were to be organized into a kind of\ncorporate hierarchy, invested with almost the same spiritual supremacy\n(though without any secular power) once possessed by the Catholic\nChurch; when I found him relying on this spiritual authority as the only\nsecurity for good government, the sole bulwark against practical\noppression, and expecting that by it a system of despotism in the state\nand despotism in the family would be rendered innocuous and beneficial;\nit is not surprising, that while as logicians we were nearly at one, as\nsociologists we could travel together no further. M. Comte lived to\ncarry out these doctrines to their extremest consequences, by planning,\nin his last work, the _Syst\u00e8me de Politique Positive_, the completest\nsystem of spiritual and temporal despotism which ever yet emanated from\na human brain, unless possibly that of Ignatius Loyola: a system by\nwhich the yoke of general opinion, wielded by an organized body of\nspiritual teachers and rulers, would be made supreme over every action,\nand as far as is in human possibility, every thought, of every member of\nthe community, as well in the things which regard only himself, as in\nthose which concern the interests of others. It is but just to say that\nthis work is a considerable improvement, in many points of feeling, over\nComte's previous writings on the same subjects: but as an accession to\nsocial philosophy, the only value it seems to me to possess, consists in\nputting an end to the notion that no effectual moral authority can be\nmaintained over society without the aid of religious belief; for Comte's\nwork recognises no religion except that of Humanity, yet it leaves an\nirresistible conviction that any moral beliefs concurred in by the\ncommunity generally may be brought to bear upon the whole conduct and\nlives of its individual members, with an energy and potency truly\nalarming to think of. The book stands a monumental warning to thinkers\non society and politics, of what happens when once men lose sight, in\ntheir speculations, of the value of Liberty and of Individuality.\n\nTo return to myself. The _Review_ engrossed, for some time longer,\nnearly all the time I could devote to authorship, or to thinking with\nauthorship in view. The articles from the _London and Westminster\nReview_ which are reprinted in the _Dissertations_, are scarcely a\nfourth part of those I wrote. In the conduct of the _Review_ I had two\nprincipal objects. One was to free philosophic radicalism from the\nreproach of sectarian Benthamism. I desired, while retaining the\nprecision of expression, the definiteness of meaning, the contempt of\ndeclamatory phrases and vague generalities, which were so honourably\ncharacteristic both of Bentham and of my father, to give a wider basis\nand a more free and genial character to Radical speculations; to show\nthat there was a Radical philosophy, better and more complete than\nBentham's, while recognizing and incorporating all of Bentham's which is\npermanently valuable. In this first object I, to a certain extent,\nsucceeded. The other thing I attempted, was to stir up the educated\nRadicals, in and out of Parliament, to exertion, and induce them to make\nthemselves, what I thought by using the proper means they might become\n--a powerful party capable of taking the government of the country, or\nat least of dictating the terms on which they should share it with the\nWhigs. This attempt was from the first chimerical: partly because the\ntime was unpropitious, the Reform fervour being in its period of ebb,\nand the Tory influences powerfully rallying; but still more, because, as\nAustin so truly said, \"the country did not contain the men.\" Among the\nRadicals in Parliament there were several qualified to be useful members\nof an enlightened Radical party, but none capable of forming and leading\nsuch a party. The exhortations I addressed to them found no response.\nOne occasion did present itself when there seemed to be room for a bold\nand successful stroke for Radicalism. Lord Durham had left the ministry,\nby reason, as was thought, of their not being sufficiently Liberal; he\nafterwards accepted from them the task of ascertaining and removing the\ncauses of the Canadian rebellion; he had shown a disposition to surround\nhimself at the outset with Radical advisers; one of his earliest\nmeasures, a good measure both in intention and in effect, having been\ndisapproved and reversed by the Government at home, he had resigned his\npost, and placed himself openly in a position of quarrel with the\nMinisters. Here was a possible chief for a Radical party in the person\nof a man of importance, who was hated by the Tories and had just been\ninjured by the Whigs. Any one who had the most elementary notions of\nparty tactics, must have attempted to make something of such an\nopportunity. Lord Durham was bitterly attacked from all sides, inveighed\nagainst by enemies, given up by timid friends; while those who would\nwillingly have defended him did not know what to say. He appeared to be\nreturning a defeated and discredited man. I had followed the Canadian\nevents from the beginning; I had been one of the prompters of his\nprompters; his policy was almost exactly what mine would have been, and\nI was in a position to defend it. I wrote and published a manifesto in\nthe _Review_, in which I took the very highest ground in his behalf,\nclaiming for him not mere acquittal, but praise and honour. Instantly a\nnumber of other writers took up the tone: I believe there was a portion\nof truth in what Lord Durham, soon after, with polite exaggeration, said\nto me--that to this article might be ascribed the almost triumphal\nreception which he met with on his arrival in England. I believe it to\nhave been the word in season, which, at a critical moment, does much to\ndecide the result; the touch which determines whether a stone, set in\nmotion at the top of an eminence, shall roll down on one side or on the\nother. All hopes connected with Lord Durham as a politician soon\nvanished; but with regard to Canadian, and generally to colonial policy,\nthe cause was gained: Lord Durham's report, written by Charles Buller,\npartly under the inspiration of Wakefield, began a new era; its\nrecommendations, extending to complete internal self-government, were in\nfull operation in Canada within two or three years, and have been since\nextended to nearly all the other colonies, of European race, which have\nany claim to the character of important communities. And I may say that\nin successfully upholding the reputation of Lord Durham and his advisers\nat the most important moment, I contributed materially to this result.\n\nOne other case occurred during my conduct of the _Review_, which\nsimilarly illustrated the effect of taking a prompt initiative. I\nbelieve that the early success and reputation of Carlyle's _French\nRevolution_, were considerably accelerated by what I wrote about it in\nthe _Review_. Immediately on its publication, and before the commonplace\ncritics, all whose rules and modes of judgment it set at defiance, had\ntime to pre-occupy the public with their disapproval of it, I wrote and\npublished a review of the book, hailing it as one of those productions\nof genius which are above all rules, and are a law to themselves.\nNeither in this case nor in that of Lord Durham do I ascribe the\nimpression, which I think was produced by what I wrote, to any\nparticular merit of execution: indeed, in at least one of the cases (the\narticle on Carlyle) I do not think the execution was good. And in both\ninstances, I am persuaded that anybody, in a position to be read, who\nhad expressed the same opinion at the same precise time, and had made\nany tolerable statement of the just grounds for it, would have produced\nthe same effect. But, after the complete failure of my hopes of putting\na new life into Radical politics by means of the _Review_, I am glad to\nlook back on these two instances of success in an honest attempt to do\nmediate service to things and persons that deserved it. After the last\nhope of the formation of a Radical party had disappeared, it was time\nfor me to stop the heavy expenditure of time and money which the\n_Review_ cost me. It had to some extent answered my personal purpose as\na vehicle for my opinions. It had enabled me to express in print much of\nmy altered mode of thought, and to separate myself in a marked manner\nfrom the narrower Benthamism of my early writings. This was done by the\ngeneral tone of all I wrote, including various purely literary articles,\nbut especially by the two papers (reprinted in the _Dissertations_)\nwhich attempted a philosophical estimate of Bentham and of Coleridge. In\nthe first of these, while doing full justice to the merits of Bentham, I\npointed out what I thought the errors and deficiencies of his\nphilosophy. The substance of this criticism _I_ still think perfectly\njust; but I have sometimes doubted whether it was right to publish it at\nthat time. I have often felt that Bentham's philosophy, as an instrument\nof progress, has been to some extent discredited before it had done its\nwork, and that to lend a hand towards lowering its reputation was doing\nmore harm than service to improvement. Now, however, when a\ncounter-reaction appears to be setting in towards what is good in\nBenthamism, I can look with more satisfaction on this criticism of its\ndefects, especially as I have myself balanced it by vindications of the\nfundamental principles of Bentham's philosophy, which are reprinted\nalong with it in the same collection. In the essay on Coleridge I\nattempted to characterize the European reaction against the negative\nphilosophy of the eighteenth century: and here, if the effect only of\nthis one paper were to be considered, I might be thought to have erred\nby giving undue prominence to the favourable side, as I had done in the\ncase of Bentham to the unfavourable. In both cases, the impetus with\nwhich I had detached myself from what was untenable in the doctrines of\nBentham and of the eighteenth century, may have carried me, though in\nappearance rather than in reality, too far on the contrary side. But as\nfar as relates to the article on Coleridge, my defence is, that I was\nwriting for Radicals and Liberals, and it was my business to dwell most\non that, in writers of a different school, from the knowledge of which\nthey might derive most improvement.\n\nThe number of the _Review_ which contained the paper on Coleridge, was\nthe last which was published during my proprietorship. In the spring of\n1840 I made over the _Review_ to Mr. Hickson, who had been a frequent\nand very useful unpaid contributor under my management: only stipulating\nthat the change should be marked by a resumption of the old name, that\nof _Westminster Review_. Under that name Mr. Hickson conducted it for\nten years, on the plan of dividing among contributors only the net\nproceeds of the _Review_ giving his own labour as writer and editor\ngratuitously. Under the difficulty in obtaining writers, which arose\nfrom this low scale of payment, it is highly creditable to him that he\nwas able to maintain, in some tolerable degree, the character of the\n_Review_ as an organ of radicalism and progress. I did not cease\naltogether to write for the _Review_, but continued to send it\noccasional contributions, not, however, exclusively; for the greater\ncirculation of the _Edinburgh Review_ induced me from this time to offer\narticles to it also when I had anything to say for which it appeared to\nbe a suitable vehicle. And the concluding volumes of _Democracy in\nAmerica_, having just then come out, I inaugurated myself as a\ncontributor to the _Edinburgh_, by the article on that work, which heads\nthe second volume of the _Dissertations_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nGENERAL VIEW OF THE REMAINDER OF MY LIFE.\n\n\nFrom this time, what is worth relating of my life will come into a very\nsmall compass; for I have no further mental changes to tell of, but\nonly, as I hope, a continued mental progress; which does not admit of a\nconsecutive history, and the results of which, if real, will be best\nfound in my writings. I shall, therefore, greatly abridge the chronicle\nof my subsequent years.\n\nThe first use I made of the leisure which I gained by disconnecting\nmyself from the _Review_, was to finish the _Logic_. In July and August,\n1838, I had found an interval in which to execute what was still undone\nof the original draft of the Third Book. In working out the logical\ntheory of those laws of nature which are not laws of Causation, nor\ncorollaries from such laws, I was led to recognize kinds as realities in\nnature, and not mere distinctions for convenience; a light which I had\nnot obtained when the First Book was written, and which made it\nnecessary for me to modify and enlarge several chapters of that Book.\nThe Book on Language and Classification, and the chapter on the\nClassification of Fallacies, were drafted in the autumn of the same\nyear; the remainder of the work, in the summer and autumn of 1840. From\nApril following to the end of 1841, my spare time was devoted to a\ncomplete rewriting of the book from its commencement. It is in this way\nthat all my books have been composed. They were always written at least\ntwice over; a first draft of the entire work was completed to the very\nend of the subject, then the whole begun again _de novo_; but\nincorporating, in the second writing, all sentences and parts of\nsentences of the old draft, which appeared as suitable to my purpose as\nanything which I could write in lieu of them. I have found great\nadvantages in this system of double redaction. It combines, better than\nany other mode of composition, the freshness and vigour of the first\nconception, with the superior precision and completeness resulting from\nprolonged thought. In my own case, moreover, I have found that the\npatience necessary for a careful elaboration of the details of\ncomposition and expression, costs much less effort after the entire\nsubject has been once gone through, and the substance of all that I find\nto say has in some manner, however imperfect, been got upon paper. The\nonly thing which I am careful, in the first draft, to make as perfect as\nI am able, is the arrangement. If that is bad, the whole thread on which\nthe ideas string themselves becomes twisted; thoughts placed in a wrong\nconnection are not expounded in a manner that suits the right, and a\nfirst draft with this original vice is next to useless as a foundation\nfor the final treatment.\n\nDuring the re-writing of the _Logic_, Dr. Whewell's _Philosophy of the\nInductive Sciences_ made its appearance; a circumstance fortunate for\nme, as it gave me what I greatly desired, a full treatment of the\nsubject by an antagonist, and enabled me to present my ideas with\ngreater clearness and emphasis as well as fuller and more varied\ndevelopment, in defending them against definite objections, or\nconfronting them distinctly with an opposite theory. The controversies\nwith Dr. Whewell, as well as much matter derived from Comte, were first\nintroduced into the book in the course of the re-writing.\n\nAt the end of 1841, the book being ready for the press, I offered it to\nMurray, who kept it until too late for publication that season, and then\nrefused it, for reasons which could just as well have been given at\nfirst. But I have had no cause to regret a rejection which led to my\noffering it to Mr. Parker, by whom it was published in the spring of\n1843. My original expectations of success were extremely limited.\nArchbishop Whately had, indeed, rehabilitated the name of Logic, and the\nstudy of the forms, rules, and fallacies of Ratiocination; and Dr.\nWhewell's writings had begun to excite an interest in the other part of\nmy subject, the theory of Induction. A treatise, however, on a matter so\nabstract, could not be expected to be popular; it could only be a book\nfor students, and students on such subjects were not only (at least in\nEngland) few, but addicted chiefly to the opposite school of\nmetaphysics, the ontological and \"innate principles\" school. I therefore\ndid not expect that the book would have many readers, or approvers; and\nlooked for little practical effect from it, save that of keeping the\ntradition unbroken of what I thought a better philosophy. What hopes I\nhad of exciting any immediate attention, were mainly grounded on the\npolemical propensities of Dr Whewell; who, I thought, from observation\nof his conduct in other cases, would probably do something to bring the\nbook into notice, by replying, and that promptly, to the attack on his\nopinions. He did reply but not till 1850, just in time for me to answer\nhim in the third edition. How the book came to have, for a work of the\nkind, so much success, and what sort of persons compose the bulk of\nthose who have bought, I will not venture to say read, it, I have never\nthoroughly understood. But taken in conjunction with the many proofs\nwhich have since been given of a revival of speculation, speculation too\nof a free kind, in many quarters, and above all (where at one time I\nshould have least expected it) in the Universities, the fact becomes\npartially intelligible. I have never indulged the illusion that the book\nhad made any considerable impression on philosophical opinion. The\nGerman, or _a priori_ view of human knowledge, and of the knowing\nfaculties, is likely for some time longer (though it may be hoped in a\ndiminishing degree) to predominate among those who occupy themselves\nwith such inquiries, both here and on the Continent. But the \"System of\nLogic\" supplies what was much wanted, a text-book of the opposite\ndoctrine--that which derives all knowledge from experience, and all\nmoral and intellectual qualities principally from the direction given to\nthe associations. I make as humble an estimate as anybody of what either\nan analysis of logical processes, or any possible canons of evidence,\ncan do by themselves towards guiding or rectifying the operations of the\nunderstanding. Combined with other requisites, I certainly do think them\nof great use; but whatever may be the practical value of a true\nphilosophy of these matters, it is hardly possible to exaggerate the\nmischiefs of a false one. The notion that truths external to the mind\nmay be known by intuition or consciousness, independently of observation\nand experience, is, I am persuaded, in these times, the great\nintellectual support of false doctrines and bad institutions. By the aid\nof this theory, every inveterate belief and every intense feeling, of\nwhich the origin is not remembered, is enabled to dispense with the\nobligation of justifying itself by reason, and is erected into its own\nall-sufficient voucher and justification. There never was such an\ninstrument devised for consecrating all deep-seated prejudices. And the\nchief strength of this false philosophy in morals, politics, and\nreligion, lies in the appeal which it is accustomed to make to the\nevidence of mathematics and of the cognate branches of physical science.\nTo expel it from these, is to drive it from its stronghold: and because\nthis had never been effectually done, the intuitive school, even after\nwhat my father had written in his _Analysis of the Mind_, had in\nappearance, and as far as published writings were concerned, on the\nwhole the best of the argument. In attempting to clear up the real\nnature of the evidence of mathematical and physical truths, the _System\nof Logic_ met the intuitive philosophers on ground on which they had\npreviously been deemed unassailable; and gave its own explanation, from\nexperience and association, of that peculiar character of what are\ncalled necessary truths, which is adduced as proof that their evidence\nmust come from a deeper source than experience. Whether this has been\ndone effectually, is still _sub judice_; and even then, to deprive a\nmode of thought so strongly rooted in human prejudices and partialities,\nof its mere speculative support, goes but a very little way towards\novercoming it; but though only a step, it is a quite indispensable one;\nfor since, after all, prejudice can only be successfully combated by\nphilosophy, no way can really be made against it permanently until it\nhas been shown not to have philosophy on its side.\n\nBeing now released from any active concern in temporary politics, and\nfrom any literary occupation involving personal communication with\ncontributors and others, I was enabled to indulge the inclination,\nnatural to thinking persons when the age of boyish vanity is once past,\nfor limiting my own society to a very few persons. General society, as\nnow carried on in England, is so insipid an affair, even to the persons\nwho make it what it is, that it is kept up for any reason rather than\nthe pleasure it affords. All serious discussion on matters on which\nopinions differ, being considered ill-bred, and the national deficiency\nin liveliness and sociability having prevented the cultivation of the\nart of talking agreeably on trifles, in which the French of the last\ncentury so much excelled, the sole attraction of what is called society\nto those who are not at the top of the tree, is the hope of being aided\nto climb a little higher in it; while to those who are already at the\ntop, it is chiefly a compliance with custom, and with the supposed\nrequirements of their station. To a person of any but a very common\norder in thought or feeling, such society, unless he has personal\nobjects to serve by it, must be supremely unattractive: and most people,\nin the present day, of any really high class of intellect, make their\ncontact with it so slight, and at such long intervals, as to be almost\nconsidered as retiring from it altogether. Those persons of any mental\nsuperiority who do otherwise, are, almost without exception, greatly\ndeteriorated by it. Not to mention loss of time, the tone of their\nfeelings is lowered: they become less in earnest about those of their\nopinions respecting which they must remain silent in the society they\nfrequent: they come to look upon their most elevated objects as\nunpractical, or, at least, too remote from realization to be more than a\nvision, or a theory, and if, more fortunate than most, they retain their\nhigher principles unimpaired, yet with respect to the persons and\naffairs of their own day they insensibly adopt the modes of feeling and\njudgment in which they can hope for sympathy from the company they keep.\nA person of high intellect should never go into unintellectual society\nunless he can enter it as an apostle; yet he is the only person with\nhigh objects who can safely enter it at all. Persons even of\nintellectual aspirations had much better, if they can, make their\nhabitual associates of at least their equals, and, as far as possible,\ntheir superiors, in knowledge, intellect, and elevation of sentiment.\nMoreover, if the character is formed, and the mind made up, on the few\ncardinal points of human opinion, agreement of conviction and feeling on\nthese, has been felt in all times to be an essential requisite of\nanything worthy the name of friendship, in a really earnest mind. All\nthese circumstances united, made the number very small of those whose\nsociety, and still more whose intimacy, I now voluntarily sought.\n\nAmong these, by far the principal was the incomparable friend of whom I\nhave already spoken. At this period she lived mostly with one young\ndaughter, in a quiet part of the country, and only occasionally in town,\nwith her first husband, Mr. Taylor. I visited her equally in both\nplaces; and was greatly indebted to the strength of character which\nenabled her to disregard the false interpretations liable to be put on\nthe frequency of my visits to her while living generally apart from Mr.\nTaylor, and on our occasionally travelling together, though in all other\nrespects our conduct during those years gave not the slightest ground\nfor any other supposition than the true one, that our relation to each\nother at that time was one of strong affection and confidential intimacy\nonly. For though we did not consider the ordinances of society binding\non a subject so entirely personal, we did feel bound that our conduct\nshould be such as in no degree to bring discredit on her husband, nor\ntherefore on herself.\n\nIn this third period (as it may be termed) of my mental progress, which\nnow went hand in hand with hers, my opinions gained equally in breadth\nand depth, I understood more things, and those which I had understood\nbefore I now understood more thoroughly. I had now completely turned\nback from what there had been of excess in my reaction against\nBenthamism. I had, at the height of that reaction, certainly become much\nmore indulgent to the common opinions of society and the world, and more\nwilling to be content with seconding the superficial improvement which\nhad begun to take place in those common opinions, than became one whose\nconvictions on so many points, differed fundamentally from them. I was\nmuch more inclined, than I can now approve, to put in abeyance the more\ndecidedly heretical part of my opinions, which I now look upon as almost\nthe only ones, the assertion of which tends in any way to regenerate\nsociety. But in addition to this, our opinions were far _more_ heretical\nthan mine had been in the days of my most extreme Benthamism. In those\ndays I had seen little further than the old school of political\neconomists into the possibilities of fundamental improvement in social\narrangements. Private property, as now understood, and inheritance,\nappeared to me, as to them, the _dernier mot_ of legislation: and I\nlooked no further than to mitigating the inequalities consequent on\nthese institutions, by getting rid of primogeniture and entails. The\nnotion that it was possible to go further than this in removing the\ninjustice--for injustice it is, whether admitting of a complete remedy\nor not--involved in the fact that some are born to riches and the vast\nmajority to poverty, I then reckoned chimerical, and only hoped that by\nuniversal education, leading to voluntary restraint on population, the\nportion of the poor might be made more tolerable. In short, I was a\ndemocrat, but not the least of a Socialist. We were now much less\ndemocrats than I had been, because so long as education continues to be\nso wretchedly imperfect, we dreaded the ignorance and especially the\nselfishness and brutality of the mass: but our ideal of ultimate\nimprovement went far beyond Democracy, and would class us decidedly\nunder the general designation of Socialists. While we repudiated with\nthe greatest energy that tyranny of society over the individual which\nmost Socialistic systems are supposed to involve, we yet looked forward\nto a time when society will no longer be divided into the idle and the\nindustrious; when the rule that they who do not work shall not eat, will\nbe applied not to paupers only, but impartially to all; when the\ndivision of the produce of labour, instead of depending, as in so great\na degree it now does, on the accident of birth, will be made by concert\non an acknowledged principle of justice; and when it will no longer\neither be, or be thought to be, impossible for human beings to exert\nthemselves strenuously in procuring benefits which are not to be\nexclusively their own, but to be shared with the society they belong to.\nThe social problem of the future we considered to be, how to unite the\ngreatest individual liberty of action, with a common ownership in the\nraw material of the globe, and an equal participation of all in the\nbenefits of combined labour. We had not the presumption to suppose that\nwe could already foresee, by what precise form of institutions these\nobjects could most effectually be attained, or at how near or how\ndistant a period they would become practicable. We saw clearly that to\nrender any such social transformation either possible or desirable, an\nequivalent change of character must take place both in the uncultivated\nherd who now compose the labouring masses, and in the immense majority\nof their employers. Both these classes must learn by practice to labour\nand combine for generous, or at all events for public and social\npurposes, and not, as hitherto, solely for narrowly interested ones. But\nthe capacity to do this has always existed in mankind, and is not, nor\nis ever likely to be, extinct. Education, habit, and the cultivation of\nthe sentiments, will make a common man dig or weave for his country, as\nreadily as fight for his country. True enough, it is only by slow\ndegrees, and a system of culture prolonged through successive\ngenerations, that men in general can be brought up to this point. But\nthe hindrance is not in the essential constitution of human nature.\nInterest in the common good is at present so weak a motive in the\ngenerality not because it can never be otherwise, but because the mind\nis not accustomed to dwell on it as it dwells from morning till night on\nthings which tend only to personal advantage. When called into activity,\nas only self-interest now is, by the daily course of life, and spurred\nfrom behind by the love of distinction and the fear of shame, it is\ncapable of producing, even in common men, the most strenuous exertions\nas well as the most heroic sacrifices. The deep-rooted selfishness which\nforms the general character of the existing state of society, is _so_\ndeeply rooted, only because the whole course of existing institutions\ntends to foster it; and modern institutions in some respects more than\nancient, since the occasions on which the individual is called on to do\nanything for the public without receiving its pay, are far less frequent\nin modern life, than the smaller commonwealths of antiquity. These\nconsiderations did not make us overlook the folly of premature attempts\nto dispense with the inducements of private interest in social affairs,\nwhile no substitute for them has been or can be provided: but we\nregarded all existing institutions and social arrangements as being (in\na phrase I once heard from Austin) \"merely provisional,\" and we welcomed\nwith the greatest pleasure and interest all socialistic experiments by\nselect individuals (such as the Co-operative Societies), which, whether\nthey succeeded or failed, could not but operate as a most useful\neducation of those who took part in them, by cultivating their capacity\nof acting upon motives pointing directly to the general good, or making\nthem aware of the defects which render them and others incapable of\ndoing so.\n\nIn the _Principles of Political Economy_, these opinions were\npromulgated, less clearly and fully in the first edition, rather more so\nin the second, and quite unequivocally in the third. The difference\narose partly from the change of times, the first edition having been\nwritten and sent to press before the French Revolution of 1848, after\nwhich the public mind became more open to the reception of novelties in\nopinion, and doctrines appeared moderate which would have been thought\nvery startling a short time before. In the first edition the\ndifficulties of Socialism were stated so strongly, that the tone was on\nthe whole that of opposition to it. In the year or two which followed,\nmuch time was given to the study of the best Socialistic writers on the\nContinent, and to meditation and discussion on the whole range of topics\ninvolved in the controversy: and the result was that most of what had\nbeen written on the subject in the first edition was cancelled, and\nreplaced by arguments and reflections which represent a more advanced\nopinion.\n\nThe _Political Economy_ was far more rapidly executed than the _Logic_,\nor indeed than anything of importance which I had previously written. It\nwas commenced in the autumn of 1845, and was ready for the press before\nthe end of 1847. In this period of little more than two years there was\nan interval of six months during which the work was laid aside, while I\nwas writing articles in the _Morning Chronicle_ (which unexpectedly\nentered warmly into my purpose) urging the formation of peasant\nproperties on the waste lands of Ireland. This was during the period of\nthe Famine, the winter of 1846-47, when the stern necessities of the\ntime seemed to afford a chance of gaining attention for what appeared to\nme the only mode of combining relief to immediate destitution with\npermanent improvement of the social and economical condition of the\nIrish people. But the idea was new and strange; there was no English\nprecedent for such a proceeding: and the profound ignorance of English\npoliticians and the English public concerning all social phenomena not\ngenerally met with in England (however common elsewhere), made my\nendeavours an entire failure. Instead of a great operation on the waste\nlands, and the conversion of cottiers into proprietors, Parliament\npassed a Poor Law for maintaining them as paupers: and if the nation has\nnot since found itself in inextricable difficulties from the joint\noperation of the old evils and the quack remedy it is indebted for its\ndeliverance to that most unexpected and surprising fact, the\ndepopulation of ireland, commenced by famine, and continued by\nemigration.\n\nThe rapid success of the _Political Economy_ showed that the public\nwanted, and were prepared for such a book. Published early in 1848, an\nedition of a thousand copies was sold in less than a year. Another\nsimilar edition was published in the spring of 1849; and a third, of\n1250 copies, early in 1852. It was, from the first, continually cited\nand referred to as an authority, because it was not a book merely of\nabstract science, but also of application, and treated Political Economy\nnot as a thing by itself, but as a fragment of a greater whole; a branch\nof Social Philosophy, so interlinked with all the other branches, that\nits conclusions, even in its own peculiar province, are only true\nconditionally, subject to interference and counteraction from causes not\ndirectly within its scope: while to the character of a practical guide\nit has no pretension, apart from other classes of considerations.\nPolitical Economy, in truth, has never pretended to give advice to\nmankind with no lights but its own; though people who knew nothing but\npolitical economy (and therefore knew that ill) have taken upon\nthemselves to advise, and could only do so by such lights as they had.\nBut the numerous sentimental enemies of political economy, and its still\nmore numerous interested enemies in sentimental guise, have been very\nsuccessful in gaining belief for this among other unmerited imputations\nagainst it, and the _Principles_ having, in spite of the freedom of many\nof its opinions, become for the present the most popular treatise on the\nsubject, has helped to disarm the enemies of so important a study. The\namount of its worth as an exposition of the science, and the value of\nthe different applications which it suggests, others of course must\njudge.\n\nFor a considerable time after this, I published no work of magnitude;\nthough I still occasionally wrote in periodicals, and my correspondence\n(much of it with persons quite unknown to me), on subjects of public\ninterest, swelled to a considerable bulk. During these years I wrote or\ncommenced various Essays, for eventual publication, on some of the\nfundamental questions of human and social life, with regard to several\nof which I have already much exceeded the severity of the Horatian\nprecept. I continued to watch with keen interest the progress of public\nevents. But it was not, on the whole, very encouraging to me. The\nEuropean reaction after 1848, and the success of an unprincipled usurper\nin December, 1851, put an end, as it seemed, to all present hope for\nfreedom or social improvement in France and the Continent. In England, I\nhad seen and continued to see many of the opinions of my youth obtain\ngeneral recognition, and many of the reforms in institutions, for which\nI had through life contended, either effected or in course of being so.\nBut these changes had been attended with much less benefit to human\nwell-being than I should formerly have anticipated, because they had\nproduced very little improvement in that which all real amelioration in\nthe lot of mankind depends on, their intellectual and moral state: and\nit might even be questioned if the various causes of deterioration which\nhad been at work in the meanwhile, had not more than counterbalanced the\ntendencies to improvement. I had learnt from experience that many false\nopinions may be exchanged for true ones, without in the least altering\nthe habits of mind of which false opinions are the result. The English\npublic, for example, are quite as raw and undiscerning on subjects of\npolitical economy since the nation has been converted to free-trade, as\nthey were before; and are still further from having acquired better\nhabits of thought and feeling, or being in any way better fortified\nagainst error, on subjects of a more elevated character. For, though\nthey have thrown off certain errors, the general discipline of their\nminds, intellectually and morally, is not altered. I am now convinced,\nthat no great improvements in the lot of mankind are possible, until a\ngreat change takes place in the fundamental constitution of their modes\nof thought. The old opinions in religion, morals, and politics, are so\nmuch discredited in the more intellectual minds as to have lost the\ngreater part of their efficacy for good, while they have still life\nenough in them to be a powerful obstacle to the growing up of any better\nopinions on those subjects. When the philosophic minds of the world can\nno longer believe its religion, or can only believe it with\nmodifications amounting to an essential change of its character, a\ntransitional period commences, of weak convictions, paralysed\nintellects, and growing laxity of principle, which cannot terminate\nuntil a renovation has been effected in the basis of their belief\nleading to the evolution of some faith, whether religious or\nmerely human, which they can really believe: and when things are in this\nstate, all thinking or writing which does not tend to promote such a\nrenovation, is of very little value beyond the moment. Since there was\nlittle in the apparent condition of the public mind, indicative of any\ntendency in this direction, my view of the immediate prospects of human\nimprovement was not sanguine. More recently a spirit of free speculation\nhas sprung up, giving a more encouraging prospect of the gradual mental\nemancipation of England; and concurring with the renewal under better\nauspices, of the movement for political freedom in the rest of Europe,\nhas given to the present condition of human affairs a more hopeful\naspect.[3]\n\nBetween the time of which I have now spoken, and the present, took place\nthe most important events of my private life. The first of these was my\nmarriage, in April, 1851, to the lady whose incomparable worth had made\nher friendship the greatest source to me both of happiness and of\nimprovement, during many years in which we never expected to be in any\ncloser relation to one another. Ardently as I should have aspired to\nthis complete union of our lives at any time in the course of my\nexistence at which it had been practicable, I, as much as my wife, would\nfar rather have foregone that privilege for ever, than have owed it to\nthe premature death of one for whom I had the sincerest respect, and she\nthe strongest affection. That event, however, having taken place in\nJuly, 1849, it was granted to me to derive from that evil my own\ngreatest good, by adding to the partnership of thought, feeling, and\nwriting which had long existed, a partnership of our entire existence.\nFor seven and a-half years that blessing was mine; for seven and a-half\nonly! I can say nothing which could describe, even in the faintest\nmanner, what that loss was and is. But because I know that she would\nhave wished it, I endeavour to make the best of what life I have left,\nand to work on for her purposes with such diminished strength as can be\nderived from thoughts of her, and communion with her memory.\n\nWhen two persons have their thoughts and speculations completely in\ncommon; when all subjects of intellectual or moral interest are\ndiscussed between them in daily life, and probed to much greater depths\nthan are usually or conveniently sounded in writings intended for\ngeneral readers; when they set out from the same principles, and arrive\nat their conclusions by processes pursued jointly, it is of little\nconsequence in respect to the question of originality, which of them\nholds the pen; the one who contributes least to the composition may\ncontribute more to the thought; the writings which result are the joint\nproduct of both, and it must often be impossible to disentangle their\nrespective parts, and affirm that this belongs to one and that to the\nother. In this wide sense, not only during the years of our married\nlife, but during many of the years of confidential friendship which\npreceded, all my published writings were as much her work as mine; her\nshare in them constantly increasing as years advanced. But in certain\ncases, what belongs to her can be distinguished, and specially\nidentified. Over and above the general influence which her mind had over\nmine, the most valuable ideas and features in these joint\nproductions--those which have been most fruitful of important results,\nand have contributed most to the success and reputation of the works\nthemselves--originated with her, were emanations from her mind, my part\nin them being no greater than in any of the thoughts which I found in\nprevious writers, and made my own only by incorporating them with my own\nsystem of thought! During the greater part of my literary life I have\nperformed the office in relation to her, which from a rather early\nperiod I had considered as the most useful part that I was qualified to\ntake in the domain of thought, that of an interpreter of original\nthinkers, and mediator between them and the public; for I had always a\nhumble opinion of my own powers as an original thinker, except in\nabstract science (logic, metaphysics, and the theoretic principles of\npolitical economy and politics), but thought myself much superior to\nmost of my contemporaries in willingness and ability to learn from\neverybody; as I found hardly anyone who made such a point of examining\nwhat was said in defence of all opinions, however new or however old, in\nthe conviction that even if they were errors there might be a substratum\nof truth underneath them, and that in any case the discovery of what it\nwas that made them plausible, would be a benefit to truth. I had, in\nconsequence, marked this out as a sphere of usefulness in which I was\nunder a special obligation to make myself active; the more so, as the\nacquaintance I had formed with the ideas of the Coleridgians, of the\nGerman thinkers, and of Carlyle, all of them fiercely opposed to the\nmode of thought in which I had been brought up, had convinced me that\nalong with much error they possessed much truth, which was veiled from\nminds otherwise capable of receiving it by the transcendental and\nmystical phraseology in which they were accustomed to shut it up, and\nfrom which they neither cared, nor knew how, to disengage it; and I did\nnot despair of separating the truth from the error, and exposing it in\nterms which would be intelligible and not repulsive to those on my own\nside in philosophy. Thus prepared, it will easily be believed that when\nI came into close intellectual communion with a person of the most\neminent faculties, whose genius, as it grew and unfolded itself in\nthought, continually struck out truths far in advance of me, but in\nwhich I could not, as I had done in those others, detect any mixture of\nerror, the greatest part of my mental growth consisted in the\nassimilation of those truths, and the most valuable part of my\nintellectual work was in building the bridges and clearing the paths\nwhich connected them with my general system of thought.[4]\n\nThe first of my books in which her share was conspicious was the\n_Principles of Political Economy_. The _System of Logic_ owed little to\nher except in the minuter matters of composition, in which respect my\nwritings, both great and small, have largely benefited by her accurate\nand clear-sighted criticism.[5] The chapter of the _Political Economy_\nwhich has had a greater influence on opinion than all the rest, that on\n'the Probable Future of the Labouring Classes,' is entirely due to her;\nin the first draft of the book, that chapter did not exist. She pointed\nout the need of such a chapter, and the extreme imperfection of the book\nwithout it; she was the cause of my writing it; and the more general\npart of the chapter, the statement and discussion of the two opposite\ntheories respecting the proper condition of the labouring classes, was\nwholly an exposition of her thoughts, often in words taken from her own\nlips. The purely scientific part of the _Political Economy_ I did not\nlearn from her; but it was chiefly her influence that gave to the book\nthat general tone by which it is distinguished from all previous\nexpositions of Political Economy that had any pretension to being\nscientific, and which has made it so useful in conciliating minds which\nthose previous expositions had repelled. This tone consisted chiefly in\nmaking the proper distinction between the laws of the Production of\nWealth--which are laws of nature, dependent on the properties of\nobjects--and the modes of its Distribution, which, subject to certain\nconditions, depend on human will. The commom run of political economists\nconfuse these together, under the designation of economic laws, which\nthey deem incapable of being defeated or modified by human effort;\nascribing the same necessity to things dependent on the unchangeable\nconditions of our earthly existence, and to those which, being but the\nnecessary consequences of particular social arrangements, are merely\nco-extensive with these; given certain institutions and customs, wages,\nprofits, and rent will be determined by certain causes; but this class\nof political economists drop the indispensable presupposition, and argue\nthat these causes must, by an inherent necessity, against which no human\nmeans can avail, determine the shares which fall, in the division of the\nproduce, to labourers, capitalists, and landlords. The _Principles of\nPolitical Economy_ yielded to none of its predecessors in aiming at the\nscientific appreciation of the action of these causes, under the\nconditions which they presuppose; but it set the example of not treating\nthose conditions as final. The economic generalizations which depend not\non necessaties of nature but on those combined with the existing\narrangements of society, it deals with only as provisional, and as\nliable to be much altered by the progress of social improvement. I had\nindeed partially learnt this view of things from the thoughts awakened\nin me by the speculations of the St. Simonians; but it was made a living\nprinciple pervading and animating the book by my wife's promptings. This\nexample illustrates well the general character of what she contributed\nto my writings. What was abstract and purely scientific was generally\nmine; the properly human element came from her: in all that concerned\nthe application of philosophy to the exigencies of human society and\nprogress, I was her pupil, alike in boldness of speculation and\ncautiousness of practical judgment. For, on the one hand, she was much\nmore courageous and far-sighted than without her I should have been, in\nanticipation of an order of things to come, in which many of the limited\ngeneralizations now so often confounded with universal principles will\ncease to be applicable. Those parts of my writings, and especially of\nthe _Political Economy_, which contemplate possibilities in the future\nsuch as, when affirmed by Socialists, have in general been fiercely\ndenied by political economists, would, but for her, either have been\nabsent, or the suggestions would have been made much more timidly and in\na more qualified form. But while she thus rendered me bolder in\nspeculation on human affairs, her practical turn of mind, and her almost\nunerring estimate of practical obstacles, repressed in me all tendencies\nthat were really visionary. Her mind invested all ideas in a concrete\nshape, and formed to itself a conception of how they would actually\nwork: and her knowledge of the existing feelings and conduct of mankind\nwas so seldom at fault, that the weak point in any unworkable suggestion\nseldom escapes her.[6]\n\nDuring the two years which immediately preceded the cessation of my\nofficial life, my wife and I were working together at the \"Liberty.\"\nI had first planned and written it as a short essay in 1854. It was in\nmounting the steps of the Capitol, in January, 1855, that the thought\nfirst arose of converting it into a volume. None of my writings have\nbeen either so carefully composed, or so sedulously corrected as this.\nAfter it had been written as usual twice over, we kept it by us,\nbringing it out from time to time, and going through it _de novo_,\nreading, weighing, and criticizing every sentence. Its final revision\nwas to have been a work of the winter of 1858-9, the first after my\nretirement, which we had arranged to pass in the south of Europe. That\nhope and every other were frustrated by the most unexpected and bitter\ncalamity of her death--at Avignon, on our way to Montpellier, from a\nsudden attack of pulmonary congestion.\n\nSince then I have sought for such allevation as my state\nadmitted of, by the mode of life which most enabled me to feel her still\nnear me. I bought a cottage as close as possible to the place where she\nis buried, and there her daughter (my fellow-sufferer and now my chief\ncomfort) and I, live constantly during a great portion of the year. My\nobjects in life are solely those which were hers; my pursuits and\noccupations those in which she shared, or sympathized, and which are\nindissolubly associated with her. Her memory is to me a religion, and\nher approbation the standard by which, summing up as it does all\nworthiness, I endeavour to regulate my life.\n\nAfter my irreparable loss, one of my earliest cares was to print and\npublish the treatise, so much of which was the work of her whom I had\nlost, and consecrate it to her memory. I have made no alteration or\naddition to it, nor shall I ever. Though it wants the last touch of her\nhand, no substitute for that touch shall ever be attempted by mine.\n\nThe _Liberty_ was more directly and literally our joint production than\nanything else which bears my name, for there was not a sentence of it\nthat was not several times gone through by us together, turned over in\nmany ways, and carefully weeded of any faults, either in thought or\nexpression, that we detected in it. It is in consequence of this that,\nalthough it never underwent her final revision, it far surpasses, as a\nmere specimen of composition, anything which has proceeded from me\neither before or since. With regard to the thoughts, it is difficult to\nidentify any particular part or element as being more hers than all the\nrest. The whole mode of thinking of which the book was the expression,\nwas emphatically hers. But I also was so thoroughly imbued with it, that\nthe same thoughts naturally occurred to us both. That I was thus\npenetrated with it, however, I owe in a great degree to her. There was a\nmoment in my mental progress when I might easily have fallen into a\ntendency towards over-government, both social and political; as there\nwas also a moment when, by reaction from a contrary excess, I might have\nbecome a less thorough radical and democrat than I am. In both these\npoints, as in many others, she benefited me as much by keeping me right\nwhere I was right, as by leading me to new truths, and ridding me of\nerrors. My great readiness and eagerness to learn from everybody, and to\nmake room in my opinions for every new acquisition by adjusting the old\nand the new to one another, might, but for her steadying influence, have\nseduced me into modifying my early opinions too much. She was in nothing\nmore valuable to my mental development than by her just measure of the\nrelative importance of different considerations, which often protected\nme from allowing to truths I had only recently learnt to see, a more\nimportant place in my thoughts than was properly their due.\n\nThe _Liberty_ is likely to survive longer than anything else that I have\nwritten (with the possible exception of the _Logic_), because the\nconjunction of her mind with mine has rendered it a kind of philosophic\ntext-book of a single truth, which the changes progressively taking\nplace in modern society tend to bring out into ever stronger relief: the\nimportance, to man and society of a large variety in types of character,\nand of giving full freedom to human nature to expand itself in\ninnumerable and conflicting directions. Nothing can better show how deep\nare the foundations of this truth, than the great impression made by the\nexposition of it at a time which, to superficial observation, did not\nseem to stand much in need of such a lesson. The fears we expressed,\nlest the inevitable growth of social equality and of the government of\npublic opinion, should impose on mankind an oppressive yoke of\nuniformity in opinion and practice, might easily have appeared\nchimerical to those who looked more at present facts than at tendencies;\nfor the gradual revolution that is taking place in society and\ninstitutions has, thus far, been decidedly favourable to the development\nof new opinions, and has procured for them a much more unprejudiced\nhearing than they previously met with. But this is a feature belonging\nto periods of transition, when old notions and feelings have been\nunsettled, and no new doctrines have yet succeeded to their ascendancy.\nAt such times people of any mental activity, having given up their old\nbeliefs, and not feeling quite sure that those they still retain can\nstand unmodified, listen eagerly to new opinions. But this state of\nthings is necessarily transitory: some particular body of doctrine in\ntime rallies the majority round it, organizes social institutions and\nmodes of action conformably to itself, education impresses this new\ncreed upon the new generations without the mental processes that have\nled to it, and by degrees it acquires the very same power of\ncompression, so long exercised by the creeds of which it had taken the\nplace. Whether this noxious power will be exercised, depends on whether\nmankind have by that time become aware that it cannot be exercised\nwithout stunting and dwarfing human nature. It is then that the\nteachings of the _Liberty_ will have their greatest value. And it is to\nbe feared that they will retain that value a long time.\n\nAs regards originality, it has of course no other than that which every\nthoughtful mind gives to its own mode of conceiving and expressing\ntruths which are common property. The leading thought of the book is one\nwhich though in many ages confined to insulated thinkers, mankind have\nprobably at no time since the beginning of civilization been entirely\nwithout. To speak only of the last few generations, it is distinctly\ncontained in the vein of important thought respecting education and\nculture, spread through the European mind by the labours and genius of\nPestalozzi. The unqualified championship of it by Wilhelm von Humboldt\nis referred to in the book; but he by no means stood alone in his own\ncountry. During the early part of the present century the doctrine of\nthe rights of individuality, and the claim of the moral nature to\ndevelop itself in its own way, was pushed by a whole school of German\nauthors even to exaggeration; and the writings of Goethe, the most\ncelebrated of all German authors, though not belonging to that or to any\nother school, are penetrated throughout by views of morals and of\nconduct in life, often in my opinion not defensible, but which are\nincessantly seeking whatever defence they admit of in the theory of the\nright and duty of self-development. In our own country before the book\n_On Liberty_ was written, the doctrine of Individuality had been\nenthusiastically asserted, in a style of vigorous declamation sometimes\nreminding one of Fichte, by Mr. William Maccall, in a series of writings\nof which the most elaborate is entitled _Elements of Individualism_: and\na remarkable American, Mr. Warren, had framed a System of Society, on\nthe foundation of _the Sovereignty of the individual_, had obtained a\nnumber of followers, and had actually commenced the formation of a\nVillage Community (whether it now exists I know not), which, though\nbearing a superficial resemblance to some of the projects of Socialists,\nis diametrically opposite to them in principle, since it recognizes no\nauthority whatever in Society over the individual, except to enforce\nequal freedom of development for all individualities. As the book which\nbears my name claimed no originality for any of its doctrines, and was\nnot intended to write their history, the only author who had preceded me\nin their assertion, of whom I thought it appropriate to say anything,\nwas Humboldt, who furnished the motto to the work; although in one\npassage I borrowed from the Warrenites their phrase, the sovereignty of\nthe individual. It is hardly necessary here to remark that there are\nabundant differences in detail, between the conception of the doctrine\nby any of the predecessors I have mentioned, and that set forth in the\nbook.\n\nThe political circumstances of the time induced me, shortly after, to\ncomplete and publish a pamphlet (_Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform_),\npart of which had been written some years previously on the occasion of\none of the abortive Reform Bills, and had at the time been approved and\nrevised by her. Its principal features were, hostility to the Ballot (a\nchange of opinion in both of us, in which she rather preceded me), and a\nclaim of representation for minorities; not, however, at that time going\nbeyond the cumulative vote proposed by Mr. Garth Marshall. In finishing\nthe pamphlet for publication, with a view to the discussions on the\nReform Bill of Lord Derby's and Mr. Disraeli's Government in 1859, I\nadded a third feature, a plurality of votes, to be given, not to\nproperty, but to proved superiority of education. This recommended\nitself to me as a means of reconciling the irresistible claim of every\nman or woman to be consulted, and to be allowed a voice, in the\nregulation of affairs which vitally concern them, with the superiority\nof weight justly due to opinions grounded on superiority of knowledge.\nThe suggestion, however, was one which I had never discussed with my\nalmost infallible counsellor, and I have no evidence that she would have\nconcurred in it. As far as I have been able to observe, it has found\nfavour with nobody; all who desire any sort of inequality in the\nelectoral vote, desiring it in favour of property and not of\nintelligence or knowledge. If it ever overcomes the strong feeling which\nexists against it, this will only be after the establishment of a\nsystematic National Education by which the various grades of politically\nvaluable acquirement may be accurately defined and authenticated.\nWithout this it will always remain liable to strong, possibly\nconclusive, objections; and with this, it would perhaps not be needed.\n\nIt was soon after the publication of _Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform_,\nthat I became acquainted with Mr. Hare's admirable system of Personal\nRepresentation, which, in its present shape, was then for the first time\npublished. I saw in this great practical and philosophical idea, the\ngreatest improvement of which the system of representative government is\nsusceptible; an improvement which, in the most felicitous manner,\nexactly meets and cures the grand, and what before seemed the inherent,\ndefect of the representative system; that of giving to a numerical\nmajority all power, instead of only a power proportional to its numbers,\nand enabling the strongest party to exclude all weaker parties from\nmaking their opinions heard in the assembly of the nation, except\nthrough such opportunity as may be given to them by the accidentally\nunequal distribution of opinions in different localities. To these great\nevils nothing more than very imperfect palliations had seemed possible;\nbut Mr. Hare's system affords a radical cure. This great discovery, for\nit is no less, in the political art, inspired me, as I believe it has\ninspired all thoughtful persons who have adopted it, with new and more\nsanguine hopes respecting the prospects of human society; by freeing the\nform of political institutions towards which the whole civilized world\nis manifestly and irresistibly tending, from the chief part of what\nseemed to qualify, or render doubtful, its ultimate benefits.\nMinorities, so long as they remain minorities, are, and ought to be,\noutvoted; but under arrangements which enable any assemblage of voters,\namounting to a certain number, to place in the legislature a\nrepresentative of its own choice, minorities cannot be suppressed.\nIndependent opinions will force their way into the council of the nation\nand make themselves heard there, a thing which often cannot happen in\nthe existing forms of representative democracy; and the legislature,\ninstead of being weeded of individual peculiarities and entirely made up\nof men who simply represent the creed of great political or religious\nparties, will comprise a large proportion of the most eminent individual\nminds in the country, placed there, without reference to party, by\nvoters who appreciate their individual eminence. I can understand that\npersons, otherwise intelligent, should, for want of sufficient\nexamination, be repelled from Mr. Hare's plan by what they think the\ncomplex nature of its machinery. But any one who does not feel the want\nwhich the scheme is intended to supply; any one who throws it over as a\nmere theoretical subtlety or crotchet, tending to no valuable purpose,\nand unworthy of the attention of practical men, may be pronounced an\nincompetent statesman, unequal to the politics of the future. I mean,\nunless he is a minister or aspires to become one: for we are quite\naccustomed to a minister continuing to profess unqualified hostility to\nan improvement almost to the very day when his conscience or his\ninterest induces him to take it up as a public measure, and carry it.\n\nHad I met with Mr. Hare's system before the publication of my pamphlet,\nI should have given an account of it there. Not having done so, I wrote\nan article in _Fraser's Magazine_ (reprinted in my miscellaneous\nwritings) principally for that purpose, though I included in it, along\nwith Mr. Hare's book, a review of two other productions on the question\nof the day; one of them a pamphlet by my early friend, Mr. John Austin,\nwho had in his old age become an enemy to all further Parliamentary\nreform; the other an able and vigourous, though partially erroneous,\nwork by Mr. Lorimer.\n\nIn the course of the same summer I fulfilled a duty particularly\nincumbent upon me, that of helping (by an article in the _Edinburgh\nReview_) to make known Mr. Bain's profound treatise on the Mind, just\nthen completed by the publication of its second volume. And I carried\nthrough the press a selection of my minor writings, forming the first\ntwo volumes of _Dissertations and Discussions_. The selection had been\nmade during my wife's lifetime, but the revision, in concert with her,\nwith a view to republication, had been barely commenced; and when I had\nno longer the guidance of her judgment I despaired of pursuing it\nfurther, and republished the papers as they were, with the exception of\nstriking out such passages as were no longer in accordance with my\nopinions. My literary work of the year was terminated with an essay in\n_Fraser's Magazine_ (afterwards republished in the third volume of\n_Dissertations and Discussions_), entitled \"A Few Words on\nNon-Intervention.\" I was prompted to write this paper by a desire, while\nvindicating England from the imputations commonly brought against her on\nthe Continent, of a peculiar selfishness in matters of foreign policy to\nwarn Englishmen of the colour given to this imputation by the low tone\nin which English statesmen are accustomed to speak of English policy as\nconcerned only with English interests, and by the conduct of Lord\nPalmerston at that particular time in opposing the Suez Canal; and I\ntook the opportunity of expressing ideas which had long been in my mind\n(some of them generated by my Indian experience, and others by the\ninternational questions which then greatly occupied the European\npublic), respecting the true principles of international morality, and\nthe legitimate modifications made in it by difference of times and\ncircumstances; a subject I had already, to some extent, discussed in the\nvindication of the French Provisional Government of 1848 against the\nattacks of Lord Brougham and others, which I published at the time in\nthe _Westminster Review_, and which is reprinted in the _Dissertations_.\n\nI had now settled, as I believed, for the remainder of my existence into\na purely literary life; if that can be called literary which continued\nto be occupied in a pre-eminent degree with politics, and not merely\nwith theoretical, but practical politics, although a great part of the\nyear was spent at a distance of many hundred miles from the chief seat\nof the politics of my own country, to which, and primarily for which, I\nwrote. But, in truth, the modern facilities of communication have not\nonly removed all the disadvantages, to a political writer in tolerably\neasy circumstances, of distance from the scene of political action, but\nhave converted them into advantages. The immediate and regular receipt\nof newspapers and periodicals keeps him _au courant_ of even the most\ntemporary politics, and gives him a much more correct view of the state\nand progress of opinion than he could acquire by personal contact with\nindividuals: for every one's social intercourse is more or less limited\nto particular sets or classes, whose impressions and no others reach him\nthrough that channel; and experience has taught me that those who give\ntheir time to the absorbing claims of what is called society, not having\nleisure to keep up a large acquaintance with the organs of opinion,\nremain much more ignorant of the general state either of the public\nmind, or of the active and instructed part of it, than a recluse who\nreads the newspapers need be. There are, no doubt, disadvantages in too\nlong a separation from one's country--in not occasionally renewing\none's impressions of the light in which men and things appear when seen\nfrom a position in the midst of them; but the deliberate judgment formed\nat a distance, and undisturbed by inequalities of perspective, is the\nmost to be depended on, even for application to practice. Alternating\nbetween the two positions, I combined the advantages of both. And,\nthough the inspirer of my best thoughts was no longer with me, I was not\nalone: she had left a daughter, my stepdaughter, [Miss Helen Taylor, the\ninheritor of much of her wisdom, and of all her nobleness of character,]\nwhose ever growing and ripening talents from that day to this have been\ndevoted to the same great purposes [and have already made her name\nbetter and more widely known than was that of her mother, though far\nless so than I predict, that if she lives it is destined to become. Of\nthe value of her direct cooperation with me, something will be said\nhereafter, of what I owe in the way of instruction to her great powers\nof original thought and soundness of practical judgment, it would be a\nvain attempt to give an adequate idea]. Surely no one ever before was so\nfortunate, as, after such a loss as mine, to draw another prize in the\nlottery of life [--another companion, stimulator, adviser, and\ninstructor of the rarest quality]. Whoever, either now or hereafter, may\nthink of me and of the work I have done, must never forget that it is\nthe product not of one intellect and conscience, but of three[, the\nleast considerable of whom, and above all the least original, is the one\nwhose name is attached to it].\n\nThe work of the years 1860 and 1861 consisted chiefly of two treatises,\nonly one of which was intended for immediate publication. This was the\n_Considerations on Representative Government_; a connected exposition of\nwhat, by the thoughts of many years, I had come to regard as the best\nform of a popular constitution. Along with as much of the general theory\nof government as is necessary to support this particular portion of its\npractice, the volume contains many matured views of the principal\nquestions which occupy the present age, within the province of purely\norganic institutions, and raises, by anticipation, some other questions\nto which growing necessities will sooner or later compel the attention\nboth of theoretical and of practical politicians. The chief of these\nlast, is the distinction between the function of making laws, for which\na numerous popular assembly is radically unfit, and that of getting good\nlaws made, which is its proper duty and cannot be satisfactorily\nfulfilled by any other authority: and the consequent need of a\nLegislative Commission, as a permanent part of the constitution of a\nfree country; consisting of a small number of highly trained political\nminds, on whom, when Parliament has determined that a law shall be made,\nthe task of making it should be devolved: Parliament retaining the power\nof passing or rejecting the bill when drawn up, but not of altering it\notherwise than by sending proposed amendments to be dealt with by the\nCommission. The question here raised respecting the most important of\nall public functions, that of legislation, is a particular case of the\ngreat problem of modern political organization, stated, I believe, for\nthe first time in its full extent by Bentham, though in my opinion not\nalways satisfactorily resolved by him; the combination of complete\npopular control over public affairs, with the greatest attainable\nperfection of skilled agency.\n\nThe other treatise written at this time is the one which was published\nsome years[7] later under the title of _The Subjection of Women._ It was\nwritten [at my daughter's suggestion] that there might, in any event, be\nin existence a written exposition of my opinions on that great question,\nas full and conclusive as I could make it. The intention was to keep\nthis among other unpublished papers, improving it from time to time if I\nwas able, and to publish it at the time when it should seem likely to be\nmost useful. As ultimately published [it was enriched with some\nimportant ideas of my daughter's, and passages of her writing. But] in\nwhat was of my own composition, all that is most striking and profound\nbelongs to my wife; coming from the fund of thought which had been made\ncommon to us both, by our innumerable conversations and discussions on a\ntopic which filled so large a place in our minds.\n\nSoon after this time I took from their repository a portion of the\nunpublished papers which I had written during the last years of our\nmarried life, and shaped them, with some additional matter, into the\nlittle work entitled _Utilitarianism_; which was first published, in\nthree parts, in successive numbers of _Fraser's Magazine_, and\nafterwards reprinted in a volume.\n\nBefore this, however, the state of public affairs had become extremely\ncritical, by the commencement of the American civil war. My strongest\nfeelings were engaged in this struggle, which, I felt from the\nbeginning, was destined to be a turning point, for good or evil, of the\ncourse of human affairs for an indefinite duration. Having been a deeply\ninterested observer of the slavery quarrel in America, during the many\nyears that preceded the open breach, I knew that it was in all its\nstages an aggressive enterprise of the slave-owners to extend the\nterritory of slavery; under the combined influences of pecuniary\ninterest, domineering temper, and the fanaticism of a class for its\nclass privileges, influences so fully and powerfully depicted in the\nadmirable work of my friend Professor Cairnes, _The Slave Power_. Their\nsuccess, if they succeeded, would be a victory of the powers of evil\nwhich would give courage to the enemies of progress and damp the spirits\nof its friends all over the civilized world, while it would create a\nformidable military power, grounded on the worst and most anti-social\nform of the tyranny of men over men, and, by destroying for a long time\nthe prestige of the great democratic republic, would give to all the\nprivileged classes of Europe a false confidence, probably only to be\nextinguished in blood. On the other hand, if the spirit of the North was\nsufficiently roused to carry the war to a successful termination, and if\nthat termination did not come too soon and too easily, I foresaw, from\nthe laws of human nature, and the experience of revolutions, that when\nit did come it would in all probability be thorough: that the bulk of\nthe Northern population, whose conscience had as yet been awakened only\nto the point of resisting the further extension of slavery, but whose\nfidelity to the Constitution of the United States made them disapprove\nof any attempt by the Federal Government to interfere with slavery in\nthe States where it already existed, would acquire feelings of another\nkind when the Constitution had been shaken off by armed rebellion, would\ndetermine to have done for ever with the accursed thing, and would join\ntheir banner with that of the noble body of Abolitionists, of whom\nGarrison was the courageous and single-minded apostle, Wendell Phillips\nthe eloquent orator, and John Brown the voluntary martyr.[8] Then, too,\nthe whole mind of the United States would be let loose from its bonds,\nno longer corrupted by the supposed necessity of apologizing to\nforeigners for the most flagrant of all possible violations of the free\nprinciples of their Constitution; while the tendency of a fixed state of\nsociety to stereotype a set of national opinions would be at least\ntemporarily checked, and the national mind would become more open to the\nrecognition of whatever was bad in either the institutions or the\ncustoms of the people. These hopes, so far as related to slavery, have\nbeen completely, and in other respects are in course of being\nprogressively realized. Foreseeing from the first this double set of\nconsequences from the success or failure of the rebellion, it may be\nimagined with what feelings I contemplated the rush of nearly the whole\nupper and middle classes of my own country even those who passed for\nLiberals, into a furious pro-Southern partisanship: the working\nclasses, and some of the literary and scientific men, being almost the\nsole exceptions to the general frenzy. I never before felt so keenly how\nlittle permanent improvement had reached the minds of our influential\nclasses, and of what small value were the liberal opinions they had got\ninto the habit of professing. None of the Continental Liberals committed\nthe same frightful mistake. But the generation which had extorted negro\nemancipation from our West India planters had passed away; another had\nsucceeded which had not learnt by many years of discussion and exposure\nto feel strongly the enormities of slavery; and the inattention habitual\nwith Englishmen to whatever is going on in the world outside their own\nisland, made them profoundly ignorant of all the antecedents of the\nstruggle, insomuch that it was not generally believed in England, for\nthe first year or two of the war, that the quarrel was one of slavery.\nThere were men of high principle and unquestionable liberality of\nopinion, who thought it a dispute about tariffs, or assimilated it to\nthe cases in which they were accustomed to sympathize, of a people\nstruggling for independence.\n\nIt was my obvious duty to be one of the small minority who protested\nagainst this perverted state of public opinion. I was not the first to\nprotest. It ought to be remembered to the honour of Mr. Hughes and of\nMr. Ludlow, that they, by writings published at the very beginning of\nthe struggle, began the protestation. Mr. Bright followed in one of the\nmost powerful of his speeches, followed by others not less striking. I\nwas on the point of adding my words to theirs, when there occurred,\ntowards the end of 1861, the seizure of the Southern envoys on board a\nBritish vessel, by an officer of the United States. Even English\nforgetfulness has not yet had time to lose all remembrance of the\nexplosion of feeling in England which then burst forth, the expectation,\nprevailing for some weeks, of war with the United States, and the\nwarlike preparations actually commenced on this side. While this state\nof things lasted, there was no chance of a hearing for anything\nfavourable to the American cause; and, moreover, I agreed with those who\nthought the act unjustifiable, and such as to require that England\nshould demand its disavowal. When the disavowal came, and the alarm of\nwar was over, I wrote, in January, 1862, the paper, in _Fraser's\nMagazine_, entitled \"The Contest in America,\" [and I shall always feel\ngrateful to my daughter that her urgency prevailed on me to write it\nwhen I did, for we were then on the point of setting out for a journey\nof some months in Greece and Turkey, and but for her, I should have\ndeferred writing till our return.] Written and published when it was,\nthis paper helped to encourage those Liberals who had felt overborne by\nthe tide of illiberal opinion, and to form in favour of the good cause a\nnucleus of opinion which increased gradually, and, after the success of\nthe North began to seem probable, rapidly. When we returned from our\njourney I wrote a second article, a review of Professor Cairnes' book,\npublished in the _Westminster Review_. England is paying the penalty, in\nmany uncomfortable ways, of the durable resentment which her ruling\nclasses stirred up in the United States by their ostentatious wishes for\nthe ruin of America as a nation; they have reason to be thankful that a\nfew, if only a few, known writers and speakers, standing firmly by the\nAmericans in the time of their greatest difficulty, effected a partial\ndiversion of these bitter feelings, and made Great Britain not\naltogether odious to the Americans.\n\nThis duty having been performed, my principal occupation for the next\ntwo years was on subjects not political. The publication of Mr. Austin's\n_Lectures on Jurisprudence_ after his decease, gave me an opportunity of\npaying a deserved tribute to his memory, and at the same time expressing\nsome thoughts on a subject on which, in my old days of Benthamism, I had\nbestowed much study. But the chief product of those years was the\n_Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy_. His _Lectures_,\npublished in 1860 and 1861, I had read towards the end of the latter\nyear, with a half-formed intention of giving an account of them in a\nReview, but I soon found that this would be idle, and that justice could\nnot be done to the subject in less than a volume. I had then to consider\nwhether it would be advisable that I myself should attempt such a\nperformance. On consideration, there seemed to be strong reasons for\ndoing so. I was greatly disappointed with the _Lectures_. I read them,\ncertainly, with no prejudice against Sir William Hamilton. I had up to\nthat time deferred the study of his _Notes to Reid_ on account of their\nunfinished state, but I had not neglected his _Discussions in\nPhilosophy_; and though I knew that his general mode of treating the\nfacts of mental philosophy differed from that of which I most approved,\nyet his vigorous polemic against the later Transcendentalists, and his\nstrenuous assertion of some important principles, especially the\nRelativity of human knowledge, gave me many points of sympathy with his\nopinions, and made me think that genuine psychology had considerably\nmore to gain than to lose by his authority and reputation. His\n_Lectures_ and the _Dissertations on Reid_ dispelled this illusion: and\neven the _Discussions_, read by the light which these throw on them,\nlost much of their value. I found that the points of apparent agreement\nbetween his opinions and mine were more verbal than real; that the\nimportant philosophical principles which I had thought he recognised,\nwere so explained away by him as to mean little or nothing, or were\ncontinually lost sight of, and doctrines entirely inconsistent with them\nwere taught in nearly every part of his philosophical writings. My\nestimation of him was therefore so far altered, that instead of\nregarding him as occupying a kind of intermediate position between the\ntwo rival philosophies, holding some of the principles of both, and\nsupplying to both powerful weapons of attack and defence, I now looked\nupon him as one of the pillars, and in this country from his high\nphilosophical reputation the chief pillar, of that one of the two which\nseemed to me to be erroneous.\n\nNow, the difference between these two schools of philosophy, that of\nIntuition, and that of Experience and Association, is not a mere matter\nof abstract speculation; it is full of practical consequences, and lies\nat the foundation of all the greatest differences of practical opinion\nin an age of progress. The practical reformer has continually to demand\nthat changes be made in things which are supported by powerful and\nwidely-spread feelings, or to question the apparent necessity and\nindefeasibleness of established facts; and it is often an indispensable\npart of his argument to show, how those powerful feelings had their\norigin, and how those facts came to seem necessary and indefeasible.\nThere is therefore a natural hostility between him and a philosophy\nwhich discourages the explanation of feelings and moral facts by\ncircumstances and association, and prefers to treat them as ultimate\nelements of human nature; a philosophy which is addicted to holding up\nfavourite doctrines as intuitive truths, and deems intuition to be the\nvoice of Nature and of God, speaking with an authority higher than that\nof our reason. In particular, I have long felt that the prevailing\ntendency to regard all the marked distinctions of human character as\ninnate, and in the main indelible, and to ignore the irresistible proofs\nthat by far the greater part of those differences, whether between\nindividuals, races, or sexes, are such as not only might but naturally\nwould be produced by differences in circumstances, is one of the chief\nhindrances to the rational treatment of great social questions, and one\nof the greatest stumbling blocks to human improvement. This tendency has\nits source in the intuitional metaphysics which characterized the\nreaction of the nineteenth century against the eighteenth, and it is a\ntendency so agreeable to human indolence, as well as to conservative\ninterests generally, that unless attacked at the very root, it is sure\nto be carried to even a greater length than is really justified by the\nmore moderate forms of the intuitional philosophy. That philosophy not\nalways in its moderate forms, had ruled the thought of Europe for the\ngreater part of a century. My father's _Analysis of the Mind_, my own\n_Logic_, and Professor Bain's great treatise, had attempted to\nre-introduce a better mode of philosophizing, latterly with quite as\nmuch success as could be expected; but I had for some time felt that the\nmere contrast of the two philosophies was not enough, that there ought\nto be a hand-to-hand fight between them, that controversial as well as\nexpository writings were needed, and that the time was come when such\ncontroversy would be useful. Considering, then, the writings and fame of\nSir W. Hamilton as the great fortress of the intuitional philosophy in\nthis country, a fortress the more formidable from the imposing\ncharacter, and the in many respects great personal merits and mental\nendowments, of the man, I thought it might be a real service to\nphilosophy to attempt a thorough examination of all his most important\ndoctrines, and an estimate of his general claims to eminence as a\nphilosopher; and I was confirmed in this resolution by observing that in\nthe writings of at least one, and him one of the ablest, of Sir W.\nHamilton's followers, his peculiar doctrines were made the justification\nof a view of religion which I hold to be profoundly immoral--that it is\nour duty to bow down in worship before a Being whose moral attributes\nare affirmed to be unknowable by us, and to be perhaps extremely\ndifferent from those which, when we are speaking of our\nfellow-creatures, we call by the same names.\n\nAs I advanced in my task, the damage to Sir W. Hamilton's reputation\nbecame greater than I at first expected, through the almost incredible\nmultitude of inconsistencies which showed themselves on comparing\ndifferent passages with one another. It was my business, however, to\nshow things exactly as they were, and I did not flinch from it. I\nendeavoured always to treat the philosopher whom I criticized with the\nmost scrupulous fairness; and I knew that he had abundance of disciples\nand admirers to correct me if I ever unintentionally did him injustice.\nMany of them accordingly have answered me, more or less elaborately, and\nthey have pointed out oversights and misunderstandings, though few in\nnumber, and mostly very unimportant in substance. Such of those as had\n(to my knowledge) been pointed out before the publication of the latest\nedition (at present the third) have been corrected there, and the\nremainder of the criticisms have been, as far as seemed necessary,\nreplied to. On the whole, the book has done its work: it has shown the\nweak side of Sir William Hamilton, and has reduced his too great\nphilosophical reputation within more moderate bounds; and by some of its\ndiscussions, as well as by two expository chapters, on the notions of\nMatter and of Mind, it has perhaps thrown additional light on some of\nthe disputed questions in the domain of psychology and metaphysics.\n\nAfter the completion of the book on Hamilton, I applied myself to a task\nwhich a variety of reasons seemed to render specially incumbent upon me;\nthat of giving an account, and forming an estimate, of the doctrines of\nAuguste Comte. I had contributed more than any one else to make his\nspeculations known in England, and, in consequence chiefly of what I had\nsaid of him in my _Logic_, he had readers and admirers among thoughtful\nmen on this side of the Channel at a time when his name had not yet in\nFrance emerged from obscurity. So unknown and unappreciated was he at\nthe time when my _Logic_ was written and published, that to criticize\nhis weak points might well appear superfluous, while it was a duty to\ngive as much publicity as one could to the important contributions he\nhad made to philosophic thought. At the time, however, at which I have\nnow arrived, this state of affairs had entirely changed. His name, at\nleast, was known almost universally, and the general character of his\ndoctrines very widely. He had taken his place in the estimation both of\nfriends and opponents, as one of the conspicuous figures in the thought\nof the age. The better parts of his speculations had made great progress\nin working their way into those minds, which, by their previous culture\nand tendencies, were fitted to receive them: under cover of those better\nparts those of a worse character, greatly developed and added to in his\nlater writings, had also made some way, having obtained active and\nenthusiastic adherents, some of them of no inconsiderable personal\nmerit, in England, France, and other countries. These causes not only\nmade it desirable that some one should undertake the task of sifting\nwhat is good from what is bad in M. Comte's speculations, but seemed to\nimpose on myself in particular a special obligation to make the attempt.\nThis I accordingly did in two essays, published in successive numbers of\nthe _Westminster Review_, and reprinted in a small volume under the\ntitle _Auguste Comte and Positivism_.\n\nThe writings which I have now mentioned, together with a small number of\npapers in periodicals which I have not deemed worth preserving, were the\nwhole of the products of my activity as a writer during the years from\n1859 to 1865. In the early part of the last-mentioned year, in\ncompliance with a wish frequently expressed to me by working men, I\npublished cheap People's Editions of those of my writings which seemed\nthe most likely to find readers among the working classes; viz,\n_Principles of Political Economy_, _Liberty_, and _Representative\nGovernment_. This was a considerable sacrifice of my pecuniary interest,\nespecially as I resigned all idea of deriving profit from the cheap\neditions, and after ascertaining from my publishers the lowest price\nwhich they thought would remunerate them on the usual terms of an equal\ndivision of profits, I gave up my half share to enable the price to be\nfixed still lower. To the credit of Messrs. Longman they fixed, unasked,\na certain number of years after which the copyright and stereotype\nplates were to revert to me, and a certain number of copies after the\nsale of which I should receive half of any further profit. This number\nof copies (which in the case of the _Political Economy_ was 10,000) has\nfor some time been exceeded, and the People's Editions have begun to\nyield me a small but unexpected pecuniary return, though very far from\nan equivalent for the diminution of profit from the Library Editions.\n\nIn this summary of my outward life I have now arrived at the period at\nwhich my tranquil and retired existence as a writer of books was to be\nexchanged for the less congenial occupation of a member of the House of\nCommons. The proposal made to me, early in 1865, by some electors of\nWestminster, did not present the idea to me for the first time. It was\nnot even the first offer I had received, for, more than ten years\nprevious, in consequence of my opinions on the Irish Land Question, Mr.\nLucas and Mr. Duffy, in the name of the popular party in Ireland,\noffered to bring me into Parliament for an Irish county, which they\ncould easily have done: but the incompatibility of a seat in Parliament\nwith the office I then held in the India House, precluded even\nconsideration of the proposal. After I had quitted the India House,\nseveral of my friends would gladly have seen me a member of Parliament;\nbut there seemed no probability that the idea would ever take any\npractical shape. I was convinced that no numerous or influential portion\nof any electoral body, really wished to be represented by a person of my\nopinions; and that one who possessed no local connection or popularity,\nand who did not choose to stand as the mere organ of a party had small\nchance of being elected anywhere unless through the expenditure of\nmoney. Now it was, and is, my fixed conviction, that a candidate ought\nnot to incur one farthing of expense for undertaking a public duty. Such\nof the lawful expenses of an election as have no special reference to\nany particular candidate, ought to be borne as a public charge, either\nby the State or by the locality. What has to be done by the supporters\nof each candidate in order to bring his claims properly before the\nconstituency, should be done by unpaid agency or by voluntary\nsubscription. If members of the electoral body, or others, are willing\nto subscribe money of their own for the purpose of bringing, by lawful\nmeans, into Parliament some one who they think would be useful there, no\none is entitled to object: but that the expense, or any part of it,\nshould fall on the candidate, is fundamentally wrong; because it amounts\nin reality to buying his seat. Even on the most favourable supposition\nas to the mode in which the money is expended, there is a legitimate\nsuspicion that any one who gives money for leave to undertake a public\ntrust, has other than public ends to promote by it; and (a consideration\nof the greatest importance) the cost of elections, when borne by the\ncandidates, deprives the nation of the services, as members of\nParliament, of all who cannot or will not afford to incur a heavy\nexpense. I do not say that, so long as there is scarcely a chance for an\nindependent candidate to come into Parliament without complying with\nthis vicious practice, it must always be morally wrong in him to spend\nmoney, provided that no part of it is either directly or indirectly\nemployed in corruption. But, to justify it, he ought to be very certain\nthat he can be of more use to his country as a member of Parliament than\nin any other mode which is open to him; and this assurance, in my own\ncase, I did not feel. It was by no means clear to me that I could do\nmore to advance the public objects which had a claim on my exertions,\nfrom the benches of the House of Commons, than from the simple position\nof a writer. I felt, therefore, that I ought not to seek election to\nParliament, much less to expend any money in procuring it.\n\nBut the conditions of the question were considerably altered when a body\nof electors sought me out, and spontaneously offered to bring me forward\nas their candidate. If it should appear, on explanation, that they\npersisted in this wish, knowing my opinions, and accepting the only\nconditions on which I could conscientiously serve, it was questionable\nwhether this was not one of those calls upon a member of the community\nby his fellow-citizens, which he was scarcely justified in rejecting. I\ntherefore put their disposition to the proof by one of the frankest\nexplanations ever tendered, I should think, to an electoral body by a\ncandidate. I wrote, in reply to the offer, a letter for publication,\nsaying that I had no personal wish to be a member of Parliament, that I\nthought a candidate ought neither to canvass nor to incur any expense,\nand that I could not consent to do either. I said further, that if\nelected, I could not undertake to give any of my time and labour to\ntheir local interests. With respect to general politics, I told them\nwithout reserve, what I thought on a number of important subjects on\nwhich they had asked my opinion: and one of these being the suffrage, I\nmade known to them, among other things, my conviction (as I was bound to\ndo, since I intended, if elected, to act on it), that women were\nentitled to representation in Parliament on the same terms with men. It\nwas the first time, doubtless, that such a doctrine had ever been\nmentioned to English electors; and the fact that I was elected after\nproposing it, gave the start to the movement which has since become so\nvigorous, in favour of women's suffrage. Nothing, at the time, appeared\nmore unlikely than that a candidate (if candidate I could be called)\nwhose professions and conduct set so completely at defiance all ordinary\nnotions of electioneering, should nevertheless be elected. A well-known\nliterary man[, who was also a man of society,] was heard to say that the\nAlmighty himself would have no chance of being elected on such a\nprogramme. I strictly adhered to it, neither spending money nor\ncanvassing, nor did I take any personal part in the election, until\nabout a week preceding the day of nomination, when I attended a few\npublic meetings to state my principles and give to any questions which\nthe electors might exercise their just right of putting to me for their\nown guidance; answers as plain and unreserved as my address. On one\nsubject only, my religious opinions, I announced from the beginning that\nI would answer no questions; a determination which appeared to be\ncompletely approved by those who attended the meetings. My frankness on\nall other subjects on which I was interrogated, evidently did me far\nmore good than my answers, whatever they might be, did harm. Among the\nproofs I received of this, one is too remarkable not to be recorded. In\nthe pamphlet, _Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform_, I had said, rather\nbluntly, that the working classes, though differing from those of some\nother countries, in being ashamed of lying, are yet generally liars.\nThis passage some opponent got printed in a placard, which was handed to\nme at a meeting, chiefly composed of the working classes, and I was\nasked whether I had written and published it. I at once answered \"I\ndid.\" Scarcely were these two words out of my mouth, when vehement\napplause resounded through the whole meeting. It was evident that the\nworking people were so accustomed to expect equivocation and evasion\nfrom those who sought their suffrages, that when they found, instead of\nthat, a direct avowal of what was likely to be disagreeable to them,\ninstead of being affronted, they concluded at once that this was a\nperson whom they could trust. A more striking instance never came under\nmy notice of what, I believe, is the experience of those who best know\nthe working classes, that the most essential of all recommendations to\ntheir favour is that of complete straightforwardness; its presence\noutweighs in their minds very strong objections, while no amount of\nother qualities will make amends for its apparent absence. The first\nworking man who spoke after the incident I have mentioned (it was Mr.\nOdger) said, that the working classes had no desire not to be told of\ntheir faults; they wanted friends, not flatterers, and felt under\nobligation to any one who told them anything in themselves which he\nsincerely believed to require amendment. And to this the meeting\nheartily responded.\n\nHad I been defeated in the election, I should still have had no reason\nto regret the contact it had brought me into with large bodies of my\ncountrymen; which not only gave me much new experience, but enabled me\nto scatter my political opinions rather widely, and, by making me known\nin many quarters where I had never before been heard of, increased the\nnumber of my readers, and the presumable influence of my writings. These\nlatter effects were of course produced in a still greater degree, when,\nas much to my surprise as to that of any one, I was returned to\nParliament by a majority of some hundreds over my Conservative\ncompetitor.\n\nI was a member of the House during the three sessions of the Parliament\nwhich passed the Reform Bill; during which time Parliament was\nnecessarily my main occupation, except during the recess. I was a\ntolerably frequent speaker, sometimes of prepared speeches, sometimes\nextemporaneously. But my choice of occasions was not such as I should\nhave made if my leading object had been Parliamentary influence. When I\nhad gained the ear of the House, which I did by a successful speech on\nMr. Gladstone's Reform Bill, the idea I proceeded on was that when\nanything was likely to be as well done, or sufficiently well done, by\nother people, there was no necessity for me to meddle with it. As I,\ntherefore, in general reserved myself for work which no others were\nlikely to do, a great proportion of my appearances were on points on\nwhich the bulk of the Liberal party, even the advanced portion of it,\neither were of a different opinion from mine, or were comparatively\nindifferent. Several of my speeches, especially one against the motion\nfor the abolition of capital punishment, and another in favour of\nresuming the right of seizing enemies' goods in neutral vessels, were\nopposed to what then was, and probably still is, regarded as the\nadvanced liberal opinion. My advocacy of women's suffrage and of\nPersonal Representation, were at the time looked upon by many as whims\nof my own; but the great progress since made by those opinions, and\nespecially the response made from almost all parts of the kingdom to the\ndemand for women's suffrage, fully justified the timeliness of those\nmovements, and have made what was undertaken as a moral and social duty,\na personal success. Another duty which was particularly incumbent on me\nas one of the Metropolitan Members, was the attempt to obtain a\nMunicipal Government for the Metropolis: but on that subject the\nindifference of the House of Commons was such that I found hardly any\nhelp or support within its walls. On this subject, however, I was the\norgan of an active and intelligent body of persons outside, with whom,\nand not with me, the scheme originated, and who carried on all the\nagitation on the subject and drew up the Bills. My part was to bring in\nBills already prepared, and to sustain the discussion of them during the\nshort time they were allowed to remain before the House; after having\ntaken an active part in the work of a Committee presided over by Mr.\nAyrton, which sat through the greater part of the Session of 1866, to\ntake evidence on the subject. The very different position in which the\nquestion now stands (1870) may justly be attributed to the preparation\nwhich went on during those years, and which produced but little visible\neffect at the time; but all questions on which there are strong private\ninterests on one side, and only the public good on the other, have a\nsimilar period of incubation to go through.\n\nThe same idea, that the use of my being in Parliament was to do work\nwhich others were not able or not willing to do, made me think it my\nduty to come to the front in defence of advanced Liberalism on occasions\nwhen the obloquy to be encountered was such as most of the advanced\nLiberals in the House, preferred not to incur. My first vote in the\nHouse was in support of an amendment in favour of Ireland, moved by an\nIrish member, and for which only five English and Scotch votes were\ngiven, including my own: the other four were Mr. Bright, Mr. McLaren,\nMr. T.B. Potter, and Mr. Hadfield. And the second speech I delivered[9]\nwas on the bill to prolong the suspension of the Habeas Corpus in\nIreland. In denouncing, on this occasion, the English mode of governing\nIreland, I did no more than the general opinion of England now admits to\nhave been just; but the anger against Fenianism was then in all its\nfreshness; any attack on what Fenians attacked was looked upon as an\napology for them; and I was so unfavourably received by the House, that\nmore than one of my friends advised me (and my own judgment agreed with\nthe advice) to wait, before speaking again, for the favourable\nopportunity that would be given by the first great debate on the Reform\nBill. During this silence, many flattered themselves that I had turned\nout a failure, and that they should not be troubled with me any more.\nPerhaps their uncomplimentary comments may, by the force of reaction,\nhave helped to make my speech on the Reform Bill the success it was. My\nposition in the House was further improved by a speech in which I\ninsisted on the duty of paying off the National Debt before our coal\nsupplies are exhausted, and by an ironical reply to some of the Tory\nleaders who had quoted against me certain passages of my writings, and\ncalled me to account for others, especially for one in my\n_Considerations on Representative Government_, which said that the\nConservative party was, by the law of its composition, the stupidest\nparty. They gained nothing by drawing attention to the passage, which up\nto that time had not excited any notice, but the _sobriquet_ of \"the\nstupid party\" stuck to them for a considerable time afterwards. Having\nnow no longer any apprehension of not being listened to, I confined\nmyself, as I have since thought too much, to occasions on which my\nservices seemed specially needed, and abstained more than enough from\nspeaking on the great party questions. With the exception of Irish\nquestions, and those which concerned the working classes, a single\nspeech on Mr. Disraeli's Reform Bill was nearly all that I contributed\nto the great decisive debates of the last two of my three sessions.\n\nI have, however, much satisfaction in looking back to the part I took on\nthe two classes of subjects just mentioned. With regard to the working\nclasses, the chief topic of my speech on Mr. Gladstone's Reform Bill was\nthe assertion of their claims to the suffrage. A little later, after the\nresignation of Lord Russell's Ministry and the succession of a Tory\nGovernment, came the attempt of the working classes to hold a meeting in\nHyde Park, their exclusion by the police, and the breaking down of the\npark railing by the crowd. Though Mr. Beales and the leaders of the\nworking men had retired under protest before this took place, a scuffle\nensued in which many innocent persons were maltreated by the police, and\nthe exasperation of the working men was extreme. They showed a\ndetermination to make another attempt at a meeting in the Park, to which\nmany of them would probably have come armed; the Government made\nmilitary preparations to resist the attempt, and something very serious\nseemed impending. At this crisis I really believe that I was the means\nof preventing much mischief. I had in my place in Parliament taken the\nside of the working men, and strongly censured the conduct of the\nGovernment. I was invited, with several other Radical members, to a\nconference with the leading members of the Council of the Reform League;\nand the task fell chiefly upon myself, of persuading them to give up the\nHyde Park project, and hold their meeting elsewhere. It was not Mr.\nBeales and Colonel Dickson who needed persuading; on the contrary, it\nwas evident that these gentlemen had already exerted their influence in\nthe same direction, thus far without success. It was the working men who\nheld out, and so bent were they on their original scheme, that I was\nobliged to have recourse to _les grands moyens_. I told them that a\nproceeding which would certainly produce a collision with the military,\ncould only be justifiable on two conditions: if the position of affairs\nhad become such that a revolution was desirable, and if they thought\nthemselves able to accomplish one. To this argument, after considerable\ndiscussion, they at last yielded: and I was able to inform Mr. Walpole\nthat their intention was given up. I shall never forget the depth of his\nrelief or the warmth of his expressions of gratitude. After the working\nmen had conceded so much to me, I felt bound to comply with their\nrequest that I would attend and speak at their meeting at the\nAgricultural Hall; the only meeting called by the Reform League which I\never attended. I had always declined being a member of the League, on\nthe avowed ground that I did not agree in its programme of manhood\nsuffrage and the ballot: from the ballot I dissented entirely; and I\ncould not consent to hoist the flag of manhood suffrage, even on the\nassurance that the exclusion of women was not intended to be implied;\nsince if one goes beyond what can be immediately carried, and professes\nto take one's stand on a principle, one should go the whole length of\nthe principle. I have entered thus particularly into this matter because\nmy conduct on this occasion gave great displeasure to the Tory and\nTory-Liberal press, who have charged me ever since with having shown\nmyself, in the trials of public life, intemperate and passionate. I do\nnot know what they expected from me; but they had reason to be thankful\nto me if they knew from what I had, in all probability preserved them.\nAnd I do not believe it could have been done, at that particular\njuncture, by any one else. No other person, I believe, had at that\nmoment the necessary influence for restraining the working classes,\nexcept Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Bright, neither of whom was available: Mr.\nGladstone, for obvious reasons; Mr. Bright because he was out of town.\n\nWhen, some time later, the Tory Government brought in a bill to prevent\npublic meetings in the Parks, I not only spoke strongly in opposition to\nit, but formed one of a number of advanced Liberals, who, aided by the\nvery late period of the session, succeeded in defeating the Bill by what\nis called talking it out. It has not since been renewed.\n\nOn Irish affairs also I felt bound to take a decided part. I was one of\nthe foremost in the deputation of Members of Parliament who prevailed on\nLord Derby to spare the life of the condemned Fenian insurgent, General\nBurke. The Church question was so vigorously handled by the leaders of\nthe party, in the session of 1868, as to require no more from me than an\nemphatic adhesion: but the land question was by no means in so advanced\na position; the superstitions of landlordism had up to that time been\nlittle challenged, especially in Parliament, and the backward state of\nthe question, so far as concerned the Parliamentary mind, was evidenced\nby the extremely mild measure brought in by Lord Russell's government in\n1866, which nevertheless could not be carried. On that bill I delivered\none of my most careful speeches, in which I attempted to lay down some\nof the principles of the subject, in a manner calculated less to\nstimulate friends, than to conciliate and convince opponents. The\nengrossing subject of Parliamentary Reform prevented either this bill,\nor one of a similar character brought in by Lord Derby's Government,\nfrom being carried through. They never got beyond the second reading.\nMeanwhile the signs of Irish disaffection had become much more decided;\nthe demand for complete separation between the two countries had assumed\na menacing aspect, and there were few who did not feel that if there was\nstill any chance of reconciling Ireland to the British connection, it\ncould only be by the adoption of much more thorough reforms in the\nterritorial and social relations of the country, than had yet been\ncontemplated. The time seemed to me to have come when it would be useful\nto speak out my whole mind; and the result was my pamphlet _England and\nIreland_, which was written in the winter of 1867, and published shortly\nbefore the commencement of the session of 1868. The leading features of\nthe pamphlet were, on the one hand, an argument to show the\nundesirableness, for Ireland as well as England, of separation between\nthe countries, and on the other, a proposal for settling the land\nquestion by giving to the existing tenants a permanent tenure, at a\nfixed rent, to be assessed after due inquiry by the State.\n\nThe pamphlet was not popular, except in Ireland, as I did not expect it\nto be. But, if no measure short of that which I proposed would do full\njustice to Ireland, or afford a prospect of conciliating the mass of the\nIrish people, the duty of proposing it was imperative; while if, on the\nother hand, there was any intermediate course which had a claim to a\ntrial, I well knew that to propose something which would be called\nextreme, was the true way not to impede but to facilitate a more\nmoderate experiment. It is most improbable that a measure conceding so\nmuch to the tenantry as Mr. Gladstone's Irish Land Bill, would have been\nproposed by a Government, or could have been carried through Parliament,\nunless the British public had been led to perceive that a case might be\nmade, and perhaps a party formed, for a measure considerably stronger.\nIt is the character of the British people, or at least of the higher and\nmiddle classes who pass muster for the British people, that to induce\nthem to approve of any change, it is necessary that they should look\nupon it as a middle course: they think every proposal extreme and\nviolent unless they hear of some other proposal going still farther,\nupon which their antipathy to extreme views may discharge itself. So it\nproved in the present instance; my proposal was condemned, but any\nscheme for Irish Land reform short of mine, came to be thought moderate\nby comparison. I may observe that the attacks made on my plan usually\ngave a very incorrect idea of its nature. It was usually discussed as a\nproposal that the State should buy up the land and become the universal\nlandlord; though in fact it only offered to each individual landlord\nthis as an alternative, if he liked better to sell his estate than to\nretain it on the new conditions; and I fully anticipated that most\nlandlords would continue to prefer the position of landowners to that of\nGovernment annuitants, and would retain their existing relation to their\ntenants, often on more indulgent terms than the full rents on which the\ncompensation to be given them by Government would have been based. This\nand many other explanations I gave in a speech on Ireland, in the debate\non Mr. Maguire's Resolution, early in the session of 1868. A corrected\nreport of this speech, together with my speech on Mr. Fortescue's Bill,\nhas been published (not by me, but with my permission) in Ireland.\n\nAnother public duty, of a most serious kind, it was my lot to have to\nperform, both in and out of Parliament, during these years. A\ndisturbance in Jamaica, provoked in the first instance by injustice, and\nexaggerated by rage and panic into a premeditated rebellion, had been\nthe motive or excuse for taking hundreds of innocent lives by military\nviolence, or by sentence of what were called courts-martial, continuing\nfor weeks after the brief disturbance had been put down; with many added\natrocities of destruction of property logging women as well as men, and\na general display of the brutal recklessness which usually prevails when\nfire and sword are let loose. The perpetrators of those deeds were\ndefended and applauded in England by the same kind of people who had so\nlong upheld negro slavery: and it seemed at first as if the British\nnation was about to incur the disgrace of letting pass without even a\nprotest, excesses of authority as revolting as any of those for which,\nwhen perpetrated by the instruments of other governments, Englishmen can\nhardly find terms sufficient to express their abhorrence. After a short\ntime, however, an indignant feeling was roused: a voluntary Association\nformed itself under the name of the Jamaica Committee, to take such\ndeliberation and action as the case might admit of, and adhesions poured\nin from all parts of the country. I was abroad at the time, but I sent\nin my name to the Committee as soon as I heard of it, and took an active\npart in the proceedings from the time of my return. There was much more\nat stake than only justice to the negroes, imperative as was that\nconsideration. The question was, whether the British dependencies, and\neventually, perhaps, Great Britain itself, were to be under the\ngovernment of law, or of military licence; whether the lives and persons\nof British subjects are at the mercy of any two or three officers\nhowever raw and inexperienced or reckless and brutal, whom a\npanic-stricken Governor, or other functionary, may assume the right to\nconstitute into a so-called court-martial. This question could only be\ndecided by an appeal to the tribunals; and such an appeal the Committee\ndetermined to make. Their determination led to a change in the\nchairmanship of the Committee, as the chairman, Mr. Charles Buxton,\nthought it not unjust indeed, but inexpedient, to prosecute Governor\nEyre and his principal subordinates in a criminal court: but a\nnumerously attended general meeting of the Association having decided\nthis point against him, Mr. Buxton withdrew from the Committee, though\ncontinuing to work in the cause, and I was, quite unexpectedly on my own\npart, proposed and elected chairman. It became, in consequence, my duty\nto represent the Committee in the House of Commons, sometimes by putting\nquestions to the Government, sometimes as the recipient of questions,\nmore or less provocative, addressed by individual members to myself; but\nespecially as speaker in the important debate originated in the session\nof 1866, by Mr. Buxton: and the speech I then delivered is that which I\nshould probably select as the best of my speeches in Parliament.[10] For\nmore than two years we carried on the combat, trying every avenue\nlegally open to us, to the Courts of Criminal Justice. A bench of\nmagistrates in one of the most Tory counties in England dismissed our\ncase: we were more successful before the magistrates at Bow Street;\nwhich gave an opportunity to the Lord Chief Justice of the Queen's\nBench, Sir Alexander Cockburn, for delivering his celebrated charge,\nwhich settled the law of the question in favour of liberty, as far as it\nis in the power of a judge's charge to settle it. There, however, our\nsuccess ended, for the Old Bailey Grand jury by throwing out our bill\nprevented the case from coming to trial. It was clear that to bring\nEnglish functionaries to the bar of a criminal court for abuses of power\ncommitted against negroes and mulattoes was not a popular proceeding\nwith the English middle classes. We had, however, redeemed, so far as\nlay in us, the character of our country, by showing that there was at\nany rate a body of persons determined to use all the means which the law\nafforded to obtain justice for the injured. We had elicited from the\nhighest criminal judge in the nation an authoritative declaration that\nthe law was what we maintained it to be; and we had given an emphatic\nwarning to those who might be tempted to similar guilt hereafter, that,\nthough they might escape the actual sentence of a criminal tribunal,\nthey were not safe against being put to some trouble and expense in\norder to avoid it. Colonial governors and other persons in authority,\nwill have a considerable motive to stop short of such extremities in\nfuture.\n\nAs a matter of curiosity I kept some specimens of the abusive letters,\nalmost all of them anonymous, which I received while these proceedings\nwere going on. They are evidence of the sympathy felt with the\nbrutalities in Jamaica by the brutal part of the population at home.\nThey graduated from coarse jokes, verbal and pictorial, up to threats of\nassassination.\n\nAmong other matters of importance in which I took an active part, but\nwhich excited little interest in the public, two deserve particular\nmention. I joined with several other independent Liberals in defeating\nan Extradition Bill introduced at the very end of the session of 1866,\nand by which, though surrender avowedly for political offences was not\nauthorized, political refugees, if charged by a foreign Government with\nacts which are necessarily incident to all attempts at insurrection,\nwould have been surrendered to be dealt with by the criminal courts of\nthe Government against which they had rebelled: thus making the British\nGovernment an accomplice in the vengeance of foreign despotisms. The\ndefeat of this proposal led to the appointment of a Select Committee (in\nwhich I was included), to examine and report on the whole subject of\nExtradition Treaties; and the result was, that in the Extradition Act\nwhich passed through Parliament after I had ceased to be a member,\nopportunity is given to any one whose extradition is demanded, of being\nheard before an English court of justice to prove that the offence with\nwhich he is charged, is really political. The cause of European freedom\nhas thus been saved from a serious misfortune, and our own country from\na great iniquity. The other subject to be mentioned is the fight kept up\nby a body of advanced Liberals in the session of 1868, on the Bribery\nBill of Mr. Disraeli's Government, in which I took a very active part. I\nhad taken counsel with several of those who had applied their minds most\ncarefully to the details of the subject--Mr. W.D. Christie, Serjeant\nPulling, Mr. Chadwick--as well as bestowed much thought of my own, for\nthe purpose of framing such amendments and additional clauses as might\nmake the Bill really effective against the numerous modes of corruption,\ndirect and indirect, which might otherwise, as there was much reason to\nfear, be increased instead of diminished by the Reform Act. We also\naimed at engrafting on the Bill, measures for diminishing the\nmischievous burden of what are called the legitimate expenses of\nelections. Among our many amendments, was that of Mr. Fawcett for making\nthe returning officer's expenses a charge on the rates, instead of on\nthe candidates; another was the prohibition of paid canvassers, and the\nlimitation of paid agents to one for each candidate; a third was the\nextension of the precautions and penalties against bribery to municipal\nelections, which are well known to be not only a preparatory school for\nbribery at parliamentary elections, but an habitual cover for it. The\nConservative Government, however, when once they had carried the leading\nprovision of their Bill (for which I voted and spoke), the transfer of\nthe jurisdiction in elections from the House of Commons to the Judges,\nmade a determined resistance to all other improvements; and after one of\nour most important proposals, that of Mr. Fawcett, had actually obtained\na majority, they summoned the strength of their party and threw out the\nclause in a subsequent stage. The Liberal party in the House was greatly\ndishonoured by the conduct of many of its members in giving no help\nwhatever to this attempt to secure the necessary conditions of an honest\nrepresentation of the people. With their large majority in the House\nthey could have carried all the amendments, or better ones if they had\nbetter to propose. But it was late in the session; members were eager to\nset about their preparations for the impending General Election: and\nwhile some (such as Sir Robert Anstruther) honourably remained at their\npost, though rival candidates were already canvassing their constituency,\na much greater number placed their electioneering interests before their\npublic duty. Many Liberals also looked with indifference on legislation\nagainst bribery, thinking that it merely diverted public interest from\nthe Ballot, which they considered--very mistakenly as I expect it will\nturn out--to be a sufficient, and the only, remedy. From these causes our\nfight, though kept up with great vigour for several nights, was wholly\nunsuccessful, and the practices which we sought to render more difficult,\nprevailed more widely than ever in the first General Election held under\nthe new electoral law.\n\nIn the general debates on Mr. Disraeli's Reform Bill, my participation\nwas limited to the one speech already mentioned; but I made the Bill an\noccasion for bringing the two great improvements which remain to be made\nin Representative Government, formally before the House and the nation.\nOne of them was Personal, or, as it is called with equal propriety,\nProportional Representation. I brought this under the consideration of\nthe House, by an expository and argumentative speech on Mr. Hare's plan;\nand subsequently I was active in support of the very imperfect\nsubstitute for that plan, which, in a small number of constituencies,\nParliament was induced to adopt. This poor makeshift had scarcely any\nrecommendation, except that it was a partial recognition of the evil\nwhich it did so little to remedy. As such, however, it was attacked by\nthe same fallacies, and required to be defended on the same principles,\nas a really good measure; and its adoption in a few Parliamentary\nelections, as well as the subsequent introduction of what is called the\nCumulative Vote in the elections for the London School Board, have had\nthe good effect of converting the equal claim of all electors to a\nproportional share in the representation, from a subject of merely\nspeculative discussion, into a question of practical politics, much\nsooner than would otherwise have been the case.\n\nThis assertion of my opinions on Personal Representation cannot be\ncredited with any considerable or visible amount of practical result. It\nwas otherwise with the other motion which I made in the form of an\namendment to the Reform Bill, and which was by far the most important,\nperhaps the only really important, public service I performed in the\ncapacity of a Member of Parliament: a motion to strike out the words\nwhich were understood to limit the electoral franchise to males, and\nthereby to admit to the suffrage all women who, as householders or\notherwise, possessed the qualification required of male electors. For\nwomen not to make their claim to the suffrage, at the time when the\nelective franchise was being largely extended, would have been to abjure\nthe claim altogether; and a movement on the subject was begun in 1866,\nwhen I presented a petition for the suffrage, signed by a considerable\nnumber of distinguished women. But it was as yet uncertain whether the\nproposal would obtain more than a few stray votes in the House: and\nwhen, after a debate in which the speaker's on the contrary side were\nconspicuous by their feebleness, the votes recorded in favour of the\nmotion amounted to 73--made up by pairs and tellers to above 80--the\nsurprise was general, and the encouragement great: the greater, too,\nbecause one of those who voted for the motion was Mr. Bright, a fact\nwhich could only be attributed to the impression made on him by the\ndebate, as he had previously made no secret of his nonconcurrence in the\nproposal. [The time appeared to my daughter, Miss Helen Taylor, to have\ncome for forming a Society for the extension of the suffrage to women.\nThe existence of the Society is due to my daughter's initiative; its\nconstitution was planned entirely by her, and she was the soul of the\nmovement during its first years, though delicate health and\nsuperabundant occupation made her decline to be a member of the\nExecutive Committee. Many distinguished members of parliament,\nprofessors, and others, and some of the most eminent women of whom the\ncountry can boast, became members of the Society, a large proportion\neither directly or indirectly through my daughter's influence, she\nhaving written the greater number, and all the best, of the letters by\nwhich adhesions was obtained, even when those letters bore my signature.\nIn two remarkable instances, those of Miss Nightingale and Miss Mary\nCarpenter, the reluctance those ladies had at first felt to come\nforward, (for it was not on their past difference of opinion) was\novercome by appeals written by my daughter though signed by me.\nAssociations for the same object were formed in various local centres,\nManchester, Edinburgh, Birmingham, Bristol, and Glasgow; and others\nwhich have done much valuable work for the cause. All the Societies take\nthe title of branches of the National Society for Women's Suffrage; but\neach has its own governing body, and acts in complete independence of\nthe others.]\n\nI believe I have mentioned all that is worth remembering of my\nproceedings in the House. But their enumeration, even if complete, would\ngive but an inadequate idea of my occupations during that period, and\nespecially of the time taken up by correspondence. For many years before\nmy election to Parliament, I had been continually receiving letters from\nstrangers, mostly addressed to me as a writer on philosophy, and either\npropounding difficulties or communicating thoughts on subjects connected\nwith logic or political economy. In common, I suppose, with all who are\nknown as political economists, I was a recipient of all the shallow\ntheories and absurd proposals by which people are perpetually\nendeavouring to show the way to universal wealth and happiness by some\nartful reorganization of the currency. When there were signs of\nsufficient intelligence in the writers to make it worth while attempting\nto put them right, I took the trouble to point out their errors, until\nthe growth of my correspondence made it necessary to dismiss such\npersons with very brief answers. Many, however, of the communications I\nreceived were more worthy of attention than these, and in some,\noversights of detail were pointed out in my writings, which I was thus\nenabled to correct. Correspondence of this sort naturally multiplied\nwith the multiplication of the subjects on which I wrote, especially\nthose of a metaphysical character. But when I became a member of\nParliament. I began to receive letters on private grievances and on\nevery imaginable subject that related to any kind of public affairs,\nhowever remote from my knowledge or pursuits. It was not my constituents\nin Westminster who laid this burthen on me: they kept with remarkable\nfidelity to the understanding on which I had consented to serve. I\nreceived, indeed, now and then an application from some ingenuous youth\nto procure for him a small government appointment; but these were few,\nand how simple and ignorant the writers were, was shown by the fact that\nthe applications came in about equally whichever party was in power. My\ninvariable answer was, that it was contrary to the principles on which I\nwas elected to ask favours of any Government. But, on the whole, hardly\nany part of the country gave me less trouble than my own constituents.\nThe general mass of correspondence, however, swelled into an oppressive\nburthen.\n\n[At this time, and thenceforth, a great proportion of all my letters\n(including many which found their way into the newspapers) were not\nwritten by me but by my daughter; at first merely from her willingness\nto help in disposing of a mass of letters greater than I could get\nthrough without assistance, but afterwards because I thought the letters\nshe wrote superior to mine, and more so in proportion to the difficulty\nand importance of the occasion. Even those which I wrote myself were\ngenerally much improved by her, as is also the case with all the more\nrecent of my prepared speeches, of which, and of some of my published\nwritings, not a few passages, and those the most successful, were hers.]\n\nWhile I remained in Parliament my work as an author was unavoidably\nlimited to the recess. During that time I wrote (besides the pamphlet on\nIreland, already mentioned), the Essay on Plato, published in the\n_Edinburgh Review_, and reprinted in the third volume of _Dissertations\nand Discussions_; and the address which, conformably to custom, I\ndelivered to the University of St. Andrew's, whose students had done me\nthe honour of electing me to the office of Rector. In this Discourse I\ngave expression to many thoughts and opinions which had been\naccumulating in me through life, respecting the various studies which\nbelong to a liberal education, their uses and influences, and the mode\nin which they should be pursued to render their influences most\nbeneficial. The position taken up, vindicating the high educational\nvalue alike of the old classic and the new scientific studies, on even\nstronger grounds than are urged by most of their advocates, and\ninsisting that it is only the stupid inefficiency of the usual teaching\nwhich makes those studies be regarded as competitors instead of allies,\nwas, I think, calculated, not only to aid and stimulate the improvement\nwhich has happily commenced in the national institutions for higher\neducation, but to diffuse juster ideas than we often find, even in\nhighly educated men, on the conditions of the highest mental\ncultivation.\n\nDuring this period also I commenced (and completed soon after I had left\nParliament) the performance of a duty to philosophy and to the memory of\nmy father, by preparing and publishing an edition of the _Analysis of\nthe Phenomena of the Human Mind_, with notes bringing up the doctrines\nof that admirable book to the latest improvements in science and in\nspeculation. This was a joint undertaking: the psychological notes being\nfurnished in about equal proportions by Mr. Bain and myself, while Mr.\nGrote supplied some valuable contributions on points in the history of\nphilosophy incidentally raised, and Dr. Andrew Findlater supplied the\ndeficiencies in the book which had been occasioned by the imperfect\nphilological knowledge of the time when it was written. Having been\noriginally published at a time when the current of metaphysical\nspeculation ran in a quite opposite direction to the psychology of\nExperience and Association, the _Analysis_ had not obtained the amount\nof immediate success which it deserved, though it had made a deep\nimpression on many individual minds, and had largely contributed,\nthrough those minds, to create that more favourable atmosphere for the\nAssociation Psychology of which we now have the benefit. Admirably\nadapted for a class book of the Experience Metaphysics, it only required\nto be enriched, and in some cases corrected, by the results of more\nrecent labours in the same school of thought, to stand, as it now does,\nin company with Mr. Bain's treatises, at the head of the systematic\nworks on Analytic psychology.\n\nIn the autumn of 1868 the Parliament which passed the Reform Act was\ndissolved, and at the new election for Westminster I was thrown out; not\nto my surprise, nor, I believe, to that of my principal supporters,\nthough in the few days preceding the election they had become more\nsanguine than before. That I should not have been elected at all would\nnot have required any explanation; what excites curiosity is that I\nshould have been elected the first time, or, having been elected then,\nshould have been defeated afterwards. But the efforts made to defeat me\nwere far greater on the second occasion than on the first. For one\nthing, the Tory Government was now struggling for existence, and success\nin any contest was of more importance to them. Then, too, all persons of\nTory feelings were far more embittered against me individually than on\nthe previous occasion; many who had at first been either favourable or\nindifferent, were vehemently opposed to my re-election. As I had shown\nin my political writings that I was aware of the weak points in\ndemocratic opinions, some Conservatives, it seems, had not been without\nhopes of finding me an opponent of democracy: as I was able to see the\nConservative side of the question, they presumed that, like them, I\ncould not see any other side. Yet if they had really read my writings,\nthey would have known that after giving full weight to all that appeared\nto me well grounded in the arguments against democracy, I unhesitatingly\ndecided in its favour, while recommending that it should be accompanied\nby such institutions as were consistent with its principle and\ncalculated to ward off its inconveniences: one of the chief of these\nremedies being Proportional Representation, on which scarcely any of the\nConservatives gave me any support. Some Tory expectations appear to have\nbeen founded on the approbation I had expressed of plural voting, under\ncertain conditions: and it has been surmised that the suggestion of this\nsort made in one of the resolutions which Mr. Disraeli introduced into\nthe House preparatory to his Reform Bill (a suggestion which meeting\nwith no favour, he did not press), may have been occasioned by what I\nhad written on the point: but if so, it was forgotten that I had made it\nan express condition that the privilege of a plurality of votes should\nbe annexed to education, not to property, and even so, had approved of\nit only on the supposition of universal suffrage. How utterly\ninadmissible such plural voting would be under the suffrage given by the\npresent Reform Act, is proved, to any who could otherwise doubt it, by\nthe very small weight which the working classes are found to possess in\nelections, even under the law which gives no more votes to any one\nelector than to any other.\n\nWhile I thus was far more obnoxious to the Tory interest, and to many\nConservative Liberals than I had formerly been, the course I pursued in\nParliament had by no means been such as to make Liberals generally at\nall enthusiastic in my support. It has already been mentioned, how large\na proportion of my prominent appearances had been on questions on which\nI differed from most of the Liberal party, or about which they cared\nlittle, and how few occasions there had been on which the line I took\nwas such as could lead them to attach any great value to me as an organ\nof their opinions. I had moreover done things which had excited, in many\nminds, a personal prejudice against me. Many were offended by what they\ncalled the persecution of Mr. Eyre: and still greater offence was taken\nat my sending a subscription to the election expenses of Mr. Bradlaugh.\nHaving refused to be at any expense for my own election, and having had\nall its expenses defrayed by others, I felt under a peculiar obligation\nto subscribe in my turn where funds were deficient for candidates whose\nelection was desirable. I accordingly sent subscriptions to nearly all\nthe working class candidates, and among others to Mr. Bradlaugh. He had\nthe support of the working classes; having heard him speak, I knew him\nto be a man of ability and he had proved that he was the reverse of a\ndemagogue, by placing himself in strong opposition to the prevailing\nopinion of the democratic party on two such important subjects as\nMalthusianism and Personal Representation. Men of this sort, who, while\nsharing the democratic feelings of the working classes, judged political\nquestions for themselves, and had courage to assert their individual\nconvictions against popular opposition, were needed, as it seemed to me,\nin Parliament, and I did not think that Mr. Bradlaugh's anti-religious\nopinions (even though he had been intemperate in the expression of them)\nought to exclude him. In subscribing, however, to his election, I did\nwhat would have been highly imprudent if I had been at liberty to\nconsider only the interests of my own re-election; and, as might be\nexpected, the utmost possible use, both fair and unfair, was made of\nthis act of mine to stir up the electors of Westminster against me. To\nthese various causes, combined with an unscrupulous use of the usual\npecuniary and other influences on the side of my Tory competitor, while\nnone were used on my side, it is to be ascribed that I failed at my\nsecond election after having succeeded at the first. No sooner was the\nresult of the election known than I received three or four invitations\nto become a candidate for other constituencies, chiefly counties; but\neven if success could have been expected, and this without expense, I\nwas not disposed to deny myself the relief of returning to private life.\nI had no cause to feel humiliated at my rejection by the electors; and\nif I had, the feeling would have been far outweighed by the numerous\nexpressions of regret which I received from all sorts of persons and\nplaces, and in a most marked degree from those members of the liberal\nparty in Parliament, with whom I had been accustomed to act.\n\nSince that time little has occurred which there is need to commemorate\nin this place. I returned to my old pursuits and to the enjoyment of a\ncountry life in the south of Europe, alternating twice a year with a\nresidence of some weeks or months in the neighbourhood of London. I have\nwritten various articles in periodicals (chiefly in my friend Mr.\nMorley's _Fortnightly Review_), have made a small number of speeches on\npublic occasions, especially at the meetings of the Women's Suffrage\nSociety, have published the _Subjection of Women_, written some years\nbefore, with some additions [by my daughter and myself,] and have\ncommenced the preparation of matter for future books, of which it will\nbe time to speak more particularly if I live to finish them. Here,\ntherefore, for the present, this memoir may close.\n\n\n\nNOTES:\n\n[1]In a subsequent stage of boyhood, when these exercises had ceased\nto be compulsory, like most youthful writers I wrote tragedies; under\nthe inspiration not so much of Shakspeare as of Joanna Baillie, whose\n_Constantine Paleologus_ in particular appeared to me one of the most\nglorious of human compositions. I still think it one of the best dramas\nof the last two centuries.\n\n[2] The continuation of this article in the second number of the\n_Review_ was written by me under my father's eye, and (except as\npractice in composition, in which respect it was, to me, more useful\nthan anything else I ever wrote) was of little or no value.\n\n[3] Written about 1861.\n\n[4] The steps in my mental growth for which I was indebted to her were\nfar from being those which a person wholly uninformed on the subject\nwould probably suspect. It might be supposed, for instance, that my\nstrong convictions on the complete equality in all legal, political,\nsocial, and domestic relations, which ought to exist between men and\nwomen, may have been adopted or learnt from her. This was so far from\nbeing the fact, that those convictions were among the earliest results\nof the application of my mind to political subjects, and the strength\nwith which I held them was, as I believe, more than anything else, the\noriginating cause of the interest she felt in me. What is true is that,\nuntil I knew her, the opinion was in my mind little more than an\nabstract principle. I saw no more reason why women should be held in\nlegal subjection to other people, than why men should. I was certain\nthat their interests required fully as much protection as those of men,\nand were quite as little likely to obtain it without an equal voice in\nmaking the laws by which they were bound. But that perception of the\nvast practical bearings of women's disabilities which found expression\nin the book on the _Subjection of Women_ was acquired mainly through her\nteaching. But for her rare knowledge of human nature and comprehension\nof moral and social influences, though I should doubtless have held my\npresent opinions, I should have had a very insufficient perception of\nthe mode in which the consequences of the inferior position of women\nintertwine themselves with all the evils of existing society and with\nall the difficulties of human improvement. I am indeed painfully\nconscious of how much of her best thoughts on the subject I have failed\nto reproduce, and how greatly that little treatise falls short of what\nit would have been if she had put on paper her entire mind on this\nquestion, or had lived to revise and improve, as she certainly would\nhave done, my imperfect statement of the case.\n\n[5] The only person from whom I received any direct assistence in the\npreparation of the _System of Logic_ was Mr. Bain, since so justly\ncelebrated for his philosophical writings. He went carefully through the\nmanuscript before it was sent to the press, and enriched it with a great\nnumber of additional examples and illustrations from science; many of\nwhich, as well as some detached remarks of his own in confirmation of my\nlogical views, I inserted nearly in his own words.\n\n[6] A few dedicatory lines acknowledging what the book owed to her, were\nprefixed to some of the presentation copies of the _Political Economy_\non iets first publication. Her dislike of publicity alone prevented\ntheir insertion in the other copies of the work. During the years which\nintervened between the commencement of my married life and the\ncatastrophe which closed it, the principal occurrences of my outward\nexistence (unless I count as such a first attack of the family disease,\nand a consequent journey of more than six months for the recovery of\nhealth, in Italy, Sicily, and Greece) had reference to my position in\nthe India House. In 1856 I was promoted to the rank of chief of the\noffice in which I had served for upwards of thirty-three years. The\nappointment, that of Examiner of India Correspondence, was the highest,\nnext to that of Secretary, in the East India Company's home service,\ninvolving the general superintendence of all the correspondence with the\nIndian Governments, except the military, naval, and financial. I held\nthis office as long as it continued to exist, being a little more than\ntwo years; after which it pleased Parliament, in other words Lord\nPalmerston, to put an end to the East india Company as a branch of the\ngovernment of India under the Crown, and convert the administration of\nthat country into a thing to be scrambled for by the second and third\nclass of English parliamentary politicians. I was the chief manager of\nthe resistance which the Company made to their own political extinction,\nand to the letters and petitions I wrote for them, and the concluding\nchapter of my treatise on Representative Government, I must refer for my\nopinions on the folly and mischief of this ill-considered change.\nPersonally I considered myself a gainer by it, as I had given enough of\nmy life to india, and was not unwilling to retire on the liberal\ncompensation granted. After the change was consummated, Lord Stanley,\nthe first Secretary of State for India, made me the honourable offer of\na seat in the Council, and the proposal was subsequently renewed by the\nCouncil itself, on the first occasion of its having to supply a vacancy\nin its own body. But the conditions of Indian government under the new\nsystem made me anticipate nothing but useless vexation and waste of\neffort from any participation in it: and nothing that has since happened\nhas had any tendency to make me regret my refusal.\n\n[7] In 1869.\n\n[8]The saying of this true hero, after his capture, that he was worth\nmore for hanging than any other purpose, reminds one, by its combination\nof wit, wisdom, and self-devotion, of Sir Thomas More.\n\n[9] The first was in answer to Mr. Lowe's reply to Mr. Bright on the\nCattle Plague Bill, and was thought at the time to have helped to get\nrid of a provision in the Government measure which would have given to\nlandholders a second indemnity, after they had already been once\nindemnified for the loss of some of their cattle by the increased\nselling price of the remainder.\n\n[10] Among the most active members of the Committee were Mr. P.A.\nTaylor, M.P., always faithful and energetic in every assertion of the\nprinciples of liberty; Mr. Goldwin Smith, Mr. Frederic Harrison, Mr.\nSlack, Mr. Chamerovzow, Mr. Shaen, and Mr. Chesson, the Honorary\nSecretary of the Association.","title":"Autobiography","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":75204}