{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25788/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25788","id":"gutenberg_25788","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25788","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Mill, James, 1773-1836","Philosophers -- England","Philosophy, English -- 18th century","Philosophy, English -- 19th century","Utilitarianism -- Great Britain -- History"],"text":"E-text prepared by Stacy Brown, Thierry Alberto, Henry Craig, and the\nProject Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n(http://www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nTHE ENGLISH UTILITARIANS\n\nby\n\nLESLIE STEPHEN\n\nIn Three Volumes\n\nVOL. II\n\nJAMES MILL\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon\nDuckworth And Co.\n3 Henrietta Street, W.C.\n1900\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nJAMES MILL\n\n                                      PAGE\n\n  I. Early Life,                         1\n\n II. Bentham's Lieutenant,               7\n\nIII. Leader of the Utilitarians,        25\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nREFORM MOVEMENTS\n\n  I. Political Change,                  41\n\n II. Law Reform,                        47\n\nIII. Economic Reform,                   51\n\n IV. Church Reform,                     57\n\n  V. Sinister Interests,                62\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nPOLITICAL THEORY\n\n  I. Mill on Government,                74\n\n II. Whiggism,                          98\n\nIII. Conservatism,                     109\n\n IV. Socialism,                        119\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nMALTHUS\n\n  I. Malthus's Starting-point,         137\n\n II. The Ratios,                       147\n\nIII. Moral Restraint,                  156\n\n IV. Social Remedies,                  165\n\n  V. Political Application,            174\n\n VI. Rent,                             181\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nRICARDO\n\n  I. Ricardo's Starting-point,         186\n\n II. The Distribution Problem,         195\n\nIII. Value and Labour,                 204\n\n IV. The Classical Political Economy,  216\n\n  V. The Ricardians,                   226\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nECONOMIC HERETICS\n\n  I. The Malthusian Controversy,       238\n\n II. Socialism,                        259\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nPSYCHOLOGY\n\n  I. Thomas Brown,                     267\n\n II. James Mill's _Analysis_,          287\n\nIII. James Mill's Ethics,              312\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nRELIGION\n\n  I. Philip Beauchamp,                 338\n\n II. Contemporary Thought,             361\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nJAMES MILL\n\n\nI. EARLY LIFE\n\nBentham's mantle fell upon James Mill.[1] Mill expounded in the\ntersest form the doctrines which in Bentham's hands spread into\nendless ramifications and lost themselves in minute details. Mill\nbecame the leader of Bentham's bodyguard; or, rather, the mediator\nbetween the prophet in his 'hermitage' and the missionaries who were\nactively engaged on the hustings and in committee-rooms. The special\ncharacteristics of English Utilitarianism in the period of its\ngreatest activity were thus more affected by Mill than by any other\nleader of opinion.\n\nJames Mill was one of the countless Scots who, having been trained at\nhome in strict frugality and stern Puritanic principles, have fought\ntheir way to success in England. He was born 6th April 1773 in the\nparish of Logie Pert, Forfarshire. His father, also named James Mill,\nwas a village shoemaker, employing two or three journeymen when at\nthe height of his prosperity. His mother, Isabel Fenton, daughter of a\nfarmer, had been a servant in Edinburgh. Her family had some claims to\nsuperior gentility; she was fastidious, delicate in frame, and accused\nof pride by her neighbours. She resolved to bring up James, her eldest\nson, to be a gentleman, which practically meant to be a minister. He\nprobably showed early promise of intellectual superiority. He received\nthe usual training at the parish school, and was then sent to the\nMontrose Academy, where he was the school-fellow and friend of a\nyounger lad, Joseph Hume (1777-1855), afterwards his political ally.\nHe boarded with a Montrose shopkeeper for 2s. 6d. a week, and remained\nat the Academy till he was seventeen. He was never put to work in his\nfather's shop, and devoted himself entirely to study. The usual age\nfor beginning to attend a Scottish university was thirteen or\nfourteen; and it would have been the normal course for a lad in Mill's\nposition to be sent at that age to Aberdeen. Mill's education was\nprolonged by a connection which was of great service to him. Sir John\nStuart (previously Belches), of Fettercairn House, in Mill's\nneighbourhood, had married Lady Jane Leslie, and was by her father of\nan only child, Wilhelmina. Lady Jane was given to charity, and had set\nup a fund to educate promising lads for the ministry. Mill was\nprobably recommended to her by the parish minister, as likely to do\ncredit to her patronage. He also acted as tutor to Wilhelmina, who\nafterwards became the object of Scott's early passion. Mill spent much\ntime at Fettercairn House, and appears to have won the warm regards\nboth of the Stuarts and of their daughter, who spoke of him\naffectionately 'with almost her last breath.'[2] The Stuarts passed\ntheir winters at Edinburgh, whither Mill accompanied them. He entered\nthe university in 1790, and seems to have applied himself chiefly to\nGreek and to philosophy. He became so good a Greek scholar that long\nafterwards (1818) he had some thoughts of standing for the Greek chair\nat Glasgow.[3] He was always a keen student of Plato. He read the\nordinary Scottish authorities, and attended the lectures of Dugald\nStewart. Besides reading Rousseau, he studied Massillon, probably with\na view to his future performances in the pulpit. Massillon might be\nsuggested to him by quotations in Adam Smith's _Moral Sentiments_.\nThere are few records of acquaintanceship with any of his\ndistinguished contemporaries, except the chemist Thomas Thomson, who\nbecame a lifelong friend. He probably made acquaintance with Brougham,\nand may have known Jeffrey; but he was not a member of the Speculative\nSociety, joined by most young men of promise.\n\nIn 1794 he began his course of divinity, and on 4th October 1798 was\nlicensed to preach. He lived in his father's house, where part of the\nfamily room was screened off to form a study for him. He delivered\nsome sermons, apparently with little success. He failed to obtain a\ncall from any parish; and there are vague reports of his acting as\ntutor in some families, and of a rebuff received at the table of the\nmarquis of Tweeddale, father of one of his pupils, which made him\nresolve to seek for independence by a different career.\n\nIn 1802 Mill went to London in company with Sir John Stuart, who was\nabout to take his seat in parliament. Stuart procured admission for\nhim to the gallery of the House of Commons, where he attended many\ndebates, and acquired an interest in politics. His ambition, however,\ndepended upon his pen; and at first, it would seem, he was not more\nparticular than other journalists as to the politics of the papers to\nwhich he contributed. He had obtained a testimonial from Thomson, on\nthe strength of which he introduced himself to John Gifford, editor of\nthe _Anti-Jacobin Review_.[4] This was a monthly magazine, which had\nadopted the name and politics of the deceased _Anti-Jacobin_, edited\nby William Gifford. Mill obtained employment, and wrote articles\nimplying an interest in the philosophy, and especially in the\npolitical economy, of the time. It is noteworthy, considering his\nlater principles, that he should at this time have taken part in a\nstrong Tory organ. He wrote a pamphlet in 1804 (the first publication\nunder his name) to prove the impolicy of a bounty upon the exportation\nof grain; and in 1807 replied in _Commerce Defended_ to William\nSpence's _Britain independent of Commerce_. Meanwhile he had found\nemployment of a more regular kind. He had formed a connection with a\nbookseller named Baldwin, for whom he undertook to help in rewriting a\nbook called _Nature Delineated_. This scheme was changed for a\nperiodical called the _Literary Journal_, which started at the\nbeginning of 1803, and lived through four years with Mill as editor.\nAt the same time apparently he edited the _St. James's Chronicle_,\nalso belonging to Baldwin, which had no very definite political\ncolour. The _Journal_ professed to give a systematic survey of\nliterary, scientific, and philosophical publications. For the\nscientific part Mill was helped by Thomson. His own contributions show\nthat, although clearly a rationalist, he was still opposed to open\ninfidelity. A translation of Villers' _History of the Reformation_\nimplies similar tendencies. Other literary hack-work during this and\nthe next few years is vaguely indicated. Mill was making about L500 a\nyear or something more during his editorships, and thought himself\njustified in marrying. On 5th June 1805 he became the husband of\nHarriett Burrow, daughter of a widow who kept a private lunatic asylum\noriginally started by her husband. The Mills settled in a house in\nPentonville belonging to Mrs. Burrow, for which they paid L50 a year.\n\nThe money question soon became pressing. The editorships vanished, and\nto make an income by periodical writing was no easy task. His son\nobserves that nothing could be more opposed to his father's later\nprinciples than marrying and producing a large family under these\ncircumstances. Nine children were ultimately born, all of whom\nsurvived their father. The family in his old home were an additional\nburthen. His mother died before his departure from Scotland. His\nfather was paralysed, and having incautiously given security for a\nfriend, became bankrupt. His only brother, William, died soon\nafterwards, and his only sister, Mary, married one of her father's\njourneymen named Greig, and tried to carry on the business. The\nfather died about 1808, and the Greigs had a hard struggle, though two\nof the sons ultimately set up a business in Montrose. James Mill\nappears to have helped to support his father, whose debts he undertook\nto pay, and to have afterwards helped the Greigs. They thought, it\nseems, that he ought to have done more, but were not unlikely to\nexaggerate the resources of a man who was making his way in England.\nMill was resolute in doing his duty, but hardly likely to do it\ngraciously. At any rate, in the early years, it must have been a\nsevere strain to do anything.\n\nIn spite of all difficulties Mill, by strict frugality and unremitting\nenergy, managed to keep out of debt. In the end of 1806 he undertook\nthe history of British India. This was to be the great work which\nshould give him a name, and enable him to rise above the herd of\ncontemporary journalists. He calculated the time necessary for its\ncompletion at three years, but the years were to be more than trebled\nbefore the book was actually finished. At that period there were fewer\nfacilities than there could now be for making the necessary\nresearches: and we do not know what were the reasons which prompted\nthe selection of a subject of which he could have no first-hand\nknowledge. The book necessarily impeded other labours; and to the toil\nof writing Mill added the toil of superintending the education of his\nchildren. His struggle for some years was such as to require an\nextraordinary strain upon all his faculties. Mill, however, possessed\ngreat physical and mental vigour. He was muscular, well-made, and\nhandsome; he had marked powers of conversation, and made a strong\nimpression upon all with whom he came in contact. He gradually formed\nconnections which effectually determined his future career.\n\n\nII. BENTHAM'S LIEUTENANT\n\nThe most important influence in Mill's life was the friendship with\nBentham. This appears to have begun in 1808. Mill speedily became a\nvalued disciple. He used to walk from Pentonville to dine with Bentham\nin Queen's Square Place. Soon the elder man desired to have his new\nfriend nearer at hand. In 1810 Mill moved to the house in Bentham's\ngarden, which had once belonged to Milton; when this proved\nunsuitable, he was obliged to move to a more distant abode at Stoke\nNewington; but finally, in 1814, he settled in another house belonging\nto Bentham, 1 Queen's Square, close under the old gentleman's wing.\nHere for some years they lived in the closest intimacy. The Mills also\nstayed with Bentham in his country-houses at Barrow Green, and\nafterwards at Ford Abbey. The association was not without its\ntroubles. Bentham was fanciful, and Mill stern and rigid. No one,\nhowever, could be a more devoted disciple. The most curious\nillustration of their relations is a letter written to Bentham by\nMill, 19th September 1814, while they were both at Ford Abbey. Mill in\nthis declares himself to be a 'most faithful and fervent disciple' of\nthe truths which Bentham had the 'immortal honour' of propounding. He\nhad fancied himself to be his master's favourite disciple. No one is\nso completely of Bentham's way of thinking, or so qualified by\nposition for carrying on the propaganda. Now, however, Bentham showed\nthat he had taken umbrage at some part of Mill's behaviour. An open\nquarrel would bring discredit upon both sides, and upon their common\nbeliefs. The great dangers to friendship are pecuniary obligation and\ntoo close intimacy. Mill has made it a great purpose of his life to\navoid pecuniary obligation, though he took pride in receiving\nobligations from Bentham. He has confined himself to accepting\nBentham's house at a low rent, and allowing his family to live for\npart of the year at Bentham's expense. He now proposes so to arrange\nhis future life that they shall avoid an excessively close intimacy,\nfrom which, he thinks, had arisen the 'umbrage.' The letter, which is\nmanly and straightforward, led to a reconciliation, and for some years\nthe intercourse was as close as ever.[5]\n\nMill's unreserved adoption of Bentham's principles, and his resolution\nto devote his life to their propagation, implies a development of\nopinion. He had entirely dropped his theology. In the early years of\nhis London life, Mill had been only a rationalist. He had by this time\nbecome what would now be called an agnostic. He thought 'dogmatic\natheism' absurd, says J. S. Mill;[6] 'but he held that we can know\nnothing whatever as to the origin of the world.' The occasion of the\nchange, according to his family, was his intercourse with General\nMiranda, who was sitting at Bentham's feet about this time. J. S. Mill\nstates that the turning-point in his father's mind was the study of\nButler's _Analogy_. That book, he thought, as others have thought, was\nconclusive against the optimistic deism which it assails; but he\nthought also that the argument really destroyed Butler's own\nstanding-ground. The evils of the world are incompatible with the\ntheory of Almighty benevolence. The purely logical objection was\ncombined with an intense moral sentiment. Theological doctrines, he\nthought, were not only false, but brutal. His son had heard him say 'a\nhundred times' that men have attributed to their gods every trait of\nwickedness till the conception culminated in the Christian doctrine of\nhell. Mill still attended church services for some time after his\nmarriage, and the children were christened. But the eldest son did not\nremember the period of even partial conformity, and considered himself\nto have been brought up from the first without any religious belief.\nJames Mill had already taken up the uncompromising position congenial\nto his character, although the reticence which the whole party\nobserved prevented any open expression of his sentiments.\n\nMill's propaganda of Benthamism was for some time obscure. He helped\nto put together some of Bentham's writings, especially the book upon\nevidence. He was consulted in regard to all proposed publications,\nsuch as the pamphlet upon jury-packing, which Mill desired to publish\nin spite of Romilly's warning. Mill endeavoured also to disseminate\nthe true faith through various periodicals. He obtained admission to\nthe _Edinburgh Review_, probably through its chief contributor,\nBrougham. Neither Brougham nor Jeffrey was likely to commit the great\nWhig review to the support of a creed still militant and regarded with\ndistrust by the respectable. Mill contributed various articles from\n1808 to 1813, but chiefly upon topics outside of the political sphere.\nThe _Edinburgh Review_, as I have said, had taken a condescending\nnotice of Bentham in 1804. Mill tried to introduce a better tone into\nan article upon Bexon's _Code de la Legislation penale_, which he was\npermitted to publish in the number for October 1809. Knowing Jeffrey's\n'dislike of praise,' he tried to be on his guard, and to insinuate his\nmaster's doctrine without openly expressing his enthusiasm. Jeffrey,\nhowever, sadly mangled the review, struck out every mention but one of\nBentham, and there substituted words of his own for Mill's. Even as it\nwas, Brougham pronounced the praise of Bentham to be excessive.[7]\nMill continued to write for a time, partly, no doubt, with a view to\nJeffrey's cheques. Almost his last article (in January 1813) was\ndevoted to the Lancasterian controversy, in which Mill, as we shall\ndirectly see, was in alliance with the Whigs. But the Edinburgh\nReviewers were too distinctly of the Whig persuasion to be congenial\ncompany for a determined Radical. They would give him no more than a\nsecondary position, and would then take good care to avoid the\ninsertion of any suspicious doctrine. Mill wrote no more after the\nsummer of 1813.\n\nMeanwhile he was finding more sympathetic allies. First among them was\nWilliam Allen (1770-1843), chemist, of Plough Court. Allen was a\nQuaker; a man of considerable scientific tastes; successful in\nbusiness, and ardently devoted throughout his life to many\nphilanthropic schemes. He took, in particular, an active part in the\nagitation against slavery. He was, as we have seen, one of the\npartners who bought Owen's establishment at New Lanark; and his\nreligious scruples were afterwards the cause of Owen's retirement.\nThese, however, were only a part of his multifarious schemes. He was\nperhaps something of a busybody; his head may have been a little\nturned by the attentions which he received on all hands; he managed\nthe affairs of the duke of Kent; was visited by the Emperor Alexander\nin 1814; and interviewed royal personages on the Continent, in order\nto obtain their support in attacking the slave-trade, and introducing\ngood schools and prisons. But, though he may have shared some of the\nweaknesses of popular philanthropists, he is mentioned with respect\neven by observers such as Owen and Place, who had many prejudices\nagainst his principles. He undoubtedly deserves a place among the\nactive and useful social reformers of his time.\n\nI have already noticed the importance of the Quaker share in the\nvarious philanthropic movements of the time. The Quaker shared many of\nthe views upon practical questions which were favoured by the\nfreethinker. Both were hostile to slavery, in favour of spreading\neducation, opposed to all religious tests and restrictions, and\nadvocates of reform in prisons, and in the harsh criminal law. The\nfundamental differences of theological belief were not so productive\nof discord in dealing with the Quakers as with other sects; for it was\nthe very essence of the old Quaker spirit to look rather to the spirit\nthan to the letter. Allen, therefore, was only acting in the spirit of\nhis society when he could be on equally good terms with the Emperor\nAlexander or the duke of Kent, and, on the other hand, with James\nMill, the denouncer of kings and autocrats. He could join hands with\nMill in assailing slavery, insisting upon prison reform, preaching\ntoleration and advancing civilisation, although he heartily\ndisapproved of the doctrines with which Mill's practical principles\nwere associated. Mill, too, practised--even to a questionable\ndegree--the method of reticence, and took good care not to offend his\ncoadjutor.\n\nTheir co-operation was manifested in a quarterly journal called the\n_Philanthropist_, which appeared during the seven years, 1811-1817,\nand was published at Allen's expense. Mill found in it the opportunity\nof advocating many of his cherished opinions. He defended toleration\nin the name of Penn, whose life had been published by Clarkson. He\nattacked the slave-owners, and so came into alliance with Wilberforce,\nZachary Macaulay, and others of the evangelical persuasion. He found,\nat the same time, opportunities for propagating the creed of Bentham\nin connection with questions of prison reform and the penal code. His\nmost important article, published in 1812, was another contribution to\nthe Lancasterian controversy. In this Mill had allies of a very\ndifferent school; and his activity brings him into close connection\nwith one of the most remarkable men of the time.[8]\n\nThis was Francis Place, the famous Radical tailor. Place, born 3rd\nNovember 1771, had raised himself from the position of a working-man\nto be occupant of a shop at Charing Cross, which became the centre of\nimportant political movements. Between Place and Mill there was much\naffinity of character. Place, like Mill, was a man of rigid and\nvigorous intellect. Dogmatic, self-confident, and decidedly\ncensorious, not attractive by any sweetness or grace of character, but\nthoroughly sincere and independent, he extorts rather than commands\nour respect by his hearty devotion to what he at least believed to be\nthe cause of truth and progress. Place was what is now called a\nthorough 'individualist.' He believed in self-reliance and energy, and\nheld that the class to which he belonged was to be raised, as he had\nraised himself, by the exercise of those qualities, not by invoking\nthe direct interference of the central power, which, indeed, as he\nknew it, was only likely to interfere on the wrong side. He had the\nmisfortune to be born in London instead of Scotland, and had therefore\nnot Mill's educational advantages. He tried energetically, and not\nunsuccessfully, to improve his mind, but he never quite surmounted the\nweakness of the self-educated man, and had no special literary talent.\nHis writing, in fact, is dull and long-winded, though he has the merit\nof judging for himself, and of saying what he thinks.\n\nPlace had been a member of the Corresponding Society, and was at one\ntime chairman of the weekly committee. He had, however, disapproved of\ntheir proceedings, and retired in time to escape the imprisonment\nwhich finally crushed the committee. He was now occupied in building\nup his own fortunes at Charing Cross. When, during the second war, the\nnative English Radicalism began again to raise its head, Place took a\nhighly important share in the political agitation. Westminster, the\nconstituency in which he had a vote, had long been one of the most\nimportant boroughs. It was one of the few large popular\nconstituencies, and was affected by the influences naturally strongest\nin the metropolis. After being long under the influence of the court\nand the dean and chapter, it had been carried by Fox during the\ndiscontents of 1780, when the reform movement took a start and the\ncounty associations were symptoms of a growing agitation. The great\nWhig leader, though not sound upon the question of reform, represented\nthe constituency till his death, and reform dropped out of notice for\nthe time. Upon Fox's death (13th September 1806) Lord Percy was\nelected without opposition as his successor by an arrangement among\nthe ruling families. Place was disgusted at the distribution of 'bread\nand cheese and beer,' and resolved to find a truly popular candidate.\nIn the general election which soon followed at the end of 1806 he\nsupported Paull, an impecunious adventurer, who made a good fight, but\nwas beaten by Sir J. Hood and Sheridan. Place now proposed a more\nthorough organisation of the constituency, and formed a committee\nintended to carry an independent candidate. Sir Francis Burdett, a\ntypical country gentleman of no great brains and of much aristocratic\npride, but a man of honour, and of as much liberal feeling as was\ncompatible with wealth and station, had sat at the feet of the old\nRadical, Home Tooke. He had sympathised with the French revolution;\nbut was mainly, like his mentor, Tooke, a reformer of the English\ntype, and a believer in Magna Charta and the Bill of Rights. He had\nsat in parliament, and in 1802 had been elected for Middlesex. After a\nprolonged litigation, costing enormous sums, the election had been\nfinally annulled in 1806. He had subscribed L1000 towards Paull's\nexpenses; but was so disgusted with his own election experiences that\nhe refused to come forward as a candidate. Place's committee resolved\ntherefore to elect him and Paull free of expense. Disputes between\nPaull and Burdett led to a duel, in which both were wounded. The\ncommittee threw over Paull, and at the election on the dissolution of\nparliament in the spring of 1807, Burdett and Cochrane--afterwards\nLord Dundonald--were triumphantly elected, defeating the Whig\ncandidates, Sheridan and Elliot. The election was the first triumph of\nthe reformers, and was due to Place more than any one. Burdett\nretained his seat for Westminster until 1837, and, in spite of many\nquarrels with his party, was a leading representative of the movement,\nwhich henceforward slowly gathered strength. Place, indeed, had\napparently but scanty respect for the candidate whose success he had\nsecured. Burdett and his like aimed at popularity, while he was\ncontent to be ignored so long as he could by any means carry the\nmeasures which he approved. Place, therefore, acted as a most\nefficient wire-puller, but had no ambition to leave his shop to make\nspeeches on the hustings.\n\nThe scandals about the duke of York and the Walcheren expedition gave\na chance to the Radicals and to their leader in the House of Commons.\nEvents in 1810 led to a popular explosion, of which Burdett was the\nhero. John Gale Jones, an old member of the Corresponding Societies,\nhad put out a placard denouncing the House of Commons for closing its\ndoors during a debate upon the Walcheren expedition. The House\nproceeded against Jones, who was more or less advised by Place in his\nproceedings. Burdett took the part of Jones, by a paper published in\nCobbett's _Register_, and was ultimately committed to the Tower in\nconsequence. The whole of London was for a time in a state of\nexcitement, and upon the verge of an outbreak. Burdett refused to\nsubmit to the arrest. Mobs collected; soldiers filled the streets and\nwere pelted. Burdett, when at last he was forced to admit the\nofficers, appeared in his drawing-room in the act of expounding Magna\nCharta to his son. That, it was to be supposed, was his usual\noccupation of an afternoon. Meetings were held, and resolutions\npassed, in support of the martyr to liberty; and when his imprisonment\nterminated on the prorogation of parliament, vast crowds collected,\nand a procession was arranged to convoy him to his home. Place had\nbeen active in arranging all the details of what was to be a great\npopular manifestation. To his infinite disgust, Burdett shrank from\nthe performance, and went home by water. The crowd was left to expend\nits remaining enthusiasm upon the hackney carriage which contained his\nfellow-sufferer Jones. Jones, in the following December, was sentenced\nto twelve months' imprisonment for a libel. Cobbett, Burdett's special\nsupporter at this time, was also imprisoned in June 1810. For a time\nthe popular agitation collapsed. Place seems to have thought that the\nfailure was due to Burdett's want of courage, and dropped all\ncommunication with him till a later contest at Westminster.\n\nPlace was thus at the centre of the political agitation which, for the\ntime, represented the most energetic reforming movement. It was in\n1811 or 1812 that he became acquainted with Mill.[9] In Mill he\nrecognised a congenial spirit, and a man able to defend and develop\nprinciples. He perhaps, as Professor Bain thinks, made advances to\nMill upon the strength of the history of India; and in 1814 he was\ncertainly endeavouring to raise money to put Mill above the need of\nprecarious hack-work.[10] The anticipated difficulty of persuading\nMill so far to sacrifice his independence was apparently fatal to the\nscheme. Place was in occasional communication with Bentham, and\nvisited him at Ford Abbey in 1817. He became intimate with the great\nman; helped him in business affairs; and was one of the disciples\nemployed to prepare his books for publication.[11] Bentham was the\nsource of philosophy, and Mill only his prophet. But Mill, who was\ncapable of activity in practical affairs, was more useful to a man of\nthe world. The first business which brought them into close connection\nwas the Lancasterian controversy. The strong interest roused by this\nagitation was significant of many difficulties to come. The average\nmind had been gradually coming to the conclusion that the poor should\nbe taught to read and write. Sunday schools and Hannah More's schools\nin Somersetshire had drawn the attention of the religious world to the\nsubject. During the early years of the century the education question\nhad steadily become more prominent, and the growing interest was shown\nby a singularly bitter and complicated controversy. The opposite\nparties fought under the banners of Bell and Lancaster. Andrew Bell,\nborn at St. Andrews, 27th March 1753, was both a canny Scot and an\nAnglican clergyman. He combined philanthropy with business faculties.\nHe sailed to India in 1787 with L128, 10s. in his pocket to be an army\nchaplain; he returned in 1796 with L25,000 and a new system of\neducation which he had devised as superintendent of an orphan asylum.\nHe settled in England, published an account of his plan, and did\nsomething to bring it into operation. Meanwhile Joseph Lancaster\n(1770-1838), a young Quaker, had set up a school in London; he devised\na plan similar to that of Bell, and in 1803 published an account of\nhis improvements in education with acknowledgments to Bell. For a time\nthe two were on friendly terms. Lancaster set about propagating his\nnew system with more enthusiasm than discretion. His fame rapidly\nspread till it reached the throne. In 1805 George III. sent for him;\nthe royal family subscribed to his schools; and the king declared his\nwish that every child in his dominions should be taught to read the\nBible. The king's gracious wish unconsciously indicated a difficulty.\nWas it safe to teach the Bible without the safeguard of authorised\ninterpretation? Orthodox opponents feared the alliance with a man\nwhose first principle was toleration, and first among them was the\nexcellent Mrs. Trimmer, who had been already engaged in the\nSunday-school movement. She pointed out in a pamphlet that the\nschismatic Lancaster was weakening the Established Church. The\n_Edinburgh Review_ came to his support in 1806 and 1807; for the Whig,\nespecially if he was also a Scot, was prejudiced against the Church of\nEngland. Lancaster went on his way, but soon got into difficulties,\nfor he was impetuous, careless of money, and autocratic. William\nAllen, with another Quaker, came to his support in 1808, and founded\nthe Royal Lancasterian Society to maintain his school in the Borough\nRoad, and propagate its like elsewhere. Lancaster travelled through\nthe country, and the agitation prospered, and spread even to America.\nThe church, however, was now fairly aroused. Bishop Marsh preached a\nsermon in St. Paul's, and followed it up by pamphlets; the cause was\ntaken up by the _Quarterly Review_ in 1811, and in the same year the\nNational Society was founded to 'educate the poor in the principles of\nthe Established Church.' Bell had suggested a national system, but the\ntimes were not ripe. Meanwhile the controversy became furious. The\n_Edinburgh_ and the _Quarterly_ thundered on opposite sides. Immense\nimportance was attached by both parties to the scheme devised by Bell,\nand partly adopted by Lancaster. The war involved a personal element\nand the charges of plagiarism which give spice to a popular\ncontroversy. All parties, and certainly the Utilitarians, strangely\nexaggerated the value of the new method. They regarded the proposal\nthat children should be partly taught by other children instead of\nbeing wholly taught by adults as a kind of scientific discovery which\nwould enormously simplify and cheapen education. Believers in the\n'Panopticon' saw in it another patent method of raising the general\nlevel of intelligence. But the real question was between church and\ndissent. Was the church catechism to be imposed or not? This, as we\nhave seen, was the occasion of Bentham's assault upon church and\ncatechism. On the other side, Bell's claims were supported with\nenthusiasm by all the Tories, and by such men as Southey and\nColeridge. Southey, who had defended Bell in the _Quarterly_,[12]\nundertook to be Bell's biographer[13] and literary executor. Coleridge\nwas so vehement in the cause that when lecturing upon 'Romeo and\nJuliet' in 1811, he plunged by way of exordium into an assault upon\nLancaster's modes of punishment.[14] De Quincey testifies that he\nbecame a positive bore upon Bell's virtues. In 1812 Lancaster had got\ndeeply into debt to the trustees of the Society, who included besides\nAllen, Joseph Fox--a 'shallow, gloomy bigot' according to Place--and\nsome other Quakers. Lancaster resented their control, and in 1812 made\nover his Borough Road school to them, and set up one of his own at\nTooting. They continued, however, to employ him, and in 1813 formed\nthemselves into the 'British and Foreign' School Society. Place had\nknown Lancaster from 1804, and Mill had supported him in the press.\nThey both became members of the committee, though Place took the most\nactive part. He makes many grave charges against Lancaster, whom he\nregarded as hopelessly flighty and impracticable, if not worse.\nUltimately in 1814 Lancaster resigned his position, and naturally\nretorted that Place was an infidel. Place, meanwhile, was ill at ease\nwith the 'gloomy bigot,' as he calls Fox. After many quarrels, Fox\nsucceeded in getting the upper hand, and Place finally withdrew from\nthe committee in 1815.\n\nTwo other schemes arose out of this, in which Mill was specially\ninterested, but which both proved abortive. Mill and Place resolved in\n1813 to start a 'West London Lancasterian Institution,' which was to\neducate the whole population west of Temple Bar. They were joined by\nEdward Wakefield, father of the Edward Gibbon Wakefield who in later\nyears was known as an economist, and himself author of a work of\nconsiderable reputation, _An Account of Ireland, Statistical and\nPolitical_ (1812). The three joined Joseph Fox, and ultimately a\nmeeting was held in August 1813. Sir James Mackintosh was in the\nchair. Mill wrote the address, and motions were proposed by his friend\nJoseph Hume and by William Allen. Papers were circulated, headed\n'Schools for all,'[15] and the institution was launched with a\nsufficiency of applause. But the 'gloomy bigot' was secretary. He\ndeclared that he would rather see the institution destroyed than\npermit it to be used for infidel purposes. The Bible was, of course,\nto be read in the schools, but Fox wished that the Bible alone should\nbe read. As the committee, according to Place, included four infidels,\nthree Unitarians, six Methodists, two Baptists, two Roman Catholics,\nand several members of the Established Church, it was hardly a happy\nfamily. To add to the confusion, Sir Francis Burdett, who had\ncontributed a thousand pounds, had taken it into his head that Place\nwas a government spy.[16] The Association, as is hardly surprising,\nceased to exist in 1816, after keeping up a school of less than three\nhundred children, and ended in hopeless failure. The Utilitarians had\nhigher hopes from a scheme of their own. This was the Chrestomathic\nschool which occasioned Bentham's writing. An association was formed\nin February 1814. Mackintosh, Brougham, Mill, Allen, Fox, and\nWakefield were to be trustees. The school was to apply Lancasterian\nprinciples to the education of the middle classes, and Bentham was to\nsupply them with a philosophy and with a site in his garden. There the\nold gentleman was to see a small version of the Panopticon building,\nand, for a time, he took great delight in the prospect. Gradually,\nhowever, it seems to have dawned upon him that there might be\ninconveniences in being overlooked by a set of even model schoolboys.\nThere were difficulties as to funds. Ricardo offered L200 and\ncollected subscriptions for L900, but Place thought that he might have\nbeen more liberal. About 1817 they counted upon subscriptions for\nL2310. Allen was treasurer, Place secretary, and the dukes of Kent and\nYork were on the committee. Romilly was persuaded to join, and they\nhad hopes of the L1000 given by Burdett to the West London\nInstitution. But the thing could never be got into working order, in\nspite of Place's efforts and Mill's counsels; and, after painful\nhaulings and tuggings, it finally collapsed in 1820.[17]\n\nThe efforts of the Utilitarians to effect anything directly in the way\nof education thus fell completely flat. One moral is sufficiently\nobvious. They were, after all, but a small clique, regarded with\nsuspicion by all outsiders; and such a system as could seriously\naffect education could only be carried out either by government,\nwhich was thinking of very different things, or by societies already\nconnected with the great religious bodies. The only function which\ncould be adequately discharged by the little band of Utilitarians was\nto act upon public opinion; and this, no doubt, they could do to some\npurpose. I have gone so far into these matters in order to illustrate\ntheir position; but, as will be seen, Mill, though consulted at every\nstage by Place, and doing what he could to advocate the cause, was,\nafter all, in the background. He was still wrestling with the Indian\nHistory, which was, as he hoped, to win for him an independent\nposition. The effort was enormous. In 1814 he told Place that he was\nworking at the History from 5 A.M. till 11 P.M. When at Ford Abbey his\nregular day's work began at 6 A.M. and lasted till 11 P.M., during\nwhich time three hours were given to teaching his children, and a\ncouple of short walks supplied him with recreation. How, with all his\nenergy, he managed to pay his way is a mystery, which his biographer\nis unable fully to solve.[18]\n\nThe History at last appeared in 3 vols. 4to, at the end of 1817. Dry\nand stern as its author, and embodying some of his political\nprejudices, it was at least a solid piece of work, which succeeded at\nonce, and soon became the standard book upon the subject. Mill argues\nin the preface with characteristic courage that his want of personal\nknowledge of India was rather an advantage. It made him impartial. A\nlater editor[19] has shown that it led to some serious misconceptions.\nIt is characteristic of the Utilitarian attitude to assume that a\nsufficient knowledge of fact can always be obtained from blue-books\nand statistics. Some facts require imagination and sympathy to be\nappreciated, and there Mill was deficient. He could not give an\nadequate picture of Hindoo beliefs and customs, though he fully\nappreciated the importance of such questions. Whatever its\nshortcomings, the book produced a remarkable change in Mill's\nposition. He applied for a vacant office in the India House. His\nfriends, Joseph Hume and Ricardo, made interest for him in the city.\nPlace co-operated energetically.[20] Canning, then president of the\nBoard of Control, is said to have supported him; and the general\nimpression of his ability appears to have caused his election, in\nspite of some Tory opposition. He became Assistant to the Examiner of\nIndia Correspondence, with a salary of L800 on 12th May 1819. On 10th\nApril 1821 he became Second Assistant, with L1000 a year; on 9th April\n1823 he was made Assistant Examiner, with L1200 a year; and on 1st\nDecember 1830 Examiner, with L1900, which on 17th February 1836 was\nraised to L2000. The official work came in later years to absorb the\ngreatest part of Mill's energy, and his position excluded him from any\nactive participation in politics, had he ever been inclined for it.\nMill, however, set free from bondage, was able to exert himself very\neffectually with his pen; and his writings became in a great degree\nthe text-books of his sect.\n\nDuring 1818 he had again co-operated with Place in a political matter.\nThe dissolution of parliament in 1818 produced another contest at\nWestminster. Place and Mill were leaders in the Radical committee,\nwhich called a public meeting, where Burdett and Kinnaird were chosen\nas candidates. They were opposed to Romilly, the old friend of Bentham\nand of Mill himself. Both Mill and Bentham regarded him as not\nsufficiently orthodox. Romilly, however, was throughout at the head of\nthe poll, and the Radical committee were obliged to withdraw their\nsecond candidate, Kinnaird, in order to secure the election of Burdett\nagainst the government candidate Maxwell. Romilly soon afterwards\ndined at Bentham's house, and met Mill, with Dumont, Brougham, and\nRush, on friendly terms. On Romilly's sad death on 2nd November\nfollowing, Mill went to Worthing to offer his sympathy to the family,\nand declared that the 'gloom' had 'affected his health.' He took no\npart in the consequent election, in which Hobhouse stood\nunsuccessfully as the Radical candidate.\n\n\nIII. LEADER OF THE UTILITARIANS\n\nPolitics were beginning to enter upon a new phase. The period was\nmarked by the 'Six Acts' and the 'Peterloo massacre.' The Radical\nleaders who upheld the cause in those dark days were not altogether to\nthe taste of the Utilitarians. After Burdett, John Cartwright\n(1740-1824) and Henry (or 'Orator') Hunt (1773-1835), hero of the\n'Peterloo massacre,' were the most conspicuous. They were supported by\nCobbett, the greatest journalist of the time, and various more obscure\nwriters. The Utilitarians held them in considerable contempt. Burdett\nwas flashy, melodramatic, and vain; Hunt an 'unprincipled demagogue';\nand Cartwright, the Nestor of reform, who had begun his labours in\n1780, was, according to Place, wearisome, impracticable, and a mere\nnuisance in matters of business. The Utilitarians tried to use such\nmen, but shared the Tory opinion of their value. They had some\nrelations with other obscure writers who were martyrs to the liberty\nof the press. Place helped William Hone in the _Reformer's Register_,\nwhich was brought out in 1817. The famous trial in which Hone\ntriumphed over Ellenborough occurred at the end of that year. Richard\nCarlile (1790-1843), who reprinted Hone's pamphlets, and in 1818\npublished Paine's works, was sentenced in 1819 to three years'\nimprisonment; and while in confinement began the _Republican_, which\nappeared from 1819 to 1826. Ultimately he passed nine years in jail,\nand showed unflinching courage in maintaining the liberty of speech.\nThe Utilitarians, as Professor Bain believes, helped him during his\nimprisonments, and John Mill's first publication was a protest against\nhis prosecution.[21] A 'republican, an atheist, and Malthusian,' he\nwas specially hated by the respectable, and had in all these\ncapacities claims upon the sympathy of the Utilitarians. One of\nCarlile's first employments was to circulate the _Black Dwarf_, edited\nby Thomas Jonathan Wooler from 1817 to 1824.[22] This paper\nrepresented Cartwright, but it also published Bentham's reform\n_Catechism_, besides direct contributions and various selections from\nhis works.\n\nThe Utilitarians were opposed on principle to Cobbett, a reformer of a\ntype very different from their own; and still more vitally opposed to\nOwen, who was beginning to develop his Socialist schemes. If they had\nsympathy for Radicalism of the Wooler or Carlile variety, they\nbelonged too distinctly to the ranks of respectability, and were too\ndeeply impressed with the necessity of reticence, to allow their\nsympathies to appear openly. As, on the other hand, they were too\nRadical in their genuine creed to be accepted by Edinburgh Reviewers\nand frequenters of Holland House, there was a wide gap between them\nand the genuine Whig. Their task therefore was to give a political\ntheory which should be Radical in principle, and yet in such a form as\nshould appeal to the reason of the more cultivated readers without too\nopenly shocking their prejudices.\n\nJames Mill achieved this task by the publication of a series of\narticles in the Supplement to the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, which\nappeared from 1816 to 1823, of which I shall presently speak at\nlength. It passed for the orthodox profession of faith among the\nlittle circle of friends who had now gathered round him. First among\nthem was David Ricardo. He had become known to Mill in 1811. 'I,' said\nBentham, 'was the spiritual father of Mill, and Mill the spiritual\nfather of Ricardo.'[23] Mill was really the disciple of Ricardo in\neconomics; but it was Mill who induced him to publish his chief work,\nand Mill's own treatise upon the subject published in 1820 is\nsubstantially an exposition of Ricardo's doctrine. Mill, too,\nencouraged Ricardo to take a seat in parliament in 1818, and there for\nthe short remainder of his life, Ricardo defended the characteristic\nUtilitarian principles with the authority derived from his reputation\nas an economist.[24] The two were now especially intimate. During\nMill's first years in the India House, his only recreation was an\nannual visit to Ricardo at Gatcombe. Meetings at Ricardo's house in\nLondon led to the foundation of the 'Political Economy Club' in 1821.\nMill drafted the rules of the club, emphasising the duty of members to\npropagate sound economic opinions through the press. The club took\nroot and helped to make Mill known to politicians and men of\ncommercial influence. One of the members was Malthus, who is said, and\nthe assertion is credible enough, to have been generally worsted by\nMill in the discussions at the club. Mill was an awkward antagonist,\nand Malthus certainly not conspicuous for closeness of logic. The\ncircle of Mill's friends naturally extended as his position in the\nIndia House enabled him to live more at his ease and brought him into\ncontact with men of political position. His old school-fellow Joseph\nHume had made a fortune in India, and returned to take a seat in\nparliament and become the persistent and tiresome advocate of many of\nthe Utilitarian doctrines. A younger generation was growing up,\nenthusiastic in the cause of reform, and glad to sit at the feet of\nmen who claimed at least to be philosophical leaders. John Black\n(1783-1855), another sturdy Scot, who came from Duns in Berwickshire,\nhad, in 1817, succeeded Perry as editor of the _Morning Chronicle_.\nThe _Chronicle_ was an opposition paper, and day by day Black walked\nwith Mill from the India House, discussing the topics of the time and\ndischarging himself through the _Chronicle_. The _Chronicle_ declined\nafter 1821, owing to a change in the proprietorship.[25] Albany\nFonblanque (1793-1872) took to journalism at an early age, succeeded\nLeigh Hunt as leader-writer for the _Examiner_ in 1826, became\nanother exponent of Utilitarian principles, and for some time in\nalliance with John Stuart Mill was among the most effective\nrepresentatives of the new school in the press. John Ramsay M'Culloch\n(1789-1864) upheld the economic battle in the _Scotsman_ at Edinburgh\nfrom 1817-1827, and edited it from 1818-1820. He afterwards devoted\nhimself to lecturing in London, and was for many years the most ardent\napostle of the 'dismal science.' He was a genial, whisky-loving Scot;\nthe favourite object of everybody's mimicry; and was especially\nintimate with James Mill. Many other brilliant young men contributed\ntheir help in various ways. Henry Bickersteth (1783-1851), afterwards\nLord Langdale and Master of the Rolls, had brought Bentham and Burdett\ninto political alliance; and his rising reputation at the bar led to\nhis being placed in 1824 upon a commission for reforming the procedure\nof the Court of Chancery, one of the most cherished objects of the\nUtilitarian creed. Besides these there were the group of young men,\nwho were soon to be known as the 'philosophical Radicals.' John Stuart\nMill, upon whom the mantle of his father was to descend, was\nconspicuous by his extraordinary precocity, and having been carefully\neducated in the orthodox faith, was employed in 1825 upon editing\nBentham's great work upon evidence. George Grote (1794-1871), the\nfuture historian, had been introduced to Mill by Ricardo; and was in\n1821 defending Mill's theory of government against Mackintosh, and in\n1822 published the _Analysis of Revealed Religion_, founded upon\nBentham's manuscripts and expressing most unequivocally the\nUtilitarian theory of religion. With them were associated the two\nAustins, John (1790-1859) who, in 1821, lived close to Bentham and\nMill in Queen's Square, and who was regarded as the coming teacher of\nthe Utilitarian system of jurisprudence; and Charles (1799-1874), who\nupheld the true faith among the young gentlemen at Cambridge with a\nvigour and ability which at least rivalled the powers of his\ncontemporary, Macaulay. Meanwhile, Mill himself was disqualified by\nhis office from taking any direct part in political agitations. Place\ncontinued an active connection with the various Radical committees and\nassociations; but the younger disciples had comparatively little\nconcern in such matters. They were more interested in discussing the\napplications of Utilitarianism in various directions, or, so far as\nthey had parliamentary aspirations, were aspiring to found a separate\nbody of 'philosophical Radicals,' which looked down upon Place and his\nallies from the heights of superior enlightenment.\n\nMill could now look forward to a successful propaganda of the creed\nwhich had passed so slowly through its period of incubation. The death\nof Ricardo in 1823 affected him to a degree which astonished his\nfriends, accustomed only to his stern exterior. A plentiful crop of\nyoung proselytes, however, was arising to carry on the work; and the\nparty now became possessed of the indispensable organ. The\n_Westminster Review_ was launched at the beginning of 1824. Bentham\nprovided the funds; Mill's official position prevented him from\nundertaking the editorship, which was accordingly given to Bentham's\nyoung disciple, Bowring, helped for a time by Henry Southern. The\n_Westminster_ was to represent the Radicals as the two older reviews\nrepresented the Whigs and the Tories; and to show that the new party\nhad its philosophers and its men of literary cultivation as well as\nits popular agitators and journalists. It therefore naturally put\nforth its claims by opening fire in the first numbers against the\n_Edinburgh_ and the _Quarterly Reviews_. The assault upon the\n_Edinburgh Review_, of which I shall speak presently, made an\nimpression, and, as J. S. Mill tells us, brought success to the first\nnumber of the new venture. The gauntlet was thrown down with plenty of\nvigour, and reformers were expected to rally round so thoroughgoing a\nchampion. In later numbers Mill afterwards (Jan. 9, 1826) fell upon\nSouthey's _Book of the Church_, and (April 1826) assailed church\nestablishments in general. He defended toleration during the same year\nin a review of Samuel Bailey's _Formation of Opinions_, and gave a\ngeneral account of his political creed in an article (October) on the\n'State of the Nation.' This was his last contribution to the\n_Westminster_; but in 1827 he contributed to the _Parliamentary\nHistory and Review_, started by James Marshall of Leeds, an article\nupon recent debates on reform, which ended for a time his political\nwritings.\n\nThe Utilitarians had no great talent for cohesion. Their very\nprinciples were indeed in favour of individual independence, and they\nwere perhaps more ready to diverge than to tolerate divergence. The\n_Westminster Review_ had made a good start, and drew attention to the\nrising 'group'--J. S. Mill declares that it never formed a\n'school.'[26] From the very first the Mills distrusted Bowring and\ndisapproved of some articles; the elder Mill failed to carry his\ndisciples with him, partly because they were already in favour of\ngiving votes to women; and as the _Review_ soon showed itself unable\nto pay its way, some new arrangement became necessary. It was finally\nbought by Perronet Thompson, and ceased for a time to be the official\norgan of Benthamism.\n\nAnother undertaking occupied much of Mill's attention in the following\nyears. The educational schemes of the Utilitarians had so far proved\nabortive. In 1824, however, it had occurred to the poet, Thomas\nCampbell, then editing the _New Monthly Magazine_, that London ought\nto possess a university comparable to that of Berlin, and more on a\nlevel with modern thought than the old universities of Oxford and\nCambridge, which were still in the closest connection with the church.\nCampbell addressed a letter to Brougham, and the scheme was taken up\nenergetically on several sides. Place[27] wrote an article, which he\noffered to Campbell for the _New Monthly_, who declined out of modesty\nto publish it in his own organ. It was then offered to Bowring for the\n_Westminster_, and ultimately suppressed by him, which may have been\none of the causes of his differences with the Mills. Brougham took a\nleading part in the agitation; Joseph Hume promised to raise L100,000.\nGeorge Birkbeck, founder of the Mechanics' Institution, and Zachary\nMacaulay, who saw in it a place of education for dissenting ministers,\njoined the movement, and among the most active members of the new body\nwere James Mill and Grote. A council was formed at the end of 1825,\nand after various difficulties a sum of L160,000 was raised, and the\nuniversity started in Gower Street in 1828. Among the first body of\nprofessors were John Austin and M'Culloch, both of them sound\nUtilitarians. The old difficulty, however, made itself felt. In order\nto secure the unsectarian character of the university, religious\nteaching was omitted. The college was accused of infidelity. King's\nCollege was started in opposition; and violent antipathies were\naroused. A special controversy raged within the council itself. Two\nphilosophical chairs were to be founded; and philosophy cannot be kept\nclear of religion. After long discussions, one chair was filled by the\nappointment of the Reverend John Hoppus, an independent minister.\nGrote, declaring that no man, pledged by his position to the support\nof any tenets, should be appointed, resigned his place on the\ncouncil.[28] The university in 1836 became a college combined with its\nrival King's College under the newly formed examining body called the\nUniversity of London. It has, I suppose, been of service to education,\nand may be regarded as the one practical achievement of the\nUtilitarians in that direction, so far as its foundation was due to\nthem. It must, however, be admitted that the actual body still falls\nvery far short of the ideal present to the minds of its founders.\n\nFrom 1822 James Mill spent his vacations at Dorking, and afterwards at\nMickleham. He had devoted them to a task which was necessary to fill a\ngap in the Utilitarian scheme. Hitherto the school had assumed, rather\nthan attempted to establish, a philosophical basis of its teaching.\nBentham's fragmentary writings about the Chrestomathic school supplied\nall that could by courtesy be called a philosophy. Mill, however, had\nbeen from the first interested in philosophical questions. His reading\nwas not wide; he knew something of the doctrines taught by Stewart and\nStewart's successor, Brown. He had been especially impressed by\nHobbes, to some degree by Locke and Hume, but above all by Hartley. He\nknew something, too, of Condillac and the French Ideologists. Of\nrecent German speculation he was probably quite ignorant. I find\nindeed that Place had called his attention to the account of Kant,\npublished by Wirgman in the _Encyclopaedia Londinensis_ 1817. Mill\nabout the same time tells Place that he has begun to read _The Critic\nof Pure Reason_. 'I see clearly enough,' he says, 'what poor Kant\nwould be about, but it would require some time to give an account of\nhim.' He wishes (December 6, 1817) that he had time to write a book\nwhich would 'make the human mind as plain as the road from Charing\nCross to St. Paul's.'[29] This was apparently the task to which he\napplied himself in his vacations. The _Analysis_ appeared in 1829,\nand, whatever its defects of incompleteness and one-sidedness from a\nphilosophical point of view, shows in the highest degree Mill's powers\nof close, vigorous statement; and lays down with singular clearness\nthe psychological doctrine, which from his point of view supplied the\nfundamental theorems of knowledge in general. It does not appear,\nhowever, to have made an impression proportionate to the intellectual\npower displayed, and had to wait a long time before reaching the\nsecond edition due to the filial zeal of J. S. Mill.\n\nJames Mill, after his articles in the _Westminster_, could take\nlittle part in political agitation. He was still consulted by Place in\nregard to the Reform movement. Place himself took an important part at\nthe final crisis, especially by his circulation in the week of agony\nof the famous placard, 'Go for Gold.' But the Utilitarians were now\nlost in the crowd. The demand for reform had spread through all\nclasses. The attack upon the ruling class carried on by the Radicals\nof all shades in the dark days of Sidmouth and the six Acts was now\nsupported by the nation at large. The old Toryism could no longer\nsupport itself by appealing to the necessities of a struggle for\nnational existence. The prestige due to the victorious end of the war\nhad faded away. The Reform Bill of 1832 was passed, and the\nUtilitarians hoped that the millennium would at least begin to dawn.\n\nMill in 1830 removed from Queen's Square to Vicarage Place,\nKensington. He kept his house at Mickleham, and there took long Sunday\nwalks with a few of his disciples. His strength was more and more\nabsorbed in his official duties. He was especially called upon to give\nevidence before the committees which from 1830 to 1833 considered the\npolicy to be adopted in renewing the charter of the East India\nCompany. Mill appeared as the advocate of the company, defended their\npolicy, and argued against the demands of the commercial body which\ndemanded the final suppression of the old trading monopoly of the\nCompany. The abolition, indeed, was a foregone conclusion; but Mill's\nview was not in accordance with the doctrines of the thoroughgoing\nfreetraders. His official experience, it seems, upon this and other\nmatters deterred him from the _a priori_ dogmatism too characteristic\nof his political speculations. Mill also suggested the formation of a\nlegislative council, which was to contain one man 'versed in the\nphilosophy of men and government.' This was represented by the\nappointment of the legal member of council in the Act of 1833. Mill\napproved of Macaulay as the first holder of the post. It was 'very\nhandsome' of him, as Macaulay remarks, inasmuch as the famous articles\nwritten by Macaulay himself, in which the _Edinburgh_ had at last\nretorted upon the Utilitarians, must still have been fresh in his\nmemory. The 'Penal Code' drawn by Macaulay as holder of the office was\nthe first actual attempt to carry out Bentham's favourite schemes\nunder British rule, and the influence of the chief of Bentham's\ndisciples at the India House may have had something to do with its\ninitiation. Macaulay's chief subordinate, it may be remarked, Charles\nHay Cameron, was one of the Benthamites, and had been proposed by\nGrote for the chair at the London University ultimately filled by\nHoppus.\n\nAfter 1830 Mill wrote the severe fragment on Mackintosh, which, after\na delay caused by Mackintosh's death, appeared in 1835. He contributed\nsome articles to the _London Review_, founded by Sir W. Molesworth, as\nan organ of the 'philosophical Radicals,' and superintended, though\nnot directly edited, by J. S. Mill. These, his last performances,\nrepeat the old doctrines. It does not appear, indeed, that Mill ever\naltered one of his opinions. He accepted Bentham's doctrine to the\nend, as unreservedly as a mathematician might accept Newton's\n_Principia_.\n\nMill's lungs had begun to be affected. It was supposed that they were\ninjured by the dust imbibed on coach journeys to Mickleham. He had a\nbad attack of haemorrhage in August 1835, and died peacefully on 23rd\nJune 1836.\n\nWhat remains to be said of Mill personally may be suggested by a\nnoticeable parallel. S. T. Coleridge, born about six months before\nMill, died two years before him. The two lives thus coincided for more\nthan sixty years, and each man was the leader of a school. In all else\nthe contrast could hardly be greater. If we were to apply the rules of\nordinary morality, it would be entirely in Mill's favour. Mill\ndischarged all his duties as strenuously as a man could, while\nColeridge's life was a prolonged illustration of the remark that when\nan action presented itself to him as a duty he became physically\nincapable of doing it. Whatever Mill undertook he accomplished, often\nin the face of enormous difficulties. Coleridge never finished\nanything, and his works are a heap of fragments of the prolegomena to\nambitious schemes. Mill worked his hardest from youth to age, never\nsparing labour or shirking difficulties or turning aside from his\npath. Coleridge dawdled through life, solacing himself with opium, and\ncould only be coaxed into occasional activity by skilful diplomacy.\nMill preserved his independence by rigid self-denial, temperance, and\npunctuality. Coleridge was always dependent upon the generosity of his\nfriends. Mill brought up a large family, and in the midst of severe\nlabours found time to educate them even to excess. Coleridge left his\nwife and children to be cared for by others. And Coleridge died in the\nodour of sanctity, revered by his disciples, and idolised by his\nchildren; while Mill went to the grave amidst the shrugs of\nrespectable shoulders, and respected rather than beloved by the son\nwho succeeded to his intellectual leadership.\n\nThe answer to the riddle is indeed plain enough; or rather there are\nmany superabundantly obvious answers. Had Mill defended orthodox views\nand Coleridge been avowedly heterodox, we should no doubt have heard\nmore of Coleridge's opium and of Mill's blameless and energetic life.\nBut this explains little. That Coleridge was a man of genius and,\nmoreover, of exquisitely poetical genius, and that Mill was at most a\nman of remarkable talent and the driest and sternest of logicians is\nalso obvious. It is even more to the purpose that Coleridge was\noverflowing with kindliness, though little able to turn goodwill to\nmuch effect; whereas Mill's morality took the form chiefly of\nattacking the wicked. This is indicated by the saying attributed by\nBowring to Bentham that Mill's sympathy for the many sprang out of his\nhatred of the oppressing few.[30] J. S. Mill very properly protested\nagainst this statement when it was quoted in the _Edinburgh Review_.\nIt would obviously imply a gross misunderstanding, whether Bentham,\nnot a good observer of men, said so or not. But it indicates the side\nof Mill's character which made him unattractive to contemporaries and\nalso to posterity. He partook, says his son,[31] of the Stoic, the\nEpicurean, and the Cynic character. He was a Stoic in his personal\nqualities; an Epicurean so far as his theory of morals was concerned;\nand a Cynic in that he cared little for pleasure. He thought life a\n'poor thing' after the freshness of youth had passed; and said that\nhe had never known an old man happy unless he could live over again in\nthe pleasures of the young. Temperance and self-restraint were\ntherefore his favourite virtues. He despised all 'passionate\nemotions'; he held with Bentham that feelings by themselves deserved\nneither praise nor blame; he condemned a man who did harm whether the\nharm came from malevolence or from intellectual error. Therefore all\nsentiment was objectionable, for sentiment means neglect of rules and\ncalculations. He shrank from showing feeling with more than the usual\nEnglish reserve; and showed his devotion to his children by drilling\nthem into knowledge with uncompromising strictness. He had no feeling\nfor the poetical or literary side of things; and regarded life, it\nwould seem, as a series of arguments, in which people were to be\nconstrained by logic, not persuaded by sympathy. He seems to have\ndespised poor Mrs. Mill, and to have been unsuccessful in concealing\nhis contempt, though in his letters he refers to her respectfully.\nMill therefore was a man little likely to win the hearts of his\nfollowers, though his remarkable vigour of mind dominated their\nunderstandings.\n\nThe amiable and kindly, whose sympathies are quickly moved, gain an\nunfair share of our regard both in life and afterwards. We are more\npleased by an ineffectual attempt to be kindly, than by real kindness\nbestowed ungraciously. Mill's great qualities should not be overlooked\nbecause they were hidden by a manner which seems almost deliberately\nrepellent. He devoted himself through life to promote the truth as he\nsaw it; to increase the scanty amounts of pleasures enjoyed by\nmankind; and to discharge all the duties which he owed to his\nneighbours. He succeeded beyond all dispute in forcibly presenting one\nset of views which profoundly influenced his countrymen; and the very\nnarrowness of his intellect enabled him to plant his blows more\neffectively.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] The chief authority for James Mill is _James Mill: a Biography_,\nby Alexander Bain, Emeritus Professor of Logic in the University of\nAberdeen, London, 1882. The book contains very full materials; and, if\nrather dry, deals with a dry subject.\n\n[2] Wallas's _Francis Place_, p. 70 _n._\n\n[3] Bain's _James Mill_, p. 166.\n\n[4] Gifford's real name was John Richards Green. The identity of his\nassumed name with that of the more famous William Gifford has led to a\ncommon confusion between the two periodicals. 'Peter Pindar' assaulted\nWilliam Gifford under the erroneous impression that he was editor of\nthe second.\n\n[5] Letter in Bain's _James Mill_, pp. 136-40.\n\n[6] _Autobiography_, p. 39.\n\n[7] Bain's _James Mill_, pp. 97-106. Mill appears to have said\nsomething 'extravagant' about Bentham in an article upon Miranda in\nthe _Edinburgh Review_ for January 1809. He also got some praises of\nBentham into the _Annual Review_ of 1809 (Bain, 92-96).\n\n[8] See the very interesting Life of Francis Place, by Mr. Graham\nWallas, 1898.\n\n[9] Bain's _James Mill_, p. 78, and Wallas's _Francis Place_, p. 66.\n\n[10] Wallas's _Francis Place_, p. 68.\n\n[11] He 'put together' the _Not Paul but Jesus_ at Ford Abbey in 1817,\nand helped to preface the Reform _Catechism_. Wallas's _Francis\nPlace_, p. 84.\n\n[12] The article of 1811 was also published separately.\n\n[13] He wrote only the first volume. Two others were added by Cuthbert\nSouthey.\n\n[14] _Lectures_ (Ashe, 1885), pp. 32, 61.\n\n[15] James Mill, according to Place, wrote a 'memorable and admirable\nessay, \"Schools for all, not schools for Churchmen only.\"'--Wallas's\n_Francis Place_, 99 _n._\n\n[16] This absurd suspicion was aroused by the quarrel about Burdett's\narrest. See Wallas's _Place_, p. 56.\n\n[17] Mr. Wallas gives an account of these schemes in chap. iv. of his\nLife of Place. I have also consulted Place's collections in Additional\nMSS., 27,823.\n\n[18] Bain's _James Mill_, p. 162.\n\n[19] H. H. Wilson in his preface to the edition of 1840.\n\n[20] Wallas's _Francis Place_, p. 78.\n\n[21] Bain's _James Mill_, p. 435.\n\n[22] _Ibid._ p. 433.\n\n[23] Bentham's _Works_, p. 498.\n\n[24] See Carman in _Economic Review_, 1894.\n\n[25] See under Black in _Dictionary of National Biography_.\n\n[26] _Autobiography_, p. 101.\n\n[27] See Place's account in Additional MSS. 27,823.\n\n[28] G. C. Robertson, _Philosophical Remains_, p. 166; and under\nGeorge Grote in _Dictionary of National Biography_.\n\n[29] Letters communicated by Mr. Graham Wallas. See Mr. Wallas's\n_Francis Place_, p. 91.\n\n[30] So Place observed that Mill 'could help the mass, but could not\nhelp the individual, not even himself or his own.'--Wallas's _Francis\nPlace_, p. 79.\n\n[31] _Autobiography_, p. 48.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nREFORM MOVEMENTS\n\n\nI. POLITICAL CHANGE\n\nThe last years of Mill's life correspond to the period in which\nUtilitarianism reached, in certain respects, its highest pitch of\ninfluence. The little band who acknowledged him as their chief leader,\nand as the authorised lieutenant of Bentham, considered themselves to\nbe in the van of progress. Though differing on many points from each\nother, and regarded with aversion or distrust by the recognised party\nleaders, they were in their most militant and confident state of mind.\nThey were systematically reticent as to their religious views: they\nleft to popular orators the public advocacy of their favourite\npolitical measures; and the credit of finally passing such of those\nmeasures as were adopted fell chiefly to the hands of the great\npolitical leaders. The Utilitarians are ignored in the orthodox Whig\nlegend. In the preface to his collected works, Sydney Smith runs over\nthe usual list of changes which had followed, and, as he seems to\nthink, had in great part resulted from, the establishment of the\n_Edinburgh Review_. Smith himself, and Jeffrey and Horner and, above\nall, 'the gigantic Brougham,' had blown the blast which brought down\nthe towers of Jericho. Sir G. O. Trevelyan, in his _Life of Macaulay_,\ndescribes the advent of the Whigs to office in a similar sense.\n'Agitators and incendiaries,' he says, 'retired into the background,\nas will always be the case when the country is in earnest: and\nstatesmen who had much to lose, and were not afraid to risk it,\nstepped quietly and firmly to the front. The men and the sons of the\nmen who had so long endured exclusion from office, embittered by\nunpopularity, at length reaped their reward.'[32] The Radical version\nof the history is different. The great men, it said, who had left the\ncause to be supported by agitators so long as the defence was\ndangerous and profitless, stepped forward now that it was clearly\nwinning, and received both the reward and the credit. Mill and Place\ncould not find words to express their contempt for the trimming,\nshuffling Whigs. They were probably unjust enough in detail; but they\nhad a strong case in some respects. The Utilitarians represented that\npart of the reforming party which had a definite and a reasoned creed.\nThey tried to give logic where the popular agitators were content with\ndeclamation, and represented absolute convictions when the Whig\nreformers were content with tentative and hesitating compromises. They\nhad some grounds for considering themselves to be the 'steel of the\nlance'; the men who formulated and deliberately defended the\nprinciples which were beginning to conquer the world.\n\nThe Utilitarians, I have said, became a political force in the\nconcluding years of the great war struggle. The catastrophe of the\nrevolution had unchained a whole whirlwind of antagonisms. The\noriginal issues had passed out of sight; and great social,\nindustrial, and political changes were in progress which made the\nnation that emerged from the war a very different body from the nation\nthat had entered it nearly a generation before. It is not surprising\nthat at first very erroneous estimates were made of the new position\nwhen peace at last returned.\n\nThe Radicals, who had watched on one side the growth of debt and\npauperism, and, on the other hand, the profits made by stockjobbers,\nlandlords, and manufacturers, ascribed all the terrible sufferings to\nthe selfish designs of the upper classes. When the war ended they\nhoped that the evils would diminish, while the pretext for\nmisgovernment would be removed. A bitter disappointment followed. The\nwar was followed by widespread misery. Plenty meant ruin to\nagriculturists, and commercial 'gluts' resulting in manufacturers'\nwarehouses crammed with unsaleable goods. The discontent caused by\nmisery had been encountered during the war by patriotic fervour. It\nwas not a time for redressing evils, when the existence of the nation\nwas at stake. Now that the misery continued, and the excuse for\ndelaying redress had been removed, a demand arose for parliamentary\nreform. Unfortunately discontent led also to sporadic riotings, to\nbreaking of machinery and burning of ricks. The Tory government saw in\nthese disturbances a renewal of the old Jacobin spirit, and had\nvisions--apparently quite groundless--of widespread conspiracies and\nsecret societies ready to produce a ruin of all social order. It had\nrecourse to the old repressive measures, the suspension of the Habeas\nCorpus Act, the passage of the 'Six Acts,' and the prosecution of\npopular agitators. Many observers fancied that the choice lay between\na servile insurrection and the establishment of arbitrary power.\n\nBy degrees, however, peace brought back prosperity. Things settled\ndown; commerce revived; and the acute distress passed away. The whole\nnation went mad over the wrongs of Queen Caroline; and the demand for\npolitical reform became for the time less intense. But it soon\nappeared that, although this crisis had been surmounted, the temper of\nthe nation had profoundly changed. The supreme power still belonged\nconstitutionally to the landed interest. But it had a profoundly\nmodified social order behind it. The war had at least made it\nnecessary to take into account the opinions of larger classes. An\nappeal to patriotism means that some regard must be paid to the\nprejudices and passions of people at large. When enormous sums were to\nbe raised, the moneyed classes would have their say as to modes of\ntaxation. Commerce and manufactures went through crises of terrible\ndifficulty due to the various changes of the war; but, on the whole,\nthe industrial classes were steadily and rapidly developing in wealth,\nand becoming relatively more important. The war itself was, in one\naspect at least, a war for the maintenance of the British supremacy in\ntrade. The struggle marked by the policy of the 'Orders in Council' on\none side, and Napoleon's decrees on the other, involved a constant\nreference to Manchester and Liverpool and the rapidly growing\nmanufacturing and commercial interests. The growth, again, of the\npress, at a time when every one who could read was keenly interested\nin news of most exciting and important events, implied the rapid\ndevelopment of a great organ of public opinion.\n\nThe effects of these changes soon became palpable. The political\natmosphere was altogether different; and an entirely new set of\ninfluences was governing the policy of statesmen. The change affected\nthe Tory as much as the Whig. However strongly he might believe that\nhe was carrying on the old methods, he was affected by the new ideas\nwhich had been almost unconsciously incorporated in his creed. How\ngreat was the change, and how much it took the shape of accepting\nUtilitarian theories, may be briefly shown by considering a few\ncharacteristic facts.\n\nThe ablest men who held office at the time were Canning, Huskisson,\nand Peel. They represented the conservatism which sought to\ndistinguish itself from mere obstructiveness. Their influence was felt\nin many directions. The Holy Alliance had the sympathy of men who\ncould believe that the war had brought back the pre-revolutionary\norder, and that its main result had been to put the Jacobin spirit in\nchains. Canning's accession to office in 1822 meant that the foreign\npolicy of England was to be definitely opposed to the policy of the\n'Holy Alliance.' A pithy statement of his view is given in a\nremarkable letter, dated 1st February 1823, to the prince who was soon\nto become Charles X.[33] The French government had declared that a\npeople could only receive a free constitution as a gift from their\nlegitimate kings. Should the English ministry, says Canning, after\nthis declaration, support the French in their attack upon the\nconstitutional government of Spain, it would be driven from office\namid 'the execration of Tories and Whigs alike.' He thought that the\ndoctrine of the sovereignty of the people was less alien to the\nspirit of the British Constitution than the opposite doctrine of the\nlegitimists. In the early days, when Canning sat at the feet of Pitt,\nthe war, if not in their eyes an Anti-Jacobin crusade, had to be\nsupported by stimulating the Anti-Jacobin sentiment. In later days,\nthe war had come to be a struggle against the oppression of nations by\nforeign despots. Canning could now accept the version of Pitt's policy\nwhich corresponded to the later phase. Englishmen in general had no\nmore sympathy for despots who claimed a divine right than for despots\nwho acted in the name of democracy--especially when the despots\nthreatened to interfere with British trade. When Canning called 'the\nnew world into existence to redress the balance of the old,'[34] he\ndeclared that English policy should resist threats from the Holy\nAlliance directed against some of our best customers. The general\napproval had special force among the Utilitarians. In the South\nAmerican States Bentham had found eager proselytes, and had hoped to\nbecome a Solon. He had been consulted by the constitutionalists in\nSpain and Portugal; and he and his disciples, Joseph Hume in\nparticular, had joined the Greek Committee, and tried to regenerate\nAthens by sound Utilitarian tracts. All English Liberals sympathised\nwith the various movements which were more or less favoured by\nCanning's policy; but the Utilitarians could also see in them the\nopening of new fields already white for the harvest.\n\nThe foreign policy was significant. It proved that the war, whatever\nelse it had done, had not brought back the old order; and the old\nBritish traditions in favour of liberty of speech and action would\nrevive now that they were no longer trammelled by the fears of a\ndestructive revolution. The days of July in 1830 gave fresh importance\nto the reaction of foreign upon English politics.\n\n\nII. LAW REFORM\n\nMeanwhile, however, the Utilitarians had a far stronger interest in\ndomestic problems. In the first place, in Bentham's especial province\na complete change of feeling had taken place. Romilly was Bentham's\nearliest disciple (so Bentham said), and looked up to him with 'filial\nreverence.' Every 'reformatiuncle' introduced by Romilly in parliament\nhad been first brought to Bentham, to be conned over by the two.[35]\nWith great difficulty Romilly had got two or three measures through\nthe House of Commons, generally to be thrown out by Eldon's influence\nin the Lords.[36] After Romilly's death in 1818, the cause was taken\nup by the Whig philosopher, Sir James Mackintosh, and made a distinct\nstep in advance. Though there were still obstacles in the upper\nregions, a committee was obtained to consider the frequency of capital\npunishment, and measures were passed to abolish it in particular\ncases. Finally, in 1823, the reform was adopted by Peel. Peel was\ndestined to represent in the most striking way the process by which\nnew ideas were gradually infiltrating the upper sphere. Though still a\nstrong Tory and a representative of the university of Oxford, he was\nclosely connected with the manufacturing classes, and had become\naware, as he wrote to Croker (23rd March 1820), that public opinion\nhad grown to be too large for its accustomed channels. As Home\nSecretary, he took up the whole subject of the criminal law, and\npassed in the next years a series of acts consolidating and mitigating\nthe law, and repealing many old statutes. A measure of equal\nimportance was his establishment in 1829 of the metropolitan police\nforce, which at last put an end to the old chaotic muddle described by\nColquhoun of parish officers and constables. Other significant legal\nchanges marked the opening of a new era. Eldon was the very\nincarnation of the spirit of obstruction; and the Court of Chancery,\nover which he presided for a quarter of a century, was thought to be\nthe typical stronghold of the evil principles denounced by Bentham. An\nattack in 1823 upon Eldon was made in the House of Commons by John\nWilliams (1777-1846), afterwards a judge. Eldon, though profoundly\nirritated by the personal imputations involved, consented to the\nappointment of a commission, which reported in 1825, and recommended\nmeasures of reform. In 1828, Brougham made a great display upon which\nhe had consulted Bentham.[37] In a speech of six hours' length he gave\na summary of existing abuses, which may still be read with\ninterest.[38] Commissions were appointed to investigate the procedure\nof the Common Law Court and the law of real property. Another\ncommission, intended to codify the criminal law, was appointed in\n1833. Brougham says that of 'sixty capital defects' described in his\nspeech, fifty-five had been removed, or were in course of removal,\nwhen his speeches were collected (_i.e._ 1838). Another speech of\nBrougham's in 1828 dealt with the carrying into execution of a\nfavourite plan of Bentham's--the formation of local courts, which\nultimately became the modern county courts.[39] The facts are\nsignificant of a startling change--no less than an abrupt transition\nfrom the reign of entire apathy to a reign of continuous reform\nextending over the whole range of law. The Reform Bill accelerated the\nmovement, but it had been started before Bentham's death. The great\nstone, so long immovable, was fairly set rolling.\n\nBentham's influence, again, in bringing about the change is\nundeniable. He was greatly dissatisfied with Brougham's speech, and,\nindeed, would have been dissatisfied with anything short of a complete\nlogical application of his whole system. He held Brougham to be\n'insincere,'[40] a trimmer and popularity-hunter, but a useful\ninstrument. Brougham's astonishing vanity and self-seeking prompted\nand perverted his amazing activity. He represents the process, perhaps\nnecessary, by which a philosopher's ideas have to be modified before\nthey can be applied to practical application. Brougham, however, could\nspeak generously of men no longer in a position to excite his\njealousy. He says in the preface to his first speech that 'the age of\nlaw reform and the age of Jeremy Bentham' were the same thing, and\ndeclares Bentham to be the 'first legal philosopher' who had appeared\nin the world. As the Chief advocates of Bentham he reckons Romilly,\nhis parliamentary representative; Dumont, his literary interpreter;\nand James Mill, who, in his article upon 'jurisprudence,' had\npopularised the essential principles of the doctrine.\n\nThe Utilitarians had at last broken up the barriers of obstruction and\nset the stream flowing. Whigs and Tories were taking up their\ntheories. They naturally exaggerated in some respects the completeness\nof the triumph. The English law has not yet been codified, and it was\ncharacteristic of the Benthamite school to exaggerate the facility of\nthat process. In their hatred of 'judge-made law' they assumed too\neasily that all things would be arranged into convenient pigeon-holes\nas soon as 'Judge and Co.' were abolished. It was a characteristic\nerror to exaggerate the simplicity of their problem, and to fail to\nsee that 'judge-made' law corresponds to a necessary inductive process\nby which the complex and subtle differences have to be gradually\nascertained and fitted into a systematic statement. One other remark\nsuggests itself. The Utilitarians saw in the dogged obstructiveness of\nEldon and his like the one great obstacle to reform. It did not occur\nto them that the clumsiness of parliamentary legislation might be\nanother difficulty. They failed to notice distinctly one tendency of\ntheir reforms. To make a code you require a sovereign strong enough to\ndominate the lawyers, not a system in which lawyers are an essential\npart of a small governing class. Codification, in short, means\ncentralisation in one department. Blindness to similar results\nelsewhere was a characteristic of the Utilitarian thinkers.\n\n\nIII. ECONOMIC REFORM\n\nIn another department the Utilitarians boasted, and also with good\nreason, of the triumph of their tenets. Political economy was in the\nascendant. Professorships were being founded in Oxford, Cambridge,[41]\nLondon, and Edinburgh. Mrs. Marcet's _Conversations_ (1818) were\nspreading the doctrine among babes and sucklings. The Utilitarians\nwere the sacred band who defended the strictest orthodoxy against all\nopponents. They spoke as recognised authorities upon some of the most\nvital questions of the day, of which I need here only notice Free\nTrade, the doctrine most closely associated with the teaching of their\nrevered Adam Smith. In 1816 Ricardo remarks with satisfaction that the\nprinciple 'is daily obtaining converts' even among the most prejudiced\nclasses; and he refers especially to a petition in which the clothiers\nof Gloucestershire[42] expressed their willingness to give up all\nrestrictions. There was, indeed, an important set-off against this\ngain. The landowners were being pledged to protection. They had\ndecided that in spite of the peace, the price of wheat must be kept up\nto 80s. a quarter. They would no longer be complimented as Adam Smith\nhad complimented them on their superior liberality, and were now\ncreating a barrier only to be stormed after a long struggle.\nMeanwhile the principle was making rapid way among their rivals. One\nsymptom was the adoption by the London merchants in 1820 of a famous\npetition on behalf of free trade.[43] It was drawn up by Thomas Tooke\n(1774-1858), who had long been actively engaged in the Russian trade,\nand whose _History of Prices_ is in some respects the most valuable\neconomic treatise of the time. Tooke gives a curious account of his\naction on this occasion.[44] He collected a few friends engaged in\ncommerce, who were opposed to the corn laws. He found that several of\nthem had 'crude and confused' notions upon the subject, and that each\nheld that his own special interests should be exempted on some pretext\nfrom the general rule. After various dexterous pieces of diplomacy,\nhowever, he succeeded in obtaining the signature of Samuel Thornton, a\ngovernor of the bank of England, and ultimately procured a sufficient\nnumber of signatures by private solicitation. He was favourably\nreceived by the Prime Minister Lord Liverpool, and Vansittart (then\nChancellor of the Exchequer), and finally got the petition presented\nto the House of Commons by Alexander Baring (afterwards Lord\nAshburton). Tooke remarks that the Liverpool administration was in\nadvance, not only of the public generally, but of the 'mercantile\ncommunity,' Glasgow and Manchester, however, followed in the same\nsteps, and the petition became a kind of official manifesto of the\northodox doctrine. The Political Economy Club formed next year at\nTooke's instigation (April 18, 1821) was intended to hasten the\nprocess of dispersing crude and confused ideas. It was essentially an\norgan of the Utilitarian propaganda.\n\nThe influence of the economists upon public policy was shown by the\nimportant measures carried through chiefly by Huskisson. Huskisson\n(1770-1830) was a type of the most intelligent official of his time.\nLike his more brilliant friend Canning, he had been introduced into\noffice under Pitt, and retained a profound reverence for his early\nleader. Huskisson was a thorough man of business, capable of wrestling\nwith blue-books, of understanding the sinking-fund, and having\ntheories about the currency; a master of figures and statistics and\nthe whole machinery of commerce. Though eminently useful, he might at\nany moment be applying some awkward doctrine from Adam Smith.\n\nHuskisson began the series of economic reforms which were brought to\ntheir full development by Peel and Gladstone. The collection of his\nspeeches[45] incidentally brings out very clearly his relation to the\nUtilitarians. The most remarkable is a great speech of April 24,\n1826[46] (upon the state of the silk manufacture), of which Canning\ndeclared that he had never heard one abler, or which made a deeper\nimpression upon the House. In this he reviews his policy, going over\nthe most important financial measures of the preceding period. They\nmade a new era, and he dates the beginning of the movement from the\nLondon petition, and the 'luminous speech' made by Baring when\npresenting it. We followed public opinion, he says, and did not create\nit.[47] Adopting the essential principles of the petition, the\ngovernment had in the first place set free the great woollen trade.\nThe silk trade had been emancipated by abolishing the Spitalfield Acts\npassed in the previous century, which enabled magistrates to fix the\nrates of wages. The principle of prohibition had been abandoned,\nthough protective duties remained. The navigation laws had been\nmaterially relaxed, and steps taken towards removing restrictions of\ndifferent kinds upon trade with France and with India. One symptom of\nthe change was the consolidation of the custom law effected by James\nDeacon Hume (1774-1842), an official patronised by Huskisson, and an\noriginal member of the Political Economy Club. By a law passed in\n1825, five hundred statutes dating from the time of Edward I. were\nrepealed, and the essence of the law given in a volume of moderate\nsize. Finally, the removal of prohibitions was undermining the\nsmugglers.\n\nThe measures upon which Huskisson justly prided himself might have\nbeen dictated by the Political Economy Club itself. So far as they\nwent they were an application of the doctrines of its thoroughgoing\nmembers, of Mill, Ricardo, and the orthodox school. They indeed\nsupported him in the press. The _Morning Chronicle_, which expressed\ntheir views, declared him to be the most virtuous minister, that is\n(in true Utilitarian phrase), the most desirous of national welfare\nwho had ever lived. The praise of Radicals would be not altogether\nwelcome. Canning, in supporting his friend, maintained that sound\ncommercial policy belonged no more to the Whigs than to the Tories.\nHuskisson and he were faithful disciples of Pitt, whose treaty with\nFrance in 1786, assailed by Fox and the Whigs, had been the first\npractical application of the Wealth of Nations. Neither party,\nperhaps, could claim a special connection with good or bad political\neconomy; and certainly neither was prepared to incur political\nmartyrdom in zeal for scientific truth. A question was beginning to\ncome to the front which would make party lines dependent upon economic\ntheories, and Huskisson's view of this was characteristic.\n\nThe speech from which I have quoted begins with an indignant retort\nupon a member who had applied to him Burke's phrase about a\nperfect-bred metaphysician exceeding the devil in malignity and\ncontempt for mankind. Huskisson frequently protested even against the\nmilder epithet of theorist. He asserted most emphatically that he\nappealed to 'experience' and not to 'theory,' a slippery distinction\nwhich finds a good exposure in Bentham's _Book of Fallacies_.[48] The\ndoctrine, however, was a convenient one for Huskisson. He could appeal\nto experience to show that commercial restrictions had injured the\nwoollen trade, and their absence benefited the cotton trade,[49] and\nwhen he was not being taunted with theories, he would state with\nperfect clearness the general free trade argument.[50] But he had to\nkeep an eye to the uncomfortable tricks which theories sometimes play.\nHe argued emphatically in 1825[51] that analogy between manufactures\nand agriculture is 'illogical.' He does not wish to depress the price\nof corn, but to keep it at such a level that our manufactures may not\nbe hampered by dear food. Here he was forced by stress of politics to\ndiffer from his economical friends. The country gentleman did not wish\nto pay duties on his silk or his brandy, but he had a direct and\nobvious interest in keeping up the price of corn. Huskisson had\nhimself supported the Corn Bill of 1815, but it was becoming more and\nmore obvious that a revision would be necessary. In 1828 he declared\nthat he 'lamented from the bottom of his soul the mass of evil and\nmisery and destruction of capital which that law in the course of\ntwelve years had produced.'[52] Ricardo, meanwhile, and the economists\nhad from the first applied to agriculture the principles which\nHuskisson applied to manufactures.[53] Huskisson's melancholy death\nhas left us unable to say whether upon this matter he would have been\nas convertible as Peel. In any case the general principle of free\ntrade was as fully adopted by Huskisson and Canning as by the\nUtilitarians themselves. The Utilitarians could again claim to be both\nthe inspirers of the first principles, and the most consistent in\ncarrying out the deductions. They, it is true, were not generally\nbiassed by having any interest in rents. They were to be the allies or\nteachers of the manufacturing class which began to be decidedly\nopposed to the squires and the old order.\n\nIn one very important economic question, the Utilitarians not only\napproved a change of the law, but were the main agents in bringing it\nabout. Francis Place was the wire-puller, to whose energy was due the\nabolition of the Conspiracy Laws in 1824. Joseph Hume in the House of\nCommons, and M'Culloch, then editor of the _Scotsman_, had the most\nconspicuous part in the agitation, but Place worked the machinery of\nagitation. The bill passed in 1824 was modified by an act of 1825; but\nthe modification, owing to Place's efforts, was not serious, and the\nact, as we are told on good authority, 'effected a real emancipation,'\nand for the first time established the right of 'collective\nbargaining.'[54] The remarkable thing is that this act, carried on the\nprinciples of 'Radical individualism' and by the efforts of Radical\nindividualists, was thus a first step towards the application to\npractice of socialist doctrine. Place thought that the result of the\nact would be not the encouragement, but the decline, of trades-unions.\nThe unions had been due to the necessity of combining against\noppressive laws, and would cease when those laws were abolished.[55]\nThis marks a very significant stage in the development of economic\nopinion.\n\n\nIV. CHURCH REFORM\n\nThe movement which at this period was most conspicuous politically was\nthat which resulted in Roman Catholic emancipation, and here, too, the\nUtilitarians might be anticipating a complete triumph of their\nprinciples. The existing disqualifications, indeed, were upheld by\nlittle but the purely obstructive sentiment. When the duke of York\nswore that 'so help him God!' he would oppose the change to the last,\nhe summed up the whole 'argument' against it. Canning and Huskisson\nhere represented the policy not only of Pitt, but of Castlereagh. The\nWhigs, indeed, might claim to be the natural representatives of\ntoleration. The church of England was thoroughly subjugated by the\nstate, and neither Whig nor Tory wished for a fundamental change. But\nthe most obvious differentia of Whiggism was a dislike to the\necclesiastical spirit. The Whig noble was generally more or less of a\nfreethinker; and upon such topics Holland House differed little from\nQueen's Square Place, or differed only in a rather stricter reticence.\nBoth Whig and Tory might accept Warburton's doctrine of an 'alliance'\nbetween church and state. The Tory inferred that the church should be\nsupported. His prescription for meeting discontent was 'more yeomanry'\nand a handsome sum for church-building. The Whig thought that the\nchurch got a sufficient return in being allowed to keep its revenues.\nOn the Tory view, the relation might be compared to that of man and\nwife in Christian countries where, though the two are one, the husband\nis bound to fidelity. On the Whig view it was like a polygamous\nsystem, where the wife is in complete subjection, and the husband may\ntake any number of concubines. The Whig noble regarded the church as\nsocially useful, but he was by no means inclined to support its\ninterests when they conflicted with other political considerations. He\nhad been steadily in favour of diminishing the privileges of the\nestablishment, and had taken part in removing the grievances of the\nold penal laws. He was not prepared to uphold privileges which\ninvolved a palpable danger to his order.\n\nThis position is illustrated by Sydney Smith, the ideal divine of\nHolland House. The _Plymley Letters_[56] give his views most pithily.\nSmith, a man as full of sound sense as of genuine humour, appeals to\nthe principles of toleration, and is keenly alive to the absurdity of\na persecution which only irritates without conversion. But he also\nappeals to the danger of the situation. 'If Bonaparte lives,'[57] he\nsays, 'and something is not done to conciliate the Catholics, it seems\nto me absolutely impossible but that we must perish.' We are like the\ncaptain of a ship attacked by a pirate, who should begin by examining\nhis men in the church catechism, and forbid any one to sponge or ram\nwho had not taken the sacrament according to the forms of the church\nof England. He confesses frankly that the strength of the Irish is\nwith him a strong motive for listening to their claims. To talk of\n'not acting from fear is mere parliamentary cant.'[58] Although the\ndanger which frightened Smith was evaded, this was the argument which\nreally brought conviction even to Tories in 1829. In any case the\nWhigs, whose great boast was their support of toleration, would not be\nprompted by any Quixotic love of the church to encounter tremendous\nperils in defence of its privileges.\n\nSmith's zeal had its limits. He observes humorously in his preface\nthat he had found himself after the Reform Bill engaged in the defence\nof the National Church against the archbishop of Canterbury and the\nbishop of London. The letters to Archdeacon Singleton, written when\nthe Whigs were flirting with the Radicals, show how much good an old\nWhig could find in the establishment. This marks the difference\nbetween the true Whig and the Utilitarian. The Whig would not risk the\ncountry for the sake of church; he would keep the clerical power\nstrictly subordinate to the power of the state, but then, when\nconsidered from the political side, it was part of a government system\nproviding him with patronage, and to be guarded from the rude assaults\nof the Radical reformer. The Utilitarian, though for the moment he was\nin alliance with the Whig, regarded the common victory as a step to\nsomething far more sweeping. He objected to intolerance as decidedly\nas the Whig, for absolute freedom of opinion was his most cherished\ndoctrine. He objected still more emphatically to persecution on behalf\nof the church, because he entirely repudiated its doctrines. The\nobjection to spreading true doctrine by force is a strong one, but\nhardly so strong as the objection to a forcible spread of false\ndoctrine. But, besides this, the church represented to the Utilitarian\nprecisely the very worst specimen of the corruptions of the time. The\nCourt of Chancery was bad enough, but the whole ecclesiastical system\nwith its vast prizes,[59] its opportunities for corrupt patronage, its\npluralism and non-residence was an evil on a larger scale. The\nRadical, therefore, unlike the Whig, was an internecine enemy of the\nwhole system. The 'church of England system,' as Bentham calmly\nremarks, is 'ripe for dissolution.'[60] I have already noticed his\nquaint proposal for giving effect to his views. Mill, in the\n_Westminster Review_, denounced the church of England as the worst of\nall churches.[61] To the Utilitarian, in short, the removal of the\ndisqualification of dissenters and Catholics was thus one step to the\nconsummation which their logic demanded--the absolute disestablishment\nand disendowment of the church. Conservatives in general anticipated\nthe confiscation of church revenues as a necessary result of reform;\nand so far as the spirit of reformers was represented by the\nUtilitarians and their Radical allies, they had good grounds for the\nfear. James Mill's theory is best indicated by a later article\npublished in the _London Review_ of July 1835. After pointing out that\nthe church of England retains all the machinery desired for supporting\npriests and preventing the growth of intellect and morality, he\nproceeds to ask what the clergy do for their money. They read prayers,\nwhich is a palpable absurdity; they preach sermons to spread\nsuperstitious notions of the Supreme Being, and perform\nceremonies--baptism, and so forth--which are obviously silly. The\nchurch is a mere state machine worked in subservience to the sinister\ninterest of the governing classes. The way to reform it would be to\nequalise the pay: let the clergy be appointed by a 'Minister of Public\nInstruction' or the county authorities; abolish the articles, and\nconstitute a church 'without dogmas or ceremonies'; and employ the\nclergy to give lectures on ethics, botany, political economy, and so\nforth, besides holding Sunday meetings, dances (decent dances are to\nbe specially invented for the purpose), and social meals, which would\nbe a revival of the 'agapai' of the early Christians. For this\npurpose, however, it might be necessary to substitute tea and coffee\nfor wine. In other words, the church is to be made into a popular\nLondon University. The plan illustrates the incapacity of an isolated\nclique to understand the real tone of public opinion. I need not\npronounce upon Mill's scheme, which seems to have some sense in it,\nbut one would like to know whether Newman read his article.\n\n\nV. SINISTER INTERESTS\n\nIn questions of foreign policy, of law reform, of political economy,\nand of religious tests, the Utilitarians thus saw the gradual\napproximation to their most characteristic views on the part of the\nWhigs, and a strong infiltration of the same views among the less\nobstructive Tories. They held the logical creed, to which others were\nslowly approximating, either from the force of argument or from the\ngreat social changes which were bringing new classes into political\npower. The movement for parliamentary reform which for a time\novershadowed all other questions might be regarded as a corollary from\nthe position already won. Briefly, it was clear that a new social\nstratum was exercising a vast influence; the doctrines popular with it\nhad to be more or less accepted; and the only problem worth\nconsideration by practical men was whether or not such a change should\nbe made in the political machinery as would enable the influence to be\nexercised by direct and constitutional means. To the purely\nobstructive Tory parliamentary reform was a step to the general\ncataclysm. The proprietor of a borough, like the proprietor of a\nchurch patronage or commission in the army, had a right to his votes,\nand to attack his right was simply confiscation of private property.\nThe next step might be to confiscate his estate. But even the more\nintelligent Conservative drew the line at such a measure. Canning,\nHuskisson, and even Peel might accept the views of the Utilitarians in\nregard to foreign policy, to law reform, to free trade, or the removal\nof religious tests, declaring only that they were obeying 'experience'\ninstead of logic, and might therefore go just as far as they pleased.\nBut they were all pledged to resist parliamentary reform to the\nutmost. Men thoroughly steeped in official life, and versed in the\nactual working of the machinery, were naturally alive to the magnitude\nof the change to be introduced. They saw with perfect clearness that\nit would amount to a revolution. The old system in which the ruling\nclasses carried on business by family alliances and bargains between\nministers and great men would be impracticable. The fact that so much\nhad been done in the way of concession to the ideas of the new classes\nwas for them an argument against the change. If the governing classes\nwere ready to reform abuses, why should they be made unable to govern?\nA gradual enfranchisement of the great towns on the old system might\nbe desirable. Such a man as Huskisson, representing great commercial\ninterests, could not be blind to the necessity. But a thorough\nreconstruction was more alarming. As Canning had urged in a great\nspeech at Liverpool, a House of Commons, thoroughly democratised,\nwould be incompatible with the existence of the monarchy and the\nHouse of Lords. So tremendously powerful a body would reduce the other\nparts of the constitution to mere excrescences, feeble drags upon the\nnew driving-wheel in which the whole real force would be concentrated.\n\nThat this expressed, in point of fact, a serious truth, was, I take\nit, undeniable. The sufficient practical answer was, that change was\ninevitable. To refuse to adapt the constitutional machinery to the\naltered political forces was not to hinder their growth, but to make a\nrevolution necessary. When, accordingly, the excluded classes began\nseriously to demand admission, the only question came to lie between\nviolent and peaceable methods. The alarm with which our fathers\nwatched the progress of the measure may seem to us exaggerated, but\nthey scarcely overestimated the magnitude of the change. The old\nrulers were taking a new partner of such power, that whatever\nauthority was left to them might seem to be left on sufferance. As\nsoon as he became conscious of his strength, they would be reduced to\nnonentities. The Utilitarians took some part in the struggle, and\nwelcomed the victory with anticipations destined to be, for the time\nat least, cruelly disappointed. But they were still a small minority,\nwhose views rather scandalised the leaders of the party with which\nthey were in temporary alliance. The principles upon which they based\ntheir demands, as formulated by James Mill, looked, as we shall see,\nfar beyond the concessions of the moment.\n\nOne other political change is significant, though I am unable to give\nan adequate account of it. Bentham's denunciation of 'sinister\ninterests'--one of his leading topics--corresponds to the question of\nsinecures, which was among the most effective topics of Radical\ndeclamation. The necessity of limiting the influence of the crown and\nexcluding 'placemen' from the House of Commons had been one of the\ntraditional Whig commonplaces, and a little had been done by Burke's\nact of 1782 towards limiting pensions and abolishing obsolete offices.\nWhen English Radicalism revived, the assault was renewed in parliament\nand the press. During the war little was achieved, though a revival of\nthe old complaints about placemen in parliament was among the first\nsymptoms of the rising sentiment. In 1812 an attack was made upon the\n'tellers of the Exchequer.' Romilly[62] says that the value of one of\nthese offices had risen to L26,000 or L27,000 a year. The income came\nchiefly from fees, and the actual work, whatever it was, was done by\ndeputy. The scandal was enormous at a time when the stress upon the\nnation was almost unbearable. One of the tellerships was held by a\nmember of the great Grenville family, who announced that they regarded\nthe demand for reform as a personal attack upon them. The opposition,\ntherefore, could not muster even its usual strength, and the motion\nfor inquiry was rejected. When the war was over, even the government\nbegan to feel that something must be done. In 1817 some acts were\npassed[63] abolishing a variety of sinecure offices and 'regulating\ncertain offices in the Court of Exchequer.' The Radicals considered\nthis as a mere delusion, because it was provided at the same time that\npensions might be given to persons who had held certain great offices.\nThe change, however, was apparently of importance as removing the\nchief apology for sinecures, and the system with modifications still\nremains. The marquis of Camden, one of the tellers of the Exchequer,\nvoluntarily resigned the fees and accepted only the regular salary of\nL2500. His action is commended in the _Black Book_,[64] which\nexpresses a regret that the example had not been followed by other\ngreat sinecurists. Public opinion was beginning to be felt. During the\nsubsequent period the cry against sinecures became more emphatic. The\n_Black Book_, published originally in 1820 and 1823, and afterwards\nreissued, gave a list, so far as it could be ascertained, of all\npensions, and supplied a mass of information for Radical orators. The\namount of pensions is stated at over L1,000,000, including sinecure\noffices with over L350,000 annually;[65] and the list of offices\n(probably very inaccurate in detail) gives a singular impression of\nthe strange ramifications of the system. Besides the direct pensions,\nevery new department of administration seems to have suggested the\nfoundation of offices which tended to become sinecures. The cry for\n'retrenchment' was joined to the cry for reform.[66] Joseph Hume, who\nfirst entered parliament in 1818, became a representative of the\nUtilitarian Radicalism, and began a long career of minute criticism\nwhich won for him the reputation of a stupendous bore, but helped to\nkeep a steady pressure upon ministers.[67] Sir James Graham\n(1792-1861) was at this time of Radical tendencies, and first made\nhimself conspicuous by demanding returns of pensions.[68] The\nsettlements of the civil lists of George IV., William IV., and\nVictoria, gave opportunities for imposing new restrictions upon the\npension system. Although no single sweeping measure was passed, the\nwhole position was changed. By the time of the Reform Bill, a sinecure\nhad become an anachronism. The presumption was that whenever an\nopportunity offered, it would be suppressed. Some of the sinecure\noffices in the Court of Chancery, the 'Keeper of the Hanaper,' the\n'Chaffwax,' and so forth, were abolished by an act passed by the\nparliament which had just carried the Reform Bill.[69] In 1833 a\nreform of the system of naval administration by Sir James Graham got\nrid of some cumbrous machinery; and Graham again was intrusted in 1834\nwith an act under which the Court of Exchequer was finally reformed,\nand the 'Clerk of the Pells' and the 'Tellers of the Exchequer' ceased\nto exist.[70] Other offices seem to have melted away by degrees,\nwhenever a chance offered.\n\nMany other of the old abuses had ceased to require any special\ndenunciations from political theorists. The general principle was\nestablished, and what remained was to apply it in detail. The prison\nsystem was no longer in want of a Howard or a Bentham. Abuses remained\nwhich occupied the admirable Mrs. Fry; and many serious difficulties\nhad to be solved by a long course of experiment. But it was no longer\na question whether anything should be doing, but of the most\nefficient means of bringing about an admittedly desirable end. The\nagitation for the suppression of the slave-trade again had been\nsucceeded by the attack upon slavery. The system was evidently doomed,\nalthough not finally abolished till after the Reform Bill; and\nministers were only considering the question whether the abolition\nshould be summary or gradual, or what compensation might be made to\nvested interests. The old agitation had been remarkable, as I have\nsaid, not only for its end but for the new kind of machinery to which\nit had applied. Popular agitation[71] had taken a new shape. The\ncounty associations formed in the last days of the American war of\nindependence, and the societies due to the French revolution had set a\nprecedent. The revolutionary societies had been suppressed or had died\nout, as opposed to the general spirit of the nation, although they had\ndone a good deal to arouse political speculation. In the period of\ndistress which followed the war the Radical reformers had again held\npublic meetings, and had again been met by repressive measures. The\nacts of 1817 and 1819[72] imposed severe restrictions upon the right\nof public meeting. The old 'county meeting,' which continued to be\ncommon until the reform period, and was summoned by the\nlord-lieutenant or the sheriff on a requisition from the freeholders,\nhad a kind of constitutional character, though I do not know its\nhistory in detail.[73] The extravagantly repressive measures were an\nanachronism, or could only be enforced during the pressure of an\nintense excitement. In one way or other, public meetings were soon\nbeing held as frequently as ever. The trial of Queen Caroline gave\nopportunity for numerous gatherings, and statesmen began to find that\nthey must use instead of suppressing them. Canning[74] appears to have\nbeen the first minister to make frequent use of speeches addressed to\npublic meetings; and meetings to which such appeals were addressed\nsoon began to use their authority to demand pledges from the\nspeakers.[75] Representation was to be understood more and more as\ndelegation. Meanwhile the effect of public meetings was enormously\nincreased when a general organisation was introduced. The great\nprecedent was the Catholic Association, founded in 1823 by O'Connell\nand Sheil. The peculiar circumstances of the Irish people and their\npriests gave a ready-made machinery for the agitation which triumphed\nin 1829. The Political Union founded by Attwood at Birmingham in the\nsame year adopted the method, and led to the triumph of 1832.\nPolitical combination henceforth took a different shape, and in the\nordinary phrase, 'public opinion' became definitely the ultimate and\nsupreme authority. This enormous change and the corresponding\ndevelopment of the power of the press, which affected to mould and, at\nany rate, expressed public opinion, entirely fell in with Utilitarian\nprinciples. Their part in bringing about the change was of no special\nimportance except in so far as they more or less inspired the popular\norators. They were, however, ready to take advantage of it. They had\nthe _Westminster Review_ to take a place beside the _Edinburgh_ and\n_Quarterly Reviews_, which had raised periodical writing to a far\nhigher position than it had ever occupied, and to which leading\npoliticians and leading authors on both sides had become regular\ncontributors. The old contempt for journalism was rapidly vanishing.\nIn 1825 Canning expresses his regret for having given some information\nto a paper of which an ill use had been made. He had previously\nabstained from all communication with 'these gentry,' and was now\nresolved to have done with _hoc genus omne_ for good and all.[76] In\n1839 we find his former colleague, Lord Lyndhurst, seeking an alliance\nwith Barnes, the editor of the _Times_, as eagerly as though Barnes\nhad been the head of a parliamentary party.[77]\n\nThe newspapers had probably done more than the schools to spread\nhabits of reading through the country. Yet the strong interest which\nwas growing up in educational matters was characteristic. Brougham's\nphrase, 'the schoolmaster is abroad' (29th January 1821), became a\npopular proverb, and rejoiced the worthy Bentham.[78] I have already\ndescribed the share taken by the Utilitarians in the great Bell and\nLancaster controversy. Parliament had as yet done little. A bill\nbrought in by Whitbread had been passed in 1807 by the House of\nCommons, enabling parishes to form schools on the Scottish model, but\naccording to Romilly,[79] it was passed in the well-grounded\nconfidence that it would be thrown out by the peers. A committee upon\neducation was obtained by Brougham after the peace, which reported in\n1818, and which led to a commission upon school endowments. Brougham\nintroduced an education bill in 1820, but nothing came of it. The\nbeginning of any participation by government in national education was\nnot to take place till after the Reform Bill. Meanwhile, however, the\nfoundation of the London University upon unsectarian principles was\nencouraging the Utilitarians; and there were other symptoms of the\ngrowth of enlightenment. George Birkbeck (1776-1841) had started some\npopular lectures upon science at Glasgow about 1800, and having\nsettled as a physician in London, started the 'Mechanics' Institution'\nin 1824. Brougham was one of the first trustees; and the institution,\nthough exposed to a good deal of ridicule, managed to take root and\nbecome the parent of others. In 1827 was started the Society for the\nDiffusion of Useful Knowledge, of which Brougham was president, and\nthe committee of which included James Mill. In the course of its\ntwenty years' existence it published or sanctioned the publication by\nCharles Knight of a great mass of popular literature. The _Penny\nMagazine_ (1832-1845) is said to have had two hundred thousand\nsubscribers at the end of its first year of existence. Crude and\nsuperficial as were some of these enterprises, they clearly marked a\nvery important change. Cobbett and the Radical orators found enormous\naudiences ready to listen to their doctrine. Churchmen and Dissenters,\nTories and Radicals were finding it necessary both to educate and to\ndisseminate their principles by writing; and as new social strata were\nbecoming accessible to such influences, their opinions began to\nexercise in turn a more distinct reaction upon political and\necclesiastical affairs.\n\nNo party felt more confidence at the tendency of this new\nintellectual fermentation than the Utilitarians. They had a definite,\ncoherent, logical creed. Every step which increased the freedom of\ndiscussion increased the influence of the truth. Their doctrines were\nthe truth, if not the whole truth. Once allow them to get a fulcrum\nand they would move the world. Bit by bit their principles of\nlegislation, of economy, of politics were being accepted in the most\ndifferent quarters; and even the more intelligent of their opponents\nwere applying them, though the application might be piecemeal and\nimperfect. It was in vain that an adversary protested that he was not\nbound by logic, and appealed to experience instead of theory. Let him\njustify his action upon what grounds he pleased, he was, in point of\nfact, introducing the leaven of true doctrine, and it might be trusted\nto work out the desirable results.\n\nI must now deal more in detail with the Utilitarian theories. I will\nonly observe in general terms that their triumph was not likely to be\naccepted without a struggle. Large classes regarded them with absolute\nabhorrence. Their success, if they did succeed, would mean the\ndestruction of religious belief, of sound philosophy, of the great\nimportant ecclesiastical and political institutions, and probably\ngeneral confiscation of property and the ruin of the foundations of\nsociety. And, meanwhile, in spite of the progress upon which I have\ndwelt, there were two problems, at least, of enormous importance, upon\nwhich it could scarcely be said that any progress had been made. The\nchurch, in the first place, was still where it had been. No change had\nbeen made in its constitution; it was still the typical example of\ncorrupt patronage; and the object of the hatred of all thoroughgoing\nRadicals. And, in the second place, pauperism had grown to appalling\ndimensions during the war; and no effectual attempt had been made to\ndeal with it. Behind pauperism there were great social questions, the\ndiscontent and misery of great masses of the labouring population.\nWhatever reforms might be made in other parts of the natural order,\nhere were difficulties enough to task the wisdom of legislators and\nspeculators upon legislative principles.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[32] _Life of Macaulay_, p. 114. (Popular Edition).\n\n[33] Canning's _Political Correspondence_, i. 71-76.\n\n[34] 12th December 1826.\n\n[35] Bentham's _Works_, v. p. 370.\n\n[36] Romilly's attempts to improve the criminal law began in 1808. For\nvarious notices of his efforts, see his _Life_ (3 vols. 1860),\nespecially vol. ii. 243-54, 309, 321, 331, 369, 371, 389-91. Romilly\nwas deeply interested in Dumont's _Theorie des Peines Legales_ (1811),\nwhich he read in MS. and tried to get reviewed in the _Quarterly_ (ii.\n258, 391; iii. 136). The remarks (ii. 2-3) on the 'stupid dread of\ninnovation' and the savage spirit infused into Englishmen by the\nhorrors of the French revolution are worth notice in this connection.\n\n[37] Bentham's _Works_, x. p. 574.\n\n[38] Brougham's _Speeches_ (1838), ii. 287-486.\n\n[39] An interesting summary of the progress of law reforms and of\nBentham's share in them is given in Sir R. K. Wilson's _History of\nModern English Law_ (1875).\n\n[40] Bentham's _Works_, x. 571.\n\n[41] In Cambridge Pryme was the first professor in 1828, but had only\nthe title without endowment. The professorship was only salaried in\n1863.\n\n[42] Ricardo's _Works_ (1888), p. 407.\n\n[43] Printed in Porter's _Progress of the Nation_ and elsewhere.\n\n[44] See sixth volume of _History of Prices_ by Tooke and Newmarch,\nand privately printed _Minutes of Political Economy Club_ (1882).\n\n[45] _Speeches_, 3 vols. 8vo, 1831.\n\n[46] _Ibid._ ii. 465-530.\n\n[47] _Ibid._ ii. 477.\n\n[48] Bentham's _Works_, ii. 459. We may remember how J. S. Mill in his\nboyhood was abashed because he could not explain to his father the\nforce of the distinction.\n\n[49] _Speeches_, ii. 246, 332.\n\n[50] _Ibid._ i. 102-108 (Currency Pamphlet of 1810).\n\n[51] _Ibid._ ii. 397.\n\n[52] _Speeches_, iii. 257.\n\n[53] Ricardo indeed made a reservation as to the necessity of\ncounterbalancing by a moderate duty the special burthens upon\nagriculture.\n\n[54] In the _History of Trades-Unionism_ by Sidney and Beatrice Webb\n(1894), pp. 88-98. The history of Place's agitation is fully given in\nMr. Graham Wallas's _Life_, chap. viii.\n\n[55] Wallas's Francis _Place_, p. 217.\n\n[56] First published in 1807-8.\n\n[57] _Letter_ iii.\n\n[58] _Ibid._ vi.\n\n[59] Sydney Smith put very ingeniously the advantages of what he\ncalled the 'lottery' system: of giving, that is, a few great prizes,\ninstead of equalising the incomes of the clergy. Things look so\ndifferent from opposite points of views.\n\n[60] _Church of Englandism_, ii. 199.\n\n[61] See especially his review of Southey's _Book of the Church_.\n\n[62] Romilly's _Memoirs_, iii. 33.\n\n[63] 57 George III. caps. 60-67.\n\n[64] Edition of 1828, p. 24.\n\n[65] _Ibid._ p. 10.\n\n[66] A Mr. Gray proposed at a county meeting in 1816 that the cry of\n'retrenchment and reform' should be raised in every corner of the\nisland (Henry Jephson's _Platform_, p. 378). I do not know whether\nthis was the first appearance of the formula.\n\n[67] Hume had been introduced to Place by James Mill, who thought him\nworth 'nursing.' Place found him at first 'dull and selfish,' but\n'nursed him' so well that by 1836 he had become the 'man of\nmen,'--Wallas's _Francis Place_, p. 181, 182.\n\n[68] Torrens's _Life of Graham_, i. 250-72, where his great speech of\n14th May 1830 is given.\n\n[69] 2 and 3 William IV. cap. 111 (passed 15 August 1832).\n\n[70] 4 and 5 William IV. cap. 15.\n\n[71] _The Platform, its Origin and Progress_, by Henry Jephson (1892),\ngives a very interesting historical account of the process.\n\n[72] 57 George III. cap. 19, and 60 George III. cap. 6.\n\n[73] See Jephson's _Platform_, pp. 167-70.\n\n[74] See Jephson's _Platform_, i. 348, 455, 517.\n\n[75] See _Ibid._ ii. 129-40 for some interesting passages as to this.\n\n[76] _Official Correspondence_ (1887), 308.\n\n[77] Greville's _George IV. and William IV._, iii. 155, 167-69, 171.\n\n[78] Bentham's _Works_, x. 571.\n\n[79] Romilly's _Memoirs_, ii. 67, 222.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nPOLITICAL THEORY\n\n\nI. MILL ON GOVERNMENT\n\nI now turn to the general political theory of which Mill was the\nauthoritative exponent. The _Encyclopaedia_ article upon 'Government'\n(1820) gives the pith of their doctrine. It was, as Professor Bain[80]\nthinks, an 'impelling and a guiding force' in the movement which\nculminated in the Reform Bill. The younger Utilitarians regarded it,\nsays J. S. Mill, as 'a masterpiece of political wisdom';[81] while\nMacaulay[82] taunts them for holding it to be 'perfect and\nunanswerable.' This famous article is a terse and energetic summary of\nthe doctrine implied in Bentham's _Works_, but there obscured under\nelaboration of minute details. It is rather singular, indeed, that so\nvigorous a manifesto of Utilitarian dogma should have been accepted by\nMacvey Napier--a sound Whig--for a publication which professed\nscientific impartiality. It has, however, in the highest degree, the\nmerits of clearness and condensation desirable in a popular\nexposition. The reticence appropriate to the place excuses the\nomission of certain implicit conclusions. Mill has to give a complete\ntheory of politics in thirty-two 8vo pages. He has scanty room for\nqualifying statement or historical illustration. He speaks as from the\nchair of a professor laying down the elementary principles of a\ndemonstrated science.[83]\n\nMill starts from the sacred principle. The end of government, as the\nend of all conduct, must be the increase of human happiness. The\nprovince of government is limited by another consideration. It has to\ndeal with one class of happiness, that is, with the pains and\npleasures 'which men derive from one another.' By a 'law of nature'\nlabour is requisite for procuring the means of happiness. Now, if\n'nature' produced all that any man desired, there would be no need of\ngovernment, for there would be no conflict of interest. But, as the\nmaterial produced is finite, and can be appropriated by individuals,\nit becomes necessary to insure to every man his proper share. What,\nthen, is a man's proper share? That which he himself produces; for, if\nyou give to one man more than the produce of his labour, you must take\naway the produce of another man's labour. The greatest happiness,\ntherefore, is produced by 'assuring to every man the greatest possible\nquantity of the produce of his own labour.' How can this be done?\nWill not the strongest take the share of the weakest? He can be\nprevented in one and apparently only in one way. Men must unite and\ndelegate to a few the power necessary for protecting all. 'This is\ngovernment.'[84]\n\nThe problem is now simple. Government is essentially an association\nof men for the protection of property. It is a delegation of the\npowers necessary for that purpose to the guardians, and 'all the\ndifficult questions of government relate to the means' of preventing\nthe guardians from themselves becoming plunderers.\n\nHow is this to be accomplished? The power of protection, says Mill,\nfollowing the old theory, may be intrusted to the whole community, to\na few, or to one; that is, we may have a democracy, an aristocracy, or\na monarchy. A democracy, or direct government of all by all, is for\nthe ordinary reasons pronounced impracticable. But the objections to\nthe other systems are conclusive. The need of government, he has\nshown, depends upon 'the law of human nature'[85] that 'a man, if\nable, will take from others anything which they have and he desires.'\nThe very principle which makes government necessary, therefore, will\nprompt a government to defeat its own proper end. Mill's doctrine is\nso far identical with the doctrine of Hobbes; men are naturally in a\nstate of war, and government implies a tacit contract by which men\nconfer upon a sovereign the power necessary for keeping the peace. But\nhere, though admitting the force of Hobbes's argument, he diverges\nfrom its conclusion. If a democracy be impossible, and an aristocracy\nor monarchy necessarily oppressive, it might seem, he admits, as it\nactually seemed to Hobbes and to the French economists, that the fewer\nthe oppressors the better, and that therefore an absolute monarchy is\nthe best. Experience, he thinks, is 'on the surface' ambiguous.\nEastern despots and Roman emperors have been the worst scourges to\nmankind; yet the Danes preferred a despot to an aristocracy, and are\nas 'well governed as any people in Europe.' In Greece, democracy, in\nspite of its defects, produced the most brilliant results.[86] Hence,\nhe argues, we must go 'beyond the surface,' and 'penetrate to the\nsprings within.' The result of the search is discouraging. The hope of\nglutting the rulers is illusory. There is no 'point of saturation'[87]\nwith the objects of desire, either for king or aristocracy. It is a\n'grand governing law of human nature' that we desire such power as\nwill make 'the persons and properties of human beings subservient to\nour pleasures.'[88] This desire is indefinitely great. To the number\nof men whom we would force into subservience, and the degree in which\nwe would make them subservient, we can assign no limits. Moreover, as\npain is a more powerful instrument for securing obedience than\npleasure, a man will desire to possess 'unlimited power of inflicting\npain upon others.' Will he also desire, it may be asked, to make use\nof it? The 'chain of inference,' he replies, in this case is close and\nstrong 'to a most unusual degree.' A man desires the actions of others\nto be in correspondence with his own wishes. 'Terror' will be the\n'grand instrument.'[89] It thus follows that the very principle upon\nwhich government is founded leads, in the absence of checks, 'not only\nto that degree of plunder which leaves the members (of a community)\n... the bare means of subsistence, but to that degree of cruelty which\nis necessary to keep in existence the most intense terror.' An English\ngentleman, he says, is a favourable specimen of civilisation, and yet\nWest Indian slavery shows of what cruelty he could be guilty when\nunchecked. If equal cruelty has not been exhibited elsewhere, it is,\nhe seems to think, because men were not 'the same as sheep in respect\nto their shepherd,'[90] and may therefore resist if driven too far.\nThe difficulty upon this showing is to understand how any government,\nexcept the most brutal tyranny, ever has been, or ever can be,\npossible. What is the combining principle which can weld together such\na mass of hostile and mutually repellent atoms? How they can even form\nthe necessary compact is difficult to understand, and the view seems\nto clash with his own avowed purpose. It is Mill's aim, as it was\nBentham's, to secure the greatest happiness of the greatest number;\nand yet he seems to set out by proving as a 'law of human nature' that\nnobody can desire the happiness of any one except himself. He quotes\nfrom Montesquieu the saying, which shows an 'acute sense of this\nimportant truth,' 'that every one who has power is led to abuse\nit.'[91] Rather it would seem, according to Mill, all power implies\nabuse in its very essence. The problem seems to be how to make\nuniversal cohesion out of universal repulsion.\n\nMill has his remedy for this deeply seated evil. He attacks, as\nBentham had already done, the old-fashioned theory, according to which\nthe British Constitution was an admirable mixture of the three 'simple\nforms.' Two of the powers, he argues, will always agree to 'swallow up\nthe third.'[92] 'The monarchy and aristocracy have all possible\nmotives for endeavouring to obtain unlimited power over the persons\nand property of the community,' though the democracy, as he also says,\nhas every possible motive for preventing them. And in England, as he\nno doubt meant his readers to understand, the monarchy and aristocracy\nhad to a great extent succeeded. Where, then, are we to look? To the\n'grand discovery of modern times,' namely, the representative system.\nIf this does not solve all difficulties we shall be forced to the\nconclusion that good government is impossible. Fortunately, however,\nthe representative system may be made perfectly effective. This\nfollows easily. It would, as he has said,[93] be a 'contradiction in\nterms' to suppose that the community at large can 'have an interest\nopposite to its interest,' In the Bentham formula, it can have 'no\nsinister interest.' It cannot desire its own misery. Though the\ncommunity cannot act as a whole, it can act through representatives.\nIt is necessary to intrust power to a governing body; but that body\ncan be prevented by adequate checks from misusing its powers. Indeed,\nthe common theory of the British Constitution was precisely that the\nHouse of Commons was 'the checking body.'[94] The whole problem is to\nsecure a body which shall effectively discharge the function thus\nattributed in theory to the House of Commons. That will be done when\nthe body is chosen in such a way that its interests are necessarily\ncoincident with those of the community at large. Hence there is of\ncourse no difficulty in deducing the actual demands of reformers.\nWithout defining precise limits, he shows that representatives must be\nelected for brief periods, and that the right to a vote must at least\nbe wide enough to prevent the electoral body from forming a class with\n'sinister interests.' He makes some remarkable qualifications, with\nthe view apparently of not startling his readers too much by absolute\nand impracticable claims. He thinks that the necessary identity of\ninterest would still be secured if classes were unrepresented whose\ninterests are 'indisputably included in those of others.' Children's\ninterests are involved in those of their parents, and the interests of\n'almost all women' in those of their fathers or husbands.[95] Again,\nall men under forty might be omitted without mischief, for 'the great\nmajority of old men have sons whose interests they regard as an\nessential part of their own. This is a law of human nature.'[96] There\nwould, he observes, be no danger that men above forty would try to\nreduce the 'rest of the community to the state of abject slaves.'\nMill, as his son tells us,[97] disowned any intention of positively\nadvocating these exclusions. He only meant to say that they were not\ncondemned by his general principle. The doctrine, however, about\nwomen, even as thus understood, scandalised his younger followers.\n\nMill proceeds to argue at some length that a favourite scheme of some\nmoderate reformers, for the representation of classes, could only lead\nto 'a motley aristocracy,' and then answers two objections. The first\nis that his scheme would lead to the abolition of the monarchy and the\nHouse of Lords. The reply is simple and significant. It would only\nlead to that result if a monarchy or a House of Lords were favourable\nto bad government. He does not inquire whether they are so in fact.\nThe second objection is that the people do not understand their own\ninterest, and to this his answer is more remarkable. If the doctrine\nbe true, he says, we are in 'deplorable' position: we have to choose\nbetween evils which will be designedly produced by those who have both\nthe power to oppress and an interest in oppression; and the evils\nwhich will be accidentally produced by men who would act well if they\nrecognised their own interests.[98] Now the first evil is in any case\nthe worst, for it supposes an 'invariable' evil; while in the other\ncase, men may at least act well by accident. A governing class, that\nis with interests separate from those of the government, _must_ be\nbad. If the interests be identical, the government _may_ be bad. It\nwill be bad if ignorant, but ignorance is curable. Here he appeals for\nonce to a historical case. The priesthood at the Reformation argued on\nbehalf of their own power from the danger that the people would make a\nbad use of the Bible. The Bible should therefore be kept for the\nsacred caste. They had, Mill thinks, a stronger case in appearance\nthan the Tories, and yet the effect of allowing the people to judge\nfor themselves in religious matters has been productive of good\neffects 'to a degree which has totally altered the condition of human\nnature.'[99] Why should not the people be trusted to judge for\nthemselves in politics? This implies a doctrine which had great\ninfluence with the Utilitarians. In the remarkable essay upon\n'Education,' which is contained in the volume of reprints, Mill\ndiscusses the doctrine of Helvetius that all the differences between\nmen are due to education. Without pronouncing positively upon the\ndifferences between individuals, Mill observes that, at any rate, the\nenormous difference between classes of men is wholly due to\neducation.[100] He takes education, it must be observed, in the widest\npossible sense, as meaning what would now be called the whole action\nof the 'environment' upon the individual. This includes, as he shows\nat length, domestic education, all the vast influence exercised upon a\nchild in his family, 'technical education,' by which he means the\nordinary school teaching, 'social education,' that is the influences\nwhich we imbibe from the current opinions of our neighbours, and\nfinally, 'political education,' which he calls the 'keystone of the\narch.' The means, he argues, by which the 'grand objects of desire may\nbe attained, depend almost wholly upon the political machine.'[101] If\nthat 'machine' be so constituted as to make the grand objects of\ndesire the 'natural prizes of just and virtuous conduct, of high\nservices to mankind and of the generous and amiable sentiments from\nwhich great endeavours in the service of mankind naturally proceed, it\nis natural to see diffused among mankind a generous ardour in the\nacquisition of those admirable qualities which prepare a man for\nadmirable action, great intelligence, perfect self-command, and\nover-ruling benevolence.' The contrary will be the case where the\npolitical machine prompts to the flattery of a small ruling body.\n\nThis characteristic passage betrays an enthusiasm which really burned\nunder Mill's stern outside. He confines himself habitually to the\nforms of severe logic, and scorns anything like an appeal to\nsentiment. The trammels of his scientific manner impede his utterance\na little, even when he is speaking with unwonted fervour. Yet the\nprosaic Utilitarian who has been laying down as a universal law that\nthe strong will always plunder the weak, and that all rulers will\nreduce their subjects to abject slavery, is absolutely convinced, it\nseems, of the possibility of somehow transmuting selfishness into\npublic spirit, justice, generosity, and devotion to truth. Equally\ncharacteristic is the faith in the 'political machine.' Mill speaks as\nif somebody had 'discovered' the representative system as Watt (more\nor less) discovered the steam-engine; that to 'discover' the system is\nthe same thing as to set it to work; and that, once at work, it will\nbe omnipotent. He is not less certain that a good constitution will\nmake men virtuous, than was Bentham that he could grind rogues honest\nby the Panopticon. The indefinite modifiability of character was the\nground upon which the Utilitarians based their hopes of progress; and\nit was connected in their minds with the doctrine of which his essay\nupon education is a continuous application. The theory of 'association\nof ideas' appeared to him to be of the utmost importance in education\nand in politics, because it implied almost unlimited possibilities of\nmoulding human beings to fit them for a new order. In politics this\nimplied, as J. S. Mill says,[102] 'unbounded confidence' in the\ninfluence of 'reason.' Teach the people and let them vote freely, and\neverything would follow.\n\nThis gives Mill's answer to one obvious objection. The Conservative\nwho answered him by dwelling upon the ignorance of the lower classes\nwas in some respects preaching to a convert. Nobody was more\nconvinced than Mill of the depths of popular ignorance or, indeed, of\nthe stupidity of mankind in general. The labourers who cheered Orator\nHunt at Peterloo were dull enough; but so were the peers who cheered\nEldon in the House of Lords; and the labourers at least desired\ngeneral prosperity, while the peers were content if their own rents\nwere kept up. With general education, however, even the lower orders\nof the people would be fit for power, especially when we take into\naccount one other remarkable conclusion. The 'wise and good,' he says,\n'in any class of men do, for all general purposes, govern the\nrest.'[103] Now, the class in which wisdom and virtue are commonest is\nnot the aristocracy, but the middle rank. Another truth follows 'from\nthe principles of human nature in general.' That is the rather\nsurprising truth that the lower orders take their opinions from the\nmiddle class; apply to the middle class for help in sickness and old\nage; hold up the same class as a model to be imitated by their\nchildren, and 'account it an honour' to adopt its opinions.\nConsequently, however far the franchise were extended, it is this\nclass which has produced the most distinguished ornaments of art,\nscience, and even of legislation, which will ultimately decide upon\npolitical questions. 'The great majority of the people,' is his\nconcluding sentence, 'never cease to be guided by that rank; and we\nmay with some confidence challenge the adversaries of the people to\nproduce a single instance to the contrary in the history of the\nworld.'\n\nThis article upon 'Government' gives the very essence of Utilitarian\npolitics. I am afraid that it also suggests that the political theory\nwas chiefly remarkable for a simple-minded audacity. Good political\ntreatises are rare. They are apt to be pamphlets in disguise, using\n'general principles' for showy perorations, or to be a string of\nplatitudes with no definite application to facts. They are fit only\nfor the platform, or only for the professor's lecture-room. Mill's\ntreatise, according to his most famous antagonist, was a mere bundle\nof pretentious sophistry.\n\nMacaulay came forth like a Whig David to slay the Utilitarian Goliath.\nThe _Encyclopaedia_ articles, finished in 1824, were already in\n1825,[104] as Mill says, text-books of the young men at the Cambridge\nUnion. Macaulay, who won his Trinity fellowship in 1824, had there\nargued the questions with his friend Charles Austin, one of Bentham's\nneophytes. In the next year Macaulay made his first appearance as an\nEdinburgh Reviewer; and in 1829 he took the field against Mill. In the\nJanuary number he attacked the essay upon 'Government'; and in two\narticles in the succeeding numbers of the _Review_ replied to a\ndefence made by some Utilitarian in the _Westminster_. Mill himself\nmade no direct reply; and Macaulay showed his gratitude for Mill's\ngenerosity in regard to the Indian appointment by declining to\nrepublish the articles.[105] He confessed to have treated his opponent\nwith a want of proper respect, though he retracted none of his\ncriticisms. The offence had its excuses. Macaulay was a man under\nthirty, in the full flush of early success; nor was Mill's own\ntreatment of antagonists conciliatory. The dogmatic arrogance of the\nUtilitarians was not unnaturally met by an equally arrogant\ncountercheck. Macaulay ridicules the Utilitarians for their claim to\nbe the defenders of the true political faith. He is afraid not of them\nbut of the 'discredit of their alliance'; he wishes to draw a broad\nline between judicious reformers and a 'sect which having derived all\nits influence from the countenance which they imprudently bestowed\nupon it, hates them with the deadly hatred of ingratitude.' No party,\nhe says, was ever so unpopular. It had already disgusted people with\npolitical economy; and would disgust them with parliamentary reform,\nif it could associate itself in public opinion with the cause[106].\nThis was indeed to turn the tables. The half-hearted disciple was\ninsulting the thoroughbred teacher who had borne the heat and burthen\nof the day, and from whom he had learned his own doctrine. Upon this\nand other impertinences--the assertion, for example, that Utilitarians\nwere as incapable of understanding an argument as any 'true blue\nbaronet after the third bottle at a Pitt Club'--it is needless to\ndwell. They illustrate, however, the strong resentment with which the\nUtilitarians were regarded by the classes from whom the Whigs drew\ntheir most cultivated supporters. Macaulay's line of argument will\nshow what was the real conflict of theory.\n\nHis view is, in fact, a long amplification of the charge that Mill was\nadopting a purely _a priori_ method. Mill's style is as dry as Euclid,\nand his arguments are presented with an affectation of logical\nprecision. Mill has inherited the 'spirit and style of the Schoolmen.\nHe is an Aristotelian of the fifteenth century.' He writes about\ngovernment as though he was unaware that any actual governments had\never existed. He deduces his science from a single assumption of\ncertain 'propensities of human nature.'[107] After dealing with Mill's\narguments, Macaulay winds up with one of his characteristic purple\npatches about the method of induction. He invokes the authority of\nBacon--a great name with which in those days writers conjured without\na very precise consideration of its true significance. By Bacon's\nmethod we are to construct in time the 'noble science of politics,'\nwhich is equally removed from the barren theories of Utilitarian\nsophists and the petty craft of intriguing jobbers. The Utilitarians\nare schoolmen, while the Whigs are the true followers of Bacon and\nscientific induction. J. S. Mill admitted within certain limits the\nrelevancy of this criticism, and was led by the reflections which it\nstarted to a theory of his own. Meanwhile, he observes that his father\nought to have justified himself by declaring that the book was not a\n'scientific treatise on politics,' but an 'argument for parliamentary\nreform.'[108] It is not quite easy to see how James Mill could have\nmade such a 'justification' and distinguished it from a recantation.\n\nIf Mill really meant what Macaulay took him to mean, it would be\nsuperfluous to argue the question gravely. The reasoning is only fit,\nlike the reasoning of all Macaulay's antagonists, for the proverbial\nschoolboy. Mill, according to Macaulay, proposes to discover what\ngovernments are good; and, finding that experience gives no clear\nanswer, throws experience aside and appeals to absolute laws of human\nnature. One such 'law' asserts that the strong will plunder the weak.\nTherefore all governments except the representative must be\noppressive, and rule by sheer terror. Mill's very reason for relying\nupon this argument is precisely that the facts contradict it. Some\ndespotisms work well, and some democracies ill; therefore we must\nprove by logic that all despotisms are bad, and all democracies good.\nIs this really Mill's case?\n\nAn answer given by Mill's champion, to which Macaulay replies in his\nlast article, suggests some explanation of Mill's position. Macaulay\nhad paid no attention to one highly important phrase. The terrible\nconsequences which Mill deduces from the selfishness of rulers will\nfollow, he says, 'if nothing checks.'[109] Supplying this\nqualification, as implied throughout, we may give a better meaning to\nMill's argument. A simple observation of experience is insufficient.\nThe phenomena are too complex; governments of the most varying kinds\nhave shown the same faults; and governments of the same kind have\nshown them in the most various degrees. Therefore the method which\nMacaulay suggests is inapplicable. We should reason about government,\nsays Macaulay,[110] as Bacon told us to reason about heat. Find all\nthe circumstances in which hot bodies agree, and you will determine\nthe principle of heat. Find all the circumstances in which good\ngovernments agree, and you will find the principles of good\ngovernment. Certainly; but the process, as Macaulay admits, would be a\nlong one. Rather, it would be endless. What 'circumstances' can be the\nsame in all good governments in all times and places? Mill held in\nsubstance, that we could lay down certain broad principles about\nhuman nature, the existence of which is of course known from\n'experience', and by showing how they would work, if restrained by no\ndistinct checks, obtain certain useful conclusions. Mill indicates\nthis line of reply in his own attack upon Mackintosh.[111] There he\nexplains that what he really meant was to set forth a principle\nrecognised by Berkeley, Hume, Blackstone, and, especially, in Plato's\n_Republic_. Plato's treatise is a development of the principle that\n'identity of interests affords the only security for good government.'\nWithout such identity of interest, said Plato, the guardians of the\nflock become wolves. Hume[112] had given a pithy expression of the\nsame view in the maxim 'established,' as he says, 'by political\nwriters,' that in framing the 'checks and controls of the\nconstitution, every man ought to be supposed a knave and to have no\nother end in his actions than private interest.' Mill points this by\nreferring to the 'organs of aristocratical opinion' for the last fifty\nyears. The incessant appeal has been for 'confidence in public men,'\nand confidence is another name for scope for misrule.[113] This, he\nexplains, was what he meant by the statement (which Mackintosh\nconsidered to have been exploded by Macaulay) that every man pursued\nhis own interest.[114] It referred to the class legislation of the\ngreat aristocratic ring: kings, nobles, church, law, and army.\nUtilitarianism, in its political relations, was one continuous warfare\nagainst these sinister 'interests,' The master-evil of the\ncontemporary political state undoubtedly implied a want of\nresponsibility. A political trust was habitually confounded with\nprivate property. Moreover, whatever else may be essential to good\ngovernment, one essential is a strong sense of responsibility in the\ngovernors. That is a very sound principle, though not an axiom from\nwhich all political science can be deduced. If the essay on\n'Government' was really meant as a kind of political Euclid--as a\ndeduction of the best system of government from this single principle\nof responsibility--it was as grotesque as Macaulay asserted. Mill\nmight perhaps have met the criticism by lowering his claims as his son\nsuggests. He certainly managed to express his argument in such terms\nthat it has an uncomfortable appearance of being intended for a\nscientific exposition.\n\nThis deserves notice because the position is characteristic of the\nUtilitarians' method. Their appeals to experience always end by\nabsolute assertions. We shall find the same difficulty in their\neconomic inquiries. When accused, for example, of laying down absolute\nprinciples in such cases, they reply that they are only speaking of\n'tendencies,' and recognise the existence of 'checks.' They treat of\nwhat would be, if certain forces acted without limit, as a necessary\nstep towards discovering what is when the limits exist. They appear to\ntheir opponents to forget the limits in their practical conclusions.\nThis political argument is an instance of the same method. The genesis\nof his theory is plain. Mill's 'government,' like Bentham's, is simply\nthe conception of legal 'sovereignty' transferred to the sphere of\npolitics. Mill's exposition is only distinguished from his master's by\nthe clearness with which he brings out the underlying assumptions. The\nlegal sovereign is omnipotent, for what he declares to be the law is\ntherefore the law. The law is his commands enforced by 'sanctions,'\nand therefore by organised force. The motives for obedience are the\nfear of the gallows on one side, and, on the other, the desire of\nprotection for life and property. Law, again, is the ultimate social\nbond, and can be made at will by the sovereign. He thus becomes so\nomnipotent that it is virtually assumed that he can even create\nhimself. Not only can the sovereign, once constituted, give commands\nenforced by coercive sanctions upon any kind of conduct, but he can\ndetermine his own constitution. He can at once, for example, create a\nrepresentative system in practice, when it has been discovered in\ntheory, and can by judicious regulations so distribute 'self-interest'\nas to produce philanthropy and public spirit. Macaulay's answer really\nmakes a different assumption. He accepts the purely 'empirical' or\n'rule of thumb' position. It is idle, he says, to ask what would\nhappen if there were no 'checks.' It is like leaving out the effect of\nfriction in a problem of mechanics. The logic may be correct, but the\nconclusions are false in practice.[115] Now this 'friction' was\nprecisely the favourite expedient of the Utilitarians in political\neconomy. To reason about facts, they say, you must analyse, and\ntherefore provisionally disregard the 'checks,' which must be\nafterwards introduced in practical applications. Macaulay is really\nbidding us take 'experience' in the lump, and refrains from the only\ntreatment which can lead to a scientific result. His argument, in\nfact, agrees with that of his famous essay on Bacon, where we learn\nthat philosophy applied to moral questions is all nonsense, and that\nscience is simply crude common-sense. He is really saying that all\npolitical reasoning is impossible, and that we must trust to\nunreasoned observation. Macaulay, indeed, has good grounds of\ncriticism. He shows very forcibly the absurdity of transferring the\nlegal to the political sovereignty. Parliament might, as he says, make\na law that every gentleman with L2000 a year might flog a pauper with\na cat-of-nine-tails whenever he pleased. But, as the first exercise of\nsuch a power would be the 'last day of the English aristocracy,' their\npower is strictly limited in fact.[116] That gives very clearly the\ndifference between legal and political sovereignty. What parliament\nmakes law is law, but is not therefore enforceable. We have to go\nbehind the commands and sanctions before we understand what is the\nactual power of government. It is very far from omnipotent. Macaulay,\nseeing this, proceeds to throw aside Mill's argument against the\npossibility of a permanent division of power. The _de facto_\nlimitation of the sovereign's power justifies the old theory about\n'mixed forms of government.' 'Mixed governments' are not impossible,\nfor they are real. All governments are, in fact, 'mixed.' Louis XIV.\ncould not cut off the head of any one whom he happened to dislike. An\noriental despot is strictly bound by the religious prejudices of his\nsubjects. If 'sovereignty' means such power it is a chimera in\npractice, or only realised approximately when, as in the case of negro\nslavery, a class is actually ruled by force in the hands of a really\nexternal power. And yet the attack upon 'mixed governments,' which\nBentham had expounded in the _Fragment_, has a real force which\nMacaulay seems to overlook. Mill's argument against a possible\n'balance' of power was, as Macaulay asserted, equally applicable to\nthe case of independent sovereigns; yet France might be stronger at\nCalais and England at Dover.[117] Mill might have replied that a state\nis a state precisely because, and in so far as, there is an agreement\nto recognise a common authority or sovereign. Government does not\nimply a 'mixture,' but a fusion of power. There is a unity, though not\nthe abstract unity of the Utilitarian sovereign. The weakness of the\nUtilitarians is to speak as though the sovereign, being external to\neach individual, could therefore be regarded as external to the whole\nsociety. He rules as a strong nation may rule a weak dependency. When\nthe sovereign becomes also the society, the power is regarded as\nequally absolute, though now applied to the desirable end of\nmaximising happiness. The whole argument ignores the simple\nconsideration that the sovereign is himself in all cases the product\nof the society over which he rules, and his whole action, even in the\nmost despotic governments, determined throughout by organic instincts,\nexplaining and not ultimately explicable by coercion. Macaulay's\ndoctrine partially recognises this by falling back upon the Whig\ntheory of checks and balances, and the mixture of three mysterious\nentities, monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. But, as Bentham had\nsufficiently shown in the _Fragment_, the theory becomes hopelessly\nunreal when we try to translate it into facts. There are not three\nseparate forces, conflicting like three independent forces, but a\ncomplex set of social institutions bound together into a whole. It is\nimpossible really to regard government as a permanent balance of\nantagonistic forces, confronting each other like the three duellists\nin Sheridan's _Critic_. The practical result of that theory is to\nsubstitute for the 'greatest happiness' principle the vague criterion\nof the preservation of an equilibrium between indefinable forces; and\nto make the ultimate end of government the maintenance as long as\npossible of a balance resting on no ulterior principle, but\nundoubtedly pleasant for the comfortable classes. Nothing is left but\nthe rough guesswork, which, if a fine name be wanted, may be called\nBaconian induction. The 'matchless constitution,' as Bentham calls it,\nrepresents a convenient compromise, and the tendency is to attach\nexaggerated importance to its ostensible terms. When Macaulay\nasserted against Mill[118] that it was impossible to say which\nelement--monarchy, aristocracy, or democracy--had gained strength in\nEngland in the last century, he is obviously looking at the formulae\nand not at the social body behind.\n\nThis leads to considerations really more important than the\nargumentation about _a priori_ and inductive methods. Mill in practice\nknew very well the qualifications necessary before his principles\napplied. He showed it in his Indian evidence; and Place could have\ntold him, had it required telling, that the actual political machinery\nworked by very strange and tortuous methods. Yet he was content to\noverride such considerations when he is expounding his theory, and\nlaid himself open to Macaulay's broad common-sense retort. The nation\nat large cannot, he says, have a 'sinister interest.' It must desire\nlegislation which is beneficial to the whole. This is to make the vast\nassumption that every individual will desire what is good for all, and\nwill be a sufficient judge of what is good. But is it clear that a\nmajority will even desire what is good for the whole? May they not\nwish to sacrifice both other classes and coming generations to their\nown instantaneous advantages? Is it plain that even enlightenment of\nmind would induce a poor man to see his own advantage in the policy\nwhich would in the long run be best for the whole society? You are\nbound, said Macaulay, to show that the poor man will not believe that\nhe personally would benefit by direct plunder of the rich; and indeed\nthat he would not be right in so believing. The nation, no doubt,\nwould suffer, but in the immediate period which alone is contemplated\nby a selfish pauper, the mass of the poor might get more pleasure out\nof confiscation. Will they not, on your own principles, proceed to\nconfiscation? Shall we not have such a catastrophe as the reign of\nterror?\n\nThe Westminster Reviewer retorted by saying that Macaulay prophesied a\nreign of terror as a necessary consequence of an extended franchise.\nMacaulay, skilfully enough, protested against this interpretation. 'We\nsay again and again,' he declares, 'that we are on the defensive. We\ndo not think it necessary to prove that a quack medicine is poison.\nLet the vendor prove it to be sanative. We do not pretend to show that\nuniversal suffrage is an evil. Let its advocates show it to be a\ngood.'[119] Mill rests his whole case upon the selfishness of mankind.\nWill not the selfishness lead the actual majority at a given moment to\nplunder the rich and to disregard the interests of their own\nsuccessors?\n\nMacaulay's declaration that he was only 'upon the defensive' might be\njustifiable in an advocate. His real thought may be inferred from a\nspeech on the charter made in 1842. The chartists' petition of that\nyear had asked for universal suffrage. Universal suffrage, he replies,\nwould be incompatible with the 'institution of property.'[120] If the\nchartists acted upon their avowed principles, they would enforce 'one\nvast spoliation.' Macaulay could not say, of course, what would\nactually result, but his 'guess' was that we should see 'something\nmore horrible than can be imagined--something like the siege of\nJerusalem on a far larger scale.' The very best event he could\nanticipate--'and what must the state of things be, if an Englishman\nand a Whig calls such an event the very best?'--would be a military\ndespotism, giving a 'sort of protection to a miserable wreck of all\nthat immense glory and prosperity.'[121] So in the criticism of Mill\nhe had suggested that if his opponent's principles were correct, and\nhis scheme adopted, 'literature, science, commerce, manufactures'\nwould be swept away, and that a 'few half-naked fishermen would divide\nwith the owls and foxes the ruins of the greatest of European\ncities.'[122]\n\nCarefully as Macaulay guards himself in his articles upon Mill, the\nspeech shows sufficiently what was his 'guess'; that is, his real\nexpectation. This gives the vital difference. What Macaulay professes\nto deduce from Mill's principles he really holds himself, and he holds\nit because he argues, as indeed everybody has to argue, pretty much on\nMill's method. He does not really remain in the purely sceptical\nposition which would correspond to his version of 'Baconian\ninduction.' He argues, just as Mill would have argued, from general\nrules about human nature. Selfish and ignorant people will, he thinks,\nbe naturally inclined to plunder; therefore, if they have power, they\nwill plunder. So Mill had argued that a selfish class would rule for\nits own sinister interests and therefore not for the happiness of the\ngreatest number. The argument is the same, and it is the only line of\nargument which is possible till, if that should ever happen, a genuine\nscience of politics shall have been constituted. The only question is\nwhether it shall take the pomp of _a priori_ speculation or conceal\nitself under a show of 'Baconian induction.'\n\nOn one point they agree. Both Mill and Macaulay profess unbounded\nconfidence in the virtue and wisdom of the middle, that is, of their\nown class. Macaulay hopes for a reform bill which will make the votes\nof the House of Commons 'the express image of the opinion of the\nmiddle orders of Britain.'[123] Mill holds that the middle class will\nretain this moral authority, however widely the franchise be extended;\nwhile Macaulay fears that they will be swamped by its extension to the\nmasses. The reform bill which they joined in supporting was regarded\nby the Radicals as a payment on account; while the Whig hoped that it\nwould be a full and final discharge. The Radical held that no barriers\nagainst democracy were needed; he took for granted that a democracy\nwould find its natural leaders in the educated and intelligent. The\nWhig, to whom such confidence appeared to be altogether misplaced, had\nto find some justification for the 'checks' and 'balances' which he\nthought essential.\n\n\nII. WHIGGISM\n\nI have spoken of Macaulay's articles because they represent the most\npointed conflict between the Utilitarian and the Whig. Macaulay\nbelongs properly to the next generation, but he appeared as the\nmouthpiece of the earlier group of writers who in Mill's time\ndelivered through the _Edinburgh Review_ the true oracles of the Whig\nfaith. Upon that ground Mill had assailed them in his article. Their\ncreed, he said, was a 'see-saw.' The Whigs were aristocrats as much as\nthe Tories. They were simply the 'outs' who hoped to be the 'ins.'\nThey trimmed their sails to catch public opinion, but were careful not\nto drift into the true popular currents. They had no desire to limit\nthe power which they hoped one day to possess. They would attack\nabuses--the slave-trade or the penal laws--to gain credit for\nliberality and enlightenment, when the abuses were such as could be\nremoved without injuring the power of the aristocracy. They could use\n'vague generalities' about liberty and so forth, but only to evade\ndefinite applications. When any measure was proposed which really\nthreatened the power of the privileged classes, they could bring out a\ncontradictory set of fine phrases about Jacobinism and democracy.\nTheir whole argument was a shuffle and they themselves mere selfish\ntrimmers.[124] To this Jeffrey replied (in December 1826) by accepting\nthe position.[125] He pleaded guilty to a love of 'trimming,' which\nmeant a love of the British Constitution. The constitution was a\ncompromise--a balance of opposing forces--and the only question could\nbe whether they were properly balanced. The answer was fair enough.\nMill was imputing motives too easily, and assuming that the Reviewers\nsaw the abuses in the same light as he did, and were truckling to\npublic robbers in hopes of sharing the plunder. He was breaking a\nbutterfly upon a wheel. The Edinburgh Reviewers were not missionaries\nof a creed. They were a set of brilliant young men, to whom the\n_Review_ was at first a mere pastime, occupying such leisure as was\nallowed by their professional pursuits. They were indeed men of\nliberal sympathies, intelligent and independent enough to hold by a\nparty which was out of power. They had read Hume and Voltaire and\nRousseau; they had sat at the feet of Dugald Stewart; and were in\nsympathy with intellectual liberalism. But they were men who meant to\nbecome judges, members of parliament, or even bishops. Nothing in\ntheir social atmosphere had stimulated the deep resentment against\nsocial injustice which makes the fanatic or the enthusiast. We may\ntake as their interpreter the Whig philosopher James Mackintosh\n(1765-1832), a man of wide reading, both in history and philosophy, an\neloquent orator, and a very able writer. Mackintosh, said\nColeridge,[126] is the 'king of the men of talent'; by which was\nintimated that, as a man of talent, he was not, like some people, a\nman of genius. Mackintosh, that is, was a man to accept plausible\nformulae and to make them more plausible; not a man to pierce to the\nheart of things, or reveal fruitful germs of thought. His intellect\nwas judicial; given to compromises, affecting a judicious _via media_,\nand endeavouring to reconcile antagonistic tendencies. Thoroughgoing\nor one-sided thinkers, and Mill in particular, regarded him with\nexcessive antipathy as a typical representative of the opposite\nintellectual tendencies. Mackintosh's political attitude is\ninstructive. At the outbreak of the French revolution he was a\nstruggling young Scot, seeking his fortune in London, just turning\nfrom medicine to the bar, and supporting himself partly by journalism.\nHe became secretary to the Society of the 'Friends of the People,' the\nWhig rival of the revolutionary clubs, and in April 1791 sprang into\nfame by his _Vindiciae Gallicae_. The Whigs had not yet lost the fervour\nwith which they had welcomed the downfall of the Bastille. Burke's\n_Reflections_, the work of a great thinker in a state of irritation\nbordering upon frenzy, had sounded the note of alarm. The revolution,\nas Burke maintained, was in fact the avatar of a diabolic power. It\nmeant an attack upon the very organic principles of society. It\ntherefore implied a complete breach of historical continuity, and a\nwar against the reverence for 'prescription' and tradition which is\nessential to all healthy development. To his extreme opponents the\nsame theory afforded the justification of the revolution. It meant\nthat every institution was to be thrown into the crucible, and a new\nworld to arise governed only by reason. The view very ably defended by\nMackintosh was opposed to both. He looks upon the French revolution as\na more complete application of the principles of Locke and the English\nWhigs of 1688. The revolutionists are, as he urges,[127] applying the\nprinciples which had been worked out by the 'philosophers of Europe'\nduring the preceding century. They were not, as Burke urged,\nrejecting experience for theory. The relation between their doctrine\nand politics is analogous to the relation between geometry and\nmechanics.[128] We are now in the position of a people who should be\nfamiliar with Newton, but in shipbuilding be still on a level with the\nEsquimaux. The 'rights of man' appear to him to mean, not, as Burke\nand Bentham once agreed, a set of 'anarchical fallacies,' but a set of\nfundamental moral principles; and the declaration of them a most wise\nand 'auspicious' commencement of the 'regenerating labours' of the new\nlegislators. The French revolution represented what Somers would now\napprove if he had our advantages.[129] A thoroughgoing change had\nbecome necessary in France. The church, army, and law were now\n'incorrigible.'[130] Burke had seen, in the confiscation of church\nproperty, an attempt to abolish Christianity. To Mackintosh it seemed\nto be a reform justifiable in principle, which, though too roughly\ncarried out, would reduce 'a servile and imperious priesthood to\nhumble utility.'[131] A poor priesthood, indeed, might incline to\npopular superstition. We could console ourselves by reflecting that\nthe power of the church, as a corporation, was broken, and that\ntoleration and philosophy would restrain fanaticism.[132] The\nassignats were still 'almost at par.'[133] The sale of the national\nproperty would nearly extinguish the debt. France had 'renounced for\never the idea of conquest,'[134] and had no temptations to war,\nexcept her colonies. Their commercial inutility and political\nmischievousness had been so 'unanimously demonstrated,' that the\nFrench empire must soon be delivered from 'this cumbrous and\ndestructive appendage.' An armed people, moreover, could never be used\nlike a mercenary army to suppress liberty. There was no danger of\nmilitary despotism, and France would hereafter seek for a pure glory\nby cultivating the arts of peace and extending the happiness of\nmankind.[135]\n\nNo wonder that Mackintosh, with these views, thought that the history\nof the fall of the Bastille would 'kindle in unborn millions the holy\nenthusiasm of freedom';[136] or that, in the early disorders, he saw\ntemporary aberrations of mobs, destined to be speedily suppressed by\nthe true leaders of the revolution. Mackintosh saw, I take it, about\nas far as most philosophers, that is, about as far as people who are\nnot philosophers. He observes much that Burke ought to have\nremembered, and keeps fairly to the philosophical principle which he\nannounces of attributing the revolution to general causes, and not to\nthe schemes of individuals.[137] When assignats became waste paper,\nwhen the guillotine got to work, when the religion of reason was being\nset up against Christianity, when the French were conquering Europe,\nwhen a military despotism was arising, when, in short, it became quite\nclear that the French revolution meant something very different from a\nphilosophical application of the principles of Locke and Adam Smith,\nMackintosh began to see that Burke had not so far missed the mark.\nBurke, before dying, received his penitent opponent at Beaconsfield;\nand in 1800 Mackintosh took the opportunity of publicly declaring that\nhe 'abhorred, abjured, and for ever renounced the French revolution,\nwith its sanguinary history, its abominable principles, and its ever\nexecrable leaders.' He hoped to 'wipe off the disgrace of having been\nonce betrayed into that abominable conspiracy against God and\nman.'[138] In his famous defence of Peltier (1803), he denounced the\nrevolution in a passage which might have been adopted from Burke's\n_Letters on a Regicide Peace_.[139]\n\nIn a remarkable letter to Windham[140] of 1806, Mackintosh gives his\nestimate of Burke, and takes some credit to himself for having\ndiscovered, even in the time of his youthful errors, the consistency\nof Burke's principles, as founded upon an abhorrence of 'abstract\npolitics.'[141] Politics, he now thought, must be made scientific by\nrecognising with Burke the supreme importance of prescription and\nhistoric continuity, and by admitting that the philosophers had not\nyet constructed a science bearing to practical politics the same\nrelation as geometry to mechanics. He applied his theory to the\nquestion of parliamentary reform in the _Edinburgh Review_.[142] Here\nhe accepts the doctrine, criticised by James Mill, that a proper\nrepresentative system must be judged, not, as Mill maintained, solely\nby the identity of its interest with that of the community at large,\nbut by its fitness to give power to different classes. It follows that\nthe landowners, the professional classes, and the populace should all\nbe represented. And he discovers that the variety of the English\nsystem was calculated to secure this end. Though it was only in a few\nconstituencies that the poorest class had a voice, their vote in such\nplaces represented the same class elsewhere. It was as well that there\nshould be some extreme Radicals to speak for the poorest. But he\nthinks that any uniform suffrage would be bad, and that universal\nsuffrage would be the most mischievous of all systems.[143] That would\nmean the swamping of one class by all--a tyranny more oppressive,\nperhaps, than any other tyranny. If one class alone were to be\nrepresented, it should be the favourite middle class, which has the\n'largest share of sense and virtue,' and is most connected in interest\nwith other classes.[144] A legitimate aim of the legislator is,\ntherefore, to prevent an excess of democracy. With Mackintosh it seems\nessential not simply to suppress 'sinister interests,' but to save\nboth the aristocracy and the middle class from being crushed by the\nlower classes. The opposition is vital; and it is plain that the\nargument for the aristocracy, that is, for a system developed from all\nmanner of historical accidents and not evolved out of any simple\nlogical principles, must be defended upon empirical grounds.\n\nMackintosh was in India during the early period of the _Edinburgh\nReview_. Jeffrey, as editor for its first quarter of a century, may be\ntaken more fully to represent its spirit. Jeffrey's trenchant, if not\nswaggering style, covered a very timid, sensitive, and, in some\nrespects, a very conservative temperament. His objection to the 'Lake\nPoets' was the objection of the classical to the romantic school.\nJeffrey's brightness of intellect may justify Carlyle's comparison of\nhim to Voltaire,--only a Voltaire qualified by dislike to men who were\n'dreadfully in earnest.' Jeffrey was a philosophical sceptic; he\ninterpreted Dugald Stewart as meaning that metaphysics, being all\nnonsense, we must make shift with common-sense; and he wrote a\ndissertation upon taste, to prove that there are no rules about taste\nwhatever. He was too genuine a sceptic to sacrifice peace to the\nhopeless search for truth. One of the most striking passages in his\n_Essays_[145] is an attack upon 'perfectibility.' He utterly\ndisbelieves that progress in knowledge will improve morals or diminish\nwar, or cure any of the evils that flesh is heir to. Such a man is not\nof the material of which enthusiastic reformers are made. Throughout\nthe war he was more governed by his fear than by his zeal. He was in\nconstant dread of failure abroad and ruin at home. The _Review_\nprovoked the Tories, and induced them to start its rival, not by\nadvocacy of political principles, but by its despairing view of the\nwar.[146] He was still desiring at that time (1808) to avoid 'party\npolitics' in the narrower sense.\n\nThe political view corresponding to this is given in the articles,\nsome of which (though the authorship was not yet avowed) were assailed\nby Mill in the _Westminster_. In an early article[147] he defends the\nFrench philosophers against the imputation of responsibility for the\nreign of terror. Their excellent and humane doctrines had been\nmisapplied by the 'exasperation' and precipitation of inexperienced\nvoters. His most characteristic article is one published in January\n1810. The failure of the Walcheren expedition had confirmed his\ndisbelief in our military leaders; the rise of English Radicalism, led\nby Burdett in the House of Commons, and Cobbett in the press, the\nwidely spread distress and the severity of oppressive measures, roused\nhis keenest alarm.[148] We are, he declared, between two violent and\npernicious factions--the courtiers of arbitrary power and the\ndemocrats. If the Whig leaders did not first conciliate and then\nrestrain the people, the struggle of the extreme parties would soon\nsweep away the constitution, the monarchy, and the Whig aristocracy by\nwhich that monarchy 'is controlled, confirmed, and exalted above all\nother forms of polity.' Democracy, it was plain, was increasing with\ndangerous rapidity. A third of every man's income was being taken by\ntaxes, and after twenty years' boastful hostility we were left without\na single ally. Considering all this, it seems as though 'the wholesome\ndays of England were numbered,' and we are on the 'verge of the most\ndreadful of all calamities'--a civil war.\n\nJeffrey has learned from Hume that all government is ultimately\nfounded upon opinion. The great thing is to make the action of public\nopinion regular and constituted. The whole machinery of the\nconstitution, he says, is for the express purpose of 'preventing the\nkingly power from dashing itself to pieces against the more radical\npower of the people.'[149] The merit of a representative body is not\nto be tested simply by the goodness of its legislation, but by its\ndiminishing the intensity of the struggle for the supreme power.\nJeffrey in fact is above all preoccupied with the danger of\nrevolution. The popular will is, in fact, supreme; repression may\nforce it into explosion; but by judicious management it may be tamed\nand tempered. Then we need above all things that it should, as he says\nin his reply to Mill (December 1826), give their 'natural and\nwholesome influence to wealth and rank.' The stability of the English\nConstitution depends, as he said in 1810, upon the monarchy and\naristocracy, and their stability on their being the natural growth of\nages and having 'struck their roots deep into every stratum of the\npolitical soil.'\n\nThe Whigs represent the view implied in Macaulay's attack upon\nMill--the view of cultivated men of sense, with their eyes open to\nmany difficulties overlooked by zealots, but far too sceptical and\ndespondent to rouse any enthusiasm or accept any dogmas absolutely. By\nthe time of the Reform Bill the danger was obviously on the side of\ndogged obstructionism, and then the 'middle party,' as Jeffrey calls\nit, inclined towards the Radical side and begged them to join its\nranks and abandon the attempt to realise extreme views. They could\nalso take credit as moderate men do for having all along been in the\nright. But to both extremes, as Jeffrey pathetically complains, they\nappeared to be mere trimmers.[150]\n\nThe Utilitarian held the Whig to be a 'trimmer'; the Whig thought the\nUtilitarian a fanatic; they agreed in holding that the Tory was simply\nstupid. And yet, when we look at the Tory creed, we shall find that\nboth Whig and Utilitarian overlooked some very vital problems. The\nTories of course represent the advocates of strong government; and, as\ntheir opponents held, had no theories--only prejudices. The first\narticle of the creed of an Eldon or a Sidmouth was, 'I believe in\nGeorge III.';--not a doctrine capable of philosophical justification.\nSuch Toryism meant the content of the rich and powerful with the\nsystem by which their power and wealth were guaranteed. Their\ninstincts had been sharpened by the French revolution; and they saw in\nany change the removal of one of the safeguards against a fresh\noutburst of the nether fires. The great bulk of all political opinion\nis an instinct, not a philosophy; and the obstructive Tories\nrepresented little more than class prejudice and the dread of a great\nconvulsion. Yet intelligent Tories were being driven to find some\nreasons for their creed, which the Utilitarians might have considered\nmore carefully.\n\n\nIII. CONSERVATISM\n\nA famous man of letters represents certain tendencies more clearly\nthan the average politician. Robert Southey (1777-1843), the 'ultra\nservile sack-guzzler,' as Bentham pleasantly calls him in 1823,[151]\nwas probably the best abused man, on his own side at least, among\nMill's contemporaries. He was attacked by Mill himself, and savagely\ndenounced by Byron and Hazlitt. He was not only a conspicuous writer\nin the _Quarterly Review_ but, as his enemies thought, a renegade\nbought by pensions. It is, I hope, needless to defend him against this\ncharge. He was simply an impatient man of generous instincts and no\nreflective power, who had in his youth caught the revolutionary fever,\nand, as he grew up, developed the patriotic fever.\n\nLater views are given in the _Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects\nof Society_ (1829), chiefly known to modern readers by one of\nMacaulay's essays. Southey was as assailable as Mill. His political\neconomy is a mere muddle; his political views are obviously distorted\nby accidental prejudices; and the whole book is desultory and\ndisjointed. In a dialogue with the ghost of Sir Thomas More, he takes\nthe opportunity of introducing descriptions of scenery, literary\ndigressions, and quaint illustrations from his vast stores of reading\nto the confusion of all definite arrangement. Southey is in the\nawkward position of a dogmatist defending a compromise. An Anglican\nclaiming infallibility is necessarily inconsistent. His view of\ntoleration, for example, is oddly obscure. He would apparently like to\npersecute infidels;[152] and yet he wishes to denounce the Catholic\nchurch for its persecuting principles. He seems to date the main\nsocial evils to the changes which began at the Reformation, and yet he\nlooks back to the period which succeeded the Reformation as\nrepresenting the ideal state of the British polity. His sympathy with\nthe literature of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries predisposed\nhim to this position. He would have been more intelligible if he had\nbeen more distinctly reactionary. For all that, his views show the\npresence of a leaven which was materially to affect the later\ndevelopment of English opinions. That Jacobinism meant anarchy, and\nthat anarchy led irresistibly to military despotism were propositions\nwhich to him, as to so many others, seemed to be established by the\nFrench revolution. What, then, was the cause of the anarchy? Sir\nThomas More comes from the grave to tell us this, because he had\nwitnessed the past symptoms of the process. The transition from the\nold feudal system to the modern industrial organisation had in his day\nbecome unmistakably developed. In feudal times, every man had his\ndefinite place in society; he was a member of a little group;\nsupported, if controlled and disciplined, by an elaborate system of\nspiritual authority. The Reformation was the period at which the\n'masterless man' made his appearance. The conversion of pastures into\narable land, the growth of commerce and of pauperism, were marks of\nthe coming change. It proceeded quietly for some generations; but the\ndevelopment of the modern manufacturing system represents the\noperation of the same process on a far larger scale, and with far\ngreater intensity. The result may be described by saying that we have\ninstead of a legitimate development a degeneration of society. A vast\npopulace has grown up outside of the old order. It is independent\nindeed, but at the heavy price of being rather an inorganic mass than\na constituent part of the body politic. It is, briefly, to the growth\nof a huge 'proletariate' outside the church, and hostile to the state,\nthat Southey attributes all social evils.\n\nThe view has become familiar enough in various shapes; and in the\nreproaches which Southey brings against the manufacturing system we\nhave an anticipation of other familiar lamentations. Our manufacturing\nwealth is a 'wen,' a 'fungous excrescence from the body politic';[153]\nit is no more a proof of real prosperity than the size of a dropsical\npatient is a proof of health;[154] the manufacturer worships mammon\ninstead of Moloch;[155] and wrings his fortune from the degradation of\nhis labourers as his warlike ancestors wrung wealth from their slaves;\nhe confines children in a tainted atmosphere, physical and moral, from\nmorning till night, and a celebrated minister (Pitt) boasts of this\nvery evil;[156] he treats his fellow-creatures as machines,[157] and\nwealth, though accumulated, is not diffused; the great capitalists,\n'like pikes in a fishpond,' devour the weaker fish;[158] competition\nis not directed to providing the best goods, but the cheapest;[159]\nevery man oppresses his neighbour; the landlord racks his tenant, the\nfarmer grinds the labourer; all the little centres of permanent life\nare broken up; not one man in a thousand is buried with his fathers,\nand the natural ties and domestic affections are prematurely\ndissolved.[160]\n\nHere, too, is to be found the source of the infidel opinions which\ncall for suppression. London is a hotbed of corruption;[161] a centre\nof wealth; and yet, in spite of poor-laws, a place where wretches are\ndying of starvation, and which could collect a mob capable of\nproducing the most appalling catastrophes. In such a place, men become\nunbelievers like savages, because removed from all humanising\ninfluences, and booksellers can carry on a trade in blasphemy.\nInfidelity is bred in 'the filth and corruption of large towns and\nmanufacturing districts.'[162] The disappearance of clerical influence\nhas led to 'a mass of ignorance, vice, and wretchedness which no\ngenerous heart can contemplate without grief.'[163] It is not\nsurprising that, in Southey's opinion, it is doubtful whether the bulk\nof the people has gained or lost in the last thousand years.[164]\nMacaulay takes all this as mere sentimentalism and preference of a\npicturesque outside to solid comfort. But whatever Southey's errors of\nfact, they show at least a deeper insight than his opponent into some\nsocial evils. His proposed remedies explain his diagnosis of the evil.\nIn the first place, it is not surprising, though it surprised\nMacaulay, that he had many sympathies with the socialist, Robert Owen.\nHe saw Owen in 1816,[165] and was much impressed by his views. In the\n_Colloquies_,[166] Owen is called the 'happiest, most beneficent, and\nmost practical of all enthusiasts'; an account is given of one of the\nearliest co-operative schemes,[167] and Southey believes in the\npossibility of the plan. He makes, however, one significant remark.\nOwen, he thinks, could not succeed without enlisting in his support\nsome sectarian zeal. As Owen happened to object to all religious\nsects, this defect could not be remedied.\n\nSouthey, in fact, held that the absence of religious discipline was at\nthe root of the whole evil. Religion, he declares, much to the scorn\nof Macaulay, 'is the basis upon which civil government rests.'[168]\nThere must, as he infers, be an established religion, and the state\nwhich neglects this duty is preparing its own ruin. 'Nothing,' he\ndeclares, 'in abstract science can be more certain than these\npropositions,' though they are denied by 'our professors of the arts\nbabblative and scribblative'--that is, by Benthamites and Whigs. For\nhere, in fact, we come to the irreconcilable difference. Government is\nnot to be a mere machinery for suppressing violence, but an ally of\nthe church in spreading sound religion and morality. The rulers,\ninstead of merely reflecting the popular will, should lead and direct\nall agencies for suppressing vice and misery. Southey, as his son\ntakes pains to show,[169] though he was for upholding authority by the\nmost stringent measures, was convinced that the one way to make\ngovernment strong was to improve the condition of the people. He\nproposed many measures of reform; national education on the\nprinciples, of course, of Dr. Bell; state-aided colonisation and the\ncultivation of waste lands at home; Protestant sisterhoods to\nreproduce the good effects of the old order which he regretted and yet\nhad to condemn on Anglican principles. The English church should have\nmade use of the Wesleyans as the church of Rome had used the\nFranciscans and Dominicans; and his _Life of Wesley_ was prompted by\nhis fond belief that this might yet be done. Government, he said,\nought to be 'paternal';[170] and his leading aspirations have been\nadopted by Socialists on the one hand, and the converts to Catholicism\non the other.\n\nFor his philosophy, Southey was in the habit of referring to\nColeridge; and Coleridge's _Constitution of Church and State_ is\nperhaps the book in which Coleridge comes nearest to bringing an\nargument to a conclusion. Though marked by his usual complexities of\nstyle, his parentheses and irrelevant allusions and glances at wide\nmetaphysical discussions, he succeeds in laying down a sufficient\nsketch of his position. The book was originally published in 1830, and\nrefers to the Catholic emancipation of the previous year. Unlike\nSouthey, he approves of the measure, only regretting the absence of\ncertain safeguards; and his general purpose may be said to be to give\nsuch a theory of the relations of church and state as may justify an\nestablishment upon loftier grounds than those of the commonplace Tory.\n\nHis method, as he explains, is to find the true 'idea' of a\nconstitution and a national church. The 'idea,' he explains, does not\nmean the conscious aim of the persons who founded or now constitute\nthe bodies in question. An 'idea' is the subjective counterpart of an\nobjective law.[171] It corresponds to the vital force which moulds\nthe structure of the social organism, although it may never have been\ndistinctly formulated by any one of the actors. In this sense,\ntherefore, we should have to proceed by a historical method. We should\nstudy the constitution as we study the physiology of a physical\nbody;[172] and he works out the analogy at some length. So far,\nColeridge is expressing the characteristic view that Nature in general\nis to be regarded as an evolution; only that evolution is to be\nunderstood in the sense of Schelling not in the sense of either\nDarwin. Of course, when Coleridge professes to find the 'idea' of the\nchurch and state, what he really finds is not the idea so much as his\nidea of the idea--which may be a very different thing. His theory of\n'evolution' is compatible with assuming that evolutions are\nillegitimate whenever he happens to dislike them.\n\nHe coincides rather curiously with James Mill in asserting that the\n'social bond' was originally formed to protect property, not to\nprotect life.[173] He discovers accordingly that the ancient races,\nJews, Goths, and Kelts alike, divided the land into two parts, one to\nbe inherited by separate families, the other to be set apart for the\nnation. From the latter or the 'nationalty' springs the church\nestablishment. This property belongs rightfully and inalienably to the\nnation itself. It is held by what he calls the 'clerisy.' Its\nfunctions are, in the first place, to provide a career by which the\npoorest classes may rise to a higher position; and secondly, to\nprovide for the development of all the qualities which distinguish\nthe civilised man from the savage.[174] Briefly, then, the church is\nthat part of the national organism which is devoted to educating the\npeople to be 'obedient, free, useful organisable subjects, citizens,\nand patriots, living to the benefit of the estate, and prepared to die\nfor its defence.' Henry viii. would have surpassed Alfred if he had\ndirected the 'nationalty' to its true purposes; that is, especially to\nthe maintenance of universities, of a parochial clergy, and of schools\nin every parish. Unluckily, Henry VIII.'s 'idea' of a national church\nwas vague. Ideas were not his strong point. Coleridge appears to be\nespecially troubled to work the principles into conformity with his\nviews of Catholic emancipation. The peculiarity of the theory is that\nthe church, according to him, seems to be simply a national\ninstitution. It might exist, and in fact, did exist before\nChristianity, as is proved not only by the Jewish but by the Druidical\nchurch.[175] That it should be Christian in England is a 'blessed\naccident,' or 'providential boon'--or, as he puts it, 'most awfully a\ngodsend.' Hence it follows that a primary condition of its utility is\nthat the clerisy should contribute to the support of the other organs\nof the community. They must not be the subjects of a foreign power,\nnor, as he argues at length, subject to the desocialising influence of\ncelibacy. It follows that the Roman church is unfitted to be ever a\nnational church, although, if that danger be sufficiently obviated, no\npolitical disqualifications should be imposed upon Romanists. And\nthus, too, the Church Catholic is essentially a body which has no\nrelations to any particular state. It is opposed to the world, not to\nthe nation, and can have no visible head or 'personal centre of\nunity.'[176] The church which makes such claims is the revelation of\nAntichrist.\n\nWe need not inquire into the prophecies. It is enough to say that to\nColeridge as to Southey the preservation of an established church\nseemed to be an essential condition of morality and civilisation. They\ndiffered from the ordinary Tory, who was content to defend any of the\nabuses by the cry of sacrilege and confiscation. The church was to be\nmade worthy of its position, and rendered capable of discharging its\nhigh functions effectually. Coleridge, it may be said, would fully\nadmit that an organ which had ceased to correspond to its idea must\ndie. It could not continue to preserve itself by mere force of\nobstruction, but must arouse, throw off its abuses, and show itself to\nbe worthy of its high claims. Meanwhile, however, he was perhaps more\nanxious to show the Utilitarians that in assailing the institution on\naccount of its abuses, they were really destroying the most essential\nguarantee of progress. He sums up, in a curious passage, the proofs of\nmodern degradation.[177] The wicked eighteenth century is of course\nresponsible for everything. The 'mechanic corpuscular theory'; the\nconsequent decay of philosophy, illustrated by such phrases as an\nexcellent 'idea' of cooking; 'the ourang-outang theology of the origin\nof the human species substituted for the first ten chapters of the\nbook of Genesis; rights of nature for the duties and privileges of\ncitizens; idealess facts, misnamed proofs from history, for principles\nand the insight derived from them': all these and other calamitous\nresults of modern philosophy are connected with a neglect of the\nwell-being of the people, the mistaking of a large revenue for\nprosperity, and the consumption of gin by paupers to the 'value of\neighteen millions yearly.' He appeals pathetically to the leaders of\nthe Utilitarians. They will scorn him for pronouncing that a 'natural\nclerisy' is 'an essential element of a rightly constituted nation.'\nAll their tract societies and mechanics' institutes and 'lecture\nbazaars under the absurd name of universities' are 'empiric specifics'\nwhich feed the disease. Science will be plebified, not popularised.\nThe morality necessary for a state 'can only exist for the people in\nthe form of religion. But the existence of a true philosophy, or the\npower and habit of contemplating particulars in the unity and fontal\nmirror of the idea,--this in the rulers and teachers of a nation is\nindispensable to a sound state of religion in all classes. In fact,\nreligion, true or false, is and ever has been the centre of gravity in\na realm to which all other things must and will accommodate\nthemselves.'\n\nThe existence of the eighteenth century always remained a hopeless\npuzzle for Coleridge and his followers. Why at that period everything\nwent wrong in the higher regions of thought remained a mystery. 'God\nis above,' says Sir Thomas More to Southey,[178] 'but the devil is\nbelow; evil principles are in their nature more active than good.' The\ndevil seemed to have got into the upper air, and was working with his\nallies, Bentham and Mill and Paine and Cobbett, with remarkable\nsuccess. But, whatever the theories of conservatives in church and\nstate, the fact that the theories were held is important. The\ndiametrical opposition between two schools, one of which regarded the\nchurch as a simple abuse, and its doctrines as effete superstitions,\nwhile the other looked to the church and its creed as giving the sole\nhope for suppressing the evil principle, was a critical point in later\nmovements, political as well as religious.\n\n\nIV. SOCIALISM\n\nI have spoken of Southey's sympathy for Robert Owen. Owen (1771-1858)\nis one of the characteristic figures of the time. He was the son of a\nvillage tradesman in Wales, and had risen to prosperity by the\nqualities of the virtuous apprentice. Industry, patience, an\nimperturbably good temper, and sagacity in business matters had raised\nhim to high position as a manufacturer at the time of the rapid\nadvance of the cotton trade. Many poor men have followed the same path\nto wealth. Owen's peculiarity was that while he became a capitalist he\npreserved his sympathy with the working classes. While improving\nmachinery, he complained that the 'living machinery' was neglected.\nOne great step in his career was his marriage to the daughter of David\nDale of New Lanark, a religious and worthy manufacturer.[179] Dale had\nemployed a number of pauper children who were in that day to be\ndisposed of by their parishes; and had done his best to make their\nposition more tolerable. Owen took up this scheme, and carried it out\nmore systematically. New Lanark, in his hands, became a model village;\nhe provided in various ways for the encouragement of sobriety,\nindustry, and honesty among his workmen, set up stores to supply cheap\nand good provisions, and especially provided infant schools and a\nsystematic education. 'The children,' he declares, 'were the happiest\nhuman beings he ever saw.' When his partners interfered with his\nplans, Owen bought them out and started the company to which Bentham\nand Allen belonged. New Lanark rapidly became famous. It was visited\nby all the philanthropists of the day. The royal dukes not only of\nEngland but of Russia were interested; and Owen even believed that he\nhad converted Napoleon at Elba. So far, Owen was a benevolent\ncapitalist, exercising a paternal sway over his people. He became\nconvinced, however, that he had discovered the key to the great social\nproblems of the day. When the distresses followed the peace, he was\nprepared to propound his remedy, and found many willing hearers in all\nclasses. Liverpool and Sidmouth listened to him with favour, and the\nduke of Kent became president of a committee started to carry out his\nviews. He gave the impetus to the movement by which the Factory Act of\n1819 was carried, although it was far from embodying his proposals in\ntheir completeness.\n\nOwen's diagnosis of the social disease explains Southey's partiality.\nLike Southey, he traced the evil to the development of the\nmanufacturing system. That system involved, as he held, what later\nSocialists have called the 'exploitation' of the labouring classes by\nthe capitalists. With singularly crude notions of political economy,\nOwen assumed that the 'dead machinery' was in competition with the\n'living machinery.' He made startling calculations as to the amount\nof human labour represented by steam-engines; and took for granted\nthat the steam-engine displaced an equal number of workmen. His remedy\nfor poverty was to set up a number of communities, which should\nmaintain themselves by cultivating the soil with the spade, and in\nwhich every man should labour for all. Thus New Lanarks were to be\nspread over the country, with the difference that the employer was to\nbe omitted. Owen, in short, became properly a Socialist, having been\nsimply a paternal philanthropist. For a time Owen met with\nconsiderable support. A great meeting was held in London in 1817, and\na committee was started two years afterwards, of which Ricardo was a\nmember. Ricardo, indeed, took pains to let it be known that he did not\nbelieve in the efficacy of Owen's plans. Meanwhile Owen was breaking\noff his connection with New Lanark, and becoming the apostle of a new\nsocial creed. His missionary voyages took him to Ireland, to the\nUnited States and Mexico, and attempts were made to establish\ncommunities in Scotland and in the State of Illinois.\n\nOwen and his followers became natural antagonists of the Utilitarians.\nHe agreed with Southey in tracing distress to the development of the\ngreat manufacturing system, though he went much further. The\nprinciples essentially involved in the whole industrial system were,\naccording to him, pernicious. He held the essential doctrine of his\nmodern successors that property is theft. Between such a man and the\nmen who took the _Wealth of Nations_ for their gospel, and Ricardo as\nits authorised commentator, there was an impassable gulf. On the other\nhand, Owen was equally far from the Tory view of religious\nprinciples. Southey's remark that he could only succeed by allying\nhimself with some religious fanaticism was just to the point.\n\nOwen was a man of very few ideas, though he held such as he had with\nextraordinary tenacity, and enforced them by the effective if\nillogical method of incessant repetition. Among them was the idea\nwhich, as he declares, had occurred to him before he was ten years old\nthat there was something radically wrong in all religions. Whether\nthis opinion had come to him from the diffused rationalism of his\ntime, or was congenial to the practical and prosaic temperament which\nwas disquieted by the waste of energy over futile sectarian squabbles,\nor was suggested by his early study of Seneca--the only author of whom\nhe speaks as having impressed him in early years--it became a fixed\nconviction. He had been an early supporter of Lancaster and\n'unsectarian' education. When his great meeting was to be held in 1817\nit occurred to him that he might as well announce his views. He\naccordingly informed his hearers that the religions of the world were\nthe great obstacles to progress. He expected, as he assures us, that\nthis candid avowal would cause him to be 'torn in pieces.' It provoked\non the contrary general applause, and Owen congratulated himself\nrather hastily on having struck the deathblow of superstition.\n\nOwen's position, at any rate, was a significant symptom. It showed\nthat the Socialist movement sprang from motives outside the sphere of\nthe churches. Owen's personal simplicity and calmness seems to have\nsaved him from any bitter animosity. He simply set aside Christianity\nas not to the purpose, and went on calmly asserting and re-asserting\nhis views to Catholics and Protestants, Whigs, Radicals, and Tories.\nThey agreed in considering him to be a bore, but were bored rather\nthan irritated. Owen himself, like later Socialists, professed\nindifference to the political warfare of Whigs and Tories. When, at\nthe height of the Reform movement, he published a paper called the\n_Crisis_, the title referred not to the struggle in which all the\nupper classes were absorbed, but to the industrial revolution which he\nhoped to bring about. He would have been equally ready to accept help\nfrom Whig, Tory, or Radical; but his position was one equally\ndistasteful to all. The Tory could not ally himself with the man who\nthought all religions nonsense; nor any of the regular parties with\nthe man who condemned the whole industrial system and was opposed to\nall the cherished prejudices of the respectable middle classes.\n\nOwen's favourite dogma is worth a moment's notice. He was never tired\nof repeating that 'character is formed by circumstances'; from which\nhe placidly infers that no man deserves praise or blame for his\nconduct. The inference, it must be admitted, is an awkward one in any\nethical system. It represents, probably, Owen's most serious objection\nto the religions of the world. The ultimate aim of the priest is to\nsave men's souls; and sin means conduct which leads to supernatural\npunishment. Owen, on the contrary, held that immorality was simply a\ndisease to be cured, and that wrath with the sinner was as much out of\nplace as wrath with a patient. In this sense Owen's view, as I at\nleast should hold, defines the correct starting-point of any social\nreformer. He has to consider a scientific problem, not to be an agent\nof a supernatural legislator. He should try to alter the general\nconditions from which social evils spring, not to deal in pardons or\npunishment. Owen was acting with thoroughly good sense in his early\napplications of this principle. The care, for example, which he\nbestowed upon infant education recognised the fact that social reform\nimplied a thorough training of the individual from his earliest years.\nOwen's greatest error corresponds to the transformation which this\nbelief underwent in his mind. Since circumstances form character, he\nseems to have argued, it is only necessary to change the circumstances\nof a grown-up man to alter his whole disposition. His ambitious scheme\nin America seemed to suppose that it was enough to bring together a\nmiscellaneous collection of the poor and discontented people, and to\ninvite them all to behave with perfect unselfishness. At present I\nneed only remark that in this respect there was a close coincidence\nbetween Owen and the Utilitarians. Both of them really aimed at an\nimprovement of social conditions on a scientific method; and both\njustified their hopes by the characteristic belief in the indefinite\nmodifiability of human nature by external circumstances.\n\nI turn to a man who was in some ways the most complete antithesis to\nOwen. William Cobbett (1762-1835), unlike Owen, took a passionate and\nconspicuous part in the political struggles of the day. Cobbett,\ndeclares the _Edinburgh Review_ in July 1807, has more influence than\nall the other journalists put together. He had won it, as the reviewer\nthought, by his force of character, although he had changed his\npolitics completely 'within the last six months.' The fact was more\nsignificant than was then apparent. Cobbett, son of a labourer who\nhad risen to be a small farmer, had in spite of all obstacles learned\nto read and write and become a great master of the vernacular. His\nearliest model had been Swift's _Tale of a Tub_, and in downright\nvigour of homely language he could scarcely be surpassed even by the\nauthor of the _Drapier's Letters_. He had enlisted as a soldier, and\nhad afterwards drifted to America. There he had become conspicuous as\na typical John Bull. Sturdy and pugnacious in the highest degree, he\nhad taken the English side in American politics when the great\nquestion was whether the new power should be bullied by France or by\nEngland. He had denounced his precursor, Paine, in language savouring\ntoo much, perhaps, of barrack-rooms, but certainly not wanting in\nvigour. He defied threats of tar and feathers; put a portrait of\nGeorge III. in his shop-window; and gloried in British victories, and,\nin his own opinion, kept American policy straight. He had, however,\nended by making America too hot to hold him; and came back to declare\nthat republicanism meant the vilest and most corrupt of tyrannies, and\nthat, as an Englishman, he despised all other nations upon earth. He\nwas welcomed on his return by Pitt's government as likely to be a\nuseful journalist, and became the special adherent of Windham, the\nideal country-gentleman and the ardent disciple of Burke's principles.\nHe set up an independent paper and heartily supported the war. On the\nrenewal of hostilities in 1803 Cobbett wrote a manifesto[180] directed\nby the government to be read in every parish church in the kingdom, in\norder to rouse popular feeling. When Windham came into office in 1806,\nCobbett's friends supposed that his fortune was made. Yet at this\nvery crisis he became a reformer. His conversion was put down, of\ncourse, to his resentment at the neglect of ministers. I do not think\nthat Cobbett was a man to whose character one can appeal as a\nconclusive answer to such charges. Unfortunately he was not free from\nweaknesses which prevent us from denying that his political course was\naffected by personal motives. But, in spite of weaknesses and of\ncountless inconsistencies, Cobbett had perfectly genuine convictions\nand intense sympathies which sufficiently explain his position, and\nmake him more attractive than many less obviously imperfect\ncharacters. He tells us unconsciously what were the thoughts suggested\nto a man penetrated to the core by the strongest prejudices--they can\nhardly be called opinions--of the true country labourer.\n\nThe labourer, in the first place, if fairly represented by Cobbett,\nhad none of the bitter feeling against the nobility which smouldered\nin the French peasantry. Cobbett looked back as fondly to the\nsurroundings of his youth as any nobleman could look back to Eton or\nto his country mansion. He remembered the 'sweet country air' round\nCrooksbury Hill, the song of birds, and the rambles through heather\nand woodland. He loved the rough jovial sports; bull-baiting and\nprize-fighting and single-stick play. He had followed the squire's\nhounds on foot, and admired without jealousy the splendid gardens of\nthe bishop's palace at Farnham. Squire and parson were an intrinsic\npart of the general order of things. The state of the English working\nclasses was, he often declares, the happiest that could be\nimagined,[181] and he appeals in confirmation to his own memories.\nAlthough, upon enlisting, he had found the army corrupt, he not only\nloved the soldier for the rest of his life, but shared to the full the\npatriotic exultation which welcomed the 1st of June and the Nile. Even\nto the last, he could not stomach the abandonment of the title 'King\nof France'; for so long as it was retained, it encouraged the farmer\nto tell his son the story of Crecy and Agincourt.[182]\n\nWhat, then, alienated Cobbett? Briefly, the degradation of the class\nhe loved. 'I wish,' he said, 'to see the poor men of England what the\npoor men of England were when I was born, and from endeavouring to\naccomplish this task, nothing but the want of means shall make me\ndesist.'[183] He had a right to make that boast, and his ardour in the\ncause was as unimpeachable as honourable. It explains why Cobbett has\nstill a sympathetic side. He was a mass of rough human nature; no prig\nor bundle of abstract formulae, like Paine and his Radical successors.\nLogic with him is not in excess, but in defect. His doctrines are\nhopelessly inconsistent, except so far as they represent his stubborn\nprejudices. Any view will serve his purpose which can be made a weapon\nof offence in his multitudinous quarrels. Cobbett, like the Radicals\nof the time, was frightened by the gigantic progress of the debt. He\nhad advocated war; but the peasant who was accustomed to reckon his\nincome by pence, and had cried like a child when he lost the price of\na red herring, was alarmed by the reckless piling up of millions of\nindebtedness. In 1806 he calmly proposed to his patron Windham to put\nmatters straight by repudiating the interest. 'The nation must\ndestroy the debt, or the debt will destroy the nation,' as he argued\nin the _Register_.[184] The proposal very likely caused the alienation\nof a respectable minister, though propounded with an amusing air of\nphilosophical morality. Cobbett's alarm developed until it became to\nhim a revelation of the mystery of iniquity. His Radical friends were\ndenouncing placemen and jobbery, and Cobbett began to perceive what\nwas at the bottom of the evil. The money raised to carry on the war\nserved also to support a set of bloodsuckers, who were draining the\nnational strength. Already, in 1804, he was lamenting a change due to\nPitt's funding system. The old families, he said, were giving way to\n'loanjobbers, contractors, and nabobs'; and the country people amazed\nto find that their new masters had been 'butchers, bakers,\nbottle-corkers, and old-clothesmen.'[185] Barings and Ricardos and\ntheir like were swallowing up the old country gentry wholesale; and in\nlater years he reckons up, as he rides, the changes in his own\nneighbourhood.[186] His affection for the old country-gentleman might\nbe superficial; but his lamentations over the degradation of the\npeasantry sprang from his heart. It was all, in his eyes, part of one\nprocess. Paper money, he found out, was at the bottom of it all; for\npaper money was the outward and visible symbol of a gigantic system of\ncorruption and jobbery. It represented the device by which the\nhard-earned wages of the labourer were being somehow conjured away\ninto the pockets of Jews and stockjobbers. The classes which profited\nby this atrocious system formed what he called the 'Thing'--the huge,\nintricate combination of knaves which was being denounced by the\nRadicals--though with a difference. Cobbett could join the reformers\nin so far as, like them, he thought that the rotten boroughs were a\nvital part of the system. He meets a miserable labourer complaining of\nthe 'hard times.' The harvest had been good, but its blessings were\nnot for the labourer. That 'accursed hill,' says Cobbett, pointing to\nold Sarum, 'is what has robbed you of your supper.'[187] The labourer\nrepresented the class whose blood was being sucked.\n\nSo far, then, as the Radicals were assailing the borough-mongers,\nCobbett could be their cordial ally. Two years' imprisonment for libel\nembittered his feelings. In the distress which succeeded the peace,\nCobbett's voice was for a time loudest in the general hubbub. He\nreduced the price of his _Register_, and his 'two-penny trash' reached\na circulation of 25,000 or 30,000 copies. He became a power in the\nland, and anticipated the immediate triumph of reform. The day was not\nyet. Sidmouth's measures of repression frightened Cobbett to America\n(March 1819), where he wrote his history of the 'last hundred days of\nEnglish liberty.' He returned in a couple of years, damaged in\nreputation and broken in fortune; but only to carry on the war with\nindomitable energy, although with a recklessness and extravagance\nwhich alienated his allies and lowered his character. He tried to\ncover his errors by brags and bombast, which became ridiculous, and\nwhich are yet not without significance.\n\nCobbett came back from America with the relics of Paine. Paine, the\nobject of his abuse, had become his idol, not because Cobbett cared\nmuch for any abstract political theories, or for religious dogmas.\nPaine's merit was that he had attacked paper money. To Cobbett, as to\nPaine, it seemed that English banknotes were going the way of French\nassignats and the provincial currency of the Americans. This became\none main topic of his tirades, and represented, as he said, the 'Alpha\nand Omega' of English politics. The theory was simple. The whole\nborough-mongering system depended upon the inflated currency. Prick\nthat bubble and the whole would collapse. It was absolutely\nimpossible, he said, that the nation should return to cash payments\nand continue to pay interest on the debt. Should such a thing happen,\nhe declared, he would 'give his poor body up to be broiled on one of\nCastlereagh's widest-ribbed gridirons.'[188] The 'gridiron prophecy'\nbecame famous; a gridiron was for long a frontispiece to the\n_Register_; and Cobbett, far from retracting, went on proving, in the\nteeth of facts, that it had been fulfilled. His inference was, not\nthat paper should be preserved, but that the debt should be treated\nwith a 'sponge.'\n\nCobbett, therefore, was an awkward ally of political economists, whose\ngreat triumph was the resumption of cash payments, and who regarded\nrepudiation as the deadly sin. The burthen of the debt, meanwhile, was\nso great that repudiation was well within the limits of\npossibility.[189] Cobbett, in their eyes, was an advocate of the\ngrossest dishonesty, and using the basest incentives. Cobbett fully\nretorted their scorn. The economists belonged to the very class whom\nhe most hated. He was never tired of denouncing Scottish\n'feelosophers'; he sneers at Adam Smith,[190] and Ricardo was to him\nthe incarnation of the stock-jobbing interest. Cobbett sympathised\ninstinctively with the doctrine of the French economists that\nagriculture was the real source of all wealth. He nearly accepts a\nphrase, erroneously attributed to Windham, 'Perish Commerce'; and he\nargues that commerce was, in fact, of little use, and its monstrous\nextension at the bottom of all our worst evils.[191] Nobody could be\nmore heartily opposed to the spirit which animated the political\neconomists and the whole class represented by them. At times he spoke\nthe language of modern Socialists. He defines Capital as 'money taken\nfrom the labouring classes, which, being given to army tailors and\nsuchlike, enables them to keep foxhounds and trace their descent from\nthe Normans.'[192]\n\nThe most characteristic point of his speculations is his view of the\npoor-laws. Nobody could speak with more good sense and feeling of the\ndemoralisation which they were actually producing, of the sapping of\nthe spirit of independence, and of all the devices by which the\nagricultural labourer was losing the happiness enjoyed in early years.\nBut Cobbett's deduction from his principles is peculiar. 'Parson\nMalthus' is perhaps the favourite object of his most virulent abuse.\n'I have hated many men,' he says, 'but never any one so much as you,'\n'I call you parson,' he explains, 'because that word includes\n\"boroughmonger\" among other meanings, though no single word could be\nsufficient.'[193] Cobbett rages against the phrase 'redundant\npopulation.' There would be plenty for all if the borough-mongers and\nstockjobbers could be annihilated, taxes abolished, and the debt\nrepudiated. The ordinary palliatives suggested were little to the\ntaste of this remarkable Radical. The man who approved bull-fighting\nand supported the slave-trade naturally sneered at 'heddekashun,' and\nthought savings-banks a mean device to interest the poor in the\nkeeping up of the funds. His remedy was always a sponge applied to the\ndebt, and the abolition of taxes.\n\nThis leads, however, to one remarkable conclusion. Cobbett's attack\nupon the church establishment probably did more to cause alarm than\nany writings of the day. For Paine's attacks upon its creed he cared\nlittle enough. 'Your religion,' said a parson to him, 'seems to be\naltogether political.' It might well be, was Cobbett's retort, since\nhis creed was made for him by act of parliament.[194] In fact, he\ncared nothing for theology, though he called himself a member of the\nchurch of England, and retained an intense dislike for Unitarians,\ndissenters in general, 'saints' as he called the Evangelical party,\nScottish Presbyterians, and generally for all religious sects. He\nlooked at church questions solely from one point of view. He had\nlearned, it seems, from a passage in Ruggles's _History of the\nPoor_,[195] that the tithes had been originally intended to support\nthe poor as well as the church. Gradually, as he looked back upon the\n'good old times,' he developed the theory expounded in his _History of\nthe Reformation_. It is a singular performance, written at the period\nof his most reckless exasperation (1824-27), but with his full vigour\nof style. He declares[196] in 1825 that he has sold forty-five\nthousand copies, and it has been often reprinted. The purpose is to\nshow that the Reformation was 'engendered in beastly lust, brought\nforth in hypocrisy, and cherished and fed by plunder and devastation,\nand by rivers of English and Irish blood.'[197] Briefly, it is the\ncause of every evil that has happened since, including 'the debt, the\nbanks, the stockjobbers, and the American revolution.'[198] In proving\nthis, Cobbett writes in the spirit of some vehement Catholic bigot,\nmaddened by the penal laws. Henry VIII., Elizabeth, and William III.\nare his monsters; the Marys of England and Scotland his ideal martyrs.\nHe almost apologises for the massacre of St. Bartholomew and the\nGunpowder Plot; and, in spite of his patriotism, attributes the defeat\nof the Armada to a storm, for fear of praising Elizabeth. The\nbitterest Ultramontane of to-day would shrink from some of this\nRadical's audacious statements. Cobbett, in spite of his extravagance,\nshows flashes of his usual shrewdness. He remarks elsewhere that the\ntrue way of studying history is to examine acts of parliament and\nlists of prices of labour and of food;[199] and he argues upon such\ngrounds for the prosperity of the agricultural labourer under Edward\nIII., 'when a dung-cart filler could get a fat goose and a half for\nhalf a day's work.' He makes some telling hits, as when he contrasts\nWilliam of Wykeham with Brownlow North, the last bishop of Winchester.\nProtestants condemned celibacy. Well, had William been married, we\nshould not have had Winchester school, or New College; had Brownlow\nNorth been doomed to celibacy, he would not have had ten sons and\nsons-in-law to share twenty-four rich livings, besides prebends and\nother preferments; and perhaps he would not have sold small beer from\nhis episcopal palace at Farnham. Cobbett's main doctrine is that when\nthe Catholic church flourished, the population was actually more\nnumerous and richer, that the care of the priests and monks made\npauperism impossible, and that ever since the hideous blunder\nperpetrated by the reformers everything has been going from bad to\nworse. When it was retorted that the census proved the population to\nbe growing, he replied that the census was a lie. Were the facts truly\nstated, he declares, we should have a population of near twenty-eight\nmillion in England by the end of this century,[200] a manifest\n_reductio ad absurdum_. If it were remarked that there was a Catholic\nchurch in France, and that Cobbett proves his case by the superiority\nof the English poor to the French poor, he remarked summarily that the\nFrench laws were different.[201]\n\nThus, the one monster evil is the debt, and the taxes turn out to have\nbeen a Protestant invention made necessary by the original act of\nplunder. That was Cobbett's doctrine, and, however perverse might be\nsome of his reasonings, it was clearly to the taste of a large\naudience. The poor-law was merely a partial atonement for a vast and\ncontinuous process of plunder. Corrupt as might be its actual\noperation, it was a part of the poor man's patrimony, extorted by fear\nfrom the gang of robbers who fattened upon their labours.\n\nCobbett's theories need not be discussed from the logical or\nhistorical point of view. They are the utterances of a man made\nunscrupulous by his desperate circumstances, fighting with boundless\npugnacity, ready to strike any blow, fair or foul, so long as it will\nvex his enemies, and help to sell the _Register_. His pugnacity\nalienated all his friends. Not only did Whigs and Tories agree in\ncondemning him, but the Utilitarians hated and despised him, and his\nold friends, Burnett and Hunt, were alienated from him, and reviled by\nhim. His actual followers were a small and insignificant remnant. Yet\nCobbett, like Owen, represented in a crude fashion blind instincts of\nno small importance in the coming years. And it is especially to be\nnoted that in one direction the philosophic Coleridge and the keen\nQuarterly Reviewer Southey, and the Socialist Owen and the reactionary\nRadical Cobbett, were more in agreement than they knew. What alarmed\nthem was the vast social change indicated by the industrial\nrevolution. In one way or another they connected all the evils of the\nday with the growth of commerce and manufactures, and the breaking up\nof the old system of domestic trade and village life.[202] That is to\nsay, that in a dumb and inarticulate logic, though in the loudest\ntones of denunciation, Tories and Socialists, and nondescript Radicals\nwere raging against the results of the great social change, which the\nUtilitarians regarded as the true line of advance of the day. This\ngives the deepest line of demarcation, and brings us to the political\neconomy, which shows most fully how the case presented itself to the\ntrue Utilitarian.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[80] Bain's _James Mill_, p. 215.\n\n[81] _Autobiography_, p. 104.\n\n[82] _Miscellaneous Works_ (Popular Edition), p. 131.\n\n[83] The articles from the _Encyclopaedia_ upon Government,\nJurisprudence, Liberty of the Press, Prisons and Prison Discipline,\nColonies, Law of Nations, Education, were reprinted in a volume 'not\nfor sale,' in 1825 and 1828. I quote from a reprint not dated.\n\n[84] 'Government,' pp. 3-5.\n\n[85] 'Government,' p. 8.\n\n[86] 'Government,' p. 9.\n\n[87] _Ibid._ p. 11.\n\n[88] _Ibid._ p. 9.\n\n[89] _Ibid._ p. 12.\n\n[90] 'Government,' p. 9.\n\n[91] C'est une experience eternelle que tout homme qui a du pouvoir\nest porte a en abuser; il va jusqu'a ce qu'il trouve des\nlimites.--_Esprit des Lois_, Bk. xi. chap 4.\n\n[92] 'Government,' p. 15.\n\n[93] 'Government,' p. 7.\n\n[94] _Ibid._ p. 18.\n\n[95] 'Government,' p. 21.\n\n[96] _Ibid._ p. 22\n\n[97] _Autobiography_, p. 104.\n\n[98] 'Government,' p. 28.\n\n[99] _Ibid._ p. 30. Mill especially refers to the exposure of clerical\nartifices in Father Paul's _Council of Trent_.\n\n[100] 'Education,' p. 20\n\n[101] _Ibid._ p. 45.\n\n[102] _Autobiography_, p. 106.\n\n[103] 'Government,' p. 31.\n\n[104] Bain's _James Mill_, p. 392.\n\n[105] They were reprinted in the _Miscellaneous Works_ after\nMacaulay's death. I quote from the 'popular edition' of that work\n(1875).\n\n[106] _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 166.\n\n[107] _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 132.\n\n[108] Mill's _Autobiography_, p. 158.\n\n[109] 'Government,' p. 12.\n\n[110] _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 169.\n\n[111] _Fragment on Mackintosh_ (1870), pp. 275-94.\n\n[112] Essay on the 'Independency of Parliament.'\n\n[113] _Fragment_, p. 292.\n\n[114] _Ibid._ p. 276.\n\n[115] _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 170.\n\n[116] _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 173.\n\n[117] _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 138.\n\n[118] _Miscellaneous Works_, pp. 135-40.\n\n[119] _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 158, and see pp. 143-47.\n\n[120] _Speeches_ (Popular Edition), p. 125.\n\n[121] _Ibid._ p. 128.\n\n[122] _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 146.\n\n[123] _Miscellaneous Works_, p. 183.\n\n[124] A full analysis of this article is in Bain's _James Mill_, pp.\n265-75.\n\n[125] Article upon Sheridan, reprinted in Jeffrey's _Essays_, iv.\n(1844).\n\n[126] _Table-Talk_, 27th April 1823.\n\n[127] _Vindiciae Gallicae_, in _Miscellaneous Works_, iii. (1846), p.\n57.\n\n[128] Mackintosh thinks it necessary to add that this parallel was\nsuggested to him by William Thomson (1746-1837), a literary gentleman\nwho continued Watson's _Philip III._, and may, for anything I know,\ndeserve Mackintosh's warm eulogy.\n\n[129] _Vindiciae Gallicae_, p. 59.\n\n[130] _Ibid._ p. 51.\n\n[131] _Ibid._ p. 148.\n\n[132] _Ibid._ p. 68.\n\n[133] _Ibid._ p. 72.\n\n[134] _Ibid._ p. 125.\n\n[135] _Vindiciae Gallicae_, p. 128.\n\n[136] _Ibid._ p. 84.\n\n[137] _Ibid._ p. 30.\n\n[138] _Life of Mackintosh_, i. 125.\n\n[139] _Miscellaneous Works_, iii. 261-65.\n\n[140] _Life_, i. 309-16.\n\n[141] See _Miscellaneous Works_, iii. 3.\n\n[142] _Ibid._ iii. 203-38 (an article highly praised by Bagehot in his\n_Parliamentary Reform_).\n\n[143] _Miscellaneous Works_, iii. 215-16.\n\n[144] _Ibid._ iii. 226. Mackintosh in this article mentions the\n'caucus,' and observes that the name implies that combinations have\nbeen already formed upon 'which the future government of the\nconfederacy may depend more than on the forms of election, or the\nletter of the present laws.' He inclines to approve the system as\nessential to party government.\n\n[145] _Essays_ (1844), i. 84-106.\n\n[146] The famous 'Cevallos' article of 1808, said to be written by\nJeffrey and Brougham (Macvey Napier's _Correspondence_, p. 308), gave\nthe immediate cause of starting the _Quarterly_; and, according to\nBrougham, first gave a distinctly Liberal character to the\n_Edinburgh_. For Jeffrey's desire to avoid 'party politics,' see\nLockhart's _Life of Scott_, M. Napier's _Correspondence_, p. 435, and\nHomer's _Memoirs_ (1853), i. 464.\n\n[147] April 1805; reprinted in _Essays_, ii. 38, etc., to show, as he\nsays, how early he had taken up his view of the French revolution.\n\n[148] Sydney Smith complains in his correspondence of this article as\nexaggerating the power of the aristocracy.\n\n[149] _Essays_, iv. 29.\n\n[150] I need not speak of Brougham, then the most conspicuous advocate\nof Whiggism. He published in 1843 a _Political Philosophy_, which,\naccording to Lord Campbell, killed the 'Society for the Diffusion of\nUseful Knowledge.' No such hypothesis is necessary to account for the\ndeath of a society encumbered by a 'Dictionary of Universal\nBiography.' But the book was bad enough to kill, if a collection of\noutworn platitudes can produce that effect.\n\n[151] Bentham's _Works_, x. 536.\n\n[152] _Colloquies_, i. 253.\n\n[153] _Colloquies_, i. 171.\n\n[154] _Ibid._ i. 178.\n\n[155] _Ibid._ i. 169.\n\n[156] _Ibid._ i. 167.\n\n[157] _Ibid._ i. 170.\n\n[158] _Ibid._ i. 194.\n\n[159] _Ibid._ ii. 247.\n\n[160] _Colloquies_, ii. 259.\n\n[161] _Ibid._ i. 109.\n\n[162] _Ibid._ ii. 105-7.\n\n[163] _Ibid._ i. 106.\n\n[164] _Ibid._ i. 47.\n\n[165] _Life and Correspondence_, iv. 195; _Selections_, iii. 45.\n\n[166] _Colloquies_, i. 62.\n\n[167] _Colloquies_, i. 135.\n\n[168] _Ibid._ ii. 147. Southey is here almost verbally following\nBurke's _Reflections_.\n\n[169] _Life and Correspondence_, v. 4-6.\n\n[170] _Colloquies_, i. 105.\n\n[171] _On the Constitution of Church and State, according to the idea\nof each_, 1852 (fourth edition).\n\n[172] _Church and State_, p. 100.\n\n[173] _Ibid._ p. 97.\n\n[174] _Church and State_, p. 85.\n\n[175] _Ibid._ p. 67.\n\n[176] _Church and State_, p. 142.\n\n[177] _Ibid._ pp. 75-79.\n\n[178] _Colloquies_, i. 37.\n\n[179] See an early account of Dale (in 1798) in Sydney Smith's _Life\nand Letters_, i. 35, and another in Wilberforce's _Correspondence_\n(1840), i. 137 (in 1796).\n\n[180] Printed in _Political Works_, i. 302.\n\n[181] _Political Works_, v. 313; vi. 579.\n\n[182] _Political Works_, i. 473; v. 319.\n\n[183] _Ibid._ ii. 285.\n\n[184] _Political Works_, ii. 28; iv. 388.\n\n[185] _Ibid._ i. 443.\n\n[186] _Rural Rides_ (1853), p. 311.\n\n[187] _Rural Rides_, p. 386.\n\n[188] _Political Works_, v. 436 (22nd July 1819).\n\n[189] Even M'Culloch had recommended a partial repudiation.\n\n[190] _Political Works_, iv. 237.\n\n[191] _Ibid._ ii. 19, 107, 250, 346; and iii. 423. See _Parliamentary\nHistory_, xxx., where the first use of the phrase by Hardinge is\nreported.\n\n[192] _Political Works_, vi. 176.\n\n[193] _Ibid._ 395.\n\n[194] _Rural Rides_, p. 446.\n\n[195] He complains bitterly that Ruggles had suppressed this in a\nsecond edition. _Protestant Reformation_ (1850), ii., Introduction.\n\n[196] _Political Register_, 29th Jan. 1825.\n\n[197] _Protestant Reformation_, p. 13.\n\n[198] _Ibid._ p. 262.\n\n[199] _Advice to Young Men_, p. 8.\n\n[200] _Political Works_, v. 405. If our census be not a lie, there\nwere twenty-seven million Englishmen in 1891.\n\n[201] _Protestant Reformation_, i. 311.\n\n[202] Coleridge in a letter to Allsop (_Conversations_, etc., i. 20)\napproves one of Cobbett's articles, because it popularises the weighty\ntruth of the 'hollowness of commercial wealth.' Cobbett, he sadly\nreflects, is an overmatch for Liverpool. See Cobbett's _Political\nWorks_, v. 466 _n._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nMALTHUS\n\n\nI. MALTHUS'S STARTING-POINT\n\nThe political movement represented the confluence of many different\nstreams of agitation. Enormous social changes had generated\nmultifarious discontent. New wants and the new strains and stresses\nbetween the various parts of the political mechanism required new\nadaptations. But, if it were inquired what was the precise nature of\nthe evils, and how the reform of parliament was to operate, the most\nvarious answers might be given. A most important line of division did\nnot coincide with the line between the recognised parties. One wing of\nthe Radicals agreed with many Conservatives in attributing the great\nevils of the day to the industrial movement and the growth of\ncompetition. The middle-class Whigs and the Utilitarians were, on the\ncontrary, in thorough sympathy with the industrial movement, and\ndesired to limit the functions of government, and trust to self-help\nand free competition. The Socialistic movement appeared for the\npresent to be confined to a few dreamers and demagogues. The\nUtilitarians might approve the spirit of the Owenites, but held their\nschemes to be chimerical. Beneath the political controversies there\nwas therefore a set of problems to be answered; and the Utilitarian\nanswer defines their distinction from Radicals of a different and, as\nthey would have said, unphilosophical school.\n\nWhat, then, was the view really taken by the Utilitarians of these\nunderlying problems? They not only had a very definite theory in\nregard to them, but in working it out achieved perhaps their most\nimportant contribution to speculation. Beneath a political theory\nlies, or ought to lie, what we now call a 'sociology'--a theory of\nthat structure of society which really determines the character and\nthe working of political institutions. The Utilitarian theory was\nembodied in their political economy. I must try to define as well as I\ncan what were the essential first principles implied, without going\ninto the special problems which would be relevant in a history of\npolitical economy.\n\nThe two leading names in the literature of political economy during\nthe first quarter of this century were undoubtedly Malthus and\nRicardo. Thomas Robert Malthus[203] (1766-1834) was not one of the\nUtilitarian band. As a clergyman, he could not share their opinion of\nthe Thirty-nine Articles. Moreover, he was a Whig, not a Radical; and\nhe was even tainted with some economic heresy. Still, he became one of\nthe prophets, if not the leading prophet, of the Utilitarians. Belief\nin the Malthusian theory of population was the most essential article\nof their faith, and marked the line of cleavage between the two wings\nof the Radical party.\n\nMalthus was the son of a country gentleman in Surrey. His father was\na man of studious habits, and one of the enthusiastic admirers of\nRousseau. His study of _Emile_ probably led to the rather desultory\neducation of his son. The boy, after being taught at home, was for a\ntime a pupil of R. Graves (1715-1804), author of the _Spiritual\nQuixote_, a Whig clergyman who was at least orthodox enough to\nridicule Methodism. Malthus was next sent to attend Gilbert\nWakefield's lectures at the Warrington 'Academy,' the Unitarian place\nof education, and in 1784 went to Jesus College, Cambridge, of which\nWakefield had been a fellow. For Wakefield, who had become a\nUnitarian, and who was afterwards a martyr to political Radicalism, he\nappears to have retained a strong respect. At Jesus, again, Malthus\nwas under Frend, who also was to join the Unitarians. Malthus was thus\nbrought up under the influences of the modified rationalism which was\nrepresented by the Unitarians outside the establishment and by Paley\nwithin. Coleridge was at Jesus while Malthus was still a fellow, and\nthere became an ardent admirer of Priestley, Malthus remained within\nthe borders of the church. Its yoke was light enough, and he was\nessentially predisposed to moderate views. He took his degree as ninth\nwrangler in 1788, became a fellow of his college in 1793, took orders,\nand in 1798 was curate of Albury, near his father's house in Surrey.\nMalthus's home was within a walk of Farnham, where Cobbett had been\nborn and passed his childhood. He had, therefore, before his eyes the\nsame agricultural labourer whose degradation excited Cobbett to\nRadicalism. Very different views were suggested to Malthus. The\nrevolutionary doctrine was represented in England by the writings of\nGodwin, whose _Political Justice_ appeared in 1793 and _Enquirer_ in\n1797. These books naturally afforded topics for discussion between\nMalthus and his father. The usual relations between senior and junior\nwere inverted; the elder Malthus, as became a follower of Rousseau,\nwas an enthusiast; and the younger took the part of suggesting doubts\nand difficulties. He resolved to put down his arguments upon paper, in\norder to clear his mind; and the result was the _Essay upon\nPopulation_, of which the first edition appeared anonymously in 1798.\n\nThe argument upon which Malthus relied was already prepared for him.\nThe dreams of the revolutionary enthusiasts supposed either a neglect\nof the actual conditions of human life or a belief that those\nconditions could be radically altered by the proposed political\nchanges. The cooler reasoner was entitled to remind them that they\nwere living upon solid earth, not in dreamland. The difficulty of\nrealising Utopia may be presented in various ways. Malthus took a\npoint which had been noticed by Godwin. In the conclusion of his\n_Political Justice_,[204] while taking a final glance at the coming\nmillennium, Godwin refers to a difficulty suggested by Robert Wallace.\nWallace had[205] said that all the evils under which mankind suffers\nmight be removed by a community of property, were it not that such a\nstate of things would lead to an 'excessive population.' Godwin makes\nlight of the difficulty. He thinks that there is some 'principle in\nhuman society by means of which everything tends to find its own level\nand proceed in the most auspicious way, when least interfered with by\nthe mode of regulation.' Anyhow, there is plenty of room on the earth,\nat present. Population may increase for 'myriads of centuries.' Mind,\nas Franklin has said, may become 'omnipotent over matter';[206] life\nmay be indefinitely prolonged; our remote descendants who have filled\nthe earth 'will probably cease to propagate';[207] they will not have\nthe trouble of making a fresh start at every generation; and in those\ndays there will be 'no war, no crimes, no administration of justice';\nand moreover, 'no disease, anguish, melancholy, or resentment.'\nBriefly, we shall be like the angels, only without the needless\naddition of a supreme ruler. Similar ideas were expressed in\nCondorcet's famous _Tableau historique des progres de l'esprit\nhumain_,[208] written while he was in daily fear of death by the\nguillotine, and so giving the most striking instance on record of the\ninvincibility of an idealist conviction under the hardest pressure of\nfacts.\n\nThe argument of Malthus is a product of the whole previous course of\nspeculation. The question of population had occupied the French\neconomists. The profound social evils of France gave the\nstarting-point of their speculations; and one of the gravest symptoms\nhad been the decay of population under the last years of Louis XIV.\nTheir great aim was to meet this evil by encouraging agriculture. It\ncould not escape the notice of the simplest observer that if you would\nhave more mouths you must provide more food, unless, as some pious\npeople assumed, that task might be left to Providence. Quesnay had\nlaid it down as one of his axioms that the statesman should aim at\nproviding sustenance before aiming simply at stimulating population.\nIt follows, according to Gulliver's famous maxim, that the man who\nmakes two blades of grass grow where one grew before deserves better\nof his country than the 'whole race of politicians put together.'\nOther writers, in developing this thesis, had dwelt upon the\nelasticity of population. The elder Mirabeau, for example, published\nhis _Ami des hommes ou traite de la population_ in 1756. He observes\nthat, given the means of subsistence, men will multiply like rats in a\nbarn.[209] The great axiom, he says,[210] is 'la mesure de la\nsubsistance est celle de la population.' Cultivate your fields, and\nyou will raise men. Mirabeau replies to Hume's essay upon the\n'Populousness of ancient nations' (1752), of which Wallace's first\ntreatise was a criticism. The problem discussed by Hume and Wallace\nhad been comparatively academical; but by Malthus's time the question\nhad taken a more practical shape. The sentimentalists denounced luxury\nas leading to a decay of the population. Their prevailing doctrine is\nembodied in Goldsmith's famous passage in the _Deserted Village_\n(1770):\n\n    'Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,\n    Where wealth accumulates and men decay.'\n\nThe poetical version only reflected the serious belief of Radical\npoliticians. Although, as we are now aware, the population was in fact\nincreasing rapidly, the belief prevailed among political writers that\nit was actually declining. Trustworthy statistics did not exist. In\n1753 John Potter, son of the archbishop, proposed to the House of\nCommons a plan for a census. A violent discussion arose,[211] in the\ncourse of which it was pointed out that the plan would inevitably lead\nto the adoption of the 'canvas frock and wooden shoes.' Englishmen\nwould lose their liberty, become French slaves, and, when counted,\nwould no doubt be taxed and forcibly enlisted. The bill passed the\nHouse of Commons in spite of such reasoning, but was thrown out by the\nHouse of Lords. Till the first census was taken in 1801--a period at\nwhich the absolute necessity of such knowledge had become obvious--the\nmost elementary facts remained uncertain. Was population increasing or\ndecreasing? That surely might be ascertainable.\n\nRichard Price (1723-1791) was not only a distinguished moralist and a\nleading politician, but perhaps the best known writer of his time upon\nstatistical questions. He had the credit of suggesting Pitt's sinking\nfund,[212] and spoke with the highest authority upon facts and\nfigures. Price argued in 1780[213] that the population of England had\ndiminished by one-fourth since the revolution of 1688. A sharp\ncontroversy followed upon the few ascertainable data. The vagueness of\nthe results shows curiously how much economists had to argue in the\ndark. Malthus observes in his first edition that he had been\nconvinced by reading Price that population was restrained by 'vice and\nmisery,' as results, not of political institutions, but of 'our own\ncreation.'[214] This gives the essential point of difference. Mirabeau\nhad declared that the population of all Europe was decaying. Hume's\nessay, which he criticises, had been in answer to a similar statement\nof Montesquieu. Price had learned that other countries were increasing\nin number, though England, he held, was still declining. What, then,\nwas the cause? The cause, replied both Price and Mirabeau, was\n'luxury,' to which Price adds the specially English evils of the\n'engrossment of farms' and the enclosure of open fields. Price had to\nadmit that the English towns had increased; but this was an additional\nevil. The towns increased simply by draining the country; and in the\ntowns themselves the deaths exceeded the births. The great cities were\nthe graves of mankind. This opinion was strongly held, too, by Arthur\nYoung, who ridiculed the general fear of depopulation, and declared\nthat if money were provided, you could always get labour, but who\nlooked upon the towns as destructive cancers in the body politic.\n\nThe prevalence of this view explains Malthus's position. To attribute\ndepopulation to luxury was to say that it was caused by the inequality\nof property. The rich man wasted the substance of the country, became\ndemoralised himself, and both corrupted and plundered his neighbours.\nThe return to a 'state of nature,' in Rousseau's phrase, meant the\nreturn to a state of things in which this misappropriation should\nbecome impossible. The whole industry of the nation would then be\ndevoted to supporting millions of honest, simple peasants and\nlabourers, whereas it now went to increasing the splendour of the\ngreat at the expense of the poor. Price enlarges upon this theme,\nwhich was, in fact, the contemporary version of the later formula that\nthe rich are growing richer and the poor poorer. The immediate effect\nof equalising property, then, would be an increase of population. It\nwas the natural retort, adopted by Malthus, that such an increase\nwould soon make everybody poor, instead of making every one\ncomfortable. Population, the French economists had said, follows\nsubsistence. Will it not multiply indefinitely? The rapid growth of\npopulation in America was noticed by Price and Godwin; and the theory\nhad been long before expanded by Franklin, in a paper which Malthus\nquotes in his later editions. 'There is no bound,' said Franklin in\n1751,[215] 'to the prolific nature of plants and animals but what is\nmade by their crowding and interfering with each other's means of\nsubsistence.' The whole earth, he infers, might be overspread with\nfennel, for example, or, if empty of men, replenished in a few ages\nwith Englishmen. There were supposed to be already one million of\nEnglishmen in North America. If they doubled once in twenty-five\nyears, they would in a century exceed the number of Englishmen at\nhome. This is identical with Mirabeau's principle of the multiplying\nof rats in a barn. Population treads closely on the heels of\nsubsistence. Work out your figures and see the results.[216]\n\nMalthus's essay in the first edition was mainly an application of\nthis retort, and though the logic was effective as against Godwin, he\nmade no elaborate appeal to facts. Malthus soon came to see that a\nmore precise application was desirable. It was clearly desirable to\nknow whether population was or was not actually increasing, and under\nwhat conditions. I have spoken of the contemporary labours of\nSinclair, Young, Sir F. Eden, and others. To collect statistics was\nplainly one of the essential conditions of settling the controversy.\nMalthus in 1799 travelled on the continent to gather information, and\nvisited Sweden, Norway, Russia, and Germany. The peace of Amiens\nenabled him in 1802 to visit France and Switzerland. He inquired\neverywhere into the condition of the people, collected such\nstatistical knowledge as was then possible, and returned to digest it\ninto a elaborate treatise. Meanwhile, the condition of England was\ngiving a fresh significance to the argument. The first edition had\nbeen published at the critical time when the poor-law was being\nrelaxed, and disastrous results were following war and famine. The old\ncomplaint that the poor-law was causing depopulation was being changed\nfor the complaint that it was stimulating pauperism. The first edition\nalready discussed this subject, which was occupying all serious\nthinkers; it was now to receive a fuller treatment. The second\nedition, greatly altered, appeared in 1803, and made Malthus a man of\nauthority. His merits were recognised by his appointment in 1805 to\nthe professorship of history and political economy at the newly\nfounded East India College at Haileybury. There he remained till the\nend of his life, which was placid, uneventful, and happy. He made a\nhappy marriage in 1804; and his calm temperament enabled him to bear\nan amount of abuse which might have broken the health of a more\nirritable man. Cobbett's epithet, 'parson Malthus,' strikes the\nkeynote. He was pictured as a Christian priest denouncing charity, and\nproclaiming the necessity of vice and misery. He had the ill luck to\nbe the centre upon which the antipathies of Jacobin and anti-Jacobin\nconverged. Cobbett's language was rougher than Southey's; but the\npoet-laureate and the author of 'two-penny trash' were equally\nvehement in sentiment. Malthus, on the other hand, was accepted by the\npolitical economists, both Whig and Utilitarian. Horner and\nMackintosh, lights of the Whigs, were his warm friends as well as his\ndisciples. He became intimate with Ricardo, and he was one of the\noriginal members of the Political Economy Club. He took abuse\nimperturbably; was never vexed 'after the first fortnight' by the most\nunfair attack; and went on developing his theories, lecturing his\nstudents, and improving later editions of his treatise. Malthus died\non 23rd December 1834.\n\n\nII. THE RATIOS\n\nThe doctrine marks a critical point in political economy. Malthus's\nopponents, as Mr. Bonar remarks,[217] attacked him alternately for\npropounding a truism and for maintaining a paradox. A 'truism' is not\nuseless so long as its truth is not admitted. It would be the greatest\nof achievements to enunciate a law self-evident as soon as formulated,\nand yet previously ignored or denied. Was this the case of Malthus? Or\ndid he really startle the world by clothing a commonplace in paradox,\nand then explain away the paradox till nothing but the commonplace was\nleft?\n\nMalthus laid down in his first edition a proposition which continued\nto be worried by all his assailants. Population, he said, when\nunchecked, increases in the geometrical ratio; the means of\nsubsistence increase only in an arithmetical ratio. Geometrical ratios\nwere just then in fashion.[218] Price had appealed to their wonderful\nways in his arguments about the sinking fund; and had pointed out that\na penny put out to 5 per cent. compound interest at the birth of\nChrist would, in the days of Pitt, have been worth some millions of\nglobes of solid gold, each as big as the earth. Both Price and Malthus\nlay down a proposition which can easily be verified by the\nmultiplication-table. If, as Malthus said, population doubles in\ntwenty-five years, the number in two centuries would be to the present\nnumber as 256 to 1, and in three as 4096 to 1. If, meanwhile, the\nquantity of subsistence increased in 'arithmetical progression,' the\nmultipliers for it would be only 9 and 13. It follows that, in the\nyear 2003, two hundred and fifty-six persons will have to live upon\nwhat now supports nine. So far, the case is clear. But how does the\nargument apply to facts? For obvious reasons, Price's penny could not\nbecome even one solid planet of gold. Malthus's population is also\nclearly impossible. That is just his case. The population of British\nNorth America was actually, when he wrote, multiplying at the assigned\nrate. What he pointed out was that such a rate must somehow be\nstopped; and his question was, how precisely will it be stopped? The\nfirst proposition, he says[219] (that is, that population increased\ngeometrically), 'I considered as proved the moment that the American\nincrease was related; and the second as soon as enunciated.' To say\nthat a population increases geometrically, in fact, is simply to say\nthat it increases at a fixed rate. The arithmetical increase\ncorresponds to a statement which Malthus, at any rate, might regard as\nundeniable; namely, that in a country already fully occupied, the\npossibility of increasing produce is restricted within much narrower\nlimits. In a 'new country,' as in the American colonies, the increase\nof food might proceed as rapidly as the increase of population.\nImproved methods of cultivation, or the virtual addition of vast\ntracts of fertile territory by improved means of communication, may of\ncourse add indefinitely to the resources of a population. But Malthus\nwas contemplating a state of things in which the actual conditions\nlimited the people to an extraction of greater supplies from a\nstrictly limited area. Whether Malthus assumed too easily that this\nrepresented the normal case may be questionable. At any rate, it was\nnot only possible but actual in the England of the time. His problem\nwas very much to the purpose. His aim was to trace the way in which\nthe population of a limited region is prevented from increasing\ngeometrically. If the descendants of Englishmen increase at a certain\nrate in America, why do they not increase equally in England? That, it\nmust be admitted, is a fair scientific problem. Finding that two races\nof similar origin, and presumably like qualities, increase at\ndifferent rates, we have to investigate the causes of the difference.\n\nMalthus answered the problem in the simplest and most consistent way\nin his first edition. What are the checks? The ultimate check would\nclearly be starvation. A population might multiply till it had not\nfood. But before this limit is actually reached, it will suffer in\nvarious ways from scarcity. Briefly, the checks may be distinguished\ninto the positive, that is, actual distress, and the preventive, or\n'foresight.' We shall actually suffer unless we are restrained by the\nanticipation of suffering. As a fact, however, he thinks that men are\nbut little influenced by the prudence which foresees sufferings. They\ngo on multiplying till the consequences are realised. You may be\nconfined in a room, to use one of his illustrations,[220] though the\nwalls do not touch you; but human beings are seldom satisfied till\nthey have actually knocked their heads against the wall. He sums up\nhis argument in the first edition in three propositions.[221]\nPopulation is limited by the means of subsistence; that is obvious;\npopulation invariably increases when the means of subsistence are\nincreased; that is shown by experience to be practically true; and\ntherefore, finally, the proportion is maintained by 'misery and\nvice.' That is the main conclusion which not unnaturally startled the\nworld. Malthus always adhered in some sense to the main doctrine,\nthough he stated explicitly some reserves already implicitly involved.\nA writer must not be surprised if popular readers remember the\nunguarded and dogmatic utterances which give piquancy to a theory, and\noverlook the latent qualifications which, when fully expressed, make\nit approximate to a commonplace. The political bearing of his\nreasoning is significant. The application of Godwin's theories of\nequality would necessarily, as he urges, stimulate an excessive\npopulation. To meet the consequent evils, two measures would be\nobviously necessary; private property must be instituted in order to\nstimulate prudence; and marriage must be instituted to make men\nresponsible for the increase of the population. These institutions are\nnecessary, and they make equality impossible. Weak, then, as foresight\nmay be with most men, the essential social institutions have been\ndeveloped by the necessity of enabling foresight to exercise some\ninfluence; and thus indirectly societies have in fact grown in wealth\nand numbers through arrangements which have by one and the same action\nstrengthened prudence and created inequality. Although this is clearly\nimplied, the main impression produced upon Malthus's readers was that\nhe held 'vice and misery' to be essential to society; nay, that in\nsome sense he regarded them as blessings. He was accused, as he tells\nus,[222] of objecting to vaccination, because it tended to prevent\ndeaths from small-pox, and has to protest against some one who had\ndeclared his principles to be favourable to the slave trade.[223] He\nwas represented, that is, as holding depopulation to be good in\nitself. These perversions were grotesque, but partly explain the\nhorror with which Malthus was constantly regarded; and we must\nconsider what made them plausible.\n\nI must first notice the maturer form of his doctrine. In the second\nedition he turns to account the result of his later reading, his\npersonal observations, and the statistical results which were\nbeginning to accumulate. The remodelled book opens with a survey of\nthe observed action of the checks; and it concludes with a discussion\nof the 'moral restraint' which is now added to 'vice and misery.'\nAlthough considerable fragments of the old treatise remained to the\nlast, the whole book was altered both in style and character. The\nstyle certainly suffers, for Malthus was not a master of the literary\nart; he inserts his additions with little care for the general effect.\nHe tones down some of the more vivid phrases which had given offence,\nthough he does not retract the substance. A famous passage[224] in the\nsecond edition, in which he speaks of 'nature's mighty feast,' where,\nunluckily, the 'table is already full,' and therefore unbidden guests\nare left to starve, was suppressed in the later editions. Yet the\nprinciple that no man has a claim to subsistence as of right remains\nunaltered. The omission injures the literary effect without altering\nthe logic; and I think that, where the argument is amended, the new\nelement is scarcely worked into the old so as to gain thorough\nconsistency.\n\nMalthus's survey of different countries showed how various are the\n'checks' by which population is limited in various countries. We take\na glance at all nations through all epochs of history. In the South\nSea we find a delicious climate and a fertile soil, where population\nis mainly limited by vice, infanticide, and war; and where, in spite\nof these influences, the population multiplies at intervals till it is\nkilled off by famine. In China, a vast and fertile territory,\ninhabited by an industrious race, in which agriculture has always been\nencouraged, marriage stimulated, and property widely diffused, has\nfacilitated the production of a vast population in the most abject\nstate of poverty, driven to expose children by want, and liable at\nintervals to destructive famines. In modern Europe, the checks appear\nin the most various forms; in Switzerland and Norway a frugal\npopulation in small villages sometimes instinctively understands the\nprinciple of population, and exhibits the 'moral restraint,' while in\nEngland the poor-laws are producing a mass of hopeless and inert\npauperism. Consideration of these various cases, and a comparison of\nsuch records as are obtainable of the old savage races, of the\nclassical states of antiquity, of the Northern barbarians and of the\nmodern European nations, suggests a natural doubt. Malthus abundantly\nproves what can hardly be denied, that population has everywhere been\nfound to press upon the means of subsistence, and that vice and misery\nare painfully abundant. But does he establish or abandon his main\nproposition? He now asserts the 'tendency' of population to outrun the\nmeans of subsistence. Yet he holds unequivocally that the increase of\npopulation has been accompanied by an increased comfort; that want has\ndiminished although population has increased; and that the\n'preventive' check is stronger than of old in proportion to the\npositive check. Scotland, he says,[225] is 'still overpeopled, but not\nso much as when it contained fewer inhabitants.' Many nations, as he\npoints out in general terms, have been most prosperous when most\npopulous.[226] They could export food when crowded, and have ceased to\nimport it when thinned. This, indeed, expresses his permanent views,\nthough the facts were often alleged by his critics as a disproof of\nthem. Was not the disproof real? Does not a real evasion lurk under\nthe phrase 'tendency'? You may say that the earth has a tendency to\nfall into the sun, and another 'tendency' to move away from the sun.\nBut it would be absurd to argue that we were therefore in danger of\nbeing burnt or of being frozen. To explain the law of a vital process,\nwe may have to analyse it, and therefore to regard it as due to\nconflicting forces; but the forces do not really exist separately, and\nin considering the whole concrete phenomenon we must take them as\nmutually implied. A man has a 'tendency' to grow too fat; and another\n'tendency' to grow too thin. That surely means that on the whole he\nhas a 'tendency' to preserve the desirable mean. The phrase, then, can\nonly have a distinct meaning when the conflicting forces represent two\nindependent or really separable forces. To use an illustration given\nby Malthus, we might say that a man had a 'tendency' to grow upwards;\nbut was restrained by a weight on his head. The man has the\n'tendency,' because we may regard the weight as a separable accident.\nWhen both forces are of the essence, the separate 'tendencies'\ncorrespond merely to our way of analysing the fact. But if one can be\nproperly regarded as relatively accidental, the 'tendency' means the\nway in which the other will manifest itself in actual cases.\n\nIn 1829, Senior put this point to Malthus.[227] What, he asked, do you\nunderstand by a 'tendency' when you admit that the tendency is\nnormally overbalanced by others? Malthus explains his meaning to be\nthat every nation suffers from evils 'specifically arising from the\npressure of population against food.' The wages of the labourer in old\ncountries have never been sufficient to enable him to maintain a large\nfamily at ease. There is overcrowding, we may say, in England now as\nthere was in England at the Conquest; though food has increased in a\ngreater proportion than population; and the pressure has therefore\ntaken a milder form. This, again, is proved by the fact that, whenever\na relaxation of the pressure has occurred, when plagues have\ndiminished population, or improvements in agriculture increased their\nsupply of food, the gap has been at once filled up. The people have\nnot taken advantage of the temporary relaxation of the check to\npreserve the new equilibrium, but have taken out the improvement by a\nmultiplication of numbers. The statement then appears to be that at\nany given time the population is in excess. Men would be better off if\nthey were less numerous. But, on the other hand, the tendency to\nmultiply does not represent a constant force, an irresistible instinct\nwhich will always bring men down to the same level, but something\nwhich, in fact, may vary materially. Malthus admits, in fact, that\nthe 'elasticity' is continually changing; and therefore repudiates the\ninterpretation which seemed to make all improvement hopeless. Why,\nthen, distinguish the 'check' as something apart from the instinct?\nIf, in any case, we accept this explanation, does not the theory\nbecome a 'truism,' or at least a commonplace, inoffensive but hardly\ninstructive? Does it amount to more than the obvious statement that\nprudence and foresight are desirable and are unfortunately scarce?\n\n\nIII. MORAL RESTRAINT\n\nThe change in the theory of 'checks' raises another important\nquestion. Malthus now introduced a modification upon which his\nsupporters laid great stress. In the new version the 'checks' which\nproportion population to means of subsistence are not simply 'vice and\nmisery,' but 'moral restraint, vice, and misery.'[228] How, precisely,\ndoes this modify the theory? How are the different 'checks' related?\nWhat especially is meant by 'moral' in this connection? Malthus takes\nhis ethical philosophy pretty much for granted, but is clearly a\nUtilitarian according to the version of Paley.[229] He agrees with\nPaley that 'virtue evidently consists in educing from the materials\nwhich the Creator has placed under our guidance the greatest sum of\nhuman happiness.'[230] He adds to this that our 'natural impulses are,\nabstractedly considered, good, and only to be distinguished by their\nconsequences.' Hunger, he says, as Bentham had said, is the same in\nitself, whether it leads to stealing a loaf or to eating your own\nloaf. He agrees with Godwin that morality means the 'calculation of\nconsequences,'[231] or, as he says with Paley, implies the discovery\nof the will of God by observing the effect of actions upon happiness.\nReason then regulates certain innate and practically unalterable\ninstincts by enabling us to foretell their consequences. The\nreasonable man is influenced not simply by the immediate\ngratification, but by a forecast of all the results which it will\nentail. In these matters Malthus was entirely at one with the\nUtilitarians proper, and seems to regard their doctrine as\nself-evident.\n\nHe notices briefly one logical difficulty thus introduced. The\n'checks' are vice, misery, and moral restraint. But why distinguish\nvice from misery? Is not conduct vicious which causes misery,[232] and\nprecisely because it causes misery? He replies that to omit 'vice'\nwould confuse our language. Vicious conduct may cause happiness in\nparticular cases; though its general tendency would be pernicious. The\nanswer is not very clear; and Malthus, I think, would have been more\nlogical if he had stuck to his first theory, and regarded vice as\nsimply one form of imprudence. Misery, that is, or the fear of misery,\nand the indulgence in conduct which produces misery are the 'checks'\nwhich limit population; and the whole problem is to make the ultimate\nsanction more operative upon the immediate conduct. Man becomes more\nvirtuous simply as he becomes more prudent, and is therefore governed\nin his conduct by recognising the wider and more remote series of\nconsequences. There is, indeed, the essential difference that the\nvirtuous man acts (on whatever motives) from a regard to the 'greatest\nhappiness of the greatest number,' and not simply from self-regard.\nStill the ultimate and decisive criterion is the tendency of conduct\nto produce misery; and if Malthus had carried this through as\nrigorously as Bentham, he would have been more consistent. The 'moral\ncheck' would then have been simply a department of the prudential;\nincluding prudence for others as well as for ourselves. One reason for\nthe change is obvious. His assumption enables him to avoid coming into\nconflict with the accepted morality of the time. On his exposition\n'vice' occasionally seems not to be productive of misery but an\nalternative to misery; and yet something bad in itself. Is this\nconsistent with his Utilitarianism? The vices of the South Sea\nIslanders, according to him, made famine less necessary; and, if they\ngave pleasure at the moment, were they not on the whole beneficial?\nMalthus again reckons among vices practices which limit the population\nwithout causing 'misery' directly.[233] Could he logically call them\nvicious? He wishes to avoid the imputation of sanctioning such\npractices, and therefore condemns them by his moral check; but it\nwould be hard to prove that he was consistent in condemning them. Or,\nagain, there is another familiar difficulty. The Catholic church\nencourages marriage as a remedy for vice; and thereby stimulates both\npopulation and poverty. How would Malthus solve the problem: is it\nbetter to encourage chastity and a superabundance of people, or to\nrestrict marriage at the cost of increasing temptation to vice? He\nseems to evade the point by saying that he recommends both chastity\nand abstinence from marriage. By 'moral restraint,' as he explains, he\nmeans 'restraint from marriage from prudential motives, with a conduct\nstrictly moral during the period of this restraint.' 'I have never,'\nhe adds, 'intentionally deviated from this sense.'[234] A man, that\nis, should postpone taking a wife, and should not console himself by\ntaking a mistress. He is to refrain from increasing the illegitimate\nas well as from increasing the legitimate population. It is not\nsurprising that Malthus admits that this check has 'in past ages\noperated with inconsiderable force.'[235] In fact Malthus, as a\nthoroughly respectable and decent clergyman, manages by talking about\nthe 'moral restraint' rather to evade than to answer some awkward\nproblems of conduct; but at the cost of some inconsequence.\n\nBut another result of this mode of patching up his argument is more\nimportant. The 'vices of mankind,' he says in an unusually rhetorical\nsummary of his historical inquiry,[236] 'are active and able ministers\nof depopulation. They are the precursors in the great army of\ndestruction, and often finish the dreadful work themselves. But should\nthey fail in the war of extermination, sickly seasons, epidemics,\npestilence, and plague advance in terrific array, and sweep off their\nthousands and ten thousands. Should success still be incomplete,\ngigantic inevitable famine stalks in the rear, and at one mighty blow\nlevels the population with the food of the world.' The life of the\nrace, then, is a struggle with misery; its expansion is constantly\nforcing it upon this array of evils; and in proportion to the\nelasticity is the severity of the evils which follow. This is not only\na 'gloomy view,' but again seems to suggest that 'vice' is an\nalternative to 'misery.' Vices are bad, it would seem, but at least\nthey obviate the necessity for disease and famine. Malthus probably\nsuppressed the passage because he thought it liable to this\ninterpretation. It indicates, however, a real awkwardness, if not\nsomething more, in his exposition. He here speaks as if there was room\nfor a fixed number of guests at his banquet. Whatever, therefore,\nkeeps the population to that limit must be so far good. If he had\nconsidered his 'moral check' more thoroughly, he might have seen that\nthis does not correspond to his real meaning. The 'moral' and the\nprudential checks are not really to be contrasted as alternative, but\nco-operative. Every population, vicious or virtuous, must of course\nproportion its numbers to its means of support. That gives the\nprudential check. But the moral check operates by altering the\ncharacter of the population itself. From the purely economic point of\nview, vice is bad because it lowers efficiency. A lazy, drunken, and\nprofligate people would starve where an industrious, sober, and honest\npeople would thrive. The check of vice thus brings the check of misery\ninto play at an earlier stage. It limits by lowering the vitality and\nsubstituting degeneration for progress. The check, therefore, is\nessentially mischievous. Though it does not make the fields barren, it\nlowers the power of cultivation. Malthus had recognised this when he\npointed out, as we have seen, that emergence from the savage state\nmeant the institution of marriage and property and, we may infer, the\ncorrelative virtues of chastity, industry, and honesty. If men can\nform large societies, and millions can be supported where once a few\nthousands were at starvation point, it is due to the civilisation\nwhich at every stage implies 'moral restraint' in a wider sense than\nMalthus used the phrase. An increase of population by such means was,\nof course, to be desired. If Malthus emphasises this inadequately, it\nis partly, no doubt, because the Utilitarian view of morality tended\nto emphasise the external consequences rather than the alteration of\nthe man himself. Yet the wider and sounder view is logically implied\nin his reasoning--so much so that he might have expressed his real aim\nmore clearly if he had altered the order of his argument. He might\nhave consistently taken the same line as earlier writers and declared\nthat he desired, above all things, the increase of population. He\nwould have had indeed to explain that he desired the increase of a\nsound and virtuous population; and that hasty and imprudent increase\nled to misery and to a demoralisation which would ultimately limit\nnumbers in the worst way. We shall see directly how nearly he accepts\nthis view. Meanwhile, by insisting upon the need of limitation, he was\nled to speak often as if limitation by any means was good and the one\nthing needful, and the polemic against Godwin in the first edition had\ngiven prominence to this side of the question. Had he put his views in\na different shape, he would perhaps have been so edifying that he\nwould have been disregarded. He certainly avoided that risk, and had\nwhatever advantage is gained by stating sound doctrine paradoxically.\n\nWe shall, I think, appreciate his real position better by considering\nhis approximation to the theory which, as we know, was suggested to\nDarwin by a perusal of Malthus.[237] There is a closer resemblance\nthan appears at first. The first edition concludes by two chapters\nafterwards omitted, giving the philosophical application of his\ntheory. He there says that the 'world is a mighty process of God not\nfor the trial but for the creation and formation of the mind.'[238] It\nis not, as Butler thought, a place of 'probation,' but a scene in\nwhich the higher qualities are gradually developed. Godwin had quoted\nFranklin's view that 'mind' would become 'omnipotent over matter.'\nMalthus holds that, as he puts it, 'God is making matter into mind.'\nThe difference is that Malthus regards evil in general not as a sort\nof accident of which we can get rid by reason; but as the essential\nstimulus which becomes the efficient cause of intellectual activity.\nThe evils from which men suffer raise savage tribes from their\nindolence, and by degrees give rise to the growth of civilisation. The\nargument, though these chapters were dropped by Malthus, was taken up\nby J. B. Sumner, to whom he refers in later editions.[239] It is, in\nfact, an imperfect way of stating a theory of evolution. This appears\nin his opening chapters upon the 'moral restraint.'[240] He explains\nthat moral and physical evils are 'instruments employed by the Deity'\nto admonish us against such conduct as is destructive of happiness.\nDiseases are indications that we have broken a law of nature. The\nplague of London was properly interpreted by our ancestors as a hint\nto improve the sanitary conditions of the town. Similarly, we have to\nconsider the consequences of obeying our instincts. The desire of food\nand necessaries is the most powerful of these instincts, and next to\nit the passion between the sexes. They are both good, for they are\nboth natural; but they have to be properly correlated. To 'virtuous\nlove' in particular we owe the 'sunny spots' in our lives, where the\nimagination loves to bask. Desire of necessaries gives us the stimulus\nof the comfortable fireside; and love adds the wife and children,\nwithout whom the fireside would lose half its charm. Now, as a rule,\nthe sexual passion is apt to be in excess. The final cause of this\nexcess is itself obvious. We cannot but conceive that it is an object\nof 'the Creator that the earth should be replenished.'[241] To secure\nthat object, it is necessary that 'there should be a tendency in the\npopulation to increase faster than food.' If the two instincts were\ndifferently balanced, men would be content though the population of a\nfertile region were limited to the most trifling numbers. Hence the\ninstinct has mercifully been made so powerful as to stimulate\npopulation, and thus indirectly and eventually to produce a population\nat once larger and more comfortable. On the one hand, it is of the\nvery utmost importance to the happiness of mankind that they should\nnot increase too fast,[242] but, on the other hand, if the passion\nwere weakened, the motives which make a man industrious and capable of\nprogress would be diminished also. It would, of course, be simpler to\nomit the 'teleology'; to say that sanitary regulations are made\nnecessary by the plague, not that the plague is divinely appointed to\nencourage sanitary regulations. Malthus is at the point of view of\nPaley which becomes Darwinism when inverted; but the conclusion is\nmuch the same. He reaches elsewhere, in fact, a more precise view of\nthe value of the 'moral restraint.' In a chapter devoted for once to\nan ideal state of things,[243] he shows how a race thoroughly imbued\nwith that doctrine would reconcile the demands of the two instincts.\nPopulation would in that case increase, but, instead of beginning by\nan increase, it would begin by providing the means of supporting. No\nman would become a father until he had seen his way to provide for a\nfamily. The instinct which leads to increasing the population would\nthus be intrinsically as powerful as it now is; but when regulated by\nprudence it would impel mankind to begin at the right end. Food would\nbe ready before mouths to eat it.\n\n\nIV. SOCIAL REMEDIES\n\nThis final solution appears in Malthus's proposed remedies for the\nevils of the time. Malthus[244] declares that 'an increase of\npopulation when it follows in its natural order is both a great\npositive good in itself, and absolutely necessary' to an increase of\nwealth. This natural order falls in, as he observes, with the view to\nwhich Mirabeau had been converted, that 'revenue was the source of\npopulation,' and not population of revenue.[245] Malthus holds\nspecifically that, 'in the course of some centuries,' the population\nof England might be doubled or trebled, and yet every man be 'much\nbetter fed and clothed than he is at present.'[246] He parts company\nwith Paley, who had considered the ideal state to be 'that of a\nlaborious frugal people ministering to the demands of an opulent\nluxurious nation.'[247] That, says Malthus, is 'not an inviting\nprospect.' Nothing but a conviction of absolute necessity could\nreconcile us to the 'thought of ten millions of people condemned to\nincessant toil, and to the privation of everything but absolute\nnecessaries, in order to minister to the excessive luxuries of the\nother million.' But he denies that any such necessity exists. He\nwishes precisely to see luxury spread among the poorer classes. A\ndesire for such luxury is the best of all checks to population, and\none of the best means of raising the standard. It would, in fact,\ncontribute to his 'moral restraint.' So, too, he heartily condemns\nthe hypocrisy of the rich, who professed a benevolent desire to\nbetter the poor, and yet complained of high wages.[248] If, he says\nelsewhere,[249] a country can 'only be rich by running a successful\nrace for low wages, I should be disposed to say, Perish such riches!'\nNo one, in fact, could see more distinctly than Malthus the\ndemoralising influence of poverty, and the surpassing importance of\nraising the people from the terrible gulf of pauperism. He refers to\nColquhoun's account of the twenty thousand people who rose every\nmorning in London without knowing how they were to be supported; and\nobserves that 'when indigence does not produce overt acts of vice, it\npalsies every virtue.'[250] The temptations to which the poor man is\nexposed, and the sense of injustice due to an ignorance of the true\ncause of misery, tend to 'sour the disposition, to harden the heart,\nand deaden the moral sense.' Unfortunately, the means which have been\nadopted to lessen the evil have tended to increase it. In the first\nplace, there was the master-evil of the poor-laws. Malthus points out\nthe demoralising effects of these laws in chapters full of admirable\ncommon sense, which he was unfortunately able to enforce by fresh\nillustrations in successive editions. He attends simply to the\nstimulus to population. He thinks that if the laws had never existed,\nthe poor would now have been much better off.[251] If the laws had\nbeen fully carried out, every labourer might have been certain that\nall his children would be supported, or, in other words, every check\nto population would have been removed.[252] Happily, the becoming\npride of the English peasantry was not quite extinct; and the poor-law\nhad to some extent counteracted itself, or taken away with one hand\nwhat it gave with the other, by placing the burthen upon the\nparishes.[253] Thus landlords have been more disposed to pull down\nthan to build cottages, and marriage has been checked. On the whole,\nhowever, Malthus could see in the poor-laws nothing but a vast agency\nfor demoralising the poor, tempered by a system of petty tyrannical\ninterference. He proposes, therefore, that the poor-law should be\nabolished. Notice should be given that no children born after a\ncertain day should be entitled to parish help; and, as he quaintly\nsuggests, the clergyman might explain to every couple, after\npublishing the banns, the immorality of reckless marriage, and the\nreasons for abolishing a system which had been proved to frustrate the\nintentions of the founders.[254] Private charity, he thinks, would\nmeet the distress which might afterwards arise, though humanity\nimperiously requires that it should be 'sparingly administered.' Upon\nthis duty he writes a sensible chapter.[255] To his negative proposals\nMalthus adds a few of the positive kind. He is strongly in favour of a\nnational system of education, and speaks with contempt of the\n'illiberal and feeble' arguments opposed to it. The schools, he\nobserves, might confer 'an almost incalculable benefit' upon society,\nif they taught 'a few of the simplest principles of political\neconomy.'[256] He had been disheartened by the prejudices of the\nignorant labourer, and felt the incompatibility of a free government\nwith such ignorance. A real education, such as was given in Scotland,\nwould make the poor not, as alarmists had suggested, more inflammable,\nbut better able to detect the sophistry of demagogues.[257] He is, of\ncourse, in favour of savings banks,[258] and approves friendly\nsocieties, though he is strongly opposed to making them compulsory, as\nthey would then be the poor-law in a new form.[259] The value of every\nimprovement turns upon its effect in encouraging the 'moral\nrestraint.' Malthus's ultimate criterion is always, Will the measure\nmake people averse to premature marriage? He reaches the apparently\ninconsistent result that it might be desirable to make an allowance\nfor every child beyond six.[260] But this is on the hypothesis that\nthe 'moral restraint' has come to be so habitual that no man marries\nuntil he has a fair prospect of maintaining a family of six. If this\nwere the practical code, the allowance in cases where the expectation\nwas disappointed would not act as an encouragement to marriage, but as\na relief under a burthen which could not have been anticipated. Thus\nall Malthus's teaching may be said to converge upon this practical\npoint. Add to the Ten Commandments the new law, 'Thou shalt not marry\nuntil there is a fair prospect of supporting six children.' Then\npopulation will increase, but sufficient means for subsistence will\nalways be provided beforehand. We shall make sure that there is a\nprovision for additional numbers before, not after, we add to our\nnumbers. Food first and population afterwards gives the rule; thus we\nachieve the good end without the incidental evils.\n\nMalthus's views of the appropriate remedy for social evils\nundoubtedly show an imperfect appreciation of the great problems\ninvolved. Reckless propagation is an evil; but Malthus regards it as\nan evil which can be isolated and suppressed by simply adding a new\narticle to the moral code. He is dealing with a central problem of\nhuman nature and social order. Any modification of the sexual\ninstincts or of the constitution of the family involves a profound\nmodification of the whole social order and of the dominant religious\nand moral creeds. Malthus tacitly assumes that conduct is determined\nby the play of two instincts, unalterable in themselves, but capable\nof modification in their results by a more extensive view of\nconsequences. To change men's ruling motives in regard to the most\nimportant part of their lives is to alter their whole aims and\nconceptions of the world, and of happiness in every other relation. It\nsupposes, therefore, not a mere addition of knowledge, but a\ntransformation of character and an altered view of all the theories\nwhich have been embodied in religious and ethical philosophy. He\noverlooks, too, considerations which would be essential to a complete\nstatement. A population which is too prudent may suffer itself to be\ncrowded out by more prolific races in the general struggle for\nexistence; and cases may be suggested such as that of the American\ncolonies, in which an increase of numbers might be actually an\nadvantage by facilitating a more efficient organisation of labour.\n\nThe absence of a distinct appreciation of such difficulties gives to\nhis speculation that one-sided character which alienated his more\nsentimental contemporaries. It was natural enough in a man who was\nconstantly confronted by the terrible development of pauperism in\nEngland, and was too much tempted to assume that the tendency to\nreckless propagation was not only a very grave evil, but the ultimate\nsource of every evil. The doctrine taken up in this unqualified\nfashion by some of his disciples, and preached by them with the utmost\nfervour as the one secret of prosperity, shocked both the conservative\nand orthodox whose prejudices were trampled upon, and such Radicals as\ninherited Godwin's or Condorcet's theory of perfectibility. Harsh and\none-sided as it might be, however, we may still hold that it was of\nvalue, not only in regard to the most pressing difficulty of the day,\nbut also as calling attention to a vitally important condition of\nsocial welfare. The question, however, recurs whether, when the\ndoctrine is so qualified as to be admissible, it does not also become\na mere truism.\n\nAn answer to this question should begin by recognising one specific\nresemblance between his speculations and Darwin's. Facts, which appear\nfrom an older point of view to be proofs of a miraculous\ninterposition, become with Malthus, as with Darwin, the normal results\nof admitted conditions. Godwin had admitted that there was some\n'principle which kept population on a level with subsistence.' 'The\nsole question is,' says Malthus,[261] 'what is this principle? Is it\nsome obscure and occult cause? a mysterious interference of heaven,'\ninflicting barrenness at certain periods? or 'a cause open to our\nresearches and within our view?' Other writers had had recourse to the\nmiraculous. One of Malthus's early authorities was Suessmilch, who had\npublished his _Goettliche Ordnung_ in 1761, to show how Providence had\ntaken care that the trees should not grow into the sky. The\nantediluvians had been made long-lived in order that they might have\nlarge families and people an empty earth, while life was divinely\nshortened as the world filled up. Suessmilch, however, regarded\npopulation as still in need of stimulus. Kings might help Providence.\nA new Trajan would deserve to be called the father of his people, if\nhe increased the marriage-rate. Malthus replies that the statistics\nwhich the worthy man himself produced showed conclusively that the\nmarriages depended upon the deaths. The births fill up the vacancies,\nand the prince who increased the population before vacancies arose\nwould simply increase the rate of mortality.[262] If you want to\nincrease your birth-rate without absolutely producing famine, as he\nremarks afterwards,[263] make your towns unhealthy, and encourage\nsettlement by marshes. You might thus double the mortality, and we\nmight all marry prematurely without being absolutely starved. His own\naim is not to secure the greatest number of births, but to be sure\nthat the greatest number of those born may be supported.[264] The\ningenious M. Muret, again, had found a Swiss parish in which the mean\nlife was the highest and the fecundity smallest known. He piously\nconjectures that it may be a law of God that 'the force of life in\neach country should be in the inverse ratio of its fecundity.' He\nneeds not betake himself to a miracle, says Malthus.[265] The case is\nsimply that in a small and healthy village, where people had become\naware of the importance of the 'preventive check,' the young people\nput off marriage till there was room for them, and consequently both\nlowered the birth-rate and raised the average duration of life.\n\nNothing, says Malthus very forcibly, has caused more errors than the\nconfusion between 'relative and positive, and between cause and\neffect.'[266] He is here answering the argument that because the poor\nwho had cows were the most industrious, the way to make them\nindustrious was to give them cows. Malthus thinks it more probable\nthat industry got the cow than that the cow produced industry. This is\na trifling instance of a very general truth. People had been content\nto notice the deaths caused by war and disease, and to infer at once\nthat what caused death must diminish population. Malthus shows the\nnecessity of observing other collateral results. The gap may be made\nso great as to diminish population; but it may be compensated by a\nmore rapid reproduction; or, the rapidity of reproduction may itself\nbe the cause of the disease; so that to remove one kind of mortality\nmay be on some occasion to introduce others. The stream is dammed on\none breach to flow more strongly through other outlets.[267]\n\nThis is, I conceive, to say simply that Malthus was introducing a\nreally scientific method. The facts taken in the true order became at\nonce intelligible instead of suggesting mysterious and irregular\ninterferences. Earlier writers had been content to single out one\nparticular set of phenomena without attending to its place in the more\ngeneral and complex processes, of which they formed an integral part.\nInfanticide, as Hume had pointed out, might tend to increase\npopulation.[268] In prospect, it might encourage people to have\nbabies; and when babies came, natural affection might prevent the\nactual carrying out of the intention. To judge of the actual effect,\nwe have to consider the whole of the concrete case. It may be carried\nout, as apparently in the South Sea Islands, so generally as to limit\npopulation; or it may be, as in China, an indication that the pressure\nis so great that a number of infants become superfluous. Its\nsuppression might, in the one case, lead to an increase of the\npopulation; in the other, to the increase of other forms of mortality.\nMalthus's investigations illustrate the necessity of referring every\nparticular process to its place in the whole system, of noting how any\ngiven change might set up a set of actions and reactions in virtue of\nthe general elasticity of population, and thus of constantly referring\nat every step to the general conditions of human life. He succeeded in\nmaking many points clear, and of showing how hastily many inferences\nhad been drawn. He explained, for example, why the revolutionary wars\nhad not diminished the population of France, in spite of the great\nnumber of deaths,[269] and thus gave an example of a sound method of\ninquiry which has exercised a great influence upon later observers.\nMalthus was constantly misunderstood and misrepresented, and his\nopponents often allege as fatal objections to his doctrine the very\nfacts by which it was really supported. But we may, I think, say, that\nsince his writing no serious economical writer has adopted the old\nhasty guesses, or has ventured to propose a theory without regard to\nthe principles of which he first brought out the full significance.\n\n\nV. POLITICAL APPLICATION\n\nThis I take to indicate one real and permanent value of Malthus's\nwritings. He introduced a new method of approaching the great social\nproblems. The value of the method may remain, however inaccurate may\nbe the assumptions of facts. The 'tendency,' if interpreted to mean\nthat people are always multiplying too rapidly, may be a figment. If\nit is taken as calling attention to one essential factor in the case,\nit is a most important guide to investigation. This brings out another\nvital point. The bearing of the doctrine upon the political as well as\nupon the economical views of the Utilitarians is of conspicuous\nimportance. Malthus's starting-point, as we have seen, was the\nopposition to the doctrine of 'perfectibility.' Hard facts, which\nGodwin and Condorcet had neglected, were fatal to their dreams. You\nhave, urged Malthus, neglected certain undeniable truths as to the\nunalterable qualities of human nature, and, therefore, your theories\nwill not work. The revolutionists had opposed an ideal 'state of\nnature' to the actual arrangements of society. They imagined that the\n'state of nature' represented the desirable consummation, and that the\nconstitution of the 'natural' order could be determined from certain\nabstract principles. The equality of man, and the absolute rights\nwhich could be inferred by a kind of mathematical process, supplied\nthe necessary dogmatic basis. The antithesis to the state of nature\nwas the artificial state, marked by inequality, and manifesting its\nspirit by luxury. Kings, priests, and nobles had somehow established\nthis unnatural order; and to sweep them away summarily was the way of\nbringing the natural order into full activity. The ideal system was\nalready potentially in existence, and would become actual when men's\nminds were once cleared from superstition, and the political made to\ncorrespond to the natural rights of man. To this Malthus had replied,\nas we have seen, that social inequality was not a mere arbitrary\nproduct of fraud and force, but an expedient necessary to restrain the\nprimitive instincts of mankind. He thus coincides with Bentham's\npreference of 'security' to 'equality,' and illustrates the real\nsignificance of that doctrine. Property and marriage, though they\ninvolve inequality, were institutions of essential importance. Godwin\nhad pushed his theories to absolute anarchy; to the destruction of all\nlaw, for law in general represented coercion or an interference with\nthe state of nature. Malthus virtually asserted that the metaphysical\ndoctrine was inapplicable because, men being what they are, these\nconclusions were incompatible with even the first stages of social\nprogress. This means, again, that for the metaphysical method Malthus\nis substituting a scientific method. Instead of regarding all\ngovernment as a kind of mysterious intervention from without, which\nhas somehow introduced a fatal discord into the natural order, he\ninquires what are the facts; how law has been evolved; and for what\nreason. His answer is, in brief, that law, order, and inequality have\nbeen absolutely necessary in order to limit tendencies which would\notherwise keep men in a state of hopeless poverty and depression.\n\nThis gives the 'differentia' of the Utilitarian considered as one\nspecies of the genus 'Radical.' Malthus's criticism of Paine is\nsignificant.[270] He agrees with Paine that the cause of popular\nrisings is 'want of happiness.' But Paine, he remarks, was 'in many\nimportant points totally ignorant of the structure of society'; and\nhas fallen into the error of attributing all want of happiness to\ngovernment. Consequently, Paine advocates a plan for distributing\ntaxes among the poorest classes, which would aggravate the evils a\nhundredfold. He fully admits with Paine that man has rights. The true\nline of answer would be to show what those rights are. To give this\nanswer is not Malthus's present business; but there is one right, at\nany rate, which a man does not and cannot possess: namely, the 'right\nto subsistence when his labour will not fairly purchase it.' He does\nnot possess it because he cannot possess it; to try to secure it is to\ntry to 'reverse the laws of nature,' and therefore to produce cruel\nsuffering by practising an 'inhuman deceit.' The Abbe Raynal had said\nthat a man had a right to subsist 'before all social laws.' Man had\nthe same right, replied Malthus, as he had to live a hundred or a\nthousand years. He may live, _if he can_ without interfering with\nothers. Social laws have, in fact, enlarged the power of subsistence;\nbut neither before nor after their institution could an unlimited\nnumber subsist. Briefly, the question of fact comes before the\nquestion of right, and the fault of the revolutionary theorists was to\nsettle the right without reference to the possibility of making the\nright correspond to the fact.\n\nHence Malthus draws his most emphatic political moral. The admission\nthat all evil is due to government is the way to tyranny. Make men\nbelieve that government is the one cause of misery, and they will\ninevitably throw the whole responsibility upon their rulers; seek for\nredress by cures which aggravate the disease; and strengthen the hands\nof those who prefer even despotism to anarchy. This, he intimates, is\nthe explanation of the repressive measures in which the\ncountry-gentlemen had supported Pitt. The people had fancied that by\ndestroying government they would make bread cheap; government was\nforced to be tyrannical in order to resist revolution; while its\nsupporters were led to 'give up some of the most valuable privileges\nof Englishmen.'[271] It is then of vital importance to settle what is\nand what is not to be set down to government. Malthus, in fact, holds\nthat the real evils are due to underlying causes which cannot be\ndirectly removed, though they may be diminished or increased, by\nlegislators. Government can do something by giving security to\nproperty, and by making laws which will raise the self-respect of the\nlower classes. But the effect of such laws must be slow and gradual;\nand the error which has most contributed to that delay in the progress\nof freedom, which is 'so disheartening to every liberal mind,'[272] is\nthe confusion as to the true causes of misery. Thus, as he has already\nurged, professed economists could still believe, so long after the\npublication of Adam Smith's work, that it was 'in the power of the\njustices of the peace or even of the omnipotence of parliament to\nalter by a _fiat_ the whole circumstances of the country.'[273] Yet\nmen who saw the absurdity of trying to fix the price of provisions\nwere ready to propose to fix the rate of wages. They did not see that\none term of the proportion implied the other. Malthus's whole\ncriticism of the poor-law, already noticed, is a commentary upon this\ntext. It is connected with a general theory of human nature. The\nauthor of nature, he says, has wisely made 'the passion of self-love\nbeyond expression stronger than the passion of benevolence.'[274] He\nmeans, as he explains, that every man has to pursue his own welfare\nand that of his family as his primary object. Benevolence, of course,\nis the 'source of our purest and most refined pleasures,' and so\nforth; but it should come in as a supplement to self-love. Therefore\nwe must never admit that men have a strict right to relief. That is to\ninjure the very essential social force. 'Hard as it may seem in\nindividual instances, dependent poverty ought to be held\ndisgraceful.'[275] The spirit of independence or self-help is the one\nthing necessary. 'The desire of bettering our condition and the fear\nof making it worse, like the _vis medicatrix_ in physics, is the _vis\nmedicatrix naturae_ in politics, and is continually counteracting the\ndisorders arising from narrow human institutions.'[276] It is only\nbecause the poor-laws have not quite destroyed it, that they have not\nquite ruined the country. The pith of Malthus's teaching is fairly\nexpressed in his last letter to Senior.[277] He holds that the\nimprovement in the condition of the great mass of the labouring\nclasses should be considered as the main interest of society. To\nimprove their condition, it is essential to impress them with the\nconviction that they can do much more for themselves than others can\ndo for them, and that the _only_ source of permanent improvement is\nthe improvement of their moral and religious habits. What government\ncan do, therefore, is to maintain such institutions as may strengthen\nthe _vis medicatrix_, or 'desire to better our condition,' which\npoor-laws had directly tended to weaken. He maintains in his letter to\nSenior, that this desire is 'perfectly feeble' compared with the\ntendency of the population to increase, and operates in a very slight\ndegree upon the great mass of the labouring class.[278] Still, he\nholds that on the whole the 'preventive checks' have become stronger\nrelatively to the positive,[279] and, at any rate, all proposals must\nbe judged by their tendency to strengthen the preventive.\n\nMalthus was not a thoroughgoing supporter of the 'do-nothing'\ndoctrine. He approved of a national system of education, and of the\nearly factory acts, though only as applied to infant labour. So, as we\nshall see, did all the Utilitarians. The 'individualism,' however, is\nnot less decided; and leads him to speak as though the elasticity of\npopulation were not merely an essential factor in the social problem,\nbut the sole principle from which all solutions must be deduced. He is\nthus led, as I have tried to show, to a narrow interpretation of his\n'moral check.' He is apt to take 'vice' simply as a product of\nexcessive pressure, and, in his general phrases at least, to overlook\nits reciprocal tendency to cause pressure. The 'moral check' is only\npreventive or negative, not a positive cause of superior vigour. A\nsimilar defect appears in his theory of the _vis medicatrix_. He was,\nI hold, perfectly right in emphasising the importance of individual\nresponsibility. No reform can be permanent which does not raise the\nmorality of the individual. His insistence upon this truth was of the\nhighest importance, and it is to be wished that its importance might\nbe more fully recognised to-day. The one-sidedness appears in his\nproposal to abolish the poor-law simply. That became the most\nconspicuous and widely accepted doctrine. All men of 'sense,' said\nSydney Smith--certainly a qualified representative of the class--in\n1820, agree, first, that the poor-law must be abolished; and secondly,\nthat it must be abolished very gradually.[280] That is really to\nassume that by refusing to help people at all, you will force them to\nhelp themselves. There is another alternative, namely, that they may,\nas Malthus himself often recognises, become demoralised by excessive\npoverty. To do simply nothing may lead to degeneration instead of\nincreased energy. The possibility of an improved law, which might act\nas a moral discipline instead of a simply corrupting agency, is simply\nleft out of account; and the tendency to stimulate reckless population\nis regarded not only as one probable consequence, but as the very\nessence of all poor-laws. Upon Malthus's assumptions, the statement\nthat sound political and social theories must be based upon systematic\ninquiry into facts, meant that the individual was the ultimate\nunalterable unit, whose interest in his own welfare gave the one\nfulcrum for all possible changes. The ideal 'state of nature' was a\nfiction. The true basis of our inquiries is the actual man known to us\nby observation. The main fault of this being was the excess of the\ninstinct of multiplication, and the way to improve him was to show how\nit might conflict with the instinct of self-preservation. In this\nshape the doctrine expressed the most characteristic tendency of the\nUtilitarians, and divided them from the Socialists or believers in\nabstract rights of man.\n\n\nVI. RENT\n\nHere, then, we are at a central point of the Utilitarian creed. The\nexpansive force of population is, in a sense, the great motive power\nwhich moulds the whole social structure; or, rather, it forces\ntogether the independent units, and welds them into an aggregate. The\ninfluence of this doctrine upon other economical speculations is of\nthe highest importance. One critical stage in the process is marked by\nthe enunciation of the theory of rent, which was to become another\nessential article of the true faith. The introduction of this doctrine\nis characteristic, and marks the point at which Ricardo superseded\nMalthus as chief expositor of the doctrine.\n\nMalthus's views were first fully given in his _Inquiry into Rent_, the\nsecond of three pamphlets which he published during the corn-law\ncontroversy of 1814-15.[281] The opinions now stated had, he says,\nbeen formed in the course of his lecturing at Haileybury; and he made\nthem public on account of their bearing upon the most absorbing\nquestions of the time. The connection of the theory with Malthus's\nspeculations and with the contemporary difficulties is indeed obvious.\nThe landlord had clearly one of the reserved seats at the banquet of\nnature. He was the most obvious embodiment of 'security' as opposed to\nequality. Malthus, again, had been influenced by the French economists\nand their theory of the 'surplus fund,' provided by agriculture.\nAccording to them, as he says,[282] this fund or rent constitutes the\nwhole national wealth. In his first edition he had defended the\neconomists against some of Adam Smith's criticisms; and though he\naltered his views and thought that they had been led into preposterous\nerrors, he retained a certain sympathy for them. Agriculture has still\na certain 'pre-eminence.' God has bestowed upon the soil the\n'inestimable quality of being able to maintain more persons than are\nnecessary to work it.'[283] It has the special virtue that the supply\nof necessaries generates the demand. Make more luxuries and the price\nmay fall; but grow more food and there will be more people to eat it.\nThis, however, seems to be only another way of stating an unpleasant\nfact. The blessing of 'fertility' counteracts itself. As he argues in\nthe essay,[284] an equal division of land might produce such an\nincrease of population as would exhaust any conceivable increase of\nfood. These views--not, I think, very clear or consistently worked\nout--lead apparently to the conclusion that the fertility is indeed a\nblessing, but on condition of being confined to a few. The result, in\nany case, is the orthodox theory of rent. The labourer gets less than\nhe would if the products of the soil were equally distributed. Both\nwages and profits must fall as more is left to rent, and that this\nactually happens, he says, with unusual positiveness, is an\n'incontrovertible truth.'[285] The fall enables the less fertile land\nto be cultivated, and gives an excess of produce on the more fertile.\n'This excess is rent.'[286] He proceeds to expound his doctrine by\ncomparing land to a set of machines for making corn.[287] If, in\nmanufacture, a new machine is introduced every one adopts it. In\nagriculture the worst machines have still to be used; and those who\nhave the best and sell at the same price, can appropriate the surplus\nadvantage. This, he declares, is a law 'as invariable as the action of\nthe principle of gravity.'[288] Yet Smith and others have overlooked a\n'principle of the highest importance'[289] and have failed to see that\nthe price of corn, as of other things, must conform to the cost of\nproduction. The same doctrine was expounded in the same year by Sir\nEdward West;[290] and, as it seems to me, more clearly and simply.\nWest, like Malthus, says that he has to announce a principle\noverlooked by Adam Smith. This is briefly that 'each equal additional\nquantity of work bestowed on agriculture yields an actually diminished\nreturn.' He holds that profits fall as wealth increases, but he denies\nAdam Smith's view that this is a simple result of increased\ncompetition.[291] Competition would equalise, but would not lower\nprofits, for 'the productive powers of manufactures are constantly\nincreasing.' In agriculture the law is the opposite one of diminishing\nreturns. Hence the admitted fall of profits shows that the necessity\nof taking inferior soils into cultivation is the true cause of the\nfall.\n\nSuch coincidences as that between Malthus and West are common enough,\nfor very obvious reasons. In this case, I think, there is less room\nfor surprise than usual. The writer generally credited with the\ndiscovery of the rent doctrine is James Anderson, who had stated it\nas early as 1777.[292] The statement, however, did not attract\nattention until at the time of West and Malthus it was forced upon\nobservers by the most conspicuous facts of the day. Adam Smith and\nother economists had, as Malthus notices, observed what is obvious\nenough, that rent in some way represented a 'net produce'--a something\nwhich remained after paying the costs of production. So much was\nobvious to any common-sense observer. In a curious paper of December\n1804,[293] Cobbett points out that the landlords will always keep the\nprofits of farmers down to the average rate of equally agreeable\nbusinesses. This granted, it is a short though important step to the\ntheory of rent. The English system had, in fact, spontaneously\nanalysed the problem. The landlord, farmer, and labourer represented\nthe three interests which might elsewhere be combined. Prices raised\nby war and famine had led to the enclosure of wastes and the breaking\nup of pastures. The 'margin of cultivation' was thus illustrated by\nfacts. Farmers were complaining that they could not make a profit if\nprices were lowered. The landed classes were profiting by a rise of\nprice raised, according to a familiar law, in greater proportion than\nthe deficiency of the harvest. Facts of this kind were, one must\nsuppose, familiar to every land-agent; and to discover the law of\nrent, it was only necessary for Malthus and West to put them in their\nnatural order. The egg had only to be put on its end, though that, as\nwe know, is often a difficult task. When the feat was accomplished\nconsequences followed which were fully developed by Ricardo.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[203] Mr. James Bonar's _Malthus and his Work_ (1885) gives an\nadmirable account of Malthus. The chief original authorities are a\nlife by Bishop Otter, prefixed to a second edition of the _Political\nEconomy_ (1831), and an article by Empson, Malthus's colleague, in the\n_Edinburgh Review_ for January 1837.\n\n[204] _Political Justice_ (3rd edition, 1798), ii. bk. viii. chap.\nix., p. 514.\n\n[205] Wallace wrote in answer to Hume, _A Dissertation on the Numbers\nof Mankind in Ancient and Modern Times_ (1753), and _Various Prospects\nof Mankind_, and _Nature and Providence_ (1761). Godwin refers to the\nlast.\n\n[206] _Political Justice_, ii. 520.\n\n[207] _Ibid._ ii. 528.\n\n[208] First published in 1795, after the first edition, as Godwin\nremarks, of the _Political Justice_.\n\n[209] _Ami des hommes_ (reprint of 1883), p. 15.\n\n[210] _Ami des hommes_, p. 26.\n\n[211] See the curious debate in _Parl. Hist._ xiv. 1318-1365.\n\n[212] The seventh edition of Price's _Observations on Reversionary\nPayments_, etc. (1812), contains a correspondence with Pitt (i. 216,\netc.). The editor, W. Morgan, accuses Pitt of adopting Price's plans\nwithout due acknowledgment and afterwards spoiling them.\n\n[213] _Essay on Population_, p. 18. In _Observations_, ii. 141, he\nestimates the diminution at a million and a half. Other books\nreferring to the same controversy are Howlett's _Examination of Dr.\nPrice's Essay_ (1781); _Letter to Lord Carlisle_, by William Eden\n(1744-1814), first Lord Auckland; William Wales's _Enquiry into\nPresent State of Population_, etc. (1781); and Geo. Chalmers's\n_Estimate of the Comparative Strength of Great Britain_ (1782 and\nseveral later editions).\n\n[214] _Essay_ (first edition), p. 339.\n\n[215] _Memoirs_, etc. (1819), ii. 10.\n\n[216] So Sir James Stewart, whose light was extinguished by Adam\nSmith, begins his _Enquiry into the Principles of Political Economy_\n(1767) by discussing the question of population, and compares the\n'generative faculty' to a spring loaded with a weight, and exerting\nitself in proportion to the diminution of resistance (_Works_, 1805,\ni. 22). He compares population to 'rabbits in a warren.' Joseph\nTownsend, in his _Journey Through Spain_ (1792), to whom Malthus\nrefers, had discussed the supposed decay of the Spanish population,\nand illustrates his principles by a geometric progression: see ii.\n213-56, 386-91. Eden, in his book on the poor (i. 214), quotes a tract\nattributed to Sir Matthew Hale for the statement that the poor\nincrease on 'geometrical progression.'\n\n[217] _Malthus and his Work_, p. 85.\n\n[218] Voltaire says in the _Dictionnaire Philosophique_ (art.\n'Population'): 'On ne propage point en Progression Geometrique. Tous\nles calculs qu'on a faits sur cette pretendue multiplication sont des\nchimeres absurdes.' They had been used to reconcile the story of the\ndeluge with the admitted population of the world soon afterwards.\n\n[219] _Essay_ (1826), ii 453 _n._ I cite from this, the last edition\npublished in Malthus's lifetime, unless otherwise stated.\n\n[220] _Essay_, ii. 251 (bk. iii. ch. xiv.).\n\n[221] _Ibid._ (1798), p. 141.\n\n[222] _Essay_, ii. 449 (Appendix).\n\n[223] _Essay_, ii. 473 (Appendix).\n\n[224] _Ibid._ (Second Edition), p. 400. The passage is given in full\nin _Malthus and his Work_, p. 307.\n\n[225] _Essay_, i. 469 (bk. ii. ch. x.). Eden had made the same remark.\n\n[226] _Ibid._ ii. 229 (bk. iii. ch. xiv.).\n\n[227] Correspondence in Senior's _Three Essays on Population_ (1829).\n\n[228] _Essay_, i. 234 (bk. i. ch. ii.).\n\n[229] Mr. Bonar thinks (_Malthus and his Work_, p. 324) that Malthus\nfollowed Paley's predecessor, Abraham Tucker, rather than Paley. The\ndifference is not for my purpose important. In any case, Malthus's\nreferences are to Paley.\n\n[230] _Essay_, ii. 266 (bk. iv. ch. i.).\n\n[231] _Essay_ (first edition), p. 212.\n\n[232] _Ibid._ i. 16 _n._ (bk. i. ch. ii.).\n\n[233] See _e.g._ his remarks upon Condorcet in _Essay_, ii. 8 (bk.\niii. ch. i.); and Owen in _Ibid._ ii. 48 (bk. iii ch. ii.).\n\n[234] _Essay_, i. 15 _n._ (bk. i. ch. ii.); and see _Ibid._ (edit. of\n1807) ii. 128.\n\n[235] _Ibid._ (1807) ii. 128.\n\n[236] _Ibid._ (1807) ii. 3 (bk. ii. ch. ii.). (Omitted in later\neditions.)\n\n[237] Mr. A. R. Wallace, Darwin's fellow-discoverer of the doctrine,\nalso learned it from Malthus. See Clodd's _Pioneers of Evolution_.\nMalthus uses the phrase 'struggle for existence' in relation to a\nfight between two savage tribes in the first edition of his _Essay_,\np. 48. In replying to Condorcet, Malthus speaks (_Essay_, ii. 12, bk.\niii. ch. i.) of the possible improvement of living organisms. He\nargues that, though a plant may be improved, it cannot be indefinitely\nimproved by cultivation. A carnation could not be made as large as a\ntulip. It has been said that this implies a condemnation by\nanticipation of theories of the development of species. This is hardly\ncorrect. Malthus simply urges against Condorcet that our inability to\nfix limits precisely does not imply that there are no limits. This, it\nwould seem, must be admitted on all hands. Evolution implies definite\nthough not precisely definable limits. Life may be lengthened, but not\nmade immortal.\n\n[238] _Essay_ (first edition), 353.\n\n[239] _Ibid._ 42 _n._ (bk. iii. ch. iii.)\n\n[240] _Essay_, ii. 301-36 (bk. iv. ch. i. and ii.). Sumner's _Treatise\non the Records of the Creation, and on the Moral Attributes of the\nCreator: with Particular Reference to the Jewish History and the\nConsistency of the Principle of Population with the Wisdom and\nGoodness of the Creator_ (1815), had gained the second Burnett prize.\nIt went through many editions; and shows how Cuvier confirms Genesis,\nand Malthus proves that the world was intended to involve a\ncompetition favourable to the industrious and sober. Sumner's view of\nMalthus is given in Part ii., chaps, v. and vi. In previous chapters\nhe has supported Malthus's attack on Godwin and Condorcet.\n\n[241] _Essay_, ii. 266 (bk. iv. ch. i.).\n\n[242] _Essay_, ii 268 (bk. iv. ch. i.).\n\n[243] _Ibid._ (bk. iv. ch. ii.).\n\n[244] _Essay_, 241 (bk. iii. ch. iv.).\n\n[245] _Ibid._ ii. 241 (bk. iii. ch. xiv.).\n\n[246] _Ibid._ ii. 293 (bk. iv. ch. iv.).\n\n[247] _Ibid._ ii. 425 (bk. iv. ch. xiii.). Malthus expresses a hope\nthat Paley had modified his views upon population, and refers to a\npassage in the _Natural Theology_.\n\n[248] _Essay_, ii. 292 (bk. iv. ch. iv.).\n\n[249] _Political Economy_ (1836), p. 214.\n\n[250] _Essay_, ii. 298 (bk. iv. ch. iv.).\n\n[251] _Ibid._ ii. 86 (bk. iii. ch. vi.).\n\n[252] _Ibid._ ii. 87 (bk. iii. ch. vi.).\n\n[253] _Essay_, ii. 90 (bk. iii. ch. vi.).\n\n[254] _Ibid._ ii. 338 (bk. iv. ch. viii.).\n\n[255] _Ibid._ ii. (bk. iv. ch. x.).\n\n[256] _Ibid._ ii. 353 (bk. iv. ch. ix.).\n\n[257] _Essay_, ii. 356 (bk. iv. ch. ix.).\n\n[258] _Ibid._ ii. 407 (bk. iv. ch. xii.).\n\n[259] _Ibid._ ii. 375 (bk. iv. ch. xi.).\n\n[260] _Ibid._ ii. 429 (bk. iv. ch. xiii.).\n\n[261] _Essay of 1807_ (bk. iii. ch. ii., and vol. ii. p. 111). The\nphrases quoted are toned down in later editions.\n\n[262] _Essay_, i. 330 (bk. ii. ch. iv.).\n\n[263] _Ibid._ ii. 300 (bk. iv. ch. v.).\n\n[264] _Ibid._ ii. 405 (bk. iv. ch. xiii.).\n\n[265] _Ibid._ i. 343 (bk. ii. ch. v.).\n\n[266] _Essay_, ii. 424 (bk. iv. ch. xiii.).\n\n[267] _Ibid._ ii. 304 (bk. iv. ch. v.).\n\n[268] _Essay_, i. 75 (bk. i. ch. v.).\n\n[269] _Ibid._ (bk. ii. ch. vi.).\n\n[270] _Essay_, ii. 318 (bk. iv. ch. vi.).\n\n[271] _Essay_, ii. 315 (bk. iv. ch. v.).\n\n[272] _Ibid._ ii. 326 (bk. iv. ch. vi.).\n\n[273] _Ibid._ ii. 78 (bk. iii. ch. v.).\n\n[274] _Essay_, ii. 454 (Appendix).\n\n[275] _Ibid._ ii. 82 (bk. iii. ch. vi.).\n\n[276] _Ibid._ ii. 90 (bk. iii. ch. vi.).\n\n[277] Senior's _Three Lectures_, p. 86.\n\n[278] Senior's _Three Lectures_, p. 60.\n\n[279] _Essay_, i. 534 (bk. ii. ch. xiii.).\n\n[280] Smith's _Works_ (1859), i. 295.\n\n[281] _Observations on the Effects of the Corn-laws, 1814; Inquiry\ninto the Nature and Progress of Rent, 1815_; and _The Grounds of an\nOpinion on the Policy of restricting the Importation of Foreign Corn_,\nintended as an appendix to the _Observations on the Corn-laws_, 1815.\n\n[282] _Inquiry into Rent_, p. 1.\n\n[283] _Ibid._ p. 16.\n\n[284] _Essay_, ii. 35 (bk. iii. ch. ii.).\n\n[285] _Inquiry into Rent_, p. 20.\n\n[286] _Ibid._ p. 18.\n\n[287] _Ibid._ p. 38.\n\n[288] _Inquiry into Rent_, p. 20.\n\n[289] _Ibid._ p. 37.\n\n[290] _Essay on the Application of Capital to Land, by a Fellow of\nUniversity College, Oxford, 1815._\n\n[291] _Essay_, p. 19.\n\n[292] _In An Inquiry into the Nature of the Corn-laws_, and again\n(1801) in _Observations on Agriculture_, etc., vol. v. 401-51.\n\n[293] _Political Works_, i. 485, etc. In this paper, I may add,\nCobbett, not yet a Radical, accepts Malthus's view of the tendency of\nthe human species to multiply more quickly than its support. He does\nnot mention Malthus, but speaks of the belief as universally admitted,\nand afterwards illustrates it amusingly by saying that, in his\nploughboy days, he used to wonder that there was always just enough\nhay for the horses and enough horses for the hay.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nRICARDO\n\n\nI. RICARDO'S STARTING-POINT\n\nDavid Ricardo,[294] born 19th April 1772, was the son of a Dutch Jew\nwho had settled in England, and made money upon the Stock Exchange.\nRicardo had a desultory education, and was employed in business from\nhis boyhood. He abandoned his father's creed, and married an\nEnglishwoman soon after reaching his majority. He set up for himself\nin business, and, at a time when financial transactions upon an\nunprecedented scale were giving great opportunities for speculators,\nhe made a large fortune, and about 1814 bought an estate at Gatcombe\nPark, Gloucestershire. He withdrew soon afterwards from business, and\nin 1819 became member of parliament. His death on 11th September 1823\ncut short a political career from which his perhaps too sanguine\nfriends anticipated great results. His influence in his own department\nof inquiry had been, meanwhile, of the greatest importance. He had\nshown in his youth some inclination for scientific pursuits; he\nestablished a laboratory, and became a member of scientific societies.\nThe perusal of Adam Smith's _Wealth of Nations_ in 1799 gave him an\ninterest in the application of scientific methods to the questions\nwith which he was most conversant. Accepting Adam Smith as the leading\nauthority, he proceeded to think out for himself certain doctrines,\nwhich appeared to him to have been insufficiently recognised by his\nteacher. The first result of his speculations was a pamphlet published\nin 1809 upon the depreciation of the currency. Upon that topic he\nspoke as an expert, and his main doctrines were accepted by the famous\nBullion Committee. Ricardo thus became a recognised authority on one\ngreat set of problems of the highest immediate interest. Malthus's\n_Inquiry into Rent_ suggested another pamphlet; and in 1817,\nencouraged by the warm pressure of his friend, James Mill, he\npublished his chief book, the _Principles of Political Economy and\nTaxation_. This became the economic Bible of the Utilitarians. The\ntask of a commentator or interpreter is, for various reasons, a\ndifficult one.\n\nThere is a certain analogy between Ricardo and a very different\nwriter, Bishop Butler. Each of them produced a great effect by a short\ntreatise, and in each case the book owed very little to the ordinary\nliterary graces. Ricardo's want of literary training, or his natural\ndifficulty of utterance, made his style still worse than Butler's;\nbut, like Butler, he commands our respect by his obvious sincerity and\nearnestness. He is content when he has so expressed his argument that\nit can be seized by an attentive reader. He is incapable of, or\nindifferent to, clear and orderly exposition of principles. The logic\nis there, if you will take the trouble to look for it. Perhaps we\nought to be flattered by this tacit reliance upon our patience. 'You,'\nRicardo, like Butler, seems to say to us, 'are anxious for truth: you\ndo not care for ornament, and may be trusted to work out the full\napplication of my principles.' In another respect the two are alike.\nButler's argument has impressed many readers as a demolition of his\nown case. It provokes revolt instead of adhesion. Ricardo, an orthodox\neconomist, laid down principles which were adopted by Socialists to\nupset his own assumptions. Such a God as you worship, said Butler's\nopponents, is an unjust being, and therefore worse than no God. Such a\nsystem as you describe, said Ricardo's opponents, is an embodiment of\ninjustice, and therefore to be radically destroyed. Admitting the\nlogic, the argument may be read as a _reductio ad absurdum_ in both\ncases.\n\nRicardo has involved himself in certain special difficulties. In the\nfirst place, he presupposes familiarity with Adam Smith. The\n_Principles_ is a running comment upon some of Smith's theories, and\nno attempt is made to reduce them to systematic order. He starts by\nlaying down propositions, the proof of which comes afterwards, and is\nthen rather intimated than expressly given. He adopts the terminology\nwhich Smith had accepted from popular use,[295] and often applies it\nin a special significance, which is at least liable to be\nmisunderstood by his readers, or forgotten by himself. It is\ndifficult, again, to feel sure whether some of his statements are to\nbe taken as positive assertions of fact, or merely as convenient\nassumptions for the purposes of his argument. Ricardo himself, as\nappears in his letters, was painfully aware of his own awkwardness of\nexpression, and upon that point alone all his critics seem to be in\ntolerable agreement. Happily, it will be enough for my purpose if I\ncan lay down his essential premises without following him to the\nremoter deductions.\n\nRicardo's pamphlet upon Malthus (1815) gives a starting-point. Ricardo\ncordially adopts Malthus's theory of rent, but declares that it is\nfatal to some of Malthus's conclusions. Malthus, we have seen, wished\nto regard rent as in some sense a gift of Providence--a positive\nblessing due to the fertility of the soil. Ricardo maintains, on the\ncontrary, that 'the interest of the landlord is necessarily opposed to\nthe interest of every other class in the community.'[296] The landlord\nis prosperous when corn is scarce and dear; all other persons when it\nis plentiful and cheap. This follows upon Malthus's own showing. As\nmen are forced to have recourse to inferior soils, the landlord\nobtains a larger share of the whole produce; and, moreover, since corn\nalso becomes more valuable, will have a larger share of a more\nvaluable product. The question apparently in dispute--whether we\nshould be glad that some land is better than the worst, or sorry\nbecause all is not equal to the best--seems rather idle. The real\nquestion, however, is whether rent, being a blessing, should be kept\nup by protection,[297] or, being a curse, should be brought down by\ncompetition? What is the real working of the system? Set the trade\nfree, says Ricardo, and the capital will be withdrawn from the poor\nland and employed upon manufactures, to be exchanged for the corn of\nother countries.[298] The change must correspond to a more\nadvantageous distribution of capital, or it would not be adopted. The\nprinciple involved in this last proposition is, he adds, one of the\n'best established in the science of political economy, and by no one\nis more readily admitted than by Mr. Malthus.' To enforce protection\nwould be, on Malthus's illustration, to compel us to use the 'worst\nmachines, when, at a less expense, we could hire the very best from\nour neighbours.'[299] Briefly, then, the landlord's interest is\nopposed to the national interest, because it enforces a worse\ndistribution of capital. He compels us to get corn from his worst\nland, instead of getting it indirectly, but in greater quantity, from\nour spinning-jennies.\n\nFor Ricardo, as for Malthus, the ultimate driving force is the\npressure of population. The mass of mankind is always struggling to\nobtain food, and is able to multiply so rapidly as to exhaust any\nconceivable increase of supplies. The landlord class alone profits.\nThe greater the struggle for supply the greater will be the share of\nthe whole produce which must be surrendered to it. Beyond this,\nhowever, lies the further problem which specially occupied Ricardo.\nHow will the resulting strain affect the relations of the two\nremaining classes, the labourers and the capitalists? The ultimate\nevil of protection is the bad distribution of capital. But capital\nalways acts by employing labour. The farmer's capital does not act by\nitself, but by enabling his men to work. Hence, to understand the\nworking of the industrial machinery, we have to settle the relation of\nwages and profits. Ricardo states this emphatically in his preface.\nRent, profit, and wages, he says, represent the three parts into which\nthe whole produce of the earth is divided. 'To determine the laws\nwhich regulate this distribution is the principal problem in political\neconomy'; and one, he adds, which has been left in obscurity by\nprevious writers.[300] His investigations are especially directed by\nthe purpose thus defined. He was the first writer who fairly brought\nunder distinct consideration what he held, with reason, to be the most\nimportant branch of economical inquiry.\n\nThere was clearly a gap in the economic doctrine represented by the\n_Wealth of Nations_. Adam Smith was primarily concerned with the\ntheory of the 'market.' He assumes the existence of the social\narrangement which is indicated by that phrase. The market implies a\nconstitution of industrial agencies such that, within it, only one\nprice is possible for a given commodity, or, rather, such that a\ndifference of price cannot be permanent. According to the accepted\nillustration, the sea is not absolutely level, but it is always\ntending to a level.[301] A permanent elevation at one point is\nimpossible. The agency by which this levelling or equilibrating\nprocess is carried out is competition, involving what Smith called the\n'higgling of the market.' The momentary fluctuation, again, supposes\nthe action of 'supply and demand,' which, as they vary, raise and\ndepress prices. To illustrate the working of this machinery, to show\nhow previous writers had been content to notice a particular change\nwithout following out the collateral results, and had thus been led\ninto fallacies such as that of the 'mercantile system,' was Smith's\nprimary task.\n\nBeyond or beneath these questions lie difficulties, which Smith,\nthough not blind to their existence, treated in a vacillating and\ninconsistent fashion. Variations of supply and demand cause\nfluctuations in the price; but what finally determines the point to\nwhich the fluctuating prices must gravitate? We follow the process by\nwhich one wave propagates another; but there is still the question,\nWhat ultimately fixes the normal level? Upon this point Ricardo could\nfind no definite statement in his teacher. 'Supply and demand' was a\nsacred phrase which would always give a verbal answer, or indicate the\nimmediate cause of variations on the surface. Beneath the surface\nthere must be certain forces at work which settle why a quarter of\ncorn 'gravitates' to a certain price; why the landlord can get just so\nmany quarters of corn for the use of his fields; and why the produce,\nwhich is due jointly to the labourer and the farmer, is divided in a\ncertain fixed proportion. To settle such points it is necessary to\nanswer the problem of distribution, for the play of the industrial\nforces is directed by the constitution of the classes which co-operate\nin the result. Ricardo saw in Malthus's doctrines of rent and of\npopulation a new mode of approaching the problem. What was wanted, in\nthe first place, was to systematise the logic adopted by his\npredecessors. Rent, it was clear, could not be both a cause and an\neffect of price, though at different points of his treatise Smith had\napparently accepted each view of the relation. We must first settle\nwhich is cause and which effect; and then bring our whole system into\nthe corresponding order. For the facts, Ricardo is content to trust\nmainly to others. The true title of his work should be that which his\ncommentator, De Quincey, afterwards adopted, the _Logic of Political\nEconomy_. This aim gives a partial explanation of the characteristic\nfor which Ricardo is most generally criticised. He is accused of being\nabstract in the sense of neglecting facts. He does not deny the\ncharge. 'If I am too theoretical (which I really believe to be the\ncase) you,' he says to Malthus, 'I think, are too practical.'[302] If\nMalthus is more guided than Ricardo by a reference to facts, he has of\ncourse an advantage. But so far as Malthus or Adam Smith\ntheorised--and, of course, their statement of facts involved a\ntheory--they were at least bound to be consistent. It is one thing to\nrecognise the existence of facts which your theory will not explain,\nand to admit that it therefore requires modification. It is quite\nanother thing to explain each set of facts in turn by theories which\ncontradict each other. That is not to be historical but to be\nmuddleheaded. Malthus and Smith, as it seemed to Ricardo, had\noccasionally given explanations which, when set side by side,\ndestroyed each other. He was therefore clearly justified in the\nattempt to exhibit these logical inconsistencies and to supply a\ntheory which should be in harmony with itself. He was so far neither\nmore nor less 'theoretical' than his predecessors, but simply more\nimpressed by the necessity of having at least a consistent theory.\n\nThere was never a time at which logic in such matters was more wanted,\nor its importance more completely disregarded. Rash and ignorant\ntheorists were plunging into intricate problems and propounding\nabstract solutions. The enormous taxation made necessary by the war\nsuggested at every point questions as to the true incidence of the\ntaxes. Who really gained or suffered by the protection of corn? Were\nthe landlords, the farmers, or the labourers directly interested?\nCould they shift the burthen upon other shoulders or not? What, again,\nit was of the highest importance to know, was the true 'incidence' of\ntithes, of a land-tax, of the poor-laws, of an income-tax, and of all\nthe multitudinous indirect taxes from which the national income was\nderived? The most varying views were held and eagerly defended. Who\nreally paid? That question interested everybody, and occupies a large\npart of Ricardo's book. The popular answers involved innumerable\ninconsistencies, and were supported by arguments which only required\nto be confronted in order to be confuted. Ricardo's aim was to\nsubstitute a clear and consistent theory for this tangle of perplexed\nsophistry. In that sense his aim was in the highest degree\n'practical,' although he left to others the detailed application of\nhis doctrines to the actual facts of the day.\n\n\nII. THE DISTRIBUTION PROBLEM\n\nThe rent doctrine gives one essential datum. A clear comprehension of\nrent is, as he was persuaded, 'of the utmost importance to political\neconomy.'[303] The importance is that it enables him to separate one\nof the primary sources of revenue from the others. It is as though, in\nthe familiar illustration, we were considering the conditions of\nequilibrium of a fluid; and we now see that one part may be considered\nas a mere overflow, resulting from (not determining) the other\nconditions. The primary assumption in the case of the market is the\nlevel of price. When we clearly distinguish rent on one side from\nprofits and wages on the other, we see that we may also assume a level\nof profits. There cannot, as Ricardo constantly says, 'be two rates of\nprofit,' that is, at the same time and in the same country. But so\nlong as rent was lumped with other sources of revenue it was\nimpossible to see, what Malthus and West had now made clear, that in\nagriculture, as in manufactures, the profits of the producer must\nconform to the principle. Given their theory, it follows that the\npower of land to yield a great revenue does not imply a varying rate\nof profit or a special bounty of nature bestowed upon agriculture. It\nmeans simply that, since the corn from the good and bad land sells at\nthe same price, there is a surplus on the good. But as that surplus\nconstitutes rent, the farmer's rate of profit will still be uniform.\nThus we have got rid of one complication, and we are left with a\ncomparatively simple issue. We have to consider the problem, What\ndetermines the distribution as between the capitalist and the\nlabourer? That is the vital question for Ricardo.\n\nRicardo's theory, in the first place, is a modification of Adam\nSmith's. He accepts Smith's statement that wages are determined by the\n'supply and demand of labourers,' and by the 'price of commodities on\nwhich their wages are expended.'[304] The appeal to 'supply and\ndemand' implies that the rate of wages depends upon unchangeable\neconomic conditions. He endorses[305] Malthus's statement about the\nabsurdity of considering 'wages' as something which may be fixed by\nhis Majesty's 'Justices of the Peace,' and infers with Malthus that\nwages should be left to find their 'natural level.' But what precisely\nis this 'natural level?' If the Justice of the Peace cannot fix the\nrate of wages, what does fix them? Supply and demand? What, then, is\nprecisely meant in this case by the supply and demand? The 'supply' of\nlabour, we may suppose, is fixed by the actual labouring population at\na given time. The 'demand,' again, is in some way clearly related to\n'capital.' As Smith again had said,[306] the demand for labour\nincreases with the 'increase of revenue and \"stock,\" and cannot\npossibly increase without it.' Ricardo agrees that 'population\nregulates itself by the funds which are to employ it, and therefore\nalways increases or diminishes with the increase or diminution of\ncapital.'[307] It was indeed a commonplace that the increase of\ncapital was necessary to an increase of population, as it is obvious\nenough that population must be limited by the means of subsistence\naccumulated. Smith, for example, goes on to insist upon this in one of\nthe passages which partly anticipates Malthus.[308] But this does not\nenable us to separate profit from wages, or solve Ricardo's problem.\nWhen we speak of supply and demand as determining the price of a\ncommodity, we generally have in mind two distinct though related\nprocesses. One set of people is growing corn, and another working coal\nmines. Each industry, therefore, has a separate existence, though each\nmay be partly dependent upon the other. But this is not true of labour\nand capital. They are not products of different countries or\nprocesses. They are inseparable constituents of a single process.\nLabour cannot be maintained without capital, nor can capital produce\nwithout labour. Capital, according to Ricardo's definition, is the\n'part of the wealth of a country which is employed in production, and\nconsists of food, clothing, raw materials, machinery, etc., necessary\nto give effect to labour.'[309] That part, then, of capital which is\napplied to the support of the labourer--his food, clothing, and so\nforth--is identical with wages. To say that, if it increases, his\nwages increase is to be simply tautologous. If, on the other hand, we\ninclude the machinery and raw materials, it becomes difficult to say\nin what sense 'capital' can be taken as a demand for labour. Ricardo\ntells Malthus that an accumulation of profit does not, as Malthus had\nsaid, necessarily raise wages[310]; and he ultimately decided, much\nto the scandal of his disciple, M'Culloch, that an increase of 'fixed\ncapital' or machinery might be actually prejudicial, under certain\ncircumstances, to the labourer. The belief of the labouring class that\nmachinery often injures them is not, he expressly says, 'founded on\nprejudice and error, but is conformable to the correct principles of\npolitical economy.'[311] The word 'capital,' indeed, was used with a\nvagueness which covered some of the most besetting fallacies of the\nwhole doctrine. Ricardo himself sometimes speaks as though he had in\nmind merely the supply of labourers' necessaries, though he regularly\nuses it in a wider sense. The generalities, therefore, about supply\nand demand, take us little further.\n\nFrom these difficulties Ricardo escapes by another method. Malthus's\ntheory of population gives him what he requires. The 'natural price of\nlabour' (as distinguished from its 'market price') is, as he asserts,\n'that price which is necessary to enable the labourers, one with\nanother, to subsist and perpetuate their race without either increase\nor diminution.'[312] This is the true 'natural price,' about which the\n'market price' oscillates. An increase of capital may raise wages for\na time above the natural price, but an increase of population will\nbring back the previous rate. Ricardo warns us, indeed, that this\nnatural price of labour is not to be regarded as something 'absolutely\nfixed and constant.'[313] It varies in different times and countries,\nand even in the same country at different times. An English cottager\nnow possesses what would once have been luxuries. Ricardo admits\nagain[314] that the wages of different classes of labourers may be\ndifferent, although he does not consider that this fact affects his\nargument. We may allow for it by considering the skilled labourer as 2\nor 1-1/2 labourers rolled into one. The assumption enables him to get\nout of a vicious circle. He is seeking to discover the proportions in\nwhich produce will be divided between the two classes, and which\nco-operate in the production. The 'demand and supply' principle may\nshow that an increase of capital will tend to increase wages, but even\nthat tendency, as he carefully points out, can only be admitted\nsubject to certain important reservations. In any case, if it explains\ntemporary fluctuations, it will not ascertain the point round which\nthe fluctuations take place. But the two variables, wages and profit,\nare clearly connected, and if we can once assume that one of these\nvariables is fixed by an independent law, we may explain in what way\nthe other will be fixed. Having got rid of 'rent,' the remaining\nproduce has to be divided between wages and profit. If the produce be\nfixed, the greater the share of the labourer the less will be the\nshare of the capitalist, and _vice versa_. But the labourer's share\nagain is determined by the consideration that it must be such as to\nenable him to keep up the population. The capitalist will get the\nsurplus produce after allowing to the labourer the share so\ndetermined. Everything turns ultimately upon this 'natural price'--the\nconstant which underlies all the variations.\n\nOne other point is implied. The population is limited, as we see, by\nthe necessity of raising supplies of food from inferior soils.\nMoreover, this is the sole limit. A different view had been taken\nwhich greatly exercised the orthodox economists. It was generally\nadmitted that in the progress of society the rate of profit declined.\nAdam Smith explained this by arguing that, as capital increased, the\ncompetition of capitalists lowered the rate. To this it was replied\n(as by West) that though competition equalised profits, it could not\nfix the rate of profit. The simple increase of capital does not prove\nthat it will be less profitably employed. The economists had\nconstantly to argue against the terrible possibility of a general\n'glut.' The condition of things at the peace had suggested this alarm.\nThe mischief was ascribed to 'over-production' and not to misdirected\nproduction. The best cure for our evils, as some people thought, would\nbe to burn all the goods in stock. On this version of the argument, it\nwould seem that an increase of wealth might be equivalent to an\nincrease of poverty. To confute the doctrine in this form, it was only\nnecessary to have a more intelligent conception of the true nature of\nexchange. As James Mill had argued in his pamphlet against Spence,\nevery increase of supply is also an increase of demand. The more there\nis to sell, the more there is to buy. The error involved in the theory\nof a 'glut' is the confusion between a temporary dislocation of the\nmachinery of exchange, which can and will be remedied by a new\ndirection of industry, and the impossible case of an excess of wealth\nin general.[315] Malthus never quite cleared his mind of this error,\nand Ricardo had to argue the point with him. Abundance of capital\ncannot by itself, he says, 'make capital less in demand.' The 'demand\nfor capital is infinite.'[316] The decline in the rate of profit,\ntherefore, depends upon another cause. 'If, with every accumulation of\nprofit, we could tack a piece of fresh fertile land to our Island,\nprofits would never fall.'[317] Fertile land, however, is limited. We\nhave to resort to inferior soil, and therefore to employ capital at a\nless advantage. In the _Principles_ he enforces the same doctrine with\nthe help of Say, who had shown 'most satisfactorily' that any amount\nof capital might be employed.[318] If, in short, labour and capital\nwere always equally efficient, there would be no limit to the amount\nproducible. If the supply of food and raw materials can be multiplied,\nwealth can be multiplied to any amount. The admitted tendency of\nprofits to fall must therefore be explained simply and solely by the\ngrowing difficulty of producing the food and the raw material.\n\nRicardo's doctrine, then, is Malthus carried out more logically. Take\na nation in a state of industrial equilibrium. The produce of the\nworst soil just supports the labourer, and leaves a profit to the\ncapitalist. The labourer gets just enough to keep up his numbers to\nthe standard; the capitalist just enough profit to induce him to keep\nup the capital which supports the labourer. Since there can be only\none rate of wages and only one rate of profit, this fixes the shares\ninto which the whole produce of the nation is divided, after leaving\nto the landlord the surplus produce of the more fertile soils.\nAccepting this scheme as a starting-point, we get a method for\ncalculating the results of any changes. We can see how a tax imposed\nupon rents or profits or wages will affect the classes which are thus\nrelated; how improvements in cultivation or machinery, or a new demand\nfor our manufactures, will act, assuming the conditions implied in\nthis industrial organisation; how, in short, any disturbance of the\nbalance will work, so as to produce a new equilibrium. Ricardo exerts\nall his ingenuity in working out the problem which, with the help of a\nfew assumptions, becomes mathematical. The arithmetical illustrations\nwhich he employed for the purpose became a nuisance in the hands of\nhis disciples. They are very useful as checks to general statements,\nbut lend themselves so easily to the tacit introduction of erroneous\nassumptions as often to give a totally false air of precision to the\nresults. Happily I need not follow him into that region, and may omit\nany consideration of the logical value of his deductions. I must be\ncontent to say that, so far as he is right, his system gives an\neconomic calculus for working out the ultimate result of assigned\neconomic changes. The pivot of the whole construction is the 'margin\nof cultivation'--the point at which the food for a pressing population\nis raised at the greatest disadvantages. 'Profits,' as he says,[319]\n'depend on high and low wages; wages on the price of necessaries; and\nthe price of necessaries chiefly on the price of food, because all\nother requisites may be increased almost without limit.'\n\nRicardo takes the actual constitution of society for granted. The\nthreefold division into landowners, capitalists, and labourers is\nassumed as ultimate. For him that is as much a final fact as to a\nchemist it is a final fact that air and water are composed of certain\nelements. Each class represents certain economic categories. The\nlandlord sits still and absorbs the overflow of wealth created by\nothers. The labourer acts a very important but in one respect a purely\npassive part. His whole means of subsistence are provided by the\ncapitalist, and advanced to him in the shape of wages. His share in\nthe process is confined to multiplying up to a fixed standard. The\ncapitalist is the really active agent. The labourer is simply one of\nthe implements used in production. His wages are part of the\ncapitalist's 'costs of production.' The capitalist virtually raises\nlabourers, one may say, so long as raising them is profitable, just as\nhe raises horses for his farm. Ricardo, in fact, points out that in\nsome cases it may be for the farmer's interest to substitute horses\nfor men.[320] If it be essential to any product that there should be a\ncertain number of labourers or a certain number of horses, that number\nwill be produced. But when the expense becomes excessive, and in the\ncase of labourers that happens as worse soils have to be broken up for\nfood, the check is provided through its effect upon the accumulation\nof capital. That, therefore, becomes the essential point. The whole\naim of the legislator should be to give facilities for the\naccumulation of capital, and the way to do that is to abstain from all\ninterference with the free play of the industrial forces. The test,\nfor example, of the goodness of a tax--or rather of its comparative\nfreedom from the evils of every tax--is that it should permit of\naccumulation by interfering as little as possible with the tendency\nof the capital to distribute itself in the most efficient way.\n\n\nIII. VALUE AND LABOUR\n\nTo solve the distribution problem, then, it is necessary to get behind\nthe mere fluctuations of the market, and to consider what are the\nultimate forces by which the market is itself governed. What effect\nhas this upon the theory of the market itself? This leads to a famous\ndoctrine.\n\nAccording to his disciple, M'Culloch, Ricardo's great merit was that\nhe 'laid down the fundamental theorem of the science of value.' He\nthus cleared up what had before been an 'impenetrable mystery,' and\nshowed the true relations of profit, wages, and prices.[321] Ricardo's\ntheory of value, again, was a starting-point of the chief modern\nSocialist theories. It marked, as has been said,[322] the point at\nwhich the doctrine of the rights of man changes from a purely\npolitical to an economical theory. Ricardo remarks in his first\nchapter that the vagueness of theories of value has been the most\nfertile source of economic errors. He admitted to the end of his life\nthat he had not fully cleared up the difficulty. Modern economists\nhave refuted and revised and discussed, and, let us hope, now made\neverything quite plain. They have certainly shown that some of\nRicardo's puzzles implied confusions singular in so keen a thinker.\nThat may serve as a warning against dogmatism. Boys in the next\ngeneration will probably be asked by examiners to expose the palpable\nfallacies of what to us seem to be demonstrable truths. At any rate,\nI must try to indicate the critical point as briefly as possible.\n\nThe word 'value,' in the first place, has varying meanings, which give\nan opportunity for writers of text-books to exhibit their powers of\nlucid exposition. The value of a thing in one sense is what it will\nfetch; the quantity of some other thing for which it is actually\nexchanged in the market. In that sense, as Ricardo incidentally\nobserves,[323] the word becomes meaningless unless you can say what is\nthe other thing. It is self-contradictory to speak as if a thing by\nitself could have a constant or any value. Value, however, may take a\ndifferent sense. It is the economic equivalent of the 'utility' of\nBentham's 'felicific calculus.' It means the 'lot of pleasure' which\ncauses a thing to be desirable. If we could tell how many units of\nutility it contained we could infer the rate of exchange for other\nthings. The value of anything 'in use' will correspond to the number\nof units of utility which it contains; and things which have the same\nquantity of 'utilities' will have the same 'exchangeable value.'\nRicardo can thus consider the old problem of finding 'an invariable\nmeasure of value.' He points out the difficulty of finding any\nparticular thing which will serve the purpose, inasmuch as the\nrelations of everything to everything else are constantly varying. He\ntherefore proposes to make use of an imaginary measure. If gold were\nalways produced under exactly the same circumstances, with the same\nlabour and the same capital, it would serve approximately for a\nstandard. Accordingly he gives notice that, for the purposes of his\nbook, he will assume this to be the case, and money to be 'invariable\nin value.'[324] We can thus, on the one hand, compare values at\ndifferent periods. A thing has the same value at all times which at\nall times requires 'the same sacrifice of toil and labour to produce\nit.'[325] The 'sacrifice' measures the 'utility,' and we may assume\nthat the same labour corresponds in all ages to the same psychological\nunit. But, on the other hand, at any given period things will exchange\nin proportion to the labour of producing them. This follows at once\nfrom Ricardo's postulates. Given the single rate of wages and profits,\nand assuming the capital employed to be in the same proportion, things\nmust exchange in proportion to the quantity of labour employed; for if\nI got the same value by employing one labourer as you get by employing\ntwo, my profits would be higher. Ricardo, indeed, has to allow for\nmany complexities arising from the fact that very different quantities\nof capital are required in different industries; but the general\nprinciple is given by the simplest case. Hence we have a measure of\nvalue, applicable at any given time and in comparing different times.\nIt implies, again, what M'Culloch sums up as the 'fundamental\ntheorem,' that the value of 'freely produced commodities' depends on\nthe quantity of labour required for their 'production.' What is made\nby two men is worth twice what is made by one man. That gives what\nM'Culloch calls the 'clue to the labyrinth.'\n\nThe doctrine leads to a puzzle. If I can measure the 'sacrifice,' can\nI measure the 'utility' which it gains? The 'utility' of an ounce of\ngold is not something 'objective' like its physical qualities, but\nvaries with the varying wants of the employer. Iron or coal may be\nused for an infinite variety of purposes and the utility will be\ndifferent in each. The thing may derive part of its 'utility' from its\nrelation to other things. The utility of my food is not really\nseparate from the utility of my hat; for unless I eat I cannot wear\nhats. My desire for any object, again, is modified by all my other\ndesires, and even if I could isolate a 'desire' as a psychological\nunit, it would not give me a fixed measure. Twice the article does not\ngive twice the utility; a double stimulus may only add a small\npleasure or convert it into agony. These and other difficulties imply\nthe hopelessness of searching for this chimerical unit of 'utility'\nwhen considered as a separate thing. It shifts and escapes from our\nhands directly we grasp it. Ricardo discusses some of these points in\nhis interesting chapter on 'Value and Riches.' Gold, he says, may cost\ntwo thousand times more than iron, but it is certainly not two\nthousand times as useful.[326] Suppose, again, that some invention\nenables you to make more luxuries by the same labour, you increase\nwealth but not value. There will be, say, twice as many hats, but each\nhat may have half its former value. There will be more things to\nenjoy, but they will only exchange for the same quantity of other\nthings. That is, he says, the amount of 'riches' varies, while the\namount of value is fixed. This, according to him, proves that value\ndoes not vary with 'utility.' 'Utility,' as he declares in his first\nchapter, is 'absolutely essential to value,' but it is 'not the\nmeasure of exchangeable value.'[327] A solution of these puzzles may\nbe sought in any modern text-book. Ricardo escapes by an apparently\nparadoxical conclusion. He is undertaking an impossible problem when\nhe starts from the buyers' desire of an 'utility.' Therefore he turns\nfrom the buyers to the sellers. The seller has apparently a measurable\nand definable motive--the desire to make so much per cent. on his\ncapital.[328] Ricardo, unfortunately, speaks as though the two parties\nto the bargain somehow represented mutually exclusive processes.\n'Supply and demand' determine the value of 'monopolised articles,' but\nthe cost of other articles depends _not_ 'on the state of demand and\nsupply,' _but_ 'on the increased or diminished cost of their\nproduction.'[329] Why 'not' and 'but'? If supply and demand\ncorresponds to the whole play of motives which determines the bargain,\nthis is like saying, according to the old illustration, that we must\nattribute the whole effect of a pair of scissors to one blade and not\nto the other. His view leads to the apparent confusion of taking for\nthe cause of value not our desire for a thing, but the sacrifice we\nmust make to attain it. Bentham[330] said, for example, that Ricardo\nconfused 'cost' with 'value.' The denial that utility must in some\nsense or other determine value perplexes an intelligible and\nconsistent meaning. It is clearly true, upon his postulates, that the\nvalue of goods, other than 'monopolised,' must conform to the cost of\nproduction. He speaks as if he confounded a necessary condition with\nan 'efficient cause,' and as if one of two correlative processes could\nbe explained without the other. But the fact that there is a\nconformity, however brought about, was enough for his purpose. The\ndemand of buyers, he would say, determines the particular direction of\nproduction: it settles whether hats should be made of silk or beaver;\nwhether we should grow corn or spin cotton. But the ultimate force is\nthe capitalist's desire for profit. So long as he can raise labourers'\nnecessaries by employing part of his capital, he can employ the labour\nas he chooses. He can always produce wealth; all the wealth produced\ncan be exchanged, and the demand always be equal to the supply, since\nthe demand is merely the other side of the supply. The buyer's tastes\ndecide how the capital shall be applied, but does not settle how much\nwealth there shall be, only what particular forms it shall take.\nSomehow or other it must always adjust itself so that the value of\neach particular kind shall correspond to the 'cost of production.' The\ncost of production includes the tools and the raw materials, which are\nthemselves products of previous labour. All capital itself is\nultimately the product of labour, and thus, as Ricardo incidentally\nsays, may be regarded as 'accumulated labour.'[331]\n\nThis phrase sums up the doctrine which underlies his theory of value\nand indicates its connection with the theory of distribution. Ricardo\nhad perceived that the supply and demand formula which would serve\nsufficiently in problems of exchange, or the fluctuations of\nmarket-price, could not be made to solve the more fundamental problem\nof distribution. We must look beneath the superficial phenomena and\nask what is the nature of the structure itself: what is the driving\nforce or the mainspring which works the whole mechanism. We seem,\nindeed, to be inquiring into the very origin of industrial\norganisation. The foundation of a sound doctrine comes from Adam\nSmith. Smith had said that in a primitive society the only rule would\nbe that things should exchange in proportion to the labour of getting\nthem. If it cost twice as much labour to kill a beaver as to kill a\ndeer, one beaver would be worth two deer. In accepting this bit of\nwhat Smith's commentator, Dugald Stewart,[332] calls 'theoretical' or\n'conjectural' history, Ricardo did not mean to state a historical\nfact. He was not thinking of actual Choctaws or Cherokees. The beaver\nwas exchanged for the deer about the time when the primitive man\nsigned the 'social contract.' He is a hypothetical person used for\npurposes of illustration and simplification. Ricardo is not really\ndealing with the question of origins; but he is not the less implying\na theory of structure. It did not matter that the 'social contract'\nwas historically a figment; it would serve equally well to explain\ngovernment. It did not matter that actual savages may have exchanged\nbeavers and deer by the help of clubs instead of competition in the\nmarket. The industrial fabric is what would have been had it been thus\nbuilt up. It can be constructed from base to summit by the application\nof his formula. As in the imaginary state of deer and beaver, we have\na number of independent persons making their bargains upon this\nprinciple of the equivalence of labour; and that principle is supposed\nto be carried out so that the most remote processes of the industrial\nmachinery can be analysed into results of this principle. This gives a\nsufficient clue to the whole labyrinth of modern industry, and there\nis no need of considering the extinct forms of social structure, which\nwe know to have existed, and under which the whole system of\ndistribution took place under entirely different conditions.[333] A\ngreat change has taken place since the time of the deer and beaver:\nthe capitalist has been developed, and has become the motive power.\nThe labourer's part is passive; and the 'value' is fixed by the\nbargaining between the proprietors of 'accumulated labour,' forced by\ncompetition to make equal profits, instead of being fixed by the\nequitable bargain between the two hunters exchanging the products of\ntheir individual labour. Essentially, however, the principle is the\nsame. In the last as in the first stage of society, things are\nexchanged in proportion to the labour necessary to produce them. Now\nit is plain enough that such a doctrine cannot lead to a complete\nsolution of the problem of distribution. It would be a palpably\ninadequate account of historical processes which have determined the\nactual relation of classes. The industrial mechanism has been\ndeveloped as a part of the whole social evolution; and, however\nimportant the economic forces, they have been inextricably blended\nwith all the other forces by which a society is built up. For the same\nreason, Ricardo's theorem would be inadequate 'sociologically,' or as\na formula which would enable us to predict the future distribution of\nwealth. It omits essential factors in the process, and therefore\nsupposes forces to act automatically and invariably which will in fact\nbe profoundly modified in societies differently organised and\ncomposed of individuals differing in character. The very fundamental\nassumptions as to the elasticity of population, and the accumulation\nof capital as wages and profits fluctuate, are clearly not absolute\ntruths. An increase of the capitalist's share, for example, at the\nexpense of wages, may lead to the lowered efficiency of the labourer;\nand, instead of the compensating process supposed to result from the\nstimulus to accumulation, the actual result may be a general\ndegeneration of the industry. Or, again, the capacity of labourers to\ncombine both depends and reacts upon their intelligence and moral\ncharacter, and will profoundly modify the results of the general\ncompetition.[334] Such remarks, now familiar enough, are enough to\nsuggest that a full explanation of the economic phenomena would\nrequire reference to considerations which lie beyond the proper sphere\nof the economist. Yet the economist may urge that he is making a fair\nand perhaps necessary abstraction. He may consider the forces to be\nconstant, although he may be fully aware that the assumption requires\nto be corrected when his formulae are applied to facts. He may consider\nwhat is the play at any given time of the operations of the market,\nthough the market organisation is itself dependent upon the larger\norganisation of which it is a product. He does not profess to deal in\n'sociology,' but 'pure political economy.' In that more limited\nsphere he may accept Ricardo's postulates. The rate of wages is fixed\nat any given moment by the 'labour market.' That is the immediate\norgan through which the adjustment is effected. Wages rise and fall\nlike the price of commodities, when for any reason the number of\nhirers or the number of purchasers varies. The 'supply and demand'\nformula, however, could not, as Ricardo saw, be summarily identified\nwith labour and capital. We must go behind the immediate phenomena to\nconsider how they are regulated by the ultimate moving power. Then,\nwith the help of the theories of population and rent, we find that the\nwages are one product of the whole industrial process. We must look\nbeyond the immediate market fluctuation to the effect upon the\ncapitalists who constitute the market. The world is conceived as one\ngreat market, in which the motives of the capitalist supply the motive\npower; and the share which goes to the labourer is an incidental or\ncollateral result of the working of the whole machinery. Now, though\nthe sociologist would say that this is quite inadequate for his\npurpose, and that we must consider the whole social structure, he may\nalso admit that the scheme has a validity in its own sphere. It\ndescribes the actual working of the mechanism at any given time; and\nit may be that in Ricardo's time it gave an approximate account of the\nfacts. To make it complete, it requires to be set, so to speak, in a\nmore general framework of theory; and we may then see that it cannot\ngive a complete solution. Still, as a consistent scheme which\ncorresponds to the immediate phenomena, it helps us to understand the\nplay of the industrial forces which immediately regulate the market.\n\nRicardo's position suggested a different line of reply. The doctrines\nthat capital is 'accumulated labour' and that all value is in\nproportion to the labour fell in with the Socialist theory. If value\nis created by labour, ought not 'labour' to possess what it makes? The\nright to the whole produce of labour seemed to be a natural\nconclusion. Ricardo might answer that when I buy your labour, it\nbecomes mine. I may consider myself to have acquired the rights of the\nreal creator of the wealth, and to embody all the labourers, whose\n'accumulated labour' is capital. Still, there is a difficulty. The\nbeaver and deer case has an awkward ethical aspect. To say that they\nare exchanged at such a rate seems to mean that they ought to be\nexchanged at the rate. This again implies the principle that a man has\na right to what he has caught; that is, to the whole fruits of his\nlabour. James Mill, as we have seen, starts his political treatise by\nassuming this as obvious.[335] He did not consider the possible\ninferences; for it is certainly a daring assumption that the principle\nis carried out by the economic system. According to Ricardo rent is\npaid to men who don't labour at all. The fundholder was a weight upon\nall industry, and as dead a weight as the landlord. The capitalist,\nRicardo's social mainspring, required at least cross-examination. He\nrepresents 'accumulated labour' in some fashion, but it is not plain\nthat the slice which he takes out of the whole cake is proportioned\naccurately to his personal labour. The right and the fact which\ncoincided in the deer and beaver period have somehow come to diverge.\n\nHere, then, we are at a point common to the two opposing schools.\nBoth are absolute 'individualists' in different senses. Society is\nbuilt up, and all industrial relations determined, by the competition\nof a multitude of independent atoms, each aiming at self-preservation.\nMalthus's principle applies this to the great mass of mankind.\nSystematically worked out, it has led to Ricardo's identification of\nvalue with quantities of labour. Keeping simply to the matter of fact,\nit shows how a small minority have managed to get advantages in the\nstruggle, and to raise themselves upon the shoulders of the struggling\nmass. Malthus shows that the resulting inequality prevents the\nstruggle from lowering every one to starvation point. But the\nadvantage was not obvious to the struggling mass which exemplified the\nstruggle for existence. If equality meant not the initial facts but\nthe permanent right, society was built upon injustice. Apply the\npolitical doctrine of rights of man to the economic right to wealth,\nand you have the Socialist doctrine of right to the whole produce of\nlabour. It is true that it is exceedingly difficult to say what each\nman has created when he is really part of a complex machinery; but\nthat is a problem to which Socialists could apply their ingenuity. The\nreal answer of the political economists was that although the existing\norder implied great inequalities of wealth it was yet essential to\nindustrial progress, and therefore to an improvement in the general\nstandard of comfort. This, however, was the less evident the more they\ninsisted upon the individual interest. The net result seemed to be\nthat by accident or inheritance, possibly by fraud or force, a small\nnumber of persons have got a much larger share of wealth than their\nrivals. Ricardo may expound the science accurately; and, if so, we\nhave to ask, What are the right ethical conclusions?\n\nFor the present, the Utilitarians seem to have considered this\nquestion as superfluous. They were content to take the existing order\nfor granted; and the question remains how far their conclusions upon\nthat assumption could be really satisfactory.\n\n\nIV. THE CLASSICAL POLITICAL ECONOMY.\n\nRicardo had worked out the main outlines of the 'Classical Political\nEconomy': the system which to his disciples appeared to be as clear,\nconsistent, and demonstrable as Euclid; and which was denounced by\ntheir opponents as mechanical, materialistic, fatalistic, and\ndegrading. After triumphing for a season, it has been of late years\noften treated with contempt, and sometimes banished to the limbo of\nextinct logomachies. It is condemned as 'abstract.' Of all delusions\non the subject, replies a very able and severe critic,[336] there is\nnone greater than the belief that it was 'wholly abstract and\nunpractical.' Its merits lay in its treatment of certain special\nquestions of the day; while in the purely scientific questions it was\nhopelessly confused and inconsistent. Undoubtedly, as I have tried to\npoint out, Malthus and Ricardo were reasoning upon the contemporary\nstate of things. The doctrine started from observation of facts; it\nwas too 'abstract' so far as it neglected elements in the concrete\nrealities which were really relevant to the conclusions. One cause of\nconfusion was the necessity of starting from the classification\nimplied in ordinary phrases. It is exemplified by the vague use of\nsuch words as 'capital,' 'value,' 'supply and demand.' Definitions, as\nis often remarked,[337] come at the end of an investigation, though\nthey are placed at the beginning of an exposition. When the primary\nconceptions to be used were still so shifting and contradictory as is\nimplied in the controversies of the day, it is no wonder that the\nformulae should be wanting in scientific precision. Until we have\ndetermined what is meant by 'force' we cannot have a complete science\nof dynamics. The economists imagined that they had reached the goal\nbefore they had got rid of ambiguities hidden in the accepted\nterminology. Meanwhile it will be enough if I try to consider broadly\nwhat was the nature of the body of statements which thus claimed to be\nan elaborated science.\n\nRicardo's purpose was to frame a calculus, to give a method of\nreasoning which will enable us to clinch our economic reasoning. We\nare to be sure that we have followed out the whole cycle of cause and\neffect. Capitalists, landowners, labourers form parts of a rounded\nsystem, implying reciprocal actions and reactions. The imposition of a\ntax or a tariff implies certain changes in existing relations: that\nchange involves other changes; and to trace out the total effect, we\nmust understand what are the ultimate conditions of equilibrium, or\nwhat are the processes by which the system will adjust itself to the\nnew conditions. To describe, again, the play of a number of reciprocal\nforces, we have to find what mathematicians call an 'independent\nvariable': some one element in the changes on which all other changes\nwill depend. That element, roughly speaking, ultimately comes out to\nbe 'labour.' The simplicity of the system gave an impression both of\nclearness and certainty, which was transferred from the reasoning to\nthe premises. The facts seemed to be established, because they were\nnecessary to the system. The first step to an estimate of the value of\nthe doctrine would be to draw up a statement of the 'postulates'\nimplied. Among them, we should have such formulae as the single rate of\nprofits and wages; which imply the 'transferability' of labour and\ncapital, or the flow of either element to the best-paid employment. We\nshould have again the Malthusian doctrine of the multiplication of\nlabour up to a certain standard; and the fact that scarcity means\ndearness and plenty cheapness. These doctrines at least are taken for\ngranted; and it may perhaps be said that they are approximations which\nonly require qualifications, though sometimes very important\nqualifications, to hold good of the society actually contemplated.\n\nThey were true enough to give the really conclusive answer to many\npopular fallacies. The type of sophistry which Ricardo specially\nassailed was that which results from neglecting the necessary\nimplications of certain changes. The arguments for the old 'mercantile\ntheory'--for 'protection' of industry, for the poor-law, for resisting\nthe introduction of machinery, the fear of 'gluts' and all manner of\ndoctrines about the currency--were really exposed by the economists\nupon the right grounds. It was absurd to suppose that by simply\nexpanding the currency, or by making industry less efficient, or\nforcing it to the least profitable employments, you were increasing\nthe national wealth; or to overlook the demoralising effects of a\nright to support because you resolved only to see the immediate\nbenefits of charity to individuals. It is true, no doubt, that in some\ncases there might be other arguments, and that the economists were apt\nto take a narrow view of the facts. Yet they decisively exploded many\nbad arguments, and by the right method of enforcing the necessity of\ntracing out the whole series of results. It was partly to their\nsuccess in confuting absurd doctrines that their confidence was due;\nthough the confidence was excessive when it was transferred to the\naxioms from which they professed to start. A doctrine may be true\nenough to expose an error, and yet not capable of yielding definite\nand precise conclusions. If I know that nothing can come out of\nnothing, I am on the way to a great scientific principle and able to\nconfute some palpable fallacies; but I am still a very long way from\nunderstanding the principle of the 'conservation of energy.' The truth\nthat scarcity meant dearness was apparently well known to Joseph in\nEgypt, and applied very skilfully for his purpose. Economists have\nframed a 'theory of value' which explains more precisely the way in\nwhich this is brought about. A clear statement may be valuable to\npsychologists; but for most purposes of political economy Joseph's\nknowledge is quite sufficient. It is the doctrine which is really used\nin practice whatever may be its ultimate justification.\n\nThe postulates, however, were taken by the economists to represent\nsomething more than approximate statements of the fact. They imply\ncertain propositions which might be regarded as axioms. Men desire\nwealth and prefer their own interests. The whole theory might then be\nregarded as a direct deduction from the axioms. It thus seemed to\nhave a kind of mathematical certainty. When facts failed to conform to\nthe theory the difficulty could be met by speaking, as Malthus spoke,\nof 'tendencies,' or by appealing to the analogy of 'friction' in\nmechanics. The excuse might be perfectly valid in some cases, but it\noften sanctioned a serious error. It was assumed that the formula was\nstill absolutely true of something, and that the check or friction was\na really separable and accidental interference. Thus it became easy to\ndiscard, as irrelevant, objections which really applied to the\nprinciple itself, and to exaggerate the conformity between fact and\ntheory. The economic categories are supposed to state the essential\nfacts, and the qualifications necessary to make them accurate were apt\nto slip out of sight. Ricardo,[338] to mention a familiar instance,\ncarefully points out that the 'economic rent,' which clearly\nrepresents an important economic category, is not to be confounded, as\nin 'popular' use, with the payments actually made, which often include\nmuch that is really profit. The distinction, however, was constantly\nforgotten, and the abstract formula summarily applied to the concrete\nfact.\n\nThe economists had constructed a kind of automaton which fairly\nrepresented the actual working of the machinery. But then, each\nelement of their construction came to represent a particular formula,\nand to represent nothing else. The landlord is simply the receiver of\nsurplus value; the capitalist the one man who saves, and who saves in\nproportion to profit; and the labourer simply the embodiment of\nMalthus's multiplying tendency. Then the postulates as to the ebb and\nflow of capital and labour are supposed to work automatically and\ninstantaneously. Ricardo argues that a tax upon wages will fall, not,\nas Buchanan thought, upon the labourer, nor, as Adam Smith thought,\nupon rent, but upon profits; and his reason is apparently that if\nwages were 'lowered the requisite population would not be kept\nup.'[339] The labourer is able to multiply or diminish so rapidly that\nhe always conforms at once to the required standard. This would seem\nto neglect the consideration that, after all, some time is required to\nalter the numbers of a population, and that other changes of a totally\ndifferent character may be meanwhile set up by rises and falls of\nwages. Ricardo, as his letters show,[340] was well aware of the\nnecessity of making allowance for such considerations in applying his\ntheorems. He simplified the exposition by laying them down too\nabsolutely; and the doctrine, taken without qualification, gives the\n'economic man,' who must be postulated to make the doctrine work\nsmoothly. The labourer is a kind of constant unit--absolutely fixed in\nhis efficiency, his wants, and so forth; and the same at one period as\nat another, except so far as he may become more prudent, and therefore\nfix his 'natural price' a little higher. An 'iron law' must follow\nwhen you have invented an iron unit. In short, when society is\nrepresented by this hypothetical mechanism, where each man is an\nembodiment of the required formula, the theory becomes imperfect so\nfar as society is made up of living beings, varying, though\ngradually, in their whole character and attributes, and forming part\nof an organised society incomparably too complex in its structure to\nbe adequately represented by the three distinct classes, each of which\nis merely a formula embodied in an individual man. The general rules\nmay be very nearly true in a great many cases, especially on the\nstock-exchange; but before applying them to give either a history or a\ntrue account of the actual working of concrete institutions, a much\ncloser approximation must be made to the actual data.\n\nI need not enlarge, however, upon a topic which has been so often\nexpounded. I think that at present the tendency is rather to do\ninjustice to the common-sense embodied in this system, to the\nsoundness of its aims, and to its value in many practical and\nimmediate questions, than to overestimate its claim to scientific\naccuracy. That claim may be said to have become obsolete.\n\nOne point, however, remains. The holders of such a doctrine must, it\nis said, have been without the bowels of compassion. Ricardo, as\ncritics observe with undeniable truth, was a Jew and a member of the\nstock-exchange. Now Jews, in spite of Shylock's assertions, and\ncertainly Jewish stockbrokers, are naturally without human feeling. If\nyou prick them, they only bleed banknotes. They are fitted to be\ncapitalists, who think of wages as an item in an account, and of the\nlabourer as part of the tools used in business. Ricardo, however, was\nnot a mere money-dealer, nor even a walking treatise. He was a kindly,\nliberal man, desirous to be, as he no doubt believed himself to be, in\nsympathy with the leaders of political and scientific thought, and\nfully sharing their aspirations. No doubt he, like his friends, was\nmore conspicuous for coolness of head than for impulsive\nphilanthropy. Like them, he was on his guard against 'sentimentalism'\nand 'vague generalities,' and thought that a hasty benevolence was apt\nto aggravate the evils which it attacked. The Utilitarians naturally\ntranslated all aspirations into logical dogmas; but some people who\ndespised them as hard-hearted really took much less pains to give\neffect to their own benevolent impulses. Now Ricardo, in this matter,\nwas at one with James Mill and Bentham, and especially Malthus.[341]\nThe essential doctrine of Malthus was that the poor could be made less\npoor by an improved standard of prudence. In writing to Malthus,\nRicardo incidentally remarks upon the possibility of raising the\ncondition of the poor by 'good education' and the inculcation of\nforesight in the great matter of marriage.[342] Incidental references\nin the _Principles_ are in the same strain. He accepts Malthus's view\nof the poor-laws, and hopes that, by encouraging foresight, we may by\ndegrees approach 'a sounder and more healthful state.'[343] He\nrepudiates emphatically a suggestion of Say that one of his arguments\nimplies 'indifference to the happiness' of the masses,[344] and holds\nthat 'the friends of humanity' should encourage the poor to raise\ntheir standard of comfort and enjoyment. The labourers, as he\nelsewhere incidentally observes, are 'by far the most important class\nin society.'[345] How should they not be if the greatest happiness of\nthe greatest number be the legitimate aim of all legislation?\n\nIt is true that in his argument Ricardo constantly assumes that his\n'natural price' will also be the real price of labour. The assumption\nthat the labourers' wages tend to a minimum is a base for his general\narguments. The inconsistency, if there be one, is easily intelligible.\nRicardo agreed with Malthus that, though the standard might be raised,\nand though a rise was the only way to improvement, the chances of such\na rise were not encouraging. Improved wages, as he says,[346] might\nenable the labourer to live more comfortably if only he would not\nmultiply. But 'so great are the delights of domestic society, that in\npractice it is invariably found that an increase of population follows\nan amended condition of the labourer,' and thus the advantage is lost\nas soon as gained.\n\nI have tried to show what was the logical convenience of the\nassumption. Ricardo, who has always to state an argument at the cost\nof an intellectual contortion, is content to lay down a rule without\nintroducing troublesome qualifications and reserves. Yet he probably\nheld that his postulate was a close approximation to the facts.\nLooking at the actual state of things at the worst time of the\npoor-law, and seeing how small were the prospects of stirring the\nlanguid mind of the pauper to greater forethought, he thought that he\nmight assume the constancy of an element which varied so slowly. The\nindifference of the Ricardo school generally to historical inquiry had\nled them no doubt to assume such constancy too easily. Malthus, who\nhad more leaning to history, had himself called attention to many\ncases in which the 'prudential check' operated more strongly than it\ndid among the English poor. Probably Ricardo was in this, as in other\ncases, too hasty in assuming facts convenient for his argument. The\npoor man's character can, it is clear, be only known empirically; and,\nin fact, Ricardo simply appeals to experience. He thinks that, as a\nfact, men always do multiply in excess. But he does not deny that\nbetter education might change their character in this respect. Indeed,\nas I have said, an even excessive faith in the possible modification\nof character by education was one of the Utilitarian tenets. If\nRicardo had said broadly that a necessary condition of the improvement\nof the poor was a change of the average character, I think that he\nwould have been saying what was perfectly true and very much to the\npurpose both then and now. The objection to his version of a most\nsalutary doctrine is that it is stated in too narrow terms. The\nultimate unit, the human being, is indeed supposed to be capable of\ngreat modification, but it is solely through increasing his foresight\nas to the effects of multiplication that the change is supposed to be\nattainable. The moral thus drawn implied a very limited view of the\ntrue nature and influence of great social processes, and in practice\ncame too often to limiting possible improvement to the one condition\nof letting things alone. Let a man starve if he will not work, and he\nwill work. That, as a sole remedy, may be insufficient; though, even\nin that shape, it is a doctrine more likely to be overlooked than\novervalued. And meanwhile the acquiescence in the painful doctrine\nthat, as a matter of fact, labourers would always multiply to\nstarvation point, was calculated to produce revolt against the whole\nsystem. Macaulay's doctrine that the Utilitarians had made political\neconomy unpopular was so far true that the average person resented the\nunpleasant doctrines thus obtruded upon him in their most unpleasant\nshape; and, if he was told that they were embodied logic, revolted\nagainst logic itself.\n\n\nV. THE RICARDIANS\n\nIt will be quite sufficient to speak briefly of the minor prophets who\nexpounded the classical doctrine; sometimes falling into fallacies,\nagainst which Ricardo's logical instinct had warned him; and sometimes\nperhaps unconsciously revealing errors which really lurked in his\npremises. When Ricardo died, James Mill told M'Culloch that they were\n'the two and only genuine disciples' of their common friend.[347] Mill\nwrote what he intended for a Schoolbook of Political Economy.[348]\nBrief, pithy, and vigorous, it purports to give the essential\nprinciples in their logical order; but, as his son remarks,[349] had\nonly a passing importance. M'Culloch took a more important place by\nhis writings in the _Edinburgh Review_ and elsewhere, and by his\nlectures at Edinburgh and at London. He was one of the first\nprofessors of the new university. His _Principles of Political\nEconomy_[350] became a text-book, to be finally superseded by John\nStuart Mill. Other works statistical and bibliographical showed great\nindustry, and have still their value. He was so much the typical\neconomist of the day that he has been identified with Carlyle's\n_M'Crowdy_, the apostle of the dismal science.[351] He writes,\nhowever, with enough vivacity and fervour of belief in his creed to\nredeem him from the charge of absolute dulness. An abler thinker was\nColonel (Robert) Torrens (1780-1864).[352] He had served with\ndistinction in the war; but retired on half-pay, and was drawn by some\nnatural idiosyncrasy into the dry paths of economic discussion. He was\nalready confuting the French economists in 1808; and was writing upon\nthe Bank-charter Act and the Ten Hours' Bill in 1844. Torrens held\nhimself, apparently with justice, to be rather an independent ally\nthan a disciple of Ricardo. His chief works were an essay upon the\n'External Corn-trade' (1815)[353] and an 'Essay on the Production of\nWealth' (1821). Ricardo pronounced his arguments upon the Corn-trade\nto be 'unanswered and unanswerable,'[354] and he himself claimed to be\nan independent discoverer of the true theory of rent.[355] He was\ncertainly a man of considerable acuteness and originality. In these\nwritings we find the most sanguine expressions of the belief that\npolitical economy was not only a potential, but on the verge of\nbecoming an actual, science. Torrens observes that all sciences have\nto pass through a period of controversy; but thinks that economists\nare emerging from this stage, and rapidly approaching unanimity. In\ntwenty years, says this hopeful prophet, there will scarcely exist a\n'doubt of its' (Political Economy's) 'fundamental principles.'[356]\nTorrens thinks that Ricardo has generalised too much, and Malthus too\nlittle; but proposes, with proper professions of modesty, to take the\ntrue _via media_, and weld the sound principles into a harmonious\nwhole by a due combination of observation and theory. The science, he\nthinks, is 'analogous to the mixed mathematics.'[357] As from the laws\nof motion we can deduce the theory of dynamics, so from certain simple\naxioms about human nature we can deduce the science of Political\nEconomy. M'Culloch, at starting, insists in edifying terms upon the\nnecessity of a careful and comprehensive induction, and of the study\nof industrial phenomena in different times and places, and under\nvarying institutions.[358] This, however, does not prevent him from\nadopting the same methods of reasoning. 'Induction' soon does its\noffice, and supplies a few simple principles, from which we may make a\nleap to our conclusions by a rapid, deductive process.\n\nThe problems appear to be too simple to require long preliminary\ninvestigations of fact. Torrens speaks of proving by 'strictly\ndemonstrative evidence' or of 'proceeding to demonstrate' by strict\nanalysis.[359] This is generally the preface to one of those\ncharacteristic arithmetical illustrations to which Ricardo's practice\ngave a sanction. We are always starting an imaginary capitalist with\nso many quarters of corn and suits of clothes, which he can transmute\ninto any kind of product, and taking for granted that he represents a\ntypical case. This gives a certain mathematical air to the reasoning,\nand too often hides from the reasoner that he may be begging the\nquestion in more ways than one by the arrangement of his imaginary\ncase. One of the offenders in this kind was Nassau Senior (1790-1864),\na man of remarkable good sense, and fully aware of the necessity of\ncaution in applying his theories to facts. He was the first professor\nof Political Economy at Oxford (1825-1830), and his treatise[360] lays\ndown the general assumption of his orthodox contemporaries clearly and\nbriefly. The science, he tells us, is deducible from four elementary\npropositions: the first of which asserts that every 'man desires to\nobtain additional wealth with as little sacrifice as possible'; while\nthe others state the first principles embodied in Malthus's theory of\npopulation, and in the laws corresponding to the increasing facility\nof manufacturing and the decreasing facility of agricultural\nindustry.[361] As these propositions include no reference to the\nparticular institutions or historical development of the social\nstructure, they virtually imply that a science might be constructed\nequally applicable in all times and places; and that, having obtained\nthem, we need not trouble ourselves any further with inductions. Hence\nit follows that we can at once get from the abstract 'man' to the\nindustrial order. We may, it would seem, abstract from history in\ngeneral. This corresponds to the postulate explicitly stated by\nM'Culloch. 'A state,' he tells us, 'is nothing more than an aggregate\nof individuals': men, that is, who 'inhabit a certain tract of\ncountry.'[362] He infers that 'whatever is most advantageous to them'\n(the individuals) 'is most advantageous to the state.' Self-interest,\ntherefore, the individual's desire of adding to his 'fortune,' is the\nmainspring or _causa causans_ of all improvement.[363] This is, of\ncourse, part of the familiar system, which applies equally in ethics\nand politics. M'Culloch is simply generalising Adam Smith's congenial\ndoctrine that statesmen are guilty of absurd presumption when they try\nto interfere with a man's management of his own property.[364] This\ntheory, again, is expressed by the familiar maxim _pas trop\ngouverner_, which is common to the whole school, and often accepted\nexplicitly.[365]\n\nIt will be quite enough to notice one or two characteristic results.\nThe most important concern the relation between the labourer and the\ncapitalist. Malthus gives the starting-point. Torrens, for example,\nsays that the 'real wages of labour have a constant tendency to settle\ndown' to the amount rendered necessary by 'custom and climate' in\norder to keep up his numbers.[366] Mill observes in his terse way that\nthe capitalist in the present state of society 'is as much the owner\nof the labour' as the manufacturer who operates with slaves. The only\n'difference is in the mode of purchasing.'[367] One buys a man's whole\nlabour; the other his labour for a day. The rate of wages can\ntherefore be raised, like the price of slaves, only by limiting the\nsupply. Hence the 'grand practical problem is to find the means of\nlimiting the number of births.'[368] M'Culloch is equally clear, and\ninfers that every scheme 'not bottomed on' the principle of\nproportioning labour to capital must be 'completely nugatory and\nineffectual.'[369]\n\nThe doctrine common to the whole school led M'Culloch to conclusions\nwhich became afterwards notorious enough to require a word of notice.\nTorrens, like Ricardo, speaks of capital as 'accumulated labour,' but\nmakes a great point of observing that, although this is true, the case\nis radically changed in a developed state of society. The value of\nthings no longer depends upon the labour, but upon the amount of\ncapital employed in their production.[370] This, indeed, may seem to\nbe the most natural way of stating the accepted principle. M'Culloch\nreplies that the change makes no difference in the principle,[371]\ninasmuch as capital being 'accumulated labour,' value is still\nproportioned to labour, though in a transubstantiated shape. M'Culloch\nsupposed that by carrying out this principle systematically he was\nsimplifying Ricardo and bringing the whole science into unity. All\nquestions, whether of value in exchange, or of the rate of wages, can\nthen be reduced to comparing the simple unit called labour. Both Mill\nand M'Culloch regard capital as a kind of labour, so that things may\nbe produced by capital alone, 'without the co-operation of any\nimmediate labour'[372]--a result which can hardly be realised with the\ndiscovery of a perpetual motion. So, again, the value of a joint\nproduct is the 'sum' of these two values.[373] All value, therefore,\ncan be regarded as proportioned to labour in one of its two states.\nM'Culloch advanced to an unfortunate conclusion, which excited some\nridicule. Though Ricardo and Torrens[374] rejected it, it was accepted\nby Mill in his second edition.[375] Wine kept in a cask might increase\nin value. Could that value be ascribed to 'additional labour actually\nlaid out'? M'Culloch gallantly asserted that it could, though 'labour'\ncertainly has to be interpreted in a non-natural sense.[376] Not only\nis capital labour, but fermentation is labour, or how can we say that\nall value is proportioned to labour? This is only worth notice as a\npathetic illustration of the misfortunes of a theorist ridden by a\ndogma of his own creation. Another conclusion is more important. The\n'real value' of anything is measured by the labour required to produce\nit. Nothing 'again is more obvious' than that equal labour implies the\n'same sacrifice' in all states of society.[377] It might seem to\nfollow that the value of anything was measured by the labour which it\nwould command. This doctrine, however, though maintained by Malthus,\nwas, according to M'Culloch, a pestilent heresy, first exploded by\nRicardo's sagacity.[378] Things exchange, as he explains, in\nproportion to the labour which produces them, but the share given to\nthe labourer may vary widely. The labourer, he says, 'gives a\nconstant, but receives a variable quantity in its stead.' He makes the\nsame sacrifice when he works for a day, but may get for it what he\nproduces in ten hours, or only in one. In every case, however, he gets\nless than he produces, for the excess 'constitutes profits.'[379] The\ncapitalist must get his interest, that is, the wages of the\naccumulated labour. Here we come again to the Socialist position, only\nthat the Socialist infers that the labourer is always cheated by the\ncapitalist, and does not consider that the machine can ask for 'wages'\non the pretext that it is accumulated labour. What, however,\ndetermines the share actually received? After all, as a machine is not\nactually a labourer, and its work not a separable product, we cannot\neasily see how much wages it is entitled to receive. M'Culloch follows\nthe accepted argument. 'No proposition,' he says, 'can be better\nestablished than that the market rate of wages ... is exclusively\ndetermined by the proportion between capital and population.'[380] We\nhave ultimately here, as elsewhere, 'the grand principle to which we\nmust always come at last,' namely, 'the cost of production.'[381]\nWages must correspond to the cost of raising the labourer. This leads\nto a formula, which afterwards became famous. In a pamphlet[382]\ndevoted to the question, he repeats the statement that wages depend\nupon the proportion between population and capital; and then, as if\nthe phrase were identical, substitutes that portion of capital which\nis required for the labourer's consumption. This is generally cited as\nthe first statement of the 'wage-fund' theory, to which I shall have\nto return.\n\nI need not pursue these illustrations of the awkward results of\nexcessive zeal in a disciple. It is worth noticing, however, that\nM'Culloch's practical conclusions are not so rigid as might be\ninferred. His abstract doctrines do not give his true theory, so much\nas what he erroneously took to be his theory. The rules with which he\nworks are approximately true under certain conditions, and he\nunconsciously assumes the conditions to be negligible, and the rules\ntherefore absolute. It must be added that he does not apply his\nconclusions so rigidly as might be expected. By the help of\n'friction,' or the admission that the ride is only true in nineteen\ncases out of twenty, he can make allowance for many deviations from\nrigid orthodoxy. He holds, for example, that government interference\nis often necessary. He wishes in particular for the establishment of a\n'good system of public education.'[383] He seems to have become more\nsentimental in later years. In the edition of 1843 he approves the\nFactory Acts, remarking that the last then passed 'may not, in some\nrespects, have gone far enough.'[384] He approves a provision for the\n'impotent poor,' on the principle of the Elizabethan act, though he\ndisapproves the centralising tendency of the new poor-law. Though he\nis a good Malthusian,[385] and holds the instinct of population to be\na 'constant quantity,'[386] he does not believe in the impossibility\nof improvement. The 'necessary' rate of wages fixes only a minimum:\nan increase of population has been accompanied by an increase of\ncomfort.[387] Wages rise if the standard of life be raised, and a rise\nof wages tends to raise the standard. He cordially denounces the\nbenevolent persons who held that better wages only meant more\ndissipation. Better wages are really the great spur to industry and\nimprovement.[388] Extreme poverty causes apathy; and the worst of\nevils is the sluggishness which induces men to submit to reductions of\nwages. A sense of comfort will raise foresight; and the _vis\nmedicatrix_ should be allowed to act upon every rank of society. He is\nno doubt an individualist, as looking to the removal of restrictions,\nsuch as the Conspiracy Laws,[389] rather than to a positive action of\nthe government; but it is worth notice that this typical economist is\nfar from accepting some of the doctrines attributed to the school in\ngeneral.\n\nThe classical school blundered when it supposed that the rules which\nit formulated could be made absolute. To give them that character, it\nwas necessary to make false assumptions as to the ultimate\nconstitution of society; and the fallacy became clear when the formulae\nwere supposed to give a real history or to give first principles, from\nwhich all industrial relations could be deduced. Meanwhile, the\nformulae, as they really expressed conditional truths, might be very\nuseful so long as, in point of fact, the conditions existed, and were\nvery effective in disposing of many fallacies. The best illustration\nwould probably be given by the writings of Thomas Tooke\n(1774-1858),[390] one of the founders of the Political Economy Club.\nThe _History of Prices_ is an admirable explanation of phenomena which\nhad given rise to the wildest theories. The many oscillations of trade\nand finance during the great struggle, the distress which had followed\nthe peace, had bewildered hasty reasoners. Some people, of course,\nfound consolation in attributing everything to the mysterious action\nof the currency; others declared that the war-expenditure had supplied\nmanufacturers and agriculturists with a demand for their wares,\napparently not the less advantageous because the payment came out of\ntheir own pockets.[391] Tooke very patiently and thoroughly explodes\nthese explanations, and traces the fluctuations of price to such\ncauses as the effect of the seasons and the varying events of the war\nwhich opened or closed the channels of commerce. The explanation in\ngeneral seems to be thoroughly sound and conclusive, and falls in, as\nfar as it goes, with the principles of his allies. He shows, for\nexample, very clearly what were the conditions under which the\northodox theory of rent was really applicable; how bad seasons brought\ngain instead of loss to the 'agricultural interest,' that is, as Tooke\nexplains, to the landlord and farmer; how by a rise of price out of\nproportion to the diminution of supply, the farmer made large profits;\nhow rents rose, enclosure bills increased, and inferior land was\nbrought under the plough. The landlord's interest was for the time\nclearly opposed to that of all other classes, however inadequate the\ndoctrine might become when made absolute by a hasty generalisation. I\nneed not dwell upon the free-trade argument which made the popular\nreputation of the economists. It is enough to note briefly that the\nerror as to the sphere of applicability of the doctrine did not\nprevent many of the practical conclusions from being of the highest\nvalue.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[294] A life of Ricardo by M'Culloch is prefixed to his _Works_. I\ncite the edition of 1880. Ricardo's letters to Malthus were published\nby Mr. Bonar in 1887; his letters to M'Culloch, edited by Mr.\nHollander for the American Economic Association, in 1895; and his\nletters to H. Trower, edited by Mr. Bonar and Mr. Hollander, have just\nappeared (1900).\n\n[295] He remarks upon this difficulty in the case of Smith's\ntreatment of rent, and gives a definition to which he scarcely\nadheres.--_Works_, p. 34 ('Principles,' ch. ii., 1888).\n\n[296] _Works_, p. 378. Ricardo, it should be said, complained when\nMalthus interpreted him to mean that this opposition of interests was\npermanent and absolute.\n\n[297] Malthus admits the general principle of free trade, but supports\nsome degree of protection to corn, mainly upon political grounds. He\nholds, however, with Adam Smith, that 'no equal quantity of productive\nlabour employed in manufactures could ever occasion so great a\nreproduction as in agriculture' (_Grounds of an Opinion, etc._, p.\n35)--a relic of the 'physiocrat' doctrine.\n\n[298] _Works_, p. 385.\n\n[299] _Ibid._ p. 386.\n\n[300] See also _Letters to Malthus_, p. 175.\n\n[301] 'Your modern political economists say that it is a principle in\ntheir science that all things find their level; which I deny, and say,\non the contrary, that it is the true principle that all things are\nfinding their level, like water in a storm.'--Coleridge's\n_Table-Talk_, 17th May 1833.\n\n[302] _Letters to Malthus_, p. 96; and see the frequently quoted\npassage where he complains that Malthus has taken his book as more\n'practical' than he had intended it to be, and speaks of his method of\nimagining 'strong cases.'--_Ibid._ p. 167.\n\n[303] _Works_, p. 40 _n._ (ch. ii.).\n\n[304] _Works_, p. 53 (ch. v.), and p. 124 (ch. xvi.), where he quotes\nfrom the _Wealth of Nations_ (M'Culloch), p. 390 (bk. v. ch. ii. art.\n3).\n\n[305] _Works_, p. 131.\n\n[306] _Wealth of Nations_ (M'Culloch), p. 31 (bk. i. ch. viii.).\n\n[307] _Works_, p. 41 (ch. ii.).\n\n[308] _Wealth of Nations_ (M'Culloch), p. 36.\n\n[309] _Works_, p. 51 (ch. v.).\n\n[310] _Letters to Malthus_, p. 98.\n\n[311] _Works_, p. 239 (ch. xxxi., added in third edition, 1821).\n\n[312] _Ibid._ p. 50 (ch. v.).\n\n[313] _Ibid._ p. 52.\n\n[314] _Ibid._ p. 15 (ch. i. sec. ii.).\n\n[315] There is, indeed, a difficulty which I happily need not discuss.\nUndoubtedly the doctrine of gluts was absurd. There is, of course, no\nlimit to the amount of wealth which can be used or exchanged. But\nthere certainly seems to be a great difficulty in effecting such a\nreadjustment of the industrial system as is implied in increased\nproduction of wealth; and the disposition to save may at a given time\nbe greater than the power of finding profitable channels for employing\nwealth. This involves economical questions beyond my ability to\nanswer, and happily not here relevant.\n\n[316] _Letters to Malthus_, p. 101.\n\n[317] _Ibid._ p. 52.\n\n[318] _Works_, p. 174 (ch. xxi.).\n\n[319] _Works_, p. 66 (ch. vi.).\n\n[320] _Works_, p. 240 (ch. xxxi.).\n\n[321] Ricardo, _Works_, p. xxiv.\n\n[322] Menger's _Das Recht auf den vollen Arbeitsertrag_ (1891), p. 38.\n\n[323] _Works_, p. 228 (ch. xxviii.).\n\n[324] _Works_, pp. 29, 60.\n\n[325] _Ibid._ p. 166.\n\n[326] _Works_, p. 170 (ch. xx.).\n\n[327] _Ibid._ p. 7.\n\n[328] So he tells Malthus (_Letters_, pp. 173, 174) that the buyer has\n'the least to do in the world' with the regulation of prices. It is\nall the competition of the sellers. 'Demand' influences price for the\nmoment, but 'supply follows close upon its heels, and takes up the\nregulation of price.'\n\n[329] _Works_, p. 234.\n\n[330] Bentham's _Works_, x. 498.\n\n[331] _Works_, p. 250 (ch. xxxii.).\n\n[332] Stewart's _Works_, x. 34.\n\n[333] See Bagehot's remarks upon J. S. Mill's version of this doctrine\nin _Economic Studies_: chapter on 'Cost of Production.'\n\n[334] Another illustration of the need of such considerations is\ngiven, as has been pointed out, in Adam Smith's famous chapter upon\nthe variation in the rate of wages. He assumes that the highest wages\nwill be paid for the least agreeable employments, whereas, in fact,\nthe least agreeable are generally the worst paid. His doctrine, that\nis, is only true upon a tacit assumption as to the character and\nposition of the labourer, which must be revised before the rule can be\napplied.\n\n[335] J. S. Mill, too, in his _Political Economy_ makes the foundation\nof private property 'the right of producers to what they themselves\nhave produced.' (Bk. ii. ch. ii. Sec. 1.)\n\n[336] Mr. Edwin Cannan, in _Production and Distribution_ (1894), p.\n383.\n\n[337] A definition, says Burke in his essay on the 'Sublime and\nBeautiful' (introduction) 'seems rather to follow than to precede our\ninquiry, of which it ought to be considered as the result.'\n\n[338] _Works_, p. 34 (chap. ii.). Rent is there defined as the sum\npaid for the original and indestructible powers of the soil.\n\n[339] _Works_, p. 132 (chap. xvii.). He admits (_Ibid._ p. 210 _n._)\nthat the labourer may have a little more than what is absolutely\nnecessary, and that his inference is therefore 'expressed too\nstrongly.'\n\n[340] See _Letters to M'Culloch_, p. xxi.\n\n[341] 'The assaults upon Malthus's \"great work,\"' he says (_Works_, p.\n243, ch. xxxii.), 'have only served to prove its strength.'\n\n[342] _Letters to Malthus_, p. 226.\n\n[343] _Works_, p. 58 (ch. v.).\n\n[344] _Ibid._ p. 211 _n._ (ch. xxvi.).\n\n[345] _Ibid._ p. 258 (ch. xxxii.).\n\n[346] _Works_, p. 248 (ch. xxii.).\n\n[347] Bain's _James Mill_, p. 211.\n\n[348] Editions in 1821, 1824, and 1826.\n\n[349] _Autobiography_, p. 204.\n\n[350] The first edition, an expanded version of an article in the\n_Encyclopaedia Britannica_, appeared in 1825.\n\n[351] _Latter-day Pamphlets_ (New Downing Street). M'Crowdy is\nobviously a type, not an individual.\n\n[352] See Mr. Hewin's life of him in _Dictionary of National\nBiography_.\n\n[353] Fourth edition in 1827.\n\n[354] Ricardo's _Works_, p. 164 _n._\n\n[355] _External Corn-trade_, preface to fourth edition. J. S. Mill\nobserves in his chapter upon 'International Trade' that Torrens was\nthe earliest expounder of the doctrine afterwards worked out by\nRicardo and Mill himself. For Ricardo's opinion of Torrens, see\n_Letters to Trower_, p. 39.\n\n[356] _Production of Wealth_ (Preface).\n\n[357] _Production of Wealth_ (Preface).\n\n[358] _Political Economy_ (1825), p. 21.\n\n[359] _External Corn-trade_, pp. xviii, 109, 139; _Production of\nWealth_, p. 375.\n\n[360] Originally in the _Encyclopaedia Metropolitana_, 1836.\n\n[361] Senior's _Political Economy_ (1850), p. 26.\n\n[362] _Ibid._ (1825), pp. 55, 129-131.\n\n[363] Senior's _Political Economy_ (150), p. 125.\n\n[364] _Ibid._ p. 135. M'Culloch admits the possibility that a man may\njudge his own interests wrongly, but thinks that this will not happen\nin one case out of twenty (_Ibid._ p. 15).\n\n[365] See Torrens's _Production of Wealth_, p. 208; and M'Culloch's\n_Political Economy_ (1843), p. 294, where he admits some exceptions.\n\n[366] _External Corn-trade_, p. 87, etc.\n\n[367] _Political Economy_ (second edition), pp. 21, 22.\n\n[368] _Ibid._ p. 67.\n\n[369] _Political Economy_ (1825), p. 329.\n\n[370] _Production of Wealth_, p. 34, etc.\n\n[371] _Political Economy_ (1825), p. 318.\n\n[372] Mill's _Political Economy_ (second edition), p. 102; M'Culloch's\n_Political Economy_ (1825), pp. 289-291.\n\n[373] M'Culloch's _Political Economy_, p. 290.\n\n[374] Preface to _External Corn-trade_.\n\n[375] _Ibid._ p. 95.\n\n[376] _Political Economy_ (1825), pp. 313-18. This argument disappears\nin later editions.\n\n[377] _Ibid._ p. 217.\n\n[378] _Political Economy_, p. 221. De Quincey makes a great point of\nthis doctrine, of which it is not worth while to examine the meaning.\n\n[379] _Political Economy_, p. 221 _n._\n\n[380] _Ibid._ p. 336.\n\n[381] _Ibid._ p. 337.\n\n[382] 'Essay upon the Circumstances which determine the Rate of Wages'\n(1826), p. 113. This was written for Constable's _Miscellany_, and is\nmainly repetition from the _Political Economy_. It was republished,\nwith alterations, in 1851.\n\n[383] _Political Economy_, pp. 359-61.\n\n[384] _Ibid._ (1843), p. 178. And see his remarks on the unfavourable\nside of the Factory System, p. 186 _seq._\n\n[385] 'Wherever two persons have the means of subsisting,' as he\nquaintly observes, 'a marriage invariably takes place' (_Political\nEconomy_, p. 154).\n\n[386] _Political Economy_, p. 206.\n\n[387] _Political Economy_, p. 344.\n\n[388] _Ibid._ pp. 349-52.\n\n[389] See pamphlet on the rate of wages, pp. 178-204.\n\n[390] Tooke's _Thoughts and Details on the High and Low Prices of the\nlast Thirty Years_ appeared in 1823 (second edition 1824). This was\nrewritten and embodied in the _History of Prices_, the first two\nvolumes of which appeared in 1838. Four later volumes appeared in\n1839, 1848, and 1857.\n\n[391] The popular view is given by Southey. The Radicals, he says in\n1823, desire war because they expect it to lead to revolution. 'In\nthis they are greatly deceived, for it would restore agricultural\nprosperity, and give a new spur to our manufactures' (_Selections from\nSouthey's Letters_, iii. 382. See also _Life and Correspondence_, iv.\n228, 386).\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nECONOMIC HERETICS\n\n\nI. THE MALTHUSIAN CONTROVERSY\n\nThe Economic theory became triumphant. Expounded from new university\nchairs, summarised in text-books for schools, advocated in the press,\nand applied by an energetic party to some of the most important\npolitical discussions of the day, it claimed the adhesion of all\nenlightened persons. It enjoyed the prestige of a scientific doctrine,\nand the most popular retort seemed to be an involuntary concession of\nits claims. When opponents appealed from 'theorists' to practical men,\nthe Utilitarians scornfully set them down as virtually appealing from\nreason to prejudice. No rival theory held the field. If Malthus and\nRicardo differed, it was a difference between men who accepted the\nsame first principles. They both professed to interpret Adam Smith as\nthe true prophet, and represented different shades of opinion rather\nthan diverging sects. There were, however, symptoms of opposition,\nwhich, at the time, might be set down as simple reluctance to listen\nto disagreeable truths. In reality, they were indications of a\ndissatisfaction which was to become of more importance and to lead in\ntime to a more decided revolt. I must indicate some of them, though\nthe expressions of dissent were so various and confused that it is not\nvery easy to reduce them to order.\n\nMalthus's doctrine was really at the base of the whole theory, though\nit must be admitted that neither Malthus himself nor his opponents\nwere clear as to what his doctrine really was. His assailants often\nattacked theories which he disavowed, or asserted principles which he\nclaimed as his own.[392] I mention only to set aside some respectable\nand wearisome gentlemen such as Ingram, Jarrold, Weyland, and Grahame,\nwho considered Malthus chiefly as impugning the wisdom of Providence.\nThey quote the divine law, 'Increase and multiply'; think that Malthus\nregards vice and misery as blessings, and prove that population does\nnot 'tend' to increase too rapidly. Jarrold apparently accepts the\ndoctrine which Malthus attributes to Suessmilch, that lives have been\nshortened since the days of the patriarchs, and the reproductive\nforces diminished as the world has grown fuller. Grahame believes in a\nprovidential 'ordeal,' constituted by infant mortality, which is not,\nlike war and vice, due to human corruption, but a beneficent\nregulating force which correlates fertility with the state of society.\nThis might be taken by Malthus as merely amounting to another version\nof his checks. Such books, in fact, simply show, what does not require\nto be further emphasised, that Malthus had put his version of the\nstruggle for existence into a form which seemed scandalous to the\naverage orthodox person. The vagueness of Malthus himself and the\nconfused argument of such opponents makes it doubtful whether they are\nreally answering his theories or reducing them to a less repulsive\nform of statement.\n\nIn other directions, the Malthusian doctrine roused keen feeling on\nboth sides, and the line taken by different parties is significant.\nMalthus had appeared as an antagonist of the revolutionary party. He\nhad laid down what he took to be an insuperable obstacle to the\nrealisation of their dreams. Yet his views were adopted and extended\nby those who called themselves thorough Radicals. As, in our days,\nDarwinism has been claimed as supporting both individualist and\nsocialistic conclusions, the theory of his predecessor, Malthus, might\nbe applied in a Radical or a Conservative sense. In point of fact,\nMalthus was at once adopted by the Whigs, as represented by the\n_Edinburgh Review_. They were followers of Adam Smith and Dugald\nStewart; they piqued themselves, and, as even James Mill admitted,\nwith justice, upon economic orthodoxy. They were at the same time\npredisposed to a theory which condemned the revolutionary Utopias. It\nprovided them with an effective weapon against the agitators whom they\nespecially dreaded. The Tories might be a little restrained by\northodox qualms. In 1812 Southey was permitted to make an onslaught\nupon Malthus in the _Quarterly_;[393] but more complimentary\nallusions followed, and five years later the essay was elaborately\ndefended in an able article.[394] An apology was even insinuated for\nthe previous assault, though the blame was thrown upon Malthus for\nputting his doctrines in an offensive shape. A reference to Owen\nsuggests that the alarm excited by Socialism had suggested the need of\nsome sound political economy.\n\nAnother controversy which was being carried on at intervals indicates\nthe line of cleavage between the capitalist and the landed interest.\nJames Mill's early pamphlet, _Commerce Defended_ (1808), and Torrens's\npamphlet, _Economists Refuted_, were suggested by this discussion.\nAlthough the war was partly in defence of British trade, its\nvicissitudes produced various commercial crises; and the patriotic\nTories were anxious to show that we could thrive even if our trade was\nshut out from the Continent. The trading classes maintained that they\nreally supplied the sinews of war, and had a right to some control of\nthe policy. The controversy about the orders in council and Berlin\ndecrees emphasised these disputes, and called some attention to the\nquestions involved in the old controversy between the 'mercantile' and\nthe 'agricultural' systems. A grotesque exaggeration of one theory was\ngiven by Mill's opponent, William Spence[395] (1783-1860), in his\n_Britain independent of Commerce_, which went through several editions\nin 1808, and refurbished or perverted the doctrine of the French\neconomists. The argument, at least, shows what fallacies then needed\nconfutation by the orthodox. In the preface to his collected tracts,\nSpence observes that the high price of corn was the cause of 'all our\nwealth and prosperity during the war.' The causes of the high price\n('assisted,' he admits, 'by occasional bad seasons') were the\n'national debt, in other words, taxation,' which raised the price,\nfirst, of necessaries, and then of luxuries (thus, he says,\n'neutralising its otherwise injurious effects'), and the virtual\nmonopoly by the agriculturist of the home market.[396] All our wealth,\nthat is, was produced by taxation aided by famine, or, in brief, by\nthe landowner's power of squeezing more out of the poor. Foreign\ntrade, according to Spence, is altogether superfluous. Its effect is\nsummed up by the statement that we give hardware to America, and, in\nreturn, get only 'the vile weed, tobacco.'[397] Spence's writings only\nshow the effect of strong prejudices on a weak brain. A similar\nsentiment dictated a more noteworthy argument to a much abler writer,\nwhose relation to Malthus is significant--Thomas Chalmers\n(1780-1847),[398] probably best remembered at present for his\nleadership of the great disruption of 1843. He had a reputation for\neloquence and philosophic ability not fully intelligible at the\npresent day. His appearance was uncouth, and his written style is\noften clumsy. He gave an impression at times of indolence and of\ntimidity. Yet his superficial qualities concealed an ardent\ntemperament and cordial affections. Under a sufficient stimulus he\ncould blaze out in stirring speech and vigorous action. His\nintellectual training was limited. He had, we are told, been much\ninfluenced in his youth by the French philosophers of the time, and\nhad appeared on the side of the more freethinking party in the famous\nLeslie controversy. Soon afterwards, however, he was converted to\n'evangelical' views. He still accepted Thomas Brown as a great\nmetaphysician,[399] but thought that in moral questions Brown's\ndeistical optimism required to be corrected by an infusion of Butler's\ntheory of conscience. He could adapt Butler's _Analogy_, and write an\nedifying Bridgewater Treatise. I need only say, however, that, though\nhis philosophy was not very profound, he had an enthusiasm which\nenables him at times to write forcibly and impressively.\n\nChalmers was from 1803 to 1815 minister of Kilmany, Fifeshire, and his\nattention had already been drawn to the question of pauperism. He took\npart in the Spence controversy, by an essay upon the _Extent and\nStability of National Resources_.[400] In this he expounds a doctrine\nwhich is afterwards given in his _Political Economy in Connection with\nthe Moral State and Moral Aspects of Society_.[401] The main purpose\nof his early book is the patriotic. It is meant, like Spence's\npamphlet, to prove that Napoleon could do us no vital injury. Should\nhe succeed, he would only lop off superfluous branches, not hew down\nthe main trunk. Chalmers's argument to show the ease with which a\ncountry may recover the effects of a disastrous war is highly praised\nby J. S. Mill[402] as the first sound explanation of the facts.\nChalmers's position, however, is radically different from the\nposition of either James or J. S. Mill. Essentially it is the\ndevelopment of the French economists' theory, though Chalmers is\nrather unwilling to admit his affinity to a discredited school.[403]\nHe has reached some of their conclusions, he admits, but by a\ndifferent path.[404] He coincides, in this respect, with Malthus, who\nwas equally impressed by the importance of 'subsistence,' or of the\nfood-supply of the labourer. The great bulk of the food required must\nbe raised within our own borders. As Chalmers says, in 1832, the total\nimportation of corn, even in the two famine years, 1800 and 1801,\ntaken together, had only provided food for five weeks,[405] and could\nnormally represent a mere fringe or superfluous addition to our\nresources. His main argument is simple. The economists have fallen\ninto a fatal error. A manufacturer, he observes, only makes his own\narticle.[406] The economists somehow imagine that he also supports\nhimself. You see a prosperous 'shawl-making village.' You infer that\nits ruin would cause the destitution of so many families. It would\nonly mean the loss of so many shawls. The food which supports the\nshawl-makers would still be produced, and would be only diverted to\nsupport makers of some other luxury.[407] There would be a temporary\ninjury to individuals, but no permanent weakening of national\nresources. Hence we have his division of the population. The\nagriculturists, and those who make the 'second necessaries' (the\ncottages, ploughs, and so forth, required by the agriculturist),\ncreate the great wealth of the country. Besides these we have the\n'disposable' population, which is employed in making luxuries for the\nlandowners, and, finally, the 'redundant' or what he calls in his\nlater book the 'excrescent' or 'superinduced' population,[408] which\nis really supported by foreign trade. Commerce, then, is merely 'the\nefflorescence of our agriculture.'[409] Were it annihilated this\ninstant, we should still retain our whole disposable population. The\neffect of war is simply to find a different employment for this part\nof the nation. Napoleon, he says, is 'emptying our shops and filling\nour battalions.'[410] All the 'redundant' population might be\nsupported by simply diminishing the number of our cart-horses.[411]\nSimilarly, the destruction of the commerce of France 'created her\narmies.' It only transferred men from trade to war, and 'millions of\nartisans' were 'transformed into soldiers.'[412] Pitt was really\nstrengthening when he supposed himself to be ruining his enemy.\n'Excrescence' and 'efflorescence' are Chalmers's equivalent for the\n'sterility' of the French economists. The backbone of all industry is\nagriculture, and the manufacturers simply employed by the landowner\nfor such purposes as he pleases. Whether he uses them to make his\nluxuries or to fight his battles, the real resources of the nation\nremain untouched. The Ricardians insist upon the vital importance of\n'capital.' The one economic end of the statesmen, as the capitalist\nclass naturally thinks, should be to give every facility for its\naccumulation, and consequently for allowing it to distribute itself in\nthe most efficient way. Chalmers, on the contrary, argues that we may\neasily have too much capital. He was a firm believer in gluts. He\nadmits that the extension of commerce was of great good at the end of\nthe feudal period, but not as the 'efficient cause' of wealth, only as\n'unlocking the capabilities of the soil.'[413] This change produced\nthe illusion that commerce has a 'creative virtue,' whereas its\nabsolute dependence upon agriculture is a truth of capital importance\nin political economy. More Malthusian than Malthus, Chalmers argues\nthat the case of capital is strictly parallel to the case of\npopulation.[414] Money may be redundant as much as men, and the real\ncauses of every economic calamity are the 'over-speculation of\ncapitalists,' and the 'over-population of the community at\nlarge.'[415] In this question, however, Chalmers gets into\ndifficulties, which show so hopeless a confusion between 'capital,'\nincome, and money, that I need not attempt to unravel his\nmeaning.[416] Anyhow, he is led to approve the French doctrine of the\nsingle tax. Ultimately, he thinks, all taxes fall upon rent.[417]\nAgriculture fills the great reservoir from which all the subsidiary\nchannels are filled. Whether the stream be tapped at the source or\nfurther down makes no difference. Hence he infers that, as the\nlandlords necessarily pay the taxes, they should pay them openly. By\nan odd coincidence, he would tax rents like Mill, though upon\nopposite grounds. He holds that the interest of the landowners is not\nopposed to, but identical with, the interest of all classes.\nPolitically, as well as economically, they should be supreme. They\nare, 'naturally and properly, the lords of the ascendant,' and, as he\noddly complains in the year of the Reform Bill, not 'sufficiently\nrepresented in parliament.'[418] A 'splendid aristocracy' is, he\nthinks, a necessary part of the social edifice;[419] the law of\nprimogeniture is necessary to support them; and the division of land\nwill cause the decay of France. The aristocracy are wanted to keep up\na high standard of civilisation and promote philosophy, science, and\nart.[420] The British aristocracy in the reign of George IV. scarcely\nrealised this ideal, and would hardly have perceived that to place all\nthe taxes upon their shoulders would be to give them a blessing in\ndisguise. According to Chalmers, however, an established church\nrepresents an essential part of the upper classes, and is required to\npromote a high standard of life among the poor.[421] In connection\nwith this, he writes a really forcible chapter criticising the\neconomical distinction of productive and unproductive labour, and\nshows at least that the direct creation of material wealth is not a\nsufficient criterion of the utility of a class.\n\nChalmers's arguments are of interest mainly from their bearing upon\nhis practical application of the Malthusian problem. His interest in\nthe problem of pauperism had been stimulated by his residence in\nGlasgow, where from 1815 to 1823 he had been actively engaged in\nparochial duties. In 1819 he had set up an organised system of\ncharity in a poor district, which both reduced the expenditure and\nimproved the condition of the poor. The experiment, though dropped\nsome years later, became famous, and in later years Chalmers\nsuccessfully started a similar plan in Edinburgh. It was this\nexperience which gave shape to his Malthusian theories. He was, that\nis, a Malthusian in the sense of believing that the great problem was\nessentially the problem of raising the self-respect and spirit of\nindependence of the poor. The great evil which confronted him in\nGlasgow was the mischief connected with the growth of the factory\nsystem. He saw, as he thought, the development of wealth leading to\nthe degradation of the labourer. The great social phenomenon was the\ntendency to degeneration, the gradual dissolution of an organism, and\ncorruption destroying the vital forces. On the one hand, this\nspectacle led him, as it led others, to look back fondly to the good\nold times of homely food and primitive habits, to the peasantry as\nrepresented in Burns's _Cotter's Saturday Night_ or Scott's _Heart of\nMidlothian_, when the poor man was part of a social, political, and\necclesiastical order, disciplined, trained, and self-respecting, not a\nloose waif and stray in a chaotic welter of separate atoms. These were\nthe facts which really suggested his theory of the 'excrescent'\npopulation, produced by the over-speculation of capitalists. The\npaupers of Glasgow were 'excrescent,' and the 'gluts' were visible in\nthe commercial crises which had thrown numbers of poor weavers out of\nemployment and degraded them into permanent paupers. The facts were\nbefore his eyes, if the generalisation was hasty and crude. He held,\non the other hand, that indiscriminate charity, and still more the\nestablishment by poor-laws of a legal right to support, was\nstimulating the evil. The poor-law had worked incalculable mischiefs\nin England,[422] and he struggled vigorously, though unavailingly, to\nresist its introduction into Scotland. Chalmers, however, did not\naccept the theory ascribed to the Utilitarians, that the remedy for\nthe evils was simply to leave things alone. He gives his theory in an\narticle upon the connection between the extension of the church and\nthe extinction of pauperism. He defends Malthus against the\n'execrations' of sentimentalism. Malthus, he thinks, would not\nsuppress but change the direction of beneficence. A vast expenditure\nhas only stimulated pauperism. The true course is not to diminish the\nrates but to make them 'flow into the wholesome channel of maintaining\nan extended system of moral and religious instruction.'[423] In other\nwords, suppress workhouses but build schools and churches; organise\ncharity and substitute a systematic individual inspection for reckless\nand indiscriminate almsgiving. Then you will get to the root of the\nmischief. The church, supported from the land, is to become the great\ncivilising agent. Chalmers, accordingly, was an ardent advocate of a\nchurch establishment. He became the leader of the Free Church movement\nnot as objecting to an establishment on principle, but because he\nthought that the actual legal fetters of the Scottish establishment\nmade it impossible to carry out an effective reorganisation and\ntherefore unable to discharge its true functions.\n\nHere Chalmers's economical theories are crossed by various political\nand ecclesiastical questions with which I am not concerned. His\npeculiarities as an economist bring out, I think, an important point.\nHe shows how Malthus's views might be interpreted by a man who,\ninstead of sharing, was entirely opposed to the ordinary capitalist\nprejudices. It would be idle to ask which was the more logical\ndevelopment of Malthus. When two systems are full of doubtful\nassumptions of fact and questionable logic and vague primary\nconceptions, that question becomes hardly intelligible. We can only\nnote the various turns given to the argument by the preconceived\nprejudices of the disputants. By most of them the Malthusian view was\ninterpreted as implying the capitalist as distinguished from the\nlandowning point of view.\n\nTo Southey as to Chalmers the great evil of the day was the growth of\nthe disorganised populace under the factory system. The difference is\nthat while Chalmers enthusiastically adopted Malthus's theory as\nindicating the true remedy for the evil, Southey regards it with\nhorror as declaring the evil to be irremediable. Chalmers, a shrewd\nScot actively engaged in parochial work, had his attention fixed upon\nthe reckless improvidence of the 'excrescent' population, and welcomed\na doctrine which laid stress upon the necessity of raising the\nstandard of prudence and morality. He recognised and pointed out with\ngreat force the inadequacy of such palliatives as emigration,\nhome-colonisation, and so forth.[424] Southey, an ardent and impulsive\nman of letters, with no practical experience of the difficulties of\nsocial reform, has no patience for such inquiries. His remedy, in all\ncases, was a 'paternal government' vigorously regulating society; and\nMalthus appears to him to be simply an opponent of all such action.\nSouthey had begun the attack in 1803 by an article in the _Annual\nReview_ (edited by A. Aikin) for which the leading hints were given by\nColeridge, then with Southey at Keswick.[425] In his letters and his\nlater articles he never mentions Malthus without abhorrence.[426]\nMalthus, according to his article in the _Annual Review_, regards\n'vice' and 'misery' as desirable; thinks that the 'gratification of\nlust' is a 'physical necessity'; and attributes to the 'physical\nconstitution of our nature' what should be ascribed to the 'existing\nsystem of society.' Malthus, that is, is a fatalist, a materialist,\nand an anarchist. His only remedy is to abolish the poor-rates, and\nstarve the poor into celibacy. The folly and wickedness of the book\nhave provoked him, he admits, to contemptuous indignation; and Malthus\nmay be a good man personally. Still, the 'farthing candle' of\nMalthus's fame as a political philosopher must soon go out. So in the\n_Quarterly Review_ Southey attributes the social evils to the\ndisintegrating effect of the manufacturing system, of which Adam Smith\nwas the 'tedious and hard-hearted' prophet. The excellent Malthus\nindeed becomes the 'hard-hearted' almost as Hooker was the\n'judicious.' This sufficiently represents the view of the sentimental\nTory. Malthus, transformed into a monster, deserves the 'execrations'\nnoticed by Chalmers. There is a thorough coincidence between this view\nand that of the sentimental Radicals. Southey observes that Malthus\n(as interpreted by him) does not really answer Godwin. Malthus argues\nthat 'perfectibility' gives an impossible end because equality would\nlead to vice and misery. But why should we not suppose with Godwin a\nchange of character which would imply prudence and chastity? Men as\nthey are may be incapable of equality because they have brutal\npassions. But men as they are to be may cease to be brutal and become\ncapable of equality. This, indeed, represents a serious criticism.\nWhat Malthus was really concerned to prove was that the social state\nand the corresponding character suppose each other; and that real\nimprovement supposes that the individual must somehow acquire the\ninstincts appropriate to an improved state. The difference between him\nand his opponents was that he emphasised the mischief of legislation,\nsuch as that embodied in the poor-law, which contemplated a forcible\nchange, destroying poverty without raising the poor man's character.\nSuch a rise required a long and difficult elaboration, and he\ntherefore dwells mainly upon the folly of the legislative, unsupported\nby the moral, remedy. To Godwin, on the other hand, who professed an\nunlimited faith in the power of reason, this difficulty was\ncomparatively unimportant. Remove political inequalities and men will\nspontaneously become virtuous and prudent.\n\nGodwin accordingly, when answering Dr. Parr and Mackintosh,[427] in\n1801, welcomed Malthus's first version of the essay. He declares it to\nbe as 'unquestionable an addition to the theory of political economy'\nas has been made by any writer for a century past; and 'admits the\nratios to their full extent.'[428] In this philosophical spirit he\nproceeds to draw some rather startling conclusions. He hopes that, as\nmankind improves, such practices as infanticide will not be necessary;\nbut he remarks that it would be happier for a child to perish in\ninfancy than to spend seventy years in vice and misery.[429] He refers\nto the inhabitants of Ceylon as a precedent for encouraging other\npractices restrictive of population. In short, though he hopes that\nsuch measures may be needless, he does not shrink from admitting their\npossible necessity. So far, then, Godwin and Malthus might form an\nalliance. Equality might be the goal of both; and both might admit the\nnecessity of change in character as well as in the political\nframework; only that Malthus would lay more stress upon the evil of\nlegislative changes outrunning or independent of moral change. Here,\nhowever, arose the real offence. Malthus had insisted upon the\nnecessity of self-help. He had ridiculed the pretensions of government\nto fix the rate of wages; and had shown how the poor-laws defeated\ntheir own objects. This was the really offensive ground to the\npolitical Radicals. They had been in the habit of tracing all evils to\nthe selfishness and rapacity of the rulers; pensions, sinecures,\npublic debts, huge armies, profligate luxuries of all kinds, were the\nfruits of bad government and the true causes of poverty. Kings and\npriests were the harpies who had settled upon mankind, and were\nruining their happiness. Malthus, they thought, was insinuating a base\napology for rulers when he attributed the evil to the character of the\nsubjects instead of attributing it to the wickedness of their rulers.\nHe was as bad as the old Tory, Johnson,[430] exclaiming:--\n\n    'How small of all that human hearts endure\n    That part which kings and laws can cause or cure!'\n\nHe was, they held, telling the tyrants that it was not their fault if\nthe poor were miserable. The essay was thus an apology for the\nheartlessness of the rich. This view was set forth by Hazlitt in an\nattack upon Malthus in 1807.[431] It appears again in the _Enquiry_ by\nG. Ensor (1769-1843)--a vivacious though rather long-winded Irishman,\nwho was known both to O'Connell and to Bentham.[432] Godwin himself\nwas roused by the appearance of the fifth edition of Malthus's _Essay_\nto write a reply, which appeared in 1820. He was helped by David Booth\n(1766-1846),[433] a man of some mathematical and statistical\nknowledge. Hazlitt's performance is sufficiently significant of the\ngeneral tendency. Hazlitt had been an enthusiastic admirer of Godwin,\nand retained as much of the enthusiasm as his wayward prejudices would\nallow. He was through life what may be called a sentimental Radical,\nso far as Radicalism was compatible with an ardent worship of\nNapoleon. To him Napoleon meant the enemy of Pitt and Liverpool and\nCastlereagh and the Holy Alliance. Hazlitt could forgive any policy\nwhich meant the humiliation of the men whom he most heartily hated.\nHis attack upon Malthus was such as might satisfy even Cobbett, whose\ncapacity for hatred, and especially for this particular object of\nhatred, was equal to Hazlitt's. The personal rancour of which Hazlitt\nwas unfortunately capable leads to monstrous imputations. Not only\ndoes Malthus's essay show the 'little low rankling malice of a parish\nbeadle ... disguised in the garb of philosophy,' and bury 'false\nlogic' under 'a heap of garbled calculations,'[434] and so forth; but\nhe founds insinuations upon Malthus's argument as to the constancy of\nthe sexual passion. Malthus, he fully believes, has none of the\nordinary passions, anger, pride, avarice, or the like, but declares\nthat he must be a slave to an 'amorous complexion,' and believe all\nother men to be made 'of the same combustible materials.'[435] This\nfoul blow is too characteristic of Hazlitt's usual method; but\nindicates also the tone which could be taken by contemporary\njournalism.\n\nThe more serious argument is really that the second version of Malthus\nis an answer to his first. Briefly, the 'moral check' which came in\nonly as a kind of afterthought is a normal part of the process by\nwhich population is kept within limits, and prevents the monstrous\nresults of the 'geometrical ratio.' Hazlitt, after insisting upon\nthis, admits that there is nothing in 'the general principles here\nstated that Mr. Malthus is at present disposed to deny, or that he has\nnot himself expressly insisted upon in some part or other of his\nvarious works.'[436] He only argues that Malthus's concessions are\nmade at the cost of self-contradiction. Why then, it may be asked,\nshould not Hazlitt take the position of an improver and harmoniser of\nthe doctrine rather than of a fierce opponent? The answer has been\nalready implied. He regards Malthus as an apologist for an unjust\ninequality. Malthus, he says, in classifying the evils of life, has\n'allotted to the poor all the misery, and to the rich as much vice as\nthey please.'[437] The check of starvation will keep down the numbers\nof the poor; and the check of luxury and profligacy will restrain the\nmultiplication of the rich. 'The poor are to make a formal surrender\nof their right to provoke charity or parish assistance that the rich\nmay be able to lay out all their money on their vices.'[438] The\nmisery of the lower orders is the result of the power of the upper. A\nman born into a world where he is not wanted has no right, said\nMalthus, to a share of the food. That might be true if the poor were a\nset of lazy supernumeraries living on the industrious. But the truth\nis that the poor man does the work, and is forced to put up in return\nwith a part of the produce of his labour.[439] The poor-laws recognise\nthe principle that those who get all from the labour of others should\nprovide from their superfluities for the necessities of those in\nwant.[440] The 'grinding necessity' of which Malthus had spoken does\nnot raise but lower the standard; and a system of equality would\nlessen instead of increasing the pressure. Malthus, again, has\nproposed that parents should be responsible for their children. That\nis, says Hazlitt, Malthus would leave children to starvation, though\nhe professes to disapprove infanticide. He would 'extinguish every\nspark of humanity ... towards the children of others' on pretence of\npreserving the 'ties of parental affection.' Malthus tries to argue\nthat the 'iniquity of government' is not the cause of poverty. That\nbelief, he says, has generated discontent and revolution. That is,\nsays Hazlitt, the way to prevent revolutions and produce reforms is to\npersuade people that all the evils which government may inflict are\ntheir own fault. Government is to do as much mischief as it pleases,\nwithout being answerable for it.[441] The poor-laws, as Hazlitt\nadmits, are bad, but do not show the root of the evil. The evils are\nreally due to increasing tyranny, dependence, indolence, and\nunhappiness due to other causes. Pauperism has increased because the\ngovernment and the rich have had their way in everything. They have\nsquandered our revenues, multiplied sinecures and pensions, doubled\nsalaries, given monopolies and encouraged jobs, and depressed the poor\nand industrious. The 'poor create their own fund,' and the necessity\nfor it has arisen from the exorbitant demands made by the rich.[442]\nMalthus is a Blifil,[443] hypocritically insinuating arguments in\nfavour of tyranny under pretence of benevolence.\n\nHazlitt's writing, although showing the passions of a bitter partisan,\nhits some of Malthus's rather cloudy argumentation. His successor,\nEnsor, representing the same view, finds an appropriate topic in the\nwrongs of Ireland. Irish poverty, he holds, is plainly due not to\nover-population but to under-government,[444] meaning, we must\nsuppose, misgovernment. But the same cause explains other cases. The\n'people are poor and are growing poorer,'[445] and there is no mystery\nabout it. The expense of a court, the waste of the profits and money\nin the House of Commons, facts which are in striking contrast to the\nrepublican virtues of the United States, are enough to account for\neverything; and Malthus's whole aim is to 'calumniate the people.'\nGodwin in 1820 takes up the same taunts. Malthus ought, he thinks, to\nwelcome war, famine, pestilence, and the gallows.[446] He has taught\nthe poor that they have no claim to relief, and the rich that, by\nindulging in vice, they are conferring a benefit upon the country. The\npoor-laws admit a right, and he taunts Malthus for proposing to\nabolish it, and refusing food to a poor man on the ground that he had\nnotice not to come into the world two years before he was born.[447]\n\nGodwin, whose earlier atheism had been superseded by a vague deism,\nnow thinks with Cobbett that the poor were supported by the piety of\nthe mediaeval clergy, who fed the hungry and clothed the naked from\ntheir vast revenues, while dooming themselves to spare living.[448] He\nappeals to the authority of the Christian religion, which indeed might\nbe a fair _argumentum ad hominem_ against 'Parson Malthus.' He\ndeclares that Nature takes more care of her work than such irreverent\nauthors suppose, and 'does not ask our aid to keep down the excess of\npopulation.'[449] In fact, he doubts whether population increases at\nall. Malthus's whole theory, he says, rests upon the case of America;\nand with the help of Mr. Booth and some very unsatisfactory\nstatistics, he tries to prove that the increase shown in the American\ncensus has been entirely due to immigration. Malthus safely declined\nto take any notice of a production which in fact shows that Godwin\nhad lost his early vigour. The sound Utilitarian, Francis Place, took\nup the challenge, and exploded some of Godwin's statistics. He shows\nhis Radicalism by admitting that Malthus, to whose general benevolence\nhe does justice, had not spoken of the poor as one sprung like himself\nfrom the poor would naturally do; and he accepts modes of limiting the\npopulation from which Malthus himself had shrunk. For improvement, he\nlooks chiefly to the abolition of restrictive laws.\n\n\nII. SOCIALISM\n\nThe arguments of Hazlitt and his allies bring us back to the Socialist\nposition. Although it was represented by no writer of much literary\nposition, Owen was becoming conspicuous, and some of his sympathisers\nwere already laying down principles more familiar to-day. Already, in\nthe days of the Six Acts, the government was alarmed by certain\n'Spencean Philanthropists.' According to Place they were a very feeble\nsect, numbering only about fifty, and perfectly harmless. Their\nprophet was a poor man called Thomas Spence (1750-1815),[450] who had\nstarted as a schoolmaster, and in 1775 read a paper at Newcastle\nbefore a 'Philosophical Society.'[451] He proposed that the land in\nevery village should belong to all the inhabitants--a proposal which\nMr. Hyndman regards as a prophecy of more thoroughgoing schemes of\nLand Nationalisation. Spence drifted to London, picked up a precarious\nliving, partly by selling books of a revolutionary kind, and died in\n1815, leaving, it seems, a few proselytes. A writer of higher literary\ncapacity was Charles Hall, a physician at Tavistock, who in 1805\npublished a book on _The Effects of Civilisation_.[452] The effects of\ncivilisation, he holds, are simply pernicious. Landed property\noriginated in violence, and has caused all social evils. A great\nlandlord consumes unproductively as much as would keep eight thousand\npeople.[453] He gets everything from the labour of the poor; while\nthey are forced to starvation wages by the raising of rents. Trade and\nmanufactures are equally mischievous. India gets nothing but jewellery\nfrom Europe, and Europe nothing but muslin from India, while so much\nless food is produced in either country.[454] Manufactures generally\nare a cause and sign of the poverty of nations.[455]\n\nSuch sporadic protests against the inequalities of wealth may be taken\nas parts of that 'ancient tale of wrong' which has in all ages been\nsteaming up from the suffering world, and provoking a smile from\nepicurean deities. As Owenism advanced, the argument took a more\ndistinct form. Mill[456] mentions William Thompson of Cork as a 'very\nestimable man,' who was the 'principal champion' of the Owenites in\ntheir debates with the Benthamites. He published in 1824 a book upon\nthe distribution of wealth.[457] It is wordy, and is apt to remain in\nthe region of 'vague generalities' just at the points where specific\nstatements would be welcome. But besides the merit of obvious\nsincerity and good feeling, it has the interest of showing very\nclearly the relation between the opposing schools. Thompson had a\ncommon ground with the Utilitarians, though they undoubtedly would\nconsider his logic to be loose and overridden by sentimentalism. In\nthe first place, he heartily admired Bentham: 'the most profound and\ncelebrated writer on legislation in this or any other country.'[458]\nHe accepts the 'greatest happiness principle' as applicable to the\nsocial problem. He argues for equality upon Bentham's ground. Take a\npenny from a poor man to give it to the rich man, and the poor man\nclearly loses far more happiness than the rich man gains. With\nBentham, too, he admits the importance of 'security,' and agrees that\nit is not always compatible with equality. A man should have the\nfruits of his labour; and therefore the man who labours most should\nhave most. But, unlike Bentham, he regards equality as more important\nthan security. To him the main consideration is the monstrous mass of\nevil resulting from vast accumulations of wealth in a few hands. In\nthe next place, he adapts to his own purpose the Ricardian theory of\nvalue. All value whatever, he argues, is created by labour. The\nlabourer, he infers, should have the value which he creates. As things\nare, the labourer parts with most of it to the capitalist or the owner\nof rents. The capitalist claims a right to the whole additional\nproduction due to the employment of capital. The labourer, on the\nother hand, may claim a right to the whole additional production,\nafter replacing the wear and tear and allowing to the capitalist\nenough to support him in equal comfort with the productive\nlabourers.[459] Thompson holds that while either system would be\ncompatible with 'security,' the labourer's demand is sanctioned by\n'equality.' In point of fact, neither system has been fully carried\nout; but the labourer's view would tend to prevail with the spread of\nknowledge and justice. While thus anticipating later Socialism, he\ndiffers on a significant point. Thompson insists upon the importance\nof 'voluntary exchange' as one of his first principles. No one is to\nbe forced to take what he does not himself think a fair equivalent for\nhis labour. Here, again, he would coincide with the Utilitarians.\nThey, not less than he, were for free trade and the abolition of every\nkind of monopoly. But that view may lead by itself to the simple\nadoption of the do-nothing principle, or, as modern Socialists would\nsay, to the more effectual plunder of the poor. The modern Socialist\ninfers that the means of production must be in some way nationalised.\nThompson does not contemplate such a consummation. He denounces, like\nall the Radicals of the day, monopolies and conspiracy laws. Sinecures\nand standing armies and State churches are the strongholds of tyranny\nand superstition. The 'hereditary possession of wealth' is one of the\nmaster-evils, and with sinecures will disappear the systems of entails\nand unequal distribution of inheritance.[460] Such institutions have\nencouraged the use of fraud and force, and indirectly degraded the\nlabourer into a helpless position. He would sweep them all away, and\nwith them all disqualifications imposed upon women.[461] This once\ndone, it will be necessary to establish a universal and thoroughgoing\nsystem of education. Then the poor man, freed from the shackles of\nsuperstition and despotism, will be able to obtain his rights as\nknowledge and justice spread through the whole community. The desire\nto accumulate for selfish purposes will itself disappear. The labourer\nwill get all that he creates; the aggregate wealth will be enormously\nmultiplied, though universally diffused; and the form taken by the new\nsociety will, as he argues at great length, be that of voluntary\nco-operative associations upon Owen's principles.\n\nThe economists would, of course, reject the theory that the\ncapitalists should have no profits; but, in spite of this, they might\nagree to a great extent with Thompson's aspirations. Thompson,\nhowever, holds the true Socialist sentiment of aversion to Malthus. He\ndenies energetically what he takes to be the Malthusian doctrine: that\nincreased comfort will always produce increased numbers.[462] This has\nbeen the 'grand scarecrow to frighten away all attempts at social\nimprovement.' Thompson accordingly asserts that increased comfort\nalways causes increased prudence ultimately; and looks forward to a\nstationary state in which the births will just balance the deaths. I\nneed not inquire here which theory puts the cart before the horse. The\nopposition possibly admits of reconciliation; but here I only remark\nonce more how Malthus stood for the appeal to hard facts which always\nprovoked the Utopians as much as it corresponded to the stern\nUtilitarian view.\n\nAnother writer, Thomas Hodgskin, honorary secretary of the Birkbeck\nInstitution, who published a tract called _Labour defended against the\nClaims of Capital, or the Unproductiveness of Capital proved_ (1825),\nand afterwards gave some popular lectures on political economy, has\nbeen noticed as anticipating Socialist ideas. He can see, he says, why\nsomething should go to the maker of a road and something be paid by\nthe person who gets the benefit of it. But he does not see why the\nroad itself should have anything.[463] Hodgskin writes without\nbitterness, if without much logic. It is not for me to say whether\nmodern Socialists are well advised in admitting that these crude\nsuggestions were anticipations of their own ideas. The most natural\ninference would be that vague guesses about the wickedness of the rich\nhave been in all ages current among the poor, and now and then take\nmore pretentious form. Most men want very naturally to get as much and\nto work as little as they can, and call their desire a first principle\nof justice.\n\nPerhaps, however, it is fairer to notice in how many points there was\nunconscious agreement; and how by converting very excellent maxims\ninto absolute dogmas, from which a whole system was deducible, the\ntheories appeared to be mutually contradictory, and, taken separately,\nbecame absurd. The palpable and admitted evil was the growth of\npauperism and demoralisation of the labourer. The remedy, according to\nthe Utilitarians, is to raise the sense of individual responsibility,\nto make a man dependent upon his own exertions, and to give him\nsecurity that he will enjoy their fruit. Let government give education\non one hand and security on the other, and equality will follow in due\ntime. The sentimental Radical naturally replies that leaving a man to\nstarve does not necessarily make him industrious; that, in point of\nfact, great and growing inequality of wealth has resulted; and that\nthe rights of man should be applied not only to political privilege,\nbut to the possession of property. The Utilitarians have left out\njustice by putting equality in the background. Justice, as Bentham\nreplied, has no meaning till you have settled by experience what laws\nwill produce happiness; and your absolute equality would destroy the\nvery mainspring of social improvement. Meanwhile the Conservative\nthinks that both parties are really fostering the evils by making\nindividualism supreme, and that organisation is necessary to\nimprovement; while one set of Radicals would perpetuate a mere blind\nstruggle for existence, and the other enable the lowest class to\nenforce a dead level of ignorance and stupidity. They therefore call\nupon government to become paternal and active, and to teach not only\nmorality but religion; and upon the aristocracy to discharge its\nfunctions worthily, in order to stamp out social evils and prevent a\nservile insurrection. But how was the actual government of George IV.\nand Sidmouth and Eldon to be converted to a sense of its duties? On\neach side appeal is made to a sweeping and absolute principle, and\namazingly complex and difficult questions of fact are taken for\ngranted. The Utilitarians were so far right that they appealed to\nexperience, as, in fact, such questions have to be settled by the slow\nco-operation of many minds in many generations. Unfortunately the\nUtilitarians had, as we have seen, a very inadequate conception of\nwhat experience really meant, and were fully as rash and dogmatic as\ntheir opponents. I must now try to consider what were the intellectual\nconceptions implied by their mode of treating these problems.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[392] The discussions of population most frequently mentioned are:--W.\nGodwin, _Thoughts occasioned by Dr. Parr's Spital Sermon_, etc., 1801;\nR. Southey, in (Aikin's) _Annual Review for 1803_, pp. 292-301; Thomas\nJarrold, _Dissertations on Man_, etc., 1806; W. Hazlitt, _Reply to the\nEssay on Population_, 1807; A. Ingram, _Disquisitions on Population_,\n1808; John Weyland, _Principles of Population_, etc., 1806; James\nGrahame, _Inquiry into the Principle of Population_, 1816; George\nEnsor, _Inquiry concerning the Population of Nations_, 1818; W.\nGodwin, _On Population_, 1820; Francis Place, _Principles of\nPopulation_, 1822; David Booth, _Letter to the Rev. T. R. Malthus_,\n1823; M. T. Sadler, _Law of Population_, 1830; A. Alison, _Principles\nof Population_, 1840; T. Doubleday, _True Law of Population_, 1842.\n\n[393] _Quarterly Review_, Dec. 1812 (reprinted in Southey's _Moral and\nPolitical Essays_, 1832).\n\n[394] _Quarterly Review_, July 1817, by (Archbishop) Sumner, Malthus's\ncommentator in the _Records of Creation_. Ricardo's _Letters to\nTrower_, p. 47.\n\n[395] _Spence's Tracts on Political Economy_ were collected with a\npreface in 1822. Spence is better known as an entomologist, and\ncollaborated with William Kirby.\n\n[396] _Tracts_ (1822), p. xiii.\n\n[397] _Ibid._ p. 59.\n\n[398] Chalmers's _Works_ were published in twenty-five volumes in\n1841-42.\n\n[399] Chalmers's _Works_, i. 237.\n\n[400] This essay is not in his collected _Works_, though in vol. xxi.\nit is promised for the next volume.\n\n[401] _Works_, xix. and xx.\n\n[402] Mill's _Political Economy_, bk. i. ch. v. Sec. 7 and 8. See\nChalmers, xix. 140.\n\n[403] _National Resources_ (Appendix).\n\n[404] _Works_, xix. 306.\n\n[405] _Ibid._ xix. 226, 233.\n\n[406] _National Resources_, p. 48.\n\n[407] _Works_, xix. 64.\n\n[408] _Works_, xix. 226.\n\n[409] _Ibid._ xix. 235.\n\n[410] _National Resources_, p. 158.\n\n[411] _Ibid._ p. 160.\n\n[412] _Works_, xix. 262.\n\n[413] _Works_, xix. 75.\n\n[414] _Ibid._ xix. 118-47.\n\n[415] _Ibid._ xix. 343.\n\n[416] See _Ibid._ xix. 171. J. S. Mill speaks of Chalmers's\nspeculations with a respect which it is difficult to understand.\n\n[417] Chalmers holds that the Ricardian doctrine of rent inverts the\ntrue order. Fertile lands do not pay rent because poor lands are\nbrought into cultivation, but poor lands are cultivated because\nfertile lands pay rent. He apparently wishes, like Malthus, to regard\nrent as a blessing, not a curse. The point is not worth arguing. See\n_Works_, xix. 320.\n\n[418] _Works_, xix. 304-5.\n\n[419] _Ibid._ xix. 370.\n\n[420] _Ibid._ xix. 366.\n\n[421] _Ibid._ xix. 322.\n\n[422] _Works_, xx. 247, 296.\n\n[423] _Ibid._ xx. 290.\n\n[424] _Works_, xix. 380.\n\n[425] The copy of Malthus's second edition with Coleridge's notes used\nby Southey is in the British Museum.\n\n[426] See Southey's _Political_.\n\n[427] _Thoughts occasioned by Dr. Parr's Spital Sermon._ A copy\nannotated by Coleridge is in the British Museum.\n\n[428] _Thoughts_, etc., pp. 56, 61, 62.\n\n[429] _Ibid._ p. 71.\n\n[430] Lines added to Goldsmith's _Traveller_.\n\n[431] _Reply to the Essay on Population_, etc., 1807. The book was\nanonymous. The first three letters had appeared in Cobbett's\n_Register_. Two others with an appendix are added.\n\n[432] Bentham's _Works_, x. 603, 604; and _Dictionary of National\nBiography_.\n\n[433] See _Dictionary of National Biography_.\n\n[434] Hazlitt's _Reply_, p. 19.\n\n[435] _Ibid._ pp. 139-41.\n\n[436] _Ibid._ p. 117.\n\n[437] _Reply_, p. 263.\n\n[438] _Ibid._ p. 344.\n\n[439] _Ibid._ p. 284.\n\n[440] _Ibid._ p. 287.\n\n[441] _Reply_, p. 351.\n\n[442] _Ibid._ pp. 362-64.\n\n[443] _Ibid._ p. 352.\n\n[444] Ensor's _Enquiry_, p. 294.\n\n[445] _Ibid._ p. 441.\n\n[446] _Godwin on Population_, p. 506.\n\n[447] _Ibid._ p. 553.\n\n[448] _Ibid._ p. 558.\n\n[449] Godwin, p. 219.\n\n[450] See account of him reprinted from Mackenzie's _History of\nNewcastle_ and _Dictionary of National Biography_.\n\n[451] Reprinted by Mr. Hyndman in 1822, with a preface.\n\n[452] See _Dictionary of National Biography_. Hall's book was\nreprinted by J. M. Morgan in the 'Phoenix Library,' 1850. See Anton\nMenger's _Das Recht auf den vollen Arbeitsertrag_ (second edition,\n1891), for notices of Hall, Thompson, and others.\n\n[453] _Effects of Civilisation_ (1850), p. 86.\n\n[454] _Ibid._ p. 71.\n\n[455] _Ibid._ p. 115.\n\n[456] _Autobiography_, p. 125. See Holyoake's _History of\nCo-operation_, i. 16, 109, 278-83, 348, for some interesting notices\nof Thompson. Menger (_Recht auf den vollen Arbeitsertrag_, p. 100\n_n._) holds that Thompson not only anticipated but inspired Marx:\nRodbertus, he says, drew chiefly upon St. Simon and Proudhon.\n\n[457] _An Inquiry into the Principles of the Distribution of Wealth\nmost conducive to Human Happiness; applied to the Newly Proposed\nSystem of Voluntary Equality of Wealth._--1824.\n\n[458] _Distribution of Wealth_, p. 327.\n\n[459] _Distribution of Wealth_, p. 167, etc.\n\n[460] _Ibid._ p. 310.\n\n[461] He wrote, as J. S. Mill observes, an _Appeal_ [1825] against\nJames Mill's views on this matter--a fact which no doubt commended him\nto the son.\n\n[462] _Distribution of Wealth_, pp. 425, 535, etc.\n\n[463] _Labour Defended_, p. 16.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nPSYCHOLOGY\n\n\nI. THOMAS BROWN\n\nThe politicians and economists, of whom I have spoken, took first\nprinciples for granted. The intellectual temperament, which made\ncertain methods congenial to them, would no doubt have led them to an\nanalogous position in philosophy. Bentham had touched upon\nphilosophical points in a summary way, and James Mill, as we shall\nsee, gave a more explicit statement. But such men as Ricardo and\nMalthus had no systematic philosophy, though a certain philosophy was\ncongenial to their methods. Desire to reach a solid groundwork of\nfact, hearty aversion to mere word-juggling, and to effeminate\nsentimentalism, respect for science and indifference to, if not\ncontempt for, poetry, resolution to approve no laws or institutions\nwhich could not be supported on plain grounds of utility, and to\naccept no theory which could not be firmly based on verifiable\nexperience, imply moral and intellectual tendencies, in which we may\nperhaps say that the Utilitarians represent some of the strongest and\nmost valuable qualities of the national character. Taking these\nqualities for granted, let us consider how the ultimate problems\npresented themselves to the school thus distinguished.\n\nI have already observed that the Scottish philosophy, taught by Reid\nand Dugald Stewart, represented the only approach to a living\nphilosophical system in these islands at the beginning of the century.\nIt held this position for a long period. Mill, who had heard Dugald\nStewart's lectures, knew nothing of German thought. He was well read\nin French philosophers, and in harmony with one leading sect. The\nso-called _ideologues_,[464] who regarded Condillac as representing\nthe true line of intellectual progress, were in France the analogues\nof the English Utilitarians. Destutt de Tracy and Cabanis were their\nmost conspicuous leaders in this generation. The philosophy of Reid\nand Stewart crossed the channel, and supplied the first assailants of\nthe _ideologues_ with their controversial weapons. Thus, until the\nGerman influence came to modify the whole controversy, the vital issue\nseemed to lie between the doctrine of Reid or 'intuitionism' on the\none hand, and the purely 'experiential' school on the other, whether,\nas in France, it followed Condillac, or, as in England, looked back\nchiefly to Hartley. Both sections traced their intellectual ancestry\nto Locke and Hobbes, with some reference to Bacon, and, by the French\nwriters, to Descartes. Stewart, again, as I have said, was the\naccepted Whig philosopher. It is true that the Whig sat habitually in\nthe seat of Gallio. Jeffrey, whether he fully realised the fact or\nnot, was at bottom a sceptic in philosophy as in politics. John Allen,\nthe prophet of Holland House, was a thorough sceptic, and says[465]\nthat Horner, one of Stewart's personal admirers, was really a\nfollower of Hume. The Whigs were inclined to Shaftesbury's doctrine\nthat sensible men had all one religion, and that sensible men never\nsaid what it was. Those who had a more definite and avowable creed\nwere content to follow Stewart's amiable philosophising. Brougham\nprofessed, let us hope, sincerely, to be an orthodox theist, and\nexplained the argument from design in a commentary upon Paley. Sydney\nSmith expounded Reid and Stewart in lectures which showed at least\nthat he was still a wit when talking 'philosophy' at the Royal\nInstitution; and, though he hated 'enthusiasm' in dissenters,\nevangelicals, and tractarians, and kept religion strictly in its\nplace--a place well outside of practical politics--managed to preach a\nwholesome, commonplace morality in terms of Christian theology. The\ndifference between the Whig and the Radical temper showed itself in\nphilosophical as in political questions. The Radical prided himself on\nbeing logical and thoroughgoing, while the Whig loved compromise, and\nthought that logic was very apt to be a nuisance. The systematic\nreticence which the Utilitarians held to be necessary prevented this\ncontrast from showing itself distinctly on the surface. The\nUtilitarians, however, though they avoided such outspoken scepticism\nas would startle the public, indicated quite sufficiently to the\ninitiated their essential position. It implied what they fully\nrecognised in private conversation--a complete abandonment of\ntheology. They left the obvious inferences to be drawn by others. In\nphilosophy they could speak out in a well-founded confidence that few\npeople were able to draw inferences. I will begin by considering the\ndoctrine against which they protested; for the antagonism reveals, I\nthink, the key to their position.\n\nWhen Stewart was obliged by infirmity to retire from the active\ndischarge of his duties, he was succeeded by Thomas Brown (1778-1820).\nBrown had shown early precocity, and at the age of fifteen had\nattracted Stewart's notice by some remarks on a psychological point.\nHe published at twenty a criticism of Darwin's _Zoonomia_, and he\nbecame one of the _Edinburgh Review_ circle. When the _Review_ was\nstarted he contributed an article upon Kant. In those happy days it\nwas so far from necessary to prepare oneself for such a task by\nstudying a library of commentators that the young reviewer could\nfrankly admit his whole knowledge to be derived from Villers'\n_Philosophie de Kant_ (1801).[466] Soon afterwards he took an\nimportant share in a once famous controversy. John Leslie, just\nelected to the mathematical chair at Edinburgh, was accused of having\nwritten favourably of Hume's theory of causation. Whigs and Tories\ntook this up as a party question,[467] and Brown undertook to explain\nin a pamphlet what Hume's theory was, and to show that it did not lead\nto atheism. Leslie's friends triumphed, though it does not appear how\nfar Brown's arguments contributed to their success. The pamphlet was\nrewritten and enlarged, and a third edition of 1818 gives a full\nexposition of his theory. Brown had meanwhile become Stewart's leading\ndisciple, and in 1810 was elected to be his colleague. Brown held the\nposition, doing all the active duties, until his premature death in\n1820. Brown, according to his biographer, wrote his lectures\nimmediately before delivery, and completed them during his first two\nyears of office. His theories, as well as his words, were often,\naccording to the same authority, extemporised. Brown found that he\ncould not improve what he had written under 'very powerful\nexcitement.' Moreover, he had an unlucky belief that he was a poet.\nFrom 1814 till 1819 he brought out yearly what he supposed to be a\npoem. These productions, the _Paradise of Coquets_ and the rest, are\nin the old-fashioned taste, and have long passed into oblivion.\n\nThe lectures, published posthumously, became a text-book for students,\nand reached a nineteenth edition in 1851. Their faults, considered as\nphilosophical treatises, are palpable. They have the wordiness of\nhasty composition, and the discursive rhetoric intended to catch the\nattention of an indolent audience. Brown does not see that he is\ninsulting his hearers when he apologises for introducing logic into\nlectures upon metaphysics, and indemnifies them by quotations from\nAkenside and the _Essay on Man_. Brown, however, showed great\nacuteness and originality. He made deviations, and took pains to mark\nhis deviations, from Reid, though he spoke more guardedly of his own\nfriend, Stewart. Stewart, who had strongly supported Brown's election,\nwas shocked when, on the publication of the lectures, he came to\ndiscover that his colleague had been preaching heresy, and wrote with\nobvious annoyance of Brown's hastiness and dangerous concessions to\nthe enemy.[468] Brown, however, impressed his contemporaries by his\nability. Sydney Smith is probably reporting the current judgment of\nhis own circle when he says[469] that in metaphysics Stewart was a\n'humbug' compared with Brown. I certainly think that Stewart, whom I\nshould be sorry to call a humbug, shows less vigour and subtlety.\nBrown, at any rate, impressed both the Mills, and his relation to them\nis significant.\n\nBrown's essay upon Causation indicates this relation. In this, indeed,\nthere is little, if any, divergence from Stewart, though he attacks\nReid with considerable asperity. He urges that Reid, while really\nagreeing with Hume, affected to answer him under cover of merely\nverbal distinctions.[470] The main point is simple. Hume had asserted\nthat all events seem to be 'entirely loose and separate,' or, in other\nwords, 'conjoined but never connected.' Yet he points out that, in\nfact, when we have found two events to be 'conjoined,' we call one\ncause and the other effect, and assume a 'necessary connection'\nbetween them. He then asks, What is the origin of this belief, and\nwhat, therefore, is the logical warrant for its validity? Brown\nentirely accepts Hume's statement of the facts. The real meaning of\nour statements is evaded by appealing to the conception of 'power.'\nWhen the loadstone (in his favourite illustration) attracts the iron,\nwe say it has a 'power' of attracting iron. But to speak thus of a\npower is simply to describe the same facts in other words. We assert\nthis, and nothing more than this, that when the loadstone comes near\nthe iron, each moves towards the other. 'Power' is a word which only\ncovers a statement of 'invariable antecedence.' Brown traces the\nvarious confusions which have obscured the true nature of this belief.\nHe insists especially that we can no more discover power in mental\nthan in physical sequences. The will had been supposed to be the type\nof causal power; but volition, according to Brown, reveals simply\nanother succession of desires and bodily actions. The hypothesis of\n'power' has been really the source of 'illusion.' The tendency to\npersonify leads us to convert metaphor into fact, to invent a subject\nof this imaginary 'power,' and thus to create a mythology of beings to\ncarry on the processes of nature. In other words, Brown here follows\nHume or even anticipates Comte. As J. S. Mill remarks,[471] this\nerroneous identification of 'power' with 'will' gives the\n'psychological rationale of Comte's great historical generalisation';\nand, so far, Brown, as a follower of Hume, is clearly on the way to\npositivism.\n\nThe world, then, is a vast aggregate of 'loose' phenomena. A\ncontemplation of things reveals no reason for one order rather than\nanother. You may look at your loadstone as long as you please, but you\nwill find no reason for its attracting iron. You may indeed\ninterpolate a number of minute intervening sequences, and the process\noften suggests a vague something more than sequence; but this is a\nmere illusion.[472] Could we, in fact, see all the minute changes in\nbodies we should actually perceive that cause means nothing but 'the\nimmediate invariable antecedence of an event.'[473] Brown especially\nargues against the attempts of d'Alembert and Euler to deduce the\nfirst laws of motion from the principle of 'sufficient reason.'[474]\nThat, as he argues in detail, is merely begging the question, by\nintroducing the principle of causation under an alias.\n\nWhat, then, is the principle? We believe, he says,[475] that 'every\nevent must have a cause,' and that circumstances exactly 'similar must\nhave results exactly similar.' This belief, though applicable to all\nevents, does not give us the 'slightest aid' to determining,\nindependently of experience, any particular event. We observe that B\nfollows A, but, for all we can say, it might as well follow any other\nletter of the alphabet. Yet we are entitled to say in general that it\ndoes uniformly follow some particular letter. The metaphor which\ndescribes cause and effect as a 'bond' tying A and B together is\nperfectly appropriate if taken to express the bare fact of\nsequence;[476] but we fall into error if we fancy there is really any\nbond whatever beside the events themselves.\n\nThe belief, then, in causation has precisely the same import according\nto Hume and Brown; and both agree that it is not produced by\n'reasoning.' The proposition 'B has once succeeded A,' or 'has\nsucceeded A a thousand times,' is entirely different from the\nproposition 'B will for ever succeed A.'[477] No process of logical\ninference can extract one from the other. Shall we, then, give up a\nbelief in causation? The belief in any case exists as a fact. Hume\nexplains it by custom or association. Brown argues, and I think with\nmuch force, that Hume's explanation is insufficient. Association may\nexplain (if it does more than restate) the fact that one 'idea' calls\nup another idea, but such association may and often does occur without\nsuggesting any belief. The belief, too, precedes the association. We\nbegin by believing too much, not too little, and assume a necessary\nconnection of many phenomena which we afterwards find to be\nindependent. The true answer is therefore different. There are three\nsources of belief, 'perception,' 'reasoning,' and 'intuition.'[478]\nNow, we cannot 'perceive' anything but a present coincidence; neither\ncan we establish a connection by any process of 'reasoning,' and\ntherefore the belief must be an 'intuition.' This, accordingly, is\nBrown's conclusion. 'There are principles,' he says, 'independent of\nreasoning, in the mind which save it from the occasional follies of\nall our ratiocinations';[479] or rather, as he explains, which\nunderlie all reasoning. The difference, then, between Hume and Brown\n(and, as Brown argues, between Hume and Reid's real doctrine) is not\nas to the import, but as to the origin, of the belief. It is an\n'intuition' simply because it cannot be further analysed. It does not\nallow us to pass a single step beyond experience; it merely authorises\nus to interpret experience. We can discover any actual law of\nconnection between phenomena only by observing that they occur in\nsuccession. We cannot get beyond or behind the facts--and therefore\nintuitionism in this sense is not opposed to empiricism, but a warrant\nfor empirical conclusions. An 'intuition,' briefly, is an unanalysable\nbelief. Brown asserts that a certain element of thought has not been\nexplained, and assumes it to be therefore inexplicable or ultimate.\nBrown's account of causation had a great influence upon both the\nMills, and especially affected the teaching of the younger Mill.\n\nAnother point is important. Reid, as I have said, had specially prided\nhimself upon his supposed overthrow of Berkeley's idealism. He was\nconsidered to have shown, in spite of sceptics, that the common belief\nin an external world was reasonable. Brown in his lectures ridiculed\nReid's claim. This 'mighty achievement,' the 'supposed overthrow of a\ngreat system,' was 'nothing more than the proof that certain phrases\nare metaphorical, which were intended by their authors to be\nunderstood _only_ as metaphors.'[480] The theory was dead before Reid\nslew it, though the phrases were still used as a mere 'relic,' or\nsurvival of an obsolete doctrine.[481] The impossibility of\nconstructing extension out of our sensations is the _experimentum\ncrucis_ upon which Reid was ready to stake his case. If the attempt at\nsuch a construction could succeed, he would 'lay his hand upon his\nmouth' and give up the argument.[482] Brown takes up the challenge\nthus thrown out. He holds that our knowledge of an external world is\nderived from a source which Reid overlooked. He modifies the Scottish\npsychology by introducing the muscular senses. His theory is that the\ninfant which has learned to move discovers that on some occasions its\nmovements are modified by a sense of 'impeded effort.'[483] The sudden\ninterruption to a well-known series excites in its mind the notion of\n'a cause which is not in itself.' This is the source of our belief in\nan external world. That belief is essentially the belief in some cause\nwhich we know to be other than our own mental constitution or the\nseries of 'internal' phenomena, and of which we can know nothing else.\nIt is enough to indicate a theory which has been elaborated by later\npsychologists, and plays a great part (for example) in the theories of\nMill, Bain, and Mr. Herbert Spencer. It shows the real tendency of\nBrown's speculations. In the first place, it must be noticed that the\ntheory itself had been already emphatically stated by Destutt de\nTracy. Hamilton accuses Brown of plagiarism.[484] Whether his\naccusation be justifiable or not, it is certainly true that Brown had\nin some way reached the same principles which had been already set\nforth by a leading 'ideologist.' Brown, that is, though the official\nexponent of the Scottish philosophy, was in this philosophical tenet\nat one with the school which they regarded as materialistic or\nsceptical. The path by which he reaches his conclusions is also\ncharacteristic.\n\nBrown has reversed the interpretation of Reid's _experimentum crucis_.\nI will give up my case, says Reid, if you can make the external world\nout of sensations. That, replies Brown, is precisely what we can do.\nHow from sensations do we get what Berkeley called 'outness'? We get\nit, says Brown, from the sense of resistance or 'impeded effort.' That\nreveals to us the fact that there is something independent of\nourselves, and the belief in such a something is precisely what we\nmean, and all that we mean, by the belief in an external world.\nConsistently with this, Brown rejects Reid's distinction between the\nprimary and secondary qualities. The distinction corresponds no doubt\nto some real differences, but there is no difference of the kind\nsuggested by Reid. 'All [the qualities] are relative and equally\nrelative--our perception of extension and resistance as much as our\nperception of fragrance and bitterness.'[485] We ascribe the\nsensations to 'external objects,' but the objects are only known by\nthe 'medium' of our sensations. In other words, the whole world may be\nregarded as a set of sensations, whether of sight, smell, touch, or\nresistance to muscular movement, accompanied by the belief that they\nare caused by something not ourselves, and of which something we can\nonly say that it is not ourselves.\n\nOnce more, the analysis of the process by which the belief is\ngenerated is significant. From resistance, or the sensation produced\nwhen something 'resists our attempts to grasp it,' we get the\n'outness.' Then perception is 'nothing more than the association of\nthis complex notion with our other sensations--the notion of something\nextended and resisting, suggested by these sensations, when the\nsuggestions themselves have previously arisen, and suggested in the\nsame manner and on the same principle as any other associate feeling\nsuggests any other associate feeling.'[486] The odour or colour of a\nrose recalls the sensation of touching and of resistance to our grasp.\nThus we regard the whole group of sensations as due to the external\ncause which produces the sensation of resistance. Brown seems to\nhesitate a little as to whether he shall appeal to an 'intuition' or\nto 'association,' but 'as I rather think,' he says, the belief is\nfounded 'on associations as powerful as intuition.'[487]\n\nWhatever, then, may be the origin of the belief--'intuition' or\n'association'--it is clear that it can give us no knowledge except\nsuch as is derived from sensations. Moreover, Brown is thus led, as in\nthe doctrine of causation, to accept a really sceptical position. He\ndeclares that he is in this respect at one with both Reid and Hume.\nThey both accept two propositions: first, that we cannot 'by mere\nreasoning' prove the existence of an external world; secondly, that it\nis 'absolutely impossible for us not to believe' in its existence.\nHume, he says, pronounces the first proposition in a 'loud tone\nof voice' and 'whispers' the second. Reid, conversely, passes\nover the first rapidly and 'dwells on the second with a tone of\nconfidence.'[488] Brown accepts both statements. He has already said\nthat there is no argument against Berkeley's denial of matter any more\nthan against the 'infinite divisibility of matter.' But he adds, it is\n'physically impossible' for us to admit the conclusion, at least\nwithout 'an instant dissent from a momentary logical admission.'[489]\nThis, indeed, is but a version of Hume's familiar statement that\nBerkeley's arguments admit of no reply and produce no conviction.\n\nAnother essential doctrine of the Mills, the 'association' theory, is\ntreated differently by Brown. Brown, as we have seen, both in his\ntheory of causation and in his theory of our belief in an external\nworld, speaks of principles in the mind which somehow override\n'ratiocination.' In the first case, he speaks of 'intuition,' but in\nthe other, as I have said, he seems to prefer association. The\ndifference is remarkable because the belief in an external world is\nupon his showing simply a case of causation. It means essentially the\nreference of our sensations as to an external cause. Now, in the\nargument upon causation, he has insisted upon the insufficiency of\nassociation to generate the belief; and he would have found it\ndifficult to meet his own arguments if applied to the belief in an\nexternal world. Yet it does not seem to occur to him that there is any\ndifficulty in explaining this belief in an external world as a case\nof what Mill called 'indissoluble association.' Brown, as Mill\nthought, was not sufficiently aware of the power of this principle,\nand the difference between them is marked by this divergence. Brown\nhad a great deal to say about association, though he chose generally\nto substitute the word 'suggestion,' previously familiar to Reid and\nBerkeley.[490] He considers it, however, mainly in another relation.\nHe proposes to trace the order in which 'trains' of ideas succeed each\nother in our minds. He does not dwell upon the influence of\nassociation in producing belief. His question is not primarily as to\nthe logic, but as to the actual succession of our thoughts. He\nexplains that he uses the word 'suggestion' in order to avoid the\nhypothesis that the sequence of two ideas necessarily implies a\nprevious state of mind in which they were brought together; and\nendeavours to explain various cases (as, for example, association by\n'contrast' as well as by 'likeness' or 'continuity') by a more\n'subtile' analysis.[491] He then works out an elaborate theory of\n'simple' and 'relative' suggestion. Simple 'suggestion'[492]\ncorresponds mainly to ordinary association, as when a friend's name or\nhis book calls up the thought of the man himself. 'Relative\nsuggestion' arises when two or more objects are perceived and suggest\nvarious relations of likeness and so forth.[493] This provides a\nscheme for working out the whole doctrine of the sequences of ideas so\nfar as the sequences depend upon the mind itself and not upon external\ncauses. It thus leads to problems of abstraction and generalisation\nand to his whole theory of what he calls the 'intellectual states.' He\nagain closely coincides with the French ideologists. He starts by\nexamining Locke and Condillac. He of course professes to hold that\nCondillac's version of Locke is illegitimate, and ridicules the famous\nformula _penser c'est sentir_. He is, however, equally unwilling to\nadmit Reid's 'variety of powers.'[494] In fact, his criticism of\nCondillac shows more affinity than contrast. Condillac erred, he says,\nin holding that thoughts are 'transformed sensations.' This was a\nfalse simplification into which he considers Condillac to have been\nled partly by the ambiguity of the word _sentir_.[495] Condillac\napplied to the mind the theory, true in 'the chemistry of the material\nchemists,' that the 'compounds are the elements themselves.'[496] He\nerrs when he infers from the analogy that a feeling which arises out\nof others can be resolved into them. 'Love and hate' and other\nemotions are fundamentally different from the sensations by which they\nare occasioned, not mere 'transformations' of those sensations. We, on\nthe other hand (that is to say, Reid and Stewart), have erred by\nexcessive amplification. Instead of identifying different things, we\nhave admitted a superfluous number of 'ultimate principles.'\n\nThe result is that besides the original sensations, we have to\nconsider a number of feelings, which, while essentially different, are\n'suggested' or caused by them. These are parts of the whole\nintellectual construction, and, though not transformed sensations, are\nstill 'feelings' arising in consequence of the sensations. They are\nparts of the 'trains' or sequences of 'ideas.' It is accordingly\ncharacteristic of Brown that he habitually describes an intellectual\nprocess as a 'feeling.' The statement of a mathematical proportion,\nfor example, is a case of 'relative suggestion.' When we consider\ntwo numbers together we have a '_feeling_ of the relation of\nproportion.'[497] The 'profoundest reasonings' are 'nothing more than\na continued analysis of our thought,' by which we resolve the 'complex\n_feelings_ of our minds' into the simpler conceptions out of which\nthey were constructed.[498] In other words, Brown, it would seem,\nreally accepts the _penser c'est sentir_, only that he regards the\n_sentir_ as including separate classes of feeling, which cannot be\nregarded as simple 'transformations' of sensation. They are 'states of\nthe mind' caused by, that is, invariably following upon, the simpler\nstates, and, of course, combining in an endless variety of different\nforms. Reasoning is nothing more than a series of relative\n'suggestions of which the separate subjects are felt by us to be\nmutually related.'[499] Hence, too, arises his theory of\ngeneralisation. He is, he says, not a 'nominalist' but a\n'conceptualist,' and here, for once, agrees with Reid as against\nStewart.[500] The 'general term,' according to him, expresses the\n'feeling or general notion of resemblance,' which arises upon a\ncontemplation of two objects. 'In Nature,' as he observes\nelsewhere,[501] 'there are no classes,' but the observation of a\nnumber of particular cases and a certain feeling to which we give a\nname. Here, again, Brown's view coincides with that of his French\ncontemporaries.\n\nWe may then say briefly that Brown carries out in his own fashion the\nconception of psychology which makes it an inductive science parallel\nto the physical sciences, and to be pursued by the same methods. We\nhave to do with 'feelings' instead of atoms, and with mental instead\nof 'material' chemistry. Our sole method is still an analysis such as\nguides us in unravelling complex physical phenomena. We have, indeed,\nto admit certain first truths--the belief in our own identity is one\nof them--which are necessary to our very existence, although the\nassertion of such principles was carried to an extravagant and\nridiculous length 'by Reid and some of his friends.' When, however, we\ncome to ask what these principles are, it must be admitted that they\nare very innocent. They are not dangerous things, like 'innate ideas,'\ncapable of leading us to a transcendental world, but simply assertions\nthat we are warranted in trusting our sensations and applying a\nthoroughly inductive and empirical method. They are the cement which\njoins the feelings, and which, as Mill thought, could be supplanted by\n'indissoluble associations.' The indefinite power thus attributed to\nassociation became, as we shall see, Mill's most characteristic\ndoctrine. Meanwhile, I will only mention one inference which\nillustrates Brown's philosophical tendencies. Stewart had spoken\ndoubtfully of the ontological argument for theology. Brown throws it\nover altogether. He does not even change it into an 'intuition.' He\nhas always, he says, regarded it as 'absolutely void of force' unless\nit tacitly assumes the 'physical argument.' Nay, it is one proof of\nthe force of this physical argument that it has saved us from doubts\nwhich would be rather strengthened than weakened by the 'metaphysical\narguments.'[502] The 'physical argument' means the argument from\ndesign, which thus becomes the sole support of theology.\n\nHamilton naturally regards Brown as a mere sceptic in disguise. His\ntheory of perception destroys his theory of personal identity. He has\nrefused to accept our intuitive belief in one case, and cannot appeal\nto it in the other. He leaves no room for 'liberty of will,' and\nadvances 'no argument in support of this condition of our moral\nbeing.'[503] Indeed, as Stewart complained, Brown, by identifying\n'will' and 'desire,' has got rid of the will altogether. It is only\nnatural that a man who is making a scientific study of the laws of\nhuman nature should find no room for an assertion that within a\ncertain sphere there are no laws. A physiologist might as well admit\nthat some vital processes are uncaused.\n\nBrown thus illustrates the gravitation of the 'common-sense'\nphilosophy to pure empiricism. He was the last in the genuine line of\nScottish common-sense philosophers. When after what may be called the\nunphilosophical interregnum which followed Brown's death, Hamilton\nbecame professor, the Scottish tradition was blended with the very\ndifferent theories derived from Kant. Upon Brown's version, the\nScottish philosophy had virtually declared itself bankrupt. The\nsubstance of his teaching was that of the very school which his\npredecessors had attempted to confute, carefully as the fact might be\nhidden by dexterous rhetoric and manipulation of technical terms. He\nagrees with Hume's premises, and adopts the method of Condillac. This\nwas perceived by his most remarkable hearer. Carlyle went to Edinburgh\nat the end of 1809. Brown, 'an eloquent, acute little gentleman, full\nof enthusiasm about simple suggestions, relative, etc.,' was 'utterly\nunprofitable' to him, disspiriting 'as the autumn winds among withered\nleaves.'[504] In _Signs of the Times_ (1829) Carlyle gave his view of\nthe Scottish philosophy generally. They had, he says, started from the\n'mechanical' premises suggested by Hume. 'They let loose instinct as\nan indiscriminatory bandog to guard them against (his) conclusions':\n'they tugged lustily at the logical chain by which Hume was so coldly\ntowing them and the world into bottomless abysses of Atheism and\nFatalism. But the chain somehow snapped between them, and the issue\nhas been that nobody now cares about either--any more than about\nHartley's, Darwin's, or Priestley's contemporaneous doings in\nEngland.'[505] The judgment goes to the root of the matter. The method\nof Reid inevitably led to this result. Consider the philosophy as\nbased upon, if not identical with, an inductive science of psychology,\nand the end is clear. You may study and analyse the phenomena as\ncarefully as you please; and may, as the Scottish professors did,\nproduce, if not a scientific psychology, yet a mass of acute\nprolegomena to a science. But the analysis can only reveal the actual\ncombinations, chemical or mechanical, of thought. The ultimate\nprinciples which the teachers profess to discover are simply\nprovisional; products not yet analysed, but not therefore incapable of\nanalysis. It was very desirable to point them out: an insistence upon\nthe insufficiency of Hume's or Condillac's theories was a most\nvaluable service; but it was valuable precisely because every\nindication of such an unresolved element was a challenge to the next\ncomer to resolve it by closer analysis. And thus, in fact, the\nintuitions, which had played so great a part with Reid, come in\nBrown's hands to be so clearly limited to the materials given by\nsensation or experience that any show of 'philosophy,' meaning an\nindependent theory of the universe, was an illusory combination of\nfine phrases.[506]\n\n\nII. JAMES MILL'S 'ANALYSIS'\n\nJames Mill's _Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind_ is on the\none hand an exposition of the principles implied in Bentham's\nwritings, and, on the other hand, a statement of the position from\nwhich the younger Mill started. J. S. Mill discussed the book with his\nfather during its composition, and in 1869 he published a new edition,\nwith elaborate notes by himself, George Grote, Professor Bain, and\nAndrew Findlater.[507] The commentary is of great importance in\ndefining the relation between the two successors to the throne of\nBentham.\n\nMill's _Analysis_, though not widely read, made a deep impression upon\nMill's own disciples. It is terse, trenchant, and uncompromising. It\nreminds us in point of style of the French writers, with whom he\nsympathised, rather than of the English predecessors, to whom much of\nthe substance was owing. The discursive rhetoric of Brown or Stewart\nis replaced by good, hard, sinewy logic. The writer is plainly in\nearnest. If over confident, he has no petty vanity, and at least\nbelieves every word that he says. Certain limitations are at once\nobvious. Mill, as a publicist, a historian, and a busy official, had\nnot had much time to spare for purely philosophic reading. He was not\na professor in want of a system, but an energetic man of business,\nwishing to strike at the root of the superstitions to which his\npolitical opponents appealed for support. He had heard of Kant, and\nseen what 'the poor man would be at.' Later German systems, had he\nheard of them, would have been summarily rejected by him as so much\ntranscendental moonshine. The problem of philosophy was, he held, a\nvery simple one, if attacked in a straightforward, scientific method.\n\nMill, like his Scottish rivals, applies 'Baconian' principles. The\ninductive method, which had already been so fruitful in the physical\nsciences, will be equally effective in philosophy, and ever since\nLocke, philosophy had meant psychology. The 'philosophy of the mind'\nand the philosophy of the body may be treated as co-ordinate and\ninvestigated by similar methods. In the physical sciences we come\nultimately to the laws of movement of their constituent atoms. In the\nmoral sciences we come in the same way to the study of 'ideas.' The\nquestions, How do ideas originate? and how are they combined so as to\nform the actual state of consciousness? are therefore the general\nproblems to be solved. Hume had definitely proposed the problem.\nHartley had worked out the theory of association of ideas which Hume\nhad already compared[508] to the universal principle of gravitation in\nthe physical world; and had endeavoured to show how this might be\nconnected with physiological principles. Hartley's followers had been\ncontent to dwell upon the power of association. Abraham Tucker,\nPriestley, Erasmus Darwin, and Belsham represented this tendency, and\nwere the normal antagonists of Reid and Stewart. In France the\n'ideologists' mainly followed Condillac, and apparently knew nothing\nof Hartley. Mill, as his son testifies, had been profoundly influenced\nby Hartley's treatise--the 'really master-production,' as he esteemed\nit, 'in the philosophy of mind.'[509] Hartley's work, as the younger\nMill thought, and the elder apparently agreed, was very superior to\nthe 'merely verbal generalisation of Condillac.' James Mill, however,\nadmired Condillac and his successors. In his article upon education,\nMill traces the association theory to Hobbes, Locke, and Hume, the\nlast of whom, he says, was succeeded by the two 'more sober-minded'\nphilosophers, Condillac and Hartley; while he especially praises\nErasmus Darwin, Helvetius, and Cabanis. Mill, therefore, may be\nregarded as an independent ally of the ideologists whose influence\nupon Brown has been already noticed. Mill had not read Brown's\n_Lectures_ when he began his _Analysis_, and after reading them\nthought Brown 'but poorly read in the doctrine of association.'[510]\nHe had, however, read the essay upon causation, which he rather oddly\ndescribes as 'one of the most valuable contributions to science for\nwhich we are indebted to the last generation.'[511] He accepted\nBrown's view _minus_ the 'intuition.'\n\nThe pith of Mill's book is thus determined. His aim is to give a\ncomplete analysis of mental phenomena, and therefore to resolve those\nphenomena into their primitive constituent atoms. Here we have at once\na tacit assumption which governs his method. Philosophy, speaking\nroughly, is by some people supposed to start from truths, and thus to\nbe in some way an evolution of logic. According to Mill it must start\nfrom facts, and therefore from something not given by logic. To state\nclearly, indeed, the relation between truth and fact may suggest very\nintricate problems. Mill, at any rate, must find a basis in fact, and\nfor him the ultimate facts must be feelings. The reality at least of a\nfeeling is undeniable. The _Penser c'est sentir_, or the doctrine that\nall 'ideas' are transformed sensations is his starting-point. The word\n'feeling,' according to him, includes every 'phenomenon of the mind.'\n'Think,' he says elsewhere,[512] does not include all our experience,\nbut 'there is nothing to which we could not extend the term \"I feel.\"'\nHe proceeds to infer that our experience is either a knowledge of the\nfeelings separately, or 'a knowledge of the order in which they follow\neach other; and this is all.' We may add that the knowledge is the\nfeeling. Reid, Kant, and the Germans have indeed tried to show that\nthere are feelings not derived from the sensations, but this, as\nHartley and Condillac have shown, is a mistake. This is his first\nprinciple in a nutshell, and must give a clue to the various\napplications.\n\nThe next step is familiar. Hume had distinguished impressions and\nideas. 'Ideas' are copies of previous 'impressions.' It is for\npsychology to say what are the laws by which they are related to their\noriginals. The ultimate origin cannot be explained by psychology\nalone. Impressions are caused by the outward world acting in some way\nupon the mind; and the psychologist can only classify the various\nmodes in which they present themselves. Mill therefore begins by the\nusual account of the five senses, through which comes all knowledge of\nthe external world. He adds to Reid's list muscular sensations, and\nthose derived from the internal organs, to which last Cabanis in\nparticular had called attention. So far he is following the steps of\nhis predecessors. He is, he says, simply asserting an 'indisputable'\nfact.[513] We have sensations and we have ideas, which are 'copies of\nsensations.' We may then consider how far these facts will enable us\nto explain the whole series of mental phenomena. 'Ideation,' which he\nsuggests as a new word--the process by which a continuous series of\nthoughts goes on in our minds--is the general phenomenon to be\nconsidered. Without, as yet, pronouncing that sensations and copies of\nsensations will turn out to form the whole contents of our\nconsciousness, he tries to show for what part of those contents they\nwill account.\n\nHere we come to the doctrine which for him and his school gave the\nkey to all psychological problems. It was James Mill's real merit,\naccording to his son, that he carried the principle of association of\nideas further than it had been carried by Hartley or other\npredecessors.[514] The importance of the doctrine, indeed, is implied\nin the very statement of the problem. If it be true, or so far as it\nis true, that our consciousness reveals to us simply a series of\n'sensations' and 'ideas,' the question must be how they are combined.\n'Thought succeeds thought, idea follows idea incessantly,'[515] says\nMill; and this phrase assumes 'thoughts' and 'ideas' to be separable\natoms. How, then, do they come to coalesce into an apparently\ncontinuous stream? The mind is a stream of 'ideas.' If the stream is\ncomposed of drops, we must, of course, consider the drops as composing\nthe stream. The question is, What laws can we assign which will\ndetermine the process of composition? The phrase 'association'\nadmittedly expresses some general and very familiar truths.\nInnumerable connections may be established when there is no assignable\nground of connection in the ideas themselves other than the fact of a\nprevious contact. One idea not only calls up the other, but in some\nway generates a belief in an independent connection. We hear thunder,\nfor example, and think of lightning. The two ideas are entirely\ndistinct and separate, for they are due to different senses. Yet we\nnot only think of lightning when we hear thunder, but we have no doubt\nthat there is a causal connection. We believe in this connection,\nagain, though no further explanation can be given of the fact.\nThunder and lightning have occurred together, and we infer that they\nwill, and even must, occur together. When we examine our whole\nstructure of belief, we find such 'arbitrary' associations pervade it\nin every direction. Language itself is learned simply by association.\nThere is no connection whatever between the sound of the word 'man'\nand the 'ideas' which the word excites, beyond the fact that the sound\nhas been previously heard when the ideas were excited. Here, then, is\na phenomenon to be explained or generalised. We have in countless\ncases a certain connection established for which no further reason can\nbe assigned than the fact of its previous occurrence. On such a\nground, we believe that fire burns, that bread is wholesome, that\nstones fall; and but for such beliefs could know nothing of the\noutside world. 'Contingent' truth, therefore, or truth derived from\nmere contact, pervades, if it does not constitute, the whole fabric of\nour whole knowledge. To prove that all our knowledge is derived from\nexperience is, according to Mill, to prove that in some sense or other\nassociation of ideas lies at the base of all intellectual processes.\nWhen Locke introduced a chapter upon 'Association of Ideas' into the\nfourth edition of his essay, he treated it as the exceptional case.\nSome ideas had a connection traceable by reason; others were only\nconnected by 'chance and custom.' Association does not explain\nreasoning, only the deviations from reasoning. But with Hume and\nHartley the relation is inverted. The principle, instead of being an\nexceptional case, is simply the universal rule from which logical\nconnection may be deduced as a special case.\n\nThe facts upon which Mill relied, and the account of them which he\ngave, require notice and embodiment in any sound psychology. In some\nshape or other they form the starting-point of all later systems.\nMill's vigorous application of his principle, worked out with\nimperfect appreciation and with many oversights, had therefrom, at\nleast, the merit of preparing the ground for a more scientific method.\nIn any case, however, his conclusions, so far as sound, must be placed\nin a different framework of theory. It becomes necessary to dwell\nchiefly upon the curious defects of his theory, if taken as he wished\nit to be taken, for an ultimate scientific statement. The fact that\nthere is a synthesis and an analysis is expressed by 'association.'\nBut what more can we say? What are the 'laws' of association? Unless\nsome rule can be given, we shall get nothing that can be called a\ntheory. One idea is not suggested by the other through any logical\nprocess. They are still 'conjoined' but not 'connected.' The\nconnection, therefore, must be given by something different from the\nideas themselves. Now the order of the original 'sensations' depends\nupon the 'objects of nature,' and is therefore left to 'physical\nphilosophy.'[516] They occur, however, either in 'synchronous' or in\n'successive' order. Then 'ideas' spring up in the order of\n'sensations,' and this is the 'general law of association of\nideas.'[517] The synchronous sensations produce synchronous ideas and\nthe successive sensations successive ideas. Finally, the strength of\nthe association between the ideas depends upon 'the vividness of the\nassociated feelings, and the frequency of the association.'[518] Hume\nhad said that association depended upon three principles, 'contiguity\nin time and place,' 'causation,' and 'resemblance.' Contiguity in time\ncorresponds to the successive, and contiguity in place to the\nsynchronous, order. Causation, as Brown had finally proved,[519] means\nsimply antecedence and consequence. 'Resemblance' remains and is, as\nMill afterwards says,[520] a most important principle; but in an\nunlucky moment he is half inclined to reduce even 'resemblance' to\n'contiguity.'[521] Resemblance is, he even suggests, merely 'a case of\nfrequency,' because we generally see like things together. When we see\none tree or sheep, we generally see several trees or sheep. J. S. Mill\nmildly remarks upon this quaint suggestion as the 'least successful\nsimplification' in the book. He argues the point gravely. Sheep, it is\nclear, are not seen to be like because they often compose a flock, but\nare considered to be a flock because they are seen to be like. To do\nJames Mill justice, he drops the argument as soon as he has struck it\nout. It is only worth notice as showing his aim. 'Likeness' seems to\nimply a relation dependent on the ideas themselves; not purely\nexternal and arbitrary. If we could get rid of likeness, all\nassociation would ultimately be 'contiguity.' 'The fundamental law of\nassociation,' as he says elsewhere,[522] 'is that when two things have\nbeen frequently found together, we never perceive or think of the one\nwithout thinking of the other.' The two ideas are associated as two\nballs are associated when they are in the same box. So far as they are\nthemselves concerned, they might be separated without any alteration\nin their own properties. What, then, corresponds to the 'box'?\nAssociation depends upon relations of time and space. Things are\nassociated by occurring in succession or together; the red colour of a\nrose is in the same place with the shape of the leaf; the scent is\nperceived at the same time with the colour. The thunder follows the\nlightning. What, then, he might ask, are 'time' and 'space'? Are they\n'ideas' or 'sensations' or qualities of the objects? or, in any case,\nas supplying the ultimate principle of association, do they not\nrequire investigation? Before coming to that problem, however, we have\nto settle other knotty points. We must clear away illusions which seem\nto introduce something more than association. Elements of thought not\nat first sight expressible simply in terms of sensations and ideas\nmust be analysed to show that they are only disguises for different\ncombinations of the facts. Reasoning, according to most logicians,\nsupposes, first, concepts, and therefore some process of\nclassification of the objects of thought; and, secondly, some process\nof combining these concepts to bring out hitherto unknown truths.\nWhat, then, is the meaning of the general or abstract symbols employed\nin the process? Mill's provision of raw materials consists so far of\nsensations and ideas, which are worked up so as to form 'clusters'\n(the word is taken from Hartley) and 'trains.' This corresponds to\nsynchronous and successive associations. How does the logical\nterminology express these 'clusters' and 'trains'? Mill answers by a\ntheory of 'naming.' Language fulfils two purposes; it is required in\norder to make our ideas known to others; and in order to fix our own\nideas. Ideas are fluctuating, transitory, and 'come into the mind\nunbidden.' We must catch and make a note of these shifting crowds of\nimpalpable entities. We therefore put marks upon the simple\nsensations or upon the 'clusters.' We ticket them as a tradesman\ntickets bundles of goods in his warehouse, and can refer to them for\nour own purposes or those of others. As the number of objects to be\nmarked is enormous, as there are countless ideas and clusters and\nclusters of clusters of endless variety to be arranged in various\nways, one main object of naming is economy. A single word has to be\nused to mark a great number of individuals. This will account for such\ngeneral names as are represented by noun-substantives: man, horse,\ndog, and so forth. Mill then proceeds, with the help of Horne Tooke,\nto explain the other grammatical forms. An adjective is another kind\nof noun marking a cross division. Verbs, again, are adjectives marking\nother sets of facts, and enabling us to get rid of the necessity of\nusing a new mark for every individual or conceivable combination into\nclusters. J. S. Mill remarks that this omits the special function of\nverbs--their 'employment in predication.'[523] James Mill, however,\nhas his own view of 'predication.' 'Man' is a mark of John, Peter,\nThomas, and the rest. When I say 'John is a man,' I mean that 'man is\nanother mark to that idea of which John is a mark.'[524] I am then\nable to make a statement which will apply to all the individuals, and\nsave the trouble of repeating the assertion about each. 'Predication,'\ntherefore, is simply a substitution of one name for another. So, for\nexample, arithmetic is simply naming. What I call two and two, I also\ncall four. The series of thoughts in this case is merely 'a series of\nnames applicable to the same thing and meaning the same thing.'[525]\nThis doctrine, as J. S. Mill remarks, is derived from Hobbes, whom\nLeibniz in consequence called _plus quam nominalis_.[526] My belief\nthat two and two make four explains why I give the same name to\ncertain numbers; but the giving the name does not explain the belief.\nMeanwhile, if a class name be simply the mark which is put upon a\nbundle of things, we have got rid of a puzzle. Mill triumphs over the\nunfortunate realists who held that a class meant a mysterious entity,\nexisting somewhere apart from all the individuals in which it is\nembodied. There is really nothing mysterious; a name is first the mark\nof an individual, the individual corresponding to a 'cluster' or a set\nof 'simple ideas, concreted into a complex idea.'[527] Then the name\nand the complex idea are associated reciprocally; each 'calls up' the\nother. The complex idea is 'associated' with other resembling ideas.\nThe name becomes a talisman calling up the ideas of an indefinite\nnumber of resembling individuals, and the name applied to one\nin the first instance becomes a mark which calls up all, or, as\nhe says, is the 'name of the whole combination.' Classification,\ntherefore, 'is merely a process of naming, and is all resolvable into\nassociation.'[528] The peculiarity of this theory, as his commentators\nagain remark, is that it expressly omits any reference to abstraction.\nThe class simply means the aggregate of resembling individuals without\nany selection of the common attributes which are, in J. S. Mill's\nphrase, 'connoted' by the class-name. Abstraction, as James Mill\nexplains, is a subsidiary process, corresponding to the 'formation of\n_sub-species_.'[529]\n\nMill has now shown how the various forms of language correspond to\nideas, formed into clusters of various orders by the principle of\nassociation. The next step will naturally be to show how these\nclusters are connected in the process of reasoning. Here the\ndifficulty about predication recurs. J. S. Mill[530] remarks that his\nfather's theory of predication consistently omits 'the element\nBelief.' When I say, 'John is a man,' I make an affirmation or assert\na belief. I do not simply mean to call up in the mind of my hearer a\ncertain 'cluster' or two coincident clusters of ideas, but to convey\nknowledge of truths. The omission of reference to belief is certainly\nno trifle. Mill has classified the various ideas and combinations of\nideas which are used in judgment, but the process of judgment itself\nseems to have slipped out of account. He may have given us, or be able\nto give us, a reasoned catalogue of the contents of our minds, but has\nnot explained how the mind itself acts. It is a mere passive recipient\nof ideas, or rather itself a cluster of ideas cohering in various\nways, without energy of its own. One idea, as he tells us, calls up\nanother 'by its own associating power.'[531] Ideas are things which\nsomehow stick together and revive each other, without reference to the\nmind in which they exist or which they compose. This explains his\nfrequent insistence upon one assertion. As we approach the question of\njudgment he finds it essential. 'Having a sensation and having a\nfeeling,' he says, 'are not two things.' To 'feel an idea and be\nconscious of that feeling are not two things; the feeling and the\nconsciousness are but two names for the same thing.'[532] So, again,\n'to have a sensation and to believe that we have it, are not\ndistinguishable things.'[533] Locke's reflection thus becomes nothing\nbut simple consciousness, and having a feeling is the same as\nattending to it.[534] The point is essential. It amounts to saying\nthat we can speak of a thought as though it were simply a thing.\n\nThus belief not only depends upon, but actually _is_ association. 'It\nis not easy,' he says, 'to treat of memory, belief, and judgment\nseparately.'[535] As J. S. Mill naturally asks, 'How is it possible to\ntreat of belief without including in it memory and judgment?' Memory\nis a case of belief, and judgment an 'act of belief.'[536] To James\nMill, however, it appears that as these different functions all\ninvolve association, they may be resolved into varying applications of\nthat universal power. Memory involves 'an idea of my present self' and\nan 'idea of my past self,' and to remember is to 'run over the\nintervening states of consciousness called up by association.'[537]\nBelief involves association at every step. The belief in external\nobjects is, as 'all men admit' ... 'wholly resolvable into\nassociation.'[538] 'That a cause means and can mean nothing to the\nhuman mind but constant antecedence' (and therefore 'inseparable\nassociation,' as he thinks) 'is no longer a point in dispute.'[539]\nAssociation, it is true, may produce wrong as well as right beliefs;\nright beliefs when 'in conformity with the connections of\nthings,'[540] and wrong beliefs when not in conformity. In both cases\nthe belief is produced by 'custom,' though, happily, the right custom\nis by far the commonest. The 'strength of the association follows the\nfrequency.' The crow flies east as well as west; but the stone always\nfalls downwards.[541] Hence I form an 'inseparable association'\ncorresponding to a belief in gravitation, but have no particular\nbelief about the direction of a crow's flight.\n\nThis gives the doctrine of 'indissoluble association'--the pivot of\nthe whole scheme--the doctrine, says J. S. Mill, which, 'if it can be\nproved, is the greatest of all the triumphs of the Association\nPhilosophy.'[542] The younger Mill always insisted upon the vast\nimportance of the principle; but he here admits a difficulty. In a\nlong note[543] upon James Mill's chapter on 'Belief,' conspicuous for\nhis usual candour, he confesses the inadequacy of his father's view.\nThe comment indicates the point of divergence and yet shows curiously\nthe ground common to both. James Mill's theory states facts in some\nsense undeniable. Our 'ideas' cohere and combine to form a tissue: an\nimagery or series of pictures which form the content and are somehow\nthe ground of our beliefs. The process of formation clearly involves\n'association.' The scent of the rose is associated with the colour:\nboth with the visible form and so forth. But is this process the same\nthing as believing, or have we to explain the belief by some mental\nactivity different from, however closely connected with, the\nimagination, or in his phrase the 'ideation'? Here J. S. Mill finds a\ndifficulty. The statement, 'I believe that thunder will follow\nlightning,' is something more than the statement, 'the sight suggests\nor calls up the sound.' The mental picture considered by itself may be\ndescribed as a fact, without considering what belief, or whether any\nbelief, is implied. J. S. Mill therefore makes a distinction intended\nto clear up his father's confusion. There is a difference, he says,\nbetween remembering 'a real fact' and remembering a 'thought.'[544] He\nillustrates this by the difference between the idea of Lafayette and\nthe idea of Falstaff. Lafayette was real, and had been seen by the\nrememberer. Falstaff is a figment who, having never existed, can never\nhave been seen. Yet the idea of Falstaff may be quite as vivid as the\nidea of Lafayette. What, then, is the difference between the two\nstates of mind? One, says J. S. Mill, is a belief about 'real facts';\nthe other about 'thoughts.' This, he observes, corresponds to James\nMill's distinction between a 'sensation' and an 'idea,'[545] a\ndifference which he had admitted to be 'primordial.' Then, says J. S.\nMill, we may as well admit that there is an 'element' in the\nremembrance of a real fact not implied in the remembrance of a thought\nand not dependent on any difference in the 'ideas' themselves. It,\ntoo, may be taken as 'primordial,' or incapable of further analysis.\nThis doctrine becomes important in some of Mill's logical\nspeculations,[546] and is connected with his whole theory of belief in\nan external world. It has an uncomfortable likeness to Reid's\n'common-sense' view, and even to the hated 'intuitionism'; and Mill\ndeserves the more credit for his candour.\n\nMeanwhile it seems clear that the criticism implies an important\nconfusion. The line of distinction is drawn in the wrong place. So\nfar as the simple 'imagination' is concerned, there may be no question\nof belief or disbelief. The picture of Falstaff or of Lafayette, a\nhorse or a centaur, arises equally, and is put together, let us\nsuppose, by simple association. But as soon as I think about either I\nbelieve or disbelieve, and equally whether I judge the object to be a\nthought or to be a 'real fact,' whether I say that I could have seen\nLafayette, or that I could not have seen Falstaff. It is not a\nquestion between reality or unreality, but between two classes of\nreality. A dream is a real dream, just as a man is a real man. The\nquestion is simply where or how it exists, not whether it exists. The\npicture is, in one case, put together by my mind; in the other, due to\na stimulus from without; but it exists in both cases; and belief is\nequally present whether I put it in one class of reality or the other:\nas we form a judgment equally when we pronounce a man to be lying, and\nwhen we pronounce him to be speaking the truth. J. S. Mill seems to\nsuppose that association can explain the imagination of a centaur or a\nFalstaff, but cannot explain the belief in a horse or Lafayette. The\nimagination or 'ideation,' he should have said, accounts in both cases\nfor the mere contents of the thought; but in neither case can it by\nitself explain the judgment as to 'reality.' That is to say, James\nMill may have described accurately a part of the process by which the\nmental picture is constructed, but has omitted to explain the action\nof the mind itself. Belief, we may agree, is a 'primordial' or\nultimate faculty; but we must not interpret it as belief in a 'real\nfact' as distinguished from belief in 'a thought': that is a secondary\nand incidental distinction.\n\nThis confusion, as I have said, apparently prevents J. S. Mill from\nseeing how deeply his very frank admissions cut into the very\nstructure of his father's system. He has, as I have said, remarked\nupon the singular absence of any reference to 'belief,' 'abstraction,'\nand so forth; but he scarcely observes how much is implied by the\nomission. His criticism should have gone further. James Mill has not\nonly omitted a faculty which enables us to distinguish between\n'thoughts' and 'things,' images of fancy and pictures of reality, but\nalso the faculty which is equally present whenever we properly think\ninstead of simply seeing images passively; and equally whether we\nrefer an image to fact or fancy. His 'analysis of the mind' seems to\nget rid of the mind itself.\n\nThe omission becomes important at the next step. 'Under the modest\ntitle of an explanation of the meaning of several names,' says his\nson, James Mill discusses 'some of the deepest and most intricate\nquestions in all metaphysics.' A treatise on chemistry might almost as\nwell be 'described as an explanation of the names, air, water, potass,\nsulphuric acid, and so forth.'[547] Why does the chapter come in this\nplace and in this peculiar form? Probably because James Mill was\npartly conscious of the inadequacy of his previous chapters. The\nproblems which he has been considering could not be adequately treated\nby regarding ideas as 'things' bound together by association. What,\nafter all, is a proposition? What is meant by 'true' or 'false,' as\ndistinguished from real and unreal? If an association actually _is_ a\ntruth, what is the difference between right and wrong associations?\nBoth are facts, and the very words 'right' and 'wrong,' that is, true\nand false, apply not to facts but to propositions.[548] The judgment\nis tested in some way by correspondence to the 'order of Nature,' or\nof our sensations and ideas. What precisely is meant by this order? So\nfar as we have gone, it seems as if ideas might be combined in any\norder whatever, and the most various beliefs generated in different\nminds. Perhaps, however, the principle of association itself may\nreveal something as to the possible modes of coalescence. Mill makes\ncontiguity an ultimate ground of association; and contiguity implies\nthat things have certain relations expressible in terms of space and\ntime and so forth. These primitive relations now come up for\nconsideration, and should enable us to say more precisely what kind of\norder is possible. In fact, Mill now endeavours to analyse the\nmeanings of such words as relation in general, time, space, number,\nlikeness, personal identity and others. The effect of his analysis is\nthat the principles, whatever they may be, which might be supposed to\nunderlie association appear to be products of association. He begins\nby asking what is the meaning of 'relative terms.' Their peculiarity\nis that they 'always exist in pairs,' such as 'father and son,' 'high\nand low,' 'right and left.' 'If it is asked, Why do we give names in\npairs? the general answer immediately suggests itself; it is because\nthe things named present themselves in pairs, that is, are joined by\nassociation.'[549] J. S. Mill thinks that no part of the _Analysis_\nis more valuable than the 'simple explanation' which follows. There is\nno 'mystical bond called a relation' between two things, but 'a very\nsimple peculiarity in the concrete fact' marked by the names. In\n'ordinary names of objects, the fact connoted by a name ... concerns\none object only'; in the case of relative names, 'the fact connoted\nconcerns two objects, and cannot be understood without thinking of\nthem both.' A 'fact concerning an object' is a curiously awkward\nexpression; but one point is clear. If the two objects concerned are\nthe same, whether considered apart or together, the 'relation' must be\nsomething more than the facts, and therefore requires to be specified.\nIf they are, in fact, one thing, or parts of a continuous process, we\nmust ask how they come to be distinguished, and what ground there is\nfor speaking of association. James Mill, by considering the problem as\na mere question of 'names,' seems to intimate that the relation is a\nmere figment. In fact, as J. S. Mill perceives, the 'explanations'\nbecome nugatory. They simply repeat the thing to be explained. He\nbegins with 'resemblance.' To feel two things to be alike is, he says,\nthe same thing as to have the two feelings. He means to say,\napparently, that when there are two 'ideas' there is not also a third\nidea of 'likeness.' That would be what Bentham called a 'fictitious\nentity.' But this cannot 'explain' the likeness of the ideas. 'Their\nbeing alike,' as his son interprets, 'is nothing but their being felt\nto be alike--which does not help us.'[550] So 'antecedence and\nconsequence' are 'explained' by saying that one of two feelings calls\nup the other; or, as the son again remarks, antecedence is explained\nby antecedence, and succession by succession. Antecedence and\nconsequence, like likeness and unlikeness, must therefore, according\nto J. S. Mill, be 'postulated as universal conditions of Nature,\ninherent in all our feelings whether of external or internal\nconsciousness.'[551] In other words, apparently, time is an ultimate\nform of thought. Time and space, generally, as James Mill thinks, are\nthe 'abstract names' respectively of successive and simultaneous\norder, which become 'indissolubly associated with the idea of every\nobject.'[552] Space, of course, is said to be a product of touch and\nmuscular sensations, and the problem as to how these varying\nsensations and these alone give rise to apparently necessary and\ninvariable beliefs is not taken into consideration. Mill is here\ndealing with the questions which Kant attempted to answer by showing\nhow the mind imposes its forms upon sense-given materials, forms them\ninto concepts, and combines the concepts into judgments and reasoning.\nMill evades the mysterious and transcendental at the cost of omitting\nreason altogether. He represents the result of accepting one horn of a\ndilemma, which presses upon philosophies of loftier pretensions. Those\nwho accept the other horn speak of a 'fact' as though it were a truth,\nand argue as though the world could be spun out of pure logic, or a\ntissue be made of relations without any things to be related. Mill,\nwith scarcely a glance at such doctrines, tries systematically to\nspeak of a truth as if it were a fact. The world for him is made up of\nideas sticking together; and nothing else exists. The relation is the\nfact; belief is the association; consciousness and reflection,\nconsidered apart, are nothing but the sensations, ideas, clusters,\nand trains. The attempt to base all truth upon experience, to bring\nphilosophy into harmony with science was, as I hold, perfectly right.\nOnly, upon these assumptions it could not be carried out. Mill had the\nmerit which is implied even by an unsuccessful attempt to hold by\nfact. He raises a number of interesting questions; and I think that it\nis more remarkable that so many of his observations have still an\ninterest for psychologists than that so much is obviously wrong. Mill,\nit may be said, took an essay upon association for a treatise upon\npsychology in general. He was writing what might be one important\nchapter in such a treatise, and supposes that he has written the\nwhole, and can deduce 'philosophy' from it, if, indeed, any philosophy\ncan be said to remain. Meanwhile, I may observe, that by pushing his\nprinciples to extremes, even his 'association' doctrine is endangered.\nHis _Analysis_ seems to destroy even the elements which are needed to\ngive the simplest laws of association. It is rather difficult to say\nwhat is meant by the 'contiguity,' 'sequence,' and 'resemblance,'\nwhich are the only conditions specified, and which he seems to explain\nnot as the conditions but as the product of association. J. S. Mill\nperceived that something was wanting which he afterwards tried to\nsupply. I will just indicate one or two points, which may show what\nproblems the father bequeathed to the son. James Mill, at one place,\ndiscusses the odd problem 'how it happens that all trains of thought\nare not the same.'[553] The more obvious question is, on his\nhypothesis, how it happens that any two people have the same beliefs,\nsince the beliefs are made of the most varying materials. If, again,\ntwo ideas when associated remain distinct, we have Hume's difficulty.\nWhatever is distinguishable, he argued, is separable. If two ideas\nsimply lie side by side, as is apparently implied by 'contiguity,' so\nthat each can be taken apart without change, why should we suppose\nthat they will never exist apart, or, indeed, that they should ever\nagain come together? The contiguity does not depend upon them, but\nupon some inscrutable collocation, of which we can only say that it\nexists now. This is the problem which greatly occupied J. S. Mill.\n\nThe 'indissoluble' or 'inseparable' association, which became the\ngrand arcanum of the school, while intended to answer some of these\ndifficulties, raises others. Mill seems to insist upon splitting a\nunit into parts in order that it may be again brought together by\nassociation. So J. S. Mill, in an admiring note, confirms his father's\nexplanation ('one of the most important thought in the whole\ntreatise') of the infinity of space.[554] We think space infinite\nbecause we always 'associate' position with extension. Surely space is\nextension; and to think of one without the other implies a\ncontradiction. We think space infinite, because we think of a space as\nonly limited by other space, and therefore indefinitely extensible.\nThere is no 'association,' simply repetition. Elsewhere we have the\nproblem, How does one association exclude another? Only, as J. S. Mill\nreplies, when one idea includes the idea of the absence of the\nothers.[555] We cannot combine the ideas of a plane and a convex\nsurface. Why? Because we have never had both sets of sensations\ntogether. The 'commencement' of one set has always been 'simultaneous\nwith the cessation of another set,' as, for instance, when we bend a\nflat sheet of paper. The difficulty seems to be that one fact cannot\nbe contradictory of another, since contradiction only applies to\nassertions. When I say that A is above B, however, I surely assert\nthat B is below A; and I cannot make both assertions about A and B at\nthe same time without a contradiction. To explain this by an\nassociation of simultaneous and successive sensations seems to be a\ncuriously roundabout way of 'explaining.' Every assertion is also a\ndenial; and, if I am entitled to say anything, I am enabled without\nany help from association to deny its contradictory. On Mill's\nshowing, the assertion and the denial of its contradiction, instead of\nbeing identical, are taken to be two beliefs accidentally associated.\nFinally, I need only make one remark upon the fundamental difficulty.\nIt is hard to conceive of mere loose 'ideas' going about in the\nuniverse at large and sticking accidentally to others. After all, the\nhuman being is in true sense also an organised whole, and his\nconstitution must be taken into account in discovering the laws of\n'ideation.' This is the point of view to which Mill, in his anxiety to\nget rid of everything that had a savour of _a priori_ knowledge about\nit, remains comparatively blind. It implies a remarkable omission.\nMill's great teacher, Hartley, had appealed to physiology in a\nnecessarily crude fashion. He had therefore an organism: a brain or a\nnervous system which could react upon the external world and modify\nand combine sensations. Mill's ideas would have more apparent\nconnection if they could be made to correspond to 'vibratiuncles' or\nphysical processes of some kind. But this part of Hartley's hypothesis\nhad been dropped: and all reality is therefore reduced to the whirl\nof vagrant and accidentally cohering ideas in brains and clusters. His\none main aim is to get rid of everything that can be called mystical\nand to trace all mental processes to 'experience,' as he understands\nexperience--to show that we are never entitled to assert that two\nideas may not be joined in any way whatever.\n\nThe general tendency of the 'Association Philosophy' is sufficiently\nclear. It may be best appreciated by comparing it to the method of the\nphysical sciences, which it was intended to rival. The physicist\nexplains the 'laws of nature' by regarding a phenomenon as due to the\nvarying arrangements of an indefinite multitude of uniform atoms. I\nneed not ask whether these atoms are to be regarded as realities, even\nthe sole realities, or, on the other hand, as a kind of logical\nscaffolding removable when the laws are ascertained. In any case, the\nassumption is necessary and most fruitful in the search for accurate\nand quantitative formulae. Mill virtually assumes that the same thing\ncan be done by breaking up the stream of consciousness into the ideas\nwhich correspond to the primitive atoms. What precisely these atoms\nmay be, how the constantly varying flow of thought can be resolved\ninto constituent fractions, is not easy to see. The physicist at least\nsupposes his atoms to have definite space relations, but there is\nnothing clearly corresponding to space in the 'ideas.' They are\ncapable of nothing but co-existence, sequence, and likeness; but the\nattempt to explain the meaning of those words ends in nothing but\nrepeating them. One result is the curious combination of the absolute\nand the indefinitely variable. We get absolute statements because the\nultimate constituents are taken to be absolutely constant. We have\nindefinite variability because they may be collocated in any\nconceivable or inconceivable way. This becomes evident when we have to\ndo with organisms of any kind: with characters or societies an\norganism varies, but varies along definite lines. But, on Mill's\nshowing, the organic relations correspond to the indefinitely\nvariable. Education is omnipotent; state constitutions can be\nmanufactured at will, and produce indefinite consequences. And yet he\ncan lay down laws of absolute validity, because he seems to be\ndeducing them from one or two formulae corresponding to the essential\nand invariable properties of the ultimate unit--whether man or ideas.\nFrom this follows, too, the tendency to speak as if human desires\ncorresponded to some definite measurable things, such as utility in\nethics, value in political economy, and self-interest in politics.\nThis point appears in the application of Mill's theories to the moral\nsciences.\n\n\nIII. JAMES MILL'S ETHICS\n\nJames Mill in his ethical doctrine follows Bentham with little\nvariation; but he shows very clearly what was the psychology which\nBentham virtually assumed. I may pass very briefly over Mill's theory\nof conduct[556] in general. The 'phenomena of thought,' he says, may\nbe divided into the 'intellectual' and the 'active' powers. Hitherto\nhe has considered 'sensations' and 'ideas' merely as existing; he will\nnow consider them as 'exciting to action.'[557] The phenomena consist\nin both cases of sensations and ideas, combined into 'clusters,' and\nformed into trains 'according to the sense laws.' We have now to\nconsider the ideas as active, and 'to demonstrate the simple laws into\nwhich the phenomena of human life, so numerous and apparently so\ndiversified, may all be easily resolved.'\n\nA desire is an 'idea' of a pleasant sensation; an 'aversion' an idea\nof painful sensation. The idea and the sensation are not two things,\nbut two names for the same thing. Desire, again, has a 'tacit\nreference to future time' when applied to a given case. We associate\nthese pains and pleasures with the causes; and in the important case\nour own actions are the causes. Thus the association produces the\nmotive, and the readiness to obey the motive is, as Bentham says, the\n'disposition.' Then, following Hartley, Mill explains the will. Bodily\nactions are muscular contractions, which are slowly co-ordinated by\nhabit--association, of course, acting at every stage of the process.\nNow, it is a plain fact that muscular contractions follow 'ideas.' It\nis easy, then, to see how the 'idea of a pleasure should excite the\nidea of the action which is the cause of it; and how, when the idea\nexists, the action should follow.'[558] An 'end' is a pleasure\ndesired, and gives the 'motive.' When we start from the motive and get\nthe pleasure the same association is called 'will.' 'Free-will' is of\ncourse nonsense. We have a full account of the human mechanism, and\ncan see that it is throughout worked by association, admitting the\nprimary fact of experience that the idea causes the muscular\ncontraction.\n\nThis, and the ethical conclusions which follow, substantially\ncoincide with Bentham's doctrine, or supply the first principles from\nwhich Bentham might be deduced. A fuller exposition of the ethics is\ngiven in the _Fragment on Mackintosh_. Mackintosh, in 1829, wrote a\nDissertation upon 'Ethical Philosophy,' for the _Encyclopaedia\nBritannica_.[559] The book stirred Mill's 'indignation against an\nevil-doer.'[560] He wrote a _Fragment on Mackintosh_, which was\nsuppressed for a time in consequence of his antagonist's death in\n1832, but published in the year of his own death, 1835.[561] According\nto Professor Bain, the book was softened in consequence of\nremonstrances from Bickersteth. It would be curious to see the\nprevious version. Professor Bain says that there are 'thousands' of\nbooks which contain 'far worse severities of language.' I confess that\nI cannot remember quite 'a thousand.' It is at least difficult to\nimagine more unmitigated expressions of contempt and aversion.\nMackintosh, says Mill, uses 'macaroni phrases,' 'tawdry talk,'\n'gabble'; he gets 'beyond drivelling' into something more like\n'raving'; he 'deluges' us with 'unspeakable nonsense.' 'Good God!'\nsums up the comment which can be made upon one sentence.[562] Sir\nJames, he declares, 'has got into an intellectual state so thoroughly\ndepraved that I doubt whether a parallel to it is possible to be\nfound.'[563] There is scarcely a mention of Mackintosh without an\ninsult. A partial explanation of Mill's wrath may be suggested by the\nchapter upon Bentham. Mackintosh there accused the Utilitarians\ngenerally of 'wantonly wounding the most respectable feelings of\nmankind'; of 'clinging to opinions because they are obnoxious'; of\ntaking themselves to be a 'chosen few,' despising the multitude, and\nretorting the dislike which their arrogance has provoked by using\nstill more exasperating language.[564] He suggested that they should\ndo more justice to 'the Romillys and the Broughams,' who had been the\nreal and judicious reformers; and he illustrated the errors of Bentham\nby especial reference to Mill's arguments upon government and\neducation. There had long been an antipathy. Mackintosh, said Mill in\n1820, 'lives but for London display; _parler et faire parler de lui_\nin certain circles is his heaven.'[565]\n\nMackintosh would have been most at home in a professorial chair. He\nwas, indeed, professor at Haileybury from 1818 to 1824, and spoken of\nas a probable successor to Brown at Edinburgh. But he could never\ndecidedly concentrate himself upon one main purpose. Habits of\nprocrastination and carelessness about money caused embarrassment\nwhich forced him to write hastily. His love of society interfered with\nstudy, and his study was spread over an impossible range of subjects.\nHis great abilities, wasted by these infirmities, were seconded by\nvery wide learning. Macaulay describes the impression which he made at\nHolland House.[566] He passed among his friends as the profound\nphilosopher; the man of universal knowledge of history; of ripe and\nmost impartial judgment in politics; the oracle to whom all men might\nappeal with confidence, though a little too apt to find out that all\nsides were in the right. When he went to India he took with him some\nof the scholastic writers and the works of Kant and Fichte, then known\nto few Englishmen. One of Macaulay's experiences at Holland House was\na vision of Mackintosh verifying a quotation from Aquinas.[567] It\nmust have been delightful. The ethical 'dissertation,' however, had to\nbe shortened by omitting all reference to German philosophy, and the\naccount of the schoolmen is cursory. It is easy to see why the suave\nand amiable Mackintosh appeared to Mill to be a 'dandy' philosopher,\nan unctuous spinner of platitudes to impose upon the frequenters of\nHolland House, and hopelessly confused in the attempt to make\ncompromises between contradictory theories. It is equally easy to see\nwhy to Mackintosh the thoroughgoing and strenuous Mill appeared to be\na one-sided fanatic, blind to the merits of all systems outside the\nnarrow limits of Benthamism, and making even philanthropy hateful. Had\nMackintosh lived to read Mill's _Fragment_, he would certainly have\nthought it a proof that the Utilitarians were as dogmatic and acrid as\nhe had ever asserted.\n\nMackintosh's position in ethics explains Mill's antagonism. Neither\nAquinas nor Kant nor Fichte influenced him. His doctrine is the\nnatural outcome of the Scottish philosophy. Hutcheson had both\ninvented Bentham's sacred formula, and taught the 'Moral Sense' theory\nwhich Bentham attacked. To study the morality from the point of view\nof 'inductive psychology' is to study the moral faculty, and to reject\nthe purely 'intellectual' system. To assign the position of the moral\nfaculty in the psychological system is to show its utility. On the\nother hand, it was the very aim of the school to avoid the sceptical\nconclusions of Hume in philosophy, and in ethics to avoid the complete\nidentification of morality with utility. There must be a distinction\nbetween the judgments, 'this is right,' and 'this is useful'; even\n'useful to men in general.' Hence, on the one hand, morality is\nimmediately dictated by a special sense or faculty, and yet its\ndictates coincide with the dictates of utility. I have spoken of this\nview as represented by Dugald Stewart; and Brown had, according to his\ncustom, moved a step further by diminishing the list of original first\nprinciples, and making 'virtue' simply equivalent to 'feelings' of\napproval and disapproval.[568] Virtue, he said, is useful; the utility\n'accompanies our moral approbation; but the perception of that utility\ndoes not constitute our moral approbation, nor is it necessarily\npresupposed by it.'[569] He compares the coincidence between virtue\nand utility to Leibniz's pre-established harmony.[570] The position is\nfamiliar. The adaptation of an organism to its conditions may be taken\neither as an explanation of its development or as a proof of a\ncreative purpose.\n\nMackintosh takes nearly the same position. Ethical inquiries, he says,\nrelate to 'two perfectly distinct subjects.' We have the problem of\nthe 'criterion' (What is the distinction between right and wrong?) and\nthe problem of the 'moral sentiments' (What are the feelings produced\nby the contemplation of right and wrong?). In treating of the\nfeelings, again, we must avoid the confusion caused in the older\nphilosophy by the reduction of 'feeling' to 'thought.'[571] Reason\nand sensation are distinct though inseparably combined; and hence, he\nargues, it is a fallacy to speak with Clarke as if reason could by\nitself be a motive. An argument to influence conduct must always be in\nthe last resort an appeal to a 'feeling.'[572] It is idle to tell a\nman that conduct is infamous unless he _feels_ infamy to be painful.\nWe have then to ask what are the feelings which prompt to morality. So\nfar as the criterion is concerned, Mackintosh fully agrees with Hume,\nwhose theory that 'general utility constitutes a general ground of\nmoral distinctions can never be impugned until some example can be\nproduced of a virtue generally pernicious or a vice generally\nbeneficial.'[573] Hume, however, overlooks the 'rightful supremacy of\nthe moral faculty over every other principle of human action.'\nMackintosh thought that his best service, as he told Macvey\nNapier,[574] had been his 'endeavour to slip in a foundation under\nButler's doctrine of the supremacy of the conscience, which he left\nbaseless.' To slip in a foundation is a very delicate operation in\nlogical as in material architecture; and the new foundation seems here\nto be in danger of inverting the edifice. The 'supremacy of\nconscience'[575] means with him that the 'moral sentiments' form a\nseparate class. They are the feelings with which we contemplate\nvoluntary actions in general, and therefore those aroused by the\ncharacter and conduct of the agent. Mackintosh thus takes an aesthetic\nview of morality. We have a 'moral taste' or perception of beauty. The\nsame qualities which make a horse beautiful make him also swift and\nsafe, but we perceive the beauty without thinking of the utility, or\nrather when we do not think of it. So we admire a hero or martyr for\nthe beauty of his character without reference to his services to\nus.[576] This moral taste, though not identical with the conscience,\nbecomes 'absorbed into it.' The conscience differs from the 'moral\ntaste' because it acts upon the will. But its supremacy seems to be\nthis quality which it shares with or derives from the taste--its\nimmediate and spontaneous operation. It is, he seems to mean, a direct\nperception of beauty in character applied to the regulation of\nconduct. Virtue corresponds to an instinctive and so far ultimate\nappreciation of beauty of character. Mackintosh insists upon this\nintrinsic charm of virtue in the language which struck Mill as simply\nfoppish affectation. The pleasure of 'benevolence' itself, says\nMackintosh, is infinitely superior to the pleasures to which it may\nlead. Could it become 'lasting and intense,' it would convert the\nheart into a heaven.[577] To love virtue, you must love it 'for its\nown sake.'[578] The delights of being virtuous (as he interprets the\nphrase) are greater than any delight from the consequences of virtue.\nAnd he holds up as a model Fletcher of Saltoun, who would 'lose his\nlife to serve his country, but would not do a base thing to save\nit.'[579]\n\nHow, then, is this view to be reconciled with the unreserved admission\nof 'utility' as the 'criterion' of right and wrong? One answer is that\nMackintosh fully accepts Hartley's doctrine of association. He even\ncriticises previous philosophers for not pushing it far enough. He\nsays that association, instead of merely combining a 'thought' and a\n'feeling,' 'forms them into a new compound, in which the properties of\nthe component parts are no longer discoverable, and which may itself\nbecome a substantive principle of human virtue.'[580] The question of\norigin, therefore, is different from the question of nature. He\nfollows Hartley in tracing the development of various desires, and in\nshowing how the 'secondary desires' are gradually formed from the\nprimitive by transference to different objects.[581] We must start\nfrom feelings which lie beneath any intellectual process, and thus the\njudgment of utility is from the first secondary. We arrive at the\nhigher feelings which are 'as independent as if they were\nunderived,'[582] and yet, as happiness has been involved at every\nstage as an end of each desire, it is no wonder that the ultimate\nresult should be to make the general happiness the end. The\ncoincidence, then, of the criterion with the end of the moral\nsentiments is 'not arbitrary,' but arises necessarily from 'the laws\nof human nature and the circumstances in which mankind are\nplaced.'[583] Hence we reach the doctrine which 'has escaped Hartley\nas well as every other philosopher.'[584] That doctrine is that the\nmoral faculty is one; it is compound, indeed, in its origin; but\nbecomes an independent unit, which can no longer be resolved even in\nthought into its constituent elements.\n\nThe doctrine approximates, it would seem, to Mill's; but was all the\nmore unpalatable to him on that account. The agreement implies\nplagiarism, and the difference hopeless stupidity. To Mill Bentham was\nthe legitimate development of Hartley, while to Mackintosh Bentham\nwas the plausible perverter of Hartley. Mill regarded Mackintosh as a\nsophist, whose aim was to mislead honest Utilitarians into the paths\nof orthodoxy, and who also ignored the merits of Mill himself. 'It was\nMr. Mill,' he says, 'who first made known the great importance of the\nprinciple of the indissoluble association';[585] 'Mr. Mill' who had\ntaken up Hartley's speculations and 'prosecuted the inquiry to its\nend';[586] 'Mr. Mill' who explained affections and motives and\ndispositions;[587] and 'Mr. Mill' who had cleared up mistakes about\nclassification which 'had done more to perpetuate darkness on the\nsubject of mind than any other cause, perhaps than all other causes\ntaken together.'[588] Sir James blundered because he had not read\nMill's book, as he pretended to have done. Mill does not say all this\nfrom vanity; he is simply stating an obvious matter of fact.\n\nMill's polemic against the Moral Sense theory, even against a moral\nsense produced by association, reveals the really critical points of\nthe true Utilitarian doctrine. Mill would cut down the moral sense\nroot and branch. The 'moral sense' means a 'particular faculty'\nnecessary to discern right and wrong. But no particular faculty is\nnecessary to discern 'utility.'[589] Hence the distinction between the\n'criterion' and the 'moral sentiments' is absurd. The utility is not\nthe 'criterion' of the morality but itself constitutes the morality.\nTo say that conduct is right, according to the Utilitarians, is the\nsame thing as to say that it produces happiness. If the moral sense\norders conduct opposed to the criterion, it is so far bad. If it\nnever orders such conduct, it is superfluous. Happiness, as with\nBentham, is a definite thing--a currency of solid bullion; and\n'virtue' means nothing except as calculated in this currency. Mill,\nagain, like Bentham, regards the 'utility' principle as giving the\nsole 'objective' test. The complaint that it sanctions 'expediency' is\na simple fallacy.\n\nIf you do not love virtue 'for its own sake,' said Mackintosh, you\nwill break a general law wherever the law produces a balance of\npainful consequences. Mill replies with great vigour.[590] All general\nrules, it is true, imply exceptions, but only when they conflict with\nthe supreme rule. 'There is no exception to a rule of morality,' says\nMill, 'but what is made by a rule of morality.'[591] There are\nnumerous cases in which the particular laws conflict; and one law must\nthen be broken. The question which to break must then be decided by\nthe same unequivocal test, 'utility.' If a rule for increasing utility\ndiminishes utility in a given case, it must be broken in that case.\nMackintosh's Fletcher of Saltoun illustrates the point.[592] What is\nthe 'base' thing which Fletcher would not do to save his country?\nWould he not be the basest of men if he did not save his country at\nany cost? To destroy half a population and reduce the other half to\nmisery has been thought a sacrifice not too great for such an end.\nWould not Mackintosh himself allow Fletcher, when intrusted with an\nimportant fortress, to sacrifice the lives and properties of innocent\npeople in defence of his position?[593] What, then, does the love of\nvirtue 'for its own sake' come to? If you refuse to save your country,\nbecause you think the means base, your morality is mischievous, that\nis, immoral. If, on the other hand, you admit that the means cease to\nbe base, the supposed supremacy is an empty brag. The doctrine is then\nverbally maintained, but interpreted so as to conform to the criterion\nof utility. In other words, Mackintosh cannot reconcile his admission\nof utility as a 'criterion' with his support of a moral sense entitled\nto override the criterion. Mackintosh's moral sense is meant to\ndistinguish the moral motive from 'expediency.' To this, again, Mill\nhas a very forcible answer. A man is blameable who makes exceptions to\nlaws in his own private interest. But if a man consistently and\ninvariably acted for the 'greatest happiness of the greatest number,'\nand paid no more attention to his own happiness than to other\npeople's, he would certainly have a very lofty and inflexible test,\nassuming--as we must allow Mill to assume--that we can calculate the\neffect of conduct upon happiness at large. Again, upon the assumption\nthat 'moral' is equivalent to 'felicific,' we get a general rule\nentitled to override any individual tastes or fancies, such as Mill\nsupposes to be meant by the 'Moral Sense.' The rule is derived from\nthe interests of all, and gives an ultimate 'objective criterion.' J.\nS. Mill, describing his father's system, observes that the teaching of\nsuch a man was not likely to err on 'the side of laxity or\nindulgence.'[594] It certainly did not. And, in fact, his criterion,\nhowever obtained, had in his eyes the certainty of a scientific law.\nThis or that is right as surely as this or that food is wholesome. My\ntaste has nothing to do with it. And, moreover, the criterion\ncertainly gives a moral ground. If I know that any conduct will\nproduce more happiness than misery that is a moral reason for adopting\nit. A 'moral sense' which should be radically inconsistent with that\ncriterion, which should order me to inflict suffering as suffering, or\nwithout some ulterior reason, would be certainly at fault. Mackintosh\nindeed would have agreed to this, though, if Mill was right, at the\nexpense of consistency.\n\nMill, however, deduces from his criterion doctrines which involve a\nremarkable paradox. The mode in which he is led to them is\ncharacteristic of the whole method. Mill, like Bentham, puts morality\nupon the same plane with law. Conduct is influenced either by the\n'community in its conjunct capacity'--that is, by law; or by\n'individuals in their individual capacity'--that is, by morality.[595]\nThe sanction of one, we may infer, is force; of the other, approval\nand disapproval. With this we must take another Benthamite doctrine,\nof which I have already spoken.[596] 'Mr. Bentham demonstrated,' says\nMill, 'that the morality of an act does not depend upon the motive,'\nand, further, that it 'is altogether dependent on the intention.'[597]\nUpon this he constantly insists. Mackintosh's view that virtue depends\nupon motive will be 'scorned by every man who has any knowledge of the\nphilosophy of the human mind.... The virtue does not depend upon the\nmotive. There is no bad motive. Every motive is the desire of good; to\nthe agent himself or to some one else.'[598] He gives an analysis of\naction to put the point beyond doubt. Action supposes a 'motive,' a\n'volition,' and an 'external act' or muscular contraction. So far\nthere is nothing moral. But then an act has consequences, good or bad,\nto human beings, which constitute its utility. To make it moral, the\nagent must anticipate 'beneficial consequences,' and must have no\nreason to anticipate a balance of evil consequences. Intention means\nthe calculation of consequences, and without that calculation there\ncan be no morality.[599] Hence the morality is equivalent to a\n'conviction of the general utility' of the action.[600] 'All this,' he\nconcludes, 'is settled by universal consent. It is vain, therefore, to\nthink of disputing it.' One may, however, ask what it means. I have\nalready observed that the view of the non-moral character of motive\nwas a natural corollary from the purely legal point of view. I must\nnow consider the results of applying it unreservedly in the\ninappropriate sphere of ethics.\n\nIn the first place, the denial of any moral quality in motive seems to\nbe inconsistent with Mill's own principles. The Utilitarian, according\nto him, holds that the moral law is essentially the statement that\ncertain conduct produces general happiness. If, then, we ask, Who is a\ngood man? we first reply that he is a man whose conduct produces\nhappiness. Another conclusion is obviously necessary, and is implied\nin Mill's statement that the 'intention' is essential to morality. The\nman, that is, must foresee that his conduct will produce happiness.\nThe 'calculation' is precisely what makes an action moral as well as\naccidentally useful. In other words, the man is good to whom the\nknowledge that an act will produce happiness is the same thing as a\ncommand to perform the act. The 'intention' could not affect conduct\nwithout the corresponding motive, and Mill can at times recognise the\nobvious consequence. The 'physical law' (meaning the law enforced by\nphysical coercion), he says incidentally, has 'extrinsic'\nsanctions;[601] the moral law is different, because it sanctions good\nactions for their goodness. 'Moral approval' must therefore include\napproval of character. A man, to be moral, must be one who does useful\nthings simply because they are useful. He must then, it would seem, be\nat least benevolent. The same thing is implied by the doctrine of\n'intention' or 'calculation.' An action may be useful or the reverse\nwithout being moral when the consequences are unknown to the agent. To\nmake it moral he must know the consequences--for otherwise he is\nmerely acting at random; and the foreseen consequences constitute the\n'intention.' To this Mill adds that he must have taken into account\nthe consequences which 'might have been foreseen.'[602] Otherwise we\nshould have to excuse a man because he had neglected to calculate,\nwhereas to calculate is the very essence of virtue. A man who fired a\ngun down a crowded street would not be excusable because he had not\nthought of the result. He 'ought' to have thought of it. The question\nof moral approval of any given action turns upon these questions. Did\na man foresee evil consequences and disregard them? He is then cruel.\nDid he neglect to consider them? He is then culpably careless, though\nnot actually malignant. Were the consequences altogether beyond the\npowers of reasonable calculation? Then he may be blameless. The whole\nmoral question, therefore, depends upon the character indicated; that\nis, upon the motives which induce a man to calculate consequences and\nwhich determine his conduct when the calculation is made.\n\nThe truth is, I think, and it is characteristic of Mill's modes of\nanalysis, that he is making an impossible abstraction. He is\nseparating parts of a single process and treating them as independent.\nIf actions are bad because they have bad consequences, motives are bad\nbecause they are causes of bad actions. You cannot suppress the effect\nwithout suppressing the cause, and therefore the cause of the cause.\nMill relies chiefly upon one argument. The same conduct will produce\nthe same consequences whatever the motives. That is undeniable. It is\nthe same to me whether I am burnt because the persecutor loves my soul\nor because he hates me as a rebel to his authority. But when is\nconduct 'the same'? If we classify acts as the legislator has to\nclassify them by 'external' or 'objective' relations, we put together\nthe man who is honest solely from fear of the gallows and the man who\nis honest from hatred of stealing. So long as both act alike, the\n'consequences' to their neighbours are alike. Neither is legally\npunishable. But if acts are classified by their motives, one is a\nrogue and the other virtuous; and it is only then that the question of\nmorality properly arises. In that case, it is idle to separate the\nquestion of motive and consequences, because the character determines\nthe motive and therefore the action. Nobody should have seen this more\nclearly than Mill as a good 'determinist.' Conduct and character are\nrelated as the convex and concave of the curve; conduct is simply the\nmanifestation of character, and to separate them is absurd.\n\nWhy did he not see this? For reasons, I think, which illustrate his\nwhole method. From a scientific point of view, the ethical problem\nraises the wide questions, What are the moral sentiments? and, What\nfunctions do they discharge in regard to the society or to its\nindividual members? We might hold that morality is justified by\n'utility' in the sense that the moral rules and the character which\nthey indicate are essential to the welfare of the race or its\nindividual constituents. But to Mill this proposition is interpreted\nas identical with the proposition that conduct must be estimated by\nits 'consequences.' We are to consider not the action itself, but its\neffects; and the effects are clearly independent of the motive when\nonce the action has been done. We may therefore get a calculus of\n'utility': general rules stating what actions will be useful\nconsidered abstractedly from their motives. The method, again, might\nbe plausible if we could further assume that all men were the same and\ndiffered only in external circumstances. That is the point of view to\nwhich Mill, like Bentham, is always more or less consciously\ninclining. The moral and the positive law are equally enforced by\n'sanctions'; by something not dependent upon the man himself, and\nwhich he is inclined to suppose will operate equally upon all men.\nSuch language could be justifiable only of an average and uniform\n'man,' a kind of constant unit, whose varying behaviour must always be\nexplained by difference in circumstance. We have sufficiently seen the\nresults elsewhere, and in this ethical doctrine they are especially\nmanifest.\n\nMackintosh recognised the fact that morality is essentially a\nfunction of character. Mill cannot fully admit that, because he\nvirtually assumes all character to be the same. Regarding morality as\nsomething co-ordinate with law, he does not perceive that the very\npossibility of law implies the moral instincts, which correspond to\nthe constitution of character, and belong to a sphere underlying, not\non the same plane with, the legislative sphere. They are the source of\nall order; not themselves the product of the order. It is impossible\nto deduce them, therefore, from the organisation which presupposes\nthem. Now, in one direction, Mill's theory leads, as his son remarked,\nnot to laxity but to excessive strictness. The 'criterion' is laid\ndown absolutely. The 'moral sense' is rejected because it means an\nautocratic faculty, entitled to override the criterion by its own\nauthority. To appeal to 'motives' is to allow the individual to make\nhis own feeling the ultimate test of right and wrong. If we follow\nMill in this we are not really assuming the moral neutrality of motive\nor the indifference, but an impossible profession of character. Men\nare not governed by abstract principles but by their passions and\naffections. The emotions, as Mackintosh rightly said, cannot be\nresolved into the mere logic. Utility may give the true criterion of\nmorality, but it does not follow that the perception of utility is\nimplied in moral conduct. The motives are good which in fact produce\nuseful conduct, though the agent does not contemplate the abstract\nprinciple. It is impossible that men should be moved simply by a\ndesire for the 'greatest happiness of the greatest number.' What does\nand always must guide men is their personal relation to the little\ncircle which they actually influence. The good man is the man so\nconstituted that he will spontaneously fulfil his duties. The moral\nlaw, that is, will be also the law of his character and conduct. The\nmother is good because she loves her child, not because she sees that\ncare of her child is dictated by the general maxim of utility. The\n'utility' of character means the fitness of the agent to be an\nefficient member of the social structure to which he belongs. In\nparticular cases this may lead to such problems as that of Fletcher of\nSaltoun. His sense of honour and his general benevolence, though both\nuseful, might come into collision; and the most difficult of all\nquestions of casuistry arise from such conflicts between private and\npublic affections. Mill is justified in holding that a sense of honour\ncannot give an ultimate and autocratic decision. Under some pretext or\nother, we shall have to ask the Utilitarian question whether on the\nwhole it may not be causing more misery than the virtuous action is\nworth. But that only means that the character must be so balanced as\nto give due weight to each motive; not that we can abstract from\ncharacter altogether, as though human beings could be mere colourless\nand uniform atoms, embodying abstract formulae.\n\nMill is following Bentham, and only brings out more clearly the\npsychological assumptions. A man, he says, acts from the 'same motive'\nwhether he steals five shillings or earns it by a day's labour. The\nmotive, in this sense, regards only one consequence, whereas the\n'intention' regards all. The 'motive,' that is, is only one of the\nmotives or a part of the character, and this way of speaking is one of\nthe awkward results of turning 'motives' into 'things.' The obvious\nanswer is that which Mill himself makes to Mackintosh. Mackintosh and\nButler, he thinks, personify particular 'appetites.'[603] It is not\nreally the 'conscience' which decides, but the man. That is quite\ntrue, and similarly it is the whole man who steals or works, not the\n'personified' motive; and it is accordingly from the whole character\nthat we judge. We have to consider the relation of the love of five\nshillings to the other qualities of industry and honesty. The same\nview appears in Mill's characteristic dislike of 'sentimentalism.'\nWishing to attack Mackintosh's rhetoric about the delight of virtuous\nfeeling, he for once quotes a novel to illustrate this point. When\nParson Adams defined charity as a 'generous disposition to relieve the\ndistressed,' Peter Pounce approved; 'it is, as you say, a disposition,\nand does not so much consist in the act as in the disposition to do\nit.'[604] When, therefore, Mackintosh says that he finds it difficult\nto separate the virtue from the act, Mill replies that nothing is\neasier. The virtue is 'in the act and its consequences'; the feeling a\nmere removable addition. Apparently he would hold that the good\nSamaritan and the Pharisee had the same feeling, though it prompted\none to relieve the sufferer and the other to relieve himself of the\nsight of the sufferer. They had, of course, a feeling in common, but a\nfeeling which produced diametrically opposite effects, because\nentering into totally different combinations.\n\nIf Mill's doctrine leads to an impossible strictness in one direction,\nit leads to less edifying results in another. We have omitted 'motive'\nand come to the critical question, How, after all, is the moral code\nto be enforced? By overlooking this question and declaring 'motive' to\nbe irrelevant, we get the paradox already accepted by Bentham. His\ndefinition of virtue is action for the good of others as well as of\nourselves. In what way is the existence of such action to be\nreconciled with this doctrine? What are the motives which make men\ncount the happiness of others to be equally valuable with their own?\nor, in the Utilitarian language, What is the 'sanction' of morality?\nAfter all Bentham's insistence upon the 'self-preference principle'\nand Mill's account of selfishness in his political theory, we are\nsuddenly told that morality means a lofty and rigid code in which the\nhappiness of all is the one end. Here again Mill is entangled by the\ncharacteristic difficulty of his psychology. To analyse is to divide\nobjects into separate units. When he has to do with complex objects\nand relations apparently reciprocal, he is forced to represent them by\na simple sequence. The two factors are not mutually dependent but\ndistinct things somehow connected in time. One result is his account\nof 'ends' or 'motives' (the two, as he observes, are synonymous).[605]\nThe end is something to be gained by the act, the 'association' of\nwhich with the act constitutes a 'desire.' This, we have seen, always\nrefers to the future.[606] In acting, then, I am always guided by\ncalculations of future pleasures or pains. I believe this to be one of\nthe most unfortunate because one of the most plausible of Utilitarian\nfallacies. If we are determined by pains and pleasures, it is in one\nsense as contradictory to speak of our being determined by future\npains and pleasures as to speak of our being nourished to-day by\nto-morrow's dinner. The 'future pleasure' does not exist; the\nanticipated pleasure acts by making the present action pleasant; and\nwe then move (as it is said) along the line of least resistance.\nCertain conduct is intrinsically pleasurable or painful, and the\nfuture pleasure only acts through the present foretaste. When,\nhowever, we regard the pleasure as future and as somehow a separable\nthing, we can only express these undeniable facts by accepting a\npurely egoistic conclusion. We are, of course, moved by our own\nfeelings, as we breathe with our own lungs and digest with our own\nstomachs. But when we accept the doctrine of 'ends' this harmless and\nself-evident truth is perverted into the statement that our 'end' must\nbe our own pleasure; that we cannot be really or directly unselfish.\nThe analysis, indeed, is so defective that it can hardly be applied\nintelligibly. Hume observes that no man would rest his foot\nindifferently upon a stool or a gouty toe. The action itself of giving\npain would be painful, and cannot be plausibly resolved into an\nanticipation of an 'end.' This, again, is conspicuously true of all\nthe truly social emotions. Not only the conscience, but the sense of\nshame or honour, or pride and vanity act powerfully and\ninstantaneously as present motives without necessary reference to any\nfuture results. The knowledge that I am giving pain or causing future\npain is intrinsically and immediately painful to the normal human\nbeing, and the supposed 'analysis' is throughout a fiction. Mill,\nhowever, like Bentham, takes it for granted, but perceives more\nclearly than Bentham the difficulty to which it leads. How, from a\ntheory of pure selfishness, are we to get a morality of general\nbenevolence? The answer is given by the universal 'association.' We\nare governed, he holds, by our own emotions; our end is our own\npleasure, and we have to consider how this end dictates a desire for\ngeneral happiness. He expounds with great vigour the process by which\nthe love of friends, children and parents and country may be gradually\ndeveloped through the association of our pleasures with the\nfellow-creatures who caused them. J. S. Mill regards his exposition as\n'almost perfect,'[607] and says that it shows how the 'acquired\nsentiments'--the moral sentiments and so forth--may be gradually\ndeveloped; may become 'more intense and powerful than any of the\nelements out of which they may have been formed, and may also in their\nmaturity be perfectly disinterested.' James Mill declares that the\nanalysis does not affect the reality of the sentiments analysed.\nGratitude remains gratitude, and generosity generosity, just as a\nwhite ray remains white after Newton had decomposed it into rays of\ndifferent colours.[608] Here once more we have the great principle of\nindissoluble association or mental chemistry.\n\nGranting that the emotions so generated may be real, we may still ask\nwhether the analysis be sufficient. James Mill's account of the way in\nwhich they are generated leaves a doubt. Morality is first impressed\nupon us by authority. Our parents praise and blame, reward and\npunish. Thus are formed associations of praise and blame with certain\nactions. Then, we form further associations with the causes of praise\nand blame and thus acquire the sentiments of 'praiseworthiness' and\n'blameworthiness.' The sensibility to praise and blame generally forms\nthe 'popular sanction,' and this, when praiseworthiness is concerned,\nbecomes the moral sanction.[609] Here we see that morality is regarded\nas somehow the product of a 'sanction'; that is, of the action of\npraise and blame with their usual consequences upon the individual.\nHis sensibility causes him through association to acquire the habits\nwhich generally bring praise and blame; and ultimately these qualities\nbecome attractive for their own sake. The difficulty is to see where\nthe line is crossed which divides truly moral or altruistic conduct\nfrom mere prudence. Admitting that association may impel us to conduct\nwhich involves self-sacrifice, we may still ask whether such conduct\nis reasonable. Association produces belief in error as well as in\ntruth. If I love a man because he is useful and continue to love him\nwhen he can no longer be useful, am I not misguided? If I wear a\nragged coat, because it was once smart, my conduct is easily explained\nas a particular kind of folly. If I am good to my old mother when she\ncan no longer nurse me, am I not guilty of a similar folly? In short,\na man who inferred from Mill's principles that he would never do good\nwithout being paid for it, would be hardly inconsistent. Your\nassociations, Mill would say, are indissoluble. He might answer, I\nwill try--it is surely not so hard to dissolve a tie of gratitude!\nGranting, in short, that Mill gives an account of such virtue as may\nbe made of enlightened self-interest, he does not succeed in making\nintelligible the conduct which alone deserves the name of virtuous.\nThe theory always halts at the point where something more is required\nthan an external sanction, and supposes a change of character as well\nas a wider calculation of personal interest.\n\nThe imperfection of this theory may be taken for granted. It has been\nexposed by innumerable critics. It is more important to observe one\ncause of the imperfection. Mill's argument contains an element of real\nworth. It may be held to represent fairly the historical development\nof morals. That morality is first conceived as an external law\nderiving its sanctity from authority; that it is directed against\nobviously hurtful conduct; and that it thus serves as a protection\nunder which the more genuine moral sentiments can develop themselves,\nI believe to be in full accordance with sound theories of ethics. But\nMill was throughout hampered by the absence of any theory of\nevolution. He had to represent a series of changes as taking place in\nthe individual which can only be conceived as the product of a long\nand complex social change. He is forced to represent the growth of\nmorality as an accretion of new 'ends' due to association, not as an\nintrinsic development of the character itself. He has to make morality\nout of atomic sensations and ideas collected in clusters and trains\nwithout any distinct reference to the organic constitution of the\nindividual or of society, and as somehow or other deducible from the\nisolated human being, who remains a constant, though he collects into\ngroups governed by external sanctions. He sees that morality is\nformed somehow or other, but he cannot show that it is either\nreasonable or an essential fact of human nature. Here, again, we shall\nsee what problem was set to his son. Finally, if Mill did not explain\nethical theory satisfactorily, it must be added in common justice that\nhe was himself an excellent example of the qualities for which he\ntried to account. A life of devotion to public objects and a\nconscientious discharge of private duties is just the phenomenon for\nwhich a cluster of 'ideas' and 'associations' seems to be an\ninadequate account. How, it might have been asked, do you explain\nJames Mill? His main purpose, too, was to lay down a rule of duty,\nalmost mathematically ascertainable, and not to be disturbed by any\nsentimentalism, mysticism, or rhetorical foppery. If, in the attempt\nto free his hearers from such elements, he ran the risk of reducing\nmorality to a lower level and made it appear as unamiable as sound\nmorality can appear, it must be admitted that in this respect too his\ntheories reflected his personal character.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[464] For an account of these writers and their relation to the\npre-revolutionary schools, see _Les Ideologues_ by F. Picavet (1891).\n\n[465] Macvey Napier's _Correspondence_, p. 424.\n\n[466] Charles Francois Dominique de Villers (1767-1815) was a French\nofficer, who emigrated in 1792, and took refuge at Luebeck. He became\nprofoundly interested in German life and literature, and endeavoured\nto introduce a knowledge of German speculation to his countrymen. His\nchief books were this exposition of Kant and an essay upon the\n_Reformation of Luther_ (1803), which went through several editions,\nand was translated by James Mill in 1805. An interesting account of\nVillers is in the _Biographie Universelle_.\n\n[467] See Cockburn's _Memorials_ for a good notice of this.\n\n[468] Stewart's _Works_, iv. 345.\n\n[469] Lady Holland's _Life of Smith_, ii. 388.\n\n[470] _Inquiry into the Relations of Cause and Effect_ (third\nedition), pp. 178, 180, and part iv. sec. 6.\n\n[471] _Examination of Hamilton_ (fourth edition), p. 379.\n\n[472] _Cause and Effect_, pp. 184-87.\n\n[473] _Cause and Effect_, p. 197.\n\n[474] _Ibid._ p. 239 _seq._\n\n[475] _Ibid._ p. 244.\n\n[476] _Ibid._ p. 150.\n\n[477] _Ibid._ p. 357.\n\n[478] _Cause and Effect_, p. 313.\n\n[479] _Cause and Effect_, p. 482. Brown thinks that we can logically\ndisprove the existence of motion by the hare and tortoise argument,\nand should therefore disregard logic.\n\n[480] Brown's _Lectures_, (1851), p. 167, Lect. xxvi.\n\n[481] Lecture xxv. This question as to whether Brown had or had not\ngrossly misrepresented Reid and other philosophers, led to an\nentangled argument, in which Mill defended Brown against Hamilton. I\nwill not ask whether Reid was a 'natural realist' or a 'cosmothetic\nidealist,' or what Descartes or Arnauld thought about the question.\n\n[482] Reid's _Works_, p. 128.\n\n[483] _Lectures_, pp. 150, 158-59.\n\n[484] _Dissertations_, p. 98. Compare Brown's Twenty-fourth Lecture\nwith Tracy's _Ideologie_, ch. vii., and the account of the way in\nwhich the infant learns from resistance to infer a cause, and make of\nthe cause _un etre qui n'est pas moi_. The resemblance is certainly\nclose. Brown was familiar with French literature, and shows it by many\nquotations, though he does not, I think, refer to Tracy. Brown, it\nmust be noticed, did not himself publish his lectures, and a professor\nis not bound to give all his sources in popular lectures. An\nexplanation would have been due in a treatise. Picavet quotes\nRhetore's _Philosophie de Thomas Brown_ (a book which I have not seen)\nfor the statement that Brown's lectures often read like a translation\nof Laromiguiere, with whom Brown was 'perhaps' acquainted. As,\nhowever, the _Lecons_, to which reference is apparently made, did not\nappear till 1815 and 1818, when Brown's lectures were already written,\nthis seems to be impossible. The coincidence, which to me seems to be\nexaggerated by the statement, is explicable by a common relation to\nprevious writers.\n\n[485] _Lectures_, p. 166 (Lect. xxvi.).\n\n[486] _Lectures_, p. 158 (Lect. xxv.).\n\n[487] _Ibid._ p. 151 (Lect. xxiv.).\n\n[488] _Lectures_, p. 177 (ch. xxviii.). Brown made the same remark to\nMackintosh in 1812. (Mackintosh's _Ethical Philosophy_, 1872, 236\n_n._)\n\n[489] _Ibid._ p. 154 (Lect. xxiv.).\n\n[490] See Hamilton's note to Reid's _Works_, p. 111.\n\n[491] _Lectures_, p. 255 (Lect. xl.).\n\n[492] _Ibid._ (Lect. xxxiii. and following).\n\n[493] _Ibid._ p. 214-15 (Lect. xxxiii.). The phrase is revived by\nProfessor Stout in his _Analytic Psychology_.\n\n[494] _Lectures_, p. 213 (Lect. xxxiii.).\n\n[495] This is one of the coincidences with Laromiguiere (_Lecons_\n(1837), i. 103).\n\n[496] _Lectures_, p. 210.\n\n[497] _Lectures_, p. 315 (Lect. xlviii.).\n\n[498] _Ibid._ p. 314.\n\n[499] _Lectures_, p. 335 (Lect. li.). See Lect. xi. for a general\nexplanation. The mind is nothing but a 'series of feelings'; and to\nsay that 'I am conscious of feeling' is simply to say 'I feel.' The\nsame phrase often occurs in James Mill.\n\n[500] _Ibid._ p. 298 (Lect. xlvi.).\n\n[501] _Ibid._ p. 498 (Lect. lxxiv.).\n\n[502] _Lectures_, p. 622 (Lect. xciii.).\n\n[503] _Dissertations_, p. 98.\n\n[504] Froude's _Carlyle_, p. 25.\n\n[505] _Miscellanies_ (1858), ii. 104. See, too, _Miscellanies_, i. 60,\non German Literature, where he thinks that the Germans attacked the\ncentre instead of the outworks of Hume's citadel. Carlyle speaks with\nmarked respect of Dugald Stewart, who, if he knew what he was about,\nwould agree with Kant.\n\n[506] In Caroline Fox's _Memories of Old Friends_ (second edition),\nii. 314, is a letter from J. S. Mill, expressing a very high opinion\nof Brown, whom he had just been re-reading (1840) with a view to the\nLogic. Brown's 'analysis in his early lectures of the amount of what\nwe can learn of the phenomena of the world seems to me perfect, and\nhis mode of inquiry into the mind is strictly founded upon that\nanalysis.'\n\n[507] I quote from this edition. Andrew Findlater (1810-1885), a\nScottish schoolmaster, and editor of Chambers's _Cyclopaedia_, was a\nphilologist (_Dictionary of National Biography_), and his notes\nchiefly concern Mill's adaptations of Horne Tooke.\n\n[508] _Treatise_ (bk. i. pt. i. sec. iv.).\n\n[509] J. S. Mill's _Autobiography_, p. 68.\n\n[510] _Fragment on Mackintosh_, p. 314.\n\n[511] _Analysis_, ii. 42. 'Odd,' because Brown was six years younger\nthan Mill.\n\n[512] 'Education,' p. 6.\n\n[513] _Analysis_, i. 52.\n\n[514] _Analysis_, i. xvii.\n\n[515] _Ibid._ i. 70.\n\n[516] _Analysis_, i. 71.\n\n[517] _Ibid._ i. 78.\n\n[518] _Ibid._ i. 83.\n\n[519] _Analysis_, ii. 42.\n\n[520] _Ibid._ i. 270.\n\n[521] _Ibid._ i. 111.\n\n[522] _Ibid._ i. 362.\n\n[523] _Analysis_, i. 154 _n._\n\n[524] _Ibid._ i. 161.\n\n[525] _Analysis_, i. 189.\n\n[526] _Ibid._ i. 163 _n._\n\n[527] _Ibid._ i. 266.\n\n[528] _Ibid._ i. 269.\n\n[529] _Ibid._ i. 295.\n\n[530] _Analysis_, i. 162 _n._, 187 _n._\n\n[531] _Ibid._ ii. 21.\n\n[532] _Ibid._ i. 224-25.\n\n[533] _Analysis_, i. 342.\n\n[534] _e.g._ _Ibid._ ii. 176.\n\n[535] _Ibid._ i. 341.\n\n[536] _Ibid._ i. 342 _n._\n\n[537] _Ibid._ i. 331.\n\n[538] _Ibid._ i. 345.\n\n[539] _Ibid._ i. 352.\n\n[540] _Ibid._ i. 381.\n\n[541] _Analysis_, i. 363.\n\n[542] _Ibid._ i. 402.\n\n[543] _Ibid._ i. 402-23.\n\n[544] _Analysis_, i. 423.\n\n[545] _Ibid._ i. 413, 419.\n\n[546] See especially his account of definition, _Logic_, bk. i. ch.\nviii., and the problem about the serpent and the dragon.\n\n[547] _Analysis_, ii. 2.\n\n[548] This point puzzles Destutt de Tracy. All error, he says, arises\nin judgments: 'Cependant les jugements, les perceptions de rapports,\nen tant que perceptions que nous avons actuellement, sont aussi\ncertaines et aussi reelles que toutes les autres.'--_Elements\nd'Ideologie_ (1865), iii. 449.\n\n[549] _Analysis_, ii. 6, 7.\n\n[550] _Analysis_, ii. 18 _n._\n\n[551] _Analysis_, ii. 24 _n._\n\n[552] _Ibid._ ii. 132-33.\n\n[553] _Analysis_, ii. 67-69.\n\n[554] _Analysis_, ii. 113 _n._\n\n[555] _Ibid._ i. 97 _n._\n\n[556] Professor Bain points out that Mill is occasionally confused by\nhis ignorance of the triple division, intellect, feelings: and will,\nintroduced in the next generation.--_Analysis_, ii. 180 _n._\n\n[557] _Analysis_, ii. 181-83.\n\n[558] _Analysis_, ii. 351.\n\n[559] Also privately printed in 1830. Later editions, edited by\nWhewell, appeared in 1836, 1862, 1873. I quote the last. See M.\nNapier's _Correspondence_, pp. 57-59, for the composition.\n\n[560] Mill's _Fragment_ (Preface).\n\n[561] See Bain's _James Mill_, pp. 374, 415-18.\n\n[562] _Fragment_, pp. 190, 192, 213, 298, 307, 326.\n\n[563] _Ibid._ p. 210.\n\n[564] _Ethical Philosophy_ (1873), pp. 188, 193.\n\n[565] M. Napier's _Correspondence_, p. 25.\n\n[566] _Essay on Sir J. Mackintosh._\n\n[567] _Essay on Lord Holland._\n\n[568] _Lectures_, p. 500 (Lect. lxxv.).\n\n[569] _Ibid._ p. 519 (Lect. lxxvii.).\n\n[570] _Ibid._ p. 522 (Lect. lxxviii.).\n\n[571] _Ethical Philosophy_ (Hobbes), pp. 62-64.\n\n[572] _Ibid._ p. 85.\n\n[573] _Ibid._ p. 145.\n\n[574] _Ibid._ p. 9.\n\n[575] _Ibid._ p. 120.\n\n[576] _Ethical Philosophy_, pp. 14, 170.\n\n[577] _Ibid._ p. 197.\n\n[578] _Ibid._ p. 248.\n\n[579] _Ibid._ p. 204.\n\n[580] _Ethical Philosophy_ p. 242.\n\n[581] _Ibid._ p. 251.\n\n[582] _Ibid._ p. 262.\n\n[583] _Ibid._ p. 264.\n\n[584] _Ibid._ p. 169.\n\n[585] _Fragment_, p. 173.\n\n[586] _Ibid._ p. 323.\n\n[587] _Ibid._ p. 221.\n\n[588] _Fragment_, p. 247. Mackintosh quotes Mill's _Analysis_ at p.\n197. It had only just appeared.\n\n[589] _Fragment_, p. 11.\n\n[590] _Fragment_, p. 246, etc.\n\n[591] _Ibid._ p. 246.\n\n[592] _Ibid._ pp. 269, 270.\n\n[593] Cf. Newman's _Apologia_. 'The Catholic Church holds it better\nfor the sun and moon to drop from heaven, for the earth to fail, and\nfor all the millions on it to die of starvation in extremest agony, so\nfar as temporal affliction goes, than that one soul,--I will not say\nshould be lost, but should commit one single venial sin, tell one\nwilful untruth, or should steal one poor farthing without excuse.' I\nshould steal the farthing and assume the 'excuse.' I confess that I\nwould not only lie, but should think lying right under the supposed\ncircumstances.\n\n[594] _Autobiography_, p. 51.\n\n[595] _Fragment_, p. 251.\n\n[596] Vol. i. p. 257.\n\n[597] _Fragment_, p. 161.\n\n[598] _Fragment_, pp. 315-16.\n\n[599] _Ibid._ p. 164.\n\n[600] _Ibid._ pp. 320-22.\n\n[601] _Fragment_, p. 102.\n\n[602] _Ibid._ p. 162.\n\n[603] _Analysis_, p. 73.\n\n[604] _Fragment_, p. 209.\n\n[605] _Fragment_, p. 316.\n\n[606] At one point, as J. S. Mill notes, he speaks of an 'unsatisfied\ndesire' as a motive, which seems to indicate a present feeling; but\nthis is not his usual view.--_Analysis_, ii. 361, 377 _n._\n\n[607] _Analysis_, ii. 233 _n._ Mill adds that though his father\nexplains the 'intellectual,' he does not explain the 'animal' element\nin the affections. This, however, is irrelevant for my purpose.\n\n[608] _Fragment_, pp. 51-52.\n\n[609] _Analysis_, ii. 292-300; _Fragment_, pp. 247-65. Note Mill's\ninterpretation of this theory of 'praiseworthiness.'--_Analysis_, ii.\n298 _n._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nRELIGION\n\n\nI. PHILIP BEAUCHAMP\n\nThe application of Mill's _Analysis_ to the views of orthodox\ntheologians required, one might have supposed, as little\ninterpretation as a slap in the face. But a respectable philosopher\nmay lay down what premises he pleases if he does not avowedly draw his\nconclusions. Mill could argue in perfect safety against the\nfoundations of theology, while Richard Carlile was being sent to gaol\nagain and again for attacking the superstructure. The Utilitarians\nthought themselves justified in taking advantage of the illogicality\nof mankind. Whether it was that the ruling powers had no philosophical\nprinciples themselves, or that they did not see what inferences would\nfollow, or that they thought that the average person was incapable of\ndrawing inferences, they drew the line at this point. You may openly\nmaintain doctrines inconsistent with all theology, but you must not\npoint out the inconsistency. The Utilitarians contented themselves\nwith sapping the fort instead of risking an open assault. If its\ndefenders were blind to the obvious consequences of the procedure, so\nmuch the better. In private, there was obviously no want of plain\nspeaking. In Bentham's MSS. the Christian religion is nicknamed 'Jug'\nas the short for 'Juggernaut.' He and his friends were as anxious as\nVoltaire to crush the 'infamous,' but they would do it by indirect\nmeans. They argued resolutely for more freedom; and Samuel Bailey's\nessay upon the formation of opinions--a vigorous argument on behalf of\nthe widest possible toleration--was enthusiastically praised by James\nMill in the _Westminster Review_. For the present they carefully\nabstained from the direct avowal of obnoxious opinions, which were\nstill legally punishable, and which would undoubtedly excite the\nstrongest hostility. Bentham, as we have seen, had ventured, though\nanonymously, to assail the church catechism and to cross-examine St.\nPaul. One remarkable manifesto gave a fuller utterance to his\nopinions. A book called _The Analysis of the Influence of Natural\nReligion on the Temporal Happiness of Mankind_, by 'Philip Beauchamp,'\nappeared in 1822. The publisher was Richard Carlile, who was then\n'safe in Dorchester gaol.' No legal notice was taken of 'Philip\nBeauchamp.' The reason may have been that the book excited very little\nattention in general. Yet it is probably as forcible an attack as has\noften been written upon the popular theology. The name of 'Philip\nBeauchamp' covered a combination of Bentham and George Grote.[610] The\nbook, therefore, represents the view of representative Utilitarians of\nthe first and third generation, and clearly expressed the real\nopinions of the whole party. In his posthumous essays J. S. Mill\nspeaks of it as the only explicit discussion known to him of the\nquestion of the utility, as distinguished from the question of the\ntruth, of religion. Obviously, it was desirable to apply the universal\ntest to religious belief, and this very pithy and condensed statement\nshows the result.\n\nA short summary may indicate the essence of the argument. It is only\nnecessary to observe that the phrase 'natural religion' is part of the\ndisguise. It enables the author to avoid an explicit attack upon\nrevelation; but it is superabundantly obvious that the word 'natural'\nis superfluous. Revelation is really a fiction, and all religions are\n'natural.' A religion is called a 'superstition,' as 'Philip\nBeauchamp' remarks at starting, when its results are thought to be\nbad; and allowed to be a religion only when they are thought to be\ngood.[611] That device covers the familiar fallacy of distinguishing\nbetween uses and abuses, and, upon that pretence, omitting to take bad\nconsequences into account. We must avoid it by defining religion and\nthen tracing all the consequences, good or bad. Religion is\naccordingly taken to mean the belief in the existence of 'an Almighty\nBeing, by whom pains and pleasures will be dispensed to mankind during\nan infinite and future state of existence.' The definition is already\ncharacteristic. 'Religion' may be used in a far wider sense,\ncorresponding to a philosophy of the universe, whether that\nphilosophy does or does not include this particular doctrine. But\n'Philip Beauchamp's' assumption is convenient because it gives a\nrational reasoning to the problem of utility. Religion is taken to be\nsomething adventitious or superimposed upon other beliefs, and we can\ntherefore intelligibly ask whether it does good or harm. Taking this\ndefinition for granted, let us consider the results.\n\nThe first point is that we are of necessity in absolute ignorance as\nto a posthumous state. Now, fear is from our earliest infancy the\n'never-failing companion and offspring of ignorance.' Knowledge alone\ncan rescue us from perpetual suffering, because all security depends\nupon knowledge. Pain, moreover, is far more 'pungent' and distinct\nthan pleasure. 'Want and pain are natural; satisfaction and pleasure\nartificial and invented.' Pain, therefore, as the strongest, will\ndictate our anticipations. The hope of immortality is by the orthodox\ndescribed as a blessing; but the truth, deducible from these\nprinciples of human nature and verified by experience, is that natural\nreligion, instead of soothing apprehensions, adds fresh grounds of\napprehension. A revelation, as 'Philip Beauchamp' admits, might\nconceivably dispel our fears; but he would obviously say that the\nreligion which is taken to be revealed gives a far more vivid picture\nof hell than of heaven.[612] In the next place, it is 'obvious at\nfirst sight' that natural religion can properly give 'no rule of\nguidance.' It refers us to a region of 'desperate and unfathomable'\ndarkness.[613] But it nevertheless indirectly suggests a pernicious\nrule. It rests entirely upon conjectures as to the character of the\ninvisible Being who apportions pain or pleasure for inscrutable\nreasons. Will this Being be expected to approve useful or pernicious\nconduct? From men's language we might suppose that he is thought to be\npurely benevolent. Yet from their dogmas it would seem that he is a\ncapricious tyrant. How are we to explain the discrepancy? The\ndiscrepancy is the infallible result of the circumstances already\nstated.[614] The Deity has limitless power, and therefore is the\nnatural object of our instinctive fears. The character of the Deity is\nabsolutely incomprehensible, and incomprehensibility in human affairs\nis identical with caprice and insanity.[615] The ends and the means of\nthe Deity are alike beyond our knowledge; and the extremes both of\nwisdom and of folly are equally unaccountable. Now, we praise or blame\nhuman beings in order to affect their conduct towards us, to attract\nfavours or repel injuries. A tyrant possessed of unlimited power\nconsiders that by simple abstinence from injury he deserves boundless\ngratitude. The weak will only dare to praise, and the strong will only\nblame. The slave-owner never praises and the slave never blames,\nbecause one can use the lash while the other is subject to the lash.\nIf, then, we regard the invisible Being as a capricious despot, and,\nmoreover, as a despot who knows every word we utter, we shall never\nspeak of him without the highest eulogy, just because we attribute to\nhim the most arbitrary tyranny. Hence, the invisible despot will\nspecially favour the priests whose lives are devoted to supporting his\nauthority, and, next to priests, those who, by the practice of\nceremonies painful or useless to themselves, show that their sole aim\nis to give him pleasure. He will specially detest the atheists, and,\nnext to atheists, all who venture to disregard his arbitrary laws. A\nhuman judge may be benevolent, because he is responsible to the\ncommunity. They give and can take away his power. But the invisible\nand irresponsible ruler will have no motives for benevolence, and\napprove conduct pernicious to men because it is the best proof of a\ncomplete subservience to himself.[616] In spite of this, it has been\ngenerally asserted that religion supplies a motive, and the only\nadequate motive, to moral conduct. But the decay of religion would\nleave the sources of pain and pleasure unchanged. To say, then, that\nthe conduct prescribed by religion would disappear if the religious\nmotives were removed is virtually to admit that it produces no\n'temporal benefit.' Otherwise, the motives for practising such conduct\nwould not be affected. In fact, morality is the same in all countries,\nthough the injunctions of religion are various and contradictory. If\nreligion ordered only what is useful, it would coincide with human\nlaws, and be at worst superfluous. As a fact, it condemns the most\nharmless pleasures, such as the worst of human legislators have never\nsought to suppress. People have become tolerant, that is, they have\nrefused to enforce religious observances, precisely because they have\nseen that such observances cannot be represented as conducive to\ntemporal happiness.\n\nDuty, again, may be divided into duty to God and duty to man. Our\n'duty to God' is a 'deduction from the pleasures of the individual\nwithout at all benefiting the species.' It must therefore be taken as\na tax paid for the efficacy supposed to be communicated to the other\nbranch--the 'duty to man.'[617] Does religion, then, stimulate our\nobedience to the code of duty to man? 'Philip Beauchamp' admits for\nonce that, in certain cases, it '_might possibly_' be useful. It might\naffect 'secret crimes,' that is, crimes where the offender is\nundiscoverable. That, however, is a trifle. These cases, he thinks,\nwould be 'uncommonly rare' under a well-conceived system. The extent\nof evil in this life would therefore be trifling were superhuman\ninducements entirely effaced from the human bosom, and if 'human\ninstitutions were ameliorated according to the progress of\nphilosophy.'[618] On the other hand, the imaginary punishments are\nsingularly defective in the qualities upon which Bentham had insisted\nin human legislation. They are remote and uncertain, and to make up\nfor this are represented as boundless in intensity and durability. For\nthat reason, they precisely reverse the admitted principle that\npunishment should be so devised as to produce the greatest possible\neffect by the smallest infliction of pain. Supernatural sanctions are\nsupposed to maximise pain with a minimum of effect. The fear of hell\nrarely produces any effect till a man is dying, and then inflicts\ngreat suffering, though it has been totally inefficient as a\npreventive at the time of temptation. The influence of supernatural\npenalties is therefore in 'an inverse ratio to the demand for\nit.'[619] In reality, the efficacy of the sanctions is due to their\ndependence upon public opinion. Our real motive for acting rightly is\nour desire for the praise of our fellows and our interest in their\ngood conduct. We conceal this motive even from ourselves, because we\nwish to have the credit of serving the Deity exclusively. This is\nconfirmed by the familiar instances of a conflict between public\nopinion and religious sanctions. Duelling, fornication, and perjury\nare forbidden by the divine law, but the prohibition is ineffectual\nwhenever the real sentiment of mankind is opposed to it. The divine\nlaw is set aside as soon as it conflicts with the popular opinion. In\nexceptional cases, indeed, the credit attached to unreasonable\npractices leads to fanaticism, asceticism, and even insanity; but\nsuperhuman terrors fail at once when they try to curb the action of\ngenuine substantial motives. Hence we must admit that they are useless\nin the case even of 'secret crimes.' Religion, in short, prescribes\nmischievous practices, becomes impotent except for the production of\nmisery, and is really, though not avowedly, dependent on the popular\nsanction.[620]\n\nWe can now classify the evils actually produced. Religion injures\nindividuals by prescribing useless and painful practices: fasting,\ncelibacy, voluntary self-torture, and so forth. It suggests vague\nterrors which often drive the victim to insanity, and it causes\nremorse for harmless enjoyments.[621] Religion injures society by\ncreating antipathies against unbelievers, and in a less degree against\nheretics and nonconformists. It perverts public opinion by making\ninnocent actions blameable; by distorting the whole science of\nmorality and sanctioning the heterogeneous dictates of a certain blind\nand unaccountable impulse called the 'moral instinct or\nconscience.'[622] Morality becomes a 'mere catalogue of reigning\nsentiments,' because it has cast away the standard of utility. A\nspecial aversion to improvement is generated, because whatever\nchanges our conceptions of the 'sequences of phenomena' is supposed to\nbreak the divine 'laws of nature.' 'Unnatural' becomes a\n'self-justifying' epithet forbidding any proposed change of conduct,\nwhich will counteract the 'designs of God.' Religion necessarily\ninjures intellectual progress. It disjoins belief from its only safe\nground, experience. The very basis, the belief in an inscrutable and\narbitrary power, sanctions supernatural or 'extra-experimental'\nbeliefs of all kinds. You reject in the case of miracles all the tests\napplicable to ordinary instruction, and appeal to trial by ordeal\ninstead of listening to witnesses. Instead of taking the trouble to\nplough and sow, you expect to get a harvest by praying to an\ninscrutable Being. You marry without means, because you hold that God\nnever sends a child without sending food for it to eat. Meanwhile you\nsuborn 'unwarranted belief' by making belief a matter of reward and\npenalty. It is made a duty to dwell upon the arguments upon one side\nwithout attending to those upon the other, and 'the weaker the\nevidence the greater the merit in believing.'[623] The temper is\ndepraved not only by the antipathies generated, but by the 'fitful and\nintermittent character' of the inducements to conduct.[624]\n\nThe final result of all this is still more serious. It is that\nreligion, besides each separate mischief, 'subsidises a standing army\nfor the perpetuation of all the rest.'[625] The priest gains power as\na 'wonder-worker,' who knows how to propitiate the invisible Being,\nand has a direct interest in 'depraving the intellect,' cherishing\nsuperstition, surrounding himself with mysteries, representing the\nwill of the Deity as arbitrary and capricious, and forming an\norganised 'array of human force and fraud.'[626] The priesthood sets\nup an infallible head, imposes upon the weak and dying, stimulates\nantipathy, forms the mass of 'extra-experimental' beliefs into the\nlikeness of a science, and allies itself with the state. Heresy\nbecomes a crime. The ruler helps the priests to raise a tax for their\nown comfort, while they repay him by suppressing all seditious\nopinions. Thus is formed an unholy alliance between the authorities of\n'natural religion' and the 'sinister interests of the earth.' The\nalliance is so complete that it is even more efficient than if it had\nbeen openly proclaimed. 'Prostration and plunder of the community is\nindeed the common end of both' (priests and rulers). The only chance\nof dissension is about the 'partition of the spoil.'[627]\n\nThe book is as characteristic of the Utilitarians in style as in\nspirit. It is terse, vigorous reasoning, with no mere rhetorical\nflourishes. The consequences of the leading principle are deduced\nwithout flinching and without reserve. Had the authors given their\nnames, they would no doubt have excited antipathies injurious to the\npropaganda of Utilitarianism. They held, for that reason presumably,\nthat they were not bound to point out the ultimate goal of their\nspeculations. No intelligent reader of their other writings could fail\nto see what that goal must be; but an 'open secret' is still for many\npurposes a real secret. Whatever might be the suspicions of their\nantagonists, they could only be accused of a tendency. The book\namounts to an admission that the suspicions were well founded.\nUtilitarianism, the Utilitarians clearly recognised, logically implied\nthe rejection of all theology. Religion--on their understanding of the\nword--must, like everything else, be tested by its utility, and it was\nshown to be either useless or absolutely pernicious. The aim of the\nUtilitarians was, in brief, to be thoroughly scientific. The man of\nscience must be opposed to the belief in an inscrutable agent of\nboundless power, interfering at every point with the laws of nature,\nand a product of the fancy instead of the reason. Such a conception,\nso far as accepted, makes all theory of human conduct impossible,\nsuggests rules conflicting with the supreme rule of utility, and gives\nauthority to every kind of delusion, imposture, and 'sinister\ninterest.'\n\nIt would, I think, be difficult to mention a more vigorous discussion\nof the problem stated. As anonymous, it could be ignored instead of\nanswered; and probably such orthodox persons as read it assumed it to\nbe a kind of _reductio ad absurdum_ of the Utilitarian creed. It might\nfollow, they could admit, logically from the Utilitarian analysis of\nhuman nature, but it could only prove that the analysis was\nfundamentally wrong. Yet its real significance is precisely its\nthorough applicability to the contemporary state of opinion.\nBeauchamp's definition coincides with Paley's. The coincidence was\ninevitable. Utilitarians both in ethical and philosophical questions\nstart from the same assumptions as Paley, and the Paley doctrine gave\nthe pith of the dominant theology. I have observed that the Scottish\nphilosophers had abandoned the _a priori_ argument, and laid the whole\nstress of their theological doctrine upon Paley's argument from final\ncauses. The change of base was an inevitable consequence of their\nwhole system. They appealed to experience, to 'Baconian' methods, and\nto 'inductive psychology.' The theory of 'intuitions,' effective where\nit fell in with admitted beliefs, was idle against an atheist, who\ndenied that he had the intuition. The 'final causes' argument,\nhowever, rested upon common ground, and supplied a possible line of\ndefence. The existence of the Deity could perhaps be proved\nempirically, like the existence of the 'watchmaker.' Accordingly, this\nwas the argument upon which reliance was really placed by the average\ntheologian of the time. Metaphysical or ontological reasoning had been\ndiscarded for plain common-sense. The famous _Bridgewater Treatises_\nare the characteristic product of the period. It had occurred to the\nearl of Bridgewater, who died in 1829, that L8000 from his estate\nmight be judiciously spent in proving the existence of a benevolent\ncreator. The council of the Royal Society employed eight eminent men\nof science to carry out this design.[628] They wrote some interesting\nmanuals of popular science, interspersed with proper theological\napplications. The arguments were sincere enough, though they now seem\nto overlook with singular blindness the answer which would be\nsuggested by the 'evolutionist.' The logical result is, in any case, a\npurely empirical theology. The religion which emerges is not a\nphilosophy or theory of the world in general, but corresponds to a\nbelief in certain matters of fact (or fiction). The existence of the\nDeity is to be proved, like the existence of Caesar, by special\nevidence.\n\nThe main results are obvious. The logical base of the whole creed is\n'natural theology,' and 'natural theology' is simply a branch of\nscience, amenable to the ordinary scientific tests. It is intended to\nprove the existence of an agent essential to the working of the\nmachinery, as from the movements of a planet we infer the existence of\na disturbing planet. The argument from design, in this acceptation, is\nbriefly mentioned by 'Philip Beauchamp.' It is, he argues, 'completely\nextra-experimental'; for experience only reveals design in living\nbeings: it supposes a pre-existing chaos which can never be shown to\nhave existed, and the 'omnipotent will' introduced to explain the\nfacts is really no explanation at all, but a collection of meaningless\nwords.[629] The argument is briefly dismissed as concerning the truth,\nnot the utility, of religion, but one point is sufficiently indicated.\nThe argument from 'design' is always plausible, because it applies\nreasoning undeniably valid when it is applied within its proper\nsphere. The inference from a watch to a watchmaker is clearly\nconclusive. We know sufficiently what is meant by the watchmaker and\nby 'making.' We therefore reason to a _vera causa_--an agent already\nknown. When the inference is to the action of an inconceivable Being\nperforming an inconceivable operation upon inconceivable materials, it\nreally becomes illusory, or amounts to the simple assertion that the\nphenomenon is inexplicable. Therefore, again, it is essentially\nopposed to science though claiming to be scientific. The action of\nthe creator is supposed to begin where the possibility of knowledge\nends. It is just the inexplicable element which suggests the creative\nagency. Conversely, the satisfactory explanation of any phenomenon\ntakes it out of the theological sphere. As soon as the process becomes\n'natural' it ceases to demand the supernatural artificer. 'Making,'\ntherefore, is contradistinguished from 'growing.' If we see how the\neye has come into existence, we have no longer any reason to assume\nthat it was put together mechanically. In other words, 'teleology' of\nthis variety is dispelled by theories of evolution. The hypothesis of\ninterference becomes needless when we see how things came to be by\nworking out perfectly natural processes. As science, therefore,\nexpands, theology recedes. This was to become more evident at a later\nperiod. For the present, the teleological argument in the Paley form,\ntriumphantly set forth in Bridgewater Treatises and the like, rested\nthe defence of theology on the proofs of the discontinuity of the\nuniverse and the consequent necessity for admitting supernatural\ninterference. Science was therefore invoked to place absolute limits\non its own progress.\n\nBut other vital difficulties were already felt. The argument from\ncontrivance naturally implies limitation. The maker of a machine is\nstrictly limited by the properties of the matter upon which he works.\nThe inference might be verbally saved by saying that the maker was\n'potentially' omnipotent; but the argument, so far as it goes, is more\neasily satisfied by the hypothesis of a Being of great but still\nlimited powers. The Deity so proved, if the proof be valid, is not\nhimself the ground of the universe, the source from which nature\nitself emanates, as well as the special laws of nature, but a part of\nthe whole system; interfering, guiding, and controlling, but still\nonly one of the powers which contribute to the formation of the whole.\nHence arise questions which theologians rather evaded than attempted\nto answer. If with the help of Paley we can prove the existence of an\ninvisible Being--potentially omnipotent, though always operating as\nthough limited--there would still remain the question as to his\nattributes. He is skilful, we may grant, but is he benevolent or is he\nmoral? The benevolence could of course be asserted by optimists, if\nfacts were amenable to rhetoric. But a theory which is essentially\nscientific or empirical, and consistently argues from the effect to\nthe cause, must start from an impartial view of the facts, and must\nmake no presupposition as to the nature of the cause. The cause is\nknown only through the effects, and our judgment of them cannot be\nmodified by simply discovering that they are caused. If, then,\ncontrivance is as manifest in disease as in health, in all the\nsufferings which afflict mankind as well as in the pleasures which\nsolace him, we must either admit that the creator is not benevolent,\nor frankly admit that he is not omnipotent and fall into Manichaeism.\nNature, we are frequently told, is indifferent if not cruel; and\nthough Paley and his followers choose to shut their eyes to ugly\nfacts, it could be only by sacrificing their logic. They were bound to\nprove from observation that the world was so designed as to secure the\n'greatest happiness' before they could logically infer a purely\nbenevolent designer. It was of the very essence of their position that\nobserved facts should be the ultimate basis of the whole theory; and\nto alter the primary data by virtue of deductions drawn from them\ncould obviously not be logically justifiable.\n\nSuch reflections, though sufficiently obvious, might be too far from\npractical application to have much immediate effect. But the question\nof the moral bearing of theology was of more interest; and, here, the\ncoincidence of the Utilitarianism with the accepted theology of the\nday is especially important. The Deity regarded as the artificer\nappears to be far from purely benevolent. In respect to morality, is\nhe not simply indifferent? Does he not make men fragile and place them\namidst pitfalls? Does he not constantly slay the virtuous and save the\nwicked? How, indeed, from the purely empirical or scientific base, do\nyou deduce any moral attributes whatever? 'Natural theology,' as it\nwas called, might reveal a contriver, but could it reveal a judge or a\nmoral guide? Here the difficulty of a purely matter-of-fact theology\nmade itself felt on many sides. The remarkable influence of Butler\nupon many minds was partly due to a perception of this omission.\nButler avowedly appeals to the conscience, and therefore at least\nrecognises God as directly revealed in a moral character. That seemed\nto supply a gap in the ordinary theology. But in the purely empirical\nview Butler's argument was untenable. It appealed to one of the\n'intuitions' which were incompatible with its fundamental assumptions.\nThe compunctions of conscience were facts to be explained by\n'association,' not to be regarded as intimations of wrath. Butler's\nview might be inverted. The 'conscience' does, in truth, suggest the\ndivine wrath; but that only means that it suggests the quack remedies\nupon which 'wonder-working' priests establish their power. Instead of\nproving the truth of the religion, it explains the origin of\nsuperstition. To James Mill, as we have seen, Butler's argument would\nlogically prove not a righteous governor but a cruel creator.\nTheologians, again, of the Paley school, were bound in consistency to\nthe empirical or Utilitarian view of morality. Paley accepted the\nconsequences unreservedly; and if such philosophers as Brown and\nMackintosh persisted in regarding the coincidence between morality and\nhappiness as indicative of a pre-established harmony, not of an\nidentification of morality with the pursuit of general happiness, they\nstill admitted that 'utility' was the 'criterion' of morality. The\nmoral law, that is, coincides in its substance with the law, 'maximise\nhappiness,' and happiness means, as 'Philip Beauchamp' calls it,\n'temporal' happiness--the happiness of actual men living in this world\nand knowing nothing of any external world. How, then, is the moral law\nrelated to theology? To know what is moral, we must appeal to\nexperience and 'utility.' We must discover what makes for happiness,\njust as in medicine we must discover what makes for health or\npleasure, by the ordinary methods of observation. What place is left\nfor any supernatural intervention? The ostensible answer was that\nthough the moral code could be deduced from its utility, the motives\nby which it was to be enforced required some supernatural agency. The\nnatural man might see what was right, but need not therefore do what\nwas right. Here 'Philip Beauchamp' comes to a direct issue with the\ntheologians. He denies that the supernatural motive will be on the\nside of morality. When J. S. Mill remarked that there had been few\ndiscussions of the 'utility' as distinguished from the truth of\nreligion, he scarcely recognises one conspicuous fact. The great\nargument of divines had always been the absolute necessity of religion\nto morality; and if morality be understood to mean utility, this is\nsimply an argument from utility. The point, indeed, was often taken\nfor granted; but it certainly represents one of the strongest\npersuasives, if not one of the strongest reasons. The divines, in\nfact, asserted that religion was of the highest utility as supplying\nthe motive for moral conduct. What motives, then, can be derived from\nsuch knowledge of the Deity as is attainable from the 'Natural\ntheology' argument? How can we prove from it that he who puts the\nworld together is more favourable to the virtues than to the vices\nwhich are its results; or, if more favourable, that he shows any other\nfavour than can be inferred from experience? He has, it is agreed, put\nmen, as Bentham had said, under the command of two sovereign masters,\nPleasure and Pain; and has enabled them to calculate consequences, and\ntherefore to seek future pleasure and avoid future pain. That only\nproves that we can increase our happiness by prudence; but it suggests\nno additional reasons either for seeking happiness or for altering our\nestimate of happiness. As 'Philip Beauchamp' argues, we cannot from\nthe purely empirical ground get any motive for taking into account\nanything beyond our 'temporal' or secular interests. This, again, was\nin fact admitted by Paley. His mode of escape from the dilemma is\nfamiliar. The existence of a supreme artificer is inferred from the\ninterventions in the general order of nature. The existence of a moral\nruler, or the fact that the ruler approves morality, is inferred from\nhis interference by the particular manifestations of power which we\ncall miraculous. We know that actions will have other consequences\nthan those which can be inferred from our own experience, because some\ntwo thousand years ago a Being appeared who could raise the dead and\nheal the sick. If sufficient evidence of the fact be forthcoming, we\nare entitled to say upon his authority that the wicked will be damned\nand the virtuous go to heaven. Obedience to the law enforced by these\nsanctions is obviously prudent, and constitutes the true _differentia_\nof moral conduct. Virtue, according to the famous definition, is doing\ngood 'for the sake of everlasting happiness.' The downright bluntness\nwith which Paley announced these conclusions startled contemporaries,\nand yet it must be admitted that they were a natural outcome of his\nposition.\n\nIn short, the theological position of the Paley school and the\nUtilitarian position of 'Philip Beauchamp' start from the common\nground of experience. Religion means the knowledge of certain facts,\nwhich are to be inferred from appropriate evidence. It does not modify\nthe whole system of thought, but simply adds certain corollaries; and\nthe whole question is whether the corollaries are or are not proved by\nlegitimate reasoning. Can we discover heaven and hell as we discovered\nAmerica? Can observation of nature reveal to us a supernatural world?'\nThe first difficulty is that the argument for natural theology has to\nrest upon interference, not upon order, and therefore comes into\nconflict with the first principles of scientific procedure. The Deity\nis revealed not by the rational but by the arbitrary; and the more the\nworld is explained, the less the proof that he exists, because the\nnarrower the sphere of his action. Then, as such a Deity, even if\nproved, is not proved to be benevolent or moral, we have to rely for\nthe moral element upon the evidence of 'miracles,' that is, again, of\ncertain interruptions of order. The scientific tendency more or less\nembodied in Protestantism, so far as it appealed to reason or to\n'private judgment,' had, moreover, made it necessary to relegate\nmiracles to a remote period, while denying them at the present. To\nprove at once that there are no miracles now, and that there were a\nfew miracles two thousand years ago, was really hopeless. In fact, the\nargument had come to be stated in an artificial form which had no real\nrelation to the facts. If the apostles had been a jury convinced by a\ncareful legal examination of the evidence; if they had pronounced\ntheir verdict, in spite of the knowledge that they would be put to\ndeath for finding it, there would have been some force in Paley's\nargument. But then they had not. To assume such an origin for any\nreligion implied a total misconception of the facts. Paley assumed\nthat the apostles resembled twelve respectable deans of Carlisle\nsolemnly declaring, in spite of the most appalling threats, that John\nWesley had been proved to have risen from the dead. Paley might\nplausibly urge that such an event would require a miracle. But,\nmeanwhile, his argument appeared to rest the whole case for morality\nand religion upon this narrow and perilous base. We can only know that\nit is our interest to be moral if we know of heaven and hell; and we\nonly know of heaven and hell if we accept the evidence of miracles,\nand infer that the worker of miracles had supernatural sources of\ninformation. The moral difficulty which emerges is obvious. The Paley\nconception of the Deity is, in fact, coincident with Bentham's\nconception of the sovereign. He is simply an invisible sovereign,\noperating by tremendous sanctions. The sanctions are 'external,' that\nis to say, pains and pleasures, annexed to conduct by the volition of\nthe sovereign, not intrinsic consequences of the conduct itself. Such\na conception, thoroughly carried through, makes the relation between\nreligion and morality essentially arbitrary. Moreover, if with 'Philip\nBeauchamp' we regard the miracle argument as obviously insufficient,\nand consider what are the attributes really attributed to the\nsovereign, we must admit that they suggest such a system as he\ndescribes rather than the revelation of an all-wise and benevolent\nruler. It is true, as 'Philip Beauchamp' argues, that the system has\nall the faults of the worst human legislation; that the punishment is\nmade atrociously--indeed infinitely--severe to compensate for its\nuncertainty and remoteness; and that (as he would clearly add), to\nprevent it from shocking and stunning the intellect, it is regarded as\nremissible in consideration of vicarious suffering. If, then, the\nreligion is really what its dogmas declare, it is easier to assume\nthat it represents the cunning of a priesthood operating upon the\nblind fears and wild imaginations of an inaccessible world; and the\nostensible proofs of a divine origin resting upon miraculous proofs\nare not worth consideration. It professes to be a sanction to all\nmorality, but is forced to construct a mythology which outrages all\nmoral considerations. Taken as a serious statement of fact, the\nanthropomorphism of the vulgar belief was open to the objections which\nSocrates brought against the Pagan mythology. The supreme ruler was\nvirtually represented as arbitrary, cruel, and despotic.\n\nIf we ask the question, whether in point of fact the religion attacked\nby 'Philip Beauchamp' fairly represented the religion of the day, we\nshould have, of course, to admit that it was in one sense a gross\ncaricature. If, that is, we asked what were the real roots of the\nreligious zeal of Wilberforce and the Evangelicals, or of the\nphilanthropists with whom even James Mill managed to associate on\nfriendly terms, it would be the height of injustice to assume that\nthey tried to do good simply from fear of hell and hope of heaven, or\nthat their belief in Christianity was due to a study of Paley's\n_Evidences_. Their real motives were far nobler: genuine hatred of\ninjustice and sympathy for suffering, joined to the conviction that\nthe sects to which they belonged were working on the side of justice\nand happiness; while the creeds which they accepted were somehow\ncongenial to their best feelings, and enabled them to give utterance\nto their deepest emotions. But when they had to give a ground for that\nbelief they could make no adequate defence. They were better than\ntheir ostensible creed, because the connection of their creed with\ntheir morality was really arbitrary and traditional. We must always\ndistinguish between the causes of strong convictions and the reasons\nofficially assigned for them. The religious creed, as distinguished\nfrom the religious sentiment, was really traditional, and rested upon\nthe simple fact that it was congenial to the general frame of mind.\nIts philosophy meanwhile had become hopelessly incoherent. It wished\nto be sensible, and admitted in principle the right of 'private\njudgment' or rationalism so far as consistent with Protestantism. The\neffect had been that in substance it had become Utilitarian and\nempirical; while it had yet insisted upon holding on to the\nessentially irrational element.\n\nThe religious tradition was becoming untenable in this sense at the\nsame time as the political tradition. If radicalism in both were to be\neffectually resisted, some better foundation must be found for\nconservatism. I should be tempted to say that a critical period was\napproaching, did I not admit that every period can always be described\nas critical. In fact, however, thoughtful people, perceiving on the\none hand that the foundations of their creed were shaking, and yet\nholding it to be essential to their happiness, began to take a new\nposition. The 'Oxford movement,' started soon afterwards, implied a\nconviction that the old Protestant position was as untenable as the\nradical asserted. Its adherents attempted to find a living and visible\nbody whose supernatural authority might maintain the old dogmatic\nsystem. Liberal thinkers endeavoured to spiritualise the creed and\nprove its essential truths by philosophy, independently of the\nparticular historical evidence. The popular tendency was to admit in\nsubstance that the dogmas most assailed were in fact immoral: but to\nput them into the background, or, if necessary, to explain them away.\nThe stress was to be laid not upon miracles, but upon the moral\nelevation of Christianity or the beauty of character of its founder.\nThe 'unsectarian' religion, represented in the most characteristic\nwritings of the next generation, in Tennyson and Browning, Thackeray\nand Dickens, reflects this view. Such men detested the coarse and\nbrutalising dogmas which might be expounded as the true 'scheme of\nsalvation' by ignorant preachers seeking to rouse sluggish natures to\nexcitement; but they held to religious conceptions which, as they\nthought, really underlay these disturbing images, and which, indeed,\ncould hardly be expressed in any more definite form than that of a\nhope or a general attitude of the whole character. The problem seemed\nto be whether we shall support a dogmatic system by recognising a\nliving spiritual authority, or frankly accept reason as the sole\nauthority, and, while explaining away the repulsive dogmas, try to\nretain the real essence of religious belief.\n\n\nII. CONTEMPORARY THOUGHT\n\nIf I were writing a general history of opinion, it would be necessary\nto discuss the views of Mill's English contemporaries; to note their\nattitude in regard to the Utilitarian position, and point out how they\nprepared the way for the later developments of thought. The\nUtilitarians were opposed to a vague sentiment rather than to any\ndefinite system. They were a small and a very unpopular sect. They\nexcited antipathy on all sides. As advocating republicanism, they were\nhardly more disliked by the Tories, who directly opposed them, than by\nthe Whigs, who might be suspected of complicity. As enthusiastic\npolitical economists, they were equally detested by sentimental\nRadicals, Socialists, and by all who desired a strong government,\nwhether for the suppression of social evils or the maintenance of\nsocial abuses. And now, as suspected of atheism, they were hated by\ntheologians. But though the Utilitarians were on all sides condemned\nand denounced, they were met by no definite and coherent scheme of\nphilosophy. The philosophy of Stewart and Brown had at least a strong\ndrift in their direction. Though 'political economy' was denounced in\ngeneral terms, all who spoke with authority accepted Adam Smith. Their\npolitical opponents generally did not so much oppose their theories as\nobject to theory in general. The Utilitarian system might be both\nimperfect and dogmatic; but it had scarcely to contend with any clear\nand assignable rival. The dislike of Englishmen to any systematic\nphilosophy, whether founded upon the national character or chiefly due\nto special conditions, was still conspicuous outside of the small\nUtilitarian camp.\n\nTo discover, therefore, the true position of contemporary opinion, we\nshould have to look elsewhere. Instead of seeking for the philosophers\nwho did not exist, we should have to examine the men of letters who\nexpressed the general tendencies. In Germany, philosophical theories\nmay be held to represent the true drift of the national mind, and a\nhistorian of German thought would inquire into the various systems\nelaborated by professors of philosophy. He would at least be in no\nwant of materials for definite logical statements. In England, there\nwas no such intellectual movement. There we should have to consider\npoetry and literature; to read Wordsworth and Coleridge, Scott and\nByron and Shelley, if we would know what men were really thinking and\nfeeling. The difficulty is, of course, that none of these men, unless\nColeridge be an exception, had any conscious or systematic philosophy.\nWe can only ask, therefore, what they would have said if they had\nbeen requested to justify their views by abstract reasoning; and that\nis a rather conjectural and indefinite enterprise. It lies,\nfortunately, outside of my field; and it will be enough if I try to\nsuggest one or two sufficiently vague hints. In the first place, the\ncontrast between the Utilitarians and their opponents may almost be\nidentified with the contrast between the prosaic and the poetical\naspects of the world in general. Bentham frankly objected to poetry in\ngeneral. It proved nothing. The true Utilitarian was the man who held\non to fact, and to nothing but the barest, most naked and unadorned\nfact. Poetry in general came within the sweep of his denunciations of\n'sentimentalism' and 'vague generalities.' It was the 'production of a\nrude age'; the silly jingling which might be suitable to savages, but\nwas needless for the grown-up man, and was destined to disappear along\nwith the whole rubbish of mythology and superstition in whose service\nit had been enlisted. There is indeed a natural sympathy between any\nserious view of life and a distrust of the aesthetic tendencies.\nTheologians of many different types have condemned men for dallying\nwith the merely pleasurable, when they ought to be preoccupied with\nthe great ethical problems or the safety of their souls. James Mill\nhad enough of the old Puritan in him to sympathise with Carlyle's\naspiration, 'May the devil fly away with the fine arts!' To such men\nit was difficult to distinguish between fiction and lying; and if some\nconcession might be made to human weakness, poets and novelists might\nsupply the relaxations and serve to fill up the intervals of life, but\nmust be sternly excluded if they tried to intrude into serious\nstudies. Somehow love of the beautiful only interfered with the\nscientific investigation of hard facts.\n\nPoets, indeed, may take the side of reform, or may perhaps be\nnaturally expected to take that side. The idealist and the dreamer\nshould be attracted most powerfully by the visions of a better world\nand the restoration of the golden age. Shelley was among the most\nenthusiastic prophets of the coming era. His words, he hoped, were to\nbe 'the trumpet of a prophecy' to 'unawakened earth.' Shelley had sat\nat the feet of Godwin, and represented that vague metaphysical\ndreaming to which the Utilitarians were radically hostile. To the\nliterary critic, Shelley's power is the more remarkable because from a\nflimsy philosophy he span an imaginative tissue of such magical and\nmarvellous beauty. But Shelley dwelt in an ethereal region, where\nordinary beings found breathing difficult. There facts seemed to\ndissolve into thin air instead of supplying a solid and substantial\nbase. His idealism meant unreality. His 'trumpet' did not in fact\nstimulate the mass of mankind, and his fame at this period was\nconfined to a few young gentlemen of literary refinement. The man who\nhad really stirred the world was Byron; and if the decline of Byron's\nfame has resulted partly from real defects, it is partly due also to\nthe fact that his poetry was so admirably adapted to his\ncontemporaries. Byron at least could see facts as clearly as any\nUtilitarian, though fact coloured by intense passion. He, like the\nUtilitarians, hated solemn platitudes and hypocritical conventions. I\nhave noticed the point at which he came into contact with Bentham's\ndisciples. His pathetic death shortly afterwards excited a singularly\nstrong movement of sympathy. 'The news of his death,' said Carlyle at\nthe time, 'came upon my heart like a mass of lead; and yet the thought\nof it sends a painful twinge through all my being, as if I had lost a\nbrother.' At a later time he defines Byron as 'a dandy of sorrows and\nacquainted with grief.'[630] That hits off one aspect of Byronism.\nByron was the Mirabeau of English literature, in so far as he was at\nonce a thorough aristocrat and a strong revolutionist. He had the\nqualification of a true satirist. His fate was at discord with his\ncharacter. He was proud of his order, and yet despised its actual\nleaders. He was ready alternately to boast of his vices and to be\nconscious that they were degrading. He shocked the respectable world\nby mocking 'Satanically,' as they held, at moral conventions, and yet\nrather denounced the hypocrisy and the heartlessness of precisians\nthan insulted the real affections. He covered sympathy with human\nsuffering under a mask of misanthropy, and attacked war and oppression\nin the character of a reckless outlaw. Full of the affectation of a\n'dandy,' he was yet rousing all Europe by a cry of pure\nsentimentalism. It would be absurd to attribute any definite doctrine\nto Byron. His scepticism in religious matters was merely part of a\ngeneral revolt against respectability. What he illustrates is the\nvague but profound revolutionary sentiment which indicated a belief\nthat the world seemed to be out of joint, and a vehement protest\nagainst the selfish and stolid conservatism which fancied that the old\norder could be preserved in all its fossil institutions and\ncorresponding dogmas.\n\nWhat was the philosophy congenial to Conservatism? There is, of\ncourse, the simple answer, None. Toryism was a 'reaction' due to the\ngreat struggle of the war and the excesses of the revolution. A\n'reaction' is a very convenient phrase. We are like our fathers; then\nthe resemblance is only natural. We differ; then the phrase 'reaction'\nmakes the alteration explain itself. No doubt, however, there was in\nsome sense a reaction. Many people changed their minds as the\nrevolutionary movement failed to fulfil their hopes. I need not argue\nnow that such men were not necessarily corrupt renegades. I can only\ntry to indicate the process by which they were led towards certain\nphilosophical doctrines. Scott, Wordsworth, and Coleridge represent it\nenough for my purpose. When Mill was reproaching Englishmen for their\nwant of interest in history, he pointed out that Thierry, 'the\nearliest of the three great French historians' (Guizot and Michelet\nare the two others), ascribed his interest in his subject to\n_Ivanhoe_.[631] Englishmen read _Ivanhoe_ simply for amusement.\nFrenchmen could see that it threw a light upon history, or at least\nsuggested a great historical problem. Scott, it is often said, was the\nfirst person to teach us that our ancestors were once as much alive as\nourselves. Scott, indeed, the one English writer whose fame upon the\nContinent could be compared to Byron's, had clearly no interest in, or\ncapacity for, abstract speculations. An imaginative power, just\nfalling short of the higher poetical gift, and a masculine\ncommon-sense were his most conspicuous faculties. The two qualities\nwere occasionally at issue; his judgment struggled with his\nprejudices, and he sympathised too keenly with the active leaders and\nconcrete causes to care much for any abstract theory. Yet his\ninfluence upon thought, though indirect, was remarkable. The vividness\nof his historical painting--inaccurate, no doubt, and delightfully\nreckless of dates and facts--stimulated the growing interest in\nhistorical inquiries even in England. His influence in one direction\nis recognised by Newman, who was perhaps thinking chiefly of his\nmediaevalism.[632] But the historical novels are only one side of\nScott. Patriotic to the core, he lived at a time when patriotic\nfeeling was stimulated to the utmost, and when Scotland in particular\nwas still a province, and yet in many ways the most vigorous and\nprogressive part of a great empire. He represents patriotism\nstimulated by contact with cosmopolitan movements. Loving every local\npeculiarity, painting every class from the noble to the peasant,\nloving the old traditions, and yet sharing the great impulses of the\nday, Scott was able to interest the world at large. While the most\nfaithful portrayer of the special national type, he has too much sense\nnot to be well aware that picturesque cattle-stealers and Jacobite\nchiefs were things of the past; but he loves with his whole heart the\ninstitutions rooted in the past and rich in historical associations.\nHe transferred to poetry and fiction the political doctrine of Burke.\nTo him, the revolutionary movement was simply a solvent, corroding all\nthe old ties because it sapped the old traditions, and tended to\nsubstitute a mob for a nation. The continuity of national life seemed\nto him the essential condition; and a nation was not a mere aggregate\nof separate individuals, but an ancient organism, developing on an\norderly system--where every man had his rightful place, and the\nbeggar, as he observes in the _Antiquary_, was as ready as the noble\nto rise against foreign invasion. To him, the kings or priests who, to\nthe revolutionist, represented simple despotism, represented part of a\nrough but manly order, in which many virtues were conspicuous and the\ngoverning classes were discharging great functions. Though he did not\nuse the phrase, the revolutionary or radical view was hateful to him\non account of its 'individualism.' It meant the summary destruction of\nall that he cherished most warmly in order to carry out theories\naltogether revolting to his common-sense. The very roots of a sound\nsocial order depend upon the traditions and accepted beliefs which\nbind together clans or families, and assign to every man a\nsatisfactory function in life. The vivid realisation of history goes\nnaturally with a love--excessive or reasonable--of the old order; and\nScott, though writing carelessly to amuse idle readers, was\nstimulating the historical conceptions, which, for whatever reason,\nwere most uncongenial to the Utilitarian as to all the revolutionists.\n\nThe more conscious philosophical application is illustrated by\nWordsworth and Coleridge. Both of them had shared the truly\nrevolutionary enthusiasm, and both came in time to be classed with the\nTories. Both, as will be seen, had a marked influence upon J. S. Mill.\nWordsworth has written in the _Prelude_ one of the most remarkable of\nintellectual autobiographies. He was to be, though he never quite\nsucceeded in being, a great philosophical poet. He never succeeded,\nbecause, in truth, he was not a great philosopher. But no one has\nmore clearly indicated the history of his mental evolution. His\nsympathy with the revolution was perfectly genuine, but involved a\nvast misconception. A sturdy, independent youth, thoroughly imbued\nwith the instincts of his northern dalesmen, he had early leaned to a\nrepublican sentiment. His dislike of the effete conventionalism of the\nliterary creed blended with his aversion to the political rule of the\ntime. He caught the contagion of revolutionary enthusiasm in France,\nand was converted by the sight of the 'hunger-bitten' peasant\ngirl--the victim of aristocratic oppression. 'It is against that,'\nsaid his friend, 'that we are fighting,' and so far Wordsworth was a\nconvert. The revolution, therefore, meant to him the restoration of an\nidyllic state, in which the homely virtues of the independent peasant\nshould no longer be crushed and deprived of reward by the instruments\nof selfish despotism. The outbreak of war put his principles at issue\nwith his patriotism. He suffered keenly when called upon to triumph\nover the calamities of his countrymen. But gradually he came to think\nthat his sympathies were misplaced. The revolution had not altered\nhuman nature. The atrocities disturbed him, but for a time he could\nregard them as a mere accident. As the war went on, he began to\nperceive that the new power could be as tyrannical and selfish as the\nold. Instead of reconstructing a simple social ideal, it was forming a\nmilitary despotism. When the French armies put down the simple Swiss\npeasantry, to whom he had been drawn by his home-bred sympathies, he\nfinally gave up the revolutionary cause. He had gone through a mental\nagony, and his distracted sympathies ultimately determined a change\nwhich corresponded to the adoption of a new philosophy. Wordsworth,\nindeed, had little taste for abstract logic. He had imbibed Godwin's\ndoctrine, but when acceptance of Godwin's conclusions involved a\nconflict with his strongest affections--the sacrifice not only of his\npatriotism but of the sympathies which bound him to his fellows--he\nrevolted. Godwin represents the extreme of 'individualism,' the\nabsolute dissolution of all social and political bonds. Wordsworth\nescaped, not by discovering a logical defect in the argument, but by\nyielding to the protest of his emotions. The system, he thought, was\nfatal to all the affections which had made life dear to him; to the\nvague 'intimations' which, whatever else they might be, had yet power\nto give harmony to our existence.\n\nBy degrees he adopted a new diagnosis of the great political evils. On\none side, he sympathised with Scott's sense of the fatal effects upon\nthe whole social organism. Among his noblest poems are the 'Brothers'\nand 'Michael,' to which he specially called the attention of Fox. They\nwere intended, he explained, to show the surpassing value of the\ndomestic affections conspicuous among the shepherds and 'statesmen' of\nthe northern dales. He had now come to hold that the principles of\nGodwin and his like were destructive to the most important elements of\nhuman welfare. The revolutionists were not simply breaking the fetters\nof the simple peasant, but destroying the most sacred ties to which\nthe peasant owed whatever dignity or happiness he possessed.\nRevolution, in short, meant anarchy. It meant, therefore, the\ndestruction of all that gives real value to life. It was, as he held,\none product of the worship of the 'idol proudly named the \"wealth of\nnations,\"'[633] selfishness and greed replacing the old motives to\n'plain living and high thinking.' Wordsworth, in short, saw the ugly\nside of the industrial revolution, the injury done to domestic life by\nthe factory system, or the substitution of a proletariate for a\npeasantry, and the replacement of the lowest social order by a vast\ninorganic mob. The contemporary process, which was leading to\npauperism and to the evils of the factory system, profoundly affected\nWordsworth, as well as the impulsive Southey; and their frequent\ndenunciations gave colour to the imputations that they were opposed to\nall progress. Certainly they were even morbidly alive to the evil\naspects of the political economy of Malthus and Ricardo, which to them\nseemed to prescribe insensibility and indifference to most serious and\nrapidly accumulating evils.\n\nMeanwhile, Wordsworth was also impressed by the underlying\nphilosophical difficulties. The effect of the revolutionary principles\nwas to destroy the religious sentiment, not simply by disproving this\nor that historical statement, but by making the whole world prosaic\nand matter-of-fact. His occasional outbursts against the man of\nscience--the 'fingering slave' who would 'peep and botanise upon his\nmother's grave'--are one version of his feeling. The whole scientific\nmethod tended to materialism and atomism; to a breaking up of the\nworld into disconnected atoms, and losing the life in dissecting the\nmachinery. His protest is embodied in the pantheism of the noble lines\non Tintern Abbey, and his method of answering might be divined from\nthe ode on the 'Intimations of Immortality.' Somehow or other the\nworld represents a spiritual and rational unity, not a mere chaos of\ndisconnected atoms and fragments. We 'see into the heart of things'\nwhen we trust to our emotions and hold by the instincts, clearly\nmanifested in childhood, but clouded and overwhelmed in our later\nstruggles with the world. The essential thing is the cultivation of\nour 'moral being,' the careful preservation and assimilation of the\nstern sense of duty, which alone makes life bearable and gives a\nmeaning to the universe.\n\nWordsworth, it is plain, was at the very opposite pole from the\nUtilitarians. He came to consider that their whole method meant the\ndissolution of all that was most vitally sacred, and to hold that the\nrevolution had attracted his sympathies on false pretences. Yet it is\nobvious that, however great the stimulus which he exerted, and however\nlofty his highest flights of poetry, he had no distinct theory to\noffer. His doctrine undoubtedly was congenial to certain philosophical\nviews, but was not itself an articulate philosophy. He appeals to\ninstincts and emotions, not to any definite theory. In a remarkable\nletter, Coleridge told Wordsworth why he was disappointed with the\n_Excursion_.[634] He had hoped that it would be the 'first and only\ntrue philosophical poem in existence.' Wordsworth was to have started\nby exposing the 'sandy sophisms of Locke,' and after exploding Pope's\n_Essay on Man_, and showing the vanity of (Erasmus) Darwin's belief in\nan 'ourang-outang state,' and explaining the fall of man and the\n'scheme of redemption,' to have concluded by 'a grand didactic swell\non the identity of a true philosophy with true religion.' He would\nshow how life and intelligence were to be substituted for the\n'philosophy of mechanism.' Facts would be elevated into theory, theory\ninto laws, and laws into living and intelligent powers--true idealism\nnecessarily perfecting itself in realism, and realism refining itself\ninto idealism.'\n\nThe programme was a large one. If it represents what Coleridge\nseriously expected from Wordsworth, it also suggests that he was\nunconsciously wandering into an exposition of one of the gigantic but\nconstantly shifting schemes of a comprehensive philosophy, which he\nwas always proposing to execute. To try to speak of Coleridge\nadequately would be hopeless and out of place. I must briefly mention\nhim, because he was undoubtedly the most conspicuous representative of\nthe tendencies opposed to Utilitarianism. The young men who found\nBentham exasperating imbibed draughts of mingled poetry and philosophy\nfrom Coleridge's monologues at Hampstead. Carlyle has told us, in a\nfamous chapter of his _Life of Sterling_, what they went out to see:\nat once a reed shaken by the wind and a great expounder of\ntranscendental truth. The fact that Coleridge exerted a very great\ninfluence is undeniable. To define precisely what that influence was\nis impossible. His writings are a heap of fragments. He contemplated\ninnumerable schemes for great works, and never got within measurable\ndistance of writing any. He poured himself out indefinitely upon the\nmargins of other men's books; and the piety of disciples has collected\na mass of these scattered and incoherent jottings, which announce\nconclusions without giving the premises, or suggest difficulties\nwithout attempting to solve them. He seems to have been almost as\nindustrious as Bentham in writing; but whereas Bentham's fragments\ncould be put together as wholes, Coleridge's are essentially\ndistracted hints of views never really elaborated. He was always\nthinking, but seems always to be making a fresh start at any point\nthat strikes him for the moment. Besides all this, there is the\npainful question of plagiarism. His most coherent exposition (in the\n_Biographia Literaria_) is simply appropriated from Schelling, though\nhe ascribes the identity to a 'genial coincidence' of thought. I need\nmake no attempt to make out what Coleridge really thought for himself,\nand then to try to put his thoughts together,--and indeed hold the\nattempt to be impossible. The most remarkable thing is the apparent\ndisproportion between Coleridge's definite services to philosophy and\nthe effect which he certainly produced upon some of his ablest\ncontemporaries. That seems to prove that he was really aiming at some\nimportant aspect of truth, incapable as he may have been of\ndefinitively reaching it. I can only try to give a hint or two as to\nits general nature. Coleridge, in the first place, was essentially a\npoet, and, moreover, his poetry was of the type most completely\ndivorced from philosophy. Nobody could say more emphatically that\npoetry should not be rhymed logic; and his most impressive poems are\nsimply waking dreams. They are spontaneous incarnations of sensuous\nimagery, which has no need of morals or definite logical schemes.\nAlthough he expected Wordsworth to transmute philosophy into poetry,\nhe admitted that the achievement would be unprecedented. Even in\nLucretius, he said, what was poetry was not philosophy, and what was\nphilosophy was not poetry. Yet Coleridge's philosophy was essentially\nthe philosophy of a poet. He had, indeed, great dialectical\ningenuity--a faculty which may certainly be allied with the highest\nimagination, though it may involve certain temptations. A poet who has\nalso a mastery of dialectics becomes a mystic in philosophy. Coleridge\nhad, it seems, been attracted by Plotinus in his schooldays. At a\nlater period he had been attracted by Hartley, Berkeley, and\nPriestley. To a brilliant youth, anxious to be in the van of\nintellectual progress, they represented the most advanced theories.\nBut there could never be a full sympathy between Coleridge and the\nforefathers of English empiricism; and he went to Germany partly to\nstudy the new philosophy which was beginning to shine--though very\nfeebly and intermittingly--in England. When he had returned he began\nto read Kant and Schelling, or rather to mix excursions into their\nbooks with the miscellaneous inquiries to which his versatile\nintellect attracted him.\n\nNow, it is abundantly clear that Coleridge never studied any\nphilosophy systematically. He never acquired a precise acquaintance\nwith the technical language of various schemes, or cared for their\nprecise logical relations to each other. The 'genial coincidence' with\nSchelling, though an unlucky phrase, represents a real fact. He dipped\ninto Plotinus or Behmen or Kant or Schelling, or any one who\ninterested him, and did not know whether they were simply embodying\nideas already in his own mind, or suggesting new ideas; or, what was\nprobably more accurate, expressing opinions which, in a general way,\nwere congenial to his own way of contemplating the world. His power of\nstimulating other minds proves sufficiently that he frequently hit\nupon impressive and suggestive thoughts. He struck out illuminating\nsparks, but he never diffused any distinct or steady daylight. His\nfavourite position, for example, of the distinction between the Reason\nand the Understanding is always coming up and being enforced with the\nstrongest asseverations of its importance. That he had adopted it more\nor less from Kant is obvious, though I imagine it to be also obvious\nthat he did not clearly understand his authority.[635] To what,\nprecisely, it amounts is also unintelligible to me. Somehow or other,\nit implies that the mind can rise into transcendental regions, and,\nleaving grovelling Utilitarians and the like to the conduct of the\nunderstanding in matters of practical expediency, can perceive that\nthe universe is in some way evolved from the pure reason, and the mind\ncapable of ideas which correspond to stages of the evolution. How this\nleads to the conclusions that the Christian doctrines of the Logos and\nthe Trinity are embodiments of pure philosophy is a problem upon which\nI need not touch. When we have called Coleridge a mystic, with flashes\nof keen insight into the weakness of the opposite theory, I do not see\nhow we are to get much further, or attribute to him any articulate and\ndefinite scheme.\n\nHopelessly unsystematic as Coleridge may have been, his significance\nin regard to the Utilitarians is noteworthy. It is indicated in a\nfamous article which J. S. Mill contributed to the _Westminster\nReview_ in March 1840.[636] Mill's concessions to Coleridge rather\nscandalised the faithful; and it is enough to observe here that it\nmarks the apogee of Mill's Benthamism. Influences, of which I shall\nhave to speak, had led him to regard his old creed as imperfect, and\nto assent to great part of Coleridge's doctrine. Mill does not discuss\nthe metaphysical or theological views of the opposite school, though\nhe briefly intimates his dissent. But it is interesting to observe how\nColeridge impressed a disciple of Bentham. The 'Germano-Coleridgian\ndoctrine,' says Mill, was a reaction against the philosophy of the\neighteenth century: 'ontological,' 'conservative,' 'religious,'\n'concrete and historical,' and finally 'poetical,' because the other\nwas 'experimental,' 'innovative,' 'infidel,' 'abstract and\nmetaphysical,' and 'matter-of-fact and prosaic.' Yet the two\napproximate, and each helps to restore the balance and comes a little\nnearer to a final equilibrium. The error of the French philosophers\nhad been their negative and purely critical tendency. They had thought\nthat it was enough to sweep away superstition, priestcraft, and\ndespotism, and that no constructive process was necessary. They had\nnot perceived the necessity of social discipline, of loyalty to\nrulers, or of patriotic feeling among the subjects. They had,\ntherefore, entirely failed to recognise the historical value of old\ncreeds and institutions, and had tried to remodel society 'without the\nbinding forces which hold society together.'[637] Hence, too, the\n_philosophes_ came to despise history; and D'Alembert is said to have\nwished that all record of past events could be blotted out. Their\ntheory, in its popular version at least, came to be that states and\nchurches had been got up 'for the sole purpose of picking people's\npockets.'[638] This had become incredible to any intelligent reasoner,\nand any Tory could prove that there was something good in the past.\nThe peculiarity of the 'Germano-Coleridgian' school was that they saw\nbeyond the immediate controversy. They were the first to inquire with\nany power into 'the inductive laws of the existence and growth of\nhuman society'; the first to recognise the importance of the great\nconstructive principles; and the first to produce not a piece of party\nadvocacy, but 'a philosophy of society in the only form in which it is\nyet possible, that of a philosophy of history.' Hence arose that\n'series of great writers and thinkers, from Herder to Michelet,' who\nhave given to past history an intelligible place in the gradual\nevolution of humanity.[639] This very forcible passage is interesting\nin regard to Mill, and shows a very clear perception of some defects\nin his own philosophy. It also raises an important question.\n\nAccepting Mill's view, it is remarkable that the great error of his\nown school, which professed to be based upon experience, was the\nrejection of history; and the great merit of the _a priori_ and\n'intuitionist' school was precisely their insistence upon history. To\nthis I shall have to return hereafter. Meanwhile, Mill proceeds to\nshow how Coleridge, by arguing from the 'idea' of church and state,\nhad at least recognised the necessity of showing that political and\nsocial institutions must have a sufficient reason, and be justified by\nsomething more than mere obstinate prejudice. Men like Pitt and Sir\nRobert Peel, if they accepted Coleridge's support, would have to alter\ntheir whole position. Coleridge's defence of his ideal church was at\nonce the severest satire upon the existing body and a proof, as\nagainst Bentham and Adam Smith, of the advantages of an endowed class\nfor the cultivation and diffusion of learning. Coleridge, moreover,\nthough he objected to the Reform Bill, showed himself a better\nreformer than Lord John Russell. He admitted what the Whigs refused to\nsee, the necessity of diminishing the weight of the landowner\ninterest. Landowners were not to be ultimate sources of power, but to\nrepresent one factor in a reasoned system. In short, by admitting that\nall social arrangements in some sense were embodiments of reason, he\nadmitted that they must also be made to conform to reason.\n\nColeridge and Bentham, then, are not really enemies but allies, and\nthey wield powers which are 'opposite poles of one great force of\nprogression.'[640] The question, however, remains, how the philosophy\nof each leader is really connected with his practical conclusions.\nMill's view would apparently be that Coleridge somehow managed to\ncorrect the errors or fill the gaps of the Utilitarian system--a very\nnecessary task, as Mill admits--while Coleridge would have held that\nthose errors were the inevitable fruit of the whole empirical system\nof thought. The Reason must be restored to its rightful supremacy over\nthe Understanding, which had been working its wicked will since the\ndays of Locke and eighteenth century. The problem is a wide one. I\nmust be content to remark the inevitable antithesis. Whether enemies\nor allies, the Utilitarians and their antagonists were separated by a\ngulf which could not be bridged for the time. The men of\ncommon-sense, who had no philosophy at all, were shocked by the\nimmediate practical applications of Utilitarianism, its hostility to\nthe old order which they loved, its apparent helplessness in social\nquestions, its relegation of all progress to the conflict of selfish\ninterests, its indifference to all the virtues associated with\npatriotism and local ties. By more reflective minds, it was condemned\nas robbing the world of its poetry, stifling the religious emotions,\nand even quenching sentiment in general. The few who wished for a\nphilosophy found the root of its errors in the assumptions which\nreduced the world to a chaos of atoms, outwardly connected and\ncombined into mere dead mechanism. The world, for the poet and the\nphilosopher alike, must be not a congeries of separate things, but in\nsome sense a product of reason. Thought, not fact, must be the\nultimate reality. Unfortunately or otherwise, the poetical sentiment\ncould never get itself translated into philosophical theory.\nColeridge's random and discursive hints remained mere hints--a\nsuggestion at best for future thought. Mill's criticism shows how far\nthey could be assimilated by a singularly candid Utilitarian. To him,\nwe see, they represented mainly the truth that his own party,\nfollowing the general tendency of the eighteenth century, had been led\nto neglect the vital importance of the constructive elements of\nsociety; that they had sacrificed order to progress, and therefore\nconfounded progress with destruction, and failed to perceive the real\nimportance in past times even of the institutions which had become\nobsolete. Social atomism or individualism, therefore, implied a total\nmisconception of what Mill calls the 'evolution of humanity.' This\nmarks a critical point. The 'Germano-Coleridgians' had a theory of\nevolution. By evolution, indeed, was meant a dialectical evolution;\nthe evolution of 'ideas' or reason, in which each stage of history\nrepresents a moment of some vast and transcendental process of\nthought. Evolution, so understood, seemed rightly or wrongly to be\nmere mysticism or intellectual juggling. It took leave of fact, or\nmanaged by some illegitimate process to give to a crude generalisation\nfrom experience the appearance of a purely logical deduction. In this\nshape, therefore, it was really opposed to science, although the time\nwas to come in which evolution would present itself in a scientific\nform.[641] Meanwhile, the concessions made by J. S. Mill were not\napproved by his fellows, and would have been regarded as little short\nof treason by the older Utilitarians. The two schools, if Coleridge's\nfollowers could be called a school, regarded each other's doctrines as\nsimply contradictory. In appealing to experience and experience alone,\nthe Utilitarians, as their opponents held, had reduced the world to a\ndead mechanism, destroyed every element of cohesion, made society a\nstruggle of selfish interests, and struck at the very roots of all\norder, patriotism, poetry, and religion. They retorted that their\ncritics were blind adherents of antiquated prejudice, and sought to\ncover superstition and despotism either by unprovable dogmatic\nassertions, or by taking refuge in a cloudy mystical jargon, which\nreally meant nothing.\n\nThey did not love each other.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[610] See _Dictionary of National Biography_, under 'George Grote.'\nBentham's MS. is in the British Museum, and shows, I think, that\nGrote's share in the work was a good deal more than mere editing. I\nquote from a reprint by Truelove (1875). It was also privately\nreprinted by Grote himself in 1866.\n\n[611] Cf. Hobbes's definition: 'Fear of power invisible feigned by the\nmind, or imagined from tales publicly allowed, [is] Religion: not\nallowed, Superstition. And when the power imagined is truly such as we\nimagine, True Religion.'--_Works_ (Molesworth), iii. 45.\n\n[612] 'Philip Beauchamp,' ch. ii. pp. 11-15.\n\n[613] _Ibid._ p. 17.\n\n[614] 'Philip Beauchamp,' p. 21.\n\n[615] _Ibid._ pp. 22 and 104.\n\n[616] 'Philip Beauchamp,' ch. iii.\n\n[617] 'Philip Beauchamp,' ch. iv.\n\n[618] _Ibid._ p. 45, ch. v.\n\n[619] _Ibid._ p. 52, ch. vi.\n\n[620] 'Philip Beauchamp,' ch. viii.\n\n[621] _Ibid._ part ii. ch. i.\n\n[622] _Ibid._ p. 80, part ii. ch. ii.\n\n[623] 'Philip Beauchamp,' pp. 97, 99.\n\n[624] _Ibid._ p. 101.\n\n[625] _Ibid._ p. 103.\n\n[626] 'Philip Beauchamp,' p. 163.\n\n[627] _Ibid._ p. 122.\n\n[628] The writers were Chalmers, Kidd, Whewell, Sir Charles Bell,\nRoget, Buckland, Kirby, and Prout. The essays appeared from 1833 to\n1835. The versatile Brougham shortly afterwards edited Paley's\n_Natural Theology_.\n\n[629] 'Philip Beauchamp,' p. 88.\n\n[630] Froude's _Carlyle_, i. 215; ii. 93.\n\n[631] Mill's _Dissertations_, i. 235; ii. 130.\n\n[632] George Borrow's vehement dislike of Scott as the inventor of\nPuseyism and modern Jesuitism of all kinds is characteristic.\n\n[633] _Prelude_, bk. xiii.\n\n[634] Coleridge's _Letters_ (1890), pp. 643-49.\n\n[635] Mr. Hutchison Stirling insists upon this in the _Fortnightly\nReview_ for July 1867. He proves, I think, that Coleridge's knowledge\nof the various schemes of German philosophy and of the precise\nrelation of Kant, Fichte, and Schelling was altogether desultory and\nconfused. How far this is important depends upon whether we attach\nmuch or little importance to precise combinations of words used by\nthese philosophers.\n\n[636] _Dissertations_, i. 392-474.\n\n[637] _Ibid._ i. 424.\n\n[638] _Dissertations_, i. 437.\n\n[639] _Ibid._ i. 425-27.\n\n[640] _Dissertations_, i. 437.\n\n[641] Coleridge's _Hints towards the Formation of a more Comprehensive\nTheory of Life_, edited by S. B. Watson, in 1848, is a curious attempt\nto apply his evolution doctrine to natural science. Lewes, in his\n_Letters on Comte's Philosophy of the Sciences_, says that it is a\n'shameless plagiarism' from Schelling's _Erster Entwurf_, etc. It\nseems, as far as I can judge, that Coleridge's doctrines about\nmagnetism, reproduction, irritability, sensibility, etc., are, in\nfact, adapted from Schelling. The book was intended, as Mr. E. H.\nColeridge tells me, for a chapter in a work on Scrophula, projected by\nGillman. As Coleridge died long before the publication, he cannot be\ndirectly responsible for not acknowledging obligations to Schelling.\nUnfortunately he cannot claim the benefit of a good character in such\nmatters. Anyhow, Coleridge's occasional excursions into science can\nonly represent a vague acceptance of the transcendental method\nrepresented, as I understand, by Oken.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPrinted by T. and A. Constable, Printers to her Majesty at the\nEdinburgh University Press","title":"The English Utilitarians, Volume 2 (of 3): James Mill","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":107781}