of Homer lies. The poet can only take advantage of ugliness so far as
it is reduced in his description into the less repugnant appearance of
bodily imperfection, and ceases, as it were, in point of effect, to be
ugliness. Thus, what he cannot make use of by itself he can use as the
ingredient for the purpose of producing and strengthening certain mixed
sensations.
These mixed feelings are the ridiculous and the horrible. Homer makes
Thersites ugly in order to make him ridiculous. He is not made so,
however, merely by his ugliness, for ugliness is an imperfection, and
the contrast of perfection with imperfections is required to produce
the ridiculous. To this I may add that the contrast must not be too
sharp and glaring, and that the contrasts must blend into each other.
The wise and virtuous Æsop does not become ridiculous because of
ugliness attributed to him. For his misshapen body and beautiful
mind are as oil and vinegar; however much you shake them together,
they always remain distinct to the taste. They will not amalgamate
to produce a third quality. The body produces annoyance; the soul,
pleasure; each has its own effect.
It is only when the deformed body is also fragile and, sickly, when it
impedes the soul, that the annoyance and pleasure melt into each other.
For, let us suppose that the instigations of the malicious and snarling
Thersites had resulted in mutiny, that the people had forsaken their
leaders and departed in the ships, and that these leaders had been
massacred by a revengeful foe. How would the ugliness of Thersites
appear then? If ugliness, when harmless, may be ridiculous, when
hurtful it is always horrible. In Shakespeare's "King Lear," Edmund,
the bastard Count of Gloucester, is no less a villain than Richard,
Duke of Gloucester, in "King Richard III." How is it, then, that the
first excites our loathing so much less than the second? It is because
when I hear the former, I listen to a devil, but see him as an angel of
light; but in listening to Richard I hear a devil and see a devil.
JOHN STUART MILL
Essay on Liberty
Ten years elapsed between the publication of "Political Economy"
(see Vol. XIV, p. 294) and the "Essay on Liberty," Mill in the
meantime (1851) having married Mrs. John Taylor, a lady who
exercised no small influence on his philosophical position.
The seven years of his married life saw little or nothing from
his pen. The "Essay on Liberty," in many respects the most
carefully prepared of all his books, appeared in 1859, the
year following the death of his wife, in collaboration with
whom it was thought out and partly written. The treatise goes
naturally with that on "Utilitarianism." Both are succinct and
incisive in their reasoning, and both are grounded on similar
sociological principles. Perhaps the primary problem of politics
in all ages has been the reconciliation of individual and social
interests; and at the present day, when the problem appears to
be particularly troublesome, Mill's view of the situation is
of especial value. In recent time, legislation has certainly
tended to become more socialistic, and the doctrine of individual
liberty promulgated in this "Essay" has a most interesting
relevancy to modern social movements.
_I.--Liberty of Thought and Discussion_
Protection against popular government is as indispensable as protection
against political despotism. The people may desire to oppress a part
of their number, and precautions are needed against this as against
any other abuse of power. So much will be readily granted by most, and
yet no attempt has been made to find the fitting adjustment between
individual independence and social control.
The object of this essay is to assert the simple principle that the
sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively,
in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number
is self-protection--that the only purpose for which power can be
rightfully exercised over any member of a civilised community,
against his will, is to prevent harm to others, either by his action
or inaction. The only part of the conduct of anyone for which he is
amenable to society is that which concerns others. In the part which
merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over
himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.
This principle requires, firstly, liberty of conscience in the most
comprehensive sense, liberty of thought and feeling; absolute freedom
of opinion and sentiment on all subjects, practical or speculative,
scientific, moral, or theological--the liberty even of publishing
and expressing opinions. Secondly, the principle requires liberty
of tastes and pursuits; of framing the plan of our life to suit
our own character; of doing as we like, so long as we do not harm
our fellow-creatures. Thirdly, the principle requires liberty of
combination among individuals for any purpose not involving harm to
others, provided the persons are of full age and not forced or deceived.
The only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own
good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others
of theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it. Mankind gains more
by suffering each other to live as seems good to themselves than by
compelling each to live as seems good to the rest.
Coercion in matters of thought and discussion must always be
illegitimate. If all mankind save one were of one opinion, mankind
would be no more justified in silencing the solitary individual than
he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind. The
peculiar evil of silencing the expression of opinion is that it is
robbing the whole human race, present and future--those who dissent
from the opinion even more than those who hold it. For if the opinion
is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for
truth; and if wrong, they lose the clear and livelier impression of
truth produced by its collision with error.
All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility, and,
as all history teaches, neither communities nor individuals are
infallible. Men cannot be too often reminded of the condemnation of
Socrates and of Christ, and of the persecution of the Christians by the
noble-minded Marcus Aurelius.
Enemies of religious freedom maintain that persecution is a good thing,
for, even though it makes mistakes, it will root out error while it
cannot extirpate truth. But history shows that even if truth cannot be
finally extirpated, it may at least be put back centuries.
We no longer put heretics to death; but we punish heresies with a
social stigma almost as effective, since it may debar men from earning
their bread. Social intolerance does not actually eradicate heresies,
but it induces men to hide unpopular opinions. The result is that new
and heretical opinions smoulder in the narrow circles of thinking and
studious persons who originate them, and never light up the general
affairs of mankind with either a true or deceptive light. The price
paid for intellectual pacification is the sacrifice of the entire moral
courage of the human race. Who can compute what the world loses in the
multitude of promising intellects too timid to follow out any bold,
independent train of thought lest it might be considered irreligious
or immoral? No one can be a great thinker who does not follow his
intellect to whatever conclusions it may lead. In a general atmosphere
of mental slavery a few great thinkers may survive, but in such an
atmosphere there never has been, and never will be, an intellectually
active people; and all progress in the human mind and in human
institutions may be traced to periods of mental emancipation.
Even if an opinion be indubitably true and undoubtingly believed, it
will be a dead dogma, and not a living truth, if it be not fully,
frequently, and fearlessly discussed. If the cultivation of the
understanding consists of one thing more than another, it is surely in
learning the grounds of one's own opinions, and these can only be fully
learned by facing the arguments that favour the opposite opinions. He
who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that. Unless he
knows the difficulties which his truth has to encounter and conquer,
he knows little of the force of his truth. Not only are the grounds of
an opinion unformed or forgotten in the absence of discussion, but too
often the very meaning of the opinion. When the mind is not compelled
to exercise its powers on the questions which its belief presents to
it, there is a progressive tendency to forget all of the belief except
the formularies, until it almost ceases to connect itself at all with
the inner life of the human being. In such cases a creed merely stands
sentinel at the entrance of the mind and heart to keep them empty,
as is so often seen in the case of the Christian creed as at present
professed.
So far we have considered only two possibilities--that the received
opinion may be false and some other opinion consequently true, or that,
the received opinion being true, a conflict with the opposite error is
essential to a clear apprehension and deep feeling of the truth. But
there is a commoner case still, when conflicting doctrines share the
truth, and when the heretical doctrine completes the orthodox. Every
opinion which embodies somewhat of the portion of the truth which the
common opinion omits, ought to be considered precious with whatever
amount of error and confusion it may be conjoined. In politics,
again, it is almost a commonplace that a party of order or stability,
and a party of progress or reform, are both necessary factors in a
healthy political life. Unless opinions favourable to democracy and
to aristocracy, to property, and to equality, to co-operation and to
competition, to sociality and to individuality, to liberty and to
discipline, and all the other standing antagonisms of practical life
are expressed with equal freedom, and enforced and defended with equal
talent and energy, there is no chance of both elements obtaining their
due. Truth is usually reached only by the rough process of a struggle
between combatants fighting under hostile banners.
It may be objected, "But _some_ received principles, especially on
the highest and most vital subjects, are more than half-truths."
This objection is not sound. Even the Christian morality is, in many
important points, incomplete and one-sided, and unless ideas and
feelings not sanctioned by it had constituted to the formation of
European life and character, human affairs would have been in a worse
condition than they now are.
_II.--Individuality as One of the Elements of Well-Being_
We have seen that opinions should be freely formed and freely
expressed. How about _actions_? If a man refrains from molesting others
in what concerns him, and merely acts according to his own inclination
and judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons which
show that opinion should be free prove also that he should be allowed
to carry his opinions into action. As it is useful that while mankind
are imperfect there should be different opinions, so it is useful that
there should be different experiments of living, that free scope should
be given to varieties of character short of injury to others, and that
the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically. It
is desirable, in short, that in things which do not primarily concern
others, individuality should assert itself. When, not the person's own
character, but the traditions or customs of other people are the rule
of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human
happiness and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social
progress.
No one's idea of excellence in conduct is that people should do
absolutely nothing but copy one another. On the other hand, it would
be absurd to pretend that people ought to live as if experience had
as yet done nothing towards showing that one mode of existence or of
conduct is preferable to another. No one denies that people should be
so taught and trained in youth as to know and benefit by the results of
human experience. But it is the privilege of a mature man to use and
interpret experience in his own way. He who lets the world, or his own
portion of it, choose his plan of life for him has no need of any other
faculty than the ape-like one of imitation. He, on the other hand, who
chooses his plan for himself, employs all his faculties--reasoning,
foresight, activity, discrimination, resolution, self-control. We wish
not automatons, but living, originating men and women.
So much will be readily conceded, but nevertheless it may be
maintained that strong desires and passions are a peril and a snare.
Yet it is desires and impulses which constitute character, and one
with no desires and impulses of his own has no more character than
a steam-engine. An energetic character implies strong, spontaneous
impulses under the control of a strong will; and such characters
are desirable, since the danger which threatens modern society is
not excess but deficiency of personal impulses and preferences.
Everyone nowadays asks: what is usually done by persons of my station
and pecuniary circumstances, or (worse still) what is usually done
by persons of a station and circumstances superior to mine? The
consequence is that, through failure to follow their own nature, they
have no nature to follow; their human capacities are withered and
starved, and are incapable of any strong pleasures or opinions properly
their own.
It is not by pruning away the individual but by cultivating it wisely
that human beings become valuable to themselves and to others, and that
human life becomes rich, diversified, and interesting. Individuality is
equivalent to development, and in proportion to the latitude given to
individuality an age becomes noteworthy or the reverse.
Unfortunately, the general tendency of things is to render mediocrity
the ascendant power. At present, individuals are lost in the crowd,
and it is almost a triviality to say that public opinion now rules the
world. And public opinion is the opinion of collective mediocrity, and
is expressed by mediocre men. The initiation of all wise and noble
opinions must come from individuals, and the individuality of those who
stand on the higher eminences of thought is necessary to correct the
tendency that makes mankind acquiesce in customary and popular opinions.
_III.--The Limits of the Authority of Society Over the Individual_
Where, then, does the authority of society begin? How much of human
life should be assigned to individuality, and how much to society?
To individuality should belong that part of life in which it is chiefly
the individual that is interested; to society, the part which chiefly
interests society.
Society, in return for the protection it affords its members, and as a
condition of its existence, demands, firstly, that its members respect
the rights of one another; and, secondly, that each person bear his
share of the labours and sacrifices incurred in defending society for
its members. Further, society may punish acts of an individual hurtful
to others, even if not a violation of rights, by the force of public
opinion.
But in all cases where a person's conduct affects or need only affect
himself, society may not interfere. Society may help individuals in
their personal affairs, but neither one person, nor any number of
persons, is warranted in saying to any human creature that he may not
use his own life, so far as it concerns himself, as he pleases. He
himself is the final judge of his own concerns, and the inconveniences
which are strictly inseparable from the unfavourable judgment of others
are the only ones to which a person should ever be subjected for that
portion of his conduct and character which affects his own good, but
which does not affect the interests of others.
But how, it may be asked, can any part of the conduct of a member of
society be a matter of indifference to the other members?
I fully confess that the mischief which a person does to himself may
seriously affect those nearly connected with him, and even society
at large. But such contingent and indirect injury should be endured
by society for the sake of the greater good of human freedom, and
because any attempt at coercion in private conduct will merely produce
rebellion on the part of the individual coerced. Moreover, when
society interferes with purely personal conduct, the odds are that it
interferes wrongly, and in the wrong places, as the pages of history
and the records of legislation abundantly demonstrate.
Closely connected with the question of the limitations of the
authority of society over the individual is the question of government
participation in industrial and other enterprises generally undertaken
by individuals.
There are three main objections to the interference of the state in
such matters. In the first place, the matter may be better managed
by individuals than by the government. In the second place, though
individuals may not do it so well as government might, yet it is
desirable that they should do it, as a means of their own mental
education. In the third place, it is undesirable to add to the power
of the government. If roads, railways, banks, insurance offices, great
joint-stock companies, universities, public charities, municipal
corporations, and local boards were all in the government service,
and if the employees in these look to the government for promotion,
not all the freedom of the Press and the popular constitution of the
legislature would make this or any other country free otherwise than
in name. And, for various reasons, the better qualified the heads and
hands of the government officials, the more detrimental would the rule
of the government be. Such a government would inevitably degenerate
into a pedantocracy monopolising all the occupations which form and
cultivate the faculties required for the government of mankind.
To find the best compromise between individuals and the state is
difficult, but I believe the ideal must combine the greatest possible
dissemination of power consistent with efficiency, and the greatest
possible centralisation and diffusion of information.
JOHN MILTON
Areopagitica
It has been said of "Areopagitica, a Speech of Mr. John Milton
for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing to the Parliament of
England," that it is "the piece that lies more surely than
any other at the very heart of our prose literature." In 1637
the Star Chamber issued a decree regulating the printing,
circulation, and importation of books, and on June 14, 1643, the
Long Parliament published an order in the same spirit. Milton
(see Vol. XVII) felt that what had been done in the days of
repression and tyranny was being continued under the reign of
liberty, and that the time for protest had arrived. Liberty was
the central principle of Milton's faith. He regarded it as the
most potent, beneficent, and sacred factor in human progress; and
he applied it all round--to literature, religion, marriage, and
civic life. His "Areopagitica," published in November, 1644, was
an application of the principle to literature that has remained
unanswered. The word "Areopagitica" is derived from Areopagus,
the celebrated open-air court in Athens, whose decision in
matters of public importance was regarded as final.
_I.--The Right of Appeal_
It is not a liberty which we can hope, that no grievance ever should
arise in the Commonwealth--that let no man in this world expect; but
when complaints are freely heard, deeply considered, and speedily
reformed, then is the utmost bound of civil liberty attained that wise
men look for. To which we are already in good part arrived; and this
will be attributed first to the strong assistance of God our Deliverer,
next to your faithful guidance and undaunted wisdom, Lords and Commons
of England.
If I should thus far presume upon the meek demeanour of your civil and
gentle greatness, Lords and Commons, as to gainsay what your published
Order hath directly said, I might defend myself with ease out of those
ages to whose polite wisdom and letters we owe that we are not yet
Goths and Jutlanders. Such honour was done in those days to men who
professed the study of wisdom and eloquence that cities and signiories
heard them gladly, and with great respect, if they had aught in public
to admonish the state.
When your prudent spirit acknowledges and obeys the voice of reason
from what quarter soever it be heard speaking, I know not what
should withhold me from presenting ye with a fit instance wherein
to show, both that love of truth which ye eminently profess, and
that uprightness of your judgment which is not wont to be partial to
yourselves, by judging over again that Order which ye have ordained to
regulate printing: that no book, pamphlet, or paper shall be henceforth
printed unless the same be first approved and licensed by such, or at
least one of such, as shall be thereto appointed.
I shall lay before ye, first, that the inventors of licensing books
be those whom ye will be loth to own; next, what is to be thought in
general of reading, whatever sort the books be; last, that it will
be primely to the discouragement of all learning and the stop of
truth. I deny not that it is of greatest concernment in the Church and
commonwealth to have a vigilant eye how books demean themselves, as
well as men. For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a
potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny
they are.
Nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction
of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively and
as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth; and, being
sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the
other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill
a good book. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is
the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up
on purpose to life beyond life. 'Tis true, no age can restore a life,
whereof perhaps there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not
oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole
nations fare the worse.
We should be wary, therefore, how we spill that seasoned life of man,
preserved and stored up in books, since we see a kind of homicide may
be thus committed, that strikes at that ethereal essence, the breath of
reason itself, and slays an immortality rather than a life.
_II.--The History of Repression_
In Athens, where books and wits were ever busier than in any other part
of Greece, I find but only two sorts of writings which the magistrate
cared to take notice of--those either blasphemous and atheistical, or
libellous. The Romans, for many ages trained up only to a military
roughness, knew of learning little. There libellous authors were
quickly cast into prison, and the like severity was used if aught were
impiously written. Except in these two points, how the world went in
books the magistrate kept no reckoning.
By the time the emperors were become Christians, the books of those
whom they took to be grand heretics were examined, refuted, and
condemned in the general councils, and not till then were prohibited.