MILL ON GOVERNMENT.(1)

(_Edinburgh Review_, March 1829.)

Of {5}those philosophers who call themselves Utilitarians, and whom

others generally call Benthamites, Mr. Mill is, with the exception of

the illustrious founder of the sect, by far the most distinguished. The

little work now before us contains a summary of the opinions held by

this gentleman and his brethren on several subjects most important to

society. All the seven essays of which it consists abound in curious

matter. But at present we intend to confine our remarks to the Treatise

on Government, which stands first in the volume. On some future

occasion, we may perhaps attempt to do justice to the rest.

It must be owned that to do justice to any composition of Mr. Mill is

not, in the opinion of his admirers, a very easy task. They do not,

indeed, place him in the same rank with Mr. Bentham; but the terms in

which they extol the disciple, though feeble when compared with the

hyperboles of adoration employed by

(1) _Essays on Government, Jurisprudence, the Liberty of the

Press, Prisons and Prison Discipline, Colonies, the Law of

Nations, and Education_, By James Mill, Esq., author of the

History of British India. Reprinted by permission from the

Supplement to the Encyclopædia Britannica. (Not for sale.)

London, 1828.

{6}them in speaking of the master, are as strong as any sober man would

allow himself to use concerning Locke or Bacon. The essay before us

is perhaps the most remarkable of the works to which Mr. Mill owes

his fame. By the members of his sect, it is considered as perfect and

unanswerable. Every part of it is an article of their faith; and

the damnatory clauses, in which their creed abounds far beyond any

theological symbol with which we are acquainted, are strong and

full against all who reject any portion of what is so irrefragably

established. No man, they maintain, who has understanding sufficient

to carry him through the first proposition of Euclid, can read this

master-piece of demonstration and honestly declare that he remains

unconvinced.

We have formed a very different opinion of this work. We think that the

theory of Mr. Mill rests altogether on false principles, and that even

on those false principles he does not reason logically. Nevertheless,

we do not think it strange that his speculations should have filled the

Utilitarians with admiration. We have been for some time past inclined

to suspect that these people, whom some regard as the lights of the

world and others as incarnate demons, are in general ordinary men, with

narrow understandings and little information. The contempt which they

express for elegant literature is evidently the contempt of ignorance.

We apprehend that many of them are persons who, having read little

or nothing, are delighted to be rescued from the sense of their own

inferiority by some teacher who assures them that the studies which

they have neglected are of no value, puts five or six phrases into their

mouths, lends them an odd number of the Westminster Review, and in

a month {7}transforms them into philosophers. Mingled with these

smatterers, whose attainments just suffice to elevate them from the

insignificance of dunces to the dignity of bores, and to spread dismay

among their pious aunts and grandmothers, there are, we well know,

many well-meaning men who have really read and thought much; but whose

reading and meditation have been almost exclusively confined to one

class of subjects; and who, consequently, though they possess much

valuable knowledge respecting those subjects, are by no means so

well qualified to judge of a great system as if they had taken a more

enlarged view of literature and society.

Nothing is more amusing or instructive than to observe the manner in

which people who think themselves wiser than all the rest of the world

fall into snares which the simple good sense of their neighbours detects

and avoids. It is one of the principal tenets of the Utilitarians that

sentiment and eloquence serve only to impede the pursuit of truth. They

therefore affect a quakerly plainness, or rather a cynical negligence

and impurity, of style. The strongest arguments, when clothed in

brilliant language, seem to them so much wordy nonsense. In the mean

time they surrender their understandings, with a facility found in no

other party, to the meanest and most abject sophisms, provided those

sophisms come before them disguised with the externals of demonstration.

They do not seem to know that logic has its illusions as well as

rhetoric,--that a fallacy may lurk in a syllogism as well as in a

metaphor.

Mr. Mill is exactly the writer to please people of this description.

His arguments are stated with the utmost affectation of precision; his

divisions are awfully {8}formal; and his style is generally as dry as

that of Euclid’s Elements. Whether this be a merit, we must be permitted

to doubt. Thus much is certain: that the ages in which the true

principles of philosophy were least understood were those in which the

ceremonial of logic was most strictly observed, and that the time from

which we date the rapid progress of the experimental sciences was also

the time at which a less exact and formal way of writing came into use.

The style which the Utilitarians admire suits only those subjects on

which it is possible to reason _a priori_ It grew up with the verbal

sophistry which flourished during the dark ages. With that sophistry it

fell before the Baconian philosophy in the day of the great deliverance

of the human mind. The inductive method not only endured but required

greater freedom of diction. It was impossible to reason from phenomena

up to principles, to mark slight shades of difference in quality, or to

estimate the comparative effect of two opposite considerations between

which there was no common measure, by means of the naked and meagre

jargon of the schoolmen. Of those schoolmen Mr. Mill has inherited

both the spirit and the style. He is an Aristotelian of the fifteenth

century, born out of due season. We have here an elaborate treatise on

Government, from which, but for two or three passing allusions, it

would not appear that the author was aware that any governments actually

existed among men. Certain propensities of human nature are assumed;

and from these premises the whole science of politics is synthetically

deduced! We can scarcely persuade ourselves that we are not reading a

book written before the time of Bacon and Galileo,--a book {9}written in

those days in which physicians reasoned from the nature of heat to the

treatment of fever, and astronomers proved syllogistically that the

planets could have no independent motion,--because the heavens were

incorruptible, and nature abhorred a vacuum!

The reason, too, which Mr. Mill has assigned for taking this course

strikes us as most extraordinary.

“Experience,” says he, “if we look only at the outside of the facts,

appears to be _divided_ on this subject. Absolute monarchy, under Neros

and Caligulas, under such men as the Emperors of Morocco and Sultans of

Turkey, is the scourge of human nature. On the other side, the people of

Denmark, tired out with the oppression of an aristocracy, resolved that

their king should be absolute; and, under their absolute monarch, are as

well governed as any people in Europe.”

This Mr. Mill actually gives as a reason for pursuing the _a priori_

method. But, in our judgment, the very circumstances which he mentions

irresistibly prove that the _a priori_ method is altogether unfit for

investigations of this kind, and that the only way to arrive at the

truth is by induction. _Experience_ can never be divided, or even appear

to be divided, except with reference to some hypothesis. When we say

that one fact is inconsistent with another fact, we mean only that it is

inconsistent with _the theory_ which we have founded on that other fact.

But, if the fact be certain, the unavoidable conclusion is that our

theory is false; and, in order to correct it, we must reason back from

an enlarged collection of facts to principles.

Now here we have two governments which, by Mr. Mill’s own account, come

under the same head in his _theoretical_ classification. It is evident,

therefore, that, {10}by reasoning on that theoretical classification,

we shall be brought to the conclusion that these two forms of government

must produce the same effects. But Mr. Mill himself tells us that they

do not produce the same effects. Hence he infers that the only way to

get at truth is to place implicit confidence in that chain of proof _a

priori_ from which it appears that they must produce the same effects!

To believe at once in a theory and in a fact which contradicts it is

an exercise of faith sufficiently hard: but to believe in a theory

_because_ a fact contradicts it is what neither philosopher nor pope

ever before required. This, however, is what Mr. Mill demands of us. He

seems to think that, if all despots, without exception, governed ill,

it would be unnecessary to prove, by a synthetical argument, what would

then be sufficiently clear from experience. But, as some despots will be

so perverse as to govern well, he finds himself compelled to prove the

impossibility of their governing well by that synthetical argument

which would have been superfluous had not the facts contradicted it. He

reasons _a priori_, because the phenomena are not what, by reasoning

_a priori_, he will prove them to be. In other words, he reasons _a

priori_, because, by so reasoning, he is certain to arrive at a false

conclusion!

In the course of the examination to which we propose to subject the

speculations of Mr. Mill we shall have to notice many other curious

instances of that turn of mind which the passage above quoted indicates.

The first chapter of his Essay relates to the ends of government. The

conception on this subject, he tells us, which exists in the minds of

most men is vague and undistinguishing. He first assumes, justly

enough, that the end of government is “to increase to the utmost {11}the

pleasures, and diminish to the utmost the pains, which men derive

from each other.” He then proceeds to show, with great form, that “the

greatest possible happiness of society is attained by insuring to every

man the greatest possible quantity of the produce of his labour.” To

effect this is, in his opinion, the end of government. It is remarkable

that Mr. Mill, with all his affected display of precision, has here

given a description of the ends of government far less precise than that

which is in the mouths of the vulgar. The first man with whom Mr. Mill

may travel in a stage coach will tell him that government exists for the

protection of the _persons_ and property of men. But Mr. Mill seems to

think that the preservation of property is the first and only object. It

is true, doubtless, that many of the injuries which are offered to the

persons of men proceed from a desire to possess their property. But the

practice of vindictive assassination as it has existed in some parts of

Europe--the practice of fighting wanton and sanguinary duels, like those

of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, in which bands of seconds

risked their lives as well as the principals;--these practices, and many

others which might be named, are evidently injurious to society; and

we do not see how a government which tolerated them could be said “to

diminish to the utmost the pains which men derive from each other.”

Therefore, according to Mr. Mill’s very correct assumption, such a

government would not perfectly accomplish the end of its institution.

Yet such a government might, as far as we can perceive, “insure to

every man the greatest possible quantity of the produce of his labour.”

Therefore such a government might, according to Mr. Milks subsequent

doctrine, perfectly accomplish the end of its institution. {12}The

matter is not of much consequence, except as an instance of that

slovenliness of thinking which is often concealed beneath a peculiar

ostentation of logical neatness.

Having determined the ends, Mr. Mill proceeds to consider the means.

For the preservation of property-some portion of the community must be

intrusted with power. This is Government; and the question is, how are

those to whom the necessary power is intrusted to be prevented from

abusing it?

Mr. Mill first passes in review the simple forms of government. He

allows that it would be inconvenient, if not physically impossible, that

the whole community should meet in a mass; it follows, therefore, that

the powers of government cannot be directly exercised by the people. But

he sees no objection to pure and direct Democracy, except the difficulty

which we have mentioned.

“The community,” says he, “cannot have an interest opposite to its

interests. To affirm this would be a contradiction in terms. The

community within itself, and with respect to itself, can have no

sinister interest. One community may intend the evil of another;

never its own. This is an indubitable proposition, and one of great

importance.”

Mr. Mill then proceeds to demonstrate that a purely aristocratical form

of government is necessarily bad.

“_The reason for which government exists is, that one man, if stronger

than another, will take from him whatever that other possesses and he

desires. But if one man will do this, so will several. And if powers

are put into the hands of a comparatively small number, called an

aristocracy,--powers which make them stronger than the rest of the

community, they will take from the rest of the community as much as they

please of the objects {13}of desire. They will thus defeat the very end

for whieh government was instituted. The unfitness, therefore, of an

aristocracy to be intrusted with the powers of government, rests on

demonstration_.”

In exactly the same manner Mr. Mill proves absolute monarchy to be a bad

form of government.

“_If government is founded upon this as a law of human nature, that a

man, if able, will take from others any thing which they have and he

desires, it is sufficiently evident, that when a man is called a king he

does not change his nature; so that when he has got power to enable him

to take from every man whatever he pleases, he will take whatever he

pleases. To suppose that he will not, is to affirm that government

is unnecessary, and that human beings will abstain from injuring one

another of their own accord.

“It is very evident that this reasoning extends to every modification of

the smaller number. Whenever the powers of government are placed in any

hands other than those of the community, whether those of one man, of

a few, or of several, those principles of human nature which imply that

government is at all necessary, imply that those persons will make use

of them to defeat the very end for which government exists._”

But is it not possible that a king or an aristocracy may soon be

saturated with the objects of their desires, and may then protect

the community in the enjoyment of the rest? Mr. Mill answers in the

negative. He proves, with great pomp, that every man desires to have the

actions of every other correspondent to his will. Others can be induced

to conform to our will only by motives derived from pleasure or from

pain. The infliction of pain is of course direct injury; and, even if it

take the milder course, in order to produce obedience by motives derived

from pleasure, the government must confer favours. But, as there is

no limit to its desire of obedience, there will be no limit to its

disposition to confer favours; and, as it can confer favours {14}only

by plundering the people, there will be no limit to its disposition to

plunder the people. “It is therefore not true that there is in the mind

of a king, or in the minds of an aristocracy, any point of saturation

with the objects of desire.”

Mr. Mill then proceeds to show that, as monarchical and oligarchical

governments can influence men by motives drawn from pain, as well as by

motives drawn from pleasure, they will carry their cruelty, as well as

their rapacity, to a frightful extent. As he seems greatly to admire his

own reasonings on this subject, we think it but fair to let him speak

for himself.

“_The chain of inference in this ease is close and strong to a most

unusual degree. A man desires that the actions of other men shall be

instantly and accurately correspondent to his will. He desires that the

actions of the greatest possible number shall be so. Terror is the grand

instrument. Terror can work only through assurance that evil will follow

any failure of conformity between the will and the actions willed. Every

failure must therefore be punished. As there are no bounds to the mind’s

desire of its pleasure, there are, of course, no bounds to its desire of

perfection in the instruments of that pleasure. There are, therefore, no

bounds to its desire of exactness in the conformity between its will and

the actions willed; and by consequence to the strength of that terror

which is its procuring cause. Every the most minute failure must

be visited with the heaviest infliction; and as failure in extreme

exactness must frequently happen, the occasions of cruelty must be

incessant.

“We have thus arrived at several conclusions of the highest possible

importance. We have seen that the principle of human nature, upon which

the necessity of government is founded, the propensity of one man to

possess himself of the objects of desire at the cost of another, leads

on, by infallible sequence, where power over a community is attained,

and nothing checks, not only to that degree of plunder which leaves the

members (excepting always the recipients and instruments of the plunder)

the bare means of subsistence, but to that degree of cruelty which is

necessary to keep in existence the most intense terrors._” {15}Now, no

man who has the least knowledge of the real state of the world, either

in former ages or at the present moment, can possibly be convinced,

though he may perhaps be bewildered, by arguments like these.

During the last two centuries, some hundreds of absolute princes have

reigned in Europe Is it true, that their cruelty has kept in existence

the most intense degree of terror; that their rapacity has left no

more than the bare means of subsistence to any of their subjects, their

ministers and soldiers excepted? Is this true of all of them? Of one

half of them? Of one tenth part of them? Of a single one? Is it true, in

the full extent, even of Philip the Second, of Louis the Fifteenth, or

of the Emperor Paul? But it is scarcely necessary to quote history. No

man of common sense, however ignorant he may be of books, can be imposed

on by Mr. Mill’s argument I because no man of common sense can live

among his fellow-creatures for a day without seeing innumerable facts

which contradict it. It is our business, however, to point out its

fallacy; and happily the fallacy is not very recondite.

We grant that rulers will take as much as they can of the objects of

their desires; and that, when the agency of other men is necessary to

that end, they will attempt by all means in their power to enforce

the prompt obedience of such men. But what are the objects of human

desire? Physical pleasure, no doubt, in part. But the mere appetites

which we have in common with the animals would be gratified almost as

cheaply and easily as those of the animals are gratified, if nothing

were given to taste, to ostentation, or to the affections. How small a

portion of the income of a gentleman in easy circumstances is laid

out merely in {16}giving pleasurable sensations to the body of the

possessor! The greater part even of what is spent on his kitchen and his

cellar goes, not to titillate his palate, but to keep up his character

for hospitality, to save him from the reproach of meanness in

housekeeping, and to cement the ties of good neighbourhood. It is clear

that a king or an aristocracy may be supplied to satiety with mere

corporal pleasures, at an expense which the rudest and poorest community

would scarcely feel.

Those tastes and propensities which belong to us as reasoning and

imaginative beings are not indeed so easily gratified. There is, we

admit, no point of saturation with objects of desire which come under

this head. And therefore the argument of Mr. Mill will be just, unless

there be something in the nature of the objects of desire themselves

which is inconsistent with it. Now, of these objects there is none which

men in general seem to desire more than the good opinion of others. The

hatred and contempt of the public are generally felt to be

intolerable. It is probable that our regard for the sentiments of our

fellow-creatures springs, by association, from a sense of their ability

to hurt or to serve us. But, be this as it may, it is notorious that,

when the habit of mind of which we speak has once been formed, men feel

extremely solicitous about the opinions of those by whom it is most

improbable, nay, absolutely impossible, that they should ever be in the

slightest degree injured or benefited. The desire of posthumous fame and

the dread of posthumous reproach and execration are feelings from the

influence of which scarcely any man is perfectly free, and which in many

men are powerful and constant motives of action. As we are afraid

that, if we handle this part of the argument after our own manner, we

{17}shall incur the reproach of sentimentality, a word which, in the

sacred language of the Benthamites, is synonymous with idiocy, we will

quote what Mr. Mill himself says on the subject, in his Treatise on

Jurisprudence.

“_Pains from the moral source are the pains derived from the

unfavourable sentiments of mankind.... These pains are capable of rising

to a height with which hardly any other pains incident to our nature

can be compared. There is a certain degree of unfavourableness in the

sentiments of his fellow-creatures, under which hardly any man, not

below the standard of humanity, can endure to live.

“The importance of this powerful agency, for the prevention of injurious

acts, is too obvious to need to be illustrated. If sufficiently at

command, it would almost supersede the use of other means....

“To know how to direct the unfavourable sentiments of mankind, it is

necessary to know in as complete, that is, in as comprehensive, a way as

possible, what it is which gives them birth. Without entering into the

metaphysics of the question, it is a sufficient practical answer, for

the present purpose, to say that the unfavourable sentiments of man are

excited by every thing which hurts them._”

It is strange that a writer who considers the pain derived from the

unfavourable sentiments of others as so acute that, if sufficiently at

command, it would supersede the use of the gallows and the tread-mill,

should take no notice of this most important restraint when discussing

the question of government. We will attempt to deduce a theory of

politics in the mathematical form, in which Mr. Mill delights, from the

premises with which he has himself furnished us.

Proposition I. Theorem.

No rulers will do any thing which may hurt the people. {18}This is the

thesis to be maintained: and the following we humbly offer to Mr. Mill,

as its syllogistic demonstration.

No rulers will do that which produces pain to themselves.

But the unfavourable sentiments of the people will give pain to them.

Therefore no rulers will do any thing which may excite the unfavourable

sentiments of the people.

But the unfavourable sentiments of the people are excited by every thing

which hurts them.

Therefore no rulers will do any thing which may hurt the people. Which

was the thing to be proved.

Having thus, as we think, not unsuccessfully imitated Mr. Mill’s logic,

we do not see why we should not imitate, what is at least equally

perfect in its kind, his self-complacency, and proclaim our _Evonka_

in his own words: “The chain of inference, in this case, is close and

strong to a most unusual degree.”

The fact is, that, when men, in treating of things which cannot be

circumscribed by precise definitions, adopt this mode of reasoning, when

once they begin to talk of power, happiness, misery, pain, pleasure,

motives, objects of desire, as they talk of lines and numbers, there is

no end to the contradictions and absurdities into which they fall. There

is no proposition so monstrously untrue in morals or politics that we

will not undertake to prove it, by something which shall sound like a

logical demonstration, from admitted principles.

Mr. Mill argues that, if men are not inclined to plunder each other,

government is unnecessary; and that, if they are so inclined, the

powers of government, when entrusted to a small number of them, will

necessarily {19}be abused. Surely it is not by propounding dilemmas of

this sort that we are likely to arrive at sound conclusions in any

moral science. The whole question is a question of degree. If all men

preferred the moderate approbation of their neighbours to any degree

of wealth or grandeur, or sensual pleasure, government would be

unnecessary. If all men desired wealth so intensely as to be willing

to brave the hatred of their fellow-creatures for sixpence, Mr. Mill’s

argument against monarchies and aristocracies would be true to the full

extent. But the fact is, that all men have some desires which impel them

to injure their neighbours, and some desires which impel them to benefit

their neighbours. Now, if there were a community consisting of two

classes of men, one of which should be principally influenced by the one

set of motives and the other by the other, government would clearly be

necessary to restrain the class which was eager for plunder and

careless of reputation: and yet the powers of government might be

safely intrusted to the class which was chiefly actuated by the love

of approbation. Now, it might with no small plausibility be maintained

that, in many countries, _there are_ two classes which, in some degree,

answer to this description; that the poor compose the class which

government is established to restrain, and the people of some property

the class to which the powers of government may without danger be

confided. It might be said that a man who can barely earn a livelihood

by severe labour is under stronger temptations to pillage others than a

man who enjoys many luxuries. It might be said that a man who is lost in

the crowd is less likely to have the fear of public opinion before his

eyes than a man whose station and mode of living render him conspicuous.

We do {20}not assert all this. We only say that it was Mr. Mill’s

business to prove the contrary; and that, not having proved the

contrary, he is not entitled to say, “that those principles which imply

that government is at all necessary, imply that an aristocracy will make

use of its power to defeat the end for which governments exist.” This

is not true, unless it be true that a rich man is as likely to covet the

goods of his neighbours as a poor man, and that a poor man is as likely

to be solicitous about the opinions of his neighbours as a rich man.

But we do not see that, by reasoning _a priori_ on such subjects as

these, it is possible to advance one single step. We know that every man

has some desires which he can gratify only by hurting his neighbours,

and some which he can gratify only by pleasing them. Mr. Mill has chosen

to look only at one-half of human nature, and to reason on the motives

which impel men to oppress and despoil others, as if they were the only

motives by which men could possibly be influenced. We have already shown

that, by taking the other half of the human character, and reasoning

on it as if it were the whole, we can bring out a result diametrically

opposite to that at which Mr. Mill has arrived. We can, by such a

process, easily prove that any form of government is good, or that all

government is superfluous.

We must now accompany Mr. Mill on the next stage of his argument. Does

any combination of the three simple forms of government afford the

requisite securities against the abuse of power? Mr. Mill complains

that those who maintain the affirmative generally beg the question;

and proceeds to settle the point by proving, after his fashion, that

no combination of the three simple forms, or of any two of them, can

possibly exist. {21}”_From the principles which we have already laid

down it follows that, of the objects of human desire, and, speaking more

definitely, of the means to the ends of human desire, namely, wealth and

power, each party will endeavour to obtain as much as possible.

“If any expedient presents itself to any of the supposed parties

effectual to this end, and not opposed to any preferred object of

pursuit, we may infer with certainty that it will be adopted. One

effectual expedient is not more effectual than obvious. Any two of the

parties, by combining, may swallow up the third. That such combination

will take place appears to be as certain as any thing which depends upon

human will; because there are strong motives in favour of it, and none

that can be conceived in opposition to it.... The mixture of three of

the kinds of government, it is thus evident, cannot possibly exist....

It may be proper to inquire whether an union may not be possible of two

of them....

“Let us first suppose, that monarchy is united with aristocracy. Their

power is equal or not equal. If it is not equal, it follows, as a

necessary consequence, from the principles which we have already

established, that the stronger will take from the weaker till it

engrosses the whole. The only question therefore is, What will happen

when the power is equal?

“In the first place, it seems impossible that such equality should ever

exist. How is it to be established? or, by what criterion is it to be

ascertained? If there is no such criterion, it must, in all eases, be

the result of chance. If so, the chances against it are as infinity to

one. The idea, therefore, is wholly chimerical and absurd....

“In this doctrine of the mixture of the simple forms of government is

included the celebrated theory of the balance among the component parts

of a government. By this it is supposed that, when a government is

composed of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, they balance one

another, and by mutual checks produce good government. A few words will

suffice to show that, if any theory deserves the epithets of ‘wild,

visionary and chimerical,’ it is that of the balance. If there are three

powers, how is it possible to prevent two of them from combining to

swallow up the third?

“The analysis which we have already performed will enable us to trace

rapidly the concatenation of causes and effects in this imagined case.

{22}"We have already seen that the interest of the community, considered

in the aggregate or in the democratical point of view, is, that each

individual should receive protection; and that the powers which are

constituted for that purpose should be employed exclusively for that

purpose.... We have also seen that the interest of the king and of the

governing aristocracy is directly the reverse. It is to have unlimited

power over the rest of the community, and to use it for their own

advantage. In the supposed case of the balance of the monarchical,

aristocratical, and democratical powers, it cannot be for the interest

of either the monarchy or the aristocracy to combine with the democracy;

because it is the interest of the democracy, or community at large, that

neither the king nor the aristocracy should have one particle of power,

or one particle of the wealth of the community, for their own advantage.

“The democracy or community have all possible motives to endeavour to

prevent the monarchy and aristocracy from exercising power, or obtaining

the wealth of the community for their own advantage. The monarchy

and aristocracy have all possible motives for endeavouring to obtain

unlimited power over the persons and property of the community. The

consequence is inevitable: they have all possible, motives for combining

to obtain that power_.”

If any part of this passage be more eminently absurd than another, it

is, we think, the argument by which Mr. Mill proves that there cannot

be an union of monarchy and aristocracy. Their power, he says, must be

equal or not equal. But of equality there is no criterion. Therefore the

chances against its existence are as infinity to one. If the power be

not equal, then it follows, from the principles of human nature, that

the stronger will take from the weaker, till it has engrossed the whole.

Now, if there be no criterion of equality between two portions of power

there can be no common measure of portions of power. Therefore it is

utterly impossible to compare them together. But where two {23}portions

of lower are of the same kind, there is no difficulty in ascertaining,

sufficiently for all practical purposes, whether they are equal or

unequal. It is easy to judge whether two men run equally fast, or can

lift equal weights. Two arbitrators, whose joint decision is to be

final, and neither of whom can do any thing without the assent of the

other, possess equal power. Two electors, each of whom has a vote for a

borough, possess, in that respect, equal power. If not, all Mr. Mill’s

political theories fall to the ground at once. For, if it be impossible

to ascertain whether two portions of power are equal, he never can show

that, even under a system of universal suffrage, a minority might not

carry every thing their own way, against the wishes and interests of the

majority.

Where there are two portions of power differing in kind, there is, we

admit, no criterion of equality. But then, in such a case, it is absurd

to talk, as Mr. Mill does, about the stronger and the weaker. Popularly,

indeed, and with reference to some particular objects, these words

may very fairly be used. But to use them mathematically is altogether

improper. If we are speaking of a boxing-match, we may say that some

famous bruiser has greater bodily power than any man in England. If

we are speaking of a pantomime, we may say the same of some very agile

harlequin. But it would be talking nonsense to say, in general, that the

power of Harlequin either exceeded that of the pugilist, or fell short

of it.

If Mr. Mill’s argument be good as between different branches of a

legislature, it is equally good as between sovereign powers. Every

government, it may be said, will, if it can, take the objects of its

desires from every other. If the French government can subdue England

{24}it will do so. If the English government can subdue France it will

do so. But the power of England and France is either equal or not equal.

The chance that it is not exactly equal is as infinity to one, and may

safely be left out of the account; and then the stronger will infallibly

take from the weaker till the weaker is altogether enslaved.

Surely the answer to all this hubbub of unmeaning words is the plainest

possible. For some purposes France is stronger than England. For some

purposes England is stronger than France. For some, neither has any

power at all. France has the greater population, England the greater

capital; France has the greater army, England the greater fleet. For an

expedition to Rio Janeiro or the Philippines, England has the greater

power. For a war on the Po or the Danube, France has the greater power.

But neither has power sufficient to keep the other in quiet subjection

for a month. Invasion would be very perilous; the idea of complete

conquest on either side utterly ridiculous. This is the manly and

sensible way of discussing such questions. The _ergo_, or rather the

_argal_, of Mr. Mill cannot impose on a child. Yet we ought scarcely to

say this; for we remember to have heard _a child_ ask whether Bonaparte

was stronger than an elephant!

Mr. Mill reminds us of those philosophers of the sixteenth century who,

having satisfied themselves _a priori_ that the rapidity with which

bodies descended to the earth varied exactly as their weights, refused

to believe the contrary on the evidence of their own eyes and ears.

The British constitution, according to Mr. Mill’s classification, is

a mixture of monarchy and aristocracy; one House of Parliament being

composed of {25}hereditary nobles, and the other almost entirely chosen

by a privileged class who possess the elective franchise on account

of their property, or their connection with certain corporations. Mr.

Mill’s argument proves that, from the time that these two powers were

mingled in our government, that is, from the very first dawn of our

history, one or the other must have been constantly encroaching.

According to him, moreover, all the encroachments must have been on

one side. For the first encroachment could only have been made by the

stronger I and that first encroachment would have made the stronger

stronger still. It is, therefore, matter of absolute demonstration, that

either the Parliament was stronger than the Crown in the reign of Henry

VIII., or that the Crown was stronger than the Parliament in 1641.

“Hippocrate dira ce que lui plaira,” says the girl in Moliere; “mail

le cocher est mort.” Mr. Mill may say what he pleases; but the English

constitution is still alive. That since the Revolution the Parliament

has possessed great power in the state, is what nobody will dispute.

The King, on the other hand, can create new peers, and can dissolve

Parliaments. William sustained severe mortifications from the House of

Commons, and was, indeed, unjustifiably oppressed. Anne was desirous to

change a ministry which had a majority in both Houses. She watched her

moment for a dissolution, created twelve Tory peers, and succeeded.

Thirty years later, the House of Commons drove Walpole from his seat. In

1784, George III. was able to keep Mr. Pitt in office in the face of a

majority of the House of Commons. In 1804, the apprehension of a defeat

in Parliament compelled the same King to part from his most favoured

minister. But, in 1807, he was able to do {26}exactly what Anne had done

nearly a hundred years before. Now, had the power of the King increased

during the intervening century, or had it remained stationary? Is it

possible that the one lot among the infinite number should have fallen

to us? If not, Mr. Mill has proved that one of the two parties must have

been constantly taking from the other. Many of the ablest men in England

think that the influence of the Crown has, on the whole, increased since

the reign of Anne. Others think that the Parliament has been growing in

strength. But of this there is no doubt, that both sides possessed great

power then, and possess great power now. Surely, if there were the least

truth in the argument of Mr. Mill, it could not possibly be a matter of

doubt, at the end of a hundred and twenty years, whether the one side or

the other had been the gainer.

But we ask pardon. We forgot that a fact, irreconcilable with Mr. Mill’s

theory, furnishes, in his opinion, the strongest reason for adhering to

the theory. To take up the question in another manner, is it not plain

that there may be two bodies, each possessing a perfect and entire

power, which cannot be taken from it without its own concurrence? What

is the meaning of the words stronger and weaker, when applied to such

bodies as these? The one may, indeed, by physical force, altogether

destroy the other. But this is not the question. A third party, a

general of their own, for example, may, by physical force, subjugate

them both. Nor is there any form of government, Mr. Mill’s utopian

democracy not excepted, secure from such an occurrence. We are speaking

of the powers with which the constitution invests the two branches of

the legislature: and we ask Mr. Mill how, on his own principles, he can

{27}maintain that one of them will be able to encroach on the other, if

the consent of the other be necessary to such encroachment?

Mr. Mill tells us that, if a government be composed of the three simple

forms, which he will not admit the British constitution to be, two of

the component parts will inevitably join against the third. Now, if two

of them combine and act as one, this case evidently resolves itself into

the last; and all the observations which we have just made will fully

apply to it. Mr. Mill says, that “any two of the parties, by combining,

may swallow up the third;” and afterwards asks, “How it is possible to

prevent two of them from combining to swallow up the third?” Surely Mr.

Mill must be aware that in politics two is not always the double of

one. If the concurrence of all the three branches of the legislature be

necessary to every law, each branch will possess constitutional power

sufficient to protect it against any thing but that physical force

from which no form of government is secure. Mr. Mill reminds us of the

Irishman, who could not be brought to understand how one juryman could

possibly starve out eleven others.

But is it certain that two of the branches of the legislature will

combine against the third? “It appears to be as certain,” says Mr. Mill,

“as any thing which depends upon human will; because there are strong

motives in favour of it, and none that can be conceived in opposition to

it.” He subsequently sets forth what these motives are. The interest

of the democracy is that each individual should receive protection. The

interest of the King and the aristocracy is to have all the power that

they can obtain, and to use it for their own ends. Therefore the King

and the {28}aristocracy have all possible motives for combining against

the people. If our readers will look back to the passage quoted above,

they will see that we represent Mr. Mill’s argument quite fairly.

Now we should have thought that, without the help of either history

or experience, Mr. Mill would have discovered, by the light of his own

logic, the fallacy which lurks, and indeed scarcely lurks, under this

pretended demonstration. The interest of the King may be opposed to that

of the people. But is it identical with that of the aristocracy? In the

very page which contains this argument, intended to prove that the King

and the aristocracy will coalesce against the people, Mr. Mill attempts

to show that there is so strong an opposition of interest between the

King and the aristocracy that if the powers of government are divided

between them the one will inevitably usurp the power of the other. If

so, he is not entitled to conclude that they will combine to destroy the

power of the people merely because their interests may be at variance

with those of the people. He is bound to show, not merely that in

all communities the interest of a king must be opposed to that of the

people, but also that, in all communities, it must be more directly

opposed to the interest of the people than to the interest of the

aristocracy. But he has not shown this. Therefore he has not proved

his proposition on his own principles. To quote history would be a mere

waste of time. Every schoolboy, whose studies have gone so far as the

Abridgments of Goldsmith, can mention instances in which sovereigns have

allied themselves with the people against the aristocracy, and in which

the nobles have allied themselves with the people against the sovereign.

In general, when there are three parties {29}every one of which has much

to fear from the others, it is not found that two of them combine to

plunder the third. If such a combination be formed it scarcely ever

effects its purpose. It soon becomes evident which member of the

coalition is likely to be the greater gainer by the transaction. He

becomes an object of jealousy to his ally, who, in all probability,

changes sides, and compels him to restore what he has taken. Everybody

knows how Henry VIII. trimmed between Francis and the Emperor Charles.

But it is idle to cite examples of the operation of a principle which is

illustrated in almost every page of history, ancient or modern, and to

which almost every state in Europe has, at one time or another, been

indebted for its independence.

Mr. Mill has now, as he conceives, demonstrated that the simple forms

of government are bad, and that the mixed forms cannot possibly exist.

There is still, however, it seems, a hope for mankind.

“_In the grand discovery of modern times, the system of representation,

the solution of all the difficulties, both speculative and practical,

will perhaps be found. If it cannot, we seem to be forced upon the

extraordinary conclusion, that good government is impossible. For,

as there is no individual or combination of individuals, except the

community itself, who would not have an interest in bad government if

intrusted with its powers, and as the community itself is incapable of

exercising those powers, and must intrust them to certain individuals,

the conclusion is obvious: the community itself must check those

individuals; else they will follow their interest, and produce bad

government. But how is it the community can cheek? The community can act

only when assembled; and when assembled, it is incapable of acting. The

community, however, can choose representatives_.”

The next question is--How must the representative body be constituted?

Mr. Mill lays down two principles, {30}about which, he says, “it is

unlikely that there will be any dispute.”

“First, The checking body must haye a degree of power sufficient for the

business of checking.”

“Secondly, It must have an identity of interest with the community.

Otherwise, it will make a mischievous use of its power.”

The first of these propositions certainly admits of no dispute. As to

the second, we shall hereafter take occasion to make some remarks on

the sense in which Mr. Mill understands the words “interest of the

community.”

It does not appear very easy, on Mr. Mill’s principles, to find out any

mode of making the interest of the representative body identical with

that of the constituent body. The plan proposed by Mr. Mill is simply

that of very frequent election. “As it appears,” says he, “that limiting

the duration of their power is a security against the sinister interest

of the people’s representatives, so it appears that it is the only

security of which the nature of the case admits.” But all the arguments

by which Mr. Mill has proved monarchy and aristocracy to be pernicious

will, as it appears to us, equally prove this security to be no security

at all. Is it not clear that the representatives, as soon as they are

elected, are an aristocracy, with an interest opposed to the interest of

the community? Why should they not pass a law for extending the term of

their power from one year to ten years, or declare themselves senators

for life? If the whole legislative power is given to them, they will be

constitutionally competent to do this. If part of the legislative power

is withheld from them, to whom is that part given? Is the people

to retain it, and to express its assent or dissent in primary

{31}assemblies? Mr. Mill himself tells us that the community can only

act when assembled, and that, when assembled, it is incapable of acting.

Or is it to be provided, as in some of the American republics, that no

change in the fundamental laws shall be made without the consent of

a convention, specially elected for the purpose? Still the difficulty

recurs: Why may not the members of the convention betray their trust, as

well as the members of the ordinary legislature? When private men,

they may have been zealous for the interests of the community. When

candidates, they may have pledged themselves to the cause of the

constitution. But, as soon as they are a convention, as soon as they

are separated from the people, as soon as the supreme power is put into

their hands, commences that interest opposite to the interest of the

community which must, according to Mr. Mill, produce measures opposite

to the interests of the community. We must find some other means,

therefore, of checking this check upon a check; some other prop to carry

the tortoise, that carries the elephant, that carries the world.

We know well that there is no real danger in such a case. But there is

no danger only because there is no truth in Mr. Mill’s principles.

If men were what he represents them to be, the letter of the very

constitution which he recommends would afford no safeguard against bad

government. The real security is this, that legislators will be deterred

by the fear of resistance and of infamy from acting in the manner

which we have described. But restraints, exactly the same in kind, and

differing only in degree, exist in all forms of government. That broad

line of distinction which Mr. Mill tries to point out between monarchies

and aristocracies {32}on the one side, and democracies on the other,

has in fact no existence. In no form of government is there an absolute

identity of interest between the people and their rulers. In every form

of government, the rulers stand in some awe of the people. The fear of

resistance and the sense of shame operate, in a certain degree, on the

most absolute kings and the most illiberal oligarchies. And nothing but

the fear of resistance and the sense of shame preserves the freedom of

the most democratic communities from the encroachments of their annual

and biennial delegates.

We have seen how Mr. Mill proposes to render the interest of the

representative body identical with that of the constituent body. The

next question is, in what manner the interest of the constituent body is

to be rendered identical with that of the community. Mr. Mill shows that

a minority of the community, consisting even of many thousands, would be

a bad constituent body, and, indeed, merely a numerous aristocracy.

“The benefits of the representative system,” says he, “are lost, in all

cases in which the interests of the choosing body are not the same with

those of the community. It is very evident, that if the community itself

were the choosing body, the interest of the community and that of the

choosing body would be the same.”

On these grounds Mr. Mill recommends that all males of mature age, rich

and poor, educated and ignorant, shall have votes. But why not the women

too? This question has often been asked in parliamentary debate, and has

never, to our knowledge, received a plausible answer. Mr. Mill escapes

from it as fast as he can. But we shall take the liberty to dwell a

little on the words of the oracle. “One thing,” says he, “is {33}pretty

clear, that all those individuals whose interests are involved in those

of other individuals, may be struck off without inconvenience.... In

this light women may be regarded, the interest of almost all of whom is

involved either in that of their fathers, or in that of their husbands.”

If we were to content ourselves with saying, in answer to all the

arguments in Mr. Mill’s essay, that the interest of a king is involved

in that of the community, we should be accused, and justly, of talking

nonsense. Yet such an assertion would not, as far as we can perceive,

be more unreasonable than that which Mr. Mill has here ventured to make.

Without adducing one fact, without taking the trouble to perplex the

question by one sophism, he placidly dogmatises away the interest of one

half of the human race. If there be a word of truth in history, women

have always been, and still are, over the greater part of the globe,

humble companions, playthings, captives, menials, beasts of burden.

Except in a few happy and highly civilised communities, they are

strictly in a state of personal slavery. Even in those countries where

they are best treated, the laws are generally unfavourable to them,

with respect to almost all the points in which they are most deeply

interested.

Mr. Mill is not legislating for England or the United States; but for

mankind. Is then the interest of a Turk the same with that of the girls

who compose his harem? Is the interest of a Chinese the same with that

of the woman whom he harnesses to his plough? Is the interest of an

Italian the same with that of the daughter whom he devotes to God?

The interest of a respectable Englishman may be said, without any

impropriety, to be identical with that of his wife. But {34}why is it

so? Because human nature is _not_ what Mr. Mill conceives it to be;

because civilised men, pursuing their own happiness in a social state,

are not Yahoos fighting for carrion; because there is a pleasure in

being loved and esteemed, as well as in being feared and servilely

obeyed. Why does not a gentleman restrict his wife to the bare

maintenance which the law would compel him to allow her, that he may

have more to spend on his personal pleasures? Because, if he loves her,

he has pleasure in seeing her pleased; and because, even if he dislikes

her, he is unwilling that the whole neighbourhood should cry shame on

his meanness and ill-nature. Why does not the legislature, altogether

composed of males, pass a law to deprive women of all civil privileges

whatever, and reduce them to the state of slaves? By passing such a

law, they would gratify what Mr. Mill tells us is an inseparable part of

human nature, the desire to possess unlimited power of inflicting pain

upon others. That they do not pass such a law, though they have the

power to pass it, and that no man in England wishes to see such a law

passed, proves that the desire to possess unlimited power of inflicting

pain is not inseparable from human nature.

If there be in this country an identity of interest between the two

sexes, it cannot possibly arise from any thing but the pleasure of being

loved, and of communicating happiness. For, that it does not spring from

the mere instinct of sex, the treatment which women experience over the

greater part of the world abundantly proves. And, if it be said that our

laws of marriage have produced it, this only removes the argument a

step further; for those laws have been made by males. Now, if the kind

feelings of one half of the species be a sufficient security for the

happiness of the other, {35}why may not the kind feelings of a monarch

or an aristocracy he sufficient at least to prevent them from grinding

the people to the very utmost of their power?

If Mr. Mill will examine why it is that women are better treated in

England than in Persia, he may perhaps find out, in the course of

his inquiries, why it is that the Danes are better governed than the

subjects of Caligula.

We now come to the most important practical question in the whole essay.

Is it desirable that all males arrived at years of discretion should

vote for representatives, or should a pecuniary qualification be

required? Mr. Mill’s opinion is, that the lower the qualification the

better; and that the best system is that in which there is none at all.

“_The qualification,” says he, “must either be such as to embrace

the majority of the population, or something less than the majority.

Suppose, in the first place, that it embraces the majority, the question

is, whether the majority would have an interest in oppressing those

who, upon this supposition, would be deprived of political power? If we

reduce the calculation to its elements, we shall see that the interest

which they would have of this deplorable kind, though it would be

something, would not be very great. Each man of the majority, if the

majority were constituted the governing body, would have something less

than the benefit of oppressing a single man. If the majority were twice

as great as the minority, each man of the majority would only have one

half the benefit of oppressing a single man.... Suppose, in the second

place, that the qualification did not admit a body of electors so

large as the majority, in that case taking again the calculation in its

elements, we shall see that each man would have a benefit equal to

that derived from the oppression of more than one man; and that, in

proportion as the elective body constituted a smaller and smaller

minority, the benefit of misrule to the elective body would be

increased, and bad government would be insured_.”

The first remark which we have to make on this argument {36}is, that,

by Mr. Mill’s own account, even a government in which every human being

should vote would still be defective. For, under a system of universal

suffrage, the majority of the electors return the representative, and

the majority of the representatives make the law. The whole people may

vote, therefore; but only the majority govern. So that, by Mr. Mill’s

own confession, the most perfect system of government conceivable is one

in which the interest of the ruling body to oppress, though not great,

is something.

But is Mr. Mill in the right when he says that such an interest could

not be very great? We think not. If, indeed, every man in the community

possessed an equal share of what Mr. Mill calls the objects of desire,

the majority would probably abstain from plundering the minority. A

large minority would offer a vigorous resistance; and the property of

a small minority would not repay the other members of the community

for the trouble of dividing it. But it happens that in all civilised

communities there is a small minority of rich men, and a great majority

of poor men. If there were a thousand men with ten pounds apiece, it

would not be worth while for nine hundred and ninety of them to rob

ten, and it would be a bold attempt for six hundred of them to rob four

hundred. But, if ten of them had a hundred thousand pounds apiece, the

case would be very different. There would then be much to be got, and

nothing to be feared.

“That one human being will desire to render the person and property of

another subservient to his pleasures, notwithstanding the pain or

loss of pleasure which it may occasion to that other individual, is,”

according to Mr. Mill, “the foundation of government.” That the property

of the rich minority can be made subservient {37}to the pleasures of the

poor majority will scarcely be denied. But Mr. Mill proposes to give the

poor majority power over the rich minority. Is it possible to doubt to

what, on his own principles such an arrangement must lead?

It may perhaps be said that, in the long run, it is for the interest of

the people that property should be secure, and that therefore they will

respect it. We answer thus:--It cannot be pretended that it is not for

the immediate interest of the people to plunder the rich. Therefore,

even if it were quite certain that, in the long run, the people would,

as a body, lose by doing so, it would not necessarily follow that the

fear of remote ill consequences would overcome the desire of immediate

acquisitions. Every individual might flatter himself that the punishment

would not fall on him. Mr. Mill himself tells us, in his Essay on

Jurisprudence, that no quantity of evil which is remote and uncertain

will suffice to prevent crime.

But we are rather inclined to think that it would, on the whole, be

for the interest of the majority to plunder the rich. If so, the

Utilitarians will say, that the rich _ought_ to be plundered. We deny

the inference.

For, in the first place, if the object of government be the greatest

happiness of the greatest number, the intensity of the suffering which a

measure inflicts must be taken into consideration, as well as the

number of the sufferers. In the next place, we have to notice one

most important distinction which Mr. Mill has altogether overlooked.

Throughout his essay, he confounds the community with the species. He

talks of the greatest happiness of the greatest number: but, when we

examine his reasonings, we find that he thinks only of the greatest

number of a single generation. {38}Therefore, even if we were to concede

that all those arguments of which we have exposed the fallacy are

unanswerable, we might still deny the conclusion at which the essayist

arrives. Even if we were to grant that he had found out the form of

government which is best for the majority of the people now living on

the face of the earth, we might still without inconsistency maintain

that form of government to be pernicious to mankind. It would still be

incumbent on Mr. Mill to prove that the interest of every generation is

identical with the interest of all succeeding generations. And how on

his own principles he could do this we are at a loss to conceive.

The case, indeed, is strictly analogous to that of an aristocratic

government. In an aristocracy, says Mr. Mill, the few, being invested

with the powers of government, can take the objects of their desires

from the people. In the same manner, every generation in turn can

gratify itself at the expense of posterity,--priority of time, in the

latter case, giving an advantage exactly corresponding to that which

superiority of station gives in the former. That an aristocracy will

abuse its advantage, is, according to Mr. Mill, matter of demonstration.

Is it not equally certain that the whole people will do the same; that,

if they have the power, they will commit waste of every sort on the

estate of mankind, and transmit it to posterity impoverished and

desolated?

How is it possible for any person who holds the doctrines of Mr. Mill

to doubt that the rich, in a democracy such as that which he recommends,

would be pillaged as unmercifully as under a Turkish Pacha? It is no

doubt for the interest of the next generation, and it may be for the

remote interest of the present {39}generation, that property should be

held sacred. And so no doubt it will be for the interest of the next

Pacha, and even for that of the present Pacha, if he should hold office

long, that the inhabitants of his Pachalik should be encouraged to

accumulate wealth. Scarcely any despotic sovereign has plundered his

subjects to a large extent without having reason before the end of his

reign to regret it. Every body knows how bitterly Louis the Fourteenth,

towards the close of his life, lamented his former extravagance. If that

magnificent prince had not expended millions on Marli and Versailles,

and tens of millions on the aggrandisement of his grandson, he would

not have been compelled at last to pay servile court to low-born

money-lenders, to humble himself before men on whom, in the days of his

pride, he would not have vouchsafed to look, for the means of supporting

even his own household. Examples to the same effect might easily be

multiplied. But despots, we see, do plunder their subjects, though

history and experience tell them that, by prematurely exacting the means

of profusion, they are in fact devouring the seed-corn from which the

future harvest of revenue is to spring. Why then should we suppose

that the people will be deterred from procuring immediate relief and

enjoyment by the fear of distant calamities, of calamities which perhaps

may not be fully felt till the times of their grand-children?

These conclusions are strictly drawn from Mr. Mill’s own principles:

and, unlike most of the conclusions which he has himself drawn from

those principles, they are not, as far as we know, contradicted by

facts. The case of the United States is not in point. In a country where

the necessaries of life are cheap and the wages of labour high, where

a man who has no capital {40}but his legs and arms may expect to become

rich by industry and frugality, it is not very decidedly even for the

immediate advantage of the poor to plunder the rich; and the punishment

of doing so would very speedily follow the offence. But in countries

in which the great majority live from hand to mouth, and in which vast

masses of wealth have been accumulated by a comparatively small number,

the case is widely different. The immediate want is, at particular

seasons, craving, imperious, irresistible. In our own time it has

steeled men to the fear of the gallows, and urged them on the point of

the bayonet. And, if these men had at their command that gallows and

those bayonets which now scarcely restrain them, what is to be expected?

Nor is this state of things one which can exist only under a bad

government. If there be the least truth in the doctrines of the school

to which Mr. Mill belongs, the increase of population will necessarily

produce it everywhere. The increase of population is accelerated by good

and cheap government. Therefore, the better the government, the greater

is the inequality of conditions: and the greater the inequality of

conditions, the stronger are the motives which impel the populace to

spoliation. As for America, we appeal to the twentieth century.

It is scarcely necessary to discuss the effects which a general

spoliation of the rich would produce. It may indeed happen that, where

a legal and political system full of abuses is inseparably bound up with

the institution of property, a nation may gain by a single convulsion,

in which both perish together. The price is fearful. But, if, when the

shock is over, a new order of things should arise under which property

may enjoy security, the industry of individuals will soon {41}repair the

devastation. Thus we entertain no doubt that the Revolution was, on the

whole, a most salutary event for France. But would France have gained

if, ever since the year 1793, she had been governed by a democratic

convention? If Mr. Mill’s principles be sound, we say that almost her

whole capital would by this time have been annihilated. As soon as the

first explosion was beginning to be forgotten, as soon as wealth again

began to germinate, as soon as the poor again began to compare their

cottages and salads with the hotels and banquets of the rich, there

would have been another scramble for property, another maximum, another

general confiscation, another reign of terror. Four or five such

convulsions following each other, at intervals of ten or twelve years,

would reduce the most flourishing countries of Europe to the state of

Barbary or the Morea.

The civilised part of the world has now nothing to fear from the

hostility of savage nations. Once the deluge of barbarism has passed

over it, to destroy and to fertilise; and in the present state of

mankind we enjoy a full security against that calamity. That flood will

no more return to cover the earth. But is it possible that in the bosom

of civilisation itself may be engendered the malady which shall destroy

it? Is it possible that institutions may be established which, without

the help of earthquake, of famine, of pestilence, or of the foreign

sword, may undo the work of so many ages of wisdom and glory,

and gradually sweep away taste, literature, science, commerce,

manufactures, everything but the rude arts necessary to the support of

animal life? Is it possible that, in two or three hundred years, a few

lean and half-naked fishermen may divide with owls and foxes the ruins

of the {42}greatest European cities--may wash their nets amidst the

relics of’ her gigantic docks, and build their huts out of the capitals

of her stately cathedrals? If the principles of Mr. Mill he sound, we

say, without hesitation, that the form of government which he recommends

will assuredly produce all this. But, if these principles be unsound,

if the reasonings by which we have opposed them be just, the higher and

middling orders are the natural representatives of the human race.

Their interest may be opposed in some things to that of their poorer

contemporaries; but it is identical with that of the innumerable

generations which are to follow.

Mr. Mill concludes his essay, by answering an objection often made to

the project of universal suffrage--that the people do not understand

their own interests. We shall not go through his arguments on this

subject, because, till he has proved that it is for the interest of the

people to respect property, he only makes matters worse by proving that

they understand their interests. But we cannot refrain from treating our

readers with a delicious _bonne bouche_ of wisdom, which he has kept for

the last moment.

“_The opinions of that class of the people who are below the middle

rank are formed, and their minds are directed, by that intelligent, that

virtuous rank, who come the most immediately in contact with them, who

are in the constant habit of intimate communication with them, to whom

they fly for advice and assistance in all their numerous difficulties,

upon whom they feel an immediate and daily dependence in health and in

sickness, in infancy and in old age, to whom their children look up as

models for their imitation, whose opinions they hear daily repeated, and

account it their honour to adopt. There can be no doubt that the middle

rank, which gives to science, to art, and to legislation itself their

most distinguished ornaments, and is the chief source of all that has

exalted and refined human nature, is that portion of the community, of

which, if the basis of representation were {43}ever so far extended, the

opinion would ultimately decide. Of the people, beneath them, a vast

majority would be sure to be guided by their advice and example_.”

This single paragraph is sufficient to upset Mr. Mill’s theory. Will

the people act against their own interest? Or will the middle rank

act against its own interest? Or is the interest of the middle rank

identical with the interest of the people? If the people act according

to the directions of the middle rank, as Mr. Mill says that they

assuredly will, one of these three questions must be answered in

the affirmative. But, if any one of the three be answered in the

affirmative, his whole system falls to the ground. If the interest of

the middle rank be identical with that of the people, why should not

the powers of government be intrusted to that rank? If the powers of

government were intrusted to that rank, there would evidently be an

aristocracy of wealth; and “to constitute an aristocracy of wealth,

though it were a very numerous one, would,” according to Mr. Mill,

“leave the community without protection, and exposed to all the evils

of unbridled power.” Will not the same motives which induce, the middle

classes to abuse one kind of power induce them to abuse another? If

their interest be the same with that of the people they will govern the

people well. If it be opposite to that of the people they will advise

the people ill. The system of universal suffrage, therefore, according

to Mr. Mill’s own account, is only a device for doing circuitously what

a representative system, with, a pretty high qualification, would do

directly.

So ends this celebrated Essay. And such is this philosophy for which the

experience of three thousand years is to be discarded; this philosophy,

the professors {44}of which speak as if it had guided the world to the

knowledge of navigation and alphabetical writing; as if, before its

dawn, the inhabitants of Europe had lived in caverns and eaten each

other! We are sick, it seems, like the children of Israel, of the

objects of our old and legitimate worship. We pine for a new idolatry.

All that is costly and all that is ornamental in our intellectual

treasures must be delivered up, and cast into the furnace--and there

comes out this Calf!

Our readers can scarcely mistake our object in writing this article.

They will not suspect us of any disposition to advocate the cause of

absolute monarchy, or of any narrow form of oligarchy, or to exaggerate

the evils of popular government. Our object at present is, not so much

to attack or defend any particular system of polity, as to expose the

vices of a kind of reasoning utterly unfit for moral and political

discussions; of a kind of reasoning which may so readily be turned to

purposes of falsehood that it ought to receive no quarter, even when by

accident it may be employed on the side of truth.

Our objection to the essay of Mr. Mill is fundamental. We believe that

it is utterly impossible to deduce the science of government from the

principles of human nature.

What proposition is there respecting human nature which is absolutely

and universally true? We know of only one: and that is not only true,

but identical; that men always act from self-interest. This truism the

Utilitarians proclaim with as much pride as if it were new, and as much

zeal as if it were important. But in fact, when explained, it means

only that men, if they can, will do as they choose. When we see the

{45}actions of a man we know with certainty what he thinks his interest

to be. But it is impossible to reason with certainty from what _we_ take

to be his interest to his actions. One man goes without a dinner that he

may add a shilling to a hundred thousand pounds: another runs in debt

to give balls and masquerades. One man cuts his father’s throat to get

possession of his old clothes: another hazards his own life to save that

of an enemy. One man volunteers on a forlorn hope: another is drummed

out of a regiment for cowardice. Each of these men has, no doubt, acted

from self-interest. But we gain nothing by knowing this, except the

pleasure, if it be one, of multiplying useless words. In fact, this

principle is just as recondite and just as important as the great truth

that whatever is, is. If a philosopher were always to state facts in

the following form--“There is a shower: but whatever is, is; therefore,

there is a shower,”--his reasoning would be perfectly sound; but we

do not apprehend that it would materially enlarge the circle of human

knowledge. And it is equally idle to attribute any importance to a

proposition which, when interpreted, means only that a man had rather do

what he had rather do.

If the doctrine, that men always act from self-interest, be laid down in

any other sense than this--if the meaning of the word self-interest

be narrowed so as to exclude any one of the motives which may by

possibility act on any human being,--the proposition ceases to be

identical; but at the same time it Rases to be true.

What we have said of the word “self-interest” applies to all the

synonymes and circumlocutions which are employed to convey the same

meaning; pain and pleasure, happiness and misery, objects of desire, and

so forth. {46}The whole art of Mr. Mill’s essay consists in one simple

trick of legerdemain. It consists in using words of the sort which we

have been describing first in one sense and then in another. Men will

take the objects of their desire if they can. Unquestionably:--but this

is an identical proposition: for an object of desire means merely

a thing which a man will procure if he can. Nothing can possibly be

inferred from a maxim of this kind. When we see a man take something we

shall know that it was an object of his desire. But till then we have

no means of judging with certainty what he desires or what he will

take. The general proposition, however, having been admitted, Mr. Mill

proceeds to reason as if men had no desires but those which can be

gratified only by spoliation and oppression. It then becomes easy to

deduce doctrines of vast importance from the original axiom. The only

misfortune is, that by thus narrowing the meaning of the word desire the

axiom becomes false, and all the doctrines consequent upon it are false

likewise.

When we pass beyond those maxims which it is impossible to deny without

a contradiction in terms, and which, therefore, do not enable us to

advance a single step in practical knowledge, we do not believe that

it is possible to lay down a single general rule respecting the motives

which influence human actions. There is nothing which may not, by

association or by comparison, become an object either of desire or

of aversion. The fear of death is generally considered as one of the

strongest of our feelings. It is the most formidable sanction which

legislators have been able to devise. Yet it is notorious that, as Lord

Bacon has observed, there is no passion by which that fear has not been

often overcome. Physical pain is indisputably an evil; {47}yet it has

been often endured, and even welcomed. Innumerable martyrs have exulted

in torments which made the spectators shudder; and, to use a more homely

illustration, there are few wives who do not long to be mothers.

Is the love of approbation a stronger motive than the love of wealth? It

is impossible to answer this question generally even in the case of an

individual with whom we are very intimate. We often say, indeed, that a

man loves fame more than money or money more than fame. But this is said

in a loose and popular sense; for there is scarcely a man who would not

endure a few sneers for a great sum of money, if he were in pecuniary

distress; and scarcely a man, on the other hand, who, if he were in

flourishing circumstances, would expose himself to the hatred and

contempt of the public for a trifle. In order, therefore, to return a

precise answer even about a single human being, we must know what is

the amount of the sacrifice of reputation demanded and of the pecuniary

advantage offered, and in what situation the person to whom the

temptation is proposed stands at the time. But, when the question is

propounded generally about the whole species, the impossibility of

answering is still more evident. Man differs from man; generation from

generation; nation from nation. Education, station, sex, age, accidental

associations, produce infinite shades of variety.

Now, the only mode in which we can conceive it possible to deduce a

theory of government from the principles of human nature is this.

We must find out what are the motives which, in a particular form of

government, impel rulers to bad measures, and what are those which impel

them to good measures. We {48}must then compare the effect of the two

classes of motives; and, according as we find the one or the other to

prevail, we must pronounce the form of government in question good or

bad.

Now let it be supposed that, in aristocratical and monarchical states,

the desire of wealth and other desires of the same class always tend

to produce mis-government, and that the love of approbation and other

kindred feelings always tend to produce good government. Then, if it be

impossible, as we have shown that it is, to pronounce generally which of

the two classes of motives is the more influential, it is impossible to

find out, _a priori_, whether a monarchical or aristocratical form of

government be good or bad.

Mr. Mill has avoided the difficulty of making the comparison, by very

coolly putting all the weights into one of the scales,--by reasoning as

if no human being had ever sympathised with the feelings, been gratified

by the thanks, or been galled by the execrations, of another.

The case, as we have put it, is decisive against Mr. Mill; and yet we

have put it in a manner far too favourable to him. For, in fact, it is

impossible to lay it down as a general rule that the love of wealth in a

sovereign always produces misgovernment, or the love of approbation good

government. A patient and farsighted ruler, for example, who is

less desirous of raising a great sum immediately than of securing an

unencumbered and progressive revenue, will, by taking off restraints

from trade and giving perfect security to property, encourage

accumulation and entice capital from foreign countries. The commercial

policy of Prussia, which is perhaps superior to that of any country in

the world, and which puts to shame the {49}absurdities of our republican

brethren on the other side of the Atlantic, has probably sprung from the

desire of an absolute ruler to enrich himself. On the other hand, when

the popular estimate of virtues and vices is erroneous, which is too

often the case, the love of approbation leads sovereigns to spend

the wealth of the nation on useless shows, or to engage in wanton and

destructive wars. If then we can neither compare the strength of two

motives, nor determine with certainty to what description of actions

either motive will lead, how can we possibly deduce a theory of

government from the nature of man?

How, then, are we to arrive at just conclusions on a subject so

important to the happiness of mankind? Surely by that method which, in

every experimental science to which it has been applied, has signally

increased the power and knowledge of our species,--by that method for

which our new philosophers would substitute quibbles scarcely worthy

of the barbarous respondents and opponents of the middle ages,--by the

method of Induction;--by observing the present state of the world,--by

assiduously studying the history of past ages,--by sifting the evidence

of facts,--by carefully combining and contrasting those which are

authentic,--by generalising with judgment and diffidence,--by

perpetually bringing the theory which we have constructed to the test

of new facts,--by correcting, or altogether abandoning it, according

as those new facts prove it to be partially or fundamentally unsound.

Proceeding thus,--patiently,--diligently,--candidly,--we may hope to

form a system as far inferior in pretension to that which we have been

examining and as far superior to it in real utility as the prescriptions

of a great physician, varying with every {50}stage of every malady and

with the constitution of every patient, to the pill of the advertising

quack which is to cure all human beings, in all climates, of all

diseases.

This is that noble Science of Politics, which is equally removed from

the barren theories of the Utilitarian sophists, and from the petty

craft, so often mistaken for statesmanship by minds grown narrow in

habits of intrigue, jobbing, and official etiquette;--which of all

sciences is the most important to the welfare of nations,--which of

all sciences most tends to expand and invigorate the mind,--which draws

nutriment and ornament from every part of philosophy and literature,

and dispenses in return nutriment and ornament to all. We are sorry and

surprised when we see men of good intentions and good natural abilities

abandon this healthful and generous study to pore over speculations like

those which we have been examining. And we should heartily rejoice to

find that our remarks had induced any person of this description to

employ, In researches of real utility, the talents and industry which

are now wasted on verbal sophisms, wretched of their wretched kind.

As to the greater part of the sect, it is, we apprehend, of little

consequence what they study or under whom. It would be more amusing,

to be sure, and more reputable, if they would take up the old republican

cant and declaim about Brutus and Timoleon, the duty of killing tyrants

and the blessedness of dying for liberty. But, on the whole, they

might have chosen worse. They may as well be Utilitarians as jockeys

or dandies. And, though quibbling about self-interest and motives, and

objects of desire, and the greatest happiness of the greatest number, is

but a poor employment {51}for a grown man, it certainly hurts the health

less than hard drinking and the fortune less than high play; it is not

much more laughable than phrenology, and is immeasurably more humane

than cock-fighting.