"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 Encyclopaedia Britannica. (Not for sale.)
London, 1828.
Of 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 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 masterpiece 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 old number of the Westminster Review, and in a
month 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 principle 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 meantime
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 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 philosopher 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 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, 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 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 Mill's subsequent doctrine,
perfectly accomplish the end of its institution. 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 of desire. They will thus defeat the very end
for which 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 anything 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 what 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 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 case 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. Even 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."
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; 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 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 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 everything 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.