"Westminster Review" Number XXI., Article XVI. "Edinburgh
Review" Number XCVII., Article on Mill's Essays on
Government, etc.
We have had great reason, we think, to be gratified by the success of
our late attack on the Utilitarians. We could publish a long list of the
cures which it has wrought in cases previously considered as hopeless.
Delicacy forbids us to divulge names; but we cannot refrain from
alluding to two remarkable instances. A respectable lady writes to
inform us that her son, who was plucked at Cambridge last January, has
not been heard to call Sir James Mackintosh a poor ignorant fool
more than twice since the appearance of our article. A distinguished
political writer in the Westminster and Parliamentary Reviews has
borrowed Hume's History, and has actually got as far as the battle of
Agincourt. He assures us that he takes great pleasure in his new study,
and that he is very impatient to learn how Scotland and England became
one kingdom. But the greatest compliment that we have received is that
Mr Bentham himself should have condescended to take the field in defence
of Mr Mill. We have not been in the habit of reviewing reviews: but, as
Mr Bentham is a truly great man, and as his party have thought fit to
announce in puffs and placards that this article is written by him, and
contains not only an answer to our attacks, but a development of the
"greatest happiness principle," with the latest improvements of the
author, we shall for once depart from our general rule. However the
conflict may terminate, we shall at least not have been vanquished by an
ignoble hand.
Of Mr Bentham himself we shall endeavour, even while defending ourselves
against his reproaches, to speak with the respect to which his venerable
age, his genius, and his public services entitle him. If any harsh
expression should escape us, we trust that he will attribute it to
inadvertence, to the momentary warmth of controversy,--to anything, in
short, rather than to a design of affronting him. Though we have
nothing in common with the crew of Hurds and Boswells, who, either from
interested motives, or from the habit of intellectual servility and
dependence, pamper and vitiate his appetite with the noxious sweetness
of their undiscerning praise, we are not perhaps less competent than
they to appreciate his merit, or less sincerely disposed to acknowledge
it. Though we may sometimes think his reasonings on moral and political
questions feeble and sophistical--though we may sometimes smile at his
extraordinary language--we can never be weary of admiring the amplitude
of his comprehension, the keenness of his penetration, the exuberant
fertility with which his mind pours forth arguments and illustrations.
However sharply he may speak of us, we can never cease to revere in him
the father of the philosophy of Jurisprudence. He has a full right to
all the privileges of a great inventor: and, in our court of criticism,
those privileges will never be pleaded in vain. But they are limited
in the same manner in which, fortunately for the ends of justice, the
privileges of the peerage are now limited. The advantage is personal and
incommunicable. A nobleman can now no longer cover with his protection
every lackey who follows his heels, or every bully who draws in his
quarrel: and, highly as we respect the exalted rank which Mr Bentham
holds among the writers of our time, yet when, for the due maintenance
of literary police, we shall think it necessary to confute sophists,
or to bring pretenders to shame, we shall not depart from the ordinary
course of our proceedings because the offenders call themselves
Benthamites.
Whether Mr Mill has much reason to thank Mr Bentham for undertaking his
defence, our readers, when they have finished this article, will perhaps
be inclined to doubt. Great as Mr Bentham's talents are, he has, we
think, shown an undue confidence in them. He should have considered how
dangerous it is for any man, however eloquent and ingenious he may
be, to attack or defend a book without reading it: and we feel quite
convinced that Mr Bentham would never have written the article before
us if he had, before he began, perused our review with attention, and
compared it with Mr Mill's Essay.
He has utterly mistaken our object and meaning. He seems to think that
we have undertaken to set up some theory of government in opposition to
that of Mr Mill. But we distinctly disclaimed any such design. From
the beginning to the end of our article, there is not, as far as
we remember, a single sentence which, when fairly construed, can be
considered as indicating any such design. If such an expression can be
found, it has been dropped by inadvertence. Our object was to prove, not
that monarchy and aristocracy are good, but that Mr Mill had not proved
them to be bad; not that democracy is bad, but that Mr Mill had not
proved it to be good. The points in issue are these: whether the famous
Essay on Government be, as it has been called, a perfect solution of
the great political problem, or a series of sophisms and blunders; and
whether the sect which, while it glories in the precision of its logic,
extols this Essay as a masterpiece of demonstration be a sect deserving
of the respect or of the derision of mankind. These, we say, are the
issues; and on these we with full confidence put ourselves on the
country.
It is not necessary, for the purposes of this investigation, that
we should state what our political creed is, or whether we have any
political creed at all. A man who cannot act the most trivial part in a
farce has a right to hiss Romeo Coates: a man who does not know a vein
from an artery may caution a simple neighbour against the advertisements
of Dr Eady. A complete theory of government would indeed be a noble
present to mankind; but it is a present which we do not hope and do not
pretend that we can offer. If, however, we cannot lay the foundation, it
is something to clear away the rubbish; if we cannot set up truth, it
is something to pull down error. Even if the subjects of which the
Utilitarians treat were subjects of less fearful importance, we should
think it no small service to the cause of good sense and good taste to
point out the contrast between their magnificent pretensions and their
miserable performances. Some of them have, however, thought fit to
display their ingenuity on questions of the most momentous kind, and on
questions concerning which men cannot reason ill with impunity. We think
it, under these circumstances, an absolute duty to expose the fallacy of
their arguments. It is no matter of pride or of pleasure. To read their
works is the most soporific employment that we know; and a man ought no
more to be proud of refuting them than of having two legs. We must now
come to close quarters with Mr Bentham, whom, we need not say, we do not
mean to include in this observation. He charges us with maintaining,--
"First, 'That it is not true that all despots govern ill;'--whereon the
world is in a mistake, and the Whigs have the true light. And for proof,
principally,--that the King of Denmark is not Caligula. To which the
answer is, that the King of Denmark is not a despot. He was put in his
present situation by the people turning the scale in his favour in a
balanced contest between himself and the nobility. And it is quite clear
that the same power would turn the scale the other way the moment a King
of Denmark should take into his head to be Caligula. It is of little
consequence by what congeries of letters the Majesty of Denmark is
typified in the royal press of Copenhagen, while the real fact is
that the sword of the people is suspended over his head, in case of
ill-behaviour, as effectually as in other countries where more noise is
made upon the subject. Everybody believes the sovereign of Denmark to be
a good and virtuous gentleman; but there is no more superhuman merit in
his being so than in the case of a rural squire who does not shoot his
land-steward or quarter his wife with his yeomanry sabre.
"It is true that there are partial exceptions to the rule, that all
men use power as badly as they dare. There may have been such things as
amiable negro-drivers and sentimental masters of press-gangs; and here
and there, among the odd freaks of human nature, there may have been
specimens of men who were 'No tyrants, though bred up to tyranny.' But
it would be as wise to recommend wolves for nurses at the Foundling on
the credit of Romulus and Remus as to substitute the exception for the
general fact, and advise mankind to take to trusting to arbitrary power
on the credit of these specimens."
Now, in the first place, we never cited the case of Denmark to prove
that all despots do not govern ill. We cited it to prove that Mr Mill
did not know how to reason. Mr Mill gave it as a reason for deducing the
theory of government from the general laws of human nature that the King
of Denmark was not Caligula. This we said, and we still say, was absurd.
In the second place, it was not we, but Mr Mill, who said that the King
of Denmark was a despot. His words are these:--"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." We leave Mr Bentham to settle with Mr
Mill the distinction between a despot and an absolute king.
In the third place, Mr Bentham says that there was in Denmark a balanced
contest between the king and the nobility. We find some difficulty in
believing that Mr Bentham seriously means to say this, when we consider
that Mr Mill has demonstrated the chance to be as infinity to one
against the existence of such a balanced contest.
Fourthly, Mr Bentham says that in this balanced contest the people
turned the scale in favour of the king against the aristocracy. But Mr
Mill has demonstrated that it cannot possibly be for the interest of
the monarchy and democracy to join against the aristocracy; and that
wherever the three parties exist, the king and the aristocracy will
combine against the people. This, Mr Mill assures us, is as certain as
anything which depends upon human will.
Fifthly, Mr Bentham says that, if the King of Denmark were to oppress
his people, the people and nobles would combine against the king. But Mr
Mill has proved that it can never be for the interest of the aristocracy
to combine with the democracy against the king. It is evidently Mr
Bentham's opinion, that "monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy may
balance each other, and by mutual checks produce good government." But
this is the very theory which Mr Mill pronounces to be the wildest,
the most visionary, the most chimerical ever broached on the subject of
government.
We have no dispute on these heads with Mr Bentham. On the contrary, we
think his explanation true--or at least, true in part; and we heartily
thank him for lending us his assistance to demolish the essay of his
follower. His wit and his sarcasm are sport to us; but they are death to
his unhappy disciple.
Mr Bentham seems to imagine that we have said something implying an
opinion favourable to despotism. We can scarcely suppose that, as he has
not condescended to read that portion of our work which he undertook to
answer, he can have bestowed much attention on its general character.
Had he done so he would, we think, scarcely have entertained such
a suspicion. Mr Mill asserts, and pretends to prove, that under no
despotic government does any human being, except the tools of the
sovereign, possess more than the necessaries of life, and that the most
intense degree of terror is kept up by constant cruelty. This, we say,
is untrue. It is not merely a rule to which there are exceptions: but it
is not the rule. Despotism is bad; but it is scarcely anywhere so bad
as Mr Mill says that it is everywhere. This we are sure Mr Bentham will
allow. If a man were to say that five hundred thousand people die every
year in London of dram-drinking, he would not assert a proposition more
monstrously false than Mr Mill's. Would it be just to charge us with
defending intoxication because we might say that such a man was grossly
in the wrong?
We say with Mr Bentham that despotism is a bad thing. We say with Mr
Bentham that the exceptions do not destroy the authority of the rule.
But this we say--that a single exception overthrows an argument which
either does not prove the rule at all, or else proves the rule to be
TRUE WITHOUT EXCEPTIONS; and such an argument is Mr Mill's argument
against despotism. In this respect there is a great difference between
rules drawn from experience and rules deduced a priori. We might believe
that there had been a fall of snow last August, and yet not think it
likely that there would be snow next August. A single occurrence opposed
to our general experience would tell for very little in our calculation
of the chances. But, if we could once satisfy ourselves that in ANY
single right-angled triangle the square of the hypothenuse might be
less than the squares of the sides, we must reject the forty-seventh
proposition of Euclid altogether. We willingly adopt Mr Bentham's lively
illustration about the wolf; and we will say in passing that it gives
us real pleasure to see how little old age has diminished the gaiety of
this eminent man. We can assure him that his merriment gives us far more
pleasure on his account than pain on our own. We say with him, Keep the
wolf out of the nursery, in spite of the story of Romulus and Remus.
But, if the shepherd who saw the wolf licking and suckling those famous
twins were, after telling this story to his companions, to assert that
it was an infallible rule that no wolf ever had spared, or ever would
spare, any living thing which might fall in its way--that its nature was
carnivorous--and that it could not possibly disobey its nature, we think
that the hearers might have been excused for staring. It may be strange,
but is not inconsistent, that a wolf which has eaten ninety-nine
children should spare the hundredth. But the fact that a wolf has once
spared a child is sufficient to show that there must be some flaw in the
chain of reasoning purporting to prove that wolves cannot possibly spare
children.
Mr Bentham proceeds to attack another position which he conceives us to
maintain:--
"Secondly, That a government not under the control of the community (for
there is no question upon any other) 'MAY SOON BE SATURATED.' Tell it
not in Bow Street, whisper it not in Hatton Garden,--that there is
a plan for preventing injustice by 'saturation.' With what peals of
unearthly merriment would Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanthus be aroused
upon their benches, if the 'light wings of saffron and of blue' should
bear this theory into their grim domains! Why do not the owners of
pocket-handkerchiefs try to 'saturate?' Why does not the cheated
publican beg leave to check the gulosity of his defrauder with a
repetatur haustus, and the pummelled plaintiff neutralise the malice of
his adversary, by requesting to have the rest of the beating in presence
of the court,--if it is not that such conduct would run counter to all
the conclusions of experience, and be the procreation of the mischief it
affected to destroy? Woful is the man whose wealth depends on his having
more than somebody else can be persuaded to take from him; and woful
also is the people that is in such a case!"
Now this is certainly very pleasant writing: but there is no great
difficulty in answering the argument. The real reason which makes it
absurd to think of preventing theft by pensioning off thieves is this,
that there is no limit to the number of thieves. If there were only a
hundred thieves in a place, and we were quite sure that no person not
already addicted to theft would take to it, it might become a question
whether to keep the thieves from dishonesty by raising them above
distress would not be a better course than to employ officers against
them. But the actual cases are not parallel. Every man who chooses
can become a thief; but a man cannot become a king or a member of
the aristocracy whenever he chooses. The number of the depredators is
limited; and therefore the amount of depredation, so far as physical
pleasures are concerned, must be limited also. Now, we made the remark
which Mr Bentham censures with reference to physical pleasures only. The
pleasures of ostentation, of taste, of revenge, and other pleasures of
the same description, have, we distinctly allowed, no limit. Our words
are these:--"a king or an aristocracy may be supplied to satiety with
CORPORAL PLEASURES, at an expense which the rudest and poorest community
would scarcely feel." Does Mr Bentham deny this? If he does, we
leave him to Mr Mill. "What," says that philosopher, in his Essay on
Education, "what are the ordinary pursuits of wealth and power, which
kindle to such a height the ardour of mankind? Not the mere love of
eating and of drinking, or all the physical objects together which
wealth can purchase or power command. With these every man is in the
long run speedily satisfied." What the difference is between being
speedily satisfied and being soon saturated, we leave Mr Bentham and Mr
Mill to settle together.
The word "saturation," however, seems to provoke Mr Bentham's mirth. It
certainly did not strike us as very pure English; but, as Mr Mill used
it, we supposed it to be good Benthamese. With the latter language we
are not critically acquainted, though, as it has many roots in common
with our mother tongue, we can contrive, by the help of a converted
Utilitarian, who attends us in the capacity of Moonshee, to make out a
little. But Mr Bentham's authority is of course decisive; and we bow to
it.