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 Moral causation: or Notes on Mr Mill's 
 
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MOEAL CAUSATION 
 
 OR 
 
 NOTES ON MR MILL'S NOTES 
 
 TO THE CHAPTER ON 'FREEDOM' 
 
 IN THE THIRD EDITION OP HIS 'EXAMINATION 
 
 OP SIR W. HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY' 
 
 BY 
 
 PATEICK PEOCTOE ALEXAXDEE, M.A. 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' MILL AND CARLYLE, ETC. ETC. 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 EEVISED AND EXTENDED 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBUEGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLXXV 
 
pjsoms'i 
 
 PRINTED By WILLTAM BLA-CKWOOD AND SONS. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 Some short time after the publication of Mr John 
 Stuart Mill's 'Examination of Sir William Hamilton's 
 Philosophy ' I issued a little book entitled ' Mill and 
 Carlyle.' The first and larger portion of it was, in 
 effect, a criticism of Mr Mill's Chap, xxvi., " On the 
 Freedom of the Will," in which his success, as against 
 Hamilton, did not seem to be great, whilst his own 
 doctrine, as set forth in it — so at least I endeavoured to 
 show — was involved in the most serious confusions. 
 With the reception given to the work, I had, on the 
 whole, no reason to be dissatisfied. It met with 
 rather more recognition than I myself had ventured 
 to expect for it ; and on the appearance of Mr Mill's 
 Third Edition, I found that he had done me tlie honour 
 to controvert me in a series of " Notes " of some length 
 and elaboration. It did not appear to me that Mr 
 Mill took much by his attempt to invalidate my argu- 
 ments ; rather, it seemed that in nearly every instance 
 he could only evade my criticism by rushing into 
 
iv Preface. 
 
 blunders more dreadM than those of which originally 
 I had sought to convict him. This I endeavoured to 
 show in a book called ' Moral Causation, being Notes 
 on Mr Mill's Notes,' &c. The success of this work 
 was, sooth to say, not much ; I am not aware that any 
 one ever either bought or read it ; and the notices of 
 it in the press were few, slight, and for the most part, 
 I rather think, contemptuous. 
 
 Meantime its reasonings remained unanswered; and 
 as I had sent Mr Mill a copy of the book, inscribed to 
 him with my best respects — this as the merest matter of 
 course — I consoled myself with the expectation that 
 more or less of his attention would be given to it 
 when he issued his Fourth Edition. It was therefore 
 with some surprise that I came upon this passage in 
 the preface to it : ' Of the assailants to whom I replied 
 ' two only have published a rejoinder. Dean Mansel 
 ' and Dr M'Cosh ; ' and that, on turning to the chapter 
 in question, I found the " Notes " to which I had re- 
 plied seriatim, reproduced without note or comment. 
 As it did not the least suit me to be thus dragged 
 through STiccessive editions at the wheels of Mr MOl's 
 conquering chariot, in a series of Notes to which, by 
 implication, I might seem to have been unable to 
 reply, whereas to my own satisfaction I had at almost 
 every point rebutted them, I decided to reissue my book 
 — in a revised and somewhat extended form — thus liv- 
 ing Mr Mill an opportunity of doing in his Fifth Edi- 
 tion what he had not done in his Fourth. This revise 
 I was in process of preparing when the news of Mr 
 
Preface. v 
 
 Mill's death reached England. In the general sense 
 of sadness diffused by the premature extinction of so 
 great an intellectual light, my publication must have 
 seemed inopportune, and I therefore resolved to defer 
 it ; but the project may be now resumed. The appear- 
 ance of Mr MHl's 'Autobiography,' and, more lately, 
 of his three ' Essays on Eeligion,' has stirred a new 
 interest in his opinions on such subjects, which may 
 give to my criticism (in so far as it may be held in- 
 telligent) a pertinence which it might not otherwise 
 have possessed. Moreover, in the interval the subject 
 has lost none of its importance ; and as intimately 
 related to certain of the current controversies of the 
 time, it is constantly coming up for discussion. Any 
 little bit of accurate thought about it — supposing one 
 capable of such — might thus be held seasonable and 
 appropriate. 
 
 Mr Mill himself, as we learn from his Autobiography, 
 attached a rather special value to his own speculations 
 on this particular topic. At pp. 168-170 we find him 
 thus writing : — 
 
 'During the later returns of my dejection, the 
 ' doctrine of what is called Philosophical Necessity 
 ' weighed on my existence like an incubus. I felt as 
 ' if I was scientifically proved to be the helpless slave 
 ' of antecedent circumstances ; as if my character and 
 ' that of all others had been formed for us by agencies 
 ' beyond our control, and was wholly out of own power. 
 ' I often said to myself, what a relief it would be if I 
 ' could disbelieve the doctrine of the formation of char- 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 ' acter by circumstances ; and remembering the wish of 
 ' Pox respecting the doctrine of resistance to govern- 
 ' ments, that it might never be forgotten by kings, nor 
 ' remembered by their subjects, I said that it would be 
 ' a blessing if the doctrine of Necessity could be believed 
 ' by all quoad the character of others, and disbelieved in 
 ' regard to their own. I pondered painfully on the sub- 
 ' ject till gradually I saw light through it. I perceived 
 ' that the word Necessity, as a name for the doctrine 
 ' of cause and effect applied to human action, carried 
 ' with it a misleading association ; and that this associ- 
 ' ation was the operative force in the depressing and 
 ' paralysing influence which I had experienced ; I saw 
 ' that though our character is formed by circumstances, 
 ' our own desires Qan do much to shape those circum- 
 ' stances ; and that what is really inspiriting and enno- 
 ' bling in the doctrine of free-will, is the conviction that 
 'we have real power over the formation of our own 
 ' character ; that our will, by influencing some of our 
 ' circumstances, can modify our future habits or capa- 
 ' bilities of willing. All this was entirely consistent 
 ' with the doctrine of circumstances, or rather was that 
 ' doctrine itself, properly understood. From that time I 
 • drew in my own mind a clear distinction between the 
 ' doctrine of circumstances and Fatalism ; discarding 
 ' altogether the misleading word Necessity. The theory, 
 ' which I now for the first time rightly apprehended, 
 ' ceased to be discouraging, and besides the relief to my 
 ' spirits, I no longer suffered under the burden, so heavy 
 ' to one who aims at being a reformer in opinions, of 
 
Preface. vii 
 
 ' thinking one doctrine true and the contrary doctrine 
 ' morally beneficial. The train of thought which had 
 ' extricated me from this dilemma seemed to me, in 
 ' after years, fitted to render a similar service to others ; 
 ' and it now forms the chapter on Liberty and Necessity 
 ' in the concluding Book of my System of Logic' (It 
 is unnecessary to criticise the above statement, inas- 
 much as the intellectual confusions which are flagrant 
 in it will be found suf&ciently dealt with in Section viii. 
 of the book, and elsewhere.) Not all even of Mr Mill's 
 admirers, however, assign to his reasonings on this 
 subject the value which he himself did. Professor 
 Cairnes, in particular, has expressly recorded his dis- 
 sent — vide passage at the close of his interesting and 
 important paper in the ' Fortnightly Eeview ' of Jan- 
 uary last, " Mr Spencer on Social Evolution," in which 
 a doctrine is announced, identical with that set forth 
 in the following pages, as that which I believe to be 
 Hamilton's. 
 
 ' But though the argument we have been pursuing 
 ' does not necessarily involve the question of the Pree- 
 ' dom of the Will, it cannot be denied that it comes 
 ' into dangerous proximity with that quicksand of philo- 
 ' sophic speculation — so much so, indeed, that one needs 
 ' to guide his steps warily if he would avoid its perils. 
 ' I call the question of the Freedom of the Will a quick- 
 ' sand, because it is one in which, I frankly own, I have 
 ' never been able to find solid footing. Mr Mill, as is 
 ' well known, tried to explore it, and believed that he 
 ' had reached firm standing-ground (System of Logic, 
 
viii Preface. 
 
 ' Book VI., Chap, ii.) He persuaded himself that he 
 ' could reconcile the power of individuals, by an effort 
 ' of wiU, to improve their own characters — to make 
 ' them other than they would he but for the effort — 
 ' with the fact that their conduct is determined in every 
 ' act by the relation of the motives presented at the 
 ' time to their characters as formed by all the influences 
 ' which had acted upon them from birth to the moment 
 ' of action. These two positions Mr Mill believed he 
 ' could reconcile. For my part, I must acknowledge my 
 ' inability to follow him through his demonstration. 
 ' Both propositions are, to my apprehension, as true as 
 ' the strongest testimony of consciousness can make any- 
 ' thing, and I therefore accept them both, though I am 
 ' unable to bring them into harmony. The position is, 
 ' no doubt, unsatisfactory, but it seems to be the only 
 ' one open under the circumstances ; for I fail to see 
 ' the reasonableness of rejecting a truth supported by 
 ' the strongest evidence vouchsafed to man, because I 
 ' am unable to reconcile it with another which rests 
 ' upon no better foundation.' 
 
 And the confusion which Professor Cairnes thus 
 justly suspects in the 'Logic,' he would have found a 
 little worse confounded in the chapter on Hamilton, 
 had he gone to seek for farther light there. 
 
 In the course of my argument, I was led into some 
 examination of Mr Mill's "Psychological Theory of 
 Mind" (see p. 149 e,t seq.), and could not but think it, 
 on the whole, an exceedingly shaky speculation. For 
 the sake of completeness, I include in the Appendix to 
 
Preface. ix 
 
 this volume some criticism of the previous chapter, in 
 which Mr Mill sets forth his " Psychological Theory of 
 Matter." To these speculations also Mr Mill seems to 
 have attributed considerable importance. He speaks 
 of them with some complacency in his Autobiography, 
 as " having perhaps thrown additional light on some 
 of the disputed questions in the domain of Psychology 
 and Metaphysics ; " and the latter, the " Psychological 
 Theory of the Belief in an External World," he thought 
 it worth while to reprint in extenso at the end of the 
 first volume of his edition of his father's ' Analysis of 
 the Human Mind.' Some inquiry as to what, after 
 all, may be its real value, may thus be not without 
 interest, in aid of any estimate to be formed of Mr 
 John Stuart Mill as a Psychologist. 
 
 In parts of this volume there- is perhaps some tend- 
 ency to a little levity of treatment which, to certain 
 " well -constituted minds " — the subjects treated of 
 being of rather serious concernment — may possibly be 
 more or less distasteful. For this I should desire to 
 apologise, if I knew in what terms to do so. Writ- 
 ing pretty much to amuse myself, I choose to do 
 so as I go along ; and, this primary object attained, it 
 is my whim perhaps to be a little more indifferent than 
 I should be, as to whether, in thus amusing myself, I 
 may not be giving offence to here and there a solemn 
 and serious-minded reader ; but if this is to be rated a 
 sin, I submit it is not in the list of the deadly ones. 
 
 For the tone which, in certain passages, I find 
 I have allowed myself to adopt to a man like Mr 
 
X Preface. 
 
 John Stuart Mill (of insolence as I fear it may be 
 held — or call it, if you will, impertinence), I have 
 only the same excuse to offer. I confess it seems 
 rather a poor one ; but I suppose no better can be 
 made of it : what I should probably have censured 
 in another, I do not care to defend in myself. But 
 I particularly beg that for what is merely a little 
 recklessness of literary statement, I may not be held 
 capable of doing wilful despite to Mr Mill ; a man to 
 whom beyond all others of our time — save only Mr 
 Thomas Carlyle — I acknowledge intellectual indebt- 
 edness ; who had in his life my sincerest admiration 
 and respect, and whose memory I hold in honour. 
 
 P. P. A. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 In the third edition, lately issued, of his Examina- 
 tion of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy, Mr Mill has 
 made a general 'gaol-delivery' of his critics, giving 
 a list of them in his Preface, and in a series of Notes 
 distributed throughout the work, awarding to each — 
 on the spot, as it were, at which his crime was com- 
 mitted — such punishment as its measure of atrocity 
 might seem at his hands to deserve. In that list, as 
 author of a little volume entitled Mill and Carlyle, 
 I find myself included ; and in certain ' Notes ' of some 
 length to the chapter ' On the Freedom of the WiU ' — 
 on which subject it was that I presumed to call Mr 
 Mill's argument in question — I receive, in reward of 
 my presumption, such stripes as he has deemed due 
 to my offence. Mr MiU is so great a man, it would 
 almost be a pleasure to be kicked by him ; to be criti- 
 cised by him, I regard as mere honour done me, — and 
 would tender him, very sincerely, my thanks for his 
 
 A 
 
2 Introductory. 
 
 little civilities. These I proceed to reciprocate, iu 
 some sort of free-and-easy fashion, by a series of Notes 
 on Mr Mill's Notes. Mr Mill having taken the trouble 
 to lorite me, as it were, it is the merest suggestion of 
 courtesy that he should not be left without reply. 
 Whatever comes from Mr Mill must needs be deserv- 
 ing of every attention, as coming from him, even if not 
 specially otherwise. What has here come from him — 
 some trivial points excepted, which I willingly score 
 in his favour — asks only a very little attention, to be 
 answered, as I venture to think, with quite conclusive 
 effect. 
 
 Against nothing in Mr Mill's observations — con- 
 ceived as they are throughout in that spirit of admir- 
 able courtesy which, as exercised to his other assailants, 
 he also extends to me — have I personal cause of com- 
 plaint. Complimentary, of course, they could not be ; 
 and if here and there they are edged with some touch 
 of caustic scorn, this also was merely of course, and, as 
 simply in the nature of the case, cannot possibly have 
 matter of offence in it. Mr Mill must either have 
 despised my reasonings, or conceived some little con- 
 tempt for Ms own ; had he chosen the latter alternative, 
 I should ever after have held him unworthy of the 
 name of Philosopher. To one only remark of Mr Mill 
 do I feel called upon to take objection, as havino- read 
 it with positive pain: — 'Mr Alexander's perpetual 
 
Introductory. 3 
 
 ' insinuations, and more than insinuations, of had faith, 
 ' since he makes a kind of retractation of their grossest 
 ' meaning, in one line of his essay, I pardon, as one of 
 ' the incidents of his rollicking style.' As to the 
 epithet applied to my style, it seems neither here nor 
 there. Perhaps it is meant by Mr Mill as complimen- 
 tary ; and even were the reverse of a compliment 
 intended in it, this I should readily ' pardon/ as, it may 
 be, no more than ' one of the incidents ' of Mr Mill's 
 extreme distaste for certain of the arguments so con- 
 veyed, to which, as it seems, he can reply with no 
 better effect than we shall see him do. What does 
 give me real pain is, that .Mr Mill should suppose me 
 capable of supposing him capable of anything properly 
 to be termed ' bad faith.' What can I do, in such a 
 case, more than merely reiterate the frank disclaimer 
 already made, to which Mr Mill alludes ? Not guilty 
 — at least in intention — I once more distinctly plead. 
 If this be not enough for Mr Mill, who holds that ' the 
 ' motive has nothing to do with the morality of the 
 ' action,' I am helpless, except to suggest, that perhaps 
 his own Utilitarian Theory, which involves that extra- 
 ordinary dictum, is more blamable than I in the matter. 
 One instance only of this sin alleged against me does 
 Mr Mill condescend to adduce : — ' I venture to express 
 ' my opinion in words borrowed from Mr Alexander, 
 ' that it is not his "veritable consciousness." I will 
 
4 Introductory. 
 
 ' not imitate Mr Alexander in calling it " a fraudulent 
 ' substitute palmed off upon him " by his philosophical 
 ' system.' Mr Mill is at once over-sensitive here, and 
 seems a little to sin in misapprehension. In calling 
 ' a substitute' frauchilent, as having passed a deceit on 
 Mr Mill, I could scarcely intend to imply in Mr Mill 
 fraud in his having been deceived by it. Between the 
 thimblerigger and his victim, I must seriously impress 
 on Mr Mill that the logical distinction is clear. It 
 seems odd he should force me to do such a thing. 
 
 Mr Mill (I beg pardon for lingering over this point, 
 but in relation to one or two of my coming criti- 
 cisms of Mr Mill it is essential it should be clearly 
 made out) permitted himself to insinuate against 
 Professor Mansel some suspicion of his tampering 
 with his intelligence in the interest of a certain 
 system of belief to which he stood pledged. To 
 Mr Mansel's slightly indignant rejoinder he now in 
 his turn rejoins that, while 'no imputation was in- 
 ' tended, the effect of men's necessities of position on 
 ' their opinions, as well as conduct, is far too widely 
 ' reaching and influential an element in human affairs 
 ' to be always passed over in silence for fear of offend- 
 ' ing personal susceptibilities.' Might I venture to 
 suggest to Mr Mill, without seeming impertinent, 
 that no ' necessity of position ' can be more trying to a 
 man's candour than the position — as I take it, his own 
 
Introductory. 5 
 
 — of standing fully committed before tlie world to a 
 helplessly bad argument ? I am not aware that Pro- 
 fessor Mansel is pledged to any of his beliefs more 
 deeply than Mr Mill intellectually is to what he calls a 
 ' Doctrine of Moral Causation/ which is neither Freedom 
 nor Fate, but is supposed to hover somewhere between 
 the two. Suppose that by the rule of two and two 
 make four it should be proved that this darling 
 birth of Mr Mill's philosophical genius could positively 
 hover nowhere except in some liwho of the contra- 
 dictory or the unintelligible, what would be sure to 
 occur ? Mr Mill would instantly proceed to develop 
 the scepticism already latent in him as to any positive 
 necessity in two and two to be four. Believing, as 
 already he does {mi& pp. 86, 87),^ that perhaps there 
 may be somewhere a world in which two and two, on 
 coming together, are found to have sprouted a fifth, so 
 as to be accurately five, the inference could not but 
 come easy to him that perhaps occasionally in this 
 world such a thing might occur ; and ' the two and two ' 
 of the argument would be shown — we need not doubt, 
 with much ingenuity — to be exceptional to the general 
 rule, in mere purchase of herrings or the like admitted. 
 But supposing all this, should we surmise in Mr Mill 
 ' bad faith 'in it ? Not in the least ; only extremely 
 
 ^ Mr Mill's third edition, from which, unless expressly it is other- 
 wise stated, all extracts are taken. 
 
6 Introductory. 
 
 bad argument, almost in a manner forced upon him by 
 tbe sad ' necessity of position,' involved in his natural 
 affection as a parent for his rickety philosophical off- 
 spring. To ' look on truth askance and strangely ' is 
 almost of needs involved in the very taking up with its 
 opposite. The most candid of men will play a little 
 fast and loose with you iu argument, rather than admit 
 the error he is unable, as unwilling to see, in a hitherto 
 cherished opinion. Almost, I might say, that the man 
 who does not fear that, in such a case, he himself 
 might be found overlooking the thing before his eyes, 
 and seeing something else round the corner — turning 
 himself hither and thither, and, in order to evade a diffi- 
 culty, indulging in clever wily twists, which might do 
 credit to the old serpent — is somewhat over-confident of 
 his own virtue, and a little to seek in self-knowledge. 
 But a man may really not see the thing which is before 
 his eyes ; and in thinking he sees round the corner, his 
 lona fides may be as perfect as Mr Mill can possibly 
 desire that even his own should be considered. Some 
 little obliquity of vision I may have in the following 
 pages at points to allege in Mr Mill; but I only 
 allow myself to allege it as a natural obliquity — 
 under the ' necessity of position.' Imputation against 
 him of anything to be called ' bad faith ' most positively 
 and in toto I disclaim. jSTevertheless, in case some 
 offence should again arise in the trick of indiscreet ex- 
 
Introductory. 7 
 
 pression, might I simply beg of Mr Mill once more to 
 make charitable allowance for it, as ' an incident of my 
 rollicking style.' I admit it the reverse of Academic, 
 but in vain should I toil to make it so. Be it ' rollick- 
 ing,' as Mr Mill styles it, or ' disgustingly flippant,' as 
 others have been good enough to call it, I fear it is 
 quite past praying for. "Without more ado of preface, 
 already more than enough, I pass to the consideration 
 of Mr Mill's Notes, as they occur in his Book, seriatim. 
 
Causes. 
 
 Me Mill's NoTE^^a^e 554-. 
 
 ' Sir W. Hamilton ttinks it a fair statement of the 
 Free-will doctrine that it supposes our volitions to he un- 
 caused ; but the " Inquirer " considers this a misstatement, 
 and thinks the real Free-will doctrine to be that " 7" am 
 the cause. I prefer the other language as being more con- 
 sistent with the use of the word cause in other cases.' ' In- 
 stead of saying that " 7" am the cause, the Inquirer should 
 at least say some state or mode of me, which is different; 
 when the effect is different ; though what state or mode 
 this could be, unless it were a will to wiU (the notion so 
 justly ridiculed by Hobbes), it is difficult to imagine. I 
 persist, therefore, in saying, with Sir W. Hamilton, that 
 on the Free-will doctrine volitions are emancipated from 
 Causation altogether.' 
 
 I am not, of course, concerned to defend the ' In- 
 quirer ; ' but I may note, in passing to what more 
 properly touches myself, that he has at least the 
 authority of Eeid, whatever it may be worth, for his 
 mode of stating the case. Yide, Eeid — ' A free, action 
 ' is an effect produced by a being who had power and 
 
lo The Man himself as Cause. 
 
 ' will to produce it ; therefore it is not an effect without 
 ' a cause.' Elsewhere — ' The cause must either be the 
 ' person himself, whose will it is, or some other being. 
 ' The first is as easily conceived as the last. If the 
 ' person was the cause of that determination of his own 
 ' will, he was free in that action,' &c. — (Tidd on the 
 Active Powers.) The statement of the 'Inquirer' is 
 thus in so far justified ; but, along with Sir W. Hamil- 
 ton, I am quite in agreement with Mr Mill that this 
 announcement of ' I ' as the cause, is, on any ground of 
 mere logic (and as distinguished from the line of reas- 
 oning which seeks to carry the subject into a region 
 which transcends logic by identifying the wiU with the 
 mystery of the human personality), quite futile for the 
 purpose of the Free-will argument. 'If the person 
 ' was the cause of that determination of his own wiU, 
 ' he was free in that action.' How so ? Unless as 
 cause of that action the man had a power to do otherwise, 
 to constitute himself cause of a different action, he was 
 not, according to definition, free. And surely, to be 
 cause of one action implies in us no power, at the 
 instant, to abolish ourselves as cause of that action, 
 and become cause of another. 
 
 As to Mr Mill's difficulty about ' the state or mode 
 ' of the me, which is different when the effect is dif- 
 ' ferent,' I am unable to see how there should have 
 been difficulty for him in so exceedingly plain a matter. 
 Surely the desire is such a state or mode of the Me. 
 When we say that ' the man is the cause of his action,' 
 we must mean, if distinctly we mean anythinn-, the 
 
The Man himself as Cause. 1 1 
 
 man, as at the instant, specially determined in desire' 
 — the desire of the man in fact — the motive} It seems 
 thus plain that by announcing 'the man' as cause, 
 nothing is really gained. We do not in the least evade 
 the force of the main argument of the opponent, which 
 represents the act as determined unconditionally by 
 the balance of the desires and aversions. 
 
 As to Mr MiU's ' Sir W. Hamilton thinks it a fair 
 statement,' &c., with his final 'Ipe7^sist, therefore, in 
 ' saying, with Sir W. Hamilton, that on the Free-will 
 ' doctrine volitions are emancipated from Causation 
 ' altogether,' it may readily be shown that Mr Mill 
 here is plainly erroneous; and — though not, indeed, 
 without excuse in certain confusions of exposition in 
 his opponent — completely misapprehends Hamilton's 
 real doctrine. But of this hereafter, at large, apropos 
 of Mr Mill's Note, p. 582, in which he expressly 
 invites me to the discussion. 
 
 1 A motive is "a desire or aversion.'' For this clear, and every 
 way unexceptionable definition, I ratlier think the subject is indebted 
 to Mr Mill, though it is pointed at by previous writers, as by Hamil- 
 ton in his "Mental Tendency ;" by Leibnitz (in his curious con- 
 troversy with Clarke) when he says, " The Mind acts by virtue of 
 the Motives, which are its dispositions to act (des Motifs, qui sont ses 
 Dispositions a agir) ; '' and not improbably by many others. Mr Mill 
 does not, however, quite invariably confine himself to this use of the 
 word as defined by him. — (Yide page 83.) 
 
 Motiveless or uncaused volition — as to this, see Appendix, Note I. 
 
12 Consciousness of Freedom. 
 
 II. 
 
 Note — page 565. 
 
 ' In answer to the statement that " what I am ahh to do 
 " is not a subject of consciousness," Mr Alexander says 
 (p. 22 et seq.): — "Perhaps it is not; but what I/eeZ I am 
 " able to do is surely a subject of consciousness. As to Mr 
 " Mill's ' consciousness is not prophetic ; we are conscious of 
 " what is, not of what wiU, or can be,' it seems enough to say, 
 " that if we are conscious of a free force of volition continu- 
 " ously inherent in us, we are conscious of what is." If we 
 can be conscious of a force, or feel an abUity independently of 
 any present or past exercise thereof, the fact has nothing simi- 
 lar or analogous in all the rest of our nature. "We are not 
 conscious of a muscular force continuously inherent in us. 
 If we were born with a cataract, we are not conscious, 
 previous to being couched, of an ability to see. We should 
 not feel able to walk, if we had never walked, nor to think, 
 if we had never thought. AbUity and force are not real 
 entities, which can be felt as present when no effect follows • 
 they are abstract names for the happening of the effect on 
 the occurrence of the needful conditions, or for our expec- 
 tation of its happening.' 
 
Consciousness of Freedom. 13 
 
 I must confess myself in some difficulty with the 
 clause I have put in italics, illustrated, as it is, by 
 what follows. If nothing is to be held valid as con- 
 scioiisness unless it can be shown to exist in con- 
 sciousness, antecedent to the special experience 
 through which it is in consciousness educed, it should 
 seem that the very possibility of consciousness is 
 denied, an impossible consciousness hefore, conscious- 
 ness being needed to constitute its validity. We are 
 not conscious of sensation, as Mr Mill seems good 
 enough to admit, 'independently of any present or 
 past exercise of our sensitive susceptibility; only 
 on the application of the appropriate stimulus, is the 
 organ stung into activity, and sensation evoked in 
 consciousness. We do not, however, on that account 
 discredit our consciousness of sensation. So of Force 
 — it may very well be, that solely by our exercise of 
 force, is that force revealed to us in consciousness ; is 
 it therefore to be denied, that when we consciously 
 exercise force, we are conscious of force in its exer- 
 cise ? Mr Mill would seem to maintain this ; and he 
 is welcome of course to his denial, though I cannot 
 profess to understand it.i 
 
 1 "Wlien a philosopher assures me that, in the act of knocking another 
 down, let ns say — in the light of the sole interview between Adam 
 Smith and Dr Johnson, which so much amused Sir Walter Scott,* it 
 
 * Note contributed "by Scott to Croker's Edition of Boswell : — 
 "Mr Boswell has chosen to omit, for reasons which will be presently obvious, 
 that Johnson and Adam Smith met at Glasgow; but I have been assured by Pro- 
 fessor John Miller that they did so, and that Smith, leaving the party where he 
 
14 Consciottsness of Freedom. 
 
 'We are not conscious of a muscular force con- 
 tinuously inherent in us.' It is not asserted tliat 
 we are; not the less we are conscious, and only- 
 conscious, of ourselves, as living force, self-exer- 
 cised in various modes, of which the muscular mode 
 is one. 'If we are born with a cataract, we are 
 ' not conscious, previous to being couched, of an 
 ' ability to see ! ' Of this, after careful study, I can 
 make no more than an announcement of the not very 
 
 is perhaps allowable to suppose such a compliment as this passing 
 between two philosophers — he is conscious of no exercise of form or 
 power, except in the sense of knowing the meaning of his words, I 
 certainly do not understand him ; though I can quite understand how, 
 as accepting Dr Brown's Analysis of Causation — in which Power, 
 whilst retained as a word, is emptied of all real meaning, and virtually 
 extruded from the universe — he might come to make such an assertion. 
 And from this point of view it is, of course, that Mr Mill here writes 
 throughout. On the other hand, we find Professor Mansel, as repre- 
 sentative of a diiferent school of thought, thus writing : ' My first and 
 ' only presentation of power or causality is thus to he found in mj' con- 
 ' sciousness of myself willing ; every man who has been conscious of an 
 ' act of will has been conscious oi power therein ; and to any one who 
 ' has not been so conscious, no verbal description can supply the 
 ' deficiency ' (Prolegomena Logica, p. 139). When divergencies of 
 thought are, as here, fundamental, all argument, of course, is simply 
 so much mere waste of words. 
 
 had met Johnson, happened to come to another where Miller was. Knowing 
 that Smith had heen in Johnson's society, they were anxious to know what had 
 passed, and the more so, as Smith's temper seemed much lUfQed. At first Smith 
 would only answer — ' He's a brute — he's a brute ! ' But on closer examination it 
 appeared that Johnson no sooner saw Smith than he attacked him for some point 
 of his famous letter on the death of Hume. Smith vindicated the truth of his 
 statement. ' What did Johnson say ? ' was the universal inquiry. 'Why, he said,' 
 replied Smith, with the deepest impression of resentment — 'he said, " You lie I'" 
 
 'And what did you reply!' 'I said, "You are a son of a ."' On such terms," 
 
 concludes Sir Walter, '* did these two gi'cat Moralists meet and part ; and such 
 was the classical dialogue between two great teachers of Philosophy." 
 
Consciousness of Freedom. 15 
 
 recondite fact, that in order to see we must first have 
 an eye to see with. 'We should not feel able to 
 ' walk if we had never walked,' &c. Of course not; 
 and Mt Mill, in turn, will perhaps admit, that without 
 first heing able to walk, we should never either have 
 walked, or fdt able, so to do. But how these obvious 
 truisms, that we cannot see without eyes, or walk 
 without being able to walk, prove Mr Mill's conclu- 
 sion from them, that ' force is no real entity,' mean- 
 time remains obscure to me. They seem quite as 
 much to favour the opposite conclusion, that force, is 
 the only real entity, of the two perhaps the more 
 intelligible, and likely to meet with acceptance. 
 
 ' It is of course possible that this may be aU wrong,' 
 writes Mr Mill ingenuously, instantly after delivering 
 himself as above. It is really just possible, even 
 though Mr MUL is the person so delivering himself. 
 That the Ego primarily reveals itself in consciousness 
 as an energy, and as such is, in consciousness, self- 
 recognised throughout, is an opinion which may be 
 held ; which has been held by philosophers of some 
 note ; which Professor rerrier,^ in particular, seems to 
 have a good deal to say for ; and which Mr Mill, 
 however for himself he may decline to entertain it, 
 win find it not easy to disprove. But in truth, it 
 would be idle to concern one's self further with what 
 seems merely a frivolous verbal dispute. The con- 
 sciousness of Freedom asserted is sufficiently defined 
 
 1 Vide "Eemains" — Introduction to the Philosophy of Conscious- 
 ness. 
 
1 6 Consciousness of Freedom. 
 
 as a natural, universal, ineradicable belief, feeling, or 
 conviction of mankind, finding its ratification under 
 the ancient canon of Semper, ubique, ah omnibus. 
 About the ah omnibus there is, however, some little 
 difficulty ; for though some exceedingly stout ISTeces- 
 sitarians have admitted that they had such a feeling, 
 while clearly convinced of its absurdity, others of the 
 school, among whom Mr Mill is to be numbered, 
 protest they have not any feeling of the kind, nor 
 ever had.^ This ' practical feeling ' of Freedom — of a 
 power in us to have willed and done otherwise than 
 as we did — was never yet, that I know of, denied, 
 however, by any one who had not, as philosopher, 
 committed himself to the opposite theory. The sus- 
 picion, as inference, seems reasonable that the theory 
 and the denial stand related, as in some sort cause and 
 effect. From this point of view it was that I ventured 
 to suggest, as the proper authority in the matter, ' the 
 ' general consciousness of the race, philosophers with 
 ' rigour excepted.' Taking literally this sweeping ex- 
 clusion, really meant as no more than a bit of quasi- 
 humorous exaggeration (I admit there seems no mighty 
 humour in it), Mr Mill treats me, in regard of it, to a 
 little easy, but not, as it seems to me, exceedingly 
 felicitous sarcasm. ' If this,' he says (the tendency, 
 that is, to interpret facts in conformity with ' precon- 
 ' ceived opinion'), ' be the normal effect of Philosophy; 
 
 ^ Not in the strictest sense accurate as regards Mr Mill, who 
 steadily, and even, as we shall see, obstinately, declines to give any 
 distinct deliverance as to his genuine feeling in the matter. (See 
 next Section). 
 
Consciousness of Freedom. 1 7 
 
 ' if the effect of cultivating our power of mental dis- 
 ' crimination be to pervert it, let us close our books, 
 ' and accept Hodge as a better authority in meta- 
 ' physics than Locke or Kant ; and, I suppose, in as- 
 ' tronomy than Newton.' WeU, if tMs is not accurately 
 to be called the ' normal effect of philosophy,' which 
 has other effects less questionable, it is not unfre- 
 quently one effect. Does Mr Mill really deny this? 
 He can scarcely intend to do so, I should say, judging 
 from the remark (p. 620) in his comparison of Kant 
 and Hamilton — ' but in abihty to discern psychological 
 ' truths, uiicoloured by a theory, he (Kant) seems to me 
 ' inferior to Hamilton.' Kant, in his observation of the 
 facts of consciousness, had, it seems, then — in common 
 with Mr MiU and others — a trick of looking at them 
 through the coloured medium of his theories. Mr 
 Mill will perhaps not decline to admit that Hodge, as 
 not having any theories, has, at least to that extent, 
 distinctly the advantage of Kant. As to ' Hodge being 
 ' a better authority in metaphysics than Kant, and, I 
 ' suppose, in astronomy than Newton,' Mr Mill must 
 have been aware, in writing this, that he only attained 
 his little points at some expense of intellectual con- 
 fusion. But perhaps he was so pleased with his 
 points, he thought he had them cheap at the price. 
 As regards the particular consciousness in question, I 
 don't mind saying, with all plainness, that I consider 
 the despised Hodge — admitted somewhat the inferior 
 in the matters of astronomy and metaphysic — greatly 
 preferable, as an authority, to Mr MiU ; and if I can 
 
 B 
 
1 8 Freedom as tested by Experience. 
 
 clearly show — as I shall find no difficulty in doing — 
 that Mr Mill, whilst quite declining to admit that he 
 has this feeling of Freedom, has it all the same, just as 
 Hodge has, I think I shall have shown fair ground for 
 my preference of the last-named philosopher. 
 
 Meantime, to proceed with Mr Mill's note : ' Mr 
 ' Alexander denies that the belief that I was free to 
 ' act can possibly be tested by experience, a posteriori; 
 ' since experience only tells me the way in which I 
 ' did act, and says nothing about my having been able 
 ' to act otherwise.' What I said was in effect this, — 
 that experience — as Mr Mill uses the term in the pas- 
 sage I was engaged in criticising — experience, simpli- 
 citer, or in its separate items, as distinct from the 
 reasoned 'induction from experience,' on which he 
 elsewhere relies, and the force of the argument from 
 which it is fruitless to seek to evade,^ can ' neither con- 
 firm nor invalidate ' our consciousness of Freedom, as 
 asserted. On this obvious gTound — our sole possible 
 experience is, that of two alternatives we have chosen 
 one ; from this experience there can certainly be no 
 inference in us of a power to have chosen the other ; 
 and as little can there be inference in us of defect in 
 such a power ; for supposing such power to exist in us, 
 we could still have only chosen 07ie of the alternatives, 
 though, possibly, it might have been the other. Ex- 
 perience tells us what we did ; as to what we could 
 
 1 In so far, that is, as it amounts to a demonstration of the Causa- 
 tion of human actions ; but this, again, amounts, as we shall see, to 
 no contradiction oi the fact of human Freedom (p. 137). 
 
Freedom: as tested by Experietice. 1 9 
 
 do, it tells us something ; as to the other thing which 
 we did not do, it makes no deliverance whatever, 
 either of could or covld not. Mr Mill's reply to 
 this ought, I think, as coming from such a man, 
 to take rank as a curiosity of literature, in this par- 
 ticular branch of it : — ' Mr Alexander's idea of the 
 ' conditions of proof by experience is not a very 
 ' enlarged one. Suppose that my experience of myself 
 ' afforded two undeniable cases, alike in all the mental 
 ' and physical antecedents, in one of which cases T 
 ' acted in one way, and in the other in the direct 
 ' opposite ; there would then be proof by experience, 
 ' that I had been able to act either in the one way or 
 ' the other.' There would, indeed, tTwn be proof, as 
 stated. But nobody living ought to know better than 
 Mr Mill, that his instance of experience supposed is one 
 utterly impossible; that 'two tmdeniahle cases, alike 
 ' in all the mental and physical antecedents' never 
 occurred, or could occur, either in his 'experience of 
 ' himself,' or in any other person's experience ; that the 
 mere difference in point of time, in itself inessential 
 for the argument, must needs involve and necessitate 
 other and most essential differences in the ' mental and 
 'physical antecedents,' so that the identity supposed 
 'undeniable' would not only be extremely deniable, 
 but is not, without plain absurdity, to be asserted. 
 Surely in the second of Mr MiU's two cases supposed, 
 there could not but be present a whole series of ante- 
 cedents, not present in the first; to wit, the highly 
 important series evolved hy the first case itself, the 
 
20 Freedom as tested by Experience. 
 
 antecedent of having acted so, with other antecedents 
 to be summed as the intermediate result of his having 
 so acted. In this obvious consideration alone, were 
 there no others, Mr Mill's supposition is stultified. Its 
 futility may be further made manifest, by considering 
 how Mr Mill would deal with such a case as that put 
 by himself, if he found it alleged against him. Con- 
 stantly it occurs that a man who in certain circum- 
 stances has acted in a particular way, on a recurrence 
 of circumstances which se,em to be precisely similar, is 
 found, on some incalculable whim or caprice, to act in 
 a way quite different. Dr Eeid was capable of draw- 
 ing from such a case an inference of human Freedom. 
 Does Mr Mill admit the inference ? Not in the least ; 
 he would scout with scorn the notion that the two sets 
 of antecedents, however they might seem to be alike, 
 actually w&re so; and infer some subtle occult differ- 
 ence in the causes to account for the difference in the 
 effect. No amount of evidence would, in such a case, 
 avail to convince Mr Mill of the identity of the two 
 sets of antecedents. It is, however, possible, according 
 to Mr Mill, to find ' two undeniable cases, alike in all 
 ' the antecedents.' Let us suppose Mr Mill to have 
 found them ; he has convinced himself, by an accurate 
 and exhaustive analysis, that ' all the antecedents are 
 alike;' the identity is to Mr MiU undeniable. And 
 now suppose— unless Mr MiU means boldly to beg the 
 question in his own favour, he must admit the legiti- 
 macy of the supposition — that much to Mr Mill's 
 surprise, a different action should in the second case be 
 
Freedom as tested by Expe^Hejice. 2 1 
 
 found to ensue! Mr Mill would fhm be bound to 
 admit Freedom. But would he admit it % Nothing of 
 the kind, of course ; Mr Mill would merely hum and 
 haw a little, as men do when they find themselves in 
 difficulty ; surmise, as indeed he well might, that there 
 must have been some mistake; that his analysis of the 
 conditions could not have been quite so exhaustive as 
 he had supposed it; and conclude with resolutely 
 denying the identity before announced undeniable. 
 Certainly, wherever he might find himself at a loss, it 
 could scarce be in the reasonings by which he sought 
 to show that in announcing the identity undeniable, 
 he had been somewhat a rash philosopher, and more or 
 less oblivious of principles elsewhere by himself in- 
 sisted on. It would be well if Mr Mill, in this relation, 
 would bethink him of his own arguments, exhibiting 
 the futility of the 'Experimental Method,' as applied 
 to the phenomena of Society. They equally exhibit 
 its futility, as here applied by himself, to illustrate a 
 psychological problem. No more in the one than in 
 the other field, can the Past, by any possibility, repro- 
 duce itself with exactitude sufficient to ground any 
 valid induction. In a word, Mr Mill's supposed ' two 
 ' undeniable cases, alike in all the mental and physical 
 ' antecedents,' can exist only as a temporary hallucina- 
 tion in the brain of Mr Mill supposing them. My 
 'idea of the conditions of proof by experience' may 
 not be ' very enlarged,' but Mr Mill is not likely to 
 succeed in enlarging it by a fabrication of instances 
 outside of all possible experience, and which, were it 
 
2 2 Freedom not to be tested by Experience. 
 
 fairly put to him, he could not but admit to be so.^ If 
 Mr Mill can only confute my argument as to experience, 
 by the putting of cases which could never in experience 
 occur, it seems plain that in seeking to confute, he has 
 somewhat forcibly confirmed it. I must therefore con- 
 tinue to think that in here writing as he did — ' If our 
 ' so-caUed Consciousness of what we are able to do (of 
 ' Freedom) is not horm out hy experience, it is a delu- 
 ' sion,' Mr Mill exhibited some little misapprehension 
 as to the relation of Experience to the matter in hand ; 
 making Freedom, as test of its truth, demand from 
 experience a ratification, in the very nature of the case 
 impossible, were Freedom thrice over assumed. 
 
 As a mere point of curiosity, it is perhaps worth a 
 moment's consideration, to what extent the experience 
 which Mr Mill considers possible of 'undeniable cases 
 alike,' &c., supposing it not to confirm, would invalidate 
 our alleged consciousness of Freedom. Of tv)o alter- 
 natives we choose one. From the experience that we 
 did choose one, there is plainly no inference whatever 
 against our power to have chosen the other. No one 
 will be so absurd as to aUege in a man's choice of one 
 of two alternatives, a contradiction by experience of 
 
 1 I venture to presume Mr Mill would admit this, were it only on 
 the evidence of such passages as the following : — ' There is not one of 
 ' the facts surrounding a human being, or of the events which happen 
 ' to him, that does not influence in some mode or degree his subsequent 
 'mental history." 'It is certain that our mental states, and our 
 ' mental capacities and susceptibilities, are modified, either for a time 
 ' or permanently, by everything which happens to us in life ' (in 
 which last the clause 'for a time' had better, I think, be extruded 
 on grounds sufficiently obvious).— Zogrjc, vol. ii., chap. "Ethology."' 
 
Freedom an 'Interpretation of Experience! 23 
 
 his consciousness of a power to have chosen eiiher of 
 the two. And now, suppose an ' undeniable case ' in 
 which all the antecedents are exactly reproduced, and 
 in which it is found that again this one alternative is 
 chosen. Experience, which before told us that the 
 man acted so, now tells us he has acted so twice,; but 
 it seems as far as before from telling us that he could 
 not have acted otherwise. Supposing a man free to act 
 otherwise, surely he might yet act so, and again and 
 again so act. And as of two cases, so it might almost 
 seem of two thousand — the two thousandth case of his 
 acting so, would prove no more than the first perhaps, 
 that he coidd not have acted otherwise. Experience 
 would simply assure us that the man had acted in the 
 one way two thousand times in succession. As the 
 cases are plainly supposititious, and could never in 
 experience emerge, it does not seem to matter a pinch 
 of snuff whether I am right or wrong in this. 
 
 In a postscript to the little Essay which Mr Mill has 
 honoured with some share of his attention, intended to 
 correct somewhat of suspected crudity in my first state- 
 ment of this particular point, I noted Mr Mill's aver- 
 ment that our so-called Consciousness of Freedom ' has 
 ' no title to credence except as an interpretation of ex- 
 'perience, and if it is a false interpretation, it must 
 ' give way ; ' and I did not seek to deny, that if it was, 
 as Mr Mill said, merely ' an interpretation of experi- 
 ence,' it ran some risk, as conflicting with Mr Mill's 
 ' complete induction from experience.' But I asked of 
 what special ' experience ' it was that Mr Mill supposed 
 
24 Freedom an ^ Interp7'etation of Experie^tce. 
 
 ' it an interpretation ; ' and whether it was not wildly 
 absurd to suppose that we should habitually ' interpret ' 
 our experience (the sole one possible for us) of having 
 done one of two things, into a consciousness of being 
 able to have done the otlier. Wild as seems the ab- 
 surdity, I cannot but think, Mr MOl, who offers no 
 explanation, is still fully committed to it. It might 
 indeed be alleged, in reply, that I ignore the previous 
 deliberative experience, of which probably it is — it 
 might be said, — and not of the immediate experience 
 of act, that Mr Mill considers our ' so-called conscious- 
 ness,' a mis- interpretation.' Two courses of conduct 
 are before us, and we are in doubt which to choose. 
 The mind oscillates between the two, considering now 
 one, now the other ; and feehng, whilst each is before 
 it, an inclination to choose it, and a sense of ability to 
 do so. Finally it chooses one; and recalhng those 
 items of the deliberative experience of which the other 
 was the object, it illusively transfers them to the in- 
 stant of act, and infers its ability at that instant to have 
 actually chosen, not the one it did choose, but the 
 other — infers, in a word, its Freedom. In this sense 
 our consciousness of Freedom might, with some plausi- 
 bility, be represented as an inference from, or interpre- 
 tation of, experience — which, 'if shown to be false, 
 must give way.' Had this been the ground occupied 
 by Mr MiU, the further inquiry would necessarily have 
 emerged, whether in the very experience interpreted 
 there was not already involved the authentic conscious- 
 ness of Freedom, said to be a merely erroneous ' inter- 
 
Mr Mill in the right. 25 
 
 pretation ' of it ? But, as against Mr Mill, it is happily 
 not necessary to discuss this somewhat nice and obscure 
 question ; for of the saving suggestions above he cannot 
 in the least have the benefit. The ' experience ' he really 
 means is quite too clearly indicated — ' We never know 
 ' that we are able to do a thing except from our having 
 ' done it. We should not know that we are capable of 
 ' action at all if we had never acted. Having acted, 
 ' we know, as far as that experience readies, hoiu we are 
 ' able to act', &c. ; and it seems positively to shut him 
 Tip to the surely rather ludicrous notion that we ' inter- 
 pret ' our doing of one thing to mean, not that we really 
 did that thing, but that we could have done — another} 
 A little further on in this ISTote (p. 566), I admit 
 correction at the hand of Mr Mill ; and I am aU. the 
 more bound to do so, that my falsely made point 
 against him was precisely of a kind likely to be rather 
 telling with the ruck of half-instructed readers — 'It 
 ' would hardly be worth while to notice a pretended 
 ' inconsistency discovered by Mr Alexander between 
 
 1 The account hypothetically here given of our conviction of Free- 
 dom, as merely a hallucinatory reminiscence of what takes place in 
 the process of deliberation, is plainly that pointed at hy Hume, when 
 in ' Note F (Essays),^ he says that ' the Will moves easily every, way, 
 ' and produces an image of itself (or a velleity, as it is called iu the 
 ' schools), even on that side, on which it did not settle.' The ques- 
 tion, a somewhat nice one, as to whether or no the origination of 
 our feeling of Freedom can be thus sufficiently accounted for, 
 I have not to discuss with Mr Mill, by whom it is not mooted. 
 Further on (p. 127), it will be found that I return to this point 
 — which I do not remember to have seen investigated — offering 
 simply so much remark on it as seems needful for the purpose in 
 hand. 
 
26 Mr Mill in the right. 
 
 ' what is here said and my recognition in a former work 
 ' of a " practical feeling of Free-will," " a feeling of 
 ' Moral Freedom we are conscious of," if Mr Alexander 
 ' had not inferred from it that I " was at one time con- 
 ' scions" of what I now, for the convenience of my 
 ' argument, deny to be a subject of consciousness. Mr 
 ' Alexander himself quotes the words in which I spoke 
 ' of thi^ practical feeling of free-will as not one of 
 ' free-will at all in a sense implying the theory, 
 ' and took pains to describe what it really is.' The 
 justice of Mr Mill's criticism here I quite frankly 
 allow ; — the more readily that, without aid from Mr 
 Mill, I had already, on a reconsideration of the mat- 
 ter, detected the mistake I had fallen into. Dr 
 Johnson, once upon a time, when questioned by a 
 lady at a literary tea-party as to how he could pos- 
 sibly have been guilty of some trivial admitted error 
 in his Dictionary, answered with brusque candour, 
 ' Ignorance, madam, was the cause of it — gross and 
 ' inexcusable ignorance.' I suppose I may as well 
 emulate the Doctor, and simply admit here stupidity. 
 My stupidity, I admit, was gross ; and I have only 
 this little excuse to offer for it. When Mr Mill, in 
 the opening of his chapter on this subject in the 
 Logic, spoke of the 'practical feeling of Free-will 
 common to all mankind,' naturally, I humbly sub- 
 mit, though I grant very incompetently (the chapter 
 being studied as a whole), I supposed him to mean 
 the practical feeling in the matter, which really is 
 ' common to all mankind ; ' and when he afterwards 
 
Mr Mill in the right. 2 7 
 
 spoke of 'the sense of moral Freedom we are con- 
 scious of/ I merely went on in my blunder, omitting 
 to note sharply that this sense of moral Freedom 
 was expressly by Mr Mill defined as no more than 
 'a feeling of being able to modify our character, 
 if we, wish.' But this is not, I maintain, 'the prac- 
 tical feeling of Free-will common to all mankind,' 
 Mr Mill himself included. Mr Mill's own ' practical 
 feeling of Freedom' is something considerably more 
 than this. If — as with no great pains I hope to be 
 able to do presently — I can distinctly show this, I shall 
 not, indeed, have acquitted myself of misunderstanding 
 Mr Mill ; but, more or less, I may have made obvious 
 how it was that, not altogether inexcusably perhaps 
 (some admitted laxity in perusal allowed for), I came 
 to so misunderstand him. 
 
28 Consciousness of Freedom. 
 
 III. 
 
 Note — -ipage, 567. 
 
 With a certain deep end of my own, premising that, 
 within the space of a minute, Mr Mill was to put his 
 finger to one side of his nose or the other, I desired to 
 be informed — apologising for the somewhat too homely 
 nature of the instance — ^whether, having touched the 
 left side of his nose, Mr Mill did not f&d he could 
 have willed to touch, and touched, its right side ? 
 This to more than one of my critics has seemed to 
 be shocking irreverence. The coarse insinuation that 
 Mr Mill has actually a nose, these critics have gravely 
 resented as an insult to so profound a philosopher. 
 Had I insinuated that Mr Mill was destitute of a 
 nose, I could have better understood their objection. 
 Mr Mill himself, in regard of my 'homely instance,' 
 is less sensitive than some of his friends, and has 
 nothing more savage to say of it than that it ' reminds 
 him of the asinus Buridani! 'Mr Alexander's naif 
 ' expectation that his opponent's answer will be differ- 
 ' ent, because of the futility of the example, reminds 
 ' one of the asinus Bwiclani.' Seeing I purposely 
 
Consciousness of Freedom. 29 
 
 constructed it somewhat on that model, I cannot be 
 at all surprised at this. From Buridan's puzzle it 
 differs but slightly; yet the two are not quite iden- 
 tical. Had I asserted that on Mr Mill's principles, 
 in the absence of any assignable motive to determine 
 him to touch one side of his nose rather than the other, 
 he could not, when asked to do so, have touched 
 his nose at aU on either side, the identity would 
 have been nearly complete. As it is, the similarity 
 is sufficient to account for Mr Mill's being reminded 
 of the more ancient example. In order to estimate 
 the value of Mr Mill's subsequent rejoinder here, 
 let me glance for an instant at the purpose with 
 which I was led to invent so apparently 'futile' a 
 case. I wished to try if by such a device it might 
 be possible to get Mr Mill to give to a conspicuously 
 plain question the plain answer, which he seemed 
 resolute to avoid giving. The question before Mr 
 Mill was the sufficiently simple one — doing so, don't 
 you feel you had power to do otherwise ?■ Have you, 
 or have you not, a consciousness, so defined, of Free- 
 dom ? This question, as I insisted, ' asks simply a 
 Yea or a Nay on a candid self-interrogation,' and is 
 not, except evasively, in any other terms to be an- 
 swered. But no answer in these frank terms was, 
 it seemed, to be had from Mr Mill. No answer at 
 all to the question put to him, Have you or no such 
 a consciousness ? was in fact to be had from Mr 
 Mill, who, instead of answering this question, kept 
 answering the entirely different one — Can this con- 
 
30 Consciousness of Freedom. 
 
 sciousness of Freedom alleged give good logical account 
 of itself ? He persisted, as I said, 'in answering the one 
 question in terms suggested by the other ;' asking as to 
 his consciousness of Freedom, instead of the Yes or No 
 desired, we received in reply 'a synopsis of Neces- 
 sitarian argument.' As thus — ' I am told,' writes Mr 
 Mill, 'that if I elect to murder, I am conscious I 
 ' could have elected to abstain. B%t am, I conscious 
 ' that I could have abstained, if my aversion to the 
 ' crime and my dread of its consequences had leen 
 ' weaker than the temptation ? If I elect to abstain, 
 ' in what sense am, I conscious that I could have elected 
 ' to commit the crime ? Only if I had desired to com- 
 ' mit it ivith a desire stronger than my horror of murder; 
 ' not with one less strong! Mr Mill is told he is con- 
 scious of so and so, and implicitly the question is put 
 to him, Is it so, or is it not 1 The question thus put 
 to him Mr Mill answers by putting another question, 
 'But am I conscious,' &c. &c.? I take leave to say 
 that, in a sense, this is exceedingly Scotch metaphysics, 
 though I am confident no sample of the sort is to be 
 met with either in Eeid or Stewart. Mr Mill cannot 
 surely suppose that, in putting this other question, he 
 is answering the question put to him. If it be not 
 essentially another question, where is the force of the 
 hut with which he must needs preface it? His de- 
 liverance, in point of fact, amounts to this — But really 
 now, is this Freedom, about which you interrogate me, 
 capable of being construed to thought, or reduced to 
 a rational statement? Again — 'I therefore dispute 
 
Mr Mill's evasion of the point. 3 1 
 
 ' altogether that we are conscious of leing able to act 
 ' in opposition to the strongest present desire or aver- 
 ' sion.' Mr Mill is welcome to dispute modes of 
 consciousness which are not those asserted.'- But 
 surely nothing can be much more evident than 
 that a man who, when asked, Acting so, don't you 
 feel you could have acted otherwise ? insists, as 
 here and throughout, on rambling off into a con- 
 sideration of temptations, desires, and aversions, their 
 relative strength, and so on, has left the simple ground of 
 feeling or consciousness to expatiate on that of reason- 
 
 ^ Our consciousness alleged of Freedom is practically, and surely 
 quite intelligibly, defined, as a feeling that doing so we had yet a 
 power to do otherwise. Freedom is thus practically and intelligibly 
 defined a power to do otherwise than as we do. Speculatively, it is 
 not intelligibly to be defined at all, the attempt at a speculative defini- 
 tion resulting in one or other of these forms of solecism — a power to 
 act without a motive, to originate a ' motiveless volition,' or a power 
 to act 'in opposition to the strongest motive,' involving the contra- 
 diction that the strongest motive is in point of fact not the strongest. 
 But nobody ever yet, that I know of, asserted a consciousness of 
 Freedom under either of these speculative forms of solecism ; and 
 until such a, mode of consciousness is asserted, Mr Mill, in 'dis- 
 puting ' it, has the dispute entirely to himself. He is merely setting 
 up a paltry puppet, the triumph involved in the bowling over of 
 which, and carefully setting it up again once more to bowl it down, 
 seems essentially a triumph of the poorest. 
 
 In vain would Mr Mill allege that ' to do otherwise than as we do, ' 
 and to 'act in opposition to the strongest motive,' are really the same 
 thing. For — admitting it no otherwise to be conceived of — how did 
 Mr Mill become aware of this ? How but by a course of speculative 
 inquiry, leading him to a theory of human action as in every case 
 strictly determined by the balance of the desires and aversions. 
 And into the question of ' practical feeling ' or consciousness, to 
 intrude Ms speculative theories, is to evade the question in its proper 
 simplicity, and involve the whole matter in confusion. 
 
32 Device in order to bring him to it. 
 
 ing. In aid of this vice of Mr Mill, who would plainly 
 never answer the question put in the frank terms of 
 Yea or Nay — which are really the only ones to be 
 tolerated — so long as escape was possible for him into 
 the region of motives, desires, and aversions, it occurred 
 to me to frame an instance for him, from which the very 
 ghost of anything to be called a rational motive seemed 
 excluded ; and, in hitting on the case suggested, of the 
 two sides of his nose, I considered I had indifferently 
 succeeded. Obvious accidents of disturbance excluded 
 — which perhaps to specify minutely might subject me 
 to a charge of further irreverence — it is impossible Mr 
 Mill should seriously allege anything to be called a 
 motive, for his touching the left side of his nose in- 
 stead of the right, which equally solicits a preference. 
 Motives are not here of course absent ; but merely so 
 rarefied, or attenuated, as utterly to elude appreciation 
 and defy articulate statement. If I allowed myself to 
 cherish ' expectation ' that in the absence of all motives 
 and desires assignable, Mr Mill might perhaps be be- 
 guiled into an answer, not hopelessly embarrassed hke 
 his previous ones, with considerations of motive and 
 desire, irrelevant to the question put to him, and only 
 pertinent to a wholly different one, that expectation is 
 indeed proved by the result, a na%f and even stupid 
 one. Mr Mill being asked,— having touched the left 
 side of his nose, does he feel or does he not, he could 
 have elected to touch the right side ? and passionately 
 entreated to answer so simple a question 'without 
 ' bringing any of his logical great guns to bear upon it,' 
 
Mr Mill persisient in Evasion. 33 
 
 thus answers, with what seems to me a very loud and 
 full salvo of thetn — ' I should, on the supposition which 
 ' he makes, be aware (I wiU not say conscious) that I 
 ' could have touched the right, had I so willed it ; and 
 ' aware that I could, or even should have so willed, if 
 ' there, had existed a sufficient inducement, not otherwise. 
 ' If any one's consciousness tells him that he could ham 
 ' done so without an inducement, or in opposition to a 
 ' stronger indv,cement, I venture to express my opinion, 
 ' in words borrowed from Mr Alexander, that it is not 
 ' his " veritable consciousness." ' And now, may I 
 simply ask of Mr MiU — the disturbances of course 
 apart, at which I only timidly ventured to glance — 
 what shadow of anything to be rationally called an in- 
 ducement — either weak or strong — does his 'veritable 
 ' consciousness ' inform him of, for touching, in the case 
 supposed, the side of his nose which he did touch, in 
 preference to the other 1 Would Mr Mill be good 
 enough to expound to us the inducement ? If he can- 
 not — and I believe him much too shrewd to commit 
 himself to such an attempt — is it not sufficiently obvi- 
 ous, that Mr Mill here, in obstinately declining, as be- 
 fore, to answer the question put to him in the desired 
 terms of Tea or Nay ; and proceeding to discourse with 
 philosophical gravity of inducements (of which the only 
 account to be given is, that for his steady purpose of' 
 evasion, he must needs imply or assert them), — simply 
 illustrates anew and more forcibly the confusion in 
 which he persists in involving the subject? Having 
 acted so, don't you feel you could have acted otherwise ? 
 c 
 
34 Mr Mill's Evasions accoimted for. 
 
 Yes or No ? To this conspicuously plain question, it 
 seems, a plain answer cannot be coaxed from Mr Mill, 
 even if we concoct charms for him. Cart-ropes, per- 
 haps, could not drag it out of him ; and it may even 
 be, that his philosophical constancy in the matter 
 might emulate that of the martyr, and be proof against 
 the ' torture of the boot,' if applied. 
 
 When a gentleman in the witness-box steadily de- 
 clines to answer a plain question put to him ; escapes 
 upon an evasion ; and on being desired by counsel to 
 observe that it is an inadmissible evasion, simply re- 
 peats the evasion, when the question is anew put to 
 him in a form purposely shaped to exclude it; the 
 feeling in court is apt to be, that the witness is a little 
 in a difficulty, and that the question is one to which it 
 does not suit him to give a plain answer. If we simi- 
 larly infer in the present case, that Mr Mill, in the 
 matter of his feeling of Freedom, obstinately refuses 
 the Yea or Nay desired and indeed implored of him, as 
 the brief and only competent answer, simply because 
 such an answer sans phrase would be inconvenient for 
 him, we shall not be much out in the inference. His 
 true feeling in the matter incidentally becomes obvious 
 further on (p. 583), when, in defining the conditions 
 under which ' exemption ' from moral criminality must 
 be accorded to acts, under other conditions held crim- 
 inal, he says—' Yes, if he really " could not help " acting 
 ' as he did — that is, if it did not depend on his will ; if 
 ' he was under physical constraint, or even if he was 
 ' under the action of such a violent motive that no fear 
 
Mr Mill's Evasions accotmted for. 35 
 
 ' of punislinieiit could have any effect ; ■which, if cap- 
 ' able of being ascertained, is a jnst ground of exemp- 
 ' tion.' Certain of his actions excepted, therefore, on 
 the ground that he ' could not help ' them, all his other 
 voluntary actions (the actions which ' depend on his 
 ' Will'), Mr Mill unmistakably implies, it is in the 
 power of the man to ' help.' Doing so, the man could 
 yet have helped doing so, and done otherwise. To this 
 Mr MlU. is here fully committed, not merely as his 
 practical feeling in the matter, but as positively his 
 real belief And this of a power in us to help doing 
 as we do, or do otherwise, is the express definition of 
 Freedom. Can the proof be more clear and explicit 
 than it is in the light of this passage — from which, as 
 now reissued with the stamp of his careful revision 
 upon it, Mr Mill cannot possibly withdraw — that, as 
 I pledged myself to show, Mr Mill, even whilst de- 
 clining to admit in himself Hodge's practical feeling 
 of Freedom, has it all the same, just as Hodge has ? 
 The reader, I may hope, sees now with sufficient clear- 
 ness the raison d'etre of Mr Mill's insuperable reluc- 
 tance to give us a plain Yes or Wo to a question which 
 can properly no otherwise be answered. Could he 
 have been got to do so, to the question — doing so, is it 
 or not your feeling, you could yet have helped doing so, 
 or done otherwise ? — he must inevitably have answered, 
 I could ' have helped it,' I was free to do otherwise — 
 such is my genuine feeling in the matter. And this 
 feeling, I may observe en passant, amounts to something 
 very different from ' the practical feeling of free-will 
 
2,6 Mr Mill a Believer in Freedom. 
 
 ' common to all mankind,' defined by Mr Mill in the 
 Logic, as no more than ' a feeling of being able to 
 ' modify our character if ive, luish! i 
 
 I don't the least intend, in any of the above remarks, 
 to impeach Mr Mill's candour, or imply that he con- 
 sciously shirks a question, as knowing it would be 
 awkward for him to answer it. But that, in point of 
 fact, he does shirk a question, which there is evidence 
 he could not have candidly answered except as his 
 , opponents would wish him to do, seems simply a thing 
 proved. For it is not to be supposed that Mr Mill, in 
 writing, reconsidering, and rewriting ' Yes, if he really 
 "could not Ae/jj" acting as he did,' &c., was all the 
 time ignorant of his own meaning, or innocent of mean- 
 ing at all. Touching the slight alteration in the 
 passage, made by Mr Mill in revision of it, something 
 may hereafter be said. (See page 116, et seq.) 
 
 ^ As to this, ' ' we can modify our character, if we wish" (or loill, as Mr 
 Mill elsewhei-e puts it), we shall, as we proceed, see what after all it 
 amounts to (p. 94). 
 
A W of ul Picture. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Note — ]}age bib. 
 
 ' Me Alexander draws a woful picture of the pass wliicli 
 mankind ■would come to, if belief in so-caUed Necessity be- 
 came general. AU " our current moralities " would come 
 to be regarded as " a form of superstition ; " all "moral ideas 
 as illusions," by wliiob " it is plain we get rid of them as 
 motives ; " and consequently the internal sanctions of con- 
 science would no longer exist. " The external sanctions 
 "remain, but not quite as they were. That important 
 " section of them which rests on the moral approval or dis- 
 " approval of our feUow-men has of course evaporated ; " 
 and " in virtue of a deadly moral indifference," the remaining 
 external sanctions " might come to be more languidly en- 
 forced than as now they are," and the progressive degra- 
 dation would in a suflS-cient time " succeed in reproducing 
 the real original gorilla." A formidable prospect ; but Mr 
 Alexander must not suppose that other people's feelings about 
 the matters of the highest importance to them are bound up 
 with a certaiu speculative dogma, and even a certain form 
 of words, because, it seems, his are. As long as guUt is 
 thoroughly regarded as an evil, it would be quite safe even 
 to hold with Plato that it is the mental equivalent of bodily 
 disease ; people would be none the less anxious to avoid it 
 in themselves and to cure it in others. Whatever else may 
 
38 A Wofid Picture. 
 
 be an illusion, it is no illusion that some types of conduct 
 and character are salutary, and others pernicious to the race 
 and to each of its members ; and there is no fear that man- 
 kind ■wUl not retain the property of their nature by whieh 
 they prefer what is salutary to what is pernicious, and pro- 
 claim and act upon the preference. It is no illusion that 
 human beings are objects of sympathy or of antipathy as 
 they belong to the. one type or to the other, and that the 
 sympathies and antipathies excited in us by others react on 
 ourselves. The qualities which each man feels to be odious 
 in others, are odious, without illusion, in himself. The 
 basis of Mr Alexander's gloomy prophecy thus fails him.' 
 
 The passage here criticised by Mr Mill was really no 
 more than it professed itself ; a mere ' swift confused 
 outline not worth taking any great pains with ' in the 
 writing; and for all its bearing on the subject, Mr 
 Mill needs scarce have been at pains to criticise it. 
 Further, it was professedly the merest fancy sketch of 
 ' tendencies ' calculated on ' a hypothesis to be regarded 
 as practically an impossible one.' To criticise it from 
 the ground of the actual, as Mr Mill here does, is there- 
 fore plainly illegitimate. ' The hasis of Mr Alexander's 
 ' gloomy prophecy thus fails him ! ' Of a prophecy, 
 no more than a sportive flight of fancy, and, as such, 
 announcing itself based on ' a practically impossible 
 hypothesis,' where is the sense of such a criticism ? 
 In the very nature of the case, the basis of my pro- 
 phecy, in Mr Mill's serious sense, fails me ; but as I 
 built on it only a very slight card-castle, as knowing it 
 an ' impossible ' basis, and distinctly admitting it such. 
 
Mr Mill's Criticism of it. 39 
 
 what becomes of the basis of Mr Mill's elaborate criti- 
 cism ? As a criticism it has plainly no meaning ; as a 
 demonstration of the impossibility of an admittedly 
 'impossible hypothesis,' it seems to have considerable 
 merit, but might almost be considered superfluous. 
 Moreover, such as it was, my sketch, in assuming a 
 world of Necessitarians, assumed them as not only 
 understanding their own doctrine, but as destitute of 
 every feeling or impulse not logically to be brought 
 into harmony with it; not as ISTecessitarians of Mr 
 Mill's type, who so little understand their own doctrine, 
 that, believing in Necessity or unconditional Causation, 
 they don't in the least cease to believe with their op- 
 ponents who advocate Freedom, that they 'could have 
 helped ' their every action ; with all the results which 
 may hold of this. And perhaps it might be shown, 
 were it worth while, that in regard of the passage in 
 question, and Mr Mill's deliverance upon it, this dis- 
 tinction is not one wholly without a difference ; but 
 clearly it could not be worth while, the very basis of 
 Mr Mill's deliverance being, as we have seen it, erro- 
 neous. One or two random remarks may suffice. 
 
 That ' it would be quite safe to hold with Plato, that 
 guilt is the mental equivalent of bodily disease ' (almost 
 as a matter of course Plato does not hold this ; what 
 he holds is, that guilt is an analogue of bodily disease, 
 which is not exactly an eq-wivalent^), I can scarcely 
 concede to Mr Mill. On this ground, that plainly it 
 
 ^ His view is in no essential respect different from that set forth by 
 Butler, in his three introductory Sermons. Ee also maintains that 
 
40 Mr Mill's Criticism of it considered. 
 
 ■would cease to be considered guilt in the understood 
 sense of the term. The word culpable would cease to 
 have a meaning, and we should no more hlame a man 
 for murdering his mother than for having an attack of 
 typhus. "We should not the less continue to 'thoroughly 
 regard his act as an evil ' — imprimis, from the point of 
 view of sympathy with the poor old lady, probably 
 foolish enough to love her own life a little ; and 
 further, as prospectively threatening ourselves, a little 
 like the old lady enamoured of our own very foolish 
 lives. But as moral evil, plainly we should not regard 
 it ; moral as distinct from natural evil, and as ground 
 of blame or disapproval {moral, of course, for there are 
 other forms of disapproval), would not any longer be 
 recognised either in ourselves or others. The internal 
 sanctions of conscience would clearly in this view be 
 nowhere. Considering how indifferently we get on 
 with the internal and external sanctions combined, I 
 confess I should look upon our safety as more or less 
 compromised were we left to depend for it solely on 
 the latter. That 'we should still be anxious' (on 
 obvious grounds I cannot go quite Mr Mill's length of 
 ' not the less anxious ') ' to avoid it for ourselves,' &c. 
 &c. &c. In all this Mr Mill, if he supposes he is 
 fighting any one, is at least not fighting me. Inasmuch 
 as he here says no more than I had myself said in 
 writing, that even in default of the moral relations of 
 
 Virtue is, in a sense, the health, and Vice the disease, of the mind ; 
 and in point of fact all moralists, of whatever school, are, I should 
 say, pretty much agreed as to this. 
 
Mr Mill's Criticism of it considered. 41 
 
 actions, ' relations to utility would remain, on which 
 ' ground we might properly encourage the one class 
 ' of persons, and discourage the other by hanging 
 ' them as good riddance, and some hint of a warning 
 ' to a public supposed amenable to motive,' I can 
 hire of course have no dispute with him. Whatever 
 we make of morality, pleasure is pleasure, pain, pain ; 
 and on mere motives of fear and appetite, systemati- 
 cally worked to that end. Society, in some brutal and 
 degraded form of it, might still perhaps contrive to 
 exist. ' I might add, that even if his groundless an- 
 ' ticipations ' (sportively set forth as groundless) ' came 
 ' to pass in some other manner, and disinterested love 
 ' of virtue and hatred of guilt faded away from the 
 ' earth ; though the human race, thus degenerated, 
 ' would be little worth preserving, it would probably 
 ' iind the means of preserving itself notwithstanding.' 
 Had Mr Mill, in doing me the compliment to read 
 and reply to me (it is one which, in all seriousness, I 
 appreciate), done me the further compliment of read- 
 ing me with a little attention, he could not possibly 
 have supposed that here he was joining issue with me. 
 All this I can very well concede to Mr Mill, as having 
 myself implied it, as we saw, in the work he is criticis- 
 ing ; and in one further remark which he makes in 
 relation to this topic, I frankly admit myself corrected. 
 ' The external sanctions, instead of being more lan- 
 ' guidly, would probably be far more rigorously enforced 
 ' than at present ; far more rigorous penalties would be 
 ' necessary, when there was less inward sentiment to 
 
42 His Criticism at one Point Successful. 
 
 ' aid them ; and however destitute of pure virtuous 
 ' feeling mankind might be, each of them would be far 
 ' too well aware of the importance of other people's 
 ' conduct to his own interest, not to exact those 
 ' penalties without stint, and without any of the 
 ' scruples which at present make conscientious men 
 ' afraid of carrying repression too far.' It gives me 
 pleasure to be so criticised. Could a sic omnia have 
 been written over Mr Mill's remarks throughout, my 
 pleasure might perhaps have been marred more or less, 
 and any little gaudia certaminis I might have promised 
 myself in running a tilt with Mr Mill must needs have 
 come much to grief. What I said as to the ' external 
 sanctions' being likely, on the disappearance of the 
 ' internal' ones, to be 'more languidly' enforced, was, 
 I believe, from my own point of view, correct enough, 
 in as far as that there would be such a tendency; but I 
 omitted to take into account the j^sr contra suggested 
 by Mr Mill, which is really, I think, of clearly prepon- 
 derating importance. I admit that my ' woful picture ' 
 was, even as a fancy picture to this extent, plainly 
 a faulty one. Mr Mill is not quite the philosophical 
 good girl of a Fairy Tale very many of his admirers 
 have supposed him. All his words are not necessarily 
 pearls and rubies ; but he cannot speak, even in Parlia- 
 ment, without dropping an occasional jewel, which 
 might almost seem out of place there as distracting to 
 nine in ten of the senators ; and on no subject could 
 he possibly write, at some point of which he would not 
 sparkle, as here. 
 
Mr Mill involved in Contradictories. 43 
 
 Fundamentally flawed, as we have seen it, this pas- 
 sage of Mr Mill has had somewhat more of my attention 
 than it ' deserves,' or will quite ' repay.' ISTot the less 
 on one significant clause of it I must further proceed 
 to remark : ' A formidable prospect ! But Mr Alex- 
 • ander must not suppose that other people's feelings 
 ' about the matters of the highest importance to them, 
 ' are bound up with a certain speculative dogma, and 
 ' even a certain form of words, because, it seems, his are.' 
 Truth is one, as I understand the matter ; and if my 
 ' speculative dogma' conflicts with my ' practical feeling' 
 on a matter of whatever importance to me, I must sacri- 
 fice the one or the other, considered as a guarantee of 
 truth. If I hold to my 'speculative dogma,' I cannot 
 speculativdy regard the 'practical feeling' which conflicts 
 with it as aught but, so to phrase it, a document of illu- 
 sion. Mr Mill is, it seems, not embarrassed with any 
 considerations of this kind. As speculative dogma, he 
 asserts unconditional Causation as exclusive of human 
 Freedom. He asserts, that is — if in the least he knows 
 his own meaning — that no man can in anything liel-p 
 doing as he does. On the other hand, on what can 
 only be the ground of practical feeling, we have just 
 seen him assert — or im'ply, with a clearness equivalent 
 to assertion — that every man — certain specified cases 
 excepted — can help doing as he does ; which amounts 
 to an assertion — if again we suppose Mr Mill to know 
 his own meaning — of Freedom. These are contradic- 
 tory propositions, yet to both of them Mr Mill is clearly 
 committed. From which of them is it, that on finding 
 
44 Mr Mill's way out of the Difficulty. 
 
 the incongruity pressed upon him, Mr Mill would 
 elect to retire 1 From the last it would be of course — 
 to wit, that we can lulp our actions. And now, if we 
 cannot help our actions, on what ground does Mr Mill 
 continue to maintain that we are yet morally respon- 
 sible for them ? There is no ground on which he can 
 do so ; for we have it under his own hand — ' Yes, if he 
 really " could not help " acting as he did,' the man is 
 not morally criminal, aja.A justly the subject of punish- 
 ment. Mr Mill's ' speculative dogma ' is thus dis- 
 tinctly, on his own showing, seen to ground a direct 
 negation of the moral accountability of man. That Mr 
 MUl should think it competent for him at this point 
 to reclaim, — ' Oh ! my feelings on matters of such high 
 ' importance to me^ — my moral feelings — are not bound 
 ' up, whatever yours may be, with any speculative 
 ' dogma,' is simply a matter to be marvelled over. The 
 sole question in dispute is, as to whether these feelings, 
 the existence and supreme importance of which are 
 not by any one denied, can, divorced from all power in 
 us to help our actions, be shown to have a rational basis 
 — it is a purely speculative question. That here, as 
 elsewhere,^ Mr Mill should think it of importance to 
 
 1 ' That a person holding what is called the Necessitarian doctrine 
 ' should on that account feel that it would he unjust to punish him 
 ' for his wrong actions, seems to me the veriest of chimeras.' — Mill 
 on Samilion. 
 
 That Mr Mill's ' feelings about the matters of highest importance to 
 him ' are his feelings as to ' moral distinctions, ' no one can possibly 
 question, the sentence in the text being looked to, apropos of which 
 his Note is introduced. 
 
 See further on this point as follows, p. 112-113. 
 
Seems to be rather an tmhappy one. 45 , 
 
 allege, in regard of it, tM existence of the feelings them- 
 selves, thus announcing an obstinate practical convic- 
 tion or instinct as of weight against the opposed specu- 
 lative conclusion, is really as gross a blunder as Dr 
 Johnson's rough and ready refutation of Berkeley by 
 kicking a stone with his foot, by Mr Mill himself else- 
 where with scorn commented on. It is, in point of 
 fact, precisely the same blunder transferred to the 
 spiritual plane of thought. Mr Mill's scorn, like the 
 curses of the Eastern proverb, had better ' go home to 
 roost.' 
 
46 The Ethical Doctrine of Ptinishment. 
 
 V. 
 
 Note — ipage 579. 
 
 'How far Mr Alexander understands the first elements 
 of the ethical theory he denounces, is shown by one of his 
 arguments, which he is so fond of that he repeats it several 
 times, that if the protection of society is a sufficient reason 
 for hanging any one, it holds good for hanging an innocent 
 person or a madman (p. 56, 57, 65, 89). He repeatedly 
 says that this has just as deterring an effect as hanging a 
 real criminal ; being of opinion, apparently, that hanging a 
 person who is not guilty gives people a motive to abstain 
 from being guilty. As to the madman, he asks (p. 65) — 
 " How should the state of mind of the maniac, as unamen- 
 " able to motive, any way affect the'^fficacy of our hanging 
 " him for murder, as a means to deter others from murder % " 
 Mr Alexander really has no claim to be answered tUl he 
 has got a step or two beyond this. Perhaps, however, he 
 may be able to see, that all the deterring effect which hang- 
 ing can produce on men who are amenable to motive, is 
 produced by hanging men who are amenable to motive. 
 Hanging, in addition, those who are not amenable to motive, 
 adds nothing to the deterring effect, and is therefore a gra- 
 tuitous brutality.' 
 
Punishment. 4 7 
 
 In saying, in a sort of sub-sarcastic way, that I am 
 so fond of an argument tliat I repeat it several times, 
 the several pages being specified, Mr Mill is plainly of 
 opinion he triumphantly refutes my argument. But 
 surely in this there seems to be some logical fallacy, 
 unworthy of so strict an intelligence. It is just pos- 
 sible I may have been fond of my argument, as finding 
 it really a good one ; precisely on which ground, Mr 
 MUl, as at first sight disliking it (p. 56), might nat- 
 urally be much disgusted to meet with it again and 
 again (p. 57, 65, 89). It is precisely poor Jack's 
 complaint against the boatswain who scores his back 
 for him, that, having given him a cut with the cat, he 
 proceeds to ' repeat it several times,' to the extent of 
 two dozen or more, perhaps. That Mr Mill, though 
 escaping more easHy, has Jack Tar's reason to dislike 
 my pestilent argument, and resent, as he does, the re- 
 petition of it, will presently perhaps appear, from his 
 very small success in replying to it. 
 
 That I can anywhere be said to have denounced 
 Mr MiLL's Utilitarianism — further than as saying in 
 effect, that at times it lay open to the suspicion of 
 quietly assuming the ultimate moral basis, its need of 
 which is by implication denied — is simply not to be 
 alleged. For Mr Mill's Utilitarianism, as an ' ethical 
 system,' I have really nothing but respect. His book 
 on the subject, with the trifling limitation suggested, 
 is an admirable little treatise, in its kind to be held a 
 model. In holding that inductions of utility determine 
 what shall be consecrated as right, and what censured 
 
48 Mr Mill's Utilitarianism. 
 
 as wrong, I should be disposed to go nearly all lengths 
 with Mr Mill; and as to the 'Immutable Morality' 
 business, I regard it pretty much as a sort of reverend 
 old Mummy, which it is necessary to unswathe from 
 time to time, in the interest of Historical Science, but 
 which is now as defunct as Pharaoh. In fact it was, I 
 rather think, Mr MiU himself who conclusively slew 
 the good old doting creature. Did ever any one seri- 
 ously try to defend, as against his assault, the position 
 of Messrs Whewell and Sedgwick ? I do not in the 
 least know; but should rather suppose not. Going 
 along with Mr Mill so considerable a way as this, I 
 only venture to part company with him in questioning, 
 whether the primary moral conception or idea of right 
 and wrong, under which, as right and wrong, the va- 
 rious things held right and wrong come thus to group 
 themselves in contrast — and without which, as already 
 existing in the mind, it seems plain that rightness and 
 wrongness could of nothing whatever be predicated — 
 can be come at by any manipulation of considerations 
 merely utilitarian. This question — in which I do not 
 profess to see my way with anything like perfect clear- 
 ness, having only in the most cursory way considered 
 of it — I happily need not here meddle with, as confes- 
 sing myself much at a loss in regard of the matter in 
 hand, to discern its relation to Mr Mill's ' ethical sys- 
 tem,' and my assumed inability to understand it. It 
 would be pity indeed for Mr Mill's ethical theories, 
 which include so much that is valuable, if they had to 
 
Mr Mill's happiness in Quotation. 49 
 
 stand or fall with the reasonings wherewith he seems 
 here disposed to identify them. It is presented as ' Mr 
 ' Alexander's opinion that if the protection of society 
 ' is a sufficient reason for hanging any one, it holds 
 ' good for hanging an innocent person or a madman. 
 ' He repeatedly says that this has just as deterring an 
 ' effect as hanging a real criminal; heing of opinion, 
 ' apparently, that hanging a person who is not guilty 
 ' gives people a motive to abstain from heing guilty.' 
 What I wrote was — hanging a person who is not 
 guilty, ' the puhlic presumed ignorant of the little deceit 
 ' practised upon it;'^ in which case, it may be hoped 
 nothing in Mr Mill's ' ethical system ' precludes him 
 from clearly seeing that the effect upon the public 
 would be precisely the same as if the real criminal had 
 suffered. This clause I inserted for Mr MlLI's special 
 behoof, as remembering his criticism of M. Cousin on 
 this very point (vide Logic, vol. ii. chap. " Fallacies of 
 Observation ") ; ^ but it seems I might have spared my- 
 self the trouble, Mr Mill being pleased, as we see, to 
 
 ' Mill and Carlyle, p. 56 — the only passage which, to this subject 
 has reference. 
 
 ^ Mr Mill's reasoning, as against M. Cousin, seems not quite so 
 conclusive as might be wished ; inasmuch as in correcting what he 
 calls a 'fallacy of overlooking,' he himself proceeds to commit one. 
 He a little overlooks the fact, that it could never be as innocent, but 
 solely as guilty — though indeed erroneously supposed so — that an 
 innocent man could be punished. As, however, Mr Mill could not 
 fail to he entirely pleased with his own argument, I deemed it as well 
 to evade it by inserting the clause as above — with such result as we 
 see. 
 
 D 
 
50 Happiness in Quotation. 
 
 ignore it. Perhaps, now that his attention is called to 
 it, he ' may be able to see ' that the light insinuation of 
 scorn in his ' being of opinion apparently ' had, after 
 all, as regards 'the innocent person,' and that other 
 innocent person, myself, no very particular point in it. 
 Such point as it really has, seems rather to threaten Mr 
 Mill himself, than to look for me deadly. Were I in 
 the least disposed — as emphatically I say I am not — 
 to ' insinuate bad faith ' in Mr Mill, might I not liere, 
 do something more than ' insinuate ' that Mr Mill's 
 reading public has more or less reason to complain of 
 ' a little deceit practised upon it ' ? But distinctly 
 nothing of the kind would I permit myself to say or 
 insinuate. All that I venture to say is — that it is a 
 pity Mr Mill should either not have read this clause, 
 or have forgotten it in writing his criticism. 
 
 With ' the madman ' it does not seem to me that Mr 
 Mill succeeds greatly better than we have seen him do 
 with ' the innocent person.' Let us look a little at his 
 dealings with him. ' As to the madman, Mr Alexander 
 ' asks — " How should the state of mind of the maniac, 
 ' " as unamenable to motive, any way affect the efficacy 
 ' " of our hanging him for murder, as a means to deter 
 ' " others from murder ? " Mr Alexander has really no 
 ' claim to be answered, until he has got a step or two 
 ' beyond this. Perhaps, however, he may be able to 
 ' see that all the deterring effect which hanging can 
 ' produce on men who are amenable to motive, is pro- 
 ' duced by hanging men who are amenable to motive.' 
 
Mr Mill a too Advanced Thinker. 5 1 
 
 I shall never be able to see this ; Mr Mill, at this 
 point, among othfers, is somewhat too 'advanced' a 
 thinker for me ; and he must come ' a step or two ' 
 back, before agreement between us is possible. As 
 regards ' deterring effect/ it will be evident, I believe, 
 to every one who has not some argument or ' ethical 
 system,' in the interest of which to deny it, that the 
 hanging of a maniac for murder would be equally 
 efficacious with that of a sane man ; as not any whit 
 less suggestive of the grim tu quoque, for Bill Sykes 
 and his compeers, the soul of the deterrent influence. 
 As to madness in its proper nature, amenability to 
 motive, or unamenability, what know these thousands 
 of unwashed blockheads, for whose moral edification 
 such amiable spectacles are exhibited ? ^ Absolutely 
 no more than if they were all medical experts ! What 
 they do with sufficient sharpness know, however, is 
 that the man has committed murder, and that before 
 their very eyes he is being hanged for it. Strange, 
 indeed, if this does not serve as a pretty impressive 
 reminder of the further saving knowledge, otherwise 
 vaguely conveyed to them, that if they also commit 
 murder, they will also surely be hanged for it. What 
 was previously an abstract proposition seems here 
 translated into the concrete for them, in terms of 
 rather formidable emphasis. And will Mr Mill, with 
 full deliberation, assert that complete sanity in the 
 
 ' They hare now ceased to Ije exliibited ; the more, as I think, the 
 pity. 
 
5 2 Mania and Punishment. 
 
 sufferer is essential in order that this should be the 
 case ; that the least little dash of insanity in him 
 would suffice utterly to preclude- the associations 
 which would otherwise be formed in the mind be- ■ 
 tween the one fact of murder, and the other fact of 
 being hanged for it 1 Can it possiblj' be any part of 
 Mr Mill's 'Association Philosophy' to assert such a 
 thing as this? So far is Mr Mill's notion of non- 
 effectiveness in the hanging of a madman from being 
 the self-evident axiom he assumes it, that the very 
 reverse might with some plausibility be argued. In 
 as far as the fact of the madness was at all considered, 
 it could not but suggest, even to these not very bright 
 minds, more or less of mitigation in the offence ; 
 their natural sense would be sure to be, that, though 
 indeed he had murdered his wife — who possibly de- 
 served no less — the poor devil was being rather hardly 
 used for it ; and the inference, as obvious, would be 
 nearly sure to occur, that if such is the rigour of the 
 law, that, with the plea of madness in his favour, he, 
 is not allowed to escape, by so much the less, in the 
 like case, will tliey be allowed to escape, for whom no 
 such plea is to be offered. Prom this point of view 
 it might even be urged, that as regards deterring 
 effect, there is an element of impressiveness in the 
 hanging of a maniac, not present in that of the sane 
 man. Supposing a strong feeling in the spectators, 
 that on the ground of insanity or another ground, 
 the criminal ought riot to be hanged; would it be 
 
Mania and Punishment. 5 3 
 
 their sure or probable inference from the fact that, 
 right or wrong, he was hanged, that they in the like 
 case, would not he ? Either Mr MiU supposes this, 
 or he does not. If he does suppose it, he will not get 
 any one to agree with him. If he does not suppose 
 it, what has become of his argument ? 
 
 In any case, it will scarcely, I should think, be 
 pretended by Mr Mill, that our sole reason for not 
 hanging maniacs, as we do sane men, is our scepticism 
 as to whether our doing so, — as in the other case we 
 assume, — would have tendency to deter others from 
 the crime on the scaffold expiated. Yet this would 
 be needed for his argument. In the sentence by Mr 
 Mill cited, I was combating his dictum that 'the 
 ' justice of punishment has nothing to do with the 
 ' state of mind of the offender ; furtlier than as this 
 ' may affect the efficacy of punishment as a means to its 
 ' end.' In answer to this it was that I instanced the 
 case of the maniac, whose ' state of mind ' we do most 
 carefully take account of, on a ground, as I ventured, 
 and still venture, to surmise, of mere justice to the 
 wretch not morally to be held criminal ; and I said 
 that as to the other ground of ' protection to society,' 
 he would, equally well with a saner man, exemplify 
 the terrors of the law. Mr Mill, in denying this, is 
 also bound to deny that there is any othei- ground 
 of our minute and extreme scrupulosity as to the 
 sanity of capital criminals, than a doubt as to whether 
 the hanging of the insane would have any deterring 
 
54 Mania and Punishment. 
 
 efficacy. Mr Mill is perhaps capable of denying this, 
 as he finds it essential to his argument, but scarcely, 
 I should really hope, otherwise.^ 
 
 ' As to the sole other assignable ground— not in the above alluded 
 to — on which the execution of a maniac might be held to have some 
 tendency to defeat its object, as enlisting the sympathies of the public 
 against the law and in favour of its victim, not thus annulling, in- 
 deed, yet possibly in some degree disturbing, the salutary associations 
 between crime and its punishment — it was not here necessary to 
 allude to it ; inasmuch as Mr Mill is plainly here debarred from as- 
 signing it, the supposed public feeling in the matter being excited by 
 nothing intelligible, save a sense of the brute injustice of hanging a 
 man ' the state of whose mind ' fatally determined him to crime. 
 
Fanaticism and Punishment. 5 5 
 
 VI. 
 
 Note— ^sa^re 580. 
 
 ' The force of this argument^ is attested by the straits to 
 whicli my most persevering antagonist, Mr Alexander, is 
 reduced by it.' 
 
 In reply to Mr Mill's argument here, I was cer- 
 tainly not conscioths, at least, of being reduced to any 
 particular strait; in truth, no passage in his whole 
 Chapter seemed to me to admit of so easy and con- 
 clusive a confutation as this which he so much relies 
 on. Let us see whether Mr Mill, in his rejoinder, be 
 not himself reduced to some little strait of dif&culty. 
 
 ' Mr Alexander finds himself obliged to say, that " could 
 we have positive assurance " in the case of such people, " that 
 " their outrage of the obligation to respect life was solely an act 
 " of self-sacrifice to what they considered a higher and more 
 
 ^ ' I ask any one who thinks that the justice of punishment is not 
 ' suflBciently vindicated hy its being for the protection of just rights, 
 ' how he reconciles his sense of justice to the punishment of crimes . 
 ' committed in obedience to a perverted conscience ? Ravaillac and 
 ' Balthasar Gerard did not regard themselves as criminals, but as 
 ' heroic martyrs. If they were justly put to death, the justice of 
 ' punishment has nothing to do with the state of mind of the offender, 
 
56 Fanaticism and Pimishment. 
 
 " sacred one," we should be obliged to admit that tbeir doom 
 " was not just in tbe particular instance.'' This is very well, 
 but we want practice as well as theory. Would you hang 
 them % Mr Alexander makes a halting half-admission that he 
 would. " A dubious point of justice — dubious because the 
 " true motiveof the act must always remain obscure — may here 
 " be allowed to be over-ridden by a plain and potent man- 
 " date of expediency." Mr Alexander, therefore, would hang 
 men, when it is doubtful whether they deserve it, would 
 hang them for what " may really have been an act of sub- 
 lime virtue." But what is the amount of real dubiousness 
 in cases like these ? Of all acts which a man can do, those 
 by which he knowingly sacrifices his own life, sometimes 
 with the addition of horrible torments, are the clearest 
 from suspicion of aU motives but honest ones. Mr Alex- 
 ander talks of Brutus and Charlotte Corday ; but I am con- 
 tent with Eavaillac. Is there the smallest reason to doubt 
 that Eavaillac's " outrage of the obligation to respect life " 
 was an " act of self-sacrifice," to what in his opinion was 
 " a higher and more sacred one"? What motive had Ea- 
 vaiUac for his abominable action except a supposed duty to 
 God, and did he not deem this his highest and most sacred 
 duty ? As for Mr Alexander's hint that such a man, if not 
 culpable in the act, was " culpable in the perversion of his 
 conscience which led to it," it is the old odious assumption 
 of persecutors, that acts which they cannot show to have 
 
 ' farther than this may affect the efficacy of punishment as a means 
 ' to its end. It is impossible to assert the justice of punishment for 
 ' crimes of fanaticism, on any other ground than its necessity for the 
 ' attainment of a just end. If that is not a justification, there is no 
 ' justification. All our imaginary justifications break down in their 
 ' application to this case.' — Mill on Hamilton, p. 580. 
 
Mr Mill again happy in Quotation. 5 7 
 
 been wicked in intention, must have originated in previous 
 wickedness. The act of Eavaillac simply originated in false 
 teaching, coming to him from the same quarter from which 
 had come most of the good teaching which he had received 
 through life. It came from the fountain of goodness, not of 
 wickedness.' 
 
 It would in all cases be well that citations in in- 
 verted commas should be quite punctilious in accur- 
 acy, not only verbally, as given, but as giving the 
 whole meaning of the author. Having said that, in 
 the case of such heroic sinners for conscience' sake, 
 without considering the doom awarded them just ' as 
 * deserved, or due to their deed, considered in itself, and 
 ' as an isolated act,' we should yet ' on obvious grounds 
 of general expediency acquiesce in it,' I further said — 
 'justifiable, we should call it in the general, not just 
 ' in the particular instance ;' and I proceeded to assign 
 as the ground on which we should hold it justifiable, 
 that ' such whimsical heroes were inconvenient, inas- 
 ' much as no society could afford to grow a succession of 
 ' them.' Had not Mr Mill, in quoting the clause, ' not 
 'just in the particular instance,' seen fit to suppress the 
 'justifiable in the general ' which precedes it, with the 
 previous statement of ' acquiescence,' he could scarce 
 have represented as a 'halting half-admission' what 
 is really as frank and explicit as it seems possible for 
 words to make it ; or desiderated ' practice as well as 
 theory,' seeing he already had both. 'Would you 
 hang them?' Certainly — I had already indicated. 
 
58 In Mr Mill a certain Obtuseness. 
 
 on clear social grounds stated, which I shoidd have 
 thought to Mr Mill particularly pleasing and satis- 
 factory. 'Would hang them for what may reaUy 
 have been an act of sublime virtue?' Certainly — 
 again I answer ; as before I had plainly implied. I 
 would not balk the sublime virtue by defrauding it 
 of its dues expected. Mr Mill a little seems to forget 
 that solely by reason of its exercise under a positive 
 certainty — or at least extreme risk — of being hanged 
 for it, is the virtue at all a sublime one. I would 
 permit it to be as sublime as Mr Calcraft could possi- 
 bly make it. 
 
 Again — 'But what is the amount of real dubious- 
 ' ness,' &c. &c. &c. ? I should not have thought it 
 possible that Mr Mill could so miss, as he has here 
 done, the point of an opponent's argument. There is 
 not, so far as we Ttnow, the smallest ' reason to doubt 
 ' that Ravaillac's act was one, as it professed to be, of 
 'supposed duty to God.' But let us suppose a case. 
 Suppose Eavaillac to have had a pretty wife, or — 
 seeing he was a priest — let me rather say, a pretty 
 mistress (it may be hoped that, in a Protestant 
 country, this suggestion will be well received, as 
 certifying the piety of the writer), and suppose the 
 gallant Henry to have got his eye upon her. There 
 seems not 'the smallest reason to doubt,' he would 
 forthwith have proceeded to seduce her. Eavaillac 
 would then have had a deadly private wrong to 
 avenge; and, as to allege what Mr Mill would caU 
 the ' honest motive ' would needs have involved some 
 
In Mr Mill a certain Obtuseness. 59 
 
 compromise of professional character, he might very- 
 well have seen fit, on a point of esprit de corps, to 
 compass his end under the mask of a public religious 
 duty. Can Mr Mill fail to see that such cases might 
 frequently occur ; and that to accord immunity to 
 acts of violence which could allege for themselves 
 some lofty motive of conscience, would be simply to 
 insure their frequency, and sap the very basis of 
 society? Sheltered under the zeal for God, which 
 would no doubt be loud upon their lips, men might 
 without scruple proceed upon the devil's work, in the 
 venting of their basest malignity. Hackston of 
 Eathillet is a historical instance somewhat in point, 
 who, having, on his own account, a quarrel with 
 Archbishop Sharpe, when the old man was under the 
 daggers, stood apart with his cloak devoutly drawn 
 over his lips, lest the justice of the Lord being exe- 
 cuted should take taint of his personal bitterness. 
 But all men are not so scrupulous as the pious Hack- 
 ston; on which ground — were there no other — it 
 would be plainly preposterous, as merely a premium 
 on crime, to make exception in favour of criminals 
 for conscience' sake, so called. Such was my meaning 
 when I spoke of ' a dubious point of justice — dubious, 
 ' because the true motive of the act must always remain 
 'obscure;' and I should not have thought it could 
 possibly need explanation, had it not been so totally 
 missed by Mr Mill, in his ' clearest from suspicion of 
 all motives but honest ones.' So totally has he missed 
 my meaning here, that it is pretty plainly from my 
 
6o Ml'- Mill ' Content with Ravaillac! 
 
 speaking of ' a dubious point of justice,' that he has in- 
 ferred in my mind dubiety as to whether I -would hang 
 such culprits, and out of what was clear and explicit, 
 has coined for me his ' halting half-admission.' If he 
 will once more glance at the passage, Mr Mill will see 
 that the point of dubiety spoken of was one which 
 suggests not the hanging of the culprit, but the sparing 
 him ; and probably not even in the interest of an argu- 
 ment or a pet theory, is Mr Mill prepared to maintain 
 that to hang a man and to spare him are identical, or 
 even reconcilable, propositions. 
 
 Again — ' Mr Alexander talks of Brutus and Char- 
 ' lotte Corday ; but I am content with Eavaillac' I 
 also, for that matter, am content with Eavaillac ; pro- 
 bably a heroic conscientious kind of creature, whom 
 one regrets it should have been at once necessary and 
 proper to extirpate ; but on whom — as no doubt dying 
 under the usual consoling convictions of the martyr, 
 that in having his bowels plucked out and exhibited 
 to him, he was becoming ' the seed of the Church,' and 
 securing for his persecutors a very evil future indeed — 
 it is not necessary to waste compassion. But really, 
 what does this turn of Mr Mill's amount to ? I am 
 content with my own instances, and decline to consider 
 those adduced in reply by my opponent ! When I 
 asked — ' Was Charlotte Corday justly put to death, in 
 ' the sense that she deserved her doom ? ' if Mr Mill 
 condescended at all to take notice of me, he was surely 
 bound to give me an answer. Provisionally, I had 
 ventured to answer for him pretty confidently — ' Mr 
 
' Coitte7it ivith Ravaillac' 6i 
 
 ' Mill ivill not say so.' If Mr Mill could have repudi- 
 ated the moral judgment thus attributed to him, is it 
 not obvious he would have done so, seeing that if he 
 cannot repudiate it he must admit his whole argument 
 coUapsed ? Not being able to repudiate it — as I ven- 
 ture to surmise he was not — it was no doubt natural 
 enough for him to say — Charlotte Corday ! hum ! ha ! 
 hum ! I quite decline to consider her ; if you please, 
 ' I am content with Eavaillac ; ' but readers will per- 
 haps agree with me in thinking this not a very cogent 
 line of argument. Which of us seems the more ' re- 
 duced to straits ' here, I leave it to others to determine.^ 
 
 ^ Of all such cases as those here considered, Eavaillac, Balthasar 
 Geraxd, Brutus, Charlotte Corday, Orsini, id genus omne — what is to 
 be said is that under the legal enactment the punishment of the crime 
 is justified, the very existence of society being imperilled were such 
 actions to be left unpunished. As to the actual criminality of the 
 acts from the point of view of the operator, and the justice of the 
 punishment, as deserved, there is positively nothing to be said with 
 even a pretence to scientific accuracy. According to the theory we 
 may form of his motives, Brutus was either the sublimest of patriots, 
 or the most degraded of scoundrels (one's own easy notion is, that he 
 was almost certainly a little of ioth). So of Charlotte Corday ! a 
 touching and heroic creature doubtless — with the sincerest detestation 
 of Marat, and perhaps a little French rage for notoriety. How much 
 of this last there may have been, would Mr Carlyle undertake to in- 
 form us ? In brief, each of such cases must be separately adjudicated 
 on by the morahst ; and there is room for endless diversity of opinion 
 as to whether the punishment might be just, in the sense of its being 
 deserved. But that in every such case it is justifiable from the point 
 of view of the legalist, and on larger social considerations, no one 
 will be found to deny. Mr Mill's whole argument here proceeds on 
 an identification of the legally and socially jasiJ^ffiiZe with the morally 
 just or deserved : than which no two notions can be more distinctly 
 discriminated. And throughout this whole section of his argument 
 the same thing is to be noted. Should he wish, in the next edition 
 
62 ' Reduced to Straits' 
 
 Turther, it was — as before noted — in answer to Mr 
 Mill's dictum in tliis passage, that ' the justice of punish- 
 ' ment has nothing to do with the state of mind of the 
 ' ofifeuder,' &c.,that I instanced the case of the maniac, 
 whose ' state of mind ' we do most carefully take ac- 
 count of. Mr Mill, in reply, is forced, as we have 
 seen, to maintain that, by the punishment under the 
 law, of a manaic for murder, sane men would not in 
 the least impressively be reminded that all men, sane 
 or insane, will be punished if they commit murder ; 
 that murder will inevitably by law he punished. It 
 seems to me, in the light of what I have already said 
 as to this, that the person maintaining so hopeless a 
 proposition in order to defend his argument, is ' re- 
 duced ' to rather desperate ' straits ' in defending it. 
 
 One word as to another little point, though perhaps 
 as merely personal, and no way of affecting the argu- 
 ment, it not very much deserves attention. 'As for 
 ' Mr Alexander's hint that such a man, if not culpable 
 ' in the act, was " culpable in the perversion of his con- 
 ' science that led to it," it is the old odious assump- 
 
 of his Logic, to further illustrate the ' Fallacy of Confusion, ' which 
 arises in the abuse of paronymous words, he could not do better than 
 refer to this chapter of his own. It is a positive min^ of such in- 
 stances. 
 
 [As it seems not quite fail- to throw out such a charge as that con- 
 tained in the last sentence without some attempt at least to substan- 
 tiate it, I quote from my previous essay a passage of some length, 
 which seems pretty well to bear me out. It may also a very little 
 serve to buttress and complete a discussion which, arising on isolated 
 points, almost of necessity became more fragmentary than might be 
 wished. — Ficie Appendix, Note II.] 
 
Explanation. 63 
 
 ' tion of persecutors, that acts which they cannot show 
 ' to have been wicked in intention, must have origi- 
 ' nated in previous wickedness.' 
 
 Mr Mill uses somewhat strong language here, and 
 though it does not the least irk me, who am much of 
 Benedick's mind as to such ' paper bullets of the brain,' 
 yet as the imputation conveyed is precisely of the sort 
 under which I should be least willing to lie, a word or 
 two of explanation may not be amiss. When we speak 
 of ' a perverted conscience,' we may mean, with Mr 
 Mill here, a mis-educated conscience, the lapse of which 
 ' originates in false teaching ; ' or we may mean a con- 
 science se^f-perverted in the persistence of the evil 
 will. This last it is, I think, which the phrase of itself 
 most readily suggests. Of this I was thinking when I 
 penned the clause to Mr Mill so odious ; and Mr Mill 
 will probably admit that, taken in this connection, it 
 loses some little of its offensiveness. That thus inter- 
 preted, what I wrote — except in as far as we suppose that 
 intervolution of the two modes of perversion, which is 
 not an unfrequent phenomenon — has any clear per- 
 tinence to the cases which Mr Mill instantly pro- 
 ceeded to adduce, I do not of course assert. Mr Mill, 
 without discrimination, having spoken of ' a perverted 
 conscience,' I caught at the notion of perversion as it 
 occurred to me, and did not stay to inquire curiously 
 whether Mr Mill's instances of Eavaillac, and the like, 
 fell precisely under that notion ; neither, for anything 
 it mattered in the argument, was it the least necessary 
 I should. From defect of precise definition on either 
 
64 Explanation. 
 
 side, Mr Mill and I have here been firing across one 
 another. It is my hope that, on withdrawing my ob- 
 noxious clause as simply irrelevant to the discussion, I 
 may cease, in the eyes of Mr Mill, to be the odious 
 persecuting ruffian I should not wish him to continue 
 to suppose me. 
 
Causation by Motive. 65 
 
 VII. 
 
 Note — ^age 582. 
 
 \Orlginal Note. — 'Several of Sir W. Hamilton's admis- 
 sions are strong arguments against the alleged self-evident 
 connection between free-will and accountability. We have 
 found him affirming that a volition not determined by mo- 
 tives " would, if conceived, be conceived as morally worth- 
 less ;'' that " the free acts of an indifferent, are morally and 
 "rationally as worthless as the preordained passions of a 
 "determined wUl;'' and that "it is impossible to see how 
 " a cause, undetermined by any motive, can be a rational, 
 " moral, and accountable cause.'' If aU this be so, there 
 can be no intuitive perception of a necessary connection 
 between free-will and morality ; it would appear, on the 
 contrary, that we are naturally unable to recognise an act as 
 moral, if it is, in the sense of the theory, free.'] 
 
 [Third Edition. — ' Mr Alexander (p. 80) actually thinks 
 that in these passages Sir W. Hamilton is " asserting the 
 determination of the wiU by motives;" and cannot believe 
 that he intended " to assert an absolute commencement as 
 " the mode under which freedom, though inconceivable, 
 "has yet to be believed;" since this "would have been to 
 " rush with his eyes open on the staring contradictory of a 
 E 
 
66 Causation by Motive. 
 
 " thing at once caused and uncaused." Yet presently after 
 he himself charges Sir W. Hamilton's doctrine with requir- 
 ing belief in two contrary inconceivables. In the present 
 case, it only requires a belief in one of them, an absolute or 
 uncaused commencement. Mr Alexander does not lay 
 claim to much knowledge of Sir W. Hamilton ; and cer- 
 tainly no one who understood what that philosopher, and 
 most others who discuss this question, mean by " to deter- 
 mine " could fail to see that with him the determination of 
 the will by motives means Determinism, or, as it is com- 
 monly called. Necessity.'] 
 
 My knowledge of Hamilton's philosophy is, I con- 
 fess, of the slightest ; but before venturing to write 
 on this subject, I took care to read, with what seemed 
 to me sufficient attention, that very small portion of 
 his writings in which it is expressly treated of ; and I 
 do ' actually think,' — strange as it may seem to Mr 
 Mill, — that he does not, in asserting Freedom, intend to 
 deny motives, or hold, as Mr Mill throughout makes 
 him do, that ' volitions are emancipated from causa- 
 tion altogether ' (Note, p. 554). From confusion and 
 embarrassment, it is impossible, I fear, to relieve Ham- 
 ilton's desultory Notes on this subject ; but there is 
 no difficulty whatever in fixing the doctrine at which 
 he aims — which is one of ' conciliation,' involving be- 
 lief in Freedom on the one hand, in Determinism, or 
 Necessity! ^^ ^j-^g Q^her. (What else, than ' Determin- 
 
 '■ Can it be needful formally to explain, that by the word Necessity, 
 as here used, no more is meant than Causation ? Nobody is stupid 
 enough to suggest belief at once in Freedom, and in Necessity defined 
 
Hamilton's Doctrine. 67 
 
 ism' Mr Mill can imagine I suppose Hamilton to 
 mean by ' the determination of tlie will by motives/ T 
 need not stay to inquire ; Mr Mill certainly pays me 
 no compliment in thinking that I 'fail to see' that 
 determination means determination.) 
 
 At page 555 of Mr Mill's book, we find him writing 
 — ' The inconceivability of the Free-will doctrine is 
 'maintaiaed by our author (Hamilton), not only on 
 'the general ground just stated (of its involving an 
 ' absolute commencement), but on the further and 
 ' special ground that the will is determined hy motives.' 
 After this, it seems almost a little inconsistent in Mr 
 Mill to represent Hamilton as denying motives. Not 
 to iasist on this — elsewhere, we find Hamilton writing 
 — ' Voluntary conation is a faculty which can only be 
 ' determined to energy through a pain or a pleasure — 
 ' through an estimate of the relative worth of objects.' ^ 
 Through a pain or a pleasure; that is, by 'a desire 
 or aversion,' Mr Mill's own definition of 'a motive.' 
 Could Hamilton, had he desired, even with emphasis, 
 to do it, have proclaimed more clearly than as here 
 he does, ' the determination of the will by motives ' ? 
 Mr Mill himself ' actually ' quotes this — ' So difficult 
 ' is it to escape from this fact ' (the suggestion of Neces- 
 
 as excluding it. These are contradictories. Freedom and Causation 
 are admitted contraries, or irreconcilable opposites ; they have never yet, 
 ttat I know of, been shown to be contradictory. — ( Vide p. 137 et seq.) 
 ■"Elsewhere: "Thus conation is not the feeling of pleasure and 
 pain, but the power of overt activity zoMch pain mid pleasure set in 
 motion " (as motives). It would be easy, but absurd, to multiply 
 instances. 
 
68 Hamilton's Doctrme. 
 
 sity from 'our collective experience of life') 'that Sir 
 ' W. Hamilton himself says ' — as above. Let any one 
 turn to the passage (Lectures, i. 188), and he will see 
 that Hamilton is not wishing to escape from anything, 
 but stating, with entire simplicity, a fact which it will 
 presently appear he could not possibly intend to deny. 
 Elsewhere, again, we find him writing — ' Were we even 
 ' to admit as true what we cannot think as possible, still 
 ' the doctrine of a motiveless volition would be only cas- 
 ' ualism ; and the free acts of an indifferent, are morally 
 ' and rationally as worthless as the preordained pas- 
 ' sions of a determined wiU.' Does Mr MiU really 
 suppose that Hamilton, in asserting Freedom, as an 
 implication of man's moral nature, meant to announce 
 the very doctrine, by himself thus expressly denounced, 
 as ' only casualism,' and as such, contradictory of that 
 moral nature, not less than the preordination of 
 Necessity itself ? ' Motiveless volitions ' are here by 
 Hamilton provisionally assumed, only to be set aside as 
 nugatory. Is it reasonable, then, to suppose them in- 
 cluded in his positive ,doctrine ? That in point of fact 
 they were iiot so, by intention at least, admits of the 
 clearest proof. 
 
 Hamilton, in the 'Appendix' to his Discussions, 
 furnishes us, on the subject of Causality (and Freedom), 
 with some ' hints of an undeveloped Philosophy, which 
 he is confident is founded on truth.' And this confi- 
 dence he in great part attributes to his ' finding in this 
 ' system a centre and conciliation for the most opposite 
 < of philosophical opinions.' "What does Mr Mill sup- 
 
One of Conciliation. 69 
 
 pose the ' opposite philosophical opinions ' which Ham- 
 ilton's doctrine, as it lives in his own mind, ' conciliates' ? 
 If the opposite opinions conciliated be not, on the one 
 hand, Freedom as excluding Causation, on the other. 
 Causation as involving a denial of Freedom, what, in 
 MlU's notion, are the opinions which Hamilton intends 
 to conciliate ? Mr Mill's philosophical ingenuity is 
 admitted great ; but, unless it is greater than I take it 
 to be, it will scarce avail him for an answer to this 
 q^uestion. Further, we find Hamilton remarking — 
 ' This scheme proves, moreover, that no difficulty 
 ' emerges in Theology which had not previously 
 ' emerged in Philosophy ; ' and instantly afterwards — 
 ' Specially, in its doctrine of Causality, this philosophy 
 ' brings us back from the aberrations of modern theo- 
 ' logy to the truth and simplicity of the ancient Church. 
 ' It is here shown to be as irrational as irreligious, on 
 ' the ground of human understanding, to deny either, 
 ' on the one hand, the foreknowledge, predestination, 
 ' and free grace of God, as, on the other, the free-wUl of 
 ' man ; that we should believe both, and both in unison, 
 ' though unable to comprehend either, even apart.' 
 And ' this conciliation/ he immediately after says, ' is 
 ' of the things to be believed, not understood ; ' while 
 further on we find him speak of ' the total inability of 
 ' man to conceive the union of what he should believe 
 ' united.' In the light of all this, the essential doctrine 
 of Hamilton is not for one instant to be mistaken. 
 ' No difficulty,' he says, " emerges in Theology, which 
 ' had not previously emerged in Philosophy.' The 
 
yo One of Conciliation. 
 
 difficulty involved in God's predestination and fore- 
 knowledge, as related to human Freedom, he regards as 
 identical with that involved in Causation, in the same 
 inscrutable relation. The two difficulties are, in his 
 view of them, properly forms of the same difficulty. 
 Now, the theological difficulty he adjusts by announc- 
 ing of the two seeming irreconcilables, that we should 
 believe loth, and both in unison.' And the philosophi- 
 cal difficulty which he regards as the same, he cannot 
 have meant to resolve differently ! Consequently — and 
 this becomes additionally clear in the light of the sub- 
 sequent quotation from his favourite Jacobi — ' The 
 ' union of physical Necessity and moral Freedom, in one 
 ' and the same being, is an absolutely incomprehensible 
 ' fact ; a miracle and mystery like to the creation ' — it 
 is not for an instant to be doubted, that the result in 
 which Hamilton's mind rested was this — that Causes, 
 or motives, on the one hand, human Freedom on the 
 other, are alike to be admitted ; that we ' must believe 
 loth, and both in unison;' and that ' this conciliation is 
 of the things to be believed, not understood.' More- 
 over, when we find him writing in the 'fragments of a 
 fuller discussion ' appended in his final E"ote — ' In fact, 
 ' there is a curious conformity, if I may say so, between 
 ' Newton's procedure and our own. Gravity is the 
 ' great constitutive principle in the world of matter ; 
 ' whilst Causation is the highest constitutive and Caus- 
 ' ality the highest regulative principle in the ivorlds both 
 ' of matter and mind ' — Causation throughout ' the 
 world of mind ' being thus as decisively recognised as 
 
Misapprehended by Mr Mill. 71 
 
 Gravity by Newton in the 'world of matter' — it be- 
 comes utterly impossible to maintain — as Mr Mill is 
 unhappy enough to attempt doing throughout — that, in 
 the interest of Freedom, Hamilton intends to dmiy 
 Causation. That this result in which his mind plainly 
 reposed — of two things to be believed in as reconcilable, 
 though to reconcile them our reason is impotent — he 
 could have reached by any manipulation of the argu- 
 ment, as he constructs it in the light of his ' Philosophy 
 of the Conditioned,' with its two ' contradictory Incon- 
 ' ceivables, one, of which must be true, whilst lofh can- 
 ' not,' may probably admit of doubt. Of the famous 
 Hamiltonian ' Logic,' my knowledge is precisely nil; and 
 likely, I fear, to remain so. That, by doing something 
 or other with the Predicate, Sir William could have 
 walked round the flank of this difficulty, I am perfectly 
 willing to believe ; but meantime I do not quite see it ; 
 it seems meantime a little like Freedom, and easier to 
 be believed than understood. H&re,, perhaps, there roas 
 a little point to be made against Hamilton; but Mr 
 Mill has not made it ; and failing to make this point, 
 it does not appear that he has made any other to speak 
 of. (How could he, indeed, have made any, his reason- 
 ings, nearly throughout, being based on so vital a mis- 
 conception ?) Not improbably Mr Mill saw the point 
 plainly enough ; but likewise saw that he could not 
 avail himself of it, and avail himself also of the oilier 
 point, derived from 'motiveless volition,' and 'action 
 for no reason in particular.' One, of them he might 
 have, but not hotli ; and he chose the one which in- 
 
72 Some little Excuse for Mr Mill 
 
 volved a direct misrepreseutation of what is unmistak- 
 ably shown to have been Hamilton's real doctrine. Mr 
 Mill's ' knowledge of Sir W. Hamilton,' as a mere mat- 
 ter of course, is almost infinitely greater than mine ; 
 but at this particular point it does not seem to show 
 to advantage. 
 
 It is to be admitted, however, that in attributing to 
 Hamilton's doctrine of Freedom 'the emancipation of 
 the will from Causes,' Mr Mill is not wholly without 
 excuse. When I wrote, ' Doubtless it is held by 
 ' Hamilton, that Freedom, though inconceivable, as in- 
 ' volving the impossible notion of an " absolute com- 
 ' mencement," is yet as such to be believed ; but it is 
 ' only as an Inconceivable he claims our belief in it, 
 ' not as an impossible " absolute commencement," as Mr 
 ' Mill seems to suppose,' I considered I was justified in 
 so doing, in the light of the context, as now adduced, 
 which proves, as I think, beyond dispute, that he can- 
 not possibly have intended to enunciate the doctrine by 
 Mr Mill attributed to him. Eigorously interpret his 
 deliverance, in the light of his ' Doctrine of the Con- 
 ditioned,' and frankly, I admit, it lies exceedingly open 
 to the interpretation by Mr Mill put upon it. I don't 
 say that in representing Hamilton, as in the interest of 
 Freedom, denying Causes, Mr Mill has no case ; but I 
 do say, that for Hamilton here, as against him, there is 
 a case very much stronger ; and I further say that Mr 
 Mill ought to have known this, had his ' knowledge of 
 Sir W. Hamilton ' been so greatly superior to mine as 
 I should myself have been disposed to expect it. 
 
Hamiltons Conciliation. 73 
 
 To conclude — let me cite a passage wliich, in the 
 light of Hamilton's express announcement of his doc- 
 trine as a ' conciliation of opposite philosophical 
 opinions/ seems to me pretty conclusive. Having re- 
 marked that his doctrine alone (as ' conciliatory ' and 
 recognising a truth on either side — this must needs be 
 his meaning) affords ' a solution of the problem offered 
 ' in the condition of exact equilibrium, in ■which the 
 ' controversy has continued,' Hamilton proceeds — 
 ' Previous philosophers have held,' &c. ' Those philo- 
 ' sophers who embraced the alternative of Necessity 
 ' virtually extenuated, as delusive, those ultimate data 
 ' of intelligence, which attribute to man, as author or 
 ' master of his actions, a moral agency, responsibility, 
 ' liberty — an undetermined freedom to initiate action. 
 ' Those philosophers, again, who embraced the alterna- 
 ' tive of Liberty, virtually extenuated as delusive, in so 
 ' far as our volitions are concerned, that necessity of 
 ' intelligence which constrains us to seek the com- 
 ' mencement of every event, external or internal, in 
 ' some antecedent, itself determined by a higher ante- 
 ' cedent. The one class did not attempt to render com- 
 ' prehensible an infinite series of relative or determined 
 ' commencements ; the other class did not attempt to 
 ' render comprehensible an absolute or undetermined 
 ' initiative. Both implicitly charged reason,' &c. 
 
 Is it to be denied that Hamilton here means to dis- 
 criminate himself from loth these ' classes of previous 
 ' philosophers,' ' extenuating as delusive,' neither, on 
 the one hand, the ultimate data which guarantee 
 
74 Seeming Inconsistency of Hamilton. 
 
 Freedom, nor, on the other, ' so far as our volitions are 
 ' concerned,' that ' necessity of intelligence which con- 
 ' strains us ' to admit Causation ; and to fix these ' oppo- 
 ' site opinions ' of Freedom and Necessity, by ' previous 
 ' philosophers ' held exclusive each of the other, as 
 those in his own doctrine harmonised, or ' conciliated ' 
 in lodi&f, though not in intelligence ? It is not, I should 
 say, even by Mr MUl to be denied. What then of Mr 
 Mill's ' knowledge of Sir W. Hamilton,' in making him 
 deny Causation ? AH that seems here to be said of it 
 is, that one hopes it is greater elsewhere. 
 
 It is not uninstructive to note, that out of this very 
 passage, which seems to seal Mr Mill's condemnation, 
 he could perfectly well pick some sort of quasi justifi- 
 cation of himself Hamilton does here certainly seem 
 to define Liberty as ' an undetermined freedom to initiate 
 ' action,' " an absolute or undetermined initiative,' but 
 all he can intelligently be held to mean is, that it 
 admits not of being construed to thought except as this 
 form of Inconceivable. That under this form it is that 
 he means to demand belief in it, cannot for an instant 
 be maintained; for, almost in the same breath, he 
 implies as ' undelusive ' ' the Necessity of intelligence, 
 ' which constrains us ' to admit volitions determined. 
 Volitions are at once determined and widetermined, 
 caused and wicaused ! ! Are these staring contradic- 
 tories ' the opposite philosophical opinions ' of which 
 Hamilton intends to announce, that ' we must believe 
 ' both, and both in unison ' ? It may be so ; but if so. 
 
opinions by Hamilton conciliated. 75 
 
 he was one of the merest blockheads who ever put pen 
 to paper ; and it was surely unnecessary for Mr Mill 
 to write a whole big book about him as the philosopher 
 of all his school, ' the ablest, the most clear-sighted, 
 and the most candid.' These are complimentary ex- 
 pressions, one. at least of which, at this point, I must 
 hesitate to apply to Mr Mill. Candid he is, I do 
 believe, even when it might not quite appear ; nobody 
 ever questioned his superb intellectual abihty ; as to 
 his ' clear-sightedness,' I should just here have thought 
 rather more of it had he recognised as mere rash inad- 
 vertencies of expression and exposition — in what is 
 professedly no more than a series of mere fragments 
 tumbled out of a note-book — the things he has seen fit 
 to represent, as conveying to us Hamilton's matured 
 and dehberate doctrine. 
 
 Mr Mill says, that while declining to believe that 
 Hamilton could mean to ' rush with his eyes open on 
 ' the staring contradictory of a thing at once caused and 
 ' uncaused,' I myself proceed to ' charge his doctrine 
 with requiring belief in contrary inconceivables.' ^ In 
 doing so, I charge it with nothing which he himself 
 does not proclaim, in saying that it specially approves 
 itself to him as ' conciliating the most oip'posite, philoso- 
 phical opinions.' These can positively be nothing but 
 
 ' From tliis criticism it should seem tliat in Mr Mill's philosophical 
 vocabulary, the words " contradictory " and "contrary '' are identical 
 or interchangeable terms. Some little distinction between them has, 
 however, been surmised by other people. 
 
76 Suspicions of Confusion in Hamilton. 
 
 Freedom as inconceivable, and Causation, which, in its 
 infinite regress, it is his whim to likewise present as 
 such ; in other schemes held reciprocally destructive, 
 in his ' conciliated, though this conciliation is of the 
 ' things to he believed, not understood.' If not these, 
 what are the ' opposite philosophical opinions ' which, 
 in his Doctrine of Causation and Freedom — sketched 
 entirely in the rough — Hamilton proposes to con- 
 ciliate ? No answer on the general question can in the 
 least be accepted from Mr Mill as valid which does not 
 include an answer to this question ; and this question 
 Mr Mill will never be able to answer. 
 
 If these contraries, or opposites — in the sense that 
 logically we are unable to reconcile them — 'both of 
 ' which and both in unison ' are, as result of Hamilton's 
 reasoning, to be ' believed,' might seem in some part of 
 the process of it, to figure as the Contradictories of the 
 Philosophy of the Conditioned, ' one of which must be 
 true, while both cannot,' this, as I said, is a confusion on 
 Hamilton's part, on which Mr Mill was entitled, if he 
 chose, to animadvert, as on Hamilton's other confu- 
 sions. What clearly he was not entitled to do was to 
 falsify, for the sake of his points about ' motiveless 
 volition ' and ' action for no reason in particular,' the 
 doctriue in which Hamilton's mind plainly rested, and 
 which, beyond all question, he would have held himself 
 bound to maintain. 
 
 Of the confusion — if it really be so, as to which I am 
 by no means confident — in which Hamilton is here 
 
Suspicions of Confusion in Hamilton, 'j'j 
 
 involved, enough is perhaps said — the quite incondite 
 and fragmentary character of his jottings on this subject 
 being looked to — if we say as in the passage Mr Mill 
 is here criticising, that ' his reconstruction of the argu- 
 ' ment in the light of his Philosophy of the Conditioned, 
 ' has really done it no great service.' A man who has 
 business in London gets into the wrong coach, and finds 
 himself deposited at Exeter ; what then ? he next 
 morning puts himself in the right one ; he is in due 
 time deposited in London, and claims that his conduct 
 shall be interpreted throughout in the light of his 
 manifest intention. So with Hamilton here — as to 
 where he really means to go, there cannot be a shadow 
 of doubt ; as to whether he got into the right coach to 
 take him there, in working from the ' Philosophy of 
 the Conditioned,' there may reasonably be difference 
 of opinion. 
 
 [My argument, as above, I am happy to be able to 
 buttress — as against Mr Mill — by the authority of 
 Professor Bain. In his ISTotes on the MiU v. Hamilton 
 controversy (vide ' Mental and Moral Science,' p. 426) 
 he says — " Both Hamilton and Mill are agreed upon 
 the question at issue — namely, whether our volitions 
 are emancipated from causation altogether." Professor 
 Bain, therefore, does not so understand Hamilton, as, 
 in the interest of the Freedom of the Will, to make 
 him deny Causation. Mr MiU, however, throughout 
 in his argument, does so. Mr Mill, though here in 
 
78 Professor Bain v. Mr Mill. 
 
 essential agreement with Hamilton (as I agree with 
 Professor Bain in thinking him), was, unhappily, quite 
 unaware of it. Professor Bain, on the other hand, in 
 noting the fundamental agreement between the two, 
 seems to have lost sight of the superficial divergence 
 which occurred in Mr Mill's misconception of his op- 
 ponent's position.] 
 
Vital Truth in Moral Psychology. 79 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Note— pa^'e 586. 
 
 ' This vital truth in moral Psychology, that we can im- 
 prove our character, •;/ we loill, is a great stumbling-block 
 both to the "Inquirer'' and Mr Alexander. They maiu- 
 tain that the fact makes no difference at all, and that the 
 Causation of human actions is exactly the same thing with 
 Modified Fatalism. Both he and Mr Alexander protest 
 vehemently, Mr Alexander at great length, that the Causation 
 doctrine is as incompatible with Free-will as Fatalism is. As 
 if any one had denied that. In the very next paragraph, 
 when arguing against Kant, I expressly aflS.rmed it.' 
 
 Mr Mill, in one of his 'Notes,' says of Professor 
 Hansel and the ' Inquirer,' ' that they could not have 
 ' worse understood his argument if they had never 
 ' read it.' Of Mr Mill I take the liberty to say the 
 same thing here. Had I sought 'vehemently and at 
 great length,' as Mr Mill alleges, to show that his 
 ' Causation doctrine ' is incompatible with the Freedom 
 expressly denied in it, I must have been a blunderer 
 indeed. The idea of my seeking, as Mr Mill's oppon- 
 ent, to prove to him ' vehemently and at great length ' 
 
8o Misunderstanding on Mr Mill's part. 
 
 the very thing, which throughout and with some vehe- 
 mence, he asserts, seems really a little too ludicrous. 
 To attribute the merest idiocy to one's adversary is 
 an easy method of confuting him, and not — with Mr 
 Mill — an unusual one. 'It is the main object of this 
 ' paper to inquire in how far Mr Mill can le held to 
 ' prosper in his attempt to harmonise oior practical waral 
 ' instincts ivith his speculative tenet of Necessity.' Thus 
 it was, that my purpose was at starting defined ; and 
 on the whole, it was carried out pretty steadily, though 
 not, as I speedily came to see, without a certain 
 amount of blunder and misapprehension, which I am 
 obliged to Mr Mill for overlooking. To identify Mr 
 Mill's doctrine of Causation with Fatalism, not in 
 the denial of Freedom — by both expressly denied — but 
 in its bearing on the Moral Eesponsibility of man — 
 in regard of which Mr Mill's distinction between the 
 two doctrines seemed to me, and still seems, a dis- 
 tinction utterly illusory — was almost the sole object 
 of my little Essay. What I did maintain ' vehemently 
 and at some length,' was not — as Mr Mill here makes 
 me do — that his ' Causation doctrine ' is ' incompatible 
 with Free-will,' but that, as distinguished from Fatal- 
 ism, in this particular regard, it is really in point of 
 fact ide7itical with it — a doctrine of Freedom^ — in dis- 
 
 1 Vide Mill and Oarlyle. — 'Observations these highly edifying 
 ' doubtless, but as used by a Necessitarian, or unconditional Causation- 
 ' ist, conclusive of his mere bewilderment. Mr Mill, it seems, is not 
 ' the Necessitarian he supposes himself, but a wild advocate of Free- 
 ' dom ' (p. 102, 103). ' Again, as we before said, he is not the Neces- 
 ' sitarian he supposes himself, but o frantic advocate of Freedom ' 
 
Mr Mill's Doctrine of Catisalion. 8 1 
 
 guise. That Mr Mill's 'doctrine of Causation,' as 
 distinct from a doctrine of Fate, is a miserable mon- 
 grel ; neither philosophic fish nor flesh, and not in any 
 thorough-going logical way a ' Doctrine of Causation ' 
 at all, rigorously prosecuted to its results ! This is 
 what I maintained, and shall meantime, for anything 
 I see in his well-meant endeavours to make a convert 
 of me, continue to maintain with quite undiminished 
 confidence. Mr Mill's doctrine of Causation is some- 
 what like his Utilitarianism; and finding itself in a 
 strait, never scruples to worm its way out, by a dexter- 
 ous surreptitious implication of the opposite doctrine 
 denied. Probably no thinker of Mr Mill's deserved 
 eminence, of the same strictness and severity of in- 
 tellect (in genuine, unaffected admiration of Mr Mill's 
 consummate ability, in so far as I feel myself com- 
 petent to estimate it — which is really bat a little way 
 — I will not yield to even his most ardent admirers), 
 ever showed himself habitually such an adept, in what 
 I take leave to call the art of intellectual smuggling. I 
 have denounced as plainly contrahand Mr Mill's ' Yes, 
 
 (p. 104). 'The candour of these admissions is admirable, but of 
 ' course they come easy to Mr Mill, who is really, as we have seen — 
 ' though without as yet being aware of it — himself a very ardent 
 ' advocate of the Doctrine (of Freedom, to wit) he thus celebrates ' 
 (p. 117, 118). And in such passages is indicated the main scope of 
 the little treatise. What, then, am I to think of Mr Mill, in his 
 making me 'maintain and protest vehemently,' that his doctrine is 
 ' incompatible with Free-will, ' wherewith it is nearly throughout my 
 express aim to identify it ? Simply, that Mr Mill, in doing me the 
 honour to criticise me, has omitted, somehow or other, to do me 
 the preliminary honour of reading me — an operation commonly held 
 essential in order to intelligent criticism. 
 
8 2 Inconsistencies of Mr Mill. 
 
 ' if he really " cotdd not help " it — that is, if it did not 
 ' depend upon his will : ' ^ and I should reaUy like to 
 know how a man like Mr Mill could ever hope to 
 pass through the Custom-house an article so distinctly 
 prohibited as this ! That Mr Mill, by will here ex- 
 plicitly to himself means Pree-will, no one will of 
 course assert. What might seem to be the state of the 
 case is, that here, as elsewhere, he uses the word will 
 quite vaguely and at random, not very distinctly mean- 
 ing anything, but giving his argument the advantage 
 
 I Is it really necessary, in any formal way, to elaborate a point so 
 obvious, as that a consistent doctrine of Causation — of unconditional 
 Causation — leaves to us no more power to help our actions, good, bad, 
 or indifferent, than if we were simply so much brute matter, involved 
 in the chain of physical sequences ? A man is determined to act so ; 
 to suppose him to help his action, is to suppose a difference in the ' 
 effect ; and therein a difference in the cause or antecedent, involving 
 a difference in the whole previous chain of antecedents. Mr Mill's 
 distinct implication that — certain specified cases excepted, of physical 
 constraint, &c. — we can help our actions, is thus in the plainest con- 
 tradiction with his own doctrine, and a quiet assumption of Freedom, 
 in an argument professedly Necessitarian. Here, from his Logic, is a 
 passage precisely parallel — 'Human actions are never (except in some 
 ' cases of mania) ruled by any one motive with such absolute sway that 
 ' there is no room for the influence of any other. The causes, there- 
 ' fore, on which action depends are never uncontrollahle ; and any 
 ' given effect is only necessary, provided that the causes tending to 
 ' produce it are not controlled. ' Suppose that the causes tending to 
 produce it are not in point of fact controlled ; the effect is then pro- 
 duced, and according to Mr Mill himself, necessarily so (the reader 
 will please to observe that the case, as thus put, includes every 
 human thought, word, or deed, that can ever have taken place, in the 
 world). How, then, were the causes controllable ? On what possible 
 terms — from the point of view of the Causationist — not involving the 
 intrusion of other causes, a whole world of changed antecedents, and 
 consequents, and solution of the causal continuity ? 
 
Mr Mill's Modified Fatalism. 8 3 
 
 of the associations witli Freedom, which in most minds 
 — including his own — obstinately continue to cling to 
 it. If in stating his ' vital truth in moral Psychology, 
 ' that we can improve our character, if we will,' he 
 does not allow himself the same laxity and licence, 
 nothing can be easier than to show that his formula is 
 utterly worthless, as discriminating his doctrine from 
 a Fatalistic one. 
 
 And first,! to glance in some casual way at what Mr 
 Mill calls ' Modified Fatalism.' The modified Fatalist 
 ' holds, that our actions are determined by our will, 
 ' our will by our desires, and our desires by the joint 
 ' influence of the motives ^ presented to us, and of our 
 ' individual character ; but that our character having 
 ' been made for us, and not by us, we are not respon- 
 ' sible for it, nor for the actions it leads to, and should 
 ' in vain attempt to alter them.' Obviously, in this tail 
 of the definition, so to speak, hes its main import. 
 Elsewhere I have said of it that, as ' contingency 
 clings to our conception of the future,' whether we 
 
 ^ Throughout more diffuse than I could have wished, I must here 
 "beg pardon of the reader for a diffuseness even greater than usual. 
 The point at issue here — my former rapid remarks on which are flawed 
 with serious error — is positively central to the whole discussion. As 
 such, wishing to treat of it, as far as might be, exhaustively, 1 have 
 chosen rather to be prolix than perfunctory. 
 
 2 The word motoes here Mr Mill uses inaccurately, as noted (p. 11). 
 He means, of course, not ' ' desires or aversions " — his own definition of 
 motives (for he could hardly intend to say that "our desires are 
 determined by the joint influence of the desires," &c. ) — but the objects 
 of desire and aversion presented to us — the ' ' external motives, " as 
 he elsewhere inaccurately calls them. 
 
84 Modified Fatalism. 
 
 believe in Free-will or in Fate — the thing which will, 
 or is to he, being in either case, meantime, for us in- 
 determinate — ' should in vain have attempted to alter 
 them,' might perhaps be the preferable way of putting 
 it. Mr Mill will scarce allege, that in making so 
 trivial an alteration as this, I ' break down a funda- 
 mental distinction,' or do more than merely simpli^ 
 the statement by eliminating the element of con- 
 tingency. This slight and surely inessential altera- 
 tion supposed by Mr Mill acquiesced in, is not he, 
 from the point of view of the Causationist, shut up 
 to acquiescence in it otherwise, or as helief? Most 
 obviously he is ; for the man to have successfully 
 ' attempted to alter,' would have been to have hdped 
 his action ; to have interpolated a new, arbitrary, or 
 uncaused effect, therein disrupting and confounding 
 the whole chain of causal sequences. It does not seem 
 quite easy for Mr Mill to escape from ' Modified 
 Fatalism,' as in his own terms defined — unless, indeed, 
 to say 'should in vain have attempted,' instead of 
 ' should in vain attempt ' be to ' break down a funda- 
 mental distinction.' Mr Mill is, not improbably, quite 
 capable, at a pinch, of asserting this ; and it is not 
 to be doubted, that should he do so, he would find a 
 great many acute people to agree with him. Where- 
 fore, in case such a thing should occur, let us get 
 back for an instant to Mr Mill's ' should in vain 
 attempt to alter them.' It is certain — what is to he, 
 icill he — and this alike for the believer in Free-will 
 and the Fatalist. As Causationist, but not Fatalist, 
 
Mr Mill as Prophet. 85 
 
 Mr Mill expressly holds that, were all the causes 
 known to us, and were our intelligence competent to 
 deal with the complex process of them, we could con- 
 fidently predict the will he of a man's action — say a 
 month hence — in any particular emergency ; as con- 
 fidently as we predict that a stone, if detached from 
 its support, will fall to the earth. How reconcile Mr 
 Mill's asserted power of 'predicting the man's action, 
 with a power in the man to alter that action ? Seems 
 it not plain that, either Mr Mill cannot, in such a 
 case, predict, or that there can be no power in the 
 man to alter the thing which Mr Mill predicts ? To 
 successfully ' attempt to alter ' would be to falsify Mr 
 Mill's prediction. If Mr Mill, as Causationist and 
 Prophet in the mood potential, be not a ' Modified 
 Patalist,' as defined in his own terms, there seems 
 little doubt that, as accurate reasoner, he ought so to 
 be. Professor Mansel, after all, then, was not quite 
 so much out as Mr Mill would have had us suppose 
 him, when, in answer to Mr Mill's ' no more than this 
 ' (assumed power of prediction) is contended for by 
 ' any one but an Asiatic Fatalist,' he wrote — ' and no 
 ' more than this is needed to construct a system of 
 ' Fatalism as rigid as any Asiatic can desire.' 
 
 That there may be no doubt whatever as regards Mr 
 Mill's position assumed here, it may be weU to refer — 
 even at the risk of some redundancy — to the last sen- 
 tence of the concluding paragraph of his chapter : — 
 ' Because something will certainly happen, if nothing 
 ' is done to prevent it, they (the Fatalists) think it will 
 
86 Necessity one with Mi^ Mill's ' True Doctrine.' 
 
 ' certainly happen, whatever may be done to prevent 
 ' it ; in a word, they believe in Necessity, in the only 
 ' proper meaning of the term — an issue unaltercMe by 
 ' human efforts or desires.' From this, the doctrine 
 of Necessity proper, or Fate, is contradistinguished 
 Mr Mill's ' ill-understood doctrine of so-called Neces- 
 sity,' or ' true doctrine of Causation,' which includes, as 
 of course we must suppose, a belief in issues alter- 
 able by human efforts and desires ; and the distinction 
 is announced a ' fundamental ' one, which Professor 
 Mansel is roundly rated for trying to 'break down.' 
 We shall see, on a very little examination, that Mr 
 Mill himself has broken down dreadfully in trying to 
 set it up. Take any human issue in the past, certain 
 ' human efforts and desires ' concurred to produce, 
 caused it. By what human efforts or desires does Mr 
 Mill suppose it to have been by possibility alterable ? 
 Not surely by the efforts and desires which caused it ! 
 Mr Mill cannot mean to maintain this ! He must 
 needs intend an implication of other efforts and de- 
 sires which in point of fact did not cause it, and could 
 not cause anything else, seeing they did not exist ; 
 and if this implication be not to intrude new ante- 
 cedents dependent on no previous antecedents, and 
 into the 'true doctrine of Causation' to insinuate /ree 
 origination, and the 'absolute commencement' of 
 Hamilton, there has ceased to be virtue in Logic. 
 Again, suppose the issue a future one ! and future 
 issues are, according to Mr Mill, so certain, that — 
 the conditions supposed given us — we could with 
 
Fate and the '■Tr^le Doctrine' identical. 87 
 
 absolute confidence predict them. Once more, by 
 what ' efforts and desires ' does Mr Mill think this 
 certain issue alterable ? By the efforts and desires 
 which, as cause of the issue, we of course must 
 foresee in foreseeing the issue ? This can hardly be. 
 By other ' efforts and desires,' then, which we do not 
 foresee, for the admirable reason, that unless all 
 seq^uence of Causation be annulled, we see them to 
 be absurd and impossible? Mr Mill is positively 
 bound to maintain this last ! ! 
 
 Could the proof be more clear, that between the 
 doctrine of Fate, or Necessity, in the only true meaning 
 of the term, and Mr Mill's ' iU-understood doctrine 
 of so-called Necessity,' or priceless 'true doctrine of 
 Causation,' there is no distinction whatever? Irre- 
 fragably, Mr Mill's ' doctrine of Causation,' in so far 
 as it seeks to sever itself from a doctrine of Tate, or 
 Necessity is the only proper sense of the term, becomes 
 a so-called ' Doctrine of Causation,' or Doctrine of Free- 
 dom in disguise. Seems it not deplorably evident, 
 that Mr Mill's 'ill-understood' doctrine of "so-called 
 Necessity,' or Causation, is but poorly understood — 
 by himself? No wonder it has puzzled other people 
 a little ! (Professor Cairnes, for instance — see Preface.) 
 To pass to the 'true doctrine of Causation,' as by 
 Mr Mill himself discriminated from that of Fate, 
 given in his statement already quoted ! ' The true 
 ' doctrine of the Causation of human actions main- 
 ' tains, in opposition to this, that not only our con- 
 ' duct, but our character, is in 'part amenable to our 
 
88 The ' Vital Tritth in Moral Psychology! 
 
 ' will; that we can, by employing the proper means, 
 ' improve our character ; and that if our character is 
 ' such that while it remains what it is, it necessitates 
 ' us to do wrong, it will be just (expedient ?) to apply 
 ' motives which will necessitate us to strive for its 
 ' improvement, and so emancipate ourselves from the 
 ' other necessity. In other words, we are under a 
 ' moral obligation to seek the improvement of our 
 ' moral character.' 
 
 The dictum — not denied, I believe, by any one — 
 that ' we can by employing the proper means improve 
 our character,' is now again before us as 'this vital 
 ' truth in Moral Psychology that we can improve our 
 ' character, if we, will.' (I shall admit the italics 
 significant, when I find it alleged by a philosopher of 
 the opposite school, that we can improve our charac- 
 ter, if we, wo7i't.) As such, it claims our very particu- 
 lar attention. And some separate attention must be 
 given to Mr Mill's other dictum, that 'the character 
 is (in part) amenable to the will.' (As the merest 
 matter of course, on grounds elsewhere stated, the 
 'in part' may be dropt as of no importance.) Mr 
 Mill is of course profoundly unaware, that these two 
 dicta put forth by him in the same sentence, are in 
 essential meaning wide as the poles asunder. Such, 
 however, is the case ; the first — Freedom of course 
 denied — in no respect whatever distinguishing Mr 
 Mill's doctrine from that of Fate ; the other being a 
 plain implication of that of Free-will denied. This 
 I proceed to show. 
 
The ' Vital Truth in Moral Psychology! 89 
 
 And, first— as to Mr Mill's 'vital truth in Moral 
 Psychology,' as, in relation to the moral problem, 
 discriminating his Doctrine from one of ' Modified 
 Pate.' That 'we can improve our character if we 
 vnll' is, I fancy, not denied by any one not also 
 denying the equally important truth that if we will, 
 we can deteriorate our character. But how this power 
 possessed by us through the will, should any way alter 
 the position, if over the will itself — as Mr Mill of 
 course holds — we have no power, quite declines to 
 become obvious. To have no power over the will by 
 which only the character can be modified, is plainly, 
 to have no power to modify the character. It is absurd 
 to say that over the end we have power, all power 
 over the means being denied us. Wherefore, unless 
 by will here, Mr Mill — as indeed is usual with him — 
 means free will without being aware of it, he will, I 
 fear, be obliged to admit that we cannot modify our 
 character ; that however our character may be modi- 
 fied, it is really modified for us ; that even whilst a 
 man's character seems to be modified ' hy him, as one 
 of the intermediate agents,' 1 it is, in the strictest sense, 
 
 ^ Vide Logic. "In the words of the sect (the Owenites), which in 
 our own day has so perseveringly inculcated, and so perversely mis- 
 understood this great doctrine " (the doctrine I am engaged in criticis- 
 ing), " his character is formed /or him, and not hy him ; therefore his 
 wishing that it had been formed diffierently is of no use ; he has no 
 power to alter it. But this is a grand error. He has, to a certain 
 extent, a power to alter his character. Its heing in the ultimate 
 resort formed for him, is not inconsistent with its heing, in part, 
 formed by him as one of the intermediate agents," cfec. A passage 
 this, which is really in its way quite wonderful. I should suppose that. 
 
90 Mr Mill gets not inuck Good of it. 
 
 modified for liim, as merely tlie lielpless instrument 
 through which an alien energy transmits itself along 
 the infinite procession of causes. The moral personality 
 of man is plainly, from this point of view, abolished. 
 
 We are thus, in terms of the reasoning as above — 
 which, as not mine,''- I venture to suppose unanswer- 
 able — 'not morally responsible for our character, or 
 for the actions it leads to.' Varying the statement a 
 little — for it amounts to no more — this is otherwise 
 sufficiently obvious. "We have abundantly seen, that 
 Mr Mill, in implying that men can help their actions, 
 does manifest outrage to his own professed doctrine, 
 as Causationist. Given a particular action, Mr Mill 
 — though perhaps reluctantly — must admit that as 
 the inevitable outcome of his character, the man could 
 not possibly help it. Is Mr Mill here capable of 
 alleging — Oh ! but he might have improved his char- 
 acter so as to be aile to help it? Sincerely, one 
 hopes not. For to improve or to deteriorate our 
 character is simply to act in some such way as may 
 induce these respective results. And as Mr Mill him- 
 self well says (criticising Kant, and as we see, in so 
 doing, shearing his own legs away) — ' There cannot be 
 
 if we are to think out a subject, it is "the ultimate resort" which 
 chiefly, or even solely, concerns us. Further, in admitting the 
 agency "intermediate" — i.e., inevitably determined — like every 
 other, — as merely the last link in the chain of causal sequence, — it is 
 surprising Mr Mill should not have seen that he remained fixed fast 
 as before in the bonds of a purely Fatalistic theory. 
 
 1 David Hume — not I— is in point of fact responsible for it ; see 
 Note at close of the Discussion. — Appendix, Note III. 
 
The Character amenable to the Will. 9 1 
 
 ' one theory for one class of actions and another theory 
 ' for another.' If the man ' could not h.d'p ' his bad 
 action, as birth of his evil character, as little could he 
 ' possibly help the series of previous actions, by which 
 that character was developed to evil, and not to good. 
 Consequently, under Mr Mill's own — ' Yes ; if he 
 reaUy " could not help " acting as he did,' from which, 
 as aforetime announced, and noiu with full deliberation 
 repeated, he cannot with any grace retreat — the sinner 
 is absolved from all moral responsibility, for his char- 
 acter alike and his actions. 
 
 I have thus doubly shown that Mr Mill's one dictum, 
 ' we can improve our character if we will,' cannot, if 
 conjoined with denial of Preedoni, be rationally, in its 
 moral bearings, distinguished from a doctrine of Fate. 
 I proceed to show, and show doubly (if only to 
 symmetrise the discussion), that his other dictum — 
 ' the character is amenable to the wiU,' is, except as an 
 implication of the Freedom denied, a foi'm of words to 
 which we can attach no rational meaning whatever. 
 'The Character is amenable to the Will!' Yet, 
 plainly, there can be nothing in the Will which was 
 not previously in the Character. The Character is a 
 product of the Will, the Will a product of the Charac- 
 ter ! Was there ever a more vicious circle ? What 
 are we really to make of Mr Mill's ' the character is 
 amenable to the will,' and modified by it, coupled with 
 its converse, even vehemently held to by Mr Mill, that 
 the will is so wholly amenable to the character as to 
 be its mere necessitated product ? All that any one 
 
92 The Character amenable to the Will. 
 
 will ever be able to make of it is an announcement of 
 a self-modifying character. This, in effect, or nothing, 
 is the doctrine to which Mr Mill is here committed. 
 But how a self-modifying or self- determining cliaracter 
 is any whit more explicable than the self-determining 
 will, to which his objection is insuperable, or indeed, 
 is at aU to be distinguished from it, Mr Mill will find 
 it not easy to explain. Oddly enough, Mr Mill acutely 
 sees this point ; and on the very opposite page presses 
 it, as against Kant. What he lacks the acuteness to 
 see is, that in applying the scythe to Kant he most 
 effectually, as we saw a little ago, mows his own luckless 
 legs off. (Eeaders sufficiently interested in the subject 
 are referred to the book itself, where they will find this 
 novel operation in surgery in the most masterly manner 
 performed.) 
 
 Again — is the man one thing ; the will of the man 
 another thing ; and the character of the man a third 
 thing 1 Are not rather the three terms, however 
 superficially discriminated, fundamentally in meaning 
 identical ? We speak of a had character as meaning a 
 bad man ; and this with really greater philosophical 
 accuracy than in saying that such an one has a bad 
 character. A character is not something external to, 
 and possessed by the man, like a sum of money in his 
 breeches' pocket ; it is the veritable man himself, re- 
 garded from the point of view of the Moralist. So 
 likewise of the Will, which is not any kind of spiritual 
 arm or leg, as it were, which the man makes use of as 
 he does of these bodily members ; but very literally 
 
Really means Freedom, or — Nothing. 93 
 
 ' the mau willing' or operative in volitional act. Tide, 
 Hamilton — ' The will is merely an abbreviated expres- 
 sion for the man willing.' That again, the character 
 and the will, as each thus identified with the man, are 
 really identical with each other, is sufficiently familiar 
 to Mr Mill, who (see Logic) quotes with approval 
 Novalis, to the effect that ' a character is a completely 
 fashioned ivill.' This being so — and the very slightest 
 reflection will show it can be no otherwise — the man, 
 the character of the man, and the ivill of the man being 
 merely three words, in essential meaning the same, 
 what of Mr Mill's ' character amenable to the Will,' 
 and modified by it? It is seen to be utterly without 
 meaning, except as a man, will, or character, seZZ-modi- 
 fying, or otherwise — Free.-' 
 
 ^ In addition to the difficulties really essential to it, this subject is 
 constantly liable to he heset hy others originating in the accumulation 
 about it of terms almost inevitable to be made use of, but which yet 
 are rationally superfluous. Such are Will and Volition, which are 
 really no more than mere words, to which nothing in existence corre- 
 sponds. Voluntary, as distinguished from mvoluntary action, is 
 simply action of which, as wiotive, we are conscious j and the Will can 
 be nothing but the man himself operative in his conscious act. But 
 so soon as, in current phrase, we begin to speak of the Will of the 
 man — of the will as something which the man Aas— inevitably we are 
 apt to forget this, and to lapse into grievous confusions. So also with 
 volition, which — somewhat as Byron surmised that Junius was ' really, 
 truly, nobody at all ' — cannot be apprehended as anything distinct 
 from the act, in which it appears— to use a strong metaphor — incar- 
 nate. Volition is no more than a word by which we have agreed to 
 bridge over that chasm of unknown process, which intervenes between 
 the man in the condition of desire or motive, and the man as he flashes 
 into act. By the slightest attention, who will may convince himself 
 that between the desire and the act there is no intermediate mental 
 state or act corresponding to the term volition. The volition and the 
 
94 The ' Vital Truth ' the merest Truism. 
 
 Of the doctrines of rreedom and Fate, we have thus 
 in Mr Mill's reasonings seen plenty ; but of the via 
 media announced as ' the true Doctrine of Causation/ 
 as yet we have seen nothing. It has only been heard 
 of from Mr Mill, an oracle addressing us hitherto from 
 the awful cloud of confusion. Let us see whether from 
 the one point of view which remains, this oracle can 
 be interpreted in any such way as would suit its 
 oracular pretensions? As I said — 'to improve our 
 character by employing the proper means' is simply 
 to act in the particular manner fitted to produce that 
 result — and so of deteriorating our character. What, 
 then, does Mr Mill's ' we can improve our character if 
 we will ' really, after all, amount to ? Simply to this 
 tritest and most trivial of truisms — that if we effectively 
 will a particular action, we can perform it. Thus, if 
 I have the little misfortune to be a drunkard, there 
 is chance I might ' improve my character ' by staying 
 
 act are not, as Hamilton would have phrased it, ' numerically differ- 
 ent. ' Of the confusions not unlikely to arise in their being so con- 
 sidered, the following is a good instance {Mill on Hamilton) — 'Direct 
 ' power over my volitions, I am conscious of none. In common with 
 ' one half of the psychological world, I am wholly ignorant of my 
 ' possessing any such power.' Mr Mill (System of Logic) — ' Their will 
 has no direct jjower except over their own actions.' (If Mr Mill, to 
 escape from a difficulty, is disposed to maintain that by ' their will ' 
 here — the will of the men — he means anything different from the 
 men themselves, as willing, it will be easy, on his saying what he 
 means, to prove that he does not mean anything.) Thus, according 
 to Mr Mill, he has power over his actions, but over the necessary in- 
 termediates or means, called volitions, he has no power. How ever 
 could Mr Mill explain this except as a power of acting without voli- 
 tions, yet with them, inasmuch as his acts are voluntary ; of acting 
 voluntarily at once and mvoluntarily ? 
 
A Truism by no Fatalist denied. 95 
 
 away from the public-house. Who questions that if I 
 will to stay away from the public-house, I can stay 
 away ; or, unless he were a deep philosopher, would 
 think of calling such a thing by so big a name as ' a 
 Vital truth in moral Psychology'? Admitting it a 
 vital and important truth, is it any whit more vital 
 and important than its fellow, that, if I will to go to 
 the public-house, I can go to it ? Was ever such a 
 mountain of philosophic intelligence, as Mr Mill is on 
 all hands admitted, delivered of a mouse so ridiculous ? 
 Was ever so ridiculous a mouse, when its parent came 
 to give it a name, thus monstered into something like 
 an elephant ? Mr Mill here reminds me of nothing so 
 much as of a child blowing its bubble in the sun and 
 entranced with its own performance. Lo you ! the 
 little orb ascends, glowing with prismatic radiance ; 
 do but prick it with the merest needle-point, and it 
 descends in a drop of dirty water. ' We can improve 
 our character if we vnlV, if we will, we can deteriorate 
 our character; according as we may chance to will 
 either way, we can go to the public-house or not go. 
 So in the concrete interpreted, in this there is plainly 
 nothing but ' the liberty as to which,' as Hume says, 
 ' there can be no subject of dispute ; if we choose to 
 ' remain at rest, we may ; if we choose to move, we also 
 ' may' — what Hamilton calls ' the liberty of Spontaneity 
 (to Do as we will), a liberty which no Fatalist ever dis- 
 allowed.' This, which no Fatalist ever disallowed, or 
 needs disallow, which nobody, in fact, would dream of 
 disallowing, were he thrice over Fatalist, is what dis- 
 
96 The Fatalist and Moral Causationist. 
 
 criminates Mr Mill's ' true doctrine of Causation ' from 
 the doctrine (obnoxious) of Fate ! ! ^ 
 
 Mr Mill gives a slight sketch of the extremely in- 
 telligible modus, in which his ' moral Causationist, desir- 
 ' ing to improve his character, may do it by the iise of 
 ' proper means ; ' and he contrasts with him the ' modi- 
 fied Fatalist,' who ' will not use these means, for he 
 will not believe in their efficacy.'^ He then winds up 
 
 ' In the above I have simply expanded the criticism on Mr Mill at 
 this point, indicated by Dr Travis in liis interesting work, Moral 
 Freedom reconciled with Causation — h/ the Analysis of the Process of 
 Self- Determination. By Henry Travis, M. D. London : Longmans, 
 Green, and Co., 1865. 
 
 ' Mr Mill's Logic — "If we examine closely we shall iind that this 
 
 ' ' feeling of being able to modify our character if we wish, is itself 
 
 ' ' the feeling of moral freedom which we are conscious of. A person 
 
 ' ' feels morally free who feels that his habits or his temptations are 
 
 "not his masters, but he theirs ; who, even in yielding to them, 
 
 "knows that he could resist," ' &c. But to be able to modify our 
 
 character, without having power to determine our volitions, is only to 
 
 have power to perform the acts which are requisite to produce the 
 
 result ; and this is only what is called freedom to act, to which the 
 
 Necessitarian doctrine, even in its less qualified form, is not opposed ! 
 
 —(P. 36, 37.) 
 
 Dr Travis's book — as its title implies — professes to conciliate in 
 Intelligence the 'opposite opinions' which, according to Hamilton, 
 can only be conciliated in Belief In my opinion, it quite fails to do 
 so, almost as a matter of course. It is not the less an excellent and 
 instructive work ; and a reader must be very unusually well informed 
 on the subject, who will not derive something from its close and care- 
 ful preliminary risumi of the argument on both sides. 
 
 " ' Suppose that a person dislikes some part of his own character, 
 ' and would be glad to change it. He cannot, as he well knows, 
 ' change it by a mere act of volition. He must use the means which 
 ' nature gives to ourselves, as she gives to our parents and teachers, of 
 ' influencing our characters by appropriate circumstances. If he is a 
 ' Modified Fatalist, Jte will not use those means, for he will not believe 
 
The Fatalist and Moral Causationist. 97 
 
 — ' I cannot suppose my critics capable of maintaining 
 ' that such a difference as this between the two theories, 
 ' is of no practical importance ; and I must with all 
 ' courtesy decline to recognise as entitled to any voice 
 ' in the question, whoever is not able to seize a distinc- 
 ' tion so broad and obvious.' 
 
 A Fatalist, as Mr MiU here defines him, is a person 
 who ' disbelieves in the efficacy of means '■ — who, being 
 a drunkard, says — ' a drunkard I am fated to remain ; ^ 
 ' it is no matter, therefore, whether I stay away from 
 ' the customary public-house, or go to it. Of course I 
 ' can at will do either ; but it really does not matter 
 ' which I do ; the result, as fated, must be the same ! ' 
 This gentleman, supposed, is a Patalist, and a fool to 
 boot ; what, in effect, he is capable of saying is, that 
 
 ' m their efficacy ; but will remain passively discontented with himself, 
 ' or, what ia worse, will learn to be contented, thinking that his 
 ' character has been made for him, and that he cannot make it over 
 ' again, however willing. If, on the contrarj', he is a Moral Causa- 
 ' tionist, he will know that the work is not finally and irrevocably 
 ' done ; that the improvement of his character is still possible by the 
 ' proper means, the only condition being that he should desire what 
 ' by the supposition, he does desire ; consequently, if the desire is 
 ' stronger than the means are disagreeable, he "will set about doing 
 ' that, which if done, will improve his character.' — (P. 586, 587.) 
 
 ^ Why suppose any one capable of this ? If a man is a Fatalist and 
 a drunkard, he must very well know that other people have been 
 drunkards like himself, who yet afterwards became models of sobriety. 
 Their character, at first determined for them to drunkenness, was 
 afterwards determined /or them to sobriety. In these cases — with no 
 harm to Fatalistic Theory — ' the work was not finally and irrevocably 
 done. ' Why must a man cease to be a Fatalist, and become what Mr 
 MiU calls a Moral Causationist, in order to believe that possibly in 
 his case also, ' the work is not finally and irrevocably done ' ? 
 
 G 
 
gS Mr Mill's Fatalist an Idiot. 
 
 he must remain a drunkard, whether or no he gives up 
 his habit of drinking. A cessation from drink is the 
 mmn by which he may cease to be a drunlcard ; and of 
 this mean he ' does not believe in the efficacy.' Mr 
 Mill may call him a ' Modified Fatalist ' if he will ; I 
 should prefer to call him, for my own part, a quite un- 
 modified idiot. A man of this sort — his house being 
 on fire aboiit his ears — would say — ' If I am fated to be 
 ' burnt, I shall be burnt — I need not, therefore, take the 
 ' trouble to walk out.' Except that, indeed, his pro- 
 cedure would indicate a certain 'belief in the efficacy 
 of means,' he might as well at once plunge headlong 
 into the flames ; for, even if we suppose him to escape 
 them, it is plain he could not long survive. Such a 
 man would presently decline food, on the ground that, 
 if he was fated to be starved to death, he would be so ; 
 and starved he would accordingly be. Fatalists of this 
 particular type, are, I should imagine, rare; Mr Mill 
 seems to indicate that he has known several specimens ; 
 I can only regret, for my own part, that I have not 
 been equally fortunate. 
 
 There is, however, another type of Fatalist, with 
 which I am more familiar ; and it is a type, by Mr 
 Mill himself glanced at in his closing paragraph 
 already alluded to — ' Before leaving the subject, it is 
 ' worth while to remark, that not only the doctrine of 
 ' Necessity' (as distinguished from the 'true doctrine 
 ' of Causation,' belike), ' but Predestination in its 
 ' coarsest form, if combined with a belief that God 
 ' works according to general laws, which have to be 
 
Another type of Fatalist. 99 
 
 ' learnt from experience, lias no tendency to make us act 
 ' in any respect otherwise than we should do, if we 
 ' thought our actions really contingent' &c. &c. 
 
 This kind of Fatalist 'believes in the efficacy of 
 ' means ' — employs them just as if he believed in Free- 
 will ; and believes, in so employing them, that this also 
 is Fate; that the end (unknown) being fated, the 
 employment of the means also is. And between a 
 Fatalist of this kind, and Mr Mill, as Moral Causa- 
 tionist, consistently developing his doctrine, I confess I 
 am ' able to seize no distinction.' Between Mr Mill's 
 doctrine and that of the other fatalist, adduced by Mr 
 Mill for his argumentative purpose of contrast, I do 
 seize a distinction — that, namely, between a doctrine, 
 as it exists in the mind of a narrow blockhead who sees 
 only one corner of a subject, and mis-sees even that, 
 and as it lives in the mind of a man of wide and pierc- 
 ing intelligence like Mr Mill, who sees, at least, a good 
 deal more of it. And than this — the distinction between 
 a doctrine, as held by a sage and an idiot, few distinc- 
 tions are more ' broad and obvious,' or of greater ' prac- 
 tical importance.' If this distinction — important and 
 obvious, yet not, I admit, 'fundamental ' — be not ' broad' 
 enough for Mr Mill, I must e'en submit, as I may, to 
 be told that, ' with all courtesy, he declines to recognise 
 ' me as entitled to any voice in the question.' What 
 need I say in reply, except — with an emulous refine- 
 ment of courtesy — that whether or no, I care not, as 
 declining to recognise in Mr Mill on this subject, even 
 a semblance of authority ? 
 
loo A amozis Dictum. 
 
 To go on with Mr Mill's note — ' Mr Alexander's 
 ' curious dictum that a motive is itself an act, can only 
 ' have a true meaning, or any meaning at all, if under- 
 ' stood of this indirect influence of our voluntary acts 
 ' over our mental dispositions. That a person can, by 
 ' an act of will, either give to himself or take away from 
 ' himself a desire or an aversion, I suppose even Mr 
 ' Alexander will hardly affirm ; but we can, by a course 
 ' of self-culture, finally modify, to a greater or less 
 ' extent, our desires or aversions ; which is the doctrine 
 ' of Moral Causation, as distinguished from Modified 
 ' Patalism.' 
 
 As regards Mr Mill's remark on what he calls ' Mr 
 ' Alexander's curious dictum, that a motive is itself an 
 ' act', nothing need really be said, except that, how- 
 ever Mr Mill might be pleased to consider it curious, 
 it ought not at least to have been novel to him ? A 
 motive being defined in Mr Mill's unexceptionable 
 terms as ' a desire or aversion,' the thing is as old as 
 Epictetus, whom Mr Mill must surely have read — 
 ' III nostra potestafe est opinio, appetitio, desideriurn, 
 ' aversatio, et, ut uno complectar verbo, quslibet 
 ' nostrse actiones.' It is also to be found in another 
 writer, whom Mr Mill must be supposed to have read 
 — though at odd times, as we have seen, there might 
 almost seem reason to doubt of this — to wit. Sir W. 
 Hamilton. ' We are unable to conceive an act of will 
 ' as not an effect, — i.e., as undetermined by a motive ; 
 ' and if we identify, as we may, the motive with an 
 ' anterior act of will, we fall at once,' &c. Whether a 
 
Mr Mill's Idiot again, loi 
 
 motive, (defined as a desire) be with utmost accuracy to 
 be called an act, who will may decide. I should rather 
 suppose not : but that the mass of our desires compli- 
 cate themselves with act, as in definite relation to the 
 will, whereby, to a certain extent, they may be stimu- 
 lated or controlled at pleasure, will not, I suppose, be 
 denied by any one ; and this was all that was needed 
 to constitute my argument aimed at. Mr MiU is 
 thus not very far from the mark, in saying that my 
 ' curious dictum ' ' can only have a true meaning, 
 ' or any meaning at all, if understood of this indirect 
 ' influence of our voluntary acts over our mental 
 ' dispositions.' But does Mr Mill really suppose, 
 that any rational Fatalist would think himself 
 interested to deny such an influence ? that by includ- 
 ing in his own ' doctrine of Causation ' this ' indirect 
 ' influence of our voluntary acts over our mental dis- 
 ' positions,' he discriminates it from a doctrine of Fate ? 
 If so, he is a prey to the merest hallucination. A 
 Fatalist, an intelligent Fatalist— I do not concern my- 
 self with the idiot, whom, under the title of Fatalist, 
 Mr Mill erects into a philosopher — would admit, in the 
 frankest way, what no rational creature denies — 'the 
 influence of voluntary acts over the dispositions; ' but 
 he would refer them to the previous dispositions, and 
 maintain that dispositions and acts alike were involved 
 in the circle of Fate. And, unless by once again airing 
 his idiot upon us, as the only authentic Fatalist, Mr 
 Mill, so far as I can see, would have no reply to ofl"er. 
 As to Mr Mill's — ' "We can by a course of self-cul- 
 
I02 Rational Fatalism. 
 
 ture finally modify/ &c. &c., the answer to it is pre- 
 cisely identical. It will be plain, in the light of what 
 I have already said, that no Fatalist needs seek to deny 
 all this. A rational Fatalist may as frankly admit, or 
 assert it, as Mr John Stuart Mill himself, who, as 
 ' Moral Causationist' (whatever tlfiat may mean — and I 
 profess that, after my very best study, I do not in the 
 least know), considers it a peculium, or exclusive pro- 
 perty, to him. 
 
Fate and Moral Distinctions. lo.- 
 
 IX. 
 
 I HAVE uow considered at every point important 
 enough to call for special remark, the ' Notes ' to Mr 
 Mill's Chapter, in which he is good enough, by name, 
 to recognise me. In addition to these, I observe, in- 
 corporated with his text, a paragraph of some length 
 and elaboration, which is pretty plainly intended — 
 though expressly I am not mentioned — to rebut cer- 
 tain strictures I had ventured to make on one of 
 Mr Mill's arguments. Mr Mill (page 509, 1st ed.) 
 beino- minded to maintain, that even on the extremest 
 hypothesis of Fate, 'moral distinctions' would still 
 continue to exist, not only as recognised (which is one 
 thino-) but as real (which is quite another, though Mr 
 Mill seems throughout unaware of this) illustrated his 
 position by supposing two distinct breeds of human 
 creatures, destitute alike of Free-wiU, and irresistibly 
 determined, respectively, by the very constitution of 
 their nature, to the extremes of good and of evil. The 
 distinctions between the actions of these two classes 
 of creatures, according to Mr Mni, would not the less 
 be moral distinctions. This I peremptorily denied; 
 assertino' that in such a case, the distinctions would be 
 
I04 Mr Mill not intending to beg the Qtcestion, 
 
 mere distinctions of utility, simply as such; distinc- 
 tions of good and evil indeed, in the sense of benefit 
 and injury, yet not without plain absurdity, to be con- 
 secrated as distinctions of moral good and evil. In 
 the passage which he now interpolates, a certain ground 
 of justice in my criticism, Mr Mill seems candidly dis- 
 posed to admit (p. 574, 3d ed.) 
 
 ' An opponent may say,' he writes, ' that this is not 
 ' a distinction between moral good and evil ; and / am 
 'far from, intending to beg the question against him. 
 ' But neither can he be permitted to beg the question 
 ' by assuming that the distinction is not moral because it 
 ' does not imply Free-will.' Now this, most distinctly 
 I did not do; and to represent me as so doing (though 
 I am not by name mentioned, there cannot, I suppose, 
 be a doubt, that Mr MiU here refers to my remarks) 
 is simply plain misstatement. Without hint of a ref- 
 erence to Free-will in the matter, it seemed sufficient 
 for my purpose to observe, that Mr Mill's well-dis- 
 posed breed, instead of being ' honoured as demigods,' 
 according to Mr Mill's notion, would more probably 
 be despised as idiots — amiable idiots indeed, or inno- 
 cents, but not likely, as such, to become objects of 
 devoted Hero-worship ; that, on the other hand, his 
 emZ-disposed breed was by his own very definition of 
 it, identified with the class of homicidal maniacs ; and 
 that unless maniacs were to be held moral agents, 
 these creatures precisely identical could not be so 
 held. And the sum of the matter was, that Mr Mill 
 was not a little absurd in seeking to illustrate moral 
 
Begs it, 105 
 
 distinctions by the actions of creatures thus shown to 
 have no moral agency. Unless, indeed, Mr Mill might 
 chance to hold (as perhaps in point of fact he does) 
 that in order to moral action or agency, no moral 
 agents are needed. At what precise point of my argu- 
 ment here, I ' assume that the distinction is not moral 
 because it does not imply Free-will,' Mr Mill, if I do 
 not greatly mistake, would find himself much puzzled 
 to indicate.-^ 
 
 It is not a little amusing, that Mr Mill, having for- 
 mally announced that he ' is far from intending to beg 
 this question ' against me, with an admirable philoso- 
 phical composure, proceeds the very next instant, to 
 h&g it, over a whole page and a half : — 
 
 ' The reality of moral distinctions, and the freedom 
 ' of our volitions, are questions independent of one 
 ' another. My position is, that a human being who 
 ' loves, disinterestedly and consistently, his feUow- 
 ' creatures, and whatever tends to their good, who 
 ' hates with a vigorous hatred what causes them evil, 
 ' and whose actions correspond in character with those 
 
 ^ Had I anywhere in my argument implied that the moral distinc- 
 tion between a sane man and a maniac is, that the one has Free-will, 
 the other not, Mr Mill might have had some colour for his statement. 
 But I did not anywhere do this. Assuming, what every one admits, 
 that a maniac — on whatever ground — is not a moral agent, I identified 
 with maniacs Mr Mill's evil brmd of human creatures, on no more 
 abstruse consideration than this, that by the very definition of them, 
 as Mr Mill himself allowed, or indeed asserted, they could only be 
 ' regarded as noxious beasts ' and treated accordingly. The question 
 of Free-will at this point I left completely in abeyance ; to have done 
 otherwise would have been to be guilty as by Mr Mill libelled. 
 
1 06 Over a whole Page and a half. 
 
 ' feelings, is naturally, necessarily, and reasonably, an 
 ' object to be loved, admired, sympathised ■with, and 
 ' in all ways cherished and encouraged by mankind ; 
 ' while a person who has none of these qualities, or so 
 ' little that his actions continually jar with the good 
 ' of others, and that for purposes of his own he is 
 ' ready to inflict on them a great amount of evil, is a 
 ' natural and legitimate object of their fixed aversion, 
 ' and of conduct conformable thereto ; and this whether 
 ' the will be free or not, and even independently of any 
 ' theory of the difference between right and wrong ; 
 ' whether right means productive of happiness, and 
 ' wrong productive of misery, or right and wrong are 
 ' intrinsic qualities of the actions themselves, provided 
 ' only we recognise that there is a difference, and that 
 ' the difference is highly important. What I maintain 
 ' is, that this is a suflBicient distinction between moral 
 ' good and evil ; sufficient for the ends of society, and 
 ' sufficient for the individual conscience — that we need 
 ' no other distinction ; that, if there be any other dis- 
 ' tinction we can dispense with it ; and that supposing 
 ' acts in themselves good or evil to be as uncondition- 
 ' ally determined from the beginning of things as if 
 ' they were phenomena of dead matter, still if the 
 ' determination from the beginning of things has been 
 ' that they shall take place through my love of good, 
 ' and hatred of evil, I am a proper object of esteem 
 ' and affection ; and if that they shall take place 
 'through my love of self and indifference to good, I 
 ' am a fit object of aversion, which may rise to abhor- 
 
Mr Mill's mode of doing so. 107 
 
 ' rence. And no competently informed person will 
 ' deny that, as a matter of fact, those who have held 
 ' this creed have had as strong a feeling, both emo- 
 ' tional and practical, of moral distinctions, as any 
 ' other people.' 
 
 In all this, I find nothing but steady dogmatic 
 assertion, commended to the reader by Mr Mill's 
 consummate mastery of clear and ingenious state- 
 ment, the art of which in this case consists in heaping 
 up about the subject a profusion of emotional terms, — 
 ' esteem, affection, aversion, admiration, abhorrence,' 
 &c. &c. &c., beset with inevitable moral associations, 
 Mr Mill's title to profit by which is the very matter 
 in dispute. In this mode of begging a question, Mr 
 Mill seldom indeed fails to exhibit himself an adept. 
 To Mr Mill's dogmatic assertion here, a steady dog- 
 matic counter-assertion, with a request that he wiU be 
 good enough to prove that the aversion and abhorrence 
 he speaks of could, on clear grounds of reason stated, 
 substantiate themselves as moral aversion and abhor- 
 rence, seems the fit and sufficient answer ; and if 
 anything further were needed, the easy method of 
 reply which sufficed for his first crude statement may 
 very well suffice for this later one, which only differs 
 from the first as somewhat more plausibly padded 
 out. Let us suppose a man whose 'acts are uncon- 
 ditionally determined ' to a particular extreme of evil, 
 ' as if they were phenomena of dead matter,' and who 
 rushes into homicide, let us say, by a chronic impulse 
 of rage as irresistible as the law by which a stone 
 
1 08 Easy Method with Mr Mill, 
 
 unattached inevitably falls to the ground. It would 
 be interesting to know how Mr Mill would discrimi- 
 nate such a man from a homicidal maniac.'- He can- 
 not allege his use of reason ; for, &x hypothesi, he has 
 no such use of it as could avail him for avoidance of 
 the crime ; neither can he say, that whilst the maniac 
 is not so, the man is ' amenable to motive ; ' for again, 
 inasmuch as the motive could not possibly deter, the 
 man was not really ' amenable ' to it. Pending Mr 
 Mill's demonstration of difference between them, I 
 venture to assume the homicidal man, irresistibly de- 
 termined to murder as stones are to fall to the earth, 
 
 1 Perhaps Mr Mill had better not attempt to do so, as it does not 
 seem likely he would succeed. Vide passage in his Logic hefore com- 
 mented on (p. 83) ; — ' Human actions are never (except in some cases 
 ' of mania) ruled by any one motive with such absolute sway that 
 ' there is no room for the influence of any other. The causes, there- 
 ' fore, on which action depends are never uncontrollable.' I have 
 already remarked that this statement is really a Free-will one, as in 
 manifest outrage of the doctrine of unconditional Causation. What 
 seems here to be remarked is, that maniacal action is by Mr Mill 
 expressly defined as 'ruled by one motive with such absolute sway, 
 that there is no room for the influence of any other,' and as so ruled, 
 'uncontrollable.' Sane action, again, is action the causes of which 
 are controllable ; action not so raled by a motive but that ' there is 
 room for the influence of other motives.' But this, from Mill's point 
 of view, I take leave to consider nonsense. How possibly, within 
 the sphere of Causation, could there be room for any motives other 
 than those causally efiicient (in which, of course, we include those 
 present, though — in a loose sense — mon-eifieient), by which the action 
 was determined, and determined — except as we intrude these other 
 motives — uncontrollably f If, as Mr Mill implies, this character of 
 uncontroUableness, as being ' ruled by a motive leaving room for the 
 influence of no other ' be the sign of insane action, it seems plain, that 
 for any consistent Causationist, sane action is in no respect to be 
 distinguished from it, as equally partaking of this character. 
 
Contimied. 1 09 
 
 as in every moral regard identical with the homicidal 
 maniac. And what is true of this extreme case must 
 of course equally be true in cases less extreme; for 
 as Mr Mill has well told us, 'there cannot be one 
 ' theory for one kind of voluntary actions, and another 
 ' theory for another kind.' Consequently, for no bad 
 action whatever, ' unconditionally determined as if it 
 were a phenomenon of dead matter,' is a man more 
 morally responsible than if he were urged to it by 
 'maniacal impulse ! That this view, in which for our 
 evil actions we are no more hlamabU than maniacs, 
 is 'sufficient for the ends of society,' may in some 
 sense be admitted ; for the man, though not morally 
 responsible, Society, for its own ends, may malce, if it 
 will, responsible, and hang him out of hand, or, failing 
 that, shut him up. How, as Mr MiU alleges, it is also 
 ' sufficient for the individual conscience,' self-approving 
 or self-condemning, I meantime fail to discern. 
 
 As to the other kind of man, all whose actions are 
 supposed ' from the beginning of things unconditionally 
 determined to good, like phenomena of dead matter,' 
 he might as well be a dead man at once, phUanthropi- 
 cally set at work by a stimulus from galvanic batteries 
 cunningly brought to bear upon him,^ for any moral 
 
 1 Let .me utilise this suggestion a little. Suppose the resources of 
 Science capable of such a thing— a corpse heing furnished to us, by 
 cunning ^applications of galvanism, we can so stimulate it that life is 
 exactly simulated, and it goes about performing good and bad actions 
 at the will of the scientific gentleman who works it from behind the 
 scenes. Mr Mill would, I suppose, admit, that not the poor corpse- 
 puppet, but the scientific operator, was to be blamed if it committed 
 
1 1 o Illustration in an easy Way. 
 
 quality, rationally to his actions attributable. In 
 speaking of 'encouragement' to such a man, surely 
 Mr Mill speaks idly ; in regard of such a man utterly 
 incapable of lapse, encouragement and temptation alike 
 are seen to have no meaning. There could be no sense 
 in encouraging him, except, perhaps, ■pour encourager 
 les autres less happily and abnormally constituted. 
 That he might be an object of esteem, I admit ; but the 
 esteem would, I apprehend, be of a negative, and not 
 very vividly moral kind, like that which we accord to 
 sheep, on the ground that they are good enough not to 
 turn tigers upon us. To illustrate this matter in an 
 easy way, let me suppose the advent of some wonderful 
 billiard-player, who invariably, on taking up his cue, 
 proceeded to make his game off the balls ; under whose 
 charming hand the balls, as if bewitched, perpetually 
 either cannoned, or softly subsided in the pocket ; who, 
 let him try what hopeless stroke he would, was never 
 known to fail to score ! Certainly he would flutter a 
 little, at first, the Volsces of the sporting circles ; his 
 
 murder ; to be praised if it carried a good Irish Bill through Parlia- 
 ment. And suppose that Science could go further, and bestomng life 
 and consciousness, could now produce the very same actions, not 
 directly, but through a medium of emotion generated— 'love of good 
 or love of self and indifference to good,' does Mr Mill really suppose 
 the state of the case thus altered ? Plainly it is not the least so ; the 
 scientific operator is still the real agent— the apparent agent merely 
 his puppet, in regard of whom moral judgments can have clearly no 
 manner of relevancy. And between such a galvanised puppet and 
 Mr Mill's supposed man, whose acts are ' unconditionally determined 
 ' from the beginning of things as if they were phenomena of dead 
 'matter,' no moral distinction can ever possibly be substantiated 
 Vide as to this. Note on Hume. — (Appendix, Note III.) 
 
Ilhistration in an easy Way. 1 1 1 
 
 skill would be reckoned a marvel. But suppose it 
 came presently to be known that all this took place by 
 a mysterious law of nature as constant as that of gravi- 
 tation; that, let him play as wildly, aimlessly, reck- 
 lessly as he would, the man was, under this strange law, 
 absolutely necessitated to score. The man would still 
 be recognised as a marvellous billiard-playing product 
 of nature; but should we ever more hear tell of his 
 skill? Pretty plainly, -not; some lurking possibility 
 of failure is essential to the very notion. One would 
 not peril a serious argument on an analogy so off-hand 
 as this ; but it seems to me that in the moral sphere, 
 the case is not essentially otherwise. There, also, some 
 distinct possibility oi failure is the necessary condition 
 of any merit, to be rationally attributed to success. Easy 
 indeed to throw sixes any number of times in succession, 
 if you are allowed first to load your dice. A man 
 such as Mr Mill here supposes, unconditionally deter- 
 mined in every case to good, as inevitably as a stone is 
 to the ground, would be, so to speak, playing with dice 
 which he had previously got loaded to suit him. No 
 thanks to him for throwing his virtuous sixes any 
 number of times successively. ISTot the less, should his 
 sixes be from time to time thrown to me, in the form 
 of £60 cheques, I should make it a point to regard him 
 with some degree of ' esteem and affection.' Primarily, 
 my esteem and affection would be directed rather to 
 the cheques than the man, and only to the man as 
 ' associated ' with them ; but in time — there is no say- 
 ing — an ' inseparable association ' might be established ; 
 
I 1 2 Necessitarians not necessarily Scoundrels. 
 
 and the affection -which I had rationally entertained 
 for his cheques, I might afterwards transfer to the 
 man. I should no whit the le,ss, in doing so, be a 
 merely hallucinated blockhead ; the man would no whit 
 the more, in throwing his inevitable sixes, be proved 
 to be morally meritorious. In having gradually come 
 to so consider him, under the ' law of inseparable 
 association,' I should simply have been befooled by 
 that law ; a misfortune from which so sagacious a 
 person as Mr Mill has not always contrived to escape.-' 
 As to Mr Mill's concluding sentence, — " And no com- 
 petently informed person wUl deny, that, as a matter 
 of fact, those who have held this creed, have had as 
 strong a feeling, both emotional and practical, of moral 
 distinctions, as any other people" — I should suppose 
 that what he says in it may be quite true ; were it not 
 indeed, that, as believing he can help his actions, he is 
 not the unconditional Causationist he thinks he is, Mr 
 Mill himself, in virtue of the noble ethical fervour 
 which glows in very much of his writing, might very 
 well serve as an instance to illustrate his own position 
 here. But what if it be to the full, as Mr MiU says ? 
 It is worthless for any purpose of his argument. Sup- 
 
 1 I do not myself see tliat, from the point of view indicated, these 
 arguments can well be answered. By changing the point of view, it 
 might be quite possible to develop the paradox from them, that the 
 more virtuous a man is, the less virtuous, in the sense of havin" merit 
 attributed to him ; the more vicious the less vicious, in the sense of 
 being subject of blame. This would not, however, any whit invali- 
 date the demonstration that on the Necessitarian hypothesis merit 
 demerit, praise, blame, desert, &c., are words with no rational 
 significance. 
 
Reasons why. 1 1 3 
 
 pose that up to the age of five-and-twenty, a man, 
 without much troubling his head, about them, has, in 
 Butler's phrase, 'kept to his natural sense of things;' 
 has never expressly cared to think of questions of 
 Liberty or Necessity ; and as to his moral convictions, 
 has accepted them simply as they came to him, possibly 
 with much earnestness. Somehow, he is led to think of 
 this vexed matter, and — no shame to him on the ground 
 of logic — is convinced by the crushing force of the Neces- 
 sitarian argument. He accepts the doctrine of Necessity, 
 and scouts the idea of Freedom ; yet continues, just 
 as before he did, to believe in Moral Eesponsibility 
 or the reality of moral distinctions. This may very 
 well be on several grounds. For it is just possible he 
 may as little as Mr Mill, understand the doctrine he 
 professes, and, scouting the idea of Freedom, may all 
 the while firmly believe in it ; or not 'believing in it, 
 he may yet have a feeling or instinct of Freedom— a 
 feeling that he can help doing as he does — which clings 
 to him, and is unawares regulative of his feelings 
 otherwise ; or finally, his moral convictions being no 
 less precious to him on the one hand, than his ' specu- 
 lative dogma ' on the other, in his determination to 
 keep to lotli, he may have thought out the relations 
 between them in a quite loose and irresolute way, and 
 as trimmer between Freedom and Fate, have invented 
 for himself some such via Tnedia of utterly illogical 
 compromise as we have seen Mr Mill take up with in 
 his ' Doctrine of Moral Causation.' 
 
 And, further, if we suppose that, as a bolder logician, 
 
 H 
 
114 Mr Mill versus Berkeley again. 
 
 he has resolutely pressed the line of argument which 
 leads him to admit such antagonism between the doc- 
 trine of Necessity and the moral nature of man, that 
 holding, as he does to the first, he must logically reject 
 the other ; what is proved by the fact that his ' prac- 
 tical feeling' in the matter of moral distinctions remains 
 precisely as it was ? That the reasonings were fcdse 
 by which, speculatively, he was led to reject them? 
 Surely, nay. All that seems really proved is, that a 
 ' speculative dogma ' accepted, has failed — as indeed 
 we should expect — to extirpate a 'practical feeling,' 
 founded on education, original instinct, or what you 
 will, and worked into the very fibre of the mind by the 
 associations of a whole quarter of a century. Does 
 Mr Mill, of all men, need to be reminded that such 
 rooted habits of feeling could only yield, if at all, with 
 the utmost slowness, and as ' counter-associations might 
 be formed ' ? i Of what importance then is it to 
 allege the persistence of the practical feeling as 
 opposed to the speculative conclusion? Here, once 
 more, in effect, Mr Mill, emulous of Dr Johnson, 
 despised as ' a man of much over-rated ability,' ^ is 
 seen vigorously kicking a stone with his foot, and 
 considering he triumphs over Berkeley. At this rate, 
 people will begin to suspect that Dr Johnson is by no 
 
 ' Is it necessary to note here that no coimter-associations could in 
 such case be formed, by comparison, of any potency ? 
 
 2 Somewhere in Mr Mill's Logic. I liave not cared to overhaul the 
 passage, the book not being at hand. [I have since sought to look 
 up the passage, and have failed to find it. Possibly it may have dis- 
 appeared from the later editions. ] 
 
A n unfortunate Passage. 115 
 
 means the only man of eminence whose abilities have 
 been a little over- rated by the more ardent class of his 
 admirers. 
 
 A few words as to only one other little point, and I 
 dismiss this portion of the subject. In the little Essay 
 which Mr Mill notices, I could not but comment with 
 some sharpness on Mr Mill's unfortunate passage, 
 which I must beg to be excused in once more quot- 
 ing : ' Yes ; if he really "could not help " acting as he 
 ' did ; that is, if it did not depend on his will, if he 
 ' was under physical constraint, or even if he was 
 
 under the action of such a violent motive that no 
 ' fear of punishment could have any effect ; which, if 
 
 capable of being ascertained, is a just ground of 
 ' exemption.' This passage is so plainly to Mr Mill, 
 as Causation] st, unpermitted, that it would have been 
 wisdom for him, on finding it objected to on grounds 
 not to be gainsaid,^ simply to have dropped it from his 
 book. It might then by a kindly critic have been 
 condoned, as merely one of the little inadvertencies 
 which the shrewdest thinker may at times lapse into 
 in sounding his difficult way through intricacies of 
 abstruse subject. As Mr Mill, however, has not only 
 reproduced the passage, but, by making a slight altera- 
 tion, has certified to us that his deliberate attention has 
 been given to it, he has formally erected a cross, on 
 which he now hangs a crucified impenitent, and from 
 
 1 On grounds not to be gainsaid. So, at least, it seems to myself. 
 For the reader, who may possibly adjudge otherwise, I quote the 
 passage in the Appendix. — See l^ote IV. 
 
1 1 6 Mr Mill, as effacing a Hostile Criticism. 
 
 which the good offices of all the kind critics in the 
 world will scarce avail to take him down. Originally, 
 the passage stood thus : ' If he really "could not help " 
 ' acting as he did ; that is, if his Will could not have 
 ' helped it.' This he now changes into ' that is — if it 
 did not depend on his will ; ' and this is, I suppose, 
 one of the passages alluded to in his Preface, in which 
 ' a slight modification in a sentence, or even in a phrase, 
 ' which a person acquainted with the former editions 
 ' might read without observing it, and of which, even 
 ' if he observed it, he would most likely not perceive 
 ' the purpose, has sometimes effaced many pages of 
 ' hostile criticism.' By changing the turn of his phrase 
 here, Mr Mill does succeed in evading the point of a 
 page or two of light banter, to which I presumed to 
 treat him, not perhaps in its flippancy of tone alto- 
 gether to be held becoming, any more than certain 
 occasional levities of the like kind which disfigure the 
 present performance. Does he thus evade the point of 
 the criticism — led up to by these little objectionable 
 gaieties — that by ivill here he must needs mean nothing 
 but that i^ree- will, ' in virtue of which only could a 
 man in any case " have he^oed " his act, as Mr Mill 
 here plainly implies that in most cases he could ' ? 
 Plainly, he does not in the least evade it, his passage 
 remaining as before, an implicit assertion of Freedom, 
 expressly in his doctrine denied. Further — ' if it did 
 ' not depend on his will ; if he was under the action 
 ' of such a violent motive that no fear of punishment 
 ' could have any effect, which, if capable of being as- 
 
Effacing a Hostile Criticism. 1 1 7 
 
 ' certained, is a just ground of exemption.' That in 
 every case in which the fear of punishment has no 
 effect, it couli, have had none, is, from the point 
 of view of the Causationist, so entirely ' capable of 
 being ascertained,' that any Causationist maintaining 
 it could have had, is self-constituted no Causationist, 
 but simply as to this matter, one of the bewildered 
 of the earth, who does not the least know what he is. 
 If the fear of punishment liad no effect, it is plain it 
 only could have had effect by being a stronger fear ; 
 and to suppose it so, is to suppose ' that change in 
 ' the antecedents, which Mr Mill himself has taught 
 ' us to exclude.' Consequently, in emry case in which 
 a deterring motive lias no effect ; that is, in every case 
 of crime supposable, there is 'just ground of exemp- 
 tion.' From tMs — in my former criticism pressed upon 
 Mr Mill, as logically involved in his deliverance here 
 — is there anything in his new turn of phrase devised 
 to • efface hostile criticism,' in the least to facilitate his 
 escape ? I cannot, for my own part, see it so. 
 
 Furthermore — ' if it did not depend on his will ; if 
 ' he was under the influence of such a violent motive, 
 ' that no fear of punishment could have any effect ; ' 
 that no counter-motive could avail against it ! In tliis, 
 Mr Mill may be held to have reached at last his ne 
 plus ultra of absurdity. It amounts to a distinct an- 
 nouncement, that no action in which a strong motive 
 overpowers a weaker one, ' depends on the will^ or is 
 voluntary; that no actions are, in point of fact, vol- 
 untary, except, perhaps, those which are mvoluntary. 
 
1 1 8 Bettei^ for Mr Mill to have admitted it. 
 
 Hideously disastrous for Mr Mill as his — ' If liis will 
 could not have helped it,' was shown to be, it did not, 
 on the face of it, involve him in anything so absolutely 
 dreadful as this ! Better for him to have frankly ac- 
 cepted and admitted my ' hostile criticism,' than thus 
 have sought to ' efface ' it by a ' modification of phrase,' 
 by which, from one depth of absurdity he is plunged 
 into yet a deeper one. 
 
Conscioicsness of Freedom. 119 
 
 SUPPLEMENTAEY. 
 
 Whatevee be the force of the argument, merely 
 logical, which, as proving the Causation of actions, is 
 held to invalidate human Freedom — and it seems to 
 me so altogether crusliing that I am surprised any crea- 
 ture with ' discourse of reason at all should seek for 
 an instant to evade it — it seems not the less likely that 
 whilst the world lasts, and humanity remains as it is, 
 said human Freedom will always have a good deal to 
 say for itself. Some thousand years or so hence, when 
 the John Stuart MUl of the period has triumphantly 
 demonstrated it ' a figment,' and declined to admit it 
 in consciousness, his critics wiU. probably be able to 
 prove to him from some passage inadvertently indi- 
 cative of his true feeling in the matter, that — figment 
 as he has cleverly shown it to be — he himself retains a 
 thorough belief in it. That doing so, he could yet have 
 helped doing so, or done otherwise, is, as we have seen, 
 Mr Mill's assured conviction ; and it is a conviction, I 
 believe, which he will be found to share with every 
 sane man, who, dismissing for the moment his theories. 
 
I20 Consciotisness of Freedom. 
 
 will candidly tell us how he truly feels in the matter. 
 If there be any man who feels otherwise, and is prac- 
 tically and clearly convinced he can in nothing luVp 
 doing as he does, be it for good or evil, I should at 
 least not advise him to allege his inability as an ex- 
 cuse before his fellow-men, of whatever may be amiss 
 in his conduct ; for it is certain it will not be listened 
 to, or admitted, except for a maniac. But in point of 
 fact, no man ever dreams of alleging in excuse of his 
 voluntary actions the plea of inability to 'help them, 
 which is admitted when the will is in abeyance to a 
 clearly made out compulsion. And if a belief or con- 
 viction of which we are thais unable to get rid, even 
 when we have reasoned it away, be not, on the expellas 
 furca recurret principle, to be accepted, as a genuine 
 belief naturas} or datum of human consciousness, I 
 know not where we should look for such. 
 
 There seemed always considerable force in Clarke's 
 way of putting it, that ' all our actions do now in ex- 
 ' perience seem to us to be free, exactly in the same 
 ' manner, as they would do, upon supposition of our 
 ' being really Free Agents,' — that in fact— freedom as- 
 sumed — the evidence of consciousness in its favour. 
 
 1 Our belief in the external world, it may be urged, is precisely in 
 the same sense, a Natural belief ; we cannot get rid of it, even when 
 we have reasoned it away. Yet Mr Mill not only regards it as illu- 
 sory, hut is ready with his 'Psychological Theory,' which constructs 
 the Illusion as such, out of primary elements of experience. And if 
 out of elements of experience he can similarly educe the idea of Free- 
 dom, it is admitted he will do something to discredit it as an article 
 of Natural Belief. Of this hereafter (see p. 124-128). 
 
Consciottsness of Freedom. 1 2 1 
 
 could by no possibility have been stronger than it now 
 is, in the very minds — as instance that of Mr Mill — 
 by which it is most strenuously denied. He very well 
 goes on to say that ' this does not indeed amount to a 
 ' strict Demonstration of our being free ; ' and if he 
 had said it did not amount to anj"- demonstration at all, 
 strict or unstrict, perhaps his own strictness would 
 have been greater. What follows is in some sense re- 
 markable enough— seeing how perseveringly the plea 
 put forth in it, as fundamental to his whole Philosophy, 
 was afterwards urged by Hamilton — to deserve quota- 
 tion in an argument originating in Mr Mill's consider- 
 ation of his claims. It is not, he admits, a Demon- 
 stration ; ' yet it leaves on the other side of the ques- 
 ' tion nothing but a bare Possibility of our heing so 
 ' framed hy the author of Nature, as to he ^unavoidably 
 ' deceived in this matter hy every Experience of every 
 ' action we perform.' There is nothing, however, here 
 to which a determined and thorough-going antagonist 
 needs find any difficulty in replying. The bare possi- 
 bility by Clarke admitted, is strictly all that is needed 
 by the sceptic, as ground of bis negative reasonings ; 
 and to what Mr Mill caUs Hamilton's ' tiresome plea ' 
 here anticipated by Clarke^ — ' is then the root of our 
 Nature a lie? the Deity therein a deceiver?' — he may 
 answer, with entire composure, that perhaps it is really 
 so; that he sees no very good reason, why not, and 
 win be glad if from his own clear personal knowledge 
 
 1 And Clarke, in his turn, is somewhere anticipated by Descartes 
 unless my memory deceives me. 
 
122 Consciousness of Freedom. 
 
 of the Deity, his opponent will be good enough to 
 furnish him with one. To a gentleman prepared, as he 
 ought to be, from his point of view of the Sceptic, to 
 quite coolly go this length, it will not be easy to reply.^ 
 He is perfectly willing to admit Freedom as given in 
 consciousness ; but denies that its being so given is 
 any guarantee of its reality. And if nowhere else he 
 asserts such a guarantee ; and not in the least stag- 
 gered at being told that Science itself is thus reduced 
 to incertitude, announces that for aught we can ever 
 know, the whole world and life of man is simply a 
 ' shadow- system ' of cunningly- devised illusions, his 
 position seems pretty impregnable. 
 
 Mr Mill, however, does not go quite this length, 
 admitting throughout in consciousness, supposed 
 genuine, a basis of reality and certitude. And it 
 is alleged that for the fact of Freedom, — admitted 
 on the ground of logic inexplicable — we have, this 
 indefeasible guarantee of consciottsness. This Mr 
 Mill, it is plain, in the most resolute manner would 
 deny, even whilst admitting — as in fact, when the 
 
 ^ In order to get at the Deity by way of proof or otherwise, the 
 veracity of Consciousness and Keason must be assumed. How then 
 can we legitimately make use of the Deity to prove the veracity of 
 Consciousness? F"iiZc Mr Mill (p. 161-163). Tirfe, as to this, Hume — 
 " Essay on the Academical or Sceptical Philosophy : " " To have re- 
 course to the Supreme Being, in order to prove the veracity of our 
 senses, is surely making a very unexpected circuit. If His veracity 
 were at all concerned in this matter, our senses would be entirely in- 
 fallible, because it is not possible He can ever deceive. Not to men- 
 tion, that, if the external world be once called in question, we shall 
 be at a loss to find arguments by which we may prove the existence 
 of that Being, or any of His attributes." 
 
Cojtsciousness Developed and Primitive. 123 
 
 thing is pressed upon him (as at p. 35), he cannot 
 possibly help doing — that of Freedom, he has, like 
 Hodge and others, a practical feeling or conviction. 
 I am ' convinced ' — he would say — or ' aware — I will 
 not say conscious' (see ante, p. 33), having, it seems, a 
 faculty peculiar to himself, of being most sharply 
 convinced, and aware of things, yet all the while pro- 
 foundly unconscious of them. In effect, he would be 
 sure to say that, admitting Freedom — as he must and 
 does — in what I may call developed consciousness, that 
 ' familiar and intimate knowledge ^ concerning our- 
 ' selves which there is no appropriate scientific name 
 'for' (p. 566, 3d ed.), he denies it in the prifnitive 
 consciousness, to which only he attributes scientific 
 validity. But, this position assumed, Mr Mill is 
 bound to exhibit the process, whereby, no germ of it 
 being given in primitive consciousness, the feeling of 
 Freedom becomes ' developed,' as we afterwards , find 
 it in the mature consciousness which, in order to meet 
 Mr Mill, I am willing to call ' conviction.' And, in 
 any attempt to exhibit this process, Mr Mill's failure 
 would almost certainly be signal. Mr Mill's grand 
 test of a datum of primitive consciousness — for him 
 an extremely convenient one — is, that it should be 
 shown to be present in the mind of an infant at the 
 instant of birth. No more than of anything else, can 
 
 ^ If we are to be very strict with Mr Mill, it may be noted that in 
 using the word knowledge here he really gives up his case ; knowledge 
 — in so far as it really is so — involving the reality of the thing 
 known ; whilst from belief, on the other hand, there is no inference 
 whatever of the reality of the thing believed. 
 
124 Pti'Tsuit of Knowledge 2inder Difficulties. 
 
 this be demoustrated of Freedom.^ And in fact, I 
 have elsewhere noted it of children, as 'not a little 
 ' curious that the earliest utterances of these small 
 ' philosophers are in favour of Mr Mill's doctrine of 
 ' Necessity.' In the fact familiar to every one in the 
 least familiar with children, that constantly — and 
 
 ^ And supposing it cmild be demonstrated — a miraculous babe being 
 got whose consciousness, at the instant of birth, was found, on its 
 being catechised, to include Freedom, or anything else obnoxious to 
 Mr Mill's theories ? We should just be where we were. Mr Mill is 
 too clever a general, in taking up a position, not to carefully secure his 
 line of retreat. Does any one doubt that in such a case as that sup- 
 posed, Mr Mill would for an instant hesitate to remand us to the 
 mother's womb, and to some supposed round of ante-iudal experiences, 
 which, with a little help from Association and so on, would perfectly 
 well serve his turn ? Of course we could not foUow Mr Mill there !' 
 Psychology, as conceived by Mr Mill, is certainly a pursuit of Know- 
 ledge under difiBculties. This seems but idle fleering, and yet is not 
 wholly so. The child before birth would be quite as legitimate an ally 
 in argument for Mr Mill, as the child at the instant of it ; and not 
 any whit more ludicrous. In all this of Mr Mill about the con- 
 sciousness of an infant at the instant of birth, if we could get at it, 
 being decisive, &apure, in distinction from subsequent consciousness 
 which includes elements of experience, there seems nothing but mis- 
 conception. Mr Mill, as we shall see (p. 154), does not seem to be 
 aware of a fact so simple as this, that Consciousness and Experience 
 are, in point of fact, convertible terms. Experience being only pos- 
 sible through Consciousness, and the first fact of Consciousness being 
 also the first of Experience. He seems also at times to forget, what 
 of course he must very well know, that in order to Experience there 
 must first be a creature to have it, by whose outfit of connate 
 capacities, as in ordered sequence developed, the character and con- 
 tent of the Experience are rigorously throughout determined. Not 
 unfrequently, as the vowed Apostle of Experience, the divine Ori- 
 ginal of everything, Mr Mill almost seems to write, as if given the 
 Experience called Vision, he could create from it the seeing Eye. 
 But surely to begin with the Eye and thence proceed to the Vision 
 seems much the more natural order. 
 
Mr Mill's Experience Argument. 125 
 
 this ia obvious passionate hona fides — for acts whicli 
 are plainly voluntary, they will allege in excuse the 
 ' I could not help it/ which in later life nobody would 
 dream of alleging unless wishing to be held a maniac, 
 I have said that 'the force and obviousness of the 
 ' argument, "derived from the experienced sequences 
 ' of impulse and act, receives perhaps the strongest 
 ' illustration of which it seems capable.' The ques- 
 tion before Mr Mill is this — how comes it that the 
 child, at this stage an orthodox Causationist Philo- 
 sopher — rather more so than we have seen Mr Mill 
 himself — is afterwards debauched into the heresy of 
 believing itself /ree, and able to Ae/p i^^ actions ? It 
 does not seem much to attest the conclusiveness of 
 Mr Mill's 'Experience argument,' — the total facts 
 being taken — that satisfying the infant in coats, it is 
 despised and rejected by the boy who has intelligently 
 progressed into knickerbockers. Wlience this dissat- 
 isfaction of the boy with the wisdom of Mr Mill, 
 which perfectly sufficed him as an infant ? Mr Mill 
 is desired to deduce it for us, and one is curious as 
 to how he will proceed. If he succeeds in dediicing it 
 at all, it must be from some new fount of illumination, 
 for it is certain it cannot come from the old one. 
 The ' Experience ' which suggested to the babe that — 
 in its poor little trembling phrase — it ' could not help 
 it,' can scarcely, by dint of being constantly repeated, 
 suggest to the boy that he could. Mr Mill, who makes 
 elsewhere so much use of the implement of ' Experience 
 and inseparable Association,' is invited to employ it 
 
126 Mr Mill's Experience Argument. 
 
 lien. Doing so, he will inevitably be forced to admit, 
 that — Experience thus early suggesting Necessity,^ — as 
 cumulative in what he calls the ' collective experience 
 of life,' it must needs have so deepened this suggestion, 
 ' as streams their channels deeper wear,' as utterly to 
 preclude the emergence at an after period of a feeling 
 of Freedom opposed to it. The feeling of Freedom, 
 therefore, which Mr Mill would fain deny, but cannot, 
 is thus shown to emerge, despite, of that law of ' Expe- 
 rience and inseparable Association' which Mr Mill 
 holds to be the most energetic factor of belief How, 
 on these terms, it could ever succeed in emerging, ex- 
 cept as what Mr Mill denies it to be, e«^ra-experiential 
 and in the true sense — as distinct from his palpably 
 absurd one — a primitive datum of consciousness, Mr 
 Mill is requested to explain. And the explanation, in 
 order to be reasonably satisfactory to Mr MUl himself, 
 must be clear and cogent indeed, seeing it has the 
 whole weight of his own favourite law to contend 
 against. 
 
 The only explanation I can conceive tendered is that 
 developed at page 24 from Hume's bint, that ' the Will 
 ' moves easily every way, and produces an image of 
 ' itself (or a Velleity, as it is called in the schools) even 
 
 1 Tlioiigh this sense of Necessity in the child, as expressed in its 
 ' could not help it,' seems sufficiently curious to be noted, it is not of 
 course in the least essential to the argument here. Apart from all 
 question of the child, the question for Mr Mill remains, Whence this 
 feeling of Freedom, of a power in us to lidii our actions, the ' collec- 
 tive experience of life,' from its first to its last hour, giving, as Mr 
 Mill expressly asserts, evidence dead the other way ? 
 
Genesis of Freedom in Consciotcsness. 127 
 
 ' on that side on whicli it did not settle.' But though 
 not without a certain superficial plausibility, I scarcely 
 think it approves itself on anything like a close exami- 
 nation. In the fact that the WiU, in its moving hither 
 and thither, in the process of deliberation, produces in 
 its every movement ' an image of itself, or Velleity,' 
 nothing is really explained, unless the necessity be also 
 explained under which we are unavoidably led to 
 potentiate the image, so to speak, and attribute to the 
 so-called Velleity a vital reality as will ; nor, unless 
 this necessity — universal as we find its operation — be 
 admitted a fundamental necessity of human reason, 
 would it the least avail for Mr Mill's purpose. Were it 
 anything short of this, Mr MlU's law of ' Experience 
 and inseparable Association' would inevitably, with 
 much ease, dispose of it. If Mr Mill declines to admit 
 this, he lies open to some suspicion of being willing, 
 for the purpose of his argument, to make little here of 
 the law, of which elseivhere he makes so much ; de- 
 grading from its place of potency, as it suits him, an 
 agency which it suited him before, and presently will 
 suit him again, to regard as wellnigh omnipotent. The 
 mental law, therefore, by which unavoidably we attri- 
 bute to the so-called VeUeity the vital power of the 
 will, is shown — as against Mr Mill — to be a funda- 
 mental necessity or law of reason ; and it is submitted 
 that, as such, it is vain to seek to invalidate it by 
 reason, in any of its subsequent operations, of what 
 logical rigour soever ; and that the fact is really so, 
 will, I trust, appear as we proceed. The result of the 
 
128 Genesis of Freedom. 
 
 whole is, that meantime — and pending such other ex- 
 planation or genesis'^ of the feeling as Mr Mill may have 
 to offer — he seems bound to admit in Preedom a 
 genuine fact of human Consciousness, which amounts 
 to his acceptance of it in lelief. And this further 
 result seems reached, that the only tenable attitude 
 possible to any one denying Freedom, is that of the 
 thorough-going sceptical gentleman before glanced at, 
 who, denying the authority of consciousness, does not 
 very confidently assert anything, but enthrones on the 
 ruins of all Eeality the spectre of universal Illusion. 
 To this gentleman, it is admitted, no distinct reply is 
 to be offered.^ 
 
 Eestricting the view a little, it seems certain that 
 whatever else on the denial of Freedom may lapse into 
 the category of Illusion, Moral distinctions must, and 
 the Moral Eesponsibility of man. Not only on such a 
 
 [1 The challenge here thrown out to Mr Mill, lias since been ac- 
 cepted by Mr Sully in the Essay to which I have already made ref- 
 erence in Appendix, Note I. (not of course that I think it likely Mr 
 Sully ever read a word I have written). A few very brief remarks on 
 his Paper, considered in this regard, as before 1 remarked on it in 
 another, I include in Appendix, Note V.] 
 
 ^ Eeally none that I know of, except Hamilton's, neatly enough 
 summed by Mr Mill in saying that the Sceptic of this kind, ' in deny- 
 ing all knowledge denies none. ' To which probably the Sceptic would 
 reply that he denies none ; that asserting nothing, he is not so incon- 
 sequent as to deny, denial being itself a mode of assertion. He simply 
 doubts all. This, as Hamilton says, is to doubt that he doubts. 
 Vide Don Jvan : — 
 
 ' So little do we know what we're about in 
 This world, I doubt, if doubt itself be doubting.' 
 
 By this doubt he is remanded to knowledge, whence he instantly 
 proceeds to resolve himself into doubt again — and so on. 
 
Thorough. 129 
 
 view are they sceptically dissolved, as unable to show 
 rational basis for themselves, but the argument against 
 them is good to ground their dogmatic negation. 
 Every attempt hitherto — as vide Hume's (Appendix), 
 and now that of Mr Mill — to harmonise with the scheme 
 of unconditional Causation or Necessity, the moral 
 nature of man, in virtue of which we hold him culpable 
 in his evil actions (cxilpable as distinct from merely 
 punisJiable), has resulted in helpless failure. But here, 
 once more, if a man is quite thorough-going in his 
 reasoning ; and while denying neither Freedom, nor 
 Morality, as facts of universal human Consciousness, 
 develops the argument from Causation which seems to 
 shatter the one, boldly presses it to its speculative re- 
 sult in the virtual extinction of the other, and declines to 
 sacrifice these clear deductions of his Eeason to what 
 he can only regard as mere blind irrational beliefs, 
 of which — except indeed as they are ' natural ' — no 
 account is to be given, I see not how he is to be 
 answered, save only by answering his reasonings, which 
 no one will ever be able to do. A Belief, were it thrice 
 over ' Natural,' proves nothing beyond itself as a fact of 
 Nature or life ; it can never in the least avouch to us 
 the reality of the thing believed ; and surely beliefs — 
 it may be urged — how sacred and important soever, 
 are to be held somewhat in evil case, when, as here, 
 we can only continue to cling to them in express defi- 
 ance of Eeason. Such beliefs, if ' natural,' as they are 
 said to'be, may always, on that ground, be trusted to 
 maintain their practical efficiency ; but, not the less, 
 I 
 
1 30 Tkorotcgk. 
 
 are speculatively to be rejected as absurd. And it is 
 really, after all, no answer to this scepticism, to allege 
 that it carries in it a germ of the further scepticism 
 which assails the very bases of human knowledge. 
 This may or may not be— the Sceptic may reasonably 
 answer — meantime, be good enough to deal with my 
 argument on its own ground ; if any flaws exist in it, 
 I suppose them capable of being exhibited ; failing to 
 exhibit any such, you are bound to admit my conclu- 
 sions. And thus far and provisionally, I must admit 
 myself at one with the Sceptic.^ But should it be found 
 that all the while, the Eeason, in which — within the 
 limits by reason itself prescribed — he surely does well 
 to trust, is being exercised beyond these limits, and 
 in a region in which its impotence is self-confessed, 
 in that case it seems open to us to admit the whole 
 force of his argument, and yet demur to his conclusion. 
 And precisely thus it will be found. 
 
 ^ Though hitherto representing the supposed Necessitarian as 
 accepting tlie position of extreme scepticism, on which, in virtue of 
 his denial as truth, of an admitted datum of consciousness, it is the 
 aim of the dogmatist to thrust him, I do not in the least see that in 
 strictness he is hound to accept it. There is consciousness — he might 
 say — and consciousness ; I call in question no data of consciousness 
 save such as I have shown to contradict the scientific Reason. My 
 argument to that effect is before you ; if you cannot aiiswer, in vain 
 do you seek to evade it, by telling me I ought not, as denying the 
 authority of consciousness, to be certain even of such a thing as that 
 two and two make four. Produce, in your turn, the series of accurate 
 reasonings by which that proposition is invalidated ; having done so, 
 and found that I, in my turn, am unable to furnish you with an 
 answer to them , you will then, I admit, be entitled, from my^uestion- 
 ing the authority of consciousness in certain of its data, to press me to 
 question its authority in all. But not, as I think, till then. 
 
Freedom in a bad way. 131 
 
 The attempt to explain Freedom ; to include it in 
 the forms of the human understanding hy effecting 
 its logical reconcilement with the law of Universal 
 Causation, is now, I should imagine, pretty well aban- 
 doned as hopeless. Again, to deny the Universality 
 of the Law, by excluding from it human actions, in 
 order to maintain their freedom, is somewhat too des- 
 perate an expedient, and amounts to intellectual 
 suicide. A tenet which can only be defended by 
 announcing a proposition so plainly absurd as this — 
 that when a man eats, it is not because he is hungry 
 or for any other reason known to him — had best at 
 once be given up. The argument in terro7'em — so to 
 call it — from moral results of doctrine, is scarcely 
 entitled to the name ; and in any case can always 
 be disposed of by coolly accepting the results, and re- 
 questing the opponent to disprove the reasonings by 
 which they are reached. The evidence of Conscious- 
 ness is precarious — it may be said — and ought not to 
 be received, when it can be shown to contradict any 
 clear deduction of reason. With the retort upon the 
 sceptic that hej-e rejecting the evidence of conscious- 
 ness, he must also reject it elseivhere, and announce 
 the reductio ad ahsurdum of doubt, which confounds 
 all knowledge whatever, he may — as we have seen — 
 very well decline to concern himself, till such time as 
 a reasoned argument is set before him to the effect 
 that two and two can by no possibility make four — 
 an argument equal in force to his own which demon- 
 strates the inconsequence of the belief in Freedom. 
 
132 Something, however, to be said for it. 
 
 And as this is not likely soon to be done, it might 
 almost seem that Freedom, as an article of belief, is 
 a little in a bad way. And so indeed, it must be, 
 so long as the argument is pursued on the mere ground 
 of the logical understanding. But if reason good can 
 be shown for discrediting the competence of the logical 
 understanding to treat authoritatively of such a subject, 
 in its very nature seen to transcend logic, as soaring 
 or sinking into the region of aboriginal mystery, the 
 ' final inexplicability, at which, as Sir W. Hamilton 
 ' observes, we inevitably arrive when we reach ultimate 
 ' facts ' {Mill, p. 242), the aspect of the case seems 
 altered a little ; and we may find ourselves in a position 
 to reassert the integrity of consciousness, vindicate 
 Freedom as given in it, along with Moral Responsi- 
 bility ; and even, if the logical argument against these 
 be still dogmatically pressed, to retort with effect on 
 the opponent the charge of being wildly illogical, so 
 confidently hurled at all believers in at least the 
 -article of Freedom.^ 
 
 In identifying the Will with the human personality 
 
 1 The stricter kind of reader may be apt to suspect confusion at 
 some points of the above, as in fact to some trivial extent there is 
 perhaps. It seems admitted, in parts, that the belief in Freedom is 
 held ' in defiance of Reason,' and though ' contradicted ' by it. This 
 is only, however, meant to be provisionally admitted, from the point 
 of view of the opponent. It will be seen that there is no contradic- 
 tion ; that the only Reason defied and contradicted is Reason falsely 
 so called— a Logic at once narrow and arrogant, which constitutes 
 itself the measure of Possibility, and dogmatically implies the pro- 
 position, that whatever is by its processes inex]pUcahU, is therein 
 branded as needs untrue and absurd. 
 
Will and Personality identical. 133 
 
 — and this we must either decisively do, or exclude the 
 term from the discussion, on pain of rushing into 
 such dreadful confusions as those we have had occa- 
 sion to note in Mr Mill — we seem to carry the subject 
 into a region of thought, in which the mere Logician 
 is as helplessly baffled as a bird would be, let loose 
 in an impalpable ether. 
 
 ' Waving Ms pennons vain, plump down he drops.' 
 
 Is the Will of man free? is Man a free agent? 
 These are identical phrases ; and the Will can plainly 
 be nothing but a synonym of the Ego, or veritable 
 •persona of the man, as operative in his conscious act. 
 Is the fact of Personality denied ? this is the merest 
 extravagance and deliration of scepticism : is it sought 
 to be logically explained .? this is the absurdest, insane 
 pretension of reason, so called, • logical. In the Ego 
 we are face to face with a mystery, ever the more felt 
 to be inscrutable, the more profound is the effort of 
 abstraction, by which we strive to compass apprehen- 
 sion of it. Probably to only a few, and not even to 
 these, save in rare and favoured moments of vision, is 
 it given to look to any depth into the abyss of wonder 
 and awe, which here for the most part lies veiled from 
 us — so best perhaps — by what Professor Eerrier calls 
 ' the law of familiarity.' Mr Carlyle has said of Music, 
 that it ' is a kind of inarticulate unfathomable speech, 
 ' which leads us to the edge of the Infinite., and lets us 
 ' for moments gaze into that.' ^ Foolishness as it must 
 
 ^ Carlyle. — Hero- Worship ; Tho Poet as Hero. 
 
134 The Will, as one with it, a Mystery. 
 
 needs be to a certain class of readers, this seems to 
 express with as much precision as may be, what one is 
 here ineffectually aiming at. To say that the questions 
 of the Divine and the Human Personality are properly 
 but forms of the same question, would be somewhat 
 a bold statement ; yet the one is, in truth, no more 
 incompreh&nsihle than the other ; nor will any merely 
 speculative difficulty which besets the mystery of a 
 Being, infinite, and yet as personal, only to be con- 
 ceived of under some form of human limitation, ever, I 
 believe, be matter of grave perplexity to any one who 
 in the least adequately appreciates the depth of that 
 other mystery with which, on the finite ground, he is 
 every instant in contact. The human personality 
 accepted, we must accept as utterly 'inexplicable;' 
 ' Believe it ^ thou must ; widerstancl it thou canst not,' 
 remains for ever the formula under which we must 
 dispose of the Ego. And if what we calj the Will — as 
 it can be no otherwise — be simply the Ego, as it flashes 
 into conscious act, plainly, in virtue of this formula, 
 the topic of Freedom is one not to be dogmatically 
 dealt with under the forms of the understanding. The 
 Ego admitted utterly mysterious and inscrutable, the 
 property of Freedom attributed to it can scarce, in the 
 eye of Eeason, be held discredited, merely as also 
 mysterious. That in Locke's phrase, we ' see not the 
 ' Way of it,' seems no insuperable objection, when it is 
 shown that in the very nature of the case, it is plainly 
 impossible we should. What sort of frantic Logic is it 
 
 1 Sartor Bssartus. 
 
Groimds for Assertion of Freedom. 135 
 
 wLicTi, admitting a mystery, insists that it shall not be 
 mysterious ; accepts as a postulate the inexplicable ; 
 proceeds to lay down the law to it ; and brands as 
 wildly irrational so modest a caveat as this, that the 
 inexplicable cannot be explained, yet is not therefore 
 to be ,held incredible ? 
 
 ■It is granted that were the Ego thrice over myste- 
 rious, unless on good ground shown, it is incompetent to 
 assign to it any special mysterious attribute. But the 
 grounds on which we assert for it the attribute of 
 Freedom are such as, if candidly weighed, it will not 
 be easy to gainsay. In the testimony of Consciousness, 
 or — if Mr Mill prefers it — universal, indefeasible con- 
 viction, we have really, as Clarke weU puts the matter, 
 all the proof of it we can conceive possible, the truth 
 of the thing being assumed — a proof indeed undemon- 
 strative, but not therefore to be set aside, demonstrative 
 proof being by the very nature of the case excluded. 
 Further, apart from a belief in Freedom — not as exclud- 
 ing Causation, but as somehow — -though how we know 
 not — coexisting with it in human action on terms of 
 reciprocal limitation ^ — we cannot on rational grounds 
 
 1 Vide Mill and Garlyle, p. 111. "Moreover, to say that K'ecessity 
 (Causation), as detennining human action, cannot be harmonised in 
 belief with Free-will, as in some sense and measure * se^-determining 
 it, is really no more than to say that Free-will is a mystery, as which 
 it is expressly announced. 
 
 * In some sense and measure. If we conceive of Freedom and Necessity as 
 mysteriously coexisting in the voluntary acts of rational creatures, it is plain 
 we can only so conceive of them in degrees and variable proportions. It would 
 l>e too palpable an outrage of reason to say that a man driven by a strong motive 
 is in his act as free as he who is the subject of a weaker one. On the other hand, 
 
1 36 Something to be said on both Sides. 
 
 continue to attribute validity to our moral Nature. So 
 complete is the havoc, in this sphere involved in denial 
 of it, that, as we have seen, moral distinction is not 
 any longer to be substantiated between a sane man and 
 a maniac.^ Quite possibly, there is no such distinc- 
 tion; all such distinctions ??2 a?/ be illusory; and what 
 we call Conscience merely an idiot hallucination. But 
 this is an extreme view ; — and the balance of proba- 
 bility seems to incline the other way ; it does really 
 seem to be probable that sane men are not maniacs. 
 We have thus, in favour of human Freedom — though 
 still nothing to be called a demonstration — a distinct 
 additional probability ; and these two items of probable 
 proof — the only kind of proof which the nature of the 
 
 ^ The physical distinction is of conrse clear ; the intellectual dis- 
 tinction also might readily enough be indicated in the different rela- 
 tions to motive — what is the moral distinction between a sane man and 
 a maniac ? I can imagine none save that stated, as we have seen, by 
 Mr Mill, of control over action in the one, and want of this power of 
 control in the other. And once for all, the power to control or help 
 our actions is — Freedom. Failing of this, all moral distinction is 
 obliterated between sane and insane action. — ( Vide p. 108.) 
 
 to say that a starving wretch is no more necessitated to eat than a man who sits 
 down to supper after dining heartily an hour or two before, is the same tiling 
 stated from the other side. That he is no more necessitated, speculatively, we 
 must assert ; for, as we have abundantly seen, it is the clearest deduction from 
 the law of Causation, as applied to them, that, in relation to acts induced, the 
 most absolutely tyrannous motive is precisely as the most absolutely tri\ial one, 
 each being the sufficient determining cause of an effect inevitable as determined. 
 But, practically, it is on all hands recognised that a strong motive necessitates, 
 and thus excuses action, as a weaker one does not. Wc must thus conceive Neces- 
 sity and Freedom to co-inhere in human action, as variable quantities reciprocally 
 limiting each other; so that, whilst every action is in some strict sense necessi- 
 tated, it is still in some such sense free, as permits us to ascribe to it a moral 
 quality. This is, of course, to logic absurd ; but, as a rough-working conception 
 ot a. mystery beyond logic, the trustful acceptance of which is indispensable to 
 a rational belief at once in the results of science and the validity of our moral 
 nature, perhaps it may pass for the nonce." 
 
Something to be said on both Sides. 137 
 
 case admits of — seem suflScient to lalance the stringent 
 logical demonstration on the other side, which includes 
 the human volition with all else, under the one grand 
 law of Causation. Each line of proof seems, on its 
 own ground, good ; each seems convicted of impotence, 
 invading the territory of the other. The proof which 
 for Freedom may be held appropriate and sufficient, is 
 naught as against Causation, and might with quite 
 as good effect be employed to subvert a proposition 
 of Euclid ; the Logic which approves Causation, 
 pressing on to a denial of Freedom, vainly seeks to 
 soar into the heaven of pure ether, unpermitted to 
 its presumptuous wing. Had, indeed, the logical 
 demonstration succeeded in exhibiting Freedom as 
 an express contradictory of Causation, the case would 
 have been somewhat different ; we should then have 
 had to choose between one or other of the beliefs ; to 
 constitute ourselves on the one hand, intellectually 
 felo de se, as denying the causation of human actions, 
 or, on the other, in the denial of Freedom, maniacs, 
 no longer amenable to moral law. But it is not, I 
 suppose, pretended, — or if so, it is merely pretended — 
 that Freedom has thus been shown to be incredible, 
 as contradictory of a truth of Science ; that it is not 
 itself a demonstrable truth of Science is all that will 
 ever be shown ; and nobody now asserts it such. That 
 actions are caused, yet free ! in this there is no contra- 
 diction ; ^ the causation is admitted proved ; the free- 
 
 1 That actions are caused yet uncaused, determined yet xindeter- 
 mined — in this there is contradiction ; that actions are determined 
 
1 38 Both to be believed. 
 
 dom admitted not proved — this is really all. If the 
 Causationist, having proved his side of the case, 
 asks with clamorous triumph — liow free ? he is quietly 
 answered by Tennyson,^ ' we know not how ;' by Locke, 
 that he ' sees not the way of it ; ' and may further, if 
 need be, be answered that ' the way of it ' is probably 
 one of the things which the angels desire to look into 
 and cannot. No one who understands but a little of the 
 subject would in the least be surprised to know that 
 at this very instant of time, the ' way of it,' supposing 
 it a truth, is a puzzle to the Angel Gabriel. Why then, 
 if attested to as by the evidence which seems appro- 
 priate — in point of fact the only evidence which the 
 nature of the case admits of — should it be held intel- 
 lectual sin in us, to profess a belief in Freedom ? Above 
 all, why should Mr MiU. hold it a sin in us, himself all 
 the while believing it, though shy of professing his 
 belief ? His invaluable ' Doctrine of Causation ' being 
 left to him as good as intact — the trivial inroad upon it 
 being that what was before ' unconditional Causation ' 
 is now in the volitional sphere mysteriously conditioned, 
 or limited by Freedom, with no serious harm to it as 
 Causation — why should 'not Mr Mill accept the con- 
 yet self-determined — that man in his actions, is determined, ab extra, 
 or in effect, by causes, the iron series of which stretches back into the 
 past infinite, and yet in some sense and measure ah intra, by himself, 
 O'c freely — in this no one can allege contradiction, however impossible 
 it may he to explain the co-inherence in human action of the two 
 factors, and the terms of their reciprocal limitation. 
 1 " Our wills are ours, we know not how ; 
 Our wills are ours, to make them thine. " 
 
 — In Memoriam. 
 
Mr Mill had quite as well believe both. 1 39 
 
 ciliatory wisdom of Hamilton, and taking Freedom with 
 Necessity (Causation), 'believe both and both in unison,' 
 even though ' this conciliation is of the things to be 
 believed, not understood,' seeing that only thus can we 
 compose the internecine strife indicated as otherwise 
 inevitable between the intellectual and the moral con- 
 stituents of our Nature ? Except that he did not seem 
 quite to catch Hamilton's wisdom, thinking plainly that 
 in ' conciliating ' two ' opposite philosophical opinions ' 
 Sir William intended to deny one of them, there seems 
 really no reason why Mr Mill should not have accepted 
 it. 'That propositions which, as our intelligence is 
 ' now constituted, obstinately remain irreconcilable, 
 ' may yet somehow, beyond the sphere of that in- 
 ' telligence, admit of being reconciled, seems no such 
 ' extravagant proposition.' ^ I have read Mr Mill to 
 little purpose, if, considered as a simple proposition, — 
 apart from the special application of it — he would 
 scout it as the least extravagant. At page 150, we find 
 him censure an adversary for ' confounding two different 
 ' things — the belief in contradictories, and the recogni- 
 ' tion of positive truths which merely limit one another, 
 ' but to what extent or at what points, we cannot yet 
 ' determine.' Is perhaps Mr Mill himself, in regard of 
 Causation, as related to human Freedom, involved in 
 this very confusion ? 
 
 The line of reasoning here indicated, which seeks to 
 rescue Freedom from the logical ban pronounced on it 
 ' Mill and Carlyle, p. 111. 
 
140 Will and Personality. 
 
 as inexplicable, by the identification of the Will with 
 the mystery of the human personality, of which Logic 
 is utterly incompetent to treat, is of course only avail- 
 able, so long as this incompetence is admitted.^ And 
 it is not by all thinkers admitted ; for whilst nobody 
 recognising the reality of the Ego, has ever pretended 
 to ' explain ' it, as comprehensible on grounds of reason, 
 hardy speculators have now and then appeared, who 
 considered that the Ego, which reason could not explain, 
 it might competently decline to accredit, as yielding to 
 the sceptical analysis. With some glance at this ex- 
 treme position, I may fitly conclude the discussion. 
 
 The great name of Hume, who accepting the reason- 
 ing of Berkeley which attacked the reality of Matter, 
 proceeded to apply it to the Mind, evaporated as also 
 an illusion, is of course, above all others, associated 
 
 ^ It was, if I mistake not, Coleridge, who first among us decisively 
 took this ground, and remanded the discussion to a sphere, in which 
 it might safely contemn the tyranny of the logical understanding. 
 There, as elsewhere, however, his reader is more or less bored by his 
 famous distinction between the Reason and the Understanding, which 
 never, at least in his hands, — whatever in those of Kant it may haVe 
 done, — seemed to attain anything like scientific precision. Since 
 Coleridge, it is to Professor Ferrier that the reader may be best re- 
 ferred for light upon this topic. In his Institutes of Metapliysic, it is 
 only casually glanced at ; but his early work. An Introduction to the 
 Philosophy of Consciousness, abounds with pregnant suggestion upon 
 it. This performance he was wont in his later time to pooh-pooh a 
 little, saying, as I have heard him do when asked why he had not 
 thought of reprinting it from BlacJcwood, that he had once or twice 
 thought of it, but could never quite convince himself it was altogether 
 worth the pains. It would have been pity if in editing his Philoso- 
 phical Remains his literary executors had not decided the matter 
 differently. 
 
Hume no Nihilist. 141 
 
 with this extreme of speculation. It is, however, in 
 some distinct sense, unjustly so. I have said that such 
 a view is the mere extravagance and deliration of 
 Scepticism ; and there is evidence that by Hume him- 
 self it had come to be so considered. In his early 
 work it is — ' A Treatise of Human Nature ' — that this 
 wild; speculation is developed. The material of this 
 book, — ' which the author had projected before he left 
 ' College, and which he wrote and published not long 
 ' aftet,' — in later life, he ' cast anew ' in his Essays, 
 complaining of opponents, who 'have taken care to 
 ' direct all their battering against that juvenile work 
 ' which the author never acknowledged,' and desiring 
 that 'henceforth the following Pieces may alone 
 ' be regarded as containing his philosophical senti- 
 ' ments and principles.' And in these Pieces, which 
 contain the final and only authoritative digest of 
 Hume's views, no trace did he permit to remain of 
 that crude boyish speculation. From the JSTihihsm, 
 as it is termed, which in his youth he announced, 
 Hume must thus, in his maturity, be held to have 
 implicitly retired, as seeing that a scepticism so ex- 
 treme was discredited even as a sport of dialectic — 
 in which light not a little of what he retained may 
 with much plausibility be regarded. And a scepti- 
 cism by Hume discarded as untenable, subsequent 
 thinkers need scarcely have tried to reinstate. The 
 attempt has, however, been made ; and among eminent 
 writers now living, Professor Bain and Mr Mill are to 
 be noted, as not indisposed to assume the cast clothes 
 
142 Cast Clothes of Hume 
 
 of Hume here. In his interesting discussion of the 
 question of 'Liberty and Necessity' (vide The Emo- 
 tions and the Will, p. 539-567) — a discussion in 
 much to be taken objection to, but nowhere at least 
 involved in the confusions which are rather, in Mr^ 
 Mill's case, to be held the rule than the exception — 
 we find Professor Bain thus writing — ' " Self-deter- 
 '"mination" assumes something more than spon- 
 ' taneity, having a lurking reference to some power 
 ' behind the scenes, that cannot be stated under the 
 form of a specific motive or end. ... If self-deter- 
 ' mination is held to imply something different from 
 ' the operation of the motive forces of pleasurable 
 ' and painful sensibility, coupled with the central 
 ' spontaneity of the system, there is an imputation on 
 ' the sufficiency of the common analysis of the mind. 
 ' Emotion, Volition, and Intellect, as explained with 
 ' full detail in the present work, must stiU leave a 
 ' region unexplored. A fourth, or residual department, 
 ' would need to be constituted, the department of 
 
 1 It must be said, however, that Professor Bain succeeds in escaping 
 from the confusions in which Mr Mill is entangled, mainly by the 
 easy method (also adopted by Hume — see Appendix) of evading the 
 essential diifioulty. His remarks on ' Moral Inability — the Offender's 
 Plea,' amount to a positive negation of Moral Responsibility, as dis- 
 tinct from Responsibility simple, or mere Punishment with a view 
 to conduct in the future, ' such as we iuiiict on a cur to teach it to 
 respect the carpet.' When expressly, in the next chapter, Moral 
 Responsibility falls to be treated of, it is discussed in the most 
 meagre and perfunctory way. Defining it as simple PunishaUlity, 
 Professor Bain, in the very few remarks he makes, writes exclusively 
 from the ler/al, and absolutely ignwes the moral point of view. 
 
Seem to fit Mr Bain indifferently. 143 
 
 ' "self" or Me-ation, and we should set about the 
 ' investigation of the laws (or the anarchy) prevailing 
 ' there, as in the three remaining branches.' 
 
 Precisely so ; rem acu tdigit ; here is the very kernel 
 of the matter. If there be truly a living subject, Mind 
 or Me (certainly, if we suppose it to exist, ' not to be 
 stated under the form of a specific motive or end '), 
 of which Emotion, VoKtion, Intellect, are mere states, 
 or modes of activity, we certainly demand a Me-ation 
 in addition to that so-called 'analysis of the mind,' 
 which concerns itself with these mere modes of its 
 manifestation. "Without this there is certainly an 
 ' imputation on the sufficiency ' of the ' common ana- 
 lysis,' considered as an analysis of the mind, or Me. 
 A department of Me-ation would distinctly ' need to 
 be constituted,' in order to the exhaustiveness of the 
 inq^uiry; but as clearly it can never be constituted, 
 the Me being necessarily unable to get behind itself, 1 
 so to speak, the most exhaustive inquiry possible to 
 us 'must still leave a region unexplored,' in which 
 Freedom — who knows? — may have its home. This, 
 Professor Bain perfectly well sees; and by way of 
 getting rid of the difficulty, he quite coolly denies the 
 existence of the mind as anything but merely the 
 observed sum of its own states. 'The proper mean- 
 ' ing of self can be nothing more than my corporeal 
 ' existence, coupled with my sensations, thoughts, 
 
 ^ ' Can I give a reason for that, beyond the circle of which I cannot 
 ' go, without at the same time overstepping the limits of my own 
 ' existence ? ' — Fichtb. 
 
144 Shockingly ill, in fact. 
 
 ' emotions, and volitions, supposing the classification 
 ' exhaustive, and the sum of these in the past, pre- 
 ' sent, and future.' But these states are observed 
 states — observed by the me as its own; states of 
 which r am conscious, and of which I am conscious 
 as mine — they are 'my corporeal existence, coupled 
 with my sensations,' &c. The Me is of necessity ad- 
 mitted in the very act of denying it. Without a per- 
 manent existence calling itself ' I,' how comes it that 
 these stray sensations, &c., in the past, present, and 
 future, are found to sum themselves in unity as mine ? 
 Further — ' I am not able to concede the existence of 
 ' an inscrutable entity in the depths of one's being, to 
 ' which the name I is to be distinctively applied, and 
 ' not consisting of any bodily organ or function, or 
 ' any one mental phenomenon that can be specified. 
 ' We might as weU talk of a mineral as difi'erent from 
 ' the sum of all its assignable properties. A piece of 
 ' quartz is an aggregate of inertia, specific gravity, 
 ' &c. &c. &c. The aggregate is the quartz' own self, 
 ' essence, or whatever other designation marks it off 
 ' from other materials.' One needs scarce offer serious 
 reply to this. Who that knew what he was about 
 would ever speak — as here Professor Bain implicitly 
 makes his opponents do — of something which he calls 
 his Being, and then of ' an inscrutable entity ' called 
 his self or /, distinct from that Being, and presumed 
 to be resident somewhere 'in the depths of it' ? Who 
 ever asked the Professor to ' concede ' anything so 
 preposterous as this ? Seems it not plain that a self 
 
Shockingly. 145 
 
 or T is asserted, not as distinct from, but one with tlie 
 veritable Being of the man — an 'inscrutible entity' 
 indeed, yet not in Professor Bain's sense inscrutable, 
 as under some supposed necessity of being a denizen 
 of 'the depths of itsdf, and presumably excluded 
 from its surface. Similar is the confusion of object- 
 ing to a mind or Ego 'not consisting of any bodily 
 organ or function, or any one mental phenomenon.' An 
 Ego or mind which should ' consist of bodily organs ' 
 — arms or legs, to wit, which can be cut off and pre- 
 sented to us on the dissecting-table, the Ego remain- 
 ing intact as before — or of ' bodily functions,' such as 
 digestion, seems somewhat an obscure conception. Not 
 much more lucid is that of a mind consisting of 
 'mental phenomena.' Phenomena are needs pheno- 
 menal of something; mental phenomena must needs 
 be phenomenal of the entity we designate Mind — an 
 entity in its proper nature unknown, yet essential as 
 ground of the phenomena. As to the quartz illustra- 
 tion, it is naught, and to be set aside as sinning in the 
 extrusion of Consciousness, the sole matter to be ex- 
 plained. The bit of quartz is before me, and I know,. 
 and can only know it, as an aggregate of certain pro- 
 perties ; the me also I have cognisance of, solely 
 through the aggregate of its sensations, thoughts, &c., 
 but these do not, as the properties in the other case, 
 exhaust the sum of my knowledge, for I know them 
 in the aggregate as mine,. How without a Me pre- 
 supposed, come they to so aggregate themselves ? 
 Plainly a Me must be assumed as the very principle 
 K 
 
146 Mr Mill's Notion of Matter. 
 
 of aggregation. What are sensations which are ' my 
 sensations,' yet moi-mine, as not belonging to a me ? 
 Speculations, which can only be stated in these gross 
 forms of contradiction, may be held to bring with 
 them their own confutation. When Professor Bain, 
 therefore, concludes — ' A self-determining power, then, 
 ' in a voluntary agent, is merely another, and not a 
 ' good, expression for the ordinary course of the will, 
 ' as we understand it,' he seems to say nothing to the 
 purpose; the region of Will or Personality, when he 
 has done all he can with ' volition,' being left behind 
 him ' unexplored,' so that properly he can be said to 
 understand nothing whatever of it. 
 
 The futility of the whole speculation, it is hoped, 
 will further and conclusively appear, on a review of 
 Mr Mill's contribution to the subject in his Chapter 
 entitled, 'The Psychological Theory of Matter, how 
 far applicable to the Mind.' With Mr Mill's Psycho- 
 logical Theory of Matter we are not here directly 
 concerned, further than as it seems necessary to fix 
 its postulates. These a.re sensation, expectation — with 
 memory as the necessary condition of it — association 
 of ideas, and ' the human mind as capable ' of all these. 
 So much granted him, Mr Mill proceeds to resolve 
 what deludes us as the external non-ego of matter 
 into mere ' permanent possibilities of sensation.' The 
 discussion is jDf much interest, and in its way may be 
 ranked as a masterpiece of ingenuity. It seems to 
 admit of question, indeed, whether the element of 
 permanence — on which plainly lies the stress of the 
 
On the whole a pretty Eidolon. 147 
 
 proof — is fairly deduced from the premises. To my- 
 self it looks a little as if Mr Mill, more suo, rather 
 smuggles it in as he proceeds, making quiet ' convey- 
 ance ' of it, as it were, from the material world, some 
 eidolon of which he is engaged in trying to construct, 
 than exhibits it as in rational process evolved. Fur- 
 ther, it seems a little unfortunate that Mr Mill, in 
 assuming sensation, and proceeding to work with it 
 as a fact, of which no explanation is needed, has 
 really left behind him unsolved, one might almost 
 say, the whole problem.^ Still, sensations and the 
 
 1 Given the Ego (and, as we shall find, Mr Mill is forced, however 
 against the grain, to concede to ns the Ego), sensation is developed in 
 it as an effect, some canse of which must be assigned. What is this 
 oanse ? The Ego in sensation seZ/-determined ? This does not of 
 itself seem a very feasible speculation, though I vaguely suppose 
 Fichte, at one moment of his development, may have held some- 
 thing of the kind ; and as mere matter of course, to Mr Mill it 
 would be specially abhorrent. If the Ego, then, be not determined 
 to sensation ab intra, it must needs be determined ab extra ; in 
 other words, by some form of a Mow-Ego. There does not seem 
 any escape from this. Shall we assume this non-Ego, as in the 
 system of the Natural Realist, a material entity known as the exter- 
 nal world ; or a spiritual one with the Super-Natural Realists— so 
 call them — of whom Berkeley may stand as type ? It does not seem 
 to greatly matter which ; at any height of speculation, more especi- 
 ally in the light of the ' Doctrine of Relativity, ' now very generally 
 acquiesced in, the distinction between them seems pretty much to 
 disappear. Suffice it, there is given, in either case, the Ego as real, 
 and, external to it, a universe of real existence. If belief in some 
 form of non-Ego is thus, under the law of Causation, forced on us by 
 the very necessities of thinking, Mr Mill may make what he wiU, and 
 welcome, of the particular form of it apprehended as matter in con- 
 sciousness. Nobody is much interested to protect from his attack the 
 Matter, of which, as truly and in itself existing, nobody professes to 
 know anything whatever, — Vide Appendix, Note VI. 
 
148 His Eidolon of Mind f 
 
 rest given him, Mr Mill, with a little help from per- 
 manence as he goes, really succeeds in producing a 
 very pretty eidolon of matter, and proving it, vi^hen 
 produced, quite as serviceable as the real thing. So 
 much achieved, and his spick and span new creation 
 of Matter seeming to him all very good, it occurred 
 to Mr Mill, in what I must really think a hapless 
 moment, that perhaps an eidolon of Mind might be 
 come at on the same terms. Sensation being postu- 
 lated as before, and along with it now, the circle of 
 ' our internal feelings '^ Mr Mill seeks accordingly to 
 show, that what we call Mind is sufficiently accounted 
 
 1 ' Thus far there seems no hindrance to our regarding Mind as no- 
 ' thing but the series of our sensations (to which must now be added 
 ' our internal feelings) as they actually occur, with the addition of in- 
 ' finite possibilities,' &o. 
 
 There seems in this to be some confusion. Mr Mill, who has just 
 to his own satisfaction argued away externality, seems here to define 
 sensation, as by contrast, an external feeling. It would be foolish, 
 however, to press, as against Mr Mill, a confusion which, considered 
 in itself, he no doubt could readilj' explain as no more than merely 
 verbal. More pertinent, perhaps, is the following little objection : — 
 Mr Mill defines Mind here as ' nothing but the series of our sensations, ' 
 together with our 'internal feelings,'— certain Possibilities being 
 superadded. Now, either Mr Mill does or does not distinguish sensa- 
 tion as, in some real sense, external, from those other expressly 
 styled ' internal feelings.' If he does, he seems to admit the non-Ego, 
 which he has argued out of existence. If, on the other hand, he 
 does not, some further explanation seems required ; for that very 
 'series of sensations and Possibilities of Sensation,' which, in this 
 Chapter, are concreted into the Ego, figured in the last as concreted 
 into the noM-Ego. How this should be, except in virtue of the funda- 
 mental antithesis asserted by Hamilton, and by Mr Mill resolutely 
 denied, Mr Mill can perhaps explain ; but meantime he has not done 
 so. It seems almost essential that he should. 
 
Not so pretty. 1 49 
 
 for as no more than 'the series of those feelings 
 supplemented by Possibilities of feeling ; ' that the 
 entity called Mind has, in point of fact, no existence. 
 But has Mr Mill really forgotten, that in originally 
 ' postulating sensation, expectation,' &c., he was ob- 
 liged to postulate 'a mind capable' of them; there- 
 fore an entity of Mind — non-entities being ' capable ' 
 of nothing — of which postulate necessary to his first 
 demonstration, he must be held to give himself the 
 benefit in the second, when anew he assumes sensation, 
 together with ' internal feeling,' and of course ' expecta- 
 tion,' as before ? Plainly, Mr Mill must have forgotten 
 it. To postulate a capable entity Mind was legitimate 
 for Mr Mill in an argument to prove the non-existence 
 of Matter, but scarcely in one intended to prove the 
 non-existence of Mind. What logical fallacy is it, in 
 virtue of which, assuming a thing to exist, we proceed 
 to prove that it does not, and exhibit as result of our 
 reasonings the negation of their own premises ? So 
 far as I am aware, it has not as yet got a name, per- 
 haps as occurring so . seldom. If we call it a -petitio 
 principii, run mad like a sceptical philosopher, into 
 questioning its own existence, we seem to come as near 
 it as may be. And of this most egregious of fallacies, 
 Mr Mill is here, beyond all question, guilty. Suppose 
 Mr MiU — in this following what is plainly the phil- 
 osophical order — had Icgun by applying his ' Psycholo- 
 gical Theory' to Mind, instead of beginning, as he 
 does, with Matter, one is curious to know how he 
 would have proceeded. With the result at which he 
 
150 Objections Extrinsic and Intrinsic to it. 
 
 aims in view, it would hardly have done to postulate, 
 in exipnss terms, ' a mind capable of expectation,' &c. ; 
 and a sensation or feeling, without any sentient sub- 
 ject, and itself^ capable of expectation, is perhaps too 
 wild a figment for even Mr Mill to take up with. His 
 'Psychological Theory of Mind' would thus have 
 fairly foundered on his bauds in trying to take its very 
 first step. As it is, it only succeeds in making way at 
 all, by quietly carrying on from the one chapter a pos- 
 tulate, which stultifies the result laboriously arrived at 
 in the other. 
 
 Further, Mr Mill, having with great pains and really 
 considerable success defended his Theory of Mind from 
 certain 'extrinsic objections' alleged as fatal to it, 
 proceeds to admit with great frankness, '^that ' the 
 
 1 Vide Professor Mansel (Prolegomena Logica, p. 139). 
 
 ' Does it not rather appear a flat self-contradiction to maintain that I 
 ' am not immediately conscious of myself, but only of my sensations 
 ' or volitions ? "Who, then, is this I that is conscious, and how can 
 ' I he conscious of such states 'as mine i In this case, it would surely 
 ' be far more accurate to say, not that I am conscious of my sensations, 
 'hut that the sensation is conscious of itself ; but thus worded, the 
 ' glaring absurdity of the theory would cany with it its own con- 
 ' futation.' 
 
 Now, distinctly Mr Mill either must postulate 'a Mind,' or this 
 ' glaring absurdity' he must postulate. Beaten from his postulate of 
 a Mind, it is here that he must hide his head ; and indeed he may well 
 hide it, for the absurdity is by himself admitted glaring ; a sensation 
 ' conscious of itself ' being precisely identical in ineptitude with the 
 ' series of sensations and feelings aware (or conscious) of itself as a 
 series,' in which Mr Mill, with great frankness, to conclude, admits a 
 C[uite hopeless paradox. Yet this paradox of ' a sensation conscious 
 of itself,' and, a little to increase the absurdity, ' capable of expecta- 
 tion ' to boot, has become the postulate of his argument. 
 
Mr Mill disposes of the Intrinsic ones. 151 
 
 ' theory has intrinsic difficulties beyond the power of 
 ' metaphysical analysis to remove ; ' the phenomena of 
 Memory and Expectation ' reducing us to the alter- 
 ' native of believing that the Mind or Ego is something 
 ' different from any series of feelings or possibilities of 
 ' them, or of accepting the paradox, that something 
 ' which ex hypothesi, is but a series of feelings, can be 
 ' aware of itself as a series.' (In other words, Mr Mill, 
 having postulated Expectation — in which Memoiy 
 must be held presupposed — admits himself slain by 
 his own postulate.) It has commonly been supposed 
 that speculations admitted to involve insuperable diffi- 
 culties, and to lead into incredible paradox, therein 
 are, in effect, admitted to be utterly worthless specu- 
 lations. Mr Mill, however, as neither inclined to ad- 
 mit his speculation worthless, nor resolute enough in 
 absurdity to accept the paradox it leads to, proceeds to 
 save himself thus — 
 
 ' The truth is, that we are here face to face with 
 ' that final inexplicability, at which, as Sir W. Hamil- 
 ' ton observes, we inevitably arrive when we reach 
 ' ultimate facts ; and in general, one mode of stating 
 ' it only appears more incomprehensible than another, 
 ' because the whole of human language is accommo- 
 ' dated to the one, and is so incongruous with the 
 ' other, that it cannot be expressed in any terms which 
 ' do not deny its truth. The real stumbling-block is 
 ' perhaps not in any theory of the fact, but in the fact 
 ' itself. The true incomprehensibility perhaps is, that 
 ' something which has ceased, or is not yet in existence. 
 
152 Disposes of Himself in so doing. 
 
 ' can still be in a manner present ; that a series of feel- 
 ' ings, the infinitely greater part of which is past or 
 ' future, can be gathered up, as it were, into a single 
 ' present conception, accompanied by a belief of reality. 
 ' I think, by far the wisest thing we can do, is to ac- 
 ' cept the inexplicable fact, without any theory of how 
 ' it takes place ; and when we are obliged to speak 
 ' of it, in terms which assume a theory, to use them 
 ' with a reservation as to their meaning.' 
 
 With every respect for what Mr Mill considers ' by 
 far the wisest thing we can do,' I cannot but think Mr 
 Mill would have done a much wiser thing, had he 
 simply admitted as a datum of consciousness, the Ego 
 which, as he confesses, his Psychological method has 
 utterly failed to evolve ; and which, however in itself 
 inexplicable, satisfactorily explains the phenomena. 
 As it is, he seems here a little to lie open to the criti- 
 cism he himself has elsewhere — and I think with 
 justice — directed against Sir W. Hamilton (p. 544, 
 545): 'He lays the responsibility of the failure not 
 ' upon his theory (of Pleasure), but upon the general 
 ' inexplicability of ultimate facts. This appears to me 
 ' a great misconception, on our author's part, of what 
 ' may rightfully be demanded from a theorist. He 
 ' 'is not entitled to frame a theory from one class of 
 ' phenomena, extend it to another class which it does not 
 ' fit, and excuse himself hy saying that if we cannot make 
 ' it fit, it is because ultimate facts are inexplicable.' Mr 
 Mill seems in this, with some closeness, to describe his 
 own procedure. Again — ' If we do propound a theory, 
 
Greater Griefs in store for Mr Mill. 153 
 
 ' we are bound to prove all it asserts ; it is not philoso- 
 ' phical to assert a thing, and fall hack upon the in- 
 ' comprehensibility of the subject^ as a dispensation from 
 ' proving it. What is a hindrance to proving a theory 
 ' ought to ie a hindrance to affirming it.'' In which last 
 sentences Mr Mill must be held to satisfactorily ex- 
 punge his own Chapter on the ' Psychological Theory 
 of Mind.' 
 
 These little griefs are, however, as nothing to those 
 which Mr Mill presently goes on to earn for himself, 
 as obstinately determined not to concede to Hamilton 
 the Ego as given in Consciousness. The opening 
 paragraph of his next Chapter (XIII. 'The Psycho- 
 logical Theory of the Primary Qualities of Matter') 
 probably includes as much blunder and ineptitude as 
 any Philosopher has ever yet succeeded in packing in 
 the same space. 
 
 'For the reasons which have been set forth, I con- 
 ' ceive Sir W. Hamilton to be wrong in his statement 
 ' that a Self and not-Self are immediately appre- 
 ' hended in our primitive consciousness. We have, in 
 ' all probability, no notion of Not-self, until after con- 
 ' siderable experience of the recurrence of sensations 
 ' according to fixed laws, and in groups. But without 
 ' the notion of Not-self, we cannot have that of Self 
 ' which is contrasted with it. Nor is it credible that 
 ' the first sensation which we experience awakens in 
 ' us any notion of an Ego or Self. To refer it to an 
 ' Ego is to consider it as part of a series of states of 
 ' consciousness, some portion of which is already past. 
 
154 Experience, Consciousness, and the Ego. 
 
 ' The identification of a present state with a remem- 
 ' bered state cognised as past, is what, to my think- 
 ' ing, constitutes the cognition that it is I who feel it. 
 '" I " means he who saw, touched, or felt something 
 ' yesterday or the day before. No single sensation 
 ' can suggest personal identity ; this requires a series 
 ' of sensations, thought of as forming a line of suc- 
 ' cession, and summed up in thought into a Unity.' 
 (P. 214, 1st Edition.) 
 
 Not only is it entirely ' credible ' that ' the first sensa- 
 tion we experience ' may ' awaken in us a notion of the 
 Ego,' but — except for his own express testimony to 
 that effect — I should have held it utterly twcredible 
 that a man like Mr Mill should conceive of the fact 
 as otherwise. The ' first sensation we experience ' is, of 
 course, a fact of ' consciousness ; ' sensations which are 
 not in consciousness do not, as such, exist, and can be 
 plainly no part of our 'experience.' Now, how are 
 we to define Consciousness? Hamilton defines it as 
 ' the recognition by the mind or Ego of its own acts 
 or affections ; ' and ' in this,' says Mr Mill, ' as he 
 truly observes, " all philosophers are agreed." ' Con- 
 sequently, as Mr Mill does not probably mean to 
 exclude himself as in a minority of one, and no 
 philosopher, he accepts Hamilton's definition. And 
 accepting it, he must also accept — however against 
 the grain — the Ego apprehended in primitive sensa- 
 tion, as conscious of, or ' cognising its own affection ; ' 
 unless indeed — which seems a little too absurd — he is 
 prepared to maintain that we can ' experience ' sensa- 
 
The Griefs of Mr Mill great. 155 
 
 tions, witliout in the least being ' conscious ' of them. 
 Mr Mill's whole Chapter XII. 'The Psychological 
 Theory of Matter, how far applicable to Mind,' is thus 
 at one stroke demolished. This for Mr Mill seems 
 sufficiently grievous ; but a worse grief is behind. 
 For, the Ego being thus given us in primitive con- 
 sciousness — and this Mr Mill can only deny by rush- 
 ing upon the wild absurdity above — the Non-Ego is, 
 according to Mr Mill himself, given us along luitli it. 
 ' Without the notion of mo^Self, we cannot have that 
 ^f Self which is contrasted with it.' The Not-self, 
 even if it could not otherwise be got at, is thus 
 legitimated by the Self, given — as we have seen, — 
 in this necessary 'relation of contrast,' by Mr Mill 
 himself insisted on. Mr Mill's Chapter XI., there- 
 fore, 'The Psychological Theory of the Belief in an 
 External World,' must fleet into the limbo of abortions 
 along with Chapter XII.; and — sad to say — Chapter 
 XI. about 'Matter' having fleeted in that direction. 
 Chapter XIII. about 'The Primary Qualities of 
 Matter,' may plainly, without curious inquiry into 
 it, be also held to have fleeted. It seems probable 
 that considerable sections of Mr Mill's previous direct 
 criticism of Hamilton's Review of Tluories on iJw, 
 Belief of an External World, would on any strict 
 examination of it, be found to have gone the same 
 bad road. Mr Mill writes a good deal of criticism ; 
 he supplements it with three Chapters of original and 
 highly ingenious speculation; then, presto, in about 
 as many sentences (when we have merely pulled 
 
156 Greater, if possible, 
 
 them about a little), he is found to have conclusively- 
 shattered his own most imposing fabric. Has any- 
 feat comparable to this been brought home by him 
 to Sir W. Hamilton ? I trow not. What is specially 
 to be insisted on is this, that my criticism of Mr Mill 
 here — which T venture to think cannot at any point 
 be evaded — shuts him up to acquiescence in the very 
 doctrine, against which throughout he is arguing — 
 Hamilton's doctrine to wit, that Consciousness gives 
 ' as an ultimate fact, a primitive dualitj'-, the Ego and 
 ' Xon-Ego in an original synthesis and antithesis.' Mr 
 Mill, in arguing against Hamilton, is here — though 
 strangely unaware of the fact — in true and funda- 
 mental agreement with him. Rere, at least, it seems 
 shown that the relation of Mr Mill to Hamilton is not 
 of that absolutely triumphant kind which his idolaters 
 have been eager to assume it.^ 
 
 1 Tlie above is repvoduced verbatim from a little paper published 
 some considerable time before the issue of Mr Mill's third Edition of 
 his work. That it ever came under the eye of Mr Mill, I have no 
 special reason to suppose. But that somcliow, he had become uneasily 
 aware that here he had brought himself to grief, is in his third Edition 
 made evident. That fatal clause, ' But without the notion of Not- 
 Self,' &c., he deletes, with this explanatory Note — 'In the first 
 ' Edition I said — "But without the notion of Not-Self, we cannot 
 ' "have that of Self which is contrasted with it." In saying this I 
 ' overlooked the fact that my own sensations and other feelings, as 
 ' distinguished from what I call Myself, are a sufficient Not-Self to 
 ' make the Self apprehensible. The contrast necessary to all cogni- 
 ' tion is sufficiently provided for by the antithesis between the Ego 
 ' and particular modifications of the Ego.' 
 
 This is well ; and might almost be held to show that Mr Mill is not 
 now 'in true and fundamental agreement with Hamilton,' thouch 
 beyond all question he was so, when he issued his first Edition. And 
 
Not getting any less. 157 
 
 Further — ' No single sensation can suggest per- 
 
 senal identity; this requires a series of sensations, 
 
 'thought of as forming a line of succession, and 
 
 summed up in thought into a Unity.' This is 
 
 granted ; but with a single sensation as emerging in 
 
 Consciousness, there emerges necessarily, as we saw, 
 
 the Ego conscious of, or cognising it — the Personality ; 
 
 and in order to the notion of identity, only one more 
 
 sensation will be needed, cognised as also mine. 
 
 Moreover, declining to admit the Ego, as thus 
 
 emerging in primitive consciousness, it is surprising 
 
 Mr Mill should have failed to see that the Ego, as 
 
 it is not unamusing to note, that in getting out of Ms agreement with 
 Hamilton, he gets out of agreement with Mmself. For his admission 
 of an original ' antithesis between the Ego and particular modifica- 
 tions of the Ego, sensations, and other feelings,' simply withers to 
 the very root his ' Psychological Theory of Mind. ' Moreover, as we 
 saw (page 147), if Mr Mill will only for an instant inquire as to the 
 cause of these ' modifications of the Ego,' he will find, perhaps a little 
 to his disgust, that he is still in so far ' in fundamental agreement 
 with Hamilton, ' as under his own pet law of Causation, constrained 
 to admit either a self-determining Ego — which of course he would 
 rather die than admit — or a Non-Ego of some sort, as a real-external 
 existence. For, however Mr Mill may wish it otherwise, the ' Sx 
 nihilo,' &c., remains as an axiom unimpeachable, and a thing which 
 does not exist, cannot exist as cause. Belief in some form of a Non- 
 Ego being thus forced upon us by the very necessities of thinking 
 (supposing we take the trouble to think), does Mr Mill really sup- 
 pose it of supreme importance to inquire as to the development of 
 the Non-Ego, empirically apprehended in Consciousness? Meta- 
 physically the inquiry is of no importance ; psTjchologicaUy it is of 
 much interest for those who are interested in the spinning of cobwebs, 
 and like to observe the operation ; somewhat as a curious Naturalist 
 may delight to watch a spider at work. From this point of view, 
 Mr Mill's elaborate speculation as to Matter is already sufficiently 
 recognised, as a great tour de force of ingenuity. 
 
158 Increasing a little, if anything. 
 
 he himself proceeds to constitute it, could never at all 
 have emerged. Nothing is more certain than that 
 Mr Mill's account of the Ego, as developed in later 
 Consciousness, necessitates belief in it as given in a 
 previous Consciousness, which Mr MiU — the argu- 
 ment being merely pushed back a little — could be 
 forced to recognise as primitive. ' To refer it (Sensa- 
 ' tion) to an Ego, is to consider it as part of a series 
 ' of states of consciousness, some portion of which is 
 ' already past. The identification of a present state 
 ' with a remembered state cognised as past, is what, 
 ' to my thinking, constitutes the cognition that it is 
 ' T who feel it. " I " means he who saw, touched, or 
 ' felt something yesterday or the day before.' But 
 surely, in order that ' I ' should have seen or touched 
 something the day before, ' I ' must then have been in 
 existence ; ' a remembered state cognised as past, 
 ' and identified with a state now present,' must itself 
 have been cognised as present in the past to which 
 reference is made. In order to be recognised, and 
 identified with a present sensation as also mine, 
 plainly the sensation in the past, must then have been 
 so cognised. At whatever point, therefore, in the 
 series of sensations, Mr Mill makes the Ego commence 
 its operations in remembrance and identification, he 
 will be driven to admit that it must have commenced 
 them hefore, as cognising the thing it now remembers 
 or recognises. Unless, indeed, Mr Mill's Ego has a 
 talent for remembering what took place before it came 
 into existence ! 
 
Mr Mill's Ego cognisant, though not alive. 159 
 
 Turning to the explanatory Discussion, which Mr 
 Mni now appends to these Chapters, one is driven 
 to conclude that an Ego of this kind is really that 
 substituted by Mr Mill for the Ego of primitive 
 consciousness. "We there find him writing — ' Since the 
 ' fact which alone necessitates the belief in an Ego, 
 ' the one fact which the Psychological Theory cannot 
 ' explain, is the fact of Memory (for Expectation I 
 ' hold to be both psychologically and logically a 
 ■ consequence of Memory), I see no reason to think 
 ' that there is any cognisance of an Ego, until Memory 
 ' commences. There seems no ground for believing 
 ' with Sir W. Hamilton, and Mr Mansel, that the 
 ' Ego is an original presentation of consciousness ; 
 ' that the mere impression on our senses involves, 
 ' or carries with it, any consciousness of a Self, any 
 ' more than I believe it to do of a N"ot-sel£ Our 
 ' very notion of a Self takes its commencement, there 
 ' is every reason to suppose, from the representation 
 ' of a sensation in Memory, when awakened by the 
 ' only thing there is to awaken it before any associa- 
 ' tions have been formed — namely, the occurrence of 
 ' a subsequent sensation similar to the former one. 
 ' The fact of recognising a sensation, of being reminded 
 ' of it, and, as we say, remembering that it has been 
 ' felt before, is the simplest and most elementary fact 
 ' of Memory.' 
 
 This is an excellently clear statement ; and see to 
 what Mr Mill is self-committed in it ; to r-epresentations 
 in memory, of sensations, whereof there was no pre- 
 
1 60 Professor Ferrier v. Mr Mill's Ego. 
 
 vious 'presentation; to sensations recognised or re- 
 minded in the present, and yet not in the past origi- 
 nally cognis&d, or minded ; to ' subsequent sensations ' 
 by the Ego apprehended as ' similar to former ones,' 
 which the Ego, as not then in existence, could not 
 possibly then have apprehended. Mr Mill's Ego, as 
 I said, is an Ego with the mysterious property of 
 remembering things which took place some time 
 before it was born.i Mr Mill, in declining to admit 
 
 ■^ All this is so well and clearly put by Professor Ferrier, that in- 
 stead of rehashing him as here, I might have been well content simply 
 to quote his masterly statement of it (vide Institutes of Metaphysic, 
 p. 81, 82):— 
 
 ' A theory of self-consciousness, opposed to the doctrine advanced 
 ' in our first proposition, has been sometimes advocated. It reduces 
 ' this operation to a species of reminiscence ; it affirms that we are 
 ' first cognisant of various sensible impressions, and are not conscious 
 ' of ourselves, until we reflect on them afterwards. But this doc- 
 ' trine involves a contradiction ; for it supposes us to recollect 
 ' certain impressions to have been ours, after they have been experi- 
 ' enced, which we did not know to be ours when they were experi- 
 ' enced. A man cannot remember what never happened. If the 
 ' impressions were not known to be ours at the time, they could not 
 ' subsequently be remembered to have been ours, because their re- 
 ' collection would imply that we remembered an antecedent connec- 
 ' tion between ourselves and them ; which connection, however, had 
 ' no place in our former experience, inasmuch as this theory declares 
 ' that no self was in the first instance apprehended ; therefore, if the 
 ' impressions are recognised on reflection to have been ours, they 
 ' must originally have been known to be ours. In other words, we 
 ' must have been conscious of self at the time when the impressions 
 ' were made. ' 
 
 Could the ' impossible consciousness before consciousness,' which 
 at starting, I alleged to be involved in Mr Mill's mode of conceiving 
 the relations of consciousness and experience, possibly be better illus- 
 trated than as we find it in this passage. 
 
Mr Mill anew defines his Position. 1 6 1 
 
 in an Ego, so mysterious in its properties as this 
 such a trifle, by comparison, as Freedom, seems oddly 
 to strain at a gnat, after just having swallowed a 
 camel, as deftly as he might an oyster. 
 
 In fine — Mr Mill, in now proceeding to further ex- 
 plain the position he before took up, writes — ' Having 
 ' stated these facts (of Memory and Expectation) as 
 ' inexplicable by the Psychological Theory, I left them 
 ' to stand as facts, without any theory whatever ; not 
 ' adopting the Permanent Possibility hypothesis as a 
 ' sufficient theory of Self, in spite of the objections to 
 ' it, as some of my critics have imagined, and have 
 ' wasted no small amount of argument and sarcasm in 
 ' exposing the untenability of such a position ; neither, 
 ' on the other hand, did I, as others have supposed, 
 ' accept the common theory of Mind, as a so-called 
 ' Substance.' 
 
 Mr Mill seems in this to ignore the not unimportant 
 fact before noted, that Memory and Expectation, though 
 'inexplicable' by the Theory he proposes, are quite 
 satisfactorily explained by the ordinary theory of the 
 Ego, itsdf inexplicable, yet accepted as a datum, or 
 more properly, a necessary condition of Consciousness ; 
 a theory for which he admits, as we saw, thus much is 
 always to be said, that ' the whole of human language 
 ' is accommodated to it ; and is so incongruous with 
 ' the other, that it cannot be expressed in any terms 
 ' which do not deny its truth.' It seems to me that a 
 theory which can say this for itself, and which is. fur- 
 ther commended to us as at once explaining the facts, 
 L 
 
1 62 With small success — Ike Ego admitted. 
 
 which the other Theory is bound to explain and is 
 driven to confess it cannot, is, of the two, very much 
 the preferable Theory. But plainly Mr Mill would do 
 anything rather than admit it so. And yet, in effect, 
 in the end he admits all that anybody wants of him. 
 ' As such (an original element) I ascribe a reality to 
 ' the Ego — to my own mind — different from that real 
 ' existence as a Permanent Possibility, which is the 
 ' only reality I acknowledge in Matter ; and by fair 
 ' experiential inference from that one Ego, I ascribe 
 ' the same reality to other minds.' This is, in truth, a 
 virtual concession of all that Hamilton contends for, in 
 assuming the Ego, as a fact, for which we have the 
 authority of consciousness. If thus admitting a reality 
 in the Ego, Mr Mill still declines to admit it, as Sub- 
 stance, this seems only to mean that Mr Mill is at once 
 constrained to admit, and yet determined to deny. If 
 Mr Mill does not define Substance precisely as he must 
 the Ego — a Eeality, in itself unknown, yet subsumed 
 as a necessary ground of phenomena — ' a bond of con- 
 ' nection to hold a group or series of otherwise uncon- 
 ' nected phenomena together ' (p. 246) one is puzzled 
 to guess how he would define it. 
 
 On the whole, I think we may conclude with some 
 confidence, that if the argument from Personality, as 
 neutralising that against Freedom derived from the 
 Causation of human actions, in itself be worth any- 
 thing, it will not be seriously invalidated by any such 
 sceptical resolution of the human Personality itself, as 
 
The argument from Personality remains. 163 
 
 that by Mr Mill here abortively suggested, and admitted 
 by himself abortive. 
 
 And here it may be well to conclude a Dissertation 
 which has strayed considerably beyond the limits at 
 first proposed for it. The doctrine of ' Conciliation ' set 
 forth in it — essentially that, as I believe, by Hamilton 
 meant to be indicated — which admits Necessity on the 
 one hand (meaning only the Causation from which, in 
 the exclusion of Freedom, Necessity might seem to be 
 a logical inference), yet combines with it a belief in 
 Freedom, while admitting inability to explain the coin- 
 herence of the two in human action, or the terms of 
 their reciprocal limitation, might readily be shown to 
 be the only one which fits itself to all the facts, and 
 adjusts the scale of the variations which prevail in our 
 moral judgments. Further, it will be found that the 
 sanity of these is compromised, precisely as we ignore, 
 or even cease to assign its due importance to either one 
 or other of these constituent factors of human action. 
 Too exclusively dwelling on Necessity or the Causal 
 influence, we find it difficult to attribute hlame to any 
 action whatever ; the springs of healthy indignation 
 
 ^ A good deal of the ground covered by the foregoing Discussion is 
 very ably and intelligently gone over iu the concluding Sections of Pro- 
 fessor Masson's Mcview of Recent British Philosophy ; and while there 
 is no great similarity in the general treatment here, yet the point of 
 view at one or two places so closely approximates to his, that this 
 reference seems only proper. Mr Mill, in his Third Edition, has not 
 answered Professor Masson's argument ; nor could he, I think, have 
 done so. 
 
164 Doctrine of ^ Conciliation.' 
 
 are relaxed ; and we reach that questionable habit of 
 mind, in which a bastard charity is one with the 
 deadliness of moral indifference. Too exclusively 
 dwelling on Freedom, in oblivion of the awful pres- 
 sure on 'the afflicted Will'^ of causal circumstance 
 and temptation, we are but too apt to sin in the 
 opposite extreme of some rigour of harsh and in- 
 human judgment. In the one case, our sense of 
 merit and demerit in actions is apt to be unduly 
 weakened in a cynical approximation of the two ; in 
 the other case, the opposite danger is incurred of un- 
 due exaggeration of both considered as extremes of 
 
 00 
 
 divergence. Giving to each side of the complex truth 
 its due ; holding fast the Freedom of the Will, yet re- 
 membering always the tragical ' afflictions ' to which 
 it is causally subjected, we have ground, on the one ■ 
 hand, of stern and righteous rigour of judgment ; on 
 the other, of an infinite tenderness and compassion, a 
 thoughtful charity which does not wholly exclude from 
 its regards the vilest and most abandoned criminal who 
 ever libelled our common humanity. And this is, I 
 rather think, the ethical attitude, prescribed by our 
 highest standards.^ 
 
 ^ ' The dread strife 
 
 Of poor Humanity's aflBicted Will 
 
 Struggling in vain witli ruthless Destiny.' — Excursion. 
 By "Wordsworth indicated as the root-Idea of all Tragedy. It finely 
 expresses or implies the doctrine contended for. The Will of Man is 
 not Free in the absolute sense ; it is an ' afHicted Will,' as beset with 
 tragical limitations, which, however they perpetually ' afflict,' do not 
 yet annihilate it as Will. 
 
 '■' Some excellent remarks on this subject may be found in the work 
 of Dr Travis, to which allusion was before made. 
 
Doctrine of ' Conciliation^ 165 
 
 If at all we are to divorce in our minds these two 
 sides of the truth, on the whole it might not be amiss 
 to consider chiefly the side of Freedom when taking 
 account of our own rather questionable actions ; ^ that 
 of Necessity in judging of those of our neighbours. In 
 regard again of the good actions of ourselves and of others, 
 it may be better perhaps to reverse this, — considering 
 chiefly in ourselves the law of necessary Causation, 
 that of Freedom ^ as the law of other people. By merely 
 attending to a couple of rules so simple and obvious as 
 these, a man might almost flatter himself that, accord- 
 ing to the measure of his attention to them, he was be- 
 coming as near as possible perfect in the matter of his 
 moral judgments ; by the discipline of humility on the 
 one hand ; on the other, of charity, forbearance, and 
 genial recognition of the good as it lives all round him. 
 But it is sufficiently obvious that this is seldom our 
 way of arranging the matter ; that we are a little apt, 
 on the ground of necessary pressure and temptation, to 
 
 ^ [The point of view here is, of course, very closely coincident with 
 that of Mr Mill before he had soared to his higher stage of illumina- 
 tion on the subject. See passage in his Autobiography quoted in the 
 preface : ' I often said to myself what a relief it would be if I could 
 ' disbelieve the doctrine of the formation of the character by circum- 
 ' stances ; and remembering the wish of Fox respecting the doctrine of 
 ' resistance to governments, that it might never be forgotten by kings, 
 ' nor remembered by their subjects, I said that it would be. a blessing 
 ' if the doctrine of Necessity could be believed by all quoad the char- 
 ' acters of others, and disbelieved in regard to their own. '] 
 
 " ' The Law of Freedom ! ' The expression is at once scientifically 
 absurd, and non-scientifically accurate. On the one hand, we cannot 
 conceive of Moral Freedom, except as an outrage of Causal Law ; on 
 the other, we can only define it as a higher Law of Life, traversing 
 that Causal One, whose sublimities are those of Death. A Law of 
 
1 66 Moral Bearings of it. 
 
 excuse our own little trespasses, forgetting on the same 
 ground to allow for those of our friends ; on the ground 
 of Freedom, to glorify our own little pitiful virtues and 
 immunities, as if they were really ours, while tending 
 a little to depreciate the perfections of others, as if 
 scarcely so accurately theirs, as coming to them by 
 virtue of happy circumstance, and mere necessities of 
 Law and Nature. And apart from this it seems also 
 uncommonly obvious that, practically, an admission of 
 both sides of the complex truth. Causation or Necessity 
 on the one hand, Freedom on the other, does largely and 
 induentially determine the moral judgments of man- 
 kind — from which there might seem to be inference 
 that the Conciliatory Doctrine, which includes both, is 
 not very unlikely to be the true one. 
 
 ^¥hile I am far from thinking that the question of 
 theoretical belief on this subject is unimportant in its 
 bearing iipon practice, it is certain its practical influ- 
 ence may very readily be exaggerated ; as in truth 
 some tendency to exaggerate it is not unfrequently 
 to be noted in writers on behalf of Freedom — to say 
 nothing of the numerous enthusiasts on behalf of it 
 who, deprived of their gross exaggerations of this kind, 
 would be left helplessly without an argument. The fal- 
 
 Life ! One wonders if it ever occurs to Mr Mill and other gentlemen 
 of the Omniscient school, to ask themselves what essentially they 
 know about Life, in any form of it ? According to the latest lights, 
 the most advanced philosopher yet known can be positive as to nothing 
 more than this about it — that it is precisely some such unexplained 
 ' Conciliation of Opposites ' as that which he scouts as a puerile de- 
 lusion, when asserted in the other, or Moral sphere. 
 
Theory and Practice. 167 
 
 lacy which underlies these exaggerations has already been 
 sufficiently discussed {vide p. 112 et seg.) and need not 
 again be more than merely glanced at. Whether — as 
 one school of thinkers maintain — the Idea of Moral 
 Distinctions be come at as a primary intuition, or vital 
 fact of human Consciousness, or developed as a birth 
 of Experience under the law of Association — as to 
 which Mr Mill is clear — is a question somewhat 
 obscure. Happily, as thus obscure, it is also a little 
 unimportant, like a good many other deep and obscure 
 questions ; and the sense of Moral Distinctions, so 
 rooted in primal instinct, or in habit which has almost 
 the depth of that, may very well be trusted, in either 
 case, to maintain itself in life and practice against the 
 inroads of speculative Theory, accepted with whatever 
 fulness of conviction; pretty much as the practical 
 claims of Matter remain unaffected by the reasoning, 
 however distinctly acquiesced in, which evaporates it 
 into mere Idea and Illusion. This Analogy, however, 
 does by no means so accurately go on all-fours that it 
 could not be shown to limp a little ; ^ and however 
 it may be easy to exaggerate the probable effects on 
 conduct of the Theory which, excluding Freedom, for 
 every consistent thinker, excludes with it Moral Ee- 
 sponsibility, it has not the less tendencies to influence 
 conduct, which it is quite idle to suppose not at all ex- 
 pressed in the result. On this subject, as to which it 
 would be easy to enlarge, two remarks only. Mr Mill 
 himself in a general way admits ' the depressing effect 
 1 Mill and Carlyle, p. 115, 117. 
 
1 68 Theory and Practice. 
 
 ' of the Fatalist Doctrine, as humiliating to Pride and 
 ' paralysing to Desire of Excellence ' (the believer in 
 Freedom will do well to retain as much of it as may 
 be found ' humiliating to Pride ') admitting also that 
 belief in Freedom has frequently 'given to its ad- 
 ' herents a practical feeling, much nearer to the truth 
 ' than has generally existed in the minds of Ne- 
 ' cessitariaus, and fostered a stronger spirit of self- 
 ' culture ' than the opinion to which it is opposed. It 
 seems to me that of two opinions, the one which is 
 admitted to induce ' a practical feeling nearest to the 
 truth ' is rather more likely to be true than the other. 
 (As before said, the exact truth is only to be hit by 
 combining in a wretchedly illogical way the unhar- 
 monised, yet not contradictory opinions.) And, as we 
 have abundantly seen, between Mr Mill's Doctrine 
 denying Freedom, and a Fatalistic one, the distinction 
 is no more than the dream of an eminent Logician, 
 whose Logic has for the time gone elsewhere. Further, 
 it is the most familiar of all experiences that the fullest 
 belief iu Freedom does not prevent us from habitually 
 using so much as we admit of Causation in temptation 
 and malign conjunctions of Circumstance, as excuse to 
 ourselves of any little lapse we may be guilty of. And 
 what believing in Freedom, we thus do inevitably, un- 
 awares, and unconsciously, the belief in Freedom with- 
 drawn, and Causation only believed in, there seems 
 really some ground to suppose we might come to do 
 in full Consciousness, and with express approval of 
 Eeason. It is in this way, and as subtle anodyne of 
 
The Speculative the Main Interest. 169 
 
 one's own accusing Conscience, that practically the 
 Doctrine of Necessity or Fate is most to be feared. Its 
 effect, even in this way, may readily enough be ex- 
 aggerated ; and there does not seem the least risk to 
 speak of, that, however it might lead us to a little 
 excuse our own sins, it coiild ever make us sin in any 
 excess of leniency to those of our friends which might 
 touch us in either skin or pocket. 
 
 The main interest of the question as to human Free- 
 dom is speculative; and however Mr Mill — as we have 
 seen — may exhibit himself unable to distinguish be- 
 tween the practical point of view and the speculative, 
 the Speculative question remains, when the Practical 
 one is dismissed as, by comparison, of little import. 
 Further, at this day remaining, it is not unlikely to 
 remain some little time longer. Science was really, in 
 any accurate notion of it, not first constituted as such, 
 when it attached to itself the title of Positive to conjure 
 with. Positive Philosophy may be as positive as it 
 will within its circle of certainty and demonstration ; 
 but there can never, for the souls of men not merely 
 bewildered, be anything more to be revered in it than 
 we find in the Multiplication Table, or in the plain 
 Mathematical Axiom that two straight lines cannot 
 enclose a space. (Mr Mill, by the way, supposes that 
 possibly they may — somewhere else.) The attempt to 
 find anything more in it is really no whit less ridicu- 
 lous, than if a delirated Mathematical Sage should go 
 on all his life producing his straight lines, and an- 
 nouncing, in what we could scarce call a 'divine 
 
1 70 The Deity at a Discount. 
 
 despair/ that though a Space was not yet enclosed, 
 perhaps one of these days it would be, and that in fact 
 he was quite positive it would. It seems quite safe to 
 predict that the exaggerated claim made for Science, 
 writing Positive after its name, somewhat as a paltry 
 Parvenu takes a pride in writing himself Esquire, will, 
 one of these days, be smiled at by all intelligent people 
 as merely the innocent deliration of such a Mathemati- 
 cal Sage. Meantime, the phenomenon is curious, as 
 illustrating the depth of the Eeligious Principle. God 
 the Father is plainly, in many quarters extinct as an 
 object of worship. We have found out so many of His 
 ' Laws,' that the difficulty of getting beyond them — 
 more especially for those who have found them out — is 
 one in all seriousness to be admitted. Some grand new 
 ' Law ' being discovered, what more natural than that 
 the Discoverer should assert it distinctly his Law; 
 furiously throttle a fellow-Philosopher pretending to 
 have a priority; and dispute any claim to Priority 
 injuriously asserted for even the Deity Himself? 
 Nothing is more natural and obvious. The Deity is 
 thus a little in abeyance just at present ; and even so 
 exalted a supporter as the Duke of Argyll ^ has not so 
 brought Him into fashion again as one might have been 
 disposed to expect. In these circumstances, it is com- 
 fortable to note the facility with which people who 
 
 [1 The allusion here must have been, I suppose, to the Duke's 
 Reuju of Law, shortly before published. The passage has been 
 censured as irreverent. I cannot myself see it so ; and I should 
 seriously desire to know whether it is to the Deity or the Duke of 
 Argyll that I am supposed to have intended disrespect ?] 
 
Man and Nahire. lyi 
 
 ignore the Deity — to deny Him would be to admit Him 
 as a possible subject of speculation, and pay Him too 
 great a compliment — can take up witb a Mathematical 
 Axiom instead ; and failing the Mathematical Axiom 
 — the discovery being made in mature years that the 
 affections actually exist as the deepest constituents of 
 human Nature — can substitute a Wife or a Mistress.^ 
 
 These frivolities apart, the question of Necessity and 
 Freedom has been, is, and must remain positively 
 central to the whole discussion which from age to age 
 is perpetuated between the Philosophies of Belief and 
 of Scepticism — the essential field of battle, after skir- 
 mishing has been done at the outposts. Freedom, 
 Personality (he who does not admit the terms identical 
 discredits himself as incompetent) this it is which dis- 
 tinguishes Man from dead matter and the brute. Is 
 Man free ? The question is identical with this other 
 one — Is there in man a spiritual element not present 
 in an oyster or other mollusc ? Is man, in Shake- 
 speare's profound and prescient phrase, ' the slave of 
 
 [1 I am not without a horrid dread that Mr Mill (supposing him to 
 have read the little book of which I sent him a copy) may have dimly 
 suspected in this an allusion personal to himself. Had Mr Mill's 
 Autobiography been given to the world when I wrote, such an allu- 
 sion, however held questionable in taste, could not have been called 
 unfair. As it was, had I meant to hint any such matter, a horse- 
 pond or the next pump might appropriately have given me my reward. 
 But I could not intend to allude to matters of which I was ignorant. 
 The allusion was, of course, not to Mr Mill, but to his distinguished 
 confrere, M. Comte, with his glorified Clotilde de Vaux, whom he 
 wished the future world to worship as a substitute for the Virgin 
 Mary.] 
 
172 Man and Nature. 
 
 IvTature/ 1 or its lord ? This is essentially the question 
 of questions in Philosophy ; the question of the Will 
 and its Freedom is essentially the question of questions 
 determinant of any secure settlement of it. So 
 wrangled over as it has been, almost a certain ridicule 
 seems fairly enough directed against any one seriously 
 concerning himself with it. But the ridicule is not 
 the less idle ; the World does not go on sillily wrang- 
 ling for thousands of years about matters of no real 
 importance to it. 
 
 ' ' The slave of Nature and the son of Hell.' — Richard Til. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
175 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Note I. — See p. 11. 
 
 Motiveless ob Uncaused Volition. 
 
 It has always been a favourite line of argument with Neces- 
 sitarians to represent the advocates of Freedom as denying 
 Motives or Causes. Mr Mill, as we have seen, does so ; 
 and in the latest contribution to British thought on this 
 subject — Mr SuUy's interesting and ingenious paper ' On the 
 Genesis of the Free-Will Doctrine" — the same ground is 
 taken. The assumption is made throughout, that a believer 
 in Freedom must needs hold himself committed to it, under 
 the special mode of — to use his own terms — ' the fortuitous 
 ' and unpredictable selection of an undetermined mind or 
 ' will.' 'This,' he says, 'is as good a definition of the 
 ' curious tenet as the present writer is able to frame. And 
 ' to this theory,' he goes on to say, ' which is not only 
 ' unique, but in direct contradiction to the principles by 
 ' which, confessedly, all other departments of phenomena 
 ' are explained, the supporters of Free-will have ijoso facto 
 ' committed themselves.' To such a statement as this, with 
 
 ^ Sensation and Intellect. Studies in Psychology and jEsthetics. 
 By James Sully, M.A. Henry S. King & Co., London. 
 
1 76 Uncaused Volition. 
 
 every respect for Mr Sully, I must beg distinctly to demur. 
 That human volition is unique, in the sense of its being 
 ' exempted from the law of Causation,' which dominates ' all 
 other departments of phenomena,' is plainly an absurd and 
 irrational proposition ; and a philosopher gives himself easy 
 times who seeks to confute an opponent, as committed 
 to it, ipso facto of his belief. 'Many men' {Mill and 
 Garlyle, p. 76) ' will say that at any given time they feel 
 ' themselves free to eat, or not to eat ; but will any man 
 ' say that when he does eat, he eats not because he is 
 'hungry, but "for no reason in particular'" (Mr Mill's 
 pet way of putting it)? 'Plainly there is no such 
 ' blockhead. In the cases, again, in which hunger was 
 ' not the reason of his eating, a man very well knows 
 ' there was some other cause or sufficient reason, failing 
 ' which he would not have eaten. How, this reason sup- 
 ' posed sufficient to make him eat, he should yet have been 
 ' free not to eat, no competent person professes his ability to 
 ' explain.' An incompetent person, who held himself 
 bound to explain, would, no doubt, unless very incompetent, 
 speedily find himself in difficulties ; and in seeking a way 
 out of them, he might not improbably blunder on the an- 
 nouncement of some such ridiculous ' theory ' as that set 
 forth by Mr Sully. Indeed, it is not to be denied that 
 some very profound people have done so. Under stress of 
 a hopeless argument, which sought to make liberty com- 
 prehensible, foolish things may have been written — as in 
 truth a good deal of Philosophy is no more than a record 
 of the ' follies of the "Wise ' — but such clearly ill-considered 
 deliverances ought not to be held good as against other 
 people, who would merely scout and contemn them. ' One 
 ' of the unfairest, though commonest tricks of controversy,' 
 
Uncaused Volition. 177 
 
 writes Mr Mill, ' is that of directing tte attack against tlie 
 ' crudest (first crude) form of a doctrine.' It is a trick of 
 whioli I have shown Mr Mill himself to he guilty, in his 
 polemic against Hamilton in regard of this particular matter; 
 and Mr Sully, as we see, follows him to do evil. (As the 
 merest matter of course, against neither writer do I mean to 
 insinuate unfairness — which the use of the word trick might 
 imply, — merely a little misapprehension in both of the true 
 point of the controversy.) 
 
 Mr Sully having given in set terms ' as good a definition 
 of this curious tenet as he is ahle to frame,' proceeds, in his 
 next sentence — 'At the same time, it must be remarked 
 ' that its advocates have rarely sought to reduce it to a 
 ' precise definitive form' This seems to mean (at least, I 
 can no otherwise understand it) that very few indeed of the 
 advocates of the ' curious tenet ' have ever given any such 
 definition of it, as that to which all of them, according to 
 Mr Sully, have, in their belief, ' Ipso facto committed them 
 selves.' To this ' ipso facto committed ' it is that I particu- 
 larly take objection. I may believe in Free-wUl, or I may 
 not (I am not aware of having ever written a word which 
 pledges me very personally to a belief in it), but supposing I 
 do believe in Free-will, why am I ' ipso facto committed ' to a 
 definition or theory of it, framed for me by Mr Mill or Mr 
 Sully, which seems to me as preposterous and absurd, as it 
 possibly could to either of them ? Surely it is competent 
 for me, as for another, to believe in a thing as a fact (on 
 evidence which seems to me appropriate and suificient), yet 
 decline to hold myself therein ' committed ' to definitions 
 and so-called ' theories ' of it which are forged for me by 
 other people. I may believe in the thing as a fact, whilst 
 seeing in the sharpest and clearest way that, as no rational 
 M 
 
1 78 Freedom an Inexplicable. 
 
 definition or theory of it can ever possibly be substantiated, 
 none had best be put forward ; the thing itself believed in, 
 the express modus or liow of it may be left altogether un- 
 determined. 
 
 Might it be permitted me to quote here (as at p. 152), Mr 
 Mill's wisdom as regards the Ego (more properly, in a sense, 
 the ?ioK-Ego — the Ego which Mr Mill in an exceedingly 
 futile manner, as we have seen, seeks to argue out of exist- 
 ence) % ' I think by far the wisest thing we can do is to 
 ' accept the inexplicahle fact, without any them-y of how it 
 ' takes place ; and when we are obliged to speak of it, in 
 ' terms 2ohich asaume a theory, to use them with a reserva- 
 ' tion as to their meaning.' So of the Will (which i^ the 
 Ego, or — nothing). It is surely allowable for us to believe 
 in the Freedom of the Will as ' an inexplicable fact,' yet 
 ' ipso facto commit ourselves ' to no ridiculous theory of it 
 — a theory of an inexplicable — unless, indeed, an absurd one 
 — -being plainly a contradiction in terms. 
 
 That this was the view of the matter taken by Sir W. 
 Hamilton, I have elsewhere, as against Mr Mill (see Section 
 VII.), sought to demonstrate in extenso. As for Eeid, it is 
 not to be denied that here and there in his reasonings on 
 this subject he does glance, in some helpless way, in the 
 direction of uncaused volition and ' action for no reason in 
 particular.' But almost invariably when he does so, we find 
 him contemptuously reprimanded by Hamilton in a note at 
 the bottom of the page. In elsewhere announcing, as we 
 have seen (p. 10), ' the Man as Cause,' he shows plainly 
 that he saw clearly enough the difficulties of such a posi- 
 tion ; and this special announcement of a Cause (though 
 futile, as I think it, in the extreme) must in fairness be held 
 to protect him against the imputation of holding volitions 
 
View of Mr W. T. Thornton. 1 79 
 
 to be ' fortuitous,' as exempt from the all-including law of 
 Causation. 
 
 By Mr "W. T. Thbrnton, very recently, this subject has 
 been incidentally discussed in his essay on " History's Scien- 
 tific Pretensions ; " ^ and while, on the authority of Con- 
 sciousness, steadily asserting Free-Will, as an ' indisputable 
 reality,' he equally asserts as indisputable that ' human voli- 
 ' tions take place as inevitable effects of antecedent Causes ; ' 
 that ' the Will is absolutely subject to, and must implicitly 
 ' obey Causes.' His doctrine, involving belief at once in 
 Freedom and Necessity (such Necessity, Inevitability — call 
 it what you will — as may be logical inference from Causa- 
 tion) is thus identical with that set forth in the foregoing 
 pages, as essentially (I believe) Sir W. Hamilton's. That 
 Mr Thornton's discussion (incidental and brief as it neces- 
 sarily is) can be held at all points satisfactory; that it faces 
 the full difficulty involved in the very notion of Free- Will, 
 and makes it the least more comprehensible to us, — I shall 
 not very confidently assert. Given a chain of Causal se- 
 quences, in which a particular volition is figured as the last 
 link, liow, as ' the inevitable effect ' of these determining 
 antecedents, is it possible to conceive of it as free, in the 
 sense — the only one which fulfils the definition — that the 
 man could have determined it otherwise 1 The notion is 
 quite plainly to our mere Logic incompetent. 
 
 More lately {vide passage quoted in the Preface) we have 
 seen Professor Cairnes take up essentially the same position ; 
 
 1 Old - Fashioned Ethics, and Common-Sense Metaphysics. By- 
 William Thomas Thornton, author of a treatise ' On Labour. ' London : 
 Macmillan & Co. A book to myself of much interest ; as that of a 
 vigorous and thoroughly independent thinker, who works out every 
 subject for himself, and specially is not to be overborne by any weight 
 of mere authorit)' against him. 
 
i8o Of Professor Cairnes and Dr Carpenter. 
 
 ' a position no doubt unsatisfactory,' but, as it seems to 
 him, 'the only one open under the circumstances.' More 
 lately still, Dr Carpenter (see Contemporary Review, Feb- 
 ruary 1875, article " On the Doctrine of Human Automat- 
 ism") has announced his adhesion to somewhat a similar 
 view. (I quote below the opening passage.) ^ These writers 
 (and the list might doubtless be indefinitely extended), whilst 
 holding, in some more or less distinct sense, a belief in Free- 
 Will — though probably they would all of them decline to 
 give in the abstract any cut and dried definition of it — 
 believe also quite as firmly (not improbably a little more so) 
 
 ^ 'The war between the Ijibertarians and the Necessitarians, the 
 ' partisans of Free-Will and the upholders of Determinism, which has 
 ' been waged for centuries in the provinces of Theology and Meta- 
 ' physics with very little prospect of a definite result, has latterly 
 ' been carried into the domain of Physiology, where the Determinist 
 ' army has found a great accession of strength, not only in the num- 
 ' ber of the recruits who have joined its standard, but in the ability of 
 ' their leaders and the strength of its positions. From the confidence 
 ' with wliich what are asserted to be the inevitable conclusions of 
 ' Physiological Science are now advanced in proof of the Determinist 
 ' hypothesis, it might be supposed that some new facts of peculiar 
 ' importance had been discovered, or some more cogent deductions 
 ' drawn from the facts previously known. But after an attentive re- 
 ' examination of the whole question, I find nothing in the results of 
 ' more recent researches to shake my early-formed conviction of the 
 ' existence of a fundamental distinction, not only between the rational 
 ' actions of sentient beings guided by experience and the aiitomatic 
 ' movements of creatures whose whole life is obviously but the work- 
 ' ing of a mechanism, but also between those actions (common to man 
 ' and intelligent brutes) which are determined by a preponderating 
 ' attraction towards an object present to the consciousness and those 
 ' {^peculiar as J believe to man) in which there is, at one stage or another, 
 ' a distinct intervention of the self-conscious Ego, whereby the direction 
 ' of the activity is modified.' See various other passages — one in par- 
 ticular, in which he speaks of the Determinists as ' seeing only one 
 ' side of the shield.' 
 
Causes by all admitted. 1 8 1 
 
 in the law of Causation, as universal and inclusive of human 
 volition j and to a man they would resent with scorn the 
 imputation that, in announcing their helief in Freedom, 
 they had ' ipso facto committed themselves ' to any such 
 absurd ' definition ' of it, as that which Mr Sully has given 
 us, as ' the best he is able to frame.' It would not be fair 
 to say that Mr Sully is here fighting a phantom of his own 
 creation ; but it seems to me he is kicking a corpse. It is 
 an amusing and harmless recreation — amusing to Mr Sully 
 (as also to some of his readers), and not very seriously doing 
 harm to any one except himself. This ' curious tenet ' — as 
 Mr Sully calls it — curious as it may seem to Mr Sully, is 
 still to some extent believed in ; the Libertarian is not just 
 yet an extinct animal, who has disappeared in the process of 
 Evolution. The ' Scientist ' — as of late he always conceit- 
 edly calls himself — (no such word, I venture to think, can 
 be shown me in any English Dictionary half-a-dozen years 
 old) has not quite yet been able to make away with him ; 
 he is stiU to be found existing under scientific conditions ; 
 and as so existing, a Libertarian who is not also as sound 
 a Determinist (in the sense of admitting motive as cause) 
 as Mr Sully or Mr John Stuart Mill, is, I rather think, a 
 rara avis. 
 
 Since reading Mr Sully, I have rapidly run through again 
 Professor Bain's Historical Sketch of the subject, to which, 
 as ' a very good resume ' of it, Mr Sully himself refers. I do 
 not find that his notion of volitions fortuitous, as indetermi- 
 nate or uncaused, to any great extent figures in it, as expressly 
 announced by the advocates of Eree-WUl. It chiefly turns 
 up as a reductio ad dbsurdum, which is sought to be forced 
 upon them by their opponents. And this use of it is a per- 
 ectly legitimate one. If we must needs conceive of human 
 
1 82 Causes and Freedom. 
 
 Freedom (as apart from our practical hdief of it), it is only 
 thus absurdly that we shall find ourselves able to do so. 
 ' The inconceivability of an absolute commencement,' writes 
 Hamilton, ' on the fact of which commencement the doc- 
 trine of liberty inoceeds ;' meaning only, it is plain, a 
 notional fact, as distinct from a fact of existence, — a notion 
 which, even in trying ' to think it as iruej we ' cannot 
 think as ■possiMe'' — yet the only notion of Freedom com- 
 petent to us, when we seek to evolve it in the lorocess of 
 thought. I am inclined to question whether, in announcing 
 the Will exempted from the law of Causation (and of course 
 the thing has been done), any one can ever have seriously 
 intended more than this. I think it likely that in speaking 
 of Free- Will, 'in terms which assumed this theory,' the 
 philosophers doing so must have used them (see Mr 
 Mill as quoted) ' with a reservation as to their meaning.' 
 It is certain that if any one maintains that, because 
 free volition can only be conceived by us under the 
 mode of absolute or uncaused origination, it is under 
 this mode to be helleved, he ' ijjso facto commits him- 
 self to patent and staring absurdity. Dr Clarke has said 
 (see page 121) that assurance of Freedom is given us 'in 
 every experience of every act we perform ; ' it is at least 
 equally certain (and some may think it rather more so) 
 that in ' every experience of every act we perform ' in full 
 consciousness, we have assurance of motives and causes. 
 And in aid of our detailed experience, the reasoned ' induc- 
 tion from experience ' to the effect that our volitions, like 
 all else, are subject to causative law and order, has the force 
 of a scientific demonstration. Hume, in his essay on the 
 subject (Professor Bain inhis historical resume oddly omits 
 allusion to him), may be held to have once for all shown 
 
Objections to the term Necessity. 183 
 
 this ; and scarce anything has since been written on that 
 side of the question which is not merely a rehash of his 
 argument. Mr Mill's restatement of it (in his chapter against 
 Hamilton) is of course lucid, coficise, and masterly — but all 
 the while merely irrelevant, inasmuch as Hamilton can 
 clearly have never intended at least to enunciate the 
 doctrine against which Mr Mill is arguing. (See Section 
 VII). 
 
 Mr Sully, I observe, deems it of importance — ' following 
 ' excellent examples,' as he thinks them — to ' discard the 
 ' terms ITecessity and Freedom, and employ the expressions 
 ' determined or determinate, with their opposites, because 
 ' the latter confessedly express the real issue of the dispute, 
 ' while the former are very misleading through other and 
 ' irrelevant associations.' Mr Mill makes a great deal of 
 this. ' I perceived ' — see Autobiography as quoted in Pre- 
 face — ' that the word Necessity, as a name for the doctrine 
 ' of Cause and Effect applied to human action carried with 
 ' it a misleading association ; and that this association was 
 ' the operative force in the depressing and paralysing influ- 
 ' ence which I had experienced ; ' and in the chapter I have 
 been engaged in criticisitig, he labours this point a good 
 deal. Professor Bain similarly writes of ' the obnoxious 
 ' terms Liberty and Necessity,' saying that ' much of the 
 ' apparent mystery lies in the employment of this unsuitable 
 ' language ; ' and generally, writers of the school seem to 
 think that by extrusion of these terms a good deal has 
 really been done to elucidate this abstruse subject. Earlier, 
 it had occurred to Dugald Stewart that if ' the word Neces- 
 sity ' were only recognised as ' in this discussion altogether 
 unmeaning and insignificant, the whole system of Spinoza,' 
 with aU its ' most alarming conclusions,' would, j^^esto 1 
 
184 Answer to these. 
 
 become 'nothing better than a rope of sand' — -which is 
 certainly a ' short and easy method ' of disposing of poor 
 Spinoza. Professor Huxley, also, when he writes — ' Fact 
 ' I know, and Law I know ; but what is Necessity but 
 ' an empty shadow of the mind's own throwing ? ' seems 
 to suspect in the word some mysterious power to do evil 
 in the way of misleading mankind. It is perhaps a little 
 bold to say such a thing ; but it seems to me the only 
 people who have ever been seriously misled in the matter are 
 they who suppose, as above, that by getting rid of the mere 
 word Necessity, they get rid of one iota of the difficulties 
 which have always beset the subject. In saying that human 
 actions are in the opposite doctrine held necessary, no ad- 
 vocate of Freedom can ever possibly have meant more than 
 that they are held to be inevitable, as determined ; and no 
 consistent Causationist, in saying that actions are deter- 
 mined, can possibly ever mean less than this. If any action 
 is said to have been evitable, hoii}, I desire to be informed, 
 should this have been so, save on the opposite hypothesis 
 of Freedom, or by the supposed interpolation of other causes 
 than those in the case really present? — and nobody wiU 
 undertake to inform me. Substitute, then, for the ' ob- 
 noxious term Necessary ' inevitable — for Necessity, inevita- 
 bility — the whole matter remains as it was ; and it is not 
 quite easy to see ground of escape, as Mr MiU did, from 
 the ' moral paralysis and depression ' which afflicted him 
 in the other phraseology. 
 
 And what, let me ask, are the so-called 'misleading 
 associations ' with this ' obnoxious word Necessity V 'It 
 ' signifies in its common employment compulsion,' says Mr 
 Mill (Mill on Hamilton), physical coercion or constraint. 
 Elsewhere, says Mr Mill (see Logic), — ' It involves more 
 
Answer to these. 185 
 
 ' than mere uniformity of sequence, it implies irresistible- 
 ' ness.' That Necessity (the word) ' signifies ia the common 
 employment compulsion,' is, I think, an inaccurate state- 
 ment. What it signifies ' in its common employment ' is, if 
 I mistake not, inevitahility as before suggested — a conviction 
 in the mind of the man using it that by no possibility (on 
 this theory) could the fact as it happened have been other- 
 wise ; and in. this signification there is nothing whatever to 
 ' mislead.' Again, says Mr MUl, ' it (the word Necessity) 
 ' involves more than mere uniformity of sequence ; it implies 
 ' irresistibleness.' Supposing it does imply or involve irresis- 
 tibleness (as of course it does), it implies and involves no- 
 thing more than the law of Causation itself does, for people 
 who have really grasped it once for all in its Universality, 
 and having done so, can heep a firm hold of it. But this 
 Mr Mill cannot do, nor apparently any of the gentlemen 
 who choose to sail in the same leaky boat with him. ' Mr 
 ' Mill,' says Mr Sully, ' has very ably put this part of the 
 ' argument in its true light, showing that though the fact ' 
 (of unexplained variabilities in conduct) ' disproves necessity, 
 ' or irresistible sequence, unsusceptible of counteraction or 
 ' modification, it does not touch the question of causality ' (as 
 if any one ever supposed it did, save as ignorant of the ABC 
 of the subject). So little ' able ' is Mr Mill's argument at 
 this point, so far as I am ' able ' to understand it, that I re- 
 gard it (differing in this from Mr Sully) as nothing better 
 than a tissue of the grossest confusions. 
 
 Somewhat to the like effect. Professor Bain (Mental and 
 Moral Science, p. 422), 'And lastly ' (the context is in the 
 present reference irrelevant), ' since we are at the scientific 
 ' point of view, there is strongly suggested the conception of 
 ' resistless sequence — a notion strictly applicable to many 
 
1 85 Causal Sequences resistible. 
 
 ' material phenomena, but incorrect as to human actions' 
 Professor Bain, in so writing, considers he ' is at the scien- 
 tific point of view ; ' had he said the zmscientifio point of 
 view, his Science would perhaps have been a little sounder. 
 Will either Professor Bain or Mr Sully (as both stand bound 
 to do) produce me an instance of human action in the past 
 (and as in the past, so in the future) in which the causal 
 sequence was ' resistible, as susceptible of counteraction or 
 modification ' ? It will be at their proper peril as Causa- 
 tionists that they commit themselves to any such attempt. 
 Two minutes' consideration of the — Iwiu resistible, except by 
 a change supposed in the antecedents, in the implication of 
 other causes 1 — will be sufficient to warn them away from it. 
 Then why should either of them so write 1 Echo will not 
 improbably be left to answer. 
 
 In brief, to allege resistihility of a causal sequence is to 
 allege alterah'dity in the result : irresistibility in the sequence 
 implies the inevitable — the unalterable, as regards the result ; 
 resistihility, the evitable, or in result alterable. If any 
 one can see a logical distinction between these, he has the 
 advantage of me in the matter of intellectual subtlety ; but 
 it is an advantage I do not greatly envy him, and am will- 
 ing that he should retain. And this of the alterable and 
 unalterable in human action I have already discussed with 
 Mr Mill, so as to make further remark on it unnecessary. 
 (Vide section VIIL, pp. 83-87. See also, as to Mr Mill's 
 notion of moral causes ' being never uncontrollable,' note, 
 p. 82.) The truth of the matter might seem to be, 
 that while Mr Mill and his disciples constantly keep 
 twitting their opponents (as I have tried to show, un- 
 permittedly) with denying the universality of Causation 
 in order to maintain Freedom, they themselves per- 
 
Hume s Doctrine of Ca^lsat^on. 187 
 
 sistently imply a denial of it, in order to evade the 
 moral difficulty. 
 
 As to Mr Mill's notion that because in Causation (sup- 
 posing it were so, as Hume sceptically suggests) there is no 
 nexus, or ' mysterious tie,' between a cause and its effect, 
 — nothing but mere ' uniformity of sequence,' — the moral 
 bearings of the argument are altered, I should prefer not to 
 discuss it. As to Hume's so-called Doctrine or Theory of 
 Causation (as if a sceptical suggestion could accurately be 
 called either a Doctrine or a Theory), a great deal of the 
 merest nonsense has been written, of which, in my own 
 person, I desire to avoid making increment.^ I shall only 
 
 ^ With some diffidence I allow myself merely two words or so on 
 the subject. Certain sequences are found in our experience indefin- 
 itely variable ; certain other sequences are so found invariable. To 
 these last we appropriate the term causal in the understood sense. 
 And now, whence or how this invariability experienced — and, as 
 hitherto experienced, with a confidence which is absolute, antici- 
 pated — in certain sequences termed causal, and not in others ? Reason 
 here, as everywhere, inquires, and cannot but inquire, the how of the 
 business — the rational ground of the phenomenon. To put it a little 
 in the scholastic way — abstraction being made of the invariability 
 from the concrete cases, in all of which it is present, we may logically 
 figure it as an effect, some cause of which must be assigned. And on 
 the slightest inquiry as to the catise of this invariability vouched to us 
 by our experience in certain sequences and not in others, we shall 
 find ourselves inevitably driven on the Jiexus of power, competently 
 questioned by Hume, as reasoning from his premises assumed ; incom- 
 petently, as I think, denied by Brown, Mill, and the rest, who, ac- 
 cepting Hume's sceptical doubt, have deepened it to the dogmatic 
 ground. That between a Cause and its Effect no nexus is obvious 
 to sense it was simply for Hume to point out, with the sceptical 
 suggestion on his received principles implied in this. That, under 
 the Causal relation itself, the nexus thus called in question was a 
 necessary inference of reamn, it would be stupid, T think, to suppose 
 that Hume himself was so stupid as not very clearly to see ; though 
 from his point of view assumed of the Sceptic, it was not for him to 
 
1 88 The Inevitable. 
 
 say tliat, so long as these ' uniformities of sequence ' con- 
 tinue uniform, as they seem likely yet a while to do, the 
 logic of this business remains precisely as it would he, 
 in admission of the nexus of power denied. At least 
 I can no otherwise see it. The inevitable must in either 
 case be admitted, as involved in the ' Law of Causation.' 
 In either case, to seek to evade this inference of the 
 Inevitable is implicitly to rush upon denial of the uni- 
 versality of the Law. And this Inevitable announced is 
 all that any rational creature can ever have meant in 
 his use of ' the obnoxious term N"ecessity,' in setting 
 forth the plea for Freedom. 
 
 indicate this. ' I hope I can answer my own doubts. ' ' If, in order 
 ' to answer my doubts, new principles of Philosophy must be laid, ' 
 &c. (See page 234.) 
 
Moral Respo7tsibility. 189 
 
 Note II.— See p. 62. 
 
 {Mill and Carlyle, p. 45 et seq.) 
 
 ' And now of Moral Eesponsibility, and this latest attempt 
 of Mr Mill to harmonise it, as an admitted fact of Conscious- 
 ness, with his scheme of Causationism, as exclusive of 
 human freedom, defined an Ability in man to act otherwise 
 than as he does act. "What,'' asks Mr Mill, "is meant by 
 " Moral Eesponsibility '? Eesponsibility means Punishment. 
 " When we are said to have the feeling of being morally 
 " responsible for our actions, the idea of being punished for 
 "them is uppermost in the speaker's mind." When Mr 
 Mill, having asked in the first sentence — " What is meant 
 by moral responsibility ? " answers in the second — " Ee- 
 " sponsibility means punishment ;" and goes on in the third 
 to speak of our "feeling of being morally responsible," 
 nobody could at first sight interpret him otherwise than as 
 speaking of Moral Eesponsibility throughout. But in the 
 light of the distinction he makes a little farther on between 
 " the belief that we shall be made accountable, and the 
 " belief that we ought so to be," the last of which only it is 
 which "can be deemed to require or presuppose the Free- 
 will hypothesis," there seems ground to suspect that by 
 Eesponsibility, as used in the second sentence, he means 
 Eesponsibility simple, as distinguished from the Moral 
 
1 90 The Simple Responsibility and the Moral. 
 
 Eesponsibility indicated in the first and third. i But surely, 
 if this be so, Mr Mill in this all-important point of definition, 
 is guilty of no little slovenliness. For, of course, he must 
 very well know — as himself frequently so using the word — 
 that when, without qualification, we speak of Eesponsibility, 
 it is Moral Eesponsibility we expect to be understood to 
 mean. Wherefore, from this in the first sentence he was 
 clearly bound to formally distinguish it in the second, and 
 again to distinguish in the third by " When we are said on 
 " the. other hand" or some such equivalent of contrast. The 
 truth might almost seem to be, that indicating the distinction 
 between the simple Eesponsibility and the moral one, he 
 was content with a most confused indication of it, as feeling 
 in some semi-conscious way that it would not in the least 
 suit him to elaborate it into clearness. As the distinction, 
 so simple as it seems, is really one of quite cardinal import- 
 ance for the argument, let us do for it in a cursory way 
 what it did not suit Mr Mill to do. Any Imperative which 
 has force to make itself effective wiU constitute a Eespon- 
 sibility in the subject of it ; only a Moral Imperative can 
 constitute a Moral Eesponsibility. To illustrate in an easy 
 way — in the case of a tyrannical schoolboy, who says to a 
 little fellow not his fag — for over Mm there would be some 
 
 1 This, of course, must be Mr Mill's meainng. " What is meant hy 
 " Moral Responsibility? Responsibility means Punishment. "When we 
 " are said to have the feeling of being morally responsible for our 
 ' ' actions, the idea of being punished for them is uppermost in the 
 speaker's mind. " But the idea of punishment being uppermost, implies, 
 of course, some correlative idea as undermost in the mind of said speaker. 
 Being "moraH?/ responsible" includes therefore something more than 
 is given in the Responsibility which merely "means punishment." 
 Let this distinction by Mr Mill liimself — however loosely — indicated 
 be carefully kept in view. 
 
Distinction between these. 191 
 
 semblance at least of right — " Go to my bed, you young 
 " hound ! and warm it for me, till I come, or if you don't, 
 "I'll thrash the life out of you,"- — an Imperative is 
 announced by the big fellow, and it constitutes a Eespon- 
 sibility in the little one, inasmuch as he knows, if he refuses, 
 he will be made to answer for his conduct. This, as a mere 
 appeal to fear, is the simple or tride imperative as dis- 
 tinguished from the human or Moral Imperative, whose 
 appeal is to our moral judgments of merit and demerit in 
 conduct. If, instead of telling him to warm his bed for him, 
 the big fellow had said to the little- — " Go rob me Farmer 
 Hodge's orchard, and bring me hither the apples," the 
 little fellow would have found himself the subject of the 
 Brute and the Moral Imperatives in conflict, and would have 
 had to elect which of them to obey. Again, there are mixed 
 Imperatives, in which the two elements may coinhere in 
 proportions indefinitely variable. Such are the authority 
 exercised by a parent over a child, and that of the law 
 prohibitive of crime on penalty. With the first of these 
 we are not here directly concerned. As to the Law, in so 
 far as its appeal is to fear simpliciter, it is important to note 
 it as merely a form of the lower or Brute Imperative ; and 
 though in most minds this more or less connects itself with 
 some form of the higher or Moral one, the essential distinc- 
 tion between them is not thereby aff'ected. A caitiff who 
 refrains from murder solely because he dreads being hanged 
 for it, is the mere slave of the Brute imperative ; he, on the 
 other hand, to whom " Thou shalt not kill " comes as a 
 clear mandate of his moral nature, is indeed, in virtue of 
 the accompanying threat, also a subject of the lower Impera- 
 tive, but more or less he is made free of its jurisdiction by 
 the life within him of the higher one. Xow, the clear dis- 
 
192 Confused by Mr Mill. 
 
 tinction between these, -which, is untouched by the fact that 
 they may efficiently coexist in proportions varying in vari- 
 ous minds, Mr Mill has seen fit to indicate only to confound 
 it. In his preliminary definitions it is slurred ; and through- 
 out the subsequent discussion it is never steadily kept in 
 view, the word responsibility (or accountability, as it may 
 be), being used indifferently to imply the simple or the 
 moral one, so that which of the two is really meant it is 
 sometimes not easy to know. And in thus playing fast 
 and loose with the distinction, Mr Mill has in one sense 
 done wisely, inasmuch as he could not have clearly and 
 consistently exhibited it without exhibiting along with' it 
 the inconsequence of his whole argument. For, standing 
 pledged as he does to constitute for us on the principle of 
 M"ecessity the Moral Imperative, in order to maintain the 
 validity of which it is that his opponents postulate Freedom, 
 he constitutes for us in that argument only the simple or 
 Brute Imperative, our social right to exercise which is in- 
 ferred from the efficacy of fear simpliciter as a motive. This 
 we proceed to show.^ 
 
 ' " It is not," writes Mr Mill, " the belief that we shall bo 
 
 \} See— as to the distinction in the above insisted on — Mr Mill's 
 last Essay " On Theism," only the other day published. " A rule to 
 which we feel it a duty to conform, has in common with laws, com- 
 monly so called, the fact of claiming our obedience ; but it does not 
 follow that the rule must originate, like the laws of the land, in the 
 will of a legislator or legislators external to the mind. We may even 
 say that a feeling of obligation which is merely the result of a com,- 
 mand is not what is meant by moral obligation, which, on the contrary, 
 supposes something that the internal conscience bears witness to as bind- 
 ing in its own nature. " 
 
 Nothing can be clearer than this ; and this last, or moral obli- 
 gation, of which Mr Mill here expressly has pledged himself to treat, 
 it will be found that he ignores in his argument.] 
 
Mr Mill defines the Real Question. 1 93 
 
 " made accountable for our actions, whicli can te deemed to 
 " require or presuppose tlie Free-wUl hypothesis ; it is the 
 " belief that we ought so to be ; that we are justly account- 
 " able; that guilt deserves punishment. It is here that the 
 " main issue is joined between the two opinions." And 
 again — " The real question is one of Justice ; the legitimacy 
 " of retribution or punishment." Mr Mill, having thus 
 stated the " main issue " and the " real question," it seemed 
 reasonable to suppose that accepting these ideas (of " guilt 
 deserving punishment " — of Justice involving " the legiti- 
 macy of retribution,") as given in our moral consciousness, 
 he proposed to show that, in their own nature, said ideas 
 did 7iot of needs presuppose the hypothesis of Freedom, but 
 that an adequate basis could be found for them in the rival 
 scheme of Necessity. This, however, is only in part the 
 case. In the course of the discussion, Mr Mill says that he 
 " can find no argument to justify" punishment inflicted on 
 the principle of "a natural affinity between the ideas of 
 " guilt and punishment, which makes it intrinsically fitting 
 " that wherever there has been guilt, pain should be in- 
 " flicted by way of retribution." The " main issue" being 
 as to a "justly accountable " in the sense that " guUt de- 
 " serves punishment," — " the real question " one of " Justice 
 " — the legitimacy of retribution," it might seem that the 
 idea of Eetribution being thus explicitly discarded, that of 
 Justice, by Mr Mill himself given as its moral equivalent, 
 must needs be dissipated along with it, so that there is no 
 longer before us any question whatever. But with Justice 
 Mr MiU is indisposed to part company. Eeserving formal 
 remark on this disjunction in the process of his argument of 
 ideas in his premises identified, let us see how Mr MUl suc- 
 ceeds in his attempt to substantiate the idea of Justice. 
 K 
 
1 94 Evades the Real Question. 
 
 ' " The real question is one of justice, — the legitimacy of 
 " retribution or punishment. On the theory of Necessity, 
 " we are told, man cannot help acting as he does ; and it 
 " cannot be just that he should be punished for what he 
 " cannot help. !N"ot if the expectation of punishment en- 
 " ables him to help it, and is the only means by which he 
 " can be enabled to help iil To say that he cannot help 
 " it, is true or false according to the qualification with which 
 " the assertion is accompanied. Supposing him to be of 
 " a vicious disposition, he cannot help doing the criminal 
 " act, if he is allowed to believe that he will be able to 
 " commit it unpunished. If, on the contrary, the impres- 
 " sion is strong on his mind that a heavy punishment will 
 " follow, he can, and in most cases does, help it. There 
 " are two ends which, on the !N"ecessitarian theory, are suffi- 
 " cient to justify punishment ; the benefit of the offender 
 " himself, and the protection of others." 
 
 ' All which is most lucid and exact, but with " the real 
 " question of Justice," whereof Mr Mill supposes himself to 
 be discoursing, has literally nothing whatever to do. The 
 Justice of which Mr Mill stands pledged to treat is Moral 
 Justice, in its severe regard of the past, inflicting punish- 
 ment as deserved ; and for this Mr Mill, as he proceeds, 
 quietly substitutes a simple expediency as respects the 
 future. 1 The feat of logical legerdemain is facilitated by an 
 
 ^ We, of course, cannot be unaware that in this reference to ex- 
 pediency we niay he held to be running our head inadvertently 
 against Mr Mill's Utilitarian theory of Morals ; but that Mr Mill in 
 his own person cannot object to the distinction made here, will be 
 evident from these snatches from his work on the subject — "This 
 " seems the real turning-point between morality and simple expedi- 
 " ency "^"The distinction between the feeling of right and wrong and 
 "that of ordinary expediency,"— and mure explicitly— " Is then the 
 
Evasion of the Real Question. 195 
 
 ambiguity in terms. There is Justice as above defined : 
 there is the justice of a remark or an anticipation j we 
 speak of a just (as a fit or expedient) arrangement ; and we 
 consider we justify an action when we prove it negatively 
 permissible. Any one may see at a glance that in the pas- 
 sage quoted, Mr Mill's reasoning succeeds in at all connect- 
 ing itself with " the real question " solely by a disgraceful 
 jumble of such various meanings of the word. Mr Mill, 
 when asked whether it hejitst, i.e., deserved,^ in the sense in 
 which " guilt deserves punishment " — that a man should be 
 punished for what he could not help in the past, considers 
 he replies in the affirmative, when he says it is expedient to 
 punish him, as we flog an uncleanly cur to improve its man- 
 ners in the future. Of the following instance of the confusion 
 what is to be said 1 — " Free-will or no free-will, it is just to 
 " punish men for this purpose (of protection), exactly as it 
 " is just to put a wild beast to death for the same purpose." 
 This only, that these same wild beasts to which Mr Mill 
 seems partial,^ have been known in the rage of hunger to 
 make away with a philosopher ; and farther, that the man 
 who should speak of a shot tiger, as having "justly met its 
 doom,'' exactly in the sense of the words as applied by him 
 to a human miscreant, would simply prove he had either 
 
 "difference between the Just and the Expedient a merely imaginary 
 " distinction ? By no means. The exposition we have given of the 
 "nature and origin of the sentiment recognises a real distinction." 
 
 ■'■ " It is universally considered y!«i that each person should obtain 
 ' ' that (whetlier good or evil) which he deserves ; and unjust that he 
 " should obtain a good, or be made to undergo an evil which he does 
 "not deserve. This is perhaps the clearest and most emphatic form 
 " in which the idea of Justice is conceived by the general mind." — 
 Vide Mill's " Utilitarianism," page 65. 
 
 ^ The allusion is to Mill's passage glanced at (pp. 103-105), "nox- 
 ious beasts, &c.," and my criticism of it which had preceded. 
 
196 Verbal Fallacies. 
 
 some twist in his moral perceptions, or was grossly ignorant 
 of language. Again — what of this % " To punish a man 
 " for his own good, provided the inflicter has any proper 
 " title to constitute himself a judge, is no more unjust than 
 " to administer medicine ! " Has the giving of medicine to 
 a patient any relation whatever to Justice 1 Clearly not — 
 unless, indeed, the patient has paid a fee for it, in which 
 case the doctor would doubtless Yte unjust, if he fraudulently 
 refused to fulfil his part of the bargain. Otherwise, how- 
 ever it might be proper and humane to administer medicine, 
 improper and inhuman not to administer it, to speak of its 
 being given or withheld as either just or unjust, is merely 
 to pass an outrage on the accepted meaning of terms. It 
 is easy for a man at this rate allowed him, to prove what- 
 ever he pleases. If, in using the word white, he means 
 in one sentence white, blue perhaps in the next, and green 
 as it may chance in a third, naturally he puzzles you a 
 little, somewhat as Mrs Quickly did Falstaif — you " know 
 " not where to have him." " In the present case," writes 
 Mr Mill a little previously, " there is more than a verbal 
 " fallacy, but verbal fallacies also contribute their part." 
 Undoubtedly they do ; verbal fallacies contribute, in point 
 of fact, the main part of Mr Mill's argument. 
 
 ' " Not if the expectatioji of punishment enables him to 
 " help it," &c. This clause has, indeed, a correspondence 
 with "the belief that we shall be made accountable for 
 " our actions," by Mr Mill himself, as we saw, set aside as 
 irrelevant to the discussion ; its relation to the " main 
 " issue " involved in our " being justly made accountable," 
 and the fact " that guilt deserves punishment," is by no 
 means quite so obvious. Of the simple or Brute Impera- 
 tive, justifiably (permissibly) announced by society for its 
 
Of the Moral Imperative no trace. 197 
 
 own ends, an instance is here admitted ; but of the Moral 
 Imperative there is as yet no hint ; and the only Justice 
 involved is a consideration of social expediency, which 
 justifies (or makes permissible) our announcement of the im- 
 perative of fear ; a consideration in no respect of principle 
 to be distinguished from that which is the ground of our 
 flogging a cur to teach it to respect the carpet. The cur 
 alike and the man here are mere slaves of the Brute Impera- 
 tive. " Suppose him to be of vicious disposition," and so 
 on. In nothing of all this have we got beyond the first 
 rude motive of fear, as we may find it urgent on occasion in 
 the basest of the lower animals. Of the higher, or Moral 
 Imperative, the keenest partisan of Mr Mill will seek in 
 vain for a trace throughout his entire discussion, saving as 
 he seems at times to imply that out of the primitive element 
 of the Brute Imperative, it is possible psychologically to 
 grow the Moral one ; a point which will afterwards turn up 
 for consideration. 
 
 ' Further — " There are two ends which, on the Necessi- 
 " tarian theory, are sufficient to justify punishment; the 
 " benefit of the offender himself, and the protection of 
 " others." That it may be justifiable to punish a man for 
 his own good, as we conceive it, even though he should not 
 deserve punishment, is perhaps with limitations to be ad- 
 mitted — limitations which we should expect Mr MUl, of all 
 men, as the author of the noble Tractate " On Liberty," to 
 recognise very sharply. But solely in virtue of the man's 
 deserving the punishment can we accurately call it jtist. To 
 justify any course of conduct, punitive or other, is, as we 
 have before said, to prove it negatively permissible — to prove 
 it not in any flagrant sense unjust ; it may also, of course, 
 be to prove it positively proper, its propriety having been 
 
igS Just and Unjiist. 
 
 called in question. But countless things are proper, and 
 even obligatory, the obligation to -wbicli is not one of Justice ; 
 countless things are not unjust, to speak of which as just 
 could be only to incur ridicule. But wherefore labour a 
 matter, Mr Mill's fallacy in regard of which is obvious in 
 his own illustration, already in the casual way glanced at 1 
 " To punish him for his own good is no more unjust than 
 " to administer medicine.'" To administer medicine to a 
 patient is not unjust ; also it is not unjust to shave one's 
 self of a morning. Yet — the question of fee in the former 
 case apart — the relation to positive Justice is, in the two 
 cases, identical ; it is in both a purely negative relation — 
 no relation at all. Here, as throughout the discussion, it is 
 the whim of Mr Mill to disport himself some miles from 
 " the real question," as we have seen it by himself indicated. 
 Again, as to punishment which has for its end " the pro- 
 tection of others," it seems plain that, justly or even justi- 
 fiably — pace Mr Mill, there is between the two a slight dis- 
 tinction — we could not inflict it on a man who had in no 
 sense deserved punishment. On occasion of a murder, for 
 instance, the real culprit being non inventus, we could 
 scarcely clutch hold of a rough at random and hang him for 
 it. For protective purposes — the public presumed ignorant 
 of the little deceit practised on it — the innocent rough 
 would be excellent ;' yet Justice for those behind the scenes 
 would surely receive in his dying struggles no very sublime 
 illustration. Clearly, as it seems to us, for no social end to 
 be served by it, could we justly inflict punishment, save in 
 virtue of that evil desert in the subject of it, which consti- 
 tutes the punishment in some sort a retributive one. Touch- 
 ing this evil desert it is, that, according to Mr Mill, " the 
 ^ As to this, see Section V., p. 49. 
 
yust and Unjust. 1 99 
 
 " main issue is joined between the two opinions." But no- 
 where does Mr Mill join issue on it ; he evades it here and 
 throughout. Of " punishment as a precaution taken by 
 " society in self-defence '' here is accurately the sum of 
 what Mr Mill has to say. " To make this just, the only 
 " condition required is, that the end which society is at- 
 " tempting to enforce by punishment should be a just one. 
 " Used as a means of aggression by society on the just rights 
 " of the individual, punishment is unjust. Used to pro- 
 " teot the just rights of others against unjust aggression 
 " by the offender, it is just. If it is possible to have just 
 " rights, it cannot be unjust to defend them." Eeaders 
 must be left to find their way as they can in this jungle 
 of justs and unjusts ; we must really decline to enter it 
 with them. Yet, timidly treading its outskirts, let us 
 just glance at the last sentence. It is possible, we sup- 
 pose, to have "just rights;" but a master of English like 
 Mr Mill would, we think, be unlikely to use such a phrase, 
 unless under the mask of a tautology he wished to insinuate 
 a sophism. Did ever any one hear of unjust rights, or of 
 just wrongs ?i Farther, — the rights being admitted just 
 rights, not unjust ones, we are told " it cannot be unjust to 
 " defend them." And of course it cannot, if justice be con- 
 sulted in the means employed to defend them. But it is 
 
 1 "Just rights," though unquestionably it is tautological, is such a 
 common and authorised way of speaking, that it was hardly worth 
 while to comment on it. Mr Mill, however, in so far admits the little 
 point made against hira, that in his later editions he inserts the par- 
 enthesis — "If it he possible to have just rights (which is the same 
 thing as to have rights at all)." Why, then, in a severe argument 
 about Justice — except to confuse the discussion — use the critical word 
 just, as Mr Mill seems to admit he has here done, superfluously and 
 without meaning ? 
 
200 Just and Unjust. 
 
 possible to defend tliem unjustly. As instance already 
 given, we might defend them most effectively by hanging 
 innocent people, or poor unhappy maniacs. But to such a 
 display of social " vigour " Mr Mill would almost certainly 
 decline to give the sanction of his great name. Consequent- 
 ly, what he must be held here to mean is, not that our 
 "just rights" — such of our rights, that is, as do not chance 
 to be wrongs — "it cannot be unjust to defend" by any 
 means that may lie to our hand ; but that it cannot be un- 
 juitt in us to defend them justly. The tautology in the first 
 clause of the sentence is thus, it seems, of no avail for Mr 
 Mill's purpose, except in virtue of a suppressed tautology 
 in the second, too flagrant to be put upon paper. Surely 
 farther remark is here unnecessary ; the more so, that, as in 
 the previous case, Mr Mill's own concluding illustration, 
 already en passant commented on, sufficiently defines his 
 position. " Free-will or no free-will, it is just to punish 
 " for protection exactly as it is just to put a wQd beast to 
 " death for the same object." In this identification, in so 
 far forth, of the man and the wild beast, there is a ground, 
 of course, for the announcement of the Brute Imperative ; 
 but we had thought it was the Moral Imperative which Mr 
 Mill was engaged in elucidating for us. 
 
 ' When we said above that the consideration of desert was 
 throughout evaded by Mr Mill, we were not rigorously ac- 
 curate. It is touched lightly in one passage, which must be 
 quoted, otherwise we should be liable to the suspicion of 
 wilful unfairness to Mr Mill. 
 
 ' " Now the primitive consciousness we are said to have 
 " that we are accountable for our actions, and that, if we 
 "violate the rule of right, we shall deserve punishment, I 
 "contend is nothing else than our Imowledge that punishment 
 
yustice and Desert. 20 1 
 
 "will hejiist; that by such conduct we shall place ourselves 
 " in the position, in which our fellow- creatures, or the Deity, 
 " or hoth, wiU naturally, and ma,j justly, inflict punishment 
 "upon us.'' 
 
 ' Now, what does Mr MiL. mean by Justice, Jiist, &c. 1 We 
 don't ask what in the course of his discussion he means — 
 for this is a metaphysical inquiry of quite too subtle and 
 complex a kind — but what is he bound to mean by the words 
 as by himself defined in his premises? "The real question 
 "is one of Justice; the legitimacy of Eetribution." "The 
 " belief that we are justly accountable ; that guilt deserves 
 "punishment. It is here that the main issue is joined be- 
 " tween the two opinions." Just punishment is certainly here 
 deserved punishment. Also in the note at page 195 we have 
 elsewhere seen Mr Mill shut himself up to this meaning of 
 the word ; and if another note to the like effect be needed for 
 behoof of desert and Eetribution, the reader has it below.'- 
 
 ' Wherefore, if anywhere in his discussion Mr Mill is found 
 using the word just, except as including the idea of desert, 
 unless in doing so he defines the precise shade of difference 
 in the new meaning intended, he is to be held utterly inex- 
 cusable, as condescending to use for our bewilderment the 
 stalest trick of the sophist. Holding Mr Mill, then, strictly 
 to his own definitions of the word Just, what in effect do 
 we here find him writing 1 " The consciousness we are said 
 "to have that we shall deserve punishment, I contend, is 
 
 ' " Retribution, or evil for evil, becomes closely connected with the 
 " sentiment of Justice, and is universally included in the idea " (p. 89). 
 " The principle, therefore, of giving to each what they deserve, that is, 
 "good for good, evil for evil, is not only included within the idea of 
 " Justice, as we have defined it, but is a proper object of that inten- 
 " sity of sentiment which places the Just, in human estimation, above 
 " the simply Expedient" (p. 90). — Mr Mill's " Utilitarianism." 
 
202 Dilemma. 
 
 " nothing more than our knowledge that punishment will 
 " be deserved ; that our fellow-creatures, &c., may deservedly 
 " inflict punishment on us." ISTo great need to contend 
 here ; the most contentious opponent Mr MiU is likely to 
 encounter will scarcely care to dispute with him as to a de- 
 served punishment being a deserved one. And now, does 
 or does not Mr Mill in his argument maintain that " guilt 
 deserves punishment ? " We profess that after reading Mr 
 Mill repeatedly with our best care, we do not in the least 
 know ; and it is even our notion, it might puzzle himself 
 very much to say whether he does or not. The following 
 dilemma is proposed to him, in terms of his own initial 
 statement of the dispute, — If guUt does not deserve punish- 
 ment, what becomes of his argument for Moral accountability, 
 as distinguished from the accountability simple, which 
 merely "means punishment," or the being "made account- 
 "able"? Plainly it is nowhere; in the "issue joined be- 
 " tween the two opinions," the one of which holds that, 
 Freedom apart, Moral Responsibility is without a basis ; the 
 other, that without Freedom, it is stiU logically to be sub- 
 stantiated, — the latter, or Mr Mill's opinion, has experienced 
 ignominious rout, and no longer holds the field. On the 
 other hand, if a man thoroughly does deserve punishment, 
 might he not in equity be punished, simply and finally 
 on that ground, apart from those ulterior ends — " the benefit 
 " of the offender himself, and the protection of others " — 
 by which alone punishment, according to Mr Mill, can " on 
 the Necessitarian, theory be justified " 1 And if not, in what 
 intelligible sense can he be said to deserve punishment 1 
 Such are the hopeless difiiculties in which — unless language 
 is to be emptied of meaning in his favour — Mr Mill has 
 here contrived to enmesh himself. 
 
yustice and Retribution. 203 
 
 'Tedious as it is to track Mr Mill through all his 
 doublings, and oppressive as the reader may he beginning 
 to find this part of the subject, it seems necessary to proceed 
 with it a little. To quote Mr MiU further, — " If any one 
 " thinks there is justice in the infliction of purposeless suffer- 
 " ing ; that there is a natural affinity between the two ideas 
 " of guilt and punishment, which makes it intrinsically 
 " fitting that wherever there has been guilt, pain should be 
 " inflicted by way of retribution ; I confess that I can find 
 " no argument to justify punishment infiicted on this 
 " principle. As a legitimate satisfaction to feeUngs of 
 " indignation and resentment, which are on the whole 
 " salutary, and worthy of cultivation, I can in certain cases 
 " admit it ; but here it is still a means to an end. The 
 " merely retributive view of punishment derives no justifica- 
 " tion from the doctrine I support." 
 
 ' " The merely retributive view of punishment." But does 
 not in this word merely — if it be taken to mean anything— 
 Mr Mill virtually concede a retributive element at least in 
 punishment ; an evil desert in the culprit, failing of which, 
 not even as " a means to an end " could we justly visit him 
 with punishment ? Is not something of the kind implied, 
 too, in describing as " legitimate '' the " satisfaction to feel- 
 " ings of indignation" conveyed in the infliction of punish- 
 ment? and could the satisfaction be held " legitimate," such 
 punishment being supposed undeserved ? Unless by his 
 guilt a man deserves punishment, could we justly for our 
 own ends inflict it? And if guilt be admitted to deserve 
 punishment, is not this equivalent to an admission of the 
 " natural affinity between the ideas of guilt and punishment," 
 above by Mr MiU denied ? At the same time, while we 
 contend that the idea of punishment as in any accurate sense 
 
204 Crime for Conscience' sake. 
 
 just, is that of punisliment deserved, and as such, in some 
 strict sense, retributive, " merely retributive Punisliment " 
 we should perhaps not venture to inflict, except in the in- 
 dulgence of personal passion, or strong sympathy v?ith such 
 in others. Othervrise, no more than Mr MiU can we " find 
 "argument to justify it." Even when clearly convinced of 
 its justiae, we might yet shrink from it as unjustifiable, on 
 the general principle of humanity, which forbids " the in- 
 " fliction of purposeless suffering." Mr Mill's point of view 
 here is that of every Christian moralist. The " vengeance 
 " is mine, I wiU repay," peremptorily forbids the infliction 
 of punishment, even in equity due, when there is not a con- 
 currence of social ends to be served by it, with that evil 
 desert of the offender, which constitutes the punishment a 
 just one. 
 
 ' Finally, Mr Mill thus rids himself of the subject of Jus- 
 tice, in a passage which, whatever his previous success in it 
 may be, he plainly holds to clinch his argument (p. 512). 
 " I ask any one who thinks that the justice of punishment 
 " is not suf&eiently vindicated by its being for the protection 
 " of just rights, how he reconciles his sense of justice to the 
 " punishment of crimes committed in obedience to a pervert- 
 " ed conscience 1 Eavaillac and Balthasar Gerard did not 
 " regard themselves as criminals but as heroic martyr^. If 
 " they were justly put to death, the justice of punishment 
 " has nothing to do with the state of mind of the offender, 
 " further than as this may affect the efficacy of punishment 
 " as a means to its end. If that is not a justification, there 
 " is no justification. All other imaginary justifications 
 " break down in their application to this particular case.'' 
 
 ' Apart from Mr MUl's habitual confusion of the different 
 shades of meaning of the word Just, and its cognates. Jus- 
 
Rationale of its Punishment. 205 
 
 tice, Justify, &c., there seems nothing here which to an an- 
 tagonist of Mr Mill needs present the smallest difficulty. 
 As to " crimes committed in ohedience to a perverted con- 
 " science," it seems sufficient ,to say that we consider them 
 justly (or deservedly) punished as so committed; we hold 
 the felon responsible for his crime, if not immediately per- 
 haps, yet mediately as culpable in the perversion of his 
 conscience which led to it, in so far as this may fairly be 
 surmised to have emerged under the conditions of sanity. 
 Of assassins who " regard themselves not as criminals but 
 " as heroic martyrs," we may boldly say that could we have 
 positive assurance that their outrage of the obligation to re- 
 spect life was solely an act of self-sacrifice to what they con- 
 sidered a higher and more sacred one, however, on obvious 
 grounds of general expediency, we might acquiesce in the 
 doom awarded them, the justice of it as deserved or due to 
 their deed, considered in itself, and as an isolated act, we 
 should very peremptorDy deny. JusUfiahle we should call 
 it in the general, not just in the particular instance. Take 
 the stock case of Brutus — his purity of motive unim- 
 peached — who, inasmuch as he did not love Csesar less, but 
 Eome more, struck through his own heart at the murderer 
 of his country's freedom ; of Charlotte Corday, who smote 
 the monster Marat ! To deeds like these — except that " the 
 " godlike stroke " of Brutus seems a little perhaps too god- 
 like — humanity throbs for evermore approval. What of 
 such cases 1 Was Charlotte Corday "justly put to death," 
 in the sense that she deserved her doom % Mr MiU will not 
 say so. Justijiahly, however, from the legal point of view, 
 she was, if to the ruffianly faction then dominant it be pro- 
 per to ascribe legality. Generally, in such cases, while we 
 may doubt if it be morally just (deserved) that the particular 
 
2o6 Rationale of its Punishment. 
 
 hero should suffer for what may really have heen an act of 
 sublime virtue, his punishment may yet seem justifiahle to 
 us, on the ground that such ■whimsical heroes are inconveni- 
 ent, inasmuch as no society could afford to grow a succession 
 of them. A dubious point of justice — dubious, because 
 the true motive of the act must always remain obscure — 
 may here be allowed to be over-ridden by a plain and potent 
 mandate of expediency. Further, a judicial and punitive 
 sy-ftem can only deal on general rules laid down, with overt 
 act, and can take no account whatever of the motives and 
 '' state of mind of the offender.'' But has justice, therefore, 
 as Mr Mill alleges, " nothing to do with the state of mind 
 " of the offender " 1 That it is not so, is obvious from the one 
 exception to these general rules, which in every humane 
 judicial system is made in favour of the maniac. His " state 
 " of mind " is most carefully taken into account ; and if it 
 be not on a ground of justice that it is so, on what ground 
 is if? Mr Mill wiU find it hard to explain. His saving 
 clause, " further than as this (his state of mind) may affect 
 " the efficacy of punishment as a means to its end," is here, 
 of course, of no avail. For how should the state of mind of 
 the maniac, as unamenable to motive, any way affect the 
 efficacy of our hanging him for murder, as a means to deter 
 others from murder? Not surely — for anything it will 
 make in Mr Mill's favour — by directing the sympathies of 
 the public against the law and in favour of its victim ; for 
 what is to be assigned as the ground of this supposed public 
 sympathy and abhorrence 1 Plainly nothing but a sense of 
 the brutal injustice of hanging a man, " the state of whose 
 " mind " fatally determined him to crime. Yet unques- 
 tionably, rotating on the rope as an example, he would 
 be as edifying as the most perfect sanity could make him ; 
 
Rationale of its Punishment. 207 
 
 and were expediency only considered, to be rid of the 
 pernicious confusions in whicli we are of late involved, 
 we should begin to hang madmen to-morrow. But the 
 sense of justice to the poor wretches, as not after all deserv- 
 ing to be hanged, which at first procured their exemption 
 from the rope, will probably be strong enough to perpetu- 
 ate it, even against a very strong plea of social utility as 
 outraged. That "the justice of punishment has nothing 
 " to do with the state of mind of the offender," ^ is a, dictum 
 which Mr MiU may profitably revise, in the light of this 
 significant exception. If in other cases we take no account 
 of " the state of mind of the offender," it is because we are 
 utterly incapable of doing so with any approach to scientific 
 accuracy, and because criminal legislation can only proceed 
 on a general rule of particular penalties attached to par- 
 ticular acts. But not unfrequently it may happen that to 
 a punishment which is justified under the general rule, we 
 can with difiSculty reconcile ourselves as just in the indivi- 
 dual instance. And this, because though legally we cannot, 
 unavoidably as men we do, regard the " state of mind of 
 " the offender " as determining the character of his crime, 
 and more or less affecting our estimate of the amount of 
 punishment due to it, or, in the special case, just. 
 
 ' But all this time has Mr Mill been so juggling with 
 Justice without some dim sense of what he is doing t Not 
 so ; in the midst of his dexterous legerdemain, a sudden 
 suspicion seems to emerge in his mind that all is not quite 
 as it should be, and his attempt to escape from the entangle- 
 ment in which he finds himself, is, in the mode of it, even 
 more lamentable than was the entanglement itself After 
 reducing, as we have seen, " the primitive consciousness we 
 1 As to all this, see apraiii Section VI. in externa. 
 
2o8 Mr Mill's Postulate of Reality. 
 
 " are said to have that we are acoountahle, and that if we 
 " violate the rule of right we shall deserve punishment, to 
 " nothing else than our knowledge that punishment will be 
 "just," by which he really means no more than that it will 
 " naturally follow ; " though " will naturally and ma,j Justly 
 " follow" are of course the terms used, a little qualm seems 
 to strike him, and he says, — " By using the word justly, I 
 " am not assuming in the explanation the thing I profess 
 " to explain. As before observed, I am entitled to postulate 
 " the reality, and the knowledge and feeling of moral dis- 
 " tinotions. These, it is both evident metaphysically, and 
 " notorious historically, are independent of any theory con- 
 " cerning the will." Had we, in this connection, met with 
 the above on the page of an unknown writer, we should 
 have held it to indicate the most radical philosophic incom- 
 petence. Philosophers would have easy times of it if we 
 allowed them quietly to postulate the very things they un- 
 dertake to prove. If Mr Mill's present chapter be not in 
 its main scope an attempt, on the hypothesis of Necessity, 
 to prove " the reality of moral distinctions," as involved in 
 human responsibility, failing of which man cannot be a 
 moral creature, of whose acts such distinctions are predicable, 
 we will, with any sauce or none, eat his entire discussion. 
 That on the scheme of unconditional Necessity, as including 
 human actions, moral qualities can no longer, except fictiti- 
 ously, be attributed to them ; and that thus " moral distinc- 
 tions," however practically accepted, must needs be iUusory, 
 not real — what if not this is the objection urged by the 
 advocates of Freedom against Mr Mill's doctrine 1 Could 
 Mr Mill himself state the objection, save implicitly in these 
 terms ? Except by ingeniously mis-stating it, he could not ; 
 yet in answer to the objection, he considers himself " en- 
 
The very thing to be proved. 209 
 
 " titled to postulate the reality of moral distinctions." We 
 venture to question his title to do so. " As I have before 
 " observed, I am entitled," he says ; but even in this he is 
 mistaken ; nothing that he has before observed amounts to 
 any claim to be so entitled. The reference in his " before 
 observed" can only be to two passages. The one is that 
 important one already quoted, in which, seeking to make 
 sun-clear to us the " distinction between moral good and 
 " evil in conduct," he considered he succeeded in doing so 
 by abolishing all moral agency ; the other is a passage in 
 which he says, that for the present argument, it is no matter 
 what "criterion of moral distinctions,'' utilitarian or other- 
 wise, is assumed. In the first of these, he asserts that " the 
 " highest and strongest sense of the worth of goodness, and 
 " the odiousness of its opposite, is compatible with even 
 " the most exaggerated form of Fatalism ; " in the other he 
 " says, " it is sufficient if we Idieve there is a difference be- 
 " tween right and wrong." The "feeling (sense) of moral 
 " distinctions," and " the knowledge " of them — if he 
 chooses to call it a knowledge, rushing into those confusions 
 of knowledge and belief of which he seeks to convict Sir 
 W. Hamilton — he has thus, in his previous observations, 
 entitled himself to postulate. And these he is welcome to 
 postulate ; but the reality of moral distinctions is quite an- 
 other affair. That, in the scheme of the Necessitarian, moral 
 feeUngs and beliefs — 'since nobody questions their existence 
 — may logically be assumed as involved in the all-including 
 Necessity, we are frankly ready to admit ; we shall further 
 admit as involved in it the conviction in the mind of Mr 
 MiU that between a belief and the validity of a belief, as 
 vouching the reality of the thing believed, there is no distinc- 
 tion whatever; but this last part of the Necessity seems for 
 
 
2 1 o Reality of Moral Distinctions. 
 
 Mr Mill an unhappy one. We had thought a mere belief 
 could prove nothing beyond itself ; that even if it were one 
 of Sir W. Hamilton's " natural beliefs," it was scarce even 
 therein proved natural. Now, it seems, nous avons change 
 tout cela, and beliefs are to be put in the witness-box as evi- 
 dence to their own character. Whether does Mr Mill, from 
 the lelipf in moral distinctions, find so sure an inference of 
 their reality as seems to entitle him to postulate it, or has 
 he of that reality an absolute intellectual intuition 1 We 
 should be curious indeed to be informed. It seems to us 
 that to clutch at it in the latter way would be quite as con- 
 sonant with his general scheme of thought as to try to arrive 
 at it in the other. In one sense, however — let him reach it 
 in what way he pleases — Mr MiU does wisely and well to 
 postulate the reality of moral distinctions, as without some- 
 thing of this surreptitiously implied in the words just, justly, 
 &c., when in truth their meaning as used excludes it, he is 
 really without an argument. In another sense, he cannot 
 be held to do quite so well, inasmuch as the trick is quite 
 too transparent ; so that, for any but the dullest reader, his 
 dexterous manipulation of terms is vain as the art of the 
 thimble-rigger when the dupes have discovered his mystery. 
 As to the " evident metaphysically that the reality of moral 
 " distinctions is independent of any theory concerning the 
 " will," what is to us metaphysically evident in the matter, 
 is that precisely tliis it is, which Mr MUl is engaged in try- 
 ing to prove, not, as we think, with highly-distinguished 
 success.^ Suppose, again, it were " notorious historically " 
 
 1 [That if moral distinctions do exist as real, no mere theory about 
 the "Will, or about anything else, can annihilate, or make them un- 
 real, is of course uncommonly obvious. But Mr Mill cannot surely 
 mean to enunciate so bald a truism as this— that if a thing veritably 
 
Punishment Retributive 2 1 1 
 
 — as to a certain extent it is — that tlie " knowledge (belief) 
 " and feeling of moral distinctions are independent of any 
 " theory," what is this to Mr Mill's purpose % It is also, we 
 suppose, " notorious historically " that the extreme specula- 
 tive idealist, who regards the external world as an illusion 
 merely, does not therefore endanger his supersubtle brain 
 by plunging his head against walls. He practically believes 
 in the wall as having a most serious external existence, 
 though speculatively he admits it as nothing but an idea of 
 his own absurd mind. And as against Mr Mill it is con- 
 tended that in the scheme of Necessity, consistently de- 
 veloped, our moral belief is precisely in analogous case ; 
 however practically urgent, it must speculatively be volati- 
 lised into a lying illusion of life; the "moral Imperative" 
 can only be recognised as a mendacious, but not the less it 
 may remain an efficient Imperative. 
 
 ' When Mr Mill, having defined " the real question as one 
 " of Justice — the legitimacy of Eetribution or Punishment,'' 
 proceeds from his premiss of Necessity — with what success 
 we have seen — to substantiate the idea of Justice by prov- 
 ing the legitimacy of Punishment, either he has stated the 
 question in terms of most serious inaccuracy, or he must be 
 held to be proving, along with this, the legitimacy of Eetri- 
 bution ; for if in his formula — " Eetribution or Punish- 
 ment " — the words be not used as interchangeable, it can 
 only be becaiise Mr Mill is an indifferent writer of English. 
 
 is, we cannot, by any mere theorising of ours, make it not to lei 
 What he must mean is, that the " reality of moral distinctions is in- 
 dependent of theory, " in the sense that it is speculatively reconcilable 
 with the Necessitarian theory of the Will, no less than with that of 
 Freedom. And this, which is coolly assumed as "metaphysically 
 evident," is plainly the very thing of which we were entitled to de- 
 mand proof of him.] 
 
212 And Reformatory. 
 
 But the sole punishment his reasoning legitimates, is pun- 
 ishment reformatory and deterrent; and of retributive 
 punishment we hear nothing except towards the close of 
 this part of the discussion, when Mr Mill in an easy way 
 informs us he " can find no argument to justify it." Not 
 the less, ho^vever, in terms of his own statement, he stood 
 bound to find argument to justify it ; and till we came with 
 some surprise on his disclaimer, we confess we had thought 
 he was trying to do so, though he did not seem much to 
 succeed. The disclaimer, when it comes, is well ; but mean- 
 time, for careless readers — who are greatly, we fear, in the 
 majority — Mr Mill's unquestionable success in legitimating 
 punishment, interpolated as ground of motive, has seemed 
 to involve its legitimacy when inflicted as also retribution ; 
 and even when the disclaimer is tendered, they mayn't, per- 
 haps, appreciate its full force as confounding the whole 
 previous argument. We would not for the world hint such 
 a thing of Mr Mill ; but in a writer presumed capable of it, 
 we might almost have been disposed to suspect here a little 
 dishonesty of artifice. Moreover, as we before noted, had 
 Mr Mill applied to the subject, as defined in his own words, 
 the least of his usual rigour, " Eetribution," being thrown 
 overboard, " Justice " alike and " Punishment " should have 
 been cast out along with it, and instantly " the real ques- 
 tion " would have been no longer question at all to tax Mr 
 Mill's ingenuity. 
 
 ' Of artifice or subterfuge of any kind we hold Mr Mill in- 
 capable ; but throughout he has been led by the exigencies 
 of an attempt, in its very nature now and for ever a hope- 
 less one, into something perilously like it. Eecurring to 
 his definition of Moral Eesponsibility — " when we are said 
 " to have the feeling of being morally responsible for our 
 
Mr Mill's confusion of these. 2 ] 3 
 
 " actions, the idea of heing punished for them is uppermost 
 " in the s]Deaker's mind " — it is obvious to remark, as before 
 noted, that " the idea of punishment being uppermost " im- 
 plies some correlative idea as undermost in the mind of said 
 speaker. Yet, in the discussion which follows, this under- 
 most, plainly implied, finds no recognition whatever. The 
 uppermost exclusively has place in it, and the " Eesponsi- 
 " bility means punishment," which defines the simpAe Re- 
 sponsibility, is made to do duty throughout as if it had de- 
 fined the moral one. In this way Mr MiU's argument 
 succeeds beautifully. " Responsibility means punishment ;" 
 — and Mr Mill, finding it easy to exhibit a pretty little 
 schema of thought, justifying, on the principle of necessitated 
 action by motive, the infliction of punishment as furnishing 
 a motive, of course he proves his case ; Necessity and Re- 
 sponsibility are no longer incompatible, as they were held to 
 be ; Mr Mill has prospered to a wish in the mixing of his 
 oil and water. But if, on the other hand, " Responsibility 
 " means punishment," which suggests the simple Imperative, 
 is inadequate to suggest the Moral one, it may very well be 
 that though the fluids have been by Mr Mill most vigorously 
 shaken together, their interfusion is semblant only, and may 
 presently be proved to be so, by the obstinate re-emergence 
 of the oil. And precisely this is the case. If Moral Re- 
 sponsibility means not punishment simpliciter, but punish- 
 ment in some sense retributive ; and if, with " the idea of 
 " being punished upipermost " — since Mr Mill will have it 
 so — beneath and bound up with this idea is the sense of 
 heixig jtistly punished, of deserving to be punished, Mr Mill's 
 whole argument collapses. And that such is the accurate 
 statement of the case — that our feelings of good desert in a 
 good deed, of evil desert in an evil one, are of the intimate 
 
2 14 Failure of Mr Mill's argument. 
 
 essence of Moral Eesponsibility, no sane creature -will deny, 
 save here and there, perhaps a philosopher. Mr Mill him- 
 self will scarce deny it ; for did not we find him remark 
 that "not the belief that we shall be made accountable, but 
 " the belief that we ought so to be, that we are justly ac- 
 " countable, that guilt deserves punishment, can be deemed 
 " to require or jpresuppose the Free-will hypothesis " ? This, 
 therefore, is the Eesponsibility, by Mr Mill himself given 
 as the fact of consciousness, to furnish a rational basis of 
 which his adversaries " deem it needful to presuppose 
 "Freedom;" and this, by consequence, it plainly was, 
 which the rigour of the debate required Mr Mill to con- 
 stitute for us, under his prescribed conditions of jSTecessity. 
 His utter failure to do so, to the extent of having in the end 
 to admit — after trying to bubble us with a discourse on 
 Punishment Eeformatory and Deterrent, quite futde and 
 beside the "real question" — that "for any natural affinity 
 " between the two ideas of guilt and punishment he can 
 " find no argument," is perhaps the severest misfortune 
 which ever befell a logician of Mr Mill's admitted eminence.' 
 
 [I should be in the last degree disingenuous, if in repro- 
 ducing my discussion as above, I did not produce, at the 
 same time, Mr Mill's unfavourable criticism of it at one 
 particular point. 
 
 " The chapter in which I have discussed this question 
 " ( Utilitarianism, Chap. F.)is quite familiar to Mr Alexander, 
 " -who shows himself extremely well acquainted loith all parts 
 " of it,^ except those ivhich tell against his oun side. Even 
 
 ' Mr Mill's little compliment here — though indeed there is some- 
 thing more serious than a banter with it_to some extent takes the 
 sting for me out of his scorn insinuated in the next paragraph :— 
 " How far Mr Alexander understands the first elements of the ethical 
 "system which he denounces, is shown," &c. &c. 
 
Criticism by Mr Mill. 215 
 
 " when he accomplishes (pp. 52 and 59 — here pp. 195 and 
 " 201) the great feat of finding in it the two statements, that 
 " justice, in the general mind has a great deal to do with the 
 " notion of desert, and that justice is not synonymous with 
 " expediency, no one who reads him would suspect I had ex- 
 " plained in the same chapter, what in my view the notion 
 " of desert is, and what there is in our idea of justice be- 
 " sides expediency. Mr Alexander's perpetual insinuations, 
 " and more than insinuations of had faith " (to this I have 
 abeady adverted), " since he makes a kind of retractation 
 " of their grossest meaning in one line of his essay, I par- 
 " don, as one of the incidents of his rollicking style ; but it 
 " is weU that he should be aware how easy, if any one were 
 " disposed, it would be to retaliate them." 
 
 Mr Mill's accusation against me here is precisely of the 
 same kind as that treated of at pp. 25, 26. As I there frankly 
 admitted misapprehension of Mr Mill, and unfairness un- 
 intentionally involved in that, here I should frankly do the 
 same, if I could see it with the same clearness. But frankly 
 I must say I do not. My quotations from Mr Mill, in aid 
 of my argument, were made in the most perfect hona fides ; 
 and I am unable at this moment to see that my use of them 
 was illegitimate. E"or would it perhaps have been easy for 
 Mr Mill to prove that it was so, though to imply or in- 
 sinuate so much could not of course be difficult (is it need- 
 ful to say that in the use of the word insinuate here I in- 
 tend no evil insinuation).] 
 
: 1 6 Hume, Clarke, and Reid. 
 
 Note Yil.—See p. 90. 
 
 In making Hume answerable for this argument, that in 
 the light of the principle of Causation, the first is the only 
 efficient, and therefore the only responsible cause, I cannot 
 in strictness he held correct, seeing he states it only as a 
 possible objection to be replied to. With Dr Samuel Clarke, 
 it was much a favourite, and under the form of assertion, 
 that a necessary agent is not an agent at all — -the very 
 phrase involving, as he insists, a contradiction in terms — it 
 perpetually recurs in his writings on this very pet topic 
 with him. He rather, however, with ponderous iteration, 
 keeps hurling it at the heads of antagonists, than anywhere, 
 that I remember, takes pains to develop it as a clear pro- 
 position of reason ; so that a reader who does not bring the 
 meaning with him, so to speak, might readily enough fail to 
 find it. And the lucidity which the argument but indiffer- 
 ently attained in the hands of Clarke, it does not attain in 
 those of Eeid, who makes cool ' conveyance' of it, without 
 any show of exposition. It might almost seem that he 
 uses it at second-hand, in a puzzled kind of way, as a safe 
 thing to say, Clarke having said it so often, and plainly 
 putting such stead upon it. I do not in this intend dis- 
 respect to Eeid ; but it is simply the truth of him, that 
 nearly throughout, in his treatment of this subject, he blun- 
 ders almost as- dreadfully on the one side, as, more lately. 
 
Hitmes Statement of Objectio7is. 2 1 7 
 
 Mr Mill has contrived to do on the other. Li Hume, on 
 the other hand, who, at the close of his Essay on the sub- 
 ject, admits in this argument an ' objection,' which he sees 
 may be taken to his doctrine, we find it very skilfully de- 
 veloped, under forms of logical statement. 
 
 ' It may be said,' he writes, ' that if voluntary actions be 
 * subjected to the same laws of necessity with the opera- 
 ' tions of matter, there is a continued chain of necessary 
 ' causes, preordained and predetermined, reaching from 
 ' the original cause of all to every single volition of every 
 ' human creature. No contingency anywhere in the universe ; 
 ' no indifference ; no liberty. While, we act, we are at the 
 ' same time acted upon. The ultimate author of all our 
 ' volitions is the Creator of the woi~ld, who first bestowed 
 ' motion on this immense machine, and placed all beings in 
 ' that particular position, whence every subsequetit event, by 
 ' an inevitable necessity, must result. Human actions, there- 
 ' fore, either can have no moral turpitude at all, as proceed- 
 ' iug from so good a cause ; or if they have any turpitude, 
 ' they must involve our Creator in the same guilt, while He 
 ' is acknowledged to be their ultimate cause and author. 
 ' Tor as a man who fired a mine is answerable for all the 
 ' consequences, whether the train he employed be long or 
 ' short ; so wherever a continued chain of necessary causes is 
 'fixed, that being either finite or i^ifinite who produces the 
 ' first, is likeioise author of all the rest, and must both bear 
 ' the blame and acquire the praise which belong to them. 
 ' Our clear and unalterable ideas of morality establish this 
 ' rule, upon unquestionable reasons, when we examine the 
 ' consequences of any human action ; and these reasons must 
 ' still have greater force when applied to the volitions and 
 ' intentions of a Being infinitely wise and powerful. Ignor- 
 
2i8 To which he fails to reply. 
 
 ' ance or impotence may he pleaded for so limited a creature 
 ' as man ; but those imperfections can Lave no place in 
 ' our Creator. He foresaw, He ordained, He intended all 
 ' those actions of men which we so rashly pronounce crimi- 
 ' nal. And we must therefore conclude, either that they are 
 ' not criminal, or that the Deity, not man, is accountable for 
 ' them. Eut as either of these positions is absurd and im- 
 ' pious, it follows that the doctrine from which they are de- 
 ' duced cannot possibly be true, as being liable to aU the 
 ' same objections. An absurd consequence, if necessary, 
 ' proves the original doctrine to be absurd ; , in the same 
 ' manner as criminal actions render criminal the original 
 ' cause, if the connection between them be necessary and 
 ' inevitable.' 
 
 One has so often pitied a poor parson, who, having stated 
 a sceptical objection, found himself quite at a loss to dispose 
 of it to the satisfaction of his least instructed listener, that 
 it is pleasant to find the great sceptic himself here at 
 somewhat a similar nonplus. To the objection thus stated 
 by Hume with his wonted incomparable force and clearness, 
 he utterly fails in his attempt to furnish a reply. 
 
 ' This objection,' he says, availing himself of the theolo- 
 gical turn he has dexterously contrived to give it, ' consists 
 ' of two parts, which we shall examine separately ; First 
 ' — that if human actions can be traced up, by a necessary 
 ' chain, to the Deity, they can never be criminal ; on ac- 
 ' count of the infinite perfection of, that Being from whom 
 ' they are derived, and who can intend nothing but what is 
 ' altogether good and laudable. Or, secondly — if they be 
 ' criminal, we must retract the attribute of perfection which 
 ' we ascribe to the Deity, and must acknowledge Him to be 
 ' the ultimate author of guilt and moral turpitude in all His 
 
His Reply merely evasive. 219 
 
 ' creatures.' To tlie first part of tlie objection, he gives a 
 reply so utterly unspeoulative as this ^ — that the moral, as 
 ' natural sentiments of the human mind, are not to he con- 
 ' trolled or altered by any philosophical theory or specula- 
 ' tion whatsoever.' To the second part of the objection he 
 admits that he can give no answer ; that ' these are mysteries 
 ' which mere natural and unassisted reason is very unfit to 
 ' handle;' and that he, no more than his predecessors, can 
 ' defend absolute decrees, and yet free the Deity from 
 ' being the author of sin.' Meantime, what of the objection, 
 as urged on the human ground, with which only we are 
 competent to deal % This he sharply sees, as shown in the 
 clause ' impotence may be pleaded for so limited a creature 
 as man ; ' and, as quite too acute to delude himself with the 
 flimsy sophistries which satisfy Mr Mill and others, sees 
 
 1 The irrelevancy of this reply Hume contrives rather cleverly to 
 conceal, by dropping it, in an easy way, at the close of a page or two 
 of somewhat abstruse illustrative discussion — of discussion elaborately 
 needless. Wot the less it is plainly irrelevant. The objection (which 
 would scarcely in this form have occurred to any one but himself) is, 
 that if God, assumed infinitely good, be really the author of so-styled 
 criminal actions, it can only be ' rashly ' and inaccurately that we so 
 style them, because to impute badness to them would be to impeach 
 the goodness in the divine cause of them assumed. Is it any answer 
 to this reasoning to allege — for it amounts to this — that whether or no it 
 is good reasoning, by the very constitution of our nature we are inevi- 
 tably determined to impute criminality to such actions ? Would Hume 
 have elsewhere admitted the validity of such an answer ; and on the 
 ground that our natural belief in matter ' is not to be altered or con- 
 ' trolled ' by the sceptical speculation which discredits it, have con- 
 sented to dismiss the speculation as such, as worthless and unper- 
 mitted ? Not so, of course — any more than Mr Mill, admitting, as he 
 does, that ' throughout the whole of our sensitive life, we unquestion- 
 ' ably refer our sensations to me and a not-me,' would proceed to ad- 
 mit further, that on this ground, his resolution of the Not-me into 
 mere ' possibilities of sensation ' was proved to be futile and absurd. 
 
2 20 His Reply an Evasion. 
 
 also that he cannot answer it, and coolly gives it the go-hy. 
 If 'for a creature limited like man impotence may be 
 pleaded ' — impotence to act save in the one way predeter- 
 mined for him ; if our acting is in truth a ' being acted on ; ' 
 if we are not ' the authors of our own volitions,' the ' ultimate 
 cause and author of which ' is the first cause, who ' must 
 both bear the blame and acquire the praise which belong to 
 them,' — on what ground can we apportion that praise and 
 blame to man, whose good actions are thus, in a manner, 
 forced upon him, for whose bad actions 'impotence to do 
 otherwise may be pleaded ' % To this form of the objection, 
 the really pressing one, which will at once suggest itself, as 
 such, to every reader of Hume's statement, he attempts no 
 reply ; he is careful to avoid even stating it, and escapes by 
 a theological evasion, as we see. So transparent is the 
 evasion, that only my profound respect for the character of 
 Hume as a man — and surely he was one of the most admir- 
 able of men — prevents me from surmising that, as an evasion, 
 he must have been himself aware of it. Certainly my re- 
 spect for him as a thinker would lead me to suppose he 
 mtmt have been. As, however, while deprecating the way 
 in which assumed moral results of doctrine are frequently 
 used, not so properly to disprove the doctrine as ' only to 
 make the person of an antagonist odious,' he avows himself 
 willing ' frankly to submit to an examination of this kind,' 
 I should shrink from supposing his frankness merely assumed. 
 aS^o more than against Mr Mill anywhere, would I permit 
 myself here to insinuate against Hume, a loilful intellectual 
 obliquity. Yet no more palpable shirking of the real and 
 pressing point of an opponent's objection, than that of which . 
 Hume is here guilty, is anywhere, I believe, to be found. 
 Mr Mill in his Logic, when engaged in developing his 
 
In Causation no Must or Compulsion. 2 2 r 
 
 ' true doctrine of Moral Causation,' says, that wliile it can- 
 not surprise him that ' free-will philosophers, being mostly 
 ' of the school which rejects Hume's analysis of Cause and 
 ' Effect, should miss their way for want of the light which 
 ' that analysis affords,' it is a matter of some ' wonder ' to 
 him ' that the Necessitarians, who usually admit that philo- 
 ' sophical theory, should in practice equally lose sight of it.' 
 It seems probable that Hume understood, in all its bearings, 
 his own doctrine of Causation as thoroughly as Mr Mill can 
 do ; and it is made nothing less than certain by his signifi- 
 cant clause, ' for such a limited creature as man impotence 
 may be pleaded,' that he would simply have laughed to scorn 
 the use which Mr MiU has made of it in relation to the 
 moral problem. The logical distinction, in this relation, 
 between a causal compulsion to act so, and an utter,i admitted, 
 causal inahility to act othenmse, he left it for Mr MiU to 
 discover; and I don't think that, could he have foreseen it, 
 he would have much envied Mr Mill his discovery. It is 
 a great point with Mr Mill, that as Causation is nothing 
 but ' invariable sequence,' it involves no ' peculiar tie, or 
 ' mysterious constraint exercised by the antecedent over 
 ' the consequent ; ' there is, therefore, no must in the matter ; 
 no such compulsion as, in the use of the word Necessity, he 
 accuses the assailants of his doctrine of insinuating as 
 essential for their argument. Mr MUl thus, in denying 
 Freedom, equally denies compidsiofi ; and this distinction 
 between his doctrine and that of Necessity, as interpreted 
 by his opponents, he holds to be fruitful in ethical results, 
 
 1 I aasutne the inability admitted, from the point of view of the 
 Causationist ; though of course Causationists like Mill, who believe 
 that they can ' help ' their actions, may decline to admit it, if they 
 please. 
 
2 2 2 Importance in a Practical Aspect. 
 
 and ' of supreme importance in a practical aspect.' The 
 distinction seems to resolve itself into that between being 
 compelled to go to a particular place, and being utterly with- 
 out power to stay away from it. As, whichever way of it 
 we suppose, the man inevitahly finds himself at the place, 
 the difference ' in a practical aspect,' a mind as subtle as that 
 of Mr Mill is required in order to perceive. That a distinc- 
 tion so frivolous as that announced, between being causally 
 compelled to act so, and, as under the law of Causation, be- 
 ing utterly without power to act otherwise, Mr MOl should 
 have passed off upon himself as of supreme ethical import, 
 and contrived, by the weight of his authority, to impose 
 upon the minds of others — very notably on such a mind as 
 that of the ' illustrious historian and philosopher ' ^ who re- 
 viewed him so kindly in the Westminstei — must be held in 
 the last degree surprising. Surely if we can't heljj doing a 
 thing, it is quite as inevitable we should do it, as any causal 
 compulsion could make it ; and the negative of impotence 
 admitted, not less than the positive compulsion denied, is 
 seen to bear with crushing force on the integrity of the moral 
 nature. To my observations somewhat to this effect Mr MiU 
 has vouchsafed no reply ; nor has he to a series of further 
 remarks on this part of the subject, which, for complete- 
 ness' sake, I may as well briefly resume. 
 
 I suppose Mr Mill would admit that the word compul- 
 sion has a meaning ; and the thing an actual existence. 
 Suppose that, on the eve of an important division, at which 
 Mr MUl stood pledged to his constituents to be in his place 
 in Parliament, he was clutched hold of (presumably by Tory 
 conspirators), tied to the tail of a cart-horse, and dragged 
 off to Eichmond. Except by announcing and denouncing 
 1 Vide Mr Mill's Preface, 3d edition. 
 
Argu7nentu7n ad Hominem. 223 
 
 a plain raiist here, a manifestfelonious compulsion, how ever 
 would Mr Mill succeed in excusing himself when called to 
 account for his absence ? Yet here there is plainly nothing 
 hut a simple case of Causation, defined by Mr Mill as 
 merely 'invariable sequence.' The horse moves on as cause 
 or antecedent; Mr Mill as consequent, or effect, follows. 
 The ' tie ' is not indeed ' mysterious ' j it is simply some 
 yard or so of hemp; yet it suffices — nolens volens, the 
 philosopher finds himself progressing towards Eichmond. 
 Let us hope that he improves the time by meditating on 
 Hume's Theory of Causation. In the material under his 
 observation, he has advantages which Hume did not find in 
 his billiard-baUs. Almost it might seem, that while from 
 the point of view of a disembodied spirit surveying the 
 mutations of matter, nothing could ever be obvious to sense 
 save invariable sequences of change ; and between the cause 
 and its effect no relation could thus be discovered save that 
 of constant antecedence and consequence — no nexus, as it is 
 usually termed — a very slight experiment of the kind sug- 
 gested on that portion of the material world, with which, as 
 our own bodies, relations are established in consciousness, 
 does seem to afford us a perception of something of the sort 
 — of a veritable power in the cause to control or produce the 
 e^ect. Were the world merely a spectacle for us — as Hume 
 figures it with his bOliard-balls — of horses constantly pro- 
 gressing towards Richmond, and parliamentary philosophers 
 following them, we might not perhaps be able to arrive at 
 ■ this, or at anything beyond a generalisation of experience, 
 to the effect that when horses progress, invariably the phil- 
 osophers tied to them follow. But so soon as the experi- 
 ment is made in corpore vili — meaning one's own body as 
 distinguished from that of a philosopher — in the sense of 
 
2 24 A Practical Must or Compulsion. 
 
 resistance overcome, of force exerted from within, and suc- 
 cumbing to an external superior force, we seem to have a 
 guarantee of something considerahly beyond a mere invaria- 
 bility of sequence. That from ever so much experience of 
 the fact as it occurs, there is valid inference for us of power 
 in a strong horse to drag after it a weak philosopher, is, I 
 am aware, a sufficiently audacious surmise — such is the 
 weight of philosophical authority which can be put into the 
 scale against it. I by no means confidently assert so hazard- 
 ous a proposition ; only with the diffidence proper in regard 
 of a subject which has perplexed so many of the sagest 
 heads, I venture to hint the loose suggestion as it occurs, that 
 possibly from our consciousness in being reluctantly dragged 
 by the horse, as also perhaps from the consciousness of the 
 horse, if we could get at it, there is fairly some such inference. 
 All this is, however, beside the question at issue here with 
 Mr Mill, which may thus be brought to a point. Given any 
 case of clear and admitted compulsion, torture it as he will, 
 Mr Mill will be able to find in it nothing but a simple case 
 of physical causation. In one large class of cases of Causa- 
 tion, therefore, a practical must or compulsion is admitted. 
 On what ground does Mr Mill in other cases deny it 1 Mr 
 Mill cannot surely intend ' to announce one doctrine of 
 ' Causation for gentlemen under constraint, and another for 
 ' gentlemen at large.' Yet either this, or a vigorous dog- 
 matic denial of any such thing as compulsion as anywhere 
 existing in the universe, Mr Mill seems bound to announce. 
 Such is my confidence in Mr Mill's powers of denial, in any 
 case in which an affirmation would be fatal to a cherished 
 theory, that T venture to predict he will embrace this latter 
 alternative. Should he do so in his next edition, it might 
 be well for him to expunge, among others, the following 
 
Hiime — Mill and Hamilton. 225 
 
 passage, so fatal to him otherwise, as we have seen : — ' Yes ; 
 ' if he really " could not help " acting as he did ; that is, if 
 ' it did not depend upon his will ; if he was under physical 
 ' constraint, or under the action of such a violent motive 
 ' that no fear of punishment could have any effect ; which, 
 ' if capable of being ascertained, is a just ground of exemp- 
 ' tion, and is the reason why, by the laws of most countries, 
 ' people are not punished for what they were corrvpdled to 
 ' do by immediate danger of death.' 
 
 As Hume has here been under consideration, together 
 with Mr Mill's relations to him, it may be well to say, in a 
 word, that in regard of the question at issue about him be- 
 tween Mr Mill and Hamilton (in the last rather elaborate 
 Note to Mr Mill's concluding Chapter), on the clear evidence 
 of Mr HiU Burton's excellent Life of Hume, the balance of 
 accuracy in appreciation is distinctly on Sir W. Hamilton's 
 side. Hamilton's notion of Hume is, that his position is 
 that of the merely intellectual sceiptic, who, taking — pro- 
 visionally — his premises from the current philosophy of his 
 time, calmly deduced the results, and said — TJiere ! this is 
 what your vaunted Eeason leads us to. Mr Mill's notion, 
 on the other hand, is, that Hume, in all seriousness, ' ac- 
 cepted the premises at once, and the conclusion ; ' that his 
 position was not so properly that of the sceptic, as of the 
 dogmatist in positive unbelief, who ' preferred being called 
 a sceptic to coming under a more odious title.' Quite plainly 
 Mr Mill has not read Mr Burton's Life of Hume. If he 
 wiU a little carefully do so, he wiU find conclusive evidence 
 in many passages, that lie it is — and not Hamilton, as mean- 
 time he surmises — who has 'misunderstood the essential char- 
 acter of Hume's mind.' The subject cannot well be here 
 discussed or even entered upon. If Mr Mill will be good 
 P 
 
2 26 Mr Mill remitted to his Studies. 
 
 enough, in the interim, to glance into this Life of Hume, I 
 think it not unlikely that this ' Note' will, in his Fourth Edi- 
 tion, be withdrawn. Should it be retained, it will be easy to 
 show that, in retaining it, Mr Mill has done injustice alike 
 to Hamilton, to Hume, and to himself. Hume was certainly 
 no Christian ; but unquestionably he was a sound — though 
 perhaps not fervid — Theist ; and, always a little short of 
 Christianity — curiosities of dialectic apart, which to himself 
 seemed not much more than such — believed pretty much as 
 other people do. 
 
 [In writing as above of the evidence furnished by Mr 
 Burton's ' Life,' as to Hume's real views and philosophical 
 attitude, I trusted to my memory of the book, and the general 
 impression it had left on my mind after more than one 
 perusal. On recurring to the volumes with a view to ascer- 
 tain, so far as may be, the exact state of the matter (and 
 this, in reopening the subject, I considered it imperative I 
 should do), I find that the case, as against Mr Mill, is not 
 quite so strong as I had supposed it. It remains, however, 
 I think, strong enough to bear statement, and I place it 
 in detail before my readers accordingly ; as, in point of fact, 
 I was bound to do, or failing this, frankly retire from my 
 previous over-confident deliverance. 
 
 As regards Hume's real and private belief, I have said 
 that ' unquestionably he was a sound— though perhaps not 
 fervid — Theist;' and if this can be clearly made out, it 
 will follow that his scepticism, though genuine, was merely 
 intellectual or speculative, and that he, in his own person, 
 by no means accepted in full the negative results to which 
 it led. He did not in that case ' accept the conclusions,' 
 as Mr Mill surmises, while ' accepting the premises,' as he 
 
Hti,me a Theist. 227 
 
 found them in the current philosophy of his time. The 
 evidence from the book, of Hume's Theism, is not quite 
 so strong as I had thought it ; but perhaps, if candidly- 
 weighed, it may suffice. I give the items of evidence, as 
 they occur in the book, seriatim : — 
 
 1. (Vol. i. p. 162.)— Letter to William Muir of Caldwell, re- 
 garding a sermon of a certain Dr Leechman, of which Hume's 
 opinion had been asked. ' As to the argument,' he writes, 'I 
 ' could wish Mr Leechman would, in the second edition, 
 ' answer this objection both to devotion and prayer, andindeed 
 ' to everything we commonly call religion, except the practice 
 ' of morality, and the assent of the understanding to the pro- 
 ' position that God exists.' This might almost seem to imply 
 that whilst other objections are urged to ' everything we com- 
 monly call religion,' the q_uestions of practical morality and 
 the existence of God are expressly set aside as adjusted in 
 Hume's own mind, and not, so far as he is concerned, to be 
 proposed as matter of controversy. He then proceeds : ' It 
 ' must be acknowledged that nature has given us a strong 
 ' passion of admiration for whatever is excellent, and of 
 ' love and gratitude for whatever is benevolent and bene- 
 ' ficial, and that the Deity possesses these attributes in the 
 < highest perfection ; and yet, I assert He is not the natural 
 ' object of any passion or affection. He is no object of 
 ' either the senses or the imagination,' &c. It is not 
 necessary to quote the sceptical reasonings which follow, 
 however in themselves of interest. What we are here con- 
 cerned with is Hume's clear implication at first, and clear 
 enunciation afterwards, of his Theistic belief. It is to be 
 admitted, however, that there is really not very much in 
 this. Hume, as writing for behoof of a cleric, might think 
 that in treating religion otherwise with some disrespect, a 
 mere abstract recognition of God as existing, and conven- 
 
2 28 Evidence of Hume s Theism. 
 
 tional lifting of his hat to him (the pious part of the passage 
 seems really a little to suggest this), was the very least he 
 could do ia the way of a polite concession. To such a 
 thing as this in itself it would be stupid to assign import- 
 ance ; I include it as merely the first arrow in the sheaf — 
 and it is known, I believe, that with items of evidence, as 
 with arrows, each separate arrow (or item) may readily 
 enough be broken, whilst a sheaf of them cannot quite so 
 easUy be disposed of. 
 
 2. (Vol. i. p. 292 et seq.) — In re — the death of Hume's 
 mother. Some silly stuff having been circulated on this 
 subject picked up by an American traveller, and from him 
 quoted in the ' Quarterly Eeview,' Baron Hume, a relative, 
 thought it right to issue an authoritative protest ; and the 
 following is given by Mr Burton as the accurate truth of the 
 matter (the evidence seems unimpeachable, as indeed Mr 
 Burton is one of the last men likely to be found lax in 
 testing a question of evidence) : — 
 
 ' David and be ' (the quotation is from the MS. Memoirs 
 of Dr Carlyle — the Jupiter Carlyle of Scott) — ' David and 
 he ' (the Honourable Mr Boyle, brother of the Earl of Glas- 
 gow) ' were both in London at the period when David's 
 ' mother died. Mr Boyle, on hearing of it, soon after went 
 ' into his apartment — for they lodged in the same house — 
 ' where he found him in the deepest affliction and in a flood 
 ' of tears. After the usual topics of condolence, Mr Boyle 
 ' said to him — " My friend, you owe this uncommon grief to 
 ' " having thrown off the principles of religion ; for if you had 
 ' " not, you would have been consoled with the firm belief that 
 ' " the good lady, who was not only the best of mothers, but 
 ' " the most pious of Christians, was completely happy in the 
 ' " realms of the just." To which David replied—" Though I 
 
Evidence of Htime's Theism. 229 
 
 ' " ihroio out my speculations to entertain the learned and 
 ' " metaphysical world, yet, in other things, I do not think so 
 ' " differently from the rest of the loorld as you imagine." ' 
 In so far as this is to be believed — and there seems no 
 fair ground of doubt as to its substantial accuracy — it may 
 be held more or less to the purpose. 
 
 3. (Vol. ii. p. 220.) — Stm more to the purpose is the 
 
 anecdote — long since common property — thus given by Mr 
 
 Burton : ' Sir Samuel Eomilly has preserved the follow- 
 
 ' ing curious statement by Diderot. He spoke of his ac- 
 
 ' quaintance with Hume : " Je vous dirai un trait de lui, mais 
 
 ' " il vous sera un pen scandaleux, peut-etre, car vous Anglais, 
 
 ' " vous croyez un peu en Dieu; pour nous autres, nous n'y 
 
 ' " croyons gudre. Hume dina avec une grande compagnie 
 
 ' " chez le Baron d'Holbaoh. II etait assis Ji-c&t6 du Baron ; on 
 
 ' " parla de la religion naturelle. 'Pour les Ath^es,' disait 
 
 '" Hume, 'je ne crois pas qu'il en existe, je n'en ai jamais 
 
 ' " ' vu.' ' Vous avez iii. un peu malheureux,' repondit 
 
 ' " I'autre ; ' vous voici a table avec dix-sept pour la pre- 
 
 ' " ' miere fois.' " ' 
 
 The authenticity of this has never, that I know of, been 
 called in question. But a good story is always suspicious ; 
 and Diderot — a wit and raconteur of the first order — was 
 undoubtedly quite capable of inventing this one. He 
 would scarce, however, as a master of the art, have done so, 
 unless with some mythical probability for it, so to speak, in 
 Hume's known and professed opinions. But — 
 
 4. (Vol. ii. p. 465.) — In point of fact, it matters little or 
 nothing what amount of truth we attribute to this story, in- 
 asmuch as the essence of it is elsewhere conveyed to us 
 under Hume's own hand, at the end of a highly curious 
 letter of gossip about Prince Charles Edward, the Pretender. 
 
230 Evidence of Hume s Theism. 
 
 ' Both Lord Marisolial and Helvetius agree, that with this 
 ' strange character, he was no higot ; but rather had learned 
 'from the 2^1dlosopliers of Paris to affect a contempt for all 
 ' religion. You must know that both these persons thought 
 ' they were asQrihing to him an excellent quality ; indeed, 
 ' both of them used to laugh at me for my nai-roio way of 
 ' thinking in these particidars. However, my dear Sir John 
 ' [Pringle], you will do me the justice to acquit me.' The 
 proof is thus clear beyond question, that Hume was by no 
 means an ' advanced thinker ' in the eyes of the thorough- 
 going gentlemen of the Encyclopedic ; but incurred (along 
 with Voltaire and Eousseau, who continue to figure along 
 with him in the popular mind as atheists) the ridicule and 
 intellectual scorn of Diderot and his lot, as ' oroyant un feu 
 en Dieu.' The truth I believe to be, that Hume believed 
 en Dieu not im pen, but entirely and as an article of faith, 
 and probably with as much enthusiasm as was possible for 
 a man whose enthusiasms were so purely and exclusively 
 intellectual. 
 
 5. (VoL ii. p. 451.) — The following, so far as believed — 
 and, as given by Mr Burton, there seems no ground for 
 calling it in question — seems even to show that at times he 
 could get up a little fervour on the subject. 
 
 ' Yet the tone of his thoughts sometimes rose to enthu- 
 siasm. Thus the son of his valued friend Ferguson 
 ' remembers his father saying' (the evidence is thus direct 
 from the younger Ferguson) ' that one clear and beautiful 
 ' night, when they were walking home together, Hume 
 ' suddenly stopped, looked up to the starry sky, and said, 
 ' more after the manner of Hervey's " Meditations " than the 
 ' "Treatise of Human Nature "—" Oh Adam! can any one 
 ' " contemplate the wonders of that firmament, and not believe 
 
Slight, yet perhaps S^lfficient. 231 
 
 ' " tliat there is a God ? " ' — wHch, if true, seems pretty 
 conclusive. 
 
 About Hume, as about other men like him, many mere 
 lies have been fabricated by the pious imagination — in 
 honour, I suppose, of the Deity, not sufiloiently held 
 respected in some of his sceptical arguments. Contrariwise, 
 there may possibly have been some tendency in the friends 
 of Hume — by consent of all who ever knew him (if we ex- 
 cept the maniac Eousseau) one of the most admirable and 
 lovable of men — if not to invent anecdotes on the other 
 side, yet, perhaps, to colour them up a little. Making some 
 slight deduction for this, I must yet hold it proved, on the 
 evidence as adduced (though somewhat slighter than I had 
 supposed it), that Hume, despite of his sceptical reasonings 
 to the contrary, was a sincere, perhaps even a devout, behever 
 in the main truths of natural rehgion. I therefore think it 
 highly probable that when (vide my first item of evidence, 
 to which, in itself, as I said, no very great weight could be 
 given) he excluded from his sceptical criticism the sanctions 
 of morality, and ' the assent of the understanding to the 
 proposition tJiat God exists' (the italics are Hume's own), 
 he was perfectly sincere in so doing. 
 
 I also think it not unlikely that when, in his "Dialogues 
 on ^Natural Eeligion," he puts into the mouth of the sceptic 
 Philo (whom we are fairly entitled to consider as represent- 
 ing himself in the Dialogue — vide his letter to Gilbert Elliot, 
 see vol. i. p. 332) the following significant passage, he was 
 giving simple and plain expression to his own mode of 
 thought in the matter : — 
 
 'I must confess that I am less cautious on the subject of 
 ' natural religion than on any other ; both because I know 
 ' that I can never, on that head, corrupt the principles of 
 
232 Perhaps Sufficient. 
 
 ' any man of common-sense ; and because no one, I am confi- 
 ' dent, in whose eyes I appear a man of common-sense, will 
 ' ever mistake my intentions. You, in particular, Cleanthes, 
 ' with whom I live in unreserved intimacy — you are sensible 
 ' that notwithstanding the freedom of my conversation' (say 
 way of writing), ' and my love of singular arguments, no one 
 ' has a deeper sense of religion impressed on his mind, or 
 ' pays more profound adoration to the Divine Being, as He 
 ' discovers Himself to reason in the inexplicable contrivance 
 ' and artifice of Nature.' 
 
 Allowing for more or less suspicion here of the conven- 
 tional lifting of the hat to his Lordship, so to speak, in the 
 ' profound adoration,' &o., I see really no reason to question 
 that in this we have genuine indication of Hume's own 
 mode of looking at the subject. If certain of the ' singular 
 arguments' of which he admits himself enamoured, may 
 seem at times to bear a little hard on the 'Divine Being as 
 He discovers Himself to reason,' &o., this does not in the 
 least discredit his belief in the Divine Being, of which we 
 have clear evidence elsewhere; it merelyillustrates that 'love 
 of singular arguments,' which he himself in a sense pleads 
 guilty to as proper to his speculative and sceptical intelli- 
 gence. JSTote, in all this, the exact consonance with what we 
 have seen reported as falling from him (see p.228-9) in a crisis 
 of the deepest seriousness : ' Though I throve out my specu- 
 ' lations (or singular arguments) to entertain the learned and 
 ' metaphysical world, yet I do not think so differently,' &c. 
 I have, as I hope, sufficiently shown, as against Mr Mill, who 
 surmises that Hume ' sincerely accepted both the premises 
 of his philosophy and the conclusions,' that the conclusions 
 he did not accept, as personally believing in the God who 
 finds but scant recognition in his philosophy. It remains 
 
Hztme no Dogmatist i7i Negation. 233 
 
 to be considered in how far Hume ' sincerely accepted the 
 premises.' Provisionally he accepted them of course, as he 
 got them from Locke and Berkeley ; and the germ of scepti- 
 cism latent in the pious Bishop/ under Hume's fostering 
 hand was developed into a formidable upas-tree, beneath the 
 malign boughs of vfhich a good many ' precious convictions ' 
 seemed in danger of withering out. Hume himself, how- 
 ever, did not very much believe in his own pretty speculations, 
 except as they amused himself in the exercise of his rest- 
 less intellect ; ' entertained (and perplexed) the learned and 
 metaphysical world ; ' and reduced his friends the theolo- 
 gians at times to a very sore pass indeed (his friends — inas- 
 much as Hume was on terms of kindly intimacy with almost 
 every clerical person of note in his time in Scotland). His 
 real point of view is very well indicated in one of his let- 
 ters to Miller his London publisher (vol. ii. p. 34) : ' As to 
 ' my opinions, you Tcnow I defend none of them pusitivehj ; 
 ' I only propose my doubts where I am so unhappy as not 
 ' to receive the same conviction with the rest of mankind. 
 ' It surprises me much to see anybody who pretends to be 
 ' a man of letters discover anger on that account ; since it 
 ' is certain by the experience of all ages that nothing eontri- 
 ' hutes more to the progress of learning than such disputes 
 ' and novelties.' The inference from this seems fair, that 
 Hume's position was as far as possible from that of the dog- 
 matist in positive negation (as supposed by Mr Mill), who ac- 
 cepted as final the conclusions of his sceptical argument ; but 
 a sceptic pure and simple who — never the dupe of his own 
 
 1 See Note N, Essays : ' This argument is drawn from Dr Berkeley ; 
 ' and indeed most of the writings of that very ingenious author form 
 ' the best lessons of scepticism which are to he found either among 
 ' ancient or modern philosophers, Bayle not excepted.' 
 
234 Hume's relatio7i to his Premises. 
 
 paradoxes — evolved his results in an unconcerned way, as 
 a sport of dialectic wMch amused Mm, and could not ser- 
 iously do harm to any one; whilst he clearly saw that 
 ' such disputes and novelties ' might he useful in foiward- 
 ' ing the progress of learning ' and of speculation on such 
 subjects. 
 
 This view will be found confirmed in the following pas- 
 sage ; for my present purpose — of determining so far as 
 possible Hume's exact relation to the premises from which he 
 reasoned — the most important which occurs in these volumes. 
 (See letter to Gilbert EUiot of Minto, vol. i. p. 334.) 
 
 ' I am sorry our correspondence should lead us into these 
 ' abstract speculations, &c. If in order to answer the doubts 
 ' started, new iwinci'ples of philonophy must be laid, are not 
 ' these doubts themselves very useful 1 Are they not pre- 
 ' ferable to mere blind and ignorant assent ? / hope I can 
 ' answer my own doubts ; but if I could not, is it to be won- 
 ' dered at ? To give myself airs, and speak magnificently, 
 ' might 1 7iot observe that Columbus did not conquer empires 
 ' and plant colonies.' 
 
 A passage in several ways of special interest. The simple 
 clause, ' I hope I can answer my own doubts ' — by which, 
 it is to be supposed, Hume must have really meant some- 
 thing — makes it clear that Hume did not for himself ' accept 
 the conclusions ' to which his sceptical dialectic had guided 
 him ; while it is equally clear, from what precedes, that he 
 had exact prevision of the form which any answer to him must 
 assume, likely in the least to be formidable ; the polemic 
 against him must proceed, as he saw, not by the method of 
 attack on the logical consequence of his reasonings, but of 
 critical question as to the soundness and sufficiency of the 
 premises from which he reasoned. ' If in order to answer 
 
Exact foresight of the Issues. 235 
 
 ' the doubts started, new principles of philosophy must he laid, 
 ' are not these doubts themselves very useful ? ' We fmd in 
 Hume here, the most exquisitely accurate appreciation of the 
 character of his intellectual work, and of the issues it had 
 made inevitable. Taking philosophy as he found it, and 
 accepting his premises as furnished to him by the then re- 
 ceived systems, he had exploded a torpedo under them, so 
 that philosophy could no farther be prosecuted, except by 
 remanding it to its first ground, and revising the very bases 
 of the business. On the lines of thought indicated by Locke, 
 the last word had been spoken ; thought on such subjects 
 had been ruthlessly run up into a hopeless cul-de-sac, out of 
 which there was no extrication for it, save only by the method 
 of retreat, and seeking for a fresh start in the announcement 
 of ' new principles of philosophy.' Confident in the strin- 
 gency of his logic, Hume saw that its results were only to 
 be impeached, by impeachment of the sufiiciency of his 
 premises; that if his doubts were at aU. effectively to be 
 answered (as he himself very well knew they might — ' I 
 hope I can answer my own doubts '), it could only be on 
 one condition — ^'new principles of philosophy must be 
 laid.' In his own somewhat grandiloquent figure, like 
 Columbus, leaving the old world (philosophy as he found 
 and accepted it), he had led men to the borders of a new 
 one; the discovery or indication of this was for him a sufficient 
 feat ; it was for others to conquer and colonise it. We have 
 thus, in Hume here, the exactest prescience — one might 
 almost say prophecy — of the polemic against him begun 
 here by Eeid about ten years after (date of letter, 1751), as 
 by Kant somewhat later in Germany. 
 
 Mr Mill writes (see Note before referred to) : ' This is 
 ' certainly the use which has been made of Hume's argu- 
 
236 Mr Mill's notion he had none. 
 
 ' ment by Eeid and many other of his opponents. Admit- 
 ' ting their validity as arguments, Eeid considered them not 
 ' as proving Hume's conclusions, hut as a redudio ad absur- 
 ' dum of his premises. That Hume, however, had any fore- 
 ' sight of their being put to this use, either for a dogmatical 
 ' or a purely sceptical purpose, appears to me supremely 
 ' improhahle.' It appears to me, contrariwise, on evidence 
 of the passage cited — the significance of which, slight and 
 casual as it is, cannot, I think, he mistaken — that Hume's 
 ' foresight ' of Eeid's procedure, as the only one intellec- 
 tually competent, was as exact and precise as it could pos- 
 sibly be. 
 
 When, ten years later, Eeid was preparing for the press 
 his 'Inquiry into the Human Mind,' he wished, through 
 his friend Blair, to have Hume's opinion of the work. 
 Hume, though in the first instance (as having been under 
 the coarse thong of Warburton) expressing a slightly petu- 
 lant ' wish that the parsons would confine themselves to 
 ' their old occupation of worrying one another, and leave 
 ' philosophers to argue with temper, moderation, and good 
 ' manners ' (it may be feared that philosophers, no more 
 than parsons, have on all occasions made exhibition of these 
 virtues), not the less went over the proof-sheets ; and recog- 
 nising in tJiis parson his peer, wrote him in terms of noble 
 courtesy and compliment. I extract from his letter the 
 special passage which seems here to have some pertinence 
 (see vol. ii. p. 154) : 'I shall therefore forbear' (after hint- 
 ing some possible objections) ' till the whole can be before 
 ' me, and shall not at present propose any farther difficulties 
 ' to your reasonings. I shall only say that, if you have been 
 ' able to clear up these abstruse and important subjects, in- 
 ' stead of being mortified, 1 shall be so vain as to pretend to a 
 
Hume and Reid. 237 
 
 ' sliare of the praise ; and shall tMiik that my errors, by hav- 
 ' ing at least some coherence, had led you to make a more 
 ' strict review of my principles, lohich were the common 
 ' ones, and to perceive their futUity.' This futility of ' my 
 principles which were the common ones ' heing perceived 
 and made out, ' new principles of philosophy must be laid,' 
 as Hume, ten years before, had himself presciently written. 
 The course of thought is exactly as he had foreseen it must 
 be ; and when his prophecy — so call it — receives thus in 
 Eeid fulfilment, he professes that in Eeid's success (such as 
 it may chance to be) he can feel no mortification, as of right 
 in his own person 'pretending to a share in the praise.' 
 'If in order to answer my doubts,' &c., were not they a 
 seed worth sowiug, however otherwise at the instant bigots 
 and blockheads might think of it ? This ' Columbus of the 
 moral seas ' rather welcomes, than resents as an intrusion, 
 the advent of the first colonist to his new continent dis- 
 covered ; and presently had he but lived a little, he would 
 have had to welcome (nor need it be doubted that with 
 an honourable pride he would have done so) the advent of 
 another and greater one. 
 
 Such portion as also seems to have pertinence, of Eeid's 
 gratified letter in reply, it may not be amiss to quote in 
 conclusion (vol. ii. p. 155): — 
 
 ' In attempting to throw new light upon these abstruse 
 ' subjects, I wish to preserve the due mean betwixt confi- 
 ' dence and despair. But, whether I have any success in this 
 ' attempt or not, I shall always avow myself your disciple in 
 ' metaphysics. I have learned more from your writings in 
 ' this kind, than from all others put together. Your system 
 ' appears to me not only coherent in all its parts, but likewise 
 \justly deduced from principles commonly received among 
 
238 Exchange of Coii,rtesies. 
 
 ' philnsopliers — prinoipleswhioli I never thought of calling in 
 ' question, until the conclusions you draw from them in the 
 ' " Treatise of Human Nature '' made me suspect them. If 
 ' tJtese principles are solid, your system must stand; and 
 ' whether they are or not, can tetter he judged after you have 
 ' brought to light the whole system that grows out of them, 
 ' than when the greater part of it was wrapped up in clouds 
 ' and darkness. I agree with you, therefore, that if this 
 ' system shall ever he demolished, you have a just claim to a 
 ' great share of the praise, both because you have made it a 
 ' distinct and determinate mark to be aimed at, and have 
 ' furnished proper artillery for the purpose.' 
 
 These extracts from Mr Burton's Life of Hume being 
 given (and I confess they are not so conclusive as from 
 memory I had thought them likely to be), I have simply to 
 leave it to the reader to decide on the evidence before him, 
 whether Mr Mill or Sir W. Hamilton has the more accurately 
 appreciated Hume's philosophical attitude and significance ; 
 which of the two it is who has most ' misunderstood the 
 essential character of Hume's mind.'] 
 
 In preparing the above, I was unaware that in the 
 Appendix to Professor Veitch's 'Life of Hamilton' this 
 subject is expressly, and at some length, treated of j the aim 
 of Professor Veitch being precisely as mine, to defend Ham- 
 ilton, in as far as might be, against the charge of ignorant 
 misapprehension thrown out by Mr John Stuart Mill. 
 As I read with much interest the ' Life of Hamilton ' when 
 it appeared, I consider it nearly certain I must also have 
 read the Appendix to it ; and if so, I am a little at a loss to 
 know how I could have forgotten this discussion contained 
 
Prof. VeitcJi s ^ Life of Hamilton.' 2 Tig 
 
 in it. So it was, however ; and it was only the other day, 
 that on my casually taking up the hook, which came across 
 me by the merest accident, my attention was drawn to these 
 pages, which, if read, had unaccountably slipped from my 
 mind. My treatment of the subject is not, however, so 
 identical with that of the Professor that it is necessary to 
 suppress my statement. "With this reference, which is obvi- 
 ous and proper, it may be given for what it may be worth, 
 as merely in supplement of his. Of the quotations made 
 by me from Hume, only one is used by Professor Veitch — 
 the extract given at p. 236 from his letter to Eeid, ' I shall 
 only say,' &c. He follows it up, however, by a citation 
 from a letter to Hutcheson, which somehow had escaped my 
 scrutiny, but may now be as well here included (vol. i. p. 
 118) : ' I assure you that, without running any of the heights 
 ' of scepticism, I am apt in a cool hour to suspect, in general, 
 ' that most of my reasonings will be more tiseful by furnishing 
 ' hints and exciting people's curiosity, than as containing any 
 'principles that will augment the stock of knowledge that must 
 ' pass to future ages.' 
 
240 Passage from Mr Mill. 
 
 iSToTB IV. 
 
 {Mill and Garlyle, p. 90 et seq.) 
 
 " We should scarce liave thought it possible that any man 
 worth one's while to reply to would propound as the difference 
 between man and stone which legitimates moral judgment of 
 the one and not of the other, the inherence of a will in the 
 man ; if ex hypothesi, that wiU must itself be held to act 
 
 ' Not willingly, but tangled in the fold 
 Of dire Necessity, whose law ' 
 
 determines its minutest decision. But we find to our grief 
 and consternation, in Mr John Stuart Mill, such a man. 
 From a passage already incidentally glanced at, there seems 
 little doubt that, in the last resort, it is thus Mr Mill would 
 seek to escape from the difficulty. At p. 514 we find him 
 thus writing : — ' Yes ; if he really " could not help " acting 
 ' as he did ; that is, if his will could not have helped it ; if 
 ' he was under physical constraint, or under the action of 
 ' such a violent motive, that no fear of punishment could have 
 • any effect ; which, if capable of being ascertained, is a just 
 ' round of exemption, and is the reason why, by the laws 
 ' of most countries, people are not punished for what they 
 ' were compelled to do by immediate danger of death.' A 
 passage this which seems for Mr Mill an unhappy one. For 
 how, on his principles, is it possible to maintain a valid 
 distinction between the exceptional cases given as incapaci- 
 
Criticism of it. 241 
 
 tating the will, and thus claiming of right ' exemption ' from 
 moral judgments, and other oases for which no such plea of 
 exemption is urged ? In a case of physical constraint, the 
 will of the man is in abeyance to the pressure of a physical 
 causation ; in a case of such overmastering motive as no fear 
 of punishment can countervail, the will of the man is in 
 abeyance to that of a moral causation ; and in either case, 
 Mr Mill holds that, inasmuch as ' his will could not have 
 helped it,' exemption from blame must be accorded. What 
 then of a case in which the motive, though somewhat less 
 absolutely tyrannous, was yet of violence sufficient to deter- 
 mine the man to crime ? Is there here no rigour of moral 
 causation ? And if in this case, not less than in the other, 
 the causal necessity is admitted, on what ground is the right 
 of the man denied to the ' exemption ' granted his fellow ? 
 ' Gould his will in tMs case have helped it \ ' — in any case, 
 in which the motive was the sufficient reason of the act t 
 Mr Mill must here be supposed to imply as much, though 
 he could only explicitly maintain it by a plunge into fatal 
 inconsequence. For in no ease could ' the tuill of the man 
 have helped ' his act, except by being determined differ- 
 ently ; and if it could not determine itself differently, how 
 its different determination could be come at except through 
 that ' difference in the antecedents ' which Mr Mill himself 
 has taught us to exclude, he will find it hard to explain. 
 How, farther, are we to distinguish between a case in which 
 ' no fear of punishment could have any effect,' and one in 
 which the fear of punishment had no effect? If it had 
 no effect, how could it have had any 1 Solely by being a 
 stronger fear, in relation to the antagonist impulse; to suppose 
 it which, is once more to suppose a change in the antecedents, 
 with a revolution, as involved in this, of the whole previous 
 
242 Criticism continued. 
 
 order of the world. Mr Mill seems here in Ms argument 
 somewhat in the hapless case of the philosophical gentle- 
 man in the Tempest, ' the latter end of whose commonwealth 
 forgets the beginning.' Briefly, if Mr MOl, to the exclu- 
 sion of Freedom, includes human actions under the law of 
 Universal Causation, we are at least entitled to insist on his 
 steadily conceiving it Universal. If Physical Causation in- 
 capacitates the Will, must not Moral Causation incapacitate? 
 and if not, what is the rational ground of the distinction ? 
 Farther, if in special cases, as Mr Mill admits, Moral Caus- 
 ation incapacitates, must it not incapacitate in all ? and if 
 not, how not ? Freedom apart, could in any case the ' loill 
 of a man have helped ' his doing as he did, any more than 
 his falling to the earth, if he found himself flung forth of 
 window ? Mr MiU cannot say so except in manifest outrage 
 of his own principles. The formula of ' his mill could not 
 have helped it,' which he exclusively announces as ground 
 of ' exemption ' from moral judgments, in cases of physical 
 constraint and tyrannous extremity of motive, must needs, 
 on these principles, he extended to all outlying human actions, 
 with the like inference of ' exemption.' Mr Mill's 'yes — 
 ' if he really " could not help " acting as he did ; that is, if 
 ' his will could not have helped it ; if he was under physical 
 ' constraint,' on the extension of its second clause, which 
 his own previous reasoning to a change of antecedents neces- 
 sitates, amounts in point of fact then to this — that in any 
 given case, the man ' really could not help ' acting as he 
 did, any more than if he had been under physical constraint ; 
 how then, any more than in that case, he is to he held a fit 
 subject of Uame, we may ask Mr Mill to demonstrate, and 
 give him his own time to it.i When he has succeeded in 
 1 Let me say quite frankly that I think it needed a little coolness 
 
Continued. 243 
 
 doing so, we shall admit his title to be found writing as 
 follows : — 
 
 " ' If the desire of right and aversion to wrong have yielded 
 ' to a small temptation, we judge them to be weak, and our 
 ' disapprobation is strong. If the temptation to which they 
 ' have yielded is so great that even strong feelings of virtue 
 ' might have succumbed to it, our moral reprobation is less 
 ' intense. If, again, the moral desires and aversions have 
 ' prevailed, but not over a very strong force, we hold that 
 ' the action was good, but that there was little merit in it ; 
 ' and our estimate of the merit rises in exact proportion to 
 ' the greatness of the obstacle which the moral feeling proved 
 ' strong to overcome.' 
 
 " Meantime, it is sufficiently clear that the phrases merit 
 or demerit, moral approbation or reprobation, can, except as, 
 so to speak, stolen, have no place in ' Mr MiU's vocabulary. 
 For how should a desire or aversion as failing in the hour of 
 temptation, incur his moral censure as loeak, if, being, as it 
 is, the last link in a chain, of unconditional sequences, we 
 can only suppose it stronger, by supposing a change in the 
 series of these sequences 1 To alter the whole world from 
 the beginning is surely the sort of feat, for his culpable ne- 
 glect to perform which it seems odd to arraign a poor sinner. 
 Further, in the matter of temptations yielded to, or resisted, 
 why should he apportion his moral approval or the reverse, 
 according to the strength or weakness of the temptation 1 
 Is not the weakest temptation which results in act, as strict- 
 ly as the very strongest, the sufficient reason of the act, and 
 in so far forth the excuse of it 1 Two temptations, a strong 
 and a weak respectively, having induced act, does Mr Mill 
 
 on Mr Mill's part quietly to reprint his passage, with this criticism 
 of it staring him in the face. 
 
244 Concluded. 
 
 really suppose in the strong temptation any compulsory 
 power to induce its act, whicli did not also reside in the weak 
 one ? And why talk of strength or weakness of temptation? 
 These phrases have only meaning in relation to the strength 
 of antagonist impulses, a strength severely predetermined like 
 that of the temptation itself. The question of the result 
 can plainly no more he a moral one, than if it simply con- 
 cerned the tilting of weights on a balance. It is impossible 
 a writer should enmesh himself in a net of more fatal incon- 
 sistencies.'' 
 
Gejiesis of the Free-will Doctrine. 245 
 
 Note V.— See p. 128. 
 
 Genesis of the Feee-Will Doctrine. 
 
 Of Mr Sully's essay so entitled, it is not my purpose to 
 attempt any critical estimate. I -wish merely to recognise 
 it, en passant, as a fresh and original contribution to tlie 
 literature of this vexed subject, soliciting, as such, the at- 
 tention of those for whom it has an interest. The discussion 
 embodies a great deal of subtle and ingenious thinking ; but 
 as to its substantive value, I desire to express no opinion. 
 
 Mr Sully seems so far right in supposing, to conclude, 
 that ' if his attempt at psychological analysis has succeeded, 
 ' the logical side of the question is necessarily affected,' in- 
 asmuch as ' any mode of explanation which shows how a 
 ' given idea may have arisen from the inherent laws of the 
 ' mind itself, offers a new hypothesis which thenceforth 
 ' competes with the supposition of a real objective origin.' 
 Mr Sully's genesis of the idea accepted — that is — Freedom 
 as a so-called 'direct deliverance of consciousness' may be 
 held to be somewhat discredited, as possibly a mere illusion 
 — an illusion of which an account has been given, as such. 
 
 Some genesis of the idea of Freedom I had myself hypo- 
 thetically furnished, merely in development of a hint from 
 one of Hume's Notes (see p. 24). As hinted by Hume and 
 
246 Consciousness of Freedom Universal. 
 
 developed by myself, it seemed to me so plausible, and even 
 cogent, that I did not see my way to dispose of it (see p. 
 127) except by announcing, as against it, so very big a 
 matter as a supposed ' fundamental necessity of reason ' ; 
 and it was my notion ^tliat if the idea in question could 
 reaUy be shown to have its ground in this, a good deal 
 would be made out for it. A belief which, according to 
 Mr Sully, is shown to ' arise from the inherent laws of the 
 mind itself,' and, as doing so, is found universal in its opera- 
 tion, seems much in the same case ; it is scarce to be dis- 
 missed (in Mr Sully's phrase elsewhere) as a mere ' vagary 
 of subjective consciousness,' seeing it seems to have all 
 the authority which can be claimed for a natural belief : it 
 is, in fact, as in terms defined, something very like a genuine 
 datum of consciousness ; and as such — if so admitted — 
 would have been held by Mr Mill himself unimpeach- 
 able. As to how far, again, a natural belief, even if so ad- 
 mitted, may be guarantee to us of what Mr Sully calls ' a 
 real objective origin,' this is precisely the most perplexed 
 problem in metaphysics ; and as, meantime, I don't in the 
 least see my way in it, and have nearly no hope of ever 
 being able to do so, I am naturally indisposed to discuss it 
 with Mr Sully or any one else. 
 
 I have above spoken of the lelief in Free-will (meaning 
 practical feeling or consciousness) as universal, though of 
 course quite aware, in so doing, that its universality may be 
 very stiffly denied. The denial (supposed) does not, how- 
 ever, prove much. It seems to prove merely what before we 
 very well knew, that a philosopher sufliciently cursed with a 
 ' theory ' will deny almost anything whatever which he 
 finds to be in serious conflict with it ; will deny his own 
 nose, if need be, and might even, in the enthusiasm of 
 
Mr Mill at least had it. 247 
 
 science — as emulous of the sainted Origen — go the length of 
 cutting it off in order to make good his case. Mr Sully is, 
 I should suppose, one of these scientific enthusiasts. ' No 
 ' doubt,' he says, ' there are other facts, besides those 
 ' named, which may help to account for the belief w certain 
 ' minds. For to those who have given hut little thought to 
 ' the subject, any slight misapprehension of volitional phe- 
 ' nomena will be sufficient to confirm and sustain a belief 
 ' taught them by the traditional unexamined philosophy 
 ' which circulates through a large part of society.' One of 
 these ' certain minds ' in which ' the belief was sustained,' 
 was the mind of Mr John Stuart MUl. This I have irre- 
 fragably shown ; I have proved what is too palpable to be 
 denied, when decisively pointed out (though possibly some 
 rash admirers of Mr MiU may be found bold enough to deny 
 it), that Mr MiU could scarce on this subject write two con- 
 secutive pages without sliding into modes of statement 
 which are absolutely without meaning at all, except as 
 ' ipso facto committing him ' (Mr Sully's phrase) to a 
 belief in the article of Freedom. That Mr Mill ' could have 
 helped' his every voluntary action is — as we have seen — 
 expressly and repeatedly vouched to us under his own hand 
 as his genuine feeling and belief. 
 
 It wlU scarce be alleged that he ' had given but little 
 thought to the subject,' seeing he has himself told us (see 
 Autobiography) that for long his most painful and per- 
 plexed cogitation had been given to it, as to a matter of 
 spiritual life or death, as in a sense it may almost be said to 
 be. Few minds of our time can have been more thoroughly 
 emancipated than his from 'the traditional unexamined 
 philosophy which circulates through a large part of society;' 
 and as to ' misapprehensions of volitional phenomena,' to 
 
248 Probably other People also. 
 
 whioli he had given much of his attention, he was perhaps 
 as little likely to he guilty of them as even Mr Sully him- 
 self. The depth and pertinacity of the conviction can scarce 
 he more clearly demonstrated than as thus, in its continuing 
 to dominate such a mind as that of Mr Mill, despite his 
 express and even contemptuous polemic against it. It may, 
 however, as Mr Sully phrases it, ' rest on mere vagaries of 
 subjective consciousness ; ' hut whether or no so resting, it is 
 certain Mr Mill's consciousness testified to it in the plainest 
 VTay. He denied this, of course, or sought to deny it (in 
 express terms he never did or would, as shown — see p. 30 
 et sp.q.); but this only proves, as before said, that a philo- 
 sopher will deny anything if his theory requires of him 
 denial. 
 
 I venture to think it probable that the practical feehng or 
 consciousness of both Professor Bain and Mr SuUy^ — if in 
 either case we could get at it quite accurately — would also 
 be found to testify to Freedom, defined as a power in us to 
 help our actions. People who follow Mr Mill in believing 
 that moral sequences (seep. 185, 186) are 'susceptible of 
 counteraction or modification'- — that though a material se- 
 quence is ' resistless,' the sequences which determine ' human 
 action ' are resistible — need not hesitate to follow him far- 
 ther, and also accept along with him what is really an iden- 
 tical proposition. 
 
 A man's practical feeling (or consciousness) in regard 
 of this or any other matter is one thing ; his speculative 
 theory, belief, conviction — or what you wiU — is something 
 quite different : and it is really a pity that a distinction so 
 obvious as this (which a child might be supposed able to 
 appreciate) should be so persistently ignored as it seems to 
 
Confusion on the Subject. 249 
 
 be, by really profound philosophers. My ' practical feel- 
 ing' as regards anything I do is, that I could 'have 
 helped ' doing it, and done othenoise ; not in the entirely 
 stupid sense that I could have done otherwise, had I so 
 willed (which is obvious), but that I could have otherwise 
 so willed, and done. If any man tells me that his ' practical 
 feeling' in the matter is otherwise — that he, for his part, 
 practically feels that in nothing ' can he help ' doing as he 
 does, be it for good or evil — I have simply to say — I doiHt Re- 
 lieve him. I believe him to be involved in the helpless con- 
 fusion above indicated ; he is incapable of distinguishing be- 
 tween what is really his practical feeling in the matter, and 
 the speculative belief to which he is intellectually pledged. 
 As habitually regarding his consciousness through some 
 mist of his reasoned preconceptions, he is incapable of an 
 accurate observation and candid notation of its contents. 
 
 But after all, as Mr Sully of course knows, the announce- 
 ment of Freedom as given us directly in Consciousness is not 
 by most of its advocates considered the specially strong point 
 of the position; and by Hamilton, in particular, so very little 
 stress is laid on it, that Mr Mill is even disposed to ques- 
 tion whether he distinctly commits himself to any such an- 
 nouncement — 'he speaks' as to the point, says Mr Mill, 
 ' with some appearance of doubt.' Since Kant, and — as 
 following him in England — Coleridge, most writers in behalf 
 of Freedom seem mainly disposed to rely on the argument 
 in which it is indirectly assumed as an implication of the 
 Moral Consciousness, which, failing of Freedom as its 
 ground, must be sceptically disposed of as illusory. And 
 to this line of argument I have not as yet seen any answer 
 attempted which did not seem to me — sans phrase about it 
 
250 The Moral Argument. 
 
 - — simply so much mere sophistry and subterfuge. In the 
 very few hints which Mr Sully throws out on this part of 
 the subject (and, in accordance with the scheme of his 
 paper, he could only incidentally glance at it), I do not find 
 anything novel, or such as leads me to suppose that a fuller 
 development of his views would result in an exception in 
 his favour. 
 
Catise. 
 
 251 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 Mr Mill's Psychological Theory of Matter. 1 
 
 {Pendant to Note, p. 147). 
 
 I AM at a loss to conjecture how Mr Mill would reply to 
 tMs, or any one else in his interest. It is chiefly in its 
 function as caiise — the admitted (or assumed) cause of our 
 sensations — that matter — a non-Ego, so called — has any 
 speculative interest for us. Any ' theory of matter,' 
 therefore, which comes decisively to grief in regard of this 
 causal relation, may, without further ' curious inquiry,' be 
 civilly set aside as a figment of the idle brain, and merely a 
 worthless irrelevance. Mr MUl's ' Psychological Theory of 
 a Belief in the External World ' is, as I hope to be able to 
 show in a few very rapid sentences, precisely in this sad 
 predicament. The cardinal consideration of cause could 
 not, of course, be absent from Mr Mill's mind ; and is 
 treated of in his Discussion expressly, and even elaborately. 
 What, then, is the cause of sensation assigned in Mr Mill's 
 'Psychological Theory'? Surprising as it surely must be 
 thought, Mr Mill's cause of sensation is nothing else than 
 sensation itself, in what he calls its ' permanent possibili- 
 ties.' Out of simple or primary sensation, Mr Mill can 
 
 ■■■ This paper was in substance written whilst Mr John Stuart Mill 
 still lived ; I have not cared to recast it, but give it originally as 
 composed, ad Jtominem. 
 
252 Mr Mill's Cause of Sensaiion. 
 
 cleverly evolve these by a ' psychological method ' all his 
 own ; and when evolved, he makes them do duty as 
 cause of the very sensations out of which he has evolved 
 or conglomerated them. A priori, I should have held it 
 unlikely that a man like Mr Mill should commit himself to 
 such a speculation as this ; but the proof that he has done 
 so is clear. Sensations, as originally given, are under cer- 
 tain laws of association and so forth (I must be excused 
 from exhibiting the process, which I only imperfectly un- 
 derstand — readers are referred to Mr Mill for it), worked up 
 into certain conglomerates ; and these conglomerates (pos- 
 sibilities of sensation, so called) we are seriously asked to 
 accept as cause of the sensations themselves I The ab- 
 surdity is as patent and monstrous as if, on my inquiry as 
 to the cause of a little heap of oats, let us say (one illustra- 
 tion will do as well as another), it should presto be ground 
 into meal, and a cake should be baked of it and put before 
 me. No grosser confusion in the inversion of cause and 
 effect — for I suppose that the oats, plus of course the 
 miller and the cook, are to be held the authentic cause of 
 the cake (as the primary sensations, plus the associative 
 laws, must be held the cause in the other case) — will readily, 
 unless I mistake, be found in any philosopher. 
 
 The utmost that can be said for Mr Mill here, by himself 
 or by any one else, is, that he has merely exhibited certain 
 mental processes (and meant to do no more, as indeed is 
 really the case), whereby, from the basis of primitive sensa- 
 tion, by inseparable association, &c., it is possible or con- 
 ceivable that his ' permanent possibilities of sensation ' 
 might first be formed as conglomerates, and afterwards, as 
 illusively objectified, come to figure as a veritable non-Ego, 
 or true cause of sensation. And undoubtedly this is quite 
 
Mr Mill's Cmise. 253 
 
 conceivable j as indeed is any other nonsense, by people who 
 do not clearly see it to be nonsense. But surely nothing 
 can be much more obvious than that the cause of primitive 
 sensation can by no possibility he a conglomerate or so- 
 caUed ' possibility ' of sensation, which is only gradually 
 compacted aftenoards ! 
 
 "Would Mr Mill be pleased ±0 observe that of the very 
 first sensation developed in the Ego, a cause must be asked 
 for and given. That cause must either be the Ego itself, 
 or some form of a non-Ego. Mr Mill may have his choice 
 of the two ; and perhaps he will not refuse to admit that 
 this cause — whatever it may be — as sufficient for the first 
 sensation, must needs be sufiicient for the second, for the 
 third, and so of the whole subsequent series. Mr MUl's 
 psychologically concocted cause — or [quasi) non-Ego of 
 permanent possibilities — is thus impeached as superfluous, 
 a vera causa already existing, competent to all the pheno- 
 mena. And besides being superfluous, it is also, as we have 
 seen, ridiculous in the inversion of cause and effect, a certain 
 conglomerate of sensation being gravely produced to account 
 for its own constituent antecedents. On which surely suf- 
 ficient grounds, Mr Mill's psychologically concocted substi- 
 tute for the non-Ego of reason and consciousness may per- 
 emptorily, and without more ado about it, be swept into the 
 dreary limbo of things abortive and inane. We need not 
 the less sincerely admire and respect the ingenuity shown 
 in its concoction. But nobody ever yet called in question 
 Mr Mill's philosophical ingenuity. And, in fact, it is no- 
 where displayed to more advantage than in this grotesquely 
 unhappy speculation. In brief, the caxwe of primitive sen- 
 sation cannot possibly be sensation itself in any of its subse- 
 quent developments ; and a " theory," such as that of Mr 
 
2 54 Cannot be the Vera Causa. 
 
 Mill, whioli has no other cause of it to offer, seems in very 
 evil case as a theory. 
 
 ' The sensations,' writes Mr Mill, ' though the original 
 '•foundation of the loliole, come to be looked upon as a sort of 
 ' accident depending on us, and the possibilities as much 
 ' more real than the actual sensations, nay, as the very reali- 
 ' ties of which these are' only the representations or effects.^ 
 Again, ' The whole set of sensations as possible form a per- 
 ' manent background to any one or more of them that are, at 
 ' any given moment, actual; and the possibilities are conceived 
 ' as standing to the actual sensations in the relation of a cause 
 ' to its effects.' Primitive sensation, that is, admitted by Mr 
 Mill as ' the original foundation of the whole,' comes to be 
 ' conceived of ' by us as an effect (so Mr Mill tells us), the 
 eause of which is a subsequent development of sensation ! ! 
 
 ' Psychology,' says Hamilton (Lectures, vol. ii. p. 425), 
 ' proposes to exhibit the mental phenomena in their natural 
 ' consecution, that is, as they condition and suppose each 
 ' other. A system which did not accomplish this could make 
 ' no pretension to be a veritable exposition of our internal 
 'life.' In its outrage of all 'natural consecution' I decline 
 to accept Mr Mill's speculation as ' a veritable exposition,' 
 &o. As the cause of sensation assigned in Mr Mill's expo- 
 sition can by no possibility be the vera causa, which must 
 plainly be sought elsewhere, it has no relation, save of falsity, 
 to the actual fact of the matter ; and I submit that a specu- 
 lation, thus shown to be metaphysically worthless, cannot 
 be psychologically valuable. That in the sane and normal 
 exercise of our faculties we are ' psychologically ' deter- 
 mined to error, as under a natural necessity to ' conceive of 
 this or any other matter, under forms of the merest absur- 
 dity, seems itself an absurd proposition. In the light of all 
 
Passage from Destutt Tracy. 255 
 
 this I consider I was fully justified in saying, as I did (p. 
 147), that Mr MiU, in assuming sensation, and proceeding 
 to manipulate it as a fact of which no explanation is needed, 
 did reaUy fling hlindly at his heels the very problem he was 
 bound to elucidate for us. 
 
 Mr Mill's definition of Matter, so called, as a ' permanent 
 possibility of sensation,' has been praised by a friendly 
 critic as being, from the point of view of the idealist, ' the 
 happiest and most exact that has yet been given.' It is 
 scarcely, however, Mr Mill's, who has ' conveyed ' it from 
 M. Destutt Tracy. Of Destutt Tracy I know positively 
 nothing, except from a passage (which Mr Mill may be as- 
 sumed to have read) quoted by Professor Bain at the end of 
 his volume entitled ' The Emotions and the Will.' It may 
 be worth while to quote it in extenso ; inasmuch as, besides 
 the coincidence — so call it — with Mr Mill, it is in itself 
 suggestive of some little criticism. ' The following extracts 
 ' from Destutt Tracy,' writes Professor Bain, ' are a true 
 ' statement of our position in reference to the perception of 
 ' the external world.' (By the our he may be supposed to 
 imply generally the school of thought to which he belongs.) 
 
 ' II s'ensuit de la ' (for brevity's sake, as beside the pre- 
 sent purpose, I suppress two previous paragraphs — the 
 italics are Professor Bain's) ' que nos perceptions sont tout 
 pour nous ; que nous ne connaissons jamais rien que nos 
 perceptions ; qu'elles sont les seules choses vraiment r^elle 
 pour nous, et que la r^alit^ que nous reconnaissons dans 
 les etres qui nous les causent, n'est que second aire, et ne 
 consiste que dans le pouvoir permanent de faire toujours les 
 memes impressions dans les memes cir Constances, soit k nous, 
 soit h d'autres etres sensibles qui nous en rendent compte.' — 
 Ideologie. 
 
256 Criticism of it. 
 
 It would have been well for Mr Mill if, taking so much 
 of Tracy's definition, he had taken it tout entier, as it is just 
 possible a due consideration of these indispensable ' etres 
 qui nous Les causent ' might have suggested to him some 
 more rational explanation of the matter than he has reached 
 in his own ' Theory.' 
 
 To pass to consideration of the passage itself, which, as it 
 seems to me, is involved in gross contradiction. We are 
 told ' que nos perceptions sont tout pour nous.' Yet pre- 
 sently after, we hear tell of ' la rdalitd que nous reconnais- 
 sons dans les etres qui nous les causent.' Surely, if these 
 are 'etres qui nous les causent,' they are as accurately to be 
 held jpo^i" nous, as the resulting perceptions themselves 
 are. The perceptions are thus, then, not '■tout pour 
 nous,' as they were said to be ; we must supplement 
 them, as also ' pour nous,' by ' les etres qui nous les 
 causent ; ' and these etres must be ' vraiment r^elles,' or 
 real entities, otherwise they could have no ' pouvoir de faire,' 
 i.e., could not possibly function as causes. To say that the 
 reality we recognise in them ' n'est que secondaire,' is really 
 nothing to the purpose. Of course, in a sense, their reality 
 is secondary — secondary in the order of thought or cogni- 
 tion, primary in the order of existence, inasmuch as a 
 cause must needs be conceived of (except now and then 
 by Mr John Stuart Mill) as antecedent of its own effect. 
 But the reality is equally in either case ' vraiment r^eUe ' 
 and 'pour nous.' Our perceptions are not, then, as alleged, 
 ' les seules choses vraiment reelles pour nous.' We have 
 thus given us, in the passage quoted, the Ego, as determined 
 in sense-perception — an Etre, or real entity, as cause, deter- 
 mining it to its sense -perceptions. And, unless as reso- 
 lute to evade a difficulty, Professor Bain and his friends 
 
Professor Bain a Dualist. 257 
 
 choose to take up witli a seZ/-deterininiiig Ego, this raal 
 entity as cause must needs be external to the percipient 
 mind ; in other words, as solid and efficient a non-Ego as 
 any natural dualist needs desire, were it even Sir William 
 Hamilton himself. The sole question which could arise 
 would he as to the particular mochcs in which this indisput- 
 able non-Ego is come at — whether by immediate or direct 
 intuition a la Hamilton, or by a necessary inference of 
 reason from an effect back to its cause. And as this pre- 
 sumed inference of reason — supposing it to exist — is so 
 natural, spontaneous, and inevitable, that a very small child 
 is competent to it, in whom reason yet sleeps in the germ 
 (for, as Mr Mill admits, 'the Ego and non-Ego are clearly 
 ' developed notions, except in the very beginnings of con- 
 ' sciousness'), the distinction between the two statements — 
 though, indeed, it might be possible to split hairs about it — 
 seems so trivial that it may very well be held non-existent. 
 TJiis, then, is what Professor Bain puts before us as ' a true 
 statement of our position in reference to the perception of 
 the external world.' Professor Bain (and along with him 
 all the gentlemen who choose to be included in the our) is a 
 2)seudo-ideaiist, who really ought with due convenient speed 
 to migrate to the camp of Eeid and Hamilton. Mr Mill, on 
 the other hand, is, no doubt, a very thorough-going idealist, 
 but at what a price paid for it in absurdity, we have seen. 
 He is not, however, a Berkeleyan, as some people call him, 
 and perhaps he would choose to be considered. Berkeley's 
 — whatever otherwise may be thought of it — is, at least, so 
 far as it goes, a consistent and logical scheme of thought ; 
 and whilst questioning our sense-perceptions as guarantee of 
 anything external to the mind, such as we popularly call 
 matter, he subsumes the Deity as cause of them. Berke- 
 R 
 
258 Permanent Possibilities. 
 
 ley's Deity as cause has no place in Mr Mill's speculation j 
 and the only cause of sensation assigned in it is the 
 wretched ineptitude of which, in the above, I have sought 
 to make some little exposition and exposure. 
 
 Farther, it seems to me that Mr Mill, in announcing his 
 ' permanent possibilities of sensation ' as a substitute for 
 the non-Ego, as hitherto understood, is merely throughout 
 deluding himself with a form of words without meaning. 
 I have said (p. 147) : ' It seems to admit of question indeed, 
 ' whether the element oi permanence — on which plainly lies 
 ' the stress of the proof — is fairly deduced from the premises. 
 ' To myself it looks a little as if Mr Mill, more suo, rather 
 ' smuggles it in as he proceeds, making quiet " conveyance " 
 ' of it from the material world, some eidolon of which he 
 ' is engaged in trying to construct, than exhibits it as in 
 ' rational process evolved.' 
 
 Now this, it will be found, on closer examination, is pre- 
 cisely what Mr Mill has done. ' What is it we mean,' 
 asks Mr Mill, ' when we say that the object we perceive is 
 ' external to us, and not a part of our own thoughts 1 "We 
 ' mean that there is in our perceptions something which 
 ' exists when we are not thinking of it ; which existed 
 ' before we had even thought of it, and would exist if 
 ' we were annihilated. This idea of something which is 
 ' distinguished from our fleeting impressions by what, in 
 ' Kantian language, is called PerdurabUity — something 
 ' which is fixed and the same while our impressions 
 ' vary, &c. — constitutes altogether our idea of external sub- 
 ' stance. Whoever can assign an origin to this complex con- 
 ' ception has accounted for what we mean by the belief in 
 ' matter.' And Mr Mill, ' according to the Psychological 
 
Deduction of Permanence. 259 
 
 ' Theory,' proceeds to ' assign an origin to this complex con- 
 ' ception.' Its origin is assigned, thus — 
 
 'I see a piece of white paper on a table. I go into 
 ' another room, and though I have ceased to see it, I am 
 ' persuaded that the paper is still there. I no longer have 
 ' the sensations which it gave me ; but I believe that when 
 ' I again place myself in the circumstances in which I had 
 ' these sensations, that is, when I go again into the room ' 
 (2.6., place myself again in presence of the paper), 'I shall 
 ' again have them ; and farther, that there has been no inter- 
 ' vening moment at which this would not have been the 
 ' case. Owing to this law of my mind, my conception of 
 ' the world at any given instant consists, in only a small 
 ' proportion, of present sensations. The conception I form 
 ' of the world existing at any moment, comprises, along with 
 ' the sensations I am feeling, a countless variety of possibili- 
 ' ties of sensation, namely, &c. These various possibilities 
 ' are the important thing to me in the world. My present 
 ' sensations are generally of little importance, and are, more- 
 ' over, fugitive ; the possibilities, on the contrary, are per- 
 ' manent, which is the character that mainly distinguishes 
 ' our idea of substance or matter from our notion of 
 ' sensation.' 
 
 Mr Mill undertakes to ' assign an origin to this complex 
 conception ' — of Perdurability or permanence ; he forthwith 
 sets before us a concrete instance of it, in terms in nothing 
 to be distinguished from those which would be used by the 
 stanchest realist; and presently he proceeds as above — 
 'The possibilities, on the contrary, are permanent^ But 
 apart from the instance in the concrete — the substantial 
 piece of white paper — from which he makes illicit ' convey- 
 
2 6o Groimd of Permanence. 
 
 anoe' of it, his element oi permanence is nowhere ; he stood 
 hound to exhihit it in the abstract, as a rational deduction 
 from his premises, and he makes not the smallest attempt to 
 do so. And perhaps it was as well that he should not ; for 
 if — and such is the gist of his speculations — there be no 
 permanent Ego, and no permanent non-Ego, it is not quite 
 easy to see how any ground of permanence can be come at.^ 
 M"ot the less some ground of the permanence which he 
 ascribes to his ' possibilities of sensation,' Mr Mill is bound 
 to assign, if his speculation is to be held worth anything ; 
 and the only rational ground of permanence for possibili- 
 ties of sensation, or of anything else, is the existence of per- 
 manent causes. ' Possibilities of sensation ' imply, as their 
 ground, causes of sensation ; abolish all causes of sensation, 
 and you plainly abolish all 'possibilities' of it; unless, in- 
 deed, it be iMssiUe — as Mr Mill, in terms of his ' theory,' is 
 clearly bound to maintain — that effects should occur without 
 causes, save merely absurd and illusory ones. These ' pos- 
 sibilities of sensation,' writes Mr Mill, ' are conditional 
 certainties ; ' and if anything seems plain, it might, I think, 
 be held to be this, that the indispensable condition of cer- 
 tainty for any sensation as an effect, is the presence and 
 efficiency of a cause of the special sensation. Possibilities of 
 sensation (to quote Mr Mill himself in another relation — see 
 
 1 It should seem, from a passage in Mr Mill's Appendix to these 
 chapters in his Fourth Edition, that precisely some such ohjection as 
 the above had been pressed on him by other critics ; and (see p. 251) 
 he does what he can to elude it — with not, I think, the least suc- 
 cess. I fail to see that in this supplementary deliverance any ground 
 of permanence for the ijossibilities of sensation is set forth, save only 
 in the concrete instances adduced, from which illicit conveyance is 
 made of it. 
 
Sole possible Ground of it. 261 
 
 p. 12) 'are not real entities wliich can be felt as present 
 ' when no effect foUows ; they are abstract names for the 
 ' happening of the effect, on the concurrence of the needful 
 ' conditions ; ' and plainly the one ' needful condition ' of 
 any effect whatever is the antecedence of its appropriate 
 cause. By ' permanent possibilities of sensation,' Mr MUl 
 must thus — as presumed a rational person — be held to mean 
 (or imply as their ground, which is pretty much the same 
 thing) permanent causes of sensation ; and it is solely as a 
 permanent entity guaranteed as cause of sensation, that 
 any one was ever asked, or can be asked, to believe in the 
 non-Ego of matter, or the existence of the external world. 
 Mr MiU is thus, as it seems to me, tied up to admit, as 
 cause, the non-Ego which he is doing what little he can to 
 argue out of existence. Unless, indeed — as Mr MUl might 
 almost seem to suppose — possibilities of sensation can sub- 
 sist, when all causes of sensation are abolished, — which is 
 not the less — pace Mr Mill — a palpably frantic proposition. 
 "When Mr MUl, therefore, writes, as we have seen him do, 
 of his ' permanent possibilities of sensation ' — except as 
 they imply as their ground the causal non-Ego which it is 
 the express aim of his theory to discredit — he merely, as 
 I said, deludes himself with a form of words, to which I 
 myself do not find it possible — after trying ever so — to 
 attach any rational meaning whatever. 
 
 Of Mr MiU's ' Psychological Theories ' I have nothing 
 farther to say. One more remark I may permit myself, and 
 it is simply this — that it is to me a little astounding that 
 such speculations — being, as they are, so worthless — should 
 have met with the acceptance accorded to them. 
 
EEEATA. 
 
 Page 58. Since these sheets were printed off, dipping in the 
 'Memoirs of the Duke de Snlly,' I find that as regards Ravaillac, 
 my memory has played me false. I have said — "seeing he was a 
 priest," &c. — whereas he was not a priest, but only a lay-brother. 
 As I was putting a supposed case, let us suppose him to have been 
 a priest, and my text may remain as it is. In no case can my 
 ignorant blunder in the least affect my argument, though, on my 
 becoming aware of it, I may just as well point it out. 
 
 Page 93, note — "action of which, as motive," &o. — read motiiii. 
 

 
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