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BENTHAMIMA: 
 
 SELECT EXTKACTS FEOM THE WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 JEEEMY BENTHAM. 
 
 WITH AN OUTLINE OP HIS OPINIONS ON THE PRINCIPAL 
 SUBJECTS DISCUSSED IN HIS WORKS. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 JOHN HILL BURTON, 
 
 ADVOCATE. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 LEA & BLANCHARD. 
 
 1844. 
 
** Multse in iUo artes, multa prsecepta sint, muUarum cetatum ex- 
 empla; sed in unum conspirata. In quibus, si neque ea qus jam 
 Tibi sunt cognitaasperneris nee quse ignota sunt vites, inveniesplu- 
 rima, qu% Bit aut voluptati legere, aut cultui legisse, aut usui me- 
 minisse." — Macrobii Saturnalia, 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 The present may be objected to as a scarcely justifiable use 
 of the termination " Ana," the application of which has gene- 
 rally been confined to anecdotes of the persons whose name is 
 attached to it, or reports of the criticisms and remarks which 
 they have issued in the course of familiar conversation. To 
 those who attribute a strict meaning to the forAi of expression, 
 the editor will not probably be able to justify himself; but to 
 the more charitable, he takes the liberty of pleading, — that 
 there is no particular class of writing to which the term Ana is 
 uniformly applied, — that in the multitude of volumes to which 
 this popular designation is given, no two are precisely alike in 
 the character of their contents, — that the form of expression, 
 indeed, is one which seems to be used just in those cases where 
 the miscellaneous character of the collection it applies to, for- 
 bids the employment of a more formal title; and, finally, that 
 from other collections of Ana, extracts from the published 
 works of the person they commemorate are not excluded. The 
 editor of this collection indeed felt, that, in a term admitting of 
 some vagueness and license in its application, he might find a 
 favourable means of conveying • a characteristic impression of 
 the nature of the work. It is not a selection of those portions 
 of Bentham's writings which contain the fullest and most va- 
 luable expositions of his philosophy. It is not an attempt to 
 convey the essence of his opinions, by selecting the passages 
 in which they are best enunciated, and suppressing those which 
 are redundant or obscure — an object which those imbued with 
 
Vm INTRODUCTORy NOTICE. 
 
 the popular notion of the prolixity and obscurity of his writings 
 may not unaptly anticipate. It is not even a classified collec- 
 tion of extracts for the purpose of exhibiting a series of illus- 
 trations of the author's method of treating the various subjects 
 on which his versatile pen was for sixty years engaged. It 
 would convey an erroneous impression, to say that the nature 
 of the subject, and the justice of the reasoning, have been in 
 no case the motive for selecting a particular passage; but the 
 qualities which the editor has generally sought, have been rather 
 in the method of announcing them, than in the opinions pro- 
 mulgated. It has been remarked by several of the critical 
 writers of the day, whose opinions deserve and receive the 
 highest respect, that among Bentham's writings there are num- 
 berless passages, of which the brilliant wit, the lively illustra- 
 tion, the spirited eloquence, and the expressive clearness, are 
 not excelled in the works of any writer of the English language. 
 It was conceived that, among those who support his opinions, 
 as well as among those who are either indifferent or hostile to 
 them, there might be many to whom a selection of those pas- 
 sages in Bentham's works which appear to be chiefly distin- 
 guished for merit of a simply rhetorical character, might be 
 considered no unwelcome contribution to the literature of the 
 country. It is often in the midst of long and arduous processes 
 of reasoning, or in the course of elaborate descriptions of mi- 
 nute practical arrangements, demanding from the reader severe 
 thought and unflagging attention, that the most pleasing illus- 
 trations of playfulness, or pathos, or epigrammatic expression, 
 are imbedded. He was himself singularly careless in the dis- 
 tribution of these portions of his intellectual riches. His mission 
 he considered, especially in his later years, to be that of an in- 
 structor and improver; and the flowers which, equally with 
 more substantial things, were the produce of his vigorous intel- 
 lect he looked upon as scarcely worthy of passing attention, and 
 deserving of no more notice than to be permitted to grow where- 
 ever the more valued objects of his labours left them a little 
 room. 
 
 Several of the passages in this selection will naturally be 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. IX 
 
 found to contain pretty ample illustrations of the Author's 
 method of reasoning, and of the conclusions to which he ar- 
 rived, on many of the subjects which he most prominently 
 discussed. The person who is ambitious, however, of not 
 merely reading portions of Bentham's Works, but of study- 
 ing his system, would do hira injustice by believing that any 
 of his processes of reasoning, even on secondary subjects, can 
 be fully and satisfactorily developed in the passages which 
 follow. It IS, moreover, generally in those of his works 
 where there is the smallest proportion of ornamental writing, 
 that the processes of reasoning are the most continuous and 
 conclusive, and the' most valuable to the Political and Phi- 
 losophical student. In this respect, there is a great difference 
 between the author's earlier and his later works. At an early 
 period of his life, he had studied the formation of a pure style 
 with great industry and success. He had a vivid and teeming 
 fancy. He had enriched his mind with a multitudinous read- 
 ing in every description of work which presented him with 
 illustrations of the operations of the human mind in all ages, 
 and in all parts of the world. He possessed, to an eminent 
 degree, the faculty of arranging and adapting the knowledge 
 thus acquired, to second and assist the operations of abstract 
 reasoning, and to send forth his philosophy to the world, il- 
 lustrated, and attractively adorned. As he advanced in life, 
 he gradually changed his method; or perhaps it may be 
 said, he allowed the most remarkable feature of his mind — 
 his power of abstract reasoning — to master the others. It 
 seemed to be a feeling which acquired greater force in his 
 mind every day, that the time at his disposal was too valuable 
 to be devoted to the art of pleasing; that there was a vast 
 world of important subjects rising before him, which, even 
 were he to live to the longest duration of the life of man, he 
 could not with his utmost zeal and industry, exhaust; and that 
 it was his duty to look to no other qualities in his style of 
 composition, but those which were most eminently fitted to 
 announce his reasoning with precision and accuracy. On this 
 
 1* 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 principle, he constructed a nomenclature for his own use, which 
 has provoked no small amount of ridicule; but he was enabled 
 to bear the laughter, when- he remembered that, by always 
 using the same word for the same thing, he not only abbrevi- 
 ated his own labours, but rendered his meaning more distinct. 
 Much has been said of the intricacy and obscurity of the sen- 
 tences in his later works. That they are complex is in many 
 instances true; but that they are obscure and dubious, is so 
 much the reverse of the fact, that their complexity arises, in a 
 great measure, from the anxiety with which he guarded them 
 against the possibility of their meaning being mistaken. So 
 anxious is he that the mind should not, even for a passing mo- 
 ment, adopt a different understanding from that which he 
 wishes to impress on it, that he introduces into the body of 
 his sentences, all the limitations, restrictions, and exceptions, 
 which he thinks may apply to the proposition broadly stated. 
 It may be difficult for the mind to trace all the intricate wind- 
 ings of the sentence: still more difficult to have it in all its pro- 
 portions clearly viewed at one moment; but when this has been 
 accomplished, it is at once clear, that all the apparent prolixity 
 arises from the skill with which the author has made provision, 
 that no man shall have a doubt of what he means to say. In 
 the present collection, the passages in which these peculiarities 
 are chiefly developed, have rather been avoided than preferred; 
 but the reader will probably find a sufficient number of speci- 
 mens to enable him to appreciate their nature and character. 
 It will perhaps serve, in some measure, farther to account for 
 the peculiar aspect of some of Bentham's later works, to ex- 
 plain, that he never prepared any of them for the press. This 
 task he left to others, in the belief that the produce of his la- 
 bours had intrinsic value, and would, through the assistance of 
 editors, be adapted to the uses of society. Actuated by this 
 feeling, when he had laid out his subject for the day, he la- 
 boured continuously on, filling page after page of MS. To 
 the sheets thus filled he gave titles, marginal rubrics, and other 
 facilities for reference; and then he set them aside in his repo- 
 sitories, never touching or seeing them again. 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. XI 
 
 The present is not an occasion for inquiring whether this 
 method fulfilled its author's wishes, and was, what he designed 
 it to be, the most profitable occupation of his time and talents. 
 It must be admitted, however, that whatever compensation it 
 brought in other respect, it lost him readers, and impeded the 
 promulgation of his doctrines. His early works had. acquired 
 a popularity with all classes of readers, which would have done 
 much to prc^itiate favour for a few productions of a less attrac- 
 tive character. It happened, however, that works of the latter 
 class crowded one upon another, until they became accumulated 
 into a mass which overwhelmed and hid from the present gene- 
 ration the few early works which had given instruction and de- 
 light to the eighteenth century. Men gradually learned to 
 speak of Bentham as an unreadable author— a character which 
 received countenance from writers wiio had, in their own per- 
 sons, acknowledged the sterling value of his works, by plun- 
 dering and adopting many of his precious thoughts. It is, in- 
 deed, in these less-adorned works, that the most valuable of 
 Bentham's exposures of 'existing fallacies, and projects of prac- 
 tical amendment are to be found ; and to the reader who is am- 
 bitious of mastering the great truths they contain, it can only be 
 said, that there is no royal road to this department of knowledge, 
 and that to acquire it, he must submit to the labour of steady 
 and continuous study. Although the student who wishes to 
 be master of Bentham's opinions should neither be content with 
 extracts nor abridgments, but should go to his own works, 
 it has been considered that an outline of the Utilitarian Philo- 
 sopher's system might be a useful accompaniment to the pre- 
 sent collection, as supplying a sort of thread on which the va- 
 rious passages may be strung, and in some measure arranged, 
 so as to prevent them from appearing so utterly disconnected 
 as they would otherwise be. It may be mentioned, that no at- 
 tempt has been made to reduce them to a systematic arrange- 
 ment, and they have no farther connexion with each other than 
 that kind of association which usually links together the subjects 
 of familiar conversation. 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 Before concluding this notice, an outline of Bentham's life may 
 not be unacceptable : it will of course, be merely an adaptation 
 of dates, and otiier leading circumstances, from the Memoir by 
 Pr, Bowring, attached to the collected edition of the works. 
 
 Jeremy Bentham was born on the 15th February, 1748, in 
 Red Lion Street, Iloundsditch, London. His father, whose 
 name was Jeremiah, was an active member of the Scriveners' 
 Company, and possessed a very considerable fortune, partly 
 patrimonial, and partly the frpit of his own industry. He was 
 a man of shrewd ambitious character, who had successfully fol- 
 lowed the minor paths to station and wealth. His first wife, the 
 mother of the Philosopher, was named Alicia Grove. She was 
 the daughter of a shopkeeper in Andoyer, who had, however, 
 family connexions of a much higher grade. If it be from his 
 father that Bentham derived his energy and practical sagacity, 
 we may look to his mother as the source of the finer qualities of 
 his intellect and heart. The^e are many illustrations of her 
 character in the memoirs of her son, which show that she had 
 warm affections, and a refined and cultivated mind. 
 
 Much of Bentham's childhood was spent at Browning Hill 
 and Barking, two country seats belonging to his relations. His 
 impressions of the felicity which attended his residence in these 
 retreats, was strong to the end of his life ; and adds another to 
 the many instances which seem to show, that every man of 
 high intellectual attainments has an innate love of nature, and 
 a desire to be among fresh waters and green trees. In each of 
 these country-houses he was allowed to rummage through a 
 library of miscellaneous books — the ordinary travels, histories, 
 and theological works of the age. They were not selected 
 books, and they had not been set in his way as sources of in- 
 struction ; but he was, from the time when he began to read, 
 a voracious devourer of literary information ; and the works 
 which he had thus an opportunity of studying, produced vivid 
 impressions on his mind, and left recollections which attended 
 him in all his after years. In these collections, Locke on the 
 Understanding, Clarendon's History, Kampfer's Japan, and 
 Clarke on the Trinity, stood beside Clarissa Harlow, and Puss 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. KIM 
 
 in Boots, and were all alike welcome to his young and vigo- 
 rous literary appetite. His chief delight, however, was in the pe- 
 rusal of Rapin's England, from which he stored his mind with 
 facts which, from his very early acquisition of them, came clearly 
 and readily to his memory in after life. It was a circumstance 
 remembered by his father, who loved to cherish up every inci- 
 dent connected with the development of his youthful powers, 
 that when he was a child in petticoats, walking out with Mr. 
 and Mrs. Bentham, being tired of the conversation, he ran home, 
 and, having ordered the servants to light candles, and place a 
 desk before him, was found mounted on the table, deeply ab- 
 sorbed in the folio edition of Rapin. 
 
 In Bentham the power of acquiring facts and languages was 
 very early developed ; and he is one of the few instances of pre- 
 cocious boys, whose more mature talents have not been warped 
 or stunted by their being too early forced into growth. It was 
 rather, indeed, a circumstance of incidental good fortune than a 
 presage of his after greatness, that the boy should be fond of 
 reading, and ready in acquiring Greek, French, and Latin ; for, 
 in advanced life, he had a strong discrimination to withdraw 
 any of his time firom the tasks of thinking and composing ; and 
 thus the stock of knowledge which he had laid up in youth, was 
 of eminent service to him. Latin verse have been preserved 
 which he wrote at eight years of age, and Greek which he wrote 
 at twelve. At the latter age he composed a Latin ode on the 
 death of George II. and the accession of George HI., which elici- 
 ted some commendation from Johnson. This effort, and the 
 subject of it, were both characteristic of the early state of Ben- 
 tham's mind, which was filled with a serious and almost devout 
 admiration of every thing that was hallowed by rank and anti- 
 quity. He tells us that the stately eloquence of Clarendon's 
 History, and the solemn service of the Church of England, had 
 early imbued him with a deep veneration for all things con- 
 nected with Royalty and the Church Establishment. The 
 founder of the Utilitarian Philosophy, and of the Radical party in 
 politics, thus entered life as a zealous supporter of Church and 
 
XIV INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 King. He was an admirer of Mansfield, and an ardent partisan 
 of the court in tlie disputes with Wilkes. 
 
 In 1755,Bentham was sent to Westminster School; and in 
 1760, in his thirteenth year, he was entered a Commoner of 
 Queen's College, Oxford. In 1763 he took the degree of 
 Bachelor of Arts. In the same year he took his place as a stu- 
 dent of the Court of King's Bench, and was in due course called 
 to the bar. Bentham's father was an ambitious man. He saw 
 the pre-eminent powers of his son, and he showed no little penetra. 
 tion in judging, that for a mind so inquiring and argumentative, 
 the law was the most promising field. He looked forward 
 through a vista of future greatness, and expected, before he laid 
 his head in the dust, to see his son Jeremy with the Great Seal 
 in his hand — but his expectations were disappointed. Old Ben- 
 tham had, in 1765, married Mrs. Abbot, a clergyman's widow. 
 She had a son — very nearly a contemporary of Jeremy — and it 
 was natural that these two should be started against each other 
 in the race of ambition. It was to the deep mortification of old 
 Bentham that Charles Abbot, bending the whole of his genius 
 aijd industry to professional and political aggrandizement, rose 
 step by step till he became Speaker of the House of Commons, 
 and was called to the House of Peers; while his dreamy con- 
 temporary, with an European reputation, was no more in the 
 eyes of the worldly old man than the obscure son of an abscure 
 attorney. When he had accomplished his first professional ef- 
 forts at the bar, Bentham began to feel a disgust of the profession ; 
 and neither his affection for his parent, nor his naturally active 
 and enterprising spirit ; could induce him to make farther exer- 
 tions in that direction. It was in the solitary hours of reflection, 
 not unmixed, perhaps, with regret, which filled up some years of 
 this period of his life, that he seems to have imagined and de- 
 signed his great project, of attempting to subject to the calm and 
 fii;ed rules of inductive iiavestigation, those departments of hu- 
 man thought and action, where men's passions are most violently 
 excited, and their prejudices most obdurate. 
 The year 1776 was an important epoch in his life. He then 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. XV 
 
 published the " Fragment on Government, " a philosophical criti- 
 cism on the Principles of Government expounded in Black- 
 stone's Commentary, Passages' from it will be found in this 
 collection, (p. 236, and p. 240.) The originality of the thoughts, 
 and the beauty of the language, at once attracted the general 
 attention of reading men to this work. People wondered who 
 could be its author ; and they looked to the leading politicians 
 and thinkers of the age — to Burke, Dunning, and even Mans- 
 field. It was some alleviation to the parent's chagrin, to find 
 that his son had done something to merit the admiration of 
 the wealthy and the powerful; and though he had promised 
 to keep the authorship secret, he could not help letting it 
 transpire. The publisher soon discovered that the old gen- 
 tleman should have held his peace — at least for a time ; for when 
 it became known that the book was' written by an obscure 
 youth who had been unsuccessful at the bar, the rapid sale of 
 copies suddenly stopped. The Fragment was' Soon followed 
 by the more important work, called, " An Introduction to the 
 Principles of Morals- and LejgjglatiQn." It is printed at the com- 
 mencement of the collected edition of ther works ; and the ex- 
 tracts firom it in the following collection will readily be recog- 
 nised. This work attracted the attention of the then head 
 of the cabinet. Lord Shelburne, afterwards Marquis of Lans- 
 downe, who called upon the author, and' commenced with him 
 a friendship which lasted to the end of the marquis's life. The 
 union of these two men, so difierently situated in respect of 
 rank, was perfectly disinterested. Though the one presided at 
 the distribution of honours and rewards, the other wanted no- 
 thing at his hands -, and when the' Peer retired a fallen minister, 
 the young philosopher was the cheerful and respected com- 
 panion of his leisure. Bentham paid the first of a series of 
 visits to Lord Lansdowne's country mansion at Bowood in 
 1781. He there met with a crowd of the great men of the 
 age— with William Pitt, Camden, Barre, Dunning, and young 
 Beckford. K was there that he first became acquainted with 
 two young men who were afterwards to be distinguished 
 
XVI INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 promulgators of his doctrines, Dumont and Romilly; and his 
 visit was the foundation of many lasting friendships. There was, 
 Tiowever, another attachment which he formed at Bowood, to 
 which this term will not apply. He fell in love with a young 
 lady of finely-cultivated intellect, no less remarkable for the 
 high qualities of her heart, than those of her mind. She was 
 a daughter of a noble and distinguished house. She was much 
 younger than the philosopher, and there were many reasons 
 which would have prevented the union from being an expedient 
 one ; and so Bentham seems to have at first felt it. He carried on 
 a playful correspondence with the young lady, and with some of 
 her companions, a few specimens of which will be found at the end 
 of this collection. There is a sort of plaintive and affectionate 
 pleasantry in these productions, which might be supposed to in- 
 dicate a Platonic attachment. But the memory of the scenes of 
 Bowood haunted him ; and, in after years, meeting again with 
 the object of his attention, and thinking that time and circum- 
 stances had somewhat smoothed down the inequalities of their 
 relative position, he made her a proffer of marriage. This oc- 
 curred in 1805, when Bentham was fifty-six years old. The 
 consequence was a rejection ; but it was expressed in a letter 
 full of kind feeling and good wishes, which tended to soften the 
 bitterness of the disappointment. 
 
 Between the years 1785 and 1787, Bentham made a tour 
 through France, the Mediterranean, and Turky, to Crichoff in 
 Russia, where his brother Sir Samuel Bentham, a distinguished 
 mechanical inventor, superintended the establishment of Prince 
 Potemkin. It was while living in retirement in Russia that 
 he composed one of the most pleasingly-written and conclu- 
 sively-reasoned of his minor works — the Defence of Usury. 
 There, too, taking the mechanical genius of his brother to 
 the assistance of his own philosophical inquries regarding the 
 principles of punishment, he framed the plan of prison dis- 
 cipline of which he published' an account under the title of 
 " The Panopticon. " A notice of the leading principles of 
 this plan will be found in the outline appended to this col- 
 lection, (see p. 412.) It attracted the notice of many of the 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. XVU 
 
 statesmen of the age ; and Pitt, who had' a mind fully capable of 
 appreciating ' and supporting any plan for social amelioration 
 which did not interfere with his ambitious pwrojects, rosolved to 
 give it a practical trial. In 1789, Benthafai had written a seriea 
 of Letters in ttie Public Advertiser, which he signed " Anti-Ma- 
 chiavel." They were directed against an attempt by the British 
 Cabinet to break up the alliance betweetl Russia and Denmark. 
 After the publication of the second letter, a brief defence of the . 
 Cabinet made its appearance in the same paper, signed " Par- 
 lizan." Bentham had never much inclination to' retire before 
 an argumentative foe ; and he wrote a rejoinder, pretty sharp 
 and sarcastic. He .was soon afterwards informed by Lord 
 Landsdowne that George III. was himself the author of the 
 letter of Partizan, and knew who was his opponent. His ma- 
 jesty wasnot remarkable either for forgetting or forgiving; and 
 when a contract with Bentham had been adopted" by Parlia- 
 ment, and passed into an act — when the" fixing of a site was all 
 that was wanted to complete the preparation for building the 
 structure — when a site was chosen, and the' sign-manual alone 
 was wanting to complete the transference of the land, and the 
 king refused his signature — it seemed not without some chance 
 of being correct, that the author of the Panopticon attributed to 
 " the best of kings" a desire to mortify his controversial oppo- 
 nent, at the sacrifice of the proper administration of justice. 
 The History of B^tham's' efforts to get a hearing for his "Pli- 
 nopticon Plan, is a sad record of hopes often raised, to be as of- 
 ten overthrown. He was fijJly imbued with the better order of 
 ambition— ^that which longs for a lasting commemoration among 
 mankind, as a benefactor to the species;' and he felt many a 
 keen pang of disappointment, when selfishness, or petty spite, 
 or utter carelessness of the public good, or pig-headed obstinate 
 stupidity, baffled this his favourite project of practical benevo- 
 lence. The Panopticon controversy haunted him, in one shape 
 or other, for thirty years. At one time his whole fortune lay 
 expended' in the preparations for putting it in execution. At 
 length', in 1811, his final hopes were extinguished by the Report 
 
XVim INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 <0f a Select 'Committee, which recommended that, the project 
 should be abandoned, and that its author should receive com- 
 pensation. In 1813 he received, on the award of arbiters mu- 
 tually chosen, £30,000 as compensation for his losses. 
 
 Bentham's Plan of Pauper Management, of which a notice 
 will be found in the Outline, (p. 414,) was one which he like- 
 Avise wished personally to superintend; and he attributed its 
 defeat, after it had received the sanction of Pitt, to the same 
 Jjand which had stopped his Plan of Prison Discipline. In the 
 meantime, Bentham had conceived the desire, about the year 
 1790, of entering parliament, under the auspices of Lord Lands- 
 ^downe. This wish was of short duration: his lordship had 
 many reasons for not being able to comply with it at the time 
 when it was expressed; and Bentham felt that he had other, and, 
 to a mind like his, more important contests to undertake, than 
 those of a partisan champion in the House of Commons. 
 
 Bentham was in the prime of life, and in the full blaze of a 
 reputation which had spread to all the civilized portions of the 
 earth, when the French Revolution burst forth. He was in 
 correspondence with Brissot, and other members of the Gironr 
 dist party ; but he formed a limited opinion of their sagacity, and 
 of the rationality of their doctrines; and frequently represented, 
 that projects which were not firmly based in utility, could afford 
 no satisfactory substitute, for established institutions however 
 defective. He feared the worst results from the spirit which he 
 then saw abroad, and resolved to make at least one great effort 
 in favour of government and order, by preparing a critical ex- 
 amination of the' French Declaration of Rights.* In 1792, he 
 was made a citizen of France, and he took that occasion to ad- 
 minister a dignified rebuke to those whom he considered the 
 most dangerous foes of rational freedom. 
 
 It was about the commencement of the nineteeth century, 
 that Bentham began to exhibit a transition towards that marked 
 change in his style which has been already noticed. At the 
 same time, too, he seems to have begun the rigid system of 
 
 * See a further account of this woiU in the Outline, p. 392. See ex- 
 tracts from it, p. 84, 
 
INTRODUCTORY ITOTICE. XIX 
 
 close retirement which rendered him one of the most unap- 
 proachable men of his day. " There was never a man," says 
 Dr. Bowring, " so desirous of shunning others, unless some " 
 strong sense of duty, or prospect of usefulness, subdued his na- 
 tural tendency to seclusion Once, when 
 
 Madame de Stael called on him, expressing an earnest desire 
 for an audience, he sent to tell her, that he certainly had nothing 
 to say to her, and he could not see the necessity of an inter- 
 view, for any thing she had to say to him. On an occasion 
 when Mr. Edgeworth, in his somewhat pompous manner, called 
 and delivered the following message to the servant, in order to 
 be communicated to Bentham : ' Tell Mr. Bentham, that Mr. 
 Richard Lovell Edgeworth desires to see him,' — he answered: 
 * Tell Mr. Richard Lovell Edgeworth, that Mr. Bentham does 
 not desire to see him.'' " 
 
 In this retirement — partly spent in the country, and partly 
 at his " hermitage," as he aptly termed it, in Q,ueen Square 
 Place Westminster, besides writing the Mass of MSS. of which 
 the collected edition of his works exhibits, after all, but a por- 
 tion,* he carried on an unwearied correspondence with all pub- 
 lic men whose influence he thought there was any chance of 
 his being able to direct in favour of projects for the public good. 
 His retired habits of life appear to have, in the end, imbued him 
 with a simplicity and candour of mind, which made him act as 
 if men in power only wanted to know what was right that they 
 might do it, and induced him to give a, literal belief to all their 
 protestations. He thus became a most formidable and oppres- 
 sive correspondent to the common class of party statesmen. 
 When lie had extracted from any one of them the ordinary ex- 
 pression of a desire to serve the public, he set about, with a most 
 provoking clearness, to show the precise way in which the ser- 
 vice could be accomplished ; and it generally happened, that in 
 
 * Althougli the collected edition of Bentham is one of the largest series 
 of works which has issued from any one author, it does not contain 
 nearly the whole of the IVIS. matter he left behind hira. The whole will, 
 however, be, as far as possible, devoted to the use of the public, by being 
 deposited in the British Maseutn. 
 
XX INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 the end, ^er being hunted from one polite subterfuge to ano- 
 ther, the lime-server was landed in some flat refusal to perform 
 the service he had professed to have at heart, and had his in- 
 consistency thrown in his teeth. The vanity of which Bentham 
 has," riot without an appearance of justice, been accused, arose 
 out of a like simplicity. Whatever was said in his praise, he 
 believed to he sincerely said by the speaker, and he set about 
 immediately to weigh the influence it might have, as a testi- 
 monial of ability, to be of service to mankind. In this spirit he 
 would collect together and publish heaps of testimonials in his 
 favour as a manufacturer of laws, exposing them to the public 
 gaze in a manner which elicited much ridicule from those 
 whose vanity is of a more cautious and selfish cast. It was, 
 undoubtedly, a subject of self-gratulation to one who had, with, 
 so much purity of intention and resolute energy, pursued^ the ob- 
 ject of human amelioration, to find that, in some quarters at 
 least, his exertions were appreciated ; but he disdained all re- 
 course to the usual arts for feeding his love of approbation. He 
 would submit to no popular parade of his person, though many 
 were the efforts made to obtain his personal auspices for politi- 
 cal objects : and he never condescended to return a word of 
 flattery as payment for the praises heaped on him by others. 
 
 Bentham's acquaintance with Dr. Bowring, to whom he con- 
 fided the duty of transmitting his writings to ..posterity, com- 
 menced in 1820. In 1823, the Westminster Review ' was 
 established; the funds were furnished by Bentham; and the 
 editorial duties, at first divided between Dr. Bowring and Mr. 
 Southern, were afterwards performed by Dr. Bowring. They 
 came, at a later period, into the hands of Colonel Perronet 
 Thompson, who, possessing many other claims to notice, has 
 been perhaps the most animated and eloquent of the promulga- 
 tors of the Utilitarian Philosophy. In these his latter days, 
 Bentham had seen the end of all the men of note with whom 
 his early career was associated, and he nibved among the orna- 
 -ments of a new generation. The history of the first forty years 
 of his life is connected with the names of Shelburne, Camden, 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. XXI 
 
 Adam Smith, Hastings, Wilkes, Dunning, Pitt, and Mirabeau ; 
 while the latter portion of his career is associated with those of 
 Cartwright, Brougham, Burdett, Horner, Mill, Mackintosh, Hob- 
 house, O'Connell, Sydney Smith, Mina, and Rammohun Roy. 
 He had lived to see the adoption of many of his at first least 
 popular opinions ; and he died at a time when political events 
 had given a powerful impetus to the progress of his political doc- 
 trines. His death took place on the 6th of June, 1832. 
 
 It has not been thought expedient to load the following 
 extracts with a reference to the particular work or pamphlet 
 from which each of them is taken. The volume and pages, 
 however, in which it may be found in the collected edition of 
 Bentham's works, is appended to each passage; and as the 
 reader may occasionally feel a curiosity to know in which of the 
 Author's works some of the passages first appeared, there follows 
 a list of the works seriatim, with a statement of the volumes 
 and pEiges which they respectively occupy in the collected 
 edition. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 ' Pages. 
 
 1-154 Principles of Morals and Legislatian.—- — ' 
 
 155-168 Essay on the Fromulgatiun of Laws. 
 
 169-194 Influence of time and Place in matters of Legislation. 
 
 195-219 Table of the Springs of Action. 
 
 331.295 Fragment on Government. 
 
 297-358 Principles of the Civil Code. 
 
 358-364 The Levelling System. 
 
 365-580 Principles of Penal Law. 
 
 VOLUME II. 
 
 1-188 Principles of Judicial Procedure. 
 
 189.266 Rationale of Reward. 
 
 267-274 Leading Principles of the Constitutional Code. 
 
 276-297 Letters on the Liberty of the Press and Public Discussion. 
 
 299-373 Essay on Political Tactics. 
 
 375-487 Tbe Book of Fallacies. 
 
 489-534 Anarchical Fallacies. 
 
 535.560 Principles of International Law. 
 
XXII INTRODDCTORy NOTICE. 
 
 Pages 
 
 561-571 Junctiana Proposal, for a junction of the Atlantic and Pacific. 
 
 573 583 Protest against Law Taxes, 
 
 5b5-598 Supply without Burden, or Escheat vice Taxation. 
 
 599-600 Tax with Monopoly. 
 
 VOLUME III. 
 
 1-29 Defence of Usury. 
 
 31 .84 Manual of Political Economy. 
 
 85-103 Observations on the Restrictive and Prohibitory Commercial 
 System. 
 
 105-153 Plan for the Conversion of Stock into Note Annuities. 
 
 155 210 General View of a Complete Code of Laws. 
 
 211-230 Pannomial Fragments. 
 
 231-283 Nomography, or the Art of Inditing Laws. 
 
 285.295 Logical Arrangements, or instruments of Invention and Dia- 
 
 covery. 
 
 297-431 Equity Despatch Court Proposal and Bill. 
 
 433-557 Plan of Parliamentary Reform in the Form of a Catechism. 
 
 558-597 Radical Reform Bill 
 
 599-622 Radicalism not dangerous. 
 
 VOLUME IV. 
 
 1-35 View of the Hard Labour Bill. 
 37-172 Panopticon; or The Inspection House, (a System of Prison 
 Discipline.) 
 
 173-248 Panopticon versus New South Wales. 
 
 249-284 A Plea for The Constitution. 
 
 285-406 Draught of a Code for The Organization of the Judicial Esta- 
 blishment in France. 
 
 407-418 Emancipate your Colonies. 
 
 419-450 On Houses of Peers and Senates. 
 
 451-533 Papers relative to Codification and Public Instruction. 
 
 535.594 Codification Proposal. 
 
 VOLUME V. 
 
 1-53 Scotch Reform — (Administration of Justice in Scotland.) 
 55-60 Plan of a Judicatory to be called The Court of Lords' Delegates. 
 61-186 The Art of Packing Special Juries. 
 187-229 Swear not at all. 
 231-237 Truth versus Ashhurst — or Law as it is, contrasted with what 
 
 it is said to be. 
 239-261 Remarks on the Indictments in " The King against Edmonds," 
 
 &c., and the " King against Wolseley and Harrison." 
 363-386 Ofiieial Aptitude Maximized — Expense Minimized, (a collec- 
 tion of Tracts.) 
 
Pages. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 387-416 Commentary on Mr. Humphery'sRenl Property Code. 
 
 417-435 Outline of a Plan of a General Register of Real Properly! 
 
 437-548 Justice and Codification Petitions. 
 
 549-612 Lord Brougham displayed. 
 
 VOLUME VI. and VIL 
 The Rationale of Evidence. 
 
 VOLUME VIII. 
 
 1-191 Chrestomatliia, (a collection of papers illustrative of a proposed 
 system of education, containing Essays on Nomenclature 
 and Classification, on Geometry and Algebra, &c.} 
 
 192-211 Fragment on Ontology. 
 
 213-293 Essay on Logic. 
 
 295-338 Essay on Language. 
 
 339-357 Fragments on Universal Grammar. 
 
 359-461 Tracts on Poor Laws and Pauper Management. 
 
 463-486 Three tracts on Spanish and Portuguese affairs. 
 
 487-554 Letters to Count Toreno bn The I'roposed Spanish Penal 
 Code. 
 
 555-600 Securities against misrule, adapted to a Mahommedan State. 
 
 VOLUME IX. 
 The Constitutional Code. 
 
 VOLUME X. and XI. 
 Memoirs and Correspondence. 
 
BENTHAMIANA. 
 
 VARIOUS STANDARDS OF RIGHT AND WRONG, 
 
 The various systems that have been formed concerning the 
 standard of right and wrong, may all be reduced to the principle 
 of sympathy and antipathy. One account may serve for all of 
 them. They consist, all of them, in so many contrivances for 
 avoiding the obligation of appealing to any external standard, 
 and for prevailing upon the reader to accept of the author's senti- 
 ment or opinion as a reason, and that a sufficient one, for itself — 
 the phrases different, but the principle the same. 
 
 It is curious enough to observe ihe variety of inventions men 
 have hit upon, and the variety of phrases they have brought for- 
 ward, in order to conceal from the world, and, if possible, from 
 themselves, this very general, and therefore very pardonable 
 self-sufficiency. 
 
 1. One man says, he has a thing made on purpose to tell him 
 what is right and what is wrong; and that it is called a moral 
 sense : and then he goes to work at his ease, and says, such a 
 thing is right, and such a thing is wrong — whyl " because my 
 moral sense tells me it is." 
 
 2. Another man comes and alters the phrase: leaving out 
 moral, and putting eommon in the room of it. He then tells 
 you, that his common sense teaches him what is right and 
 wrong, as surely as the other's! moral sense did; meaning bj 
 common sense, a sense of some kind or other, which, he says, is 
 possessed by all mankind; the sense of those, whose sense is 
 not the same as the author's, being struck out of the account as 
 not worth taking. This contrivance does better than the other; 
 for a moral sense being a new thing, a man may feel about him 
 a good while without being able to find it out: but common sense 
 is as old as the creation; and there is no man but would be 
 ashamed to be thought not to have as much of it as his neigh- 
 
 3 
 
26 STANDARDS OF RIGHT AND WRONG. 
 
 bours. It has another great advantage: by appearing to share 
 power, itlessens envy: for vi^hen a man gets up upon this ground, 
 in order to anathematize those who differ from him, it is not 
 by a sic volo sic jubeo, but by a veiitis juhealis. 
 
 3. Another man comes, and says, that as to a moral sense, in- 
 deed, he cannot find that he has any such thing: that, however, 
 he has an understanding which will do quite as well. This un- 
 derstanding, he says, is the standard of right and wrong: it tells 
 him so and so. All good and wise men understand as he does: 
 if other men's understandings differ in any point from his, so 
 much the worse for them: it is a sure sign they are either de- 
 fective or corrupt. 
 
 4. Another man says, that there is an eternal and immutable 
 Rule of Right: that that rule of right dictates so and so: and 
 then he begins giving you his sentiments upon any thing that 
 comes uppermost: and these sentiments (you are to take for 
 granted, are so many branches of the eternal rule of right.) 
 
 5. Another man, or perhaps the same man (it's no matter) 
 says, that there are certain practices conformable, and others re- 
 pugnant, to the Fitness of Things; and then he tells you, at his 
 leisure, what practices are conformable and what repugnant: 
 just as he happens to like a practice or dislike it. 
 
 6. A great multitude of people are continually talking of the 
 Law of Nature; and then they go on giving you their sentiments 
 about what is right and what is wrong: and these sentiments, 
 you are to understand, are so many chapters and sections of the 
 Law of Nature. 
 
 7. Instead of the phrase. Law of Nature, you have sometimes 
 Law of Reason, Right Reason, Natural Justice, Natural Equity, 
 Good Order. Any of them will do equally well. This latter is 
 most used in politics. The last three are much more tolerable 
 than the others, because they do not veiy explicitly claim to be 
 any thing more than phrases: they insist but feebly upon the 
 being looked upon as so many positive standards of themselves, 
 and seem content to be taken, upon occasion, for phrases ex- 
 pressive of the conformity of the thing in question to the proper 
 standard, whatever that may be. On most occasions, however, 
 it will be better to say utility: utilily is clearer, as referring more 
 explicitly to pain and pleasure. 
 
 8. We have one philosopher, who says, there is no harm in 
 any thing in the world but in telling a lie: and that if, for ex- 
 ample, you were to murder your own father,, this would only be 
 a particular way of saying he was not your father.* Of course, 
 
 » See "The Religion of Nature Delineated." 4to. London, 1724. By 
 Willianj Woolaston. 
 
STANDARDS OF RIGHT AND WRONG. 27 
 
 when this philosopher sees any thing that he does not like, he 
 says it is a particular way of telling a lie; — it is saying that the 
 act ought to be done, or may be done, when, in truth, it ought 
 not to be done. 
 
 9. The fairest and openest of them all is that sort of man who 
 speaks out, and says I am of the number of the Elect: now God 
 himself takes care to inform the Elect what is right: and that 
 with so good effect, that let them strive ever so much, they 
 cannot help not only knowing it but practising it. If, therefore, 
 a man wants to know what is right and what is wrong, he has 
 nothing to do but to come to me. 
 
 It is upon the principle of antipathy that such and such acts 
 are often reprobated on the score of their being unnatural: the 
 practice of exposing children, established among the Greeks and 
 Romans, was an unnatural practice. Unnatural, when it means 
 any thing, means unfrequent: and there it means something; 
 although nothing to the present purpose. But here it means no 
 such thing: for the frequency of such acts is perhaps the great 
 complaint. It therefore means nothing; nothing, I mean, which 
 there is in the act itself. All it can serve to express is, the dis- 
 position of the person who is talking of it: the disposition he is 
 in to be angry at the thoughts of it. Does it merit his anger? 
 Very likely it may; but whether it does or not is a question, 
 which, to be answered rightly, can only be answered upon the 
 principle of utility. 
 
 Unnatural, is as good a word as moral sense, or common sense; 
 and would be as good a foundation for a system. Such an act is 
 unnatural; that is, repugnant to nature: for I do not like to 
 practise it; and, consequently, do not practise it. It is therefore 
 repugnant to what ought to be the nature of every body else. 
 
 The mischief common to all these ways of thinking and 
 arguing (which, in truth, as we have seen, are but one and the 
 same method, couched in different forms of words) is their 
 serving as a cloak, and pretence, and aliment, to despotism: if 
 notadespotism in practice, a despotism, however, indisposition: 
 which is but too apt, when pretence and power offer, to show 
 itself in practice. The consequence is, that with intentions very 
 commonly of the purest kind, a man becomes a torment either 
 to himself or his fellow-creatures. If he be of the melancholy 
 cast, he sits in silent grief, bewailing their blindness and 
 depravity: if of the irrascible, he declaims with fury and viru- 
 lence against all who differ from him; blowing up the coals of 
 fanaticism, and branding, with the charge of corruption and 
 insincerity, every man who does not think, or profess to think, 
 as he does. 
 
28 STANDARDS OF RIGHT AND WRONG. 
 
 If such a man happens to possess the advantages of style, his 
 book may do a considerable deal of mischief before the nothing- 
 ness of it is understood. 
 
 These principles, if such they can be called, it is more frequent 
 to see applied to morals than to politics; but their influence ex- 
 tends itself to both. In politics, as well as morals, a man will be 
 at least equally glad of a pretence for deciding any question in 
 the manner that best pleases him, without the trouble of inquiry. 
 If a man is an infallible judge of what is right and wrong in the 
 actions of private individuals, why not in the measures to be 
 observed by public men in the direction of those actions? accord- 
 ingly, (not to mention other chimeras,) I have more than once 
 known the pretended law of nature set up in legislative debates, 
 in opposition to arguments derived from the principle of utility. 
 
 " But is it never, then, from any other considerations than 
 those of utility, that we derive our notions of right and wrong?" 
 I do not know: I do not care. Whether a moral sentiment can 
 be originally conceived from any other source than a view of 
 utility, is one question: whether upon examination and reflec- 
 tion it can, in point of fact, be actually persisted in and justified 
 on any other ground, by a person reflecting within himself, is 
 another: whether in point of right it can properly be justified 
 on any other ground, by a person addressing himself to the com- 
 munity, is a third. The first two are questions of speculation: 
 it matters not, comparatively speaking, how they are decided. 
 The last is a question of practice: the decision of it is of as much 
 importance as that of any can be. 
 
 " I feel in myself," say you, " a disposition to approve of such 
 or such an action in a moral view: but this is not owing to any 
 notions I have of its being a useful one to the community. I do 
 not pretend to know whether it be a useful one or not: it may 
 be, for aught I know, a mischievous one." " But it is then," say 
 I, " a mischievous one? Examine; and if you can make yourself 
 sensible that it is so, then, if duty means anything, — that is, moral 
 duty, — it is ji^our duty at least to abstain from it: and more than 
 that, — if it is what lies in your power, and can be done without 
 too great a sacrifice, — to endeavour to prevent it. It is not your 
 cherishing the notion of it in your bosom, and giving it the name 
 of virtue, that will excuse you." 
 
 " I feel in myself," say you again, " a disposition to detest such 
 or such an action in a moral view ; but this is not owing to any 
 notions I have of its being a mischievous one to the community. 
 I do not pretend to know whether it be a mischievous one or not: 
 it may be not a mischievous one : it may be, for aught I know, 
 a useful one." — " May it indeed," say I, " a useful one ■!" But 
 
AN OPPONENT OP THE PRINCIPLE OP UTILITY. 29 
 
 let me tell you then, that unless duty, and right and wrong, be 
 just what you please to make them, if it really be not a mis- 
 chievous one, and any body has a mind to do it, it is no duty of 
 yours, but on the contrary it would be very wrong in you, to 
 take upon you to prevent him : detest it within yourself as much 
 as you please ; that may be a very good reason (unless it be also 
 a useful one) for your not doing it yourself; but if you go about, 
 by word or deed, to do any thing to hinder him, or make him 
 suffer for it, it is you, and not he, that have done wrong ; it is 
 not your setting yourself to blame his conduct, or branding it 
 with the name of vice, that will make him culpable, or you 
 blameless. Therefore, if you can make yourself content that he 
 shall be of one mmd, and you of another, about that matter, and 
 so continue, it is well : but if nothing will serve you, but that 
 you and he must needs be of the same mind, I'll tell you what 
 you have to do: it is for you to get the better of your antipathy, 
 not for him to truckle to it." — i. 8.-10. 
 
 AN OPPONENT OF THE PRINCIPLE OF UTILITY. 
 
 If he thinks the settling of his opinions on such a subject 
 worth the trouble, let him take the following steps, and at length, 
 perhaps, he may come to reconcile himself to it. 
 
 1. Let him settle with himself whether he would wish to dis- 
 card this principle altogether ; if so, let him consider what it is 
 that all his reasonings (in matters of politics especially) can 
 amount to T 
 
 2. If he would, let him settle with himseKi whether he would 
 judge and act without any principle, or whether there is any 
 other he would judge and act by ? 
 
 3. If there be, let him examine and satisfy himself whether the 
 principle he thinks he has found is really any separate intelligible 
 principle ; or whether it be not a mere principle in words, a kind 
 of phrase, which at bottom expresses neither more nor less than 
 the mere averment of his own unfounded sentiments ; that is, 
 what in another person be might be apt to call caprice ? 
 
 4. If he is Inclined to think that his own approbation or dis- 
 approbation, annexed to the idea of an act, without any regard 
 to its consequences, is a sufficient foundation for him to judge 
 and act upon, let him ask himself whether his sentiment is to be 
 a standard of right and wrong, with respect to every other man, 
 or whether every man's sentiment has the same privilege of being 
 a standard to itself? 
 
 3* 
 
30 RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE. 
 
 5. In the first case, let him ask himself whether his principle 
 is not despotical, and hostile to all the rest of the human race 1 
 
 6. In the second case, whether it is not anarchical, and whether 
 at this rate there are not as many different standards of right and 
 wrong as there are men ? and whether, even to the same man, 
 the same thing, which is right to-day, may not (without the 
 least change in its nature) be wrong to-morrow ? and whether 
 the same thing is not right and wrong in the same place at the 
 same time ? and in either case, whether all argument is not at an 
 endl and whether, when two men have said, " I like this," and 
 " I don't like it," they can (.upon such a principle) have any thing 
 more to say ? 
 
 7. If he should have said to himself, No : for that the senti- 
 ment which he proposes as a standard must be grounded on 
 reflection, let him say on what particulars the reflection is to 
 turn : if on particulars having relation to the utility of the act, 
 then let him say whether this is not deserting his own principle, 
 and borrowing assistance from that very one in opposition to 
 which he sets it up: or if not on those particulars, on what other 
 particulars ? 
 
 8. If he should be for compounding the matter, and adopting 
 his own principle in part, and the principle of utility in part, let 
 him say how far he will adopt it ? 
 
 9. When he has settled with himself where he will stop, then 
 let him ask himself how he justifies to himself the adopting it so 
 far ? and why he will not adopt it any farther ? 
 
 10. Admitting any other principle than the principle of utility 
 to be a right principle, a principle that it is right for a man to 
 pursue, — admitting (what is not true) that the word right can 
 have a meaning without reference to utility, let him say v/hether 
 there is any such thing as a motive that a man can have to pursue 
 the dictates of it: if there is, let him say what that motive is, and 
 how it is to be distinguished from those which^nforce the dictates 
 of utility: if not, then lastly let him say what it is this other 
 principle can be good for ? — i. 3-4. 
 
 RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE. 
 
 The reasoning, in this case, is of the following stamp. There 
 are certain errors, in matters of belief, to which all mankind are 
 prone : and for these errors in judgment, it is the determination 
 of a Being of infinite benevolence, to punish them with an infinity 
 
ELEMENTS OP HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 31 
 
 of torments. But from these errors the legislator himself is 
 necessarily free : for the men who happen to be at hand for him 
 to consult with, being men perfectly enlightened, unfettered, and 
 unbiassed, have such advantages over all the rest of the world, 
 that when they sit down to inquire out the truth relative to points 
 so plain and so familiar as those in question, they cannot fail to 
 find it. This being the case, when the sovereign sees his people 
 ready to plunge headlong into an abyss of fire, shall he not 
 stretch out a hand to save them 1 Such, for example, seems to 
 have been the train of reasoning, and such the motives, which led 
 Lewis the XlVth into those coercive measures which he took for 
 the conversion of heretics, and the confirmation of true believers. 
 The ground-work, pure sympathy and lo^fing-kindness : the 
 superstructure, all the miseries which the most determined male- 
 volence could have devised. — i. 147. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 
 
 1. 
 
 It is with disposition as with every thing else ; it will be good 
 or bad according to its effects : according to the effects it has in 
 augmenting or diminishing the happiness of the community. A 
 man's disposition may accordingly be considered in two points 
 of view: according to the influence it has, either, 1. On his own 
 happiness ; or, 2. Oa the happiness of others. Viewed in both 
 these lights together, or in either of tliem indiscriminately, it 
 may be termed, on the one hand, good ; on the other, bad ; or, in 
 flagrant cases, depraved. Viewed in the former of these lights, 
 it has scarcely any peculiar name which has as yet been appro- 
 priated to it. It might be termed, though but inexpressively, 
 frail or infirm, on the one hand ; sound or firm, on the other. 
 Viewed in the other light, it might be termed beneficent or meri- 
 torious on the one hand : pernicious or mischievous on the other. 
 Now of that branch of a man's disposition, the effects of which 
 regard in the first instance only himself, there needs not much 
 to be said here. To reform it when bad, is the business rather 
 of the moralist than the legislator : nor is it susceptible of those 
 various modifications which make so material a difference in the 
 effects of the other. Again, with respect to that part of it, the 
 effects whereof regard others in the first instance, it is only in as 
 far as it is of a mischievous nature that the penal branch of law 
 
32 
 
 ELEMENTS OP HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 
 
 has any immediate concern with it : in as far as it may be of a 
 beneficent nature, it belongs to a hitherto but little cultivated, 
 and as yet unnamed branch of law, which might be styled the 
 remuneratory. 
 
 2. 
 
 A man, then, is said to be of a mischievous disposition, when, 
 by the influence of no matter what motives, he is presumed to be 
 more apt to engage, or form intentions of engaging, in acts which 
 are apparently of a pernicious tendency, than in such as are ap- 
 parently of a beneficial tendency: of a meritorious or beneficent 
 disposition, in the opposite case. 
 
 3. 
 
 I say presumed: for, by the supposition, all that appears is one 
 single action, attended with one single train of circumstances : 
 but from that degree of consistency and uniformity which expe- 
 rience has shown to be observable in the different actions of the 
 same person, the probable existence (past or future) of a number 
 of acts of a similar nature is naturally and justly inferred from 
 the observation of one single one. Under such circumstances, 
 such as the motives prove to be in one instance, such is the 
 disposition presumed to be in others. 
 
 4. 
 
 I say apparently mischievous ; that is, apparently with regard 
 to him; such as to him appear to possess that tendency : for 
 from the mere event, independent of what to him appears be- 
 forehand likely to be, nothing can be inferred on either side. If 
 to him it appears liltely to be mischievous, in such case, though 
 in the upshot it should prove innocent, or even beneficial it 
 makes no diflference ; there is not the less reason for presuming 
 his disposition to be a bad one : if to him it appears likely to be 
 beneficial or innocent, in such case, though in the upshot it 
 should prove pernicious, there is not the more reason on that ac- 
 count for presuming his disposition to be a good one. And here 
 we see the importance of the circumstances of intentionally, con- 
 sciousness, unconsciousness, and mis-supposal. 
 
 The truth of these positions depends upon two others, both 
 of them sufficiently verified by experience: The one is, that in 
 the ordinary course of things the consequences of actions com- 
 
ELEMENTS OF HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 33 
 
 monly turn out conformable to intentions. A man who sets up a 
 butcher's shop, and deals in beef, when he intends to knock 
 down an ox, commonly does knock down an ox; though by 
 some unlucky accident he may chance to miss his blow and 
 knock down a man: he who sets up a grocer's shop, and deals 
 in sugar, when he intends to sell sugar, commonly does sell 
 sugar; though by some unlucky accident he may chance to sell 
 arsenic in the room of it. 
 
 6. 
 
 The other is, that a man who entertains intentions of doing 
 mischief at one time is apt to entertain the like intentions at 
 another.* 
 
 There are two circumstances upon which the nature of the 
 disposition, as indicated by any act, is liable to depend: 1. The 
 apparent tendency of the act: 2. The nature of the motive which 
 gave birth to it. This dependency is subject to different rules, 
 according to the nature of the motive. In stating them, I sup- 
 pose all along the apparent tendency of the act to be, as it com- 
 monly is, the same as the real. 
 
 8. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is good, and the motive is of 
 the self-regarding kind. In this case, the motive affords no 
 inference on either side. It affords no indication of a good dis- 
 position: but neither does it afford any indication of a bad one. 
 
 A baker sells his bread to a hungry man who asks for it. 
 This, we'see, is one of those acts of which, in ordinary cases, the 
 tendency is unquestionably good. The baker's motive is the 
 ordinary commercial motive of pecuniary interest. It is plain, 
 that there is nothing in the transaction, thus stated, that can 
 afford the least ground for presuming that the baker is a better 
 or a worse man than any of his neighbours. 
 
 • To suppose a man to be of a good disposition, and at the same time 
 likely, in virtue of that very disposition, to engage in an habitual train of 
 mischievous actions, is a contradiction in terms: nor could such a pro- 
 position ever be advanced, but from the giving, to the thing which the 
 word disposition is put for, a reality which does not belong to it. If, then, 
 tor example, a man of religious disposition should, in virtue of that very 
 dispos.tion, be in the habit of doing mischief, for instance, by persecuting 
 his neighbours, the case must be, either that his disposition, though good 
 in certain respects, is not good upon the vvhole; or that a religious dispo. 
 Bitiun is not in general a good one. 
 
34 ELEMENTS OP HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 
 
 9. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is bad, and the motive, as be- 
 fore, is of the self-regarding kind. In this case, the disposition 
 indicated is a mischievous one. 
 
 A man steals bread out of a baker's shop: this is one of those 
 acts of which the tendency will readily be acknowledged to be 
 bad. Why, and in what respects it is so, will be stated farther 
 on. His motive, we will say, is that of pecuniary interest; the 
 desire of getting the value of the bread for nothing. His dis- 
 position, accordingly, appears to he a bad one: for every one 
 ■will allow a thievish disposition to be a bad one. 
 
 10. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is s;ood, and the motive is the 
 pure social one of good-will. In this case the disposition indi- 
 cated is a beneficent one. 
 
 A baker gives a poor man a loaf of bread. His motive is 
 compassion; a name given to the motive of benevolence, in 
 particular cases of its operation. The disposition indicated by 
 the baker, in this case, is such as every man will be ready 
 enough to acknowledge to be a good one. 
 
 11. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is bad, and the motive is the 
 purely social one of good-will. Even in this case, the disposi- 
 tion which the motive indicates is dubious: it may be a mis- 
 chievous or a meritorious one, as it happens; according as the 
 mischievousness of the act is more or less apparent. 
 
 12. 
 
 It may be thought, that a case of this sort cannot exist; and 
 that to suppose it, is a contradiction in terms. For the act is one 
 which, by the supposition, the agent knows to be a mischievous 
 one. How, then, can it be, that good-will, that is, the desire of 
 doing good, could have been the motive that led him into it? 
 To reconcile this, we must advert to the distinction between 
 enlarged benevolence and confined. The motive that led him 
 into it, was that of confined benevolence. Had he followed the 
 dictates of enlarged benevolence, he would not have done what 
 he did. Now, although he followed the dictates of that branch 
 of benevolence, which in any single instance of its exertion is 
 mischievous, when opposed to the other, yet, as the cases which 
 
ELEMENTS OP HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 35 
 
 call for the exertion of the former are, beyond comparison, more 
 numerous than those which call for the exertion of the latter, 
 the disposition indicated by him, in following the impulse of the 
 former, will often be such as in a man, of the common run of 
 men, may be allowed to be a good one upon the whole. 
 
 13. 
 
 A man, with a numerous family of children on the point of 
 starving, goes into a baker's shop, steals a loaf, divides it all 
 ahiong the children, reserving none of it for himself. It will be 
 hard to infer that that man's disposition is a mischievous one 
 upon the whole. Alter the case: give him but one child, and 
 that hungry perhaps, but in no imminent danger of starving: 
 and now let the man set fire to a house full of people, for the 
 sake of stealing money out of it to buy the bread with. The dispo- 
 sition here indicated will hardly be looked upon as a good one. 
 
 14. 
 
 Another case will appear more difficult to decide than either. 
 Ravaillac assassinated one of the best and wisest of sovereigns, 
 at a time when a good and wise sovereign, a blessing at all times 
 so valuable to a state, was particularly precious; and that to the 
 inhabitants of a populous and extensive empire. He is taken, 
 and doomed to the most excruciating tortures. His son, well 
 persuaded of his being a sincere penitent, and that mankind, in 
 case of his being at large, would have nothing more to fear from 
 him, effectuates his escape: Is this, then, a sign of a good dis- 
 position in the son, or of a bad one? Perhaps some will an- 
 swer, of a bad one; for, besides the interest which the nation 
 has in the sufferings of such a criminal, on the score of exam- 
 ple, the future good behaviour of such a criminal is more than 
 any one can have sufficient ground to be persuaded of. 
 
 15. 
 
 "Well, then, let Ravaillac, the son, not facilitate his father's 
 escape, but content himself with conveying poison to him, that 
 at the price of an easier death he may escape his torments. The 
 decision will now, perhaps, be more difficult. The net is a 
 wrong one, let it be allowed, and such as ought by all means 
 to be punished: but is the disposition manifested by it a bad 
 one? Because the young man breaks the laws in this one in- 
 stance, is it probable, that if let alone, he would break the laws 
 
36 ELEMENTS OF HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 
 
 in ordinary instances, for the satisfaction of any inordinate de- 
 sires of his own? The answer of most men would probably be 
 in the negative. 
 
 16. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is good, and the motive is 
 a serai-social one, the love of reputation. In this case, the dis- 
 position indicated is a good one. 
 
 In a time of scarcity, a baker, for the sake of gaining the 
 esteem of the neighbourhood, distributes bread gratis among 
 the industrious poor. Let this be taken for granted: and let it 
 be allowed to be a matter of uncertainty, whether he had any 
 real feeling for the sufferings of those whom he has relieved, or 
 no. His disposition, for all that, cannot, with any pretence of 
 reason, be termed otherwise than a good and beneficent one. 
 It can only be in consequence of some very idle prejudice, if 
 it receives a different name.* 
 
 17. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is bad, and the motive, as be- 
 fore, is a semi-social one, the love of reputation. In this case, 
 the disposition which it indicates is more or less good or bad; 
 in the first place, according as the tendency of the act is more 
 or less mischievous: in the next place, according as the dictates 
 of the moral sanction, in the society in question, approach more 
 or less to a coincidence with those of utility. It does not seem 
 probable, that in any nation, which is in a state of tolerable civili- 
 zation — in short, in any nation in which such rules as these can 
 come to be consulted, the dictates of the moral sanction will so 
 far recede from a coincidence with those of utility (that is, of en- 
 
 * The bulk of mankind, ever ready to depreciate the character of their 
 neighbours, in order indirectly to exalt their own, will take occasion to 
 refer a motive to the class of bad ones as often as they can find one still 
 belter, to which the act might have owed its birth. Conscious that his 
 own motives are not of the best class, or persuaded that if they be, they 
 will not-be referred to lliat class by others! afraid of being taken for a 
 dupe, and anxious to show the reach of his penetration; each man takes 
 care, in the first place, to impute the conduct of every other man to the 
 least laiidible of the motives that can account for it ; in the next place, 
 when he has gone as far that way as he can, and cannot drive down the 
 individual motive to any lower class, he changes his battery, and at- 
 tacks the very class itself. To the love of reputation he will accordingly 
 giye a bad name upon every occasion, calling it ostentation, vanity, or 
 vainglory. 
 
ELEMENTS OF HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 37 
 
 lightened benevolence) that the disposition indicated in this 
 case can be otherwise than a good one upon the whole. 
 
 18. 
 
 An Indian receives an injury, real or imaginary, from an In- 
 dian of another tribe. He revenges it upon the person of his 
 antagonist with the most excruciating torments: the case being, 
 that cruelties inflicted on such an occasion gain him reputation 
 in his own tribe. The disposition manifested in such a case 
 can never be deemed a good one, among a people ever so few 
 degrees advanced, in point of civilization, above the Indians. 
 
 19. 
 
 A nobleman (to come back to Europe) contracts a debt with a 
 poor tradesman. The same nobleman, presently afterwards, 
 contracts a debt, to the same amount, to another nobleman, at 
 play. He is unable to pay both: he pays the whole debt to the 
 companion of his amusements, and no part of it to the trades- 
 man. The disposition manifested in this case can scarcely be 
 termed otherwise than a bad one. It is certainly, however, not 
 s(\bad as if he had paid neither. The principle of love of repu- 
 tation, or (as it is called in the case of this partial application of 
 it) honour, is here opposed to the worthier principle of benevo- 
 lence, and gets the better of it. But it gets the better also of the 
 self-regarding principle of pecuniary interest. The disposition, 
 therefore, which it indicates, although not so good a one as that 
 in which the principle of benevolence predominates, is better 
 than one in which the principle of self-interest predominates. 
 He would be the better for having more benevolence: but would 
 he be the better for having no honour? This seems to admit of 
 great dispute. 
 
 20. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is good, and the motive is the 
 semi-social one of religion. In this case, the disposition indi- 
 cated by it (considered with respect to the influence of it on the 
 man's conduct towards others) is manifestly a beneficent and 
 meritorious one. 
 
 A baker distributes bread gratis among the industrious poor. 
 It is not that he feels for their distresses: nor is it for the sake 
 of gaining reputation among his neighbours. It is for the sake of 
 gaining the favour of the Deity; to whom, he takes for granted, 
 such conduct will be acceptable. The disposition manifested by 
 such cdnduct is plainly what every man would call a good one. 
 4 
 
38 ELEMENTS OF HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 
 
 21. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is had, and the motive is that 
 of religion, as before.' In this case the disposition is dubious. 
 It is good or bad, and more or less good or bad, in the first place, 
 as the tendency of the act is more or less mischievous; in the 
 next place, according as the religious tenets of the person in 
 question approach more or less to a coincidence with the dictates 
 of utility. 
 
 22. 
 
 It should seem from history, that even in nations in a tolerable 
 state of civilization in other respects, the dictates of religion 
 have been found so far to recede from a coincidence with those 
 of utility; in other words, from those of enlightened benevolence; 
 that the disposition indicated in this case may even be a bad one 
 upon the whole. This, however, is no objection to the infer- 
 ence which it affords of a good disposition in those countries 
 (such as perhaps are most of the countries of Europe at present) 
 in which its dictates respecting the conduct of a man towards 
 other men approach very nearly to a coincidence with those of 
 utility. The dictates of religion, in their application to the con- 
 duct of a man in what concerns himself alone, seem in most 
 European nations to savour a good deal of the ascetic principle: 
 but the obedience to such mistaken dictates indicates not any 
 such disposition as is likely to break out into acts of pernicious 
 tendency with respect to others. Instances in which the dic- 
 tates of religion lead a man into acts which 'are pernicious in this 
 latter view, seem at present to be but rare; unless it be acts of 
 persecution, or impolitic measures on the part of government, 
 where the law itself is either the principal actor, or an accom- 
 plice in the mischief. Ravaillac, instigated by no other motive 
 than this, gave his country one of the most fatal stabs that a 
 country ever received from a single hand; but happily the 
 Ravaillacs are but rare. They have been more frequent, how- 
 ever, in France, than in any other country during the same 
 period: and it is remarkable, that in every instance it is this 
 motive that has produced them. When they do appear, how- 
 ever, nobody, I suppose, but such as themselves, will be for 
 terming a disposition, such as they manifest, a good one. It 
 seems hardly to be denied, but that they are just so much the 
 worse for their notions of religion; and that had they been left 
 to the sole guidance of benevolence, and the love of reputation, 
 without any religion at all, it would have been but so much the 
 better for mankind. One may say nearly the same thing, per- 
 
ELEMENTS ON HUMAN DISPOSITIONS. 39 
 
 haps, of those persons who, without any particular obligation, 
 have taken an active part in tlie execution of laws made for the 
 punishment of those who have the misfortune to differ with the 
 magistrate in matters of religion, much more of th« legislator 
 himself, who has put it in their power. If Louis XIV. had had 
 no religion, France would not have lost 800,000 of its most 
 valuable subjects. The same thing may be said of the authors 
 of the wars called holy ones; whether waged against persons 
 called Infidels, or persons branded with the still more odious 
 name of Heretics. In Denmark, not a great many years ago, a 
 sect is said to have arisen, who, by a strange perversion of reason, 
 took it into their heads that, by leading to repentance, murder, 
 or any other horrid crime, might be made the road to Heaven. 
 It should all along, however, be observed, that instances of this 
 latter kind were always rare; and that, in almost all the countries 
 of Europe, instances of the former kind, though once abundantly 
 frequent, have for some time ceased. In certain countries, how- 
 ever, persecution at home (or what produces -a degree of re- 
 straint, which is one part of the mischiefs of persecution; I mean 
 the disposition to persecute whensoever occasion happens) is 
 not yet at an end: insomuch that^ if there is no actual persecu- 
 tion, it is only because there are no heretics j and if there are no 
 heretics, it is only because there are no thinkers. 
 
 23. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is good, and the motive (as 
 before) is the dissocial one of ill-will. In this case, the motive 
 seems not to afford any indication on either side: it is no indi- 
 cation of a good disposition; but neither is it any indication of 
 a bad one. 
 
 You have detected a baker in selling short weight: you 
 prosecute him for the cheat. It is not for the sake of gain that 
 you engaged in the prosecution; for there is nothing to be got 
 by it; it is not from public spirit: it is not for the sake of repu- 
 tation; for there is no reputation to be got by it: it is not in the 
 view of pleasing the Deity: it is merely on account of a quarrel 
 you have with the man you prosecute. From the transaction, 
 as thus stated, there does not seem to be any thing to be said 
 either in favour of your disposition, or against it. The tendency 
 of the act is good; but you would not have engaged in it, had it 
 not been for a motive which there seems no particular reason to 
 conclude will ever prompt you to engage in an act of the same 
 kind again. Your motive is of that sort which may, with least 
 impropriety, be termed a bad one; but the act is of that sort 
 
40 OPERATIONS OF THE SANCTIONS 
 
 which, were it engaged in ever so often, could never have any 
 evil tendency; nor indeed any other tendency than a good one. 
 By the supposition, the motive it happened to be dictated by was 
 that of ill-will; but the act itself is of such a nature as to have 
 wanted nothing but sufficient discernment on your part in order 
 to have been dictated by the most enlarged benevolence. Now, 
 from a man's having suffered himself to be induced to gratify his 
 resentment by means of an act of which the tendency is good, it 
 by no means follows that he would be ready on another occasion, 
 through the influence of the same sort of motive, to engage in 
 any act of which the tendency is a bad one. The motive that 
 impelled you was a dissocial one: but what social motive could 
 there have been to restrain you? None, but what might have 
 been outweighed by a more enlarged motive of the same kind. 
 Now, because the dissocial motive prevailed when it stood alone, 
 it by no means follows that it would prevail when it had a social 
 one to combat it. 
 
 24. 
 
 Where the tendency of the act is iad, and the motive is the 
 dissocial one of malevolence. In this case the disposition it 
 indicates is of course a mischievous one. 
 
 t The man who stole the bread from the baker^ as before, did it 
 with no other view than merely to impoverish and afflict him. 
 Accordingly, when he had got the bread, he did not eat, or sell 
 it; but destroyed it. That the disposition, evidenced by such a 
 transaction, is a bad one, is what every body must perceive im- 
 mediately. — i. 60-64. ■ 
 
 OPERATIONS OP THE SANCTIONS IN FAVOUR 
 OF MORALITY. 
 
 Timothy Thoughtless and Walter Wise* were fellow-appren- 
 tices. Thoughtless gave in to the vice of drunkenness; Wise 
 abstained from it. Mark the consequence. 
 
 1. Physical sanction. For every debauch, Thoughtless was 
 rewarded by sickness in the head. To recruit himself, he lay 
 in bed the next morning, and his whole frame became enervated 
 by relaxation; and when he returned to his work, his work ceased 
 to be a source of satisfaction to him. 
 
 Walter Wise refused to accompany him to the drinking table. 
 
 » It will readily be perceived tliat the idea of liiis illustration is taken 
 from Hogarth's Industry and Idleness. — Ed, 
 
IN PAVODR OF MORALITY. 41 
 
 His health had not been originally strong, but it was invigo- 
 rated by temperance. Increasing strength of body gave in- 
 creasing zest to every satisfaction he enjoyed : his rest at night 
 was tranquil, his risings in the morning cheerful, his labour plea- 
 surable. 
 
 2. Social sanction. Timothy had a sister, deeply interested in 
 his happiness. She reproved him at first, then neglected, then 
 abandoned him. She had been to him a source of great pleasure 
 -—it was all swept away. 
 
 Walter had a brother, who had shown indifference to him. 
 That brother had watched over his conduct, and began to show 
 an interest in his well-being — the interest increased from day to 
 day. At last he became a constant visiter, and a more than 
 common friend, and did a thousand services for his brother, 
 which no other man in the world would have done. 
 
 3. Popular sanction^ Timothy was member of a club, which 
 had money and reputation. He went thither one day in a state 
 of itebriety ; he abused the secretary, and was expelled by a 
 unanimous vote. 
 
 The regular habits of Walter had -excited the attention of his 
 master. He said one day to his banker — The young man is 
 fitted for a higher station. The banker bore it in mind ; and on 
 the first opportunity, took him into his service. He rose from 
 one distinction to another ; and was frequently consulted on busi- 
 ness of the highest importance by men of wealth and influence. 
 
 4. Legal sanction. Timothy rushed out from the club whence 
 he had been so ignominiously expelled. He insulted a man in 
 the streets, and walked penniless into the open country. Reck- 
 less of every thing, he robbed the first traveller he met : he was 
 apprehended, prosecuted, and sentenced to transportion. 
 
 Walter had been an object of approbation to his fellow-citizens. 
 He was called, by their good opinion, to the magistracy. He 
 reached its highest honours ; and even sat in judgment on his 
 fellow-apprentice, whom time and misery had so changed that 
 he was not recognised by him. 
 
 5. Religious sanction. In prison, and in the ship which con- 
 veyed Timothy to Botany Bay, his mind was alarmed and af- 
 flicted with the apprehension of future punishment — an angry 
 and avenging Deity was constantly present to his thoughts, and 
 every day of his existence was embittered by the dread of the 
 Divine Being. 
 
 To Walter the contemplation of futurity was peaceful and 
 pleasurable. He dwelt with constant delight on the benign at- 
 tributes of the Deity, and the conviction was ever present to him 
 that it must be well, that all untimately must be well, to the vir- 
 
 4* 
 
42 PHYSICAL AND MORAL DELICACY COMPARED. 
 
 tuous. Great, indeed, was the balance of pleasure which he 
 drew from his existence, and great was the sum of happiness to 
 which he gave birth, — Deontology, vol. i. p. 118-121. 
 
 SELF-RESTRAINT. 
 
 In proportion as a man has acquired a command over his de- 
 sires, resistance to their impulse becomes" less and less difficult, 
 till, at length, in some constitutions, all difficulty vanishes. In 
 early life, for example, a man may have acquired a taste for wine, 
 or for a particular species of food. Finding it disagree with 
 his constitution, little by little, the uneasiness following on the 
 gratification of his appetite become so frequent, so constantly pre- 
 sent to his recollection, that the anticipation of the future certain 
 pain gains strength enough to overpower the impression of the 
 present pleasure. The idea of the greater distant sufFerinP has 
 extinguished tliat of the lesser contemporaneous enjoyment. 
 And it is thus that, by the' power of association, things, which 
 had been originally objects of desire, become objects of aversion; 
 and, on the other hand, things which had been originally objects 
 of aversion, such as medicines, for instance, become objects of 
 desire. In the case above referred to, the pleasure not being in 
 possession, could not of course, be sacrificed — it was non-ex- 
 istent ; nor was there self-denial in the case, for as the desire 
 which had originally been calling for its gratification was no 
 longer in existence, there remained no demand to which denial 
 could be opposed. When things are in this situation, the virtue, 
 so far from being annihilated, has arrived at the pinnacle of its 
 highest excellence, and shines forth in its brightest lustre. De- 
 fective, indeed, would that definition of virtue be, which ex- 
 cluded from its pale the very perfection of virtue. — Deontology, 
 vol. i. p. 144-145. 
 
 PHYSICAL AND MORAL DELICACY COMPARED. 
 
 Between physical and moral delicacy, a connexion has been 
 observed, which, though formed by the imagination, is far from 
 being imaginary. Howard and others have remarked it. It is 
 an antidote against sloth, and keeps alive the idea of decent re- 
 straint, and the habit of circumspection. Moral purity and phy- 
 sical are spoken of in the same language : scarce can you incul- 
 
MOTIVES CONNECTED WITH SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY. 43 
 
 cate or commend the one, but some share of the approbation re- 
 flects itself upon the other. In minds which the least grain of 
 Christianity has been planted, this association can scarce fail of 
 having taken root: scarce a page of Scripture but recalls it. 
 Washing is a holy rite : those who dispute its spiritual efficacy, 
 will not deny its physical use. The ablution is typical : may it 
 be prophetic ! — Alas ! were it but as easy to wash away moral 
 as corporeal foulness ! — iv. 158. 
 
 THE MOTIVES CONNECTED WITH SYMPATHY 
 AND ANTIPATHY. 
 
 To the pleasures of sympathy corresponds the motive which, 
 in a neutral sense, is termed good-will. The word sympathy 
 may also be used on this occasion; though the sense of it seems 
 to be rather more extensive. In a good sense, it is styled bene- 
 volence: and in certain cases, philanthropy; and, in a figurative 
 way, brotherly love; in others, humanity; in others, charity; in 
 others, pity and compassion; in others, mercy; in others, grati- 
 tude; in others, tenderness; in others, patriotism; in others, pub- 
 lic spirit Love is also employed in this as in so many other 
 senses. In a bad sense, it has no name applicable to it in all 
 cases; in particular cases it is styled partiality. The viford zeal, 
 with certain epithets prefixed to it, might also be employed 
 sometimes on this occasion, though the sense of it be more ex- 
 tensive; applying sometimes to ill as well as to good will. It 
 is thus we speak of party zeal, national zeal, and public zeal. 
 The word attachment is also used with the like epithets: we 
 also say family attachment. The French expression, esprit de 
 corps, for which as yet there seems to be scarcely any name 
 in English, might be rendered, in some cases, though rather 
 inadequately, by the terms corporation-spirit, corporation- 
 attachment, or corporation-zeal. 
 
 1. A man who has set a town on fire is apprehended and 
 committed: out of regard or compassion for him, you help him 
 to break prison. In this case the generality of people will pro- 
 bably scarcely know whether to condemn your motive or to 
 applaud it: those who condemn your conduct, will be disposed 
 rather to impute it to some other motive: if they style it bene- 
 volence or compassion, they will be for prefixing an epithet. 
 
44 MOTIVES CONNECTED WITII SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY. 
 
 and calling it false benevolence or false compassion.* 2. The 
 man is taken again, and is put upon his trial: to save him, you 
 swear falsely in his favour. People, who would not call your 
 motive a bad one before, will perhaps call it so now. 3. A 
 man is at law with you about an estate: he has no right to it: 
 the judge knows this, yet, having an esteem or affection for 
 your adversary, adjudges it to him. In this case the motive is 
 by every body deemed abominable, and is termed injustice 
 and partiality. 4. You detect a statesman in receiving bribes: 
 out of regard to the public interest, you give information of it, 
 and prosecute him. In this case, by all who acknowledge your 
 conduct to have originated from this motive, your motive will 
 be deemed a laudable one, and styled public spirit. But his 
 friends and adherents will not choose to account for your con- 
 duct in any such manner: they will rather attribute it to party 
 enmity. 5. You find a man on the point of starving: you re- 
 lieve him; and save his life. In this case your motive will by 
 every body be accounted laudable, and it will be termed com- 
 passion, pity, charity, benevolence. Yet in all these cases the 
 motive is the same: it is neither more nor less than the motive 
 of good-will. 
 
 To the pleasures of malevolence, or antipathy, corresponds 
 the motive which, in a neutral sense, is termed antipathy or 
 displeasure: and, in particular cases, dislike, aversion, abhor- 
 rence, and indignation: in a neutral sense, or perhaps a sense 
 leaning a little to the bad side, ill-will: and, in particular cases, 
 anger, wrath, and enmity. In a bad sense it is styled, in dif- 
 ferent cases, wrath, spleen, ill-humour, animosity, hatred, ma- 
 lice, rancour, rage, fury, cruelty, tyranny, envy, jealousy, re- 
 venge, misanthropy, and by other names, which it is hardly 
 worth while to endeavour to collect. Like good-will, it is used 
 with epithets expressive of the persons who are the objects of 
 the affection. Hence we hear of party enmity, party rage, and 
 so forth. In a good sense there seems to be no single name 
 for it. In compound expressions it may be spoken of in such 
 
 * Among the Greeks, perhaps, the motive, and the conduct it gave birth 
 to, would, in such a case, have been rather approved than disapproved of. 
 It seems to have been deemed an act of Jieroisni on iho part ui Hercules, to 
 have delivered his friend Theseus from hell : tl]ou:jh divine justice, vvhioh 
 held him there, should naturally have been regarded as being at least upon 
 a footing with human justice. Biil to divine justice, even when acknow- 
 ledged under that character, the respect paid at that time of day does 
 not seem to have been very profound, or welUsettled : at present, the re- 
 spect paid to it is profound and settled enough, though the name of it is 
 but too often applied to dictates which could have had no other origin 
 than the worse sort of human caprice. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF LOVE OP APPROBALION. 45 
 
 a sense, by epithets, such as Jms< and Imidable prefixed to words 
 that are used in a neutral or nearly neutral sense. 
 
 1. You rob a man: he prosecutes you, and gets you pu- 
 nished: out of resentment you set upon him, and harig him with 
 your own hands. In this case your motive will universally be 
 deemed detestable, and will be called malice, cruelty, revenge, 
 and so forth. 2. A man has stolen a little money from you: 
 out of resentment you prosecute him, and get him hanged by 
 course of law. In this case people will probably be a little di- 
 vided in their opinions about your motive: your friends will 
 deem it a laudable one, and call it a just or laudable resentment: 
 your enemies will perhaps be disposed to deem it blameable, 
 and call it cruelty, malice, revenge, and so forth: to obviate 
 which, your friends will try perhaps to change the motive, and 
 call it public spirit. 3. A man has murdered your father: out 
 of resentment you, prosecute him, and get him put to death in 
 course of law. In this case your motive will be universally 
 deemed a laudable one, and styled as before, a just or laudable 
 resentment: and your friends, in order to bring forward the 
 more amiable principle from which the malevolent one, which 
 was your immediate motive, took its rise, will be for keeping 
 the latter out of sight, speaking of the former only, under some 
 such name as filial piety. Yet in all these cases the motive is 
 the same: it is neither more nor less than the motive of ill-will. 
 — i. 5a-54. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE MOTIVE OF LOVE OF 
 APPROBATION, 
 
 1. You have received an affront from a man: according to the 
 custom of the country, — in order, on the one hand, to save 
 yourself from'the shame of being thought to bear it patiently, 
 on the other hand, to obtain the reputation of courage, — you 
 challenge him to fight with mortal weapons. In this case your 
 motive will, by some people, be accounted laudable, and styled 
 honour; by others it will be accounted blameable, and these, if 
 they call it honour, will prefix an epithet of improbation to it, 
 and call it false honour. 3. In order to obtain a post of rank 
 and dignity, and thereby to increase the repect paid you by the 
 public, you bribe the electors who are to confer it, or the judge 
 before whom the title to it is in dispute. In this case, your 
 motive is commonly accounted corrupt and abominable, and is 
 styled, perhaps, by some such name as dishonest or corrupt 
 
46 
 
 KATIO OP WEALTH TO HAPPINESS. 
 
 ambition, as there is no single name for it. 3. In order to ob- 
 tain the good-will of the public, you bestow a large sura in works 
 of private cbarity or public utility. In this case, people will be 
 apt not to agree about your motive. Your enemies will put'a«bad 
 colour upon it, and call it ostentation; your friends, to save you 
 from this reproach, will choose to impute your conduct not to 
 this motive, but to some other; such as that of charity, (the de- 
 nomination in this case given to private sympathy,) or that of 
 public spirit. 4. A king, for the sake of gaining the admiration 
 annexed to the name of conqueror, (we will suppose power and 
 resentment out of the question,) engages his kingdom in a bloody 
 •war. His motive, by the multitude, (whose sympathy for mil- 
 lions is easily overborne by the pleasure which their imagina- 
 tion finds in gaping at any novelty they observe in the conduct 
 of a single person,) is deemed an admirable one. Men of feel- 
 ing and reflection, who disapprove of the dominion exercised 
 by this motive on this occasion, without always perceiving that 
 it is the same motive which, in other instances, meets with their 
 approbation, deem it an abominable one; and, because the mul- 
 titude, who are the manufacturers of language, have not given 
 them a simple name to call it by, they will call it by some such 
 compound' name, as the love of false glory or false ambition. 
 Yet, in all four cases, the motive is the same: it is neither more 
 nor less than the love of reputation. — i. 51-52. 
 
 EATIO OF WEALTH TO HAPPINESS. 
 
 Take any individual: give him a certain quantity of money, 
 you will produce in his mind a certain quantity of pleasure. 
 Give him again the same quantity, you will make an addition to 
 the quantity of his pleasure. But the magnitude of the pleasure 
 produced by the second sum, will not be twice the magnitude 
 of the pleasure produced by the first. While the sums are 
 small, the truth of this position may not be perceivable. But 
 let the sums have risen to a certain magnitude, it will be alto- 
 gether out of doubt; and it will then be matter of mathematical 
 certainty, that the diminution cannot have been made to take 
 place in the case of the greatest quantity, without having been 
 made to take place, to a proportionable amount, in the case of 
 the several lesser quantities. 
 
 Take, for example, on the one hand, a labouring man, who, 
 for the whole of his life, has a bare, but sure subsistence; call 
 
RATIO OF WEALTH TO HAPPINESS. 47 
 
 his income £20 a-year. Take, on the other hand, the richest 
 man in the conntry, who, of course, will be the monarch, if 
 there is one: call his income £1,000,000. The net quantities 
 of happiness produced by the two incomes respectively — what 
 will be their ratio to each other? The quantity of money received 
 annually by the monarch is, on this supposition, 50,000 times 
 as great as that received, in the same time, by the labourer: 
 This supposed, the quantity of pleasure in the breast of th« 
 monarch will naturally be greater than the quantity in the breast 
 of the labourer. Be it so: but by how much, — by how many 
 times greater? Fifty thousand times? This is assuredly more 
 than any man would take upon himself to say. A thousand 
 times, then? — a hundred? — ten times? — five times? — twice? — 
 which of all these shall be the number? Weight, extent, heat, 
 light — for quantities of all these articles, we have perceptible 
 and expressible measures: unhappily, or happily, for quantities 
 of pleasure or pain, we have no such measures* Ask a man 
 to name the ratio, — if he knows what the purpose is, his an- 
 swer will vary according to the purpose. If he be a poet or 
 an orator — and the purpose of the moment requires it — with as 
 little scruple will he make the labourer's happiness superior to 
 the monarch's, as inferior to it. For the monarch's, taking all 
 purposes together,_^iie times the labourer's seems a very large, 
 not to say an excessive allowance: even twice, a liberal one. 
 
 After it has thus been applied to the case of the richest indi- 
 vidual in the country, apply the estimate to the case of the next 
 richest; suppose the man with £200,000 a-year, and so down- 
 wards. If the monarch's pleasure is not in any greater ratio to 
 the labourer's, than that of five to one, the excess of this next 
 richest man's pleasure, as compared with the labourer's cannot 
 be so great. Carry the comparison down through the several 
 intermediate quantities of income, — in the account of pleasure, 
 the balance in favour of the non-labourer, as against the labour- 
 er, will thus be less and less. 
 
 As it is with money, so is it with all other sources or causes 
 of pleasure: factitious dignity, for example. Give a man a 
 riband, you will produce in his mind a certain quantity of plea- 
 sure. To this riband add another, you may add more or less to 
 the former quantity of his pleasure. You may add to it; but 
 you will not double it. Cover him with ribands, — as, at the 
 expense of his starving subjects, some of the King of England's 
 servants are covered with gold lace, — till the colour of the coat 
 is scarcely visible; add even money in proportion, still will it 
 be matter of doubt whether the quantity of pleasure in his mind 
 will be double the quantity existing in the mind of the labour^ 
 ing man above mentioned. — iv. 541. 
 
48 PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 The man who is born in the lap of wealth, is not so sensible 
 of the value of fortune, as he who is the artisan of his own for- 
 tune. It is the pleasure of acquiring, and not the satisfaction 
 of possessing, which is productive of the greatest enjoyment 
 The first is a lively sensation, sharpened by desire and previous 
 privations: the other is a feeble sentiment, formed by habit, un- 
 enlivened by contrast, and borrowing nothing from imigma- 
 tion.— i. 305. 
 
 INEQUALITY IN THE DISTRIBUTION OF HO- 
 NOURS. 
 
 Every honour that has been conferred on any man, in whose 
 instance it is not clear that extraordinary service to the public 
 has in any shape been done, is conferred in a more particular 
 manner, at the expense of all those by whom extraordinary ser- 
 vice to the public has really been rendered: it is felt by them as 
 an injury. It has always for its tendency, and to an unmeasu- 
 rable extent for its effect, the preventing men in general from 
 taking on themselves any extraordinary burden, for the pur- 
 pose of rendering to the public, in any shape, extraordinary 
 service. — ix. 85. 
 
 PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 Public Opinion may be considered as a system of law, ema- 
 nating from the body of the people. If there be no individu- 
 ally assignable form of words in and by which it stands ex- 
 pressed, it is but upon a par in this particular with that rule of 
 action which, emanating as it does from lawyers, official and 
 professional, and not sanctioned by the Legislative authority, 
 otherwise than by tacit sufferance, is, in England, designated 
 by the appellation of Common Law. To the pernicious ex- 
 ercise of the power of government, it is the only check; to the 
 beneficial, an indispensable supplement. Able rulers lead it; 
 prudent rulers lead or follow it; foolish rulers disregard it. Even 
 at the present stage in the career of civilization, its dictates co- 
 incide, on most points, with those of the greatest-happiness 
 principle; on some, however, it still deviates from them: but, 
 as its deviations have all along been less and less numerous, and 
 
CLASS INTERESTS. 49 
 
 less wide, sooner or later they will cease to be discernible; 
 aberration will vanish, coincidence will be complete. — ix. 158. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF POWER ON OPINION. 
 
 How wicked, (it is frequently said) — how absurd and hopeless 
 the enterprise, to make war upon opinions! Alas! would it were 
 as absurd and hopeless, as it is wicked and pernicious! Upon 
 opinions, in an immediate waj', yes. To crush the idea in the 
 mind, to act upon it by mechanical pressure or impulse, is not 
 in the power of the sword or of the rod. In an unimmediate, 
 though, for efficacy, not too remote way, through the medium 
 of discourses, no: for what, in the case of opinions (unhappily 
 for mankind) is but too much in the power of the sword and of 
 the rod, is, to crush the enunciating and offending pen or tongue: 
 to cut asunder the muscles by which they are moved. 
 
 Unhappily, the power of the will over opinion, through the 
 medium of discourse, is but too well understood by men in 
 power. Meantime, thus much is plain enough: the more credi- 
 ble the facts in themselves are, the less need has a man to seek 
 to gain credence for them by such means. By such means, 
 credit may be given to facts the most absurd, currency to opinions 
 the most pernicious. Facts which are true, opinions which in 
 their influence are beneficial to society, have no need of such 
 support. If this be to be admitted, the consequence seems 
 undeniable. To employ such means for the securing credence 
 to any fact, is to confess its falsehood and absurdity; to employ 
 such means for the support of any opinion, is to confess its 
 erroneousness and mischievousness. To pursue such ends by 
 such means, is to betray, and virtually to confess, the practice 
 of imposture, the consciousness of guilt. — vii. 1 08. 
 
 CLASS INTERESTS. 
 
 It is the interest of the community at large that truth alone 
 should be uttered; that the language of mendacity and deception 
 should be abstained from on every judicial occasion, and on 
 almost every other occasion: abstained from, although, and for 
 the very reason that, the commission of it threatened to be bene- 
 ficial to the particular interests that act in opposition to the 
 5 
 
50 THE POWER OF ABSOLUTION. 
 
 general interests: — to the common interest,for example, of thieves 
 and smugglers. 
 
 it is the interest of the community that truth should be re- 
 vealed, as often as the disclosure of it promises to be conducive 
 to the bringing down of punishment upon the heads of thieves 
 and smugglers. But it is the interest of thieves and smugglers 
 that truth should never be revealed, but always concealed, as 
 often as the disclosure of it threatens to be conducive to the 
 bringing down punishment on the heads of thieves or smug- 
 glers. Among these malefactors, therefore, the section of the 
 moral sanction, which applies to testimony, prescribes men- 
 dacity vvhile it prohibits, and, as far as may be, punishes 
 veracity, as an act of vice and treachery. 
 
 In any community composed of thieves or smugglers, is any 
 act of depredation committed by one member to the prejudice of 
 the rest? The force of the moral sanction changes now its direc- 
 tion, though not its nature: the force of this section of the popu- 
 lar sanction now joins itself to that of the whole; — mendacity is 
 recognised as a vice — veracity as a virtue. — vi. 266. 
 
 THE POWER OF ABSOLUTION. 
 
 In every community, — it is of the obedience of the men subject 
 to authority, that the povjer of the man possessed of authority is 
 composed: ih proportion to the need which each person so sub- 
 ject conceives himself to have of the beneficial exerfcise of such 
 authority, will be the strictness of that obedience: proportioned 
 to the self-attested wickedness of the sinner, is the magnitude of 
 the demand he has for absolution, in whatsoever shape and from 
 whatsoever hand such deliverance may pera'dventure come. 
 
 Thus it is, that, — the effective power of the confessor being 
 as the multitude and enormity of the sins, real or imagined, of 
 the penitent, — it is in that respect the interest of the confessor, 
 that, in the eyes of the penitent, and thence that in reality, these 
 sins should be as multitudinous as possible; and thence for 
 example it is, that, without exception or distinction, the words 
 miserable sinners — us miserable sinners — are regularly cram- 
 med into their mouths; that so, by a perpetual fever, a per- 
 petual demand for opiates, such as the laboratory of the con- 
 fessor is furnished with, may be kept up. 
 
 Under the Church of Eome, the potion is administered in the 
 retail way, drop by drop, by hand as it were, — to each patient 
 by himself: and accordingly it is under that one of the two 
 
THE PUNISHMENT OF EXCOMMUNICATION. 51 
 
 churches that the subjection is most entire : under the Church 
 of England, under the dominion of its universities, it can only 
 be administered in the wholesale way : it can only be adminig. 
 tered, as if it were by sleam, to the whole flock of penitents in 
 the lump. In this mode, to administer it with any chance of 
 effect, required no small degree of art ; it has been, or will pre- 
 sently be seen, what that art has been, and with what success it 
 has been practised. — v. 210-211. 
 
 THE PUNISHMENT OF EXCOMMUNICATION. 
 
 4 
 
 Part of the punishment consists in the delinquent's being looked 
 upon, if men think fit to look upon him in that light, as a hea- 
 then and a publican. 
 
 To try the effect of generals, the only way is to apply them 
 to particulars. A. is not willing, or not able, to pay his proctor's 
 or another man's proctor's fees : he is in consequence excommu- 
 nicated. Amongst his other punishments, he is to be looked 
 upon as a heathen or a publican; that is, as bemg such a sort of 
 man as Socrates, Cato, Titus, Marcus Antoninus, a collector of 
 taxes, or a Lord of the Treasury. The heaping of hard names 
 upon a man might, at one time, have been deemed a punish- 
 ment ; but such legal trifling now-a-days, serves only to render 
 the laws ridiculous. 
 
 Exclusionfrom the churches. In our days, an exclusion of 
 this sort shows rather oddly under the guise of punishment. 
 The great difficulty is now not to keep people out of the churches, 
 but to get them in. The punishment, however, was not ill-de- 
 signed, if it were intended to increase the desire of attending 
 there, by forbidding it — the general eflfect of every prohibition 
 being to give birth to a desire to Infringe it: it affords a presump- 
 tion, that what is prohibited is in itself desirable, or at least desi- 
 rable in the opinion of the legislator, or he would not have prohi- 
 bited it. Such is the natural supposition, when the interdiction 
 relates to an unknown object ; but even when it relates to an 
 object which has been tried, and neglected from distaste, the 
 prohibition gives to it another aspect. The attention is directed 
 to the possible advantages of the act : having begun to think of 
 them, the individual fancies he perceives them, and goes on to 
 exaggerate their value: on comparing his situation with that of 
 those who enjoy this liberty, he experiences a feeling of inferior- 
 ity ; and, by degrees, a most intense desire often succeeds to the 
 greatest indifference.^i. 514-515. 
 
52 SINISTER. INTERESTS ALARMED AT " INNOVATION." 
 
 SINISTER INTERESTS ALARMED AT " INNOVATION." 
 
 Could the wand of that magician be borrowed, at whose po- 
 tent touch the emissaries of his wiclced antagonist threw off their 
 several disguises, and made instant confession of their real cha- 
 racter and designs, — could a few of those ravens by whom the 
 word innovation is uttered with a scream of horror, and the ap- 
 proach of the monster anarchy denounced, — be touched with It 
 we should then learn their real character, and have the true im- 
 port of these screams translated into intelligible language. 
 
 1. I am a lawyer, (would one of them be heard to say) — a fee- 
 fed judge — who considering that the money I lay up, the power 
 I exercise, and the respect and reputation I enjoy, depend on the 
 undiminished continuance of the abuses of the law, the factitious 
 delay, vexation, and expense with which the few who have mo- 
 ney enough to pay for a chance of justice are loaded, and by 
 which the many who have not are cut off from that chance, — take 
 this method of deterring men from attempting to alleviate those 
 torments in which my comforts have their source. 
 
 2. I am a sinecurist, (cries another,) who being in the receipt 
 of ^638,000 a-year, public money, for doing nothing, and having 
 no more wit than honesty, have never been able to open my 
 mouth and pronounce any articulate sound for any other pur- 
 pose, — yet, hearing a cry of " No sinecures 1" am come to join 
 in the shout of " No innovation! down with the innovators!" in 
 hopes of drowning, by these defensive sounds, the offensive ones 
 which chill ray blood and make me tremble. 
 
 3. I am a contractor, (cries a third,) who having bought my 
 seat that I may sell my votes — and in return for them being in 
 the habit of obtaining with the most convenient regularity a suc- 
 cession of good jobs, foresee, in the prevalence of innovation, the 
 destruction and the ruin of this established branch of trade. 
 
 4. I am a country gentleman, (cries a fourth,) who observing 
 that from having a seat in a certain assembly a man enjoys more 
 respect than he did before, on the turf, in the dog-kennel, and in 
 the stable, and having tenants and other dependents enough to 
 seat me against their wills for a place in which I am detested, 
 and hearing it is said that if innovation were suffered to run on 
 unopposed, elections would come in time to be as free in reality 
 as they are in appearance and pretence, — have left for a day or 
 two the cry of " Tally-ho!" and " Hark forward !" to join in the 
 cry of " No anarchy !" No innovation !" 
 
POPULAR APPLAUSE. 53 
 
 5. I am a priest, (says a fifth,) who having proved the pope 
 to be antichrist to the satisfaction of all orthodox divines whose 
 piety prays for the cure of souls, or whose health has need of 
 exoneration from the burden of residence; and having read, in 
 my edition of the Gospel, that the apostles lived in palaces, 
 which innovation and anarchy would cut down to parsonage- 
 houses; though growing hoarse by screaming out, " No read- 
 ing!" " No writing!" " No Lancaster!" and " No popery!" 
 — for fear of coming change, am here to add what remains of 
 my voice to the full chorus of " No anarchy!" "No innova- 
 tion!" — ii. 420. 
 
 UNEQUAL CONTEST BETWEEN REASON AND 
 SINISTER INTEREST. 
 
 How unequal is the contest between honesty and reason on 
 the one part, and sinister interest in or out of oflSce on the 
 other! — how hard the lot of the advocate on the honest side! 
 On the part of sinister interest, a short phrase composed 
 of falsehood and nonsense is thrown out, and this is to be ac- 
 cepted as a reason — as a reason, and that of itself a conclusive 
 one, on which the whole difference between good government 
 and bad. government in this country, and thence perhaps in every 
 other — at this time, and thence perhaps at all times — is to de- 
 pend. 
 
 The advocate of reason sets himself to work: he displays the 
 nothingness, he detects and exposes the fallacies. What is he 
 the better? The exposure is turned aside from: the compound 
 of falsehood and nonsense continues to be delivered, with the 
 same effrontery and the same intolerant arrogance as ever. 
 Even were that abandoned, some other phrase of the like ma- 
 terial would be employed instead of it: the same work would 
 be to do over again, and with equal fruit. — iii. 620. 
 
 POPULAR APPLAUSE. 
 
 The people are a set of masters whom it is not in a man's 
 power in every instance fully to please, and at the same time 
 faithfully to serve. He that is resolved to persevere without 
 deviation in the line of truth and utility, must have learnt to 
 prefer the still whisper of enduring approbation, to the short- 
 lived bustle of tumultuous applause. — i. 239. 
 
54 PREJUDICES IN FAVOUR OF SPENDTHRIFTS". 
 
 PREJUDICES IN FAVOUR OF SPENDTHRIFTS. 
 
 The business of a money-lender, though only among Chris- 
 tians and in Christian times a proscribed profession, has no- 
 where, nor at any time, been a popular one. Those who have 
 the resolution to sacrifice the present to the future, are natural 
 objects of envy to those who have sacrificed the future to the 
 present. The children who have eaten their cake, are the na- 
 tural enemies of the children who have theirs. While the mo- 
 ney is hoped for, and for a short time after it has been received, 
 he who lends it is a friend and benefactor: by the time the mo- 
 ney is spent, and the evil hour of reckoning is come, the bene- 
 factor is found to have changed his nature, and to have put on 
 the tyrant and the oppressor. It is an oppression for a man to 
 reclaim his own money: it is none to keep it from him. Among 
 the inconsiderate, that is, among the great mass of mankind, 
 selfish affections conspire with the social in treasuring up all 
 favour for the man of dissipation, and in refusing justice to the 
 man of thrift who has supplied him. In some shape or other, 
 that favour attends the chosen object of it through every stage 
 of his career. But in no stage of liis career can the man of thrift 
 come in for any share of it. It is the general interest of those 
 with whom a man lives, that his expense should be at least as 
 great as his circumstances will bear; because there are few ex- 
 penses which a man can launch into, but what the benefit of 
 them is shared, in some proportion or other, by those with 
 whom he lives. In that circle originates a standing law, forbid- 
 ding every man, on pain of infamy, to confine his expenses 
 within what is adjudged to be the measure of his means, saving 
 always the power of exceeding that limit as much as he thinks 
 proper; and the means assigned him by that law may be ever 
 so much beyond his real means, but are sure never to fall short 
 of them. So close is the combination thus formed between the 
 idea of merit and the idea of expenditure, that a disposition to 
 spend finds favour in the eyes even of those who know that a 
 man's circumstances do not entitle him to the means: and an 
 upstart, whose chief recommendation is this disposition, shall 
 find himself to have purchased a permanent fund of respect, to 
 the prejudice of the very persons at whose expense he has been 
 gratifying his appetites and his pride. The lustre which the 
 display of borrowed wealth has diflfused over his character, 
 awes men during the season of his prosperity into a submission 
 to his insolence, and when the hand of adversity has overtaken 
 
CHARGES OP POPULAR INJUSTICE. 55 
 
 him at last, the recollection of the height from which he has 
 fallen, throws the veil of compassion over his injustice. 
 
 The condition of the man of thrift is the reverse. His last- 
 ing opulence procures him a share, at least, of the same envy 
 that attends the prodigal's transient display: but the use he 
 makes of it procures him no part of the favour which attends 
 the prodigal. In the satisfactions he derives from that use — the 
 pleasure of possession, and the idea of enjoying at some dis- 
 tant period, which may never arrive — nobody comes in for any 
 share. In the midst of his opulence he is regarded as a kind of 
 insolvent, who refuses to honour the bills which their rapacity 
 would draw upon him, and who is by so much the more crimi- 
 nal than other insolvents, as not having the plea of inability. for 
 an excuse. 
 
 Could there be any doubt of the disfavour which attends the 
 cause of the money-lender in his competition with the bor- 
 rower, and of the disposition of the public judgment to sacri- 
 fice the interest of the former to that of the latter, the stage 
 would afford a compendious, but a pretty conclusive proof of 
 it. It is the business of the dramatist to study, and to conform 
 to, the humours and passions of those on the pleasing of 
 whom he depends for his success; it is the course which re- 
 flection must suggest to every man, and which a man would 
 naturally fall into, though he were not to think about it. He 
 may, and very frequently does, make magnificent pretences of 
 giving the law to them: but wo be to him that attempts to 
 give them any other law than what they are disposed already 
 to recieve! If he would attempt to lead them one inch, it must 
 be with great caution, and not without suffering himself to be 
 led by them at least a dozen. Now I question whether, among 
 all the instances in which a borrower and a lender of money 
 have been brought together upon the stage, from the days of 
 Thespis to the present, there ever was one, in which the foi'- 
 mer was not recommended to favour in some shape or other — 
 either to admiration, or to love, or to pity, or to all three; — and 
 the other, the man of thrift, consigned to infamy. — iii. 17. 
 
 CHARGES OF POPULAR INJUSTICE. 
 
 The injustices of the Athenians, had they been ten times as 
 frequent as they were, would not, in my view of things, be 
 much to the present purpose.* Had the Athenians represeuta- 
 
 * Viz. aa an argument against democratic ascendancy. 
 
5G RULES OF POLITENESS. 
 
 live bodies? — had they the light of two thousand years of his- 
 tory to guide them? — or the art of printing to diffuse it? When 
 the Athenians were cruel and unjust, were the Dionysiuses and 
 Artaxerxeses less so? In the people, injustice has at least been 
 followed by repentance: acting in bodies, and especially under 
 the veil of secrecy, they have not that pride which keeps men 
 from growing belter: a despot, when he has injured a man, 
 hates him but the more. As little would my notion of the pro- 
 bable conduct of the people, that is, of select men chosen by 
 select men, in the exercise of an unquestioned right, in quiet 
 times be taken from the conduct of a few unknown individuals 
 among a vast multitude, in the heat of a revolution brought on 
 by excess of despotism. Much sooner would I look to Ame- 
 rica, where the people bear undisputed sway, and ask, in so 
 many years of popular government, what violences or injustice 
 to the prejudice of their servants have ever yet been presented 
 by the history of thirteen commonwealths 1 — iv. — 363. 
 
 RULES OF POLITENESS. 
 
 If the affections of him with whom you are about to com- 
 mence a conversation be matter of indifference to you, all 
 topics are open to you: if it be an object with you to gain or 
 keep his affections, choose that topic, whatever it be, that is 
 most agreeable to him. Al any rale, you may avoid every 
 topic which you know, or suspect, to be disagreeable to him. 
 
 So as to hearing and making others hear: matter of prudence 
 as to the proportion of time for making display, and hearing the 
 companion's display. 
 
 Kind words cost no more than unkind ones. Kind words 
 produce kind actions, not only on the part of him to whom they 
 are addressed, but on the part of him by whom they are ad- 
 dressed, — understand, not incidentally only, but habitually, in 
 virtue of the principle of association. — x. 519. 
 
 If, in conversing with a man, you find him imbued with 
 opinions which to you seem mischievously erroneous, if there 
 be a probability of converting him, make the attempt, givinghim 
 as little uneasiness as may be. But if there be no such proba- 
 bility, do no such thing: as where there is no probability of 
 your seeing him often enough. You wound his feelings, and 
 you draw upon yourself his displeasure. — x. 532. 
 
STATE OF SOCIETY IMPROVED BY MILITARY DISCIPLINE. 57 
 
 STATE OF SOCIETY, WHICH MAY BE IMPROVED 
 BY MILITARY DISCIPLINE, 
 
 In a certain state of things, through the instrumentality of 
 collateral employments, — the stipendiary land defensive-force 
 service will be seen to be, by means of the discipline which is 
 inseparable from it, capable of being rendered conducive to habits 
 oi labour, to profit-seeking industry, and thence to contentment 
 and moral deportment. Place, where the heat of the climate, 
 and the facility of obtaining land with rude produce on it suffi- 
 cient for subsistence, have concurred in producing an aversion 
 to labour: lime, when the formation of new states, and the strug- 
 gles almost inseparable from that process, have concurred in 
 producing an exclusive demand for service in the two branches 
 — one or other of thera, or both — of the defensive-force service; 
 especially that of which dry land is the theatre. 
 
 In this state of things, if, as in France and other old-established 
 states, the whole male population, appropriate exceptions ex- 
 cepted, are, by what is called conscription, aggregated to the 
 army service, though not, as in those cases, for a small number 
 of years, but for a Targe number, say from twelve to twenty, or 
 upwards, and in the course of that time occupied in collateral 
 employments, the habit of obedience, and the habit of labour 
 may thus be formed in conjunction, useful literary and other 
 intellectual instruction being, during a portion of each day, super- 
 added: Through plenitude of mental occupation, contentment, 
 — the fruit of a continuity of moderate and pleasurable desire, 
 excitement, and corresponding gratification, — with urbanity of 
 deportment, may thus be substituted to listlessness, uneasiness, 
 discontent, and quarrelsomeness, the natural endemial diseases 
 of unfurnished minds. In this manner, that state of things, 
 which is to a certain degree forced upon such communities by 
 the operations of their enemies, may be made subservient to 
 ultimate good. * * * * 
 
 An example, of a nature to serve as proof of the amelioration 
 capable of being made by military discipline, in the morality and 
 happiness of a population found by it in a low condition in both 
 these respects, — may be seen in British India, in the case of the 
 Native soldiery, styled sepoys. As to rnoraWjj, in favour of these, 
 (comparison had with that of the classes from which they are 
 drawn,) for proof, reference maybe made to universal testimonj': 
 as to happiness, in favour of these same persons, the fact, equally 
 notorious, and capable of being made manifest by authentic do- 
 cuments, is — that for the situation of private in that army, there 
 
38 INTERESTS CONIWCWE TO 'WAR. 
 
 are at all times candidates in lar^e numbers. Bnt in so far as 
 they are willing, the experienced and yet uninvalided being of 
 course preferred to the inexperienced, — diminution is never 
 produced by other causes than invalidship or death. A circum- 
 stance which affords matter for just regret aeeordingly is — that 
 this part of the official establishment, being, as it is, a receptacle 
 which in so high a degree possesses the property of ameliorating 
 whatsoever is included in it, should be in the state of a reservoir 
 with a valve opening inwards, but none opening outwards, with 
 reference to the mass of the population at large,. — ix. 417-^418. 
 
 INTERESTS CONDUCIVE TO WAR. 
 
 Previously to the year 1782, the emoluments of the paymaster 
 of the army, whose duty as such consisted in signing, or knowing 
 how to sign, his name, were considerably higher in tim« of war 
 than in time of peace, being principally constituted of a per cent- 
 age on the money expended in his department. This great 
 officer, however, always found himself a member of parliament; 
 and it is believed he was thus paid, not for signing, or knowing 
 how to sign, his name, but for talking, and knowing how to talk. 
 Upon a question of peace or war, the probity of this orator must 
 have found itself in somewhat an awkward predicament, con- 
 tinually besieged as it must have been by Bellona with the offer 
 of an enormous revenue, which was to cease immediately he 
 suffered himself to be corrupted by Peace. When the question 
 of economical reform was upon the carpet, this place was not 
 forgotten. It was generally felt at that time, that so decided an 
 opposition between interest and duty was calculated to produce 
 the most pernicious consequences. The emoluments of peace 
 and war were, therefore, equalized by attaching a fixed salary 
 to the office, and the same plan was adopted with respect to 
 various other offices. 
 
 In running over the list of functionaries, from the highest to 
 the lowest, one cannot but be alarmed at the vast proportion of 
 them who watch for war as for a prey. It is impossible to say 
 to what a degree, by this personal interest, the most important 
 measures of government are determined. It cannot be supposed 
 that ministers of state, generals, admirals, or members of parlia- 
 ment, are influenced in the slightest degree by a vile pecuniary 
 interest. All these honourable persons possess probity as well as 
 wisdom, so that a trifle of money never can produce the slightest 
 influence upon their conduct, not even the effect of an atom upon 
 
ADVANTAGES OF A DISARMING TREATY. 59 
 
 the immoveable mass of their probity. The mischief is, that 
 evil-minded persons are not convinced by their assertion, but 
 continue to repeat, that — " The honesty which resists temptation 
 is most noble, but that which flies from it is most secure." ii. 209. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF A E)ISARMING TREATY.— EFFECTS 
 OF AN EUROPEAN WAR, 
 
 If the simple relation of a single nation with a single other 
 nation be considered, perhaps the matter would not bevery difli- 
 cult. The misfortune is, that almost every where compound 
 relations are found. On the subject of troops', — France says to 
 England, Yes I would voluntarily make with you a treaty of 
 disarming, if there were only you; but it is necessary for me to 
 have troops to defend me from the Austrians. Austria might say 
 tbe same to France; but it is necessary to guard against Prussia, 
 Russia and the forte. And the lilce allegation might be made 
 by Prussia with regard to Russia. 
 
 Whilst as to naval forces, if it concerned Europe only, the 
 difficulty might, perhaps, not be very considerable. To consider 
 France, Spain, and Holland, as making' together a counterpoise 
 to the power of Britain, — perhaps on account of the disadvan- 
 tages which accompany the concert -between three separate na- 
 tions, to say nothing of the tardiness and publicity of procedure 
 imder the Dutch Constitution, — England might allow to all to- 
 gefhet a united force equal to half as much more than its own . 
 
 An agreement of this kind would not be dishonourable. If 
 the covenant were on one side only, it might be so. If it regard 
 both parties together, the reciprocity takes away the acerbity. 
 By the treaty which put an end to (he first Punic war, the num- 
 ber of vessels that the Carthaginians might maintain was limited. 
 This conditioh, was it not humiliating t It might be : but if it were 
 it must have been because there was nothing correspondent to 
 it on the side of the Romans. A treaty which placed all the se- 
 curity on one side, what cause could it have had for its source? 
 It could only have had one— that is the avowed superiority of 
 the party thus incontesfably secured, — such a condition could 
 only have been a law dictated by the conquerer to the party 
 conquered. The law of the strongest. None but a conquerer 
 could have dictated it ; none but the conquered would have ac- 
 cepted it. 
 
 On the contrary, whatsoever nation should get the start of the 
 
60 ADVANTAGES OF A DISARMrNG TREATY. 
 
 other in making the proposal to reduce and fix the amount of 
 its armed force, would crown itself with everlasting honour. 
 The risk would be nothing— the gain certain. This gain would 
 be, the giving an incontrovertible demonstration of its own dis- 
 position to peace, and of the opposite disposition in the other na- 
 tion in case of its rejecting the proposal. 
 
 The utmost fairness should be employed. The nation ad- 
 dressed should be invited to consider and point out whatever 
 further securities it deemed necessary, and whatever further con- 
 cessions it deemed just. 
 
 The proposal should be made in the most public manner : — 
 it should be an address from nation to nation. This, at the same 
 time that it conciliated the confidence of the nation addressed, 
 would make it impracticable for the government of that nation 
 to neglect it, or stave it off by shifts and evasions. It would 
 sound the heart of the nation addressed. It would discover its 
 intentions, and proclaim them to the world. 
 
 The cause of humanity has still another resource. Should 
 Britain prove deaf and impracticable, let France, without condi- 
 tions, emancipate her colonies, and break up her marine. The 
 advantage, even upon this plan, would be immense — the danger 
 none. The colonies, I have already shown,* are a source of ex- 
 pense, not of revenue, — of burden to the people, not of relief. 
 This appears to be the case, even upon the footing of those ex- 
 penses which appear upon the face of them to belong to the 
 colonies, and are the only ones that have hitherto been set down 
 to their account. But, in fact, the whole expense of the marine 
 belongs also to that account, and no other. What other desti- 
 nation has if! What other can it have'! None. Takeaway 
 the colonies, what use would there be for a single vessel, more 
 than the few necessary in the Mediterranean to curb the pirates. 
 
 In case of a war, where at present (1789) would England make 
 its first and only attack upon France 1 In the colonies 1 What 
 would she propose to herself from success in such attack 1 
 What but the depriving France of her colonies. Were these 
 colonies — these bones of contention — no longer hers, what then 
 could England do t what could she wish to do 1 
 
 There would remain the territory of France; with what view 
 could Britain make any attack upon it in any way 1 Not with 
 views of permanent conquest ; — such madness does not belong to 
 our age. Pariiaraent itself, one niay venture to affirm, without 
 paying it any very extraordinary compliment, Would not wish 
 
 * See Section ix. of tlie Iritioduetion of the Studj of the Works. 
 
EFFECTS OF A EUROPEAN WAR. 61 
 
 it It would not wish it, even could it be accomplished without 
 effort on our part, without resistance on the other. It would not, 
 even though France herself were to solicit it. No parliament 
 would grant a penny for such a purpose. If it did, it would not 
 be a parliament a month. No king would lend his name to such 
 a project He would be dethroned as surely and as deservedly 
 as James the Second. To say, I will be King of France, would 
 be to say, in other words, I will be absolute in Eagland. 
 
 Well, then, no one would dream of conquest. What other 
 purpose could an invasion have? The plunder and destruction 
 of the country. Such baseness is totally repugilant, not only to 
 the spirit of the nation, but to the spirit of the times. Malevo- 
 lence could be the only motive^^apacity could never counsel 
 it Long before an army could arrive any where, every thing 
 capable of being plundered would be carried off. Whatever is 
 portable could be much sooner carried off by the owners, than 
 by any plundering army. No expedition of plunder could ever 
 pay itself.* 
 
 Such is the extreme folly, the madness of war. On no sup- 
 position can it be otherwise tha.n mischievous, especially be- 
 tween nations circumstanced as France and England. Though 
 the choice of the events were absolutely at your command, you 
 could not make it of use to you. If unsuccessful, you may 
 be disgraced and mined: if successful, even to the height of 
 your wishes, you are still but so much the worse. You would 
 still be so m'uch the worse, though it were to coVit you nothing; 
 for not even any colony of your own planting, still less a con- 
 quest of your own making, vf'di so much as pay its own ex- 
 penses. 
 
 The greatest acquisitions that could be conceived would not be 
 to be wished for, could they even be attained with the greatest 
 certainty, and without the least expense. In war, we are as 
 likely not to gain as to gain — as likely to lose as to do either: 
 
 * This brings ta recollection the achievements of the war, from 1755 to 
 1763. Thestrtfggle betwixt prejudice and humanity produced, in conduct, 
 a result truly ridictrloiis. Prejudice prescribed an attiicli upon the enemy 
 in his Qwn territory,— 'humanity forbade the doing him any harm. Not 
 only nothing was gained by these exp<editions, but the mischief done to 
 the country invadbd was not nearly equal to the expense of the invasion. 
 When a Japanese rips open his own belly, it is in the assurance that his 
 enemy will follow his e:(aniple; but, in this instance, the Englishman ripped 
 open his own belly, that the Frenchman might get a scratch. Why was 
 this absurdity acted? Because we were at war, and when nations are at 
 war, something must be done, or at least appear to be done; and there 
 was nothing else to be done. Fran-tb was already stripped 6{ all its 
 distant depeodenciesv 
 6 
 
62 
 
 ADVANTAGES OP A DISARMING TREATY. 
 
 we can neither attempt the one, nor defend ourselves against 
 the other, without a certain and most enormous expense. 
 
 Mark well the contrast. All trade is in its essence advan- 
 tageous, — even to that party to whom it is least so. All war is 
 in its essence ruinous, — and yet the great employments of go- 
 vernment are to treasure up occasions of war, and to put fetters 
 upon trade. 
 
 Asii an Englishman what is the great obstacle to a secure and 
 solid peace, he has his answer ready: — " It is the ambition, per- 
 haps he will add, the treachery of France. I wish the chief ob- 
 stacle to a plaii for this purpose were the dispositions and sen- 
 timents of France! were that all, the plan need not long wait for 
 adoption. 
 
 Of this visionary project, the most visionary part is, without 
 question, that for the emancipation of distant dependencies. 
 What will an Englishman say when he sees two French mini- 
 sters* of the highest reputation — both at the head of their re- 
 spective departments — both joining in the opinion, that the ac- 
 complishment of this event, nay, the speedy accomplishment of 
 it, is inevitable, and one of them scrupling not to pronounce it 
 as eminently desirable. 
 
 It would only be the bringing things back, on these points, to 
 the footing they were on before the discovery of America. 
 Europe had then no colonies — no distant garrisons — no stand- 
 ing armies. It would have had no wars, but for the feudal sys- 
 tem-r— religious antipathy — the rage of conquest — and the un- 
 certainties of succession. Of these four causes, the first is hap- 
 pily extinct every where; the second and third almost every 
 where, and, at any rate, in France and England; the last might, 
 if not already extinguished, be so with great ease. 
 
 The moral feelings of men, in matters of national morality, 
 are still so far short of perfection, that, in the scale of estimation, 
 justice has not yet gained the ascendency over force. Yet this 
 prejudice may, in a certain point of view, by accident, be rather 
 favourable to this proposal than otherwise. Truth, and the ob- 
 ject of this essay, bid me to say to my countrymen, it is for you 
 to begin the reformation, — it is you that have been the greatest 
 sinners. But the same considerations also lead me to say to 
 them, you are the strongest among nations: though justice be 
 not on your side, force is; and it is your force that has been the 
 main cause of your injustice. If the measure of moral approba- 
 tion had been brought to perfection, such positions would have 
 been far from popular; prudence would have dictated the keep- 
 
 * Turgot and Vergcnnes, 
 
NATIONAL JEALOUSIES. 63 
 
 ing them out of sight, and the softening them down as much as 
 possible. 
 
 Humiliation would have been the effect produced by them on 
 those to whom they appeared true — indignation on those to 
 whom they appeared false. But, as I have observed, men have 
 not yet learned to tune their feelings in unison with the voice of 
 morality in these points. They feel more pride in being ac- 
 counted strong, than resentment in being called unjust ; or rather, 
 the imputation of injustice appears flattering rather than other- 
 wise, when coupled with the consideration of its cause. I feel it 
 in my own experience ; but if /, — listed as I am as the professed, 
 and hitherto the only advocate in my own country in the cause 
 of justice, — set a less value on justice than is its due, what can I 
 expect from the general run of men t — ii. 550-552. 
 
 NATIONAL JEALOUSIES. 
 
 It is because we do not know what strong motives other na- 
 tions have to be just, what strong Indications they have given of 
 the disposition to be so, how often we ourselves have deviated 
 from the rules of justice, — that we take for granted, as an indis- 
 putable truth, that the principles of injustice are in a manner in- 
 terwoven into the very essence of the hearts of other men. 
 
 The diffidence, which forms part of the character of the Eng- 
 lish nation, may have been one cause of this jealousy. The 
 dread of being duped by other nations — the notion that foreign 
 heads are more able, though at the same time foreign hearts are 
 less honest than our own, has always been one of oyr prevailing 
 .weaknesses. This diffidence has, perhaps, some connexion with 
 the mauvaise honfe, which has been remarked as commonly 
 showing itself in our behaviour, and which makes public speak- 
 ing and public exhibition in every line a task so much more for- 
 midable to us than to other people. 
 
 This diffidence may, perhaps, in part be accounted for, from 
 our living less in society, and accustoming ourselves less to 
 mixed companies; than the people of other nations. 
 
 But the particular cast of diffidence in question, the apprehen- 
 sion of being duped by foreign powers, is to be referred in part, 
 and perhaps principally, to another cause — the jealousy and 
 slight opinion we entertain of our ministers and public men ; we 
 are jealous of them as our superiors, contending against us in the 
 perpetual struggle for power ; we are diffident of them as being 
 our fellow-countrymen, and of the same mould as ourselves. 
 
 Jealousy is the vice of narrow minds ; — confidence the virtue) 
 
64 AN INVASION OP AMERICA. 
 
 of enlarged ones. To be satisfied that confidence between na- 
 tions is not out of nature where they have worthy ministers, one 
 need but read the account of the negotiation between De Wit 
 and Temple, as given by Hume. I say, by Hume: — for, as it 
 requires negotiators like De Wit and Temple to carry on such a 
 negotiation in such a manner, so it required a historian like 
 Hume to do it justice. For the vulgar among historians know 
 no other receipt for writing that part of history, than the finding 
 out whatever are the vilest and basest motives capable of ac- 
 counting for men's conduct in the situation in question, and then 
 ascribing it to those motives without ceremony and without proof 
 Temple apd De Wit, whose confidence in each other was so 
 exemplary and so just — Temple and De Wit were two of the 
 wisest, as well as most honourable, men in Europe. The age 
 which produced such virtue, was, however, the age of the pre- 
 tended Popish Plot, and of a thousand other enormities which 
 cannot now be thought of without horror. Since then, the 
 world has had upwards of a century to improve itself in expe- 
 rience, in reflection, in virtue. In every other line its improve- 
 ments have been immense and unquestioned. Is it too mueh to 
 hope that France and England might produce not a Temple and 
 a De Wit, — virtue so transcendent as theirs would not be neces- 
 sary, — but men who, in happier times, might achieve a work like 
 theirs with less extent of virtue'! — ii. 553-554. 
 
 AN INVASION OP AMERICA. 
 
 An invading army — Oh, yes; a curious enough sight would 
 be an invading army. But from whence, henceforward is it to 
 cornel From no whither, unless it be in a fleet of steam -boats 
 sent out from Washington to fetch it. Yes ; the very last inva- 
 sion from Europe that the confederacy will ever have expe- 
 rienced, is the one which was disposed of by that General,* in 
 whom, because the rifles under him performed so well, the unre- 
 flecting multitude behold their fittest President. 
 
 From England shall an armament come for this purpose "i If 
 expense be niischief— more mischief will it have done in England 
 — fo England — before starting, — than it could reasonably expect 
 to do in the United States, before the country had closed round it, 
 and disposed of it, as Burgoyne and Cornwallis were disposed of 
 If to the people of England the Colonies called their Colonies were 
 
 * General Jackson. 
 
WAhS FOR CONQUEST OR TRADE. 65 
 
 worth any thing, who does not see that every one of their com- 
 pulsorlly-governed American Colonies would be in the hands 
 of the freely-governed United Stales, a security for good beha- 
 viour on the part of the distant obedience-compelling rulers 1 — ix. 
 348 349. 
 
 WARS FOR CONCIUEST OR TRADE. 
 
 Conquests made by New Zealanders have some sense in them ; 
 while the conquered fry the conquerors fatten. Conquests made 
 by the polished nations of antiquity, — conquests made by Greeks 
 and Romans, — had some sense in them. Lands, moveables, in- 
 habitants, every thing went into the pocket. The invasions of 
 France in the days of the Edwards and the Henrys, had a ra- 
 tional object. Prisoners were taken, and the country was stript 
 to pay their ransom. The ransom of a single prisoner, a Duke 
 of Orleans, exceeded one-third of the national revenue of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Conquests made by a modern despot of the continent ha^fe still 
 some sense in them. The new property being contiguous, is laid 
 on to his old property ; the inhabitants, as many as he thinks fit 
 to set his mark upon, go to increase his armies; their substance 
 as much as he thinks fit to squeeze from them, goes into his purse. 
 
 Conquests made by the British nation would be violations of 
 common sense, were there no such thing as justice. They are 
 bungling imitations of miserable originals, bating the essential 
 circumstances. Nothing but confirmed blindness and stupidity 
 can prompt us to go on imitating Alexander and Cffisar, and the 
 New Zealanders, and Catharine and Frederick, without the profit. 
 
 If it be the king alone who gets the appointment to the places, 
 it is part of the nation, it may be said, that gets the benefit of 
 filling them. A precious lottery ! Fifty or one hundred mil- 
 lions the cost of the tickets. So many years' purchase often or 
 twenty thousand a-year, the value of the prizes. This if the 
 scheme succeed : — what if it fail! 
 
 I do not say there are no shares in the plunder : — it is impos- 
 sible for the head of a gang to put the whole of it into his own 
 pocket. All I contend for is, that robbery by whosesale is not so 
 profitable as by retail : —if the whole gang together pick the 
 pockets of strangers to a certain amount, the ringleaders pick 
 the pockets of the rest to a much greater. Shall I or shall I not 
 succeed in persuading my countrymen that it is not their interest 
 to be thieves ? 
 
 6* 
 
66 WARS FOR CONQUESTS OR TRADE. 
 
 " Oh, but you mistake !" cries somebody ; " we do not now 
 piake war for conquests, but for trade." More foolish still. 
 This is a still worse bargain than before. Conquer the whole 
 world, it is impossible you should increase your trade one half 
 penny: — it is impossible you should do otherwise than diminish 
 it. Conquer little or much, you pay for it by taxes: — but just so 
 much as a merchant pays in taxes, just so much he is disabled 
 from adding to the capital he employs in trade. Had you two 
 worlds to trade with, you could only trade with them to the 
 amount of your capital, and what credit you might meet with 
 on the strength of it. This being true of each trader, is so of all 
 traders. Find a fallacy in this short argument if you can. If 
 you obtained your new right of trading given you for nothing, 
 you would not be a halfpenny the richer : if you paid for them by 
 war or preparations for war — by just so much as you paid for 
 these you would be the poorer. 
 
 The good people of England, along with the right of self-go- 
 vernment, conquered prodigious right of trade. The Revolution 
 was to produce for them not only the blessings of security and 
 power, but immense and sudden wealth. Year has followed 
 ^fter year, and, to their endless astonishment, the progress to 
 wealth has gone on no faster than before. One piece of good 
 fortune still wanting, they have never thought of; — that on the 
 day their shackles were knocked off, some kind sylph should 
 have slipped a few thousand pounds into every man's pocket. 
 There is no law against my flying to the moon. Yet I cannot 
 get there. Why t Because I have no wings. What wings are 
 to flying, capital is to trade. 
 
 There are two ways of making war for trade, — forcing inde-i 
 pendent nations to let you trade with them, and conquering na- 
 tions, or pieces of nations, to make them trade with you. The 
 former contrivance is to appearance more easy, and the policy 
 of it the more refined. The latter is more in the good old way, 
 and the king does his own business and the nations at the same 
 time. He gets the naming to the places : and the nation cannot 
 choose but join with] him, being assured that it is all for the 
 sake of getting them the trade. The places he lays hold of, good 
 man, only out of necessity, and that they may not' go-a-begging ; — 
 on his own account, he has no more mind for them than a new- 
 made bishop for the mitre, or a new made speaker for the chair, 
 To the increase of trade, both these plans of war equally contri- 
 bute. What you get ip both cases is the pleasure of the war. 
 
 The legal right of trading to part of America was conquered 
 ty France from Britain in the last war. What have they got by 
 
MONARCHS AND WAR. 67 
 
 if! They have got Tobago, bankVuptcy, and a revolution, for 
 their fifty millions. Ministers, who to account for the bank- 
 ruptcy are forced to say something about the war, call it a 
 national one: — the king has not got by it, — therefore the na- 
 tion has. What has it got I A fine trade, were there but 
 capital to carry it on. With such room for trade, how comes 
 there to be no more of iti This is what merchants and manu- 
 facturers are putting themselves to the torture to account for. 
 The sylph so necessary elsewhere, was still more necessary 
 to France; since, over and above her other work, there was 
 the fifty millions spent in powder and shot to replace. — ii. 
 557-558. 
 
 MONARCHS AND WAR. 
 
 Monarchs, it may be said, are apt to go to war with each other: 
 and when with any two monarchs this happens to be the case, 
 the subjects of each should in that monarch who is the enemy of 
 their monarch, (that is, of their natural enemy,) have a friend. 
 But in practice this is not the case. The war which one monarch 
 carries on with another monarch is a war of rivalry, but it is not 
 a war of enmity: every monarch is to every other monarch an 
 object of respect: and where there is respect on both sides, no 
 Footed, no decided enmity can be said to have place on either side. 
 Between monarch and monarch, war is, upon the largest scale, 
 that which between professed pugilist and professed pugilist, 
 it is upon the smallest scale. By one another monarchs 
 are styled brothers, and on that one occasion they are sincere; 
 for they have a common interest, and that interest is paramount 
 to every other interest. Many a monarch has given up to a 
 brother monarch, and freely too, dominions which he might 
 have kept if he had pleased. No monarch ever gave up freely 
 to his own subjects an atom of, power which in his eyes could 
 be retained with safety. War is a game — a game of back- 
 gammon. Between two players at the game of war, there is 
 no more enmity than between two players at backgammon. 
 In the breasts of the players at war there is no more feeling 
 for the men of flesh and bone, than during the game at back- 
 gammon there is on the part of the men of wood for one ano- 
 ther or themselves. While to one another all monarchs are ob- 
 jects of sympathy, to all monarchs all subjects are objects of 
 antipathy; of a sort of compound sentiment, made up of fear, 
 hatred, and contempt; something like that which women and 
 children are apt to feel for a toad, tn the breasts of all monarchs 
 
68 VIRTUES OF A MONARCH. 
 
 there accordingly exists at all times a natural alliance, defensive 
 and offensive, against all subjects. 
 
 Between injurer and injured, the man on whose part anti- 
 pathy towards the other is most apt to arise, is he by whom the 
 injuf-y has been inflicted: the one on whose part it arises with 
 greatest difficulty, if ever it arises at all, is he by whom the in- 
 jury has been sustained. 
 
 Betwixt every monarch and every other there exists a power- 
 ful cause of sympathy. In the instance of all of them, on the 
 same set of principles, is grounded that obedience by which their 
 power is constituted, and in proportion to which it has place : 
 disposition the effect of habit : habit the effect of force, fear, cor- 
 ruption, delusion, sinister interest, interest-begotten and autho- 
 rity-begotten prejudice. By every other throne he sees shaking, 
 if the shock be from without, he feels the shock communicated 
 to his own.— ix. 129-130. 
 
 A DESPOT'S INTEREST IN THE PROSPERITY OF HIS 
 SUBJECTS. 
 
 Between every animal of prey on the one part, and the ani- 
 mals preyed upon on the other, a certain community of interests 
 has place. It is the interest of the wolf that the sheep should be 
 fat and abundant, and that pasture, to render them so, shbuld 
 abound at all times. It is the interest of the commander of an 
 invading army, that not only subsistence, but abundance should 
 have place in the greatest possible quantity wherever he makes 
 his inroads. It is the interest of all pirates, that wealth should be 
 abundant in all seas and on all coasts to which their piracies are 
 to be directed. It is the interest of all highwaymen, not only 
 that travellers should be numerous, but that their purses should 
 be well-lined. Exactly of the same sort is the interest which the 
 monarch has in common with his subjects. — ix. 102. 
 
 THE VIRTUES OF A MONARCH. 
 
 By beneficence, positive or even negative on a small scale, he 
 obtains a reputation by which he is enabled to practise, without 
 reproach, maleficence on the largest scale. " Curse on his vir- 
 tues ! they have destroyed his country!" George the Third, be- 
 cause he behaved well to his wife, was proclaimed the best of kings. 
 
ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF MONARCHY. 69 
 
 Nine times in the course of his sixty years' reign did George 
 the Third, with his ever-ready accomplices, force the people to 
 pay his debts. The trader who, by inevitable misfortune — 
 mere misfortune without the smallest cause of reproach, even 
 on the score of imprudence, is rendered insolvent, — is thereby 
 rendered in a greater or less degree an object of disrespect: still 
 more, and in an increasing ratio, if the like misfortune comes 
 upon him a second time. The insolvencies of George the Third 
 were in every instance the result of his own profusion, without 
 the smallest admixture of misfortune. No money could be 
 issued without his signature: and he was notoriously attentive 
 as well as punctual in the giving of it. He made immense profit 
 by his wars, — profit to himself and family: witness the Droits 
 of Admiralty; and he took care to exempt himself from loss: 
 witness the exemption from the income-tax given to his private 
 property in government annuities — or the funds, as the phrase 
 is.— ix, 141-142. 
 
 OEIGIN AND PROGRESS OF MONARCHY. 
 
 Pure monarchy was the original, because the simplest form of 
 government. It had its origin in the necessity men were under 
 of putting themselves under the command, of a single chief, in 
 the wars between one savage or barbarous tribe and another. 
 Thus came on the one part, the habit of obedience; on the other 
 part, the habit of command; and by the frequency of actual war, 
 and the constancy of preparation for a state of war, the habit of 
 obedience and command was preserved from interruption. 
 
 The children and next relations of the monarch being naturally 
 most frequently in his company, and in the largest proportion 
 sharers in his confidence, hence it was that the elective monarchy, 
 naturally passed into an hereditary one. 
 
 But though this was the natural, and in early times, the inevi- 
 table state of things, it follows not that it was the state of things 
 in the highest degree contributory to the greatest happiness of 
 the greatest number. 
 
 Monarchy comes to have place now, by its being established; 
 almost all men are born under it, all men are used to it, few men 
 are used to any thing else: till of late years, nobody ever dis- 
 praised it; every body praised it: nobody saw any thing better, 
 nobody knew of any thing better,few had heard of any thing better: 
 men were reconciled to mixed monarchy in England, by the same 
 causes by which they were reconciled to pure monarchy in Mo- 
 
70 ClviL WAR IN REPOBLICS. 
 
 rocco, Turkey, and Hisdostan. No state of things so bad, but 
 that acquiescence under it, may be produced by ignorance of bet- 
 ter: in a word, by habit, by authority, and by the instruments 
 of corruption and delusion by which it became surrounded. — 
 ix. 134. 
 
 SPIRIT OF DESPOTIC LEGISLATION. 
 
 In the view talcen of the field of legislation, by the scribe of 
 the absolute monarch, it swarms in every part with rebels. To 
 afford security to him against the enterprises of adversaries in 
 this shape is the most anxious of his cares. He is encompassed 
 ■with enemies on all sides and at all times : the very form of his 
 government, the objects and design so undisguisedly evidenced 
 by it, suffices to convert into adversaries to him, all men who are 
 not so to their fellow-countrymen and themselves. Of their 
 hatred, he assures himself: of the justness of it, as well as of the 
 impossibility of keeping it from coming into existence, he is fully 
 conscious. The utmost he can hope for is to guard himself 
 against that part of its effects which is most formidable to him. 
 In this view, he scruples not to appoint punishment for the mani- 
 festation of it : punishment for all those who, seeing what he is, 
 make known to others what they see : punishing all who, on any 
 occasion on which their sentiments are other than favourable to 
 him, make known those sentiments. If there be any sure me- 
 thods of creating hatred, this is one of them: but seeing love 
 hopeless, seeing every affection better than hatred inconsistent 
 with every rational view of the case, he is content thus to draw 
 upon himself hatred, for the additional chance which he thus 
 thinks to give himself of escaping from the effects of it. — ix. 134. 
 
 CIVIL WAR IN REPUBLICS. 
 
 Under a representative democracy, though there can be no less 
 majesty, divine or human, nor any thing of that stamp, there may 
 be hostility : for there may be disagreement ; disagreement by 
 men in any numbers on two opposite sides: and how improbable 
 soever, such disagreement may rise to hostility. Here then is 
 war ; and this war a civil war. It will be carried on as in the 
 case of ordinary war, carried on between civilized nations : it will 
 be carried on, by each in such a manner, as shall present to its 
 view the fairest promise for the attainment of its end, with the 
 
SUBVERSION OF PROPERTY. 71 
 
 least damage, — in the first place to itself, in the next place to the 
 enemy. Some will accordingly, on the losing side at least, be 
 killed, others woynded, others in the situation of prisoners, left 
 at the disposal of the commander of the victorious army. 
 
 Having them at his disposal, how will he deal with them I Does 
 he put them to death in cold blood,' with a gang of lawyers to 
 give form and colour to his cruelty t Will he, with any such 
 gang for his prompters, tell them that their blood is corrupt, and 
 that on that account it was just and necessary that their wives 
 and children should be destitute of subsistence, and in that state 
 kept by law, as far as practicable till they die I No ; he will do 
 nothing of all these things : the men he will keep to the best of 
 his power; their arms he will as soon as possible take into his 
 custody, lest they should turn them against him and his. But 
 sooner or later hostility will give place to peace. On that joyful 
 occasion these captives will, the whole remainder of them, be 
 sent back to their homes and families, bodies fed, wounds healed, 
 ignominy in no shape, either cast upon them, or endeavoured to 
 be cast. Whence all these differences? Answer: On neither 
 side has any vice-god been seen or fancied : and on neither side 
 has any such words as legitimacy been pronounced. — ix. 38. 
 
 ARISTOCRACIES NEVER ABDICATE. 
 
 Of voluntary surrenders of monarchy — surrenders made into 
 the hands of expectant and monarchical successors, there is no 
 want of examples : not even in modern — not even in European 
 history : — Charles the Fifth of Germany, monarch of so many 
 vast monarchies — Christina of Sweden — Victor Amadeus of 
 Savoy — Philip the Ffth of Spain : — here, in so many different 
 nations, we have already four examples. But, on the part of an 
 arislociatical body, of the surrender of any the minutest particle 
 of power which they were able to retain, where is there as much 
 as any one example to be found T— iii. 527. 
 
 CHARGES AGAINST THE PEOPLE OP DESIGNING 
 THE SUBVERSION OP PROPERTY. 
 
 Supposing destruction to come, they, and not their adversaries 
 would be the first to be involved in it; and this priorty is too 
 manifest to have ever been unobserved by themselves. 
 
72 SUBVERSION OF PROPERTY. 
 
 Yes, if they were all agriculturists, on that supposition, with 
 a spade in hand, ground to turn up with it, and potato-cuttings 
 to put into it, if a man could live for a time without fuel or fresh 
 clothing, he might keep himself alive, provided always that he 
 tfould vi^ait till the' potato-germs had grown into potatoes. 
 
 Such is the condition in which, on the receipt of the supposed 
 benefit, the labourers in husbandry would find themselves placed: 
 such the prospect which it would hold out to them. The 
 labourers in manufactures, and other labourers other than those 
 in husbandry, — what is the prospect it would hold out to them? 
 In comparison with their lot, the lot of the man bred up in hus- 
 bandry labour-^ruinous as we have seen it — would be an envi- 
 able one. The period arrived, the husbandman would have 
 nothing to learn, the non-husbandman would have every thing 
 to learn — digging, manuring, sowing, weeding, reaping, every 
 thing: all this he would have to learn, and in the meantime he 
 would have to starve. 
 
 Meantime, the supposed objects of this desperate rage — the 
 owners of property — how would it be with them? They would 
 be the last to suffer: all of them together the last; and among 
 them, the richer a man were, and thence by the supposition the 
 more obnoxious, the longer it would be before his time of suffer- 
 ing came. With more or less disadvantage, he who, had pro- 
 perty would, by exporting it along with himself, retain a part 
 of it, or get something for it in the way of exchange. But the 
 supposed intended plunderers, no property could they export, 
 any more than their own persons; the land they could not ex- 
 port, and that, with or without buildings on it, is all — so it has 
 been shown over and over again — that would be left in their 
 hands. Yes: it is upon their heads that the calamity would fall 
 in the first instance. Never, any where, but in the wages of 
 labour, can they have beholden the source of their subsistence. 
 As to the manufacturers in particular, in no small proportion 
 have they had for their sole purchasers the opulent class, as 
 rising one above another throughout the whole scale of opu- 
 lence. 
 
 Long before the time when the power of commencing the 
 partition had got into any of the hands charged with being dis- 
 posed to use it, the proprietors, instead of continuing to employ 
 any of their money, as usual, in the purchase of the manufac- 
 tures they had been accustomed to consume, would cease from 
 all such purchases altogether. With every thing they had, or 
 could get, that is exportable, they would take their flight from 
 the country, as above. — iii. 607-608. 
 
EQUALIZATION OF PROPERTY. 73 
 
 ANTICIPATED EFFECTS OP A GENERAL EQUALIZA- 
 TION OF PROPERTY. 
 
 The English nation is, for a nation of any considerable size, 
 generally acknowledged to be the richest, in proportion to the 
 number of the people, of any nation under the sun. But in this 
 richest nation, those who have reckoned its wealth at the high- 
 est, have not set down the annual expenditure of its inhabitants, 
 taking even the very richest into the account, at more than £20 
 a-year each. If, then, the whole wealth of the nation were divided 
 with the most perfect equality among its inhabitants ; and were 
 all of it capable of being thus divided, it would scarcely be more 
 than sufficient to enable every one of them, so long as the stock 
 of it was kept up at the same level, to spend more than £20 a- 
 year. But were such a distribution to be made, an immense mul- 
 titude of articles — wealth to an immense amount — must neces- 
 sarily be struck out, as being incapable of division, and thence 
 incapable of entering into the distribution. At 30 years' pur- 
 chase, a perpetual income of £20 a-year corresponds to a capi- 
 tal or principal sum of £600. All articles, therefore, of a value 
 superior to £600, must either be destroyed at once, or left to 
 perish, sooner or later, for want of being kept up ; that is, kept in 
 repair, and properly taken care of 
 
 The following, then, are the articles to the existence of which 
 thfo system in question would be fatal ; and that not only in the 
 first instance, but for ever after during its continuance; and of 
 which the aggregate value must therefore be struck out of the 
 aggregate amount of the national wealth. 
 
 1 . All buildings above the mark ; that is, all that would now 
 be thought to come under the name of considerable buildings — 
 all considerable dwelling-houses, warehouses, manufactories. 
 
 2. All furniture, except what is now of the meanest kind— all 
 furniture suitable to the circumstances of a family having more 
 than £20 a-year a-head to live on. 
 
 3. Ail horses except a few of those at present kept for hus- 
 bandry. No one nor two in a family could afford to keep a horse, 
 since the expense of that article alone would exceed the family 
 income. All horses fit for military service ; consequently a great 
 part of the manure which is supplied by that valuable species of 
 cattle would be lost. In the earliest, and what are vulgarly called 
 the purest times of the Roman Commonwealth, those whose 
 wealth enabled them to serve on horseback formed an order of 
 men, distinct from and superior to those who served on foot. 
 
 7 
 
74 ANTICIPATED EFFECTS OF A 
 
 A commonwealth that admitted of such distinctions, could never 
 be tolerated under this system of equalization. 
 
 4. All considerable libraries. All libraries the value of which 
 depended upon their completeness in regard to any particular 
 branch of literature, and of which the characteristic value would 
 be destroyed by the degree of dispersion which the execution of 
 the equalization plan would necessitate. 
 
 5. All considerable collections of natural history ; and hence 
 all means of prosecuting that branch of study to advantage would 
 cease. 
 
 6. All considerable laboratories and establishments for the pro- 
 secution of experimental inquiries with a view to the advance- 
 ment of agriculture, manufactures, or arts. Hence all means of 
 promoting the advancement, or even preventing the decay of ex- 
 perimental science, would cease. 
 
 7. All fortunes capable of affording funds sufficient for the 
 purchase of the constant supply of publications relative to any 
 branch of knowledge at the rate of abundance at which the lite- 
 rary market is supplied with these productions in the present 
 state of things. 
 
 8. All fortunes capable of affording funds applicable to the 
 improvement of land, mines, or fisheries, upon an extensive and 
 advantageous scale. 
 
 9. All fortunes capable of affording, at .an early period of life, 
 a fund in store sufficient for the maintenance of the numbers of 
 children of which the marriage union may in every instance, and 
 in many instances will eventually be productive. 
 
 10. The whole value of the labours of those whose industry is 
 at present employed in supplying the productions adapted to the 
 demands of persons in easy circumstances — of all those at present 
 employed as workmen in the different branches of the arts, and 
 of the finer manufactures — all musicians, architects, painters, 
 sculptors, engravers, carvers, gilders, embroiderers, weavers of 
 fine stuffs, florists, and the like. All these finding nobody rich 
 enough to deal with them, must immediately betake thera-selves 
 to husbandry or other coarse labour, which their habits of life 
 have disqualified them from exercising to any advantage. 
 
 11. The whole of that property which consists in annuities 
 payable by government out of the produce of taxes imposed on 
 the fruits of industry. As those taxes are imposed almost exclu- 
 sively on superfluities, and all superfluities will be expunged from 
 the book of national wealth, national bankruptcy will be among 
 the necessary and immediate consequences of such a change. 
 
GENERAL EQUALIZATION OF PROPERTY. 75 
 
 12. Whether it be of advantage or of detriment to the state, 
 or a matter of indifference, that small farms should be laid into 
 large ones, is a controverted point, upon which it is not necessary 
 here to touch. But what cannot admit of controversy is, that in 
 a multitude of instances, farms, large or small, would suffer much 
 in value by being broken' down into smaller ones. A spring or 
 pond, a convenient communication with the highway or bridge, 
 serves at present for the whole of a farm ■ divide this farm among 
 a number of proprietors, and only a small part of the original 
 farm, or perhaps no part at all, will now derive any benefit from 
 that conveniency, which before the division was enjoyed by the 
 whole. A certain portion of land fit for one sort of culture, re- 
 quires certain other portions of land fit for other sorts of culture, 
 to be employed with most advantage; — ^to so much arable, so 
 much wood, so much meadow land. Under the division, one 
 man has wherewithal to buy the meadow land only, another the 
 wood-land only, and the arable must be divided into several 
 little plots, to come within the quantum of purchase-money 
 which the equalization plan allows. There are fields, each of 
 them too large for any one purchaser, and which, without new 
 enclosures correspondent to the number of the purchasers, must 
 lose the benefit of enclosure. But the purchaser's capital is all 
 of it expended in the purchase : he has nothing, no fund left for 
 the expenses of enclosure. One house, one set of outhouses, 
 serve for the whole of the farm in its undivided, state. Diyide 
 it into the £'iO a-year portions, he who gets the dwelling-house 
 is perhaps unable to get the outhouses ; if he get the house and 
 outhouses, he perhaps is unable to get any of the land ; if he 
 get a small scrap of the land, and it can be but a small one, 
 none of the other fragments of farms carved out of the en- 
 tire farm has any building belonging to it. But without build- 
 ings, they will be worth little or nothing ; and as to erecting 
 the buildings, it is impossible : what capital each man had, is 
 expended in the purchase of the naked land. But as every man 
 must have a house to live in, and every man who cultivates a 
 farm must have outhouses of some kind or other to lodge the 
 stock and produce of it, a fund for these articles of indispensable 
 necessity muSt be provided in the first instance, and the frag- 
 ments of farms must consequently be reduced to the miserable 
 and unproductive pittance, the annual value of which corres- 
 ponds to the small remnant of capital that remains to buy them. 
 Thus great is the part of the existing mass of wealth which would 
 therefore be destroyed by the division, as being in its own nature 
 Incapable of division. But of that which remained, as not being 
 
76 ANTICIPATED EFFECTS OP A 
 
 in its own nature incapable of division, a great part again would 
 be consumed in the process. Tiie whole mass of national pro- 
 perty would have to come under the hammer ; and every time 
 either the sale of an estate or a division of the produce of the sale 
 came to be made, every sale and every distribution would afford 
 a fresh source of disputes between the plundered and the plun- 
 dered, between plunderers and plunderers, and between plun- 
 derers and plundered, and a fresh demand for the labours of, 
 and a fresh harvest for the men of law. Auctioneers with their 
 retainers are already, in the present system of things, in no 
 small number ; men of law in greater number than most people 
 would wish to see. On the system in question, the populousness 
 of these predatory professions would be multiplied beyond all 
 measure. An effective tithe of the national property, not to 
 speak of a nominal tithe like the present ecclesiastical one, would 
 scarcely be sufficient for the payment of this enormous mass of 
 unproductive and disastrous services. 
 
 Present time, it may be said, is but a point : it is as nothing 
 in comparison with futurity.- Admitting that the existing gene- 
 ration might, upon the whole, be losers by such a change, those 
 whose ardent zeal would prompt them to attempt it, may still 
 think or affect to think, the change an advantageous one for the 
 human species upon the whole. But futurity would have as 
 little reason to rejoice in it as present time. 
 
 Opulence is valuable, not merely on its own account, but as a 
 security for subsistence. The rich, were they to deserve pro- 
 scription because of their riches, deserve to be saved from pro- 
 scription in quality of bankers to the poor. Estates broken 
 down to the scantling it question, or to any thing like that scant- 
 ling, would afford no resource against scarcity, or any other ca- 
 lamity, such as fire, famine, or pestilence, that required a consi- 
 derable treasure in store to be employed to''alleviate the load, 
 of it. They would afford no fund for the expenses of a war 
 even of a defensive one. 
 
 ********* 
 
 As to the gainers — (I speak always of the immediate and mo- 
 mentary gainers, for ultimately, as we shall see, there would 
 scarcely be a real gainer left in the nation) — as to the real gainers 
 if they vyere to be looked for any where, it would be in the class 
 of the present day-labourers in husbandry. Their employment 
 need not to be changed : they would continue labourers in hus- 
 bandry, with this comfortable difference, as it would be thought, 
 of labouring upon, and for the benefit of their own property, 
 instead of other people's. But even these would for the most 
 
GENERAL EftUALlZATION OP PROPERTy. 77 
 
 part gain nothing but ruin by the change. Their fragments of 
 farms having no buildings on them, would be useless to them till 
 buildings could be erected. A man might farm profitably, and 
 live comfortably a year or two hence, if he were then alive : but 
 in the meantime he would not be able to farm or live at all. 
 The immense multitude of new created farms, all of them with- 
 out buildings, would require an Immense and instant multiplica- 
 tion of the number of workmen concerned in building. But 
 this number, instead of being multiplied, or so much as increased, 
 would be as immediately and permanently reduced : for they 
 too would have their portions, as well as the labourers in hus- 
 bandry : if they laboured any longer, it would be on their own 
 property, not upon other people's. If they laboured at all, what 
 inducement would they have to labour upon other people's pro- 
 perty, or indeed for other people ? What would they get by it? 
 an addition to their respective portions 7 But that, by the sup- 
 position is not to be suffered. No sooner was it become proper- 
 ty, than it would come to be divided : no sooner had they got it, 
 than it would be taken from them. 
 
 This supposes every body, day-labourers and mechanics, de- 
 voted to industry, disposed to frugality, proof against all tempta- 
 tion to excess, even in the midst of a sudden and unexpected 
 influx of the momentary means of excess and dissipation. But 
 even in the present system of things, this extraordinary degree 
 of moderation is, under such circumstances, hardly to be expect- 
 ed from one in ten among those classes ; apd under the proposed 
 new system, industry and frugality would be but folly, as we 
 shall presently have occasion to observe. 
 
 Who would be the losers — I mean the immediate losers — by 
 such a change ? Those, and at first sight it might seem those 
 only, whose present fortunes are above the mark. But these 
 would be but a small part of the real and effective losers. To 
 the list of present proprietors must be added that of all those sons 
 of industry whose present annual earnings are to a certain 
 amount superior in value to the intended common portion ;— all 
 professional men in any tolerable practice — physicians, surgeons, 
 lawyers, artists, factors, and the like; — many handicrafts of the 
 superior kind, siich as mathematical-instrument makers, mill- 
 wrights, shipwrights, musical-instrument makers, &c. ; and even 
 mere labourers, where the labour is severe, as coal-heavers, &c., 
 earn from £50 to £200 a-year, which the greater part of them 
 3re in the habit of spending as it comes. What would be either 
 their present feelings, or even their future advantage, on changing 
 
 7* 
 
78 ANTICIPATED EFFECTS OF A 
 
 their dE50 or £200 a-year for life into a perpetuity even of 
 
 £20 a-year, supposing the common portion could amount to so 
 
 much, instead of falling widely short of that mark, as it will soon 
 
 be seen to doT 
 
 ********** 
 
 But why combat shadows, it may be said, and expatiate upon 
 a scheme of equalization which you are representing as imprac- 
 ticable? It is only for equality, so far, and so far only as it is 
 practicable, and practicable to advantage, that we contend : for 
 the lopping off the superfluities of overgrown and excessive opu- 
 lence, for alleviating the sufferings of excessive misery ; for plant- 
 ing and maintaining the virtuous race of industrious proprietors, 
 for planting and maintaining plenty without luxury, and inde- 
 pendence without insolence. To push any system to an absurd 
 excess, and then give the abuse of the system as the system itself 
 what can be more uncandid or more inconclusive ? Your ob- 
 jections would be just enough if applied to the abuse of the sys- 
 tem proposed, but have no force against a moderate and prudent 
 application of it. 
 
 My answer is, that it admits not of any moderate or prudent 
 application : that the principle admits not of your stopping'any 
 where in the application of it : that on pain of abandoning and 
 passing condemnation on the principle, when once the process 
 of forced equalization is begun, it must go on and be pursued 
 all lengths, even to the lengths that havfe been described : that 
 the principle publicly avowed by the professed partisans of 
 equality, go all these lengths in the very words, as well as ac- 
 cording to the spirit of their most public and most boasted pro- 
 ductions : that the doctrine of equal rights is laid down without 
 reserve : that no line is drawn, or attempted to be drawn ; that 
 the words employed exclude the drawing of any such line ; and 
 that if any line had been drawn, or were to be attempted to be 
 drawn, the attempt would not so much as palliate, much less 
 remedy the evil : and that to the imputation of error it would 
 only add the reproach of inconsistency and dereliction of prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 To stop at any one point in the career of forced equalization, 
 would neither afford security to such of the rich as it left unplun- 
 dered, nor satisfaction to the poor whom it left unenriched. An ob- 
 ject being avowed, which can never be attained so long as I have 
 a penny more than the beggar that plies before my door, what 
 assurance can I give myself any day (says the rich man, who 
 hath as yet been spared,) that it may not be my turn the next! 
 Will the vagabonds that have as yet got no share, be satisfied 
 
GENERAL EQUALIZATION OP PROPERTY. 79 
 
 with the plunder that has fallen to the lot of their brother vaga- 
 bonds that are consuming theirs f Where is the justice, where 
 the equality of this pretended equalization plani cries the expec- 
 tant beggar, whom the division has not yet reached. Why have 
 my wants been so long neglected, while those of my neighbour 
 have been so long satisfied? Am I less a citizen than he? is my 
 happiness less a part of the happiness of the community than 
 his? So far firom gaining by the change, I am as yet a loser by 
 it. Till now, only the few, now the many, are above me. Till 
 now, my superiors were out of my sight ; now they are inces- 
 santly at my elbow. Till now, my superiors were all strangers 
 to me ; now my equals, my familiars, swell the list. Not a step 
 can I stir without falling in with an acquaintance, revelling in 
 enjoyments, of which, it seems, I am destined never to partake. 
 As these discontents will arise at every step made in the pro- 
 gress, so will they at every other that can be made, and always 
 with equal reason — or rather with superior and accumulating 
 reason. Every preceding step will have afforded a precedent, 
 and the commencement of a justification of the succeeding ones : 
 what at first was theory, will have been settled into practice : 
 what at first was innovation, will have become establishment: 
 till at length the original race of proprietors having been reduced 
 to nothing, and all hope or possibility pf repairing an injustice 
 done to them being annihilated, the opposition made by justice 
 will have ceased : justice will have become indifferent, and as it 
 were neutral : the injustice of going on will not be exceeded by 
 the injustice of stopping. Name who can the point at which the 
 line of stoppage can be drawn. No such line hath as yet been 
 drawn by any man; no such line attempted to be drawn by any 
 man. Let arbitrary power have decreed (and what but power 
 the most arbitrary could decree) that a line of this sort shall be 
 drawn ; that bounds of this sort shall be set to the process of 
 equalization, — what but caprice can draw it ? what but cor- 
 ruption will be said or will be thought to have set them f * * 
 Not only the good expected from such a change would be too 
 expensive, but were it ever so desirable, it would be altogether 
 unattainable — at least unmaintainable for two instants together. 
 Past equality does not answer the intention — present equality is 
 the object ; and whatever reason there may be for aiming at it 
 at any one period of time, the same reason will there be for main- 
 taining it at every other period of time. A fresh division must 
 therefore be made upon every division that happened in the num- 
 ber of the sharers : a fresh division upon every birth, and upon 
 
80 EatJALIZATION OP PROfBRTY. 
 
 every death a fresh division; or the inutilty and folly of the 
 original division must stand confessed. 
 
 Of this perpetual necessity of fresh divisions, what would be 
 the result? Nobody would have any thing he could call his own: 
 all property would in effect be destroyed — all present property, 
 and all prospect of security in respect of property in future: all 
 idea of subsistence except from hand to mouth: all incentive to 
 labour beyond the satisfaction of the necessities of the day; for 
 why should I bestow my labour to-day in the improvement of 
 that property, which may b,e torn from me to-morrow? 
 
 A fresh division would again require to take pUcp every time 
 a persofl. became helpless to such a degree as to be unable to 
 make his own little property (his £ 15, his £10 a-year, or what- 
 ever the original portion of 3220 was reduced to) suffice for his 
 own maintenance — a fresh division, or some other arrangement 
 capable of answering the same purpose. Every birth adds, during 
 the age of helplessness, to the sum of burdens; every death, by 
 taking from the sum of burdens, adds relatively to the sum of 
 benefits. But the addition made to the sum of burdens by in- 
 firmity happening to a grown person, is much greater than that 
 made by the birth of an infant: the adult requires many times 
 as much as the infant for his sustenance. The portion of the 
 adult, now become helpless, was too sijiall to afford him sub- 
 sistence without the beqefit of his labour to improve it. Being 
 now incapable of all labour, he must either perish, or, to keep 
 him alive, the portion of other people must be laid under con- 
 tribution to make up the difference. Here, then, comes the 
 necessity of a system to answer the purpose of the present poor- 
 laws, with this difference — that for maintaining the growing in- 
 crease of the poor, there remain none but what are poor already. 
 The dispensations of equality have brought back the age of vir- 
 tue — be itso: but virtue, however it may diminish disease, will 
 not destroy it; virtue will not extirpate the small-pox nor the 
 contagious fever; virtue will not prevent legs nor arms from 
 breaking; virtue will not give robustness nor agility to the ex- 
 tremity of old age. 
 
 Equality amongst the members of a community — equality, 
 whatever be the standard portion — includes two points: that no 
 member shall have more than that portion; and that no one 
 shall have less. The first of these points is attainable by the 
 equalization system to great perfection: the latter not. To the 
 latter, this pure, and exalted system, is not more competent than 
 the present abusive and corrupt one: it is even much less so. To 
 industry it affords no new encouragement; on the contrary, it 
 
NATIONAL DEBT. 81 
 
 takes from it whatever encouragement it has at present. To 
 what purpose should 1 earn more than the poorest of my fellow- 
 citizens, when so much as I earn more than them, so much will 
 be taken from me. Neither to idleness nor to dissipation does it 
 administer any new discouragement ; on the contrary, it gives 
 to both of these dispositions encoureigement, and that the great- 
 est they can receive. Putting idleness upon a footing of equality 
 in point of future advantage with industry, and dissipation with 
 frugality, it gives too each the portion of present pleasure 
 with which it is attended, clear. Why, so long as I have a penny 
 left, should I refuse the most expensive desire its gratification — 
 when, whatever I dissipate of my own present stock, must be 
 made up to me from that of other people'! To what purpose, while 
 I have a penny left, should I plague myself with working — when, 
 so long as I have any thing to pay, others will work for me with 
 pay, and when I have no longer pay to give them, they must 
 work for me without it 1 
 
 Here, then, is a perpetual race between dissipation and idle- 
 ness on the one hand, and that plan of division, whatever it be 
 by which the law of equalization is carried into execution, on 
 the other : dissipation and idleness continually widening the gap ; 
 division of property using its best endeavours to fill it up. But 
 the pace of dissipation is the pace of the racer; the pace of legal 
 division that of the tortoise. 
 
 All this while, the members of the community are divided into 
 two classes : the industrious and frugal, slaves toiling for others : 
 the idle and prodigal, lords and masters, enjoying for themselves. 
 Such would be the fruit of the equalization system, while the 
 execution of it was going on, until a certain portion of the na- 
 tional wealth having been destroyed in a variety of ways, and 
 a certain portion of the national population destroyed by a mix- 
 ture of famine and excess, the miserable would awaken from 
 their delirium, curse the system and its inventors, and join their en- 
 deavours to bring back their former state of things. — i. 358-364. 
 
 EFFECT OF A SPONGE ON THE NATIONAL DEBT. 
 
 Would not the nation be the poorer, if a sponge were passed 
 over the national debt 1 Would not there be so much property 
 destroyed? Not an atom more than would be produced at the 
 same instant. Would not the nation be less wealthy f No : not 
 at least at the instant of the change. Would it be less happy? 
 
82 PROPERTY AND FAMILY. 
 
 Yes : wretched in the extreme. Soon after, would it be less 
 wealthy! Yes : to a frightful degree, by reasons of the shock 
 given to security in respect to property, and the confusion that 
 would ensue. Thirty millions a-year that used to be received 
 by annuitants, no longer received — thirty millions a-year that 
 used to be paid in taxes by all classes, and all individuals to- 
 gether, for the payment of those annuitants, no longer paid. Na- 
 tional wealth would no more be diminished by the sponge, than 
 it is when a handlcerchief is transferred from the pocket of a pas- 
 senger to the pocket of a thief. Sum for sum, however, the en- 
 joyment produced by gain is not equal to the sufferings produced 
 by loss. In this difference, traced through all its consequences, 
 lies the mischief, and the sole mischief, of bankruptcy or of 
 theft.— iii. 81. 
 
 ARE THE MULTITUDE PREJUDICED AGAINST PRO- 
 PERTY AND FAMILY! 
 
 Look to the most populous of all populous boroughs ! Look 
 10 Westminster ! Number of electors, even many years back, 
 not fewer than 17,000: swine not all of them indeed — the Dean 
 and Chapter being of the number — not to speak of Right Ho- 
 nourables and Honourables ; — swine's flesh, however, predomi- 
 nant — abundantly predominant : swinish the character, of the 
 vast majority of that vast multitude. 
 
 Well, then, look to Westminster — look first to time present — 
 see now what you have there. See you not Lord Cochrane 1 
 What do you see there 1 See you not blood and property in 
 one'! — blood from ancestors — property from the source most 
 prized — the source from whence all your oldest property sprung 
 — enemies' blood, with plunder for the fruit of it^ — See you not 
 Sir Francis Burdett 1 — have not you there blood enough and 
 property enough 1 Look now a little back : — Before you had either 
 Cochrane or Burdett, had not you Charles Fox t had you him 
 not as long as the country had him? 
 
 Even within this twelvemonth, when a vacancy was appre- 
 hended, what sort of man was it that was looked to for the filling 
 of it? Was it a man of and frnm the people 1 Was it the Cob- 
 ban, with his penmanship, his 60,000 purchasers, and his ten 
 times 60,000 readers f Was it the He7iry Hunt, with his oratory 1 
 Was it not Carlwrig-ht of the Cartwris:hts oi Northamptonshire? 
 — was it not Brougham of Brougham? —and howsoever by these 
 men the plea of Ulysses might be put In — " Neve mihi noceat 
 
■WHAT IS NATURAL LIBERTY ■? 83 
 
 quod vobis semper Achivi profult ingenium," not the less were 
 there the genus et proavi; — and whether sitting for Westminster, 
 or looked to for Westminster, the case of a man who had neither 
 the blood element nor the property element, remains still without 
 example. 
 
 Look at Bristol, the next most populous city. When a man 
 was looked for, who should, if possible, stem the tide of corrup- 
 tion — that tide which so naturally flows so strong in maritime 
 and commercial cities — who is it that was looked fori Was it 
 the Spa Fields orator I — did he not try and fail there I Was it 
 not Sir Samuel Romilly ; — and though (from an irregularity, for 
 which, by some country gentleman or other, whose aptitude was 
 in his acres, — a Mr. Eyre, or a Mr. Frankland, which was it? — 
 he was so consistently called to order,) the blood he had came from 
 the wrong side of the channel, (and with a something in it too near- 
 ly allied to puritanism to be relished by legitimacy,) — yet (not to 
 speak of the swinish elements, which are of no value but io Utopia) 
 — blood, such as it was, there was in him — bloodp — yes ; and 
 properly too, — though, whether then as now savouring of the 
 reality, let others, who know, say, — to sanction it. — iii. 469. 
 
 IS PROPERTY THE SECURITY FOR ATTACHMENT 
 TO COUNTRY? 
 
 Property, it is continually said, is the only bond and pledge of 
 attachment to country. — Not it, indeed. Want of property is a 
 much stronger one. He who has property can change the shape 
 of it, and carry it with him to another country, whenever he 
 pleases : he who has no property, can do no such thing. In the 
 eyes of those who live by the labour of others, the existence of 
 those by whose labour they live, is Indeed of no value : not so in 
 the eyes of the labourers themselves. Life is not worth more to 
 yawners than to labourers: and their own country is the only 
 country in which the latter can so much as hope to live. Among 
 a hundred of them, not ten exceptions to this will you find. — 
 iii. 560. 
 
 WHAT IS NATURAL LIBERTY 7 
 
 To say that a law is contrary to natural liberty, is simply to 
 say that it is a law ; for every law is established at the expense 
 
84 FRENCH DECLARATION OF RIGHTS. 
 
 of liberty— the liberty of Peter at the expense of the liberty of 
 Paul. 
 
 When a law is reproached as hurtful to liberty, the Inconveni- 
 ence is not a particular ground of complaint against that law— it 
 is shared by all laws. The evil which it causes in this manner — 
 is it greater than the good which it does in other ways ) This is 
 the only question to be examined. — iii. 185. 
 
 SPECIMENS OP A CRITICISM ON THE FRENCH 
 DECLARATION OF RIGHTS.* 
 
 Article I. — Men [all men] are born and remain. free, and 
 equal in respect of rights. Social distinctions cannot he 
 founded, but upon common utility. 
 
 In this article are contained, grammatically speaking, two dis- 
 tinct sentences. The first is full of error, the other of ambiguity. 
 
 In the first are contained four distinguishable propositions, all 
 of them false — all of them notoriously and undeniably false :-t- 
 
 1. That all men are born free. 
 
 2. That all men remain free. 
 
 3. That all men are born equal in rights. 
 
 4. That all men remain (i. e. remain for ever, for the proposi- 
 tion is indefinite and unlimited) equal in rights. 
 
 Ml men are born free? .Oilmen remain free? No, not a single 
 mari : not a single man that ever was, or is, or will be. All men, 
 on the contrary, are born in subjection, and the most absolute 
 subjection — the subjection of a helpless child to the parents on 
 whom he depends every moment for his existence. In this sub- 
 jection every man is born — in this subjection he continues for 
 years — for a great number of years — and the existence of the 
 individual and of the species depends upon his so doing. 
 
 What is the state of things to which the supposed existence of 
 these supposed rights is meant to bear reference? — a state of 
 things prior to the existence of government, or a state of things 
 subsequent to the existence of government ? If to a state prior to 
 the existence of government, what would the existence of such 
 rights as these be to the purpose, even if it were true, in any 
 country where there is such a thing as government 1 If to a state 
 of things subsequent to the formation of government — if in a 
 
 * The "Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen," decreed in 
 the Constituent Assembly in 1791. 
 
ANARCHICAL FALLACIES. 85 
 
 country where there is a government, in what single instance^- 
 in the instance of what single government, is it true J Setting 
 aside the case of parent and child, let any man name that single 
 government under which any such equality is recognised. 
 
 All men born freel Absurd and miserable nonsense ! When 
 the great complaint — a complaint made perhaps by the very 
 same people at the same time, is — that so many men are born 
 slaves. Oh ! but when we acknowledge them to be born slaves, 
 we refer to the laws in being ; which laws being void, as being 
 contrary to those laws of nature which are the efficient causes of 
 those rights of man that we are declaring, the men in question 
 are free in one sense, though slaves in another ; — slaves, and free, 
 at the same time: — free in respect of the laws of nature— slaves 
 in respect of the pretended human laws, which, though called 
 laws, are no laws at all, as being contrary to the laws of nature. 
 For such is the difference— the great and perpetual difference, 
 betwixt the good subject, the rational censor of the laws, and the 
 anarchist— between the moderate man and the man of violence. 
 The rational censor, acknowledging the existence of the law he 
 disapproves, proposes the repeal of it : the anarchist, setting up 
 his will and fancy for a law before which all mankind are called 
 upon to bow down at the first word — the anarchist, trampling 
 on truth and decency, denies the validity of the law in question, 
 — denies the existence of it in the character of a law, and calls 
 upon all mankind to rise up in a mass, and resist the execution 
 of it. 
 
 Whatever is, is, — was the maxim of Des-Cartes, who looked 
 upon it as so sure, as well as so instructive a truth, that every 
 thing else which goes by the name of truth might be deduced 
 from it. The philosophical vortex-maker — who, however mis- 
 taken in his philosophy and his logic, was harmless enough at 
 least — the manufacturer of identical propositions and celestial 
 vortices— little thought how soon a part of his own countrymen, 
 fraught with pretensions as empty as his own, and as mischievous 
 as his were innocent, would contest with him even this his 
 favourite and fundamental maxim, by which every thing else was 
 to be brought to light. Whatever is, is not — is the maxim of the 
 anarchist, as often as any thing comes across him in the shape of 
 a law which he happens not to like. 
 
 " Cruel is the judge," says Lord Bacon, " who, in order to en- 
 able himself to torture men, applies torture to the law." Still 
 more cruel is the anarchist, who, for the purpose of effecting the 
 subversion of the laws themselves, as well a& the massacre of the 
 8 
 
86 FRENCH DECLARATION OF RIGHTS. 
 
 legislators, tortures not only the words of the law, but the very- 
 vitals of the language. 
 
 All men are born equal in rights. The rights of the heir of 
 the most indigent family equal to the rights of the heir of the 
 most wealthy? In what case is this true? I say nothing of 
 hereditary dignities and powers. Inequalities such as these 
 being proscribed under and by the French government in France, 
 are consequently proscribed by that government under every 
 other government, and consequently have no existence any- 
 where. For the total subjection of every other government to 
 French government, is a fundamental principle in the law of 
 universal independence — the French law. Yet neither was this 
 true at the time of issuing this Declaration of Bights, nor was it 
 meant to be so afterwards. The 13th article, which we shall 
 come to in its place, proceeds on the contrary supposition: for, 
 considering its other attributes inconsistency could not be want- 
 ing to the list. It can scarcely be more hostile to all other laws 
 than it is at variance with itself. 
 
 Jill men (i. e. all human creatures of both sexes) remain equal 
 in rights. All men, meaning doubtless all human creatures. The 
 apprentice, then, is equal in rights to his master; he has as much 
 liberty with relation to the master, as l,he master has with rela- 
 tion to him; he has as much right to command and to punish 
 him; he is as much owner and master of the master's house, as 
 the master himself. The case is the same as between ward and 
 guardian. So again as between wife and husband. The mad- 
 man has a good right to confine any body else, as any body else 
 has to confine him. The idiot has as much right to govern every 
 body, as any body can have to govern him. The physician and 
 the nurse, when called in by the next friend of a sick man seized 
 with a delirium, have no more right to prevent his throwing him- 
 self out of the window, than he has to throw them out of it. All 
 this is plainly and incontestably included in this article of the 
 Declaration of Rights: in the very words of it, and in the meaning 
 — if it have any meaning. Was this the meaning of the authors 
 of it?-^or did they mean to admit this explanation as to some of 
 the instances, and to explain the article away as to the rest? 
 Not being idiots, nor lunatics, nor under a delirium, they would 
 explain it away with regard to the madman, and the man under 
 a delirium. Considering that a child may become an orphan 
 as sooTi as it has seen the light, and that in that case, if not 
 subject to government, it> must perish, they wogld explain it 
 away, I thinb, and contradict themselves, in the case of guardian 
 
ANARCHICAL PALLAClEa. 87 
 
 and ward. In the case of master and apprentice, I would not 
 take upon me to decide : it may have been their meaning to 
 proscribe that relation altogether; — at least, this may have been 
 the case, as soon as the repugnancy between that institution and 
 this oracle was pointed out; forthe professed object and destination 
 of it is to be the standard of truth and falsehood, of right and 
 wrong in every thing that relates to government. But to this 
 standard, and to this article of it, the subjection of the apprentice 
 to the master is flatly and diametrically repugnant. If it do not 
 proscribe and exclude this inequality, it proscribes none : if it do 
 not do this mischief, it does nothing. 
 
 So, again, in the case of husband and wife. Amongst the 
 other abuses which the auricle was meant to put an end to, 
 may, for aught I can pretend to say, have been the institution of 
 marriage. For what is the subjection of a small and limited 
 number of years, in comparison with the subjection of a whole 
 life] Yet without subjection and inequality, no such institution 
 can by any possibility take place ; for of two contradictory wills, 
 both cannot take effect at the same time. 
 
 The same doubts apply to the case of master and hired ser- 
 vant. Better a man should starve than hire himself; — better 
 half the species starve, than hire itself out to ser vipe. For, where 
 is the compatibility between liberty and servitude? How can 
 liberty and servitude subsist in the same person 1 What good 
 citizen is there, that would hesitate to die for liberty 1 And, as 
 to those who are not good citizens, what matters it whether they 
 live or starve "! Besides that every man who lives under this 
 constitution being equal in rights, equal in all sorts of rights, is 
 equal in respect to rights of property. No man, therefore, 
 can be in any danger of starving — no man can have so much as 
 that motive, weak and inadequate as it is, for hiring himself out 
 to service. 
 
 Sentence 2. Sonal dislincHon^ cannot be founded but upon 
 common utility. — This proposition has two or three meanings. 
 According to one of them, the proposition is notoriously false : 
 according to another, it is in contradiction to the four proposi- 
 tions that preceded it in the same sentence. 
 
 What is meant by social distinctions? what is meant by can? 
 what is meant hy founded P 
 
 What is meant by sodal distinctions? — Distinctions not re- 
 specting equality 1 — then these are nothing to the purpose. Dis- 
 tinctions in respect of equality ? — then, consistently with the pre- 
 ceding propositions in this same article, they can have no exls- 
 
88 FRENCH DECLARATION OF RIGHTS. 
 
 tence: not existing, they cannot be founded upon any thing. 
 The distinctions above exemplified, are they in the number of 
 the social distinctions here intended t Not one of them (as we 
 have been seeing) but has subjection-^no't one of them but has 
 inequality for its very essence. 
 
 What is meant by can—" can not be founded but upon com- 
 mon utility'!" Is it meant to speak of what is established, or 
 of what ought to be establishedp Does it mean that no social 
 distinctions, but those which it approves as having the founda- 
 tion in question, are established any where ? or simply that none 
 such ought to be established any where ■! or that if the establish- 
 ment or maintenance of such dispositions by the laws be at- 
 tempted any where, such laws ought to be treated as void, and 
 the attempt to execute them to be resisted 1 For such is the 
 venom that lurks urider such words as ran and can not, when 
 set up as a check upon the laws, — they contain all these three 
 so perfectly distinct and widely different meanings. In the first, 
 the proposition they are inserted into refers to practice, and 
 makes appeal to observation — to the observation of other men, 
 in regard to a matter of fact : in the second, it is an appeal to 
 the approving faculty of others, in regard to the same matter of 
 fact : in the third, it is no appeal to any thing, or to any body, 
 but a violent attempt upon the hberty of speech and action on 
 the part of others, by the terrors of anarchical despotism, rising 
 up in opposition to the laws : it is an attempt to lift the dagger of 
 the assassin against all individuals who presume to hold an opi- 
 nion different from that of the orator or the writer, and against 
 all governments which presume to support any such individuals 
 in any such presumption. In the first of these imports, the pro- 
 position is perfectly harmless: but it is commonly so untrue,' so 
 glaringly untrue, so palpably untrue, even to drivelling, that it 
 must be plain to every body it can never have been the meaning 
 that was intended. 
 
 In the second of these imports, the proposition may be true or 
 not, as it may happen, and at any rate is equally innocent : but 
 it is such as will not answer the purpose ; for an opinion that leaves 
 others at liberty to be of a contrary one, will never answer the 
 purpose of the passions: and if this had been the meaning in- 
 tended, not this ambiguous phraseology, but a clear and simple 
 one, presenting this meaning and no other, would have been em- 
 ployed. The third, which may not improperly be termed the 
 ruffian-like or threatening import, is the meaning intended to be 
 presented to the weak and timid, while the two innocent ones, of 
 which one may even be reasonable, are held up before it as a veil 
 
ANARCHICAL FALLACIES. 89 
 
 to blind the eyes of the discerning reader, and screen from him 
 the mischief that lurks beneath. 
 
 Can and can not, when thus applied — can and can not, when 
 used instead of ought and ought not — c««_ and can not, when 
 applied to the binding force and effect of laws — not of the acts 
 of individuals, nor yet of the acts of subordinate authority, but 
 of the acts of the supreme government itself) are the disguised 
 cant of the assassin : after them there is nothing but do him, be- , 
 twixt the preparation for murder and the attempt. They re- 
 semble that instrument which in outward appearance is but an 
 ordinary staff, but which within that simple and innocent sem- 
 blance conceals a dagger. These are the words that speak dag- 
 gers — if daggers can be spoken ; they speak daggers, and there 
 remains nothing but to use them. 
 
 Look where I will, I see but too many laws, the alteration or 
 abolition of which would, in my poor judgment, be a public bless- 
 ing. I can conceive some, — to put extreme and scarcely exam- 
 pled cases, — to which I might be inclined to oppose resistance, 
 with a prospect of support such as promised to be effectual. But 
 ' to talk of what the law, the supreme legislature of the country, 
 acknov/ledged as such, can not do ! — to talk of a void law as you 
 would of a void order or a void judgment ! — The very act of 
 bringing such words into conjunction is either the vilest of non- 
 sense, or the worst of treasons : — treason, not against one branch 
 of the sovereignty, but against the whole : treason, not against 
 this or that government, but against all governments. 
 
 Article II. — The end in view of every political association is 
 tthe prei>erualion of the natural and imprescriptible rights of 
 man. These rights are liberty, property, security, and resist- 
 ance to oppression. 
 
 Sentence 1. The end in view of every political association, is 
 the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man. 
 
 More confusion — more nonsense, — and the nonsense, as usual, 
 dangerous nonsense. The words can scarcely be said to have 
 a meaning : but if they have, or rather if they had a meaning, 
 these would be the propositions either asserted or implied : — 
 
 1. That there are such things as rights anterior to the esta- 
 blishment of governments : for natural, as applied to rights, if it 
 mean any thing, is meant to stand in opposition to legal — to , 
 such rights as are acknowledged to owe their existence to go- 
 vernment, and are consequently posterior in their date to the es- 
 tablishment of government. 
 
 2. That these rights can not be abrogated by government; for 
 
 8* 
 
90 FRENCH DECLARATION OP RIGHTS. 
 
 can not is Implied in the form of the word imprescriptible, and 
 the sense it wears when so applied, is the cut-throat sense above 
 explained. 
 
 3. That the governments that exist derive their origin from 
 formal associations, or what are now called conventions: associa- 
 tions entered into by a partnership contract, with all the mem- 
 bers for partners, — entered into at a day prefixed, for a prede- 
 termined purpose, the formation of a new government where 
 there was none before (for as to formal meetings holden under 
 the control of an existing government, they are evidently out of 
 question here) in which it seems again to be implied in the way 
 of inference, though a necessary and unavoidable inference, 
 that all governments, (that is, self called governments, knots of 
 persons exercising the powers of government) that have had any 
 other origin than an association of the above description, are il- 
 legal, that is, no governments at all ; resistance, to them, and sub- 
 version of them, lawful and commendable ; and so on. 
 
 Such are the notions implied in this first part of the article. 
 How stands the truth of things'! That there are no such things 
 as natural rights — no such thing as rights anterior to the esta- 
 blishment of government — no such things as natural rights op- 
 posed to, in contradistinction to legal : that the expression is 
 merely figurative ; that when used, in the moment you attempt 
 to give it a literal meaning, it leads to error, and to that sort of 
 error that leads to mischief — to the extremity of mischief 
 
 We know what it is for men to live without government — and 
 living without government to live without rights : we know what 
 it is for men to live without government, for we see instances 
 of such a way of life — we see it in many savage nations, or ra- 
 ther races of mankind ; for instance, among the savages of New 
 ■ South Wales, whose way of living is so well known to us : no 
 habit of obedience, and thence rio government — no government, 
 and thence no laws, — no laws, and thence no such things as 
 rights — no security — no property; liberty, as against regular 
 control, the control of laws and government — perfect ; but as 
 against all irregular control, the mandates of stronger indivi- 
 duals, none. In this state, at a time earlier than the commence- 
 ment of history— in this same state, judging from analogy, we, 
 the inhabitants of the part of the globe we call Europe, were ; — 
 no government, consequently no rights : no rights, consequently 
 no property — no legal security — no legal liberty : security not 
 more than belongs to beasts — forecast and sense of insecurity 
 keener — consequently in point of happiness below the level of 
 the brutal race. 
 
ANARCHICAL FALLACIES. 91 
 
 In proportion to the want of happiness resulting from the want 
 of rights, a reason exists for wishing that there were such things 
 as rights. But" reasons for wishing there were such things as 
 rights, are not rights; — a reason for wishing that a certain 
 right were established, is not that right — want is not supply — 
 hunger is not bread. 
 
 That which has no existence cannot be destroyed — that which 
 cannot be destroyed cannot require any thing to preserve it from 
 destruction. Natural rights is simple nonsense: ngtural and 
 imprescriptible rights, rhetorical nonsense, — nonsense upon Stilts. 
 But this rhetorical nonsense ends in the old strain of mischievous 
 nonsense : for immediately a list of these pretended natural rights 
 is given, and those are so expressed as to present to view legal 
 rights. And of these rights, whatever they are, there is not, it 
 seems, any one of which any government can, upon any occa- 
 sion whatever, abrogate the smallest particle. 
 
 So much for terrorist language. What is the language of 
 reason and plain sense upon this same subject 1 Tiiat in propor- 
 tion as it is right or proper, i. e. advantageous to the society in 
 question, that this or that right — a right to this or that effect — 
 should be established and maintained, in that same proportion it 
 is wrong that it should be abrogated:' but, that as there is no 
 right, which ought not to be maintained so long as it is upon the 
 whole advantageous to society that it should be maintained, 
 so there is no right which, when the abolition of it is advan- 
 tageous to society, should not be abolished. To know whether 
 it would be more for the advantage of society that this or that 
 right should be maintained or abolished, the time at which the 
 question about maintaining or abolishing is proposed, must be 
 given, and the circumstances under which it is proposed to 
 maintain or abolish it; the right itself must be specifically de- 
 scribed, not jumbled with an undistinguishable heap of others, 
 under any such vague general terms as property, liberty, and the 
 like. 
 
 One thing, in the midst of all this confusion, is but too plain. 
 They know not of what they are talking under the name of natu- 
 ral rights, and yet they would have them imprescriptible — 
 proof against all the power of the laws — pregnant with occasions 
 summoning the members of the community to rise up in resis- 
 tance against the laws. What, then, was their object in declaring 
 the existence of imprescriptible rights, and without specifying a 
 single one by any such mark as it could be known by ■? This, and 
 no other; — to excite and keep up a spirit of resistance to all laws — 
 a spirit of insurrection against all governments — against the go- 
 
93 FRENCH DECLARATION OF RIGHTS. 
 
 vernmeiits of all other nations instantly, — against the govern- 
 ment of their own nation — against the government they them- 
 selves were pretending to establish — even that, as soon as their 
 own reign should be at an end. In us is the perfection of virtue 
 and wisdom: in all mankind besides, the extremity of wickedness 
 and folly. Our will shall consequently reign without control, 
 and for ever: reign now, we are living — reign after we are dead. 
 
 All nations — all future ages — shall be, for they are predes- 
 tined to bf , our slaves. 
 
 Future governments will not have honesty enough to be 
 trusted with the determination of what rights shall be main- 
 tained, what abrogated — what laws kept in force, what repealed. 
 Future subjects (I should say future citizens, fbr French go- 
 vernment does not admit of subjects) will not have wit enough 
 to be trusted with the choice whether to submit to the deter- 
 mination of the government of their time, or to resist it. Go- 
 verments, citizens — all to the end of time — all must be kept in 
 chains. 
 
 Such are their maxims — such their premises: for it is by such 
 premises only that the doctrine of imprescriptible rights and un^ 
 repealable laws can be, supported. 
 
 What is the real source of these imprescriptible rights — these 
 unrepealable laws? Power turned blind by looking from its 
 own height: self-conceit and tyranny exalted into insanity. No 
 man was to have any other man for a servant, yet all men were 
 for ever to be their slaves. Making laws with imposture in 
 their mouths, under pretence of declaring therp — giving for 
 laws any thing that came uppermost, and these unrepealable 
 ones, on pretence of finding them ready made. Made by what? 
 Not by God — they allow of none; but by their goddess, Nature. 
 
 The origination of governments from a contract is a pure fic- 
 tion, or, in other words, a falsehood. It never has been known 
 to be true in any instance; the allegation of it does mischief, by 
 involving the subject in error and confusion, and is neither ne- 
 cessary nor useful to any good purpose. 
 
 All governments that we have any account of have been 
 gradually establishet) by habit, after having been formed by 
 force; unless in the instance of governments formed by indivi- 
 duals who have been emancipated, or have emancipated them- 
 selves from governments already formed, the governments under 
 which they were born — a rare case, and from which nothing fol- 
 lows with regard to the rest. What signifies it how governments 
 are formed? Is it the less proper — the less conducive to the happi- 
 ness of society— that the happiness of society should be the one 
 
ANARCHICAL FALLACIES. 93 
 
 object kept in view by the members of the government in all 
 their measures 1 Is it the less the interest of men to be happy — 
 less to be wished that they may be so — less the moral duty of 
 their governors to make them so, so far as they can, at Maga- 
 dore than at Philadelphia? 
 
 Whence is it, but from government, that contracts derive their 
 binding force l Contracts came from government, not govern- 
 ment from contracts. It is from the habit of enforcing contracts, 
 and seeing them enforced, that governments are chiefly indebted 
 for whatever disposition they have to observe them. 
 
 Sentence 2. These rights, [these imprescriptible as well as 
 natural rights,] are liberty, property, security} and resistance to 
 oppression. 
 
 Observe the extent of these pretended rights, each of them 
 belonging to every man, and all of them without bounds. Un- 
 bounded liberty; that is, amongst other things, the liberty of 
 doing or not doing on every occasion whatever each man pleases ; 
 — Unbounded property ; that is, the right of doing with every 
 thing around him, (with every thing at least, if not with every 
 person,) whatsoever he pleases; communicating that right to 
 any body, and withholding it from any body : — Unbounded se- 
 curity ; that is, security for such his liberty, for such his property, 
 and for his person, against every defalcation that can be called 
 for on any account in respect of any of them : — Unbounded re- 
 sistance to oppression ; that is, unbounded exercise of the faculty 
 of guarding himself against whatever unpleasant circumstance 
 may present itself to his imagination or his passions under that 
 name. Nature, say some of the interpreters of the pretended 
 law of nature — nature gave to each man a right to every thing ; 
 which is, in eflFect, but another way of saying — nature has given 
 no such right to any body ; for in regard to most rights, it is as . 
 true that what is every man's right is no man's right, as that 
 what is every man's business is no man's business. Nature 
 gave — gave to every man aright to every thing : — be it so — true ; 
 and hence the necessity of human government and human laws, 
 to give to every man his own right, without which no right 
 whatsoever would amount to any thing. Nature gave every man 
 a right to every thing before the existence of laws, and in default 
 of laws. This nominal universality and real nonentity of right, 
 set up provisionally by nature in default of laws, the French 
 oracle lays hold of, and perpetuates it under the law and in spite 
 of laws. These anarchical rights which nature had set out with . 
 democratic art attempts to rivet down, and declares indefeasi- 
 ble. 
 
94 FRENCH DECLARATION OF RIGHTS. 
 
 Unbounded liberty— I must still say unbounded liberty; — for 
 though the next article but one returns to the charge, and gives 
 such a definition of liberty as seems intended to set bounds to it, 
 yetinefieet the limitation amounts to nothing; and when, as 
 here, no warning is given of any exception in the texture of the 
 general rule, every exception which turns up is, not a confirma- 
 tion but a contradiction of the rule:— liberty, without any pre- 
 announced or intelligible bounds ; and as to the other rights, they 
 remain unbounded to the end : rights of man composed of a sys- 
 tem of contradictions and impossibilities. 
 
 In vain would it be said, that though no bounds are here as- 
 signed to any of these rights, yet it is to be understood as taken 
 for granted, and tacitly admitted and assumed, that they are to 
 have bounds; viz., such bounds as it is understood will be set 
 them by the laws. Vain, I say, would be this apology ; for the 
 supposition would be contradictory to the express declaration of 
 the article itself, and would defeat the very object which the 
 whole declaration has in view. It would be self contradictory, 
 because these rights are, in the same breath in which their ex- 
 istence is declared, declared to be imprescriptible; and impre- 
 scriptible, or, as we in England should say, indefeasible means 
 nothing unless it exclude the interference of the laws. 
 
 It would be not only inconsistent with itself, but inconsistent 
 with the declared and sole object of the declaration, if it did not 
 "exclude the interference of the laws. It is against the laws them- 
 selves, and the laws only, that this declaration is levelled. It is 
 for the hands of the legislator, and all legislators, and none but 
 legislators, that the shackles it provides are intended, — it is against 
 the apprehended encroachments of legislators, that the rights in 
 question, the liberty and property, and so forth, are intended to 
 be made secure, — it is to such encroachments, and damages, and 
 dangers, that whatever security it professes to give has respect. 
 Precious security for unbounded rights against legislators, if the 
 extent of those rights in every direction were purposely left to 
 depend upon the will and pleasure of those Yery legislators ! 
 
 Nonsensical or nugatory, and in both cases mischievous: such 
 is the alternative. 
 
 So much for all these pretended indefeasible rights in the 
 lump: their inconsistency with each other, as well as the incon- 
 sistency of them in the character of indefeasible rights with the 
 existence of government and all peaceable society, will appear 
 still more plainly when we examine them one by one. 
 
 1. Liberty, then, is imprescriptible — incapable of being taken 
 
ANARCHICAL TALLACIEa. 95 
 
 away — out of the power of airy government ever to take away: 
 liberty,— that is,' every branch of liberty — every individual 
 exercise of liberty; for no line ia drawn — no distinction — no 
 exception made. What these instructors as well as governors 
 of mankind a:ppear not to know, is, that all rights are' made at 
 the expense of liberty — all laws by which rights^are created or 
 confirmed. No right without a correspondent obligation. 
 Liberty, as against the coercion of the law, it is true,T)e given 
 by the simple removal of the obligation by which that coercion 
 was applied — by the simple repeal of the coercing law. But as 
 against tlje coercion applicable by inefi-vidtral to individual, no 
 liberty can be given to one man but in proportion as it is taken 
 from another. All coercive laws, therefore, (that is, all laws 
 but constitutional laws, and laws repealing or modifying coercive 
 laws,) and in particular all laws creative of liberty,' are, as far as 
 they go, abrogative of liberty. Not here and there a law only 
 — not this or that possible law, but almost all laws,are therefore 
 repugnant to these natural and imprescriptible rights: conse- 
 quently null and void, calling for resistance and insurrection, 
 and so on, as before. 
 
 Laws creative of rights of property are' also' struck at by the 
 same anath-ema. How is property given? By restraining liberty, 
 that is, by taking it away so far as is necessary for the purpose. 
 How is your house made yours? By debarring every one else 
 from the liberty of entering it without your leave. But, 
 
 2.- Properly. Property stands second on the list, — proprietary 
 rights are in the number of the natural and im'p'rescriptible rights 
 of mctn'— t)f the rights which a man is not indebted for to the 
 laws, and- which cannot be taken from him by the laws. Men — 
 that is-, every nran (for a general expression given' without excep- 
 tion is a irniversal one) has a right to property, to proprietary 
 rights, a right which cannot be taken avv^ay from him by the laws. 
 To proprietary rights. Good: but in relation to what subject? 
 for as lb praprietary rrgbts— '^yithout a subject to which they are 
 referable — without a s-ublect in- or in relation to which they can 
 be ex-ercised — they will hardly be of much value, they will hardly 
 be worth taking care of, with so much solemnity. In vain would 
 all the laws in the world have as.certained that I have a right to 
 something. If this be all they have done for me-^if there be no 
 specific subject in relation to which my proprietary rights are 
 established, I must either take what I want without right, or 
 starve. As there'is no' such subject specified with relation to each 
 man, or to any map, (indeed how could there be?) the necessary 
 inference' (taking thre passage literally) is, that every man has all 
 
96 FRENCH DECLARATION OF RIGHTS. 
 
 manner of proprietary rights with relation to every subject of 
 property without exception : in a word, that every man has a 
 right to every thing. Unfortunately, in most matters of property, 
 what is every man's right is no man's right ; so that the effect of 
 this part of the oracle, if observed, would be, not to establish 
 "property, but to extinguish it — to render it impossible ever to 
 be revived : and this is one of the rights declared to be impre- 
 scriptible. 
 
 It will probably be acknowledged that, according to this con- 
 struction, the clause in question is equally ruinous and absurd: 
 — and hence the inference may be, that this was not the con- 
 struction---this was not the meaning in view. But by the same 
 rule, every possible construction which the words employed can 
 admit of, might be proved not to have been the meaning in view : 
 nor is this clause a whit more absurd or ruinous than all that 
 goes before it, and a great deal of what comes after it. And, in 
 short, if this be not the meaning of it, what isl Gi*e it a sense — 
 give it any sense whatever, — it is mischievous : — to save it from 
 that impiitation, there is but one course to take, which is to ac- 
 knowledge it to be nonsense. 
 
 Thus much would be clear, if any thing were clear in it, that 
 according to this clause, whatever proprietary rights, whatever 
 property a man once has, no matter how, being imprescriptible, 
 can never be taken away from him by any law ; or of what use 
 or meaning is the clause ■! So that the moment it is acknowledged 
 in relation to any article, that such article is my property, no 
 matter how or when it became so, that moment it is acknow- 
 ledged that it can never be taken away from me: therefore, for 
 example, all laws and all judgments, whereby any thing is taken 
 away from me without my free consent — all taxes, for example, 
 and all fines — are void, and, as such, call for resistance and in- 
 surrection, and so forth, as before. 
 
 3. Security. Security stands the third on the list of these natu- 
 ral and imprescriptible rights which laws did not give, and which 
 laws are not in any degree to be suffered to take away. Under 
 the head of security, liberty might have been included ; so like- 
 wise propei-ty : since security for liberty, or the enjoyment of 
 liberty, may be spoken of as a branch of security : — security for 
 property, or the enjoyment of proprietary i-ights, as another. 
 Security for person is the brancl^ that seems here to have been 
 understood : — security for each mpn's person, as against all those 
 hurtful or disagreeable impressions (exclusive of those which con- 
 sist in the mere disturbance of the enjoyment of liberty,) by which 
 a man is affected in his person ; loss of life — loss of limbs — loss of 
 
ANARCHICAL FALLACIES. 97 
 
 the use of limbs — wounds, bruises, and the like. All laws are 
 nuU and void, then, which on any account, or in any manner 
 ' seek ta expose the person of any man to any risk — which appoint 
 capital or other corporal punishment — which expose a man to 
 personal hazard in the service of the military power against 
 foreign enemies, or in that of the judicial power against delin- 
 quents: all laws which, to preserve the country from pestilence, 
 authorize the immediate execution of a suspected person, in the 
 event of his transgressing certain bounds. 
 
 4. Resistance to oppression. Fourth and last in the list of na- 
 tural and imprescriptible rights, resistance to oppression — mean- 
 ing, I suppose, the right to resist oppression. What is oppres- 
 sion? Power misapplied to the prejudice of some individual. 
 What is it that a man has in view when he speaks of oppression? 
 Some exertion ofpower'which he looks upon as misapplied to the 
 prejudice of some individual — to the producing on the part of 
 such individual some suffering, to which (whether as forbidden 
 by the law or otherwise) we conceive he ought not to have been 
 subjected. But against every thing that can come under the 
 name of oppression, provision has been already made, in the 
 manner we have seen, by the recognition of the three preceding 
 rights ; since no oppression can fall upon a man, which is not an 
 infringement of his rights in relation to liberty, rights in relation 
 to property, or rights in relation to security, as above described. 
 Where, then, is the difference ? — to what purpose this fourth 
 clause after the first three 1 To this purpose: the mischief they 
 seek to prevent, the rights they seek to establish, are the same, 
 the difference lies in the natulre of the remedy endeavoured to 
 be applied. To prevent the mischief in question, the endeavour 
 of the three former clauses is, to tie the hand of the legislator and 
 his subordinates by the fear of nullity, and the remote appre- 
 hension of general resistance and insurrection. The aim of this 
 fourth clause is, to raise the hand of the individual concerned, to 
 prevent the apprehended infraction of his rights at the moment 
 when he looks upon it as about to take place. 
 
 Whenever you are about to be oppressed, you have a right to 
 resist oppression : whenever you conceive yourself to be oppressed, 
 conceive j'ourself to have a right to make resistance, and act ac- 
 cordingly. In proportion as a law of any kind, — any act of 
 power, supreme or subordinate, legislative, administrative, or ju- 
 dicial, — is unpleasant to a man, especially if, in consideration of 
 such its unpleasantness, his opinion is, that such act df power 
 ought not to have been exercised, he of course looks^ upon it as 
 9 
 
98 FRENCH DECLARATION OP RIGHTS. 
 
 oppression : as often as any thing of this sort happens to a man — 
 as often as any thing happens to a man to inflame his passions, — 
 this article, for fear his passions should not be sufficiently in- 
 flamed of themselves, sets itself to work to blow the flame, and 
 urges him to resistance. Submit not to any decree or other act 
 of power, of the justice of which you are not yourself perfectly 
 convinced. If a constable call upon you to serve in the militia, 
 shoot the constable and not the enemy ; if the commander of a 
 press-gang trouble you, push him into the sea — if a bailiff, throw 
 him out of the window. If a judge sentence you to be imprisoned 
 or put to death, have a dagger ready, and take a stroke first at 
 the judge., — ii. 497-504. 
 
 Article IV. — Liberty consists in being able to do that which 
 is not hurtful to another, and therefore the exercise of the na- 
 tural rights of each man has no ot tier bounds than those which 
 ensure to the other members of the society the enjoyment of the 
 same rights. These bounds cannot be determinedbut by law. 
 
 In this article, three propositions are included : — 
 Proposition 1. Liberty consists in being able to do that which 
 is not hurtful to another. What! in that, and nothing else 7 
 Is not the liberty of doing mischief liberty 1 If not, what is it ? 
 and what word is there for it in the language, or in any language 
 by which it can be spoken of? How childish, how repugnant 
 to the ends of language, is this perversion of language ! — to at- 
 tempt to confine a word in common and perpetual use, to an im- 
 port to which nobody ever confined it before, or will continue to 
 confine it ! And so I am never to know whether I am at liberty 
 or not to do, or to omit doing one act, till I see whether or no 
 there is any body that may be hurt by it — till I see the whole 
 extent of all its consequences] Liberty! what liberty 7 — as 
 against what power 1 as against coercion from what source 1 
 As against coercion issuing irom the law ? — then, to know whe- 
 ther the law have left me at liberty in any respect in relation to 
 any act, I am to consult, not the words of the law, but my own 
 conception of what would be the consequences of the act. If among 
 these consequences there be a .single one by which any body would 
 be hurt, then, whatever the law says to me about it, I am not at 
 liberty to do it. I am an officer of justice, appointed to superintend 
 the execution of punishments ordered by justice: if lam ordered 
 to cause a thief to be whipped, — to know whether I am at liberty 
 to cause the sentence to be executed, I must know whether whip- 
 ping would hurt the thief: if it would, then I am not at liberty to 
 
ANARCHICAL FALLACIES. , 99 
 
 whip the thief — to inflict the punishment which it is ray duty 
 to inflict. 
 
 Proposition 2. And therefore the exercise of the natural 
 rights of each man has no other bounds than those which ensure 
 to the other members of the society the enjoyment of those 
 same rights. Has no other bounds ] Where is it that it has 
 no other bounds ? In what nation, — under what government 1 
 If under any government, then the state of legislation under that 
 government is in a state of absolute perfection. If there be no 
 such government, then, by a confession necessarily implied, 
 there is no nation upon earth in which this definition is con- 
 formable to the truth. 
 
 Proposition 3. These bounds cannot be determined but by the 
 law. More contradiction, more confusion. What then 1 — this 
 liberty, this right, — which is one of four rights that existed be- 
 fore jaws, and will exist in spite of all that laws can do, — owes 
 all the boundaries it has, all the extent it has, to the laws. Till 
 you know what the laws say to it, you do not know what there 
 is of it, nor what account to give of it, and yet it existed, and 
 that in full force and vigour, before there were any such things 
 as laws; and so will continue to exist, and that for ever, in spite 
 of any thing which laws can do to it. Still the same inaptitude 
 of expressions — still the same confusion of that which it is sup- 
 posed is, with that which it is conceived ought to be. 
 
 What says plain truth upon this subject 1 What is the sense 
 most approaching to nonsense 1 
 
 The liberty which the law ought to allow of, and leave in ex- 
 istence, — leave uncoerced, unremoved, — is the liberty which 
 concerns those acts only, by which, if exercised, no damage 
 would be done to the community upon the whole; that is, either 
 no damage at all, or none but what promises to be compensated 
 by at least equal benefit 
 
 Accordingly, the exercise of the rights allowed to and con- 
 ferred upon each individual, ought to have no. other bounds set 
 to it by the law, than those which are necessary to enable it to 
 maintain every other individual in the possession and exercise 
 of such rights as it is consisterit with the greatest good of the 
 community that he should be allowed. The marking out of 
 these bounds ought not to be left to any body but the legislator 
 acting as such — that is to him or them who are acknowledged 
 to be in possession of the sovereign power: that is, it ought not 
 to be left to the occasional and arbitrary declaration of any in- 
 dividual, whatever share he may possess of subordinate autho- 
 rity. 
 
.100 FRENCH DECtARATION OF RIGHTS. 
 
 Tiie word autrui — another, is so loose, making no distinction 
 tetween the community and individuals, — as, according to the 
 most natural construction, to deprive succeeding legislators of 
 /all power of repressing, by punishment or otherwise, any acts 
 by which no individual sufferers sre to be found; and to deprive 
 them beyond a doubt of all power of affording protection to any 
 man, woman, or child, against his or her own weakness, igno- 
 rance or imprudence. 
 
 AjBTiCLE V. — 77(6 law has no right to forbid any other ac- 
 tions than such as are hvrlful to society. Whatever is not for- 
 bidden by the law, cannot be hindered; nor can any individual 
 be compelled to do that which the law does not command. 
 
 Sentence 1. The law has po right [rCa le droit) to forbid any 
 other action^ than guch as are hurtful to society. The law has 
 no right {n'a le droit, not nepeut pas.) This, for once, is free 
 from ambiguity. Here the mask of ambiguity is thrown off. 
 The avoved object of this clause is to preach constant insurrec- 
 tion, to raise up every man in arms against e .'ery law which he 
 happens not to approve of. For, take any such action you will, 
 if the law have no right to forbid it, a law forbidding it is null 
 and void, -and the attempt to execute it an oppression, and resis- 
 itance to such attempt, and insurrection in support of such resis- 
 tance, legal, justifiable, and commendable. 
 
 To have said that no law ought to forbid any act that is not 
 of a nature prejudicial to society, would have answered every 
 good purpose, but would not have answered the purpose which 
 is intended to be answered here. 
 
 A government which should fulfil the expectations here held 
 out, would be a government of absolute perfection. The in- 
 stance of a government fulfilling these expectations, never has 
 taken place, nor, till men are angels, ever can take place. Against 
 «very government which fails in any degree of fulfilling these 
 expectations, then, it is the professed object of this manifesto 
 to excite insurrection: here, as elsewhere, it is therefore its di- 
 rect object to excite insiirrection at all times against every 
 government whatsoever. 
 
 Sentence 2. Whatever is not forbidden by the law, cannot be 
 hindered, nor can any individual be compelled to do what the 
 law does not command. 
 
 The effect of this law, for want of the requisite exceptions or 
 explanations, is to annihilate, foK the time-being and for ever, all 
 powers of command: all power, the exercise of which consists in 
 the issuing and enforcing obedience to particular and occasional 
 
ANARCHICAL FALLACIES 101 
 
 commands ; domestic power, power of the police, judicial power, 
 military power, power of superior officers, in the line of civil ad- 
 ministration, over their subordinates. If I say to my son, Do 
 not mount that horse, which you are not strong enough to ma- 
 nage ; if I say to my daughter. Do not go to that pond, where 
 there are young men bathing ; they may set me at defiance, bid- 
 ding me show them where there is any thing about mounting 
 unruly horses, or going where there are young men bathing, in 
 the laws. By the same clause, they may each of them justify 
 themselves in turning their backs upon the lesson I have given 
 them ; while my apprentice refuses to do the work I have given 
 him j and my wife, instead of providing the meals I had desired 
 her to provide for ourselves and family, tells me she thinks fit to 
 go and dine elsewhere. In the existing order of things, under 
 any other government than that which was here to be organized, 
 whatever is commanded or forbidden in virtue of a power which 
 the law allows of and recognises, is virtually and in effect com- 
 manded and forbidden by the law itself, since, by the support it 
 gives to the persons in question in the exercise of their respective 
 authorities, it shows itself to have adopted those commands, and 
 considered them as its own before they are issued, and that what- 
 ever may be the purport of them, so long as they are confined 
 within the limits it has marked out. But all these existing go- 
 vernments being fundamentally repugnant to the rights of man, 
 are null and void, and incapable of filling up this or any other gap 
 in the texture of the new code. Besides, this right of not being 
 hindered from doing any thing which the law itself has not for- 
 bidden, nor compelled to do anything which it has not command- 
 ed, is an article of natural, unalienable, sacred, and imprescrip- 
 tible right, over which political laws have no sort of power ; so 
 that the attempt to fill up the gap, and to establish any such 
 power of commanding or forbidding what is not already com- 
 manded and forbidden by the law, would be an act of usurpation, 
 and all such powers so attempted to be established, null and void. 
 How also can any such powers subsist in a society of which all 
 the members are free and equal in point of rights 1 
 
 Admit, however, that room is given for the creation of the 
 powers in question by the spirit, though not by the letter of- this 
 clause — what follows ? That in proportion as it is harmless, it is 
 insignificant, and incapable of answering its intended purpose. 
 This purpose is to protect individuals against oppressions, to which 
 they might be subjected by other individuals possessed of powers 
 created by the law, in the exercise or pretended exercise of those 
 
 9* 
 
102 FRENCH DECLARATION OP RIGHTS. 
 
 powers. But if these powers are left to the determination of suc- 
 ceeding and (according to the doctrine of this code) inferior legis- 
 latures, and may be of any nature and to any extent which these 
 legislatures may think fit to give them, — what does the protec- 
 iion here given amount to, especially as against such future 
 legislatures, for whose hands all the restraints which it is the 
 object of the declaration to provide are intended ? Mischievous 
 pr nugatory is still the alternative. 
 
 The employment of the improper word can, instead of the pro- 
 per word shall, is not unworthy of observation. Shall is the 
 language of the legislator who knows what he is about, and aims 
 at nothing more : — can, when properly employed in a book of 
 law, is the language of the private commentator or expositor, 
 drawing inferences from the text of the law — from the acts of 
 the legislator, or what takes the place of the acts of the legisla- 
 tor — the practice of the courts of justice. — ii. 506-507. 
 
 Article XVI. — Every society in which the warranty of rights 
 is not assured, [" la garanlie des droits n' est pas assuree,""] nor 
 the separation), of powers determined, has no constitution. 
 
 Here we have an exhibition : self-conceit inflamed to insanity 
 — legislators turned into turkey-cocks — the less important opera- 
 tion of constitution-making, interrupted for the more important 
 operation of bragging. Had the whole human species, according 
 to the wish of the tyrant, but one neck, it would find in this ar- 
 ticle a sword designed to sever it. 
 
 This constitution, — the blessed constitution, of which this 
 matchless declaration forms the base — the constitution of France 
 — ^is not only the most admirable constitution in the world, but 
 the only one. That no otiier country but France has the happi- 
 ness of possessing the sort of thing, whatever it be, called a con- 
 stitution, is a meaning sufficiently conveyed. This meaning the 
 article must have, if it have any : for other meaning, most assur- 
 edly it has none. 
 
 Every society in which the warranty of rights is not assured 
 
 {toule societe. dans laquelle la garanlie des droits n'est pas 
 
 assuree,) is, it must be confessed, most rueful nonsense: but if 
 
 , the translation were not exact, it would be unfaithful : and if not 
 
 nonsensical, it would not be exact. 
 
 Do you ask, has the nation I belong to such a thing as a con- 
 stitution belonging to it ? If you want to know, look whether a 
 declaration of rights, word for word the same as this, forms part 
 of its code of laws ; for by this article, what is meant to be in- 
 
ANARCHICAL FALLACIES. 103 
 
 siuuated, not expressed (since by nonsense nothing is expressed,) 
 is the necessity of having a declaration of rights like this set by 
 authority in the character of an introduction at the head of the 
 collection of its laws. 
 
 As to the not absolutely nonsensical, but only very obscure 
 clause, about a society's having " the separation of powers 
 determined," it seems to be the result of a confused idea of an 
 intended application of the old maxim, divide et impera: the 
 governed are to have the governors under their governance, by 
 having them divided among themselves. A still older maxim, 
 and, supposing both maxims applied to this one subject, I am 
 inclined to think a truer one, is, that a house divided against 
 itself cannot stand. 
 
 Yet on the existence of two perfectly independent and fighting 
 sovereignties, or of three such fighting sovereignties, (the sup- 
 posed state of things in Britain seems here to be the example in 
 view,) the perfection of good government, or at least of what- 
 ever approach to good government can subsist without the actual 
 adoption in terminis of a declaration of rights such as this, is 
 supposed to depend. Hence, though Britain have no such thing 
 as a constitution belonging to it at present, yet, if during a period 
 of any length, five or ten years for example, it should ever hap- 
 pen that neither House of Commons nor House of Lords had 
 any confidence in the King's Ministers, nor any disposition to 
 endure their taking the lead in legislation (the House of Com- 
 mons being all the while, as we must suppose, peopled by uni- 
 versal sufi'rage,) possibly in such case, for it were a great deal too 
 much to affirm, Britain might be so far humoured as to be al- 
 lowed to suppose herself in possession of a sort of thing, which, 
 though of inferior stuff, might pass under the name of a consti- 
 tution, even without having this declaration of rights to stand at 
 its head. 
 
 That Britain possesses at present any thing that can bear that 
 name, has, by Citizen Paine, following or leading, (I really re- 
 member not, nor is it worth remembering,) at any rate agreeing 
 with this declaration of rights, been formally divided, 
 
 Accordingto general import, supported by etymology, by the 
 word constitution, something established, something cdready es- 
 tablished, something possessed of stability, something that has 
 given proofs of stability, seems to be impliedi What shall we 
 say, if of this most magnificent of all boasts, not merely the 
 simple negative, but the direct converse should be true? and if 
 instead of France being the only country which has a constitu- 
 tion, France should be the only country that has none! Yet if 
 
104 REMARKS ON FRENCH DECLARATION OP RIGHTS. 
 
 government depend upon obedience — the stability of govenment 
 upon the permanence of the disposition to obedience, and the 
 permanence of that disposition upon the duration of the habit of 
 obedience — this most assuredly must be the case. — ii. 520-521. 
 
 GENERAL REMAEKS ON THE FRENCH DECLA- 
 RATION OF RIGHTS. 
 
 Ex uno, disce omnea — from this declaration of rights, learn 
 what all other declarations of rights — of rights asserted as against 
 government in general, must ever be, — the rights of anarchy — 
 the order of chaos. 
 
 It is right I should continue to possess the coat I have upon 
 my back, and so on with regard to every thing else I look upon 
 as ray property, at least till I choose to part with it. 
 
 It is right I should be at liberty to do as I please — it would 
 be better if I might be permitted to add, whether other people 
 were pleased with what it pleased me to do or not. But as that 
 is hopeless, I must be content with such a portion of liberty, 
 though it is the least I can be content with, as consists in the 
 liberty of doing as I please, subject to the exception of not doing 
 harm to other people. 
 
 It is right I should be secure against all sorts of harm. 
 
 It is right I should be upon a par with every body else — upon 
 a par at least; and if I can contrive to get a peep over other 
 people's heads, where will be the harm in it? 
 
 But if all this is right now, at what time was it ever other- 
 wise? It is now naturally right, and at what future time will it 
 be otherwise? It is then unalterably right for everlasting. 
 
 As it is right I should possess all these blessings, I have a 
 right to all of them. 
 
 But if I have a right to the coat on my back, I have a right to 
 knock any man down who attempts to take it from me. 
 
 For the same reason, if I have a right to be secure against all 
 sorts of harm, I have a right to knock any man down who at- 
 tempts to harm me. 
 
 For the same reason, if I have a right to do whatever I please, 
 subject only to the exception of not doing harm to other people, 
 it follows that, subject only to that exception, I have a right to 
 knock any man down who attempts to prevent my doing any 
 thing that I please to do. 
 
 For the same reason, if I have a right to be upon a par with 
 every body else in every respect, it follows, that should any man 
 
ANARCHICAL FALLACIES. 1 05 
 
 take upon him to raise his house higher than mine,— rather than 
 it should continue so, I have a right to pull it down about his 
 ears, and to knock him down if he attempt to hind^ me. 
 
 Thus easy, thus natural, under the guidance of the selfish and 
 anti-social passions, thus insensible is the transition from the 
 language of utility and peace to the language of mischief. 
 Transition, did I sayt— what transition? — ^from right to right? 
 The propositions are identical — there is no transition in the 
 case. Certainly, as far as words go, scarcely any: no more 
 than if you were to trust your horse with a man for a week or 
 so, and he were to return it blind and lame: — it was your horse 
 you trusted to him— it is your horse you have received again: — 
 what you had trusted to him, you have received. 
 
 It is in England; rather than in France, that the discovery of 
 the rights of man ought naturally to have taken its rise: it is 
 we — we English, that have the better right to it. It is in the 
 English language that the transition is more natural, than per- 
 haps in most others: at any rate more so than in the French. 
 It is in English, and not in French, that we may change the 
 sense without changing the word, and, like Don Quixote on the 
 enchanted horse, travel as far as the moon, and farther, without 
 ever getting off the saddle. One and the same word, right — 
 right, that most enchanting of words — is sufficient for operating 
 the fascination. The word is ours, — that magic word, -which, 
 by its single unassisted powers, completes the fascination. In 
 its adjective shape, it is as innocent as a dove: it breathes no- 
 thing but morality aud peace. It is in this shape that, passing 
 in at the heart, it gets possession of the understanding: — it then 
 assumes its substantive shape, and joining itself to a band of 
 suitable associates, sets up the banner of insurrection, anarchy, 
 and lawless violence. 
 
 It is right that men should be as near upon a par with one 
 another in every respect as they can be made, consistently with 
 general security: here we have it in its adjective form, synony- 
 mous with desirable, proper, becoming, consonant to general 
 utility, and the like. 1 have a right to put myself upon a par 
 with every body in every respect: here we have it in its sub- 
 alanlios sense, forming with the other words a phrase equiva- 
 lent to this, — wherever I find a man who will not let me put 
 myself on a par with him in every respect, ifis right and pro- 
 per, and becoming, that I should knock him down, if I have a 
 mind to do so, and if that will not do, knock him on the head, 
 and so forth. 
 
 The French language is fortunate enough not to possess this 
 
106 REMARKS ON FRENCH DECLARATION OP RIGHTS. 
 
 mischievous abundance. But a Frenchman will not be kept 
 back from his purpose by a want of words: the want of an ad- 
 jective composed of the same letters as the substantive right, is 
 no loss to him. Is, has been, ought to be, shall be, can, — all 
 are put for one another^all are pressed into the service — all 
 made to answer the same purposes. By this inebriating com- 
 pound, we have seen all the elements of the understanding con- 
 founded, every fibre of the heart inflamed, the lips prepared for 
 every folly, and the hand for every crime. 
 
 Our right to this precious discovery, such as it is, of the 
 rights of man, must, I repeat it, have been prior to that of the 
 French. It has been seen how pecuUarly rich we are in mate- 
 rials for making it. Right, the substantive right, is the child 
 of law: from real lavvs come real rights; but from imaginary 
 laws, from laws of nature, fancied and invented by poets, rhe- 
 toricians, and dealers in moral and intellectual poisons, come 
 imaginary rights, a bastard brood of monsters, " gorgons 
 and chimerees dire." ,, And thus it is, that from legal rights, 
 the offspring of law and friends of peace, come anti-legal rights, 
 the mortal enemies of law, the subverters of government, and 
 the assassins of security. 
 
 Will this antidote to French poisons have its effect? — will 
 this preservative for the understanding and the heart against the 
 fascination of sounds, find lips to speak it? This, in point of 
 speedy or immediate efficacy at least, is almost too much to 
 hope for. Alas! how dependent are opinions upon sound! 
 Who shall break the chains which bind thom together! By what 
 force shall the associations between words and ideas be dissolved 
 -^associations coeval with the cradle — associations to which 
 every book and every conversation give increased strength? by 
 what authority shall this original vice in the structure of lan- 
 guage be corrected? How shall a word which has taken root in the 
 vitals of a language be expelled? By what means shall a word in 
 continual use be deprived of half its signification? The language 
 of plain strong sense is difiicult to learn; the language of smooth 
 nonsense is easy and familiar. The one requires a force of at- 
 tention capable of stemming the tide of usage and example; the 
 other requires nothing but to swim with it. 
 
 It is for education to do what can be done; and in education 
 is, though unhappily the slowest, the surest as well as earliest 
 resource. The recognition of the nothingness of the laws of 
 nature, and the rights of man that have been grounded on them, 
 is a branch of knowledge of as much importance to an English- 
 man, though a negative one, as the most perfect acquaintance that 
 can be formed with the existing laws of England. 
 
OUR "MATCHLESS CONSTITlJTION." 107 
 
 It must be so: — Shakspeare, whose plays were filling English 
 hearts with rapture, while the drama of France was not superior 
 to that of Caffraria, — Shakspeare, who had a key to all the pas- 
 sions and all the stores of language, could never have let slip an 
 instrument of delusion of such superior texture. No : it is not 
 possible that the rights of man — the natural, pre-adamitical, ante- 
 legal, and anti- legal rights of man — should have been unknown 
 to, have been unemployed by Shakspeare. How could the M^ac- 
 beths, and the lagos, do without them ? They present a cloak 
 for every conspiracy — they hold out a mask for every crime ; — 
 they are every villain's armoury — every spendthrift's treasury. 
 
 But if the English were the first to bring the rights of man in- 
 to the closet from the stage, it is to the stage and the closet that 
 they have confined them. It was reserved for Prance — for 
 France in her days of degradation and degeneration — in those 
 days, in comparison with which the worst of her days of fancied 
 tyranny were halcyon ones — to turn debates into tragedies, and 
 the senate into a stage. 
 
 The mask is now taken off, and the anarchist may be known 
 by the language which he uses. 
 
 He will be found asserting rights, and acknowledging them 
 at the same time not to be recognised by government. TJsing, 
 instead.pf ovght and ought not, the words is or is not — -can or 
 can nol^'' 
 
 In former times, in t^ie times of Gortius and Puffendorf, these 
 expressions were little more than improprieties in language, pre- 
 judicial to the growth of knowledge : at present, since the French 
 Declaration of Rights has adopted them, and the French Revolu- 
 tion displayed their import by a practical comment, — the use of 
 them is already a moral crime, and not undeserving of being con- 
 stituted a legal crime, as hostile to the public peace. — ii. 522-524. 
 
 OUR "MATCHLESS CONSTITUTION."* 
 
 The constitution has some good points ; it has some bad ones ; 
 it gives facility, and, until reform — radical reform — shall have 
 been accomplished, security and continual increase to waste, de- 
 predation, oppression, and corruption in every department, and 
 in every variety of shape. 
 
 Now, in their own nanfe respectively, waste, depredation, op- 
 
 * These remarks are from "The Book of Fallacies," published in 1824. 
 
108 OUR " MATCHLESS CONSTITUTION." 
 
 pression, corruption, cannot be toasted : gentlemen would not 
 cry, Waste for ever ! Depredation for ever ! Oppression for ever ! 
 Corruption for ever ! But The Constitution for ever ! this a man 
 may cry, and does cry, and makes a merit of it. 
 
 Of this instrument of rhetoric, the use is at least as old as 
 Aristotle. As old as Aristotle is even the receipt for making it ; 
 for Aristotle has himself given it: and of how much longer stand- 
 ing the use of it may have been, may baffle the sagacity of a 
 Mitford to determine. , How sweet are gall and honey ! how 
 white are soot and snow ! 
 
 Matchless Constitution! there's your sheet-anchor! there's 
 your true standard ! — rally round the constitution ; — that is, rally 
 round waste, rally round depredation, rally round oppression, 
 rally round corruption, rally round election terrorism, rally round 
 imposture — imposture on the hustings, imposture in Honourable 
 House, imposture in every judicatory. 
 
 Connected with this toasting and this boasting, is a theory, 
 such as a Westminster or Eton boy on the sixth form, ay, or his 
 grandmother, might be ashamed of For, among those who are 
 loudest in crying out theory, (as often as any attempt is made at 
 reasoning, any appeal made to the universally-known and indis- 
 putable principles of human nature,) always may some silly sen- 
 timental theory be found. 
 
 The constitution, — why must it not be looked into 1 — why is 
 it, that under pain of being ipso facto anarchist convict, we must 
 never presume to look at it otherwise than with shut eyes ? Be- 
 cause it was the work of our ancestors, — of ancestors, of legisla- 
 tors, few of whom could so much as read, and those few had no- 
 thing before them that was worth the reading. First theoretical 
 supposition, wisdom of barbarian ancestors. 
 
 When from their ordinary occupation, their order of the day, 
 the cutting of one another's throats, or those of Welshmen, 
 Scotchmen, or Irishmen, they could steal now and then a holiday, 
 how did they employ it"! In cutting Frenchmen's throats in 
 order to get their money : this was active virtue: — leaving French- 
 men's throats uncut, was indolence, slumber, inglorious ease. 
 Second theoretical supposition, virtue of barbarian ancestors. 
 
 Thus fraught with habitual wisdom and habitual virtue, they 
 sat down and devised ; and setting before them the best ends, 
 and pursuing those best ends by the best means, they framed — in 
 outline at any rate — they planned and*executed our Matchless 
 Constitution — the constitution as it stands : and may it for ever 
 stand ! 
 
BRITAIN IN 1817. 109 
 
 Planned and executed'! On what occasion? on none. At 
 what place? at none. By whom ? by nobody. 
 
 At no time ? O yes, says every-thing-as-it-should-be Black- 
 stone. O yes, says Whig after Whig, after the charming com- 
 mentator; anno Domini 1660, then it is that it was in its per- 
 fection, about fourteen years before James the Second mounted 
 the throne with a design to govern in politics as they do in Mo- 
 rocco, and in religion as they do at Rome ; to govern without 
 parliament, or in spite of parliament : a state of things for which, 
 at this same era of perfection, a preparation was made by a par- 
 liament, which being brought into as proper a state ofcprruption 
 as if Lord Castlereah had had the management of it, was kept 
 on foot for several years together, and would have been kept 
 a foot till the whole system of despotism had been; settled, but for 
 the sham Popish Plot by which the fortunate calumny and sub- 
 ordination of the Whigs defeated the bigotry and tyranny of the 
 Tories.— ii. 442-443. 
 
 The English constitution has its good points, and it has its bad 
 points. The good points are — those which have been preserved 
 in America with improvement and increase. The bad points 
 are— those which it has in common with Turkey, with Russia, 
 with Spain, with Austria,' with Prussia; with that country from 
 which the Guelphs came, and to which they may perhaps return. 
 The bad points cannot very easily be defended one by one : they 
 may with perfect ease be defended all together : and this is what 
 is always done, although not always meant, as often as a man 
 joins in the parrot cry of Constitution ! Glorious Constitution ! 
 Matchless Constitution ! Those whose sinister interest attaches 
 them to the bad points, call, of course, for our attachment to the 
 whole. And thus it is that, in the name of loyalty, our attach- 
 ment is called for to whatever is most mischievous and vile. — iii. 
 562. 
 
 BRITAIN IN 1817. 
 
 Propose any thing good ; the answer is at hand : — wild, theo- 
 retical, visionary, Utopian, impracticable, dangerous, destructive, 
 ruinous, anarchical, subversive of all governments — there you 
 have it. Well, but in Arnerica there it is : and no such evil con- 
 sequences — nothing but what is good, results from it. Aha ? 
 and so the United States government is your government, is it ? 
 — You are a republican then, are' you?— what you want is, to 
 10 
 
110 ~ BRITAIN IN 1817. 
 
 subvert this constitution of ours; the envy of nations! the pride 
 of ages! — matchless in rotton boroughs and sinecures! — Very- 
 well : begin and set up your republic : and, in the meantime, 
 you, who are so ready to talk of feelings, think what yours will 
 be, wiien, after a few nights' lodging in the Tower, the knife of 
 the hangman, after having rubbed off its rust upon the Spen- 
 ceans, is doing its office in your bowels.— iii. 437. 
 
 Yes ! — you pillage them ; you oppress them : you leave them 
 nothing that you can help leaving them: you grant them nothing, 
 not even the semblance of sympathy : you scorn them : you in- 
 sult them : for the transgression of scores, or dozens, or units, 
 you punish them by millions; you trample on them, you defame 
 them, you libel them : having by all you can do or say, wound 
 up to its highest pitch of tension the springs of provocation and 
 irritation, you make out of that imputed, and where in any de- 
 gree real, always exaggerated irritation, a ground, and the only 
 ground you can make, for the assumption, that, supposing them 
 treated with kindness — all their grievances redressed — -relief sub- 
 stituted to oppression, they would find, in the very relief so ex- 
 perienced, an incitement^-an incitement to insurrection, to 
 outrage, to anarchy, to the destruction of the supposed new and 
 never-yet-experienced blessing, together with every other which 
 they ever possessed or fancied. 
 
 Levelling! — destruction of all property! Whence is it they 
 are to learn it? — what is there they can get by it ? — who is there 
 that ever taught it them 1 — whose interest is it — whose ever can 
 it be — to teach it them ? How many of them are there, who 
 would, each of them, be so eager to lose his all ? The all of a 
 peasant — to the proprietor how much less is it, than the all of a 
 prince — the all of him whose means of livelihood are in his la- 
 bour, than the all of him whose means of livelihood are in his 
 land ? Wiio again is it, that, in your notion at least, they are at 
 this moment so abundantly looked to for instruction I Is it not 
 Cobbetf! With all his eccentricities, his variations, and his 
 inconsistencies, did he ever attempt to teach them any such lesson 
 as that of equal division of property — in other words, annihilation 
 of it ? In the whole mass of the now existing and suffering mul- 
 titude, think-ye that one in a score, or in a hundred, not to say 
 a thousand, could be found, so stupid, so foolish, as either of 
 himself or from others, to fancy that, if without other means of 
 living he had his equal share in the whole of the land to-day, he 
 would not, twenty to one, be starved upon it before the month 
 were out 1 Oh! if the men, in whom — truly or erroneously — 
 
RADICAL REFORM. Ill 
 
 they behold their friends, were not better instructors as well as 
 better friends to them than you are, or than it is in your nature 
 to be, long ere this would the imputation you are thus so eager 
 to cast on them, have been as substantially grounded as it now 
 is frivolous. — iii. 475-476. 
 
 RADICAL REFORM. 
 
 Looking at radical reform, a man sees nothing for himself or 
 his friends to gain by it. On the contrary, he sees more or less 
 that it seems to him he and they would lose by it. Why then 
 should he give himself the trouble of fixing his eyes on that 
 side? A mode much less unpleasant, and as it appears to him a 
 sufficiently safe one, is to hear what his friends say on the subject, 
 and to take his opinion on it from them. It is sufficiently safe; 
 for among them he beholds those whose capacity of forming a 
 right judgment on a question of this sort occupies the highest 
 place in his eyes. It is not only a pleasant course, but it is the 
 only one which he would not find intolerably irksome. By 
 adopting the other course, he would not only have the pain of 
 receiving disagreeable truths — truths, to himself — abstraction 
 made of all other persons — personally disagreeable, but by doing 
 so he would render himself disagreeable to his friends; he would 
 perhaps lose the only society he has immediate access to — the 
 society in which he beholds whatsoever he most values — the 
 principal, if not the only object of his affection and respect. 
 
 As to inconvenience, either in entertaining or in deducing the( 
 opinion in question — of no such inconvenience does he expose 
 himself to the smallest risk. No concern need he give himself 
 on the subject: the opinion is ready found to his hands — the 
 opinion and the sort of language — the only sort of language, that 
 need be employed in the support of it. Wild and visionary- 
 absurd, visionary, senseless, mischievous, destructive; by the 
 leading hound in the pack the cry is commenced: the others 
 have nothing to do but join in it. The principal singer has sung 
 the solo part: the others in chorus have but to repeat it. — iii. 601. 
 
 ADDUCING THE I^ROSPERITY OF THE COUN- 
 TRY AS AN ARGUMENT AGAINST REFORM. 
 
 " What is the matter with you?" " What would you have?" 
 Look at the people there, and there: think how much better off 
 
112 ARGUMENT AGAINST REFORM. 
 
 you are than they are. Your prosperity and liberty are objects 
 of envy to them;— your institutions are the models which they 
 endeavour -to imitate. * * * * * Take any one of the 
 orators by whom this argument is tendered, or of the sages on 
 whom it passes for sterling: with an observation of the general 
 wealth and prosperity of the country in his mouth, instead of a 
 half-year's rent in his hand, let any one of his tenants propose 
 to pay him thus in his own coin, — will he accept it? 
 
 In a court of justice, in an action for damages, — to learned 
 ingenuity did ever any such device occur, as that of pleading 
 assets in the hand of a third person, or in the hands of the whole 
 country, in bar to the demand? What the largest wholesale 
 trade is to the smallest retail, such, and more in point of magni- 
 tude, is the relief commonly sought for at the hands of the 
 legislator, to the relief commonly sought for at the hands of the 
 judge. What the largest wholesale trade is to the smallest 
 retail trade, such, in point of magnitude, yea, and more, is the 
 injustice endeavoured at by this argument when employed in 
 the seat of legislative power, in comparison with the injustice 
 that would be committed by deciding in conformity to it in a 
 court of justice. 
 
 No country so, wretched, so poor in every element of pros- 
 perity, in which matter for this argument might not be found. 
 
 Were the prosperity of the country ever so much greater than 
 at present, — take for the country any country whatsoever, and 
 for present time any time whatsoever, — neither the injustice of 
 the argument, nor the absurdity of it, would in any the smallest 
 degree be diminished. 
 
 Seriously and pointedly, in the character of a bar to any mea- 
 sure of relief — no, nor to the most trivial improvement, can it 
 ever be employed. Suppose a bill brought in for converting an 
 impassable road any where into a passable one, would any man 
 stand up to oppose it who could find nothing better to urge 
 against it, than the multitude and goodness of the roads we have 
 already? No; when in the character of a serious bar to the 
 measure in hand, be that measure what it may, an argument so 
 palpably inapplicable is employed, it can only be for the pur- 
 pose of creating a diversion — of turning aside the minds of men 
 from the subject really in hand, to a picture which, by its beauty 
 it is hoped, may engross the attention of the assembly, and 
 make them forget for the moment for what purpose they came 
 there.— ii. 431-432. 
 
LIBEL SEDITION. 113 
 
 LIBEL LAW, 
 
 A libel? What is it? Answer — If I am a judge, any piece 
 of printed paper, it would be agreeable to me to punish the man 
 for. Is he a man I choose to punish? I make it a libel: is he a 
 man I choose not to punish? I make it a non-libel. But is it 
 possible that, to a man in power, it should be agreeable to leave 
 unpunished any individual audacious enough to say any thing 
 otherwise than agreeable to a man in power? O yes; it is just 
 possible. Witness Morning' Chronicle in the days of Perry and 
 Lord Chief-Justice EUenborough. — v. 481. 
 
 THE WORD "SEDITION." 
 
 In this instance, as in every other, what the possessors of 
 powers have in view and at heart, is — under the name of punish- 
 ment — to cause suffering to fall upon any such persons to whom 
 it shall have happened to have offered opposition, in any shape, 
 to their will, determined, as it is, by the conception entertained 
 by them of their own interest. 
 
 Now, by the word sedition, what is it, then, that is expressed? 
 Opposition, in some shape or other, to that will: this, and little 
 more, if any thing. At any rate, nothing the shape of which 
 can be said to approach in any degree to a determinate shape. 
 
 Look for the meaning of it in statute law: look for it in com- 
 mon law: look for it as long as you will in both, you will look 
 in vain. 
 
 As to the word sedition, in statute law it may unquestionably 
 be found in places more than one; but, in each place, for the 
 import that will be attached to it, reliance is placed on the import, 
 whatsoever it may be, which by each reader shall happen to be 
 attached to it. Unfortunately, various as well as numerous are 
 the imports which, with almost equal pretensions to propriety, 
 may present themselves as attached to it; imports correspondent 
 to which are so many species of mischievous acts, differing 
 widely from one another in quality and quantity of mischievous- 
 ness. A sample may, perhaps, be brought to view before these 
 pages are at an end. 
 
 Now, of the immense and undigested mass of statute law, in 
 what portion will any exposition — any attempt to give an expla- 
 nation and fixation — of the import of this important word be 
 found? In the instance of this, as well as almost every other 
 
 10* 
 
114 
 
 ANARCHY AND DESPOTISM. 
 
 denomination of offence, nowhere. In the manufacturing of 
 this species of law, no man ever scruples to assume, and to any 
 extent, those things to be universally known and understood by 
 every body, the possibility of knowing and understanding which 
 has not been allowed to any body. To the manufacturers, the 
 very idea of definition is an object of a not altogether ill-grounded 
 horror — of real horror — and therefore, to escape from the indig- 
 nation due to such neglect of duty, of affected contempt, — 
 absurd, padantic, wild, visionary, and impracticable, — such are 
 the epithets kept in store to be poured down upon the head of 
 every presumptuous innovator, whose audacity shall dare to 
 propose the extending, to this most important of all sciences, 
 that instrument of elucidation, which is never regarded as being 
 misapplied, when applied to the most trivial — be they what they 
 may — of the several other branches of art and science. 
 
 Lastly, as to common, alias judge-made law. Not that the 
 definitions which occur here and there, in the books called books 
 of common law, axe, any of them, possessed of any binding 
 force or authority; to each such exposition, whether repeated as 
 having been given by a judge speaking as such, or exhibited liy 
 an unofficial and uncommissioned treatise-maker, each succeed- 
 ing judge, on each occasion, bestows such regard, and no other, 
 as-it happens to him to find his convenience in bestowing: for 
 nothing can he ever see, that, if so determined, can have any 
 such effect as that of restraining him from the freest exercise of 
 such his pleasure. Still, however, in such expositions, defini- 
 tions, exemplications, and illustrations, as are to be found in law- 
 books, a man who is rich enough to possess a law-library of 
 adequate magnitude, and, at the same time, has leisure enough 
 to make this use of it, may, in most cases, find some guide to 
 reflection — some help to conjecture. 
 
 Accordingly, in books of common law, words may here and 
 there be found, which have been taken for the subject of declared 
 definition. Examples are, the words, high treason, riot, rout, 
 and unlawful assembly,- not to speak of "others which have no 
 immediate bearing upon the present subject. 
 
 But, in the number of them, the word sedition is not to be 
 found.— V. 260. 
 
 ANARCHY AND DESPOTISM. 
 
 Next to the evils of anarchy, are the evils of despotism. Poli- 
 tical society once formed, despotism is the predominant disease. 
 
LORDS SPIRITUAL. 115 
 
 to the attacks of which it remains continually exposed. De- 
 potism, or misrule, has place in so far as the force of the whole 
 is, for the benefit of the one or the few, employed in a manner 
 mischievous to the many.~-v. 222. 
 
 THE HABEAS CORPUS ACT.* 
 
 As for the Habeas Corpus Ad, better the statute-book were rid 
 of it Standing or lying as it does, — up one day, down another, 
 — it serves but to swell the list of sham-securities with which, 
 to keep up the delusion, the pages of our law-books are de- 
 filed. When no man has need of it, then it is that it stands: 
 comes a time when it might be of use, and then it is sus- 
 pended. — iii. 435., 
 
 BRIBERY COMPARED WITH INTIMIDATION. 
 
 Compared with the system o( terrorism, the system oibribenj 
 is virtue. Under the system of bribery both parties are pleased. 
 The giver of the bribe gets what he most desires; the receiver 
 of it what he most desires: both parties are gratified; both par- 
 ties are contented. In both situations you see smiling faces, 
 indexes of contented hearts. Under the system of terrorism, 
 whatsoever feeling of satisfaction can have place, look for it on 
 one side only: and even on that side scarcely can it have place, 
 without having for its alloy the apprehension of odium, and that 
 odium just: — frowns above; gloom below: — sympathy, satis- 
 faction, nowhere. — iii. 484. 
 
 LORDS SPIRITUAL. 
 
 Lords, who -ixenot Peers, but something better and still more 
 respectable than Peers; namely, — I. Bishops, Right Reverend; 
 II. Archbishops, Most Reverend. These, to distinguish them 
 from the sort of Lords who are Peers, are styled Lords Spi- 
 ritual; to wit, in consideration of the spirit they are full of. 
 Spirit meant originally gas: a kind of thing, one species of 
 which is that which streets are lighted with: in their instance, 
 it means a sacred sort. Sacred means the same as holy: so 
 now you understand what they are. In contradistinction to 
 
 » Written in 1817. 
 
116 LEGISLATIVE MISTAKES. 
 
 them, the Lords who are Peers, and have for their contradis- 
 tinction attributive the word Temporal, cannot but, in con- 
 formity to the established nomenclature, be acknowledged to be 
 profane: sacred and lioly are synonymous to spiritual — pro- 
 fane to temporal: sacred and profane are to each other as black 
 and white: holt/ men are, somehow or other, if you will be- 
 lieve them, " in God;" and, being so in God, they contrive, 
 somehow or other, to be Fathers,- which is more than your 
 Bishops can do* — in a carnal sense at least — or your Arch- 
 bishops either. — iv. 438-439. 
 
 LEGISLATIVE MISTAKES. 
 
 Mistakes, if made hy legislation, cannot they he corrected by 
 legislation? O yes, that they may; and so may mistakes in 
 generalship. In what time? With good fortune, in a twelve- 
 month: with ordinary fortune, in two or three years, or in ano- 
 ther parliament. When the army has been cut to pieces for 
 having been enacted to march the wrong way, get an act of 
 parliament, and you may order a retreat; when the capi- 
 tal has been sunk in a bad trade, get an act of parliament, and 
 you may try another. — iv. 132, 
 
 HOW TO BRING IN A BILL, WITH PRECAUTIONS 
 AGAINST ITS PASSING. 
 
 According to established usage, you have given notice of 
 your intention to propose a measure on the subject, and to the 
 effect in question. The intention is of too great importance to 
 be framed and carried into act in the compass of the same 
 year or session: you accordingly announce your intention for 
 next session. When the next session comes, the measure is 
 of too great importance to be brought on the carpet at the com- 
 mencement of the session; at that period it is not yet ma- 
 ture enough. If it be not advisable to delay it any longer, you 
 bring it forward just as the session closes. Time is thus 
 gained, and without any decided loss in the shape of reputa- 
 tion; for what you undertook, has to the letter been performed. 
 When the measure has been once brought in, you have to' 
 take your choice, in the first place, between operations for de- 
 lay and operations for rejection. Operations for delay exhi- 
 bit a manifest title to preference: so long as their effect can 
 * Address to the citizens of France in 1830. 
 
aUALIPlCATlONS OF AN ENLIGHTENED LAWGIVER. 117 
 
 be made to last, they accomplish their object, and no sacrifice 
 either of design or of reputation has been made. The extreme 
 importance and extreme difficulty are themes on which you blow 
 the trumpet, and which you need not fear the not hearing suffi- 
 ciently echoed. When the treasury of delay has been exhausted, 
 you have your choice to take between trusting to the chapter of 
 accidents for the defeat of the measure, or endeavouring to en- 
 gage some friend to oppose it, and propose the rejection of it. 
 But you must be unfortunate indeed, if you can find no oppo- 
 nents, no tolerably plausible opponents, unless among friends, 
 and friends specially commissioned for the purpose : a sort of 
 confidence more or less dangerous must in that case be reposed. 
 Upon the whole, you must however be singularly unfortunate 
 or unskilful, if by the counter-measure of diversion any con- 
 siderable reduction of the abuse or imperfection be, spite of your 
 utmost endeavours, effected, or any share of reputation that you 
 need care about, sacrificed. — ii. 535. 
 
 POWER OF A SUPREME LEGISLATURE UNLIMITED. 
 
 The King, with the advice and consent of the Lords and Com- 
 mons, might, if such were his pleasure, might, viz. by act of 
 parliament, take into his hands the whole wealth of the country^ 
 and share it between himself and them. Nothing could be more 
 correctly lawful : but, as few things would be more manifestly 
 inexpedient, it is what never has been done, and what nobody, 
 sane or insane, is afraid of seeing done. — v. 297. 
 
 THE aUALIPICATIONS OP AN ENLIGHTENED 
 LAWGIVER. 
 
 Laws need not be of the wild and spontaneous growth of the 
 country to which they are given : prejudice and the blindest cus- 
 tom must be humoured ; but they need not be the sole arbiters 
 and guides. He who attacks prejudice wantonly and without 
 necessity, and he who suffers himself to be led blindfold a slave 
 to it, equall)' miss the line of reason. 
 
 Legislators who, having freed themselves from the shackles of 
 authority, have learnt to soar above the mists of prejudice, know 
 as well how to make laws for one country as for another : all they 
 need is to be possessed fully of the facts ; to be informed of the 
 local situation, the climate, the bodily constitution, the manners, 
 
118 ARBITRARY TRANRFERENCE OF LAWS. 
 
 the legal customs, the religion, of those with whom they have to 
 deal. These are the data they require : possessed of these data, 
 all places are alilce. If they are more at home In their own coun- 
 try than elsewhere, it is only because the requisite stock of facts 
 in the former situation is already possessed by them, without their 
 being obliged to wait the time which, in a foreign country, it 
 would require to seek them out. — vii. 180-181. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE EFFECT OP ARBITRARILY 
 TRANSFERRING THE LAWS OF ONE COUNTRY TO 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 Wrongful Confinement and Wrongful Banishment. — The 
 effects of these two injurious acts are liable to great diversity, from 
 differences in point of climate, manners, or religion. A night's con- 
 finement in the prison called the Black-hole, in the hot climate of 
 Calcutta, after producing the most excruciating torments, proved 
 fatal to nearly all the persons who where confined in it. In a 
 winter's night in Siberia, the same number of persons might per- 
 haps have undergone a confinement of the same length in a simi- 
 lar space, without any very remarkable inconvenience. 
 
 Confinement inflicted upon a Gentoo, might under certain cir- 
 cumstances, be attended with the forfeiture of his caste ; a pos- 
 session to him much dearer than life : even banishment, if the 
 effects of it were to seclude him from the necessary means of ob- 
 serving his religious ceremonies, might be attended with a simi- 
 lar effect. Either species of coercion might, at any rate, wound 
 his conscience, inflicting thereby a simple mental injury of the 
 severest kind. The Gentoos seem to stand at the summit of the 
 scale of sensibility on this line. Descending, we find the Maho- 
 metan, the Jew, the Greek Christian, the Catholic Christian, all 
 exposed to suffer from similar causes, according to their respec- 
 tive notions of religious duty ; the Mahometan, by being hindered 
 from performing his ablutions, forced upon a diet inconsistent 
 with his fasts ; the Jew, in like manner, by being forced at any 
 time into a forbidden diet ; the Greek, by being put under a 
 coercion of the same kind during any of his times of fasting ; the 
 Catholic, from a similar cause, or from the being prevented from 
 hearing mass ; even the pious Protestant might suffer in some 
 degree, by finding himself deprived, for a length of time, of the 
 comforts of a spiritual communion : these being so many cir- 
 cumstances demanding particular attention in the choice of pu- 
 nishments to be inflicted on such individuals. 
 
ARBITRARY TRANSFERENCE OP LAWS. 119 
 
 Simple Mental Injuries. — Those sights, those discourses 
 •Which would give pain to the inhabitant of one country, would 
 not, in every instance, be productive of a similar sensation to the 
 inhabitant of another. This difference, too, like so many others, 
 tums'upon the point of religion. The secretary of every religion, 
 at least the vulgar, that is, the great bulk of every sect, is ex- 
 posed to the dread of invisible agents ; but the names and at- 
 tributes of those agents are different : the mind of a Gentoo may 
 be filled with unspeakable terror from the apprehension of a visit 
 from Peshush ; while an ignorant Christian is afraid of witches, 
 devils, ghosts, and vampires. 
 
 The votary of every sect may receive a cruel wound from 
 any discourse or exhiljition which tends to reflect contempt on 
 any of the objects of his veneration. Protestants feel little in 
 comparison but for Christ Jesus, and for that Blessed Spurit, 
 which Is often figured as a dove. The Catholic, to the list of 
 Divine Persons adds the Virgin Mary ; and every martyr and 
 every saint who is added to the calendar, makes an almost equal 
 addition to the sphere of his sensibility. The Mahometan has 
 his apostles besides Mahomet ; and the Gentoo his deities besides 
 Brama. 
 
 Among the higher classes of Mahometans and Gentoos, for a 
 man to intrude himself into the presence of a married woman 
 would, to the husband be an unpardonable injury; a bare re- 
 quest to see her, an affront. Such injuries, to which the Euro- 
 pean would be insensible, might, in Asia, with perfect propriety, 
 be referred to the denomination now before us. More than this, 
 the idea which it would be proper to annex to these several of- 
 fences will vary much in different countries, in virtue of the va- 
 rious circumstances to which it will be respectively proper to 
 give the effect of justification, exemption, extenuation, or aggra- 
 vation. 
 
 The difference of castes in Hindostan furnish a copious stock 
 of extenuations and aggravations to different classes of offences. 
 
 The extraordinary extent, if one may so say, of the surface of 
 their moral as well as religious sensibility, exposes them to a, 
 proportional variety of injuries : hence so many peculiar grounds 
 of defence and provocation. We are told, that " on the Malabar 
 side of the coast, if a Hallachore chance to touch a man of a su- 
 perior tribe, he draws his sabre and cuts him down on the spot: 
 without any check from his own conscience, or from the laws of 
 his country."* 
 
 * Scraflon's Reflections on the Government of Indostan. — Vcrelst's 
 View of the English Government in Bengiil. See Vcrelst, p. 73. — East 
 India Reports of the House of Commons, 1772. 
 
120 ARBITRARY TRANSFERENCE OF LAWS. 
 
 A prejudice so strong, though altogether unjust and ferocious, 
 would require great forbearance on the part of the legislator : it 
 would require art to soften and to combat it.' But it would be 
 better to yield to it altogether for a time, than uselessly to com- 
 promise his authority, and expose his laws to hatred. 
 
 Semi-public Offences.— Different countries are subject to dif- 
 ferent calamities, according to their situation. Climate, produc- 
 tions, means of defence, &c. : hence results a great variety in the 
 laws of police. 
 
 In those countries which are nurseries of the plague, many 
 precautions may be requisite, which would be needless against 
 that horrible distemper in other countries. Such precautions 
 would give rise to a correspondent train of offences. It might 
 become an offence, for example, to pass from one town to an- 
 other ; to enter a port ; to leave a vessel before the prescribed 
 time ; or to disembark a bale of goods, &c. 
 
 In Great Britain, it could scarcely be in the power of any au- 
 thority, short of the supreme, to do any thing in the way of en- 
 grossing or otherwise, towards producing or enhancing the cala- 
 mity of famine. In islands of less extent and fertility, or under 
 governments more liable to abuse, the danger might not be so 
 ideal. In Bengal, the famine by which so many millions were 
 swept off in the year 1769, was owing, let us hope, to no other 
 cause than the inclenjency of the seasons, or the insuperable dif- 
 ficulties attending a new system of government : but without 
 legislative precautions, 3 similar effect might, perhaps, be pro- 
 duced by the abuse of delegated power in that distant member 
 of the British empire. 
 
 In mountainous countries, great mischief is sometimes done by 
 falls of snow, which, in the neighbourhood of the Alps, are galled 
 avalanches, and by which whole villages are sometimes over- 
 whelmed. A sudden concussion given to the air, by means so 
 inconsiderable as the discharge of a pistol will sometimes, it is 
 said, be sufficient to give rise to a catastrophe of this sort. I for- 
 get what traveller it is who says, that on this account the dis- 
 charge of fire-arms is made penal in §ome parts of that moun- 
 tainous region. 
 
 In maritime countries, the coasts of which consist of a loose 
 sand, there are often found different sorts of plants, chiefly of the 
 rush kind, which, by the matted contexture of their roots, com- 
 municate to the soil a degree of tenacity, by means of which it is 
 enabled to afford a more effectual resistance to the encroachments 
 of the water. By the laws of various countries in Europe, the 
 
ARBITRARY TRANSFERENCE OF LAWS. 121 
 
 destruction of such plants is prohibited under penalties which 
 would be altogether useless in different situations. 
 
 In the Dutch and Flemish provinces, the extreme vigilance 
 with which it is necessary to guard against the incursions of the 
 sea, will naturally give occasion to various regulations, for which 
 there would be no use in a more elevated situation. 
 
 In towns where the coldness of the climate requires that the 
 houses should be substantial, and the dearness of ground-rent 
 renders the style of building lofty, the danger that may attend 
 the fall of such as happen to be ruinous, gives occasion to re- 
 gulations which would be unnecessary in those sultry regions 
 where an ordinary house is little more than a large umbrella. 
 
 In some parts of Spanish America, the fear of earthquakes 
 prevents the inhabitants, it is said, from giving to their buildings 
 that degree of solidity which, on other accounts they would 
 deem eligible. In such hazardous situations, the superintend- 
 ing care of the legislator might, perhaps not improperly, second 
 the prudence of the individual. 
 
 In hot climates, the letting into a country a mass of stagnant 
 water might in certain situations, be productive of an injury to 
 public health, from which the inhabitants of more temperate re- 
 gions are in a great measure secure. 
 
 Sicily and other parts of Italy are ejfposed to a wind called 
 the Sirocco, which, by the excessive heat and languor it occa- 
 sions, is extremely troublesome. Certain parts of the East are 
 occasionally afflicted with a wind called^Saraieli, the influence 
 of which is said to be almost instantaneously fatal. If, in any 
 of those countries, there was a wood, or a hill, or even a wall, 
 which could in any degree answer the purpose of screening the 
 neighbourhood from the blast, the removal of such a fence 
 might be guarded against by penalties which, in our temperate 
 regions, would have no such utility to justify them. 
 
 In Arabia, and other countries where 'Water is scarce, the ex- 
 posing or dissipating the water of a single spring might expose 
 thousands to perish with thirst, and render the communication 
 between one district and another almost impracticable. 
 
 In Russia, the destroying or putting down a few inns might 
 be productive of effects almost equally mischievous. In Eng- 
 land, hundreds of much better houses of the like sort are put 
 down every year, without occasioning the least sensation. 
 
 Offences against Property. — It is evident that these are liable 
 to infinite diversity, in as far as the events, which it is expe- 
 dient should be admitted into the list of those constitutive of 
 title, are liable to differ. Other differences will necessarily 
 11 
 
122 DEALING WITH PREJUDICES. 
 
 arise, from a thousand sources, too tedious to particularize: to 
 enlarge upon this head would be impossible, without prema- 
 turely engaging^ in the intricacies of the civil branch of jurispru- 
 dence. 
 
 The name of usury will, in different countries, according to 
 the greater or less plenty of money, be given to contracts of 
 very different descriptions: in England, six per cent, is deemed 
 excessive; in Bengal, twelve per cent, is deemed moderate; it is 
 the usual interest, just as it was among the ancient Eomans. 
 
 The offence of ex'tortion will require to be defined differently 
 in different political situations. If a clerk in a merchant's 
 counting-house Were to present his compliments, and state to 
 the prime minister of England, that a present of money would 
 not be unacceptable, the statement would be laughed at. But 
 such has not always been the case in Bengal: an equally civil 
 and cautiously worded message, directed to Mahomed Reza 
 Pawn, appears not to have been altogether unattended to,* 
 
 The kind of government occasions a great variety in the de- 
 finition of this kind of offence. Greater precautions are requi- 
 site to protect the subjects in a conquered country, ox under an 
 absolute government, than among the citizens of a free state. 
 On the other hand, a conquering republic is more oppressive to 
 the conquered country than a conquering monarch: a monarch 
 may be rapacious; but he is interested in preventing the exac- 
 tions of his officers: in a republic, on the other hand — in the 
 Senate of Rome, for example — there existed a tacit collusion 
 ^mong those that possessed authority. -^i. 173-176. 
 
 NATIONAL PREJUDICES TO BE CONSIDEEED BY 
 LEGISLATORS. 
 
 The clear utility of the law will be as its abstract utility, de- 
 duction made of the dissatisfaction and other inconvenience occa- 
 sioned by it. Hot-headed innovators, full of their own notions, 
 only pay attention to abstract advantage. They reckon discontent 
 for nothing: their impatience to enjoy, is the greatest obstacle to 
 their success. This was the great error of Joseph II. The greater 
 part of the changes he proposed were good abstractedly; but as 
 he had not considered the dispositions of the people, he rendered 
 
 * East India Reporls, Ho. Com., 1772. 
 
DEALING WITH PREJUDICES. 123 
 
 his best designs abortive by his imprudence. How often are 
 men the dupe of words! What is the public good, but the 
 happiness and contentment of the public? 
 
 The value of dissatisfaction will be in the compound ratio of 
 three things: * 
 
 1. The multitude of the persons diss-atisfied; 
 
 2. The inlensily of the dissatisfaction in each person; 
 
 3. The duration of the dissatisfaction on the part of each. 
 These are the bases of calculation, if we would operate with 
 
 success: the smaller the number of the discontented, the greater 
 the chance of success; but this is not a reason for employing less 
 humanity in the manner of treating them. If only one person 
 were rendered unhappy by the change, he would yet be worthy 
 of the notice of the legislator, who ought at least, to free his 
 measures from insult and contempt, to create new hopes, to col- 
 lect those which revive, and to publish amnesties for the past. 
 Really useful changes possess a fund of reason, which will tend 
 at all times to produce a conviction of their utility. 
 
 Every species of dissatisfaction should be relieved by its par- 
 ticular remedy. A pecuniary loss requires pecuniary compen- 
 sation: a loss of power may be compensated either by an in- 
 demnity in money or in honour. Disappointed expectation 
 may be softened by those arrangements which open a new ca- 
 reer to hope. 
 
 As a means of obviating dissatisfaction, indirect legislation 
 should be preferred to direct; gentle means; to violent: example, 
 instruction, and exhortation should precede, or follow, or, if 
 possible, stand in the place of law. 
 
 Ought inoculation to have been established by law? No, with- 
 out doubt. Even supposing it had been possible, the efTect 
 would have been dreadful: it would have carried alarm and dis- 
 may into a multitude of families.* The practice, however, has 
 become universal in England, from the force of example and 
 public discussion alone. 
 
 Catherine II. was very skilful in the art of ruling minds. She 
 did not make laws obliging the Russian nobility to enter the 
 military service, which they disliked; but by determining all 
 their ranks, by fixing all precedencies even among civilians, 
 according to the grades in the army, she combated their indo- 
 
 * This refers tn inoculation for the small Pnx, The censure would not 
 extend to the lale legislative measure (3 and 4 Vict. c. 29.) for enforcing 
 the less formidable precaution of vaccination. The principle of that mea- 
 sure is — not the enfnrcing the practice on a people prejudiced against it, 
 but the protf'clinn of the body of (he people from the mischief which may 
 be occasioned by the carelessness of individuals. — Ed. 
 
124 
 
 ON ATTHIBUTING DEFECTS IN THE LAW. 
 
 lence by their vanity, and the nobles of the most distant pro- 
 vinces sought to obtain the new distinctions; that they might 
 not be superseded by those vi^hom they had hitherto esteemed 
 beneath them. ^ 
 
 In choosing, among many laws, which shall be introduced 
 first, select that which, being established, will facilitate the in- 
 troduction of the others. 
 
 The slowness of its operation is, as far as it goes, an objec- 
 tion to a measure; but if this slowness may be a means of ob- 
 viating a dissatisfaction, which expeditious measures would ex- 
 cite, the former may be preferable. 
 
 When the prejudices of the people are violent and obstinate, 
 the legislator is in great danger of running into extremes. One 
 extreme is, to take fire at the prejudice, and resolve upon its ex- 
 tirpation, without weighing the good and bad effects of such a 
 measure in the balance of utility: the other is to suffer these 
 prejudices to be made use of, as a pretext for that indolence and 
 pusillanimity which would leave the evil without remedy. 
 
 These prejudices have generally some salvo for good go- 
 vernment and good morals. It is the province of the legislator 
 to find out this salvo, if there be one, and make use of it; and, 
 in the mean time, if it be worth while, to try what instruction 
 and other gentle means will do, towards getting the better of 
 the prejudice. 
 
 It was in this manner, as has been observed by Rousseau, 
 that Francis I. overthrew the employment of seconds in duels: 
 " Quant '1 ceux, dit il, qui aurant la l&chete d'mployer des se- 
 conds, &c." He opposed honour to honour; and as the indi- 
 viduals fought to prove their courage, no one dared to call in 
 those auxiliaries, whose assistance was thus marked as throw- 
 ing a suspicion upon that courage itself — i. 181-182. 
 
 ON ATTRIBUTING DEFECTS IN THE LAW TO 
 BARBAROUSNESS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 It is a saying attributed to Solon, that the laws he had given 
 to the Athenians were not such as were the best in themselves, 
 but the best they were capable of receiving. In this there was 
 doubtless somewhat of truth, especially when applied to that 
 turbulent and jealous people; and the saying would hold good, 
 in the greatest degree, in regard to the constitutional branch of 
 their laws: but that it was strictly true, one may venture with- 
 out much hesitation to deny. 
 
TO THE BARBAROUSNESS OP THE PEOPLE. 125 
 
 There could not have been a more convenient maxim ior 
 saving the credit of a legislator; and t)iose who have had a legis- 
 lator to deYend, have not failed to make the most of it. But 
 there are few maxims, perhaps, that have been carried so much 
 beyond the mark: and it has been frequently cited in cases 
 where it has not only been erroneous in itself, but not altogether 
 innocent in its'consequences. 
 
 Whatever Athenian arrogance may pretend, it will not easily 
 gain credit with a discerning mind, that at so early a period of 
 society the best of all possible laws should have presented them- 
 selves to view. It will not be believed, that among a people 
 whose character disqualified them from receiving any better laws 
 than those which Solon gave them, there should have existed a 
 man, who in his own mind had carried that most difficult of 
 sciences to so high a pitch of perfection, that it will never be 
 possible for any other man to carry it higher. 
 
 This sort of apology, what degree of truth soever there may 
 have been in it, in the instance in which it has been made, has 
 since been much abused; and it has been employed to gain a 
 reputation of wisdom and expediency for many a mischievous 
 and many a foolish law. The law, such as it is, lies before you; 
 yet, foolish as you may think it, the lawgiver may, for aught 
 that you know, have been the wisest of mankind. But such as 
 the author is, such are bis works. Since, then, the lawgiver is 
 wise, the law itself may perhaps be a wise one too, how foolish 
 soever it may appear to you: it may have had its use though you . 
 and I don't see it. Let the law, then, stay where it is; to abolish 
 it is dangerous: a mischief may ensue, which we are not able to 
 foresee. Such is the circle in which many a man who, insensible 
 to the force of truth, has nothing to guide him but the prejudice 
 he has conceived in favour of antiquity, scruples not to run. If 
 any one has a mind to see how far the legislator was entitled to 
 the benefit of this plea, let him consider in what channel the pre- 
 judices of the people are likely to have run, and in what points 
 they are likely to have imposed a coercion upon the legislator. It 
 is natural enough they should have opposed any important vio- 
 lent change he might have been inclined to make in the article 
 of religion; and yet we have seen religions overthrown by the 
 legislator, and others set up in their stead. It is natural enough 
 they should oppose the investing men with new powers, or 
 making a new distribution of the old; and yet in this way, too,- 
 we have seen great changes made by legislators, with little or no 
 opposition on the part of the people. It is natural enough they 
 should oppose any wishes he might form, or might be suspected 
 
 11* 
 
126 
 
 PBRFECTIBIUTY OF THE LAWS CHIMERICAL. 
 
 to entertain, of subjecting them to new and irksome restraints 
 or obligations; although among the most necessary restraints and 
 obligations, we shall find some of the most irksome. But a 
 supposition, that is not by any means a natural one, is, that by 
 dint of menaces and clamour they should have forced him to 
 fetter their own freedom, by a heap of idle, trifling, and ridicu- 
 lous obligations and restraints. When a code, amidst all its 
 redundancies, is defective, and regulations of the most obvious 
 use and necessity are looked for in it in vain, it is not a mere 
 ipse dixit that will warrant us to give credit for utility to insti- 
 tutions, in which not the least trace of utility is discernible.— i. 
 191-192. 
 
 PERFECTIBILITY OF THE LAWS CHIMERICAL. 
 
 Dr. Priestley has expressed his expectation that man will 
 ultimately attain a degree of happiness and knowledge which far 
 surpasses onr present conceptions. These glorious expectations 
 remind us of the golden age of poetry: they have, however, this 
 advantage; the happiness of which they speak is to come, and 
 we are not discouraged by vain regrets for what is past. 
 
 We may hope, then, that in future time improvements will be 
 made, among other things, in the practice of legislation. But we 
 must only consider that the laws have reached the maximum of 
 their perfection, and that men have obtained the maximum of 
 their happiness, inasmuch as itdepends upon the laws, when great 
 crimes shall be known only b)' the laws which prohibit them: 
 when the catalogue of prohibited acts shall no longer contain 
 actions the evils of which is imaginary: when the rights and 
 duties of the different classes of men shall be so well defined in 
 the civil code; that there shall be no suits arising upon points of 
 law: when the system of procedure shall be so simplified, that 
 the disputes which from time to time may arise upon questions 
 of fact, shall be terminated without any other expense or delay 
 than is absolutely necessary: when the courts of justice, though 
 always open, shall be rarely resorted to: when nations, having 
 laid aside their arms and disbanded their armies by mutual agree- 
 ment, and not from mutual weakness, shall only pay almost 
 imperceptible taxes: when commerce shall be free, so that what 
 may be done by many, shall not be restricted exclusively to a 
 small number; and when oppressive taxes, prohibitions, and 
 bounties, shall not prevent its natural development: when perfect 
 liberty shall be allowed to those branches of trade which require 
 liberty, and positive encouragements shall be granted to those 
 
PERFECTIBILITY OP THE LAWS CHIMERICAL. 127 
 
 which require it: when, from the perfection of constitutional 
 law, the rights and duties of public officers shall have been so 
 well distributed, and the dispositions of the people to submit and 
 to resist so well tempered, that the prosperity resulting from the 
 preceding causes shall be beyond the danger of revolutions: and, 
 in conclusion, when the law, which should be the rule of human 
 actions, shall be concise, intelligible, without ambiguity, and in 
 the hands of every one. 
 
 But to what will the happiness arising from all this amount? 
 It may be described as the absence of a certain quantity of evil. 
 It will arise from the absence of a part of the different evils to 
 which human nature is subject. The increase of happiness 
 which will hence result, is doubtless sufficiently great to excite 
 the zeal of all virtuous minds in the career of perfection which 
 is open to us; but there is nothing in it unknown or mysterious, 
 and which cannot be perfectly understood. 
 
 Every thing beyond this is chimerical. Perfect happiness 
 belongs to the imaginary regions of philosophy, and must be 
 classed with the universal elixir and the philosopher's stone. 
 In the age of greatest perfection, fire will burn, tempests will 
 rage, man will be subject to infirmity, to accidents, and to death. 
 It may be possible to- diminish the influence of, but not to de- 
 stroy, the bad and mischievous passions. The unequal gifts of 
 nature and of fortune will always create jealousies: there will 
 always be opposition of interests, and, consequently rivalries 
 and hatred. Pleasures will be purchased by pains; enjoyments 
 by privations. Painful labour, daily subjection, a condition 
 nearly allied to indigence, will always be the lot of numbers. 
 Among the higher as well as the lower classes, there will be 
 desires which cannot be satisfied; inclinations which must be 
 subdued: reciprocal security can only be established by the for- 
 cible renunciation by each one, of every thing which might 
 wound the legitimate rights of others. If we suppose, there- 
 fore, the most reasonable laws, constraint will be their basis: 
 but the most salutary constraint, in its distant effect, is always 
 an evil, is always painful in its immediate operation. 
 
 The limits of perfectibility are not so easily assigned in some 
 other points: it is not possible to say precisely how far the human 
 mind may go in theregions of poetry, in the different branches 
 of literature, in the fine arts, — as painting, music, &c. It is, 
 however, probable that the sources of novelty will be exhausted; 
 and that, if the instruments of pleasure become more exquisite, 
 taste will become proportionably severe. 
 
 This faithful picture, the result of facts, is more worthy of re- 
 
128 THE FORMS OF PARLIAMENTARY PROCEDURE. 
 
 gard than the deceptive exaggerations which €xcite our hopes 
 for a moment, and then precipitate us into discouragement, as if 
 we had deceived ourselves in hoping for happiness. Let us seek 
 only for what is attainable: it presents a career sufficiently 
 vast for genius ; sufficiently difficult for the exercisfe of the great- 
 est virtues. We shall never make this world the abode of per- 
 fect happiness : when we shall have accomplished all that can be 
 done, this paradise will yet be, according to the Asiatic idea, 
 oply a garden ; but this garden will be a most delightful abode, 
 compared with the savage forest in which men have so long 
 \y3ndered, — i. 194. 
 
 THE FORMS OF PARLIAMENTARY PROCEDURE. 
 
 In this bye-corner, an observing eye may trace the original 
 seed-plot of English liberty; it is in this hitherto neglected spot 
 that the seeds of that invaluable production have germinated and 
 grown up to their present maturity, scarce noticed by the hus- 
 bandmen, and unsuspected by the destroyer. 
 
 The importance of these uninviting forms is no fine-spun spe- 
 cjilation — no fanciful conceit. Political liberty depends every 
 where upon the free actiop, and frequent and genuine manifesta- 
 tion of the public will : but the free action and genuine manifes- 
 tation of that will, depend upon the mode of proceeding observed 
 in going through the several steps that must be taken before any 
 sijch result can be produced. 
 
 Without any such regulations as those here insisted on, — in 
 short, without any regulations at all, — a general will, or pretended 
 general will, may come now and then to be declared. But of 
 what sort ? Such a one as thp will of hipa vho gives his purse 
 to save his life, — or signs a deed he never read, or takes an oath 
 with an et cetera at the end of it,— is to the free and enlightened 
 will of the individual. Without rules, the power of the assembly 
 either evaporates in ineffectual struggles, or becomes a prey to 
 the obstinate and overbearing: Delur fortiori, or rather robustiori, 
 would be its proper motto. Unanimity may glitter on the sur- 
 face : but it is such unanimity as famine and imprisonment ex- 
 tort from an English jury. In a system of well-digested rules, 
 — such as the English practice, with little improvement, would 
 supply,— will be found the only buckler of defence that reflec- 
 tion can have against precipitancy, moderation against violence, 
 
THE FORMS OP PARLIAMENTAUy PROCEDURE. 129 
 
 modesty against arrogance, veracity against falseliood, simplicity 
 against deception and intrigue. — ii. 332. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF THE METHOD OP PROCEEDING 
 IN THE BRITISH PARLIAMENT ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 Regitlations. 
 
 Article I. Notiiing siiall be deemed to be the act of the as- 
 sembly, that has not been proposed in and to the assembly by a 
 motion made for that purpose, put to the vote, and adopted by 
 the majority of the votes. 
 
 Art. II. Every proposition, designed to give birth to an act 
 of the assembly, shall be exhibited in writing by the mover, and 
 conceived in the very terms, neither more nor fewer, by which 
 it is designed such act should stand expressed. 
 
 Art. III. A proposition of any kind having been once re- 
 ceived, until -that proposition has been disposed of, no other mo- 
 tion shall be made, unless forgone or other of three purposes : — 
 
 1. To offer an amendment to the proposition already on the 
 carpet; 
 
 2. To propose a mode of putting an end to the business with- 
 out decision ; or, 
 
 3. To reclaim the execution of some law of order at the in- 
 stant of its infringement. 
 
 Art. IV. The process of debating, and that of voting, are 
 distinct processes ; nor shall the latter be entered upon till after 
 the former is gone through. 
 
 Points I. and II. — Motion written, and in terminis. 
 
 Questions, with .Answers exhibiting Seasons. 
 
 Question I. Why nothing to be given as the act of the assembly 
 that has not been put to the vote, and carried in the assembly 1 
 
 Answer. This is only saying, in other words, that an act of 
 the assembly shall be forged. 
 
 ********** 
 
 Q,uestion II. Why in writing ■? 
 
 Answer; 1. Because it is only by writing that the tenor of 
 any discourse can be fixed fof any length of time. 
 
 2. It is only by such fixation that it can be ascertained that 
 the draft exhibited is capable of standing as a resolution of 
 the assembly, in the very words in which it was proposed. 
 
130 ADVANTAGES OF THE METHOD OF PROCEEDING 
 
 Q.uestion HI. Why put into writing by him who makes it, 
 and not by any one else 1 
 
 Answer: 1. Because no third person can so well tell what it 
 is a man means, as he himself can. If the words of it, as com- 
 mitted to writing, are chosen by any body else, the utmost ac- 
 curacy it can aspire to in the hands of such third person is, the 
 being as exactly representative of the meaning of the avowed au- 
 thor of the motion, as if he himself had chosen them. But the 
 chances are rather against its possessing that extreme degree of 
 accuracy ; and were they ever so much in favour of it, yet so 
 long as there is a smallest chance on the other side, such chance 
 will form a conclusive reason g,gainst the committing the business 
 of penning the motion to any body else. 
 
 2. To save time. Between the penner and the author, where 
 they are different persons, a conversation of some sort must be 
 carried on. This conversation may, and frequently jnust, occa- 
 sion discussions and disputes. The sense of the author may be 
 perverted by accident or design : or, where no such perversion 
 takes place or was intended, it may be suspected. All this 
 whjle, business must be at a stand, and the assembly sitting to 
 no purpose. 
 
 Let it he of the mover's penning; and while he is about it, no 
 part of the assembly's time is taken up, He may have penned 
 it out of the house, and ought so to do whenever it can be done. 
 
 3. To promote maturity of composition. — If the author of a 
 motion is permitted to rely on a third person for the penning of 
 it, such permission will be liable to produce hasty indigested 
 motions, the ipipropriety of which the author himself, had he 
 beCin obliged to put them to writing, might have discovered. 
 Writing summons up the attention to apply itself to the dis- 
 course written, aijd furnishes it with a fixed subject. Whoever 
 in any instance, has corrected what he had once written, may 
 find, in that angle instance, a reason fully sufficient to justify the 
 establishment of this rule. 
 
 Question IV. Why in the very words in which, when made 
 an act of the assembly, it is proposed to stand 'i 
 
 Answer : 1 . Because no other terms can express, with the 
 certainty of being accurate, the object which the author of the 
 motion proposes to the House. The composition given as the 
 act of the assembly, is not really its act, any otherwise than as 
 far as it is the very composition which those, whose votes form 
 the decision of the assembly, have given their votes in favour of 
 If the discourse they had voted for differs, in a singlp word for 
 
IN THE BRITISH PARLIAMENT ILLUSTRATED. 131 
 
 example, from the discourse exhibited by the author of the mo- 
 tion, then, as to such word, it is not of his penning; which, as 
 has just been proved it ought to be. The only discourse they 
 can have meant to adopt, the only discourse they can all of them, 
 and from the beginning, have had under view, is, to a word, the 
 very discourse presented to them by the mover : if the resolu- 
 tion giveli ih their name by any one else — the secretary, for in- 
 stance, or the' president — differs frorti that original, in a single 
 word, it is, pro tanto, a forgery. 
 
 I say in a single, word: for every one knows, that in a sinsle 
 word may be comprised the most important alterations ; take for 
 instance, the word not. 
 
 Point III. — ■Unily of lite subject of debate kepi inviolate. 
 
 Question, with Answers exhibiting reasons. 
 
 Why not suffer a second proposition to be started (except as 
 excepted) till a former has been disposed of? 
 
 Answer : 1. That in the instance of such or such a particular 
 proposition, the assembly' may not, by indecision with respect to 
 that proposition, be prevented from taking a course which, had 
 its will lieen left free to exercise itself upon the subject, it would 
 have taken. 
 
 Tliis, we see, is' what may he at any time the case, if a propo- 
 sition, about which the assembly had begun to occupy itself is 
 thus permitted to' be jostled', as- it were, off the carpet, by another 
 proposition different from the fortner, and incommensurable with 
 it, before they are awarie. 
 
 2. To prevent a degree of confusion, by which, for that time 
 the assembly may' be deprived of the faculty of forming any will 
 at all. 
 
 Without some such check, nothing' is more likely to happen, 
 even without design ; and that in any assembly, much more in 
 a new-forriied and numerous one. And the' endeavour to pro- 
 duce such an effect by design, is one of the most effectual plans 
 that individual fraud or conspiracy can pursue. In this way a 
 thousand propositions may be thrown out, which, fiad the assem- 
 bly been left at liberty to occupy itself about them without in- 
 terruption — in short, had it been left' master of ifs own wlH, — 
 must have passed. 
 
 A proposition (suppose) has^been infrodirced: a debate arises, 
 and in the course of the debate something is started, from which 
 somebody catches, or pretends to catch, the idea of something else 
 that would be very proper to be done. This something else hap- 
 
132 THE FORMS OF PARLIAMENTARY PROCEDURE. 
 
 pening to touch upon a more sensible fibre, the next speaker 
 takes this for his theme. Affections grow warm, and crowding 
 about this second subject, the first is insensibly departed from 
 and forgotten. In the same manner, a third takes place of this 
 second ; and so on, till men's minds are effectually confused, and 
 their whole stock of time and patience gone. 
 
 This divergency is what is the more liable to take place in any 
 assembly, especially in any new-formed assembly, inasmuch as 
 it is what scarce ever fails to take place in private circles. In 
 this case, it is productive of no sort of harm : for amusement, 
 which, is here the end in view, is better provided for by ram- 
 bling freely from subject to subject, than by adhering to any one. 
 But in the case of a political assembly, it is productive of the ut- 
 most harm which such an assembly, as such, is capable of suffer- 
 ing. 
 
 The more eligible in its nature, and the more likely to have 
 been embraced by the assembly, any of these propositions may 
 be in themselves, the greater is the mischief that may result from 
 such an irregular introduction of it. Introduced singly, each at 
 its proper time, each one might have been carried : introduced, 
 one upon the back of the other, each stands in the other's way — 
 each throws another out, and a confusion is raised to which 
 they all of them fall a sacrifice at once. 
 
 Point IV. — The process of debating distinct from, and prior 
 to, that of voting. 
 
 Question, with Answers exhibiting reasons. 
 
 Why not allow any vote to be given till the debate is finishedl , 
 Answer: 1. That the decision given may not prove an impro- 
 per one, on the score of its having been built upon insufficient 
 and partial grounds. 
 
 To vote for or against a motion, is to judge — to exercise the 
 office of a judge : to speak for or against it, is to exercise the 
 function of an advocate. To vote before any one else has spoken 
 in the debate, is to judge altogether without documents — alto- 
 gether without grounds : to vote while there still remains any one 
 to speak, who has any thing to say, is to judge without documents 
 pro tanto. Is there any one member whose speech is to be looked 
 upon as proper to be attended to in this view! — so, for the same 
 reason, must that of every other : since, abstraction made of the 
 differences in point of talent between individuals— differences of 
 which no general rules can take cognizance, every man's speech 
 
JUDGES IN PARLIAMENT. 133 
 
 piresents just the same probability of affording useful lights, as 
 that of every other. 
 
 2. That the decision given may not be exposed to the danger 
 of proving an improper one, on the score of its being expressive 
 of a will different from the real vi\\\ of the majority of the assem- 
 bly. Conceive a list of members, speaking in a fixed order, and 
 each man giving his vote, as his turn comes, at the end of his 
 speech, or without making any speech, as he thinks fit. The 
 first upon the list, after having said what he thinks proper, gives 
 his vote ; all the others, down to the last, give their votes on the 
 same side. The last, when it comes to his turn, gives a contrary 
 vote, grounded on arguments which had happened to escape all 
 the preceding voters, but which, when once brought to light, 
 stamp conviction on their minds. What is the consequence 1 A 
 decision is given, purporting to want but one voice of being a 
 unanimous one : but, in fact, contrary to the unanimous will of 
 all the members whose decision it purports to be. — ii. 334-343. 
 
 JUDGES IN PARLIAMENT. 
 
 Power without obligation being the condition of parliamentary 
 service, a seat in parliament is no burden in any shape, nor creates 
 any demand upon a man for his time. A judge may be a mem- 
 ber of parliament for the same reason that a horse might be so. 
 Accordingly, the chancellor's subordinate, the master of the rolls, 
 the eight Welsh judges, and the masters in chancery, may all of 
 them have, and commonly have, many of them, seats in the House 
 of Commons. In English law, if you have an exception to a bad 
 rule, it is not for any good reason, but for a reason as irrational 
 as the rule. The twelve judges are shut out of tlje House of 
 Commons : — Why ■! because a man cannot serve in two places 
 at a time ? No : but because they are wanted to sit cooling their 
 heels, without opening their mouths, in the Hou?e of Lords. 
 The same reason should shut out the masters in chancery : bu 
 Chaos has granted them a dispensation. The same reason should 
 shut out the king's men among the mercenary lawyers ; but they 
 are wanted in the House of Commons as counsel for the minister : 
 to be judges and parties ; to sit in judgment as members, over 
 their own conduct as king's lawyers ; to prevent the amendment 
 of the law ; and to sell their constituents, whom they pay, to the 
 crown, by whom they are paid. 
 
 Exceptions were taken when a horse was consul ; there could be 
 12 
 
134 JUDGES IN PARLIAMENT. 
 
 none against his being a lord. It is beyond comparison better that 
 a horse should have a voice in that house, than that a judge should. 
 A horse-lord, present or absent, vifould be as capable of doing duty 
 in the house as another lord, when attending at the opera or the 
 gaming-table, or making the grand tour. A horse-lord, under the 
 switch of the king's riding-master, would be as capable of giving 
 a proxy, as another lord under the wand of the king's chamberlain. 
 Neighing in that house would not make a horse the worse for 
 riding ; but sitting and voting there makes a judge very much the 
 worse for judging. If a horse contracted partialities, he would not 
 trot the worse for it : when a judge exposes himself to similar 
 suspicions, he judges very much the worse, or is thought to do so, 
 which comes exactly to the same thing. Custom, which sanctifies 
 all absurdities, custom alone could reconcile men to the sight of a 
 man holding at the same time a plqce in the court appealed from, 
 and another in the court appealed to ; judging under one name 
 what he has been doing under another. The plea is, that he may 
 be there to defend his decrees : as if a man could not be heard as 
 a defendant, without voting as a judge. Who is there that does 
 not remember when the nation was kept for years in a ferment, 
 justice become odious, good judicature traduced, and bad judica- 
 ture painted worse, because a great man, who had one foot on the 
 bench, had another in the house, and was delivering, sometimes 
 in the one place, sometimes in another, doctrines supposed to have 
 been learnt in the king's bedchamber 1* By degrees it is settled 
 into a rule, that not only the chancellor shall have a peerage, but 
 that the same feather shall be stuck into the caps of the two chiefs 
 in the courts of King's Bench and Common Pleas. Ere long it 
 will get down to the Exchequer, that Westminster Hall may not 
 contain a single bench undefiled by politics. When you have put 
 your judge into the house, the greatest eulogium you can bestow 
 upon him is, that he might as well be any where else, for any thing 
 that he does there. You plunge him head over ears into tempta- 
 tion, and your hope is, that he will not be soiled by it. If this 
 be wisdom, put your daughter to board in Drury Lane to teach 
 her chastity. Why, then, this incongruity ■! Because, such is 
 the presumption of the trader in mercenary justice, such the 
 ascendant of talents, strengthened by wayward industry, over 
 faculties debilitated by hereditary idleness, and such the dominion 
 which lawyer-craft has planted in the ignorance and prejudices 
 of public men, that the highest seat in judicature is too low for 
 
 * In allusion lo Lord Mansfield. — Ed. 
 
WHEN SHOULD JUSTICE SLEEP. 135 
 
 him: nor will he stoop to sit in it, unless bribed by a second and 
 still higher station, which can have no other effect than that of 
 unfitting him for the first. — iv. 380-381. 
 
 WHEN SHOULD JUSTICE SLEEP. 
 
 If there were a time of the year, a proper time, for justice to 
 sleep, when would it be? When injustice does. 
 
 When is the time for the shepherd to keep holiday ? When 
 the wolf does. When is the time for the mother and the nurse 
 to keep holiday ? When the infant can live without sustenance. 
 When is the time for the physician and the surgeon to keep 
 holiday? When there are neither diseases nor accidents. 
 
 The ancient Romans, being pagans, and as such superstitious, 
 had their dies fasti, and their dies nefasti: days in which jus- 
 tice was to be done, and days in which it was not to be done; 
 day.? in which it was lawful, and days in which it was not law- 
 ful, to do justice. 
 
 The primitive Christians, a whimsical set of people, when 
 they came into power took it into their heads, evidently out of 
 a spirit of opposition, to "administer justice upon all days 
 alike." In the eyes of Blackstone, neither of these courses 
 coinciding with existing practice, both it seems were wrong: 
 the dies fasti and nefasti made an extreme; and justice upon all 
 days alike, a sort of confusion of all order, made " a contrary 
 extreme." 
 
 , " Profanation," the wickedest of all wicked things, broke out 
 in different /shapes: administering justice upon all days alike, 
 was one of them. Among other sins of the primitive Chris- 
 tians, " holy church," when it came into power, took this pro- 
 fanation in hand to correct it. Taking into consideration five 
 holy seasons. Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter, and Pentecost, 
 it beheld in them so many reasons for four intervening vaca- 
 tions — so many reasons for being months together without so 
 much as pretending to administer justice. Of the necessity of 
 the three short vacations, considering that holy mother church 
 was at that time a papist, Blackstone seems to have entertained 
 a sort of half-disclosed suspicion: but, as to the long vacation, a 
 season so comfortable to lawyers, with that he seems to have 
 been completely satisfied. Here, to the general spiritual rea- 
 sons, he adds a temporal one: a reason which, if good in those 
 days of popery, is certainly not less good in these days of refor- 
 mation: this is the demand presented for denial of justice, by 
 the " hay-time and harvest." 
 
136 JUDICIAL ATTENDANCE. 
 
 Accordingly, certainly in the eyes of holy mother church, 
 and, as it should seem, in those of Blackstone — should it have 
 happened to a man to have his carts and his horses unjustly 
 taken from him, and thereupon to apply to a judge to have them 
 back again, — the application would have been an unreasonable 
 one, contrary to the interests of agriculture. What, is the mat- 
 ter with the man? What use can he have for his horses or his 
 carts? Does not he know that it is harvest time? — Such would 
 be the speech of Mother Church's and Mother Blackstone's 
 judges. 
 
 Such is the cogency of this reason, that, in the city of London 
 courts, whose jurisdiction ends before fields begin, long vacations 
 are kept up no less religiously than in Westminster Hall. Not 
 to speak of the profanation, care was taken not to call off the 
 harvest-men from their labours in Cheapside. — vii. 241-242. 
 
 JUDICIAL ATTENDANCE. 
 
 Laity were made for clergy: suitors for lawyers: — constituents 
 for representatives: — colonists for those who lord it over the mo- 
 ther country: — beasts were created for the use of man. Bear 
 these maxims in mind, and you may account with unerring con- 
 fidence for whatever you see at this moment on British ground 
 in the church, the law, the House of Commons, or the stable. 
 
 If parturition could have been bid to wait, or a hemorrhage to 
 stop flowing, from Trinity term to Michaelmas, surgeons as well 
 3s lawyers might have had their long vacation. Unfortunately, 
 the surgeon cannot say to the wounded traveller, " Lie bleeding 
 there till my amusement is at an end; and luxury has given place 
 to avarice." Loss of life to the patient would be loss of fee to 
 the surgeon, and surgeons are at the call of patients all days in 
 the year, and all hours of the day. Had laws been planned by 
 suitors without lawyers, law would no more have sacrificed the 
 suitor to the lawyer, than nature has sacrificed the patient to the 
 surgeon. We have been bidden to believe, that harvest was 
 the cause why there is no justice in autumn: as if the time when 
 the implements of husbandry are most wanted, were the time 
 when the owner could best bear to be despoiled of them. 
 
 We have had in England perpetual clubs oi good-fellows: that 
 so good a thing as good-fellowship might never cease. We have 
 had perpetual clubs of prayers: that omniscience might not for a 
 moment be kept in want of information. Is it pardonable to have 
 imagined, in the way of vision, the equivalent of a perpetual club 
 
AN ILLUSTRATION OF RAPID JUSTICE. 137 
 
 of j udges? Something not absolutely unlike it is said to exist in 
 the metropolis, under the name of the Rotation-office. But these 
 are magistrates, who, in contradistinction to those who get more 
 by the trade, are styled trading justices: and a thief will not al- 
 ways wait, as honest men may be made to do. — iv. 378-379. 
 
 THE LAW'S DELAY. 
 
 In the one case, there is a straight road of a mile long, and 
 without a turnpike in it: in the other case, you may go to, or at 
 least towards, the same place by a road of a hundred miles in 
 length — full, accordingly, of turnings and windings — full, more- 
 over, of quicksands and pit-falls, and equally full of turnpikes. 
 In conducting the traveller, nothing obliges the conductors to 
 avoid the straight road,' and drag him along the crooked one; nor 
 would they ever have given themselves any such trouble, had it 
 not been for the turnpikes, the tolls of which are so regularly 
 settled, and the tills in such good keeping: — learned feet, could 
 they be prevailed on, are no less capable of treading the short 
 road than unlearned ones. — v. 24. - , 
 
 AN ILLUSTRATION OF RAPID JUSTICE. 
 
 An occurrence that happened not many years ago — one of a 
 thousand that are happening every year — may help to place in 
 broader light the two companion pictures of real justice in her 
 native vigour, and .s/jiiw justice in her strait-waistcoat. — A man 
 dropped out of his pocket bank-notes to the amount of about 
 dS500. They were found by another man, who, being poor and 
 illiterate, was unconscious of the value of his prize. The value 
 opening to him by degrees, he fell into negotiations with Jews 
 and Gentiles, and disposed of it, or a part of it, at an under-value. 
 It was a case for trover: out of the multitude of instances in 
 which the action so denominated is brought, one of the very few 
 in which it can be brought without a lie. No one to make oath 
 of felony, or cause of suspicion of felony. No felony, therefore 
 no legal ground for examination by a justice of the peace. But 
 among unlearned judges in general, and among those of the Lon- 
 don police in particular, strange as it may seem to learned ones, 
 there does exist a sort of principle or whim, whatever be the pro- 
 per name for it, called the love of justice. It is by this principle, 
 
 12* 
 
138 AN ILLUSTRATION OF RAPID JUSTICE. 
 
 or this whim, that they are led, on such a variety of occasions, to 
 " do good by stealth," — your lordship* will see how: and as they 
 never find it " fame," that being a monopoly in the hands of their 
 learned betters, whatever is done by them in that way, is without 
 any expense to any body in the article of " blushes." In the par- 
 ticular instance in question, at the Queen Square Police-office, 
 Mr. Colquhoun, hearing of the loss, took the business in hand: 
 and, laying about him, with his so well-known activity, in this 
 irregular way — hitting the mark by pushing in quart, where 
 learning would have missed it by pushing in tierce — got back 
 for the loser his £500, except a small part that had been spent. 
 From link to link, he followed up the chain of information, as 
 if it had been by an examination, carried on under the statute 
 in a case of felony. Warrant none, there being no legal ground 
 for any such coercive instrument: no witness convened but by 
 a summons; to which, had the impotence of the technical sys- 
 tem, to this, as well as so many other good purposes, been 
 known, no regard would have been paid. Fortunately for jus- 
 tice, poverty, or simplicity, or terror, withheld the confederates, 
 one and all, from applying to an attorney. If justice be a friend 
 to man, the omission was fortunate: since it is to that she owes 
 that technical judicature, or its terrors, did not tie up her hands. 
 All the learning in Westminster Hall, armed by all its power, 
 would not have got for the man a single farthing of this £500. 
 The finder, with the money in his pocket, would have moved off, 
 or spent it, or shifted it from hand to hand. To the loser, the best 
 thing that could have happened would have been, to be apprised 
 in the Jirst instance of the impossibility of recovering the money, 
 and so to have sitten down quietly with the loss. Another 
 result would have been, the cpmmenping the action, and for 
 want of that power of investigation which in a civil case tech- 
 nical procedure does not give, suffering a nonsuit, or judg- 
 ment as in case of a nonsuit, with three or four or five score 
 pound to pay, for costs on both sides. Another, and still 
 •worte misfortune, would have been the getting a verdict, 
 and thereupon, by a sort of a vehicle called a writ of error, 
 find himself set down, and then hung up, in a place called the 
 Exchequer chamber, where he would have had a year to cool 
 his heels, while the finder was spending or securing the re- 
 mainder of the £500: — deducting, inter alia, for merit crowned 
 with learning and nobility, a slight retribution, of which Lord 
 Ellenborough can give your lordship a jjiuch more particular 
 
 * Lord Grenville, 
 
PDBLICITY IN COURTS OF JUSTICE. 1 39 
 
 account, than it is in my power to do at my humble distance. — 
 V. 37-38. 
 
 PUBLICITY IN COURTS OP JUSTICE. 
 
 Publicity is the very soul of justice. It is the l^eenest spur to 
 exertion, and the surest of all guards against impropriety. It 
 keeps the judge himself; while trying, under trial. Under the 
 auspices of publicity, t-he cause in the court of law, and the ap- 
 peal to the court of public opinion, are going on at the same 
 time. So many by-standers as an unrighteous judge, or rather 
 a judge who would otherwise be unrighteous, beholds attending 
 in his court, so many Witnesses he sees of hid unrighteousness, 
 so many condemning judges, so many ready executions, and so 
 many industrious proclaimers of his sentence. By publicity, the 
 court of law, to which his judgment is appealed from, is secured 
 against any want of evidence of his guilt. It is through publicity 
 alone that justice becomes the mother of security. By publicity, 
 the temple of justice is converted into a school of the first order, 
 where the most important branches of morality are enforced, by 
 the most impressive means : — into a theatre, where the sports of 
 the imagination give place to the more interesting exhibitions of 
 real life. 
 
 Nor is publicity legs auspicious to the veracity of the witness, 
 than to the probity of the judge. Environed as he sees himself 
 by a thousand eyes, contradiction, should he hazard a false tale, 
 will seem ready to rise up in opposition to it from a thousand 
 mouths. Many a known face, and every unknown countenance, 
 presents to him a possible source of detection, from whence the 
 truth he is struggling to suppress may, through some unsuspected 
 connexion, burst forth to his confusion. 
 
 Without publicity, all other checks are fruitless : in comparison 
 with publicity, all other checks are of small account. It is to 
 publicity, more than to every thing else put together, that the 
 English system of procedure owes its being the least bad system 
 as yet extant, instead of being the worst. It is for want of this 
 essential principle, more than any thing else, that the well-meant 
 labours of Frederick and Catharine in the field of justice have 
 fallen so far short of the mark at which they aimed. Division 
 and subordination of judicial powers are no otherwise a guard to 
 probity, than in aa far as the chance of disagreement and alter- 
 cation presents a faint chance of occasional publicity. Appeals 
 
1 40 EXCLUSION OF PARTIES FROM COURTS OF JUSTICE. 
 
 without publicity serve only to lengthen the dull and useless 
 course of despotism, procrastination, precipitation, caprice, anc" 
 negligence.' — iv. 316-317. 
 
 UNPROMULGATED LAWS. 
 
 Every law insufficiently promulgated, is an act ,of tyranny as 
 towards all those in whose conception and remembrance, by rea- 
 son of such insufficiency, it fails to have implanted itself. 
 
 Nebuchadnezzar dreamed a dream : he told it to his wise men, 
 and said to them, tell me what it was, and what it signified. 
 Those whose interpretation did not satisfy him were put to death. 
 A specimen this, sufficiently strong, one should have thought, of 
 Oriental tyranny. But the men thus called upon to interpret 
 mystery, were select men — men selected for their wisdom. The 
 Nebuchadnezzars of modern times impose a still more difficult 
 task — and upon whom ■! Upon all mankind without distinction : 
 and, in this case as in that, not the meaning of the dream, but 
 the very dream itself, is the mystery they are called upon to di- 
 vine. — vi. 519. * 
 
 EXCLUSION OP PARTIES PROM COURTS OF JUSTICE. 
 
 Whenever it happened that, in the transaction of the business, 
 the party, the client, was himself present, as well as the profes- 
 sional lawyer, his assistant, — the presence of a person whose in- 
 terest it was, that, of the business for which he was to pay, not 
 more should be done than was necessary to his purpose, operated 
 as a check to the exertions of the partnership in that part of their 
 industry which consisted in the art of making business. Both 
 parties felt themselves stimulated, by the strongest and most con- 
 stantly acting interest, to make every exertion for the removal 
 of so troublesome an obstacle. An iniquity so glaring, so repug- 
 nant to the most obvious ends and perpetually recurring princi- 
 ples of justice, so opposite to the practice of every man that ever 
 lived, in every case in which he had the discovery of truth really 
 at heart, could not in any country be the work of a moment. In 
 England in particular, it cost several centuries to bring this part 
 of the system of exclusion to the perfection in which it exists at 
 present. 
 
 To make a direct rule of court, saying, in so many words, No 
 
LEGAL QUIBBLES. 141 
 
 suitor shall J)e allowed to transact, or join in the transaction, of 
 his own business — no suitor shall ever be admitted into the pre- 
 sence of the judge, or of any of the officers acting under the 
 direction of the judge, — would have been too monstrous. The 
 resource was, so to torment and vex the suitor by delays and 
 fruitless attendances, as to make him regard the faculty of saving 
 himself from this torment as a special, grace and favour. 
 
 No system can ever be made so absurd or atrocious, as to ap- 
 pear so to the bulk of those who are born under it; much less to 
 those who are paid for upholding it. In Mexico, human victims 
 were understood to be an acceptable fee, human blood a bonne 
 bouc/ie, to the supernatural and immortal judge. In England, 
 so late as the seventeenth century, duelling was regarded as the 
 surest mode of obtaining his judgment: and, in the presence of 
 his natural and mortal deputies, champions were, as attorneys 
 and barristers still are, regarded as being, on many occasions, 
 elligible subtitutes to parties and -witnesses. — vii. 202. 
 
 A LITIGANT PERSONALLY APPEAEING IN COURT. 
 
 Aniio 1821, lived abroken botanist and ex-nurseryman named 
 Salisbury. To distinguish him from a namesake of the gentle- 
 man-class, Salisbury minor is the name he goes by among the 
 Fancy. At the end of a series of vicissitudes, he had sunk into 
 one of those sinks of misfortune, in which, to help to pamper 
 over-fed judges, debtors are squeezed by jailers, out of the sub- 
 stance that should go to creditois. As from Smithfield an over- 
 driven ox into a china-shop — breaking loose one day from his 
 tormentors, Salisbury minor found means, somehow or other, 
 to break into one of the great Westminster-hall shops; in which, 
 as often as a demand comes for the article so mis-called justice, 
 bad goods are so dearly sold to all who can come up to the price, 
 and denied, of course, to those who. cannot. The china-shop 
 scene ensued. Surprised and confounded, the shopmen ex- 
 hibited that sort of derangement, which the French express by 
 loss of head — ils out perdu la tele. — v. 359. 
 
 LEGAL QUIBBLES. 
 
 The attorney (say of the plaintiflF) is supposed to have written 
 some word wrong: for this impropriety, real or pretended, if real, 
 
142 
 
 LEGAL aUIBBLES. 
 
 intended or unintended, his client, the plaintiff, is made to lose 
 his cause. If the case be of the number of those in which, in 
 conjunction with the individual, the condition of the public at 
 large is considered as suffering, as in the case of robbery and 
 murder — of those in which the evil diffuses itself through the 
 public at large, without infringing on any one individual more 
 than another, as in the case of an offence affecting the revenue, — 
 in either of these cases, it is the public that thus, for the act of 
 the individual, is made to suffer: to the guilty individual, im- 
 punity is thus dealt out: to the not guilty individual, or public, 
 groundless sufferings. 
 
 In the expression by which, upon any operation or instrument, 
 nullification is pronounced, employment given to a sort of fiction 
 is involved. One operation which has been performed is spoken 
 of as if it had not been performed: the instrument which has 
 been brought into existence is spoken of as not having had ex- 
 istence: at any rate, things are put, and professed to be put, into 
 the state in which they would have been, had no such operation, 
 no such instrument, had place. Amidst instances of mendacity 
 so much more -flagrant, scarcely would such a one as this have 
 been worth noticing: but for exemplification and explanation of 
 the effects, this mention of it may be not without its use. An 
 offender, for example, has been brought to trial, and conviction 
 has ensued: in the instrument of accusation, (say the indiclmenl,) 
 one of those _^aws, manufactured perhaps for the purpose, has 
 been discovered: in consequence of the observation, arrest of 
 judgment, as the phrase is,has been pronounced. What is the con- 
 sequence? Whatever has been done is to be considered as if it 
 had not been done: information which has been elicited, is to be 
 considered as not having been eUcited: evidence, by which the 
 fact of the delinquency has been put completely out of doubt, 
 having been elicited, and with perfect accuracy committed to 
 writing, is to be considered as never having had existence. 
 ********* 
 
 Because a word has been misspelt by a copying clerk, a con- 
 victed murderer, for example, walks out of court, under the eyes 
 of his deliverer and accessary after the fact — the quibble-sanction- 
 ing judge — to commit ulterior murders. Throughout the whole 
 field of penal law, of nullification pronounced on the proceedings 
 on grounds foreign to the merits, this according to the general 
 rule, and expressed in the language of Roman law by the words 
 non bis in idem, is the effect. Needlessly promotive of guilt as this 
 rule would be in any case; it would not be near so amply so as it 
 is, were it not for the blind fixation principle, applied todays, as 
 above. Endless is the variety of accidents — endless the variety 
 
LEGAL JARGON. 143 
 
 of contrivances — by any one of which a necessary witness may 
 be kept from being forthcoming at the day and within the hour 
 prescribed; while on a circuit, the judges, with their et cseteras, 
 are circumgirating, as if by steam, on a wheel without a drag. 
 
 Humanity, that humanity which has penny wisdom for its 
 counsellor, that humanity which can see the one object under its 
 nose, but not the hundred of the like objects at a few rods dis- 
 tance, applauds the impunity given in this case: consistency 
 would, if listened to, extend the impunity to all other cases : then 
 would society fall to pieces : and in Blackstone's phrase, every 
 thing would be as it should be. — v. 478-479. 
 
 LEGAL JARGON. 
 
 Every sham science, of which there are so many, makes to 
 itself a jargon, to serve for a cover to its nothingness, and, if 
 wicked, to its wickedness: alchymy, palmistry, magic, judicial 
 astrology, technical jurisprudence. To unlicens^ depredators, 
 their own technical language, the cant or flash language, is of 
 use, not only as a cover, but as a bond of union. Lawyers' cant, 
 besides serving them as a cover and as a bond of union, serves 
 them as an instrument, an iron crow or a pick-lock key, for col- 
 lecting plunder in cases in which otherwise it could not be col- 
 lected : for applying the principle of nullification, in many a case 
 in which it could not otherwise have been applied. 
 
 The best of all good old times, was when the fate of English- 
 men was disposed of in French, and in a something that was called 
 Latin. For having been once in use, language, however, is not 
 much the worse, so it be of use no longer. The antiquated no- 
 tation of time suffices of itself to throw a veil of mystery over the 
 system of procedure. Martin and Hilary, saints forgotten by 
 devotees, are still of use to lawyers. How many a man has been 
 ruined, because his lawyer made a mistake, designed or unde- 
 signed. In reckoning by the almanack ! First of January, second 
 of January, and so forth, — where is the science there 1 Not a 
 child of four years old that does not understand it. Octaves, 
 quindecims, and morrows of All Souls, St. Martin, St. Hilary, the 
 Purification, Easter day, the Ascension, and the Holy Trinity ; 
 Essoign day, day of Exception, Retorna Brevium day, day of 
 Appearance — alias Quarto die post — alias Dies amoris,- there 
 you have a science. Terms — Michaelmas, Hilary, Easter, and 
 Trinity, each of *hem about thirty days, no one of them more 
 
144 LEGAL JARGON. 
 
 than one day ; there you have not only a science, but a mystery: 
 do as the devils do, believe and tremble. 
 
 Jargon pregnant with misconception, is better than jargon 
 preservative of simple ignorance. The sense of subjection, the 
 humiliation, the self-distrust, the despair, on the part of the non- 
 lawyer, the client, the suitor, is more complete. 
 
 Jargon which takes a word that is in every man's mouth, and 
 uses it in a sense in which no man ever used it, is better than a 
 jargon made out of foreign, antiquated, technical, or other hard 
 words. Every man knows what common means: most men 
 even know what it means when opposed to special, and applied 
 to a jury. Apply it now to bail, and take order about bail, you 
 know how. — Creditor. My debtor is going off: he must be 
 held to bail. — Lawyer. That he is already. — Creditor. Who 
 are they] — Lawyer. Common bail; John Doe, and Richard 
 Roe. — Applied to bail, common signifies none. (You wil Inot 
 forget to charge for these buckram bail, as if they were real ones.) 
 Besides the profit, there is a degree of fun in this. You pick 
 men's pockets, while you laugh at them for their patience. Kick 
 them, or spit in' their faces, you cannot ; because it is a rule with 
 you never to see their faces : but this comes next to it. 
 
 The more pointed and solemn the assurance given, the better; 
 so it be but violated. 
 
 There was genius in writing word to a man. Appear before 
 me on such a day, — and then punishing him for appearing ac- 
 cordingly, instead of employing an attorney. There was still 
 more genius in saying, Appear in person, and then punishing him 
 as before. He had learnt that when a lawyer says, appear, what 
 he means by it is extortion or deceit : but seeing such words 
 added as personal, or in person, he thought he might trust them 
 for once ; that it was their intention for once to be sincere. He 
 took it for a flag of truce : but, so savage is the hostility of this 
 coalition, there is no trusting to its flags of truce. 
 
 Advice to lawyers : — When non-lawyers plague you (as now 
 and then they will) about reforms, and something must be done 
 to quiet them, they can never refuse you a hand in the business; 
 and it will be your part to take care that what is done shall be 
 to little or no purpose. When you have done what can be done 
 towards spoiling the plan, you make your mock at it: you throw 
 ridicule on that reform, and through that on all reforms, and 
 so you have your revenge. Thus Blackstone triumphed, when, 
 upon the translation of the lawyer's dog-Latin scriptures into 
 a sort of English, the darkness was but the more visible. — vii. 
 282-283. 
 
LAW AS IT IS, AND AS IT IS SAID TO BE. 145 
 
 LAW AS IT IS, AND AS IT IS SAID TO BE. 
 
 AsHHuRST.* — No man is so low as not to be within the law's 
 protection. 
 
 Truth. — Ninety-nine men out of a hundred are thus low. 
 Every man is, who has not from five-and-twenty pounds to five- 
 and-twenty times five-and-twenty pounds to sport with, in order 
 to take his chance for justice. I say chance : remembering how 
 great a chance it is, that, although his right be as clear as the 
 sun at noon-day, he loses it by a quibble. Five-and-twenty 
 pounds is less than a common action can be carried through for, 
 at the cheapest, and five times five-and-twenty pounds goes but 
 a little way in what they call a court of equity^ Five-and- 
 twenty pounds, at the same time, is more than three times what 
 authors reckon a man's 'income at in this country, old and 
 young, male and female, rich and poor, taken together :t and 
 this is the game a man has to play again and again, as often as 
 he is involved in a dispute, or receives an injury. 
 
 As if law were not yet dear enough — as if there were not men 
 enough trodden down " so low as not to be within its protection" 
 session after session, the King is made to load the proceedings 
 with taxes, denying justice to all who have not withal to pay 
 them : all this in the teeth of Magna Charta. " We will deny 
 justice," says King John ; " we will sell justice to no man." 
 This was the wicked King John. How does the good King 
 George? He denies it to ninety-nine men out of a hundred, and 
 sells it to the hundredth. 
 
 The lies and nonsense the law is stuffed with, form so thick 9, 
 mist, that a plain man, nay, even a man of sense and learning, 
 who is not in the trade, can see neither through nor into it : and, 
 though they were to give him leave to plead his own or his 
 friend's cause, (which they won't do in nine cases out often,) he 
 would not be able to open his mouth for want of having bestowed 
 the " twenty years' lucubrations"\ which they owned were ne- 
 
 * The Phamphlet from which these passages are extracted, is a run. 
 ning commentary on a charge delivered on the 19th November, 1792, to 
 the Grand'Jur; of Middlesex, by Sir William Ashhurst, one of the puisne 
 judges of the King's Bench. It was not published until the year 1823, 
 when it was accidentally discovered among the author's papers. — Ed, 
 
 t Davenant, quoted in Smith's " Wealth of Nations." 
 
 T Blackstone's Commentaries, Introduction. ' 
 13 
 
146 LAW AS IT IS, AND AS IT IS SAID TO BE. 
 
 cessary to enable a man to see to the bottom of it, and that when 
 there was not a twentieth part in it of what there is at present. 
 When an action, for example, is brought against a man, how 
 do you think they contrive to give him notice to defend him- 
 self r* Sometimes he is" told that he is in jail— sometimes that, 
 he is lurking up and down the country, in company with a va- 
 gabond' of the name of Doe ; though all the while he is sitting 
 quietly by his own fire-side : and this my Lord Chief Justice sets 
 his hand to. At other times, they write to a man who lives in 
 Cumberland or Cornwall, and tell him that if he does not appear 
 in Westminster Hall on a certain day, he forfeits a hundred 
 pounds. When he comes, so far from having any thing to say 
 to him, they won't hear him ; for all they want him for, is to 
 grease their fingers. 
 
 That's Law : and now you shall see Equity. Have you a 
 question to ask the defendant ? (for no' court of law will so much 
 as let you ask him whether his hand- writing be his own) you 
 must begin by telling him how the matter stands, though your 
 very reason for asking him is your not knowing. How fares it 
 with Truth all this while? Commanded or forbidden, according 
 as a man is plaintiff or defendant. If you are a defendant, and 
 tell lies, you are punished for it ; if you are plaintiff, and will 
 will not tell lies, you lose your cause.t They won't so much as 
 send a question to be tried by a Jury, till they have made you 
 say you have laid a wager about it, though wagers they tell you, 
 are illegal. This is a finer sort of law they call equity — a dis- 
 tinction as unheard-of out of England, as it is useless here to 
 every purpose but that of delaying justice; and plundering those 
 who sue for it. 
 
 Have you an estate to sell ? Sometimes you must acknow- 
 ledge it to belong to somebody else ; sometimes see it taken from 
 you by the Judges, who give it to somebody else, with an order 
 upon the crier of the court to give you such another :| though, 
 had it been given to your heirs for ever, you might have sold it 
 without all this trouble. Is this specimen to your mind, my 
 countrymen'? The law is the same all over. Enemies to truth, 
 because truth is so to them, they do what in them lies to banish 
 her from the lips and from the hearts of the whole people. 
 
 * In allusion to the fictions employed in the practice of the courts be- 
 fore the passing of the Act for Dniforinity of Process. — Ed. 
 
 + The rule is, that every interrogatory must have a charge to support 
 it, in which a man is obliged to assert, at random, whatever he wants to 
 know. 
 
 X In allusion to the system of Fines and Recoveries, abolished by the 
 3 & 4 Wm. IV. c. 74. 
 
LAW AS IT IS, AND AS IT IS SAID TO BE. 147 
 
 Not an atom of this rubbish will they ever suffer to be cleared 
 away. How can you expect they should t It serves them as a 
 fence to keep out interlopers. 
 
 AsHHDRST. — The law of this country only lays such restraints 
 on the actions of individuals as are necessary for the safety and 
 good order of the community at large. 
 
 Tbdth. — I sow corn : partridges eat it ; and if I attempt to 
 defend it against the partridges, I am fined, or sent to jail : all 
 this, for fear a great man, who is above sowing corn, should be 
 In want of partridges. 
 
 The trade I was born to is overstocked : hands are wanting in 
 another. If I offer to work at that other, I may be sent to jail 
 for ii. Why "i Because I have not been working at it as an 
 a^irentice for seven years. What's the consequence 1 That, as 
 there is no work for me in my original trade, I must either come 
 upon the parish, or starve. 
 
 There is no employment for me in my own parish : there is 
 abundance in the next. Yet if I offer to go there, I am driven 
 away. Why ? Because I might become unable to work one of 
 these days, and so I must not work while I am able. I am 
 thrown upon one parish now, for fear I should fall upon another, 
 forty or fifty years hence. At this rate how is work ever to get 
 done ■? If a man is not poor he won't work : and if he is poor the 
 - laws won't let him. How then is it that so much is done as is 
 done ? As pockets are picked — by stealth, and because the law is 
 so wicked that it is only here and there that a man can be found 
 wicked enough to fhink of executing it.* 
 
 Pray, Mr. Justice, how is the community you speak of the 
 better for any of these restraints? And where is the necessity of 
 them ? and how is safely strengthened, or good order benefited 
 by them 1 
 
 AsmroRST. — Happily for its, we are not bound by any laws but 
 such as every man has the means of knowing. 
 
 In other words : — 
 1 Every man has the means of knowing all the laws he is bound 
 by. 
 
 * The defects here alladed to have been materially amended by the Poor- 
 Law Amendment Act, and other measures. — Ed. 
 
148 LAW AS IT IS, AND AS IT IS SAID TO BE. 
 
 Truth. — Scarce any man has the means of knowing a twentieth 
 part of the laws he is bound by. Both sorts of law are kept most 
 happily and carefully from the knowledge of the people : statute 
 law by its shape and bulk ; common law by its very essence. 
 It is the Judges (as we have seen) that make the common law. 
 Do you know how they make it ? Just as a man makes laws for 
 his. dog. When your dog does any thing you want to break him 
 of, you wait till he does it, and then beat him for it. This is the 
 way you make laws for your dog: and this is the way the 
 Judges make law for you and me. They won't tell a man before- 
 hand what it is he should not do— they won't so much as allow 
 of his being told : they lie by till he has done something which 
 they say he should not have done, and then they hang him for it. 
 What way, then, has any man of coming at this dog-law 1 
 Only by watching their proceedings : by observing in what cases 
 they have hanged a man, in what cases they have sent him to 
 jail, in what cases they have seized his goods, and so forth. 
 These proceedings they won't publish themselves ; and if any 
 body else publishes them, it is what they call a contempt of court, 
 and a man may be sent to jail for it* 
 
 If, then, you can be in the four Westminster Hall courts, and 
 the twelve circuit courts, and a hundred other such places at 
 once — if you can hear every thing, aind forget nothing — if the 
 whole kingdom can squeeze itself into a place contrived on pur- 
 pose, that it may hold none but lawyers — if it can live in those 
 places for ever, and has always lived in them, — the "whole 
 kingdom " may have that knowledge which Mr. Justice says it 
 has of the law ; and then it will have no further difficulty, than 
 to guess what inference the Judge or Judges will make from all 
 this knowledge in each case. 
 
 Counsellors, who have nothing better to do, watch these cases 
 as well as they can, and set them down in their note-hooks to make 
 trade of them; and so, if you want to know whether a bargain 
 you want to make, for example, will stand good, you must go 
 with a handful of guineas in your hand, and give half of them to 
 an attorney for him to give t'other half to a counsellor ; and, 
 when he has told you all is right, out comes a counsellor of the 
 other side with a case of his own taking which his brother knew 
 nothing of, which shows you were in the wrong box, and so you 
 lose your money. Some of them, to drive a penny, run the risk 
 of being sent to jail, and publish their note-books which they 
 call reports. But this is as it happens, and a Judge hears a case 
 
 * Burrows' Reports. Preface. 
 
LAW AS IT IS, AND AS IT IS SAID TO BE. 149 
 
 out of one of these report books, or says it is good for nothing 
 and forbids it to be spoken of, as he pleases. 
 
 How should plain men know what is law when Judges cannot 
 tell what it is themselves? More than a hundred years ago, Lord 
 Chief Justice Hale had the honesty to confess he could not so 
 much as tell what t^ft was; which however did not prevent his 
 hanging men for theft.* There was then no statute law to tell 
 us what is, or what is not, theft: no more is there to this day: 
 and so it is with murder and libel; and a thousand other things; 
 particularly the things that are of the most importance. 
 
 "Miserable," says that great Lord Coke, " miserable is the 
 slavery of that people among whom the law is either unsettled 
 or unknown." Which, then, do you think is the sort of law, 
 which the whole host of lawyers, frofti Coke himself down to 
 Blackstone, have been trumpeting in preference? That very 
 sort of bastard law I have been describing to you, which they 
 themselves call the vnwritten law, which is no more made than 
 it is written, which has not so much as a shape to appear in, 
 not so rhuch as a word which any body can say belongs to it, 
 which is every where and nowhere, which come from nobody 
 and is addressed to nobody, and which, so long as it is what it 
 is, can never, by any possibility, be either known or settled. 
 
 How should lawyers be otherwise than fond of this brat of 
 their own begetting? or how should they bear to part with it? It 
 carries in its hand a rule of wax which they twist about as they 
 please — a hook to lead the people by the nose, and a pair of 
 shears to fleece them with. 
 
 The French have had enough of this dog-law; they are turn- 
 ing it as fast as they can into statute law, that every body may 
 have a rule to go by: nor do they ever make a law, without do- 
 ing all they can think of to let every creature among them know 
 of it The French have done many abominable things, but is 
 
 this one of them? 
 
 ********** 
 
 Now I will tell you my dear countrymen, what Mr. Justice 
 knows better things than to tell you; how it is, that what he 
 would make you believe about everij man being his own lawyer 
 might be made true. If what there is good of common law were 
 turned into statute: if what is common in both to every class of 
 persons were put into one great book, (it need not be a very 
 great one) and what is particular to this and that class of per- 
 sons were made into so many little books, so that every man 
 
 » Hale's Pleas of the Crown : title larceny. 
 13* 
 
150 MANUPACTORB OP LAW BY THE ENGLISH COURTS. 
 
 should have what belongs to him apart, without being loaded 
 with what does not belong to him. If the general law-book were 
 read through* in churches, and put into boys' hands, and made 
 into exercises when they are at school ; and if every boy when 
 he came of age were to produce a copy of it written with his own 
 hand before he were allowed a vote or any other privilege ; and 
 if this general law-book contained a com^te list of the parti- 
 cular ones, and measures were taken for putting them, and each 
 of them into each man's hand, as soon as the occasion happened 
 which gave him a concern in it. 
 
 But then the matter of these law-books must be made up into 
 sentences of moderate length, such as men use in common con- 
 versation, and such as the laws are written in, in Prance, with 
 no more words than necessary : not like the present statutes in 
 which I have seen a single sentence take up thirteen such pages 
 as would fill a reasonable volume, and not finished after all : and 
 which are stuffed with repetitions and words that are of no use, 
 that the lawyers who draw them may be better paid for them. 
 Just like their deeds, such as you may see in any attorney's ot 
 fice, each filling from one to a hundred skins of parchment, long 
 enough to reach the breadth or the length of Westminster Hall ; 
 all which stuflF you must carry in your mind at once, if you 
 would make head or tail of it, for it makes altogether but one 
 sentence ; so well do they understand the art of poisoning lan- 
 guage in order to fleece their clients. All which deeds might 
 be drawn, not only more intelligibly, but surer, in short sentences, 
 and in a twentieth part of the room. A complete set of them might 
 be adapted to all occasions to which there are any adapted of 
 those at present in use, and would have been drawn years ago, 
 had there been any hope of seeing them made use of 
 
 Now God bless our good King George, preserve and purify the 
 Parliament, keep us from French Republicans and Levellers, 
 save what is worth saving, mend what wants mending, and 
 deliver us out of the clutches of the harpies of the law ! — v. 233- 
 237. 
 
 MANUFACTURE OF LAW BY THE ENGLISH COURTS. 
 
 In the practice of a large proportion of all these courts, both 
 branches of law spun out together, the substantive branch out of 
 the adjective, in the shape of twist, by the judge in the course of the 
 operations of procedure, the twist afterwards woven into piece- 
 goods by the firm of repcirt-maker, report-maker's bookseller, 
 
MANUFACtVrE op law by the ENGLISH COURTS. 151 
 
 abridgment-maker, ai|d his abridgment's bookseller : and in this 
 way it is, that, on preteftee of judicature, over the whole field of law, 
 power of legislation coiilinues to be exercised : exercised by the 
 combination of such essentially and flagrantly incompetent 
 hands ! 
 
 Are you a chief justice 1 Have you a law to make? to make 
 on your old established mode ? The following is your recipe. 
 Take any word or number of words the occasion requires ■ choos- 
 ing, as far as they go, such as are already in the language, but 
 if more are wanted, you either take them from another lan- 
 guage, old French or Latin, or make them out of your own head. 
 To these words you attach what sense you please. To enable 
 you to do, by this means, whatever you please, one thing only 
 is now wanting. That is, that, in the accustomed form, by some 
 person other than yourself (for you cannot yoursellj as in some 
 countries, give commencement to a suit,) the persojis and things 
 to be operated upon must be brought before you by the king's 
 attorney-general, or an individual in the character of plaintiff. 
 This done, you go to work, according to the nature of the case. 
 Is it a civil one ? To the plaintiff you give or refuse as much of 
 defendant's property as is brought before you. Is it a criminal, 
 or say penal one 1 You apply, or refuse to apply, to the defen- 
 dant, the whole, or more, or less, of the punishment demanded 
 for him at your hands. This you do in the first instance before 
 and without any law to authorize you : for, no such authorizing 
 law have you any need of: after which, in the way just men- 
 tioned, what you 'have done receives, in print, authority, exten- 
 sion, and permanence, from the above-mentioned hands, being 
 by them manufactured into a sort of fictitious law doing the 
 office of, and upon occasion overruling, an act of parliament. 
 
 From the process pursued in the principal of these manufac- 
 tories, a conception, it is hoped, tolerably clear and correct, may 
 be formed, of the manner in which this species of manufacture 
 has been, and continues to be, carried on. These are — 1. Equity 
 courts ; 2. Common-law courts; 3. Courts Christian, alias spirit- 
 ual, alias ecclesiastical courts. 
 
 I. Turn first to the self-styled equity courts. Words compri- 
 sing the raw materials, trust, fraud, accident, injvnction, account, 
 with the word equity at their head — here we have the whole 
 stock of them, or thereabouts ; stock in words small ; but in mat- 
 ter as abundant as heart can desire. One of them, the master- 
 word equity — so rich is it, that out of it, and by the strength of 
 it, any thing could yet, and to this day can be done, that lust of 
 power or money can covet. What can it not do 1 It can take any 
 
l6t 
 
 251 MANDFACTUKE OF LAW BY THE ENGLISH COURTS. 
 
 ward, every Infant, out of the arms of any and every father, and 
 at the father's expense, keep cramming it with the pap of impos- 
 ture and corruption, till the father is reduced to beggary, and 
 the entire mass of the child's rendered as foul as that of the 
 crammer's mind. 
 
 Equity? what means if! A bettermost, yes, and that the 
 very best, sort of justice.— But, justice being, the whole together, 
 so good a thing, what must ' not this very best sort be "! Be it 
 what it may, that which, on each occasion, is done by the judge 
 of an equity court, is not equity 1 Well then, by the charm at- 
 tached to this fascinating word, to whatsoever he does, not only 
 compliance and acquiescence, but admiration and laud, in the 
 accustomed and requisite quantity, are secured. 
 
 IL Next as to the common-law courts; and in particular the 
 great criminal-law court — the King's Bench. 
 
 Conspiracy, blasphemy, libel, malice, breach of peace, honos 
 mores, with their et caeteras — of these raw materials is composed 
 the stock of the common-law ' manufactory* That which equity 
 does for a chancellor, that or thereabouts, the single word con- 
 spiracy, would of itself be sufficient to do for chief-justice of 
 King's Bench. With this word in his mouth, what is it a chief- 
 justice cannot do ? who is there he cannot punish '\ what is there 
 he cannot punish for 1 
 
 Persons conspire, things conspire — to produce effects of all 
 kinds, good as well as bad. In the very import of the word con- 
 spiracy is tlierefore included the conspiracy to do a bad thing : 
 now then, so as proof has been but given of' a conspiracy, that 
 is to say, of the agreeing to do something, or the talking about 
 the agreeing to do it, the badness of this same something, and 
 the quality and quantity of the badness, follow of course : they 
 follow from the vis termini, the very meaning of the word, and 
 may therefore without special proof be assumed. 
 
 So far, so good, where you have two or more to punish. 
 But how if there be but one ? In this case, a companion must 
 be found for him. But this companion it is not necessary he 
 should have a name ; he may be a person unknown : for, because 
 one of two criminals is unknown, is it right that the other should 
 escape from justice 1 
 
 So much for the King's Bench manufactory taken singly. Now 
 for ditto and Common pleas united, cases and suits called civil: 
 verbal stock'here — case, trover, assumpsit, with their et eaeteras. 
 Conspiracy, blasphemy, peace, and malice — these words were 
 found already in the language, and whatsoever was the occasion 
 or the purpose, required only a little twisting and wresting to 
 make them fit it. Bonos mores, trover, and assumpsit, had to be 
 
MANnFACTURE OF LAW. BY THE ENGLISH COURTS. 153 
 
 make them fit it. Bonos mores, trover, and assumpsit, had to be 
 imported ; bonos mores and assumpsit from Italy ; trover from 
 France : aJl of them had to undergo, in the machinery, more or 
 less of improvement, ere they were fit for use. Face would have 
 been as intelligible as case, and served as well, had fortune been 
 pleased to present it; clover as trover: mumpsit as assump- 
 sit: but case, trover and assumpsit, had fortune on their side. 
 
 III. Now as to Court Christian. No fissure, violent or gra- 
 dual, requisite here. Nothing requisite to be done otherwise 
 than in the quiet way, by splicing: by splicing performed imper- 
 ceptibly, and in the dark ; in the pitchy darkness of the very 
 earliest ages : no need of custom, of snatching, in the manner that 
 will be seen presently, from any other branch of the Judge and 
 Co. firm: simple addition was, the only change needed. 
 
 Mode of proceeding, or say recipe, this : — Take any act of any 
 person at pleasure ; call it a sin: add to it a punishment ; call 
 the punishment a penance. Observe, that the agent has a soul: 
 say, that the soul wants to have good done to it : say that the 
 penance will do this good to it. If, frightened at the word sin, 
 the people endure to be thus dealt with, any body is employed to 
 accuse any body of any one of these sins : if then he fails to make 
 answer in proper form, you make him do this penance : so, of 
 course, in case of conviction. 
 
 Now as to fees. Fees you receive for calling for the answer: 
 fees for allowing it to be made : fees for ■ making it ; and so on 
 successively for every link in the chain. But, suppose no such 
 answer made ? Oh, then comes excommunication: an opera- 
 tion by which, whether he does or does not think that he will be 
 made miserable in the other world, he will at any rate be made 
 sufficiently so in this. 
 
 A circumstance particularly convenient in this case, was and 
 is, that, besides the fees received in the course of the prosecution, 
 the penance and the excommunication themselves have been 
 made liquifiable into fees. 
 
 Sin, in this case, it was necessary should be the word : not 
 crime or civil injifry. But the same obnoxious act might, and 
 may still, be made to receive eJl these different appellations ; and, 
 on account of it, the agent dealt with in so many different ways ; 
 made, to wit, after the truth of it has, by the three different au- 
 thorities, in and by their several different and mutually incon- 
 sistent processes, -been ascertained. 
 
 The act suppose a blow and the sufferer a clergyman. Com- 
 mon Pleas gives to this same sufierer money for remedy to the 
 civil injury : King's Bench takes money from the man of vio- 
 
154 ORIGIN AND USE OP CIRCUITS. 
 
 lence, for the king : Court Christian takes money from the same 
 for the good of his soul, distributing the bonus among the re- 
 verend divine's spiritually learned brethren. 
 
 True it is. that, upon proper application made, — one of these 
 same judicatories (the King's Bench to wit,) may stop proceed- 
 ings in one of the others — the Court Christian to wit. But de- 
 fendant — what gets he by this "i One certain suit, for the chance 
 of ridding himself of another. And note, that in this fourth suit, 
 the mode of establishing the fact which is the ground of the ap- 
 plication is different from every one of the modes respectively 
 pursued in the other three. 
 
 Such is the species of manufacture : spinning out of words, 
 the sort of piece-goods called law, and thai of the goodness that 
 cloth would be of, if spun out of cobwebs. — v. 484-485. 
 
 ORIGIN AND USE OF CIRCUITS. 
 
 Do gentlemen suppose that the u^es that have been found for 
 circuits were the considerations that produced theml The in- 
 terest of the individual,, or the moment, produces laws in a dark 
 age ; ingenuity finds uses for them in a more enlightened one. 
 Do they conside?r what it was for, that circuits were set a-going f 
 It was to enable the great tyrant to swallow up the little ones. 
 While the feudal tree was in full bloom, and castles sprung up 
 like mushrooms, each castle enclosed a giant, who, growling 
 treason at the king, sat banqueting on the favourite food of giants, 
 the blood of the people. For this delicacy he was beholden to 
 his dwarf, who with a lawyer's gown upon his back, sat squeez- 
 ing the blood out, and conveying it into the monster's mouth. 
 The arch-giant, whose dwarfs, with all their squeezing, could 
 not supply him fast enough, bethought himself at last of de- 
 spatching giants-errant to kill the little giants, that he might 
 get their share. As these hunting giants required to be fed till 
 they could find game, it was only now and then that such hunt- 
 ing parties could be fitted out. At first it was once in seven 
 years, and this was counted a " stupendous effort of magnanimity 
 and benevolence," by the romancers of that time. At last it 
 came to twice in one year, where it stands at present. The 
 little giants were killed, but the giant-killers, instead of filling 
 their places with good men, went on their rounds, as they con- 
 tinue to do to this day. 
 
 When a piece of clock-work is set agoing, and heads to look 
 
COMMON LAV. 1-55 
 
 after it are wanting, it keeps on going, wlietiier it be of use or 
 whether it be of none. The old clock-work of revolving judges, 
 having kept on going for so many years, is admired to this day : 
 partly because it was of use when new, but much more because 
 it is so old, that greatest of all merits in the eyes of lawyers. — iv. 
 337-338. 
 
 SIMPLICITY IN JUDICATORIES. 
 
 How happy the suitor where there is but one court, the court ! 
 the simplest of all clowns would not mistake his way to it. Cut 
 courts out of one another with metaphysical shears, a science of 
 that which ought not to have had existence is thus created out of 
 nothing. To the necessary science of knowing whether you 
 have a right and a remedy for it, is added the unnecessary one 
 of knowing to what sort of a judge you are to go in order to get 
 your remedy. In vain have you re-enacted your indefeasible 
 law of nature, and proclaimed the maxim. Every man his own 
 lawyer. The hireling laughs at your maxim, and sits down in 
 tranquil certainty of his prey. He knows that, in the very first 
 step in the road to justice, you have built a labyrinth, to which 
 no man has a certain clue, and to which no man .but a law- 
 yer can pretend to have any, — iv. 332. 
 
 COMMON LAW. 
 
 Ebving, by the accumulated labour of successive generations, 
 been wrought up to the highest possible pitch of voluminousness, 
 indistinctness, and unintelligibility ; in this state it has been 
 locked up and concealed from general view as effectually as 
 possible. In England it has been locked up in two several lan- 
 guages, both of them completely unintelligible to the vast ma- 
 jority of the people. Office upon office, profession upon profes- 
 sion, have been established for the manufacturing, warehousing, 
 and vending of this intellectual poison. In the capacity of suitors, 
 the whole body of the people (able or unable to bear the charge) 
 are compelled to pay, on one occasion or another, for every thing 
 that was done, or suffered, or pretended to be done in relation to 
 it— for writing it, for copying it, for abridging it, for looking at 
 it, for employing others to look at it, for employing others to un- 
 derstand it, or to pretend to understand it ; interpreting and ex- 
 pounding imaginary laws, laws that no man ever made. — vi. 332. 
 
156 IMBECILITY OP THE COMMON-LAW COURTS. 
 
 IMBECILITY OP THE ENGLISH COMMON-LAW 
 COURTS. 
 
 From whatever cause, — the list of the things which they could 
 not, that is to' say, would not, do, was a pretty long one. 
 
 What they could do, and did do, amounted to this : they 
 could punish a man — hang him — cut his hands or legs off: they 
 could take a thing, a moveable thing, bodily, from one man, and 
 put it into the hands of another : from a house or a field they 
 could turn a man, head and shoulders, and put him into jail if he 
 came in again : they could take, and at one time used to take 
 (for example, on pretence of your having been outlawed, when it 
 was no such thing) your estate, and divide it amongst them- 
 selves: they could take the property of a dozen men (jurymen) 
 together, and destroy or dissipate it : it was what they did as 
 often as a new trial was granted : till about the middle of the 
 seventeenth century, they would not grant one upon any other 
 terms. 
 
 What they could not do, was — every thing else. 
 
 Not one thing whatsoever that a man ought to- do, could they' 
 make him do. A man had agreed with you to sell you an estate, 
 and you had paid him the money : could they make him put you 
 in possession of the estate, or put you in possession of it them- 
 selves'! Not they indeed. What they could do, was to punish 
 him, or make a show of punishing him, for not having done it : 
 give you, or make a show of giving you, money, instead of the 
 estate: to raise the money, take his goods, if he had not sense to 
 put them out of the way — take them, sell them, and give you 
 what they fetched: take his goods, or instead of his good, if he 
 had lands, and had not sense to dispose of them, take half of 
 them, and but half; when double would not suffice. 
 
 In regard to the future, and in the way of restraint, they could 
 stop another set of judges, a subordinate court from doing what 
 they chose should not be done ; but they knew not how to deal 
 with individuals: they could stop encroachments upon their' 
 judicature, but they could not stop waste. When a house was 
 pulled down, they could punish a man for having pulled it down; 
 when a grove or an avenue was. cut down, they could punish 
 him for having cut it down : but as to the preventing or stopping 
 him, it was out of their line. Mischief must first be done before 
 they would stir a finger to prevent it. When the steed was 
 stolen, then, and not till then, were they ready and willing to 
 shut the stable door. It required equity (when equity reared 
 its head) to stop waste. 
 
IMBECILITY OF THE COMMON LAW-COURT^. 1 57 
 
 Thus, in the way oi restraint alone, and that very imperfectly, 
 could they operate upon the future ; in the way of compulsion, 
 they knew not how to deal with it. 
 
 There was a particular circumstance, to which they were in a 
 considerable degree, if not altogether, indebted for their impo' 
 tence : and that was, their connexion with a jury. 
 
 How a set of men in many respects so arbitrary, came to find 
 themselves hampered with this salutary clog, is among the 
 many historical points involved in darkness : but so it was. By 
 King's Bench, by Common Pleas, by Exchequer, scarce any 
 thing was to be done, but either/or or witli a jury. ' 
 
 But there are abundance of things that could not be done, 
 and never have been done, nor never can be done, by a jury : 
 and amongst these are many things so necessary, so strictly ne- 
 cessary, that without them the existence of society, in a state 
 of civilization ever so little above the state of barbarism, ever 
 so little approaching to the present, is a matter physically impos- 
 sible : — Every function requiring occasional and occasionally-re- 
 peated superintendence — every function requiring a constant eye 
 to the future, and a ready hand to follow it — every thing that 
 was to be done in a cause which, in any one of a multitude of 
 respects was to a certain degree complex. 
 
 Except the anomalous and next to unexampled case where 
 jurymen have been treated like cardinals in a conclave — what- 
 ever is done by a jury, well or ill, must be done in a single sit- 
 ting : shut up again after they have been turned loose, they are 
 no jury — their claim to confidence is gone. By possibility a 
 jury may sit together (because they have sitten together) twenty- 
 four hours ; but if they have sat together half the time, unless 
 they take their verdict blindly from the judge, he choosing to 
 give it to them, cross and pile would present a better chance for 
 justice. 
 
 Habituated to act with a jury, these sages knew not how to 
 act without one ; no pipe, no dance; no jury, no justice. With 
 a jury, or, in the mean time, for a jury, was every thing to be 
 done : what could not be done with a jury, was either not worth 
 doing, or could not be done. Superstition bears her shackles 
 every where : poetry has been cramped by unities : by unities, 
 justice too has been cramped. At the play-house, what could 
 not be squeezed into five hours was not to be represented : in 
 Westminster Hall, what could not be squeezed into twenty-four 
 hours was not to be done. — vii. 292-293. 
 14 
 
158 COMMON LAW AND ITS aUARRELS WITH EttUlTY. 
 
 COMMON LAW AND ITS QUARRELS WITH EQUITY. 
 
 The common-law system, being in such sort put together, that 
 without assistance from some other quarter, it was impossible 
 that society itself should be kept together, another system, under 
 the name of Equity, was by necessity suffered to be imported in 
 ecclesiastical bottoms, to apply a palliative to some of the most 
 intolerable of its imperfections, to entangle with it, to obstruct it, 
 to be obstructed by it, and to overrule it. — vi. 1 35. 
 
 Among the causes which have contributed to heap vexation 
 upon suitors on the ground of evidence, one has been the scram- 
 ble for jurisdiction (i. e. for fees) between the common-law 
 courts, and the courts called courts of equity. Such was the 
 hostility, the common-law courts refused to give credit to what- 
 ever was done under authority of their rivals. Depositions in 
 equity were not admissible evidence at common law. When 
 the work of iniquity is wrought by judicial hands, there must al- 
 ways be a pretence ; but no pretence has been too thin to serve 
 the purpose. It consists always in some word or phrase ; and 
 any one word that comes uppermost is sufficient. 
 
 The pretence on this occasion was, — a court of equity is not 
 a court of record. A better one would have been, to have said, 
 it is not a tennis court. The consequence would have been 
 equally legitimate ; and the defects of the common-law courts, 
 and the effrontery of the conductors of the business, would not 
 have been placed in so striking a point of view. 
 
 With much better reason (if reason had any thing to do in the 
 business) might the equity courts have refused the application 
 of courts of record to the common-law courts. In every cause, 
 the evidence, and that alone, is the essence of the cause ; in it is 
 contained whatever constitutes the individual character of the 
 cause, and distinguishes it from all other causes of the same spe- 
 cies : to a cause, the evidence is what the kernel is to the nut. 
 In a court of equity, this principal part of the cause, though not 
 made up in the best manner, is at any rate put upon recprd, or, 
 in plain English, committed to- writing, and preserved. In a 
 court of law this is never done. The evidence like the leaves of 
 the Sibyl, is committed so the winds. What goes by the name 
 of the record is a compound of sense and nonsense, with ex- 
 cess of nonsense : the sense composed of a minute quantity of 
 useful truth, drowned and rendered scarce distinguishable by a 
 flood of lies, which would be more mischievous if they were less 
 notorious. 
 
 In the court of Exchequer, the same judges constitute one day 
 
DESCRIPTION OP A SUIT IN EftUlTY. .1 59 
 
 a court of equity, another day a court of law. What if the 
 occasion for the rejection of the evidence had presented itself in 
 this court 'i In the hands of an English judge, the jus menliendi 
 is the sword of Alexander. On the declared ground of iniquity, 
 stopping every day their own proceedings, why scruple to refuse 
 credit to their own acts'! — vii. 172-173. 
 
 Among the various classes of depredators, one has been dis- 
 tinguished in which they hunt in couples. One of the pair runs 
 violently against a man, and knocks him into the kennel ; the 
 other, with sympathetic eagerness,. runs up to his assistance, 
 drives oflFthe assailant, helps up the sufferer, and picks his pockets. 
 The ruffian thief is common law ; the hypocrite thief is .equity. — 
 vii. 298. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A SUIT IN EaUITY. 
 
 You are the father of a family : you call on me and say, — 
 Two of my children have a dispute about a plaything : each of 
 them claims it as his own. Advise me, then, what shall I do to 
 settle the matter between them 7 what shall I do to come at the 
 truth 1 I look grave, and answer you as follows : I fear, indeed, 
 there is something wrong on one side, or the other ; I am afraid 
 that one or other of them does not speak truth : falsehood should 
 not be permitted to gain its ends. If I were in your place, I 
 would endeavour to sift the matter to the bottom. I will tell 
 you, then, how you shall manage. You must not think of send- 
 ing for either of them, and examining him unawares, nor of 
 bringing them face to face; so far from it, should either of them 
 happen to come into the room where you are, of his own accord, 
 you must take care and not say a syllable to him about the mat- 
 ter. I'll tell you what you must do : Let your youngest son tell 
 his story upon paper, putting what questions to his brother he 
 thinks proper : give the other boy a reasonable time to contrive 
 his answer ; first six weeks, then a month, then three weeks, 
 then a fortnight. If his answer should be evasive, then go on in 
 the same course with him again : perhaps the youngest may, by 
 this time, think of some questions which he omitted to put the 
 first time ; or a fresh string of questions may be made requisite 
 by the answers to the first : this will make another string of 
 adjournments necessary. Meantime the eldest, perhaps, will be 
 for telling his story, and putting his questions in return : by this 
 means, the time for deliberation will be doubled. When affairs 
 are come to this pass, you may either read what they have writ- 
 ten yourself, or you may desire their uncle to inquire of the 
 
160 THE PREVENTIVE REMEDIES IN EaOITV. 
 
 people of the family, whether any body heard any thing of what 
 passed, taking care not to speak to either of the boys themselves. 
 When their uncle has told you what he has learnt, then the mat- 
 ter will be ripe for your decision. By this time, twice as much 
 as' the money in dispute will have been spent in pens and paper : 
 all memory of what passed at the time when the dispute arose 
 will be at an end : your children will have become skilled in the 
 evils of falsehood and evasion : the time of the servants will have- 
 been taken up in carrying letters and messages backwards and 
 forwards : your own time will have been wasted in poring over 
 all this idle scrawl : a fixed enmity will have taken root between 
 your children : your relations and servants will have taken their 
 parts on one side, or on the other ; and thus the truth will be 
 fully brought to light, and the whole family will enjoy uninter- 
 rupted peace and harmony. After I had made my speech, would 
 not you think me in a delirium 1 From the beginning to the end, 
 would you think there was the least particle of common sense ? 
 This, however, is, without the least sophisticatiqn, the exact pro- 
 gress of what is called a suit in equity : a suit which, unless jus- 
 tice were denied,* might be brought for a pecuniary demand as 
 trifling as that which has been here supposed. When 1 say ex- 
 act, I mean, as far as it goes ; but according to a very simple 
 pattern, stripped of a thousand incidents, by fewer or more of 
 which a suit can scarcely fail to be diversified. Not a syllable 
 here of pleas, replications, demurrers, bills of interpleader, bills 
 of reviver, exceptions to reports, rehearings, motions, and the 
 like. In the patriarchal government, no type could be found of 
 mysteries like these. I know very well that a state is larger 
 than a family : 1 know very well that a judge is not to be ex- 
 pected to feel the same impartial tenderness for suitors, as a fa- 
 ther for his children : but it lies upon those who think they can 
 defend the current practice, to show why the same methods 
 which are sure to defeat the purposes of justice in the one case, 
 are necessary to effect them in the other. — i. 188. 
 
 INADEQUACY OP THE PREVENTIVE REMEDIES IN 
 EQUITY. 
 While the boy is running to the chandler's shop to buy the 
 salt to lay upon the sparrow's tail, (an instruction not grudged 
 
 * In fact, where the demand does not exceed ten pounds, this species of 
 justice is denied ; and that openly and without shame. Ask a man of equi- 
 ty for what reason ? his answer is, " De minimis non curat lex," the sub- 
 sistence of a family for half a year is not worth caring about. 
 
HISTORY OF THE COURT OF CHANCERY. 161 
 
 to infant bird-catchers,) the bird hops or flies off at leisure. If 
 it were in the nature of equity — English equity — to be sincere, 
 she would find her emblem in this child. But no; the imputa- 
 tion would be unjust to her, if this lameness were to be ascribed 
 to blindness. 
 
 By preventing mischief, mischief in any of the shapes in 
 which equity is at every man's service to prevent it, there 
 would be nothing to be got. By making a show, and that a 
 false oije, of being ready to prevent it, much is to be got, and 
 is got. The groom who, having a common interest with the 
 horse-stealer, waits till the steed is stolen, and then marches up 
 to shut the stable door in ceremony, — he, and not the infant 
 bird-catcher, is the true emblem of English equity. 
 
 While the bill is preparing, to ground the writ ne exeat res:no, 
 the cuckoo swindler that should have been hedged in, is wing- 
 ing his way to the Continent, laughing at or with the hedgers. 
 While the Injunction Bill, by which waste should have been 
 stayed, is scribbling, the axe of the disseisor or malicious life- 
 holder is levelling to the ground the lofty oaks from which the 
 venerable mansion has derived shelter and dignity from age to 
 age. While, in all the luxury of skins and parchment, the 
 female orphan is dressing out to make her appearance in the 
 character of a ward of the court, the sharper whom the charms 
 of her person or her purse have laid at her feet, is clasping her 
 in his arnis at the temple of the Caledonian hymen, laughing 
 with her to tljink how the union of hearts has been facilitated 
 by the incompleteness of the union between kingdoms. 
 
 Malefactor, whoever you are, you deserve to be confined for 
 idiocy, or your solicitor struck off the roll for ignorance, if ever 
 it be your ill fate to see your schemes anticipated and frustrated 
 by English equity, — vii, 380. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE COURT OF CHANCERY. 
 
 In the beginning, when causes were comparatively few, the 
 Chancellor, — this new sort of judge, to whom a commission had 
 been given to judge secundi/m sequum et bonum, (it being but 
 too manifest how widely the rules pursued by the established 
 judges differed from this character,) — this new-made judge 
 proceeded (as any man would naturally proceed in his place) — 
 proceeded as the inferior judges, called justices of the peace, 
 proceed at this day. He heard the evidence, and then he de- 
 
 14* 
 
162 HISTORY OF THE COURT OF CHANCERY. 
 
 cided upon it. The evidence on which he was about to decide, 
 he heard with his own ears. 
 
 It could not be long before business of this judicial kind 
 would crowd upon him in a much greater quantity than his 
 other business, of which he had no inconsiderable quantity, 
 would allow him time for. What was to be done? Of a co- 
 ordinate, a rival in office, a sharer in the dignity, power, and 
 emoluments attached to it, it was not natural that he should be 
 desirous; nor, had he even been desirous, could he have been 
 sure of obtaining of the king any such coadjutor; at any rate, 
 without such solicitations as it suited not to him to make. 
 From the first, he had of necessity (were it only for the mere 
 mechanical, the writing, part of his business) a number of 
 clerks under his orders; the number of these clerks soon rose to 
 twelve. In process of time, these clerks, not being yet enough, 
 contrived to have other clerks under them: the original sort of 
 clerk became distinguished by the name of Masters. As the 
 writings accumulated, — many of which, if not all, were for 
 some reason or other to be preserved, and for the purpose of 
 occasional consultation, to be put and kept in some sort of 
 order, — this charge, a charge of no small trust, was committed 
 to one of those clerks, — who thus became distinguished from 
 and above the rest. In those days, paper had not been invented, 
 or at least was not in common use: parchment was the only 
 substance to which the characters, which written discourse is 
 composed of, was applied: the art of bookbinding was little in 
 use: economy suggested, as the most convenient mode of adding 
 sheet to sheet, and in such successive quantities as came to be 
 required by successive incidents, the tacking them together in 
 such manner that the whole length might be wound up together 
 in the form of spiral rolls. The clerk, in whose, keeping these 
 rolls were, was thus distinguished by the name of the clerk of 
 the rolls. When clerks became masters, the clerk of the rolls 
 became Master of the Rolls. 
 
 Of the business committed to the Chancellor, such business 
 as was least pleasant to him to do himself, he turned over, of 
 course, to these his clerks. In some instances, entire causes, — 
 decision, as well as collection of evidence. But in general it 
 came to be felt that decision was a more pleasant operation than 
 inquiry: decision has more of power in it — inquiry more labour: 
 inquiry takes up more time, and creates a greater demand for 
 patience. The business of collecting the evidence thus fell into 
 the hands of the twelve master clerks: but more particularly of 
 the head one amongst them, the clerk of the rolls. 
 
 The evidence thus collected, was collected by the clerks : but 
 
HISTORY OF THE COURT OF CHANCERY. 163 
 
 the Chancellor, by whom a decision was to be grounded on it, — 
 how was the purport of it to be presented to his Ifnowledgef 
 The surest channel was the tenor : but that required it to be 
 committed to writing. So much the better : on the account of 
 the suitors, in respect of security against misdecision, for ob- 
 vious reasons: on the account of this great officer, and these his 
 subordinates, for other reasons not less obvious. Writing is la- 
 bour : — but the labourer is worthy of his hire : and the labourer 
 acted under the orders of one, in whose hands were vested the 
 easiest and surest means of exacting from his employer, the 
 suitor, whatever it should be thought prudent to demand, on 
 the score of hire. 
 
 On interlocutory points, the power of decision, provisional de- 
 cision, subject of course to appeal to the principal judge (the only 
 judge recognised in that character,) came thus, little by little, to 
 be exercised by all these clerks. Even on definite points, the 
 like power, though always subject to appeal, came by degrees to 
 be exercised by the chief clerk, or the Master of the Rolls. 
 
 Of the whole business of procedure, the part that afford most 
 trouble, and by assignment had been made to afford additional 
 profit, v/as that which consists in the collection of the oral part 
 of the evidence : This portion of the business had overflowed (we 
 have seen how, and at how early a period,) from the hands of the 
 Chancellor, into the hands of his head clerk or official servant : 
 the same causes continuing to operate, made it necessarily over- 
 flow into still lower and lower channels. The clerk, now be- 
 come masjer, of the rolls, turned it over to his " servants." 
 Servants, not so much as distinguished by the name of clerks, 
 were deemed good enough for this laborious part of the business : 
 what sort of servants (pages, footmen, grooms, or stable-boys) is 
 not said. ^ , 
 
 These servants kicked it down to servants or deputies of their 
 own. 
 
 From page, or foot-boy, or whatever else happened to be his 
 original occupation, the servant rose into a clerk, — the examin- 
 ing clerk, — the examiner. The examiner has long been rich 
 enough to be above his business : he keeps a deputy, and the 
 deputy acts by his clerks, all for the good of the public, not for- 
 getting the master of the rolls. All these offices have their value : 
 to all of them the nomination is in the master of the rolls : what- 
 ever may be the rational cause, the historical cause is at any 
 rate sufficiently apparent. 
 
 The king's turnspit used to be a member of Parliament : the 
 clerk of the deputy of a servant of a clerk of the keeper of one of 
 the king's seals, is still a Judge. — vi. 422-423. 
 
164 LAW TAXES. 
 
 POW TO EXTRACT A SIMPLE SYSTEM OF PLEADING. 
 
 Corayns, title pleader, shall be taken into the laboratory. It 
 shall be thrown into the roasting furnace ; the arsenic, 60 per 
 cent., will fly off in fume : — it shall be consigned to the cupel ; 
 the lead, 30 per cent., will exude out, and repose for everlasting 
 in the powder of dead men's bones. The golden button, 1 per 
 cent., shall be gathered up, and made the most of. — v. 28. 
 
 LAW TAXES. 
 
 It is too pijAch to expect of a man of finance, that he should 
 anticipate the feelings of unknown individuals: it is a great deal 
 if he will listen to their cries. Taxes on consumption fall on 
 bodies of men : the most inconsiderable one, when touched, will 
 make the whole country ring again. The oppressed and ruined 
 objects of the taxes on justice, weep in holes and corners, as 
 rats die : no one voice finds any other to join with it. 
 
 A tax on shops, a tax on tobacco, falls upon a man, if at all, 
 immediately, and presses on him constantly : — every man knows 
 whether he keeps or means to keep a shop — whether he means 
 to sell or to use tobacco. A tax on justice falls upon a man only 
 occasionally : it is like a thunder- stroke, which a man never looks 
 for till he is destroyed by it. He does not know when it will fall 
 on him, or whether it ever will : nor even whether, when it does 
 fall, it will press upon liba most or upon his adversary. He 
 knows not what it will amount to : he has no data from which to 
 calculate it: it comes lumped to him in the general mass of law 
 charges ; a heap of items, among which no vulgar eye can ever 
 hope to discriminate ; an object on which investigatiop would be 
 thrown away, as comprehension is impossible. Calamities that 
 are not to be averted by thought, are little thought of, and it is 
 best not to think of them. When is the time for complaint !■ 
 Before the thunder-bolt is fallen it would be too soon — when fallen, 
 it is too late. Shopkeepers, tobacconists, glovers, are compact 
 bodies — they can arm counsel — they come in force to the House 
 of Commons. Suitors for justice have no common cause, and 
 scarce a common name — they are every body and nobody — their 
 business being every body's is nobody's. Who are suitors 1 where 
 are they ? what does a chancellor of the Exchequer care for them 1 
 
THE SHILLING FKES OF MASTERS IN CHANCERY. 165 
 
 What can they do to help him? what can they do to hurt him? 
 So far from having a common interest, they have a repugnant 
 interest: to crush the injured, is to befriend the injurer. 
 
 May not ignorance, ^vith regard to the quantum and the sovirce 
 of the grievance, have contributed something to patience? Un- 
 able to pierce the veil of darkness that guards from vulgar eyes 
 the avenues of justice, men know not how much of the difficulty 
 of the approach is to be ascribed to art, and how much to nature. 
 As the consumers of tobacco confound the tax on that commodity 
 with the price, so those who borrow or would have wished to 
 borrow the hand of justice, confound the artificial with the natu- 
 ral expense of hiring it. But if the whole of the grievance be 
 natural, it may be all inevitable and incurable, and at any rate it 
 may be no more the fault of lawyers or law-makers, than gout 
 and stone are of physicians. Happy ignorance! if blindness to 
 the cause of a malady could blunt the pain of it! 
 
 There want not apologists-general and talkers in the air, to 
 prove to us that this, as well as every thing else, is as it should 
 be. The expense, the delay, and all the other grievances, which 
 activity has heaped up, or negligence suffered to accumulate, are 
 the prices which, according to Montesquieu, we must be content 
 to pay for liberty and justice. A penny is the price men pay 
 for a penny loaf: therefore why not twopence? and, if three- 
 pence, there would be no harm done, since the loaf would be 
 worth so much the more. — ii. 581. 
 
 THE SHILLING FEES OF MASTERS IN CHANCERY. 
 
 Is it crediMe that a man in such high office, receiving so many 
 thousands a-year, bearing so long a gown upon his shoulders, 
 and so venerable a mass of artificial hair upon his head, indued 
 consequently with so rich a stock of learning and virtue, — that 
 a man so gifted should ever, in any single instance, be content 
 to do so much mischief for a few shillings? Is it in the nature 
 of a man so to degrade himself? 
 
 Whether in the nature of a man, is a problem Heave to philoso- 
 phers. What is certain is, that it is in the nature of an English 
 judge. A man — any man that ever breathed in such high office 
 — do so much mischief for a few shillings?^ — and that in the 
 very teeth of common sense and common honesty, and without 
 the shadow of an excuse? A man? Why, they all do it, 
 and for a single shilling: it is every day's practice: and the 
 
166 LITIGATONS ON THE AUTHENTICITY OF DEEDS. 
 
 Chancellor and Master of the Rolls, their superiors, know of 
 
 their doing it, see them doing it, see them every day. So far 
 
 from stopping it, did ^ever Chancellor, dead or living, ever let fall 
 
 so much as the slightest token of disapprobation at the process 
 
 going forward perpetually under his nose 1 How should he 1 
 
 What sense is there in expecting he should ? Would you havB 
 
 the husbandman turn up his nose at the rottenness of the manure 
 
 that is giving fertility to his fields? The present shilling of the 
 
 master is the future shilling of the chancellor. As often as a 
 
 master dies, the chancellor puts into the ofBce whom he pleases. 
 
 The £10,000 or £15,000 a-year of the chancellor, with its et 
 
 csiteras, and their et cseleras, — are not shillings the stuff it is 
 
 composed of! 
 
 ****** 
 
 In the district called the Rolls there is a chapel, and in that 
 chapel a catechism, in which, to the question — " Who is thy 
 neighbour?" the ansvyer is, the Master who sits next to me. — 
 yii.218-?19. 
 
 LITIGATIONS ON THE AUTHENT?IC1TY OF DEEDS. 
 
 In the ordinary intercourse of life, b. man to whom it has hap- 
 pened to deny his own hand-writing is pointed at as a man of 
 lost character ; and to such a degree lost, that, to a person to 
 •whom the like loss is not a matter of indifference, it may be 
 scarcely safe to associate with him. 
 
 On what ground is it that, for such a mode of conduct, a man 
 is thus consigned to infamy ? On this, or on none, viz., that in 
 this way he was knowingly and wilfully guilty of falsehood : — 
 wilful and deliberate falsehood for the purpose of injustice. 
 
 The man by whom his adversary in litigation is loaded with . 
 the delay, vexation, and, expense of proving (as well as exposed 
 to the peril of not being able, after all, in the teeth of so many 
 opposing quirks, to prove at any expense) the genuineness of a 
 document, of which there exists no real doUbt; — literally speak- 
 ing, and to outside appearance, this man does not commit the 
 falsehood that would have been committed, had the question, 
 " /s the genvinenens of this document matter of doubt to yov?" 
 been put, and answered in the affirmative. The falsehood is not 
 committed: — but what is committed is an injustice ; — an injustice 
 which, in point of mischievousness, is exactly upon a level with 
 such falsehood : the injustice, in which such falsehood would 
 have found its sole object, and its sole advantage. 
 
HOW TO PILLAGE A CORPORATION. 107 
 
 The falsehood has not been committed : — hutwhy has it not? 
 Only because the judges (in whom the practice in this behalf 
 has found its creators and preservers) have taken such good 
 and effectual care to secure, to every dishonest man who in this 
 way finds his account in making himself their instrument, the 
 benefit of such falsehood; without that risk which, had the 
 eventual necessity of it been left subsisting, would have consti- 
 tuted the expense of it. — vi. 123. 
 
 Witnesses to the number of half a dozen or half a score, all 
 of them unexceptionable, are ready to be produced; each of them 
 ready to say, " I saw the several parties attaching their respec- 
 tive signatures to this instrument, saying, (each of them,) I de- 
 liver litis as my act mid deed." 
 
 Quibbleton, counsel for the defendant, addressing himself to 
 the first of these witnesses: \^hat is your name? 
 
 Answer. John Stiles. 
 
 Quibbkton. My lord, here is the deed: — two, (your lordship 
 sees,) and but two, attesting witnesseSr neither of them is named 
 John Stiles. 
 
 Judge. Set aside this witness. 
 
 Half a dozen or half a score, all of undisputed character, all 
 ready to speak to this plain fact, and not one of them permitted. 
 Why not permitted? Answer: Because, in the first place, if 
 permitted they would all perjure themselves: in the next place, 
 having thus perjured themselves', they would a'l of them, in 
 spite of counsel's cross examination and judge's direction, ob- 
 tain credence. Two persuasions these, neither of them (it is 
 true) avowed, because, when absurdity and improbity enter 
 upon the stage, they do not, either of them, present themselves 
 stark naked. But, to give to the exclusion so much as the co- 
 lour of being conducive to th« ends of justice, these persuasions 
 must both of them be entertained;' or at any rate, of the matters 
 of fact respectively predicted by them", the certainty, or (to 
 speak with a degree of correctness new as yet to lawyers' lan- 
 guage) the preponderant probability,' roust be assumed. — vii. 
 190-sl91. 
 
 HOW TO PILLAGE A CORPORATION 
 
 A corporation, according to Lord Coke fwho was not ill ac- 
 quainted with them,) has no conscience. What is better, it has 
 commonly a long purse. Problem, how to get the money out 
 of it! Solution: by both these qualifications, it is so much the 
 
168 HOW TO PILLAGE A CORPORATION. 
 
 better disposed to the purchase of that delay, of wliich t}ie 
 Court of Exchequer, as well as the other shops, has an assort- 
 ment so perfectly at its service. 
 
 Is it your misfortune to have a demand upon a corporation? 
 You must let off upon them three writs, or three pairs of writs, 
 one after another. By the help of these three writs, at the end 
 of about seven or eightmonths the suit is just begun, the cor- 
 poration having made what is called an appearance, that is, era- 
 ployed an attorney to act for them, but nothing as yet done. 
 
 Sum demanded, say £3000. The writ is a command to the 
 sheriff to levy so much money at the defendant's expense, in 
 the event of his not employing an attorney, as he ought. In 
 your first writ you take care that the sum thus levied, or or- 
 dered to be levied, shall be a sum plainly inferior to the inte- 
 rest of the money in dispute, for the time which the defendant 
 gains by taking no notice: a customary sum is 40s., and perhaps 
 there is no other. Defendant not appearing, you are almost an- 
 gry, and to show you are in earnest, you fee counsel to move 
 for a larger sum, taking care not to be too hard upon him — say 
 ^620. The same cause preserving inviolate on the part of the 
 corporation the same principle of passive disobedience, you 
 are now quite angry; and to show you are not to be trifled with 
 any longer, you move a second time, get your third distringas, 
 with your £50 worth of issues, for that is the phrase. 
 
 In Mr. Fowler's account of the practice of the Court of Ex- 
 chequer* (equity side,) are to be found three original and highly 
 instructive cases, from which the above instruction was com- 
 posed. Corporations squeezed: — 1. Corporation of Bridgewa- 
 ter: 2. East India Company; and 3. A free grammar .school. 
 
 Average quantity of delay sold, between half a year and a 
 year; after which the cause was to begin. Profit to the part- 
 nership not discoverable. Care taken by the court in each case 
 that the amount of the eventual mulct on the second order sholild 
 not exceed £30, lest obedience to the second order should take 
 away the pretence for the third. In two out of the three cases, 
 a brace of writs were let off at a time. 
 
 Thus, in the Exchequer, equity side. But, at common law, 
 the art of dealing with corporations is not less completely under- 
 stood. The same care to avoid precipitation; and the same 
 tender caution not to bear too hard upon the corporation (though 
 it has no conscience) a first and second tirae.f 
 
 • I. 198. 
 
 t Seller's Crotn()ton, 1.217; ii. 76-77. 
 
COMPRISING LITIGATIONS. 169 
 
 A judge, who, with a wish to do justice, possessed power suit- 
 able, — can it be necessary to ask what in such a case he would 
 do ? He would send for an acting member of the corporation, 
 the directing head, the writing hand, or any other (what difficulty 
 soever they might find in settling the matter among themselves, 
 there would be no more difficulty on the part of the judge in 
 dealing with them, than with any one of them in his individual 
 capacity ;) and what was not done in the Exchequer, among so 
 many learned hands, in six months, could be done ui half as . 
 many minutes. — vii. 221. 
 
 COMPRISING LITIGATIONS. 
 
 At length, when the stock of reciprocal scrawls is exhausted, 
 when the quiver of useless arrows is on both sides emptied, the 
 first and only inquiry, the trial before a petty jury, takes place. 
 On this occasion, the meeting of the parties in the presence of 
 the judge — the first stage in every system of procedure that has 
 really the ends of justice for its ends in view — this harbinger of 
 reconciliation, and condition sine qua non to thorough explana- 
 tion, though purely acdidental, is at least not Impossible. 
 
 On this occasion, if it so happens that both parties are in a 
 
 state oi bona fides, each conceiving himself to be in the right, 
 
 in such case, whether both or either of them are or are not pre- 
 sent, a scene of mutual frankness and expansion of heart may 
 not unfrequently be observed. A spectator, who, not knowing 
 or not adverting to the stage at which these amicable demonstra- 
 tions present themselves, should be witness only to the effect, 
 would be apt to wonder how it should happenthat between par- 
 ties so well meaning, assisted by agents at once so faithful and 
 so ingenuous, a difference capable of plunging them into litiga- 
 tion should ever have subsisted. In one consideration, and one 
 only, can any cause be found adequate to the production of so 
 remarkable an effect. The cause has, at this stage of it, fur- 
 nished to the lawyers of all classes whatever pickings are to be 
 had out of it. The stage in which agreement thus takes place, 
 if it takes place at all, is that in' which, if the cause did not end 
 in this way, it would alike find its termination in another way. 
 The stage at which all this virtue manifests itself, is that in which 
 the parties have little or nothing to gain by it — their lawyers 
 little or nothing to lose by it. 
 
 On this happy occasion, the advocates on both sides appear 
 seldom backward in contributing their parts towards so salu- 
 15 
 
170 WHERE IS lawyers' INTEREST IN DELAY LIMITED ? 
 
 tary a result. Why should they ? Before things are come to 
 this pass, the learned gentlemen have had their fees. 
 
 By termination in the ordinary way — viz., by a verdict in'fa- 
 vour of one party or the other — nothing farther would be to be 
 got. By a termination in some extraordinary way, in virtue of 
 an agreement for that purpose, ulterior fees may be to be got in 
 more ways than one ; and if the overture be made, as it com- 
 monly is, before the evidence is begun to be heard, so much time 
 and trouble is saved. 
 
 By agreement, the result may come to be modified, amongst 
 others, in either of the following ways: — 
 
 1. By a direct compromise upon the spot. 
 
 2. By reference to arbitration : in which case, after a bad 
 mode of inquiry, the cause is subjected to the only good one. 
 
 To a good mode of inquiry — even to the very best, lawyers 
 have no objection, when it is not substituted for, but given in ad- 
 dition to their own, the bad one. — vi. 480. 
 
 WHERE IS THE INTEREST OP LAWYERS IN DELAY 
 LIMITED! 
 
 1. The subject of depredation is the matter of property or wealth 
 considered as liable to be transferred from hand to hand by such 
 means. If wealth in every shape had been destroyed, profit, ju- 
 dicial profit, would thus have been dried up ii^ its source. Fees 
 are the golden eggs : national wealth, the hen that lays them. 
 
 2. A lawyer, besides being a lawyer, is a man. He sleeps 
 commonly in a house — he travels frequently on a road. Were 
 any such misfortune to happen to the man, as that of seeing his 
 house burnt, or feeling his throat cut, the sympathy of the law- 
 yer would hardly be altogether idle. This is another motive 
 for prescribing some sort of limitation to crimes in general, and 
 more particularly to those more violent ones, of which, if too 
 liberal an encouragement and indulgence were to be extended 
 to them, the destruction of society would be a speedy conse- 
 quence. 
 
 By the same principle by the action of which he is induced to 
 nurse and encourage some sorts of misdeeds, he will be induced 
 to aim with more or less energy and felicity at the prevention of 
 others. The misdeeds he nurses, will be those from which he 
 has most to gain and least to fear; the misdeeds he combats, 
 will be those from which he has most to fear, and least to gain. 
 
 A great majority of the whole number of misdeeds have ever 
 
LAWYERS PROFITING BY THEIR OWN BLUNDERS. 171 
 
 been, and will ever be, offences of the predatory class ; and of 
 these, again, a great majority will have for their authors a set of 
 miserable wretches from whom little or nothing is to be extracted 
 in the shape of fees. They will be, in a word, crimes of indigence 
 — ^theft, high- way-robbery, housebreaking, and so forth. Thus 
 far, then, clients and suitors are hardly worth multiplying in the 
 character of defendants. Moreover, the persons exposed to suffer 
 by these offences are persons of all classes, poor as well as rich ; 
 and, taking persons of all classes in the aggregate, a great ma- 
 jority will be too poor to yield a mass of fees worth stooping for. 
 Thus far, then, they are but little worth nursing and multiplying 
 in the character of prosecutors. 
 
 When a mass ofproperty constitutes a stake contended for by 
 two parties, or sets of parties, and that capable of being at an 
 early stage impounded, or any rate sure to be forthcoming; 
 when an estate in any shape is at stake, and it can be so ordered 
 that costs shall come out of the estate: this is the sort of cause 
 worth nursing above all others. 
 
 Taken together, the aggregate of criminal suits compose an 
 object very little worth nursing, in comparison with the aggregate 
 of non-criminal suits. Accordingly, it is in the former class of 
 causes that the greatest regard will be manifested for the ends of 
 justice — that most care will be taken for securing the conviction 
 of the wrong-doer, the acquittal of the guiltless — and that the 
 quantity of factitious expense, vexation, and delay, will be least 
 considerable. — vii. 207-208. 
 
 LAWYERS PROFITING BY THEIR OWN BLUNDERS. 
 
 The more indistinct, as well as voluminous, the bill with its 
 interrogatories, the more difficult will it be for the learned gentle- 
 man by whom the answer with its responses must be drawn, to 
 make sure of having given to each interrogatory its complete and 
 distinct response,— and thereby to take away, if by miracle he 
 were so inclined, all occasion for exceptions. Thus it is that, 
 (here as elsewhere, under this as well as every other part of the 
 system,) by and out of business, more business is made. The 
 more unintelligible the bill is, the more certain is the demand for 
 work for the same learned hand, in the shape of exceptions. 
 
 The shoemaker when he makes a shoe, the tailor when he 
 makes a coat, does not make a hole in his work for the sake of 
 having it to mend. But, besides that flaws are not always so 
 
172 THE MORALITY OF WESTMINSTER HALL. 
 
 conspicuous in ideal as in physical work, no shoemaker finds a 
 judge disposed to support him in the making of bad shoes : every 
 advocate finds a judge determined to support him in making, in 
 the way here described (not to mention so many other ways,) 
 bad bills, and consequently bad answers. — vi. 445. 
 
 .THE IVIORALITY OF WESTMINSTER HALL. 
 
 In so far as concerns justice and veracity, there are two codes 
 of morality that in this country have currency and influence ; — 
 viz., that of the public at large, and that of Westminster Hall. 
 In no two countries can the complexion of their respective legal 
 codes be easily more opposite, than that of those two moral codes, 
 which have currency, not only in the same country, but in the 
 same societies : and if so it be, that in the public at large, the 
 system of morals that -has place in practice, is, upon the whole, 
 honest and pure, — it is so, not in proportion as the morality of 
 Westminster Hall (of which so many samples have already been, 
 and so many more will be, exhibited) is revered and conformed 
 to, but in proportion as it is abhorred. So far as concerns love of 
 truth and justice, the greatest, but at the same time the most 
 hopeless improvement would be, the raising of the mind of a 
 thorough-paced English lawyer, on a bench or under a bench, to 
 a level with that of an average man taken at random, whose 
 mind had not, for professional views and purposes, been poisoned 
 with the study of the law :• as, on the other hand, in point of 
 sound understanding and true wisdom, the raising the same sort 
 of mind to a level with that of a man of competent education, of 
 the nature of that to which the term liberal is commonly applied. 
 
 Yes : it is from novels such as Maria Edgeworth's, that virtues 
 such as the love of justice and veracity, — it is-from the benches, 
 the bars, the offices, the desks in and about Westminster Hall, 
 that the hatred of these virtues, and the love bf the opposite vices, 
 — is imbibed. But that which to Maria Edgeworth was not 
 known, or by Maria Edgeworth was not dared to be revealed, is 
 the genealogy of her Lawyer Case : that that very ingenious and 
 industrious gentleman had for his elder brother the Honourable 
 Charles Case, barrister-at-law, M. P. in the lower house ; and 
 both of them for their father the Right Honourable the Lord 
 Chief-Justice Case, Christopher Baron Casington, in the upper ; 
 and that it was only by executing the powers given or preserved 
 to him, and earning the rewards offered and so well secured to 
 
INJURY TO LAWYERS FROM LAW REFORM. 173 
 
 him, by his noble and learned father, that the younger son be- 
 came what he was. 
 
 How long, for the self-same wickedness, shall the inferiors in 
 power and opulence — the inferiors who are but instruments — 
 be execrated, and the superiors, who are the authors of it, 
 adored ? Attorneys, solicitors, — were they the makers of judge- 
 made law 1 — were they the makers of the system of technical 
 procedure ? — were they the makers of the law of evidence 1 — 
 vii. 188. 
 
 THE PROFESSION OF THE BAR. 
 
 Almost every body knows, and a man must be a secretary of 
 state, or at least a cabinet minister, not to know — that in this 
 profession, above all others, success depends upon accident, at 
 least as much as upon aptitude: — that it has for its proximate 
 cause a certain opinion in the heads of attorneys : and that if, 
 external circumstances, altogether independent of inward en- 
 dowments, do not concur in the generation of this opinion, a 
 man may unite the rhetoric of a Murray with the logic of a 
 Dunning, and, at the end of a long life, die, like Sergeant 
 Kemble the reporter, without ever having elapsed to his pant- 
 ing breast the blessing of a brief. — v. 333. 
 
 ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH LAWYERS. 
 
 One merit which, in comparison with English, is peculiar 
 to Scotch lawyers, — they do not plaster over the foulness of 
 their system with eulogistic daubings. They acknowledge 
 — at least there are some among them that acknowledge their 
 need of amendment. Such is their humility, they are willing 
 to draw it from the fountain that flows on the other side of the 
 Tweed: and their southern brethren, such is their liberality, 
 are ready with their ink to blanch the northern ebony. — vii. 
 224. 
 
 INJURY TO LAWERS FROM LAW REFORM, 
 By the English Patricians of those days,* the same sense of 
 
 * In allusion to the abolition of Norman-French, and the adoption of 
 English, in Pleadings, in the year 1730. 
 
 15* 
 
174 BROWBEATING WITNESSES. 
 
 injury was felt, as was felt at Rome by the learned lords and gen- 
 tlemen of that time, when the book of Procedure, so religiously 
 kept under lock and key, was stolen and published by the arch- 
 thief Plavius,* in such sort as forced them to compose another, 
 placing it Under better guard : in the one case, the rule of action 
 was locked up bodily in a box ; in the other, it was locked up 
 spiritually in a dead language : — the same sense of injury, that 
 is felt by the same learned persons, and as constantly, howso- 
 ever covertly, testified, by some of them, as often as, by a wicked 
 and juryless Court of Conscience act, the possibility of obtaining 
 justice in certain cases, has been extended to this or that other 
 minute portion of the people : — the same sense of injury, in a 
 word, as was felt by the shark, who carried off one of Sir Brook 
 Watson's legs, at the thoughts of being obliged to leave the other 
 in its place. A shark is still a shark, in Britain as at Rome, 
 after the Christian sera as before. The ocean breeds them with 
 triple rows of teeth ; the technical system with teeth not less 
 sharp, and bushy manes like sea-lions. My lord, when a shark 
 is seen wagging his tail in the wake of a ship, it is a sign (so the 
 sailors say) that there is prey in preparation for him in the belly 
 ofit.— V. 15. 
 
 BROWBEATING WITNESSES. 
 
 Clothed in authority derived from the authority, and in sym- 
 bolic robes analogous to the robes, of the judge, — the hireling . 
 advocate, observing in an honest witness a deponent whose testi- 
 mony proniises to be adverse, assumes terrific tones and deport- 
 ment, and, pretending to find dishonesty on the part of the wit- 
 ness, strives to give his testimony the appearance ofit: suppressing 
 thus one part of what he would have had to say, and rendering 
 what he does say,— in part, through indistinctness, unconceived, 
 or misconceived — in part, through apparent confusion and hesita- 
 tion, unbelieved. 
 
 I say the bond fide witness : for, in tlie case of a witness who 
 by an adverse interrogator is really looked upon as dishonest, 
 this is not the proper course, nor is it taken with him. For bring- 
 ing to light the falsehood of a witness really believed to be mem- 
 dacious, the more suitable, or rather the only suitable, course, is 
 to forbear to express the suspicion he has inspired. Supposing 
 his tale clear of suspicion, he runs on in his course with fluency, 
 till he is entangled in some irretrievable contradiction, at variance 
 
 * Liv. Dec. 1. lib. 9.— Plin, Nat. Hist. lib. 3, 
 
UNANIMITY IN JURIES. 175 
 
 either with other parts of his own story, or with facts notorious 
 in themselves, or established by proofs from other sources. — vi. 
 426. 
 
 HOW TO PRODUCE SUBSEEVIENCY IN JURIES. 
 
 There are two ways, in either of which an effect thus desirable 
 may be brought about: 
 
 One is, by causing them to have a will, and that will exactly 
 the same with that of the judge. 
 
 The other is, by causing them not to have a will, viz. of their 
 own forming: of which state of mind the necessary consequence 
 will be their adopting, without more ado, whatsoever will may 
 come to be presented to them for that purpose by the judge. 
 
 Of these two modes, this latter mode is by far the most ad- 
 vantageous one. To the success of the former, the creative or 
 special, it is necessary that fresh labour should be bestowed upon 
 the subject on the occasion of every cause: by the other, the pre- 
 ventive or general mode, the business is done once for all; and, 
 without any fresh expense in the article of labour, a perpetually 
 renewed harvest of , success is reaped on the occasion of each 
 individual cause: in the one case, the business is carried on in 
 the retail, in the other, in the wholesale line. — v. 74. 
 
 UNANIMITY IN JURIES. 
 
 If the mode of forming verdicts had been the work of calm 
 reflection, working by the light of experience, in a comparatively 
 mature and enlightened age, some number certain of affording a 
 majority on one side, viz. — an odd number, would, in this as on 
 other occasions, have beeii provided; and to the decision of that 
 preponderating number would of course have been given the 
 effect of the conjunct decision of the whole: witness the course 
 taken for securing a decision under the Grenville Act.* 
 
 But the age in which the mode of forming verdicts was settled, 
 being an age of remote antiquity, of such high antiquity, that 
 nothing more is known of it, except that it was an age of gross 
 
 * In Scotland, the number of jurors, in criminal cases, is fifteen, a ma- 
 jority deciding for acquittal or conviction. The advantage of this system 
 is distinctly perceptible in practice, though, like the principle of unanimity 
 in England, it owes its origin purely to accidental adoption, and pre- 
 cedent. — Ed. 
 
176 
 
 UNANIMITY IN JURIES. 
 
 and cruel barbarism, the course taken for the adjustment of that 
 operation was different, and, compared with any thing that was 
 ever exhibited in any other nation, no less extraordinary than it 
 was barbarous. The whole body of these assessors, twelve in 
 number, being confined together in a certain situation, and in 
 that situation subjected to a mode of treatment, under which, 
 unless in time relieved from it, they would, at the end of a more 
 or less protracted course of torture, be sure to pepsh: subjected 
 to this torture, but in the case of this as of other torture, with 
 power to relieve themselves from it: in the present instance by 
 declaring, each of them, the fact of his entertaining a certain 
 persuasion (the persuasion expressed by their common verdict) 
 whether really entertained by him or not: in this way it was that 
 a joint decision, called a verdict, expressed b)' a predetermined 
 word or form of words, was on each, and every occasion, ex- 
 torted from the whole twelve. Such, for the declared purpose 
 of securing truth, veracity, vere dicta, for making sure that, on 
 the sort of occasion in question, whatever declarations of opinion 
 came to be made should be true — such was the expedient in- 
 vented in the thirteenth or fourteenth century— such the course 
 which still in the nineteenth continues to be pursued. 
 
 Here then, as often as in the number of tivelve jurors, any 
 difference of opinion has had place, so often has an act of wilful 
 falsehood, of mendacity, had place:, viz., in the instance of some 
 number from one to eleven, included in the twelve, if not (as in 
 the case of sinister influence may at any time happen) in the 
 instance of all twelve. For that it is in the nature or power of 
 torture — one and the same torture — as being applied at the same 
 time and place to twelve persons. A, B, C, D, and so forth, to 
 produce a real change of opinion in any one of them — or if it 
 were, to render it more, likely, that the opinion of A, should 
 change into that of B, than that of B, into that of A, and so forth 
 — is a proposition which, upon reflection, will not, it is sup- 
 posed, easily find any person either to sign or so much as seri- 
 ously to say it: excepting always the case of his being placed 
 under the action of any of those machines for the production of 
 peace, concord, unanimittj, or unifortnity, under the pressure of 
 which any thing whatsoever — any one thing as well as any 
 other, is either said or signed. — v< 85. 
 
THE SLOW PROGRESS OP LAW HEFOEM. 177 
 
 •POPULAR PREJUDICES IN FAVOUR OF THE LAW. 
 
 All the world over, what has been done by the law towards 
 the preservation of society, has been done, not so much by what 
 the law is in itself, as by the opinion that has been entertained 
 of it. But as the conception, such as it is, that non-lawyers 
 have had it in their power to obtain, and have been accustomed 
 to entertain of it, has been derived from the only source from 
 which it could have been derived, viz., the account given of it 
 by lawyers; and as, according to all such accounts, the law has 
 at all times, and through all its changes, been the perfection of 
 reason; such, therefore, it has in general been taken to be, by 
 the submissive and incurious multitude. By their own expe- 
 rience, its imperfections must all the while have continually 
 been exhibited to their view; but experience is not sufficient 
 always to open the eyes that have been closed by prejudice. 
 What their experience could exhibit to them, was the effect: 
 what their experience could not exhibit to them, was the cause. 
 The effect, the sufferings themselves, that resulted to indivi- 
 duals from the imperfections of the law, were but too indubita- 
 ble: but the cause to which they were imputed, was the invin- 
 cible and irremediable nature of things, not the factitious and 
 therefore remediable imperfections of the law. The law itself 
 is perfect: this they heard from all quarters from whence they 
 heard any thing about the matter: this they heard at all times, and 
 on all occasions, from the only men who so much as pretended 
 to know any thing about the matter. 
 
 The law is an Utopia — a country that receives no visits, but 
 from those who find their account in making the most favoura- 
 ble report of it. — vi. 206. 
 
 LAWYERS AND LAW REFORM. 
 
 Adding to the mass in the Augean stable, every ox had wis- 
 dom enough for, — every ox that ever was put into it: to employ 
 a river in the cleansing of it, required, not the muscle, but the 
 genivs of a Hercules. — v. 366. 
 
 THE SLOW PROGRESS OF LAW REFORM. 
 
 , About forty years ago, in a statute relative to East India af- 
 fairs, (26 Geo. III. c. 57, sect. 38,) provision was made, that, — 
 
178 APATHY OF THE PEOPLE TO LBQAL ABUSES. 
 
 in the case of a written evidence of a certain description, writ- 
 ten and attested in the East Indies, — for the authentication of 
 any such article of evidence in Great Britain, proof of the hand- 
 writing of the persons whose signature appeared on the face of 
 the instrument, should suffice: and this too for definite authenti- 
 cation, and without a thought of any need of eventual confirma- 
 tion by ulterior and better evidence: and so, vice ver^d, in the 
 case where an instrument executed in Great Britain requires to 
 be authenticated in the East Indies. 
 
 To this same purpose, a discovery that perhaps will one of 
 these days be made, is, that, besides the East Indies, the sur- 
 face of the earth includes other countries, more or less distant 
 from Great Britain; and, in the course of a century or so, at the 
 present rate of the progress of legislation, the benefit of this 
 provision may be expected to be extended to several of those 
 other countries. But for each such country a separate act will 
 be required; and, to warrant the motion for leave to bring in the 
 bill, proof will be required (or at least an assurance given by a 
 certain number of persons) that by the want of such accommo-- 
 dation divers persons have lost their property and been ruined; 
 and, as often as any such bill is brought in, it will be opposed 
 on the ground of innovation; and the proposer will be held up 
 to view in the character of a Jacobinical anarchist, a Utopian 
 speeulatist, or both in one. — vii. 187. 
 
 APATHY OF THE PEOPLE TO LEGAL ABUSES. 
 
 What the effect of the law may be upon the fate of some indi- 
 vidual, who at the moment happens to be an object of popular 
 favour or disfavour, is the only sort of law-question in which the 
 great body of the people are apt to take any very strong or steady 
 interest. So the point of the day be gained, — at what expense 
 it is gained (I mean at the expense of what mischief done to the 
 whole body of the laws) is no concern of theirs. — vii. 209. 
 
 That system of cool atrocity, the maintenance of which might 
 of itself, on the part of all those by whom the real effects of it 
 are understood, suffice for a perpetual refutation of all pretension 
 to any such feeling as a sincere regard for justice; — that abomi- 
 nation to which the duped and misguided people are so well re- 
 conciled — reconciled by the same causes by which they have 
 been reconciled to sinecures, to deodands, to sweeping forfeitures, 
 to corruption of blood, to imprisonment for debt, to punishment for 
 
OFFICIAL SELF-COMPLACENCV. 179 
 
 opinion — to capital punishment — were so once to trial by red- 
 hot ploughshares, and trial by duelling, — and, no less than the 
 people of Mexico and Otaheile, would have been to human sa- 
 crifices, had the blood of human victims been worth as much as 
 their money to the tribes of priests and lawyers. — vi. 91-92. 
 
 JOBBING POLITICIANS. 
 
 In England, reasons, or at least pretexts, have been found for 
 the arbitrary disposal of rewards, which would not exist under 
 an absolute monarchy. The constitution of parliament gives 
 occasion to the performance of services of such a nature as can- 
 not be acknowledged, but which in the eyes of many politicians 
 are not the less necessary. A certain quantity of talent is requi- 
 site, it is said, to save the political vessel from being upset by 
 any momentary turbulence or whim of the people. We must 
 possess a set of Mediators interested in maintaining harmony 
 between the heterogeneous particles of our mixed constitution; 
 a species of Drill Serjeants is required for the maintenance of 
 discipline among the undulating and tumultuous multitude. 
 There must be a. set of noisy Orators provided for those who 
 are more easily captivated by strength of lungs than by strength 
 of argument; Declaimers for those who are controlled by senti- 
 mentalism; and imaginative, facetious, or satirical Orators, for 
 those whose object it is to be amused; Reasoners for the small 
 number, who yield only to reason; artful and enterprising men 
 to scour the country to obtain and calculate the number of votes. 
 There must also be a class of men in good repute at court, who 
 may maintain a good understanding between the head and the 
 members. And all this, they say, must be paid for. — ii, 202. 
 
 OFFICIAL SELF-COMPLACENCY. 
 
 This fallacy [called the self-trumpeter's]] presents itself ire 
 two shapes: — 1. An avowal made with a sort of mock modesty 
 and caution by a person in exalted station, that he is incapable 
 of forming a judgment on the question in debate, such incapa- 
 city being sometimes real, sometimes pretended; 2. Open asser- 
 tion, by a person so situated, of the purity of his motives and 
 integrity of his life, and the entire reliance which may conse- 
 quently be reposed on all he says or does. 
 
 I. The first is commonly played off as follows: — An evil or 
 
180 OFFICIAL SELF-COMPLACENCY. 
 
 defect in our institutions is pointed out clearly, and a remedy 
 proposed, to wliich no objection can be made; up starts a man 
 high in office, and, instead of stating any specific objection, says, 
 " I am not prepared " to do so and so, " I am not prepared to 
 say," &c. The meaning evidently intended to be conveyed is, 
 " If I, vrho am so dignified, and supposed to be so capable of 
 forming a judgment, avovy myself incompetent to do so, what 
 presumption, what folly, must there be in the conclusion formed 
 by any one else!" In truth, this is nothing else but an indirect 
 way of browbeating — arrogance under a thin veil of modesty. 
 
 If you are not prepared to pass a judgment, you are not pre- 
 pared to condemn, and ought not, therefore, to oppose: the ut- 
 most you are warranted in doing, if sincere, is to ask for a little 
 time for consideration. 
 
 Supposing the unpreparedness real, the reasonable and prac- 
 tical inference is — say nothing, take no part in the business. 
 
 A proposition for the reforming of this or that abuse in the 
 administration of justice, is the common occasion for the em- 
 ployment of this fallacy. 
 
 In virtue of his office, every judge, every law-officer, is sup- 
 posed and pronounced to be profoundly versed in the science of 
 the law. 
 
 Yes; of the science of the law as it is, probably as much as 
 any other man; but law as it ought to be, is a very diffijrent 
 thing; and ihe proposal in question has for its avowed, and com- 
 monly for its real object, the bringing law as it is, somewhat 
 nearer to law as it ought to be. But this is one of those things 
 for which the great dignitary is sure to be at all times unpre- 
 pared, — unprepared to join in any such design, every thing of 
 this sort having been at all times contrary to his interest, — un- 
 prepared so much as to form any judgment concerning the con- 
 duciveness of the proposed measure to such its declared object: in 
 any such point of view it has never been his interest to consi- 
 der it. 
 
 A mind that, from its first entrance upon this subject, has been 
 applying its whole force to the inquiry as to what are the most 
 efiectual means of making its profit of the imperfections of the 
 system, — a mind to which, of consequence, the profit from these 
 sources of affliction has been all along an object of complacency, 
 and the affliction itself, at best, but an object of indifference, — a 
 mind which has, throughout the whole course of its career, been 
 receiving a correspondent bias, and has in consequence contracted 
 a correspondent distortion, — cannot with reason be expected to 
 exert itself with much alacrity or facility in a track so opposite 
 and so new. 
 
THE OFFICIAL CHARACTER. 181 
 
 For the quiet of his conscience, if, at the outset of his career, 
 it were -his fortune to have one, he will naturally have been feeding 
 ^ himself with the notion, that if there be any thing that is amiss 
 in practice it cannot be otherwise ; which being granted, and, 
 accordingly, that suffering to a certain amount cannot but take 
 place, whatsoever profit can be extracted from it is fair game, 
 and as such belongs of right to the first occupant among persons 
 duly qualified. 
 
 The v/onder would not be great if an officer of the military 
 profession should exhibit, for a time at least, some awkwardness 
 if forced to' act in the character of a surgeon's mate : to inflict 
 wounds requires one sort of skill — to dress and heal them re- 
 quires another. Telephus is the only man upon record who 
 possessed an instrument by which wounds were with equal de- 
 spatch and efficiency made and healed. The race of Telephus 
 is extinct ; and as to his spears, if ever any of them found their 
 way into Pompeii or Herculaneum, they remain still among the 
 ruins. 
 
 Unfortunately, in this case, were the ability to form a judg- 
 ment ever so complete, the likelihood of co-operation would not 
 be increased. None are so completely deaf as those who will not 
 hear — none are so completely unintelligent as those who will not 
 understand. 
 
 Call upon a chief^justice to concur in a measure for giving ' 
 possibility to the recovery of a debt, — the recovery of which is 
 in his own court rendered impossible by costs which partly go 
 into his own pocket, — as well might you call upon the Pope to 
 abjure the errors of the Church Of Rome. If not hard pressed, 
 he will maintain a prudent and easy silence ; if hard pressed, he 
 will let fly a volley of fallacies — he will play off the argument 
 drawn from the imputation of bad motives, and tell you of the 
 profit expected by the party by whom the bill was framed, and 
 petition procured, to form a ground for it. If that be not suffi- 
 cient, he will transform himself in the first place into a witness 
 giving evidence upon a committee ; in the next place, after mul- 
 tiplying himself into the number of members necessary to hear 
 and report upon that evidence, he will make a report accord- 
 ingly.— li. 411-412. 
 
 THE OFFICIAL CHARACTER. 
 
 Except in the case of an underling whose character is too of- 
 fensively rotton not to make it matter of necessity to suffer him 
 16 
 
182 
 
 MINISTERIAL PANEGYRICS. 
 
 to be thrown overboard, for all official men in general — high and 
 low — there is but one character: a general character for excel- 
 lence, tinged here and there with a little difference of colour, cor- 
 responding to the nature of the department. The idea looks as 
 if it were taken from the old chronicles : where, with decent in- 
 tervals, one portrait serves for half-a-dozen worthies: one town 
 for the same number of towns, and so as to battles and executions. 
 Time and labour are thus saved. This universal character puts 
 one in mind of an ingenious document I have seen, sold under 
 the title of the Universal Almanac. A copy of it has been sup- 
 posed to be bound up with every cabinet Minister's copy of the 
 red book. Like a formula for convictions, it might be inserted 
 into each particular, or into one general, act of parliament. Sub- 
 scription to it, and oath of belief in it, in relation to all official 
 persons whose salaries had risen or should hereafter rise to a 
 certain amount, might be added to the Test and Corporation 
 acts : and, without need of troubling the legislature, Lord Chief- 
 Justice Abbott, or liord Chief-Justice Anybody, would hold him- 
 self in readiness to fine and imprison every man who should dare 
 to insinuate that any such person that lives, or that ever has 
 lived, or that ever shall live, is, has been, or ever can be, defi- 
 cient in any one point belonging to it. — v. 330. 
 
 MINISTERIAL PANEGYRICS. 
 
 The object of vituperative personalities is to effect the rejec- 
 tion of a measure, on account of the alleged bad character of 
 those who promote it ; and the argument advanced is — " The 
 persons who propose or promote the measure, are bad ; there- 
 fore the measure is bad, or ought to be rejected." The object 
 of laudatory personalities is to effect the rejection of a measure 
 ■ on account of the alleged good character of those who oppose 
 it ; and the argument advanced is — " The measure is rendered 
 unnecessary by the virtues of those who are in power; their op- 
 position is a sufficient authority for the rejeption of the measure." 
 
 The argument indeed is generally confined to persons of this 
 description, and is little else than an extension of the self-trum- 
 peter's fallacy. In both of them, authority derived from the 
 virtues or talents of the persons lauded, is brought forward as 
 superseding the necessity of all investigation. 
 
 " The measure proposed implies a distrust of the members of 
 his Majesty's government ; but so great is their integrity, so com- 
 
MINISTERIAL PANEGYRICS. 183 
 
 plete their disinterestedness, so uniformly do they prefer the pub- 
 lic advantage to their own, that such a measure is altogether un- 
 necessary : — their disapproval is sufficient to warrant an oppo- 
 sition : precautions can only be requisite where danger is appre- 
 hended ; here, the high character of the individuals in question 
 is a sufficient guarantee against any ground of alarm." 
 
 The panegyric goes on increasing in proportion to the dignity 
 of the functionary thus panegyrized. 
 
 Subordinates in office are the very models of assiduity, at- 
 tention, and fidelity to their trust ; ministers, the perfection of 
 probity and intelligence: and as for the highest magistrate in the 
 state, no adulation is equal to describe the extent of his various 
 merits. 
 
 There can be no difficulty in exposing the fallacy of the argu- 
 ment attempted to be deduced from these panegyrics : — 
 
 1. They have the common character of being irrelevant to the 
 question under discussion. The measure must have something 
 extraordinary in it, if a right judgment cannot be founded on its 
 merits, without first estimating the character of the members of 
 the government. 
 
 2. If the goodness of the measure be sufficiently established 
 by direct arguments, the reception given to it by those who oppose 
 it will form a better criterion for judging of their character, than 
 their character (as inferred from the places which they occupy) 
 for judging of the goodness or badness of the measure. 
 
 3. If this argument be good in any one case, it is equally good 
 in every other; and the effect of it, if admitted, would be to give 
 to the persons occupying for the time being the situation in 
 question, an absolute and universal negative upon every measure 
 not agreeable to their inclinations. 
 
 4. In every public trust, the legislator should, for the purpose 
 of prevention, suppose the trustee disposed to break, the trust in 
 every imaginable way in which it would be possible for him to 
 reap, from the breach of it, any personal advantage. This is the 
 principle on which public institutions ought to be formed; and 
 when it is applied to all men indiscriminately, it is injurious to 
 none. The practical inference is, to oppose to such possible 
 (and what will always be probable) breaches of trust every bar 
 that can be opposed, consistently with the power requisite for 
 the efficient and due discharge of the trust. Indeed, these argu- 
 ments, drawn from the supposed virtues of men in power, are 
 opposed to the first principles on which all laws proceed. 
 
 5. Such allegations of individual virtue are never supported by 
 
184 HIGH SALARIES. 
 
 specific proof— are scarce ever susceptible of specific disproof; 
 and specific disproof, if offered, could not be admitted, viz. 
 in either House of Parliament. If attempted elsewhere, the 
 punishment would fall, not on the unworthy trustee, but on him 
 by whom the unworthyness had been proved. — ii. 413. 
 
 HIGH SALAEIES. 
 
 Salary, according to the usual meaning of the word, — that is, 
 pay given by the year, and not by the day of attendance, — so 
 far from strengthening the connexion between interest and duty, 
 weakens it; and the larger, the more it weakens it. That 
 which a salary really gives a man motives for doing, is the 
 taking upon him the office: that which it does not give him any 
 sort of motive for is, the diligent performance of its duties. 
 
 It gives him motives, if one may say so, for the non-perform- 
 ance of them; and those the stronger, the more there is of it. 
 It gives him pleasurable occupations, to which those laborious 
 ones are sacrificed : it sets him above his business : it puts him 
 in the way of dissipation, and furnishes him with the means. 
 Make it large enough, the first thing he does is to look out for a 
 deputy; and then it is what the principal gives the deputy, not 
 what you give the principal, that causes the business in any 
 
 way to be done. 
 
 ********** 
 
 This is not all. Salary, in proportion to its magnitude, not 
 only tends to make a man who happens to be fit. for his busi- 
 ness, less and less fit, but it tends to give you, in the first in- 
 stance, an unfit man rather than a fit one. The higher it is, the 
 nearer it brings the office within the appetite and the grasp of 
 the hunters after sinecures, — those spoilt children of fortune, 
 the pages of the minister, and of every minister, v.'ho, for having 
 been born rich, claim to be made richer, — whose merit is in 
 their wealth, while their title is in their necessities, and whose 
 pride is as much above business, as their abilities are below 
 it— iv. 129. 
 
 Neither Charteris nor the Duke of Wharton, it is true, could 
 have had any rational objection to a bishopric, though it were as 
 barren as an apostleship: but neither the Colonel nor the Duke 
 would have cared much for the lawn sleeves, if the drudgery of 
 examinations and visitations had stuck to them, instead of being 
 shaken off upon the chaplain and the archdeacon. From seeing 
 
HIGH SALARIES. 185 
 
 a man take a bishopric like that of Durham, for instance, you 
 cannot, I allow, form any kind of judgment whether he is fond 
 of preaching or no, or whether he ever made a sermon in his 
 life. All you can tell is, that he is fond of sitting with lords, 
 and eating J14,000 a-year. But could you be under the like 
 un&ftrtainty with regard to such a man as Zinzendorf, for ex- 
 ample, who, being a rich man, and a count, chose, for the sake 
 of apostleship, to become a poor man, and predecessor, without 
 a title, to the now bishops of the Moravians? From seeing a 
 man take the seals, with an income not inferior to that of the 
 episcopal palatinate, you cannot, to be sure, pronounce with any 
 certainty whether he does, or does not like the business of 
 a judge; you cannot so much as tell whether he cares for the 
 trouble of tossing the ecclesiastical crumbs, as they drop upon 
 his table, to the Lazaruses that lie begging for them. He 
 may keep causes waiting for a decree, for years, by twenties 
 and thirties at a time, and spiritual flocks without pastors, in the 
 same number, for any security that his acceptance of an office 
 so endowed can give you of his using better diligence. The 
 utmost you can say is, that if he hates business, his aversion to 
 it is not so violent as his affection for the power and dignity of 
 it, not forgetting the £14,000 a-year. But if you saw him ad- 
 ministering justice, as Necker has been managing finance, year 
 after year, and feeding the exchequer instead of feeding on it, 
 would you then conceive it possible that business should be 
 disagreeable to him? Yet, in these cases, the power and dig- 
 nity which are to weigh against aversion are of the brighest and 
 heaviest metal. What would you say if you saw equal pains 
 taken, and with as little profit, by a country justice? 
 
 No man, however dissipated or empty-headed, need, as matters 
 stand at present, have the smallest objection to a seat in either 
 house: but a dissipated or empty-headed man would have very 
 serious objections to it, if idleness and neglect of duly were not 
 part of the privilege of Parliament. Upon such terms, it is true, 
 he need not be paid for what is called serving: he may even be 
 made to pay, and does pay, up to twenty or thirty thousand 
 pounds, for only a chance of it, though not altogether to the right 
 fund. But my judges are not judges for show, like wooden sol- 
 diers, at the court of a German prince who cannot afford to keep 
 live ones. They are not bishops in parlihus infill elium or Jidelium: 
 they are not chancellors of Lancaster or Barataria: they are not 
 judges in eyre, whose jurisdiction lies in nuhibus; and who, were 
 they of wood, instead of flesh and blood without bowels, would 
 spare £5000 a-year to a plundered and insulted people. — iv, 
 373-374. 16* 
 
186 OFFICIAL SALARIES THE SUBJECT OF COMPETITION. 
 
 OFFICIAL SALAEIES AS THE SUBJECT OF COMPE- 
 TITION. 
 
 Between " real service and Us reward"'^ the " exact com- 
 mon measure " is the least quantity of matter of reward that he 
 who is able to render the service consents to take in return for 
 it. This is the measure of all ^n'cfs; this is the measure of the 
 value of all good things that are at once valuable and tangible. 
 This is the measure of the value of all labour, by which things 
 tangible are produced: as also of all labour by which, though 
 nothing tangible is produced, valuable service in some other 
 shape is rendered. This was the common measure, by which 
 the exact value had been assigned to the coat he had on his back. 
 This was the exact common measure of the value of those real 
 services which had been rendered him by the person or persons 
 by whom his coat had by means of one kind of brush, and his 
 shoes by means of two others, been qualified for their attendance 
 on the lips, by which this brilliant bubble was blown out. 
 
 But (says the sophist, or some disciple for him) there is no 
 analogy between the service rendered to the public by a minis- 
 ter of state, and the service rendered to one individual, by ano- 
 ther individual, who removes extraneous matter from his coat, 
 or puts a polish upon his shoes. '^ 
 
 O yes, there is, — and, to the purpose here in question, ana- 
 logy quite sufficient: — 
 
 1. They stand upon the same ground (the two services) in 
 point of economy. There is no more economy in paying 
 ^638, 000 a-year foy the wearer of the coat, if he can be had for 
 nothing, than in paying 3620 for a coat itself, if it can be had 
 for J 10. 
 
 For the wearer of the coat — I mean, of course, for his ser- 
 vices: his services — I mean his services to the public, if so it 
 be that he be capable of rendering any. 
 
 But the misfortune is, that when once the " reward for ser- 
 vice" has swelled to any such pitch, any question about the 
 service itself— what is it? what does it consist in? who is it that 
 is to render it? what desire, or what means, has he of rendering 
 it? of rendering to the public that sort of service, or any sort of 
 service? Any question of this sort becomes a joke. 
 
 Where sinecures, and those " high situations " in which they 
 have now and then become the subjects of conversation among 
 "great characters," are taken for the subject of conversation 
 
 * In allusion to Burke's remark, that he did not know of " an exact 
 common measure between real service and its reward." 
 
^'ATDRAL HISTORY OP OPPICIAL DEPREDATION. 187" 
 
 among little characters in their low situations, questions and 
 answers are apt to become giddy, and to turn round in a circle. 
 What are sinecures of £38,000 a-year good for ? — to maintain 
 the sinecurists. What are the sinecurists good for ■! — to maintain 
 the sinecures. Thus on profane ground. Thus again, on sacred 
 ground:— What are bishoprics good for ? — to support bishops. 
 What are bishops good for 1— to support bishoprics. — v. 294. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE OFFICES AND FILL THEM. 
 
 Made offices are partly the effects, partly the causes, of made 
 business. Create useless work, you create the necessity of use. 
 less hands for the performance of it. 
 
 But it may happen, that, in the first instance, a determination 
 may be taken to add at any rate to the number of hands : that 
 done, there can be no difficulty in adding to the quantity of 
 business for those hands. Take any given instrument, let it be 
 signed by one person and one person only, — here you have but 
 one office : put another person to sign it at another time, and 
 under another official name, receiving of course a fee for this his 
 trouble, here you have two offices : put a third person, three 
 offices; and soon. Before, increase of business produced in- 
 crease of offices : now, increase of offices produces increase of 
 fees. In the latter case, is there, or is there not, any addition 
 made to the quantity of business 1 Answer, Yes, or no ; which 
 ever is most convenient : Yes, because so much more is done ; 
 No, ^ecause what more is done is done to no use, and so does 
 not properly deserve the name of business : it is John doing no- 
 thing, and Thomas helping him. — vii. 306. 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY OF OFFICIAL DEPREDATION. 
 
 Of the masses of emolument in question, viz. those attached to 
 sinecure or overpaid judicial offices, it is the nature to go on in- 
 creasing, as population and wealth increase, from year to year ; 
 and this, even in the way of natural increase, and setting aside 
 whatsoever factitious increase may be contrived to be given to 
 them by the combined ingenuity of the partnership. But by any 
 allowances that should be given in lieu of them, under the name 
 of equivalents, no such increase would be experienced : they 
 would hejixed sums in the nature oipemions. 
 
188 THE VALUE OP IRRESPONSIBLE PATRONAGE. 
 
 Of those ever-increasing masses of emolument, not only the 
 possessors, but the expeclanls, know of course much better than 
 to submit to any commutation, so long as, by any means not 
 punishable, it appears possible to avoid it. 
 
 Pillaging the future as well as the present, the Gavestons and 
 Spenser s of successive ages — nor let the present be forgotten — 
 contrived to obtain in expectancy those masses of ill-collected and 
 ill-bestowed wealth, life after life. Passion and ■policy have here . 
 acted in alliance. Passion seized on the booty : policy rendered 
 it the more secure. The more enormous the prey, the greater and 
 more burdensome would be the compensation necessary to be 
 given for it under the name of an equivalent. So long as the 
 burden falls on men whose afHictions are productive of no dis- 
 turbance to the ease of the man of finance, it tells for nothing. 
 So long as the burden continues to be imposed by a tax which, 
 though beyond comparison more mischievous than any other, 
 was not of his imposition, the man of finance had no personal 
 concern in the matter, and how enormous soever may be the 
 mass of misery produced, it formed no object of his care. But 
 to provide the compensation, if that came to be provided, was so 
 much hard labour to him : while of those he has to deal with and 
 to cajole, the great crowd is composed of such as care not what 
 mischief is produced by a tax, or any thing else they are used to, 
 but cry out of course against every thing of that sort, as of any 
 other sort, when it is new. — v. 99. 
 
 THE VALUE OP IRRESPONSIBLE PATRONAGE,, 
 
 Who is there that does not know that an office in a man's gift 
 has a no less decided marketable value than an office of the same 
 emolument in his possession ? True it is that, compared with the 
 value of the possession, the value of the patronage may be to any 
 amount less : not less true is it, that it may also be, and that it 
 not unfrequently is, fully equal. Let Lord Eldon say, how much 
 less worth to him the many thousands a-year he has put into his 
 son's pocket are, than if it had been his own ? Let Mr. Peel, if 
 he feels bold enough, look into the documents, and tell us, in his 
 place, how many those thousands are. 
 
 To the number of the offices, the emolument of which a man 
 can pocket with his own hand, there are limits : to the number 
 of the offices, the emoluments of which he can thus pocket through 
 other hands, there are no limits ; and, in any number of instances, 
 the protege's life may be worth more than the patron's. 
 
EFFECTS OF OFFICIAL SLOTH. 189 
 
 Who is there that does not know, that the value of an office 
 to the incumbent is directly as the emolument, and inversely as 
 , the labour? Who is there that does not know, that to the patron 
 the value of it is directly as the inaptitude of the protege he has 
 it in his power to put in and keep in it, since the more consum- 
 mate this inaptitude, the less his choice is narrowed? Who is 
 there, for example, that does not know, that it is the union of 
 these two characters that spiritual offices in particular are in- 
 debted for their transcendent value? Who is there that can deny, 
 that while this mode of payment lasts, interest is, in all judges, 
 at daggers-drawn with duty? — that it is from this cause that 
 suits take up as many years as they need do hours, and as many 
 pounds as they need do pence? 
 
 Who is there that can deny, that it is from this cause that our 
 system of judicial procedure is what it is? — and that, through 
 the whole texture of it, — judges having been the manufacturers, 
 —delay, expense, and vexation, having been maximized, for the 
 sake of the profit extractible out of the expense? 
 
 Yes: by such hands made, to no other end could it have been 
 directed. 
 
 The Chief-Justice of the King's Bench, has he not the nomi- 
 nation to the keepership of the prison named after his judicatory? 
 If so, then to the profits of the bench are added the profits of 
 the tap: and the money which justice would have returned to 
 the hands of the creditor, is extracted, through this channel also, 
 into the pockets of the judge. — v, 339. 
 
 EFFECTS OF OFFICIAL SLOTH. 
 
 For the operations of the sinister interest created by the love 
 of ease, every sort of cause, and every sort of judicatory, pre- 
 sents, almost in equal degree, a favourable theatre. 
 
 Instead oUove of ease, say, for shortness, sloth: which, though 
 under the Pagan dispensation, neither god nor goddess, not 
 ranking higher than with syrens,* is not in our days the less 
 powerful; whatsoever might have been her influence in those 
 early times. It is to slotfi that, by official persons of all sorts 
 and sizes, but particularly the highest, sacrifices are made con- 
 tinually, and in all shapes: in all shapes, and in particular in 
 that o( justice, the only one which belongs to the present purpose. 
 
 * Improba Syren 
 
 Desidia. Horace. 
 
190 PROJECTS FOR PAOPER RELIEF. 
 
 Plutus is apt to betray his votaries: to him justice cannot 
 readily be sacrificed but in a tangible shape. Syren Desidia 
 keeps her secrets better: so well indeed, that without hard labour 
 in other quarters, and in no small quantity, sacrifices made to 
 her can seldom be brought to light. Even when a mischance 
 of this sort happens to them, the mischief, be it ever so enor- 
 mous, finds the public — the English public at least — compara- 
 tively indifferent to it. John Bull — the representative of this, 
 most enlightened of all publics — is a person somewhat hard of 
 hearing, and unless by the chink of money, and that a good 
 round sum — the irascible part of his frame is not easily put into 
 a ferment: and, even then, it is not so much by the mischief 
 which the public suffers, be it ever so heavy, as by the sum of 
 money which the wrong-doer pockets, be it ever so light, that 
 his fire is kindled. Mischief, if the truth may be spoken, does 
 not much disquiet him, so long as he sees nobody who is the 
 better for it. — v. 90. 
 
 PROJECTS FOR IMPLEMENTING WAGES BY 
 PAUPER RELIEF.* 
 
 What, in such case, shall be deemed this "full rate or wages," 
 which is to be made up at all events, is a point that seems as 
 necessary as it may be found difficult to be settled. In the com- 
 pass of England and Wales some hundred thousands a-year may 
 be at stake upon this single point. 1. Is it the full rate or wages 
 of the hightesl paid species of labour in the district in question? 
 Certainly not in every case. 2. Is it the "/?/// rate or wages" 
 of the highest paid species of labour where the employment of 
 the individual in question happens to be of that species? If so, 
 we may have bad ship-wrigliis pensioned at 9s. a-week or a 
 guinea, (according as day-work or piece-work is taken for the 
 standard,) or bad mathematical instrument makers at half as much; 
 this therefore was not intended. 3. Is it the "full rate or wages" 
 according to an average taken of the earnings of all the species 
 of employment exercised within the district put together? This, 
 requiring a vast previous assemblage of highly interesting but 
 hitherto uncollected documents, is what (for that as well as other 
 reasons) can hardly have been intended. 4. Is it the "/uZZ rate or 
 wages" earned in the species of employment most abundant in 
 
 • These remarks apply to a Bill brought in by Pitt in 1797, in which 
 there is a clause for giving relief to every man who cannot earn "the full 
 rate or wages usually given in his Parish." 
 
PROJECT FOR PURCHASING COWS TO PAUPERS. 191 
 
 the district, as tiie words " usually given " might seem to import % 
 I should suppose nor that neitiier. 5. Is it the "full rate or 
 tvages" earned in the lowest (meaning the lowest paid) species of 
 employment therein exercised % This I should rather think is 
 what is meant, (or at least upon this view of the diversity would 
 be meant,) because this construction would be the least dange- 
 rous ; but this is not anywhere expressed. 
 
 Take even the lowest paid species of employment, the quantum 
 of the earnings will be found to admit of great variation in great 
 towns (the metropolis for example) compared with distant coun- 
 try places. There are country places in which it is not higher 
 than Is. a day; in London and in the neighbourhood it can 
 hardly be reckoned lower than 2s. With all this enormous 
 difference in the habitual rate of supply, the necessary means 
 of living are scarcely cheaper anywhere than in London. Are 
 so many thousands of bad workmen then, with or without fami- 
 lies, to receive near ^632 a-year as a minimum, when less than 
 £\Q a-year is proved by experience to be enough for good ones ? 
 And who will stay in the country at single allowance if he can 
 secure double allowance only by coming up to London, which, 
 partly by a late Act, partly by this intended Act, every body is 
 enabled to do without disturbance 1 — viii. 443-444. 
 
 ON A PROJECT OF PROVIDING MONEY TO PAU- 
 PERS FOR THE PURCHASE OF COWS.* 
 
 It would be something in the way of security, though surely 
 not much, if the cow were but safely lodged in the cow-house of 
 the indigent to whom the possession of her is to be an inexhaustible 
 spring of affluence. But even this security, slender as it is, is 
 not provided. The capital is to be advanced, not in the shape 
 of the cow, but in the shape of hard money, with which the ob- 
 ject of this extraordinary bounty is left perfectly at liberty to lay 
 in a fund either in milk or gin, according to his taste. 
 
 The cow dies or is stolen, or (what is much more likely) is 
 supposed to be stolen, being clandestinely sold to an obliging pur- 
 chaser at a distance. What is to be done ? " Want of relief^ 
 warranted Vae first cow ; the same cause will necessitate a second 
 — limit who can the succeeding series of cows : The! disappear- 
 ance of the^r«< cow (it may be said) will excite suspicion ; the 
 
 * In Pitt's Bill of 1797, 
 
192 PATENTS rOK INVENTIONS, 
 
 disappearance of the second cow will strengthen suspicion ; 
 true, but upon a mere suspicion without proof' will a family be 
 left to starve ? The utmost security then amounts to this, that 
 to a certain number of successive pensions thus bought out will 
 succeed a pension which will not be bought out. 
 
 By donations or loans of this sort made by gentlemen, of high 
 amount to deserving individuals, selected from such of their 
 tenants or dependants as have been fortunate enough to be com- 
 prised within the circle of their notice, goorf is said to have been 
 done in certain instances. I make no doubt of it. Milk is a 
 wholesome as well as a pleasant beverage ; milk is particularly 
 good for children. Thirty pounds, twenty pounds, or even ten 
 pounds cannot but form a very comfortable accession to the pro- 
 perty of an individual who happens at the time to be suffering 
 under the pressure of indigence. When at his own expense a 
 man administers charity in so large a mass, it would be extra- 
 ordinary indeed if he did not pay a considerable attention to the 
 propriety of the application of it ; and should the object prove less 
 deserving than was supposed, or the benefit less permanent than 
 was hoped, there is at least no immediate perceptible harm done 
 to any assignable individual. But while the hands by which 
 the bounty is to be desflt out remain in the clouds, or were they 
 even lying upon the table, it seems rather too much to expect 
 equ^l attention, or even, in general, sufficient attention, when the 
 praise and the thanks are reaped by the hands which thus dis- 
 seminate the bounty, while the burden of it rests on the shoulders 
 of third parties. — viii. 447. 
 
 PATENTS FOR INVENTIONS. 
 
 With respect to a great number of inventions in the arts, an 
 exclusive privilege is absolutely necessary, in order that what is 
 sown may be reaped. In new inventions, protection against 
 imitators is not less necessary than in established manufactures 
 protection against thieves. He who has no hope that he shall 
 reap, will not take the trouble' to sow. But that which one man 
 has invented, all the world can imitate. Without the assistance 
 of the laws, the inventor would almost always be driven out of 
 the market by his rival, who finding himself, without any ex- 
 pense, in possession of a discovery which has cost the inventor 
 much time and expense, would be able to deprive him of all his 
 deserved advantages, by selling at a lower price. An exclusive 
 
PATENTS FOR INVENTIONS. 193 
 
 privilege is of all rewards the best proportioned, the most na- 
 tural, and the least burdensome. It produces an infinite effect, 
 and it costs nothing. " Grant me fourteen years," says the in- 
 ventor, " that I may reap the fruit of my labours; after this term 
 it shall be enjoyed by all the world." Does the sovereign say, 
 " No, you shall not have it," what will happen? It will be en- 
 joyed by no one, neither for fourteen years nor afterwards: 
 every body will be disappointed — inventors, workmen, con- 
 sumers — every thing will be stifled, both benefit and enjoyment. 
 
 Exclusive patents in favour of inventions have been long 
 established in England. An abuse, however, has crept into the 
 system of granting them, which tends to destroy the advantage 
 derivable from them. This privilege, which ought to be gra- 
 tuitous, has afforded an opportunity for plundering inventors, 
 which the duration of the custom has converted into a right. It 
 is a real conspiracy against the increase of national wealth. 
 
 We may picture to ourselves a poor and timid inventor, after 
 years consumed in labour and uncertainty, presenting himself 
 at the Patent Office to receive the privilege which he has heard 
 that the law bestows upon him. Immediately the great officers 
 of the crown pounce upon him together, as vultures upon their 
 prey: — a solicitor-general, who levies four guineas upon him; a 
 keeper of the privy seal, four guineas and a half; a keeper of 
 another seal, four guineas; a, secretary of state, sixteen guineas; 
 the lord chancellor, who closes the procession, as the first in 
 dignity, so also the first in rapacity, — he cannot tate less than 
 twenty-six guineas.* Need it be added, that in carrying on this 
 process of extortion, resource is had to fraud — that the indivi- 
 dual applying for a patent is referred from office to office, that 
 different pretexts may be afforded for pillage — that not one of 
 these officers, great or small, takes the trouble to read a single 
 word of the farrago of nonsense which they sign, and therefore 
 that the whole parade of consultation is only a farce.t — iii. 
 71-72. 
 
 * If a patent be taten out for each of the three Kingdoms, the expense 
 is estimated at £120 for England, £100 for Scotland, and £125 for Ire- 
 land. Pide Commons' Report on Patents, — Ed. 
 
 t It is scarcely necessary to remark, that in blaming the abuse, no re- 
 proach is intended to be cast upon the individuals, who, finding it esta. 
 blished, profit by it. These fees form as lawful a portion of their emolu- 
 ments as any other. It is, however, to be desired, that in order to put a 
 stop to this insult and oppression, an indemnification were granted at the 
 public expense, equal to the average value of these fees. If it be proper 
 to levy a tax upon patents, it ought, instead of being' levied in advance 
 upon capital, to be postponed till the patent has produced some benefit. 
 17 
 
194 
 
 BOUNTIES. 
 
 In the case of bounties upon exportation, the error is not so 
 palpable as in that oi bounties upon production, but the evil is 
 greater. In both cases, the money is equally lost: the differ- 
 ence is in the persons who receive it. What you pay for pro- 
 duction, is received by your countrymen' — what you pay for ex- 
 portation, you bestow upon strangers. It is an ingenious scheme 
 for inducing a foreign nation to receive tribute from you without 
 being aware of it; a little like that of the Irishman who passed 
 his light guinea, by cleverly slipping it between two halfpence. 
 ********** 
 
 The Irishman who passed his light guinea was very cunning; 
 but there have been French and English more cunning than he, 
 who have taken care not be imposed upon by his trick. When 
 a ctfn-ning individual perceives you have gained some point with 
 him, his imagination mechanically begins to endeavour to get 
 the advantage of you, without examining whether he would not 
 do better were he to leave you alone. Do you appear to believe 
 that the matter in question is advantageous to you? He is con- 
 vinced by this circumstance that it is proportionally disadvan- 
 tageous to him, and that the safest line of conduct for him to 
 adopt, is to be guided by your judgment. Well acquainted with 
 this disposition of the human mind, an Englishman laid a 
 wager, and placed himself upon the Pont Neuf, the most public 
 thoroughfare in Paris, offering to the passengers a crown of six 
 francs for a piece of twelve sous. During half a day he only 
 sold two or three. 
 
 Since individuals in general are such dupes to> their self-mis- 
 trust, is it strange that governments, having to manage interests 
 which they so little understand, and of which they are so jea- 
 lous, should have fallen into the same errors? A government, 
 believing itself clever, has given a bounty upon the exportation 
 of an article, in order to force the sale of it ajnong a foreign na- 
 tion: what does this other nation in consequence? Alarmed at 
 the sight of this danger, it takes all possible methods for its pre- 
 vention. When it has ventured to prohibit the article, everv 
 thing is done. It has refused the six-franc pieces for twelve 
 sous. When it has not dared to prohibit it, it has balanced this 
 hounty by a counter-bounty upon some article that it. exports. 
 Not daring to refuse the crowns of six francs for twelve sous, it 
 has cleverly slipped some little diamond between the two pieces 
 of money — and thus the cheat is cheated. — iii. 62-63. 
 
FALLACY OF COLONIAL MONOPOLIES. 195 
 
 FALLACY OF COLONIAL MONOPOLIES.* 
 
 Does the monopoly you give yourselves against the growers 
 of sugar so much as keep the price of sugar lower than it 
 would be otherwise 1 — not a sixpence. Lower than the price at 
 which the commodity is kept by the average rate of profit on 
 trade in general, no monopoly can reduce the price of this com- 
 modity any more than of any other, for any length of time: you 
 may keep your subjects from selling their sugars elsewhere, but 
 you cannot force them to raise it for you at a loss. Lower 
 than this natural price, no monopoly can ever keep it: down to 
 this price, natural competition cannot fail to reduce it sooner or 
 later, without monopoly. Customers remaining as they were, 
 without increase of the number of traders there can be no re- 
 dHction of price. Monopoly, that is, exclusion of customers, 
 has certainly no tendency to produce increase of the number of 
 traders : it may pinch the profits of those whom it first falls 
 upon, but that is not the way to invite others. Monopoly, ac- 
 cordingly, as far as it does any thing, produces mischief with- 
 out remedy. High prices on the other hand — the mischief 
 against which monopoly is employed as a remedy — high prices, 
 produced by competition among customers, cannot in any de- 
 gree produce inconvenience, without laying a proportionate 
 foundation for the cure. From high profits in trade comes in- 
 flux of traders — from influx of traders, competition among tra- 
 ders — from competition among traders, reduction of prices; till 
 the rate of profit in the trade in question is brought down to 
 ihe same level as in others. 
 
 Were it possible for monopoly to keep prices lower than 
 they would be otherwise, would it be possible for any body to 
 tell how much lower, and how many sixpences a-year were 
 saved to sugar-eaters by so many millions imposed upon the 
 people I No, never: for since, where the monopoly subsists 
 against the producers, there is nothing but the monopoly to 
 prevent accession of, and competition among the producers, 
 competition runs along with the monopoly; and to prove that 
 any part of the effect is produced by the monopoly, and not by 
 the competition, is impossible. 
 
 Oh, but we have, not done with them yet. We give ourselves 
 another monopoly — we give ourselves the monopoly of their 
 custom, and so we make them buy things dearer of us than 
 they would otherwise, besides buying things of us which other- 
 wise they would buy of other people, and so we make them pay 
 
 * Address to the citizens of Francs in 1793. 
 
196 FALLACY OP COLONIAL MONOPOLIES, 
 
 US for governins; them. Mere illusion— In the articles which 
 you can make better and cheaper than foreigners can, which 
 you can furnish them with upon better terms than foreigners 
 can, not a penny do you get in consequence of the monopoly, 
 more than you would without it. You prevent their buying 
 their goods of any body but your own people : true : but what 
 does this signify ■! you do not force them to buy of any one or 
 more of your own people, to the exclusion of the rest. Your own 
 people then have still the faculty of underselling one another 
 without stint, and they have the same inducement to exercise 
 that faculty under the monopoly as they would have without it. 
 It is still the competition that sets the price. In this case as in 
 the other, the monopoly is a chip in porridge. It is still the 
 proportion of the profit of these branches of trade to the ave- 
 rage rate of profit in trade that regulates this competition: it is 
 still the quantity of the capital which there is to be employed 
 in trade that regulates the average rate of profit in trade. 
 
 In the instance of such articles as you can not make better or, 
 cheaper than foreigners can, (in the instance of articles which 
 you can not furnish them with on better terms than foreigners 
 can,) it is still the same illusion, though perhaps not quite so 
 transparent. Not a penny does the nation get, (I mean the to- 
 tal number of individuals concerned in productive industry of all 
 kinds,) not a penny does the nation get by this preference of bad 
 articles to good ones, more than it would otherwise. In France, 
 any more than any where else, people do not get more by the 
 goods they produce than if there were no such monopoly ; for 
 if the rate of profit in the articles thus favoured were higher 
 one moment, competition would pull it down the next. All that 
 results from the monopoly you thus give yourselves of the cus- 
 tom of your colonies is, that goods of all sorts are somewhat 
 worse for the mopey all over the world than they would be 
 otherwise. People in France are engaged to produce, for the 
 consumption of the French Colonies, goods in which they suc- 
 ceed not so well as England, for example, instead of pro- 
 ducing for their own consumption, or that of some other nation, 
 goods in which they succeed better than England. People in 
 England, on the other hand, being so far kept from producing 
 the goods they could have succeeded best in, are in so far 
 turned aside to the production of goods in which they do 
 not succeed so well : and thus it is all the world over. The 
 happiness of mankind is not much impaired, perhaps, by 
 the difference between wearing goods of one pattern, and 
 goods of another ; but, though much Is not lost, perhaps, 
 
FALLACY OP COLONIAL MONOPOLIES. 197 
 
 to any body by the arrangement, what is certain is, that 
 nothing is gained by it to any body, and particularly to France. 
 
 Will you believe experience "! Turn to the United States. Be- 
 fore the separation, Britain had the monopoly of their trade : 
 upon the sepEiration of course she lost it. How much less is their 
 trade with Britain now than then ? On the contrary, it is much 
 greater. 
 
 All this' while, is not the monopoly against the conolists, clog- 
 ged with a counter-monopoly ? To make amends to the colonists 
 for their being excluded from other marlsets, are not the people 
 in France forbidden to take colony produce from other colonies, 
 though they could get it ever so much cheaper 1 If so, would not 
 the benefit to France, if there were any from the supposed gain- 
 ful monopoly, be outweighed by the burden of that which is 
 acknowledged to be burdensome 1 Yes — the benefit is imagi- 
 nary, and it is clogged with a burden which is real. 
 
 Monopoly therefore and counter-monopoly taken together, 
 sugar must come the dearer to sugar-eaters, instead of cheaper : 
 to a certain degree for a constancy ; and much more occasionally, 
 when the dearness occasioned by a failure of crops in the French 
 colonies is, by the counter-monopoly against France, prevented 
 from being relieved by imports from other colonies, where crops 
 have been more favourable. 
 
 If monopoly favoured cheapness, which it does not, it would 
 favour it to the neglect of another object, steadiness of price, 
 which is of more importance. It is not a man's not having sugar 
 to eat that distresses him ; Crrasus, Apicius, Heliogabalus had no 
 sugar to eat : what distresses a man, is his not being able to get 
 what he has been used to, or not so much of it as he has been 
 used to. The monopoly against the French colonies, were it to 
 contribute ever so much to the cheapness of the price, could con- 
 tribute nothing to the steadiness of it : on the contrary, in con- 
 sequence of the counter-monopoly it is clogged with, its tendency 
 is to perpetuate the opposite inconvenience, variation. Any mo- 
 nopoly which France gives herself against her colonies, will not 
 prevent any of those accidents in consequence of which sugar is 
 produced in less abundance in those colonies than at others : and 
 when it is scarce there, the monopoly against France will pre- 
 vent France from getting from other places where it is to be had 
 cheaper. ' ^ 
 
 How much dearer is sugar in countries which have no colonies 
 than in those which have ? Let those inquire who think it worth 
 the while- They will then see the utmost which in any supposi- 
 
 17* 
 
198 
 
 TRADE THE CHILD OF CAPITAL. 
 
 tion it would be possible for the body of sugar-eaters in France 
 -to lose. Not that this loss could amount to any thing like the 
 above difference : for, in as far as those countries get their sugar 
 from monopolized colonies, which must be through the medium 
 of some monopolizing country, they get it loaded with the occa- , 
 sional dearth produced thus by the effects of the counter- mono- 
 poly above-mentioned, and loaded more or less with constant im- 
 port taxes, besides the expense of circuitous freight and multipli- 
 ed merchant's profit. 
 
 May not monopoly then force down prices ? Most certainly. 
 Will ,it not then keep them down ? By no means. If I have 
 goods I can make no use of; and there is but one man in the world 
 that I can sell them to, sooner than not sell them, though they 
 cost me a hundred pounds to make, I will sell them for sixpence.^ 
 Thus monopoly will beat down prices. — But shall I go on making 
 them and selling' them at that rate ? Not if I am in my senses. 
 Thus monopoly will not keep down prices. — Hence then comes 
 all the error in favour of monopolies — from not attending to the 
 difference between forcing down prices and keeping them down. 
 
 When an article is dear, it is by no means a matter of indiffer- 
 ence, whether it is made so by freedom or by force. Dearth 
 which is natural is a misfortune ; dearth which is created is a 
 grievance. Suffering takes quite a different colour, when the 
 sense of oppression is mixed with it. Even if the effect of a mo- 
 nopoly is nothing, its inefficiency as a remedy does not take 
 away its malignity as a grievance. — iv. 412-413. 
 
 TRADE THE CHILD OP CAPITAL.* 
 
 I will tell a great and important, though too much neglected 
 truth. Trade is the child op capital : In proportion to the 
 quantity of capital a country has at its disposal, will, in every 
 country, be the quantity of its trade. While you have no more 
 capital employed in trade than you have, all the power on earth 
 cannot give you more trade : while you have the capital you 
 have, all the power upon earth cannot prevent your having the 
 trade you have. It may take one shape or another shape ; it 
 may give you more foreign goods to consume, or more home 
 goods ; it may give you more of one sort of goods, or more of 
 another ; but the quantity and value of the goods of all sorts it 
 gives you, will always be the same, without any difference which 
 
 * Address to the citizens of Franco in 1793. 
 
TRADE THE CHILD OP CAPITAL. 199 
 
 it is possible to ascertain or worth while to think about. — 1 am 
 a merchant, I have a capital of £10,000 in trade: Suppose the 
 whole Spanish West Indies laid open to me, could I carry on 
 more trade with my £10,000 than I do now? Suppose the 
 _French West Indies shut against me; would my £10,000 be 
 worth nothing? If every foreign market were shut up against 
 me without exception, even then would my £10,000 be worth 
 nothing? If there were no sugar to be bought, there is at any 
 rate land to be improved. If a hundred pounds' worth of sugar 
 be more valuable than a hundred pounds' worth of corn, butch- 
 er's meat, wine or oil, still corn, butcher's meat, wine and oil 
 are not absolutely without their value. If article after article 
 you were driven out of every article of your foreign trade, the 
 worst that can happen to you would be the being reduced to lay 
 out so much more than otherwise you would have laid out in 
 the improvement of your land. The supposition is imaginary 
 and impossible: but if it were true, is there any thing in it so 
 horrible? 
 
 Yet — it is quantity of capital, not extent, of market, that de- 
 termines the quantity of trade. Open a new market, you do 
 not, unless by accident, increase the sum of trade. Shut up an 
 old market, you do not, unless by accident, or for the moment, 
 diminish the sum of trade. In what case then is the sum of trade 
 increased by a new market? If the rate of clear profit upon the 
 capital employed in the new trade is greater than it would have 
 been in any old one, and not otherwise. But the existence of 
 this extra profit is always taken for granted, never proved. It 
 may indeed be true by accident: but another thing is taken for 
 granted which is never true; it is, that the whole of the profit 
 made upon the capital, which, instead of being employed in 
 some old trade, is employed in this new one, is so much addition 
 to the sum of national profit that would otherwise have been 
 made: What is only transferred is considered as created. If 
 after making 12 per cent, upon a capital of £10,000 in an old 
 trade, a man made but 10 per cent, upon the same capital in a 
 new trade, who does not see, that instead of gaining £1200 
 a-year, he, and through him the nation he belongs to, loses £200 
 by the change: and so it is, if instead of one such merchant 
 there were a hundred. Instead of this £200 a-year loss, your 
 comiles de commerce and boards of trade set down to the na- 
 tional account £1000 a-year gain: especially if it be to a very 
 distant and little-known part of the world, such as a southern 
 whale-fishery, a revolted Spanish colony, or a Nootka Sound: 
 and it is well if they do not set down the whole capital of 
 £10,000 as gain into the bargain. — iv. 411. 
 
200 TAXATION. 
 
 Should the new market be more advantageous than the old 
 ones, in this case the profit will be greater — the trade may be- 
 come more extended; but the existence of this extra profit is 
 always supposed but never proved.* 
 
 The mistake consists in representing all the profit of a new 
 trade as so much added to the amount of national profit, without 
 .considering that the sanje capital employed in any other branch 
 of trade would not have been unproductive. People suppose 
 themselves to have created, vhen they liave only transferred. 
 A minister pompously boasts of certain new acquisitions, certain 
 establishments upon far distant shores; and if the adventures 
 which have been made have yielded a million of profit, for ex- 
 ample, he does not fail to believe that he has opened a new 
 source of national wealth; he supposes that this million of profit 
 would not have existed without him, whilst he may have occa- 
 sioned a loss: he will have done so, if the capital employed in 
 this new trade have only yielded ten per cent., and that employed 
 in the ordinary trade have yielded twelve. 
 
 The answer [to the alleged profitableness of colonies] may be 
 reduced to two points: — 1. That the posse.ssion of colonies is 
 pot necessary to the carrying on of trade with them; 2. That 
 even when trade is not carried on with the colonies, the capital 
 which such trade would have required, will be applied as pro- 
 ductively to other undertakings. — iii. 54. 
 
 TAXATION. 
 
 Once upon a time-^in the senate-house of Gotham — a motion 
 was made, to impose upon every body a tax, and put the whole 
 produce of it into every body's pocket. Hear him! hear him! 
 hear him! was the cry. The motion passed by general accla- 
 mation. Quere, Of the Gotham senate-house, what was the 
 distance from St. Stephen's? — v. 269, 
 
 • Bryan Kdwards, in his History of the West Indies, even in exagge- 
 rating the utility of colonies, does not suppose the rate of profit upon 
 capitals employed in the plantations greater than seven per cent., whilst 
 it is fifteen per cent, upon capital employed in Ihe mother-country.t 
 
 + This fifteen per cent, was taken from pne of the finance pamphlets of 
 Treasury Secretary Rose. Some years before, to a question put by me to 
 the late Sir Francis Baring, the answer was, six per cent. This meant, 
 of course, over and above interest, tberi at five per cent. — Communicated 
 by the Author. 
 
RELATION OP LUXURY TO NATIONAL POWER. 201 
 
 RELATION OP LUXURY TO NATIONAL POWER. 
 
 A stock of instruments of mere enjoyment presupposes, on 
 the part of each individual, a preassured stock_ of the articles of 
 subsistence. The stock of articles of subsistence capable of being 
 produced and kept up in a country, in any other view than th^t 
 of exchange, has its limits : it can never extend much beyond the 
 stock necessary for the subsistence of the inhabitants — the stock 
 of instruments of mere enjoyment is without limit. 
 
 It is only in respect and in virtue of the quantity of the stock 
 of instruments of mere enjoyment, that one country can exceed 
 another country in wealth. The quantity of wealth is as the 
 quantity of its instruments of enjoyment. 
 
 In cases where, two articles of subsistence contributing in an 
 equal degree to that end, one contributes in a greater degree to 
 enjoyment, (as is testified by the greater price given for it,) it 
 may be considered as possessed of a compound value,, which by 
 analysis may be resolved as it were into two values ; one belong- 
 ing to it in its capacity of an article of subsistence, the other in 
 its capacity of an article of mere enjoyment.* 
 
 It is out of the fund for enjoyment that the portion of wealth 
 allotted to defence, and the portion, if any, allotted to security 
 in respect of subsistence, must be taken : for out of the portion 
 allotted to subsistence none can be spared. 
 
 But though security increase in proportion as opulence in- 
 creases, and inequality be an inseparable accompaniment of opu- 
 lence, security does not increase in proportion as inequality in- 
 creases. Take away all the ranks in respect of opulence, be- 
 tween the highest and . the lowest^ — the inequality will be in- 
 creased, but the degree of security will be diminished. 
 
 Luxury is not only an inseparable accompaniment to opu- 
 lence, but increases in proportion to it. As men rise one above 
 another, in the scale of opulence, the upper one may, without 
 excess, give into expenses which those below cannot give into 
 without prodigality. It is therefore no more desirable that luxu- 
 
 * In the character of an article of subsistence, a pound of potatoes and 
 a pound ofpine-applcs may stand pretty nearly upon the same level; — but a 
 single pound of pine-applea may sell for the same price as one hundred 
 pounds of potatoes, — the pound of potatoes selling for a half-penny, and 
 the pound of pine-apples for one hundred halfpence. This being the case 
 out of the hundred halfpence, which is the price and value of the pound 
 of pine-apples, one half-penny goes to subsistence, and the remaining 
 ninety-nine to mere enjoyment. It is the same thing as if the halfpenny 
 had been employed in the purchase of another pound of potatoes, and the 
 remaining ninety-nine in the purchase of perfumed powder for the hair, 
 instead of being put into the mouth for nourishmenl. 
 
202 THE LUSTRE AND DIGNITY OF THE CROWN. 
 
 ry should be repressed, than it is that opulence should be re- 
 pressed — that is, that security should be diminished. If it were 
 desirable that luxury should be repressed, it could be done no 
 otherwise than either by depriving the more opulent classes of a 
 part of their property in this view, or coercing them in the use 
 of it. It would be less unreasonable to restrain prodigality where- 
 ever it is to be found, than to restrain the highest imaginable 
 pitch of luxury on the part of those whose expense does not ex- 
 ceed their income. — iii. SZ-SS. 
 
 THE "LUSTRE," "DIGNITY," &c., OF THE CROWN. 
 
 Viewed in their true point of view, and understood in their 
 literal sense — these same words, hisfre and splendour, may be 
 not altogether useless : they are not altogether uninstructive. 
 Of lustre and spkndotir, taken in this sense, what is the effect 1 
 To dazzle the eyes of beholders : to cause them to see the ob- 
 jects in question confusedly and falsely : in a word, to put these 
 same beholders into, and keep them in a state of delusion. 
 
 Ancient history tells of an " ancient, sage philosopher," who 
 took it into his head that he should, somehow or other, be the 
 better off for being stark blind ; and, accordingly, contrived to 
 make himself so by means of the splendour and lustre ofa brass 
 basin. Of this philosopher the philosophy will, without much 
 difficulty, be pronounced "false philosophy ;" and surely, with 
 as little difficulty, may that 'philosophy be pronounced/«/se, which 
 prescribes the consigning human creatures by thousands to lin- 
 gering death, for the support of the lustre, and splendour, and 
 dignity oi coronets, not to speak oi crowns. 
 
 So much for dignity, lustre, and splendour ,■ or, lustre, splen- 
 dour and dignity. Now for honour and glory. 
 
 As, on their part, dignity, lustre, and splendour, are, in our 
 proverbial language, " birds of a feather," and as such " flock 
 together," — so, on their part, are honour and glory. These de- 
 rive from their relation to war the chief part of their relative use : 
 jn them may be seen, at once, a seed and a fruit of it. 
 
 In honour, we in England possess four letters which, of them- 
 selves, will, at any time, aflftrd a sufficient ground and justifica- 
 tion for war, — for war with anybody or every body. Such, at 
 any rate, was the aphorism — pronounced once, at least upon a 
 time — oftener, for aught I know — in our honourable House, by 
 
HOW TO MAKE DSE OF DECEPTIOOS TERMS. 203 
 
 the then leader, and the now Idol, of our Whigs.* Of the state 
 of things called war, — which being interpreted, is homicide, de- 
 predation, and destruction — human suffering produced in all 
 'manner of shapes upon the largest scale, — of this so illustriously- 
 serviceable state of things, the efficient causes might, all but one, 
 according to his principles, be suffered to remain without effects : 
 not so any the slightest wound received' by honour. 
 
 Of this rhetoric, what is the correspondent logic? Answer — 
 That whenever, and to whatever end of your own, and against 
 whatsoever nation, you take a fiincy to make wkr, — if, being a 
 statesman, you condescend to plead a justification for it, you 
 stand up, give the appropriate sound to the four letters, h, o, n, 
 and r, and your justification is made: always understood, that 
 you must pronounce the word with a certain degree of loudness, 
 and that while you are pronouncing it, your cheeks must exhibit 
 a certain degree of intumescence, and your eyes' a certain degree 
 oi fierceness. — iv. 438. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE' tTSE OF DECEPTIOtJS TERMS. 
 
 1. In the war department, — honour and glory. 
 
 2. In international affairs honour, glory,' and dignity. 
 
 3. In the financial department, — liberality. It being always 
 at the expense of unwilling contributors that this virtue (for 
 among the virtues it has its place in .dristolle) is exercised — for 
 liberality, depredation may, in perhaps every case, and without 
 any impropriety, be substituted. 
 
 4. In the higher parts of all official departments, dignify — 
 dignity, though not in itself depredation, operates, as often as the 
 word is used, as a pretence for, and thence as a cause of depre- 
 dation. Wherever you see dignity, be sure that money is re- 
 quisite for the support of it; and that, in so fer as the dignitary's 
 own money is regarded as insufficient, public money, — raised by 
 taxes' imposed on all other individuals, on the principle oi liberal- 
 ity, — must be found for the supply of it. 
 
 Exercised at a man's own expense, liberality may be, or may 
 not be, according to circumstances, a virtue : — exercised at the 
 expense of the public, it nevefcan be any thing better than vice. 
 Exercised at a man's own expense, — whether it be accompanied 
 with prudence or no — whether it be accompanied or not with be- 
 
 ♦ Wrillun in 1830. 
 
204 HOW TO MAKE USE OP DBCBPTIOUS TERMS. 
 
 neficence, — it is, at any rate, disinterestedness : — exercised at the 
 expense of the public, it is pure selfishness : it is, in a word, de- 
 predation. Money, or money's worth, is taken from the public 
 to purchase, for the use of the liberal man, respect, affection, * 
 gratitude, with its eventual fruits in the shape of services of all 
 sorts — in a word, reputation, power. 
 
 When you have a practice or measure to condemn, find out 
 some more general appellative, within the import of which the 
 obnoxious practice or measure in question cannot be denied to 
 be included, and to which you, or those whose interests and pre- 
 judices you have espoused, have contrived to annex a certain 
 degree of unpopularity, in so much that the name of it has con- 
 tracted a dyslogistic quality — has become a bad name. 
 
 Take, for example, improvement and innovation. Under its 
 own name, to pass censure on any improvement, might be too 
 bold : applied to such an object, any expressions of censure you 
 could employ might lose their force ; employing them, you would 
 seem to be running on in the track of self-contradiction and non- 
 sense. 
 
 But improvement means something new, and so does innova- 
 tion. Happily for your purpose, innovation has contracted a bad 
 sense ; it means something which is new, and bad at the same 
 time. Improvement, it is true, in indicating something new, in- 
 dicates something good at the same time; and therefore, if the 
 thing in question be good as well as new, innovation is not a 
 proper term for it. However, as the idea of novelty was the only 
 idea originally attached to the term innovation, and the only one 
 which is directly expressed in the etymology of it, you may still 
 venture to employ the word innovation, since no man can readily 
 and immediately convict your appellation of being an improper 
 one upon the face of it. 
 
 With the appellation thus chosen for the purpose of passing 
 condemnation on the measure, he by whom it has been brought 
 to view in the character of an improvement, is not (it is true) 
 very likely to be well satisfied : but of this you could not have 
 had any expectation. What you want is a pretence which your 
 own partisans can lay hold of, for the purpose of deducing from 
 it a colourable warrant for passing upon the improvement that 
 censure which you are determined, and they if not determined, 
 are disposed, and intend to pass on it. — ii. 437. 
 
AMBIGUITY AND OBSCURITY, S05 
 
 CONNEXION BETWEEN THOUGHT AND 
 LANGUAGE. 
 
 In regard to language, two perfectly distinguishable functions 
 may be observed — the intransitive and the transitive. 
 
 In respect of its intransitive function, it, as it wete, amalga- 
 mates itself with thought; it forms no more than a sort of 
 clothing to thought. 
 
 In respect of its transitive function, it is the medium of com- 
 munication between one mind and another, or others. — viii. 
 228-229. 
 
 So much more conspicuous is the transitive use of discourse, 
 or language, that in comparison with it, the intransitive seems 
 scarcely to have obtained notice. 
 
 In, importance, however, it is second only to the transitive 
 use. By its transitive use, the collection of these signs is only 
 the vehicle of thought; by its intransitive use, it is an instrument 
 employed in the creation and fixation of thought itself. Un- 
 clothed as yet in words, or stripped of them, thoughts are but 
 dreams: like the shifting clouds of the sky, they float in the 
 mind one moment, and vanish out of it the next But for these 
 fixed and fixative signs, nothing that ever bore the name of art 
 or science could ever have come into existence. Whatsoever 
 may have been the more remote and recondite causes, it is to 
 the superior amplitude to vyhich, in respect of the use made of 
 it in his own mind, man has been able to extend the mass of 
 his language, that, as much as to any thing else, man, it should 
 seem, stands more immediately indebted for whatsoever supe- 
 riority in the scale of perfection and intelligence he possesses, 
 as compared with those animals who come nearest to him in 
 this scale. 
 
 Without language, not only would men have been incapable 
 of comrauuicating each man his thoughts to other men, but, 
 compared with what he actually possesses, the stock of his own 
 ideas would, in point of number, have been as nothing; while 
 each of them, taken by itself, would have been as flitting and 
 indeterminate as those of the animals which he deals with at 
 his pleasure. — viii. 301. 
 
 AMBIGUITY AND OBSCURITY. 
 
 Ambiguity is where the effect of the expression employed 
 is to present in conjunction divers imports, in such sort, that 
 18 
 
206 RULES FOR CLEARNESS IN STYLE. 
 
 though, to the individual mind in question it appear clear enough 
 that in one or other of them is to be found the import which by 
 the legislator was intended to be conveyed, yet which it is that 
 was so intended to be conveyed, is matter of doubt. 
 
 Obscurity is where, of the expression employed, the effect is, 
 for the present at least, not to present any one import, as that 
 which by the author or authors of the portion or portions of law 
 in question, was on the occasion in question intended to be con- 
 veyed. 
 
 In the case of ambiguity, the mind is left to float between twp 
 or some other determinate number of determinate imports: — in 
 the case of obscurity, the mind is left to float amongst an inde- 
 terminate, and it may be an infinite number of imports. Ob- 
 scurity is ambiguity taken at its maximum. — iii. 239. 
 
 RULES FOR CLEARNESS IN STYLE. 
 
 Rule I. When the language affords a word appropriated ex- 
 clusively to the expression of the import which alone it is your 
 intention to express, avoid employing any word, which is alike 
 applicable to the expressing of that import, and a different one 
 which may require to be distinguished from it. 
 
 Examples: — Substantives, adjectives, adverbs, — in the in- 
 stance of all these parts of speech, frequent breaches of this rule 
 may be found. 
 
 I. Substantives. — \. The word taste employed instead of the 
 word relish. To relish a thing is to taste it with pleasure. Do 
 you relish this peach? In this question there is no ambiguity, 
 not even for a moment. But instead of this oftentimes we 
 find, — Do you taste this peach? and so in the case of almost 
 any other source of pleasure; for example, a poem, a sonata, a 
 building, a landscape. 
 
 In the French language there exists no appropriate word by 
 which pleasure is represented as an accompaniment of the per- 
 ception indicated; no word expressive of, 1 taste with pleasure. 
 Gouter is to taste; and for to relish there is again this word, 
 and no other. In French, therefore, this imperfection, this am- 
 biguity and inadequacy, this incompleteness, and consequent 
 incorrectness of expression, is the result of necessity. In the 
 word taste, when employed instead of the word relish, this im- 
 perfection is needlessly and inelegantly copied. Why? An- 
 swer: From affectation and vain-glory, to give the hearer or 
 reader to understand that the speaker or writer is so well ac- 
 quainted with that foreign language, that it is more readily pre- 
 sent to his memory than his own language. 
 
RULES FOR CLEARNESS IN STYLE. 207" 
 
 11. Adjectives. — Either employed instead of each. To the 
 word either belongs an exclusive signification, which belongs 
 not to the word each. Where the idea of exclusion is not in- 
 tended to be conveyed, how slovenly and absurd is it to employ 
 a word by which the exclusion is expressed? Yet of negligence 
 in this shape, examples are continually occurring. 
 
 Poetry is the species of composition in which it is most fre- 
 quent. There it has its excuse, — 1. In cases where the mono- 
 syllable each would not, so it may be that the dissyllable either 
 will suit the measure. 2. In poetry, distinctness is less requi- 
 site than in prose. A uniform distinctness would even be incom- 
 patible with the nature of the composition, and fatal to the design 
 of it. To produce, and keep up in the mind, confusion, so it be 
 but accompanied with pleasure, is an object not of aversion, but 
 of endeavour and study. 
 
 To affectation may the sin against propriety be imputed in 
 this case, as well as in the last preceding one. 
 
 In saying taste, when he means relish, a man pleases himself 
 with the thought of showing how familiarly he is acquainted 
 with the langufge of France. 
 
 In saying either when he means each, a man pleases himself 
 with the thought of showing how familiarly he is acquainted 
 with the language of poetry. 
 
 Affectation the genus, pedantry the species; formerly the 
 dress most frequently worn by pedantry was Greek and Latin; 
 latterly, it is French and poetry. 
 
 To the ambiguity attached to this impropriety, one circum- 
 stance alone operates in some measure as a palliative. If so it 
 be, that for predicating what you meant to predicate alike of two 
 things, A and B, the word you have employed is a word by 
 which one of them is excluded: conceive the word repeated, 
 then, one after the other, they are both of them comprised. 
 First, introduce A without B, then introduce B without A, — both 
 of them are introduced; but how much better would it not be if, 
 without any such unintended exclusion, both were introduced 
 at once. 
 
 .^U, every, each, either, — these collective adjectives are none 
 of them absolutely incapable of being employed for and instead 
 of any of the rest; but they have each of them its appropriate 
 and most proper sense. 
 
 Thus it is throughout, in regard to words which with reference 
 to one another, in common acceptance and discourse, pass for 
 synonyms. Take any two of them; by neither, perhaps, is ex- 
 actly the same idea expressed as is expressed by the other. In 
 
208 RULES FOR CLEARNESS IN STYLE: 
 
 many instances, however, so it is that without impropriety, and 
 without inconvenience, one of them, perhaps either, may be em- 
 ployed instead of the other. 
 
 III. The word future employed instead of the word suhse- 
 quint. Future and subsequent are both of them names of rela- 
 tions, terms of reference. By each of them, two portions of time, 
 an antecedent and a consequent, are brought to view. By the 
 term subsequent, the point of time brought to view in the charac- 
 ter of an antecedent, is that which, with reference to the state of 
 things or transaction spoken of, was present; this alone, and 
 not the time at which that same state of things or transaction, 
 is spoken of Thus stands the matter, in so far as concerns 
 the word subsequent. In the use of it nothing of ambiguity is to 
 be found. 
 
 Now as to the term future; but for the context, — from which, 
 upon reflection, it may be concluded that the time from which 
 the futurity is reckoned, was the time when the state of things or' 
 transaction spoken of was present, — that time would always be 
 the time in which the discourse, if oral was spoken, if in writing 
 was written. 
 
 From the promiscuous use made of these two words, suited to 
 very different purposes, confusion and absurdity are continually 
 arising. 
 
 IV. Restrictives, such as alone and onli/. By these words, 
 what is constantly understood is, that the purpose for which they 
 are employed is the narrowing the import of some word or other 
 to which they are respectively annexed ; that which in many 
 cases cannot be collected but from the context, nor from the 
 context without some difficulty, is, to which, of all the words in 
 the sentence, the restriction is meant to be applied. 
 
 1. Substantive in the nominative case, (i. e. name of the agent.) 
 
 2. Adjective agreeing with do.,^". e. quality ascribed to the agent.) 
 
 3. Verb. 4. Substantive in the accusative case, name of the 
 patient. 5. Adjective, agreeing with do., (i. e. quality of the 
 patient.) 6. Adverb, in the character of the name of a quality, 
 of a quality annexed to one or other of the adjectives or to tlie 
 verb ; frequently to any one of these, with more or less propriety, 
 may the restriction be considered as applicable. 
 
 In English, what thickens the confusion is, the indeterminate 
 character of the restrictives, cil.one and only. Each of them is 
 employed sometimes-in the character of an adjective, sometimes 
 in the character of an adverb; to exhibit the different cases in 
 which each, in contradiction to the other, is most proper, would 
 of itself be a task of no inconsiderable length. 
 
 Required to exhibit so many forms, by means of which in the 
 
RULES FOR CLEARNESS IN STYLE. 209 
 
 several cases, where the restriction is meant to be applied exclu- 
 sively to the objects respectively signified by scleral parts of 
 speech, it may in such sort be applied to these several subjects, 
 that no misapplication whatsoever, howsoever transient and mo- 
 mentary, can take place. 
 
 To solve this problem would be a task of no inconsiderable 
 length and labour, — but at the same time of no inconsiderable use. 
 
 If of the words alone, and only, the one were always an ad- 
 jective, the oth.er always an adverb, the difficulty of the task 
 would be much less than it is ; but, unfortunately, as has been 
 just observed, no such constant distinction has place. 
 
 V. Ordinals : more especially the word ^rs(. 
 
 Of the aptitude of this term to involve in ambiguity the import 
 of the sentence in which it is employed, the causes are of the 
 same nature in this instance, as in that of the restrictives, alone 
 and only, viz. — 
 
 1 . Uncertainty of the part of speech, and thence of the sub- 
 ject, to which the attributive is meant to be applied.' 
 
 2. Uncertainty in regard to the part of speech to which it is 
 meant to be considered as belonging, viz whether an adjective or 
 an adverb. 
 
 Example of the mode in which the ambiguity may be avoided. 
 
 1. Ambiguous expression. — Columbus first saw Hispaniola. 
 
 2. Correspondent pair of sentences, by which the existence of 
 the ambiguity, and at the same time, the mode of avoiding it, are 
 indicated. 
 
 (1.) Columbus was the first person who ever saw Hispaniola. 
 
 (2.) Of the islands now called the West India Islands, His- 
 paniola was the first that Columbus discovered. 
 
 The plural number is, in a particular degree, liable to be pro- 
 ductive of perplexity and misstatement. 
 
 Rule II. For remedy, substitute the singular to the plural 
 number where substitutable without impropriety ; and by one 
 means or other it may generally be so substituted. 
 
 Rule UL Unless for special reason, by whatsoever name an 
 object has once been designated, by that same name and no other, 
 continue to designate it ; or if, on any account, you find it matter 
 of necessity or convenience to employ for that purpose this or 
 that other name, take care to give notice of the change. 
 
 Eadem nalura, eadem nomenctalura. 
 Whea'er the same nature. 
 The same nomenclatare. 
 
 Converse of the above Rule. — Whatsoever be the object, for 
 
 ( 18* 
 
210 RULES FOR CLEARNESS IN STYLE. 
 
 the designation of which a given word has been employed, employ 
 not that same word for the designation of any other object ; un- 
 less so it be, that the word being a generic one, on the first occa- 
 sion it was employed for the designation of the whole genus or of 
 one speices ; on the other occasion, for the designation of another 
 species of the same genus. 
 
 Rule IV. Prefer verbal substantives to verbs. 
 
 Numerous are the instances in which, for the giving expression 
 to the import in question, a single word in the form of a verb, 
 may in some sort suffice, and is frequently made to suffice ; and 
 a verbal noun from the same root, with the addition of some verb 
 of extensive sign, and proportionally frequent use may also serve; 
 as when, instead of /o apply, the phrase tomake application is used. 
 From this substitution convenience is frequently found to result. 
 
 The noun from the same root is commonly a verbal noun : a 
 verbal noun of that sort, which serves to designate, in the first 
 place, the species of action, for the designation of which, the verb, 
 including all the several adjuncts and modifications* belonging 
 to that complex part of speech is used ; and thence, by an almost 
 imperceptible transition, the state of tilings produced by that same 
 act. 
 
 This verba] noun, when thus obtained in a state of sepq,ration 
 from these adjuncts, which form so many parts in the composi- 
 tion of the very complex part of speech called a verb, and which 
 in this its separate state, becomes the name of a sort of fictitious 
 entity, of a sort of fictitious body or substance, is, in this state, 
 rendered more prel^ensible. Being thus prehensible, it is more 
 easily, and thence directly, brought to view : and being thus 
 brought to view, it is capable of being employed as a common sub- 
 ject to any number whatsoever of propositions that may be re- 
 quisite for predicating, whatsoever the nature of the case requires 
 to be predicated, of the sort of act in question, or of its result. 
 
 By means of a few verbs of extensive import, such as the above 
 word make, capable of serving, as it were, in any auxiliary cha- 
 racter, introduction may, in most cases, be given by each of them 
 to a large number of names of fictitious entities, and the advan- 
 tage in question compassed to the utmost extent, of which it is 
 susceptible. 
 
 When a characteristic verb, thus capable of being resolved into 
 a correspondently characteristic verbal noun-substantive and an 
 
 * Viz. the adjuncts designative of the time of an action, the number of 
 the person or persons concerned in it, and the point of view in wh-ich in 
 respect of certainty, the act in question was contemplated. 
 
RULES FOR CLEARNESS IN STYLE. 211 
 
 uncharacteristic auxiliary verb, has been employed, a practice 
 not unfrequent is, to follow it by some relative which has for its 
 antecedent the verbal noun, the import of which is implied 
 in that of the characteristic verb ; subjoining, or not subjoining, 
 to it the antecedent noun thus implied. 
 
 Example 1. The implied antecedent brought to view as if re- 
 peated. 
 
 If you would gain the populace, upon every favourable occa- 
 sion apply yourself to their senses ; this application will do more 
 for you than the closest train of reasoning. 
 
 2. The implied antecedent not brought to view, but only 
 tacitly and implicitly referred to. 
 
 If you would gain the populace, apply yourself upon every 
 favourable occasion to their senses ; this will do more for you 
 than the closest train of reasoning. 
 
 If the verbaJ noun, the name of the fictitious entity,* have, in 
 a preceding sentence, been expressly brought to view, the repe- 
 tition of it in the succeeding sentence, will have the good effect 
 of reviving and strengthening the first impression. On the other 
 hand, insert the verbal noun in the succeeding sentence, with- 
 out having inserted it in the first, the consequence is that, in this 
 way of speaking, a sort of false intimation is conveyed, — an in- 
 timation that the verbal noun employed in the succeeding sen- 
 tence had already been employed in the- preceding one. 
 
 Leave the verbal noun altogether uninserted, the result is still 
 more awkward. " This will do so and so;" what is it that will 
 do so and so 1 To this question no answer being given by the 
 writer, the reader is left to hunt for one. 
 
 Rule V. When, for the designation of the idea in question, no 
 other appellative is in use but one which is tainted with ambi- 
 guity, presenting, in conjunction with the idea required, another 
 which is diflTerent from it, and which, on pain of being led into 
 error by it, must be distinguished from it, or say, seen to be dif- 
 ferent from it, — substitute another word which is free from all 
 ambiguity, presenting to view no idea other than that which is 
 wished and endeavoured to be presented by it. 
 
 Example gathered from the field of penal law. — To acts con- 
 sidered as having been taken for the subjects of prohibition, is 
 universally applied the appellation of offence. But when in 
 regard to these acts, the desire is, to present to view the 
 
 * For account of the division of entities into real and fictitiousi, see last 
 section of the Analysis at the end of this volume. 
 
212 AMBIGUITY OP THE PREPOSITION "OR." 
 
 quality, or say, property, on account of which they have been 
 constituted, or it is in contemplation to constitute them, offences ; 
 for conveying this idea, no other word is in use than this same 
 word offence. By law the act is made an offence, — and why? 
 Answer : Because in its own nature it is an offence. Generally- 
 speaking, the idea, which in this case is associated with the word 
 offence, is that o{ maleficence, that is to say, the property which 
 the act, to which this appellative is attached, has, or is supposed 
 to have, of making a defalcation more or less considerable, from 
 the aggregate happiness of the community. In so far as the 
 greatest-happiness principle is the ruling principle, on no other 
 ground can any species of act be taken in hand by the legisla- 
 tor, and, by prohibition and eventually punishment, consitituted 
 an offence. 
 
 This ambiguity it has seemed to me matter of high importance 
 to remove. Accordingly, continuing to employ the term offence, 
 for designating the fact of the act having been taken for the sub- 
 ject of prohibition, — for the purpose of bringing to view the qua- 
 lity, in consideration of which it was my desire to see it thus 
 dealt with, I employed the word maleficence; giving to the act 
 In which this quality was beholden by me, the appellation of a 
 maleficent act. 
 
 Once having become sensible of the need there was of a word 
 for this purpose, and having accordingly formed the determina- 
 tion of being on the look-out for such a one, I soon found that 
 I had not far to look: beneficent, beneficence, were words already 
 not only in the language but in every mouth ; in the language 
 (the Latin) from which they were derived, correspondent and 
 opposite to them I saw the words maleficent and maleficence. 
 
 Thenceforward, instead of not knowing what to say, unless 
 it were in a roundabout way, or saying, this act is an offence, and 
 therefore ought to be made an offence, it has been my custom to 
 say the sort of act thus described is a maleficent act, and that in 
 such sort and to such an amount, that by apt prohibition, backed 
 by apt eventual suffering, it ought to be constituted an offence. 
 — viii. 313-316. 
 
 AMBIGUITY OF THE PREPOSITION "OR." 
 
 Inserted between two words, — noun-substantives suppose, — it 
 is employed with equal frequency, and without any the least dis- 
 crimination, for two purposes altogether different : and is thus 
 continually liable to give rise, either to interminable uncertainty. 
 
AMBIGniTY OF THE PREPOSITION " OB." 213 
 
 or to any of the most delusive and most mischievous miscon- 
 ceptions. The one is — that of giving to understand that what 
 is meant to be said of the thing signified by the one, is not meant 
 to be said of the thing signified by the other : the other, that they 
 are but two words for one and the same thing : not to speak of 
 a third case, in which the option is meant to be given between 
 two things, for tlie designation of which the two words are em- 
 ployed. In other words, it is employed in either of the two so 
 widely different senses, distinguished by the grammarians of clas- 
 sical antiquity, and, after them, by Harris, in his Hermes, by the 
 two adjuncts, disjunctive, and suh-diajimctive : disjunctive, 
 svhen the two words are meant to be exhibited in the character 
 of names of two different things ; sub-disjuncllve, when they are 
 V meant to be represented as different names of the one and the 
 same thing. 
 
 A more frequently occurring, or a more frequently pernicious 
 imperfection will not easily be found in any language. 
 
 From this great blemish, the Greek language, as observed by 
 •Harris, is altogether free : it has one word for the disjunctive 
 sense, and another for the sub-disjunclive. 
 
 Even the French language either is already exempt from this 
 imperfection, or at any rate, with comparatively little difficulty, 
 might be rendered free from it. Ou, or oit bien, it is believed, 
 is the diction, or at any rate a diction employed, where the pur- 
 pose is to present to view the disjunctive sense : employed it as- 
 suredly is in this sense, and, it is believed, seldom if ever em- 
 ployed in the other: while, when put between two substantives, 
 soit, is indubitably employed in the sub disjunctive sense, and 
 seldom, if ever, it is believed, in the disjunctive. 
 
 In English, if o;-, being confined to the disjunctive, or say, were 
 the diction employed, and that exclusively, where the sense meant 
 to be presented is the svb-diijunctive, — a blemish, so incom- 
 patible with certainty and clearness of conception, might thus 
 be removed. But supposing the improvement were ever so de- 
 sirable, how the introduction of it could be effected seems not 
 very easy to conceive. The Inconvenience of departure from 
 habit is an inconvenience, which, in such a case, would be felt 
 by every body : by every body, as well In the capacity of speaker 
 or writer, as in that of hearer or reader. 
 
 The uneasiness produced by a violation of the law of custom 
 in matters of discourse, is an inconvenience to which every body, 
 vdthout exception, is more or less sensible : want of precision — 
 want of certainty — is an inconvenience to which, though in many 
 cases so much more serious than the other is in any case, few 
 indeed are sensible. 
 
214 EFFECTS OF INACCURACY OF EXPRESSION. 
 
 For this same purpose — viz. designation of the sub-disjunctive 
 sense, the Latin word alias — a word already applied to this same 
 purpose — would serve full as well, were it not for the displeasing 
 idea attached to it by the use made of it on the occasions on 
 which it is employed, in speaking of this or that man of bad 
 character, who, to elude justice^ has, at different times, assumed 
 different names. For conveying to the eye the import in ques- 
 tion, the well known letters, ?'. e. might in some measure be made 
 to serve : but id eat, of which they exhibit the abbreviation, is 
 crude Latin : and the correspondent English phrase would be 
 felt to be insufferably long. — iii. 84-85. 
 
 FAMILIAR TERMS MISUNDERSTOOD. 
 
 What we are continually talking of, merely from our having 
 been continually talking of it, we imagine we understand ; so 
 close a union has habit connected between words and things, that 
 we take one for the other ; when we have words in our ears we 
 imagine we have ideas in our minds. When an unusual word 
 presents itself, we challenge it ; we examine it ourselves to see 
 whether we have a clear idea to annex to it ; but when a word 
 that we are familiar with comes across us, we let it pass under 
 favour of old acquaintance. 
 
 The long acquaintance we have had with it makes us take for 
 granted we have searched it already ; we deal by it, in conse- 
 quence, as the custom-house officers in certain countries, who, 
 having once set their seal upon a packet, so long as they see, or 
 think they see that seal upon it, reasonably enough suppose 
 themselves dispensed with from visiting it anew. — x. 75. 
 
 EFFECTS OF INACCURACY OF EXPRESSION. 
 
 In the history of French jurisprudence, a case, it is said, may 
 be found, in which inaccuracy of expression cost a man his life. 
 A witness having been examined in the presence of the defendant, 
 and having been asked whether he was the person by whom the 
 act was done, which he had seen done, answered in the negative. 
 " Blessed be God !" exclaims the defendant — " here is a man — 
 qui ne m'a pas reconnu — who has not recognised me." What he 
 should have said — what he would have said, ha:d he given a just 
 expression to what he meant, was — " I|ere is a man qui a reconnu 
 
IRREGULAR NOUNS AND VERB3. 215 
 
 que ce n'etoit pas mot — who has recognised, declared, that it 
 was not I." — See Voltaire, " Essai sur les Probabilites en fait 
 de Justice, Politique," &c., torn. ii. 
 
 Entire provinces, and even nations, have been taxed by a 
 common opinion with a sort of endemial inaccuracy of expres- 
 sion. Nations the most distinguished for talent and genius, 
 may be referred to as examples: and, in the case of these nations, 
 inaccuracy of testimony has been in an equal degree the sub- 
 ject of remark. Of this inaccuracy, supposing it to be real, the 
 state of the moral faculties appears commonly to have been 
 looked to as the principal^ if not the only, cause: but in the pro- 
 duction of the effect, there seems little reason to doubt but that 
 the state of the intellectual faculties may have possessed a con- 
 siderable share. — vi. 253. 
 
 IRREGULAR NOUNS AND VERBS. 
 
 At an early period in the history of language, a word or sound 
 of one sort was employed as a basis for one of the relations 
 which are expressed by inflection, a word of another sort for 
 another. 
 
 Fragments of the mass of language in the shape which it 
 wore while in that imperfect state, are still to be seen, and that, 
 it is believed, in every at present cultivated language. 
 
 These fragments may be seen in the composition of all those 
 nouns and verbs which are regarded as being in any re.'spect 
 irregular, and which, on that account, are exhibited by gram- 
 marians in the character of irregular nouns and verbs. 
 
 By any person who will be at the trouble of reviewing them, 
 these irregular parts of speech will, in every language, be found 
 among those, for the import of which the demand is most fre- 
 quent in its occurrence, and which, consequently, are in most 
 general use. In the track of time the stage at which they first 
 came into use, was that at which the number of words in use 
 was not as yet sufficiently great for the labour attached to it, to 
 have drawn men into the expedient of cultivating it by employ- 
 ing the principle and scheme of connexion for a multitude of 
 mutually-related words, and thus substracting from the inconve- 
 nient multitude of different forms, with the import of which 
 they would otherwise have had to make themselves acquainted. 
 Such was the state of society, — such the state of the demand 
 for discourse at the time when they first came into use. The 
 demand never having diminished, thus it is that the actual use 
 of them remains undimipished. < 
 
216 PROLIXITY AND REDUNDANCY. 
 
 Thus it is that, of the history of language, no inconsiderable 
 part remains to this day written upon the face of it. — viii. 327. 
 
 DRAWING ACTS OF PARLIAMENT. 
 
 On the one hand, clerks being paid for copying, according to 
 the multitude of statutes and the length of each, and the confu- 
 sion thus organized in each producing a perpetually increasing 
 demand for more — lawyers, on the other hand, being, some of 
 them, paid in like proportion for the drawing of statutes, and 
 all of them having every thing to gain by the confusion that 
 pervades the substance of the several statutes, and the universal 
 and perpetually-increasing uncertainty in which that confusion 
 beholds its fruit — hence this rule, by which it is provided, that 
 an act of parliament, let it of itself constitute ever so conside- 
 rable a volume, shall, like the mathematician's point, be a thing 
 without parts, is a rule as sacred among these several learned 
 and official persons, as any article in the 39 ever was to the 
 most orthodox of the right reverend prelates that grace and sanc- 
 tify the Upper House: and whoso should propose to abrogate 
 it, would thereby become a worse than a popish or other ipso 
 facto excommunicated convict — a malefactor ipso facto con- 
 victed of jacobinism, — v. 150. 
 
 PROLIXITY AND REDUNDANCY. 
 
 Prolixity may be where redundancy is not. Prolixity may 
 arise not only from the multifarious insertion of unnecessary 
 articles, but from the conservation of too many necessary ones 
 in a sentence; as a workman may be overladen not only with 
 rubbish, which is of no use for him to carry, but with materials 
 the most useful and necessary, when heaped up in loads too 
 heavy for him at once. The point is therefore to distribute the 
 materials of the several divisions of the fabric into parcels that 
 may be portable without fatigue. 
 
 There is a limit to the lifting powers of each man, beyond 
 which all attempts only charge him with a burden to him im- 
 moveable. 
 
 There is in like manner a limit to the grasping power of 
 man's apprehension, beyond which if you add article to article, 
 the whole shrinks from under his utmost efforts. In no science 
 is this limit more necessary to be consulted [than in law,] in 
 none has it been so utterly unattended to.— x. 74. 
 
VALUE OF ORIGINALITY. 217 
 
 CONDUCT OP THE UNDERSTANDING IN COMPOSING. 
 
 Having found some word, however improper to fix the idea, 
 (upon the paper,) you may then turn it about and play round it 
 at your leisure. Like a block of wood, which, when you have 
 fixed in a vice, you may plane and polish at your leisure ; but if 
 you think to keep It in your hands all the time, it may slip 
 through your fingers. — x. 73. 
 
 VALUE OF ORIGINALITY. 
 
 There are two classes of writers to whom the public is very 
 little obliged : those who pretend to say something, and in effect 
 -say nothing ; and those who say something, but say not what 
 they think. 
 
 He who thinks, and thinks for himself,. will always have a 
 claim to thanks ; it is no matter whether it be right or wrong, so 
 as it be explicit. If it is right, it will serve as a guide to direct ; 
 if wrong, as a beacon to warn. 
 
 The needle directs as well to the South Pole, from whence it 
 flies, as to the North which it pursues. 
 
 The paradoxes of Hobbes and Mandeville (gt which divines 
 affect to be so much scandalized) were of service: they contained 
 many original and bold truths, mixed with an alloy of falsehood, 
 which succeeding writers, profiting by that share of light which 
 these had cast upon the subject, have been enabled to separate. 
 —X. 73. 
 
 THE PRESUMPTION OF THOSE WHO CANNOT 
 THINK FOR THEMSELVES. 
 
 He who, in place of reasoning deduced (if the subject be of a 
 practical nature) from the consideration of the end in view, em- 
 ploys authority, makes no secret of the opinion he entertains of 
 his hearers or his readers : he assumes that those to whom he 
 addresses himself are incapable, each of them, of forming a judg- 
 ment of their own. If they submit to this insult, may it not be 
 presumed that they acknowledge the justice of it ? 
 
 Of imbecility — at any rate of self-conscious and self avowed 
 19 
 
218 NATURAL HISTORY. 
 
 imbecility— proportionable humility ought naturally to be the 
 result ; 
 
 On the contrary, so far from humility, — of this species of idol- 
 atry— of this worshipping of dead men's bones,— all the passions 
 the most opposite to humility — pride, anger, obstinacy, and 
 overbearingness, — are the frequent, not to say the constant, ac- 
 companiments. 
 
 With the utmost strength of mind that can be displayed in the 
 field of reasoning, no reasonable man ever manifests so much 
 heat, assumes so much, or exhibits himself disposed to bear so 
 little as these men, whose title to regard and notice is thus given 
 up by themselves. 
 
 Whence this inconsistency ? — whence this violence T From this 
 alone, that having some abuse to defend — some abuse in which 
 they have an interest and a profit — and finding it on the ground 
 of present public interest indefensible, they fly for refuge to the 
 only sort of argument in which so much as the pretension 6f be- 
 ing sincere in error can find countenance. — ii. 392. 
 
 THE TERMS "NATURAL HISTORY" AND " NATURAL 
 PHILOSOPHY." 
 
 Of the two words, — the first an adjective, the other a substan- 
 tive, — of which the compound appellation Natural History is 
 formed, it found, at the time of its formation, the substantive 
 History already appropriated to the designation of a branch of 
 learning, having for its subject those states of persons and 
 things of all sorts, and those events of all sorts, that have been 
 known or supposed to have had place in times past : present 
 time either being altogether excluded, or its history being but as 
 it were a point, in comparison with the time of history which it 
 closes. Adding the word natural, say Natural History, the re- 
 sult is, that, for the import, designated by this appellative, ante- 
 cedently to the establishment of that usage from which it has 
 received an import so widely different, we have this, viz. the 
 natural account of those states of persons and things, and so 
 forth, and of those events, and so forth, which had place in times 
 past. 
 
 Now, with what propriety, to any one of the above-mentioned 
 so aptly denominated divisions of the branch of art and science 
 itself thus unaptly denominated, — with what propriety to Mine- 
 ralogy, to Botany, to Zoology, — can the term Natural History, 
 consideration had of its original and proper import as thus deve- 
 loped, be applied. 
 
ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT. 219 
 
 The branch of art and science, for the designation of which 
 the corapound appellation Natural Philosophy is in use, is that 
 which has, for its subject, mailer in general, considered in re- 
 spect of such modifications as it has been made, or may be ex- 
 pected to be made, to undergo, by human art, under the guidance 
 of human science: with the addition, perhaps, of such proper- 
 ties, as, by means of changes made in it by the application of 
 that same mental instrument, have been discovered to have been 
 already belonging to it. 
 
 Taken by itself, Philosophy is the love of wisdom. Adding 
 the word natural, say Natural Philosophy, and, for the import 
 designated by this appellation, antecedently to the arbitrary 
 usage, established in this case as in that other, — we have this, 
 viz. the natural love of wisdom. — vii. 69. 
 
 THE MENTAL HISTORY OF ANALYSIS AND 
 ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 Walking one day over his grounds, a certain husbandman 
 observed a plant, which was not of the number of those which 
 he was employed in cultivating. Overhanging some of them, 
 it seemed to him to impede their growth. Taking out his knife, 
 he cut the plant off just above the root; and a fire, in which he 
 was burning weeds for the ashes, being near at hand, he threw 
 it into the fire. In so doing, he had thus in two different modes 
 performed, upon this physical whole, the physical analysis. 
 By being cut as it was, it became divided into two parts, viz. 
 the root, and that which was above the root: and thus in the 
 mechanical mode was the physical analysis performed upon it. 
 By its being thrown into the fire and there consumed, of the 
 portion so cut off as above, part was made to fly off in the state 
 of g-as, the rest staid behind in the state of ashes: and thus in 
 the chemical mode was the physical analysis performed upon it. 
 
 Not long after, came a daughter of his that same way, and a 
 plant of the same kind which her father had thus cut down be- 
 ing left standing, her attention was caught by the beauty of it 
 It was a sweet-brier rose, of which one flower had just ex- 
 panded itself. All parts of the plant were not alike beautiful. 
 By one part her attention was more forcibly engaged than by 
 the rest. It was the flower. To examine it more closely, she 
 plucked it oflT, and brought it near her eye. During its ap- 
 
220 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 proach, the scent of it became perceptible; and thus another 
 sense received its gratification. To prolong it, she tried to stick 
 the flower in a part of her dress that covered her bosom. Meet- 
 ing with some resistance, the stalk to which, with a few leaves 
 on it, the flower was attached, was somewhat bruised: and now 
 she perceived and distinguished another odour, which though not 
 less agreeable, was somewhat different from the first. 
 
 All this while she had been performing upon this physical 
 whole the logical operation termed logical analysis: performing 
 it not the less, though, as in Moliereh Bourgeois Gentilhomme 
 Monsieur Jourdan when talking prose, without knowing it. 
 The instrument, by virhich this mental operalion was performed 
 by her, was the fictitious entity attention. By the attention 
 which she bestowed upon the flower, while no equal degree of 
 attention was bestowed upon any other part of the plant, she 
 analyzed it — she mentally resolved or divided it — into two parts, 
 viz. the flower, and all that was not the flower: and thus she 
 distinguished part from part. 
 
 Again. By applying her attention, first to the beauty of the 
 flower, composed as it was of the beauty of its form and the 
 beauty of its colour, she performed on this same original sub- 
 ject another analysis, which though still a logical analysis, was 
 productive of results somewhat different from those produced 
 by the former; for thus, in the same part she distinguished two 
 properties or qualities; viz, that of presenting to the sense of 
 sight a peculiarly agreeable appearance, and that of presenting 
 to the sense of smell a peculiar agreeable odour. The parts 
 were both of them «aZ entities: the qualities were, both of them, 
 fictitious entities. 
 
 Eager to communicate the discovery to a little brother ctf hers, 
 she took him to the spot: she showed him the plant from which 
 the flower had been plucked. The flower had already become 
 a subject of conversation to them: that part had already received 
 the name oi flower: not having equally engaged her attention, 
 the other part like a sheep in a flock, or a pig in a litter, re- 
 mained without any distinctive name. 
 
 Ere long her sweet-brier rose put forth two other blossoms; 
 being so little diff'erent from the flrst, each of these became 
 flower likewise. From a proper name, flower thus became a 
 common name. 
 
 In the course of another social ramble, a mallow plant, with a 
 flower on it, met her eye. At a distance the flower was not yet 
 distinguished from that of the sweet-brier rose — " .5/j," (cried 
 she,) " here is flower again." The sweet-brier, on account of its 
 
ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT. 221 
 
 scent, which continued after the flower was gone, had. been pre- 
 served : the mallow, having nothing but colour to recommend it, 
 was neglected. 
 
 These rambles had not continued long, before other sweet-briers 
 and other mallows met her eye. The former being regarded 
 with interest, the other with comparative indifference, the occa- 
 sion for distinguishing them in conversation was not unfrequently 
 recurring. The rose Jlower, became a rose flower, the mallow 
 flower a mallow flower. » 
 
 When the flower first observed was named j^ower, as yet no- 
 thing but analysis — logical analysis — had been performed ; no 
 operation of the nature of logical syniAms: of one individual ob- 
 ject it was and no other, that the word flower had been made the 
 name. But, no sooner was the second flower observed, and the 
 same name flower, which had been applied to the first, applied to 
 this other, than an act of logical synthesis was performed. The 
 proper name was thus turned into a common one ; and the ficti- 
 tious entity, called a sort, a kind, a species, or a genvs, (call it 
 which you please,) was created.* 
 '^h&fl.ctitious entity being nothing at all, and the two real entities 
 being each of them something, the fictitious entity itself did not 
 contain within itself the two real entities, or either of them. But 
 the name, which, after having occasionally been applied to each 
 of the two real entities, became, by degrees, designative of the 
 fictitious entity deduced from them, as above, by abstraction, con- 
 tinued to be employed for the designation of either of them, and 
 occasionally for the designation of both of them together : and 
 thus, in a sense, which, although not strictly proper, has the ad- 
 vantage of conciseness, the one fictitious entity, the species, may 
 be said to have contained, and to contain, the two individual real 
 ones: to contain, viz. though not in a. physical, in a. logical sense. 
 
 The analysis thus unconsciously performed by the maiden on 
 the first-observed sweet-brier rose, viz. by applying her attention 
 to one part, while it was not applied to the other, had for its sub- 
 ject the real entity, the physical whole. It may be termed the 
 prinuEval or primordial analysis : for by no other sort of logical 
 analysis will it be found capable of having been preceded. The 
 
 * Genus and species are words which cannot, either of Ihera.be em- 
 ployed without impliedly asserting the existence of the other. Both are 
 aggregates, or names of aggregates : genus is the whole, of which species 
 is a part. Suppose but one aggregate, either of these names may as well 
 be applied to it as the other; or rather, and for the above reason, neither 
 can with propriety be applied to it, 
 
 19* 
 
222 ORDER AND METHOD. 
 
 analysis, by which the rose-flower became rose-Jiower, and the 
 mallow-flower mallow flower, had for its subject no other than the 
 fidilious entity, the logical whole, viz. the whole designated, fixed, 
 and, as it were, created, by the denomination _/ZjMie)-, so soon as, 
 after having been employed merely as a proper name, it had come 
 to be employed as a common, and thence as a specific or generic 
 name. It may be termed the secondary analysis, or analysis nf 
 the 2d order. In her young mind, and in this its simple form, 
 this secondary mode of analysis had nothing in it of science, no- 
 thing of system. But in it may be seen the germ of all those 
 systems of division which, being framed by scientific hands, have 
 spread so much useful light over every portion of the field of art 
 and science. 
 
 The maiden had for her sweetheart a young man, who, though 
 not a member of the Company of Apothecaries, (for the company 
 had not yet received its charter,) had, on his part, been engaged 
 in a little train of observations, to an improved and extended series 
 of which, together with the experiments which they suggested, 
 some thousands of years afterwards that most useful and respect- 
 able community became indebted for its establishment. 
 
 He had observed his dog, after a full meal, betake itself to a 
 grass-plat, and gnaw the grass: a sort of article which, when 
 hungry, it had never been seen to meddle with. To this saga- 
 cious swain the maiden was not backward in reporting her above- 
 mentioned discoveries. It might, perhaps, have been not alto- 
 gether impossible to obtain a communication of some of those ob- 
 servations and discoveries of his, for the purpose of adding them 
 to hers. But, for the explanation of what has here been endea- 
 voured to be explained, what has already been reported of. the 
 damsel's will, it_^is hoped, be found to suffice, without any further 
 trial of the reader's patience. — viii. 122-124. 
 
 ORDER AND METHOD. 
 
 Order — method — is among the instruments which intellectual 
 vigour has to construct for the assistance of intellectual weakness, 
 and which, when made, intellectual weakness assists itself by, in 
 its endeavours to surmount the difficulties it has to contend with. 
 But as, on one hand', the labour and difficulty of producing order, 
 so, on the other hand, the demand for it increases with the mag- 
 nitude of the mass— with the multitude of the elementary par- 
 ticles which compose it. Order — meaning good order — order the 
 
BEGGING THE QUESTION. 223 
 
 best adapted to the purpose — consists in the selecting, out of the 
 whole number of changes capable of being rung upon the number 
 of elementary parts in question, that one of the whole number 
 that will place the aggregate mass in the most intelligible point 
 of view. The number of changes capable of being rung upon an 
 assemblage of elementary parts, increases with the number of 
 those parts : — increases with that rapidity of increase which is so 
 familiarly and precisely known to mathematicians, and which is ■ 
 matter of so much astonishment to persons altogether unconver- 
 sant with the first rudiments of that science. But, with the num- 
 ber of changes capable of being rung upon the elementary parts 
 of the mass in question, increases the chance in favour of disorder 
 and confusion, — the difficulty of producing order, — the difiiculty 
 of detecting the want of it, — the difficulty of pointing out the 
 remedy for the want of it, for the purpose of insisting on the ap- 
 plication of the remedy, — the facility of producing that sort and 
 degree of disorder which shall weary out the energies of the in- 
 specting eye, and force it to withdraw from the subject altogether, 
 to save itself from the labour (perhaps the fruitless labour) of 
 persevering in the endeavour to discover what has and what has 
 not been said and done. — vi, 29. 
 
 BEGGING THE aUESTION. 
 
 In the minds of some men, (not to say the bulk of men,) if you 
 set about proving the truth of a proposition, you rather weaken 
 than strengthen their persuasion of it. Assume the truth of it, 
 and build upon it as if indisputable, you do more towards rivet- 
 ing them to it than you could do by direct assertion, supported 
 by any the clearest and the strongest proofs. By assuming it as 
 true, you hold up to their eyes the view of that universal assent, 
 or assent equivalent to universal, (dissenters being left out of the 
 account,) which, from your assumption, they take for granted 
 has been given to it: you represent all men, or (what comes to 
 the same thing) all men whose opinions are worth regarding, as 
 joining in the opinion : and by this means, besides the argument 
 you present to the intellectual part of their frame, you present to 
 its neighbour the volitional part another sort of argument, con- 
 stituted by the fear of incurring the indignation or contempt of 
 all reasonable men, by presuming to disbelieve or doubt what all 
 such reasonable men are assured of. — vii. 451. 
 
224 USES MADE OF THE WORD " CHURCH.' 
 
 INFLUENCE OF FALLACIOUS DESIGNATIONS. 
 
 Amongst the instruments of delusion employed for reconciling 
 the people to the dominion of the one and the few, is the device 
 of employing for the designation of persons, and classes of per- 
 sons — instead of the ordinary and appropriate denominations, the 
 names of so many abstract fictitious entities, contrived for the 
 purpose. Take the following examples : 
 
 Instead of Kings, or the King, — the Crown and the Tlirone. 
 
 Instead of Churchman,— the Church, and sometimes the Altar. 
 
 Instead of Lawyers,— the Law. 
 
 Instead of Judges, or a Judge, — the Court. 
 
 Instead of Rich men, or the Rich. — Properly. 
 
 Of this device, the object and effect is, that any unpleasant 
 idea that in the mind of the hearer or reader might happen to 
 stand associated with the idea of the person or the class, is dis- 
 engaged from it : and in the stead of the more or less obnoxious 
 individual or individuals, the object presented is a creature of the 
 fancy, by the idea of which, as in poetry, the imagination is 
 tickled — a phantom which, by means of the power with which 
 the individual or class is clothed, is constituted an object of re- 
 spect and veneration. 
 
 In the first four cases just mentioned, the nature of the device 
 is comparatively obvious. 
 
 In the last case, it seems scarcely to have been observed. But 
 perceived, or not perceived, such, by the speakers in question, 
 has been the motive and efficient cause of the prodigious impor- 
 tance attached by so many to the term properly: as if the value 
 of it were intrinsic, and nothing else had any value: as if man 
 were made for property, not property for man. Many, indeed, 
 have gravely asserted, that the maintenance of property was the 
 only end of government. — ix. 76-77. 
 
 USES MADE OP THE WORD "CHURCH." 
 
 1. Among the Greeks, in its original acceptation, Ecdesia was 
 employed to signify an assembly of any kind ; it was manifestly 
 from the union of two words ex and xccXea, which signified to call 
 out, viz. for the purpose of a joint meeting, and more particularly 
 of a joint meeting for a public, for a political purpose. 
 
USES MADE OP THE WORD "CHURCH." 225 
 
 2. Thence, among such of the first Christians whose language 
 was Greek, it came to signify, in particular, such assemblies as 
 were held by these religionists, as such, whether for the purpose 
 of devotion or conjunct economical management, 
 
 3. In an association of this kind there was commonly at least, 
 one member, whose occupation consisted in taking the lead in 
 their common exercises of divine worship, and by the exposition 
 of that book, or collection of books, which, by all of them, was 
 recognised as constituting the standard of their faith and action, 
 to administer instruction to the rest. The operations thus per- 
 formed being considered as serviceable, with reference to the 
 persons at whose desire they were performed, the persons by 
 whom they were performed were, accordingly, sometimes desig- 
 nated, in consideration of such their services, minisUrs, the Latin 
 word for servants; sometimes, in consideration of their age, 
 Presbyters, from Tr^eo-fivTegai, which was the Greek word for 
 Elders, i. e. for men of any description when advanced in age 
 (from which word Presbyter, the French word Presire, and the 
 English word Priest;) sometimes, in consideration of their acting 
 as overseers or overlookers, overlooking and overseeing, in re- 
 lation to deportment, the behaviour of their disciples, the mem- 
 bers of the association at large, Ea-io-xoa-a/, Episcopi, whence the 
 English word Bishop. 
 
 In process of time, those members of the association, whose 
 occupation, originally with or without pay, consisted, on the 
 occasion in question, in acting as the servants of all, came to act 
 as rulers over the members at large, at first on this or that par- 
 ticular occasion, at length upon all occasions. 
 
 At this time, besides the other senses, of which mention will 
 require to be made presently, the word Church came to signify, 
 according to the purpose which, by those who were employing 
 it, it was designed to serve, three very different assemblages of 
 persons: viz. 1. The whole body of the persons thus governed; 
 2. The whole body of the persons thus employed in the govern- 
 ment of the rest ; and 3. The all-comprehensive body, or grand 
 total, composed of governed and governors taken together. 
 
 When the persons in question were to be spoken of in the cha- 
 racter of persons bound to pay obedience, then by the word 
 Church was meant to be designated these^subordinate subject - 
 members of the association, — in a word, the subject many. 
 When the persons in question were to be spoken of in the cha- 
 racter of persons to whom the others were bound to pay obe- 
 dience, then by the same word were designated the ruling few ; 
 when, for the purpose of securing in favour of toth parties, and 
 
226 USES MADE OF THE WORD " CHURCH." 
 
 especially of the ruling few, the affections of respect and fear, 
 then would the import of the word open itself, and to such an 
 extent, as to include, under one denomination, the two parties 
 whose situations and interests were thus opposite. 
 
 4. Prom designating, first, the act of calling together an as- 
 sembly, then the assembly composed of all persons, and no other 
 than all persons, actually assembled together at one and the same 
 time in a particular place, and then all the persons who were 
 regarded as entitled so to assemble at that place, it came also 
 to be employed to designate the place itself at or in which such 
 assembly was wont to be held : the place consisting of the soil, 
 the portion of the earth's surface, on which, for containing and 
 protecting the assembly from the occasional injuries of the wea- 
 ther, a building was erected, and such building itself when erected. 
 
 Such, as above, being the purpose for which the sort of build- 
 ing in question was erected, viz. the paying homage to God, God, 
 although present at all times in all places, was regarded as being, 
 in a more particular manner, present at and in all places of this 
 sort ; attentive to whatsoever was passing at all other places, but 
 still more attentive to whatsoever was passing in these places. 
 
 Being thus, as it were, the dwelling-places of God, these places 
 became to the members of the association objects of particular 
 awe and reverence, of a mixture of respect and terror, — they be- 
 came, in one word, holy ; whereupon, by an easy and insensible 
 transition, this mixture of respect and terror came to extend 
 itself to, upon, and to the benefit of the class of persons in whose 
 hands reposed the management of whatsoever was done in these 
 holy places : holy functions made holy places, holy places and 
 holy functions made holy persons. 
 
 On the score of beauty, admiration ; on the score of kindness 
 and tenderness, love ; on the score of fitness for domestic manage- 
 ment and rule, respect : these affections are in use to find their 
 joint object in the character or relation designated by the word 
 mother. Admiration, love, and respect, on the one part; all 
 these are, on the other part, so many instruments of governance. 
 The servants of the subject many had their assemblies for acting 
 in such their capacity, and securing to themselves the faculty of 
 continuing so to do. Of these assemblies, the members were, 
 some young, some middle-aged, some elderly men^ Upon con- 
 templating themselves altogether in the mirror of rhetoric, it was 
 found that of all these males put together was composed one 
 beautiful female, the worthy object of the associated affections of 
 admiration, love, and respect — the Holy Mother Church. 
 
DSE3 MADE OF THE WORD " CHURCH." 227 
 
 Besides this, this holy female was seen to possess a still 
 greater quantity of holiness than could have entered into the 
 composition of the aggregate mass of holiness composed of the 
 separate holinesses of the several holy males of which she was 
 composed, had they not, in the above-mentioned holy place been 
 thus assembled and met together. By ordinances issued by 
 this holy female, a greater and surer measure of admiration, re- 
 spect, and consequent obedience, was obtained than would have 
 been obtained by the assembly in its plain and original charac- 
 ter of an assembly of males, notwithstanding all their holiness. 
 By this combination thus happily accomplished, an effect no 
 less felicitous and convenient than it was holy, was produced; 
 in the holy compound, while all the perfections of which both 
 sexes are susceptible were found united, all imperfections, as if 
 by chemical precipitation, were found to have been excluded. 
 The holy men might, notwithstanding their holiness, have re- 
 mained fallible; the Holy Mother was found to be infallible. 
 Her title to implicit confidence, and its naturally inseparable 
 consequence implicit obedience, became at onf-e placed upon the 
 firmest ground, and raised to the highest pitch. 
 
 Great is the scandal, great to all well-disposed eyes the of- 
 fence, if to her own children, or any of them, a mother has been 
 an object of contempt: proportioned to the enormity of the of- 
 fence is the indignation of all well-disposed spectators, the mag- 
 nitude of the punishment which they are content to see inflicted 
 on the score of it, and the alacrity with which they are ready 
 to concur in promoting the infliction of such punishment. 
 
 How much more intense that indignation, should any such 
 indignity be offered to that holy character, should her servants, 
 or even her ordinances, be violated. Flowing, from the mater- 
 nity of this holy, this sanctified, this sacred character — to all 
 these epithets the sam,e venerated import belongs, they deserve 
 the same respect: how convenient and useful the result! 
 
 When an edifice of the holy class has been erected and duly 
 consecrated, proportioned to the holiness, the sanctity, the sa- 
 credness bestowed upon it in and by its conseciation, is the 
 enormity of any offence by which it has been profaned and its 
 sanctity violated. 
 
 When, again, an edifice of the holy class has been erected and 
 duly consecrated, the more sumptuous, the more magnificent, the 
 more lofty, the more admirable, the more venerable the structure, 
 the greater the calamity, the wider the ruin, the mare intense the 
 shock arising from its being subverted, the more intolerable the 
 
228 THE UNION OP 1 707 and the ENGLISH CHURCH. 
 
 apprehension of the danger of i(^ being subverted, the more in- 
 tense and implacable the indignation excited towards and pointed 
 against all persons regarded or considered as capable of being 
 the authors or promoters of so shocking a catastrophe. 
 
 Already has been seen the advantage derivable and derived 
 by and to the rulers of the Church, themselves being that Church, 
 by the creation of a Church capable of being violated. 
 
 Here may now be seen the advantage producible and produced 
 by and to the same rulers of the Church from the creation of a 
 Church, themselves being that Church, capable of being sub- 
 verted. 
 
 By any unholy person is this holy will in any particular op- 
 posed, or threatened to be opposed, — that same sacrilegious, un- 
 holy, profane, unbelieving infidel, miscreant, reprobate person is 
 already a violater, and, in intention, a subverter of the Church, 
 worthy of all indignation, all horror, all punishment, all ven- 
 geance which it is in the power of any dutiful and worthy son 
 of the Church to contribute to pour down upon his devoted 
 head. — viii. 249-251. 
 
 THE UNION OF 1707 AND THE ENGLISH CHURCH. 
 
 At the time of the intended union, the two states (not to em- 
 barrass the case by taking more than two at a time) are, with 
 relation each to the other, in a greater or a less degree foreign 
 and independent states. 
 
 Of the two uniting states, one will generally be more, the 
 other less, powerful. If the inequality be considerable, the 
 more powerful state, naturally speaking, will not consent to the 
 union, unless after the union, the share it possesses in the go- 
 vernment of- the new-framed compound .state be greater by a 
 difference bearing some proportion to the difference in prospe- 
 rity between the two states. 
 
 On the part of the less powerful state, precautions against op- 
 pression come of course. 
 
 Wherever a multitude of human beings are brought together, 
 there is but too much room for jealousy, suspicion, and mutual 
 ill-will. 
 
 In the apprehension of each, the others, if they obtain posses- 
 sion of the powers exercised by the common government, will 
 be supposed to apply them unjustly. In men or in money, in 
 labour or in goods, in a direct way or in some indirect oiie, it 
 may be the study of the new compound government, under the 
 
THE UNION OP 1707 AND THE ENGLISH CHURCH. 229 
 
 influence of that part of the quondam government which is pre- 
 dominant in it, to render the pressure of the contributions pro- 
 portionably more severe up6n the one portion of the new com- 
 pounded state than upon the other, or to force upon it new 
 customs, new religious ceremonies, new laws. 
 
 Let the hands of the new government remain altogether loose: 
 one of the two compound nations may be injured and oppressed 
 by the other. 
 
 Tie up the hands of the government in such degree as is requi- 
 site to give each nation a security against injustice at the hands 
 of the other: sooner or later comes the time in which the incon- 
 veniences resulting from the restriction will become intolerable 
 to one or other, or to both. 
 
 But sooner or later the very duration of the union produces 
 the natural remedy. 
 
 Sooner or later, having for such or such a length of time been 
 in the habit of acting in subjection to one government, the two 
 nations will have become melted into one, and mutual apprehen- 
 sions will have been dissipated by conjunct experience. 
 
 All this while, in one or bqth of the united states, the indivi- 
 duals will be but too numerous and too powerful, who by sinister 
 interest and interest-begotten prejudice will stand engaged to give 
 every possible countenance and intensity to those fears and jeal- 
 ousies — to oppose to the entire composure of them every degree 
 of retardation. 
 
 If in either of the united communities, at the time of the union, 
 there existed a set of men more or less numerous and powerful, 
 to whom abuse or imperfection in any shape was a source of 
 profit ; whatsoever restrictions may have been expressed in the 
 contract, these restrictions will of course be laid hold of by the 
 men thus circumstanced, and applied as far as possible to the 
 giving protection and continuance to a state of things agreeable 
 or beneficial to themselves. 
 
 At the time of the union between England and Scotland, the 
 Tory party, of whom a large proportion were Jacobites, and all 
 or most of them bigh-churchmen, had acquired an ascendant in 
 the House of Commons. 
 
 Here, then, a favourable occasion presented itself to these par- 
 tisans of Episcopacy, for giving perpetuity to the triumph they 
 had obtained over the English Presbyterians, by the Act of Uni- 
 formity proclaimed in the time of Charles the Second. 
 
 In treatise between unconnected nations, where an advantage 
 in substance is given to one, for the purpose of saving the honour 
 20 
 
230 
 
 REMOTE TIMES AND REMOTE PLACES. 
 
 of the other, it has been the custom to make the articles bear the 
 appearance of reciprocity upon the face of them ; as if, the facili- 
 tating the vent of French wines in England being the object of a 
 treaty, provision were made in it that wine of the growth of 
 either country might be imported into the other, duty free. 
 
 By the combined astulia of priestcraft and lawyercraft, advan- 
 tage was taken of this custom to rivet for ever those chains of 
 ecclesiastical tyranny which, in the precipitation that attended 
 the Restoration, had been fastened upon the people of England. 
 For securing the 45 Scotch members from being outnumbered 
 by the 513 English ones, provision had been made in favour of 
 the Church of Scotland : therefore, on the principle of reciprocity, 
 for securing the 513 English members from being outnumbered 
 by the 45 Scotch ones, like provision was made in favour of the 
 Church of England. — ii. 405. 
 
 THE WISDOM OF OUR ANCESTORS. 
 
 It is singular, that the persons who are most loUd in magnify- 
 ing the pretended advantage, in point of wisdom, of ancient over 
 modern times, are the very same who are the most loud in pro- 
 claiming the superiorly, in the same respect, of old men above 
 young ones. What has governed them in both cases seems to 
 have been the prejudice of names. It is certain, that if there be 
 some reasons why the old should have advantage over the young, 
 there are; at least, the same reasons for times that are called mo- 
 dern, having it over times that are called ancient. There are 
 more; for decrepitude, as applied to persons, is real: as applied 
 to times, it is imaginary. Men, as they acijuire experience, lose 
 the faculties that might enable them to turn it to account : it is 
 not so with times : the stock of wisdom acquired by ages, is a 
 stock transmitted through a Vast number' of generations, from 
 men in the perfection of their faculties, to others also in the per- 
 fection of their faculties : (he stock of knowledge transmitted 
 from one period of a man's life, to another period of the same 
 man's life, is a stock from which, after a certain period, large 
 defalcations are every minute making by the scythe of Time. — x. 
 69. 
 
 REMOTE TIMES, AND REMOTE PLACES. 
 Remote times wee virtually present to us in remote places. The 
 
FALSE LAUDATION OF THE DEAD. 231 
 
 different generations of mankind, at tlieir different stages of civil- 
 ization, are at once present to our eyes. We may view our ances- 
 tors in our antipodes. In Japan, sorcerers are still seen riding 
 in the clouds. In Negroland, witchcraft is even now the most 
 common of all crimes. Haifa century is scarce past since Hun- 
 gary has been cleared of vampires. — vii. 90. 
 
 FALSE LAUDATION OF THE DEAD. 
 
 De morttiis nit nini bonum; — With all its absurdity, the adage 
 is but too frequently received as a leading principle of morals. 
 Of two attacks, which is the more barbarous — on a man that 
 does feel it, or on a man that does not? On the man that does 
 feel it, says the principle of utility : on the man that does not, says 
 the principle of caprice and prejudice — the principle of sentimen- 
 talism — the principle in which imagination is the sole mover — 
 the principle in and by which, feelings are disregarded as not 
 worth notice. 
 
 The same man who bepraises you when dead, would have 
 plagued you without mercy when living. 
 
 The cause of this so extensively-prevalent, and extensively- 
 pernicious propensity lies not very deep. 
 
 A dead man has no rivals, — to nobody is he an object of envy: 
 in whosesoever way he may have stood when living, when 
 dead, he no longer stands in any body's way. If he was a man 
 of genius, those who denied him any merit during his life, — even 
 his every enemies, — changing their tone all at once, assume an 
 air of justice and kindness which costs them nothing, and enables 
 them, under pretence of respect for the dead, to gratify their ma- 
 lignity towards the living. 
 
 Another class of persons habitually exalt the past, for the ex- 
 press purpose of depressing and discouraging the present gene- 
 ration. 
 
 It is characteristic of the same sort of persons, as well as of 
 the same system of politics, to idolize, under the name of wis- 
 dom of our ancestors, the wisdom of untaught, Inexperienced 
 generations, and to undervalue and cover, with every expres- 
 sion of contempt that the language of pride can furnish, the sup- 
 posed ignorance and folly of the great body of the people.* 
 
 * A " Burdett mob," for example. 
 
232 "THEORETICAL," AS A TERM OF REPROACH. 
 
 So long as they keep to vague generalities, — so long js the 
 two objects of comparison are each of them taken in the lump — 
 wise ancestors in one lump, ignorant and foolish mob of modern 
 times in the other, — the weakness of the fallacy may escape de- 
 tection. Let them but assign for the period of superior wisdom 
 any determinate period whatsoever, not only will the ground- 
 lessness of the notion be apparent, (class being compared with 
 class in that period and the present one,) but, unless the antecedent 
 period be, comparatively speaking, a very modern one, so wide 
 will be the disparity, and to such an amount in favour of modern 
 times, that, in comparison with the lowest class of the people in 
 modern times, (always supposing them proficients in the art of 
 reading, and their proficiency employed in the reading of news- 
 papers,) the very highest and best informed class of these wise 
 ancestors will turn out to be grossly ignorant. — ii. 399-401. 
 
 "THEORETICAL," AS A TERM OF REPROACH. 
 
 Every man's knowledge is, in its extent, proportioned to the 
 extent as well as number of those general propositions, of the 
 truth of which, they being true, he has the persuasion in his own 
 mind : in other words, the extent of these his theories comprises 
 the extent pf his knowledge. 
 
 If, indeed, his theories are false, then, in proportion as they 
 are extensive, he is the more deeply steeped in ignorance and 
 error. 
 
 But from the mere circumstances of its being theoretical, by 
 these enemies to knowledge its falsehood is inferred as if it were 
 a necessary consequence, with as much reason as if, from a 
 man's speaking, it were inferred as a necessary consequence, 
 that what he speaks must be false. 
 
 One would think, that in thinking there were something wick- 
 ed or else unwise : every body feels, or fancies a necessity of 
 disclaiming it. " I am not given to speculation," — " I am no 
 friend to theories." Speculation — theory — what is it but think- 
 ing 1 Can a man disclaim speculation — can he disclaim theory, 
 without disclaiming thought! If they do not mean thought, they 
 mean nothing ; for, unless it be a little more thought than ordi- 
 nary, theory, speculation, mean nothing. 
 
 To escape from the imputation of meditating destruction to 
 mankind, a man must disclaim every thing that puts him above 
 the level of a beast. 
 
GOOD IN THEORV BAD IN PRACTICE. 233 
 
 A plan proposes a wrong end — or, the end being right, pro- 
 poses a wrong set of means. If this be what a man means, can 
 he not say so? Would not what he says have somewhat more 
 meaning — be a little more consistent with the principles of com- 
 mon sense, with common honesty, than saying of it that it is 
 theoretical — that it is speculative? — ii. 458-459. 
 
 THE WORD "SPECULATIVE." 
 
 An epithet in use among official persons, for the condemna- 
 tion of whatsoever proposition is too adverse to private interest 
 not to be hated, and at the same time too manifestly true to be 
 denied.-:-vi. 144. 
 
 GOOD IN THEORY— BAD IN PRACTICE. 
 
 That there have been plans in abundance which have been 
 found bad in practice, and many others, which would, if tried, 
 liave proved bad in practice, is altogether out of dispute. 
 
 That of each description there have been many which in 
 theory have appeared, and with reference to the judgment of 
 some of the persons by whom they have been considered, have 
 been found plausible, is likewise out of dispute. 
 
 What is here meant to be denied, is, that a plan, which is 
 essentially incapable of proving good in practice, can, with pro- 
 priety be said to be good in theory. 
 
 Whenever, out of a number of circumstances the concurrence 
 of all of which is necessary to the success of a plan, any one is, 
 in the calculation of the effects expected from it, omitted, any 
 such plan will, in proportion to the importance of the omitted 
 circumstance, be defective in practice; and if such be the degree 
 of importance, bad — upon the whole, a bad one; the disadvan- 
 tageous effects of the plan not finding a compensation in the 
 advantageous ones. 
 
 When the plan for the illumination of the streets by gas-lights 
 was laid before the public by the person who considered him- 
 self, or gave himself out for the inventor, one of the items in the 
 article of expense — one capital article, viz. that of the pipes, was 
 omitted. On the supposition that the pipes might all of them 
 have been had for nothing, and that in the plan so exhibited no 
 other such imperfections were to be found, the plan would, to 
 
 20* 
 
234 FALSE HEASONING DEBILITATES THE MIND. 
 
 the persons engaged in the undertaking, be not merely advan- 
 tageoas, but advantageous in the prodigious, degree therein re- 
 presented. If, on the contrary, the expense of this omitted 
 article were such as to more than countervail the alleged balance 
 on the side of profit, then vsrould the plan, with reference to the 
 undertakers, prove disadvantageous upon the whole, and in one 
 word, a bad one. - 
 
 But whatever it prove to be in practice, in theory, having so 
 important an omission in it, it cannot but be pronounced a bad 
 one; for every plan in which, in the account of advantages and 
 disadvantages — of profit and losses, any item is on the side of 
 disadvantage or loss omitted, is, in proportion to the magnitude 
 of such loss, a bad one, how advantageous soever upon trial the 
 result may prove upon the whole. 
 
 In the line of political economy, most plans that have been 
 adopted and employed by government for enriching the com- 
 munity by money given to individuals, have been bad in prac- 
 tice. 
 
 But if they have been bad in practice, it is because they have 
 been bad in theory. In the account taken of profit and loss, 
 some circumstance that has been necessary to render the plan 
 in question advantageous upon the whole, has been omitted. 
 
 This circumstance has been the advantage, which from the 
 money employed would have been reaped, either in the way of 
 addition to capital by other means, or in the way of comfort by 
 expenditure. 
 
 Of the matter of wealth, portions that by these operations 
 were but transferred from hand to hand, and commonly with a 
 loss by the way, v/ere erroneously considered as having been 
 created. — ii. 460. 
 
 FALSE EEASONING DEBILITATES THE MIND. 
 
 As in religion, so in jurisprudence, there is no absurdity so 
 gross as not to have found its zealous, and in a certain sense 
 even its disinterested, defenders: for, — howsoever the habit of 
 false reasoning may have had, at its origin, the influence of si- 
 nister interest for its efficient cause, — yet, when once in train, 
 it is driven on by the vis inerlise in the beaten track, till at 
 length it acquires an independent existence, having lost all re- 
 collection of the impure source that gave it birth. 
 
 Thus it is that, in all that train of reasoning which exercises 
 itself over the particular field in question — in all that quarter of 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF WORDS. 235 
 
 the psychological frame, a sort of local palsy establishes itself: 
 a habit of imbecility, a distempered relish for the convenient ab- 
 surdity, a nausea for inconvenient truth. 
 
 This partial sort of mental palsy is not incompatible with an 
 ordinary, nor even with an extraordinary, degree of strength in 
 the other part of the mental frame. The Herculean mind of 
 Johnson, driven to the confines of insanity by the vetres aviae 
 that had taken possession of his bosom in early youth, laboured 
 imder a palsy of this kind, and had lost the faculty of reasoning 
 on certain topics connected with religion, as may be seen in the 
 hints given by his biographers. 
 
 Alchymy, judicial astrology, judicature under technical pro- 
 cedure, — under these names may be seen so many systems of 
 profit-seeking imposture : alchymy, the art of cheating men on 
 pretence of making gold ; judicial astrology, the art of cheating 
 men on pretence of fortelling future events ; judicature (under 
 technical procedure,) the art of cheating men on pretence of ad- 
 ministering justice. 
 
 That among aJchymists and judicial astrologers there have been 
 those who have been dupes to the impostures by which they pro- 
 fited, cannot be doubted. That, among technical lawyers, pre- 
 judice, and the concealed workings of self-interest, have been 
 productive of the like illusion, is equally indubitable. Between 
 the company of dupes, and the fellowship of hypocrites, who shall 
 draw the line 1 No one under omniscience. And to what use 
 would it be drawn ? To none whatever. On the physical ground, 
 how often must the dupe and the impostor have been counted 
 in one person, — a dupe at the commencement of his career, an 
 impostor in the progress of it ! The same delusions by which ho 
 had been himself deceived, would, after the cloud was dissipated, 
 and when the jargon had become sufficiently familiar, serve him 
 for propagating the delusion to other minds. — vii. 210. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF WORDS. 
 
 When by a consideration of any kind, a man is determined to 
 maintain a proposition of any kind, and finds it not tenable on 
 the ground of reason and experience, — to conceal his distress, 
 he has recourse to some phrase, in and by which the truth of the 
 proposition is, somehow or other, assumed. 
 
 Thus, in the moral department of science : having a set of ob- 
 lio'ations which they were determined to impose upon mankind. 
 
S36 
 
 PKEE INQUIRY INTO EXISTING INSTITUTIONS, 
 
 or such part of it at any rate as they should succeed in engaging 
 by any means to submit to the yoke, — phrases, in no small 
 variety and abundance, have been invented by various persons, 
 for the purpose of giving force to their respective wills, and thus 
 performing for their accommodation the functions of a law : — 
 law of nations, moral sense, common sense, understanding, rule 
 of right, fitness of things, law of reason, right reason, natural 
 justice, natural equity, good order, truth, will of God, repugnancy 
 tp natijre. — vi. 240. 
 
 UNCONSCIOUS ADOPTION OF FALLACIES. 
 
 The more frequent the trumpeter of any fallacy is in its per- 
 formance, the greater the progress which his mind is apt to make 
 from the state of evil-consciousness to the state sincerity — from 
 the state of improbity to the state of imbecility ; that is, imbe- \ 
 cility with respect to the subject-matter. It is said of gamblers, W 
 that they begin their career as dupes, and end as theives : in the 
 present case, the parties begin with crSff, ah3" end with delusion. 
 
 A phenomenon, the existence of which seems to be out of dis- 
 pute, is that of a liar, by whom a lie of his own invpntion has so 
 often been told as true, that at length it has come to be ac- 
 cepted as such even by himself. 
 
 But if such is the case with regard to a statement composed of 
 words, every one of which finds itself in manifest contradiction 
 to some determinate truth, it may be imagined how much more 
 easily, and consequently how much rpore frequently, it may come 
 to be the case, in regard to a statement of such nicety and deli- 
 cacy, as that of the strength of the impression made by this or 
 that instrument of persuasion, of which the persuasive force is 
 susceptible of innumerable degrees, no one of which has ever yet 
 been distinguished from any other, by any externally sensible 
 signs or tokens, in the form of discourse or otherwise.— ii. 485. 
 
 FREE INaUIRY INTO EXISTING INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 If, on the one hand, a hasty and indiscriminating condemner 
 of what is established, may expose himself to contempt ; on the 
 other hand, a bigoted or corrupt defender of the works of power 
 becomes guilty, in a manner, of the abuses which hp supports : 
 the more so if, by oblique glances and sophistical glosses, he 
 
FREE maniRY into existing institutions. 237 
 
 studies to guard from reproach, or recommend to favour, what 
 he knows not how, and dares not attempt, to justify. To a man 
 who contents himself with simply stating an institution as he 
 thinlcs it is, no share, it is plain, can justly be attributed (nor 
 would any one think of attributing to him any share) of what- 
 ever reproach, any more than of whatever applause the institution 
 may be thought to merit. But if not content with this humbler 
 function, he takes upon him to give reasons in behalf of it, rea- 
 sons whether made or found by hilh, it is far otherwise. Every 
 false and sophistical reason that he contributes to circulate, he him- 
 self is chargeable with: nor ought he to be holden guiltless even 
 of such as, in a work were fact, not reason, is the question, he 
 delivers as from other writers without censure. By officiously 
 adopting them, he makes them his own, though delivered under 
 the names of the respective authors : not much less than if deli- 
 vered under his own. For the very idea of a reason betokens 
 approbation : so that to deliver a remark under that character, 
 and that without censure is to adopt it. A man will scarcely, 
 therefore, without some note of disapprobation, be the instrument 
 of introducing, in the guise of a reason, an argument which he 
 does not really wish to see approved. Some method or other 
 he will take to wash his hands of it : some method or other he 
 will take to let men see that what he means to be understood to 
 do, is merely to report the judgment of another, not to pass one 
 of his own. Upon that other, then, he will lay the blame : at 
 least he will take care to repel it from himself. If he omits to 
 do this, the most favourable cause that can be assigned to the 
 omission is indifference — indifference to the public welfare — that 
 indiflFerence which it is itself a crime. 
 
 It is wonderful how forward some have been to look upon it 
 as a kind of presumption, and ingratitude, and rebellion, and 
 cruelty, and I know not what besides, not to allege only, nor to 
 own, but to suffer any one so much as to imagine, that an old- 
 established law could in any respect be a fit object of condemna- 
 tion. Whether it has been a kind of personification that has 
 been the cause of this, as if the Law were a living creature, or 
 whether it has been the mechanical veneration for antiquity, or 
 what other delusion of the fancy, I shall not here inquire. For 
 my pai-t, I know not for what good reason it is that the merit of 
 justifying a law when right, should have been thought greater 
 than that of censuring it when wrong. Under a government of 
 laws, what is the motto of a good citizen^ To obey punctually ; 
 to censure freely. 
 
238 FREE INaniRY INTO EXISTING INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Thus much is certain ; that a system that is never to be cen- 
 sured, will never be improved: that if nothing is ever to be found 
 fault with, nothing will ever be mended : and that a solution to 
 justify every thing at any rate, and to disapprove of nothing, is 
 a resolution which, pursued in future, must stand as an effectual 
 bar to all the addiliunal happiness we can ever hope for ; pur- 
 sued hitherto, would have robbed us of that share of happiness 
 which we enjoy already. 
 
 Nor is a disposition to find " every thing as it should be," less 
 at variance with itself, than with reason and utility. The com- 
 mon-place arguments in which it vents itself justify not what is 
 established, in effect, any more than they condemn it ; since 
 whatever now is establishment, once was innovation. 
 
 Precipitate censure, cast on a political institution, does but re- 
 coil on the head of him who casts it. From such an attack it 
 is not the institution itself, if well-grounded, that can suffer. 
 What a man says against it, either makes impression or makes 
 none. If none, it is just as if nothing had been said about the 
 matter ; if it does make an impression, it naturally calls up some 
 one or other in defence. For if the institution is in truth a bene- 
 ficial one to the community in general, it cannot but have given 
 an interest in its preservation to a number of individuals. By 
 their industry, then, the reasons on which it is grounded are 
 brought to light ; from the observation of which, those who ac- 
 quiesced in it before upon trust, now embrace it upon conviction. 
 Censure, therefore, though ill-founded, has no other effect upon 
 an institution than to bring it to that test, by which the value of 
 those, indeed, on which prejudice alone has stamped a currency, 
 is cried down, but by which the credit of those of sterling utility 
 is confirmed. 
 
 Nor is it by any means from passion and ill-humour, that cen- 
 sure, passed upon legal institutions, is apt to take its birth. 
 When it is from passion and ill-humour, that men speak, it is with 
 men that they are in ill-humour, not with laws ; it is men, not 
 laws, that are the butt of " arrogance." Spleen and turbulence 
 may indeed prompt men to quarrel with living individuals ; but 
 when they make complaint of the dead letter of the Law, the 
 work of departed lawgivers, against whom no personal antipathy 
 ,can have subsisted, it is always from the observation, or from the 
 belief at least, of some real grievance. The law is no man's 
 enemy ; the Law is no man's rival. Ask the clamorous and un- 
 ruly multitude — it is never the Law itself that is in the wrong ; 
 it is always some wicked interpreter of the Law that has cor- 
 rupted and abused it. 
 
WHAT ABUSE WILL NOT FINO SUPPORTERS ? 239 
 
 Thus destitute of foundation are the terrors, or pretended 
 terrors, of those who shudder at the idea of a free censure of es- 
 tablished institutions : so little does the peace of society require 
 the aid of those lessons which teach men to accept of any thing 
 as a reason, and to yield the same abject and indiscriminating 
 homage to the Laws here, which is paid to the despot elsewhere. 
 The fruits of such tuition are visible enough in the character of 
 that race of men who have always^ occupied too large a space in 
 the circle of the profession ; a passive and enervate race, ready 
 to swallow any thing, and to acquiescie in any thing ; with in- 
 tellects incapable of distinguishing right from wrong, and with 
 affections alike indifferent taeither; insensible, short-sighted, ob- 
 stinate ; lethargic, yet liable to be driven into convulsions by 
 false terrors ; deaf to the voice of reason and public utility ; obse- 
 quious only to the whisper of interest, and to" the beck of power, 
 —i. 229-231. 
 
 WHAT Abuse! will not find stJPJPORTERS 7 
 
 In Mexico, a rule was established giving power to a certain 
 person or set of persons in authority, on condition of pronouncing 
 some word or other, translated by us into the word sacrifice, to 
 murder any and as many persons as' he pleased. In some new- 
 ly-discovered islands of tlie South Sea, the like rule has place, 
 and is acted upon to this day. 
 
 In this country, this* rule is looked upon as an improper one : 
 nor, supposing a motion made for the' establishment of any sucli 
 i-ule, would so much as a single voice (it is' supposed) be found 
 to second it. Why ] Answer : For three very good reasons : — 
 I. Because it is established in a foreign country ; 2. Because, in 
 that foreign country, the manners and opinions are in a savage 
 state ; 3. Because it iff not established- in our own. 
 
 But, supposing this said rule actually established, and still in 
 force, and a motion now made tending to the abolition of it, — 
 would such a- motion pass nemirie conlradicenle? So far from 
 it, that, if at all, it would not pass but at the end of a considera- 
 ble number of years : during which,' every session, would have 
 been emptied upon it the whole quiver full of those fallacies which, 
 having for their c&mraon property that of being irrelevant with 
 relation to every proposition which- they are employed to combat, 
 would apply with equal force and propriety to a proposition for 
 divesting a king of the prerogative of murdering an unlimited 
 number of his subjects at his pleasure, and to a proposition for 
 
204 THEORY OP THE SOCIAL COMPACT. 
 
 divesting a king's nominees, under fiie name of judges, of the 
 privilege of destroying every year, by a slow deatli, an unlimited 
 number of those same subjects; having first brought them to 
 ruin, under and by virtue of a violation of that primary principle 
 of justice, which prescribes as the first step proper to be taken 
 by a judge, the giving to the parties on both sides (with or with- 
 out their respective agents) a real hearing in his presence. — vii. 
 233-234. 
 
 THEORY OF THE SOCIAL COMPACT. 
 
 That compacts, by whomsoever entered into ought to be kept ; 
 — that men are hound by compacts, are propositions which men, 
 without knowing or inquiring why, were disposed universally to 
 accede to. The observance of promises they had been accus- 
 tomed to see pretty constantly enforced. They had been ac- 
 customed to see Kings, as well as others, behave themselves as 
 if bound by them. This proposition, then, " that men are bound 
 by compacts;'" and this other, "that, if one party performs not 
 his part, the other is released from his," being propositions which 
 no m.an disputed, were propositions which no man had any call 
 to prove. In theory they were assumed for axioms : and in prac- 
 tice they were observed as rules. If, on any occasion, it was 
 thought proper to make a show of proving them, it was ra- 
 ther for form's sake, than for any thing else ; and that rather in 
 the way of memento or instruction to acquiescing auditors, than 
 in the way of proof against opponents. On such an occasion, 
 the common-place retinue of phrases was at hand : Justice, Bight 
 Reason, required it ; the Law of Nature commanded it, and so 
 forth : all which are but so many ways of intimating that a man 
 is firmly persuaded of the truth of this or that moral proposition, 
 though he either thinks he need not, or finds he cnrit tell why. 
 Men were too obviously and too generally interested in the ob- 
 servance of these rules, to entertain doubts concerning the 
 force of any arguments they saw employed in their support. It 
 is an old observation, how interest smooths the road to Faith. 
 
 A compact, then, it was said, was made by the King and 
 People : the terms of it were to this efl'ect :— The People, on their 
 part, promised to the King a general oliedience: the King, on his 
 part, promised to govern the People in such a piirticu/ar manner 
 always, as should be subservient to their happiness. I insist 
 not on the words: I undertake only for the sense ; as far as an ima- 
 
THEORY OF THE SOCIAL COMPACT. 241 
 
 ginary exigagement, so loosely and so variously worded by those 
 who Jiave imagined it, is icapable of any decided signification. 
 Assuming, then, as a general rule, that promises, when made, 
 ought to be observed; and, as a point of fact, that a promise to 
 this effect in particular had been made by the party in question, 
 men were more ready to deem themselves qualified to judge 
 when it was such a promise was broken, than to decide directliy 
 and avowedly on the delicate question, when it was that a King 
 acted so far in opposition to the happiness of his People, that 
 it were better no longer to obey him. 
 
 It is manifest, on a very little consideration, that nothing was 
 gwed by this manoeuvre after all: no difficulty removed by it. 
 It was still necessary, and that as much as ever, that the ques- 
 tion men studied to avoid should be determined, in order to de- 
 termine the question they thought to substitute in its room. It 
 was stiU necessary to determine, whether the King in question 
 had, or had not, acted so far in opposition to the happiness of 
 his people, that it were better no longer to obey. him; in order 
 to determine, whether the promise he was supposed to have 
 made, had, or had not, been broken. For what was the sup- 
 posed purport of this promise? It was no other than what has 
 just been mentioned. 
 
 Let it be said, that part at least of this promise was to govern 
 in subservience to Law: that hereby a more precise lule was 
 laid down for his conduct, by means of this supposal of a pro- 
 mise, than that other loose and general rule to govern in sub- 
 servience to the happiness of his people: and that, by this means, 
 it is the letter of the Law that forms the tenor of the rule. 
 
 Now true it is, that the governing in opposition to Law, is one 
 way of governing in opposition to the happiness of the people: 
 the natural effect of such a contempt of the Law being, if not ac- 
 tually to destroy, at least to threaten with destruction, all those 
 rights and privileges that are founded on it: rights and privi- 
 leges on the enjoyment of which that happiness depends. But 
 still it is not this that can be safely taken for the entire purport 
 of the promise here in question: and that for several reasons. 
 First, Because the most mischievous, and under certain constitu- 
 tions the most feasible, method of governing in opposition to the 
 happiness of the people, is, by setting the Law itself in opposition 
 to their happiness. Second, Because it is a case very conceivable, 
 that a King may, to a great degree, impair the happiness of his 
 people without violating the letter of any single Law. Third, 
 Because extraordinary occasions may now and then occur, in 
 which the happiness of the people may be better promoted by 
 21 
 
243 THEORY OF THE SOCIAL COMPACT. 
 
 "acting, for the moment, in opposition to the Law, than in subser- 
 vience to it. Fourth, Because it is not any single violation of the 
 Law, as such, that can properly be taken for a breach of his part 
 of the contract, so as to be understood to have released the peo- 
 ple from the obligation of performing theirs. For, to quit the 
 fiction, and resume the language of plain truth, it is scarce ever 
 any single violation of the Law that, by being submitted to, can 
 produce so much mischief as shall surpass the probable mischief 
 of resisting it. If every single instance whatever of such a vio- 
 lation were to be deemed an entire dissolution of the contract, a 
 man who reflects at all would scarce find any where, I believe, 
 under the sun, that Government which he could allow to sub- 
 sist for twenty years together. It is plain, therefore, that to 
 pass any sound decision upon the question which the inventors 
 of this fiction substituted instead of the true one, the latter was 
 still necessary to be decided. All they gained by their con- 
 trivance was, the convenience of deciding it obliquely, as it 
 were, and by a side wind; that is, in a crude and hasty way, 
 without any direct and steady examination. 
 
 But, after all, for what reason is it, that men ought to keep 
 their proiuises? The moment any intelligible reason is given, 
 it is this: that it is for the advantage of society they should keep 
 them; and if 'hey do not, that as far as punishment will go, they 
 should be made to keep them. It is for the advantage of the 
 whole number that the promises of each individual should be 
 kept: and, rather than they should not be kept, that such indi- 
 viduals as fail to keep them should be punished. If it be asked, 
 how this appears? the answer is at hand: — Such is the benefit 
 to gain, and mischief to avoid, by keeping them, as much more 
 than compensates the mischief of so much punishment as is re- 
 quisite to oblige men to it. Whether the dependence of benefit 
 and mischief (that is, oi pleasure and pain) upon men's conduct 
 in this behalf, be as here stated, is a question oi fad, to be de- 
 cided, in the same manner that all other questions of fact are to 
 be decided, by testimony, observation, and experience.* 
 
 * The importance which the observance of promises is of to the happi- 
 ness of society, is placed in a very etriiiing and satisfactory point of view, 
 in a litlle apologue of Montesquieu, entitled, The History of the Troglo- 
 dyles. The Troglodytes are a people who pay no regard lo promises. By 
 the natural consequences of this disposition, they fall from one scene of 
 misery into another; and are at last exterminated. The same Philosopher 
 in his Spirit of Laws, copying and refining upon the current jargon, feigns 
 a Jaw for this and other purposes, after defining a Law to be a relation. 
 How much more instructive on this head is the fable of the Troglodytes, 
 than the pseudo-metaphysical sophistry of the Esprit des Loix!' 
 
THEORY OF THE SOCIAL COMPACT. 243 
 
 This, then, and no other being the reason why men should be 
 made to keep their promises, viz. that it is for the advantage of 
 society that they should, is a reason that may as vi^ell be given at 
 once why Kings, on the one hand, in governing, should in gene- 
 ral keep within established Laws, and (to speak universally) ab- 
 stain from all such measures as tend to the unhappiness of their 
 subjects: and, on the other hand, why subjects should obey Kings 
 as long as they so conduct themselves, and no longer; why they 
 should obey, in short, so Ions: as the probable mischiefs of obe- 
 dience are less than the probable mischiefs of resistance: why, 
 in a word, taking the whole body together, it is their duty to 
 obey just so long as it is their interest, and no longer. This 
 being the case, what need of saying of the one, that he promised 
 so to govern: of the other, that they promised so to obey, when 
 the fact is otherwise? 
 
 True it is that, in this country, according to ancient forms, 
 some sort of vague promise of good government is made by 
 kidgs at the ceremony of their coronation: and let the accla- 
 mations, perhaps given, perhaps not given, by chance persons 
 out of the surrounding multitude, be construed into a promise 
 of obedience on the part of the whole multitude: that whole mul- 
 titude itself a small drop collected together by chance out of the 
 ocean of the state: and let the two promises thus made be 
 deemed to have formed a perfect compact: — not that either of 
 them is declared to be the consideration of the other. 
 
 Make the most of this concession: one experiment there is, 
 by which every reflecting man may satisfy himself, I think be- 
 yond a doubt that it is the consideration o( 'Utility, and no other, 
 that, secretly, perhaps, but unavoidably, has governed his judg- 
 ment upon all these matters. The experiment is easy and de- 
 cisive. It is but to reverse, in supposition, in the first place, the 
 import of the particular promise thus feigned; in the next place, 
 the effect in pointof M<i7t(y of the observance of promises in ge- 
 neral. Suppose the king to promise that he would govern his 
 subjects not according to Law; not in the view to promote their 
 happiness: — would this be binding upon himP Suppose the 
 people to promise they would obey him at all events, let him 
 govern as he will; let him govern to their destruction: — would 
 this be binding upon themP Suppose the constant and univer- 
 sal effect of an observance of promises were to produce mis- 
 chief, would it then be men's duty to observe them? would it 
 then be right to make Laws, and apply punishment to oblige 
 men to observe them? 
 
 " No," (it may perhaps be replied;) " but for this reason: 
 
244 
 
 lUnEVOCABLE LAWS. 
 
 among promises, some there are that, as every one allows, are 
 void: now these you have been supposing, are unquestionably 
 of the number. A promise that is in itself void, cannot, it is 
 true, create any obligation: But allow the promise to be valid, 
 and it is the promise itself that creates the obligation, and no- 
 thing else." The fallacy of this argument it is easy to perceive. 
 For what is it, then, that the promise depends on for its validi- 
 ty P what is it that being present makes it valid? what is it that 
 being wanting makes it voidp To acknowledge that any one 
 promise may be void, is to acknowledge that if any other is 
 binding, it is not merely because it is a promise. That circum- 
 stance, thep, .whatever it be, on which the validity of a promise 
 depends; that circumstance, I say, and not the promise itself, 
 must, it is plain, be the cause of the obligation which a promise 
 is apt in general to carry with it. 
 
 But farther. Allow for argument's sake, what we have dis- 
 proved: allow that the obligation of a promise is independent 
 of every other: allow that a promise is binding propria vi: 
 Binding, then, on whom' On him certainly who makes it. 
 Admit this: For what reason is the same individual promise to' 
 he binding on those who never made it? The YiT\g,Jif/y years' 
 ago, promised my great-grandfather to govern him according 
 to law: my great-grandfather,^/?/ j/e«rs ago, promised the king 
 to obey him according to law. The king, just now, promised 
 my neighbour to govern him according to law: my neighbour, 
 just now, promised the king to obey him according to law. Be 
 it so: What are these promises, all or any of them, to meP To 
 make answer to this question, some other principle, it is mani- 
 fest, must be resorted to, than that of the intrinsic obligation of 
 promises upon those who make them. 
 
 Now this other principle that still recurs upon us, what other 
 can it be than the principle of utility? The principle which 
 furnishes us with that reason, which alone depends not upon 
 any higher reason, but which is itself the sole and all-sufficient 
 reason for every point of practice whatsoever. — i. 269-372. 
 
 IRREVOCABLE LAWS. 
 
 At each point of time, the sovereign for the time possesses 
 such means as the nature of the case affords, for making himself 
 acquainted with the exigencies of his own time. 
 
 With relation to the future, the sovereign has no such means 
 
IRREVOCABLE LA"WS. 245 
 
 of information ; it is only by a sort of vague anticipation — a sort 
 of rough and almost random guess drawn by analogy, that the 
 sovereign of this year can pretend to say what will be the exi- 
 gencies of the country this time ten years. 
 
 Here, then, to the extent of the pretended immutable law, is the 
 government transferred from those who possess the best possible 
 means of information, to those who, by their very position, are 
 necessarily incapacitated from knowing any thing at all about 
 the matter. 
 
 Instead of being guided by their own judgment, the men of 
 the nineteenth century shut their own eyes, and give themselves 
 up to be led blindfold by the men of the eighteenth century. 
 
 The men who have the means of knowing the whole body of 
 the facts, on which the correctness and expediency of the judg- 
 ment to be formed must turn, give up their own judgment to 
 that of a set of men entirely destitute of any of the requisite 
 knowledge of such facts. 
 
 Men who have a century more of experience to ground their 
 judgments on, surrender their intellect to men who had a century 
 less experience, and who unless that deficiency constitutes a 
 claim, have no claim to preference. 
 
 If the prior generation were, in respect of intellectual qualifi- 
 cation, ever so much superior to the subsequent generation, — if it 
 understood so much better than the subsequent generation itseli^ 
 the interest of that subsequent generation, — could it have been 
 in an equal degree anxious to promote that interest, and conse- 
 quently equally attentive to those facts with which, though in 
 order to form a judgment it ought to have been, it is impossible 
 that it should have been acquainted? In a word, will its love 
 for that subsequent generation be quite so great as that same 
 generation's love for itself! 
 
 Not even here, after a moment's deliberate reflection, will the 
 assertion be in the affirmative. 
 
 And yet it is their prodigious anxiety for the welfare of their 
 posterity that produces the propensity of these sages to tie up the 
 hands of the same posterity for evermore, to act as guardians to 
 its perpetual and incurable weakness, and take its conduct for 
 ever out of its own hands. 
 
 If it be right that the conduct of the nineteenth century should 
 be determined not by its own judgment but by that of the 
 eighteenth, it will be equally right that the conduct of the 
 twentieth century should be determined not by its own judgment 
 but by that of the nineteenth. 
 
 The same principle still pursued, what at length would.be the 
 consequence? That in process of time, the practice of legisla- 
 
 21* 
 
246 CAN THE POWER OP THE LEGISLATURE BE LIMITED? 
 
 lion would be at an end: the conduct and fate of all men would 
 be determined by those who neither knew nor cared any thing 
 about the matter; and the aggregate body of the living would 
 remain for ever in subjection to an inexorable tyranny, exercised, 
 as it were, by the aggregate body of the dead. 
 
 This irrevocable law, whether good or bad at the moment of 
 its enactment, is found at some succeeding period to be produc- 
 tive of mischief — uncompensated mischief — to any amount. 
 Now, of this mischief, what possibility has the country of being 
 rid? 
 
 A despotism, though it were that of a Caligula or a Nero, 
 might be to any degree less mischievous, less intolerable, than 
 any such immutable law. By benevolence, (for even a tyrant 
 may have his moments of benevolence,) by benevolence, by 
 prudence — in a word, by caprice — the living tyrant might be 
 induced to revoke his law, and release the country from its con- 
 sequences. But the dead tyrant? who shall make him feel? 
 who shall make him hear? 
 
 Let it not be forgotten, that it is only to a bad purpose that 
 this and every other instrument of deception will in general be 
 employed. 
 
 It is only when the law in question is mischievous, and gene- 
 rally felt and understood to be such, that an argument of this 
 stamp will be employed in the support of it. 
 
 Suppose the law a good one, it will be supported, not by ab- 
 surdity and deception, but by reasons drawn from its own excel- 
 lence."— ii. 402-403. 
 
 A declaration or assertion that this or that law is immutable, 
 so far from being a proper instrument to ensure its permanency, 
 is rather a presumption that such law has some mischievous 
 tendency. 
 
 The better the law, the less is any such extraneous argument 
 likely to be recurred to for the support of it; the worse the law, 
 and thence the more completely destitute of all intrinsic support, 
 the more likely is it that support should be sought for it from 
 this extraneous source. — ii. 407. 
 
 CAN THE POWER OF THE LEGISLATURE BE 
 LIMITED? 
 
 The legislature cannot do it? The legislature co«not make a 
 law to this effect? Why cannot? What is there that should 
 
CAN THE POWER OP THE LEGISLATURE BE LIMITED ) 247 
 
 hinder them? Why not this, as well as so many other laws 
 murmured at, perhaps as expedient, yet submitted to without 
 any question of the right? With men of the same party, with 
 men whose affections are already listed against the law in ques- 
 tion, any thing will go down : any rubbish is good that will add 
 fuel to the flame. But with regard to an impartial by-stander, 
 it is plain that it is not denying the right of the legislature, their 
 authority, their power, or whatever be the word — it is not deny- 
 ing that they can do what is in question — it is not that, I say, 
 or any discourse verging that way, that can tend to give him 
 the smallest satisfaction. 
 
 Grant even the proposition in general : — What are we the 
 nearer'! Grant that there are certain bounds to the authority of 
 the legislature : — Of what use is it to say so, when these bounds 
 are what nobody has ever attempted to mark out to any useful 
 purpose ; that is, in any such manner whereby it might be 
 known beforehand what description a law must be of to fall with- 
 in and what to fall beyond them 1 Grant that there are things 
 which the legislator cannot do; — grant that there are laws 
 which exceed the power of the legislature to establish : what 
 rule does this sort of discourse furnish us for determining whe- 
 ther any one that is in question is, or is not, of the number 1 
 As far as I can discover, none. Either the discourse goes on 
 in the confusion it began ; — either all rests in vague assertions, 
 and no intelligible argument at all is offered ; or if any, such ar- 
 guments as are drawn from the principle of utility: arguments 
 which, in whatever variety of words expressed, come at last to 
 neither more nor less than this : that the tendency of the law is, 
 to a greater or less degree, pernicious. If this then be the result, 
 of the argument, why not come home to it at once? Why turn 
 aside into a wilderness of sophistry, when the path of plain rea- 
 son is straight before us ? 
 
 What practical inferences those who maintain this language- 
 tnean should be deduced from it, is not altogether clear ; nor, per- 
 haps, does evey one mean the same. Some who speak of a law 
 as being void (for to this expression, not to travel through the 
 whole list I shall confine myself) would persuade us to look 
 lipon the authors of it as having thereby /oj/eiied, as the phrase 
 is, their whole power : as well that of giving force to the particu- 
 lar law in question, as to any other. These are they who, had 
 they arrived at the same practical conclusion through the prin- 
 ciple of utility, would have spoken of the law as being to such 
 a degree pernicious, as that, were the bulk of the community to 
 see it in its true light, the probable mischief of resisting it would 
 
248 CAN THE POWER OP THE LEGISLATURE BE LIMITED 1 
 
 be less than the probable mischief of submitting to it. These 
 point, in the first instance, at hoslile opposition. 
 
 Those who say nothing about forfeiture are commonly less 
 violent in their views. These are they who, were they to 
 ground themselves on the principle of utility, and to use 
 our language, would have spoken of the law as being mis- 
 chievous indeed, but without speaking of it as being mischie- 
 vous to the degree that has been just mentioned. The mode 
 of opposition which they point to is one which passes under 
 the appellation of a legal one. 
 
 Admit, then, the law to be void in their sense, and mark the 
 consequences. The idea annexed to the epithet void is ob- 
 tained from those instances in which we see it applied to a private 
 instrument. The consequence of a private instrument's being 
 void is, that all persons concerned are to act as if no such in- 
 strument had existed. The consequence, accordingly, of a law's 
 being void must be, that people shall act as if there were no such 
 Jaw about the matter : and therefore, that if any person, in vir- 
 tue of the mandate of the law, should do any thing in coercion of 
 another person which without such law he would be punishable 
 for doing, he would still be punishable ; to wit, by appointment 
 of the judicial power. Let the law, for instance, be a law im- 
 posing a tax : a man who should go about to levy the tax by force 
 would be punishable as a trespasser : should he chance to be 
 killed in the attempt, the person killing him would not be punish- 
 able as for murder : should he kill, he himself would, perhaps, 
 be punishable as for murder. To whose office does it apper- 
 tain to do those acts in virtue of which such punishment would 
 be inflicted'! To that of the Judges. Applied to practice, then, 
 the effect of this language is, by an appeal made to the Judges, 
 to confer on those magistrates a controlling power over the acts 
 of the legislature. ' 
 
 By this management, a particular purpose might, perhaps, by 
 chance be answered : and let this be supposed a good one. Still 
 what benefit would, from the general tendency of such a doctrine, 
 and such a practice in conformity to it, accrue to the body of the 
 people, is more than I can conceive. A Parliament, let it be sup- 
 posed, fs too much under the influence of the Crown ; pays too 
 little regard to the sentiments and the interests of the people. Be it 
 so. The people, at any rate, if not so great a share as they might 
 and ought to have, have had, at least, some shaxe in choosing it. 
 Give to the Judges a power of annulling Its acts; and you trans- 
 fer a portion of the supreme power from an assembly which the 
 people have had some share, at least, in choosing, to a set of men 
 
CAN THE POWER OP THE LEGISLATURE BE LIMITED f 249 
 
 in the choice of whom they have not the least imaginable share : 
 to a set of men appointed solely by the Crown : appointed solely, 
 and avowedly, and constantly, by that very magistrate whose 
 partial and occasional influence is the very grievance you seek 
 to remedy. 
 
 In the heat of debate, some, perhaps, would be for saying of 
 this management, that it was transferring at once the supreme 
 authority from the legislative power to the judicial. But this 
 would be going too far on the other side. There is a wide differ- 
 ence between a positive and a negative part in legislation. There 
 is a wide difference, again, between a negative upon reasons given, 
 and a negative without any. The power of repe.aling a law, 
 even for reasons given, is a greater power : too great, indeed, for 
 Judges ; but still very distinguishable from, and much inferior 
 to, that of inaldng one. 
 
 To return for a moment to the language used by those who 
 speak of the supreme power as being limited in its own nature. 
 One thing I would wish to have remembered. What is here said 
 of the impropriety, and evil influence of that kind of discourse, is 
 not intended to convey the smallest censure on those who use it, 
 as if intentionally accessary to the ill effects it has a tendency to 
 produce. It is rather a misfortune in the language, than a fault 
 of any person in particular. The original of it is lost in the 
 darkness of antiquity. We inherited it from our fathers, and 
 maugre all its' inconveniences, are likely, I doubt, to transmit it 
 to our children. 
 
 I cannot look upon this as mere dispute of words : I cannot 
 help persuading myself, that the disputes between contending 
 parties — between the defenders of a law and the opposers of it, 
 would stand a much better chance of being adjusted than at pre- 
 sent, were they but explicitly and constantly referred at once to 
 the principle of utility. The footing on which this principle rests 
 every dispute, is that of matter of fact; that is, future fact — the 
 probability of certain future contingencies. Were the debate, then, 
 conducted under the auspices of this principle, one of two things 
 would happen : either men would come to an agreement con- 
 cerning that probability, or they would see at length, after due 
 discussion of the real grounds of the dispute, that no agreement 
 was to be hoped for. They would, at any rate, see clearly and 
 explicitly the point on which the disagreement turned. The dis- 
 contented party would then take their resolution to resist or to 
 submit, upon just grounds, according as it should appear to them 
 worth their while — according to what should appear to them the 
 
250 CAN THE POWER OF THE LEGISLATURE BE LIMITED "i 
 
 importance of the matter in dispute — according to what should 
 appear to them the probability or improbability of success— ac' 
 cording, in short, as the mischiefi of submisnon should appear 
 to bear a less, or a greater ratio to the mischiefs of resistance. 
 But the door to reconcilement would be much more open, when 
 they saw that it might be not a mere affair of passion, but a dif- 
 ference of judgment, and that, for anything they could know to 
 the contrary, a sincere one, that was the ground of quarrel. 
 
 All else is but womanish scolding and childish altercation, 
 which is sure to irritate, and which never can persuade. / say, 
 the legislature " cannofdo this — / say, that it can. /say, that 
 to do this, exceeds the bounds of its authority — / say, it does 
 not." It is evident, that a pair of disputants setting out in this 
 manner, may go on irritating and perplexing one another for 
 everlasting, without the smallest chance of ever coming to an 
 agreement. It is no more than announcing, and that in an ob- 
 scure and at the same time a peremptory and captious manner, 
 their opposite persuasions, or rather affections, on a question of 
 which neither of them sets himself to discuss the grounds. The 
 question of utility, all this while, most probably is never so much 
 as at all brought upon the carpet : if it be, the language in which 
 it is discussed is sure to be warped and clouded to make it match 
 with the obscure and entangled pattern we have seen. 
 
 On the other hand, had the debate been originally and avowedly 
 instituted on the footing of utility, the parties might at length have 
 come to an agreement ; or at least to a visible and explicit issue. 
 — " / say that the mischiefs of the measure in question are to such 
 an amount — / say, not so, but to a less. — / say, the benefits of 
 it are only to such an amount — / say, not so, but to a greater." 
 — This, we see, is a ground of controversy very different from the 
 former. The question is now manifestly a question of conjecture 
 concerning so many future contingent matters of fact : to solve 
 it, both parties then are naturally directed to support their re- 
 pective persuasions by the only evidence the nature of the case 
 admits of; — the evidence of such past matters of fact as appear 
 to be analogous to those contingent future ones. Now these past 
 facts are almost always numerous : so numerous, that till brought 
 into view for the purpose of the debate, a great proportion of them 
 are what may very fairly have escaped the observation of one of 
 the parties : and it is owing, perhaps, to this and nothing else, 
 that that party is of the persuasion which sets it at variance with 
 the other. Here, then, we have a plain and open road, perhaps, 
 to present reconcilement: at the worst, to an intelligible and 
 
THE PRACTICE OF CALtlNG DAD LAWS " ILLEGAL." 251 
 
 explicit issue — that is, to such a ground of difference as may, 
 when thoroughly trodden and explored, be found to lead on to 
 reconcilement at the last. Men, let them but once clearly under- 
 stand one another, will not be long ere they agree. It is the 
 perplexity of ambiguous and sophistical discourse that, while it 
 distracts and eludes the apprehension, stimulates and inflames 
 the passions.— i. 288-292. 
 
 THK PRACTICE OF CALLING BAD LAWS " ILLEGAL." 
 
 So completely is the Idea of right confounded with the idea of 
 judges' will in the mind of an English lawyer — so completely is 
 the difference between right and wrong understood by him to 
 be dependent upon that will, that when a practice, howsoever 
 established, happens by whatsoever cause to have been brought 
 under his displeasure, — no notion can he form to himself of any 
 other mode of combating it, than by insisting that it is illegal : 
 — in other words, that it is not established. 
 
 Humanity is a virtue which in England, for at least several 
 generations past, has in no class of men been altogether wanting 
 — not even among lawyers. 
 
 Among lawyers, accordingly, and in more instances than one, 
 there have been found those, who under the impulse of this mo- 
 tive have raised their voices against this abuse.* They have 
 argued against it; — they have complained of it; — they have 
 filled volumes with their complaints. They have argued against 
 it, — but how ? By showing the mischievousness, the impolicy of 
 it ) Something more or less to this effect : — but so long as the 
 legality of it remained unquestioned, they felt what they could 
 not but feel, how unimpressive would be all arguments drawn 
 from such contemned and neglected sources. Yes* it was. ille- 
 gal. Imprisonment for debt illegal'! Then what else is there 
 that is legal 1 If in this case, practice of justice — practice per- 
 sisted in century after century, does not make law, in what other 
 instance does it make law ■! If by its mischievousness the prac- 
 tice of English judges be rendered illegal, in what quarter of the 
 whole field of law will any legal practice be to be found "i 
 
 Illegal 1 No : the great grievance is — not that it is illegal, but 
 
 * The system of iiuprisoninenl for dubt in England anterior to Lord 
 Campbell's Act.— Ed. 
 
252 
 
 DREAD OP INNOVATION. 
 
 that it is legal: — not that at the hands of the authors of the mis- 
 chief a remedy may be hoped for, but that it is hopeless. — vi. 180. 
 
 DREAD OF INNOVATION. 
 
 Take, for instance, the word innovation. On whatsoever 
 occasion they are for the first time respectively carried into ef- 
 fect or proposed, the best measures and the worst have this in 
 common, that they are new. So long as any law or established 
 practice in government exists, to which the appellation of ati 
 abuse can with propriety be applied, the removal of such abuse 
 — in one word rejorm, viz. in relation to such abuse — must 
 ever be among the measures to which, if to any, the epithet of 
 good belongs with indisputable propriety — with a degree of 
 propriety still more out of the reach of dispute than that of any 
 measure, the object of which confines itself to melioralion or 
 improvement — to the introducing in any shape a new and posi- 
 tive good, of the number of those without the aid of which the 
 business of society has hitherto been conducted. 
 
 Under its own name consistently with the established forms 
 of decency, nor consequently with any satisfactory expectation 
 of success, abuse cannot in any shape, be by any person de- 
 fended; as little can reform, at least so far as it is understood to 
 go no farther than the removal of acknowledged abuse, be op- 
 posed. But innovation — whatsoever may have been the im- 
 port attached to the word, — not only may find, but continually 
 does find, opponents: — numerous and most strenuous oppo- 
 nents. Innovation is a term applicable to any thing whatsoever 
 that is new: by it is denoted the introduction of any thing that 
 is new: and, as every thing whatsoever, and therefore amongst 
 other things, reform, in whatever shape, and to whatever sub- 
 ject and in whatever shape applied, is on its first being brought 
 on the carpet new; therefore so it is that whoever can succeed 
 in igetting condemnation passed on innovation, succeeds thereby 
 in getting condemnation passed on reform: condemnation for 
 everlasting, on reform to whatsoever abuse applied: in getting 
 — if not perpetuation — actual perpetuation — at any rate judgment 
 of perpetuation, passed in favour of abuse, in whatsoever shape 
 it may then be, or may thereafter come to be, in existence. — v. 
 207. 
 
GRADUAL REFORM " ONE THING AT A TIME." 253 
 
 GRADUAL REFORM-" ONE THING AT A TIME." 
 
 This is neither more nor less than a contrivance for making 
 out of a mere word an excuse for leaving undone an indefinite 
 multitude of things, which the arguer is convinced, and cannot 
 forbear acknowledging, ought to be done. 
 
 Suppose half-a-dozen abuses, which equally and with equal 
 promptitude stand in need of reform — this fallacy requires, that 
 without any reason that can be assigned, other than what is con- 
 tained in the pronouncing or writing of the word gradual, all 
 but one or two of them shall remain untouched. 
 
 Or, what is better, suppose that, to the effectual correction of 
 some one of these abuses, six operations require to be performed — 
 six operations, all of which must be done ere the correction can 
 be effected — to save the reform from the reproach of being vio- 
 lent and intemperate, to secure to it the praise of graduality, mo- 
 deration and temperance, you insist, that of these half-a-dozen 
 necessary operations, some one or some two only shall be talked 
 of, and proposed to be done ; — one, by one bill to be introduced 
 this session, if it be not too late (which you contrive it shall'be ;) 
 another the next session ; which time being come, nothing more 
 is to be said about the matter — and there it ends. 
 
 For this abandonment, no one reason that wUl bear looking at 
 can be numbered up, in the instance of any one of the five mea- 
 sures endeavoured to be laid upon the shelf; for if it could, that 
 would be the reason assigned for the relir;iquishment, and not this 
 unmeaning assemblage of three syllables. 
 
 A suit which, to do full justice to it, requires but six weeks, or 
 six days, or six minutes in one day — has it been made to last 
 six years 1 That your caution and your wisdom may not be 
 questioned, by a first experiment reduce the time to five years ; 
 then if that succeeds, in another parliament, should another par- 
 liament be in humour, (which it is hoped it will not,) reduce it 
 to four years ; then again to three years ; and if it should be the 
 lot of your grandchildren to see it reduced to two years, they 
 may think themselves well off, and admire your prudence. 
 
 Justice — to which in every eye but that of the plunderer and 
 oppressor, rich and poor have an equal right — do nine-tenths of 
 the people stand excluded from all hope of, by the load of expense 
 that has been heaped up. You propose to reduce this expense. 
 The extent of the evil is admitted, and the nature of the remedy 
 22 
 
254 
 
 PUBLIC AND INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS. 
 
 cannot admit of doubt; but by the magic of the three syllables 
 gra-du-al, you will limit the remedy to the reduction of about 
 one-tenth of the expense. Some time afterwards you may re- 
 duce another tenth, and go on so, that in about two centuries, 
 justice may, perhaps, become generally accessible. 
 
 Importance of the business — extreme difficulty of the business 
 — danger of innovation — need of caution and circumspection — 
 impossibility of foreseeing all consequences — danger of precipita- 
 tion — every thing should be gradual — one thing at a time — this 
 is not the time — great occupation at present — wait for more lei- 
 sure — people well satisfied — no petitions presented — no com- 
 plaints heard — no such mischief has yei taken place — stay till it 
 has taken place : — such is the prattle which the magpie in office, 
 who, understanding nothing, understands that he must have 
 something to say on every subject, shouts out among his auditors 
 as a succedaneum to thought. 
 
 Transfer the scene to domestic life, and suppose a man who, 
 his fortune not enabling him without running into debt to keep 
 one race-horse, has been for some time in the habit of keeping 
 six : to transfer to this private theatre the wisdom and the benefit 
 of the gradual system, what you would have to recommend to 
 your friend would be something of this sort : — Spend the first 
 year in considering which of your six horses to give up ; the 
 next year, if you can satisfy yourself which it shall be, give up 
 some one of them : by this sacrifice, the sincerity of your inten- 
 tion, and your reputation for economy will be established ; which 
 done, you need think no more about the matter. — ii. 433. 
 
 RIGHTS OF THE PUBLIC THE RIGHTS OF INDIVIDUALS. 
 
 True it is, that take any man for example, it may with pro- 
 priety be said, that the public has a right to his services, has a 
 right to command his services, for that the interest of any one 
 man ought to give way to the interest of all. But if this be true 
 as to any one man who happens to be first taken, equally true 
 is it of any other, and so in succession of every man. On the 
 one hand, then, each man is under an obligation to submit to any 
 burden that shall be proposed ; on the other hand, each man 
 has an equal right to see the burden imposed, not upon himself, 
 but upon some other. If either of these propositions be taken in 
 their fall extent, as much may be said in favour of the one of 
 them as of the other. In this case, if there were no middle course 
 
FALLACY OF DISTRUST. 255 
 
 to take, things must rest in stattt quo. the scale of utility must 
 remain in equilibrio, one man's interest weighing neither more 
 nor less than another's; the burden would be borne by no body, 
 and the immunity of each would be the destruction of all. But 
 there is a middle course to take, which is to divide the burden, 
 and lay it in equal proportion upon every man. — ii. 207. 
 
 FALLACY OF DISTRUST, OR, « WHAT'S AT THE 
 BOTTOM?" 
 
 Exposition. — This argument may be considered as a parti- 
 cular modification of the No- Innovation argument. An arrange- 
 ment or set of arrangements has been proposed, so plainly bene- 
 ficial, and at the same time so manifestly innoxious, that no pros- 
 pect presents itself of bringing to bear upon them with any effect 
 the cry of No innovation. Is the anti-innovationist mute? No; 
 he has this resource: — In what you see as yet (says he) there 
 may perhaps be no great mischief; but depend upon it, in the 
 quarter from whence these proposed innoxious arrangements 
 come, there are more behind that are of a very different com- 
 plexion; if these innoxious ones are suffered to be carried, others 
 of a noxious character will succeed without end, and will be 
 carried likewise. 
 
 Exposure. — The absurdity of this argument is too glaring to 
 be susceptible of any considerable illustration from any thing 
 that can be said of it: — 
 
 1. In the first place, it begins with a virtual admission of the 
 propriety of the measure considered in itself; and thus contain- 
 ing within itself a demonstration of its own futility, it cuts up 
 from under it the very ground which it is endeavouring to make: 
 yet, from its very weakness, it is apt to derive for the moment a 
 certain degree of force. By the monstrosity of its weakness, a 
 feeling of surprise, and thereupon of perplexity, is apt to be pro- 
 duced: and so long as this feeling continues, a difficulty of find- 
 ing an appropriate answer continues with it. For that which is 
 itself nothing, what answer (says a man) can I find? 
 
 If two measures— G and B — were both brought forward at 
 the same time, G being good and B bad; — rejecting G, because 
 B is bad, would be quite absurd enough; and at first view a man 
 might be apt to suppose that the force of absurdity could go no 
 farther. 
 
 But the present fallacy does in effect go much farther: — two 
 measures, both of- them brought upon the carpet together, both 
 
256 FALLACY OF DISTRUST. 
 
 of them unobjectionable, are to be rejected, not for any thing 
 that is amiss in either of them, but for something that by possi- 
 bility may be found amiss in some other or others that no body 
 knows of, and the future existence of which, without the slight- 
 est ground, is to be assumed and taken for granted. 
 
 In the field of policy as applied to measures, this vicarious 
 reprobation forms a counterpart to vicarious punishment in the 
 field of justice as applied to persons. 
 
 The measure G, which is good, is to be thrown out, because, 
 for ought we can be sure of, some day or other it may happen to 
 be followed by some other measure B, which may be a bad one. 
 A man A, against whom there is neither evidence nor charge, is 
 to be punished, because, for aught we can be sure of, some time 
 or other there may be some other man who will have been 
 guilty. 
 
 If on this ground it be right that the measure in question be 
 rejected, so ought every other measure that ever has been or can 
 be proposed: for of no measure can any body be sure but that it 
 may be followed by some other measure or measures, of which, 
 when they make their appearance, it may be said that they are 
 bad. 
 
 If, then, the argument proves any thing, it proves that no mea- 
 sure ought ever to be carried, or ever to have been carried; and 
 that, therefore, all things that can be done by law or government, 
 and therefore law and government themselves, are nuisances. 
 
 This policy is exactly that which was attributed to Herod in 
 the extermination of the innocents: and the sort of man by whom 
 an argument of this sort can be employed, is the sort of man who 
 would have acted as Herod did, had he been in Herod's place. 
 
 But think, not only what sort of man he must be who can 
 bring himself to employ such an argument; but moreover, what 
 sort of men they must be to whom he can venture to propose 
 it — on whom he can expect it to make any impression, bat such 
 a one as will be disgraceful to himself. " Such drivellers," 
 says he to them in effect, "such drivellers are you, so sure of 
 being imposed upon by any one that will attempt it, that you 
 know not the distinction between good and bad; and when, at 
 the suggestion of this or that man, you have adopted any one 
 measure, good or bad, let but that same man propose any num- 
 ber of other measures, whatever be their character, ye are such 
 idiots and fools, that without looking at them yourselves, or 
 vouchsafing to learn their character from others, you will adopt 
 them in a lump." Such is the compliment wrapt up in this 
 sort of argument, — ii. 421. 
 
FALLACY THAT " THE END JUSTIFIES THE MEANS." 257 
 
 THE FALLACY OF " DON'T ARGUE AGAINST THE 
 USE FEOM THE ABUSE." 
 
 Be the institution what it may, whatsoever good effects there 
 are that have resulted from it, these constitute, as far as ex- 
 perience goes, the use of it; whatsoever ill effects have resulted 
 from it, these, in so far at least as they have been the object of 
 foresight and the result of intention, constitute the abuse of it. 
 
 Thus as to past results: and the same observation applies to 
 expected future ones. 
 
 Now then come the fallacies to the propagation of which it 
 may and must have been directed: — 
 
 1. In taking an account of the effects of an institution, you 
 ought to set down all the good effects, and omit all the bad ones. 
 
 This is one of the purposes to which it is capable of being 
 applied: this needs not much to be said of it. 
 
 2. In taking an account of the effects of an institution, good 
 and bad, you ought not to argue against it on the supposition 
 that the sum of the bad ones is greater than the sura of the good 
 ones, merely from the circumstance, that among all its effects 
 taken together, there are some that belong to the bad side of the 
 account. 
 
 In this latter sense, such is the character of the maxim, that 
 nothing can be said against the truth of it. As an instruction, 
 it is too obvious to be of any use: in the way of warning, it can- 
 not by possibility do any harm; nor is it altogether, out of the 
 sphere of possibility, that in this or that instance it may have 
 its use. 
 
 Applied to a man's pecunfary affairs, it amounts to this; viz. 
 Conclude not that a man has no property because he has some 
 debts.— ii. 469. 
 
 FALLACY THAT "THE END JUSTIFIES THE 
 
 MEANS." 
 
 The end justifies the means. Yes: but on three conditions, 
 any of which failing, no such justification has place: — 
 
 1. One is, that the end be good. 
 
 2. That the means chosen be either purely good — or if evil, 
 having l ess ev il in them than on a balance there is of real good 
 in the en"3I " 
 
 — 22* 
 
258 NO GRIEVANCES NO COMPLAINTS. 
 
 3. That they have more of good in them, or less of evi], as 
 the case may be, than any others, by the employment of which 
 the end might have been attained. 
 
 Laying out of the case these restrictions, note the absurdities 
 that would follow. 
 
 Acquisition of a penny loaf is the end I aim at. The good- 
 ness of it is indisputable. If, by the goodness of the end, any 
 means employed in the attainment of it are justified, instead of 
 a penny, I may give a pound for it: thus stands the justification 
 on the ground of prudence. Or, instead of giving a penny for 
 it, I may cut the baker's throat, and thus get it for nothing: and 
 thus stands the justification on the ground of benevolence and 
 beneficence. — ii. 470. 
 
 FALLACY THAT THERE ARE NO GRIEVANCES 
 WHERE THERE ARE NO COMPLAINTS. 
 
 A new law or measure being proposed in the character of a 
 remedy for some incontestable abuse or evil, an objection is fre- 
 quently started to the following effect: — " The measure is unne- 
 cessary; nobody complains of disorder in that shape in which it 
 is the aim of your measure to propose a remedy to it: even when 
 no cause of complaint has been found to exist, especially under 
 governments which admit of complaints, men have, in general, 
 not been slow to complain; much less where any just cause of 
 complaint has existed." The argument amounts to this: — No- 
 body complains, therefore nobody suffers. It amounts to a veto 
 on all measures of precaution or prevention, and goes to establish 
 a maxim in legislation, directly opposed to the most ordinary 
 prudence of common life; — it enjoins us to build no parapets 
 to a bridge till the number of accidents has raised a universal 
 clamour. 
 
 The argument would have more plausibility than it has, if there 
 were any chance of complaints being attended to — if the silence 
 of those who suffer did not arise from despair, occasioned by 
 seeing the fruitlessness of former complaints. The expense and 
 vexation of collecting and addressing complaints to Parliament 
 being great and certain, complaint will not commonly be made 
 without adequate expectation of relief. But how can any such 
 expectation be entertained by any one who is, in the slightest 
 degree, acquainted with the present constitution of Parliament?* 
 
 * First published in 1824. 
 
A MIND IN SEARCH OP TRUTH. 259 
 
 Members who are independent of, and irresponsible to the peo- 
 ple can have very few, eind very slight motives for attending to 
 complaints, the redress of which would affect their own sinister 
 interests. Again, how many complaints are repressed by the 
 fear of attacking powerful individuals, and incurring resentments 
 which may prove fetal to the complainant ! — i. 430. 
 
 AUTHORITY. 
 
 Where, under the name of deference to authority, or under 
 any other name, the adoption of opinions without examination, 
 and upon trust, is made matter of merit, any one opinion is just 
 as easily adopted as any other: the highest wisdom takes a pride 
 in sinking itself to the level of the lowest folly : and now it is 
 that self-contradictory propositions obtain credence, and that not 
 merely with as little difficulty, but even with less difficulty than 
 is experienced by propositions less directly and palpably repug- 
 nant to reason and common sense. — vi. 49. 
 
 A MEVD IN SEARCH OF TRUTH. 
 
 Perhaps a short sketch of the wanderings of a raw but well- 
 intentioned mind, in its researches after moral truth, may, on 
 this occasion, be not unuseful : for the history of one mind is the 
 history of many. The writings of the honest, but prejudiced. 
 Earl of Clarendon, to whose integrity nothing was wanting, and 
 to whose wisdom little but the fortune of living something later ; 
 and the contagion of a monkish atmosphere : these, and other 
 concurrent causes, had listed my infant affections on the side 
 of despotism. The Genius of the place I dwelt in, the authority 
 of the State, the voice of the Church in her solemn offices: all 
 these taught me to call Charles a martyr, and his opponents rebels. 
 I saw innovation where, indeed, innovation — ^but a glorious in- 
 novation — was, in their efforts to withstand him. I saw false- 
 hood where, indeed, falsehood was, in their disavowals of inno- 
 vation. I saw selfishness, and an obedience to the call of pas- 
 sion, in the effi)rts of the oppressed to rescue themselves from 
 oppression. I saw strong countenance lent, in the sacred 
 writirfgs, to monarchic government ; and none to any other. I 
 saw passive obedience deep stamped with the seal of the Christian 
 Virtues of humility and self-denial. 
 
260 BELIEF. 
 
 Conversing with lawyers, I found them full of the virtues of 
 their Original Contract, as a recipe of sovereign efficacy for re- 
 conciling the accidental necessity of resistance with the general 
 duty of submission. This drug of theirs they administered to 
 me to calm my scruples ; but my unpractised stomach revolted 
 against their opiate. I bid them open to me that page of history 
 in which the solemnization of this important contract was re- 
 corded. They shrunk from this challenge : nor could they, 
 when thus pressed, do otherwise than our author* has done — 
 confess the whole to be a fiction. This, methought, looked ill. 
 It seemed to be the acknowledgment of a bad cause, the bring- 
 ing a fiction to support it. " To prove fiction, indeed," said I, 
 " there is need of fiction ; but it is the character of truth to need 
 no proof but truth. Have you then really any such privilege as 
 that of coining facts'! You are spending argument to no 
 purpose. Indulge yourselves in the license of supposing that to 
 be true which is not, and as well may you suppose that propo- 
 sition itself to be true which you wish to prove, as that other 
 whereby you hope to prove it." Thus continued I, unsatisfying 
 and unsatisfied, till I learned to see that utility was the test and 
 measure of all virtue : of loyalty as much as any : and that 
 the obligation to minister to general happiness was an obliga- 
 tion paramount to, and exclusive of any other. Having thus 
 got the instruction I stood in need of, I sat down to make my 
 profit of it. I bade adieu to the Original Contract : and I left it 
 to those to amuse themselves with this rattle, who could think 
 they needed it,— i. 268-269. 
 
 BELIEF. 
 
 Truth can operate only by supporting evidence: it cannot 
 change sensation; it cannot change the sentiment of truth and 
 falsehood. It is the ignorance of the powers of nature, of the 
 extent of them, and of their limits, that is the cause of the credu- 
 lity of the common people. Miracles and the secrets of nature 
 to these behove to stand upon the same footing. To remove 
 mountains by a word, may seem as easy as to draw fire from 
 the clouds, — that is, according to the vulgar speech, from hea- 
 ven — or to make iron swim. 
 
 Offering rewards for faith, and punishments for the want of it, 
 is, therefore, like offering rewards for, and punishing the want 
 of, prejudice and partiality in a judge. To say, believe this pro- 
 
 * Blacfcslonc. The passage is taken from a note to the " Fragment 
 on Government." 
 
ORIGIN OF BELIEF CAUSE OP BIGOTRY. 261 
 
 position rather than its contrary, is to say do all that is in your 
 power to believe it. 
 
 Now, what is in a man's power to do, in order to believe a pro- 
 position, and all that is so, is to keep back and stifle the evidences 
 that are opposed to it. For, when all the evidences are equally 
 -present to his observation, and equally attended to, to believe or 
 disbelieve is no longer in his power. It is the necessary result 
 of the preponderance of the evidence on one side over that on the 
 other. — X. 146. 
 
 ORIGIN OP BELIEF— CAUSE OF BIGOTRY. 
 
 Take any supposed past matter of fact whatever, giving to it 
 its situation in respect of place and time. At the time in ques- 
 tion, in the place in question, either it had existence, or it had 
 not : there is no medium. Between existence and non-existence 
 there is no medium, no other alternative. By probability — by 
 improbability, — ^by each of these a medium is supposed — an in- 
 definite number of alternatives is s;ipposed. 
 
 At the same time, the same matter of fact which to one man 
 Is probable, or (if such be his confidence) certain, is to another 
 man improbable, or, if such be his confidence, impossible. 
 
 Often and often, even to one and the same man, at different 
 times, all this group of fictitious and mutually incompatible quali- 
 ties have manifested themselves. 
 
 If his persuasion be felt to be of such a strength, that no cir- 
 cumstance capable of being added to the supposed matter of fact 
 could, in his view of the matter, make any addition to that 
 strength ; or ifj on looking round for other conceivable matters of 
 fact, he fails of finding any one, in relation to which his persua- 
 sion of its non-existence could be more intense, — impossible is the 
 epithet he attaches to the supposed matter of fact — impossibility is 
 the quality which he ascribes to it. 
 
 If, on the other had, a circumstance presents itself, by which, 
 in his view of the matter, an addition might be made to the inten- 
 sity of such disaflSrmative persuasion ; or if the supposed matter 
 of fact presents itself as one in relation to which bis persuasion of 
 its non-existence might be more intense ; in such ease, not impos- 
 sible, but improbable, is the epithet, — not impossibility, but impro- 
 bability, is the quality ascribed. 
 
 Certainty, which is the opposite to impossibility, or rather of 
 which impossibility is the opposite, is applied to the persuasion, 
 
262 ORIGIN OP BELIEF — CAUSE OP BIGOTRV. 
 
 and from thence to the supposed matter of fact. It is not, any 
 more than impossibility, applied or applicable to testimony. 
 
 As certainty, so uncertainty, applies itself to the persuasion 
 and the fact, and not to the testimony. In the scale of persuasion, 
 it embraces all degrees except the two extremes. The existence 
 of a fact is not matter of uncertainty to me, if the fact be regard- 
 ed by me as impossible. 
 
 Certainty, therefore, has for its opposite, uncertainty in one 
 way — impossibility in another. Uncertainty, in the language 
 of logicians, is its contradictory opposite — impossibility, its con- 
 trary opposite. 
 
 The fiction by which (in considering the strength of a man's 
 persuasion in relation to this or that fact, and the probative force 
 of any other matter of fact when viewed in the character of an 
 evidentiary fact in relation to it) occasion is taken to ascribe a 
 correspondent quality, indicated by some such words as certainty 
 and probability, to the principal fact itself, — appears to be like 
 so many other figments, among the offspring of the affections and 
 passions incident to human nature. It is among the contrivances 
 a man employs to force other men to entertain, or appear to en- 
 tertain, a persuasion which he himself entertains or appears to 
 entertain, and to make a pretence or apparent justification for 
 the pain which he would find a pleasure in inflicting on those on 
 w^hom a force so applied should have failed to be productive of 
 such its intended effect. 
 
 Were it once to be allowed, that, as applied to the facts them- 
 selves which are in question, probability and certainty are mere 
 fictions and modes of speaking : that all of which, on any such 
 occasion, a man can be assured, is his own persuasion in relation 
 to it ; that that persuasion will have had for its cause some arti- 
 cle or articles of evidence, direct or circumstantial, real or per- 
 sonal, and will be the result of, and in its degree and magnitude 
 proportioned to, the probative force of that evidence ; that of 
 such evidence, neither the probative force, nor consequently the 
 strength of his persuasion, are at his command ; that it is not in 
 the power of any article of evidence to have acted with any de- 
 gree of probative force upon ; nor consequently to have given 
 existence to any persuasion in a mind to which it has not been 
 applied ; and that therefore it is not in the power of any evidence 
 to give either certainty or probability to any matter of fact (the 
 matter of fact being, at the time in question, either in existence 
 or not in existence, and neither the evidence nor the persuasion 
 being capable of making any the slightest change in it ;) that it 
 depends in a considerable degree upon the mental constitutions of 
 
IMPOSSIBILITIES AND VERBAL CONTRADICTIONS, 263 
 
 A and B respectively, what sort of persuasion, if any, shall be 
 produced in their minds by the application of any given article 
 of evidence ; and that it is no more in the power of evidence ap- 
 plied to the mind of A, and not to that of B, to produce in the 
 mind of B, a persuasion of any kind, than it is in the povs'er of 
 evidence applied to the mind of B, and not of A, to produce a 
 persuasion on the mind of A ; — were all this to be duly con- 
 sidered and allowed, neither the existence nor the non-existence 
 of a persuasion concerning a matter of fact of any sort, would 
 have the effect of presenting to any person any other person as 
 a proper object of punishment, or so much as resentment. 
 
 But the certainty of this or that fact is assumed as perfect and 
 indisputable : and thus he of whom it is conceived that he fails 
 of regarding, or of representing himself as regarding, that same 
 fact in such its true light, is on no better foundation considered 
 and treated as being either mendacious, or perverse and obsti- 
 nate : perverse and obstinate, if he fails of regarding it in that 
 light — mendacious, if, it being impossible to him to fail of re- 
 garding it in that light, he speaks of himself as if he did not. 
 
 When a man is himself persuaded — or though he does but, 
 imder the impulse of some interest by which he is actuated, ap- 
 pear to be, or profess to be, persuaded — of the existence of a fact, 
 — it is matter of pain and vexation to him to suppose that this 
 same persuasion fails of being entertained, still more to observe 
 that it is professed not to be entertained, by those with whom, 
 on the occasion of it, he has to deal. 
 
 Hence it is that, in his mind and in his discourse, to entertain 
 it is made matter of merit — to fail to entertain it, matter of de- 
 merit and blame, on the part of others with whom he has to do : 
 and, to cause them to pursue that supposed meritorious line of 
 conduct, the power of reward, if within his reach is employed ; 
 and to deter them from the opposite conduct, even the power of 
 punishment : of both which powers, in the application thus made 
 of them, mankind have been unhappily accustomed to see and to 
 feel the exercise, carried to a pitch so repugnant to the dictates 
 of humanity and reason. — 78-79. 
 
 IMPOSSIBILITIES DISTINGUISHED FROM VERBAL 
 CONTRADICTIONS. 
 
 In a loose and popular sense, nothing can be more frequent 
 than the use of the word irnpossiblcandits conjugate impossiU- 
 
264 IMPOSSIBILITIES AND VERBAL CONTRADICTIONS. 
 
 Uty: frequent, and (such is the exigency of language,) we may- 
 venture to say necessary. But, if applied to the subject of judi- 
 cial evidence to express an idea distinct from, and (if one may 
 so say) superior to, that of improbability — a high degree of impro- 
 bability, — it then becomes productive of the confusion above 
 spoken of. 
 
 The impropriety of introducing the word in this strict sense, 
 on a judicial occasion, (not to speak of other occasions,) may be 
 rendered apparent by this consideration, viz. that in the use of it 
 in this sense is involved the assumption of omniscience and infalli- 
 bility on the part of him who uses it. 
 
 Examples lending an apparent countenance to the use of it in 
 4:his strict sense, may, I am aware, not be altogether wanting : 
 but, upon a closer inspection, it will appear, that the objects in 
 question either do not come at all under the notion of facts, or at 
 any rate not under the notion of such facts as are capable of being 
 made the subject of evidence. 
 
 Take the following examples : — 
 
 1. It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be.' 
 The negative or opposite of this, it may be said, is a fact, the in- 
 credibility of which will be recognised by every body. And so 
 with the two following : — 
 
 2. Where there is no property, there is no injustice. 
 
 3. Two and two make four. 
 
 Answer. — In the first case, no fad, properly speaking, is con- 
 cerned. In that case we have a proposition ; but it has not any 
 fact for the subject of it. Examined closely, it will be found to 
 be no more than a proposition concerning the signification of 
 words. So vague and so inapplicable to any useful purpose is 
 the import it conveys, that it is difficult to say what it does 
 amount to : perhaps an observation relative to the use of the 
 word not ; showing an occasion on which it cannot with proprie- 
 ty be employed. 
 
 No fact at all being indicated by the proposition in question, 
 no fact is indicated by it capable of forming a subject of contro- 
 versy in a court of justice. 
 
 2. The second supposed example is brought to view on ac- 
 count of the deserved celebrity of the author,* and as an instance 
 to show how idle and nugatory may be the language of the 
 acutest mind, when dealing with propositions of an extensive 
 import, without having as yet scrutinized into their contents, 
 and applied them to particulars. 
 
 * Locke. 
 
IMPR0BAB11.ITV AND IMPOSSIBILITY. 265 
 
 Howsoever it may be with the preceding proposition, this one 
 may readily be seen to be neither more nor less than a proposi- 
 tion concerning the import of words. Where you cannot, in 
 the way in question, employ the word pnperly, neither can 
 you, in the way in question, employ the word injustice. 
 
 3. That the proposition, two and two make four, is neither 
 more nor less than a proposition concerning the importof words, 
 seems evident enough, as soon as intimated. To these same ap- 
 ples to which, when taken together, I apply the numeral word 
 four, — to these same bodies, when divided into two parcels equal 
 in number, I apply respectively the numeral words two and two; 
 and in both cases with equal propriety, and conformity to the 
 usage of language. In this, then, we have another instance of a 
 proposition not enunciative of any fact — of any fact having for 
 its subject-matter any thing other than the occasion on which 
 the words in question have been wont, in the language in ques- 
 tion, to be employed. 
 
 In this example, then, we do not see any exception to the gene- 
 ral proposition in question; viz. the proposition, that, of facts li- 
 able to be the subject of judicial controversy, there is no assign- 
 able one which all men would be sure to be agreed in speaking 
 of as incredible: — and this for the three following reasons: — 
 
 1. The proposition in question— two and two make four — is 
 not, properly speaking, the enunciation of a matter of fact, — only 
 
 . of a manner of employing words. 
 
 2. If that, which it is an enunciation of, were, properly speak- 
 ing, a matter of fact, it would not be of the number of those 
 facts which are liable to be the subject of judicial controversy 
 or exhibition. 
 
 3. Although it were a fact, and liable to be the subject of ju- 
 dicial controversy or exhibition, there would be no assurance 
 that all men would be agreed in speaking of the existence of it 
 as certain, or the negation of it as incredible. — vii. 80-81. 
 
 MORAL AND PHYSICAL IMPROBABILITY AND 
 IMPOSSIBILITY. 
 
 Improbability or impossibility, is either physical, that is natu- 
 ral, or moral. A fact may be said to be physically improbable, 
 when it is considered as being inconsistent with the established 
 and known order of things — with any of those rules and propo- 
 sitions which have been deduced from the general observation of 
 23 
 
266 
 
 IMPROBABILITY AND IMPOSSIBILITY. 
 
 mankind, and are termed laws of nature: such as, for instance, 
 that which asserts as a known matter of fact, the weight or 
 gravity of all the bodies that we see in, upon, or near to this 
 earth; that property, whereby, if a man jump up from the sur- 
 face of the earth, he feels himself drawn down again. 
 
 A fact is said to be morally improbable, when it is considered 
 as being inconsistent with the known course of human conduct. 
 This species of improbability is confined to such facts as have 
 their place in the human mind: such as the entertaining of such 
 and such perceptions, conceptions, intentions, wishes; the being 
 animated by such and such motives, under the existing circum- 
 stances of the case. 
 
 The degree of distrust produced in the mind of a judge by the 
 improbability of the alleged fact, when that improbability is of 
 the physical kind, as above, will depend upon the confidence he 
 has in his own knowledge respecting the powers and order of 
 nature so far as the particular fact in question is concerned. If 
 he have any doubt, he will do well to have recourse to scientific 
 evidence — to call in the opinion of such persons as, by their pro- 
 fe'ssional situation or reputation, are pointed out to him as being 
 particularly well informed in relation to matters of that sort. 
 
 Thus suppose, upon the testimony of two witnesses, a demand 
 made upon a man for money in satisfaction for damage done to a 
 garden by the fall of the first inhabited air-balloon that ever rose: 
 and from reflection on the weight of bodies, suppose the judge 
 to have been inclined to disbelieve the testimony, on the ground 
 of the apparent improbability of the fact. In such case, he would 
 have done well to call in the opinion of some lecturer or lec- 
 turers on natural philosophy; and accordingly, supposing him 
 so to have done, he would have learned from them that there 
 was really no inconsistency between what he had always ob- 
 served and heard concerning the heaviness of bodies in general, 
 and what the witnesses had been deposing concerning the ex- 
 traordinary lightness of the particular body so raised. 
 
 Concerning moral improbability, as above described, every 
 man acting in the situation of a judge will naturally consider 
 himself as competent to pronounce. A man on these occasions 
 looks into his own mind, and asks, as it were of himself, whe- 
 ther it be probable or possible, that in the circumstances in which 
 the person in question is stated by the evidence as entertaining 
 such and such perceptions, conceptions, intentions, wishes, 
 and the like, it could have happened in such circumstances to 
 himself to have entertained any such perceptions, conceptions, 
 intentions, wishes, and the like. — vi. 153. 
 
BELIEF IN THE SUPERNATURAL. 267 
 
 BELIEF IN THE SUPERNATURAL. 
 
 Take one of the vulgar cases of witchcraft, — at present in 
 civilized countries a ludicrous one — in most Christian countries 
 not very long ago, in some parts of some such countries perhaps 
 even now, but too serious a one. An old man, or (to take the 
 more common case) an old woman, travelling, at pleasure, with 
 prodigious velocity, and in every direction, through the air, with- 
 out any assistance at all for the journey, or none better than 
 what may be supposed to be afforded by a broomstick: — Do you 
 believe it? No. Why? Because it is impossible: it is a fact 
 in itself impossible. Are you in your senses.7 you will say so 
 too. Would you have us go out of the subject, call in other 
 facts, and attempt to reason about it? The very attempt to rea- 
 son would be an irrational one. 
 
 The firmness of my persuasion on the subject .can hardly be 
 exceeded by any that could be entertained by a person, who, 
 speaking of it, should employ such language as is above. But as 
 to the source of that, persuasion, upon exan;iining it, I do not 
 find it quite so simple. Were a fact of the description in ques- 
 tion to be reported to me, I should regard it as not true. For 
 what reasons? Because (not to look out for any mere repug- 
 nances) it stands in contradiction, for example, in two physical • 
 laws. One is, that no body ever changes its place without some 
 specific cause of motion: another is, that, even when exposed to 
 the action of any such specific cause of motion, no body suffers 
 any such change of place, unless the force of such specific cause 
 ■be in tt degree sufficient to overcome the impediment opposed 
 by the attraction of gravity. 
 
 Such are the two laws in question: but, in alleging (as I do 
 for shortness) the existence of these two ideal, and as they might 
 be termed verbal, laws, what is it that I allege in substance? In 
 truth nothing more, in either case, than an assemblage (though 
 that an immensely multitudinous one) of facts agreeing with each 
 other in a certain point of view — with which facts the extraordi- 
 nary phenomenon in question is seen to be unconformable. All 
 bodies that I know any thing of, tend towards the centre of the 
 earth. By what consideration is it, that I am led to form a pro,- 
 position so general and exclusive? By these which follow. 
 Every motion I make or experience, evgry minute of time I sit 
 or. stand without any considerable motion, every motion I feel or 
 see on the part of other bodies, concurs in giving me a confirma- 
 
268 BELIEF IN THE SUPERNATURAL. 
 
 tion of the truth of it, so far as depends upon the evidence of my 
 own senses. Do I apply for farther information to the presumed 
 experience and observation — to the actual relation and declara- 
 tion, of other individuals, my fellow-creatures? — the information 
 runs constantly, and without any the least exception, in the same 
 strain. Oral evidence and written evidence — men and books — 
 books touching on this particular subject directly and professedly 
 — books touching on it incidentally and collaterally,— all concur 
 in giving evidence on the same side. All this body of informa- 
 tion, all this immense and continually accumulating body of in- 
 formation, may at any time, so far as it were worth while to 
 pursue the thread of analysis, be resolved into so many distinct 
 articles of evidence, ranged under the heads of distinction already 
 exhibited in this work. 
 
 After all, what does it amount to? Not any direct evidence 
 disaffirming the existence of the supposed magic journey. What 
 then? So many articles of circumstantial evidence: neither more 
 nor less. But this circumstantial evidence, this supposed disaf- 
 firming evidence (it may again be asked,) — how does it disprove 
 the truth of the supposed affirmative evidence? In no other in- 
 dividual instance was motion ever produced without a distinct 
 assignable cause, referable to some one or other of the enume- 
 rated heads — in no other individual instance was the force of 
 gravity ever overcome by a force less considerable than its own: 
 to come to the point at once, in no other individual instance was 
 an old woman ever carried through the air,. either without any 
 assisting instrument, or with an instrument of no greater degree 
 of appropriate efficacy than a broomstick, by the exertions 
 either of her own volition, or by the exertions of the volition of 
 any other being, (such, for example, as a devil,) applying itself 
 to her bodily faculties for that purpose. 
 
 But, from the non-existence of any such extraordinarily pro- 
 duced motions in those instances, numerous as they are, how 
 does it follow that no such motions have been produced in this 
 instance? In none of those instances has there been any direct 
 evidence affirming the existence of such extraordinarily produced 
 motions. But in this instance such affirmative evidence does 
 exist. Continue then to disbelieve the existence of such ex- 
 traordinarily produced motions in those several instances; but 
 think not, from their non-existence in those instances, to prove 
 their non-existence, much less their impossibility, in this. 
 Think not that, because their existence is not to be believed 
 without evidence, therefore their existence can be reasonably dis- 
 believed against evidence. 
 
BELIEF IN THE SOPBRNATURAL. 269 
 
 I should not expect to find in the person of any reader of these 
 pages, an individual in whose mind a persuasion of the existence 
 of any such aerial journey would, by the above train of reason- 
 ing, be produced. On the other hand, neither do I see how it 
 is possible to contest the truth of it, so far as concerns the posi- 
 tion it rests upon, — to wit, that all the argument that is adduced, 
 or can be adduced, in disproof of such supposed fact, amounts 
 to no more than this observation, viz. the want of consistency, 
 conformity, agreement, analogy, (take what word we will, it 
 makes no difference,) between this extraordinary supposed fact, 
 and the ordinary facts above brought to view, of the truth of 
 which we have been sufficiently persuaded by direct evidence. 
 Yet upon no stronger or other ground than this disconformity, 
 we scruple not to disbelieve such extraordinary facts; and that 
 with so firm a degree of persuasion, as without difficulty, and 
 almost without thought, to pronounce them to be impossible. 
 
 So far, so good: but this propensity in our minds, does it 
 alter, does it influence in any respect, the nature of the facts 
 themselves? By disbelieving the existence, past, present, or 
 future, of any fact whatsoever, is it in our power to destroy, to 
 annihilate, its existence? to cause a fact never to have existed, 
 for example, that in truth has existed? Unquestionably not. 
 Most certainly, not any influence on the existence of the facts 
 themselves can be exercised by the opinion such beings as we 
 entertain of their existence. Yet, after all, when we come to 
 inquire what is the nature of the eflects which any such discon- 
 formity (or rather our observation of the existence of such dis- 
 conformity, which is all we have of it,) is capable of producing, — 
 the answer is, a disposition on our part to disbelieve the exis- 
 tence of the supposed extraordinary fact: a tendency in our own 
 minds, not any tendency in the facts themselves. 
 
 Thus much indeed may be added, viz. that so often as a man 
 in his proceedings assumes the falsity of such facts, so often will 
 he, in that respect, act rationally, and find his conclusions war- 
 ranted by experience: so often as he assumes the truth of them, 
 and acts upon that foundation, so often will he find himself de- 
 ceived — completely and deplorably deceived. This argument, 
 after all, will, upon a strict scrutiny, appear to amount to no- 
 thing: to be in appearance perhaps a distinct and additional 
 argument, but. in truth, so much of it as is true, no more than 
 the same represented over again in another point of view. As to 
 every thing that is to come — as to all supposed future results — it 
 is mere surmise, mere opinion, without facts, without evidence; 
 
 23* 
 
270 BELIEF IN THE BCPBRNATCRAL. 
 
 a mere assumption of the matter in dispute. As to all past -re- 
 sults, it amounts to no more than the already alleged and ad- 
 mitted disconformity, served up only in another shape> 
 
 What, then, is the true reply to the argument in question, 
 supposing it adduced by a believer in witchcraft — adduced for 
 the purpose of weakening our confidence in the proof afforded, 
 by the disconformity in question, of the non-existence of that 
 practice? It is this; — viz. that whatever argument is capable of 
 being brought forward for the purpose of weakening our confi- 
 dence in the argument indicative of the non-existence of that 
 practice, applies in like manner, but with much greater force, 
 to every argument that can be brought forward in favour of its 
 existence. The travelling of old women, with or withoutbroom- 
 sticks, through the air, is that sort of event which even you who 
 afiirm the existence of it in this or that particular instance, admit 
 not to be a common one. But the existence of persons who, by 
 any one of a great variety of motives, are impelled, and eventually 
 compelled, to exhibit relations of facts, ordinary as well as ex- 
 traordinary, which, on examination, prove not to be true, is a 
 fact unhappily but too often verified. The action of old women 
 in the character of witches, is a fact which, according to your 
 own statement, has happened but now and then, at this or that 
 particular time and place; but the action of men and women, 
 old and young, with brooms and without, in the character of 
 liars, is that sort of event which has been happening at all times 
 and in all places of which we have any account. This is so 
 true, that a wager (for though a wager is no direct proof of any 
 fact which is the subject of it, it is, however, a proof of the real 
 confidence of him who joins in it, and a punishment for rash 
 confidence on the part of him who loses it,) in the character of 
 an argument ad hominem at least, a wager on this subject might 
 be brought forward, not altogether without congruity. Show 
 witches on your part, while I on my part show liars, for the 
 space of a term in Westminster Hall, at so many guineas a-head, 
 and see whose puree will be fullest at the end of it. 
 
 When I have to choose between believing a common, and be- 
 lieving an uncommon, event, I believe the former, in preference 
 to the latter. Why? Because, in the very words which I make 
 use of, it is implied, that the event called common has hitherto 
 been of more frequent occurrence than the eventxalled uncom- 
 mon: and to suppose that, having been hitherto more frequent, 
 it will continue to be so, is only to believe, what all experience 
 testifies, that the course of nature is uniform. 
 
EVIDENCE OP THE SUPERNATURAL. 271 
 
 The conclusion seems to be, that, in support of a persuasion 
 of the impossibility of any fact, the best and utmost proof 
 which the nature of the case admits of, is the indication of its 
 disconformity with some class of facts indicated by those pro- 
 positions which, for the convenience of discourse, have been 
 received under the appellation of laws of nature: and that such 
 proof, so given, of such disconformity, may, with propriety, be 
 referred to the head of circumstantial evidence. 
 
 Certainty, absolute certainty, is a satisfaction which on every 
 ground of inquiry we are continually grasping at, but which the 
 inexorable nature of things has placed for ever out of our reach. 
 Practical certainty, a degree of assurance sufficient for prac- 
 tice, is a blessing, the attainment of which, as often as it lies in 
 our way to attain it, may be sufficient to console us under the 
 want of any such superfluous and unattainable acquisitions. — vii. 
 103-104. 
 
 IMPERFECTION OF THE EVIDENCE IN SUPPORT 
 OF SUPERNATURAL APPEARANCES. 
 
 I. No fact of this class was ever established by that sort of 
 evidence which, under the best system of procedure in respect 
 to evidence, is considered as the best evidence, extracted in the 
 best manner; and which, though termed the best sort, is not to 
 be considered as an extraordinary sort, but the sort which is or- 
 dinarily required and obtained in ordinary cases. 
 
 II. Accordingly, anti-physical facts are seldom represented 
 any where — never in the face of justice — as having manifested 
 themselves in the presence of divers persons at the same time. 
 
 In the instance of ghosts and apparitions, this has already 
 been matter of general observation. Why so? 
 
 1. A persuasion of this sort has in many instances been sin- 
 cere — the consequence of delusion. In the instance of a cele- 
 brated author of Berlin,* to whom we are indebted for a most 
 curious and instructive account of his own case, the appearance 
 was the result of bodily indisposition; and the unreality of the 
 existence of a correspondent external object known by the pa- 
 tient at the time. The apparition appears not to two persons 
 at once. Why? Because two persons are not subject to the 
 
 » Nicolai, in Tilloch's Philosophical Magazine, and Hibbert's Philosc. 
 pby of Apparitions. 
 
272 THE CREDULITY OP IGNORANCE. 
 
 same indisposition, bodily or mental, manifesting itself in the 
 same manner, at the same time. 
 
 3. Where the reported perception has not had delusion, but 
 self'Conscious mendacity, for its cause, it has never happened 
 that two persons have concurred in the utterance of such re- 
 port, on any judicial, or solemn — though extra-judicial, occa- 
 sion. Why? Because of the extreme and manifest difficulty of 
 carrying through any such plan of imposition with success. 
 Subjected to examination, they could not hope to escape con- 
 tradicting themselves, as well as one another. Accordingly, 
 when a man embarks jn a plan of this kind, he chooses the com- 
 pany and the occasion, atjd takes care not to expose his tale to 
 coptradiction, designed or undesigned, from a confederate. 
 
 III. The anti-physical facts thus reported are never of the 
 permanent, but always of the evanescent, kind. 
 
 Why? Because, were they of the permanent kind, the pro- 
 duction of the object constituting the material source of the real 
 evidence would of course be called for: nor could credence be 
 expected, unless it were produced. This case, when looked 
 nearly into, is found resolvable into the preceding one. Why? 
 Because, supposing the source of evidence produced, and the 
 evidence extracted from it, under the eye of the judge, the anti- 
 physical ^act manifests itself in the presence of divers persons 
 at once. 
 
 If, it) any instance, the exhibition of the anti-physical fact 
 in the presence of divers persons has been undertaken or at- 
 tempted, it l^as been in the way of legerdemain and imposture. 
 What, then, is legerdemain? It is the apparent violation of some 
 law or laws of nature; the circumstancps which, if known, 
 would show that no such violation existed, being concealed. 
 
 Upon this view of the matter, it should seem that those who 
 maintain,, in the character of a universal proposition, the non- 
 existence of such physical facts as above described, may safely 
 and even consistently admit their existence, in the event of their 
 being deposed to by a considerable number of unexceptionable 
 witnesses, some or all of them of good character, their testimony 
 being extracted by a judicial examination, conducted with com- 
 petent ability, in the best mode. — vii. 105-106. 
 
 THE CREDULITY OF IGNORANCE. 
 
 By the relative credibility or incredibility of a fact, I under- 
 stand the chance it has of being believed or disbelieved by a 
 given person. 
 
 The relative incredibility, as regards a particular person, of an 
 
THE CREDULITY OF IGNORANCE. 273 
 
 anti-physical fact — a fact amounting to a violation of a law of na- 
 ture — will be in proportion to his acquaintance with the laws of 
 nature. Suppose a person altogether unacquainted with the laws 
 of nature, yet not altogether unaccustomed to hold converse with 
 mankind; he would, upon the credit of a bare assertion, uttered 
 by any person of his acquaintance, give credit to one fact as 
 readily as to another ; to the most flagrantly anti-physical fact, as 
 well as to the most common fact ; to a fact the most devious and 
 extraordinary in degree or species, as well as to the most ordi- 
 nary fact ; to the existence of a ghost or a devil, as well as to 
 that of a man ; ^o the existence of a man sixty feet, or no more 
 than six inches high, as well as to that of a man of six feet ; to 
 the existence of a nation of Cyclops, with but one eye each, and 
 that in the middle of the forehead, as well as to the existence of a 
 nation with two eyes in their ordinary place. 
 
 In this respect, all nations as well as all men are children for 
 a time. Among savages, not to speak of barbarians, the mental 
 state cannot be regarded but as a state to which this supposition 
 is in a great degree applicable. 
 
 What is there that would not be believed in a nation in which 
 it was generally understood — so generally as to be a position 
 acted upon by law, that guilt or innocence, mendacity or veracity, 
 was to be determined by a man's walldng blindfold hurt or un- 
 hurt in a maze of red-hot ploughshares'! 
 
 Of a given apparently anti -physical fact, the' relative incredi- 
 bility will be apt to increase, not only with a man's acquaintance 
 with the laws of nature, but with his acquaintance with the his- 
 tory — the correspondent part of the history, of the human mind ; 
 with the observations he has had occasion to make of the extreme 
 frequency of incorrectness and mendacity among mankind, or 
 rather of the extreme rarity of the opposite phenomena ; of the ex- 
 treme frequency of the instances in which either the one or the 
 other has been reduced to certainty, sometimes by irreconcilable 
 contradictions, as between divers reports of the same transac- 
 tion — sometimes by self-contradiction on the part of each. 
 ***** ***** 
 
 Suppose a Turk, of the ordinary class of Turks in point of 
 education, to have been told of the elevation of a number of per- 
 sons in the air, and of the aerial voyage performed by them ; and 
 this by a bare statement of the fact so far as above described, and 
 without any indication given of the cause by which the elevation 
 was produced. Probably enough, neither disbelief, nor so much 
 as any considerable surprise, would in his mind have been the 
 result. To this disposition to give credence to this, or any other 
 
274 FOUNDATION OF BELIEF IN TESTIMONY. 
 
 fact of the extraordinary class, no great addition could probably 
 remain to be made by ocular demonstration. Whatever fact of 
 this description could be related to him, would be rendered suffi- 
 ciently credible by a word, whatever it be, of which in English 
 the words magic or sorcery serve for representatives. By the 
 Turks, Christians are considered either as being in general magi- 
 cians, workers of wonders, or, at least, as abounding in magicians : 
 and by magic, one thing may be done as well as another. The 
 contents of the machine by which this wonder was achieved, were 
 in fact composed of rarefied air : — had this account of It been 
 given to him, would he have credited it 1 Not unlikely ; and so 
 would he, as likely, had they been represented to him as composed 
 of lead. To a people to whom the face of nature is not visible 
 through any other medium than that of the Koran, one fact is 
 not more uncomfortnable to the course of nature than another. 
 
 When an air-balloon, on the hydrogen-gas principle, performed 
 for the first time, at St. Petersburg, an aerial vayage, — certain Ja- 
 panese, who having been shipwrecked somewhere in Kamschat- 
 ka, had from thence been conveyed to Petersburg, were of the 
 number of the spectators. All the rest were wrapped up in 
 amazement : the Japanese alone remained unaffected. A Russian 
 noticing their unconcern, and asking for the cause of it,— " Oh!" 
 said a Japanese, " this is nothing but magic ; and in Japan we 
 have practitioners in magic in abundance." — vii. 91-94. 
 
 FOUNDATION OF BELIEF IN TESTIMONY. 
 
 Ask what is the foundation or cause of belief? — c^ persuasion 1 
 I answer, without difficulty, experience. Ask what is the foun- 
 dation, the cause of the belief in the truth of human testimony ? 
 — of the persuasion entertained by one man of the truth of the 
 statepients contained in the testimony of another, in any given 
 instance 1 I answer again, the experience of the truth of testis 
 mony in former instances. Discard the substantive word cause, 
 and give me, instead of it, the import of it in disguise — disguised 
 under the adverbial covering of the word why ;* and ask me why 
 
 * Of the single .word, — the adverb, as it is called, — the verb why, the 
 import, when developed, is found to be an entire proposition, and even a 
 complex one. My willis, that you name to me that thing which is the cause 
 of that ether thing. So great was the error of the ingenious author of 
 Hermes, when in his analytical view of the grammatical forms called parts 
 of speech, he attributed to tlie object represented by the adverb, the same 
 simplicity as to the object represented by the noun substantive. Here, by 
 the single adverb, we find represented, amongst others, the several objects 
 respectively represented by no fewer than six nouns substantive. 
 
FOUNDATION OP BELIEF IN TESTIMONY. 275 
 
 I find myself disposed, in most cases, to believe in the truth of 
 the statements made in my hearing by my fellow-men ■! I answer, 
 — because, in the greater part of the instances in which such 
 statements have been made, the truth of them has been made 
 known to me by experience. In the experience I have had of 
 the truth of the like statements in past instances, I view the cause 
 of the propensity I find in myself to believe the truth of the state- 
 ment in question in the present instance — to pronounce, in my 
 own mind, the sort of judgment indicated by the words I believe. 
 
 Press me further, and ask me" why it is that on recollection 
 of the truth of such statementsin former instances, as certified 
 to me by experience, I believe 1 — ask me why it is that such ex- 
 perience produces belief; what is that ulterior and deeper or 
 higher cause, that causes experience to be' the cause of belief? — 
 you ask me for that which is not mine, nor any-body's, to give ; 
 you require of me what is impossible. 
 
 It may probably enough have appeared tff you that what you 
 have been doing, in putting to me that question, amounts to no 
 more than the calling upon me for a proposition, to be delivered 
 to you on my part. But the tr'uth is, tliat, in calling upon me 
 to that eSect, you have yourselli though in an obscure and inex- 
 plicit way — you hav6 yourself, whether you are aware of it or 
 no, been delivering to me a proposition — and a proposition which, 
 if my conception of the matte!- be correct, is not conformable to 
 the truth of things. The proposition I mean is, that over and 
 above, and distinct from, those objects' which you have in view, 
 in speaking of the words experience and hi lief, of which the first 
 represents the cause, and the other the effect, — there exists a 
 distinct object, in the: character of an ulterior and higher cause, 
 which is the cause of the causative power exercised by that first- 
 mentioned cause : such is the proposition which is comprehended 
 and assumed in and by your interrogative proposition beginning 
 with the word why; but, to' my judgment of the matter, this in- 
 directly-advanced proposition presents itself as erroneous. For, 
 upon looking for such supposed distinct object, as the archetype 
 of, and thing represented by, the word cause, as now, on the oc- 
 casion of this second question, employed by you, it does not ap- 
 pear to me that any such object exists in nature. If ever it 
 should happen to you to have discovered any such archetype, 
 do me the favour to point it out to me, that I may look at it and 
 examine it. Till you have done so, it will not be in my power 
 to avoid considering as erroneous the proposition which you 
 have been delivering to me in disguise. 
 
276 
 
 FOUNDATION OF BELIEF IN TESTIMONY. 
 
 What I have been able to see in the matter is as follows, viz. — 
 
 1. Certain facts, viz. of the physical kind (for such alone, to 
 simplify the case, let us take) — the facts presented to me by ex- 
 perience. 
 
 2. Another fact, viz. of the psychological kind, the sort of in- 
 ternal feeling produced in my mind, and designated by the word 
 belief. Both these are really existing objects : my feeling-^ray 
 belief, an object possessing at any rate whatever reality can be 
 possessed by an object of the psychological kind, — and those 
 physical objects, by which it seems to me that it has been pro- 
 duced, or at any rate in consequence of which it has made its ap- 
 pearance on my mind. The aggregate of all those physical facts 
 is what, on this occasion, I look upon as the cause : the feeling 
 produced in my mind— the belief is what I look upon as the 
 ej'ect. 
 
 What higher, what deeper, what intermediate — in a word, 
 what other cause, would you havel What can it be ? — what 
 should it be 1 If, which is possible, your request were to be 
 complied with, what would you be the better for it 1 Would 
 you be any the wiser for it, the richer 1 or even the more con- 
 tented 1 Alas ! no : no sooner had you got this higher cause, 
 than you would be returning again to the charge, and asking 
 for one still higher ; and so on again without end. For, by the 
 same reason (if there were one) by which you were justified in 
 calling upon me for this first arbitrarily assumed and phantasti- 
 cally created cause, you will be justified in calling upon me, and, 
 indeed, bound to call upon me, for another; and so another and 
 another without end. 
 
 By pressing me still further — between the set of physical ob- 
 jects, the aggregate of which is spoken of as constituting the 
 cause, and the psychological object (,my belief) spoken of under 
 the name of the e^ect, — you may, if you insist upon it, oblige me 
 to interpolate a number — almost any number, of intermediate 
 causes. But among these intermediate causes, be they multiplied 
 ad infimtum,yo\\ will never find that recondite, that higher-seated 
 or deeper-seated cause which you are in quest of From the ma- 
 terial physical objects in question, came the appearances, evanes- 
 cent or permanent, issuing from those material objects ; from 
 those appearances, presenting themselves through the medium of 
 sense to the minds of the several percipient witnesses in question, 
 came the feelings of the nature of belief, in the minds of those se- 
 veral witnesses : in the minds again of those witnesses, by the 
 agency of this or that motive, were produced the exertions by 
 
FOUNDATIOZi OF BELIEF IN TESTIMONY. 277 
 
 which the discourses assertive of the existence of those several 
 objects were conveyed to me : by those assertions, thus con- 
 veyed to my mind, was produced, on each occasion, in the in- 
 terior of my mind, a correspondent feeling of belief: by the re- 
 collection, more or less distinct and particular, or rather by an 
 extremely rapid, and consequently indistinct and general recol- 
 lection of the aggregate of those feelings, or rather of an ex- 
 tremely minute part of them (for in one extremely minute part 
 is contained all that is possible, and yet quite as much as is suffi- 
 cient) was produced the belief which my mind entertains at 
 present, affirmative of the existence of the facts contained in the 
 particular statement delivered to me by the particular individual 
 whose testimony is now in question. 
 
 Such is the chain, the links of which may be multiplied almost 
 to infinity. Between every two links you may call upon me, if 
 you please, for the cause by which the latter of them is connected 
 with the former; but, in each instance, the answer, for the rea- 
 son already given, must be still the same — there is no such la- 
 tent, recondite cause. In your imagination, the picture of it 1 — 
 yes, if you say there is : in external nature, the original of it, 
 nowhere.— vi. 237-238. 
 
 It is in children (it is said) that the reliance on testimony is 
 strongest — strongest in man at that time of life when he has had 
 least experience. Such is the argument, on the strength of 
 which it is concluded that man's reliance on man's testimony 
 has not experience for its ground — experience of the conformity 
 of that testimony to the truth of things ; but is produced by an 
 independent innate principle, made on purpose, and acting be- 
 fore experience. Before any experience has taken place, this con- 
 fidence is at its maximum: as man advances in life, it grows weak- 
 er and weaker ; and the cause that renders it so, is experience. 
 
 A child's reliance on testimony, on the truth of human asser- 
 tion, antecedent to experience ! As if assertions, and experience 
 of the truth of them, were not coeval in his perceptions with the 
 very first instances of the use of language ! 
 
 Banish the phantom, the offspring of distressed imposture, the 
 innate principle ; consult experience, man's faithful and steady 
 guide ; and behold on how simple a ground the case stands. In 
 children, at an early age, the reliance on assertion is strongest : 
 why 1 — Because at that age experience is all, or almost all, on 
 one side. As age advances, tiiat reliance grows weaker and 
 weaker : why 1 — Because experience is acquired on both sides 
 24 
 
278 TRUTH MORE NATURAL TO MANKIND THAN PALSEHOOD. 
 
 ' — experience certifying the existence of falsehood as well as that 
 of truth. The proportion of falsehood to truth commonly itself 
 a'ugments; and, though it should not itself augment, that which 
 cannot fail to augment, and of which the augmentation answers 
 the same purpose, is the habit, the occasion, and the facility of 
 observing it. 
 
 But if a ferry-boat (says an argument in the same strain) — 
 if a ferry-boat, that had crossed the river 2000 times without 
 sinking, should by a single supposed eye-witness, whose charac- 
 ter was altogether unknown, be reported to have sunk the two 
 thousand and first time: here is a highly improbable event, im- 
 probable in the ratio of 2000 to 1, believed upon the testimony 
 of this unknown, and single witness ; — believed, and who will 
 say, not rightly and rationally believed ? 
 
 An improbability of 2000 to 1? No, nor of 1 to I. Yes, 
 perhaps,— if a ferry-boat, being a thing unlike every thing else 
 in nature — or a ferry-boat, and every thing else partaking in 
 respect of submergibility of the nature of a ferry-boat — had 
 been known to cross water 2000 times, and never known once 
 to sink. But the aptitude of things in abundance — the aptitude 
 of the materials of which ferry-boats are composed, to sink in 
 water, when pressed by other bodies lying in thera, is a fact 
 composed of an immense mass of facts made known by an im- 
 mense body of experience. Boats of almost all kinds, it is 
 sufficiently known by experience, are but too apt to sink : 
 which thing being considered, — of all those who have seen 
 or heard of a ferry-boat, is there a single person to whom, 
 though the same boat should be known to have crossed the 
 water in question 10,000 times instead of 2000, the report of its 
 having sunk should present itself as in any degree improbable 1 
 
 Yes : if a boat, composed solely of cork, and that of the same 
 shape with the ferry-boat in question, except as to the being solid 
 instead of being hollow— if a boat of such description were re- 
 ported to have sunk, and without any thing drawing it down, 
 or pressing upon it, — here, indeed, would be an improbability, 
 and such an improbability, as, to the mind of a man conversant 
 with the phenomena and principles of hydrostatics, would not 
 be rendered probable or credible by the report of a thousand 
 witnesses, though they were all of them self-pretended eye- 
 witnesses. — vi. 241. 
 
 TRUTH MORE NATURAL TO MANKIND THAN 
 FALSEHOOD. 
 Children (says a proverb one sometimes hears) — children and 
 
COLLOQUIAL SOPHISMS. 379 
 
 fools tellj truth. There is something offensive in the proverb : 
 there is a sort of immoral turn in it — a sort of intimation, as 
 mischievous as it is false, of a natural connexion between vera- 
 city and folly. On the first mention of it, one conceives it to 
 have had for its author a species of knave, who, as such, is a 
 species of fool; for, though all folly is not knavery, yet there is 
 no knavery that is not folly. When the covering of immorality 
 and folly is stripped off from it, its foundation, however, appears 
 to be laid in nature. It had been observed as a matter of fact, 
 that veracity in man was more frequent than mendacity — truth 
 than falsehood; that this frequency was particularly great among 
 such classes of persons as, by the complexion of their under- 
 standings, were less sensible to the action of a distant interest — 
 such as that sort of interest commonly must be, by which, on 
 occasions of importance, such as those which come before a 
 court of justice, a man can be influenced to step aside from the 
 path of truth. By the first impulse — by the impulse of the uni- 
 versal principle above delineated — by a sort of instinctive im- 
 pulse, the line in which a man's discourse is urged is invaria- 
 bly the line of veracity — of truth: it is only by reflection — 
 reflection on the distant advantage supposed to be obtainable by 
 falsehood, that a man's footsteps can be turned aside out of that 
 line. — vi. 263. 
 
 COLLOQUIAL SOPHISMS. 
 
 Avoid all arguments that you know to be sophistical. Think 
 not, by shutting your own eyes against the weakness of your 
 statements, that you have thereby shut the eyes of your hearer. 
 Tour sophistry will but irritate, for sophistry is not only uncan- 
 did, but dishonest. It is an attempt to cheat, not the purse of 
 another, but his senses and his judgment His aversion to you 
 will be awakened by your effort to shine at his expense; and his 
 contempt will be roused for the folly that supposed it was able so 
 to shine. In all argument be candid, for the sake of your com- 
 rade and for your own sake. The triumph of an argument which 
 is known and felt to be unfair and unfounded, is a wretched ex- 
 hibition of perversity. If successful, it can serve no interests 
 but those of fraud: if unsuccessful, it brings with it the conse- 
 quences of blundering and detected dishonesty. Constituted as 
 society is, with its errors and prejudices, its narrow interests 
 and interested passions, the pursuit of truth makes demands 
 enough upon courageous virtue; for he who goes one step be- 
 yond the line which the world's poor conventions have drawn 
 
280 
 
 RELIGIOUS TESTS. 
 
 around moral and political questions, must expect to meet with 
 the thundering- anathemas and obloquies of all who wish to 
 stand well with the arbiters of opinion. Let no searcher after 
 truth be led into the labyrinths of sophistry. He will have 
 enough tp do in order to make good his ground one step beyond 
 that trodden by those who dogmatize about decorum, and pro- 
 priety, and right and wrong, — Deonlology, vol. ii. p. 145-146. 
 
 INDOLENCE A MOTIVE IN FAVOUR OF VEEAQITY, 
 
 To relate incidents as they have really happened,* is the work 
 of the memory; to relate them otherwise than as they have really 
 happened, is the work of the invention. But, generally speak- 
 ing, comparing the work of the memory with that of the inven- 
 tion, the latter will be found by much the harder work. The 
 ideas presented by the memory present themselves in the first 
 instance, and, as it were, of their own accord: the ideas pre- 
 sented by the invention, by the imagination, do not present 
 themselves without labour and exertion. In the first instance 
 come the true facts presented by the memory, which facts must 
 be put aside: they are constantly presenting themselves, and as 
 constantly must the door be shut against them. The false facts, 
 for which the imagination is drawn upon, are not to be got at 
 without effort: not only so, but if, in the search made after them, 
 any at all present themselves, different ones will pre-i^ent them-- 
 selves for the same place: to the labouV of investigation is thus 
 added the labour of .'selection. 
 
 Hence an axiom of mental patholbgy, applicable to the pre- 
 sent case — an axiom expressive of a matter of fact, which may 
 be stated as the primary and fundamental cause of veracity in 
 man. The work of the memory is, in general, easier than that 
 of the invention; but to consult the memory alone in the state- 
 ment given, is veracity: mendacity is the quality displayed, so 
 far as the invention is employed. — vi. 262. 
 
 RELIGIOUS TESTS. 
 
 Applied to the tenets of any religion, or of any of the various 
 editions of any religion, it [a test] includes in it a certificate of 
 
 • I mean as In the narrator they have really appeared to happen. With 
 this explanatinn, the expression, as they have really.happened, may be 
 used, instead of the more correct expression, to save words. 
 
SUBSCRIPTION AT THE DNIVERSITIES, "^ 281 
 
 the erroneousness and falsity of such tenets. Not that, by this 
 or any other human contrivance, a religion that is true can itself 
 be rendered false: not that, by this or any other contrivance, a 
 set of facts, that have actually had place, can be made not to 
 have had place. What it is not, is therefore a proof of the falsity 
 of any religion to which it is applied: but what it is, is a proof — 
 nor needs there a more conclusive one — of a want of belief in 
 affirmance of such religion, in the breast of those who concur in 
 the application of it. 
 
 What!— if these notions, or pretended notions, of yours con- 
 cerning your religion, be conformable to truth, — if it be the plea- 
 sure of the Almighty that the alleged facts on which it rests 
 shall obtain credence, — is it not in the power of the Almighty, 
 without your assistance, to obtain credence for it? You, who- 
 ever you are, is it that in yourself you have a power which has 
 been denied to God? But for such assistance as it may please 
 you to give, is the Almighty impotent? — v. 209. 
 
 SUBSCRIPTION AT THE ENGLISH UNIVERSITIES. 
 
 Of the two English universities, Oxford is the most ancient 
 and most dignified. Of its numerous statutes, which are penned 
 in Latin, as many as fill a moderate duodecimo volume are pub- 
 lished, as the title-page declares, for the use of youth: and of 
 these care is taken (for the honour of the government let it be 
 spoken) that those for whose observance they are designed, shall 
 not, without their own default, be ignorant: since, at every man's 
 admission, a copy is put into his hands. All these statutes — as 
 well those that are seen as those that are not seen — every stu- 
 dent, at his admission, is sworn in Latin to observe. " So help 
 me God," says the matriculated person, " touching as I do the 
 most holy Gospel of Christ."* 
 
 The barbers, cooks, bed-makers, errand-boys, and other unlet- 
 tered retainers of the university, are sworn in English to the ob- 
 servance of these Latin statutes. The oath thus solemnly taken, 
 there has not, we may be morally certain, for a course of many 
 generations^perhaps from the first era of its institution — been a 
 single person that has ever kept. Now, though customary, it is, 
 
 • "Tu fidem dabis a*] observanduni omnia statuta, privilcgia, et con- 
 suetudines hujus universitatis Oxun. Ila te Deua adjuvet, tantis Racrn. 
 . Sanctis ,Christi cvangeliie." — Parecbolte siee Excerptii e Corpore Statulo- 
 rum, p. 250, Oxon. 1756. 
 
 24* 
 
£82 
 
 SUBSCRIPTION AT THE UNIVERSITIES. 
 
 perhaps, not strictly proper, as it tends to confusion and to false 
 estimates, to apply the term perjury, without distinction, to the 
 breach of an assertive, and to that of a promissive declaration — 
 to the breach of an oath, and to that of a vow ; and to brand 
 with the. same mark of infamy a solemn averment which, at the 
 time of malcing it, was certainly false, — and a single departure 
 from a declared resolution which, at the time of declaring it, might 
 possibly have been sincere. But, if they themselves are to be 
 believed who have made the oath ; and who break it, the Uni- 
 versity of Oxford, for this century and half, has been, and, at the 
 time I am writing, is a commonwealth of perjurers.* The streets 
 of Oxford, said the first Lord Chatham, once, " are paved with 
 disaffection." That weakness is outgrown: but he might have 
 added then, (if that had been the statesman's care,) and any one 
 may add still, " and with perjury." The face of this, as of other 
 prostitutions, varies with the time : perjurers in their youth, they 
 become suborners of perjury in their old age. 
 
 It should seem that there was once a time, when the persons 
 subjected to this yoke, or some one on their behalf, began to 
 murmur : for, to quiet such murmurs, or at any rate to anticipate 
 them, a practitioner, of a faculty now extinct, but then very much 
 in vogue, — a physician of the soul, a casuist, was called in. His 
 prescription, at the end of every one of these abridged editions 
 of the statutes — his prescription under the title of Epihomis seu 
 explanalio juramenti, fyc, stands annexed. f This casuist is 
 kind enough to inform you, that though you have taken an oath 
 indeed, to observe all these statutes — and that without exception, 
 yet, in ninety-nine instances out of a hundred; it amounts to 
 pothing. What, in those instances, you are bound to do is — not 
 to keep your oath, but to take your choice whether you will do 
 that or suffer — not to do what you are bid ; but, if you happen 
 to be found out (for this proviso, I take for granted, is to be sup- 
 plied) to bear the penalty. For — what now do you think your 
 sovereign seriously wishes you to do, when he forbids you to 
 commit murder'! that you should abstain from murder at all 
 events) No, surely; but that, if you happen to be found out and 
 convicted, you should sit quiet while the halter is fitted to your 
 neck. 
 
 Who is this casuist, who by his superior power washes avray 
 
 • " Statuimus," say these reverend legislators, " idque sub pcena per. 
 jurii," in a multitude of places. 
 
 + The title at length is Epinomis, seu Explanalio Juramenti quod de 
 observandis Slatutis Unimrsitatis a singulis prtBstari solet: qualenut 
 stilicet, seu quousque obligare jurantes censendum est. 
 
SUBSCRIPTION AT THE UNIVERSITIES. 283 
 
 the guilt from perjury, and controls the judgments of the Al- 
 mighty? Is it the legislator himself? By no means: that indeed 
 might make a difference. The sanction of an oath would then 
 not with certainty be violated; it would only with certainty be 
 profaned. ' It was a Bishop Sanderson, who, in the bosom of a 
 Protestant church, before he was made a bishop, had set up a 
 kind of confessional box, whither tender consciences repaired 
 from all parts to heal their scruples. 
 
 This institution, whether it were the fruit of blindness or of 
 a sinister policy, has answered in an admirable degree, some at 
 least of the purposes for which it was probably designed. It 
 has driven the consciences of the greater part of those by whom 
 the efficient parts of government are one day to be filled, into 
 a net, of which the clergy hold the cords. The fear and shame 
 of every young man of sense, of spirit, and reflection, on whom 
 these oaths are imposed, must at one time or other take the 
 alarm. What says he to himself, am I a perjurer? If he ask 
 his own judgment, it condemns hira. What then shall he do? 
 Perjury, were it only for the shame of it, is no light matter: if 
 his education have been ever so loose, he has frequently heard 
 it condemned; if strict and virtuous, he has never heard it men- 
 tioned without abhorrence. But, when he thinks of the guilt 
 of it, hell yawns under his feet. What then shall he do? Whither 
 then shall he betake himself? He flies to his reverend instruc- 
 tors in a state of desperation. " These men are older than my- 
 self," says he; " they are more learned, they are therefore 
 wiser: on them rests the charge of my education. My own 
 judgment, indeed, condemns me; but my own judgment is weak 
 and uninformed. Why may not I trust to others? See, their 
 hands are outstretched to comfort me! Where can be the blame 
 in listening to them? in being guided by them? in short, in sur- 
 rendering my judgment into their hands? Are not they my 
 rulers, my instructors? the very persons whom my parents have 
 appointed to take charge of me, to check my presumption, and 
 to inform my ignorance? What obligation am I under, nay, 
 what liberty have I to oppose my feeble lights to theirs? Do they 
 not stand charged with the direction of my conscience? — charged 
 by whatsoever I ought to hold most sacred? Are they not the 
 ministers of God's word'? the depositaries of our holy religion? 
 the very persons, to whose guidance I vowed, in the person of 
 my godfathers and godmothers, to submit myself, under the 
 name of my spiritual pastors and masters? And are they not 
 able and willing to direct me? In all matters of conscience, theij, 
 let me lay down to myself the following as inviolable rules: — 
 
284 SUBSCRIPTION AT THE UNIVERSITIES. 
 
 not to be governed by my own reason ; not to endeavour at the 
 presumptuous and unattainable merit orconsistency ; not to con- 
 sider whetlier a thing is right or vsrrong in itself, but what they 
 think of it. " On all points, then, let me receive my religion at 
 their hands : vsfhat to them is sacred, let it to me be sacred ; what 
 to them is wickedness, let it to me be wickedness; what 
 to them is truth, let it to me be truth ; let me see as they see, be- 
 lieve as they believe, think as they think, feel as they feel, love as 
 they love, fear as they fear, hate as they hate, esteem as they 
 esteem, perform as they perform, subscribe as they subscribe, 
 and swear as they swear. With them is honour, peace, and 
 safety; without them, is ignominy, contention, and despair." 
 Such a course must every young man, who is brought up under 
 the rod of a technical religion, distinct from morality, and be- 
 strewed with doubts and dangers, take on a thousand occasions, 
 or run mad. To whom else should he resort for counsel 1 — to 
 whom else should he repair? To the companions of his own 
 age's They will laugh at him, and call him methodist : for many 
 a one who dreads even hobgoblins alone.laughs at them in com- 
 pany. To their friends and relations who are advanced in life, 
 and who live in the world 1 The answer they get from them, 
 if they are fortunate enough to get a serious one, is — that in all 
 human establishments there arc imperfections ; but that innova- 
 tion is dangerous, and reformation can only come from above ; 
 that young men are apt to be hurried away by the warmth of 
 their temper, led astray by partial views of things, of which they 
 are unable to see the whole: that these effusions of self-sufiBciency 
 are much better repressed than given way to : that what it is 
 not in our power to correct, it were better to submit to without 
 notice: that prudence commends what custom authorizes — to 
 swim quietly with the stream : that to bring matters of religion 
 upon the carpet is a ready way to excite either aversion or con- 
 tempt: that humanity forbids the raising of scruples in the breasts 
 of the weak, — good humour, the bringing up of topics that are 
 austere, — good manners, topics that are disgusting : that policy 
 forbids our offending the incurious with the display of our saga- 
 city, the ignorant with the ostentation of our knowledge, the 
 loose with the example of our integrity, and the powerful with 
 the noise of our complaints : that, with regard to the point in 
 question, oaths, like other obligations, are to be held for sacred 
 or insignificant, according to the fashion : that perjury is no dis- 
 grace, except when it happens to' be punished: and that, as a 
 general rule, it concerns every man to know and to remember, 
 
CNIVERSITY OATHS. 285 
 
 as he tenders his peace of mind and his hopes of fortune, that 
 there are institutions, wliich though mischievous are not to be 
 abolished, and though indefensible are not to be condemned. 
 
 A sort of tacit convention is established : "Give your soul up 
 kito my hands — I ensure it from perdition. Surely the terms, 
 on your part, are easy enough : exertion there needs none : all 
 that is demanded of you is — to shut your eyes, ears, lips, and to 
 sit quiet. The topic of religion is surely forbidding enough, as 
 x*ell as a forbidden topic : all that you have to do then, is to think 
 nothing about the matter ; look not into, touch not the ark of 
 the Lord, and you are safe." — ii. 260-262. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OATHS.. 
 
 Veracity is one of the most important bases of human society. 
 The due administration of justice absolutely depends upon it ; 
 ■whatever tends to weaken it, saps the foundation of morality, 
 security, and happiness. The more we reflect on its importance, 
 the more we shall be astonished that legislators have so indis- 
 creetly multiplied the operations which tend to weaken its influ- 
 ence. 
 
 , When the possession of the revenues, or other privileges at- 
 tached to a certain condition of life, depends upon the previous 
 performance of certain acts which are required at entering upon 
 that condition, these privileges cannot fail to operate upon indi- 
 viduals as incentives to the performance of those acts: the effect 
 produced is the same as if they were attached to such perform- 
 ance under the title of reward. 
 
 If, among the number of these acts, promises which are never 
 performed are required under the sanction of an oath, these pri- 
 vileges or other advantages can only be regarded as rewards 
 offered for the commission of perjury. If among the number of 
 these acts, it be required that certain opinions which are not be- 
 lieved should be pretended to be believed, these advantages are 
 neither more nor less than rewards offered for insincerity. But 
 the sanction of an oath once contemned is contemned at all times. 
 Oaths may afterwards be observed, but they will not be observed 
 because they are oaths. 
 
 In the university of Oxford, among whose members the greater 
 number of ecclesiastical benefices are bestowed, and which even 
 for laymen is the most fashionable place of education, — when a 
 young man presents himself for admission, his tutor, who is 
 generally a clergyman, and the vice-chancellor, who is also a 
 clergyman, put into his hands a book of statutes, of which they 
 
286 
 
 JUDICIAL OATHS. 
 
 cause him to swear to observe every one. At the same time, it 
 is perfectly well-known to this vice-chancellor and to this tutor, 
 that there never has been any person who was able to observe 
 all these statutes. It is thus that the first lesson this young man 
 learns, and the only lesson he is sure to learn, is a lesson of per- 
 jury. 
 
 Nor is this all : his next step is to subscribe, in testimony ot 
 his belief to a dogmatical formulary composed about two cen- 
 turies ago, asserted by the Church of England to be infallibly 
 true, and by most other churches believed to be as infallibly false. 
 By this expedient, one class of men is excludedj while three - 
 classes are admitted. The class excluded is composed of men 
 who, either from a sense of honour, or from conscientious mo- 
 tives, cannot prevail upon themselves publicly and deliberately 
 to utter a lie. The classes admitted consist — 1. Of those who 
 literally believe these dogmas; 2. Of those who disbelieve them ; 
 3. Of those who sign them as they would sign the Alcoran, 
 without knowing what they sign or what they think about it. 
 A nearly similar practice is pursued at Cambridge ; and from 
 these two sources the clergy of the Church of England are sup- 
 plied. 
 
 Socrates was accused as a corrupter of youth. What was 
 meant by this accusation, I know not. But this I know, that to 
 instruct the young in falsehood and perjury, is to corrupt them ; 
 and that the benefit of all the other lessons they can learn can 
 never equal the mischief of this instruction. — ii. 210. 
 
 Talk of custom-house oaths,* when such are the university 
 oaths ! Talk of merchants, when of such is the bench of bishops ! 
 In a custom-house, men pure from perjury must surely be to be 
 found : so at least let us hope, were it only for the credit of those 
 who, in the case of universal perjury, would be the universal 
 suborners. In a custom-house many, in the university of Oxford 
 — pure from perjury no man — for ages has been, — or, where the 
 swallowing the about-to-be-continually-violated oath continues 
 to be, amongst other breaches of sincerity, the price exacted for 
 admission, will ever be — to be found. — v. 195. 
 
 JUDICIAL OATHS. 
 
 Swfar not at all, says Jesus : at least in as far as to his biogra- 
 pher Matthew credence may in this point be ventured to be given. 
 
 * ThesG are now ubolisticd, und Declaralions substituted. — Ed, , 
 
JUDICIAL OATHS. 287" 
 
 " Swear not at all," says Jesus : and as if, unless inculcated and 
 enforced by reasons, a precept so simple should escape from re- 
 membrance, reasons are subjoined. Professing liimself a reli- 
 gionist of the religion of Jesus, — an obeyerof the ordinances of 
 Jesus, — and of all the ordinances attributed to Jesus, — not seeing 
 any ordinance more clear or precise than this, a Quaker refuses 
 to disobey it. For this refusal it is, that, between Church and 
 State, matters are so ordered, that, in a case which has afforded 
 no other witness than such as are of this persuasion. Justice — 
 criminal justice at least — is deprived of all evidence :* license 
 being thereby granted, to all such crimes as from time to time it 
 shEill happen to any man to feel himself disposed to commit 
 (other persons out of the question) upon the bodies, or in the 
 presence, of any number of Quakers. 
 
 In England this same religion has been adopted. Adopted i 
 but how 1 — Exactly with those same reservations, with which a 
 Bill is at its first introduction adopted in the House of Commons ; 
 viz. with liberty of making amendments: — amendments omissive, 
 interpolative, substitutive : — amendments of all sorts, and in all 
 cases — and in all cases to such effect, as the convenience of that 
 class of men, by whose convenience every thing is regulated, was 
 found to require. 
 
 In regard to some of its clauses, as where poverli/ or equality, 
 or »on-redtlance are ordained, the amendment made has been of 
 the omis-iive kind. In the present instance, for the purpose here 
 in question, it has been of the interpolative kind : an amendment 
 for giving admission to such oaths, as, for purposes such as those 
 above described, it should be found convenient to administer : to 
 administer, amongst other occasions on the occasion of the deli- 
 very of judicial testimony. 
 
 What is certain is— that by Jesus, any such exception is not, 
 
 by any one of his four biographers, represented as having been 
 
 made. — Not made by him ? and what then 1 It is of the number 
 
 - of those, which, though he did not make, he ought to have made. 
 
 Not so much as the profession of rendering justice being to 
 be made unless the performance of this ceremony be duly accom- 
 plished, thereupon comes more complication, more law learning, 
 more doubts, more business. 
 
 A Jew's oath, what shall it be ? Must the hat be off or on ? 
 and if on, what shall in law be deemed and taken to be a hat ? 
 and the book, what must it bel and in what language 1 
 
 • This defect has been amended by later Legislation. — Ed, 
 
288 JUDICIAL OATHS. 
 
 Jew or Christian, what is it that shall be kissed? What if, 
 instead' of the book, it be the thumb that receives the salute 1 ' 
 what if; to a book with the Song of Solomon in it, by astutia or 
 laches of the clerk, those of Rochester be found to have been sub- 
 stituted 1 With such an instrument could a man commit per- 
 jury. 
 
 In Westminster Hall, when a man takes an oath which is said 
 to be administered by a Judge or certain Judges, the Judge or 
 Judges — must they be there, or may they be not there ? — Not 
 many years ago the writer of this was sworn in this way to the 
 truth of a mass of testimony before a learned Judge, who was 
 anywhere but there. From beginning to end suppose it wilful 
 falsehood, was any of it perjury ? 
 
 The Mahometan — in his system of imposture does the cere- 
 mony find .the necessary virtue ? does it in the still more extra- 
 vagant imposture of the Hindoo I in the religion or the no-reli- 
 gion of the Chinese is that magic to be found, which in case of 
 profanation draws down, with such unerring certainty, the ever 
 obsequious vengeance of the Church-of-England God, by whom 
 all such magic stands prohibited in terms as plain as it is in the 
 power of language to provide ■! In this or that false religion sup- 
 pose this ceremony to be misperformed — in the Hindoo religion 
 for example, in which, as exquisitely turned as if it had been in 
 Westminster Hall, the whole mass of ceremonies is a widow's 
 cruise of nullities'!— v. 201-202, 
 
 The supposed punishment for the profanation, on whom is the 
 infliction of it supposed to depend "! On the Almighty 1 No ; but, 
 in the first instance at any rate, on man alone. No oath ten- 
 dered, no offence is committed, on no man punishment inflicted. 
 According to the oath-employing theory, man is the master, the 
 Almighty the servant. In respect to the treatment to be given 
 to the supposed liar, the Almighty is not left to his own choice. 
 In the event in question, at the requisition of the huQian, the 
 divine functionary is made to inflict an extra punishment. Ex- 
 actly of a piece with the authority exercised by a chief-justice of 
 the King's Bench over the sheriff of a county, is the authority 
 there, by every man who has purchased It, pretended to be exer- 
 cised over the Almighty. In Westminster-Hall procedure, the 
 chief-justice is the magisterial officer ; the sheriff of the county in 
 question a ministerial ofiicer, acting under him : a written instru- 
 ment, called a writ, the mediurti of communication, through which. 
 
JUDICIAL OATHS. 289 
 
 to the subordinate, the command of his superordinate' is signi- 
 fied. 
 
 In the case of the oath, the man by whom the oath is admi- 
 nistered performs the part of the chief-justice; the Almighty, 
 that of the sheriflf acting under him; and the kiss given to the 
 book performs the service of the writ. 
 
 Is it by a country attorney, dignified by the title of Master- 
 extraordinary in Chancery — is it by this personage that the 
 oath is administered? In this case, it is the attorney that the 
 Almighty has for his master now; and by the shilling paid to 
 the attorney — by this shilling it is, that the Almighty is hired. — 
 V. 457-458. 
 
 Take two ofienders: the one a parricide, by whose false tes- 
 timony his innocent father has been consigned to capital punish- 
 ment; the other, by whose false testimony a neighbouring house- 
 holder has been wrongfully convicted of the off"ence of laying 
 rubbish on the highway. Take the ofience in both cases on the 
 mere footing of false testimony, one sees how unequal is the 
 guilt, — and how widely different the punishment, which, con- 
 sistently with the principle of religion, cannot but he expected 
 at the hands of divine justice. Take it on the footing of per- 
 jury, the guilt is precisely the same in both cases: for in both 
 cases the ceremony is the same; and in both cases it is alike 
 violated and profaned. 
 
 Will it be said. Nay: for, after and notwithstanding this cere- 
 mony, God will govern himself by his own good pleasure, as he 
 would have done without it: though the act which the oath-taker 
 engaged himself thus to perform be unperformed, if that act be a 
 criminal one, God will not punish him for the omission of it: 
 commission, not omission, is what God punishes in crimes? Be 
 it so: God will not punish the violation of an oath, when the act 
 engaged for by it is the commission of a crime: God would not 
 have punished Jephthah, had he omitted to put to death his un- 
 offending daughter, notwithstanding his eventual ' promise so to 
 do. Be it so: but, this being supposed, here is an end of the 
 eflScacy, the separate and independent efficacy, of an oath. 
 
 To the purpose in question, the authority given by the oath to 
 the inferior being over the superior, must have been understood 
 to be absolute, or it must have amounted to nothing. Were there 
 any exceptions or limitations? If so, the imagination is set to 
 work to look Out for the terms and grounds of such exceptions 
 25 
 
290 
 
 JUDICIAL OATHS. 
 
 and limitations: to inquire, for example, into the species and 
 degree of mischief that in each instance might be expected to 
 result from the violation of testimonial truth. But li this, then, 
 be the ground of the supernatural punishment attached to the 
 violation of the oath, — then the mere violation of the oath itself, 
 independently of the mischief resulting from the falsehood; is 
 not that ground; that is, — the effect produced by the oath, con- 
 sidered in and by itself, amounts to nothing. 
 
 In vain vi^ould it be to say, No; v^hen God punishes for per- 
 jury, though he punishes for the profanation, that does not hin- 
 der but that he may punish for the false testimony in proportion 
 to the mischievousness of the effects produced by it. What- 
 ever reason there is for supposing him to punish for the false 
 testimony, there is the same reason for supposing him to punish 
 for that crime, whether the profanation be or be not coupled 
 with it. Whatever punishment is inflicted by him on the score 
 of the false testimony, is not inflicted by him on the score of 
 the profanation: whatever is inflicted by him on the score of the 
 profanation, is not inflicted by him on the score of the false tes- 
 timony. 
 
 Either the ceremony causes punishment to be inflicted by the 
 Deity, in cases where otherwise it would not have been in- 
 flicted; or it does not. In the former case, the same sort of 
 authority is exercised by man over the Deity, as that which, 
 in English law, is exercised over the judge by the legislator, or 
 over the sheriff by the judge. In the latter case, the ceremony is 
 a mere form, without any useful effect whatever.^vi. 309-310. 
 
 Attach to the ceremony, and thence to the profanation of it, 
 but the smallest particle of punishment, and that particle insepa- 
 rable; then has every man a sure recipe for binding himself, and 
 any such other man as the influence of a moment can put into 
 his power for this purpose, — for binding them, with a force pro- 
 portioned to the quantum of this particle, to the commission of 
 all imaginable crimes: then has man, by grant from God himself, 
 a power over God, applicable at any time to the purpose of con- 
 verting God himself into an accomplice of all those crimes. 
 
 Let this be the supposition built upon, then would Jephthah, 
 by the amount of this inseparable particle, — then would Jeph- 
 thah, had he spared his daughter, have been punished by God's 
 power — punished, not for the taking of the rash vow, but for 
 the breaking of it. 
 
 Then would the assassin of Henry IV. (punished, or not pun- 
 
JUDICIAL OATHS. 291 ■ 
 
 ished for making the. attempt) have been punished, and by di- 
 vine vengeance, had he refrained from malcing it.* 
 
 Assassination, — assassination through motives of piety, is the 
 natural, — in case of consistency the necessary, and as history 
 testifies, the too frequent, — fruit of the popular persuasion rela- 
 tive to the nature and effect of oaths. 
 
 It was in the earliest stages of society — in those stages at 
 which the powers of the human understanding were at the 
 weakest — that this, together with so many other articles in the 
 list of supernatural securities, or substitutes for testimonial vera- 
 city, took their rise. Ordeals, in all their forms : trials by battle : 
 trials without evidence (understand human evidence :) trials by 
 supernatural, to the exclusion of human, evidence: trials by 
 evidence secured against mendacity by supernatural means — by 
 the ceremony of an oath. 
 
 As the powers of the human understanding gain strength, in- 
 vigorated by nourishment and exercise, — the natural securities 
 ~ rise in value, the supernatural, understood to be what they are, 
 drop, one after another, off the stage. First went ordeal : then 
 went duel : after that, went, under the name of the wager of law, 
 the ceremony of an oath in its pure state, unpropped by that 
 support which this inefficient security receives at present from 
 those efficient ones which are still clogged with it : by and by, 
 its rottenness standing confessed, it will perish off the human 
 stage : and this last of the train of supernatural powers, ultima 
 ceelicoliim, will be gathered, with Astrea, into its native skies. 
 
 The lights, which at that time of day were sought for in vain 
 from supernatural interference, are now collected and applied, 
 by a watchful attention to the probative force of circumstantial 
 evidence, and a skilful application of the scrutinizing force of 
 cross-examination. — vi. 318. 
 
 What gives an oath the degree of efficacy it possesses, is, that 
 in most points, and with most men, a declaration upon oath in- 
 cludes a declaration upon honour: t-he laws of honour enjdming 
 as to those points the observance of an oath. The deference 
 shown is paid in appearance to the religious ceremony : but in 
 reality it is paid, even by the most pious religionists, much more 
 to the moral engagement than to the religious. 
 
 It is, in truth, to the property which the ceremony of an oath 
 
 * In allusion to Ravaillac beinar supposed to have taken an oath to as- 
 sassinate Henry IV, He took the sacriiment on the da; un which he 
 comuiilted the murder. — Ed. 
 
292 VOID OATHS. 
 
 possesses, of weakening the power of the only really efficacious 
 securities, that what influence it has is confined. In the charac- 
 ter of a security for veracity, talie it by itself, it is powerless, and 
 may plainly be seen to be so. 
 
 Applied to judicial teistimony, if there be an appearance of its 
 exercising a salutary influence, it is because this supposed power 
 acts in conjunction with two real and efficient ones : the power 
 of the political sanction, and the power of the moral or popular 
 sanction. When, to preserve a man from mendacity, — in addi- 
 tion to the fear of supernatural punishment for the profanation 
 of the ceremony, a man has the fear of fine, imprisonment, pil- 
 lory, and so forth, on the one hand ; the fear of infamy, the con- 
 tempt and hatred of all that know him, on the other ; it is no 
 wonder that it should appear powerful. Strip it of these its ac- 
 companiments — deprive it of these its supports — ^its impotence 
 appears immediately. — vi. 512. 
 
 VOID OATHS. 
 
 When, in .the case of this or that application of it, pure mis- 
 -chief is beyond dispute seen to follow from the observance of it, 
 the oath it is said, is in this case void: absolutely null and void. 
 In form and appearance it is an oath;' but, not having the bind- 
 ing force of an oath, it has not the substance. This being the 
 -case, the conclusion is — that, upon the true and genuine instru- 
 ment, whatsoever mischiefs may be the result of the use made of 
 any such spurious instrument, ought not to be charged. 
 
 The oath is void! — The expression is familiar enough, but 
 what meaning is there at the bottom of it? The oath, this par- 
 'ticular oath, is void ; i. e. is not really binding upon the Almighty, 
 whom' it undertakes to bind ? Is this what is meant T If so, the 
 truth of this observation must be admitted to be above dispute : 
 for by what human instrument, under this or any other name, 
 can omnipotence be bound "! But, in regard to mischievous 
 effects, be they what they may, it leaves the case where it 
 found it. 
 
 By man — by the men upon whose agency it may come to have 
 a bearing, — by them will it or will it not be considered — by them, 
 let its effects have been in ever so high a degree mischievous, has 
 it not been considered — as binding upon them 'i The oath that 
 Jephthah took, was it or was it not by Jephthah considered as 
 binding upon Jephthah ? The oath that Herod took, was it or 
 was it riot by Herod considered as binding upon Herod ■! The 
 
jurymen's oaths. 293 
 
 oath which George took, was it or was it not considered by 
 George as binding upon George ?* Such are the questions that 
 call for answer, when, whether in speaking of it, any such words 
 as null or void be employed or not employed in speaking of it, 
 its effects, good and bad together, experienced and probable, 
 come to be weighed. 
 
 " The oath," says the casuist, — ^" the oath which Herod took 
 — was a void oath :" — What, in the mouth of the casuist, is the 
 meaning of this phrase 'i Either this or nothing, viz. that, in the 
 situation of that tyrant, the casuist, had it happened to him to 
 have taken such an oath, would not have considered himself as 
 bound by it. May be so : but the charger^ — the fatal charger, — ■ 
 was it the less cruelly stained by innocent blood 1 
 
 " Taken in the sense in which George is supposed, or pretended 
 to have understood it, the oath which he took would," says the 
 casuist, " have been a void oath." Be it so. But four millions 
 of his own subjects, in the breast of each of whom was enclosed a 
 soul not less precious than his own, a conscience not less entitled 
 to consideration than his own — four millions of his own country- 
 men, with their posterity to the end of time — were they the less 
 peremptorily treated in the character of an everlastingly de- 
 graded caste, composed of everlastingly dangerous adversaries 1 
 V^ere the hands of the sovereign less inexorably employed, in sow- 
 ing the seeds of rebellion broad cast, and sharpening the axe for 
 heads, more than could find room in many a thousand chargers ? 
 
 Besides the irrelevancy of it, as above shown — at the bottom 
 of every observation, for the expression of which any such adjec- 
 tive as null or void, any such substantive as nullity, is employed, 
 an inconsistency, an irremoveable inconsistency will be found. 
 From the ceremony, and that alone, is the binding force, what- 
 ever it be, that is supposed to attach on the case, derived ; from 
 the ceremony and nothing else : — and the ceremony, beneficial 
 in any degree— pernicious in any degree in its application — the 
 ceremony, which, except the application, is all there is in the 
 case, is it not in every case the same ? — v, 194-195. 
 
 i 
 
 JURYMEN'S OATHS. 
 
 No jury is ever impannelled, but their entrance into their ephe- 
 meral office is prefaced by what is called their oath. Each man 
 
 » In allusion to George III. founding his opposition to Catholic Eman- 
 cipation on his Coronation Oalh. — Ed. 
 
 25* 
 
294 COMPULSORY BELIEF. 
 
 bearing his part in this ceremony, pronaises that the verdict in 
 which he joins shall be according to the evidence, i. e. according; 
 to his own conception of the probative force of the evidence. 
 What is the consequence ■! That, so far as in relation to this 
 probative force {i. e. as to that one of the two sides of the cause, 
 to which the greatest quantity of probative force applies) there 
 is any ultimate difference of opinion, some proportion out of the 
 twelve, any number from one to eleven inclusive, has committed 
 perjury. Lest the consummation of this perjury should be de- 
 layed for an inconvenient length of time, a species of torturehas, 
 by the care of those judges by whom the foundation of this species 
 of judicature was laid, been provided for the purpose : a species 
 of torture composed of hunger, cold, and darkness. Hence judi- 
 cature by jury is a sort of game of brag, in which the stake is 
 won by the boldest and the most obstinate : they or he remain 
 unperjured — all the others perjured. Of all the men of law that 
 ever sat upon the oificial bench, by what one could this carefully- 
 manufactured and perpetually-exemplified perjury have been un- 
 known 1 — by what one of them was it ever spoken of as matter 
 of regret 1 — vi. 314. 
 
 COMPULSORY BELIEF. 
 
 In the field of theology (all history joins in proving it) the at- 
 tachment manifested by men to an opinion, and in particular by 
 .men in power, is strenuous and inflexible, in the direct propor- 
 tion of its absurdity. The effect is the result of the conjoint in- 
 fluence of a variety of causes. 
 
 L With the zealous and sincere ; the more palpably and fla- 
 grantly absurd the proposition — the greater the reluctance on the- 
 •part of a man's understanding to the adoption of it — the greater- 
 and more powerful the effort necessary to overcome that reluc- 
 tance, — the greater is the difficulty, and thence the apparent 
 merit, of the sacrifice. If the sacrifice of the body is an oblation 
 acceptable to the more than canine appetite of a malevolent and', 
 jealous deity, — the sacrifice of the nobler part, the mind, the un- 
 derstanding itself, must be a stillmore grateful sacrifice. 
 
 2. Insincere, or even sincere ; the greater the absurdity of the- 
 proposition, the greater the impossibility of obtaining in favour 
 of it that complete and imperturbable serenity of mind which- 
 accompanies the conviction impressed upon the mind by real and 
 familiar truths: the greater, consequently, the irritation produced 
 by that presumptive evidence of the falsity of the proposition, the 
 
EXCULPATIVE PERJURY. 295 
 
 amount of which is swelled by every instance of disbelief on the 
 part of other minds. Every such instance of dissent constitutes 
 a sort of circumstantial presumptive evidence of the erroneous- 
 ness of the proposition thus adhered to. Every such piece of 
 evidence forms an obstacle to the formation, entertainment, or 
 continuance of the persuasion which a man has it so much at 
 heart to entertain (if sincere,) or if (insincere) to appear to enter- 
 tain, without prejudice to his reputation for sincerity in the circle 
 in which he moves. 
 
 3. Sincere, or insincere ; the more palpable the absurdity, the 
 greater is the triumph, the more entire the mastery, obtained over 
 those minds from whom an assent, real or apparent, can be pro- 
 cured for it Swallow this poison, is among the commands 
 which impostors have been found impudent enough to issue, and 
 fanatics mad enough to obey. Such (has the triumphant im- 
 postor said to the astonished strangers whom he meant to impress 
 with the irresistible plenitude of his power)— such are the fruits 
 of faith, when it is sincere. Swallow this nonsense, is the crite- 
 rion of obedience imposed by each domineering dogmatist upon 
 the proselytes, whose opinions, or whose language, the force of 
 hope or fear has placed under his command. The more gross 
 the nonsense, the more prostrate is the obedience on one part, 
 the more absolute the power on the other. — vii. 109. 
 
 EXCULPATIVE PERJURY. 
 
 In England, scarcely any crime is so common as that of excul- 
 pative perjury ; — scarcely any so rare as that of criminative per- 
 jury; — especially in the case of the most highly punished species 
 of crimes. The reason is, that in the former case, humanity, i. e. 
 sympathy towards the individual over whose head the rod of 
 punishment hangs suspended, is an interest that acts in opposition 
 to the guardian interests : — in the latter case, its force is exerted 
 on the other side. 
 
 Among professional depredators, the propensity to exculpative 
 perjury is strengthened by the concurrence of other interests. 
 Not only each gang of specially connected depredators, but the 
 whole class, and, as it were, community of depredators taken 
 together, form, as it were, a particular community of itself, which, 
 \\ke other particular communities, lawful and unlawful, honour- 
 able and dishonourable, such as that of divines, lawyers, mer- 
 chants, &c., has its esprit de corps, its corporate affections, and 
 
296 AFFIDAVIT EVIDENCE. 
 
 other interests. Being a community within a community, it has 
 accordingly a popular sanction, a public opinion of its own, dis- 
 tinct from, and in this instance opposed to, the public opinion of 
 the great community, the public at large. This, therefore, is one 
 of the cases, in which the force of the popular sanction is divided 
 against itself, and in which that division which Is likely to be 
 strongest is on the side opposed to justice. — vi. 155. 
 
 THE SCIENCE OP JUDICIAL EVIDENCE. 
 
 In the map of science, the department of judicial evidence re- 
 mains to this hour a perfect blank. Power has hitherto kept it 
 in a state of wilderness : reason has never visited it. 
 
 In the few broken hints which, in the form of principles, may 
 be picked up here and there in the books of practice, little more 
 relevant and useful information is to be found, than would be ob- 
 tainable by natural philosophy from the logicians of the schools. 
 — vi. 209. 
 
 AFFIDAVIT EVIDENCE. 
 
 When a course of guilt rendered necessary by ill-constructed 
 laws, and become inveterate by habit, is become so familiar to 
 the eye as no longer to be productive of any perceptible sensa- 
 tion ; men, though in the theatre of justice accustomed to talk 
 morality, as a poor player in the like character might do upon 
 the stage, — such men will, like the poor player, sometimes forget 
 their part. The men I have in view shall not be named by me; 
 they are particular men, and there are more than one of them : 
 I was never set against them by any the least cause of enmity ; 
 enmity, had there ever been any, would long since have been 
 extinguished in the grave; they would scarcely, were they alive, 
 regard the observation so much as a token, or even as a cause of 
 displeasure : but I will not, on this occasion, refuse to mankind 
 the benefit of this my testimony. Oftentimes have I observed 
 them, while affidavits have been reading, looking about to their 
 brethren on the bench, or across the court to their quondam 
 brethren at the bar, with sympathetic nods, and winks, and 
 smiles, noting perjury, and treating it as a good joke. Such, 
 while suitors are men, and while judges are men, must be the 
 consequences of affidavit evidence. These were old men — I was 
 
FORMALITIES FOR AUTHENTICATING DEEDS. !i97 
 
 then a young one : youth, where there is any virtue, is the sea- 
 son for it: virtue, at a distance from temptation, may be prac- 
 tised without diflBculty. Whatever be the cause, well do I re- 
 member that no such jokes, especially when followed by such 
 marks of relish, have ever met my eyes or ears, without exciting 
 a mixed sensation of disgust and melancholy. 
 
 Are judges insensible to the impropriety of this, species of evi- 
 dence ? No : they are not insensible of it. How often have I 
 not heard them speaking with displeasure of the task imposed 
 upon them, or attempted to be imposed upon them, of trying a 
 cause by aflSdavits ! Why then submit to it at all t Because, 
 in certain cases, like so many other unpleasant tasks, (unpleei- 
 sant at least, in proportion to a man's love of justice,) it stands 
 imposed upon them by the inviolable law of usage. 
 
 When the decision is by a judge without a jury, could not the 
 examination be carried on without a jury likewise, at the same 
 time carried on in other respects as if there were a jury to hear 
 it, and decide upon it ■! Oh no : not for the world. Was ever 
 proposition so extravagant i Littleton, with Coke upon his back, 
 would rise out of his grave to protest against it. 
 
 Locke, in his Essay, speaks of a student in the art of dancing, 
 who could not ^practice unless an old trunk he had been used to 
 see in the rooms, were in the particular place he had been used 
 to see it in. An English judge vjsuld not know how to lend an 
 ear to the examination of a witness, unless he saw a dozen 
 tradesmen sitting in the box in which on these occasions he had 
 been used to see them. — vi. 464-465. 
 
 CUMBROUS FORMALITIES FOR AUTHENTICATING 
 
 DEEDS. 
 
 The supposition upon which judges and legislators have pro- 
 ceeded, in the fixation of the modes of authentication which they 
 have prescribed, has been that of a universal and constant dispo- 
 sition on the part of all suitors to commit forgery : or, if that 
 supposition has not in every instance been actually entertained, 
 it is the only one on which the modes prescribed are capable of 
 being justified — the only one by which the price paid, in the 
 shape of delay, vexation, and expense, for the supposed advan- 
 tage in the shape of satisfaction in respect of trustworthiness, 
 would not be recognised to be excessive and oppressive. If 
 among a thousand cases in which the legal effect of a piece of 
 written evidence is in dispute, there being not so much as one in 
 
298 FORGERY OP CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. 
 
 which the authenticity of it is a matter of real doubt on the part 
 of the suitor against whom it is produced, — it is only in the one 
 case where it is matter of real doubt, that the price paid for au- 
 thentication in the shape of delay, vexation, and expense, or all 
 together, need to be so considerable as to be worth counting. 
 Under the existing system, there is scarce a cause in which it is 
 not considerable, and in many a cause it would be found to be 
 seriously oppressive. 
 
 Thus it happens, that for one grain of mischief produced, or 
 that would or could be produced, by fraud in the shape oi for- 
 gery, ii thousand, ten thousand, are produced by fraud in the 
 shape of chicane: of chicane, produced partly by the enmity of 
 suitors, partly by the rapacity of their agents, abetted by that of 
 the subordinate officers of justice : both passions protected and 
 enqouraged and engendered by prejudice and indiflference on the 
 part of judges and legislators. Familiarized with the spectacle 
 of continual misery, generated according to rule and custom, and 
 therefore on their parts without blame, — the reduction of the 
 mischief to its minimum, the reduction of it so much as within 
 any narrower bounds, never presents itself to them as worth re- 
 garding. Like so many other processes which go on as it were 
 of themselves, according to pre-established and never-considered 
 rules, the authentication of evidence is considered as a sort of 
 mechanical operation, the pathological effects of which have no 
 claim upon them for so much as a thought. Whence all thisi 
 cohiposure] For the observance of the established rules, the 
 man in office is responsible : for the propriety of these rules — ^for 
 their subservience to the ends of justice, he is not responsible. — 
 vii. 184-185. 
 
 FORGERY OF CIRCUMSTANTIAl. EVIDENCE. 
 
 As well in the case of real evidence as in the case of written 
 evidence, forgery is susceptible of one main distinction— into 
 fabricalive and obliterative. The case where, in the employment 
 of expedients of this kind, theendeavour of the criminal is simply 
 to remove the imputation from himself, without seeking to fasten 
 it on any body else, is as common as the other case is rare. What- 
 ever be the crime, a main object of the endeavour of the criminal 
 is of course to expunge, as effectually as possible, all traces of 
 the commission of it. The hands, the garments of the murderer, 
 have they received a stain from the blood of the deceased ] The 
 
FORGERY OF CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. 299 
 
 most obvious reflection- suggests the removing the stain from 
 every thing from which it can be removed, and the destroying 
 or hiding any thing from which it cannot be removed. To su- 
 perinduce upon any object an appearance, the tendency of 
 which shall be to disprove the commission of the crime, — whe- 
 ther by disproving the existence of the criminal act or some 
 criminative circumstance, or by proving the existence of some 
 justificative, or extenuative, or exemptive, circumstance; — an 
 artifice of this tendency would suppose an ulterior degree of 
 refinement, and would come under the denomination oifabrica- 
 tive forgery of real evidence. 
 
 As it is only through the medium of physical facts that psy- 
 chological facts can be brought to view, it is, consequently, 
 through the medium of physical facts alone, that any deceptitious 
 representation of psychological facts can be conveyed. Physi- 
 cal facts alone, and not psychological facts, are the only one of 
 the two sorts of facts upon and in respect of which forgery can, 
 properly speaking, be committed — to which the operations in- 
 dicated by the term forgery can bear any direct and immediate 
 application. 
 
 As to physical facts; although, among the several modifica- 
 tions of which real evidence of the evanescent kind is suscepti- 
 ble — evidence consisting of motions, sounds, colours, smells, 
 tastes, and (if the word may be used) touches, — there is not 
 perhaps a single article that has not, at one time or other, been 
 taken for the subject of that sort of deceptitious operation which, 
 applied to other subjects, has received the name of forgery; yet 
 it is among the modifications of permanent real evidence that 
 we are to look for that modification of forgery which is most in 
 use, most readily apprehended, and most apt to present itself 
 under that name. 
 
 The beautiful history of the patriarch Joseph will afford us one 
 exemplification of forgery respecting real evidence. Preparato- 
 ry to the afiectionate forgiveness he meditated to extend to his 
 brethren, his plan required that an alarm should be raised in 
 their guilty bosoms — an apprehension of being punished, notin- 
 deed for the barbarity of which he had formerly been the victim, 
 but for a supposed ofl^ence of recent date, of which they were 
 altogether innocent. In this view it was, that, into one of the 
 sacks that had been filled with the corn which they had been 
 buying, he caused a cup to be introduced, which, not having 
 bought it, they had never meant to take. Here then we have 
 an example of forgery of real evidence of theft — forgery of real 
 evidence of the permanent kind — forgery of evidence presented 
 
300 FORGERY OF CIRCUMSFANTIAL EVIDENCE. 
 
 sented by the permanent situation of a certain material object, a 
 certain real body, principal object and subject-matter of the sup- 
 posed theft, the imputation of which it was intended thus to fix 
 upon them, though for a time only, and for a generous and 
 friendly purpose. 
 
 Another example may be afforded by the modern case of Cap- 
 tain Donnellan.* The' smell afforded by the laurel-water, the 
 poison supposed to have been employed by him as the instru- 
 ment of death, — this important phenomenon, susceptible of per- 
 manence in respect of the substance itself and its odorous power, 
 evanescent when considered in respect of the sensations of which, 
 on any given occasion it might have been productive, — was, at 
 any rate, (so long as the phial continued impregnated with it,) a 
 lot of real evidence — a lot of evidence indicative, at once, of the 
 physical act by which the poison was applied to the organs of 
 the patient; of the intention, the murderous intention, in pur- 
 suance of which these acts were performed; and of the criminal 
 consciousness with which that intention was accompanied. 
 Conscious of all these facts, as well as of the punishment an- 
 nexed by law to such crimes, Donnellan, on observing how the 
 phial had become the subject of observation, took it up, and, 
 with the apparent view of doing away the instructive smell, 
 poured water into it, arid rinsed it but. The forgery thus ac- 
 tually committed was of the kind that has been distinguished 
 by the name of obliteralive. Suppose now, that, instead of 
 simply clearing the phial of the existing smell, it had been his 
 plan, for farther security, to superinduce another — the smell, for 
 instance, of some highly-scented medicine, such as would have 
 been suitable to the patient's c3Sfi,—fabricative forgery would 
 thus have been added to obliteralive. 
 
 In the case where guilt, guilt on the part of the forger, really 
 exists, — the inculpative fact, of which the act in question ope- 
 rates as evidence, is a psychological fact — the existence of cul- 
 pable consciousness — consciousness that the act, whereby the 
 effect is intended to be produced, is of the number of those 
 which stand proscribed by one at least of the two guardian 
 sanctions, the political and the moral, if not by both. 
 
 No system of established procedure is yet known that does not 
 afford instances — instances in greater numbers than an eye of 
 sensibility can contemplate without concern apd apprehension — 
 
 • See a more particular account of his case in the next article. The 
 extremely nice chain of presumptions from which the belief of his guilt 
 was inferred, made the justice of the conviction a subject of much contro- 
 versy, and several pamphlets were written on the subject. — Ed. 
 
EVIDENCE FROM PRBPARATIOH. 301 
 
 where individuals, really innocent, have sunk under a load of im- 
 putation heaped upon them by fallacious circumstantial evidence. 
 Suppose an article of this description, pregnant with false infer- 
 ences, — an article exhibiting appearances susceptible of perma- 
 nence : — the dagger employed by a murderer, conveyed mto the 
 pocket of an innocent man ; the garment of an innocent man 
 stained, by design or accident, with blood from the body of a man 
 who has been murdered. Suppose the innocent man detected in 
 his endeavours to rid himself of the dagger, to wash away the 
 blood : the dagger, the blood, fallacious as they are, are, not with -~ 
 standing, evidence : these endeavours, innocent as they are, will 
 accordingly be, in appearance at any rate, and in a certain sense 
 in reality, forgery of real evidence. 
 
 The case of the unfortunate Galas affords an exemplification 
 of more than one of the incidents by which the conclusiveness of 
 an inculpative presumption may be proved. A son of his had 
 received a violent death from his own hands: the father was 
 brought to trial on a charge of murdering the son. As far as 
 the confusion of mind into which he was plunged permitted, he 
 had obliterated or changed some of the appearances about the 
 body of the deceased, and other circumjacent bodies: here was 
 forgery of real evidence. On his examination, he denied some 
 of the facts by which the non-naturality of the death was indi- 
 cated : in this mode, as in the former, he concealed — not indeed 
 the fatal act itself, the act by which the process of strangulation 
 was effected (for in that he had neither part nor privity,) — but 
 some of the evidentiary facts by which it was indicated r here 
 was clandestinity. To what end all these aberrations from the 
 line of truth 1 to cover guilt ? — No ; for there was none any 
 where. The object was to save the reputation of his departed 
 child, and thereby the reputation of the family, from the igno- 
 miny which, had the direct truth been known, would (he was 
 but too well assured) be stamped upon it by a most mischievous 
 and endemial prejudice. — vii. 15-17. 
 
 EVIDENCE OF CRIME FROM PREPARATIONS TO 
 COMMIT IT. 
 
 When the act projected is of a criminal nature, or where, on 
 any other account, the discovery of the design threatens to be 
 followed either by the frustration of it, or by any other inconve- 
 nience, either to the agent in question, or to any other person or 
 persons whose welfare is regarded by him with an eye of sym- 
 26 
 
302 
 
 EVIDENCE FROM PRBPAHATrON. 
 
 pathy, the natural state of things is, that the preparations should 
 be endeavoured to be concealed. Understand, the preparations 
 for bringing about the event which is particularly, and for its 
 own sake, endeavoured to be brought about. But in this main 
 and direct design are involved, by accident, a various and almost 
 indeterminate multitude of incidental and collateral ones: 1. 
 Preparations for giving birth to productive or facilitating causes 
 of all kinds and degrees of propinquity or remoteness ; for re- 
 moving obstructions of all kinds from all quarters, and, among 
 others, for obviating suspicion of the design itself; 2. Prepara- 
 tions, as it were, of the second order, for preventing discovery 
 or suspicion of the preparations of the first order, viz. of those 
 which are pointed most immediately to the accomplishment of 
 the principal design ; 3. To these preparations of the second or- 
 der, imagination will easily add preparations of the third and 
 fourth order, and so on ; for it is evident, that to this chain of 
 preparations — to the chain of eventual or intended causes capa- 
 ble of being thus spun out of the stores of wayward industry — 
 ihere can be no certain limit. 
 
 The measures thus taken for concealment or illusion— for in- 
 volving facts in darkness, or covering them with false colours — 
 will sometimes appear in the form of discourse, oral or written ; 
 sometimes in the shape of deportment, — physical acts at large. 
 Whatever a man does, he does either by his own hands, — by 
 his own immediate operative powers, or by the hands of others. 
 When he gives motion to the hands of others, it will generally 
 be by words. So, if the hands or the lips of others be prevented 
 from raising up obstructions to his designs : and, among the per- 
 sons thus wrought upon — the persons prevented from becoming 
 or continuing to act in the character of opponents, or converted 
 into coadjutors — may be the intended sufferer himself 
 
 On March 30th, 1781, at the assizes at Warwick, Captain 
 Donnellan was convicted of murder, committed by poisoning Sir 
 Theodosius Boughton, in whose estates he had an interest in right 
 of his wife. This case will be found pregnant with a variety of 
 instructive illustrations. The determination was formed, that, in 
 some way or other, the death of the young man should take place. 
 To shut the door against suspicion, a notion was to be propagated, 
 that his state of health was desperate ; that death— speedy death 
 — was certain ; that his imprudence was continually heaping up 
 causes upon causes.* The poison employed was distilled laurel- 
 Trial, pp. 18, 20. 
 
SCIENTIFIC EVIDENCE. 303 
 
 water. The plant was to be found, of course, in the garden ; 
 and the murderer not to have poison to buy, had provided him- 
 self with a still for the fabrication of it. He practised distillation 
 frequently; and the room in which he operated was kept by him 
 locked up.* The young man had a triflino; complaint for which 
 he was taking medicine: the contents of oneof the phials were 
 to be got rid of, and the poison substituted. The phials, as they 
 came in, used to be placed by him in an inner room, which he 
 had been in the habit of locking up. He happened once to for- 
 get to take his medicine. " Why" (says Donnellan)" don't you 
 set it in your outer room 1 you would not then be so apt to for- 
 get it." — The fatal advice was taken : and thus the necessary 
 opportunity was prepared. 
 
 Preparations capable of a specific description are frequently 
 and properly made the subject of a separate prohibition ; — con- 
 verted into distinct offences. 
 
 Where the connexion between any such preparatory act and 
 its correspondent principal act is locked upon as sufficiently inti- 
 mate^ — where the existence of the former is looked upon as suf- 
 ficiently conclusive with regard to the existence of the latter — the 
 vigilance of the legislator has not uncommonly exercised itself in 
 laying hold of the preparatory act, and converting it, by his pro- 
 hibition and punishment, into a separate offence ; instead of taking 
 the chance of the judge being able to treat it upon the footing of 
 an evidentiary act, with reference to the corresponding principal 
 act, and so bringing it within the punishment already attached 
 to such , principal act. Forgery, coining, but, above all, smug- 
 gling, afford so many instances of this line of legislative practice, 
 vll. 19-20. 
 
 SCIENTIFIC EVIDENCE. 
 
 In the case of Le Brun, a domestic servant, erroneously con- 
 victed of the murder of his mistress, Madame Mazel, at Paris, by 
 a sentence of the Lieutenant-crimlnel, dated ISth January, 1690, 
 mention Is made of five sorts of professional persons to whom the 
 denomination of experts is applied, and of whose evidence the 
 substance is reported. Locksmiths, to explain the nature of a 
 masfer-key, known to have been in his possession, and its rela- 
 tion to other keys belonging to the same locks. Cutlers, to say 
 whether there was any relation between a knife found upon the 
 
 * Trial, p. 41. 
 
304 
 
 SELP-CRIMINATIVE EVIDENCE. 
 
 person of the defendant, and another knife which appeared to 
 have been made use of in his rommitting the murder, but had 
 been found in another place. Peruke-makers, to say whether a 
 few hairs that had been found in the clenched hand of the de- 
 ceased, might have been the defendant's, and plucked from his 
 head. Washerwomen, to make a comparison between the shirts 
 and neckcloths of the defendant, and a bloody shirt and neck- 
 cloth that appeared to have belonged to the murderer, and to have 
 been stained with blood in the course of the struggle. Rope- 
 makers, to say whether there was any resemblance between some 
 cords that had been found in the possession of the defendant, 
 and a strange cord, which it was thought, might have been 
 made use of, or provided for the purpose of the murder. All these 
 experts are mentioned as having been nominated by the Lieute- 
 nant-criminel, the judge. — v. 314. 
 
 THE EULE THAT " IT IS HAED FOR A MAN TO 
 BE BOUND TO CRIMINATE HIMSELF." 
 
 Hard it is upon a man, it must be confessed, to be obliged to 
 do any thing that he does not like. That he should not much 
 like to do what is meant by his criminating himself, is natural 
 enough; for what it leads to, is, his being punished. What is 
 no less hard upon him, is, that he should be punished: but did 
 it ever yet occur to a man to propose a general abolition of all 
 punishment, with this hardship for a reason for it? Whatever 
 hardship there is in a man's being punished, that, and no more, is 
 there in his thus being made to criminate himself: with this dif- 
 ference, that when he is punished, — punished he is by the very 
 supposition; whereas, when he is thus made to criminate him- 
 self, although punishment may ensue, and probably enough will 
 ensue, yet it may also happen that it does not. 
 
 What, then, is the hardship of a man's being thus made to 
 criminate himself. The same as that of his being punished: the 
 same in kind but inferior in degree: inferior, in as far as in the 
 I chance of an evil there is less hardship than in the certainty of 
 it. Suppose, in both cases, conviction to be the result: does it 
 matter to a man, would he give a pin to choose, whether it is 
 out of his own mouth that the evidence is to come or out of ano- 
 ther's? 
 
 To this, to which, in compliance with inveterate and vulgar 
 prejudice, I have given the name of the old woman's reason, I 
 might, with much more propriety, give the name of the lawyer's 
 reason. When a child has hurt itself, and a chirurgical operation 
 
SELP-CRIMINATIVE EVIDENCE. 305 
 
 is deemed necessary for its cure, it may be that liere and there 
 an old woman may be found weak enough to exclaim, Oh, the 
 poor dear child ! how it wiD hurt the poor dear child ! how hard 
 it will be upon the poor dear child ! and so on ; no, it sha'n't be 
 doctored. It would be too much to say that such old women do 
 not exist ; but sure enough they would not, in any very consider- 
 able number, be very easy to be found. 
 
 But the lawyer, in disposing of the fate of those who, if they 
 were in any degree dear to him, would not be dealt with by him 
 as they are, has never — let us not say any other, — at any rate 
 employs scarcely ever any better style of reasoning. The reasons 
 most plenty with him, the only reasons that are not rare, are 
 technical reasons. The reasons that with him are^hoice and rare, 
 the reasons brought out only now and then are these old women's 
 reasons : reasons consisting in the indicating, out of a multitude 
 of reasons standing on each side, some one only on one side. 
 
 Nor yet is all this plea of tenderness, — this double-distilled and 
 treble refined sentimentality, any thing better than a pretence. 
 From his own mouth you will not receive the evidence of the 
 culprit against him ; but in his own hand, or from the mouth of 
 another, you receive it without scruple : so that at bottom, all 
 this sentimentality resolves itself into neither more nor less than 
 a predilection — a confirmed and most extensive predilection, for 
 bad evidence : for evidence, the badness of which you yourselves 
 proclaim, and ground arguments and conclusions upon in a thou- 
 sand cases. 
 
 What every man knows, and what even yourselves, in spite of 
 all your science, cannot be ignorant of, is, — that, of all men, the 
 man himself is the last man who would willingly speak falsely to 
 his own prejudice ; and that, therefore, against every man, his 
 own is the safest, the most satisfactory of all evidence ; and it is 
 of this best and most trustworthy of all possible evidence, that 
 your pretended tenderness scruples not to deprive the interests of 
 truth and justice ! 
 
 You know of such or such a paper: — tell us where it maybe 
 found. A request thus simple, your tenderness shudders at the 
 thoughts of putting to a man : his answer might lead to the 
 execution of that justice, which you are looking out for pretences 
 to defeat. This request, you abhor the thoughts of putting to 
 him: but what you scruple not to do (and why should you 
 scruple to do it ?) is, to despatch your emissaries in the dead of 
 night to his house — to that house which you call his castle, to. 
 break it open, and seize the documents by force. — vii. 452. 
 
 26* 
 
see 
 
 SELF-CRIMINATIVE EVIDENCE. 
 
 An observation that appears to have been made on this subject 
 is,that when a man has been convicted of a crime, it would be 
 an unpleasant thing to him to speak of it ; and thence it is that 
 a man, whose testimony, if admitted, will be sure to be delusive, 
 (for that is the supposition,) is to be admitted to give this delusive 
 testimony, rather than that any questions should be put to him 
 concerning a fact on which perjury without detection would be 
 impossible. But, if its being unpleasant to a man is a reason for 
 not asking him a question, a fortiori it ought to be a reason for 
 not punishing him ; for how unpleasant soever it may be to a 
 man to say, I have been whipped, pilloried, or transported, the 
 operation of whipping, pillorying, or transporting, should, one 
 would think, be still more so. 
 
 In no possible case can the unpleasant circumstance in ques- 
 tion, the punishment, (jf it is to be called one,) be surer of not 
 falling upon one who is innocent, than in the present ; for it he 
 to whom the question is thus put, whether he has been convicted 
 of such or such an offence, never was convicted of it, — how it 
 should ever happen to him to forswear himself, and answer in the 
 affirmative, unless he takes a pleasure in forswearing himself to 
 his own prejudice, is scarpely to be conceived. How well dis- 
 posed soever a man may be to be unjust to others, there seems to 
 be no great danger of his being disposed to do injustice to him- 
 self. — vii. 410. 
 
 Prosecution for robbery : John Stiles examined in relation to 
 it, in the character of an extraneous witness. A question is put, 
 the elfect of which, were he to answer it, might be to subject him 
 to conviction in respect of another robbery, attended with murder, 
 in which he bore a share. On the ground of public utility and 
 common sense, is there any reason why the collateral advantage 
 thus proffered by fortune to justice should be foregone ? Refusing 
 to compass the execution of justice by this means, by what fairer 
 or better means can you ever hope to compass it ? 
 
 The punishment he will incur, if any, will be a distinct punish- 
 ment, for a distinct offence ; an offence which, at the institution 
 of the suit, was perhaps never thought of. 
 
 Be it so: and should this happen, where will be the mischief? 
 wherein consists the grievance'! That a crime, which, but for 
 the accident, might perhaps have remained unpunished, comes, 
 by means of this accident, to be punished. Of the penal law in 
 question, nothing being known, but that it is a penal law, is it 
 
EXCLUSION OP-A WIFE's TESTIMONY. 307 
 
 thereby known to be a bad one ■? and to such a degree a bad 
 one, that the execution of it is a grievance? Is the state of the law- 
 then such, that a law taken at random is more likely to be a bad 
 one than a good one ? a nuisance than a security? Or is a law 
 the less likely to be good, the more likely to be bad, because it is 
 by this accident, rather than any other, that the transgression of 
 it happens to be brought to light 1 — ^vii. 466. 
 
 ON THE RULE THAT A WIPE IS NOT BOUND TO 
 TESTIFY AGAINST HER HUSBAND. 
 
 The film of prejudice once removed, a very loose system of 
 morality, or rather (to speak plainly) a system of gross im- 
 morality, will be seen to be at the bottom of these exemptive 
 rules. The very crime which it punishes in one man— punishes 
 even with death —it affords its protection to in another. It con- 
 verts, or seeks to convert, the house of every man, into a nursery 
 of unpunishable crimes. The same age of barbarism and super- 
 stition, the same age of relaxed morality, which gave birth to the 
 institution of asylums, gave birth (there seems reason to think) 
 to this privilege, which gives to each man a safe accomplice in 
 his bosom. The mischievousness of the domestic asylum goes, 
 however, far beyond that of the asylum commonly so called. 
 The church, churchyard, or monastery, whatever it was, did not 
 afford to the criminal any thing like a complete exemption from 
 all punishment : it was itself a punishment: it was banishment 
 from his family : it included imprisonment, or a degree of con- 
 finement so close as to be scarce distinguishable from it : it placed 
 him in a state of penury, humiliation, and dependence. 
 
 A rule like this, protects, encourages, inculcates fraud. For 
 falsehood, positive falsehood, is but one modification of fraud : 
 concealment, a sort of negative falsehood, is another : I mean, 
 concealment of any facts, of which, for the protection of their 
 rights, individuals or the public have a right to be informed. 
 The concealment which is authorized by the law, it may be said, 
 ceases to be fraud. No ; that it does not : I mean, in this case. 
 A concealment which is authorized by the substantive branch of 
 the law, cannot be fraudulent: the authorization does away the 
 fraud : what is authorized is legalized : criminality and legality 
 are repugnant and incompatible. But the law cannot, without 
 authorizing fraud, authorize by its adjective branch, the doing of 
 that which, by its substantive branch, it has constituted a crime. 
 
308 ^ EXCLUSION OF A WIFe's TESTIMONY 
 
 By the punishment annexed to the act by the substantive branch ■ 
 of the law, the law has acknowlfidged and proclaimed its misT 
 chievousness : if the act be not mischievous, the legislator has no 
 warrant for marking it out for punishment. But if the act be 
 mischievous, on what ground, with what consistency, does it in 
 any instance seek to exempt it from punishment, as if it were in- 
 nocent ? — exempt it in consideration of a fact purely irrelevant — 
 a fact by which the mlschievousness of it is not so much as pre- 
 tended to be diminished 1 An article of adjective law which is 
 at variance with the substantive law, is itself a fraud. The sub- 
 stantive branch of the law declares, undertakes, engages, for the 
 benefit of all parties interested, that all persons offending so and 
 so shall be punished so and so. The judicial authority, which, 
 by a law of the adjectjve kind, of its own making, takes upon 
 itself to exempt a man from such punishment, on a ground by 
 which his case is not varied in point of guilt, violates that engage- 
 ment. Fraudulent in itself, — so far as it encourages others to 
 pursue that plan of concealment by which the engagement is 
 violated, it is the cause of fraud in others. By aggregating the 
 act to the class of crimes, and rendering it punishable as such, it 
 declares it to be a mischievous act, and to such a degree so, as to 
 be a crime. By authorizing an individual to conceal it, in a case 
 in which it is not so much as pretended that its mlschievousness 
 is in the smallest degree less than in other cases, 4t at once pro- 
 tects and encourages two different acts, of the mlschievousness 
 apd criminality of which it shows itself sufficiently sensible on 
 other occasions ; the principal crime, and that concealment of it, 
 which, when the act so concealed is criminal, is itself a crime. 
 
 It debases and degrades the matrimonial union ; converting 
 into a sink of corruption, what ought to be a source of purity. 
 It defiles the marriage-contract itself, by tacking to it in secret a 
 license to commit crimps. 
 
 I say in secret ; for the probability is, that an institution so 
 repugnant to moral sentiments is not generally known, and, on 
 that account, is not productive of all the mischief, of which, if 
 known universally, it would he productii'e. TSo care being taken 
 to enable men to possess themselves of that knowledge, on which 
 their security, in every branch of it, is in a state of continual de- 
 pendence, — the degree of information which they actually have 
 of it, depends upon its natural aptitude for being guessed at. To- 
 the knowledge of what, on each head, is law, they have nopther 
 clue than such conception as they are led to (brm to themselves 
 of what it ought to be. 
 
AGAINST HER HUSBAND. 309 
 
 Oh ! but think what must be the sufTering of my wife, if com- 
 pelled by her testimony to bring destruction on my head, by dis- 
 closing my crimes ! — Think ? answers the legislator : yes, indeed, 
 I think of it ; and, in thinking of it, what I think of besides, is, 
 what you ought to think of it. Think of it as part of the punish- 
 ment which awaits you, in case of your plunging into the paths 
 of guilt. The more forcible the impression it makes upon you, 
 the more effectually it answers its intended purpose. Would 
 you wish to save yourself from it 1 it depends altogether upon 
 yourself; preserve your innocence. 
 
 To the legislators of antiquity, the married state was an' object 
 of favour: they regarded it as a security for good behaviour: a 
 wife and children were considered as being (what doubtless they 
 are in their own nature) so many pledges. Such was the policy 
 of the higher antiquity. The policy of feudal barbarism, of the 
 ages which gave birth to this immoral rule, is to convert that 
 sacred condition into a nursery of crime. 
 
 The reason now given was not, I suspect, the original one. 
 Drawn from the principle of utility, though from the principle of 
 utility imperfectly applied, it savours of a late and polished age. 
 The reason that presents itself as more likely to have been the 
 original one, is the grimgibber nonsensical reason, — that of the 
 identity of the two persons thus connected. Baron and Femme 
 are one person in law. On questions relative to the two matrimo- 
 nial conditions, this quibble is the fountain of all reasoning. 
 
 Among lawyers, among divines, among all candidates setting 
 up for power in a rude age, working by fraud opposed to force, 
 scramWing for whatever could be picked up of the veneration 
 and submission of the herd of mankind, — there has been a sort 
 of instinctive predilection for absurdity in its absurdest shape. 
 Paradox, as it could be forced down, has always been preferred 
 by them to simple truth. He who is astonished, is half subdued. 
 Each absurdity you get people to swallow, prepares them for a 
 greater. And another advantage is, the same figure of rhetoric 
 which commands the admiration and obedience of the subject 
 class, helps the memory of the domineering class : it is a sort of 
 memoria iechnica. 
 
 All these paradoxes, all these dull witticisms, have this in com- 
 mon, — that, on taking them to pieces, you find wrapped up, in a 
 covering of ingenuity, some foolish or knavish, and in either case 
 pernicious, lie. It is by them that men are trained up in the de- 
 grading habit of taking absurdity for reason, nonsense for sense. 
 It is by the swallowing of such potions, that the mind of man is 
 
310 GIVING PRISONERS a CHANGE OF ESCAPE. 
 
 rendered feeble and rickety in the morning of its days. To burn 
 tliem all, without exception, in one common bonfire, would be a 
 triumph to reason, and a blessing to mankind. — vii. 484-486. 
 
 THE FOX HUNTER'S REASON FOR GIVING PRISON- 
 ERS A CHANCE OF ESCAPE. 
 
 Thi»consists in introducing upon the carpet of legal procedure 
 the idea of fairness, in the sense in which the word is used by 
 sportsmen. The fox is to have a fair chance lor his life : he 
 must have (so close is the analogy) what is called law, — leave 
 to run a certain length of way for the express purpose of giving 
 him a chance for escape. . While under pursuit, he must not be 
 shot : it would be as vnfair as convicting him of burglary on a 
 hen-roost, in five minutes' time in a court of conscience. 
 
 In the sporting code, these laws are rational, being obviously 
 conducive to the professed end. Amuserr.ent is that end : a 
 certain quantity of delay is essential to it : despatch, a degree of 
 despatch reducing the quantity of delay below the allowed mini- 
 mum, would be fatal to it. 
 
 In the case of the fox, there is frequently an additional reason 
 for fair play. By foul play, the source of the amusement might 
 be exhausted : the breed of that useful animal might be destroyed, 
 or reduced too low ; the outlawry, so long ago fatal to wolves, 
 might extend itself to foxes. 
 
 In the mouth of the lawyer, this reason, were the nature of it 
 seen to be what it is, would be consistent and in character. 
 Every villain let loose one term, that he may bring custom the 
 next, is a sort of a bag-fox, nursed by the common Hunt at 
 Westminster. The policy so dear to sportsmen, so dear to rat- 
 catchers, cannot be supposed entirely unknown to lawyers. To 
 different persons, both a fox and a criminal have their use: the 
 use of a fox is to be hunted; the use of a criminal is to be tried. 
 
 But inasmuch as, in the mouth of the lawyer, it would be tell- 
 ing tales out of school,— from such lips this reason must not be 
 let out without disguise. If let out at all, it must be let drop in 
 the form of a loose hint, so rough and obscure, that some country 
 gentleman or other, who has a sympathy for foxes, may catch it 
 up, and taking it for his own, fight it up with that zeal with 
 which genius naturally bestirs itself in support of its own inven- 
 tions. — vii. 454. 
 
REJECTING THE TESTIMONY OF ATHEISTS. 311 
 
 THE RULES EXCLUDING THE TESTIMONY OF 
 CRIMINALS. 
 
 If the legislator had his choice of witnesses upon every occa- 
 sion, and witnesses of all sorts in his'pocket, he would do well 
 not to produce any, upon any occasion, but such over whose 
 conduct the tutelary motives exercised despotic sway: in a word, 
 to admit no other man for witnesses than perfect men. But per- 
 fect men do not exist: and if the earth were covered with them, 
 delinquents would not send for them to be witnesses to their de- 
 linquency. In such a state of things, then, the legislator has this 
 option, and no other: to open the door to all witnesses, or to 
 give license to all crimes. For all purposes, he must take men 
 as he finds them: and, for the purpose of testimony, he must 
 take such men as happen to have been in the way to see, or to say 
 they have been in the way to see, w'hat, had it depended upon the 
 actors, would not ha^rebeert seen by nobody. — vii. 413. 
 
 THE RULE REJECTING THE TESTIMONY OF 
 ATHEISTS. 
 
 An atheist is a bad witness? but how to know him from an- 
 other? It must be fronv his own account of himself, if from any 
 thing; for atheism is not written on a man's forehead. Which, 
 then, is the true atheist? — the man who says he is not an atheist, 
 and is one? or the man who says he is an atheist, and is not so? 
 This pretended atheist (i-t should seem) must be considered as 
 the true one, for every practical purpose. Those who speak of 
 atheists as lying under the disabilities in question, must, if they 
 mean any thing, mean such- persons, and all such persons, as 
 exhibit the only marks of atheism which the nature of the case 
 can by any possibility afford. If this be true, here is a receipt, 
 and that an infallible one, whereby any man that pleases may 
 render his testimony nnrece^ivabie. The conspirators in one of 
 the assassination plots against Henry the Fourth of France, or 
 his predecessor, (I forget which,) made use of the sacrament as 
 an instrument for binding one another to mutual fidelity. Had 
 they brootled over their plots under the shadow of the English 
 common law, they might have found in atheism, or pretended 
 atheism, a security of rather a different nature, it must be con- 
 fessed, but applicable to the same use, andof rather superior effi- 
 cacy. A man might have taken ever so many sacraments, and 
 be never the worse witness: but one good declaration of atheism, 
 
312 
 
 ATROCITY OF A CHARGE MADE A 
 
 made in proper form and in proper company, will be enough to 
 make him as bad as can be desired. When a man has been re- 
 ceived to serve the king, if he would serve with safety, he must 
 produce a certificate of orthodoxy, as demonstrated by taking the 
 sacrament according to the forms of the English church. When 
 a man propo.'ses to join in murdering the king, if he would do 
 the business in safety as against his associates, he must make 
 them furnish him with a certificate of their atheism. — vii. 41i2, 
 
 ATROCITY OF A CRARGE MADE A REASON FOR 
 DISBELIEVING IT. 
 
 Of a man who brings forward this observation, the first ques- 
 tion to be asked is, what he means by atrocity? But this is that 
 sort of question which the sort of writer in question takes care 
 not to put to himself; his readers would not thank him for it. No- 
 thing is more troublesome to a man, than to be obliged to know 
 what he means: no error so pernicious, that he would not rather 
 adopt and give currency to, than load himself with so much 
 trouble. To explain or to inquire what it is a man means, is 
 metaphysics: — light is an object of hatred to all owls and to all 
 thieves; definitions, under the name of metaphysics, to all rhe- 
 toricians. "I hate metaphysics," exclaims Edmund Burke, 
 somewhere: it was not without cause. 
 
 What then is, on this occasion, meant by atrocity? — the 
 atrocity of the offence — no, not of the offence ; that would not 
 be sentimental enough: — of the crime. The word crime, be- 
 ing incurably indistinct and ambiguous, is the word to be em- 
 ployed upon all rhetorical occasions. 
 
 Does it mean the mischievousness of the oflTsnce? If it does, 
 the proposition is in a great degree erroneous. Of all ofl^ences, 
 by far the most mischievous are those which owe their birth, or 
 tend to give birth, to civil war: treason, rebellion, sedition, and 
 the like. Suppose a civil war: — subject of dispute, title to the 
 throne: question on which the title turns, legitimacy. The nation 
 is equally divided: to-day, one half are traitors; to-morrow the 
 other half. Whichever half is, for the time being, on the un- 
 successful side, and composed thereby of seditionists, rebels, 
 traitors, it is on that side that you find the most disinterested, 
 the most generous, the most heroical of mankind. If, then, by 
 atrocity we mean mischievousness, the proposition, that an of- 
 fence is the more improbable the more atrocious it is, is not true. 
 
REASON FOR DISBELIEVING IT. 313 
 
 By atrocity is not unfrequently, perhaps most frequently, 
 meant, neither more nor less than odiousneas; meaning of course 
 by odious, that which is so (no matter for what reason, no mat- 
 ter whether with or without reason) to the individual by whom 
 the appellation is employed: in a word that which is the object 
 of his antipathy. To one set of men, the man who differs 
 from them in some peculiarly tender point bearing relation to 
 religion, is the most atrocious character; to another, or to the 
 same, the man who has been drawn into some devious path by 
 the impulse of the sexual appetite. The existence of the Chris- 
 tian; the Theist, the Atheist, I have thus heard successively de- 
 nied by their respective abominators. In printed books I have 
 observed doubts, next in force to denial, expressed with rela- 
 tion to the existence of those non-conformists who, in company 
 with the wearers of linsey-woolsey, are consigned to destruction 
 in the second edition of the Mosaic law.. All passions are cun- 
 ning: antipathy not less so than any other. On the part of the 
 antipathist, the profession of incredulity is but a pretence and 
 a disguise, to enable him with more decency to give vent to his 
 rage, atid with more effect to point tlie rage of others against the 
 odious object. If the existence of these monsters is so incredi- 
 ble, the practical consequence should be, not to be so ready to 
 devote to perdition this or that individual, under the notion of 
 his being one of them. But the antipathist knows better than 
 to be thus cheated of his prey. The existence of the monster 
 is to be incredible, or next to incredible, for the purpose of ren- 
 dering him proportionably odious. The odiousness, being the 
 medium of proof for the demonstration of the improbability, is 
 assumed of course; and, forasmuch as an attempt to prove sup- 
 poses the necessity of proof, and assumption the non-necessity 
 of proof, assumption of a fact is still more persuasive than the 
 strongest proof of it. To screw up the odium against a man 
 to the highest pitch, you begin with declaring his existence — 
 the existence of so odious a character — next to impossible: 
 having thus pointed against him the rage of the judge, you make 
 use of that rage for disposing the judge to believe him guilty. 
 While Louis XIV. was persecuting the Huguenots, it was an 
 established maxim, a fiction of French law, that there were no 
 such persons in existence. 
 
 By atrocity may, again, be meant cruelly — cruelty displayed 
 in the commission of the offence. This sense is, of all, the 
 most literal and proper sense. But, if the import given to the 
 word atrocity is thus confined, the application of the maxim, the 
 description of offences to which it is applicable, is proportiona- 
 27 
 
314 CRIMINALS PROVIDE EVIDENCE AGAmST THEMSELVES. 
 
 bly confined. It is almost confined to personal injuries, homi- 
 cide included. If wilful destruction by fire or water be included, 
 it will be either because homicide, or the imminent danger of that 
 mischief, and upon a large scale, are involved — or because, in 
 its application to property, the amount of the mischief or danr 
 ger is so indefinitely extensive. — vii. 115-116. 
 
 THE VAEIOUS FORMS IN WHICH CRIMINALS 
 PROVIDE EVIDENCE AGAINST THEMSELVES. 
 
 Preparations, attempts, declarations of intention, threats: phy- 
 sical and involuntary symptoms of fear, betrayed by the confes- 
 sionalist upon an occasion specified: the care taken by him to 
 conceal the obnoxious event, the criminal act — or his person 
 while engaged in it; to keep out of the way all persons whose 
 presence might have been dangerous in the character of perci- 
 pient witnesses of it: the language held by him, before the act 
 and after it, in the view of quieting suspicion, or preventing it 
 from coming into existence: the exertions employed by him upon 
 a variety of objects, of the class o[ things, in the view of prevent- 
 ing them from assuming appearances capable of testifying against 
 him in the character of real evidence: the exertions employed by 
 him in the view of giving to any of those objects delusive ap- 
 pearances, tending to bring to view the obnoxious event as being 
 the work of mere accident, or of some other agent: the labour 
 employed by him upon the apprehended witnesses, whose ob- 
 servations, in the character of percipient witnesses, he could not 
 prevent from coming into existence: the exertions made by him 
 to keep them out of the way by direct threats or promises, by 
 deceitful representations, or by downright force — or, to induce 
 them, in the event of their appearance, to suppress the facls 
 indicative of his guilt, or even substitute to them pretended facts 
 indicative of his innocence: the exertions made by him for the 
 purpose of operating in the like manner upon persons who had 
 begun, or were expected by him, to act against him, in the cha- 
 racter of prosecutors: the exertions made by him for withdraw- 
 ing his person and property out of the reach of justice, and in the 
 meantime for concealing himself: the motives by which he was 
 stimulated to the commission of the ofTence: the length of time 
 during which these motives had been operating on his mind, and 
 the turn which this disposition of mind had, on different occa- 
 sions, given to his conduct: the language which it had occurred 
 
EVIDENCE FROM RANK AND WEALTH. 815 
 
 to him to hold to different persons on different occasions, whose 
 questions or observations he had to encounter in relation to the 
 principal facts of the offence, or any other facts whose connexion 
 with it might, to his apprehension, be discovered or suspected: 
 the silence he veiitured or was forced to maintain on some occa- 
 sions; the false or evasive answers it occurred to him to give on 
 other occasions; with the self-contradictions which, on some of 
 those occasions, he fell into in consequence: the memoranda he 
 had made of some of the facts connected, in one way or other, 
 with the criminal enterprise; the letters he had written to or 
 received from associates; and his alarm under the apprehension 
 that some of these documents had fallen into the adversary's 
 hands: his fears under the apprehension that among his consul- 
 tations with his confederates there were some that might have 
 been overheard by persons, through the evidence of whose dis- 
 course they would not fail to be conveyed to the notice of the 
 adversary: his fears that among his associates there were some 
 who either already had been, or soon would be, unfaithful to 
 their trust. — vii. 30-31. 
 
 RANK AND WEALTH AS EVIDENCE IN CRIMINAL 
 CHARGES. 
 
 The presumptive evidence of habitual opulence afforded by 
 office, visible property, education, habitual expenditure, will, in 
 general, be much more incontestable than any which can be af- 
 forded of moral character by general expressions. 
 
 Singly, (much more if in conjunction,) a certain degree of 
 opulence and rank in life are enough to render scarcely credible, 
 on any evidence, a fact for which, in another station, in respect 
 of rank and opulence, slight evidence would be sufficient to gain 
 credence. In any of the civilized nations of Europe, what evi- 
 dence would be sufficient to convict a prince of the blood, or a 
 minister of state, of having picked a man's pocket of a dirty 
 handkerchief, in a street, or in going into a playhouse? 
 
 One particular case there is, in which the force of the pre- 
 sumption derived from this source is not quite so great as, on 
 general considerations, it might appear. This is the case of 
 thefts committed on articles possessing a value of affection; and, 
 in particular, thefts committed by amateurs on fancy articles — 
 rare books, rare pictures, rare plants, shells, minerals, rare any 
 thing. A man who might be trusted, with safety, with a heap 
 of untold gold, might not be capable of resisting the temptation 
 
316 EVIDENCE FROM RANK AND WEALTH. 
 
 presented by some choice desideratum which, if to be sold, 
 might be tobe purchased for a few shillings. 
 
 The warning afforded by this observation is, happil^^ of no 
 great use in practice. Thefts of special concupiscence are the 
 offences of the rich: thefts of general concupiscence are the 
 offences of the poor. Thefts of the former description are apt 
 to experience a degree of indulgence in which the principle of 
 sympathy and antipathy will naturally find much to reprobate, 
 but to which the principle of utility is by no mean.'! equally 
 severe. The alarm in this case is extremely narrow: few but 
 amateurs have any thing to fear from the thefts of amateurs; and 
 the mischief which the negligence of an amateur has to fear 
 from the concupiscence of another, is confined to simple theft: 
 to the more formidable mischiefs of robbery, house-breaking, 
 and murder, the apprehension does not extend. Hence it is, 
 that thefts of this description, in the few instances in which they 
 are detected, experience, commonly, a degree of indulgence 
 such as would not be extended to those which have the plea of 
 necessity, or, at least, of hvligeyic.e, for their excuse. Hence, 
 too, it is, that the indulgence extended to themis not produc- 
 tive of any such general mischief to society, a.s would be the 
 result of the like indulgence, if extended with equal frequency 
 to promiscuous thefts. 
 
 In some cases, the question in regard to opulence and rank in 
 life enters into the essence of the cause: the probability and im- 
 probability of the main fact in dispute is in a manner governed 
 by them: and in these cases, whether character be or be not ex- 
 pressly held up to view, it is in a manner impossible to it not 
 to act, with more or less force, upon the mind of the judge. 
 
 Take the famous case of the Comte de Morangies,in Linguet's 
 Plaidoyers. The count — having occasion to borrow money to the 
 amount of 300,000 livres — with evident, though not unusual im- 
 prudence, trusts an obscure female money-broker, and through 
 her means a pretended money-lender, with bills of his, payable to 
 order, to that amount and upwards. Of thislarge sumno more than 
 1200 livres were really delivered. The pretended lender proves 
 the delivery of the whole by the testimony of three pretended eye- 
 witnesses. The whole cause of the unfortunate man of quality 
 rests upon circumstantial evidence: upon improbability, partly 
 of the physical, partly of the psychological kind. Station, in 
 respect of rank and opulence, on both sides, but more especially 
 (in respect of opulence) on the part of the pretended lender, 
 became a necessary subject of inquiry. Traced out from the 
 time of the pretended acquisition of this large fortune to the time 
 
" JUDGE SHOULD BE COUNSEL FOR PRISONER." 3 1 7 
 
 of the disposition thus pretended to have been made of it, the 
 whole history of her life and conversation concurred in represent- 
 ing the fact of her having possessed it, or any thing like it, as 
 scarce credible upon any testimony — absolutely incredible upon 
 the strength of the testimony produced. — vii. 62. 
 
 JUDGES RECOMMENDING CRIMINALS NOT TO PLEAD 
 GUILTY. 
 
 Where it happens to a prisoner to answer in the affirmative — 
 in appropriate language, to plead guilty — if he insists on it, the 
 general understanding seems to be that he has a right to have 
 such his plea recorded : in which case there is a necessary end of 
 the trial, and the verdict follows of course. 
 
 In practice, it is grown into a sort of fashion, when a prisoner 
 has returned this answer, for the judge to endeavour to persuade 
 him to withdraw it, and substitute the opposite plea, the plea of 
 not guilty, in its place. The wicked man, repenting of his wick- 
 edness, offers what atonement is in his power : the judge, the 
 chosen minister of righteousness, bids him repent of his repent- 
 ance, and irf place of the truth, substitute a barefaced lie. Such 
 is the morality, such the holiness, of an English judge. — vi. 473. 
 
 THE APHORISM THAT "THE JUDGE SHOULD BE 
 COUNSEL FOR THE PRISONER." 
 
 Of a rational and honest aphorism on this subject, what would 
 be the purport and effect 'i That the judge ought to be counsel 
 for all parties, and that in all sorts of causes. Not in criminal 
 causes alone, and such criminal causes alone in which the defen- 
 dant is in the condition of a prisoner, — and in those causes on the 
 side of the defendant alone ; but alike for all parties, and in all 
 sorts of causes. Where is the cause in which any the slightest 
 departure from the rule of impartiality is, in the eye of justice 
 and reason, any thing less than criminal on the part of the judge ? 
 Not that a mere negative impartiality is sufficient : a positive, an 
 active impartiality, must be added to it : to be equally active in 
 his endeavours to search out the truth on both sides, — that is the 
 true impartiality, the only true and proper sort of impartiality, 
 befitting the station of the judge. 
 
 Thus much is true, indeed, — that, next to the positive and 
 
 'Z7* 
 
318 " JUDGE bHOULD BE COUNSEL FOR PRISONER." 
 
 negative impartiality conjoined, comes negative impartiality alone: 
 next to his taking equal pains to search out the truth on both 
 sides, is his not giving himself any concern to search it out on 
 either side. 
 
 The psychological cause of this adage — is it worth looking for "i 
 In the currency given to it, humanity, or rather childish weak- 
 ness, may possibly, in here and there an instance, have had a 
 share; — hypocrisy, selfishness covering itself in the mask of 
 virtue, is in every instance a more probable cause. It is among 
 the artifices employed by lawyercraft to reconcile the .public mind 
 to the sale of indulgences. Decision in favour of the defendant 
 on a ground foreign to the merits — decision grounded on a 
 quirk or quibble — is among the instruments by which this species 
 of traffic has ever been carried on. 
 
 In the individual instance in which the quibble is not only 
 applied to this purpose, but discovered by the Judge, no imme- 
 diate profit, perhaps, results to any body : either there is no coun- 
 sel, or if there be, the counsel, without the quibble, and for the 
 mere chance of his finding out that or some other quibble, has 
 received his fee. 
 
 But the practice itself is, in its own nature, shocking to com- 
 mon sense and common honesty : the public mind, had it not 
 been duped and gulled, could never have contemplated it ^vithout 
 the indignation and scorn it merited. A sophism, therefore, was 
 to be invented for that purpose — a lying spirit was to be sent 
 forth to deceive the people ; and this was the imp that offered 
 itself. 
 
 The traffic would not have been borne in any case, if the credit 
 of the commodity had not been kept up in all cases: and nothing 
 could contribute more powerfully to keep up the credit of the 
 sophism, than the distributing it through the pure (and to appear- 
 ance unpaid) hands of the judge. The policy is no secret to any 
 species of impostor : like the husbandman, he knows when to 
 scatter as well as how to gather in ; the quack, that he may sell 
 the more of his pills at one time, distributes them gratis at an- 
 other. 
 
 Without strict search, assertion is not to be ventured : but, 
 from principle, I should not expect to find that the adage had 
 ever been employed to any other than a bad purpose. How 
 should it 1 Good wine needs no bush : putting a pertinent ques- 
 tion, bringing to light the innocence of the innocent, needs no 
 apologies, no adages. 
 
 Nothing can be more artful than the sophism — nothing more 
 
SILENCE AS EVIDENCE OP GUILT. 319 
 
 guarded, more impregnable. Who shall contest the truth of it? 
 Fallacious in the highest degree, no one can say that it is false. 
 It is like one of the two sides of a correct account. So far as it 
 goes, it is all pure justice ; stop there and sink the other side, it 
 is the quintessence of injustice. But so sure as the account thus 
 drawn up by lawyercraft is produced, so sure is one of the sides 
 sunk. 
 
 The English judge — would he dare to put to a guilty defendant 
 so much as a single question that might throw light upon his 
 guilt ■? Not he indeed. The sophism nursed up so carefully by 
 his predecessors for the benefit of the common cause — the 
 sophism here in question, is not of the number of those which a 
 judge can bring forward or put aside as caprice may dictate : 
 firm as a rock, his power would be shaken by it, were he to 
 venture to attack it. 
 
 The policy has still deeper root : it is for this cause that cruel 
 punishments are to be multiplied ; and in particular that the 
 punishment of death (a punishment not good in any case) is, as 
 opportunity serves, to be extended to all cases. The more bar- 
 barous the punishment, the less disposed is the public mind to 
 scrutinize into the pretences by which here and there a victim 
 is preserved from it. 
 
 For this cause amongst so many others, the punishment of 
 death has ever been, and (so long as lawyercraft reigns) will ever 
 continue to be a favourite policy with the English lawyer. 
 
 A connexion, says Cicero, may be traced between all the vir- 
 tues : a connexion still more obvious may be traced between the 
 several branches of injustice. Injustice to the defendant's side, 
 injustice by excess of punishment,— and injustice to the prosecu- 
 tor's side, injustice operating by quibbles, — are consanguineous 
 vices — vices that act in partnership, and play into one another's 
 hands.— vi. 350-351. 
 
 SILENCE AS EVIDENCE OP GUILT. 
 
 Supposing him [the accused] not guilty, such silence cannot 
 but be detrimental to him: supposing him guilty, it cannot but 
 be advantageous to him ; that is to say, supposing the judge 
 were to abstain from drawing the inference which no individual 
 viewing the matter in the same point of view ever fails to draw, 
 on the ground of the known principles of human nature and 
 common sense. 
 
 To answer one way or other, cannot but be in his power. No 
 
320 SILENCE AS EVIDENCE OP GUILT. 
 
 question whatever to which a man, any man whatsoever, is not 
 able to make an intelligible answer of some sort. Quest. What 
 do you know about this business? .^«s. So and so : or, I know 
 nothing about the matter. Whatever be the question, whosoever 
 be the individual to whom it is propounded, an answer to one 
 efiect or the other may in every case be given by him. The 
 answer may be true or false : if false, the case belongs to the 
 head next considered. 
 
 The party is exposed to suspicion — to a strong and serious 
 suspicion of having been really guilty of the oflFence of which h.e 
 stands accused. Followed or not followed by punishment, — the 
 persuasion entertained respecting the truth of the accusation — 
 entertained by every man to whose cognizance the particulars 
 of the examination present themselves, will be the same. The 
 part that will be in general acted on such occasion by a man 
 who feels himself guilty, being made known to all mankind by 
 reason grounded on experience, — so sure as that part is acted 
 by any man, so sure will he be looked upon as guilty by all who 
 know of it : and, being so looked upon, the disrepute attendant 
 upon the offence — the punishment attached to it by the popular, 
 or say the moral sanction — the forfeiture .of a correspondent 
 portion of esteem, and consequent good will, attaches upon him 
 of course. 
 
 Supposing him not guilty, every fact and circumstance that 
 he knows, will contribute (if known) to manifest his innocence : 
 for, that he has not done the act charged upon him, is certain by 
 the supposition. Between facts that are all true, there cannot 
 be any incompatibility, any inconsistency: if, therefore, there 
 be a single true fact with which the fact charged upon him is in- 
 consistent, that fact cannot but be false. Speaking, therefore, 
 from memory, and not, from invention,— by every fact he dis- 
 closes he gives himself an additional chance of manifesting the 
 falsity of the imputation cast upon him. Forbearing to put in 
 for this advantage, he makes manifest by as plain a token as it 
 is possible for a man to display — as plain as he could ■ by any 
 the most direct confession that were to confine itself to general 
 terms, — that the situation he is in, is of that sort that does not 
 suffer a man to put in for that advantage : the situation of him 
 whose memory holds up to him the picture of his own guilt. 
 
 Such are the grounds of the inference, spread out at full length. 
 But where is the individual, male or female, high or low, rich or 
 poor, who, being of ripe years and of a sound mind, is not in the 
 habit of drawing the same inference with equal correctness and 
 security, though by a shorter process, and without the trouble of 
 
CHARACTERISTICS OF ENGLISH BENAL LAW. 321 
 
 clothing it in words ? Where is the master or mistress of a family, 
 who se'eing reason to suspect a child or serva^it of any forbidden 
 act, does not, for the confirmation or removal of such suspicion, 
 employ this species of evidence, and with more confidence than 
 any other'! — Silence is tantamount to confession,is accordingly 
 an observation, which, whether it may happen or not to have 
 been yet received in any collection of proverbs, is repeated and 
 acted upon with not less confidence and certainty, with not less 
 safety, than the most familiar of the sa3angs which have been 
 thus distinguished. 
 
 Could the existence of a set of human beings have been con- 
 ceived, endowed with any particle of the attribute of rationality, 
 in whom a conceit of any Ijind should to such a degree have ex- 
 tinguished the lights of reason and common sense, as to have 
 disposed them to shut the door of justice against this surest, 
 safest, and most satisfactory species of evidencel Yes: two have 
 already been indicated : — English lawyers, — and a people whose 
 boast it is, with eyes hermetically closed, to be led by a hook put 
 into their noses by the interested hands of English lawyers. — vii. 
 25. 
 
 DRAMATIC INTEREST OF CRIMINAL TRIALS. 
 
 Take up an English trial (I speak of trial at common law :) if 
 the subject be interesting, the very evidence is amusing: it is in 
 the form of ordinary conversation ; it is in the dramatic form; it 
 is the drama of real life. 
 
 Take up a history of an old French lawsuit, the evidence is 
 absolutely unreadable : it is the same dull formulary in every 
 case. Of the witness you see nothing — you see nothing but the 
 lawyer : what you see plainly is, that nothing could have really 
 passed exactly as it is there represented to have passed : what 
 you cannot hope to see is, how any thing really passed. Accord- 
 ingly, in the Causes Celebres, you know nothing of the evidence : 
 all that you see — all that you could bear to see, is the account 
 (faithful or unfaithful) given of it by the advocates, together with 
 the observations which they ground on it. — vi. 441. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF ENGLISH PENAL LAW. 
 
 In English criminal law, two opposite, but alike baneful, prin- 
 ciples, — one of thoughtless cruelty, the other of equally thought- 
 
322 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OP ENGLISH PENAL LAW. 
 
 less laxity, — are constantly at work together: the one infusing 
 its poison into legislation, the other into judicature — the one 
 inimical to all enlightened policy, the other to all substantial 
 justice. 
 
 By the one, — at the suggestion of some individual member of 
 the legislature, engrossed by the view of some narrow object, 
 without so much as a thought about any that are on one side of 
 it, — penal laws are heaped upon penal laws, in a progression 
 the ultimate tendency of which is to e.ttend to all cases a mode 
 of punishment too radically incongruous to be fit to be employed 
 in any. Between delinquency and punishment, between tempta- 
 tion and check, between impelling causes and restraining causes, 
 between delinquency and delinquency, between mischief and 
 mischief, — on these and the like occasions, not the faintest idea 
 of proportion seems ever to have made its way into those seats 
 of public sapience. In this state of things, if a mark which is 
 never aimed at should not unfrequently be missed, the wonder 
 will not be great. 
 
 The other principle is employed, in the hands of the judge, 
 to frustrate the laws altogether, by preventing them from being 
 executed: it is the principle which will be so often spoken of in 
 this work,* under the name of the principle of nullification; and 
 its instruments are quirks, or (as they are generally called) deci- 
 sions on grounds foreign to the merits. 
 
 Each, as if by consent, with blind and wayward industry, 
 tampers in his own way with the cords that bind society 
 together: the legislator in straining them, the judge in fretting 
 and enfeebling them: and the farther the advance made in the 
 system of indiscriminating tension, the stronger the passion, and 
 the more plausible the pretence, for equally indiscriminating and 
 still more extensive relaxation. The two functionaries, playing 
 a seemingly adverse part, each in pursuit of his own narrow and 
 sinister interest, play in fact (with or without thinking of it) into 
 each other's hands. The one obtains the praise of wisdom, by 
 the sacrifice of all enlarged and consistent policy — the other 
 the praise of humanity and science, and at no greater expense 
 than the sacrifice of the interests of truth and justice and public 
 security. 
 
 Partly to this desire of ill-earned popularity, partly to the habit 
 of blind adherence to blindly established rules, maybe ascribed 
 the maxim which declares, that when the proceedings of one trial 
 have not been sufficient to warrant the conviction of a prisoner, 
 
 * The Rationale of Evidence. 
 
CHARACTERISTICS OF ENGLISH PENAL LAW. 323 
 
 there shall never be another. If neither truth nor justice were of 
 any value, there would be no objection to this rule ; but, sup- 
 posing eithfer to be worth caring for, the mischievousness, as 
 well as absurdity of it, will be equally incontestable. 
 
 Completeness of the mass of evidence is a point no less essen- 
 tial than correctness. It is accordingly an object at which, by 
 cross-examination and a variety of other means, English proce- 
 dure never ceases to aim : except in so far as its endeavours are 
 stopped and diverted by some blind and sinister prejudice. In 
 cases not penal (except as excepted, — for in English jurispi'udence 
 no general proposition is true till after an indeterminable list of 
 exceptions has been taken out of it) — in cases not penal, to which- 
 soever side the result of one trial has been favourable, the door 
 is open to another. In criminal cases, no: this must not be. If 
 a guilty man has in this way been let loose, there is no harm 
 done : so he might have been by a thousand other causes, none 
 of them having, or so much as professing to have, any regard or 
 relation to the merits. If a man not guilty has been convicted, 
 — no, not then neither : he is to be saved or not, as he can find 
 favour: the credit of saving him is to be taken out of the hands 
 of open and discerning justice, and made a perquisite of, for the 
 benefit of secret yet ostentatious mercy. As if every praise be- 
 stowed on mercy were not purloined from justice; as if the very 
 distinction between justice and mercy had any thing but blind- 
 ness and weakness for its source ; as if such mercy were any 
 thing better than tyranny, with hypocrisy for a covering to it. 
 
 The ways in which justice may be, and every day is, knocked 
 on the head by the instrumentality of this rule, are infinite. Pa- 
 pers for the moment put out of the way — witnesses locked up, 
 kept in a state of drunkenness, sent away on fools' errands, or 
 misinformed as to the appointed day or hour — and so forth. 
 
 Two sorts of occasions alone shall here be brought to view in 
 any detail ; partly on account of the frequency of their occur- 
 rence, partly on account of the facility, as well as the imperative 
 propriety of obviating them. One is the case of character evi- 
 dence — an article to be hereinafter spoken of in the character of 
 a species of circumstantial evidence. * « * * A good cha- 
 racter is given to a guilty defendant by accomplices, whose cha- 
 racter, being inscrutable, must be taken for good. The defend- 
 ant is a thief; and the receivers, who are his customers, come 
 with a panegyric on his honesty. What risk is encountered 
 by such evidence % what door is left opefi for the detection of 
 It — especially at the only period when detection would come in 
 
324 
 
 CHARACrERlSTICS OF ENGLISH PENAL LAW. 
 
 time'! To both questions, the answer is in the negative. To 
 the purpose of the conviction of the guilty principal, — after the 
 verdict by which he stands acquitted, the clearest proof of the 
 worthlessness of the eulogist, the accomplice would come too late, 
 As to punishment for "this species of mendacious testimony, it is, 
 at any rate, without example. To convict a man of mendacity, 
 for an opinion (however false) delivered in general terms,-^to 
 warrant on the part of the judge a persuasion adequate to that 
 purpose, — is not in itself an easy task. 
 
 The other case is that of aliln evidence (as above.) Here, the 
 evidence being in its nature so much the more conclusive, the 
 mischievousness of the factitious bar opposed to the proof of its 
 falsity (where it happens to be false) is the more serious and the 
 more palpable. Conviction, as for the medacity, v/ould here in- 
 deed, in the nature of the case, be as easy and comparatively 
 certain, (understand always in case of prosecution,) as in the 
 other it is difficult and precarious. But, for thd vexation and 
 expense of prosecuting for this excretitious crime, who is there 
 that shall find adequate motives 1 Neither public spirit, nor even 
 vengeance are in general found equal to such a task. A prose- 
 cution of this sort is, if not altogether without example, extremely 
 rare; while unhappily, nothing is more common than the offence. 
 
 Meantime, although punishment as for the perjury were actu- 
 ally to take place, the conviction of the criminal in whose favour it 
 was uttered, and by whom and in whose behalf it was suborned, 
 would be the nearer. Had the crime never been a non-penal 
 one, and the matter in dispute some petty right of property, yes : 
 but upon a criminal, the laws are to go unexecuted, rather than 
 that, to the two superfluous inquiries that have been seen, a ne- 
 cessary one should require to be superadded. 
 
 In regard to remedies, — two, equally obvious, present them- 
 selves ; each alike applicable to both these species of circumstan- 
 tial evidence. 
 
 One is, — in case of the acquittal of a prisoner on the ground 
 of such evidence, the rendering the acquittal provisional : — re- 
 versible on subsequent proof of falsehood on the part of the evi- 
 dence. The other is, the requiring (according to a practice al- 
 ready established in some cases) timely notice to be given of the 
 nature of the evidence so intended to be produced, and of the 
 persons of whose testimony it is to consist. As to the combi- 
 nation of these two securities, or the option to be made between 
 them, these are among the topics which belong not to evidence 
 but to procedure. — vi. 378-379. 
 
PREJUDICES AGAINST INFORMERS. 325 
 
 COMMON INFORMERS. 
 
 An informer is one who, at the invitation of the law, lends his 
 hand to the administration of justice. It follows not, that he- 
 cause a man is ready for a certain price to give true evidence, 
 he is ready to give false evidence for the same price: it follows 
 not, any more than that because a man is ready, in the capa- 
 city of a judge, for a certain salary, to engage to administer jus- 
 tice, and do his part towards the due execution of the laws, he 
 is ready, for the same salary, to engage to practise depredation 
 under the name of justice. It follows not, any more than that 
 because for a given price a man is ready to engage to contribute 
 to the defence of his country against the invasion of a foreign 
 enemy, therefore for the same price he is ready to engage to 
 contribute to the destruction of his country in the service of 
 the enemy. It follows not, that because by swearing truly he 
 expects to gain s610, therefore he will depose falsely for that 
 purpose; nor that, because, at the expense of the same sum ex- 
 pended in costs of prosecution, he seeks the pleasure of revenge 
 at the expense of any person who, no matter on what account, 
 has become the object of his ill-will, — therefore, to gain the end 
 of the prosecution, he will, in the character of witness for the 
 prosecutor, deliver mendacious criminative evidence. 
 
 In various ages and countries, mischief in vast quantity has 
 been operated by men in the character of informers. But the 
 testimony by which in these instances it has been operated, — 
 the testimony which has served as the instrument of the mis- 
 chief, has been, not mendacious, but veracious testimony; the 
 fault has lain, not in the informerSj but in the laws. — vii. 591- 
 592. 
 
 PREJUDICES AGAINST INFORMERS. 
 
 To the rendering the service of the laws in this instance an 
 honourable service, one condition is indeed necessary, which is, 
 that the laws themselves be not such as it would be dishonour- 
 able to make. The expedient therefore will not serve where 
 the law itself is but the tool of despotism. It is only on a free 
 soil that it can manifest its full virtue. It consists not with the 
 Wind and dastardly policy of sleeping laws. It is incompatible 
 with that almost equally shameful negligence which suffers the 
 body of the laws to remain clogged and enfeebled with a heap of 
 obsolete and confessedly useless matter, which, so far from wish- 
 28 
 

 326 PREJUBICES AGAINST SECRET INFORMATION. 
 
 ing to see brought into activity, no man would wish, nor, but 
 for sluggishness and panic terrors, endure, to see exist. Honour 
 can scarcely be expected to lend its sanction to the support of 
 establishments in which abuse is neither avoided in practice, 
 nor so much as disclaimed in principle. What if, instead of 
 being disclaimed, it be openly professed? Honour will with dif- 
 ficulty be brought to lead its sanction to revenue, where the 
 treasure collected in enormous heaps from the labour of all, is 
 styled the property of one, and converted in such large propor- 
 tion into the wages of corruption, or pampered idleness, or un- 
 necessary service. In France where law is, in the language of 
 plain truth, and not in the jargon of fiction, the expression of, 
 the general will, and where profusion if it exist, will be the 
 work of honest oversight, not of knavish system, honour may 
 be given with as littje scruple to the occasional as to the con- 
 stant ministers of justice. — iv. 404. 
 
 PREJUDICES AGAINST SECRET INFORMATION. 
 
 Secrecy indeed, if in all cases equally and absolutely impene- 
 trable, would be a cloak to calumny. What then is to be done? 
 While no indications of that injury appear, keep the veil invio- 
 late: where any such indications betray themselves, remove it, 
 
 Undef such conditions where can be the harm of secrecy? 
 The moment it can be productive of any, there is an end to it. 
 The moment it can be of any use to any body that the informer 
 should be visible, he is brought to light. 
 
 So long as the information is not chargeable with calumny, to 
 what purpose should the author of it be known? If it be true, 
 Instead of harm it has done good: if false, then indeed there 
 has been harm done; but unless it be not only false, but ground- 
 less, even here there is no injury. 
 
 To judge whether a charge, being false, is also groundless, is 
 it necessary to know, in the first instance, who gave the infor- 
 mation? By no means: before you have any concern with the 
 informer, you must look in the first place to the evidence. Wit- 
 nesses, as sych, are known at any rate: if in that character a 
 man calumniates, in that character you may punish him: a veil 
 which covered him in no other character than that of informer 
 is not worth removing, for it has proved no screen to him. If 
 witnesses are altogether wanting, then indeed, but then only, is 
 it material to look for the informer. 
 
 Dragging a man thus to light who wishes to be concealed, can 
 
REASONS FOR A PUBLIC PROSECUTOR. 327 
 
 be of no use but for one or other of two purposes: to subject him 
 to punishment, under the name of punishment: or to subject him 
 to the burden of making satisfaction, which with respect to him 
 is the same thing. If for either purpose discovery be deemed 
 necessary, discovery will be made; if not for either, what use 
 in making it? But the mischief of making it is what we have 
 already seen. 
 
 Great outcries have been made in different countries against 
 secret accusations, and not without great reason: why? Partly 
 because the veil was made so thick as to serve as a cloak to 
 calumny, partly because the laws thus executed were the work 
 and the instruments of despotism. Were the calumny ever 
 so conspicuous, a single person had it in his power to screen it: 
 it might oftentimes be his interest so to do, and in doing so he 
 was irresponsible. Where the law itself is odious, every thing 
 and every person occupied in its service, shares the odium. 
 How many pure and excellent articles in the apparatus of the law 
 have lost their character in this way! and how many bad and 
 unserviceable ones have, by this very unserviceableness, become 
 popular! See the Chapter on Juries. Few popular sentiments 
 that have not their root in reason: still fewer 'that have not 
 spread beyond the reason out of which they grew. 
 
 By whom has the clamour against secrecy been raised? Some- 
 times perhaps by men who, without being delinquents, feared 
 the being treated as such by this means; but by delinquents 
 always, and of course. Had it however been confined to delin- 
 quents, it would not on that account have been always unde- 
 serving of censure. Under a tyranny, honest men are delin- 
 quents: and to do vi^hat can be done towards weakening the 
 power of the laws, is the interest of honest men. If indeed the 
 veil of secrecy is tied down with such tightness as to serve as a 
 cloak to calumny, whatever outcry has been raised against it, 
 has been just in every point of view: in that case all men, delin- 
 quents or not, are interested in its being removed. — iv. 399. 
 
 REASONS FOR A PUBLIC PROSECUTOR. 
 
 In one class of instances it [the Law of England] compels those 
 who inform to prosecute:* in another, by refusing to hear the 
 
 * In the list of private offences raised to the rank of pablie ones, such 
 as, by the punishment annexed to them, it has comprised under the name 
 of felonies: theft, defraudment, robbery, homicide, for example. Penal 
 
328 REASONS FOR A PUBLIC PROSECITTOR. 
 
 testimony of him who prosecutes, it drives from its service the 
 hest species of informer, and with him the voluntary prosecutor, 
 though upon the chance of finding such a servant, no official 
 one being in these instances provided, depends the whole force 
 and efficacy of the law. 
 
 Whence all this discouragement, when encouragement was so 
 much wanted? Not so much from any erroneous views, as 
 from mere oversight and negligence. It has been the natural, 
 and in a manner necessary effect of the omitting to establish a 
 public prosecutor: a function, under every other system perhaps 
 but the English, provided for with an attention little less regular 
 than that bestowed upon the office of Judge. No such provision 
 having been made, individuals must be trepanned into the service 
 of justice, or justice, instead of being so often left undone, would 
 scarce ever be done. In this service, as in others, if you have 
 no regular force on foot, you must put up with volunteers or 
 pressed men, and get them as you can. What in the military 
 service is regarded as abuse, is the regular and sole practice in 
 this branch of the legal. You lie in wait for a man, till his 
 peace has received a ■ground from injury; you catch him intoxi- 
 cated with passion, and in that state you enlist him into a 
 service, of which, in addition to the burden, he is to bear all the 
 expense, whether he has funds for it, or whether he has none. 
 You single out the distressed: and, as if unmerited suffering had 
 not been sufficiently severe, you load them and squeeze them, 
 not only for the benefit of thqgpubhc at large, but to help to 
 pamper a swarm of titled idlersTTvho, without so much as the 
 pretence of stirring a finger, are gorged with wealth, which in 
 France would be deemed excessive if given in recompense for 
 the greatest service. Abuse is thus interwoven with abuse: and 
 each gives shade and protection to the other. Out of extortion 
 and peculation grow inaccessible justice and paralytic laws.^ 
 iv. 402-403. 
 
 justice is by tlils means a kind of trap in which honest men are caught, 
 in their pursuit of malefactors. The injurer is ruined by the sentence, 
 the party injured by the expense of purchasing it. Were prudence and 
 knowledge to prevail over passion and ignorance, the law would in these 
 cases, as in so many others, be a dead letter. What scanty measure of 
 efEcacy is possessed by the main body of the laws, depends in no small 
 degree on the ignorance in which the people are kept with respect to the 
 abuses of all sorts which compose the system of procedure. 
 
 If the offence happens not to have been raised to the rank of felony, 
 though in its nature and mischief not, in the smallest degree different from 
 those that are, (as is the case with various sorts of thefts and frauds,) the 
 obligation to prosecute does not extend to it. 
 
CONVICTIONS OP JUSTICES OP PEACE. 329 
 
 DIALOGUE 'ON THE QUASHING OP THE CONVIC- 
 TIONS OF JUSTICES OF PEACE. 
 
 To make one instance serve as a sample for others by hun- 
 dreds and by thousands, let us turn to the practice in regard to 
 convictions: by which word, are presented to the eye of a law- 
 yer, convictions pronounced by justices of the peace acting out 
 of sessions, for delinquencies referred to their cognizance by 
 particular acts of parliament. 
 
 Tr3nng the cause under the forms or no-forms, of natural pro- 
 cedure, of pure and universal justice, the magistrate pronounces 
 the defendant guilty: and, to ground the further proceedings, 
 signs a record or memorandum, certifying the existence of the 
 decision so pronounced. At the instance of the convict, the 
 court of King's Bench, without so much as pretending to know 
 any thing about the facts, quash the conviction, liberate the de- 
 fendant, set at nought the statute. 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — Liberate the delinquent, and without evidence, 
 after he has been convicted, and by lawful authority, upon evi- 
 dence ? Pray, on what ground is this done f 
 
 Lmvyer. — On what ground ? Because the magistrate had 
 not set forth the evidence. 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — Why should he have set forth the evidence 1 
 Had the legislature ordered him to set forth the evidence 1 
 Lawyer. — No : it was not ne essary. 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — What, then ? had any body else ordered him 1 
 Lawyer. — No : it was not necessary. 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — What! not even you? you, who quash his 
 decision for not having set forth the evidence ? By what inge- 
 nuity was he to have discovered this to be your will and plea- 
 sure? 
 
 Lawyer. — We never meant that he should discover any such 
 thing. Can you be so weak as to suppose we did? Are we such 
 simpletons, do you suppose, that, when it is really our wish a man 
 should do a thing which he would have no motive to do unless 
 he knew it to be our pleasure, — that, in such a case, we should 
 really omit to make him know that it was our pleasure ? Did 
 you ever know an old woman silly to such a degree of silliness ? 
 No, sir : our wish, and our determination was to quash the de- 
 cision at any rate. To quash a just decision, or to do any thing 
 else that ought not to be done, a pretence, you know (or yofl 
 ought to know) we must always have. As to what the pretence 
 is, it matters very little. If the evidence had been set forth, we 
 
 28* 
 
330 CONVICTIONS OF JUSTICES OP PEACE. 
 
 should have found another. When we have a mind to get rid 
 of a decision, do you think we are ever at a loss ? 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — I must confess, I do not very well see how that 
 misfortune should ever happen to you. But, as to the quashing 
 of the conviction, pray what may have been the use of if! 
 
 Lawyer. — Use of if! Abundance of uses. 
 
 1. In the first place, this was making so much business. 
 Down comes the money — quash goes the conviction, like a 
 snail under our feet. 
 
 2. In the next place, we throw cold water on a bad precedent. 
 The natural system is the rival and mortal enemy of our sys- 
 tem : we abhor it : we do what we can to crush it : by its en- 
 croachment it robs us ; by its justice it puts us to shame. 
 
 The Turks have a prophecy that some day or other the Chris- 
 tians will drive them out of Europe. We have something be- 
 tween a hobgoblin dream and a prophecy, that one of these days 
 the natural system will drive ours out of Westminster Hall. Our 
 wish is to stave off the fatal day as long as possible. 
 
 By thus quashing, we turn the arts of the enemy against him- 
 self: he lets oif a clause, to rob us of our business ; and out of 
 that very clause we make more business. 
 
 3. In the third place .... 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — ph, a truce ! a truce ! I see very well — any 
 man who will not sfiut his eyes may see with half an eye — how 
 well you understand your business. • Only one question more : — 
 Is it a rule with you, pray, to quash every conviction that is 
 brought to you to quash ? 
 
 Lawyer. — No : that would not be good policy. 
 
 1 . In the first place, if this were the case, sooner or later the 
 legislator might find us out, and grow angry. 
 
 2. In the next place, it is not at all necessary ; every alternate 
 one does just as well : we do not stand counting ; there would 
 be no use in it: but that proportion, or thereabouts : the nearer 
 to it the better, if there be any difference. 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — But, if every conviction were to be quashed 
 without exception would not this crush the designs of the enemy 
 more effectually T Would it not humble him still more, display 
 the weakness of the natural system, and cure the people of 
 having recourse to it ? 
 
 Lawyer. — Possibly, in some degree : but that is not worth 
 thinking about. Not to insist on the danger, of which you have 
 a glimpse already, — if in this way we served a distant end, we 
 shduld disserve the immediate one. If men did not see somewhat 
 
CONVICTIONS OF JUSTICES OF PEACE. 331 
 
 of a chance of having their convictions held good, there would 
 be none defended: all that business would be lost. 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — Oh yes, I see, I see: your world is like the 
 philosopher's: nothing without its sufficient reason. But the 
 legislature, all this while, what have they said to all thisl 
 
 Lawyer. — Said] Nothing at all. Do what we will to them, 
 they never say any thing to us; they never have been used to it. 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — So then you have plenty of business in this 
 line: a rare trade, this quashing trade! 
 
 Lawyer. — No; no great things after all: the rogues have al- 
 most grown, too cunning for us. Rob us of it, to be sure, they 
 durst not; but, little by little, they have found out a way of 
 stealing it from us. 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — Steal business from the law? Parliament 
 strip lawyers of their business? Oh, terrible! this is the very 
 worst of larceny: this is con/ra jjacejw with a vengeance. Sad 
 usage indeed! But pray, how do they manage it? 
 
 Lawyer. — They provide a form, a skeleton form: and then, 
 say they, every conviction that is according to that form is good. 
 The form is a skeleton form with blanks, in it, such as are in 
 Burn's Justice: the justice has nothing to do but to fill up the 
 blanks: the business is so easy, a viper might as soon bite a hole 
 in a file as any of us find a flaw in it. Now what do you say 
 to this? 
 
 Non-Lawyer. — Say? why, that you are insidiously and bar- 
 barously dealt with. But you have one thing for your comfort. 
 
 Lawyer. — Comfort, indeed! What comfort? where is it? 
 
 NorirLawyer. — Nay, you have two comforts. 
 
 One is, that of seeing how much they are afraid of you: that 
 if they do take business from you, they take it not as robbers, 
 but as thieves. Why think of the molehill they have filched 
 from you? Think rather of the mountains they have left, and 
 dare not meddle with. 
 
 Another is (for it shows itself through your lamentations,) 
 that the old business is still left to you: so that the damage after 
 all is rather lucrum cessans than damnum emergens; the busi- 
 ness does not increase so fast as it might; that is all. 
 
 Lawyer. — Alas! you are very much mistaken. From the old 
 statutes there may be a remnant of business left, it is true: but it 
 grows less and less every day. Every day brings new statutes, 
 spreading over the old ground, and covering it with these cursed 
 forms: by and by there won't be a spot left in which a flaw will 
 be to be found. 
 
 Besides that the stock of flaws and quibbles is almost ex- 
 
332 HOW TO ESTIMATE THE DANGER PROM OFFENCES. 
 
 hausted; and (to let you into a secret) the people begin to find 
 us out: we cannot go on quashing through thick and thin, as 
 ■we used to do. We are forced to draw up: we are forced, little 
 by little, to turn liberalists. There is that passage in Hale 
 against quibbles. It haunts us: it follows like our shadow. It 
 will blow us all up one of these days. — vii. 314-315. 
 
 HOW TO ESTIMATE THE DANGER FROM 
 OFFENCES. 
 
 Rule 1. The strength of the temptation being given, the mis- 
 chievousness of the disposition manifested by the enterprise, is 
 as the apparent mischievousness of the act. 
 
 Thus, it would show a more depraved disposition, to murder 
 a man for a reward of a guinea, or falsely to charge him with a 
 robbery for the same reward, than to obtain the same sum from 
 him by simple theft: the trouble he would have to take, and the 
 risk he would have to run, being supposed to stand on the same 
 footing in the one case as in the other. 
 
 Rule 2. The apparent mischievousness of the act being given, 
 a man^s disposition is the more depraved, the slighter the 
 temptation is by which he has been overcome. 
 
 Thus, it shows a more depraved and dangerous disposition, 
 if a man kill another out of mere sport, as the Emperor of Mo- 
 rocco, Muley Mahomet, is said to have done great numbers; 
 than out of revenge, as Sylla and Marius did thousands; or in 
 the view of self-preservation, as Augustus killed many; or even 
 for lucre, as the same emperor is said to have killed some. And 
 the effects of such a depravity, on that part of the public which 
 is apprized of it, run in the same proportion. From Augustus, 
 some persons only had to fear, under some particular circum- 
 stances: from Muley Mahomet, every man had to fear at all times. 
 
 Rule 3. The apparent mischievousness of the act being given, 
 the evidence which it affords of the depravity of a man's dispo- 
 sition is the less conclusive, the stronger the temptation is by 
 which he has been overcome. 
 
 Thus, if a poor man, who is ready to die with hunger, steal a 
 loaf of bread, it is a less explicit sign of depravity, than if a rich 
 man were to commit a theft to the same amount. It will be ob- 
 served, that in this rule all that is said is, that the evidence of 
 depravity is in this case the less conclusive: it is not said that the 
 depravity is positively the less. For in this case it is possible, 
 for any thing that appears to the contrary, that the theft might 
 have been committed, even had the temptation been not so strong. 
 
HOW THE MISCHIEF OF AN ACT AFFECTED. 333 
 
 In this case, the alleviating circumstance is only a matter of pre- 
 sumption ; in the former, the aggravating circumstance is a mat- 
 ter of certainty. 
 
 Rule 4. Where the motive is of the dissocial kind, the appa- 
 rent mischievousness of the act, and the strength of the tempta- 
 tion, being given, the depravity is as the degree of deliberation 
 with which it is accompanied. 
 
 For in every man, be his disposition ever so depraved, the so- 
 cial motives are those which, wherever the self-regarding ones 
 stand neuter, regulate and determine the general tenor of his life. 
 If the dissocial motives are put in action, it is only in particular 
 circumstances, and on particular occasions ; the gentle but con- 
 stant force of the social motives being for a while subdued. The 
 general and standing bias of every man's nature is, therefore, 
 towards that side to which the force of the social motives would 
 determine him to adhere. This being the case, the force of the 
 social motives tends continually to put an end to that of the dis- 
 social ones ; as, in natural bodies, the force of friction tends to 
 put an end to that which is generated by impulse. Time, then, 
 which wears away the force of the dissocial motives, adds to that 
 of the social. The longer, therefore, a man continues, on a given 
 occasion, under the dominion of the dissocial motives, the more 
 convincing is the proof that has been given of his insensibility 
 to the force of the social ones. 
 
 Thus, it shows a worse disposition, where a man lays a delibe- 
 rate plan for beating his antagonist, and beats him accordingly, 
 than if he were to beat him upon the spot, in consequence of a 
 sudden quarrel ; and worse again, if, after having had him a long 
 while together in his power, he beats him at intervals, and at his 
 leisure. — i. 68. 
 
 HOW INTENTION, MOTIVE, DISPOSITION, &c., AFFECT 
 THE MISCHIEF OP AN ACT. 
 
 Case 1. Where the act is so completely unintentional, as to be 
 altogether involuntary. In this case it is attended with no second- 
 ary mischief at all. 
 
 A bricklayer is at work upon a house : a passenger is walking 
 in the street below. A fellow-workman comes and gives the 
 bricklayer a violent push, in consequence of which he falls upon 
 the passenger and hurts him. It is plain there is nothing in this 
 event that can give other people, who may happen to be in the 
 street, the least reason to apprehend any thing in future on the 
 
334 HOW tHE MISCHIEF OP AN ACT AFFECTED. 
 
 part of the man who fell, whatever there may be with regard to 
 the man who pushed hira. 
 
 Case 2. Where the act, though not unintentional, is unadvised, 
 insomuch that the mischievous part of the consequences is unin- 
 tentional, but the unadvisedness is attended with heedlessness. 
 In this case the act is attended with some small degree of second- 
 ary mischief, in proportion to the degree of heedlessness. 
 
 A groom being on horseback, and riding through a frequented 
 street, turns a corner at full pace, and rides over a passenger, 
 who happens to be going by. It is plain that, by this behaviour 
 of the groom, some degree of alarm may be produced, less or 
 greater, according to the degree of heedlessness betrayed by him: 
 according to the quickness of his pace, the fulness of the street, 
 and so forth. He has done mischief, it may be said, by his care- 
 lessness, already : who knows but that on other occasions the 
 like cause may produce the like effect ■! 
 
 Case 3. Where the act is misadvised with respect to a circum- 
 stance which, had it existed, would /«% have excluded or (what 
 comes to the same thing) outweighed the primary mischief: and 
 there is no rashness in the case. In this case the act is attended 
 with no secondary mischief at all. 
 
 It is needless to multiply examples any farther. 
 
 Case 4. Where the act is misadvised with respect to a circum- 
 stance which would have excluded or counterbalanced the pri- 
 mary mischief in part, but not entirely : and ' still there is no 
 rashness. In this case the act is attended with some degree of 
 secondary mischief, in proportion to that part of the primary 
 which remains unexcluded or uncounterbalanced. 
 
 Case 5. Where the act is misadvised with respect to a circum- 
 stance which, had it existed, would have excluded or counter- 
 balanced the primary mischief entirely, or in part : and there is 
 a degree of rashness in the supposal. In this case, the act is also 
 attended with a farther degree of secondary mischief, in propor- 
 tion to the degree of rashness. 
 
 Case 6. Where the consequences are completely intentional, 
 and there is no missupposal in the case. In this case the second- 
 ary mischief is at the highest. 
 
 Thus much- with regard to intentionality and consciousness. 
 We now come to consider in what manner the secondary mis- 
 chief is affected by the nature of the motive. 
 
 Where an act is pernicious in its primary consequences, the 
 secondary mischief is not obliterated by the goodness of the mo- 
 tive ; though the motive be of the best kind. For, notwithstand- 
 
HOW THE MISOHIEK Of AN ACT AFFECTED. 335 
 
 ing the goodness of the motive, an act, of which the primary con- 
 sequences are pernicious, is produced by it in the instance in 
 question, by the supposition. It may, therefore, in other in- 
 stances : although this is not so likely to happen from a good 
 motive as from a bad one.* 
 
 An act which, though pernicious in its primary consequences, 
 is rendered in other respects beneficial upon the whole, by vir- 
 tue of its secondary consequences, is not changed back again, 
 and rendered pernicious upon the whole by the badness of the 
 motive : although the motive be of the worst kind.t 
 
 But when not only the primary consequences of an act are 
 pernicious, but, in other respects, the secondary likewise, the se- 
 condary mischief may be aggravated by the nature of the mo- 
 tive : so much of that mischief, to wit, as respects the future 
 behaviour of the same person. 
 
 * An act' of homicide, for instance, is not rendered innocent, much less 
 beneficial, merely by its proceeding from a principle of religion, of ho- 
 nour, (that is, of love of reputation,) or even of benevolence. When Ra- 
 vaillac assassinated Henry IV., it was from a principle of religion. But 
 this did not so much as abate from the mischief of the act : it even ren- 
 dered the act still more mischievous, for a reason that we shall see pre- 
 sently, than if it had originated from a principle of revenge. When the 
 conspirators against the late King of Portugal attempted to assassinate 
 him, it is said to have been fron^ a principle of honour. But this, whe- 
 ther it abated or no, will certainly not be thought to have outweighed 
 the mischief of the act. Had a son uf Ravaillac's merely on the score of 
 filial afiTection, and not in consequence of any participation in his crime, 
 put him to death in order to rescue him from the severer hands of justice, 
 the motive, although it should not be thought to afibrd any proof of a, 
 mischievous disposition, and should, even in case of punishment, have 
 made such rescuer an object of pity, would hardly have made the act of 
 rescue a beneficial one. 
 
 t The prosecution of offences, for instance, proceeds, most commonly 
 from one o' other, or both together, of two motives, the one of which is 
 of the self-regarding, the other of the dissocial kind : viz. pecuniary in- 
 terest, and ill-will; from pecuniary interest, for instance, whenever 
 the obtaining pecuniary amends for damage suffered is one end 
 of the prosecution. It is common enough indeed to hear men speak 
 of prosecutions undertaken from public spirit ; which is a branch 
 of the principle of benevolence. Far be it from me to deny that such 
 a principle may very frequently be an ingredient in the sum of mo- 
 tives, by which men are engaged in a proceeding of this nature. 
 But whenever such a proceeding is engaged in from the sole influence 
 of public spirit, uncombined with the least tincture of self-interest, 
 or ill-will, it must be acknowledged to be a. proceeding of the heroic 
 kind. Now acts of heroism are, in the very essence of them, but rare : 
 for if they were common, they would not be acts of heroism. But prose- 
 cutions for crimes are very frequent, and yet, unless, in very particular 
 circumstances indeed, they are never otherwise than beneficial. 
 
336 HOW THE MISCHIEF OF AN ACT AFFECTED. 
 
 It is not from the worst kind of motive, however, that the se- 
 condary mischief of an act receives its greatest aggravation. 
 
 The aggravation which the secondary mischief of an act, in 
 as far as it respects the future behaviour of the same person, re- 
 ceives from the nature of a motive in an individual case, is as the 
 tendency of the motive to produce, on the part of the same per- 
 son, acts of the like bad tendency with that of the act in question. 
 
 The tendency of a motive to produce acts of the like kind, on 
 the part of any given person, is as the strength and constancy of 
 its influence on that person, as applied to the production of such 
 effects. 
 
 The tendency of a species of motive to give birth to acts of 
 any kind, among persons in general, is as the strength, constancy, 
 and extensiveness of its influence, as applied to the production 
 of such effects. 
 
 Now, the motives whereof the influence is at once most power- 
 ful, most constant, and most extensive, are the motives of physi- 
 cal desire, the love of wealth, the love of ease, the love of life, and 
 the fear of pain : all of them self-regarding motives. The motive 
 of displeasure, whatever it may be in point of strength and ex- 
 tensiveness, is not near so constant in its influence (the case of 
 mere antipathy excepted) as any of the other three. A perni- 
 cious act, therefore, when committed through vengeance, or other- 
 wise through displeasure, is not near so mischievous as the same 
 pernicious act, when committed by force of any one of those other 
 motives.* 
 
 As to the motive of religion, whatever it may sometimes prove 
 to be in point of strength and constancy, it is not, in point of 
 
 * It is for this reason that a threat, or other personal outrage, when com- 
 mitted on a stranger, in pursuance of a scheme of robbery , is productive of 
 more mischief in society, and accordingly is, perhaps, every where more 
 severely punished.'than an outrage of the same kind offered to an acquaint- 
 ance, in prosecution of a scheme of vengeance. No man is always in a 
 rage; but, at all times, every man, more or less, loves money. Accord, 
 ingly, although a man, by his quarrelsomeness, should for once have been 
 engaged in a bad action, he may, nevertheless, remain a long while, or 
 even his whole lifetime, without engaging in another bad action of the 
 same kind : for he may very well remain his whole lifetime without .en- 
 gaging in so violent a quarrel : nor, at any rate, will he quarrel with more 
 than one, or a few people at a time. But if a man, by his love of money, 
 has once been engaged in a bad action, — such as a scheme of robbery, — he 
 may at any time, by the influence of the same motive, be engaged in 
 acts of the same degree of enormity. For, take men throughout, if a 
 man loves money to a certain degree to-day, it is probable that he will 
 love it, at least in equal degree, to-morrow. And if a man is disposed to 
 acquire it in that way, he will find inducement to rob, wheresoever and 
 whensoever there are people to be robbed. 
 
CHARACTER INFERRED FROM OFFENCES. 337 
 
 extent, so universal, especially in its application to acts of a mis- 
 chievous nature, as any of the three preceding motives. It may, 
 however, be as universal in a particular state, or in a particular 
 district of a particular state. It is liable, indeed, to be very irre- 
 gular in its operations. It is apt, hovs^ever, to be frequently as 
 powerful as the motive of vengeance, or, indeed, any other mo- 
 tive whatsoever. It will sometimes, even, be more powerful than 
 any other motive. It is, at any rate, much more constant.* A 
 pernicious act, therefore, when committed through the motive of 
 religion, is more mischievous than when committed through the 
 motive of ill-will. 
 
 Lastly, The secondary mischief, — to wit, so much of it as hath 
 respect to the future behaviour of the same person, — is aggra- 
 vated or lessened by the apparent depravity or beneficence of 
 his disposition : and that in the proportion of such apparent de- 
 pravity or beneficence. — i. 74-76. 
 
 THE CHARACTER OP THE OFFENDER AS INFER- 
 RED FROM THE NATURE OF AN OFFENCE. 
 
 Let us examine the grounds of aggravation which may be 
 drawn from this source. 
 
 1. The less the party injured was in a condition to defend 
 himself, the more strongly the sentiment of natural compassion 
 ought to act. The laws of honour come to the support of this 
 instinct of pity, and make it an imperious duty to succour the 
 weak, and to spare him who is no longer able to resist. First 
 indication of a dangerous character — Weakness oppressed. 
 
 2. If weakness alone ought to awaken compassion, the appear- 
 ance of a sufiering individual ought to act in this direction with 
 a double force. The simple refusal of relief to the distressed, 
 raises a presumption little favourable to the character of an indi- 
 vidual : but what must his character be, who seizes the moment 
 of calamity for the purpose of increasing the anxiety of an 
 
 * If a man happen to take it into his head to assassinate, with his own 
 hands or with the sword of justice, those whom he calls heretics, — that is, 
 people who think, or perhaps only speak, differently upon a subject which 
 neither party understands, — he will be as much inclined to do this at one 
 time as at another. Fanaticism never sleeps: it is never glutted : it is 
 never stopped by philanthropy ; for it makes a merit of trampling on phi. 
 lanthropy : it is never stopped by conscience; for it has pressed conscience 
 into its service. Avarice, lost, and vengeance, have piety, benevolence, ho- 
 nour ; fanaticism has nothing to oppose it. 
 29 
 
338 THE CHARACTER OF THE OFFENDER 
 
 afflicted mind ; tlie moment of disgrace, in order to render it 
 more bitter by a new affront ; the moment of indigence, for the 
 purpose of entirely stripping its victims l Second indication of 
 a dangerous character — Distress aggravated. 
 
 3. U is an essential branch of moral policy, that those who 
 have been accustomed to reflection, and who may be presumed 
 to possess wisdom and experience, should be treated with respect 
 by those who have not acquired the same habits, or possessed 
 the same advantages of education. This species of superiority 
 is generally received by the more elevated ranks from those be- 
 low them ; by old persons from younger persons of the same 
 rank ; and by certain professions set apart for the public instruc- 
 tion. There exists among the mass of the people certain senti- 
 ments of deference and respect, in relation to these distinctions ; 
 and this respect, -greatly useful in repressing without effort the 
 seductive passions, is one of the best foundations for manners and 
 laws. Third indication of a dangerous character — Respect to- 
 wards superiors disregarded.* 
 
 4. When the motives which have led to the commission of an 
 offence haVe been comparatively light and frivolous, the senti- 
 ments of honour and benevolence must have had but little force. 
 If the man who is urged by an imperious desire of vengeance to 
 transgress the laws of humanity is esteemed dangerous, what 
 should be thought of him who gives way to acts of ferocity, from 
 a simple motive of curiosity, of imitation, or of amusement? 
 Fourth indication of a dangerous character — Gratuitous cruelty. 
 
 5. Time is particularly favourable to the development of the 
 tutelary motives. During the- first assault of passion, as under a 
 thunder- stroke, the sentiments of virtue may yield for a moment : 
 but if the heart is not perverted, reflection will soon restore them 
 to their first force, and establish their triumph. If a sufficiently 
 long time elapse between the conception of a crime and its ac- 
 complishment, it isan unequivocal proof of matured and consoli- 
 dated wickedness. Fifth indication of a dangerous character — 
 Premeditation. 
 
 6. The number of accomplices is another mark of depravity : 
 concert supposes reflection. The union of many persons against 
 
 * It was from not having known the utility, not to say the necessity, of 
 this subordination, that the French fell, during the revolution, into that 
 excess of folly which delivered iheni up to unheard-of evils, and which has 
 carried desolation to the four quarters of the world : it was because they 
 had no superiors in France, that there was no security. The principle of 
 equality includes within itself that of anarchy : it is the total of the small 
 masses of particular influence which sustains the grand barrier of the 
 laws against the torrent of the passions. 
 
INFERRED FROM THE OFFENCE. 339 
 
 a single innocent person also displays a cruel cowardice. Sixth 
 indication of a dangerous character — Connph-aci/i 
 * To these causes of aggravation may be added two other 
 causes not so easily classed : falsehood and violation of confidence. 
 Falsehood stamps a character with a deep and degrading stfiin, 
 which even the most brilliant qualities cannot efface. Public 
 opinion is right in this respect. Truth is one of the first wants 
 of man.; it is one of the elements of our exiijtence; necessary as 
 the light of the day to us. At every moment of our lives, we 
 are obliged to build our judgments, and to direct our conduct, 
 upon the knowledge of facts, of which there are only a few that 
 can pass under our own observation. Hence there follows the 
 meet absolute necessity for our trusting to the reports of others. 
 If falsehood is mingled with these reports, ourjudgraents become 
 erroneous, our progress faulty, our hopes deceived: we live in a 
 state of unquiet distrust, and know not where to seek for securi- 
 ty. In a word, falsehood includes the principle of every evil, 
 since it would bring in its train the dissolution of human society. 
 The importance of truth is so great, that the least violation of 
 its laws, even in trifling matters, always draws after it a certain 
 danger: the slightest wandering is an attack upon the respect 
 due to it: the first transgression facilitates the second, by fami- 
 liarizing the odious idea of a lie. If the evil of a falsehood is so 
 great in things which are unimportant in themselves, what will 
 it be in those greater occasions when it serves as an instrument 
 of crime? 
 
 Falsehood is sometimes an essential circumstance in a crime: 
 sometimes simply an accessory. It is necessarily comprised in 
 peijury, and in fraudulent acquisition, and all its modifications. 
 In other offences, it is only collateral and accidental. It is only 
 by relation to these last that it can furnish a separate cause of 
 aggravation. 
 
 Violation of confidence refers to a particular position; to a 
 power confided, which imposes on the delinquent an obliga- 
 tion which he has violated. It may sometimes be considered 
 as the principal offence, sometimes only as an accessory offence. 
 It is not necessary here to consider the details. > 
 
 We may here make one general observation with respect to 
 'all these sources of aggravation. Although they all furnish un- 
 favourable indications as to the character of the offender, this is 
 not a reason for proportionably augmenting his punishment. It 
 is sufiicient if a certain modification be given to it, which shall 
 have some analogy with this accessory offence, and which shall 
 serve to waken in the minds of the citizens a salutary antipathy 
 against this aggravating circumstance. This will become more 
 
340 
 
 HONOUR AMONG THIEVES. 
 
 clear, when we treat of the methods of rendering punishments 
 characteristic* 
 
 HONOUp j^MONG THIEVES. 
 
 In the ordinary intercourse of life, fidelity to engagements is 
 a virtue: why? because in the ordinary intercourse of life, among 
 the engagements taken there is not one in a thousand, the execu- 
 tion of which is not beneficial to the community upon the whole. 
 That feature of negative sociableness which disposes men not to 
 obstruct or thwart one another in their enterprises, even this, 
 too, is, as far as it goes, a virtue: why? because in ordinary life, 
 among the enterprises engaged in, great and small, there is not 
 one in a million, the success of which is not beneficial to the 
 community as before. But for the same reason that, in the case of 
 innocent and beneficial engagements and enterprises, fidelity and 
 disposition to mutual adherence are virtues: in the case of cri- 
 minal ones they are vices. A sort of honour may be found 
 (according to a proverbial saying) even among thievef:. Good, 
 as an observation; that is, true in fact; but bad if the fact be re- 
 garded with complacency; and either the thieves themselves, 
 or the society infested by them, are considered as being the 
 better for it. That honour does exist among thieves is not to 
 be doubted; for thieves are a society to one another, and it is 
 only by honour that any society can be kept together. But to 
 regard such honour with complacency, to speak with repro- 
 bation of every instance of the absence of it, to speak with 
 
 * An interesting question in morals and legislation arises liere — 
 If an individual perform actions which th^public opinion condemns, and 
 which, according to the principles of utility, it ought not to condemn, can 
 an unfavourable indication be drawn from hence with respect to the cha- 
 racter of that individual 1 
 
 I reply, that a good man, though he submit in general to the tribunal 
 of public opinion, may reserve to himself the right of private judgment in 
 particular cases, when the judgment of this tribunal appears to him op- 
 posed to his reason and his happiness, or when it exacts from him a pain- 
 ful sacrifice, without any rdal utility to any person. Take a Jew to Lis- 
 bon, for example: he dissimulates, be violates the laws, he braves an opi- 
 nion which has in its favour all the force of the popular sanction : is he, 
 therefore, the most wicked of men ? Do you believe him capable of every 
 crime? Will he be a slanderer, a thief, a perjurer, if he could hope not 
 to be discovered? No: a Jew in Portugal is not more addicted to these 
 crimes than others. A monk allows himself in secret to violate some of 
 the absurd and painful observances of his convent: does it follow, that he 
 would be a deceitful and dangerous man, ready to violate his word upon 
 a point in which probity was concerned? Such a conclusion w(^uld bo 
 very ill founded. Good sense, enlightened by interest, is sufficient to de- 
 tect a general error, and does not on that account lead to the contempt of 
 essential laws. 
 
PECUNIARY PUNISHMENTS OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 341 
 
 eulogium of every instance of the manifestation of it, is in- 
 deed a natural enough prejudice, but, in some of its con- 
 sequences, a very pernicious one. Without honour, society 
 even among thieves could not exist; — true, but the thing 
 to be wished for is, that among thieves, in so far as they are 
 thieves, society never should exist. Of thieves, as of other men, 
 the thing to be desired is, that they should observe the laws of 
 honour in some cases, not observe them in others : observe them 
 on the occasion of their honest engagements ; not observe them 
 on occasion of their dishonest ones: observe them in their ordi- 
 nary dealings with other men, not observe them in their deal- 
 ings with one another in their capacity of thieves. By what- 
 soever causes produced, infidehty to criminal engagements is 
 repentance ; and wherein is a man the better for being without 
 repentance 1 To give birth to such infidelity — to purchase such 
 repentance — is the object of every reward offered for the dis- 
 covery of accomplises in crimes. To censure a man for the ac- 
 ceptance of any such offer — to commend him for the refusal of 
 it — is to employ so much of the force of the popular or moral 
 sanction, in a direction diametrically opposite to that of the ac- 
 tion of the political sanction — ; diametrically opposite to the in- 
 terest of society — of every society, but that of malefactors. — iv. 
 225-226. 
 
 INEPFICACY OF REWARD TO RESTRAIN PROM CRIME. 
 A young king, in the first ardour for improvement, having 
 resolved to purge his kingdom from all crimes, was not satisfied 
 with this alone. His natural gentleness was shocked at the idea 
 of employing punishment. He determined to abolish it altogether, 
 and to efiect every thing by reward. He began with the crime 
 of theft : but in a short time, all his subjects were entitled to re- 
 ward ; all of them were honest. Every day they were entitled 
 to new rewards; their honesty remained inviolate. A scheme 
 for preventing smuggling was proposed to him. " Wise king," 
 it was said, " for every penny that ought to be paid into your 
 treasury, give two, and the hydra is vanquished." The victory 
 was certain ; but he perceived that, like that of Pyrrhus, it would 
 be somewhat costly. — ii. 208. 
 
 THE PECUNIARY PUNISHMENTS OF THE ANGLO- 
 SAXONS. 
 It is a well-known adage, though it is to be hoped not a true 
 one, that every man has his price. It is commonly meant of a 
 
 29* 
 
342 DEATH PDNISHMENT. 
 
 man's virtue. This saying, though in a very different sense, was 
 strictly verified by some of the Anglo-Saxon laws : by which a 
 fixed price was set, not upon a man's virtue indeed, but upon 
 his life : that of the sovereign himself among the rest. For 200 
 shillings you might have killed a peasant : for six times as much, 
 a nobleman: for six and thirty-times as much you might have 
 killed the king.* A king in those days was worth exactly 7,200 
 shillings. If, then, the heir ,to the throne, for example, grew 
 weary of waiting for it, he had a secure and legal way of grati- 
 fying his impatience : he had but to kill the king with one hand, 
 and pay himself with the other, and all was right. An Earl 
 Godwin, or a Duke Streon, could have bought the lives of a 
 whole dynasty. It is plain that if ever a king in those days died 
 in his bed, he must have had something else, besides this law, to 
 thank for it. This being the production of a remote and barba- 
 rous age, the absurdity of it is presently recognised : but, jjpon 
 examination, it would be found, that the freshest laws of the most 
 civilized nations are continually falling into the same error.f 
 This, in short, is the case wheresoever the punishment is fixed 
 while the profit of delinquency is indefinite : or, to speak more 
 precisely, where the punishment is limited to such a mark, that 
 the profit of delinquency may reach beyond it. — i. 87. 
 
 DEATH PUNISHMENT COMPARED WITH PER- 
 PETUAL IMPRISONMENT. 
 
 It appears to me, that the contemplation of perpetual impri- 
 sonment, accompanied with hard labour and occasional solitary 
 confinement, would produce a deeper impression on the minds 
 of persons in whom it is more eminently desirable that that impres- 
 sion should be produced, than even death itself We have already 
 observed, that to them life does not offer the same attractions as it 
 does to persons of innocent and industrious habits. Their very 
 profession leads them continually to put their existence, in jeo- 
 pardy ; and intemperance, which is almost natural to them, in- 
 flames their brutal and uncalculating courage. All the circum- 
 stances that render death less formidable to them, render labo- 
 rious restraint proportionably more irksome. The more their 
 habitual state of existence is independent, wandering, and hostile 
 to steady and laborious industry, the more they will be terrified 
 by a state of passive submission and of laborious confinement, a 
 
 * Wilkin's Leg. Anglo-Sax. pp. 71, 72. 
 
 + See in particular the English Slatute laws Ihrnujrlioiit, Buo.aparte^s 
 Penal Code, and the recently enacted or not enacted Spanish Penal Codp. 
 
PUNISHMENT BY DISGRACE. 343 
 
 mode of life in the higiiest degree repugnant to their natural in- 
 clinations. 
 
 Giving to each of these circumstances its due weight, the result 
 appears to be, that the prodigal use made by legislators of the 
 punishment of death has been occasioned more by erroneous 
 judgments [arising from the situation in which they are placed 
 with respect to the other classes of the community] than from 
 any blameable cause. Those who make laws belong to the high- 
 est classes of the community, among whom death is considered 
 as a great evil, and an ignominious death as the greatest of evils. 
 Let it be confined to that class, if it were practicable, the effect 
 aimed at might be produced ; but it shows a total want of judg- 
 ment and reflection to apply it to a degraded and wretched class 
 of men, who do not set the same value upon life, to whom indi- 
 gence and hard labour are more formidable than death, and the 
 habitual infamy of whose lives renders them insensible to the in- 
 famy of the punishment. 
 
 If, in spite of these reasons, which appear to be conclusive, it 
 be determined to preserve the punishment of death. In considera- 
 tion of the eSects it produces in terrorem, it ought to be confined 
 to offences which in the highest degree shock the public feeling — 
 to murders, accompanied with circumstances of aggravation, and 
 particularly when their effect may be the destruction of numbers ; 
 and in these cases, expedients, by which it may be made to assume 
 the most tragic appearance, may be safely resorted to, in tbe 
 greatest extent possible, without having recourse to complicated 
 torments. — i. 450. 
 
 PUNISHMENT BY DISGRACE. 
 
 These punishments admit of minute division : they have all 
 the degrees possible from mere blame to infamy, from a tempo- 
 rary suspension of good- will,, to active and permanent ill-will : 
 but these several degrees depend altogether upon accidental cir- 
 cumstances, and are incapable of being estimated by anticipation. 
 Punishments of the pecuniary or chronical class, as, for example, 
 imprisonment, are susceptible of being exactly measured : pu- 
 nishments that depend on the moral sanction, not. Before they 
 are experienced, the value put upon them is necessarily extremely 
 inaccurate. In respect of intensity, they are liable to be inferior 
 to the greater part of those belonging to the political sanction ; 
 they'consist more in privations of pleasure, than in positive evils. 
 
344 
 
 PUNISHMENT BY DISGRACE. 
 
 This it is that constitutes their principal imperfection ; and it is 
 solely for supplying this imperfection, that penal laws were esta- 
 blished. 
 
 Ona of the circumstances by which their effect is weakened, is 
 the locality of their operation. Do you find yourself exposed to 
 the contenqpt of the people with whom you are in the habit of 
 associating? to exempt yourself from it, all that you have to do 
 is to change your abode. The punishment is reduced to the 
 giving a man the option to remain exposed to the inconveniences 
 resulting from this contempt, or to inflict on himself the punish- 
 ment of banishment, which may not be perpetual. He does not 
 abandon the hope of returning, when by lapse of time the me- 
 mory of his transgressions shall be effaced, and the public resent- 
 ment appeased. 
 
 2. In respect of equability, these punishments are really more 
 defective than at first sight they might appear. In every condi- 
 tion in life, each man has his own circle of friends and acquaint- 
 ance : to become an object of contempt or aversion to this society 
 is a misfortune as great to one man as to another. This is the 
 result that may at first view present itself to the mind, and which, 
 to a certain extent, is really correct ; it will, however, upon a 
 more narrow scrutiny of the matter, be found, that in point of 
 intensity this class of punishment is subject to extreme variation, 
 depending, as it does, upon the condition in life, wealth, educa- 
 tion, age, sex, and other circumstances : the casual evils resulting 
 from the punishments belonging to this sanction are infinitely 
 variable : shame depends upon sensibility. 
 
 Women, especially among civilized nations, are more alive to, 
 and susceptible of, the impression of shame than men. From 
 their earliest infancy, apd even before they are capable of under- 
 standing the object of it, one of the most important branches of 
 their education is, to' instil into them principles of modesty and 
 reserve ; and they are not long in discovering that this guardian 
 of their virtue is at the S4me time the source of their power. 
 They are, moreover, physically weaker, apd more dependent than 
 men, and stand more in need of protection ; it is more difficult 
 for them to change their society, and to remove from the place 
 of their abode. 
 
 At a very early age, generally speaking, sensibility to the 
 moral sanction is not remarkably acute : in pld age it becomes 
 still more obtuse. Avarice, the only passion that is fortified by 
 ^ge, subdues all sense of shame. 
 
 4 weak state of health, morbid irritability, sny bP4ily defect, 
 
PUNISHMENT BY DISGRACE. 
 
 any natural or accidental infirmity, are circumstances that aggra- 
 vate the suflfering from shame, as from every other calamity. 
 
 Wealth, considered of itself, independently of rank and educa- 
 tion, has a tendency to blunt the force of these impressions. A 
 rich man has it in hispower to change his residence; to procure 
 fresh connexions and acquaintance, and by the help of money to 
 purchase pleasures for which other people are dependent upon 
 good-will. There exists a disposition to respect opulence on its 
 own account; to bestow on the possessor of it gratuitous ser- 
 vices, and, above all, external professions of politeness and re- 
 spect. 
 
 Rank is a circumstance that augments the sensibility to all 
 impressions that affect the honour; but the rules of honour and 
 morality are not always calculated upon the same scale: the 
 higher ranks are, however, in general, more alive to the influ- 
 ence of opinion than the inferior classes. 
 
 Profession and habitual occupation materially affect the pu- 
 nishments proceeding from this source. In some classes of so- 
 ciety, the point of honour is at the very highest pitch, and any 
 circumstance by which it is affected produces a more acute im- 
 pression than any other species of shame. Courage, among 
 military men, is an indispensable qualification; the slightest sus- 
 picion of cowardice exposes them to perpetual insults: thence, 
 upon this point, that delicacy of feeling among men who, upon 
 other points, are in a remarkable degree regardless of the influ- 
 ence of the moral sanction. 
 
 The middle ranks of society are the most virtuous: it is among 
 them that, in the greatest number of points, the principles of 
 honour coincide with the principles of utiUty: it is in this class 
 also that the inconveniences arising from the forfeiture of esteem 
 are most sensibly felt, and that_the evil consequences arising from 
 the loss of reputation produce the most serious ill consequences. 
 
 Among the poorer classes, among men who live by their daily 
 labour, sensibility to honour is in general less acute. A day- 
 labourer, if he be industrious, though his character be not un- 
 spotted will be at no loss for work. His companions are com- 
 panions of labour, not of pleasure: from their gratuitous services 
 he has little to expect, and as little to ask. His wants are con- 
 fined to the mere necessaries of life. His wife and his children 
 owe him obedience, and dare not withhold it. The pleasures 
 which arise from the exercise of domestic authority fill up the 
 short intervals of labour. — i. 456-457. 
 
346 HARD LABOUR IN PRISON DISCIPLINE. 
 
 HARD LABOUR IN PRISON DISCIPLINE. 
 
 What is at the bottom of this predilection for hard labour? 
 Sound. The labour is made hard, that it may be called hard; 
 and it is called hard, that it may be frightful, for fear men should 
 fall in love with it. Hard labour was the original object. The 
 error is no new one: sentences of commitment to hard labour are 
 as frequent in our penal code as the execution of them has been 
 rare. It is no peculiar one: it is to be found upon the Continent 
 as well as here, Dutch rasp-house — Flemish mainon deforce — 
 every thing impr,essed the mind with the idea of hard labour. 
 House of hard labour was accordingly the original name. House 
 of hard labour, it was suggested by some body, is a name by 
 which no house will ever be called, and the \yell-imagined word 
 penitentiary-house was put in its stead. But though the name 
 was laid aside, the impression which had suggested that name 
 remained in force. 
 
 /The policy of thus giving a bad name to industry, the parent 
 of wealth and population, and setting it up as a scarecrow to 
 frighten criminals with, is what I must confess, I cannot enter 
 into the spirit of. I can see no use of making it either odious 
 or infamous. /I see little danger of a man's liking work of any 
 kind too well; jior if by mischance it should fail of providing 
 him in suffering enough, do I see the smallest difficulty of add- 
 ing to the hardness of his lot, and that without any addition to 
 the hardness of his labour. Do we want a bugbear? Poor in- 
 deed must be our invention, if we can find nothing that will 
 serve but industry. Is coarse diet nothing? is confinement — is 
 loss of liberty in every shape — nothing? /To me it would seem 
 but so much the better, if a man could be taught to love labour, 
 instead of being taught to loathe it. Occupation, instead of the 
 prisoners' scourge, should be called, and should be made as 
 much as possible, a cordial to him. ,/It is in itself sweet, in com- 
 parison with forced idleness; and the produce of it will give it 
 a double savour. The mere exertion, the mere naked energy, 
 is amusement, where looser ones are not to be found. Take it 
 in either point of view, industry is a blessing: why paint it as 
 a curse? 
 
 Hard labour? labour harder than ordinary, in a prison? Not 
 only it has no business there, but a prison is the only place in 
 which it is not to be had. Is it exertion that you want? violent 
 exertion? Reward, not punishment, is the office you must apply 
 to. Compulsion and slavery must, in a race like this, be ever an 
 
PRISONS AS SCHOOLS OF VICE. 347 
 
 unequal match for encouragement and liberty; and the rougher 
 the ground, the more unequal. By what contrivance could any 
 man be made to do in a jail, the work that any common coal- 
 heaver will do when at large? By what compulsion could a 
 porter be made to carry the burden which he would carry with 
 pleasure for half-a-crown? He would pretend to sink under it: 
 and how could you detect him? Perhaps he woulcf sink under 
 it — so much does the body dtepend upon the mind. By what 
 threats coujd you make a jpan walk four hundred miles, as 
 Powell did, in six days? ^ive up, then, the passion for peni- 
 tentiary hard labour, and among employments not unhealthy, 
 put up with whatever is most productive. — iv. 144^/ 
 
 PRISONS AS SCHOOLS OF VICE. 
 
 Their conversation will naturally turn upon their criminal 
 exploits. * * * Each malefactor will naturally give a detail 
 of the several feats of ingenuity which, in the course of those 
 exploits, the occiasion led him to practise. These facts will 
 naturally be noted down, were it only on the score of curiosity. 
 But as means of gratifying those prOpeiiisities, which the situation 
 in question has a strong tendency to strengthen and confirm, 
 they will make a much more forcible impression. An ample 
 mass of observations wiH be soon collected, drawn from the ex- 
 perience of the whole society, and each particular member of it 
 will sopTi be wise with the Ak'isdora of the whole. Prisons, 
 therefore, have commonly and very properly been styled schools 
 of vice. In these school's, however, the scholar has more power- 
 ful motives for, and more effectual means of, acquiring the sort 
 of knowfedgte that iS to be learnt there, than he has of acquiring 
 the sort of knowledge that is taught in more professed schools. 
 In the professed school, he is stimulated only by fear; he strives 
 against his inclination: in these schools of vice, he is stimulated 
 by hope, acting ill concert with his natural inclination. In the 
 first, the knowledge imparted is dispensed only by one person; 
 the stock of knowledge proceeds from one person: in the others, 
 each oTii'e contributes to the instruction of all the others. The 
 stock of knowledge is the united contribution of all. In pro- 
 fessed Schools, the scholar has amusements more inviting to him 
 than the professed occupations of the school: in these, he has 
 no such amusements; the occupation in question is the chief of 
 the few pleasures of which his situation admits. — i. 429. 
 
348 CORRUPTION OF BLOOD. 
 
 CONTAMINATION IN PRISONS. 
 
 True it is tiiat all this while the innocent part of the thus for- 
 cibly mixed company, thus dealt with, are (as the phrase is) con- 
 taminated; and the guilty are occupied in contaminating as well 
 as in being still further contaminated. " But what care I for all 
 thisl" says to himself noble lord pr honourable gentleman; 
 " none of it can ever fall upon me or any friends of mine. No danger 
 is there of our being thus taken up; and if we were, we should 
 be bailed of course. Then, as to the contamination, this could 
 not be put an end to without innovation ; and that would be out 
 of the frying-pan into the fire. Besides, there is a satisfaction in 
 having thus to talk of conlammation: as it is the poor alone that 
 are exposed to it, it gives a zest to the pleasure we feel in the 
 contempt we pour upon them ; it magnifies the great gulf which 
 is fixed between them and us." Such is the almost universally- 
 established sentimentality and correspondent language in the 
 upper regions : as if by far the most maleficent of contaminations 
 were not that, which (as hath over and over again been demon- 
 strated) in these same upper regions, and in particular, in the 
 part occupied by Judge and Co., has its source. — v. 533. 
 
 CORRUPTION OF BLOOD. 
 
 Under the English law, with respect to property of a particu-' 
 lar description, the innocent grandson, by the delinquency of his 
 father, is made to lose ' the chance he ' had of succeeding to his 
 grandfather, because no title can be deduced through the corrupt 
 blood of the father : this is what, by English lawyers, is called 
 corruption of blood. 
 
 The strength of the argument lips in the metaphor: this 
 cabalistic expression serves as an answer to all objections. The 
 justice of the metaphor turns upon two suppositions: — 
 
 The one is, that where a man has committed a felony, (stolen a 
 horse, for instance,) his blood immediately undergoes a fermenta- 
 tion, and (according to the system of physiology in use upon this 
 occasion) becomes really corrupt. 
 
 The other is, that when a man's blood is in this state of pu- 
 trescency, it becomes just and necessary to deprive his children 
 not only of all relft property, of which he Was in the enjoyment, 
 but of what might thereafter be derived through him. 
 
CORRUPTION OP BLOOD. 349 
 
 The end of punishment is to restrain a man from delinquency. 
 The question is, whether it be an advantageous way of endea- 
 vouring at this, to punish in any and what cases, in any and 
 what mode, to any and what degree, his wife, his children, or 
 other descendants : that is, with a direct intention to make them 
 sufferers T 
 
 If a man can be prevented from running into delinquency, by 
 means of punishment hung over the heads of persons thus con- 
 nected with him, it is not, as in the cases above mentioned, be- 
 cause it is expected that they should have it in their power to 
 restrain him, by any coercion, physical or mental, of their im- 
 posing : it is not that they are likely to have it in their power, 
 by any thing they can do. In the case of the wife, it is not very 
 likely; in the case of children already born, it is still less likely ; 
 in the case of children not yet born, it is impossible. What is 
 expected to work upon him, is the image of what they may be 
 made to suffer. The punishment, then, upon them, may be, and 
 it is expected will be, without any act of theirs, a punishment 
 upon him. It will produce in him a pain of sympathy. 
 
 First, we will consider the case of the wife, where the punish- 
 ment consists in being made to lose what is already in specific 
 prospect: viz. The immoveable property in which she had her 
 dower. 
 
 It has been doubted whether it were possible for a man to love 
 another better than himself; that is, to be affected, not merely 
 momentarily, but for a length of time together, more by the pains 
 and pleasures of another than by his own. Some have denied 
 the possibility ; all will admit that it is extremely rare. Suppose 
 it, then, to happen in one case out of five hundred ; and, to do all 
 possible honour to the marriage state, let us suppose that this 
 person whom a man loves better than he does himself, is never 
 any other than his wife. But it is not so many as half the num- 
 ber of men of an age to commit crimes, that have wives. Nor 
 is there above one in a hundred who has lands, of which a wife 
 is endowed. Upon this calculation, there is not above one man 
 in 50,000 of those that are liable to this mode of punishment, on 
 whom it would operate in as great a degree as if laid on himself. 
 In the remaining 49,999 instances, in order to produce the same 
 effect, more punishment must be laid upon the innocent wife, 
 than would need to be laid upon the offending husband. Let us 
 suppose, for the purpose of the argument, that every man loves 
 his wife half as much as he does himself: on this supposition, ten 
 degrees or grains (or by what other name#)ever it shall be 
 30 
 
350 
 
 OUTLAWRY. 
 
 thought proper to call so many aliquot parts of punishment) must 
 be laid upon the wife, in order to produce the effect of five grains 
 laid directly upon the husband. On this supposition, then, in 
 49,999 cases out of 50,000, half the punishment that is laid on 
 in this way, is laid on in waste.* 
 
 Second, What has been said with regard to the wife, may, 
 without any very considerable variation, be applied to the chil- 
 dren. In this latter case, however, generally speaking, the affec- 
 tion is likely to be more uniform and certain, and consequently 
 the contemplation of the suffering they may be exposed to more 
 certainly efficacious, in restraining the commission of the act in- 
 tended to be guarded against. The same method, making due 
 allowance on this score, will therefore apply to this, as to the 
 preceding case. 
 
 What follows from this, therefore, is, that till the whole stock 
 of direct punishment be exhausted upon the offender himself, 
 none ought in this way to be attempted to be applied through 
 the medium of the innocent. — i. 480-481. 
 
 American savages have been proverbial for cruelty. The sa- 
 vage is mild and placable, compared with the English lawyer. 
 The savage minces or broils his enemy, and is satisfied : the 
 lawyer, at a whisper from above, gluts on the child unborn his 
 unprovoked and mercenary cruelty. No mischief is so un- 
 assuageable as that which employs for its instrument a mass of 
 corrupted language. Perillus's bull, after it had broiled its au- 
 thor, was soon laid upon the shelf Corruption of blood, the in- 
 vention of a corrupted understanding, at the suggestion of a 
 corrupted heart — that most barbarous of all abuses of words, — 
 remains, if the lawyer have his will, remains to corrupt justice 
 as well as language, to the end of time. — vii, 436. 
 
 OUTLAWRY. 
 
 To this mode of punishment the objection of inequality applies 
 with peculiar force. The fund out of which a man who has a 
 fund of his own subsists, is either his labour, or his property. 
 If he has property, it consists either in immoveables, or in move- 
 ables. If in immoveables, it is either in his own hands, or in 
 
 • It will not, it is hoped, be understood that any stress is meant to be 
 laid upon the particular number here employed : the reader may put in 
 numbers for himself; they are merely given as a specimen of tlie manner 
 in which such an inquiry ought to be conducted. 
 
OUTLAWRY. 351 
 
 those of other persons: if In mo-feables, it is either in public 
 hands, or in private : if in private, either in his own hands, or in 
 those of other persons. 
 
 A man who subsists by his labour, is in general scarcely at all 
 affected by this punishment. He receives his pay, if not before 
 he does his worlc, at least as soon as a small quantity of it is done. 
 
 A man whose fund of subsistence consists in immoveable pro- 
 perty, is very little affected by this punishment, if that property 
 is in his own hands. The utmost inconvenience it can subject 
 him to, is the obliging him to deal for ready money. If his pro- 
 perty is in the funds, he is not at all aflFected. There seems no 
 reason to suppose that those who have the management of those 
 funds, would refuse a man his dividend on the ground of any 
 such disability. They would have no interest in such a refusal ; 
 and the importance of keeping up public credit would probably 
 be a sufficient motive to keep them in this instance from depart- 
 ing from the general engagement. 
 
 If a man's property consists in moveable property which is in 
 his own hands — for instance, stock in trade, it affects him indeed, 
 but not very deeply. The utmost it can do, is to oblige him to 
 deal for ready money ; to preclude him from sellitig upon credit. 
 It does not preclude him from buying upon credit, since though 
 others are not amenable to him, he is to others. 
 
 It is only where a man's property consists^in credits — for ex- 
 ample, in immoveables in the hands of a tenant, in a sum due 
 for goods sold on credit, or in money out upon security, that it 
 can affect him very deeply. Of such a man it may be the utter 
 ruin. 
 
 In this case, whether a man suffer to the extreme amount; or 
 whether he suffer at all, depends upon what ? upon the moral 
 honesty of those he happens to have to do with. 
 
 There are two circumstances, therefore, on which the quan- 
 tum of this mode of punishment depends : 1st, The nature of the 
 fund from whence he draws his subsistence ; 2d, The moral ho- 
 nesty of the people he happens to have to do with. But neither 
 of these circumstances is in any way connected with the degree 
 of criminality of any offence for which a man can be thus pu- 
 nished. Of two men, both guilty, and that in the same degree, 
 one may be ruined, the other not at all affected. The greater 
 punishment is as likely to fall upon the lesser offender as upon the 
 greater : the lesser upon the greater offender, as upon the lesser. 
 
 Another objection applies to this mode of punishment, on the 
 score of immorality. The punishment being of a pecuniary 
 nature, there is a profit arising out of it, which accordingly is to 
 
352 
 
 DEODANDS. 
 
 be disposed of in favour of somebody. And in whose favour is 
 it disposed of? in favour of any one, who, having contracted an 
 engagement with the delinquent, can, for the sake of lucre, be 
 brought to break it. 
 
 It may be said, that the engagement being by the supposition 
 rendered void, there is no harm in its being broken. True ; it 
 is void, as far as concerns the political sanction, but it is not void 
 by the moral. All that the law does is not to compel him toper- 
 form it ; but the interests of society require, and, accordingly, 
 so does the moral sanction require, that a man should be ready 
 to perform his engagement, although the law should not compel 
 him. If a man can be brought in this way to break his engage- 
 ment, it is a sign that the power ^of money over him is greater 
 than that of the moral sanction. He is therefore what is pro- 
 perly termed an immoral man ; and it is the law that either has 
 begotten in him that evil quality, or at least has fosterpd it. 
 
 The dispensations, therefore, of the political sanction, are in 
 this case, set at variance with those which are, and ought to be, 
 those of the moral sanction. It invites men to pursue a mode of 
 conduct which the moral sanction, in conformity to the dictates 
 of utility, forbids.— i. 513-514. 
 
 When a man is transformed into an outlaw, a caput lopimim, 
 a wolf's head, as we learn from the highest authorities, takes 
 place of the original head planted by nature upon his shoulders. 
 While John Wilkes was in Paris, an attorney's clerk perforaied 
 this metamorphosis upon his head, by pronouncing the magical 
 words at a public-house called the Three Tons, in Brook Street, 
 Holborn. A discovery was made, that one of the words belong- 
 ing to the formulary was wanting or misplaced. The effect of 
 this discovery was, to replace upon the shoulders of the blas- 
 phemer his natural head, such as it may be seen in Hogarth's print 
 of it. — vii. 254. 
 
 DEODANDS. 
 
 You are a farmer. You employ a wagon. You send your 
 son to drive it : he slips down, is run over and killed. The king, 
 or somebody in his name, is to have your wagon. This is the 
 consolation which the law of England gives you for your loss. 
 
 This idea might be improved upon. Let it be a la w that when 
 a man happens to break his neck, the people of his parish shall 
 draw lots who shall be hanged to keep him company. The pun- 
 
CROMWELL AND LAW REFORM. 353 
 
 iahment would be greater, but the reason for punishment would 
 be the same. 
 
 If, instead of a wagon, it had been a ship that was moving to 
 your son's death, it would make no difference: though the ship 
 were laden with the treasure of the Indies, it would make no 
 difference; the ship and its lading would be the king's. — i. 485. 
 
 CROMWELL AND LAW REFORM. 
 
 In a conversation with Ludlow, Cromwell said, " That it 
 was his intention to contribute the utmost of his endeavours to 
 make a thorow reformation of the clergy and law: but," said 
 he, " the sons of Zeruiah are yet too strong for us: and we can- 
 not mention the reformation of the law, but they presently cry 
 out, we design to destroy propriety: whereas the law, as it is 
 now constituted, serves only to maintain the lawyers, and to en- 
 courage the rich to oppress the poor; affirming that Mr. Coke, 
 then Justice in Ireland, by proceeding in a summary and expe- 
 ditious way, determined more causes in a week than Westmin- 
 ster Hall in a year; saying farther, that Ireland was as a clean 
 paper in that particular, and capable of being governed by such 
 laws as should be found most agreeable to justice: which may 
 be so impartially administered as to be a good precedent even 
 to England itself: where, when they'once perceive propriety 
 preserved at an easy and cheap rate in Ireland, they will never 
 permit themselves to be so cheated and abused as now they are."* 
 
 Behold what was said in his day by Cromwell! In my eyes, 
 it ranks that wonderful man higher than any thing else I ever 
 read of him: — it will not lower him in yours. f 
 
 As to the clergy, in your happy country the reformation has 
 alileady been effected.' Remains as and for the only class, in the 
 instance of which any the least need of reform still remains — 
 the class of lawyers. That, in your country; in comparison 
 with what it is here, the quantity of abuse issuing from this 
 source is in no small degree inferior, I am fully sensible: but, 
 so long as any the least particle of mischief, though it were but 
 a single one, is perceptible, why it should continue unexcluded, 
 — unless by the exclusion put upon it, a preponderant mass of 
 mischief can be shown to be let in, — remains for him to say, 
 
 * Ludlow's Memoirs, i. 319; i. 430: ib. iii. 75. Coke's Execution, ih. ii. 
 717. 
 
 t The United States. 
 
 30* 
 
354 LORD LOUGHBOROUGH AND BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 
 who to the desire, seems to himself to add the power, of ren- 
 dering to his profession and its interest so acceptable a service. 
 
 In this same volume (i. p. 436) the last paragraph is in these 
 words:-^'* In the meantime the reformation of the law went on 
 but slowly, it being the interest of the lawyers to preserve the 
 lives, libejties, and estates of the whole nation in their own hands. 
 So that upon the debate [on the subject] of registering deeds in 
 each county, for want of which, within a certain time fixed after 
 the sale, such sales should be void, and being so registered, that 
 land should not be subject to any encumbrance; this word en- 
 cumbrance was so managed by the lawyers that it took up three 
 months' time before it could be ascertained by the committee." 
 
 Thus, by the particular and sinister interest of the lawyers, 
 was the reformation of the law obstructed. From the same ho- 
 nest pen, behold how, and by the force of what sinister interests, 
 so desirable and admirable an enterprise was soon afterwards 
 finally quashed (ii. 717:)—" The Parliament, on their part, be- 
 ing sensible of their danger," (viz. from the array: this was the 
 latter end of 1659,) " were not wholly negligent of the means 
 to prevent it: though I cannot say th&y gave no advantages to 
 the faction of the army, by disgusting the sectarian party, and 
 falling in with the corrupt interests of the lawyers and Clergy, 
 wherein the army did not fail to outbid them when they saw 
 their time." — iv. 501. 
 
 LORD LOUGHBOROUGH AND BENJAMIN 
 FRANKLIN, 
 
 This pre-eminent lawyer happened to furnish, within my ob- 
 servations, two exhibitions as strongly contrasted, perhaps, as 
 ever were furnished by the same person in so short a space of 
 time. The first time I saw him he was in black, with the sword 
 stuck by his side, holding up the train of the then chancellor; but 
 this is not one of the two I mean, Not long after this, attending 
 in the Court of King's bench as a student, I saw him with a .silk 
 gown on his back making a motion with far more hesitation and 
 distress than I ever witnessed on the part of the youngest and 
 most obscure tyro. This was the first time of my seeing him in 
 the character of a lawyer: the last time was at the council-board. 
 It must, I think have been by Lind's means that I enjoyed a 
 privilege in which I had so few to share with me. I speak only 
 from present inference; for I do not recollect that he himself was 
 there. At that board, Franklin stood as the silent and necessarily 
 defenceless butt of his eloquent invectives. No hesitation then: 
 
DAINES BARRINGTON^ 355 
 
 self and language were, in equal perfection, subjects of command. 
 Fortunate was I beyond all probability in being present at so 
 memorable a scene. Members of the board, nearer a dozen, I 
 believe, tlian a score, sitting on the opposite sides of a long table. 
 At the upper end, the Duke of Portland as president. Auditors, 
 I question whether there were more than a dozen besides my- 
 self. Of the president's chair, the back parallel to and not far 
 distant from the fire : the chimney-piece projecting a foot or two 
 from that side of the apartment formed a recess, on each side. 
 Alone in the recess, on the left hand of the president, stood Ben- 
 jamin Franklin, in such position as not to be visible from the 
 situation of the president, remaining the whoie time like a rock 
 in the same posture, his head resting on his left hand ; and in 
 that attitude abiding the pelting of the pitiless storm. If neces- 
 sary, at the call of a subpoena, I could give some tolerable ac- 
 count of the materials, colour, and buttons of that coat which, I 
 am ashamed to think, retarded, for such a length of time, not 
 much less, I fear, than a week, — if not the cessation of hostilities, 
 at any rate the conclusion of peace between so many mighty 
 contenduig powers and their subject millions. Before the inci- 
 dent ever found its way into the public prints, I had it from a 
 noble friend, who was present at the last exhibition of the im- 
 portant vestment as I was at the first. To return to Wedder- 
 burn. • T was not more astonished at the brilliancy of his light- 
 ning, than astounded by the thunder that accompanied it. As 
 he stood, the cushion lay on the council-table before him: his 
 station was between the seats of two of the members on the 
 side of the right hand of the Lord "President. So narrow were 
 the dimensions of this important justice-chamber ; they were 
 those of a private drawing-room. I would not, for double the 
 greatest fee the orator could on that occasion have received, been 
 in the place of that cushion : the ear was stunned at every blow : 
 he had been reading, perhaps, in that book in which the prince 
 of Roman orators and rhetoric professors instructs his pupils 
 how to make impression. — x. 59-60. 
 
 DAINES BARRINGTON. 
 
 He was a very indifferent judge ; a quiet, good sort of a man ; 
 not proud but liberal ; and vastly superior to Blackstone in his 
 disposition to improvement: more impartial in his judgment of 
 men arid' things, — ^less sycophancy, and a higher intellect. He 
 was an English polyglot lawyer. He sits in judgment on kings 
 
356 COLONEL BARRE AND LORD DARTRY. 
 
 and others ; exhibits their arbitrary tricks, not in the spirit of 
 those who pour out all laud upon that king, who, in cutting 
 men's throats, manages to cut more throats of some other king's 
 people than of his own people. His book was a great treasure; 
 and when I saw the placid little man in the Strand, I used to 
 look at him with prodigious veneration. He had a particular 
 way of holding his hands before him and twisting his thumbs. 
 He never got higher than to be a Welsh judge. He was not, in- 
 tentionally, a bad judge, though he was often a bad one. He 
 took merit to himself for cancelling a hundred pages of his book. 
 I do not know the caused the book is every thing, apropos of 
 every thing. — x. 121. 
 
 JOHN HOWARD. 
 
 My venerable friend, was much better employed than in ar- 
 ranging words and sentences. Instead of doing what so many 
 could do if they would, what he did for the service of mankind 
 was what scarce any man could have done, and no man would 
 do but himself. In the scale of moral desert, the labours of the 
 legislator and the writer are as far below his, as Earth is below 
 Heaven. His was the truly Christian choice : the lot in which 
 is to be,found the least of that which selfish nature covets, and 
 the most of what it shrinks from. His kingdom was of a better 
 world ! He died a martyr after living our apostle. — iv. 121. 
 CMIW 
 
 COLONEL BARRE AND LORD DARTRY.* 
 
 Barre loves to sit over his claret, pushes it about pretty briskly, 
 and abounds ,in stories that are well told, and very entertaining. 
 He really seems to have a great command of language ; he states 
 clearly and forcibly ; and, upon all points, his words are fluent 
 and well-chosen. Lord Dartry is also intelligent and entertaining. 
 They were talking over Irish affairs this afternoon : their con- 
 versation was instructive : when they differed, as they did now 
 and then, about matters of fact as well as opinion, it was with 
 great firmness and urbanity. I put a word in now and then to 
 keep the ball up, and to avoid appearing a perfect ninny: but it 
 was pain and grief to me. — Letter to George Wilson, 1781. — 
 X. 104. 
 
 * Thomas Dawson baron Dartry, afierwards Visnount Cremorne. 
 
CONNEXION WITH LORD LANSDOWNE. 357 
 
 PITT AND HIS BROTHER THE SECOND LORD CHAT- 
 HAM. 
 
 Do you know Lord Chatham I In his appearance, upon the 
 whole, he puts me In mind of Dan. Parker Coke f but he has his 
 father's Roman nose, and, if events should concur to make hinl 
 have a good opinion of himself, will soon, I dare aay, acquire his 
 commanding manner : at present, one sees little more than a kind 
 of reserve, teinpered with mildness, but cloulded with a little dash 
 of bashfulness. Will. Pitt you know for certain; in his conversa- 
 tion there is nothing of the orator — nothing of that hauteur and 
 suflSsance one would expect ; on the contrary, he seems very good- 
 natured, and a little raw. I was monstrously frightened at him, 
 but, when I came to talk with him, he seemed frightened at me ; 
 so that, if any thing should happen to jumble us together, we may, 
 perhaps, be good pax ; which, however, is not very likely : for I 
 don't know very well what ideas we are likely to have in common. 
 
 After beating Miss V , I have just been ijeating him, at chess ; 
 
 an inglorious conquest, as he is scarce so much in my hands as I 
 am in yours. * * * * Finding he [Pitt] had no chance 
 with me, he complained of its hurting his head, and gave it up 
 immediately. Towards the close of the evening, Lord Chatham 
 gave me a challenge. I accepted it. From something that Pitt 
 had said, I expected to have found him an easy conquest, especially 
 as there was something seemingly irregular in the opening of his 
 game ; but it was a confounded bite ; for I soon found his hand 
 as heavy over me as I ever have felt yours : in short he beat me 
 shamefully, and the outcries I made on that occasion were such 
 as would naturally convey to other people a formidable idea of 
 his prowess. — Letter to George Wilson, 1781. — x. 100-104. 
 
 CONNEXION WITH LORD LANSDOWNE. 
 
 Some weeks had elapsed, when the visit to Lincoln's Inn pro- 
 duced one of some minutes to Shelburne House, and that, one of 
 some weeks to Bo wood. This had not lasted many days, when 
 the purpose of it, or at least one purpose, was declared to me. A 
 scene took place, the remembrance of which is, at more than forty 
 years' distance, as fresh in my mind as if it had been but yesterd&y. 
 The rest of the company used to sit down to supper : I not. A 
 little before they repaired to the supper-table, I used to retire for 
 the night. In my way was a room, on a table in which, the 
 
358 LORD LANSDOWNE AND HIS NOMraEES. 
 
 guests used to receive or deposite the lights they had need of in 
 passing to and from their several apartments. Repairing to it 
 one evening for my candles. — in the act of talking them up, I was 
 met by the Master of the House, with those which he came to 
 deposite. " Mr. Bentham," said he, candles in hand — " Mr. Ben- 
 tham," in a tone somewhat hurried, as his manner sometimes was, 
 " what is it you can do for me 1" My surprise could not but be 
 visible. Candles still in hand — " Nothing at all, my lord," said, 
 I ; " nothing that I know of: I never said I could ; I am lilie the 
 Prophet Balaam : the word that God putteth into ray mouth — 
 that alone can I ever speak." For discernment he was eminent ; 
 for quickness of conception not less so. He took this for what it 
 was meant for — a declaration of independence. He deposited his 
 candles ; I went off with mine. If by this rencontre any expec- 
 tation of his was disappointed, — neither his kindness, nor the 
 marks of his esteem, were lessened. Some years after, more than 
 once did it happen to me to do something for him. But, so it 
 happened, it was always in pursuit of my own views of things 
 — in the pursuit of the ^reatesUhappiness principle; and what- 
 ever was done, nothing did he know of it till after it was done. 
 — i. 249. 
 
 LORD LANSDOWNE AND HIS NOMINEES.* 
 
 In the name of God, my lord, what are these shadows for which 
 you are sacrificing everything and every body 7 What in the scale 
 of politics can be the weight of a parliamentary interest, as far 
 as mere members are concerned, of which the sole constituent 
 elements are as many votes, neither more nor less, as three seats 
 can purchase ; for Lord Wycombe's is not yet at market ; he is 
 not yet called up nor chosen for a country 1 But let all possibili- 
 ties of every kind, and even impossibilities, be taken for realities, 
 and you have four seats. Four seats are four votes : and let the 
 prospect of these four seats give you four votes more to retreat 
 to in case of a repulse from others ; though, as often as a repulse 
 actually happens to take place, for instance Mr. Baring's, the 
 number is diminished, as the same seat will not hold two men at 
 the same time. Call them eight : if you please, multiply them 
 by ten, and call them eighty : what, upon the face of God's earth, 
 are you to do with these eighty votes ? What one single point 
 
 » Fibm a letter to Lord Lansdowne in the year 1790. 
 
LORD LANSDOWNB AND HI3 NOMINEES. 
 
 359 
 
 can you hope to gain by it? Is it in the power of eight or of 
 eighty votes to malce you minister, or to keep you minister, when 
 the gods have made you so ; or so much as to Iseep your head 
 from the block, were they to give their own instead of it? There 
 are, I take it, two plans for carrying things in parliament; per 
 capita and per stirpes — doing it by numbers, or doing it by 
 weight. The plan per capita, though rather a difficult one, has 
 been said, I think, to have once been pursued by I forget which 
 minister, to keep himself in; but for a man who is not minister 
 to get himself in by pursuing the plan per capita, and that upon 
 the strength of four actual votes, and as many possible ones, \a 
 what, I must confess, I should not have thought of. Two things, 
 and two things only, can either put or keep you in: king's favour, 
 and weight of reputation. For the king's favour, if it depend 
 upon such conditions, you have full license from me to make 
 every sacrifice. I require of flesh and blood no more than flesh 
 and blood are equal to. Lay all your principles at his feet. 
 Send both sets of us packing, the ins and the outs, with Lord 
 Wycombe into the bargain. Surrender your boroughs to Lord 
 Hawkesbury. But will the king's favour be governed in any 
 shape by your four or your eight votes ; or rather by the differ- 
 ence between your four votes, which you are sure of, and your 
 eight, which is the utmost your four can givet Are your four 
 or your eight votes, then, any better security for the requisite 
 quantum of reputation 1 As to mere personal reputation, that is 
 equally out of the question in any case. The plan for weight of 
 reputation in parliament is the plan per stirpes. This was the 
 plan you appeared formerly to pursue : and personal inclination 
 and politics went at that time hand in hand. Dunning, I think I 
 have understood from you, you had an affection for : Townshend 
 at any rate; and I suppose Barre at one time. Dunning, though 
 a narrow-minded man, and a mere lawyer, was a most able ad- 
 vocate ; and, I daresay, drew a considerable slirps after him. 
 Townshend was of use to you in the city. I believe at one time 
 he governed it. Barre, though he knew nothing, was a good 
 party bull-dog, barked well, and with great imposition and effect, 
 where nothing was necessary to be known. This was acting 
 per stirpes; and having a party, and having a piece at least of a 
 great state engine, though, if you had got a whole one, there was 
 not a man of them all that had any idea of any use it was to 
 be put to, or of any good that was to be done with it. To the 
 herd of statesmen power is its own end : by the dignified few it 
 is regarded only as a means to an end. There have been times 
 
360 
 
 LORD LANSDOWNB AND HIS NOMINEES. 
 
 when I have had the pleasure of seeing your lordship ranking 
 yourself among those few : I wish I could say always. You had 
 then, at that time of day a Shelburne party, one which, whatever 
 were the subjects, was the more honourable to the head of it, as 
 he reigned alone. A party which, by mere weight of reputation, 
 told in the balance against the great aristocracy of the country. 
 It was then, as they say at cricket, Shelburne against all England. 
 In comparison, upon the present plan, or rather no plan, what is 
 the party come to now 'i In the House of Commons there is not 
 a grain of reputation belonging to any one member of it below the 
 head. It is the old story of the Colossus, with the head of gold 
 and legs of clay. It is all head and no body : the figure we see 
 at the puppet-show ; below the head, there is not a grain of repu- 
 tation to be found ; what the Rump Parliament was in compari- 
 son with the Long Parliament in its glory. I beg pardon of the 
 Rump ; at that time of day, wherever it was not admired, it had at 
 least the honour of being hated to a degree which it could not 
 have been if it had not been feared. Here it is pure derision and 
 contempt. I speak feelingly — I have a right to do so ; its humili- 
 ation is mine^is still worse humiliation to me. 
 
 As to the present rump of the ci-devant Shelburne party, the 
 curious thing is, that there is nothing I could say to you of their 
 insignificance in which you have not gone before me. It is not 
 my opinion of them I am giving you, but your own opinion, 
 repeatedly and most explicitly declared, and that to me. In the 
 ordinary course of things, it is a satisfaction to a man where he 
 finds his own judgment of men or things confirmed by the public 
 voice. This satisfaction, if such it were in your case, nobody 
 need wish to possess in a higher degree than you do. It is singular 
 enough, but no less singular than strictly true, that from the 
 time your choice was known, to the present, I have not been in a 
 single company, your own particular friends excepted, (for none 
 of us confer even with one another about such matters, or sit in 
 judgment together over you,) not a single person have I seen, 
 who has not obtruded upon me his wonder at your choice. A 
 few, whose degree of familiarity admitted of such discourse, went 
 so far as to express their wonder at not finding me in the number; 
 but whether I, who am out, was alluded to or no, there was but 
 one voice with regard to those who are in. " How came Jarvis 
 to be pitched upon of all people in the world 1 a very good man 
 on board of ship ; but what is he to do, or what did he ever do, 
 in Parliament V " Whaf! of all men in the world, could he find 
 nobody but Jekyil 1 How could he think of such a man as that 
 
LORD LANDSDOWNE AND HIS NOMINEES. 361 
 
 for Parliament!" " Put Jekyll into Parliament! is it quite a 
 burlesque upon Parliament the very idea of it," said another 
 man, in so many words, with abundance of details to the same 
 effect. With others, the last choice was matter of particular 
 surprise; for I found he was understood to be a dull man, and 
 th«t even by dull men, — by men who neither had, nor even pre- 
 tended to have, an opinion of their own; and only spoke, as 
 they could only speak, from his general character in the profes- 
 sion. Nor, in all, was there any thing of party or personal dis- 
 like; among people of all sorts and characters and parties, I found 
 but one and the same language. * * * * Insignificant as 
 they are, it would be something if they were yours: obsequious- 
 ness might make some amends for ignorance and inefBciency: 
 but another curious thing is, that they are no more yours than 
 they are the king's, or Pitt's, or Fox's. Your men? Could 
 you find three men in the House that were less so, or less soli- 
 citous to appear so? They your men? Yon are their man, if you 
 please: but in what sense any one of them is your man, except 
 by vouchsafing to sit down and then in the seat you have given 
 him, I should be curious to know. So much as to principles. 
 Whether they are yours or no, for the purpose of being let out 
 to private jobs, such as the Duchess of Rutland's for instance, I 
 cannot pretend to say. But if they are, what is that worth to 
 you? What satisfaction or advantage did you get, for example, 
 in that very instance? 
 
 The use of a practising lawyer is the having a man who, be- 
 sides whatever knowledge he may have in his profession, has 
 studied speaking, — a man who, having no opinion of hisjown, is 
 ready to say, upon all occasions, whatever is put into his mouth. 
 His business should be to catch your opinions, and argue from 
 them, in and out of the House, as he would from his brief. The 
 seat you give him is his retaining fee; if he is not your dme 
 damnie, he is a rebel and a traitor. A man who is ready to 
 prove black white for any body for a guinea, — is it for a man 
 like that to have a will or an opinion of his own, against that of 
 a man who gives him what is worth ^64000? 
 
 In the House, members are supposed to speak the sentiments 
 of their electors: every where else they are supposed to speak 
 the sentiments of the borough-master who puts' them in. Your 
 members, if ever they open their mouths, whose are the senti- 
 ments they will speak? Yours? — no more than they will be 
 those of the people of Calne or Wycombe. They speak your 
 sentiments? They neither would be able if they wished it, nor 
 would if they were able. They speak your sentiments? You 
 31 
 
362 SPECIMENS OP FAMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 will scarce venture to speak your own sentiments when these 
 men are by. When the beginnings of the French Revolution 
 were on the carpet at Bowood, you scarce durst own your good 
 wishes on its behalf; while Jekyll, who has, in general, so many 
 good jokes, was exhausting himself in bad ones to endeavour to 
 make it look ridiculous. — x. 235-237. 
 
 SPECIMENS OF FAMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Lord Lansdowne has trumped up a story about certain songs 
 having been asked for by Miss F. Five times was the num- 
 ber mentioned, which consequently requires five letters. Being 
 taxed with fiction, he unloaded his pockets before me of their 
 contents, including about fifty letters, among which were to 
 have been the five, or some of them; hut is unable to find one. 
 It is an old manoeuvre, and will not pass upon any body, not 
 even upon me. The notice, however, having been given in 
 form, with threats of disgrace in case of neglect, I must act as 
 if it were true. Well, here it is — the same song — it has cost me 
 hours after hours — pieces of days, as many as there are days in 
 a week at least; and what will any body be the better for iti 
 When you ordered it, you did not want it; and now you have 
 got it, you won't make use of it. I am recommenced wild 
 beast, and growl as every wild beast will do when you touch 
 his chain. Not a syllable did I get from you before, nor shall 
 I now, — not so much as the direction of a letter; and the no- 
 tice, supposing it genuine, was to come in circumbendibus 
 through two different channels. Here is the song, extracted 
 from me in the most dexterous manner; and not only that, but 
 paper enough to singe a goose with, without any body comit- 
 ting himself. I don't like such sort of dealings, not I. I have 
 read Cocker's Arithmetic, — I like to see a debtor and creditor 
 
 side fairly balanced, — needs must when drives. Peace and 
 
 quietness are my aim; but Lord L., who knows the necessities 
 of an election, and who will never let me alone, insisted upon 
 having, not only song, but letter; so you have him to thank for 
 it. The old story — providence in plenty; but all of it on one 
 side. The ice becomes the colder, I think when the three Dianas 
 get together: they are like snow, saltpetre, and sal-ammoniac: 
 there is something Greenlandish, too, in the air of that old castle. 
 Hear me, madam! If I don't get something better, by return of 
 post, than a note in solemn form, and that from one hand only, 
 
SPECIMENS OF FAMILIAR COKRESPONDENCE. 363 
 
 the whole correspondence goes, the next day, to, I need not say 
 where — I leave to imagination to conclude the sentence. I 
 thought we had got our quietus when the metaphysical disputa- 
 tions were adjourned to Lansdowne House; but fate would have 
 it otherwise. My brother, who is too good to you, talks of sending 
 you a Russo-French song, music composed, and given him by 
 a Countess Golof kin, or Go-lovekin, as you may be pleased to 
 call her, — which said song Miss F. will neither have the indus- 
 try to learn, nor the punctuality to acknowledge the receipt ot. 
 I send it rather as a literary curiosity than for its excellence ; but 
 though his Visho-blagorodinship gives a toss of his head, and 
 observes that such accomplishments there exhibited are com- 
 mon among the ladies of that, country, he found something origi- 
 nal in it, and not unpleasing ; and, at any rate, it is easy, which 
 is no bad recommendation in this idle word — curiosity I call it, 
 speaking as an EInglishman. But it must be copied out first, 
 which will give occasion to the said Miss F., after consultation 
 with Miss v., and consent given by beg of Lady W., to Miss B. 
 in her next epistle to Lord Henry, to desire him to tell Mr. Favre 
 to intimate her wishes to Lord Lansdowne, that his lordship 
 would have the goodness to send somebody to Mr. Benthain 
 that he may remind his brother of it. (1791.)— x. 266-267. 
 
 When will the unreadable letter get a reading? Heaven 
 knows. If I was afraid to look at it at first, the two angelic 
 ones that succeed it have made me more and more so. Come — 
 you shall understand exactly how it is with me. Did it never 
 happen to you to find yourself half awake after a pleasing dream, 
 still wrapt up in it, afi-aid above all things of losing it, keeping 
 as still as a mouse, and staving off to the last moment the ope- 
 ration of turning on the other side, for fear of putting an end to it. 
 Who would change a pleasmg illusion for an unpleasing realityl 
 — I would not, I am sure. 
 
 Do you know why it was Jephthah sacrificed his daughter 1 
 Was it that he wanted to get rid of her 1 No such thing : there 
 was not a better-behaved young woman in the whole parish, 
 and she was the only string he had to his bow. Why then ' 
 Because he had said he would ; and if he had not been as good 
 as his word, he would have been accused of inconsistency, he 
 thought, and want of perseverance in all the Jerusalem news- 
 papers. He wished his tongue had been cut out a thousand 
 times over, rather than he had said any such thing : and yet 
 you see, poor Miss Jephthah went to pot, notwithstanding. Had 
 there been such a person as a pope in the neighbourhood, he 
 
364 SPECIMENS OP FAMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 would have gone to his shop and bought a dispensation : but 
 popes were not as yet invented in his days. 
 
 Some Ijistorians tell a story of Curtius, that when he was got 
 to the edge of the gulph, and saw how deep and black it looked, 
 his heart misgave him, and he began casting about to find ex- 
 cuses to get out of tlie way of it. They had given him a wrong 
 horse : if he jumped in with this it would break a set, he would 
 just go to the stable and change him, and come back again ; un- 
 fortunately some boys that were standing by began to set up a 
 hiss, so he set spurs to the poor beast and in they went together. 
 
 When Sir Thomas Moore was going to have his head chopped 
 off, and bid Jack Ketch not meddle with his beard, as that had 
 not committed any treason, do you think it was a matter of in- 
 difference to him whether his head was off or on ■? I question it. 
 The case was, he had got a trick of talking in that manner : and 
 it was as natural to him as to ask what o'clock it was, or to ob- 
 serve it was fine weather. 
 
 I remember when I was a boy, and had occasion sometimes 
 to pass through a churchyard of a night, I used to set up a sing- 
 ing : Was it from high spirits 1 The duce a bit : on the contrary, 
 my heart was going pit-a-pat all the while, and I fancied I saw 
 a ghost perched upon every tombstone. (1792.) — x. 276. 
 
 I am growing more and more savage every day. I begin to 
 moralize, and talk about the sparks flying upwards. 1 have 
 known dogs that, if you spoke to them and offered them a bit of 
 the breast of a chicken, would turn and growl at you. — I am ex- 
 actly in this case. It was but t'other day I spoke to puss, the 
 only person 1 ever see, in so civil a manner ; she went into hys- 
 terics. I feel my forefeet drawing nearer and nearer to the 
 ground, — as soon as the grass is got up a little, I shall take to 
 eating it. Does Lord H. propose to have a menagerie when he 
 
 goes to ;I forget the name of his place, — I believe it's 
 
 Winterton ? If so, and the dens are not all engaged, put in a 
 word for me, pray, and bespeak one of them for me, to keep me 
 in. He need not put himself to the expense of a chain, I have 
 had one by me these ten years. I won't bite you : indeed I won't, 
 though you should put in a hand and give me a pat now and 
 then through the grate. If any thing could keep me upon my 
 hind legs a little longer, it would be the sight of a few lines now 
 and then, such as those that were written to the jewel-man ; 
 but put me in the inside of the letter, so that nobody may see 
 them but myself. — x. 188. 
 
SPECIMENS OP FAMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE. S65 
 
 * That bread is dear — that I have none of it to eat, nor have 
 had for a course of years, are unhappy truths, none of which can 
 be any secret to your lordship. In the meantime, as is the cus- 
 tom with people in distress, I endeavour to support my drooping 
 spirits by the brightest prospect I can figure myself of better 
 times. I had once, may it please your lordship, a French cook, 
 who quitted me with reluctance, and whom her importunities 
 have prevailed on me to say, I would take her back again, should 
 that Providence which supplied the late Dr. Squintura, of reve- 
 rend memory, with leg of mutton and turnips, vouchsafe, at 
 some future period, to grant any thing to cook ; in the meantime, 
 I should be glad to send her out any where, where she could 
 pick up a few crumbs of science, as a man who finds himself 
 unable to maintain his horse in the stable the whole year round, 
 is glad during a certain part of the year to pack ofi"the beast to 
 a salt marsh, or a straw-yard. Your lordship's kitchen has ever 
 been regarded by the best judges as one of the richest pastures 
 in the kingdom for the sort of cattle I am speaking of: and could 
 I be so fortunate as to obtain from your lordship's kindness, and 
 from the patronage of your lordship's chief cook, free ingress, 
 egress, and regress for the same, for, in, to, and, upon the said 
 pasture during the day, (for it is not necessary that she should be 
 leiiant or couchant thereupon,) my present distresses might, by a 
 happy metamorphosis, become the fruitful sources of future ad- 
 vantage. She is not altogether destitute of that measure of 
 science attainable by the superiority of her sex, (a remark which 
 I insert for the purpose of preventing this letter from straying 
 into female hands,) and, upon great occasions, such as that of 
 Camacho's wedding, or any other wedding, might not be alto- 
 gether unworthy of supporting the train of one of your lordship's 
 junior kitchen-maids. 
 
 Should your lordship happen to possess interest enough, through 
 any channel, however indirect, such as the one I have made 
 bold to allude to, I will not permit myself to doubt of its being 
 exerted in my favour, and with prevailing efficacy. In the ut- 
 most severity of my distresses, I have, through the kindness of 
 neighbours, been preserved from absolute want in regard to all 
 the necessaries of life, my baker and butcher having humanely 
 joined with a compassionate barrow- woman, at the end of the lane 
 in supplying me every Lord's-day, with a shoulder of mutton, 
 
 • Addressed to Lord Lansdowne, recotnmendinfr to liia protection a 
 servant whom Bentliam at the time could not affijrd to keep. — Ed. 
 
 31* 
 
366 SPECIMENS OF FAMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 supported upon a trivet, and forming a drippling canopy, distil- 
 ling fatness over a mess of potatoes sufficiently ample to furnish 
 satisfaction to the cravings of nature during the remainder of the 
 week. Should some prosperous and scarce promisable turn in 
 the wheel of fortune transform, at any time, the shoulder into a 
 leg, andset the deep-rusted spit to retrace its once accustomed re- 
 volutions, what an addition would it be to my happiness, on some 
 auspicious day, to present your lordship with the emanation of 
 culinary science reflected from your lordship's kitchen, and offer 
 an opposite, however inferior, tribute of gratitude on the board, 
 as well as from the bosom, of one who has the honour to be, 
 with everlasting respect, my lord, your lordship's most obedient 
 and most humble servant, 
 
 The DISTRESSED Occupier of Q,ueen SauARE Place. 
 —X. 314. 
 
 January, 1791. 
 
 My DEAR Wilson, — Nothing can be more judicious than the 
 advice you give me to write readable books : to show my grati- 
 tude, suffer me, who am your senior, to treat you with another. 
 Get business. Don't complain for this, time that you have been 
 preaching to the winds ; you have been preaching, you see, to an 
 echo : I don't mean one of your vulgar echoes, but such a one as 
 they have in Ireland, which, when a man says to it, " How d'ye 
 do ?" answers, " Pretty well, I thank you." What ! your notion 
 is, then, that I make my books unreadable, for the same reason 
 that asses stand mute — out of pure sulkiness. As to the book 
 in question, there will be another obstacle to its general circula- 
 tion here, which is, that it won't go to the booksellers at least for 
 a long time, if ever.* Be listened to in France 1 No, to be sure 
 it won't. But you seem to have forgotton, that it is the continu- 
 ation of a work begun before that matter had been ascertained. 
 As to the unpopular form, it was determined by the popular oc- 
 casion. If I give it up, I am fickle : If I go on with it, I choose 
 a form that is unpopular, and write books, that are unreadable. 
 So you have me either way, or to speak more intelligibly, qua- 
 cunqtie via data. If you have got a receipt for making readable 
 books, please send copy thereof per return of post, together with 
 a ditto of your own making for a pattern. — x. 246-247. 
 
 * In allusion to the work on.the Tactics of Political Assemblies, quoted 
 supra, p. 105. 
 
SPECIMENS OP FAMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE. 367 
 
 nth October, 1803* 
 Marche route of the dueen Square Place Volunteers.— Set off 
 on Tuesday — reach -Birmingham on Wednesday evening. — On 
 Thursday evening or Friday morning, retreat to Hatton. There 
 storm the vicarage, giving no quarter — after committing ravages 
 indescribable, evacuate the place on Sunday morning early — 
 continuing the retreat to Oxford. Take up quarters there, 
 Monday, and possibly Tuesday. 
 
 None of your ^Icandrumque Haliumque, Noemonaque Prylan- 
 imque, under the notion of helping to desennuyer the travellers; 
 for what is it that we go forth for to see ■? Answer. — Parr, and 
 Parr only ; a reed lately shaken by the wind, but now, we hope, 
 stout and strong again. Time, according to my estimation, not 
 by a great deal enough for that ; but more at present cannot be 
 found. 
 
 Stay the hand of the Vicar's wife, and say unto her — Slay no 
 fatted calves — the elder hath outlived that branch of the lusts of 
 the flesh, not to speak of others. The younger? he hath never 
 known it — step not, even although it be but a span's length, out 
 of the path to which thou art accustomed ; and remember we are 
 Rechabites. Is it not written, 
 
 Not improbably, a boy sent to me by Mr. Strutt at Derby, from a 
 place of his brother's CEilled Belper, six miles from thence — boy's 
 name unknown — age about twelve-^— may inquire for me at the 
 Parsonage, either Friday or Saturday. 
 
 Should death have disposed of me in the meantime, pay the 
 boy his expenses thither and back again, I pray thee, opening the 
 letter he will possibly havfe for me, and bring your action against 
 my executors and administrators." 
 
 Again : — 
 
 Avtrvct^l ! ! ! 
 
 Your friend Homer, in his quality of vates sacer, added to his 
 gift of poetry a spice of the gift of prophecy. One proof of it is, 
 that, foreseeing the provocation you would one day give me, he 
 provided me with so apposite a nom de guerre to belabour you 
 with. As for my name, if it be not in the Iliad, like yours, tol- 
 idem verbis, it will be found there totidem Uteris, which, in these 
 cases, (you know,) is quite sufficient. Have at you, then, once 
 
 * Addressed to Dr. Parr. The reader will recognise in this letter a 
 very happy adaptation of the literary habits of the person to whom it was 
 addressed. — Ed. 
 
368 SPECIMENS OP FAMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 more, il Avirjrccg I ! ! ! There you have it again, up to your very 
 gizzard. 
 
 When as the prophesied, by the prophesied — Oh, thou false 
 prophet ! by thee prophesied — 5th of January approached, Her- 
 bert [Koe] and I began counting the hours. Phoebus's horns 
 had scarce reached their first bating place, when I detached him 
 (not Phoebus, but Herbert) in quest of you to the fatal place, tlie 
 Carian Street, — to the cainpos uhi Troja fuil, — from whence 
 he brought me, alas ! — (the alas ! should have come earlier : 
 pray, put it in the proper place) — the beggarly account of empty 
 boxes! When a disappointment falls on me, — to spite it, in 
 return for its spiting me, — I endeavour to laugh it off as well as I 
 can. So accordingly I did, and by these presents do, by this : 
 but in serious and sober sadness, it was a grievous one. Ask 
 Herbert else, when the next fatalis dies comes (the 5th of May, 
 is it not ?)— ask him, who, being the younger, should, according 
 to the old rule, be the honester of the two — or rather, clap your 
 own sacerdotal hand to your own sacerdotal gizzard, and ask 
 that. 
 
 Nor yet art thou the only slippery card, on which it has pleased 
 the vate.s to exercise his prophetic talent. In a cover, franked by 
 my old friend Phil. Metcalf, (one of Sam Johnson's executors,) I 
 sent to Hatton, as per order of your reverence, in iisum rav <I>o|iia, 
 two months ago. Citizen Dumont's letters. In' all this time Ro- 
 miUy has neither received nor heard of them : a fortnight, I think, 
 or thereabouts, was the time indicated. He has sent Mercury to 
 me express upon this single subject ; and it is under the spur of 
 the god that I write this to you. C. Pox, if Fame is to be be- 
 lieved, has a turn, or head as men say, for forgetting things, — at 
 least such little things ; and this is what his friend Homer made 
 known to the world, though it has never been found out till now, 
 (for the best prophet, I need not tell you, is nothing without a 
 good interpreter,) in the line which beginneth, *i)|<>5 s -v £^«Ai)v, 
 which was What the old man in the Sptclalor had in view, when, 
 shaking his own head, he cried out to his son, " Ah, Jack, Jack, thou 
 hast a head, and so has a pin." How clear an insight must the 
 bard have had into futurity, when the two most illustrious charac- 
 ters of the present age could thus be designated even by their very 
 names! No contortions, no translations necessary :~not lo-o?, but 
 n«f(5; and in the case of a spot in thesun, Auira-ajis: — not Aa»3-ii|, 
 but <I>o|o;. The name of ^olos, in particular, is become so familiar 
 to him, as to have passed already, you see, into a proverb. How 
 deplorable the hallucinations of the scholiasts and lexicographers, 
 who have mistaken the proper name for an adjective, and ima- 
 
SPECIMENS OP FiMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE. 369 
 
 gained a physical noun to affix to it. If the case were among 
 those in which error finds an excuse in invincibility, they might 
 perhaps take the benefit of it, — such of them, I mean, whose re- 
 spective flourishing times have been anterior to the present age, — 
 for nothing less than a prophetic view of the subject could have 
 set them right ; and well they might plead, that the spirit of pro- 
 phecy never descended upon them. But I am in your rever- 
 ence's judgment, whether in a case of prophecy, and errors there- 
 upon assigned, invmcibility be a pleadable. 
 
 This puts me in mind of a system which, like the Mliance and 
 the Divine Legation, had a considerable run when it first came 
 out; but which, notwithstanding the ingenuity of it, ant^ the 
 high reputation of the author, was never made out in such a man- 
 ner as to exhibit itself clear of all objections to my weak eyes, 
 I mean Dean Swift's hypothesis about the derivation of the Greek 
 from the English language: a proposition which, after all the 
 proofs that were collected in support of it, did not appear to me 
 to be established upon any more solid grounds, than Dr. "Vincent's 
 hypothesis about the Greek verb — " Alexander the Great," not 
 being deducible from " All eggs under the Grate," or even "Archi- 
 medes" from " Hark ye maids," (and so of the rest,) without con- 
 siderable violence to language ; not to speak of the chronological 
 difficulties which, to my satisfaction, were never thoroughly 
 cleared up. 
 
 Compare that hypothesis with — I will not say the hypothesis, 
 for it is a matter of simple observation ; I claim no merit in it 
 — the Homeric prophecy. Look at it, you find it all broad day- 
 light : not mere etymology, but actual orthoepy : — and as for 
 chronological difficulties, here, ex natura rei, they have no place. 
 
 Dispel your fears, my friend : my inspiration has at length run 
 itself out of breath. Should it find you incredulous (we are 
 neither of us intolerant'^) fear not from me either excommunication 
 or fireemunire. The worse punishment I would inflict upon 
 you, had I pandora's box, with its whole contents, under my 
 arm, would be imprisonment from the hour of five to eleven in 
 Q.ueen Square Place. — x. 411-412. 
 
 Q. S. P- [Queen Square Place,] September, 1820.* 
 Dear Sir,— Now that you have taken me under your protec- 
 tion, there are some hopes for me. I am a hard-working, pains- 
 taking man : a law-maker by trade — a shoemaker is a better one 
 by half— not very well to do in the world at present : wish to get 
 
 * Address to Dr. Bowring. 
 
370 SPECIMENS OP FAMILIAR CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 on a little : have served seven apprenticeships, and not opened 
 shop yet ; make goods upon a new pattern : would be glad to 
 give satisfaction : any thing they may be thought wanting in, in 
 quality, should be made up for in cheapness : under your favour 
 could get up some choice articles for the Spanish market : would 
 not interfere with my protector : scorn any such thing : mine a 
 different line : would allow a per centage for agency, if agreeable. 
 A few samples were circulated some time ago by an agent of 
 mine, M. Dumont of Geneva : think they were approved of. He 
 has set up for himself, and got a job there. I let him have some 
 of my tools and materials. He was forced to take in partners. 
 They had been so used to the old way, that they were a little 
 awkward at the new one : they have been coming out by degrees ; 
 still it is but up-hill work. He would have had me take the job 
 in hand and go through it. If I lived, so perhaps I might one 
 of these days, rather than the thing should not be done ; but the 
 market there is so narrow. Spain ! Spain ! there is something 
 like a market ! An order from that country would make a man 
 work. early and late. — x. 316. 
 
 Q.S. P., nth February, 1828. 
 
 Francis,* — I see how it is with you. You don't know where 
 to go for a dinner ; and so you are for coming to me. I hear 
 you have been idler than usual, since you were in my service ; 
 always running after the hounds, whenever you could get any 
 body tp trust you with a horse. I hear you are got among the 
 Tories, and that you said once you were one of them : you must 
 have been in your cups. You had been reading High Life below 
 Stairs, I suppose, and wanted them to call you Lord Burdett. 
 You have always had a hankering after bad company, whatever 
 I could do to keep you out of it. You want to tell me a cock- 
 and-a-buU story about that fellow Brougham. * * * I always 
 thought you a cunning fellow ; but I never thought it would have 
 come to this. You want to be, once more, besides getting a 
 bellyfull, as great a man as . — x. 592. 
 
 * Sit Francis Burdett. 
 
AN OUTLINE 
 
 OPINIONS OF JEREMY BENTHAM, 
 
 ON THE PRINCIPAL 
 
 SUBJECTS DISCUSSED IN HIS WORKS. 
 
 *^* The following Outline is abridged from an Introdaction to the 
 Study of Bentham's Works, by the Editor of this Selection, printed 
 in the Collected Edition of the Works. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Section I. — The Greatest Happiness Principle, 
 . Section II.— Principles of Morals and Legislation, 
 Section III. — The Pursuit of Truth.^Fallacies. — Principles 
 
 of Evidence, 
 
 Section IV.-{-Systera of Government, 
 
 Section V. — Law Reform, 
 
 Section VI.— Principles of Punishment, 
 
 Section VII. — Poor Laws, Education, and other Institutions 
 
 for National Amelioration, 
 
 Section VIII. — International Law, .... 
 Section IX. — Political Economy, .... 
 Section X. — Logic and Mettiphysics, 
 
 373 
 382 
 
 388 
 395 
 400 
 407 
 
 415 
 421 
 424 
 
 427 
 
AN OUTLINE 
 
 OPINIONS OF JEREMY BENTHAM. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 THE GREATEST-HAPPINESS PRINCIPLE. 
 
 It appeared to Bentham, at an early period of his life, that the Philo- 
 snphy of human action was incomplete, until some general principles 
 should be discovered, to which the actions of mankind ought all to tend. 
 The way had been so far cleared by the Inductive system of Philoso- 
 phy. Bacon laid down the grand and general law, that experiment is 
 the means of obtaining a knowledge of what is true; but a question 
 was left to be answered — to what end men, after having achieved the 
 knowlege of what is true, should use that knowledge] It was clear, 
 that though experiment might teach us how to achieve that end when 
 once pointed out, it could not bo the means of discovering the end itself; 
 for the very supposal of an end predicates something, not sought after, 
 but predetermined. It was after rriuch thought that he decided that 
 the end in view ought to be the creation of the greatest possible 
 amount of happiness to the human raie. The word " utility," was 
 the first shape in which the end presented itself;* but this term left; 
 the question " what constitutes utility" an open one. The answer to 
 — what constitutes utility 1 and the more abstract principle afterwards 
 adopted, were one and the same. 'JThnt ia ^seful which , taking all 
 times and all persons into consider ation, leaves a balance ot liappiiTPSS': 
 andT— the ctea tinn .nfUiMUargesT possi DI^g~W a^ffeg;g□lafiR^less— be- 
 came the Author's description or the rignt eiid of human actions. The 
 manner in which he stated his axiom was at first in the words, "The 
 greatest happiness of the greatest number," or " The greatest possi- 
 ble happiness of the greatest possible number;" but as there were 
 here two conflicting elements of extent — the intensity of the happi- 
 ness and the number of persons among whom it is dispersed, the re- 
 spective limits of which could not be fixed, the simple expression 
 The greatest happiness was determined on. He was quite aware 
 that this principle is liable to the imperfection characteristic of all 
 axioms. It was simply, like others of its kind, the closest approach to 
 the abstract that could be made by reasoning. Logic could tender to 
 
 * See the Fragment on Government, Works, vol. i. p. 260, et seq. 
 
 32 
 
374 
 
 OUTLINE OP BENTHAM 3 OPINIONS. 
 
 no support; it must itself be the base on which reasoning should rest ; 
 and unless in so far as he could obtain admission for it, it must remain 
 unproductive of good. 
 
 But it was not simply to the announcement of his first principle that 
 Bentham trusted for its adoption, but to the influence it would have 
 on the minds of his readers when they studied the terms in which he 
 brought it out in detail. And this brings us to examine the extent to 
 which the author lays claim to the merit of originality. It was not 
 the principle itself, that constituted his discovery, IjuthisrjgJdsaA?. 
 herence to it in all his expositions:— his never losing agjftt^]^ it in 
 what he dldirtBis Blf or cffU'ed u'p6n*others'to"do. He did not sayTiiat 
 the world had" ffitherto- been ig'noranr'of such a 'pFincipIeTEe found 
 the theory of utility to a certain extent promulgated by Hume, and 
 references to the " greatest happiness" in the works of Beccaria and 
 of Priestley ; while something like the Utilitarian Principle is an- 
 nounced at the commencement of the Nicomachean Ethics. He found 
 indeed that it was at the root of all systems of religion and morality; 
 that all codes of law were more or less founded upon it : and that it 
 was, in all places and at all times, an unseen and unacknowledged 
 guide to human action. But he was the first to bring forth this guide, 
 to prove to the world that it would be followed implicitly, and to show- 
 that hitherto, from not keeping their guide in view, men had often 
 wandered form the right path. " The good of the community," " the 
 interests of the public," " the welfare of mankind," all expressions to 
 be found in the mouths of those who talk of the proper ends of action, 
 were so many acknowledgments of the greatest-happiness principle, 
 and vague attempts to embody it. There is here an apt parallel with 
 the philosophy of Bacon. Long before his day experiments were 
 made, and thinkers, even in their emptiest theories, in some shape or 
 other looked to experience. Fact was then, as now, the source of 
 knowledge ; but for want of an acquaintance with what their source 
 of knowledge really was, men wandered about among vague theories, 
 and Bacon was the first to discover, that wherever experience and the 
 induction from it are lost sight of, there is no check to the errors of 
 thought. In like manner does TJentlinmsh my, that , w hRn the greatest 
 happiness-ef-BiajitiudJslost sight of, iiTthe pursuitofriiory iiiiuieJialS" 
 ends^ltreTe-is-DoxJiaeEESre-^eTTation ot liuTsrafTact' 
 
 LlUll. ' 
 
 There is, perhaps, no bettemrustfatron of the operation of the uti- 
 litarian principle in minds which are ignorant of, or do not acknow- 
 ledge its existence, than in the appreciation which Bentham's works 
 have met with by the majority of his readers. His general principle 
 has received few adherents, in comparison with the number who have 
 adopted his detailed applications of it. There is no project of change, 
 or plan of legislative reform, in which he has not kept the greatest- 
 happiness principle in his eye as the end to which it has been adapted ; 
 yet there are many who accede to his practical measures, while they 
 repudiate his general principle.* There can be no doubt, that had he 
 
 * Among the various practical reforms suggested by Bentham, tlie following are 
 instances in which his views have been partially, or wholly adopted by the Legisla- 
 
THE (3BBA.TEST-HAPPINESS PRINCIPLE. 375 
 
 contented himself with an exposition of his leading principle, instead 
 of giving the world, on so wide a scale, the details of its operation, 
 he would have had far fewer followers than he has: and that, indeed, 
 it has generally been through the influence of his practical adaptation 
 of it, that he has brought his pupils to the adoption of his central 
 principle. 
 
 It is a circumstance worthy of remark, that bis philosophy met with 
 an .opponent even in the extent to which its leading principle was 
 practically admitted. The quantity of utilitarianism that was in man- 
 kind, had rooted certain opinions so firmly in their breasts, that they 
 entertained a suspicion of that skeptical philosophy which took them 
 up and examined them, though the examination ended in approval. 
 People lost patience with the system, when they heard its author ask 
 whether'theft and falsehood were hurtful to mankind, before he con- 
 demned such acts. When it was said that murder, if beneficial to so- 
 ciety, would be a virtue instead of a vice, it was indignantly maintained, 
 that under no presumable circumstances could it be any thing but what 
 it is — the most atrocious of crimes. That fact was, indeed, one of the 
 most broad and clear cases in which the utilitarianism of the world had 
 made up its mind from the beginning. Almost in all ages and in all 
 nations, men had leaped at theconclusion without a perceptible interval 
 of ratiocination. It was a startling thing to see so long decided a ques- 
 tion called up for trial, and to hear the evidence against it investigated 
 and weighed, before judgment was pronounced, as if there were really 
 room for any dubiety. The feeling was somewhat akin to the popular 
 cry which, in the case of a public and notorious criminal, tries to bear 
 down the calm deliberation of the judicial tribunal, and is scarcely con- 
 tent when the proceedings end in punishment, because the very vveigh- 
 
 Aure : — Reform in the RepresentHtive system. Municipal Reform in the abolition of 
 Exclusive privileges. Mitigation of the Criminal Corie. The abolition of Trans- 
 portation, and the adoption of a system of Prison discipline adapted to reformation, 
 example, and economy. Removal of defects in the Jury system. Abolition of ar- 
 rest in Mesne process. Substitution of an effectual means of appropriating and re- 
 alizing a Debtor's property, to The practice of Imprisonment. Abolition of the 
 Usury Laws. Abolition of Oaths Abolition of law taxes, and Fees in Courts of 
 Justice. Removal of the exclusionary Rules in Evidence. Repeal of the Test and 
 Corporation Acts, the Catholic Disabilities Acts, and other laws creatfng religious 
 inequalities. Abolition or reduction of the Taxes on knowledge. A uniform sys- 
 tem of Poor Laws under central administration, with machinery for the erection 
 of mendicancy and idleness. A system of training Pauper children, calculated to 
 raise them from dependent to productive members of society. Savings' Banks and 
 Friendly Societies on a uniform and secure system. ' Postage cheap, and without a 
 view to revenue. Post-Office Money Orders. A complete and uniform Register of 
 Births, Marriages, and Deaths. A Register of Merchant seamen, and a Code o{ 
 Laws for their Protection. Population Returns, periodical, and on a uniform system, 
 with the names, professions, &c., of individuals. The circulation of Parliamentary 
 Papers as a means of diffusing the information contained in them. Protection to 
 Inventions without the cumbrous machinery of the Patent Laws. 
 
 The following are among those of his proposed Reforms, which have received only 
 a very partial, or no legislative sanction, but which have, each, a considerable and 
 respectable class of supporters ; — Free Trade. National Education. The Ballot. 
 Equal Election Districts. Local Courts. A uniform and scientific method of draw- 
 ing Acts of Parliament. Public Piosecutors. A general Register of Real Property, 
 and of Deeds and Transactions. Sanatory Regulations for the protection of the 
 public health, under the administration of competent and responsible officers. The 
 -circulation of Laws referring to particnlar classes of society among the persons who 
 are specially subject to their operation. 
 
376 OUTLINE OF bentham's opinions. 
 
 ing of Evidence, in such a case, seems to be a trifling with truth which 
 frightens people into the belief that it is possible justice may be got 
 the better of. It was a leading feature of his system, that nothing 
 should be taken for granted, and that every link in the chain of in- 
 quiry should be examined. In morals as in mathematics, he consi- 
 dered it necessary to have clear views of the simpler propositions of a 
 series, as a preparation for the proof of the more complex. It was in 
 the neglect of this rigid system that he generally found the source of 
 popular errors in morality. Though men admitted the evil effect of 
 murder, they had not followed the utilitarian principle so closely as to 
 see much mischief in condemning a man to death according to law, 
 when a smaller punishment is sufficient : and while theft encountered 
 condemnation almost universal, the number of those who carried out 
 the principle to the condemnation of the wilful accumulation of debts, 
 which the debtor knows he has no chance of paying, was small. In 
 both cases, however, the proof of the simpler proposition was an in- 
 troductory step to the proof of the more complex. 
 
 Having established the pursuit of the greatest happiness |is the lead- 
 ing object which all men should hold in view, the next step was, to 
 find what principles there were in human action to be made conducive 
 to this end. In examining the real state of the actions and impulses 
 of mankind, and going back from particulars to the most general prin- 
 ciple of action, the philosopher came to the conclusion, th at every hu - 
 man^ being,i n - o ¥ eryn '<H-tfta ,which he performs, follows his ow n pleasure. 
 He had to deal with a multitude of prejudices, in his use of thiS'tCTlti, 
 but he would perhaps have hardly propitiated opponents if he had 
 chosen a new one. The very universality of its individual action was 
 against it as a general term ; for every man felt so strongly that what 
 was pleasure to his neighbour was not pleasure to himself, that he re- 
 volted against the application of the same word to qualify motives 
 which appeared so distinct. Among a large class of persons, the ex- 
 pression, " the pursuit of pleasure," had inherited the bad reputation 
 which has popularly attended the doctrines of Epicurus. It was con- 
 nected in some way with sensuality and mere corporeal enjoyment, 
 and stood in opposition to those objects and pursuits which the better 
 part of mankind hold in esteem. In the pop ular discussi ons on_this 
 subject, there is generally a want of observanfig ot thejjjstijrerto^n be- 
 tween--ptea6iIl^"arictt^»e^;jiTrrlTrTnTC3?S3^ pleasure 
 
 as an objecreDHffrr^er. Tlielattiris an unkno3ui..q.uantity!>^Ue-fi3f-~ 
 mer_grege nXs us with the arjtlimetical resuTts"ofthe experiawBBti'jJaliis 
 dedjacieiI3J:QiIlJHl2;;experienced pTeasuTesr* "Many a'man jnaJiesium- 
 se]f unjja^py ; but no~iMtr piirsues unhTppiness, tliSiJffTi one mayjie 
 ,jv€ffTrtimrcoeasrC2£]nSlMSQ^ """■ '"^•'~-" 
 
 Perhaps it may serve the purpose of farther explaining the sense in 
 which Bontham used the terms happiness and pleasure, to compare 
 them with those words which more nearly approach to them. The 
 term nearest to being synonymous with pleasure, is i mlitio n : what 
 it^pleases a man to do, is simply what he wills to do. By considering 
 it for a moment in the light of mere volition, we separate it from the 
 notion of actual enjoyment — that popular acceptation which is most 
 
THE GREATEST-HAPPINESS PRINCIPLE. 377 
 
 likely to lead us astray. What a man wills to do, or what he pleases 
 to do, may be far from giving him enjoyment ; yet, shall we say that 
 in doing it, he is not tbliowing bis own pleasure'? A man drinks 
 himself into a state of intoxication : here, whatever may be the ulti- 
 mate balance of happiness, people can at least imagine present en- 
 joyment, and will admit that the individual is pursuing what he calls 
 his pleasure. A native of Japan, when he is otfended, slabs himself 
 to prove the intensity of his feelings. It is difficult to see enjoy- 
 ment in this case, or what is popularly called pleasure ; yet the man 
 obeyed his impulses — he has followed the dictate of his will — he has 
 done that which it pleased him to do, or that which, as the balance 
 appeared to him at the moment, was, in the^question between stabbing 
 and not stabbing, the alternative which gave him the more pleasure. 
 
 '^0°° hiiatyj'c^_the result Qtjjut!denimBul8ey-w4w«lt.Qn&jJlej.wards 
 repentsjrfhaSttJjIa^^lSSuiSh^ij^^^e against ultimate happi- 
 ness, afe~thff"operaUaBS«:^idi peoplecair^i*r+e«strfa^Tfcy~al'ly to 
 the pursuit-oLpleasure. T^^I'"C!mntrtrimffgitrera-bftl<Mj«e-flWttdr-in the 
 mind in favour of pleasure, in cases which, by their results, and the 
 feeling which the actor afterwards ^expresses regarding thern, have 
 evidently been so much the result of want of consideration. But, un- 
 less it be denied altogether that will has any influence in such cases, 
 it cannot be denied, that what the man wills to do is that which gives 
 him, at the moment, greater pleasure than abstaining from it. The 
 acts which are called rash — those which are the effects of sudden vo- 
 lition, are notorious for their malign influence on happiness. The 
 imperfection generally attributable to hasty operatiorjs is perceptible 
 in them, Sy too rapidly making up his mind on the question what 
 is for his pleasure, the hasty man makes a wrong decision, and does 
 that which, in the end, brings him a heavy balance of ujisery. Sud- 
 den acts may be fortunate, but they are not to be calculated upon as 
 the most conducive to happiness, and the suppression of the habit of 
 doing them will be found to be one of the ends of morality. A gam- 
 bler may make himself rich by a lucky turn of the dice ; but the best 
 chance of permanent opulence is in favour of the man who practises 
 a rigid system of industry, honesty, and self-restraint. 
 
 The ternis,.£Aoice, and iJre/erence^^^are^seful inexgkinin^^ 
 meaftiilgof the"wora"^ZeaBMre; asTJsealiy BeihiwslCBougj] they areTiBt- 
 s8j55EpleteJC53""'T^'sh*"ssT»ii^JjHii^^ 
 
 than^QneJ-hirig-asIpresented t'O'Tfie'wrriVeach Wltints own inducements. 
 Between two courses";~*h-ie4i-a,-maB ■hirs~beforo-hinrr'h?'^dtjpts, from 
 pique or disgust, that which is foolish, wicked, detrimental to his own 
 happiness, and he repents of it afterwards; still, at the moment, it was 
 not less the object of bis choice, his preference, his will, his pleasure. 
 
 It is in the cases where the instrumentsofmlBaMe enjoyment are 
 giveiyULfiy one humag^ggj^go' for the saKejjJ„tae.JJaBBJlje^ of others, 
 
 sureTn itl^^^sopnSI senseT^t commodious,^ He^who'sacriiices 
 BelQacSe^^cf^oFBers Will te-BaiTToyieidtoThe Idi^Utes of duty, 
 of generosity, oiTfilimmiit^aC beneviJtiStiCBr'of "pafifiotisra, as- the case 
 may be r&ut geiien3S$^Eevoit|Jga;in.st ffttribafltig-to^W selfish 
 
 ,. •' ■ 32* 
 
378 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 motive ofthepursuit of pleasure. There is no harm — indeed there is 
 ifiTretr^OSff^^^iTtftrTeniisoreiilogy which are applied to the motives 
 of such actions. Bentham was not less conscious of their excellence 
 thlNj other moralists ; but in loolting at their direct and immediate mo- 
 tive, he found it the same one ruling principle — the pursuit of pleasure 
 — the doing that which it pleases a man to do — the doing that which 
 volition suggests. The misunderstanding of his opinions arose from 
 the defect already stated — the inability of men to see sources of plea- 
 sure to others, in things which were not sources of pleasure to 
 themselves. When Howard found himself possessed 6f an unappro- 
 priated sum of money, the first use for it that suggested itself was a 
 pleasure trip on the Continent; but on second thoughts he d?voted it 
 to the accomplishment of his benevolent schemes. In popular lan- 
 guage, he was said in this instance to have made a sacrifice of his 
 pleasure or of his enjoyment; and in the case of an ordinary man, had 
 Howard possessed over him the power of appropriating to the improve- 
 ment of prison discipline, the money which the owner of it had in- 
 tended to spend on travelling, and had he so exercised his power, that 
 owner would probably feel that Howard had deprived him ofa pleasure. 
 But the source of enjoyment and the wjll to choose il were fitted to 
 each other, and placed in one mind ; and who shall say that the choice 
 he adopted was not that which gave Howard pleasured* 
 
 Having found the psychological fact, that each man in all his ac- 
 tions pursues his own pleasure, and laid down the rule that the right 
 end of action is the increase of the sum-total of the pleasure or hap- 
 piness of mankind, the next question came to be— how the pursuit 
 could he brought to bear upon the end ] and he de cided that, as a' gene- 
 ral rule, the happiness of the ctmn\q\f^j: jf~^jou\d~ fieLve the greatest 
 
 chanee-af'gnTai'iremMtr-by-eatrlrTTiu^^ piember d oin o' the^ utmo st 
 
 totin;ci£ase_hjs ownT"T!Tifr'eoiicrusion7tha^ olpleasure 
 
 should thus fae~3e!TBerately set down as the proper end of life — the 
 great duty of man — seemed startliiig to those whose notions of felicity 
 were drawn from its most palpable, but least potent department, 
 sensual gratification. But here again, as in the other departments of 
 his system, he appealed to the conduct of all men — to the views of all 
 moralists — as illustrations that he was fcinndingr nn ne w systeqT ofino- 
 raHtVjbut merely clearing up that which.had, with more or lessofdevi- 
 auonTBeen acted upon and taught in all ages. The first greatjjoilli. 
 to' be k ept in viewj s,^ to distinguish between theplwswit-efT^mediate 
 pliihsiirn, nniji thp. ijnirig'^T^ywbit^^-fmhMf'iit. an eypeni1?t.ii7p"n?j?R- 
 setfTpa i "j^wlllhav e theeHecToP^ftrtnTTrg-ff'Bpltfn^^ 
 th e-W'^eTranSSSi:tmiST#aHTft'Wr--woiMMt««r^ 
 
 The'fSrnBIeis'TtTeTjpeedtllTtf^thedrunkarSTa^pt^^ course. 
 
 Heedless of consequences, they snatch at present enjoyment ; but before 
 the end of their days the balance of pleasure has turned fearfully 
 against them. The upright, industrious, abstemious man, has braced 
 
 * That this chavacterized an order of mind of which Bentham had a due app^edja- 
 tion, will De admitted by all who read his beautiful eulogy on the Philanthropist, as 
 printed in the present selection, pi 332. ',C 
 
THE GREATEST-HAPPINESS PRINCIPLE. 379 
 
 himself to resist tiiese allurements. He has struck the balance ac- 
 curately at the beginning, and at each passing moment of temptation he 
 keeps it steadily in view. When the opportunities of fleeting enjoy- 
 ment start up before him, he says, "No; I will pay dearly for it here- 
 after :" it will conduce to his pleasure afterwards that he his avoided, 
 it; and, reflexly, to avoid it is pleasure to him at the moment. V^hea 
 his-day s-are ended. ili£jiQoko f_Iife sho ws^,.^]a^g.j)fj,[gaaaEfi::::saj:i 
 increase to the stock of the happiness oi'society, to whiuii he has been 
 an ornament and^ rBmiBftmr6}rrt re]agC^ ConferredTelTcity 
 
 on himseifi lVIotaI5te--4wU-UmiJeS^^ffi!(y=di9|Wfs'eit 'a?£hej.,\v,(jj^_.hjit 
 the"taTan5£DEhappineagjsaUvaysthe reward which they hold^quybr 
 good actions. Be temperate — you wtir"secure "health ali'd'^ respect. 
 Make your expenditure meet your income — you will avoid shame and 
 embarrassment. Be liberal — you will have the good- will of mankind, 
 their praise and their kind offices. Wlien the teacher looks beyond 
 the world and opens up motives on which it is hot necessary here to 
 dwell, (for Bentham did not discuss religion in itself, but merely spoke 
 of it as one of the influencing engines of society,) the appeal is still 
 the same, and happiness in a future state is held out as the reward of 
 virtue here. 
 
 In the mere discovery tliat-it is a search after the greatest attainable 
 amount of happiness, the rule of morality is far from being developed. 
 The difficult problem. What line of conduct will be most conducive to 
 happiness] has to be worked out. The Author, lioweve!*, believed that 
 he had done much to facilitate this operation by laying before people 
 the_^ultin^ai%,-i»-place,of the. secoiidary objects of morality. He admit- 
 ted tliat"all the world — both the moral aiid the rihmorai pSrt of it — 
 were searching for the same desideratum ; but he maintained that they 
 would be more likely to find it, if they did not forget the 'object of their 
 search by having their attention distracted by the various matters they 
 encountered on their way. He found, that Jiijjhgje^li two distir^t 
 classegjjfjaig^kes are made. iSoiiie"act nastily, following 'the dicfiites 
 of pT-esent enJ6yrirenr-wtthomr^Sf|Era^TlT^^ these are 
 
 the iminoi'drTHenV__Otti^; after "a^'labonous itiyegtigaiisai,- diiMtlgB ' 
 scheme^whtch beiDg^acte3^'W3TO"a;~15SIance'6Tpain greater than 
 the pleasure^ these'We'Tffe-prop'miniters^^felse^nw^^ The 
 
 object oTmorality'anT'riioralcli^eflggioBs \s to'sHow the former the folly 
 of their ways, and to assist the latter in their attempts to discover the 
 right path. . It would be a very palpable mistake to presume that it 
 was the Author's meaning that immoral practices always bring their 
 punishment with them in this world. Thewoblem he works out is one 
 of chanGeat.noLQ£iiir?ct cause and ef^t.~hfe" liuiThtalhs ohl^ the^laS- 
 sibility of discovering a moral rule, the pursuit of which will giye the 
 individual the best chance of leading a ba})py life. 
 
 It is one of the evils of the imperfection of language as an accurate 
 vehicle of thought, that the full meaning of what is involved in Ben- 
 tham's views regarding the pursuit of happiness cannot be compre- 
 hended by any species of simple exposition: the student will know them 
 best by examining them, inductively as it were, in the various works . 
 in which they are practically applied. Among the elements Of the 
 
380 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM'a OPINIONS. 
 
 greatest-happiness principle, or of the utilitarian principle, he will 
 find characteristics very different from that pursuit of sensual pleasure 
 which popular prejudice attributes to the one, or that hard limitation 
 to what are called the immediately useful and r^ection of the orna- 
 mental objects of life, attributed to the other. There was no one more 
 fully endowed with the feeling, that every thing which lifts the soul 
 of man above the clod he treads, and purifies its elements of enjoy- 
 ment, tends, to the fulfilment of that end which he had set before him- 
 self as the right one. The progress of a system of intellectual in- 
 struction, the most refined and elevated in its nature which the posi- 
 tion of the individual could admit of, was one of his favourite schemes 
 — one towards the practical adoption of which he laboured with a zeal 
 worthy of better success. The gradual removal of the pupil's mind 
 from contact with those objects and practices in which man shows the 
 greatest amount of his animal, and the least of his intellectual nature, 
 was the peculiar moral benefit he anticipated for his systi'm.X£le was 
 a zealous admirer of what may he called intellectual discipline^ He 
 conceived that the minds of youth, in almost all grades, and un3er all 
 systems of education, were allowed too much relaxation from the 
 bracing influence of severe thought. \If it had been in his power, he 
 would have made every man a thinkei^^e would have tauifbt all men 
 to meditate on the ends of their actions ; to check their propensity to- 
 wards immolate enjoyment, to govern their passions, and to look into 
 the future.*j 
 
 Those pe(^ sacrifices of selfish mcjjnation, for the pleasure ofotherg, 
 which constitut e~TFiy Tines3T.^ood-breeding. politBH^Is'ahd'courtesy, 
 formed ■pafTSrins syslginlSSorality. *^heSe are-not'hnportaiirsets, 
 taken individo!rIlj;„jMt,ooijectively they are the iiiaterials oif which 
 much of-tbe-ifappiness of social man is created. He was not deaf to 
 the greater calls for admiration made by that species of disinterested- 
 ness, which makes large sacrifices of what is called personal enjoy- 
 ment for the good of others. He looked on the disinterested benefac- 
 tors of theif species— men rarely occurring, and highly gifted, as those 
 whose greatest happiness was centred in the consciousness of doing 
 good to mankindj and he conceived it right and just that the acknow- 
 ledgment of their services should be amply given. But these were not 
 the men for whom he could cast his scheme of morality. Greatly as 
 they raise themselves, in the unapproached grandeur of their minds, 
 above the people of the every day world, it is for these latter that 
 codes of morality mjist be constructed ; it is to the size of such minds 
 that they must be fitted. It is useless to ask whether it would be bet- 
 ter that men should find their chief enjoyment in something higher 
 than the usual objects of ambition; suffice it that experience shows 
 these to be the ruling motives, and therefore the instruments with 
 which the moralist must act, He who addresses himself only to How- 
 ards and Washingto.nsj leaves several millions of well:intentioned 
 
 • See the plan of a Cbreetomathie System of Elducation, in the Works, vol. viii. p. 
 1 tt. seq. See also the Rationale of Reward, in vol. il. p. 192 et seq. : where the diffe- 
 rent beneficial objects of /sncouragpmeni are di^ussed. See also vol, i. p. 569 et acq.: 
 jro\. viii. p. 393 ct. scq. 
 
THE GRBA'^EST-HAPPINESS PRINCIPLE. 381 
 
 men, with narrower minds and lower objects of ambition, unguided. 
 The economy of the world would be different from its present consti- 
 tution were it otherwise; and it is not inconsistent with an apprecia- 
 tion of disinterestedness, to hold that mankind would not bo advanced 
 but deteriorated, if all the shopkeepers deserted their counters to re- 
 volve schemes for the public good. The produce of tlie selfish industry, 
 of commonplace moral men and good citizens, is the fund with which 
 philanthropy deals on an extensive scale. Aggrandizing, money- , 
 getting Britain, gave twenty millions for the emancipation of slaves: 
 how could such an act be accomplished by a nation of Aristideses and 
 Epictetuses'! 
 
 The raaiii,difficulty-wiiiclUiaaJ3fisai5JIS.d jigSJMtillS^^ 
 ness principle, is in the allegation-,-4l«it_e5LcIimanjJn pursuing his own 
 
 greatest happiness, wiU.S3-CilfioeJj],at_ofoifeS.^.^"J 9s3tn?rp to call upon a 
 man to pursue his own greatest happiness in tiiis world is simply in- 
 viting him to pillage bis iieighboui-sof their proper fund of felicity.. The 
 ansvverJoJhiaisJlifi.^auiJ&4i^a,^^ 
 
 hasrunjSortotproKisiftBgfcWo^liiHcwlT'enfl ali tie cre\ijfj,boUi weak 
 and strong, to submit to an arrangement for short allowance. To A 
 and B alone it would be their greatest fiappiness, pprhaps, to haveilje 
 run of the ship's store, but there are C, auJ D, and E, and F, with the. 
 same inclinations counteracting them; and though A and B might 
 resist all the calls of humanity and sympathy, and might be even able^ 
 at the moment, to carry their ^int of preference by force, they would 
 run the~fisk-of--a-Snal accoun'tmg with the law. All, thei-efore, see 
 that it writ Be their greatest happiness to make an average division ; 
 and good~ship-economy will show how this is to be accomplished on 
 such a system as to make an equal distributiim, keeping in view the 
 number of the crew and the time they are likely to be at sea. Just so 
 is it in the world at large. Each man feels that the best security for 
 himself getting a share of happinessj? toxilivvay to a certain extent 
 to his neighbour. _„Suj;hTs_lTie"lj^^.bif_,B3arfi.ac lei!S,.in,,eyery portion of 
 the-gtobeV'amnit is in the countries where practice has settled the 
 proportion of'how much shoijld be' kept and how much given away, 
 with the gpeatesraccijfacy,"tHat the'end 6rmorality.hag_been best ac- 
 complished. ^^tr^~sU6nge0\eaoS^^S^i^rf^iofk~mhichjin p£ponent 
 
 could ff't3r^,perhajgSj_Ui_at_of^.4£§BaJHDJ.kil^^ 
 is foliovveaTTlTtmfFr, accorffinjr to oiK^Author|£Ogin^i^^^ 
 and unsatistoto^y. ZXCWe Jes^P^esI3esflSa,£4QcICj'.??.P!'l ''^'^° 
 will not refie]3j6Jj|igaJJmUiMyi^4U:£ik,lt^^ to the 
 
 exertion of Independence, and they are following their" liappiness in 
 their own way. Among such a people, the temptation to play the 
 pranks to which despotism is liable, is greatest, and, to say the truth, 
 does least harm. But if an autocrat were calculating what course 
 would produce him, on the whole, the greatest happiness, it is believed 
 that he would not find it to be in roasting his subjects before slow fires, 
 or skinning them alive, or hunting them with blood-hounds; and that 
 the despot who has taken the best estimate of a happy reign, is he who 
 has resolved to make his sway wise and beneficent : to do justice and 
 to love' mercy. But it is seldom that the embers of the spirit of resist- 
 
382 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 ance have been bo completely extinguished that no gust will waken 
 them into a btaze; and more or less, the fear of resistance holds the 
 despot in awe, providing in his person an illustration, though certainly 
 but a rudely developed one, of the counteraction which is supplied by 
 the universality of the pursuit of self-enjoyment. 
 
 There can be no better illustration of the wide-embracing influence 
 of what has been denounced as " the selfish system," than its extensinn 
 not only to all classes of mankind, of whatever colour or persuasion, 
 but to every living thing to which the Deity has given, along with 
 animal life, the capacity of physical pain and pleasure. Bentham-vyaa 
 a strenuous supporter of the legislative protection of the brute creation 
 from cruelty,* on principles which will be found mor.e fully explained 
 in Section Sixth. 
 
 SECTION 11. 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF MORALS AND LEGISLATION. 
 
 Benthamjnade a rigid analysis of the various forms in which the 
 fear of consequ eucesjjhiJ ii k ' r i iid rr'in j^ti t ^ jar^BTr^^ TnayTie'TlS' 
 own -indmdOjIjrgasurel"*airdTTa'vmg ranged and'^ToBpeffThem,' he 
 d i vided-thEnTTnto four^^ses;a«4«o«fletl^^ 
 as it WBTerw1itfrlrbtif(f a man from 
 
 are, lst,-Ttre Physical .^flstioflj^yiz., the bodily phehojnena, which, in 
 the course of human conduct, arise from certain classes of acts, and 
 punish the individual by the painful sensation created, or reward him 
 by the pleasurable. Disease produced by dissipation^— health nourished 
 by temperance and exercise, are the most common and the broadest 
 developments of this sanction, 2d^^llie=Ealki£a] Sanction, which ia 
 in other words the law of the latidTcreated for the "piinishment of 
 offenders and the protection of the virtuous, 3d, ThfiMoral Sanction, 
 which is the operation of the moral habits of the state of society Tie I'S 
 in, so far as it afFepts the individual — the difference between this and 
 the legal sanctijon will be afterwards particularly explained, because 
 the two together occupy the greater part of Bentham's labours. The 
 fourth is the Religious Sanction, acting through the Anticipative ope- 
 ration of future rewards and punishments.f The proper direction of 
 these sanctions constitutes the field of labour of a man who would do 
 gpod to his species. The medical man — not he who merely cures dis- 
 eases individually as they are presented to him — but he who investi- 
 gates them in the direction of cause and effiact, and gives the world the 
 benefit of his discoveries, is a labourer in the cause of the proper end 
 of the Physical Sanction. He discovers thesourcesof disease, leaving 
 probably to others the task of observing how much happiness a man 
 sacrifices by encountering it, and how much unhappiness he will escape 
 by avoiding it. The moral philosopher is the man who deals with the 
 moral sanction. As to the Legal Sanction, there are few men, from; 
 
 * See the VV^orks, vol. i. pp. 142-143, 562; vol. x. p. 549-550. 
 
 t For an Exposition of tile operatioiiq of the Sanctions, see above, p. 16 et aeg.; see 
 also Works, vol. i. p. 14 ct seq.; iii. 29(1; vi. 18 et seq., SCO et seq. 
 
PRINCIPLES OP MORALS AND LEGISLATION. 383 
 
 the emperor down to the non-elector wearing a party badge, who has ■ 
 not some influence in its operation ; and a right inflnence is developed 
 in the making of good laws, a wrong in the making of bad. The in- 
 fluence of the religious sanction is also, more or less, in all men's 
 hands, but chiefly in that of the clergy. It is, under some circumstances, 
 the most potent either for good or evil. Of its operation in the former 
 shape, no illustration will be needed in a Christian land. For the lat- 
 ter, we can look at all the crimes which have been produced by reli- 
 gious influences, — the great tragedy from which Christianity dates, 
 the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, the Inquisition,-the murder of Arch- 
 bishop Sharp, the persecution of the Irish Catholics.* 
 
 There are two main objects in- view, in those of Bentham's works, 
 which are intended to influence human action — the direction of the 
 Moral, and the direction of the Legal Sanction. The one is to in- 
 struct the individual as to what he ought to do — theother is to instruct 
 the legislator what he ought to enforce and restrict. Where the for- 
 mer has been the end ii> view, the science has been denominated Mo- 
 rals or Ethics— 'by Bentham it was called Deontology, from the Greek 
 TO AsoK, That which should be, or which is right. Where the other 
 end is held in view, the science is called Politics or Political Philoso- 
 phy, and embraces within it the art and science of Legislation. To 
 this department of his general system for the regulation of human 
 actions, by far the greater part of Bentham's works have been de- 
 voted. Aithough the Greatest-happiness principle be the end in view 
 of all his writings, whether they instruct men how to direct their 
 own individual actions, or teach them how to make rules for the ac- 
 tion of others, yet there is a broad demarcation between these two 
 subjects, beginning at the very root of both of them. That which it 
 may be each man's duly to do, it may not be right for each legislator 
 to enforce upon his subjects ; because the very act of enforcement 
 may have in it elements of mischief to the community, preponderant 
 over the good accomplished by the enforcement. In other words, it 
 may tend to the greatest happiness of society, that a man should vo- 
 untarily follow a certain rule of action ; but it may be injurious to 
 the happiness of the community in general, to compel him to follow 
 such a rule if his inclination be against it. For instancf, in the De- 
 fence of Usury, the lending and borrowing of money at hi^li interest, 
 for the purpose of improvidently ministering to exfravaffanco, is con- 
 demned ; but, on the other hand, it is found that the laws for sup- 
 pressing usurious transactions are so mischievous in their efl'eet, that 
 they too are condemned for precisely the same reason — their malign 
 influence on human happiness. Thus it is, that the rule of action for 
 the individual, and that for the legislator, are kept distinct from each 
 other ; and it is shown by Bentham, that much of the mischievous legis- 
 lation which he attacks has its origin in this^distinction being over- 
 looked. Legislators forget that they have to strike two balances, and 
 
 * ** Fanaticism never sleeps; it is never glutted. It is never stopped by pliilanthro- 
 py, for it makes a merit of trampling on pbilanthropy. It is never stopped by con- 
 science, for it has pressed conscience into its service. Avarice, lust, and vengeance, 
 have piety, benevolence, taonour — fanaticism has nothing to oppose it." — Worka^ vol 
 i. p. 7S, note. 
 
384 ouTUKE OP bentham's opinions. 
 
 not one only, before they act. The first arises out of the question, 
 whether a given course of action is beneficial to the human race t and 
 when this is answered in the affirmative, there comes the second, and 
 frequently overlooked question, whether the enforcement of it, by any , 
 laws within the power of the governing authority to put in practice, 
 will likewise show a balance of benefit? Moreover, as legislators 
 often forget to strike the second balance, they also often come to a 
 general conclusion without taking the two seriatim, and either omit 
 altogether, or fail in taking a due estimate of the first. But it is 
 clear that the law which is made without the first balance being 
 struck, as well as ttie second, must be unapt. Unless it be first settled 
 that the thing proposed to be done would be good if done voluntarily, 
 there is no room for propounding the question, whether it can be ad- 
 vantageously enforced. It thus occurs, that the field of Deontology 
 embraces within it the field of legislation, and that the two are not coex- 
 tensive, the latter being smaller than the former. From this want of 
 coextensiveness there arise mistakes in arguing from the latter to the 
 former. The Law is a choice of evils, because coercion is itself an 
 evil. This element of evil is not inherent in a man's voluntary acts, 
 and, therefore, in them, no allowance can be made for it. If,' there- 
 fore, a man square his voluntary morals by the law, he may act on a 
 totally erroneous estimate of what they should be. This he is liable 
 to do, even in the case of the law being deduced from a moral system 
 abstractly accurate ; and tha circumstance, that legislators are lia- 
 ble to make mistakes and erroneous deductions, increases the chances 
 against his being right. 
 
 In pointing legislation towards the distribution of the greatest pos- 
 sible amount of happiness among mankind, the chief difiiculty was 
 found to consist in the adjustment of the proper proportions in which 
 certain objects of the law, to some extent conflicting, should be re- 
 spectively aimed at. These objects Bentham classified as. 
 Security, Abundance, 
 
 Subsistence, Equality. 
 
 These have all to make, to a certain extent, sacrifices to each 
 other, and the source of difiiculty is in the adjustment of these sacri- 
 fices. There can be little happiness in a state where there is no se-- 
 curity for property ; but, on the other hand, if the right of property 
 were so absolute, that one portion of the population should be per- 
 mitted to starve to death ere the property of those who happen to be 
 richer can be touched, it is clear that there will be much misery in 
 such a country, and that a feeling of unhappiness, most vividly expe- 
 rienced by those who are subjected to actual want, will spread up- 
 wards, in the form of apprehension, among those who have more or 
 less chance of being involved by the revolutions of the wheel of for- 
 tune in such a calamity. Hence comes the necessity for a provision 
 for the poor, that the unfortunate may be preserved from death by 
 starvation. But the principle of security to property and industry, 
 on the other hand, demands that this provision he so regulated, that 
 it shiill never become an inducement to able-bodied men to live upon 
 the property of others instead of resorting to honest industry. As the 
 
PRINCIPLES OF MORALS AND LEGISLATION. 385 
 
 Author happily says, "The treasure of the comparatively rich is an 
 insurance office to the comparatively indigent;" but care must be 
 tdken that the insurer be not bound to pay till the calamity he insures 
 against has occurred. The law supplies this insurance ofSce to the 
 public by favouring abundance — allowing means for the accumulation 
 of capital, and protecting it when it is accumulated. The various 
 advantages accruing from the existence of capital are for considera- 
 tion under the head of Political Economy, (see p; 399.) 
 
 The principle of equality has a rivalsiiip, to a certain extent, with 
 that of abundance. The more extensively property is distributed, the 
 more happiness does it produce; for the amount of felicity which each 
 person enjoys is not increased with thfe relative proportion of his 
 riches. A may have nine times the richtes of B without having twice 
 as many sources of enjoyment. It would thus conduce to general 
 happiness if there were many small fortunes and few large; but here 
 security and abundance come in for their claims; Unless men be 
 assured in the enjoyment of their wealth, they will not exert them- 
 selves to increase it ;- and that abundance, so beneficial to the com- 
 munity, will fail to be created. But, on the other hand; the law pro- 
 duces distinct mischief by favouring or compelling the accumulation 
 of property in the person of individuals^ The former it does in the 
 hereditary system — ^the latter in'the law of Entail. The law, besides 
 its direct effect, has its bearing on the habits and opinions of society, 
 and the malign influence of the hereditary principle has spread itself 
 beyond the sphere of its mere legal enforcehnent. Legislation, instead 
 of favouring the accumulation of a fanrily property in favour of one 
 member, should have directed^ an equal distribution within certain 
 bounds ; and thus, both in law and in national habits, equality would 
 have been the rule, and the hereditary principle the exception.* 
 
 The application of the Greatest-happiness principle to Legislation 
 may perhaps receive elucidation from some accountof the most impor- 
 tant of the subsidiary principles which its Author deduced from it, — 
 viz., The Non-disappointment or Disappointment-preventing principle, 
 developed in measures tending to obviate disappointment, and the pain 
 with which it is always accompanied. 
 
 Among the cases in which he found that legislation, in its hasty and 
 empirical'course, had neglected'tostrilsethe balance between good and 
 evil with sufficient minuteness, was that in vi^hich small clusters of in- 
 dividuals came to be affected by general legislative measures. He 
 kept in view, that individual interests are the units by the aggregation 
 of which the collective term, "the public interest," is ci-eated; and 
 that there is no living being whose certain or probable welfare, in re- 
 lation to any proposed measure, should not be thrown into the scale 
 when its disadvantages are weighed against its advantages.! The 
 principle, that private interests should yield to the public goodj he thus 
 so far modified, that from the amount of any public good done, he de- 
 ducted whatever private interest might be injured. In estimating the 
 evils done to individuals, he examined minutely the pain caused by 
 
 • See Works, vol. i. p. 301 el seq. ; ix. U et tej. 
 t Ibid. vol. ii. p. 3S2. 
 
 33 
 
386 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 dieappointment, and found it to be, on arithmetical principlee, greater 
 in the average case than the pleasure of acquisition, and than the pain 
 (if it can be so called) of non acquisition. The income of A is taken 
 from him and given to B — A loses his all, but B gets merely an addi- 
 tion to what he had before. The wihole pleasure in the possession of 
 a source of livelihood is removed from the one; the other only receives 
 the secondary pleasure of an increase. Let A's income be dispersed 
 among the public — he loses all, and is eminently unhappy; while that 
 which constituted the source of his, former content is distributed in 
 portions so minute, that the amount of happiness produced by it may 
 be scarcely perceptible. On the other hand, so long as A is left in the 
 enjoyment of his income, according to the prospects held out to him- 
 self and to society at large, from the first, — as no man expected to ob- 
 tain any of it, no one is disappointed by its not being distributed, and 
 he himself is content. The non-disappointment principle is the great 
 fcundation of the sacredness of properly. More injury than good is 
 done, by allowing either individuals, or the public at large, to interfere 
 with that which a man has, under the sanction of the laws, been al- 
 lowed to call his own. The pain of disappointment to the proprietor 
 is the primary evil of attacks on property. The secondary evil is the 
 alarm to society at large, — the dread which each individual has, that 
 he too may be the victim of spoliation. 
 
 Like the other great principles expounded by our Author, the non- 
 disappointment principle pervades society in all its acts; but it was 
 his task, by a minute analysis of its principle and operation, to discover 
 eases in which its application had been neglected and misunderstood. 
 He applied it to the principle of compensation for offices abolished,. or 
 for any other injury caused to individuals by the march of improvement. 
 He was in favour of allowances to those whose official emoluments 
 were nffi;cted by law reforms,* and to the owners of slaves on eman- 
 cipation ;t and he even hints at such a concession to the owners 
 of proprietary seats in parliament, in the case of their disfranchise- 
 ment by parliamentary reform. j: In the estimate of the incidence 
 of good and evil on society at large, he saw that there was a clear 
 gain in a government following out the principle, that when a man 
 steadily and honestly follows his calling, and makes his livelihood 
 by it, he should feel the assurance, that no act of the government of 
 his country shall remove it from him. But he found a secondary ad- 
 vantage in the principle of compensation : it has a tendency to remove 
 the opposition perpetually operating against improvement, in the si- 
 nister interests of those who benefit by abuses. Pay off the incum- 
 bents, is thus a liberal policy, by which those who are most conver- 
 sant with the operation of any institution, are relieved of a temptation 
 to overlook or defend its defects.} The system is capable of abuse. 
 Offices might be created for the compensation which will accrue on 
 their speedy abolition. But this is an evil as much to be guarded 
 against on true utilitarian principles, as the other: and it has to be 
 remembered, that a people who take upon themselves the burden of 
 compensation, are the more likely to criticize the propriety of the in- 
 
 * See works vol. iii. p. 325; v. 505. t Ibid. vol. i. p. 346. 
 
 i Ibid. vol. iii. p. S33. § lliid. vol. v. p. 377. 
 
PRINCIPLES OPiMORALS AND LEGISLATION. 387 
 
 stitution created. The countries most liable to government abuses 
 of every description — despotic and disorp:anized states — are, at the 
 same time, those where the interest of individuals is most ruthlessly 
 overwhelmed in national changes. 
 
 He extended this principle to Finance, holding that, apart from other 
 elements of good or evil, it made indirect perferable to direct taxation. 
 It is better that a deduction should accrue to a sum of money before 
 it reaches the possession of him for whom it is destined, than that, after 
 being in his hands, a portion of it should be withdrawn. The opera- 
 tion of the principle in this department he found to be limited. There 
 were but few cases, such as that of the legacy duties, in which the 
 deduction could be truly said to be practicible before the money was 
 in possession — in the case of an annual salary, the mere knowledge of 
 the amount is nearly equivalent to possession, and a deduction before 
 payment differs little from a charge after payment. A lax on con- 
 sumption is another method in. which the principle may be brought to 
 bear. The tax is paid, in the first place, by the dealer, to whom it is, 
 in reality, not a tax, but a portion of capital expended in the form of 
 duty, which otherwise he would have to expend on commodities. The 
 purchaser pays dearer for the commodity ; but it is maintained that, in 
 doing so, he does not experience the same feeling of hardship which 
 would arise if the sum charged as duty were separately taken from him 
 after his purchase has been made. In the general case, a direct tax 
 is a thing obligatory ; a lax on consumption, unless it be on the abso- 
 lute necessaries of life, calculates on its voluntary adoption by the 
 purchaser.* This species of tax has, it is true, its defects, in as far as 
 it may impede or disturb commerce and manufactures ; but these are 
 objections belonging to the department of Political Economy. 
 
 A plan was proposed by Bentham for raising a revenue by the ap- 
 plication of this principle to the law of succession ; and in arranging 
 his plan he inquired into the principlesof succession, and the extent to 
 which the existing systems in Britain are founded on reason. What- 
 ever theorists may promulgate on the anomaly of a man dictating for 
 his property after death, or on the principle that when the man is done 
 ' with the use of his goods they should go to the state, the practice of 
 mankind in all places and times has supported a law of succession ; and 
 an examination, on the principles of the utilitarian philosophy, vindi- 
 cates the practice as a right one. He who has brought children into 
 the world is the person against whom there is the strongest claim to 
 support them; and the law justifies this claim by giving them his pro- 
 perty on his death. If children have been brought up in the gratifica- 
 tion of certain tastes and luxuries; in short, in a particular rank of life 
 and with a certain expenditure — it is better, so long' as no one is'in- 
 jured by it, that they should continue in the same course. The most 
 simple and the least injurious method of giving them the means of 
 doing so, is by continuing in their possession Ihe wealth by which the 
 luxury and rank are purchased, on the death of its previous holder.f 
 Let the daughter of a labourer be left without any pecuniary provision 
 — it is nothing but what she expected, she suffers no hardship or dis- 
 appointment, and goes forth to her labour with a glad heart. Let the 
 * Ibid. vol. ii. pp. S73, 580. t Sea Wpiks, vol. ix. gg. 16, 17. 
 
dbO OUTLINE OF EENTHAM S OPINIONS, 
 
 daughter of a wealthy land-owner or merchant be left in the same po-: 
 sition — a fearful calamity has fallen upon her — a calamity undeserved, 
 and heavier than the punishment of many a formidable crime. So 
 much for the case of individuals; but the benefit of succession operates 
 also on the public at large. The providing for a family, or, even if a 
 man have no family, the faculty of destining his money to what, pur- 
 poses he pleases, is one of the greatest inducements which he can have 
 to make and to save property — the one an increase of the general 
 capital of the community, the other a preservation of the increased 
 capital from dispersal. Were it not for the wives and children they 
 may leave behind them, there are many men taxing their heads and 
 hands to great efforts who would be idle and worthless; there are many 
 founders of great manufacturing and commercial projects who, but for 
 such a motive, would never have thus distributed the means of indus- 
 trial wealth around them. 
 
 But it comes to be a question whether the, law has not carried the 
 operation of succession beyond the bounds within which it is useful. 
 ^Between the children who have shared in their parepts' fortune, and 
 thq distant relation vvho never,h?ard of the wealth thrown at his feet, 
 till sofpe scrutinizing !a,vi(yer made the, discovery of ihis reljationship, 
 there is the greatest possible difference :tht;re are strong reasons for 
 the Jaw of succession operating in the, one case — none for it in the 
 other. On this principle Bentham founded his plan that succession 
 should open only to near relations, and not to distant. If the law were 
 once so established and known, there could be no disappointment among 
 distant relations, (excepting those to yvhom the law was ex post facto ;,) 
 but even independently of a knowledge of the layv, there are multitudes 
 of cases where the distance of the relationship precludes expectaition. 
 It is true that a man may adopt a distant relation — the same who, in 
 the present course of succession, would be his heir — as a member of 
 his family, paiitaldng in his luxuries, and acquiring. habits, a sudden 
 chepk on which, would be a hardship. This is true; but in the same 
 manner may a man adopt a stranger; and in either case there is pro- 
 posed to be open fo him the right of bequest. The line which Bentham 
 proposed to draw, is that of the forbidden degrees. ,He suggested that, 
 where the nearest relation to the deceased is beyond those degrees, 
 there should be no succession, except through bequest. He found in 
 this plan two secondary advantages; it would cut off a great source of 
 expensive litigation, (of which the country, in providing judicial esta- 
 blishments, bears part of the expense,) in the enforcement of distant 
 claims to relationship through obscure and conflicting evidence ; and 
 it would afford an inducement to men having property to leave behind 
 them, to marry. The plan is developed in the tract called Escheat 
 vice Taxation.* 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 THE PORSUIT OP TRUTH. — FALLACIES. — PRINCIPLES OF EVIDENCE. 
 
 Believing that falsehood was one of the main instruments of evil to 
 
 • Works, vol. ii. p. 585. 
 
PURSUIT OP TRUTH. 389 
 
 mankind— that a regard for perfect truth was one of the greatest safe- 
 guards against the various means by which sinister interest could ope- 
 rate to the evil of society, Bentham made war against mendacity in 
 every form in which it could raise its head. He found that the in- 
 genuity of sinister interest had here covered society with a net-work 
 of evil, through the meshes of which it required the most vigorous 
 efforts of the understanding to clear a way. He found a popular notion, 
 that it was in certain words used, and not in the act of deceivinof, that 
 the offence of falsehood consisted. The shepherd in the fable, who 
 promised to the stag not to give information of his hiding-place, did 
 not tell the hunters where it was, but pointed with his finger to the 
 spot. It was the interest of persons who had done such deeds to re- 
 move the odium from the act of betrayal to that employment of false 
 words called a lie; but in Bentham's view, men might stumble among 
 the ingenious intricacies of words, and he found no criterion of crimi- 
 nality but in the thing done through their means. Words, the simple 
 purport of which would convey a falsehood, may be uttered in a man- 
 ner and with a purpose to put the party right, and keep him from de- 
 ception. On the other hand, words signifying the truth are often made 
 a mere effectual cover to the falsehood they are intended to convey. 
 A newspaper, the other day, wishing to show that certain operations 
 abroad had been carried on in consequence of instructions from home, 
 stated that such instructions had been sent out, but did not state that 
 they had not arrived. Almost every species of commercial deception 
 is carried on in words that are in themselves true. When emigrants 
 are enticed to embark with their little property for a colony where 
 they are ruined, the inducement is, in general, some perfectly correct 
 description of luxuriant vegetation and salubrious climate, which is all 
 deceptious, because it is not stated that there is no means of making 
 the natural profusion available — that there is no commerce with the 
 place' — no system of inland conveyance, and no harbour. An auctioneer 
 lately advertised an estate for sale in Canada, "containing a qqantity 
 of fine old timber," in the hope that some one who did not know that 
 timber in Canada is worth less than nothing, might act on the adver- 
 tisement. Ail these acts have in them what ever there is of evil in a 
 lie. It has become the practice to refer to them as the " speaking the 
 truth, but not the whole truth," ah unsatisfactory expression, which 
 seems to intimate that they have in them at least a portion of the 
 virtue of truth. Let them be looked at simply in the result intended 
 to be accomplished, and so judged, and then they will be seen clearly 
 to be in every respect equivalent to lies. 
 
 As the effects of falsehood are of the most varied character, ranging 
 from the highest crimes to the most paltry and unpunishable social 
 frauds, there cannot be any measure of punishment for it, (of punish- 
 ment whether as administered by the Law, or by the opinion of society,) 
 but in taking the measure of the offence which it is made the instru- 
 ment of perpetrating.* A lie producing death is the offence of murder; 
 a lie giving an undeserved character of excellence to an article of 
 commerce for the purpose of making it saleable, is but a petty fraud. 
 
 • See " Swear not at ill," in Works, vol. v. p 187 at «».; vol. vi. p. SOT. 
 
 33* 
 
390 ODTLiNE OP bbntham's opinions. 
 
 Can it be said tiiat these offences are equal in magnitude'! Yet if the 
 offence be in the lie, and not in the effect produced by it, the crimina- 
 lity of the two cases is precisely coextensive ; for the verbal false- 
 hood is as distinct in the one as it is in the other. On this point Ben- 
 tham found the laws for the punishment of judicial perjury defective. 
 The criminality was tTirown on the ceremony, with which the false- 
 hood is decked, and not on the effect prqduced by it. To tell a false- 
 hood in a court of justice cannot be, under any circumstances, other 
 than a crime of high magnitude : but between the case of a man 
 swearing away the life of another, and that of a man swearing five 
 pounds away from its right owner, there is surely a greater difference 
 than between the saying t(ie lie with, and saying it without certai(i 
 formalities. Bentham made an accurate analysis of judicial falsehood^, 
 for the purpose of measuring the extent of their criminality by that 
 of their respective evil effects, and he introduced the new distinction 
 between temerarious and mendacious falsehood. Among those who 
 looked merely at the words spoken as the offence, when it turne^ 
 out that the speaker did not anticipate the meaning that would be at- 
 tached to them, or would not have uttered them if hehad known thetip 
 to be false, he was considered innocent. But Bentham on the princi- 
 ples on which he who fires a pistol into a church, or drives furiously 
 through a crowded street, is held responsible for the mischief he may 
 occasion, did not see any reason why the individual who maims or 
 slaughters the person or reputation of another by rash words, should 
 not be equally responsible.* 
 
 On an examination of the various processes through which the truth, 
 in regard to the merits of human actions, is obscured, the common 
 practice of giving a good or bad character to motives, according to the 
 feelings of the person who is speaking of them, presented itself as one 
 of the most common devices of falsehood. Results are open and sus- 
 ceptible of examination— motives are hidden in the bosom of the ac- 
 tor; hence those who love darkness rather than light will more readily 
 exercise their ingenuity in giving a character where its truth or false- 
 hood cannot be detected, than in examining that which is spread before 
 the world. But for an elucidation of this subject, reference may be 
 made to the passage on the "Elements of Human Dispositions," 
 quoted above, (p. 7-16.) 
 
 The petty insincerities evolved in the course of casual disputes, fo/ 
 the purpose generally of obtaining a temporary intellectual victory, 
 were occasionally the subject of Bentham's reprehension. He did not 
 consider that this habit could be compared in point of evil with many of 
 the other sources of untruth to be found in the practice of society : but it 
 had its sphere of mischief, and was consequently, worthy of exposure.! 
 
 In many established institutions Bentham found principles tending 
 io the commission of falsehood, and to the designed obliteration of the 
 distinction between the truth apd a lie. Of these the most prominent 
 are Oaths, in their two .classes, Promissory and Assertory. A pro- 
 missory oath, such as,an oath of allegiance, is an obligation t^-ken not to 
 know the truth ; or, if it should be known, not to apt upon it. Jt i^ 
 geiierally imposed under the influence of bribery and intimidation — at 
 
 » See Works, vol. vi. pp. 280, 292 et ifq, t See above, p. 255. 
 
PURSUIT OF TRUTH. 39.1 
 
 the. time when a man has the inducement of some benefit, such as the 
 appointment to oflSce — to harden his conscience against the iniquity. 
 It binds the individual down to a certain line of conduct, however 
 clearly his conscience, aided by experience and reflection, should af- 
 terwards be opened to the evil of the course. To some it is a drag, 
 preventing them from doing what is right; for they feel that they 
 have already registered a vow in heaven to do what is wrong. To 
 others it is a ready excuse for the wrong they are inclined to : they 
 have sworn to do it, and it is useless to tell them it is not right. For 
 farther illustration of this subject, as well as of the effects of judicial 
 oaths, reference may be made to several passages in the foregoing se- 
 lection.* 
 
 Since the earlier works of Bentham against oaths were published, 
 Legislation has made rapid strides in the abolition both of the promis- 
 sory and assertory class.f 
 
 Bentham considered the support and perpetuation of Foundations, 
 or Institutions for the inculcation of particular doctrines, to be most 
 dangerous to the cause of truth ;| and he likened them to funds for 
 paying judges to decide, not according to justice, but in favour of a 
 specified class of clients. So long as the system shall continue, of 
 keeping foundations " sacred," as it is called, from the interference 
 of the legislature acting upon them for the common good, they become 
 80 many centres of absolutism in the midst of free institutions — of ab- 
 solutism, where there is not even that chance of improvement which 
 may be afforded in the probability of occasional good men appearing 
 in a succession of despots; for the despots who have thus transmitted 
 their will to future ages, are gone ; and neither hope nor fear — neither 
 reason, nor the treasures of experience, can operate upon them to 
 make them revoke their laws. Thus, every man who is possessed of 
 wealth, by judiciously founding with it some institution properly cal- 
 culated to the end in view, may place a perpetual barrier in the way 
 of free inquiry, and tie down a portion of posterity to the amount of 
 knowledge and the class of opinions possessed by the men of his own 
 generation.^ In public national matters, legislation in some measure 
 adapts the increased facilities to the enlarged wants of the age; sys- 
 tems of managements make some approach to the improved habits of 
 the time ; official salaries arc brought to something like a proportion, 
 according to the state of the labour-market, with the work performed 
 for them. But centuries pass, with their train of changes and;improve- 
 ments, and leave the " foundation" unaltered and unalterable. The 
 
 • See p. 256 et ««y. pSe.e Editor's note to Works, vol. v. p. 188. 
 
 X Establisbments for tbe support and influence of a dominant sect in a civilized 
 country, are not to be confounded with funds for appointing propagandist missions 
 to barbarous countries, or to tlie destitute or uncivilized portion of a community. 
 Tlie former have a tendency to stop inquiry, and Iceep baclc the community in the pur- 
 suit of truth ; the latter have for their object the raising less intelligent classes to the 
 standard which has'been already reached by the more civilized. Apart from ques- 
 tions as to thesuperiorty of one sect of Christians over another, the religious opinions 
 of civilized Europe cannot well be propagated in barbarous Africa, without conveying 
 some portions of whatever, in the character of the people of Europe, is superior to that 
 of the people of Africa. But it by no means follows, that, in the same civilized so- 
 ciety, good will.be done by ^^ing one sect power and money to bear down another. 
 The subject of CJirietiaq missions was not investigated in any of Beotham's pub- 
 lished works. ' ' ' 
 
 § See Works, voI.U. pp. ??,303.. 
 
393 OUTLINES OP bentham's opinions. 
 
 legislature dare not pry into its operations, or ask what its ofBoials 
 are paid, or what they do; while the daily routine of the establishment, 
 and the very costume of its inmates, proclaim it at war with improve- 
 ment — a cluster of human beings, at whose gate the march of civili- 
 zation and enlightenment is arrested. The whole principle of the 
 sacredness of foundations proceeds on a false analogy with the stability 
 of property. Because it is good for all members of society, that a man 
 should keep, and use for all lawful purposes while[he lives, and should 
 give to whom he pleases at his death, that which he has made, or 
 which he is otherwise allowed to call hisown, — it does not follow that 
 it is good for the community that he should be allowed to employ it 
 in building a barrier to stop the stream of civilization and improve- 
 ment, and to keep a certain class of his fellow-men just as enlightened 
 on a certain set af doctrines as he is himself, and no more so. The 
 sinister interests which support the permanence and inviolability of 
 such institutions, are founded in the wealth they give to individuals 
 and the power of domination they confer on classes of thinkers. 
 When they are overwhelmed by any great revolution of opinion — 
 such as the Reformation — those portions of them which escape indi- 
 vidual rapacity are seized upon by the strongest sect, appropriated 
 by them to the promulgation of doctrines the reverse of those for 
 which the property was originally destined, and are then surrounded by 
 the same impregnable walls of sacredness and immutability, as if they 
 were still held in terms of the original founder's destination, and had 
 never been wrenched from the hands of those for whom he intended 
 them. 
 
 The "Fictions of Law," of which the English practice is so full, 
 were repeatedly and earnestly attacked by Bentham, both collec- 
 tively and in detail. The example shown to the world, of falsehoods de- 
 liberately, and on a fixed system, told in the very workshops of jus- 
 tice, and by those who are employed to support truth and honesty, he 
 looked upon as holding out a pernicious example to the public. It is 
 true that new fictions are not now invented — at least on any conside- 
 rable scale ; and that those formerly created have become a fixed part 
 of the law, and are uniform in their operation. It is still the case, 
 however, that from the nominal repetition of the fraud under which 
 they were originally perpetrated, they are a cumbrous and costly me- 
 thod of transacting judicial business. But they have a much worse 
 influence than this. By the obscurity and complexity with which 
 they surround operations which might be simple and open, they afford 
 concealment to fraud and professional chicanery ; they exclude the 
 unprofessional man from the means of knowing what the lawyer is 
 doing among the windings of the professional labyrinth, and they show 
 him that the law countenances palpable falsehoods.* 
 
 A class of chronic falsehoods had found their way into the minds 
 of* political thinkers, which Bentham, in imitation of the logicians, 
 termed Fallacies. Of these he undertook a laborious and minute in- 
 vestigation and exposure ; and there were none of his extensive la- 
 bours to which he looked with more satisfaction than this rooting out, 
 from the field of political thought, of the tares which the enemies of 
 
 * See Tor animadveriions on Fictionn, tvfra, p. 119 et teq. 
 
PURSUIT OF TRUTH. 
 
 393 
 
 truth had sown/ in it. He found that they consisted, to a great extent^ 
 in an ingenious perversion of the language of praise or blame, to make 
 it comprehend that which did not properly come within the quality ex- 
 pressed : and the permanent evil to truth he found to consist in the 
 circumstance, that by habitual use and reiteration, men came to asso- 
 ciate' the good or bad quality with the thing so spoken of, without ex- 
 amining it. Of his exposures of fallacies, an opportunity has been 
 taken of giving several specimens in the foregoing collection, (see p. 
 199, et seq.) 
 
 The Book of Fallacies is chiefly directed against the devices made 
 use ofon the side of corruption or arbitrary power. In a separate 
 tract, called Anarchical Fallacies,* there is an exposition of the false 
 logic with which demagogues, and other enemies of well-ordered so- 
 ciety, vindicate their misdeeds. His Text-Book, on this occasion, was 
 " the Declaration of the rights of man and the citizen, decreed by the 
 Constituent Assembly in France;" and it was while the philosopher, in 
 his retirement, was expounding the sanguinary and anti-social reason- 
 ing of this production, that the wildest flames of the Revolution burst 
 forth, and confirmed'his prophecies ere the ink had dried on the page. 
 In the storm of that eventful period, the small still voice of one weigh, 
 ing the meanings of words used, and drawing the practical inference 
 of vague generalities, wss not heeded. It is true that this was but a 
 criticism on the meaning of words; and the time was not one for theo- 
 rising but for acting. Words, however, are the expression of opinions 
 and opinions are the source of acts. The same opinions may again 
 gain ground more or less, and be expressed in like words, and amena. 
 ble to the same criticism ; and if to the mere.lover of narrative, or the 
 partisan politician raking out from the embers of the Revolution mate- 
 rials for modern controversy, the philospher's logical comment will have 
 little interest, it will weigh much with those who have the peace and 
 well-being of society really at heart. A large extract from the 
 Anarchical Fallacies will be found above, (p. 60-83.) 
 
 Bentham considered that the legislature, in dealing with the subject 
 of Evidence, had in its power the means of creating and applying to 
 practical use a store of facts, covering the whole field of human action, 
 and forming an experimental foundation, on which every description 
 of operation, from the proceedings of the Legislature and the judicial 
 tribunals, to the acts of the private citizen, might be beneficially regu- 
 lated. As the great means of separating what is true from what is 
 false, he thought the code of judicial evidence should proceed on the 
 most searching examination of principles, and should be most cautious- 
 ly and scientifically organized. To an examination of the principles 
 on which that code should be based, and of the aberrations of the ex- 
 isting law, he devoted two of the volumes now before the public ;f and 
 there is perhaps, scarcely any other of his expositions which has been 
 so generally adopted by all who have examined it, or which the Le- 
 gislature has so decidedly (though certainly very cautiously) shown 
 itself disposed to admit into the law of the land. The subject is di- 
 vided into two great heads. The first is that which is ordinarily 
 
 * Works, vol. ii. p. 489 et seg. t Works, vols. vi. and vii. 
 
394 
 
 OOTLINE OP BENTHAM S OPINIONS. 
 
 called Evidence— the succession of facts, from the consideration of 
 which a belief is come to on one side or other of a statement; as in 
 the case of a civil or criminal trial, when, from the testimony of wit- 
 nesses, the conduct of persons, or the position of things, a decision is 
 come to by those who are appointed to judge. This is called Unpre- 
 appointed evidence, because the dispute arises out of the very fact that 
 arrangements have not been, or could not have been, made sufficient 
 to obviate it; and the circumstances out of which the truth is finally 
 reached were not prearranged for the purpose of exhibiting it. The 
 other species of Evidence is called Preappointed, and consists, in ge- 
 neral, of what are commonly called records: authenticated statements of 
 facts, such as are conveyed in recorded contracts, registers of births, 
 marriages, and deaths, &c., reduced into a state of evidence to be ap- 
 plied to subsequent use, whether at the instance of the legal tribunals, 
 or of the legislatures or others, who may wish to make the facts so 
 proved the foundation of their public or private acts. 
 
 Bringing his ruling principle to bear on the first of these great classes, 
 he found that no species of evidence should be hidden from those who 
 had to judge in a disputed question, unless it could be made to appear 
 that more mischief would be done by the admission than by the exclu- 
 sion. The law, instead of weighing the matter by this simple rule, 
 has given effect to barbarous usages and prejudices, and to feelings of 
 antipathy and vengeance. Of the manner in which these exclusions 
 operate, through the ceremony of an oath, and the rejection of wit- 
 nesses on account of thgir position, their opinions, or their, character, 
 many illustrations will be found above, (see p. 283 et seq.) 
 
 The most mischievous of all these exclusions, he found to be that 
 by which a man is privileged to decline giving testimony which may 
 injure him. (See above, p. 280.) It would seem, to those unaccus- 
 tomed to its operation, to be an absurdity too perverse to have entered 
 into the brain of man, to award a punishment for an ofl^ence, and then, 
 on the plea of humanity, to take measures to prevent the criminal from 
 betraying his guilt It is quite true that there may be means of coming 
 at the truth which ought to be avoided from their mischievous effects 
 on society; but these mischievous effects can only occur in the unjust 
 punishment of the innocent, — the just punishment of the guilty cannot 
 be an evil. Torture is a means of coming at the truth; but the objec- 
 tion to it is, that the innocent as well as the guilty may suffer from the 
 operation of the test. In the case of a man criminating himself, it is 
 the guilty and none other, that can be affected ; and society at large 
 gains an undoubted advantage by the proof of a crime and the conse- 
 quent punishment of the delinquent. The leading principle laid down 
 by Bentham regarding the investigation of crimps is of the clearest 
 and most effective character; it is simply this: adopt every measure 
 for the exposure of the guilty, which will not involve the innocent. 
 This principle does not admit of confidential communications, by cri- 
 minals to their law advisers being kept inviolate, any more than their 
 revelations to their accomplices. Confidential communication.s, the 
 object of which is to defeat the law, have no better claim to secrecy 
 than those which have in view the commission of a crime. A chango 
 of system in this respect would probably make criminals less confiden- 
 
SYSTEM OP GOVERNMENT. 395 
 
 tial with their agents; but it is difficult to see what harm society could 
 suffer by an alteration which would only compromise the safety of the 
 guilty. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 SYSTEM OF OOVERNMENT. 
 
 To find out tbe best means by which mankind could be govecned, 
 was the chief object of all B'entham's exertions ; and there is scarcely a 
 work which he has written in which he has not some allusion to this 
 subject. His expositions in reference to politics are divided into two 
 distinct classes. In the- one he lays down those principles and rules 
 of action which ought to guide a people, supposed to have thrown off 
 all trammels of prejudice and established custom, and to be in search 
 of the very best form of government which a practical philosopher 
 would dictate to persons ready implieitl'y to adopt his arrangements. In 
 the other class of cases, in which be had immediate practical ends ia 
 view, his endeavour was to mould the existing machinery of esta- 
 blished institutions and opinions to the production of the best practical 
 results. The reader, therefore, must not take it for granted that the 
 principles and institutions which are developed in the former class of 
 works, are such as their Author would recommend a practical states- 
 man, connected with an established government, to put into immedi- 
 ate operation, however much he might wish to establish in the states- 
 man's mind a leaning to such opinions as an ultimate end of gradual 
 change. There are projects of practical reform in the minor works of 
 Bentham, adapted to all grades of government, from democratic repub- 
 licanism in the United States,* to Mahomedan despotism in Tripoli.^ 
 It will not he expected that any development should be here attempted 
 of the different projects of reform which he thus applied to such dis- 
 tinct circumstances ; but some explanation of the more conspicuous 
 features of his opinions on government will be attempted. 
 
 He held that the ruling power should be in the hands of the people, be- 
 cause the happiness of the people being the object ofgovernmentrthe 
 means of obtaining that object would thus be in the power of those who 
 have the chief interest in realizing it. The happiness of every individual 
 in the community would be best secured by giving every individual the 
 species of government be would like best. But as confliction of interests 
 renders this impossible, the nearest approach to such universal freedom 
 of choice is, to put the power into the handsof the majority, whose use of 
 it will not only be that which is most conducive to their own liking, but 
 will likewise be such as cannot be very detrimental to a minority, which, 
 in the case of such perfect freedom, must have too many interests in 
 common with the majority to be in any case much injured by those 
 proceedings which may appear to the latter the most fitting.LJluLall 
 the people of a state large enough to enjoy a separate government pro- 
 fitably, cannot collectively transact the business of government ; and 
 therefore it is necessary that some artificial arrangement should bo 
 adopted, by which the closest practicable approach, may be made 
 
 * See Works, vol. iv. p. 451 et teq. t !'>■<'■ vol. viii. p. S55 et teq. 
 
396 OUTLINE OF bentham's opinions. 
 
 towards acting in accordance with their opinions : hence comes the 
 Representative system. 
 
 Bentham was of opinion that no male adult should be excluded from 
 voting for a representative, except those who are unable to read. His 
 criterion of a right to the franchise was therefore equivalent to that 
 which Mr. Adam has aptly called The Knowledge qualification. 
 Bentham termed it " virtually universal suffrage," because it excluded 
 no one who chose to take the trouble of learning to read ; and it might 
 feirly be estimated that those who refused to make this exertion were 
 as unfit to exercise the right to advantage, as they were careless of its 
 possession.* There were other persons besides " non-readers" who 
 might be excluded, were it not for the complexity that would be so 
 created — e. g. people of unsound intellect, and criminals. Their in- 
 fluence, however, would be almost imperceptible — they would not 
 exist in any one place in sufficient numbers to be made serviceable 
 tools of; and their votes, presuming them to be given without thought, 
 or with a bad intention, would be likely to tell on either side of a con- 
 test with tolerably equal effect. Arrangements for excluding them 
 would be complex and uncertain ; whereas the criterion of ability to 
 read is easily adjusted on a simple practicable arrangement, which is 
 described in the Draft of a Reform Bill.f He was of opinion that the 
 questions whether females should be admitted to the franchise, and 
 how the political privileges they ought to hold should be bounded, 
 could not be satisfactorily discussed while prejudices on the subject 
 are so strong as they were when he wrote.J 
 
 Another of the essentials of representative government, is Secrecy 
 in Suffrage— 'the system of the Ballot. The reasons will be briefly 
 explained further on in connexion with the principle of responsibility. 
 In the Draft of a Reform Bill, arrangements are made for conducting 
 an election on the Ballot system, well worthy of the attention of 
 practical reformers. The operation is to proceed on a raised platform 
 in presence of the public and of certain officials, who all see that the 
 elector votes for some one, without knowing for whom. In a glass- 
 covered counter, cards are deposited bearing each the name of a can- 
 didate, a separate compartment being provided for the cards of each 
 candidate. These cards have each a joint or hinge in the middle, ad- 
 mitting of their being folded double, with the name inside. At the 
 moment of voting no one sees these cards but the voter, who takes one 
 of them up folded, and holding it between his finger and thumb in the 
 presence of the public, hands it to an official, who, without seeing the 
 name within, files it in the presence of the public.^ It is a necessary 
 preliminary of such a system, that all questions as to the right of voting 
 are prejudged, and that no scrutiny can supervene. 
 
 Annual Parliaments, and equality of Election Districts, are farther 
 
 * See Works, vol. iii. pp. 4G4, 470, 560, 565. t VVorks, vol. iii. p. 565. 
 
 X See Works, vol. ix. pp. 3, 108. Perhaps the following would be the just utilitarian 
 method of treating this question. At the present moment there is, perhaps, not above 
 one female in a hundred who wishes to possess the franchise. Tire extension of it to 
 the sex would be a sacrifice of the peace and happiness of the ninety-nine to the am- 
 bition of the one, and even the agitation of the question would be a tnoditied annoyance 
 to the former. It will perhaps be time for seriously considering the question, wlien 
 the majority of the sex show an inclination to have avoice in Parliamentary Politics. 
 
 § See Works, vol. iii. p. 571. 
 
SYSTEM OP GOVERNMENT. 397 
 
 arrangements of the representative system, the reasons for which are 
 also noticed in connexion with responsibility. To obviate the incon- 
 venience apt to be created by the annual separation of the legislature, 
 a plan is devised for the appointment of a "Continuation committee," 
 to keep on through a succeeding session the thread of the legislation 
 commenced in a preceding;* an arrangement which, in conjunction 
 with others for keeping projects of law once brought before the legisla- 
 ture from dropping out of notice, would prevent the public time from 
 being unprofitably wasted, by being devoted, as that of the British 
 Parliament frequently is, to the furtherance of measures which are 
 afterwards lost sight of. 
 
 The arrangements for the strict attendance of the members of the 
 legislature, and for economically adjusting the tiCne at their disposal 
 to their duties, form the subject of many stringent provisions in the 
 Constitutional Code.f It is provided that the executive ministers of 
 the state shall be present ex officio, in order that they may be ques- 
 tioned, may afford instruction and explanation, and may even originate 
 measures and join in the debate — but they are not to have the privi- 
 lege of voting.J That the superior experience and knowledge which 
 the judges roust possess, of the state of the law, and of the amendments 
 from time to time necessary to improve it, may be applied to practical 
 use, an official communication with the legislature is kept constantly 
 open to them ; and to prevent their suggestions from being neglected, 
 provision is made for these being incorporated in the body of the law, 
 if the legislature, after the proper formal intimations, do not interpose 
 a veto. 5 
 
 In the British Parliament much of the time that should be devoted 
 to the general legislation of the country is wasted on local and private 
 projects. Of these there are some that should be appropriated to the 
 Courts of law — others should be managed by Local Legislatures. The 
 arrangements of such local legislatures, in subordination to the supreme 
 body, are provided for in the Constitutional Code.|| 
 
 A hereditary legislative body is an institution utterly at variance 
 with the first principles of that republican system, which Bentham 
 considered to be the best form of Government in the abstract — the best 
 form that could be adopted, if circumstances should give an unlimited 
 variety of choice. But he was decidedly of opinion, that any second 
 chamber, whether elective or hereditary, can operate to no good. It 
 occasions delay. It makes rivalry and conflicts between bouse and 
 house, which tend to the public detriment. It prevents decisions from 
 coming clearly out, as between majority and minority, very often 
 making a small minority of the collective members of the Legislature 
 triumphant over a majority. The practical result of such a system, in 
 the end, generally is, that the one house becomes the originating and 
 working, and truly legislating body, while the other, finding itself in- 
 capable for good, has nothing to boast of but its capacity for mischief; 
 the extent of which is the more palpably shown the more useful are the 
 measures it resists. The services presumed to be performed by a 
 
 * Works, vol. ix. p. 170. t Works, toI. ix. p. 163-170. § Ibid. p. 316. 
 
 5 Ibid. pp. 431, 504-508. |! Ibid. p. 640 et seq. 
 
 34 
 
398 OUTLINE OP bentham's opinions, 
 
 second legislative body, in the shape of inquiry, and the deliberate and 
 accurate inspection of measures before they are sanctioned, are all 
 capable of being adapted to the legislation of a single chamber, through 
 the instrumentality of committees.* 
 
 In considering the proper arrangements for the conduct of business 
 by a supreme legislature, it was found, that very little improvement 
 could be made on the practice of parliament ; which, in Bentham's 
 opinion, made the nearest approach to abstract perfection, which has 
 been exhibited by any human institution. To those who are accus- 
 tomed to expect in his works nothing but censure of existing institu- 
 tions, the chapter, " on the mode of proceeding in a Political Assembly 
 in the formation of its decisions," in the Essay on Political Tactics, 
 will be a remarkable exception. Some extracts from it will be found 
 in the foregoing selection, (p. 104-109.) 
 
 This loose sketch of the leading principles of the system of govern- 
 ment, developed by Bentham in his Constitutional Code and other 
 works, would be incomplete without the statement, that, according to 
 his plan, the head of the government is the Prime Minister, chosen by 
 the Legislature.f Of the methods by which checks are kept upon the 
 power of this official ; of his relation to the heads of departments, and 
 the machinery by which their duties and powers are limited and con- 
 nected with each other, it would be impossible to give any thing like 
 a satisfactory view in this sketch; and reference must be made to the 
 substance of the Code. 
 
 An important feature in all the political writings of Bentham, con- 
 sists in elucidations of the means by which men entrusted with power 
 may be prevented from abusing it to the public prejudice. Consider- 
 ing all the transactions of the Political authorities, including the ad- 
 ministration of the jaw, as subject to two checks — the direction of 
 superordinate political authorities and the control of public opinion — 
 he searched for the best means of enforcing these securities, and found 
 it in the principle of individual responsibility. To this end, he desired 
 that every judicial or administrative act should be so done, that it might 
 be seen by whom it was done, and under what circumstances. With 
 this view he preferred individual management to board management. 
 Where there are several persons concerned in giving effect to an ope- 
 ration, responsibility rests with no individual, and cannot be accurately 
 partitioned among all. The relief from responsibility releasing each 
 individual from the anxiety to do right, renders the appropriate indus- 
 try and skill unnecessary. If one Mad and one pair of hands can 
 transact the business, it will not be better done if half-a-dozen heads 
 and a dozen pair of hands of the same skill and ability join in it. If 
 one person cannot do the whole, or if a man be found eminently skilful 
 in respect to one part of the transaction, and unskilful as to others, let 
 the operation be divided accordingly ; keeping this in view, that what- 
 ever a man is expected to do, or does, it be known and seen whether 
 he does it, and how. On the same principle, there are objections to 
 the administration of justice by more than one judge at a time; and in 
 
 * See Letter to Fellnw Citizens of Prance on Houses of Peers and Senates, Works, 
 vol. iv. p. 419. See also, ii 307 et seq.; iz. J 14 et sej. 
 t Works, vol. ix. p, 208. 
 
SYSTEM OF GOVERNMENT. 399 
 
 this case, there is the additional argument, that a difference of opinion 
 Icnown to exist among judges of equal- ranit, power, and means of in- 
 formation, unsettles the law, and encourages litigation.* 
 
 But the principle of individual action does not extend to the legisla- 
 ture. The object in this case is, not the transaction of the official 
 business of the country, but the direction and the control of its trans- 
 action, (or more properly speaking, the framing of the rules according 
 to which it is to be transacted,) for the benefit of the people by whom 
 the legislature is constituted. It might be practicable to take the 
 votes of the whole people for one ruler to be elected by the majority ; 
 but besides many other risks and inconveniences attending on it, such 
 a system would leave totally unrepresented some class of political 
 thinkers, which might be nearly as large as that by which the ruler 
 was elected. The greater the number of representatives, the greater 
 will be the number of persons represented, and the nearer will be the 
 approach made to that point «f. abstract perfection, which would result 
 in every body being represented. At the amount, however, beyond 
 which legislative business cannot be easily or advantageously trans- 
 acted, the number of legislators must be limited ; and thus the problem 
 of representation cannot be worked out without a certain number re- 
 maining unrepresented. But though there is a necessitated commu- 
 nity of action in a legislature, individual responsibility may be pre- 
 served — preserved in the proper quarter — between representatives and 
 represented. It is held that the representative should, so long as he 
 is in that position, be actually, so far as is practicable, the person which 
 his designation announces him to be — the representative of the opinions 
 of those who have chosen him. It is not possible that, on every ques- 
 tion which may come before the legislature, his own opinion will be 
 precisely that of the majority who voted for him. It is not, as a point 
 of morality, recommended to liim to adopt measures which his con- 
 science repels, because his constituents approve of them. But it is his 
 duty, if such a difference of opinion arise between him and his con- 
 stituents, that, had it been anticipated before the election, he would not 
 have been elected by them, to resign his seat. On the prospect of the 
 representative committing such an act of self-sacrifice, however, no 
 dependence is placed; and a system of arrangements is expounded in 
 the Constitutional Code, and the Election Code or Reform Bill, calcu- 
 lated to have the effect of removing, with the least practicable incon- 
 venience and delay, any representative whose opinion is at variance 
 with that of the majority of his'constituents. The most important and 
 comprehensive of these arrangements i§ the annual election of repre- 
 sentatives; by which, not only is the period during which a repre- 
 sentative can be acting at variance with his constituents reduced to a 
 comparatively short one, but a periodical intercommunication has place 
 between electors and elected, conducive to the interchange of informa- 
 tion regarding each other's sentiments.f 
 
 The principle of personal responsibility, carried through all other 
 departments of the state, ceases with the constitutive or the elective 
 constituency — the source of all political power. The interest of the 
 
 • See Works, vol. iii. p. 571 note ; iv. 125 ; v. 17 ; vi. 557. 
 f See Works, vol. iii. pp. 512 et seq., 588, 600; ix. 191. 
 
400 OUTLINE OP BENTHAM's OPINIONS, 
 
 individuals constituting the greatest number of the people is, that 
 the government should be conducted favourably to the interests 
 of that greatest number. Thus the general interest is each man's 
 personal interest. When any one is transacting that in which his 
 personal interest alone is at stake, he need be responsible to no other 
 person : and the inference of another will be more likely to lead him 
 astray than to put him right. The elector, if uninfluenced, gaining 
 nothing by his choice but his share in the results of good government 
 to all, votes accordingly for the man who, as a legislator, will act to 
 that end. But if his vote for a person who will not act, as a legisla- 
 tor, for the general good, be made more valuable to him than his 
 chance of a share in the results of good government, he will, in the 
 general case, vote in compliance with that stronger interest. Hence 
 the operation of bribery and intimidation at elections. Secrecy of suf- 
 frage, or, as it is commonly termed, the ballot, is the remedy held out 
 for this disease. As the candidate cannot know whether or not the 
 service has been performed, it is held that he will not give the wages. 
 It is held, that since there is no means of detecting the nonfulfilment 
 of his bargain, the bribed elector is in the same position, as to in- 
 terests, with the unbribed — i. e. his interest is identical with that of 
 the public at large, and in favour of good government; and that the 
 candidate, knowing this to be the case, will not throw away his mo- 
 ney.* 
 
 But it is essential to the efficacy of this arrangement, as well as to 
 the securing the majority in the legislature to the actual majority of 
 the voters, that the electoral districts should be equal. Where one 
 voter, by reason of his being in a small constituency, has as great a 
 voice in the choice of a representative as ten have in a large consti- 
 tuency, then there is the temptation to bring against each elector in 
 that small body ten times the amount of corruptive influence that will 
 be brought against each constituent in the larger, or to single the for- 
 mer out for a concentrated attack. Thus, even were secrecy of suf- 
 frage conceded, without equalization of election districts, so great 
 might be the corruptive power brought to bear against the small con- 
 stituencies, that all practical barriers in favour of secrecy might be 
 broken through.f 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 LAW REFORM. 
 
 The promulgation of the Laws is a prominent subject in a great 
 proportion of Bentham's works. He held that a rule of action wbicii 
 the person whom it waste affect could not make himself acquainted 
 with the purport of, was worse than no rule — a despotic arrangement 
 for enabling one man to be cruel to another — a project for catching 
 people in traps, for the advantage, or it might be the amusement, of 
 those who set them. The defects which the English system exhibits 
 in this respect, have had their origin in the neglect of the utilitarian 
 
 * See Works, vol. ii. p. 368; iii. 4S7 et scj.,547. 
 f See Works, vol. iii. p. 569 ; ix. 109. 
 
LAW REFORM. 401 
 
 principle — the neglect, in the preparation and execution of the laws, 
 of the very object for which those who malse them would admit that 
 they should be made — the good of the community. The ultimate ob- 
 ject, for instance, of the criminal law, is to do good to mankind by the 
 prevention of crimes. The immediate object is the punishment of in- 
 dividuals committing crime. In the discharge of this latter object, the 
 former and ultimate one has been frequently forgotten. A man com- 
 mits a breach of the law — he is punished, and all concerned consider 
 they have done their duty, and trouble themselves no farther. The 
 criminal says, that if he had been aware of the existence of such a law 
 he would not have broken it ; but he is answered by the old adage, 
 ignoratio juris neminem excusat. Presuming him to speak the truth, 
 is it not an immediate inference, that it would have been better had 
 the offence never been committed at all, than that, having been com- 
 mitted, the perpetrator is punished l 
 
 It is a feature, too, of unknown laws, that they have to fight socie- 
 ty by detail. When it is known to the public at large that the com- 
 mission of a given act will be met by a specific punishment, they, in 
 general, take the alarm collectively and abstain from it. They know, 
 perhaps, that if they all break the law in a mass, they could not all be 
 punished ; but, like Fielding's mob confronting a man with a cocked 
 pistol, no one of them is assured that he may not be the victim. But 
 a hidden law is a poignard — none know of the presence of the deadly 
 weapon but those who are stabbed by it, and their immediate neigh- 
 bours. Such a law will often exhaust the power of its administrators 
 before it produces any palpable effect. There are abundance of vic- 
 tims, but there is little proportional amendment. 
 
 There are two means by which the laws may be brought within the 
 reach of those whom they bind. The one is by making them in them- 
 selves simple, concise, and uniform: the other by adopting adventitious 
 means of promulgating them. In both respects there are many de- 
 fects in the law of England. The common law, which is the result of 
 the traditionary lore of ages, is in the position of the books of the Ro- 
 man law before they were digested under the superintendence of Tri- 
 bonian, — a mass which defies the industry of any ordinary lifetime to 
 master its contents. Its bearing iipnn any given point, instead of be- 
 ing contained in an enunciated command by the legislature, is to be 
 solved by the interpretation of multitudes of unauthorized comments, 
 or conflicting decisions. It possesses the additional evil, that, even when 
 its tenor seems to be comprehended, no man can tell whether what he 
 has 80 come to the understanding of be in reality the law ; for it has 
 received no authoritative sanction from any legislative power, and is 
 only the opinion of certain unauthorized commentators. 
 
 The other main department of the law — the statute law — is indeed 
 the command of the authorized legislature : but it is a command per- 
 plexed by unintelligible language, confused, gigantic in its proportions, 
 and deficient in internal facilities for reference and discovery. When 
 a la w is to be altered, there is an act passed, " to amend an act," &c. ; 
 when there is another alteration, there is an act passed," to amend an 
 act — to amend an act," &c., &c. There is a popular method of re- 
 
 34* 
 
402 OUTLINE OP bentham's opinions. 
 
 ferring to acts of Parliament as being such a chapter of such a session 
 (e. g. the act 57 Geo. III. c. 101 ;) but when reference is made in the 
 amending statute to that which is amended, there is no such abbre- 
 viated mode adopted, — the act is described by its title, as that it can 
 only be found by a search among all the acts of the session. In popular 
 language too, the acts are divided into sections, which are numbered 
 consecutively : but this faciliatioh is unknown in law, and conse- 
 quently the section of an act, when an alteration of it is made by any 
 subsequent act, is only referred to by vague description. In one ses- 
 sion of Parliament there are frequently upwards of one hundred acts 
 passed, and many of these will be found to contain upwards of a hun- 
 dred sections ; yet when, in a future session, there is an alteration 
 made on one of these sections, it is only singled out from the mass in the 
 vague manner above described. It will generally happen, that some 
 members of the official establishment chiefly connected with the ope- 
 ration of any series of statutes will have mastered their contents; while, 
 the public in general are profoundly ignorant of the whole subject, 
 or know it only in so far as they may have suffered by making mis- 
 takes. Yet there are collections of statutes so extensive, that it may 
 be questioned if even those official persons whose peculiar duty it 
 should be to enforce them are well acquainted with their contents. 
 There are at his moment (1842) upwards of 130 statutes, more or 
 less in force, in relation to the Stamp Laws. 
 
 The main remedy proposed by Bentham for the evils arising out of 
 the confusion and bulkiness of the laws, is in codification, — in a ge- 
 neral revision of the existing laws, the rejection of the antiquated and 
 useless portions, and the reduction of those parts which should be pre- 
 served, to a clear order, and to precise and intelligible language. The 
 chief objections to this project are not in the form of argument, but in 
 the simply negative shape of the neglect to perform that of which the 
 utility is so clearly proved. The good to be accomplished would be 
 great ; but the labour too would be great ; and no Atlas has been found 
 among ministers of state to put his shoulders to the task. Nor does 
 there seem, indeed, to be any individual on whom the responsibility 
 of the -non-performance of this mighty task can be specially thrown — 
 it is simply a great and difficult project, for the public benefit, unper- 
 formed. 
 
 While urging the utility of a general Code, and the importance of 
 a complete or partial reconstruction of the law, Bentham did not lose 
 sight of the immediate practical advantages of an improvement in the 
 system of drawing the statutes, so as to make them more intelligible 
 to the public, and consequently more serviceable as rules of action. In 
 an examination of the vices of the existing method of drawing acts of 
 parliament, he found that there was a departure from the common collo- 
 quial and literary language of the country, which, instead of diverging 
 from it in the direction of precision and conciseness, led to vagueness 
 and verbosity. The departure from the ordinary forms of expression 
 was thus an evil, not compensated by any advantage in the shape of 
 a,more scientific style. He found that there was unsteadiness in res- 
 pect of expression, occasioned by a want of fixed words having definite 
 
LAW REFORM. 403 
 
 ideas connected with them. The draftsman, not having in his mind 
 any distinct nomenclature, overloads his work by employing a number 
 of ^ords to mean the same thing, lest if he should restrict himself to 
 one, he might choose one which did not fully embrace the meaning 
 intended. In this manner that which could have been well accom- 
 plished by the use of one word with a determinate meaning, is im- 
 perfectly accomplished by the use of several words without any fixed 
 signification. Thus, there frequently occur such pleonasms as " all 
 the powers, authorities, methods, rules, directions, penalties, clauses, 
 matters and things," " use, exercise, apply and put in execution," 
 &c.,* all referring to the same thing, but by their number rendering 
 what thay refer to more vague instead of more clear. It is an ad- 
 ditional defect referable to this source, that when the same thing is 
 thus mentioned more than once, the collection of words by which it is 
 referred to does not happen to be precisely the same on each occasion, 
 and thus dubiety is created in the mind of the reader. 
 
 It was found that clauses of acts, instead of consisting of separate 
 enactive propositions each with its own verb, constituted, each of them 
 a series of sentences heaped together, the same verb serving for a va- 
 riety of propositions. The bad efl^ects of this system are two : it makes 
 the sentence too long for full and clear apprehension by ordinary in- 
 tellects; and it renders it liable, from its complexity, to dubiety and 
 ambiguity of interpretation.f 
 
 So much with regard to those internal qualities in the construction 
 of the laws, which might serve to make them accessible as a rule of ac- 
 tion. An external means of accomplishing the same end, is, in the Pro- 
 mulgation of the laws when they are enacted, among those whose obe- 
 dience they demand. Bentham looked upon this service as one of the 
 most unexceptionable in which the public money could be employed. 
 He considered that every practicable means should be adopted for 
 bringing before the eyes of the citizen the laws he is called on to obey, 
 and that, in their distribution, profusion is the safer error. He thought 
 that so much of instruction in the laws as could be conveyed, to the 
 mind in youth should be taught in schools, and that the books in which 
 the laws are printed, if not given gratuitously, should be purchaseable 
 at a merely nominal price. He proposed that the portions of the law 
 which affected particular classes of persons should, separately from the 
 general body of the law, be distributed among those whom they par- 
 ticularly affected. Thus, each soldier on enlistment should receive 
 a copy of the Soldiers Code,t and each mariner on joining his pro- 
 fession should receive a copy of the Seamen's Code.J An individual 
 conducting a trade subject to the operation of the Revenue laws, 
 should, on the same principle, have a copy of the Revenue Code. 
 
 He proposed that each separate description of contract should have 
 
 * Quoled from the Income Tax act, 5 & 6 Vie. c. 35. 
 
 t See on this subject, the extracts, supra p. ]81 et seq. 
 
 t See works, vol. ix. p. 355. 
 
 §lbid. p. 412. This arrangement is proposed in conjunction with a Plan for re- 
 gistering merchant seamen, and for defining their duties and the power of their 
 officers- Tile principle of these suggestions has been realized in the Merchant Sea. 
 men's Act, 5 & 6 Will. IV., c, 19. 
 
404 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 a species of paper set apart to be used in embodying its terms ; and it 
 was one of the services to be accomplished by this arrangement, that 
 the'paper should contain on its margin, an abridgment of the law re- 
 lating to the contract. In markets and other places of public resort, 
 the peculiar regulations of which might be of sufficient brevity .for 
 being so promulgated, the old Roman system should be adopted, of 
 having them legibly set forth on tables adapted to public inspection. 
 In Courts of justice, the forms of Procedure, and the respective duties 
 of the Judges, the Officers of Court, the Lawyers, Parties, Jurors, 
 and Witnesses, should be exhibited in the same njanner.* 
 
 To enable the public the better to comprehend the full tenor and 
 Cbject of the laws when promulgated, he proposed that they should 
 be accompanied by a Rationale or series of reasons. The necessity 
 of adopting such a course would, he maintained, make the laws 'them- 
 selves more rational ; for legislators, being bound to give reasons to 
 the public, must have reasons to give, and would not be likely to 
 frame laws on the dictate of caprice or tyranny. An acknowledg- 
 ment of the principle is to be found in the Preambles of Acts of Par- 
 liament; but as in this case there is only one general reason given for 
 the tone, as it were, of the whole statute, and not a reason for each indi- 
 vidual enactment, the check is, necessarily, very imperfect. Having 
 the reasons along with the laws, the public, it is believed, would not 
 only have more confidence in the justice of the enactments, but, see- 
 ing their application, would have a guide to honest and sincere obe- 
 dience, which the simple terms of the command conveyed in the law 
 itself might fail to provide them with. There have been many 
 breaches of law that would never have occurred, if those who had 
 committed them had been reasoned into the opinion that the laws 
 were just.f 
 
 The principles on which the judicial establishment of a country 
 should be founded, occupied Bentham's mind from an early period of 
 his life to the end of his days. In 1790, he published the draught of 
 a Code for the organization of the Judicial establishment in France 4 
 and the arrangements there suggested only differ in their being less 
 fully developed, from those which he embodied in the Constitutional 
 Code,5 at different times subsequently to the year 1820. In both, 
 there is a system of Local courts, for the purpose of bringing justice 
 as near as it can practicably be brought to every man's door ; the 
 general principle of admeasurement being such as will allow every 
 inhabitant of a district to go to and return from the judgment-seat in 
 one day. In both works, and in almost all his numerous works on 
 Law Reform, he desired that justice should be administered in each 
 court by a single judge, for the reasons of which a sketch has been 
 given in the preceding Section in connexion with responsibility. 
 (See p. 373 375.) He thought that the habits of a practising lawyer, 
 keeping the mind in a constant state of active partisanship, did not 
 forma suitable school for judges, whose duty it is to hold the scales 
 
 ♦ Bee, generally, as to the Promulgation of the Laws, Works, vol. i. p. 157 et tea. ■ 
 Iv. 455;vi. 65,523, 578 ' 
 
 t See Works, vol. iv. pp. 4S4, 491, 538; viii. 517; ijt. I. 
 J Ibid. vol. iv. p, 285. 5 Ibid. vol. ix. p. 454 it lej. 
 
LAW REFORM. 405 
 
 of justice with a steady hand. On the other hand, he considered, that 
 permitting any class of men, not trained to the study of law and the 
 weighing of evidence, (e. g. justices of peace and municipal magis- 
 trates,) to administer justice, was nothing better than a permission to 
 one section of the community to sport with the property and liberties 
 of all others. His own plan contemplated the education of a class of 
 lawyers for the bench. He suggested the appointment of deputies to 
 the regular judges ; and, through the instrumentality of this arrange- 
 ment, he would provide for those who have been induced to fix upon 
 the bench as their profession, getting an introduction, and the op- 
 portunity of practice and experience, as assistants in the lowest grade, 
 rising thence according to their abilities and exertions.* He held 
 that the judgment-seat should be accessible at all hours of the day and 
 night — that justice should sleep only when injustice slept. To pro- 
 vide this accessibility at the smallest cost, is the object of many mi- 
 nute provisions in the Constitutional Code.f The delays occasioned 
 in England by the system of circuits and vacations,' are the object of 
 repeated and severe denunciation. J 
 
 A common feature of both his earlier and later works on judicial re- 
 form is, the appointment of Public Prosecutors, and Advocates for the 
 Poor.5 The latter proposition is connected with the view, that jus- 
 tice, instead of being sold to the highest bidder, should be presented 
 gratis whenever this can be done without preponderant mischief. 
 The evil that might occur from offering the assistance of the law to 
 every one who might desire it, without cost or personal exertion, 
 would undoubtedly be the entailment on the community of ceaseless 
 lawsuits, carried on by all its litigious members. On the other hand, 
 there is the consideration, that it is not he who profits by a lawsuit, 
 but that the public have an advantage, in the establishment of a pre- 
 cedent, and the exhibition of justice vindicated. The expense of em- 
 ploying lawyers in the vindication of a just claim, is of itself suffi- 
 ciently oppressive: the addition of taxes on law proceedings, and fees 
 to the court and its officers, is simply the taking advantage of an op- 
 portunity for pillaging the oppressed. The opinions of Bentham have 
 been so far conceded to, that taxes on law proceedings have been 
 abolished, and that fees have been, in almost all the courts of the 
 empire, much reduced. Still the nation does not provide sufficiently 
 for justice being done to the helpless. When a man, because he 
 cannot afford to pay for it, is denied the service of the law to procure 
 justice, it is proclaimed that the nation is still only on its way from 
 that state of things " where he should take who has the power, and 
 he should keep who can."ir 
 
 He considered the system of having different courts for the adjudica- 
 tion of different classes of causes, to be most perniciously productive 
 of complexity and expense. The divison of the English system — a 
 
 * See Works, vol. ii. p. 22; iv. 357, 368; ix. 544 et seq., 592. 
 t Ibid. vol. ix. p. 515 et seq. ; iv. 356. 
 i Ibid. vol. iv. p. 336 ; vii. 243, 371 et seq. 
 
 I See above, p. 303-4, and Works, vol. iv. p. 354 et seq., 383 et seq,; ix. 516 et seq., 
 510 el seq.. STt et seq. 
 IT See Works, vol. ii. pp. 211, 431, 573 et seq.; vu. 199. 
 
405 OUTLINE OP bentham's opinions. 
 
 division happily unknown in Scotland and in the rest of Europe— into 
 common law and equity, afforded him aflagrant exemplification of the 
 evil, which will be found illustrated in several of the passages in the 
 preceding selection. (See p. 131 et seq.) 
 
 With regard to trial by jury, on which he has written much,— partly 
 in relation to the best method of reformhig it, and partly for the pur- 
 pose of rationally limiting its operation, — he was of opinion that, in 
 the case of criminal charges, it was a necessary protection; but that 
 the existing system demanded many reforms, and among others the 
 discontinuance of unanimity, and the abolition of the Grand jury. In 
 civil actions, he thought the operation of the system should be much 
 restricted. He objected to the unbending rule which forces the case 
 before a jury, when both parties might prefer the decision of a judge. 
 He considered that the part which a jury has to act — that of a com- 
 mittee of the citizens at largo to watch the operations of the bench — 
 need not be so palpably exhibited, and that it might be presumed that 
 the judges have honesty and public spirit enough to do right, without 
 the constant presence of so imperative a check. In a country where 
 there is publicity for justice, and a high tone of public opinion, he be- 
 lieved that supsevisance, especially if added to the influence of the 
 appeal system, would make judges cautious, and would secure a nearer 
 approach to clear substantial justice, than can be found in the oscilla- 
 tions of the jury system. He proposed then, that in ordinary civil 
 cases, the jury should be had recourse to only in the way of appeal,* — 
 a plan by which, while no one who wished to have his case judged " by 
 his country," as it is termed, could complain that the boon was refused 
 him, the number of jury trials, and consequently, the expense of the 
 system, would be much diminished. In the Constitutional Code, the 
 juries, under the republican system there promulgated, are merely to 
 be assessors to the judge, under the title of Quasi-jurors.f 
 
 The method of so conducting the proceedings of the courts of Law, 
 that they might administer justice accompanied with the smallest possi- 
 ble amount of delay, vexation, and expense to tbe litigant, is a subject 
 referred to in almost all the works of Benlham, which bear on law re- 
 form. One work, the "Principles of Judicial Procedure,"! is devoted 
 to the organization of such a system. The various facilities for coming 
 rapidly at the knowledge of the question at issue, keeping up a com- 
 munication between all the parties concerned in the discussion, secur- 
 ing obedience to the discision pronounced, &c., cannot be here enume- 
 rated •,\ and it will be impossible to go into detail beyond a slight glance 
 at that principle of personal responsibility, which peculiarly charac- 
 terizes the whole system. As the public interest requires personal 
 responsibility on the part of all public officers, so does it on the part of 
 those who, by an appeal to the law, exercise the privilege which every 
 one should be possessed of, of demanding the performance of judicial 
 services — in other words, of litigants. To this end it is a leading 
 principle of judicial procedure, that litigants should be confronted with 
 
 * See Works, vol. ii. p. ia2. t Ibid. vol. ix, p. 554 et leq. 
 
 X Beginning of vol. ii. of tlie Works 
 
 § In connexion with the subjects of Evidence and of Punishment, some of the views 
 in relation to procedure are elsewhere incidentally noticed. 
 
PRINCIPLES OF PCNISHMBSITS. 407 
 
 their judges and with each other, that they should be questioned as to 
 the statements on which they found, and that they should be made re- 
 sponsible for falsehood, whether it be uttered with the deliberate de- 
 sign of deceiving, or be rashly stated without that amount of consi- 
 deration whicli a man gives to his words when the consequences of a 
 mistake fall upon himself. The litigant is to be entitled to employ a 
 professional assistant ; but grades of professional lawyers transacting 
 different departments in lawsuits — as represented by barrister and at- 
 torney in English practice — are objected to. In an ordinary English 
 lawsuit, the country attorney receives his client's communication, and 
 transfers it to the town attorney, who communicates it to the barrister. 
 From the variety ofthe channels through which the history is thus com- 
 municated to the judicatory, impediments are created to the discovery 
 of the party who may be the author of any falsehood that may^ have 
 been uttered ; and there is a general frittering away of responsibility 
 for the proper conduct ofthe cause. Let the pairty himself be acces- 
 sible when wanted, and let him have but'one adviseff between him and 
 the judge: falsehoods will then be easily traced to their source, and 
 being so traceable, will not be so readily committed.* 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF PUNISHMENT. 
 
 The end of punishment is the prevention of crime ; and all punish- 
 ments inflicted under any other impulse, are wasted, or run the risk 
 of being so. There is no other criterion of punishment which can be 
 a fixed one. There may be mistakes and disputes as to what descrip- 
 tion of punishment is in reality best calculated to prevent crime ; but 
 with this principle in view, reasoners have a common field of argument ; 
 and the course of experience, enriched by the collection of statistical 
 facts, will check aberrations, and bring the disputants more closely to 
 each other in their mutual approach to accuracy. Those principles of 
 punishment, if they can be called principles, which are involved in 
 popular dicta, are as vague and indefinable as the human mind is vari- 
 ous in its passions and prejudices. The simple word " ought," some- 
 times involves the whole ofthe principle expounded. Murder ought 
 to be punished with death. Forgery ought to bo punished with death, 
 &c. The supporters of a ministry will say, " sedition ought to be pun- 
 ished with transportation," because they wish to humble and persecute 
 their opponents. The opposition will say it ought not to be bo punish- 
 ed — wishing to protect their friends from evil. When a riot takes 
 place at an election, the party injured says the conduct of the mob was 
 '•' dastardly brutal and ruffianly, and a parcel of them should be hanged ;" 
 while the opposite party " are far from vindicating the conduct of the 
 rioters; but it was a mere petty ebullition of party spirit, and a few 
 days imprisonment will be a severe enough retribution." 
 
 * Id the operations of Procedure, various incidents are found wliich tend to fritter 
 away personal responsibility. Tlius, witnesses examined on affidavit (see above, p. 
 972) are represented in tlie minutes of evidence in the tliird person ; and tliere is tiiDs an 
 article of confusion introduced into the record, which prevents them from determin- 
 ing whether their evidence is accurately minuted or not.— See Works, vol. vl. p. 439. 
 
408 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 But it is not only in offences of a political character that the diver- 
 gencies o£ the popular principles of punishment are exhibited. Each 
 man, with his mind concentrated on his own interest and pleasure, 
 holds all offences that militate against them as the most atrocious with 
 which society can be visited ; and when he has the power, he acts the 
 Nero and Domitian, and exterminates those who give him trouble. 
 Thus is it that the landholders of England, being resolved at all ha- 
 zards, to preserve to themselves the sports of the field, and having the 
 power, through their preponderant representation in parliament, of 
 making what laws on the subject they think fit, have enacted a code 
 of game laws, which renders the preservation of the lives and morals 
 of the people secondary to securing the monopoly in the destruction of 
 hares and pheasants ; and makes provision that the country should be- 
 come depopulated by the transportation of criminals, rather than that 
 the squire's preserves should be thinned. 
 
 When an attempt is made to involve the popular feeling on the sub- 
 ject of punishment, in a proposition or principle, it does not in genera) 
 become more reasonable. It is said that the punishment " should be 
 equivalent to the offence;" or "should be of the same character as the 
 offence;" or " should be like the offence." There are no two things 
 which less admit of real parallelism (however much they may of ima- 
 ginative) than punishments and offences. Of two persons, precisely 
 in the same rank of life, and of the same bodily frame, the one gets 
 the other held down by accomplices, and inflicts on him certain blows 
 with a stick. In this case it might not be difiicult to assign a punish- 
 ment precisely the parallel of the offence. But take another case. A 
 thief puts his hand in a banker's pocket as he is returning home from 
 business, and extracts therefrom a bundle of bank-notes. Where are 
 the elements of similarity, in the position of the two parties, out of 
 which a punishment similar to the offence can be created 1 Nor, if 
 the problem of finding a parallel could he solved, does it appear very 
 distinctly how the public could be benefited by the elaboration of such 
 a specimen of curious uniformity. 
 
 But another principle of punishment, and by far the most common, 
 (for it has existence in many a bosom which is,unconscious of its pre- 
 sence,) is retaliation — in other words, revenge, or obedience to the im- 
 pulse of wrath. The case of an election mob cited above, may serve 
 as an illustration. The principle of retaliation is frequently vindicated, 
 as if it could be reduced to a fixed rule : but how can it be so, since, 
 as has been already shown, there can be no parallelism between pu- 
 nishments and offences'! For the very small number of cases which 
 occur, exactly in terms of the instance of assault above cited, it would 
 be easy to fix the rule of retaliation, by making the punishment iden- 
 tical with the offence. But who is to make a rule of retaliation for 
 the banker robbed of his notes 1 The legislator has the whole field 
 of inflictions out of which he may choose one which shall be a retali- 
 ation, and it is needless to say that his view of retaliation will be what- 
 ever his passions dictate. If the legislature should consist entirely 
 of bankers, when he who has been robbed joins his peers with an emp- 
 ty pocket and inflamed passions, which sympathy and common interest 
 propagate through the assembly, the retaliation, it is easy to believe, 
 
PRINCIPLES OP P0NISHMENT. 409 
 
 will be fierce and crushing. If the legislature should consist entirely 
 of spendthrifts and pennyless younger sons, the sympathetic excitement 
 would not be so intense, and the punishment would be more reason- 
 able. If the legislature should consist of blacklegs and pickpockets, the 
 worthy banker would be laughed at, and sent about his business. This 
 last result, intended to exemplify the fallacy of any appeal to parties 
 interested in an injustice, is not without a modified exemplification in 
 this country. Bentham repeatedly refers to the exemption of real 
 property from simple contract debts — the power of landed proprietors 
 to undertake pecuniary engagements and protect their property from 
 being seized in fulfilment of them. It was not until after his death, 
 that this anomaly was partly rectified.* 
 
 It has to be noticed, that the retaliatory and other barbarous prin- 
 ciples of punishment have produced counter-fallacies among those who 
 have been groping about for the sound principles of punishment, and 
 have been unable to find them. Thus, those who have an indistinct 
 view of the defects of the punishment of death, say, "You are not en- 
 titled to deprive any man of the life which God has given him ;" or, 
 perhaps, "you are not permitted to take life, but for the crime of mur- 
 der." It is to capital punishment that the question of title is thus 
 usually restricted; 'but sometimes it is extended to others — thus, "you 
 are not entitled to make a slave for life of a man born free," &c. — the 
 term, " for life," being generally inserted, because, if the punishment 
 of slavery or the restriction of liberty were abolished, it would be difii- 
 cult to find a means of inflicting any punishment on any one who has 
 not palpable property capable of being seized. In the utilitarian sys- 
 tem, the question of title is very simply disposed of, by striking the 
 balance of good and evil to society at large. If there are cases in 
 which the infliction of the punishment of death leaves a balance of 
 good — that is to say, if more evil would be done to society through the 
 inducement to crime that would, exist were the punishment more 
 lenient, than the evil occasioned by the infliction of the punishment — 
 then let death be the allotted penalty. It will be for every man who 
 has any thing to say in the legislation of his country, to examine the 
 question according to his abilities, to strike the balance, and to act 
 accordingly. The conclusion come to by a member of the legislature 
 will bear strongly on the result ; that of an elector will have less eflfect, 
 and that of a non-elector whose influence on the legislature is merely 
 that of reasoning, will have still less: but it behooves them all, as 
 members of society, to take the same method of coming to a right 
 judgment. 
 
 It has been already remarked, that the Utilitarian Philosophy, like 
 the Baconian, has not tended so much to point out any perfectly new 
 direction to the human intellect, as to keep if steady in a course of 
 which it had previously but a slight and vague knowledge, and from 
 which it was every now and then straying. There is perhaps no de- 
 partment of the subject in which this is better developed, than the phi- 
 losophy of punishment. On appealing to a moderately-educated man 
 in any civilized country, he would probably be found to adroit, in some 
 * See Worka, voj. v. p. S33; vi. 85. 
 35 
 
410 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 vague or general terms, that the object of punishment is the repression 
 of crime. Yet so far have men, in the pursuit of their secondary ends, 
 lost sight of this, the main one, that in England it became a general 
 feeling, that it mattered not how many murders were committed, pro- 
 vided some one were hanged for each. Of the legitimate results of a 
 scientific inquiry into the subject on the utilitarian principle, such as 
 that carried on by Bentham and his disciples, the improvements which, 
 for several years past, the legislature has been making in the adminis- 
 tration of criminal justice, are samany illustrations. 
 
 In calculating the proper weight of punishment, the first element 
 that comes into consideration is the offence. When it is scientifically 
 examined, an offence is found to consist of more elements of evil than 
 those which directly meet the senses. Bentham found a simple 
 method of classifying the evils of a mischievous act, by dividing them 
 into the primary and the secondary.* A man is murdered on the high- 
 way: the death of the individual is the primary evil. The secondary 
 evils arise out of the danger there exists of other people being mur- 
 dered either by the same man, or by others following his example, and 
 the alarm so occasioned in the neighbourhood. But it depends on a 
 number of minute circumstances, what will be the extent of this danger 
 and alarm, and, as a consequence, what will be the best legislative 
 measures for protecting the people against them,-^and hence arises 
 Benlham's scientific analysis of crimes and their results, and his rules 
 for adapting the punishment to the exigencies of each occasion'. 
 
 To this end, in looking at the consequences of a mischievous act, 
 among other circumstances, the following are kept in viei*: 1st, The 
 state of the actor's mind as to voluntariness or involuntariness. Thus, 
 deliberate murder shows a disposition at war with mankind, from which 
 any one may suffer who is in the position of supplying the assassin 
 with a sufficient motive; while death, occasioned by carelessness, 
 shows a want of respect for life,' which the public must protect itself 
 from; and uncontrollable accident is a source of mischief which punish- 
 ment cannot protect from, and as to which its infliction would be 
 thrown away. 2d, The motive of the ofl>;nder.' Thus, the motive 
 of acquisition being in continual action, is found to be the most 
 dangerous. When a man slays for vengeance, he only strikes his 
 enemy; if he be allowed to go unpunished he will be prepared to slay 
 some one else, but not till there has been a cause of enmity. The ex- 
 ample of his impunity will encourage others to slay also, but only their 
 enenjies. But when a man murders for the sake of robbery, he acts 
 on a motive which all men feel more or less towards all others ; and 
 those whom impunity encourages to follow his example, see victims in 
 all of their fellow-beings who have any thing to be deprived of. Other 
 circumstances to be held rn view are, the situation of the perpetrator 
 in regard to the means of repeating the act, his' means of concealing 
 such acts, his means of escape, the obstacles he has overcome, the ex- 
 tent of temptation which was necessary to induce him to combat with 
 them, &c. The position of the party injured must also be taken into 
 view. Females, children, and invalids, require protection from acts 
 * See Works, vol. i. p. 59 etteq,, 215 etseq.; vi. 535. 
 
PJIINCIFLES OF PUNISHMENT. 4 1 1 
 
 against which able-bodied men need none. The poor require protec- 
 tion from injuries to which the rich are not liable, — such as oppressive 
 litigation. The rich, on the other hand, have their peculiar demands, 
 chiefly arising from the superior amount of their proprerty, on the pro- 
 tection of the law. There are, besides, many other circumstances in 
 which the richer and higher classes of society are subjected to evils 
 which do not fall on the lower. Their tastes and habits are more fas- 
 tidious, and should be protected from wanton outrage. They possess 
 a greater proportion of objects in which there is a " value in affection," 
 — such as heir-looms, old pleasure-grounds, &c.; and the law ought to 
 look on these as having a value beyond their mere intrinsic worth.* 
 
 When the extent of the evil to society occasioned by each offence, 
 has been as accurately estimated as human knowledge and reason ad- 
 mit of its being, the counteracting power, in the shape of punishment, 
 has then to be graduated accordingly. And here it has to be kept in 
 view, that the infliction of punishment is itself an evil — an evil not 
 only to him on whom it is inflicted, but to the community by which 
 the trouble and expense of inflicting it have been incurred. Every 
 item, therefore, of punishment, beyond what is necessary to the pro- 
 duction of preponderant good, is punishment wasted — is a wanton act 
 of mischief — is a crime. If it can be proved that an ofl^ence can be 
 suppressed by the infliction of a year's imprisonment, and that the ex- 
 tension of imprisonment to two years will not make the suppression 
 of it more complete, or tend more to the benefit of the public, — then 
 is the imposition of an imprisonment for two years, instead of for one 
 year, a wanton act of injury. It is seldom that the superfluous pu- 
 nishment is designedly added to the necessary : the whole is generally 
 awarded in rashness and ignorance, and thus resolves itself into the 
 minor oflTence of a want of due care for the welfare of the public. 
 Who shall justify the infliction of a year's imprisonment, wantonly in- 
 flicted upon a man, though he be a criminal '! If a justification be 
 offered, let the following case, for the sake of distinctness, be taken. 
 A man is tried for an offence, and the adequate punishment awarded 
 against him is a year's imprisonment. When he leaves the prison, he 
 is again seized, and subjected to another year's imprisonment ; not be- 
 cause he has committed any fresh offence — not because his previous 
 punishment was inadequate — but because he has been a criminal ; and 
 such a person may be punished, just as the prejudices and passions of 
 those who administer the law may dictate. 
 
 ' The penal code being an institution intended for the benefit of the 
 public at large, and the public consisting of individuals, there are two 
 classes of persons prominently interested in its administration, whose 
 claims have been overlooked in empirical systems of criminal law — 
 the criminals themselves, and the individuals against whom the crimes 
 are committed. The principle of vengeance is at the root of the 
 omission in both cases — the laws retaliate on the criminal, and the 
 act of retaliation is considered a sufficient compensation to the injured. 
 The utilitarian system views the matter differently — conceives that 
 the person who has been robbed is not a savage, who is to be satisfied 
 
 * See above, p. 7 etteq. ; 94 et »;.; 309 et teg. 
 
412 OUTLfNB OP BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 with the blood of his adversary — and enjoins the crimitial to labour 
 to the end of making compensation, so far as it may be practicable, 
 to the injured parly. With regard to the criminal himself, the pu- 
 nishment, on the principles above laid down, must not be more than 
 what is necessary to serve the legitimate purposes of punishment; If, 
 while he is undergoing it, the convict can be reformed, there is not 
 only a positive good done to himself, but a benefit is conferred on 
 society, by restoring to its bosom a useful and moral man, at the ex- 
 piry of the period of imprisonment. If, along with the accomplish- 
 ment of this object, and of compensation to the injured party, the cri- 
 minal can be compelled or induced to work, so as holy or partly to 
 defray the cost of his imprisonment, there is a still farther gain to so- 
 ciety,sby the reduction of a heavy burden — a burden which has a ten- 
 dency to weigh against the zeal of the public in the enforcement of 
 the laws. 
 
 Looking beyond the individual himself, to the effects of his punish- 
 ment on society at large, reason will be found for deciding that,^it 
 should be exemplary. As this is the element from which it derives 
 its quality of awing the public into obedience to the laws, there 
 might at first sight seem reason for concluding that the punishment 
 cannot be too severe for such a purpose; but a little consideration 
 will show, that it is its adaptation to this end that makes it chiefly of 
 importance that the punishment, if brought up to the point which will 
 be sufficient to deter by example, should not exceed it. Where 
 punishments are not meted to offences, the criminal classes of the 
 population see that the law hits at random ; and, with the character- 
 istic improvidence of their order, they gamble on its chances. More- 
 over, where punishments are unpopularly severe, the people will not 
 give their assistance to the enforcment of the laws. The annals of 
 English jurisprudence present even the official guardians of the law 
 — the judges, joining with prosecutors, juries, and witnesses, in saving 
 the criminal. The punishment of death for forgery has strikingly 
 illustrated this truth.' At the present moment, the duellist, is con- 
 founded with the assassin who steps behind his enemy and secretly 
 stabs him. The public feel that the duellist injuries society and 
 should be punished; but they revolt at such a barbarous confusion of 
 names.and punishments: and the manslayer escapes by the connivance 
 of the witnesses, the jury, the prosecutor, and the judge himself. 
 ' To deter others by the force of example, the punishment must, as 
 nearly as human means can make it, follow the crime with the same 
 regularity with which natural effects follow their causes. The cer- 
 tainty of imprisonment with hard labour will do far more in the way 
 of prevention than the chance of sufl^ering death.' A proper allotment 
 of punishment is one of the main ingredients in this certainty — others 
 have been devised by Bentham, in his projects for the reform of cri- 
 minal procedure. 
 
 It is necessary to the eflSciency of the penal law, in the way of ex- 
 ample, that the offence and the transactions concerning the trial and 
 punishment, should not be encumbered with a barbarous technical 
 nomenclature, which may shroud the real nature of the connexion be- 
 tween the crime and its punishment from the public eye. It is fur- 
 
PRINCIPLES OP PUNISHMENT. 413 
 
 ther necessary that the innoceot should not be involved with the 
 guilty — a result produced by the forfeitures, and corruption of blood, 
 (see above, p. 324,) of the English law. The punishment should be 
 awarded in virtue of a fixed law, and should neither actually be nor 
 appear to be, inSuenced either in increase or diminution by the will 
 of an individual. Thus, laws awarding extravagant punishments, 
 with a power of pardon or diminution, are unserviceable in the way 
 of example. The punishment fixed by the law is either too high or 
 not too high. If it be too high, it should be reduced: if it be not, the 
 exercise of the pardon power, popularly called the prerogative of 
 mercy, is an injury to society. Thus, wherever the pardon power is 
 rightly exercised there is tyranny in the law — where it is wrongly 
 exercised it is itself tyranny. (See p. 297 et seq.) 
 
 It is of the highest moment, for the sake of example, that the punish- 
 ment should proceed, as far as may be practicable, before the eyes of 
 the public. This object, as well as that of the reformation of the con- 
 vict, is defeated by the plan ©f transportation to distant colonies. The " 
 criminal is removed from the sight and knowledge of those companions 
 in iniquity to whom it is essential that his punishment, coupled with 
 its cause, should be present as a perpetual warning; and instead of a 
 lively consciousness of the sufl%rings and privation he is undergoing, 
 experience too truly shows that they often envy his imagined lot, and 
 raised day-dreams of independence and a wandering life in distant and 
 fruitful lands, which serve a very different purpose from that of a 
 solemn warning to depart from their evil ways. Another main object 
 to be kept in view in punishment, is the avoidance of contamination. 
 This is an evil which needs no farther explanation. At the time when 
 Bentham wrote, the jails were academies for instructing the youth, 
 whom a petty indiscretion or a small offence had driven to them, in 
 the higher and more complex walks of crime. Many reforms have 
 been made in this department of prison discipline: but the repeated 
 complaints of the press show how much remains still to be done. (See 
 p. SlSetsegr.)" 
 
 It was to accomplish these objects, in relation to punishment, that 
 Bentham devised the principles of prison discipline, expounded in his 
 work on the Panopticon. The plan of the building, which was to 
 admit of an inspection of all parts from a central point, was suggested 
 by the architectural ingenuity of his brother. Sir Samuel Bentham. 
 In this institution the prisoners were, without being subjected to the 
 enervating and uncivilizing influence of solitary confinement, to be 
 kept from communication with each other. They were to be kept at 
 hard labour. As unproductive compulsory labour for the mere sake 
 of punishment is in itself uneconomical, has no influence in improving 
 the criminal, and tends to sour and harden his mind by the daily re- 
 currence of inflictions, which have no other end but his personal vex- 
 ation, the convicts were to be taught pseful trades, as an encourage- 
 ment to work ; and, that they might have some opportunity of knowing 
 how pleasing are the fruits of honest industry, they were to receive a 
 portion of the results of their meritorious and successful exertion. 
 They were to enjoy the ministrations of religion, and, to a certain ex- 
 
 35* 
 
414 
 
 OUTLINE OP BENTHAM'S OPINIONS. 
 
 tent, to be educated. Provision was made to supply them with a suf- 
 ficiency of wholesome food, to ventilate all their apartments, and to 
 keep them clean. Various methods were propounded for keeping 
 their intellects from being stagnant, or viciously employed, when their 
 hands were idle. And, finally, to prevent their being thrown upon 
 the world with a tainted character.'which might, by depriving them 
 of the means of gaining their livelihood honestly, drive them back upon 
 their old courses, arrangements were proposed for providing them with 
 employment after their period of imprisonment had expired.* 
 == But the founder of the Utilitarian system, looking upon punishment 
 of every description as the application of medicine to a moral disease, 
 goes back into the operations of the mind, that he may discover the 
 causes in which the disease has its origin, and prescribe a regimen 
 conducive to the preservation of the moral health of the public. In a 
 system of punishment, he sees the political sanction only put in motion ; 
 but he finds that the Religious, and the Moral or Popular sanction, 
 have each their respective spheres of action, in which they may be 
 employed to restrain the mind from vicious inclinations./ It is not by 
 its restrictive action, in regard to this or that individual offence, that 
 either of these sanctions will operate in its largest shape ; but, by su- 
 perinducing on the mind habits of thought so much opposed to crime, 
 that when an opportunity of committing it occurs, the principle of re- 
 straint being an established feature in the mind, there is no actual 
 struggle to resist the seeming temptation, /in ordinary acquisitive 
 crimes, the operation of the sanctions is strongly marked. To the greater 
 portion of the well-educated and well-trained part of the population of 
 Britain, an opportunity of committing a lucrative theft can scarcely be 
 said to hold out any temptation ; and the question, whether detec- 
 tion and punishment would be likely to follow — i. e. whether the po- 
 litical sanction would be called into operation, is not considered ; for 
 the religious and moral sanction have long ago fixed the course of ac- 
 tion. Of the beneficial effects of the religious sanction, it is needless 
 to adduce illustrations in a country where its influence is so strongly 
 felt. As its good influences, however, are powerful, so are its evil, 
 when it is directed to bad purposes. As an illustration of the exterit 
 to which the operation of the sanctions may be ramified, the service- 
 able employment of the moral sanction in the prevention of violent 
 crimes, may be found in the practice of inculcating humanity to ani- 
 mals in children. I Minds callous to one description of animal suffering 
 will not sympathize with another ; and the murderer is nursed in the 
 torturer of kittens. The knowledge of this truth is evinced in Ho- 
 garth's stages of cruelty, and in the popular belief that butchers are 
 incapacitated to serve as jurymen. As already stated, Bentharn was 
 desirous that the legal sanction should be brought to the aid of the 
 popular in this department, and that cruelty to animals should be re- 
 strained by strict penal laws.t 
 
 * On the subject of Punishment generally, see above, p. 297 et seq. ; see the Works, 
 vol. i. On the subject of the Panopticon, see vol. i. ppJ98 ; iv. 39 et seq. xi. 96 et aeq. 
 t See Works, vol. i. pp. 142-143, 562 ; x. SH-SSOr^^^ 
 
POOR LAWS. 415 
 
 /' His works abound with the promulgation of secondary operative mea- 
 sures for keeping the population pure from criminal propensities, the ma- 
 jority of which, to a greater or less degree, have been, and still are, the sub- 
 ject of public discussion. Among the most prominent of them is National 
 education. The system for the management of the poor, having for its 
 end the drying up the sources of poverty, would, by the same operation, 
 dry up the main sources of crime — (see the next section.) The arrange- 
 ments for training pauper children — foundlings and the outcasts of society 
 —would have the effect of subjecting a class, whose world of public 
 opinion is the professional emulation of felons, to the restraints and super- 
 intendence of the better portion of society; and of giving to those, whose 
 fate seemed to place them at war with honesty and the laws, an industrial 
 interest in the well-being of their country, and in the administration of its 
 justice. Calamity and disease are looked upon, independently of their 
 own distinctive evils, as generators of crime; and it is in this view that 
 their prevention appeals to the interests and self preservation of those who 
 are, or may think themselves, excluded from their influence. The officers 
 nominated in the Constitutional Code, for preserving the public against 
 accidents and calamities, for guarding the public health, and for removing 
 objects which, from their being noxious to the senses, are both dangerous 
 to the health and demoralizing in their immediate operation on the hahita, 
 — are thus so many active agents clearing the moral atmosphere from the 
 malaria which produces mental disease.* // 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 
 POOR LAWS, EDUCATION, AND OTHER INSTITUTIONS FOR NATIONAL 
 AMELIORATION. 
 
 At the time when Bentham devoted his attention to the Poor Law, 
 (1797-8,)t the then existing system had proceeded for some years in that 
 course of degeneracy from the strict principles of the statute of Elizabeth, 
 which commenced wiili Gilbert's Act in 1783, and was consummated by 
 East's Act in 1815. Long before he could get others to join in the 
 opinion, he saw that any system founded on the principle of merely re- 
 lieving suffering, and' not containing within itself restrictions calculated 
 to stem the growth of pauperism, would gradually undermine the indus- 
 trial stamina of the country, by creating more pauperism than it relieved. 
 Subsistence being, as already stated, (see p. 360,) one of the main objects 
 of the law, according to his division, he thought it the duty of the legisla- 
 ture to provide a system which should obviate, as far as human foresight 
 could, the chance of any human being suffering from starvation. In ac- 
 complishing this, however, it was necessary to keep in view the counter- 
 error of giving a boon to indolence, by allowing the idle pauper to con- 
 sume the wealth of the industrious and enterprising producer. 
 
 The method by which he proposed to adjust the proper medium, was 
 the same in its leading principles with that which was lately sanctioned 
 by the legislature, as the result of the searching investigation of the 
 Commission of Inquiry, — the rigid application of the Labour test to the 
 able-bodied, and the supervisance of all, by their location in buildings' 
 
 * These subjects will be more particularly considered in the next section 
 t See the Tracts on the Poor Law, Works, vol. iii. p. 358 et »eq. See also vol. 1. p. 
 314; iii. 73; ix. 13. 
 
416 ODTLINE OF EBNIHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 under the inspection of the officials and the public. He was able to fore- 
 see the evils of the strictly parochial system, — the comparative costliness, 
 and propensity to jobbing in small local establishments, — the restrictions 
 on the freedom, and consequently on the productiveness of labour by the 
 settlement laws, — the abuses of all sorts that in remote districts might be 
 preying on the vitals of society unobserved, — and the cruel hardships to 
 which those whose position entitled them to relief might be subjected, from 
 their not being on the right spot when misfortune overtakes them; and 
 he contemplated the bold design of a uniform national system under cen- 
 tral authority. 
 
 He did not propose that the central authority should be in the hands of 
 official persons appointed by the Government. In all national institu- 
 tions which involve receipt and expenditure of money, varying according 
 to the success of the management, ne advocated the contract system in 
 preference tu the stipendiary, as more economical and efficacious. His 
 system of prison discipline, under the Panopticon plan, (see above, p. 
 388,) was to hafve been conducted under contract management, he him- 
 self being the contractor.* In the present case, his contractors were to 
 be a joint-stock company, whose directors were to be the central board 
 of management. Their funds were to consist in such poor-rates as it 
 should be found necessary to levy, and the produce of the industry of the 
 able-bodied paupers, with other contiiigcncies. Their profits were to be 
 so far limited, that while they might have sufficient encouragement for 
 economical and energetic management, they should not be put in posses- 
 sion of the power of levying a poor-rate to provide extravagant profits to 
 themselves. The Plan of Pauper Management — it is lu he regretted 
 that hitherto only a skeleton of it has seen the light — contains a multi- 
 tude of minute arrsngemenls for obviating mismanagement, preserving 
 order, regularity, and good habits, educating the paupers, and generally 
 elevating their moral standard, — which cannot be here enumerated. 
 
 In 1797, a Bill ior making alterations on the Poor Law was brought 
 in by Pitt. It is difficult to estimate the disastrous consequences which 
 must have followed this measure had it been passed. A critical exami- 
 nation of it was written by Bcntham, and sent in MS. to Pitt; and the 
 fortunate consequence of this lucid demons=tration was, the abandonment 
 of the Plan. The general aim of this measure was simply an enlarge- 
 ment — and that a sudden one — of the pernicious principles which had 
 been gaining ground for some years — that there was only one thing to 
 be kept in view in a poor law, the satisfaction of all demands made upon 
 the w.ealth of the co^nmunily by its poverty, without asking questions; 
 and that whatever .deiicicn«y appeared in the operation of the existing 
 system, was to .be simply remedied by conveying more of the money of 
 those who had it to those who had jt not. From the criticism on this 
 measure some extracts will be found above, (p. 166-168.) 
 
 Bcntham contemplated a system of poor laws as a means of removing 
 out of the way the damaged part of the population, and of improving the 
 improveable; and not as a mere provision for existing destitution. In 
 his eyes, therefore, it was a great moral engine which might be applied 
 
 * The history of his vexations and disappointments in regard to this project, will 
 be found detailed In the Appendix to the Memoirs, (vol. xi. p. 96 et legj and it ia 
 noticed in the Introduction to this selection. The chief abjection which 'official 
 persons appeared to find in the scheme was. that the terms were too favourable to 
 the public to be practicable, — a feature for which either its Author's sanguine tem* 
 per, or his practical sagacity must stand responsible. 
 
POOR LAWS. 417 
 
 to various useful purposes. The most important of these was tfae sup- 
 pression of vagrancy and mendicancy. His officials, holding out relief 
 with the one hand, were to be entitled with the other, to treat all mendi- 
 cants who refused to accept of it, not as persons who supplicated charity 
 to relieve tlieir wants, but as professors of the criminal trade of begging', 
 and so amenable to punishment. It was part of his plan, that, until 
 some responsible person should be prepared to answer for his following 
 an honest calling, no beggar should be removed from the workhouse. 
 The suppression of mendicancy would, it was believed, have a great in- 
 fluence in reducing the number of graver crimes. A disposal of all the 
 vagrants of a country within workhouses, unless they find security to 
 work elsewhere, would, undoubtedly, if it came into actual and satisfae- 
 tory practical operation, have that effect which that Author anticipated 
 from it, — of destroying the nests in which criminals are reared. 
 
 The great subject of National Education, for which Brougham has 
 obtained a place in the public mind worthy of its eminence, may appear 
 tu some to be treated with indignity, when discussed as subsidiary to a 
 poor law. Bentham, however, was of opinion that the education of the 
 indigent is far more important, in the eye of the public, than that of the 
 rich : more important, because it serves as in instrument of social organi- 
 zation, which the opulent will supply to themselves, on the voluntary 
 principle; while the means of procuring a supply for the poorer classes, 
 becomes a matter of public policy. In this view, as a system which must 
 be provided for by an eleemosynary fund, he considered that the National 
 education was connected with the Poor Law. 
 
 The system proposed in the Flan of Pauper Management, unites both 
 training and education. The Author had the sagacity to see, what has 
 been in later times too often exemplified, that the seeds of the higher 
 branches of knowledge cast into minds unprepared for their reception, 
 may produce bad. or worthless fruit. His great object was to redeem 
 pauper children from a position in which, as outcasts from society, they 
 were likely to remain during their lives either a burden on the charity 
 of the community or enemies to its property ; and to elevate them into 
 the position of productive members. In a community where there are 
 no unproductive members there can be no permanent paupers ; and the 
 very best form, in point of economy, which a provision for the poor can as- 
 sume, is that in which it converts any class of persons from consuming to 
 productive members of society. With this view, the principal end in the 
 education of pauper children, after they have been taught the principles 
 and practice of morality and religion, is lo fit them for some trade by 
 which they can make their bread, to train them in those regular habits 
 which a respectable man finds Meces>sary to his happiness, and to accus- 
 tom them to value these comforts and appliances with which industry 
 and regularity only will supply them. A portion of intellectual instruc- 
 tiyn should, of course, accompany this training; for, of all inducements 
 which the man who labours with his hands can have to keep him from 
 degrading habits, intellectual resources are the most potent. It is only, 
 however, as accompanying the means of making a livelihood, and in con- 
 nexion with well. regulated habits, that intellectual instruction can be 
 calculated upon as serviceable to beings in the position of pauper children.* 
 
 * See Works, vol. viii. p 395 et seg. The Report on the training of pauper children, 
 presented by the Poor Law Commissioners in 1841, is a practical adaptation and 
 iltustration' of Bentham'S' opinion. It is to be regretted that the commissioners have 
 not been enabled to carry out their practical application of the system to the extent 
 which appears to have been contemplated by them. 
 
418 
 
 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM S OPINIONS. 
 
 The remarks which Bentham left bthind him, on o proper system raf 
 education for the richer classes, are to be foond in certain fragnienlary 
 essays, brought together under Ihe title of Chrestoniathia,* Tiie worlt 
 consists partly in an exposition of the benefits of intellectual inslrBetiony 
 partly in the description of a project for establishing a national sebooljfor 
 the middle classes, and partly in an analytical examination of some of 
 the departments of instruction suited to such an institution. He adopted, 
 in a great measure, the system of division of labour suggesleA by Laneas- 
 ter and Bell, There are several principles of tuition laid d&wn, the nMiio 
 feature of which is the establishing a rigid mental discipline in the 
 minds of youth — preventing their thoughts from straying, and takingr 
 measures for ascertaining, with respect to the several steps of the pro- 
 gress, that nothing is left in a crude and undigested state, but! that what- 
 ever is learnt, is well learnt. It is generally as a discipline to the mind, 
 that the devotion of so much of the tune of youth to the aeqoisttion of 
 classical syntax, prosody, and etymology, is vindicated. There is no 
 doubt that the operation of mastering. languages, so philosopbiealiis> their 
 structure, and so little capable of being made use of without a scientific: 
 acquaintance with them, as the Greek and Latin tongues, is in itself at 
 powerful mental tonic. But if the same discipline can he accormplished.by 
 instruction in subjects more likely to be afterwards made practically 
 available by the pupil, there would be undofibted economy in the change. 
 Neither his own personal inclinations, nor his judgment, would' have 
 prompted Bentham to deny their due weight to classical stniliesr " He^ 
 was a scholar, and a ripe and good one,V i<i the ordinary sense ef the 
 term. He was partial to the Greek ]anguage,.which he maintained to be,, 
 in its structure, the best suited for a scientific nomenclature. His par- 
 tiality towards it has betrayed itself, in many of the titles of his works — 
 witness thcChrcstomathia itself, {^^utTO/tuBmt the study of useful things,)! 
 Nomography, Deontology, Pannoniial Fragments, &c. To his case, 
 therefore, the common remark, that no.ne attack the so generally conceded- 
 supremacy of ancient learning, hut those who have not had the goodfop* 
 tune to receive a classical education, docs not apply. 
 
 To those who take much interest in the teaching of the higher branches' 
 of knowledge, the Chrestomathia, though only a collection of fragments,, 
 must convey many useful hints, from the clear manner in which every 
 branch of instruction is separated from all others, and each is presentedi 
 in its turn as a topic to be separately exhausted. 
 
 The subject of the education of the higher cla.ssca of society, has, frorm 
 a natural analogy, been here treated in juxtaposition with the means of 
 training and instructing the children of the poor. The main object of 
 the present section, however, is to glance at the subsidiary legislative men- 
 sures for internal organization and improvement contemplated by Ben- 
 tham ; and to these it is now necessary to return. 
 
 The concluding chapters of the Constitutional Code, contain a multitude 
 of minor arrangements for purposes of public utility, of which the general' 
 Registration system is, perhaps, the most conspicuous. Legislation has- 
 made a great stride in relation to this subject since Bentham wrote. He- 
 had to suggest the system of a uniform Register of births, marriages, and^ 
 deaths; so arranged, that the making entry in the register should not de. 
 pend on the choice of individuals, but should be imperatively enforced. 
 He viewed such a general register as a grand store-house of facts, appli- 
 
 * See the eommenceineiit of vol. viii. of the .Works. 
 
EDUCATION. 419 
 
 cable not only as evidoncc fur legal purpoaea in rclalion to the persona 
 appearing on the register, hut as providing a fund of vital stntistics, upon 
 which political economists might reason, and the legislature act. To 
 make the vital statistics scTviceable, in relation to Iho iniluoncc of trades, 
 habits of life, places of residence, &c., on health, he suggested that the 
 professions of the parlies should be entered, and in the entry of each death 
 the disease or other occasion of it. Those who arc acquainted with the 
 general Registration act for England, (6 & 7 Will. IV. c.86,) will recognise 
 it as founded on- tbe principles laid down by Bentham, as they appear 
 in the Constitutional Code.* The part of the code in which they appear, 
 was not published until after that act had passed, but they had been for 
 ten years promulgated in the Rationale of Evidence,')' At the time when 
 the Bill for England- was unde^ discussion, a similar measure was brought 
 in for Scotland ; but it was opposed by the clergy, was dropped, and has 
 not been revived.- 
 
 The Registration system iu the Constitutional Code embraces other 
 elements, which have not been j'et experimented on — a Record of arrivals 
 at the age of majority,- and of lapses from, and restorations to sanity. t 
 The proposal of a General Regisiter, applicable to Real property, and to 
 contracts and other transactions, did not originate with Bentham. The 
 system has been illustrated in Scotland and in France, and partially even 
 in England; and efforts have been made by practical statesmen, of whom 
 Oliver Cromwell was, perhaps, the first, and Lord Campbell has been the 
 last, to put the system- in-practice on a widSr basis. The importance of 
 such a system-, and the best arrangements for its operation, are fully ex- 
 amined in mnre than one of Benthocm's works. 
 
 In the Constitutional Code, provision is made for a public officer, whose 
 duty it is to perform those rcmediiit functions for the publicof which the 
 want is so often felt in a thicklypoiopled country, and which magistrates 
 and police aiftlwrities cantvot easily .'iil&l. Among the multifarious duties 
 assigned to him, is the settlement ofmomentary disputes with coachmen, 
 innkeepers, porters, &.C.' The traveller is much at the mercy of these 
 classes, who; in respect to- judicial control, readily distinguish, for their 
 victims, those who will not have time or opportunity to follow up an in. 
 quiry. The principle of hiterference in such cises is no infringement on 
 freedom of trade and labour^ The ot'jiecl of all just regulation on the sub. 
 ject, is, not to compel the hirer to employ for, or the hired lo work for an 
 arbitrary price, but to settle, by regalBtion, terms which parlies are pre- 
 sumcd to acce'pt of when they make rao specific stipulation. The Local 
 headman ha? many other, perhaps more important spheres of action. He 
 is to give information to parties wishici'j to be acquainted with the wages 
 of labour and the means of living, &c:., in his district, to give friendly 
 advice in disputiss, explaining the probable results of an appeal to Iho 
 Law, &c.|f' 
 
 Tfie Heaitli. minister has important fumclions assigned to him in the 
 Conslitutioml Code. In conjunction w]t)i the Indigence-relief minister, 
 he has control over the medical officers .if all eleemosynary institutions. 
 He exercises the appropriate functions in hospitals fur the sick, lunatic 
 asylums, and prisons. The object in view, in the appointment of such 
 an officer, is to have, in the shape of inrlructinn, direction, and control, 
 the application to the operations of infest ior officers, of that skill which > 
 
 » Works, vol. ix. p 6-25. et set. t IbSd. vol vi. p 566 «i ttj. 
 
 t Ibid, vol. ix. p. 630 632. § II) id. vol. v. p. 417 ; ix. 634; i. 350. 
 
 {Ibid. vol. iz. p. 619 tt.ieq. 
 
420 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 can be purchased by high pay and official distinction. This officer is 
 to have other powers for protecting the public health. He has to see that 
 there is a proper supply of water for the public use: to take cognizance 
 of all means by which the public health may be injured, by overcrowded 
 buildings, undrained lands, places of interment, and noxious manufactures; 
 he is to exercise, indeed, in general, the functions of a central officer for 
 the enforcement of sanatory regulations.* 
 
 In the tracts on the Poor Law there are various minor suggestions for 
 increasing the comforts, and raising the tone of character, of the working 
 classes. The- extent to which those who are better informed, and have 
 larger influence in society, may aid them in counteracting their besetting 
 sin, improvidence, is strongly urged. In the Pauper Management, a plan 
 is suggested for the establishment of Frugality Banks,t the main features 
 of which have been adopted in the legislative establishment of Savings 
 Banks.t At the time when he wrote. Friendly Societies had received but 
 slight aid from the legislature, and were subject to all the risks, incon- 
 veniences, and miscalculations, which the operations of small bodies of 
 uninstructed men would naturally entail on them. Their vital calcula- 
 tions, founded on imperfect data, were generally erroneous ; and it fre- 
 quently occurred, that a society which, at first, appeared t'o be prosperous, 
 became exhausted before it met the claims of those who, having longest 
 contributed to its funds, had the best equitable claim to its benefits. The 
 meetings could be held nowhere but in public-houses; and thus the prac- 
 tice of frugality was attempted to be commenced in the midst of those in- 
 ducements to excess which are its greatest enemies. § These evils received 
 no correction till they were prominently exposed by the select committee 
 appointed in 1835. 
 
 The facilitation of the transfer of small sums of money from place to 
 place, is urged, in the Pauper Management, as an important adjunct to 
 frugality and commercial integrity.il The plan has been practically 
 adopted in the system of Post-office money-orders. 
 
 Though he could not be said to have made any approach to the valuable 
 discovery of Mr. Hill, Bentham so far anticipated the modern opinion of 
 the functions of a Post-office, that he viewed it, when established on 
 proper principles, as an institution fraught with internal improvement — 
 with the progress of knowledge, the nourishment of the social virtues, 
 and the facilitation of trade. He thought it ought to meet with encour- 
 
 * See Works, vol. ix. p. 443 et seq. It would be an injustice to tliat friend of Ben- 
 tbam who has so thoroughly laid before the public the grounds on which Sanatory 
 Legislation ought to be based, to allow it to be presumed that the Constitutional 
 Code contains on this subject any thing beyond simple suggestions as to the general 
 subjects to which the regulations should apply. Ttie suggestions might have remained 
 unnoticed like many of their author's other valuable hints. The jiubiic owe the full 
 inductive sifting which this subject has received solely to Mr. Chadwick, some of 
 whose remarks on sanatory regulations, written long before he could have antici- 
 pated an opportunity of bringing forward his views in an authoratative form, were 
 quoted by Bentham as illustrative matter for the Constitutional Code. See Works, 
 vol. ix. p. 648. 
 
 t See Works, vol. viii. p. 407 et sey. 
 
 t It is a singular illustration of the smallness of the extent to which the very 
 valuable tracts on Pauper Management have been perused, — probably from their 
 having been published only in a periodical work, (viz. "The Annals of Argriculture,") 
 that the first suggestion of Savings Banks is almost universally attributed to tbe Pro- 
 posal circulated by Mr. Smith of Wendover, twoyearsafter the publication of the Pau- 
 per Management. In that work, instead of the few crude suggestions with which 
 such projects generally commence, the whole system, with its deferred annuities, and 
 other characteristics, will be found to be distinctly explained— 
 
 § See Works, vol. viii. p. 410 et^eq. H^Ibid. vol. viii. p, 417. 
 
INTERNAL ORGANIZATION. 421 
 
 agement from the legislature, and that it ought not to be a source of 
 revenue.* 
 
 Oa the enlightening and civilizing influence of the press, he wrote at 
 more length.t He considered the editor of a newspaper as the admitted 
 president of a department of the public-opinion tribunal, viz. — that por- 
 tion of the public who support, or are directed by, the opinions of the 
 newspaper. He was a friend of the perfect freedom of the press — that 
 is to say, of the principle, that those who write in it should be permitted 
 to say precisely what they please, subject to punishoient for every offence 
 against person, reputation, or properly, which they may commit through 
 a newspaper, just as if they had committed the same offence through any 
 other means. The English law of Libel he considered despotic and ca- 
 pricious. Its principle is, that every man who finds any thing in print 
 which ofiends him, and who has money enough to raise an action, may 
 inflict a heavy punishment on the writer. He sarcastically characterized 
 the formality of a triaJ as a mockery, when founded on such doctrines ; 
 as, the very fact of a man being at tlie expense of prosecuting is of itself 
 the best evidence of his feelings being hurt.t All taxes on knowledge he 
 considered injuries to the wteltare of a state, as an impediment thrown — 
 generally designedly — in the way of national improvement.§ 
 
 SECTION vni. 
 
 INTERNATIONAL LAW. 
 
 All that Bentham' wrote on this' subject, is comprised within a compa- 
 ratively small compass;|{ but it would he unpardonable to omit all men- 
 tion of a science which he was the means of revolutionizing, and which, 
 previously to his taking it in hand, had not even received a proper dis- 
 tinctive name. No work, bearing separately on this subject, written by 
 Bentham was published during his lifetime, and his "Principles of Inter- 
 national Law " made their first appearance in the collected edition. From 
 observations hers and there scattered through his works, his opinions on 
 the subject might be gathered ; but it was almost solely in the great arti- 
 cle by Mr. Mill on the "Law of Natibns " in the Encyclopedia Britan- 
 nica, that the public could find a distinct account of the utilitarian theory 
 of International law. 
 
 It was necessary to establish a distinction between International laws, 
 and laws calculated for iriternal government, which had not been distinc- 
 ly drawn. in the previous works on the subject. The internal laws of a 
 country have always a'Bupelfordinate authority to enforce them when any 
 dispute regarding them takes place among the inhabitants; but when na- 
 tions fall ititbfdisputeS there is no such superordinate impartial authority 
 to bind them to Conformity with any fixed rules: whether the community 
 of civrlizted' nations, may hereafter be able to establish such a tribunal is 
 a separate question. It hence arises that, in the internal laws of a state, 
 
 * See Works, vol. viii. p. 583. 
 
 t Ibid. vol. ii. p. 275' e« s«j. ; v. 97. et seq. ; viii. 580 et seq.; ix. 53 et seq. 
 X Ibid. vol. p. 574 et seq. ; v. 97 et seq. § Ibid. vol. ix. p. 451 
 
 II Ibid, vol. ii. p. 535-560. See tbe sabject casaally introduced, vol. iii. pp. 200, 611; 
 ix. 58, 382- 
 
 3a 
 
422 OUTLINE OF BBNTHAm's OPINIONS. 
 
 there is always an approach more or less near to a uniformity of deci- 
 sion in disputed cases, and that the decisions may be referred to as 
 precedents for future action. In disputes between nations, however, 
 the decisions, if they may be called so, are more properly the victo- 
 ries of the stronger party, and are precedents to be followed by those 
 who are able to imitate them, and to be submitted to by those who 
 must submit. Hence a reference to precedent, as the foundation of 
 International law, must be fallacious, and no principles founded on it 
 can be just. 
 
 What had been done, being quite useless as a guide in this depart- 
 ment, it was maintained that the way to serve mankind in any view 
 that could be taken of the subject was, by showing what ought to be 
 done. The question intervenes — what is the use of showing what 
 ought to be done, when it is admitted that there is no authority capa- 
 ble of doing it, and that we must leave it in the hands which we 
 charge with having already abused it — those of the stronger party in 
 each disputed The answer is, that though there be no distinct official 
 authority capable of enforcing right principles of International law, 
 there is a power bearing with more or less influence on the conduct 
 of all nations, as of all individuals, however transcendently potent they 
 may be — this is the power of public opinion; and it is to the end of di- 
 recting this power rightly, that rules of International law should be 
 framed. 
 
 The power in question has, it is trne, various degrees of influence. 
 The strong are better able to put it at defiance than the weak. 
 Countries which, being the most populous, are likely also to be the 
 strongest, carry a certain support of public opinion with all their acts, 
 whatever they may be. But still it is the only power that can be 
 moved to good purposes in this case ; and, however high some may ap- 
 pear to be above it, there are, in reality, none who are not more or less 
 subject to its influence. The conquerors who have nearly annihilated 
 their enemies, are far from being exempt from the judgment of the 
 public-opinion tribunal, regarding the extent to which, while victo- 
 rious, they have exercised the virtues of generosity and humanity. 
 
 Bentham was opposed to war, as he was to every practice that 
 brought with its destruction and misery; but he held that there were 
 circumstances which might justify it as a choice of evils. He thought 
 there were occasions on which a display of energy was essential to 
 peace and security; and that those theorists who eschewed war as 
 " unlawful," were frequently only saved from a series of oppressions 
 which would form a dangerous precedent against all peaceably-in- 
 clined communities, by the exertions of the bolder spirits with whom 
 they were mingled.* The wars commonly called "glorious" — the 
 wholesale niurder of human beings, on no better impulse than the lust 
 of power and the gratification of vanity, he denounced with all the 
 indignation of his ardent nature. His views of the right principles 
 on which the sword should be drawn, involved a self sacrifice, founded 
 
 * "In drfcnsive force the principle ig, no doubt, involved, that sttack may be re- 
 motely necessary to dc/ence. Z)e/e7(ce is a fair ground for war. The Quaker's objec- 
 tion cannot stand. W hat a fine thing it would have been for Buonaparte to have had 
 to do with auaker nations !"— Vol. x. p. 581. 
 
INTERNATIONAL LAW. 423 
 
 on a conscientious and serious calculation of results. His just national 
 wars were a deliberate and well-weighed resignation of present luxu- 
 ries and advantages, to obtain some end good for the community, and 
 good for mankind; to obtain relief from the demoralizing and de- 
 grading influence of servitude ; or to help a weak nation struggling 
 with a powerful. 
 
 Thus, judging that there were circumstances which would justify 
 declarations of war, he appealed to the tribunal of public opinion re- 
 garding the method of conducting hostilities towards the desired end, 
 with the smallest infringement of the Greatest-happiness principle. 
 On this principle, no evil act should be done to an enemy, unless it 
 will produce a proportional amount of benefit to the side effecting it. 
 The vicissitudes of war afford many opportunities for a choice of ope- 
 rations, in which a benevolent mind will be able to accomplish as 
 much for his own country as a malevolent, without the same sacrifice 
 of life and property. It will be a ruling principle to strike at the go- 
 vernment instead of the people. The disablement of the former is 
 sure to produce the end aimed at, and may occasion a comparatively 
 small amount of misery. When a government is weakened through 
 attacks on the people, the operation is performed in the most cruel 
 manner in which it can be accomplished. There can seldom be much 
 good done by destroying the food and clothing of the people, or by ap- 
 propriating such necessaries, unless they are wanted for the invading 
 army : and the effect to be produced on a contest by such heartless 
 acts, can seldom enter into comparison with the efficacy of a seizure 
 of warlike stores. The one must always be productive of cruelty ; 
 the other may, in the end, serve the purposes of humanity, by termi- 
 nating the contest. Here, as in private ethics, self-regarding pru- 
 dence goes hand in hand, with effective benevolence. There are none 
 against whom the flame of human passion burns more fiercely and 
 enduringly than those who, forgetting the humanity of the man, and 
 the heroism of the soldier, have marked their progress through a hos- 
 tile territory, by smoking hamlets, devastated fields, and homeless 
 orphans. 
 
 As there are mischiefs to be abstained from in war, there are ser- 
 vices for nations to perform to each other in time of peace. They 
 should afford all facilities for commercial intercourse between their 
 own and other nations, and between those foreign states which may 
 have occasion to use their territory as a highway. The civilized part 
 of the world is coming, day by day, nearer to just principles of inter- 
 natioual intercourse. France affording a highway for our communi- 
 cation with onr great oriental empire, and conveying through its go- 
 vernment-telegraph the earliest news of our operations in the east, is 
 a symptom of progress which it would have afforded Bentham the 
 liveliest gratification to witness. Nations should afford each other 
 every- reasonable assistance in the enforcement of the law of private 
 rights belonging to each. A community of nations, bound to give as- 
 sistance to each other's political laws, would be a most dangerous 
 alliance : it would be too apt to become a combination of monarchs for 
 the support of despotism. In agreeing, however, to make parties who 
 seek refuge within its territory amenable to the private laws of the 
 
424 OUTLINE OF BENTHAm's OPINIONS. 
 
 country they have fled from, whether they have attempted to escape 
 from a civil obligation, or from the punishment of a crime, each nation 
 confers a benefit on every other, and, by the reciprocity, a benefit on^ 
 itself. When nations are belter accustomed to the performance of 
 these services to each other, and when free trade has brought them 
 within the circumference of common interests, they will daily find 
 more inducements to preserve the blessings of peace, and fewer causes 
 of irritation urging them to war. 
 
 SECTION IX, 
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY, 
 
 Like all the later writers on the subject of Political Economy, Ben- 
 tham acknowledged Adam Smith as his master; and he professed only 
 to analyze some of those departments which the founder of the science 
 had not examined, or in relaiion to which he had adopted views incon- 
 sistent with the great principles of his own system. 
 
 The chief service which Bentham has done to this science, has been 
 in the application of his exhaustive system to the carrying out, to their 
 full extent, the doctrines of Feee Trade. As in every other subject, 
 he applied to this the criterion of the Greatest-happiness principle, and 
 its bearing on legislation. Political Economy, if it were to be looked 
 upon as an art, he conceived to be the art of supplying mankind at 
 large with llie greatest possible quantity of the produce of industry, 
 and of distributing it in the manner most conducive to the well-being 
 of humanity. When he asked what legislation ought to do towards 
 the accomplishment of these endsi the answer wasv— Let it leave each 
 man to do what seems best to himself The wealth of individuals is 
 the wealth of the community; and each man is the best architect of 
 his own fo: tunes, The preservation of security is all that Political 
 Economy looks to from the legislature — security for wealth created — 
 security for the exercise of ingenuity and industry in creating more — 
 security for enforcing the performance of contracts.* 
 
 This, its essential and simple duty, the legislature was found to be 
 neglecting, while it was occupied in making abortive attempts to per- 
 form the unperformable task of increasing productiveness or decreasing 
 consumption. It denied to the creditor, what it might so easily have 
 given him — facilities for immediate access to,the funds of the dishonest 
 or obstinate debtor. The debtor might be deprived of his liberty on 
 the oath of any ruffian, and his creditor might make him a slave for 
 lite ; but there was no middle course where justice could meet hu- 
 manity — where the unfortunate might be spared the punishment due 
 only to a felon, and the fraudulent might be deprived of the means of 
 defying the law. This state of matters has been much improved in 
 the course of modern Legislation. It cannot be denied that these im- 
 provements are in a great measure owing to the writings of Bentham,f 
 
 * See Works, vol ii. p. 1-103. See also vol. i. p. 302; ii. 209; ix, 11. 
 See Works, vol. i. p. 546 ; iii. 428; v. 533; vi. 135, 176, 180; vii. 381. 
 
POLITICAL ECONOMY. 425 
 
 and they are respectively additions to that security which, in his 
 opinion, was all that Political Economy demanded of the Law. 
 
 Though it cannot, however, frame laws for directly increasing or 
 preserving the wealth of the community, legislation may do much to 
 enable the individual members to do these things rightly for them- 
 selves. Its chief means of accomplishing this is Education. On the 
 effect of intelligence in increasing individual, and thence national 
 production, it is quite unnecessary to enlarge. It gives the engineer 
 the means of inventing, and properly applying machinery. It gives 
 the merchant the means of knowing the most profitable markets. It 
 gives the labourer the means of knowing where his labour is most 
 valued, and enables him, when he finds the trade he is occupied in, 
 falling, or becoming overstocked, to turn his hand to another. In short, 
 in all circumstances, skill, the fruit of education, gives the producer 
 the means of increasing the value of his produce to his own benefit, 
 and to that of the community. (See above, p. 416.) 
 
 Rewards, for exhibitions of sniil or genius in arts and manufactures, 
 are aids to the operation of education : they serve to create emulation, 
 and to open and improve the faculties. On the most judicious moans 
 of adapting these rewards to their ends, he wrote a considerable 
 quantity of remarks and elucidations. He thought the most ingenious- 
 ly-devised source of reward, was that of giving a monopoly, in the use 
 of an invention, to the inventor, for siine limited time — the Patent 
 system. A passage explanatory of his views on this subject will be 
 found above, (p. 192-193.) 
 
 Bentham found one important element, in relation to which Adam 
 Smith had lost hold of the pure principles of free trade. The father of 
 political economy had not succeeded in so completely clearing the 
 nature of money of its adventitious and popular acceptations, as to be 
 able to treat it like an ordinary commodity, subject to the common 
 rules of trade. Hence he supported the Usury laws, which are es- 
 sentially a restriction of free trade in money. As an exposition of 
 this fallacy, Bentham wrote his "Defence of Usury."* It has often 
 been remarked that this title is not a descriptive one — the work is no 
 more a defence of usury than it is a defence of high prices. It merely 
 proves the folly and mischievousness of any attempt to fix the price 
 that should be paid for the use of money. It will be unnecessary to 
 make any analysis of arguments which have now been seconded by 
 the almost entire abolition of the Usury laws. 
 
 Bentham's other works on Political Economy are chiefly occupied in 
 the exposure of the fallacy of those artificial eflforts which legislation 
 makes to increase the country's wealth. One of the most prominent 
 and extravagant of these he found to' be colonies; and in some of the 
 foregoing extracts, his views of the costliness of the British Colonial 
 System will be found pretty fully explained, (p. 195-200.) 
 
 Colonization is not without its advantages, though few of them fall 
 to the share of the mother country. It may he the means of removing 
 the damaged part of a population, through a system of emigration. 
 It is only, however, in peculiar circumstances that it will not be a very 
 
 * Commencement of vol. iii. of the Works. 
 
 36* 
 
426 OUTLINE OF BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 extravagant means of accomplishing this end. If there is another 
 country which will absorb our damaged* population, the support of 
 colonies for the purpose, is just paying for what may be got for no- 
 thing. Colonization may be the means of spreading the blessings of 
 civilization among savage tribes: here there is a palpable advantage 
 to those tribes themselves, and to the world at large ; but it is obtained 
 at a sacrifice on the part of the mother country. It will sometimes 
 occur, that the possession of fortified places abroad is serviceable for 
 the protection of the free commerce of a nation ; but this is a benefit 
 of rare occurrence, and is very often supposed to be obtained when it 
 is not. 
 
 The science of Political Economy has made so much progress, espe- 
 pially in the department of free trade, since the date of Bentham's 
 writings on the subject, that it will hardly be of service to analyze 
 his arguments against Monopolies, Prohibitions, Restrictions, and 
 Bounties.f As some of his opinions on these subjects, however, are 
 laid down with remarkable clearness and precision, some passages in 
 jvhich they appear are given above, (p. 194, et seq.) 
 
 The reader who takes an interest in financial projects will find 
 fnuch to engage his attention in the plan for converting stock into 
 Annuity notes.| The project is an improyement on the Exchequer 
 Bill system. It invites Government to come into the field in opposi- 
 tion to the private banks, with the advantage ip its favour of allowing in- 
 terest on its paper securities. The notes are to be of various amounts. 
 They are to carry interest daily from the day of issue, and are each 
 to have a table by which its value in interest added to capital may be 
 ascertained on any given day. The Author was of opinion that these 
 
 * The term "surplus population" is generally employed in relation to emigration; 
 but this implies an application of the system too wide to be practicable. Population 
 never can be too great when there is employpient for all; and no nation could afford 
 to carry off the numbers annually added to ^ population which, by such removals, has 
 free room to grow. All who can be renioyed by any practicable system are immedi- 
 ately replaced; and, before any advantage can be had by the reinoval, it must be 
 shown that, by some improvement in the institutions and habits of the country, the 
 unproductive individuals removed are to be replaced by productive. The committee 
 of the House of Commons, of 1841, on emigration from the Highlands, with great cau- 
 tion, recommended that no money for the purpose should be advanced by Government, 
 until there was some security, in an amendment of the Scottish Poor Law, that a si- 
 milar unproductive population should not succeed to those so removed. 
 
 t Probably the only department of Political Econoipy in which Bentham is behind 
 the knowledge of the present age, (his works on thjsscience were almost all written in 
 the ]8lh century,) is in his views of the incidence of machinery on the wages of labour. 
 Taking the direct advantages of machinery on the one side— cheapness of production, 
 and the command of foreign markets arising out of that cheapness— he deducted from 
 these the loss to labour, (vol. iii. pp. 39,67-68.) He had forgotten to keep in view, that 
 of the capital exhausted on hand-made and that on machine-made produce, it is not a 
 necessarytfactthat a lessproportiop of the latter should go in the form of wages of la- 
 bour than of the former. In the pase. for instance, of a certain capital spent on the pro- 
 duction of stockings, if they are hand knit, the wages go to the knitter; while if they be 
 machine-made, the wages go to the miner, the smeller, the machine maker, &c. The ele- 
 ments of the prices of commodities are, rent of land, on which the raw material is pro- 
 duced— wages of labour— and profits of stock. These elements will vary in their pro- 
 portions, according to incidental circumstances; but it does not follow that they will 
 be necessarily different in the case of hand. produce, from what they are in the case of 
 machine-produce. Another discovery of modern science in this department, which 
 seems not to have been anticipated by Bentham, is, the fallacy as to the influence of 
 the Sinking Fund, so clearly exposed by Dr. Robert Hamilton in his work on the Na- 
 tional Debt. 
 
 } Works, vol. iii. p. 105 etse^. 
 
LOGIC AND METAPHYSICS. 427 
 
 notes would be used as cash, as of their value on each day according 
 to the table. 
 
 SECTION X. 
 
 LOOIO AND METAPHYSICS.* 
 
 Bentham did not draw a line of distinction between these sciences; 
 and he seems to have considered the terms almost convertible. It 
 follows that he did not treat the subject of Logic, as it has generally 
 been done, particularly by late writers, as a formal science,f teaching 
 the laws of thought, as distinct from those sciences which treat of the 
 matter of thought. How far he would have continued his mixture of the 
 two subjects, after he had made some approach to completeness in his 
 examination of the various departments of mental philosophy, it is diffi- 
 cult to say. He seems to have projected at one time a full and search- 
 ing inquiry into all the qualities and operations of the human mind, 
 including an investigation not only of the laws of thought, but of the 
 materials on which they work. To this end, he more than once set 
 himself down to examine and classify the powers of the mind. He 
 exhibited an intention of pursuing the examination of mental opera- 
 tions with a comprehensive, and, at the same time, most minute ana- 
 tomy. To this purpose, he divided and subdivided the materials of 
 thought; and being brought by his subdivisions into an analysis of the 
 matter of language and grammar, left, in his fragments on these two 
 subjects, specimens of the minuteness with which he intended to go 
 over the whole field. 
 
 His notion of Logic was, that it was the means of getting at the 
 truth, in relation to all departments of human knowledge ;| and that 
 it thus was, to use his own expression, the school-mistress of all the 
 other arts and sciences.^ It would seem, then, to be included in his 
 view of the subject, that any system of Logic, which left the student 
 ignorant of the means of ascertaining the truth in regard to any one 
 element of human knowledge, was an imperfect system. If Logic 
 be considered as divided into the Analytic and Dialectic branches, the 
 latter half of the subject was entirely rejected by Bentham; for, view- 
 ing dialectics in its original signification of the art of debating, he 
 considered it as an instrument of deception rather than of truth — as a 
 system of rules for enabling the more adroit disputant to defeat the less 
 able. If, however, Logic be divided into the Analytic branch and 
 the Synthetic,|| he hasleft behind him traces of his labours in both 
 
 * The Works referred to in this Section are those in vol. viii. down to p. 357. See 
 also vol. ill. p. 285 etseq. 
 
 t The single word science is here used, for the sake of brevity, though Bentham, 
 like Whately, considered that Logic was both a Science and an Art. 
 
 } Works, vol. viii. pp. 220, 222. § Ibid. p. 76. 
 
 I Bentham would not himself have admitted the use of the terms Analysis and 
 Synthesis with this popular acceptation. In a very curious note, (vol. viii. p. 75,) he 
 has shown that the same elements separated in analysis are never the same that are 
 put together in synthesis. The pieces, if they may be so called, with which the pro- 
 cess of synthesis is performed, are not the same which result from the process of ana. 
 lysis. " The subject analyzed is an aggregate or genus, which is divided into tpecies , 
 
428 ODTLINE OF BENTHAM's OPINIONS. 
 
 departments: in the former examining' the phenomena which tlie 
 mind exhibits in the process of acquiring truth; in the latter, con- 
 structing instruments to facilitate its discovery. 
 
 Perhaps the most remarkable and original feature of the analytic 
 portion of the fragments, is the division of all nouns-substantive into 
 names of Real, and names of Fictitious entities; a distinction which 
 he follows out with his usual clearness and consistency, and of which 
 he never, in any of his works, loses sight. If this classification in 
 some measure resemble Aristotle's division into Primary and Se- 
 condary substances, it will be found, on examination, to have a much 
 more comprehensive influence, and, from the manner in which its au- 
 thor employs it, to have a much more important application to the ar- 
 rangement of the elements of thought. Nouns expressing real enti- 
 ties are names of things of which we predicate the actual existence — 
 such as a ball, a wheel, an impression on the mind, &.c. Nouns ex- 
 pressive of fictitious entities, are, all those nouns which do not express 
 such actual existences. The distinction seems to be a pretty obvious 
 one ; but the uses which its author makes of it are noyel and important. 
 In our phraseology as to fictitious entities, we borrow the forms of 
 words which have been invented for-explaining the phenomena of real 
 entities ; and we cannot speak of the former without the actual use, 
 or think of them without the mental use, of these forms of words. 
 Thus motion is a fictitious entity. We talk of motion being in a thing, 
 or of a thing being in motion; and in using the preposition in, we 
 borrow a word which was invented to be used upon physical matter. 
 Relation is a fictitious entity: one thing is said to have a relation to 
 another, and in this word have we are obliged to borrow a word con- 
 structed for the purpose intimating corporeal possession. The method 
 in which I have my pen, and the method in which logic may have a. 
 relation to metaphysics, are two very different ideas ; but we cannot 
 express the latter without borrowing the use of those words which 
 were constructed to represent the former. Hence, fictitious entities 
 cannot appear in language, our instrument of thought, except through 
 the use of borrowed words. They have no phraseology of their own, 
 and can have none. Whether they have separate existence or not 
 is a question we have no data for determining: to our minds they 
 are so unreal, that we cannot think of them without clothing them 
 for the time-being in the words which are invented for thinking of real 
 entities.* How far a pursuit of this subject would throw light on the 
 old dispute of the Realists and iMaterialists — how far misapprehension 
 as to the actual subject of discussion may have Arisen from this ne- 
 cessity of borrowing the phraseology of real entities, for the purpose 
 of discussing fictitious entities, is an inquiry on which the prfesent 
 writer cannot venture. 
 
 The next feature prominently demanding attention in the logical 
 tracts, is the instrument which their Author used for analyzing and 
 
 those into sub-species, and so on. The only case in which synthesis is exactly oppo- 
 site and correspondent to, and no more than coextensive with analysis, iej, when be- 
 tween the ideas put together there is that sort of conform^y from which the act of 
 putting them together receives the name of generalization" 
 * See Works, vol. viii. pp. 119, 126, 195 et seq., 263. 
 
LOGIC AND METAPHYSICS. 429 
 
 laying out subjects — his exhaustive method of division, on the Dicho- 
 tomous or Bifurcate plan. He took-the hint of this system from the 
 old editions of the Isagoge of Porphyry, in which there is a diagram 
 exhibiting an exemplification of it, commonly attributed to the inven- 
 tive genius of Porphyry himself, but probably the work of an editor. 
 The dichotomous mode of division is frequently alluded to in the wri- 
 tings of the Aristotelian logicians, and it received considerable atten- 
 tion from Ramus ; but it was, like many other instruments of discovery, 
 a mere plaything for the intellect, until it fell into the hands of a man 
 who was able to adapt it to practical service. The Porphyrian tree re- 
 presents as the centre or trunk a genus generalissimum, from which 
 successive branches issuing carry off some separable quality, until it 
 has gone through as many processes of division as can be applied to 
 it, and leaves in the last two condividends the two most concrete 
 entities which can be comprehended within the general term. 
 
 The service which Bentham derived from the study of this diagram, 
 was in its leading him to the conclusion that the only species of divi- 
 sion which in its very terms bears to be exhaustive, is a division into 
 two. It may happen that any other division — such as that of the 
 works of nature into the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, 
 may, turn out to be exhaustive : but the object is to find a formula the 
 use of w-bich of itself secures exhaustiveness. 
 
 It is only by a division into two parts that logical definition per 
 genus el diffkrentiam can be accomplished. The species is marked 
 off by its possessing the quality of the genus, and some differential 
 quality which separates it from the other species of that genus. It is 
 only by the expression of a difference as between two, that thought 
 and language enable us to say whether the elements of the thing di- 
 vided are exhausted in the condividends. We can only compare two 
 things together-^we cannot compare three or more at one time. In 
 common language we do speak of comparing together more things 
 than two; but the operation by which we accomplish this end is com- 
 pound, consisting of deductions drawn from a series of comparisons, 
 each relating to only two things at a time. Comparison is the es- 
 timate of differences; and language, by giving us the word "between," 
 as that by which we take the estimate, shows that we can only ope- 
 rate on two things at a time. Thus, if we have a division of an ag- 
 gregate into three, we cannot give such a nomenclature to these three 
 elements as will show that they exhaust the aggregate. If we say 
 law is divided into penal and non-penal, we feel certain, in the very 
 form of the statement, that we include every sort of law under one or 
 other of these designations ; but if we say that law is divided into 
 real, personal, and penal, we cannot be, in the same manner, sure 
 that we include every kind of law. If we wish to proceed farther 
 in the division, and, gfter dividing the law into penal and non-penal, 
 say the non-penal is divided into that which affects persons and that 
 which does not affect persons, we are sure still to be exhaustive; and 
 this system we can continue with the same certainty ad infinitum. 
 
 The system is undoubtedly a laborious and a tedious one, when the 
 subject is large, and the examination minute. The exemplifications 
 
430 OUTLINE OP bentham's opinions. 
 
 which the Author has given in his tables are the produce of great 
 labour, and cover but a limited extent of subject. It was more as a 
 test of the accuracy of the analysis made by the mind when pro- 
 ceeding with its ordinary abbreviated operations, than as an instru- 
 ment to be actually used on all occasions, that the Author adopted 
 the bifurcate system. As a means of using it with the more clear- 
 ness and certainty, he recommended the adaptation to it of the Contra- 
 dictory formula — viz., the use of a positive affirmation of a quality in 
 one of the condividends, and the employment of the correspondent ne- 
 gative in the other. The value of this test, as applicable to any de- 
 scription of argumentative statement, is, in its bringing out intended 
 contrasts with clearness and certainty. Itis not necessary that the Dif- 
 ferential formula should be actually employed. In its constant use 
 there would be an end to all freedom and variety in style. But it is 
 highly useful, to take the statement to pieces, and try whether its 
 various propositions^contain within them the essence of the bifurcate 
 system and the formula ; in other words, to see that when differences 
 are explained, or contrasts made, they be clearly applied to only two 
 things at a time, and that the phraseology, instead of implying vague 
 elen\ents of difference, explains distinctly what the one thing has, and 
 what the other has not.* 
 
 * For an account of the Bifurcate systetn, See Works, vol. viii. pp. 95, 103, 107, 
 110, IH, 233. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 A. 
 
 Absolution, the power of, 50,51. 
 Absurdity, the mind debilitated 
 
 by receiving, 234, 235. 
 Abundance as an object of the 
 
 Law, 384. 
 Abuse, arguing from the use to 
 
 the — Fallacy in the common 
 
 remark about, 257. 
 Abuses, inquiry as to what kinds 
 
 of, 'will not find supporters, 239, 
 
 240. 
 Legal. Popular apathy to, 178, 
 
 179. 
 Accused, aphorism that judges 
 
 should be counsel for the, 317- 
 
 319. 
 Acts of Parliament, principles of 
 
 reform in the drawing of, 216, 
 
 401402. 
 Adjectives, rules for the clear 
 
 use of, 207. 
 Affidavit Evidence, 296, 297. 
 Ambiguity, rules for avoiding, 
 
 209. 
 
 distinguished from obscurity, 
 
 105,106. 
 America, an invasion of, 64, 65. 
 Analysis, mental History of the 
 
 origin of the process of, 219- 
 
 222. 
 Anarchy and despotism, 114, 115. 
 Ancestors, fallacy in talking of 
 
 the wisdom or virtue of, 108, 
 
 230. 
 
 Anglo-Saxons, pecuniary punish- 
 ments of, 341, 342. 
 
 Annual farliaments, Bentham's 
 opinion in favour of, 396, 397. 
 
 Antipathy and sympathy, the mo- 
 tives connected with, 43-45, 
 
 Antiquity, prejudices in favour of, 
 with regard to laws, 125. 
 
 Applause, popular, 53. 
 
 Approbation, love of— Illustrations 
 of the motive of, 45, 46. 
 
 Arbitrary transference of the laws 
 of one country to another — Il- 
 lustrations of the effect of, 118- 
 122. 
 
 Aristocracies never abdicate, 71. 
 
 Aristotle noticed, 108, 203. 
 
 Arrangement, origin of the art of, 
 118-121. 
 
 Ashhurst, Sir William — his opi- 
 nions on the law, in his charge 
 to the Middlesex Grand Jury, 
 controverted, 145-150. 
 
 Atheists, the Rules rejecting the 
 testimony of, 311, 312. 
 
 Atrocity of a charge made a rea- 
 son for disbelief, 312-314. 
 
 Attendance, judicial, 136, 137. 
 
 Authentication of Deeds, Cum- 
 brous formalities for, 297, 298. 
 
 Authenticity of deeds, litigations 
 on the, 166, 167. 
 
 Authority, fallacious deference tOj 
 259. 2 
 
 Bacon noticed, 85. 
 
432 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Bacon, Bentham's discoveries com- 
 pared with those of, 374, 409. 
 Ballot, The — Bentham's opinion 
 
 in favour of, 396-399. 
 Banishment, wrongful— the effects 
 
 of, 118. 
 Bar, The profession of the, 173. 
 Barre, Colonel — his character 
 
 356. 
 Barrington, Daines — the charac- 
 ter of, 355, 356. 
 Begging the Question, 223. 
 Belief, The origin of, 261-263. 
 Compulsory, 294, 295. 
 in Testimony, Foundation of, 
 274r278. 
 
 in the Supernatural, Source of, 
 267-271. 
 Bentham, Jeremy — Outline of the 
 Life of, xii, xxi. 
 
 Outline of the opinions of, 
 373, 429. 
 
 The practical measures of, 
 374, 375. 
 
 His sympathy with a high 
 and disinterested tone of cha- 
 racter, 380. 
 Bentham, Sir Samuel, noticed, 
 
 xvi, 412. 
 Bifurcate division. Plan of, 424, 
 
 425. 
 Bigotry, The cause of, 261-263. 
 Bill, a — How to bring in, with 
 precautions against its passing, 
 116, 117. 
 Bill's, Parliamentary. Reform^ in 
 
 the drawing of, 402. 
 Births, Bentham's Plan for a Re- 
 gister of, 418. 
 Bishops, Allusion to the salaries of, 
 
 184, 185. 
 BlacI<stone referred to, 109, 135, 
 143, 144, 149. 
 
 His theory of the soeial com- 
 pact criticized, 240-244. 
 Blood, Corruption of, 348-350. 
 Bounties, Influence of, 194. 
 Bribery compared with intimida- 
 tion, 115. 
 Brougham, Henry Lord, noticed, 
 32. 
 
 Burdett, Sir Francis, noticed, 82, 
 470. 
 
 Capital, coextensive with trade, 
 
 198-200. 
 Cartwright, Major, noticed, 82. 
 Castlereagh, Lord, noticed, 109. 
 Cartherine of Russia noticed, 65, 
 123. 
 
 her labours for justice fell 
 short of what she aimed at, for 
 want of publicity in courts of 
 justice, 139. 
 Censure, Free — of Existing Insti- 
 tutions, 236-239. 
 Chadwick, Edwin — His Sanatory 
 
 Inquiry, 419. 
 Chancery, history of the Court of, 
 161-163. 
 
 the shilling fees of masters in, 
 165, 166. 
 Charles V. of Germany noticed, 
 
 71. 
 Charteris, Colonel, noticed, 184. 
 Chatham, the second Lord, 151. 
 Children, Training and education 
 of, 413, 417-418. 
 reason of the readiness of their 
 belief, 277, 278. 
 Christina of Sweden noticed, 71. 
 Church, Fallacious use of the 
 word, to serve political pur- 
 poses, 224-228. 
 of England, absolution in, 61. 
 of England, Advantage it took 
 of the union with Scotland, 228- 
 230 
 
 Holy Mother, the vacations of, 
 135, 136. 
 Churches, exclusion from the, as 
 
 a punishment, 51. 
 Circuits, origin and use of, 154, 
 
 155. 
 Circumstantial Evidence, Forgery 
 
 of, illustrated, 298-301. 
 Class interests, 49, .50. 
 
433 
 
 Clearness, rules for, in style, 206- 
 212. 
 
 Cobbett,William, noticed, 82, 110. 
 
 Cochrane, Lord, noticed, 82. 
 
 Code, the Penal — Bcntham's prin- 
 ciples of, 406-414. 
 
 Codification, fientham's principles 
 of, 401. 
 
 Coke, Chief Justice, quoted, 149, 
 167. 
 
 Mr. Justice, his summary way 
 of determining causes, 353. 
 
 Colonial Monopolies, Fallacy of, 
 explained, 195-198. 
 
 Colonies, Bentham's opinions on, 
 60,425. 
 
 Common informers, 325. 
 
 Common law, public opinion upon 
 a par with, 48. 
 
 and its quarrels with equity, 
 158, 159. 
 
 Courts, of what composed, 
 152, 153. 
 
 Courts, Imbecility of the 
 English, 156, 157. 
 
 Common sense as a standard of 
 right and wrong, 25. 
 
 Compact, Social — Theory of the, 
 criticized, 240-244. 
 
 Compensation, principles of, 386. 
 
 Competition, salaries as the sub- 
 ject of, 186, 187. 
 
 Composing, conduct of the under- 
 standing in, 217. 
 
 Composition, Rules for clearness 
 in, 206-212. 
 
 Compromising litigations,169,170. 
 
 Confinement, Wrongful — the ef- 
 fects of, 118. 
 
 Conquest, Wars for, 65-67. 
 
 Conspiracy, indication of a dan- 
 gerous character, 338. 
 
 Constitution, essentials of a — ac- 
 cording to the Trench Declara- 
 tion of Rights, 94-96. 
 our matchless, 107, 109. 
 
 Constitutional Code, Purport of 
 the, 397-399, 417-419. 
 
 Contract, Social . Theory of the, . 
 criticized, 240-244, 260. 
 37 
 
 Contractors alarmed at innova- 
 tion, 52. 
 
 Contradictions, verbal, distinguish- 
 ed from impossibilities, 263-265. 
 
 Convictions of justices, Dialogue 
 on quashing, 329-332. 
 
 Corporation, a — How to pillage, 
 167-169. 
 
 Correspondence, Familiar — Speci- 
 mens of, 362-370. 
 
 Corruption of blood, 348-350. 
 
 Country, is property the security 
 for attachment to T 83. 
 
 Courts of Justice, Bentham's ar- 
 rangements for, 403405. 
 English, Manufacture of law by 
 the, 150-154. 
 
 English Common-law, Imbeci- 
 lity of the, 156,157. 
 of Justice, Publicity in, 139, 
 140. 
 
 Credulity, The, of ignorance, 272- 
 274. 
 
 Crime, Evidence of, from prepara- 
 tions to commit, 301-303. 
 
 Crimes, Rules for estimating the 
 danger from, 332, 333. 
 
 Criminal Law, Characteristics of 
 the English, 321-324. 
 Trials, Dramatic interest of, 
 321. 
 
 Criminals. The principle, that 
 they are not bound to criminate 
 themselves, commented on, 304, 
 307, 310. 
 Rejection of the testimony of, 
 
 3n. 
 
 Judges recommending them not 
 to confess, 317. 
 
 The forms in which they pro- 
 vide evidence against them- 
 selves, 314, 315. 
 
 Cromwell, Conversation with Lud- 
 low on Law Reform, 353. 
 
 Crown, Fallacious use of the word, 
 224. 
 
 Lustre and dignity of The, Use 
 made of these ternis, 202, 203. 
 
 Custom-house oaths, 286. 
 
434 
 
 D. 
 
 Danger from offences, Rules for 
 estimating the, 332-334. 
 
 Dartry, Lord, noticed, 356. 
 
 Dead, False Laudation of the, 231. 
 232. 
 
 Death, Punishment of, compared 
 with perpetual imprisonment, 
 342, 343. - 
 
 The prodigal use of as a pun- 
 ishment, by Legislators, 343. 
 
 Debate, Unity of the subject of, 
 should be Jfept inviolate, 131, 
 132. 
 
 Debating, The process of, should 
 be distinct from, and prior to that 
 of voting, 132,133. 
 
 Debt, National — Effect -of a 
 sponge on the, 81, 82. 
 
 Deceptions terms. Use of, 203, 
 204. 
 
 Declaration of Rights, French — 
 General remarks on the, 104- 
 107. 
 
 Declaration of Rights, Specimens 
 of a criticism on the French, 
 84, 104. Clause that all men are 
 born free, 84-89. As to na- 
 tural and imprescriptible rights, 
 89-98. Defining and bounding 
 98-100. As to actions prohi- 
 bited, 100-102. As to the essen- 
 tials of a political constitution, 
 102-104. 
 
 Deeds, cumbrous formalities for 
 authentication of, 297, 298. 
 Litigations on the authenticity 
 of, 166, 167. 
 Defence, national — Opulence the 
 
 the source of, 201. 
 Delay,, where is the interest of 
 lawyers in, limited 1 170-178. 
 Fallacies in favour of, 253, 
 254. 
 
 The law's, 137. 
 Delicacy, physical and moral com- 
 pared, 42, 43. 
 Deodands, 352, 353. 
 
 Deontology or morality, how con- 
 sidered by Bentham, 383. 
 Depredation, official. Natural, 
 
 history of, 187, 188. 
 Des Cartes noticed, 85. 
 Despot, interest qf a, in the pros- 
 perity of his subjects, 68. 
 Despotic legislation, spirit of, 70. 
 Despotism, anarchy and, 114, 
 115. 
 
 Dignity, factitious — Ratio of, to 
 happiness, 47, 48. 
 
 Disappointment-preventing Prin- 
 ciple — Explanation of the, 385- 
 386. 
 
 Discipline. Prison — Bentham's 
 principles of, 412, 413. 
 
 Disgrace, as a punishment, 343, 
 344. 
 
 Disposition, how it affects the mis- 
 chievousness of an act, 333- 
 337. 
 
 The bearing of, on the danger 
 of an offence, 332, 333. 
 
 Dispositions, elemenls of human 
 31-40. To be judged from ef- 
 fects, 31-34. A man's dispo- 
 sition considered with reference 
 to effect on his own happiness, 
 and on that of others, 32. Mis- 
 chievous and beneficent dispo- 
 sition, ib. Tendency in con- 
 nexion with motive and inten- 
 tion, 32, 33. Self-regarding 
 motive, 33, 34. Motive of 
 good-will, 34, 35. Motive of 
 love of reputation, 36. Reli- 
 gion, 37, 38. Ill-will and male- 
 volence, 39, 40. 
 
 Distress, character of an offender 
 inferred from aggravation of, 
 337. 
 
 Distrust, fallacies ofi 255, 256. 
 
 Division, bifurcate — plan of, 428- 
 429. 
 
 Dogmatism in those who- cannot 
 think for themselves, 217, 218. 
 
 Donnellan, Captain— the trial of, 
 300, 301. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 435 
 
 Duty, moral— as a standard of 
 right and wrong, 28. 
 
 E. 
 
 Ecclesiastical Courts, mode of pro- 
 ceeding in, 153, 154. 
 
 Economy, political — Bentham's 
 opinions on, 423-426. 
 
 Edgeworth, Maria— the moral in- 
 fluence of her novels, 172. 
 
 Education, Bentham's opinions on, 
 426,427. 
 
 Elect, the — as arbiters of right 
 and wrong, 27. 
 
 Election Districts, equal, 406- 
 409. 
 
 Elections, Bentham's plans for, 
 394-396. 
 
 Eleemosynary advocates, 404. 
 
 Ellenborough, Lord—noticed, 113, 
 138. 
 
 End, the — fallacy of saying it jus- 
 tifies the means, 257, 258. 
 
 English and Scottish lawyers, 
 173. 
 
 Entities, real and fictitious, 427. 
 
 Equalization of property, antici- 
 pated eifects of a general, 73- 
 ■81. 
 
 Equality as an object of the Law, 
 384. 
 
 Equity, natural, as a standard of 
 right and wrong, 26. 
 What it is, 146. 
 Description of a suit in, 159, 
 160. 
 
 Common-law and its quarrels 
 with, 160, 161. 
 
 Courts, of what composed, 151, 
 152. 
 
 Inadequacy of the preventive 
 remedies in, 160, 161. 
 
 Estimate, practicability of getting 
 public services performed by, 
 186, 187. 
 
 Ethics, how discussed by Ben-- 
 tham, 383. 
 
 Evidence, view of Bentham's wri- 
 tings on, 393, 394. 
 
 Evidence, Foundation of belief in, 
 274-278. 
 
 Judicial — the science of, 296. 
 Evidence, characteristics of, in 
 English Penal Law, 323. 
 Circumstantial, forgery of, il- 
 lustrated, 298-301. 
 as taken from preparation to 
 commit crime, 301-303. 
 The rejection of a criminal's, 
 against himself, commented 
 on, 304.307, 310. 
 The rejection of a wife's, 
 against her husband, 307-310. 
 The rules rejecting particular 
 kinds of, 310-312. 
 against a charge, inferred from 
 its atrocity, 312-314. 
 The forms in which criminals 
 provide it against themselves, 
 314, 315. 
 
 Rank and wealth as, against 
 criminal charges, 315-317. 
 of guilt, Silence as, 319-321. 
 Scientific, 303, 304. 
 Affidavit, 296, 297. 
 Evil, the absence of a certain 
 quantity of, all that can be ex- 
 , pected from good laws, 127. 
 Example, punishment to be calcu- 
 lated for, 411. 
 Exchequer, the Court of, 158, 
 
 159. 
 Excommunication, the punish- 
 ment of, 153. 
 Exculpative Perjury, rarity of, 
 
 295, 296. 
 Experience as the foundation of 
 
 belief in testimony, 274-278. 
 Exportation, bounties on, 194. 
 Expression, inaccuracy of— 'its ef- 
 fects, 214, 215. 
 Extortion, effects of, in different 
 political situations, 122. 
 
 Fallacy of " Don't argue from the 
 use to the abuse," 257. 
 
436 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Fallacy, that "The end justifies 
 the means," 257, 259. 
 that there are no grievances 
 where no complaints, 258, 
 259. 
 
 ofDelay,253,254. 
 ofDistrust, 255, 256. 
 
 Fallacies, Bentham's exertions in 
 exposing, 392, 393. 
 The unconscious adoption of, 
 236. 
 
 Fallacious designations, influence 
 of, 224. 
 
 False reasoning, the mind debili- 
 tated by, 234, 235. 
 
 Falsehood, Bentham's war against, 
 388-394. 
 
 not natural to mankind, 278, 
 279. 
 
 The evils of, 339. 
 when a separate aggravation 
 of crime, 339. 
 
 Familiar terms misunderstood, 
 214. 
 
 Fictions of law, Bentham's attacks 
 on, 342. 
 
 Fitness of Things as a standard 
 of right and wrong, 26. 
 
 Forgery of circumstantial evi- 
 dence illustrated, 298-301. 
 
 Formalities — Cumbrous, for au- 
 thentication of deeds, 297, 
 298. 
 
 Foundations, Falsehood encou- 
 raged by, 390, 391. 
 
 Fox — Charles, noticed, 82. 
 
 Francis I. noticed, 124. 
 
 Frederick the Great, his labours 
 for justice fell short of what he 
 aimed at, for want of publicity 
 in courts of justice, 139. 
 noticed, 65. 
 
 Free inquiry into existing institu- 
 tions. The duty of, 236-239. 
 Trade, Bentham's opinions on, 
 423. 
 
 That all men are born and re- 
 main—Fallacy of, 84, 85. 
 
 French Declaration of Rights, 
 
 Specimens of a criticism on the, 
 84-104. 
 Friendly societies, Bentham's 
 views on, 319. 
 
 G. 
 
 Genus, origin of the notion of, 221, 
 222. 
 
 George III. noticed, 68, 69. 
 
 Ghosts, Imperfection of the evi- 
 dence for the appearance of, 
 271, 272. 
 
 Glory, fallacious use of the term, 
 203. 
 
 Government, Bentham's system 
 of, 394-400. 
 
 Mutual panegyrics by mem- 
 bers of, 182-184. 
 The origin of, 240-244. 
 
 Gradual reform, fallacies in sup- 
 port of, 253, 254. 
 
 Gratuitous cruelty, Character of 
 an offender inferred from, 338. 
 
 Greatest-happiness Principle, Ex- 
 planation of the, 373, 381. 
 
 Sources of the opposi- 
 tion to, 37.5, 376. 
 
 How it is adapted to 
 each man's desire to pursue 
 his own'pleasure, 378-381. 
 
 Its adaptation to Morals 
 and Legislation, 382-390. 
 
 The dictates of public 
 opinion coincide with, 48. 
 
 Grievances, fallacy in saying 
 there are none where there are 
 no complaints, 258, 259. 
 
 Grotius — Hugo, noticed, 107. 
 
 Guilt, silence as evidence of, 319- 
 321. 
 
 H. 
 
 Habeas corpus act, the, 115. 
 Happiness, Ratio of wealth to, 
 46-48. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 437 
 
 Happiness, the general pursuit of, 
 
 376-381. 
 
 Greatest, the principle ex- 
 plained, 373-381. 
 
 See Greatest happiness. 
 Hard labour in prison discipline, 
 
 346, 347. 
 Harris's Hermes, referred to, 213. 
 Headman, local, according to the 
 
 Constitutional Code, 418, 419. 
 Health minister, functions of the, 
 
 419. 
 Hereditary legislatures, Ben- 
 
 tham'e objection to, 347. 
 History, Natural — Criticism on 
 
 the term, 218, 219. 
 Hobbes, noticed, 117. 
 Honour, Inequality in the distribu- 
 tion of, 48. 
 
 Fallacious use of the term 
 
 203. 
 Howard, the value of his labours, 
 
 356. 
 Human dispositions, elements of, 
 
 31-40. 
 Hume — David, noticed, 64. 
 Hunt — Henry, noticed, 82. 
 
 Ignorance, the credulity of, 272- 
 
 274. 
 
 The source of belief in the 
 
 super-natural, 267-271. 
 Illegal, absurdity of applying the 
 , term, to bad laws, 251, 252. 
 Impossibility distinguished from 
 
 improbability, 265, 266. 
 
 Popular and fallacious use of 
 
 the term, 261-263. 
 Impossibilities distinguished from 
 
 verbal contradictions, 263-265. 
 Improbability distinguished from 
 
 impossibility, 265, 266. 
 India, British, improved by mili- 
 tary discipline, 57. 
 Individual rights identified with 
 
 those of the public, 254, 255. 
 
 Individual, responsibility, Ben- 
 tham's principles of, 398, 399. 
 
 Indolence, official. Effects of, 
 189, 190. 
 
 Information, secret. Prejudices 
 against, 326, 327. 
 
 Informers, Common. Motives of, 
 and prejudices against, 325, 
 326. 
 
 Ingenuity, proper principles of 
 encouragement for, 192, 193. 
 
 Injnries^Simple mental, differ- 
 ent effects of, on different na- 
 tions and sects, 119, 120. 
 
 Injustice, popular^ Charges of, 
 '55, 56. 
 
 Innovation, the dread of, charac- 
 terized, 252. 
 
 Sinister interests alarmed at, 
 52, 53. 
 
 Inoculation, ought it to have been 
 established by law 1 123. 
 
 Institutions, established. Free in- 
 quiry into the merits of, recom- 
 mended, 236, 237. 
 
 Interest, sinister, alarmed at inno- 
 vation, 52, 53. 
 
 Unequal contest between 
 reason and, 53. 
 
 Interest, class, 49, 50. 
 
 International law, Bentham's 
 principles of, 420-423. 
 
 Intimidation, bribery compared 
 with, 115. 
 
 Inquiry, free, into existing insti- 
 tutions, recommended, 236, 
 237. 
 
 Intolerance, religious, 31. 
 
 Invention, nature of, 280. 
 
 Inventions, proper principles of 
 patents for, 192, 193. 
 
 Irregular nouns and verbs, history 
 of, 215, 216. 
 
 Irrevocable laws, the absurdity of 
 making, 244-246. 
 
 37* 
 
 Jackson — General, noticed, 64. 
 
438 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 James II. noticed, 61, 109. 
 
 Jargon, Legal, 143, 144. 
 
 Jealousies, National, 63, 64. 
 
 Jobbing Politicians, 179. 
 
 Joseph II., his error in not con- 
 sidering the dispositions of the 
 people in the changes he pro- 
 posed, 122, 123. 
 
 Judicatories, simplicity in 155. 
 
 Judicial attendance, 136, 137. 
 Establishment, Bentham's 
 
 plans for a, 403, 404. 
 oaths, inquiry into the utility 
 of, 286-292. 
 
 Judges in Parliament, 133-135. 
 Aphorism that they should be 
 counsel for prisoner, 317-319. 
 recommending criminals not 
 to confess, 317. 
 
 Opinion on the proper qualifi- 
 cations of, 404. 
 Unlearned, never find fame, 
 138. 
 Salaries of, 184, 185. 
 
 Juries, how to produce subser- 
 viency in, 175. 
 Unanimity in, 175, 176. 
 
 Jury Trial, Bentham's opinions 
 on, 405. 
 
 Jurymen's oaths, the utility of, 
 examined, 293, 294. 
 
 Justice, courts of. See Courts of 
 Justice. 
 
 Natural, as a standard of right 
 and wrong, 26. 
 
 The love of, principle of 
 among unlearned judges, 137, 
 138. 
 
 An illustration of rapid, 137- 
 139. 
 
 when should it sleep? 135, 
 136. 
 
 Justices of Peace, Dialogue on 
 quashing the convictions of, 
 329-332. 
 
 K. 
 
 Knowledge Qualification, the, 
 395. 
 
 L. 
 
 Labour Test, in poor laws, 414, 
 
 415. 
 Language, notices of the history 
 of, 215, 216. 
 
 Rules for using, with clear- 
 ness, 206, 212. 
 
 Transitive and 'Intransitive 
 use of, 205. 
 Landsdowne — Lord. Bentham's 
 connexion with, 357, 358. 
 
 and his Nominees, 3.58- 
 362. 
 Laudation, false, of the dead, 231, 
 
 232. 
 Law, the. Fallacious use of the 
 term, 224. 
 
 Manufacture of, by the English 
 courts, 150-154. 
 Fallacy of the principle, that it 
 has no right to forbid any thing 
 but what is hurtful, 100, 102. 
 Law as it is, and as it is said to 
 be, 145-150. 
 
 Popular prejudices in favour 
 of the, 177. 
 
 Common, public opinion upon 
 a par with, 48. 
 
 See Common law. 
 International, Bentham's opi- 
 nions on, 420-423. 
 of nature, use made of the 
 term, 240. 
 
 of nature as a standard of right 
 and wrong, 26. 
 
 Penal, characteristics of the 
 English, 321-324. 
 of reason as a standard of right 
 and wrong, 26. 
 Law Reform, slow progress of, 
 177, 178. 
 
 Bentham's principles of, 
 400406! 
 
 Cromwell on, 353. 
 Law taxes, 164. 
 
 Laws, prejudices in favour of 
 antiquity with regard to, 
 125. 
 
 Bad. Absurdity of calling them 
 illegal, 251, 252. 
 
489 
 
 Laws, the absurdity of charac- 
 terizing any, as irrevocable, 
 244-246. 
 
 Promulgation of the, 400, 401. 
 Absurdity of saying there are 
 any which the Legislature can- 
 not pass, 246-251. 
 Illustration of the effect of arbi- 
 trarily transferring the, of one 
 country to another, 118-122. 
 'Perfectibility of the, chime- 
 rical, 126-128. 
 Unpromulgated, 140. 
 Lawgiver, The qualifications of 
 
 an enlightened, 117, 118. 
 Lawyers and Law Reform, 177. 
 profiting by their own blun- 
 ders, 171, 172. 
 English and Scottish, 173. 
 Injury to, from Reform, 173, 
 174. 
 
 Witnesses browbeat by, 174. 
 Where is the interest of, in 
 delay limited? 170, 171. 
 Legal jargon, 143, 144. 
 quibbles, 141-143. 
 Sanction, the, explained, 382. 
 Legislation, outline of Bentham's 
 principles of, 382-388. 
 Despotic, spirit of, 70. 
 Legislators, National prejudices 
 
 to be considered by, 122-124. 
 Legislature, Bentham's view of 
 the Constitution of a, 394-400. 
 Power of a supreme, unlimited, 
 117. 
 
 Absurdity of professed limi- 
 tations of the power of the, 
 246-251. 
 Letters, specimens of, 362-370._ 
 Levelling, destruction of all pro- 
 perty, the people not so foolish 
 as to wish for, 110, 111. 
 Libel law, 1 13. 
 Liberality, Fallacious use of the 
 
 term, 204. 
 Liberty, natural, what is? 83,84. 
 That it consists in doing what 
 
 is not hurtful to another, the 
 proposition criticized, 98-10{). 
 that it is imprescriptible, Pal- 
 lacy of, 94-95. 
 
 Lies, the effects of, 389- 
 
 Litigant, a, personally appearing 
 in court, 241. 
 
 Litigations, compromising, 169, 
 
 on the authenticity of Deeds, 
 166, 167. 
 
 Logic, Bentham's opinions on, 426- 
 429. 
 
 Logical Analysis, natural history 
 of, 219-222. 
 
 Lords spiritual, 115, 116. 
 Temporal, 115, 116. 
 Houses of. Bentham's objec- 
 tion to, 397. 
 
 Loughborough, Lord and Benja- 
 min Franklin, 354, 355. 
 
 Louis XIV. religious intolerance 
 of, 31. 
 
 Loyalty, attachment called for in 
 the name of, to whatever is 
 most mischievous and vile, 109. 
 
 Lustre and dignity of the Crown, 
 use of the terms, 202, 203. 
 
 Luxury, effect of, on National 
 power, 201, 202. 
 
 Luxuries, effect of the introduc- 
 tion of, 197. 
 
 Magic, source of belief in, 267- 
 271. 
 
 Magna Charta, denying justice in 
 the teeth of ,145. 
 
 Malevolence, the pleasures of, 44, 
 45. 
 
 Markets, Influence of opening 
 new, 197-199. 
 
 Marriages, plan of a register of, 
 418. 
 
 Marvellous, sources of belief in 
 the, 267-271. 
 
 Masters in chancer^, origin of, 
 162. 
 
 Means, fallacy of saying that the 
 end justifies the, 257, 2-58. 
 
440 
 
 Metaphysics, Bentham's opinions 
 
 on, 426-429. 
 Method, principles of, 222, 223. 
 Military discipline, state of so- 
 ciety which may be improved 
 by, 57, 5a 
 Ministerial panegyrics, 182-184. 
 Mischief of an act, how affected 
 by intention, motive, disposi- 
 tion, &c., 333-337. 
 Monarch, the virtues of a, 68, 69. 
 Monarchs and war, 67, 68. 
 Monarchy, origin and progress of, 
 69-70. 
 
 Voluntary surrenders of, 71. 
 Monopolies, Bentham's opinions 
 on, 425. 
 Colonial, fallacy of, explained, 
 195, 196. 
 Montesquieu, his opinion on the 
 prices that must be paid for jus- 
 lice, 165. 
 Moral delicacy compared with 
 physical, 42, 43. 
 Codes, that of the public and 
 Westminister Hall compared, 
 172, 173. 
 
 Improbability and Impossibility 
 distinguished from physical 265, 
 266. 
 
 Sanction, the explained, 382. 
 sense as a standard of right 
 and wrong, 25. 
 Morals, outline of Bentham's prin 
 
 ciples of, 382-38g. 
 Morality, the, of Westminster 
 Hall, 172, 173. 
 
 Operation of the sanctions in 
 favour of, 40-42. 
 Mother Church, uses made of the 
 
 term, 226. 
 Motive, how it affects the mis- 
 chievousness of an act, 333-337. 
 Motives, the, connected with sym- 
 pathy and antipathy, 43-45. 
 Multitude, inquiry if they are pre- 
 judiced against property and 
 family, 82, 83. 
 
 N. 
 
 Nations, law of Bentham's princi- 
 ples of, 420-423. 
 
 National Debt, the effect of a 
 sponge on the, 81, 82, 
 
 National education, 416. 
 jealousies, 63, 64. 
 
 Natural Justice as a standard of 
 right and wrong, 26. 
 History and philosophy, criti. 
 cism on the terms, 218, 2l9r 
 liberty, what is? 83, 84. 
 and imprescriptible rights, fal- 
 lacy atid mischief of the ex- 
 pression, 89-98. 
 Equity as a standard of right 
 and wrong, 26. 
 
 Nature, Law of, as a standard of 
 right and wrong, 26. 
 
 Non-disappointment principle, Ex- 
 planation of the, 385, 386, 
 
 Norman-French, remarks on the 
 use of, in law, 173. 
 
 Nouns, irregular. History of, 215, 
 216. 
 
 O. 
 
 Oaths— ^Judicial, inquiry into th^ 
 utility of; 286-292. 
 Jurymen's, the utility of, exa- 
 mined, 293, 294. 
 University, 285, 286. 
 Void. Fallacy in the idea of, 
 292-293. 
 Obedience, habit of, the origin of 
 
 government, 240-244. 
 Obscurity distinguished from am- 
 biguity, 205, 206. 
 Offences against property, effects 
 of, in different countries, 121, 
 122. 
 
 How the mischievousness of, 
 is affected by intention, mo- 
 tive, &c., 333-337. 
 Admeasurement of punishment 
 to, 409. 
 
 Rules for estimating the dan- 
 ger from, 332, 333. 
 
441 
 
 Offences, semi-public, effects of, in 
 different countries, 120, 121. 
 
 Offender, the character of, infer- 
 red from the offence, 337-339. 
 
 Offenders, reasons for a public 
 prosecutor of, 327, 328. 
 
 Office, mutual panegyrics of men 
 in, 182-184, 
 
 Offices, Value of irresponsible 
 patronage of, 188, 189. 
 How to make and fill, 187. 
 
 Official character. The, 181, 182. 
 Salaries, as the subject of com- 
 petition, 186, 187. 
 Salaries — High, comment on, 
 184, 185. 
 
 Official Sloth, effects of, 189, 190. 
 Self-compli)cency, 179-181. 
 
 "One thing at a time," fallacious 
 use of the recommendation, 253, 
 254. 
 
 Opinion, subscription to matters 
 of, 280, 286, 294, 295. 
 Public, 48, 49. 
 Influence of power on, 49. 
 
 Oppression, resistance to, impre- 
 scriptible right of, criticized, 
 97, 98. 
 
 Opulence, the source of national 
 power, 201, 202. 
 
 " Or," ambiguity of the Preposi- 
 tion, 212-214. 
 
 Oratory, corruptive use made of 
 the faculty of, 179. 
 
 Order, good as a standard of right 
 and wrong, 26. 
 Principles of, 222, 223. 
 
 Ordinals, ambiguity in the use of, 
 209. 
 
 Originality, value of, 217. 
 
 Original Contract, theory of the, 
 criticized, 24l.'-244, 260. 
 
 Outlawry, as a punishment, 350, 
 351. 
 
 Oxford, subscription and oaths at, 
 281-286. p 
 
 Panegyrics, ministerial, 182-184. 
 
 Panopticon Penitentiary, the 
 
 Principles of the, 412, 418. 
 
 Parliament, advantages of the me- 
 thod of proceeding in the Bri- 
 tish, illustrated, 129-133. 
 Strict attendance in, 396. 
 The practice of, admired by 
 Bentham, 397. 
 Judges in, 133-135. 
 
 Parliamentary procedure, the 
 forms of, 128, 129. 
 
 Parliamentary Reform, Ben- 
 tham's Principles of, 394-400. 
 
 Patents for Inventions, proper 
 principles of, 192, 193, 424. 
 
 Patronage, irreponsible — value of, 
 188, 189. 
 
 Pecuniary punishments in Anglo- 
 Saxon law, 341, 342. 
 
 Peel, Sir Robert, noticed, 188. 
 
 Penal Law, Outline of Bentham's 
 opinions on, 406-414. 
 
 Characteristics of the Eng- 
 lish, 321-324. 
 
 People, the — Charges against, of 
 designing the subversion of pro- 
 perty, 71, 72. 
 
 On attributing defects in 
 the law to the barbarousness of, 
 124-126. 
 
 The source of Legislative 
 power, 395. 
 
 Apathy of, to legal abuses, 
 178, 179. 
 
 Perjury, exculpative. Rarity of, 
 295, 296. 
 
 in the English Universities, 
 281-286. 
 The punishment of, 289. 
 
 Perpetual imprisonment, its ef- 
 fect, compared with the punish- 
 ment of death, 342, 343. 
 
 Personal Reponsibility, Ben- 
 tham's principles of, 398, 399. 
 
 Persuasion, strength of, in con- 
 nexion with the causes of be- 
 lief, 261, 262. 
 
 Philip V. of Spain, noticed, 71. 
 
 Philosophy, natural. Criticism 
 on the term, 218, 219. 
 
 Physical and moral delicacy com- 
 pared, 42, 43. 
 
442 
 
 Physical improbability and impos- 
 sibility distinguished from Mo- 
 ral, 265, 266. 
 Sanction, the, explained, 362. 
 
 Pitt (the first Lord Chatham) no- 
 ticed, 282. 
 
 William, (the younger,) no- 
 ticed, 190, 357, 415. 
 
 Pleading-, how to extract a simple 
 system of, 164. 
 
 Pleasure, the general pursuit of, 
 376-381. 
 
 Politeness, rules of, 56. 
 
 Political Economy, Bentham's opi- 
 nions on, 423-426. 
 Institutions, free inquiry into 
 236-239. 
 Sanction, the, explained, 382. 
 
 Politicians, jobbing, 179. 
 
 Poor Laws, Bentham's opinions 
 on, 414-416. 
 
 Fallacious projects in con- 
 nexion with, 190-192. 
 
 Popular applause, 53. 
 
 Injustice, charges of, 55, 56. 
 prejudices in favour of the 
 Law, 177. 
 
 Post-Office, Bentham's views as 
 to a, 420. 
 
 Power, influence of, on opinion, 
 49. 
 
 National. Relation of Luxury 
 to, 201, 202. 
 
 Practice, the habit of contrasting 
 it with Theory, 233, 234. 
 
 Prejudices, national, to be consi- 
 dered by legislators, 122-124. 
 
 Premeditation, indication of a 
 dangerous character from, 338. 
 
 Press, Bentham's opinions on the, 
 420. 
 
 Presumption of those who do not 
 thinlf for themselves, 217, 218. 
 
 Priests alarmed at innovation, 52. 
 
 Priestcraft, method of exercising 
 the influence^of, 224-228. 
 
 Priestley, Dr., noticed, 126. 
 
 Prisons as schools of vice, 347. 
 Contamination in, 348. 
 
 Prison Discipline, Bentham's prin- 
 ciples of, 412, 413. 
 
 Procedure, judicial — Bentham's 
 opinions on, 405, 406. 
 Parliamentary, the forms of, 
 128, 129. 
 
 Profits, national. Mistaltes as to, 
 200. 
 
 Prolixity distinfuished from re- 
 dundancy, 216. 
 
 Promulgation of the Laws, 400, 
 401. 
 
 Property, the foundation of, 385. 
 Anticipated effects of a general 
 equalization of, 73-81. Proper- 
 ty and sources of livelihood that 
 would be destroyed, 73-78. Im- 
 possibility of counteracting the 
 circumstances which cause in- 
 equality, 78, 79. Perpetual di- 
 visions with the alteration in 
 population, 79, 80. Increase of ' 
 idleness and dissipation, 80, 
 81. 
 
 Charges against the people of 
 designing the subversion of, 
 rebutted, 71,72. 
 Fallacious use of the term, 
 224. 
 
 and family, are the multitude 
 prejudiced against I 82, 83. 
 Is it the security for attach- 
 ment to country? 83. 
 Ofifences against, effects of, in 
 diflferent countries, 121, 122. 
 The declaration of an impre- 
 scriptible right of, criticized, 
 95,96. 
 
 Persecution, religious. Effect of, 
 294, 295. 
 
 Prosecutor, public. Reasons for 
 a, 327-328, 404. 
 
 Prosperity of the country, addu- 
 cing the, as an argument 
 against reform, 111-113. 
 
 Public, the rights of — Individual 
 rights identified with, 254, 
 255. 
 Opinion, 48, 49. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 443 
 
 Publicity in courts of justice, 139, 
 
 140. 
 Puffendorf noticed, 107. 
 Punishment by disgrace, the divi- 
 sions of, 343-345. 
 Outline of Bentham's opinions 
 on, 406-414. 
 
 Of Death, when safely resorted 
 to, 343. 
 
 Q. 
 
 Question, begging the, 223, 235- 
 
 236. 
 Quibbles,. legal, 241-243. 
 
 R. 
 
 Radical Reform, 111. 
 
 Rank as evidence against a cri- 
 minal charge, 315-317. 
 
 Rationale, a series of reasons ac- 
 companying laws, 403. 
 
 Reason, right, as a standard of 
 right and wrong, 26. 
 Law of, as a standard of right 
 and wrong, 26. 
 
 Unequal contest between, and 
 sinister interest, 53. 
 
 Reasoning, false — The mind debi- 
 litated by, 234, 235. 
 
 Redundancy distinguished from 
 prolixity, 216. 
 
 Reform, gradual — Fallacies in 
 support of, 253, 254. 
 Parliamentary, Bentham's opi- 
 nions on, 394-400. 
 Radical, 111. 
 
 Adducing the prosperity of the 
 country as an argument against, 
 111-113. 
 
 Reeistration, Bentham's plans 
 of General, 418. 
 
 Regulations for procedure in Le- 
 gislative assemblies, 129-133. 
 Motion written, and in termi- 
 nis, 129-131. Unity of the sub- 
 ject of debate kept inviolate. 
 
 131, 132^ The process of de- 
 bating distinct from, and prior 
 to thatofvoting, 132, 133. 
 
 Relipf, pauper — Fallacious prin- 
 ciples of, 190-192. 
 
 Religion, strength of, as a motive, 
 332. 
 
 Religious establishments, false- 
 hood inculcated by, 390, 391. 
 Intolerance, 31. 
 Sanction, The, explained, 382. 
 Tests, 280, 281. 
 
 Republic, civil war in, 70, 71. 
 
 Respect towards superiors disre- 
 garded. Character of an offen- 
 der inferred from, 338. 
 
 Responsibility, Personal — Ben- 
 . tham's opinions on, 397-399. 
 
 Reward, the inefBcacy of, to re- 
 strain from crime, 341. 
 and Service, measure between, 
 186. 
 
 Right, Rule of, 26. 
 
 and Wrong, Various standards 
 of, 25-29. 
 
 Reason as a standard of right 
 and wrong, 25. 
 
 Right, the word, cannot have a 
 meaning without reference to 
 utility, 30. 
 
 That all men are borne equal 
 in, fallacy of, 86-87. 
 Specimens of a criticism on 
 the French Declaration of, 84- 
 104. 
 
 Rolls, Master of the— Origin of, 
 162. 
 
 Rome, Church of— Absolution in, 
 50, 
 
 Romilly, Sir Samuel, noticed, xvi. 
 83. 
 
 Rose, Sir George, 200. 
 
 Rousseau noticed, 224. 
 
 Salaries as the subject of competi- 
 tion, 186, 187. 
 
444 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Salaries, High, Comments on, 
 184, 185. 
 
 Sanatory Regulations, Principles 
 of, 419. 
 
 Sanctions, Bentham's classifica- 
 tion of the, illustrated, 40, 41, 
 382. The physical, 40. Social, 
 41. Popular, ib. Legal, ib. 
 Religious, ib. 
 
 Sanderson, Bishop, noticed, 283. 
 
 Savings Banks, Bentham's sug- 
 gestions for, 419. 
 
 Schools. See Education. 
 
 of vice — Prisons why so called, 
 347. 
 
 Scientific evidence, 303, 304. 
 
 Scottish lawyers,and English, 173. 
 
 Secret information, — Prejudices 
 against, 326, 327. 
 
 Security as an object of the law, 
 384. 
 
 Imprescriptible right of, criti- 
 cized, 96, 97. 
 
 Sedition, the word, not to be found 
 in law, 113, 114. 
 
 Self-complacency, Official, 179- 
 181. 
 
 Self-restraint, 42. 
 
 Selfish system, Features in Ben- 
 tham's philosophy which occa- 
 sioned the application of the 
 term, 378-381. 
 
 Sense, Common, as a standard of 
 right and wrong, 25. 
 Moral, as a standard of right 
 and wrong, 25. 
 
 Sensibility, circumstances which 
 influence, 344, 345. 
 
 Sepoys, improved by military dis- 
 cipline, .57. 
 
 Service and reward, measure be- 
 tween, 186. 
 
 Shakspeare, noticed, 107. 
 
 Shelburne party, Bentham's opin- 
 ion of the, 360. 
 Lord. See Lansdowne. 
 
 Silence as evidence of guilt, 319- 
 321. 
 
 Sinecurists alarmed at innovation, 
 52. 
 
 Sloth, Official. Effects of, 189-190. 
 Social compact, Theory of the, 
 
 critized, 240-244. 
 
 distinctions. Fallacy in the 
 
 French Declaration of Rights 
 
 as to, 87-89. 
 Solon, the laws of, 124, 125. 
 Sophisms, Recommendation to 
 
 avoid, 279, 280. 
 Species, Origin of the notion of, 
 
 221, 222. 
 Spectres, Imperfection of the evi- 
 dence for the appearance of, 
 
 271, 272. 
 Speculative, the word, used as a 
 
 term of reproach, 232, 233. 
 Spendthrifts, Prejudices in favour 
 
 of, 54, 55. 
 Spiritual, Lords, 115, 116. 
 Standards, Various, of right and 
 
 wrong, 25-29. 
 Statesmen, Self-complacency of, 
 
 179, 181, 182, 184. 
 Statute law, Principles of reform 
 
 in the, 401, 402. 
 Statutes, Drawing of, 216. 
 Subscription at the English Uni- 
 versities, 281-285. 
 Subsistence as an object of the 
 
 law, 384. 
 Substantives, Rules for the clear 
 
 use of, 206. 
 
 Verbal. Employment of, 210, 
 
 211. 
 Succession, Proper regulating 
 
 principle of, 387, 388. 
 Suffrage, Bentham's opinions on 
 
 the, 394.396. 
 Suitors, Exclusion of, from courts 
 
 of justice, 140, 141. 
 Supernatural, source of belief in 
 
 the, 267-271. 
 Supernatural appearances, imper- 
 fection of the evidence for, 271, 
 
 272. 
 Superstition, source of, 267-271. 
 Supreme Legislature, Absurdity 
 
 of professing to limit the power 
 
 ofa, 117, 246-25L 
 
U3 
 
 Sympathy and antipathy, the mo- 
 tives connected with, 4345. 
 
 T. 
 
 Taxation, Proper principles of, 
 386. 
 Fallacies as to, 200. 
 
 Temple, Sir William, noticed, 64. 
 
 Temporal, tiords, 115, 116. 
 
 Temptation, Bearing of the 
 strength o^ on the danger of an 
 offence, 332. 
 
 Terrorism, Bribery a virtue in 
 comparison with, 115. 
 
 Tests, Religious, 280,281. 
 
 Testimony, Foundation of belief 
 in, 274-279. 
 
 The rules rejecting particular 
 kinds of, 304313. 
 The policy of applying the 
 sanction of an oath to, exam- 
 ined, 286-292. 
 jSee Evidence. 
 
 Theft, no statute law to tell what 
 it is, 149. 
 
 Theoretical, used as a term of re- 
 proach, 232, 233. 
 
 Theory, the habit of contrasting it 
 with practice, 233, 234. 
 
 Thieves, Honour among, 340, 341. 
 
 Things, Fitness of, as a standard 
 of right and wrong, 26. 
 
 Thought and Language, Connex- 
 ion between, 205. 
 
 Trade, Bentham's opinions on, 
 423-426. 
 
 Free, Bentham's opinions on, 
 423. 
 
 coextensive with capital, 198- 
 200. 
 Wars for conquest or, 65-67. 
 
 Training children, Utility of a 
 proper system of, 413. 
 
 Treaty, Advantages of a disarm- 
 ing, 59-63. 
 
 Trials, Criminal — Dramatic inte- 
 rest of, 321. 
 38 
 
 Truth, the source of, 260. 
 
 Sketch of the wanderings of a 
 mind in search of, 259, 260. 
 
 The importance of, 339. 
 
 Bentham's principles of, 388- 
 394. 
 
 to be followed in argument, 
 279, 380. 
 
 •Indolence a motive in favour 
 of, 280. 
 Truth more natural to mankind 
 than falsehood, 278, 279. 
 
 U. 
 
 Unanimity in juries, 175, 176. 
 
 Understanding as a standard of 
 right and wrong, 26. 
 
 Union of England and Scotland 
 taken advantage of by Jhe 
 Church, 228-230. 
 
 University oaths, 285, 286. 
 
 Universities, Subscription at the, 
 281-285. 
 
 Use, Arguing from, to the abuse — 
 Fallacies in speaking of, 257. 
 
 Usury Laws, Bentham's opinions 
 on, 424. 
 
 Effects of, in different coun- 
 tries, 122. 
 
 Utility, Bentham's use of the 
 term, 373. 
 
 as a standard of right and 
 wrong, 26. 
 
 an Opponent of the principle 
 of, 29-31. 
 
 Utopian, visionary, &c., the an- 
 swer whenever any thing good 
 is proposed, 109, 110. 
 
 V. 
 
 Veracity, Indolence a motive in 
 
 favour of, 280. 
 Verbs, Irregular. History of, 215, 
 
 216. 
 
446 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Verbal, contradictions distinguish- 
 ed from impossibilities, 263- 
 265. 
 substantives, Use of, 110, 111. 
 
 Vested rights, proper principle of, 
 286. 
 
 Voltaire noticed , 215. 
 
 Voting, Bentham'a principles of, 
 396-399. 
 
 The process of debating should 
 be distinct from, and prior to, 
 in legislatures, 132, 133. 
 
 W. 
 
 Wages, Fallacious attempts to 
 irnplement, by pauper relief, 
 190-192. 
 
 War, Bentham's opinions on, 420- 
 423. 
 
 Ifiterests conducive to, 58, 59. 
 Effects of a European, 59-63. 
 Monarchs and, 67, 68. 
 
 Wars for conquest or trade, 65- 
 67. 
 
 Watson, Sir Brooke — Illustration 
 from, 174. 
 
 Weakness, Character of an offen- 
 der inferred from oppression of, 
 337. 
 
 Wealth, the sources of, 423. 
 Ratio of, to happiness, 46-48. 
 as evidence in criminal charges, 
 315-317. 
 
 Westminster Hall, the morality 
 of, 172, 173.^ 
 
 "What's at the bottom," Falla- 
 cious use of the expression, 255, 
 256. 
 
 Wife, the rule rejecting her testi- 
 mony against her husband, 307- 
 310. 
 
 Wilkes, John, noticed, 352. 
 
 Wisdom of our ancestors, 230. 
 
 Witchcraft, source of belief in, 
 267. 
 
 Witnesses, Browbeating, 174. 
 Inquiry into the utility of swear- 
 ing, 286-292. 
 See Evidence : Oath. 
 
 Words, the influence of, 235- 
 236. 
 Familiar, misunderstood, 214. 
 
 Wrong, right and — various stan- 
 dards of, 25-29. 
 
 Zinzendorf, Count, noticed, 185. 
 
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 uMBl^iim The TncidehtB which .took elace in, ttie naHi»l war wit* Trip^lr. are 
 iwTnder »nd more heroic rtian ..By thing m the eiiwle of rooMnea^ «fld are 4«f «M 
 ■With aJI t*«»»gnu' and anjaiatioll of Mr.Caopn'l «enius.">-Artlu& AJNMtwHl 
 
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 i Benthamiana or Select extracts from the 
 
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