No More Learning

But while she thus rendered me bolder in
speculation on human affairs, her practical turn of mind, and her almost
unerring estimate of practical obstacles, repressed in me all tendencies
that were really visionary. Her mind invested all ideas in a concrete
shape, and formed to itself a conception of how they would actually
work: and her knowledge of the existing feelings and conduct of mankind
was so seldom at fault, that the weak point in any unworkable suggestion
seldom escapes her. [6]

During the two years which immediately preceded the cessation of my
official life, my wife and I were working together at the "Liberty. "
I had first planned and written it as a short essay in 1854. It was in
mounting the steps of the Capitol, in January, 1855, that the thought
first arose of converting it into a volume. None of my writings have
been either so carefully composed, or so sedulously corrected as this.
After it had been written as usual twice over, we kept it by us,
bringing it out from time to time, and going through it _de novo_,
reading, weighing, and criticizing every sentence. Its final revision
was to have been a work of the winter of 1858-9, the first after my
retirement, which we had arranged to pass in the south of Europe. That
hope and every other were frustrated by the most unexpected and bitter
calamity of her death--at Avignon, on our way to Montpellier, from a
sudden attack of pulmonary congestion.

Since then I have sought for such allevation as my state
admitted of, by the mode of life which most enabled me to feel her still
near me. I bought a cottage as close as possible to the place where she
is buried, and there her daughter (my fellow-sufferer and now my chief
comfort) and I, live constantly during a great portion of the year. My
objects in life are solely those which were hers; my pursuits and
occupations those in which she shared, or sympathized, and which are
indissolubly associated with her. Her memory is to me a religion, and
her approbation the standard by which, summing up as it does all
worthiness, I endeavour to regulate my life.

After my irreparable loss, one of my earliest cares was to print and
publish the treatise, so much of which was the work of her whom I had
lost, and consecrate it to her memory. I have made no alteration or
addition to it, nor shall I ever. Though it wants the last touch of her
hand, no substitute for that touch shall ever be attempted by mine.

The _Liberty_ was more directly and literally our joint production than
anything else which bears my name, for there was not a sentence of it
that was not several times gone through by us together, turned over in
many ways, and carefully weeded of any faults, either in thought or
expression, that we detected in it. It is in consequence of this that,
although it never underwent her final revision, it far surpasses, as a
mere specimen of composition, anything which has proceeded from me
either before or since. With regard to the thoughts, it is difficult to
identify any particular part or element as being more hers than all the
rest. The whole mode of thinking of which the book was the expression,
was emphatically hers. But I also was so thoroughly imbued with it, that
the same thoughts naturally occurred to us both. That I was thus
penetrated with it, however, I owe in a great degree to her. There was a
moment in my mental progress when I might easily have fallen into a
tendency towards over-government, both social and political; as there
was also a moment when, by reaction from a contrary excess, I might have
become a less thorough radical and democrat than I am. In both these
points, as in many others, she benefited me as much by keeping me right
where I was right, as by leading me to new truths, and ridding me of
errors. My great readiness and eagerness to learn from everybody, and to
make room in my opinions for every new acquisition by adjusting the old
and the new to one another, might, but for her steadying influence, have
seduced me into modifying my early opinions too much. She was in nothing
more valuable to my mental development than by her just measure of the
relative importance of different considerations, which often protected
me from allowing to truths I had only recently learnt to see, a more
important place in my thoughts than was properly their due.

The _Liberty_ is likely to survive longer than anything else that I have
written (with the possible exception of the _Logic_), because the
conjunction of her mind with mine has rendered it a kind of philosophic
text-book of a single truth, which the changes progressively taking
place in modern society tend to bring out into ever stronger relief: the
importance, to man and society of a large variety in types of character,
and of giving full freedom to human nature to expand itself in
innumerable and conflicting directions. Nothing can better show how deep
are the foundations of this truth, than the great impression made by the
exposition of it at a time which, to superficial observation, did not
seem to stand much in need of such a lesson. The fears we expressed,
lest the inevitable growth of social equality and of the government of
public opinion, should impose on mankind an oppressive yoke of
uniformity in opinion and practice, might easily have appeared
chimerical to those who looked more at present facts than at tendencies;
for the gradual revolution that is taking place in society and
institutions has, thus far, been decidedly favourable to the development
of new opinions, and has procured for them a much more unprejudiced
hearing than they previously met with. But this is a feature belonging
to periods of transition, when old notions and feelings have been
unsettled, and no new doctrines have yet succeeded to their ascendancy.
At such times people of any mental activity, having given up their old
beliefs, and not feeling quite sure that those they still retain can
stand unmodified, listen eagerly to new opinions. But this state of
things is necessarily transitory: some particular body of doctrine in
time rallies the majority round it, organizes social institutions and
modes of action conformably to itself, education impresses this new
creed upon the new generations without the mental processes that have
led to it, and by degrees it acquires the very same power of
compression, so long exercised by the creeds of which it had taken the
place. Whether this noxious power will be exercised, depends on whether
mankind have by that time become aware that it cannot be exercised
without stunting and dwarfing human nature. It is then that the
teachings of the _Liberty_ will have their greatest value. And it is to
be feared that they will retain that value a long time.

As regards originality, it has of course no other than that which every
thoughtful mind gives to its own mode of conceiving and expressing
truths which are common property. The leading thought of the book is one
which though in many ages confined to insulated thinkers, mankind have
probably at no time since the beginning of civilization been entirely
without. To speak only of the last few generations, it is distinctly
contained in the vein of important thought respecting education and
culture, spread through the European mind by the labours and genius of
Pestalozzi. The unqualified championship of it by Wilhelm von Humboldt
is referred to in the book; but he by no means stood alone in his own
country. During the early part of the present century the doctrine of
the rights of individuality, and the claim of the moral nature to
develop itself in its own way, was pushed by a whole school of German
authors even to exaggeration; and the writings of Goethe, the most
celebrated of all German authors, though not belonging to that or to any
other school, are penetrated throughout by views of morals and of
conduct in life, often in my opinion not defensible, but which are
incessantly seeking whatever defence they admit of in the theory of the
right and duty of self-development. In our own country before the book
_On Liberty_ was written, the doctrine of Individuality had been
enthusiastically asserted, in a style of vigorous declamation sometimes
reminding one of Fichte, by Mr. William Maccall, in a series of writings
of which the most elaborate is entitled _Elements of Individualism_: and
a remarkable American, Mr. Warren, had framed a System of Society, on
the foundation of _the Sovereignty of the individual_, had obtained a
number of followers, and had actually commenced the formation of a
Village Community (whether it now exists I know not), which, though
bearing a superficial resemblance to some of the projects of Socialists,
is diametrically opposite to them in principle, since it recognizes no
authority whatever in Society over the individual, except to enforce
equal freedom of development for all individualities. As the book which
bears my name claimed no originality for any of its doctrines, and was
not intended to write their history, the only author who had preceded me
in their assertion, of whom I thought it appropriate to say anything,
was Humboldt, who furnished the motto to the work; although in one
passage I borrowed from the Warrenites their phrase, the sovereignty of
the individual. It is hardly necessary here to remark that there are
abundant differences in detail, between the conception of the doctrine
by any of the predecessors I have mentioned, and that set forth in the
book.

The political circumstances of the time induced me, shortly after, to
complete and publish a pamphlet (_Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform_),
part of which had been written some years previously on the occasion of
one of the abortive Reform Bills, and had at the time been approved and
revised by her. Its principal features were, hostility to the Ballot (a
change of opinion in both of us, in which she rather preceded me), and a
claim of representation for minorities; not, however, at that time going
beyond the cumulative vote proposed by Mr. Garth Marshall. In finishing
the pamphlet for publication, with a view to the discussions on the
Reform Bill of Lord Derby's and Mr. Disraeli's Government in 1859, I
added a third feature, a plurality of votes, to be given, not to
property, but to proved superiority of education. This recommended
itself to me as a means of reconciling the irresistible claim of every
man or woman to be consulted, and to be allowed a voice, in the
regulation of affairs which vitally concern them, with the superiority
of weight justly due to opinions grounded on superiority of knowledge.
The suggestion, however, was one which I had never discussed with my
almost infallible counsellor, and I have no evidence that she would have
concurred in it. As far as I have been able to observe, it has found
favour with nobody; all who desire any sort of inequality in the
electoral vote, desiring it in favour of property and not of
intelligence or knowledge. If it ever overcomes the strong feeling which
exists against it, this will only be after the establishment of a
systematic National Education by which the various grades of politically
valuable acquirement may be accurately defined and authenticated.
Without this it will always remain liable to strong, possibly
conclusive, objections; and with this, it would perhaps not be needed.

It was soon after the publication of _Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform_,
that I became acquainted with Mr. Hare's admirable system of Personal
Representation, which, in its present shape, was then for the first time
published. I saw in this great practical and philosophical idea, the
greatest improvement of which the system of representative government is
susceptible; an improvement which, in the most felicitous manner,
exactly meets and cures the grand, and what before seemed the inherent,
defect of the representative system; that of giving to a numerical
majority all power, instead of only a power proportional to its numbers,
and enabling the strongest party to exclude all weaker parties from
making their opinions heard in the assembly of the nation, except
through such opportunity as may be given to them by the accidentally
unequal distribution of opinions in different localities. To these great
evils nothing more than very imperfect palliations had seemed possible;
but Mr. Hare's system affords a radical cure. This great discovery, for
it is no less, in the political art, inspired me, as I believe it has
inspired all thoughtful persons who have adopted it, with new and more
sanguine hopes respecting the prospects of human society; by freeing the
form of political institutions towards which the whole civilized world
is manifestly and irresistibly tending, from the chief part of what
seemed to qualify, or render doubtful, its ultimate benefits.
Minorities, so long as they remain minorities, are, and ought to be,
outvoted; but under arrangements which enable any assemblage of voters,
amounting to a certain number, to place in the legislature a
representative of its own choice, minorities cannot be suppressed.
Independent opinions will force their way into the council of the nation
and make themselves heard there, a thing which often cannot happen in
the existing forms of representative democracy; and the legislature,
instead of being weeded of individual peculiarities and entirely made up
of men who simply represent the creed of great political or religious
parties, will comprise a large proportion of the most eminent individual
minds in the country, placed there, without reference to party, by
voters who appreciate their individual eminence. I can understand that
persons, otherwise intelligent, should, for want of sufficient
examination, be repelled from Mr. Hare's plan by what they think the
complex nature of its machinery. But any one who does not feel the want
which the scheme is intended to supply; any one who throws it over as a
mere theoretical subtlety or crotchet, tending to no valuable purpose,
and unworthy of the attention of practical men, may be pronounced an
incompetent statesman, unequal to the politics of the future. I mean,
unless he is a minister or aspires to become one: for we are quite
accustomed to a minister continuing to profess unqualified hostility to
an improvement almost to the very day when his conscience or his
interest induces him to take it up as a public measure, and carry it.

Had I met with Mr. Hare's system before the publication of my pamphlet,
I should have given an account of it there. Not having done so, I wrote
an article in _Fraser's Magazine_ (reprinted in my miscellaneous
writings) principally for that purpose, though I included in it, along
with Mr. Hare's book, a review of two other productions on the question
of the day; one of them a pamphlet by my early friend, Mr. John Austin,
who had in his old age become an enemy to all further Parliamentary
reform; the other an able and vigourous, though partially erroneous,
work by Mr. Lorimer.

In the course of the same summer I fulfilled a duty particularly
incumbent upon me, that of helping (by an article in the _Edinburgh
Review_) to make known Mr. Bain's profound treatise on the Mind, just
then completed by the publication of its second volume. And I carried
through the press a selection of my minor writings, forming the first
two volumes of _Dissertations and Discussions_. The selection had been
made during my wife's lifetime, but the revision, in concert with her,
with a view to republication, had been barely commenced; and when I had
no longer the guidance of her judgment I despaired of pursuing it
further, and republished the papers as they were, with the exception of
striking out such passages as were no longer in accordance with my
opinions. My literary work of the year was terminated with an essay in
_Fraser's Magazine_ (afterwards republished in the third volume of
_Dissertations and Discussions_), entitled "A Few Words on
Non-Intervention. " I was prompted to write this paper by a desire, while
vindicating England from the imputations commonly brought against her on
the Continent, of a peculiar selfishness in matters of foreign policy to
warn Englishmen of the colour given to this imputation by the low tone
in which English statesmen are accustomed to speak of English policy as
concerned only with English interests, and by the conduct of Lord
Palmerston at that particular time in opposing the Suez Canal; and I
took the opportunity of expressing ideas which had long been in my mind
(some of them generated by my Indian experience, and others by the
international questions which then greatly occupied the European
public), respecting the true principles of international morality, and
the legitimate modifications made in it by difference of times and
circumstances; a subject I had already, to some extent, discussed in the
vindication of the French Provisional Government of 1848 against the
attacks of Lord Brougham and others, which I published at the time in
the _Westminster Review_, and which is reprinted in the _Dissertations_.

I had now settled, as I believed, for the remainder of my existence into
a purely literary life; if that can be called literary which continued
to be occupied in a pre-eminent degree with politics, and not merely
with theoretical, but practical politics, although a great part of the
year was spent at a distance of many hundred miles from the chief seat
of the politics of my own country, to which, and primarily for which, I
wrote. But, in truth, the modern facilities of communication have not
only removed all the disadvantages, to a political writer in tolerably
easy circumstances, of distance from the scene of political action, but
have converted them into advantages. The immediate and regular receipt
of newspapers and periodicals keeps him _au courant_ of even the most
temporary politics, and gives him a much more correct view of the state
and progress of opinion than he could acquire by personal contact with
individuals: for every one's social intercourse is more or less limited
to particular sets or classes, whose impressions and no others reach him
through that channel; and experience has taught me that those who give
their time to the absorbing claims of what is called society, not having
leisure to keep up a large acquaintance with the organs of opinion,
remain much more ignorant of the general state either of the public
mind, or of the active and instructed part of it, than a recluse who
reads the newspapers need be. There are, no doubt, disadvantages in too
long a separation from one's country--in not occasionally renewing
one's impressions of the light in which men and things appear when seen
from a position in the midst of them; but the deliberate judgment formed
at a distance, and undisturbed by inequalities of perspective, is the
most to be depended on, even for application to practice. Alternating
between the two positions, I combined the advantages of both. And,
though the inspirer of my best thoughts was no longer with me, I was not
alone: she had left a daughter, my stepdaughter, [Miss Helen Taylor, the
inheritor of much of her wisdom, and of all her nobleness of character,]
whose ever growing and ripening talents from that day to this have been
devoted to the same great purposes [and have already made her name
better and more widely known than was that of her mother, though far
less so than I predict, that if she lives it is destined to become. Of
the value of her direct cooperation with me, something will be said
hereafter, of what I owe in the way of instruction to her great powers
of original thought and soundness of practical judgment, it would be a
vain attempt to give an adequate idea]. Surely no one ever before was so
fortunate, as, after such a loss as mine, to draw another prize in the
lottery of life [--another companion, stimulator, adviser, and
instructor of the rarest quality]. Whoever, either now or hereafter, may
think of me and of the work I have done, must never forget that it is
the product not of one intellect and conscience, but of three[, the
least considerable of whom, and above all the least original, is the one
whose name is attached to it].

The work of the years 1860 and 1861 consisted chiefly of two treatises,
only one of which was intended for immediate publication. This was the
_Considerations on Representative Government_; a connected exposition of
what, by the thoughts of many years, I had come to regard as the best
form of a popular constitution. Along with as much of the general theory
of government as is necessary to support this particular portion of its
practice, the volume contains many matured views of the principal
questions which occupy the present age, within the province of purely
organic institutions, and raises, by anticipation, some other questions
to which growing necessities will sooner or later compel the attention
both of theoretical and of practical politicians. The chief of these
last, is the distinction between the function of making laws, for which
a numerous popular assembly is radically unfit, and that of getting good
laws made, which is its proper duty and cannot be satisfactorily
fulfilled by any other authority: and the consequent need of a
Legislative Commission, as a permanent part of the constitution of a
free country; consisting of a small number of highly trained political
minds, on whom, when Parliament has determined that a law shall be made,
the task of making it should be devolved: Parliament retaining the power
of passing or rejecting the bill when drawn up, but not of altering it
otherwise than by sending proposed amendments to be dealt with by the
Commission. The question here raised respecting the most important of
all public functions, that of legislation, is a particular case of the
great problem of modern political organization, stated, I believe, for
the first time in its full extent by Bentham, though in my opinion not
always satisfactorily resolved by him; the combination of complete
popular control over public affairs, with the greatest attainable
perfection of skilled agency.

The other treatise written at this time is the one which was published
some years[7] later under the title of _The Subjection of Women. _ It was
written [at my daughter's suggestion] that there might, in any event, be
in existence a written exposition of my opinions on that great question,
as full and conclusive as I could make it. The intention was to keep
this among other unpublished papers, improving it from time to time if I
was able, and to publish it at the time when it should seem likely to be
most useful. As ultimately published [it was enriched with some
important ideas of my daughter's, and passages of her writing. But] in
what was of my own composition, all that is most striking and profound
belongs to my wife; coming from the fund of thought which had been made
common to us both, by our innumerable conversations and discussions on a
topic which filled so large a place in our minds.

Soon after this time I took from their repository a portion of the
unpublished papers which I had written during the last years of our
married life, and shaped them, with some additional matter, into the
little work entitled _Utilitarianism_; which was first published, in
three parts, in successive numbers of _Fraser's Magazine_, and
afterwards reprinted in a volume.

Before this, however, the state of public affairs had become extremely
critical, by the commencement of the American civil war. My strongest
feelings were engaged in this struggle, which, I felt from the
beginning, was destined to be a turning point, for good or evil, of the
course of human affairs for an indefinite duration. Having been a deeply
interested observer of the slavery quarrel in America, during the many
years that preceded the open breach, I knew that it was in all its
stages an aggressive enterprise of the slave-owners to extend the
territory of slavery; under the combined influences of pecuniary
interest, domineering temper, and the fanaticism of a class for its
class privileges, influences so fully and powerfully depicted in the
admirable work of my friend Professor Cairnes, _The Slave Power_. Their
success, if they succeeded, would be a victory of the powers of evil
which would give courage to the enemies of progress and damp the spirits
of its friends all over the civilized world, while it would create a
formidable military power, grounded on the worst and most anti-social
form of the tyranny of men over men, and, by destroying for a long time
the prestige of the great democratic republic, would give to all the
privileged classes of Europe a false confidence, probably only to be
extinguished in blood. On the other hand, if the spirit of the North was
sufficiently roused to carry the war to a successful termination, and if
that termination did not come too soon and too easily, I foresaw, from
the laws of human nature, and the experience of revolutions, that when
it did come it would in all probability be thorough: that the bulk of
the Northern population, whose conscience had as yet been awakened only
to the point of resisting the further extension of slavery, but whose
fidelity to the Constitution of the United States made them disapprove
of any attempt by the Federal Government to interfere with slavery in
the States where it already existed, would acquire feelings of another
kind when the Constitution had been shaken off by armed rebellion, would
determine to have done for ever with the accursed thing, and would join
their banner with that of the noble body of Abolitionists, of whom
Garrison was the courageous and single-minded apostle, Wendell Phillips
the eloquent orator, and John Brown the voluntary martyr. [8] Then, too,
the whole mind of the United States would be let loose from its bonds,
no longer corrupted by the supposed necessity of apologizing to
foreigners for the most flagrant of all possible violations of the free
principles of their Constitution; while the tendency of a fixed state of
society to stereotype a set of national opinions would be at least
temporarily checked, and the national mind would become more open to the
recognition of whatever was bad in either the institutions or the
customs of the people. These hopes, so far as related to slavery, have
been completely, and in other respects are in course of being
progressively realized. Foreseeing from the first this double set of
consequences from the success or failure of the rebellion, it may be
imagined with what feelings I contemplated the rush of nearly the whole
upper and middle classes of my own country even those who passed for
Liberals, into a furious pro-Southern partisanship: the working
classes, and some of the literary and scientific men, being almost the
sole exceptions to the general frenzy. I never before felt so keenly how
little permanent improvement had reached the minds of our influential
classes, and of what small value were the liberal opinions they had got
into the habit of professing. None of the Continental Liberals committed
the same frightful mistake. But the generation which had extorted negro
emancipation from our West India planters had passed away; another had
succeeded which had not learnt by many years of discussion and exposure
to feel strongly the enormities of slavery; and the inattention habitual
with Englishmen to whatever is going on in the world outside their own
island, made them profoundly ignorant of all the antecedents of the
struggle, insomuch that it was not generally believed in England, for
the first year or two of the war, that the quarrel was one of slavery.
There were men of high principle and unquestionable liberality of
opinion, who thought it a dispute about tariffs, or assimilated it to
the cases in which they were accustomed to sympathize, of a people
struggling for independence.

It was my obvious duty to be one of the small minority who protested
against this perverted state of public opinion. I was not the first to
protest. It ought to be remembered to the honour of Mr. Hughes and of
Mr. Ludlow, that they, by writings published at the very beginning of
the struggle, began the protestation. Mr. Bright followed in one of the
most powerful of his speeches, followed by others not less striking. I
was on the point of adding my words to theirs, when there occurred,
towards the end of 1861, the seizure of the Southern envoys on board a
British vessel, by an officer of the United States. Even English
forgetfulness has not yet had time to lose all remembrance of the
explosion of feeling in England which then burst forth, the expectation,
prevailing for some weeks, of war with the United States, and the
warlike preparations actually commenced on this side. While this state
of things lasted, there was no chance of a hearing for anything
favourable to the American cause; and, moreover, I agreed with those who
thought the act unjustifiable, and such as to require that England
should demand its disavowal. When the disavowal came, and the alarm of
war was over, I wrote, in January, 1862, the paper, in _Fraser's
Magazine_, entitled "The Contest in America," [and I shall always feel
grateful to my daughter that her urgency prevailed on me to write it
when I did, for we were then on the point of setting out for a journey
of some months in Greece and Turkey, and but for her, I should have
deferred writing till our return. ] Written and published when it was,
this paper helped to encourage those Liberals who had felt overborne by
the tide of illiberal opinion, and to form in favour of the good cause a
nucleus of opinion which increased gradually, and, after the success of
the North began to seem probable, rapidly. When we returned from our
journey I wrote a second article, a review of Professor Cairnes' book,
published in the _Westminster Review_. England is paying the penalty, in
many uncomfortable ways, of the durable resentment which her ruling
classes stirred up in the United States by their ostentatious wishes for
the ruin of America as a nation; they have reason to be thankful that a
few, if only a few, known writers and speakers, standing firmly by the
Americans in the time of their greatest difficulty, effected a partial
diversion of these bitter feelings, and made Great Britain not
altogether odious to the Americans.

This duty having been performed, my principal occupation for the next
two years was on subjects not political. The publication of Mr. Austin's
_Lectures on Jurisprudence_ after his decease, gave me an opportunity of
paying a deserved tribute to his memory, and at the same time expressing
some thoughts on a subject on which, in my old days of Benthamism, I had
bestowed much study. But the chief product of those years was the
_Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy_. His _Lectures_,
published in 1860 and 1861, I had read towards the end of the latter
year, with a half-formed intention of giving an account of them in a
Review, but I soon found that this would be idle, and that justice could
not be done to the subject in less than a volume. I had then to consider
whether it would be advisable that I myself should attempt such a
performance. On consideration, there seemed to be strong reasons for
doing so. I was greatly disappointed with the _Lectures_. I read them,
certainly, with no prejudice against Sir William Hamilton. I had up to
that time deferred the study of his _Notes to Reid_ on account of their
unfinished state, but I had not neglected his _Discussions in
Philosophy_; and though I knew that his general mode of treating the
facts of mental philosophy differed from that of which I most approved,
yet his vigorous polemic against the later Transcendentalists, and his
strenuous assertion of some important principles, especially the
Relativity of human knowledge, gave me many points of sympathy with his
opinions, and made me think that genuine psychology had considerably
more to gain than to lose by his authority and reputation. His
_Lectures_ and the _Dissertations on Reid_ dispelled this illusion: and
even the _Discussions_, read by the light which these throw on them,
lost much of their value. I found that the points of apparent agreement
between his opinions and mine were more verbal than real; that the
important philosophical principles which I had thought he recognised,
were so explained away by him as to mean little or nothing, or were
continually lost sight of, and doctrines entirely inconsistent with them
were taught in nearly every part of his philosophical writings. My
estimation of him was therefore so far altered, that instead of
regarding him as occupying a kind of intermediate position between the
two rival philosophies, holding some of the principles of both, and
supplying to both powerful weapons of attack and defence, I now looked
upon him as one of the pillars, and in this country from his high
philosophical reputation the chief pillar, of that one of the two which
seemed to me to be erroneous.

Now, the difference between these two schools of philosophy, that of
Intuition, and that of Experience and Association, is not a mere matter
of abstract speculation; it is full of practical consequences, and lies
at the foundation of all the greatest differences of practical opinion
in an age of progress. The practical reformer has continually to demand
that changes be made in things which are supported by powerful and
widely-spread feelings, or to question the apparent necessity and
indefeasibleness of established facts; and it is often an indispensable
part of his argument to show, how those powerful feelings had their
origin, and how those facts came to seem necessary and indefeasible.
There is therefore a natural hostility between him and a philosophy
which discourages the explanation of feelings and moral facts by
circumstances and association, and prefers to treat them as ultimate
elements of human nature; a philosophy which is addicted to holding up
favourite doctrines as intuitive truths, and deems intuition to be the
voice of Nature and of God, speaking with an authority higher than that
of our reason. In particular, I have long felt that the prevailing
tendency to regard all the marked distinctions of human character as
innate, and in the main indelible, and to ignore the irresistible proofs
that by far the greater part of those differences, whether between
individuals, races, or sexes, are such as not only might but naturally
would be produced by differences in circumstances, is one of the chief
hindrances to the rational treatment of great social questions, and one
of the greatest stumbling blocks to human improvement. This tendency has
its source in the intuitional metaphysics which characterized the
reaction of the nineteenth century against the eighteenth, and it is a
tendency so agreeable to human indolence, as well as to conservative
interests generally, that unless attacked at the very root, it is sure
to be carried to even a greater length than is really justified by the
more moderate forms of the intuitional philosophy. That philosophy not
always in its moderate forms, had ruled the thought of Europe for the
greater part of a century. My father's _Analysis of the Mind_, my own
_Logic_, and Professor Bain's great treatise, had attempted to
re-introduce a better mode of philosophizing, latterly with quite as
much success as could be expected; but I had for some time felt that the
mere contrast of the two philosophies was not enough, that there ought
to be a hand-to-hand fight between them, that controversial as well as
expository writings were needed, and that the time was come when such
controversy would be useful. Considering, then, the writings and fame of
Sir W. Hamilton as the great fortress of the intuitional philosophy in
this country, a fortress the more formidable from the imposing
character, and the in many respects great personal merits and mental
endowments, of the man, I thought it might be a real service to
philosophy to attempt a thorough examination of all his most important
doctrines, and an estimate of his general claims to eminence as a
philosopher; and I was confirmed in this resolution by observing that in
the writings of at least one, and him one of the ablest, of Sir W.
Hamilton's followers, his peculiar doctrines were made the justification
of a view of religion which I hold to be profoundly immoral--that it is
our duty to bow down in worship before a Being whose moral attributes
are affirmed to be unknowable by us, and to be perhaps extremely
different from those which, when we are speaking of our
fellow-creatures, we call by the same names.

As I advanced in my task, the damage to Sir W. Hamilton's reputation
became greater than I at first expected, through the almost incredible
multitude of inconsistencies which showed themselves on comparing
different passages with one another. It was my business, however, to
show things exactly as they were, and I did not flinch from it. I
endeavoured always to treat the philosopher whom I criticized with the
most scrupulous fairness; and I knew that he had abundance of disciples
and admirers to correct me if I ever unintentionally did him injustice.
Many of them accordingly have answered me, more or less elaborately, and
they have pointed out oversights and misunderstandings, though few in
number, and mostly very unimportant in substance. Such of those as had
(to my knowledge) been pointed out before the publication of the latest
edition (at present the third) have been corrected there, and the
remainder of the criticisms have been, as far as seemed necessary,
replied to. On the whole, the book has done its work: it has shown the
weak side of Sir William Hamilton, and has reduced his too great
philosophical reputation within more moderate bounds; and by some of its
discussions, as well as by two expository chapters, on the notions of
Matter and of Mind, it has perhaps thrown additional light on some of
the disputed questions in the domain of psychology and metaphysics.

After the completion of the book on Hamilton, I applied myself to a task
which a variety of reasons seemed to render specially incumbent upon me;
that of giving an account, and forming an estimate, of the doctrines of
Auguste Comte. I had contributed more than any one else to make his
speculations known in England, and, in consequence chiefly of what I had
said of him in my _Logic_, he had readers and admirers among thoughtful
men on this side of the Channel at a time when his name had not yet in
France emerged from obscurity. So unknown and unappreciated was he at
the time when my _Logic_ was written and published, that to criticize
his weak points might well appear superfluous, while it was a duty to
give as much publicity as one could to the important contributions he
had made to philosophic thought. At the time, however, at which I have
now arrived, this state of affairs had entirely changed. His name, at
least, was known almost universally, and the general character of his
doctrines very widely. He had taken his place in the estimation both of
friends and opponents, as one of the conspicuous figures in the thought
of the age. The better parts of his speculations had made great progress
in working their way into those minds, which, by their previous culture
and tendencies, were fitted to receive them: under cover of those better
parts those of a worse character, greatly developed and added to in his
later writings, had also made some way, having obtained active and
enthusiastic adherents, some of them of no inconsiderable personal
merit, in England, France, and other countries. These causes not only
made it desirable that some one should undertake the task of sifting
what is good from what is bad in M. Comte's speculations, but seemed to
impose on myself in particular a special obligation to make the attempt.
This I accordingly did in two essays, published in successive numbers of
the _Westminster Review_, and reprinted in a small volume under the
title _Auguste Comte and Positivism_.

The writings which I have now mentioned, together with a small number of
papers in periodicals which I have not deemed worth preserving, were the
whole of the products of my activity as a writer during the years from
1859 to 1865. In the early part of the last-mentioned year, in
compliance with a wish frequently expressed to me by working men, I
published cheap People's Editions of those of my writings which seemed
the most likely to find readers among the working classes; viz,
_Principles of Political Economy_, _Liberty_, and _Representative
Government_. This was a considerable sacrifice of my pecuniary interest,
especially as I resigned all idea of deriving profit from the cheap
editions, and after ascertaining from my publishers the lowest price
which they thought would remunerate them on the usual terms of an equal
division of profits, I gave up my half share to enable the price to be
fixed still lower. To the credit of Messrs. Longman they fixed, unasked,
a certain number of years after which the copyright and stereotype
plates were to revert to me, and a certain number of copies after the
sale of which I should receive half of any further profit. This number
of copies (which in the case of the _Political Economy_ was 10,000) has
for some time been exceeded, and the People's Editions have begun to
yield me a small but unexpected pecuniary return, though very far from
an equivalent for the diminution of profit from the Library Editions.

In this summary of my outward life I have now arrived at the period at
which my tranquil and retired existence as a writer of books was to be
exchanged for the less congenial occupation of a member of the House of
Commons. The proposal made to me, early in 1865, by some electors of
Westminster, did not present the idea to me for the first time. It was
not even the first offer I had received, for, more than ten years
previous, in consequence of my opinions on the Irish Land Question, Mr.
Lucas and Mr. Duffy, in the name of the popular party in Ireland,
offered to bring me into Parliament for an Irish county, which they
could easily have done: but the incompatibility of a seat in Parliament
with the office I then held in the India House, precluded even
consideration of the proposal. After I had quitted the India House,
several of my friends would gladly have seen me a member of Parliament;
but there seemed no probability that the idea would ever take any
practical shape. I was convinced that no numerous or influential portion
of any electoral body, really wished to be represented by a person of my
opinions; and that one who possessed no local connection or popularity,
and who did not choose to stand as the mere organ of a party had small
chance of being elected anywhere unless through the expenditure of
money. Now it was, and is, my fixed conviction, that a candidate ought
not to incur one farthing of expense for undertaking a public duty. Such
of the lawful expenses of an election as have no special reference to
any particular candidate, ought to be borne as a public charge, either
by the State or by the locality. What has to be done by the supporters
of each candidate in order to bring his claims properly before the
constituency, should be done by unpaid agency or by voluntary
subscription. If members of the electoral body, or others, are willing
to subscribe money of their own for the purpose of bringing, by lawful
means, into Parliament some one who they think would be useful there, no
one is entitled to object: but that the expense, or any part of it,
should fall on the candidate, is fundamentally wrong; because it amounts
in reality to buying his seat. Even on the most favourable supposition
as to the mode in which the money is expended, there is a legitimate
suspicion that any one who gives money for leave to undertake a public
trust, has other than public ends to promote by it; and (a consideration
of the greatest importance) the cost of elections, when borne by the
candidates, deprives the nation of the services, as members of
Parliament, of all who cannot or will not afford to incur a heavy
expense. I do not say that, so long as there is scarcely a chance for an
independent candidate to come into Parliament without complying with
this vicious practice, it must always be morally wrong in him to spend
money, provided that no part of it is either directly or indirectly
employed in corruption. But, to justify it, he ought to be very certain
that he can be of more use to his country as a member of Parliament than
in any other mode which is open to him; and this assurance, in my own
case, I did not feel. It was by no means clear to me that I could do
more to advance the public objects which had a claim on my exertions,
from the benches of the House of Commons, than from the simple position
of a writer. I felt, therefore, that I ought not to seek election to
Parliament, much less to expend any money in procuring it.

But the conditions of the question were considerably altered when a body
of electors sought me out, and spontaneously offered to bring me forward
as their candidate. If it should appear, on explanation, that they
persisted in this wish, knowing my opinions, and accepting the only
conditions on which I could conscientiously serve, it was questionable
whether this was not one of those calls upon a member of the community
by his fellow-citizens, which he was scarcely justified in rejecting. I
therefore put their disposition to the proof by one of the frankest
explanations ever tendered, I should think, to an electoral body by a
candidate. I wrote, in reply to the offer, a letter for publication,
saying that I had no personal wish to be a member of Parliament, that I
thought a candidate ought neither to canvass nor to incur any expense,
and that I could not consent to do either. I said further, that if
elected, I could not undertake to give any of my time and labour to
their local interests. With respect to general politics, I told them
without reserve, what I thought on a number of important subjects on
which they had asked my opinion: and one of these being the suffrage, I
made known to them, among other things, my conviction (as I was bound to
do, since I intended, if elected, to act on it), that women were
entitled to representation in Parliament on the same terms with men. It
was the first time, doubtless, that such a doctrine had ever been
mentioned to English electors; and the fact that I was elected after
proposing it, gave the start to the movement which has since become so
vigorous, in favour of women's suffrage. Nothing, at the time, appeared
more unlikely than that a candidate (if candidate I could be called)
whose professions and conduct set so completely at defiance all ordinary
notions of electioneering, should nevertheless be elected. A well-known
literary man[, who was also a man of society,] was heard to say that the
Almighty himself would have no chance of being elected on such a
programme. I strictly adhered to it, neither spending money nor
canvassing, nor did I take any personal part in the election, until
about a week preceding the day of nomination, when I attended a few
public meetings to state my principles and give to any questions which
the electors might exercise their just right of putting to me for their
own guidance; answers as plain and unreserved as my address. On one
subject only, my religious opinions, I announced from the beginning that
I would answer no questions; a determination which appeared to be
completely approved by those who attended the meetings. My frankness on
all other subjects on which I was interrogated, evidently did me far
more good than my answers, whatever they might be, did harm. Among the
proofs I received of this, one is too remarkable not to be recorded.
In
the pamphlet, _Thoughts on Parliamentary Reform_, I had said, rather
bluntly, that the working classes, though differing from those of some
other countries, in being ashamed of lying, are yet generally liars.
This passage some opponent got printed in a placard, which was handed to
me at a meeting, chiefly composed of the working classes, and I was
asked whether I had written and published it. I at once answered "I
did. " Scarcely were these two words out of my mouth, when vehement
applause resounded through the whole meeting. It was evident that the
working people were so accustomed to expect equivocation and evasion
from those who sought their suffrages, that when they found, instead of
that, a direct avowal of what was likely to be disagreeable to them,
instead of being affronted, they concluded at once that this was a
person whom they could trust. A more striking instance never came under
my notice of what, I believe, is the experience of those who best know
the working classes, that the most essential of all recommendations to
their favour is that of complete straightforwardness; its presence
outweighs in their minds very strong objections, while no amount of
other qualities will make amends for its apparent absence. The first
working man who spoke after the incident I have mentioned (it was Mr.
Odger) said, that the working classes had no desire not to be told of
their faults; they wanted friends, not flatterers, and felt under
obligation to any one who told them anything in themselves which he
sincerely believed to require amendment. And to this the meeting
heartily responded.

Had I been defeated in the election, I should still have had no reason
to regret the contact it had brought me into with large bodies of my
countrymen; which not only gave me much new experience, but enabled me
to scatter my political opinions rather widely, and, by making me known
in many quarters where I had never before been heard of, increased the
number of my readers, and the presumable influence of my writings. These
latter effects were of course produced in a still greater degree, when,
as much to my surprise as to that of any one, I was returned to
Parliament by a majority of some hundreds over my Conservative
competitor.

I was a member of the House during the three sessions of the Parliament
which passed the Reform Bill; during which time Parliament was
necessarily my main occupation, except during the recess. I was a
tolerably frequent speaker, sometimes of prepared speeches, sometimes
extemporaneously. But my choice of occasions was not such as I should
have made if my leading object had been Parliamentary influence. When I
had gained the ear of the House, which I did by a successful speech on
Mr. Gladstone's Reform Bill, the idea I proceeded on was that when
anything was likely to be as well done, or sufficiently well done, by
other people, there was no necessity for me to meddle with it. As I,
therefore, in general reserved myself for work which no others were
likely to do, a great proportion of my appearances were on points on
which the bulk of the Liberal party, even the advanced portion of it,
either were of a different opinion from mine, or were comparatively
indifferent. Several of my speeches, especially one against the motion
for the abolition of capital punishment, and another in favour of
resuming the right of seizing enemies' goods in neutral vessels, were
opposed to what then was, and probably still is, regarded as the
advanced liberal opinion. My advocacy of women's suffrage and of
Personal Representation, were at the time looked upon by many as whims
of my own; but the great progress since made by those opinions, and
especially the response made from almost all parts of the kingdom to the
demand for women's suffrage, fully justified the timeliness of those
movements, and have made what was undertaken as a moral and social duty,
a personal success. Another duty which was particularly incumbent on me
as one of the Metropolitan Members, was the attempt to obtain a
Municipal Government for the Metropolis: but on that subject the
indifference of the House of Commons was such that I found hardly any
help or support within its walls. On this subject, however, I was the
organ of an active and intelligent body of persons outside, with whom,
and not with me, the scheme originated, and who carried on all the
agitation on the subject and drew up the Bills. My part was to bring in
Bills already prepared, and to sustain the discussion of them during the
short time they were allowed to remain before the House; after having
taken an active part in the work of a Committee presided over by Mr.
Ayrton, which sat through the greater part of the Session of 1866, to
take evidence on the subject. The very different position in which the
question now stands (1870) may justly be attributed to the preparation
which went on during those years, and which produced but little visible
effect at the time; but all questions on which there are strong private
interests on one side, and only the public good on the other, have a
similar period of incubation to go through.

The same idea, that the use of my being in Parliament was to do work
which others were not able or not willing to do, made me think it my
duty to come to the front in defence of advanced Liberalism on occasions
when the obloquy to be encountered was such as most of the advanced
Liberals in the House, preferred not to incur. My first vote in the
House was in support of an amendment in favour of Ireland, moved by an
Irish member, and for which only five English and Scotch votes were
given, including my own: the other four were Mr. Bright, Mr. McLaren,
Mr. T. B. Potter, and Mr. Hadfield. And the second speech I delivered[9]
was on the bill to prolong the suspension of the Habeas Corpus in
Ireland. In denouncing, on this occasion, the English mode of governing
Ireland, I did no more than the general opinion of England now admits to
have been just; but the anger against Fenianism was then in all its
freshness; any attack on what Fenians attacked was looked upon as an
apology for them; and I was so unfavourably received by the House, that
more than one of my friends advised me (and my own judgment agreed with
the advice) to wait, before speaking again, for the favourable
opportunity that would be given by the first great debate on the Reform
Bill. During this silence, many flattered themselves that I had turned
out a failure, and that they should not be troubled with me any more.
Perhaps their uncomplimentary comments may, by the force of reaction,
have helped to make my speech on the Reform Bill the success it was. My
position in the House was further improved by a speech in which I
insisted on the duty of paying off the National Debt before our coal
supplies are exhausted, and by an ironical reply to some of the Tory
leaders who had quoted against me certain passages of my writings, and
called me to account for others, especially for one in my
_Considerations on Representative Government_, which said that the
Conservative party was, by the law of its composition, the stupidest
party. They gained nothing by drawing attention to the passage, which up
to that time had not excited any notice, but the _sobriquet_ of "the
stupid party" stuck to them for a considerable time afterwards. Having
now no longer any apprehension of not being listened to, I confined
myself, as I have since thought too much, to occasions on which my
services seemed specially needed, and abstained more than enough from
speaking on the great party questions. With the exception of Irish
questions, and those which concerned the working classes, a single
speech on Mr. Disraeli's Reform Bill was nearly all that I contributed
to the great decisive debates of the last two of my three sessions.

I have, however, much satisfaction in looking back to the part I took on
the two classes of subjects just mentioned. With regard to the working
classes, the chief topic of my speech on Mr. Gladstone's Reform Bill was
the assertion of their claims to the suffrage. A little later, after the
resignation of Lord Russell's Ministry and the succession of a Tory
Government, came the attempt of the working classes to hold a meeting in
Hyde Park, their exclusion by the police, and the breaking down of the
park railing by the crowd. Though Mr. Beales and the leaders of the
working men had retired under protest before this took place, a scuffle
ensued in which many innocent persons were maltreated by the police, and
the exasperation of the working men was extreme. They showed a
determination to make another attempt at a meeting in the Park, to which
many of them would probably have come armed; the Government made
military preparations to resist the attempt, and something very serious
seemed impending. At this crisis I really believe that I was the means
of preventing much mischief. I had in my place in Parliament taken the
side of the working men, and strongly censured the conduct of the
Government. I was invited, with several other Radical members, to a
conference with the leading members of the Council of the Reform League;
and the task fell chiefly upon myself, of persuading them to give up the
Hyde Park project, and hold their meeting elsewhere. It was not Mr.
Beales and Colonel Dickson who needed persuading; on the contrary, it
was evident that these gentlemen had already exerted their influence in
the same direction, thus far without success. It was the working men who
held out, and so bent were they on their original scheme, that I was
obliged to have recourse to _les grands moyens_. I told them that a
proceeding which would certainly produce a collision with the military,
could only be justifiable on two conditions: if the position of affairs
had become such that a revolution was desirable, and if they thought
themselves able to accomplish one. To this argument, after considerable
discussion, they at last yielded: and I was able to inform Mr. Walpole
that their intention was given up. I shall never forget the depth of his
relief or the warmth of his expressions of gratitude. After the working
men had conceded so much to me, I felt bound to comply with their
request that I would attend and speak at their meeting at the
Agricultural Hall; the only meeting called by the Reform League which I
ever attended. I had always declined being a member of the League, on
the avowed ground that I did not agree in its programme of manhood
suffrage and the ballot: from the ballot I dissented entirely; and I
could not consent to hoist the flag of manhood suffrage, even on the
assurance that the exclusion of women was not intended to be implied;
since if one goes beyond what can be immediately carried, and professes
to take one's stand on a principle, one should go the whole length of
the principle. I have entered thus particularly into this matter because
my conduct on this occasion gave great displeasure to the Tory and
Tory-Liberal press, who have charged me ever since with having shown
myself, in the trials of public life, intemperate and passionate. I do
not know what they expected from me; but they had reason to be thankful
to me if they knew from what I had, in all probability preserved them.
And I do not believe it could have been done, at that particular
juncture, by any one else. No other person, I believe, had at that
moment the necessary influence for restraining the working classes,
except Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Bright, neither of whom was available: Mr.
Gladstone, for obvious reasons; Mr. Bright because he was out of town.

When, some time later, the Tory Government brought in a bill to prevent
public meetings in the Parks, I not only spoke strongly in opposition to
it, but formed one of a number of advanced Liberals, who, aided by the
very late period of the session, succeeded in defeating the Bill by what
is called talking it out. It has not since been renewed.

On Irish affairs also I felt bound to take a decided part. I was one of
the foremost in the deputation of Members of Parliament who prevailed on
Lord Derby to spare the life of the condemned Fenian insurgent, General
Burke. The Church question was so vigorously handled by the leaders of
the party, in the session of 1868, as to require no more from me than an
emphatic adhesion: but the land question was by no means in so advanced
a position; the superstitions of landlordism had up to that time been
little challenged, especially in Parliament, and the backward state of
the question, so far as concerned the Parliamentary mind, was evidenced
by the extremely mild measure brought in by Lord Russell's government in
1866, which nevertheless could not be carried. On that bill I delivered
one of my most careful speeches, in which I attempted to lay down some
of the principles of the subject, in a manner calculated less to
stimulate friends, than to conciliate and convince opponents. The
engrossing subject of Parliamentary Reform prevented either this bill,
or one of a similar character brought in by Lord Derby's Government,
from being carried through. They never got beyond the second reading.
Meanwhile the signs of Irish disaffection had become much more decided;
the demand for complete separation between the two countries had assumed
a menacing aspect, and there were few who did not feel that if there was
still any chance of reconciling Ireland to the British connection, it
could only be by the adoption of much more thorough reforms in the
territorial and social relations of the country, than had yet been
contemplated. The time seemed to me to have come when it would be useful
to speak out my whole mind; and the result was my pamphlet _England and
Ireland_, which was written in the winter of 1867, and published shortly
before the commencement of the session of 1868. The leading features of
the pamphlet were, on the one hand, an argument to show the
undesirableness, for Ireland as well as England, of separation between
the countries, and on the other, a proposal for settling the land
question by giving to the existing tenants a permanent tenure, at a
fixed rent, to be assessed after due inquiry by the State.

The pamphlet was not popular, except in Ireland, as I did not expect it
to be. But, if no measure short of that which I proposed would do full
justice to Ireland, or afford a prospect of conciliating the mass of the
Irish people, the duty of proposing it was imperative; while if, on the
other hand, there was any intermediate course which had a claim to a
trial, I well knew that to propose something which would be called
extreme, was the true way not to impede but to facilitate a more
moderate experiment. It is most improbable that a measure conceding so
much to the tenantry as Mr. Gladstone's Irish Land Bill, would have been
proposed by a Government, or could have been carried through Parliament,
unless the British public had been led to perceive that a case might be
made, and perhaps a party formed, for a measure considerably stronger.
It is the character of the British people, or at least of the higher and
middle classes who pass muster for the British people, that to induce
them to approve of any change, it is necessary that they should look
upon it as a middle course: they think every proposal extreme and
violent unless they hear of some other proposal going still farther,
upon which their antipathy to extreme views may discharge itself. So it
proved in the present instance; my proposal was condemned, but any
scheme for Irish Land reform short of mine, came to be thought moderate
by comparison. I may observe that the attacks made on my plan usually
gave a very incorrect idea of its nature. It was usually discussed as a
proposal that the State should buy up the land and become the universal
landlord; though in fact it only offered to each individual landlord
this as an alternative, if he liked better to sell his estate than to
retain it on the new conditions; and I fully anticipated that most
landlords would continue to prefer the position of landowners to that of
Government annuitants, and would retain their existing relation to their
tenants, often on more indulgent terms than the full rents on which the
compensation to be given them by Government would have been based. This
and many other explanations I gave in a speech on Ireland, in the debate
on Mr. Maguire's Resolution, early in the session of 1868. A corrected
report of this speech, together with my speech on Mr. Fortescue's Bill,
has been published (not by me, but with my permission) in Ireland.

Another public duty, of a most serious kind, it was my lot to have to
perform, both in and out of Parliament, during these years. A
disturbance in Jamaica, provoked in the first instance by injustice, and
exaggerated by rage and panic into a premeditated rebellion, had been
the motive or excuse for taking hundreds of innocent lives by military
violence, or by sentence of what were called courts-martial, continuing
for weeks after the brief disturbance had been put down; with many added
atrocities of destruction of property logging women as well as men, and
a general display of the brutal recklessness which usually prevails when
fire and sword are let loose. The perpetrators of those deeds were
defended and applauded in England by the same kind of people who had so
long upheld negro slavery: and it seemed at first as if the British
nation was about to incur the disgrace of letting pass without even a
protest, excesses of authority as revolting as any of those for which,
when perpetrated by the instruments of other governments, Englishmen can
hardly find terms sufficient to express their abhorrence. After a short
time, however, an indignant feeling was roused: a voluntary Association
formed itself under the name of the Jamaica Committee, to take such
deliberation and action as the case might admit of, and adhesions poured
in from all parts of the country. I was abroad at the time, but I sent
in my name to the Committee as soon as I heard of it, and took an active
part in the proceedings from the time of my return. There was much more
at stake than only justice to the negroes, imperative as was that
consideration. The question was, whether the British dependencies, and
eventually, perhaps, Great Britain itself, were to be under the
government of law, or of military licence; whether the lives and persons
of British subjects are at the mercy of any two or three officers
however raw and inexperienced or reckless and brutal, whom a
panic-stricken Governor, or other functionary, may assume the right to
constitute into a so-called court-martial. This question could only be
decided by an appeal to the tribunals; and such an appeal the Committee
determined to make. Their determination led to a change in the
chairmanship of the Committee, as the chairman, Mr. Charles Buxton,
thought it not unjust indeed, but inexpedient, to prosecute Governor
Eyre and his principal subordinates in a criminal court: but a
numerously attended general meeting of the Association having decided
this point against him, Mr. Buxton withdrew from the Committee, though
continuing to work in the cause, and I was, quite unexpectedly on my own
part, proposed and elected chairman. It became, in consequence, my duty
to represent the Committee in the House of Commons, sometimes by putting
questions to the Government, sometimes as the recipient of questions,
more or less provocative, addressed by individual members to myself; but
especially as speaker in the important debate originated in the session
of 1866, by Mr. Buxton: and the speech I then delivered is that which I
should probably select as the best of my speeches in Parliament. [10] For
more than two years we carried on the combat, trying every avenue
legally open to us, to the Courts of Criminal Justice. A bench of
magistrates in one of the most Tory counties in England dismissed our
case: we were more successful before the magistrates at Bow Street;
which gave an opportunity to the Lord Chief Justice of the Queen's
Bench, Sir Alexander Cockburn, for delivering his celebrated charge,
which settled the law of the question in favour of liberty, as far as it
is in the power of a judge's charge to settle it. There, however, our
success ended, for the Old Bailey Grand jury by throwing out our bill
prevented the case from coming to trial. It was clear that to bring
English functionaries to the bar of a criminal court for abuses of power
committed against negroes and mulattoes was not a popular proceeding
with the English middle classes. We had, however, redeemed, so far as
lay in us, the character of our country, by showing that there was at
any rate a body of persons determined to use all the means which the law
afforded to obtain justice for the injured. We had elicited from the
highest criminal judge in the nation an authoritative declaration that
the law was what we maintained it to be; and we had given an emphatic
warning to those who might be tempted to similar guilt hereafter, that,
though they might escape the actual sentence of a criminal tribunal,
they were not safe against being put to some trouble and expense in
order to avoid it. Colonial governors and other persons in authority,
will have a considerable motive to stop short of such extremities in
future.

As a matter of curiosity I kept some specimens of the abusive letters,
almost all of them anonymous, which I received while these proceedings
were going on. They are evidence of the sympathy felt with the
brutalities in Jamaica by the brutal part of the population at home.
They graduated from coarse jokes, verbal and pictorial, up to threats of
assassination.

Among other matters of importance in which I took an active part, but
which excited little interest in the public, two deserve particular
mention. I joined with several other independent Liberals in defeating
an Extradition Bill introduced at the very end of the session of 1866,
and by which, though surrender avowedly for political offences was not
authorized, political refugees, if charged by a foreign Government with
acts which are necessarily incident to all attempts at insurrection,
would have been surrendered to be dealt with by the criminal courts of
the Government against which they had rebelled: thus making the British
Government an accomplice in the vengeance of foreign despotisms. The
defeat of this proposal led to the appointment of a Select Committee (in
which I was included), to examine and report on the whole subject of
Extradition Treaties; and the result was, that in the Extradition Act
which passed through Parliament after I had ceased to be a member,
opportunity is given to any one whose extradition is demanded, of being
heard before an English court of justice to prove that the offence with
which he is charged, is really political. The cause of European freedom
has thus been saved from a serious misfortune, and our own country from
a great iniquity. The other subject to be mentioned is the fight kept up
by a body of advanced Liberals in the session of 1868, on the Bribery
Bill of Mr. Disraeli's Government, in which I took a very active part. I
had taken counsel with several of those who had applied their minds most
carefully to the details of the subject--Mr. W. D. Christie, Serjeant
Pulling, Mr. Chadwick--as well as bestowed much thought of my own, for
the purpose of framing such amendments and additional clauses as might
make the Bill really effective against the numerous modes of corruption,
direct and indirect, which might otherwise, as there was much reason to
fear, be increased instead of diminished by the Reform Act. We also
aimed at engrafting on the Bill, measures for diminishing the
mischievous burden of what are called the legitimate expenses of
elections. Among our many amendments, was that of Mr. Fawcett for making
the returning officer's expenses a charge on the rates, instead of on
the candidates; another was the prohibition of paid canvassers, and the
limitation of paid agents to one for each candidate; a third was the
extension of the precautions and penalties against bribery to municipal
elections, which are well known to be not only a preparatory school for
bribery at parliamentary elections, but an habitual cover for it. The
Conservative Government, however, when once they had carried the leading
provision of their Bill (for which I voted and spoke), the transfer of
the jurisdiction in elections from the House of Commons to the Judges,
made a determined resistance to all other improvements; and after one of
our most important proposals, that of Mr. Fawcett, had actually obtained
a majority, they summoned the strength of their party and threw out the
clause in a subsequent stage. The Liberal party in the House was greatly
dishonoured by the conduct of many of its members in giving no help
whatever to this attempt to secure the necessary conditions of an honest
representation of the people. With their large majority in the House
they could have carried all the amendments, or better ones if they had
better to propose. But it was late in the session; members were eager to
set about their preparations for the impending General Election: and
while some (such as Sir Robert Anstruther) honourably remained at their
post, though rival candidates were already canvassing their constituency,
a much greater number placed their electioneering interests before their
public duty. Many Liberals also looked with indifference on legislation
against bribery, thinking that it merely diverted public interest from
the Ballot, which they considered--very mistakenly as I expect it will
turn out--to be a sufficient, and the only, remedy. From these causes our
fight, though kept up with great vigour for several nights, was wholly
unsuccessful, and the practices which we sought to render more difficult,
prevailed more widely than ever in the first General Election held under
the new electoral law.

In the general debates on Mr. Disraeli's Reform Bill, my participation
was limited to the one speech already mentioned; but I made the Bill an
occasion for bringing the two great improvements which remain to be made
in Representative Government, formally before the House and the nation.
One of them was Personal, or, as it is called with equal propriety,
Proportional Representation. I brought this under the consideration of
the House, by an expository and argumentative speech on Mr. Hare's plan;
and subsequently I was active in support of the very imperfect
substitute for that plan, which, in a small number of constituencies,
Parliament was induced to adopt. This poor makeshift had scarcely any
recommendation, except that it was a partial recognition of the evil
which it did so little to remedy. As such, however, it was attacked by
the same fallacies, and required to be defended on the same principles,
as a really good measure; and its adoption in a few Parliamentary
elections, as well as the subsequent introduction of what is called the
Cumulative Vote in the elections for the London School Board, have had
the good effect of converting the equal claim of all electors to a
proportional share in the representation, from a subject of merely
speculative discussion, into a question of practical politics, much
sooner than would otherwise have been the case.

This assertion of my opinions on Personal Representation cannot be
credited with any considerable or visible amount of practical result. It
was otherwise with the other motion which I made in the form of an
amendment to the Reform Bill, and which was by far the most important,
perhaps the only really important, public service I performed in the
capacity of a Member of Parliament: a motion to strike out the words
which were understood to limit the electoral franchise to males, and
thereby to admit to the suffrage all women who, as householders or
otherwise, possessed the qualification required of male electors. For
women not to make their claim to the suffrage, at the time when the
elective franchise was being largely extended, would have been to abjure
the claim altogether; and a movement on the subject was begun in 1866,
when I presented a petition for the suffrage, signed by a considerable
number of distinguished women. But it was as yet uncertain whether the
proposal would obtain more than a few stray votes in the House: and
when, after a debate in which the speaker's on the contrary side were
conspicuous by their feebleness, the votes recorded in favour of the
motion amounted to 73--made up by pairs and tellers to above 80--the
surprise was general, and the encouragement great: the greater, too,
because one of those who voted for the motion was Mr. Bright, a fact
which could only be attributed to the impression made on him by the
debate, as he had previously made no secret of his nonconcurrence in the
proposal. [The time appeared to my daughter, Miss Helen Taylor, to have
come for forming a Society for the extension of the suffrage to women.
The existence of the Society is due to my daughter's initiative; its
constitution was planned entirely by her, and she was the soul of the
movement during its first years, though delicate health and
superabundant occupation made her decline to be a member of the
Executive Committee. Many distinguished members of parliament,
professors, and others, and some of the most eminent women of whom the
country can boast, became members of the Society, a large proportion
either directly or indirectly through my daughter's influence, she
having written the greater number, and all the best, of the letters by
which adhesions was obtained, even when those letters bore my signature.
In two remarkable instances, those of Miss Nightingale and Miss Mary
Carpenter, the reluctance those ladies had at first felt to come
forward, (for it was not on their past difference of opinion) was
overcome by appeals written by my daughter though signed by me.
Associations for the same object were formed in various local centres,
Manchester, Edinburgh, Birmingham, Bristol, and Glasgow; and others
which have done much valuable work for the cause. All the Societies take
the title of branches of the National Society for Women's Suffrage; but
each has its own governing body, and acts in complete independence of
the others. ]

I believe I have mentioned all that is worth remembering of my
proceedings in the House. But their enumeration, even if complete, would
give but an inadequate idea of my occupations during that period, and
especially of the time taken up by correspondence. For many years before
my election to Parliament, I had been continually receiving letters from
strangers, mostly addressed to me as a writer on philosophy, and either
propounding difficulties or communicating thoughts on subjects connected
with logic or political economy. In common, I suppose, with all who are
known as political economists, I was a recipient of all the shallow
theories and absurd proposals by which people are perpetually
endeavouring to show the way to universal wealth and happiness by some
artful reorganization of the currency. When there were signs of
sufficient intelligence in the writers to make it worth while attempting
to put them right, I took the trouble to point out their errors, until
the growth of my correspondence made it necessary to dismiss such
persons with very brief answers. Many, however, of the communications I
received were more worthy of attention than these, and in some,
oversights of detail were pointed out in my writings, which I was thus
enabled to correct. Correspondence of this sort naturally multiplied
with the multiplication of the subjects on which I wrote, especially
those of a metaphysical character. But when I became a member of
Parliament. I began to receive letters on private grievances and on
every imaginable subject that related to any kind of public affairs,
however remote from my knowledge or pursuits. It was not my constituents
in Westminster who laid this burthen on me: they kept with remarkable
fidelity to the understanding on which I had consented to serve. I
received, indeed, now and then an application from some ingenuous youth
to procure for him a small government appointment; but these were few,
and how simple and ignorant the writers were, was shown by the fact that
the applications came in about equally whichever party was in power. My
invariable answer was, that it was contrary to the principles on which I
was elected to ask favours of any Government. But, on the whole, hardly
any part of the country gave me less trouble than my own constituents.
The general mass of correspondence, however, swelled into an oppressive
burthen.

[At this time, and thenceforth, a great proportion of all my letters
(including many which found their way into the newspapers) were not
written by me but by my daughter; at first merely from her willingness
to help in disposing of a mass of letters greater than I could get
through without assistance, but afterwards because I thought the letters
she wrote superior to mine, and more so in proportion to the difficulty
and importance of the occasion. Even those which I wrote myself were
generally much improved by her, as is also the case with all the more
recent of my prepared speeches, of which, and of some of my published
writings, not a few passages, and those the most successful, were hers. ]

While I remained in Parliament my work as an author was unavoidably
limited to the recess. During that time I wrote (besides the pamphlet on
Ireland, already mentioned), the Essay on Plato, published in the
_Edinburgh Review_, and reprinted in the third volume of _Dissertations
and Discussions_; and the address which, conformably to custom, I
delivered to the University of St. Andrew's, whose students had done me
the honour of electing me to the office of Rector. In this Discourse I
gave expression to many thoughts and opinions which had been
accumulating in me through life, respecting the various studies which
belong to a liberal education, their uses and influences, and the mode
in which they should be pursued to render their influences most
beneficial. The position taken up, vindicating the high educational
value alike of the old classic and the new scientific studies, on even
stronger grounds than are urged by most of their advocates, and
insisting that it is only the stupid inefficiency of the usual teaching
which makes those studies be regarded as competitors instead of allies,
was, I think, calculated, not only to aid and stimulate the improvement
which has happily commenced in the national institutions for higher
education, but to diffuse juster ideas than we often find, even in
highly educated men, on the conditions of the highest mental
cultivation.

During this period also I commenced (and completed soon after I had left
Parliament) the performance of a duty to philosophy and to the memory of
my father, by preparing and publishing an edition of the _Analysis of
the Phenomena of the Human Mind_, with notes bringing up the doctrines
of that admirable book to the latest improvements in science and in
speculation. This was a joint undertaking: the psychological notes being
furnished in about equal proportions by Mr. Bain and myself, while Mr.
Grote supplied some valuable contributions on points in the history of
philosophy incidentally raised, and Dr. Andrew Findlater supplied the
deficiencies in the book which had been occasioned by the imperfect
philological knowledge of the time when it was written. Having been
originally published at a time when the current of metaphysical
speculation ran in a quite opposite direction to the psychology of
Experience and Association, the _Analysis_ had not obtained the amount
of immediate success which it deserved, though it had made a deep
impression on many individual minds, and had largely contributed,
through those minds, to create that more favourable atmosphere for the
Association Psychology of which we now have the benefit. Admirably
adapted for a class book of the Experience Metaphysics, it only required
to be enriched, and in some cases corrected, by the results of more
recent labours in the same school of thought, to stand, as it now does,
in company with Mr. Bain's treatises, at the head of the systematic
works on Analytic psychology.

In the autumn of 1868 the Parliament which passed the Reform Act was
dissolved, and at the new election for Westminster I was thrown out; not
to my surprise, nor, I believe, to that of my principal supporters,
though in the few days preceding the election they had become more
sanguine than before. That I should not have been elected at all would
not have required any explanation; what excites curiosity is that I
should have been elected the first time, or, having been elected then,
should have been defeated afterwards. But the efforts made to defeat me
were far greater on the second occasion than on the first. For one
thing, the Tory Government was now struggling for existence, and success
in any contest was of more importance to them. Then, too, all persons of
Tory feelings were far more embittered against me individually than on
the previous occasion; many who had at first been either favourable or
indifferent, were vehemently opposed to my re-election. As I had shown
in my political writings that I was aware of the weak points in
democratic opinions, some Conservatives, it seems, had not been without
hopes of finding me an opponent of democracy: as I was able to see the
Conservative side of the question, they presumed that, like them, I
could not see any other side. Yet if they had really read my writings,
they would have known that after giving full weight to all that appeared
to me well grounded in the arguments against democracy, I unhesitatingly
decided in its favour, while recommending that it should be accompanied
by such institutions as were consistent with its principle and
calculated to ward off its inconveniences: one of the chief of these
remedies being Proportional Representation, on which scarcely any of the
Conservatives gave me any support. Some Tory expectations appear to have
been founded on the approbation I had expressed of plural voting, under
certain conditions: and it has been surmised that the suggestion of this
sort made in one of the resolutions which Mr. Disraeli introduced into
the House preparatory to his Reform Bill (a suggestion which meeting
with no favour, he did not press), may have been occasioned by what I
had written on the point: but if so, it was forgotten that I had made it
an express condition that the privilege of a plurality of votes should
be annexed to education, not to property, and even so, had approved of
it only on the supposition of universal suffrage. How utterly
inadmissible such plural voting would be under the suffrage given by the
present Reform Act, is proved, to any who could otherwise doubt it, by
the very small weight which the working classes are found to possess in
elections, even under the law which gives no more votes to any one
elector than to any other.

While I thus was far more obnoxious to the Tory interest, and to many
Conservative Liberals than I had formerly been, the course I pursued in
Parliament had by no means been such as to make Liberals generally at
all enthusiastic in my support. It has already been mentioned, how large
a proportion of my prominent appearances had been on questions on which
I differed from most of the Liberal party, or about which they cared
little, and how few occasions there had been on which the line I took
was such as could lead them to attach any great value to me as an organ
of their opinions. I had moreover done things which had excited, in many
minds, a personal prejudice against me. Many were offended by what they
called the persecution of Mr. Eyre: and still greater offence was taken
at my sending a subscription to the election expenses of Mr. Bradlaugh.
Having refused to be at any expense for my own election, and having had
all its expenses defrayed by others, I felt under a peculiar obligation
to subscribe in my turn where funds were deficient for candidates whose
election was desirable. I accordingly sent subscriptions to nearly all
the working class candidates, and among others to Mr. Bradlaugh.