Autobiography by John Stuart Mill (classic children's novels .txt) 📕

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