an almost fatuous confidence in his own opinions, and in the deference of his readers, who fancies he can dispose of the whole of this by saying it merely expresses the Principle of Caprice.

The same note contains another very curious example of the incredible confidence in himself, and carelessness of what was urged by others, with which Bentham disposed of doctrines which he rejected. He says that many maxims of law have derived their authority merely from the love of jingle— which he further illustrates by some laborious pleasantry about Orpheus and Themis: and he gives, as his examples, Delegatus non potest delegare, and Servitus Servitutis non datur.

I may notice, too, as examples of the boldness for which we must be prepared in dealing with his doctrines, the imperious manner in which he rejects and alters the significations of words. Thus, in illustrating the Principle of Antipathy (§ xiv. note), he says that it is on this principle that certain acts are reprobated, as being unnatural-for instance the practice of exposing children. No, he says, this language is not to be allowed. Unnatural, when it means anything, means unfrequent; and here it is not the unfrequency, but the frequency of the act of which you complain. It is curious that he should have thought he could prevent men from calling, as they use to do, acts unnatural, which are contrary to those natural and universal feelings which all men recognize as the proper guides of life. But that was precisely the ground of his displeasure with the word. It recognized, in parental affection, a natural and acknowledged guide of human action; and this recognition was to be contradicted. This however leads us to the doctrines themselves, which we are not here discussing.

At a later period Bentham became quite wanton and reckless in his innovations in language; but even at the

period which we are now considering, that of the publication of the Introduction, he altered the signification of many words in a very arbitrary manner; a manner for which we ought to be prepared in reading him. Thus, in estimating pleasures, he speaks of their purity as one element of their value but by this he does not mean their freedom from grossness for he acknowledges no value in this kind of purity, and no evil in grossness: his purity is the freedom of pleasure from the mixture of pain.

Again he says, (c. v. i.) “Pains and pleasures may be called by one word, interesting perceptions:" which they may, only if we disregard the ordinary meaning of the word.

I might point out, as examples of Bentham's self-complacent boldness, his extraordinary misstatements with regard to the classical languages and their literature; for instance, his ascribing the doctrine of the four cardinal virtues to Aristotle; and the equally extraordinary confusion which prevails in his attempt to arrange the sciences, a confusion which necessarily resulted from his complete ignorance of the subject. But it is our more special business to regard him as a moralist.

In considering Bentham's system of Morality, I by no means wish to make it my sole business to point out the errors and defects of it. On the contrary, it will be very important to my purpose to show what amount of truth there resides in it; since by so doing, I shall both account for the extensive acceptance which it has found, and shall be advancing towards that system which contains all that is true in all preceding systems: and that is plainly the system at which we of this day ought to aim.

Of Bentham's system, indeed, we have in a great measure spoken, in speaking of Paley's: for as I have said, the two systems are in principle the same; and the assertions

of Bentham's followers as to the great difference of the two systems, vanish on examination. The basis of Paley's scheme is Utility:-Utility for the promotion of Human Happiness. Human Happiness is composed of Pleasures :Pleasures are to be estimated by their Intensity and Duration. All this Paley has. Has Bentham anything more? He has nothing more which is essential in the scheme of Morality, so far as this groundwork goes. For though in enumerating the elements in the estimate of pleasures, Bentham adds to Intensity and Duration, others, as Certainty, Propinquity, Fecundity, Purity (in the sense which I have spoken of); these do not much alter the broad features of the scheme. But undoubtedly Bentham attempts to build upon this groundwork more systematically than Paley does. If there is to be a Morality erected on such a basis as that just described, the pleasures (and the pains as well) which are the guides and governors of human action must be enumerated, classed, weighed and measured. It is by determining the value of a lot of pleasure (the phrase is Bentham's) resulting from an act, that the moral value of an act is known, in this system. We must therefore have all the pleasures which man can feel, passed in review; and all the ways in which these pleasures can increase or diminish by human actions. This done, we shall be prepared to pass judgment on human actions, and to assign to each its rank and value in the moral scale; its title to reward or punishment on these principles.

Can this be done? Has Bentham done this? If he has, is it not really a valuable task performed? These questions naturally occur.

In reply, I may say that the task would undoubtedly be a valuable one, if it were possible; but that, so far as the moral value of actions is concerned, it is not possible, for reasons which I will shortly state; that even for the appropriation of punishment in the construction of laws,—the

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purpose for which the author mainly intended it,-it is far from completely executed, or perhaps capable of being completely executed; but that the attempt to execute it in a complete and systematic manner, over the whole field of human action, led to many useful and important remarks on schemes of law and of punishment; and that these, along with the air of system, which has always a great effect upon men, not unnaturally won for Bentham great attention, and even gave a sort of ascendancy to the rough and distorting pleasantry which he exercised towards opponents. I may afterwards speak of his merits as a jural and political philosopher, but I must first explain why, as I conceive, his mode of estimating the moral value of actions cannot suffice for the purposes of Morality.

Let it be taken for granted, as a proposition which is true, if the terms which it involves be duly understood, that actions are right and virtuous in proportion as they promote the happiness of mankind; the actions being considered upon the whole, and with regard to all their consequences. Still, I say, we cannot make this truth the basis of morality, for two reasons: first, we cannot calculate all the consequences of any action, and thus cannot estimate the degree in which it promotes human happiness;-second, happiness is derived from moral elements, and therefore we cannot properly derive morality from happiness. The calculable happiness resulting from actions cannot determine their virtue; first, because the resulting happiness is not calculable; and secondly, because the virtue is one of the things which determines the resulting happiness.

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These assertions are, I think, tolerably evident of themselves; but we may dwell upon them a little longer. First, say the amount of happiness resulting from any action is not calculable. If we ask whether a given action will increase or diminish the total amount of human happiness,

it is impossible to answer with any degree of certainty. Take ordinary cases. I am tempted to utter a flattering falsehood to gratify some sensual desire contrary to ordinary moral rules. How shall I determine, on the greatest happiness principle, whether the act is virtuous or the contrary? In the first place, the direct effect of each act is to give pleasure, to another by flattery, to myself by sensual gratification: and pleasure is the material of happiness, in the scheme we are now considering. But by the flattering lie, I promote falsehood, which is destructive of confidence, and so, of human comfort. Granted that I do this, in some degree,— although I may easily say, that I shall never allow myself to speak falsely, except when it will give pleasure, and thus, I may maintain that I shall not shake confidence in any case in which it is of any value; but granted that I do in some degree shake the general fabric of mutual human confidence, by my flattering lie,—still the question remains, how much I do this; whether in such a degree as to overbalance the pleasure, which is the primary and direct consequence of the act. How small must be the effect of my solitary act upon the whole scheme of human action and habit! how clear and decided is the direct effect of increasing the happiness of my hearer ! And in the same way we may reason concerning the sensual gratification. The pleasure is evident and certain; the effect on other men's habits obscure and uncertain. Who will know it? Who will be influenced by it of those who do know it? What appreciable amount of pain will it produce in its consequences, to balance the palpable pleasure, which, according to our teachers, is the only real good? It appears to me that it is impossible to answer these questions in any way which will prove, on these principles, mendacious flattery, and illegitimate sensuality, to be vicious and immoral. They may possibly produce, take in all their effects, a balance