to speculate on the motives of men's actions. Even at this early period, he was familiarly known under the soubriquet of "the philosopher," and his subsequent life justified the appellation. Whether he attained truth or not, is a matter still undetermined and sub judice; but that he assiduously courted the fair lady for the long period of seventy years, does not admit of reasonable doubt. After remaining five years at Westminster school, he was entered at Queen's college, Oxford, where more Latin and more Greek were crammed into him; but where fortunately he was allowed to wander at his own sweet will, "in the shady places of philosophy." Things went smoothly enough with him till he was about to take his M.A. degree, when the preliminary operation of signing the Thirty-Nine Articles brought him to a stand, as it had done many good and true men before, and as it has done many since, till in our own day the ceremony has been discontinued altogether. He did sign the Articles, but he never ceased to think of his act and deed with great soreness. At Oxford he had the opportunity of attending the course of lectures on the laws of England, that were first delivered in the year 1753, by Sir William Blackstone, and that afterwards attracted an unusual share of attention, when published under the title of Commentaries on the Laws of England. Blackstone continued to repeat the lectures for many years, and he had established for himself a great name by the time that young Bentham attended his prelections. The same "individuality" or independence of spirit as prompted "the philosopher" to examine the Thirty-nine Articles offered for his acceptance before signing them, led him to call in question some of Blackstone's positions, and his first publication was accordingly directed against his teacher in the law. Bentham was dissatisfied with the general drift and tendency of Blackstone's speculations; but he singled out one particular portion for attack, and in an anonymous pamphlet, entitled "A Fragment on Government," he pursued the commentator with as little remorse, as Mr. Cobbett would have shown in hunting out grammatical errors in a king's speech. In this work, Bentham treats,—1. Of the formation of government; 2. Of the forms of government; and, 3. Of the British constitution. Blackstone had called forth various critics before Bentham appeared, and among others, the celebrated Dr. Priestley, who had incidentally spoken of the "greatest happiness of the greatest number," as being the only intelligible rule of government. There was nothing particularly new in the idea. Indeed it may be considered a free translation of the well-known maxim of the Roman law, Salus populi suprema lex. The principle of utility had received the express sanction of Bacon, who had long ago remarked, that "the ultimate object which legislators ought to have in view, and to which all their enactments and sanctions ought to be subservient, is, that the citizens may live happily." Bishop Berkeley, too, seems to have adopted the same view; for in his Discourse addressed to Magistrates and men in authority, he says, "Utility and truth are not to be divided, the general good of mankind being the rule or measure of moral truth." Then again, it is well known that Hume adopted the principle of utility, as the test by which every institution, every law and every course of action must be tried. The merit of discovery cannot, therefore, be claimed for Bentham; but while it can be said only of the others, that they saw the truth and pursued it to some of its consequences, our "philosopher" inscribed it on his banner, and held it aloft in the face of all creation. He took it for his motto, and challenged universal acceptance for it. It need not now be contended that the phrase is altogether unexceptionable; yet it is a good phrase, and in its day, it answered many valuable purposes. The words stick in the memory, and are, so far, intelligible equally to the learned and the ignorant. Statesmen, who had been accustomed to measure all proposals for legislation by the "right of the crown," "the dignity of the peers," or "the church in danger," and other cries of that sort, found themselves checkmated by a cry as easily taken up, and against which, the more they kicked, the less they prevailed. A somewhat analogous maxim has got currency in our own day, "the right man in the right place," and though not very logical in its structure, it has not been altogether useless.
In 1780 Bentham published a still more elaborate exposition of his principles in a work entitled an "Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation," and he devoted a long and a quietly-busy life to the defence and diffusion of what he considered a great discovery in the science of morals and legislation. His earlier works are written in such a style that "he that runs may read," but he got at last into an involved and obscure way of writing, so that if he had not met with interpreters between him and the people, he might as well not have written at all. To Mons. Dumont—a refugee from Geneva—he was indebted for giving shape and coherence to many of his scattered speculations, and translating them into elegant French; so that the recluse of Queen Square Place, Westminster, was earlier and better known on the continent than in England. He had a proof of this when, on the occasion of a visit to Paris in 1825, for the benefit of his health, he happened to step into one of the supreme courts. The whole body of advocates rose to receive him, and the judges invited him to the seat of honour. At this time he had few followers at home, but those he had were men of no ordinary mark. First among the band stood Mr. James Mill, who did much to popularize the philosophy of Bentham; Dr. Southwood Smith and Dr. John Bowring also attached themselves to Bentham, and exerted themselves to spread the honour of his name. At a still earlier period Sir Samuel Romilly and Mr. (now Lord) Brougham sat at the feet of the recluse of Queen Square. In the mitigation of the criminal code, in parliamentary and municipal reform, in the abolition of oaths, in the reduction of the taxes on knowledge, and in all the other measures which modern legislation has accomplished, the name of Jeremy Bentham is honourably associated with the names of the foremost men of the age. His works were edited after his death by Dr. Bowring and Mr. John H. Burton, and they occupy eleven closely-printed octavo volumes. They will never be easy reading, but the student of political science will often turn to them for instruction and guidance. Bentham has not succeeded in founding a school, but it is not therefore to be inferred that his influence was little, or that it will be fleeting.
As to the outward incidents of Bentham's life, little need be said in addition to the facts we have already recorded. He was intended for the law; but he seems to have been of too delicate a conscience to practise it with all the moral abominations then adhering to it, and he retired to literature and comparative privacy. In 1785 he visited Paris, Italy, Constantinople, and spent some time with his brother, Sir Samuel Bentham, in the South of Russia; he returned through Poland, Germany, and Holland, arriving in England—we can well believe, "a sadder if a wiser man"—in the spring of 1788. He continued to write and talk to his disciples for the long period of half a century, and it was not till 1832—a year conspicuously fatal to great men—that he was gathered, in a good old age, to his fathers. Sir James Mackintosh, though no disciple of Bentham, did him ample justice in his Preliminary Dissertation, and we gladly enrich this notice with an extract:—"It cannot be denied, without injustice and ingratitude, that Mr. Bentham has done more than any other writer to rouse the spirit of juridical reformation, which is now gradually examining every part of law, and, when further progress is facilitated, by digesting the present laws, will doubtless proceed to the improvement of all. Greater praise it is given to few to earn."
No nobler epitaph than this need have been inscribed on Bentham's tomb, if he had ever had one; but as he was rather peculiar in his ways, while living, so in death his oddity did not depart from him. He left instructions that his body should be dissected, and that the skeleton should be put together, and, after being clothed in his old vestments, should be seated in a sort of glass-house on wheels. The old man, it is said, used to amuse himself with the vision of his presiding as it were in propria persona at meetings of his disciples—who were of course to be numerous and powerful—and even being wheeled to the top of the table on festive occasions. This work of art is now, we believe, in the possession of his faithful and accomplished disciple, Dr. Southwood Smith; but when he is gone, we doubt if any one will be ambitious to give it house-room, and yet it would be a melancholy sight to see the "mortal remains" of Jeremy consigned to the care of a marine store-dealer. The sight of Yorick's skull, the king's jester, knocked about by a sexton's spade, is calculated to excite serious reflections; but the idea of the skeleton of Bentham—clothed "as we have seen him in his life"—ticketed for sale, is too painful a thought to be dwelt on. If Dr. Johnson could have foreseen the thing, supposing it be in futuro, it would have given him genuine satisfaction to convert it into an instance illustrating The Vanity of Human Wishes. We are not aware that Johnson and Bentham ever met; but if
