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of Cromwell by making an onslaught on the obnoxious devotees of antiquated law and out-of-date administration. The duke replied in his own hand, and good-humouredly accepted a reproof from the vigilant critic in regard to the duel with Lord Winchilsea." Bentham also communicated with O'Connell who, in speaking of legal abuses in 1828, described himself “an humble disciple of the immortal Bentham.” ” Soon closer relations were established between them, and we find Bentham addressing “the liberator" in his letters as “Dan, dear child.” With Brougham, as with Romilly, Bentham was on intimate terms, and with both of them he came to be disappointed—in the case of Romilly, at all events, with little reason. Romilly's views were not in complete harmony with those of the utilitarian philosopher, and his temperament was not sufficiently flexible and amenable to satisfy the demands of the arch-reformer. Brougham visited Bentham in 1812, and was looked upon as a disciple who would soon eclipse the parliamentary brilliance of Romilly. Frequent communications afterwards took place between them. In 1827, when Bentham heard that Brougham was about to introduce proposals for law reform in the House of Commons, he offered his disciple views on evidence, the judiciary, and codification, in the form of “some nice little sweet pap of my own making,” for which Brougham thanked his “dear grandpapa,” informing him that he was “already fat on it.” Then Bentham offered further supplies to his “dear, sweet little poppet.” ” But when the orator—the cherished fosterling of the utilitarian parent— had soon afterwards made his speech, Bentham said that the mountain had been delivered of a mouse. He concluded that Brougham was “not the man to set up " simple and rational principles, and that whilst pretending to be an opponent of Peel, he was really his accomplice." In 1830 Bentham was obliged to hold up to his erring proselyte this same “Master Peel ” as a “model good boy,” and to tell him that he needed a dose of “jalap" instead of “pap,” as he could not even spell properly “the greatest happiness principle.” “ In September 1831 Brougham (who had become Lord Chancellor the year before) announced a scheme for effecting some improvements in the courts. But this did not satisfy Bentham who, in his last pamphlet Lord Brougham displayed," deplored that his disciple had “stretched out the right hand of fellowship to jobbers of all sorts,” and had adopted only such principles as served his own vanity. Bentham's relationships with the United States are also noteworthy. In 1811 he offered his services to James Madison, then president, to construct a “Pannomion,” or complete code, for the use of the United States. In 1817 he repeated the offer to Madison, and made a similar proposal to the Governor of Pennsylvania. With John Quincy Adams, who was then American ambassador in England, he had many conversations on the subject. In Louisiana, Edward Livingston, an avowed disciple of the new utilitarianism, systematised the civil code (1823–4), and afterwards completed his penal code; for which he acknowledged his indebtedness to Bentham. In 1830, in a presidential message of General Jackson the work of the eminent English reformer was referred to. On the Continent, too, Benthamite conceptions spread, and nations sought his advice, which he was always ready to give. In 1809 the Emperor of Russia employed Dumont in some work of codification, and in 1817 Geneva engaged him for the same purpose. Dumont could not fail to import into his code of penal law and prison regulations a whole body of his master's doctrines.” In 1820 and 1821 Bentham was consulted by the constitutional party in Spain and Portugal, and he at once produced elaborate tracts for their enlightenment. In 1822–3 he pointed out to the Government of Tripoli the way in which they should go. In 1823 and 1824 he was a member of the Greek committee, and corresponded with Mavrocordato and other leaders. In April 1824 appeared the Westminster Review, which Bentham established (at his own expense) as a radical organ, in order to make head against the Edinburgh (the review of the whigs), and the Quarterly (that of the tories). Among the early contributors were James Mill, J. S. Mill, Austin, Grote, Bowring, Bingham, Fonblanque, Roebuck, Graham, and E. Tooke. His correspondence with distinguished people, and his appeals and offers to nations regarding his favourite subject, codification, were supplemented by his publications thereon. After the appearance of his Codification Proposal came the Leading principles of a constitutional code for any state * (1823). In 1827 was printed the first volume of his Constitutional Code, and another volume in 1830. The gigantic work occupied his attention till almost the day before his death. It was not published in its entirety till 1841. This production, which exercised a great influence in many countries, has been considered the most comprehensive and the most mature of his writings. Unfortunately the ponderous style and the overwhelming mass of not very interesting details almost obscure the luminous suggestions lavishly scattered. This unpleasing, diffuse, complicated style is confined almost entirely to his later works. His earlier writings, say, those composed before the first decade of the nineteenth century was over, are, on the contrary, marked by a simplicity, vivacity, terseness, and directness of style that would not have put to shame the best prose masters of the eighteenth century. Apparently determined —whether unconsciously or deliberately it is difficult to say— to be original in manner as well as in matter, and persuaded that the form and tone of his propagandist work, his analytic criticisms, and his schemes of legislative reform should be scientific rather than “literary,” he invented terms and expressions, simple and compound—a good many of them infelicitous, even unsightly, which would terrify a skilled etymologist—he spun out innumerable parentheses, made wearisome reiterations, and drew out his sentences to a breathless length. But occasionally, however, we also find sudden flashes of his earlier brilliance; which remind us that the hand still possessed something of its former cunning, if only it were not compelled to be the slave of a wayward mind. A didactic treatise, he thought, should sacrifice every other stylistic virtue to the essentials of exactness and completeness; and to attain this end he endeavoured to force the various qualifying clauses within the limits of the particular sentence to which they related. He was fond of what he called the “substantivepreferring principle "; * so that he would employ the abstract form, “I give extension to an object,” rather than the concrete “I extend an object.” Where a substantive is used, he thought, the idea is “stationed upon a rock”; if only a verb, the idea is “like a leaf floating on a stream,”—for a verb “slips through your fingers like an eel.” ” Amongst his numerous neologisms, there are some, however, that have taken a permanent place in the language, and are certainly indispensable acquisitions, e.g. “codify,” “minimise,” “international,” and several others. As for the less desirable attributes of his later manner of expression, it is curious that he who had so unsparingly ridiculed the laboured technical style—the “surplusage,” the “involvedness,” the “lengthiness”—of lawyers and legislators (who, presumably, maintained it in their tacit conspiracy for purposes of corruption), had eventually fallen himself into a style just as laboured and just as unbeautiful. He realised that his diction was different from that of other writers, and no doubt was proud of it, and as impatient of aspersions cast on it as he was when his views were questioned. When Francis Place, the radical reformer, who was a disciple and a great admirer of Bentham, once wrote to James Mill of his master's difficult phraseology, Mill replied: “There is no one thing upon which he plumes himself so much as his style, and he would not alter it if all the world were to preach to him till Domesday.” " To conclude now the catalogue of his writings and the brief chronicle of his life. In 1824 appeared Indications respecting Lord Eldon,” which had been written earlier. The author insisted on publishing it, despite the anxious warning of friends who were certain that prosecution would follow. The tract is a vigorous, pungent, unsparing attack on the Lord Chancellor's methods of delaying suits, and on the gross abuses prevailing in the Chancery and King's Bench offices, such as the exaction of fees for services never rendered, the creation of sinecures, the frequent absence of higher officials receiving large salaries. (The fortune of over half a million left by Eldon at his death in 1818 shows that he knew how to look after his own interests.) In 1825 he went to Paris to consult a physician as to the treatment of a skin affection from which he was then suffering. He then met again his old friend Lafayette, and was much gratified at the hearty welcome accorded to him in the French capital. It is related that on one occasion as he entered the courts of justice, the whole bar rose to receive him, and the President insisted that the celebrated English “jurisconsulte " should take the seat of honour at his right hand.” In 1829 he produced his Justice and Codification Petitions,” and in the following year published a series of letters on the sale of public offices, a practice which he thought would probably turn out an advantage; though the reasons advanced by him are hardly convincing. At this time he gave his attention to international law, which he intended to codify systematically; but he left no finished work on the subject. In 1831 he was considering the art of framing laws, and his speculations thereon are contained in his Pannomical Fragments." In 1830, on the outbreak of the revolution in France, Bentham administered some good advice to the state that had made him a citizen nearly forty years before. And to the very last he maintained his interest in the political and legislative developments in France, and his relationships with some of the leading figures in that country. In 1832—at the age of eighty-four, and in the year of his death—he entertained Talleyrand, with whom he had discussed his Panopticon scheme some forty years earlier. He was even more fully alive to the political excitements at home, notwithstanding his advanced age. In 1831 he was busy with the formation of a Parliamentary Candidate Society; and his recommendations of candidates for election indicate more his extreme cosmopolitanism than his electoral wisdom. Not long before the death of Romilly in 1818, Bentham had suddenly become dissatisfied with his friend's views and political activity, and actually wrote in favour of an opponent obviously far inferior in capacity and worth. And now, when he was old enough to know better, he was especially desirous of securing the nomination not only of Rammohun (Ram Mohan) Roy, the Hindoo religious reformer, but also of a half-caste and a negro. Of course, anyone he sought to return to the House of Commons he was prepared —with perfect consistency—to welcome in his own house. “I should like,” he declared, “to invite a Yankee and a negro, a lord and a beggar to my table.” Anybody whatever would apparently be more acceptable in his eyes than those dreadful objects of his rancour and contempt, “the hirelings of the law—purchasable male prostitutes,” who became worse (he said) the higher they rose, and were surely beyond redemption On June 6, 1832—shortly before the passing of the great measure which signalises the advent of Benthamism in full force—Bentham died at Queen's Square Place. In his will he directed his body to be dissected, in the presence of his friends, for the benefit of mankind. An incision was formally made; and clothed in his customary attire, his skeleton, supporting a waxen effigy of his head, was placed in the anatomical museum, University College, London.

* Works, vol. xi, pp. 13, 28. * Vol. x, p. 594. * Ibid., p. 576. “Ibid., p. 588. * Vol. xi, p. 37. * Vol. v., p. 549.

* Ibid., p. 609, * Cf, vol. iv, pp. 451-594. * Vol. ii, pp. 267–274.

* Works, vol. ix. * Vol. iii, p. 267. * Vol. x, p. 569,

* G. Wallas, Life of Francis Place (London, 1898), p. 85. * Works, vol. v., pp. 348–382. * Vol. x, p. 551. * Vol. v., pp. 437-548. K

* Works, vol. iii, pp. 211-230.

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