Autobiography by John Stuart Mill (easy books to read txt) 📖
- Author: John Stuart Mill
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between brackets [ ] some fragments are included,
which are not present in all editions, mostly commentaries concerning
Mr. Mill's wife and stepdaughter (Helen Taylor)--an html ed. of this
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CHAPTER I (CHILDHOOD AND EARLY EDUCATION)It seems proper that I should prefix to the following biographical sketch
some mention of the reasons which have made me think it desirable that I
should leave behind me such a memorial of so uneventful a life as mine.
I do not for a moment imagine that any part of what I have to relate can
be interesting to the public as a narrative or as being connected with
myself. But I have thought that in an age in which education and its
improvement are the subject of more, if not of profounder, study than at
any former period of English history, it may be useful that there should
be some record of an education which was unusual and remarkable, and
which, whatever else it may have done, has proved how much more than is
commonly supposed may be taught, and well taught, in those early years
which, in the common modes of what is called instruction, are little
better than wasted. It has also seemed to me that in an age of transition
in opinions, there may be somewhat both of interest and of benefit in
noting the successive phases of any mind which was always pressing forward,
equally ready to learn and to unlearn either from its own thoughts or from
those of others. But a motive which weighs more with me than either of
these, is a desire to make acknowledgment of the debts which my
intellectual and moral development owes to other persons; some of them of
recognised eminence, others less known than they deserve to be, and the
one to whom most of all is due, one whom the world had no opportunity of
knowing. The reader whom these things do not interest, has only himself to
blame if he reads farther, and I do not desire any other indulgence from
him than that of bearing in mind that for him these pages were not written.
I was born in London, on the 20th of May, 1806, and was the eldest son
of James Mill, the author of the _History of British India_. My father,
the son of a petty tradesman and (I believe) small farmer, at Northwater
Bridge, in the county of Angus, was, when a boy, recommended by his
abilities to the notice of Sir John Stuart, of Fettercairn, one of the
Barons of the Exchequer in Scotland, and was, in consequence, sent to
the University of Edinburgh, at the expense of a fund established by
Lady Jane Stuart (the wife of Sir John Stuart) and some other ladies
for educating young men for the Scottish Church. He there went through
the usual course of study, and was licensed as a Preacher, but never
followed the profession; having satisfied himself that he could not
believe the doctrines of that or any other Church. For a few years he
was a private tutor in various families in Scotland, among others that
of the Marquis of Tweeddale, but ended by taking up his residence in
London, and devoting himself to authorship. Nor had he any other means
of support until 1819, when he obtained an appointment in the India House.
In this period of my father's life there are two things which it is
impossible not to be struck with: one of them unfortunately a very
common circumstance, the other a most uncommon one. The first is, that
in his position, with no resource but the precarious one of writing in
periodicals, he married and had a large family; conduct than which
nothing could be more opposed, both as a matter of good sense and of
duty, to the opinions which, at least at a later period of life, he
strenuously upheld. The other circumstance, is the extraordinary
energy which was required to lead the life he led, with the
disadvantages under which he laboured from the first, and with those
which he brought upon himself by his marriage. It would have been no
small thing, had he done no more than to support himself and his
family during so many years by writing, without ever being in debt,
or in any pecuniary difficulty; holding, as he did, opinions, both in
politics and in religion, which were more odious to all persons of
influence, and to the common run of prosperous Englishmen, in that
generation than either before or since; and being not only a man whom
nothing would have induced to write against his convictions, but one
who invariably threw into everything he wrote, as much of his
convictions as he thought the circumstances would in any way permit:
being, it must also be said, one who never did anything negligently;
never undertook any task, literary or other, on which he did not
conscientiously bestow all the labour necessary for performing it
adequately. But he, with these burdens on him, planned, commenced, and
completed, the _History of India_; and this in the course of about ten
years, a shorter time than has been occupied (even by writers who had
no other employment) in the production of almost any other historical
work of equal bulk, and of anything approaching to the same amount of
reading and research. And to this is to be added, that during the
whole period, a considerable part of almost every day was employed in
the instruction of his children: in the case of one of whom, myself,
he exerted an amount of labour, care, and perseverance rarely, if
ever, employed for a similar purpose, in endeavouring to give,
according to his own conception, the highest order of intellectual
education.
A man who, in his own practice, so vigorously acted up to the
principle of losing no time, was likely to adhere to the same rule
in the instruction of his pupil. I have no remembrance of the time
when I began to learn Greek; I have been told that it was when I was
three years old. My earliest recollection on the subject, is that of
committing to memory what my father termed vocables, being lists of
common Greek words, with their signification in English, which he
wrote out for me on cards. Of grammar, until some years later, I
learnt no more than the inflections of the nouns and verbs, but, after
a course of vocables, proceeded at once to translation; and I faintly
remember going through Aesop's _Fables_, the first Greek book which
I read. The _Anabasis_, which I remember better, was the second. I
learnt no Latin until my eighth year. At that time I had read, under
my father's tuition, a number of Greek prose authors, among whom I
remember the whole of Herodotus, and of Xenophon's _Cyropaedia_ and
_Memorials of Socrates_; some of the lives of the philosophers by
Diogenes Laertius; part of Lucian, and Isocrates ad Demonicum and Ad
Nicoclem. I also read, in 1813, the first six dialogues (in the common
arrangement) of Plato, from the Euthyphron to the Theoctetus inclusive:
which last dialogue, I venture to think, would have been better omitted,
as it was totally impossible I should understand it. But my father, in
all his teaching, demanded of me not only the utmost that I could do,
but much that I could by no possibility have done. What he was himself
willing to undergo for the sake of my instruction, may be judged from
the fact, that I went through the whole process of preparing my Greek
lessons in the same room and at the same table at which he was writing:
and as in those days Greek and English lexicons were not, and I could
make no more use of a Greek and Latin lexicon than could be made without
having yet begun to learn Latin, I was forced to have recourse to him
for the meaning of every word which I did not know. This incessant
interruption, he, one of the most impatient of men, submitted to, and
wrote under that interruption several volumes of his History and all
else that he had to write during those years.
The only thing besides Greek, that I learnt as a lesson in this part
of my childhood, was arithmetic: this also my father taught me: it was
the task of the evenings, and I well remember its disagreeableness.
But the lessons were only a part of the daily instruction I received.
Much of it consisted in the books I read by myself, and my father's
discourses to me, chiefly during our walks. From 1810 to the end of
1813 we were living in Newington Green, then an almost rustic
neighbourhood. My father's health required considerable and constant
exercise, and he walked habitually before breakfast, generally in the
green lanes towards Hornsey. In these walks I always accompanied him,
and with my earliest recollections of green fields and wild flowers,
is mingled that of the account I gave him daily of what I had read the
day before. To the best of my remembrance, this was a voluntary rather
than a prescribed exercise. I made notes on slips of paper while
reading, and from these in the morning walks, I told the story to him;
for the books were chiefly histories, of which I read in this manner
a great number: Robertson's histories, Hume, Gibbon; but my greatest
delight, then and for long afterwards, was Watson's _Philip the Second
and Third_. The heroic defence of the Knights of Malta against the
Turks, and of the revolted Provinces of the Netherlands against Spain,
excited in me an intense and lasting interest. Next to Watson, my
favourite historical reading was Hooke's _History of Rome_. Of Greece
I had seen at that time no regular history, except school abridgments
and the last two or three volumes of a translation of Rollin's
_Ancient History_, beginning with Philip of Macedon. But I read with
great delight Langhorne's translation of Plutarch. In English history,
beyond the time at which Hume leaves off, I remember reading Burnet's
_History of his Own Time_, though I cared little for anything in it
except the wars and battles; and the historical part of the _Annual
Register_, from the beginning to about 1788, where the volumes my
father borrowed for me from Mr. Bentham left off. I felt a lively
interest in Frederic of Prussia during his difficulties, and in Paoli,
the Corsican patriot; but when I came to the American War, I took my
part, like a child as I was (until set right by my father) on the
wrong side, because it was called the English side. In these frequent
talks about the books I read, he used, as opportunity offered, to give
me explanations and ideas respecting civilization, government, morality,
mental cultivation, which he required me afterwards to restate to him
in my own words. He also made me read, and give him a verbal account of,
many books which would not have interested me sufficiently to induce me
to read them of myself: among other's Millar's _Historical View of the
English Government_, a book of great merit for its time, and which he
highly valued; Mosheim's _Ecclesiastical History_, McCrie's _Life of
John Knox_, and even Sewell and Rutty's Histories of the Quakers. He was
fond of putting into my hands books which exhibited men of energy and
resource in unusual circumstances, struggling against difficulties and
overcoming them: of such works I remember Beaver's _African Memoranda_,
and Collins's _Account of the First Settlement of New South Wales_.
Two books which I never wearied of reading were Anson's Voyages, so
delightful to most young persons, and a collection (Hawkesworth's, I
believe) of _Voyages round the World_, in four volumes, beginning with
Drake and ending with Cook and Bougainville. Of children's books, any
more than of playthings, I had scarcely any, except an occasional gift
from a relation
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