of suicides, of murderers, of thieves and criminals of various kinds,
cannot be accounted for in any other way than by the hypothesis that
like circumstances will produce like conduct. So, too, in this way only
can we account for such a fact as the steadiness in the proportion of
men who enter any given profession, of men who quit their country for
another, of men who remain unmarried all their lives, of men who enter a
university, of men who make any particular choice (such as these) which
can be tested by figures. Now, this argument is unanswerable as far as
it goes; but it succeeds, like all the other arguments for the
uniformity of nature, in establishing the generality, and not at all the
universality of that uniformity. Indeed, it falls far short of proving
as much uniformity in human action as is proved in the action of
inanimate things. The induction which proves the uniformity of the laws
of mechanics, of chemistry, of physics, is so far greater than the
induction which proves the uniformity of human conduct, that it is
hardly possible to put the two side by side. When we turn from abstract
arguments to facts, the doctrine of necessity is unquestionably
unproven.

And this agrees with the result of a careful examination of the facts of
human consciousness from the opposite point of view. We cannot but
acknowledge that when we look very closely we find a very large
proportion of our own actions to be by no means the result of an
interference by the will. A large proportion is due to custom; a large
proportion to inclination, of which the will takes no special notice,
and is not called on by the conscience to notice; a large proportion to
inclinations which we know that we ought to resist, but we do not
resist; a much smaller proportion, but still some, to passions and
appetites against which we have striven in vain; only a very small
proportion to deliberate choice. There is, in fact, no irresistible