ENGL 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL
 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE 
 
 7AY a PORTE 
 
 COKO-HXND BOOK 
 
 30 SIDNEY ST. .CAMBRIC!
 
 // 
 
 /tjg,
 
 Dtctoda 
 
 1899. 
 
 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHICAL STYLES; 
 
 (SIX STUDIES.) 
 An Essay for which the John Bright Scholarship was awarded in 1897. 
 
 WILSON STUART, 
 
 "/ ' 
 
 M.A. & B.Sc. (VicT.)- 
 
 Philosophia simnlari potest, eloquentia non potest. (QuiNCT.) 
 
 MANCHESTER : 
 
 J. E. CORNISH, 16, ST. ANN'S SQUARE. 
 1899.
 
 EH2I
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 NOTE 4 
 
 I. FRANCIS BACON (15601626) 5 
 
 II. THOMAS HOBBES (15881679) 24 
 
 III. JOHN LOCKE (16321704) 40 
 
 IV. GEORGE BERKELEY (1685 1753) 57 
 
 V. DAVID HUME (17111776) 73 
 
 VI. JOHN STUART MILL (18061873) 90
 
 NOTE. 
 
 THE John Bright Scholarship was founded (mainly out of the 
 surplus of the subscriptions to the Eochdale statue of the late Mr. 
 Bright) for the encouragement of the study of English Literature in 
 the Victoria University. It is awarded biennially for a book or essay 
 on some subject directly connected with the study of English Litera- 
 ture, and its value is 100. The candidates must be persons who 
 have obtained the Degree of B.A. in the University, and have not 
 completed more than two years from the date of the examination 
 qualifying them for the B.A. Degree. They must also have attended 
 at least one year's full course of lectures on English Literature in a 
 College of the University. A number of alternative subjects are set 
 for candidates to select from. The other conditions of the Scholarship 
 can be seen in the Victoria University Calendar (1899, p. 172). 
 
 The Scholarship in 1897 was awarded to an Essay by the present 
 writer on " English Philosophical Styles," and the Essay was 
 recommended by the Adjudicators to the University for publication. 
 The substance of it appears here under the original title, restricted 
 by the phrase, " Six Studies." The writer found it impossible to 
 exhaust the subject included under the original comprehensive title. 
 It was thought better, therefore, to select so many of the names in 
 English Philosophical literature as could be dealt with in the form of 
 studies within a space about equal to that filled by the Prize Essay. 
 This has meant omitting several writers of great importance Butler, 
 Hamilton, Mr. Herbert Spencer who were considered at some length 
 in the original Essay ; and remarks on minor writers have been 
 excluded. The need of the Introduction, which was taken up largely 
 with a consideration of the scope of the subject, has been obviated by 
 limiting the title. Some recasting has been necessary, in order to 
 adapt the writing to the form of independent sections ; but the original 
 lent itself to this treatment. The extracts are almost entirely the 
 same, and much of the composition is as it was.
 
 I. 
 Francis Bacon. 
 
 LOBD BACON was one of the leading actors in English History, and 
 one of the greatest masters of the English tongue. He is known as the 
 father of modern thought ; he is certainly the father of modern philo- 
 sophical literature, for he is the first great writer of philosophy in the 
 modern spirit and in a modern language. 1 Before the time of Bacon, 
 English civilization had not been of the sort to produce an indigenous 
 philosophy. Though during the Middle Ages there had been multi- 
 tudes of students in the Universities of Europe saturating themselves 
 with the old Aristotelian doctrines, a more barren time for producing 
 philosophical literature and native systems of thought cannot be 
 imagined. Men seemed to await a Bacon who could sweep aside the 
 methods of antiquity, and declare a new era to have opened for the 
 human race. To appreciate the gigantic intellect that put itself 
 athwart the world's thought and knowledge has proved one of the 
 absorbing tasks of that posterity to whom Lord Bacon bequeathed his 
 name and fame. To judge the character and to estimate the philo- 
 sophy of Bacon are two of the knottiest problems of biography and of 
 the history of thought respectively. But the true secret of his great- 
 ness lies neither in his moral character nor in the particular ideas that 
 he evolved, but rather in his spirit and in his style. And the inspira- 
 tion is in the style, because that is the very countenance and expression 
 of the great spirit within. " He had that mysterious gift to which M. 
 " Charles de Remusat assigns the first place among the causes of his 
 " influence in the world the quality which he calls greatness, and 
 " supposes to reside rather in the manner than in the thought." 2 Bacon 
 
 1 Descartes did not publish his Discours de la Methods until 1637, while Bacon's 
 Advancement of Learning is dated 1605, and the Novum Organum 1620. 
 
 * Ellis and Spedding's Ed. of Bacon's Works, Vol. VII. (Life), pp. 574-5. 
 
 \
 
 6 Francis Bacon. 
 
 did not elaborate a system, he formulated a method. The conception 
 of that method was the work of genius, but its theoretical and practical 
 worth does not explain Bacon's unparalleled influence over the modern 
 world. No doubt, ideas were all-essential, but how comparatively few 
 and simple were the instruments of his achievements ! Bacon's 
 formulas have become curiosities, but the spirit that animated his 
 whole enterprise has rendered his work immortal. As it has been well 
 put, "Though this [Method], the favourite child of Bacon's genius 
 " which he would fain have made heir of all he had, died thus in the 
 " cradle, his genius itself still lives and works among us." 1 It is not so 
 much Bacon's philosophy as his philosophical style using that term in 
 its broadest sense that is the secret of his power. It is the pervading 
 influence of a majestic yet simple and earnest spirit that has made his 
 writings one of the most powerful inspirations of the modern world, 
 its science and its letters. Bacon's work was the result of marvellous 
 confidence in, and reliance upon the powers of man, combined with a 
 becoming humility in the presence of nature's forces and nature's 
 secrets. The confidence and humility, dignity and reverence, that 
 formed the unique spirit of Bacon were of such a character that in him 
 each attained the very acme of its own perfection. It is impossible to 
 say that either was the more essential quality for his work. Few 
 human beings can have been endowed with more confidence and 
 buoyant hope than Bacon ; yet his message to the world was, that the 
 secret for the attainment of true knowledge is humility of spirit. 
 
 Scholasticism may be said to have failed through an overweening 
 confidence in the capacity of man's unaided intellect and by the want 
 of self-abnegation in the approach to nature. Man had attained to 
 civilization and to arts ; he had organized societies, instituted laws and 
 erected systems of knowledge all after his own ideas. And as life 
 became artificial, man to some extent forgot that he was of nature, and 
 treated with careless indifference the teachings of Nature herself. This 
 could not be among those children of nature, the Greeks ; but in the 
 Middle Ages it was the curse that produced barrenness. But after 
 centuries of man's legislating for nature and evolving out of the recesses 
 of his own reason systems to determine what it was fit for Nature to be 
 and to perform, the force of facts began to bear it in upon men's minds 
 that Nature goes her own way and that the facts of existence are not 
 
 i Ibid., Vol. III., p. 171.
 
 Francis Bacon. 7 
 
 to be anticipated by the ideas of man. There began to dawn here and 
 there the scientific consciousness ; men endowed with the instinct of 
 science learned the lesson of humility of spirit in the presence of Nature : 
 patient investigators like Galileo, Harvey, and Gilbert made themselves 
 her willing slaves and, in turn, were entrusted with her secrets. But 
 these men, though born discoverers and possessed of ingenious minds, 
 were not fitted to head a great intellectual movement. Their work 
 was to some extent secret, ashamed of itself, overshadowed and cowed 
 by enthroned systems. They had not that breadth of intellectual 
 vision, that splendid, daring confidence which was necessary for the 
 formulation of new methods of knowledge and for the inauguration of 
 a new scientific era. Their investigations were carried out in deep 
 humility, but they themselves lacked the greatness of spirit necessary 
 for the vindication of their calling against the appearance of pettiness 
 and servility. No doubt the physical researches of such men indicated 
 an intellectual awakening that could not brook the bondage of false 
 systems however august ; but particular contradictions of the dogmatic 
 assertions of antiquity could not be appreciated in their full import by 
 the mass of men. Nay, the full meaning of the discoveries and of the 
 methods by which they were made, was not apprehended by the dis- 
 coverers themselves : they worked instinctively. There had, indeed, 
 from time to time appeared men with a broader and more philosophic 
 cast of mind than the ordinary physical investigator, who had rebelled 
 against the tyranny of an antiquated system. But their influence was 
 comparatively feeble ; the times were not ready ; and they were so far 
 
 from revolutionizing the world's thought that they themselves were 
 
 fc. 
 
 fi. 
 
 broken against the stubborn, solid wall of Scholasticism. Bruno and 
 
 Campanella were such. The effete, archaic mass of Scholastic dogma, 
 though secretly undermined by the modern spirit, was still bolstered up 
 by the tradition, authority, and prestige of the learned and the powerful 
 in Church and State. No feeble weapons of the diffident, cramped 
 specialist could avail. What was needed at this juncture was an 
 intellect of sufficient magnitude and grasp to generalise into principles 
 the new way of knowledge, a man with the inspiration and enthusiasm 
 that comes from realising the unbounded possibilities of human know- 
 ledge and of human progress ; there was needed the boldness, the 
 ambition, the undaunted hope and courage of a great leader of men, 
 organiser of enterprise, director of new energies, commander of new 
 movements ; there must be the dignity and confidence of one, who
 
 8 Francis Bacon. 
 
 with lordly pomp and imperiousness of manner could sweep aside a 
 massive and formerly influential system as obsolete, and \vho, by 
 his whole-hearted support, could strengthen the efforts of humble 
 investigators. Bacon was the man and the only man who, by his 
 greatness of spirit, compass of thought, instinctive appreciation of the 
 new movement, command of language in which to express the new 
 ideas, impressiveness of rhetoric, magnificence of manner, and unique 
 position for gaining an audience both in England and on the Continent, 
 was fitted to represent the greatness of the new Kingdom of Man over 
 nature, and to command, by words that could not be ignored, the 
 attention of the world at large to the revolution of thought that was 
 taking place. 
 
 Bacon's mature plan for his philosophical exposition was to compose 
 his works as the several parts of an Instauratio Magna. The dimen- 
 sions of the work and the spirit in which it was undertaken are 
 indicated in the Prefatio and the Distributio Operis, which were 
 prefixed to the Novum Organum. The Instauratio is to be divided 
 into six parts. These may be described briefly in the words of Mr. 
 Ellis. " The first is to contain a general survey of the present state of 
 " knowledge. In the second men are to be taught how to use their 
 " understanding aright in the investigation of Nature. In the third all 
 " the phenomena of the universe are to be stored up as in a treasure- 
 " house, as the materials on which the new method is to be employed. 
 tl In the fourth examples are to be given of its operation and of the 
 " results to which it leads. The fifth is to contain what Bacon had 
 " accomplished in natural philosophy without the aid of his own 
 41 method . . . It is therefore less important than the rest, . 
 " Moreover its value will altogether cease when the sixth part can be 
 41 completed, wherein will be set forth the new philosophy the result of 
 " the application of the new method to all the phenomena of the universe. 
 " But to complete this, the last part of the Instauratio, Bacon does not 
 41 hope ; he speaks of it as a thing ' et supra vires et ultra spes nostras 
 " collocata.' " 1 Indeed, of these six parts only the first two attained to 
 anything like completion. The instalments that came out under Part 
 Three deal with the natural history of phenomena and are unimportant 
 for Bacon's general philosophy. The formal members of the Instauratio 
 are in Latin : Part I. being represented by the De Augmentis 
 Scientiarum and Part II. by the Novum Organum. 
 
 1 R. L. Ellis, Preface to Novum Organum, Bacon's Works, Vol. I., p. 71.
 
 Frcuicis Bacon. 9 
 
 Since Bacon broke so completely with the past in aim and spirit, 
 we are surprised that he should have taken to the old Latin language to 
 express himself ; and as all his ideas hear the stamp of the new age, it 
 is remarkable that he should have succeeded in making them current 
 in an antiquated tongue. If Bacon had been a Scholastic we could 
 have understood his preference for Latin, but there must be some very 
 weighty reason to account for the fact that the man, whose position is 
 due to his innovations, chooses to connect himself with that vain 
 mediaeval philosophy by employing its language, w r hen he might have 
 completed the severance by using English solely. 
 
 There appear to have been two reasons for this clinging to antiquity 
 in the matter of language. First and foremost, he was confident that 
 his was a great work, not for one generation or one nation merely, but 
 a work that would revolutionize the world's thought and discoveries : 
 he must therefore have a world's language in which to deposit it. He 
 had no confidence (and he tells us so), in English as being stable 
 enough to be entrusted with what he regards as the world's future 
 handbook of rules and principles for science and philosophy. The fact 
 is that he had infinitely more confidence in his own philosophy than in 
 tb.3 English language as its vehicle. English was good enough for 
 most books that had hitherto been written in it ; the drama and 
 ephemeral polemics might be entrusted to it ; but for a great system of 
 philosophy he regarded it with suspicion, as untrustworthy and untried. 
 Moreover, English appealed to comparatively few philosophers and 
 scientists. Bacon, therefore, chose the universal language of science 
 and law to proclaim universal knowledge and promulgate " a great 
 piece of philosophical legislation." 
 
 Secondly, there is such elevation, grandeur, dignity, and lordly 
 breadth in his conception that Bacon instinctively used Latin for his 
 most completed expression. The state and pomp of Latin is suggested 
 as natural by the very roll of his sentences and the grandeur of his 
 thought. Still, in its native purity, Latin is unsuited to philosophical 
 abstractions and metaphysical subtlety. The success which Bacon 
 achieved is due to the fact that the Latin he uses is Scholastic in 
 vocabulary and construction, and retains his own characteristic 
 English style. The genius of the Latin tongue was for the concrete, 
 not the abstract. Its avoidance of even simple abstractions made it 
 especially inappropriate for Bacon, who gained great clearness and 
 emphasis by the constant use of abstract substantives, with genitives
 
 10 Francis Bacon. 
 
 following, in preference to qualifying adjectives. The annexed will 
 illustrate this style: 
 
 "... the largeness of your capacity, the faithfulness of 
 " your memory, the swiftness of your apprehension, the penetration 
 " of your judgment, and the facility and order of your elocution. " 1 
 " The derogations therefore which grow to learning from the 
 " fortune or condition of learned men, are either in respect of 
 " scarcity of means, or in respect of privateness of life and mean- 
 " ness of employment." 2 
 
 Greek philosophical writing was often ambiguous and inexact prior 
 to Aristotle's invention of an abstract terminology, which, however, he 
 accomplished only by doing violence to the genius of the Greek 
 language, just as Latin was inadequate until Scholasticism improved 
 and at the same time spoiled it. Plato often struggles in vain to 
 portray, by his ingenuity and imaginative power, his views on his own 
 " Theory of Ideas," while Aristotle was able to put the case exactly by 
 the invention of the technical abstract terms of Logic. Bacon did not 
 realize the inadequacy and unsuitableness of Latin for the new 
 thoughts and spirit. For its elasticity, directness, and naturalness, he 
 instinctively wrote in English ; for its universal currency, its dignity, 
 and stability he translated into Latin ; but that language was only 
 persuaded to tell his message by much coaxing and ingenuity. 
 
 Owing to Bacon's careful and laborious way of compiling his works 
 re-casting, re-writing, and translating they have become consider- 
 ably complicated, and it is not easy to decide what are to be regarded 
 as examples of his English philosophical style. His chief works are : 
 The Advancement of Learning, the Augmentis Scientiarum, and the 
 Novum Organum. The Essays are not, in strict sense, philosophical. 
 They contain many practical moral maxims and much worldly pru- 
 dence, but not his systematic thought. The New Atlantis sets forth a 
 Utopia in the form of a philosophical tale ; but though entirely in 
 sympathy with, it forms no part of Bacon's body of philosophy. The 
 Sylva Sylvarum, Historia Ventorum, Historia Vitce et Mortis, &c., have 
 no interest for us. Several early tentative productions that were 
 superseded by the Novum Organum are of no direct importance. Of 
 Bacon's three great works, the Latin expansion of the Advancement of 
 Learning, called De Augmentis Scientiarum, may be neglected for our 
 
 1 Advancement of Learning, Bk. i. (Works), Vol. III., p. 261. 
 
 2 Ibid., p. 274.
 
 Francis Bacon. 11 
 
 purpose. The original Advancement, one of the earliest of Bacon's 
 writings, is philosophical, though not in so high a degree as the Norton 
 Organion. It is introductory, and shows the author's general attitude 
 towards the question of human knowledge. It is an English master- 
 piece, and is an admirable example of Bacon's English prose. His 
 method and principles are formulated in the Novum Oryanum, which is 
 undoubtedly his greatest work, and one of the monuments of the 
 world's philosophy. Though it has a Latin dress and title, we think 
 it may be justly claimed as an English work with an English style. It 
 is certainly not Latin literature ; and at every stage through which the 
 Novum Organum developed, the Latin representative was preceded by 
 the same work, either in germ or in complete form, in English. 1 
 
 There has been some controversy as to how far, if at all, Bacon 
 was master of the art of Latin composition. Liebig has asserted, but 
 wrongly, that Bacon himself wrote none of his works in Latin, and 
 that he got his friends to translate his English writings. Bacon did, 
 
 1 The Novum Organum was the result of careful elaboration and many pre- 
 liminary efforts. It received revision every year for twelve years. Its germ is to be 
 found in the Valerius Terminus, Of the Interpretation of Nature, a fragment written 
 in English probably about 1603. This was Bacon's earliest connected account of 
 his opinions. There were several other efforts, in very distinctive styles, written 
 apparently for experiments as to what form was suited to the subject and acceptable 
 to the public : for Bacon was extremely concerned about the success of his work. 
 One of the abandoned styles is exhibited in the Temporis Partus MasfUlus (Latin, 
 about 1583). The English Valerius Terminus was developed into the Partis 
 Secundae Delineatio et Argumentum (Latin, about 1606-7). Bacon then hit upon 
 the plan of dealing with the subject in two parts ; one an introductory work laying 
 down principles, the other giving examples of the actual operation of the method. 
 The first part he dealt with in his Filum Labyrinthi sive Formula, Inquisitionis 
 (1607), an English work. For the second part he began to draw up tables. He then 
 translated the Filum Labyrinthi into Latin with only very slight alterations, and 
 gave it the title Cogitata et Visa (1607). The second part he formed into a Latin 
 piece with the title Filum Labyrinthi, sive Inquisitio Legitima de Motu (1607). It 
 only remained to adapt these to the form of aphorism, and to take " heat " instead 
 of " motion " as the example, and we have the First and Second Books respectively 
 of the Novum Organum. 
 
 Valerius Terminus 
 
 Delineatio 
 
 Filum Labyrinthi sive Tables 
 
 Formula Inquisitionis 
 
 Cogitata et Visa Filum Labyrinthi, sive 
 
 Inquisitio Legitima de Motu 
 
 Novum Organum, Book i. Novum Organum, Book ii.
 
 12 Francis Bacon. 
 
 no doubt, sometimes get his English books done up in a Latin dress. 
 But he appears to have put down his thoughts in his C -..mmentarius 
 Solutus almost indifferently in Latin or English, 1 and he himself wrote 
 the Novum Organum in Latin. 2 We can gather what was Bacon's 
 ideal of a Latin prose for his purpose from Tenison's account of the 
 negotiations with Dr. Playfer, of Cambridge, concerning the translation 
 of the Advancement of Learning which Bacon had asked him to under- 
 take. " Upon this great occasion he [Dr. Playfer] would be over- 
 " accurate ; and he sent a specimen of such superfine Latinity that the 
 " Lord Bacon did not encourage him to labour further in the work, in 
 " the penning of which he desired not so much neat and polite, as clear, 
 "masculine, and apt expression." 3 This is just the ideal he had 
 before him in writing the Novum Organum. " The Latin of, at least, 
 " the First Book of the Novum Organum, rugged and unclassical, as it 
 " often is, seems to me . . . distinctly to bear the mark of genius, 
 ' ' and of the same kind of genius that we find stamped on Bacon's English 
 " expression." 4 Thus, from the fact that the Novum Organum is really 
 an English book translated into Latin words (and those often not 
 classical), and seeing that the style is Bacon's characteristic English 
 one, we have no hesitation in considering it as a piece of English 
 literature. 
 
 Our author has a wonderful variety of prose wherewith to treat the 
 different aspects of human knowledge, for that is his great theme. 
 But in the main he has two philosophical styles, differing greatly from 
 each other, yet both typical of the man. The one is that of the 
 Advancement where we have scope for fertile imagination and need of 
 connected discourse. Here the features are sustained eloquence, 
 glowing imagery and grand periods. In the Novum Organum we have 
 apt figures and short oracular utterances, not ornate, but compressed 
 and clinched. 
 
 The Advancement of Learning is remarkably free from most of the 
 vices which mar continuous prose of the time of Elizabeth. Bacon is 
 the first writer to get anything like the greatest possible variety out of 
 the English language, by uniting all the excellent features already 
 current in the various writers. His powers range from sweeping 
 
 1 Fowler, Intro, to Novum Organum, Sec. iv. 
 
 2 Tenison's Baconiana, pp. 28, 9. 
 
 3 Baconiana, p. 26. 
 
 * Fowler, Intro, to Novum Organum, Intro., p. 14.
 
 Francis Bacon. 13 
 
 eloquence and rich imagery to exact aphorism and striking epigram. 
 That Bacon so combined the many and varied qualities of previous 
 prose was due to the many-sidedness of his character, the versatility of 
 his genius, and the diverse occupations of his life. Few T if any great 
 philosophers have manifested such wide differences in the qualities 
 of their style, perhaps because to be a great philosopher often means 
 to have a cramped experience and narrowed tastes. Immanuel Kant 
 is known as the philosopher of Konigsberg ; and he is a monotonous, 
 inartistic and unimaginative writer, for the most part readable only by 
 the severest application. Bacon was at once courtier, lawyer, classical 
 scholar, and man of the world, vocations not often united in the 
 philosopher. The man who had been Lord Chancellor of England died 
 from a chill taken when stuffing a hen with snow as an experiment on 
 the power of cold to prevent putrefaction. Many interests and wide 
 experience did much to foster a good style. The fact that he was a 
 courtier prevented him from becoming uncouth and dry, while his 
 profession as a legal pleader was a guarantee that his matter would be 
 well and effectively arranged, with sufficient form and ceremony in the 
 sentences ; his classical culture filled his works with ancient lore ever 
 ready to illustrate and adorn his modern thought. 
 
 We purpose noticing the qualities of Bacon's philosophical style in 
 respect to the following elements : (I.) Its broad general features, 
 (II.) Its use of figures and illustrations, (III.) The structure of its 
 sentences. 
 
 (I.) Perhaps the preponderant feeling we experience in reading 
 Bacon is that of massiveness. We have not heard a solo ; we have 
 been listening to a chorus. The author had one end throughout life 
 for all his writings. His best thought and enthusiasm were 
 concentrated on one idea, human knowledge and its extension for the 
 bettering man's estate. This was a rare disposition amidst the 
 inconsistency and flippancy of the day. Compare our author's 
 philosophical works with the undigested, encyclopaedic conglomeration 
 of materials collected in the writings of Eobert Burton and Sir Thomas 
 Browne. Whether the form be connected discourse or isolated 
 aphorism, the whole writing is welded together into a solid unity by 
 the intense feeling of a man who writes because an all-absorbing 
 thought has taken possession of his entire mind. Bacon's thoughts are 
 not pieced and joined ; they are fused. A mere litterateur, a dealer in 
 curiosities and fancy goods, might indeed force an elastic band round
 
 14 Francis Bacon. 
 
 his whole stock-in-trade and label the lot, but Bacon's writings have 
 the organic unity and the massiveness worthy of a great philosopher. 
 As the result of such devotion to his subject there is a genuine 
 earnestness and a simple enthusiasm of style in spite of all the dignity 
 and grandeur of his bearing. There is a whole-heartedness that enlists 
 our sympathies and an appeal that commands our efforts. 
 
 " And now we have spoken of the several kinds of idola and 
 " their belongings ; all of which must be renounced and adjured 
 " with a constant and solemn determination, and the intellect 
 " entirely freed and purged from them ; so that the approach to 
 " the Kingdom of man, which is founded on the sciences, may be 
 " like that of the Kingdom of Heaven, into which none may enter 
 " save in the character of a little child." 1 
 
 Such earnestness of heart and consecration of intellect find 
 expression in glowing eloquence, not spasmodic, but sustained and 
 free. " Eloquentia simulari non potest." Bacon had opportunities in 
 many respects unique of leaving a splendid philosophical style in 
 English literature. There can be but one beginning of anything ; 
 and Bacon was the pioneer of the new movement in science and 
 philosophy. He was the herald of the new era and his 
 mind and character were of the type to give it an imposing 
 heralding. There is a great flourish of trumpets and extravagant 
 display worthy the advent of the new age. Harvey hit off Bacon's 
 characteristic manner when he said " he writes science like a Lord 
 " Chancellor.*' It was this grasp and manner that made Bacon's 
 exposition literature, while Harvey's DC, Motu Sanguinis, although it 
 sets forth an infinitely better example of the new method than any 
 Bacon gives, is merely of historical interest and that chiefly for the 
 physiologist. Our author's mode of work is admirably indicated when 
 he writes, " For were it not better for a man in a fair room to set up 
 " one great light, or branching candlestick of lights, than to go about 
 " with a small watch candle into every corner?" 2 His power was in 
 the interpretation of the new spirit and the formulation of the new 
 method in broad philosophical language, sweeping, eloquent, and 
 impressive, such as that of the opening aphorism of the Novum 
 Organum: "Man, the servant and interpreter ,of nature, performs 
 " and understands so much as he has collected concerning the order of 
 
 1 Novum Organum, Book i., Aphorism Ixviii. 
 
 2 Advancement, Bk. i. (Works ed. by Ellis and Spedding), Vol. III., p. 286.
 
 Francis Bacon. 15 
 
 " nature by observation and reason : nor do his powers or his know- 
 " ledge extend further." It was far easier for Bacon to make a place, 
 and a glorious one, in literature with such a task than for his successors 
 to excel as writers, hampered as they were by the detailed and 
 laborious work of analysis and criticism. Locke could not have 
 filled Bacon's place, nor could the latter have achieved the former's 
 results in patient, lowly investigation. It was for Bacon to be 
 imaginative, majestic, and eloquent in a degree that has not been 
 possible for any philosopher or scientist since his day. His style is 
 therefore an isolated one. The typical English thinker has been of 
 the analytical, sceptical disposition. Bacon's mind was not of the 
 dissecting type ; it could grasp wholes, vast wholes in one rapid com- 
 prehensive sweep. He gives us the results of the working of his own 
 genius ; he rarely sets down logical, laborious processes with any 
 success. He is dictatorial, lordly, and oracular in his utterances. 
 
 He never argues ; if he gives a reason it is in the form of a simile or 
 
 , 
 analogy. 
 
 &J * I (M- J-VL, 
 
 The last general feature we shall notice in our author's style is the 
 division and arrangement he gives to his subjects. These, being loose 
 and unsystematic, are, on the whole, very unsatisfactory. His manner 
 of division is often too much governed by his artistic faculty, and his 
 arrangement and treatment are curious and arbitrary. This is perhaps 
 the greatest flaw in Bacon's writings, and is the feature in which 
 modern philosophical prose is so vastly superior to the early styles. 
 Quaintness of system is a feature of all Bacon's work. He was not 
 pre-eminently a close, logical reasoner, or an exact formulator. But 
 his mind was ever active, and he had remarkable powers of organization 
 and elaboration. Hence he must systematise whether he had satis- 
 factory materials or not. Indeed, his schemes and plans went far in 
 advance of his materials, and were consequently very unreliable, and 
 are of little use to modern thought. Bacon's inventive genius and 
 power of constructive elaboration led him into great works that 
 produced very few results. The whole plan of the Instauratio Magna is 
 characterised rather by imposing conception than by feasibility. The 
 Advancement is, as regards arrangement, loose and ill-balanced, and its 
 treatment diffuse. Its beauty is of the rambling and profuse rather 
 than of the orderly and symmetrical type. In the Novum Organum 
 the division of the subject is largely mechanical, as with the form of 
 aphorism it was bound to be. It is a massive structure built of
 
 16 Francis Bacon. 
 
 curicmsly-figured blocks, but without any architectural subordination 
 of parts to the whole. 
 
 One very marked feature of Bacon's style is the way in which a 
 topic is started and skilfully broken up into divisions in the short space 
 of a compact sentence. True, the division of a subject thus intuitively 
 and rapidly arrived at has a greater artistic than logical worth ; true, 
 the division is generally arbitrary, but the artifice adds greatly to the 
 order and clearness of the discourse. Almost all Bacon's arrangement 
 and distribution of a subject is brought about with great artistic effect 
 by the precision of a single \vord or a series of antithetical clauses. An 
 illustration of the artistic method of arrangement will convey our 
 meaning better than any description. In the Advancement order is got 
 into a subject in the following ingenious and artistic manner : 
 
 " There be therefore chiefly three vanities in studies, whereby 
 " learning hath been traduced. For those things we do esteem 
 " vain, which are either false or frivolous, those which either have 
 " no truth or no use : and those persons we esteem vain, which 
 "are either credulous or curious; and curiosity is either in 
 "matter, or words: so that in reason as well as in experience, 
 " there fall out to be these three distempers (as I may term them) 
 " of learning ; the first, fantastical learning ; the second, con- 
 " tentious learning ; and the last, delicate learning ; vain imagina- 
 " tions, vain altercations, and vain affectations ; and with the last 
 " I will begin." 1 
 
 " This knowledge [i.e., civil] hath three parts, according to 
 " the three summary actions of society ; which are Conversation, 
 " Negotiation, and Government. For man seeketh in society 
 " comfort, use, and protection : and they be three wisdoms of 
 " divers natures, which do often sever ; wisdom of the behaviour, 
 " wisdom of business, and wisdom of state." 2 
 
 Bacon touches nothing without dividing it up in this deft, quaint 
 but artistic fashion. 
 
 (II.) Bacon's prose is figurative as no other English philosopher's 
 has been. Perhaps the only philosopher with whom he may be 
 compared in his constant use of figures, analogies, and illustrations is 
 Plato. The latter was an artist, and his imagination and eloquence 
 often ran away with his philosophy. Bacon also was a literary artist, 
 
 1 Advancement, Bk. i. (Works), Vol. III., p. 282. 
 
 2 Ibid., Bk. ii. (Works). Vol. III., p. 445.
 
 Francis Bacon. 21 
 
 " For to say that a blind custom of obedience should be a surer 
 "obligation than duty taught and understood, it is to affirm that 
 " a blind man may tread surer by a guide than a seeing man 
 " can by a light." 1 
 
 " So it is in contemplation ; if a man will begin with 
 " certainties, he shall end in doubts ; but if he will be content 
 "to begin with doubts, he shall end in certainties." 2 
 
 " Nevertheless I shall yield, that he that cannot contract the 
 " sight of his mind as well as disperse and dilate it, wanteth 
 " a great faculty." 3 
 
 The above are taken from the Advancement. All the Aphorisms 
 of the First Book of the Novum Organum are more or less of this 
 nature. 
 
 The second form of sentence is the one by which Bacon acquires 
 greatest dignity and power of eloquence. It is of the elaborated and 
 balanced form, making use of antitheses. The period is launched, 
 and carried forward by a series of co-ordinate phrases or clauses, of 
 close correspondence in form and sound, until we come to a clause 
 which, both by form and thought, marks the middle or fulcrum of the 
 sentence ; then we proceed with a balancing series of opposing co- 
 ordinate phrases, and the whole sentence is finished off with a pompous 
 turn. The following, which is one of Bacon's finest and richest 
 passages, is an instance of this most careful and dignified com- 
 position : 
 
 " But the greatest error of all the rest is the mistaking or 
 " misplacing of the last or furthest end of knowledge. For men 
 " have entered into a desire of learning and knowledge, sometimes 
 " upon a natural curiosity and inquisitive appetite ; sometimes to 
 "entertain their minds with variety and delight; sometimes for 
 " ornament and reputation ; and sometimes to enable them to 
 " victory of wit and contradiction ; and most times for lucre and 
 " profession ; and seldom sincerely to give a true account of their 
 " gift of reason, to the benefit and use of men : as if there were 
 " sought in knowledge a couch, whereupon to rest a searching and 
 " restless spirit; or a terrace, for a wandering and variable mind 
 " to walk up and down with a fair prospect ; or a tower of state, 
 
 1 Advancement, Bk. i. (Works), Vol. III., p. 273. 
 
 2 Ibid., Bk. ii., p. 293. 
 s Ibid., Bk. ii., p. 279.
 
 22 Francis Bacon. 
 
 " for a proud mind to raise itself upon ; or a fort or commanding 
 " ground, for strife and contention ; or a shop, for profit or sale ; 
 " and not a rich storehouse, for the glory of the Creator, and the 
 " relief of man's estate." 1 
 
 The following are also good instances of Bacon's periodic style. 
 They contain some of his most important philosophical statements : 
 
 " But the conduct of mankind has hitherto been such, that it 
 "is no wonder nature has not opened herself to them. For the 
 " information of the senses is treacherous and deceitful; observa- 
 " tion careless, irregular, and accidental ; tradition idle, rumorous, 
 " and vain; practice narrow and servile; experience blind, stupid, 
 " vague and broken ; and natural history extremely light and 
 " empty : wretched materials for the understanding to fashion 
 "into philosophy and the sciences!" 2 
 
 " But the most difficult part of our task consists in the form of 
 " induction, and the judgment to be made by it ; for that form of 
 " the logicians which proceeds by simple enumeration, is a childish 
 " thing, concludes unsafely, lies open to contradictory instances, 
 " and regards only common matters ; yet determines nothing : 
 " whilst the sciences require such a form of induction, as can 
 " separate, adjust, and verify experience, and come to a necessary 
 "determination by proper exclusions and rejections." 3 
 
 " The human intellect is not of the character of a dry light, 
 " but receives a tincture from the will and affections, which 
 "generates 'sciences after its own will'; for man more readily 
 " believes what he wishes to be true. And so it rejects difficult 
 "things, from impatience of enquiry: sober things, because they 
 " narrow hope ; the deeper things of nature, from superstition; 
 "the light of experience, from arrogance and disdain, lest the 
 "mind should seem to be occupied with worthless and changing 
 " matters ; paradoxes, from a fear of the opinion of the vulgar: 
 "in short, the affections enter and corrupt the intellect in 
 "innumerable ways, and these sometimes imperceptible."* 
 
 " Those however who aspire not to guess and divine, but to 
 " discover and know ; who propose not to diviss mimic and 
 
 1 Advancement, Bk. i. (Works), Vol. III., p. 294. 
 
 2 Distributio Operis. 
 s Ibid. 
 
 Novum Orgamim, Bk. i., Aph. xlix.
 
 Francis Bacon. 23 
 
 " fabulous worlds of their own, but to examine and dissect the 
 " nature of this real world itself ; must go to facts themselves for 
 " everything." 1 
 
 Perhaps no English writer, except Shakespeare, has had such sus- 
 tained popularity and wide-spread influence as Bacon. His optimism, 
 and the eloquence to which it gave rise, have proved an ever fresh 
 source of inspiration for mankind. Whatever we may think of certain 
 of his actions, there is no breath of insincerity or meanness throughout 
 his pages. The dignity of his spirit has revealed itself through his 
 speech, and has influenced all who have listened to his words. He 
 has roused by majestic eloquence, he has impressed by incisiveness of 
 utterance, he has moved by simple earnestness of tone. No man has 
 ever had more unhesitating confidence in his own message, more 
 robust hope for the future of knowledge and of mankind, or more 
 irresistible enthusiasm for the cause of science ; and certainly no man 
 has written in a manner more calculated to elevate or to inspire than 
 the great seer who adopted as his prophecy, " Multi pertransibunt et 
 augebitur sciential 
 
 Distributio Operis (Works), Vol. IV., p. 28.
 
 II. 
 Thomas Hobbes. 
 
 THOMAS HOBBES is an isolated figure alike in English philosophy and 
 in English literature. He holds a unique position in both. No man 
 ever thought like Hobbes, and certainly no English prose possesses in 
 an equal degree those qualities for which his writings are remarkable. 
 The effects of temperament on philosophy and on style are clearly 
 traceable in the case of Hobbes. The positive traits of his character 
 are the index to the peculiarity of his thought ; the limitations of his 
 personality correspond to and cause the marked defects of his intel- 
 lectual scheme of things : philosophy and disposition are the key to his 
 style. Given his sentiments, his literary medium, though so remark- 
 able, is naturalness itself ; the character of his thought being what it 
 was, his style ought to be just what we find it. 
 
 The name " Hobbist " carries with it, perhaps, as much ill odour as 
 any that a philosopher has given to a body of tenets or to a school of 
 thought. To most Englishmen of the seventeenth century " Hobbist " 
 was as significant as "Epicurean." Nor is it easy to rescue the true 
 personality of Hobbes from the clouds of political and theological 
 prejudice in which the times enveloped him. But we cannot bring 
 ourselves to think that his personality was at all an attractive or a 
 lovable one. Those who valued him did so because of the robust 
 strength and originality of his thought, his keen wit, and his intense 
 utterance. His opinions were very decided and distinctive ; his views 
 such as to shock conventional minds ; and his asseverations forceful 
 even to violence. His friend Aubrey 'has a very significant remark 
 about him. Eeferring to his life after the Eestoration, he says, " The 
 " witts at Court were wont to bayte him. But he feared none of them, 
 " and would make his part good. The king would call him the beare : 
 " ' Here comes the beare to be bayted ' ! "
 
 Thomas Hobbcs. 25 
 
 In disposition, as well as in general tone of speculation, Hobbes 
 reminds us greatly of Bentham. The qualities of his character, with 
 one exception, are all on the side of strength and ruggedness. This 
 one exception was a constitutional timorousness that rendered him 
 little more than a coward in the face of physical danger and social 
 unrest. Such a failing is the more remarkable when we remember the 
 daring and the uncompromising nature of his thought. He was in- 
 tellectually fearless, fond of paradox, and severely logical. His thought 
 was massive, his intellect was vigorous, and his ideas and principles 
 wt re grasped in the vice-like clutches of his strenuous mind. Devoid 
 of sentiment and of imagination, he was utterly unsympathetic 
 towards, and unresponsive to the more tender, as also to the more 
 noble aspects of human life. He was unemotional, with the exception 
 that he was at times irate. Harsh and unexpansive, self-assertive and 
 dictatorial, haughty and contradictious, he might well be cons-dered 
 by many repulsive and perverse. Certainly there is nothing gracious 
 or idealistic about the man. He was self-centred, and was never free 
 from the prudential dictates of a calculating and a quiet-loving mind, 
 rendered nervous by natural timidity. The cold, unsympathetic, un- 
 impulsive cast of his disposition is indicated by the fact that when 
 England was given up to parties and to strife he was neither a 
 thorough-going Royalist nor a Revolutionist, neither a Puritan nor an 
 Anglican. He quoted scripture, yet in such a way that men said he 
 was an irreverent rationalist. He protested his religious faith, yet he 
 was put down as an atheist. Unlike so many others, he was not 
 carried away by the current of events, and was, by his dispassionate 
 view of the situation, saved from becoming an ephemeral politician or 
 an enthusiastic patriot. While other men, his friends, staked their life 
 on their opinions, he retired abroad to cultivate the philosophic calm, 
 and treated the questions of the day, not as questions of a day, but in 
 so comprehensive a manner, and with such a rational setting and 
 logical coherence, that his works remain a lasting monument of 
 English speculative literature. 
 
 Hobbes's philosophy is a reflection of his own character in all its 
 strength, ruggedness, and rigid limitations. The centre of his interest 
 in these tumultuous times was the study of human nature, for know- 
 ledge of human nature alone could give the solution to the political 
 and religious difficulties of the country. But it was unfortunate for 
 his philosophical analysis of human nature that he was himself such a
 
 26 Thomas Hobbes. 
 
 one-sided specimen of humanity. There is much truth in Clarendon's 
 remark : " Mr. Hobbes having taken upon himself to imitate God, and 
 " created Man after his own likeness, given him all the passions and 
 " affections which he finds in himself, and no other, he prescribes him 
 " the judge of all things and words, according to the definitions he sets 
 " down, with the Authority of a Creator." 
 
 The man who, with such decided opinions on social and political 
 problems, amidst such stirring and exciting times as the Civil Wars, 
 could retire to France and frame a cool, self-consistent, thoroughly 
 grounded philosophy, comprehensive in grasp and of universal scope, 
 must needs have been endowed with a peculiarly philosophical tempera- 
 ment. The result is a magnificent sweep of survey, and a logical 
 continuity and completeness of system manifested in his works at a 
 time when these qualities were least to be expected ; a speculative 
 grasp to which we have no parallel in English systems until the 
 " Synthetic Philosophy " of Herbert Spencer. 
 
 No doubt Hobbes's speculations were very profoundly affected by 
 the momentous affairs that were being transacted in the English nation. 
 But the marvel is that we can read the philosophical portions of his 
 writings with so little consciousness of what was going on around him. 
 How intense and eloquent, even fierce, Milton becomes amidst the 
 same scenes ! Men were fighting for their dearest liberties ; religious 
 feeling was stirred to its very depths. Almost all the literary produc- 
 tions of such periods bear ineradicable marks of special and accidental 
 circumstances. In Hobbes, though the problems of the times gave a 
 cue to his theories, there is remarkably little trace of local and tem- 
 poral colouring. It needs strong grasp of comprehensive principles 
 and able mastery in systematic construction, to realize, as Hobbes did, 
 that it is impossible to get a thoroughgoing, well-grounded conception 
 of society the great Leviathan and an insight into the conditions of 
 its welfare, without an intimate knowledge of its " matter " and 
 " artificer," " both which is man," and an analysis of his powers, 
 physical, mental, and moral. But the study of man as part of the 
 physical world presupposes an adequate physical science. Hence 
 Hobbes developed a mechanical atomism. Beyond this again we must 
 have a " first philosophy " comprehending mathematics. And since no 
 science can be formulated, no investigations carried on, without certain 
 presuppositions and fundamental principles, he begins with logic and a 
 formulation of method. Here we have unusual breadth of view and
 
 Thomas Hobbes. '27 
 
 unity of system. The methods of explanation are few and simple, the 
 thought is coherent and harmonious, and the theory is well compacted. 
 As a mere attempt at exhaustive and comprehensive system, Hohbes's 
 work is masterly. 
 
 Although considerable disorganization resulted in the order in which 
 our author's books appeared, owing to the pressure of contemporary 
 events calling for his political opinions first ; and although there is some 
 complication arising from the fact that certain works were written 
 originally in English and duplicates afterwards made in Latin, while 
 others were written in Latin and translations made in English, yet if 
 we bear in mind the general plan of his system it is easy to find our 
 whereabouts in these voluminous productions. The logical scheme of 
 his construction is, first, De Corpore ; second, De Homine ; third, De 
 Give. These three divisions give the titles to the three Latin works 
 which contain the formal exposition of his doctrines. He had planned 
 out on these lines his far-reaching philosophy before he began 
 to write his particular works. Moreover, although the interest of 
 political events in England led to the publication of what was really 
 the last complement of his theories, the work on Government, De 
 Give, first, yet he had already not only planned and elaboiated the 
 foundations on which this top stone rested, but actually written in 
 English that part of his theory which dealt with human nature and 
 social life. For in 1640 there was privately circulated a manuscript 
 copy (in two parts) of what was afterwards published as the English 
 works, Human Nature and De Corpore Politico. The De Give published 
 as a. Latin work in 1642 corresponds to De Corpore Politico. The first 
 and second parts of the formal Latin exposition appeared as De Corpore 
 in 1655 and De Homine in 1658. This last, however, was a mere 
 formal completion of his promised system, and is of little value as 
 compared with the English work Human Nature. The Human Nature 
 and De Corpore Politico, which had formed the little treatise of 1640, 
 were published in 1650. They formed two parts of Hobbes's so-called 
 English " tripos." The third part of this " tripos "is Of Liberty and 
 Necessity, a theological discussion of freewill. But by far the most 
 popular and most influential of Hobbes's writings is the Leviathan, an 
 English work published in 1651. It was a direct appeal to the English 
 nation, and contains most of his important theories. Even if our object 
 were an investigation of Hobbes's distinctive doctrines, we might 
 almost restrict ourselves to the Human Nature, the De Corpore Politico,
 
 28 Thomas Hobbes. 
 
 and the Leviathan. The De Corpore cannot be regarded as English 
 literature. It was written in Latin, and its interest is rather for 
 natural than for mental or social philosophy. The chapters on Logic, 
 on Method, and on Sensation, however, are important as shewing how 
 the author passes, by his mechanical atomism, without a break, from 
 the material to the mental world. 
 
 The three English works, Human Nature, De Corpore Politico, and 
 Leviathan, are written in Hobbes's characteristic style. As regards 
 the Leviathan, the strictly philosophical matter is contained in the 
 first two parts, the last two being political and theological. The 
 author's aim in writing it was to give a succinct and effective account 
 of his views on the organization and government of Church and State, 
 prefaced by such a groundwork as was necessary to give these views 
 a scientific and philosophical support. It is this groundwork that 
 contains Hobbes's philosophy. The Human Nature and De Corpore 
 Politico are a little freer in the exposition of some points than the 
 Leviathan. The sentences are slightly longer, and the language not 
 quite so severe. But there is very little variation in our author's prose, 
 and its remarkable uniformity makes it possible to appreciate the 
 features of his style from an examination of any page chosen at 
 random. 
 
 Hobbes developed his system chiefly under the stimulating in- 
 fluence of Continental thought. The encouragement and patronage 
 given to him by the physical investigators and scholars of Pans 
 enabled him to see that his doctrines were of interest to the scientific 
 world. He had spent many years of study in the acquisition of a 
 Latin style, and he had aided Bacon himself in the expression of his 
 thoughts in that language. It thus appeared natural to him that the 
 formal exposition of his doctrines should be in Latin. But it was an 
 age of polemics, and Hobbes had very definite and valuable views with 
 which he desired to influence the government and religion of England. 
 It was this that drew him from the more exclusive and select audience of 
 the learned into English literature, that he might appeal to the English 
 nation. Hobbes, indeed, had much more faith in his native tongue 
 as a repository for permanent thought than Bacon. And this was 
 very natural, when we consider how much more reliable and how 
 much less quaint English becomes in the prose of Hobbes than in that 
 of any of his predecessors. 
 
 Hobbes's prose style is one of the most striking and effective to
 
 ia Hobbes. 29 
 
 be found in the language. Perhaps no philosopher has propounded 
 his views in so clear and forceful a manner. The energy, precision, 
 and lucidity of the medium proceed from great force of personal 
 character and very distinctive doctrines. The feeling we experience 
 in reading Hobbes is like that of plunging into cold, clear, limpid 
 water on a summer day. It is bracing and invigorating, and we are at 
 once active and alert. Certainly the temperature is low, and inclined 
 to be chill ; but that only increases the vigour. The prose is remark- 
 ably uniform", and we have none of the intricate tangles of clauses, 
 parentheses, and involved subordinate sentences, which so greatly mar 
 Elizabethan writings. The sentences are direct, perspicuous, and well 
 constructed. The diction is luminous, the phrases happy and well 
 rounded, the sentences terse. Hobbes never beats the air ; his clauses 
 and sentences fall like hammer-strokes ; each has a purpose and each 
 fulfils it. The following passages will enable us to realize these pro- 
 perties of our author's prose better than any description : 
 
 " Whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time of war, when 
 " every man is enemy to every man, the same is consequent to 
 " the time wherein men live without other security than what 
 " their own strength and their own invention shall furnish them 
 " withal. In such condition there is no place for industry, because 
 " the fruit thereof is uncertain, and consequently no culture of the 
 " earth ; no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be 
 "imported by sea; no commodious building; no instruments of 
 "moving and removing such things as require much force; no 
 ' knowledge of the face of the earth ; no account of time ; no 
 "arts; no letters; no society; and, which is worst of all, con- 
 " tinual fear and danger of violent death ; and the life of man 
 " solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." * 
 
 " The ' value,' or ' worth ' of a man, is as of all other things, 
 " his price ; that is to say, so much as would be given for the use 
 " of his power : and therefore is not absolute ; but a thing 
 " dependent on the need and judgment of another. An able 
 " conductor of soldiers is of great price in time of war present, or 
 " imminent ; but in peace not so. A learned and uncorrupt judge, 
 " is much worth in time of peace ; but not so much in war. And 
 " as in other things, so in men, not the seller, but the buyer 
 
 1 Leviathan, Pt. i., Ch. xiii. (Molesworth's Ed.), p. 113.
 
 30 Thomas Hobbcs. 
 
 " determines the price. For let a man, as most men do, rate 
 " themselves at the highest value they can ; yet their true value is 
 " no more than it is esteemed by others." 1 
 
 We have noticed that Hobbes's writings manifest great constructive 
 power and a comprehensiveness of mind that is unsurpassed. His, 
 however, was not a breadth of view that demanded, or gave scope for, 
 eloquence as did Bacon's, whose horizon was glorious chiefly because 
 it was a distant one. It was no longer possible for thinkers to spend 
 time upon the threshold of knowledge and enlarge upon the potentiali- 
 ties of science. Hobbes had an intensely concrete and practical mind, 
 and was sure to betake himself to a specific, matter-of-fact style. His 
 subject might be abstract, but he always had something very particular 
 and practical to say about it. His success is usually just at the point 
 where Bacon failed, namely, the application of broad principles and 
 general methods to important details. Hence his style is direct, 
 precise, and plain, and is devoid of that pompous grandeur and glowing 
 eloquence in which Bacon revelled. It is in the tangible and the con- 
 crete, rather than in the vague and the visionary, that Hobbes finds 
 subjects most adapted to his genius and his style. Bacon throws 
 around his subjects a halo of glory and romance : Hobbes presents his 
 object in all its angularity and literalness. But in swift, striking 
 analysis, in orderly, compressed, effective exposition, and in the force- 
 ful driving home of practical conclusions, Hobbes excels. While Bacon 
 is surveying a new territory and expatiating upon the grandeur of the 
 scene, Hobbes has sunk his shaft and got his ore. 
 
 A great deal of the energy and force of our author's style is due to 
 his pugnacity. He does not assume the attitude of conciliation or 
 compromise. He ever shows a warlike front ; and anything that can 
 be gained by audacity is his. He rarely, in his writings, relies on our 
 sympathy; he never courts it. His attitude is either offensive or 
 defensive; he never studies persuasion. He adopts the harsh, un- 
 conciliating manner calculated first to arouse, then to overcome 
 opposition. Nor is the exposition less dogmatic than pugnacious. He 
 is fond of decisive utterance, sweeping statement, and iron-wrought 
 definition. He never suggests, never implies, never even discusses ; 
 there is hardly a sustained, all-round argument in the whole of his 
 writings. Every subject is treated in the same dictatorial, legislative, 
 
 1 Leviathan, Pt. i., Ch. x. (Molesworth's Ed.), p. 76.
 
 Thomas Hobbes. 31 
 
 cut-and-dried way. The result is a precision, a deliberateness, and a 
 strength that are unsurpassed in the English language. 
 
 The luminousness and plausibility of our author's style are due 
 largely to his extreme nominalist position. Human knowledge is, for 
 Hobbes, contained in the import of words. Define clearly what you 
 mean by common words, and the end of philosophy is accomplished. 
 That human thought has to penetrate below the surface of language, 
 and to spend its best energies in laying bare what common speech has 
 concealed ; and that the results of our thought are often very difficult 
 to express in common words ; these are things that Hobbes never 
 dreamed of. Instead of subtle metaphysical and psychological analyses, 
 we have the rough and ready way of nominalism, with its crude dis- 
 tinctions. Instead of freeing thought from the conventionalities and 
 perversities of common speech, and leaving definitions as the final 
 product of speculation, Hobbes tries to build up a philosophy out of 
 arbitrary definitions of every-day terms. This forms a very ready means 
 of obtaining an easily intelligible and plausible style, and obviates the 
 necessity of severe analysis. But it leaves the prose devoid of supple- 
 ness and flexibility. Many sections are little more than dictionaries of 
 a particular class of common words ; the peculiarity being, that these 
 are chosen so as to hang together by a common tie, and defined on a 
 principle that makes them appear to fall into a most natural system. 
 The following quotations will illustrate this coherent, luminous style 
 of descriptive definition. They are from the tenth chapter, Part i., 
 of Leviathan, which is composed of a series of definitions on the 
 notions " power," " w y orth," " dignity," and " honour." 
 
 " To pray to another, for aid of any kind, is ' to honour '; because 
 
 " a sign we have an opinion he has power to help; and the more 
 
 " difficult the aid is, the more is the honour. 
 
 " To obey, is to honour, because no man obeys them whom they 
 
 " think have no power to help, or hurt them. And consequently 
 
 " to disobey, is to ' dishonour.' 
 
 " To give great gifts to a man, is to honour him ; because it is 
 
 " buying of protection, and acknowledging of power. To give little 
 
 " gifts, is to dishonour ; because it is but alms, and signifies an 
 
 " opinion of the need of small helps. 
 
 "To be sedulous in promoting another's good, also to flatter, 
 
 "is to honour ; as a sign we seek his protection or aid. To 
 
 " neglect, is to dishonour.
 
 32 Thomas Hobbes. 
 
 " To give way or place to another, in any commodity, is to 
 
 " honour; being a confession of greater power. To arrogate, is to 
 
 " dishonour. 
 
 " To shew any sign of love, or fear of another, is to honour; for 
 
 " both to love, and to fear, is to value. To contemn, or less to 
 
 "love or fear than he expects, is to dishonour; for it is under- 
 
 " valueing. 
 
 " To praise, magnify, or call happy, is to honour ; because 
 
 " nothing but goodness, power, and felicity is valued. To revile, 
 
 " mock, or pity, is to dishonour." x 
 
 Many of the admirable qualities of our author's style energy, 
 emphasis, and clinching terseness are due to the narrowness of the 
 track along which his thought travels. His pointed prose pierces its 
 way like a plough. Concentration of thought leads to intensity and 
 compression of utterance ; exaggeration of conception invariably adds 
 force to style ; while one-sided aspects are invariably clearer and 
 better denned than complex situations. It is comparatively easy 
 to give vivid exposition to partial thought. Hobbes's view is only 
 of one side in everything, and it is ever the same side. Hence 
 the consistency and plausibility of his writing, even when he is 
 making most outrageous statements. It is often his calm audacity in 
 exaggeration that wins him success. His statement is so penetrating, 
 so bold, so unfaltering, that there is not the slightest hint of a suspicion 
 that things can be, or can be expressed otherwise. Simplicity of 
 enunciation is with Hobbes frequently the result of artificial simplicity 
 of conception. Hobbes does not attempt to explain reality in all its 
 elaborate intricacies. He makes an abstract case by suppressing all 
 complicating elements, perplexing details, and modifying factors. Weigh, 
 balance, argue, Hobbes never does. Throughout the entire extent of 
 his works there is little amplification, little thorough, all-round 
 handling. Hence the more we know of him the more dogmatic he 
 appears, and the more we see wherein the fascination of his style lies, the 
 less plausible does his case become. It is the strength and clearness 
 of his prose that makes his doctrines not only tolerable but apparently 
 feasible. Every position is won by the force of an individual sentence, 
 and that force is so great that unless we are aroused we do not fed 
 inclined to contest it. Hence the danger of such a style as Hobbes's. 
 It is not a vague misty effusion, which, producing no conviction, we 
 
 1 Leviatfian, Pt. i., Ch. x. (Molesworth's Ed.), pp. 76, 7.
 
 Thomas Hobbcs. 33 
 
 allow to dissipate : it is so penetrating, its movement so quick and 
 sure, and its action so effective, that we are either overborne or need 
 to brace ourselves against the shock. It is a prose that cannot be 
 ignored. Hobbes does not compose for cumulative effect, he never 
 piles on words, phrases, or sentences ; he never uses two words where 
 one will do, and he is extremely economical in the use of his adjectives. 
 Sa,*s Hallam, " His language is so lucid and concise that it would be 
 " almost as improper to put an algebraical process in different terms as 
 " some of his metaphysical paragraphs." He has a truly wonderful 
 power of setting an aspect of truth in a striking light, sharply defined, 
 exaggerated, unnaturally simple, bare and unadorned. His expressions 
 are striking, his phrases well knit, and his sentences naturally form 
 themselves into ringing maxims and epigrammatic utterances. 
 
 " The felicity of this life consisteth not in the repose of a mind 
 
 " satisfied." 1 
 
 " For benefits oblige, and obligation is thraldom ; and unre- 
 
 " quitable obligation perpetual thraldom ; which is to one's equals 
 
 "hateful." 2 
 
 " The sum of virtue is to be sociable with them that will be 
 
 " sociable, and formidable to them that will not." 3 
 " Experience concludeth nothing universally." 4 
 " To honour those another honours, is to honour him." 5 
 But in spite of all Hobbes's precision and apparent exactness, his 
 prose suffers much from a lack of exact technical terms to serve as 
 moorings for his speculations. It was quite in harmony with his 
 general philosophical position for him to reject utterly the technical 
 language of the schools, and adopt concrete every-day words where- 
 with to express his doctrines. One unfortunate result of the absence 
 of a technical and exact nomenclature is a very perplexing indecision 
 when he is on the borderland between the physical and the mental ; 
 and though Hobbes almost invariably chooses a materialistic interpre- 
 tation, yet there is often a regrettable lack of explicitness on the subject 
 resulting from a want of philosophical terms. If thought is too refined 
 and abstract for ordinary language we begin to be absurd, according to 
 
 1 Leviathan, Pt. i., Ch. xi. (Molesworth's Ed.), p. 85. 
 
 2 Ibid., p. 87. 
 
 3 De Corpore Politico, Ch. iv.. Sec. 15. 
 * Human Nature, Ch. iv., Sec. 16. 
 
 5 Leviathan, Pt. i., Ch. x. (Molesworth's Ed.), p. 78.
 
 34 Thomas Hobbes. 
 
 Hobbes. He therefore rejects the terminology of the Schoolmen, and 
 tries to convey his doctrines in common speech. As a result he often 
 has to take refuge in vague, fantastic modes of expression, and there 
 is at times much obscurity and indefiniteness due to the lack of a 
 fixed, technical vocabulary wherewith to replace the dog-Latin of 
 Scholasticism. 
 
 The following are some of the rather extravagant words made to do 
 service for "sensation" "phantom," "appearance," "apparition," 
 " image." Again the rest of knowledge, which is not sensation, is called 
 indiscriminately " images," "fancies," "representations," "phantasy," 
 " ideas." Sentences like the following can hardly be termed precise. 
 " The imagery and representation of the qualities of the thing without, 
 " is that we call our conception, imagination, ideas, notice or know- 
 " ledge of them." 
 
 Another example of looseness where there is need of an exact 
 nomenclature is seen in his use of the word " fancy," which in 
 Hobbes's prose is often raised to the rank of a technical term 
 "... the sight, the colour, the idea of it in the fancy." (Heie 
 "fancy" equals sensation or imagination): " . . . by which is 
 "meant ... a good fancy." (Here "fancy" is synonymous with 
 " wit ") : " . . . judgment does all, except sometimes the under- 
 " standing have need to be opened by some apt similitude : and then 
 "there is so much use of fancy." (Here "fancy" refers to the 
 power of using analogy or simile.) 
 
 Hobbes's manner of exposition is such, that the attainable degree 
 of refinement and subtlety of thought is limited by the comparative 
 rigidity of his medium. Further, anything but crude analysis was 
 impossible until a finer technical instrument had been fashioned. The 
 language of unsophisticated thought was gradually found powerless to 
 grip the subtle and elusive questions of psychology and metaphysics. 
 And just as the development of Logic as a Science by Aristotle, 
 necessitated the invention of a logical technique, so the growth 
 of psychological analysis has necessitated the formation of a more 
 discriminating nomenclature for mental facts. We shall find that in 
 Locke and in Hume, English prose gained much in suppleness and 
 flexibility, but little in technical exactness. It is to the influence 
 of German writers that we owe the superior capacity of the present- 
 day English for philosophical expression. 
 
 There is one very important feature of Hobbes's style, which has
 
 Thomas Hobbes. ,'J") 
 
 been dwelt upon by Hallam, namely its uniformity. " Hobbes," says 
 this authority, " is perhaps the first of whom \ve can strictly say that 
 " hs is a good English writer, for the excellent passages of Hooper, 
 " Sidney, Ealeigh, Bacon, Taylor, Chillingworth, ami others of the 
 " Elizabethan or the first Stuart period are not sufficient to establish 
 " their claim, a good writer being one whose composition is nearly 
 " uniform, and who never sinks to such inferiority as we must confess 
 " in most of these." That Hobbes's prose is exceptionally regular is 
 manifest ; whether it is not too uniform for a perfect prose style is less 
 easily settled. The originality and force of his language, together 
 with the striking novelty of his thoughts, do much to keep us in- 
 terested and on the alert ; but as far as the style is concerned there is 
 little variety, and the regularity amounts almost to monotony. If 
 Hobbes surpasses Bacon in the mean level of excellence of composition, 
 as he no doubt does, yet Bacon far outstrips him in the artistic variety 
 of his sentences. Hobbes never rises to the pitch of a periodic style, 
 and is thus denied all the higher reaches of prose. He possesses no 
 feeling strong enough to force him out of his usual even pace. This 
 may be admirable for his philosophy, but it places very serious 
 limitations to the possibilities of prose. We must not hesitate, how- 
 ever, to pay him the honour due to the great forerunner, in point of 
 regularity and reliability, of the classic prose of later times. He has 
 written a philosophical prose that reads more like modern writing than 
 any other of this period. But Hobbes could attain to nothing of the 
 polish and artistic manipulation of Berkeley. The excellences of his 
 style are not sufficiently varied ; strength and force prevail to such an 
 extent as to leave no place for finer, subtler, and nobler qualities. It 
 would have been a great gain not only to his style, but indirectly to 
 his philosophy, if Hobbes had at times broken away from the regular 
 pattern of his ordinary prose. All topics cannot be dealt with in a 
 cast-iron, dogmatic, forceful fashion ; and there is much in speculative 
 thought and in human nature that demands refined and artistic treat- 
 ment, much that may call for eloquence and lofty periods. 
 
 Cognate with this lack of range and want of elevation is the utter 
 absence of the imaginative element. Hobbes's constructive power, 
 within the sphere of thought his mind can compass, is very great 
 iadeed. But his genius is for the concrete, the tangible, the practical, 
 the materialistic. He has no metaphysical imagination ; hence his 
 philosophy is confined to the common-sense view of mundane affairs.
 
 36 Thomas Hobbes. 
 
 He finds an ultimate solution in mechanical atomism. Here there is 
 no demand and no scope for imagination or fertile fancy. The highest 
 attainment in this direction is ingenuity in the construction of theories 
 and of working hypotheses. Such opinions and such gifts of mind 
 have very decided effects on style. While Bacon's imagination was 
 ever shewing itself, even in his driest mood, in the most picturesque 
 analogies, luxuriant figures, and charming fancies, Hobbes regards the 
 appearance in philosophy of a figure or any colouring of feeling or 
 imagination as an impertinence. If he ever does slip into figurative 
 speech, there is such a sober, quakerish air that we feel impressed that 
 it is not to be taken as ornament, but as an aid to the understanding. 
 The illustrations and analogies he allows himself are singularly happy 
 and ingenious. They are always apt, stick close to the sense, and 
 assist rather than divert the mind. We will give some instances of his 
 illustrative power : 
 
 " For thoughts are to the desires, as scouts and spies, to range 
 " abroad and find the way to things desired." x 
 
 " As standing water put into motion by. the stroke of a stone, 
 " or blast of wind, doth not presently give over moving as soon as 
 " the wind ceaseth, or the stone settleth, so neither doth the 
 " effect cease which the object hath wrought upon the brain, so 
 " soon as by the turning aside of the organs the object ceaseth to 
 " work ; that is to say, though the sense be past, the image or 
 " conception remaineth." 2 
 
 " Such are commonly the thoughts of men, that are not only 
 "without company, but also without care of anything; though 
 " even then their thoughts are as busy as at other times, but 
 ' ' without harmony ; as the sound which a lute out of tune would 
 " yield to any man ; or in tune, to one that could not play. And 
 " yet in this wild ranging of the mind, a man may oft-times per- 
 " ceive the way of it, and the dependence of one thought upon 
 " another. For in a discourse of our present civil war, what could 
 " be more impertinent than to ask, as one did, what was the value 
 " of a Eoman penny? Yet the coherence to me was manifest 
 " enough. For the thought of the war introduced the thought of 
 " the delivering up of the king to his enemies ; the thought of 
 " that brought in the thought of the delivering up of Christ ; and 
 
 1 Leviathan, Pt. i., Ch. yiii. (Molesworth's Ed.), p. 61. 
 
 2 Human Nature, Ch. Hi., p. 9 (Molesworth's Ed.).
 
 Thomas Hobbes. .'57 
 
 " that again the thought of the thirty pence, which was the price 
 " of that treason ; and thence easily followed that malicious qucs- 
 " tion ; and all this in a moment of time, for thought is quick.'' 1 
 The following shews Hobbes at his best in the use of figure and 
 contains a rare gem : 
 
 " Nature itself cannot err ; and as men abound in copiousness 
 " of language, so they become more wise, or more mad than 
 " ordinary. Nor is it possible without letters to become either 
 " excellently wise, or, unless his memory be hurt by disease or ill 
 " constitution of organs, excellently foolish. For words are wise 
 " men's counters, they do but reckon by them : but they are the 
 " money of fools, that value them by the authority of an Aristotle, 
 " a Cicero, or a Thomas, or any other doctor whatsoever, if but a 
 " man." 2 
 
 We find no pleasant wit sparkling in Hobbes's pages, though there 
 is at times an undercurrent of sarcasm beneath his serious sentiments. 
 The following is typical : 
 
 " A democracy, in effect, is no more than an aristocracy of 
 " orators, interrupted sometimes with the temporary monarchy 
 " of one orator." 3 
 
 Hobbes was a most careful composer, and never allows anything 
 slovenly to pass his pen. He attained to a clear-cut precision and 
 lucidity of style that we can never too much admire. But there was 
 that in the man himself and in his peculiar doctrines which excluded 
 from his writing one half of the qualities which it is possible for prose to 
 possess. There is a harshness and ruggedness that defies the approach 
 of beauty ; a force that spurns persuasion ; an unyielding rigour that 
 despises the smooth arts of eloquence. And can we wonder that 
 Hobbes should be all unconscious of the finer, the nobler, and the more 
 artistic resources of speech when it is a rank materialistic conception of 
 the universe he has to expound, a mechanical atomism as the last word 
 to offer,- and as low an estimate of human nature to propound as ever 
 philosopher has had the impudence to ask humanity to accept as an 
 appreciation of itself ? Just as certainly as doubt brings with it 
 paralysis and pessimism spells despair, materialism acts as a clog 
 and a low standard of human nature as a degradation and a blight to 
 
 i-Leviatfian, Pt. i., Ch. iii., p. 12 (Molesworth's Ed.). 
 *Ibid., Pt. i., Ch. iv., p. 25 (Molesworth's Ed.). 
 3 De Corpore Politico, Pt. ii., Ch. ii., Sec. 5.
 
 38 Thomas Hobbes. 
 
 literature. Here are some of the chief items of Hobbes's account of 
 the nature and constitution of man, of knowledge, and of society : 
 
 " Sense, therefore, is some internal motion in the sentient." 
 "Imagination is decaying sense." " Eeasoning is reckoning" and 
 of the nature of " adding and subtracting." " The alternate succes- 
 11 sion of appetite and fear ... is that we call deliberation.'" "In 
 " deliberation, the last appetite, as also the last fear, is called will." 
 " The wills of most men are governed only by fear." " Such a liberty 
 " as is free from necessity, is not to be found in the will either of men 
 "or beasts." "Every man doth in all his voluntary actions intend 
 " some good unto himself." " No man giveth, but with intention of 
 " good to himself." " The desire of injuring is innate in all. Man is 
 " to man a wolf." " Seeing then to the offensiveness of every man's 
 " nature one to another, there is added a right of every man to every- 
 " thing . . . the estate of men in this natural liberty, is the estate 
 "of war." "The natural state of man is non-moral, unregulated: 
 " moral rules are means to the end of peace, which is a means to the 
 " end of self-preservation." 
 
 Can any man be an inspiring advocate who intends to teach such 
 beliefs ? It was only a Hobbes who could conceive them and adhere 
 to them. In no one else's hands could they have been made to appear 
 anything but hateful. 
 
 Idealism may not be true, but if Hobbism be a realistic and satis- 
 factory account of the nature and capacity of man as he is or ever 
 has been, then human nature is no theme for literature. M. Taine 
 says of Hobbes, " He wiped out from the heart all noble and refined 
 " sentiments " ; " he cuts as with a surgeon's knife at the heart of the 
 " most living creeds." And along with such clearance of all noble 
 and refined sentiment goes all hope of noble and refined language. He 
 puts an ignoble, mechanical interpretation on everything of which he 
 desires an explanation, and invariably chooses the most frigid and 
 passionless language in which to express it. Wherever there might be 
 room for poetry, sentiment, or elevated feeling in the interpretation of 
 nature or man, knowledge or morals, there is an exhibition of the 
 wires and mechanism of a most unlovely working model. The richer 
 and more mellow qualities of literary style are not called for in ex- 
 pounding a philosophy of levers, and pulleys, and wooden theories, 
 and artificial definitions. Hobbes represents reality not in its natural 
 delicate shades, but in pigments crude and glaring. We find no
 
 Thomas Hobbcs. 39 
 
 twilight effects in his scenes. Every object must submit to the 
 scorching blaze of noonday. There is no attempt to drape the baldness 
 and angularity of his extremely logical and formal conceptions. There 
 is no charm of art, no allurements of imagination, no glow of 
 eloquence, no sway of periods, no lofty heart-stirring appeal. The 
 life and vigour so manifest do not produce profusion or richness. The 
 style would spurn such prodigal waste. All is cold as ice, automatic 
 as a machine. Hobbes's thought conies as if frozen into the very 
 sentences that contain it.
 
 III. 
 John Locke. 
 
 THE name of John Locke marks an era in more than one department 
 of modern thought. His works on religious toleration, politics, educa- 
 tion, and philosophy are landmarks in the several provinces to which 
 they belong. The Essay concerning Human Understanding, as his great 
 work is modestly entitled, is the book of books in our speculative literature. 
 Its author was a typical Englishman, endowed richly with prudence and 
 common sense, and manifesting an extreme dislike of paradoxes and a 
 keen appetite for facts. As a thinker, he had a natural aversion to all 
 theories of an imaginative and far-fetched character, a suspicion of 
 vast, artificial systems, a hatred of all intellectual sham, and a scientific 
 mind to the extent of preferring one fact to a whole world of theory. 
 He was a passionless, reasonable, pious man whose infatuation for 
 truth was matched by a sustained, practical zeal for liberty of thought 
 and the progress of knowledge. It was truth, whatever that might 
 prove to be, from the pursuit of which neither personal vanity nor the 
 heat of argument ever diverted him. Though a thinker of great 
 originality and power, he was wanting in constructive genius. He was 
 no system-builder, and was apt to be satisfied with fragmentary truth. 
 By an intellect solid rather than brilliant, cautious and practical rather 
 than daring or visionary, he contributed much towards the elucidation 
 of those problems to the solution of which he set himself. He was an 
 unostentatious worker whose influence has been due entirely to genuine 
 power of thought. Such a man could not be a metaphysician, but he 
 excelled as an empirical psychologist. Voltaire, when giving his 
 impressions of England, wrote : " Such a Multitude of Eeasoners 
 " having written a Eomance of the Soul, a Sage at last arose, who 
 " gave, with an Air of the greatest Modesty, the History of it. Mr. 
 " Locke has display 'd the Human Soul, in the same manner as an 
 "excellent Anatomist explains the Springs of the human Body." 1 
 Thus when Locke essays to examine human knowledge, it is not in 
 
 1 Voltaire's Letters concerning Hie English Nation (English, 1733), Letter No. xiii.
 
 John Locke. 41 
 
 order to erect a system, or to perform anything of a very brilliant or 
 astounding character, but simply to find out the way where truth lies 
 and to lay bare and exterminate some of the roots of prejudice and 
 error. 
 
 Locke may be said to have begun the modern systematic study of 
 the human mind and its contents. In such empirical investigation by 
 introspection he excelled ; and his research resulted in the most 
 thorough and elaborate account of the human understanding that had 
 as yet been given. Really to appreciate the literary style in which 
 Locke carried out his work, we must consider it with constant refer- 
 ence to the peculiar character of his undertaking. It is, indeed, a 
 significant fact that the man who holds a foremost place in the history 
 of English philosophy, is usually assigned so unenviable a position in 
 the history of our literature. And this is the more noteworthy when 
 we consider that, excepting only Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, Locke's 
 Essay concerning Human Understanding is the single great masterpiece 
 of the last part of the Seventeenth Century ; and that, as a speculative 
 treatise, it has had a unique fortune in point of popularity and wide- 
 spread, definite influence. The explanation usually given for such 
 literary depreciation of Locke is, that the value of the Essay lies 
 chiefly in the originality and worth of the thought, and that with this 
 literature has no concern. But even if a clear line could be drawn 
 between the manner and matter of an art, yet it would appear a bad 
 principle of criticism to consider the mode of expression or the plan of 
 construction of a piece of literature without any reference to the 
 character of the thought. The form of the Epic, as contrasted with 
 that of the Sonnet, is determined by the subject. Are we, then, to 
 expect in philosophical prose those qualities which are suitable for the 
 style of a light Essay or a Eomance ? But the average literary savant 
 abominates the very name of philosophy, and has little interest in 
 what appear to him its dry-as-dust discussions. In such cases there is 
 scant justice done to those literary features most essential to the 
 exposition of abstract and difficult thought. Speculative writings have 
 seriously suffered by the unsympathetic handling of men whose one 
 idea is artistic production. Locke's Essay has been no exception, 
 though in many respects it least deserves it, for Locke did his utmost 
 to make it palatable. But if the unwilling critic plods religiously 
 through its pages, he probably takes his revenge by dubbing its style 
 "dull," "monotonous," "humdrum," "bald," "inelegant," "crabbed,"
 
 42 John Locke. 
 
 " bad." Such terms are considered quite adequate to characterise 
 some of the world's greatest philosophical masterpieces by critics who 
 do not shew the least appreciation of the requirements of a philo- 
 sophical prose. But is it not folly to consign Aristotle, Kant, and 
 Locke to literary perdition ? A great teacher of philosophy may, and 
 probably will, lack certain powers of execution most admired and 
 affected by the litterateur, but there are others of which he must not 
 be destitute, namely, those peculiarly demanded by the nature of his 
 subject-matter. It might be admitted that, judged by the ideal of 
 pure literature, the above epithets, as applied to Locke's style, are 
 justifiable, though even on this point there is much diversity of 
 opinion. But is this a correct standpoint from which to criticise 
 Locke ? We are not here dealing with a man who has chosen some 
 literary topic in order to write brilliantly. An appreciation of the 
 exigencies of the matter is necessary for an intelligent criticism and 
 a fair estimate of the manner of such a work as the Essay. Locke's 
 aim was not pure letters, but philosophical exposition. There is 
 art for a purpose as well as art for art's sake ; and written philosophy 
 may be a contribution, and a very noble contribution, to literature, 
 though it is far from being literature for literature's sake. We cannot 
 blame the world if it makes the works of Locke immortal while it 
 allows those of the man "who can write about Nothing like a 
 " gentleman " to become obsolete. 
 
 But in appreciating our author it is also important to have in mind 
 the literary characteristics of the period in which he lived. Locke's 
 prose is the very embodiment of such an ideal medium as the spirit of 
 the times led men to adopt. It was the age in which the modern 
 scientific movement was beginning to tell upon the nation's life and 
 thought. The whole intellectual atmosphere was changing as the result 
 of the breezes of a freer and fresher knowledge. But while science 
 flourished literature declined. This was due to the fact that the 
 post-Eestoration prose was transitional and was of importance chiefly 
 for its reaction against the florid, disordered, high-flown manner of 
 expression which had been the vice of the average prose of the age of 
 Elizabeth and the Commonwealth. Compared with these epochs, the 
 period marked by Locke is one of prosaic fact, being dominated by the 
 fascination of a somewhat unromantic, unpoetical, scientific study of 
 nature. Much of the prose of the time is a literal, commonplace retailing 
 of matters of fact. Literature is very sensitive to the predominant spirit
 
 John, Locke. 43 
 
 of the times and this is peculiarly the case with the post-Restoration 
 writing. Nearly all the men of talent and learning who were a force in 
 the intellectual life of England, literary men as well as scientific, poets 
 as well as prose writers, were members of the then lately founded Royal 
 Society. This institution had an important literary influence, and was 
 a sufficiently near approach to the French Academy to set a certain 
 fashion in English prose. Its action in the matter was not formal, but 
 resulted from the fashion set by the literary standards adopted by its 
 members. This reaction, led by the members of the Society, may be 
 best appreciated by reading that section of Thos. Sprat's History of the 
 Royal Society in which " Their Manner of Discourse" is described, and is 
 spoken of as a not unimportant phase of their work and influence. 
 " They have therefore been most rigorous in putting in execution, the 
 " only Remedy, that can be found for this extravagance [in speech] : 
 " and that has been, a constant Resolution to reject all amplifications, 
 " digressions, and swellings of style : to return back to the primitive 
 " purity, and shortness, when men deliver'd so many things, almost in 
 " an equal number of words. They have exacted from all their members, 
 " a close, naked, natural way of speaking ; positive expressions ; clear 
 " senses ; a native easiness : bringing all things as near the Mathematical 
 " plainness, as they can : and preferring the language of Artizans, 
 " Countrymen, and Merchants, before that of Wits, or Scholars." 1 
 In no writer can this ideal prose of the Royal Society be better studied 
 than in Locke. The Essay stands for the best that the typical member 
 could do in the way of prose : while its shortcomings are those fostered 
 by the very imperfect ideal which the scientific spirit created. 
 
 Let us endeavour to appreciate the qualities of the writings by which 
 Locke has had so immense an influence on the development not only of 
 English, but also of French and German speculation. As a philosopher, 
 Locke may be described as a man of one book. His only other 
 writings on the subject, besides the Essay concerning Human Under- 
 standing, are the three posthumous tracts written during his later life, 
 The Conduct of the Understanding, An Examination of P. Malebranche' s 
 opinion of seeing all things in God, and Remarks upon some of 
 Mr. Norris's Books. The first of these minor writings is really an 
 unfinished chapter intended for the Essay. The second was also 
 originally written as a chapter for the Essay, but friendliness towards 
 
 1 The History of the Royal Society, by Thos. Sprat (1667), Pt. ii., Sec. xx.
 
 44 John Locke. 
 
 Malebranche prevented him from publishing it. These posthumous 
 writings are only of slight importance for our purpose. We are chiefly 
 concerned with the Essay. 
 
 Locke himself was far from being satisfied with the form of the 
 Essay. He tells us it was "written by incoherent parcels; and after 
 " long intervals of neglect, resumed again, as my humour or occasions 
 "permitted; and at last, in a retirement, where an attendance on my 
 " health gave me leisure, it was brought into that order thou now 
 " seest it. ... The farther I went, the larger prospect I had: new 
 " discoveries led me on, and so it grew insensibly to the bulk it now 
 " appears in. I will not deny, but possibly it might be reduced to a 
 " narrower compass than it is ; and that some part of it might be 
 " contracted ; the way it has been writ in, by catches, and many 
 " long intervals of interruption, being apt to cause some repeti- 
 tions." 1 It is certain that the order in which the topics presented 
 themselves to the author's mind was very different from that in 
 which they stand in the completed Essay. Locke appears to 
 have first followed the natural train of his own thought, with its 
 centre of interest in human knowledge. Having determined the 
 possibilities and limits of knowledge, he then analysed the elements 
 contained in actual experience. Lastly he reconstructed his materials, 
 finishing where he at first began. This rearrangement in the 
 reverse order in which he thought out the problems seems to have 
 been determined by motives of logical sequence. It is probable that 
 Book iv. was written first, and not last as its position in the Essay 
 would suggest, then the main part of Book ii., then Book iii. and the 
 remainder of Book ii., and last of all Book i. We get a truer con- 
 ception of Locke's aim and of the historical development of his thought, 
 if we begin reading the Fourth Book instead of the First. For there 
 is a considerable change in the philosophical spirit from Book i. with 
 its tinge of rationalism, to Book ii. with its simple introspection and 
 decided empiricism. The discussion of Innate Principles at the 
 commencement of the treatise is nothing like so effective as it would 
 have been if it had followed the substance of Book iv. 
 
 Locke no doubt greatly improved the logical plan of the Essay by 
 departing from the order in which he worked out the parts, but he lost 
 considerably in organic unity and natural sequence. He was not 
 careful enough with the literary reconstruction, and the plan has 
 
 1 Essay, Epistle to the Header-
 
 John Locke. 45 
 
 become somewhat disorganised and dislocated. The hearing of the 
 parts is not made manifest, and the exposition as a whole does not 
 unfold in the facile manner that it nrght have done. It is apt 
 to present itself as a mere string of detailed and detached analyses, 
 interspersed with illustrations, maxims, and practical considerations. 
 This may be avoided to a great extent by first getting the broader 
 survey of the Fourth Book and entering into its spirit. The worst 
 effect of writing " by incoherent parcels " is a diffuseness and repetition 
 that is perhaps the most objectionable fault of the Essay. The modes 
 of expression in which thoughts are reintroduced are not sufficiently 
 varied. An old section is often re-inserted, with very little alteration, 
 into a new context, where a mere reference or a gentle reminder would 
 have sufficed. This desire for explicit logical completeness, we shall 
 find, reappears in Locke's construction of sentences. 
 
 It might be thought that the highest possibilities of English prose 
 as a philosophical medium had been exhausted in such styles as those 
 of Bacon and Hobbes; but we find in the Essay a third distinct type, 
 differing essentially from its predecessors, and possessing many new 
 and excellent qualities for the exposition of abstract thought. The first 
 and most characteristic quality of Locke's writing is the simplicity of 
 his English. So far from writing in Latin, as Hobbes and Bacon had 
 done to some extent, Locke used the most untechnical, idiomatic, and 
 familiar English he could command. His powers of expressing abstract 
 thought in such a medium are very great indeed, perhaps unequalled. 
 To characterise briefly this most important quality of his prose, we 
 need only repeat the description of the mode of expression adopted by 
 the members of the Eoyal Society as " the language of Artizans, 
 " Countrymen, and Merchants." It was with this instrument that he 
 deliberately essayed to trace out the intricate labyrinths of knowledge. 
 If in some degree he failed in precision, owing to this comparative 
 roughness of his tools, the man of letters cannot, at any rate, complain 
 of technicalities or a distrust of the mother tongue. The effect of this 
 simple, homespun style, void of formalism and pedantry, has been 
 very far-reaching. It consecrated the common speech of our country 
 as the medium of our native abstract thought ; it decided that England 
 was to have a philosophical literature that could appeal to the nation and 
 be brought into touch with the spirit of the times ; and it hardly did less 
 to determine what was to be the characteristic tone of English specula- 
 tive thought than to set a model for its literary medium. In his choice
 
 46 John Locke. 
 
 of his native tongue as the sole vehicle of his thoughts to Englishmen, 
 Locke completed that rupture with the past which neither Bacon nor 
 Hobbes had the heart to make. Locke carried on with eagerness the 
 polemic against bygone systems and their forms of expression. He 
 was just the man to get rid of the last traces of pedantry and dead 
 symbolism ; and the times were peculiarly favourable, for not only was 
 a more scientific, matter-of-fact treatment demanded, but the leaders 
 of the literary movement were themselves carrying on a revolution 
 against the swollen, intricate, and often bombastic prose of the past. 
 Locke's masterpiece, so far as its language was concerned, could be 
 read with ease by anyone who had even a small acquaintance with the 
 literature of the day, and it needed no previous special training for an 
 average intelligent Englishman to understand its arguments and follow 
 its thought ; for Locke's thoughts are as homespun as his style. He 
 was never a great reader ; he is the antipodes of an eclectic ; and 
 references to systems of philosophy are conspicuous by their absence. 
 It was these features, together with its common-sense point of view, its 
 ring of candour, and its practical bearings, that made the Essay so 
 potent a factor in the intellectual life of England in the eaiiy 
 Eighteenth Century. It was perused by a very miscellaneous class of 
 readers, scientists, statesmen, gentlemen, men of the world, and 
 religious people. It was not a book intended for the Schools, in whose 
 quibbles and endless wranglings its author had no interest. It was a 
 book for the nation, and the nation speedily made it its own. 
 
 Locke often writes against the false arts of rhetoric and the dangers 
 of figurative modes of speaking. We should remember, however, that 
 the period was in violent reaction against the obscurity, the long- 
 windedness, and the high-pitched utterances so fashionable in the past. 
 Hence Locke's remarks against the ornaments of language appear 
 more extravagant to us who are not accustomed to those excesses of 
 speech against which they were directed. Locke's style is not so 
 devoid of figures and analogies as we should expect if we were to 
 take his judgments on prose style quite literally. Still, the reaction, 
 and Locke with it, went to the opposite extreme, even to the point 
 of inelegance and baldness. But the movement did its work ; for in 
 Locke's prose there is no bombast, and very little ornament ; of 
 interminable sentences he has quite got rid, and extravagances of 
 language are abolished. He puts his thoughts as clearly and intel- 
 ligibly as possible ; there is no attempt to give them importance by
 
 John Locke. 47 
 
 greatness of speech, or an appearance of depth by obscure utterance, 
 or plausibility by the artifices of rhetoric. In order that we may 
 vividly realise this style, we quote the following passage, in which 
 dignity, and even stateliness, of tone is attained by simple words and 
 easy sentences : 
 
 " The infinitely wise Contriver of us, and all things about 
 " us, hath fitted our senses, faculties, and organs, to the con- 
 ' veniences of life, and the business we have to do here. We are 
 " able, by our senses, to know and distinguish things ; and to 
 " examine them so far, as to apply them to our uses, and several 
 " ways to accommodate the exigencies of this life. We have 
 " insight enough into their admirable contrivances, and wonderful 
 " effects, to admire and magnify the wisdom, power, and goodness 
 " of their Author. Such a knowledge as this, which is suited to 
 " our present condition, we want not faculties to attain. But it 
 " appears not that God intended we should have a perfect, clear, 
 " and adequate knowledge of them : that perhaps is not in the 
 " comprehension of any finite being. We are furnished with 
 " faculties (dull and weak as they are) to discover enough in the 
 " creatures, to lead us to the knowledge of the Creator, and the 
 "knowledge of our duty; and we are fitted well enough with 
 " abilities to provide for the conveniences of living: these are our 
 " business in this world. But were our senses altered, and made 
 " much quicker and acuter, the appearance and outward scheme of 
 " things would have quite another face to us ; and I am apt to 
 " think, would be inconsistent with our being, or at least well- 
 " being, in this part of the universe which we inhabit." 1 
 The following is the famous passage on " substance," and is very 
 characteristic of Locke : 
 
 " So that if anyone will examine himself concerning his notion 
 " of pure substance in general, he will find he has no other idea of 
 " it at all, but only a supposition of he knows not what support of 
 " such qualities, which are capable of producing simple ideas in 
 "us; which qualities are commonly called accidents. If any one 
 " should be asked, what is the subject wherein colour or weight 
 " inheres, he would have nothing to say, but the solid extended 
 " parts : and if he were demanded, what is it that solidity and 
 " extension adhere in, he would not be in a much better case than 
 
 1 Essay, Bk. ii., Ch. xxiii., Sec. xii.
 
 48 John Locke. 
 
 " the Indian before-mentioned, who saying that the world was 
 
 " supported by a great elephant, was asked, what the elephant 
 
 " rested on ? To which his answer was, a great tortoise : but 
 
 " being again pressed to know what gave support to the broad- 
 
 " backed tortoise, replied, something, he knew not what." 1 
 
 That this concession to the general reader was a real sacrifice of 
 
 accuracy and precision is shewn by that fact that the great shortcoming 
 
 of the Essay, as philosophical prose, is the lack of any adequate 
 
 technical exactness in terms. Popular language and every-day idioms 
 
 are used too exclusively to admit of unerring definiteness and 
 
 unambiguity in the expression of subtle thought. There is a looseness 
 
 and obscurity at most vital points of the exposition, arising from the 
 
 employment of vague, common words, and the absence of technicalities. 
 
 One instance, the most manifest and important, will suffice to shew this. 
 
 The very core of Locke's system depends upon an examination of what 
 
 he denotes by the general and indefinite term, the " idea." This 
 
 word has to indicate, in turn, each of a jumble of most important 
 
 psychological elements, which ought to have been distinguished by 
 
 at least half-a-dozen technical terms precisely denned. The vague 
 
 indefiniteness of the term is shewn by the definition which Locke gives 
 
 at the outset, Idea signifies " phantasm, notion, species, or what- 
 
 " ever it is, which the mind can be employed about in thinking." 2 
 
 The following are some of the many widely different meanings in which 
 
 the word is used : 
 
 (a) Idea = sensation. " Concerning the simple ideas of sensation." 
 e.g. " ideas of heat and cold, light and darkness, white and black, 
 " motion and rest." " Some faint ideas of hunger." 
 
 (6) Idea = feeling. " Though what I have here said may not perhaps 
 " make the ideas of pleasure and pain clearer to us than our own 
 " experience does." 
 
 (c) Idea = image. " The only way of retention is the power to 
 " revive again, in our minds those ideas which after imprinting have 
 " disappeared, or have been as it were laid aside out of sight ; and this 
 " we use when we conceive heat or light, yellow or sweet, the object 
 " being removed." 
 
 (d) Idea=percept. " Our ideas being nothing but actual perceptions 
 " in the mind." 
 
 1 Essay, Bk. ii., Ch. xxiii., Sec. ii. 
 
 2 Ibid., Intro., Sec. viii.
 
 John Locke. 49 
 
 (e) Idea = concept. "Abstract ideas." " Substance " = " the idea 
 " of we know not what support of such qualities which are capable of 
 " producing simple ideas in us." 
 
 (/) Idea = imagination. " The idea of a centaur." 
 
 But apart from vagueness in the use of important terms, and 
 looseness due to the attempt to replace philosophical nomenclature by 
 untechnical modes of expression, Locke's vernacular is occasionally 
 ambiguous simply through want of care in composition. The following 
 sentence is a case in point. " There is nothing more evident, than that 
 " the ideas of the persons children converse with (to instance in them 
 " alone), are like the persons themselves, only particular." Here we 
 have to gather from the succeeding sentence that what is meant by 
 " the ideas of the persons children converse with" is, the ideas which 
 children have of the persons they converse with. 
 
 Another weakness inherent in a style that adapts itself to popular 
 modes of speech is the liability to lapse into a colloquial and too 
 familiar manner of address. In many passages of the Essay we notice 
 such a tendency, giving rise to a free and even careless air very different 
 from the formality of Hobbes and the dignity of Bacon. Though many 
 of these colloquial paragraphs are invaluable as easy methods of exposi- 
 tion yet, in places, it would be difficult to defend Locke against the 
 charge of slovenliness. But this degeneration was the besetting sin of 
 the prose of the period. Locke certainly never becomes common or 
 coarse or vulgar as does so much of the contemporary literature. In 
 this respect Hallain has justly said, " Locke is certainly a good writer, 
 " relatively to the greater part of his contemporaries." When we have 
 said our worst of the style of the Essay there is an engagingness in its 
 native simplicity which endears it to the reader. 
 
 A second very important aspect of our author's writing is the types 
 of sentence he adopts. Of these, there are, in the main, three, of 
 which the syllogistic form, as it may be called, is the most striking. 
 This kind of composition predominates in all the severer sections of 
 the Essay and is quite a characteristic feature. Completeness and 
 sequence of the clauses indicate the logical coherence and connection 
 of the thought. This method of combining in the sentence, ground and 
 consequence, premisses and conclusion, now first makes its appearance 
 as a specific type in our philosophical prose. It is the result of Locke's 
 extremely logical and undogmatic cast of mind. In the case of Bacon 
 the secret of power lay in vividness of expression, brilliance of imagery,
 
 50 John Locke. 
 
 gorgeous colouring of fancy, and glowing eloquence; in the case of 
 Hobbes, in the sheer vigour and force of utterance. The peculiarity of 
 Locke's prose, on the other hand, does not consist in the weight of the 
 word, the force of the phrase, the artificial precision of statement, the 
 fascination of ornament or the charm of rhetoric, but rather in the 
 cunning logical web of the sentence as a whole. Each thread, in itself, 
 is of little strength or beauty ; it is the intimate structure of the written 
 texture, woven out of unassuming, even unprepossessing words and 
 clauses, that gives it durability and worth. Each complex sentence of 
 this kind, is intended to stand or fall on its own merits. The effect of 
 such a manner of writing is not cumulative, like that of eloquence ; the 
 author's aim is not to produce a general tone of feeling, but to lead us to 
 certain definite propositions by the simple process of the logical syllogism. 
 The ideal of such a type of construction of sentence is, that it should 
 contain within itself the premisses of its own conclusion. To achieve 
 this, there is a constant introduction of clauses with a present participle, 
 giving the ground of the statement which follows in the body of the 
 sentence. Hence also the very frequent use of the logical particles, 
 " if," " since," " therefore," " thus," "for," " as," " because," "seeing 
 " that," " so that." Perhaps this method of building the sentence is to be 
 considered Scholastic in origin. If so, then Locke has not quite succeeded 
 in freeing his exposition from the style of mediaeval systems. It is 
 certainly an important property of philosophical prose that the sentence 
 should adapt itself easily to a strict syllogistic form. Few writers 
 could be treated in this way better than Locke. The following quota- 
 tions will illustrate the type of sentence we have been considering : 
 
 " Since, therefore, whatsoever is the first eternal being, must 
 " necessarily be cogitative ; and whatsoever is first of all things, 
 " must necessarily contain in it, and actually have, at least, all the 
 " perfections that can ever after exist : nor can it ever give to 
 " another any perfection that it hath not, either actually in itself, 
 " or at least in a higher degree: it necessarily follows that the first 
 " Eternal being cannot be matter. If therefore it be evident, that 
 " something necessarily must exist from eternity, it is also evident 
 " that that something must necessarily be a cogitative Being: for 
 " it is as impossible, that incogitative matter should produce a 
 " cogitative Being, as that nothing, or the negation of all being, 
 "should produce a positive being or matter." 1 
 
 1 Essay, Bk. iv., Ch. x., Sees. 10, 11.
 
 John Locke. 51 
 
 " For certainty being but the perception of the agreement or dis- 
 
 " agreement of our ideas; and demonstration nothing but the per- 
 
 " ception of such agreement, by the intervention of other ideas, or 
 
 " mediums, our moral ideas, as well as mathematical, being 
 
 "archetypes themselves, and so adequate and complete ideas; all 
 
 " the agreement or disagreement which we shall find in them, will 
 
 " produce real knowledge, as well as in mathematical figures." 1 
 
 There are some very ill effects of this manner of composition. It 
 
 is too artificial to allow of a facile style. The mind is kept too taut, 
 
 and is not allowed sufficient freedom. The order of the clauses is 
 
 rarely the most natural, and the writing becomes over explicit and not 
 
 sufficiently suggestive. It is this strictly logical style that makes 
 
 Locke's prose in many parts intricate and laboured, in spite of the 
 
 simplicity of the diction. 
 
 But the second type of sentence to which we would draw attention 
 has even worse effects than the frequent use of those with a syllogistic 
 framework. The latter, at any rate, attain logical sequence and unity, 
 though it may be at considerable cost. But in many sentences 
 qualifying clauses, modifying words, and complicating factors are 
 introduced to such an extent and in such a haphazard, unpremeditated 
 way, and the thoughts are allowed to straggle out in so disordered a 
 fashion, that all structure and unity are lost. It is these sentences that 
 hamper so much our author's prose, for they limp and hesitate in a 
 most unpleasant fashion. The mind finds its way through the tangle 
 with difficulty ; we are no sooner started on a train of thought than 
 we are pulled up by a distracting word or phrase, or our attention is 
 dragged into a most unnatural direction. Such jerky, erratic, tortuous 
 sentences enhance the pleasure we find in Locke's third manner of 
 writing, namely, in smooth easy periods composed of short, natural, 
 flexible sentences. This is the manner in which the major part of the 
 Essay is written. Even subjects difficult of exposition are effectively 
 treated in this truly modern English style. The sentences are not too 
 complex, and not in the least stilted, and the natural order of the 
 thought is aided by unaffected, unembarrassed fluency of expression. 
 Contrast the following passages. The first will illustrate the dislocated, 
 awkward sentence, lacking unity and structure ; the second will re- 
 present Locke's facile natural style : 
 
 " One may perceive how, by degrees, afterwards, ideas come 
 
 1 Essay, Bk. iv., Ch. iv., Sec. vii.
 
 52 John Locke. 
 
 " into their minds ; and that they get no more, nor no other, than 
 ' what experience, and the observation of things that come in 
 " their way, furnish them with, which might be enough to satisfy 
 " us that they are not original characters stamped on the mind." 1 
 " The next thing to be considered is, how general words come 
 " to be made. For since all things that exist are only particulars, 
 " how come we by general terms, or where find we those general 
 " natures they are supposed to stand for. Words become general, 
 " by being made the signs of general ideas : and ideas become 
 " general, by separating them from the circumstances of time, and 
 " place, and any other ideas that may determine them to this or 
 " that particular existence. By this way of abstraction, they are 
 " made capable of representing more individuals than one; each 
 " of which having in it a conformity to that abstract idea, is (as 
 " we call it) of that sort." 2 
 
 The third marked feature of our author's prose is its aptness in 
 figure and illustration. The Essay abounds in various artifices whereby 
 the subject may be made more concrete, and the exposition luminous 
 and realistic. % This is the secret of Locke's frequent employment of 
 figures ; and it is with reference to this manner of exposition that 
 Hallam has said of Locke, what to most critics will appear strange, 
 that "he is often too figurative for the subject." Figurative in the 
 sense in which we apply that term to Bacon, Locke never is. In the 
 Essay a figure is not for ornament, but for exposition ; it is not the 
 result of a prolific imagination, but of vivid conception. Locke's mind 
 delighted in facts and experiments, in the concrete rather than in the 
 abstract ; hence his constant use of illustrations, examples, and 
 analogies. Empirical philosophy, emphasising as it does the im- 
 portance of the individual, particular facts of experience, lends itself 
 peculiarly to the manner of illustrating doctrines that is so charac- 
 teristic of Locke. To be quite strict, we should describe this feature 
 of the prose of the Essay by saying that figures are plentiful while 
 figurative language is rare. That is to say, a figure is generally intro- 
 duced explicitly as such, and is not surreptitiously introduced into the 
 language of the exposition. It does not seem that the figures Locke 
 used led to any confusion there may be in his thinking, or to any 
 obscurity in his writing. And if they are not true to fact, they are 
 
 1 Essay, Bk. i., Ch. iv., Sec. ii. 
 
 2 Ibid., Bk. Hi., Ch. iii., Sec. vi.
 
 John Locki'. 53 
 
 true, to a nicety, to his conception of fact, and indeed are often the 
 means of our getting the most asact and clear notion of what his views 
 really were. Every reader of Locke knows how important for the 
 exposition are those adopted figures the "tabula rasa" of the mind 
 upon which ideas are stamped, and the impression of wax by the seal 
 to represent the process of sensation and that more original figure, 
 "association" of ideas. These devices indicate most precisely the 
 psychological doctrines of the Essay. We quote the following passage 
 as interesting in this connection, since Locke was the first to use the 
 expression "association of Ideas": 
 
 " Besides this, there is another connection of ideas wholly 
 " owing to chance or custom ; ideas that in themselves are not all 
 " of kin, come to be so united in some men's minds, that it is very 
 " hard to separate them ; they always keep in company, and the 
 " one no sooner at any time comes into the understanding, but its 
 " associate appears with it ; and if they are more than two, which 
 " are thus united, the whole gang, always inseparable, shew them- 
 " selves together." 1 
 
 Some of Locke's analogies are very quaint and ingenious, and shew 
 considerable inventive power. The following is the realistic way in 
 which he describes Malebranche's theory of seeing ah 1 things in 
 God: 
 
 " To conceive thus of the soul's intimate union with an infinite 
 " being, and by that union receiving of ideas, leads one as 
 " naturally into as gross thoughts, as a country maid would have 
 "of an infinite butter-print, in which was engraven figures of all 
 "sorts and sizes, the several parts whereof being, as there .was 
 " occasion, applied to her lump of butter, left on it the figure or 
 " idea there was present need of." 2 
 
 In speaking of the abuses of language, Locke uses a very apt 
 
 analogy." He says that men who have no definite meaning for the 
 
 words they use are " seldom to be convinced that they are in the 
 
 " wrong ; it being all one to go about to draw those men out of 
 
 " their mistakes, who have no settled notions, as to dispossess a 
 
 " vagrant of his habitation who has no settled abode." 3 
 
 Occasionally we find Locke indulging in a more artistic and less 
 
 1 Essay, Bk. ii., Ch. xxxiii., Sec. v. 
 
 ' 2 An Examination of P. Malebranche's Opinion of seeing all things in God. Sec. xix. 
 3 Essay, Bk. iii., Ch. x., Sec. iv.
 
 54 John Locke. 
 
 didactic use of figures. The following passage, from the Conduct of 
 the Understanding, reveals him in his highest and happiest mood : 
 
 "It is not wise to play with error, and dress it up to ourselves 
 
 " or others in the shape of truth. . . . There are so many ways 
 
 " of fallacy, such arts of giving colours, appearances, and resem- 
 
 " blances by this court dresser, the fancy, that he who is not w r ary 
 
 " to admit nothing but truth itself, very careful not to make his 
 
 " mind subservient to anything else, cannot but be caught. He 
 
 " that has a mind to believe, has half assented already ; and he 
 
 " that by often arguing against his own sense, imposes falsehood 
 
 " on others, is not far from believing himself. This takes away 
 
 " the great distance there is betwixt truth and falsehood ; it brings 
 
 " them almost together, and makes no great odds, in things that 
 
 " approach so near, which you take ; and when things are brought 
 
 " to that pass, passion or interest, etc., easily and without being 
 
 " perceived, determine which shall be the right." 1 
 
 But Locke is most adept at exemplification. The homeliness of his 
 
 illustrations and examples matches his untechnical language and 
 
 practical thought. They are drawn to a large extent from his 
 
 knowledge of science and medicine, and are well adapted to his 
 
 empirical doctrines. In expounding psychological truths, and making 
 
 illusive mental facts vivid, Locke's powers are very great. Here there 
 
 is full scope for examples ; and these not only aid the exposition of 
 
 abstract truths but also form the data upon which those abstract truths 
 
 are based. He not only supplies abundance of examples, but the 
 
 example is generally an organic part of the teaching. His interest in 
 
 all branches of knowledge and all occupations of life, and especially his 
 
 medical and scientific training, served him in good stead. Th^ 
 
 following is very typical of Locke's exemplification of great truths : 
 
 " Who perceives not, that a child certainly knows that a 
 " stranger is not its mother, that its sucking-bottle is not the rod, 
 " long before he knows that ' It is impossible for the same thing to 
 " ' be, and not to be.' " 2 
 
 We are aware of the doctor and physiologist at every point of the 
 Essay, and no department of knowledge could supply materials more 
 
 useful for the point of view which Locke takes of the mind and its 
 
 
 
 1 Conduct of the Under statiding, Sec. xxxiii. 
 
 2 Essay, Bk. iv., Ch. vii., Sec. ix.
 
 John Locke. 55 
 
 functions. The following is an example given of the association of 
 ideas : 
 
 " A friend of mine knew one perfectly cured of madness by a 
 " very harsh and offensive operation. The gentleman, who was 
 " thus recovered, with great sense of gratitude and acknowledge- 
 " ment, owned the cure all his life after, as the greatest obligation 
 " he could have received ; but whatever gratitude and reason 
 " suggested to him, he could never bear the sight of the operator: 
 " that image brought back with it the idea of that agony which he 
 " suffered from his hands, which was too mighty and intolerable 
 " for him to endure." * 
 
 One illustration Locke is very fond of, is the operation for cataract. 
 " If others love cataracts in their eyes, should that hinder me 
 " from couching of mine as soon as I can ? " 2 
 
 All sorts of scientific and commonplace facts are introduced to serve 
 as instances and illustrations. This was entirely in harmony with the 
 interests of the day, and shews us our author as a typical member of 
 the Koyal Society. The ploughman, dancing master, cobbler, opium, 
 wax, gold, clocks, mirrors, centaurs, the loadstone, the microscopic 
 appearance of sand and blood, etc., are introduced in the most offhand 
 way, and some are repeated to such an extent as to become very stale. 
 But all these things indicate what we ever feel in reading Locke, 
 that breadth of view, that interest in all things human, and that candid 
 open-mindedness which he so cultivated, and whose opposite he con- 
 demns in the following choice passage : 
 
 " They converse but with one sort of men, they read but one 
 " sort of books, they will not come in the hearing but of one sort 
 " of notions; the truth is, they canton out to themselves a little 
 " Goshen in the intellectual world, where light shines, and, as 
 " they conclude, day blesses them ; but the rest of that vast 
 " expansion they gave up to night and darkness, and so avoid 
 " coming near it." 3 
 
 It is rare for a man to be dominated by the scientific instinct and, 
 at the same time, to be a literary genius ; and certainly the w^eak side 
 of Locke's character was the feebleness of his artistic imagination and 
 aesthetic sense. There is no positive ugliness in his style ; there are 
 
 1 Essay, Bk. ii., Ch. xxxiii., Sec. xiv. 
 3 Conduct of the Understanding, Sec. x. 
 3 Ibid., Sec. iii.
 
 56 John Locke. 
 
 some natural graces ; but Locke has not sufficient artistic interest to 
 aim at any higher classic charm. From a literary point of view, it was 
 an unfortunate age he represented ; an age that spent its best energies 
 in amassing facts rather than in creating masterpieces of literature or 
 art. And Locke, though a thinker of great originality and penetration, 
 was not gifted with constructive power to balance his analytical keen- 
 ness. He was no system-builder, and was too easily satisfied with 
 fragmentary and partial truth. He avoided ultimate issues, and his 
 speculation was tethered by his common sense and prudence. His 
 dislike of metaphysics, and his suspicion of over-subtleness in theory, 
 prevented a thorough-going development of his principles to their 
 legitimate conclusions. Hence the decidedly narrow scope of his 
 doctrines. When Locke got to a certain point he refused to go beyond, 
 though he could give no satisfactory reason as to why so far but no 
 further. To the very end of the Essay we are conscious of the narrow 
 limits prescribed by a practical, prosaic interest. 
 
 The possibilities of Locke's prose are very restiicted owing to 
 the narrow scope of the empiricism to which he confines himself. 
 Empiricism is a theme for mediocre treatment ; there is in it no room 
 for high literary attainment either in structure or execution ; there are 
 not the impressive ideas that give the very soul to other philosophies. 
 The Essay has none of the brilliance of a dazzling metaphysic, nor the 
 elevation of a sublime ideal, nor the fascination of a restless striving 
 after the ultimate bourne of knowledge and destiny, nor yet the 
 solemnity that comes from a sense of the inscrutable unknown. Locke 
 on some topics could be eloquent, but in his philosophy he had not a 
 theme that could make him so. 
 
 The Essay is as faithful a reflection of the character and temperament 
 of its author as any book in the language. Its simple, artless, homely 
 style ; its shrewd, practical deliverances ; its modest unostentatious 
 execution ; its calm unheated argument ; its scientific impartiality, 
 catholic spirit and breadth of sympathy ; its earnestness without 
 dogmatism ; its high-mindedness and dignity combined with humility 
 and care ; its avoidance of pedantry and all vanity and sham ; its 
 freedom from animus, party-feeling and all marks of a polemical and 
 self-assertive disposition ; its frankness, openness, and devotion to 
 truth ; all these qualities, for which the Essay is pre-eminently noted, are 
 but the clear expression of the author's mind and temper.
 
 IV. 
 
 George Berkeley. 
 
 To many minds George Berkeley is the most interesting figure in our 
 native philosophy. Of this great man it would be difficult to say 
 whether he is to be admired more for the untarnished beauty of his 
 character, the subtlety of his speculation, or the charm of his literary 
 style. All who knew him testified to the fascination of his personality ; 
 critics are equally unanimous and enthusiastic in their judgment that 
 he is one of the classical writers of English prose. Berkeley's gifts 
 were so many that, had they been divided, they would have made 
 several great men. In him they are blended into a harmonious 
 personality such as is the possession of very few. His literary talent 
 causes him to stand out as no mean rival of our greatest prose authors ; 
 in imagination he is a poet, in brilliance of speculation he is unsur- 
 passed. His enthusiasm made him an intellectual and moral force. 
 When still a young man he published an account of one of the greatest 
 psychological discoveries that has ever been made, and conceived that 
 Idealistic philosophy which has done much to make dogmatic mate- 
 rialism an impossible creed for many minds, 1 while in later life he 
 wrote the best modern representative of the Platonic dialogue. 
 
 Berkeley's position as a master of literary art needs no vindication ; 
 but it may be constantly referred to, seeing that, from the seemingly 
 paradoxical nature of his doctrines, he is little known and little read. 
 Himself loved by all, his works have been misunderstood by most, 
 misinterpreted by many, read by few. Thus, although he is the philo- 
 sophical classic in our mother tongue, not one of his writings became 
 a household possession as did Locke's Essay. This is to a large extent 
 due to the fact that Berkeley was not of the age in which he lived. We 
 find him a man of enthusiasms amidst the frigid atmosphere of the 
 early Eighteenth Century, an extreme Idealist amidst a frankly 
 
 1 E.g. : Prof. Huxley writes thus of Berkeley's argument : " I conceive that 
 " this reasoning is irrefragable, and therefore, if I were obliged to choose between 
 " absolute materialism and absolute idealism, I should feel compelled to accept the 
 " latter alternative." Collected Essays, Vol. VI., p. 279.
 
 58 George Berkeley. 
 
 materialistic generation. Nor is he typical of even English thought, 
 for, though Locke was his philosophical father, yet Berkeley is meta- 
 physical as men rarely are who are native to British soil. Perhaps no 
 one in modern times has reproduced the spirit and manner of Plato as 
 did this Irish thinker. He possessed very extraordinary powers of 
 metaphysical imagination, as we are soon made aware when we come 
 uninitiated to his philosophy ; for we find it needs considerable effort 
 of imagination to follow him in his flights of Idealism. Dr. Johnson, 
 through lack of this faculty, could never see the force or plausibility 
 of Berkeley's arguments. But though the cast of our author's thought 
 is all his own, his style has many features characteristic of the great 
 literary epoch in which he lived. When he left Dublin and went to 
 London he was soon recognised as one of the group of illustrious 
 literary men chief among whom were Addison, Steele, Swift, and Pope. 
 All his writings display those qualities of style which were cultivated to 
 the utmost by the great essayists. 
 
 We not unfrequently hear insinuations to the effect that Berkeley's 
 philosophical thinking and writing are vitiated by a religious bias ; and 
 John Stuart Mill has said, " The war against freethinkers was the 
 "leading purpose of Berkeley's career as a philosopher." Such 
 statements are apt to make unjust to Berkeley's pure, unbiassed 
 speculative interest. His system is perfectly coherent and logical in 
 itself apart altogether from any religious views he might possess. But 
 the mind that conceived a system which reduced matter to the mani- 
 festations of spirit was sure to be a deeply religious one. Eeligion, 
 however, could have nothing whatever to do with the psychological 
 analysis which gave the cue to his whole system. His first two literary 
 productions were manifestly the outcome of as pure a speculative 
 motive as could possess any man. And, given the central conceptions 
 of his philosophy as there set forth, given especially the doctrine of the 
 immateriality of matter, it was impossible for him not to write against 
 materialism. And since he found materialism at the root of the 
 atheism and scepticism of the day, it was natural that he should 
 wield his philosophical weapon against this prolific cause of irre- 
 ligion. What we may justly say, therefore, as regards the motive 
 of his writings, is, that Berkeley's fundamental conceptions are the 
 outcome of a pure philosophical aim, that the bent of mind which 
 explained the universe by a thoroughgoing spiritualistic theory could 
 not be other than a deeply religious one, and that in his middle life he
 
 George Berkeley. ol> 
 
 used the arguments framed against philosophical materialism to over- 
 throw atheism and freethinking. 
 
 In nothing do we see more clearly the harmony of Berkeley's soul 
 than in the relation of his psychology to his metaphysics, of his meta- 
 physics to his religion, and of his religion to his life. This harmony of 
 mind, heart, and life mirrors itself in his writings, and adds greatly to 
 the unity of effect. It is the characteristic of his sentiments and style. 
 Yet because of this complete unity, the beauty of our author's style 
 is much more easily admired than analysed and described. His ex- 
 cellences as a writer are blended with such perfect taste and judgment, 
 that the resulting effect does not force any all-predominating feature on 
 the attention. This may be considered the perfection of writing, as of 
 any fine art. Just as Hobbes is one of the earliest examples of uniform 
 English, so Berkeley is one of the first instances of polished writing. 
 Many authors surpass Berkeley in a few outstanding qualities, but in 
 that balance and harmonious blending of various factors which brings 
 us near perfection few are his equals. Some of the richness, imagery, 
 and dignity of Bacon, ne combines with the clearness of Hobbes and 
 the natural freedom of Locke. But he has an advantage over his 
 predecessors in that he lived in an age which produced the classical 
 style of the great Essayists. The distinguishing qualities of the best 
 prose of the period were just those with which Berkeley's style was 
 most in sympathy. Yet even here our author may be said to have 
 acquired all the virtues of classicism without developing any of its 
 vices. For the intensity of his thought and the earnestness of his 
 nature were sure safeguards against the formalism into which the 
 fashion of the time was prone to degenerate. The chief excellences of 
 our author's prose are vividness of conception, clearness of portrayal, 
 and great range and felicity of expression ; a picturesque fancy, fertile 
 imagination, with an earnestness ever and anon bursting into elo- 
 quence ; rhythm and flow of utterance, purity and elegance of diction, 
 simplicity, directness, and lightness of speech. Berkeley indeed is one 
 of the few men in whom artistic taste and reasoning capacity are 
 equally developed. There is throughout his works a delicacy of imagi- 
 nation, of feeling and of language, an artistic sense of the beautiful 
 as an element in the true, instinctively finding chaste and graceful 
 expression, that makes Berkeley's fragments not only masterpieces of 
 metaphysical subtlety but also most charming models of English prose. 
 As a writer Berkeley is classical because he is dignified and correct,
 
 60 George Berkeley. 
 
 yet perfectly natural ; earnest enough to impress, yet never blustering 
 and uncontrolled ; serious as becomes his subject, yet pleasing and 
 vivid ; polemical and vigorous, yet never bad-tempered or morose ; 
 imaginative and subtle, yet precise and luminous ; using plain language 
 but never descending to the trivial or commonplace. 
 
 Berkeley's philosophical works fall into three groups corresponding 
 to the three periods of his literary activity. The first group contains 
 those writings which set forth the speculations which engaged his 
 attention while a student at Dublin, namely, An Essay towards a New 
 Theory of Vision (1709), A Treatise on the Principles of Human 
 Knowledge (1710), and the Three Dialogues between Hylas and 
 Philonous (1713). The second period of authorship resulted in two 
 works, published after his return from his missionary visit to Bermuda : 
 Alciphron, or the Minute Philosopher. In Seven Dialogues (1732), and 
 the Vindication of the Theory of Visual Language (1733). The third 
 period, while he was Bishop of Cloyne, produced Siris : A Chain of 
 Philosophical Reflections (1744). 
 
 There is considerable change in the style as it passes through these 
 three periods, and this is especially noticeable on contrasting his first 
 severer expositions with the more mature medium of later life. The 
 characteristics of the first period of authorship are youthful ardour of 
 manner, and persistent reiteration of, and logical argumentation 
 around, his main contention. He writes as an isolated, original 
 thinker who has evolved some fundamental truths, which he considers 
 it of the utmost importance for mankind that they should be brought 
 to perceive. The writings of the second period are polemical and 
 popular in style ; while his last work is marked by imaginative, 
 mystical, poetical treatment in the form of aphorism, of more generous 
 but less logical thoughts and with much enrichment from the sources 
 of ancient philosophy. 
 
 The most important of Berkeley's writings for students of philo- 
 sophy are the first two : An Essay towards a New Theory of Vision 
 and A Treatise concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge, since 
 these are the more severe expositions of his doctrines. The Essay 
 is psychological in scope, analytical in method, and largely technical 
 in manner. Rarely has a subject of this character namely, the 
 analysis of perception been treated in so happy a way and with 
 such literary attractiveness. There is much acumen and penetration 
 in analysis, nicety and precision in the use of words, with grace of
 
 George Berkeley. (Jl 
 
 language and picturesqueness of detail. The style is logical, coherent, 
 and clear. The very poverty of his technical terms drives him to 
 simple description and vivid portrayal of mental facts. The following 
 passage will indicate the easy and felicitous manner in which he un- 
 ravels the tangle of the elements of perception : 
 
 " From what we have shewn, it is a manifest consequence 
 " that the ideas of Space, Outness, and things placed at a dis- 
 " tance are not strictly speaking, the object of sight ; they are 
 " not otherwise perceived hy the eye than by the ear. Sitting in 
 " my study I hear a coach drive along the street ; I look through 
 " the casement and see it ; I walk out and enter it. Thus, common 
 " speech would incline one to think I heard, saw and touched the 
 " same thing, to wit, the coach. It is nevertheless certain the 
 " ideas intromitted by each sense are widely different, and dis- 
 " tinct from each other; but having been observed constantly to 
 " go together, they are spoken of as one and the same thing. By 
 " the variation of the noise, I perceive the different distances of 
 " the coach, and know that it approaches before I look out. Thus 
 " by the ear I perceive distance just after the same manner as I 
 " do by the eye." * 
 
 Apt and pleasing illustrations are part and parcel of Berkeley's 
 writings : 
 
 " The mind makes use of the greater or lesser confusedness of 
 " the appearance, thereby to determine the apparent place of an 
 " object. Nor doth it avail to say there is not any necessary 
 " connection between confused vision and distance great or small. 
 " For I ask any man what necessary connection he sees between 
 " the redness of a blush and shame ? And yet no sooner shall he 
 " behold that colour to arise in the face of another but it brings 
 " into his mind the idea of that passion which hath been observed 
 " to accompany it." 2 
 
 The Essay, however, is somewhat rambling and dislocated in treat- 
 ment. It is restricted in scope, and the fundamental principles which 
 naturally issue from Berkeley's psychological analysis are not pro- 
 pounded. Considered by itself, it lacks constructive grasp, and is 
 engaged with details the import of which for the ultimate philosophy 
 is not shewn. It has an independent value of its own, but is more 
 properly to be looked upon as the first instalment towards the system 
 
 i Essay, Sec. 46. 2 Ibid., Sees. 22, 23.
 
 62 George Berkeley. 
 
 developed in his next work. It is a tentative effort a preliminary 
 canter, so to speak in which the author tries his powers. 
 
 In the Principles, we have Berkeley's central conception fully 
 developed and enthusiastically applied to the chief questions of know- 
 ledge. There is a more adequate constructive framework and better 
 proportion of parts, though, compared with such a work as Locke's 
 Essay, it is a feeble attempt at system. It is really an unfinished 
 work, Part II. never appearing, the manuscript having been lost. 
 But while there is a marked absence of artificial divisions and arrange- 
 ment, for organic unity of treatment, essential coherence of thought, 
 and harmony in sentiment it is a model. From all possible points of 
 view, and with all available changes of expression and turns of 
 argument, the author emphasises and reiterates his great belief ; 
 meeting all conceivable objections, anticipating all plausible ridicule, 
 examining all possible consequences, and removing all likely obstacles 
 to its acceptance ; arguing, coaxing, and manoeuvring with all his 
 Irish wit and his fascinating manner until the result is almost 
 irresistible. The style is the perfection of felicity and grace. When 
 we commence to read the Introduction, we are at once charmed with 
 the rhythm and flow of language and the naturalness of manner. 
 Berkeley is as much at home in prose writing as a water-fowl in its 
 native element. The following passage will serve to illustrate his 
 simple, yet deft manner of expounding subtle thought and weaving 
 close argument : 
 
 " I arn content to put the whole upon this issue : If you can 
 " conceive it possible for one extended moveable substance, or, in 
 " general, for any one idea, or anything like an idea, to exist 
 " otherwise than in a mind perceiving it, I shall readily give up 
 " the cause. 
 
 " But say you, surely there is nothing easier than for me to 
 " imagine trees, for instance, in a park, or books existing in a 
 " closet, and nobody to perceive them. I answer you may so, 
 " there is no difficulty in it ; but what is all this, I beseech you, 
 " more than framing in your mind certain ideas which you call 
 " books and trees, and at the same time omitting to frame the 
 " idea of anyone that may perceive them? But do not you your- 
 " self perceive or think of them all the while ? This therefore is 
 " nothing to the purpose." 1 
 
 1 Principles, Sees. 22, 23.
 
 George Berkeley. 63 
 
 There are passages also of great dignity and richness, some of 
 them reminding us forcibly of Bacon, e.g., Principles. 109. Occasionally 
 there is scope for eloquence, and Berkeley never fails to rise to such 
 an opportunity as occurs in the following wonderful passage : 
 
 " Some truths there are so near and obvious to the mind that 
 " a man need only open his eyes to see them. Such I take this 
 " important one to be, viz., that all the choir of heaven and 
 " furniture of earth, in a word all those bodies which compose 
 " the mighty frame of the world, have not any subsistence 
 " without a mind that their beiny is to be perceived or knoion ; 
 " that consequently so long as they are not actually perceived by 
 " me, or do not exist in my mind or that of any other created 
 " spirit, they must either have no existence at all, or else subsist 
 " in the mind of some Eternal Spirit it being perfectly un- 
 " intelligible, and involving all the absurdity of abstraction, to 
 " attribute to any single part of them an existence independent 
 " of a spirit." x 
 
 Passing over, for a moment, Hylas and Philonous, in order that we 
 may consider all Berkeley's writings in dialogue together, we come to 
 The Theory of Vision or Visual Language Vindicated and Explained , 
 written after his return from Bermuda. It was published twenty-four 
 years after the Essay, and is a reply to an anonymous letter which 
 appeared in the Press, attacking his doctrine of Vision in eight 
 observations. Berkeley's Vindication is thus necessarily polemical. In 
 the first part of the tract, the objections are taken up one by one and 
 refuted ; in the second half, the doctrine is reconstructed synthetically 
 as contrasted with the analytical procedure of the original Essay. The 
 arguments are strong and forceful. The effect of polemic on his style 
 is to make it firmer and more vigorous. But Berkeley is ever polished 
 and polite, and his manner in polemic will be sufficiently indicated by 
 the following extract : 
 
 " For my own part, if I were ever so willing, it is not on this 
 " occasion in my power to indulge myself in the honest satis- 
 " faction it would be frankly to give up a known error ; a thing so 
 " much more right and reputable to denounce than to defend." 2 
 Berkeley's Dialogues are something quite unique in modern philo- 
 sophical literature. Others have written in dialogue, but none since 
 Plato has embodied such cunning thought and speculative acumen in 
 i Ibid., Sec. 6. a Vindication, Sec. 32.
 
 64 George Berkeley. 
 
 such excellent literary form, as Berkeley in his imagined conversations. 
 He is the Plato of English, and indeed of modern philosophical litera- 
 ture. He is Platonic not only in conception and in tone, but also in 
 style and treatment. By his Hylas and Philonous and Alciphron he 
 may claim to be the modern master of the Platonic dialogue. Just as 
 Plato used this form as the most suitable means of inculcating his 
 doctrines and as the most powerful weapon against the scepticism of 
 his day, so Berkeley adopted it, in his first dialogue, to explain his 
 position, and, in his second, to carry on a polemic against the mate- 
 rialists, sceptics, and freethinkers of the Eighteenth Century. Though 
 in no kind of prose is it more easy to write badly than in dialogue, 
 Berkeley's written conversations are his most exquisite literary produc- 
 tions. In this form of writing he manifests considerable dramatic 
 power, as also great variety and richness of thought, picturesque fancy 
 and vivid expression, so that the elegance and fascination of these 
 pieces can hardly be surpassed. 
 
 It was to free his doctrines from misunderstanding that Berkeley, 
 in the person of Philonous, argued with an imaginary objector, Hylas. 
 By the questions and replies of these three dialogues the author intro- 
 duces his notions " into the mind in the most easy and familiar 
 " manner." The work is a marvel of subtlety of thought and dexterity 
 of argument, combined with general interest of treatment and great 
 literary power. Having had the experience of the tentative effort of 
 the Essay and having broached his central conceptions in the Principles 
 he now has the advantage of seeing his doctrines in all their bearings, 
 and in these dialogues, while the conversation moves quite naturally, 
 there is better underlying system. Keen interest is maintained as 
 Philonous is driven from first one position, then another, and is en- 
 tangled in a complete web of argument. There is great clearness and 
 perspicuity of language, and the style throughout is masculine and 
 vigorous. Though the exposition is a popular one, all the leading 
 thoughts get adequate explanation, and, having in mind both literary 
 excellence and clear elucidation of his views, this dialogue is the best 
 of Berkeley's works. Professor Fraser, who so fully appreciates 
 Berkeley, says, " This work is the gem of British metaphysical 
 "literature"; and further, "The clearness of thought and language, 
 " the occasional colouring of fancy, and the glow of practical human 
 " sympathy and earnestness that pervade the subtle reasonings by 
 " which the fallacies of metaphysics are inexorably pursued through
 
 George Berkeley. 65 
 
 " these discussions, place the following Dialogue* almost alone in the 
 " modern metaphysical library." 
 
 The annexed extract from the beginning of the Third Dialogue will 
 shew the vigour and transparency of these artistic productions : 
 
 " PHIL. What ! say you we can know nothing, Hijlas ? 
 
 " HYL. There is not that single thing in the world whereof we 
 " can know the real nature, or what it really is in itself. 
 
 " PHIL. Will you tell me I do not really know what fire or 
 ' ' water is ? 
 
 " HYL. You may indeed know that fire appears hot, and water 
 " fluid ; but this is no more than knowing what sensations are 
 " produced in your own mind, upon the application of fire and 
 " water to your organs of sense. Their internal constitution, their 
 " true and real nature, you are utterly in the dark as to that. . . . 
 
 " PHIL. But surely, Hylas, I can distinguish gold, for example, 
 " from iron : and how could this be, if I knew not what either 
 " truly was? 
 
 " HYL. Believe me, Philonous, you can only distinguish 
 " between your own ideas. 
 
 " PHIL. It seems, then, we are altogether put off with the 
 " appearances of things, and those false ones too. The very meat 
 " I eat, and the cloth I wear have nothing in them like what I see 
 " and feel. 
 
 " HYL. Even so. 
 
 " PHIL. But is it not strange the whole world should be thus 
 " imposed on, and so foolish as to believe their senses? And yet 
 " I know not how it is, but men eat, and drink, and sleep, and 
 " perform all the offices of life, as comfortably and conveniently as 
 " if they really knew the things they are conversant about. 
 
 " HYL. They do so : but you know ordinary practice does not 
 " require a nicety of speculative knowledge. Hence the vulgar 
 " retain their mistakes, and for all that make a shift to bustle 
 " through the affairs of life. But philosophers know better things. 
 
 " PHIL. You mean, they know that they know nothing. 
 
 " HYL. That is the very top and perfection of human know- 
 " ledge." * 
 
 There is a very fine passage in this same dialogue shewing Berkeley's 
 poetical conception and choice language. We quote part of it : 
 
 i Hylas and Philonous. Dialogue three. Works ed. by Fraser, Vol. I., pp. 322, 3. 
 E
 
 66 George Berkeley. 
 
 " PHIL. Eaise now your thoughts from this ball of earth to all 
 " those glorious luminaries that adorn the high arch of heaven. 
 " The motion and situation of the planets, are they not admirable 
 " for use and order ? Were those (miscalled erratic) globes ever 
 " known to stray in their repeated journeys through the pathless 
 " void ? Do they not measure areas round the sun ever proper - 
 " tioned to the times ? So fixed, so immutable are the laws by 
 " which the unseen Author of nature actuates the universe. How 
 " vivid and radiant is the lustre of the fixed stars ! How 
 
 P 
 
 " magnificent and rich that negligent profusion with which they 
 " appear to be scattered throughout the whole azure vault ! Yet, 
 " if you take the telescope, it brings into your sight a new host of 
 " stars that escape the naked eye. Here they seem contiguous 
 " and minute, but to a nearer view immense orbs of light at 
 " various distances, far sunk in the abyss of space. Now you 
 " must call imagination to your aid. The feeble, narrow sense 
 " cannot descry innumerable worlds revolving round the central 
 " fires ; and in those worlds the energy of an all-perfect Mind 
 " displayed in endless forms. But neither sense nor imagination 
 " are big enough to comprehend the boundless extent, with all its 
 " glittering furniture. Though the labouring mind exert and strain 
 " each power to its utmost reach, there still stands out ungrasped 
 " a surplusage immeasurable. Yet all the vast bodies that compose 
 " this mighty frame, how distant and remote soever, are by some 
 " secret mechanism, some Divine art and force, linked in mutual 
 " dependence and intercourse with each other, even with this 
 " earth, which was almost slipt from my thoughts and lost in the 
 " crowd of worlds." 1 
 
 The second book of dialogues, Alciphron, or the Minute Philosopher, 
 is the largest of Berkeley's works and of the most general interest and 
 popularity. It is, however, far from being so strictly philosophical as 
 his previous writings. It is mainly a theological and religious polemic 
 with a philosophical groundwork. There are five persons in all, but 
 only four enter into the conversation. The argument is freer and more 
 desultory than in Hylas. The characters are more developed for dra- 
 matic purposes. It is richer in allusions to ancient thought, and there 
 is more labour after artistic and rhetorical effect. Here and there occur 
 sprightly passages and sallies of wit and touches of irony that are 
 
 1 Ibid., Dialogue two, Vol. I., pp. 302, 3.
 
 George Berkeley. 67 
 
 perfectly Platonic. Professor Fraser says of these seven dialogues that 
 they are " better fitted than any in our language to enable the English 
 " reader to realise the charm of Cicero and Plato." The following 
 passages illustrate their picturesque setting and dramatic power : 
 
 " This conversation lasted until a servant came to tell us the 
 " tea was ready : upon which we walked in, and found Lysicles at 
 " the tea-table. As soon as we sat down, I am glad, said 
 " Alciphron, that I have here found my second, a fresh man to 
 " maintain our common cause, which, I doubt, Lysicles will 
 " think hath suffered by his absence. 
 
 " LYS. Why so? 
 
 " ALC. I have been drawn into some concessions you will 
 " not like. 
 
 " LYS. Let me know what they are. 
 
 " ALC. Why, that there is such a thing as a God, and that His 
 " existence is very certain. 
 
 " LYS. Bless me ! How came you to entertain so wild a 
 " notion? 
 
 " ALC. You know we profess to follow reason wherever it leads. 
 " And in short I have been reasoned into it. 
 
 " LYS. Reasoned ! You should say, amused with words, be- 
 " wildered with sophistry." 1 
 
 " Early the next morning, as I looked out of my window, I saw 
 " Alciphron walking in the garden with all the signs of a man in 
 " deep thought. Upon which I went down to him. 
 
 "Alciphron, said I, this early and profound meditation puts 
 " me in no small fright. How so ? Because I should be sorry to 
 " be convinced there was no God. The thought of anarchy in 
 " nature is to me more shocking than in civil life : inasmuch as 
 " natural concerns are more important than civil, and the basis of 
 " all others. 
 
 " I grant, replied Alciphron, that some inconvenience may 
 " possibly follow from disproving a God : but as to what you say 
 " of fright and shocking, all this is nothing but mere prejudice. 
 ' Men frame an idea or chimera in their own minds, and then fall 
 " down and worship it. Notions govern mankind : but of all 
 " notions that of God's governing the world hath taken deepest 
 " root and spread the farthest : it is therefore in philosophy an 
 
 1 Alciphron. Dialogue four, Sacs. 15, 16.
 
 68 George Berkeley. 
 
 " heroical achievement to dispossess this imaginary monarch of 
 " his government. 
 
 " My part, said I, shall be to stand by, as I have hitherto done, 
 " and take notes of all that passeth during this memorable event ; 
 " while a minute philosopher, not six feet high, attempts to de- 
 " throne the monarch of the universe." 1 
 
 The following passage from the same dialogue has great beauty of 
 diction and rhythm : 
 
 " ALCIPHRON. Perhaps I may not expect it, but I will tell you 
 " what sort of proof I would have : and that is, in short such 
 " proof as every man of sense requires of a matter of fact, or the 
 " existence of any other particular thing. For instance, should a 
 " man ask why I believe there is a king of Great Britain ? I might 
 " answer Because I have seen him. Or a king of Spain? Because 
 " I had seen those who saw him. But as for this King of kings, 
 " I neither saw him myself, or anyone else that ever did see him. 
 " Surely if there be such a thing as God, it is very strange that He 
 " should leave Himself without a witness ; that men should still 
 "dispute his being; and that there should be no one evident, 
 " sensible, plain proof of it, without recourse to philosophy or 
 " metaphysics." 2 
 The following is a case of genuine Platonic irony : 
 
 " ALCIPHRON. To speak my mind freely, this dissertation grows 
 " tedious, and runs into points too dry and minute for a gentle- 
 " man's attention." 
 
 In the Siris, Berkeley abandons formal exposition of his own 
 peculiar views, and strings together much philosophical learning and 
 the meditations of his later life, ingeniously calling them up in an 
 examination of the medicinal properties of "tar-water." The parts of 
 the book which are of philosophical interest are full of references to 
 ancient systems, especially the Platonic, with which Berkeley had 
 ever-increasing sympathy. It is thus of the nature of a mosaic-work, 
 very cunningly fitted together, and abounding with many beautiful 
 aphorisms and gems of thought ; but with little of the logic, consist- 
 ency, and precision of his youthful writing. The style is at times very 
 similar to that of Bacon's Novum Organum ; it is eloquent, learned, 
 and polished, but without the naive simplicity or vigour of utterance 
 which characterises Berkeley's early productions. As he became more 
 
 1 Alciphron. Dialogue four, Sec. 1. 2 Ibid., Sec. 3, Dialogue four.
 
 George Berkeley. 69 
 
 mystical in thought, his style mellowed correspondingly, and became 
 more ethereal : 
 
 " There is an instinct or tendency of the mind upwards, which 
 " sheweth a natural endeavour to recover and raise ourselves from 
 " our present sensual and low condition, into a state of light, 
 " order, and purity." 1 
 He speaks thus poetically of " Phenomena " : 
 
 " The mind takes her first flight and spring, as it were, by 
 " resting her foot on these objects." 2 
 
 The following are examples of the aphorisms of which Sins is 
 largely composed : 
 
 " As understanding perceiveth not, that is, doth not hear, or 
 " see, or feel, so sense knoweth not : and although the mind may 
 " use both sense and fancy, as means whereby to arrive at know- 
 " ledge, yet sense or soul, so far forth as sensitive, knoweth 
 " nothing." 1 
 
 " Intellect enlightens, Love connects, and the Sovereign Good 
 " attracts all things." 3 
 
 We will conclude our series of extracts with a typical passage from 
 the Siris : 
 
 " Human souls in this low situation, bordering on mere animal 
 " life, bear the weight and see through the dusk of a gross 
 " atmosphere, gathered from wrong judgments daily passed, false 
 " opinions daily learned, and early habits of an older date than 
 " either judgment or opinion. Through such a medium the 
 " sharpest eye cannot see clearly. And if by some extraordinary 
 " effort the mind should surmount this dusky region, and snatch 
 " a glimpse of pure light, she is soon drawn backwards, and 
 " depressed by the heaviness of the animal nature to which she is 
 " chained. And if again she chanceth, amidst the agitations of 
 " wild fancies and strong affections, to spring upwards, a second 
 " relapse speedily succeeds into this region of darkness and 
 "dreams." 4 . . . "The eye by long use comes to see even 
 " in the darkest cavern : and there is no subject so obscure but 
 " we may discern some glimpse of truth by long poring on it. 
 " Truth is the cry of all, but the game of a few. Certainly, where 
 " it is the chief passion, it doth not give way to vulgar cares and 
 " views; nor is it content with a little ardour in the early time of 
 
 i Siris, Sec. 305. 2 Ibid., Sec. 292. 3 Ibid., Sec. 259. * Ibid., Sees. 340, 1.
 
 70 George Berkeley. 
 
 " life ; active, perhaps, to pursue, but not so fit to weigh and 
 " revise. He that would make a real progress in knowledge must 
 " dedicate his age as well as youth, the later growth as well as first 
 " fruits, at the altar of Truth." * 
 
 One of the most admirable qualities of Berkeley's prose is the extent 
 and richness of the vocabulary. As we traverse the smooth periods, we 
 are allured by varied and picturesque words and kept on the alert by 
 the dexterity and happiness of phrase. But with all his powers of 
 expression and great gifts of language, Berkeley is often vague and 
 loose in places where he ought to be strict, owing to the fact that he 
 has not an adequate fixed nomenclature. This defect was much less 
 disastrous in Berkeley's case than in Locke's, for, excepting his 
 psychological analysis of perception, his doctrines could dispense with 
 an elaborate equipment of terms better than most philosophies. As a 
 Nominalist, Berkeley denied the real existence of abstract ideas. The 
 effect of this on his exposition was to keep the thought, for the most 
 part, in the region of the concrete. Consequently, the exposition 
 takes on a descriptive manner as opposed to the style which is little 
 more than a manipulation of abstract terms. Our author's fondness 
 for the concrete, and his vivid description of psychological and meta- 
 physical truths, make his writings suggestive and interesting as 
 contrasted with the arid waste of abstractions and tiresome tangle of 
 argument which form so large a part of many philosophies. Moreover, 
 Berkeley was instinctively poetical, and the concrete with him usually 
 means the picturesque. His genius as a writer lies in the direction in 
 which Plato excelled, in impregnating simple language with subtle 
 metaphysical import. 
 
 Berkeley has no very elaborate or complicated arguments to con- 
 struct, and his thought moves unhalting in a single line, straight for 
 its goal. We are led as quickly and as immediately as possible from 
 sense-experience to the ultimate nature of existence. Perhaps no 
 thinker has taken so short a cut to his main contention, or returned 
 to it so persistently. And when his central conception is once vividly 
 realized, it leaves an impression that is indelible. Berkeley is no 
 system-builder ; his treatment is somewhat slight. His works were 
 not wrought out as a laboriously constructed edifice, but were the 
 result of some most brilliant strokes of genius. But though his 
 doctrines did not stand in need of an elaborate expository system, yet 
 
 Sec. 368.
 
 George Berkeley. 71 
 
 they were most admirable subjects for treatment in what are perhaps 
 best called philosophical fragments. Thus, while saying all he has to 
 say in a manner most natural and effective, he comes nearer, in 
 subject-matter and treatment, to the ideal literary topic than most who 
 handle abstruse subjects. 
 
 But though slight in system and simple in manner, it is remarkable 
 how quickly Berkeley penetrates to the farthest recesses of metaphysics. 
 He is no trifler, no mere ingenious man with a fad ; nor is he a vain 
 visionary. It is his grasp of ultimate issues that makes him clear and 
 earnest. What lack there is of the imposingness and strength of an 
 elaborate structure, he makes up for by the impressiveness of intensity 
 and zeal. His speculative, humanist, and religious interest centred 
 on his one great doctrine, and produced an enthusiasm and glow that, 
 allied with his powers of artistic imagination and expression, could not 
 but result in noble literature. For Berkeley not only maintained the 
 greatest earnestness of manner, he was also gifted with more poetic 
 feeling, fine sentiment, and artistic taste than any of our native 
 philosophers. Hume and Berkeley alone exhibit the ease and grace of 
 the French metaphysicians. Berkeley possessed a vividness of con- 
 ception and a liveliness of imagination that made his views of the 
 world almost as realistic to him as the ordinary view is to most people. 
 This vivid Idealism gave, especially to his later works, great scope for 
 delicate, imaginative writing. The doctrines of the " divine visual 
 language," the "immateriality of matter," " sense symbolism," " esse 
 est percipl," etc., could only be expounded in a style very different 
 from that suited to the mechanical theories of Hobbes or the common- 
 sense views of Locke. 
 
 It was Berkeley's theme that did more than anything else to make 
 him a great writer. He conceived a philosophy into the advocacy 
 of which he could throw his entire earnest nature. To find a more 
 whole-hearted, ardent soul were impossible ; and throughout life 
 he had a single theme, one that never lost, for him, its truth or 
 fascination. Every question he brings to the touchstone of his great 
 conception. That remains worthy of his subtle intellect and persistent 
 advocacy. Of that he never wearies ; in it he never loses faith ; its 
 truth is ever coming to his mind in a fresh vision. It is the inspiration 
 of this, his all-absorbing principle, that makes him one of the greatest 
 advocates to whom the world has ever listened. His highest aim in 
 life was to make men realize the truth, self-evident to him, that real
 
 72 George Berkeley. 
 
 activity cannot attach to dead matter, and that things are but the sense- 
 symbols of spirit. That men take the symbols for the substance, and 
 turn what are merely states of consciousness into an unthinking, inde- 
 pendent something, matter, this was the delusion Berkeley conceived 
 to have taken possession of men's minds, and from this he strenuously 
 endeavoured to free them by all his ingenuity of thought and skill of ex- 
 position. It matters not (since we are considering the question of style 
 only) whether we think Berkeley's theory entirely true, partially true, or 
 utterly false ; but it is much to the point, that to its originator it was the 
 verity of verities, and that, animated by it, he produced literature of the 
 highest type. Berkeley attained a mastery of the noblest prose, largely 
 because he was so entirely in the hands of a great theme. We venture 
 to think that no English philosopher has had a theory of the universe 
 upon which he could so entirely concentrate his whole being, and to 
 the propagation of which he could bring faculties so varied as those of 
 Berkeley ; a philosophy whose very simplicity is its beauty, and yet 
 which utilized the combined powers of subtle analysis, poetic fancy, 
 lofty sentiment, and fervid advocacy. How different a theme, in respect 
 of capacity, from those restricted ones of Locke and Mill ! How 
 inspiring and ennobling as compared with the Materialism of Hobbes, 
 the Scepticism of Hume, or the Agnosticism of Spencer ! We do not 
 wish it to be supposed that we pit the beauty of art, or the grandeur of 
 eloquence, against the truth of logic or the strength of reason. But 
 the history of literature shews that the men who have attained the 
 highest art have been those with the noblest themes. Many theories 
 of the universe and of the nature of man have taken away everything 
 of the deepest and most sublime import, and have desecrated the 
 ideals, the beauty, and the poetry of the world. They may be true, but 
 it is surprising if beauty and truth are so utterly incongruous, and if 
 that which most deserves acceptance by the minds of men should, by a 
 strange irony of fate, be denied the arts which have ever proved most 
 able to perpetuate ideas. If the fittest in art is alone to survive, then 
 we had better betake ourselves, not to theories that of necessity 
 restrict themselves to the quibbles of argument, the snarls of cynicism 
 and the negations of doubt, but to such as create a literature that 
 charms by beauty, ennobles by ideals, and persuades by eloquence. 
 When men can find in materialism or uncertainty themes as inspiring 
 as Berkeley's Idealism, then, and not till then, may they be found to 
 write as he.
 
 V. 
 
 David Hume. 
 
 DAVID HUME has come down to us, not only as the metaphysician of 
 the Eighteenth Century who brought about a revolution in speculative 
 thought, but also as the brilliant historian and man of letters. It has 
 been truly acknowledged that literary ambition was the mainspring of 
 his life. He, of all our native philosophers, aimed most consciously 
 and deliberately at literary renown, and we naturally expect the 
 writings of such a man to afford an excellent study in style. He is 
 the type of an abstract thinker and a polished writer combined ; for he 
 is one of the few greatest thinkers at whom the literary historian and 
 critic does not shrug his shoulders and pass by on the other side. 
 This enviable reputation, as literature, which Hume's philosophical 
 works have attained, may be due, to some extent, to the reflected glory 
 they have caught from their author's brilliance as a historian and 
 essayist. By what other means they have acquired the praise that 
 has been bestowed upon them we shall be able to consider. 
 
 Hume's first, and juvenile work, A Treatise of Human Nature, now 
 regarded as one of the world's philosophical possessions, met with by 
 no means such a reception as satisfied its author's thirst for fame. 
 He expected that the principles of the Treatise would turn the 
 world upside down, and his mortification was great when he found its 
 advent did not even " excite a murmur among the zealots." It was to 
 remedy the defects of this work, which were indicated by its lack of 
 popularity, and which Hume considered to lie more in the " manner" 
 than in the " matter," that he adopted what may be regarded as his 
 second philosophical style in re casting his doctrines into the form 
 in which we find them in the Enquiry concerning Human Under- 
 standing and the Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals. 
 
 Hume's literary merit in the sphere of philosophy is invariably
 
 74 David Hume. 
 
 judged by the undoubted excellence of the Enquiries. The estimate 
 that he is " the master of philosophic English," and that he is 
 " unsurpassed in mastery of philosophic style," is due entirely to the 
 literary form of the Enquiries, and especially of the Enquiry concerning 
 the Principles of Morals. Of the latter work Hume said, " In my own 
 " opinion (who ought not to judge on that subject), it is, of all my 
 41 writings, historical, philosophical, or literary, incomparably the best." 
 Hume's second style, as shewn in the Enquiries, is undoubtedly 
 of greatly superior literary value to that of the Three Books of the 
 Treatise. Whether he could have re-written the whole of the Treatise 
 in his later style without impairing the philosophy, we cannot say, 
 though it is very questionable. The point we have to notice is, that 
 though, in comparison with the Treatise, the literary qualities of the 
 Enquiry have been vastly improved, its philosophical value has simul- 
 taneously deteriorated to an even greater degree, so much so, that most 
 authorities have come to the conclusion that it would be an injury to 
 philosophy, as well as an injustice to Hume himself, to regard the wish 
 of his old age, which Mr. Grose characterises as " the posthumous 
 " utterance of a splenetic invalid," that the Enquiries " may alone be 
 " regarded as containing his philosophical sentiments and principles." 
 
 It is unfortunate for our estimate of Hume's philosophical style 
 that the Enquiry is not his masterpiece, that it far from adequately 
 sets forth his philosophical views, that his position as a thinker among 
 the world's thinkers could not be maintained on its merits, and, lastly, 
 that its superiority as literature was attained by very questionable 
 means. We are thus in a difficulty with regard to Hume's styles. If 
 we take the Enquiries as our criterion, then his prose is not here pre- 
 eminently his philosophical prose : if on the other hand we base our 
 judgment on the Treatise, which is his great philosophical work, his 
 prose is of a different and of a much inferior quality. Philosophers, 
 looking at his Treatise, say that Hume is one of the greatest thinkers : 
 critics, with an eye to his Enquiry concerning Morals, declare that he 
 is the most admirable English philosophical writer. When Hume 
 raises his literary standard, he at the same time lowers his philo- 
 sophical standard. We can only get a correct estimate of his literary 
 worth, therefore, by keeping in mind the relation, philosophical and 
 literary, between the Treatise and the Enquiry. 
 
 The Treatise is difficult and tiresome, whereas the Enquiry, by 
 which Hume wished his earlier work to be entirely superseded, is a
 
 David Hume. 75 
 
 comparatively easy and pleasant book. IIo\v was this change in general 
 litei'ary interest and worth achieved ? Certain it is that Hume added 
 nothing of importance to his philosophical position as propounded in 
 the Treatise. Its lack of success in the world was one of the chief 
 causes of his abandoning speculation and turning to other more popular 
 and productive spheres. The Enquiry, therefore, had nothing to gain 
 from new truths bearing on his system. Any important additions 
 were of another character and were made for the sake of gaining 
 popularity and effect. The same motives influenced him in excluding 
 from his later book philosophical questions of the most vital importance 
 to his doctrines. Many radical changes, however, in the manner and 
 treatment of the Enquiries are great improvements, and indeed result 
 in quite a different philosophical style. 
 
 To shew how impossible it is to take our estimate of Hume's style 
 from the Enquiry alone, as also to indicate by what means he increased 
 its literary worth, we will notice firstly its additions, secondly its 
 omissions, and thirdly its change in treatment and tone. 
 
 (1) Broadly speaking, the additions are two topics of a non-philo- 
 sophical character. Section x., "Of Miracles," and Section xi., "Of a 
 particular providence and of a future state," are quite new, and were 
 evidently introduced to give zest to a work written in the Eighteenth 
 Century, and from the desire "to excite a murmur among the zealots " 
 which had been frustrated by the cool reception of the Treatise. That 
 this is the case, and that they are not legitimate developments of his 
 philosophy, is clear from the fact that the argument against miracles is 
 quite inconsistent with Hume's fundamental denial of any necessary 
 connection in causation. The sections are exceedingly interesting and 
 lively, and contain some of his best writing ; but the motive for their 
 introduction is sufficiently manifest, and along with many other indi- 
 cations goes to support the opinion that Hume was "often both more 
 " and less than a philosopher." 
 
 (2) The omissions are also instructive from their literary aspect. 
 The whole of the 2nd Part of the 1st Book of the Treatise, on the 
 abstruse and vexed subject, " Of the ideas of space and time," is 
 omitted in the Enquiry. This wholesale exclusion of nearly one 
 quarter of the corresponding part of the Treatise is fatal to the worth 
 of the Enquiry as an exposition of Hume's doctrines. It is an illus- 
 tration of the way in which Hume was prepared to sacrifice some of 
 his most fundamental views on philosophy, and those without which
 
 76 David Hume. 
 
 his other doctrines could not be supported, simply because he had 
 failed to treat them in a manner acceptable and palatable to the 
 general reader. Part iv. of the Treatise is dealt with in very similar 
 fashion, being inadequately represented in Section xii. of the Enquiry 
 concerning Human Understanding. The important discussion of the 
 question of "abstract ideas" is in the Enquiry relegated to a short note. 
 These three facts alone are sufficient to destroy the importance of the 
 Enquiry as a philosophical classic, when compared with the Treatise. 
 Book ii. of the Treatise, which contained the somewhat dry, but all- 
 important psychological mechanism of the " passions and will," and 
 was thus organically related to the Morals, appeared with only small 
 verbal improvements as the separate and thus useless work, the 
 Dissertation on the Passions. The consideration of " Liberty and 
 " Necessity," its most important section, had already been transferred 
 to the Enquiry as a likely companion to " Miracles." In sum, the 
 psychological groundwork is cut out as dry and incompatible with 
 literary quality, difficult and harassing problems are shirked, and the 
 solid structure of the system most seriously damaged. But though the 
 general interest of the work is greatly increased, and the call upon 
 intellect and attention adapted to the ordinary reader, the perusal of 
 the Enquiry is in one important sense far more unsatisfactory than the 
 perusal of the Treatise. We feel that something of radical importance 
 has been removed, and the doctrines are left hanging in the air. Hume 
 sold his philosophical birthright for a mess of pottage. 
 
 (3) When Hume has thus introduced topics capable of freer treat- 
 ment, and avoided troublesome and hard details, he succeeds in 
 completely transforming the literary dress. The whole treatment and 
 style of the Enquiries is agreeable and graceful as compared with the 
 work of his youth. The Enquiry concerning Morals especially, presents 
 quite an inviting appearance. 
 
 One of the most marked improvements is the change of tone. The 
 pugnacious, arrogant, dogmatic air is greatly modified. He does not 
 irritate us so constantly by challenging contradiction. There is not 
 so much disregard for the sentiments and sympathies of mankind, 
 nor such cavilling, captious handling of instinctive beliefs. Further, 
 his sceptical and isolated position, though sufficiently manifest even 
 here, is not so constantly forced on the attention. His attitude is 
 more conciliatory ; paradoxes are not so strikingly stated ; incon- 
 sistencies in reason and life are not so heartlessly exposed ; his
 
 David Hit me. 
 
 77 
 
 principles are not so ruthlessly forced to unpleasant conclusions. 
 Though the Enquiry loses a great deal of the interesting personal 
 element of the Treatise, it gains by being most decidedly less egotistic. 
 The following is a comparison of extracts from corresponding passages 
 of the two books. The passages are substantially the same, but the 
 alteration from the egotistic style of the Treatise to the impersonal, 
 general statement of the Enquiry is not only an indication of increased 
 literary modesty, but is a great improvement in philosophical expres- 
 
 sion : 
 
 Treatise, Book ii., Pt. iii., 
 Sec. ii. 
 
 " I define necessity two 
 
 " ways." 
 
 " I place it either in . . . ." 
 
 " The only particular in 
 " which anyone can differ from 
 " me, is . . ." 
 
 " I may be mistaken in as- 
 " serting, that we have no idea 
 " of any other connection in the 
 " actions of body, and shall be 
 " glad to be further instructed 
 " on that head : But sure I am, 
 " I ascribe nothing . . ." 
 
 " Let no one, therefore, put 
 " an invidious construction on 
 " my words, by saying simply, 
 " that I assert . . ." 
 
 " I change therefore no- 
 " thing." 
 
 Enquiry concerning Human Un- 
 derstanding, Sec. viii., Pt. ii. 
 
 " Necessity may be defined 
 " two ways." 
 
 " It consists either in . . ." 
 
 " The ouly^ particular in 
 
 " which anyone can differ, is, 
 
 " 
 
 " We may here be mistaken 
 " in asserting that there is no 
 " idea of any other necessity or 
 " connection in the actions of 
 " body : But surely we ascribe 
 " nothing . . . ." 
 
 (Deleted.) 
 
 " We change no circum- 
 stance." 
 
 The self-assurance of the youth who is just beginning to feel his 
 own powers is most painfully manifest on every page of the Treatise, 
 and Hume lived to repent its "positive" temper. The earlier book 
 howover has a personal style, and therefore a fascination, which is not 
 retained by the later one. It shews us Hume as a solitary thinker at
 
 78 David Hume. 
 
 La Fleche working his way through the maze of problems amidst 
 which he found himself. Though not, in form, so personal as the 
 Method and Meditations of Descartes, yet the tone is very similar. We 
 feel as we follow the almost feverish pen that wrote the Treatise that 
 we are really dealing with the biography of its author's personal 
 thought. The individuality of Hume, with its idiosyncrasies, is stamped 
 on every thought and expression. This personal style is, for the most 
 part, lost in the Enquiry. Hume had in the meantime come to lookift 
 those same problems and his own peculiar solutions of them with the 
 less romantic and, at the same time, less earnest gaze of his later 
 vision. He has in the Enquiry lost the ardour of his first love for 
 Philosophy, and he transcribes his thoughts in a more impersonal and 
 u less impetuous style. 
 
 The Enquiry, on the other hand, certainly gains inasmuch as the 
 matter retained for treatment is not so unwieldy, and the crop of 
 problems not so thick as to cause confusion. The Treatise is not 
 characterised by well-proportioned, systematic exposition. It is often 
 rambling and diffuse. It lacks unity of plan and arrangement, though 
 the natural cohering power of the thought is great. The texture as a 
 whole is loose and knotty. So many threads are started, and woven in 
 after so irregular a fashion, that the design is often confused by the 
 crossing, recrossing, and twisting of the strands of thought and 
 argument. The Treatise casts about its wealth in littered confusion. 
 As exposition, the book lacks judgment. The author fights many a 
 side issue in a way that might lead us to think a central position is 
 being attacked, while often an insignificant outpost becomes the key to 
 a future situation. But the style of the Treatise, though in many 
 respects embarrassing to the reader, yet delights to such an extent in 
 variety of statement and reiteration of truth that it is, spite of its 
 disorder, very striking and effective composition. In the Enquiry, on 
 the other hand, Hume aims more at a single line of consecutive thought 
 with all the attendant advantages of facile movement. But while we 
 have got rid of confusing detail, we have also lost our foundations, and 
 the logical system of the Treatise is hopelessly mutilated. The Enquiry 
 gained greatly as exposition, we will not say by the sacrifice of, but 
 still, along with the sacrifice of, logical coherence and stability. We 
 cannot say that the Enquiry arouses that keen curiosity which the 
 Treatise is well calculated to inspire. The course the author's thought 
 takes him in the latter book is a free and easy speculative ramble. We
 
 David Hume. 79 
 
 are never quite sure where he is going next. He turns all sorts of 
 corners and brings us out in many surprising situations. The whole 
 work indeed is the very opposite of a cut and dried, formal exposition 
 of doctrines. 
 
 Turning to Hume's style in the narrower sense, we find the diction 
 of the two works is of very different value. The characteristic qualities 
 of the Treatise are directness, flexibility, and force ; those of the 
 Enquiries flowing ease, balance, and grace. The manner of the Treatise 
 is one of great freedom and vigour ; the language is not uniformly 
 precise, while at times there is a struggle for utterance and the subtle 
 thought is ill-expressed. All this is in marked contrast with the fluency 
 and elegance of the maturer style. The movement of the prose of the 
 Treatise is quick, restless, and at times, random. The sentences are 
 shoi't and broken, and have the appearance of coming ready to hand 
 with little premeditation and less afterthought. They approximate to 
 the truth, and ind cate it, rather than clearly and strictly define it. 
 The language is simple, untechnical, cvery-day English, used with a 
 freedom that approaches the colloquial, a directness that is almost 
 abrupt, and at times with a slovenly reiteration that is tedious and 
 annoying. Perhaps the most pleasing feature of the style of the Treatise 
 is the fresh, naive way in which it describes its truths. Hume has a 
 very graphic manner of portraying mental facts. He is always simple, 
 unconventional and vivid, at times quaint and curious, and very often 
 picturesque. The following quotations will illustrate this aspect of the 
 style of the Treatise : 
 
 " 'Tis evident at first sight, that the ideas of the memory are 
 " much more lively and strong than those of the imagination, 
 " and that the former faculty paints its objects in more distinct 
 " colours, than any which are employ 'd by the latter. When we 
 " remember any past event, the idea of it flows in upon the mind 
 " in a forcible manner ; whereas in the imagination the perception 
 " is faint and languid, and cannot without difficulty be preserv'd 
 " by the mind steddy and uniform for any considerable time." 1 
 
 " The mind is a kind of theatre, where several perceptions 
 " successively make their appearance ; pass, re-pass, glide away, 
 " and jningle in an infinite variety of postures and situations. 
 11 There is properly no simplicity in it at one time, nor identity in 
 " different; whatever natural propension we may have to imagine 
 
 1 Treatise, iik. i., Pt. i., Sec. iii.
 
 80 David Hume. 
 
 " that simplicity and identity. The comparison of the theatre 
 " must not mislead us. They are the successive perceptions only, 
 " that constitute the mind ; nor have we the most distant notion 
 " of the place, where these scenes are represented, or of the 
 " materials, of which it is compos'd." l 
 
 In homely unrestrained freedom of style the Treatise has marked 
 affinity with Locke's Essay, to which however it is superior in force 
 and dexterity of expression and in vivacity of manner. It is, on the 
 other hand, inferior when considered from the side of systematic 
 exposition ; one very great source of confusion being the postponement 
 of the treatment of "impressions" to that of " ideas." The genuineness 
 and modesty of Locke's style are markedly absent from Hume's 
 writing, and at times we think we catch an insincerity of tone. Our 
 author's superior vigour and piquant smartness were in some degree 
 due to French influence. The Treatise was written during his seclusion 
 in France, and Dr. Johnson said of this, Hume's first work, " In 
 " style ... so far as the structure of sentences is concerned, no 
 " doubt he was already influenced by the literature of France." 
 
 When we turn to Hume's second style, we pass from choppy, 
 disordered composition to smooth periodic writing. The Enquiry is 
 easy in treatment, lucid in statement, regular and elegant in style. 
 This, Hume's more mature manner, required the less technical and 
 less subtle topics of the Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals for 
 it to be seen at its best. There is throughout the Enquiries a very real 
 increase in precision and exactness of expression. The sentences are 
 more luminous and more carefully constructed. Much of the looseness 
 of the earlier work has disappeared. Elegance, flow, and grace are 
 attained chiefly by the balance of the sentence, and the poising of 
 groups of words. But the literary artifices are so constantly and 
 uniformly employed that they become very manifest "knacks." The 
 sentences are the work of a practised hand, and the diction reminds us 
 of Plutarch, and shews his influence. Much of the force and natural- 
 ness of the early manner is exchanged for this regularity and polish. 
 The resulting impression is that of artificial monotony. There is no 
 natural, unconventional grace, and no spontaneous elevation. Through- 
 out the beauties are restricted to the regular, austere, classic type. At 
 his best, Hume does not write with the unaffected grace of Berkeley ; 
 nor can it be said of him, as it may truly be said of Bacon, that he is 
 
 1 Ibid., Bk. i., Ft. iv., Sec. vi.
 
 David Hume. 81 
 
 inspiring and inspired. The following passage is typical of the philo- 
 sophical style of the Enquiries : 
 
 " All men, it is allowed, are equally desirous of happiness, but 
 " few are successful in the pursuit: One considerable cause is the 
 " want of strength of mind, which might enable them to resist 
 " the temptation of present ease or pleasure, and carry them 
 " forward in the search of more distant profit and enjoyment. 
 "... And however poets may employ their wit and eloquence, 
 " in celebrating present pleasure, and rejecting all distant views 
 " to fame, health, or fortune; it is obvious, that this practice is the 
 " source of all dissoluteness and disorder, repentance and misery. 
 " A man of strong and determined temper adheres tenaciously to 
 " his general resolutions, and is neither seduced by the allure- 
 " ments of pleasure, nor terrified by the menaces of pain; but 
 " keeps still in view those distant pursuits by which he, at once, 
 " ensures his happiness and his honour." 1 
 
 The Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals has gained in 
 wealth of illustration, and in references to History and past thought. 
 The examples and analogies of the Treatise are introduced for the 
 elucidation of difficult discussions, and for a figurative representation 
 of abstruse views ; in the Enquiry, Hume finds them a means of 
 enlivening and enriching his pages. The illustrations of the Treatise, 
 indeed, serve as philosophical experiments, and are a very important 
 part of the ingenious means Hume adopts " to introduce the experi- 
 " mental Method of Eeasoning into Moral Subjects." Hence they are 
 somewhat technical in character, being manufactured to prove and 
 illustrate a definite doctrine. The following contains one of these 
 ingenious illustrations constructed by our author to exemplify his theory 
 of Abstract Ideas : 
 
 " 'Tis certain that the mind wou'd never have dream'd of 
 " distinguishing a figure from the body figur'd, as being in reality 
 "neither distinguishable, nor different, nor separable; did it not 
 " observe, that even in this simplicity there might be contain'd 
 " many different resemblances and relations. Thus when a globe 
 " of white marble is presented, we receive only the impression of a 
 " white colour dispos'd in a certain form, nor are we able to 
 " separate and distinguish the colour from the form. But observing 
 " afterwards a globe of black marble and a cube of white, and 
 
 1 Enquiry concerning tlie Principles of Morals, Sec. vi., Pt. i.
 
 82 David Hume. 
 
 " comparing them with our former object, we find two separate 
 " resemblances, in what formerly seem'd, and really is, perfectly 
 
 " inseparable When we wou'd consider only the 
 
 " figure of the globe of white marble, we form in reality an idea 
 " both of the figure and colour, but tacitly carry our eye to its 
 " resemblance with the globe of black marble : And in the same 
 " manner, when we wou'd consider its colour only, we turn our 
 " view to its resemblance with the cube of white marble." 1 
 Hume's illustrations are chosen and manipulated with the greatest 
 
 judgment, and, just like those of Locke, are a very intimate part of the 
 
 exposition. The following, which occurs in both the Treatise and the 
 
 Enquiry, is a very effective argument on the question of the " freedom 
 
 " of the will " : 
 
 " A prisoner, who has neither money nor interest, discovers 
 " the impossibility of his escape, as well from the obstinacy of the 
 " gaoler, as from the walls and bars with which he is surrounded ; 
 " and in all attempts for his freedom chuses rather to work upon 
 " the stone and iron of the one, than upon the inflexible nature of 
 " the other. The same prisoner, when conducted to the scaffold, 
 " foresees his death as certainly from the constancy and fidelity of 
 " his guards as from the operation of the ax or wheel. His mind 
 " runs along a certain train of ideas : The refusal of the soldiers 
 " to consent to his escape, the action of the executioner ; the 
 " separation of the head and body ; bleeding, convulsive motions, 
 " and death. Here is a connected chain of natural causes and 
 "voluntary actions; but the mind feels no difference betwixt 
 " them in passing from one link to another." 2 
 The following is worth mentioning as an instance of very striking 
 
 illustration. It exactly represents Hume's position on the question of 
 
 " necessary connection." 
 
 "If we reason a priori, anything may appear able to produce 
 
 " anything. The falling of a pebble may, for ought we know, 
 
 " extinguish the sun ; or the wish of a man control the planets in 
 
 " their orbits." 3 
 
 The Treatise is peculiarly lacking in references to either ancient or 
 
 modern systems ; it is written in the isolated style which refuses to 
 
 1 Treatise, Bk. i., Pt. i., Sec. vii. 
 
 2 Ibid., Bk. ii., Pt. iii., Sec. i. 
 
 3 Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, Sec. xii., Part iii.
 
 Da rid II it inc. S3 
 
 draw directly on the past, or to ally itself with the feeling and sentiment 
 with which the past is linked. It is throughout the product of a 
 solitary thinker, working indeed with the thoughts of the past, hut 
 using them as the intellectual atmosphere of the world, and therefore 
 as common property. The philosophical style most opposed to this is 
 to be found in the Lectures of Sir William Hamilton, whose pages are 
 as full of references to philosophers, renowned and obscure, as the 
 Treatise is free from them. 
 
 There is in many of Hume's statements an ohscurity which defies 
 penetration, a woefully inadequate stock of philosophical terms, and an 
 inexactness and looseness in the use of those he does possess almost as 
 great as in the case of Locke. Exchanging Locke's term "idea" for 
 " perception " to denote all mental phenomena, Hume sets out with a 
 strict distinction between "ideas" and "impressions." In a note to 
 one of the early pages of the Treatise he writes, " I here make use of 
 " these terms, impression and idea, in a sense different from what is 
 " usual, and I hope this liberty will be allowed me. Perhaps I rather 
 " restore the word, idea, to its original sense, from which Mr. Locke 
 " had perverted it, in making it stand for all our perceptions." Beyond 
 this improvement by the limitation of the term " idea," Hume's philo- 
 sophical nomenclature and stock of psychological technicalities is as 
 poverty-stricken and inadequate as that of other native writers previous 
 to the time of Sir William Hamilton. 
 
 We now come to the question of Hume's relative merit as a 
 philosophical writer. Mr. Grose has so highly estimated Hume's 
 position as to make him " the one master of philosophic English." If 
 by "philosophic English," we mean a cold, passionless language 
 which is incapable of the highest and noblest qualities of literature, 
 this estimate of the style of the Enquiries is perhaps just. But if 
 " philosophic " comprehends all the properties of writing that may with 
 good effect be employed for the exposition of philosophical thought, 
 there is one writer who might be preferred to Hume as possessing far 
 superior qualities to even those exhibited in the Enquiry concerning 
 Morals. From a comparison of Hume's works with Berkeley's, without 
 any reference to the nature of the thought expressed, and merely with 
 style as the criterion, we would not hesitate to say that Berkeley is by 
 far the greater writer. 
 
 If we compare Berkeley's philosophical masterpiece with that of 
 Hume (and they were both written when their authors were at about
 
 84 David Hume. 
 
 the same early age), \ve find that it is more fascinating in manner and 
 equally effective in style, that it is far more luminous, and greatly 
 superior in elegance and elevation. If we compare the best passages of 
 Berkeley with the best of Hume there can be no doubt of the former's 
 surpassing beauty and eloquence. It might be objected perhaps that 
 Hume's subject-matter is more typically philosophical, and no doubt 
 Berkeley's writings gain something by being fragments, though it is 
 remarkable how many of Hume's positions are anticipated therein and 
 how coherent a system may be extracted from them. But apart from 
 the fact that all Berkeley's work is as philosophical in nature as Hume's 
 Enquiry concerning Morals, we fortunately have considerable psycho- 
 logical analysis in Berkeley's early works, and can thus compare his 
 powers with Hume's severest and strictest philosophical style. 
 
 Compare for instance Berkeley's discussion of " Abstract Ideas" in 
 Sees. 6-25 of the Introduction to the Principles of Human Knowledge, 
 with Hume's examination of the very same question in Sec. vii., Pt. i., 
 Bk. i., of the Treatise. After characterising Berkeley's view as " one of 
 " the greatest and most valuable discoveries that has been made of late 
 "years in the republic of letters," Hume goes on to support it from 
 exactly the same position, by essentially similar psychological analysis 
 and argument. Thus the conditions and restrictions of the subject, as 
 well as the age of the writers and the nearness of the times of writing, 
 render a comparison of styles legitimate. And we think it unquestion- 
 able that, though perhaps for ingenuity and elaborateness of argument 
 Hume is superior, and for striking exposition, felicity of illustration, 
 force and flexibility of language, he cannot well be surpassed, yet for 
 precision and lucidity of style Berkeley is superior ; while in natural 
 grace and flow of diction, in elegance of manner, and in unity of effect, 
 he shews himself pre-eminent as a literary genius. 
 
 Hume was typical of English thought in the Eighteenth Century, 
 just as Bacon was entirely characteristic of the Elizabethan Age. The 
 cold, keen, critical spirit of the time found its representative in David 
 Hume. We must not expect therefore to find in his writings the 
 fervour, the grandeur, or the imagination of a past era. Berkeley's 
 unique position in English philosophical prose is due to the fact that 
 he was not exclusively of either age, but possessed the spirit of the old, 
 with the powers of thought and expression of the new. 
 
 Hume has two disqualifications for attaining the highest literary 
 excellence as a speculative writer. The one arises from the limitations
 
 David Hume. 85 
 
 of a prosaic character, the other from his unfortunate position in the 
 historical development of thought. Hume was intellectually intense : 
 yet it was a cold, keen, critical intensity, rather than that which 
 results from fervour and enthusiasm. His character was peculiarly 
 devoid of qualities of an heroic and lofty cast. His mental constitution 
 is defective through absence of the liner sentiments, aesthetic tastes 
 and emotional feeling. These limitations were fatal to the highest 
 attainment in literature of any class, not excepting even philosophy. 
 He is vivid in conception, facile in expression, buoyant and energetic in 
 temperament; but his feelings are remarkable neither for depth, power, 
 nor loftiness. The restricted range of his tastes prevented him from 
 becoming a great literary artist ; his emotional feebleness rendered it 
 impossible for his writings ever to become powerful as a direct social 
 force ; while his lack of appreciation of, and reverence for, the ideal, 
 excluded his philosophical works from the number of the greatest 
 masterpieces of literature. 
 
 It is often declared of Hume that he is destitute of imagination. 
 If by this we mean constructive imagination the statement is just, and 
 indicates a very radical defect of our author's mind, and one which 
 greatly limited the scope of his work. With metaphysical imagination 
 of a certain reach Hume was endowed in a remarkable degree. But 
 while it was such as to enable him to free himself of the ordinary 
 conventional mode of regarding experience and to divest his mind of 
 every trace of the common-sense associations of thought, it always 
 stopped short at this negative, divesting stage, and never went on to 
 positive construction of a philosophical interpretation of the world. 
 To say that Hume was destitute of imagination would render it impos- 
 sible to explain the thorough-going, uncompromising scepticism of his 
 thought ; while on the other hand the fact that he stopped short at 
 scepticism is accounted for by his deficiency of imagination of a 
 constructive character. What imagination he did possess gave a 
 fanciful, curious tone to much of his writing and added greatly to its 
 fascination ; but there is a total absence of that constructive power 
 which can alone create great literary masterpieces. 
 
 Such qualities of character and temperament, however suited for 
 the production of a psychologist, were bound to result in defects of 
 style and treatment. Hume never warms to anything except sarcasm, 
 and the lack of the artistic faculty is only too manifest. Though he 
 has acquired an artificial dignity and elegance, it can never be said of
 
 86 David Hume. 
 
 him, as it may be said of Berkeley, that he is one of the most charming 
 of all writers of English prose. 
 
 Secondly, Hume's peculiar position in the development of thought, 
 and the destructive, sceptical tendencies of his mind, whereby he made 
 a climax in that development, would not admit of those qualities of 
 style necessary for the highest place in literature. Whatever Hume 
 himself was, and however much or little he staked on his philosophy, 
 that philosophy is in tone utterly sceptical, its aim is philosophical 
 nihilism, and its result paralysis in the realm of thought and reason. 
 We have shewn that the crude materialism of Hobbes was not a theme to 
 be handled with the greatest literary success. It is no less certain that 
 the scepticism of Hume was sufficient in itself to paralyse the finest 
 powers of prose writing. The only message that Hume has for men is 
 the contradictory one that no message is possible. His whole attitude 
 of thought is negation, his last word on every subject the " everlasting 
 no." Such a philosophy was bound to acquire peculiar properties 
 of style ; but those qualities could not be the highest of which philo- 
 sophical prose is capable. The fact of Hume's position being what it 
 is, and his literary medium being restricted to the explanation of that 
 position, excluded some of the noblest qualities from Hume's writings. 
 We are not hereby making any reflection on the thought ; we are 
 merely indicating the necessary and legitimate influence of the thought 
 on the expression. 
 
 The literary superiority of the Enquiry concerning the Principles of 
 Morals is, to some extent, due to the advance Hume there makes 
 beyond his usual sceptical position. Again, in reading the group of 
 philosophical Essays, The Stoic, The Epicurean, The Platonist, and 
 The Sceptic, in which he personates the respective types of philosophers 
 (as Milton does two of them, in the form of verse, in L' Allegro and // 
 Penseroso), we are struck by the remarkable change in style, w r hen we 
 pass from the first three Essays to the last. In The Stoic, The 
 Epicurean, and The Platonist, which constitute the most popular part 
 of all Hume's philosophical writings, he quite surpasses himself in 
 splendour of language and in fervour of utterance. This is evidently 
 the result of his throwing himself, heart and soul, into the decided 
 characters he is personating and the positive doctrines he is, for the 
 moment, upholding. It is the inspiration of the subject that effects 
 this temporary change in Hume's style. Though much too florid and 
 high-flown, it is significant that Hume acquires more power in the
 
 David Hume. 87 
 
 assumed role of an inspiring character than in the exposition of his 
 
 own doctrines. When he puts on The Sceptic in the fourth of this 
 
 group of Essays, he descends to a style suitahle to the tone of thought, 
 
 and more in keeping with his usual manner. 
 
 The mental state of the writer of the Treatise is vividly and 
 
 touchingly depicted in the following passages, which occur in the 
 
 concluding section of the First Book : 
 
 " Methinks I am like a man, who having struck on many 
 " shoals, and having narrowly escap'd ship- wreck in passing a 
 " small frith, has yet the temerity to put out to sea in the same 
 " leaky weather-beaten vessel, and even carries his ambition so 
 " far as to think of compassing the globe under these disad- 
 " vantageous circumstances. My memory of past errors and 
 " perplexities makes me diffident for the future. The wretched 
 " condition, weakness, and disorder of the faculties, I must employ 
 " in my enquiries, increase my apprehensions. And the im- 
 " possibility of amending or correcting these faculties, reduces 
 " me almost to despair, and makes me resolve to perish on the 
 " barren rock, on which I am at present, rather than venture 
 " myself upon that boundless ocean, which runs out into im- 
 " mensity. This sudden view of my danger strikes me with 
 " melancholy : . . . I am first affrighted and confounded 
 " with that forlorn solitude, in which I am plac'd in my philo- 
 " sophy, and fancy myself some strange uncouth monster, who, 
 " not being able to mingle and unite in society, has been expell'd 
 " all human commerce, and left utterly abandon 'd and discon- 
 " solate. Fain wou'd I run into the crowd for shelter and 
 " warmth ; but cannot prevail with myself to mix with such 
 " deformity. I call upon others to join me, in order to make a 
 " company apart ; but no one will hearken to me." 
 Further on he thus sums up the sceptical results of the First Book of 
 
 the Treatise : 
 
 "We have, therefore, no choice left but betwixt a false reason 
 " and none at all. For my part, I know not what ought to be done 
 " in the present case. . . . The intense view of these manifold 
 " contradictions and imperfections in human reason has so 
 " wrought upon me, and heated my brain, that I am ready to 
 " reject all belief and reasoning, and can look upon no opinion 
 " even as more probable or likely than another. . . . Most
 
 88 David Hume. 
 
 " fortunately it happens, that since reason is incapable of dis- 
 " pelling these clouds, nature herself suffices to that purpose. . . . 
 " 1 dine, I play a game of back-gammon, I converse, and am 
 " merry with my friends ; and when after three or four hours' 
 " amusement, I wou'd return to these speculations, they appear so 
 " cold, and strain'd, and ridiculous that I cannot find in my heart 
 " to enter into them any farther. ... If I must be a fool, as 
 " all those who reason or believe anything certainly are, my follies 
 " shall at least be natural and agreeable." 
 
 Hume seems to have been only too glad to relax his ardour in such 
 speculations. Most men would have found life simply intolerable on 
 such an intellectual basis ; few men could have brought themselves to 
 write philosophy in such moods. But though Hume argues with his 
 whole, keen, penetrating intellect, he never advocates with his whole 
 soul. Perhaps, indeed, Hume's definition of a soul as a " stream " or 
 "series" of impressions and ideas is a truer description of his own, 
 than of most men's. There were not in him the powerful emotional 
 forces which weld a man's being into an undivided whole. Few if any 
 have been found so ready to commit philosophical suicide ; and 
 probably no great thinker's doctrines have influenced his own life so 
 little as Hume's affected his. For he could close his Treatise and 
 forget the annihilation of reason that had been there committed, and 
 he could live the very enjoyable life of a man who had never vexed his 
 mind with speculation. Such has not been, and could not be, the way 
 with men of the noblest character. It has been well admitted that 
 Hume lived two lives, the life of a sceptical thinker, and the life of an 
 ordinary jovial Scotchman with a weakness for applause ; and the 
 remark has often been made -that the two were not by any means har- 
 monious, even if they were compatible. They did not appear incom- 
 patible to Hume, but they would have been to a greater and a more 
 genuine philosopher. 
 
 Our author's philosophical works lack those ideal and constructive 
 elements which are so essential to great literary undertakings. There 
 is the absence of some of the highest moral qualities, of the elevation 
 and greatness of tone, which philosophy is so pre-eminently calculated 
 to inspire. On the moral questions where Kant thrills us by the 
 magnificence and nobility of his conception and the surpassing dignity 
 of his periods, Hume is decidedly mediocre. We are not aware of a 
 single instance in his speculative works of true loftiness and grandeur
 
 Dae id Hume. s<J 
 
 of sentiment or expression. The doctrine of absolute, final doubt, may 
 and indeed must, be expounded in very direct and forcible terms ; but 
 it cannot use the gentler or the nobler arts. It utterly fails to inspire 
 confidence or assume the attitude of advocacy or persuasion. Its whole 
 manner is depressing, and more calculated to give rise to insincerity 
 and trifling, to melancholy and sarcasm, than to play upon the 
 imagination, wake the chords of eloquence, or echo the thunders of 
 sublimity.
 
 VI. 
 John Stuart Mill, 
 
 JOHN STUART MILL was the most popular and influential English 
 philosophical writer in the second and third quarters of the Nineteenth 
 Century. This ascendancy was due, no doubt, chiefly to the sympathy 
 of his thought with the tendencies of the times, and partly also to the 
 personality of Mill, but in no small degree to the popularity of his 
 style. To understand Mill, whether as a thinker, a man, or a writer, 
 needs very careful study. For he has been a perplexing puzzle to the 
 students who have tried to reconcile his philosophical tenets, and to 
 the biographers who have done their utmost to analyse his character 
 and do justice to his life. His literary style also presents itself as a 
 puzzle ; for there is throughout his writings a reserve of manner which 
 leads us to suspect that self-revelation is not to be looked for here to 
 the same extent as in the case of ordinary writers. Yet this restraint, 
 which is so uniform a mark of our philosopher's prose, is itself an in- 
 evitable indication of character. Style never really belies the mental 
 qualities of which it is the outcome. And when we consider how 
 difficult it was for Mill's real self to struggle into life, is it surprising 
 that he has not revealed his inmost nature in his style? It may be 
 questioned whether the real John Stuart Mill ever "did live ; such had 
 been the effect of the force employed to imprint the mould of other 
 minds upon his. When we consider his highly-strung temperament 
 and keen sensibility, the extraordinary educational processes through 
 which his father put him, the eccentric influences to which he was 
 early subjected, and the subsequent expansions of his character and 
 sentiment, is it any wonder the world cannot be said to know the real 
 John Mill ? He hardly knew himself. 
 
 Mill's preposterous early training, together with his sensitiveness to 
 outside influences, effectually prevented the growth of a very strongly 
 marked individuality of style. We do not find his prose by any means 
 so characteristic as that of previous great philosophical writers. His
 
 John Stuart Mill. 91 
 
 style is not a simple one ; nor in the strict sense is it a compound ; it 
 is a mixture. Thus, though we have chosen it as a type, it is typical 
 of a mixed style possessing many qualities which it contains rather than 
 blends. An impressible nature, an openness to the many-sidedness 
 of truth, was the striking characteristic of Mill's mental constitution. 
 The play of manifold forces upon so finely sensitive a mind greatly 
 influenced his thought, and through his thought, his style. But in 
 very different ways ; for while it destroyed the coherence of his doc- 
 trines, it saved his style. This impressionableness made his mind 
 receptive to many views which his acknowledged principles would not 
 of themselves have led him to adopt. He was instinctively aware of 
 the elements of truth in widely divergent and even opposed schools of 
 thought. Hence the practical working principle he adopts in all his 
 philosophising is to take the middle course between extremes. The 
 verdict of later thought upon Mill appears to be, that though he tried 
 hard to conciliate, he has not succeeded in harmonising. For we find 
 his philosophy a mixture of very miscellaneous ingredients. In Meta- 
 physics, Logic, and Ethics, he performs some very remarkable feats in 
 mixing elements that refuse to mingle. Because of this, there is great 
 difficulty in saying precisely to what philosophical school Mill really 
 belongs. This receptivity of mind brought him under the influence of 
 many philosophies. Comte and Wordsworth appealed to him no less 
 than Beutham. Hartley, James Mill, Berkeley, Kant, Coleridge, and 
 German Idealists, all supplied ingredients for his mixture. What Mill 
 does is little more than to glue together the bits he has selected, and 
 smear over the joining. Thinkers regret that his susceptibility to 
 the many-sidedness of truth was not supported by a sufficiently con- 
 structive power of mind. Readers who study Mill's style are grateful 
 that the author is constantly passing out of one atmosphere of thought 
 and sentiment into another. Mill's powers of language were so inferior 
 to those of the great masters who had preceded him that, unless his 
 mind had been a sensitive, and his philosophy a chequered one, he 
 would not have succeeded as a popular and interesting writer. What 
 powers of expression he did possess he cultivated to the utmost ; but 
 his natural gifts in this respect were so ordinary as to preclude the 
 possibility of his ever becoming a great master in literature. Moreover, 
 these limited powers of expression were stunted in early life by perhaps 
 the most absurd education ever forced upon the mind of a child. Mill's 
 literary productions never shewed that spontaneousness and vigour of
 
 92 John Stuart Mill. 
 
 style which he might, under more favourable circumstances, have de- 
 veloped. That his manner was not rendered hopelessly pedantic was 
 due to his responsiveness to more generous influences, and to his intense 
 practical interests. These latter, indeed, were an invaluable counter- 
 action to the deadening influence of a forced education and of much 
 speculative thought. Absorbing practical objects and great public spirit 
 are the key to Mill's life, as they were the inspiration of his work. He 
 was by nature an abstract, analytical thinker, with very limited literary 
 gifts. Nothing could save such a man from utter failure in the world 
 of letters unless the power of very practical motives for writing. Mill 
 at any rate owed it to his father that he was, from the outset of life, 
 inspired by very noble yet tangible objects to labour for. James Mill 
 was no seventh-heaven speculator ; neither was Bentham ; and there 
 could hardly be a school of philosophic thought with more definite 
 aims and greater scope for propagandism than that in which Mill may 
 be said to have been born and bred. His early surroundings and 
 youthful precocity soon had the very natural effect of leading him to 
 regard himself as a quite superior individual, destined to be of some 
 importance as a reformer of the nation's thought and a destroyer of the 
 popular prejudices. And though experience modified his youthful 
 ambitions, Mill's thought was throughout life influenced by a practical 
 interest which, even in his most abstract moods, he never quite out- 
 soars. For his practical aims were ever of a kind falling in with, or 
 rather issuing from, his speculations. And the more practical his 
 motives, the more powerful his writings. It has been said that our 
 author had no interest in the concrete for itself, and that he could 
 never therefore become a poet. This is very true. Mill is never even 
 picturesque ; but at any rate he is practical ; and though artistic ex- 
 pression did not attach to his thoughts, yet practical interests issue 
 very naturally from his doctrines ; and such practical interests, if they 
 do not inspire poetry, can at least animate prose. 
 
 The works in which we may study Mill's philosophical style are 
 the System of Logic, Utilitarianism, Examination of Sir William 
 Hamilton's Philosophy, and Auguste Comte and Positivism. We might 
 also add the philosophical portions of the Dissertations and Disciissions 
 and the three posthumous essays on Nature, The Utility of Religion, 
 and Theism. The Principles of Political Economy deals with a subject 
 which we relegate to the special sciences. The tracts On Liberty and 
 On Representative Government are chiefly of political interest, while
 
 John Stuart Mill. 93 
 
 the Autobiography is purely personal. Mill's works could not by any 
 colouring of enthusiasm be made to appear fascinating. What we may 
 say is, that they are very readable for the average mind. They will 
 certainly not live and be read, like the works of Bacon, Berkeley, and 
 Hobbes, simply in virtue of their style. But though not marked by 
 any great beauties of literary finish, or enriched by artistic execution, 
 Mill's writings were very widely read, and were deservedly popular as 
 possessing some of the more sober excellences of philosophical prose. 
 
 We have said that Mill's style presents very varied features. These 
 we shall be able to appreciate by looking at our author in three different 
 aspects ; first, as an abstract scientific expositor ; secondly, as a 
 popular persuasive advocate ; thirdly, as an able dialectician. 
 
 Mill's aim, of taking the elements of truth contained in divergent 
 theories and embodying them in his own doctrines, had a very marked 
 effect on his exposition, in that his powers of systematic and orderly 
 discourse were called forth to a far greater extent than if he had been 
 carried away by an overmastering idea or by a one-sided view of 
 things. He builds his philosophy, it does not grow. Where unity 
 does not result from inherent vitality of thought, it has to be acquired 
 by plan and system. It is in the region of what has been termed the 
 middle ground of thought that Mill, as a thinker, is most at home and 
 most successful ; and it is here that the art of exposition can be best 
 applied. The author of the System of Logic is a master of that 
 comparatively modern acquirement, the art of orderly, systematic 
 treatment of the text-book type, the absence of which is so great a 
 drawback to the productions of earlier philosophers. He shews great 
 skill in planning and arranging his subject-matter, and rare power in 
 enunciating principles, and in knitting together a body of doctrines. 
 His formulation of the branch of Logic in which his great worth lies, 
 namely, the Inductive Methods of the Sciences, is, considered as 
 exposition, masterly. The experimental methods are reduced to the 
 fewest and simplest forms, and the five Canons are enunciated with 
 exactitude and precision. 1 Each method is expounded, its workings 
 explained, its limits and values remarked. Then follows exact scientific 
 exemplification of the several types of procedure. We have only to 
 compare this orderly unfolding and due elaboration of thought with 
 
 1 There has been much adverse criticism of Mill's Methods, and improved 
 formulations of the Canons have been suggested ; but these are really questions of 
 Logic, with which we have no concern.
 
 94 John Stuart Mill. 
 
 Bacon's Novuvi Organum to realize what a change has come over our 
 art of exposition. Indeed, the difference in this respect even between 
 Mill and Hume is remarkable, and is probably to be accounted for 
 largely by the influence of the formal manner of Sir William Hamilton. 
 
 One of the best pieces of exposition Mill ever did, is to be found in 
 his two articles entitled Auyuste Comte and Positivism. He was deeply 
 influenced by the Positivist philosophy, and his account, in this article, 
 of its chief exponent's views leaves little to be desired. The system 
 is unfolded in a single thread of consecutive thought, and we are given 
 an insight into the main tenets with the maximum of ease and in a 
 very short space. Usually the sentences contain a thought of sufficient 
 body without undue complexity, though occasionally we come upon a 
 straggling style of composition, whereby, for the sake of brevity, thought 
 is tacked on to thought in the same sentence. The language in this 
 article on Comte is remarkably clear and precise, and there are 
 many faultless sentences and paragraphs. Other excellent and very 
 interesting pieces of exposition are found in those chapters in the 
 Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy in which Mill sets 
 forth his own views on the important questions of the existence of the 
 external world and of the mind, and in which he discusses the question 
 of the freedom of the will. 
 
 The abstract, formal style of our author is somewhat lacking in 
 force and point because of its very perfection as well ordered, 
 philosophical statement. He is indeed a most conventional writer, 
 never shocking us by any eccentricity of manner. No real literary 
 genius could have written in so colourless and impersonal a way as that 
 in which Mill constructs his abstract sentences. No doubt his forms 
 of expression are far more available for ordinary writers than any our 
 philosophical masters had employed. Average mortals could not copy 
 to advantage these characteristic and inimitable styles. There is in 
 Mill's works an entire absence of that indefinable, personal element 
 which renders the style of great writers unique. There are hardly any 
 idiosyncrasies of expression, and few signs of restless, quickening life. 
 His passages are lucid and sustained without any mysterious influence 
 or inexplicable effect. It is such as an ordinary educated mind, of an 
 abstract and unimaginative cast, would naturally adopt wherewith to 
 express its thoughts. It is ordinary pedestrian prose. 
 
 Mill's diction is marked by a calculated precision amounting to what, 
 with a less weighty manner, would be primness, and by a lucidity at
 
 John Stuart Mill. 9o 
 
 times the less apparent because of the density of the vocabulary 
 employed. Mill's efforts as a composer were almost entirely taken 
 up with the laborious endeavour to get his thoughts clearly expressed. 
 It is difficult to imagine writing clearer and with less of superfluity 
 than Mill's strictly philosophical prose. He does not wrap his thoughts 
 in cloudy effusions; every idea has the appearance of being crystallised 
 with clean cut edges and sharply denned angles. Indeed the formality 
 of Mill's abstract prose is such as to produce an apparent precision of 
 style that is not always the result of precision of thought. The 
 following short passage will illustrate the easy intelligibility and the 
 definiteness of Mill's writing : 
 
 " Logic, however, is not the same thing with knowledge, though 
 " the field of logic is coextensive with the field of knowledge. 
 " Logic is the common judge and arbiter of all particular investi- 
 " gations. It does not undertake to find evidence, but to determine 
 " whether it has been found. Logic neither observes, nor invents, 
 " nor discovers ; but judges." 1 
 
 Along with these admirable qualities, and to a great extent nullifying 
 their effect, we find certain sombre and unattractive features. Judging 
 merely from our author's diction we should have little difficulty in 
 concluding that the writer, whoever he might be, must have lived 
 since Dr. Johnson influenced English prose. Many of the most 
 potent forces of Mill's life were calculated to produce an affected and 
 pedantic mode of expression. He had a strong liking for sonorous 
 words and phrases and almost invariably prefers a long word to a short 
 one. As a result his style is often pompous and not infrequently the 
 sound is greater than the thought. Mill's vocabulary is often ponderous, 
 his phrases unwieldy and his sentences long. Many of his sentences 
 indeed are regular verbal bombardments. The following quotations will 
 indicate his swollen style : 
 
 " The claim assumes that character of absoluteness, that 
 " apparent infinity, and incommensurability with all other con- 
 " siderations, which constitute the distinction between the feeling 
 " of right and wrong and that of ordinary expediency and inex- 
 " pediency." 2 
 
 " We are continually informed that Utility is an uncertain 
 " standard, which every different person interprets differently, 
 " and that there is no safety but in the immutable, inefface- 
 
 1 System of Logic, Vol. 1., p. 9. * Utilitarianism, p. 81.
 
 96 John Stuart Mill. 
 
 " able, and unmistakeable dictates of Justice, which carry their 
 " evidence in themselves, and are independent of the fluctuations 
 " of opinion." 1 
 
 This ponderousness of diction in the more serious exposition has a 
 deadening influence. Had Mill written uniformly in this heavy, 
 laborious manner, there would have been no demand for People's 
 Editions. The meaning is quite clear indeed if we read carefully ; he 
 knows exactly what he wants to say, and says it without abnormal 
 complexity of statement and with great precision ; and yet the 
 ponderousness of his diction and the weight of his phrases oppress 
 us. The reader is conscious that these periods are equal to any 
 occasion, however imposing, and that they could convey any matter, 
 however weighty. We feel there is great work on hand, and that so 
 authoritative and dignified a bearing must needs be the accompaniment 
 of powerful thought and momentous undertakings. There is no light- 
 ness, no rapid movement about Mill's sentences. They lack vigour and 
 impetus. They are slow, deliberate, and massive. The manner is 
 eminently sane and sober. Hurry and excitement are undignified ; 
 speed is out of the question where there is such mass ; enthusiasm is 
 unscientific. 
 
 Contrast with Mill as he has hitherto appeared to us, namely, as 
 an abstract, cold, heavy, scientific writer, with a precise but somewhat 
 dreary style, Mill, the persuasive advocate and the plausible, popular 
 writer. Mill's supreme object the propagation of certain truths and 
 the overthrow of certain prejudices would not allow him to write 
 merely as an abstract speculator, who would be rarely read. Nor, as 
 we have indicated, was he a philosopher likely to tumble into the well 
 while contemplating the stars. He always had an eye on each, or 
 rather, he kept glancing from one to the other. This frequent return to 
 earth, if we may so speak, did much to ruin the consistency of his 
 philosophy, and at the same time to save his style. For while it would 
 not allow him to follow out his original principles when they developed 
 into paradoxes and unpleasant practical issues, it constantly brought 
 him down from abstruse statements to a popular, descriptive style. 
 Thus, though from his education and forced habits of thought he was 
 infected with ponderosity and dullness, as a result of his many-sided 
 interests and his devotion to great practical ends, Mill constantly 
 reverts to a plain-spoken, easy, and untechnical manner. The 
 
 1 Ibid., p. 82.
 
 John Stuart Mill. 97 
 
 Utilitarianism shows us this popular style at its hest. Ilore our author 
 is for the most part homely and simple, and there is a sustained in- 
 tensity and an effective advocacy not to he found in his larger works. 
 Here and there we come upon passages which, by their simplicity and 
 purity, remind us of Plato. The following quotations, the second of 
 which has become quite a classical passage, will illustrate these pro- 
 perties of style : 
 
 " Questions of ultimate ends are not amenable to direct proof. 
 " Whatever can be proved to be good, must he so by being shown 
 " to be a means to something admitted to be good without proof. 
 " The medical art is proved to be good, by its conducing to health ; 
 " but how is it possible to prove that health is good ? The art of 
 " music is good, for the reason, among others, that it produces 
 "pleasure; but what proof is it possible to give that pleasure is 
 " good." 1 
 
 " It is indisputable that the being whose capacities of enjoyment 
 " are low, has the greatest chance of having them fully satisfied ; 
 " and a highly-endowed being will always feel that any happiness 
 " which he can look for, as the world is constituted, is imperfect. 
 " But he can learn to bear its imperfections, if they are at all 
 " bearable ; and they will not make him envy the being who is 
 " indeed unconscious of the imperfections, but only because he 
 " feels not at all the good which those imperfections qualify. It 
 " is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; 
 " better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if 
 " the fool, or the pig, is of a different opinion, it is because they 
 " only know their side of the question. The other party to the 
 " comparison knows both sides." 2 
 
 Though Mill's dignity sometimes deteriorates into stiffness, his 
 homeliness never becomes vulgarity. His prose, when he is in the 
 mood, can come sufficiently near to the tone of conversation and can 
 put itself in touch with the reader's interest and difficulties without 
 becoming colloquial or desultory. MiU ever retains the measured style 
 seemly for a writer, and never appears in undress though he is often 
 familiar and pleasing. 
 
 An element contributing greatly to the popularity and effectiveness 
 of Mill's prose is its use of illustrations. His materials are derived 
 mainly from the facts and theories of science and from his knowledge 
 
 1 Utilitarianism, p. 6. 2 Ibid., pp. 13, 14. 
 G
 
 98 John Stuart Mill. 
 
 of practical affairs. There are no spontaneous creations of imagination ; 
 his examples have a didactic worth and give a literary relief, but do 
 little more. Mill never makes his statement in a figure, though he 
 may render an abstract discussion concrete by example or analogy. 
 His scientific illustrations were, as he tells us, obtained second hand. 
 To them the most interesting chapters of the Logic, e.g., those in the 
 Book on Fallacies, owe much of their charm. But Mill not only 
 exemplifies in this way, he frequently insinuates a principle into the 
 mind by an apt illustration or a homely analogy. It may be the 
 instance of the " village matron " to typify induction from particular to 
 particular ; or the case of the miser and his gold to shew how mere 
 means to happiness may, from habit and association, be regarded as 
 ends in themselves ; or the comparison of the Deductive Method to 
 ascending and descending a mountain only to reach the same level. A 
 clear indication of the laborious care with which Mill constructed and 
 composed his works is got by noticing the very admirable way in which 
 he gradually descends from an abstract statement of a principle, 
 through a sufficient elaboration of it, to a clinching illustration or an 
 effective climax. The following passage, which is one of the happiest 
 in the whole of Mill's works, will illustrate this careful art and the 
 pleasing effect resulting from it : 
 
 " The increasing specialisation of all employments; the division 
 " of mankind into innumerable small fractions, each engrossed by 
 " an extremely minute fragment of the business of society, is not 
 " without inconveniences, as well moral as intellectual, which, if 
 " they could not be remedied, would be a serious abatement from 
 " the benefits of advanced civilization. The interests of the 
 " whole the bearings of things on the ends of the social union 
 " are less and less present in the minds of men who have so con- 
 " tracted a sphere of activity. The insignificant detail which 
 " forms their whole occupation the infinitely minute wheel they 
 " help to turu in the machinery of society does not arouse or 
 " gratify any feeling of public spirit, or unity with their fellow 
 " men. Their work is a mere tribute to physical necessity, not 
 " the glad performance of a social office. This lowering effect of 
 " the extreme division of labour tells most of all on those who are 
 " set up as the lights and teachers of the rest. A man's mind is 
 " as fatally narrowed, and his feelings towards the great ends of 
 " humanity as miserably stunted, by giving all his thoughts to the
 
 John Stuart Mill. 99 
 
 " classification of a few insects or the resolution of a few equations, 
 " as to sharpening the points or putting on the heads of pins." 1 
 We must make brief mention also of Mill's terse, compressed, epi- 
 grammatic style. We are surprised at times with clinching brevity and 
 unlooked-for smartness in antithesis and epigram. Though he is often 
 ponderous, he is never verbose. He will not use two words where one 
 will do. He is never quite fluent, and is exceedingly sparing and exact 
 in his use of words. Though Mill neglected the artistic quality of 
 prose he was sufficiently alive to those properties of style which are 
 potent over men's minds to cause him to acquire certain effective modes 
 which to some extent make up for his limitations of taste. He had 
 a keen appreciation of French literature and admired the smartness of 
 the French no less than their refinement. One of the qualities which 
 his study of French writers led him to cultivate was epigram. It is 
 strange that the writer whose prose is frequently heavy and dull should 
 at intervals aim at terse, epigrammatic sentences. Mill often adopts a 
 clinching style where elaborate logic is out of place ; and there is 
 occasionally an abruptness that borders on epigram. When criticising 
 Comte's principle, the freedom of thought, as being of merely negative 
 value, he aptly says, 
 
 " Everyone is free to believe that two and two make ten, but 
 " the important thing is to know that they make four." 2 
 We have noticed, broadly speaking, two styles in Mill's writings. 
 It is because of these widely different manners that they have been 
 popular with persons of very diverse tastes and acquirements. The 
 mixture makes his works very readable. He soon wearies of his defini- 
 tions, his formulae, his swollen, technical paragraphs, and descends to 
 the plain spoken effective style. Now though Mill was so transparently 
 honest and candid that we could never think him capable of decep- 
 tion, it is nevertheless true that when the reader is being delighted 
 by this change and the writer is relaxing himself in this popular, 
 free style, most of the elements which can have no legitimate 
 admittance find their way unobserved into his philosophy. We have 
 been struggling through a dry technical paragraph ; all is apparently 
 logical and exact, but not very palatable and not quite convincing. 
 Instead of being bored with this abstract philosophical mode of 
 expression we are gently transported into everyday, familiar surround- 
 ings. It is here that by a looseness in a word, or by the freedom of 
 
 1 Auguste Comte and Positivism, p. 94. 2 Auguste Contte, p. 77.
 
 100 John Stuart Mill. 
 
 (supposed) equivalent modes of expression, or by the introduction of an 
 unnoticed factor in a plausible illustration, the exactness goes, and we 
 are now convinced of what before was unconvincing. What, for 
 example, can appear more straightforward than the following popularly 
 framed argument in Ch. iv. of the Utilitarianism ; yet it is full of 
 ambiguity and fallacy. 
 
 " The only proof capable of being given that an object is visible, 
 " is that people actually see it. The only proof that a sound is 
 " audible, is that people hear it; and so of the other sources of our 
 " experience. In like manner, I apprehend, the sole evidence it is 
 " possible to produce that anything is desirable, is that people do 
 " actually desire it." x 
 
 This is a mere play upon common words, and more fitting the 
 mouth of a sophist or a word juggler than a candid enquirer. By an 
 innocent loitering over such words as "visible"' and "audible," used 
 in the sense of that which is seen and heard, he artfully prepares the 
 mind for accepting the commonplace word "desirable" as meaning 
 that which is desired. If Mill were questioned from another stand- 
 point, he would hold that "desirable" means what ought to be, and 
 not what is desired. Mill's works contain many ambiguities and much 
 looseness, due to the mixing of the accurate with the vague, the 
 scientific and abstract with the popular and commonplace. 
 
 But we have not completed our review of Mill as a writer until his 
 power as a polemist and dialectician has been remarked. He was well 
 aware of his strength in this direction, and used it with very marked 
 success. Powerful as a popular advocate, he is more so as a destructive 
 and argumentative writer. Many men have damaged themselves and 
 degraded their subject by betaking themselves to polemic ; few have 
 gained so much, by its means, as Mill. He was, perhaps, better 
 equipped by natural endowments and by acquired qualities for this, 
 than for any other kind of literary work. His keen logical gifts, his 
 tact and practical common sense, his instinctive insight into the under- 
 lying motives and sentiments of an opponent, and his appreciation of 
 the real strength of prejudice, made him a skilled tactician and a most 
 politic antagonist. Moreover, the moral feelings which predominated 
 in Mill's peculiarly-constituted emotional nature frequently operated 
 most powerfully in his destructive style. There is indignation as well 
 as powerful logic; moral intensity combined with calm, collected 
 
 1 Utilitarianism, pp. 52, 53.
 
 John Stuart Mill. 101 
 
 reserve. He manifests the keenest zest in argument, along with 
 sincere love of truth and fair play. These nicely-balanced qualities 
 make him a most formidable opponent, a severe critic, and a very 
 powerful polemical writer. His modes of warfare are always honour- 
 able, and there is little in his argumentative or critical style that a 
 candid opponent could object to. His sarcasm is sparing, and not at 
 all ill-natured. His arguments are impersonal and his manner not 
 violent, though his remarks are cutting. If he could avoid rousing 
 prejudice he did so, not because of cowardice, but because the 
 successful advocacy of opinions was dear to him. We never find 
 him, from sheer pugnacity, running full tilt against opposition and 
 prejudice. He takes the line of least resistance. His argumentative 
 style is intrepid and unhesitating, yet he is never random, blustering, 
 or offensively energetic. His blade is sharp, deft, and swift, but not 
 brutal. He never loses control of himself, but is remarkably cool, even 
 when most in earnest and most indignant. Mill's points are not gained 
 by any very great subtlety, though there is skill in bringing an argu- 
 ment to bear on a vulnerable point and some ingenuity in dragging 
 inconsistencies to light. There are frequent signs of the absence of 
 metaphysical imagination, and the language is not flexible enough to 
 follow the finest turns of meaning. But what is lost in subtlety and 
 fine insight is gained in forceful dialectic. Mill's argumentative and 
 critical styles are seen at their best in the destructive portions of his 
 work entitled The Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy. 
 Whatever our views as to the worth of Mill's strictures, these chapters 
 excel as an elaborate critical handling of an opponent's doctrines. 
 Perhaps Mill was never stirred so much as by Mansel's work, entitled 
 the Limits of Religious Thought. He regarded its doctrines as so 
 immoral as to permit himself to call it a " loathsome " book. When 
 he attacks it in a digressive chapter of the Examination, his declama- 
 tory style rises to the highest point of passion and power we are aware 
 it ever attained. We quote the passage, which contains a very famous 
 climax : 
 
 " If, instead of the ' glad tidings ' that there exists a Being in 
 " whom all the excellences which the highest human mind can 
 " conceive, exist in a degree inconceivable to us, I am informed 
 " that the world is ruled by a being whose attributes are infinite, 
 " but what they are we cannot learn, nor what are the principles 
 "of his government, except that ' the highest human morality
 
 102 John Stuart Mill. 
 
 41 'which we are capable of conceiving' does not sanction them; 
 
 " convince me of it, and I will bear my fate as I may. But when 
 
 " I am told that I must believe this, and at the same time call this 
 
 " being by the names which express and affirm the highest human 
 
 " morality, I say in plain terms that I will not. Whatever power 
 
 " such a being may have over me, there is one thing which he 
 
 " shall not do : he shall not compel me to worship him. I will 
 
 " call no being good, who is not what I mean when I apply that 
 
 " epithet to my fellow-creatures; and if such a being can sentence 
 
 " me to hell for not so calling him, to hell I will go." 1 
 
 Here, even along with impassioned force and amid the strongest 
 
 modes of expression which Mill could summon to his aid, there is a 
 
 calm dignity and nobility of bearing that is very remarkable in such a 
 
 situation. 
 
 It remains for us to view, from the standpoint of literature, some of 
 the more general features of our author's writings. Mill was not in- 
 capable of eloquence of a ponderous, oratorical kind, and we find that 
 it is chiefly inspired by what may be called the master passion of 
 his soul, human interest and sympathy. This is one of the few 
 emotional forces that move his style. Mill's character was stamped 
 with a high moral seriousness, and there is a pervading tone of 
 melancholy. Not that his style is depressing ; it is rather elevating 
 and strengthening, for he had a stoic heart within him. But he is 
 touched with the feeling of the misery of human life. This under- 
 current of sadness is in keeping with his reserve of manner, while his 
 stoic resignation well supported his calm dignity. It \vas this strong, 
 permanent sympathy with humanity that was the real motive power of 
 Mill the thinker and writer. It supplied the inspiration for persistent 
 efforts to combine philosophic theory with genuine practical reforms in 
 society and in thought. The highest pitch of fervour in his style 
 is reached under the inspiration of this humanitarian sentiment. ' At 
 such points our author is very impressive though by no means over- 
 mastering. We quote below a passage in \vhich Mill treats of the 
 Eeligiou of Humanity as advocated by Comte and adopted by himself. 
 It is a period of great dignity and lofty eloquence : 
 
 " The power which may be acquired over the mind by the idea 
 " of the general interest of the human race, both as a source cf 
 " emotion and as a motive to conduct, many have perceived ; but 
 
 1 Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, pp. 123, 124.
 
 John Stuart Mill. 103 
 
 " we know not if anyone, before M. Comte, realised as fully as he 
 " has done, all the majesty of which that idea is susceptible. It 
 " ascends into the unknown recesses of the past, embraces the 
 " manifold present, and descends into the indefinite and unfor- 
 11 seeable future. Forming a collective existence without assign- 
 " able beginning or end, it appeals to that feeling of the Infinite, 
 11 which is deeply rooted in human nature, and which seems 
 " necessary to the imposinguess of all our highest conceptions. Of 
 " the vast unrolling web of human life, the part best known to us 
 " is irrevocably past ; this we can no longer serve but still love : 
 " it comprises for most of us the far greater number of those 
 " who have loved us, or from whom we have received benefits, as 
 " well as the long series of those who, by their labours and 
 " saci'ifices for mankind, have deserved to be held in everlasting 
 " and grateful remembrance. As M. Comte truly says, the highest 
 " minds, even now live in thought with the great dead, far more 
 11 than with the living ; and, next to the dead, with those ideal 
 " human beings yet to come, whom they are never destined to see. 
 " If we honour as we ought those who have served mankind in the 
 " past, we shall feel that we are also working for those benefactors 
 " by serving that to which their lives were devoted. And when 
 " reflection, guarded by history, has taught us the intimacy of the 
 " connection of every age of humanity with every other, making 
 " us see in the earthly destiny of mankind the playing out of a 
 " great drama, or the action of a prolonged epic, all the generations 
 " of mankind become indissolubly united in a single image, 
 " combining all the power over the mind of the idea of Posterity, 
 " with our best feelings towards the living world which surrounds 
 " us, and towards the predecessors who have made us what 
 " we are." 1 
 
 Mill's art is rather of the rhetorical than of the literary type. It is 
 not easy to read his prose without falling into an oratorical, declama- 
 tory swing and tone as the ear catches the sonorousness of the words 
 and the weighty, measured sway of the sentences. In some of his later 
 works, and especially in his political compositions, there is an im- 
 passioned oratory that contrasts strangely with the cold, abstract style 
 of the scientific teacher. His general manner is characterised by 
 plainness and solidity. The sentences are carefully constructed, but 
 
 1 Augusts Comte and Positivism, p. 135.
 
 104 John Stuart Mill. 
 
 merely with a view to utility. He writes as one would lay the 
 foundations of an edifice, with regularity and strength, but without 
 attempt at grace or adornment. His tastes and finer feeling were not 
 sufficiently cultivated or drawn upon greatly to influence his writings, 
 nor was his imagination strong enough to tinge them with any glow of 
 more congenial light. The words he uses are conventional and plain ; 
 picturesque and highly-coloured forms of expression are vetoed. He 
 has no love of words ; that is, he has no pure love of speech. Speech 
 is for him a medium merely, and its worth depends upon its adequacy 
 and exactness, not its beauty or charm. Mill gained much by effective 
 persuasion, nothing by artistic literary appliances. 
 
 But Mill not only neglected the artistic properties of his medium, 
 he had an habitual curb on natural expression of feeling. Hence, his 
 style is marked by rigidity, formalism, and reserve. There is the lack 
 of rapid movement, warm enthusiasm, and spontaneous bursts of 
 feeling. He speaks to us, as it were from a distance, through his 
 medium not in it. The effect of this reserved manner on his writings 
 is to give them a chilly, uncongenial atmosphere. It is this that 
 produces so uncomfortable a feeling in many readers ; a feeling 
 experienced by Caroline Fox and well expressed in her Memoirs. 
 She speaks of " that terrible book of John Mill's on Liberty, so clear 
 " and calm and cold. . . . MiU makes me shiver, his blade is 
 " so keen and unhesitating." It is difficult to explain this severe tone 
 of Mill's writings in the face of the declarations of those who knew him 
 that he was a man of unusual depth of feeling. This his style seems 
 to belie ; and the popular opinion of Mill is, that he was a cold, 
 passionless, intellectual machine. This misrepresentation of the man 
 by his own style is caused by that obstinate impenetrable reserve of 
 manner for which his early training was largely responsible. He is far 
 from being so vivid and realistic in his conceptions as our greatest 
 philosophical writers. And he largely succeeds in stripping his thought 
 and his expression of anything that would make it Mill's rather than 
 anyone else's. Hence the fact that his feelings have so little effect on 
 his general literary manner. His motives were mainly of the lofty, 
 severe and moral type. However this may be, the marked impression 
 we get from the study of our author is that he has not revealed his 
 deepest nature in his style. Next to this reserve of manner, the 
 tone that most uniformly pervades Mill's prose is a certain serene 
 dignity well befitting deep thought and pure aims. He has not the
 
 John Stuart Mill. 105 
 
 lordly air of Bacon, and there is a total absence of gaudy, affected 
 grandeur, but in its place there is a quiet unostentatious dignity that 
 is very impressive. We ever have that sense of confidence which is 
 produced by a style felt to be working well within its limits. There is 
 no faltering weakness, neither is there nervousness or fuss. There is 
 the carriage of one who has not the slightest misgiving as to the 
 genuineness and importance of his own endeavour. Mill's was a 
 lofty, dignified soul and his style never belies this character. The 
 more we study his writings, the more we feel him to be, what 
 Mr. Gladstone has called him, the " Saint of Rationalism." 
 
 MOHBIS & YKAMAN, Printers, Queen Street, Manchester.
 
 A 000 573 952 9 
 
 UCR COPT IS IMPERFECT 
 
 pages 17 thru 20 
 are missing