571: A Lack of Full Humanity.

Some forty years ago two comments on Mill used often to be cited, made by the two men who were then the most prominent figures in the English world of politics. Mr. Gladstone spoke of him (and, I think, also wrote of him) as the “saint of Rationalism.” Mr. Disraeli, whose attention was called to Mill by his somewhat unexpected apparition in later life in the House of Commons as member for Westminster, when asked after a session’s experience of the new member what he thought of him, replied with a shrug of the shoulders, “A political finishing governess.” […]

Mill had the educating mania, and it was largely inspired by that religious zeal for the improvement of mankind which formed part of his “saintship.” From his father he had early learnt to think that if only people were thoroughly well educated and freed from the dead hand of outworn institutions all would be well with the world. And greatly though his views eventually changed, this early way of looking at things left its stamp on him through life. His cult of education issued in a certain priggishness and preciseness, and a detestation of anything vague and not clearly communicable to those whom he would instruct and help. It is to this side of his intellectual character that we may set down his admiration for the French intellect and his extraordinary undervaluing of such German metaphysicians as Hegel and Fichte. To this again must be ascribed his intense joy in distinct classification which made Dumont’s redaction of Bentham (of which I shall speak later on) as inspiring and satisfying to him as Fichte and Hegel were almost physically distressing. It is the “finishing governess” element again which made his own unique and precocious early education for years the sole matter of interest to him, and led him afterwards to analyze its results with such painful care. Like a Jesuit confessor he regarded recreation only as a means to the accomplishment of his main purpose. In his autobiography he refers to frequent holidays as a boy of seven, eight, nine, and ten spent at the old baronial hall (Ford Abbey) rented by Mr. Bentham, as “an important circumstance in my education,” and as contributing “to nourish elevation of sentiment.” He saw the Pyrenees at the age of fourteen. This is interesting to him because it “gave a colour to my tastes through life.” The interest of nearly every event in his life is determined by its effect on his mind and character.

The priggishness and preciseness which called forth Disraeli’s saying were in part caused by those peculiarities of Mill’s own early education. He had the ways of one who learnt in the first instance from books and in the schoolroom rather than, as Charles Dickens did, from the vivid impressions made by actual life on a boy’s imagination. Mr. Bain tells us that to the end his hold on abstract principles was far closer than on the concrete on the facts of life and the world. His extraordinary precocity was a hot-house growth, and he never quite recovered the fulness of human nature. There was in Mill to the end a certain thinness of sympathy and a deficiency in geniality, though his sympathies were very intense in their own narrow groove. There was a lack of full humanity. He had little sense of the ludicrous. He did not enter into or understand the varieties of human character, and he was wanting in virility.

(Wilfrid Ward, Men and Matters. London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1914, pp. 146–148).

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571: A Lack of Full Humanity.

564: 2.400 Years.

Stove is not always convincing. […] His intolerance for balderdash sometimes led him drastically to undervalue the achievements of other philosophers. It is understandable that he should despise deliberately mystifying writers like Hegel and Heidegger — whatever their virtues, both were addicted to opacity. But it will hardly do to dismiss Plato (“that scourge of the human mind”) and Kant (for example) as overrated poseurs. In such cases, Stove’s impatience led him into caricature. “Plato’s discovery,” Stove writes, “went as follows”:

It is possible for something to be a certain way and for something else to be the same way.

So

There are universals.

(Tumultuous applause, which lasts, despite occasional subsidences, 2,400 years.)

(Roger Kimball, “Who Was David Stove?,” The New Criterion, Vol. XV, No. 7, p. 21).

564: 2.400 Years.

291: A New Order.

Heap after heap of human beings have been dumped on to the historic scene at such an accelerated rate that it has been difficult to saturate them with traditional culture […] What is he like, this mass-man who today dominates public life, political and non-political, and why? […] Nothing is happening now which was not foreseen a hundred years ago. “The masses are advancing,” said Hegel in apocalyptic fashion. “Without some new spiritual influence, our age, which is a revolutionary age, will produce a catastrophe,” was the pronouncement of Comte. “I see the flood-tide of nihilism rising,” shrieked Nietzsche from a crag of the Engadine. […] The nineteenth century was of its essence revolutionary. This aspect is not to be looked for in the scenes of the barricades, which are mere incidents, but in the fact that it placed the average man — the great social mass — in conditions of life radically opposed to those by which he had always been surrounded. It turned his public existence upside down. Revolution is not the uprising against pre-existing order, but the setting up of a new order contradictory to the traditional one.

(José Ortega y Gasset; quoted in Peter Viereck, Conservatism: from John Adams to Churchill. Princeton, N.J.: D. Van Nostrand Company, 1956, p. 181).

291: A New Order.

73: Historical Experience.

Rulers, statesmen and nations are often advised to learn the lesson of historical experience. But what experience and history teach is this — that nations and governments have never learnt anything from history, or acted upon any lessons they might have drawn from it.

(Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Lectures on the Philosophy of World History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975, p. 21).

73: Historical Experience.

19: A Road Open.

I was very much surprised when Mill informed me that he had not read a line of Hegel, either in the original or in translation, and regarded the entire Hegelian philosophy as sterile and empty sophistry. I mentally confronted this with the opinion of the man at the Copenhagen University who knew the history of philosophy best, my teacher, Hans Bröchner, who knew, so to speak, nothing of contemporary English and French philosophy, and did not think them worth studying. I came to the conclusion that here was a task for one who understood the thinkers of the two directions, who did not mutually understand one another.

I thought that in philosophy, too, I knew what I wanted, and saw a road open in front of me.

(Georg Brandes, Reminiscences of My Childhood and Youth. New York: Duffield & Company, 1906, pp. 276–277).

19: A Road Open.