ard the Revolution made a clean sweep of all the old
institutions in France, and thus laid open a bare and level ground
just suited, as Bentham thought, for an architect who had his
portfolio full of new administrative plans. It was long, indeed,
before he could understand why systematic reforms were not immediately
accepted as soon as their utility was logically demonstrated. He lost
no time in providing the French National Assembly with elaborate
schemes for the reconstruction of various departments of government,
and he even offered to go to France to set up his model prison,
proposing himself 'to become gratuitously the gaoler thereof.' The
Assembly requited his zeal by conferring on him the title of a French
citizen; but social reorganisation took the shape of September
massacres and the Reign of Terror, whereat Bentham was disgusted,
though in no way disheartened, as a theorist.

'Never' (says Mr. Stephen) 'was an adviser more at cross purposes
with the advised. It would be impossible to draw a more striking
portrait of the abstract reasoner, whose calculations of human
motives omit all reference to passion, and who fancied that all
prejudice can be dispelled by a few bits of logic.'

Here, in fact, we have the key to Bentham's character, to its weakness
and also to its strength. A philosopher who plunges into the practical
affairs of the world without taking human feelings and imagination
into account is sure to find himself stumbling about among blocks and
blockheads, and tripped up by the ill-will of vested interests; but on
the other hand, if he has taken the right direction, his ardent
energies have the impetus of some natural force. Bentham's earlier
notion had been that political reforms could be introduced like
improvements in machinery; you had only to prove the superior utility
of your new invention to obtain its adoption by all who were concerned
in the business. Latterly he made the surprising discovery that in the
public offices, in the Law, and in the Church, the heads of these
professions are usually quite satisfied with their own monopolies, are
opposed to change, and are always ready with a stock of plausible
arguments to show the folly and danger of innovation. If the
Utilitarian appeals to facts, common sense, and experience, so also
does the Conservative; and until public opinion is decidedly for
progress the dead weight prevails. Not for a day did Bentham relax his
s