like a
conclusion in geometry, or in any kind of mathematical reasoning; that
in default of this inference from self-evident premises to propositions
of equal cogency, we must, in a matter of paramount practical
importance, be content to judge, as fairly and soberly as we can, by
that "probability" which Butler calls "the guide of life." Wilkins
perceived, what few in his time perceived, that there are no
"demonstrations" of Christianity, nor even of Theism; that faith is
faith. Further, he emphasises the harmony between Natural and Revealed
Religion, the fact that one is the complement of the other. But in him
there are not the depth, candour, and seriousness of Butler, nor that
sense of mystery which makes him the weightiest of Christian Apologists
in the estimation both of disciples and opponents.

The book by which Wilkins will always be remembered among curious
students and philologers is his 'Essay towards a Real Character and a
Philosophical Language.' It is a quarto of 600 pages, including an
alphabetical dictionary of English words, with their equivalents in what
may be called, without irreverence, Wilkinese. It was written at the
request of the Royal Society, and, by its order, published in 1688. The
meaning of the somewhat obscure title is explained by Wilkins in a very
interesting preface. Character means language, or rather writing, and a
universal character is the script of a language like that which was
spoken before the confusion of tongues; a language for and of all men.
By "Real" is signified that the new language is founded on a study of
things which are "better than words"; of "the nature of things, and that
common notion of them wherein mankind does agree." The making of such a
language "will prove the shortest and plainest way for the attainment of
real knowledge," and the language thus made will be truly philosophical,
or, to use our modern term, scientific. The labour bestowed by Wilkins
on his magnificent project was immense, but the result was failure.
"Sunt lacrimae rerum," and tears were never shed over a greater waste of
ingenuity and heroic toil, if indeed a fine example of fruitless
devotion is to be called waste. With apologies to the Esperantists, it
must be said that the invention of a universal language, of any but the
narrowest compass, seems impossible, for language, in any real sense, is
not made but grows. It is dangerous, however, to dogmatise on
possibilities. Misled, as we can