s book in _Works_,
vii. 219-20 ('Rationale of Evidence'). Several editions appeared from
1725 to 1761. See _Works_, vi. 465, for a recollection of similar
experiences.

[213] _Ibid._ viii. 148 _n._; x. 183.

II. FIRST WRITINGS

Though lost to the bar, he had really found himself. He had taken the
line prescribed by his idiosyncrasy. His father's injudicious forcing
had increased his shyness at the bar, and he was like an owl in
daylight. But no one, as we shall see, was less diffident in
speculation. Self-confidence in a philosopher is often the private
credit which he opens with his imagination to compensate for his
incapacity in the rough struggles of active life. Bentham shrank from
the world in which he was easily browbeaten to the study in which he
could reign supreme. He had not the strong passions which prompt
commonplace ambition, and cared little for the prizes for which most men
will sacrifice their lives. Nor, on the other hand, can he be credited
with that ardent philanthropy or vehement indignation which prompts to
an internecine struggle with actual wrongdoers. He had not the ardour
which led Howard to devote a life to destroy abuses, or that which
turned Swift's blood to gall in the struggle against triumphant
corruption. He was thoroughly amiable, but of kindly rather than
energetic affections. He, therefore, desired reform, but so far from
regarding the ruling classes with rancour, took their part against the
democrats. 'I was a great reformist,' he says, 'but never suspected that
the "people in power" were against reform. I supposed they only wanted
to know what was good in order to embrace it.'[214] The most real of
pleasures for him lay in speculating upon the general principles by
which the 'people in power' should be guided. To construct a general
chart for legislation, to hunt down sophistries, to explode mere noisy
rhetoric, to classify and arrange and re-classify until his whole
intellectual wealth was neatly arranged in proper pigeon-holes, was a
delight for its own sake. He wished well to mankind; he detested abuses,
but he hated neither the corrupted nor the corruptors; and it might
almost seem that he rather valued the benevolent end, because it gave
employment to his faculties, than valued the employment because it led
to the end. This is implied in his remark made at the end of his life.
He was, he said, as selfish as a man could be; but 'somehow or other'
selfishness had in him take