Born, at Langport, Somersetshire, 3 Feb. 1826. At school in Bristol. To Univ. College, London 1842; B.A. and Mathematical Scholarship, 1846; M.A. and gold medal for philosophy and political economy, 1848. In Paris, 1851. Contrib. letters to “The Inquirer,” Dec. 1851. Called to Bar, 1852. Edited “National Review” (with R. H. Hutton), 1855–64. Married Miss Wilson, 1858. Editor of “The Economist,” 1860–77. Died, at Langport, 24 March 1877. Works: “Estimates of some Englishmen and Scotchmen” (from “National Review”), 1858; “Parliamentary Reform” (from “Nat. Review”), 1859; “The History of the Unreformed Parliament” (from “Nat. Rev.”), 1860; “Memoir of the Rt. Hon. J. Wilson” (from “Economist”), 1861; “Count your Enemies,” 1862; “The English Constitution” (from “Fortnightly Rev.”), 1867 (new ed., enlarged, 1872); “A Practical Plan for Assimilating the English and American Money” (from “Economist”), 1869; “Physics and Politics,” 1872; “Lombard Street,” 1873 (2nd–4th edns., same year); “Some Articles on the Depreciation of Silver” (from “Economist”), 1877. Posthumous: “Literary Studies,” ed. by R. H. Hutton (2 vols.), 1879 [1878]; “Economic Studies,” ed. by Hutton, 1880; “Biographical Studies,” ed. by Hutton 1881; “Essays on Parliamentary Reform,” 1883; “The Postulates of English Political Economy,” ed. by A. Marshall, 1885. Collected Works: ed. by F. Morgan, with memoir by R. H. Hutton (American ed., 5 vols.), 1889.

Personal

  Though himself extremely cool and sceptical about political improvement of every sort, he took abundant interest in more ardent friends. Perhaps it was that they amused him; in return his good-natured ironies put them wholesomely on their mettle. As has been well said of him, he had a unique power of animation without combat; it was all stimulus and yet no contest; his talk was full of youth, yet had all the wisdom of mature judgment (R. H. Hutton). Those who were least willing to assent to Bagehot’s practical maxims in judging current affairs, yet were well aware how much they profited by his Socratic objections, and knew, too, what real acquaintance with men and business, what honest sympathy and friendliness, and what serious judgment and interest all lay under his playful and racy humour.

  Bagehot was one of the best conversers of his day. He was not only vivid, witty, and always apt to strike a light in conversation, but he helped in every real effort to get at the truth, with a unique and rare power, of lucid statement. One of his friends said of him: “I never knew a power of discussion, of co-operative investigation of truth,” to approach to his. “It was all stimulus, and yet no contest.”

  The books which I have passed in rapid review form an immense output for a man who died at fifty-one, but I am not sure that the impression of power which was produced by his conversation was not even greater. Perhaps its most remarkable feature was its unexpectedness. However well you knew him you could not foresee how he would express himself on any subject, but when you knew it, you had in the immense majority of cases to admit that which he said was admirably said.

General

  It is inevitable, I suppose, that the world should judge of a man chiefly by what it has gained in him, and lost by his death, even though a very little reflection might sometimes show that the special qualities which made him so useful to the world implied others of a yet higher order, in which, to those who knew him well, these more conspicuous characteristics must have been well-nigh emerged. And while of course it has given me great pleasure, as it must have given pleasure to all Bagehot’s friends, to hear the Chancellor of the Exchequer’s evidently genuine tribute to his financial sagacity in the Budget speech, and Lord Granville’s eloquent acknowledgments of the value of Bagehot’s Political counsels as editor of the Economist, in the speech delivered at the London University on the 9th of May, I have sometimes felt somewhat unreasonably vexed that those who appreciated so well what I might almost call the smallest part of him, appeared to know so little of the essence of him,—of the high-spirited, buoyant, subtle, speculative nature in which the imaginative qualities were even more remarkable than the judgment, and were indeed at the root of all that was strongest in the judgment,—of the gay and dashing humour which was the life of every conversation in which he joined,—and of the visionary nature to which the commonest things often seem the most marvellous, and the marvellous things the most intrinsically probable. To those who hear of Bagehot only as an original political economist and a lucid political thinker, a curiously false image of him must be suggested…. This, at all events, I am quite sure of, that so far as his judgment was sounder than other men’s—and on many subjects it was much sounder—it was not in spite of, but in consequence of, the excursive imagination and vivid humour which are so often accused of betraying otherwise sober minds into dangerous aberrations. In him both lucidity and caution were directly traceable to the force of his imagination.

  In some respects, the intellect of the gifted man whose name furnished the title of the present paper, was typical of the age. It was fearless and independent, accepting only that which came with well-established claims upon its credence; it was susceptible, yet capable of giving exact weight to the opinions and ideas which impinged upon its susceptibility; it was dissatisfied with the status quo, both in theology and politics; and, as in the case of all the best minds, it was not utterly devoid of some tinge of Utopianism. To a frank and liberal nature were united deep mental culture, considerable philosophical power, imaginative endowments of no mean order, and—what is more surprising than all, perhaps, after the qualities just enumerated—a large practical ability rarely witnessed in this order of brain. Few men of our own time have combined in so eminent a degree “the useful and the beautiful”—if we may use a common phrase in this connection. Yet his name and his writings are by no means so widely known as they deserve to be.

  So far from being dry or dull, his analytic force vivifies whatever it touches. His own enjoyment of his researches, finding vent in many quips and cranks and illustrative “excursuses” from his main theme, is contagious. The most careful student of Bishop Butler as an abstract writer would be astonished to find how many new lights are thrown on his celebrated “Analogy” by a reference to the circumstances in which it was composed; and the critic enters with equally fresh and keen-sighted delight into the underlying impulses of the songs of Béranger and Burns, the poems of Cowper and Wordsworth, the novels of Thackeray and Dickens, the historical writings of Gibbon and Macaulay, the political and literary essays of the first Edinburgh Reviewers. There is no affectation of universal knowledge; you feel unmistakably that Mr. Bagehot wrote about all these things because he was interested in them. You feel also that he had a deep understanding of everything that he handled.

  I have recently read the “Literary Studies” of Mr. Walter Bagehot, published since his death. I was curious to see this book as a statement of his opinions upon the subjects which it discusses, but still more as an expression of the author. One is interested to observe the steps by which a man, attracted by many and diverse subjects, at last finds his way to the kind of work which he can do best. The essays are pleasant and amusing reading, but somewhat disappointing. The fault of them is that they are too theoretical and not sufficiently immediate. Instead of looking directly at the subject and describing it as he perceives it to be, he argues, infers, etc. But this was not Mr. Bagehot’s way of writing upon other than literary subjects; the best things which occur in his far more valuable political works and his writings in the Economist are the results of a profound and subtle intuition…. It is as a journalist that Mr. Bagehot seems to me to have been particularly admirable and worthy of imitation. Among the admirable qualities of his writings in the Economist, that which ought especially to be imitated was his respect for business and public action…. His manner was that of a man who sits down among a number of friends, as honorable and intelligent as himself, to discuss things and not to make a vain and ineffectual display of words. His especial title to praise and imitation is that he looked upon journalism as action rather than literature, and upon himself as a partaker in the public business of the day rather than as a man of letters…. His style is an excellent model for writers who would do what he did. It was very conversational and cautious, and was therefore well suited to express the thoughts of one who was first of all an inquirer, who was rather a judge than an advocate, though he was capable of advocating effectively views which he had accepted with circumspection…. Mr. Bagehot’s style moves with the caution of his thoughts. His mind scrutinizes the subject, and, from its careful way of proceeding, adopts a language which is cautious and has but little motion. There are other minds, however, to whom it is natural to express thoughts formed with the greatest deliberation with rapidity and rhythm. Both styles are true, although of the two the first is the less liable to exaggeration and affected imitation.

  Every writer has the defect of his qualities, and I should say that Bagehot, while possessing the inventive and imaginative mind, which enabled him to discover and to describe so clearly, did not excel either in that laboured ratiocination or minute analysis which are essential to the highest success in some branches of economic study. He could both sustain a long argument and analyse minutely. Whatever he had to do he did thoroughly, and took what pains were necessary—in some cases he had conspicuously that transcendent capacity for taking trouble which Carlyle describes as the quality of genius. Still it did not “come naturally” to him to do either of these things, and he was not here conspicuously successful.

  I find some good Stuff in Bagehot’s Essays, in spite of his name, which is simply “Bagot,” as men call it.

  Bagehot has brought more knowledge of life and originality of mind to the elucidation of the theory and practice of English politics than any man since Burke. He is the only Englishman of first-rate talents who, during the last half-century, has applied the whole force of his mind to the analysis of the mass of laws, maxims, and habits which go to make up the English Constitution. In the course of a few years he will undoubtedly be recognized by all the world as the most eminent of constitutionalists. If this recognition has not yet been attained, the failure, such as it is, is due mainly to the versatility of Bagehot’s interests, and to the consequent difficulty felt by ordinary students in believing that a writer who excelled in so many fields of speculation—in the sphere of criticism, of imaginative literature, and of political economy—could be pre-eminent in one field; and to the lucidity of Bagehot’s explanations, which led even those who learnt most from his pages into the delusion that what their teacher explained so easily was in itself easy to explain and hardly needed explanation.

  A series of essays on the various branches and functions of the English government. It is the most brilliant political work that has appeared in Europe in many years; the most brilliant that has appeared in England since the death of Burke. It should be thoughtfully studied by every student of political forms and methods. Bagehot’s leading characteristic is not so much that he describes the English government as that he penetrates beyond its forms and examines the essence and significance of whatever part of it he has in hand. To a student, therefore, who already knows something of the organization of the government, Bagehot is likely to be the most suggestive and awakening of all writers. The work is so free from all controversial spirit that it is not easy to decide from it whether the author ranks himself as a Liberal or as a Conservative. While he admires the English government as a whole, he does not hesitate to criticise it sharply wherever he finds a weak point. Another feature of the volume is in the frequent comparisons into which the author enters of the results of English methods, and of the results of other methods elsewhere. These comparisons may not always be accepted as entirely just, but they are always suggestive and never commonplace. The author’s style is exceedingly vivacious, and therefore the book is as interesting as it is valuable.

  No one who does not—as probably no one save a possible future editor ever will—compare this edition, word by word, with any former ones, can form any adequate conception of the shocking state of Bagehot’s text as heretofore given to the world; there is nothing even remotely approaching it in the case of any other English writer of high rank since Shakespeare’s time. This reflects no discredit on Mr. Hutton, who simply left it as he found it, and who shows in his memoir of Bagehot that he knew it was not in very good shape,—though apparently he did not realize how bad it was; but I think it does reflect a good deal on Bagehot, who could have saved the worst things by the most casual glance at his proofs, and who evidently never even looked at most of them at all. These slips cover almost the entire possible range of human blunders, and are sometimes of serious moment. Perhaps the most numerous sort resulted from misreading by the printers of Bagehot’s not very legible handwriting, perpetuated by his failure to correct them. Through this, some of the review articles are perfect museums of grotesque errors…. Regarding the “English Constitution,” appreciation of its immense merits must be taken for granted; praising it is as superfluous as praising Shakespeare. Every student knows that it has revolutionized the fashion of writing on its subject, that its classifications of governments are accepted commonplaces, that it is the leading authority in its own field and a valued store of general political thought.

  With his habitual sincerity.

  There is no acuter critic of men and books, and none with less literary bias.

  These are eminently businesslike sentences. They are not consciously concerned with style; they do not seem to stop for the turning of a phrase; their only purpose seems to be plain elucidation, such as will bring the matter within the comprehension of everybody. And yet there is a stirring quality in them which operates upon the mind like wit. They are tonic and full of stimulus. No man could have spoken them without a lively eye. I suppose their “secret of utility” to be a very interesting one indeed,—and nothing less than the secret of all Bagehot’s power. Young writers should seek it out and ponder it studiously. It is this: he is never writing “in the air.” He is always looking point-blank and with steady eyes upon a definite object; he takes pains to see it, alive and natural, as it really is; he uses a phrase, as the masters of painting use a color, not because it is beautiful,—he is not thinking of that,—but because it matches life, and is the veritable image of the thing of which he speaks. Moreover, he is not writing merely to succeed at that; he is writing, not to describe, but to make alive. And so the secret comes to light.

  Whatever the value of Bagehot’s theories, his literary faculty was, of course, incomparably superior to Ricardo’s. His books confirm what his friends tell us of his conversation. His mind was so alert, his interest in life so keen, and his powers of illustration so happy, that he could give freshness even to talk upon the British Constitution and liveliness to a discussion of the Bank reserve. He could not, that is, be dull or commonplace even on the driest or tritest of topics…. Bagehot’s strong point, indeed, is insight into character: what one of his critics has called his “Shakespearean” power of perceiving the working of men’s minds…. When a dull man of business talks of the currency question, says Bagehot, he puts “bills” and “bullion” into a sentence, and does not care what comes between them. He illustrates Hobbes’ famous principle that words are the money of fools and the counters of the wise. The word currency loses all interest if we do not constantly look beyond the sign to the thing signified. Bagehot never forgets that condition of giving interest to his writing. Few readers will quite accept the opinion of his editor, that he has made “Lombard Street” as entertaining as a novel. But he has been wonderfully successful in tackling so arid a topic; and the statement gives the impression made by the book. It seems as though the ordinary treatises had left us in the full leaden cloud of a London fog, which, in Bagehot’s treatment, disperses to let us see distinctly and vividly the human beings previously represented by vague, colourless phantoms.

  Mr. Bagehot’s books are full of actuality. His pages are so animated that something seems to happen in almost every one of them. The hippopotamus sticks out his head, as does the ox with that wonderful wet nose on the foreground of Rubens’ “Nativity” in the Antwerp gallery…. Mr. Bagehot is not only an original writer, but he presents you with his thoughts and fancies in an unworked state. He is not an artist; he does not stop to elaborate and dress up his material; but having said something which is worth saying and has not been said before, this strange writer is content to pass hurriedly on to say something else. There is more meat on Mr. Bagehot’s bones for the critics than almost on anybody else’s; hence his extreme utility to the nimble-minded and light-hearted gentry aforementioned. Bagehot crops up all over the country. His mind is lent out; his thoughts toss on all waters; his brew, mixed with a humbler element, may be tapped; elsewhere he has made a hundred small reputations. Nothing would have pleased him better; his fate would have jumped with his ironical humour…. A strain of very severe morality runs through all Mr. Bagehot’s literary criticism. It is noticeable in his reviews of Thackeray and Dickens. I have no quarrel with it. I have heard Mr. Bagehot called a paradoxical writer. This is absurd. A paradoxical talker he may have been. Conversation without paradox is apt to be as dull as still champagne, but in his considered writings, after he had outgrown his boyish ὑβρις, a love of the truth is conspicuous throughout. He is pre-eminently a sensible, truthful man. But, there is the rub; he hated dulness, apathy, pomposity, the time-worn phrase, the greasy platitude. His writings are an armoury of offensive weapons against pompous fools. The revenge taken by these paltry, meaningless persons is to hiss paradox whenever the name of their tormentor is mentioned.