Mallock too seriously: he has not written in
earnest. But, as his uncle, Mr. Froude, said, when reading "The New
Republic,"--"The rogue is clever!" He has read a good deal, he has an
active mind, a smooth redundancy of expression, a talent for caricature, a
fondness for epigram and paradox, a useful shallowness, and an amusing
impudence. He has no practical knowledge of mankind, no experience of
life, no commanding point of view, and no depth of insight. He has no
conception of the meaning and quality of the problems with whose exterior
aspects he so prettily trifles. He has constructed a Science of Human
Character without for one moment being aware that, for instance, human
character and human nature are two distinct things; and that, furthermore,
the one is everything that the other is not. As little is he conscious of
the significance of the words "society" and "civilization"; nor can he
explain whether, or why, either of them is desirable or undesirable, good
or bad. He has never done, and (judging from his published works) we do
not believe him capable of doing, any analytical or constructive thinking;
at most, as in the present volume, he turns a few familiar objects upside
down, and airily invites his audience to believe that he has thereby
earned the name of Discoverer, if not of Creator.
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