—0^=6 i J^^ w r /, cxT ■ - ^V K«> bi X -^^ j <J TT \ ^ THE PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS OF DAVID HUME. THE PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS OF DAVID HUME. INCLUDING ALL THE ESSAYS, AND EXHIBITING THE MORE IMPORTANT ALTERATIONS AND CORRECTIONS IN THE SUCCESSIVE EDITIONS PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. IN FOUR VOLUMES. VOL. III. EDINBURGH : PRINTED FOR ADAM BLACK AND WILLIAM TAIT ; AND CHARLES TAIT, 63, FLEET STREET, LONDON. MDCCCXXVI. 3 ESSAYS MORAL, POLITICAL, AND LITERARY. PART I. rUBlISHED IN MBCCXLII, ESSAY I. OF THE DELICACY OF TASTE AND PASSION. ^OME people are subject to a certain delicacy of /xxss/ow, which makes them extremely sensible to all the acci- dents of life, and gives them a lively joy upon every prosperous event, as well as a piercing grief when they meet with misfortunes and adversity. Favours and good offices easily engage their friendship, while the small- est injury provokes their resentment. Any honour or mark of distinction elevates them above measure, but they are as sensibly touched with contempt. People of this character have, no doubt, more lively enjoy- ments, as well as more pungent sorrows, than men of cool and sedate tempers. But, I believe, when every thing is balanced, there is no one who would not ra- ther be of the latter character, were he entirely master of his own disposition. Good or ill fortune is very little at our disposal ; and when a person that has this sensibility of temper meets with any misfortune, his sorrow or resentment takes entire possession of him, and deprives him of all relish in the common occur- rences of life, the right enjoyment of which forms the chief part of our happiness. Great pleasures are much , less frequent than great pains, so that a sensible tem- per must meet with fewer trials in the former way than VOL. III. A 2 4 ESSAY I. in tlie latter. Not to mention, that men of such lively passions are apt to be transported beyond all bounds of prudence and discretion, and to take false steps in the conduct of life, which are often irretrievable. There is a dcUcacij of taste observable in some men, which very much resembles this delicacy ofj^^ssion^ and produces the same sensibility to beauty and deformity of every kind, as that does to prosperity and adversity, obliirations and injuries. When you present a poem or a picture to a man possessed of this talent, the delicacy of his feeling makes him be sensibly touched with every part of it ; nor are the masterly strokes perceived with more exquisite relish and satisfaction, than the negli- gences or absurdities with disgust and uneasiness. A polite and judicious conversation affords him the high- est entertainment ; rudeness or impertinence is as great punishment to him. In short, delicacy of taste has tlie same effect as delicacy of passion. It enlarges the sphere both of our hapi)iness and misery, and makes us sensible to jiains as well as pleasures which escape the rest of mankind. I believe, however, ever}^ one will agree with me, that notwithstanding this resemblance, delicacy of taste is as much to be desired and cultivated, as delicacy of passion is to be lamented, and to be remedied, if possible. "^I'lie good or ill accidents of life are very little at our disposal ; but we arc juxtty much masters what books we shall read, what cHversions we shall {)artake of, and what com- pany we shall keep. Philosophers have endeavoured to render ]ia))piness entirely independent of every thing exteriKil. The degree of perfection is impossible to be \ntlain((l: hut every wise nuaii will endeavour to place ( his hai)|)iness on such objects chiefly as depend upon himself; and llml is not lo be (illdincd so much by any DELICACY OF TASTE. O Oilier means as by this delicacy of sentiment. When a man is possessed of that talent, he is more happy by what pleases his taste, than by what o-ratifies his appe- tites, and receives more enjoyment from a poem, or a piece of reasoning, than the most expensive luxury can afford. ^ Whatever connexion there may be originally be- tween these two species of delicacy, I am persuaded that nothing is so proper to cure us of this delicacy of passion, as the cultivating of that higher and more re- fined taste, which enables us to judge of the characters of men, of compositions of genius, and of the produc- tions of the nobler arts. A greater or less relish for those obvious beauties which strike the senses, depends entirely upon the greater or less sensibility of the tem- per ; but with regard to the sciences and liberal arts, a fine taste is, in some measure, the same with strong sense, or at least depends so much upon it that they are inseparable. In order to judge aright of a compo- sition of genius, there are so many views to be taken in, so many circumstances to be compared, and such a knowledge of human nature requisite, that no man, who is not possessed of the soundest judgment, will ever make a tolerable critic in such performances. And this is a new reason for cultivating a relish in the libe- \ ral arts. Our judgment will strengthen by this exer- j cise. We shall form juster notions of life. Many 1 How far the delicacy of taste, and that of passion, arc connected together in the original frame of the mind, it is hard to determine. To me there appears to be a very considerable connexion betwixt them. For we may observe that v^•omen, who have more delicate passions thaa men, have also a more delicate taste of the ornaments of life, of dress, equipage, and the ordinary decencies of behaviour. Any excellency in these hits their taste much sooner than ours ; and when you please thcif :t<jbte, you soon engage their affections. — EuixioK-i A, C, D, N, 0 ESSAY I. lliiii(Ts which please or afllict others, wITl appear to us too riivoh)iis to enffiifje our attention ; and we shall lose by tlo<irrces that sensibility and delicacy of passion, which is so incommodious. But perhaps 1 have gone too far, in saying that a cultivated taste for the polite arts extinguishes the pas- sions, and renders us indifferent to those objects wliich are so fondly pursued by the rest of mankind. On ftirthu)- reflection, I find, that it rather improves our sensibility for all the tender and agreeable passions; at the same time that it renders the mind incapable of the rougher and more boisterous emotions. Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes, EmoIIit mores, nee sinit esse feros. For this, I think, there may be assigned two very natural reasons. In i\\Qjirst place, nothing is so im- proving to the temper as the study of the beauties, eitiier of jioetry, elo((uence, music, or painting. They give a certain elegance of sentiment to which the rest of mankind are strangers. The emotions which they excite are soft and tender. They draw off the mind from the hurry of business and interest ; cherish re- flection ; dispose to tranquillity; and produce an agree- able melancholy, which, of all dispositions of the mind, is the best suited to love and friendship. Ill the second place, a delicacy of taste is favourable to love and friendship, by confining our choice to few people, and making ns indin'erent to the company and conversation of die greater part of men. You will sel- dom fnid that mere men of the world, whatever strong (>ense they may be endowed with, are very nice in dis- tinguishing characters, or in marking those insensil)le difT'erences and gradations, which make one man pre- feral)le to another. Any one that has competent sense DELICACY OF TASTE. 7 is strfficient for their entertainment. They talk to him of their pleasures and affairs, with the same frankness that they would to another ; and findin<^ many who- are fit to supply his place, they never feel any vacancy or want in his absence. But to make use of the allu- sion of a celebrated French * author, the judgment may be compared to a clock or watch, where the most ordi- nary machine is sufficient to tell the hours ; but the most elaborate alone can point out the minutes and se- conds, and distinguish the smallest differences of time. Qne that has well digested his knowledge both of books and men, has little enjoyment but in the compa- ny of a few select companions. He feels too sensibly, how much all the rest of mankind fall short of the no- tions which he has entertained. And, his affections being thus confined within a narrow circle, no wonder he carries them further than if they were more general and undistinguished. The gaiety and frolic of a bottle companion improves with hira into a solid friendship ; and the ardours of a youtliful appetite become an ele- gant passion. * Mons. Fontenellc, Pluralite des Mondes, Soir G, 8 ESSAY U, ESSAY II. or THE LIBERTY OF THE TRESS. Nothing is more apt to surprise a foreioner, than the extreme liberty, wliich we enjoy in this country, of communicating whatever we please to the public, and of openly censuring every measure entered into by the king or his ministers. If the administration resolve upon war, it is affirmed, that, either wilfully or igno- rantly, they mistake tlie interests of the nation ; and tliat peace, in the jircsent situation of affairs, is infi- nitely preferable. W the passion of the ministers lie towards peace, our political writers breathe nothing but war and devastation, and represent the pacific con- duct of tiie goverimient as mean and pusillanimous. As this liberty is not indulged in any other govern- ment, either republican or monarchial; in Holland and Venice, more than in France or Spahi; it may very naturally give occasion to the question, How it hap- pciis that GrcaL Brilain alone cnjoijs this peculiar pri- vilege ? '^ 'J'Ik; reason why the laws indulge us in sxich a liberty, seems to be deiivi.d fioiii oin* mixed ionn of government. » And wliLtlicT the nnliiiiilL-d cxercist of this Iil)irty Ijc advantageous or jinjiKlitial to tiic jniblic. — ilDirioNs A, (', \), N. LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. V "vvl)ich is neither wholly monarchical, nor wliolly republi- can. It will be found, it" I mistake not, a true observation in politics, that the two extremes in <:^overnment, libeily and slavery, commonly ajiproach neai'cst to each otlier ; and that, as yon depart iVoni the extremes, and mix a little of monarchy with liberty, the government becomes always the more free ; and, on the other hand, when you mix a httle of liberty with monarchy, the yoke be- comes always the more grievous and intolerable. In a government, such as that of France, which is absolute, and where law, custom, and religion concur, all of them, to make the people fully satisfied with their condition, the monarch cannot entertain any jealousij against his subjects, and therefore is apt to indulge them in great liberties both of speech and action. In a government altogether republican, such as that of Holland, where there is no magistrate so eminent as to givejealoicsi/ to the state, there is no dano-er in intrustino- the maiyistrates with large discretionary powers ; and though many ad- vantages result from such powers, in preserving peace and order, yet they lay a considerable restraint on men's actions, and make every private citizen pay a great respect to the government. Thus it seems evi- dent, that the two extremes of absolute monarchy and of a republic, approach near to each other in some ma- terial circumstances. In thcjirst^ the magistrate has no jealousy of the people ; in the second, the people have none of the magistrate : Which want of jealousy beu-ets a mutual confidence and trust in both cases, and produces a species of liberty in monarchies, and of ar- bitrary power in republics. To justify the other part of the foregoing observa- tion, that, in every government, the means are most v.ide of each otlier, and that the mixtures of monarchy 10 ESSAY II. aiul liberty render the yoke either more grievons; I must take notice of a remark in Tacitus with reijrard to the Komans uiulcr the Emperors, that they neither coukl bear total shivery nor total liberty, Ncc totam scivitulan, ncc totam libcrtatem jntti jwssunt. This re- mark a celebrated poet has translated and applied to the Eiiijlish, in his lively description of Queen Eliza- beth's policy and government. ' Et fit ainMjr son joug a I'Aiigiois indompte, Qui ne yeut ni servii-, ni vivre eii liberte. Henriade, liv. ». Accordhig to these remarks, we are to consider the Roman government nnder the Emperors as a mixture of despotism and liberty, where the despotism prevail- ed ; and the English government as a mixture of the same kind, where the liberty predominates. The con- seciucnces are conformable to the foregoing observation, and such as may be expected from those mixed forms of government, which beget a nuitual watchfulness and jealousy. The Roman emperors were, many of them, the most frightful tyrants that ever disgj-aced human nature ; and it is evident, that their cruelty was chiefly excited by their jealousy, and by their observing that all the great men of Rome bore with impatience the dominion of a famil}', which, but a little before, was nowise superior to tlieir own. On the other hand, as the republican part of the government prevails in Eng- land, though with a great mixture of monarchy, it is obliged, for its own preservation, to maintain a watch- ful,/tv/Zo?/.';// over the magistrates, to remove all discre- tionary powers, and to secure every one's life and for- tune by general and inflexible laws. No action mustl>e deemed a crime but what the law has plainly determin- ed to be such : No crime must be imputed to a man LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 1 1 but from a legal proof before liis judges ; and even these judges must be his fellow-subjects, who are obliged, by their own interest, to have a watchful eye over the encroachments and violence of the ministers. From these causes it proceeds, that there is as nuich libert}-, and even perhaps licentiousness, in Great Britain, as there were formerly slavery and tyranny in Rome. These principles account for the great liberty of the press in these kingdoms, beyond what is indulged in any other government. It is apprehended that arbi- trary power would steal in upon us, were we not care- ful to prevent its progress, and were there not an easy method of conveying the alarm from one end of the kingdom to the other. The spirit of the people must frequently be roused, in order to curb the ambition of the court; and the dread of rousing this spirit must be employed to prevent that ambition. Nothing so effec- tual to this purpose as the liberty of the press ; by which all the learning, wit, and genius of the nation, may be employed on the side of freedom, and every one be animated to its defence. As long, therefore, as the republican part of our government can maintain it- self against the monarchical, it will naturally be care- ful to keep the press open, as of importance to its own preservation. ^ 5 Since, therefore, the liberty of the press is so essential to the sup- port of O'lr mixed government, this sufficiently decides the second ques- tion, Whclhcr litis libcrlij be advantageous or prejudicial, there being no- thing of gieater importance in every state than the preservation of the ancient government, especially if it be a free one. But I would fain go a step fartlier, and assert, that such a liberty is attended with so few inconveniences, that it may be claimed as the common right of man- kind, and ought to be indulged them almost in every government ex- cept the ecclesiastical, to which, indeed, it would be fatal. We need not tbead from this liberty any such ill consecpicncci as followed from 12 ESSAY 11. It must however be allowetl, tliat the iinboundecl li- berty of the press, tliough it be dilliciilt, perhaps in> Uic Iiaraiigucs of the popular demagogues of Athens and Trihunes of Rome. A man reads a book or pamphlet alone and cooly. There is none j)rest'nt from whom he can catcli the passion by contagion. He is not hurried away by the force and energy of action. And should he be MTought up to never so seditious a humour, tliere is no violent resolu- tion presented to him by which he can immediately vent Ins passion. I'hc lil)crfy of tiie press, therefore, however <il)used, can scarce ever ex- cite pojiidar tumults or rebellion. And as to those murmurs or secret discontents it may occasion, it is l)etter they should get vent in words, that they may come to the knowledge of the magistrate before it be too late, in order to his providing a remedy against them. Mankind, it is true, have always a greater propension to believe what is said to the disadvantage of their governors than the contrary ; but this inclination is inseparable from them whether they have lil)erty or not. A Avliisj)er may fly as quick, and be as pernicious as a j)amphlet. Nay, it will be more pernicious, where men are not accustomed to think freely, or dis- tinguish betwixt trutli and falsehood. It has also been found, as tiie experience of mankind increases, that the pi'fijttt' are no such dangerous monster as they have been rejjresented, and that it is in every respect l)etter to guide them like rational creatures tlian to lead or drive tliem like brute beasts. IJefore the United Pro- vinces set tlie example, toleration was deemed incompatible with good government ; and it was thought impossible that a number of religious sects coidd live together in liarmony and peace, and have all of them an equal affection to their common country and to each other. Englatui li.xs set a like example of civil liberty ; and though this lil)erty seems to occasion some small ferment at present, it has not as yet produced any pernicious effects; and it is to be hoped that men, being every day more accustomed to the free discussion of ])ubhc affairs, will improve in their judgment of them, and be with greater difliculty seduced by every idle rumour and popular clamour. It is a \i:Ty comfortable reflection to the lovers of liberty, that this pe- culiar jirivilege of Uriluin is of a kind that cannot easily be wrested from us, and must la'-t as long as our Government remains in any de- l^ee free and independent. It is seldom that liberty of any kind is lost all at once. Slavery has so frightful an aspect to men accustomed to freedom, that it must steal in u|)on them by degrees, and must disguise nsclfin a tfaou.atid !<ha])cs in order to be received. Ijut if the liberty LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 13 possible, to propose a suitable remedy for it, is one of the evils attending those mixed fbrnis of government. of the press ever be lost, it must be lost at once. The general laws against sedition and libelling arc at present as strong as they possibly can be made. Nothing can impose a farther restraint but either the clapping an imprimatm- upon the press, or the giving very large discre- tionary powers to the court to punish whatever displeases them. But these concessions would be such a barefaced violation of liberty, that they will probably be tlie last efforts of a despotic government. We may conclude that tlie liberty of Britain is gone for ever when these at- tempts shall succeed. — Editions A, C, D, N. 1 i ESSAY HI. ESSAY III. THAT POLITICS MAY BE REDUCED TO A SCIENCE. It is a question with several, wliethcr there be any essential difference between one foim of government and another ? and, whether every form may not be- come cfood or bad, accordincj as it is well or ill admi- nistered ? " Were it once admitted, that all govern- ments arc alike, and that the only difference consists in the character and conduct of the governors, most poli- tical disputes would be at an end, and all Zeal for one constitution above another must be esteemed mere bi- gotry and folly. But, though a friend to moderation, I cannot forbear condemning this sentiment, and should be sorry to think, that human affairs admit of no great- er stability, than what they receive from the casual humours and characters of particular men. It is true, those who maintain that the goodness of all government consists in the goodness of the admi- nistration, may cite many particular instances in histo- ry, where the very same government, in different hands, has varied suddenly into the two opposite extremes of good and bad. Compare the French government un- ■* For forms of government let fools contest, Whatc'er is best administered is best. Essay on Man, Book 3. POLITICS A SCIENCE. 15 tier Hefiry III. and uiuler Henry IV. Oppression, le- vity, artifice on the part of the rulers ; faction, sedition, treachery, rebellion, disloyalty on the part of the sub- jects : These compose the character of the former mi- serable era. But when the patriot and heroic prince, wlio succeeded, was once firmly seated on the throne, the government, the people, every thing, seemed to be totally changed ; and ail from the difference of the temper and conduct of these two sovereigns. * Instan- ces of this kind may be multiplied, almost without num- ber, from ancient as well as modern history, foreign as well as domestic. But here it may be proper to make a distinction. All absolute governments must very much depend on the administration ; and this is one of the great incon- veniences attending that form of government. But a republican and free government would be an obvious absurdity, if the particular checks and controls, provid- ed by the constitution, haxl really no influence, and made it not the interest, even of bad men, to act for the pub- lic good. Such is the intention of these forms of go- vernment, and such is their real effect, vv'here they are wisely constituted : As, on the other hand, they are the source of all disorder, and of the blackest crimes, where cither skill or honesty lias been wanting in their ori- ginal frame and institution. So great is the force of laws, and of particular forms of government, and so little dependence have they on the humours and tempers of men, that consequences almost as general and certain may sometimes be deduc- * An equal difference of a contiai^ kind may be found in comparing the reigns of Elizabeth and Jdincs, at least with regard to foreign af- fairs.-—Editions A, C, D, N. 16 ESSAY II T. C'.\ iVom tlicm, .t^ nny -wliicli the mathematical sciences afionl us. The constitution of the Roman republic gave the whole legislative power to the people, without allowing a negative voice either to the nobility or consuls. This unbounded power tliey possessed in a collective, not in a representative body. The consequences were : When the people, by success and conquest, had become very numerous, and liad spread themselves to a great dis- tance from the capital, the city tribes, though the most contemptible, carried almost every vote : They were, tlierefore, most cajoled by every one that affected po- pularity : They were supported in idleness by the general distribution of corn, and by particular bribes, which they received from almost every candidate: Cy this means, they became every day more licentious, and the Campus Martins was a perpetual scene of tumult and sedition : Armed slaves were introduced amons these rascally citizens, ^o that the whole government fell into anarchy ; and the greatest happiness which the Romans coukl look for, was the despotic power of the Caesars. Such are the effects of democracy without a representative. A Nobility may possess the whole, or any part of the legislative power of a state, in two different ways. Either every nobleman shares the power as a part of the whole bodv? or the whole body enjoys the power as composed of ))arts, which have each a distinct power and authority. Tlie Venetian aristocracy is an instance of the first kind of government; the Polish, of (lie second. In the Venetian government the whole bodv of nobility possesses the whole power, and no noble- man has any authorily which he receives not from the wholi'. In ilii' i'olisli government every nobleman, by POLITICS A SCIENCE. 1*7 means of his fiefs, has a distinct hereditary authority over his vassals, and the whole body has no authority but what it receives from the concurrence of its parts. The diiferent operations and tendencies of these two species of government might be made apparent even a priori. A Venetian nobility is preferable to a Polish, let the humours and education of men be ever so much varied. A nobility, who possess their power in com- mon, will preserve peace and order, both among them- selves, and their subjects ; and no member can have au- thority enough to control the laws for a moment. The nobles will preserve their authority over the people, but without any grievous tyranny, or any breach of private property ; because such a tyrannical government pro- motes not the interests of the whole body, however it may that of some individuals. There will be a distinc- tion of rank between the nobility and people, but this will be the only distinction in the state. Tlie whole nobility will form one body, and the whole people an- other, without any of those private feuds and animosi- ties, which spread ruin and desolation every where. It is easy to see the disadvantages of a Polish nobility in every one of these particulars. It is possible so to constitute a free government, as that a single person, call him a doge, prince, or king, shall possess a lai'ge share of power, and shall form a proper balance or counterjioise to the other parts of the legislature. This chief magistrate may be either elec- tive or hereditarjj ,- and though the former institution may, to a superficial view, appear the most advantage- ous ; yet a more accurate inspection will discover in it greater inconveniences than in the latter, and such as are founded on causes and principles eternal and im- mutable. The filling of the throne, in such a govern- VOL. III. B 18 ESSAY III. nicnt, is a point of too great and too general interest, not to divide the whole people into factions : Wlience a civil war, the greatest of ills, may be apprehended, almost with certainty, upon every vacancy. The prince elected must be either a Foreigner or a Native : The former will be ignorant of the people whom he is to govern ; suspicious of his new subjects, and suspected by them ; giving his confidence entirely to strangers, who will have no other care but of enriching themselves in the (juickest manner, while their master's favour and authority are able to support them. A native will carry into the throne all his private animosities and friend- ships, and will never be viewed in his elevation without exciting the sentiment of envy in those who formerly considered him as their equal. Not to mention that a crown is too hi^h a reward ever to be given to merit alone, and will always induce the candidates to employ force, or money, or intrigue, to procure the votes of the electors : So that such an election will give no better chance for superior merit in the prince, than if the state had trusted to birth alone for determining the sovereign. It may, therefore, be pronounced as an universal ax- iom in })olitics, T/iat an hereditary prince, a nohility -iicithout vassalsy and a people voting hy their representa- tives, farm the best monarchy, aiustooracy andD'EUO- CUACY. But in order to prove more fully, that politics admit of general truths, which are invariable by the humour or education either of subject or sovereign, it may not be amiss to observe some other princi[)les of this science, which may seem to deserve that character. It may easily be observed, that though free govern- ments have l)een commonly the most happy for those who j)artake of tiieir freedom ; yet are they the most ruinous and opi)res.sive to their provinces : And this ob- POLITICS A SCIENCE. 19 servation may, I believe, be fixed as a maxim of the kiiul we are here speakin<r of. Wlien a monarch extends his dominions by conquest, he soon learns to consider his old and his new subjects as on the same footing; be- cause, in reality, all his subjects are to him the same, except the few friends and favourites with whom he is personally acquainted. He does not, therefore, make any distinction between them in his general laws ; and, at the same time, is careful to prevent all jmrticular acts of oppression on the one as well as tlie other. But a free state necessarily makes a great distinction, and must always do so, till men learn to love their neigh- bours as well as themselves. The conquerors, in such a government, are all legislators, and will be sure to contrive matters, by restrictions on trade, and by taxes, so as to draw some private, as well as public advantage from their conquests. Provincial governors have also a better chance, in a republic, to escape with their plunder, by means of bribery or intrigue ; and their fellow-citizens, who find their own state to be enrich- ed by the spoils of the subject provinces, will be the more inclined to tolerate such abuses. Not to men- tion, that it is a necessary precaution in a free state to change the governors frequently ; which obliges these temporary tyrants to be more expeditious and rapa- cious, that they may accumulate sufficient wealth be- fore they give place to their successors. What cruel tyrants were the Romans over the world during the time of their commonwealth ! It is true, they had laws to prevent oppression in their provincial magis- trates ; but Cicero informs us, that the Romans could not better consult the interests of the provinces than by repealing these very laws. For, in that case, says he, our magistrates, having entire impunity, would b2 20 ESSAY III. plunder no more than would satisfy their own rapa- ciousness ; whereas, at present, they must also satisfy that of their judges, and of all the great men in Rome, of whose protection they stand in need. Who can read of the cruelties and oppressions of Verrcs without horror and astonishment? And who is not touched Avith indignation to hear, that, after Cicero had ex- hausted on that abandoned criminal all the thunders of his eloquence, and had prevailed so far as to get him condemned to the utmost extent of the laws, yet that cruel tyrant lived peaceably to old age, in opu- lence and ease, and, thirty years afterwards, was put into the proscription by Mark Antony, on account of his exorbitant wealth, wliere he fell with Cicero him- self, and all the most virtuous men of Rome ? After the dissolution of the commonwealth, the Roman yoke became easier upon the provinces, as Tacitus informs us ; "" and it may be observed, that many of the worst emperors, Domitian, " for instance, were careful to pre- vent all oppression on the provinces. In Tiberius's " time, Gaul was esteemed richer than Italy itself: Nor do 1 find, during the whole time of the Roman monar- chy, that the empire became less rich or populous in any of its provinces ; though indeed its valour and mi- litary discipline were always upon the decline. The oppression and tyranny of the Carthaginians over their subject states in Africa went so far, as we learn from Poiybius, " that, not content with exacting the half of all the produce of the land, which of itself was a very " Aim. lib. i. cap. 2. ^ Suet, in vita Domit. *^ Egrcgium rt-sumendae libertati tcmpus, si ipsi florentcs, quam inops Italia, quam imhcllis \irbana plebs, niliil validum in cxercitibus, nisi quoil txtcrnuni cogitarcnU — Tacit. Ann. lilj. iii. •" Lib. i. cap. I'd. POLITICS A SCIENCE. 21 high rent, they also loaded lliem with many other taxes. If we pass from ancient to modern times, we shall still find the observation to hold. The provinces of absolute monarchies are always better treated than those of free states. Compare the Pah conquis of France with Ireland, and you will be convinced of this truth ; though this latter kingdom, being in a good measure peopled from England, possesses so many rights and privileges as should naturally make it chal- lenge better treatment than that of a conquered pro- vince. Corsica is also an obvious instance to the same purpose. There is an observation of Machiavel, with regard to the conquests of Alexander the Great, which, I think, may be regarded as one of those eternal politi- cal truths, which no time nor accidents can vary. It may seem strange, says that politician, that such sudden conquests, as those of Alexander, should be possessed so peaceably by his successors, and that the Persians, during all the confusions and civil wars among the Greeks, never made the smallest effort towards the re- covery of their former independent government. To satisfy us concerning the cause of this remarkable event, we may consider, that a monarch may govern his sub- jects in two different ways. He may either follow tlie maxims of the Eastern princes, and stretch his authori- ty so far as to leave no distinction of rank among his subjects, but what proceeds immediately from himself; no advantages of birth ; no hereditary honours and pos- sessions ; and, in a word, no credit among the people, except from his commission alone. Or a monarch may exert his power after a milder manner, like other Eu- ropean princes ; and leave other sources of honour, be- side his smile and favour : Birth, titles, possessions. 22 ESSAY in. valour, integrity, knowledge, or great and fortunate achievements. In the former species of government, after a conquest, it is impossible ever to shake off the yoke ; since no one possesses, among the people, so much personal credit and authority as to begin such an enterprise : \Miereas, in the latter, the least misfor- tune, or discord among the victors, will encourage the vancjuished to take arms, who have leaders ready to prompt and conduct them in every undertaking. " * I have taken it for granted, according to the supposition of Machia- vcl, that the ancient Persians had no nobility ; thougli there is reason to suspect, that the F"lorentine sccretarj-, who seems to have been better acquainted with tlie Iloman tlian the Greek authors, was mistaken in tliis particular. The more ancient Persians, whose manners are describ- ed by Xenophon, were a free people, and had nobility. Their ohoti/jloi were prese^^•ed even after the extending cf their conquests and the con- sequent change of their government. Arrian mentions them in Darius's time, De cxpi'd. uilci'. lib. ii. Historians also speak often of the per- sons in command as men of family. Tygranes, who was general of the Medes under Xerxes, was of the race of Achmrenes, Ileriod. lib. vii. cap. 62. Artachxus, wlio directed the cutting of the canal about Mount Athos, was of the same family. Id. cap. 117. Megabyzus was one of the seven eminent Persians who conspired against the Magi. His son, Zopyrus, was in tlie hij^iest command under Darius, and delivered Ba- bylon to Iiim. His grandson, IVIcgabyzus, commanded the army de- feated at Marathon. His great-grandson, Zopyrus, was also eminent, and was banished Persia. Herod. HI), iii. Thuc. lib. i. Rosaces, who commanded an army in Egypt under Artaxerxes, was also dcKcended from one of the seven conspirators, Diod. Sic. lib. xvi. Agcsilaus, in Xenophon. Hist. Cra'c. lilj, iv. being desirous of making a marriage betwixt king Cotys his ally, and the daughter of Spitliridates, a Persian of rank, «ho had deserted to Iiim, first asks Cotys what family Spi- thridai.es is of. One of the most considerable in Persia, says Cotys. Aria^us, when oflered the sovereignty by Clearchus and the ten thousand Greeks, refused it as of too low a rank, and said, that so many emi- nent Persians would never endure his rule. Id. dc ripfd, Mb. ii. Some of the families (Ie<-cende(l from the seven Persians above mentioned re- mained during A lexander's successors ; and Mithridates, in Antiochus's time. Is said l>y Pol)bius to be descended from one of them, lib. v. cap. POTJTTCS a SCIKNCE. SS Such is llie reasoiiiiii^ of Machiavel, vvliicli seems solid and conclusive; though I wish he had not mixed falsehood with truth, in asserting that monarchies, go- verned according to Eastern policy, though more easily kept when once subdued, yet are the most difficult to subdue ; since they cannot contain any powerful sub- ject, whose discontent and faction may facilitate the en- terprises of an enemy. For, besides, that such a ty- rannical government enervates the courage of men, and venders them indifferent towards the fortunes of their sovereign ; besides this, I say, we find by experience, that even the temporary and delegated authority of the generals and magistrates, being always, in such govern- ments, as absolute within its sphere as that of the prince himself, is able, with barbarians accustomed to a blind submission, to produce the most dangerous and fatal revolutions. So that in every respect, a gentle govern- ment is preferable, and gives the greatest security to the sovereign as well as to the subject. Legislators, therefore, ought not to trust the future government of a state entirely to chance, but ought to provide a system of laws to regulate the administration of public affairs to the latest posterity. Effects will al- 43. Artabazus was esteemed as Arrian says, tv toi( Tr^aroii JlecTav, lib. iii. And when Alexander married in one day 80 of his captains to Persian women, his intention plainly was to ally the Macedonians with the most eminent Persian families. Id. lib. vii. Diodorus Siculussays, they were of the most noble birth in Persia, lib. xvii. The government of Persia was despotic, and conducted in many respects after the Eastern manner, but was not carried so far as to extirpate all nobility, and con- found all ranks and orders. It left men who were still great, by them- selves and their family, independent of their office and commission. And the reason why the Macedonians kept so easily dominion over them, was owing to other causes easy to be found in the historians ; though it must be owned that Machiavel's reasoning is, in itself, just, hoM ever doubtful its application to the present case. 3 24' KSSAY III. ways correspond to causes ; and wise regulations, in any comnionwealtli, are the most valuable legacy that can be left to future ages. In the smallest court or office, the stated forms and methods by which busi- ness must be conducted, are found to be a consider- able check on the natural depravity of mankind. Why should not the case be the same in public affairs? Can we ascribe the stability and wisdom of the Vene- tian government, through so many ages, to any thing but the form of government? And is it not easy to point cut those defects in the original constitution, which produced the tumultuous governments of Athens and Rome, and ended at last in the ruin of these two famous republics? And so little dependence has this affair on the humours and education of particular men, that one part of the same republic may be wisely conducted, and another weakly, by the very same men, merely on account of the differences of the forms and institutions by which these parts are regulated. His- torians inform us that this was actually the case with C'cnoa. For wiiile the state was always full of sedition, and tun)ult, and disordei", the bank of St George, v.hich liad become a considerable part of the people, was conducted, for several ages, with the utmost in- tegrity and wisdom. * The ages of greatest public spirit are not always most eminent for private virtue. Good laws may beget ' E«?iTipio vcratncnte ra»o, et da' filosofi in lante loro immaginate e vedutc Ilepulibliilic mai iion trovato, vcdere dentro ad un medesiwo cer- cliio, fra niudesinii cittuilini, la liberta e la tirannide, la vita civile e la ccjiTOtIa, la giustizia e la licenza ; pcrche quelle ordine solo manticne r|uella citfa piena di costumi anticlii e venerabili. E s'egli avvenissc, die to) tfinpo in ogni niodo avverra, die San Giorgio tutta quella ritfi occupa<-se, sarebbe f|i;dla una Kepubblica piu che la Vcneziana me- morabile.— IXlle islorie Fiorenline, lib. viii. 4.'i7. — Florent. 1782. POLITICS A SCIENCE. 25 order and moderation in the government, where the manners and cnstoms have instilled little humanity or justice into the tempers of men. The most illustrious period of the Roman history, considered in a political view, is that between the beginning of the first and end of the last Punic war ; the due balance between the nobility and people being then fixed by the con- tests of the tribunes, and not being yet lost by the extent of conquests. Yet at this very time, the horrid practice of poisoning was so common, that, during part of the season, a Prcutor punished capitally for this crime above three thousand ^ persons in a part of Italy ; and found informations of this nature still mul- tiplying upon him. There is a similar, or rather a worse instance, '^ in the more early times of the com- monwealth ; so depraved in private life were that people, whom in their histories we so much admire. I doubt not but they were really more virtuous during the time of the two Triumvirates ; when they were tearing their common country to pieces, and spreading slaughter and desolation over the face of the earth, merely for the choice of tyrants. " Here, then, is a sufficient inducement to maintain, with the utmost zeal, in every free state, those forms and institutions by which liberty is secured, the public good consulted, and the avarice or ambition of parti- cular men restrained and punished. Nothing does more honour to human nature, than to see it susceptible of so noble a passion ; as nothing can be a greater in- * T. Livii, lib. xl. cap. 43. ^ T. Livii, lib. viii. cap. 18. ' L'Aigle centre I'Aigle, Remains contrc Romains, Pombstans sculement pour le choix de tyrans. CoRNEILLEv 26 ESSAY III. (lication of meanness of heart in any man than to see him ck'slitute of it. A man who loves only himself, without regard to friendship and desert, merits the se- verest blame ; and a man, who is only susceptible of friendship, without public spirit, or a regard to the connnunity, is deficient in the most material part of virtue. l>ut this is a subject which needs not be longer in- sisted on at present. There are enow of zealots on both sides, who kindle up the passions of their parti- sans, and, under pretence of public good, pursue the interests and ends of their particular faction. For my part, I shall always be more fond of promoting moder- ation than zeal ; though perhaps the surest way of pro- ducing moderation in every party is to increase our zeal for the public. Let us therefore try, if it be possible, from the foregoing doctrine, to draw a lesson of moder- ation with regard to the parties into which our country is at present divided ; at the same time, that we allow not this moderation to abate the industry and passion, with which every individual is bound to pursue the good of his country. Those who either attack or defend a minister in such a government as ours, where the utmost liberty is allowed, always carry matters to an extreme, and ex- aggerate his merit or demerit with regard to the pub- lic. His enemies are sure to charge him with the greatest enormities, both in domestic and foreign ma- nagement ; and there is no meanness or crime, of which, ill their account, he is not cap;ible. Unneces- sary wars, scandalous treaties, profusion of public trea- sure, op[)ressive taxes, every kind of mal-administra- tion is ascribed to iilni. To aggravate the ciiarge, his |K'rnicioas coiuluct, it is said, will extend its baneful POLITICS A SCIENCE. 27 influence even to posterity, by undermining the best constitution in the workl, and disordering that wise system of laws, institutions and customs, by which our ancestors, during so many centuries, liave been so hap- pily governed. He is not only a wicked minister in himself, but has removed every security provided a- jjainst wicked ministers for the future. On the other hand, the partisans of the minister make his panegyric run as high as the accusation a- gainst him, and celebrate his wise, steady, and mode- rate conduct in every part of his administration. The honour and interest of the nation supported abroad, public credit maintained at home, persecution restrain- ed, faction subdued ; the merit of all these blessings is ascribed solely to the minister. At the same time, he crowns all his other merits by a religious care of the best constitution in the world, which he has preserved in all its parts, and has transmitted entire, to be the happiness and security of the latest posterity. When this accusation and panegyric are received by the partisans of each party, no wonder they beget an extraordinary ferment on both sides, and fill the nation with violent animosities. But I would fain persuade these party zealots, that there is a flat contradiction both in the accusation and panegyric, and that it were impossible for either of them to run so high, were it not for this contradiction. If our constitution be real- ly that nohle fabric^ the jiride of Britain^ the envy of our neighbours, raised bij the labour of so many centtiries, re- paired at the expense of so many millions, and cemented by such a profusion of blood ; I say, if our constitution does in any degree deserve these eulogies, it would ' Disstrtation on Parties, Letter X. 28 ESSAY 11 F. never have suileretl a wicked and weak minister to go- vern triunipluuitly for a course of twenty years, when ojiposed by the greatest geniuses in the nation, who ex- ercised the utmost liberty of tongue and pen, in parlia- ment, and in their frequent appeals to the people. But, if the minister be wicked and weak, to the degree so strenuously insisted on, the constitution must be faulty in its original principles, and he cannot consist- ently be charged with undermining the best form of government in the world. A constitution is only so far good, as it provides a remedy against mal-admini- stration ; and if the British, when in its greatest vigour, and repaired by two such remarkable events as the Re- volution and Accession, by which our ancient royal fa- mily was sacrificed to it ; if our constitution, I say, with so great advantages, does not, in fact, provide any such remedy, we arc rather beholden to any minister who undermines it, and affords us an opportunity of erecting a better in its place. I would employ the same topics to moderate the zeal of those who defend the minister. Is our constitution so excellent ? Then a change of ministry can be no such dreadful event; since it is essential to such a con- stitution, in every ministry, both to preserve itself from violation, and to prevent all enormities in the adminis- tration. Is our constitution very bad F Then so ex- traordinary a jealousy and apprehension, on account of changes, is ill placed ; and a man should no more be anxious in this case, than a husband, who had married a woman from the stews, should be v/atchful to prevent her infidelity. Public affairs, in such a government, must necessarily go to confusion, by whatever hands they are conducted ; and the zeal of patriots is in that case much les» requisite than the patience and subniis- POLITICS A SCIENCE. ^*^ sion o^ philosophers. The virtue and good intention of Cato and Brutus are highly laudable; but to what purpose did their zeal serve ? Only to hasten the fatal period of the Roman government, and render its con- vulsions and dying agonies more violent and painful. I would not be understood to mean, that public af- fairs deserve no care and attention at all. Would men be moderate and consistent, their claims might be ad- mitted ; at least might be examined. The country par li) might still assert, that our constitution, though excel- lent, will admit of mal-administratiou to a certain de- «»ree : and therefore, if the minister be bad, it is pro- per to oppose him with a suitable degree of zeal. And, on the other hand, the court party may be allowed, up- on the supposition that the minister were good, to de- fend, and with some zeal too, his administration. I would only persuade men not to contend, as if they were fighting pro aris etfocis, and change a good con- stitution into a bad one, by the violence of their fac- tions. I have not here considered any thing that is person- al in the present controversy. In the best civil con- stitution, where every man is restrained by the most ri<'-id laws, it is easy to discover either the good or bad intentions of a minister, and to judge whether his per- sonal character deserve love or hatred. But such :juestions are of little importance to the public, and lay those, who employ their pens upon them, under a just suspicion either of malevolence or of flattery. ^ ( 5 What our author s opinion ivas of the famous minister here pointed at, may be learned from that Essay, printed in the former edition, under the title of " A Character of Sir Robert Walpole. " It was as follows ; — There never was a man whose actions and character have been more earnestly and openly canvassed than those of the present minister, who, having governed a learned and free nation for io long a time, «m.d?t 80r ESSAY 111. sucl) mighty opposition, may make a large li!)rary of whit has been wrote for and against him, and is the subject of above half the paper that has been blotted in the nation within these twenty years. I wish, for the honour of our country, that any one character of him had been drawn with such judgment and impavtiulittj as to have some credit with posterity, and to show that our liberty has, once at least, been employed to good purpose. I am only afraid of failing in the former quality of judgment : But if it should be so, it is but one puge more thrown away, after an liundred thousand upon the same subject, that have perished and become useless. In the mean time, I shall flatter myself with the pleasing imagination, that the following character will be adopted by fu- ture historians. Sir RobtTt Walpole, Prime Minister of Great Britain, is a man of ability, not a genius ; good natured, not virtuous; constant, not mag- nanimous ; moderate, not equitable. * His virtues, in some instances, are free from the allay of those vices which usually accompany such virtues : He is a generous friend, without being a bitter enemy. His vices, in other instances, are not compensated by those virtues which are pearly allied to them : His want of enterprise is not attended with fru- gality. The private character of tiie man is better than the public : His virtues more than his vices : His fortune greater than his fame. With many good qualities, he has incurred the public iiatred : With good ca- pacity, lie has not escaped ridicule. He would have been esteemed more H orthy of his high station, had he never possessed it ; and is better qua- lified for the second than for the first place in any government : His mi- nistry has been more advantageous to his family than to the pul)lic, bet- ter for this age than for posterity ; and more pernicious by bad prece- dents than by real grievances. During his time trade has flourished, li- berty declined, and learning gone to ruin. As I am a man, I love him ; as I am a scholar, I hate him ; as I am a Briton, I calmy wish his fall. And were I a member of either House, I would give my vote for re- moving him from St James's; but should be glad to see him retire to U u''hlon- Hall, to pass the remainder of his days in ease and pleasure. The author is pleased to find, tliat after animosities are laid, and ca- Inmnrj has ceased, the whole nation almost have returned to the same mo- derate ientimcnls with regard to this ureal man ; if they arc not rather become more favourable to him, by a very natural transition, from one ex- treme to another. The author would not ojfjiose these humane sentiments towards the dead ; thoui-h he cannot forbear observing, that the not payin<i more of our public debts was, as hinted in this character, a great, and the only f^reai, error in that long administration. — Note in Editions D and N, and published as a separate Essay in Edition 13. • Moderate in <''c exercise of power, not equitable in cngrosbing ili rniNCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 31 ESSAY IV. OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. Nothing appears more surprising to those who consider human affairs with a philosophical eye, than the easiness with which the many are governed by the few ; and the implicit submission, with which men re- sign their own sentiments and passions to those of their rulers. When we inquire by what means this wonder is effected, we shall find, that, as Force is always on the side of the governed, the governors have nothing to support them but opinion. It is, therefore, on opinion only that government is founded ; and this maxim extends to the most despotic and most military governments, as well as to the most free and most popular. The soldan of Egypt, or the emperor of Rome, might drive his harmless subjects, like brute beasts, against their sentiments and inclination. But he must, at least, have led his mamalukes or jn-cctoriau hands, like men, by their opinion. Opinion is of two kinds, to wit, opinion of interest, and opinion of right. By opinion of interest, I chief- ly understand the sense of the general advantage which is reaped from government ; together with the persua- sion, that the particular government which is establish- ed is equally advantageous with any other that could 32 ESSAY IV. easily be settled. When this opinion prevails among the generality of a state, or among those who have the force in their hands, it gives great security to any go- vernment. Right is of two kinds ; right to Power, and right to Property. What j)revalence opinion of the first kind has over mankind, may easily be understood, by ob- serving the attachment which all nations have to their ancient government, and even to those names wliich have had the sanction of anti(|uity. Antiquity always begets the opinion of right ; and whatever disadvanta- geous sentiments we may entertain of mankind, they are always found to be prodigal both of blood and treasure in the maintenance of public justice. " There is, indeed, no particular in which, at first sight, there may ajipear a greater contradiction in the frame of the human mind than the present. When men act in a faction, they are apt, without shame or remorse, to neglect all the ties of honour and morality, in order to serve their party ; and yet, when a faction is formed upon a point of right or principle, there is no occasion where men discover a greater obstinacy, and a more determined sense of justice and equity. The same so- cial disposition of mankind is the cause of these con- tradictory appearances. It is sufficiently understood, that the opinion of right to property is of moment in all matters of government. A noted author has made property the foundation of all government; and most of our political writers seem inclined to follow him in that particular. This is car- c Tlii" pnssioTi we may (lenomiiiate fnthusiasm, or wo may give it what appellation wu please ; hut a politician who should overlook its in- fluence on human affairs, would prove himself to have hut a very limit- ed understanding Editions, A, C, D, N. PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 33 rying the matter too far ; but still it must be owned, that the opinion of right to property has a great influ- ence in this subject. Upon these three opinions, therefore, of public in- terest) of right to poisoer^ and of right to 'property^ are all governments founded, and all authority of the few over the many. There are indeed other principles which add force to these, and determine, limit, or alter their operation ; such as sclf-intere&t,^ foar, and affec- tion. But still we may assert, that these other princi- ples can have no influence alone, but suppose the an- tecedent influence of those opinions above mentioned. They are, therefore, to be esteemed the secondary, not the original, principles of government. For, Jirst, as to self-inter est.^ by which I mean the expectation of particular rewards, distinct from the general protection which we receive from government, it is evident that the magistrate's authority must be an- tecedently established, at least be hoped for, in order to produce this expectation. The prospect of reward may augment his authority with regard to some parti- cular persons, but can never give birth to it, with re- gard to the public. Men naturally look for the great- est favours from their friends and acquaintance ; and therefore, the hopes of any considerable number of the state would never centre in any particular set of men, if these men had no other title to magistracy, and had no separate influence over the opinions of mankind. The same observation may be extended to the other two principles oi fear and affection. No man would have any reason to fear the fury of a tyrant, if he had no authority over any but from fear ; since, as a single man, his bodily force can reach but a small way, and VOL. III. c 34 ESSAY IV. ■ all the farther power he possesses must be founded ei- ther on our own opinion, or on the presumed opinion of others. And thouoh affection to wisdom and virtue in a sove)-eign extends very far, and has great influ- ence, )'et he must antecedently be supposed invested with a public character, otherwise the public esteem will serve him in no stead, nor will his virtue have any influence beyond a narrow sphere. A government may endure for several ages, though tlie balance of power and the balance of property do not coincide. This chiefly happens where any rank or order of the state has acquired a large share in the property ; but, from the original constitution of the go- vernment, has no share in the power. Under what pretence would any individual of that order assume authority in public affairs? As men are commonly much attached to their ancient government, it is not to be expected, that the public would ever favour such usurpations. But where the original constitution al- lows any share of power, though small, to an order of men who possess a large share of property, it is easy for them gradually to stretch their authority, and bring the balance of power to coincide with that of property. This has been the case with the House of Commons in England. Most writers that have treated of the British govern- ment, have supposed, that, as the Lower House repre- sents all the Commons of Great 13ritain, its weight in the scale is proportioned to the property and power of all whom it represents. But this principle must not be received as absolutely true. Tor though the people are apt to attach themselves more to the House of Commons than to any other member of the constitu- PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 35 tion, that House being cliosen by them as theif repre*- sentatives, and as the public guardians of their Hberty : yet are there instances where the House, even when in opposition to the crown, has not been followed by the people, as we may particularly observe of the Torij House of Commons in the reio-n of Kinff William. Were the members obliged to receive instructions from their constituents, like the Dutch deputies, this w^ould entirely alter the case ; and if such immense power and riches, as those of all the Commons of Great Britain, were brought into the scale, it is not easy to conceive, that the crown could either influence that multitude of people, or withstand that balance of property. It is true, the crown has great influence over the collective body in the elections of members ; but were this influ- ence, which at present is only exerted once in seven years, to be employed in bringing over the people to every vote, it would soon be wasted, and no skill, po- pularity or revenue, could support it. I must, there- fore, be of opinion, that an alteration in this particular would introduce a total alteration in our government, and would soon reduce it to a pure republic ; and, per- haps, to a republic of no inconvenient form. For though the people, collected in a body like the Roman tribes, be quite unfit for government, yet, when dis- persed in small bodies, they are more susceptible both of reason and order ; the force of popular currents and tides is in a great measure broken ; and the public in- terest may be pursued with some method and constan- cy. But it is needless to reason any farther concern- ing a form of government which is never likely to have place in Great Britain, and which seems not to be the aim of any party amongst us. Let us cherish andim- prove our ancient government as much as possible, c2 S6 ESSAY IV. without enconraging a passion for such dangerous no- velties. "^ ' I shall conclude tliis subject with observing, that the present poli- tical controversy with regard to instructions, is a very frivolous one, and can never be brought to any decision, as it is managed by both parties. The country partj- do not protend that a member is absolutely bound to follow instructions as an ambassador or general is confined by his orders, and that his vote is not to be received in the House but so far as it is conformable to tliem. The court party, again, do not pretend that the sentiments of the people ought to have no weight with every member ; much less that he ought to despise the sentiments of those whom he re- presents, and with whom he is more particularly connected. And if their sentiments be of weight, why ought tliey not to express these sen- timents ? Tlie question then is only concerning the degrees of weight which ought to be placed on instructions. But such is the nature of language, that it is impossible for it to express distinctly these different degrees ; and if men will carry on a controversy on this head, it may well happen that tliey differ in the language, and yet agree in their senti- ments ; or differ in their sentiments, and yet agree in their language. Besides, how is it possible to fix these degrees, considering the variety of aflUirs that come before the House, and the variety of places which members represent? Ought the instructions of Totness to have the same weight as those of London ? or instructions with regard to the Convention which respected foreign politics, to have the same weight as those witli regard to the Excise, which respected only our domestic af- airs ?— EniTioys A, C, D. OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 37 ESSAY V. « OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. Man, born in a family, is compelled to maintain so- ciety from necessity, from natural inclination, and from habit. The same creature, in his farther progress, is engaged to establish political society, in order to admi- nister justice, without which there can be no peace a- mong them, nor safety, nor mutual intercourse. We are, therefore, to look upon all the vast apparatus of our government, as having ultimately no other object or purpose but the distribution of justice, or, in other words, the support of the twelve judges. Kings and parliaments, fleets and armies, officers of the court an d revenue, ambassadors, ministers and privy-counsellors, are all subordinate in their end to this part of admini- stration. Even the clergy, as their duty leads them to mculcate morality, may justly be thought, so far as re- gards this world, to have no other useful object of their institution. All men are sensible of the necessity of justice to maintain peace and order ; and all men are sensible of the necessity of peace and order for the maintenance of society. Yet, notwithstanding this strong and ob- * This Essay is not published in any of the Editions prior to Edi- tion O. 38 ESSAY V. vious necessity, such is the IViiilty or perverseness of our nature ! it is ini^jossible to keep men fiiithlully and unerrin<5ly in the paths of justice. Some extraordi- nary circumstances may happen, in which a man finds his interests to be more promoted by fraud or rapine, than hurt by the breach which liis injustice makes in tlie social vuiion. But much more frequently he is se- duced from his great and important, but distant inte- rests, by the allurement of present, though often very frivolous temptations. This great weakness is incur- able in human nature. Men must, therefore, endeavour to palliate what they cannot cure. They must institute some persons under the appellation of magistrates, whose peculiar ofiice it is to point out the decrees of equitj^, to punish trans^- gressors, to correct fraud and violence, and to oblige men, however reluctant, to consult their own real and permanent interests. In a word, obedience is a new duty which must be invented to support that of justice, and the ties of ecjuity must be corroborated by those of allegiance. But still, viewing matters in an abstract light, it may be thought that nothing is gained by this alliance, and that the factitious duty of obedience, from its very na- ture, lays as feeble a hold of the human mind, as the primitive and natural duty of justice. Peculiar inte- rests and present temptations may overcome the one as well as the other. They are equally exposed to the same inconvenience ; and the man who is inclined to be a bad neighbour, must be led by the same motives, well or ill understood, to be a bad citizen or subject. Not to mention, that the magistrate himself may often be negligent, or partial, or unjust in his administration. ]:^xj)eriei!te, however, proves that there is a great difU OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVEHNMENT. 39 ference between the cases. Order in society, we find, is much better maintained by means of government ; and our duty to the magistrate is more strictly guarded by the principles of human nature, than our duty to our fellow-citizens. The love of dominion is so strong in the breast of man, that many not only submit to, but court all the dangers, and fatigues, and cares of govern- ment ; and men, once raised to that station, though oft- en led astray by private passions, find, in ordinary cases, a visible interest in the impartial administration of jus- tice. The persons who first attain this distinction, by the consent, tacit or express, of the people, must be endowed with superior personal qualities of valour, force, integrity, or prudence, which command respect and confidence ; and, after government is established, a regard to birth, rank, and station, has a mighty in- fluence over men, and enforces the decrees of the ma- gistrate. The prince or leader exclaims against every disorder which disturbs his society. He summons all his partisans and all men of probity to aid him in cor- recting and redressing it ; and he is readily followed by all indifferent persons in the execution of his ofiice. He soon acquires the power of rewarding these ser- vices; and in the progress of society, he establishes subordinate ministers, and often a military force, who find an immediate and a visible interest in supporting his authority. Habit soon consolidates what other prin- ciples of human nature had imperfectly founded ; and men, once accustomed to obedience, never think of de- parting from that path, in which they and their ances- tors have constantly trod, and to which they are con- fined by so many urgent and visible motives. But though this progress of human affairs may ap- pear certain and inevitiible, and though the support 40 ESSAY V. »; which allegiance brings to justice be founded on obvi- ous principles of human nature, it cannot be expected that men should beforehand be able to discover them, or foresee their operation. Government commences more casually and moj-e imperfectly. It is probable, that the first ascendant of one man over multitudes begun during a state of war ; where the superiority of courage and of genius discovers itself most visibly, where unanimity and concert are most requisite, and where the pernicious effects of disorder are most sen- sibly felt. The long continuance of that state, an inci- dent common among savage tribes, inured the people to submission ; and if the chieftain possessed as much equity as prudence and valour, he became, even during peace, the arbiter of all differences, and could gradu- ally, by a mixture of force and consent, establish his authority. The benefit sensibly felt from his influence, made it be cherished by the people, at least by the peaceable and well-disposed among them ; and if his son enjoyed the same good qualities, government advan- ced the sooner to maturity and perfection ; but was still in a feeble state, till the farther progress of improve- ment procured the magistrate a revenue, and enabled him to bestow rewards on the several instruments of his administration, and to inflict punishments on the re- fractory and disobedient. Before that period, each ex- ertion of his influence must have been particular, and founded on the peculiar circumstances of the case. Af- ter it, submission was no longer a matter of choice in the bulk of the community, but was rigorously exacted by the authority of the supreme magistrate. In all governments, there is a perpetual intestine struggle, open or secret, between Authority and Li- iK'rty ; and neither of them can ever absolutely prevail OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 41 in the contest. A great sacrifice of liberty must neces- sarily be made in every government ; yet even the au- thority, which confines liberty, can never, and perhaps ought never, in any constitution, to become quite entire and uncontrollable. The sultan is master of the life and fortune of any individual ; but will not be permitted to impose new taxes on his subjects : a French monarch can impose taxes at pleasure ; but would find it dan- gerous to attempt the lives and fortunes of individuals. Religion also, in most countries, is commonly found to be a very intractable principle ; and other principles or prejudices frequently resist all the authority of the civil magistrate ; whose power, being founded on opi- nion, can never subvert other opinions equally rooted with that of his title to dominion. The government, which, in common appellation, receives the appellation of free, is that which admits of a partition of power among several members, whose united authority is no less, or is commonly greater, than that of any monarch; but who, in the usual course of administration, must act by genei'al and equal laws, that are previously known to all the members, and to all their subjects. In this sense, it must be owned, that liberty is the per- fection of civil society ; but still authority must be ac- knowledged essential to its very existence : and in those contests which so often take place between the one and the other, the latter may, on that account, challenge the preference. Unless perhaps one may say (and it may be said with some reason) that a circumstance, which is essential to the existence of civil society, must always support itself, and needs be guarded with less jealousy, than one that contributes only to its perfec- tion, which the indolence of men is so apt to neglect, or their ignorance to overlook. 42 ESSAY VI. ESSAY VI. OF THE INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. Political writers have established it as a maxim, that, in contriving any system of government, and fix- ing the several checks and controls of the constitution, every man ought to be supposed a knave, and to have no other end, in all his actions, than private interest. By this interest we must govern him, and, by means of P In the Editions A, C and D, this Essay is introduced by the following examination of the spirit of parties. — I have frequently observed, in com- paring the conduct of the court and country party, that the former are commonly less assuming and dogmatical in conversation, more apt to make concessions, and though not, perhaps, more susceptible of con- viction, yet more able to bear contradiction than the latter, who are a])t to fly out upon any opposition, and to regard one as a mercenary, designing fellow, if he argues with any coolness and impartiality, or makes any concessions to their adversaries. Tliis is a fact, which, I believe, every one may have observed who has been much in companies where political questions have been discussed ; though, were one to ask the reason of this diflerence, every party would be apt to assign a dif- ferent reason. Gentlemen in the opposition will ascribe It to the very nature of their party, which, being founded on public spirit, and a zeal for the constitution, cannot easily endure such doctrines as are of per- nicious consequence to liberty. The courtiers, on the other hand, will be apt to put us in mind of the clown mentioned by Lord Shaftsbury, ' A clown, ' says that excelk'nt author, * ' once took a fancy to hear iVIisccllaneous Reflections, page 107, INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 43 it, make him, notwithstanding his insatiable avarice and ambition, cooporate to public good. Without this, say they, we shall in vain boast of the advantages of any constitution, and shall find, in the end, that we have no security for our liberties or possessions, ex- the Latin disputes of doctors at an university. He was asked what plea- sure he could take in viewing such combatants, when he could never know so much as wliich of the parties had the better. ' — ' Fur that mat- ter,' replied the clown, ' I an I such a fool neither, but I can see ivho^s thejirst that jmts t'other into a passion.' Nature herself dictated this lesson to the clown, that he who had the better of the argument would be easy and well humoured : But he who was unable to support his cause by reason would naturally lose his temper, and grow violent. ' To which of these reasons will we adhere ? To neither of them, in my opinion ; unless we have a mind to inlist ourselves and become zea- lots in either party. I believe I can assign the reason of this different conduct of the two parties, without offending either. The counti-y party are plainly most popular at present, and perhaps have been so in most administrations : So that, being accustomed to prevail in company, they cannot endure to bear their opinions controverted, but are as confident on the public favour, as if they were supported in all their sentiments by the most infallible demonstration. The courtiers, on the other hand, are commonly run down by your popular talkers, that if you speak to them with any moderation, or make them the smallest concessions, they think themselves extremely obliged to you, and are apt to return the fa- vour by a like moderation and facility on their part. To be furious and passionate, they know, would only gain them the character o{ shame- less mercenaries, not that of zcalotis patriots, which is the character that such a warm behaviour is apt to acquire to the other party. In all controversies, we find, without regarding the truth or falsehood on either side, that those who defend the established and popular opi- nions are always most dogmatical and imperious in their style : while their adversaries affect almost extraordinary gentleness and moderation, in order to soften, as much as possible, any prejudices that may be a- gainst them. Consider the behaviour of our Free-thinkers of all deno- minations, whether they be such as decry all revelation, or oiily oppose the exorbitant power of the clergy ; Collins, Tindal, Foster, Hoadley. Compare their moderation and good manners with the furious zeal and scurrility of their adversaries, and you will be convinced of the trutU 44 ESSAY vr. cept the good will of our rulers ; that is, we shall have no security at all. It is, therefore, a just political maxim, that every vian must he supposed a knave ; though, at the same tune, it appears somewhat strange, that a maxim should be true in politics which is false mfact. But to satisfy us on this head, we may consider, that men are gene- nerally more honest in their private than in their pub- lic capacity, and will go greater lengths to serve a party, than when their own private interest is alone of iny obsers'ation. A like difference may be observed in the conduct of those French writers, who maintained the controversy with regard to ancient and modern learning. Boileau, Monsieur and Madame Dacier, I'Abbe de Bos, who defended the party of the ancients, mixed their reasonings with satire and invective; while Fontenelle, la Mottc, Char- pentier, and even Perrault, never transgressed the bounds of modera- tion and good breeding, though provoked by tlie most injurious treat- ment of their adversaries. I must however observe, that this remark with regard to the seeming moderation of the court party, is entirely confined to conversation, and to gentlemen who have been engaged by interest or inclination in that party. For as to the court writers, being commonly hired scribblers, they are altogether as scurrilous as the mercenaries of the other party : Nor has the Gazetteer any advantage, in this respect, above comvion sense. A man of education will, in any party, discover himself to be such by his good breeding and decency, as a scoundrel will always betray the oppo- lite qualities. The false accusers accused, &c. is very scurrilous, though that side of the question, being least popular, should be defended with most moderation. When L — d B — c, L — dM — t, Mr L — n, take the pen in liand, though they write with warmtli, they presume not upon tJieir popularity so far as to transgress tlie bounds of decency. I am led into this train of reflection by considering some papers wrote apon that grand topic of court influence and parliamentary dependence, where, in my humble opinion, the country party show too rigid an inflexi- bility, and too great a jealousy of making concessions to their adversaries. Their reasonings lose their force by being carried too far; and the po- pularity of their ojiinions has seduced them to neglect in some measure their justness and solidity. The following reasoning will, I hope, serve to justify me in tliis opinion. INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 46 concerned. Honour is a great check upon mankind : But where a considerable body of men act together, this check is in a great measure removed, since a man is sure to be approved of by his own party, for what promotes the common interest ; and he soon learns to despise the clamours of adversaries. To which we may add, that every court or senate is determined by the greater number of voices ; so that, if self-interest influences only the majority (as it will always do), the whole senate follows the allurements of this separate interest, and acts as if it contained not one member who had any regard to public interest and liberty. When there offers, therefore, to our censure and ex- amination, any plan of government, real or imaginary, where the power is distributed among several courts, and several orders of men, we should always consider the separate interest of each court, and each order; and if we find that, by the skilful division of power, this interest must necessarily, in its operation, concur with the public, we may pronounce that government to be wise and happy. If, on the contrary, separate interest be not checked, and be not directed to the public, we ought to look for nothing but faction, disor- der, and tyranny from such a government. In this opinion I am justified by experience, as well as by the authority of all philosophers and politicians, both an- cient and modern. How much, therefore, would it have surprised such a genius as Cicero or Tacitus, to have been told, that in a future age there should arise a very regular sys- tem of mixed government, where the authority was so distributed, that one rank, whenever it pleased, might swallow up all the rest, and engross the whole power of the constitution ! — Such a government, they would 46 ESSAY vr. say, will not be a mixed government. For so great is the natural ambition of men, that they are never satis- fied with power ; and if one order of men, by pursuing its own interest, can usurp upon every other order, it will certainly do so, and render itself, as far as possible, absolute and uncontrollable. But, in this opinion, experience shows they would liave been mistaken. For this is actually the case with the British constitution. The share of power allotted by our constitution to the House of Commons is so great, that it absolutely commands all the other parts of the government. The king's legislative power is plainly no proper check to it. For though the king has a negative in framing laws, yet this, in fact, is esteemed of so little moment, that whatever is voted by the two Houses, is always sure to pass into a law, and the royal assent is little better than a form. The principal weight of the crown lies in the executive power. But, besides that the executive power in every government is altogether subordinate to the legislative; besides this, I say, the exercise of this power requires an immense expense, and tlie Commons have assumed to tliemselves the sole right of granting money. How easy, therefore, would it be for that house to wrest from the crown all these powers, one after another, by making every grant conditional, and choosing their time so well, that their refusal of supply should only distress the government, without giving foreign powers any advantage over us I Did the House of Conmions depend in the same manner upon the king, and had none of the members any property but from his gift, would not he command all their resolutions, and be from that moment absolute? As to the House of Liords, tliey are a very powerful support to the crown, INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 47 SO long as they are, in their turn, supported by it ; but both experience and reason show, that they have no force or authority sufficient to maintain themselves alone, without such support. How, therefore, shall we solve this paradox ? And by what means is this member of our constitution con- fined within the proper limits, since, from our very con- stitution, it must necessarily have as much power as it demands, and can only be confined by itself? How is this consistent with our experience of human nature ? I answer, that the interest of the body is here restrained by that of the individuals, and that the House of Com- mons stretches not its power, because such an usurpa- tion would be contrary to the interest of the majority of its members. The crown has so many offices at its disposal, that, when assisted by the honest and disin- terested part of the House, it will always command the resolutions of the whole, so far, at least, as to preserve the ancient constitution from danger. We may, there- fore, give to this influence what name we please ; we may call it by the invidious appellations of corruption and dependence ; but some degree and some kind of it are inseparable from the very nature of the constitution, and necessary to the preservation of our mixed govern- ment. Instead, then, of asserting ^ absolutely, that the de- pendence of parliament, in every degree, is an infringe- ment of British liberty, the country party should have made some concessions to their adversaries, and have only examined what was the proper degree of this de- pendence, beyond which it became dangerous to li- berty. But such a moderation is not to be expected in ^ See Dissertation on Parties, throughout. 48 ESSAY vr. party-men of any kind. After a concession of this na- ture, all declamation must be abandoned ; and a calm inquiry into the proper degree of court influence and parliamentary dependence would have been expected by the readers. And though the advantage, in such a controversy, might possibly remain to the country xiarty, yet the victory would not be so complete as they wish for, nor would a true patriot have given an entire loose to his zeal, for fear of running matters into a contrary extreme, by diminishing too " far the influence of the crown. It was, therefore, thought best to deny that this extreme could ever be dangerous to the constitu- tion, or that the crown could ever have too little influ- ence over members of parliament. All questions concerning the proper medium between extremes are difficult to be decided ; both because it is not easy to find xa-oi-fls proper to fix this medium, and because the good and ill, in such cases, run so gradu- ally into each other, as even to render our sentiments doubtful and uncertain. But there is a peculiar diffi- culty in the present case, which would embarrass the most knowing and most impartial examiner. The power of the crown is always lodged in a single person, either king or minister ; and as this person may have either a greater or less degree of ambition, capacity, " By that injluence of the crown, which I would justify, I mean only that which arises from tlie offices and honours that arc at the disposal of the crown. As to private bribery, it may be considered in the same light as the practice of employing spies, which is scarcely justifiable in a good minister, and is infamous in a bad one : But to be a spy, or to be cor- rupted, is always infamous under all ministers, and is to be regarded as a shameless prostitution. Polybius justly esteems the pecuniary influ- ence of the senate and censors to be one of the regular and constitution- al weights xvhich preserved the balance of the Roman government.— Lib. vi. cap. lo. INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 49 courage, popularity, or fortune, the power, which is too great in one hand, may become too httle in another. In pure repubhcs, where the authority is distributed among several assembhes or senates, the checks and controls are more regular in their operation ; because the members of such numerous assemblies may be pre-^ sumed to be always nearly equal in capacity and virtue ; and it is only their number, riches, or authority, which enter into consideration. But a limited monarchy ad- mits not of any such stability ; nor is it possible to as- sign to the crown such a determinate degree of power, as will, in every liand, form a proper counterbalance to the other parts of the constitution. This is an un- avoidable disadvantage, among the many advantages attending that species of government. A'OL. I it; 50 ESSAY VII. ESSAY VII. WHETIIETl THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT INCLINES MORE TO ABSOLUTE MONARCHY OR TO A REPUBLIC. It afFords a violent prejudice against almost every science, that no prudent man, however sure of his prin- ciples, dares prophesy concerning any event, or fore- tel the remote consequences of things. A physician will not venture to pronounce concerning the condition of his patient a fortnight or a month after : And still less dares a politician foretel the situation of public affairs a few years hence. Harrington thought himself so sure of his general principles, that the balance of jpoisoer depends on that of i)ropcrt\j^ that he ventured to pronounce it im- possible ever to re-establish monarchy in England : But his book was scarcely published when the king was restored ; and we see that monarchy has ever since subsisted upon the same footing as before. Notwith- standing this unlucky example, I will venture to exa- mine an important question, to wit, Whether the Bri- tish Govci'nmeyit inclines more to absolute monarchy or to a republic ; and in itohich of these two species of govern- ment it will most probably terminate P As there seems not to be any great danger of a sudden revolution ei- ther way, I shall at least escape the shame attending my temerity, if I should be found to have been mista- ken. THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 51 Those who assert that the balance of our govern- ment mclines towards absolute monarchy, may sup- port their opinion by the following reasons : That property has a great influence on power cannot pos- sibly be denied ; but yet the general maxim, that the balance of the one dcpemh on the balance of tJie other, must be received with several limitations. It is evi- dent, tliat much less property in a single hand will be able to counterbalance a greater property in several ; not only because it is difficult to make many persons combine in the same views and measures, but because property, when united, causes much greater depend- ence than the same property when dispersed. A hun- dred persons, of 1000/. a year a piece, can consume all tJieir income, and nobody shall ever be the better for them, except their servants and tradesmen, who justly regard their profits as the product of their own labour. But a man possessed of 100,000/. a year, if he has ei- ther any generosity or any cunning, may create a great dependence by obligations, and still a greater by ex- pectations. Hence we may observe, that, in all free governments, any subject exorbitantly rich has alwaj^s created jealousy, even though his riches bore no pro- portion to those of the state. Crassus's fortune, if I remember well, amounted only to about two millions and a half of our money ; yet we find, that though his genius was nothing extraordinary, he was able, by means of his riches alone, to counterbalance, during his lifetime, the power of Pompey as well as that of Caesar, who afterwards became master of the world. The wealth of the Medici made them masters of Flo- rence, though it is probable it was not considerable, compared to the united property of that opulent re- public. d2 62 ESSAY VII. These considerations are apt to make one entertain a magnificent idea of the British spirit and love of li- berty, since we could maintain our free government, during so many centuries, against our sovereigns, who, besides the power, and dignity, and majesty of the crown, have always been possessed of much more pro- perty than any subject has ever enjoyed in any com- monwealth. But it may be said that this spirit, how- ever great, will never be able to support itself against that immense property which is now lodged in the king, and which is still increasing. Upon a moderate computation, there are near three millions a year at the disposal of the crown. The civil list amounts to near a million ; the collection of all taxes to another; and the employments in the army and navy, together with ecclesiastical preferments, to above a third mil- lion : — an enormous sum, and what may fairly be com- puted to be more than a thirtieth part of the whole in- come and labour of the kinjjdom. When we add to this great property the increasing luxury of the nation, our proneness to corruption, together with the great power and prerogatives of the crown, and the com- mand of military force, there is no one but must de- spair of being able, without extraordinary efforts, to- support our free government much longer under these disadvantages. On the other hand, those who maintain that the bias of the British government leans towards a republic, may support their opinion by specious arguments. It may be said, that though this immense property in the erown be joined to the dignity of first magistrate, and to many other legal powers and prerogatives, which should naturally give it greater influence; yet it really becouies less dangerous to liberty upon that ver}' ac- THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 53 » count. Were England a republic, and were any pri- vate man possessed of a revenue, a third, or even a tenth part as large as that of the crown, he would very justly excite jealousy ; because he would infallibly have great authority in the government. And such an irre- gular authority, not avowed by the laws, is always more dangerous than a much greater authority derived from them. A man possessed of usurped power can set no bounds to his pretensions : His partisans have liberty to hope for every thing in his favour : His enemies provoke his ambition with his fears, by the violence of their opposition : And the government being thrown into a ferment, every corrupted humour in the state naturally gathers to him. On the contrary, a legal au- thority, though great, has always some bounds, which terminate both the hopes and pretensions of the person possessed of it : The laws must have provided a reme- dy against its excesses : Such an eminent magistrate has much to fear, and little to hope, from his usurpa- tions : And as his legal authority is quietly submitted to, he has small temptation and small opportunity of extending it farther. Besides, it happens, with regard to ambitious aims and projects, what may be observed with regard to sects of philosophy and religion. A new sect excites such a ferment, and is both opposed and defended with such vehemence, that it always spreads faster, and multiplies its partisans with greater rapidity than any old established opinion, recommend- ed by the sanction of the laws and of antiquity. Such is the nature of novelty, that, where any thing pleases, it becomes doubly agreeable, if new ; but if it displeases, it is doubly displeasing upon that very account. And, in most cases, the violence of enemies is favourable to ambitious projects, as well as the zeal of partisans. 54 ESSAY VII. It may fartlier be said, that, though men be much governed by interest, yet even interest itself, and all human alFairs, are entirely governed by ojnnion. Now, there has been a sudden and sensible change in the opinions of men within these last fifty years, by the progress of learning and of liberty. Most people in tliis Island have divested themselves of all superstitious reverence to names and authority : The clergy have much lost their credit : Their pretensions and doc- trines have been ridiculed ; and even religion can scarcely support itself in the world. The mere name of king commands little respect ; and to talk of a king as God's vicegerent on earth, or to give him any of those magnificent titles which formerly dazzled man- kind, would but excite laughter in every one. Though the crown, by means of its large revenue, may main- tain its authority, in times of tranquillity, upon private interest and influence, yet, as tlie least shock or con- vulsion must break all these interests to pieces, the royal power, being no longer supported by the settled principles and opinions of men, will immediately dis- solve. Had men been in the same disposition at the lievolution, as they are at present, monarchy would have run a great risk of being entirely lost in this Island. Durst I venture to deliver my own sentiments amidst these opposite arguments, I would assert, that, unless there happen some extraordinary convulsion, the powei' of the crown, by means of its large revenue, is rather upon the increase ; though at the same time, I own that its progress seems very slow, and almost insen- sible. The tide has run long, and with some rapidity, to the side of popular government, and is just begin- ning to turn towards monarchy. THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 55 It is well known, that every government must come to a period, and that death is unavoidable to the poli- tical, as well as to the animal body. But, as one kind of death may be preferable to another, it may be in- quired, whether it be more desirable for the British constitution to terminate in a popular government, or in an absolute monarchy ? Here I would frankly de- clare, that though liberty be preferable to slavery, m almost every case ; yet I should rather wish to see an absolute monarch than a republic in this Island. For let us consider what kind of republic we have reason to expect. The question is not concerning any fine imaginary republic, of which a man forms a plan in his closet. Thei'e is no doubt but a popular government may be imagined more perfect than an absolute mo- narchy, or even than our present constitution. But what reason have we expect that any such government will ever be established in Great Britain, upon the dissolution of our monarchy ? If any single person acquire power enough to take our constitution to pieces, and put it up anew, he is really an absolute monarch ; and we have already had an instance of this kind, sufficient to convince us, that such a person will never resign his power, or establish any free government. Matters, therefore, must be trusted to their natural progress and operation ; and the House of Commons, according to its present constitution, must be the only legislature in such a popular government. The incon- veniences attending such a situation of affairs present themselves by thousands. If the House of Commons, in such a case, ever dissolve itself, which is not to be expected, we may look for a civil war every election. If it continue itself, we shall suffer all the tyranny of a faction subdivided into new factions. And, as such a 66 ESSAY VII. violent government cannot long subsist, we shall, at last, after many convulsions and civil wars, find repose in absolute monarchy, which it would have been hap- pier tor us to have established peaceably from the be- ginning. Absolute monarchy, therefore, is the easiest death, the true Euthanasia of the British constitution. Thus, if we have reason to be more jealous of mo- narchv, because the danjrer is more imminent from that quarter ; we have also reason to be mor€ jealous of popular government, because that danger is more ter- rible. Tins may teach us a lesson of moderation in all our political controversies. OF PARTIES IN GENEttAL. 57 ESSAY VIII. OF TARTIES IN GENERAL. Of all men that distinguish themselves by memorable achievements, the first place of honour seems due to Legislators and founders of states, who transmit a system of laws and institutions to secure the peace, happiness, and liberty of future generations. The in- fluence of useful inventions in the arts and sciences may, perliaps, extend farther than that of wise laws, whose effects are limited both in time and place ; but the benefit arising from the former is not so sensible as that which results from the latter. Speculative sci- ences do, indeed, improve the mind, but this advan- tage reaches only to a few persons, who have leisure to apply themselves to them. And as to practical arts, which increase the commodities and enjoyments of life, it is well known that men's happiness consists not so much in an abundance of these, as in the peace and security with which they possess them; and those blessings can only be derived from good government. Not to mention, that general virtue and good morals in a state, which are so requisite to happiness, can never arise from the most refined precepts of philo- sophy, or even the severest injunctions of religion; but must proceed entirely from the virtuous educa.. 58 ESSAY VIII. tion of youth, the cfTect of wise laws and institutions. I must, therefore, presume to differ from Lord Bacon in this particuhir, and must regard antiquity as some- what unjust in its distribution of honours, when it made gods of all the inventors of useful arts, such as Ceres, Bacchus, iEsculapius ; and dignified legislators, such as Romulus and Theseus, only with the appella- tion of demigods and heroes. As much as legislators and founders of states ought to be honoured and res])ected among men, as much ought the founders of sects and factions to be detested and hated ; because the influence of faction is directly contrary to that of laws. Factions subvert government, render laws unpotent, and beget the fiercest animosities among men of the same nation, who ought to give iiuitual assistance and protection to each other. And what should render the founders of parties more odious, is the difficulty of extirpating these weeds, when once they have taken root in any state. They naturally propagate themselves for many centuries, and seldom end but Ijy the total dissolution of that government, in which they are sown. They are, besides, plants which grow most plentifully in the richest soil ; and though absolute governments be not wholly free from them, it must be confessed, that they rise more easily, and pro- pagate themselves faster in free governments, where tliey always infect the legislature itself, which alone could be able, by the steady a])plication of rewards and j)unishments, to eradicate them. Factions may be divided into Personal and Real ; tliat is, into factions founded on personal friendship or animosity among such as compose the contending parties, and into those founded on some real difference of sentiment or interest. The reason of this distinction OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 59 is obvious ; though I must acknowledge, that parties are seldom found pure and unmixed, either of the one kind or the other. It is not often seen, that a government divides into factions, where there is no difference in the views of the constituent members, either real or apparent, trivial or material : And in those factions, which are founded on the most real and most material difference, there is always observed a great deal of personal animosity or affection. But notwithstanding this mixture, a party may be denominated either per- sonal or real, according to that principle which is pre- dominant, and is found to have the greatest influence. Personal factions arise most easily in small republics. Every domestic quarrel, there, becomes an affair of state. Love, vanity, emulation, any passion, as well as ambition and resentment, begets public division. The Neri and Bianchi of Florence, the Fregosi and A- DOHNi of Genoa, the Colonnesi and Orsini of modern Rome, were parties of this kind. Men have such a propensity to divide into personal factions, that the smallest appearance of real difference will produce them. What can be imagined more trivial than the difference between one colour of livery and another in horse races ? Yet this difference begat two most inveterate factions in the Greek empire, the Pra- siNi and Veneti, who never suspended their animosi- ties till they ruined that unhappy government. We find in the Roman history a remarkable dissen- sion between two tribes, the Pollia and Papiria, which continued for the space of near three hundred years, and discovered itself in their suffrages at every election of magistrates. "^ This faction was the more remark- ° As this fact has not been much observed by antiquaries or politi- cians, I shall deliver it in the words of the Roman historian. « Populus 60 ESSAY VJII. able, as it could continue for so long a tract of time ; even though it did not spread itself, nor draw any of the other tribes into a share of the quarrel. If man- kind had not a strong propensity to such divisions, the indillerence of the rest of the community must have suppressed this foolish animosity, that had not any ah- ment of new benefits and injuries, of general sympathy and antipathy, which never fail to take place, when the whole state is rent into equal factions. Nothing is more usual than to see parties, which have begun upon a real difference, continue even after that difference is lost. When men are once inlisted on op- posite sides, they contract an affection to the persons with whom they are united, and an animosity against their antagonists ; and these passions they often trans- mit to their posterity. The real difference between Guelf and Ghibbeline was long lost in Italy, before these factions were extinguislied. The Guelfs adhered to the po])e, the Ghibbelines to the emperor; yet the family of iSlbrza, who were in alliance with the empe- ror, though they were Guelfs, being expelled Milan by tiie king * of France, assisted by Jacomo Trivulzio and the Ghibbelines, the pope concurred with the latter, Tusculanus cum conjugibus ac liberis Romam venit : Ea multitudo ves- tc mutata, ct speciu rcorum, tribus circuit, genibus se omnium advolvens. Plus ita([uc misericordia ad pccna; veniam impetrandam, quar.i causa ad crimen purgandum valuit. Tribus omnes, prater Polliam, antiquarunt legem. PoUia; sententia fuit, puberes verberatos necari ; liberos conju- gesquc sub corona leg'e l)elli venire: Memoriamque ejus ira; Tusculanjs ill pftnac tam atrocis auctorcs, mansissc ad patrum aitatem constat, nee quemquain fermc ex Pollia trilju candidatum Papiriam ferre solitum.'— T. Livii, lib. H. The Castelani and Nicolloti are two mobbish factions in Venice, wlio frequently box together, and then lay aside their quar. relh pre»iontiy. ^LcwibXII. • OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. Gt and they formed leagues with the pope against the em- peror. The civil wars which arose some few years ago in Morocco between the Blacks and Whites, merely on ac- count of their complexion, are founded on a pleasant difference. We laugh at them ; but, I believe, were things rightly examined, we afford much more occasion of ridicule to the Moors. For, what are all the wars of religion, which have prevailed in this polite and knowing part of the world ? They are certainly more absurd than the Moorish civil wars. The difference of complexion is a sensible and a real difference ; but the controversy about an article of faith, which is utterly absurd and unintelligible, is not a difference in senti- ment, but in a few phrases and expressions, which one party accepts of without understanding them, and the other refuses in the same manner. ^ Real factions may be divided into those from interest, from prificiple, and from affection. Of all factions, the. first are the most reasonable, and the most excusable. Where two orders of men, such as the nobles and peo- ple, have a distinct authority in a government, not very accurately balanced and modelled, they naturally fol- low a distinct interest ; nor can we reasonably expect a different conduct, considering that degree of selfish- ness implanted in human nature. It requires great skill 5 Besides I do not find that the Whites in Morocco ever imposed on the Blacks any necessity of altering their complexion, or frightened thera with inquisitions and penal laws in case of obstinacy. Nor have the Blacks been more unreasonable in tliis particular. But is a man's opi- nion, where he is able to form a real opinion, more at his disposal than his complexion ? And can one be induced by force or fear to do more than paint and disguise in the one case as well as iu the other ? — Eui- TioNs A, C, D, N. 62 ESSAY VIII. in a legislator to prevent sucli parties ; and many phi- losophers are of opinion, that this secret, like the grand elixir^ or ])erpctual motion, may amuse men in theory, but can never possibly be reduced to practice. In des- potic governments, indeed, factions often do not ap- pear ; but they are not the less real ; or rather, they are more real and more pernicious upon that very ac- count. The distinct orders of men, nobles and people, soldiers and merchants, have all a distinct interest ; but the more powerful oppresses the weaker with impunity, and without resistance ; which begets a seeming tran- quillity in such governments. There has been an attempt in England to divide the landed and trading part of the nation ; but without suc- cess. The interests of these two bodies are not really distinct, and never will be so, till our public debts in- crease to such a degree as to become altogether op->- pressive and intolerable. Parties from ■principle, especially abstract speculative principle, are known only to modern times, and are, perhaps, the most extraordinary and unaccountable phenomenon that has yet appeared in human affairs. Where different principles beget a contrariety of con- duct, which is the case with all different political prin- ciples, the matter may be more easily explained. A man who esteems the true right of government to lie in one man, or one family, cannot easily agree with his fellow-citizen, who thinks that another man or fa- mily is possessed of this right. Each naturally wishes that right may take place, according to his own notions of it. But where the difference of principle is attend- ed with no contrariety of action, but every one may follow his own way, without interfering with his neigh- bour, as ha})pens in all religious controversies, what OF PARTIES IN GENERAL, 63 madness, what fury, can beget such an unhappy and such fatal divisions ? Two men travelling on the highway, the one east, the other west, can easily pass each other, if the way be broad enough : but two men, reasoning upon oppo- site principles of religion, cannot so easily pass, with- out shocking, though one should think, that the way were also, in that case, sufficiently broad, and that each might proceed, without interruption, in his own course. But such is the nature of the human mind, that it al- ways lays hold on every mind that approaches it ; and as it is wonderfully fortified by an unanimity of senti- ments, so it is shocked and disturbed by any contrarie- ty. Hence the eagerness which most people discover in a dispute ; and hence their impatience of opposition, even in the most speculative and indifferent opinions. This principle, however frivolous it may appear, seems to have been the origin of all religious wars and divisions. But as this principle is universal in human nature, its effects would not have been confined to one age, and to one sect of religion, did it not there concur with other more accidental causes, which raise it to such a height as to produce the greatest misery and devastation. Most religions of the ancient world arose in the unknown ages of government, when men were as yet barbarous and uninstructed, and the prince, as well as peasant, was disposed to receive, with implicit faith, every pious tale or fiction which was offered him. The magistrate embraced the religion of the people, and, entering cordially into the care of sacred matters^ naturally acquired an authority in them, and united the ecclesiastical with the civil power. But the C/nis~ tia7i religion arising, while principles directly opposite to it were firmly established hi the polite part of the Gl ESSAY VIII. world, who despised tlie nation tliat first broached this novehy ; no wonder tliat, in such circumstances, it was but Httle countenanced by the civil magistrate, and that the priesthood was allowed to engross all the authority in the new sect. So bad a use did they make of this power, even in those early times, that the primitive persecutions may, perhaps in imrt, ' be ascribed to the violence instilled by them into their followers. And the same principles of priestly government con- tinuing, after Christianity became the established reli- gion, they have engendered a spirit of persecution, which has ever since been the poison of human society, and the source of the most inveterate factions in every government. Such divisions, therefore, on the part of the people, may justly be esteemed flictions of ^Wn- ciplc ; but, on the part of the priests, who are the prime movers, they are really factions of interest. " I say in part ; for it is a vulgar error to imagine, that the ancients were as great friends to toleration as the English or Dutch are at pre- sent. Tlie laws against external superstition, among the Romans, were as ancient as the time of the Twelve Tal)les ; and tlie Jews, as well as Christians, were sometimes pnnished by tliem ; thougli, in general, (liese laws were not rigorously executed. Immediately after the conquest of Gaul, they forbad all l)ut the natives to be initiated into the religion of the Druids ; and this was a kind of persecution. In about a century after this conquest, the emperor Claudius quite abolished that supersti- tion by penal laws ; wliich would have been a very grievous persecution, if the imitation of the Roman manners had not, beforehand, weaned the Cauls from their ancient prejudices. Suetonius in vita Claudii. Pliny ascribes the abolition of the Druidical superstitions to Tiberius, probably because tliat emperor had taken some steps towards restraining them (lib. XXX. cap. i. ) This is an instance of the usual caution and modera- tion of the Romans in siicii cases; and very different from their violent and sanguinary method of treating the Christians. Hence we may en- tertjnn a suspicion, that those furious persecutions of Christianity were in some measure owing to the imprudent zeal and I)igotry of the fiist propagators of that sect ; and ecclesiastical history allbids us many rea- sons to confirm this suspicion. OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 65 There is another cause (beside the authority of the priests, and the separation of the ecclesiastical and civil powers), which has contributed to render Christendom the scene of religious wars and divisions. Religions that arise in ages totally ignorant and barbarous, con- sist mostly of traditional tales and fictions, which may be different in every sect, without being contrary to each other ; and even when they are contrary, every one adheres to the tradition of his own sect, without much reasoning or disputation. But as philosophy was widely spread over the world at the time when Chris- tianity arose, the teachers of the new sect were obliged to form a system of speculative opinions, to divide, with some accuracy, their articles of faith, and to explain, comment, confute and defend, with all the subtlety of argument and science. Hence naturally arose keen- ness in dispute, when the Christian religion came to be split into new divisions and heresies : And this keen- ness assisted the priests in their policy of begetting a mutual hatred and antipathy among their deluded fol- lowers. Sects of philosophy, in the ancient world, were more zealous than parties of religion ; but, in mo- dern times, parties of religion are more furious and enrao-ed than the most cruel factions that ever arose from interest and ambition. I have mentioned parties from affection as a kind of real parties, beside those from interest and principle. By parties from affection, I understand those which are founded on the different attachments of men to- wards particular families and persons whom they de- sire to rule over them. These factions are often very violent ; though, I must own, it may seem unaccount- able that men should attach themselves so strongly to persons with whom they are nowis;e ac(|uainted, VOL. III. E 66 ESSAY VI ir. whom perhaps they never saw, and from whom they never received, nor can ever hope for, any favour. Yet this we often find to be the case, and even with men, who, on other occasions, discover no great gene- rosity of spirit, nor are found to be easily transported by friendship beyond their own interest. We are apt to think the rehition between us and our sovereign very close and intimate. The splendour of majesty and power bestows an importance on the fortunes even of a single person. And when a man's good nature does not give him this imaginary interest, his ill nature will, from spite and opposition to persons whose sentiments are different from his own. THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 67 ESSAY IX. OF THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. Were the British government proposed as a subject of speculation, one would immediately perceive in it a source of division and party, which it would be almost impossible for it, under any administration, to avoid. The just balance between the republican and monar- chical part of our constitution is really in itself so ex- tremely delicate and uncertain, that, when joined to men's passions and prejudices, it is impossible but dif- ferent opinions must arise concerning it, even among persons of the best understanding. Those of mild tem- pers, who love peace and order, and detest sedition and civil wars, will always entertain more favourable sentiments of monarchy than men of bold and generous spirits, who are passionate lovers of liberty, and think no evil comparable to subjection and slavery. And though all reasonable men agree in general to preserve our mixed government, yet, when they come to parti- culars, some will incline to trust greater powers to the crown, to bestow on it more influence, and to guard against its encroachments with less caution, than others who are terrified at the most distant approaches of ty- ranny and despotic power. Thus are there parties of Principle involved in the very nature of our constitu- E 2 68 ESSAY IX. tion, wliich may properly enough be denominated those of Court and Country. ' ° The strength and violence of each of these parties will nuich depend upon the particular administration. An administration may be so bad, as to throw a great majority into the opposi- tion ; as a good administration will reconcile to the court many of the most passionate lovers of liberty. But however the nation may fluctuate between them, the parties themselves will always subsist, so long as we are governed by a limited monarchy. But, besides this difference of Principle, those par- ties are very much fomented by a difference of Inte- rest, without which they could scarcely ever be dan- gerous or violent. The crown will naturally bestow all trust and power upon those whose principles, real or pretended, are most favourable to monarchical go- vernment ; and this temptation will naturally engage them to go greater lengths than their principles would otherwise carry them. Their antagonists, who are disappointed in their ambitious aims, throw themselves into the party whose sentiments incline them to be most jealous of royal power, and naturally carry those sentiments to a greater height than sound politics will > o Tlicsc words have become of general use, and therefore I shall em- ploy them without intending to express by them an universal blame of the one party, or approbation of the otlier. The Court party may no doubt, on some occasions, consult best the interest of the country, and the Country party ()i)])Ose it. In like manner, the lioman parties were denominated Optimates and Populares ; and Cicero, like a true party man, defines the Optimates to lie such as, in all tlieir pubh'c conduct, re- gulated tlicmselves hy the sentiments of the I'est and worthiest Roman?; j)ro Scxtio. The term of Country party may afford a favo\iral)le definition or etymology of the same kind ; but it would be folly to draw any argu- ment from tliat l)ead, and I have no regard to it in employing these tenns. — N'oii: in Editions A, C, 1), N. THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 69 justify. Thus Court and Country, which are the genu- ine offspring of the British government, are a kind of mixed parties, and are influenced both by principle and by interest. The heads of the factions are commonly most governed by the latter motive ; the inferior mem- bers of them by the former. * ' As to ecclesiastical parties, we may observe, that, in all ages of the world, priests have been enemies to li- berty ; ^ ^ and, it is certain, that this steady conduct of theirs must have been founded on fixed reasons of in- terest and ambition. Liberty of thinking, and of ex- pressing our thoughts, is always fatal to priestly power, and to those pious frauds on which it is commonly founded ; and, by an infallible connexion, which pre- vails among all kinds of liberty, this privilege can never be enjoyed, at least has never yet been enjoyed, but in a free government. Hence it must happen, in such a constitution as that of Great Britain, that the establish- ed clergy, while things are in their natural situation, will always be of the Court party ; as, on the contrary, dissenters of all kinds will be of the Coimtry party \ since they can never hope for that toleration which " ' I must be understood to mean this of persons wlio have any mo- tive for taking party on any side. For, to tell the truth, the greatest part are commonly men who associate themselves they know not why ; from example, from passion, from idleness. But still it is requisite there be some source of division, either in principle or interest; otherwise such persons would not find parties to which they could associate them- selves...—Editions A, C, D, N. » * This proposition is true, notwithstanding that, in the early times- of the English government, the clergy were the great and principal op- posers of the crown ; but at that time their possessions were so immense- ly great, that they composed a considerable part of the proi^rietors of England, and in many contests were direet rivals of the crowa-— NoiB: IN Editions C, D, N. 70 ESSAY IX. tliey stand in need of, but by means of our free go- vernment. All princes that have aimed at despotic power have known of what importance it was to gain the established clergy ; as the clergy, on their part, have 8110%^! a great fiicility in entering into the views of such princes. " Gustavus Vasa was, perhaps, the only ambitious monarch that ever depressed the church, at the same time that he discouraged liberty. But the exorbitant power of the bishops in Sweden, who at that time overtopped the crown itself, together with their attachment to a foreign family, w'as the reason of his embracing such an unusual system of politics. This observation, concerning the propensity of priests to the government of a smgle person, is not true with regard to one sect only. The Presbyterian and Cal- vinistic clergy in Holland, were professed friends to the family of Orange ; as the ArminiaJis, who were esteem- ed heretics, were of the Louvestein faction, and zealous for liberty. But if a prince have the choice of both, it is easy to see that he will prefer the Episcopal to the Presbyterian form of government, both because of the greater affinity between monarchy and episcopacy, and because of tlie facility which he will find, in such a go- vernment, of ruling the clergy by means of their eccle- siastical superiors. " If we consider the first rise of parties in England, during the great rebellion, we shall observe that it was " Judoei silji ipbi reges impOBuerc, qui mobilitate vulgi expulsi, re- fcumpu per arma dominationc, fugas civium, urbium eversiones, fra- iruru, conjugum, parentum ncces, aliaque solita regibus ausi, superstiti- onem fovebant ; quia honor sacerdotii firmamcnlum potcntiae, assume- batur. Tacit. Hist. lib. v. ^ Populi impcrium, juxU libcrtatem : paucorum dominalio, rcgia; li- bidini propior est. Tacii, Ann. lib. vi. THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 71 conformable to this general theory, and that the species of government gave birth to them by a regular and in- fallible operation. The English constitution, before that period, had lain in a kind of confusion, yet so as that the subjects possessed many noble privileges, which, though not exactly bounded and secured by law, were universally deemed, from long possession, to belong to them as their birthright. An ambitious, or rather a misguided, prince arose, who deemed all these privileges to be concessions of his predecessors, revoc- able at pleasure ; and, in prosecution of this principle, he openly acted in violation of liberty during the course of several years. Necessity, at last, constrained him to call a parliament : The spirit of liberty arose and spread itself: The prince, being without any support, was obliged to grant every thing required of him : And his enemies, jealous and implacable, set no bounds to their pretensions. Here, then, began those contests, in which it was no wonder that men of that ag-e were divided into different parties ; since, even at this day, the impartial are at a loss to decide concerning the justice of the quarrel. The pretensions of the parlia- ment, if yielded to, broke the balance of the constitu- tion, by rendering the government almost entirely re- publican. If not yielded to, the nation was, perhaps, still in danger of absolute power, from the settled prin- ciples and inveterate habits of the king, which had plainly appeared in every concession that he had been constrained to make to his people. In this question, so delicate and uncertain, men naturally fell to the side which was most conformable to their usual prin- ciples ; and the more passionate favourers of monarchy declared for the king, as the zealous friends of liberty sided with the parliament. The hopes of success be- TS ESSAY IX. ing nearly equal on both sides, interc&t had no general influence in this contest : So that Roundhead and Cavalier were merely parties of principle, neither of which disowned either monarchy or liberty; but the former party inclined most to the republican part of our government, the latter to the monarchical. In this respect, they may be considered as court and country party, inflamed into a civil war, by an unhappy con- currence of circumstances, and by the turbulent spirit of the age. The commonwealth's men, and the parti- sans of absolute power, lay concealed in both parties, and formed but an inconsiderable part of them. The clergy had concurred with the king's arbitrary designs ; and, in return, were allowed to persecute their adversaries, whom they called heretics and schis- matics. The established clergy were Episcopal, the non-conformists Presbyterian ; so that all things con- curred to throw the former, without reserve, into the king's party, and the latter into that of the parlia- ment. ^ ' Every one knows the event of this quarrel ; fatal to the king first, to the parliament afterwards. After many confusions and revolutions, the royal family was 1 3 The clergy had concurred in a shameless manner with the Kinfj's arbitrarj' desij^ns, accordinfij to their usual maxims in such cases, and, in return, were allowed to persecute their adversaries, whom they called he- retics and schismatics. The established clergy were Episcopal, the non- conformists Presbyterians; so tliat all tilings concurred to throw the for- mer, without rcscr\'c, into the King's i)arty, and tlie latter into that of the I'arliament. Tlie Cannliers being the Court party, and the Round- heads the Country party, the union was infallible betwixt the former and the estal)lislied prelacy, and betwixt the latter and Presbyterian non- conformists. 'J'his union is so natural, according to the general princi- ples of ])()litics, that it requires some very extraordinary situation of af- fairs to break it.— Ewxio.vs A, C, D, N. n THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 78 at last restored, and tlic ancient government re-esta- blished. Cliarles II. was not made wiser by the exam- ple of his father, but prosecuted the same measures, though, at first, with more secrecy and caution. New parties arose, under the appellation of Whig and Tb>//, which have continued ever since to confound and dis- tract our G;overnment. To determine the nature of these parties is perhaps one of the most difficult pro- blems that can be met with, and is a proof that history may contain questions as uncertain as any to be found in the most abstract sciences. We have seen the con- duct of the two parties, during the course of seventy years, in a vast variety of circumstances, possessed of power, and deprived of it, during peace, and during war : Persons, who profess themselves of one side or other, we meet with every hour, in company, in our pleasures, in our serious occupations : We ourselves are constrained, in a manner, to take party; and, living in a country of the highest liberty, every one may openly declare all his sentiments and opinions : Yet are we at a loss to tell the nature, pretensions and principles, of the different factions. ^ * When we compare the parties of Whig and Tory with those of Roundhead and Cavalier, the most obvious difference that appears between them consists in the principles of jjassivc obedience, and indefeasible right, which were but little heard of among the Cava- liers, but became the universal doctrine, and were esteemed the true characteristic of a Tory. Were these principles pushed into their most obvious conse- * * The question is perhaps in itself somewhat difficult, but has been rendered more so by the prejudices and violence of party. — Editions, A, C, D, N. ^'t ESSAY IX. quences, they imply a formal renunciation of all our liberties, and an avotval of absolute monarchy; since nothing can be a greater absurdity than a limited power, which must not be resisted, even when it exceeds its limitations. But, as the most rational principles are often but a weak counterpoise to passion, it is no won- der that these absurd principles ' ^ were found too \veak for that effect. The Tories, as men, were ene- mies to oppression ; and also as Englishmen, they were enemies to arbitrary power. Their zeal for liberty was, perhaps, less fervent tiian that of their antagonists, but was sufficient to make them forget all their general principles, when they saw themselves openly threaten- ed with a subversion of the ancient government. From these sentiments arose the llcvolution ; an event of mighty consequence, and the firmest foundation of British liberty. The conduct of the Tories during that event, and after it, will afford us a true insight in- to the nature of that party. In iho. Jirst place, they appear to have had the ge- nuine sentiments of Britons in their affection for liber- ty, and in their determined resolution not to sacrifice it to any abstract principle whatsoever, or to any imagi- nary rights of princes. This part of their character might justly have been doubted of before the lievolu- iion, from the obvious tendency of their avowed prin- ciples, and from their ' '^ compliances with a court, which seemed to make little secret of its arbitrary de- signs. The Jlcvoluiiofi showed them to have been, in ' 5 Editions, A, C, D, N, sufficient, according to a justly celebrated author, • to shock the common sense of a Hottentot or Samoicde. ' ^ In P^DiTioNs A, (', and D, we read idmosl unlmundcd compliances. • Dissertation on Parties, Letter X. THK PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN". 75 this respect, nothing but a genuine cmirt party, sucli as might be expected in a British government; that is, lovers of liberty, but greater lovers of monarchy. It must, however, be confessed, that they carried their monarchical principles farther even in practice, but more so in theory, than was in any degree consistent with a limited government. Secondly, Neither their principles nor affections con- curred, entirely or heartily, with the settlement made at the Bevolution, or with that which has since taken place. This part of their character may seem opposite to the former, since any other settlement, in those cir- cumstances of the nation, must probably have been dangerous, if not fatal, to liberty. But the heart of man is made to reconcile contradictions ; and this con- tradiction is not greater than that between passive obe- dience, and the resistance employed at the Revolution. A Tory, therefore, since the Hevolution, may be defin- ed, in a few words, to be a lover of monarchy, though *mithout abandoning liberty, and a partisan of the family of Stuart : As a Whig may be defined to be a lover of liberty, though nsoithojit renouncing monarchy, cmd a friend to the settlement in the Protestant line. ' ' * ■' In Editions A and C, the definitions of Whig and Tory were fol- lowed by remarks in the text, which are thrown into a note in Editions D and N, and omitted altogether in 0. The celebrated writer above cited has asserted, that the real distinc- tion betwixt Whig and Tory was lost at the Revolution, and that ever since they have continued to be mere personal parties, like the Gueljs and Ghibbellines, after the Emperors had lost all authority in Ttali/. Such an opinion, were it received, would turn our whole history into an enigma. I shall first mention, as a proof of a real distinction betwixt these par- tics, what every one may have observed or heard concerning the conduct and conversation of all his friends and sicquaintance on both sides. 76 - ESSAY IX. These diirereiit views, with regard to the settlement of the crown, were accidental, but natural additions, to the principles of the Court and Country parties, which are the genuine divisions in the British government. A passionate lover of monarchy is apt to be displeased j at any change of the succession, as savouring too much j IIcivc not the Tories always bore an avowcrl aflTeclioii to the family of Sludrt, and liavc not tlieir adversaries ahfays opposed with vigour the succession of tliat family? The Tory principles are confessedly the most favourable to monarchy. Yet the Tories Iiave almost always opposed the court these fifty years; nor v.cre they cordial friends to King U'll/iavi, even when employed by Iiini. Their quarrel, therefore, cannot be supposed to have lain with the throne, but witli the person who sat on it. They concurred heartily with the court during the four last years of Queen ylnnc. But is any one at a loss to find the reason ? The succession of the crown in the British government is a point of too great consequence to be absolutely indifferent to persons who con- cern themselves, in any degree, about the fortune of the public ; much less can it be supposed that the Tory party, who never valued tliemselves upon moderation, could maintain a stoical indifference in a point of so great importance. Were they, therefore, zealous for the liouse of Hano- Vir? or was tliere any thing that kept an opposite zeal from openly ap- pearing, if it did not openly appear, but prudence, and a sense of de- cency ? It is monstrous to sec an established Episcopal clergy in declared op- position to the court, and a non-confonnist Presbyterian clergy in con- junction with it. W'liat can produce such an imnatural conduct in botli? Nothing, but tliat the former liave espoused monarchical princi- ples too high for tlie jiresent settlement, which is founded on the princi- ples of liberty : And the latter, being afraid of (he prevalance of tliose high princijiles, adhere to tliat party from whom tliey Iiave reason to ex- pect liberty and toleration. Tlie difierent conduct of the two parties, with regard to foreign poli- tics, is also a proof to the same purpose. Holland has always been most favoured by one, and Fniiiir by tlie otiiir. In short, the jiroofs of this kind seem so palpable and evident, that it is almost needless to collect them. It is liowever remarkable, that though the (jrinciplcsof ir/iigami Tory THE PAirriEs of great Britain. TT of a commonwealth : A passionate lover of liberty is apt to think that every part of the jj^overnment ought to be subordinate to the interests of liberty. Some, who will not venture to assert that the real difference between Whig and Tory was lost at the Re- voluti(m, seem inclined to think, that the difference is be both of them of a compound nature, yet the ingredients which predo- minated in both were not correspondent to cacli other. A Tor;/ loved monarchy, and bore an affection to the family of Stuart ,- but the latter affection was tlie predominant inclination of the party. A Whig loved liberty, and was a friend to the settlement in the Protestant line ; l)ut the love of liberty was professedly his predominant inclination. The Tories have fre<|uently acted as republicans, where eitlier policy or re- venge has engaged them to that conduct ; and there was none of tlie party who, upon the supposition that they were to be disa])pointed in their views with regard to the succession, would not have desired to im- pose the strictest limitations on the crown, and to bring our form of go- vernment as near republican as possible, in order to depress the family, that, according to their apprehension, succeeded without any just title. The Whigs, it is true, liave also taken steps dangerous to liberty, under pretext of securing the succession and settlement of the crown according to their views ; but, as the body of the party had no passion for that suc- cession, otherwise than as the means of securing liberty, they have been betrayed into these steps by ignorance or frailty, or the interest of their leaders. The succession of the crown was, therefore, the chief point with the Tories ; the security of our liberties witli the Whigs. • * In Editions D and N there follows a passage not found in A, C, or O. Nor is this seeming irregularity at all difficult to be accounted for by our present theory. Court and country parties are the true parents of Tory and Whig. But it is almost imiwssible that the attachment of the court party to monarchy should not degenerate into an attachment to the monarch, their being so close a connexion between them and the latter being so much the more natural-object. How easily does the worsliip of the Divinity degenerate into a worship of the idol ! The connexion is not so great between liberty, the divinity of the old Country party or Whigs, and any monarch or royal family; nor is it so reasonable to sup^ pose, that in that party the woisliip can he so easily transferred from th« one to the other, though even that would be no great miracle. '^^ ESSAY IX. now abolished, and that aflairs are so far returned to their natural state, that there are at present no other parties anion<r us but Cotirt and Coimfry ,- that is, men who, by interest or principle, are attached either to monarchy or liberty. The Tories have been so long obliged to talk in the republican style, that they seem It is difficult to penetrate into the thoughts and sentiments of any particular man ; but it is almost impossible to distinguish those of a wliole party, ■where it often happens that no two persons agree precisely in the same way of thinking. Yet I will venture to affirm, that it was not so much principle, or an opinion of indefeasible right, that attached the Tories to the ancient family, as affi.'ction, or a certain love and esteem for tlieir persons. The same cause divided England formerly betwixt tile houses of York and Lancaster, and Scotland betwixt the families of Uruce and Baliol, in an age wlien political disputes were but little in fiishion, and when political principles must of course have had but little influence on mankind. The doctrine of passive obedience is so absurd in itself, and so opposite to our liberties, that it seems to have been chiefly left to pulpit declaimers, and to their deluded followers amono- the mob. Men of better sense were guided by affection ; and as to the leaders of this party, it is ))rol)ab]e tliat interest was their sole motive, and that they acted more contrary to their private sentiments than the leaders of the opposite party. [Though it is almost impossible to maintain with zeal the right of any perscn or family, without acquiring a good will to them, and changing the principle into afluction, yet is this less natural to people of an elevat- ed station and liberal education, who have had full opportunity of observ- ing the weakness, folly, and arrogance of monarchs, and have found them to be nothing superior, if not rather inferior to the rest of mankind. The 'nterest, therefore, of Iieing heads of a party, does often, with such people, supply the place both of principle and aflfection.] • Scjme who will not venture to assert, that the real diflference between Wiiig and Tory, was lost at the Revolution, seem inclined to think that the diflL-rencc is now abolished, and that alliiirsare so far returned to their natural state, that there are at present no other parties amongst us but Court and Country ; that is, men who, by interest or principle, are attached either • The passage within brackets is not in editions A and C, but is found in Dancl N. What follows is found in all the early editions, A, C, D. N, THE PARTIEisi OF GIIEAT BRITAIN. 79 to have made converts of themselves by their hypocri- sy, and to have embraced the sentiments, as well as language of their adversaries. There are, however, very consiilerable remains of that party in England, with all their old prejudices ; and a proof that Court and Country are not our only parties, is, that almost all to Monarchy or to Liberty. It must indeed be confessed, that the Tory- party seem of late to have decayed much in their numbers, still more in their zeal, and I may venture to say, still more in their credit and au- thority. [There are few men of knowledge or learning, at least few phi- losophers since Mr Locke has wrote, who would not be ashamed to be thought of that party ; and in almost all companies, the name of Old Whig is mentioned as an incontestable appellation of honour and digni- ty. Accordingly, the enemies of the ministry, as a reproach, call the courtiers the true Tories ; and, as an honour, denominate the gentlemen in the Opposition the true Whigs.'] f The Tories have been so long oblig- ed to talk in the republican style, that they seem to have made converts of themselves by their hypocrisy, and to have embraced the sentiments as well as language of their adversaries. There are, however, very consi- derable remains of that party in England, with all their old prejudices ; and a proof that Court and Country are not our only parties, is, that al- most all our dissenters side with the Court, and the lower clergy, at least of the Church of England, with the Opposition. This may convince us that some bias still hangs upon our constitution, some extrinsic weight which turns it from its uatural course, and causes a confusion in our parties. I shall conclude this subject with observing, that we never bad any Tories in Scotland, according to the proper signification of the word, and that the division of parties in this country was really into Whigs and Jacobites. A Jacobite seems to be a Tory, vho has no regard to the constitution, but is either a zealous partisan of absolute monarchy, or at least willing to sacrifice our liberties to the obtaining the succession in that family to which he is attached. The reason of the difference betwixt England and Scotland I take to be this. Our political and religious di- visions in this country have been, since the Revolution, regularly corre- spondent to each other. The Presbyterians were all Whigs, without ei.. I The passage within brackets is in editions A, C, D, not in N, 80 ESSAY IX. tlif dissenters side with the court, and the lower cler- gVj at least of the church of Enghuid, with the opposi- tion. This may convince us, that some bias still hangs upon our constitution, some extrinsic weight, which turns it from its natural course, and causes a confusion in our parties. "* ccptioii ; the Episcopalians of the opposite parly. And as tlie clergy of tlie latter sect were turned out of tliuir churches at the Revolution, they liad no motive to make any compliances with the government in their oaths or forms of prayer, but openly avowed the higliest principles of their party ; which is the cause why their followers have been more bare- faced and violent than their brethren of the Tory party in England. [As violent things have not commonly so long a duration as moderate, we actually find that the Jacobite party is almost entirely vanished from among us, and that the distinction of Court and Counti-y, which is but creeping in at London, is the only one that is ever mentioned in this kingdom. Beside the violence and openness of the Jacobite party, an- otlier reason has perhaps contributed to produce so sudden and so visible an alteration in this part of Britain. There are only two ranks of men among us ; gentlemen who have some fortune and education, and the meanest slaving poor ; without any considerable number of that middling rank of men, which abounds more in England, both in cities and in the country, than in any other part of the world. Tlie slaving poor are in- capable of any principles : Gentlemen may be converted to true princi- ples, by time and experience. The middling rank of men have curiosity and knowledge enough to form principles, but not enough to form true ones, or correct any prejudices that they may have imbibed : And it is among the middling rank of people that Tory principles do at present prevail most in lOngland.J * * Some of the opinions delivered in these Essays, with regard to the jjuhlic transactions in the last century, the Author, on more accurate examination, found reason to retract in liis History of Great Britain, And as lie would not enslave himself to the systems of either party, nei- ther would lie fetter his jtulgnient by his own preconceived opinions and principles ; nor is he ashamed to acknowledge his mistakes. These juistakes were indeed, at that time, almost universal in this kingdom. • Tlic passage wiiiiin brackets is found in A and C, not in D and N- OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 81 ESSAY X. OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. That the corruption of the best of things j)^'oduces the "worsts is grown into a maxim, and is commonly proved, among other instances, by the pernicious effects of su- perstition and enthusiasm^ the corruptions of true reli- gion. These two species of false religion, though both per- nicious, are yet of a very different, and even of a con- trary nature. The uiind of man is subject to certain unaccountable terrors and apprehensions, proceeding either from the unhappy situation of private or public affairs, from ill health, from a gloomy and melancholy disposition, or from the concurrence of all these cir- cumstances. In such a state of mind, infinite unknown evils are dreaded from unknown agents ; and where real objects of terror are wanting, the soul, active to its own prejudice, and fostering its predominant incli- nation, finds imaginary ones, to whose power and ma- levolence it sets no limits. As these enemies are en- tirely invisible and unknown, the methods taken to ap- pease them are equally unaccountable, and consist in ceremonies, observances, mortifications, sacrifices, pre- sents, or in any practice, however absurd or frivolous, which either folly or knavery recommends to a blind VOL. III. J 82 ESSAY X. and terrified credulity. Weakness, fear, melancholy, together with ignorance, are, therefore, the true sources of Superstition. But the mind of man is also subject to an unaccount- able elevation and presumption, arising from prosperous success, from luxuriant health, from strong spirits, or from a bold and confident disposition. In such a state of mind, the imagination swells with great, but con- fused conceptions, to which no sublunary beauties or enjoyments can correspond. Every thing mortal and perishable vanishes as unworthy of attention ; and a full range is given to the fancy in the invisible regions, or world of Spirits, where the soul is at liberty to indulge itself in every imagination, which may best suit its present taste and disposition. Hence arise raptures, transports, and surprising flights of fancy ; and, confi- dence and presumption still increasing, these raptures, being altogether unaccountable, and seeming quite be- yond the reach of our ordinary faculties, are attributed to the immediate inspiration of that Divine Being who is the object of devotion. In a little time, the inspired person comes to regard himself as a distinguished fa- vourite of the Divinity ; and when this phrenzy once takes place, which is the summit of enthusiasm, every whimsy is consecrated : Human reason, and even mo- rality, are rejected as fallacious guides ; and the fanatic madman delivers himself over, blindly and without re- serve, to the supposed illapses of the Spirit, and to in- spiration from above. — Hope, pride, presumption, a warm imagination, together with ignorance, are there- fore the true sources of Enthusiasm. These two species of false religion might afford occa- sion to many speculations ; but I shall confine myself, at present, to a few reflections concerning their differ- ent influence on government and society. OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 83 * ^ yiy first reflection is, that superstition is favourable to -priestli) jwwer, and enthusiasm not less, or rather more contrary to it, than sound reason and j)hilosophij. As superstition is founded on fear, sorrow, and a depression of spirits, it represents the man to himself in such des- picable colours, that he appears unworthy, in his own ' ^ My first reflection is, that religions which partake of enthusiasm are, on their first rise, much more furious and violent than those which partake of superstition ; but in a little time become much more gentle and moderate. The violence of this species of religion, when excited by novelty, and animated by opposition, appears from numberless instances ; O^ i\\(i Anabaptists m. Gcimiany, the CamLwrs in France, the Levellers, and other fanatics in England, and the Covenanters in Scotland. As enthusiasm is founded on strong spirits and a presumptuous boldness of character, it naturally begets the most extreme resolutions ; especially after it rises to that height as to inspire the deluded fanatics with the opinion of Divine illuminations, and with a contempt of the common rules of reason, morality, and prudence. It is thus enthusiasm produces the most cruel desolation in human society: But its fury is like that of thunder and tempest, which exhaust themselves in a little time, and leave the air more calm and serene than before. The reason of this will appear evidently, by comparing enthusiasm to superstition, the other species of false religion, and tracing the natu- ral consequences of each. As superstition is founded on fear, sorrow, and a depression of spirits, it represents the person to himself in such despicable colours, that he appears unworthy, in his own eyes, of ap- proaching the Divine presence, and naturally has recourse to any other person whose sanctity of life, or perhaps impudence and cunning, have made him be supposed to be more favoured by the Divinity. To him they entrust their devotions : to his care they recommend their prayers, petitions and sacrifices : and by his means hope to render their ad- dresses acceptable to tlieir incensed Deity. Hence the origin of Priests,* * By priests, I understand only the pretenders to power and domi- nion, and to a superior sanctity of character, distinct from virtue and good morals. These are very different from clergymen, who are set apart to the care of sacred matters, and the conducting our public devo- tions with greater decency and order. There is no rank of men more to be respected than the latter. f2 84 ESSAY X. eyes, ofapproacliinir tlie Divine presence, and naturally has recourse to any other person, wliose sanctity of life, or perhaps impudence and cunning, have made him be sujiposed more favoured by the Divinity. To him the superstitious entrust their devotions ; to his care they recommend their prayers, petitions, and who may justly be regarded as proceeding from one of the grossest in- ventions of a timorous and abject superstition, wliich, ever diffident of itself, dares not offer up its own. devotions, but ignorantly thinks to re- commend itself to the Divinity by the mediation of his supposed friends and servants. As superstition is a cnansidcrable ingredient of almost all religions, even the most fanatical, there being nothing but pliilosophy able to conquer entirely these unaccountable terrors ; hence it proceeds, that in almost every sect of religion there are priests to be found. But the stronger mixture tliere is of superstition, the higher is the authority of the priesthood. Modern Judaism and Popery, especially the latter, being the most barbarous and absurd superstitions that have yet beea known in the world, arc the most enslaved by tlieir priests. As the church of England has a strong mixture of Popish superstition, it par- takes also, in its original constitution, of a propensity to priestly power and dominion, particularly in the respect it exacts to the priest. And though, according to the sentiments of that church, the prayers of the priest must be accomj)anied with those of the laity, yet is he the mouth of the congregation ; his person is sacred, and without his presence few would think their public devotions, or the sacraments and other rites, acceptable to the Divinity. On the otiiir liand, it may be observed, that all enthusiasts have been free from the yoke of Ecclesiastics, and Iiave expressed a great indepen- dence in their devotion ; with a contempt of forms, traditions, and au- thorities. The QtaihcTS are tl>e most egregious, though at the same time the most innocent enthusiasts that liave been yet known ; and are, per- haps, tlie only sect iliat liave never admitted priests amongst them. The Indepcndcnls, of all the English sectaries, approach nearest to the Quakers in fanaticism, and in their freedom from priestly bondage. The Vresbi/- terians follow after at an equal distance in both these particulars. In short, this observation is founded on the most certain experience ; and will also appear to be founded on reason, if we consider, that as enthu- siasm arises from a pre^^uinptuous pride and confidence, it thinks itself sufficiently qualified to iijijiruuch the Divinity without any human media- tor. Its rapturous devotions are so fervent, that it even imagines itself OF SUPERSTITION AND EXTII USIASM. 85 sacrifices: and by his means, they hope to render their addresses acceptable to their incensed Deity. Hence the origin of Priests, who may justly be re- garded as an invention of a timorous and abject super- stition, which, ever diffident of itself, dares not offer up its own devotions, but ignorantly thinks to recom- mend itself to the Divinity, by the mediation of his supposed friends and servants. As superstition is a considerable ingredient in almost all religions, even the most fanatical ; there being nothing but philosophy able entirel}' to conquer these unaccountable terrors ; hence it proceeds, that in almost every sect of religion actually to approach him by the way of contemplation and inward con- verse,— which makes it neglect all those outward ceremonies and observ- ances, to which the assistance of the priest appears so requisite in the eyes of their superstitious votaries. The fanatic consecrates himself, and bestows on his own person a sacred character, much superior to what forms and ceremonious institutions can confer on any other. It is therefore an infallible rule that superstition is favourable to priest- ly power, and enthusiasm as much, or rather more, contrary to it, than sound reason and philosophy. The consequences are evident. When tlie first fire of enthusiasm is spent, man naturally, in such fanatical sects, sinks into the greatest remissness and coolness in sacred matters; there being no body of men amongst them endowed with sufficient au- thority, whose interest is concerned, to support the religious spirit. Su- perstition, on the contrary, steals in gradually and insensibly; renders men tame and submissive ; is acceptable to the magistrate, and seems in- offensive to the people : till at last the priest, having firmly established his authority, becomes the tyrant and disturber of human society, by his endless contentions, persecutions, and religious wars. How smoothly did the BomUh church advance in their acquisition of power ! But into wliat dismal convulsions did they throw all Europe, in order to maintain it ! On the other hand, our sectaries, who were formerly such dangerous bigots, are now become our greatest freetliinkcrs ; and the Quakers are perhaps the only regular body of Deists in the universe, except the lite- rati, or disciples of Confucius in China. My second observation with regard to these species of false religion is, that superstition is an enemy to civil liberty, and enthusiasm a friend ly it, &.C. — Editioks a and C. 86 ESSAY X. there are priests to be found : But the stronger mixture there is of superstition, the higher is the avithority of the priesthood. On the other hand, it may be observed, that all en- thusiasts have been free from the yoke of ecclesiastics, and have expressed great independence in their devo- tion, with a contempt of forms, ceremonies, and tradi- tions. The Qiiakers are the most egregious, though, at the same time, the most innocent enthusiasts that have yet been known ; and are perhaps the only sect that have never admitted priests among them. The Independents^ of all the English sectaries, approach nearest to the Qjtuikcrs in fanaticism, and in their free- dom from priestly bondage. The Preshijterians follow after, at an equal distance, in both particulars. In short, this observation is founded in experience ; and will also appear to be founded in reason, if we consi- der, that, as enthusiasm arises from a presumptuous pride and confidence, it thinks itself sufficiently quali- fied to ajjproach the Divinity, without any human me- diator. Its rapturous devotions are so fervent, that it even imagines itself actually to approach him by the way of contemjjlation and inward converse ; which makes it neglect all those outward ceremonies and ob- servances, to which the assistance of the priests appears so re(juisite in the eyes of their superstitious votaries. The fanatic consecrates himself, and iK'stows on his own person a sacred character, much superior to what forms and ceremonious institutions can confer on any other. My second reflection with regard to these species of false religion is, that religio?is "jchich partake of enthu- siasm are, on their first rise, m;re furious and violent than those -jchich partake of superstition ; hut in a little OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 87 time become more gentle and moderate. The violence of this species of religion, when excited by novelty, and animated by opposition, appears from numberless in- stances ; of the Anabaptists in Germany, the Caviisars in France, the Levellers^ and other fanatics in England, and the Covenanters in Scotland. Enthusiasm being founded on strong spirits, and a presumptuous boldness of character, it naturally begets the most extreme re- solutions ; especially after it rises to that height as to inspire the deluded fanatic with the opinion of Divine illuminations, and with a contempt for the common rules of reason, morality, and prudence. It is thus enthusiasm produces the most cruel dis- orders in human society ; but its fury is like that of thunder and tempest, which exhaust themselves in a little time, and leave the air more calm and serene than be- fore. When the first fire of enthusiasm is spent, men naturally, in all fanatical sects, sink into the greatest remissness and coolness in sacred matters ; there being no body of men among them endowed with sufficient authority, whose interest is concerned to support the religious spirit ; no rites, no ceremonies, no holy ob - servances, which may enter into the common train of life, and preserve the sacred principles from oblivion. Superstition, on the contrary, steals in gradually and insensibly; renders men tame and submissive; is ac- ceptable to the magistrate, and seems inoffensive to the people : till at last the priest, having firmly establish- ed his authority, becomes the tyrant and disturber of human society, by his endless contentions, persecu- tions, and religious wars. How smoothly did the Ro- mish church advance in her acquisition of power ! But into what dismal convulsions did she throw all Europe, in order to maintain it ! On the other hand, our sect- 88 ESSAY X. aries, who were formerly such dangerous bigots, are now become very free reasoners; and tlie Quakers seem to approach nearly the only regular body of Deists in the universe, the liicrali, or the disciples of Confucius in China. " My t/u'rd observation on this head is, t/iai supcvsti-' lion is an cnemxj to civil liberty^ and enthusiasm a friend to it. As superstition groans under the dominion of priests, and enthusiasm is destructive of all ecclesiasti- cal power, this sulliciently accounts for the present ob- servation. Not to mention that enthusiasm, beinn; the infirmity of bold and ambitious tempers, is naturally accompanied with a spirit of liberty ; as superstition, on the contrary, renders men tame and abject, and fits them for slavery. We learn from English history, that, during the civil wars, the Independents and Deists^ tliough the most opposite in their religious principles, yet were united in their political ones, and were alike passionate for a commonwealth. And since the origin of Whig and Tory, the leaders of the Whigs have either been Deists or professed Latiiudinarians in their prin- ciples ; that is, friends to toleration, and indifferent to any particular sect of Christians : \\'hile the sectaries, who have all a strong tincture of enthusiasm, have al- ways, without exception, concurred with that party in defence of civil liberty. The resemblance in their su- perstitions long united the High-Church Tories and the Roman Catholics;, in support of prerogative and kingly power; though experience of the tolerating spirit of the /r///g5 seems of late to have reconciled the Ca- tholics to that party. The Molinists and Jansenists in Fiance have a thou^- Tht Cliincsp lilfrati Jmve no priests or ecclesiastical oslaljlishmcnf. OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 89 sand unintelligible disputes, which are not worthy the reflection of a man of sense : But what principally dis- tinguishes these two sects, and alone merits attention, is the diiferent spirit of their religion. The Molinists, conducted by the Jesuits, are great friends to supersti- tion, rigid observers of external forms and ceremonies, and devoted to the authority of the priests, and to tra- dition. The Janscnists are enthusiasts, and zealous promoters of the passionate devotion, and of the in- ward life ; little influenced by authority ; and, in a word, but half Catholics. The consequences ai'e exactly con- formable to the forefjoiufr reasonino;. The Jesuits are the tyrants of the people, and the slaves of the court : And the Jansenists preserve alive the small sparks of the love of liberty which are to be found in the French nation. 90 ESSAY XI. / ESSAY XI. OF THE DIGNllTf OK MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. There are certain sects which secretly form them- selves in the learned world, as well as factions in the pohtical ; and though sometimes they come not to an open rupture, they give a different turn to the ways of thinking of those who have taken part on either side. The most remarkable of this kind are the sects found- ed on the different sentiments with regard to the dig- nity of Imman nahire ; which is a point that seems to have divided philosophers and poets, as well as di- vines, from the beginning of the world to this day. Some exalt our species to the skies, and represent man as a kind of human demigod, who derives his ori- gin from heaven, and retains evident marks of his li- neage and descent. Others insist upon the blind sides of human nature, and can discover nothing, except va- nity, in which man surpasses the other animals, whom lie affects so much to despise. If an author possess the talent of rhetoric and declamation, he commonly takes part with the former: If his turn lie towards irony and ridicule, he naturally throws himself into the other extreme. I am far from thiukiug that all those who have de- preciated our species have been enemies to virtue, and DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 91 have exposed the frailties of their fellow- creatures with any bad intention. On the contrary, I am sensible that a delicate sense of morals, especially when attend- ed with a splenetic temper, is apt to give a man a dis- gust of the world, and to make him consider the com- mon course of human affairs with too much mdigna- tion. I must, however, be of opinion, that the senti- ments of those who are inclined to think favourably of mankind, are more advantageous to virtue than the contrary principles, which give us a mean opinion of our nature. When a man is prepossessed with a high notion of his rank and character in the creation, he will naturally endeavour to act up to it, and will scorn to do a base or vicious action which might sink him below that figure which he makes in his own imagina- tion. Accordingly we find, that all our polite and fa- shionable moralists insist upon this topic, and endea- vour to represent vice unworthy of man, as well as odious in itself. "• We find few disputes that are not founded on some ambiguity in the expression ; and I am persuaded that the present dispute, concerning the dignity or mean- ness of human nature, is not more exempt from it than any other. It may therefore be worth while to consi- der what is real, and what is only verbal, in this con- troversy. That there is a natural difference between merit and demerit, virtue and vice, wisdom and folly, no reason- able man will deny : Yet it is evident that, in affixing the term, which denotes either our approbation or • 9 Women are generally nuicli more flattered in tlieir youtli than men, which may proceed from this reason among others, that their chief point of honour is considered as much more difficult than ours, and requires to be supported by all that decent pride which can be instilled into tliera. Editions A, C, D & N. 92 ESSAY XI. blame, we are commonly more influenced by compari- son than by any fixed unalterable standard in the na- ture of things. In like manner, quantity, and exten- sion, and bulk, are by every one acknowledged to be real things : But when we call any animal great or lit- tle^ we always form a secret comparison between that animal and others of the same species ; and it is that comparison which regulates our judgment concerning its greatness. A dog and a horse may be of the very same size, while the one is admired for the greatness of its bulk, and the other for the smallness. When I am present, therefore, at any dispute, I always consi- der with myself whether it be a question of compari- son or not that is the subject of controversy ; and if it be, whether the disputants compare the same objects together, or talk of things that are widely diiferent. In forming our notions of human nature, we are apt to make a comparison between men and animals, the only creatures endowed with thought that fall under our senses. Certainly this comparison is favourable to mankind. On the one hand, we see a creature whose thoughts are not limited by any narrow bounds, either of place or time ; who carries his researches in- to the most distant regions of this globe, and beyond this globe, to the planets and heavenly bodies ; looks backward to consider the first origin, at least the his- tory of the human race; casts his eye forward to see the influence of his actions upon posterity, and the judgments which will be formed of his character a thousand years hence ; a creature, who traces causes and eflects to a great length and intricacy ; extracts general principles from particular appearances ; im- proves ujjon ills discoveries; corrects his mistakes; aJid makes his very crroi.s profltablc. On the other DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 93 luiiid, we are presented with a creature the very re- verse of this ; limited in its observ^ations and reason- ings to a few sensible objects which surround it; witli- out curiosity, without foresight ; blindly conducted by instinct, and attaining, in a short time, its utmost per- fection, beyond which it is never able to advance a single step. What a wide difference is there between these creatures ! And how exalted a notion must we entertain of the former, in comparison of the latter ! There are two means commonly employed to destroy this conclusion : First, By making an unfair represen- tation of the case, and insisting only upon the weakness of human nature. And, secondhj, By forming a new and secret comparison between man and beings of the most perfect wisdom. Among the other excellences of man, this is one, that he can form an idea of perfec- tions much beyond what he has experience of in him- self; and is not limited in his conception of wisdom and virtue. He can easily exalt his notions, and con- ceive a degree of knowledge, which, when compared to his own, will make the latter appear very contemptible, and will cause the difference between that and the sa- gacity of animals, in a manner, to disappear and va- nish. Now this being a point in which all the world is agreed, that human understanding falls infinitely short of perfect wisdom, it is proper we should know when this comparison takes place, that we may not dis- pute where there is no real difference in our sentiments. Man falls much more short of perfect wisdom, and even of his own ideas of perfect wisdom, than animals do of man ; yet the latter difference is so considerable, that nothing but a comparison with the former can make it appear of little moment. It is also usual to comjmrc one man with another ; 94 ESSAY XI. and fiiKlino- very few whom wc can call "joise or virtuous. we are apt to entertain a contemptible notion of our species in general. That we may be sensible of the fallacy of this way of reasoning, we may observe, that the honourable appellations of wise and virtuous are not annexed to any particular degree of those qualities of wisihm and virtue, but arise altogether from the comparison we nuike between one man and another. When we find a man who arrives at such a pitch of wisdom as is very uncommon, we pronounce him a wise man : So that to say there are few wise men in the world, is really to say nothing ; since it is only by /- their scarcity that they merit that appellation. Were the lowest of our species as wise as TuUy or Lord Ba- con, we should still have reason to say that there are few wise men. For in that case we should exalt our notions of wisdom, and should not pay a singular ho- j. nour to any one who was not singularly distinguished by his talents. In like manner, I have heard it ob- served by thoughtless people, that there are few women possessed of beauty in comparison of those who want it; not considering that we bestow the epithet o^ beau- tiful only on such as possess a degree of beauty that is common to them with a few. The same degree of beauty in a woman is called deformity, which is treated as real beauty in one of our sex. As it is usual, in forming a notion of our species, to compare it with the other species above or below it, or to compare the individuals of the species among them- selves ; so we often compare together the different mo- tives or actuating principles of human nature, in order to regulate our judgment concerning it. And, indeed, this is the only kind of comparison which is worth our attention, or decides any tiling in the present question. DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 95 Were our selfish and vicious principles so much pre- dominant above our social and virlnous, as is asserted by some philosophers, we ought undoubtedly to enter- tain a contemptible notion of human nature. ^ " There is much of a dispute of words in all this con- troversy. * ' When a man denies the sincerity of all public spirit or affection to a country and community, I am at a loss what to think of him. Perhaps he never felt this passion in so clear and distinct a manner as to remove all his doubts concerning its force and reality. But when he proceeds afterwards to reject all private fi'icndship, if no interest or self-love intermix itself; I am then confident that he abuses terms, and confounds the ideas of things ; since it is impossible for any one to be so selfish, or rather so stupid, as to make no dif- ference between one man and another, and give no pre- ference to qualities which engage his approbation and esteem. Is he also, say I, as insensible to anger as he pretends to be to friendship? And does injury and wrong no more affect him than kindness or benefits ? Impos- sible : He does not know himself: He has forgotten the movements of his heart ; or rather, he makes use of a different language from the rest of his country- men, and calls not things by their proper names. What say you of natural affection? (I subjoin), Is that also I o I may perhaps treat more fully of this subject in some future Es- say. In the mean time I shall observe, what has been proved beyond question by several great moralists of the present age, that the social passions are by far the most powerful of any, and that even all the other passions receive from them their chief force and influence. Wlioever desires to see this question treated at large, with the greatest force of ar- gument and eloquence, may consult my Lord Shaftsbury's Enquiry con- cerning Virtue. — Editions A, C, D, N. * ' This passage is not in tlie early editions. It is found in Edi- tion N. !3C ESSAY XI. a species of self-love ? Yes ; all is self-love. Your children are loved only because they are yours : Your friend for a like reason: And 7/our country engages you only so far as it has a connexion with yourself': Were the idea of self removed, nothing would affect you : You would be altogether unactive and insensible: Or, if you ever give yourself any movement, it would only be from vanity, and a desire of fame and reputa- tion to this same self. I am willing, reply I, to receive your interpretation of human actions, provided you admit the facts. That species of self-love which dis- plays itself in kindness to others, you must allow to have great influence over human actions, and even greater, on many occasions, than that which remains in its original shape and form. For how few are there, having a family, children, and relations, who do not spend more on the maintenance and education of these than on their own pleasures ? This, indeed, you justly observe, may proceed from their self-love, since the prosperity of their family and friends is one, or the chief, of their pleasures, as well as their chief honour. Be you also one of these selfish men, and you are sure of every one's good opinion and good will ; or, not to shock your ears with these expressions, the self-love of every one, and mine among the rest, will then, incline us to serve you, and speak well of you. In my opinion, there are two things which have led astray those philosophers that have insisted so much on the selfishness of man. In ihejirsi place, they found that every act of virtue or friendship was attended with a secret pleasure; whence they concluded, that friend- ship and virtue could not be disinterested. But the fallacy of this is obvious. The virtuous sentiment or passion produces the pleasure, and doe^ not arise from DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 97 it. I feel a pleasure in doing good to my friend^ be- cause I love him ; but do not love him for the sake of that pleasure. In the second place, it has always, been found, that the virtuous are far from being indifferent to praise ; and therefore they have been represented as a set of vain-glorious men, who had nothing in view but the ap- plauses of others. But this also is a fallacy. It is very unjust in the world, when they find any tincture of faulty in a laudable action, to depreciate it upon that account, or ascribe it entirely to that motive. The case is not the same with vanity, as with other passions. Where avarice or revenge enters into any seemingly virtuous action, it is difficult for us to determine how far it enters, and it is natural to suppose it the sole ac- tuating principle. But vanity is so closely allied to virtue, and to love the fame of laudable actions ap- proaches so near the love of laudable actions for their own sake, that these passions are more capable of mix- ture, than any other kinds of affection; and it is almost impossible to have the latter •without some degree of the former. Accordingly we find, that this passion for glory is always warped and varied according to the particular taste or disposition of the mind on which it falls. Nero had the same vanity in driving a chariot, that Trajan had in governing the empire with justice and ability. To love the glory of virtuous deeds is a sure proof of the love of virtue. VOL. ITT. G 98 ESSAY xir. ESSAY XII. OF CIVIL LIBERTY. ^^ Those who employ their pens on pohtical subjects, free from party-rage, and part3'-prejudices, cultivate a science, which, of all others, contributes most to pub- lic utility, and even to the private satisfaction of those who addict themselves to the study of it. I am apt, however, to entertain a suspicion, that the world is still too young to fix many general truths in politics, which will remain true to the latest posterity. We have not as yet had experience of three thousand years ; so that not only the art of reasoning is still imperfect in this science, as in all others, but we even want sufficient materials upon which we can reason. It is not fully known what degree of refinement, either in virtue or vice, human nature is susceptible of, nor what may be expected of mankind from any great revolution in their education, customs or principles. Machiavel was cer- tainly a great genius ; but, having confined his study to the furious and tyrannical governments of ancient times, or to the little disorderly principalities of Italy, his rea- sonings, especially u])on monarchical government, have i » In Editions A, C, and D, this Essay is entitled, ' Of Liberty and Despotism, ' OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 99 been found extremely defective ; and tliere scarcely is any maxim in his Prince which subsequent experience has not entirely refuted. ' A weak prince, ' says he, ' is incapable of receiving good counsel ; for, if he con- sult with several, he will not be able to choose among their different counsels. If he abandon himself to one, that minister may perhaps have capacity, but he will not long be a minister. He will be sure to dispossess his master, and place himself and his family upon the throne. ' I mention this, among many instances of the errors of that politician, proceeding, in a great mea- sure, from his having lived in too early an age of the world, to be a good judge of political truth. Almost all the princes of Europe are at present governed by their ministers, and have been so for near two centu- ries J and yet no such event has ever happened, or can possibly happen. Sejanus might project dethroning the Cassars, but Fleury, though ever so vicious, could not, while in his senses, entertain the least hopes of dispossessing the Bourbons. Trade was never esteemed an affair of state till the last century ; and there scarcely is any ancient writer on politics who has made mention of it. "" Even the Italians have kept a profound silence with regard to it, though it has now engaged the chief attention, as well of ministers of state, as of speculative reasoners. The great opulence, grandeur, and military achievements of the two maritime powers, seem first to have instructed mankind in the importance of an extensive commerce. Having therefore intended, in this Essay, to make a full comparison of civil liberty and absolute government, " Xenophon mentions it, but with a doubt if it be of any advantage to a state. Ei tTt xai £/*jropi'a ofixu rt TToKiv, &c. Xen. Hiero. — Plato totally excludes it from his imaginary republic. De Legibus, lib. iv. g2 100 ESSAY XII. and to sliow the great advantages of the former above the latter ; ^ ' I began to entertain a suspicion that no man in this age was sufficiently qualified for such an undertaking, and that, whatever any one should ad- vance on that head, would in all probability be refuted by further experience, and be rejected by posterity. Such mighty revolutions have happened in human af- fairs, and so many events have arisen contrary to the expectation of the ancients, that they are sufficient to beget the suspicion of still further changes. It had been observed by the ancients, that all the arts and sciences arose among free nations ; and that the Persians and Egyptians, notwithstanding their ease, opulence, and luxury, made but faint efforts towards a relish in those finer pleasures, which were carried to such perfection by the Greeks, amidst continual wars, attended with poverty, and the greatest simplicity of life and manners. It had also been observed, that, when the Greeks lost their liberty, though they in- creased mightily in riches by means of the conquests of Alexander, yet the arts, from that moment, declined among them, and have never since been able to raise their head in that climate. Learning was transplanted to Rome, the only free nation at that time in the uni- verse ; and having met with so favourable a soil, it made prodigious shoots for above a century ; till the decay of liberty produced also the decay of letters, and spread a total barbarism over the world. From these two ex- periments, of which each was double in its kind, and showed the fall of learning in absolute governments, as well as its rise in popular ones, Longinus thought him- 1 3 « The ac'.vantages and disadvantages of cacli.' — Editions A, C, D. OF CIVIL LIBERTY. lOl self sufficiently justified in asserting, that the arts and sciences could never flourish but in a free government : And in this opinion he has been followed by several eminent writers "" in our own country, who either con- fined their view merely to ancient facts, or entertained too great a partiality in favour of that form of govern- ment established among us. But what would these writers have said to the in- stances of modern Rome and Florence ? Of which the former carried to perfection all the finer arts of sculp- ture, painting, and music, as well as poetry, though it groaned under tyranny, and under the tyranny of priests : While the latter made its chief progress iu the arts and sciences after it began to lose its liberty by the usurpation of the family of Medici. Ariosto, Tasso, Galileo, no more than Raphael or Michael Angelo, were not born in republics. And though the Lombard school was famous as well as the Roman, yet the Venetians have had the smallest share in its ho- nours, and seem rather inferior to the other Italians in their genius for the arts and sciences. Rubens esta- blished his school at Antwerp, not at Amsterdam. Dresden, not Hamburgh, is the centre of politeness in Germany. But the most eminent instance of the flourishing of learning in absolute governments is that of France, v^'hich scarcely ever enjoyed any established liberty, and yet has carried the arts and sciences as near per- fection as any other nation. The English are, per- haps, greater philosophers ; ^ '^ the Italians better paint- ers and musicians ; the Romans were greater orators : But the French are the only people, except the Greeks, ^ Mr Addison and Lord Shaftesbury. »4 (N. B. This was published in 1712. '— EmiioN N, 102 ESSAY XII. who have been at once pliilosophers, poets, orators, liistorians, painters, architects, sculptors, and musi- cians. M^ith regard to the stage, they have excelled even the Greeks, who far excelled the English. And, in common life, they have, in a great measure, perfect- ed that art, the most useful and agreeable of any, VArt de FiiTCy the art of society and conversation. If we consider the state of the sciences and polite arts in our own country, Horace's observation, with regard to the Romans, may in a great measure be ap- plied to the British. Set! in longum tamen aevum Manserunt, hodieque manent vestigia ruris. The elegance and jiropriety of style have been very much neglected among us. We have no dictionary of our language, and scarcely a tolerable grammar. The first polite prose we have was writ by a man who is still alive. * As to Sprat, Locke, and even Temple, they knew too little of the rules of art to be esteemed elegant writers. The prose of Bacon, Harrington, and Milton, is altogether stiff and pedantic, though their sense be excellent. Men, in this country, have been so much occupied in the great disputes of Religion, Politics, and Philosophy, that they had no relish for the seemingly minute observations of grammar and criticism. And, though this turn of thinking must have considerably improved our sense and our talent of reasoning, it must be confessed, that even in those sciences above mentioned, we have not any standard book which we can transmit to posterity: And the ut- most we have to boast of, are a few essays towards a more just philosophy, which indeed promise well, but liave not as yet reached any degree of perfection. ' Dr Swift. OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 103 It has become an established opinion, that commerce can never flourish but in a free government ; and this opinion seems to be founded on a longer and larger experience than the foregoing, with regard to the arts and sciences. If we trace commerce in its progress through Tyre, Athens, Syracuse, Carthage, Venice, Florence, Genoa, Antwerp, Holland, England, &c. we shall always find it to have fixed its seat in free go- vernments. The three greatest trading towns now in Europe, are London, Amsterdam, and Hamburgh ; all free cities, and Protestant cities; that is, enjoying a double liberty. It must, however, be observed, that the great jealousy entertained of late with regard to the commerce of France, seems to prove that this maxim is no more certain and infallible than the foregoing, and that the subjects of an absolute prince may become our rivals in commerce as well as in learning. Durst I deliver my opinion in an affair of so much uncertainty, I would assert, that notwithstanding the efforts of the French, there is something hurtful to com- merce inherent in the very nature of absolute govern- ment, and inseparable from it; though the reason I should assign for this opinion is somewhat different from that which is commonly insisted on. Private property seems to me almost as secure in a civilized European monarchy as in a republic ; nor is danger much appre- hended, in such a government, from the violence of the sovereign, more than we commonly dread harm from thunder, or earthquakes, or any accident the most un- usual and extraordinary. Avarice, the spur of indus- try, is so obstinate a passion, and works its way through so many real dangers and difficulties, that it is not like- ly to be scared by an imaginary danger, which is so small, that it scarcely admits of calculation. Commerce, lOi ESSAY XI I. therefore, in my opinion, is apt to decay in absolute governments, not because it is there less secure, but be- cause it is less honourable. A subordination of rank is absolutely necessary to the support of monarchy. Birth, titles and place, must be honoured above industry and riches ; and while these notions prevail, all the consi^ derable traders will be tempted to throw up their commerce, in order to purchase some of those env ployments, to which privileges and honours are an- nexed. Since I am upon this head, of the alterations which time has produced, or may produce in politics, I must observe, that all kinds of government, free and abso- lute, seem to have undergone, in modern times, a great change for the better, with regard both to foreign and domestic management. The balance of j:)ower is a se- cret in politics, fully known only to the present age ; and I must add, that the internal police of states has also received great improvements within the last cen- tury. We are informed by Sallust, that Catiline's army was much augmented by the accession of the highway- men about Rome ; though I believe, that all of that profession who are at present dispersed over Europe would not amount to a regiment. In Cicero's pleadings for Milo, I find this argument, among others, made use of to prove that his client had not assassinated Clo- dius. Hud Milo, said he, intended to have killed Clo- dius, he had not attacked him in the day-time, and at such a distance from the city : He had waylaid him at niglit, near the suburbs, where it might have been pre- tended that he was killed by robbers ; and the frequen- cy of the accident would have favoured the deceit. This is a surprising proof of the loose policy of Rome, and of the number and force of these robbers, since or CIVIL LIBERTY. 105 Cloclliis * was at that time attended by thirty shives, who were completely armed, and sufliciently accustom- ed to blood and danger in the frequent tumults excited by that seditious tribune. But though all kinds of governmentbe improved in mo- dern times, yet monarchical government seems to liave made the greatest advances towards perfection. It may now be affirmed of civilized monarchies, what was for- merly said in praise of republics alone, that they are a government of I^axzs^ not of Men. They are found sus- ceptible of order, method, and constancy, to a surpris- ing degree. Property is there secure, industry en- couraged, the arts flourish, and the prince lives se- cure among his subjects, like a father among his children. There are, perhaps, and have been for two centuries, near two hundred absolute princes, great and small, in Europe ; and allowing twenty years to each reign, we may suppose, that there have been in the whole two thousand monarchs, or tyrants, as the Greeks would have called them ; yet of these there has not been one, not even Philip II. of Spain, so bad as Tiberius, Caligula, Nero, or Domitian, who were four in twelve among the Roman emperors. It must, however, be confessed, that though monarchical governments have a})proached nearer to popular ones in gentleness and stability, they are still inferior. Our modern education and customs instil more humanity and moderation than the ancient ; but have not as yet been able to overcome entirely the disadvantages of that form of government. But here I must beg leave to advance a conjecture, which seems probable, but wliich posterity alone can * Vide Asc. Ped, in Oiat. pro Miluue. 106 ESSAY XII. fully judge of. I am apt to think, that in monarchical governments there is a source of improvement, and in })opular governments a source of degenei'acy, which in time will bring these species of civil polity still nearer an equality. The greatest abuses which arise in France, the most perfect model of pure monarcliy, proceed not from the number or weight of the taxes, beyond what are to be met with in free countries ; but from the ex- pensive, unequal, arbitrary, and intricate method of levying them, by which the industry of the poor, espe- cially of the peasants and farmers, is in a great measure discouraged, and agriculture rendered a beggarly and slavish employment. But to whose advantage do these abuses tend ? If to that of the nobility, they might be esteemed inherent in that form of government, since the nobility are the true supports of monarchy ; and it is natural their interest should be more consulted in such a constitution, than that of the people. But the nobility are, in reality, the chief losers by this oppres- sion, since it ruins their estates, and beggars their te- nants. The only gainers by it are the Financiers ; a race of men rather odious to the nobility and the whole kingdom. If a prince or minister, therefore, should arise, endowed with sufficient discernment to know his own and the public interest, and with sufficient force of minil to break through ancient customs, we might ex- pect to see these abuses remedied ; in which case, the difference between that absolute government and our free one would not appear so considerable as at present. The source of degeneracy which may be remarked in free governments, consists in the practice of contracting debt, and mortgaging the public revenues, by which taxes may, in time, become altogether intolerable, and all the proj)erty of the state be brought into the hands OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 1 OT of the public. This practice is of modern date. The Athenians, though governed by a repubhc, paid near two hundred per cent, for those sums of money which any emergence made it necessary for them to borrow ; as we learn from Xenophon. '^ Among the moderns, the Dutch first introduced the practice of borrowing great sums at low interest, and have well nigh ruined themselves by it. Absolute princes have also contract- ed debt ; but as an absolute prince may make a bank- ruptcy when he pleases, his people can never be op- pressed by his debts. In popular governments, the people, and chiefly those who have the highest offices, being commonly the public creditors, it is difficult for the state to make use of this remedy, which, however it may sometimes be necessary, is always cruel and bar- barous. This, therefore, seems to be an inconvenience which nearly threatens all free governments, especially our own, at the present juncture of affairs. And what a strong motive is this to increase our frugality of pub- lic money, lest, for want of it, we be reduced, by the multiplicity of taxes, or, what is worse, by our public impotence and inability for defence, to curse our very liberty, and v.ish ourselves in the same state of servi- tude with all the nations who surround us ? * Kt»)»"«v OS cfK Koevo? CSV viu x.xX>iv xT*i<7-envre u<j-!rip cctp cv k* ■^ovTxi Kxr' ItrnvTov i) oc-x kv i'i(riviyxu<nv. 0< yu^ f^vav 7s-^oTi>iiTuy- T6J, iyyvi ^vo7f fivxTv TrpoTeaofi i^aiT-i — Oooku rZv av^^oirty^v </,iy(p«iXi' Tenon n Kxi 7roXv^^o*ia)TXT»y uvon, HEN. nOPOI. 108 ESSAY XIII. ESSAY XIII. OF ELOQUENCE. 1'hose wlio consider the periods and revolutions of human kind, as represented in history, are entertained with a spectacle full of pleasure and variety, and see with surprise the manners, customs, and opinions of the same species susceptible of such prodigious changes in different periods of time. It may, however, be ob- served, that, in civil history, there is found a much greater uniformity than in the history of learning and science, and that the wars, negociations, and politics of one age, resemble more those of another than the taste, wit, and speculative principles. Interest and ambition, lionour and shame, friendship and enmity, gratitude and revenge, are the prime movers in all public trans- actions ; and these passions are of a very stubborn and untractable nature, in comparison of the sentiments and understanding, which are easily varied by educa- tion and example. The Goths were much more infe- rior to the Romans in taste and science than in cou- rage and virtue. But not to compare together nations so widely dif- ferent, it may be observed, that even this latter period of liuman learning is, in many respects, of an opposite cliaracter to the ancient ; and that, if we be superior in OF ELOQUENCE. 109 philosophy, we are still, notwithstanding all our refine- ments, much inferior in eloquence. In ancient times, no work of genius was thought to require so great parts and capacity as the speaking in public ; and some eminent writers have pronounced the talents even of a great poet or philosopher to be of an inferior nature to those which are requisite for such an undertaking. Greece and Rome produced, each of them, but one accomplished orator ; and, whatever praises the other celebrated speakers might merit, they were still esteemed much inferior to those great models of eloquence. It is observable, that the ancient critics could scarcely find two orators in any age who deserv- ed to be placed precisely in the same rank, and possess- ed the same degree of merit. Calvus, Cajlius, Curio, Hortensius, Caesar, rose one above another : But the greatest of that age was inferior to Cicero, the most elo- quent speaker that had ever appeared in Rome. Those of fine taste, howevei', pronounced this judgment of the Roman orator, as well as of the Grecian, that both of them surpassed in eloquence all that had ever appear- ed, but that they were far from reaching the perfection of their art, which was infinite, and not only exceeded human force to attain, but human imagination to con- ceive. Cicero declares himself dissatisfied with his own performances, nay, even with those of Demosthe- nes, lia sunt avidce et capaces mece mires, says he, et semper aliquid inwiefisum, injinitumqiie desidcrant. Of all the polite and learned nations, England a- lone possesses a popular government, or admits in- to the legislature such numerous assemblies as can be supposed to lie under the dominion of elo- quence. But what has England to boast of in this particular ? In enumerating the great men who have 110 ESSAY XIII. clone honour to our country, we exult in our poets and pliilosophers ; but what orators are ever mention- ed ? or where are the monuments of their genius to be met with ? There are found, indeed, in our histories, the names of several, who directed the resolutions of our parliament : But neither themselves nor others have taken the pains to preserve their speeches : and the authority, which they possessed, seems to have been owing to their experience, wisdom, or power, more than to their talents for oratory. At present there are above half a dozen speakers in the two Houses, who, in the judgment of the public, have reached very near the same pitch of eloquence ; and no man pretends to give any one the preference above the rest. This seems to me a certain proof, that none of them have attained much beyond a mediocrity in their art, and that the species of elocjuence, which they aspire to, gives no exercise to the sublimer faculties of the mind, but may be reached by ordinary talents and a slight applica- tion. A hundred cabinet-makers in London can work a table or a chair equally well ; but no one poet can write verses with such spirit and elegance as Mr Pope. We are told, that, when Demosthenes was to plead, all ingenious men flocked to Athens from the most re- mote parts of Greece, as to the most celebrated spec- tacle of the world. ^ At London, you may see men sauntering in the court of requests, while the most im- portant debate is carrying on in the two Houses ; and many do not think themselves sufficiently compensated Ne illud fjiiidem iiUflligmit, iion rnodo ita ineinoriae proditum esse, sed ita necesse fuisse, cum Demosthenes dicturus esset, ut concursus, audicndi causa, ex tola Graecia fierent. At cum isti Attici dicunt, non modo a corona (quod est ipsum miserabile) sed etiam ab advocatis relin- quuntur. — Cicero de Claris Oralorilnis. or ELQOUENCE. IH for the losing of their dinners, by all the eloquence of our most celebrated speakers. Wlien old Cibber is to act, the curiosity of several is more excited, than when our prime minister is to defend himself from a motion for his removal or impeachment. Even a person, unacquainted with thenoble remains of ancient orators, may judge, from a few strokes, that the style or species of their eloquence was infinitely more sublime than that which modern orators aspire to. How absurd would it appear, in our temperate and calm speakers, to make use of an Apostrophe^ like that noble one of Demosthenes, so much celebrated by Quhitilian and Longinus, when, justifying the unsuc- cessful battle of Chaeronea, he breaks out, ' No, my fellow- citizens. No: You have not erred. I swear by the manes of those heroes, who fought for the same cause in the plains of Marathon and Plataea. ' Who could now endure such a bold and poetical figure as that which Cicero employs, after describing, in the most tragical terms, the crucifixion of a Roman citizen ? ' Should I paint the horrors of this scene, not to Roman citizens, not to the allies of our state, not to those who have ever heard of the Roman name, not even to men, but to brute creatures ; or, to go farther, should I lift up my voice in the most desolate solitude, to the rocks and mountains, yet should I surely see those rude and inanimate parts of nature moved with horror and indig- nation at the recital of so enormous an action. ' ^ With ^ The original is : ' Quod si haec non ad cives Romanos, non ad ali- quos amicos nostrae civitatis, non ad eos qui populi lloinani nomen au- dissent; denique, si non ad homines, verum ad bestias; aut etiara, ut longius progrediar, si in aliqua desertissima solitudine, ad saxa et ad sco- pulos haec conqueri et deplorare velleni, tamen omnia muta atque ina- nima, tanta et tam indigna rerum atrocitate connnoverentur Cic. in Fer. 112 ESSAY XIII. what a blaze of eloquence must such a sentence be sur- rounded to give it grace, or cause it to make any im- pression !on the liearers ! And what noble art and sublime talents are requisite to arrive, by just degrees, at a sentiment so bold and excessive ! To inflame the audience, so as to make them accompany the speaker in such violent passions, and such elevated conceptions ; and to conceal, under a torrent of eloquence, the arti- fice by which all this is effectuated ! Should this sen- timent even appear to us excessive, as perhaps justly it may, it will at least serve to give an idea of the style of ancient eloquence, where such swelling expressions were not rejected as wholly monstrous and gigantic. Suitable to this vehemence of thought and expression, was the vehemence of action, observed in the ancient orators. The supplosio pedis^ or stamping with the foot, was one of the most usual and moderate gestures which they made use of; " though that is now esteemed too violent, either for the senate, bar, or pulpit, and is only admitted into the theatre to accompany the most violent passions which are there represented. One is somewhat at a loss to what cause we may ascribe so sensible a decline of eloquence in latter ages. The genius of mankind, at all times, is perhaps equal : The moderns have applied themselves, with great in- dusti-y and success, to all the other arts and sciences : And a learned nation possesses a popular government; a circumstance which seems requisite for the full dis- play of these noble talents : But notwithstanding all * Ul)i dolor? Ubi ardor aniini, qui ctiam ox inf'antium iiigeniis cliccre vocfs ft querelas solet ? nulla perturbatio animi, nulla corporis; frons non percussa, iion femur; pedis ((juod minimum est J nulla supplosio. Itaque tantum abfuit ut inflammares nostros animos ; somnum isto loco Tix tencbamus. — Cicero de Claris Oruloribus. OF ELOOUENCK. 113 tliese advantages, our progress in eloquence is very in- considerable, in comparison of the advances which we have made in all other parts of learning. Shall we assert, that the strains of ancient eloquence are unsuitable to our age, and ought not to be imitated by modern orators ? Whatever reasons may be made use of to prove this, I am persuaded they will be found, upon examination, to be unsound and unsatisfactory. First, It may be said, that, in ancient times, during the flourishing period of Greek and Roman learning, the municipal laws, in every state, w^ere but few and simple, and the decision of causes was, in a great mea- sure, left to the equity and common sense of the judges. The study of the laws was not then a laborious occupa- tion, requiring the drudgery of a whole life to finish it, and incompatible with every other study or profession. The great statesmen and generals among the Romans were all lawyers ; and Cicero, to show the facility of acquiring this science, declares, that in the midst of all his occupations, he would undertake, in a few days, to make himself a complete civilian. Now, where a plead- er addresses himself to the equity of his judges, he has much more room to display his eloquence, than where he must draw his arguments from strict laws, statutes, and precedents. In the former case many circumstan- ces must be taken in, many personal considerations re- garded, and even favour and inclination, which it be- longs to the orator, by his art and eloquence, to conci- liate, may be disguised under the appearance of equity. But how shall a modern lawyer have leisure to quit his toilsome occupations, in order to gather the flowers of Parnassus ? Or what opportunity shall he have of displaying them, amidst the rigid and subtile argu- ments, objections and replies, which he is obliged to VOL. III. II 114 ESSAY xiir. make use of? The greatest genius, and greatest orator, who should pretend to plead before the Chancellor, af- ter a month's study of the laws, would only labour to make himself I'idiculous. I am ready to own, that this circumstance, of the multiplicity and intricacy of laws, is a discouragement to eloquence in modern times: But I assert, that it will not entirely account for the decline of that noble art. It may banish oratory from Westminster-Hall, but not from either house of Parliament. Among the Athenians, the Areopagites expressly forbade all allure- ments of eloquence ; and some have pretended, that in the Greek orations, written in i\\Q judiciary ^orm, there is not so bold and rhetorical a style as appears in the Roman. But to what a pitch did the Athenians carry their eloquence in the deliberative kind, when affairs of state were canvassed, and the liberty, happiness, and lionour of the republic, were the subject of debate ! Disputes of this nature elevate the genius above all others, and give the fullest scope to eloquence; and such disputes are very frequent in this nation. Secondly, It may be pretended, that the decline of eloquence is owing to the superior good sense of the moderns, who reject with disdain all those rhetorical tricks employed to seduce the judges, and will admit of nothing but solid argument in any debate of delibera- tion. If a man be accused of murder, the fact must be proved by witnesses and evidence, and the laws will afterwards determine the punishment of the criminal. It would be ridiculous to describe, in strong colours, the horror and cruelty of the action ; to introduce the relations of the dead, and, at a signal, make them tlirow themselves at the feet of the judges, imploring justice, with tears and lamentations : And still more OF ELOQUENCE. 115 ridiculous would it be, to enijiloy a picture represent- ing the bloody deed, in order to move the judges by the display of so tragical a spectacle, though we know that this artifice was sometimes practised by the plead- ers of old. * Now, banish the pathetic from public discourses, and you reduce the speakers merely to mo- dern eloquence ; that is, to good sense, delivered in proper expressions. Perhaps it may be acknowledged, that our modern customs, or our superior good sense, if you will, should make our orators more cautious and reserved than the ancient, in attempting to inflame the passions, or ele- vate the imagination of their audience : But I see no reason why it should make them despair absolutely of succeeding in that attempt. It should make them re- double their art, not abandon it entirely. The ancient orators seem also to have been on their guard against this jealousy of their audience ; but they took a different way of eluding it. " They hurried away with such a torrent of sublime and pathetic, that they left their hearers no leisure to perceive the artifice by which they were deceived. Nay, to consider the matter aright, they were not deceived by any artifice. The orator, by the force of his own genius and eloquence, first in- flamed himself with anger, indignation, pit}^, sorrow ; and then communicated those impetuous movements to his audience. Does any man pretend to have more good sense than Julius Caesar ? yet that haughty conqueror, we know, was so subdued by the charms of Cicero's elo- quence, that he was, in a manner, constrained to change his settled purpose and resolution, and to absolve a QuiNTiL. lib. vi. cap. 1. ^ Longinis, cap. 15. H 2 116 ESSAY XIIT. criminal, wliom, before that orator pleaded, he was de- termined to condemn. "•^ Some objections, I own, notwithstanding his vast success, may lie against some passages of the Roman orator. lie is too florid and rhetorical : His figures are too striking and palpable : The divisions of his discourse are drawn chiefly from the rules of the schools : And his wit disdains not always the artifice even of a pun, rhyme, or jingle of words. The Gre- cian addressed himself to an audience much less refin- ed than the Roman senate or judges. The lowest vul- gar of Athens were his sovereigns, and the arbiters of his eloquence. " Yet is his manner more chaste and austere than that of the other. Could it be copied, its success would be infallible over a modern assembly. It is rapid harmony, exactly adjusted to the sense : It is vehement reasoning, without any appearance of art: It is disdain, anger, boldness, freedom, involved in a continued stream of argument: And, of all human pro- ductions, the orations of Demosthenes present to us the models which approach the nearest to perfection. T/ihf/lij, It may be pretended, that the disorders of the ancient frovernments, and the enormous crimes of which the citizens were often guilty, afforded much * J This passage is not in the first Editions, it occurs in Edition N. " The orators formed tlie taste of the Athenian people, not the people of the orators. Gorgias Lcontinus was very taking with them, till they became acrjuainted with a bettor manner. His figures of speech says Diodorus Siculus, liis antitliesis, his la-oy.nKoc, his o/hoito^ivtov, wliich are now despised, had a great effect upon tlie audience. lAh. xii. p. lOG- ex edilione llliod. It is in vain, therefore, for modern orators to plead the taste of their hearers as an apology for their lame ])crformances. It would be strange prejudice in favour of antiquity, not to allow a British Parliament to be naturally superior in judgment and delicacy to an A- thenian mob. OF ELOj^UENCE. 1 IT ampler matter for eloquence than can be met with among tlie moderns. Were there no Verres or Cati- line, there would be no Cicero. But that this reason can have no great influence, is evident. It would be easy to find a Philip in modern times, but where shall we find a Demosthenes ? What remains, then, but that we lay the blame on the want of genius, or of judgment, in our speakers, who either found themselves incapable of reaching the heights of ancient eloquence, or rejected all such en- deavours, as unsuitable to the spirit of modern assem- blies ? A few successful attempts of this nature might rouse the genius of the nation, excite the emulation of the youth, and accustom our ears to a more sublime and more pathetic elocution, than what we have been hitherto entertained with. There is certainly some- thing accidental in the first rise and progress of the arts in any nation. I doubt whether a very satisfactory reason can be given why ancient Rome, though it re- ceived all its refinements from Greece, could attain only to a relish for statuary, painting, and architecture, without reaching the practice of these arts : Wliile mo- dern Rome has been excited by a few remains found among the ruins of antiquity, and has produced artists of the greatest eminence and distinction. - " Had such a cultivated genius for oratory, as Waller's for poetry, arisen during the civil wars, when liberty began to be fully established, and popular assemblies to enter into all the most material points of government, I am per- suaded so illustrious an example would have given a quite different turn to British eloquence, and made us » 6 In the early editions the sentence runs thus. Had such a culti- vated genius «s mi/ Lord Bolin^biokc arisen during the civil wars, &c. &c. 118 ESSAY XIII. reach the perfection of the ancient model. Our ora- tors would then have done honour to their country, as well as our poets, geometers, and philosophers ; and British Ciceros have appeared, as well as British Ar- chimedeses and \'ir<>ils. - " 1 7 I have confessed that there is something accidental in the origin and progress of the arts in any nation ; and yet I cannot forbear thinking, that if the other learned and polite nations of Europe had possessed the same arlvantages of a popular government, they would probably have carried eloquence to a greater height than it has yet readied in Britain. Tlie rrencli sermons, especially those of Flechier and Bourdaloue, are nnicli superior to the English in this particular; and in Flechier there are many strokes of the most sublime poetry. His funeral sermon on tlie Marechal de Turennc, is a good instance None but private causes in tliat country, are ever debated before their Parliament or Courts of Judicature ; but, notwithstanding this disadvantage, there appears a spirit of eloquence in many of their lawyers, wliich, with proper cultivation and encouragement, might rise to the greatest heights. The pleadings of Patru are very elegant, and give us room to imagine what so fine a genius could have ])erformed in questions concerning public liberty or slavery, peace or war, wlio exerts himself with such success, in debates concerning the price of an old horse, or the gossiping story of a quarrel betwixt an abbess and her nuns. For it is remarkable, that this polite writer, though esteemed by all the men of wit in his time, was never em])Ioyed in tlie most considerable causes of their courts of judicature, but lived and died in poverty ; from an ancient prejudice industriously propagated by the Dunces in all countries, J'hat a vtan of genius is unfit for biiainess. The disorders produced by the ministry of Cardinal Ma- zarine, made the Parliament, of Paris enter into the discussion of public affairs; and during tliat short interval, there appeared many symptoms of tlie revival of ancient eloquence. Tlie Avocat- General, Talon, in an oration, invoked on his knees the spirit of St Louis to look down with compassion on his divided and uiihai)i)y jieoijle, and to inspire tliem, from above, willi tlie love of concord and uiiaiiiniity. * The members of the French Academy have attempted to give us models of eloquence in their harangues at their admittance ; but having no sulyect to discourse upon, tliey have run altogetlier into a fulsome strain of panegyric and flattery. De Ketz's Memoirs. OF ELOQUENCE. 119 It is seldom or never found, when a false taste in poetry or eloquence prevails among any people, that it lias been preferred to a true, upon comparison and re- flection. It commonly prevails merely from ignorance of the true, and from the want of perfect models to lead men into a juster apprehension, and more refined re- lish of those productions of genius. When these ap- pear, they soon unite all suffrages in their favour, and, by their natural and powerful charms, gain over even the most barren of all subjects. Their style, however, is commonly, on these occasions, very elevated and sublime, and might reach the greatest heiglits, were it employed on a subject more favourable and engaging. There are some circumstances in the English temper and genius, which arc disadvantageous to the progress of eloquence, and render all attempts of that kind more dangerous and difficult among them, than among any other nation in the universe. The English are conspicuous for good sense, which makes them very jealous of any attempts to deceive them, by the flowers of rhetoric and elocution. They are also peculiarly mo- dest ; which makes them consider it as a piece of arrogance to offer any thing but reason to public assemblies, or attempt to guide theiri by pas- sion or fancy. I may, perhaps, be allowed to add, that the people in general are not remarkable for delicacy of taste, or for sensibility to the charms of the Muses. Their musical parts, to use the expression of a noble author, are but indifferent. Hence their comic poets, to move them, must have recourse to obscenity; their tragic poets to blood and slaughter. And hence, their orators, being deprived of any such resource, have abandoned altogether the hopes of moving them, and have confined tliemselves to plain argument and reasoning. These circumstances, joined to particular accidents, may, perhaps, have retarded the growth of eloquence in this kingdom ; but will not be able to prevent its success, if ever it appear amongst us. And one may safely pronounce, that this is a field in which the most flourishins^ laurels may yet be gathered, if any youth of accomplished genius, thoroughly acquainted with all the polite arts, and not ignorant of public business, should appear in Parliament, and accustom our ears to an eloquence more commanding and pathetic. And to confirm me in this opinion there occur two considerations, the one derived from ancient, the other from modern times. 120 ESSAY Kill. the most prejiulicetl to the love and adniiration of them. The principles of every passion, and of every sentiment, is in every man ; and, when touched properl}', they rise to life, and warm the heart, and convey that satisfac- tion, by which a work of o;enius is distinfjuishcd from the adulterate beauties of a capricious wit and fancy. And, if this observation be true, with repjard to all the liberal arts, it must be peculiarly so with regard to eloquence ; which, beini^ merely calculated for the public, and for men of the world, cannot, with any pretence of reason, appeal from the peo})le to more re- fined judges, but must submit to the public verdict without reserve or limitation. Whoever, upon com- parison, is deemed by a common audience the greatest orator, ought most certainly to be pronounced such by men of science and erudition. And thoujrh an indif- ferent speaker may triumph for a long time, and be esteemed altogether perfect by the vulgar, who are sa- tisfied with his accomplishments, and know not in what he is defective ; yet, whenever the true genius arises, he draws to him the attentioji of every one, and immedi- ately appears superior to his rival. Now, to judge by this rule, ancient eloquence, that is, the sublime and passionate, is of a much juster taste than the modern, or the ai'gumentative and rational , and, if properly executed, will always have more com- mand and authority over mankind. We are satisfied with our mediocrity, because we have had no experi- ence of any thing better : But the ancients had experi- ence of both ; and ujion comparison, gave the prefer- ence to that kind of which they have left us such ap- plauded models. For, if I mistake not, our modern eloquence is of the same style or species with that which ancient critics denominated Attic eloquence, that is, OF ELOJJUENCt:. 121 calm, elegant, and subtile, which instructed the reason more than affected the passions, and never raised its tone above arcjument or common discourse. 8uch was the eloquence of Lysias among the Athenians, and of Calvus amonff the Romans. These were esteemed in their time ; but, when compared with Demosthenes and Cicero, were eclipsed like a taper when set in the rays of a meridian sun. Those latter orators possess- ed the same elegance, and subtilty, and force of argu- ment with the former ; but, what rendered them chiefly admirable, was that pathetic and sublime, which, on proper occasions, they threw into their discourse, and by which they commanded the resolution of their audi- ence. Of this species of eloquence we have scarcely had any instance in England, at least in our public speak- ers. In our writers, we have had some instances which have met with great applause, and might assure our ambitious youth of equal or superior glory in attempts for the revival of ancient eloquence. Lord Boling- broke's productions, with all their defects in argument, method, and precision, contain a force and energy which our orators scarcely ever aim at; though it is evident that such an elevated style has much better grace in a speaker than in a writer, and is assured of more prompt and more astonishing success. It is there seconded by the graces of voice and action : The movements are mutually communicated between the orator and the audience : And the very aspect of a large assembly, attentive to the discourse of one man, must inspire him with a peculiar elevation, sufficient to give a propriety to the strongest figures and expressions. It is true, there is a great prejudice against nci sjiceches ; and a man cannot escape ridi^' 122 ESSAY XIII. ciile, who repeats a discourse as a schoolboy does his lesson, and takes no notice of any thing that has been advanced in the course of the debate. But where is the necessity of falHng into this absurdity ? A pubhc speaker must know before hand the question under de- bate. He may compose all the arguments, objections, and answers, such as he thinks will be most proper for his discourse. " If any thing new occur, he may supply it from his own invention ; nor will the diilerence be very apparent between his elaborate and his extemporary compositions. The mind naturally continues with the same imjjcttis or fm'ce^ which it has acquired by its motion, as a vessel, once impelled by the oars, carries on its course for some time when the original impulse is suspended. I shall conclude this subject with observing, that, even though our modern orators should not elevate their style, or aspire to a rivalship with the ancient ; yet there is, in most of their speeches, a material de- fect which they might correct, without dejiarting from that composed air of argument and reasoning to which they limit their ambition. Their great affectation of extemporary discourses has made them reject all or- der and method, which seems so requisite to argument, and without which it is scarcely possible to produce an entire conviction on the mind. It is not that one would recommend many divisions in a public dis- course, unless the subject very evidently offer them : But it is easy, without this formality, to observe a me- ' The first of the Athenians, who composed and wrote his speeches, was Pericles, a man of business and a man of sense, if ever tliere was one, llf.uro{ yfa-jTrot >.-jyov e'v J(x«r»pf«i f'/Tt, tuv Trpo avr« trytSix^ovTU* Suidas in flf^ixXn;. OF ELOQUENCE. 123 thod, and make that method conspicuous to the hear- ers, who will be infinitely pleased to see the arguments rise naturally from one another, and will retain a more thorough persuasion than can arise from the strongest reasons which are thrown together in confusion. ]->l. ESSAY XIV. ESSAY XIV. or THE RISE AND I'ROGUE.SS OF THE ARTS AND SCIENCES. Nothing requires greater nicety, in our inquiries concerning human affairs, than to distinguish exactly what is owing to chance, and what proceeds from causes ,- nor is there any subject in which an author is more liable to deceive himself by false subtilties and refinements. To say that any event is derived from chance, cuts short all farther inquiry concerning it, and leaves the writer in the same state of ignorance with the rest of mankind. But when the event is sup- posed to proceed from certain and stable causes, he may then display his ingenuity in assigning these causes ; and as a man of any subtilty can never be at a loss in this particular, he has thereby an opportunity of swelling his volumes, and discovering his profound knowledge in observing what escapes the vulgar and ignorant. The distinguishing between chance and causes must dej)en(l upon every particular man's sagacity in consi- dering every particular incident. But if I were to as- sign any general rule to help us in ajiplying this dis- tinction, it would be the following: What depends up- on a fe\i: persojis is, in a <^reaL vieasure, Lu he ascribed THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 125 to chance, or secret and unknoxtm causes : JVliat arises from a great manher, may often he accounted for by de- terminate and knormi causes. Two natural reasons may be assigned for this rule. Fi7-st, If you suppose a die to have any bias, however small, to a particular side, this bias, though perhaps it may not appear in a few throws, will certainly prevail in a great number, and will cast the balance entirely to that side. In like manner, when any causes beget a particular inclination or passion, at a certain time, and among a certain people, though many individuals may escape the contagion, and be ruled by passions pecu- liar to themselves, yet the multitude will certainly be seized by the common affection, and be governed by it in all their actions. Secondly, Those principles or causes which are fitted to operate on a multitude, are always of a grosser and more stubborn nature, less subject to accidents, and less influenced by whim and private fancy, than those which operate on a few only. The latter are common- ly so delicate and refined, that the smallest incident in the health, education, or fortune of a particular person, is sufficient to divert their course and retard their ope- ration ; nor is it possible to reduce them to any gene- ral maxims or observations. Their influence at one time will never assure us concerning their influence at another, even though all the general circumstances should be the same in both cases. To judge by this rule, the domestic and the gradual revolutions of a state must be a more proper subject of reasoning and observation than the foreimi and tlie violent, which are commonly produced by single per- sons, and are more influenced by whim, folly or ca- price, than by general passions and interests. The 126 ESSAY XIV. depression of tlie Lords, and rise of the Commons in En<rland, after the statutes of alienation, and the in- crease of trade and industry, are more easily account- ed for by general principles, than the depression of the Spanish, and rise of the French monarchy, after the death of Charles Quint. Had Harry IV. Cardi- nal Richelieu, and Louis XIV. been Spaniards, and Philiji II. III. and IV., and Charles II. been French- men, the history of these two nations had been en- tirely reversed. For the same reason, it is more easy to account for the rise and pro^^ress of commerce in any kingdom than for that of learning; and a state, which should apply itself to the encouragement of one, would be more assured of success than one which should culti- vate the other. (Avarice, or the desire of gain, is an universal passion, which operates at all times, in all places, and upon all persons : But curiosity, or the love of knowledge, has a very limited influence, and requires youth, leisure, education, genius and exam- ple, to make it govern any person. You will never want booksellers while there are buyers of books : But there may frequently be readers where there are no authors.! Multitudes of people, necessity and liberty, have begotten commerce in Holland : But study and application have scarcely produced any eminent writ- ers. V/c may therefore conclude, that there is no sub- ject in which we must proceed with more caution than in tracing the history of the arts and sciences, lest we assign causes which never existed, and reduce wliat is merely contingent to stable and universal principles. Those who cultivate the sciences in any state are al- ways few in number ; the passion which governs them THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIEN'CES. 127 limited ; their taste and judgment delicate and easily perverted ; and their application disturbed with the smallest accident. Chance, therefore, or secret and unknown causes, must have a great influence on the rise and progress of all the refined arts. But there is a reason M-hich induces me not to a- scribe the matter altoji-ether to chance. Though the persons who cultivate the sciences with such astonish- ing success as to attract the admiration of posterity, be always few in all nations and all ages, it is impossible but a share of the same spirit and genius must be antece- dently diffused throughout the people among whom they arise, in order to produce, form, and cultivate, from their earliest infancy, the taste and iudo-ment of those eminent writers. The mass cannot be altogether in- sipid from which such refined spirits are extracted. There is a God iviihin us, says Ovid, "d/io hrcathes. that divine Jire by *which we are a7iimated. ^ Poets in all ages have advanced this claim to inspiration. There is not, however, any thing supernatural in the case. Their fire is not not kindled from heaven. It only runs along the earth, is caught from one breast to an- other, and burns brightest where the materials are best prepared and most happily disposed. The ques- tion, therefoi'e, concerning the rise and progress of the arts and sciences is not altogether a question concern- ing the taste, genius, and spirit of a few, but concern- ing those of a whole people, and may therefore be ac- counted for, in some measure, by general causes and principles. I grant that a man, who should inquire why such a particular poet, as Homer, for instance, ^ Est Deus in nobis ; agitante calescimus illo : Impetus hie, sacra; scmina mentis habet. Ovid. Fast. lib. i. 128 ESSAY XIV. existed at such a jilace, in such a time, would throw himself headlon<y into chimera, and could never treat of such a subject without a multitude of false subtilties and refinements. lie mioht as well pretend to give a reason why such })articular oenerals as Fabius and Scipio lived in Rome at such a time, and why F'abius came into the world before Sci})io. For such incidents as these no other reason can be giverj than that of Ho- race : Scit genius, natale comes, qui temperat astrum. Naturae Deus humanne, mortalis in unum -Quodque caput, vultu mutahilis, albus ct ater. I Bill I am persuaded that in many cases good rea- sons might be given why such a nation is more polite and learned, at a particular time, than any of its neigh- bours. At least this is so curious a subject, that it were a pity to abandon it entirely before we have found whether it be susceptible of reasoning, and can be reduced to any general ]irinciples. My first observation on this head is. That H is im- 'po^nbh' jhr I he arh and sciences to arise, at Jirst, among any ])eoj>le, unless that iicople cnjoij the blessing of a free government. In the first ages of the world, wlien men are as yet barbarous and ignorant, they seek no farther security against mutual violence and injustice than the choice of some rulers, few or many, in whom they place an iiiipli- cit confidence, without providing any .security, by laws or political institutions, against the violence and injus- tice of these rulers. If the authority be centered in a single person, and if the people, either by conquest or by the ordinary course of propagation, increase to a great multitude, the monarch, finding it impossible, in his own person, to execute every office of sovereignty, THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 129 in every place, must delegate his authority to infe- rior magistrates, who preserve peace and order in their respective districts. As experience and educa- tion have not yet refined the judgments of men to any considerable degree, the prince, who is himself unre- strained, never dreams of restraining his ministers, but delegates his full authority to every one whom he sets over any portion of the people. All general laws are at- tended with inconveniences, when applied to particular cases ; and it requires great penetration and experience, both to perceive that these inconveniences are fewer than what result from full discretionary powers in every magistrate, and also to discern what general laws are, upon the whole, attended with fewest inconveniences. This is a matter of so great difficulty, that men may have made some advances, even in the sublime arts of poetry and eloquence, where a rapidity of genius and imagination assists their progress, before they have ar- rived at any great refinement in their municipal laws, where frequent trials and diligent observation can alone direct their improvements. It is not, therefore, to be supposed, that a barbarous monarch, unrestrained and uninstructed, will ever become a legislator, or think of restraining his Bashaws in every province, or even his Cadis in every village. We are told, that the late Czart though actuated with a noble genius, and smit with the love and admiration of European arts ; yet professed an esteem for the Turkish policy in this particular, and approved of such summary decisions of causes, as are practised in that barbarous monarchy, where the judges are not restrained by any methods, forms, or laws. He did not perceive, how contrary such a practice would have been to all his other endeavours for refininjr his people. Arbitrary power, in all cases, is somewhat VOL. III. I 130 ESSAY XIV. oppressive and debasing ; but it is altogether ruinous and intolerable, when contracted into a small compass; and becomes still worse, when the person, who possess- es it, knows that the time of his authority is limited and uncertain. Habct subjectos tanq^iam siios ; viles ut ali~ enos. * He governs the subjects with full authority, as if they were his own ; and with negligence or tyranny, as belonging to another. A people, governed after such a manner, are slaves in the full and proper sense of the word ; and it is impossible they can ever aspire to any refinements of taste or reason. They dare not so much as pretend to enjoy the necessaries of life in plenty or security. To expect, therefore, that the arts and sciences should take their first risj in a monarchy, is to expect a contra- diction. Before these refinements have taken place, the monarch is ignorant and uninstructed ; and not havinir knowledge sufficient to make him sensible of the neces- sity of balancing his government upon general laws, he delegates his full power to all inferior magistrates. This barbarous policy debases the people, and for ever pre- vents all improvements. Were it possible, that, before science were known in the world, a monarch could pos- sess so much wisdom as to become a lefjislator, and efo- vern his people by law, not by the arbitrary wdll of their fellow-subjects, it might be possible for that species of government to be the first nursery of arts and sciences. But that suj)j)osition seems scarcely to be consistent or rational. It may happen, that a republic, in its infant state, may be supj)orted by as few laws as a barbarous mo- narchy, and may intrust as unlimited an authority to its " Tacit. Hist. lib. i. THE RISE OF ARTii AND SCIENCES. 131 magistrates or judges. But, besides that the frequent elections by the people are a considerable check upon authority ; it is impossible, but in time, the necessity of restraining the magistrates, in order to preserve libert}', must at last appear, and give rise to general laws and statutes. The Roman Consuls, for some time, decided all causes, without being confined by any posi- tive statutes, till the people, bearing this yoke with impatience, created the decemvirs, who promulgated the Txvclve Tables ; a body of laws which, though perhaps they were not equal in bulk to one English act of Par- liament, were almost the only written rules, which re- gulated property and punishment, for some ages, in that famous republic. They were, however, sufficient, to- gether with the forms of a free government, to secure the lives and properties of the citizens ; to exempt one man from the dominion of another ; and to protect every one against the violence or tyranny of his fellow- citizens. In such a situation, the sciences may raise their heads and flourish; but never can have being amidst such a scene of oppression and slavery, as al- ways results from barbarous monarchies, where the people alone are restrained by the authority of the ma- gistrates, and the magistrates are not restrained by any law or statute. An unlimited despotism of this nature, while it exists, effectually puts a stop to all improve- ments, and keeps men from attaining that knowledge, which is requisite to instruct them in the advantages a- rising from a better police, and more moderate authority. Here then are the advanta<jes of free states. Thouoli a republic should be barbarous, it necessarily, by an infallible operation, gives rise to Law, even before man- kind have made any considerable advances in the other sciences. From law arises security ; from security cu- 1 2 * 132 ESSAY XIV. viosity ; and from ciirio«;ity knowledge. The latter steps of this progress may be more accidental ; but the for- mer are altogether necessary. A republic without laws can never have any duration. On the contrary, in a monarchical government, law arises not necessarily from the forms of government. Monarchy, when absolute, contains even something repugnant to law. Great wis- dom and reflection can alone reconcile them. But such a degree of wisdom can never be expected, before the greater refinements and improvements of human reason. These refinements require curiosity, security, and law. The/frst growth, therefore, of the arts and sciences, can never be expected in despotic governments. ^ ^ There are other causes, which discourage the rise of the refined arts in despotic governments ; though I take the want of laws, and the delegation of full powers to every petty magistrate, to be the principal. Eloquence certainly springs up more naturally in popular govern- ments : Emulation, too, in every accomplishment, must there be more animated and enlivened ; and genius and capacity have a fuller scope and career. All these causes render free governments the only proper 7mr- sery for the arts and sciences. The next observation which I shall make on this head is, That notJiing is more favourable to the rise of politeness and learnings than a number of neighbouring and independent states, connected together by commerce * 8 According to the necessary progress of things, law must precede science. In republics, law may precede science, and may arise from the very nature of the government. In monarchies, it arises not from the nature of the government, and cannot precede science. An absolute prince, that is barbarous, renders all his ministers and magistrates as absolute as himself: And there needs no more to prevent, for ever, all industry, curiosity, and science. — Editions B, D, and N. THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 133 and policy. The emulation which naturiilly arises a- niong those neighbouring states is an obvious source of improvement. But what I would chiefly insist on is the stop which such limited territories give both to potsoer and to authority. Extended governments, where a single person has great influence, soon become absolute ; but small ones change naturally into commonwealths. A large go- vernment is accustomed by degrees to tyranny, be- cause each act of violence is at first performed upon a part, which, being distant from the majority, is not ta- ken notice of, nor excites any violent ferment. Be- sides, a large government, though the whole be dis- contented, may, by a little art, be kept in obedience ; while each part, ignorant of the resolutions of the rest, is afraid to begin any commotion or insurrection : not to mention that there is a superstitious reverence for princes, which mankind naturally contract when they do not often see the sovereign, and when many of them become not acquainted with him so as to perceive his weaknesses. And as large states can afford a great expense in oi'der to support the pomp of majesty, this is a kind of fascination on men, and naturally contri- butes to the enslaving of them. In a small government, any act of oppression is im- mcdiatelv known throu";hout the whole; the murmurs and discontents proceeding from it are easily commu- nicated ; and the indignation arises the higher, because the subjects are not to apprehend, in such states, that the distance is very wide between themselves and their sovereign. ' No man, ' said the Prince of Condc, ' is a hero to his valet de chamhrc. ' It is certain that ad- miration and acquaintance are altogether incompatible towards any mortal creature. Sleeji and love con- 13i ESSAY XIV. viiiced even Alexander himself that he was not a God. Rut I suppose that such as daily attended him could easily, iVom the nuuiberless weaknesses to which he was subject, have «riven him many still more convinc- ing proofs of his humanity. Ikit the divisions into small states are favourable to learnintr, by stopping the progress of authority as well as that of po-^cr. Reputation is often as great a fasci- nation upon men as sovereignty, and is equally de- structive to the freedom of thought and examination. But where a number of neighbouring states have a <rreat intercourse of arts and commerce, their mutual jealousy keeps them from receiving too lighdy the law from each other, in matters of taste and of reasoning, and makes them examine every work of art with the greatest care and accuracy. The contagion of popu- lar opinion spreads not so easily from one place to another. It readily receives a check in some state or other, where it concurs not with the prevailing preju- dices. And nothing but nature and reason, or at least what bears them a strong resemblance, can force its way through all obstacles, and unite the most rival na- tions into an esteem and admiration of it. Greece was a cluster of little principalities, which soon became republics ; and being united both by their near neighbourhood, and by the ties of the same lan- guage and interest, they entered into the closest inter- course of commerce and learning. There concurred a liajipy climate, a soil not unfertile, and a most harmo- nious and comprehensive language ; so that every cir- cumstance among that people seemed to favour the rise of the arts and sciences. Each city produced its several artists and })hilosophers, who refused to yield the preference to those of the neighbouring republics ; THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 135 their contention and debates sharpened the wits of men; a variety of objects was presented to the jud<r- ment, while each challenged the preference to the rest> and tlie sciences, not being dwarfed by tlie restraint of authority, were enabled to make such considerable shoots as are even at this time the objects of our ad- miration. After the Roman Christian or Catholic church had spread itself over the civilized world, and had engrossed all the learning of the times, being real- ly one large state within itself, and united under one head, this variety of sects immediately disappeared, and the Peripatetic philosophy was alone admitted in- to all the schools, to the utter depravation of every kind of learning. But mankind having at len<rth thrown off this yoke, affairs are now returned nearly to the same situation as before, and Europe is at pre- sent a copy, at large, of what Greece was formerly a pattern in miniature. We have seen the advantage of this situation in several instances. What checked the progress of the Cartesian philosophy, to which the French nation showed such a strong propensity to- wards the end of the last century, but the opposition made to it by the other nations of Europe, who soon discovered the weak sides of that philosophy ? The severest scrutiny which Newton's theory has under- gone proceeded not from his own countrymen, but . from foreigners ; and if it can overcome the obstacles which it meets with at present in all parts of Euro})e, it will probably go down triumphant to the latest pos- terity. The English are become sensible of the scan- dalous licentiousnes of their stage, from tlie example of the French decency and morals. The French are convinced that their theatre has become somewhat ef- feminate by too much love and gallantry, and begin to 136 ESSAY XIV. approve of the more masculine taste of some neigh- bouring nations. In China, there seems to be a pretty considerable stock of politeness and science, which, in the course of so many centuries, might naturally be expected to ri- pen into something more perfect and finished than what has yet arisen from them. But China is one vast empire, speaking one language, governed by one law, and svmpathi/ino- in the same manners. The autho- rity of any teacher, such as Confucius, was propagated easily from one corner of the empire to the other. None had courage to resist the torrent of popular opi- nion ; and posterity was not bold enough to dispute what had been universally received by their ancestors. This seems to be one natural reason why the sciences liave made so slow a progress in that mighty em- pire. ^ ^ If it be asked how we can reconcile to the foregoing principles the happiness, riclies, and good police of the Chinese, who have always been governed by a monarcli, and can scarcely form an idea of a free go- vernment ; I w ould answer, that though the Chinese government be a pure monarchy, it is not, properly speaking, absolute. This proceeds from a peculiarity in tlie situation of that country: They have no neigh- bours, except tlic Tartars, from whom they were, in some measure, se- cured, at least seemed to be secured, by tlieir famous wall, and by the great superiority of their numbers. By this means, military discipline has always been much neglected amongst them; and their standing forces are mere militia of the worst kind, and unfit to suppress any ge- neral insurrection in countries so extremely poiJulous The sword, there- fore, may properly be said to be always in tlie hands of the people ; which is a sufficient restraint upon the monarch, and obliges him to lay his mandarinf, or governors of provinces, under the restraint of general laws, in order to jjrevent those rebellions wliich we learn from history to have been so frequent and dangerous in that government. Perhaps a pure monarchy of tliis kind, were it fitted for defence against foreign enemies, would be rhe best of all governments, as having both the tran- quillity attending kingly power, and the moderation and liberty of popu-r lar assemblies. ^ THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 137 If we consider the face of the globe, Europe, of all the four parts of the world, is the most broken by seas, rivers, and mountains, and Greece of all coun- tries of Europe. Hence these regions were naturally divided into several distinct governments; and hence the sciences arose in Greece, and Europe has been hitherto the most constant habitation of them. I have sometimes been inclined to think, that inter- ruptions in the periods of learning, were they not at- tended with such a destruction of ancient books, and the records of history, w'ould be rather favourable to the arts and sciences, by breaking the progress of au- thority, and dethroning the tyrannical usurpers over human reason. In this particular, they have the same influence as interruptions in political governments and societies. Consider the blind submission of the an- cient philosophers to the several masters in each school, and you will be convinced, that little good could be expected from a hundred centuries of such a servile philosophy. Even the Eclectics, who arose about the age of Augustus, notwithstanding their professing to choose freely what pleased them from every different sect, were yet, in the main, as slavish and dependent as any of their brethren ; since they sought for truth, not in Nature, but in the several schools ; where they supposed she must necessarily be found, though not united in a body, yet dispersed in parts. Upon the revival of learning, those sects of Stoics and Epicureans, Platonists and Pythagoreans, could never regain any credit or authority ; and, at the same time, by the ex- ample of their fall, kept men from submitting, with such blind deference, to those new sects, which have attempted to gain an ascendant over them. The third observation, which I shall form on thiij // 138 ESSAY XIV. head, of the rise and progress of tlie arts and sciences, is. That, tJiough the onlij p-oper nursery of these nohle })lants he a free state, yet may they he transplanted into any government ,- and that a republic is most favourable to the groiiih of the sciences, a?id a civilized monarchy to that of the polite arts. To balance a large state or society, whether mo- narchical or republican, on general laws, is a work of so great dilliculty, that no human genius, however comprehensive, is able, by the mere dint of reason and reflection, to effect it. The judgments of many must unite in this work : Experience must guide their la- bour : Time must bring it to perfection : And the feel- in**" of inconveniences must correct the mistakes, which they inevitably fall into, in their first trials and experi- ments. Hence appears the impossibility that this un- dertaking should be begun and carried on in any mo- narchy ; since such a form of government, ere civilized, knows no other secret or policy, than that of intrust- ing unlimited powers to every governor or magistrate, and subdividing the people into so many classes and orders of slavery. From such a situation, no improve- ment can ever be expected in the sciences, in the libe- ral arts, in laws, and scarcely in the manual arts and manufactures. The same barbarism and ignorance, with which the government commences, is propagated to all posterity, and can never come to a period by the efforts or ingenuity of such unhappy slaves. But though law, the source of all security and hap- piness, arises late in any government, and is the slow product of order and of liberty, it is not preserved with tiie same difficidty with which it is produced ; but wlien it has f)nce taken root, is a hardy j)lant, which will scarcely ever pcrisli ihrongh the ill cullure of men, or THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 139 the rigour of the seasons. The arts of hixury, and much more the liberal arts, which depend on a refined taste or sentiment, are easily lost ; because they are always relished by a few only, whose leisure, fortune and genius, fit them for such amusements. But what is profitable to every mortal, and in common life, v/hcn once discovered, can scarcely fail into oblivion, but by the total subversion of society, and by such furious in- undations of barbarous invaders, as obliterate all me- mory of former arts and civility. Imitation also is apt to transport these coarser and more useful arts from one climate to another, and make them precede the refined arts in their progress ; though, perhaps, they sprang after them in their first rise and propagation. From these causes proceed civilized monarchies, where the arts of government, first invented in free states, are preserved to the mutual advantage and security of sovereign and subject. However perfect, therefore, the monarchical form may appear to some politicians, it owes all its perfec- tion to the republican ; nor is it possible that a pure despotism, established among a barbarous people, can ever, by its native force and energy, refine and polish itself. It must borrow its laws, and methods, and in- stitutions, and consequently its stability and order, from free governments. These advantages are the sole growth of republics. The extensive despotism of a barbarous monarchy, by entering into the detail of the government, as well as into the principal points of administration, for ever prevents all such improve- ments. In a civilized monarchy, the prince alone is unre- strained in the exercise of his authority, and possesses alone a loowcr, which is not bounded by tniv thin')- but 140 ESSAY XIV. custom, example, and tlie sense of his own interest. Every minister or magistrate, however eminent, must submit to the general laws which govern the whole so- ciety, and must exert the authority delegated to him after the manner which is prescribed. The people de- pend on none but their sovereign for the security of their property. He is so far removed from them, and is so much exempt from private jealousies or interests, that this dependence is scarcely felt. And thus a spe- cies of government arises, to which, in a high political rant, we may give the name of Tyranny^ but which, by a just and prudent administration, may afford tolerable security to the people, and may answer most of the ends of political society. But though in a civilized monarchy, as well as in a republic, the people have security for the enjoyment of their property, yet in both these forms of government, those who possess the supreme authority have the dis- posal of many honours and advantages, which excite the ambition and avarice of mankind. The only dif- ference is, that, in a re})ublic, the candidates for office must look downwards to gain the suffrages of the peo- ple ; in a monarchy, they must turn their attention up- wards, to court the good graces and favour of the great. To be successful in the former way, it is ne- cessary for a man to make himself useful by his indus- try, capacity, or knowledge : To be prosperous in the latter way, it is requisite for him to render himself agreeable by his wit, complaisance, or civility. A strong genius succeeds best in republics; a refined taste in monarchies. And, consequejitly, the sciences are the more natural growth of the one, and the polite arts of the other. Not to mention, that monarchies, receiving their THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 141 chief stability from a superstitious reverence to priests ard princes, have commonly abridged tlie liberty of reasoning, with regard to religion and politics, and consequently metaphj'sics and morals. All these form the most considerable branches of science. Mathema- tics and natural philosophy, which only remain, are not half so valuable. ^ ^ Among the arts of conversation, no one pleases more than mutual deference or civility, which leads us to re- sign our own inclinations to those of our companion, and to curb and conceal that presumption and arro- gance so natural to the human mind. A good-natured man, who is well educated, practises this civility to every mortal, without premeditation or interest. But in order to render that valuable quality general among any people, it seems necessary to assist the natural disposition by some general motive. Where power rises upwards from the people to the great, as in all republics, such refinements of civility are apt to be little practised, since the whole state is, by that means, brought near to a level, and every member of it is ren- dered, in a great measure, independent of another. The people have the advantage, by the authority of their suffrages ; the great by the superiority of their station. But in a civilized monarchy, there is a long train of dependence from the prince to the peasant, which is not great enough to render property precari- ous, or depress the minds of the people ; but is suffi- » 9 Immediately after this passage, we find in the early Editions B, D and N. There is a very great connection among all the arts, that contribute to pleasure ; and the same delicacy of taste vhich enables us to make im- provements in one, will not allow the others to remain altogether rude and barbarous. 142 ESSAY XIY. cient to begot In every one an inclination to please his superiors, and to form himself u))on those models which are most acceptable to ]ieople of condition and educa- tion. Politeness of manners, therefore, arises most naturally in monarchies and courts ; and where that flourishes, none of the liberal arts will be altogether neglected or despised. The republics in Europe are at present noted for want of politeness. The good manners of a Swiss civi- lized in Holland, ^ is an expression for rusticity among the French. The English, in some degree, fall under tlie same censure, notwithstandino- their learning and genius. And if the Venetians be an exception to the rule, they owe it, perhaps, to their communication with the other Italians, most of whose governments beuet a dependence more than sufhcient for civilizing their maimers. It is difficult to pronounce any judgement concern- ing the refinements of the ancient republics in this })ar- ticular : But I am apt to suspect, that the arts of con- versation were not brought so near to perfection among them as the arts of writing and composition. The scurrility of the ancient orators, in many instances, is quite shocking, and exceeds all belief. Vanity, too, is often not a little ofi'ensive in authors of those ages; '' as well as the common licentiousness and immodesty of their style, (^licnvqiw. impudicus, adulter, ganeo, manu. * C'cst la ])olitcsso (I'un Suisse En Ilollaiide civilise. Rous'seait. •* It is needless to cite Cicero or I'liny on this head : Tlicy are too much noted. But one is a little surprised to find Arriaii, a veiy grave, judicious writer, interrupt the thread of liis narration all of a sudden, to tell his readers that he himself is as eminent among the Greeks for elo- <^uence, as Alexander was for arms. — Lib, i. TMK RISK OF ARTS AND 8CIENCES. 143 ventre, pene, bona pntria laccravci^at, says Sallust, in one of tlie gravest and most moral passages of his his- tory. Najii fuit ante Hclenam Cwifms, tetcrrima belli caiisa, is an expression of Horace, in tracing the origin of moral good and evil. Ovid antl Lucretius '' are al- most as licentious in their style as Lord Rochester ; thouo-li the former were fine gentlemen and delicate writers, and the latter, from the corruptions of that court in which he lived, seems to have thrown off all regard to shame and decency. Juvenal inculcates mo- desty with great zeal ; but sets a very bad example of it, if we consider the impudence of his expressions. I shall also be bold to affirm, that among the anci- ents, there was not much delicacy of breeding, or that polite deference and respect, which civility obliges us either to express or counterfeit towards the persons with whom we converse. Cicero was certainly one of the finest gentlemen of his age ; yet, I must confess, I have frequently been shocked with the poor figure un- der which he represents his friend Atticus, in those dia- logues where he himself is introduced as a speaker, lliat learned and virtuous Roman, whose dignity, though he was only a private gentleman, was inferior to that of no one in Rome, is there shown in rather a more pitiful light than Philalethes's friend in our mo- dern dialogues. He is a humble admirer of the orator, pays him frequent compliments, and receives his in- structions, with all the deference which a scholar owes •• This poet (see lib. iv. ilG5.) recommends a very extraordinary cure for love, and what one expects not to meet with in so elegant and philo- sopliical a poem. It seems to have been the originnl of some of Dr Swift's images. The elegant Catullus and Pha'drus full under the same censure. lii ESSAY XIV. to his master. " Even Cato is treated in somewhat of a cavalier manner in the dialoo;ues Dc Finibus. ^° ^ Att. Non milii videtur ad bcate vivcndum satis esse virtutem. Mar. At hercule Bruto meo videtui-; cujiis ego judicium, pace tua dixerim, longe antepono tuo. — Tusc. Qevst. lib. v. 5 o These observations regarding politeness in different ages and na- tions, occur in all the early Editions, but have been since omitted. And it is reniarkal)k', tliat Cicero, being a great sceptic in matters of religion, and being unwilling to determine any thing on that head among the dif- ferent sects of philosophy, introduces his friends disputing concerning the being and nature of the gods, wliile he is only a hearer; because, forsooth, it would have been an impropriety for so great a genius as him- self had he spoke, not to have said something decisive on the subject, and have carried every thing before him, as he always does on other oc- casions. There is also a spirit of dialogue observed in the charming hooks de Oratore, and a tolerable equality maintained among the speak- ers ; but then these speakers are the great men of the age preceding our author, and he recounts the conference as only from hearsay. It is but a very indifferent compliment which Horace pays to his friend Grosphus, ill the ode addressed to him. * No one, says he, is liappj/ in every respect. And I may, perhaps, enjoy some advantages, which you are deprived of. I'om possess great riches : Yo2ir bellowing herds cover the Silician plains : Your chariot is drawn by the finest horses : And you are arrayed in the richest purple. But the indulgent Fates, with a small inhe- ritance have given me a fine genius, and have endowed me with a contempt Nihil est ab omni I'arte bcatum. Abstulit clarum cita mors Achillem, Longa Tithonum minuit sencctus, Et milii forsan, tibi quod negarit, Porriget hora. Tc greges centum, Siculaeque circum Mugiunt vacca; : tibi tojlit hinni- Tum apta quadrigis equa : te bis Afro INIurice tincta; Vestiunt lanac : milii parva rura, et R|)iritum Graiae tenuem Camoenae Parca non mendax dedit, et malignum Spcrnere vulgus. — Lib. 2. Ode 16. THE RISK OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 145 One of the most particular details of a real dialogue, which we meet with in antiquity, is related by Poly- bius ; *■ when Philip king of Macedon, a prince of wit and })arts, met with Titus Flamininus, one of the po- for the malignant judgments of the vulgar. Phcedrus says to his patron, Eutychus, if you design to read my works, I shall be pleased : If not, I shall, at least, have the advantage of pleasing posterity. • I am apt to think, that a modern poet would not have been guilty of such an impro- priety, as that which may be observed in Virgil's address to Augustus, when, after a great deal of extravagant flattery, and after having deified the emperor, according to the custom of those times, he at last places this god on the same level with himself, f By your gracious nod, Says * Quem si leges, laJtabor ; sin autem minus, habebunt certe quo se oblectent posteri. f Ignarosque vise mecum miseratus agrestes Ingredere, et votis jam nunc assuesce vocari. One would not say to a prince or great man, When you and I were in Stich a place, tve saw such a thing happen. But, when you were in such a place, I attended on you -, and such a thing happened. Here I cannot forbear mentioning a piece of delicacy observed in France, which seems to me excessive and ridiculous. You must not say* That is a very fine dog, Madam, — But, Madam, that is a very fine dog. They think it indecent that those words Dog and Madam should be coupled together in the sentence, though they have no reference to each other in the sense. After all, I acknowledge, that this reasoning from single passages of ancient authors may seem fallacious, and that the foregoing arguments cannot have great force, but with those who are well acquainted with these authors, and know the truth of the general position. For instance, what absurdity would it be to assert that Virgil understood not the force of the terms he employs, and could not choose his epithets with pro- priety; because, iu the following lines addressed also to Augustus, lie has failed in that particular, and has ascribed to the Indians a quality which seems, in a manner, to turn his hero into ridicule ! i — Et te, maxime Ca?sar, Qui nunc, extremis Asite jam victor in oris, Inibelleni avertis Romanis arcibus Indum — Georg. Lib. ii. Editions, B, D & N. •> Lib. xvii. VOL. III. K 146 ESSAY XIV. litest of the Romans, as we learn from Plutarch, * ac- companied with ambassadors from almost all the Greek cities. The ^li^tolian ambassador very abruptly tells the king, that he talked like a fool or a madman (A»ge*y.) * That's evident (says his Majesty), even to a blind man ; ' which was a raillery on the blindness of his excellency. Yet all this did not pass the usual bounds : For the conference was not disturbed ; and Flamininus was very well diverted with these strokes of humour. At the end, when Philip craved a little time to consult with his friends, of whom he had none present, the Roman general, being desirous also to show his wit, as the historian says, tells him, ' That perhaps the reason why he had none of his friends with him, was because he had murdered them all ; ' which was actually the case. Tins unprovoked piece of rusticity is not con- demned by the historian; caused no farther resentment in Philip than to excite a Sardonian smile, or what we call a grin ; and hindered him not from renewing the conference next day. Plutarch, '' too, mentions this raillery amongst the witty and agreeable sayings of Flamininus. Cardinal Wolsey apologized for his famous piece of insolence, in saying. Ego et rex meus, I and my king, by observing, that this expression was conformable to the Latin idiom, and that a Roman always named him- self before the person to whou), or of whom, he spake. he, render my undertaking prosperous ; and talcing pitj/, along with rae, of the swains ignorant of husbandry, bestow your favourable injlucncc on this work. Had men in tliat age been accnstomed to observe such nice- tics, a writer so delicate as Virgil, would certainly have given a different turn to this sentence. The court of Augustus, however polite, had not yet, it seems, wore off the manners of the republic. * In Vita Flamin. '' I'lut. in Vita Flamin.. THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. I'l-T Yet this seems to have been an instance of want of ci-i vility among that people. The ancients made it a rule, that the person of the greatest dignity should be mentioned first in the discourse; insomuch, that we find the spring of a quarrel and jealousy between the Romans and iEtolians, to have been a poet's naming the ^tolians before the Romans in celebratins: a vie- tory gained by their united arms over the Macedo- nians. " Thus Livia disgusted Tiberius by placing her own name before his in an inscription. " No advantages in this world are pure and unmixed. In like manner, as modern politeness, which is natu- rally so ornamental, runs often into affectation and foppery, disguise and insincerity ; so the ancient sim- plicity, which is naturally so amiable and affecting, often degenerates into rusticit}' and abuse, scurrility and obscenity. If the superiority in politeness should be allowed to modern times, the modern notions of galkmtri/, the natural produce of courts and monarchies, will proba- bly be assigned as the causes of this refinement. No one denies this invention to be modern : '' But some of the more zealous partisans of the ancients have assert- ed it to be foppish and ridiculous, and a reproach, ra- ther than a credit, to the present age. * It may here be jiroper to examine this question. Nature has implanted in all living creatures an affec- tion between the sexes, which, even in the fiercest and most rapacious animals, is not merely confined to the satisfaction of the bodily appetite, but begets a friend- '' Plut. in Vita Flamin. "^ Tacit. Ann. lib. iii. cap. Gk " In the Sflf-Tormcntur of Terence, Clinias, whenever he comes to town, instead of waiting on his mistress, sends for her to come to him. * Lord Sliaftesbin-y. See his Moralists. K 2 118 ESSAY XIV. ship and mutual syuipatliy, which runs through the whi)le tenor of their Hves. Nay, even in those species, where nature limits the indulgence of this appetite to one season and to one object, and forms a kind of mar- riage or association between a single male and female, there is yet a visible com])lacency and benevolence, wliich extends farther, and mutually softens the affec- tions of the sexes towards each other. How much more must this have place in man, where the confine- ment of the appetite is not natural, but either is de- rived accidentally from some strong charm of love, or arises from reflections on duty and convenience ! No- thing, therefore, can proceed less from affectation than the passion of gallantry. It is natural in the highest degree. Art and education, in the most elegant courts, make no more alteration on it than on all the other laudable passions. They only turn the mind more to- wards it; they refine it; they polish it; and give it a proper grace and expression. But gallantry is as geficrotis as it is natural. To cor- rect such gross vices as lead us to commit real injury on others, is the part of morals, and the object of the most ordinary education. Where that is not attended to in some degree, no human society can subsist. But, in order to render conversation, and the intercourse of minds more easy and agreeable, good manners have been invented, and have carried the matter somewhat farther. Wherever nature has given the mind a pro- pensity to any vice, or to any passion disagreeable to others, refined breeding has taught men to throw the bias on the opposite side, and to preserve, in all their behaviour, tlie appearance of sentiments dillbrent from those to wliich they naturally incline. Thus, as we are commonly proud and selfish, and apt to assume the THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 149 preference above others, a polite man learns to behave with deference towards his companions, and to yield the superiority to them in all the common incidents of so- ciety. In like manner, wherever a person's situation may naturally beget any disagreeable suspicion in him, it is the part of good manners to prevent it, by a studied dis- play of sentiments, directly contrary to those of which he is apt to be jealous. Thus, old men know their infir- mities, and naturally dread contempt from the youth : Hence well-educated youth redouble the instances of respect and deference to their elders. Strangers and foreigners are without protection : Hence, in all polite countries, they receive the highest civilities, and are entitled to the first place in every company. A man is lord in his own family ; and his guests are, in a manner, subject to his authority : Hence, he is always the low- est person in the company, attentive to the wants of every one, and giving himself all the trouble in or- der to please, which may not betray too visible an af- fectation, or impose too much constraint on his guests. ^ Gallantry is nothing but an instance of the same gene- rous attention. As nature has given man the superiority above 'woman, by endowing him with greater strength both of mind and body, it is his part to alleviate that superiority, as much as possible, by the generosity of his behaviour, and by a studied deference and com- plaisance for all her inclinations and opinions. Bar- f The frequent mention in ancient authors of that ill-bred custom of the master of the family's eating better bread, or drinking better -vvine at table, than he afforded his guests, h but an indifferent mark of the civi- lity of those ages. See Juvenal, sat. 5. ; IMin. lib. xiv. cap. 13. ; also Plinii Epist. Lucian de mercude conductis. Saturnalia, &c. There is scarcely any part of Europe at present so uncivilized as to admit of such a, custom. IjO essay XIV. barons nations display tliis superiority, by reducing their females to the most abject slavery ; by confining them, by beating them, by selling them, by killing them. But the male sex, among a polite people, dis- cover their authority in a more generous, though not a less evident manner ; by civility, by respect, by com- plaisance, and, in a word, by gallantry. In good com- pany, you need not ask, who is the master of the feast? The man who sits in the lowest place, and who is always industrious in helping every one, is certainly the person. We must either condemn all such instan- ces of generosity as foppish and affected, or admit of gallantry among the rest. The ancient Muscovites wedded their wives with a whij), instead of a ring. The same people, in their own houses, took always the pre- cedency above foreigners, even ^ foreign ambassadors. These two instances of their generosity and pohteness are much of a piece. Gallantry is not less compatible with 'wisdom and pru-^ dcHce, than with nature and generosity ; and, when un- der proper regulations, contributes more than any other invention to the entertainment and improvement of the youth of both sexes. Among every species of animals, nature has founded on the love between the sexes their sweetest and best enjoyment. But the satisfaction of the bodily appetite is not alone suilicient to gratify tlie mind ; and, even among brute creatures, we find that their play and dalliance, and other expressions of fond- ness, form the greatest part of the entertainment. In rational beings, we must certainly admit the mind for u considerable share. Were we to rob the feast of all its garniture of reason, discourse, sympathy, friendship, « fke lUlalioii of Thre« Kmbasiiie*, by the Earl of Carlisle, THE RISK OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 151 and gaiety, what remains would scarcely be worth ac- ceptance, in the judgment of the truly elegant and lux- urious. What better school for manners than the comj^any of virtuous women, where the mutual endeavour to please must insensibly polish the mind, where the ex- ample of the female softness and modesty must com- municate itself to their admirers, and where the deli- cacy of that sex puts every one on his guard, lest he give offence by any breach of decency ? ^' Among the ancients, the character of the fair sex was considered as altogether domestic ; nor were they re- garded as part of the polite world, or of good company. This, perhaps, is the true reason why the ancients have not left us one piece of pleasantry that is excellent (un- less one may except the Banquet of Xenophon, and the Dialogues of Lucian), though many of their serious compositions are altogether inimitable, Horace con- demns the coarse railleries and cold jests of Plautus : But, though the most easy, agreeable, and judicious writer in the world, is his own talent for ridicule very striking or refined ? This, therefore, is one consider- able improvement which the polite arts have received from gallantry, and from courts where it first arose. ^* 3 » 1 must confess that my own particular choice rather leads me tp prefer the company of a few select companions, witli whom I can calmly and peaceably enjoy the feast of reason, and try the justness of every re- flection, whether gay or serious, that may occur to me. But as such a delightful society is not every day to be met with, I must think that mixed companies without tlie fair sex, are the most insipid entertainment in the world, and destitute of gaiety and politeness, as much as of sense 3nd reason. Nothing can keep them from excessive dulness but hard drinking, a remedy worse tlian the disease. — Editions B & D. i i The point of honour is a modern invention, as well as i;al/nnlri/ ; 3nd by some esteemed e<]ually useful for the refining of maiin(.r.i : But 152 ESSAY XIV. But to return from this digression, I shall advance it as a fourth observation on this subject, of the rise and progress of the arts and sciences, That "when the arts atid sciences come to ■perfection in any state, from that moment they naturally, or rather necessarily, decliiie, and seldom or never revive in that nation xdiere they formerly flourished . It nnist be confessed, tliat this maxim, though con- formable to experience, may at first siglit be esteemed contrary to reason. If the natural genius of mankind be the same in all ages, and in almost all countries (as seems to be the truth), it must very much forward and how it has contributed to that effect, I am at a loss to determine. Con- versation, among the greatest rustics, is not commonly infested with such rudeness as can give occasion to duels, even according to the most re- fined laws of this fantastic honour ; and as to the other smaller indecen- cies, which are the most offensive, because the most frequent, they can never be cured liy the practice of duelling. But these notions are not only useless l)ut pernicious. By separating the man of honour from the man of virtue, the greatest profligates have got something to value them- selves upon, and have been able to keep themselves in countenance, though guilty of the most shameful and most dangerous vices. They pre debauchees, spendthrifts, and never pay a farthing they owe; but they are men of honour, and therefore are to be received as gentlemen in all companies. There are some of the parts of modern honour which are the most es- sential parts of morality, such as fidelity, the observing promises, and telling truth. These points of honour Mr Addison had in his eye, when he made Juba say, Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, The noble mind's distinguishing perfection, That aids and strengthens virtue, when it meets her. And imitates her actions where she is not : It ouglit not to be sported with. These lines are very beautiful ; but I am afraid tliat Mr Addison has here been guilty of that impropriety of sentiment with which he has so justly r'.i>rove(l other poets. Tlie ancients certainly never had any notion pi honour as distinct from vir.tu;. — Kditions B, J) & N. THE niSE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 153 cultivate this genius, to be possessed of patterns in every art, which may regulate the taste, and fix the objects of imitation. The models left us by the ancients gave birth to all the arts about two hundred years ago, and have mightily advanced their progress in every country of Europe. Why had they not a like effect during the reign of Trajan and his successors, when they were much more entire, and were still admired ami studied by the whole world ? So late as the emperor Justinian, the Poet, by way of distinction, was understood, among the Greeks, to be Homer ; among the Romans, Virgil. Such admirations still remained for these divine ge- niuses ; though no poet had appeared for many centu- ries, who could justly pretend to have imitated them. A man's genius is always, in the beginning of life, as much unknown to himself as to others ; and it is only after frequent trials, attended with success, that he dares think himself equal to those undertakings, in which those who have succeeded have fixed the admiration of mankind. If his own nation be already possessed of jnany models of eloquence, he naturally compares his own juvenile exercises with these ; and, being sensible of the great disproportion, is discouraged from any farther attempts, and never aims at a rivalship with those authors whom he so much admires. A noble ^_ emulation is the source of every excellence. Admira- tion and modesty naturally extinguish this emulation ; and no one is so liable to an excess of admiration and modesty as a truly great genius. Next to emulation, the greatest encourager of the noble arts is praise and glory. A writer is animated with new force when he hears the applauses of the world for his former productions ; and, being roused by such a motive, he often reaches a pitch of perfect 154« ESSAY XIV, tion, wliicli Is equally surprising to himself and to his readers. ]5ut when the posts of honour are all occu- pied, his first attempts are but coldly received by the public; being compared to productions which are both in themselves more excellent, and have already the ad- vantage of an established reputation. Were Moliere and C'orneille to bring upon the stage at present their early proiluctions, which were formerly so well receiv- ed, it would discourage the yoimg poets to see the in- difference and disdain of the public. The ignorance of the aire alone could have given admission to the Prince of Tyre ; but it is to that we owe The Moo7\ Had Every Man in his Humour been rejected, we had never seen Volpone^ Perhaps it may not be for the advantage of any na- tion to have the arts imported from their neighbours in too great perfection. This extinguishes emulation, and sinks the ardour of the generous youth. So many models of Italian painting brought to England, instead of exciting our artists, is the cause of their small pro- gress in that noble art. The same, perhaps, was the case of Rome when it received the arts from Greece. That multitude of polite productions in the French language, dispersed all over Germany and the North, liinder these nations from cultivating their own lan-^ guage, and keep them still dependent on their neigh- bours for those elegant entertainments. It is true, the ancients had left us models in every kind of writing, which are highly worthy of admiral tion. But besides that they were written in languages known only to the learned ; besides this, I say, the comjjarison is not so perfect or entire between modern wits, and those who lived in so remote an age. Ilacl Waller been b(»rn in Koni-', during the reign of Ti-^ THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 155 berius, his first productions had been despised, when compared to the finished odes of Horace. But in this Island, the superiority of the Roman poet diminished nothing from the fame of the EngHsh. We esteemed ourselves sufficiently happy that our climate and lan- guage could produce but a faint copy of so excellent an original. In short, the arts and sciences, like some plants, re- quire a fresh soil ; and however rich the land may be, and however you may recruit it by art or care, it will never, when once exhausted, produce any thing that is perfect or finished in the kind. I5G ESSAY XV. ESSAY XV. THE EPICUREAN. " It is a great mortification to the vanity of man, that his utmost art and industry can never equal the mean- ' est of Nature's productions, either for beauty or value. Art is only the under-workman, and is employed to give a few strokes of embellishment to those pieces which come from the hand of the master. Some of the drapery may be of his drawing, but he is not allowed to touch the principal figure. Art may make a suit of clothes, but Nature must produce a man. Even in those productions commonly denominated works of art, we find that the noblest of the kind are beholden for their chief beauty to the force and happy influence of nature. To the native enthusiasm of the poets we owe whatever is admirable in their produc- tions. The greatest genius, where nature at any time fails him (for she is not equal), throws aside the lyre, and hopes not, from the rules of art, to reach that di- ^ Or, The man of elegance and pleasure. The intention of this and the three following Essays, is not so much to explain accurately the sen- timonts of the ancient sects of philosoj)liy, as to deliver the sentiments of ^ Bccts that naturally form themselves in tiie world, and entertain different ideas of human life and happiness. I have given each of them the name of the philosophical tect to which it bears the greatest affinity. THE EPICUREAN. 157 vine harmony which must proceed from her inspira- tion alone. How poor are those songs where a happy flow of fancy has not furnished materials for art to em- bellish and refine ! But of all the fruitless attempts of art, no one is so ridiculous as that which the severe philosophers have undertaken, the producing of an artificial happiness, ' and making us be pleased by rules of reason and by reflection. Why did none of them claim the reward which Xerxes promised to him who should invent a new pleasure? Unless, perhaps, they invented so many pleasures for their own use, that they despised riches, and stood in no need of any enjoyments which the rewards of that monarch could procure them. I am apt, indeed, to think, that they were not willing to furnish the Persian court with a new pleasure, by pre- senting it with so new and unusual an object of ridi- cule. Their speculations, when confined to theory, and gravely delivered in the schools of Greece, might excite admiration in their ignorant pupils ; but the at- tempting to reduce such principles to practice would soon have betrayed their absurdity. You pretend to make me happy, by reason and by rules of art. You must then create me anew by rules ^ of art, for on my original frame and structure does my happiness depend. But you want power to effect this, and skill too, I am afraid ; nor can I entertain a less opinion of Nature's wisdom than yours ; and let her conduct the machine which she has so wisely framed; I find that I should only spoil it by tampering. To what purpose should I pretend to regulate, re fine, or invigorate any of those springs or principles which nature has implanted in me ? Is this the road by which I must reach happiness ? But happhiess im- 138 ESSAY XV i plies ease, contentment, repose, and pleasure ; not watchfulness, care, and fatigue. The health of my body consists in the facility with which all its opera- tions are performed. The stomach digests the ali- ments ; the heart circulates tlic blood ; the brain sepa- rates and refines the sjMrits : and all this without my concerning myself in tiie matter. ^Mlen by my will alone I can stop the blood, as it runs with impetuosity along its canals, then may I hope to change the course of my sentiments and passions. In vain should I strain my faculties, and endeavour to receive pleasure from an object which is not fitted by nature to affect my or- gans with delight. I may give myself pain by ni}^ fruit- less endeavours, but shall never reach any pleasure. Away then with all those vain pretences of making ourselves happy within ourselves, of feasting on our own thouirhts, of bcinsf satisfied with the consciousness of well-doing, and of despising all assistance and all supplies from external objects. This is the voice of pride, not of nature. And it were well if even this pride could support itself, and communicate a real m- "iZard pleasure, however melancholy or severe. But this impotent pride can do no more than regulate the outside^ and, with infinite pains and attention, compose the language and countenance to a philosophical digni- ty, in order to deceive the ignorant vulgar. 7^he heart, meanwhile, is empty of all enjoyment, and the mind, unsupported by its proper objects, sinks into the deep- est sorrow and dejection. Miserable, but vain mortal ! Thy mind be happy within itself ! With w hat resources is it endowed to fill so inmiense a void, and supply the })lace of all thy bodily senses and faculties ? Can thy head subsist without thy other members ? In such a situation. THE Epicurean. 159 What foolish figure must it make? Do nothing else but sleep and ake. Into such a lethargy, or such a mcLanchol}', must thy mind be pkmged, when deprived of foreign occu- pations and enjoyments. Keep me, therefore, no longer in this violent con- straint. Confine me not within myself, but point out to me those objects and pleasures which afford the chief enjoyment. But why do I apply to you, proud and ignorant sages, to show me the road to happiness? Let me consult my own passions and inclinations. In them must I read the dictates of nature, not in your frivolous discourses. But see, propitious to my wishes, the divine, the amiable Pleasure, i the supreme love of Gods and men, advances towards me. At her approach my heart beats with genial heat, and every sense and every fa- culty is dissolved in joy , while she pours around me all the embellishments of the spring, and all the trea* sures of the autumn. The melody of her voice charm?? my ears with the softest music, as she invites me to par- take of those delicious fruits, which, with a smile that diff'uses a glory on the heavens and the earth, she pre- sents to me. The sportive cupids who attend her, or fan me with their odoriferous wings, or pour on my head the most fragrant oils, or offer me their sparkling nectar in golden goblets ; O ! for ever let me spread my limbs on this bed of roses, and thus, thus feel the delicious moments, with soft and downy steps, glide along. But cruel chance ! Whither do you fly so fast ? Why do my ardent wishes, and that load of plea- sures under which you labour, rather hasten than re- • Dia Voluptas. Lucret. IGO ESSAY XV. tard your unrclcntiiipj pace ? Suffer me to enjoy this solt repose, alter all my fatigues in search of happiness. Sulfer me to satiate myself with these delicacies, after the pains of so long and so foolish an abstinence. But it will not do. The roses have lost their hue, the fruit its flavour, and that delicious wine, whose fumes so late intoxicated all my senses with such de- light, now solicits in vain the sated palate. Pleasure smiles at my languor. She beckons her sister, Virtue, to come to her assistance. The gay, the frolic Virtue, observes the call, and brings along the whole troop of my jovial friends. Welcome, thrice welcome, my ever dear companions, to these shady bowers, and to this luxurious repast. Your presence has restored to the rose its hue, and to the fruit its flavour. The vapours of this sprightly nectar now again ply round my heart; while you partake of my delights, and discover, in your cheerful looks, the pleasure wliich you receive from my happiness and satisfaction. The like do I re- ceive from yours ; and, encouraged by your joyous pre- sence, shall again renew the feast, with which, from too much enjoyment, my senses are well nigh sated, while the mind kept not pace with the body, nor af- forded relief to her overburdened partner. In our cheerful discourses, better than in the formal reasoning of the schools, is true wisdom to be found. In our friendly endearments, better than in the hollow debates of statesmen and pretended patriots, does true virtue display itself Forgetful of the past, secure of the future, let us here enjoy the present ; and while we yet j)ossess a being, let us fix some good, beyond the power of fate or fortmie. To-morrow will bring its own pk-asures along with it : Or, should it disappoint oui loud wishes, we sliall at least enjoy the pleasure of reflecting on the pleasures of to-day. THE EPICUREAN. 161 Fear not, my friends, that the barbarous dissonance of Bacchus, and of his revellers, should break in upon this entertainment, and confound us with their turbu- lent and clamorous pleasures. The sprightly Muses wait around, and, with their charming symphony, suf- ficient to soften the wolves and tigers of the savage de- sert, inspire a soft joy into every bosom. Peace, har- mony, and concord, reign in this retreat; nor is the silence ever broken but by the music of our songs, or the cheerful accents of our friendly voices. But hark ! the favourite of the Muses, the gentle Damon strikes the lyre ; and, while he accompanies its harmonious notes with his more harmonious song, he inspires us with the same happy debauch of fancy by which he is himself transported. ' Ye happy youth ! ' he sings, * Ye favoured of Heaven ! ' while the wanton spring pours upon you all her blooming honours, let not glory seduce you with her delusive blaze, to pass in perils and dangers this delicious season, this prime of life. Wisdom points out to you the road to plea- sure : Nature, too, beckons you to follow her in that smooth and flowery path. Will you shut your ears to their commanding voice ? Will you harden your heart to their soft allurements ? Oh, deluded mortals ! thus to lose your youth, thus to throw away so invaluable a present, to trifle with so perishhig a blessing. Con- template well your recompense. Consider that glory, which so allures your proud hearts, and seduces you with your own praises. It is an echo, a dream, nay ' An imitation of the Syrens song in Tasso : ' O Giovenetti, mentre Aprilc ct Maggio V ammantan di fiorite et verde spoglic, ' &c. Giuresalemme Liberata, Canto 14. VOL. III. L 162 ESSAY XV. the shadow of a dream, dissipated by eveiy wind, and lost by every contrary breath of the ignorant and ill- judging multitude. You fear not that even death itself shall ravish it from you. But behold ! while you are yet alive, calumny bereaves you of it; ignorance ne- glects it ; nature enjoys it not ; fancy alone, renounc- ing every pleasure, receives this airy recompense, empty and unstable as herself. ' Thus the hours pass unperceived along, and lead in their wanton train all the pleasures of sense, and all the joys of harmony and friendship. Smiling Inno- cence closes the procession; and, while she presents herself to our ravished eyes, she embellishes the whole scene, and renders the view of these pleasures as tran- sporting after they have past us, as when, with laugh- ing countenances, they were yet advancing towards us. But the sun has sunk below the horizon ; and dark- ness, stealing silently upon us, has now buried all na- ture in an universal shade. ' Rejoice, my friends, con- tinue your repast, or change it for soft repose. Though absent, your joy or your tranquillity shall still be muie. ' But ixhitlicr do you go ? Or u/iat nexc pleasures call you from our society ? Is there aught agreeable tsoithout your friends ? And can aught please in "vchich 'iSie partake not ? * Yes, my friends, the joy which I now seek admits not of your participation. Here alone I wish your absence : And here alone can I find a sufficient com-t pensation for the loss of your society. ' But I have not advanced far through the shades of the thick wood, which spreads a double night around me, ere, methinks, I perceive through the gloom the charming Caelia, tlie mistress of my wishes, who wanders impatient through the grove, and, preventing the appointed liour, silently chides my tardy steps. THE EPICUREAN. 163 But the joy which she receives from my presence best pleads my excuse, and, dissipating every anxious and every angry thought, leaves room for nought but mu- tual joy and rapture. With what words, my fair one, shall I express my tenderness, or describe the emotions which now warm my transported bosom ! Words are too faint to describe my love ; and if, alas ! you feel not the same flame within you, in vain shall I endea- vour to convey to you a just conception of it. But your every word and every motion suffice to remove this doubt ; and while they express your passion, serve also to inflame mine. How amiable this solitude, this silence, this darkness ! No objects now importune the ravished soul. The thought, the sense, all full of no- thing but our mutual happiness, wholly possess the mind, and convey a pleasure which deluded mortals vainly seek for in every other enjoyment. But why does your bosom heave with these sighs, while tears bathe your glowing cheeks ? Why distract your heart with such vain anxieties ? Why so often ask me, Hoxso long my love shall yet endure ? Alas ! my Caelia, can I resolve this question ? Do I hnonso hmso lo7ig my life shall yet endure ? But does this also disturb your tender breast? And is the image of our frail mortality for ever present with you, to throw a damp on your gayest hours, and poison even those joys which love inspires ? Consider rather, that if life be frail, if youth be transitory, we should well employ the present moment, and lose no part of so perishable an existence. Yet a little moment, and these shall be no more. We shall be as if we had never been. Not a memory of us be left upon earth ; and even the fabu- lous shades below will not afford us a habitation. Our fruitless anxieties, our vain projects, our uncertain spe- l2 164< ESSAY XV. culations, shall all be swallowed up and lost. Our pre- sent doubts, concerning the original cause of all things, must never, alas ! be resolved. This alone we may be certain of, that if any governing mind preside, he must be pleased to see us fulfil the ends of our being, and enjoy that pleasure for which alone we were created. Let this reflection give ease to your anxious thoughts ; but render not your joys too serious, by dwelling for ever upon it. It is sufficient once to be acquainted with this philosophy, in order to give an unbounded loose to love and jollity, and remove all the scruples of a vain superstition : But while youth and passion, my fair one, prompt our eager desires, we must find gayer subjects of discourse to intermix with these a- morous caresses. THE STOIC. 165 ESSAY XVI. THE STOIC. ■" There is this obvious and material difference in the conduct of nature, with regard to man and other ani- mals, that, having endowed the former with a sublime celestial spirit, and having given him an affinity with superior beings, she allows not such noble faculties to lie lethargic or idle, but urges him by necessity to em- ploy, on every emergence, his utmost art and industry. Brute creatures have many of their necessities supplied by nature, being clothed and armed by this beneficent parent of all things : And where their own industry is requisite on any occasion, nature, by implanting in- stincts, still supplies them with the «r/, and guides them to their good by her unerring precepts. But man, exposed naked and indigent to the rude ele- ments, rises slowly from that helpless state by the care and vigilance of his parents ; and, having attained his utmost growth and perfection, reaches only a capacity of subsisting by his own care and vigilance. Every thing is sold to skill and labour ; and where nature furnishes the materials, they are still rude and unfi- nished, till industry, ever active and intelligent, refines '' Or the man of action and virtue. K)6 ESSAY XVI. them from their brute state, and fits them for human use and convenience. Acknowledge, therefore, O man ! the beneficence of nature ; for she has given thee that intelhgence which supplies all thy necessities. But let not indolence, un- der the false appearance of gratitude, persuade thee to rest contented with her presents. Wouldst thou re- turn to the raw herbage for thy food, to the open sky for thy covering, and to stones and clubs for thy de- fence against the ravenous animals of the desert ? Then return also to thy savage manners, to thy timo- rous superstition, to thy brutal ignorance, and sink thyself below those animals whose condition thou ad- mirest and wouldst so fondly imitate. Thy kind parent. Nature, having given thee art and intelligence, has filled the whole globe with materials to employ these talents. Harken to her voice, which so plainly tells thee that thou thyself shouldst also be the object of thy industry, and that by art and atten- tion alone thou canst acquire that ability which will raise thee to thy proper station in the universe. Be- hold this artisan who converts a rude and shapeless stone into a noble metal ; and, moulding that metal by his cunning hands, creates, as it were, by magic, every weapon for his defence, and every utensil for his con- venience. He has not this skill from nature : Use and practice have taught it him ; and if thou wouldst emu- late his success, thou must follow his laborious foot- steps. But wlxile tliou amhilionshj aspirest to perfecting thy bodily powers and faculties, wouldst thou meanly ne- glect thy mind, and, from a preposterous sloth, leave it still rude and uncultivated, as it came from the Iiands of nature? Far be, such folly and negligence from THE STOIC. 167 every rational beiiij^. \, If nature has been frugal in her gifts and endowments, there is the more need of art to supply her defects. If she has been generous and li- ^ beral, know that she still expects industry and applica- tion on our part, and revenges herself in proportion to our negligent ingratitude. The richest genius, like the most fertile soil, when uncultivated, shoots up into the ^ rankest weeds ; and instead of vines and olives for the pleasure and use of man, produces, to its slothful own- er, the most abundant crop of poisons.) The great end of all human industry, is the attain- ^ ment of happiness. For this were arts invented, sci- ences cultivated, laws ordained, and societies modelled, by the most profound wisdom of patriots and legisla- tors. Even the lonely savage, who lies exposed to the inclemency of the elements and the fury of wild beasts, forgets not, for a moment, this grand object of his be- ing. Ignorant as he is of every art of life, he still keeps in view the end of all those arts, and eagerly seeks for felicity amidst that darkness with which he is environed. But as much as the wildest savage is infe- rior to the polished citizen, who, under the protection /., of laws, enjoys every convenience which industry has invented, so much is this citizen himself inferior to the man of virtue, and the true philosopher, who governs ^^ his appetites, subdues his passions, and has learned, from reason, to set a just value on every pursuit and enjoyment. For is there an art and apprenticeship ne- cessary for every other attainment ? And is there no art of life, no rule, no pi-ecepts, to direct us in this principal concern ? Can no particular pleasure be at- tained without skill ; and can the whole be regulated, without reflection or intelligence, by the blind guid- ance of appetite and instinct ? Sure then no mistakes 168 ESSAY xvr. are ever committed in this affiiir ; but every man, how- ever dissohite and negh<yent, proceeds in the pursuit of ha})piness with as unerring a motion as that which the celestial bodies observe, when, conducted by the hand of the Almighty, they roll along the ethereal plains. But if mistakes be often, be inevitably committed, let us register these mistakes; let us consider their causes; let us weigh their importance ; let us inquire for their remedies. When from this we have fixed all the rules fof conduct, we are jihilosojihcrs. When we have re- duced these rules to practice, we are sages. Like many subordinate artists, employed to form the several wheels and springs of a machine, such are those who excel in all the particular arts of life. He is the master workman who puts those several parts together, moves them according to just harmony and proportion, and produces true felicity as the result of their conspir- ing order. While thou hast such an alluring object in view, shall that labour and attention, requisite to the attain- ment of thy end, ever seem burdensome and intoler- able? Know, that this labour itself is the chief ingre- dient of the felicity to which thou aspirest, and that every enjoyment soon becomes insipid and distasteful, when not acquired by fatigue and hidustry. See the hardy hunters rise from their downy couches, shake off the slumbers which still weigh down their heavy eye- lids, and, ere Aurora has yet covered the heavens with her flaming mantle, hasten to the forest. They leave behind, in their own houses, and in the neighbouring plains, animals of every kind, whose flesh furnishes the most delicious fare, and which offer themselves to the fatal stroke. Laborious man disdains so easy a pur- chase. He seeks for a prey, which hides itself from THE STOIC. 169 his search, or flies from his pursuit, or defends itself from his violence. Having exerted in the chase every passion of the mind, and every member of the body, he then finds the charms of repose, and with joy com- pares his pleasures to those of his engaging labours. And can vigorous industry give pleasure to the pur- suit even of the most worthless prey, which frequently escapes our toils ? And cannot the same industry ren- der the cultivatinsj of our mind, the moderatinc: of our passions, the enlightening of our reason, an agreeable occupation ; while we are every day sensible of our progress, and behold our inward features and counte- nance brightening incessantly with new charms ? Be- gin by curing yourself of this lethargic indolence ; the task is not difficult : You need but taste the sweets of honest labour. Proceed to learn the just value of every pursuit ; long study is not requisite : Compare, though but for once, the mind to the body, virtue to fortune, and glory to pleasure. You will then per- ceive the advantages of industry; you will then be sensible what are the proper objects of your industry. In vain do you seek repose from beds of roses : In vain do you hope for enjoyment from the most deli- cious wines and fruits. Your indolence itself becomes a fatigue ; your pleasure itself creates disgust. The mind, unexercised, finds every delight insipid and loathsome ; and ere yet the body, full of noxious hu- mours, feels the torment of its multiplied diseases, your nobler part is sensible of the invading poison, and seeks in vain to relieve its anxiety by new pleasures, which still augment the fatal malady. I need not tell you, that, by this eager pursuit of pleasure, you more and more expose yourself to for- tune and accidents, and rivet your affections on exter- 170 ESSAY XV 1. nal objects, which chance may, in a moment, ravish from you. I shall suppose that your indulgent stars favour you still with the enjoyment of your riches and possessions. I prove to you, that, even in the midst of your luxurious pleasures, you are unhappy; and that, by too much indulgence, you are incapable of enjoying what prosperous fortune still allows you to possess. But surely the instability of fortune is a considera- tion not to be overlooked or neglected. Happiness cannot possibly exist where there is no security ; and I security can have no place where fortune has any do- "minion. Though that unstable deity should not exert her rage against you, the dread of it would still tor- ment you ; would disturb your slumbers, haunt your dreams, and throw a damp on the jollity of your most delicious banquets. The temple of wisdom is seated on a rock, above the rage of the fighting elements, and inaccessible to all the malice of man. The rollinfj thunder breaks be- low ; and those more terrible instruments of human fury reach not to so sublime a height. The sage, while lie breathes that serene air, looks down with pleasure, mixed with compassion, on the errors of mistaken mortals, who blindly seek for the true path of life, and pursue riches, nobility, honour, or power, for genuine felicity. The greater part he beholds dis- appointed of their fond wishes : Some lament, that having once possessed the object of their desires, it is ravished from them by envious fortune ; and all com- plain, that even their own vows, though granted, can- not give them hap))iness, or relieve the anxiety of their distracted miiuls. But does the sage always pi'cserve himself in this THE STOIC. ITl philosopliical iiulifTerencc, and rest contented with la- menting tlie miseries of mankind, without ever employ- ing himself for their relief? Does he constantly in- dulge this severe wisdom, which, by pretending to ele- vate him above human accidents, does in reality har- den his heart, and render him careless of the interests of mankind, and of society ? No ; he knows that in this sullen Apathy neither true wisdom nor true happi- ness can be found. He feels too strongly the charm of the social affections, ever to counteract so sweet, so natural, so virtuous a propensity. Even when, bathed in tears, he laments the miseries of the human race, of his country, of his friends, and, unable to give suc- cour, can only relieve them by compassion ; he yet re- joices in the generous disposition, and feels a satisfac- tion superior to that of the most indulged sense. So engaging are the sentiments of humanity, that they brighten up the very face of sorrow, and operate like the sun, which, shining on a dusky cloud or falling rain, paints on them the most glorious colours which are to be found in the whole circle of nature. But it is not here alone that the social virtues display their energy. With whatever ingredient you mix them, they are still predominant. As sorrow cannot overcome them, so neither can sensual pleasure obscure them. The joys of love, however tumultuous, banish not the tender sentiments of sympathy and affection. They even derive their chief influence from that generous passion : and when presented alone, afford nothing to the unhappy mind but lassitude and disgust. Behold this sprightly debauchee, who professes a contempt of all other pleasures but those of wine and jollity : Se- parate him from his companions, like a spark from a fire, where before it contributed to the general blaze : 172 ESSAY XVI. His alacrity suddenly cxtinouishes ; and, though sur- i-ounded with every other means of delight, he loathes the sumptuous banquet, and prefers even the most ab- stracted study and speculation, as more agreeable and entertaining. But the social passions never afford such transport- ing pleasures, or make so glorious an appearance in the ej'es both of God and man, as when, shaking off every earthly mixture, they associate themselves with the sen- timents of virtue, and prompt us to laudable and wor- thy actions. As harmonious colours mutually give and receive a lustre by their friendly union, so do these en- nobling sentiments of the human mind. See the tri- umph of nature in parental affection ! What selfish pas- sion, what sensual delight is a match for it, whether a man exults in the prosperity and virtue of his offspring, or flies to their succour through the most threateniuir and tremendous dangers ? Proceed still in purifying the generous passion, you will still the more admire its shining glories. What charms are there in the harmony of minds, and in a friendship founded on mutual esteem and gratitude ! What satisfaction in relieving the distressed, in com- forting the alllicted, in raising the fallen, and in stop- ping the career of cruel fortune, or of more cruel man, in their insults over the good and virtuous ! (^But what supreme joy in the victories over vice as well as misery, when, by virtuous example or wise exhortation, our fellow-creatures are taught to govej'n their passions, re- form their vices, and subdue their worst enemies, which inhabit within their own bosoms !y But these objects are still too hmited for the human mind, which, being of celestial origin, swells with the divinest and most enlarged affections, and, carrying its THE STOIC. 173 attention beyond kindred and acquaintance, extends its benevolent wishes to the most distant posterity. It views liberty and laws as the source of human happiness, and devotes itself, with the utmost alacrity, to their guar- dianship and protection. Toils, dangers, death itself, carry their charms, when we brave them for the public good, and ennoble that being which we generously sa- crifice for the interests of our country. Happy the man whom indulgent fortune allows to pay to virtue what he owes to nature, and to make a generous gift of what must otherwise be ravished from him by cruel necessity. In the true sage and patriot are united whatever can distinguish human nature, or elevate mortal man to a resemblance with the Divinity. The softest benevo- lence, the most undaunted resolution, the tenderest sen- timents, the most sublime love of virtue, all these ani- mate successively his transported bosom. What satis- faction, when he looks within, to find the most turbu- lent passions tuned to just harmony and concord, and every jarring sound banished from this enchanting music! If the contemplation, even of inanimate beauty, is so de- lightful ; if it ravishes the senses, even when the fair form is foreign to us ; what must be the effects of moral beauty ? and what influence must it have, when it em- bellishes our own mind, and is the result of our own reflection and industry? But 'ivhere is the reward of virtue P Atid what recom- jyense has Nature ptwided for such important sacrifices as those of life and fortune, which we must often make to it P Oh, sons of earth ! Are ye ignorant of the va- lue of this celestial mistress ? And do ye meanly inquire for her portion, when ye observe her genuine charms ? But know, that Nature has been indulgent to human weakness, and has not left this favourite child naked ITt ESSAY xvr. and uneiulowcd. Slie has provided virtue with the richest dowry ; but being careful lest the allurements of interest should en<jao;e such suitors as were insensi- ble of the native worth of so divine a beauty, she has wisely provided, that this dowry can have no charms but in the eyes of those who are already transported with the love of virtue. Glory is the portion of virtue, the sweet reward of honourable toils, the triumphant crown which covers the thoughtful head of the disin- terested patriot, or the dusty brow of the victorious Avarrior. Elevated by so sublime a prize, the man of virtue looks down with contempt on all the allurements of pleasure, and all the menaces of danger. Death itself loses its terrors, when he considers, that its do- minion extends only over a part of him, and that, in spite of death and time, the rage of the elements, and the endless vicissitude of human affairs, he is assured of an immortal fame among all the sons of men. There surely is a Being who presides over the uni- verse, and who, with infinite wisdom and power, has reduced the jarring elements into just order and pro- portion. Let speculative reasoners dispute, how far tliis beneficent Being extends his care, and whether he prolongs our existence beyond the grave, in order to bestow on virtue its just reward, and render it fully tri- umphant. The man of morals, without deciding any thing on so dubious a subject, is satisfied with the por- tion marked out to him by the Supreme Disposer of all things. Gratefully he accepts of that farther re- ward prepared for him ; but if disappointed, he tliinks not virtue an empty name ; but, justly esteeming it its own reward, he gratefully acknowledges the bounty of liis Creator, who, by calling him into existence, has thereby afforded him an opportunity of once ac(juiring so invalualile a possession. THE PLATO N I ST. 115 ESSAY XVII. THE PLATONIST, ' To some philosophers it appears matter of surprise, that all mankind, possessing the same nature, and be- ing endowed with the same faculties, should yet differ so widely in their pursuits and inclinations, and that one should utterly condemn what is fondly sought after by another. To some it appears matter of still more surprise, that a man should differ so widely from him- self at different times ; and, after possession, reject with disdain what before was -the object of all his vows and wishes. To me this feverish uncertainty and irresolu- tion, in human conduct, seems altogether unavoidable; nor can a rational soul, made for the contemplation of the Supreme Being, and of his works, ever enjoy tran- (juillity or satisfaction, while detained in the ignoble pursuits of sensual pleasure or popular applause. The Divinity is a boundless ocean of bliss and glory : Hu- man minds are smaller streams, which, arising at first from this ocean, seek still, amid all their wanderings, to return to it, and to lose themselves in that immensi- ty of perfection. When checked in this natural course Or the man of contemplation and philosophical devotiono 1T6 ESSAY XVII. by vice or folly, they become furious and enraged ; and, swelling to a torrent, do then spread horror and devas- tation on the neighbouring plains. In vain, by pompous phrase and passionate expres- sion, each recommends his own pursuit, and invites the credulous hearers to an imitation of his life and man- ners. The heart belies the countenance, and sensibly feels, even amid the highest success, the unsatisfactory nature of all those pleasures which detain it from its true object. I examine the voluptuous man before en- joyment ; I measure the vehemence of his desire, and the importance of his object ; I find that all his happi- ness proceeds only from that hurry of thought, which takes him from himself, and turns his view from his guilt and misery. I consider him a moment after; he has now enjoyed the pleasure which he fondly sought after. The sense of his guilt and misery returns upon him with double anguish : His mind tormented with fear and remorse ; his body depressed with disgust and satiety. But a more august, at least a more hauglity person- age, presents himself boldly to our censure ; and, as- suming the title of a philosopher and man of morals, offers to submit to the most rigid examination. He challenges with a visible, though concealed impatience, our approbation and applause ; and seems offended, that we should hesitate a moment before we break out into admiration of his virtue. Seeing this impatience, I hesitate still more ; I begin to examine the motives of his seeming virtue : But, behold ! ere I can enter upon this inquiry, he flings himself from me; and, ad- dressing his discourse to that crowd of heedless audi- tors, fondly annises them by liis magnificent preten- sions. THE PLATONIST. 177 O philosopher ! thy wisdom is vain, and thy virtue unprofitable. Thou seekest the ignorant applauses of men, not the solid reflections of thy own conscience, or the more solid approbation of that Being, who, with one regard of his all-seeing eye, penetrates the uni- verse. Thou surely art conscious of the hollowness of thy pretended probity ; whilst calling thyself a citizen, a son, a friend, thou forgettest thy higher sovereign, thy true father, thy greatest benefactor. Where is the adoration due to infinite perfection, whence every thing good and valuable is derived ! "Where is the gratitude owing to thy Creator, who called thee forth from no- thing, who placed thee in all these relations to thy fel- low-creatures, and, requiring thee to fulfil the duty of each relation, forbids thee to neglect what thou owest to himself, the most perfect being, to whom thou art connected by the closest tie ? But thou art thyself thy own idol. Thou worshippest thy imaginary perfections ; or rather, sensible of thy real imperfections, thou seekest only to deceive the world, and to please thy fancy, by multiplying thy ig- norant admirers. Thus, not content with neglecting what is most excellent in the universe, thou desirest to substitute in his place what is most vile and contempt- ible. Consider all the works of mens hands, all the inven- tions of human wit, in which thou aifectest so nice a discernment. Thou wilt find, that the most perfect production still proceeds from the most perfect thought, and that it is mind alone which we admire, while we bestow our applause on the graces of a well-propor- tioned statue, or the symmetry of a noble pile. The statuary, the architect, come still in view, and makes lis reflect on the beauty of his art and contrivance, VOL. iir. M 1*8 ESSAY xvir. which, from a lieap of unformcci matter, coirld extract such expressions and proportions. This sirjierior beau- ty of thought and intelli<rence thou thyself acknowledjj- est, while thou inyitest us to contemplate, in thy con- duct, tlic harmony of allections, the dignity of senti- ments, and all those graces of a mind which chiefly merit our attention. But why stoppest thou short ? Seest thou nothing farther that is valuable ? Amid tliy rapturous ap})lauses of beauty and order, art thou still iirnorant where is to be found the most consum- mate beauty, the most perfect order ? Compare the works of art with those of nature. The one are but imitations of the other. The nearer art approaches to nature, the more perfect is it esteemed, liut still how wide are its nearest approaches, and what an immense interval may be observed between them ! Art c(^pies only the outside of nature, leaving the inward and more admirable springs and principles as exceeding lier imitation, as beyond her comjirehension. Art co- pies only the minute productions of nature, despairing to reach that grandeur and ma<rnificence which are so astonishing in the masterly works of her original. Can we then be so blind as not to discover an intelligence and a design in the exquisite and most stujiendous contrivance of the universe? Can we be so stupid as not to feel the warmest raj)tures of worship and adora- tion upon the contemplation of that intelligent Being, so infinitely good and wise? The most ))erfect hapj)iness surely must arise from the contemplation of the most perfect object. But what more perfect than beauty and virtue? And where is beauty to be found e(jual to that of the mnverse, or virtue which can be compared to tiic benevolence and justice of tile Deity? If :ujght can diminish the plea- THE PLATONIST. 179 sure of this contemplation, it must be either the nar- rowness of our faculties, which conceals from us the greatest part of these beauties and perfections, or the shortness of our lives, which allows not time sufficient to instruct us in them. But it is our comfort, that if we employ worthily the faculties here assigned us, they will be enlarged in another state of existence, so as to render us more suitable worshippers of our Maker ; and that the task, which can never be finished in time, will be the business of an eternity. M 3 180 ESSAY XVIII. ESSAY xviir. THE SCEPTIC. I HAVE long entertained a suspicion witli regard tor the decisions of philosophers upon all subjects, and found in myself a greater inclination to dispute than assent to their conclusions. There is one mistake to which they seem liable, almost without exception ; they confine too much their principles, and make no account of that vast variety which nature has so much affected in all her operations. When a philosopher has once laid hold of a favourite principle, which perhaps ac- counts for many natural effects, he extends the same principle over the whole creation, and reduces to it every phenomenon, though by the most violent and absurd reasoning. Our own mind beinij narrow and contracted, we cannot extend our conception to the va- riety and extent of nature, but imagine that she is as much bounded in her operations as wc are in our spe- culation. But if ever this infirmity of philosophers is to be suspected on any occasion, it is in their reasonings concerning hununi life, and the methods of attaining liappiness. In that case they are led astray, not only by the narrowness of their understandings, but by that also of tlieir passions. Almost every one has a predo- THE SCEPTIC. 181 minant inclination, to which his other desires and af- fections submit, and which governs him, though per- haps with some intervals, through the whole course of his life. It is difficult for him to apprehend, that any thing which appears totally indifferent to him can ever give enjoyment to any person, or can possess charms which altogether escape his observation. His own pursuits are always, in his account, the most engaging, the objects of his passion the most valuable, and the road which he pursues the only one that leads to hap- piness. But would these prejudiced reasoners reflect a mo- ment, there are many obvious instances and arguments sufficient to undeceive them, and make them enlarge their maxims and principles. Do they not see the vast variety of inclinations and pursuits among our species, where each man seems fully satisfied with his own course of life, and would esteem it the greatest unhappiness to be confined to that of his neighbour ? Do they not feel in themselves, that what pleases at one time, displeases at another, by the change of incli- nation, and that it is not in their power, by their ut- most efforts, to recal that taste or appetite which for- merly bestowed charms on what now appears indiffer- ent or disagreeable ? What is the meaning therefore of those general preferences of the town or country life, of a life of action or one of pleasure, of retirement or society ; when, besides the different inclinations of different men, every one's experience may convince him that each of these kinds of life is agreeable in its turn, and that their variety or their judicious mixture chiefly contributes to the rendering all of them agree- able? But shall this business be allowed to go altogether at 182 ESSAY XVIII. adventures i and must a man only consult his humour and inclination, in order to determine his course of lite, without employing his reason to inform him what road is preferable, and leads most surely to happiness? Is there no difference, then, between one man's con- duct and another? I answer, there is a great difference. One man, fol- lowing his inclination, in choosing his course of life, may employ much surer means for succeeding than an- other, who is led by his inclination into the same course of life, and pursues the same object. (Are riches the chief object of your desires P Acquire skillMn your profession ; be diligent in the exercise of it; enlarge the circle of your friends and acquaintance ; avoid pleasure and ex- pense ; and never be generous, but with a view of gain- ing more than you could save by frugality. Woidd you acquire the public esteem ? Guard equally against the extremes of arrogance and fawning. Let it appear that you set a value upon yourself, but without despising others. If you fall into either of the extremes, you either provoke men's pride by your insolence, or teach them to despise you by your timorous submission, and by the mean opinion which you seem to entertain of yourself. I These, you say, are the maxims of common prudence and discretion ; what every parent inculcates on his child, and what every man of sense pursues in the course of life which he has chosen. — What is it then you desire more? Do you come to a philosopher as to a cjmni?ig man, to learn something by magic or witch- craft, beyond what can be known by common prudence and discretion? — Yes; we come to a philosopher to be instructed, how we shall choose our ends, more than l-he means for attaining these ends : We want to knovv THfi SCEPTIC. 183 whiit desire we shall gratify, what passion we shall com- ply with, what appetite we shall indulge. As to the rest, we trust to common sense, and the general ma- xims of the world, for our instruction. I am sorry, then, I have pretended to be a philoso- pher ; for I find your questions very perplexing, and am in danger, if my answer be too rigid and severe, of passing for a pedant and scholastic ; if it be too easy and free, of being taken for a preacher of vice and im- morality. However, to satisfy you, I shall deliver my opinion upon the matter, and shall only desire you to esteem it of as little consequence as I do myself. By that means you will neither think it worthy of your ri- dicule nor your anger. If we can depend upon any principle which we learn from philosophy, this, I think, may be considei'ed as certain and undoubted, that there is nothing, in itself, valuable or despicable, desirable or hateful, beautiful or deformed ; but that these attributes arise from the particular constitution and fabric of human sentiment and affection. What seems the most delicious food to one animal, appears loathsome to another ; what affects the feeling of one with delight, produces uneasiness in another. This is confessedly the case with regard to all the bodily senses. But, if we examine the matter more accurately, we shall find that the same observa- tion holds even where the mind concurs with the body, and mingles its sentiment with the exterior appetite. Desire this passionate lover to give you a character of his mistress : he will tell you, that he is at a loss for words to describe her charms, and will ask you very seriously, if ever you were acquainted with a goddess or an angel ? If you answer that you never were, he will then say that it is impossible for you to forni a con- 181 ESSAY XVIII. ception of such divine beauties as those which his char- mer possesses ; so complete a shape ; such well-propor- tioned features ; so engaging an air ; such sweetness of disposition ; such gaiety of humour. You can infer nothing, however, from all this discourse, but that the poor man is in love ; and that the general appetite be-r tween the sexes, which nature has infused into all ani- mals, is in him determined to a particular object by some qualities which give him pleasure. The same di- vine creature, not only to a different animal, but also to a different man, appears a mere mortal being, and is beheld with the utmost indifference. Nature has given all animals a like prejudice in favour ^ of their offspring. As soon as the helpless infant sees the light, though in every other eye it appears a despi- cable and a miserable creature, it is regarded by its fond parent with the utmost affection, and is preferred to every other object, however perfect and accomplished. The passion alone, arising from the original structure J. and formation of human nature, bestows a value on the most insignificant object. We may push the same observation farther, and may conclude that, even when the mind operates alone, and feeling the sentiment ol' blame or approbation, pronoun- ces one object deformed and odious, another beautiful and amiable ; I say that, even in this case, those qua- lities are not really in the objects, but belong entirely to the sentiment of tiiat mind which blames or praises. I grant, that it will be more difficult to make this pro- position evident, and, as it were, ]ialpable, to negligent thinkers ; because nature is more uniform in the senti- ments of the mind than in most I'eelings of the body, and produces a nearer resemblance in the inward than in the outward i)art of human kind. I'here is some- THE SCEPTIC. 185 thing approaching to principles in mental taste; and critics can reason and dispute more plausibly than cooks or perfumers. We may observe, however, that this uniformity among human kind hinders not, but that there is a considerable diversity in the sentiments of beauty and worth, and that education, custom, preju- dice, caprice, and humour, frequently vary our taste of this kind. You will never convince a man, who is not accustomed to Italian music, and has not an ear to fol- low its intricacies, that a Scots tune is not preferable. You have not even any single argument beyond your own taste, which you can employ in your behalf: And to your antagonist his particular taste will always ap- pear a more convincing argument to the contrary. If you be wise, each of you will allow that the other may be in the right ; and having many other instances of this diversity of taste, you will both confess, that beauty and worth are merely of a relative nature, and consist in an agreeable sentiment, produced by an object in a particular mind, according to the peculiar structure and constitution of that mind. By this diversity of sentiment, observable in human kind, nature has, perhaps, intended to make us sen- , sible of her authority, and let us see what surprising changes she could produce on the passions and desires of mankind, merely by the change of their inward fa- bric, without any alteration on the objects. The vul- gar may even be convinced by this argument. But men, accustomed to thinking, may draw a more con- vincing, at least a more general argument, from the very nature of the subject. In the operation of reasoning, the mind does nothing but run over its objects, as they are supposed to stand in reality, without adding any thing to them, or dinii- 186 KSbAY XVllJ. iiishinu: anv tlun<r I'lom ihein. If I examine the Ptolo^ maic and Copernican systems, I endeavour only, by my inquiries, to know the real situation of the planets; that is, in other words, I endeavour to give them, in my conception, the same relations that they bear to- wards each other in the heavens. To this operation of the mind, therefore, there seems to be always a real, though often an unknown standard, in the nature of things ; nor is truth or falsehood variable by the vari- ous apprehensions of mankind. Though all human race should for ever conclude that the sun moves, and ^ the earth remains at rest, the sun stirs not an inch from his place for all these reasonings ; and such con- clusions are eternally false and erroneous. But the case is not the same with the qualities of hecnitiful and deformed^ desirable and odious, as with truth and falsehood. In the former case, the mind is not content with merely surveying its objects, as they stand in themselves ; It also feels a sentiment of de- light or uneasiness, approbation or blame, consequent to that survey ; and this sentiment determines it to affix the epitliet beautiful or deformed, desirable w odio2is. Now, it is evident, that this sentiment must depend upon the particular fabric or structure of the mind, which enables such particular forms to operate in such a particular manner, and produces a sympathy or con- formity between the mind and its objects. Vary the structure of the mind or inward organs, the sentiment no longer follows, though the form remains the same. The sentiment being different from the object, and arising from its operation upon the organs of the mind, ' an alteration upon the latter must vary the efl'ect; nor can the same object, presented to a mind totally diller- eflt, produce the same sentiment. THE SCEPTIC. 187 This conclusion every one is apt to draw of himself, without much philosophy, where the sentiment is evi- dently distinguishable from the object. Who is not sensible that power, and glory, and vengeance, are not desirable of themselves, but derive all their value from the structure of human passions, which begets a desire towards such particular pursuits ? But with regard to beauty, either natural or moral, the case is commonly supposed to be different. The agreeable quality is thought to lie in the object, not in the sentiment ; and that merely because the sentiinent is not so turbulent and violent as to distinguish itself, in an evident man- ner, from the perception of the object. But a little reflection suffices to distinmiish them. A man may know exactly all the circles and ellipses of the Copernican system, and all the irregular spirals of the Ptolomaic, without perceiving that the former is more beautiful than the latter. Euclid has fully ex- plained every quality of the circle, but has not, in any pro})osition, said a word of its beauty. The reason is evident. Beauty is not a quality of the circle. It lies not in any part of the line, 'whose parts are all equally distant from a common centre. It is onlj^ the effect, which that figure produces upon a mind, whose parti- cular fabric or structure renders it susceptible of such sentiments.- In vain would you look for it hi the cir- cle, or seek it, either by your senses, or by mathemati- cal reasonings, in all the properties of that figure. The mathematician, who took no other pleasure in reading Virgil, but that of examining iEneas's voyage by the map, might perfectly understand the meaning of every Latin word employed by that divine author ; and, consequently, might have a distinct idea of tlie whole narration. He would even have a more distinct 188 ESSAY XVIII. idea of it, than they could attain wlio had not studied so exactly the geography ot" the poem. He knew, therefore, every thing in the poem : But he was igno- rant of its beauty, because the beauty, properly speak- ing, lies not in the poem, but in the sentiment or taste ot" the reader. And where a man has no such delicacy of temper as to make him feel this sentiment, he must be ignorant of the beauty, though possessed of the science and understanding of an angel. "' The inference upon the whole is, that it is not from the value or worth of the object which any person pur- sues, that we can determine his enjoyment, but merely from the passion with which he pursues it, and the suc- cess which he meets with in his pursuit. Objects have absolutely no worth or value in themselves. They de- rive their worth merely from the passion. If that be strong and steady, and successful, the person is happy. It cannot reasonably be doubted, but a little miss, dressed in a new gown for a dancing-school ball, re- ceives as complete enjoyment as the greatest orator^ who triumphs in the splendour of his eloquence, while "' Wure I not afraid of appearing too pbilosopl)ical, I should remind my reader of tliat famous doctrine, supposed to be fully proved in mo- dern times, ' That tastes and colours, and all other sensible qualities, lie not in the bodies, but merely in the senses.' The case is the same with beauty and deformity, virtue and vice. This doctrine, however, takes off no more from the reality of the latter qualities, than from that of the former; nor need it give any umbrage either to critics or moralists. Though colours were allowed to lie only in the eye, would dyers or painters ever be less regarded or esteemed ? There is a sufficient uni- formity in the senses and feelings of mankind, to make all these qualities the objects of art and reasoning, and to have the greatest influence on life and manners. And as it is certain, that the discovery above men- tioned in natural philosophy, makes no alteration on action and conduct, wby should a like discovery in moral philosophy make any alteration ? THE SCEPTIC. 189 he governs the passions and resolutions of a numerous assembly. All the difference, therefore, between one man and another, with regard to life, consists either in the j'^'s- S1071, or in the enjoyment : And these differences are sufficient to produce the wide extremes of happiness and misery. To be happy, the passio7i must neither be too vio- lent, nor too remiss. In the first case, the mind is in a perpetual hurry and tumult ; in the second, it sinks into a disagreeable indolence and lethargy. To be happy, the passion must be benign and social, not rough or fierce. The affections of the latter kind are not near so agreeable to the feeling as those of the former. Who will compare rancour and animosity, envy and revenge, to friendship, benignity, clemency, and gratitude ? To be happy, the passion must be cheerful and gay, not gloomy and melancholy. A propensity to hope and joy is real riches ; one to fear and sorrow, real poverty. Some passions or inclinations, in the enjoyment of their object, are not so steady or constant as others, nor convey such durable pleasure and satisfaction. Phi- losophical devotion, for instance, like the enthusiasm of a poet, is the transitory effect of high spirits, great lei- sure, a fine genius, and a habit of study and contem- plation : But notwithstanding all these circumstances, an abstract, invisible object, like that which natural re- ligion alone presents to us, cannot long actuate the mind, or be of any moment in life. To render the pas- sion of continuance, we must find some method of af- fecting the senses and imagination, and must embrace some historical as well as philosophical account of the 100 ESSAY XVIII. Divinity. Popular superstitions and observances are even found to be of use in this particular. Though the tempers of men be very different, yet we may safely pronounce in general, that a life of pleasure cannot support itself so long as one of business, but is nnich more subject to satiety and disgust. The amuse- ments which are the most durable, have all a mixture of application and attention in them ; such as gaming and hunting. And in general, business and action fill up all the great vacancies in human life. But where the temper is the best disposed for any enjoyment, the object is often wanting : And in this re- spect, the passions, which pursue external objects, con- tribute not so much to happiness as those which rest in ourselves ; since we are neither so certain of attaining such objects, nor so secure in possessing them. A pas- sion for learning is preferable, with regard to happi- ness, to one for riches. Some men are possessed of great strength of mind ; and even when they pursue external objects, are not nuich affected by a disappointment, but renew their application and industry with the greatest cheerfulness. Nothing contributes more to happiness than such a turn of mind. According to this short and imperfect sketch of hu- man life, the happiest disposition of mind is the nirtu- ous ; or, in other words, that which leads to action and employment, renders us sensible to the social passions, steels the heart against the assaults of fortune, reduces the affections to a just moderation, makes our own thoughts an entertainment to us, and inclines us rather to the pleasures of society and conversation than to those of the senses. This, in the mean time, must be obvious to the most careless reasoner, that all disposi- THE SCEPTIC. 191 lions of mind are not alike favourable to happiness, aiitl that one passion or humour may be extremely de- sirable, while another is equally disagreeable. And, indeed, all the difference between the conditions of life depends upon the mind ; nor is there any one situation of affairs, in itself, preferable to another. Good and ill, both natural and moral, are entirely relative to hu- man sentiment and affection. No man would ever be unhappy, could he alter his feelings. Proteus-like, he would elude all attacks, by the continual alterations of his shape and form. But of this resource nature has, in a great measure, deprived us. The fabric and constitution of our mind no more depends on our choice, than that of our body. The generality of men have not even the smallest no- tion that any alteration in this respect can ever be de- sirable. As a stream necessarily follows the several inclinations of the ground on which it runs, so are the ignorant and thoughtless part of mankind actuated by their natural propensities. Such are effectually ex- cluded from all pretensions to philosophy, and the me- dicine of the mind, so much boasted. But even upon the wise and thoughtful, nature has a prodigious influ- ence ; nor is it always in a man's power, by the utmost art and industry, to correct his temper, and attain that virtuous character to which he aspires. The empire of philosophy extends over a few ; and with regard to these too, her authority is very weak and limited. Men may well be sensible of the value of virtue, and may desire to attain it ; but it is not always certain that they will be successful in their wishes. Whoever considers, without prejudice, the course of human actions, will find, that mankind are almost entirely guided by constitution and temper, and that 192 ESSAY XVI I r. general maxims have little influence, but so far as they affect our taste or sentiment. It" a man have a lively sense of honour and virtue, with moderate passions, his conduct will always be conformable to the rules of morality : or if he depart from them, his return will be eas}' and expeditious. On the other hand, where one is born of so perverse a frame of mind, of so cal- lous and insensible a disposition, as to have no relish for virtue and humanity, no sympathy with his fellow- creatures, no desire of esteem and applause, such a one must be allowed entirely incurable ; nor is there any remedy in philosophy. He reaps no satisfaction but from low and sensual objects, or from the indul- gence of malignant passions : He feels no remorse to control his vicious inclinations : He has not even that sense or taste, which is requisite to make him desire a better character. For my part, I know not how I should address myself to such a one, or by what ar- guments I should endeavour to reform him. Should I tell him of the inward satisfaction which results from laudable and humane actions, and delicate pleasure of disinterested love and friendship, the lasting enjoy- ments of a good name and an established character, he might still reply, that these were, perhaps, pleasures to such as were susceptible of them ; but that, for his part, he finds himself of a quite different turn and dis- position. I must repeat it, tny philosophy affords no remedy in such a case ; nor could I do an}' thing but lament this person's unhajipy condition. But then I ask, If any other philosophy can afford a remedy; or if it l)e possible, by any system, to render all mankind virtuous, however perverse may be their natural frame of mind? Experience will soon convince us of the con- trary ; and I will venture to affirm, that, perhaps, the I THE SCEPTIC. 193 chief benefit which results from philosophy, arises in an indirect manner, and proceeds more from its secret insensible influence, than from its immediate applica- tion. It is certain, that a serious attention to the sciences and liberal arts soi'tens and humanizes the temper, and cherishes those fine emotions, in which true virtue and honour consists. It rarely, very rarely happens, that a man of taste and learning is not, at least, an honest man, whatever frailties may attend him. The bent of his mind to speculative studies must mortify in him the passions of interest and ambition, and must, at the same time, give him a greater sensibility of all the de- cencies and duties of life. He feels more fully a moral distinction in characters and manners ; nor is his sense of this kind diminished, but, on the contrary, it is much increased, b}'' speculation. Besides such insensible changes upon the temper and disposition, it is highly probable, that others may be produced by study and application. The prodigious effects of education may convince us, that the mind is not altogether stubborn and inflexible, but will admit of many alterations from its original make and struc- ture. Let a man propose to himself the model of a character which he approves : Let him be well ac- quainted with those particulars in which his own cha- racter deviates from this model : Let him keep a con- stant watch over himself, and bend his mind, by a con- tinual effort, from the vices, towards the virtues ; and I doubt not but, in time, he will find, in his temper, an alteration for the better. Habit is another powerful means of reforming the mind, and implanting in it good dispositions and in- clinations. A man, who continues in a course of so- VOL. III. N 194 ESSAY XVIII. briety and temperance, will hate riot and disorder : If he engage in business or stud}', indolence will seem a punishment to him : If lie constrain himself to practise beneficence and affability, he will soon abhor all in- stances of pride and violence. Where one is thorough- ly convinced that the virtuous course of life is prefer- able ; if he have but resolution enough, for some time, to impose a violence on himself; his reformation needs not be despaired of. The misfortune is, that this con- viction and this resolution never can have place, un- less a man be, before hand, tolerably virtuous. Here then is the chief triumph of art and philoso- phy : It insensibly refines the temper, and it points out to us those dispositions which we should endea- vour to attain, by a constant bent of mind, and by re- peated habit. Beyond this I cannot acknowledge it to have great influence ; and I must entertain doubts con- cerning all those exhortations and consolations, which are in such vogue among speculative reasoners. We have already observed, that no objects are, in themselves, desirable or odious, valuable or despi- cable ; but that objects acquire these qualities from the particular character and constitution of the mind which surveys them. To diminish, therefore, or augment any person's value for an object, to excite or moderate his passions, there are no direct arguments or reasons, which can be employed with any force or influence. The catching of flies, like Domitian, if it give more pleasure, is preferable to the hunting of wild beasts, like William Rufus, or conquering of kingdoms like Alexander. But though the value of every object can be deter- mined only by the sentiment or passion of every indi- vidual, we may observe, that the passion, in pronounc- THE SCEPTIC. 195 ing its verdict, considers not the object simply, as it is in itself, but surveys it with all the circumstances which attend it. A man, transported with joy on ac- count of his possessing a diamond, confines not his view to the glittering stone before him. He a\sp con- siders its rarity ; and thence chiefly arises his pleasure and exultation. Here, therefore, a philosopher may step in, and suggest particular views, and considera- tions, and circumstances, which otherwise would have escaped us, and by that means he may either moderate or excite any particular passion. It may seem unreasonable absolutely to deny the au- thority of philosophy in this respect : But it must be confessed, that there lies this strong presumption a- gainst it, that, if these views be natural and obvious, they would have occurred of themselves without the assistance of philosophy : if they be not natural, they never can have any influence on the affections. These are of a very delicate nature, and cannot be forced or constrained by the utmost art or industry. A consi- deration which we seek for on purpose, which we en- ter into with difficulty, which we cannot retain without care and attention, will never produce those genuine and durable movements of passion which are the re- sult of natui'e, and the constitution of the mind. A man may as well pretend to cure himself of love, by viewing his mistress through the artificial medium of a microscope or prospect, and beholding there the coarseness of her skin, and monstrous disproportion of her features, as hope to excite or moderate any pas- sion by the artijicial arguments of a Seneca or an Epictetus. The remembrance of the natural aspect and situation of the object will, in both cases, still re- cur upon him. The reflections of philosophy are too n2 196 ESSAY XVIIf. subtile and distant to take place in common life, or eradicate any affection. The air is too fine to breathe in, where it is above the winds and clouds of the at- mosphere. Another defect of those refined reflections which philosophy suggests to us, is, that commonly they can- not diminish or extinguish our vicious passions, with- out diminishinir or extin<i;uishing such as are virtuous, and rendering the mind totally indiflerent and inac- tive. They are, for the most part, general, and are applicable to all our affections. In vain do we hope to direct their influence only to one side. If by inces- sant study and meditation we have rendered them inti- mate and present to us, they will operate throughout, and spread an universal insensibility over the mind. When we destroy the nerves, we extinguish the sense of pleasure, together with that of pain, in the human body. It will be easy, by one glance of the eye, to find one or other of these defects in most of those phi- losophical reflections, so much celebrated both in an- cient and modern times. Let not tJic injuries or vio- lence of men, say the philosophers, " ever disconqwse you by anger or hatred. Would you he angry at the ape for its malice, or the tiger for its ferocity ? This re- flection leads us into a bad opinion of human nature, and must extinguish the social affections. It tends also to prevent all remorse for a man's own crimes, when he considers that vice is as natural to mankind as the particular instincts to brute creatures. All ills arise from the oider of the universe, isohich is absolutely jicrfect. Would you wish to dislurb so divine " I'l.rr. JJc Ira cnltibcndu. THE SCEPTIC. 197 an order for the sake of your oicn imrticular interest ? What if the ills I suffer arise from malice or op})res- sion ? But the vices and imperfections of men are also comprehended in the order of the utiiverse. If plagues and earthquakes break not heaven's design, Why then a Borgia or a Catiline? Let this be allowed, and my own vices will also be a part of the same order. To one who said that none were happy who were not above opinion, a Spartan replied, The?i none are happy hut hiaves and robbers. ° Man is borii to be miserable ; and is he surprised at any particular misfortune ? And can he give 'way to S07T0W and lamentation tipon account of any disaster ? Yes : He very reasonably laments that he should be born to be miserable. Your consolation presents a hundred ills for one, of which you pretend to ease him. You should always have before your eyes deaths dis- ease, poverty, blindness^ exile, calumny, and infamy, as ills which are incident to hu?nan nature. If any one of these ills fall to your lot, you will bear it the better when you have reckoned upon it. I answer, if we confine our- selves to a general and distant reflection on the ills of human life, that can have no effect to prepare us for them. If by close and intense meditation we render them present and intimate to us, that is the true secret for poisoning all our pleasures, and rendering us per- petually miserable. Your sorrow is fruitless, and will not change the course of destiny. Very true ; and for that very reason I am sorry. " Plui. Lacon. ylpophlheg. 198 ESSAY XVIII. Cicero's consolation for deafness is somewhat curi- ous. Hox^o many languages arc therc^ says he, 'which you do not understand ? The Punic, Sjmnish, Gallic, Egyptian, Sfc. With regard to all these, you are as if you iccrc deaf, yet you are indifferent about the matter. Is it then so great a misfortiinc to he deaf to one lan- guage more P ^ I like better the repartee of Antipater the Cyrenaic, when some women were condoling with him for his blindness : What ! says he, Do you think there are no jdcasurcs iri the dark ? Nothing can he more destructive, says Fontenelle, to ambition, and the passion for conquest, than the true system of astronomy. What a poor thing is even the ischole globe iti comj^arison of the infinite extent of na- ture ! This consideration is evidently too distant ever to have any effect ; or, if it had any, would it not de- stroy patriotism as well as ambition ? The same gal- lant author adds, with some reason, that the bright eyes of the ladies are the only objects which lose no- thing of their lustre or value from the most extensive views of astronomy, but stand proof against every sys- tem. Would philosophers advise us to limit our af- fection to them ? Exile, says Plutarch to a friend in banishment, is no evil : Mathematicians tell us that the "whole earth is but a point, compared to the heavens. To change one's country, then, is little more than to remove from one street to another. Man is not a plant, rooted to a certain spot of earth : All soils and all climates are a- like suited to him. ' These topics are admirable, could they fall only into the hands of banished persons. But •• Tusc. Quest, lil). v. '* Be Exiiio, THE SCEPl'IC. 199 what if tliey come also to the knowledge of those who are emploj'ed in public affairs, and destroy all their at- tachment to their native country ? Or will they ope- rate like the quack's medicine, which is equally good for a diabetes and a dropsy ? It is certain, were a superior being thrust into a hu- man body, that the whole of life would to him appear so mean, contemptible and puerile, that he never could be induced to take part in any thing, and would scarcely give attention to what passes around him. To engage him to such a condescension as to play even the part of a Philip with zeal and alacrity, would be much more difficult than to constrain the same Philip, after having been a king and a conqueror during fifty years, to mend old shoes with proper care and atten- tion, the occupation which Lucian assigns him in the infernal regions. Now, all the same topics of disdain towards human affairs, which could operate on this supposed being, occur also to a philosopher ; but be- ing, in some measure, disproportioned to human capa- city, and not being fortified by the experience of any thing bettei', they make not a full impression on him. He sees, but he feels not sufficiently their truth ; and is always a sublime philosopher when he needs not ; that is, as long as nothing disturbs him, or rouses his affections. While others play, he wonders at their keenness and ardour ; but he no sooner puts in his own stake, than he is commonly transported with the same passions that he had so much condemned while he remained a simple spectator. There are two considerations chiefly to be met with in books of philosophy, from which any important ef- fect is to be expected, and that because these conside- rations are drawn from couniion life, and occur upon the /" 200 ESSAY XVIII. most superficial view of human affairs. When we re- flect on the shortness and uncertainty of hfe, how des- picable seem all our pursuits of happiness ! And even it we would extend our concern beyond our own life, how frivolous appear our most enlarged and most gene- rous i)rojccts, when we consider the incessant changes and revolutions of human affairs, by which laws and learning, books and governments, are hurried away by time, as by a rapid stream, and are lost in the immense ocean of matter ! Such a reflection certainly tends to mortify all our passions: But does it not thereby coun- terwork the artifice of nature, who has happily de- ceived us into an opinion, that human life is of some imjiortance ? And may not such a reflection be em- ployed with success by voluptuous reasoners, in order to lead us from the paths of action and virtue, into the flowery fields of indolence and pleasure? We are informed by Thucydides, that, during the famous plague of Athens, when death seemed present to every one, a dissolute mirth and gaiety prevailed among the people, who exhorted one another to make the most of life as long as it endured. The same ob- servation is made by Boccace, with regard to the plague of Florence. A like principle makes soldiers, during war, be more addicted to riot and expense, than any other race of men. ^ ^ Present pleasure is always of importance; and whatever diminishes the imjiortance of all other objects, must bestow on it an additional influence and value. ' ' And it is obscrval)lc, in this kingdom, that long peace, by pro- ducing security, )ias[mucli altered them in tliis particular, and|has quite removed our officers from the generous character yf their profession. £ditio!«.s B and D. THE SCEPTIC. 201 The second philosophical consideration, which may often have an influence on the affections, is derived from a comparison of our own condition with the condition of others. This comparison we are continually making even in common life ; but the misfortune is, that we are rather apt to compare our situation with that of our superiors, than with that of our inferiors. A phi- losopher corrects this natural infirmity, by turning his view to the other side, in order to render himself easy in the situation to which fortune has confined him. There are few people who are not susceptible of some consolation from this reflection, though, to a very good natured man, the view of human miseries should rather produce sorrow than comfort, and add, to his lamen- tations for his own misfortunes, a deep compassion for those of others. Such is the imperfection, even of the best of these philosophical topics of consolation. ' ■' Tlic Sceptic, perhaps, carries the matter too far, when he limits all philosophical topics and reflections to these two. There seem to be others, whose truth is undeniable, and whose natural tendency is to tranquillize and soften all the passions. Philosophy greedily seizes these ; studies them, weighs them, commits them to the memory, and fa- miliarizes them to the mind : And their influence on tempers which are thoughtful, gentle, and moderate, may be considerable. But what is their influence, you will say, if the temper be antecedently disposed after the same manner as that to which they pretend to form it ? They may, at least, fortify that temper, and furnish it with views, l)y which it may entertain and nourish itself. Here are a few examples of such philoso- phical reflections. 1. Is it not certain, that every condition has concealed ills? Then why envy any body ? 2. Every one has known ills ; and there is a compensation through- out. Why not be contented with the present ? 3. Custom deadens the sense both of the good and the ill, and levels every thing. 4. Health anil humour all. The rest of little consequence, except these be atFected. 202 ESSAY XVIII. I sliall conclude tliis subject with observing, that, though virtue be undoubtedly the best choice, when it is attainable, vet such is the disorder and confusion of liuman affairs, that no perfect or regular distribution of happiness and misery is ever in this life to be expected. Not only the goods of fortune, and the endowments of the body (both of which are important), not only these advantages, I say, are unequally divided between the virtuous and vicious, but even the mind itself partakes, in some degree, of this disorder ; and the most worthy character, by the very constitution of the passions, en- joys not always the highest felicity. It is observable, that though every bodily pain pro- ceeds from some disorder in the part or organ, yet the 5. How many other good things have I ? Then why be vexed for one ill? 6. How many are happy in the condition of wliich I complain ? How many envy me ? 7. Every good must be paid for : Fortune by labour, favour by flat- tery. Would I keep the price, yet have the commodity ? 8. Expect not too great happiness in life. Human nature admits it not. 9. Propose not a happiness too complicated. But does that depend on me? Yes; The first choice does. Life is like a game: One may choose the game : And passion, by degrees, seizes the proper object. 10. Anticipate by your hopes and fancy future consolation, which time infallibly brings to every affliction. 11. I desire to be rich. Why? That I may possess many fine ob- jects ; houses, gardens, equipage, &c. How many fine objects does na- ture offer to every one without expense ? If enjoyed, sufficient. If not : See the effect of custom or of temper, which would soon take off the re- lisli of the riches. \2. I desire fame. Let this occur : If I act well, I shall have the esteem of all my acquaintance. And what is all the rest to me? Tliese reflections are so oljvious, that it is a wonder they occur not to every man. So convincing, that it is a wonder they persuade not every man. JJut, perhaps, they do occur to, and persuade most men, when THE SCEPTIC. 203 pain is not always proportioned to the disorder, but is greater or less, according to the greater or less sensi- bility of the part upon which the noxious humours exert their influence. A toothach produces more vio- lent convulsions of pain than a phthisis or a drojisi/. In like manner, with regard to the economy of the mind, we may observe, that all vice is indeed pernicious ; yet the disturbance or pain is not measured out by nature with exact proportion to the degrees of vice ; nor is the man of highest virtue, even abstracting from exter- nal accidents, always the most happy. A gloomy and melancholy disposition is certainly, to our sentiments^ a vice or imperfection ; but as it may be accompanied with great sense of honour and great integrity, it may be found in very worthy characters, though it is suffi- cient alone to imbitter life, and render the person af- fected with it completely miserable. On the other hand, a selfish villain nuiy possess a spring and alacri- ty of temper, a certain gaiety of hearty which is indeed a good quality, but which is rewarded much beyond when they consider human life by a general and calm survey : But where any real, aftecting incident happens ; when passion is awakened, fancy agitated, example draws, and counsel urges ; the philosopher is lost in the man, and he seeks in vain for that persuasion which before seemed so firm and unshaken. What remedy for this inconvenience ? Assist your- self by a frequent perusal of the entertaining moralists : Have recourse to the learning of Plutarch, the imagination of Lucian, the eloquence of Cicero, the wit of Seneca, the gaiety of IMontaigne, the sublimity of Shaftesbury. Moral precepts, so couched, strike deep, and fortify the mind against the illusions of passion. But trust not altogether to exter- nal aid : By habit and study acquire that philosophical temper which both gives force to reflection, and by rendering a great part of your hap- piness independent, takes off the edge from all disorderly passions, and tranquillizes the mind. Despise not these helps ; but confide not too much in them neither ; unless nature has been favourable in the temper with which she has endowed you. 204 ESSAY XVIII. its merit, and when attended with good fortune, will compensate for the uneasiness and remorse arising from all the other vices. I shall add, as an observation to the same purpose, that, if a man be liable to a vice or imperfection, it may often happen, that a good quality, which he pos- sesses along with it, will render him more miserable, than if he were completely vicious. A person of such imbecility of temper, as to be easily broken by afflic- tion, is more unhappy for being endowed with a gene- rous and friendly disposition, which gives him a lively concern for others, and exposes him the more to for- tune and accidents. A sense of shame, in an imper- fect character, is certainly a virtue; but produces great uneasiness and remorse, from which the abandoned villain is entirely free. A very amorous complexion, with a heart incapable of friendship, is happier than the same excess in love, with a generosity of temper, which transports a man beyond himself, and renders him a total slave to the object of his passion. In a word, human life is more governed by fortune than by reason ; is to be regarded more as a dull pas- time than a serious occupation ; and is more influenced by particular humour, than b}^ general principles. Shall we engage ourselves in it with passion and anxiety ? It is not worthy of so much concern. Shall we be in- different about what happens ? We lose all the plea- sure of the game by our phlegm and carelessness. While we are reasoning concerning life, life is gone ; and death, though j^erhaps they receive liim differently, yet treats alike the fool and the ])hilosopher. To re- duce life to exact rule and method is conmionly a pain- ful, oft a fruitless occupation : And is it not also a ))roo)", that we overvalue the prize for which we con- THE SCEPTIC. 205 tend ? Even to reason so carefully concerning it, and to fix with accuracy its just idea, would be overvaluing it, were it not that, to some tempers, this occupation is one of the most amusing in which life could possibly be employed. .V 206 ESSAY XIX. ESSAY XIX. OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. As marriage is an engagement entered into by mu- tual consent, and has for its end the propagation of the species, it is evident that it must be susceptible of all the variety of conditions which consent establishes, provided they be not contrary to this end. A man, in conjoining himself to a woman, is bound to her according to the terms of his engagement : In begetting children, he is bound, by all the ties of na- ture and humanity, to provide for their subsistence and education. When he has performed these two parts of duty, no one can reproach him with injustice or in- jury. And as the terms of his engagement, as well as the methods of subsisting his offspring, may be various, it is mere superstition to imagine, that marriage can be entirely uniform, and will admit only of one mode or form. Did not human laws restrain the natural liberty of men, every particular marriage would be as different as contracts or bargains of any other kind or species. As circumstances vary, and the laws propose differ- ent advantages, we find, that, in different times and places, they impose different conditions on this import- ant contract. In Ton(|uin, it is usual for the sail- OF rOLYOAMY AND DIVORCES. 207 ors, when the ship comes into harbour, to marry for the season ; and, notwithstanding this precarious en- iranrement, they are assured, it is said, of the strictest fidelity to their bed, as well as in the whole manage- ment of their affairs, from those temporary spouses. I cannot, at present, recollect my authorities ; but I have somewhere read, that the republic of Athens, having lost many of its citizens by war and pestilence, allowed every man to marry two wives, in order the sooner to repair the waste which had been made by these calamities. The poet Euripides happened to be coupled to two noisy vixens, who so plagued him with their jealousies and quarrels, that he became ever after a professed 'woman-hater ; and is the only theatrical writer, perhaps the only poet, that ever entertained an aversion to the sex. In that agreeable romance, called the Mhtory of the Sevarambians, where a great many men and a few wo- men are supposed to be shipwrecked on a desert coast, the captain of the troop, in order to obviate those end- less quarrels which arose, regulates their marriages after the following manner : He takes a handsome fe- male to himself alone ; assigns one to every couple of inferior officers, and to five of the lowest rank he gives one wife in common. The ancient Britons had a singular kind of mar- riage, to be met with among no other people. Any number of them, as ten or a dozen, joined in a society together, which was perhaps requisite for mutual de- fence in those barbarous times. In order to link this society the closer, they took an equal number of wives in common ; and whatever children were born, were reputed to belong to all of them, and were accordingly provided for by the whole community. 208 ESSAY XIX. Among the inferior creatures, nature herself beinfr tlie supreme legislator, prescribes all the laws which regulate their marriages, and varies those laws accord- ing to the different circumstances of the creature. Where she furnishes, with ease, food and defence to the new-born animal, the present embrace terminates the marriage ; and the care of the offspring is commit- ted entirely to the female. Where the food is of more difficult purchase, the marriage continues for one sea- son, till the common progeu}' can provide for itself; and then the union immediately dissolves, and leaves each of the parties free to enter into a new euirao-ement at the ensuing season. But nature, having endowed man MJth reason, has not so exactly regulated every article of his marriage-contract, but has left him to ad- just them, by his own prudence, according to his par- ticular circumstances and situation. Municipal laws are a supply to the wisdom of each individual ; and, at the same time, by restraining the natural liberty of men, make private interest submit to the interest of the pub- lic. All regulations, therefore, on this head, are equal- ly lawful and equally conformable to the principles of nature ; though they are not all equally convenient, or equally useful to society. The laws may allow of poly- gamy, as among the Eastern nations ; or of voluntary divorces, as among the Greeks and Romans ; or they may confine one man to one woman during the whole course of their lives, as among the modern Europeans. It may not be disagreeable to consider the advantages and disadvantages which result from each of these insti- tutions. The advocates for polygamy may recommend it as the only effectual remedy for the disorders of love, and the only expedient for freeing men from that slavery to the OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 209 females, which the natural violence of our passions has imposed upon us. By this means alone can we regain our right of sovereignty ; and, sating our appetite, re- establish the authority of reason in our minds, and, of consequence, our own authority in our families. Man, like a weak sovereign, being unable to support himself against the wiles and intrigues of his subjects, must play one faction against another, and become absolute by the mutual jealousy of the females. To divide and to govern, is an universal maxim ; and, by neglectmg it, the Europeans undergo a more grievous and a more igno- minious slavery than the Turks or Persians, who are subjected indeed to a sovereign that lies at a distance from them, but in their domestic affairs rule with an uncontrollable sway. ^* On the other hand, it may be urged with better rea- son, that this sovereignty of the male is a real usurpa- tion, and destroys that nearness of rank, not to say e- quality, which nature has established between the sexes. We are, by nature, their lovers, their friends, their pa- trons : Would we willingly exchange such endearing appellations for the barbarous title of master and tyrant ? In what capacity shall we gain by this inhuman pro- ceeding;? As lovers, or as husbands ? The lover is to- tally annihilated; and courtship, the most agreeable scene in life, can no longer have place where women have not the free disposal of themselves, but are bought and sold, like the meanest animal. The husband is as little a gainer, having found the admirable secret of ex- J 4 An honest Turk who should come from his seraglio, where every one trembles before liim, would be surprised to see Sylvia in her drawing- room, adored by all the beaus and pretty fellows about town ; and he would certainly take her for some mighty despotic queen, surrounded by her guard of obsequious slaves and eunuchs. — Editions B, D, N. VOL. III. O 210 ESSAY XIX. tinguisliinq every part of love, except its jealoiisy. No rose without its thorn ; but he must be a foolish wretch iiuleed, that throws away the rose and jircserves only the thorn. '' 15ut llie Asiatic manners are as destructive to friend- ship as to love. Jealousy excludes men from all inti- macies and iamiliarities with each other. No one dares brini^ his friend to his house or tt.ble, lest he bring a lover to his numerous wives. Hence, all over the East, each family is as much separate from another as if they ■were so many distinct kingdoms. No wonder then that Solomon, living like an Eastern prince, with his seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines, without one friend, could write so pathetically concerning the vanity of the world. Had he tried the secret of one wife or mistress, a few friends, and a great many com- panions, he might have found life somew^hat more agree- able. Destroy love and friendship, what remains in the Morld worth accc]:)ting? The bad education of children, especially children of condition, is another unavoidable consequence of these Eastern institutions. Those who pass the early part of lile among slaves, are only qualified to be, themselves, slaves and tyrants,* and in every future intercourse, ei- ther with their inferiors or superiors, are apt to forget 5 5 I would not willingly insist upon it as an advantage in our Euro- peitn customs, what was observed by Mahomet Effcndi, the last Turkish Ambassador in France. We Turks, says he, are great simjiletuns in com- patison oj" the Christians ; we arc at the expense and trouble of /cee]>ing n acrnglio, each in his owa house; hut you case yourselves of this burden^ and have your seraglio in ynur friends houses, Tlie known virtue of our Jiritiah bulies free thein suflicieiitly from tin's imputation ; and the Turk himself, howivcr great a Turk, must oi«-n, that our i\-v\.: conunerce with the fair nex, more than any other invention, embcUisheK, enlivens, and p<jIi>lK'S »oci«.«»y. — Ki>jTiof*s B, D, & N, OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 211 the natural equality of mankind. What attention, too, can it be supposed a parent, whose seraglio affords hiin fifty sons, will give to instilling principles of morality or science into a progeny, with whom he himself is scarcely acquainted, and whom he loves with so divided an affection ? Barbarism therefore appears, from rea- son as well as experience, to be the inseparable attend- ant of polygamy. To render polygamy more odious, I need not recount the frightful effects of jealousy, and the constraint in which it holds the fair sex all over the East. In those countries, men are not allowed to have any commerce with the females, not even physicians, w^hen sickness may be supposed to have extinguished all wanton pas- sions in the bosoms of the fair, and, at the same time, has rendered them unfit objects of desire. Tournefort tells us, that when he was brought into the Grand Seig- nior's seraglio as a physician, he was not a little sur- prised, in looking along a gallery, to see a great num- ber of naked arms standing out from the sides of the room. He could not imagine what this could mean, till he was told that those arms belonged to bodies which he must cure, without knowing any more about them than what he could learn from the arms. He was not allowed to ask a question of the patient, or even of her attendants, lest he might find it necessary to inquire concerning circumstances which the delicacy of the se- raglio allows not to be revealed. Hence physicians in the East pretend to know all diseases from the pulse, as our quacks in Europe undertake to cure a person merely from seeing his water. I suppose, had Mon- sieur Tournefort been of this latter kind, he would not, in Constantinople, have been allowed by the jealous o 2 212 ESSAY XIX. Turks to be furnished with materials requisite for ex- ercisin<]r his art. In another country, where polygamy is also allowed, they render their wives cripples, and make their feet of no use to them, in order to confine them to their own houses. But it will perhaps appear strange, that, in a European country, jealousy can yet be carried to such a hei'rht, that it is indecent so much as to suppose that a woman of rank can have feet or legs. Witness the following story, which we have from very good autho- rity. ' When the mother of the late king of Spain was on he/ i- ad towards Madrid, she passed through a lit- tle town in Spain famous for its manuflictory of gloves and stockings. The magistrates of the place thought they could not better express their joy for the reception of their new queen, than by presenting her with a sam- ple of those commodities for which alone their town was remarkable. The major do)no, who conducted the princess, received the gloves very graciously ; but, when the stockings were presented, he flung them away with great indignation, and severely reprimanded the ma- gistrates for this egregious piece of indecency. K?ioxso, says he, that a queen of Spain has no legs. I'he young queen, who at that time understood the language but imperfectly, and had often been frightened with stories of Spanish jealousy, imagined that they were to cut off her legs. Upon which she fell a crying, and begged them to conduct her back to Germany, for that she ne- ver could endure the operation ; and it was with some (lilficulty they could appease her. Philip IV. is said ' Memoirct de lu Cour d'Espanne, par Madame d'Aunoij. OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 213 never in his life to have laughed heartily but at the re- cital of tliis story. ^'^ Having rejected polygamy, and matched one man with one woman, let us now consider what duration we shall assign to their union, and whether we shall admit of those voluntary divorces which were customary a- monfj the Greeks and Romans. Those who would de- fend this practice, may employ the following reasons. How often does disjjust and aversion arise after mar- riage, from the most trivial accidents, or from an in- compatibility of humour ; where time, instead of curing the wounds proceeding from mutual injuries, festers them every day the more, by new quarrels and re- proaches ? Let us separate hearts which were not made to associate together. Either of them may, perhaps, find another for which it is better fitted. At least, no- thing can be more cruel than to preserve, by violence, an union which, at first, was made by mutual love, and is now, in effect, dissolved by mutual hatred. But the liberty of divorces is not only a cure to hatred and domestic quarrels ; it is also an admirable preser- vative against them, and the only secret for keeping a- J S If a Spanish lady must not be supposed to have legs, what must be supposed of a Turkish lady ? She must not be supposed to have a being at all. Accordingly, it is esteemed a piece of rudeness and indecency at Constantinople, ever to make mention of a man's wives bei i e him. * In Europe, it is true, fine bred people make it also a rul. jr to talk of their wives : but the reason is not founded on our jealousy. I suppose it is, because we should be apt, were it not for this rule, to become troublesome to company, by talking too much of them. The President Montesquieu has given a different reason for this polite maxim. Men, says he, never care to mention their wives in company, lest they should talk of them before people that knoiv them better than they do themselves. — Editions B, D & N. * Memoires dc Marquis d'Argens. 914 ESSAY XIX. live that love wliicli lirsL united the married couple. The heart of man delights in liberty : The very image of constraint is grievous to it. When you would con- fine it by violence, to what woidd otherwise have been its choice, the inclination immediately changes, and desire is turned into aversion. If the public interest will not allow us to enjoy in polygamy that variety which is so agreeable in love : at least, deprive us not of that liberty which is so essentially requisite. In vain you tell me, that I had my choice of the person with whom I would conjoin myself. I had my choice, it is true, of my prison ; but this is but a small com- fort, since it must still be a prison. Such are the arguments which may be urged in fa- j/ vour of divorces : But there seem to be these three unanswerable objections against them. Firsts What nmst become of the children upon the separation of the parents ? Must they be committed to the care of a stepmother, and, instead of the fond attention and concern of a parent, feel all the indifference or hatred of a stranger, or an enemy? These inconveniences are sufficiently felt, where nature has made the divorce by the doom inevitable to all mortals : And shall we seek to multiply those inconveniences by multiplying divorces, and putting it in the power of parents, upon every caprice, to render their posterity miserable ? Secondhj, If it be true, on the one hand, that the heart of man naturally delights in liberty, and hates every thinir to which it is confined ; it is also true, on the other, that the heart of man naturally submits to necessity, and soon loses an inclination, when there appears an absolute impossibility of gratifying it. These principKs of human nature, you will say, are contra- dictorv: But what is man but a heap of contradictions ! OF POLYGAMY AND UIVOIICES. 215 Though it is remarkable, that where principles arc, after this manner, contrary in their operation, they do not always destroy each other ; but the one or the other may predominate on any particular occasion, ac- cordin<j as circumstances are more or less favourable to it. For instance, love is a restless and impatient passion, full of caprices and variations : arising in a moment from a feature, from an air, from nothing, and suddenly extinguishing after the same manner. Such a passion requires liberty above all things ; and there- fore Eloisa had reason, when, in order to preserve this passion, she refused to marry her beloved Abelard. How oft, when pressed to marriage, have I said, Curse on all laws but those which love has made : Love, free as air, at sight of human ties. Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. ^nifricndshij) is a calm and sedate affection, conduct- ed by reason and cemented by habit; springing from long acquaintance and mutual obligations ; without jea- lousies or fears, and without those feverish fits of heat and cold, which cause such an aoreeable torment in the amorous passion. So sober an affection, therefore, as friendship, rather thrives under constraint, and never rises to such a height, as when any strong interest or necessity binds two persons together, and gives them some common object of pursuit. ^ ' ^^^e need not, there- } ■? Let us consider, then, wlietlier love or friendship should most predo- minate in marriage, and we shall soon determine whether liberty or con- straint be most favourable to it. The happiest marriages, to be sure, are found where love, by long acquaintance, is consolidated into friendship. Whoever dreams of extasius beyond the honey moon, is a fool Even romances themselves, witli all their liberty of fiction, are obliged to drop their lovers the very day of their marriage, and find it easier to support the passion for a dozen of years under coldness, disdain and difficulties, than a week under possession and security. — Editions E, D, N. 216 ESSAY XIX. fore, be afraid of drawing the marriage-knot, wliich 'r] cliiefly subsists by friendship, the closest possible. The amity between the persons, whei'e it is solid and sin- cere, will rather gain by it : And where it is wavering and uncertain, that is the best expedient for fixing it. How many frivolous quarrels and disgusts are there, which people of common prudence endeavour to for- get, when they lie under a necessity of passing their lives together ; but which would soon be inflamed into the most deadly hatred, were they pursued to the ut- most, under the prospect of an easy separation ? In the l/ii?d place. We must consider, that nothing is more dangerous than to unite two persons so. closely in all their interests and concerns, as man and wife, without rendering the union entire and total. The least possibility of a separate interest must be the source of endless quarrels and suspicions. The wife, not secure of her establishment, will still be driving some separate end or project ; and the husband's sel- fishness, being accompanied with more power, may be still more dangerous. Should these reasons against voluntary divorces be ^ deemed insufficient, I hope nobody will pretend to re- fuse the testimony of experience. At the time when divorces were most frequent among the Romans, mar- riages were most rare ; and Augustus was obliged, by penal laws, to force men of fashion into the married state ; a circumstance which is scarcely to be found in any other age or nation. The more ancient laws of Rome, whicli prohibited divorces, are extremely praised by Dionysius Halicarnassus. ' Wonderful was the harmony, says the historian, which this inseparable • Lib. ii. OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 21T union of interests produced between married persons ; while each of them considered the inevitable necessity by which they were linked toj^ether, and abandoned all prospect of any other choice or establishment. The exclusion of polygamy and divorces sufficiently recommends our present European practice with re- gard to marriage. 218 ESSAY XX. r ESSAY XX. OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT IN WRITING. Fine writing, according to Mr Addison, consists of sentiments which are natural, without being obvious. There cannot be a juster and moz'e concise definition of fine writing. Sentiments, wliich are merely natural, affect not the mind with any pleasure, and seem not worthy of our attention. The pleasantries of a waterman, the obser- vations of a peasant, the ribaldry of a porter or hack- ney coachman, all of these are natural and disagree- able. Wiiat an insipid comedy should we make of the chit-chat of the tea-table, copied faithfully and at full length ? Nothing can please persons of taste, but na- ture drawn with all her graces and ornaments, la belle nature ; or if we copy low life, the strokes must be strong and remarkable, and must convey a lively image to the mind. The absurd " naivete of Sancho Panza is represented in such inimitable colours by Cervantes, that it entertains as much as the picture of the most magnanimous hero or the softest lover. The case is the same with orators, philosophers, cri- " Naivete, a word whicli I liavc Ixjrrowed from the French, and wliich is mucli wanted in our language. — Note in Editions B, D. OF SIMPLICITY AND HEFINEMENT. 2\d tics, or any author who sjieaks in liis own person, with- without introducing other speakers or actors. It" his \ hmguage be not elegant, his observations uncommon, his sense strong and masculine, he will in vain boast his nature and simplicity. He may be correct ; but he never will be agreeable. It is the unhappiness of such authors, that they are never blamed or censured. The good fortune of a book, and that of a man, are not the same. The secret deceiving path of life, which Horace talks oi\ Jul lent is scmila vitce, may be the haj)- piest lot of the one ; but it is the greatest misfortune which the other can possibly fall into. On the other hand, productions which are merely surprising, without being natural, can never give any lasting entertainment to the mind. To draw chimeras, is not, properly speaking, to copy or imitate. The justness of the representation is lost, and the mind is displeased to find a picture which bears no resemblance to any original. Nor are such excessive refinements more agreeable in the epistolary or philosophic style, than in the epic or tragic. Too much ornament is a fault in every kind of production. Unconnnon expres- sions, strong flashes of wit, pointed similes, and epi' grammatic turns, especially when they recur too fre- quently, are a disfigurement, rather than any embellish- ment of discourse. As the eye, in surveying a Gothic building, is distracted by the multi})licity of ornaments, and loses the whole by its minute attention to the parts; so the mind, in perusing a work overstocked with wit, is fatigued and disgusted with the constant endeavour to shine and surprise. This is the case where a writer overabounds in wit, even though that wit, in itself, should be just and agreeable. But it connnoniy haj)- pens to such \uilerb., that they seek for their favourite f 220 ESSAY XX. ornaments, even where the subject does not afford them ; and by tliat means have twenty insipid conceits for one thouglit which is really beautiful. Tliere is no object in critical learning more copious than this, of the just mixture of simplicity and refine- ment in writing ; and therefore, not to wander in too large a field, I shall confine myself to a few general ob- servations on that head. First, I observe. That though excesses of both kinds are to be avoided, and though a jn-opcr 7)iedium ought to be studied in all itroduciions, yet this medium lies not in a lyoint, but admits of a considerable latitude. Consider the wide distance, in this respect, between Mr Pope and Lucretius. These seem to lie in the two greatest extremes of refinement and simplicity in which a poet can indulge himself, without being guilty of any blame- able excess. All this interval may be filled with poets who may differ from each other, but may be equally admirable, each in his pecular style and manner. Cor- neille and Confrreve, who carrv their wit and refine- ment somewhat farther than Mr Pope, (if poets of so different a kind can be compared together), and So- phocles and Terence, who are more simple than Lu- cretius, seem to have gone out of that metlium in which the most perfect productions are found, and to be guil- ty of some excess in these opposite characters. Of all the great poets, Virgil and liacine, in my opinion, lie nearest the centre, and are the farthest removed from both the extremities. My second observation on this head is. That it is very dijficult, if not impossible, to explain by isoords *whbre the just medium lies between the excesses of simplicity and r<fi7iemcnt , or to give any ride by "johich we caii know precisely the bounds between the fault and the beauty. A ( OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT. 221 critic may discourse not only very judiciously on this head without instructing his readers, but even without understanding the matter perfectly himself. There is \ not a finer piece of criticism than the Dissertaiion o?i ! Pastorals by Fontenelle, in which, by a number of re- i flexions and philosophical reasonings, he endeavours to fix the just medium which is suitable to that species of writing. But let any one read the pastorals of that au- thor, and he will be convinced that this judicious critic, notwithstanding his fine reasonings, had a false taste, and fixed the point of perfection much nearer the ex- treme of refinement than pastoral poetry will admit of. The sentiments of his shepherds are better suited to the toilettes of Paris than to the forests of Arcadia. But this it is impossible to discover from his critical reason- ings. He blames all excessive painting and ornament as much as Virgil could have done, had that great poet wrote a dissertation on this species of poetiy. How- ever different the tastes of men, their general discourse on these subjects is commonly the same. No criticism can be instructive which descends not to particulars, and is not full of examples and illustrations. It is al- lowed on all hands, that beauty, as well as virtue, al- ways lies in a medium ; but where this medium is placed is a great question, and can never be sufficiently ex- plained by general reasonings. I shall deliver it as a t/ii)-d observation on