f^^w & h8#?;/ / v* %v * N ^'■7-^t- PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS ON MORALS, LITERATURE, AND POUTICS; BY DAVID HUME. TO WHICH IS ADDED, THE ANSWER TO HIS OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY, BY DR. CAMPBELL, ALSO, An account of Mr. Hume's Life, an Original Essay, and a few notes; BY THOMAS EWELL, M. D. OF VIRGINIA, W TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. FIRST AMERICAN EDITION. PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED FOR THE EDITOR BY EDWARD EARLE. 1817. y'tu.'s s\., lliJ>JV • DEDICATION TO JAMES MONROE, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. Sir, The exhibition of a pure and virtuous man— rising by suffrage to the first office in a nation of friends to liberty—is one of the most sublime spectacles com- manding the attention of the world. Such a scene has been exhibited by you! The attention of the American people has been fixed on you ! they have known you long, and have known you well!—and, could their voice have been fairly heard, years ago you would have ascended, as you have now done, to the first office in the country. It is not so much from your high station—as from your worth—that I seize this occasion to show you my respect by the dedication of the first American edition of Mr. Hume's Essays. I could not offer greater homage. Mr. Hume was a man of transcen- iv DEDICATION. dant mind, and these writings transcend his other per- formances. Nevertheless no edition has been printed in this country—so that but few of our politicians and moralists, of our philosophers and men of literature, have had the essential advantages of his wonderful researches. If a parallel could be drawn with propriety between actions and writings, it appeared to me that it might be drawn between your labours and Mr. Hume's Es- says.—His productions exhibit a grandeur of genius— a depth of investigation—an independence of spirit- never surpassed by a British subject;—your exertions exhibit a soul never surpassed by an American citizen. The history of your past life, is the history of a gene- rous enthusiasm for the rights of man ; of a sacred de- votion to honesty and integrity, as is proverbial in your native state. During the revolution you were one of the champions in the holy struggle !—devoted to your country's good—regardless of consequences to yourself. When the great Washington selected you to represent the nation in France, he knew that you would be true to the views and interests of your coun- trymen. Your recall, effected by intrigue, but added to your glory—for, with the weight of a misunderstand- ing with the President, your virtues prevailed; and the good people of Virginia called you to the chief office of the state. With equal confidence you were selected to repre- sent your country at the British Court—with equal Ufcui NATION. V worth you discharged the duties. Whether the American people should deplore or be satisfied that your engagements were not respected, will be settled in a future age. But the value of your support was too great for you to remain separated from the admin- istration. It is not so remarkable that you filled the first office under the executive with the highest honor— as that from that office you descended to one of lower grade, on perceiving that you could more effectually serve your country. From the vaunted patriotism of the ancients—tales told of imaginary heroes in suc- ceeding ages—nothing can be extracted, more fully shewing the patriot than your conduct on this occasion! Indeed I feel on its survey a high excitement! I rejoice that you are of the land of my father !—that you rose from the " ancient dominion !" Venerable friend to your country ! when the days of your office have passed by, may your happiness be perfected by the best recollections !—may you and the people have it to say, that you were—as their Wash- ington—the President of the nation, not of a party; the friend of the pure, never countenancing the disho- norable !—so that when your spirit shall have gone to your ancestors, its glories may be crowned by the sur- vey of the example you leave for succeeding sages. THOS. EWELL. PREFACE. It has been with much hesitation that I have undertaken to have an edition of Mr. Hume's Essays printed. My en- gagements rendered it very inconvenient; and nothing but a strong desire of doing service to the gentlemen of minds in this country decided the undertaking. An instrumental- ity in disseminating such sublime philosophy, and astonish- ing research, as is exhibited by this wonderful genius and writer, could not be otherwise than exceedingly agreeable. Unaccountable as it is, these Essays have not heretofore been printed in America—although pronounced by the au- thor in health, and when about to die, «incomparably his best performance."—while his history—which is marked by more objectional features, has been demanded in several editions. This suppression is a melancholy instance of withholding many advantages on account of a few probable errors; of the success of ignorance and prejudice, of incapa- city and malignancy, in opposing ambition for intellectual advancement. The bigots have raised an unfounded cla- mour against the work—while its philosophy—seldom un- derstood, and often misrepresented,—has been degraded by classing it with the disorganizing productions of the French nation. Assuredly these Essays may, with truth, be pro- nounced the greatest—the best calculated to awaken enqui- ry, while communicating instruction—that were ever writ- ten. The liberal, who have read them in the spirit of can- vm PREFACE. dour and truth, will not require to be reminded of their worth. Our host of horn-book politicians—our men of homespun literature—friends to the study of metaphysics and of morals—will all find themselves improved—raised— transported by the lights diffused. The present time appears to be peculiarly adapted to the study of such works of philosophy. Suspicions of their agency in producing that infuriation of mind, regardless of morals, and devoted to revolutions, that marked the age which has just passed by, are now subsiding. The intelli- gent perceive it was the great foul mass of the community, not the thinking philosophers; the bad passions of the men, not erroneous principles conceived in the closet—which have produced the calamities of thoughtless insurrection, and all the horrors of its train, which have desolated so fair a por- tion of Europe. The present subsidence of the violent con- vulsions which agitated the world affords, at all events, the most proper time for receiving, considering, and settling, the value of the innovations of philosophers. But a few pages of Mr. Hume's Essays are devoted to religious subjects—yet the confederation of decryers would stamp the whole as inimical to religion. To guard against infidelity—that might arise from the freedom of his discus- sion—the pious Dr. Campbell's answer is annexed. The character of this stands deservedly high ; and ought to be read, not only for its object,—but on account of the ingenui- ty—the close and strong reasoning it exhibits. It is by trac-. ing, and going along with, the ideas of such powerful minds that our own become enlarged. No character, however religious, can rationally object to reading these volumes under the present circumstances of PREFACE. IX of publication. On the score of Christianity, his faith can- not be affected. Indeed it would be well for the clergy if they would diligently study, instead of endeavouring to pro- scribe, them. They cannot do the one, and will be greatly benefited by the other. Doctor Campbell states it was first from the study of Mr. Hume's ingenious writings, that he learnt to think and write on the subject. Our clergy will not be accused of having more learning than the Scotch divines ; and they may safely imitate them by venturing on the study. The habit of acute reflection will more effectu- ally enable them to make converts to the religion of our Saviour, than all the rhapsodical promises and denuncia- tions that ever came from the pulpit. As a friend to the preachers of Christianity, I wish them more learning, and better temper to discuss and glean the good from every writer—however objectionable they may be in some points. Men are so frequently benefited from hearing the worst said of them by their enemies, that I cannot think sound religion can be injured by its friends reading the strictures passed on it:—indeed it must be strengthened, since it can stand the most scrutinizing attacks. After all the clamour about Mr. Hume's anti-religious doctrines, it appears that what he calls his discovery for the solution of miracles, is the point most objectionable and dreaded. It appears astonishing to me that such impor- tance has been attached to this subject. Most people are conscious of most extraordinary emotions in them at times, which they attribute to something of the miraculous. Many ' clergymen of certain sects teach, that a man converted to Christianity has an extra visit from the Holy Spirit. Can it be of the least importance, if our faith be brought on by a miracle within us, or by a visitation in spirit from above? For my part—so that a man has the true faith, and acts the B X TREFACE* good part of a christian,—I care not to what possible cause he may attribute his creed. No one ought to be more dis- pleased at his amusing himself by ascribing it to the ghosts of his fancy, than at Mr. Hume's ascribing it to a miracle. It is somewhere said by one of the apostles, «• a good work is wrought within me." Many of those who have not capacity to understand the doctrines of Mr. Hume—on the one side,*and on the other,— have not patience to enter into his singularly ingenious modes of reasoning, have confederated to propagate un- founded slander against him—hoping so to traduce his pri- vate life as to lessen the respect paid to his doctrines.—« Among the various attempts of this kind which have been made, I have heard of reports of him in this country, very contrary to the plain—interesting account he gives of himself in his life annexed. The annexed extracts, taken from Mr. Handy's life of the Earl of Charlemont, give suf- ficient evidence of his truly amiable spirit. "The celebrated David Hume—whose character is so deservedly high in the literary world; and whose works, both as a philosopher and as an historian, are so wonder- fully replete with genius and entertainment—was, when I was at Turin, secretary to sir John Sinclair, minister from the court of Great Britain to his Sardinian majesty.— With this extraordinary man I was intimately acquaint- ed. He had kindly distinguished me from among a num- ber of young men, who wrere then at the academy, and appeared so warmly attached to me, that it was apparent he not only intended to honour me with his friendship, but to bestow on me what was, in his opinion, the first of all favours and benefits, by making me his convert and disci- ple." PREFACE. xi *' Nature, I believe never formed any man more unlike his real character than David Hume. The powers of phy- siognomy were baffled by his countenance; neither ran instantly to his desk, took out the grant, and presented it to his miserable friend, who received it with exultation, and whose name was soon after, by Hume's interest, insert- ed instead of his own. After such a relation it is needless that I should say any more of his genuine philanthropy and generous beneficence. " About this time 1766 or somewhat before this, lord Charlemont once more met his friend David Hume. His lordship mentions him in some detached papers which I shall here collect, and give to the reader. « Nothing," says lord Charlemont, " ever showed a mind more truly benefi- cent than Hume's whole conduct with regard to Rousseau. That story is too well known to be repeated, and exhibits a striking picture of Hume's heart, whilst it displays the strange and unaccountable vanity and madness of the French, or rather Swiss, moralist. When first they arriv- PREFACE. xm cd together from France, happening to meet Hume in the park, I wished him joy of his pleasing connexion, and par- ticularly hinted that I was convinced he must be perfectly happy in his new friend, as their sentiments were, I believ- ed, nearly similar. « Why, no man," said he, "in that you are mistaken ; Rousseau is not what you think him ; he has a hankering after the bible, indeed is little better than a chris- tian, in a way of his own." Excess of vanity was the mad- ness of Rousseau. When he first arrived in London, he and his Armenian dress were followed by crowds, and as long as this species of admiration lasted, he was contented and hap- py. But in London such sights are only the wonder of the day, and in a very short time he was suffered to walk where he pleased, unattended, unobserved. From that instant his discontent may be dated. But to dwell no longer on mat- ters of public notoriety, I shall only mention one fact, which I can vouch for truth, and which would, of itself, be avnply sufficient to convey an adequate idea of the amazing eccen- tricity of this singular man. When, after having quarrel- led with Hume, and all his English friends, Rousseau was bent on making his escape, as he termed it, into France, he stopped at a village between London and Dover, and from thence wrote to general Conway, then secretary of st;-.te, informing him that although he had got so far with safety, he was well apprised that the remainder of his route was so beset by his inexorable enemies, that, unprotected, he could not escape. He therefore solemnly claimed the protection of the king, and desired that a party of cavalry might be immediately ordered to escort him to Dover. This letter general Conway showed to me, together with his answer, in which he assured him that the postillions were, altoge- ther, a very sufficient guard throughout every part of the king's dominions. To return to Hume. In London wlvre he often did me the honour to communicate the manuscriv XIV PREFACE. of his additional essays, before their publication, I havu sometimes, in the course of our intimacy, asked him whe- ther he thought that, if his opinions werauniversally to take place, mankind would not be rendered more unhappy than they now were; and whether he did not suppose that the curb of religion was necessary to human nature? "The objections,*' answered he, "are not without weight; but error never can produce good, and truth ought to take place of all considerations." He never failed in the midst of any controversy, to givo its due praise to every thing tolerable that was cither said, or written against him. One day that he visited me in London, he came into my room laughing, and apparently well pleased. " What has put you into this good humor Hume ?" said I. •< Why man," replied he, " I have just now had the best thing said to roe I ever heard. I was complaining in a company, where I spent the morn- ing, that I was very ill treated by the world, and that the censures past upon me were hard and unreasonable. That I had written many volumes, throughout the whole of which, there were but few pages that contained any reprehensible matter, and yet, for those few pages, I was abused and torn to pieces." " You put me in mind," said an honest fellow in the company whose name I did not know, " of an ac- quaintance of mine, a notary public, who, having been con- demned to be hanged for forgery, lamented the hardship of his case; that, after having written many thousand inoffen- sive Sheets, he should be hanged for one line." " But an unfortunate disposition to doubt of every thing seemed interwoven with the nature of Hume, and never was there, I am convinced, a more thorough and sincere sceptic. He seemed not to be certain even of his own present exist- ence, and could not therefore be expected to entertain any settled opinion respecting his future state. Once I asked PREFACE. XV him what he thought of the immortality of the soul; « Why troth man," said he, " it is so pretty and so comfortable a " theory, that I wish I could be convinced of its truth, but I " cannot help doubting." " Hume's fashion at Paris when he was there as secretary to lord Hertford, was truly ridiculous; and nothing ever marked in a more striking manner, the whimsical genius of the French. No man, from his manners, was surely less formed for their society, or less likely to meet with their approbation; but that flimsy philosophy which pervades, and deadens even their most licentious novels, was then the folly of the day. Freethinking and English frocks were the fashion, and the Anglomanie was the ton du pais. Lord Holland, though far better calculated than Hume to please in France, was also, an instance of this singular predilec- tion. Being about this time on a visit to Paris, the French concluded that an Englishman of his reputation must be a philosopher, and must be admired. It was customary with him to doze after dinner, and one day at a great entertain- ment he happened to fall asleep : « Le voila!' says a mar- quis, pulling his neighbour by the sleeve, ' Le voila! qui pense !' But the madness for Hume was far more singular and extravagant. From what has been already said of him, it is apparent that his conversation to strangers, and parti- cularly to Frenchmen, could be little delightful, and still more particularly, one would suppose, to French women. And yet no lady's toilet was complete without Hume's at- tendance. At the opera his broad unmeaning face was usually seen entre deux tolls minois. The ladies in France give the ton, and the ton was deism; a species of philoso- phy, ill suited to the softer sex, in whose delicate frame weakness is interesting, and timidity a charm. But the women in France were deists, as with us they were cbario- XVI PREFACE. teers. The tenets of the new philosophy were a portec de tout le monde, and the perusal of a wanton novel, such, for instance, as Therese Philosophe, was amply sufficient to render any fine gentleman, or any fine lady, an accomplish- ed, nay, a learned deist. How my friend Hume was able to endure the encounter of these French female Titans I know not. In England, either his philosophic pride, or his conviction that infidelity was ill suited to women, made him perfectly averse from the initiation of ladies into the myste- ries of his doctrine. I never saw him so much displeased, or so much disconcerted, as by the "petulance of Mrs. Mal- let, the conceited wife of Bolingbroke's editor. This lady, who was not acquainted with Hume, meeting him one night at an assembly, boldly accosted him in these words: " Mr. "Hume, give me leave to introduce myself to you; we deists "ought to know each other." " Madam," replied he, " I am "no deist. I do not style myself so, neither do 1 desire to *' be known by that appellation." "Nothing ever gave Hume more real vexation, than the strictures made upon his history in the house of lords, by the great lord Chatham. Soon after that speech I met Hume, and ironically wished him joy of the high honour that had been done him. ( Zounds, man," said he, with more peevishness than I had ever seen him express, ( he's a Goth ! he's a Vandal!' Indeed, his history is as dangerous in politics, as his essays are in religion ; and it is somewhat extraordinary, that the same man who labours to free the mind from what he supposes religious prejudices, should as zealously endeavour to shackle it with the servile ideas of despotism. But he loved the Stuart family, and his history is, of course, their apology. All his prepossessions, how- ever, could never induce him absolutely to falsity history : and though he endeavours to soften th<* failings of his PREFACE. XV11 favourites, even in their actions, yet it is on the characters which he gives to them, that he principally depends for their vindication ; and from hence frequently proceeds, in the course of his history, this singular incongruity, that it is morally impossible that a man, possessed of the character which the historian delineates, should, in certain circum- stances, have acted the part which the same historian nar- rates and assigns to him. But now to return to his philo- sophical principles, which certainly constitute the discrimi- native feature of his character. The practice of combating received opinions, had one unhappy, though not unusual, effect on his mind. He grew fond of paradoxes, which his abilities enabled him successfully to support; and his under- standing was so far warped and bent by this unfortunate predilection, that he had well nigh lost that best faculty of the mind, the almost intuitive perception of truth. His sceptical turn made him doubt, and consequently dispute, every thing; yet was he a fair and pleasant disputant. He heard with patience, and answered without acrimony. Nei- ther was his conversation at any time offensive, even to his more scrupulous companions; his good sense, and good na- ture, prevented his saying any thing that was likely to shock, and it was not till he was provoked to argument, that, in mixed companies, he entered into his favourite topics. Where indeed, as was the case with me, his regard for any individual rendered him desirous of making a pro- selyte, his efforts were great, and anxiously incessant." i MY OWN LIFE. WRITTEN BY DAVID HUME; ESQ. IT is difficult for a man to speak long of himself without vanity; therefore I shall be short. It may be thought an instance of vanity that I pretend at all to write my life; but this Narrative shall contain little more than the History of my Writings; as, indeed, almost all my life has been spent in lite- rary pursuits and occupations. The first success of most of my writings was not such as to be an object of vanity. I was born the 26th of April 1711, old style, at Edinburgh. I was of a good family, both by father and mother: my father's family is a branch of the earl of Home's, or Hume's; and my ancestor's had been proprietors of the estate which my brother possesses for several generations. My mother was daughter of Sir David Falconer, President of the College of Justice: the title of lord Halkerton came by succession to her brother. My family, however, was not rich, and being myself a younger brother, my patrimony, according to the mode of my country, was of course very slender. My father, who passed for a man of parts, died when I was an infant, leaving me with an elder brother and a sister, under the care of our mother, a woman of singular merit, who though young and handsome, devoted her- self entirely to the rearing and educating of her children. I passed through the ordinary course of education with success, 20 MY OWN LIFE. and was seized very early with a passion for literature, which has been the ruling passion of my life, and the great source of my enjoyments. My studious disposition, my sobriety, and my industry, gave my family a notion that the law was a proper profession for me: but I found an unsurmountable aversion to every thing but the pursuits of philosophy and general learning; and while they fancied I was poring upon Voet and Vinnius, Cicero and Virgil were the authors which I was secretly de- vouring. My very slender fortune, however, being unsuitable to this plan of life, and my health being a little broken by my ardent application, I was tempted, or rather forced, to make a very fee- ble trial for entering into a more active scene of life. In 1734 I went to Bristol, with some recommendations to eminent mer- chants ; but in a few months found that scene totally unsuitable to me. I went over to France with a view of prosecuting my studies in a country retreat; and I there laid that plan of life which I have steadily and successfully pursued. I resolved to make a very rigid frugality supply my deficiency of fortune, to maintain unimpaired my independency, and to regard every ob- ject as contemptible, except the improvement of my talents in literature. During my retreat in France, first at Rheims, but chiefly at La Fleche, in Anjou, I composed my Treatise of Human Nature. After passing three years very agreeably in that country, I came over to London in 1737. In the end of 1738,1 published my Treatise, and immediately went down to my mother and my bro- ther, who lived at his country-house, and was employed himself very judiciously and successfully in the improvement of his for- tune. Never literary attempt was more unfortunate than my Trea- tise of Human Nature. It fell dead-born from the press, with- out reaching such distinction as even to excite a murmur among MY OWN LIFE. 21 the zealots. But being naturally of a cheerful and sanguine temper, I very soon recovered the blow, and prosecuted with great ardour my studies in the country. In 1742 I printed at Edinburgh the first part of my Essays: the work was favourably received, and soon made me entirely forget my former dis- appointment. I continued with my mother and brother in the country, and in that time recovered the knowledge of the Greek language, which I had too much neglected in my early youth. In 17451 received a letter from the marquis of Annandale, in- viting me to come and live with him in England; I found also, that the friends and family of that young nobleman were desirous of putting him under my care and direction, for the state of his mind and health required it.—I lived with him a twelvemonth. My appointments during that time made a considerable acces- sion to my small fortune. I then received an invitation from general St. Clair to attend him as a secretary to his expedition, which was at first meant against Canada, but ended in an incur- sion on the coast of France. Next year, to wit, 1747,1 receiv- ed an invitation from the general to attend him in the same sta- tion in his military embassy to the courts of Vienna and Turin. I then wore the uniform of an officer, and was introduced at these courts as aid-de-camp to the general, along with sir Harry Erskine and captain Grant, now general Grajit. These two years were almost the only interruptions which my studies have received during the course of my life; I passed them agreeably, and in good company ; and my appointments, with my frugality, had made me reach a fortune, which I called independent, though most of my friends were inclined to smile when I said so: in short, I was now master of near a thousand pounds. I had always entertained a notion, that my want of success in publishing the Treatise of Human Nature, had proceeded more from the manner than the matter, and that I had been guilty of a very usual indiscretion, in going to the press too early. I m2 my own life. therefore cast the first part of that work anew in the Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, which was published while I was at Turin. But this piece was at first little more success- ful than the Treatise of Human Nature. On my return from Italy, I had the mortification to find all England in a ferment, on account of Dr. Middleton's Free Enquiry, while my perform- ance was entirely overlooked and neglected. A new edition, which had been published at London, of my Essays, moral and political, met not with a much better reception. Such is the force of natural temper, that these disappoint- ments made little or no impression on me. I went down in 1749, and lived two years with my brother at his country-house, for my mother was now dead. I there composed the second part of my Essay, which I called Political Discourses, and also my Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, which is ano- ther part of my Treatise that I cast anew. Meanwhile my bookseller, A. Millar, informed me that my former publications (all but the unfortunate Treatise) were beginning to be the sub- ject of conversation; that the sale of them was gradually increas- ing, and that new editions were demanded. Answers by Reve- rends and Right Reverends came out two or three in a year; and I found, by Dr. Warburton's railing, that the books were begin- ning to be esteemed in good company. However, I had a fixed resolution, which I inflexibly maintained, never to reply to any body; and not being very irascible in my temper, I have easily kept myself clear of all literary squabbles. These symptoms of a rising reputation gave me encouragement, as I was ever more disposed to see the favourable than unfavourable side of things; a turn of mind which it is more happy to possess, than to be born to an estate of ten thousand a year. In 1751,1 removed from the country to the town, the true scene for a man of letters. In 1752 were published at Edinburgh, where I then lived, my Political Discourses, the only work of mine that was successful on the first publication. It was well MY OWN LIFE. 23 received abroad and at home. In the same year was published at London my Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals ; Which, in my own opinion (who ought not to judge on that sub- ject), is of all my writings, historical, philosophical, or literary, incomparably the best. It came unnoticed and unobserved into the world. In 1752 the Faculty of Advocates chose me their Librarian, an office from which I received little or no emolument, but which gave me the command of a large library. I then formed the plan of writing the History of England; but being frighten- ed with the notion of continuing a narrative through a period of seventeen hundred years, I commenced with the accession of the house of Stuart, an epoch when I thought the misrepresen- tations of faction began chiefly to take place. I was, I own, sanguine in my expectations of the success of this work. I thought that I was the only historian that had at once neglected present power, interest, and authority, and the cry of popular prejudices; and as the subject was suited to every capacity, I expected proportional applause. But miserable was my disap- pointment : I was assailed by one cry of reproach, disapproba- tion, and even detestation; English, Scotch, and Irish, Whig and Tory, churchman and sectary, freethinker and religionist, patriot and courtier, united in their rage against the man who had presumed to shed a generous tear for the fate of Charles I. and the earl of Strafford; and after the first ebullitions of their fury were over, what was still more mortifying, the book seemed to sink into oblivion. Mr. Millar told me, that in a twelvemonth he sold only forty-five copies of it. I scarcely, indeed, heard of one man in the three kingdoms, considerable for rank or letters, that could endure the book. I must only except the primate of England, Dr. Herring, and the primate of Ireland, Dr. Stone, which seem two odd exceptions. These dignified prelates sepa- rately sent me messages not to be discouraged. I was, however, I confess discouraged; and had »ot the war at that time been breaking out between France and England, 1 24 MY OWN LIFE. had certainly retired to some provincial town of the former kingdom, have changed my name, and never more have return- ed to my native country. But as this scheme was not now prac- ticable, and the subsequent volume was considerably advanced, I resolved to pick up courage and to persevere. In this interval, I published at London my Natural History of Religion, along with some other small pieces: its public entry was rather obscure, except only that Dr. Hurd wrote a pamphlet against it, with all the illiberal petulance, arrogance, and scur- rility, which distinguish the Warburtonian school. This pam- phlet gave me some consolation for the otherwise indifferent re- ception of my performance. In 1756, two years after the fall of the first volume, was pub- lished the second volume of my History, containing the period from the death of Charles I. till the Revolution. This perform- ance happened to give less displeasure to the Whigs, and was better received. It not only rose itself, but helped to buoy up its unfortunate brother. But though I had been taught by experience, that the Whig party were in possession of bestowing all places, both ' n the state and in literature, I was so little inclined to yield to their sense- less clamour, that in above a hundred alterations, which farther study, reading, or recollection engaged me to make in the reigns of the two first Stuarts, I have made all of them invariably to the Tory side. It is ridiculous to consider the English consti- tution before that period as a regular plan of liberty. In 1759, I published my History of the House of Tudor. The clamour against this performance was almost equal to that against the History of the two first Stuarts. The reign of Eliz- abeth was particularly obnoxious. But I was now callous against the impressions of public folly, and continued very peace- ably and contentedly in my retreat at Edinburgh, to finish, in two volumes, the more early part of the English History, which I gave to the public in 17G1, with tolerable, and but tolerable success. MY OWN LIFE. 25 But notwithstanding this variety of winds and seasons to which my writings had been exposed, they had still been making such advances, that the copy-money given me by the booksellers much exceeded any thing formerly known in England; I was become not only independent, but opulent. I retired to my native coun- try of Scotland, determined never more to set my foot out of it; and retaining the satisfaction of never having preferred a re- quest to one great man, or even making advances of friendship to any of them. As I was now turned of fifty, I thought of passt ing all the rest of my life in this philosophical manner, when I received, in 1763, an invitation from the earl of Hertford, with whom I was not in the least acquainted, to attend him on hi« embassy to Paris; with a near prospect of being appointed secre- tary to the embassy; and, in the meanwhile, of performing the functions of that office. This offer, however inviting, I at first declined, both because I was reluctant to begin connections with the great, and because I was afraid that the civilities and gay company of Paris would prove disagreeable to a person of my age and humour; but on bis lordship's repeating the invitation f accepted of it. I have every reason, both of pleasure and inte- rest, to think myself happy in my connections with that noble- man, as well as afterwards with his brother general Conway. Those who have not seen the strange effects of modes will never imagine the reception I met with at Paris, from men and women of all ranks and stations. The more I resiled from their excessive civilities, the more I was loaded with them. There is, however, a real satisfaction in living at Paris, from the great number of sensible, knowing, and polite company with which that city abounds above all places in the universe. I thought once of settling there for life. I was appointed secretary to the embassy; and, in summer 1765, lord Hertford left me, being appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. I was Charge d'affaires till the arrival of the duke of Richmond, towards the end of the year. In the beginning of D 26 51Y OWN LIFE. 1766,1 left Paris, and next summer went to Edinburgh, with-the same view as formerly, of burying myself in a philosophical re- treat. I returned to that place, not richer, but with much more money, and a much larger income, by means of lord Hertford's friendship, than I left it,, and I was desirous of trying what su- perfluity could produce, as I had formerly made an experiment of a competency. But in 1767 I received from Mr^ Conway an invitation to be Under-secretary; and this invitation, both the character of the person, and my connexions with lord Hertford, prevented me from declining. I returned to Edinburgh in 1769, very opulent (for I possessed a revenue of a thousand pounds a year), healthy, and though somewhat stricken in years, with the prospect of enjoying long my ease, and of seeing the encrease of my reputation. In spring 1775 I was struck with a disorder in my bowels* which at first gave me no alarm, but has since, as I apprehend it, become mortal and incurable. I now reckon upon a speedy dissolution. I have suffered very little pain from my disorder; and what is more strange, have, notwithstanding the great de- cline of my person, never suffered a moment's abatement of my spirits; insomuch, that were I to name a period of my life which I should most choose to pass over again, I might be tempted to point to-this latter period. I possess the same ardour as ever in study, and the same gaiety in company. I consider, besides, that a man of sixty-five, by dying, cuts off only a few years of infirmities; and though I see many symptoms of my literary reputation's breaking out at last with additional lustre, I knew that I could have but few years to enjoy it. It is difficult to be more detached from life than I am at present. To conclude historically with my own character. I am, or rather was (for that is the style I must now use in speaking of myself, which emboldens me more to speak my sentiments); I was, I say, a man of mild disposition, of common temper, of an open, social, and cheerful humour, capable of attachment, but MY OWN LIFE. 2T little susceptible of enmity, and of great moderation in all my passions. Even my love of literary fame, my ruling passion, never soured my temper, notwithstanding my frequent disap- pointments. My company was net unacceptable to the young and careless, as well as to the studious and literary; and as I took a particular pleasure in the company of modest women, I had no reason to be displeased with the reception I met with from them. In a word, though most men, anywise eminent, have found reason to complain of calumny, I never was touched, or even attacked, by her baleful tooth; and though I wantonly ex- posed myself to the rage of both civil and religious factions, they seemed to be disarmed in my behalf of their wonted fury. My friends never had occasion to vindicate any one circumstance of my character and conduct: not but that the zealots, we may well suppose, would have been glad to invent and propagate any story to my disadvantage, but they could never find any which they thought would wear the face of probability. I cannot say there is no vanity in making this funeral oration of myself; but I hope it is not a misplaced one; and this is a matter of fact which is easily cleared and ascertained. ^jrin8,1776. LETTER FROM ADAM SMITH, L. L> D. TO WM. STRAHAN, EST*. Kirkaldy, Fifeshire, Nov. 9, 1776. Dear Sir, IT is with a real, though a very melancholy pleasure, that I sit down to give you some account of the behaviour of our late excel- lent friend, Mr. Hume, during his last illness. Though in his own judgment his disease was mortal and incur- able,yet he allowed himself to be prevailed upon, by the entreaty 28 MY OWN LIFE. of his friends, to try what might be the effects of a long journey. A few days before he set out, he wrote that account of his own life, which, together with his other papers, he has left to your care. My account, therefore, shall begin where his ends. He set out for London towards the end of April, and at Morpeth met with Mr. John Home and myself, who had both come down from London on purpose to see him, expecting to have found him at Edinburgh. Mr. Home returned with him, and attended him during the whole of his stay in England, with that care and attention which might be expected from a temper so perfectly friendly and affectionate. As I had written to my mother that she might expect me in Scotland, I was under the necessity of continuing my journey. His disease seemed to yield to exer- cise and change of air, and when he arrived in London, he was apparently in much better health than when he left Edinburgh. He was advised to go to Bath to drink the waters, which appear- ed for some time to have so good an effect upon him, that even he himself began to entertain, what he was not apt to do, a better opinion of his own health. His symptoms, however, soon return- ed with their usual violence, and from that moment he gave up all thoughts of recovery, but submitted with the utmost cheerful- ness, and the most perfect complacency and resignation. Upon his return to Edinburgh, though he found himself much weaker, yet his cheerfulness never abated, and he continued to divert himself, as usual, with correcting his own works for a new edition, with reading books of amusement, with the conversa- tion of his friends; and sometimes in the evening with a party at his favourite game of whist. His cheerfulness was so great, and his conversation and amusements run so much in their usual strain, that, notwithstanding all bad symptoms, many people could not believe he was dying. " I shall tell your, friend colonel Edmondstone," said doctor Dundas to him one day, " that I left you much better, and in a fair way of recovery."—" Doctor," said he, " as I believe you would not choose to tell any thing but the truth, you had better tell him, MY OWN LIFE. 29 that I am dying as fast as my enemies, if I have any, could wish, and as easily and cheerfully as my best friends could desire." Colonel Edmondstone soon afterwards came to see him, and take leave of him; and on his way home he could not forbear writing him a letter, bidding him once more the eternal adieu, and ap- plying to him, as to a dying man, the beautiful French verses in which the Abbe Chaulieu, in expectation of his own death, laments his approaching separation from his friend the marquis de la Fare. Mr. Hume's magnanimity and firmness were such, that his most affectionate friends knew that they hazarded no- thing in talking or writing to him as to a dying man, and that so far from being hurt by this frarfkness, he was rather pleased and flattered by it. I happened to come into his room while he was reading this letter, which he had just received, and which he im- mediately showed me. I told him, that though I was sensible how very much he was weakened, and that appearances were in many respects very bad, yet his cheerfulness was still so great, the spirit of life seemed still to be so very strong in him, that I could not help entertaining some faint hopes. He answered, " Your hopes are groundless. An habitual diarrhoea of more than a year's standing, would be a very bad disease at any age: at my age, it is a mortal one. When I lie down in the evening, I feel myself weaker than when I rose in the morning; and when I rise in the morning weaker than when I lay down in the evening. I am sensible, besides, that some of my vital parts are affected, so that I must soon die." i Well,' said I, i if it must be so, you have at least the satisfaction of leaving all your friends, your bro- ther's family in particular, in great prosperity.' He said, that he felt that satisfaction so sensibly, that when he was reading, a few days before, Lucian's Dialogues of the Dead, among all the excuses which are alleged to Charon for not entering readily into his boat, he could not find one that fitted him; he had no house to finish,he had no daughter to provide for, he had no ene- mies upon whom he wished to revenge himself. «I could not well imagine," said he, " what excuse I could make to Charon in order to obtain a little delay. I have done every thing of conse- so HY OWK LIFE. quence which I ever meant to do, and I could at no time expect to leave my relations and friends in a better situation than that in which I am now likely to leave them: I therefore have all rea- son to die contented." He then diverted himself with invent- ing several jocular excuses which he supposed he might make to Charon, and with imagining the very surly answers which it might suit the character of Charon to return to them. " Upon further consideration," said he, " I thought I might say to him, « Good Charon, I have been correcting my works for a new edition. Allow me a little time, that I may see how the public receives the alterations." But Charon would answer, " When you have seen the effect of these, you will be for making other al- terations. There will be no end of such excuses; so, honest friend, please step into the boat." But I might still urge, " Have a little patience, good Charon, I have been endeavouring to open the eyes oi the public. If I live a few years longer, I may have the satisfaction of seeing the downfall of some of the prevailing systems of superstition." But Charon would then lose all temper and decency. " You loitering rogue, that will not hap- pen these many hundred years. Do you faricy I will grant you a lease for so long a term ? Get into the boat this instant, you lazy loitering rogue." But though Mr. Hume always talked of his approaching dis- solution with great cheerfulness, he never affected to make any parade of his magnanimity. He never mentioned the subject but when the conversation naturally led to it, and never dwelt longer upon it than the course of the conversation happened to require. It was a subject, indeed, which occurred pretty fre- quently, in consequence of the enquiries which his friends, who came to see him, naturally made concerning the state of his health. The conversation which I mentioned above, and which passed on Thursday the 8th of August, was the last, except one, that I ever had with him. He had now become so very weak, that the company of his most intimate friends fatigued him; for his cheer- fulness was still so great, his complaisance and social disposition MY OWN LIFE- 31 I were still so entire, that when my friend was with him, he could not help talking more, and with greater exertion, than suited the weakness of his body. At his own desire, therefore, I agreed to leave Edinburgh, where I was staying partly upon his account, and returned to my mother's house here at Kirkaldy, upon con- dition that he would send for me whenever he wished to see me; the physician who saw him most frequently, Dr. Black, under- taking, in the mean time, to write me occasionally an account of the state of his health. On the 22d of August the doctor wrote me the following letter; " Since my last, Mr. Hume has passed his time pretty easily, but is much weaker. He sits up, goes down stairs once a day, and amuses himself with reading, but seldom sees any body. He finds that even the conversation of his most intimate friends fa- tigues and oppresses him; and it is happy that he does not need it, for he is quite free from anxiety, impatience, or low spirits, and passes his time very well with the assistance of amusing books." I received the day after a letter from Mr. Hume himself, of which the following is an extract. " My Dearest Friend, Edinburgh, Aug. 23,1776. " I am obliged to make use of my nephew's hand in writing to you, as I did not rise to day. ****** * * * * * ****»*• " I go very fast to decline, and last night had a ssmall fever,. which I hoped might put a quicker period to this tedious illness; but unluckily it has in a great measure gone off. I cannot sub- mit to your coining over here on my account, as it is possible for me to see you so small a part of the day; but Dr. Black can bet- ter inform you concerning the degree of strength which may from time to time remain with me. Adieu, &c." 32 MY OWN LITE. Three days after, I received the following letter from Dr. Black : " Dear Sir, Edinburgh, Monday, dug. 26, 1776. " Yesterday, about four o'clock, afternoon, Mr. Hume expir- ed. The near approach of his death became evident in the night between Thursday and Friday, when his disease became exces- sive, and soon weakened him so much, that he could no longer rise out of his bed. He continued to the last perfectly sensible, and free from much pain or feelings of distress. He never drop- ped the smallest expression of impatience; but when he had occasion to speak to the people about him, always did it with affection and tenderness. I thought it improper to write to bring you over, especially as I heard that he had dictated a let- ter to you, desiring you not to come. When he became very weak, it cost him an effort to speak, and he died in such a happy composure of mind that nothing could exceed it." Thus died our most excellent and never-to-be forgotten friend; concerning whose philosophical opinions men will no doubt judge variously, every one approving or condemning them, according as they happen to coincide or disagree with his own; but concerning whose character and conduct there can scarce be a difference of opinion. His temper, indeed, seemed to be more happily balanced, if I may be allowed such an expression, than that perhaps of any other man I have ever known. Even in the lowest state of his fortune, his great and necessary frugality never hindered him from exercising, upon proper occasions, acts both of charity and generosity. It was a frugality founded not upon avarice, but upon the love of independency. The extreme gentleness of his nature never weakened either the firmness of his mind, or the steadiness of his resolutions. His constant pleasantry was the genuine effusion of good-nature and good- humour, tempered with delicacy and modesty, and without even the slightest tincture of malignity, so frequently the disagreeable source of what is called wit in other men. It never was the MY OWN LIFE. S3 meaning of his raillery to mortify; and therefore, far from of- fending, it seldom failed to please and delight even those who were the objects of it. To his friends, who were frequently the objects of it, there was not, perhaps, any one of all his great and amiable qualities which contributed more to endear his conver- sation. And that gaiety of temper so agreeable in society, but which is so often accompanied with frivolous and superficial quali- ties, was in him certainly attended with the most severe appli- cation, the most extensive learning, the greatest depth of thought, and a capacity in every respect the most comprehensive. Upon the whole, I have always considered him, both in his life-time and since his death, as approaching as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man as perhaps the nature of human frailty will permit. I ever am, dear sir, Most affectionately yours, ADAM SMITH, E ESSAY I. QF THE DELICACY OF TASTE AND PASSION, SOME People are subject to a certain delicacy of passion., which makes them extremely sensible to all the accidents 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 friend- ship ; while the smallest 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 enjoyments, 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 rather be of the latter character, were he entire- ly master of his own disposition. Good or ill fortune is very little at our disposal: And when a person, that has this sensibi- lity of temper, meets with any misfortune, his sorrow or resent- ment takes entire possession of him, and deprives him of all re- lish in the common occurrences 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 in the latter. Not to mention, that men of such lively passions are apt to be transported beyond all bounds of prudence and discre- tion, and to take false steps in the conduct of life, which are often irretrievable. There is a delicacy of taste observable in some men, which very much resembles this delicacy otpassion, and produces the 36' ESSAY I. same sensibility to beauty and deformity of every kind, as that does to prosperity and adversity, obligations 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 per- ceived with more exquisite relish and satisfaction, than the neg- ligences or absurdities with disgust and uneasiness. A polite and judicious conversation affords him the highest entertain* ment; rudeness or impertinence is as great a punishment to him. In short, delicacy of taste has the same effect as delicacy of passion : It enlarges the sphere both of our happiness and mi- sery, and makes us sensible to pains as well as pleasures, which escape the rest of mankind. I believe, however, every one will agree with me, that, not- withstanding this resemblance, delicacy of taste is as much to be desired and cultivated as delicacy of passion is to be lament- ed, and to be remedied, if possible. The good or ill accidents of life are very little at our disposal; but we are pretty much masters what books we shall read, what diversions we shall partake of, and what company we shall keep. Philosophers have endeavoured to render happiness entirely independent of every thing external. That degree of perfection is im- possible to be attained: But every wise man will endea- vour to place his happiness on such objects chiefly as depend upon himself: and that is not to be attained so much by any other 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 gratifies his appetites, 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 between these two species of delicacy, I am persuaded, that nothing is so pro- per to cure us of this delicacy of passion, as the cultivating of that higher and more refined taste, which enables us to judge of DELICACY OF TASTE. S7 the characters of men, of compositions of genius, and of the pro- ductions 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 temper: 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 com- position 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 su h performances. And this is a new reason for cultivating a relish in the liberal arts. Our judgment will strengthen by this exer- cise : We shall form juster notions of life : Many things, which please or afflict others, will appear to us too frivolous to engage our attention: And we shall lose by degrees that sensibility and delicacy of passion, which is so incommodious. But perhaps I have gone too far in saying, that a cultivated taste for the polite arts extinguishes the passions, and renders us indifferent to those objects, which are so fondly pursued by the rest of mankind. On farther reflection, I find, that it ra- ther 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, Emollit mores, nee sinit esse feros For this, I think there may be assigned two very natural rea- sons. In the first place, nothing is so improving to the temper as the study of the beauties, either of poetry, eloquence, music, or -paintingi 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 j cherish reflection; dispose 38 ESSAY I. to tranquility; and produce an agreeable melancholy, which, of all dispositions of the mind, is the best suited to love and friend- ship. In the second place, a delicacy of taste is favourable to love and friendship, by confining our choice to few people and mak- ing us indifferent to the company and conversation of the great- er part of men. You will seldom find, that mere men of the world, whatever strong sense they may be endowed with, are very nice in distinguishing characters, or in marking those in- sensible differences and gradations, which make one man pre- ferable to another. Any one, that has competent sense is suffi- cient for their entertainment: They talk to him, of their plea- sure and affairs, with the same frankness that they would to another; and finding many, who are fit to supply his place, they never feel any vacancy or want in his absence. But to make use of the allusion of acelebrated French * author, the judgment may be compared to a clock or watch, where the most ordinary machine is sufficient to tell the hours; but the most elaborate alone can point out the minutes and seconds, and distinguish the smallest differences of time. One that has well digested his knowledge both of books and men, has little enjoyment but in the company of a few select companions. He feels too sensi- bly, how much all the rest of mankind fall short of the notions which he has entertained. And, his affections being thus con- fined 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 him into a solid friendship: And the ardours of a youthful appetite become an elegant passion. * Mons. Foxtejtew,e, Pluralite des Mondes, Sdir. 6. essay n. OF THE LIBERTY OF THE PRES&. i NOTHING is more apt to surprise a foreigner, than the ex- treme liberty, which we enjoy in this country, of communicating whatever we please to the public, and of openly censuring eve- ry measure, entered into by the king or his ministers. If the administration resolve upon war, it is affirmed, that, either wil- fully or ignorantly, they mistake the interests of the nation, and that peace, in the present situation of affairs, is infinitely prefer- able. If the passion of the ministers lie towards peace, our po- litical writers breathe nothing but war and devastation, and re- present the pacific conduct of the government as mean and pu- sillanimous. As this liberty is not indulged in any other go- vernment, either republican or monarchical; in Holland and Venice, more than in France or Spain; it may very naturally give occasion to a question, How it happens that Great Bri- tain alone enjoys this peculiar privilege? The reason, why the laws indulge us in such a liberty seems to be derived from our mixed form of government, which is nei- ther wholly monarchical, nor wholly republican. It will be found, if I mistake not, a true observation in politics, that tlie two extremes in government, liberty and slavery, commonly ap- proach nearest to each other; and that, as you depart from the extremes, and mix a little of monarchy with liberty, the govern- ment becomes always the more free; and on the other hand, when you mix a little of liberty with monarchy, the yoke be- comes always the more grievous and intolerable. In a govern- ment, such as that of France, which is absolute, and where 40 ESSAY II. law, custom, and religion concur, all of them, to make the peo- ple fully satisfied with their condition, the monarch cannot en- tertain any jealousy 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 give jealousy to the state, there is no danger in intrusting the magistrates with large discretionary powers; and though many advantages 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 evident, that the two extremes of absolute mo- narchy and of a republic, approach near to each other in some material circumstances. In the first, the magistrate has no jea- lousy of the people: in the second, the people have none of the magistrate : Which want of jealousy begets a mutual confidence and trust in both cases, and produces a species of liberty in monarchies, and of arbitrary power in republics. To justify the other part of the foregoing observation, that, in every government, the means are most wide of each other, and that the mixtures of monarchy and liberty render the yoke either more easy or more grievous; I must take notice of a re- mark in Tacitus with regard to the Romans under the empe rors, that they neither could bear total slavery nor total liberty. Nee totam servitutem, nee totam libertatem pati possunt. This remark a celebrated poet has translated and applied to the En- glish, in his lively description of queen Elizabeth's poliov and government, Et fit aimer sqn joug a 1' Anglois indompte, Qui ne peut ni servir, ni vivre en liberte. IIcxniADE, liv. f. According to these remarks, we are to consider the Roma -: government under the emperors as a mixture of despotism r.r.,1 delicacy of taste. 41 liberty, where the despotism prevailed; and the English government as a mixture of the same kind, where the liber- ty predominates. The consequences are conformable to the foregoing observation; and such as may be expected from those mixed forms of government, which beget a mutual watchfulness and jealousy. The Roman emperors were, ma- ny of them, the most frightful tyrants that ever disgraced 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 family, which, but a little before, was no wise superior to their own. On the other hand, as the republican part of the govern- ment prevails in England, though with a great mixture of mo- narchy, it is obliged, for its own preservation, to maintain a watchful jealousy over the magistrates, to remove all discretion- ary powers, and to secure every one's life and fortune by gene- ral and inflexible laws. No action must be deemed a crime but what the law has plainly determined to be such : No crime must be imputed to a man but from a legal proof before his judges j and even these judges must be his fellow-subjects, who are ob- liged, 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 much liberty, and even, per- haps, licentiousness in Great Britain, as there were former- ly 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 govern- ment. It is apprehended, that arbitrary power would steal in upon us, were we not careful to prevent its progress, and were there not an easy method of conveying the alarm from one end of tlie kingdom to the other. The spirit of the people must fre- quently be rouzed, in order to curb the ambition of the court; and the dread of routing this spirit must be employed to pre- vent that ambition. Nothing so effectual to this purpose as the liberty of the press, by which all the learning, wit, and genius F 42 ESSAY II. of the nation may be employed on the side of freedom, and eve- ry one be animated to its defence. As long, therefore, as the republican part of our government can maintain itself against the monarchical, it will naturally be careful to keep the press open, as of importance to its own preservation. It must however be allowed, that the unbounded liberty of the press, though it be difficult, perhaps impossible, to propose a suitable remedy for it, is one of the evils, attending those mixt forms of government. ESSAY III. THAT POLITICS MAY BE REDUCED TO A SCIENCE. IT is a question with several, whether there be any essential difference between one form of government and another ? and, whether every form may not become good or bad, according as it is well or ill administered ?* Were it once admitted, that all governments are alike, and that the only difference consists in the character and conduct of the governors most political disputes would be at an end, and all Zeal for one constitution above ano- ther, must be esteemed mere bigotry and folly. But, though a friend to moderation, I cannot forbear condemning this senti- ment, and should be sorry to think, that human affairs admit of no greater stability, than what they receive from the casual hu- mours and characters of particular men. It is true ; those who maintain, that the goodness of all go- vernment consists in the goodness of the administration, may cite many particular instances in history, where the very same government, in different hands, has varied suddenly into the two opposite extremes of good and bad. Compare the French go- vernment under Henry III. and under Henry IV. Oppres- sion, levity, artifice on the part of the rulers ; faction, sedition, treachery, rebellion, disloyalty on the part of the subjects: These compose the character of the former miserable sera. But when the patriot and heroic prince, who succeeded, was once firmly seated on the throne, the government, the people, every * For forms of government let fools contest, Whatever is best administer 'd is best. Essats on Man, Book, 3. 44 ESSAY III. thing seemed to be totally changed ; and all from the difference of the temper and conduct of these two sovereigns. Instances of this kind may be multiplied, almost without number, from an- cient as well as modern history, foreign as well as domestic. But here it may be proper to make a distinction. All abso- lute governments must very much depend on the administra- tion ; and this is one of the great inconveniences attending that form of government. But a republican and free govern- ment would be an obvious absurdity, if the particular checks and controuls, provided by the constitution, had really no influ- ence, and made it not the interest, even of bad men, to act for tlie public good. Such is the intention of these forms of govern- ment, and such is their real effect, where they are wisely con- stituted : As on the other hand, they are the source of all dis- order, and of the blackest crimes, where either skill or honesty has been wanting in their original frame and institution. So great is the force of laws, and of particular forms of go- vernment, and so little dependence have they on the humours and tempers of men, that consequences almost as general and certain may sometimes be deduced from them, as any which the mathematical sciences afford us. The constitution of the Roman republic gave the whole le- gislative power to the people, without allowing a negative voice either to the nobility or consuls. This unbounded power they possessed in a collective, not in a representative body. The consequences were : When the people, by success and con- quest, had become very numerous, and had spread themselves to a great distance from the capital, the city-tribes, though the most contemptible, carried almost every vote: They were, therefore, most cajoled by every one that affected popularity : They were supported in idleness by the general distribution of corn, and by particular bribes, which they received from almost every candidate: By this means, they became every day more / POLITICS A SCIENCE. 45 licentious, and the Campus Martius was a perpetual scene of tumult and sedition : Armed slaves were introduced among these rascally citizens ; so that the whole government fell into anarchy, and the greatest happiness, which the Romans could look for, was the despotic power of the Cjesars. Such are the effects of democracy without a representative. A nobility may possess the whole, or any part of the legisla- tive power of a state, in two different ways. Either every no- bleman shares the power as part of the whole body, or the whole body enjoys the power as composed of parts, which have each a distinct power and authority. The Venetian aristocra- cy is an instance of the first kind of government : The Polish of the second. In the Venetian government the whole body of nobility possesses the whole power, and no nobleman has any authority which he receives not from the whole. In the Polish government every nobleman, by 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 different 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 common, will preserve peace and order, both among themselves, and their subjects; and no member can have autliority enough to controul 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 ; be- cause such a tyrannical government promotes not the interests of the whole body, however it may that of some individuals. There will be a distinction of rank between the nobility and people, but this will be the only distincti in in the state. The whole nobility will form one body, and the whole people ano- ther, without any of those private feuds and animosities, which spread f ruin and desolation every where. It is easy to see the dis- advantages of a Polish nobility in every one of these particulars. 46 ESSAY III. It is possible so to constitute a free government, as that a single person, call him doge, prince, or king, shall possess a large share of power, and shall form a proper balance or coun- terpoise to the other parts of the legislature. This chief magis- trate may be either elective or hereditary ; and though the for- mer institution may, to a superficial view, appear the most ad- vantageous; yet a more accurate inspection will discover in it greater inconveniences than in the latter, and such as are found- ed on causes and principles eternal and immutable. The fill- ing of the throne, in such a government, is a point of too great and too general interest, not to divide the whole people into fac- tions : Whence a civil war, the greatest of ills, may be appre- hended, 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 confi- dence entirely to strangers, who will have no other care but of enriching themselves in the quickest manner, while their mas- ter'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 excit- ing the sentiment of envy in those, who formerly considered him as their equal. Not to mention that a crown is too high a reward ever to be given to merit alone, and will always induce the candidates to employ force, or money, or intrigue, to pro- cure the votes of the electors: So that such an election will give no better chance for superior merit in the prince, than if the gtatehad trusted to birth alone for determining their sovereign. It may therefore be pronounced as an universal axiom in poli- tics, That an hereditary prince, a nobility without vassals, and a people voting by their representatives, form the best monar- chy, aristocracy and democracy. But in order to prove more fully, that politics admit of general truths, which are inva- riable by the humour or education either of subject or sovereign, it may not be amiss to observe some other principles of this -~: . t :. u mr>„ for instance, were careful to prevent all oppression on the pro- vinces. In JTiberius's time, Gaul was esteemed richer than Italy itself: Nor do I find, during the whole time of the Roman monarchy, that the empire became less rich or populous in any of its provinces; though indeed its valour and military disci- pline were always upon the decline. The oppression and ty- ranny of the Carthaginians over their subject states in Africa went so far, as we learn from Polybius ||, that, not content with exacting the half of all the produce of the land, which of itself was a very high rent, they also loaded them with many other taxes. If we pass from ancient to modern times, we shall still find the observation to hold. The provinces of absolute monar- chies are always better treated than those of free states. Com- pare the Pais 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 challenge bet- * Ann. lib. 1. cap. 2. f Suet, in vita Domit. * Egregium resumendae libertati tempus, si ipsi florentes, quam inops Italia, quam imbellis urbana plebs, nihil validum in exercitibus, nisi quod externum cogitarent. Tacit. Ann. lib. 3. i Lib. 1. cap. 72. politics a science. 49 t6r treatment than that of a conquered province. Corsica is also an obvious instance to the same purpose. There is an observation in Machiavel, with regard to the conquests of Alexander the Great, which I think may be re- garded as one of those eternal political truths, which no time nor accidents can vary. It may seem strange, says that politi- cian, 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 recovery of their former independent government. To satisfy us concern- ing the cause of this remarkable*event, we may consider, that a monarch may govern his subjects in two different ways. He may either follow the maxims of the eastern princes, and stretch his authority so far as to leave no distinction of rank among his subjects, but what proceeds immediately from himself; no ad- vantages of birth; no hereditary honours and possessions; and, in a word, no credit among the people, except from his commis- sion alone. Or a monarch may exert his power after a milder manner, like other European princes; and leave other sources of honour, beside his smile and favour ; Birth, titles, possessions, valour, integrity, knowledge, or great and fortunate achieve- ments. In the former species of government, after a conquest, it is impossible ever to shake off the yoke; since no one posses- ses, among the people, so much personal credit and authority as to begin such an enterprise: Whereas, in the latter, the least misfortune, or discord among the victors, will encourage the vanquished to take arms, who have leaders ready to prompt and conduct them in every undertakingf. Such is the reasoning of Machiavel, which seems solid and conclusive ; though 1 wish he had not mixed falsehood with truth in asserting, that monarchies, governed according to eastern j-See note [A.I G 50 ESSAY III. policy, though more easily kept when once subdued, yet are the most difficult to subdue ; since they cannot contain any power- ful subject, whose discontent and faction may facilitate the en- terprizes of an enemy. For besides, that such a tyrannical government enervates the courage of men, and renders them in- different towards the fortunes of their sovereign ; besides this I say, we find by experience, that even the temporary and de- legated authority of the generals and magistrates; being al- ways, in such governments, 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 government 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 pos- terity. Effects will always correspond to causes; and wise re- gulations in any commonwealth 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 business must be con- ducted are found to be a considerable check on the natural depra- vity of mankind. Why should not the case be the same in pub- lic affairs ? Can we ascribe the stability and wisdom of the Venetian government, through so many ages, to any thin«-but the form of government ? And is it not easy to point out those defects in the original constitution, which produced the tumul- tuous governments of Athens and Rome, and ended at last in the ruin of these two famous republics ? And so little depen- dancehas this affair on the humours and education of particular men, that one part of the same republic maybe wisely conduct- ed, and another weakly, by the very same men, merely on ac- count of the difference of the forms and institutions, by which these parts are regulated. Historians inform us that this was actually the case with Genoa. For while the state was always politics a science. 51 full of sedition, and tumult, and disorder, the bank of St. George, which had become a considerable part of the people, was conducted, for several ages, with the utmost integrity and and wisdom.* The ages of greatest public spirit are not always most eminent for private virtue. Good laws may beget order and moderation in the government, where the manners and customs have instilled little humanity or justice into the tempers of men. The most illustrious period of the Roman history, consi- dered 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 contests of the tribunes, and not being yet lost by the extent of conquests. Yet at this very time, the horrid practice of poi- soning was so common, that, during part of a season, a Prrntor punished capitally for this crime above three thousand f per- sons in a part of Italy ; and found informations of this nature still multiplying upon him. There is a similiar, or rather a worse instance!, in the more early times of the commonwealth. 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 spread- * Essempio veramente raro, da Filosofi intante' loro imaginate & ve- dute Republiche mai non trovato, vedere dentro ad un medesimo cer- chio, framedesimi cittadini, laliberta, & la tirannide, la vita civile & la corotta, la giustitia & licenza; perche quello ordine solo mantiere quella citta piena di costumi antichi 8c venerabili. E s'egli auvenisse (che col tempo in ogni modo auverra) que San Gioncio tutta quella citta occu- passe, sarrebbe quella una Republica piu dalla Vxsetiana memorabile, Delia Hist. Florentine, lib. 8. f T. Livii, lib. 40. cap. 43. \Id.\\h. 8. cap. 13. 52 ESSAY III. ing slaughter and desolatioa 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 particular men restrained and punished. Nothing does more honour to human nature, than to see it sus- ceptible of so noble a passion ; as nothing can be a greater in- dication of meanness of heart in any man, than to see him desti- tute of it. A man who loves only himself, without regard to friendship and desert, merits the severest blame; and a man, who is only susceptible of friendship, without public spirit, or a regard to the community, is deficient in the most material part of virtue. But this is a subject which needs not be longer insisted on at present. There are enough of zealots on bothtsidcs who kindle up the passions of their partizans, 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 moderation than zeal; though perhaps the surest way of producing modera- tion 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 moderation 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 pas- sion, with which every individual is bound to pursue the good of his country. Those who either attack or defend a minister in such a go- vernment as ours, where the utmost liberty is allowed, always carry matters to an extreme, and exaggerate his merit or • L'Aigle contre L'Aigle, Romains contre Romains, Combatans seulement pour le choix de tyrans. P0TITICS A SCIENCE. 53 demerit with regard to the public. His enemies are sure to charge him with the greatest enormities, both in domestic and foreign management; and there is no meanness or crime of which, in their account, he is not capable. Unnecessary wars, scandalous treaties, profusion of public treasure, oppressive taxes, every kind of mal-administration is ascribed to him. To aggravate the charge, his pernicious conduct, it is said, will extend its bale- ful influence even to posterity, by undermining the best con- stitution in the world, and disordering that wise system of laws, institutions, and customs, by which our ancestors during so many centuries, have been so happily governed. He is not only a wicked minister in himself, but has removed every security provided against wicked ministers for the future. On the other hand, the partizans of the minister make his panegyric run as high as the accusation against him, and celebrate his wise, steady, and moderate conduct in every part of his ad- ministration. 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 ascrib- ed solely to the minister. At the same time, he crowns alibis other merits by a religious care of the best constitution in the world, which he has preserved in all its parts, and has trans- mitted entire, to be the happiness and security of the latest pos- terity. < When this accusation and panegyric are received by the par- tizans of each party, no wonder they beget an extraordinary ferment on both sides, and fill the nation with violent animosi- ties. But I would fain persuade these party-zealots, that t'ere 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 really that noble fabric, the pride of Britain, the envy of our neighbours, raised by the labour of so many centuries, repaired at the ex- pence of so many millions, and cemented by such a profusion 54 JESSAY Ht. of blood* ; I say, if our constitution does in any degree de- serve these eulogies, it would never have suffered a wicked and weak minister to govern triumphantly for a course of twenty years, when opposed by the greatest geniuses in the nation, who exercised the utmost liberty of tongue and pen, in parliament, and in their frequent appeals to the people. But, if the minis- ter be wicked and weak, to the degree so strenuously insisted on, the constitution must be faulty in its original principles, and he cannot consistently 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-administration ; and if the British, when in its greatest vigour, and repaired by two such remarkable events, as the Revolution and Accession, by which our ancient royal family was sacrificed to it ; if our con- stitution, I say, with so great advantages, does not, in fact, provide any such remedy, we are rather beholden to any minis- ter who undermines it, and affords us an opportunity of erect- ing 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 f Then a change of ministry can be no such dreadful event; since it is essential to such a constitution, in every ministry, both to preserve itself from violation, and to prevent all enormities in the administration. Is our constitution very bad ? Then so extraordinary a jealousy and apprehension, on account of chan- ges, 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 watchful to prevent her infidelity. Public affairs, in such a government, must necessarily go to confusion, by what- ever hands they are conducted; and the zeal of patriots is in that case much less requisite than the patience and submission of philosophers. The virtue and good intentions ofCATO and Brutus are highly laudable ; but, to what purpose did their * Dissertation on parties, Letter 10. politics a science. 55 zeal serve ? Only to hasten the fatal period of the Roman go- vernment, and render its convulsions and dying agonies more violent and painful. I would not be understood to mean, that public affairs de- serve no care and attention at all. Would men be moderate and consistent, their claims might be admitted ; at least might be examined. The country-party might still assert, that our constitution, though excellent, will admit of mal-administra- tion to a certain degree ; and therefore, if the minister be bad, it is proper to oppose him with a suitable degree of zeal. And, on the other hand, the court-party may be allowed, upon the supposition that the minister were' good, to defend, and with some zeal too, his administration. 1 would only persuade men not to contend, as if they were fighting pro aris § foe is, and change a good constitution into a bad one, by the violence of their factions. I have not here considered any thing that is personal in the present controversy. In the best civil constitution, where every man is restrained by the most rigid laws, it is easy to discover either the good or bad intentions of a minister, and to judge, whether his personal character deserve love or hatred. But such questions 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. ESSAY rv. 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 sub- mission, with which men resign their own sentiments and passions to those of their rulers. When we enquire 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 govern- ment 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 praetorian bands, like men by their opinion. Opinion is of two kinds, to wit, opinion of interest, and opinion of right. By opinion of interest, 1 chiefly under- stand the sense of the general advantage which is reaped from government; together with the persuasion, that the particular government, which is established, is equally advantageous with any other that could 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 prevalence opinion of the first kind has over mankind, H 38 ESSAY l\. may easily be understood, by observing the attachment which all nations have to their ancient government, and even to those names, which have had the sanction of antiquity. Antiquity alwavs 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 mainten- ance of public justice. There is, indeed, no particular, in which, at first sight, there may appear 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 prin- ciple, there is no occasion, where men discover a greater obsti- nacy, and a more determined sense of justice and equity. The same social disposition of mankind is the cause of these contra- dictory appearances. It is sufficiently understood, that the opinion of right to proper- ty 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 par- ticular. This is carrying the matter too far; but still it must be owned, that the opinion of right to property has a great influence in this subject. \ Upon these three opinions, therefore, of public interest, of right to power, 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 self-interest, fear, and affection: But still we may assert, that these other principles can have no influence alone, but suppose the antecedent influ- ence of those opinions above-mentioned. They are, therefore, to be esteemed the secondary, not the original principles of government. OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 59 For, first, as to self-interest, 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 antecedently established, at least be hoped for, in order to produce this expectation. The prospect of reward may augment his authority with regard to some particular per- sons; but can never give birth to it, with regard to the public. Men naturally look for the greatest favours from their friends and acquaintance; and therefore, the hopes of any considerable number of the state would never center in any par- ticular 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 princi- ples offear 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 all the farther power he possesses must be founded either on our own opinion, or on the presumed opinion of others. And though affection to wisdom and virtue in a sove* reign extends very far, and has great influence; yet 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 the ba- lance 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 government, 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 attach- ed to their ancient government, it is not to be expected, that the public would ever favour such usurpations. But where tlie ori- ginal constitution allows any share of power, though small, to an order of men, who possess a large share of the pro- perty, it is easy for them gradually to stretch their authority, 60 ESSAY IV. and bring the balance of power to coincide with that of pro- perty. This has been the case with the house of commons in England. Most writers, that have treated of the British government, have supposed, that, as the lower house represents all the com- mons of Great Britain, its weight in the scale is proportion- ed to the property and power of all whom it represents. But this principle must not be received as absolutely true. For though the people are apt to attach themselves more to the house of commons, than to any other member of the constitution ; that house being chosen by them as their representatives, and as th*e public guardians of liberty; yet are there instances where the house, even when in opposition to the crown, has not been fol- lowed by the people; as we may particularly observe of the tory house of commons in the reign of king William. Were the members obliged to receive instructions from their constituents, like the Dutch deputies, this would 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 overbalance of property. It is true, the crown has great influence over the collective body in the elections of members; but were this influence, 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, popularity, 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, perhaps, 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 dispersed 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 interest may be pur- sued with some method and constancy. But it is needless to OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 61 reason any farther concerning 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 and improve our ancient government as much as possible, without encouraging a passion for such dangerous novelties. ESSAY V. OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. MAN, born in a family, is compelled to maintain society, from necessity, from natural inclination, and from habit. The same creature, in his farther progress, is engaged to establish political society, in order to administer justice; without which there can be no peace among them, nor safety, nor mutual intercourse. We are, therefore, to look upon all the vast apparatus of our go- vernment, as having ultimately no other objector 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 and revenue, ambassadors, ministers, and privy-counsellors, are all subordinate in their end to this part of administration. Even the clergy, as their duty leads them to inculcate morality, may justly be thought, so far as regards 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, notwith- standing this strong and obvious necessity, such is the frailty or perverseness of our nature ! it is impossible to keep men, faith- fully and unerringly, in the paths of justice. Some extraordi- nary circumstances may happen, in which a man finds his inter- ests to be more promoted by fraud or rapine, than hurt by the breach which his injustice makes in the social union. But much more frequently, he is seduced from his great and important, but distant interests, by the allurement of present, though often 64 ESSAY V. very frivolous temptations. This great weakness is incurable 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 office it is, to point out the de- grees of equity, to punish transgressors, 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 tyes of equity must be corroborated by those of alle- giance. 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 nature, lays as feeble a hold of the human mind, as the primitive and natural duty of justice. Peculiar interests and present temptations may overcome the one as well as the other. They are equally exposed to the same in- convenience. And the man, who is inclined to be a bad neigh- bour, must be led by the same motives, well or ill understood, to be a bad citizen and subject. Not to mention, that the ma- gistrate himself may often be negligent, or partial, or unjust in his administration. Experience, however, proves, that there is a great difference between the cases. Order in society, we find, is much better maintained by means of government; and our duty to the magis- trate 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 often led astray by private passions, find, in ordinary cases, a visible in- terest in the impartial administration of justice. The persons, who first attain this distinction by the consent, tacit or express. origin of government. 65 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 influence over men, and enforces the decrees of the magistrate. The prince or leader exclaims against every disorder, which disturbs his society. He summons all his partizans and all men of probity to aid him in correcting and redressing it: and he is readily followed by all indifferent persons in the execution of his office. He soon ac- quires the power of rewarding these services; and in the pro- gress 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 principles of human nature had imperfectly founded ; and men, once accustomed to obedience, never think of departing from that path, in which they and their ancestors have constantly trod, and to which they are confined by so many urgent and visible motives. But though this progress of human affairs may appear certain and inevitable, and though the support which allegiance brings to justice, be founded on obvious principles of human nature, it cannot be expected that men should beforehand be able to dis- cover them, or foresee their operation. Government commences more casually and more 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 requi- site, and where the pernicious effects of disorder are most sensibly felt. The long continuance of that state, an incident common among savage tribes, enured the people to submission ; and if the chieftain possessed as much equity as prudence and valour,he be- came, even during peace, the arbiter of all differences, and could gradually, by a mixture of force and consent, establish his au- thority. The benefit sensibly felt from his influence, made it be cherished by the people, at least by the peaceable and well dis- 1 66 ESSAY V. posed among them ; and if his son enjoyed the same good quali- ties, government advanced the sooner to maturity and perfec- tion ; but was still in a feeble state, till the farther progress of improvement procured the magistrate a revenue, and enabled him to bestow rewards on the several instruments of his administra- tion, and to inflict punishments on the refractory and disobe- dient. Before that period, each exertion of his influence must have been particular, and founded on the peculiar circumstances of the case. After 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 Libert? ; and neither of them can ever absolutely prevail in the contest. A great sa- crifice of liberty must necessarily be made in every government; yet even the authority, which confines liberty, can never, and perhaps ought never, in any constitution, to become quite entire and uncontroulable. The sultan is master of the life and for- tune 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 dangerous 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 opinion, 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 parti- tion 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 general 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 perfection of civil society; but still authority must be acknowledged essential to its very existence; and in those origin of government. 67 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 rea- son) 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 js so apt to neglect, or their ignorance to overlook. ESSAY VI. OF THE INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. POLITICAL writers have established it as a maxim, that, in contriving any system of government, and fixing the sev, ral checks and controuls 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 it, make him, notwithstanding his in:>.>t;able avarice and ambition, co-operate to public good. Without this, say they, we shall in vain boast of the advantages of any consti- tution, and shall find, in the end, that we have no security for our liberties or possessions, except the good-will of our rulers; that is, we shall have no security at all. It is, therefore, a just political maxim, that every man must be supposed a knave: Though at the same time, it appears some- what strange, that a maxim should be true in politics, which is false in fact. But to satisfy us on this head, we may consider, that men are generally more honest in their private than in their public capacity, and will go greater lengths to serve a party, than when their own private interest is alone concerned. Honour is a great check upon mankind: But where a consider- able body of men act together, this check is, in a great mea- sure, 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 great- er number of voices; so that, if self-interest influences only the majority, (as it will always do) the whole senate follows the 70 ESSAY VI. 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 examination, 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 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, disorder, and tyranny from such a government. In this opinion I am justified by experience, as well as by the au- tliority of all philosophers and politicians, both ancient and mo- dern. 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 system of mixed government, where the authority was so distributed, that one rank, when- ever it pleased, might swallow up all the rest, and engross the whole power of the constitution. Such a government, they would say, will not be a mixed government. For so great is the natural ambition of men, that they are never satisfied 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 uncontroulable. But, in this opinion, experience shews they would have been mistaken. For this is actually the case with the British con- stitution. 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 kin" INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 7\ 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 im^ mense expence; and the commons have assumed to themselves 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 ? Did the house of commons depend in the same manner on the king, and had none of the members any property but from his gift, would not he command all their re- solutions, and be from that moment absolute ? As to the house of lords, they are a very powerful support to the Crown, so long as they are, in their turn, supported by it; but both expe- rience and reason shew, 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 confined within the proper limits; since, from our very constitution, it must neces- sarily have as much power as it demands, and can only be con- fined 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 usurpation 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 disinterested part of the house, it will alwavs command the resolutions of the whole so far, at least, as to pre- serve the antient constitution from danger. We may, there- fore, give to this influence what, name we please: we mav call it n ESSAY VI. 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 government. Instead then of asserting * absolutely, that the dependence of parliament, in every degree, is an infringement of British liberty, the country-party should have made some concessions to their adversaries, and have only examined what was the pro- per degree of this dependence, beyond which it became danger- ous to liberty. But such a moderation is not to be expected in party-men of any kind. After a concession of this nature, all de- clamation must be abandoned ; and a calm enquiry into the pro- per degree of court-influence and parliamentary dependence would have been expected by the readers. And though the ad- vantage, in such a controversy, might possibly remain to the country-party; 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 ex- treme, by diminishing too f far the influence of the crown. It was, therefore, thought best to deny, that this extreme could ever be dangerous to the constitution, or that the crown could ever have too little influence over members of parliament. All questions concerning the proper medium between ex- tremes are difficult to be decided ; both because it is not easy to find words proper to fix this medium, and because the good and ill, in such cases, run so gradually into each other, as even to render our sentiments doubtful and uncertain. But there is a peculiar difficulty 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 * See Dissertation on Purtiea, throughout. f See NOTE [B ] INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 73 degree of ambition, capacity, courage, popularity, or fortune, the power, which is too great in one hand, may become too lit- tle in another. In pure republics, where the authority is distri- buted among several assemblies or senates, the checks and con- trouls are more regular in their operation ; because the members of such numerous assemblies may be presumed to be always nearly equal in capacity and virtue; and it is only their num- ber, riches, or authority, which enter into consideration. But a limited monarchy admits not of any such stability ; nor is it possible to assign to the crown such a determinate degree of power, as will, in every hand, form a proper counterbalance to the other parts of the constitution. This is an unavoidable dis- advantage, among the many advantages, attending that species of government. K ESSAY VII. WHETHER 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 principles, dares pro- phesy concerning any event, or foretell the remote consequences of things. A physician will not venture to pronounce concern- ing the condition of his patient a fortnight or 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 principle, that the balance of power depends on that of property, that he ventured to pronounce it impossible ever to re- establish monarchy in England : But his book was scarcely published when the king was restored ; and we see, that mo- narchy has ever since subsisted upon the same footing as before. Notwithstanding this unlucky example, I will venture to exa- mine an important question, to wit, Whether the British go- vernment inclines more to absolute monarchy, or to a republic ; and in which of these two species of government it will most probably terminate ? As there seems not to be any great dan- ger of a sudden revolution either way, I shall at least escape the shame attending my temerity, if I should be found to have been mistaken. Those who assert, that the balance of our government in- clines towards absolute monarchy, may support their opinion by the following reasons. That property has a great influence on power cannot possibly be denied; but yet the general maxim, that the, balance of one depends on the balance of the other, must 76 ESSAY VII. be received with several limitations. It is e\ ident, that 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 depen- dence, than the same property, when dispersed. A hundred persons, of 10001. a year a-piece, can consume all their income, and nobody shall ever be the better for them, except their ser, vants and tradesmen, who justly regard their profits as the pro- duct of their own labour. But a man possessed of 100,0001. a year, if he has either any generosity or any cunning, may cre- ate a great dependence by obligations, and still a greater by ex- pectations. Hence we may observe, that in all free govern- ments, any subject exorbitantly rieh has always created jealou- sy, even though his riches bore no proportion 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 life time, the power of Pompey as well as that of Cjes.yr, who afterwards became master of the world. The wealth of the Medici made them masters of Florence; though, it is proba* ble, it was not considerable, compared to the united property of that opulent republic. These considerations are apt to make one entertain a magnifi- cent idea of the British spirit and love of liberty ; since we could maintain our free government, during so many centuries, against our sovereigns, who, besides the power and dignity and majes- ty of the crown, have always been possessed of much more property than any subject has ever enjoyed in any common- wealth. But it may be said, that this spirit, however great, will never be able to support itself against that immense proper- ty, which is now lodged in the king, and which is still encreas- ing. Upon a moderate computation, there are near three mil- ions a year at the disposal of the crown. The civil list amounts THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 77 to near a million; the collection of all taxes to another"; and the employments in the army and navy, together with ecclesi- astical preferments, to above a third million : An enormous sum, and what may fairly be computed to be more than a thir- tieth part of the whole income and labour of the kingdom. When we add to this great property, the encreasing luxury of the nation, our proneness to corruption, together with the great power and prerogatives of the crown, and the command of mi- litary force, there is no one but must despair of being able, with our 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 preperty in the crown, 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 becomes less dangerous to liberty upon that very account. Were England a republic, and were any private 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 govern- ment : And such an irregular 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 partizans have liberty to hope for every thing in his favour : His enemies provoke his ambi- tion, 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 authority, though great, has always some bounds, which terminate both the hopes and pretensions of the person posses- sed of it: The laws must have provided a remedy against its excesses: Such an eminent magistrate has much to fear, and little to hope from his usurpations : And as his legal authority 78 ESSAY VII. is quietly submitted to, he has small temptation and small op- portunity 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 ve- hemence, that it always spreads faster, and multiplies its parti- zans with greater rapidity, than any old established opinion, re- commended by the sanction of the laws and of antiquity. Such is the nature of novelty, that, where any thing pleases, it be- comes doubly agreeable, if new ; but if it displeases, it is doub- ly displeasing, upon that very account. And, in most cases, the violence of enemies is favourable to ambitious projects, as well as the zeal of partizans. It may farther be said, that, though men be much governed by interest; yet even interest itself, and all human affairs, are entirely governed by opinion. 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 this island, have divested themselves of all supersti- tious reverence to names and authority: The clergy have much lost their credit: Their pretensions and doctrines have been ri- diculed ; 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 maintain its autho- rity in times of tranquility, upon private interest and influ- ence : yet, as the least shock or convulsion must break all these interests to pieces, the royal power, being no longer supported by the settled principles and opinions of men, will immediately dissolve. Had men been in the same disposition at the revolu- tion, as they are at present, monarchy would have run a great risque of being entirely lost in this island. THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 79 Durst I venture to deliver my own sentiments amidst these opposite arguments, I would assert, that, unless there happen some extraordinary convulsion, the power of the crown, by means of its large revenue, is rather upon the encrease: though, at the same time I own, that its progress seems very slow, and almost insensible. The tide has run long, and with some ra- pidity, to the side of popular government, and is ju3t beginning to turn towards monarchy. It is well known, that every government must come to a pe- riod, and that death is unavoidable to the political as well as to the animal body. But, as one kind of death may be preferable to another, it may be enquired, whether it be more desirable for the British constitution to terminate in a popular government, or in absolute monarchy ? Here I would frankly declare, that, though liberty be preferable to slavery, in 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 may form a plan in his- closet. There is no doubt, but a popular government may be ima- gined more perfect than absolute monarchy, or even than our present constitution. But what reason have we to expect that any such government will ever be established in Great Bri- tain, upon the dissolution of our monarchy ? If any single per- son acquire power enough to take our constitution to pieces, and put it up a-new, 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 com- mons, according to its present constitution, must be the only legislature in such a popular government. The inconveniences attending such a situation of affairs, present themselves by thousands. If the house of commons, in such a case, ever dis- solve itself, which is not to be expected, we may look for a ESSAY VII. 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 violent government cannot long subsist, we shall, at last, after many convulsions, and civil wars, find repose in ab- solute monarchy, which it would have been happier for us to have established peaceably from the beginning.* Absolute monar- chy, therefore, is the easiest death, the true Euthanasia of the British constitution. Thus, if we have reason to be more jealous of monarchy, be- cause the danger is more imminent from that quarter ; we have also reason to be more jealous of popular government, because that danger is more terrible. This may teach us a lesson of mo- deration in all our political controversies. * Mr. Hume's prejudices in favor of a monarchy, appear to have warpt his judgment in this assertion. It is only where elections are very uncommon, like that for example in Poland, that such excesses are committed. The frequency of elections, as in the United States, afford an effectual remedy against the violence apprehended by Mr. Hume. E. ESSAY VIII. OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. OF all'men, that distinguish themselves by memorable achieve- ments, the first place of honour seems due to Legislators and founders of states, who transmit a system of laws and institu- tions to secure the peace, happiness and liberty of future gene- rations. The influence of useful inventions in the arts and scien- ces may, perhaps, 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 sciences do, indeed, improve the mind ; but this advantage reaches only to a few persons, who have lei- sure to apply themselves to them. And as to practical arts, which encrease the commodities and enjoyments of life, it is well known, that men's happiness consists not so much in an abun- dance of these, as in the peace and security with which they pos- sess 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 philosophy, or even the severest injunctions of religion; but must proceed entirely from the virtuous education of youth, the effect of wise laws and in- stitutions. I must, therefore, presume to differ from Lord Bacon in this particular, and must regard antiquity as somewhat unjust in its distribution of honours, when it made gods of all the inventors of useful arts, such as Ceres, Bacchus, .ZEscula- pius; and dignify legislators, such as Romulus and Theseus, only with the appellation of demigods and heroes. L B-2 ESSAY VIII. As much as legislators and founders of states ought to be honoured and respected among men, as much ought the found- ers 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 impotent, and beget the fiercest animosities among men of the same nation, who ought to give mutual 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 by 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 propagate themselves faster in free governments, where they always infect the legislature itself, which alone could be able, by the steady application of rewards and punishments, to eradicate them. Factions may be divided intd Personal and Real ; that 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 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 di- vides into factions, where there is no difference in the views of the constituent members, either real or apparent, trivial or ma- terial: 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 notwithstand- ing this mixture, a party may be denominated either personal or real, according to that principle which is predominant, and is found to have the greatest influence. OF parties in general, 80 Personal factions arise most easily in small republics. Every domestic quarrel, there, becomes an affair of state. Love, van- ity, emulation, any passion, as well as ambition and resentment, begets public division. The Neri andBiANCHi of Florence, the Fregosi and Adorni of Genoa, the Colonesi, and Orsi- ni 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 Prasini, and Veneti, who never suspended their animosities, till they ruined that unhappy government. We find in the Roman history a remarkable dissention be- tween 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 remarkable, 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 mankind had not a strong propensity to su,ch divisions, the indifference of the rest of the community must have suppressed this foolish animosity, * As this fact has not been much observed by antiquaries or politicians, I shall deliver it in the words of the Roman historian. Populus Tuseu- lanus cum conjugibus ac liberis Romaji venit: Ea multitude, veste mutata, £if specie rcovum tribus circuit, genibus se omnium advolvens. Plus itaque mi- sericordia ad pasntt veniam impetrandam, quam causa ad crimen purgandum valuit. Tribus omnes prxter Polliam, antiquarunt legem. Pollia sententia fuit, puberes verberalos necari, liberos conjugesque sub corona lege belli venire : Memoriamque ejus ir ith the other species above or below it, or to compare the indi- DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 107 viduals of the species among themselves ; so we often compare together the different motives 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 thing in the present question. Were our selfish and vicious principles so much predominant above our social and virtuous, as is asserted by some philosophers, we ought undoubtedly to entertain a contemptible notion of human nature. There is much of a dispute of words in all this controversy. 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 re- ality. But when he proceeds afterwards to reject all private friendship, 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 difference between one man and another, and give no preference to qualities, which engage his approbation and esteem. Is he also, say I, as insensible to an- ger as he pretends to be to friendship? And does injury and wrong no more affect him than kindness or benefits ? Impossi- ble : He does not know himself: He has forgotten the move- ments of his heart; or rather he makes use of a different lan- guage from the rest of his countrymen, and calls not things by their proper names. What say you of natural affection ? (I subjoin) Is that also 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 your 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 alto- gether unactive and insensible: Or, if you ever gave yourself any movement, it would only be from vanity, and a desire of fame and reputation to this same self. I am willing, reply I, to 108 ESSAY XI. receive your interpretation of human actions, provided you ad- mit the facts. That species of self-love, which displays 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, who, having a family, children, and relations, 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 fami- ly 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 the first place, they found, that every act of virtue or friendship was attended with a secret pleasure; whence they concluded, that friendship and virtue could not be disinterested. But the fallacy of this is obvious. The virtuous sentiment or passion produces the pleasure, and does not arise from it. 1 feel a pleasure in doing good to my friend, because 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 applauses of others. But this also is a fallacy. It is very unjust in the world, when they find any tincture of vanity 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 DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 109 sole actuating principle. But vanity is so closely allied to vir- tue, and to love the fame of laudable actions approaches so near the love of laudable actions for their own sake, that these pas- sions are more capable of mixture, than any other kinds of affec- tion ; 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 particu- lar taste or disposition of the mind on which it falls. Nero had the same vanity in driving a chariot, that Trajan had in go- verning the empire with justice and ability. To love tlie glory of virtuous deeds is a sure proof of the love of virtue. ESSAY XII. OF CIVIL LIBERTY. THOSE who employ their pens on political subjects, free from party-rage, and party-prejudices, cultivate a science, which, of all others, contributes most to public 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 vir- tue or vice, human nature is susceptible of; nor what may be expected of mankind from any great revolution in their educa- tion, customs, or principles. Machiavel was certainly a great genius; but having confined his study to the. furious and tyran- nical governments of ancient times, or to the little disorderly principalities of Italy, his reasonings especially upon monarchi- cal government, have been found extremely defective; and there scarcely is any maxim in this prince, which subsequent expe- rience has not entirely refuted. A weak prince, says he, is incapable of receiving good, counsel; for if he consult with seve- ral, he ivillnot 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 measure, from his having 112 ESSAY XII. lived in too early an age of the world, to be a good judge of poli- tical truth. Almost all the princes of Europe are at present governed by their ministers; and have been so for near two cen- turies ; and yet no such event has ever happened, or can possi- bly happen. Sejanus might project dethroning the Cjesars; 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 cen- tury ; and there scarcely is an ancient writer on politics, who has made mention of it. Even the Italians have kept a pro- found 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 achieve- ments 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 com- parison of civil liberty and absolute government and to show the great advantages of the former above the latter; I began to en- tertain a suspicion, that no man in this age was sufficiently quali- fied for such an undertaking; and that whatever any one should advance on that head would, in all probability, be refuted by further experience,-and be rejected by posterity. Such mighty revolutions have happened in human affairs, and so many event * have arisen contrary to the expectation of the ancients, that the? are sufficient to beget the suspicion of still further changes. It had been observed by the ancients, that all the arts and sci ences 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 6uch perfection by the Greeks, amidst continual wars, attended with poverty, and the greatest simpli- city of life and manners. It had also been observed, that, when the Greeks lost their liberty, though they increased mightily in OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 113 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 trans- planted to Rome, the only free nation at that time in the uni- verse; and having met with so favourable a soil, it made prodi- gious shoots for above a century; till the decay of liberty pro- duced also the decay of letters, and spread a total barbarism over the world. From these two experiments, of which each was dou- ble in its kind, and shewed the fall of learning in absolute go- vernments, as well as its rise in popular ones, Longinus thought himself sufficiently justified, in asserting, that the arts and scien- ces 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 confined their view merely to an- cient facts, or entertained too great a partiality in favour of that form of government, established amongst us. But what would these writers have said, to the instances of modern Rome and of Florence ? Of which the former carried to perfection all the finer arts of sculpture, 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 in the arts and sciences, after it began to lose its liberty by the usurpation of the family of Medici. Ariosto, Tasso, Gali leo, more than Raphael, and 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 honours, and seem rather inferior to the other Ita- lians, 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, which scarcely ever * Mr Adpison and Lord Shaftesbury. P 114 ESSAY XII. enjoyed any established liberty, and yet has carried the arts and sciences as near perfection as any other nation. The English are, perhaps, greater philosophers ; the Italians better painters and musicians; the Romans were great orators: But the French are the only people, except the Greeks, who have been at once philosophers, poets, orators, historians, painters, archi- tects, sculptors, and musicians. With 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, perfected that art, the most useful and agreeable of any, VArt de Vivre, the art of society and coversation. If we consider the state of the sciences and polite arts in our own country, Horace's observation, with regard to the Ro- mans, may, in a great measure, be applied to the British. ----Sed in longum tamen aevum Manserunt, hodieque manent vestigia ruris. The elegance and propriety 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, Har- rington, 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 utmost we have to boast of, are a few essays towards a more just philosophy : • Dr. Swift. OF" CIVIL LIBERTY. 115 which, indeed, promise well, but have not, as yet, reached any degree of perfection. 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 fore* going, with regard to the arts and sciences. If we trace com- merce in its progress through Tyre, Athens, Syracuse, Car- thage, Venice, Florence, Genoa, Antwerp, Holland, En- gland, &c. we shall always find it to have fixed its seat in free governments. 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, 1 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 fore- going, 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 uncertain- ty, I would assert, that, notwithstanding the efforts of the French, there is something hurtful to commerce inherent in the very nature of absolute government, and inseparable from it: Though the reason I should assign for this opinion, is some- what different from that which is commonly insisted on. Pri- vate property seems to me almost as secure in a civilized European monarchy, as in a republic; nor is danger much apprehended 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 unusual and extraordi- nary. Avarice, the spur of industry, is so obstinate a passion, and works its way through so many real dangers and difficul- ties, that it is not likely to be scared by an imaginary danger, which is so small, that it scarcely admits of calculation. Com- merce, therefore, in my opinion, is apt to decay in absolute governments, not because it is there less secure, but because it lib ESSAY XII. is less honourable. A subordination of ranks 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 considerable traders will be tempted to throw up their commerce, in order to purchase some of those employments, to which privileges and honours are annexed. Since I am upon this head, of the alterations which time lias produced, or may produce in politics, I must observe that all kinds of government, free and absolute, seem to have undergone, in modern times, a great change for the better, with regard both to foreign and domestic management. The balance of power is a secret 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 century. We are informed by Sallust, that Catiline's army was much augmented by the accession of the highwaymen about Rome ; though I believe, that all of that profession, who are at present dispersed over Eu- rope, 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 Clodius. Had Milo, said he, intended to have killed Clodius, he had not attacked him in the day-time, and at such a distance from the city : He had way-laid him at night, near the suburbs, where it might have been pretended, 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 police of Rome, and of the number and force of these robbers; since Clodius * was at that time attended by thirty slaves, who were completely armed, and suf- ficiently accustomed to blood and danger in the frequent tumults excited by that seditious tribune. But though all kinds of government be improved in modern times, yet monarchical government seems to have made the * Vide Asc. Ped, in Orat. pro Milone. OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 117 greatest advances towards perfection. It may now be affirmed of civilized monarchies, what was formerly said in praise of re- publics alone, that they are a government of Laws, not of Men. They are found susceptible of order, method and constancy, to a surprising degree. Property is there secure: industry encou- raged ; the arts flourish ; and the prince lives secure 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 \ ears 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 amongst the Roman empe- rors. It must, however, be confessed, that though monarchical governments have approached nearer to popular ones, in gentle- ness and stability; they are still inferior. Our modern educa- tion 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 which posterity alone can fully judge of. I am apt to think, that in monarchical governments there is a source of improvement, and in popular governments a source of degene- racy, 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 monarchy, proceed not from the number or weight of the taxes, beyond what are to be met with in free countries; but from the expensive, unequal, arbitrary, and intricate method of levying them, by which the industry of the poor, especially of the peasants and farmers, is, in a great mea- sure, discouraged, and agriculture rendered a beggarly and sla- vish employment. But to whose advantage do these abuses tend ? If to that of the nobility, they might be esteemed inhe- rent in that form of government; since the nobility are the true supports of monarchy ; and it is natural their interest should 118 ESSAY XII. be more consulted, in such a constitution, than that of the peo- ple. But the nobility are, in reality, the chief losers by this op- pression ; since it ruins their estates, and beggars their tenants. 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 min- ister, therefore, should arise, endowed with sufficient discern- ment to know his own and the public interest, and with sufficient force of mind to break through ancient customs, we might expect to see these abuses remedied; in which case, the difference be- tween that absolute government and our free one, would not ap- pear so considerable as at present. The source of degeneracy, which may be remarked in free go- vernments, consists in the practice of contracting debt, and mort- gaging the public revenues, by which taxes may, in time, become altogether intolerable, and all the property of the state be brought into the hands of the public. This practice is of modern date. The Athenians, though governed by a republic, paid near two hundred per Cent, for those sums of money, which any emer- gence 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 contracted debt; but as an absolute prince may make a bank- ruptcy when he pleases, his people can never be oppressed by his debts. In popular governments, the people, and chiefly those who have the highest offices, being commonly the public credi- tors, it is difficult for the state to make use of this remedy, which, however it may sometimes be necessary, is always cruel and barbarous. 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 encrease our frugality of public 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 wish ourselves in the same state of servitude with all the nations that surround us ? ESSAY XIII. OF ELOQUENCE. THOSE, who 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 pro- digious changes in different periods of time. It may, however, be observed, that, in civil history, there is found a much greater uni- formity 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. In- terest and ambition, honour 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 intracta- ble nature, in comparison of the sentiments and understanding, which are easily varied by education and example. The Goths were much more inferior to the Romans, in taste and science, than in coura ge and virtue. But not to compare together nations so widely different; it may be observed, that even this latter period of human learning is, in many respects, of an opposite charac ter to the ancient; and that, if we be superior in philosophy, we are still, notwith- standing all our refinements, much inferior in eloquence. hi 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 120 ESSAY XIII. are requisite for such an undertaking. Greece and Rome pro- duced, each of them, but one accomplished orator ; and what- ever praises the other celebrated speakers might merit, they were still esteemed much inferior to these great models of elo- quence. It is observable, that the ancient critics could scarcely find two orators in any age, who deserved to be placed precise- ly in the same rank, and possessed the same degree of merit. Calvus, Celius, Curio Hortensius, Cssar, rose one above another: But the greatest of that age was inferior to Cicero, the most eloquent speaker, that had ever appeared in Rome. Those of fine taste, however, pronounced this judgment of the Roman orator, as well as of the Grecian, that both of them sur- passed in eloquence all that had ever appeared, 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 conceive. Cicero declares himself dissatisfied with his own performances; nay, even with those of Demos- thenes. Ita sunt avidce Sf capaces mem aures, says he, fy sem- per aliquid immensum, infinitumque desiderant. Of all the polite and learned nations, England alone posses- ses a popular government, or admits into the legislature such numerous assemblies as can be supposed to lie under the domi- nion of eloquence. But what has England to boast of in this particular? In enumerating the great men, who have done honour to our country, we exult in our poets and philosophers; but what orators are ever mentioned ? Or where are the monu- ments of their genius to be met with ? There are found, indeed, in our histories, the names of several, who directed the resolu- tions 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 expe- rience, wisdom, or power, more than to their talents for oratory. At present, tljere are not 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 OF ELOQUENCE. 121 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 eloquence, which they as* pire to, gives no exercise to the sublimer faculties of the mind, but may be reached by ordinary talents and a slight application. 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 in- genious men flocked to Athens from the most remote parts of Greece, as to the most celebrated spectacle of the world.* At London you may see men sauntering in the court of requests, while the most important debate is carrying on in the two houses \ and many do not think themselves sufficiently compensated, for the losing of their dinners, by all the eloquence of our most ce- lebrated speakers. When old CiBBERistoact, the curiosity of several is more excited, than when our prime minister is to de- fend himself from a motion for his removal or impeachment. Even a person, unacquainted with the noble remains of an- cient orators, may judge, from a few strokes, that the stile 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 Apos- trophe, like that noble one of Demosthenes, so much celebrated by Quintilian and Longinus, when justifying the unsuccess- ful battle of Chjeronea he breaks out, No, my Fellow-Citizens, No : You have not erred. I swear by the manes of those he- roes, who fought for the same cause in the plains of Marathon • Ne illud quidem intelligunt, non modo itamemorise proditum esse,sed ita necesse fuisse, cum Demosthenes dicturus esset, ut concursus, au^ diendi causa, extota Grecia fierent. At cum isti Attici dicunt, non modo a corona (quod est ipsum miserable) sed etiam ab advocatis relinquuntur. .Cicebo de Claris Oratoribns. Q 122 ESSAY XIII. and Platoea. 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 indigna- tion at the recital of so enormous an action.* With what a blaze of eloquence must such a sentence be surrounded to give it grace, or cause it to make any impression on the hearers ? And what noble art and sublime talents are requisite to arrive, by just degrees, at a sentiment so bold and excessive : To in- flame 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 artifice, by which all this is effectuated! Should this sentiment even appear to us excessive, as perhaps it justly may, it will at least serve to give an idea of ancient eloquence, where such swelling expres- sions 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 t; though that is now esteemed too violent, either for the senate, bar, or * The original is ; Quod si hac non ad cives Romanos, non ad aliquos amicos nostrac civitatis, non ad eos qui populi Romani nomen audissent; denique, si non ad homines, verum ad bestias; aut etiam, ut longius pro- grediar, si in aliqua desertiffima solitudine, ad saxa & ad scopulos hxc con- queri & deplorare vellem, tam en omnia muta atque inanima, tanta & tam indignarerumatrocitatecommoverentur. Cic. in Ver. f Ubi dolor ? Ubi ardor animi, qui etiam ex infantium ingeniis elicere voces 8t querelas solet ? nulla perturbatio animi, nulla corporis : frons non percussa, non femur; pedis fquod minimum est J nulla supplosio. Itaque OF ELOQUENCE. 123 pulpit, and is only admitted into the theatre, to accompany the most violent passions, which are there represented. One is somewhat at a loss tp what cause we may ascribe so sensible a decline of eloquence in later ages. The genius of mankind, at all times, is, perhaps, equal: The moderns have applied themselves, with great industry and success, to all the other arts and sciences: And a learned nation possesses a popu- lar government; a circumstance which seems requisite for the full display of these noble talents: But notwithstanding all these advantages, our progress in eloquence is very inconsiderable, 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 un- suitable to our age, and ought not to be imitated by modern ora- tors ? Whatever reasons may be made use of to prove this, I am persuaded they will be found, upon examination, to be un- sound and unsatisfactory. First, It may be said, that, in ancient times, during the flou- rishing period of Greek and Rom an learning, the municipal laws, in every state, were but few and simple, and the decision of causes, was, in a great measure, left to the equity and common sense of the judges. The study of the laws was not then a labo- rious occupation, 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 law- yers ; and Cicero, to shew the facility of acquiring this science, declares, that, in the midst of all his occupations, he would un- dertake, in a few days, to make himself a complete civilian. Now, where a pleader addresses himself to the equity of his judges, he has much more room to display his eloquence, than tantum abfuit ut inflammares nostros ammos; somnum isto loco vix tene- bamus. Cicero de Claris Oratoribus. 124 ESSAY XIII. where he must draw his arguments from strict laws, statutes, and precedents. In the former case, many circumstances must be taken in; many personal considerations regarded ; and even favour and inclination, which it belongs to the orator, by his art and eloquence, to conciliate, may be disguised under the ap- pearance of equity. But how shall a modern lawyer have lei- sure to quit his toilsome occupations in order to gather the flow- ers of Parnassus? Or what opportunity shall he have of dis- playing them, amidst the rigid and subtile arguments, objec- tions, and replies, which he is obliged to make use of? The greatest genius, and greatest orator, who should pretend to plead before the Chancellor, after a month's study of the laws, would only labour to make himself ridiculous. I am ready to own, that this circumstance, of the multiplicity and intricacy of laws, is a discouragement to eloquence in mo- dern 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 forbad all allurements of eloquence; and some have pretended that in the Greek orations, written in the judiciary form, there is not so bold and rhetorical a stile, as appears in the Roman. But to what a pitch did the Athenians carry their eloquence in the delibe- rative kind, when affairs of state were canvassed, and the liberty, happiness, and honour 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 natipn. 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 de- bate of deliberation. If a man be accused of murder, the fact must be proved by witnesses and evidence; and the laws will OF ELOQUENCE. 125 afterwards determine the punishment of the criminal. It would be ridiculous to describe, in strong colours, the honor and cruel- ty of the action: To introduce the relations of the dead, and, at a signal, make them throw themselves at the feet of the judges, imploring justice with tears and lamentations : And still more ridiculous would it be, to employ a picture representing 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 pleaders of old*. Now, banish the pathetic from public discourses, and you reduce the speakers merely to modern eloquence; that is, to good sense, delivered in proper expression. Perhaps it maybe 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 elevate the imagination of their au- dience: But, I see no reason, why it should make them despair absolutely of succeeding in that attempt. It should make them redouble their art, not abandon it entirely. The ancient ora- tors seem also to have been on their guard against this jea- lousy of their audience ; but they took a different way of elud- ing it f. 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 artifice. The orator, by the force of his own genius and eloquence, first inflamed him- self with anger, indignation, pity, sorrow; and then communi- cated those impetuous movements to his audience. Does any man pretend to have more good sense than Ji rxus Cjesar? yet that haughty conqueror, we know, was so -.: Led by the charms of Cicero's eloquence, that he was, in a manner, * Qcintil. lib. vi. cap. 1. fLoNGiNUS, cap. 15. 126 ESSAY XIII. constrained to change his settled purpose and resolution, and to absolve a criminal, whom before that orator pleaded, he was de- termined to condemn. Some objections, I own, notwithstanding his vast success. "."" lie against some passages of the Roman orator. He is too iior; 1 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 ariifice even of a pun, rhyme, or jingle of words. The Grecian addressed himself to an audience much less refined than the Roman senate or judges. The lowest vulgar 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 productions, the orations of Demosthenes present to us the models, which approach the nearest to perfec- tion. Thirdly, It may be pretended, that the disorders of the ancient governments, and the enormous crimes, of which the citizens were often guilty, afforded much ampler matter for eloquence than can be met with among the moderns. Were there no Verres or Catiline, 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 them- selves incapable of reaching the heights of ancient eloquence, or rejected all such endeavours, as unsuitable to the spirit of mp- * See note [D. j OF ELOQUENCE. 127 dern assemblies ? A few successful attempts of this nature might rouze the genius of the nation, excite the emulation of the youth, and accustom our ears to a more sublime and more pathetic elo- cution, than what we have been hitherto entertained with. There is certainly something accidental in the first rise and pro- gress of the arts in any nation. I doubt whether a very satis- factory reason can be given, why ancient Rome, though it receiv- ed all its refinements from Greece, could attain only to a relish for statuary, painting and architecture, without reaching the practice of these arts : While modern 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 es- tablished, and popular assemblies to enter into all the most ma- terial points of government; I am persuaded so illustrious an example would have given a quite different turn to British eloquence and made us reach the perfection of the ancient mo- del. Our orators would then have done honour to their country, as well as our poets, geometers', and philosophers, and British Cicero's have appeared as well as British Archimedeses and Virgils. It is seldom or never found, when a false taste in poetry or eloquence prevails among any people, that it has been preferred to a true, upon comparison and reflection. It commonly pre- vails merely from ignorance of the true, and from the want of perfect models, to lead men into a juster apprehension, and more refined relish of those productions of genius. When these appear, they soon unite all suffrages in their favour, and, by their natural and powerful charms, gain over, even the most prejudic- ed, to the love and admiration of them. The principles of every passion, and of every sentiment, is in every man; and when touch- ed properly, they rise, to life, and warm the heart, and convey that satisfaction, by which a work of genius is distinguished from the adulterate duties of a capricious wit and fancy. And if this 128 ESSAY XIII. observation be true, with regard to all the liberal .arts, it must be peculiarly so, with regard to eloquence ; which, being mere- ly calculated for the public, and for men of the world, cannot, with any pretence of reason, appeal from the people to more re- fined judges ; but must submit to the public verdict, without re- serve or limitation. Whoever, upon comparison, is deemed by a common audience the greatest orator, ought most certainly to be pronounced such, by men of science and erudition. And though an indifferent speaker may triumph for a long time, and be esteemed altogether perfect by the vulgar, who are satisfied with his accomplishments, and know not in what he is defective< Yet, whenever the true genius arises, he draws to him the atten- tion of every one, and immediately appears superior to his rival. Now to judge by this rule, ancient eloquence, that is, the sub- lime and passionate, is of a much juster taste than the modern, or the argumentative and rational; and, if properly executed, will always have more command and authority over mankind. We are satisfied with our mediocrity, because we have had no experience of any thing better: But the ancients had experience of both, and, upon comparison, gave the preference to that kind. of which they have left us such applauded models. For, if I mistake not, our modern eloquence is of the same stile or spe- cies with that which ancient critics denominated Attic elo- quence, that is, calm, elegant, and subtle, which instructed the reason more than affected the passions, and never raised its tone above argument or common discourse. Such was the eloquence ofLusiAS among the Athenians, and of Calvus among the Romans. These were esteemed in their time ; but when com- pared with Demosthenes and Cicero, were eclipsed like a taper when set in the rays of a meridian sun. Those lat- ter orators possessed the same elegance, and subtilty, and force of argument, with the former; but what rendered them chiefly admirable, was that pathetic and sublime, which, on pro- per occasions, they threw into their discourse, and by which they commanded the resolution of their audience. OF ELOQUENCE. 129 Of this species of eloquence we have scarcely had any in- stance in England, at least in our public speakers. 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 Bolingrroke's productions, with all their defects in ar- gument, method, and precision, contain a force and energy which our orators scarcely ever aim at; though it is evident, that such an elevated stile has much better grace in a speaker than a writer, and is assured of more prompt and more astonish- ing 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 as- sembly, 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 set speeches ; and a man cannot escape ridi- cule, who repeats a discourse as a school-boy 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 falling into this absurdity? A public speaker must know beforehand the question under debate. 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 invention; nor will the difference be very apparent be- tween his elaborate and his extemporary compositions. The mind naturally continues with the same impetus ox force, 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 stile or aspire * The first of the Athenians, who composed and wrote his speeches was Pericles, a man of business and a man of sense, if ever there was one. R 130 ESSAY XIII. to a rivalship with the ancient; yet is there, in most of their speeches, a material defect, which they might correct, without departing from that composed air of argument and reasoning, to which they limit their ambition. Their great affectation of extem- porary discourses has made them reject all order 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 discourse, unless the subject very evidently offer them: But it is easy, without this formality, to observe a method, and make that method conspicuous to the hearers, 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 strong reasons, which are thrown together in confusion. ESSAY XIV. or the rise and progress of the arts and sciences. NOTHING requires greater nicety, in our enquiries concern- ing human affairs, than to distinguish exactly what is owing to chance, and what proceeds from causes ,* nor is there any sub- ject, in which an author is more liable to deceive himself by false subtilties and refinements. To say, that any event is de- rived from chance, cuts short all farther enquiry concerning it, and leaves the writer in the same state of ignorance with the rest of mankind. But when the event is supposed to proceed from certain and stable causes, he may then display his inge- nuity, in assigning these causes; and as a man of any subtilty can never be at a loss in this particular, he has thereby an oppor- tunity of swelling his volumes, and discovering his profound knowledge, in observing what escapes the vulgar and ignorant, The distinguishing between chance and causes must depend u pon every particular man's sagacity, in considering every par- ticular incident. But, if I were to assign any general rule to help us in applying this distinction, it would be the following, What depends upon a few persons is, in a great measure, to be ascribed to chance, or secret and unknown causes : What arises from a great number, may often be accounted for by determinate and known causes. Two natural reasons may be assigned for this rule. First, If you suppose a dye to have any bias, however small, to a parti- cular side, this bias, though, perhaps, it may not appear In a few throws, will certainly prevail in a great number, and will 132 ESSAY XIV. 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 peculiar to them- selves ; yet the multitude will certainly be seized by the com- mon affection, and be governed by it in all their actions. Secondly, Those principles or causes, which are fitted to ope- rate on a multitude, are always of a grosser and more stub- born nature, less subject to accident and less influenced by whim and private fancy, than those which operate on a few only. The latter are commonly so delicate and refined, that the smallest incident in the health, education, or fortune of a par- ticular person, is sufficient to divert their course, and retard their operation; nor is it possible to reduce them to any general 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 revolu- tions of a state must be a more proper subject of reasoning and observation, than the foreign and the violent, which are common- ly produced by single persons, and are more influenced by whim, folly, or caprice, than by general passions and interests. The depression of the lords, and rise of the commons in England, after the statutes of alienation and the encrease of trade and in- dustry, are more easily accounted 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. Cardinal Richlieu, and Louis XIV. been Spaniards ; and Philip II. III. and IV. and Charles II been Frenchmen, the history of these two nations had been entirely reversed. For the same reason, it is more easy to account for the rise and progress of commerce in any kingdom, than for that of learn- ing ; and a state, which should apply itself to the encouragement THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 133 of the one, would be more assured of success, than one which should cultivate the other. Avarice, or the desre 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 example, 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 com- merce in Holland : But study and application have scarcely produced any eminent writers. We may, therefore, conclude, that there is no subject, 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 what is merely contingent to stable and universal principles. Those who cultivate the sciences in any state, are always few in number : The passion, which go- verns them, 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, which induces me not to ascribe the matter altogether to chance. Though the persons, who cultivate the sciences with such astonishing success, as to attract the ad- miration 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 antecedently diffused throughout the people among whom they arise, in order to produce, form, and cultivate, from their earliest infancy, the taste and judgment of those eminent wri- ters. The mass cannot be altogether insipid, from which such refined spirits are extracted. There is a God within us, says Ovid, who breathes that divine fire, by which we are animat- 134 ESSAY XIV. ed* Poets, in all ages, have advanced this claim to inspira- tion. There is not, however, any thing supernatural in the case. Their fire is not kindled from heaven. It only runs along the earth; is caught from one breast to another ; and burns bright- est, where the materials are best prepared, and most happily disposed. The question, therefore, concerning the rise and progress of the arts and sciences, is not altogether a question concerning tlie taste, genius, and spirit of a few, but concern- ing those of a whole people ; and may, therefore, be accounted for, in some measure, by general causes and principles. I grant, that a man, who should enquire, why such a particular poet, as Homer, for instance, existed, at such a place, in such a time, would throw himself headlong into chimsera, and could never treat of such a subject, without a multitude of false subtilties and refinements. He might as well pretend to give a reason, why such particular generals, as Fahius and Scipio, lived in Rome at such a time, and why Fabius came into the world before Scipio. For such incidents as these, no. other rea- son can be given than that of Horace : Scit genius, natale comes, qui temperat astrum, Naturae Deushumanae, mortalis in unum---- ----Quodque caput, vultu mutabilis, albus & ater But I am persuaded, that in many cases good reasons might be given, why such a nation is more polite and learned, at a par- ticular time, than any of its neighbours. At least, this is so curious a subject, that it were a pity to abandon it entirely, be- fore we have found whether it be susceptible of reasoning, and can be reduced to any general principles. My first observation on this head is, That it is impossible for the arts and sciences to arise, at first, among any people unless that people enjoy the blessing of a free government. * Est Deus in nobis; agitante calescimus illo : Impetus hie, sacrae semina mentis habit. OvA, Fast. lib. i. THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 135 In the first ages of the world, when men are as yet barbarous and ignorant, they seek no farther security against mutual vio- lence and injustice, than the choice of some rulers, few or many, in whom they place an implicit confidence, without providing any security, by laws or political institutions, against the vio- lence and injustice 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, encrease to a great multi- tude, the monarch, finding it impossible, in his own person, to execute every office of sovereignty, in every place, must dele- gate his authority to inferior magistrates, who preserve peace and order in their respective districts. As experience and edu- cation have not yet refined the judgments of men to any consi- derable degree, the prince, who is himself unrestrained, never dreams of restraining his ministers, but delegates his full autho- rity to every one, whom he sets over any portion of the people. All general laws are attended with inconveniencies, when appli- ed to particular cases; and it requires great penetration and experience both to perceive that these inconveniencies are fewer than what result from full discretionary powers in every magis- trate ; and also to discern what general laws are, upon the whole, attended with fewest inconveniencies. This is a mat- ter of so great difficulty, that men may have made some advan- ces, even in the sublime arts of poetry and eloquence, where 9, rapidity of genius and imagination assists their progress, before they have arrived 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 Bashaics, in every province, or even his Cadis in every village. We are told, that the late Czar, though actuated with a noble genius7 and smit with the love and admiration of European arts; yet professed an esteem for the Turkish policy in this particu- lar, and approved of such summary decisions of causes, as are practised in that barbarous monarchy, where the judges are not 136 ESSAY XIV, restrained by any methods, forms, or laws. He did not pei - ceive, how contrary such a practice would have been to all his other endeavours for refining his people. Arbitrary power, in all cases, is somewhat oppressive and debasing; but it is altoge- ther ruinous and intolerable, when contracted into a small com- pass ; and becomes still worse, when the person, who possesses it, knows that the time of his authority is limited and uncertain. Habet subjectos tanquam suos ; viles, ut alienos.* 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 secu- rity. To expect, therefore, that the arts and sciences should take their first rise in a monarchy, is to expect a contradiction. Be- fore these refinements have taken place, the monarch is ignorant and uninstructed ; and not having knowledge sufficient to make him sensible of the necessity of balancing his government upon general laws, he delegates his full power to all inferior magis- trates. This barbarous policy debases the people, and for ever prevents all improvements. Were it possible, that, before science were known in the world, a monarch could possess so much wisdom as to become a legislator, and govern his people by law, not by the arbitrary will of their fellow-subjects, it might be possible for that species of government to be the first nursery of arts and sciences. But that supposition seems scarcely to be consistent or rational. It may happen, that a republic, in its infant state, may be sup- ported by as few laws as a barbarous monarchy, and may en- trust as unlimited an authority to its magistrates or judges. But, * Tacit, hist. fib. i THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 137 besides that the frequent elections by the people, are a conside- rable check upon authority ; it is impossible, but, in time, the ne- cessity of restraining the magistrates, in order to preserve liber- ty, 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 positive statutes, till the people, bearing this yoke with impatience, created the decemvirs, who promul- gated the twelve tables ; a body of laws, which, though, perhaps, they were not equal in bulk to one English act of parliament, were almost the only written rules, which regulated property and punishment, for some ages, in that famous republic. They were, however, sufficient, together with the forms of a free go- vernment, 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 flou- rish : But never can have being amidst such a scene of oppres- sion and slavery, as always results from barbarous monarchies, where the people alone are restrained by the authority of the magistrates, 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 improvements, and keeps men from attaining that knowledge, which is requisite to in- struct them in the advantages, arising from a better police, and more moderate authority. Here then are the advantages of free states. Though a re- public should be barbarous, it necessarily, by an infallible ope- ration, gives rise to Law, even before mankind have made any considerable advances in the other sciences. From law arises se- curity : From security curiosity: And from curiosity knowledge. The latter steps of this progress may be more accidental; but the former are altogether necessary. A republic without laws can never have any duration. On the contrary, in a monarchical government, law arises necessarily from the forms of govern- S 138 ESSAY XIV. ment. Monarchy, when absolute, contains even something re- pugnant to law. Great wisdom and reflection can alone recon- cile them. But such a degree of wisdom can never be expected, before the greater refinements and improvements of human rea- son. These refinements require curiosity, security, and law. The first growth, therefore, of the arts and sciences can never be expected in despotic governments. There are other causes, which discourage the rise of the refin- ed arts in despotic governments; though I take the want of laws, and the delegation of full powers to every petty magistrate, to be tlie principal. Eloquence certainly springs up more natu- rally in popular governments: Emulation too in every accom- plishment 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 nursery for the arts and sciences. The next observation, which I shall make on this head, is, That nothing is more favourable to the rise of politeness and learning, than a number of neighbouring and independent states, connected together by commerce and policy. The emula- tion, which naturally arises among 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 t« power and to authority. Extended governments, where a single person has great influ- ence, soon become absolute; but small ones change naturally into commonwealths. A large government is accustomed by degrees to tyranny; because each act of violence is at first per- formed upon a part, which, being distant'from the majority, is not taken notice of, nor excites any violent ferment. Besides, a large government, though the whole be discontented, 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 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 139 insurrection. Not to mention, that there is a superstitious re* verence 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 weakness- es. And as large states can afford a great expence, in order to support the pomp of majesty; this is a kind of fascination on men, and naturally contributes to the enslaving of them. In a small government, any act of oppression is immediately known throughout the whole: The murmurs and discontents, proceeding from it, are easily communicated: And the indigna- tion arises the higher, because the subjects are not apt to appre- hend in such states, that the distance is very wide between themselves and their sovereign. «No man," said the prince »«of Conde, «is a hero to his Valet de Chambre." It is cer- tain that admiration and acquaintance are altogether incompa- tible towards any mortal creature. Sleep and love convinced even Alexander himself that he was not a God: But I suppose that such as daily attended him could easily, from the number- less weaknesses to which he was subject, have given him many still more convincing proofs of his humanity, But the divisions into small states are favourable to learning, by stopping the progress of authority as well as that of power. Reputation is often as great a fascination upon men as sove- reignty, and is equally destructive to the freedom of thought and examination. But where a number of neighbouring states have a great intercourse of arts and commerce, their mutual jealousy keeps them from receiving too lightly 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 popular 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 prejudices. And no- thing 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 nations into an esteem and admiration of it, 140 ESSAY XIV. Greece was a cluster of little principalities, which soon be- came republics ; and being united both by their near neighbour- hood, and by the ties of the same language and interest, they entered into the closest intercourse of commerce and learning. There concurred a happy climate, a soil not unfertile, and a most harmonious and comprehensive language; so that every circumstance among that people seemed to favour the rise of the arts and sciences. Each city produced its several artists and philosophers, who refused to yield the preference to those of the neighbouring republics: Their contention and debates sharpen- ed the wits of men : A variety of objects was presented to the judgment, while each challenged the preference to the rest j and the sciences, not being dwarfed by the restraint of authority, were enabled to make such considerable shoots, as are, even at this time, the objects of our admiration. After the Roman chris- tian, or catholic church had spread itself over the civilized world, and had engrossed all the learning of the times; being really one large state within itself, and united under one head; this variety of sects immediately disappeared, and the Peripatetic philosophy was alone admitted into all the schools, to the utter depravation of every kind of learning. But mankind having at length thrown off this yoke, affairs are now returned nearly to the same situation as before, and Europe is at present 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 shewed 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 New- ton's theory has undergone, proceeded not from his own coun- trymen, but from foreigners ; and if it can overcome the obsta- cles, which it meets with at present in all parts of Europe, it will probably go down triumphant to the latest posterity. The En- glish are become sensible of the scandalous licentiousness of their stage, from the example of the French decency and morals. The French are convinced, that their theatre has become some- THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 141 what effeminate, by too much love and gallantry ; and begin to approve of the more masculine taste of some neighbouring nations. In China, there seems to be a pretty considerable stock of po- liteness and science, which, in the course of so many centuries, might naturally be expected to ripen into something more per- fect and finished, than what has yet arisen from them. But China is one vast empire, speaking one language, governed by one law, and sympathizing in the same manners. The authority of any teacher, such as Confucius, was propagated easily from one corner of the empire to the other. None had courage to re- sist the torrent of popular opinion. And posterity was not bold enough to dispute what had been universally received by their an- cestors. This seems to be one natural reason, why the sciences have made so slow a progress in that mighty empire*. 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 moun- tains; and Greece of all the countries of Europe. Hence these regions were naturally divided into sevferal distinct go- vernments. And hence the sciences arose in Greece ; and Eu- rope has been hitherto the most constant habitation of them. I have sometimes been inclined to think, that interruptions in the periods of learning, were they not attended with such a de- struction of ancient books, and the records of history, would be rather favourable to the arts and sciences, by breaking the pro- gress of authority, and dethroning the tyrannical usurpers over human reason. In this particular, they have the same influence, as interruptions in political governments and societies. Con- sider the blind submission of the ancient 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 • See note [E.] 142 ESSAY XIV. a servile philosophy. Even the Eclectics, who arose about the age of Augustus, notwithstanding their professing to chuse 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, Pla- tonists and Pythagoricians, could never regain any credit or authority; and, at the same time, by the example 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 this head, of the lise' and progress of the arts and sciences, is, That though the only proper Nursery of these noble plants be a free state; yet may they be transplanted into any government; and that a re- public is most favourable to the growth of the sciences, a civiliz- ed monarchy to that of the polite arts. To balance a large state or society, whether monarchical or republican, on general laws, is a work of so great difficulty, 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 feeling of in- conveniencies must correct the mistakes, which they inevitably fall into, in their first trials and experiments. Hence appears the impossibility, that this undertaking should be begun and carried on in any monarchy ; since such a form of government, ere civilized, knows no other secret or pollicy, than that of en- trusting unlimited powers to every governor or magistrate, and subdividing the people into so_many classes and orders of slave- ry. From such a situation, no improvement can ever be ex- pected in the sciences, in the liberal arts, in laws, and scarcely in the manual arts and manufactures. The same barbarism and THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 143 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 happiness, arises late in any government, and is the slow product of order and of liberty, it is not preserved with the same difficulty with which it is produced ; but when it has once taken root, is a hardy plant, which will scarcely ever perish through the ill cul- ture of men, or the rigour of the seasons. The arts of luxury, 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, when once discovered, can scarcely fall into ob- livion, but by the total subversion of society, and by such furious inundations of barbarous invaders, as obliterate all memory 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 propaga- tion. From these causes proceed civilized monarchies; where the arts of government, first invented in free states, are preserve ed 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 perfection to the republican*; nor is it possible, that a pure despotism, established among a barbarous people, can ever, by its native force and energy, re- finefand polish itself. It must borrow its laws, and methods, and institutions, and consequently its stability and order, from free governments. These advantages are the sole growth of re- publics. 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 improvement!!. 144 ESSAY XIV. In a civilized monarchy, the prince alone is unrestrained in the exercise of his authority, and possesses alone a power, which is not bounded by any thing but custom, example, and the sense of his own interest. Every minister or magistrate, however eminent, must submit to the general laws, which govern the whole society, and must exert the authority delegated to him after the manner, which is prescribed. The people depend on none but their sovereign, for the security of their property. He is so far removed from them, and is so much exempt from pri- vate jealousies or interests, that this dependence is scarcely felt. And thus a species 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 disposal of many honours and ad- vantages which excite the ambition of mankind. The only dif- ference is, that in a republic, the candidates for office must look downwards, to gain the suffrages of the people; in a monarchy, they must turn their attention upwards, to court the good graces and favour of the great. To be successful in the former way, it is necessary for a man to make himself useful, by his industry, capacity, or knowledge: To be prosperous in the latter way, it is requisite for him to render himself agreeable, by his wit, com- plaisance, or civility. A strong genius succeeds best in repub- lics : A refined taste in monarchies. And consequently .the sciences are the more natural growth of the one, and the polite arts of the other. Not to mention, that monarchies, receiving their chief stabi- lity from a superstitious reverence to priests and princes, have commonly abridged the liberty of reasoning, with regard to re- ligion, and politics, and consequently metaphysics and morals. THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 145 All these form the most considerable branches of science. Ma- thematics 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 resign our own inclinations to those of our companion, and to curb and conceal that presumption and arrogance, so natural to the human mind. A good-natured man, who, is well educated, practices this civi- lity 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 to be little practised; since the whole state is, by that means, brought near to a level, and every member of it is rendered, 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 pea- sant, which is not great enough to render property preca- rious, or depress the minds of the people ; but is sufficient to beget in every one an inclination to please his superiors, and to form himself upon those models, which are most acceptable to people of condition and education. 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 civilized in Hol- land*, is an expression for rusticity among the French. The English, in some degree, fall under the same censure, not- * C'st la politesse d'un Suisse En Holiande civilise. Rousseau. T 146 ESSAY XIV. withstanding their learning and genius. And if the Venetians be an exception to the rule, they owe it, perhaps, to their commu- nication with the other Italians, most of whose governments beget a dependence more than sufficient for civilizing their manners. It is difficult to pronounce any judgment concerning the re- finements of the ancient republics in this particular : But I am apt to suspect, that the arts of conversation were not brought so near to perfection among them as the arts of writing and compo- sition. The scurrility of the ancient orators, in many instances, is quite shocking, and exceeds all belief. Vanity too is often not a little offensive in authors of those ages*; as well as the common licentiousness and immodesty of their stile, Quicunque impudicus, adulter, ganeo, manu, ventre, pene, bona patria laceraverat, says SallustIh one of the gravest and most moral passages of his history. Namfuit ante Helenam Cunnus teter- rima belli Causa, is an expression of Horace, in tracing the origin of moral good and evil. Ovid and Lucretius! are al- most as licentious in their stile as Lord Rochester ; though 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. Ju- venal inculcates modesty with great zeal; but sets a very bad example of it, if we consider the impudence of his expressions. *It is needless to cite Ciceiio or Pliny on this head: They are too much noted: But one is a little surprised to find Aruian, a very grave, judicious writer, interrupt the thread of his narration all of a sudden, to tell his readers that he himself is as eminent among the Greeks for elo- quence as Alexander was for arms. Lib. i. f This poet (see lib. iv. 1165.) recommends a very extraordinary cure for love, and what one expects not to meet with in so elegant and philo- sophical a poem. It seems to have been the original of some of Db. Swift's images. The elegant Catuilub and Ph^dhus fall under the same censure THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 147 I shall also be bold to affirm, that among the ancients, there was not much delicacy of breeding, or that polite deference and respect, which civility obliges us either to express or counter- feit towards the persons with whom we converse. Cicero was certainly one of the finest gentlemen of his age: yet I must con- fess I have frequently been shocked with the poor figure under which he represents his friend Attic us, in those dialogues, where he himself is introduced as a speaker. That learned and virtuous Roman, whose dignity, though he was only a private gentleman, was inferior to that of no one in Rome, is there shewn in rather a more pitiful light than Philalethes's friend in our modern dialogues. He is an humble admirer of the orator, pays him frequent compliments, and receives his instructions, with all the deference which a scholar owes to his master*. Even Cato is treated in somewhat of a cavalier manner in the dialogues d efinibus. One of the most particular details of a real dialogue, which we meet with in antiquity, is related by PolvriusI ; when Philip, king of Macedon, a prince of wit and parts, met with Titus Flamininus, one of the politest of the Romans, as we learn from Plutarch|, accompanied with ambassadors from almost all the Greek cities. The jEtolian ambassador very abruptly tells the king, that he talked like a fool or a madman. That's evident, says his majesty, even to a blind maw, 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 Flamini- nus 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 * Att. Non mihi videtur ad beate vivendum satis esse virtutem. Mar. At hercule Bruto meo videtur; cujus ego judicium, pace tua dixerinjj longe antepono tuo. Tusc. Quxst. lib. v. | Lib. xvii. i In vita Flamis. 148 ESSAY XIV. desirous also to shew his wit, as the historian says, tells him, that perhaps the reason, why he had none of his friends ivith him, was because he had murdered them all; which was actually the case. This unprovoked piece of rusticity is not condemned by the historian; caused no farther resentment in Philip, than to excite a Sardonian smile, or what we call a grin; and hin- dered him not from renewing the conference next day. Plu- tarch* too mentions this raillery amongst the witty and agreea- ble sayings of Flamininus. Cardinal Wolset apologized for his famous piece of inso- lence, in saying, Ego et Rex meus, I and my king, by observ- ing, that this expression was conformable to the Latin idiom, and that a Roman always named himself before the person to whom, or of whom he spake. Yet this seems to have been an instance of want of civility 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 iETO- lians, to have been a poet's naming the ^Etolians before the Romans, in celebrating a victory gained by their united arms over the Macedonians f. Thus Livia disgusted Tiherius 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 naturally so ornamen- tal, runs often into affectation and foppery, disguise and insin- cerity; so the ancient simplicity, which is naturally so amiable and affecting, often degenerates into rusticity and abuse, scur- rility and obscenity. If the superiority in politeness should be allowed to modern times, the modern notions of gallantry, the natural produce of • Pict. in vita Flamin. -j- ibid. \ Tacit. Ann. lib. iii. cap. 64 the rise of arts and sciences. 149 courts and monarchies, will probably be assigned as the causes of this refinement. No one denies this invention to be modern*: But some of the more zealous partizans of the ancients, have assert- ed it to be foppish and ridiculous, and a reproach, rather than a credit, to the present agef. It may here be proper to examine this question. Nature has implanted in all living creatures an affection be- tween 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 friendship and mutual sympathy, which runs through the whole tenor of their lives. 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 marriage or association between a single male and female, there is yet a visi- ble complacency and benevolence, which extends farther, and mutually softens the affections 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 derived acci- dentally from some strong charm of love, or arises from reflec- tions on duty and convenience ? Nothing, 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 lauda- ble passions. They only turn the mind more towards it; they refine it; they polish it; and give it a proper grace and expres- sion. But gallantry is as generous as it is natural. To correct 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, * In the Self-Tormentor of Terence, Clinias, whenever he comes to town, instead of waiting on his mistress, sends for her to come to uun. -j- Lord Shaftesburt, see his Moralists. 159 ESSAY XIV. Where that is not attended to, in some degree, no human socie- ty 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 far- ther. Wherever nature has given the mind a propensity to any vice, or to any passion disagreable to others, refined breeding has taught men to throw the bias on the opposite side, and to preserve, in all their behaviour, the-appearance of sentiments different from those to which they naturally incline. Thus, as we are commonly proud and selfish, and apt to assume the pre- ference above others, a polite man learns to behave with defer- ence towards his companions, and to yield the superiority to them in all the common incidents of society. In like manner, wherever a person's situation may naturally beget any disagreea- ble suspicion in him, it is the part of good-manners to prevent it, by a studied display of sentiments, directly contrary to those of which he is apt to be jealous. Thus, old men know their in- firmities, and naturally dread contempt from the youth: Hence, well-educated youth redouble the instances of respect and de- ference 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 com- pany. A man is lord in his own family, and his guests are, in a manner, subject to his authority : Hence, he is always the lowest person in the company ; attentive to the wants of every one; and giving himself all the trouble, in order to please, which may not betrav too visible an affectation, or impose too much constraint on his guests*. Gallantry is nothing but an instance of the same generous attention. As nature has given man the * The frequent mention in ancient authors of that ill-bred custom of the master of the family's eating better bread or drinking better wine at table. than he afforded his guests, is but an indifferent mark of the civility of those ages. See Juvenal, sat. 5. Piinii lib. xiv. cap. 13. Also Plinii Epist. Lucian de mercede conductis, Saturnalia, &c. There is scarcely any part of Europe at present so uncivilized as to admit of such a cus- toon. the rise of arts and sciences. 151 superiority above woman, by endowing him with greater strength both of mind and body ; it is his part to alleviate that superiori- ty, as much as possible, by the generosity of his behaviour, and by a studied deference and complaisance for all her inclinations and opinions. Barbarous nations display this 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, discover their authority in a more generous, though not a less evident manner; by civility, by respect, by complaisance, and, in a word, by gallantry. In good company, you need not ask, Who is the master of the feast ? The man, who sits in the lowest place, and who is al- ways industrious in helping every one, is certainly the person. We must either condemn all such instances of generosity, as foppish and affected, or admit of gallantry among the rest. The ancient Muscovites wedded their wives with a whip, instead of a ring. The same people, in their own houses took always the precedency above foreigners, even * foreign ambassadors. Those two instances of their generosity and politeness are much of a piece. Gallantry is not less compatible with wisdom and prudence, than with nature and generosity ; and when under proper regu- lations, contributes more than any other invention, to the enter- tainment 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 sufficient to gratify the mind ; and even among brute-creatures, we find, that their play and dalliance, and other expressions of fondness, form the greatest part of the entertainment. In rational beings, we must cer- tainly admit the mind for a considerable share. Were we to rob the feast all its garniture of reason, discourse, sympathy, friendship, and gaiety, what remains would scarcely be worth • See Relation of three Embassies, by the Earl of Carlisle. . \52 ESSAY XIV. acceptance, in the judgment of the truly elegant and luxu- rious. What better school for manners, than the company of virtu- ous women; where the mutual endeavour to please must in- sensibly polish the mind, where the example of the female soft- ness and modesty must communicate itself to their admirers, and where the delicacy 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 consi- dered as altogether domestic ; nor were they regarded as part ef the polite world or of good company. This, perhaps, is the true reason why the ancients have not left us one piece of plea- santry that is excellent, (unless 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 considerable improvement, which the po- lite arts have received from gallantry, and from courts, where it first arose. 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 and sciences come to per- fection in any state, from that moment they naturally, or rather necessarily decline, and seldom or never revive in that nation. where they formerly flourished. It must be confessed, that this maxim, though conformable to experience, may, at first sight, 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 cultivate this genius, to be possessed of patterns in THE rise of arts and sciences. 153 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 200 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 and 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 ad- miration still remained for these divine geniuses ; thou«h no poet had appeared for many centuries, 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 many models of eloquence, he naturally compares his own juvenile exercises with these ; and, beingsensibleof 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 ex- cellence. Admiration 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 perfection, which is equally surprising to himself and to his rea- ders. But when the posts of honour are all occupied, his first attempts are but coldly received by the public ; being compared to productions, which are both in themselves more excellent, and U 154 ESSAY XIV. have already the advantage of an established reputation. Were Moliere and Corneille to bring upon the stage at present their early productions, which were formerly so well received, it would discourage the young poets, to see the indifference and disdain of the public. The ignorance of the age alone could have given admission to the Prince of Tyre ; but it is to that we owe the Moor : Had every man in his humour been rejected, we had never seen Volpone. Perhaps, it may not be for the advantage of any nation to have the arts imported from their neighbours in too great per- fection. This extinguishes emulation, and sinks the ardour of the generous youth. So many models of Italian painting brought into England, instead of exciting our artists, is the cause of their small progress 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, dis- persed all over Germany and the North, hinder these na- tions from cultivating their own language, and keep them still dependent on their neighbours for those elegant entertain- ments. It is true, the ancients had left us models in every kind of writing, which are highly worthy of admiration. But besides that they were written in languages, known only to the learn- ed ; besides this, I say, the comparison is not so perfect or en- tire between modern wits, and those who lived in so remote an age. Had Waller been born in Rome, during the reign of Tiherius, his first productions had been despised, when com- pared to the finished odes of Horace. But in this island the superiority of the Roman poet diminished nothing* from the fame of the English. We esteemed ourselves sufficiently hap- py, that our climate and language could produce but a faint copy of so excellent an original. THE RISE OP THE ARTS AND SCIENCES. 155 In short, the arts and sciences, like some plants, require 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 exhaust- ed, produce any thing that is perfect or finished in the kind. ESSAY XV. THE EPICUREAN*. IT is a great mortification to the vanity of man, that his ut- most art and industry can never equal the meanest 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 tou ch 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 productions. 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 divine harmony, which must proceed from her inspiration alone. How poor are those songs, where a happy flow of fancy has not furnished ma- terials for art to embellish and refine! • Or, The man of elegance and pleasure, The intention of this and the three following essays is not so much to explain accurately the sentiments of the ancient sects of philosophy, as to deliver the sentiments of sects, that na- turally form themselves in the world, and entertain different ideas of human life and of happiness. I have given each of them the name of the philoso- phical sect, to which it bears the greatest affinity. 158 ESSAY XV. But of all the fruitless attempts of art, no one is so ridiculous, as that which the severe philosophers have undertaken, the pro- ducing 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 plea- sures 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 presenting it with so new and unusual an object of ridicule. Their speculations, when confined to theory, and gravely deliver- ed in the schools of Greece, might excite admiration in their ignorant pupils: But the attempting 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 of yours. And let her conduct the machine, which she has so wisely fram- ed. I find, that I should only spoil it by my tampering. To what purpose should I pretend to regulate, refine, or invi- gorate any of those springs or principles, which nature has im- planted in me ? Is this the road by which I must reach happi- ness ? But happiness implies ease, contentment, repose and plea- sure ; not watchfulness, care, and fatigue. The health of my body consists in the facility, with which all its operations are performed. The stomach digests the aliments: The heart cir- culates the blood: The brain separates and refines the spirits: And all this without my concerning myself in the matter. When by my will alone I can stop the blood, as it runs with impetuos- ity along its canals, then may I hope to change the course of my sentiments and passions. In vain should I strain my faculties, THE EPICUREAN. 159 and endeavour to receive pleasure from an object, which is not fitted by nature to affect my organs with delight. 1 may give myself pain by my fruitless 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 thoughts, of be- ing satisfied with the consciousness of well-doing, and of despis- ing all assistance and all supplies from external objects. This is the voice of Pride, not of Nature. And it were well, if even this ©ride could support itself, and communicate a real inward pleasure, however melancholy or severe. But this impotent pride can do no more than regulate the outside; and with in- finite pains and attention compose the language and countenance to a philosophical dignity, in order to deceive the ignorant vul- gar. The heart, mean while, 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 what resources is it endow- ed to fill so immense a void, and supply the place'of all thy bodily senses and faculties ? Can thy head subsist without any other members ? In such a situation, What foolish figure must it make f Do nothing else but sleep and ache. Into such a lethargy, or such a melancholy, must thy mind be plunged, when deprived of foreign occupations and enjoyments. Keep me, therefore, no longer in this violent constraint. Con- fine me not within myself; but point out to me those objects and pleasures, which afford the chief enjoyment. But why do I ap- ply to you, proud and ignorant sages, to shew 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. 16u ESSAY XV. But see, propitious to my wishes, the divine, the amiable Pleasure*, the supreme love of GODS and men, advances to- wards me. At her approach, my heart beats with genial heat, and every sense and every faculty is dissolved in joy; while she pours around me all the embellishments of the spring, and all the treasures of the autumn. The melody of her voice charms my ears with the softest music, as she invites me to partake of those delicious fruits, which, with a smile that diffuses a glory on the heavens and the earth, she presents to.me. The sportive Cupids, who attend her, fan me with their odoriferous wings, or pour on my head the most fragrant oils, or offer me their sparkling nectar in golden goblets. 0 ! 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 pleasures, under which you labour, rather hasten than retard the unrelenting pace ? Suffer me to enjoy this soft repose, after all my fatigues in search of happiness. Suffer me to sati- ate 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, in- toxicated all my senses with such delight, now solicits in vain the sated palate. Pleasure smiles at my languor. She beck- ons 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 is flavour. The vapours of this sprightly nectar now again play around my heart; while you partake of my delights, and dis- cover in your cheerful looks, the pleasure which you receive *J)ia Voluptas. Lucrit. THE EPICUREAN. 161 from my happiness and satisfaction. The like do I receive from yours; and, encouraged by your joyous presence, shall again re- new the feast, with which, from too much enjoyment, my senses were well nigh sated; while the mind kept not pace with the body, nor afforded relief to her o'er-burthened partner. In our cheerful discourses, better than in the formal reason- ings of the schools, is true wisdom to be found. In our friend- ly endearments, better than in the hollow debates of statesmen and pretended patriots, does true virtue display itself. Forget- ful of the past, secure of the future, let us here enjoy the pre- sent ; and while we yet possess a being, let us fix some good, beyond the power of fate or fortune. To-morrow will bring its own pleasures along with it: Or should it disappoint our fond wishes, we shall at least enjoy the pleasure of reflecting on the pleasures of to-day. Fear not, my friends, that the barbarous dissonance of Bac- chus, and of his revellers, should break in upon this entertain- ment, and confound us with their turbulent and clamorous plea- sures. The sprightly muses wait around ; and with their charm- ing symphony, sufficient to soften the wolves and tygers of the savage desert, 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 * An imitation of the Syrens song in Tasso. "O Giovinetti, mentre Aprile & Maggio V ammantan di fiorite & verde spoglie," &c Giuresalemme liberata, Canto 14. X 162 ESSAY XV. •• the wanton spring pours upon you all her blooming honours, " let not "-lory 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 pleasure : 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 inva- " luable a present, to trifle with so perishing a blessing. Con- " template well your recompence. Consider that glory, which " so allures your proud hearts, and seduces you with your own " praises. It is an echo, a dream, nay the shadow of a dream, " dissipated by every 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- " gleets it; nature enjoys it not; fancy alone, renouncing every " pleasure receives this airy recompence, empty and unstable " as herself." Thus the hours pass unperceived along, and lead in their wan- ton train all the pleasures of sense, and all the joys of harmony and friendship. Smiling innocence 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 transporting, after, they have past us, as when, with laughing countenances, they were yet advancing towards us. But the sun has sunk below the horizon ; and darkness, steal- ing silently upon us, has now buried all nature in an universal shade. " Rejoice, my friends, continue your repast, or change " it for soft repose. Though absent, your joy or your tranquil- " lity shall still be mine." But whither do you go? Or what new pleasures call you from our society ? Is there aught agree- able without your friends ? And can aught please, in which we partake not? " Yes, my friends; the joy which I now seek. THE EPICUREAN. 163 ;i admits not of your participation. Here alone I wish your ab- " sence: And here alone can I find a sufficient compensation •4 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 Cslia, the mistress of my wishes, who wanders impatient through the grove, and preventing the appointed hour, silently chides my tardy steps. But the joy, which she receives from my presence, best pleads my excuse; and dissipating every anxious and every angry thought, leaves room for naught but mutual joy and rapture. With what words, my fair one, shall I express my tenderness, or describe the emotions which now warm my transported bo- som ! Words are too faint to describe my love; and if, alas! you feel not the same flame within you, in vain shall I endeavour 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 enflame mine. How amia- ble this solitude, this silence, this darkness! No objects now importune the ravished soul. The thought, the sense, all full of nothing 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, How long my love shall yet endure? Alas, my Cjelia, can I resolve this question ? Do I know how long 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 ESSAY XV, 164 no more. We shall be, as if we had never been. Not a memory of us be left upon earth; and even the fabulous shades below will not afford us a habitation. Our fruitless ?nxi^ties, our vain projects, our uncertain speculations shall all be swallowed up and lost. Our present 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 un- bounded 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 amorous caresses. ESSAY XVI. THE stoic*. THERE is this obvious and material difference in the con- duct of nature, with regard to man and other animals, 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 employ, on every emergence, his utmost art and industry. Brute-creatures have many of their necessities supplied by nature, being clothed and armed by this benefi- cient parent of all things: And where their own industry is requisite on any occasion, nature, by implanting instincts, still supplies them with the art, and guides them to their good, by her unerring precepts. But man, exposed naked and indi- gent to the rude elements, 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 subsist- ing, 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 unfinished, till industry, ever active and intelli- gent, refines them from their brute state, and fits them for human use and convenience. Acknowledge, therefore, 0 man, the beneficence of nature ; for she has given thee that intelligence which supplies all thy neces- sities. But let not indolence, under the false appearance of gratitude, persuade thee to rest contented with her presents. Wouldst thou return to the raw herbage for thy food, to the • Or the man cf action and virtue 166 ESSAY XVI. 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 timorous superstition, to thy brutal ignorance: and sink thyself below those animals, whose condition thou adinirest, and wouldstso fondly imitate. Thy kind parent, nature, having given thee art and intelli- gence, has filled the whole globe with materials, to employ these talents: Hearken to her voice, which so plainly tells thee, that thou thyself shouldst also be the object of thy industry, and that by art and attention alone thou canst acquire that ability, which will raise thee to thy proper station in the universe. Behold this artizan, who converts a rude and shapeless stone into a no- ble metal; and moulding that metal by his cunning hands, cre- ates, as it were by magic, every weapon for his defence, and every utensil for his convenience. 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 while thou ambitiously aspirest to perfecting thy bodily powers and faculties,* wouldst thou meanly neglect thy mind, and from a preposterous sloth, leave it still rude and uncultivat- ed, as it came from the hands of nature ? Far be such folly and negligence from every rational^being. If nature has been frugal in her gifts and endowments, there is the more need of art to sup- ply her defects. If she has been generous and liberal, know that she still expects industry and application 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 owner, the most abundant crop of poisons. The great end of all human industry, is the attainment of hap- piness. For this were arts invented, sciences cultivated, laws ordained, and societies modelled, by the most profound wisdom the stoic. 167 of patriots and legislators. 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 being. 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 inferior 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 pas- sions, and has learned, from reason, to seta just value on every pursuit and enjoyment. For is there an art and apprenticeship necessary for every other attainment ? And is there no art of life, no rule, no precepts to direct us in this principal concern ? Can no particular pleasure be attained without skill; and can the whole be regulated without reflection or intelligence, by the blind guidance of appetite and instinct ? Surely then no mistakes are ever committed in this affair; but every man, however dis- solute and negligent, proceeds in the pursuit of happiness, 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 coin- .mitted, let us register these mistakes; let us consider their cau- ses ; let us weigh their importance; let us enquire for their reme- dies. When from this we have fixed all the rules of conduct, we are philosophers: When we have reduced 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 re- sult of their conspiring order. While thou hast such an alluring object in view, shall that la- bour and attention, requisite to the attainment of thy end, ever 168 ESSAY XIV. seem burdensome and intolerable ? Know, that this labour itself is the chief ingredient of the felicity to which thou aspirest, and that every enjoyment soon becomes insipid and distasteful, when not acquired by fatigue and industry. See the hardy hun- ters 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 de- licious fare, and which offer themselves to the fatal stroke. La- borious man disdains so easy a purchase. He seeks for a prey, which hides itself from his search, or flies from his pursuit, or defends itself from his violence. Having exerted in the chace every passion of mind, and every member of the body, he then finds the charms of repose, and with joy compares its pleasures to those of his engaging labours. And can vigorous industry give pleasure to the pursuit even of the most worthless prey, which frequently escapes our toils ? And cannot the same industry render the cultivating of our mind, the moderating 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 countenance bright- ening incessantly with new charms ? Begin 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 perceive 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 de you hope for enjoyment from the most delicious wines and fruits. Your indolence itself becomes a fatigue : Your plea- sure itself creates disgust. The mind, unexercised, finds eve- ry delight insipid and loathsome ; and ere yet the body, full THE stoig. 169 of noxious humours, feels the tormenfof its multiplied dis- eases, 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 fortune and accidents, and rivet your affections on external objects, which chance may, in a mo- ment, ravish from you. I shall suppose, that your indulgent stars favour you still with the enjoyment of your riches and pos- sessions. 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 consideration not to be overlooked or neglected. Happiness cannot possibly exist, where there is no security ; and security can have no place, where fortune has any dominion. 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 rolling thunder breaks below; and those more terrible in- struments of human fury reach not to so sublime a height. The sage, while he breathes that serene air, looks down with plea- sure, mixed with compassion, on the errors of mistaken mortals, who blindly seek for the true path of life, and pursue riches, no- bility, honour, or power, for genuine felicity. The greater part he beholds disappointed 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 complain, that even their own vows, though granted, cannot give them happiness, or relieve the anxiety of their distracted minds. Y 170 ESSAY XVI. But does the sage always preserve himself in this philosophi cal indifference, and rest contented with lamenting the miseries of mankind, without ever employing himself for their relief? Does he constantly indulge this severe wisdom, which, by pre- tending to elevate him above human accidents, does in reality harden his heart, and render him careless of the interests of man- kind, and of society ? No ; he knows that in this sullen Apathy, neither true wisdom nor true happiness 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 succour, can only relieve them by compassion; he yet rejoices in the generous disposition, and feels a satisfaction superior to that of the most indulged sense. So engaging are the sentiments of hu- manity, that they brighten up the very face of sorrow, and ope- rate 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 nei- ther can sensual pleasure obscure them. The joys of love, however tumultuous, banish not the tender sentiments of sym- . pathy and affection. They even derive their chief influence from that generous passion ; and, when presented alone, afford noth- ing to the unhappy mind but lassitude and disgust. Behold this sprightly debauchee, who professes a contempt of all other plea- sures but those of wine and jollity : Separate him from his com- panions, like a spark from a fire, where before it contributed to the general blaze: His alacrity suddenly extinguishes; and, though surrounded with every other means of delight, he loathes the sumptuous banquet, and prefers even the most abstracted study and speculation, as more agreeable and entertaining. THE STOIC in But the social passions never afford such transporting plea- sures, or make so glorious an appearance in the eyes both of GOD and man, as when, shaking off every earthly mixture, they asso- ciate themselves with the sentiments of virtue, and prompt us to laudable and worthy actions. As harmonious colours mutu- ally give and receive a lustre by their friendly union; so do these ennobling sentiments of the human mind. Seethe triumph of nature in parental affection ! What selfish passion; what sensual delight is a match for it ! Whether a man exults in the prosperity and virtue of his offspring, or flies to their suc- cour, through the most threatening 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 dis- tressed, in comforting the afflicted, in raising the fallen, and in stopping 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 vir- tuous example or wise exhortation, our fellow-creatures are taught to govern their passions, reform their vices, and subdue their worst enemies, which inhabit within their own bosoms ? But these objects are still too limited for the human mind, which, being of celestial origin, swells with the divinestand most enlarged affections, and carrying its attention beyond kindred and acquaintance, extends its benevolent wishes to the most dis- tant posterity. It views liberty and laws as the source of hu- man happiness, and devotes itself, with the utmost alacrity, to their guardianship and protection. Toils, dangers, death itself, carry their charms, when we brave them for the public good, and ennoble that being, which we generously sacrifice for the inter- ests of our country. Happy the man, whom indulgent fortune allows to pay to virtue what he owes to nature, and to make a 172 ESSAY XVI. generous gift of what must otherwise be ravished from him by cruel necessity ! In the true sage and patriot are united whatever can distin- guish human nature, or elevate mortal man to a resemblance with the divinity. The softest benevolence, the most undaunted re- solution, the tenderest sentiments, the most sublime love of vir- tue, all these animate successively his transported bosom. What Satisfaction, when he looks within, to find the most turbulent pas- sions tuned to just harmony and concord, and every jarring sound banished from this enchanting music ! If the contempla- tion, even of inanimate beauty, is so delightful ; 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 embellishes our own mind, and is the result of our own reflection and industry ? But where is the reward of virtue ? And what recompence has nature provided for such important sacrifices, as those of life and fortune, which we must often make to it ? Oh, sons of earth! Are ye ignorant of the value of this celestial mistress ? And do ye meanly enquire 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 and unendowed. She has provided virtue with the richest dowry; but being careful, lest the allurements of interest should engage such suitors, as were insensible of the native worth of so divine a beau- ty 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 thought- ful head of the disinterested patriot, or the dusty brow of the victorious warrior. Elevated by so sublime a prize, the man of virtue looks down with contempt on all the allurements of plea- sure, and all the menaces of danger. Death itself loses its ter- rors, when he considers, that its dominion extends only over a THE STOIC. 175 part of him, and that, in spite of death and time, the rage of the elements, and the endless vicissitudes 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 universe; and who, with infinite wisdom and power, has reduced the jarring elements into just order and proportion. Let speculative reasoners dispute, how far this 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 triumphant. The man of morals, without deciding any thing on so dubious a subject, is satisfied with the portion, 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 thinks not virtue an empty name ; but justly esteeming it its own reward, he great- fully acknowledges the bounty of his creator, who, by calling him int.* existence, has thereby afforded him an opportunity of once acquiring so invaluable a possession. ESSAY XVII. THE PLATONIST*. TO some philosophers it appears matter of surprize, that all mankind, possessing the same nature, and being 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 surprize, 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 irresolution, 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 tranquillity or satisfaction, while detained in the ignoble pursuits of sensual pleasure or popular applause. The divinity is a boundless ocean of bliss and glory: Human minds are small- er streams, which, arising at first from this ocean, seek still, amid all their wanderings, to return to it, and to lose themselves in that immensity of perfection. When checked in this natural course, by vice or folly, they become furious and enraged; and, swelling to a,torrent, do then spread horror and devastation on the neighbouring plains. In vain, by pompous phrase and passionate expression, each recommends his own pursuit, and invites the credulous hearers to an imitation of his life and manners. The heart belies the countenance, and sensibly feels, even amid the highest success, ♦Or, the man of contemplation and philosophical devotion. 176 ESSAY XVII. the unsatisfactory nature of all those pleasures, which detain it from its true object. I examine the voluptuous man before enjoy- ment; I measure the vehemence of his desire, and the impor- tance of his object; I find that all his happiness 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 fond- ly sought after. The sense of his guilt and misery returns upon him with double anguish: His mind tormented with fear and re- morse } his body depressed with disgust and satiety. But a more august, at least a more haughty personage, pre- sents himself boldly to our censure ; and assuming the title of a philosopher and man of morals, offers to submit to the most rigid examination. He challenges, with a visible, though con- cealed impatience, our approbation and applause; and seems of- fended, 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 vir- tue : But behold ! ere I can enter upon this enquiry, he flings himself from me; and addressing his discourse to that crowd of heedless auditors, fondly abuses them by his magnificent pre- tensions. O philosopher! thy wisdom is vain, and thy virtue unprofita- ble. 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, pene- trates the universe. Thou surely art conscious of the hollow - ness of thy pretended probity, whilst calling thyself a citizen, a son, a friend, thou forgettest thy higher sovereign, thy true fa- ther, thy greatest benefactor. Where is the adoration due to in- finite perfection, whence every thing good and valuable is de- rived ? Where is the gratitude, owing to thy creator, who called thee forth from nothing, who placed thee in all these relations to thy fellow-creatures, and requiring thee to fulfil the duty of THE PLATONIST. 177 each relation, forbids thee to neglect what thou owest to himself, the most perfect being, to whom thou art connected by the clos- est tye ? But thou art thyself thy own idol: Thou worshipest thy ima- ginary perfections : Or rather, sensible of thy real imperfec- tions, thou seekest only to deceive the world, and to please thy fancy, by multiplying thy ignorant admirers. Thus, not con- tent with neglecting what is most excellent in the universe, thou desirest to substitute in his place what is most vile and contemptible. Consider all the works of mens hands; all the inventions of human wit, in which thou affectest 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 ad- mire, while we bestow our applause on the graces of a well-pro- portioned statue, or the symmetry of a noble pile. The statua- ry, the architect comes still in view, and makes us reflect on the beauty of his art and contrivance, which, from a heap of unform- ed matter, could extract such expressions and proportions. This superior beauty of thought and intelligence thou thyself acknow- ledgest, while thou invitest us to contemplate, in thy conduct, the harmony of affections, the dignity of sentiments, and all those graces of a mind, which chiefly merit our attention. But why stoppest thou short ? Seest thou nothing farther that is val- uable ? Amid thy rapturous applauses of beauty and order, art thou still ignorant where is to be found the most consumate beau- ty ? the most perfect order ? Compare the works of art with those of nature. The one are but imitations of the other. The near- er art approaches to nature, the more perfect is it esteemed. But still, how wide are its nearest approaches, and what an im- mense interval may be observed between them ? Art copies on- ly the outside of nature, leaving the inward and more admirable springs and principles; as exceeding her imitation; as beyond her comprehension. Art copies only the minute productions of Z 178 ESSAY XVII. nature, despairing to reach that grandeur and magnificence, 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 stupendous contrivance of the universe ? Can we be so stupid as not to feel the warmest raptures of worship and adoration, upon the contemplation of that intelligent being, so infinitely good and wise ? The most perfect happiness, surely, must arise from the con- templation of the most perfect object. But what more perfect than beauty and virtue ? And where is beauty to be found equal to that of the universe ? Or virtue, which can be compared to the benevolence and justice of the Deity ? If aught can diminish the pleasure of this contemplation, it must be either the narrow. ness 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 as- signed 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. ESSAY XVIII. THE SCEPTIC. I HAVE long entertained a suspicion, with regard to the de- cisions 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 accounts for many natural effects, he extends the same principle over the whole creation, and reduces to it every phenomenon, though by the most vior lent and absurd reasoning. Our own mind being narrow and contracted, we cannot extend our conception to the variety and extent of nature ; but imagine, that she is as much bounded in her operations, as we are in our speculation. But if ever this infirmity of philosophers is to be suspected on any occasion, it is in their reasonings concerning human life, and the methods of attaining happiness. In that case, they are led astray, not only by the narrowness of their understandings, but by that also of their passions, Almost every one has a pre- dominant inclination, to which his other desires and affections submit, and which governs him, though, perhaps, with some in- tervals, through the whole course of his life. It is difficult for him to apprehend, that any tiling, which appears totally indif- ferent 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: 180 ESSAY XVIII. The objects of his passion, the most valuable : And the road, which he pursues, the only one that leads to happiness. But would these prejudiced reasoners reflect a moment, there are many obvious instances and arguments, sufficient to unde- ceive them, and make them enlarge their maxims and princi- ples. Do they not see the vast variety of inclinations and pur- suits 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 inclination ; and that it is not in their power, by their utmost efforts, to recall that taste or appe- tite, which formly bestowed charms on what now appears indif- ferent or disagreeable ? What is the meaning therefore of those general preferences of the town or country life, of a life of ac- tion or one of pleasure, of retirement or society ; when besides the different inclinations of different men, every one's experi- ence may convince him, that each of these kinds of life is agree- able in its turn, and that their variety or their judicious mixture chiefly contributes to the rendering all of them agreeable. But shall this business be allowed to go altogether at adven- tures ? And must a man consult only his humour and inclination, in order to determine his course of life, 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 conduct and another ? I answer, there is a great difference. One man, followin* his inclination, in chusing his course of life, may employ much surer means for succeeding than another, who is led by his incli- nation into the same course of life, and pursues the same object. Are riches the chief object of your desires? Acquire skill in your profession : be diligent in the exercise of it; enlarge the circle of your friends and acquaintance ; avoid pleasure and expence j THE SCEPTIC. 181 and never be generous, but with-a view of gaining more than you could save by frugality. Would 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 opi- nion which you seem to entertain of yourself. 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 cunning man, to learn something by magic or witchcraft, beyond what can be known by common prudence and discretion ?------Yes ; we come to a philosopher to be in- structed, how we shall chuse our ends, more than the means for attaining these ends : We want to know what desire we shall gratify, what passion we shall comply with, what appetite we shall indulge. As to the rest, we trust to common sense, and the general maxims of the world for our instruction. I am sorry then, I have pretended to be a philosopher: 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 scho- lastic ; if it be too easy and free, of being taken for a preacher of vice and immorality. However, to satisfy you, I shall deliver my opinion upon the matter, and shall only desire you to es- teem it of as little consequence as I do myself. By that means you will neither think it worthy of your ridicule nor your anger. If we can depend upon any principle, which we learn from philosophy, this I think, may be considered as certain and un- doubted, that there is nothing, in itself, valuable or despicable, desirable or hateful, beautiful or deformed ; but that these attri- 182 ESSAY XVIII. butes 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 observation holds even where the mind concurs with the body, and mingles its sentiment with the exterior ap- petite. Desire this passionate lover to give you a character of his mis- tress : He will tell you, that he is at a loss for words to des- cribe 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 is impossible for you to form a conception of such divine beauties as those which his charmer possesses ; so complete a shape ; such well-proportion- ed 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 between the sexes, which nature has infus- ed into all animals, is in him determined to a particular object by some qualities, which give him pleasure. The same divine creature, not only to a different animal, but also to a different man, appears a mere mortal being, and is beheld with the ut- must indifference. Nature has given all animals alike prejudice in favour of their offspring. As soon as the helpless infant sees the light, though in every other eye it appears a despicable and a miserable crea- ture, it is regarded by its fond parent with the utmost affection, and is preferred to every other object, however perfect and ac- complished. The passion alone, arising from the original struc- ture and formation of human nature, bestows a value on the most insignificant object. THE SCEPTIC. 183 We may push the same observation further, and may conclude, that, even when the mind operates alone, and feeling the senti- ment of blame or approbation, pronounces one object deformed and odious, another beautiful and amiable; I say, that even in this case, those qualities are not really in the objects, but be- long entirely to the sentiment of that mind which blames or praises. I grant, that it will be more difficult to make this pro- position evident, and as it were, palpable, to negligent thinkers; because nature is more uniform in the sentiments of the mind than in most feelings of the body, and produces a nearer resem- blance in the inward than in the outward part of human kind. There is something approaching to principles in mental taste j 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 educa- tion, custom, prejudice, 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 follow its intricacies, that a Scotch 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 parti- cular taste will always appear 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 agreea- ble 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, na- ture has, perhaps, intended to make us sensible of her autho- rity, and let us see what surprising changes she could produce on the passions and desires of mankind, merely by the change of their inward fabric, without any alteration on the objects. The. 184 ESSAY XVIII. vulgar may even be convinced by this argument: But men, ac- customed to thinking, may draw a more convincing, 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 diminishing any thing from them. If I examine tlie Ptolomaic and Copernican systems, I endea- vour only, by my enquiries, 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 towards each other in the heavens. To this operation of the mind, therefore, there^eemstobe always a real, though often an unknown stand- ard, in the nature of things ; nor is truth or falsehood variable by the various apprehensions of mankind. Though all the 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 conclusions are eternally false and erroneous. But the case is not the same with the qualities of beautiful 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 senti- ment of delight or uneasiness, approbation or blame, consequent to that survey ; and this sentiment determines it to affix the epithet beautiful or deformed, desirable or odious. Now, it is evident, that this sentiment must depend upon the particular fa- bric or structure of the mind, which enables such particular forms to operate in such a-particular manner, and produces a sympathy or conformity between the mind and its objects. Vary the struc- ture of the mind or inward organs, the sentiment no longer fol- lows, though the form remains the same. The sentiment bein»; different from the object, and arising from its operation upon the organs of the mind, an alteration upon the latter must vary the effect, nor can the same object, presented to a mind totally dif- ferent, produce the same sentiment. THE SCEPTIC. 185 This conclusion every one is apt to draw of himself, without much philosophy, where the sentiment is evidently distinguish- able from the object. Who is not sensible, that power, and glo- ry, 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 ob- ject, not in the sentiment; and that merely because the senti- ment is not so turbulent and violent as to distinguish itself, in an evident manner, from the perception of the object. But a little reflection suffices to distinguish 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 explained every quality of the circle, but has not, in any proposition, said a word of its beauty. The reason ii 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 only the effect, which that figure produ- ces upon a mind, whose particular fabric or structure renders it susceptible of such sentiments. In vain would you look for it in the circle, or seek it, either by your senses, or by mathematical reasonings, in all the properties of that figure. The mathematician, who took no other pleasure in reading Virgil, but that of examining Eneas'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 the whole narration. He would even have a more distinct idea of it, than they could attain who had not stu- died so exactly the geography of the poem : He knew, there- fore, every thing in the poem: But he was ignorant of its beauty ; because the beauty, properly speaking, lies not in the poem, but in the sentiment or taste of the reader. And A 2 186 ESSAY XVIII. 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 pursues, that we can determine his enjoyment, but merely from the passion with which he pursues it, and the success which he meets with in his pur- suit. Objects have absolutely no worth or value in themselves. They derive their worth merely from the passion. If that b« strong, and steady, and successful, the person is happy. It can- not reasonably be doubted, but a little miss, dressed in a new gown for a dancing-school ball, receives as complete enjoyment as the greatest orator, who triumphs in the splendor of his elo- quence, while he governs the passions and resolutions of a numer- ous assembly. All the difference, therefore, between one man and another, with regard to life, consists either in the passion, or in the en- joyment : And these differences are sufficient to produce the wide extremes of happiness and misery. To be happy, the passion must neither be too violent 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 agree- able to the feeling, as those of the former. Who will compare rancour and animosity, envy and revenge, to friendship, benig- nity, 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. ♦ See note [F.] the sceptic. 187 Some passions or inclinations, in the enjoyment of their object, are not so steady or constant as others, nor convey such dura- ble pleasure and satisfaction. Philosophical devotion, for in- stance, like the enthusiasm of a poet, is the transitory effect of high spirits, great leisure, a fine genius, and a habit of study and contemplation: But notwithstanding all these circumstances, an abstract invisible object, like that which natural religion alone presents to us, cannot long actuate the mind, or be of any mo- ment in life. To render the passion of continuance, we must find some method of affecting the senses and imagination, and must embrace some historical, as well as philosophical account of the 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 safe- ly pronounce in general, that a life of pleasure cannot support itself so long as one of business, but is much more subject to sa- tiety and disgust. The amusements, which are the most dura- ble, have all a mixture of application and attention in them j such as gaming and hunting. And in general, business and ac- tion 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 respect, the passions, which pursue external objects, contribute not so much to happi- ness, as those which rest in ourselves; since we are neither so certain of attaining such objects, nor so secure in possessing them. A passion for learning is preferable, with regard to happiness, to one for riches. Some men are possessed of great strength of mind; and even when they pursue external objects, are not much affected by a disappointment, but renew their application and industry with the greatest cheerfulness. Nothing contributes more to happi- ness than such a turn of mind. 188 ESSAY XVIII. According to this short and imperfect sketch of human life, the happiest disposition of mind is the virtuous; 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 dispositions of mind are not alike fa- vourable to happiness, and that one passion or humour may be extremely desirable, 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 human 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 depend* on our choice, than that of our body. The generality of men have not even the smallest notion, that any alteration in this respect can ever be desirable. 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 excluded from all pretensions to philosophy, and the medicine of the mind, so much boasted. But even upon the wise and thoughtful, nature has a prodigious influence; 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 philoso- phy extends over a few; and with regard to these too, her au- thority 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. THE SCEPTIC. 189 Whoever considers, without prejudice, the course of human actions, will find, that mankind are almost entirely guided by constitution and temper, and that general maxims have little in- fluence, but so far as they affect our taste or sentiment. If a man have a lively sense of honour and virtue, with moderate pas- sions, his conduct will always be conformable to the rules of morality; or if he depart from them, his return will be easy and expeditious. On the other hand, where one is born of so per- verse a frame of mind, of so callous 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 sen- sual objects, or from the indulgence of malignant passions : He feels no remorse to controul his vicious inclinations : He has not even that sense or taste, which is requisite to make him desire abetter character: For my part, I know not how I should ad- dress myself to such a one, or by what arguments I should en- deavour to reform him. Should I tell him of the inward satis- faction which results from laudable and humane actions, the de- licate pleasure of disinterested Jove and friendship, the lasting enjoyments 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 disposition. I must repeat it; my philosophy affords no remedy in such a case, nor could I do any thing but lament this person's unhappy condition. But then 1 ask, if any other philosophy can afford a remedy; or if it be pos- sible, by any system, to render all mankind virtuous, however perverse may be their natural frame of mind ? Experience will soon convince us of the contrary; and I will venture to affirm, that, perhaps, the chief benefit, which results from philosophy, arises in an indirect manner, and proceeds more from its secret, insensible influence, than from its immediate application. It is certain, that a serious attention to the sciences and libe- ral arts softens and humanizes the temper, and cherishes those 190 ESSAY XVIII. fine emotions, in which true virtue and honour consists. It rare- ly, 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 decencies 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 encreased, by speculation. Besides such insensible changes upon the temper and disposi- tion, it is highly probable, that others may be produced by study and application. The prodigious effects of education may con- vince us, that the mind is not altogether stubborn and inflexible, but will admit of many alterations from its original make and structure. Let a man propose to himself the model of a charac- ter, which he approves: Let him be well acquainted with those particulars, in which his own character deviates from this model: Let him keep a constant watch over himself, and bend his mind, by a continual 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 inclinations. A man, who continues in a course of sobriety and temperance, will hate riot and disorder: If he engage in business or study, indolence will seem a punishment to him: If he constrain himself to prac- tice beneficence and affability, he will soon abhor all instances of pride and violence. Where one is thoroughly convinced that the virtuous course of life is preferable; if he have but resolution enough, for some time, to impose a violence on himself; his re- formation needs not be despaired of. The misfortune is, that this conviction and this resolution never can have place, unless a man be, before-hand? tolerably virtupus. THE SCEPTIC, 191 Here then is the chief triumph of art and philosophy: It in- sensibly refines the temper, and it points out to us those dispo- sitions which we should endeavour to attain, by a constant bent of mind, and by repeated habit. Beyond this I cannot acknow- ledge it to have great influence ; and I must entertain doubts concerning 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 despicable ; but that objects ac- quire these qualities from the particular character and constitu- tion of the mind, which surveys them. To diminish therefore, or augment any person's value for an object, to excite or mo- derate his passions, there are no direct arguments or reasons, which can be employed with any force or influence. The catch- ing of flies, like Domitian, if it give more pleasure, is prefera- ble to the hunting of wild beasts, like William Rufus, or con- quering of kingdoms, like Alexander. But though the value of every object can be determined only by the sentiment or passion of every individual, we may ob- serve, that the passion, in pronouncing verdict, considers not tlie object simply, as it is in itself, but surveys it with all the circumstances, which attend it. A man transported with joy, on account of his possessing a diamond, confines not his view to the glistering stone before him : He also considers, its rarity, and thence chiefly arises his pleasure and exultation. Here therefore a philosopher may step in, and suggest particular views, and considerations, and circumstances, which otherwise would have escaped us; and, by that means, he may either mo- derate or excite any particular passion. It may seem unreasonable absolutely to deny the authority of philosophy in this respect: But it must be confessed, that tfiere lies this strong presumption against it, that, if these views be natural and obvious, they would have occurred of themselves, 192 ESSAY XVIII. without the assistance of philosophy; if they be not natural, thev 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 consideration, which we seek for one purpose, which we enter into with difficulty, which we cannot retain without care and attention, will never produce those genuine and durable movements of passion, which are the result of nature, 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 dis- proportion of her features, as hope to excite or moderate any passion by the artificial arguments of a Seneca or an Epicte- tus. The remembrance of the natural aspect and situation of the object, will, in both cases, still recur upon him. The reflec- tions of philosophy are too 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 atmos- phere. Another defect of those refined reflections, which philosophy suggests to us, is, that commonly they cannot diminish or extin- guish our vicious passions, without diminishing or extinguishing such as are virtuous, and rendering the mind totally indifferent and unactive. 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 incessant study and me- ditation we have rendered them intimate 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 philosophical reflections so much celebrated both in ancient and modern times. Let not the inju- the sceptic. 193 ties or violence of menf say the philosophers,* ever discompose you by anger or hatred. Would you be angry at the ape for its malice, or the tyger for its ferocity ? This reflection 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 man- kind, as the particular instincts to brute-creatures. All ills arise from the order of the universe, which is abso- lutely perfect. Would you wish to disturb so divine an order for the sake of your own particular interest? What if the ills I suffer arise from malice or oppression ? But the vices and im- perfections of men are also comprehended inthe order of the, universe : If plagues and earthquakes break not heav'n's design, Why then a Borgia or a Catilike ? 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, then none are happy but knaves and robbers.] Man is born to be miserable ; and is he surprised at any par- ticular misfortune ? And can he give way to sorrow and la- mentation upon account of any disaster ? Yes : He very rea- sonably 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 death, disease, pover- ty, blindness, exile, calumny, and infamy, as ills which are in- * Pi.ct. de ira cohibenda. t Purr. Lacon. Apophibeg, B <2 194 ESSAY XVIII. cident to human 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 ourselves to a general and distant reflec- tion 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 perpetually miserable. Your sorrow is fruitless, and will not change the course of destiny. Very true : And for that very reason I am sorry. Cicero's consolation for deafness is somewhat curious. How many languages' are there, says he, which you do not under- stand ? The Punic, Spanish, Gallic, Egyptian, <§"c. With regard to all these, you are as if you were deaf, yet you are in- different about the matter. Is it then so great a misfortune U be deaf to one language more* ? 1 like better the repartee of Antipater the Cyreniao, when some women were condoling with him for his blindness : What! says he, Do you think there are no pleasures in the dark ? Nothing can be more destructive, says Fontenelle, to am- bition, and the passion for conquest, than the true system of as- tronomy. What a poor thing is even the whole globe in com- parison of the infinite extent of nature ? This consideration is evidently too distant ever to have any effect. Or, if it had any, would it not destroy patriotism as well as ambition ? The same gallant author adds with some reason, that the bright eyes of the ladies are the only objects, which lose nothing of their lustre or value from the most extensive views of astro- nomy, but stand proof against every system. Would philoso- phers advise us to limit our affection to them ? Exile, says Plutarch to a friend in banishment, is no evil: Mathematicians tell us, that the whole earth is but a point, com- • Test. Quest, lib. v. THE SCEPTIC. 195 pared 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 cli- mates are alike suited to him* These topics are admirable. could they fall only into the hands of banished persons. But what if they come also to the knowledge of those who are em- ployed in public affairs, and destroy all their attachment to their native country ? Or will they operate 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 human 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 attention ; the occupationwhich Lucian assigns him in the infernal regions. -Now all the same topics of dis- dain towards human affairs, which could operate on this suppos- ■ ed being, occur also to a philosopher ; but being, in some mea- sure, disproportioned to human capacity, and not being fortified by the experience of any thing better, they make not a full im- pression 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 rouzes 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 effect is to be expected^ * De exilio. 196 ESSAY XVIII. and that because these considerations are drawn from common life, and occur upon the most superficial view of human affairs. When we reflect on the shortness and uncertainty of life, how des- picable seem all our pursuits of happiness ? And even, if we would extend our concern beyond our own life, how frivol ous appear our most enlarged and most generous projects; when we consi- der 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 counterwork the artifice of na- ture, who has happily deceived us into an opinion, that human life is of some importance ? And may not such a reflection be employed 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 {he most of life as long as it endured. The same observation is made by Boccace with re- gard to the plague of Florence. A like principle makes sol- diers, during war, be more addicted to riot and expence, than any other race of men. Present pleasure is always of impor- tance ; and whatever diminishes the importance of all other ob- jects must bestow on it an additional influence and value. 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 compari- son 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 philosopher corrects this natural infirmity, by turning his view to the other side, in order to render himself easy in the sceptic. 197 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 lamentations for his own misfortunes, a deep com- passion for those of others. Such is the imperfection, even of the best of these philosophical topics of consolation.* I shall conclude this subject with observing, that, though vir- tue be undoubtedly the best choice, when it is attainable ; yet such is the disorder and confusion of human affairs, that no per- fect or regular distribution of hap v>iness 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, enjoys not always the highest felicity. It is observable, that, though every bodily pain proceeds from some disorder in the part or organ, yet the pain is not always proportioned to the disorder ; but is greater or less, according to the greater or less sensibility of the part, upon which the noxious humours exert their influence. A tooth-ach produces more violent convulsions of pain than a phthisis or a dropsy. In like manner, with regard to the ceconomy 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 degree of vice, nor is the man of highest virtue, even abstracting from ex- ternal accidents, always the most happy. A gloomy and me- lancholy disposition is certainly, to our sentiments, a vice or im- perfection ; but as it may be accompanied with great sense of honour and great integrity, it may be found in very worthy cha- See note [G.] 198 ESSAY XVIII. racters ; though it is sufficient alone to imbitter life, and render the person affected with it completely miserable. On the other hand, a selfish villain may possess a spring and alacrity of tem- per, a certain gaiety of heart, which is indeed a good quality, but which is rewarded much beyond its merit} and when attend- ed 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 possesses along with it, will render him more miserable, than if he were completely vicious. A per- son of such imbecility of temper as to be easily broken by afflic- tion, is more unhappy for being endowed with a generous and friendly disposition, which gives him a lively concern for others, and exposes him the more to fortune and accidents. A sense of shame, in an imperfect character, is certainly a virtue; but produces great uneasiness and remorse* from which the abandon- ed 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 be- yond himself, ana renders him a total slave to the object of his passion. In a word, human life is more governed by fortune than by rea- son ; is to be regarded more as„a /lull pastime than as a serious occupation; and is more influenced by particular humour, than by general principles. Shall we engage ourselves in it with passion and anxiety ? It is not worthy of so much concern. Shall we be indifferent about what happens ? We lose all the pleasure of the game by our phlegm and carelessness. While we are reasoning concerning life, life is gone; and death, though perhaps they receive him differently, yet treats alike the fool and the philosopher. To reduce life to exact rule and method, is commonly a painful, oft a fruitless occupation : And is it not also a proof, that we overvalue the prize for which we contend ? 199 the sceptic. Even to reason so carefully concerning it, and to fix with accu- racy 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. ESSAY XIX. OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. AS marriage is an engagement entered into by mutual con- sent, and has for its end the propagation of the species, it is evi- dent, 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 chil- dren, he is bound, by all the ties of nature and humanity, to provide for their subsistence and education. When he has per- formed these two parts of duty, no one can reproach him with injustice or injury. 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 different advan- tages, we find, that, in different times and places, they impose different conditions on this important contract. In ToNquiN, it is usual for the sailors, when the ships come into harbour, to marry for the season ; and notwithstanding this precarious en- gagement, they are assured, it is said, of the strictest fidelity to their bed, as well as in the whole management of their affairs, from those temporary spouses. C 2 202 ESSAY XIX. 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 hap- pened 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, per- haps the only poet, that ever entertained an aversion to the sex. In that agreeable romance, called the History of the Seva- ramrians, where a great many men and a few women are sup- posed to be shipwrecked on a desert coast; the captain of the troop, in order to obviate those endless quarrels which arose, regulates their marriages after the following manner: He takes a handsome female to himself alone ; assigns one to every cou- ple of inferior officers ; and to five of the lowest rank he gives one wife in common. The ancient Britons had a singular kind of marriage, 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 defence 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 re- puted to belong to all of them, and were accordingly provided for by the whole community. Among the inferior creatures, nature herself, being the su- preme legislator, prescribes all the laws which regulate their marriages, and varies those laws according to the different cir- cumstances 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 com- mitted entirely to the female. Where the food is of more diffi- OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 203 cult purchase, the marriage continues for one season, till the common progeny, can provide for itself; and then the union immediately dissolves, and leaves each of the parties free to en- ter into a new engagement at the ensuing season. But nature, having endowed man with reason, has not so exactly regulated every article of his marriage contract, but has left him to adjust them, by his own prudence, according to his particular circum- stances and situation. Municipal laws are a supply to the wis- dom of each individual; and, at the same time, by restraining the natural liberty of men, make private interest submit to the interest of the public. All regulations, therefore, on this head are equally 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 polygamy, as among the Eastern nations; or of voluntary divorces, as among the Greeks and Romans ; or they may confine one man to one wo- man, during the whole course of their lives, as among the modern Europeans. It may not be disagreeable to consider the advan- tages 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 expedi- 1 ent for freeing men from that slavery to the 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 neglecting it, the Europeans undergo a more grievous and a more ignominious 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 ap uncontroul- able sway. 204 ESSAY XIX. On the other hand, it may be urged with better reason, that this sovereignty of the male is a real usurpation, and destroys ■ that nearness of rank, not to say equality, which nature has es- tablished between the sexes. We are, by nature, their lovers, their friends, their patrons: Would we willingly exchange such endearing appellations, for the barbarous title of master and ty- rant ? In what capacity shall we gain by this inhuman proceeding? As lovers, or as husbands ? The lover, is totally annihilated; and courtship, the most agreeable scene in life, can no longer have place, where women have not the free disposal of them- selves, but are bought and sold, like the meanest.animal. The husband is as little a gainer, having found the admirable secret of extinguishing every part of love, except its jealousy. No rose without its thorn; but he must be a foolish wretch indeed, that throws away the rose and preserves only the thorn. But the Asiatic manners are as destructive to friendship as to love. Jealousy excludes men from all intimacies and famili- arities with each other. No one dares bring his friend to his house or table, 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 won- der 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 companions, he might have found life somewhat more agreeable. Destroy love and friendship; what remains in the world worth accepting ? The bad education of children, especially children of condi- tion, is another unavoidable consequence of these eastern insti- tutions. Those who pass the early part of life among slaves, are only qualified to be, themselves, slaves and tyrants ; and in every future intercourse, either with their inferiors or superiors, OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 205 are apt to forget the natural equality of mankind. What atten- tion, too, can it be supposed a parent, whose seraglio affords him 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 reason as well as experience, to be the inseparable attendant 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 commerce with the females, not even physicians, when sickness may be supposed to have extinguished all wanton passions in the bosoms of the fair, and, at the same time, has ren- dered them unfit objects of desire. Tournefort tells us, that, when he was brought into the grand signior's seraglio as a phy- sician, he was not a little surprized, in looking along a gallery, to see a number 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 pa- tient, or even of her attendants, lest he might find it necessary to enquire concerning circumstances, which the delicacy of the seraglio 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 Monsieur Tournefort been of this latter kind, he would not, in Constantinople, have been allowed by the jeal- ous Turks to be furnished with materials requisite for exercis- ing his art. In another country, where polygamy is also allowed, they ren- der their wives cripples, and make their feet of no use to them, in order to confine them to their own houses. But it will, per- haps appear strange, that, in a European country, jealousy can 206 ESSAY XIX. yet be carried to such a height, that it is indecent so much as to suppose that a woman of rank can have feet or legs. Wit- ness the following story, which we have taken from very good authority*. When the mother of the late king of Spain was on her road towards Madrid, she passed through a little town in Spain, famous for its manufactory of gloves and stockings. The magistrates of the place thought they could not better ex- press their joy for the reception of their new queen, than by presenting her with a sample of those commodities, for which alone their town was remarkable. The major domo, who con- ducted the princess, received the gloves very graciously: But when the stockings were presented, he flung them away with great indignation, and severely reprimanded the magistrates for this egregious piece of indecency. Know, says he, that a queen 0/Spain has no legs. The young queen, who at that time, un- derstood 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 never could endure the operation: And it was with some diffi- culty they could appease her. Philip IV. is said never in his life to have laughed heartily, but at the recital of this 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 di- vorces, which were customary among the Greeks and Romans. Those who would defend this practice may employ the follow- ing reasons. How often does disgust and aversion arise after marriage, from the most trivial accidents, or from an incompatibility of humour; where time, instead of curing the wounds, proceeding from mutual injuries, festers them every day the more, by new quarrels and reproaches ? Let us separate hearts, which were ' Memoirs de la covr d' Espagne par Madame (TAvsor. OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 207 not made to associate together. Each of them may, perhaps, find another for which it is better fitted. At least, nothing can be more cruel than to preserve, by violence, an union, which, at first, was made by mutual love, and is now, in effect, dissolv- ed by mutual hatred. But the liberty of divorces is not only a cure to hatred and domestic quarrels: It is also an admirable preservative against them, and the only secret for keeping alive that love, which first united the married couple. The heart of man delights in liber- ty : The very image of constraint is grievous to it: When you would confine it by violence, to what would 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 per- son, with whom I would conjoin myself. I had my choice, it is true, of my prison; but this is but a small comfort, since it must still be a prison. Such are the arguments which may be urged in favour of di- vorces : But there seem to be these three unanswerable objections against them. First, What must 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 con- cern of a parent, feel all the indifference or hatred of a stranger or an enemy ? These inconveniencies are sufficiently felt, where nature has made the divorce by the doom inevitable to all mor- tals : And shall we seek to multiply those inconveniencies, by multiplying divorces, and putting it in the power of parents, upon every caprice, to render their posterity miserable. Secondly, If it be true, on the one hand, that the heart of man naturally delights in liberty, and hates every thing to which it is confined; it is also true, on the other, that the heart of man 208 ESSAY XIX. naturally submits to necessity, and soon loses an inclination, when there appears an absolute impossibility of gratifying it. These principles of human nature, you'll say, are contradictory: But what is man but a heap of contradictions! Though it is re- markable, that, where principles are, 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 occa- sion, according 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 therefore Eloisa had reason, when, in order, to preserve this passion, she refused to marry her beloved Arelard. How oft, when prest 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. But friendship is a calm and sedate affection, conducted by reason and cemented by habit; springing from long acquain- tance and mutual obligations; without jealousies or fears, and without those feverish fits of heat and cold, which cause such an agreeable torment in the amorous passion. So sober an affection, therefore, as friendship, rather thrives under con- straint, 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. We need not, therefore, be afraid of drawing the marriage-knot, which chiefly subsists by friendship, the closest possible. The amity between the per- sons, where it is solid and sincere, will rather gain by it: And where it is wavering and uncertain, this is the best expedient for fixing it. How many frivolous quarrels and disgusts are there, which people of common prudence endeavour to forget, when they lie under a necessity of passing their lives together; but which would soon be inflamed into the most deadly hatred, OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES 209 were they pursued to the utmost, under the prospect of an easy separation ? In the third place, we must consider, that nothing is more dangerous than to unite two persons so closely in all their inter- ests and concerns, as man and wife, without rendering the uni- on 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 selfishness, being ac- companied with more power, may be still more dangerous. Should these reasons against voluntary divorces be deemed insufficient, I hope no body will pretend to refuse the testimo- ny of experience. At the time when divorces were most fre- quent among the Romans, marriages 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, which prohibited divorces, are extremely praised by Di- onysius Halycarnassjeus*. Wonderful was the harmony, says the historian, which this inseparable union of interests pro- duced between married persons ; while each of them consider- ed the inevitable necessity by which they were linked together, and abandoned all prospect of any other choice or establish- ment. The exclusion of polygamy and divorces sufficiently recom- mends our present European practice with regard to marriage • Lib. ii. D 2 ESSAY XX. OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT IN WRITING. FINE writing, according to Mr. Addison, consists of senti- ments, which are natural, without being obvious. There can- not be a juster, and more concise definition of fine writing. Sentiments, which are merely natural, affect not the mind with any pleasure, and seem not worthy of our attention. The pleasantries of a waterman, the observations of a peasant, the ribaldry of a porter or hackney coachman, all these are natural, and disagreeable. What 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 nature 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 con- vey a lively image to the mind. The absurd naivety of Sancho Pancho is represented in such inimitable colours by Cervan- tes, that it entertains as much as the picture of the most mag- nanimous hero or softest lover. The case is the same with orators, philosophers, critics, or any author who speaks in his own person, without introducing other speakers or actars. If his language be not elegant, his observa- tions 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 deceiv- ing path of life, which Horace talks of, fallentis semita vitce, 212 ESSAY XX. may be the happiest lot of the one ; but is the greatest misfor- tune, 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 resem- blance 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. Uncommon expressions, strong flashes of wit, pointed similies, and epigrammatic turns, especially when they recur too frequently, are a disfigurement, rather than any em- bellishment of discourse. As the eye, in surveying a Gothic building, is distracted by the multiplicity 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 surprize. This is the case where a writer over-abounds in wit, even though that wit, in itself, should be just and agreeable. But it com- monly happens to such writers, that they seek for their favour- ite ornaments, even where the subject does not afford them ; and by that means, have twenty insipid conceits for one thought which is really beautiful. There is no subject in critical learning more copious, than this of the just mixture of simplicity and refinement in writing; and therefore, not to wander in too large a field, I shall confine my- self to a few general observations on that head., First, I observe, That though excesses of both kinds are to be avoided, and though a proper medium ought to be studied in all productions ; yet this medium lies not in a point, but admits of a considerable latitude. Consider the wide distance, in this re- spect, between Mr. Pope and Lucretius. These seem to lie OF simplicity and refinement. 213 in the two greatest extremes of refinement and simplicity, in which a poet can indulge himself, without being guilty of any blamable excess. All this interval-may—be filled with poets, who may differ from each other, but may be equally admirable, each in his peculiar style and manner. Corneille and Con- greve, who carry their wit and refinement somewhat farther than Mr. Pope (if poets of so different a kind can be compared together), arid Sophocles and Terence, who are more simple than Lucretius, seem to have gone out of that medium, in which the most perfect productions are found, and to be guilty of some excess in these opposite characters. Of all the great poets, Vir- gil and Racine, 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 difficult, if not impossible, to explain by words, where the just medium lies between the excesses of simplicity and refinement, or to give any rule by which we can know precisely the bounds between the fault and the beauty. A critic may not only discourse very judi- ciously 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 dissertation on pastorals by Fontenelle ; in which, by a number of reflections and phi- losophical 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 author, 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 reasonings. He blames all exces- sive painting and ornament as much as Virgil could have done, had that great poet writ a dissertation on this species of poetry. However different the tastes of men, their general discourse on these subjects is commonly the same. No criticism can be in- 214 ESSAY XX. structive, which descends not to particulars, and is not full of examples and illustrations. It is allowed on all hands, that beauty, as well as virtue, always lies in a medium; but where this medium is placed, is the great question, and can never be sufficiently explained by general reasonings. I shall deliver it as a third observation on this subject, That we ought to be more on our guard against the excess of refinement than that of simplicity ; and that because the former excess is both less beautiful, and more dangerous than the latter. It is a certain rule, that wit and passion are entirely incompa- tible. When the affections are moved, there is no place for the imagination. The mind of man being naturally limited, it is im- possible that all his faculties can operate at once : And the more any one predominates, the less room is there for the others to exert their vigour. For this reason, a greater degree of simpli- city is required in all compositions, where men, and actions, and passions are painted, than in such as consist of reflections and observations. And as the former species of writing is the more engaging and beautiful, one may safely, upon this account, give the preference to the extreme of simplicity above that of refine- ment. We may also observe, that those compositions, which we read the oftenest, and which every man of taste has got by heart, have the recommendation of simplicity, and have nothing surprising in the thought, when divested of that elegance of expression, and harmony of numbers, with which it is clothed. If the merit of the composition lie in a point of wit; it may strike at first; but the mind anticipates the thought in the second perusal, and is no longer affected by it. When I read an epigram of Martial, the first line recalls the whole ; and I have no pleasure in repeat- ing to myself what 1 know already. But each line, each word in Catullus, has its merit; and I am never tired with the pe- rusal of him. It is sufficient to run over Cowley once: But OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT. 215 Parnel, after the fiftieth reading, is as fresh as at the first. Be- sides, it is with books as with women, where a certain plainness of manner and of dress is more engaging than that glare of paint and airs and apparel, which may dazzle the eye, but reaches not the affections. Terence is a modest and bashful beauty, to whom we grant every thing, because he assumes nothing, and whose purity and nature make a durable, though not a violent impression on us. But refinement, as it is the less beautiful, so is it the more dangerous extreme, and what we are the aptest to fall into. Sim- plicity passes for dulness, when it is not accompanied with great elegance and propriety. On the contrary, there is something surprizing in ablaze of wit and conceit. Ordinary readers are mightily struck with it, and falsely imagine it to be the most dif- ficult, as well as the most excellent way of writing. Seneca abounds with agreeable faults, says Quintilian, abundat dulcibus vitiis ; and for that reason is the more dangerous, and the more apt to pervert the taste of the young and inconsiderate. I shall add, that the excess of refinement is now more to be guarded against than ever; because it is the extreme, which men are the most apt to fall into, after learning has made some pro- gress, and after eminent writers have appeared in every species of composition. The endeavour to please by novelty leads men wide of simplicity and nature, and fills their writings with af- fectation and conceit. It was thus the Asiatic eloquence dege- nerated so much from the Attic : It was thus the age of Clau- dius and Nero became so much inferior to that of Augustus in taste and genius: A.nd perhaps there are, at present, some symp- toms of a like degeneracy of taste, in France as well as in En- gland. ESSAY XXI. OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. THE vulgar are apt to carry all national characters to ex- tremes ; and having once established it as a principle, that any people are knavish, or cowardly, or ignorant, they will admit of no exception, but comprehend every individual under the same censure. Men of sense condemn these undistinguishing judg- ments : Though at the same time, they allow, that each nation has a peculiar set of manners, and that some particular quali- ties are more frequently to be met with among one people than among their neighbours. The common people in Switzerland have probably more honesty than those of the same rank in Ireland ; and every prudent man will, from that circumstance alone, make a difference in the trust which he reposes in each. We have reason to expect greater wit and gaiety in a French- man than in a Spaniard ; though Cervantes was born in Spain. An Englishman will naturally be supposed to have more knowledge than a Dane; though Tycho Brahe was a na- tive of Denmark. Different reasons are assigned for these national characters ; while some account for them from moral, others from physical causes. By moral causes, I mean all circumstances, which are fitted to work on the mind as motives or reasons, and which ren- der a peculiar set of manners habitual to us. Of this kind are, the nature of the government, the revolutions of public affairs, the plenty or penury in which the people live, the situation of the nation with regard to its neighbours, and such like circumstan- ces. By physical causes I mean those qualities of the air and climate, which are supposed to work insensibly on the temper, 218 ESSAY XXI. by altering the tone and habit of the body, and giving a particu- lar complexion, which, though reflection and reason may some- times overcome it, will yet prevail among the generality of man- kind, and have an influence on their manners. That the character of a nation will much depend on moral causes, must be evident to the most superficial observer ; since a nation is nothing but a collection of individuals, and the man- ners of individuals are frequently determined by these causes. As poverty and hard labour debase the minds of the common people, and render them unfit for any science and ingenious profession ; so where any government becomes very oppressive to all its subjects, it must have a proportional effect on their tem- per and genius, and must banish all the liberal arts from among them. The same principle of moral causes fixes the character of dif- ferent professions, and alters even that disposition, which the particular members receive from the hand of nature. A soldier and a priest are different characters, in all nations, and all ages; and this difference is founded on circumstances, whose opera- tion is eternal and unalterable. The uncertainty of their life makes soldiers lavish and gener- ous, as well as brave : Their idleness, together with the large societies, which they form in camps or garrisons, inclines them to pleasure and gallantry : By their frequent change of com- pany, they acquire good breeding and an openness of behaviour: Being employed only against a public and an open enemy, they become candid, honest, and undesigning : And as they use more the labour of the body than that of the mind, they are common- ly thoughtless and ignorant.* It is a trite, but not altogether a false maxim, that priests of all religions are the same ; and though the character of the pro- * See note [H.] OF NATIONAL CHARACTER. 219 fession will not, in every instance, prevail over the personal cha- racter, yet is it sure always to predominate with the greater number. For as chymists observe, that spirits, when raised to a certain height, are all the same, from whatever materials they be extracted ; so these men, being elevated above humanity, ac- quire a uniform character, which is entirely their own, and which, in my opinion, is, generally speaking, not the most amiable that is to be met with in human society. It is, in most points, oppo- site to that of a soldier; as is the way of life, from which it is derived.* As to physical causes, I am inclined to doubt altogether of their operation in this particular ; nor do I think, that men owe any thing of their temper or genius to the air, food, or climate. I confess, that the contrary opinion may justly, at first sight, seem probable; since we find, that these circumstances have an influence over every other animal, and that even those creatures, which are fitted to live in all climates, such as dogs, horses, <§*c. do not attain the same perfection in all. The courage of bull- dogs and game-cocks seems peculiar to England. Flanders is remarkable for large and heavy horses : Spain for horses light, and of good mettle. And any breed of these creatures, transplanted from one country to another, will soon lose the qua- lities, which they derived from their native climate. It may be asked, why not the same with men ?f There are few questions more curious than this, or which will oftener occur in our enquiries concerning human affairs ; and therefore it may be proper to give it a full examination. The human mind is of a very imitative nature; nor is it pos- sible for any set of men to converse often together, without acquiring a similitude of manners, and communicating to each ♦ See note [I.J f See note [K.] 220 ESSAY XXI. Other vices as well as virtues. The propensity to company and society is strong in all rational creatures; and the same disposi- tion, which gives us this propensity, makes us enter deeply into each other's sentiments, and causes like passions and inclina- tions to run, as it were, by contagion, through the whole club or knot of companions. Where a number of men are united into one political body, the occasions, of their intercourse must be so frequent, for defence, commerce, and government, that, toge- ther with the same speech or language, they must acquire a re- semblance in their manners, and have a common or national cha- racter, as well as a personal one, peculiar to each individual. Now though nature produces all kinds of temper and under- standing in great abundance, it does not follow, that she always produces them in like proportions, and that in every society the ingredients of industry and indolence, valour and cowardice, humanity and brutality, wisdom and folly, will be mixed after the same manner. In the infancy of society, if any of these dispositions be found in greater abundance than the rest, it will naturally prevail in the composition, and give a tincture to the national character. Or should it be asserted, that no species of temper can reasonably be presumed to predominate, even in those contracted societies, and that the same proportions will al- ways be preserved in the mixture ; yet surely the persons in credit and authority, being still a more contracted body, cannot always be presumed to be of the same character; and their in- fluence on the manners of the people, must, at all times, be very considerable. If on the first establishment of a republic, a Bru- tus should be placed in authority, and be transported with such an enthusiasm for liberty and public good, as to overlook all the ties of nature, as well as private interest, such an illustrious example will naturally have an effect on the whole society, and kindle the same passion in every bosom. Whatever it be that forms the manners of one generation the next must imbibe adeep- er tincture of the same dye; men being more susceptible of all impressions during infancy, and retaining these impressions as long as they remain in the world. I assert, then, that all nation* THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 221 al characters, where they depend not on fixed moral causes, proceed from such accidents as these, and that physical causes have no discernible operation on the human mind. It is a max- im in all philosophy, that causes, wh:ch do not appear, are to be considered as not existing. If we run over the globe, or revolve the annals of history, we shall discover every where signs of a sympathy or contagion of manners, none of the influence of air or climate. First. We may observe, that, where a very extensive govern- ment has been established for many centuries, it spreads a na- tional character over the whole empire, and communicates to every part a similarity of manners. Thus the Chinese have the greatest uniformity of character imaginable : though the air and climate, in different parts of those vast dominions, admit of very considerable variations. Secondly. In small governments which are contiguous, the peo- ple have notwithstanding a different character, and are often as distinguishable in their manners as the most distant nations. Athens and Thebes were but a short day's journey from each other ; though the Athenians were as remarkable for ingenuity, politeness, and gaiety, as the Thebians for dulness, rusticity, and a phlegmatic temper. Plutarch, discoursing of the effects of air on the minds of men, observes, that the inhabitants of the Pir.£um possessed very different tempers from those of the higher town in Athens, which was distant about four miles from the former : But I believe no one attributes the difference of manners in Wapping and St. James's, to a difference of air or climate. Thirdly. The same national character commonly follows the authority of government to a precise boundary; and upon cross- ing a river or passing a mountain, one finds a new set of man- ners, with a new government. The Languedocians and Gas- -222 ESSAY XXI. cons are the gayest people in France ; but whenever you pass the Pyrenees, you are among Spaniards. Is it conceivable, that the qualities of the air should change exactly with the limits of an empire, which depend so much on the accidents of battles, negociations, and marriages ? Fourthly. Where any set of men, scattered over distant na- tions, maintain a close society or communication together, they acquire a similitude of manners, and have but little in common with the nations amongst whom they live. Thus the Jews in Europe, and the Armenians in the east, have a peculiar cha- racter ; and the former are as much noted for fraud, as the lat- ter for probity*. The Jesuits, in all Roman-catholic countries, are also observed to have a character peculiar to themselves. Fifthly. Where any accident, as a difference in language or religion, keeps two nations, inhabiting the same country, from mixing with each other, they will preserve, during several cen- turies, a distinct and even opposite set of manners. The inte- grity, gravity, and bravery of the Turks, form an exact contrast to the deceit, levity, and cowardice of the modern Greeks. Sixthly. The same set of manners will follow a nation, and adhere to them over tlie whole globe, as well as the same laws and language. The Spanish, English, French and Dutch colonies are all distinguishable even between the tropics. Seventhly. The manners of a people change very consider- ably from one age to another; either by great alterations in their government, by the mixtures of new people, or by that incon- stancy, to which all human affairs are subject. The ingenuity, industry, and activity of the ancient Greeks have nothing in common with the stupidity and indolence of the present inhabi- tants of those regions. Candour, bravery, and love of liberty * See note [L.] OF NATIONAL CHARACTER. 223 formed the character of the ancient Romans ; as subtility, cow- ardice, and a slavish disposition do that of the modern. The old Spaniards were restless, turbulent, and so addicted to war, that many of them killed themselves, when deprived of their arms by the Romans.* One would find an equal difficulty at present, (at least one would have found it fifty years ago) to rouse up the modern Spaniards to arms. The Bata- vians were all soldiers of fortune, and hired themselves into the Roman armies. Their posterity make use of foreigners for the same purpose that the Romans did their ancestors. Though some few strokes of the French character be the same with that which Cesar has ascribed to the Gauls; yet what comparison between the civility, humanity, and knowledge of the modern inhabitants of that country, and the ignorance, barbarity, and grossness of the ancient ? Not to insist upon the great differ- ence between the present possessors of Britain, and those be- fore the Roman conquest; we may observe that our ancestors, a few centuries ago, were sunk into the most abject superstition ; last century they were inflamed with the most furious enthusi- asm, and are now settled into the most cool indifference with re- gard to religious matters, that is to be found in any nation of the world. Eighthly. Where several neighbouring nations have a very close communication together, either by policy, commerce, or travelling, they acquire a similitude of manners, proportioned to the communication. Thus all the Franks appear to have a uniform character to the eastern nations. The differences among them are like the peculiar accents of different provinces, which are not distinguishable, except by an ear accustomed to them, and which commonly escape a foreigner. Ninthly. We may often remark a wonderful mixture of man- ners and characters in the same nation, speaking the same lan- * Tit. Livii, lib. xxxiv, cap. 17. 224 ESSAY XXI. guage, and subject to the same government: And in this parti- cular the English are the most remarkable of any people, that perhaps ever were in the world. Nor is this to be ascribed to the mutability and uncertainty of their climate, or to any other physi- cal causes; since all these causes take place in the neighbouring country of Scotland, without having the same effect. Where the government of a nation is altogether republican, it is apt to beget a peculiar set of manners. Where it is altogether monar- chical, it is more apt to have the same effect; the imitation of superiors spreading the national manners faster among the peo- ple. If the governing part of a state consist altogether of mer- chants, as in Holland, their uniform way of life will fix their character. If it consists chiefly of nobles and landed gentry, like Germany, France, and Spain, the same effect follows. The genius of a particular sector religion is also apt to mould the man- ners of a people. But the English government is a mixture of mo- narchy, aristocracy, and democracy. The people in authority are composed of gentry and merchants. All sects of religion are to be found among them. And the great liberty and inde- pendency, which every man enjoys, allows him to display the manners peculiar to him. Hence the English, of any people in the universe, have the least of a national character; unless this very singularity may pass for such. If the characters of men depended on the air and climate, the degrees of heat and cold should naturally be expected to have a mighty influence; since nothing has a greater effect on all plants and irrational animals. And indeed there is some reason to think, that all the nations, which live beyond the polar circles or between the tropics, are inferior to the rest of the species, and are incapable of all the higher attainments of the human mind. The poverty and misery of the northern inhabitants of the globe, and the indolence of the southern, from their few necessities, may, perhaps, account for this remarkable difference, without our having recourse to physical causes. This however is cer- tain, that the characters of nations are very promiscuous in the OF national characters. 225 temperate climates, and that almost all the general observations, which have been formed of the more southern or more northern people in these climates, are found to be uncertain and falla- cious*. Shall we say, that the neighbourhood of the sun inflames the imagination of men, and gives it a peculiar spirit and vivacity. The French, Greeks, Egyptians, and Persians are remarka- ble for gaiety. The Spaniards, Turks, and Chinese are noted for gravity and a serious deportment, without any such differ- ence of climate as to produce this difference of temper. The Greeks and Romans, who called all other nations bar- barians, confined genius and a fine understanding to the more southern climates, and pronounced the northern nations incapa- ble of all knowledge and civility. But our island has produced as great men, either for action or learning, as Greece or Italy has to boast of. It is pretended, that the sentiments of men become more de- licate as the country approaches nearer to the sun: and that the taste of beauty and elegance receives proportional improvements in every latitude; as we may particularly observe of the lan- guages, of which the more southern are smooth and melodious, the northern harsh and untuneable. But this observation holds not universally. The Arabic is uncouth and disagreeable: The Muscovite soft and musical. Energy, strength, and harshness form the character of the Latin tongue : The Italian is the most liquid, smooth, and effeminate language that can possibly be imagined. Every language will depend somewhat o*i the man- ners of the people; but much more on that original stock of words and sounds, which they received from their ancestors, and which remain unchangeable, even while their manners admit of the greatest alterations. Who can doubt, but the English are * See note [M.] F2 226 ESSAY XXI. at present a more polite and knowing people than the Greeks were for several ages after the siege of Troy ? Yet is there no comparison between the language of Milton and that of Homer. Nay, the greater are the alterations and improvements, which happen in the manners of a people, the less can be expected in their language. A few eminent and refined geniuses will communi- cate their taste and knowledge to a whole people, and produce the greatest improvements; but they fix the tongue by their writings, and prevent, in some degree, its farther changes. Lord Bacon has observed, that the inhabitants of the south are, in general, more ingenious than those of the north; but that, where the native of a cold climate has genius, he rises to a high- er pitch than can be reached by the southern wits. This obser- vation a late * writer confirms, by comparing the southern wits to cucumbers, which are commonly all good in their kind; but at best are an insipid fruit: While the northern geniuses are like melons, of which not one in fifty is good; but when it is so, it has an exquisite relish. I believe this remark may be allowed just, when confined to the European nations, and to the pre- sent age, or rather to the preceding one: But I think it may be accounted for from moral causes. All the sciences and liberal arts have been imported to us from the south; and it is easy to imagine, that in the first order of application, when excited by emulation and by glory, the few, who were addicted to them, would carry them to the greatest height, and stretch every nerve, and every faculty, to reach the pinnacle of perfection. Such illustrious examples spread knowledge every where, and begot an universal esteem for the sciences: After which, it is no won- der, that industry relaxes; while men meet not with suitable encouragement, nor arrive at such distinction by their attain- ments. The universal diffusion of learning among a people, and the entire banishment of gross ignorance and rusticity, is, there- fore, seldom attended with any remarkable perfection in parti- cular persons. It seems to be taken for granted in the dialogue * Dr. Berkeley: Minute Philosopher. OF national characters. 227 de Oratoribus, that knowledge was much more common in Ves- pasian's age than in that of Cicero and Augustus. Quinti- lian also complains of the profanation of learning, by its be- coming too common. " Formerly," says Juvenal, "science was ** confined to Greece and Italy. Now the whole world emu- " lates Athens and Rome. Eloquent Gaul has taught Bri- " tain, knowing in the laws. Even Thule entertains, thoughts " of hiring rhetoricians for its instruction*." This state of learn- ing is remarkable; because Juvenal is himself the last of the Roman writers, that possessed any degree of genius. Those who succeeded, are valued for nothing but the matters of fact, of which they give information. I hope the late conversion of Muscovy to the study of the sciences will not prove a little prognostic to the present period of learning. Cardinal Bentivoglio gives the preference to the northern nations above the southern with regard to candour and sinceri- ty; and mentions, on the one hand, the Spaniards and Italians, and on the other, the Flemings and Germans. But I am apt to think, that this has happened by accident. The ancient Romans seem to have been a candid sincere people, as are the modern Turks. But if we must needs suppose, that this event has aris- en from fixed causes, we may only conclude from it, that all ex- tremes are apt to concur, and are commonly attended with the same consequences. Treachery is the usual concomitant of ig- norance and barbarism; and if civilized nations ever embrace subtle and crooked politics, it is from an excess of refinement, which makes them disdain the plain direct path to power and •glory. Most conquests have gone from north to south; and it has hence been inferred, that the northern nations possess a superior * " Sed Cantaber unde Stoicus ? antiqui prsesertim setate Metelli. Nunc totus Ghaias, nostrasque habet orbis Athenas. Gallia causidicos docuit facunda Britannos : De conducendo loquitur jam rhetore Thttu;." Sat. 15. 228 ESSAY XXI. degree of courage and ferocity. But it would have been juster to have said, that most conquests are made by poverty and want upon plenty and riches. The Saracens, leaving the deserts of Arabia, carried their conquests northwards upon all the fertile provinces of the Roman empire; and met the Turks halfway, who were coming southwards from the deserts of Tartary. An eminent writer * has remarked, that all courageous animals are also carnivorous, and that greater courage is to be expected in a people, such as the English, whose food is strong and hear- ty, than in the half-starved commonalty of other countries. But the Swedes, notwithstanding their disadvantages in this parti- cular, are not inferior, in martial courage, to any nation that ever was in the world. In general, we may observe, that courage, of all national qual- ities, is the most precarious; because it is exerted only at inter- vals, and by a few in every nation; whereas industry, knowledge, civility, may be of constant and universal use, and for seve- ral ages may become habitual to the whole people. If courage be preserved, it must be by discipline, example, and opinion. The tenth legion of Cesar, and the regiment of Picardy in France were formed promiscuously, from among the citizens; but having once entertained a notion, that they were the best troops in the service, this very opinion really made them such. As a proof how much courage depends on opinion, we may ob- serve, that, of the two chief tribes of the Greeks, the Dorians, and Ionians, the former were always esteemed, and always ap- peared more brave and manly than the latter; though the colonies of both the tribes were interspersed and intermingled throughout all the extent of Greece, the Lesser Asia, Sicily, Italy, and the islands of the JEgean sea. The Athenians were the only Ionians that ever had any reputation for valour or military achievements; though even these were deemed inferior to the "Lacedemonians the bravest of the Dorians. * Sir Wimiam Tehpie's account of the Netherlands. OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 229 The only observation, with regard to the difference of men in different climates, on which we can rest any weight, is the vul- gar one, that people in the northern regions have a greater in- clination to strong liquors, and those in the southern to love and women. One can assign a very probable physical cause for this difference. Wine and distilled waters warm the frozen blood in the colder climates, and fortify men against the injuries of the weather: As the genial heat of the sun, in the countries exposed to his beams, inflames the blood, and exalts the passion between the sexes. Perhaps too, the matter may be accounted for by moral cau- ses. All strong liquors are rarer in the north, and consequently are more coveted. Diodorus Siculus * tells us, that the Gauls in his time were great drunkards, and much addicted to wine; chiefly, I suppose, from its rarity and novelty. On the other hand, the heat in the southern climates, obliging men and women to go half naked, thereby renders their frequent commerce more dangerous, and inflames their mutual passion. This makes parents and husbands more jealous and reserved; which still farther inflames the passion. Not to mention, that, as women ripen sooner in the southern regions, it is necessary to observe greater jealousy and care in their education; it being evi- dent, that a girl of twelve cannot possess equal discretion to go- vern this passion, with one who feels not its violence till she be seventeen or eighteen. Nothing so much encourages the passion of love as ease and leisure, or is more destructive to it than in- dustry and hard labour; and as the necessities of men are evi- dently fewer in the warm climates than in the cold ones, this circumstance alone may make a considerable difference between them. • Lib. v. The same author ascribes taciturnity to that people; a new proof that national characters may alter very much. Taciturnity, as a na- tional character, implies unsociableness. Aristotle in his Politics, book ii. cap. 2. says, that the Gauls are the only warlike nation, who are negli- gent of women. 230 ESSAY XXI. But perhapB the fact is doubtful, that nature has, either from moral or physical causes, distributed these respective inclina- tions to the different climates. The ancient Greeks, though born in a warm climate, seem to have been much addicted to the bottle; nor were their parties of pleasure anything but matches of drinking among men, who passed their time altoge- ther apart from the fair. Yet when Alexander led the Greeks into Persia, a still more southern climate, they multiplied their debauches of this kind, in imitation of the Persian manners*. So honourable was the character of a drunkard among the Per- sians, that Cyrus the younger, soliciting the sober Lace- demonians for succour against his brother Artaxerxes, claims it chiefly on account of his superior endowments, as more valorous, more bountiful, and a better drinker f. Darius Hys- taspes made it be inscribed on his tomb-stone, among his other virtues and princely qualities, that no one could bear a greater quantity of liquor. You may obtain any thing of the Negroes by offering them strong drink; and may easily prevail with them to sell, not only their children, but their wives and mistresses, for a cask of brandy. In France and Italy few drink pure wine, except in the greatest heats of summer; and indeed, it is then almost as necessary, in order.to recruit the spirits, eva- porated by heat, as it is in Sweden, during the winter, in order to warm the bodies congealed by the rigour of the season. If jealousy be regarded as a proof of an amorous disposition, no people were more jealous than the Muscovites, before their communication with Europe had somewhat altered their man- ners in this particular. But supposing the fact true, that nature, by physical princi- ples, has regularly distributed these two passions, the one to • Babylonii maxime in vinum, & qme ebrietatem sequunlur, efftifi. sunt. Quint. Ccji. lib. v. cap. i. •{-Plut. Simp. lib. i. qusst. 4. OF NATIONAL CHARACTER?. 231 the northern, the other to the southern regions; we can only infer, that the climate may affect the grosser and more bodily organs of our frame ; not that it can work upon those finer or- gans, on which the operations of the mind and understanding depend. And this is agreeable to the analogy of nature. The races of animals never degenerate when carefully tended; and horses, in particular, always show their blood in their shape, spi- rit, and swiftness: But a coxcomb may beget a philosopher; as a man of virtue may leave a worthless progeny. I shall conclude this subject with observing, that though the passion for liquor be more brutal and debasing than love, which, when properly managed, is the source of all politeness and re- finement ; yet this gives not so great an advantage to the south- ern climates, as we may be apt, at first sight, to imagine. When love goes beyond a certain pitch, it renders men jealous, and cuts off the free intercourse between the sexes, on which the politeness of a nation will commonly much depend. And if we would subtilize and refine upon this point, we might ob- serve, that the people, in very temperate climates, are the most likely to attain all sorts of improvement; their blood not being so inflamed as to render them jealous, and yet being warm enough to make them set a due value on the charms and endow- ments of the fair sex.* * Notwithstanding the learning and ingenuity exhibited by Mr. Hume in this essay, it appears to me that he has missed the truth. There can be no doubt but that the human mind is so connected with the body, that but few changes can be made in one without affecting the other. It is not to be contended that minds may not, by extraordinary means, be moulded almost to any disposition ; for the coward may be made brave, and the brave made to lose self command; the cold inhabitant of the north, by generous diet and drink, diligently given, will become fully as amorous as those stimulated by a southern sun. But by the ordinary operation of regimen and of climate, I think effects will be produced peculiar to each essential change, ultimately fully equal to counteracting any operation from accidental and extraordinary causes. A vegetable diet lessens the fero- 232 ESSAY XXI. city of all accustomed to animal; as does a stimulating diet'encrease it.—- Obesity begets good nature; and the climate favouring it must be marked by the good nature of the inhabitants, when not counteracted by some powerful cause. The state of country producing the enlargement of the throat called goitre; or indeed any other enlargement of the body cannot fail to produce some peculiar effects upon the mind, although at present not known. The emigrations or changes of residence, to which most men are so much inclined, render it difficult to acquire accurate knowledge of the peculiar effects produced by each climate. But I think it may be laid down as a truth, that any climate which produces peculiar effects upon men's bodies, will produce changes on their habits. Must it not be ow- ing to the climate, that in Turkey, at the present day, there are nunneried established by sects of the Mahomedans, who devote themselves as fully to the monastic life, as the followers of the Christian religion, in the same country, of former ages ? Do not the Christians of Judea circumcise, with the same pious motives, a? the Jews ? To what but the climate can be ascribed the despotic governments, universal in all hot countries ? In- deed I have some belief, that every country remarkably different from another, will have a government and religion as peculiar and natural to it, as any peculiar shape of body or disposition. But many centuries must elapse, and man become infinitely more stationary, before we can pre- tend to say what religion, morals and manners are peculiar to each climate. £• ESSAY XXII. OF TRAGEDY. IT seems an unaccountable pleasure, which the spectators of a well-written tragedy receive from sorrow, terror, anxiety, and ether passions, that are in themselves disagreeable and uneasy. The more they are touched and affected, the more are they de- lighted with the spectacle; and as soon as the uneasy passion? tease to operate, the piece is at an end. One scene of full joy and contentment and security is the utmost, that any composi- tion of this kind can bear; and it is sure always to be the con- cluding one. If, in the texture of the piece, there be interwoven any scenes of satisfaction, they afford only 'faint gleams of plea* sure, which are thrown in by way of variety, and in order to plunge the actors into deeper distress, by means of that contrast and disappointment. The whole art of the poet is employed, in rpuzing and supporting the passion and indignation, the anxiety and resentment of his audience. They are pleased in proportion as they are afflicted, and never are so happy as when they em- ploy tears, sobs, and cries to give vent to their sorrow, and r«. lieve their heart, swoln with the tenderest sympathy and com* passion. The few critics who have had same tincture «f philosophy! have remarked this singular phenomenon, and have endeavoured to account for it. L'Abbe Dobos, in his reflections on poetry and painting, as- serts, that nothing is in general so disagreeable t© the mind as the languid, listless state of indolence, inta which it falli upon G2 234 ESSAY XXII. the removal of all passion and occupation. To get rid of this painful situation, it seeks every amusement and pursuit; busi- ness, gaming, shews, executions; whatever will rouse the pas- sions, and take its attention from itself. No matter what the passion is : Let it be disagreeable, afflicting, melancholy, disor- ordered ; it is still better than that insipid languor, which arises from perfect tranquillity and repose. It is impossible not to admit this account, as being, at least in part, satisfactory. You may observe, when there are seve- ra' tables of gaming, that all the company run to those, where the deepest play is, even though they find not there the best players. The view, or, at least, imagination of high passions, arising from great loss or gain, affects the spectator by sympathy, gives him some touches of the same passions, and serves him for a momentary entertainment. It makes the time pass the easier with him, and is some relief to that oppression, under which men commonly labour, when left entirely to their own thoughts and meditations. We find that common liars always magnify, in their narra- tions, all kinds of danger, pain, distress, sickness, deaths, mur- ders, and cruelties; as well as joy, beauty, mirth, and magni- ficence. It is an absurd secret, which they have for pleasing their company, fixing their attention, and attaching them to such marvellous relations, by the passions and emotions, which they excite. There is, however a difficulty in applying to the present sub- ject, in its full extent, this solution, however ingenious and satisfactory it may appear. It is certain, that the same object of distress which pleases in a tragedy, were it really set before us, would give the most unfeigned uneasiness; though it be then the most effectual cure to languor and indolence. Mon- sieur Fontenelle seems to have been sensible of this difficulty; and accordingly attempts another solution of the pheenome- OF TRAGEDY. 235 •on ; at least makes some addition to the theory above men- tioned.* " Pleasure and pain," says he, " which are two sentiments so « different in themselves, differ not so much in their cause. H From the instance of tickling, it appears, that the movement " of pleasure, pushed a little too far, becomes pain ; and that " the movement of pain, a little moderated, becomes pleasure. " Hence it proceeds, that there is such a thing as a sorrow, soft " and agreeable : It is a pain weakened and diminished. The " heart likes naturally to be moved and affected. Melancholy " objects suit it, and even disastrous and sorrowful, provided " they are softened by some circumstance. It is certain, that, " on the theatre, the representation has almost the effect of re- " ality ; yet it has not altogether that effect. However we may " be hurried away by the spectacle ; whatever dominion the " senses and imagination may usurp over the reason, there still " lurks at the bottom a certain idea of falsehood in the whole of " what we see. This idea, though weak and disguised, suffices " to diminish the pain which we suffer from the misfortunes of " those whom we love, and to reduce that affliction to such a " pitch as converts it into a pleasure. We weep for the mis- " fortune of a hero, to whom we are attached. In the same in- " stant we comfort ourselves, by reflecting, that it is nothing " but a fiction: And it is precisely that mixture of sentiments, " which composes an agreeable sorrow, and tears that delight'us. " But as that affliction, which is caused by exterior and sensible- " objects, is stronger than the consolation which arises from an " internal reflection, they are the effects and symptoms of sor- " row, that ought to predominate in the composition." This solution seems just and convincing; but perhaps it wants still some new addition in order to make it answer fully the phsenomenon, which we here examine. All the passions, excit- * Reflections sur la poetique, § 36. 2M ESSAY XXII. ed by eloquence, are agreeable in the highest degree, as well m those which are moved by painting and the theatre. The epi- logues of Cicero are, on this account chiefly, the delight of every reader of taste ; and it is difficult to read some of them without the deepest sympathy and sorrow. His merit as an orator, no doubt, depends much on his success in this particular. When he had raised tears in his judges and all his audience, they were then the most highly delighted, and expressed the greatest satis- faction with the pleader. The pathetic description of the butche- ry, made by Verres of the Sicilian captains, is a masterpiece of this kind : But I believe none will affirm, that the being present at a melancholy scene of that nature would afford any entertainment. Neither is the sorrow here softened by fiction : For the audience were convinced of the reality of every circum- stance. What is it then, which in this case raises a pleasure from the bosom of uneasiness, so to speak; and a pleasure which still retains all the features and outward symptoms of distress and sorrow ? I answer : This extraordinary effect proceeds from that very eloquence, with which the melancholy scene is represented. The genius required to paint objects in a lively manner, the art employed in collecting all the pathetic circumstances, the judg- ment displayed in disposing them : the exercise, I say, of these noble talents, together with the force of expression, and beauty of oratorial numbers, diffuse the highest satisfaction on the au- dience, and excite the most delightful movements. By this means, the uneasiness of the melancholy passions is not only over- powered and effaced by something stronger of an opposite kind ; but the whole impulse of those passions is converted into plea- sure, and swells the delight which the eloquence raises in us. The same force of oratory, employed on an uninteresting sub- ject, would not please half so much, or rather would appear al- together ridiculous ; and the mind, being left in absolute calm- ness and indifference, would relish none of those beauties, of imagination or expression, which, if joined to passion, give i< OF TRAGEDY. 237 such exquisite entertainment. The impulse or vehemence, arising from sorrow, compassion, indignation, receives a new direction from the sentiments of beauty. The latter, being the predominant emotion, seize the whole mind, and convert the former into themselves, at least tincture them so strongly as totally to alter their nature. And the soul, being, at the same time, roused by passion, and charmed by eloquence, feels on the whole a strong movement, which is altogether delightful. The same principle takes place in tragedy; with this addi- tion, that tragedy is an imitation; and imitation is always of itself agreeable. This circumstance serves still farther to smooth the motions of passion, and convert the whole feeling into one uniform and strong enjoyment. Objects of the greatest terror and distress please in painting, and please more than the most beautiful objects, that appear calm and indifferent.* The affec- tion, rousing the mind, excites a large stock of spirit and vehe- mence ; which is all transformed into pleasure by the force of the prevailing movement. It is thus the fiction of tragedy sof- tens the passion, by an infusion of a new feeling, not merely by weakening or diminishing the sorrow. You may by degrees weaken a real sorrow, till it totally disappears; yet in none of its gradations will it ever give pleasure; except, perhaps, by ac- cident, to a man sunk under lethargic indolence, whom it rouzes from that languid state. To confirm this theory, it will be sufficient to produce other instances, where the subordinate movement is converted into the predominant, and gives force to it, though of a different, and even sometimes though of a contrary nature. Novelty naturally rouses the mind, and attracts our atten- tion ; and the movements, which it causes, are always convert- ed into any passion, belonging to tlie object, and join their force • See note [N.] 238 ESSAY XXII. to it. Whether an event excite joy or sorrow, pride or shame, anger or good-will, it is sure to produce a stronger affection, when new or unusual. And though novelty of itself be agreea- ble, it fortifies the painful, as well as agreeable passions. Had you any intention* to move a person extremely by the nar- ration of any event, the best method of encreasing its effect would be artfully to delay informing him of it, and first to ex- cite his curiosity and impatience before you let him into the se- cret. This is the artifice practised by Iago in the famous scene of Shakespeare ; and every spectator is sensible, that Othel- lo's jealousy acquires additional force from his preceding im- patience, and that the subordinate passion is here readily trans- formed into the predominant one. Difficulties encrease passions of every kind; and by rousing ©ur attention, and exciting our active powers, they produce an emotion, which nourishes the prevailing affection. Parents commonly love that child most, whose sickly infirm frame of body has occasioned them the greatest pains, trouble, and anxiety in rearing him. The agreeable sentiment of affec- tion here acquires force from sentiments of uneasiness. Nothing endears so much a friend as sorrow for his death. The pleasure of his company has not so powerful an influence. Jealousy is a painful passion ; yet without some share of it, the agreeable affection of love has difficulty to subsist in its full force and violence. Absence is also a great source of com laint among lovers, and gives them the greatest uneasiness: Yet nothing is more favourable to their mutual passion than short intervals of that kind. And if long intervals often prove fatal, it is only because, through time, men are accustomed to them, and they cease to give uneasiness. Jealousy and absence in OF TRAGEDY. 239 love compose the dolce peccante of the Italians, which they sup- pose so essential to all pleasure. There is a fine observation of the elder Pliny, which illus- trates the principle here insisted on. It is very remarkable, says he, that the last works of celebrated artists, which they left imperfect, are always the most prized, such as the Iris of Aris- tides. the Tyndarides o/Nicomachus the Medea of Timo- machus and the Venus of Apelles. These are valued even above their finished productions : The broken lineaments of the piece, and the half formed idea of the painter are carefully studied ; and our very grief for that curious hand, which had been stop- ped by death, is an additional encrease to our pleasure.* These instances (and many more might be collected) are suffi- cient to afford us some insight into the analogy of nature, and to show us, that the pleasure, which poets, orators, and musicians give us, by exciting grief, sorrow, indignation, compassion, is not so extraordinary or paradoxical, as it may at first sight appear. The force of imagination, the energy of expression, the power of numbers, the charms of imitation ; all these are natu- rally, of themselves, delightful to the mind: And when the ob- ject presented lays also hold of some affection, the pleasure still rises upon us, by the conversion of this subordinate movement into that which is predominant. The passion, though, perhaps, naturally, and when excited by the simple appearance of a real object, it maybe painful ; yet is so smoothed, and softened, and mollified, when raised by the finer arts, that it affords the high- est entertainment. * Mud vero perquam rarum ac memoria dignum, etiam suprema opera artificum, imperfectasque tabulas sicut, Inisr Abistides, Ttndakidas Nicomachi, Medeam Timomachi, & quam diximus Vekerem Apeilis, in majori admiratione esse quam perfecta. Quippe in iis lineamenta reli- qua, ipsacque cogitationes artificum spectantur, atque in lenocinio commen- dationis dolor est manus, cum id ageret, extincta. Lib. xxxv, cap. u. 240 ESSAY XXII. To confirm this reasoning, we may observe, that if the move- ments of the imagination be not predominant above those of the passion, a contrary effect follows ; and the former, being now subordinate, is converted into the latter, and still farther encreas- es the pain and affliction of the sufferer. Who could ever think of it as a good expedient for comforting an afflicted parent, to exaggerate, with all the force of elocution, the irreparable loss, which he has met with by the death of a favorite child ? The more power of imagination and expres- sion you here employ, the more you encrease his despair and affliction. The shame, confusion, and terror of Verres, no doubt, rose in proportion to the noble eloquence and vehemence of Cicero : So also did his pain and uneasiness. These former passions were too strong for the pleasure arising from the beauties of elocution ; and operated, though from the same principle, yet in a contrary manner, to the sympathy, compassion, and indigna- tion of the audience. Lord Clarendon, when he approaches towards the catastro- phe of the royal party, supposes, that his narration must then become infinitely disagreeable; and he hurries over the king's death without giving us one circumstance of it. He considers it as too horrid a scene to be contemplated with any satisfaction, or even without the utmost pain and aversion. He himself, as well as the readers of that age, were too deeply concerned in the events, and felt a pain from subjects, which an historian and a reader of another age would regard as the most pathetic and most interesting, and, by consequence, the most agreea- ble. An action, represented in tragedy, may be too bloody and atrocious. It may excite such movements of horror as will not soften into, pleasure; and the greatest energy of expression, OF TRAGEDY. 241 bestowed on descriptions of that nature, serves only to aug- ment our uneasiness. Such is that action represented in the Ambitious Stepmother, where a venerable old man, raised to the height of fury and despair, rushes against a pillar, and striking his head upon it, besmears it all over with mingled brains and gore. The English theatre abounds too much with such shocking images. Even the common sentiments of compassion require to be sof- tened by some agreeable affection, in order to give a thorough satisfaction to the audience. The mere suffering of plaintive virtue, under the triumphant tyranny and oppression of vice, forms a disagreeable spectacle, and is carefully avoided by all masters of the drama. In order to dismiss the audience with entire satisfaction and contentment, the virtue must either con- vert U^elf into a noble courageous despair, or the vice receive its proper punishment. Most painters appear in this light to have been very unhappy in their subjects. As they wrought much for churches and con- vents, they have chiefly represented such horrible subjects as crucifixions and martyrdoms, where nothing appears but tor- tures, wounds, executions, and passive suffering, without attr- action or affection. When they turned their pencil from this ghastly mythology, they had commonly recourse to Ovid, whose fictions, though passionate and agreeable, are scarcely natural or probable enough for painting. The same inversion of that principle, which is here insisted on, displays itself in common life, as in the effects of oratory and poetry. Raise so the subordinate passion that it becomes the predominant, it swallows up that affection which it before nourished and encreased. Too much jealousy extinguishes love: Too much difficulty renders us indifferent: Too much sickness and infirmity disgusts a selfish and unkind parent. II 2 242 ESSAY XXII. What so disagreeable as the dismal, gloomy, disastrous sto- ries, with which melancholy people entertain their companions ? The uneasy passion being there raised alone, unaccompanied with any spirit, genius, or eloquence, conveys a pure uneasi- ness, and is attended with nothing that can soften it into plea- sure or satisfaction. essay xxin. OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. THE great variety of Taste, as well as of opinion, which pre- vails in the world, is too obvious not to have fallen under every one's observation. Men of the most confined knowledge are able to remark a difference of taste in the narrow circle of their acquaintance, even where the persons have been educated under the same government, and have early imbibed the same preju- dices. But those, who can enlarge their view to contemplate distant nations and remote ages, are still more surprised at the great inconsistence and contrariety. We are apt to call bar- barous whatever departs widely from our own taste and appre- hension : But soon find the epithet of reproach retorted on us. And the highest arrogance and self-conceit is at last startled, on observing an equal assurance on all sides, and scruples, amidst such a contest of sentiment, to pronounce positively in its owij favour. As this variety of taste is obvious to the most careless enqui- rer ; so will it be found, on examination, to be still greater in real- ity than in appearance. The sentiments of men often differ with regard to beauty and deformity of all kinds, even while their general discourse is the same. There are certain terms in every language, which import blame, and others praise; and all men, who use the same tongue, must agree in their application of them. Every voice is united in applauding elegance, proprie- ty, simplicity, ^>irit in writing; and in blaming fustian, affecta- tion, coldness, and a false brilliancy: But when critics come to particulars, this seeming unanimity vanishes: and it is found, that they had affixed a very different meaning to their expres- 244 ESSAY XXIII. sions. In all matters of opinion and science, the case is oppo- site : Tiie difference among men is there oftener found to lie in generals than in particulars ; and to be less in reality than in appearance. An explanation of the terms commonly ends the controversy; and the disputants are surprised to find, that they had been quarrelling, while at bottom they agreed in their judg- ment. Those who found morality on sentiment, more than on reason, are inclined to comprehend ethics under the former observation, and to maintain, that, in all questions, which regard conduct and manners, the difference among men is really greater than at first sight it appears. It is indeed obvious, that writers of all nations and all ages concur in applauding justice, humanity, magnanimity, prudence, veracity; and in blaming the opposite qualities. Even poets and other authors, whose compositions are chiefly calculated to please the imagination, are yet found from Homer down to Fenelon, to inculcate the same moral precepts, and to bestow their applause and blame on the same virtues and vices. This great unanimity is usually ascribed to the influence of plain reason ; which in all these cases, maintains similar sen- timents in all men, and prevents those controversies, to which the abstract sciences are so much exposed. So far as the unani- mity is real, this account may be admitted as satisfactory: But we must also allow that some part of the seeming harmony in morals may be accounted for from the very nature of language. The word virtue, with its equivalent in every tongue, implies praise; as that office does blame : and no one, without the most obvious and grossest impropriety, could affix reproach to a term, which in general acceptation is understood in a good sense; or bestow applause, where the idiom requires disapprobation. Homer's general precepts, where he delivers any such, will never be controverted ; but it is obvious, that, when he draws particular pictures of manners, and represents heroism in Achil- les and prudence in Ulysses, he intermixes a much greater de- gree of ferocity in the former, and of cunning and fraud in the Or THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 245 latter, than Fenelon would admit of. The sage Ulysses, in the Greek poet seems to delight in lies and fictions, and often em- ploys them without any necessity or even advantage: But his more scrupulous son in the French epic writer, exposes himself to the most imminent perils, rather than depart from the most exact line of truth and veracity. The admirers and followers of the Alcoran insist on the ex- cellent moral precepts interspersed throughout that wild and ab- surd performance. But it is to be supposed, that the Arabic words, which correspond to the English, equity, justice, tem- perance, meekness, charity, were such as, from the constant use of that tongue, must always be taken in a good sense; and it would have argued the greatest ignorance, not of morals, but of language, to have mentioned them with any epithets, besides those of applause and approbation. But would we know, whether the pretended prophet had really attained a just sentiment of morals ? Let us attend to his narration ; and we shall soon find, that he bestows praise on such instances of treachery, inhumani- ty, cruelty, revenge, bigotry, as are utterly incompatible with civilised society. No steady rule of right seems there to be at- tended to; and every action is blamed or praised, so far only as it is beneficial or hurtful to the true believers. The merit of delivering true general precepts in ethics is in- deed very small. Whoever recommends any moral virtues, real- ly does no more than is implied in the terms themselves. That people, who invented the word charity, and used it in a good sense, inculcated more clearly and much more efficaciously, the precept, be charitable, than any pretended legislator or prophet, who should insert such a maxim in his writings. Of all ex- pressions, those, which, together with their own meaning, imply a degree either of blame or approbation, are the least liable to be perverted or mistaken. It is natural for us to seek a Standard of Taste ; a rule, by which the various sentiments of men may be reconciled; at least, 246 ESSAY XX111. a decision, afforded, confirming one sentiment, and condemning another. There is a species of philosophy, which cuts off all hopes of success in such an attempt, and represents the impossibility of ever attaining any standard of taste. The difference, it is said, is very wide between judgment and sentiment. All sentiment is right; because sentiment has a reference to nothing beyond itself, and is always real, wherever a man is conscious of it. But all determinations of the understanding are not right; because they have a reference to something beyond themselves, to wit, real matter of fact; and are not always conformable to that standard. Among a thousand different opinions which dif- ferent men may entertain of the same subject, there is one, and but one,' that is just and true; and the only difficulty is to fix and ascertain it. On the contrary, a thousand different sentiments, excited by the same object, are all right: Because no sentiment represents what is really in the object. It only murks a certain conformity or relation between the object and the organs or fa- culties of the mind ; and if that conformity did not really exist, the sentiment could never possibly have being. Beauty is no quality in things themselves: It exists merely in the mind uhich contemplates them; and each mind perceives a different bauty. One person may even perceive deformity, where another is sen- sible of beauty: and every individual ought to acquiesce in his own sentiment, without pretending to regulate those of others. To seek the real beauty, or real deformity, is as fruitless an en- quiry, as to pretend to ascertain the real sweet or the real bit- ter. According to the disposition of the organs, the same object may be both sweet and bitter; and the proverb has justly deter- mined it to be fruitless to dispute concerning tastes. It is very natural, and even quite necessary, to extend this axiom to men- tal, as well as bodily taste; and thus common sense, which is so often at variance with philosophy, especially with the sceptical kind, is found, in one instance at least to agree in pronouncing the same decision. OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 24r But though this axiom, by passing into a proverb, seems to have attained the sanction of common sense; there is certainly a spe- cies of common sense which opposes it, at least serves to modify and restrain it. Whoever would assert an equality of genius and elegance between Ogilby and Milton, or Bukyan and Addison, would be thought to defend no less an extravagance than if he had maintained a mole-hill to be as high as Teneriffe, or a pond as extensive as the ocean. Though there may be found persons, who give the preference to the former authors ; no one pays attention to such a taste; and we pronounce with- out scruple the sentiment of these pretended critics to be absurd and ridiculous. The principle of the natural equality of tastes is then totally forgot, and while we admit it on some occasions, where the objects seem near an equality, it appears an extrava- gant paradox, or rather a palpable absurdity, where objects so disproportioned are compared together. It is evident that none of the rules of composition are fixed by reasonings a priori, or can be esteemed abstract conclusions of the understanding, from comparing those habitudes and relations of ideas, which are eternal and immutable. Their foundation is the same with that of all the practical sciences, experience ; nor are they any thing but general observations, concerning what has been universally found to please in all countries and in all ages. Many of the beauties of poetry and even of eloquence are founded on falsehood and fiction, on hyperboles, metaphors, and an abuse or perversion of terms from their natural meaning. To check the sallies of the imagination, and to reduce every expres- sion to geometrical truth and exactness, would be the most con- trary to the laws of criticism ; because it would produce a work, which, by universal experience, has been found the most insipid and disagreeable. But though poetry can never submit to ex- act truth, it must be confined by rules of art, discovered to the author either by genius or observation. If some negligent or ir- regular writers have pleased, they have not pleased by their transgressions of rule or order, but in spite of these transgres- 248 ESSAY XXIII. sions: They have possessed other beauties,which were conform- able to just criticism; and the force of these beauties has been able to overpower censure, and give the mind a satisfaction supe- rior to the disgust arising from the blemishes. Ariosto pleases; but not by his monstrous and improbable fictions, by his bizarre mixture of the serious and comic styles, by the want of coherence in his stories, or by the continual interruptions of hie narration. He charms by the force and clearness of his expression, by the readi- ness and variety of his inventions, and by his natural pictures of the passions, especially those of the gay and amorous kind : And however his faults may diminish our satisfaction, they are not able entirely to destroy it. Did our pleasure really arise from those parts of his poem, which we denominate faults, this would be no objection to criticism in general: It would only be an objection to those particular rules of criticism, which would establish such circumstances to be faults, and would represent them as univer- sally blamable. If they are found to please, they cannot be faults; let the pleasure, which they produce, be ever so unex- pected and unaccountable. But though all the general rules of art are founded only on experience and on the observation of the common sentiments of human nature, we must not imagine, that, on every occasion, the feelings of men will be conformable to these rules. Those finer emotions of the mind are of a very tender and delicate na- ture, and require the concurrence of many favourable circum- stances to make them play with facility and exactness, accord- ing to their general and established principles. The least exte- rior hindrance to such small springs, or the least internal disor- der, disturbs their motion, and confounds the operation of the whole machine. When we would make an experiment of this nature, and would try the force of any beauty or deformity, we must choose with care a proper time and place, and bring the fancy to a suitable situation and disposition. A perfect serenity of mind, a recollection of thought, a due attention to the object; if any of these circumstances be wanting, our experiment will OF THE STANDARD OF TASTH. 249 be fallacious, and we shall be unable to judge of the catholic and universal beauty. The relation, which nature has placed between the form and the sentiment, will at least be more ob- scure ; and it will require greater accuracy to trace and discern it. We shall be able to ascertain its influence not so much from the operation of each particular beauty, as from the dura- ble admiration, which attends those works, that have survived all the caprices of mode and fashion, all the mistakes of igno- rance and envy. The same Homer, who pleased at Athens and Rome two thousand years ago, is still admired at Paris and at London. All the changes of climate, government, religion, and language, have not been able to obscure his glory. Authority or prejudice may give a temporary vogue to a bad poet or orator; but his reputation will never be durable or general. When his compo- sitions are examined by posterity or by foreigners, the enchant- ment is dissipated, and his faults appear in their true colours. On the contrary, a real genius, the longer his works endure, and the more wide they are spread, the more sincere is the admira- tion which he meets with. Envy and jealousy have too much place in a narrow circle; and even familiar acquaintance with his person may diminish the applause due to his performances: But when these obstructions are removed, the beauties, which are naturally fitted to excite agreeable sentiments, immediately display their energy; and while the world endures, they main- tain their authority over the minds of men. It appears then, that, amidst all the variety and caprice of taste, there are certain general principles of approbation or blame, whose influence a careful eye may trace in all operations of the mind. Some particular forms or qualities, from the ori- ginal structure of the internal fabric, are calculated to please, and others to displease; and if they fail of their effect in any particular instance, it is from some apparent defect or imperfec- tion in the organ. \ man in a fever would not in«ist on hi<* 12 250 ESSAY XXIII. palate as able to decide concerning flavours; nor would one, affected with the jaundice, pretend to give a verdict with regard to colours. In each creature, there is a sound and a defective state; and the former alone can be supposed to afford us a true standard of taste and sentiment. If, in the sound state of the organ, there be an entire or a considerable uniformity of senti- ment among men, we may thence derive an idea of the perfect beauty; in like manner as the appearance of objects in day-light, to the eye of a man in health, is denominated their true and real colour, even while colour is allowed to be merely a phantasm of the senses. Many and frequent are the defects in the internal organs, which prevent or weaken the influence of those general princi- ples, on which depends our sentiment of beauty or deformity. Though some objects, by the structure of the mind, be naturally calculated to give pleasure, it is not to be expected, that in eve- ry individual the pleasure will be equally felt. Particular inci- dents and situations occur, which either throw a false light on the objects, or hinder the true from conveying to the imagina- tion the proper sentiment and perception. One obvious eause, why many feel not the proper sentiment of beauty, is the want of that delicacy of imagination, which is requisite to convey a sensibility of those finer emotions. This delicacy every one pretends to: Every one talks of it; and would reduce every kind of taste or sentiment to its standard. But as our intention in this essay is to mingle some light of the understanding with the feelings of sentiment, it will be proper to give a more accurate definition of delicacy, than has hitherto been attempted. And not to draw our philosophy from too pro- found a source, we shall have recourse to a noted story in Don Quixote. It is with good reason, says Sancho to the squire with the great nose, that I pretend to have a judgment in wine: This OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 251 is a quality hereditary in our family. Two of my kinsmen were once called to give their opinion of a hogshead, which was sup- posed to be excellent, being old and of a good vintage. One of them tastes it; considers it; and after mature reflection pro- nounces the wine to be good, were it not for a small taste of leather, which he perceived in it. The other, after using the same precautions, gives also his verdict in favour of the wine; but with the reserve of a taste of iron, which he could easily distinguish. You cannot imagine how much they were both ridiculed for their judgment. But who laughed in the end ? On emptying the hogshead, there was found at the bottom, an old key with a leathern thong tied to it. The great resemblance between mental and bodily taste will easily teach us to apply this story. Though it be certain,' that beauty and deformity, more than sweet and bitter, are not qua- lities in objects, but belong entirely to the sentiment, internal or Eternal; it must be allowed, that there are certain qualities in objects, which are fitted by nature to produce those particu- lar feelings. Now as these qualities may be found in a small degree, or may be mixed and confounded with each other, it often happens, that the taste is not affected with such minute qualities, or is not able to distinguish all the particular flavours, amidst the disorder, in which they are presented. Where the organs are so fine, as to allow nothing to escape them; and at the same time so exact as to perceive every ingredient in the composition: This we call delicacy of taste, whether we employ these terms in the literal or metaphorical sense. Here then the general rules of beauty are of use ; being drawn from establish- ed models, and from the observation of what pleases or dis- pleases, when presented singly and in a high degree: And if the same qualities, in a continued composition and in a smaller degree, affect not the organs with a sensible delight or uneasi- ness, we exclude the person from all pretentions to this delica- cy. To produce these general rules or avowed patterns of com position is like finding the key with the leathern thong: which 252 ESSAY XX1I1. justified the verdict of Sancho's kinsmen, and confounded those pretended judges who had condemned them. Though the hogs- head had never been emptied, the taste of the one was still equally delicate, and that of the other equally dull and languid: But it would have been more difficult to have proved the supe- riority of the former, to the conviction of every by-stander. In like manner, though the beauties of writing had never been me- thodized, or reduced to general principles ; though no excellent models had ever been acknowledged; the different degrees of taste would still have subsisted, and the judgment of one man been preferable to that of another; but it would not have been so easy to silence the bad critic, who might always insist upon his particular sentiment, and refuse to submit to his antagonist. But when we show him an avowed principle of art; when we illustrate this principle by examples, whose operation, from his own particular taste, he acknowledges to be conformable to the principle; when we prove, that the same principle may be ap- plied to the present case, where he did not perceive or feel its influence: He must conclude, upon the whole that the fault lies in himself, and that he wants the delicacy, which is requisite to make him sensible of every beauty and every blemish, in any composition or discourse. It is acknowledged to be the perfection of every sense or faculty, to perceive with exactness its most minute objects, and allow nothing to escape its notice and observation. The small- er the objects are, which become sensible to the eye, the finer is that organ, and the more elaborate its make and composition. A good palate is not tried by strong flavours ; but by a mixture of small ingredients, where we are still sensible of each part, not- withstanding its minuteness and its confusion with the rest. In like manner, a quick and acute perception of beauty and defor- mity must be the perfection of our mental taste ; nor can a man be satisfied with himself while he suspects, that any excellence or blemish in a discourse has passed him unobserved. In this case, the perfection of the man, and the perfection of the sense OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 253 or feeling, are found to be united. A very delicate palate, on many occasions, may be a great inconvenience both to a man himself and to his friends: But a delicate taste of wit or beauty must always be a desirable quality; because it is the source of all the finest and most innocent enjoyments, of which human nature is susceptible. In this decision the sentiments of all mankind are agreed. Wherever you can ascertain a delica- cy of taste, it is sure to meet with approbation; and the best way of ascertaining it is to appeal to those models and princi- ples, which have been established by the uniform consent and experience of nations and ages. But though there be naturally a wide difference in point of delicacy between one person and another, nothing tends further to encrease and improve this talent, than practice in a particu- lar art, and the frequent survey or contemplation of a particular species of beauty. When objects of any kind are first present- ed to the eye or imagination, the sentiment, which attends them, is obscure and confused; and the mind is, in a great measure, incapable of pronouncing concerning their merits or defects. The taste cannot perceive the several excellencies of the perfor- mance ; much less distinguish the particular character of each excellency, and ascertain its quality and degree. If it pronounce the whole in general to be beautiful or deformed, it is the ut- most that can be expected; and even this, judgment, a person, so unpractised, will be apt to deliver with great hesitation and re- serve. But allow him to acquire experience in those objects, his feeling becomes more exact and nice : He not only perceives the beauties and defects of each part, but marks the distinguish- ing species of each quality, and assigns it suitable praise or blame. A clear and distinct sentiment attends him through the whole survey of the objects ; and he discerns that very degree and kind of approbation or displeasure, which each part is na- turally fitted to produce. The mist dissipates, which seemed fermerly to hang over the object : The organ acquires greater perfection in its operations ; and can pronounce, without dan- 254 KSSAY XXIll. ger of mistake, concerning the merits of every performance. In a word, the same address and dexterity, which practice gives to the execution of any work, is acquired by the same means, in the judging of it. So advantageous is practice to the discernment of beauty, that, before we can give judgment on any work of importance, it will even be requisite, that that very individual performance be more than once perused by us, and be surveyed in different lights with attention and deliberation. There is a flutter or hur- ry of thought which, attends the first perusal of any piece, and which confounds the genuine sentiment of beauty. The rela- tion of the parts is not discerned : The true characters of style are little distinguished : The several perfections and defects seem wrapped up in a species of confusion, and present them- selves indistinctly to the imagination. Not to mention, that there is a species of beauty, which, as it is florid and superficial, pleases at first: but being found incompatible with a just ex- pression either of reason or passion, soon palls upon the taste, and is then rejected with disdain, at least rated at a much low- er value. It is impossible to continue in the practice of contemplating any order of beauty, without being frequently obliged to form comparisons between the several species and degrees of ex- cellence, and estimating their proportion to each other. A man, who has had no opportunity of comparing the different kinds of beauty, is indeed totally unqualified to pronounce an opinion with regard to any object presented to him. By com- parison alone we fix the epithets of praise or blame, and learn how to assign the due degree of each. The coarsest daubing contains a certain lustre of colours and exactness of imitation, which are so far beauties, and would affect the mind of a pea- sant or Indian with the highest admiration. The most vulgar ballads are not entirely destitute of harmony or nature; and none but a person, familiarized to superior beauties, would pro- OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 255- nounce their numbers harsh, or narration uninteresting. A great inferiority of beauty gives pain to a person conversant in the highest excellence of the kind, and is for that reason pro- nounced a deformity : As the most finished object, with which we are acquainted, is naturally supposed to have reached the pinnacle of perfection, and to be entitled to the highest applause. One accustomed to see, and examine, and weigh the several performances, admired in different ages and nations, can alone rate the merits of a work exhibited to his view, and assign its proper rank among the productions of genius. But to enable a critic the more fully to execute this undertak- ing, he must preserve his mind free from all prejudice, and al- low nothing to enter into his consideration, but the very object which is submitted to his examination. We may observe, that every work of art, in order to produce its due effect on the mind, must be surveyed in a certain point of view, and cannot be fully relished by persons, whose situation, real or imaginary, is not conformable to that which is required by the performance. An orator addresses himself to a particular audience, and must have a regard to their particular genius, interests, opinions, passions, and prejudices; otherwise he hopes in vain to govern their reso- lutions, and inflame their affections. Should they even have en- tertained some prepossessions against him, however unreasona- ble, he must not overlook this disadvantage; but, before he en- ters upon the subject, must endeavour to conciliate their affec- tion, and acquire their good graces. A critic of a different age or nation, who should peruse this discourse, must have all these circumstances in his eye, and must place himself in the same situation as the audience, in order to form a true judgment of the oration. In like manner, when any work is addressed to the public, though I should have a friendship or enmity with the au- thor, I must depart from this situation : and considering myself as a man in general, forget if possible, my individual being and my peculiar circumstances. A person influenced by prejudice, complies not with this condition : but obstinately maintains his 256 ESSAY XXIII. natural position, without placing himself in that point of view, which the performance supposes. If the work be addressed to persons of a different age or nation, he makes no allowance for their peculiar views and prejudices; but, full of the manners of his own age and country, rashly condemns what seemed admira- ble in the eyes of those for whom alone the discourse was calcu- lated. If the work be executed for the public, he never suffici- ently enlarges his comprehension, or forgets his interest as a friend or enemy, as a rival or commentator. By this means, his sentiments are perverted : nor have the same beauties and ble- mishes the same influence upon him, as if he had imposed a pro- per violence on his imagination, and had forgotten himself for a moment. So far his taste evidently departs from the true stan- dard ; and of consequence loses all credit and authority. It is well known, that in all questions, submitted to the un- derstanding, prejudice is destructive of sound judgment, and perverts all operations of the intellectual faculties : It is no less contrary to good taste; nor has it less influence to corrupt our sentiment of beauty. It belongs to good sense to check its influ- ence in both cases; and in this respect, as well as in many others, reason, if not an essential part of taste, is at least requi- site to the operations of this latter faculty. In all the nobler productions of genius, there is a mutual relation and correspon- dence of parts; nor can either the beauties or blemishes be per- ceived by him, whose thought is not capacious enough to com- prehend all those parts, and compare them with each other, iu order to perceive the consistence and uniformity of the whole. Every work of art has also a certain end or purpose, for which it is calculated ; and is to be deemed more or less perfect, as it is mere or less fitted to attain this end. The object of eloquence is to persuade, of history to instruct, of poetry to please by means of the passions and the imagination. These ends we must carry constantly in our view, when we peruse any perform- ance* and we must be able to judge how far the means employ- ed are adapted to their respective purposes. Besides, every OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 259 kind of composition, even the most poetical, is nothing but a chain of propositions and reasonings; not always, indeed, the justest and most exact, but still plausible and specious, however disguised by the colouring of the imagination. The persons in- troduced in tragedy and epic poetry, must be represented as reasoning, and thinking, and concluding, and acting, suitably to their character and circumstances; and without judgment, as well as taste and invention, a poet can never hope to succeed in so delicate an undertaking. Not to mention, that the same ex- cellence of faculties which contributes to the improvement of reason, the same clearness of conception, the same exactness of distinction, the same vivacity of apprehension, are essential to the operations of true taste, and are its infallible concomitants. It seldom, or never happens, that a man of sense, who has ex- perience in any art, cannot judge of its beauty; and it is no less rare to meet with a man who has a just taste without a sound un- derstanding. Thus, though the principles of taste be universal, and nearly, if not entirely the same in all men; yet few are qualified to give judgment on any work of art, or establish their own sentiments as the standard of beauty. The organs of internal sensation are seldom so perfect as to allow the general principles their full play, and produce a feeling correspondent to those principles. They either labour under some defect, or are vitiated by some disorder; and by that means, excite a sentiment, which may be pronounced erroneous. When the critic has no delicacy, he judges without any distinction, and is only affectedly the grosser and more palpable qualities of the object: The finer touches pass unnoticed and disregarded. Where he is not aided by practice, his verdict is attended with confusion and hesitation. Where no comparison has been employed, the most frivolous beauties, such as rather merit the name of defects, are the object of his ad- miration. Where he lies under the influence of prejudice, all his natural sentiments are perverted. Where good sense is wanting, he is not qualified to discern the beauties of design and K2 260 ESSAY XXIII. reasoning, which are the highest and most excellent. Under some or other 'of these imperfections, the generality of men la- bour ; and hence a true judge in the finer arts is observed, even during the most polished ages, to be so rare a character: Strong sense, united to delicate sentiment, improved by practice, per- fected by comparison, and cleared of all prejudice, can alone en- title critics to this valuable character; and the joint verdict of such, wherever they are to be found, is the true standard of taste and beauty. But where are such critics to be found ? By what marks are they to be known ? How distinguish them from pretenders ? These questions are embarrassing; and seem to throw us back into the same uncertainty, from which, during the course of this essay, we have endeavoured to extricate ourselves. * But if we consider the matter aright, these are questions of fact, not of sentiment. Whether any particular person be endowed with good sense and a delicate imagination, free from prejudice, may often be the subject of dispute, and be liable to great dis- cussion and enquiry: But that such a character is valuable and estimable will be agreed in by all mankind. Where these doubts occur, men can do no more than in other disputable questions, which are submitted to the understanding: They must produce the best arguments, that their invention suggests to them ; they must acknowledge a true and decisive standard to exist some- where, to wit, real existence and matter of fact; and they must have indulgence to such as differ from them in their appeals te this standard. It is sufficient for our present purpose, if we have proved, that the taste of all individuals is not upon an equal footing, and that some men in general, however difficult to be particularly pitched upon, will be acknowledged by universal sentiment to have a preference above others. But in reality the difficulty of finding, even in particulars, the standard of taste, is not so great as it is represented. Though in speculation, we may readily avow a certain criterion in sci- OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 261 ence and deny it in sentiment, the matter is found in practice to be much more hard to ascertain in the former case than in the latter. Theories of abstract philosophy, systems of profound theology, have prevailed during one age: In a successive period, these have been universally exploded: Their absurdity has been detected: Other theories and systems have supplied their place., which again gave place to their successors: And nothing has been experienced more liable to the revolutions of chance and fashion than these pretended decisions of sci »ice. The case is not the same with the beauties of eloquence and poetry. Just expressions of passion and nature are sure, after a little time, to gain public applause, which they maintain for ever. Aristotle, and Plato, and Epicurus and Descartes, may successively yield to each other: But Terence and Virgil maintain an uni- versal, undisputed empire over the minds of men. The abstract philosophy of Cicero has lost its credit: The vehemence of his oratory is still the object of our admiration. Though men of delicate taste be rare, they are easily to be distinguished in society, by the soundness of their understanding and the superiority of their faculties above the rest of mankind. The ascendant, which they acquire, gives a prevalence to that lively approbation, with which they receive any productions of genius and renders it generally predominant. Many men, when left to themselves, have but a faint and dubious perception of beauty, who yet are capable of relishing any fine stroke, which is pointed out to them. Every convert to the admiration of the real poet or orator is the cause of some new conversion. And though prejudices may prevail for a time, they never unite in celebrating any rival to the true genius, but yield at last to the force of nature and just sentiment. Thus, though a civilized nation may easily be mistaken in the choice of their admired phi- losopher, they never have been found long to err, in their affec- tion for a favourite epic or tragic author. But notwithstanding all our endeavours to fix a standard of taste, and reconcile the discordant apprehensions of men, there 262 ESSAY XXIII. still remain two sources of variation, which are not sufficient in- deed to confound all the boundaries of beauty and deformity, but will often serve to produce a difference in the degrees of our ap- probation or blame. The one is the different humours of parti- cular men; the other, the particular manners and opinions of our age and country. The general principles of taste are uni- form in human nature: Where men vary in their judgments, some defect or perversion in the faculties may commonly be re- marked ; proceeding either from prejudice, from want of prac- tice, or want of delicacy; and there is just reason for approving one taste, and condemning another. But where there is such a diversity in the internal frame or external situation as is entire- ly blameless on both sides, and leaves no room to give one the preference above the other; in that case a certain degree of di- versity in judgment is unavoidable, and we seek in vain for a standard, by which we can reconcile the contrary sentiments. A young man, whose passions are warm, will be more sensi- bly touched with amorous and tender images, than a man more advanced in years, who takes pleasure in wise, philosophical re- flections concerning the conduct of life and moderation of the passions. At twenty, Ovid may be the favourite author ; Ho- race at forty ; and perhaps Tacitus at fifty. Vainly would we, in such cases, endeavour to enter into the sentiments of others, and divest ourselves of those propensities, which are na- tural to us. We choose our favourite author as we do our friend, from a conformity of humour and disposition. Mirth or pas- sion, sentiment or reflection ; whichever of these most predo- minates in our temper, it gives us a peculiar sympathy with the writer who resembles us. One person is more pleased with the sublime ; another with the tender; a third with raillery. One has a strong sensibility to blemishes, and is extremely studious of correctness : Another has a more lively feeling of beauties, and pardons twenty absur- dities and defects for one elevated or pathetic stroke. The ear of this man is entirely turned towards conciseness and energy j OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 263 that man is delighted with a copious, rich, and harmonious expres- sion. Simplicity is affected by one ; ornament by another. Comedy, tragedy, satire, odes, have each its partizans, who prefer that particular species of writing to all others. It is plainly an error in a critic, to confine his approbation to one species or style of writing, and condemn all the rest. But it is almost impossible not to feel a predilection for that which suits our particular turn and disposition. Such preferences are in- nocent and unavoidable, and can never reasonably be the object of dispute, because there is no standard, by which they can be decided. For a like reason, we are more pleased, in the course of our reading, with pictures and characters, that resemble objects which are found in our own age or, country, than with those which describe a different set of customs. It is not without some effort, that we reconcile ourselves to the simplicity of an- cient manners, and behold princesses carrying water from the spring, and kings and heroes dressing their own victuals. We may allow in general, that the representation of such manners is no fault in the author, nor deformity in the piece ; but we are not so sensibly touched with them. For this reason, come- dy is not easily transferred from one age or nation to another. A Frenchman or Englishman is not pleassd with the Andria of Terence, or Clitia of Machiavel j where the fine lady, upon whom all the play turns, never once appears to the spec- tators, but is always kept behind the scenes, suitably to the re- served humour of the ancient Greeks and modern Italians. A man of learning and reflection can make allowance for these peculiarities of manners; but a common audience can never divest themselves so far of their usual ideas and sentiments, as to relish pictures which no wise resemble them. But here there occurs a reflection, which may, perhaps, be use- ful in examining the celebrated controversy concerning ancient and modern learning ; where we often find the one side excus- 264 ESSAY XXIII. ing any seeming absurdity in the ancients from the manners of the age, and the other refusing to admit this excuse, or at least, admitting it only as an apology for the author, not for the per- formance. In my opinion, the proper boundaries in this subject have seldom been fixed between the contending parties. Where any innocent peculiarities of manners are represented, such as those above mentioned, they ought certainly to be admitted ; and a man, who is shocked with them, gives an evident proof of false delicacy and refinement. The poet's monument more dura- able than brass, must fall to the ground like common brick or clay, were men to make no allowance for the continual revolu- tions of manners and customs, and would admit of nothing but what was suitable to the prevailing fashion. Must we throw aside the pictures of our ancestors, because of their ruffs and fardinffa'o:- ? But where the ideas of morality and decency al- ter from one age to another, and where vicious manners are de- scribed, without being marked with the proper characters of blame and disapprobation : this must be allowed to disfigure the poem, and to be a real deformity. I cannot, nor is it proper I should, enter into such sentiments; and however I may excuse the poet, on account of the manners of his age, I never can re- lish the composition. The want of humanity and of decency, so conspicuous in the characters drawn by several of the ancient poets, even sometimes by Homer and the Greek tragedians, diminishes considerably the merit of their noble performances, and gives modern authors an advantage over them. We are not interested in the fortunes and sentiments of such rough he- roes : We are displeased to find the limits of vice and virtue so much confounded : And whatever indulgence we may give to the writer on account of his prejudices, we cannot pre- vail on ourselves to enter into his sentiments, or bear an affec- tion to characters, which we plainly discover to be blameable. The case is not the same with moral principles, as with specu- lative opinions of any kind. These are in continual flux and revolution. The son embraces a different system from the father. OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 265 Nay, there scarcely is any man, who can boast of great constan- cy and uniformity in this particular. Whatever speculative er- rors may be found in the polite writings of any age or country, they -detract but little from the value of those compositions. There needs but a certain turn of thought or imagination to make us enter into all the opinions, which then prevailed, and relish the sentiments or conclusions derived from them. But a very violent effort is requisite to change our judgment of man- ners, and excite sentiments of approbation or blame, love or hatred, different from those to which the mind from long custom has been familiarized. And where a man is confident of the rectitude of that moral standard, by which he judges, he is justly jealous of it, and will not pervert the sentiments of his heart for a moment, in complaisance to any writer whatsoever. Of all speculative errors, those which regard religion are the most excusable in compositions of genius ; nor is it ever permitted to judge of the civility or wisdom of any people, or even of single persons, by the grossness or refinement of their theological prin- ciples. The same good sense, that directs men in the ordinary occurrences of life, is not hearkened to in religious matters, which are supposed to be placed altogether above the cogni- zance of human reason. On this account, all the absurdities of the pagan system of theology must be overlooked by every critic, who would pretend to form a just notion of ancient poetry ; and our posterity, in their turn, must have the same indulgence to their forefathers. No religious principles can ever be imputed as a fault to any poet, while they remain merely principles, and take not such strong possession of his heart, as to lay him under the imputation of bigotry or superstition. Where that happens, they confound the sentiments of morality, and alter the natural boundaries of vice and virtue. They are therefore eternal blem- ishes, according to the principle above mentioned ; nor are the prejudices and false opinions of the age sufficient to justify them. 266 ESSAY XXIII. It is essential to the Roman catholic religion to inspire a vio- lent hatred of every other worship, and to represent all'pagans, mahometans, and heretics as the objects of divine wrath and ven- geance. Such sentiments, though they are in reality very blam- able, are considered as virtues by the zealots of that commu- nion, and are represented in their tragedies and epic poems as a kind of divine heroism. This bigotry has disfigured two very fine tragedies of the French theatre, Polieucte and Athalia; where an intemperate zeal for particular modes of worship is «et off with all the pomp imaginable, and forms the pre- dominant character of the heroes. " What is this," says the sublime Joad to Jos abet, finding her in discourse with Mathan, the priest of Baal, "Does the daughter of David " speak to this traitor? «Are you not afraid, lest the earth " should open and pour forth flames to devour you both P Or " lest these holy walls should fall and crush you together ? " What is his purpose ? Why comes that enemy of God hither " to poison the air, which we breathe, with his horrid presence ?" Such sentiments are received with great applause on the theatre of Paris; but at London the spectators would be full as much pleased to hear Achilles tell Agamemnon, that he was a dog in his forehead, and a deer in his heart, or Jupiter threaten Juno with a sound drubbing, if she will not be quiet. Religious principles are also a blemish in any polite compo- sition, when they rise up to superstition, and intrude themselves into every sentiment, however remote from any connection with religion. It is no excuse for the poet, that the customs of his country had burthened life with so many religious ceremonies and observances, that no part of it was exempt from that yoke. It must for ever be ridiculous in Petrarch to compare his mis- tress, Laura, to Jesus Christ. Nor is it less ridiculous in that agreeable libertine, Boccace, very seriously to give thanks to God Almighty and the ladies, for their assistance in defend- ing him against his enemies. PART II. ESSAY I. OF COMMERCE. THE greater part ofmankind may be divided into two class- es ; that of shallow thinkers, who fall short of the truth; and that of abstruse thinkers, who go beyond it. The latter class are by far the most rare : and I may add, by far the most useful and valuable. They suggest hints, at least, and start difficul- ties, which they want, perhaps, skill to pursue; but which may produce fine discoveries, when handled by men who have a more just way of thinking. At worst, what they say is uncommon; and if it should cost some pains to comprehend it, one has, how- ever, the pleasure of hearing something that is new. An author is little to be valued, who tells us nothing but what we can learn from every coffeehouse conversation, All people of shallow thought are apt to decry even those of solid understanding, as abstruse thinkers, and metaphysicians, and refiners; and never will allow any thing to be just which is beyond their own weak conceptions. There are some cases, I own, where an extraordinary refinement affords a strong pre- sumption of falsehood, and where no reasoning is to be trusted but what is natural and easy. When a man deliberates con- cerning his conduct in any particular affair, and forms schemes in politics, trade, teconomy,' or any business in life, he never ought to draw his arguments too fine, or connect too long a L2 268 ESSAY I. chain of consequences together. Something is sure to happen, that will disconcert his reasoning, and produce an event differ- ent from what he expected. But when we reason upon general subjects, one may justly affirm, that our speculations can scarce- ly ever be too fine, provided they be just; and that the differ- ence between a common man and^ a man of genius is chiefly seen in the shallowness or depth of the principles upon which they proceed. General reasonings seem intricate, merely be- cause they are general; nor is it easy for the bulk of mankind to distinguish, in a great number of particulars, that common circumstance in which they all agree, or to extract it, pure and unmixed, from the other superfluous circumstances. Every judgment or conclusion, with them, is particular. They cannot enlarge their view to those universal propositions, which com- prehend under them an infinite number of individuals, and in- clude a whole science in a single theorem. Their eye" is con- founded with such an extensive prospect; and the conclusions^, derived from it, even though clearly expressed, seem intricate and obscure. But however intricate they may seem, it is cer- tain, that general principles, if just and sound, must always pre- vail in the general course of things, though they may fail in par- ticular cases; and it is the chief business of philosophers to re- gard the general course of things. I may add, that it is also the chief business of politicians; especially in the domestic govern- ment of the state, where the public good, which is, or ought to be their object, depends on the concurrence of a multitude of causes; not, as in foreign politics, on accidents and chances, and the caprices of a few persons. This therefore makes the difference between particular deliberations and general reason- ings, and renders subtility and refinement much more suitable to the latter than to the former. I thought this introduction necessary before the following .dis- courses on commerce, money, interest, balance of trade, <§"c. where, perhaps, there will occur some principles which are un- common, and which may seem too refined and subtile for such OF COMMERCE. S69 Vulgar subjects* If false, let them be rejected : But no one ought to entertain a prejudice against them, merely because they are out of the common road. The greatness of a state, and the happiness of its subjects, how independent soever they may be supposed in some respects, are commonly allowed to be inseparable with regard to commerce ; and as private men receive greater security, in the possession of their trade and riches, from the power of the public, so the pub- lic, becomes powerful in proportion to the opulence and exten- sive commerce of private men, This maxim is true, in general; though I cannot forbear thinking, that it may possibly admit of exceptions, and that we often establish it with too little reserve and limitation. There may be some circumstances, where the commerce and riches and luxury of individuals, instead of addl- ing strength to the public, will serve only to thin ita armies, and diminish its authority among the neighbouring nations. Man is a very variable being, and susceptible of many different opinions, principles, and rules of conduct. What may be true, while he adheres to one way of thinking, will be found false, when he has embraced an opposite set of manners and opinions. The bulk of every state may be divided into husbandmen and manufacturers. The former are employed in the culture of the land ; the latter works up the materials furnished by the former, into all the commodities which are necessary or ornamental to hu- man life. As soon as men quit their savage state, where they live chiefly by hunting and fishing, they must fall into these two class- es, though the arts of agriculture employ at first the most nume- rous part of the society.* Time and experience improve so much • Mons. Melon, in his political essay on commerce-, asserts, that even at present, if you divide France into 20 parts, 16 are labourers or peasants two only partizans ; one belonging to the law, church, and military ; aad one merchants, financiers, and bourgeois. This calculation is certainly very erroneous. In France, England, and indeed most parts of Europe, half of the inhabitants live in cities ; and even of those who live in the country, a great number are artizans, perhaps above a third, 270 ESSAY I. these arts, that the land may easily maintain a much a greater number of men, than those who are immediately employed in its culture, or who furnish the more necessary manufactures of such as are so employed. If these superfluous hands apply themselves to the finer arts, which are commonly denominated the arts of luxury, they add to the happiness of the state; since they afford to many the op- portunity of receiving enjoyments, with which they would other- wise have been unacquainted. But may not another scheme be proposed for the employment of these superfluous hands ? May not the sovereign lay claim to them, and employ them in fleets and armies, to encrease the dominions of the state abroad, and spread its fame over distant nations ? It is certain that the fewer desires and wants are found in the proprietors and la- bourers of land, the fewer hands do they employ; and conse- quently the superfluities of the land, instead of maintaining tradesmen and manufacturers, may support fleets and armies to a much greater extent, than where a great many arts are required to minister to the luxury of particular persons. Here therefore seems to be a kind of opposition between the greatness of the state and the happiness of the subject. A state is never greater than when all its superfluous hands are employed in the service of the public. The ease and convenience pf private persons re- quire, that these hands should be employed in their service. The one can never be satisfied, but at the expence of the other. As the ambition pf the sovereign must entrench on the luxury of individuals, so the luxury of individuals must diminish the force, and check the ambition of the sovereign. Nor is this reasoning merely chimerical ; but is founded on history and experience. The republic of Sparta was certainly more powerful than any state now in the world, consisting of an equal number of people ; and this was owing entirely to the want of commerce and luxury. The Helotes were the labour- ers : The Spartans were the soldiers or gentlemen. It is evi- OF COMMERCE. 271 denf, that the labour of the Helotes could not have maintained so great a number of Spartans, had these latter lived in ease and delicacy, and given employment to a great variety of trades and manufactures. The like policy may be remarked in Romks And indeed, throughout all ancient history, it is observable, that the smallest republics raised and maintained greater armies. than states consisting of triple the number of inhabitants, are able to support at present. It is computed, that, in all Euro- pean nations, the proportion between soldiers and people does not exceed one to a hundred. But we read, that the city of Rome alone, with its small territory, raised and maintained, in early times, ten legions against the Latins. Athens, the whole of whose dominions was not larger than Yorks-hire, sent to the expedition against Sicily near forty thousand men.* Dio- sysius the elder, it is said, maintained a standing army of a hun- dred thousand foot and ten thousand horse, besides a large fleet of four hundred sail ;* though his territories extended no far- ther than the city of Syracuse, about a third of the island of Sicily, and some sea-port towns and garrisons on the coast of Italy and Illyricum. It is true, the ancient armies, in time of war, subsisted much upon plunder: but did not the enemy plunder in their turn ? which was a more ruinous way of levying a tax, than any other that could be devised. In short, no proba- ble reason can be assigned for the great power of the more ancient states above the modern, but their want of com- merce and luxury. Few artizans were maintained by the labour of the farmers, and therefore more soldiers might live upon it. Livy says, that Rome, in his time, would find it diffi- cult to raise as large an army as that which, in her early days, she sent out against the Gauls and Latins.J Instead of those soldiers who fought for liberty and empire in Camil- ♦ Thtjctdides, lib. vii. ■j- Diod. Sic. lib. vii. This account, I own, is somewhat suspicious, not to say worse ; chiefly because this army was not composed of citizens, but of mercenary forces. * Tin Livii, lib. vii. cap. 24. " Adeo in qux laboramus," says he, sola *,' crevimus, divitias luxuriemque." 2?2 ESSAY I. lus's time, there were, in Augustus's days, musicians, painters, cooks, players, and taylors; and if the land was equally culti«- vated at both periods, it could certainly maintain equal number? in the one profession as in the other. They added nothing to the mere necessaries of life, in the latter period more than in the former. It is natural on this occasion to ask, whether sovereigns may not return to the maxims of ancient policy, and con- sult their own interest in this respect, more than the happi- ness of their subjects ? I answer, that it appears to me, almost impossible; and that because ancient policy was violent, and contrary to the more natural and usual course of things. It is well known with what peculiar laws Sparta was governed, and what a prodigy that republic is justly esteemed by every one, who has considered human nature as it has displayed itself in other nations, and other ages. Were the testimony of history less positive and circumstantial, such a government would ap- pear a mere philosophical whim or fiction, and impossible ever to be reduced to practice. And though the Roman and other ancient republics were supported on principles somewhat more natural, yet was there an extraordinary concurrence of circum- stances to make them submit to such grievous burthens. They were free states; they were small ones; and the age being mar- tial, all their neighbours were continually in arms. Freedom naturally begets public spirit, especially in small states; and this public spirit, this amor patrice, must encrease, when the public is almost in continual alarm, and men are obliged, every moment, to expose themselves to the greatest dangers for its defence. A continual succession of wars makes every citizen a soldier: He takes the field in his turn: And during his service he is chiefly maintained by himself. This service is indeed equivalent to a hea- vy tax ; yet is it less felt by a people addicted|to arms, who fight for honour and revenge more than pay, and are unacquainted with gain and industry as well as pleasure.* Not to ipention the * .Sre note [O.) OF COMMERCE. 273 great equality of fortunes among the inhabitants of the ancient republics, where every field, belonging to a different proprietor, was able to maintain a family, and rendered the numbers of citi- zens very considerable, even without trade and manufactures. But though the want of trade and manufactures, among a free and very martial people may sometimes have no other effect.than to render the public more powerful, it is certain, that, in the common course of human affairs, it will have a quite contrary tendency. Sovereigns must take mankind as they find them, and cannot pretend to introduce any violent change in their prin- ciples and ways of thinking. A long course of time, with a va- riety of accidents and circumstances, are requisite to produce those great revolutions, which so much diversify the face of hu- man affairs. And the legs natural any set of principles are, whicl* support a particular society, the more difficulty v/ill a legislator meet with in raising and cultivating them. It is his best policy to comply with the common bent of mankind, and give it all the improvements of which it is susceptible. Now, according to the most natural course of things, industry and arts and trade en- crease the power of the sovereign as well as the happiness of the subjects; and that policy is violent, which aggrandizes the pub- lic by the property of individuals. This will easily appear from a few considerations, which will present to us the consequences of sloth and barbarity. Where manufactures and mechanic arts are not cultivated, the bulk of the people must apply themselves to agriculture; and if their skill and industry encrease, there must arise a great su- perfluity from their labour beyond what suffices to maintain them. They have no temptation, therefore, to encrease their skill and industry; since they cannot exchange that superfluity for any commodities, which may serve either to their pleasure or vanity. A habit of indolence naturally prevails. The greater part of the land lies uncultivated. What is cultivated, vields not its utmost for want of skill and assiduity in the farmers. If at any time i374 ESSAY I. the public exigencies require, that great numbers should be em- ployed in the public service, the labour of the people furnishes now no superfluities,by which these numbers can be maintained. The labourers cannot encrease their skill and industry on a sud- den. Lands uncultivated cannot be brought into tillage for some years. The armies, mean while, must either make sudden and violent conquests, or disband for want of subsistence. A regular attack or defence, therefore, is not to be expected from such a people, and their soldiers must be as ignorant and unskilful as their farmers and manufacturers. Every thing in the world is purchased by labour; and our passions are the only causes of labour. When a nation abounds in manufactures and mechanic arts, the proprietors of land, ad well as the farmers, study agriculture as a science, and redouble their industry and attention. The superfluity, which arises from their labour, is not lost; but is exchanged with manufac- turers for those commodities^Mvhich men's luxury now makes them covet. By this means, land furnishes a great deal more of the necessaries of life, than what suffices for those who cultivate it. In times of peace and tranquillity, this superfluity goes to the maintenance of manufacturers, and the improvers of liberal arts. But it is easy for the public to convert many of these manufac- turers into soldiers, and maintain them by that superfluity, which arises from the labour of the farmers. Accordingly we find. that this is the case in all civilized governments. When the sovereign raises an army, what is the consequence ? He impo- ses a tax. This tax obliges all the people to retrench what is least necessary to their subsistence. Those, who labour in such coin modities, must either enlist in the troops, or turn themselves to agriculture, and thereby oblige some labourers to enlist for want of business. And to consider the matter abstractedly, manufac- tures encrease the power of the state only as they store up so much labour, and that of a kind to which the public may lay claim, without depriving any one of the necessaries of life. The more labour, therefore, is employed bevond mere n"< essaries, the OF COMMERCE. 281 more powerful is any state; since the persons engaged in that labour may easily be converted to the public service. In a state without manufactures, there may be the same number of hands; but there is not the same quantity of labour, nor of the same kind. All the labour is there bestowed upon necessaries, which can admit of little or no abatement. Thus the greatness of the sovereign and the happiness of the state are, in a great measure, united with regard to trade and manufactures. It is a violent method, and in most cases imprac- ticable, to oblige the labourer to toil, in order to raise from the land more than what subsists himself and family. Furnish him with manufactures and commodities, and he will do it of himself. Afterwards you will find it easy to seize some part of his super- fluous labour, and employ it in the public service, without giving him his wonted return. Being accustomed to industry," he will think this less grievous, than if, at once, you obliged him to an augmentation of labour without any reward. The case is the same with regard to the other members of the state. The great- er is the stock of labour of all kinds, the greater quantity may be taken from the heap, without making any sensible alteration in it. A public granary of corn, a storehouse of cloth, a magazine of arms; all these must be allowed real riches and strength in any state. Trade and industry are really nothing but a stock of la- bour, which^in times of peace and tranquillity, is employed for the ease and satisfaction of individuals; but in the exigencies of state, may, in part, be turned to public advantage. Could we convert a city into a kind of fortified camp, and infuse into each breast so martial a genius, and such a passion for public good, as to make every one willing to undergo the greatest hardships for the sake of the public; these affections might now, as in ancient times, prove alone a sufficient spur to industry, and support the community. It would then be advantageous, as in camps, to banish all arts and luxury; and, by restrictions on equipage and M2 282 ESSAY I. tables, make the provisions and forage last longer than if the ar- my were loaded with a number of superfluous retainers. But as these principles are too disinterested and too difficult to support, it is requisite to govern men by other passions, and animate them with a spirit of avarice and industry, art and luxury. The camp is, in this case, loaded with a superfluous retinue ; but the pro- visions flow in proportionably larger. The harmony of the whole is still supported; and the natural bent of the mind being more complied with, individuals, as well as the public, find their ac- count in the observance of those maxims. The same method of reasoning will let us see the advantage of foreign commerce, in augmenting tlie power of the state, as well as the riches and happiness of the' subject. It encreases the stock of labour in the nation; and the sovereign may convert what share of it he finds necessary to the service of the public. Foreign trade, by its imports, furnishes materials for new manu- factures ; and by its exports, it produces labour in particular commodities, which could not be consumed at home. In short, a kingdom, that has a .large import and export, must abound more with industry, and that employed upon delicacies and lux- uries, than a kingdom which rests contented with its native commodities. It is, therefore, more powerful, as well as richer and happier. The individuals reap the benefit of these commo- dities, so far as they gratify the senses and appetites. And the public is also a gainer, while a greater stock of labour is, by this means, stored up against any public exigency; that is, a greater number of laborious men are maintained, who may be diverted to the public service, without robbing any one of the necessaries, or even the chief conveniencies of life. If we consult history, we shall find, that, in most nations, fo- reign trade has preceded any refinement in home manufactures, and given birth to domestic luxury. The temptation is stronger to make use of foreign commodities, which are ready for use, and which are entirely new to us, than to make improvements on any of comAe^roe. 283 domestic commodity, which always advance by glow degrees, and never affect us by their novelty. The profit is also very great, in exporting what is superfluous at home, and what bears no price, to foreign nations, whose soil or climate is not favour- able to that commodity. Thus men become acquainted with the pleasures of luxury and the profits of commerce; and their deli- cacy and industry, being once awakened, carry them on to far- ther improvements, in every branch of domestic as well as foreign trade. And this perhaps is the chief advantage which arises from a commerce with strangers. It rouses men from their in- dolence; and presenting the gayer and more opulent part of the nation with objects of luxury, which they never before dreamed of, raises in them a desire of a more splendid way of life than what their ancestors enjoyed. And at the same time, the few merchants, who possess the secret of this importation and expor- tation, make great profits; and becoming rivals in wealth to the ancient nobility, tempt other adventurers to become their rivals in commerce. Imitation soon diffuses all those arts; while do- mestic manufactures emulate the foreign in their improvements, and work up every home commodity to the utmost perfection of which it is susceptible. Their own steel and iron, in such la- borious hands, become equal to the gold and rubies of the Indies. When the affairs of the society are once brought to this situa- tion, a nation may lose most of its foreign trade, and yet con- tinue a great and powerful people. If strangers will not take any particular commodity of ours, we must cease to labour in it. The same hands will turn themselves towards some refinement in other commodities, which may be wanted at home. And there must always be materials for them to work upon; till every per- son in the state, who possesses riches, enjoys as great plenty of home commodities, and those in as great perfection, as he de- sires; which can never possibly happen. China is represented as one of the most flourishing empires in the world; thpugh it has very little commerce beyond its own territories. It will not, I hope, be considered as a superfluous digression, if I here observe, that, as the multitude of mechanical arts is ad- 284 ESSAY I. vantageous, so is the great number of persons to whose share the productions of these arts fall. A too great disproportion among the citizens weakens any state. Every person, if possible, ought to enjoy the fruits of his labour, in a full possession of all the necessaries, and many of the conveniencies of life. No one can doubt, but such an equality is most suitable to human nature, and diminishes much less from the happiness of the rich than it adds to that of the poor. It also augments the power of the state, and makes any extraordinary taxes or impositions be paid with more cheerfulness. Where the riches are engrossed by a few, these must contribute very largely to the supplying of the public necessities. But when the riches are dispersed among multi- tudes, the burthen feels light on every shoulder, and the taxes make not a very sensible difference on any one's way of living. Add to this, that, where the riches are in few hands, these must enjoy all the power, and will readily conspire to lay the whole burthen on the poor, and oppress them still farther, to the discouragement of all industry. In this circumstance consists the great advantage of England above any nation at present in the world, or that appears in the records of any story. It is true, the English feel some disad- vantages in foreign trade by the high price of labour, which is in part the effect of the riches of their artisans, as well as of the plenty of money: But as foreign trade is not the most material circumstance, it is not to be put in competition with the happi- ness of so many millions. And if there were no more to en- dear to them that free government under which they live, this alone were sufficient. The poverty of the common people is a natural, if not an infallible effect of absolute monarchy; though I doubt, whether it be always true, on the other ha».d, that their riches are an infallible result of liberty. Liberty must be attended with particular accidents, and a certain turn of think- ing, in order to produce that effect. Lord Bacon, accounting for the great advantages obtained by the English in the wars with France, ascribes them chiefly to the superior ease and 4 OF COMMERCE. 285 plenty of the common people amongst the former; yet the govern- ment of the two kingdoms was, at that time pretty much alike. Where the labourers and artisans are accustomed to work for low wages, and to retain but a small part of the fruits of their la- bour, it is difficult for them, even in a free government, to better their condition, or conspire among themselves to heighten their wages. But even where they are accustomed to a more plenti- ful way of life, it is easy for the rich, in an arbitrary government, to conspire against them, and throw the whole burthen of the taxes on their shoulders. It may seem an odd position, that the poverty of the common people in France, Italy, and Spain, is, in some measure, owing to the superior riches of the soil and happiness of the climate; yet there want not reasons to justify this paradox. In such a fine mould or soil as that of those more southern regions, agri- culture is an easy art; and one man, with a couple of sorry horses, will be able, in a season, to cultivate as much land as will pay a pretty considerable rent to the proprietor. All the art, which the farmer knows, is to leave his ground fallow for a year, as soon ae it is exhausted; and the warmth of the sun alone and temperature of the climate enrich it, and restore its fertility. Such poor peasants, therefore, require only a simple mainte- nance for their labour. They have no stock or riches, which they claim more; and at the same time, they are forever depen- dant on their landlord, who gives no leases, nor fears that his land will be spoiled by the ill methods of cultivation. In Eng- land, the land is rich, but coarse; must be cultivated at a great expence ; and produces slender crops, when not carefully man- aged, and by a method which gives not a full profit but in a course of several years. A farmer, therefore, in England must have a considerable stock, and a long lease; which beget proportional profits. The fine vineyards of Champagne asd Burgundy, that often yield to the landlord above five pounds per acre, are cultivated by peasants, who have scarcely bread: The reason js, that such peasants need no stock bqt their own limbe, with in- 286 ESSAY 1. struments of husbandry, which they can buy for twenty shillings. The farmers are commonly in some better circumstances in those countries. But the graziers are most at their eaBe of all those who cultivate the land. The reason is still the same. Men must have profits proportionable to their expence and ha zard. Where so considerable a number of the labouring poor as the peasants and farmers are in very low circumstances, all the rest must partake of their poverty, whether the government of that nation be monarchical or republican. We may form a similar remark with regard to the general his- tory of mankind. What is the reason, why no people, living between the tropics, could ever yet attain to any art or civility, or reach even any police in their government, and any military discipline; while few nations in the temperate climates have been altogether deprived of these advantages ? It is probable that one cause of this phsenomenon is the warmth and equality of weather in the torrid zone, which render clothes and houses less requisite for the inhabitants, and thereby remove, "in part, that necessity, which is the great spur to industry and invention. Curis acuens mortalia corda. Not to mention, that the fewer goods or possessions of this kind any people enjoy, the fewer quarrels are likely to arise amongst them, and the less necessity will there be for a settled police or regular authority to protect and defend them from foreign enemies, or from each other. ESSAY II. OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. LUXURY is a word of an uncertain signification, and may be taken in a good as well as in a bad sense. In general, it means great refinement in the gratification of the senses; and any degree of it may be innocent or blamable, according to the age, or country, or condition of the person. The bounds be- tween the virtue and the vice cannot here be exactly fixed, more than in other moral subjects. To imagine, that the gratifying of any sense, or the indulging of any delicacy in meat, drink. or apparel, is of itself a vice, can never enter into a head, that is not disordered by the frenzies of enthusiasm. I have, indeed. heard of a monk abroad, who, because the windows of his cell opened upon a noble prospect, made a covenant with his eyes never to turn that way, or receive so sensual a gratification. And such is the crime of drinking Champagne or Burgundy, preferably to small beer or porter. These indulgences are only vices, when they are pursued at the expence of some virtue, a? liberality or charity; in like manner as they are follies, when for them a man ruins his fortune, and reduces himself to want and beggary. Where they entrench upon no virtue, but leave ample subject'whence to provide for friends, family, and every proper object of generosity or compassion, they are entirely in- nocent, and have in every age been acknowledged such bv almost all moralists. To be entirely occupied with the luxury of the table, for instance, without any relish for the pleasures of ambition, study, or conversation is a mark of stupidity, and is incompatible with any vigour of temper or genius. To confine pne's expence entirely to such a gratification, without regard te 288 ESSAY IT. friends or family, is an indication of a heart destitute of human- ity or benevolence. B*' if a man reserve time sufficient for all laudable pursuits, ant niofrey sufficient for all generous purpo- ses, he is free from every siadow of blame or reproach. Since luxury may be considered either as innocent or blama- ble, one may be surprised at those preposterous opinions, which have been entertained concerning it; while men of libertine principles bestow praises even on vicious luxury, and represent it as highly advantageous to society; and on the other hand, men of severe morals blame even the most innocent luxury, and represent it as the source of all the corruptions, disorders, and factions, incident to civil government. We shall here endea- vour to correct both these extremes, by proving, first, that the ages of refinement are both the happiest and most virtuous; se- condly, that wherever luxury ceases to be innocent, it also ceases to be beneficial; and when carried a degree too far, is a quality pernicious, though perhaps not the most pernicious, to political society. To prove the first point, we need but consider the effects of refinement both on private and on public life. Human happi ness, according to the most received notions, seems to consist in three ingredients; action, pleasure, and indolence : And though these ingredients ought to be mixed in different proportions, ac- cording to the particular disposition of the person; yet no one ingredient can be entirely wanting without destroying, in some measure, the relish of the whole composition. Indolence or re- pose, indeed, seems not of itself to contribute much to our en- joyment ; but, like sleep, is requisite as an indulgence to the weakness of human nature, which cannot support an uninter rupted course of business or pleasure. That quick march of the spirits, which takes a man from himself, and chiefly gives satis faction, does in the end exhaust the mind, and requires some intervals of repose, which, though agreeable for a moment, yet. if prolonged, beget a languor and lethargy, that destroys all eir OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 289 joyment. Education, custom, and example, have a mighty in- fluence in turning the mind to any of these pursuits; and it must be owned, that, where they promote a relish for action and pleasure, they are so far favourable to human happiness. In times when industry and the arts flourish, men are kept in per- petual occupation, and enjoy, as their reward, the occupation itself, as well as those pleasures which are the fruit of their la- bour. The mind acquires new vigour; enlarges its powers and faculties; and by an assiduity in honest industry, both satisfies its na.-i'-il appetites, and prevents the growth of unnatural ones, which commonly spring up, when nourished by ease and idle- ness. Banish those arts from society, you deprive men both^of action and of pleasure; and leaving nothing but indolence in their place you even destroy the relish of indolence, which never is agreeable, but when it succeeds to labour, and recruits the, spirits, exhausted by too much application and fatigue. Another advantage of industry and of refinements in the me- chanical arts, is, that they commonly produce some refinements in the liberal ; nor can one be carried to perfection, without be- ing accompanied, in some degree, with the other. The same age, which produces great philosophers and politicians, renown- ed generals and poets, usually abounds with skilful weavers,, and ship-carpenters. We cannot reasonably expect, that a piece of woollen cloth will be wrought to perfection in a nation, which is ignorant of astronomy, or where ethics are neglected. The spirit of the age affects all the arts; and the minds of men, being once roused from their lethargy, and put into a fermenta- tion, turn themselves on all sides, and carry improvements into every art and science. Profound ignorance is totally banished; and men enjoy the privilege of rational creatures, to think as well as to act, to cultivate the pleasures of the mind as well as those of the body. The more these refined arts advance, the more sociable men feecome : nor is it possible, that, when enriched with science, N2 290 ESSAY 11. and possessed of a fund of conversation, they should be content- ed to remain in solitude, or live with their fellow-citizens in that distant manner, which is peculiar to ignorant and barba- rous nations. They flock into cities ; love to receive and com- municate knowledge; to show their wit or their breeding; their taste in conversation or living, in clothes or furniture. Curiosity allures the wise ; vanity the foolish ; and pleasure both. Parti- cular clubs and societies are every where formed : Both sexes meet in an easy and sociable manner ; and the tempers of man, as well as their behaviour, refine apace. So that, beside the i m- provements which they receive from knowledge and the liberal arts, it is impossible but they must feel an encrease of humanity, from the very habit of conversing together, and contributing to each other's pleasure and entertainment. Thus industry, know- ledge, and humanity, are linked together by an indissoluble chain, and are found, from experience as \yell as reason, to be peculiar to the more polished, and, what are commonly deno- minated, the more luxurious ages. Nor are these advantages attended with disadvantages, that bear any proportion to them. The more men refine upon plea- sure, the less will they indulge in excesses of any kind ; be- cause nothing is more destructive to true pleasure than such ex- cesses. One may safely affirm, that the Tartars are offener guilty of beastly gluttony, when they feast on their dead horses, than European colirtiers with all their refinements of cookery. And if libertine love, or even infidelity to the marriage-bed, be more frequent in polite ages, when it is often regarded only as a piece of gallantry ; drunkenness, on the other hand, is much less common: A vice more odious, and more per- nicious both to mind and body. And in this matter I would appeal, not only to an Ovid or a Petronius, but to a Se- neca or a Cato.. We know, that Cesar, during Cati- line's conspiracy, being necessitated to put into Cato's hands a billet-doux, which discovered an intrigue with Servi- lia, Cato's own sister, that ^tern philosopher threw it back te OF REFINEMENT IN Tftfi ARTS. m kim with indication; and in the bitterness of his wrath, gave him the appellation of drunkard, as a term more opprobrious than that with which he could more justly have reproached him. But industry, knowledge, and humanity, are not advantageous in private life alone : They "diffuse their beneficial influence on the public, and render the government as great and flourishing as they make individuals happy and prosperous. The encrease and consumption of all the commodities, which serve to the or- nament and pleasure of life, are advantageous to society ; be- cause, at the same time that they multiply those innocent gra- tifications to individuals, they are a kind of storehouse of labour, which, in the exigencies of state, may be turned to the public service. In a nation, where there is no demand for such super- fluities^ men sink into indolence, lose all enjoyment of life, and are useless to the public, which cannot maintain of support its fleets and armies, from the industry of such slothful members. The bounds of all the European kingdoms are, at present, nearly the same they were two hundred years ago : But what a difference is there in the power and grandeur of those kingdoms B Which can be ascribed to nothing but the encrease of art and in- dustry. When Charles VIII. of France invaded Italy, he carried with him about 20,000 men : Yet this armament so ex- hausted the nation, as we learn from Guicciardin, that for some years it was not able to make so great an effort. The late king of France, in time of war, kept in pay above 400,000 men ;* though from Mazarine's death to his own, he was en- gaged in the course of wars that lasted near thirty years. This industry is much promoted by the knowledge insepara- ble from ages of art and refinement; as, on the other hand, this knowledge enables the public to make the best advantage of the industry of its subjects; Laws, order, police, discipline; * The inscriptio^on the Rijci^db-Ve>. pon says 440,000. 292 LSSAY II. these can never be carried to any degree of perfection, before human reason has refined itself by exercise, and by an applica- tion to the more vulgar arts, at least, of commerce and manu- facture. Can we expect, that a government will be well model- led by a people, who know not how to make a spinning-wkeel, or to employ a loom to advantage ? Not to mention, that all ig- norant ages are infested with superstition, which throws the government off its bias, and disturbs men in the pursuit of their interest and happiness. Knowledge in the arts of government naturally begets mild- ness and moderation, by instructing men in the advantages of humane maxims above rigour and severity, which drive subjects into rebellion, and make the return to submission impracticable, by cutting off all hopes of pardon. When the tempers of men are softened as well as their knowledge improved, this humani- ty appears still more conspicuous, and is the chief characteris- tic which,distinguishes a civilized age from times of barbarity and ignorance. Factions are then less inveterate, revolutions less tragical, authority less severe, and seditions less frequent. Even foreign wars abate of their cruelty; and after the field of battle, where honour and interest steel men against compassion as well as fear, the combatants divest themselves of the brute, and re- sume the man. Nor need we fear, that men, by losing their ferocity, will lose their martial spirit, or become less undaunted and vigorous in defence of their country or their liberty. The arts have no such effect in enervating either the mind or body. On the contrary, industry, their inseparable attendant, adds new force to bom. And if anger, which is said to be the whetstone of courage, loses somewhat of its asperity, by politeness and refinement; a sense of honour, which is a stronger, more constant, and more govern- able principle, acquires fresh vigour by that elevation of genius which arises from knowledge and a good education Add to this, that courage can neither have any duration, n*r be of any use OF REFINEMENTS IN' THE ARTS. 29S when not accompanied with discipline and martial skill, which are seldom found among a barbarous people. The ancients re- marked, that Datames was the only barbarian that ever knew the art of war. And Pttrrhus, seeing the Romans marshal their army with some art and skill, said with surprise, Tliete barba- rians have nothing barbarous in their discipline ! It is observa- ble, that, as the old Romans, by applying themselves solely to war, were almost the only uncivilized people that ever possessed military discipline; so the modern Italians are the only civi- lized people, among Europeans, that ever wanted courage and a martial spirit. Those who would ascribe this effeminacy of the Italians to their luxury, or politeness, or application to the arts, need but consider the French and English, whose bravery is as uncontestable, as their love for the arts, and their assiduity in commerce. The Italian historians give us a more satisfacto- ry reason for this degeneracy of their countrymen. They shew us how the sword was dropped at once by the Italian sovereigns ; while the Venetian aristocracy was jealous of its subjects, the Florentine democracy applied itself entirely to commerce; Rome was governed by priests, and Naples by women. War then became the business of soldiers of fortune, who spared one another, and to the astonishment of the world, could engage a whole day in what they called a battle, and return at night to their camp without the least bloodshed. What has chiefly induced severe moralists to declaim against refinement in the arts, is the example of ancient Rome, which, joining, to its poverty and rusticity, virtue and public sp'rit, rose to such a surprising height of grandeur and liberty; but having learned from its conquered provinces the Asiatic luxu- ry, fell into every kind of corruption; whence arose sedition and civil wars, attended at last with the total loss of liberty. All the Latin classics, whom we peruse in our infancy, are full of these sentiments, and universally ascribe the ruin of their state to the arts and riches imported from the East: Insomuch that Sallust represents a taste for painting as a vice, no less than £94 ESSAY II. lewdness and drinking. And so popular were these sentiments^ during the latter ages of the republic, that this author abounds in praises of the old rigid Roman virtue, though himself the most egregious instance of modern luxury and corruption; speaks con- temptuously of the Grecian eloquence, though the most elegant writer in the world; nay, employs preposterous digressions and declamations to this purpose, ^though a model of taste and cor- rectness. But it would be easy to prove, that these writers mistook the cause of the disorders in the Roman state, and ascribed to lux- ury and the arts, what really proceeded from an ill modelled go- vernment, and the unlimited extent of conquests. Refinement on the pleasures and conveniencies of life has no natural ten- dency to beget venality and corruption. The value, which all •men put upon any particular pleasure, depends on comparison and experience; nor is a porter less greedy of money, which he spends on bacon and brandy, than a courtier, who purchases champagne and ortolans. Riches are valuable at all times, and to all men; because they always purchase pleasures, such as men are accustomed to, and desire: Nor can any thing restrain or regulate the love of money, but a sense of honour and virtue; which, if it be not nearly equal at all times, will naturally abound most in ages of knowledge and refinement. Of all European kingdoms, Poland seems the most defec- tive in the arts of war as well as peace, mechanical as well as liberal; yet it is there that venality and corruption dp most prevail. The nobles seem to have preserved their crown elec- tive for no other purpose, than regularly to sell it to the highest bidder. This is almost the only species of commerce, with which that people are acquainted. The liberties of England, so far from decaying since the im- provements in the arts, have never flourished so much as during that period. And though corruption may seem to encrease of OF REFINEMENT IX THE ARTS* 295 late years; this is chiefly to be ascribed to our established liber- ty, when our princes have found the impossibility of governing without parliaments, or of terrifying parliaments by the phan- tom of prerogative. Not to mention, that this corruption or venality prevails much more among the electors than the elect- ed ; and therefore cannot justly be ascribed to any refinements in luxury. If we consider the matter in a proper light, we shall find, that a progress in the arts is rather favourable to liberty, and has a natural tendency to preserve, if not produce a free govern- ment. In rude unpolished nations, where the arts are neglect- ed, all labour is bestowed on the cultivation of the ground ; and the whole society is divided into two classes, proprietors of land, and their vassals or tenants. The latter are necessarily dependent, and fitted for slavery and subjection; especially where they possess no riches, and are not valued for their know- ledge in agriculture; as must always be the case where the arts are negleeted. The former naturally erect themselves into pfetty tyrants; and must either submit to an absolute master, for the sake of peace and order; or if they will preserve their indepen- dency, like the ancient barons, they must fall into feuds and con- tests among themselves, and throw the whole society into such confusion, as is perhaps worse than the most despotic government. But where luxury nourishes commerce and industry, the pea- sants, by a proper cultivation of the land, become rich and in- dependent; while the tradesmen and merchants acquire a share of the property, and draw authority and consideration to that middling rank of men, who are the best and firmest basis of public liberty. These submit not to slavery, like the peasants, from poverty and meanness of spirit; and having no hopes of tyrannizing over others, like the barons, they are not tempted; for the sake of that gratification, to submit to the tyranny of their sovereign. They covet equal laws, which may secure their property, and preserve them from monarchical, as well as aristocratical tyranny. 296 ESSAY II. The lower house is the support of our popular government; and all the world acknowledges, that it owed its chief influence and consideration to the encrease of commerce, which threw such a balance of property into the hands of the commons. How in- consistent then is it to blame so violently a refinement in the arts, and to represent it as the bane of liberty and public spirit! To declaim against present times, and magnify the virtue of remote ancestors, is a propensity almost inherent in human na- ture : And as the sentiments and opinions of civilized ages alone are transmitted to posterity, hence it is that we meet with so many severe judgments pronounced against luxury, and even science; and hence it is that at present we give so ready an assent to them. But the fallacy is easily perceived, by comparing different nations that are contemporaries; where we both judge more impartially, and can better set in opposition those manners, with which we are sufficiently acquainted. Treachery and cruelty, the most pernicious and most odious of all vices, seem peculiar to uncivilized ages; and by the refined, Greeks and Romans were ascribed to all the barbarous nationse which surrounded them. They might justly, therefore, have presumed, that their own ancestors, so highly celebrated, pos- sessed no greater virtue, and were as much inferior to their pos- terity in honour and humanity, as in taste and science. An an- cient Frank or Saxon may be highly extolled : But I believe every man would think his life or fortune much less secure inr the hands of a Moor or Tartar, than in those of a French or English gentleman, the rank of men the most civilized in the most civilized nations. We come now to the second position which we proposed to illustrate, to wit, that, as innocent luxury, or a refinement in the arts and conveniencies of life, is advantageous to the public ; so wherever luxury ceases to be innocent, it also ceases to be bene- ficial ; and when carried a degree farther, begins to be a quality pernicious, though, perhaps, nptthe most pernicious, to political society. QF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 297 Let us consider what we call vicious luxury. No gratifica- tion, however sensual, can of itself be esteemed vicious. A gra- tification is only vicious, when it engrosses all a man's expence, and leaves no ability for such acts of duty and generosity as are required by his situation and fortune. Suppose, that he correct the vice, and employ part of his expence in the education of his children, in the support of his friends, and in relieving the poor; would any prejudice result to society ? On the contrary, the same consumption would arise ; and that labour, which, at pre- sent, is employed only in producing a slender gratification to one man, would relieve the necessitous, and bestow satisfaction en hundreds. The same care and toil that raise a dish of peas at Christmas, would give bread to a whole family during six months. To say, that, without a vicious luxury, the labour would not have been employed at all, is only to say, that there is some other defect in human nature, such as indolence, selfish- ness, inattention to others, for which luxury, in some measure, provides a remedy; as one poison may be an antidote to another. But virtue, like wholesome food, is better than poisons, however corrected. Suppose the same number of men, that are at present in Great Britain, with the same soil and climate; I ask, is it not possible for them to be happier, by the most perfect way of life that can be imagined, and by the greatest reformation that Omnipotence itself could work in their temper and disposition £ To assert, that they cannot, appears evidently ridiculous. A9 the land is able to maintain more than all its present inhabitants, they could never, in such a Utopian state, feel any other ills than those which arise from bodily sickness ; and these are not the half of human miseries. All other ills spring from some vice, either in ourselves or others; and even many of our diseases proceed from the same origin. Remove the vices, and the ills follow. You must only take care to remove all the vices. If you remove part, you may render the matter worse. By banish- ing vicious luxury, without curing sloth and an indifference to 02 298 ESSAY 11. others, you only diminish industry in the state, and add nothing to men's eharity or their generosity. Let us, therefore, rest contented with asserting, that two opposite vices in a state may be more advantageous than either of them alone; but let us ne- ver pronounce vice in itself advantageous. Is it not very incon- sistent for an author to assert in one page, that moral distinc- tions are inventions of politicians for public interest; and in the next page maintain, that vice is advantageous to the public ?* And indeed it seems upon any system of morality, little less than a contradiction in terms, to talk of a vice, which is in gene- ral beneficial to s ociety. I thought this reasoning necessary, in order to give some light to a philosophical question, which has been much disputed in England. I call it a philosophical question, not a political one. For whatever may be the consequence of such a miracu- lous transformation of mankind, as would endow them with eve- ry species of virtue, and free them from every species of vice ; this concerns not the magistrate who aims only at possibilities. He cannot cure every vice by substituting a virtue in its place. V-ery often he can only cure one vice by another; and in that case, he ought to prefer what is least pernicious to society. Luxury, when excessive, is the source of many ills; but is in general preferable to sloth and idleness, which would commonly succeed in its place, and are more hurtful both to private per- sons and to the public. When sloth reigns, a mean uncultivated way of life'prevails amongst individuals, without society, without enjoyment. And if the sovereign, in such a situation, demands the service of his subjects, the labour of the state suffices only to furnish the necessaries of life to the labourers, and can afford nothing to those who are employed in the public service. * Fable of the Bees ESSAY III, OF MONEY. MONEY is not, properly speaking, one of the subjects of commerce; but only the instrument which men have agreed up- on to facilitate the exchange of one commodity for another. It is none of the wheels of trade : It is the oil which renders the motion of the wheels more smooth and easy. If we consi- der any one kingdom by itself, it is evident, that the greater or less plenty of money is of no consequence; since the prices of commodities are always proportioned to the plenty of money, and a crown in Harry VII.'s time served the same purpose as a pound does at present. It is only the public which draws any advantage from the greater plenty of money ; and that only in its wars and negociations with foreign states. And this is the reason, why all rich and trading countries from Carthage to Great Britain and Holland, have employed mercenary troops, which they hired from their poorer neighbours. Were they to make use of their native subjects, they would find less advantage from their superior riches, and from their great plen- ty of gold and silver; since the pay of all their servants must rise in proportion to the public opulence. Our small army of 20,000 men is maintained at as great expence as a French ar- my twice as numerous. The English fleet, during the late war, required as much money to support it as all the Roman legions, which kept the whole world in subjection, during the time of the emperor*.* • See note [P.] 300 ESSAY III. The greater number of people and their greater industry are serviceable in all cases; at home and abroad, in private, and in public. But the greater plenty of money, is very limited in its use, and may even sometimes be a loss to a nation in its commerce with foreigners. There seems to be a happy concurrence of causes in human affairs, which checks the growth of trade and riches, and hin- ders them from being confined entirely to one people; as might naturally at first be dreaded from the advantages of an establish- ed commerce. Where one nation has gotten the start of ano- ther in trade, it is very difficult for the latter to regain the ground it has lost; because of the superior industry and skill of the former, and the greater stocks, of which its merchants are possessed, and which enable them to trade on so much smaller profits. But these advantages are compensated, in some mea- sure, by the low price of labour in every nation which has not an extensive oommerce, and does not much abound in gold and silver. Manufactures, therefore, gradually shift their places, leaving those countries and provinces which they have already enriched, and flying to others, whither they are allured by the cheapness of provisions and labour; till they have enriched these also, and are again banished by the same causes. And, in general, we may observe, that the dearness of every thing, from plenty of money, is a disadvantage, which attends an es- tablished commerce, and sets bounds to it in every country, by enabling the poorer states to undersell the richer in all foreign markets. This has made me entertain a doubt concerning the benefit of tanks and paper-credit, which are so generally esteemed ad- vantageous to every nation. That provisions and labour should become dear by the encrease of trade and money, is, in many respects, an inconvenience ; but an inconvenience that is una- voidable, and the effect of that public wealth and prosperity which are the end of all our wishes. It is compensated by the OF MONEY. 301 advantages, which we reap from the possession of these precious metals, and the weight, which they give the nation in all foreign wars and negociations. But there appears no reason for encreasing that inconvenience by a counterfeit money, which foreigners will not accept of in any payment, and which any great disorder in the state will reduce to nothing. There are, it is true, many people in every rich state, who having large sums of money, would prefer paper with good security; as be- ing of more easy transport and more safe custody. If the pub- lic provide not a bank, private bankers will take advantage of this circumstance ; as the goldsmiths formerly did in London, or as the bankers do at present in Durlin : And therefore it is better, it may be thought, that a public company should enjoy the benefit of that paper-credit, which always will have place in every opulent kingdom. But to endeavour artificially to en- crease such a credit, can never be the interest of any trading nation ; but must lay them under disadvantages, by encreasing money beyond its natural proportion to labour and commodities, and thereby heightening their price to the merchant and manu- facturer. And in this view, it must be allowed, that no bank pould be more advantageous, than such a one as locked up all the money it received,* and never augmented the circulating coin, as is usual, by returning part of its treasure into commerce. A public bank, by this expedient, might cut off much of the dealings of private bankers and money-jobbers ; and though the state bore the charge of salaries to the directors and tellers of this bank (for, according to the preceding supposition, it would have no profit from its dealings,) the national advantage, resulting from the low price of labour and the destruction of paper-credit, would be a sufficient compensation. Not to mention, that so large a sum, lying ready at command, would be a convenience in times of great public danger and distress ; and what part of it was used might be replaced at leisure, when peace and tranquil- lity was restored to the nation. * This is tLt case with the bank of Amstihdam. 302 ESSAY III. But of this subject of paper credit we shall treat more largely hereafter. And I shall finish this essay on money, by proposing and explaining two observations, which may, perhaps, serve to employ the thoughts of our speculative politicians. It was a shrewd observation of Anacharsis * the Scythian, who had never seen money in his own country, that gold and silver seemed to him of no use to the Greeks, but to assist them in numeration and arithmetic. It is indeed evident, that money is nothing but the representation of labour and commodities, and serves only as a method of rating or estimating them. Where coin is in greater plenty; as a greater quantity of it is required to represent the same quantity of goods; it can have no effect, either good or bad, taking a nation within itself; anymore than it would make an alteration on a merchant's books,, if instead of the Ararian method of notation, which requires few characters, he should make use of the Roman, which requires a great many. Nay, the greater quantity of money, like the Roman characters, is rather inconvenient, and requires greater trouble both to keep and transport it. But notwithstanding this conclusion, which must be allowed just, it is certain, that, since the discovery of the mines in America, industry has encreased in all the nations of Europe, except in the possessors of those mines; and this may justly be ascribed, amongst other reasons, to the encrease of gold and silver. Accordingly we find, that, in every king- dom, into which money begins to flow in greater abundance than formerly, every thing takes a new face; labour and industry gain life; the merchant becomes more enterprising, the manu- facturer more diligent and skilful, and even the farmer follows his plough with greater alacrity and attention. This is not easi- ly to be accounted for, if we consider only the influence which a greater abundance of coin has in the kingdom itself, by heighr tening the price of commodities, and obliging every one to pay a greater number of these little yellow or white pieces for every * P mjt. Quomodo quia suot prof actus in virtute tentire possit. OF MONEY. 303 thing he purchases. And as to foreign trade, it appears, that great plenty of money is rather disadvantageous, by raising the price of every kind of labour. To account, then, for this phenomenon, we must consider, that though the high price of commodities be a necessary conse- quence of the encrease of gold and silver, yet it follows not im- mediately upon that encrease; but some time is required be- fore the money circulates through the whole state, and makes its effect be felt on all ranks of people. At first, no alteration is perceived; by degrees the price rises, first of one commodity, then of another; till the whole at last reaches a just proportion with the new quantity of specie which is in the kingdom. In my opinion, it is only in this interval or intermediate situation, between the acquisition of money and rise of prices, that the en- creasing quantity of gold and silver is favourable to industry. When any quantity of money is imported into a nation, it is not at first dispersed into many hands; but is confined to the coffers of a few persons, who immediately seek to employ it to advan- tage. Here are a set of manufacturers or merchants, we shall suppose, who have received returns of gold and silver for goods which they sent to Cadiz. They are thereby enabled to em- ploy more workmen than formerly, who never dream of demand* ing higher wages, but are glad of employment from such good paymasters. If workmen become scarce, the manufacturer gives higher wages, but at first requires an encrease of labour; and this is willingly submitted to by the artisan, who can now eat and drink better, to compensate his additional toil and fatigue. He carries his money to market, where he finds every thing at the same price as formerly, but returns with greater quantity and of better kinds, for the use of his family. The farmer and gardener, finding, that all their commodities are taken off, apply themselves with alacrity to the raising more; and at the same time can afford to take better and more cloths from their trades- men, whose price is the same as formerly, and their industry only whetted by so much new gain. It is easy to trace the mo- 304 ESSAY III. ney in its progress through the whole commonwealth; where we shall find, that it must first quicken the diligence of every individual, before it encrease the price of labour. And that the specie may encrease to a considerable pitch, be- fore it have this latter effect, appears, amongst other instances, from the frequent operations of the French king on the money; where it was always found, that the augmenting of the numerary value did not produce a proportional rise of the prices, at least for some time. In the last year of Louis XIV. money was rais- ed three-sevenths, but prices augmented only one. Corn in France is now sold at the same price, or for the same number of livres, it was in 1683; though silver was then at 30 livres the mark, and is now at 50*. Not to mention the great addition of gold and silver, which may have come into that kingdom since the former period. From the whole of this reasoning we may conclude, that it is Of no manner of consequence, with regard to the domestic hap- piness of a state, whether money be in a greater or less quanti- ty. The good policy of the magistrate consists only in keeping it, if possible, still encreasing; because, by that means, he keeps alive a spirit of industry in the nation, and encreases the stock of labour, in which consists all real power and riches. A nation. whose money decreases, is actually, at that time, weaker and more miserable than another nation, which possesses no more but is on the encreasing hand. This will be easily accounted for, if we consider, that the alterations in the quantity of money. either on one side or the other, are not immediately attended with proportionable alterations in the price of commodities. There is always an interval before matters be adjusted to their new situation; and this interval is as pernicious to industry. when gold and silver are diminishing, as it is advantageous when these metals are encreasing. The workman has net the same * See note [<$]. OF MONEY. 305 employment from the manufacturer and merchant j though he pays the same price for every thing in the market. The farmer cannot dispose of his corn and cattle; though he must pay the same rent to his landlord. The poverty, and beggary, and sloth, which must ensue, are easily foreseen. II. The second observation which I proposed to make with regard to money, may be explained after the following manner. There are some kingdoms, and many provinces in Europe, (and all of them were once in the same condition) where money is so scarce, that the landlord can get none at all from his tenants; but is obliged to take his rent in kind, and either to consume it himself, or transport it to places where he may find a market. In those countries, the prince can levy few or no taxes, but in the same manner: And as he will receive small benefit'from impo- sitions so paid, it is evident that such a kingdom has little force even at home; and cannot maintain fleets and armies to the same extent, as if every part of it abounded in gold and silver. There is surely a greater disproportion between the force of Germany, at present, and what it was three centuries ago*, than there is in its industry, people, and manufactures. The Austrian dominions in the empire are in general well peopled and well cultivated, and are of great extent; but have not a proportionable weight in the balance of Europe ; proceeding, as is commonly supposed, from the scarcity of money. How do all these facts agree with that principle of reason, that the quantity of gold and silver is in itself altogether indifferent ? According to that principle wher- ever a sovereign has numbers of subjects, and these have plenty of commodities, he should of course be great and powerful, and they rich and happy, independent of the greater or lesser abun- dance of the precious metals. These admit of divisions and sub- divisions to a great extent; and where the pieces might become • The Italians gave to the Emperor Maximilian the nickname of Poe-, ri-BANAm. None of the enterprises of that prince ever succeeded, fop want of money. P2 S06 ESSAY Ht. io small as to be in danger of being lost, it is «fa$y U niix we, at any time, to form conjectures concerning the price of provisions, the corn, tvhich the farmer must reserVe for seed and for the maintenance of himself and family, ought never to enter into the estimation. It is only the overplus, com- pared to the demand, that determines the value. OF MONEY. SOT To apply these principles, we must consider, Jhat, in the first and more uncultivated ages of any stajte, ere fancy has confound- ed her wants with those of nature, men, content with the pro- duce of their own fields, or with those rude improvements which ihey themselves can work upon them, have little occasion for exchange, at least for money, which by agreement, is the com- common measure of exchange. The wool of the farmer's own flock, spun in his own family, and wrought by a neighbouring Weaver, who receives his payment in corn or wool, suffices for ■furniture and clothing. The carpenter, the smith, the mason, fthe.tailor, are retained by wages of a like nature; and the land- lord himself, dwelling in the neighbourhood, is content to receive his rent in the commodities raised by the farmer. Tlie greater .part of these he consumes at home, in rustic hospitality: The rest, perhaps, he disposes of for money to the neighbouring town, whence he draws the few materials of his expence and luxury. But after men begin to refine on all these enjoyments, and Jive jiot always at home, nor are content with what can be raised in their neighbourhood, there is more exchange and com- merce of all kinds, and more money enters into that exchange. The tradesmen will not be paid in corn; because they want something more than barely to eat. The farmer goes beyond his own parish for the commodities he purchases, and cannot al- ways carry his commodities to the merchant who supplies him. The landlord lives in the capital, or in a foreign country; and demands his rent in gold and silver, which can easily be trans- ported to him. Great undertakers, and manufacturers, and merchants, arise in every commodity; and these can conveni- ently deal in nothing but in specie. And consequently, in this situation of society, the coin enters into many more contracts, and by that means is much more employed than in the former. The necessary effect is, that, provided the money encrease not in the nation, every thing must become much cheaper in times of industry and refinement, than in rude, uncultivated 308 ESSAY III. ages. It is the proportion between the circulating money, and the commodities in the market, which determines the prices. Goods, that are consumed at home, or exchanged with other goods in the neighbourhood, never come to market; they affect not in the least the current specie; with regard to it they are as if totally annihilated ; and consequently this method of using them sinks the proportion on the side of the commodities, and encreases the prices. But after money enters into all contracts and sales, and is every where the measure of exchange, the same national cash has a much greater task to perform j all commodi- ties are then in the market; the sphere of circulation is enlarged; it is the same case as if that individual sum were to serve a lar- ger kingdom ; and therefore, the proportion being here lessened on the side of the money, every thing must become cheaper, and the prices gradually fall. By the most exact computations, that have been formed all over Europe, after making allowance for the alteration in the numerary value or the denomination, it is found, that the prices of all things have only risen three, or at most, four times, since the discovery of the West Indies. But will any one assert, that there is not much more than four times the coin in Europe, that was in the fifteenth century, and the centuries preceding it ? The Spaniards and Portuguese from their mines, the Eng- lish, French, and Dutch, by their African trade, and by. their interlopers in the West Indies, bring home about six millions a year, of which not above a third goes to the East Indies. This sum alone, in ten years, would probably double the ancient stock of money in Europe. And no other satis- factory reason can be given, why all prices have not risen t» a much more exorbitant height, except that which is derived from a change of customs and manners. Besides that more com- modities are produced by additional industry, the same commo- dities come more to market, after men depart from their ancient simplicity of manners. And though this encrease has not been equal to that of money, it has, however, been considerable, and OF MONEY. 309 has preserved the proportion between coin and commodities nearer the ancient standard. Were the question proposed, which of these methods of liv- ing in the people, the simple or refined is the most advantageous to the state or public ? I should, without much scruple, prefer the latter, in a view to politics at least; and should produce this as an additional reason for the encouragement of trade and manufactures. While men live in the ancient simple manner, and supply alt their necessaries from domestic industry or from the neighbour- hood, the sovereign can levy no taxes in money from a consid- erable part of his subjects; and if he will impose on them any burthens, he must take payment in commodities, with which alone they abound; a method attended with such great and ob- vious inconveniencies, that they need not here be insisted on. All the money he can pretend to raise, must be from his prin- cipal cities, where alone it circulates; and these, it is evident, cannot afford him so much as the whole state could, did gold and silver circulate throughout the whole. But besides this obvious diminution of the revenue, there is another cause of the poverty of the public in such a situation. Not only the sove- reign receives less money, but the same money goes not so far as in times of industry and general commerce. Every thing is dearer, where the gold and silver are supposed equal; and that because fewer commodities come to market, and the whole coin bears a higher proportion to what is to be purchased by it: whence alone the prices of every thing are fixed and deter- mined. Here then we may learn the fallacy of the remark, often to be met with in historians, and even in common conversation, that any particular state is weak, though fertile, populous, and well cultivated, merely because if wants money. It appears, 310 ESSAY III. that the want of money can never injure any state within itself: For men and commodities are the real strength of any commu- nity. It is the simple manner of living which here hurts the public, by confining the gold and silver to few hands, and pre- venting its universal diffusion and circulation. On the contra- ry, industry and refinements of all kinds incorporate it with the whole state, however small its quantity may be: They di- gest it into every vein, so to speak; and make it enter into eve- ry transaction and contract. No hand is entirely empty of it. And as the prices of every thing fall by that means, the sove- reign has a double advantage : He may draw money by his taxes from every part of the state; and what he receives, goes farther in every purchase and payment. We may infer, from a comparison of prices, that money is not more plentiful in China, than it was in Europe three cen- turies ago: But what immense power is that empire possessed of, if we may judge by the civil and military establishment maintained by it ? Polybius* tells us, that provisions were so cheap in Italy during his time, that in some places the stated price for a meal at the inns was a semis a head, little more than a farthing! Yet the Roman power had even then subdued the whole known world. About a century before that period, the Carthaginian ambassador said, by way of raillery, that no peo pie lived more sociably amongst themselves than the Romans ; for that, in every entertainment, which, as foreign ministers, they received, they still observed the same plate at every tablet- The absolute quantity of the precious metals is a matter of great indifference. There are only two circumstances of any importance, namely, their gradual encrease, and their thorough concoction and circulation through the state; and the influence of both these circumstances has here been, explained. * Lib. ii^ cap. 15. £ Phn. lib. xxxiii. cap. 11. J 47 MONEY. 311 In the following essay we shall see an instance of a like fal- lacy as that above mentioned; where a collateral effect is taken for a cause, and where a consequence is ascribed to the plenty of money; though it be really owing to a change in the man- ners and customs of the people. ESSAY IV. OF INTEREST. NOTHING is esteemed a more certain sign of the flourishing condition of any nation than the lowness of interest: And with reason ; though I believe the cause is somewhat different from what is commonly apprehended. Lowness of interest is gene- rally ascribed to plenty of money. But money, however plen- tiful, has no other effect, if fixed, than to raise the price of la- bour. Silver is more common than gold; and therefore you re- ceive a greater quantity of it for the same commodities. But do you pay less interest for it ? Interest in Batavia and Jamaica is at 10 per cent, in Portugal at 6; though these places, as we may learn from the prices of every thing, abound more in gold and silver than either London or Amsterdam. Were all the gold in England annihilated at once, and one and twenty shillings substituted in the place of every guinea j would money be more plentiful or interest lower P No surely i We should only use silver instead of gold. Were gold render- ed as common as silver, and silver as common as copper; would money be more plentiful or interest lower ? We may assuredly give the same answer. Our shillings would then be yellow, and our halfpence white; and we should have no guineas. No other difference would ever be observed; no alteration on commerce, manufactures, navigation, or interest; unless we imagine, that the colour of the metal is of any consequence. Now, what is so visible in these greater variations of scarcity or abundance in the precious metals, must hold in all iriferior Q2 314 ESSAY IV. changes. If the multiplying of gold and silver fifteen times makes no difference, much less can the doubling or tripling them. All augmentation has no other effect than to heighten the price of labour and commodities; and even this variation is little more than that of a name. In the progress towards these changes, the augmentation may have some influence, by exciting industry; but after the prices are settled, suitably to the new abundance of gold and silver, it has no manner of influence. An effect always holds proportion with its cause. Prices have risen near four times since the discovery of the Indies ; and it is probable gold and silver have multiplied much more : But in- terest has not fallen much above half. The rate of interest, therefore, is not derived from the quantity of the precious metals. Money having chiefly a fictitious value, the greater or less plenty of it is of no consequence, if we consider a nation within itself; and the quantity of specie, when once fixed, though ever so large, has no other effect, than to oblige every one to tell out a greater number of those shining bits of metal, for clothes, fur- niture or equipage, without encreasing any one convenience of life. If a man borrow money to build a house, he then carries home a greater load; because the stone, timber, lead, glass, in of money is stopped by our fulness and repletion. 328 ESSAY V. Again, suppose, that all the money of Great Britain were multiplied fivefold in a night, must not the contrary effect fol- low? Must not all labour and commodities rise to such an ex- orbitant height, that no neighbouring nations could afford to buy from us; while their commodities, on the other hand, became comparatively so cheap, that in spite of all the laws which could be formed, they would be run in upon us, and our money flow out; till we fall to a level with foreigners, and lose that great superiority of riches, which had laid us under such disadvan- tages ? Now, it is evident, that the same causes, which would correct these exorbitant inequalities, were they to happen miraculously, must prevent their happening in the common course of nature, and must for ever, in all neighbouring nations, preserve money nearly proportionable to the art and industry of each nation. All water, wherever it communicates, remains always at a level. Ask naturalists the reason; they tell you, that, were it to be raised in any one place, the superior gravity of that part not being balanced, must depress it, till it meet a counterpoise; and that the same cause, which redresses the inequality when it hap- pens, must for ever prevent it, without some violent external operation.* Can one imagine, that it had ever been possible, by any laws, or even by any art or industry, to have kept all'the money in Spain, which the galleons have brought from the Indies ? Or thai all commodities could be sold in France for a tenth of the price * There is another cause, though more limited in its operation, which checks the wrong balance of trade, to every particular nation to which the kingdom trades. When we import more goods than we export, the ex- change turns against U9, and this becomes a new encouragement to export; as much as the charge of carriage and insurance of the money which be- comes due would amount to. For the exchange can never rise but a little higher than that sum OF THE HALANCE OF TRADE. 329 which they would yield on the other side of the Pyrenees, without finding their way thither, and draining from that im- mense treasure ? What other reason, indeed, is there, why all nations, at present, gain in their trade with Spain and Portu- gal ; but because it is impossible to heap up money, more than any fluid, beyond its proper level ? The sovereigns of these countries have shown, that they wanted not inclination to keep their gold and silver to themselves, had it been in any degree practicable.' But as any body of water may be raised above the level of the surrounding element, if the former has no communication with the latter; so in. money, if the communication be cut off, by auy material or physicakimpediment, (for all laws alone are ineffec- tual) there may, m. Such a case, be a very great inequality of money. Thus the impiense distance of China, together with the monopolies of our IWdia companies, obstructing the commu- nication, preserve in Europe the gold and silver, especially the latter, in much greater plenty than they are found in that king- dom. But notwithstanding this great obstruction, the force of the causes abovementioned is still evident. The skill and inge- nuity of Europe in general surpasses perhaps that of China, with regard to manual arts and manufactures; yet are we never able to trade thither without great disadvantage. And were it not for the continual recruits, which we receive from America, money would soon sink in Europe, and rise in China, till it came nearly to a level in both places. Nor can any reasonable man doubt, but that industrious nation, were they as near us as Poland or Barhary, would drain us of the overplus of our spe- cie, and draw to themselves a larger share of the West Indian treasures. We need not have recourse to a physical attraction, in order to explain the necessity of this operation. There is a moral attraction, arising from the interests and passions of men, which is full as potent and infallible. .. • 330 ESSAY V. How is the balance kept in the provinces of every kingdom among themselves, but by the force of this principle, which makes it impossible for money to lose its level, and either to rise or sink beyond the proportion of the labour and commodi- ties which are in each province ? Did not long experience make people easy on this head, what a fund of gloomy reflections might calculations afford to a melancholy Yorkshireman, while he computed and magnified the sums drawn to London by taxes, absentees, commodities, and found on comparison the opposite articles so much inferior ? And no doubt, had the Heptarchy subsisted in England, the legislature of each state had been continually alarmed by the fear of a wrong balance; and as it is probable that the mutual hatred of these states would have been extremely violent on account of their close neighbourhood, they would have loaded and oppressed all commerce, by a jealous and superfluous caution. Since the union has removed the barriers between Scotland and England, which of these nations gains from the other by this free commerce ? Or if the former king- dom has received any encrease of riches, can it reasonably be accounted for by any thing but the encrease of its art and indus- try ? It was a common apprehension in England, before the union, as we learn from L'Arbe du Bos *, that Scotland would soon drain them of their treasure, were an open trade al- lowed ; and on the other side the Tweed a contrary apprehen- sion prevailed: With what justice in both, time has shown. What happens in small portions of mankind, must take place in greater. The provinces of the Roman empire, no doubt, kept their balance with each other, and with Italy, independent of the legislature; as much as the several counties of Great Britain, or the several parishes of each county. And any man who travels over Europe at this day, may see, by the prices of commodities, that money, in spite of the absurd jea- lousy of princes and states, has brought itself nearly to a level:, * Les interets d' Angleterhe mal-entendus. OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 331 and that the difference between one kingdom and another is not greater in this respect, than it is often between different provin- ces of the same kingdom. Men naturally flock to capital cities, sea-ports, and navigable rivers. There we find more men, more industry, more commodities, and consequently more money; but still the latter difference holds proportion with the former, and the level is preserved *. Our jealousy and our hatred of France are without bounds; and the former sentiment, at least, must be acknowledged rea- sonable and well-grounded. These passions have occasioned innumerable barriers and obstructions upon commerce, where we are accused of being commonly the aggressors. But what have we gained by the bargain ? We lost the French market for our woollen manufactures, and transferred the commerce of wine to Spain and Portugal, where we buy worse liquor at a higher price. There are few Englishmen who would not think their country absolutely ruined, were French wines sold in England so cheap and in suph abundance as to supplant, in some measure, all ale, and home-brewed liquors : But would we lay aside prejudice, it would not be difficult to prove, that no- thing could be more innocent, perhaps advantageous. Each new acre of vineyard planted in France, in order to supply England with wine, would make it requisite for the French to take the produce of an English acre, sown in wheat or barley, in order to subsist themselves; and it is evident, that we should thereby get command of the better commodity. There are many edicts of the French king, prohibiting the planting of new vineyards, and ordering all those which are lately planted to be grubbed up: So sensible are they, in that country, of the superior value of corn, above every other pro- duct. ♦See note [R}, 332 ESSAY V. Mareschal Vauran complains often, and with reason, of the absurd duties which load the entry of those wines of Lanc.ue- doc, Guienne, and other southern provinces, that are imported into Britanny and Normandy. He entertained no doubt but these latter provinces could preserve their balance, notwith- standing the open commerce which he recommends. And it is evident, that a few leagues more navigation to Eire.land would make no difference ; or if it did, that it must operate alike on the commodities of both kingdoms. There is indeed one expedient by which it is possible to sink, and another by which we may raise money beyond its na- tural level in any kingdom ; but these cases, when examined, will be found to resolve into our general theory, and. to bring additional authority to it. I scarcely know any method of sinking money below its level, but those institutions of banks, funds and paper-credit, which are so much practised in this kingdom. These render paper equivalent.to money, circulate it throughout the whole state, make it supply the place of gold and silver, raise proportion ably the price of lahour and commodities, and by that means either banish a great part of those precious metals, or prevent their farther encrease. What can be more short-sighted than our reasonings on this head ? We fancy, because an individual would be much richer, were his stock of money doubled, that the same good effect would follow were the money of every one encreased ; not considering, that this would raise as much the price of every commodity, and reduce every man. in time, to the same condition as before. It is only in our public negocia- tions and transactions with foreigners, that a greater stock of money is advantageous ; and as our paper is there absolutely insignificant, we feel, by its means, all the ill effects arising from a great abundance of money, without reaping any of the advantages.* * We observed in Essay III. that money, when encreasing1, gives en- couragement to industry, during the interval between the encrease of OF THE HALANCE OF TRADE. 333 Suppose that there are 12 millions of paper, which circulate in the kingdom as money, (for we are not to imagine, that all our enormous funds are employed in that shape) and suppose the real cash of the kingdom to be 18 millions : Here is a state which is found by experience to be able to hold a stock of 30 millions. I say, if it be able to hold it, it must of necessity have acquired it in gold and silver, had we not obstructed the entrance of these metals by this new invention of paper. Whence would it have acquired that sum ? From all the kingdoms of the world. But why ? Because, if you remove these 12 mil- lions, money in this state is below its level, compared with our neighbours ; and we must immediately draw from all of them, till we be full and saturate, so to speak, and can hold no more. By our present politics, we are as careful to stuff the nation with this fine commodity of bank-bills and chequer-notes, as if we were afraid of being overburthened with the precious me- tals. It is not to be doubted, but the great plenty of bullion in France is in a great measure, owing to the want of paper-cre- dit. The French have no banks : Merchants bills do not there circulate as with us : Usury or lending on interest is not direct- ly permitted ; so that many have large sums in their coffers : Great quantities, of plate are used in private houses ; and all the churches are full of it. By this means, provisions and labour still remain cheaper among them, than in nations that are not half so rich in gold and silver. The advantages of this situation, in point of trade as well as in great public emergencies, are too evident to be disputed. The same fashion a few years ago prevailed in Genoa, which still has place in England and Holland, of using services of money and rise of the prices. A good effect of this nature may follow too from pnper-credit; but it is dangerous to precipitate matters, at the risk of losing all by the failing of that credit, as must happen upon : ry violent shock in public affairs. 334 ES^AY V. CmNA-ware instead of plate; but the senate, foreseeing the consequence, prohibited the use of that brittle commodity be- yond a certain extent; while the use of silver-plate was left unlimited. And I suppose, in their late distresses, they felt the good effect of this ordinance. Our tax on plate is perhaps, in this view, somewhat impolitic. Before the introduction of paper-money into our colonies, they had gold and silver sufficient for their circulation. Since the introduction of that commodity, the least inconveniency that has followed is the total banishment of the precious metals. And after the abolition of paper, can it be doubted but money will return, while these colonies possess manufactures and com- modities, the only thing valuable in commerce, and for whose sake alone all men desire money. What pity Lycurgus did not think of paper-credit, when he wanted to banish gold and silver from Sparta ! It would have served his purpose better than the lumps of iron he made use of as money; and would also have prevented more effectually all commerce with strangers, as being of so much less real and in- trinsic value. It must, however, be confessed, that, as all these questions of trade and money are extremely complicated, there are certain lights, in which this subject may be placed so as to represent the advantages of paper-credit and banks to be superior to their disadvantages. That they banish specie and bullion from a state is undoubtedly true; and whoever looks no farther than this circumstance does well to condemn them ; but specie and bul- lion are not of so great consequence as not to admit of a com- pensation, and even an overbalance from the encrease of indus- try and of credit, which may be promoted by the right use of paper-money. It is well known of what advantage it is to a mer- chant to be able to discount his bills upon occasion; and every thing that facilitates this species of traffic is favourable to the OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 335 general commerce of a state. But private bankers are enabled to give such credit by the credit they receive from the depositing of money in their shops; and the bank of England in the same manner, from the liberty it has to issue its notes in all payments. There was an invention of this kind, which was fallen upon some years ago by the banks of Edinburgh ; and which, as it is one of the most ingenious ideas that has been executed in commerce, has also been thought advantageous to Scotland. It is there call- ed a Bank-Credit ; and is of this nature. A. man goes to the bank and finds surety to the amount, we shall suppose, of a thou- sand pounds. This money, or any part of it, he has the liberty of drawing out whenever he pleases, and he pays only the ordi- nary interest for it, while it is in his hands. He may, when he pleases, repay any sum so small as twenty pounds, and the in- terest is discounted from the very day of the repayment. The advantages, resulting from this contrivance, are manifold. As a man may find surety nearly to the amount of his substance, and his bank-credit is equivalent to ready money, a merchant does hereby in a manner coin his houses, his household furniture, the goods in his warehouse, the foreign debts due to him, his ships at sea; and can, upon occasion, employ them in all pay- ments, as if they were the current money of the country. If a man borrow a thousand pounds from a private hand, besides that it is not always to be found when required, he pays interest for it, whether he be using it or not: His bank-credit costs him no- thing except during the very moment, in which it is of service to him: And this circumstance is of equal advantage as if he had borrowed money at much lower interest. Merchants, likewise, from this invention, acquire a grea*t facility in. supporting each other's credit, which is a considerable security against bankrupt- cies. A man, when his own bank-credit is exhausted, goes to any of his neighbours who is not in the same condition; and he gets the money, which he replaces at his convenience. After this practice had taken place during some years at Kdinburgh. several companies of merchants at Glasgow car- 336 ESSAY V. ried the matter farther. They associated themselves into differ- ent banks, and issued notes so low as ten shillings, which they used in all payments for goods, manufactures, tradesmen's la- bour of all kinds; and these notes, from the established credit of the companies, passed as money in all payments throughout the country. By this means, a stock of five thousand pounds was able to perform the same operations as if it were six or seven ; and merchants were thereby enabled to trade to a great- er extent, and to require less profit in all their transactions. But whatever other advantages result from these inventions, it must still be allowed that, besides giving too great facility to credit, which is dangerous, they banish the precious metals; and nothing can be a more evident proof of it, than a comparison of the past and present condition of Scotland in that particu- lar. It was found, upon the recoinage made after the union, that there was near a million of specie in that country: But notwithstanding the great encrease of riches, commerce and manufactures of all kinds, it is thought, that, even where there is no extraordinary drain made by England, the current specie will not now amount to a third of that sum. But as our projects of paper-credit are almost the only expe- dient, by which we can sink money below its level; so, in my opinion, the only expedient, by which we can raise money above it, is a practice which we shorld all exclaim against as destruc- tive, namely, the gathering of large sums into a public treasure, locking them up, and absolutely preventing their circulation. The fluid, not communicating with the neighbouring element, may, by such an artifice, be raised to what height we please. To prove this, we need only return to our first supposition, of annihilating the half or any part of our cash; where we found, that the immediate consequence of such an event would be the attraction of an equal sum from all the neighbouring kingdoms. Nor does there seem to be any necessary bounds set, by the na- ture of things, to this practice of hoarding. A small city, like Geneva, continuing this policy for ages, might engross nine OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 337 tenths of the money of Europe. There seems, indeed, in the nature of man, an invincible obstacle to that immense growth of riches. A weak state, with an enormous treasure, will soon become a prey to some of its poorer, but more powerful neigh- bours. A great state would dissipate its wealth in dangerous and ill-concerted projects; and probably destroy, with it, what is much more valuable, the industry, morals and numbers of its people. The fluid, in this case, raised to too great a height, bursts and destroys the vessel that contains it; and mixing itself with the surrounding element, soon falls to its proper level. So little are we commonly acquainted with this principle, that, though all historians agree in relating uniformly so recent an event, as the immense treasure amassed by Harry VII. (which they make amount to 2,700,000 pounds,) we rather re- ject their concurring testimony, than admit of a fact, which agrees so ill with our inveterate prejudices. It is indeed pro- bable, that this sum might be three-fourths of all the money in England. But where is the difficulty in conceiving, that such a sum might be amassed in twenty years, by a cunning, rapaci- ous, frugal, and almost absolute monarch ? Nor is it probable, that the diminution of circulating money was ever sensibly felt by the people, or ever did them any prejudice. The sinking of the prices of all commodities would immediately replace it, by giving England the advantage in its commerce with the neigh- bouring kingdoms. Have we not an instance, in the small republic of Athens with its allies, who, in about fifty years* between the Median and Peloponnesian wars, amassed a sum not much inferior to that of Harry VII. ? For all the Greek historians* and ora- tors t agree, that the Athenians collected in the citadel more * Thuctdides, lib. ii. and Dior. Sic. lib. xii f Vid. JEscHiwiset Demosthenib Epist. T 2 338 ESSAY IV. than 10,000 talents, which they afterwards dissipated to their own ruin, in rash and imprudent enterprizes. But when this money was set a running, and began to communicate with the surrounding fluid ; what was the consequence ? Did it remain in the state ? No. For we find, by the memorable census men- tioned by Demosthenes and Polybius*, that, in about fifty years afterwards, the whole value of the republic, comprehend- ing lands, houses, commodities, slaves, and money, was less than 6000 talents. What an ambitious high-spirited people was this, to collect and keep in their treasury, with a view to conquests, a sum, which it was every day in the power of the citizens, by a single vote, to distribute among themselves, and which would have gone near to triple the riches of every individual ! For we must observe, that the numbers and private riches of the Athe- nians are said, by ancient writers, to have been no greater at the beginning of the Peloponnesian war, than at the beginning of the Macedonian. Money was little more plentiful in Greece during the age of Philip and Perseus, than in England during that of Harrt VII. Yet these two monarchs in thirty yearsf collected from the small kingdom of Macedon, a larger treasure than that of the English monarch. Paulus ^Emilius brought to Rome about 1,700,000 pounds Sterling.J Pliny says, 2,400,000§. And thatjwas but a part of the Macedonian treasure. The rest was dissipated by the resistance and flight of Perseus||. We may learn from Stanian, that the canton of Berne had 300,000 pounds lent at interest, and had above six times as much in tlieir'treasury. Here then is a sum hoarded of 1,800,000 * Lib. ii. cap. 62. y Titi Livn, lib. xiv. cap. 40. § Lib. xxxiii. cap. 3. $ Vsi. Patebc. lib. i. cap 9. i Titi Livii, ibid. OF THE BALANCE OS TRADE. 339 pounds Sterling, which is at least quadruple what should naturally circulate in such a petty state ; and yet no one, who travels in the Pais de Vaux, or any part of that canton, ob- serves any want of money more than could be supposed in a eountry of that extent, soil, and situation. On the contrary, there are scarce any inland provinces in the continent of France or Germany, where the inhabitants are at this time so opulent, though that canton has vastly encreased its treasure since 1714, the time when Stanian wrote his judicious account of Swit- zerland*. The account given by Appian| of the treasure of the Ptolo- mies, is so prodigious, that one cannot admit of it; and so much the less, because the historian says, that the other successors of Alexander were also frugal, and had many of them treasures not much inferior. For this saving humour of the neighbouring princes must necessarily have checked the frugality of the Egyp- tian monarchs, according to the foregoing theory. The sum he mentions is 740,000 talents, or 191,166,666 pounds 13 shillings and 4 pence, according to Dr. Arhurthnot's computa- tion. And yet Appian says, that he extracted his account from the public records; and he was himself a native of Alex- andria. From these principles we may learn what judgment we ought to form of those numberless bars, obstructions, and im- posts, which all nations of Europe, and none more than Eng- land, have put upon trade; from an exorbitant desire of amass- ing money, which never will heap up beyond its level, while it circulates ; or from an ill-grounded apprehension of losing their specie, which never will sink below it. Could any • The poverty which Stanian speaks of is only to be seen hi the most mountainous cantons, where there is no commodity to bring mqney. And even there the people are not poorer than in the diocese of Saltsburgk on the one hand, or Savot on the other. f Proem- 340 ESSAY V. thing scatter our riches, it would be such impolitic contrivan- ces. But this general ill effect, however, results from them* that they deprive neighbouring nations of that free communica- tion and exchange which the Author of the world has intended, by giving them soils, climates, and geniuses, so different from each other. Our modern politics embrace the only method of banishing mo- ney, the using of paper-credit; they reject the only method of amassing it, the practice of hoarding ; and they adopt a hundred contrivances, which serve to no purpose but to check industry, and rob ourselves and our neighbours of the common benefits' of art and nature. All taxes, however, upon foreign commodities, are not to be regarded as prejudicial or useless, but those only Whieh are founded on the jealodsy above-mentioned. A tax on German linen encourages home manufactures, and thereby multiplies our people and industry. A tax on brandy encreases the sale of rum, and supports our southern colonies. AndaS it is neces sary, that imposts should be levied, for the support of govern- ment, it may be thought more convenient to lay them on foreign commodities, which can easily be intercepted at the port, and subjected to the impost. We ought, however, always to remember the maxim of Dr. Swift, That, in the arithmetic of the customs, two and two make not four, but often make only one. It can scarcely be doubted, but if the duties on wine were lowered to a third, they would yield much more to the go- vernment than at present: Our people might thereby afford td drink commonly a better and more wholesome liquor; and tie prejudice would ensue to the balance of trade, of which we are so jealous. The manufacture of ale beyond the agriculture is but inconsiderable, and gives employment to few hands. The transport of wine and corn would not be much inferior. But are there not frequent instances, you will say, of states and kingdoms, which were formerly rich and opulent, and are OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 341 now poor and beggarly ? Has not the money left them, with which they formerly abounded ? I answer, If they lose their trade, industry, and people, they cannot expect to keep their gold and silver : For these precious metals will hold proportion to the former advantages. When Lisbon, and Amsterdam got the East-India trade from Venice and Genoa they also got the profits and money which arose from it. Where the seat of go- vernment is transferred, where expensive armies are maintained at a distance, where great funds are possessed by foreigners; there naturally follows from these causes a diminution of the specie. But these, we may observe, are violent and forcible me- thods of carrying away money, and are in time commonly attend- ed with the transport of people and industry. But where these remain, and the drain is not continued, the money always finds its way back again, by a hundred canals, of which we have no notion or suspicion. What immense treasures have been spent, by so many nations, in Flanders, since the revolution, in the course of three 1 ong wars ! More money perhaps than the half of what is at present in Europe. But what has now become of it? Is it in the narrow compass of the Austrian provinces ? No, surely : It has most of it returned to the several countries whence it came, and has followed that art and industry, by which at first it was acquired. For above a thousand years, the money of Europe has been flowing to Rome, by an »pen and sensible current; but it has been emptied by many secret and insensi- ble canals : And the want of industry and commerce renders at present the papal dominions the poorest territory in all Italy. In short, a government has great reason to preserve with care its people and its manufactures. Its money, it may safely trust to the course of human affairs, without fear or jealousy. Or if it ever give attention to this latter circumstance, it ought only to be so far as it affects the former. ESSAY VI. OF THE JEALOUSY OF TRADE. HAVING endeavoured to remove one species of ill-founded jealousy, which is so prevalent among commercial nations, it may not be amiss to mention another, which seems equally groundless. Nothing is more usual, among states which have made some advances in commerce, than to look on the progress of their neighbours with a suspicious eye, to consider all trading states as their rivals, and to suppose that it is impossible for any of them to flourish, but at their expence. In opposition to this narrow and malignant opinion, I will venture to assert, that the encrease of riches and commerce in any one nation, instead of hurting, commonly promotes the riches and commerce of all its neighbours ; and that a state can scarcely carry its trade and in- dustry very far, where all the surrounding states are buried in ignorance, sloth, and barbarism. It is obvious, that the domestic industry of a people cannot be hurt by the greatest prosperity of their neighbours; and as this branch of commerce is undoubtedly the most important in any extensive kingdom, we are so far removed from all reason of jealousy. But I go farther, and observe, that where an open com- munication is preserved among nations, it is impossible but the domestic industry of every one must receive an encrease from the improvements of the others. Compare the situation of Great Britain at present, with what it was two centuries ago. All the arts both of agriculture and manufactures were then ex- tremely rude and imperfect. Every improvement, which we 344 ESSAY VI. have since made, has arisen from our imitation of foreigners; and we ought so far to esteem it happy, that they had previously made advances in arts and ingenuity. But this intercourse is still upheld to our great advantage : Notwithstanding the advanced state of our manufactures, we daily adopt, in every art, the in - ventions and improvements of our neighbours. The commodi- ty is first imported from abroad, to our great discontent, while we imagine that it drains us of our money : Afterwards, the art itself is gradually imported, to our visible advantage : Yet we continue still to repine, that our neighbours should possess any art, industry, and invention ; forgetting that, had they not first instructed us, we should have been at present barbarians; and did they not still continue their instructions, the arts must fall into a state of languor, and lose that emulation and novelty, which contribute so much to their advancement. The encrease of domestic industry lays the foundation of fo- reign commerce. Where a great number of commodities are raised and perfected for the home-market, there will always be found some which can be exported with advantage. But if our neighbours have no art or cultivation, they cannot take them ; because they will have nothing to give in exchange. In this res- pect, states are in the same condition as individuals. A single man can scarcely be industrious, where all his fellow-citizens are idle. The riches of the several members of a community contribute to encrease my riches, whatever profession I may follow. They consume the produce of my industry, and afford me the produce of theirs in return. Nor needs any state entertain apprehensions, that their neigh- bours will improve to such a degree in every art and manufac- ture, as to have no demand from them. Nature, by giving a di- versity of geniuses, climates, and soils, to different nations, has secured their mutual intercourse and commerce, as long as they all remain industrious and civilized. Nay, the more the arts encrease in any state, the more will be its demands from its OF THE JEALOUSY OF TRADE, 345 industrious neighbours. The inhabitants, having become opulent and skilful, desire to have every commodity in the utmost per- fection ; and as they have plenty of commodities to give in ex- change, they make large importations from every foreign coun- try. The industry of the nations, from whom they import, re- ceives encouragement: Their own is also encreased, by the sale of the commodities which they give in exchange. But what if a nation has any staple commodity, such as the woollen manufacture is in England ? Must not the interfering of our neighbours in that manufacture be a loss to us ? I answer, that, when any commodity is denominated the staple of a king- dom, it is supposed that this kingdom has some peculiar and na- tural advantages from raising the commodity; and if, notwith- standing these advantages, they lose such a manufacture, they ought to blame their own idleness, or bad government, not the industry of their neighbours. It ought also to be considered, that, by the encrease of industry among the neighbouring nations, the consumption of every particular species of commodity is also encreased; and though foreign manufactures interfere with them in the market, the demand for their product may still con- tinue, or even encrease. And should it diminish, ought the con- sequence to be esteemed so fatal? If the spirit of industry be preserved, it may easily be diverted from one branch to another; and the manufacturers of wool, for instance, be employed in linen, silk, iron, or any other commodities, for which there ap- pears to be a demand. We need not apprehend, that all the objects of industry will be exhausted, or that our manufactur- ers, while they remain on an equal footing with those of our neighbours, will be in danger of wanting employment. The emulation among rival nations serves rather to keep industry alive in all of them : And any people is happier who possess a variety of manufactures, than if they enjoyed one single great manufacture, in which they are all employed. Their situation is less precarious; and they will feel less sensibly those revolu- IT 2 346 ESSAY VI. tions and uncertainties, to which, every particular branch of com- merce will always be exposed. .The only commercial state, that ought to dread the improve- ments and industry of their neighbours, is such a one as the Dutch, who enjoying no extent of land, nor possessing any number of native commodities, flourish only by their being the brokers and factors, and carriers of others. Such a people may naturally apprehend, that, as soon as the neighbouring states come to know and pursue their interest, they will take into their own hands the management of their affairs, and deprive their brokers of that profit, which they formerly reaped from it. But though this consequence may naturally be dreaded, it is very long before it takes place; and by art and industry it may be warded off for many generations, if not wholly eluded. The advantage of superior stocks and correspondence is so great, that it is not easily overcome; and as all the transactions en- crease by the encrease of industry in the neighbouring states, even a people whose commerce stands on this precarious basis, may at first reap a considerable profit from the flourishing condi- tion of their neighbours. The Dutch,having mortgaged all their revenues, make not such a figure in political transactions as for- merly ; but their commerce is surely equal to what it was in the middle of the last century, when they were reckoned among the great powers of Europe. Were our narrow and malignant politics to meet with success we should reduce all our neighbouring nations to the same state of sloth and ignorance that prevails in Morocco and the coast of Barrary. But what would be the consequence ? They could send us no commodities: They could take none from us: Our domestic commerce itself would languish for want of emula- tion, example, and instruction : And we ourselves should soon fall into the same abject condition, to which we had reduced them. I shall therefore venture to acknowledge, that, not only OF THE JEALOUSY OF TRADE. 347 as a man, but as a British subject, I pray for the flourishing commerce of Germany, Spain, Italy, and even France itself. I am at least certain, that Great Britain, and all those na- tions, would flourish more, did their sovereigns and ministers adopt such enlarged and benevolent sentiments towards each other. ESSAY VII. OF THE RALANCE OF POWER. IT is a question whether the idea of the balance of power be owing entirely to modern policy, or whether the phrase only has been invented in these later ages ? It is certain, that Xeno- phon*, in his Institution of C?rus, represents the combination of the Asiatic powers to have arisen from a jealousy of the en- creasing force of the Medes and Persians; and though that elegant composition should be supposed altogether a romance, this sentiment, ascribed by the author to the eastern princes, is at least a proof of the prevailing notion of ancient times. In all the politics of Greece, the anxiety, with regard to the balance of power, is apparent, and is expressly pointed out to us, even by the ancient historians. Thucydides t represents the league, which was formed against Athens, and which pro- duced the Peloponnesian war, as entirely owing to this princi- ple. And after the decline of Athens, when the Thehans and Lacedemonians disputed for sovereignty, we find, that the Athenians (as well as many other republics) always threw themselves into the lighter scale, and endeavoured to preserve the balance. They supported Thebes against Sparta, till the great victory gained by Epaminondas at Leuctra ; after which they immediately went over to the conquered, from ge- nerosity, as they pretended, but in reality from their jealousy of the conquerors J. • Lib. i. fLib. i. \ Xenoph- Hist. Gbaxc, lib. vi. & vii. 350 ESSAY VII. Whoever will read Demosthenes's oration for the Meoalo- politans, may see the utmost refinements on this principle, that ever entered into the head of a Venetian or English specula- tist. And upon the first rise of the Macedonian power, this orator immediately discovered the danger, sounded the alarm throughout all Greece, and at last assembled that confederacy under the banners of Athens, which fought the great and deci- sive battle of Chaeronea. It is true, the Grecian wars are regarded by historians as wars of emulation rather than of politics; and each state seems to have had more in view the honour of leading the rest, than any well-grounded hopes of authority and dominion. If we con- sider, indeed, the small number of inhabitants in any one repub- lic, compared to the whole, the great difficulty of forming sieges in ■■'■ose times, and the extraordinary bravery and discipline of very freeman among that noble people; we shall conclude, tha: the balance of power was, of itself, sufficiently secured in Gklece, and needed not to have been guarded with that cau- tion which may be requisite in other ages. But whether we as- cribe the shifting of sides in all the Grecian republics to jealous emulation or cautious politics, the effects were alike, and every prevailing power was sure to meet with a confederacy against it, and that often composed of its former friends and allies. The same principle, call it envy or prudence, which produced the Ostracism of Athens, and Petalism of Syracuse, and ex- pelled every citizen whose fame or power overtopped the rest; the same principle, I say, naturally discovered itself in foreign politics, and soon raised enemies to the leading state, however moderate in the exercise of its authority. The Persian monarch was really, in his force, a petty prince, compared to the Grecian republics; and therefore it behoved him, from views of safety more than from emulation, to interest himself in their quarrels, and to support the weaker side in ©F THE BALANCE OF POWER. 351 every contest. This was the advice given by Alcibiades to Tissaphernes*, and it prolonged near a century the date of the Persian empire; till the neglect of it for a moment, after the first appearance of the aspiring genius of Philip, brought that lofty and frail edifice to the ground with a rapidity of which tjiere are few instances in the history of mankind. The successors of Alexander showed great jealousy of the balance of power; a jealousy founded on true politics and pru- dence, and which preserved distinct for several ages the parti- tion made after the death of that famous conqueror. The for- tune and ambition of Antigonus f threatened them anew with a universal monarchy; but their combination, and their victory at Ipsus saved them. And in-subsequent times, we find, that, as the Eastern princes considered the Greeks and Macedoni- ans as the only real military force, with whom they had any in- tercourse, they kept always a watchful eye over that part of the world. The Ptolemies, in particular, supported first Aratus and the Achaeans, and then Cleomenes king of Sparta, from no other view than as a counterbalance to the Macedonian mo- narchs. For this is the account which Polybius gives of the Egyptian politics^. The reason, why it is supposed, that the ancients were en- tirely ignorant of the balance of power, seems to be drawn from ihe Roman history more than the Grecian ; and as the trans- actions of the former are generally more familiar to us, we have thence formed all our conclusions. It must be owned, that the Romans never met with any such general combination or confe- deracy against them, as might naturally have been expected from their rapid conquests and declared ambition ; but were al- lowed peaceably to subdue their neighbours, one after another, till they extended their dominion over the whole known world. * Thuctd. lib. viii. f Diod. Sic. lib. xx Lib. ii. cap. 51 3.52 ESSAY V. Not to mention the fabulous history of their Italic wars; there was, upon Hannibal's invasion of the Roman state, a remark- able crisis, which ought to have called up the attention of all civilized nations. It appeared afterwards (nor was it difficult to be observed at the time)* that this was a contest for univer- sal empire; yet no prince or state seems to have been in the least alarmed about the event or issue of the quarrel. Philip •f Macedon remained neuter, till he saw the victories of Han- nibal ; and then most imprudently formed an alliance with the conqueror, upon terms still more imprudent. He stipulated, that he was to assist the Carthaginian state in their conquest of Italy; after which they engaged to send over forces into Greece, to assist him in subduing the Grecian common- wealthsf. The Rhodian and Achaean republics are much celebrated by ancient historians from their wisdom and sound policy; yet both of them assisted the Romans in the wars against Philip and Antiochus. And what may be esteemed still a stronger proof, that this maxim was not generally known in those ages; no ancient author has remarked the imprudence of these mea- sures, nor has even blamed that absurd treaty above mentioned. made by Philip with the Carthaginians. Princes and states- men, in all ages, may, before-hand, be blinded in their reason- ings with regard to events: But it is somewhat extraordinary, that historians, afterwards, should not form a sounder judgment of them. Massinissa, Attalus, Prusias, in gratifying their private passions, were, all of them, the instruments of the Roman great- ness; and never seem to have suspected, that they were forg- * It was observed by some, as appears by the speech of Age lacs of Naupactum, in the general congress of Greece See Poltb. lib. v. cap. 104. f Titi Liyit, lib. x&iii. cap. 33 OF the balance of power. 353 ing their own chains, while they advanced the conquests of their ally. A simple treaty and agreement between Massinissa and the Carthaginians, so much required by mutual interest, bar- red the Romans from all entrance into Africa, and preserved liberty to mankind. The only prince we meet with in the Roman history who seems to have understood the balance of power, is Hiero king of Syracuse. Though the ally of Rome, he sent assistance to the Carthaginians, during the war of the auxiliaries; " Es- " teeming it requisite," says Polybius*, "both in order to re- u tain his dominions in Sicily, and to preserve the Roman " friendship, that Carthage should be safe; lest by its fall the •' remaining power should be able, without contrast or opposi- tion, to execute every purpose and undertaking. And here " he acted with great wisdom and prudence. For that is never " on any account, to be overlooked; nor ought such a force ever " to be thrown into one hand, as to incapacitate the neighbour- " ing states from defending their rights against it." Here is the aim of modern politics pointed out in express terms. In short, the maxim of preserving the balance of power is founded so much on common seuse and obvious reasoning, that it is impossible it could altogether have escaped antiquity, where we find, in other particulars, so many marks of deep penetra- tion and discernment. If it was not so generally known and acknowledged as at present, it had, at least, an influence on all the wiser and more experienced princes and politicians. And indeed, even at present, however generally known and acknow- ledged among speculative reasoners, it has not, in practice, an authority much more extensive among those who govern the world. After the fall of the Roman empire, the form of government, established by the northern conquerors, incapacitated them, in ♦Lib. i.cap. 83. X2 354 ESSAY VIL a great measure, for farther conquests, and long maintained each state in its proper boundaries. But when vassalage and the feudal militia were abolished, mankind were anew alarmed by the danger of universal monarchy, from the union of so many kingdoms and principalities in the person of the emperor Charles. But the power of the house of Austria, founded on extensive but divided dominions, and their riches, derived chief- ly from mines of gold and silver, were more likely to decay, of themselves, from internal defects, than to overthrow all the bul- warks raised against them. In less than a century, the force of that violent and haughty race was shattered, their opulence dissipated, their splendor eclipsed. A new power succeeded, more formidable to the liberties of Europe, possessing all the advantages of the former, and labouring under none of its de- fects ; except a share of that spirit of bigotry and persecution, with which the house of Austria was so long, and still is so much infatuated. In the general wars, maintained against this ambitious power, Great Britain has stood foremost; and she still maintains her station. Beside her advantages of riches and situation, her people are animated with such a national spirit, and are so fully sensible of the blessings of their government, that we may hope their vigour never will languish in so necessary and so just a cause. On the contrary, if we may judge by the past, their passionate ardour seems rather to require some mode- ration ; and they have oftener erred from a laudable excess than from a blamable deficiency. In the first place, we seem to have been more possessed with the ancient Greek spirit of jealous emulation, than actuated by the prudent views of modern politics. Our wars with France have been begun with justice, and even, perhaps, from necessity ; but have always been too far pushed from obstinacy and passion. The same peace, which was afterwards made at RYSwicxm i$9r ^as. offered so eariv as the year ninety-two;, QF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 355 that concluded at Utrecht in 1712 might have been finish- ed on as good conditions at Gertruvtenberg in the yeat eight; and we might have given at Frankfort, in 1743, the same terms, which we were glad to accept of at Aix-Ia-Cha- pelle in the year forty-eight. Here then we see, that above half of our wars with France, and all our public debts, are owing more to our own imprudent vehemence, than to the ambi- tion of our neighbours. In the second place, we are so declared in our opposition to French power, and so alert in defence of our allies, that they always reckon upon our force as upon their own ; and expecting to carry on war at our expence, refuse all reasonable terms of accommodation. Habent subjectos, tanquam suos ; viles, ut alie- nos. All the world knows, that the factious vote of the House of Commons, in the beginning of the last parliament, with the professed humour of the nation, made the queen of Hungary inflexible in her terms, and prevented that agreement with Prussia, which would immediately have restored the general tranquillity of Europe. In the third place, we are such true combatants, that, when once engaged, we lose all concern for ourselves and our poste- rity, and consider only how we may best annoy the enemy. To mortgage our revenues at so deep a rate, in wars, where we were only accessories, was surely the most fatal delusion, that a nation, which had any pretension to politics and prudence, has ever yet been guilty of. That remedy of funding, if it be a remedy, and notrather a poison, ought, in all reason, to be re- served to the last extremity; and no evil, but the greatest and most urgent, should ever induce us to embrace so dangerous an expedient. These excesses, to which we have been carried, are prejudi- cial ; and may, perhaps, in time become still more prejudicial another way? by begetting, as is usual, the opposite extreme, and 356 ESSAY VII. rendering us totally careless and supine with regard to the fate of Europe. The Athenians from the most bustling, intriguing, warlike people of Greece, finding their error in thrusting themselves into every quarrel, abandoned all attention to fo- reign affairs ; and in no contest ever took part on either side, except by their flatteries and complaisance to the victor. Enormous monarchies are probably, destructive to human na- ture ; in their progress, in their continuance,* and even in their downfall, which never can be very distant from their establish- ment. The military genius, which aggrandized the monarchy, •oon leaves the court, the capital, and the centre of such a go- vernment ; while the wars are carried on at a great distance, and interest so small a part of the state. The ancient nobility, whose affections attach them to their sovereign, live all at court; and never will accept of military employments, which would carry them to remote and barbarous frontiers, where they are distant both from their pleasures and their fortune. The arms of the state, must, therefore, be entrusted to mercenary strangers, without zeal, without attachment, without honour ; ready on every occasion to turn them against the prince, and join each desperate malcontent, who offers pay and plunder. This is the necessary progress of human affairs : Thus human nature checks itself in its airy elevation : Thus ambition blind- ly labours for the destruction of the conqueror, of his family, and of every thing near and dear to him. The Bourbons, trusting to the support of their brave, faithful, and affectionate nobility, would push their advantage, without reserve or limi- tation. These, while fired with glory and emulation, can bear the fatigues and dangers of war ; but never would submit to languish in the garrisons of Hungary or Lithuania, forgot at court, and sacrificed to the intrigues of every minion or mis- tress, who approaches the prince. The troops are filled with * If the Rohan empire was of advantage, it could only proceed from this,t^at mankind were generally in a very disorderly, uncivilized condi- tion, before its establishment. OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 357 Cravates and Tartars, Hussars and Cossacs ; intermin- gled, perhaps, with a few soldiers of fortune from the bet- ter provinces : And the melancholy fate of the Roman empe- rors, from the same cause, is renewed over and over again, till the final dissolution of the monarchy. ESSAY VIII. of taxes. THERE is a prevailing maxim, among some reasoners, thai every new tax creates a new ability in the subject to bear it, and that each encrease of public burdens encreasesproportionably the industry of the people. This maxim is of such a nature as is most likely to be abused; and is so much the more dangerous, as its truth cannot be altogether denied: but it must be owned, when kept within certain bounds, to have some foundation in reason and experience. When a tax is laid upon commodities, which are consumed by the common people, the necessary consequence may seem to be, either that the poor must retrench something from their way of living, or raise their wages, so as to make the burden of the tax fall entirely upon the rich. But there is a third conse- quence, which often follows upon taxes, namely, that the poor encrease their industry, perform more work, and live as well as before, without demanding more for their labour. Where tax- es are moderate, are laid on gradually, and effect not the neces- saries of life, this consequence naturally follows; and it is cer- tain, that such difficulties often serve to excite the industry of a people, and render them more opulent and laborious, than others, who enjoy the greatest advantages. For we may observe, as a parallel instance, that the most commercial nations have not al- ways possessed the greatest extent of fertile land; but, on the contrary, that they have laboured under many natural disadvan- tages. Tyre, Athens, Carthage, Rhodes, Genoa, Venice Holland, are strong examples to this purpose. And in all his- 360 ESSAY VIII. tory, we find only three instances of large and fertile countries. which have possessed much trade; the Netherlands,England, and France. The two former seem to have been allured by the advantages of their maritime situation, and the necessity they lay under of frequenting foreign ports, in order to procure what their own climate refused them. And as to France, trade has come late into that kingdom, and seems to have been the effect of reflection and observation in an ingenious and enterprizing people, who remarked the riches acquired by such of the neigh- bouring nations as cultivated navigation and commerce. The.places mentioned by Cicero *, as possessed of the great- est commerce in his time, are Alexandria, Colchus, Tyre, Sidon, Andros, Cyprus, Pamphylia,Lycia, Rhodes, Chios, Byzantium, Lesbos, Smyrna, Miletum, Coos. All these, ex- cept Alexandria, were either small islands or narrow territo- ries. And that city owed its trade entirely to the happiness of its situation. Since therefore some natural necessities or disadvantages may be thought favourable to industry, why may1 not artificial bur- dens have the same effect ? Sir William Temple!, we may ob- serve, ascribes the industry of the Dutch entirely to necessity, proceeding from their natural'disadvantages; and illustrates his doctrine by a striking comparison with Ireland ; " where," says he, "by the largeness and plenty of the soil, and scarcity " of people, all things necessary to life are so cheap, that an " industrious man, by two days labour, may gain enough to feed " him the rest of the week. Which I take to be a very plain "ground of the laziness attributed to the people. For men na- •' turally prefer ease before labour, and will not take pains if " they can ljve idle; though when, by necessity, they have been "inured to it, they cannot leave it, being grown a custom ne- " cessary to their health, and to their very entertainment. Not * Epist. ad Att. lib. ix. ep. 11. f Account of the. Netherianbs, chap. 6. OF TABLES. 361 " perhaps is the change harder, from constant ease to labour, " than from constant labour to ease." After which the author proceeds to confirm his doctrine, by enumerating, as above, the places where trade has most flourished, in ancient and modern times; and which are commonly observed to be such narrow confined territories, as beget a necessity for industry. The best taxes are such as are levied upon consumptions es* pecially those of luxury; because such taxes are least felt by the people. They seem, in some measure, voluntary; since a man may chuse how far he will use the commodity which is taxed: They are paid gradually and insensibly: They natural- ly produce sobriety and frugality, if judiciously imposed : And being confounded with the natural price of the commodity, they are scarcely perceived by the consumers. Their only disadvan- tage is, that they are expensive in the letying. Taxes upon possessions are levied without expence; but have every other disadvantage. Most states, however, are obliged to have recourse to them, in order to supply the deficiencies of the other. But the most pernicious of all taxes are the arbitrary. They are commonly converted, by their management, into punish- ments on industry; and also, by their unavoidable inequality, are more grievous, than by the real burden which they impose. It is surprising, therefore, to see them have place among any ci- vilized people. In general, all poll-taxes, even when not arbitrary, which they commonly are, may be esteemed dangerous: Because it is so easy for the sovereign to add a little more, and a little more, to the sum demanded, that these taxes are apt to become altogeth- er oppressive and intolerable. On the other hand, a duty upon commodities checks itself; and a prince will soon find, that an encrease of the impost is no encrease of bis revenue. It is not Y2 362 ESSAY VIII. easy, therefore for a people to be altogether ruined by such taxes. Historians inform us, that one of the chie*f causes of the de- struction of the Roman State, was the alteration, which Con- stantine introduced into the finances, by substituting an uni- versal poll-tax, in lieu of almost all the tithes, customs, and ex- cises, which formerly composed the revenue of the empire, The people, in all the provinces, were so grinded and oppress- ed by the publicans, that they were glad to take refuge under the conquering arms of tlie barbarians; whose dominion, as they had fewer necessities and less art, was found preferable to the refined tyranny of the Romans. It is an opinion, zealously promoted by some political wri- ters, that, since all taxes, as they pretend, fall ultimately upon land, it were better to lay them originally there, and abolish every duty upon consumptions. But it is denied, that all taxes fall ultimately upon land. If a duty be laid upon any commo- dity, consumed by an artisan, he has two obvious expedients for paying it; he may retrench somewhat of his expence, or he may encrease his labour. Both these resources are more easy and natural, than that of heightening his wages. We see, that, in years of scarcity, the weaver either consumes less or labours more, or employs both these expedients of frugality and indus- try, by which he is enabled to reach the end of the year. It is but just, that he should subject himself to the same hardsliips, if they deserve the name, for the sake of the public, which gives him protection. By what contrivance can he raise the price of his labour ? The manufacturer who employs him, will not give him more: Neither can he, because the merchant, who exports the cloth, cannot raise its price, being limited by the price which it yields in foreign markets. Every man, to be sure, is desirous of pushing off from himself the burden of any tax, which is im- posed, and of laying it upon others: But as every man has the same inclination, and is upon the defensive; no set of men can OF TAXE« 263 be supposed to prevail altogether in this contest. And why the landed gentleman should be the victim of the whole, and should not be able to defend himself, as well as others are, I cannot readily imagine. All tradesmen, indeed, would willingly prey upon him, and divide him among them, if they could : But this inclination they always have, though no taxes were levied ; and the same methods, by which he guards against the imposition of tradesmen before taxes, will serve him afterwards, and make them share the burden with him. They must be very heavy taxes, indeed, and very injudiciously levied, which the artisan will not, of himself, be enabled to pay, by superior industry and frugality, without raising the price of his labour. I shall conclude this subject with observing, that we have, with regard to taxes, an instance of what frequently happens in political institutions, that the consequences of things are diame- trically opposite to what we should expect on the first appear- ance. It is regarded as a fundamental maxim of the Turkish government, that the Grand Signior, though absolute master of the lives and fortunes of each individual, has no authority to impose a new tax; and every Ottoman prince, who has made such an attempt, either has been obliged to retract, or has found the fatal effects of his perseverance. One would imagine, that this prejudice or established opinion were the firmest barrier in the world against oppression ; yet it is certain, that its effect is quite contrary. The emperor, having no regular method of en- creasing his revenue, must allow all the bashaws and governors to oppress and abuse the subjects: And these he squeezes after their return from their government. Whereas, if he could im- pose a new tax, like our European princes, his interest would so far be united with that of his people, that he would immedi ately feel the bad effects of these disorderly levies of money, and would find, that a pound, raised by a general imposition, would have less pernicious effects, than a shilling taken in so unequal and arbitrary a manner. ESSAY IX. OF public crkdit. IT appears to have been the common practice of antiquity, to make provision, during peace, for the necessities of war, and to hoard up treasures before-hand, as the instruments either of conquest or defence; without trusting to extraordinary imposi- tions, much less to borrowing, in times of disorder and confusion. Besides the immense sums above mentioned*, which were amassed by Athens and by the Ptolemies, and other succes- sors of Alexander ; we learn from PlatoI, that the frugal Lacedemonians had also collected a great treasure ; and Ar- rian $ and Plutarch|| take notice of the riches which Alexan- der got possession of on the conquest of Susa and Ecbatana, and which were reserved, some of them, from the time of Cy- rus. If I remember right, the scripture also mentions the trea- sure of Hezekiah and the Jewish princes; as profane history does that of Philip and Perseus, kings of Macedon. The ancient republics of Gaul had commonly large sums in re- serve^ Every one knows the treasure seized in Rome by Ju- lius CjEsar, during the civil wars: and we find afterwards, that the wiser emperors, Augustus, Tiberius, Vespasian, Seve- rus, 8fc. always discovered the prudent foresight, of saving great sums against any public exigency. ♦ Essay V. f Alcib. i. * Lib. iii, D Plot, in vita Alex. He makes these treasures amount to 80,000 ta. lents, or about 15 millions sterl. Quihtus Cubitus (lib. v. cap. 2.) says, that Alexander found in Susa above 50,000 talents. § Stbabo, lib. iv. 366 ESSAY IX. On the contrary, our modern expedient, which has become very general, is to mortage the public revenues, and to trust that posterity will pay off the incumbrances contracted by their an- cestors : And they, having before their eyes, so good an exam- ple of their wise fathers, have the same prudent reliance on their posterity; who, at last, from necessity more than choice, are obliged to place the same confidence in a new posterity. But not to waste time in declaiming against a practice which appears ruinous, beyond all controversy; it seems pretty appar- ent, that the ancient maxims are, in this respect, more prudent than the modern ; even though the latter had been confined with- in some reasonable bounds, and had ever, in any instance, been attended with such frugality, in time of peace, as to discharge the debts incurred by an expensive war. For why should the case be so different between the public and an individual, as to make us establish different maxims of conduct for each ? If the funds of the former be greater, its necessary expenses are pro- portionably larger; if its resources be more numerous, they are not infinite; and as its frame should be calculated for a much longer duration than the date of a single life, or even of a fami- ly, it should embrace maxims, large, durable, and generous, agreeably to the supposed extent of its existence. To trust to chances and temporary expedients, is, indeed, what the neces- sity of human affairs frequently renders unavoidable; but who- ever voluntarily depend on such resources, have not necessity, but their own folly, to accuse for their misfortunes, when any such befal them. If the abuses of treasures be dangerous, either by engaging the state in rash enterprizes, or making it neglect military disci- pline, in consequence of its riches ; the abuses of mortgaging are more certain and inevitable; poverty, impotence, and sub- jection to foreign powers. According to modern policy war is attended with every de- structive circumstance; loss of men, encrease of taxes, decay OF FUHLIO CREDIT. 36r of commerce, dissipation of money, devastation by sea and land. According to ancient maxims, the opening of the public treasure, as it produced an uncommon affluence of gold and silver, served as a temporary encouragement to industry, and atoned, in some degree, for the inevitable calamities of war. It i>s very tempting to a minister to employ such an expedi- ent, as enables him to make a great figure during his administra- tion, without overburthening the people with taxes, or exciting any immediate clamours against himself. The practice, there- fore, of contracting debt will almost infallibly be abused, in every government. It would scarcely be more imprudent to give a prodigal son a credit in every banker's shop in London, than to impower a statesman to draw bills, in this manner, upon posterity. What then shall we say to the new paradox, that public in- cumbrances, are, of themselves, advantageous, independent of the necessity of contracting them ; and that any state, even though it were not pressed by a foreign enemy, could not possibly have embraced a wiser expedient for promoting com- merce and riches, than to create funds, and debts, and taxes, without limitation ? Reasonings, such as these might naturally have passed for trials of wit among rhetoricians, like the pane- gyrics on folly and a fever, on Busiris and Nero, had we not seen such absurd maxims patronized by great ministers, and by a whole party among us. Let us examine the consequences of public debts^bothin our domestic management, by their influence on commerce and in- dustry ; and in our foreign transactions, by their effect on wars and negotiations. Public securities are with us become a kind of money, and pass as readily at the current price as gold or silver. Wher- ever any profitable undertaking offers itself, how expensive 368 ESSAY IX. soever, there are never wanting hands enough to embrace it; nor need a trader, who has sums in the public stocks, fear to launch out into the most extensive trade ; since he is possessed of funds, which will answer the most sudden demand that can be made upon him. No merchant thinks it necessary to keep by him any considerable cash. Bank-stock, or India bonds, especially the latter, serve all the same purposes ; because he can dispose of them, or pledge them to a banker, in a quarter of an hour ; and at the same time they are not idle, even when in his scri- toire, but bring him in a constant revenue. In short, our na- tional debts furnish merchants with a species of money, that is eontinually multiplying in their hands, and produces sure gain, besides the profits of their commerce. This must enable them to trade upon less profit. The small profit of the merchant renders the commodity cheaper, causes'a greater consumption, quickens the labour of the common people, and helps to spread arts and industry throughout the whole society. There are also, we may observe in England and in all states, which have both commerce and public debts, a set of men, who are half merchants, half stock-holders, and may be supposed willing to trade for small profits ; because commerce i& not their principal or sole support, and their revenues in the funds are a sure resource for themselves and their families. Were there no funds, great merchants would have no expedient for realizing or securing any part of their profit, but by making pur- chases of land; and land has many disadvantages in compari- son of funds. Requiring more care and inspection, it divides the time and attention of the merchant; upon any tempting offer or extraordinary accident in trade, it is not so easily converted into money; and as it attracts too much, both by the many natural pleasures it affords, and the authority it gives, it soon converts the citizen into the country gentle- man. More men, therefore, with large stocks and incomes, may naturally be supposed to continue in trade, where there are public debts; and this, it must be owned is of some OF PURLIC CREDIT. 369 is of some advantage to commerce, by diminishing its profits, promoting circulation, and encouraging industry. But, in opposition to these two favourable circumstances, perhaps of no very great importance, weigh the many disadvan- tages which attend our public debts, in the whole interior ceco- nomy of the state: You will find no comparison between the ill and the good which result from them. First, It is certain, that national debts cause a mighty con- fluence of people and riches to the capital, by the great sums, levied in the provinces to pay the interest; and perhaps, too, by the advantages in trade above mentioned, which they give the merchants in the capital above the rest of the kingdom. The question is, whether, in our case, it be for the public in- terest, that so many privileges should be conferred on London, which has already arrived at such an enormous size, and seems still encreasing ? Some men are apprehensive of the conse- quences. For my own part, I cannot forbear thinking, that, though the head is undoubtedly too large for the body, yet that great city is so happily situated, that its excessive bulk causes less inconvenience than even a smaller capital to a greater king- dom. There is more difference between the prices of all pro- visions in Paris and Languedoc, than between those in Lon- don and Yorkshire. The immense greatness, indeed, of Lon- don, under a government which admits not of discretionary power, renders the people factious, mutinous, seditious, and even perhaps rebellious. But to this evil the national debts themselves tend to provide a remedy. The first visible erup- tion, or even immediate danger, of public disorders must alarm all the stock-holders, whose property is the most precarious of any; and will make them fly te the support of government. Whether menaced by Jacobitish violence or democratical frenxy. Secondly, Public stocks, being a kind of paper-credit, have ail the disadvantages attending that species of meney. They Z2 370 ESSAY IX. banish sold and silver from the most considerable commerce of the state, reduce them to common circulation, and by that means render all provisions and labour dearer than otherwise they would be. Thirdly, The taxes, which are levied to pay the interests of these debts, are apt either to heighten the price of labour, or be an oppression on the poorer sort. Fourthly, As foreigners possess a great share of our national funds, they render the public, in a manner tributary to them, and may in time occasion the transport of our people and our industry. Fifthly, The greater part of the public stock being always in the hands of idle people, who live on their revenue, our funds, in that view, give great encouragement to an useless and unac- tive life. But though the injury, that arises to commerce and industry from our public funds, will appear, upon balancing the whole, not inconsiderable, it is trivial, in comparison of the prejudice that results to the state considered as a body politic, which must support itself in the society of nations, and have various trans- actions with other states in wars and negociations. The ill, there, is pure and unmixed, without any favourable circum- stance to atone for it; and it is an ill too of a nature the high- est and most important. We have, indeed, been told, that the public is no weaker up- on account of its debts; since they are mostly due among our- selves, and bring as much property to one as they take from another. It is like transferring money from the right hand to the left; which leaves the person neither richer nor poorer than before. Such loose reasonings and specious comparisons will always pass, where we judge not upon principles. I ask, Is it OF PURLIC CREDIT. 371 possible, in the nature of things, to overburthen a nation with taxes, even where the sovereign resides among them? The very doubt seems extravagant; since it is requisite, in every community, that there be a certain proportion observed between the laborious and the idle part of it. But if all our present taxes be mortgaged, must we not invent new ones P And may not this matter be carried to a length that is ruinous and de- structive P In every nation, there are always some methods of levying money more easy than others, agreeably to the way pf living of the people, and the commodities they make use of. In Great Britain, the excises upon malt and beer afford a large revenue; because the operations of malting and brewing are tedious, and are impossible to be concealed; and at the same time, these commodities are not so absolutely necessary to life, as that the raising of their price would very much affect the poorer sort. These taxes being all mortgaged, what difficulty to find new ones ! what vexation and ruin of the poor! Duties upon consumptions are more equal and easy than those upon possessions. What a loss to the public, that the former are all exhausted, and that we must have recourse to the more grievous method of levying taxes! Were all the proprietors of land only stewards to the public, must not necessity force them to practice all the arts of oppres- sion used by stewards; where the absence or negligence of the proprietor render them secure against enquiry ? It will scarcely be asserted, that no bounds ought ever to, be set to national debts ; and that the public would be no weaker, were twelve or fifteen shillings in the pound, land-tax, mortgag- ed, with all the present customs and excises. There is some- thing, therefore, in the case, beside the mere transferring of property from the one hand to another. In 500 years, the poste* 372 ESSAY IX. rity of those now in the coaches, and of those upon the boxes, will probably have changed places, without affecting the public by these revolutions. Suppose the public once fairly brought to that condition, to which it is hastening with such amazing rapidity; suppose the land to be taxed eighteen or nineteen shillings in the pound; for it can never bear the whole twenty; suppose all the excises and customs to be screwed up to the utmost which the nation can bear, without entirely losing its commerce and industry; and suppose that all those funds are mortgaged to perpetuity, and that the invention and wit of all our projectors can find no new imposition, which may serve as the foundation of a new loan; and let us consider the necessary consequences of this situation. Though the imperfect state of our political know- ledge, and the narrow capacities of men, make it difficult to fbretel the effects which will result from any untried measure, the seeds of ruin are here scattered with such profusion as not to escape the eye of the most careless observer. In this unnatural state of society, the only persons, who pos- sess any revenue beyond the immediate effects of their industry, are the stock-holders, who draw almost all the rent of the land and houses, besides the produce of all the customs and excises. These are men, who have no connexions with the state, who can enjoy their revenue in any part of the globe in which they chuse to reside, who will naturally bury themselves in the capi- tal or in great cities, and who will sink into the lethargy of a stupid and pampered luxury, without spirit, ambition, or enjoy- ment. Adieu to all ideas of nobility, gentry, and family. The stocks can be transferred in an instant, and being in such a fluc- tuating state, will seldom be transmitted during three genera- tions from father to son. Or were they to remain ever so long in one family, they convey no hereditary authority or credit to the possessor; and by this means, the several ranks of men, which form a kind of independent magistracy in a state, insti- OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 373 tuted by the hand of nature, are entirely lost; and every man in authoritv derives his influence from the commission alone of the sovereign. No expedient remains for preventing or suppres- sing insurrections, but mercenary armies: No expedient at all remains for resisting tyranny: Elections are swayed by bribe- ry and corruption alone : And the middle power between king and people being totally removed, a grievous despotism must infallibly prevail. The landholders, despised for their poverty, and hated for their oppressions^ will be utterly unable to make any opposition to it. Though a resolution should be formed by the legislature never to impose any tax which hurts commerce and discourages in- dustry, it will be impossible for men, in subjects of such extreme delicacy, to reason so justly as never to be mistaken, or amidst difficulties so urgent, never to be seduced from their resolution. The continual fluctuations in commerce require continual altera- tions in the nature of the taxes; which exposes the legislature every moment to the danger both of wilful and involuntary er- ror. And any great blow given to trade, whether by injudicious taxes or by other accidents, throws the whole system of govern- ment into confusion. But what expedient can the public now employ, even suppos- ing trade to continue in the most flourishing condition, in order to support its foreign wars and enterprises, and to defend its own honour and interests, or those of-its allies ? I do not ask how the public is to exert such a prodigious power as it has main- tained during our late wars ; where we have so much exceeded, not only our own natural strength, but even that of the great- est empires. This extravagance is the abuse complained of, as the source of all the dangers, to which, we are at present expos- ed. But since we must still suppose great commerce and opu- lence to remain, even after every fund is mortgaged; these rich- es must be defended by proportional power; and whence is the public to derive the revenue which supports it? It must plain- 374 ESSAY IX. ly be from a continual taxation of the annuitants, or which is the same thing, from mortgaging anew, on every exigency, a certain part of their annuities; and thus making them contri- bute to their own defence, and to that of the nation. But the difficulties, attending this system of policy, will easily appear, whether we suppose the king to have become absolute master, or to be still controuled by national councils, in which the an- nuitants themselves must necessarily bear the principal sway. If the prince has become absolute, as may naturally be expect- ed from this situation of affairs, it is so easy for him to encrease his exactions upon the annuitants, which amount only to the re- taining money in his own hands, that this species of property woul 1 soon lose all its credit, and the whole income of every individual in the state must lie entirely at the mercy of the so\ ereign : A degree of despotism, which no oriental monarchy has ever yet attained. If, on the contrary, the consent of the annuitants be requisite for every taxation, they will never be persuaded to contribute sufficiently even to the support of go- vernment; as the diminution of their revenue must in that case be very sensible, would not be disguised under the appear ancc of a branch of excise or customs, and would not be shared by any other order of the state, who are already supposed to be taxed to the utmost. There are instances, in some republics, of a hundredth penny, and sometimes of the fiftieth, being given to the support of the state; but this is always an extraordina- ry exertion of power, and can never become the foundation of a constant national defence. We have always found, where a government has mortgaged all its revenues, that it necessarily sinks into a state of languor, inactivity, and impotence. Such are the inconveniencies, which may reasonably be fore- seen, of this situation, to which Great Britain is visibly tend- ing. Not to mention, the numberless inconveniencies, which cannot be foreseen, and which must result from so monstrous a situation as that of making the public the chief or sftle proprie-; OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 375 tor of land, besides investing it with every branch of customs and excise, which the fertile imagination of ministers and pro- jectors have been able to invent. I must confess, that there is a strange supineness, from long custom, creeped into all ranks of men, with regard to public debts, not unlike what divines so vehemently complain of with regard to their religious doctrines. We all own, that the most sanguine imagination cannot hope, either that this or any fu- ture ministry will be possessed of such rigid and steady frugal- ity, as to make a considerable progress in the payment of our debts; or that the situation of foreign affairs will, for any long time, allow them leisure and tranquillity for such an undertak- ing. What then is to become of us? Were we ever so good Christians, and ever so resigned to Providence; this, methinks, were a curious question, even considered as a speculative one, and what it might not to be altogether impossible to form some conjectural solution of. The events here will depend little upon the contingencies of battles, negociations, intrigues, and factions. There seems to be a natural progress of things, which may guide our reasoning. As it would have required but a moderate share of prudence, when we first began this practice of mortgaging, to have foretold, from the nature of men and of ministers, that things would necessarily be carried to the length we see; so now, that they have at last happily reached it, it may not be difficult to guess at the consequences. It must, in- deed, be one of these two events ; either the nation must destroy public credit, or public credit will destroy the nation. It is impossible that they can both subsist, after the manner they have been hitherto managed, in this, as well as in some other countries. There was, indeed, a scheme for the payment of our debts, which was proposed by an excellent citizen, Mr. Hutchinson, above thirty years ago, and which was much approved of by- some men of sense, but never was likely to take effect. He 376 ESSAY IX. asserted, that there wa9 a fallacy in imagining that the public owed this debt; for that really every individual owed a pro- portional share of it. and paid, in his taxes, a proportional share of the interest, beside the expence of levying these taxes. Had we not better, then, says he, make a distribution of the debt % among ourselves, and each of us contribute a sum suitable to his property, and by that means discharge at once all our funds and public mortgages ? He seems not to have considered, that the laborious poor pay a considerable part of the taxes by their annual consumptions, though they could not advance, at once, a proportional part of the sum required. Not to men- tion, that property in money and stock in trade might easily be Concealed or disguised ; and that visible property in lands and houses would really at last answer for the whole : An inequa- lity and oppression, which never would be submitted to. But though this project is not likely to take place ; it is not alto- gether improbable, that, when the nation becomes heartily sick of their debts, and is cruelly oppressed by them, some daring projector may arise with visionary schemes for their discharge. And as public credit will begin, by that time, to be a little frail, the least touch will destroy it, as happened in France during the regency ; and in this manner it will die of the doctor. But it is more probable, that the breach of national faith will be the necessary effect of wars, defeats, misfortunes, and pub- lic calamities, or even perhaps of victories and conquests. I must confess, when I see princes and states fighting and quar- relling, amidst their debts, funds, and public mortgages, it al- ways brings to my mind a match of cudgel-playing fought in a C%ina-shop. How can it be expected, that sovereigns will spare a species of property, which is pernicious to themselves and to the public, when they have so little compassion on lives and properties, that are useful to both ? Let the time come (and surely it will come) when the new funds,-created for the exigencies of the year, are not subscribed to, a-id raise not the money projected. Suppose, either that the cash of the nation OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 377 is exhausted ; or that our faith, which has hitherto been so am- ple, begins to fail us. Suppose, that, in this distress, the na- tion is threatened with an invasion ; a rebellion is suspected or broken out at home ; a squadron cannot be equipped for want of pay, victuals, or repairs ; or even a foreign subsidy can- not be advanced. What must a prince or minister do in such an emergence ? The right of self-preservation is unalienable in every individual, much more in every community. And the folly of our statesmen must then be greater than the folly of those who first contracted debt, or, what is more, than that of those who trusted, or continue to trust this security, if these statesmen have the means of safety in their hands, and do not employ them. The funds, created and mortgaged, will, by that time, bring in a large yearly revenue, sufficient for the defence and security of the nation : Money is perhaps lying in the ex- chequer, ready for the discharge of the quarterly interest: Ne- cessity calls, fear urges, reason exhorts, compassion alone, ex- claims : The money will immediately be seized for the current service, under the most solemn protestations, perhaps, of being immediately replaced. But no more is requisite. The whole fabric, already tottering, falls to the ground, and buries thou- sands in its ruins. And this, I think, may be called the natural death of public credit: For to this period it tends as naturally as. an animal body to its dissolution and destruction. So great dupes are the generality of mankind, that, notwith- standing such a violent shock to public credit, as a voluntary bankruptcy in England would occasion, it would not probably be long ere credit would again revive in as flourishing a condi- tion as before. The present king of France, during the late war, borrowed money at a lower interest than ever his grand- father did ; and as low as the British parliament, comparing the natural rate of interest in both kingdoms. And though men are commonly more governed by what they have seen, than by what they foresee, with whatever certainty;' yet pro- mises, protestations, fair appearances, with the allurements of A3 378 KSSAY IX. present interest, have such powerful influence as few are able to resist. Mankind are, in all ages, caught by the same baits : The same tricks, played over and over again, still trepan them. The heights of popularity and patriotism are still the beaten road to power and tyranny; flattery to treachery; standing ar- mies to arbitrary government; and the glory of God to the tem- poral interest of the clergy. The fear of an everlasting de- struction of credit, allowing it to be an evil, is a needless bugbear. A prudent man, in reality, would rather lend to the public immediately after we had taken a spunge to our debts, than at present; as much as an opulent knave, even though one could not force him to pay, is a preferable debtor to an honest bankrupt: For the former, in order to carry on business, may find it his interest to discharge his debts, where they are not exorbitant: The latter has it not in his power. The reasoning of Tacitus*, as it is eternally true, is very applicable to our pre- sent case. Sed vulgus ad magnitudinem beneficiorum aderat: Stultissimus quisque pecuniis mercabatur: Apud sapientes cas- aa habebantur, quoe neque dari neque aceipi, salva republica, poterant. The public is a debtor, whom no man can oblige to pay. The only check which the creditors have upon her, is the interest of preserving credit; and interest, which may ea- sily be overbalanced by a great debt, and by a difficult and ex- traordinary emergence, even supposing that credit irrecovera- ble. Not to mention, that a present necessity often forces states into measures, which are strictly speaking against their interest. These two events, supposed ah«»ve, are calamitous, but not the most calamitous. Thousands are thereby sacrificed to the safety of millions. But we are not without danger, that the contrary event may take place, and that millions may be sacri- ficed for ever to the temporary safety of thousands.! Our po- pular government, perhaps, will render it difficult or dangerous * Hist. lib. iii*. t See note [S.] OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 379 for a minister to venture on so desperate an expedient, as that of a voluntary bankruptcy. And though the house of Lords be altogether composed of proprietors of land, and the house of Commons chiefly ; and consequently neither of them can be supposed to have great property in the funds. Yet the connec- tions of the members may be so great with the proprietors, as to render them more tenacious of public faith, than prudence, policy, or even justice, strictly speaking, requires. And per- haps too, Our foreign enemies may be so politic as to discover, that our safety lies in despair, and may not, therefore, show the danger, open and barefaced, till it be inevitable. The balance of power in Europe, our grandfathers, our fathers, and we, have all deemed too unequal to be preserved without our atten- tion and assistance. But our children, weary of the struggle, and fettered with incumbrances, may sit down secure, and see their neighbours oppressed and conquered; till, at last, they themselves and their creditors lie both at the mercy of the conqueror. And this may properly enough be denominated the violent death of our public credit. These seem to be the events, which are not very remote, and which reason foresees as clearly almost as she can do any thing that lies in the womb of time. And though the ancients main- tained, that in order to reach the gift of prophecy a certain divine fury or madness was requisite, one may safely affirm, that, in order to deliver such prophecies as these, no more is necessary, than merely to be in one's senses, free from the influ- ence of popular madness and delusion.* • The experience of the British government since'Mr. Hume's put- Hcation, proves the error of several of his remarks and predictions in this essay. This government has almost incessantly borrowed money, to the most enormous amounts ever loaned: nevertheless the faith of the lenders remains as unshaken as in former days. This fact has become so generally known, that in the coffee house of that country—the common resort for the condemnation of ministers—the national debt ceases to be the subject of complaint. The provision made in the "funding system" 380 ESSAY IX, of Mr. Pitt for redeeming the public debt, when from accidental causes it depreciates in market, affords a powerful remedy against oppressive accumulation. Among the means of extinguishing a national debt, the taxation of in- come presents a resort, honorable and effectual,—as government has an indisputable right to tax its subjects equally for their protection. No subject receives greater protection than those deriving income from the public stocks. A law taxing all revenues as income, is as justly applica- ble to those who derive interest from the government as to him who de- rives it from private investments. A heavy tax on income would in a. very little time extinguish the national debt of any country. The only evil that could result, would be a necessity in those living on interest to expend less or to be more industrious : not more difficult surely for gov- ernment creditors than for others. Such a tax affords a full refutation to Mr. Hume's apprehensions from the transfer of the public debt to fort. eigners, exclusive of the interest these foreign creditors must take in preserving the credit of the Indebted nation. The doctrine of Mr. Hume, "that the accumulation of stock will pro- " duce idleness and imbecility in the people," is certainly erroneous. In his essay on money, he admits that a people become more active and en« terprizing from abundance of money. In the present essay he states that the stock answers all the purposes of cash: Therefore it is evident, that national debt, standing as stock, must encrease the enterprize and indus- try of the people. And, agreeably to this, it must be obvious, that the. unparalleled activity of the merchants and manufacturers of Great Bri- tain arises in great measure from tlie unparalleled amount of stock in circulation. This enterprize among the British, while with such abundance of stock, is the best answer that can be made to Mr. Hfme*s prediction, that the stock will increase the number of drones in the community. There are not as many drones in Great Britain as in Spain or Italt, of inferior population, and it requires no great observation to discover that men brought up to profitable employment, do not remain satisfied with their fortunes, but persevere probably more zealously to double the large than the small estates. It is the habit, the fashion, for every man to have occupation, that preserves the vigour of a nation. So long as the peo- ple will be active in any country, no irregularity in the currency can produce evils which will not be removed by common means. When the OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 381 fashions change—when the rich and the poor esteem exertion disgrace- ful—it is then and then only that degeneracy and imbecility make the people an easy prey to invaders; and that revolutions become ne- cessary to reform the times. Surely every man of sense must believe, that if Great Britain, with her activity from prince to porter, were de- prived of every dollar, and with double her national debt, she would make a more effectual resistance against an invading foe, than has lately been made by the Spaniards against tlie French, while they had but little debt and much money in the country. To these remarks I will add that there seems to be among mankind a strong partiality for loaning money to governments. Nothing proves this more clearly, than the experience of the United States during the last war, under the most unfavourable circumstances for such loans. The rulers of the country, studying only to preserve the applause of the common peo- ple, had not sufficient political courage to impose the necessary taxes; so that they had to borrow money without the security of providing means to repay. The head of the treasury department, from the nature of the government, was subject to capricious removals and the office to be filled from geographical considerations, without the essential requisites of es- tablished talents and honour. In consequence a cunning officer ruling the treasury department at the commencement of the war—a noted po- litical juggler, and believed to have financial talents in consequence of his strict adherence to the course of the great Alexander Hamilton, who organized that department; managed to have himself sent on a for- eign mission. The office was then filled by a county court lawyer, of the western country, as great a stranger to talents as to the mercantile and monied men of the country. This philosophic financier signalized himself by adding to the national debt, by making it to the interest of those who had loaned money to the government, to depreciate the public credit: nevertheless money was obtained: the national debt was nearly trebled ; and the consequences have been, that the industry, the enterprize, and the adherence to union of the citizens have manifestly increased by it. I think therefore it is perfectly clear and certain, that a national debt, if con. tracted for useful objects, must in all countries be a public blessing ». that contrary to Mr. Huhe'b predictions there is no danger that public credits will " die of the doctor" nor " a natural death" nor " a violent death." Its only danger is, as it was in America, from the death of "knaves and fools" E. ESSAY X. OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. I SHALL observe three remarkable customs in three celebrat- ed governments; and shall conclude from the whole, that all general maxims in politics ought to be established with great caution ; and that irregular and extraordinary appearances are frequently discovered in the moral, as well as in the physical world. The former, perhaps, we can better account for, after they happen, from springs and principles, of which every one has within himself, or from observation, the strongest assurance and conviction : But it is often fully as impossible for human prudence, before-hand, to foresee and foretel them. I. One would think it essential to every supreme council or- assembly, which debates, that entire liberty of speech should be granted to every member, and that all motions or reasonings should be received, which can any wise tend to illustrate the point under deliberation. One would conclude, with still great- er assurance, that, after a motion was made, which was voted- and approved by that assembly in which the legislative power Ls lodged, the member who made the motion must for ever be exempted from future trial or enquiry. But no political maxim qan, at first sight, appear more undisputable, than that he must^ at least, be secured from all inferior jurisdiction; and that nothing less than the same supreme legislative assembly, in their subsequent meetings, could make him accountable for those motions and harangues, to which they had before given their approbation. But these axioms, however irrefragable they 384 ESSAY X. may appear, have all failed in the Athenian government, fran* causes and principles too, which appear almost inevitable. By the indictment of illegality, (though it has not been re- marked by antiquaries or commentators) any man was tried and punished in a common court of judicature, for any law which had passed upon his motion, in the assembly of the peo- ple, if that law appeared to the court unjust,- or prejudicial to the public. Thus Demosthenes, finding that ship-money was levied irregularly, and that the poor bore the same burden as the rich in equipping the gallies, corrected this inequality by a very useful law, which proportioned the expence to the revenue and income of each individual. He moved for this law in the assembly: he proved its advantages*; he convinced the people, the only legislature in Athens j the law passed, and was carri- ed into execution: Yet was he tried in a criminal court for that law, upon the complaint of the rich, who resented the alteration that he had introduced into the financesf. He was indeed ac- quitted, upon proving anew the usefulness of his law. Ctesiphon moved in the assembly of the people, that particu- lar honours should be conferred on Demosthenes, as on a citi- zen affectionate and useful to the commonwealth: The people, convinced of this truth, voted those honours: Yet was Ctesi- phon tried by the " indictment of illegality." It was asserted, among other topics, that Demosthenes was not a good citizen^ nor affectionate to the commonwealth : And the orator was call- ed upon to defend his friend, and consequently himself; which he executed by that sublime piece of eloquence, that has ever since been the admiration of mankind. After the battle of Ch^ronea, a law was passed upon the motion of Hyperides, giving liberty to slaves, and inrolling *His harangue for it is still extant f Pro Ctesiphonte OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS, 385 them in the troops*. On account of this law, the orator was af- terwards tried by the indictment above-mentioned, and defended himself, among other topics, by that stroke celebrated by Plu- tarch and Longinus. It was not I, said he, that moved for this law: It was the necessities of war; it was the battle of of Ch-eronea. The orations of Demosthenes abound with many instances of trials of this nature, and prove clearly, that. nothing was more commonly practised. The Athenian Democracy was such a tumultuous govern-; ment, as we can scarcely form a notion of in the present age of the world. The whole collective body of the people voted in every law, without any limitation of property, without any dis- tinction of rank, without controul from any magistracy or se-. natef; and consequently without regard to order, justice, or prudence. The Athenians soon became sensible of the mis- chiefs attending this constitution : But being averse to check* ing themselves by any rule or restriction, they resolved, at least, to pheck their demagogues or counsellors, by the fear of future punishment and enquiry. They accordingly instituted this re- markable law; a law esteemed so essential to their form of, government, that ^Eschines insists on it as a known truth, that, were it abolished or neglected, it were impossible for the Demo- cracy to subsist}. • Plutahchus in vita decum oratorum. Demosthenes gives a different account of this law. Contra Aristogiton. Orat. II. He says, that its purport was, to restore the privileges of bearing offices to those who had been declared incapable. Perhaps these were both clauses of the s*nie law. | The senate of the Bean was only a less numerous mob, chf*en Dy l°t> from among the people; and their authority was not great. i In Ctesiphontem. It is remarkable, that the first st4> »/ler me disso" lution of the Democracy by Crttias and the Thirty, vas to annul the "in- dictment of illegality," as we learn from Demost*1*1"8' Tne orator in this oration gives us the words of the law, pag. &7. ex edit- Ami. And he, ^counts for it, from the same principles wene?e reason upon, B3 386 ESSAY X. The people feared not any ill consequence to liberty from the authority of the criminal courts; because these were nothing but very numerous juries, chesen by lot from among the people. And they justly considered themselves as in a state of perpe- tual pupilage; where they had an authority, after they came to the use of reason, not only to retract and controul whatever had been determined, but to punish any guardian for measures which they had embraced by his persuasion. The same law had place in Thebes* ; and for the same reason. It appears to have been a usual practice in Athens, on the establishment of any law esteemed very useful or popular, to prohibit for ever its abrogation and repeal. Thus the dema- gogue, who diverted all the public revenues to the support of shows and spectacles, made it criminal so much as to move for a repeal of this lawf. Thus Leptines moved for a law, not on- ly to recal all the immunities formerly granted, but to deprive the people for the future of the power of granting any moref. Thus all bills of attainder|| were forbid, or laws that affected one Athenian, without extending to the whole commonwealth. These absurd clauses, by which the legislature vainly attempt- ed to bind itself for ever, proceeded from an universal sense in the people of their own levity aud inconstancy. II. A wheel within a wheel, such as we observe in the Ger- man empire, is considered by Lord Shaftesbury§ as an absur- dity in politics: But what must we say to two equal wheels, which govern the same political machine, without any mutual eheUc, controul, or subordination; and yet preserve the greatest harmoi^ and concord ? To establish two distinct legislatures, each of vf>\ch possesses full and absolute authority within itself, * Plxjt. in nftu Pelop. ■f Demost. Olynth. 1# 2. i Demost. contra \.Et~. fl Demost. contra AniSTOc,1TEM. § Essay on the freedom of wk and humour, part 3. § 2 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 387 and stands in no need of the other's assistance, in order to give validity to its acts; this may appear, before-hand, altogether impracticable, as long as men are actuated by the passions of ambition, emulation, and avarice, which have hitherto been their chief governing principles. And should I assert, that the state I have in my eye was divided into two distinct factions, each of which predominated in a distinct legislature, and yet produc- ed no clashing in these independent powers; the supposition may appear incredible. And if, to augment the paradox, I should affirm, that this disjointed, irregular government, was the most active, triumphant, and illustrious commonwealth, that ever yet appeared; I should certainly be told, that such a poli- tical chimera was as absurd as any vision of priests or poets. But there is no need for searching long, in order to prove the reality of the foregoing suppositions: For this was actually the case with the Roman republic. The legislative power was there lodged in the comitia centu- riata and comitia tributa. In the former, it is well known, the people voted according to census; so that when the first class was unanimous, though it contained not, perhaps, the hundredth part of the commonwealth, it determined the whole ; and, with the authority of the senate, established a law. In the latter, every vote was equal: and as the authority of the senate was not there requisite, the lower people entirely prevailed, and gave law to the whole state. In all party-divisions, at first between the Patricians and Plebeians, afterwards between the nobles and the people, the interest of the Aristocracy was predominant in the first legislature ; that of the Democracy in the second : The one could always destroy what the other had established : Nay, the one, by a sudden and unforeseen motion, might take the start of the other, and totally annihilate its rival, by a vote, which, from the nature of the constitution, had the full authori- ty of a law. But no such contest is observed in the history of Rome : No instance of a quarrel between these two legislatures; though many between the parties that governed in each. Whence arose this concord, which may seem so extraordinary ? 388 ESSAY X. The legislature established in Rome, by the authority of Ser- vius Tullius, was the comitia centuriata, which, after the ex- pulsion of the kings, rendered the government, for some time, very aristocratical. But the people, having numbers and force on their side and being elated with frequent conquests and victories in their foreign wars, always prevailed when pushed to extremi- ty, and first extorted from the senate the magistracy of the tri- bunes, and next the legislative power of the comitia tributa. It then behoved the nobles to be more careful than ever not to pro- voke the people. For beside the force which the latter were al- ways possessed of, they had now got possession of legal authority, and could instantly break in pieces any order or institution which directly opposed them. By intrigue, by influence, by money, by combination, and by the respect paid to their charac- ter, the nobles might often prevail, and direct the whole ma- chine of government : But had they openly set their comitia centuriata in opposition to the tributa, they had soon lost the advantages of that institution, together with their consuls, prae- tors, ediles, and all the magistrates elected by it. But the comitia tributa, not having the same reason for respecting the centuriata, frequently repealed laws favourable to the Aristo- cracy : They limited the authority of the nobles, protected the people from oppression, and controuled the actions of the senate and magistracy. The centuriata found it convenient always to submit; and though equal in authority, yet being inferior in power, durst never directly give any shock to the other legis- lature, either by repealing its laws, or establishing laws, which, it foresaw, would soon be repealed by it. No instance is found of any opposition or struggle between these comitia ; except one slight attempt of this kind, mentioned by Appian in the third book of his civil wars. Mark Antho- ny, resolving to deprive Decimus Brutus of the government of Cisalpine Gaul, railed in the Forum, and called one of the comitia, in order to prevent the meeting of the other, which, had been ordered by the senate. But affairs were then fallen OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 389 into such confusion, and the Roman constitution was so near its final dissolution, that no inference can be drawn from such an expedient. This contest, besides, was founded more on form than party. It was the senate who ordered the comitia tributa, that they might obstruct the meeting of the centuriata, which, by the constitution, or at least forms of the government, could alone dispose of provinces. Cicero was recalled by the comitia centuriata, though ba- nished by the tributa, that is by a plebiscitum. But his banish- ment, we may observe, never was considered as a legal deed, arising from the free choice and inclination of the people. It was always ascribed to the violence alone of Clodius, and to the disorders introduced by him into the government. III. The third custom, which we purpose to remark, regards Englaad ; and though it be not so important as those which we have pointed out in Athens and Rome, is no less singular and unexpected. It is a maxim in politics, which we readily admit as undisputed and universal, that a power, however great, when granted by law to an eminent magistrate, is not so dan- gerous to liberty, as an authority, however inconsiderable, which he acquires from violence and usurpation. For, besides that the law always limits every power which it bestows, the very receiving as a concession establishes the authority whence it is derived, and preserves the harmony of the constitution. By the same right that one prerogative is assumed without law, another may also be claimed, and another, with still greater facility ; while the first usurpations both serve as precedents to the following, and give force to maintain them. Hence the heroism of Hampden's conduct, who sustained tlie whole vio- lence of royal prosecution, rather than pay a tax of twenty shillings, not imposed by parliament; hence the care of all English patriots to guard against the first encroachments of the crown ; and hence alone the existence, at this day, of Eir- G/Lish liberty, 390 ESSAY X. There is, however, one occasion, where the parliament has departed from this maxim; and that is, in the pressing of sea- men. The exercise of an irregular power is here tacitly permit- ted in the crown; and though it ha* frequently been under deli- beration, how that power might be rendered legal, and granted, under proper restrictions, to the sovereign, no safe expedient could ever be proposed for that purpose; and the danger to liberty always appeared greater from law than from usurpation. While this power is exercised to no other end than to man the navy, men willingly submit to it, from a sense of its use and necessity ; and the sailors, who are alone affected by it, find no body to support them, in claiming the rights and privi- leges,, which the law grants, without distinction, to all En- glish subjects. But were this power, on any occasion, made an instrument of faction or ministerial tyranny, the oppo- site faction, and indeed all lovers of their country, would immediately take the alarm, and support the injured party ; the liberty of Englishmen would be asserted j juries would be implacable ; and the tools of tyranny, acting both against law and equity, would meet with the severest vengeance. On the other hand, were the parliament to grant such an authority, they would probably fall into one of these two inconveniencies : They would either bestow it under so many restrictions as would make it lose its effect, by cramping the authority of the crown; or they would render it so large and comprehensive, as might give occasion to great abuses, for which we could, in that case, have no remedy. The very irregularity of the prac- tice, at present, prevents its abuses, by affording so easy a re- medy against them. I pretend not, by this reasoning, to exclude all possibility of contriving a register for seamen, which might man the navy, without being dangerous to liberty. I only observe, that no sa- tisfactory scheme of that nature has yet been proposed. Rather than adopt any project hitherto invented, we continue a prac-^ fcce seemingly the most absurd and unaccountable. Authority, OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 391 in times of full internal peace and concord, is armed against law. A continued violence is permitted in the crown, amidst the greatest jealousy and watchfulness in the people; nay, proceed- ing from those very principles : Liberty, in a country of the highest liberty, is left entirely to its own defence, without any countenance or protection : The wild state of nature is renewed, in one of the most civilized societies of mankind : And great violence and disorder are committed with impunity; while the one party pleads obedience to the supreme magistrate, the other the sanction of fundamental ,ow°. ESSAY XI. OF THE POPULOUSNES9 OF ANCIENT NATIONS. THERE is very little ground, either from reason or observa- tion, to conclude the world eternal or incorruptible. The con- tinual and rapid motion of matter, the violent revolutions with which every part is agitated, the changes remarked in the hea- vens, the plain traces as well as tradition of an universal deluge, or general convulsion of the elements ; all these prove strongly the mortality of this fabric of the world, and its pas- sage, by corruption or dissolution, from one state or order to another. It must therefore, as well as each individual form which it contains, have its infancy, youth, manhood, and old age; and it is probable, that, in all these variations, man, equally with every animal and vegetable, will partake. In the flourish- ing age of the world, it may be expected, that the human spe- cies should possess greater vigour both of mind and body, more prosperous, health, higher spirits, longer life, and a stronger in- clination and power of generation. But if the general system of things, and human society of course, have any such gradual revolutions, they are too slow to be discernible in that short period which is comprehended by history and tradition. Sta- ture and force of body, length of life, even courage and ex- tent of genius, seem hitherto to have been naturally, in all ages, pretty much the same. The arts and sciences, indeed, have flourished in one period, and have decayed in another: But we may observe, that, at the time when they rose to great- est perfection among one people, they were perhaps totally un- known to all the neighbouring nations 5 and though they uni- versally decayed in one age, yet in a succeeding generation C3 d§4 ESSAY XI. they again revived, and diffused themselves over the world. As far, therefore, as observation reaches, there is no universal dif- ference discernible in the human species; and though it were allowed, that the universe, like an animal body, had a natural progress from infancy to old age; yet as it must still be uncer- tain, whether, at present, it be advancing to its point of perfec- tion, or declining from it, we cannot thence presuppose any decay in human nature*. To prove, therefore, or account for that superior populousness of antiquity, which is commonly sup- posed, by the imaginary youth or vigour of the world, will scarcely be admitted by any just reasoner. These general phy- sical causes ought entirely to be excluded from this question. There are indeed some more particular physical causes of importance. Diseases are mentioned in antiquity, which are almost unknown to modern medicine; and new diseases have arisen and propagated themselves, of which there are no traces in ancient history. In this particular we may observe, upon comparison, that the disadvantage is much on the side of the moderns. Not to mention some others of less moment; the small-pox commit such ravages, as would almost alone account for the great superiority ascribed to ancient times. The tenth or the twelfth part of mankind, destroyed every generation, should make a vast difference, it may be thought, in the numbers of the people; and when joined to venereal distempers, a new plague diffused every where, this disease is perhaps equivalent, by its constant operation, to the three great scourges of man- kind, war, pestilence, and famine. Were it certain, therefore, that ancient times were more populous than the present, and could no moral causes be assigned for so great a change; these physical causes alone, in the opinion of many, would be suffici- ent to give us satisfaction on that head. But is it certain, that antiquity was se much more populous, as is pretended ? The extravagancies of Vossius, with regard •See note [T]. P0PUL0USNE9S OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 395 to this subject, are well known. But an author of much greater genius and discernment has ventured to affirm, that, according to the best computations which these subjects will admit of, there are not now, on the face of the earth, the fiftieth part of mankind, which existed in the time of Julius Cesar*. It may easily be observed, that the comparison, in this case, must be imperfect, even though we confine ourselves to the scene of an- cient history; Europe, and the nations round the Mediterra- nean. We know not exactly the numbers of any European kingdom, or even city, at present: How can we pretend to cal- culate those of ancient cities and states, where historians have left us such imperfect traces ? For my part, the matter appears to me so uncertain, that, as I intend to throw together some reflections on that head, I shall intermingle the enquiry con- cerning causes with that concerning facts; which ought never to be admitted, where the facts can be ascertained with any tole- rable assurance. We shall, first, consider whether it be proba- ble, from what we know of the situation of society in both per> ods, that antiquity must have been more populous; secondly, whether in reality it was so. If I can make it appear, that the conclusion is not so certain as is pretended, in favour of anti- quity, it is all I aspire to. In general, we may observe, that the question, with regard to the comparative populousness of ages or kingdoms, implies im- portant consequences, and commonly determines concerning the preference of their whole police, their manners, and the con- stitution of their government. For as there is in all men, both male and female, a desire and power of generation, more active than is ever universally exerted, the restraints, which they lie un- der, must proceed from some difficulties in their situation, which it belongs to a wise legislature carefully to observe and remove, lAmost every man who thinks he can maintain a family will have once; and the human species, at this rate of propagation, would more than double every generation. How fast do man- • Lettres Psbbiane*. See also UEsprit de Loix, iv, xxiii. cap. 17, 18,19- 396 ESSAY XL kind multiply in every colony or new settlement; where it is an easy matter to provide for a family; and where men are no- wise straitened or confined, as in long established governments ? History tells us frequently of plagues, which have swept away the third or fourth part of a people: Yet in a generation or two, the destruction was not perceived; and the society had again acquired their former number. The lands which were cultivat- ed, the houses built, the commodities raised, the riches acquired, enabled the people, who escaped, immediately to marry, and to rear families, which supplied the place of those who had perish- ed*. And for a like reason, every wise, just, and mild govern- ment, by rendering the condition of its subjects easy and secure, will always abound most in people, as well as in commodities and riches. A country, indeed, whose climate and soil are fitted for vines, will naturally be more populous than one which produ- ces corn only, and that more populous than one which is only fitted for pasturage. In general, warm climates, as the necessi- ties of the inhabitants are there fewer, and vegetation more pow- erful, are likely to be most populous: But if every thing else be equal, it seems natural to expect, that wherever there are most happiness and virtue, and the wisest institutions, there will also be most people. The question, therefore, concerning the populousness of an- cient and modern times, being allowed of great importance, it will be requisite, if we would bring it to some determination, to compare both the domestic and political situation of these two periods, in order to judge of the facts by their moral causes; which is the first view in which we proposed to consider them. * This too is a good reason why the small-pox does not depopulate countries so much as may at first sight be imagined. Where there is room for more people, they will always arise, even without the assistance of na- turalization bills. It is remarked by Dow Gebonimo de Ustabiz, that the provinces of Spain, which send most people to the Indies, are most popu- lous ; which proceeds from their superior riches. P0PUL0USNE88 OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 397 The chief difference between the domestic oeconomy of the ancients and that of the moderns consists in the practice of sla- very, which prevailed among the former, and which has been abolished for some centuries throughout the greater part of Europe. Some passionate admirers of the ancients, and zeal- ous partizans of civil liberty, (for these sentiments, as they are, both of them, in the main, extremely just, are found to be almost inseparable) cannot forbear regretting the loss of this institu- tion; and whilst they brand all submission to the government of a single person with the harsh denomination of slavery, they would gladly reduce the greater part of mankind to real slavery and subjection. But to one who considers coolly on the subject it will appear, that human nature, in general, really enjoys more liberty at present, i^the most arbitrary government of Europe, than it ever did during the most flourishing period of ancient times. As much as submission to a petty prince, whose domi- nions extend not beyond a single city, is more grievous than obe- dience to a great monarch; so much is domestic slavery more cruel and oppressive than any civil subjection whatsoever. The more the master is removed from us in place and rank, the great- er liberty we enjoy ; the less are our actions inspected and con- troled; and the fainter that cruel comparison becomes between our own subjection, and the freedom, and even dominion,of another. The remains which are found of domestic slavery, in the American colonies, and among some European nations, would never surely create a desire of rendering it more univer- sal. The little humanity, commonly observed in persons, ac- customed, from their infancy, to exercise so great authority over their fellow-creatures, and to trample upon human nature, were sufficient alone to disgust us with that unbounded dominion. Nor can a more probable reason be assigned for the severe, I might say, barbarous manners of ancient times, than the practice of domestic slavery; by which every man of rank was rendered a petty tyrant, and educated amidst the flattery, submission, and low debasement of his slaves. 393 ESSAY XI. According to ancient practice, all checks were on tlie infe- rior, to restrain him to the duty of submission j none on the su- perior, to engage him to the reciprocal duties of gentleness and humanity. In modern times, a bad servant finds not easily a good master, nor a bad master a good servant; and the checks are mutual, suitably to the inviolable and eternal laws of reason and equity. The custom of exposing old, useless, or sick slaves in an is- land of the Tvber, there to starve, seems to have been pretty common in Rome ; and whoever recovered, after having been so exposed, had his liberty given him, by an edict of the empe- ror Claudius; in which it was likewise forbidden to kill any slave merely for old age or sickness*. But supposing that this edict was strictly obeyed, would it better the domestic treatment of slaves, or render their lives much more comfortable ? We may imagine what others would practise, when it was the pro- fessed maxim of the elder Cato, to sell his superannuated slaves for any price, rather than maintain what he esteemed a useless burdent. The ergastula, or dungeons, where slaves in chains were forc- ed to work, were very common all over Italy. Columella!. advises, that they be always built under ground j and recom- mends|| it as the duty of a careful overseer, to call over every day the names of these slaves, like the mustering of a regiment or ship's company, in order to know presently when any of them had deserted. A proof of the frequency of the ergastida, and of the great number of slaves usually confined in them. • Soitonius in vita Claudii. f Plct. in vita Catonib. i Lib. i. cap. 6. 1 Id. lib. xi. cap. 1. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 399 A chained slave for a porter, was usual in Rome, as appears from Ovid*,and other authors!. Had not these people shaken off all sense of compassion towards that unhappy part of their species, would they have presented their friends, at the first en- trance, with such an image of the severity of the master, and misery of the slave ? Nothing so common in all trials, even of civil causes, as to call for the evidence of slaves; which was always extorted by the most exquisite torments. Demosthenes says f, that where it was possible to produce, for the same fact, either freemen or slaves, as witnesses, the judges always preferred thelorturing of slaves, as a more certain evidence|f. Seneca draws a picture of that disorderly luxury, which changes day into night, and night into day, and inverts every stated hour of every office in life. Among other circumstances. such as displacing the meals and times of bathing, he mentions, that regularly about the third hour of the night, the neighbours of one, who indulges this false refinement, hear the noise of whips and lashes ; and, upen enquiry, find that he is then tak- ing an account of the conduct of his servants, and giving them due correction and discipline. This is not remarked as an in- stance of cruelty, but only of disorder, which, even in actions the most usual and methodical, changes the fixed hours that an established custom had assigned for them§. • Amor, lib- i. eleg. 6. t Suetow. de Claris rhetor. So also the ancient poet. Janitoris tmtin- nire impedimenta audio. \ In Oniterem orat. 1. | The same practice was very common in Rome ; but Cicebo seems not to think this evidence so certain as the testimony of free-citizens. Pro Ccelio. § See note [ITj. 400 ESSAY XI. But ow present business is only to consider the influence of slavery on the populousness of a state. It is pretended, that, in this particular, the ancient practice had infinitely the advan- tage, and was the chief cause of that extreme populousness, which is supposed in those times. At present, all masters dis- courage the marrying of their male servants, and admit not by any means the marriage of the female, who are then supposed al- together incapacitated for their service. But where the propertv of the servants is lodged in the master, their marriage forms his riches, and brings him a succession of slaves that supply the place of those whom age and infirmity have disabled. He en- courages, therefore, their propagation as much as that of his cattle; rears the young with the same care ; and educates them to some art or calling, which may render them more useful or valuable to him. The opulent are, by this policy, interested in the being at least, though not in the well-being of the poor ; and enrich themselves, by encreasing the number and industry of those who are subjected to them. Each man, being a sove- reign in his own family, has the same interest with regard to it, as the prince with regard to the state; and has not, like the prince, any opposite motives of ambition or vain-glory, which may lead him to depopulate his little sovereignty. All of it is, at all times, under his eye ; and he has leisure to inspect the most minute detail of the marriage and education of his sub- jects.* Such are the consequences of domestic slavery, according to the first aspect and appearance of things: But if we enter more deeply into the subject, we shall perhaps find reason to retract our hasty determinations. The comparison is shocking between the management of human creatures and that of cattle; but • We may here observe; that if domestic slavery really encreased popu- lousness, it would be an exception to the general rule, that the happiness of any society and its populousness are necessary attendants. ,A master from humour or interest, may make his slaves very unhappy, yet be care- ful, from interest, to encrease their number. Their marriage i9 not a mat- ter of choice with them, more than any other Action of their life. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 401 being extremely just, when applied to the present subject, it may be proper to trace the consequences of it. At the capital, near all great cities, in all populous, rich, industrious provin- ces, few cattle are bred. Provisions, lodging, attendance, labour are there dear; and men find their account better in buying the cattle, after they come to a certain age, from the remoter and cheaper countries. These are consequent- ly the only breeding countries for cattle ; and by a parity of reason, for men too, when the latter are put on the same footing with the former. To rear a child in London, till he could be serviceable, would cost much dearer than to buy one of the same age from Scotland or Ireland ; where he had been bred in a cottage, covered with rags, and fed on oat- meal or potatoes. Those who had slaves, therefore, in all the richer and more populous countries, would discourage the preg- nancy of the females, and either prevent or destroy the birth. The human species would perish in those places where it ought to encrease the fastest; and a perpetual recruit be wanted from the poorer and more desert provinces. Such a continued drain would tend mightily to depopulate the state, and render great cities ten times more destructive than with us; where every man is master of himself, and provides for his children from the powerful instinct of nature, not the calculations of sordid inte- rest. If London, at present, without much encreasing, need* a yearly recruit from the country, of 5000 people, as is usually computed what must it require, if the greatest part of the trades- men and common people were slaves, and were hindered from breeding by their avaricious masters ? All ancient authors tell us, that there was a perpetual flux of slaves to Italy from the remoter provinces, particularly Syria, Cilioia,* Cappadocia, and the Lesser Asia, Thraoe, und ./Egypt : Yet the number of people did not encrease in Italy ; and writers complain of the continual decay of indus- ■* Ten thousand slaves in a day have been often sold for the tfse of the "iOmavs, at Delus in Ciueu. Stbabo, lib. xiv. D3 402 ESSAY XI. try and agriculture.* Where then is that extreme fertility of the Roman slaves j which is commonly supposed ? So far from multiplying, they could not, it seems, so much as keep up the stock, without immense recruits. And though great numbers were continually manumitted and converted into Roman citi- zens, the numbers even of these did not encrease,t till the free- dom of the city was communicated to foreign provinces. The term for a slave, born and bred in the family, was verna\; and these slaves seem to have been entitled by custom to privileges and indulgencies beyond others; a sufficient reason why the masters would not be fond of rearing many of that kind||. Whoever is acquainted with the maxims of our planters, will acknowledge the justness of this observation^ * Columella, lib. i. projem et. cap. 2. et 7. Vaiibo, lib. iii. cap. 1. Hobat. lib. ii. od. 15. Tacit, annul, lib. iii. cap. 54. Sueton. in vita Aug. cap. xiii. Plin. lib. xviii. cap.' 13. ■J- Minore indies plebe ingenua, says Tacitus, ann. lib. xxiv. cap. 7. 4-See note [X.] U Verna is used by Roman writers as a word equivalent to scurra, on account of the petulance and impudence of those slaves. Mabt. lib. i. ep. 42. Hobace also mentions the verna procaces,- and Petbosius, cap. 24. vernula urbanitas. Seneca, de provid. cap. 1. vernularum licentia. §Jt is computed in the West Indies, that a stock of slaves grow worse five per cent, every year, unless new slaves be bought to recruit them. They are not able to keep up their number, even in those warm countries, where cloaths and provisions are so easily got. How much more must this happen in Eubopban countries, and in or near great cities ? I shall add, that, from the experience of our planters, slavery is as little advantageous to the master as to tlie slave, wherever h'aed servants can be procured. A man is obliged to clothe and feed his slave; and he does no more for 14s servant: The price of tlie first purchase is, therefore, so much loss to him : not to mention, that the fear of punishment will never draw so much la- bour from a slave, as the dread of being turned off and not getting another service, will from a freeman. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 403 Atticus is much praised by his historian for the care, which he took in recruiting his family from the slaves born in it*: May we not thence infer, that this practice was net then very com- mon ? The names of slaves in the Greek comedies, Syrus, Mysus, Geta, Thrax, Davus, Lydus, Phryx, %c. afford a presump- tion, that, at Athens at least, most of the slaves were imported from foreign countries. The Athenians, says StraboI, gave to their slaves, either the names of the nations whence they were bought, as Lydus, Syrus ; or the names that were most common among those nations, as Manes or Midas to a Phry- gian, Tibias to a Paphlagonian. Demosthenes, having mentioned a law which forbade any man to strike the slave of another, praises the humanity of this law 5 and adds, that, if the barbarians from whom the slaves were bought, had information, that their countrymen met with sugh gentle treatment, they would entertain a great esteem for the Athenians^. Isocrate6§ too insinuates, thatthe slaves of the Greeks we're generally or very commonly barbarians. Aris- totle in his Politicsll plainly supposes, that a slave is always a foreigner. The ancient comic writers represented the slaves as speaking a barbarous language*. This was an imitation of nature. It is well known that Demosthenes, in his nonage, had been defrauded of a large fortune by hi6 tutors, and that afterwards • Corn. Nepas in vita Attici. We may remark, that Atticcs> estate lay chiefly in Embus, which, being a remote, desolate place, would ren. der it profitable for him to rear slaves there. fLib. vii. }In Midiam, p. 221. ex edit. Alii. §Panegyr. flLib. vii. cap. 10. sub fin. •Abistoph. Equites, 1. 17. 404 ESSAY XI. he recovered, by a prosecution at law, the value of his patrimo- ny. His orations, on that occasion, still remain, and contain an exact detail of the whole substance left by his father,* in money, merchandise, houses, and slaves, together with the va- lue of each particular. Among the rest were 52 slaves, han- dicraftsmen, namely, 32 sword-cutlers, and 20 cabinet-ma- kers ;t all males; not a word of any wives, children or family, which they certainly would have had, had it been a common practice at Athens to breed from the slaves : And the value of the whole must have much depended on that circumstance. No female slaves are even so much as mentioned, except some house-maids, who belonged to his mother. This argument has great force, if it be not altogether conclusive. Consider this passage of Plutarch,\ speaking of the Elder Cato. " He had a great number of slaves, whom he took care " to buy at the sales of prisoners of war; and he chose them " young, that they might easily be accustomed to any diet or " manner of life, and be instructed in any business or labour, " as men teach any thing to young dogs or horses.----And es- " teeming love the chief source of all disorders, he allowed the ** male slaves to have a commerce with the female in his family, ** upon paying a certain sum for this privilege : But he strictly " prohibited all intrigues out of his family." Are there any symptoms in this narration of that care which is supposed in the -ancients, of the marriage and propagation of their slaves ? If that was a common practice, founded on general interest, it would surely have been embraced by Cato, who was a great (economist, and lived in times when the ancient frugality and simplicity of manners were still in credit and reputation. ♦In Amphobum orat. 1. f Makers of those beds which the ancients lay upon at meals. } In vita Catonie. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 405 It is expressly remarked by the writers of the Roman law, that scarcely any ever purchase slaves with a view of breeding from them.* Our lackeys and house-maids, I own, do not serve much to multiply their species : But the ancients, besides those who attended on their person, had almost all their labour performed, and even manufactures executed, by slaves, who lived, many of them, in their family; and some great men possessed to the number of 10,000. If there be any suspicion, therefore, that this institution was unfavourable to propagation, (and the same reason, at least in part, holds with regard to ancient slaves as modern servants) how destructive must slavery have broved? History mentions a Roman nobleman, who had 400 sjaves un- der the same roof with him : And having been assassinated at home by the furious revenge of one of them, the law was execut- ed with rigour, and all without exception were put to death.t Many other Roman noblemen had families equally, or more numerous ; and I believe every one will allow, that this would scarcely be practicable, were we to suppose all the slaves mar- ried, and the females to be breeders.^ So early as the poet Hesiod||, married slaves, whether male or female, were esteemed inconvenient. How much more, • See note [Y.] f Tacit, ann. lib. xiv. cap. 43. $ The slaves in the great houses had little rooms assigned them, called celiac. Whence the name of cell was transferred to the monks room in a convent. See farther on this head, Just. Lipsius, Saturn, i. cap. 14. These form strong presumptions against the marriage and propagation of the family slaves. ItJpera et Dies, lib. ii. 1. 24. also 1. 220. 406 ESSAY XI. where families had encreased to such an enormous size as in Rome, and where the ancient simplicity of manners was banish- ed from all ranks of people ? Xenophon in his Oeconomics, where he gives directions for the management of a farm, recommends a strict care and atten- tion of laying the male and the female slaves at a distance from each other. He seems not to suppose that they are ever marri- ed. The only slaves among the Greeks that appear to have continued then own race, were the Helotes, who had houses apart, and were more the slaves of the public than of indivi- duals*. The same authort tells us, that Nicias's overseer, by agree- ment with hid master, was obliged to pay him an obolus a day for each slave; besides maintaining them, and keeping up the number. Had the ancient slaves been all breeders, this last cir- cumstance of the contract had been superfluous. The ancients talk so frequently of a fixed, stated portion of provisions assigned to each slaved, that we are naturally led to conclude, that slaves lived almost all single, and received that porioii d* a kind of board-wages. The practice, indeed, of marrying slaves seems not to have been very common, even among the country-labourers, where it is more naturally to be expected. Cato||, enumerating the slaves requisite to labour a vineyard of a hundred acres, makes them amount to 15; the overseer and his wife, villicus and vil- lica, and 13 male slaves; for an olive plantation of 240 acres, the overseer and his wife, and 11 male slaves; and so in propor- tion to a greater or less plantation or vineyard. * Stbabo, lib. vifi. |De ratione redituum. % See Cato de re rustica, cap. 56. Donatus in Phormion, 1.1. 9. Senb- BAE epist. 80. | De re rust. cap. 10, 11. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 407 Varro*, quoting this passage of Cato, allows his computa- tion to be just in every respect, except the last. For as ' r is requisite, says he, to have an overseer and his wife, whether the vineyard or plantation be great or small, this must alter the ex- actness of the proportion. Had Cato's computation been erro- neous in any other respect, it had certainly been corrected by Varro, who seems fond of discovering so trivial an error. The same authorf, as well as Columella^, recommends it as requisite to give a wife to the overseer, in order to attach him the more strongly to his master's service. This was "therefore a peculiar indulgence granted to a slave, in whom so great con- fidence was reposed. In the same place, Varro mentions it as an useful precaution, not to buy too many slaves from the same nation, lest they be- get factions and seditions in the family: A presumption, that in Italy, the greater part, even of the country labouring slaves, (for he speaks of no other) were bought from the remoter pro- vinces. All the world knows, that the family slaves in Rome, who were instruments of show and luxury, were commonly im- ported from the east. Hoc profecere, says Pliny, speaking of the jealous care of masters, mancipiorum legiones, et in domo turba externa, ac servorum quoque causa nomenclator adhi- bendus§. It is indeed recommended b}r Varro|[, to propagate young shepherds in the family from the old ones. For as grazing farms were commonly in remote and cheap places, and each shepherd lived in a cottage apart, his marriage and encrease were not lia- ble to the same inconveniencies as in dearer places, and where many servants lived in the family ; which was v.niversally the case in such of the Roman farms as produced wine or corn. If * Lib. i. cap. 18. f Lib. i. cap. 17. $ Lib. i. cap. 18. §Lib. xxxiii. cap. 1. So likewise Tacitus, annal. lib. xiv. cap. 44. | Lib. ii. cap. 10. 408 ESSAY XI. we consider this exception with regard to shepherds, and wei"h the reasons of it, it will serve for a strong confirmation of all our foregoing suspicions*. CoLUMELLAf, I own, advises the master to give a reward. and even liberty to a female slave, that had reared him above three children: a proof, that sometimes the ancients propagated from their slaves; which, indeed, cannot be denied. Were it otherwise, the practice of slavery being so common in antiqui- ty, must have been destructive to a degree which no expedient could repair. All I pretend to infer from these reasonings is, that slavery is in general disadvantageous both to the happiness and populousness of mankind, and that its place is much better supplied by the practice of hired servants. The laws, or, as some writers call them, the seditions of the Gracchi, were occasioned by their observing the encrease of slaves all over Italy, and the diminution of free citizens. Ae- pianJ ascribes this encrease to the propagation of the slaves : Plutatch§ to the purchasing of barbarians, who were chained and imprisoned||. It is to be presumed that both causes con curred. * Pastoris duri est hie Alius, ille bubulci. Juven. sat. 11. 151. fLib. i. cap. 8. $ De bel. civ. lib. i. § In vita Tib. & C. Gracchi. || To the same purpose is that passage of the elder Seneca, ex contro- rersia, 5. lib. v. " Arata quondam populis rura, singulorum ergastulorum " sunt; latiusque nunc villici, quam olim regis, imperant. At nunc eadem," says Flint, " vincti pedes, damnatae manus, inscripti vultus exercent." Lib. xviii. cap. 3. So also Mabtial. " Et sonet innumera compede Thuscus ager." Lib. ix. ep. 23. And Lucan. " Turn longos jungere fines Agrorum, et quondam duro sulcata Camilli, Vomere et antiquas Curiorum passa ligones," Longa sub ignotis extendere rura colonis. Lib. i. " Vincto fossore coluntur Hesperiae segetes.——«" Lib. vii. populousness of ancient nations. 409 Sicily, says Florus*, was full of ergastula, and was cultivat- ed by labourers in chains. Eunws and Athenio excited the servile war, by breaking up these monstrous prisons, and giving liberty to 60,000 slaves. The younger Pompey augmented his army in Spain by the same expedient!. If the country labour- ers, throughout the Roman empire, were so generally in this situation, and if it was difficult or impossible to find separate lodgings for the families of the city servants, how unfavourable to propagation, as well as to humanity, must the institution of domestic slavery be esteemed ? Constantinople, at present, requires the same recruits of 9laves from all the provinces, that Rome did of old; and these provinces are of consequence far from being populous. Egypt, according to Mons. Maillet, sends continual colonies of blacky slaves to the other parts of the Turkish empire ; and receives annually an equal return of white: The one brought from the inland parts of Africa; the other from Mingrelia, Circassia, and Tartary. Our modern convents are, no doubt, bad institutions: But there is reason to suspect, that anciently every great family in Italy, and probably in other parts of the world, was a species of convent. And though we have reason to condemn all those popish institutions, as nurseries of superstition, burthensome to the public, and oppressive to the poor prisoners, male as well as female; yet may it be questioned whether they be so destruc- tive to the populousness of a state, as is commonly imagined. Were the land, which belongs to a convent, bestowed on a noble- man, he would spend its revenue on dogs, horses, grooms foot- men, cooks, and house-maids; and his family would not furnish many more citizens than the convent. * Lib. iii. cap. 19. f Id. lib. iv. cap. 8. E3 410 ESSAY XI. The common reason, why any parent thrusts his daughters in- to nunneries, is, that he may not be over-burthened with too numerous a family; but the ancients had a method almost as in- nocent, and more effectual to that purpose, to wit, exposing their children in early infancy. This practice was very common; and is not spoken of by any author of those times with the hor- ror it deserves, or scarcely * even with disapprobation. Plu- tarch, the humane, good-natured Plutarch}-, mentions it as a merit in Attalus, king of Pergamus, that he murdered, or, if you will, exposed all his own children, in order to leave his crown to the son of his brother, F.umknks; signalizing in this manner his gratitude and affection to Eumenes, who had left him his heir preferably to that son. It was Solon, the most celebrated of the sages of Greece, that gave parents permission by law to kill their childrenf. Shall we then allow these two circumstances to compensate each other, to wit, monastic vows and the exposing of childern, and to be unfavourable, in equal degrees, to the propagation of mankind ? I doubt the advantage is here on the side of antiqui- ty. Perhaps, by an odd connexion of causes, the barbarous practice of the ancients might rather render those times more populous. By removing the terrors of too numerous a family it would engage many people in marriage; and such is the force of natural affection, that very few, in comparison, would have resolution enough, when it came to the push, to carry into exe» cution their former intentions. China, the only country where this practice of exposing chil- dren prevails at present, is the most populous country we know of; and every man is married before he is twenty. Such early marriages could scarcely be general, had not men the prospect of • Tacitus blames it. De morib. Germ. f De fraterno amore. Seneca also approves of the exposing of sickly in- firm children. De ira, lib- i. cap. 15. i Sext. Emp. lib. iii. cap. 24. populousness of ancient nations. 411 so. easy a method of getting rid of their children. I own, that * Plutarch speaks of it as a very general maxim of the poor to expose their children; and as the rich were then averse to marriage, on account of the courtship they met with from those who expected legacies from them, the public must have been in a bad situation between themf. Of all sciences there is none, where first appearance is more deceitful than in politics. Hospitals for foundlings seem favour- able to the encrease of numbers; and perhaps, may be so, when kept under proper restrictions. But when they open the door to every one, without distinction, they have probably a contrary effect, and are pernicious to the state. It is computed, that every ninth child born at Paris, is sent to the hospital; though it seems certain, according to the common course of human affairs, that it is not a hundredth child whose pa- rents are altogether incapacitated to rear and educate him. The great difference, for health, industry and morals, be- tween an education in an hospital and that in a private fami- ly, should induce us not to make the entrance into the former too easy and engaging. To kill one's own child is shocking to nature, and mustjtherefore be somewhat unusual; but to turn over the care of him upon others, is very tempting to the natu- ral indolence of mankind. Having considered the domestic life and manners of the an- cients, compared to those of the moderns; where, in the main, we seem rather superior, so far as the present question is con- cerned , we shall now examine the political customs and insti- tutions of both ages, and weigh their influence in retarding or forwarding the propagation of mankind. " De amore prolie. f See note [Z]. 412 ESSAY XI. Before the encrease of the Roman power, or rather till its full establishment, almost all the nations, which are the scene of an- cient history, were divided into small territories or petty com- monwealths, whereof course a great equality of fortune prevail- ed, and the centre of the government was always very near its frontiers. This was the situation of affairs not only in Greece and Italy, but also in Spain, Gaul, Germany, Afrio, and a great part of the Lesser Asia : And it must be owned, that no insti- tution could be more favourable to the propagation of mankind. For, though a man of an overgrown fortune, not being able to consume more than another, must share it with those who serve and attend him ; yet their possession being precarious, they have not the same encouragement to marry, as if eachchad a small fortune, secure and independent. Enormous cities^are, besides, destructive to society, beget vice and disorder of all kinds, starve the remoter provinces, and even starve them- selves, by the prices to which they raise all provisions. Where each man had his little house and field to himself, and each county had its capital, free and independent; what a happy situation of mankind! How favourable to industry and agri- culture ; to marriage and propagation ! The prolific virtue of men, were it to act in its full extent, without that restraint which poverty and necessity imposes on it, would double the number every generation : And nothing surely can give it more liberty, than such small commonwealths, and such an equality of fortune among the citizens. All small states naturally pro- duce equality of fortune, because they afford no opportunities of great encrease; but small commonwealths much more, by that division of power and authority which is essential to them. When Xenophon* returned after the famous expedition with Cyrus, he hired himself and 6000 of the Greeks into the ser- ♦ De exp. Ctb. Db. vii. Populousness of ancient nations. 413 vice of Seuthes, a prince of Thraoe; and the articles of his agreement were, that each soldier should receive a daric a month, each captain two darics, and he himself, as general, four : A regulation of pay which would not a little surprise our modern officers. Demosthenes and ^Eschines, with eight more were sent am- bassadors to Philip of Macedon, and their appointments for above four months were a thousand drachmas, which is less than a drachma a day for each ambassador.* But a drachma a day nay sometimes two,t was the pay of a common foot-soldier. A centurion among the Romans had only double pay to a private man, in Polybius's time4 and we accordingly find the gratuities after a triumph regulated by that propor- tion^ But Mark Anthony and the triumvirate gave the centurions five times the reward of the other||. So much had the encrease of the commonwealth encreased the inequality among the citizens.}.. It must be owned, that'the situation of affairs in modern times, with regard to civil liberty, as well as equality of fortune, is not near so unfavourable, either to the propagation or happiness of mankind. Europe is shared out mostly into great monarchies; and such parts of it as are divided into small territories, are commonly governed by absolute princes, who ruin their people by a mimicry of the great monarchs, in the splendor of their • Demost. de falsa leg. He calls it a considerable sum. | Thuctd. lib. iii. * Lib- vi. cap, 37. § Tit. Lit. lib. xli. cap. 7. 13. £f alibi passim. | Appiab. De bell. civ. lib. iv. J. Cssab gave the centurions ten times the gratuity of the common sol- diers, De bell. Gallico, lib. viii. In the Rhodian cartel, mentioned after- wards, no distinction in the ransom was made on account of ranks in the army. 414 ESSAY XI. court and number of their forces. Swisserland alone and Hol- land resemble the ancient republics; and though the former is far from possessing any advantage either of soil, climate, or commerce, yet the numbers of people, with which it abounds, notwithstanding their enlisting themselves into every service in Evrope, prove sufficiently the advantages of their political in- stitutions. The ancient republics derived their chief or only security from tlie numbers of their citizens. The Traohinians hav- ing lost great numbers of their people, the remainder, instead of enriching themselves by the inheritance of their fellow-citi- zens, applied to Sparta, their metropolis, for anew stock of in- habitants. The Spartans immediately collected ten thousand men; among whom the old citizens divided the lands of which the former proprietors had perished*. After Timoleon had banished Dionysius from Syracuse, and had settled the affairs of Sicily finding the cities of Syra- cuse and Sellinuntium extremely depopulated by tyranny, war, and faction, he invited over from Greece some new inha- bitants to repeople themf. Immediately forty thousand men (Plutarch^ says sixty thousand) offered themselves; and he distributed so many lots of land among them, to the great satis- faction of the ancient inhabitants: A proof at once of the max- ims of ancient policy, which affected populousness more than riches; and of the good effects of these maxims, in the extreme populousness of that small country, Greece, which could at once supply so great a colony. The case was not much different with the Romans in early times. He is a pernicious citizen, said M. Curius, who cannot be content with seven acres§. Such ideas of equality could not fail of producing great numbers of people. * Diob. Sic. lib. xii. Thucid. lib. iii. t Dion. Sic. lib. xvi. * In vita Timoi. § See note [AAJ. populousness of ancient nations. 415 We must now consider what disadvantages the ancients lay under with regard to populousness, and what checks they re- ceived from their political maxims and institutions. There are commonly compensations in every human condition : and though these compensations be not always perfectly equal, yet they serve, at least, to restrain the prevailing principle. To compare them and estimate their influence, is indeed difficult, even where they take place in the same age, and in neighbouring countries : But where several ages have intervened, and only scattered lights are afforded us by ancient authors; what can we do but amuse ourselves by talking pro and con, on an interesting sub- ject, and thereby correcting all hasty and violent determina- tions ? First, We may observe, that the ancient republics were al- most in perpetual war, a natural effect of their martial spirit, their love of liberty, their mutual emulation, und that hatred which generally prevails among nations that live in close neigh- bourhood. Now, war in a small state is much more destructive than in a great one; both because all the inhabitants, in the former case, must serve in the armies; and because the whole state is frontier, and is all exposed to the inroads of the enemy. The maxims of ancient war were much more destructive than those of modern; chiefly by that distribution of plunder, in which the soldiers were indulged. The private men in our armies are such a low set of people, that we find ..ny abundance, beyond their simple pay, breeds confusion and disorder among them, and a total dissolution of discipline. The very wretchedness and meanness of those, who fill the modern armies, render them less destructive to the countries which they invade: One instance, among many of the deceitfulness of first appearances in all political reasonings*. " The ancient soldiers, being free citizens, above the lowest rank, were all married. Our modern soldiers are either forced to live unmarried, or their marriages turn to small account towards the-encrease of mankind. A 416 ESSAY XI. Ancient battles were much more bloody, by the very nature of the weapons employed in them. The ancients drew up their men 16 or 20, sometimes 50 men deep, which made a narrow front; and it was not difficult to find a field, in which both armies might be marshalled, and might engage with each other. Even where any body of the troops was kept off by hedges, hillocks, woods, or hollow ways, the battle was not so soon decided be- tween the contending parties, but that the others had time to overcome the difficulties which opposed them, and take part in the engagement. And as the whole army was thus engaged, and each man closely buckled to his antagonist, the battles were commonly very bloody, and great slaughter was made on both sides, especially on the vanquished. The long thin lines re- quired by fire-arms, and the quick decision of the fray, render our modern engagements but partial rencounters, and enable the general, who is foiled in the beginning of the day, to draw oft' the greater part nf his army, sound and entire. The battles of antiquity, both by their duration, and their re semblance to single combats, were wrought up to a degree of fury quite unknown to later ages. Nothing could then engage the combatants to give quarter, but the hopes of profit, by making slaves of their prisoners. In civil wars, as we learn from Taci- tus*, the battles were the most bloody, because the prisoners were not slaves. What a stout resistance must be made, where the vanquish- ed expected so hard a fate! How inveterate the rage where the maxims of war were, in every respect, so bloody and severe! Instances are frequent, in ancient history, of cities besieged, whose inhabitants, rather than open their gates, murdered their wives and children, and rushed themselves on a voluntary death, circumstance which ought, perhaps, to be taken into consideration, as of some consequence in favour of the ancients. * Hist. lib. ii. cap. 44. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 417 sweetened perhaps by a little prospect of revenge upon the ene- my. Greeks*, as well as Barbarians, have often been wrought up to this degree of fury. And the same determined spirit and cruelty must, in other instances less remarkable, have been de- structive to human society, in those petty commonwealths, which Hved in close neighbourhood, and were engaged in perpetual wars and contentions. Sometimes the wars in Greece, says Plutarch,! were car- ried on entirely by inroads, and robberies, and piracies. Such a method of war must be more destructive in small states, than the bloodiest battles and sieges. By the laws of the twelve tables, possession during two years formed a prescription for land ; one year for moveables :| An indication, that there was not in Italy, at that time, much more order, tranquillity, and settled police, than there is at present among the Tartars. The only cartel I remember in ancient history, is that be- tween Demetrius Poliorcetes and the Rhodians ; when it' was agreed, that a free citizen should be restored for 1000 drachmas, a slave bearing arms for 500.U But secondly, it appears that ancient manners were more un- favourable than the modern, not only in times of war, but also in those of peace; and that too in every respect, except the love of civil liberty and of equality, which is, I own, of considerable importance. To exclude faction from a free government, is very difficult, if not altogether impracticable ; but such inve- • As Abydus, mentioned by Lrrr, lib. xxxi. cap. 17,18. and Folyb. lib. xvi. As also the Xakthians, Appian. de bell, civil, lib. iv. \ In vita Aratl * Inst. lib. ii. cap. 6, D Diod. Sicul. lib. xx, F 5 418 ESSAY XI. terate rage between the factions, and such bloody maxims, are found, in modern times, amongst religious parties alone. In an- cient history, we may always observe where one party prevailed, whether the nobles or people (for I can observe no difference in this respect*) that they immediately butchered all of the opposite party who fell into their hands, and banished such as had been so fortunate as to escape their fury. No form of process, no law, no trial, no pardon. A fourth, a third, perhaps near half of the city was slaughtered, or expelled, every revolution ; and the exiles always joined foreign enemies, and did all the mischief possible to their fellow-citizens ; till fortune put it in their power to take full revenge by a new revolution. And as these were frequent in such violent governments, the disorder, diffi- dence, jealousy, enmity, which must prevail, are not easy for us to imagine in this age of the world. There are only two revolutions I can recollect in ancient history, which passed without great severity, and great effusion of blood in massacres and assassinations, namely, the restora- tion of the Athenian Democracy by Thrasybulus, and the subduing of the Roman republic by Cjesar. We learn from an- cient history, that Thrasybulus passed a general amnesty for all past offences ; and first introduced that word, as well as practice, into Greece.! It appears, however, from many orations of Lysias,} that the chief, and even some of the sub- altern offenders, in the preceding tyranny, were tried, and capitally punished. And as to Cesar's clemency, though much celebrated, it would not gain great applause in the pre- sent age. He butchered, for instance, all Cato's senate, when * Ltsias, who was himself of the popular faction, and very narrowly escaped from the thirty tyrants, says, that the Democracy was as violent a government as the Oligarchy, Orat. 24. de statu popul. f Cicebo, Philip. 1. ♦ As orat. 11. contra Eratost. orat. 12. contra. Agorat. orat. 15. pro Mantith. populousness of ANCIENT NATIONS. 419 he became master of Utica* ; and these, we may readily be- lieve, were not the most worthless of the party. All those who had borne arms against that usurper, were attainted; and, by Hirtius's law, declared incapable of all public offices. These people were extremely fond of liberty; but seem not to have understood it very well. When the thirty tyrants first established their dominion at Athens, they began with seizing all the sycophants and informers, who had been so troublesome during the Democracy, and putting them to death by an arbitary sentence and execution. Every man, says Sallustj and Ly- siasJ, was rejoiced at these punishments ; not considering, that liberty was from that moment annihilated, The utmost energy of the nervous style of Thuc ydides, and the copiousness and expression of the Greek language, seem to sink under that historian, when he attempts to describe the dis- orders, which arose from faction throughout all the Grecian commonwealths. You would imagine, that he still labours with a thought greater than he can find words to communicate. And he concludes his pathetic description with an observation, which is at once refined and solid. " In these contests," says he, " those who were the dullest, and most stupid, and had the " least foresight, commonly prevailed. For being conscious of " this weakness, and dreading to be over-reached by those of " greater penetration, they went to work hastily, without pre- " meditation, by the sword and poinard, and thereby got, the " start of their antagonists, who were forming fine schemes and -' projects for their destruction||." 'Appian. debell. civ. lib. ii. f See Cesar's speech de bell- Catil. \ Orat. 24. And in orat. 29. he mentions the factious spirit of the po- pular assemblies as the only cause why these illegal punishments should displease. fl Lib. iii. 420 ESSAY XI. Not to mention Dionysius* the elder, who is computed to have butchered in cool blood above 10,000 of his fellow-citizens; or Agathoclesj, NabisJ, and others, still more bloody than he; the transactions, even in free governments, were extremely violent and destructive. At Athens, the thirty tyrants and the nobles, in a twelvemonth, murdered, without trial, about 1200 of the people, and banished above the half of the citizens that remained§. In Argos, near the same time, the people killed 1200 of the nobles; and afterwards their own demagogues, be- cause they had refused to carry their prosecutions farther||. The people also in Corcyra killed 1500 of the nobles, and ban- ished a thousand^. These numbers will appear the more sur- prising, if we consider the extreme smallness of these states. But all ancient history is full of such instances**. When Alexander ordered all the exiles to be restored throughout all the cities; it was found, that the whole amount- ed to 20,000 men ft; the remains probably of still greater slaughters and massacres. What an astonishing multitude in so narrow a country as ancient Greece ! And what domestic confusion, jealousy, partiality, revenge, heart-burnings, must tear those cities, where factions were wrought up to such a de- gree of fury and despair. ♦Pmit. de virt. & fort. Alex. f Dion. Sic. lib. xviii, xix. tTrr.Liv. xxxi. xxxiii, xxxiv. §Diod. Sic. lib. xiv. Isocbates says there were only 5000 banished- He makes the number of those killed aoumnt to 1500. Abeop. JEschihes contra Ctesiph. assigns precisely the same number. Seneca (de tranq. anim. cap. 5.) says 1300. (Dion. Sic. lib. xv. 1 Dion. Sic. lib. xiii, ••See note [BB.] ftDioD. Sic. lib. xyiii. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 421 It would be easier, says Isocrates to Philip, to raise an army in Greece at present from the vagabonds than from the cities. Even when affairs came not to such extremities (which they failed not to do almost in every city twice or thrice every cen- tury) property was rendered very precarious by the maxims of ancient government. Xenophon, in the Banquet of Socbates, gives us a natural unaffected description of the tyranny of the Athenian people. " In my poverty," says Charmides, " I « am much more happy than I ever was while possessed of " riches : as much as it is happier to be in security than in " terrors, free than a slave, to receive than to pay court, " to be trusted than suspected. Formerly I was obliged " to caress every informer ; some imposition was continu- " ally laid upon me ; and it was never allowed me to travel, " or be absent from the city. At present, when I am poor I " look big, and threaten others. The rich are afraid of me, and " show me every kind of civility and respect; and I am become " a kind of tyrant in the city.*" In one of the pleadings of LYSiAS,t the orator very coolly speaks of it, by the by, as a maxim of the Athenian people, that, whenever they wanted money, they put to death some of the rich citizens as well as strangers, for the sake of the for- feiture. In mentioning this, he seems not to have any intention of blaming them ; still less of provoking them, who were his audience and judges. Whether a man was a citizen or a stranger among that peo- ple, it seems indeed requisite, either that he should impoverish himself, or that the people would impoverish him, and perhaps • Pag. 885. ex edit. Letjnceav. f Orat. 29. in Nicom. 422 ESSAY XI. kill him into tlie bargain. The orator last mentioned gives a •pleasant account of liii estate laid out in the public service ;* that is, above the third of it in raree-shows and figured dances. I need not insist on the Greek tyrannies, which were alto- gether horrible. Even the mixed monarchies, by which most of the ancient states of Greece were governed, before the in- troduction of republics, were very unsettled. Scarcely any city, but Athens, says Isocrates, could show a succession of kings for four or five generations.! Besides many other obvious reasons for the instability of an- cient monarchies, the equal division of property among the brothers in private families, must, by a necessary consequence, contribute to unsettle and disturb the state. The universal pre- ference given to the elder by modern laws, though it encreases the inequality of fortunes, has, however, this good effect, that it accustoms men to the same idea in public succession, and cuts off all claim and pretension of the younger. The new settled colony of Heraclea, falling immediately into faction applied to Sparta, who sent Heripidas with full authority to quiet their dissentions. This man, not provoked by any opposition, not inflamed by party rage, knew no better expe- dient than immediately putting to death about 500 of the citi- zens.^ A strong proof how deeply rooted these violent max- ims of government were throughout all Greece. If such was the disposition of men's minds among that refin- ed people, what may be expected in the commonwealths of Ita- ly, Afric, Spain, and Gaul, which were denominated barba- rous ? Why otherwise did the Greeks so much value themselves • See note [CC] t Panath. * Dion. Sic. lib. xiv. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 423 on their humanity, gentleness, and moderation, above all other nations ? This reasoning seems very natural. But unluckily the history of the Roman commonwealth, in its earlier times, if we give credit to the received accounts, presents an opposite conclusion. No blood was ever shed in any sedition at Rome, till the murder of the Gracchi. Dionysius Halicarnass.eus*, observing the singular humanity of the Roman people in this particular, makes use of it as an argument that they were origi- nally of Grecian extraction: Whence we may conclude, that the factions and revolutions in the barbarous republics were usually more violent than even those of Greece above-men- tioned. If the Romans were so late in coming to blows, they made ample compensation, after they had once entered upon the bloody scene ; and Appian's history of their civil wars contains the most frightful picture of massacres, proscriptions, and for- feitures, that ever was presented to the world. What pleases most, in that, historian, is, that he seems to feel a proper resent- ment of these barbarous proceedings; and talks not with that provoking coolness and indifference, which custom had produc- ed in many of the Greek historians!. The maxim of ancient politics contain, in general, so little hu- manity and moderation, that it seems superfluous to give any particular reason for the acts of violence committed at any par- ticular period. Yet I cannot forbear observing, that the laws, in the later period of the Roman commonwealth, were so ab- surdly contrived, that they obliged the heads of parties to have recourse to these extremities. All capital punishments were abolished: However criminal, or, what is more, however dan- gerous any citizen might be, he could not regularly be punished otherwise than by banishment: And it became necessary, in * Lib. i. | See note [DD ] 424 ESSAY XI. the revolutions of party, to draw the sword of private vengeance; nor was it easy, when laws were once violated, tojset bounds to these sanguinary proceedings. Had Brutus himself prevailed over the triumvirate, could he, in common prudence, have al- lowed Octavius and Anthony, to live, and have contented him- self with banishing them to Rhodes or Marseilles, where they might still have plotted new commotions and rebellions ? His executing C. Antonius, brother to the triumvir, shows evident- ly his sense of the matter. Did not Cicero, with the approba- tion of all \he wise and virtuous of Rome, arbitrarily put to death Catiline's accomplices, contrary to law, and without any trial or form of process ? and if he moderated his executions, did it not proceed, either from the clemency of his temper, or the conjunctures of the times ? A wretched security in a go- vernment which pretends to laws and liberty ! Thus, one extreme produces another. In the same manner as excessive severity in the laws is apt to beget great relaxation in their execution; so their excessive lenity naturally produces cruelty and barbarity. It is dangerous to force us, in any case, to pass their sacred boundaries. One general cause of the disorders, so frequent in all ancient "•overnments, seems to have consisted in the great difficulty of establishing any Aristocracy in those ages, and the perpetual discontents and seditions of the people, whenever even the meanest and most beggarly were excluded from the legislature and from public offices. The very quality of freemen gave such a rank, being opposed to that of slave, that it seemed to entitle the possessor to every power and privilege of the commonwealth. Solon's* laws excluded no freeman from votes or elections, but confined some magistracies to a particular census ; yet were the people never satisfied till those laws were repealed. By the treaty with Antipater-j-, no Athenian was allowed a vote ♦ Plutabchcs in vita Solon, f Diod. Sic. lib. XTiii. populousness of ancient nations. 425 whose census was less than 2000 drachmas (about 60Z. Sterling). And though such a government would to us appear sufficiently democratical, it was so disagreeable to that people, that above two-thirds of them immediately left their country*. Cassander reduced that census to the half t; yet still the government was considered as an oligarchical tyranny, and the effect of foreign violence. Servius Tullius's^: laws seem equal and reasonable, by fix- ing the power in proportion to the property: Yet the Roman peo- ple could never be brought quietly to submit to them. In those days there was no medium between a severe, jealous Aristocracy, ruling over discontented subjects ; and a turbulent, factious, tyrannical Democracy. At present, there is not one republic in Europe, from one extremity of it to the other, that is not remarkable for justice, lenity, and stability, equal to, or even beyond Marseilles, Rhodes, or the most celebrated in antiquity. Almost all of them are well-tempered Aristocracies. But thirdly, there are many other circumstances, in which an- cient nations seem inferior to the modern, both for the happi- ness and encrease of mankind. Trade, manufactures, indus- try, were no where, in former ages, so flourishing as they are at present in Europe. The only garb of the ancients, both for males and females, seems to have been a kind of flannel, which they wore commonly white or grey, and which they scoured as often as it became dirty. Tyre, which carried on, after Car- thage, the greatest commerce of any city in the Mediterra- nean, before it was destroyed by Alexander, was no mighty city, if we credit Arrian's account of its inhabitants||. Athens + Id. ibid. f Id. ibid. * Tit. Liv. lib. i. cap. 43. B Lib. ii. There were 8000 killed during the siege ; and tlie captives amounted to 30,000. DIodorus Sicuitjs, lib. xvii, says only 13,000: But he accounts for this small number, by saying that the Tyrians had sent away before-hand part of their wives and children to Carthage. G3 436 ESSAY XI. is commonly supposed to have been a trading city: But it was as populous before the Median war as at any time after it, ac- cording to Herodotus*; yet its commerce, at that time, was so inconsiderable, that, as the same historian observesf, even the neighbouring coasts of Asia were as little frequented by the Greeks as the pillars of Hercules : For beyond these he con- ceived nothing. Great interest of money, and great profits of trade, are an in- fallible indication, that industry and commerce are but in their infancy. We read in Lysias \ of 100 per cent, profit made on a cargo of two talents, sent to no greater distance than from Athens to the Adriatic : Nor is this mentioned as an instance of extraordinary profit. Antidorus, says Demosthenes||, paid three talents and a half for a house which he let at a talent a year. And the orator blames his own tutors for not employing his money to like advantage. My fortune, says he, in eleven years minority, ought to have been tripled. The value of 20 of the slaves left by his father, he computes at 40 minas, and the yearly profit of their labour tat 12.§ The most moderate inte- rest at Athens, (for there was higherl often paid) was 12 per cent.** and that paidjmonthly. Not to insist upon the high in- terest, to which the vast sums distributed in elections had rais- ed moneytt at Rome, we find that Verres, before that factious period, stated 24 per cent, for money which he left in the hands of the publicans : And though Cicero, exclaims against this article, it is not on account of the extravagant usury ; but be- cause it had never been customary to state any interest on such • Lib. v. he makes the number of the citizens amount to 30,000. | lb. v. + Orat. 33. advers. Diagit. | Contra Apbob. p. 25. ex edit. Aldi. § Id. p. 19. ■ • 11d. ibid. •• Id. ibid, and JEschines contra CTBsirB, f\Epist. ad. Attic, lib. iv. epist. 15. populousness of ancient nations. 427 occasions*. Interest, indeed, sunk at Rome, after the settle- ment of the empire : But it never remained any considerable time so low, as in the commercial states of modern times.t Among the other inconveniencies, which the Athenians felt from the fortifying of Decelia by the Lacedemonians, it is re- presented by Thucydides,^ as one of the most considerable, that they could not bring over their corn from Eubea by land, passing by Oropus ; but were obliged to embark it, and to sail round the promontory of Sunium. A surprising instance of the imperfection of ancient navigation! For the water-carriage is not here above double the land. I do not remember a passage in any ancient author, where the growth of a city is ascribed to the establishment of a manufac- ture. The commerce, which is said to flourish, is chiefly the exchange of those commodities, for which different soils and climates were suited. The sale of wine and oil into Africa, according to Diodorus Siculus,|| was the foundation of tlie riches of Agrigentum. The situation of the city of Sybaris, according to the same author§ was the cause of its immense populousness; being built near the two rivers Crathys and Sybaris. But these two rivers, we may observe, are not navi- gable ; and could only produce some fertile vallies, for agricul- ture and tillage; an advantage so inconsiderable, that a modern writer would scarcely have taken notice of it. The barbarity of the ancientt yrants, together with the extreme love of liberty, which animated those ages, mu6t have banished every merchant and manufacturer, and have quite depopulated • Contra Verb. orat. 3. t *e« Easay IV. \ Lib. vii. S Lib. xiii. -§ Lib. xii. 428 ESSAY XI. the state, had it subsisted upon industry and commerce. While the cruel and suspicious Dionysius was carrying on his butche- ries, who, that was not detained by his landed property, and could have carried with him any art or skill to procure a sub- sistence in other countries, would have remained exposed to such implacable barbarity ? The persecutions of Philip II. and Lewis XIV. filled all Europe with the manufacturers of Flanders and of France. I grant, that agriculture is the species of industry chiefly re- quisite to the subsistence of multitudes ; and it is possible, that this industry may flourish, even where manufactures and other arts are unknown and neglected. Swisserland is at present a remarkable instance; where we find, at once, the most skilful husbandmen, and the most bungling tradesmen, that are to be met with in Europe. That agriculture flourished in Greece and Italy, at least in some parts of them, and at some periods, we have reason to presume : And whether the mechanical arts had reached the same degree of perfection, may not be esteem- ed so material ; especially, if we consider the great equality of riches in the ancient republics, where each family was obliged to cultivate, with the greatest care and industry, its own little field, in order to its subsistence. But is it just reasoning, because agriculture may, in some in- stances, flourish without trade or manufactures, to conclude, that, in any great extent of country, and for any great tract of time, it would subsist alone ? The most natural way, surely, pf encouraging husbandry, is, first, to excite other kinds of in- dustry, and thereby afford the labourer a ready market for his commodities, and a return of such goods as may contribute to his pleasure and enjoyment. This method is infallible and unir versal; and, as it prevails more in modern government than in the ancient, it affords a presumption of the superior populous- ness of the former. populousness of ancient nations. 429 Every man, says Xenophon,* may be a farmer : No art or skill is requisite: All consists in industry, and in attention to the execution. A strong proof, as Columella hints, that agri- culture was but little known in the age of Xenophon. All our later improvements and refinements, have they done nothing towards the easy subsistence of men, and consequently towards their propagation and encrease ? Our superior skill in mechanics; the discovery of new worlds, by which commerce has been so much enlarged ; the establishment of posts ; and the use of bills of exchange : These seem all extremely useful to the encouragement of art, industry, and populousness. Were we to strike off these, what a check should we give to every kind of business and labour, and what multitudes of fami- lies would immediately perish from want and hunger? And it seems not probable, that we could supply the place of these new inventions by any other regulation or institution. Have we reason to think, that the police of ancient states was any wise comparable to that of modern, or that men had then equal security, either at home, or in their journies by land or water ? I question not, but every impartial examiner would give us the preference in this particular.f Thus, upon comparing: the whole, it seems# impossible to as- sign any just reason, why the world should have been more populous in ancient than in modern times. The equality of property among the ancients, liberty, and the small divisions of their states, were indeed circumstances favourable to the propagation of mankind : But their wars were more bloody and destructive, their governments more factious and unsettled, commerce and manufactures more feeble and languishing, and the general police more loose and irregular. These latter dis- advantages seem to form a sufficient counterbalance to the for- * Oecon. f See Part I. Essay XI. 430 ESSAY XI. mer advantages ; and rather favour the opposite opinion to that which commonly prevails with regard to this subject. * But there is no reasoning, it may be said, against matter of fact. If it appear, that the world was then more populous than at present, we may be assured, that our conjectures are false, and that we have overlooked some material circumstance in the comparison. This I readily own: All our preceding reason- ings, I acknowledge to be mere trifling, or, at least, small skir- mishes and frivolous rencounters, which decide nothing. But unluckily the main combat, where we compare facts, cannot be rendered much more decisive. The facts, delivered by ancient authors, are either so uncertain or so imperfect as to afford us nothing positive in this matter. How indeed could it be other- wise ? The very facts, which we must oppose to them, in comput- ing the populousness of modern states, are far from being either certain or complete. Many grounds of calculation proceeded on b> celebrated writers, are little better than those of the Em- peror Heliogahalus, who formed an estimate of the immense greatness of Rome, from ten thousand pound weight of cobwebs which had been found in that city*. It is to be remarked, that all kinds of numbers are uncertain in ancient manuscripts, and have been subject to much greater corruptions than any other part of the text; and that for an ob- vipus reason. Any alteration, in other places, commonly affects the sense or grammar, and is more readily perceived by the reader and transcriber. Few enumerations of inhabitants have been made of any tract of country by any ancient author of good authority, so as to af- ford us a large enough view for comparison. It is probable, that there was formerly a good foundation for the number of citizens assigned to any free city; because they * JElii Lampbid. in vita Hbliooab. cap. 26. populousness of ancient nations. 431 entered for a share in the government, and there were exact re- gisters kept of them. But as the number of slaves is seldom mentioned, this leaves us in as great uncertainty as ever, with regard to the populousness even of single cities. The first page of Thucydides is, in my opinion, the com- mencement of real history. All preceding narrations are so intermixed with feble, that philosophers ought to abandon them, in a great measure, to the embellishment of poets and orators*. With regard to remote times, the numbers of people assigned are often ridiculous, and lose all credit and authority. The free citizens of Sybaris, able to bear arms, and actually drawn out in battle, were 300,000. They encountered at Siagra with 100,000 citizens of Crotona, another Greek city contiguous to them ; and were defeated. This is Diodorus SicuLus'sf ac- count; and is very seriously insisted on by that historian. Stra- bo{ also mentions the same number of Sybarites. Diodorus Siculus§, enumerating the inhabitants of Agri- gentum, when it was destroyed by the Carthaginians, says, that they amounted to 20,000 citizens, 200,000 strangers, be- sides slaves, who, in so opulent a city as he represents it, would probably be, at least, as numerous. We must remark, that the women and the children are not included; and that, therefore, upon the whole, this city must have contained near two millions of inhabitants]!. And what was the reason of so immense an encrease! They were industrious in cultivating the neighbouring fields, not exceeding a small English county; and they traded with their wine and oil to Africa, which, at that time, produced none of these commodities. •See note [EE]. fLib. xii. +Lib. vi. §Lib. xiii. [Diogenes Laebtitjs (in vita Empebociis) says, that Aebigentom con- tained only 800,000 inhabitants. 432 ESSAY XI. Ptolemv, says Theocritus*, commands 33,339 cities. 1 suppose the singularity of the number was the reason of assign- ing it. Diodorus Sic uLusf assigns three millions of inhabitants to iEGYPT, a small number : But then he makes the number of cities amount to 18,000: An evident contradiction. He saysj, the people were formerly Seven millions. Thus remote times are always most envied and admired. That Xerxes's army was extremely numerous, I can readily believe; both from the great extent of his empire, and from the practice among the eastern nations, of encumbering their camp with a superfluous multitude: But will any rational man cite Herodotus's wonderful narrations as an authority ? There is something very rational, I own, in Lysias's§ argument upon this subject. Had not Xerxes's army been incredibly numerous, says he, he had never made a bridge over the Hellespont : It had been much easier to have transported his men over so short a passage, with the numerous shipping of which he was master, Polybius|| says, that the Romans, between the first and se- cond Punic wars, being threatened with an invasion from the Gauls, mustered all their own forces, and those of their allies, and found them amount to seven hundred thousand men able to bear arms: A great number surely, and which, when joined to the slaves, is probably not less, if not rather more, than the ex- tent of country affords at present^.. The enumeration too seems to have been made with some exactness; and Polybius gives us the detail of the particulars. But might not the number be magnified, in order to. encourage the people ? * Idyll. 17. t Lib- i- * Myll. 17. § Orat. funebris. H Lib. ii. | The country that supplied this number, was not above a third of Ita lt, viz. the Pope's dominions, Tuscan r, and a part of the kingdom of Naples : But perhaps in those early times there were very few slaves, except in Rome, or the great cities. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 433 Diodorus Siculus* makes the same enumeration amount to near a million. These variations are suspicious. He plainly too supposes, that Italy in his time was not so populous: Ano- ther suspicious circumstance. For who can believe, that the inhabitants of that country diminished from the time of the first Punic war to that of the triumvirates ? Julius Cesar according to AppiANt, encountered four mil- lions of Gauls, killed one million, and made another million pri- soners:!. Supposing the number of the enemy's army and that of the slain could be exactly assigned, which never is possible ; how could it be known how often the same man returned into the armies, or how distinguish the new from the old levied sol- diers ? No attention ought ever to be given to such loose exag- gerated calculations; especially where the author does not tell us the mediums, upon which the calculations were founded. Paterculus§ makes the number of Gauls killed by Cbsar amount only to 400,000: A more probable account, and more easily reconciled to the history of these wars given by that con- queror himself in his Commentaries!|. The most bloody of his battles were fought against the Helvetii and the Germans. One would imagine, that every circumstance of the life and actions of Dionysius the elder might be regarded as authentic, and free from all fabulous exaggeration ; both because he lived at a time when letters flourished most in Greece, and because his chief historian was Philistus a man allowed to be of great ge- nius, and who was a courtier and minister of that prince. But can we admit, that he had a standing army of 100,000 foot, * Lib. ii. j- Celtica. i Plutarch (in vita Cms.) makes the number that Cxbab fought with amount to three millions ; Julian (in Cjesabibus) to two- § Lib. ii. cap. 47. !l See note [FF]. i, * , ?; H3 434 ESSAY XI. 10,000 horse, and a fleet of 400 gallies* ? These, we may ob- serve, were mercenary forces, and subsisted upon pay, like our armies in Europe. For the citizens were all disarmed; and when Dion afterwards invaded Sicily, and called on his coun- trymen to vindicate their liberty, he was obliged to bring arms along with him, which he distributed among those who joined himf. In a state where agriculture alone flourishes, there may be many inhabitants; and if these be all armed and disciplined, a great force may be called out upon occasion : But great bo- dies of mercenary troops can never be maintained, without ei- ther great trade and numerous manufactures, or extensive domi- nions. The United Provinces never were masters of such a force by sea and land, as that which is said to belong to Diony- sius ; yet they possess as large a territory, perfectly well culti- vated, and have muck more resources from their commerce and industry. Diodorus Siculus allows, that, even in his time, the army of Dionysius appeared incredible ; that is, as I inter- pret it, was entirely a fiction, and the opinion arose from the exaggerated flattery of the courtiers, and perhaps from the van- ity and policy of the tyrant himself. It is a usual fallacy, to consider all the ages of antiquity as one period, and to compute the numbers contained in the great cities mentioned by ancient authors, as if these cities had been all cotemporary. The Greek colonies flourished extremely in Sicily during the age of Alexander : But in Augustus's time they were so decayed, that almost all the produce of that fer- tile island was consumed in Italy|. Let us now examine the numbers of inhabitants assigned to particular cities in antiquity; and omitting the numbers of Ni- neveh, Babylon, and the Egyptian Thebes, let us confine ourselves to the sphere of real history, to the Grecian and * Dion. Sic. lib. ii. f Plutabch in vita Dionts. t Strabo, lib, vi. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 435 Roman states. I must own, the more I consider this subject} the more am I inclined to scepticism, with regard to the great populousness ascribed to ancient times. Athens is said by Plato* to be a very great city; and it was surely the greatest of all the Greek! cities, except Syracuse, which was nearly about the same size in Thucydides'sJ time, and afterwards encreased beyond it. For Cicero§ mentions it as the greatest of allthe Greek cities in his time; not compre - hending, I suppose, either Antioch or Alexandria under that denomination. Athenjeus|| says, that, by the enumeration of Demetrius Phalereus, there were in Athens 21,000 citizens, 10,000 strangers, and 400,000 slaves. This number is much in- sisted on by those whose opinion I call in question, and is es- teemed a fundamental fact to their purpose: But, in my opinion, there is no point of criticism more certain, than that Athenaus and Ctesicles, whom he quotes, are here mistaken, and that the number of slaves is, at least, augmented by a whole cypher, and ought not to be regarded as more than 40,000. First, when the number of citizens is said to be 21,000 by ATHENJEusf, men of full age are only understood. For, (I.) Herodotus says**, that Aristaqoras, ambassador from the Ionians, found it harder to deceive one Spartan than 30,000 • Apolog. S»CB. \ Abgos seems also to have been a great city; for Lycias contents him- self with saying that it did not exceed Atheks. Orat. 34. \ Lib. vi. See also Plutarch in vita Nicix. % Orat. contra Vxrrxk, lib. iv. cap. 52. Stbabo, lib. vi. says, it wat twenty-two miles in compass. But then we are to consider, that it contain* ed two harbours within it; one of which was a very large one, and might be regarded as a kind of bay. g Lib. vi. cap. 20. 1 Demosthenes assigns 20,000; eantra Arista*., **Lib. r. 400 ESSAY XI. Athenians ; meaning, in a loose way, the whole state, supposed to be met in one popular assembly, excluding the women and children. (2.) Thucydides* says, that, making allowance for all the absentees in the fleet, army, garrisons, and for people employed in their private affairs, the Athenian assembly never rose to five thousand. (3.) The forces, enumerated by the same historianf, being all citizens, and amounting to 13,000 heavy- armed infantry, prove the same method of calculation $ as also the whole tenor of the Greek historians, who always under- stand men of full age, when they assign the number of citizens in any republic. Now, these being but the fourth of the inhabi- tants, the free Athenians were by this account 84,000; the strangers 10,000; and the slaves, calculating by the smaller number, and allowing that they married and propagated at the same rate with freemen, Wcvo 160,000; and the whole of the in- habitants 284,000: A number surely large enough. The other number, 1,720,000, makes Athens larger than London and Paris united. Secondly, There were but 10,000 houses in Athens^, Thirdly, Though the extent of the walls, as given us by Thu- cydides§, be great, (to wit, eighteen miles, beside the sea- coast) : Yet Xenophon|| says, there was much waste ground within the walls. They seem indeed to have joined four dis- tinct and separate citieslf. Fourthly, No insurrection of the slaves, or suspicion of insur- rection, is ever mentioned by historians; except one commotion of the miners.** ♦Lib. viiL flib. ii. Diodorus Sicttltjs's account perfectly agrees, lib. xii. 4Xinophon. Mem. Lib. ii. §Lib. ii. \De rations red. ISee note [GG.] "Atbih. lib. vi. POPULOUSNESS op ancient NATIONS. 437 Fifthly, The treatment of slaves by the Athenians is said by Xenophon*, and Demosthenes!, and PlautusJ, to have been extremely gentle and indulgent: Which could never have been the case, had the disproportion been twenty to one. The dis- proportion is not so great in any of our colonies; yet are we obliged to exercise a rigorous military government over the ne- groes. Sixthly, No man is ever esteemed rich for possessing what may be reckoned an equal distribution of property in any coun- try, or even triple or quadruple that, wealth. Thus every per- son in England is computed by some to spend six-pence a day: Yet is he esteemed but poor who has five times that sum. Now Timarchus is said by iEscHiNEs|| to have been left in easy cir- cumstances ; but he was master only of ten slaves employed in manufactures. Lysias and his brother, two strangers, were proscribed by the thirty for their great riches; though they had but sixty a-piece§. Demosthenes was left very rich by his father; yet he had no more than fifty-two slaves!. His work- house, of twenty cabinet-makers, is said to be a very conside- rable manufactory**. Seventhly, During the Decelian war, as the Greek histo- rians call it, 20,000 slaves deserted and brought the Athenians to great distress, as we learn from THUCYDiDEsft. This could not have happened, had they been only the twentieth part. The best slaves would not desert. Eightly, Xenophon^ proposes a scheme for maintaining by the public 10,000 slaves : And that so great a number may pos- *De rep. Atben. fPBILIP. 3. *Sticbo. | Contra Timahch- § Orat. 11. 1 Contra Aphob. •♦Ibid. tf Lib. vii, *$ De rat. red. 438 ESSAY XI. sibly be supported, any one will be convinced, says he, who considers the numbers we possessed before the Dccelian war. A way of speaking altogether incompatible^with the larger num- ber of Athenveus. JVinthly, The whole census of the state of Athens was less than G000 talents. And though numbers in ancient manuscripts be often suspected by critics, yet this is unexceptionable; both because Demosthenes*, who gives it, gives also the detail, which cbe< ks him; and because PoLYBiusf assigns the same number, and reasons upon it. Now, the most vulgar slave could yield by his labour an obolus a day, over and above his mainte- nance, as we learn from Xenophon}:, who says, that Nicias'i overseer paid bis master so much for slaves, whom he employed in mines. If you will take the pains to estimate an obolus a day, and the slaves at 40,000 computing only at four years purchase, you will find the sum above 12,000 talents; even though allow- ance be made for the great number of holidays in Athens. Be- siti... many of the slaves would have a much greater value from their art. The lowest that Demosthenes estimates any of his§ father's slaves is two minas a head. And upon this supposition, it is a little difficult, I confess, to reconcile even the number of 40,000 slaves with the census of 6000 talents. Tenthly, Chios is said by Thucydides||, to contain more slaves than any Greek city except Sparta. Sparta then had more than Athens, in proportion to the number of citizens. The Spartans were 9000 in the town, 30,000 in the country!. The male slaves, therefore, of full age, must have been more than 78,000; the whole more than 3,120,000. A number impossible to be maintained in a narrow barren country, such as Laconia, which had no trade. Had the Helotes been so very numerous* • De classibu*. t Lib. ii. cap. 62. i De rat. red. $ Contra Apbobcm. 1 Lib. viii. ^ Plutarch- in vita Ltcurg. POPULOUSNESS OF ANOIENT NATIONS. 439 the murder of 2000 mentioned by Thuoydides*, would have irritated them, without weakening them. Besides, we are to consider, that the number assigned by ATHENiEust whatever it is, comprehends all the inhabitants of Attica, as well as those of Athens. The Athenians af- fected much a country life, as we learn from Thucydides;{ and when they were all chased into town, by the invasion of their territory during the Peloponnesian war, the city was not able to contain them; and they were obliged to lie in the porticoes, temples, and even streets, for want of lodging.|j The same remark is to be extended to all the other Greek cities ; and when the number of citizens is assigned, we must always understand it to comprehend the inhabitants of the neighbouring country, as well as of the city. Yet, even with this allowance, it must be confessed, that Greece was a popu- lous country, and exceeded what we could imagine concerning so narrow a territory, naturally not very fertile, and which drew no supplies of corn from other places. For excepting Athens, which traded to Pontus for that commodity, the other cities seem to have subsisted chiefly from their neighbouring terri- tory.§ Rhodes is well known to have been a city of extensive com- merce, and of great fame and splendor; yet it contained only • Lib. iv. f The same author affirms, that Cobinth had once 460,000 slaves JEoi- na 470,000. But the foregoing arguments hold stronger against these facts, which are indeed entirely absurd and impossible. It is however remark- able, that Athenetjs cites so great an authority as Abistotlb for this last fact: And the scholiast on Pikdar mentions the same number of slaves in /Egiwa. * Lib- »• 11 Thbcib. lib. ii. § See note [HH.] 440 ESSAY XI. 6000 citizens able to bear arms, when it was besieged by De- metrius.* Thebes was always one of the capital cities of Grf.f.ce :f But the number of its citizens exceeded not those of Rhodes.} Phliasia is said to be a small city by Xenophon,!! yet we find, that it contained 6000 citizens.§ I pretend not | to re- concile these two facts. Perhaps Xenophon calls Phliasia a small town, because it made but a small figure in Greece, and maintained only a subordinate alliance with Sparta j or perhaps the country, belonging to it, was extensive, and most of the citizens were employed in the cultivation of it, and dwelt in the neighbouring villages. Mantinea was equal to any city in Arcadia :1f Consequent- ly it was equal to Megalopolis, which was fifty stadia, or six miles and a quarter in circumference.** But Mantinea had only 3000 citizens.ft The Greek cities,Ttherefore, contained often fields and gardens, together with the houses; and we can- not judge of them by the extent of their walls. Athens con- tained no more than 10,000 houses; yet its walls, with the sea- coast, were above twenty miles in extent. Syracuse ?was twenty-two miles in circumference; yet was scarcely ever spoken of by the ancients as more populous than Athens. Babylon was a square of fifteen miles, or sixty miles in circuit; but it contained large cultivated fields and inclosures, as wc learn from Pliny. Though Aureli an's wall was fifty miles in * Dion. Sic. lib. xx Isocr. paneg. t See note [II.] U Hist. Gb.ec. lib. vii. § Id. lib. vii. If Polxb. lib. ii. ** Polyc. lib. ix. cap. 20. ft Ltsias. orat. 34. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 441 circumference;* the circuit of all the thirteen divisions of Rome, taken apart, according to Publius Victor, was only about forty-three miles. When an enemy invaded the country, all the inhabitants retired within the walls of the ancient cities, with their cattle and furniture, and instruments of husbandry: and the great height, to which the walls were raised, enabled a small number to defend them with facility. Sparta, says Xenophon!, is one of the cities of Greece that has the fewest inhabitants. Yet Polybius}: says, that it was forty-eight stadia in circumference, and was round. All the Aetolians able to bear arms in Antipatrr's time, deducting some few garrisons, were but ten thousand men.§ Polybius|| tells us, that the Ach^an league might, with- out any inconvenience, march 30 or 40,000 men : And this ac- count seems probable: For that league comprehended the greater part of Peloponnesus. Yet PausaniasIT, speaking of the same period, says, that all the Ach-eans able to bear arms, even when several manumitted slaves Were joined to them, did not amount to fifteen thousand. The Thessalians, till their final conquest by the Romans, were, in all ages, turbulent, factious, seditious, disorderly**. It is not therefore natural to suppose, that this part of Greece abounded much in people. We are told by THUcYDiDEstt* that the part of Pelopon- nesus, adjoining to Pylos, was desart and uncultivated. He- * Vopiseu8 in vita Avrxl. ■}■ De rep. Laced. This passage is not easily reconciled with that of Plctabcb above, who says, that Sfabta had 9000 citizens. tPotTB.lib. ix.cap. 20. § Dion. Sic. lib. xviii. JLeoat. % /«Acbaicis. ** Tit. Liv. lib. xiiv. cap. 51. Plato in Crttonx. ff Lib. vii 13 442 ESSAY XI. rodotus says*, that Macedonia was full of lions and wild bulls; animals which can only inhabit vast unpeopled forests. These were the two extremities of Greece. All the inhabitants of Epirus, of all ages, sexes and condi- tions, who were sold by Paulus .ZEmilius, amounted only to 150,000f. Yet Epibus might be double the extent of York- shire. JuStin| tells us, that, when Philip of Macedon was de- clared head of the Greek confederacy, he called a congress of all the states, except the Lacedemonians, who refused to con- cur; and he found the force of the whole, upon computation, to amount to 200,000 infantry, and 15,000 cavalry. This must be understood to be all the citizens capable of bearing arms. For as the Greek republics maintained no mercenary forces, and had no militia distinct from the whole body of the citizens, it is not conceivable what other medium there could be of com- putation. That such an army could ever, by Greece, be brought into the field, and be maintained there, is contrary to all history. Upon this supposition, therefore, we may thus reason. The free Greeks of all ages and sexes were 860,000. The slaves, estimating them by the number of Athenian slaves as above, who seldom married or had families, were dou- ble the male citizens of full age, to wit, 430,000. And all the inhabitants of ancient Greece, excepting Laconia, were about one million two hundred and ninety thousand : no mighty number, nor exceeding what may be found at present in Scot- land, a country of not much greater extent, and very indiffer- ently peopled. We may now consider the numbers of people in Rome and Italy, and collect all the lights afforded us by scattered pas- * Lib. vii. t Trr. Liv. lib. xlv. cap. 34. % Lib. Lx. cap. 5. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 443 sages in ancient authors. We shall find, upon the whole, a great difficulty, in fixing any opinion on that head; and no reason to support those exaggerated calculations, so much in- sisted on by modern writers. Dyonysius Halicarnassjeus * says, that the ancient walls of Rome were nearly of the same compass with those of Athens, but that the suburbs ran out to a great extent; and it was difficult to tell, where the town ended or the country began. In some places of Rome, it appears, from the same authort, from Juvenal^, and from other ancient writers||, that the houses were high, and families lived in separate sto- reys, one above another: But it is probable, that these were only the poorer citizens, and only in some few streets. If we may judge from the younger Pliny's§ account of his own house, and from Bartoli's plans of ancient buildings, the men of qua- lity had very spacious palaces; and their buildings were like the Chinese houses at this day, where each apartment is sepa- rated from the rest, and rises no higher than a single story. To which if we add, that the Roman nobility much affected exten- sive porticoes, and even woodsy in town; we may perhaps allow Vossius (though there is no manner of reason for it) to read the famous passage of the elder Pliny** his own way, without ad- mitting the extravagant consequences which he draws from it. The number of citizens who received corn by the public dis- tribution in the time of Augustus, were two hundred thou- sandth This one would esteem a pretty certain ground of cal- culation : Yet is it attended with such circumstances as throw us back into doubt and uncertainty. •Lib. Iv. fLib. *. » *Satyr. iii. 1. 269,270. Usee note [KK], §See note [LL]. J.Vithuv. lib. v. cap, 11, Tacit, annal. lib. xi. cap. 3. Suiton. in vita Qctav. cap. 72, &c •♦See note [MMJ. \\Ex monument. Ancyr. 444 ESSAY XL Did the poorer citizens only receive the distribution ? It was calculated, to be sure, chiefly for their benefit. But it appears from a passage in Cicero* that the rich might also take their portion, and that it was esteemed no reproach in them to apply for it. To whom was the corn given; whether only to heads of fami- lies, or to every man, woman, and child ? The portion every month was five modii to eachf (about five-sixths of a bushel), This was too little for a family, and too much for an individual. A very accurate antiquary^, therefore, infers, that it was given to every man of full age: But he allows the matter to be uncer- tain. Was it strictly enquired, whether the claimant lived within the precincts of Rome; or was it sufficient, that he presented himself at the monthly distribution ? This last seems more pro- bable §. Were there no false claimants ? We are told||, that Cesar struck off at once 170,000, who had creeped in without a just 'title; and it is very little probable, that he remedied all abuses. But, lastly, what proportion of slaves must we assign to these citizens? This is the most material question; and the most *Tvsp. Qiuett. lib. iii. cap= 48. \Liciniua apud SaUust. hist-frag. lib. iii. iNicolatu Hortensius de re frumentaria Soman. §Not to take the people too much from their business, Augustus or* dained the distribution of corn to be made only thrice a-year; But the people finding the monthly distributions more convenient, (as preserving, I suppose, a more regular oeconomy in their family) desired to have them restored. Suiton. August, cap. 40. Had not some of the people come from some distance for their corn, Augustus's precaution seems superflu- ous. I Suet on. in Jut. cap. 41 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 445 uncertain. It is very doubtful, whether Athens can be esta- blished as a rule for Rome. Perhaps the Athenians had more slaves, because they employed them in manufactures, for which a capital city, like Rome, seems not so proper. Perhaps, on the other hand, the Romans had more slaves, on account of their superior luxury and riches. There were exact bills of mortality kept at Rome ; but no ancient author has given us the number of burials, except Sue- tonius*, who tells us, that in one season, there were 30,000 names carried to the temple of Libitina : But this was during a plague; which can afford no certain foundation for any infer- ence. The public corn, though distributed only to 200,000 citizens, affected very considerably the whole agriculture of Italy!-" a fact no wise reconcileable to some modern exaggerations with re- gard to the inhabitants of that country. The best ground of conjecture I can find concerning the great* ness of ancient Rome, is this : We are told by HerodianJ, that Antioch and Alexandria were very little inferior to Rome. It appears from Diodorus Siculus§, that one straight street of Alexandria reaching from gate to gate, was five miles long; and as Alexandria was much more extended in length than breadth, it seems to have been a city nearly of the bulk of Paris|| ; and Rome might be about the size of London. There lived in Alexandria, in Diodorus Siculus's timej, 300,000 free people, comprehending, I suppose, women and children. But what number of slaves ? Had we any just ground to fix these at an equal number with the free inhabi- tants, it would favour the foregoing computation. * In vita Neronis. f Sueton. Aug. cap. 42. t Lib. iv. cap. 5. §Lib. xvti. J See note [NN], JLLb, xvij, 446 ESSAY XI. There is a passage in Herodian, which is a little surprising. He says positively, that the palace of the Emperor was as large as all the rest of the city. This was Nero's golden house, which is indeed represented by Suet©nius* and Pliny as of an enormous extentf; but no power of imagination can make us conceive it to bear any proportion to suchacity as London. We may observe, had the historian been relating Nero's ex- travagance, and had he made use of such an expression, it would have had much less weight; these rhetorical exaggerations being so apt to creep into an author's style, even when the most chaste and correct. But it is mentioned by Herodian only by the by, in relating the quarrels between Geta and Caracalla. e It appears from the same historian^, that there was then much land uncultivated, and put to no manner of use; and he ascribes it as a great praise to Pertinax, that he allowed every one to take such land either in Italy or elsewhere, and cultivate it as he pleased, vithout paying any taxes, Lands uncultivated, arid put to no manner of use! This is not heard of in any part of Christendom; except in some remote parts of Hungary ; as I have been infqrmed. And it surely corresponds very ill with that idea of the extreme populousness of antiquity, so much in- sisted on. We learn from Vopiscus||, that there was even in Etruria much fertile land uncultivated, which the Emperor Aurelian intended to convert into vineyards, in order to furnish the Ro- man people with a gratuitous distribution of wine; a very pro- per expedient for depopulating still farther that capital and all the neighbouring territories. ' See note [00], t Punius, lib. xxzvi cap. 15. " Bis vidimus urbem totam cingi domi- " bus principum, Caii ac Nebonis." * Lib. ii. cap. 15. J In Aubmian. cap. 48. P0PULOUSNE9S OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 447 It may not be amiss to take, notice of the account which Polybius* gives of the great herds of swine to be met with in Tuscany and Lombardy, as well as in Greece, and of the method of feeding them which was then practised. " There are great herds of swine," says he, " throughout " all Italy, particularly in former times, through Etruria " and Cisalpine Gaul. And a herd frequently consists of " a thousand or more swine. When one of these herds in " feeding meets with another, they mix together; and the " swine herds have no other expedient for separating them than " to go to different quarters, where they sound their horn; and " these animals, being accustomed to that signal, run immedi- " ately each to the horn of his own keeper. Whereas in " Greece, if the herds of swine happen to mix in the forests. " he who has the greater flock, takes cunningly the opportunity " of driving all away. And thieves are very apt to purloin the " straggling hogs, which have wandered to a distance from " their keeper in search of food." ' May we not infer from this account, that the north of Italy, as well as Greece, was then much less peopled, and worse cultivated, than at present? How could these vast herds be fed in a country so full of inclosures, so improved by agriculture, so divided by farms, so planted with vines and corn intermin- gled together ? I must' confess, that Polybius's relation has more the air of that oeconomy which is to be met with in our American colonies, than the management of a European country. We meet with a reflection in Aristotle's! Ethic's, which seems unaccountable on any supposition, and by proving too much in favour of our present reasoning, may be thought really to prove nothing. That philosopher treating of friendship, and observing that this relation ought neither to be contracted to a * Lib. xii. cap. 2. fLib. ix. cap. 10. 448 ESSAY XI. very few, nor extended over a great multitude, illustrates hi? Opinion by the following argument. " In like manner," says he, " as a city cannot subsist, if it either have so few inhabitants as " ten, or so many as a hundred thousand; so isthereamedi- " ocrity required in the number of friends; and you destroy the " essence of friendship by running into either extreme."— What! impossible that a city can contain a hundred thousand inhabitants ! Had Aristotle never seen nor heard of a city so populous ? This, I must own passes my comprehension. Pliny* tells us that Selucia, the seat of the Greek empire in the East, was reported to contain 600,000 people. Car thage is said by Straboj to have contained 700,000. The in- habitants of Pekin are not much more numerous. London, Paris, and Constantinople, may admit of nearly the same computation; at least the two latter cities do not exceed it. Rome, Alexandria, Antioch, we have already spoken of. From the experience of past and present ages, one might con- jecture that there is a kind of impossibility, that any city could ever rise much beyond this proportion. Whether the grandeur of a city be founded on commerce or on empire, there seem to be invincible obstacles which prevent its farther progress. The seats of vast monarchies, by introducing extravagant luxury, irre- gular expence, idleness, dependence, and false ideas of rank and superiority, are improper for commerce. Extensive commerce checks itself, by raising the price of all labour and commodities. When a great court engages the attendance of a numerous no- bility, possessed of overgrown fortunes, the middling gentry remain in their provincial towns, where they can make a figure on a moderate income. And if the dominions of a state arrive at an enormous size, there necessarily "arise many capitals in the re- moter provinces, whither all the inhabitants, except a few cour- tiers, repair for education, fortune, and amusement.f London, •Lib. vi. cap. 28. fLib. xvii. t Such were Alexandria, Antiocb, Cartbagk, Ephesusj Ltons, &c. in the Romas empire. Such are even Bourdjeaux, Thodouse, Hvwneb, POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 449 by uniting extensive commerce and middling empire, has, per- haps, arrived at a greatness, which no city will ever be able to exceed. Choose Dover or Calais for a centre: Draw a circle of two hundred miles radius: You comprehend London, Paris, the Netherlands, the United Provinces, and some of the best cultivated parts of France and England. It may safely, I think, be affirmed, that no spot of ground can be found, in anti- quity, of equal extent, which contained near so many great and populous cities, and was so stocked with riches and inhabitants. To balance, in both periods, the states, which possessed most art, knowledge, civility, and the best police, seems the truest method of comparison. It is an observation of L'Abbe du Bos, that Italy is warm- er at present than it was in ancient times. " The annals of " Rome tell us," says he, " that in the year 480 ab U. C. the i( winter was so severe that it destroyed the trees. The Tyber " froze in Rome, and the ground was covered with snow for " forty days. Whe» Juvenal* describes a superstitious wo- " man, he represents her as breaking the ice of the Tyber, that i( she might perform her ablutions : " Hybernum fracta glacie descendet in amnem, " Ter matutino Tyberi mergetur. ^ He speaks of that river's freezing as a common event. Many i( passages of Horace suppose the streets of Rome full of snow " and ice. We should have more certainty with regard to " this point, had the ancients known the use of thermometers : " But their writers, without intending it, give us information, Rouen, Aix, &c in Fbancs ; DubkIv, Edinburgh, York, in the Barm* dominions. * Sat. 6. K 3 450 ESSAY XI. " sufficient to convince us, that the winters are now much more " temperate at Rome than formerly. At present the Tyber " no more freezes at Rome than the Nile at Cairo. The " Romans esteem the winters very rigorous, if the snow lie two " days, and if one see for eight and forty hours a few icicles " hang from a fountain that has a north exposure." The observation of this ingenious critic may be extended to other European climates. Who could discover the mild cli- mate of France in Diodorus Siculus's* description of that of Gaul ? " As it is a northern climate," says he, " it is infest- " ed with cold to an extreme degree. In cloudy weather, in- " stead of rain there fall great snows ; and in clear weather it " there freezes so excessive hard, that the rivers acquire bridg- " es of their own substance, over which, not only single tra- " vellers may pass, but large armies, accompanied with all their " baggage and loaded waggons. And there being many rivers ;i in Gaul, the Rhone, the Rhine, &c. almost all of them are "frozen over; and it is usual, in order to prevent falling, to '• cover the ice with chaff and straw at the places where the iS road ^passes." Colder than a Gallic Winter, is used by Petronius as a proverbial expression. Aristotle says, that Gaul is so cold a climate that an ass could not live in it.t North of the Cevennes, says Strabo,J: Gaul produces not figs and olives: And the vines, which have been planted, bear not grapes, that will ripen. Ovid positively maintains, with all the serious affirmation of prose, that the Euxine sea was frozen over every winter in his time; and he appeals to Roman governors, whom he names, for the truth of his assertion||. This seldom or never happens • Lib. iv. fDe generat.'anim. lib. ii. *Lib. iv. IITrist, lib. iii. eleg. 9. De Ponto, lib. iv. eleg. 7, 9,10. ;« "i POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 451 at present in the latitude of TOmi, whither Ovid was banished. All the complaints of the same poet seem to mark a rigour of the seasons, which is scarcely experienced at present in Pe- TERSBURGH Or STOCKHOLM. Tournefort, a Provencal, who had travelled into the same country, observes, that there is not a finer climate in the world: And he asserts, that nothing but Ovid's melancholy could "have given him such dismal ideas of it. But the facts, mentioned by that poet, are too circumstantial to bear any such interpretation. Polybius* says, that the climate in Arcadia was very cold, and the air moist. " Italy," says VARRef, " is the most temperate climate in ISurope. The inland parts" (Gaul, Germany, and Pannonia, ho doubt) " have almost perpetual winter." The northern parts of Spain, according to StraboJ, are but ill inhabited, because of the great cold. Allowing, therefore, this remark to be just, that Europe is become warmer than formerly; how can we account for it? Plainly, by no other method, than by supposing, that the land is at present much better cultivated, and that the woods are cleared, which formerly threw a shade upon the earth, and kept the rays of the sun from penetrating to it. Our northern colonies in America become more temperate, in proportion as the woods are felled§; but in general, every one may remark, that cold is •Lib. iv. cap. 21. fLib. i. cap. 2. }Lib. iii; §The warm "southern colonies also become more healthful: And it is remarkable, that in the Spanish histories of the first discovery and con- quest of these countries/they appear to have been very healthful; being then well peopled and cultivated. No account of the sickness or decay of Cobtes's or Pizabbo's small armies. 452 ESSAY XI. Still inuch more severely felt, both in North and South Ame> rica, than in places under the same latitude in Europe. Saserna, quoted by Columella*, affirmed, that the disposi- tion of the heavens was altered before his time, and that the air had become much milder and warmer; as appears hence, says he, that many places now abound with vineyards and olive plan- tations, which formerly, by reason of the rigour of the climate, could raise none of these productions. Such a change, if real, will be allowed an evident sign of the better cultivation and peo- pling of countries before the age of Saserna! ; and if it be con- tinued to the present times, is a proof, that these advantages have been continually encreasing throughout this part of the ■world. Let us now cast our eye over all the countries which are the Bcene of ancient and modern history, and compare their past and present situation: We shall not, perhaps, find such foundation for the complaint of the present emptiness and desolation of the world. ^Sgypt is represented by Maillet, to whom we owe the best account of it, as extremely populous; though he esteems the number of its inhabitants to be diminished. Syria, and the Lesser Asia, as well as the coast of Barbary, I can readily own, te be desart in comparison of their ancient condition. The depopulation of Greece is also obvious. But whether the country now called Turky in Europe may not, in general, eontain more inhabitants than during the flourishing period of Greece, maybe a little doubtful. The Thracians seem then to have lived like the Tartars at present,by pasturage and plun- derj: The Getes were still more uncivilized||: And the Illy- rians were no better§. These occupy nine-tenths of that coun- "Lib. i. eap. 1. |He seems to have lived about the time of the younger Aibicanus ; lib- i. cap. 1. i Xenoph. Exp. lib. vii. Polyb. lib. iv. cap. 45. | Ovid, passim, &f«. Strabo, lib. vii. $ Pojyb. lib. ii. C*p. }2. populousness of ancient nations. 455 try: And though the government of the Turks be not very fa- vourable to industry and propagation ; yet it preserves at least peace and order among the inhabitants; and is preferable to that barbarous, unsettled condition, in which they anciently lived. Poland and Muscovy in Europe are not populous; but are certainly much more so than the ancient Sarmatia and Scy- thia ; where no husbandry or tillage was ever heard of, and pasturage was the sole art by which the people were maintain- ed. The like observation may be extended to Denmark and Sweden. No one ought to esteem the immense swarms of peo- ple, which formerly came from the North, and over-ran all Eu- rope, to be any objection to this opinion. Where a whole na- tion, or even half of it remove their seat; it is easy to imagine, what a prodigious multitude they must form; with what despe- rate valour they must make their attacks; and how the terror they strike into the invaded na'tions will make these magnify, in their imagination, both the courage and multitude of the in- vaders. Scotland is neither extensive nor populous; but were the half of its inhabitants to seek new seats, they would form a colony as numerous as the Tuetons and Cimbri ; and would shake all Europe, supposing it in no better condition for defence than formerly, Germany has surely at present twenty times more inhabi- tants than in ancient times, when they cultivated no ground, and each tribe valued itself on the extensive desolation which it spread around; as we learn from Cesar*, and TAciTUst, and and StraboJ. A proof, that the division into small republics will not alone render a nation populous, unless attended with the spirit of peace, order, and industry. The barbarous condition of Britain in former times is well known, and the thinness of its inhabitants may easily be conjec- ' De Bella Gallico, lib. vi. f -°e Moribv* Germ. \ Lib. vii. 454 ESSAY XI. tured, both from their barbarity, and from a circumstance men- tioned by Herodian*, that all Britain was marshy, even in Severus's time, after the Romans had been fully settled in it above a century. It is not easily imagined, that the Gauls were anciently much more advanced in the arts of life than their northern neighbours ; since they travelled to this island for their educa- tion in the mysteries of the religion and philosophy of the Druids|. I cannot, therefore, think, that Gaul was then near so populous as France is at present. Were we to believe, indeed, and join together the testimony of Appian, and that of Diodorvs Siculus, we must admit of an incredible populousness in Gaul. The former historian \ says, that there were 400 nations in that country ; the latter§ affirms, that the largest of the Gallic nations consisted of 200,000 men, besides women and children, and the least of 50,000. Calculating, therefore, at a medium, we must admit of near 200 millions of people, in a country, which we esteem po- pulous at present, though supposed to contain little more than twenty.|| Such calculations, therefore, by their extravagance, lose all manner of authority. We may observe, that the equa- lity of property, to which the populousness of antiquity may be ascribed, had no place among the Gauls.f Their intestine wars also, before Cesar's time, were almost perpetual..|. And Strabo** observes, that, though all Gaul was cultivated, yet *Lib- iii. cap. 47. j Cjbsab de Bello Gallico, lib. xvi. Strabo, lib. vii. says the Gauls were not much more improved than the Germans. % Celt, pars 1. % Lib. v. A ncient Gaul was more extensive than modern Fbancs. 1 Cjesab de Bello Gallico, lib. vi- -j- Id. ibid. *• Lib. iv. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 455 was it not cultivated with any skill or care ; the genius of the inhabitants leading them less to arts than arms, till their slavery under Rome produced peace among themselves. CiESAR* enumerates very particularly the great forces which were levied in Belgium to oppose his conquests ; and makes them amount to 208,000. These were hot the whole people able to bear arms : For the same historian tells us, that the Bello- vaci could have brought a hundred thousand men into the field, though they engaged only for sixty. Taking the whole, there- fore, in this proportion of ten to six, the sum of fighting men in all the states of Belgium was about 350,000; all the inhabi- tants a million and a half. And Belgium being about a fourth of Gaul, that country might contain six millions, which is not near the third of its present inhabitants.! We are informed by C^sar, that the Gauls had no fixed property in land ; but that the chieftains, when any death happened in a family, made a new division of all the lands among the several members of the family. This is the custom of Tanistry, which so long prevail- ed in Ireland, and which retained that country in a state of misery, barbarism, and desolation. The ancient Helvetia was 250 miles in length, and 180 in breadth, according to the same author ;f yet contained only 360,000 inhabitants. The canton of Berne alone has, at pre- sent, as many people. After this computation of Appian and Diodorus Siculus, I know not, whether I dare affirm, that the modern Dutch are more numerous than the ancient Batavi. Spain is, perhaps, decayed from what it was three centuries ago; but if we step backward twe thousand years, and consider * De Bello Gallico, lib. ii. t See note [PP.] ? De Bello Gallico, lib. i. 456 ESSAY XI. the restless, turbulent, unsettled condition of its inhabitants, we may probably be inclined to think, that it is now much more po- pulous. Many Spaniards killed themselves, when deprived of their arms by the Romans*. It appears from PlvtarchI, that robbery and plunder were esteemed honourable among the Spaniards. HirtiusJ represents in the same light the situa- tion of that country in Cesar's time; and he says, that every man was obliged to live in castles and walled towns for his secu rity. It was not till its final conquest under Augustus, that these disorders were repressed||. The account which Strabo§, and JustinT give of Spain corresponds exactly with those above mentioned. How much, therefore, must it diminish from our idea of the populousness of antiquity, when we find, that Tull y. comparing Italy, Afric, Gaul, Greece, and Spain, men- tions the great number of inhabitants, as the peculiar circum- stance, which rendered this latter country formidable^ ? Italy, however, it is probable, has decayed : But how many great cities does it still contain ? Venice, Genoa, Pavia, Tu- rin, Milan, Naples, Florence, Leghorn, which either sub sisted not in ancient times, or were then very inconsiderable ? If we reflect on this, we shall not be apt to carry matters to s« great an extreme as is usual, with regard to this subject. When the Roman authors complain, that Italy, Jwhich for- merly exported corn, became dependent on all the provinces for * Titi livii, lib. xxxiv. cap. 17 f In vita Marii. f De Bello Bisp. \\Vcll. Paterc. lib. ii. § 90. § Lib. iii. 1 Lib xliv. 4 " Nee numero Hispanos, nee robore Gallos, nee calliditate Pcenos, " nee artibus Grxcos, nee denique hoc ipso hujus gentis, ac terrx domes- " tico nativoque sensu. Italos ipsos ac Latinos----superavimua." De harusp. reap. cap. 9. The disorders of Spain seem to have been almost proverbial: ° Nee impacatos a tergo horrebis Iberos," Virg. Georg. lib. iii. The Ibebi are here plainly taken, by a poetical figure, for robbers in general. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 457 its daily bread, they never ascribe this alteration to the encrease of its inhabitants, but to the neglect of tillage and agriculture*. A natural effect of that pernicious practice of importing corn, in order to distribute it gratis among the Roman citizens, and a very bad means of multiplying the inhabitants of any country f. The sportula, so much talked of by Martial and Juvenal, be- ing presents regularly made by the great lords to their smaller clients, must have had a like tendency to produce idleness, de- bauchery, and a continual decay among the people. The parish- rates have at present the same4>ad consequences in England. Were I to assign a period, when I imagine this part of the world might possibly contain more inhabitants than at present, I should pitch upon the age of Trajan and the Antonines; the great extent of the Roman empire being then civilized and cul- tivated, settled almost in a profound peace both foreign and do- mestic, and living under the same regular police and govern- mentj. But we are told, that all extensive governments, espe- cially absolute monarchies, are pernicious to population, and contain a secret vice and poison, whieh destroy the effect of all these promising appearances§. To confirm this, there is a pas- sage cited from Pl«jtarch|(, which being somewhat singular, we shall,here examine it. That author, endeavouring to account for the silence of many of the oracles, says, that it may be ascribed to the present de- • Vahiio de re rustica, lib. ii. prscf. Columella prsef. Sueton. August. cap. 42. t Though the observation of L'Abbe du Bos should be admitted, that Italy is now warmer than in former times, the consequence may not be necessary, that it is more populous or better cultivated. If the other coun- tries of Eubope were more savage and woody, the cold winds that blew from them, might affect the climate of Italy. $ See note [QQ]. $ UEsprit de Loix, lib. xxiii. chap. 19. |l De Orac. Defectum. L2 458 ESSAY XI. solation of the world, proceeding from former wars and fac- tions; which common calamity, he adds, has fallen heavier upon Greece, than on any other country; insomuch, that the whole could scarcely at present furnish three thousand warriors; a number which, in the time of the Median war, were supplied by the single city of Megara. The gods, therefore, who affect works of dignity and importance, have suppressed many of their oracles, and deign not to use so many interpreters of their will to so diminutive a people. I must confess, that this passage contains so many difficul- ties, that I know not what to make of it. You may observe, that Plutarch assigns, for a cause of the decay of mankind, not the extensive dominion of the Romans, but the former wars and factions of the several states; all which were quieted by the Roman arms. Plutarch's reasoning, therefore, is directly contrary to the inference, which is drawn from the fact he ad- vances. Polybius supposes, that Greece had become more prosper- ous and flourishing after the establishment of the Roman yoke*; and though that historian wrote before these conquerors had de- generated, from being the patrons, to be the plunderers of man- kind ; yet as we find from TAoiTUSf, that the severity of the emperors afterwards corrected the licence of the governors, we have no reason to think that extensive monarchy so destructive as it is often represented. We learn from StraboJ, that the Romans, from their regard to the Greeks, maintained, to his time, most of the privileges and liberties of that celebrated nation; and Nero afterwards rather encreased them||. How therefore can we imagine, that *See note [RR]. \Annal. lib. i. cap. 2. $Lib. viii. and ix. (Plutarch. De his qui tero a JYumine puniunlur. POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 459 the Roman yoke was so burdensome over that part of tlie world ? The oppression of the proconsuls was checked ; and the magis- tracies in Greece being all bestowed, in the several cities, by the free votes of the people, there was no necessity for the com- petitors to attend the emperor's court. If great numbers went to seek their fortunes in Rome, and advance themselves by learning or eloquence, the commodities of their native country, many of them would return with the fortunes which they had acquired, and thereby enrich the Grecian commonwealths. But Plutarch says, that the general depopulation had been more sensibly felt in Greece than in any other country. How is this reconcileable to its superior privileges and advantages ? Besides, this passage, by proving tqo much, really proves nothing. Only three thousand men able to bear arms in all Greece ! Who can admit so strange a proposition, especially if we consider the great number of Greek cities, whose names still remain in history, and which are mentioned by writers long after the age of Plutarch ? There are there surely ten times more people at present, when there scarcely remains a city in all the bounds of ancient Greece. That country is still tole- rably cultivated, and furnishes a sure supply of corn, in case of any scarcity in Spain, Italy, or the south of France. We may observe, that the ancient frugality of the Greeks, and their equality of property, still subsisted during the age of Plutarch ; as appears from Lucian*. Nor is there any ground to imagine, that that country was possessed by a few masters, and a great number of slaves. It is probable, indeed, that military discipline, being entirely useless, was extremely neglected in Greece after the establish- ment of the Roman empire ; and if these commonwealths, for- merly so warlike and ambitious, maintained each of them a *De mercede conductis. 460 ESSAY XI. small city-guard, to prevent mobbish disorders, it is all they had occasion for: And these, perhaps, did not amount to 3000 men, throughout all Greece. I own, that, if Plutarch had this fact in his eye, he is here guilty of a gross paralogism, and assigns causes no wise proportioned to the effects. But is it so great a prodigy, that an author should fall into a mistake of this na- ture* ? But whatever force may remain in this passage of Plutarch, we shall endeavour to counterbalance it by as remarkable a pas- sage in Diodorus Siculus, where the historian, after mention- ing Ninus's army of 1,700,000 foot and 200,000 horse, endea- vours to support the credibility of this account by some poste- rior facts; and adds, that we must not form a notion of the an- cient populousness of mankind from the present emptiness and depopulation which is spread over the worldf. Thus an author, who lived at that very period of antiquity which is represented as most populous}, complains of the desolation which then pre- vailed, gives the preference to former times, and has recourse to ancient fables as a foundation for his opinion. The humour of blaming the present, and admiring the past, is strongly rooted in human nature, and has an influence even on persons endued with the profoundest judgment and most extensive learning. ♦See note [SSJ. fLib. ii. $He was co'temporary with Cjesar and Augustus ESSAY XII. OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. AS no party, in the present age, can well support itself, with- out a philosophical or speculative system of principles, annex- ed to its political or practical one, we accordingly find, that each of the factions, into which this nation is divided, has reared up a fabric of the former kind, in order to protect and cover that scheme of actions, which it pursues. The people being com- monly very rude builders, especially in this speculative way, and more especially still, when actuated by party-zeal ; it is natural to imagine, that their workmanship, must be a little un- shapely, and discover evident marks of that violence and hurry, in which it raised. The one party, by tracing up government to the Deity, endeavour to render it so sacred and inviolate, that it must be little less than sacrilege, however tyrannical it may become, to touch or invade it, in the smallest article. The other party, by founding government altogether on the consent of the People, suppose that there is a kind of original contract, by which the subjects have tacitly reserved the power of resist- ing their sovereign, whenever they find themselves aggrieved by that authority, with which they have, for certain purposes, voluntarily entrusted him. These are the speculative princi- ples of the two parties ; and these too are the practical conse- quences deduced from them. I shall venture to affirm, That both these systems of specula- tive principles are just ; though not in the sense, intended by the parties: And, That both the schemes of practical conse- quences are prudent; though not in the extremes, to which 462 EM-AY XII. each party, in opposition to the other, has commovly endeavour- ed to carry them. That the Deity is the ultimate author of all government, will never be denied by any, who admit a general providence, and allow, that all events in the universe are conducted by an uniform plan, and directed to wise purposes. As it is impos- sible for the human race to subsist, at least in any comfortable or secure state, without the protection of government; this in- stitution must certainly have been intended by that beneficent Being, who means the good of all his creatures : And as it has universally, in fact, taken place, in all countries, and all ages ; we may conclude, with still greater certainty, that it was in- tended by that omniscient Being, who can never be deceived by any event or operation. But since he gave rise to it, not by any particular or miraculous interposition, but by his conceal- ed and universal efficacy; a sovereign cannot, properly speak- ing, be called his yice-gerent, in any other sense than every power or force, being derived from him, may be said to act by his commission. Whatever actually happens is comprehended in the general plan or intention of providence ; nor has the greatest and most lawful prince any more reason, upon that ac- count, to plead a peculiar sacred ness or inviolable authority, than an inferior magistrate, or even an. usurper, or even a rob- ber and a pirate. The same divine superintendant, who, for wise purposes, invested a Titus or a Trajan with authority, did also, for purposes, no doubt, equally wise, though unknown, bestow power on a Borgia or an Angria. The same causes, which gave rise to the sovereign power in every state, establish- ed likewise every petty jurisdiction in it, and every limited authority. A constable, therefore, no less than a king, acts by a divine commission, and possesses an indefeasible right. When we consider how nearly equal all men are in their bodily force, and even in their mental powers and faculties, till culti- vated by education; we must necessarily allow, that nothing OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 463 but their own consent could, at first, associate them together, and subject them to any authority. The people, if we trace government to its first origin in the woods and desarts, are the source of all power and jurisdiction, and voluntarily, for the sake of peace and order, abandoned their native liberty, and received laws from their equal and companion. The conditions, upon which they were willing to submit, were either expressed, or were so clear and obvious, that it might well be esteemed superfluous to express them. If this, then, be meant by the original contract, it cannot be denied, that all government is, at first, founded on a contract, and that the most ancient rude combinations of mankind were formed chiefly by that principle. In vain, are we asked in what records this charter of our liber- ties is registered. It was not written on parchment, nor yet on leaves or barks of trees. It preceded the use of writing and all the other civilized arts of life. But we trace it plainly in the nature of man, and in the equality, or something approaching equality, which we find in all the individuals of that species. The force, which now prevails, and which is founded on fleets and armies, is plainly political and derived from authority, the effect of established government. A man's natural force con- sists only in the vigour of his limbs, and the firmness of his courage; which could never subject multitudes to the com- mand of one. Nothing but their own consent, and their sense of the advantages resulting from peace and order, could have had that influence. Yet even this consent was long very imperfect, and could not be the basis of a regular administration. The chieftain, who had probably acquired his influence during the continuance of war, ruled more by persuasion than command ; and till he could employ force to reduce the refractory and disobedient, the so- ciety could scarcely be said to haye attained a state of civil go- vernment. No compact or agreement, it is evident, was ex- pressly formed for general submission; an idea far beyond the comprehension of savages: Each exertion of authority in the 464 ESSAY XII. chieftain must have been particular, and called forth by the pre- sent exigencies of the case: The sensible utility, resulting from his interposition, made these exertions become daily more fre- quent; and their frequency gradually produced an habitual, and, if you please to call it so, a voluntary, and therefore pre- carious, acquiescence in the people. But philosophers, who have embraced a party (if that be not a contradiction in terms) are not contented with these conces- sions. They assert, not only that government in its earliest infancy arose from consent or rather the voluntary acquiescence of the people ; but also, that, even at present, when it has at- tained its full maturity, it rests on no other foundation. They affirm, that all men are still born equal, and owe allegiance to no prince or government, unless bound by the obligation and sanction of a promise. And as no man, without some equiva- lent, would forego the advantages of his-native liberty, and sub- ject himself to the will of another ; this promise is always un- derstood to be conditional, and imposes on him no obligation. unless he meet with justice and protection from his sovereign. These advantages the sovereign promises him in return ; and if he fail in the execution, he has broken, on his part, the articles of engagement, and has thereby freed his subject from all obli- gations to allegiance. Such, according to these philosophers, is the foundation of authority in every government; and such the right of resistance, possessed by every subject. But would these reasoners look abroad into the world, they would meet with nothing that, in the least, corresponds to their ideas, or can warrant so refined and philosophical a system. On the contrary,. we find, every where, princes, who claim their subjects as their property, and assert their independent right of sovereignty, from conquest or succession. We find also, every where, subjects, who acknowledge this right in their prince, and suppose themselves born under obligations of obedi- ence to a certain sovereign, as much as under the ties of rever- OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 4& ence and duty to certain parents. These connexions are always conceived to be equally independent of our consent, in Persia and China ; in France and Spain ; and even in Holland and England, wherever the doctrines above-mentioned have not been carefully inculcated. Obedience or subjection be- comes so familiar, that most men never make any enquiry about its origin or cause, more than about the principle of gravity, re- sistance, or the most universal laws of nature. Or if curiosity ever move them; as soon as they learn, that they themselves and their ancestors have, for several ages, or from time imme- morial, been subject to such a form of government or such a family ; they immediately acquiesce, and acknowledge their obligation to allegiance. Were you to preach, in most parts of the world, that political connexions are founded altogether on voluntary consent or a mutual promise, the magistrate would soon imprison you, as seditious, for loosening the ties of obe- dience ; if your friends did not before shut you up as delirious, for advancing such absurdities. It is strange, that an act of the mind, which every individual is supposed to have formed, and after he came to the use of reason too, otherwise it could have no authority ; that this act, I say, should be so much un- known to all of them, that, over the face of the whole earth, there scarcely remain any traces or memory of it. But the contract, on which government is founded, is said t<> be the original contract; and consequently may be supposed too old to fall under the knowledge of the present generation. If the agreement, by which savage men first associated and con- joined their force, be here meant, this is acknovledged to be real ; but being so ancient, and being obliterated by a thousand changes of government and princes, it cannot now be supposed to retain any authority. If we would sar any thing to the pur- pose, we must assert, that every particular government, which is lawful, and which imposes any duty of allegiance on the subject, was at first, founded on consent and a voluntary compact. But be- " sides that this supposes me consent pf the fathers to bind the chil- MS 466 ESSAY XII. dren, even to the most remote generations, (which republican writers will never allow) besides this, I say, it is not justified by history or experience, in any age or country of the world. Almost all the governments, which exist at present, or of which there remains any record in story, have .been founded originally, either on usurpation or conquest, or both, without any pretence of a fair consent, or voluntary subjection of the people. When an artful and bold man is placed at the head of an army or faction, it is often easy for him, by em- ploying, sometimes violence, sometimes false pretences, to establish his dominion over a people a hundred times more numerous than his partizans. He allows no such open communication, that his enemies can know, with certainty, their number ox force. He gives them no leisure to as- semble together in a body to oppose him. Even all those who are the instruments of his usurpation, may wish his fall; but their ignorance of each other's intention keeps them in awe[ and is the sole cause of his security. By such arts as these! many governments have been established; and this is all the ori- ginal contract, which they have to boast of. The face of the earth is continually changing, by the encrease of small kingdoms into great empires, by the dissolution of great empires into smaller kingdoms, by the planting of colo met, by the migration of tribes. Is there any thing discovera- ble nndl these events, but force and violence? Where is the mutual agreement or voluntary association so much talked of? Even the n^fcert way, by which a ^ ^.^ reign master, by i^ or a win? ig ^ ex ble for the people; b* supposes them to be , J dowry or a legacy, accor%gto the pleasure Qr > OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 467 But where no force interposes, and election takes place; what is this election so highly vaunted ? It is either the combination of a few great men, who decide for the whole, and will allow of no opposition : Or it is the fury of a multitude, that follow a se- ditious ringleader, who is not known, perhaps to a dozen among them, and who owes his advancement merely to his own impu- dence, or to the momentary caprice of his fellows. Are these disorderly elections, which are rare too, of such mighty authority, as to be the only lawful foundation of all go- vernment and allegiance ? In reality, there is not a more terrible event, than a total dis- solution of government, which gives liberty to the multitude, and makes the determination or choice of a new establishment depend upon a number, which nearly approaches to that of the body of the people: For it never comes entirely to the whole body of them. Every wise man, then, wishes to see, at the head of a powerful and obedient army, a general, who may speedily seize the prize, and give to the people a master, which they are so unfit to chuse for themselves. So little correspondent is fact and reality to those philosophical notions. Let not the establishment at the Revolution deceive us, or make us so much in love with a philosophical origin to govern* ment, as to imagine all others monstrous and irregular. Even that event was far from corresponding to these refined idea?. It was only the succession, and that only in the regal part of the government, which was then changed : And it was only che ma- jority of seven hundred, who determined that change for near ten millions. I doubt not, indeed, but the bulk of those ten mil- lions acquiesced willingly in the determination: But was the matter left, in the least, to their choice ? Was it not justly sup- posed to be, from that moment, decided, and every man pun- ished, who refused to submit to the new sovereign ? How other- wise could the matter have ever been bright to any issue or conclusion ? 468 ESSAY XII. The republic of Athens was, I believe, thfe most extensive democracy, that we read of in history : Yet if we make the re- quisite allowances for the women, the slaves, and the strangers, we shall find, that that establishment was not, at first, made, nor any law ever voted, by a tenth part of those Vvho were bound to pay obedience to it: Not to mention the islands and foreign dominions, which the Athenians claimed as theirs by right of conquest. And it is well known, that popular assemblies in that city were always full of licence and disorder, notwithstanding the institutions and laws by which they were checked: How much more disorderly must they provte, where they form not the established constitution, but meet tumultuously on the dissolu- tion of the ancient government, in order to give rise to a new one ? How chimerical must it be to talk of a choice in such cir- cumstances ? The AchJeans enjoyed the freest and most perfect democra- cy of all antiquity; yet they employed force to oblige some ci- ties to enter into their league, as we learn from Polybius*. Harry the IVth and Harry the Vllth of England, had re- ally no title to the throne but a parliamentary election ■; yet they never would acknowledge it, lest they should thereby weak- en their authority. Strange, if the only real foundation of all authority be consent and promise ! It is in Vain to say, that all governments are or should be, at first, founded on popular consent, as much as the necessity of human affairs will admit. This favours entirely my pretension. I maintain, that human affairs will never admit of this consent; seldom of he appearance of it. But that conquest or usurpation that is, in ph*n terms, force, by dissolving the ancient govern- ments, is the origin of almost all the new ones, which were ever established in tht world. And that in the few tysea, where con- * lib. ii. cap. 38. OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRAGT. 469 sent may seem to have taken place, it was commonly so irregu- lar, so confined, or so much intermixed either with fraud or vio- lence, that it cannot have any great authority. My intention here is not to exclude the consent of the peo- ple from being, one just foundation of government where it has place. It is surely the best and most sacred of any. I only pre- tend, that it has very seldom had place in any degree, and never almost in its full extent. And that therefore some other foun- dation of government must also be admitted. Were all men possessed of so inflexible a regard to justice, that, of themselves, they would totally abstain from the proper- ties of others; they had for ever remained in a state of absolute liberty, without subjection to any magistrate or political society : But this is a state of perfection, of which human nature is just- ly deemed incapable. Again; were are all men possessed of so perfect an understanding, as always to know their own interests, no form of government had ever been submitted to, but what was established on consent, and was fully canvassed by every mem- ber of the society: But this state of perfection, is likewise much superior to human nature. Reason, history, and expe- rience shew us, that all political societies have had an origin muchless accurate and regular; and were one t© choose aperiod of time, when the people's consent was the least regarded in public transactions, it would be precisely on the establishment of a new government. In a settled constitution, their inclina- tions are often consulted; but during the fury of revolutions, conquests, and public convulsions, military force or political craft usually decides the controversy. When a new government is established, by wbatew means, the people are commonly dissatisfied with it, and pay obedience more from fear and necessity, than from any idea of allegiance or of moral obligation. The prince is watchful Hid jealous, and murt caFetully .guard against every beginning 4:o ESSAY XII. or appearance of insurrection. Time, by degrees, removes all these difficulties, and accustoms the nation to regard, as their lawful or native princes, that family, which, at first, they consi- dered as usurpers or foreign conquerors. In order to found this opinion, they have no recourse to any notion of voluntary con- sent or promise, which, they know, never was, in this case, either expected or demanded. The original establishment was formed by violence, and submitted to from necessity. The sub- sequent administration is also supported by power, and acquies- ced in by the people, not as a matter of choice, but of obligation. They imagine not, that their consent gives their prince a title : But they willingly consent, because they think, that, from long possession, he has acquired a title, independent of their choice or inclination. Should it be said, that, by living under the dominion of a prince, which one might leave, every individual has given a tacit consent to his authority, and promised him obedience; it may be answered, that such an implied consent can only have place, where a man imagines, that the matter depends on his choice. But where he thinks (as all mankind do who are born under established governments) that by his birth he owes allegiance to a certain prince or certain form of government; it would be absurd to infer a consent or choice, which he expressly, in this case, renounces and disclaims. Can we seriously say, that a poor peasant or artizan has a free choice to leave his country, when he knows no foreign lan- guage or manners, and lives from day to day, by the small wages which he acquires ? We may as well assert, that a man, by re- maining in a vessel, freely consents to the dominion of the master; though he was carried on board while asleep, and must leap into the ocean, and perish, the moment he leaves her. What if the prince forbid his subjects to quit his dominions; as in Tiberius's time, it was regarded as a crime in a Roman of the original contract. 471 knight that he had attempted to fly to the Parthians, in order to escape the tyranny of that emperor* ? Or as the ancient Muscovites prohibited all travelling under pain of death ? And did a prince observe, that many of his subjects were seized with the frenzy of migrating to foreign countries, he would doubt- less, with great reason and justice, restrain them, in order to prevent the depopulation of his own kingdom. Would he for- feit the allegiance of all his subjects, by so wise and reasonable a law ? Yet the freedom of their choice is surely, in that case, ravished from them. A company of men, who should leave their native country, in order to people some uninhabited region, might dream of re- covering their native freedom; but they would soon find, that their prince still laid claim to them, and called them his sub- jects, even in their new settlement. And in this he would but act conformably to the common ideas of mankind. The truest tacit consent of this kind, that is ever observed, is when a foreigner settles in any country, and is beforehand ac- quainted with the prince, and government, and laws, to which he must submit: Yet is his allegiance, though more voluntary, much less expected or depended on, than that of a natural born subject. On the contrary, his native prince still asserts a claim to him. And if he punish not the rcuegade, when he seizes him in war with his new prince's commission; this cle- mency is not founded on the municipal law, which in all coun- tries condemns the prisoner; but on the consent of princes, who have agreed to this indulgence, in order to prevent reprisals. Did one generation of men go off the stage at once, and ano- ther succeed, as is the case with silk-worms and butter-flies, the new race, if they had sense enough to choose their govern- ment, which surely is never the case with men, might volunta- rily, and by general consent, establish their own form of civil •Tacit. Ann. vi. cap. 14. 472, ESSAY XII. policy, without any regard to the laws op precedents, which prevailed among their ancestors. But as human society is in perpetual flux, one man every hour going out of the world, an- other coming into it, it is necessary, in order to preserve stabi- lity in government, that the new brood should conform them- selves to the established constitution, and nearly follow the path which their fathers, treading in the footsteps of theirs, had marked out to them. Some innovations must necessarily have place in every human institution, and it is happy where the enlightened genius of the age give these a direction to the side of reason, liberty, and justice : but violent innovations no individual is entitled to make: they are even dangerous to be attempted by the legislature : more ill than good is ever to be expected from them : and if history affords examples to the contrary, they are not to be drawn into precedent, and are only to be regarded as proofs, that the science of politics affords few rules, which will not admit of some exception, and which may not sometimes be controuled by fortune and accident. The violent innovations in the reign of Henry VIII. proceeded from an imperious monarch, seconded by the appearance of legislative autliority : Those in the reign of Charles I. were derived from faction and fanaticism; and both of them have proved happy in the issue : But even the former were long the source of many disorders, and still more dangers; and if the measures of allegiance were to be taken from the latter, a total anarchy must have place in human society, and a final period at once be put to every government. Suppose, that an usurper, after having banished his lawful prince and royal family, should establish his dominion for ten or a dozen years in any country, and should preserve so exact a discipline in his troops, and so regular a disposition in his gar- risons, that no insurrection had ever been raised, or even mur- mur heard, against his administration: Can it be asserted, that the people, who in their hearts abhor his treason, have tackly consented to his authority, and promised him allegiance, merely OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 473 because, from necessity, they live under his dominion ? Sup- pose again their native prince restored, by means of an army, whieh he levies in foreign countries : They receive him with joy and exultation, and shew plainly with what reluctance they had submitted to any other yoke. I may now ask, upon what foundation the prince's title stands ? Not on popular consent surely : For though the people willingly acquiesce in his au- thwity, they never imagine, that their consent made him sove- reign. They consent; because they apprehend him to be al- ready, by birth, their lawful sovereign. And as to that tacit consent, which may now be inferred from their living under his dominion, this is no more than what they formerly gave to the tyrant and usurper. When we assert, that all lawful government arises from the consent of the people, we certainly do them a great deal more honour than they deserve, or even expect and desire from us. After the Roman dominions became too unwieldy for the repub- lic to govern them, tlie people, over the whole known world, were extremely grateful to Augustus for that authority, which, by violence, he had established over them; and they shewed an equal disposition to submit to the successor, whom he left them, by his last will and testament. It was afterwards their misfor- tune, that there never was, in one family, any long regular suc- cession; but that their line of princes was continually broken, either by private assassinations or public rebellions. The prae- torian bands, on the failure of every family, set up one emperor; the legions in the East a second ; those in Germany, perhaps, a third: And the sword alone could decide the controversy. The condition of the people, in that mighty monarchy, was to be lamented, not because the choice of the emperor was never left to them; for that was impracticable: But because they never fell under any succession of masters, who might regularly follow each other. As to the violence and wars and bloodshed, occasioned by every new settlement; these were not blama^ ble, because they were inevitable. N 3 474 ESSAY XII. The house of Lancaster ruled in this island about sixty years ; yet the partizans of the white rose seemed daily to mul- tiply in England. The present establishment has taken place during a still longer period. Have all views of right in another family been utterly extinguished; even though scarce any man now alive had arrived at years of discretion, when it was expell- ed, or could have consented to its dominion, or have promised it allegiance ? A sufficient indication surely of the general sen- timent of mankind on this head. For we blame not the parti- zans of the abdicated family, merely on account of the long time, during which they have preserved their imaginary loyalty. We blame them for adhering to a family j which, we affirm, has been justly expelled, and which, from the moment the new set- tlement took place, had forfeited all title to authority. But would we have a more regular, at least a more philoso- phical, refutation of this principle of an original contract or po- pular consent; perhaps, the following observations may suffice. All moral duties may be divided into two kinds. The first are those, to which men are impelled by a natural instinct or immediate propensity, which operates on them, independent of all ideas of obligation, and of all views, either to public or pri- vate utility. Of this nature are, love of children, gratitude to benefactors, pity to the unfortunate. When we reflect on the advantage, which results to society from such humane instincts, we pay them the just tribute of moral approbation and esteem : But the person, actuated by them, feels their power and influ- ence, antecedent to any such reflection. The second kind of moral duties are such as are not support- ed by any original instinct of nature, but are performed entirely from a sense of obligation, when we consider the necessities of human society, and the impossibility of supporting it, if these duties were neglected. It is thu6 justice or a regard to the pro- perty of others, fidelity or the observance of promises, become OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 475 obligatory, and acquire an authority over mankind. For as it is evident, that every man loves himself better than any other per- son, he is naturally impelled to extend his acquisitions as much as possible ; and nothing can restrain him in this propensity, but reflection and experience, by which he learns the pernicious effects of that licence, and the total dissolution of society which must ensue from it. His original inclination, therefore, or in- stinct, is here checked and restrained by a subsequent judg- ment or observation. The case is precisely the same with the political or civil duty of allegiance, as with the natural duties of justice and fidelity. Our primary instincts lead us, either to indulge ourselves in un- limited freedom, or to seek dominion over others: And it is re- flection only, which engages us to sacrifice such strong passions to the interests of peace and public order. A. small degree of experience and observation suffices to teach us, that society can- not possibly be maintained without the authority of magistrates, and that this authority must soon fall into contempt, where ex- act obedience is not jiayed to it. The observation of these gene- ral and obvious interests is the source of all allegiance, and of that moral obligation, which we attribute to it. What necessity, therefore, is there to found the duty of alle- giance or obedience to magistrates on that of fidelity or a regard to promises, and to suppose, that it is the consent of each indi- vidual, which subjects him to government; when it appears, that both allegiance and fidelity stand precisely on the same founda- tion, and are both submitted to by mankind, on account of the apparent interests and necessities of human society ? We are bound to obey our sovereign, it is said ; because we have given a tacit promise to that purpose. But why are we bound to ob- serve our promise ? It must here be asserted, that the commerce and intercourse of mankind, which are of such mighty advan- tage, can have no security where men pay no regard to their en- gagements. In like manner, may it be said, that men could not < 476 ESSAY XII. live at all in society, at least in a civilized society, without laws and magistrates and judges, to prevent the encroachments of the strong upon the weak, of the violent upon the just and equita- ble. The obligation to allegiance being of like force and autho- rity with the obligation to fidelity, we gain nothing by resolving the one into the other. The general interests or necessities of society are sufficient to establish both. If the reason be asked of that obedience, which we are bound to pay to government, I readily answer, because society could not otherwise subsist: And this answer is clear and intelligible to all mankind. Your answer is, because we should keep our word. But besides, that no body, till trained in a philoso- phical system, can either comprehend or relish this answer : Be- sides this, I say, you find yourself embarrassed, when it is asked, why we are bound to keep our word? Nor can you'give any an- swer, but what would, immediately, without any circuit, have accounted for our obligation to allegiance. But to whom is allegiance due ? And who is our lawful sove- reign ? Thfs question is often the most difficult of any, and li- able to infinite discussions. When people are so happy, that they can answer, Our present sovereign, who inherits, in a di- rect line, from ancestors, that have governed us for many ages ; this answer admits of no reply; even though historians, in trac- ing up to the remotest antiquity, the origin of that royal fami- ly, may find, as commonly happens, that its first authority was derived from usurpation and violence. It is confessed, that private justice, or the abstinence from the properties of others, is a most cardinal virtue : Yet reason tells us, that there is no property in durable objects, such as lands or houses, wJlen carefully examined in passing from hand to hand, but must, in some period, have been founded on fraud and injustice. The necessities of human society, neither in private nor public life, will allow of such an accurate enquiry: And there is no virtue or moral duty, but what may, with facility, be refined away, if we OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 477 "indulge a false philosophy, in sifting and scrutinizing it, by eve- ry captious rule of logic, in every light or position, in which it may be placed. The questions with regard to private property have filled in- finite volumes of law and philosophy, if in both we add the com- mentators to the original text; and in the end, we may safely pronounce, that many of the rules, there established, are uncer- tain, ambiguous, and arbitrary. The like opinion may be form- ed u ith regard to the succession and rights' of princes and forms of government. Several cases, no doubt, occur, especially in the infancy of any constitution, which admit of no determina- tion from the laws of justice and equity: And our historian Rapin pretends, that the controversy between Edward the Third and Philip de Valois was of this nature, and could be decided only by an appeal to heaven, that is, by war and vio- lence. Who shall tell me, whether Germanicus or Duusus ought to have succeeded to Tiberius, had he died, while they were both alive, without naming any of them for his successor? Ought the right of adoption to be received as equivalent to that of blood, in a nation, where it had the same effect in private families, and had already, in two instances, taken place in the public ? Ought Germanicus to be esteemed the elder son because he was born before Drusus; or the younger, because he was adopted after the birth of his brother ? Ought the right of the elder to be re- garded in a nation, where he had no advantage in the succession of private families ? Ought the Roman empire at that time to be deemed hereditary, because of two examples; or ought it, even so early, to be regarded as belonging to the stronger or to the present possessor, as being founded on so recent an usurpa- tion ? Commodus mounted the throne after a pretty long succession of excellent emperors, who had acquired their title*, not by birth* 478 ESSAY XII. or public election, but by the fictitious rite of adoption. That bloody debauchee being murdered by a conspiracy suddenly formed between his wench and her gallant, who happened at that time to be Praetorian Prcefect; these immediately delibe- rated about choosing a master to human kind, to speak in the style of those ages; and they cast their eyes on Pertinax. Before the tyrant's death was known, the Prcefect went secretly to that senator, who, on the appearance of the soldiers, imagin- ed that his execution had been ordered by Commodus. He was immediately saluted emperor by the officer and his attendants; chearfully proclaimed by the populace; unwillingly submitted to by the guards; formally recognized by the senate; and pas sively received by the provinces and armies of the empire. The discontent of the Praetorian bands broke out in a sudden sedition, which occasioned the murder of that excellent prince : And the world being now without a master and without govern- ment, the guards thought proper to set the empire formally to sale. Julian, the purchaser, was proclaimed by the soldiers, re- cognized by the senate, and submitted to by the people j and must also have been submittedto by the provinces, had not the envy of the legions begotten opposition and resistance. Peseenncus Niger in Syria elected himself emperor, gained the tumultuary consent of his army, and was attended with the secret good-will of the senate and people of Rome. Albinus in Britain found an equal right to set up his claim ; but Severus, who governed Pannonia, prevailed in the end above both of them. That able politician and warrior, finding his own birth and dignity too much inferior to the imperial crown, professed, at first, an intention only of revenging the death of Pertinax. He marched as general into Italy; defeated Julian; and without our being able to fix any precise commencement even of the soldiers' consent, he was from necessity acknowledged emperor by the senate and people; and fully established in his violent authority by subduing Niger and Albinus.* * HerodiaWj lib. ii. OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 479 Inter haic Gordianus Cjesar (says Capitolinus, speaking of another period) sublatus a militibus. Imperator est appeUatus, quia non erat alius in presenti. It is to be remarked, that Gor- dian was a boy of fourteen years of age. Frequent instances of a like nature occur in the history of the emperors; in that of Alexander's successors; and of many other countries : Nor can any thing be more unhappy than a despotic government of this kind ; where the succession i» disjointed and irregular, and must be determined, on every vacancy, by force or election. In a free government, the mat- ter is often unavoidable, and is also much less dangerous. The interests of liberty may there frequently lead the people, in their own defence, to alter the succession of tlie crown. And the constitution, being compounded of parts, may still maintain a sufficient stability, by resting on the aristocratical or demo- cratical members, though the monarchical be altered, from time to time, in order to accommodate it to the former. In an absolute government, when there is no le^al prince, who has a title to the throne, it may safely be determined to belong to the first occupant. Inst-mces of this kind are but too frequent, especially in the eastern monarchies. When any race of princes expires, the will or destination of the last sove- reign will be regarded as a title. Thus the edict of Lewis the XIVth, who called the bastard princes to the succession in case of the failure of all the legitimate princes, would, in such an event, have some authority.* Thus the will of Charles the Second disposed of the whole Spanish monarchv. The ces- sion of the ancient proprietor, especially when joined to con- quest, is likewise deemed a good title. The general obligation, which binds us to government, is the interest and necessities of society ; and this obligation is very strong. The determination of it to this or that particular prince or form of government is • See note [TT.} 480 ESSAY XII. frequently more uncertain and dubious. Present posscsMou has considerable authority in these cases, and greater than in private property; because of the disorders which attend all re- volutions and changes of government. We shall only observe, before we conclude, that, though an appeal to general opinion may justly, in the speculative sciences of metaphysics, natural philosophy, or astronomy, be deemed unfair and inconclusive yet in all questions with regard to morals as well as criticism, there is really no other standard, by which any controversy can ever be decided. And nothing is a clearer proof, that a theory of this kind is erroneous, than to find, that it leads to paradoxes, repugnant to the common sentiments of mankind, and to the practice and opinion of all nations and all ages. The doctrine, which founds all lawful government on an original contract or consent of the people, is plainly of this kind ; nor has the most noted of its partizans, in prosecu- tion of it, scrupled to affirm, that absolute monarchy is incon- sistent with civil society, and so can be no form of civil govern- ment at all ,-*and that the supreme power in a state cannot take from any man, by taxes and impositions, any part of his pro- perty, without his own consent or that of his representatives.^ What authority any moral reasoning can have, which leads into opinions so wide of the general practice of mankind, in every place but this single kingdom, it is easy to determine. The only passage I meet with in antiquity, where the obli- gation of obedience to government is ascribed to a promise, is in Plato's Crito: where Socrates refuses to escape from prison, because he had tacitly promised to obey the laws. Thus he builds a tory consequence of passive obedience, on a. whig foundation of the original contract. • See Locke on Government, chap. vii. $ 90. f Id. chap, xl § 138, 139,140. OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 481 New discoveries are not to be expected in these matters. If icarce any man, till very lately, ever imagined that government was founded on compact, it is certain, that it cannot, in general have any such foundation. The crime of rebellion among the ancients was commonly ex- pressed by the term novas res moliri. 0 3 ESSAY XIII. OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. IN the former essay, we endeavoured to refute the specula- tive systems of politics advanced in this nation; as well the religious system of the one party, as the philosophical of the other. We come now to examine the practical consequences, deduced by each party, with regard to the measures of submis- sion due to sovereigns. As the obligation to justice is founded entirely on the inter- ests of society, which require mutual abstinence from property, in order to preserve peace among mankind ; it is evident, that, when the execution of justice would be attended with very per- nicious consequences, that virtue must be suspended, and give place to public utility, in such extraordinary and such pressing emergencies. The maxim, fiat Justitia Sfruat Caelum, let jus- tice be performed, though the universe be destroyed, is appa- rently false, and by sacrificing the end to the means, shews a preposterous idea of the subordination of duties. What go- vernor of a town makes any scruple of burning the suburbs, when they facilitate the approaches of the enemy ? Or what ge- neral abstains from plundering a neutral country, when the ne- cessities of war require it, and he cannot otherwise subsist his army ? The case is the same with the duty of allegiance j and common sense teaches us, that, as government binds us to obe- dience only on account of its tendency to public utility, that duty must always, in extraordinary cases, when public ruin would evidently attend obedience, yield to the primary and ori- ginal obligation. Solus poppli suprema Lex, the safety of the 484 ESSAY XIII. people is the supreme law. This maxim is agreeable to the sentiments of mankind in all ages: Nor is any one, when he reads of the insurrections against Nero or Philip the Second, so infatuated with party systems, as not to wish success to tlie enterprize, and praise the undertakers. Even our high mo- narchical party* in spite of their sublime theory, are forced, in such cases, to judge, and feel, and approve, in conformity to the rest of mankind. Resistance, therefore, being admitted in extraordinary emer- gencies, the question can only be among good reasoners, with regard to the degree of necessity, which can justify resistance, and render it lawful or commendable. And here I must con- fess, that I shall always incline to their side, who draw the bond of allegiance very close, and consider an infringement of it, as the last refuge in desperate cases, when the public is in the highest danger, from violence and tyranny. For besides the mischiefs of a civil war, which commonly attends insurrection; it is certain, that, where a disposition to rebellion appears among any people, it is one chief cause of tyranny in the rulers, and forces them into many violent measures which they never would have embraced, had every one been inclined to submis- sion and obedience. Thus the tyrannicide or assassination, ap- proved of by ancient maxims, instead of keeping tyrants and usurpers in awe, made them ten times more fierce and unre- lenting ; and is now justly, upon that account, abolished by the laws of nations, and universally condemned as a base and treacherous method of bringing to justice these disturbers of society. Besides we must consider, that, as obedience is our duty in the common course of things, it ought chiefly to be inculcated; nor can any thing be more preposterous than an anxious care and solicitude in stating all the cases, in which resistance may be allowed. In like manner, though a philosopher reasonably acknowledges, in the course of an argument, that the rules of OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 485 justice may be dispensed with in cases of urgent necessity; what should we think of a preacher and casuist, who should make it his chief study to find out such cases, and enforce them with all the vehemence of argument and eloquence ? Would he not be better employed in inculcating the general doctrine, than in dis- playing the particular exceptions, which we are, perhaps, but too much inclined, of ourselves, to embrace and to extend ? There are, however, two reasons, which may be pleaded in defence of that party among us, who have, with, so much indus- try, propagated the maxims of resistance; maxims, which, it must be confessed, are, in general, so pernicious, and so destructive of civil society. The first is, that their antagonists carrying the doctrine of obedience to such an extravagant height, as not only never to mention the exceptions in extraordinary cases (which might, perhaps, be excusable) but even positively to ex- clude them; it became necessary to insist on these exceptions, and defend the rights of injured truth and liberty. The second, and, perhaps, better reason, is founded on the nature of the British constitution and form of government. It is almost peculiar to our constitution to establish a first magistrate with such high pre-eminence and dignity, that, though limited by the laws, he is, in a manner, so far as regards his own person above the laws, and can neither be questioned nor punished for any injury or wrong, which may be committed by him. His ministers alone, or those who act by his commission, are obnoxious to justice: and while the prince is thus allured, by the prospect of personal safety, to give the laws their free course, an equal security is, in effect, obtained by the punish- ment of lesser offenders, and at the same time a civil war is avoided, which would be the infallible consequence, were an attack, at every turn, made directly upon the sovereign. But though the constitution pays this salutary compliment to the prince, it can never reasonably be understood, by that maxim, to have determined its own destruction, or to have established a 486 ESSAY XIII. tame submission, where he protects his ministers, perseveres in injustice, and usurps the whole power of the commonwealth. This case, indeed, is never expressly put by the laws; because it is impossible for them, in their ordinary course, to provide a remedy for it, or establish any magistrate, with superior autho- rity, to chastise the exorbitances of the prince. But as a right without a remedy would be an absurdity ; the remedy, in '" this case, is the extraordinary one of resistance, when affairs come to that extremity, that the constitution can be defended by it alone. Resistance therefore must, of course, become more frequent in the British government, than in others, which are simpler, and consist of fewer parts and movements. Where the king is an absolute sovereign, he has little temptation to commit such enormous tyranny as may justly provoke rebellion: But where he is limited, his imprudent ambition, without any great vices, may run him into that perilous situation. This is frequently supposed to have been the case with Charles the First; and if we may now speak truth, after animosities are ceased, this was also the case with James the Second. These were harmless, if not, in their private character, good men; but mistaking the nature of our constitution, and engrossing the whole legislative power, it became necessary to oppose them with some vehemence ; and even to deprive the latter formally of that authority, which he had used with such imprudence and indiscretion. ESSAY XIV. OF THE COALITION OF PARTIES. TO abolish all distinctions of party may not be practicable, perhaps not desirable, in a free government. The only danger- ous parties are such as entertain opposite views with regard to the essentials of government, the succession of the crown, or the more considerable privileges belonging to the several mem- bers of the constitution; where there is no room for any com- promise or accommodation, and where the controversy may ap- pear so momentous as to justify even an opposition by arms to the pretensions of antagonists. Of this nature was the animo- sity, continued for above a century past, between the parties in England ; an animosity which broke out sometimes into civil war, which occasioned violent revolutions, and which con- tinually endangered the peace and tranquillity of the nation. But a3 there have appeared of late the strongest symptoms of an universal desire to abolish these party distinctions; this ten- dency to a coalition affords the most agreeable prospect of fu- ture happiness, and ought to be carefully cherished and promot- ed by every lover of his country. There is not a more effectual method of promoting so good an end, than to prevent all unreasonable insult and triumph of the one party over the other, to encourage moderate opinions, to find the proper medium in all disputes, to persuade each that its antagonist may possibly be sometimes in the right, and to keep a balance in the praise and blame, which we bestow on either side. The two former Essays, concerning the original contract and passive obedience, are calculated for this purpose 488 ESSAY XIV. with regard to the philosophical and practical controversies be- tween the parties, and tend to show that neither side are in these respects so fully supported by reason as they endeavour to flatter themselves. We shall proceed to exercise the same moderation with regard to the historical disputes between the parties, by proving that each of them was justified by plausible topics; that there were on both sides wise men, who meant well to their country; and that the past animosity between the fac- tions had no better foundation than narrow prejudice or inte- rested passion. The popular party, who afterwards acquired the name of whigs, might justify, by very specious arguments, that opposi- tion to the crown, from which our present free constitution is derived. Though obliged to acknowledge, that precedents in favour of prerogative had uniformly taken place during many reigns before Charles the First, they thought, that there was no reason for submitting any longer to so dangerous an autho- rity. Such might have been their reasoning: As the rights of mankind are for ever to be deemed sacred, no prescription of tyranny or arbitrary power can have authority sufficient to abo- lish thein. Liberty is a blessing so inestimable, that, wherever there appears any probability of recovering it, a nation may wil- lingly run many hazards, and ought not even to repine at the greatest effusion of blood or dissipation of treasure. All human institutions, and none more than government, are in continual fluctuation. Kings are sure to embrace every opportunity of extending their prerogatives: And if favourable incidents be not also laid hold of for extending and securing the privileges of the people, an universal despotism must for ever prevail amongst mankind. The example of all the neighbouring na- tions proves, that it is no longer safe to entrust with crown the same high prerogatives, which had formerly been exercised dur- ing rude and simple ages. And though the example of many late reigns may be pleaded in favour of a power in the prince somewhat arbitrary, more remote reigns afford instances of OF THE COALITION OF PARTIES. 489 stricter limitations imposed on the crown ; and those preten- sions of the parliament, now branded with the title of innova- tions, are only a recovery of the just rights of the people. These views, far from being odious, are surely large, and gen- erous, and noble : To their'prevalence and success the kingdom owes its liberty; perhaps its learning, its industry, commerce, and naval power: By them chiefly the English name is dis- tinguished among the society of nations, and aspires to a rival- ship with that of the freest and most illustrious commonwealths of antiquity. But as all these mighty consequences could not reasonably be foreseen at the time when the contest began, the royalists of that age wanted not specious arguments on their Bide, by which they could justify their defence of the then esta- blished prerogatives of the prince. We shall state the question, as it might have appeared to them at the assembling of that par- liament, which, by its violent encroachment on the crown, be- gan the civil wars. The only rule of government, they might have said, known and acknowledged among men, is use and practice : Reason is so uncertain a guide that it will always be exposed to doubt and controversy : Could it ever render itself prevalent over the people, men had always retained it as their sole rule of con- duct : They had still continued in the primitive, unconnected, state of nature, without submitting to political government, whose sole basis is, not pure reason, but authority and prece- dent. Dissolve these ties, you break all the bonds of civil so- ciety, and leave every man at liberty to consult his private in- terest, by those expedients, which his appetite, disguised un- der the appearance of reason, shall dictate to him. The spirit of innovation is in itself pernicious, however favourable its par- ticular object may sometimes appear: A truth so obvious, that the popular party themselves are sensible of it; and therefore cover their encroachments on the crown by the plausible pre- tence of their recovering the ancient liberties of the people. P 3 490 ESSAY XIV. But the present prerogatives of the crown, allowing all the suppositions of that party, have been incontestably established ever since the accession of the House of Tuder ; a period, which, as it now comprehends a hundred and sixty years, may be allowed sufficient to give stability to any constitution. Would it nothave appeared ridiculous, in the reign of the Km- peror HEDRiAN,tohave talked of the republican constitution as the rule of government; or to have supposed, that the former rights of the senate, and consuls, and tribunes were still sub- sisting ? But the present claims of the English monarchs are much more favourable than those of the Roman emperors during that age. The authority of Augustus was a plain usurpation, grounded only on military violence, and forms such an epoch in the Roman history, as is obvious to every reader. But if Hen- ry VII. really, as some pretend, enlarged the power of the crown, it was only by insensible acquisitions, which escaped the apprehension of the people, and have scarcely been remarked even by historians and politicians. The new government, if it deserve the epithet, is an imperceptible transition from the for- mer ; is entirely engrafted on it; derives its title fully from that root; and is to be considered only as one of those gradual revolutions, to which human affairs, in every nation, will be for ever subject. The House of Tuder, and after them that of Stuart, exer- cised no prerogatives, but what had been claimed and exercis- ed by thefPLANTAGENETS. Not a single branch of their autho- rity can be said to be an innovation. The only difference is, that, perhaps, former kings exerted these powers only by intervals, and were not able, by reason of the opposition of their barons, to render them so steady a rule of administration. But the sole inference from this fact is, that those ancient times were more turbulent and seditious ; and that royal authority, the constitution, and the laws have happily of late gained the as- cendant. OF THE COALITION OF PARTIES, 491 Under what pretence can the popular party now speak of recovering the ancient constitution ? The former controul over the kings was not placed in the commons, but in the barons : The people had no authority, and even little or no liberty; till the crown, by suppressing these factious tyrants, enforced the execution of the laws, and obliged all the subjects equally to respect each others rights, privileges, and properties. If we must return to the ancient barbarous and feudal constitution j let those gentlemen, who now behave themselves with so much insolence to their sovereign, set the first example. Let them make court to be admitted as retainers to a neighbouring baron ; and by submitting to slavery under him, acquire some protec- tion to themselves; together with the power of exercising ra- pine and oppression over their inferior slaves and villains. This was the condition of the commons among their remote ancestors. But how far back must we go, in having recourse to ancient constitutions and governments ? There was a constitution still more ancient than that to which these innovators affect so much to appeal. During that period there was no magna chatar: The barons themselves possessed few regular, stated privileges: And the house of commons probably had not an existence. It is ridiculous to hear the commons, while they are assuming, by usurpation, the whole power of government, talk of reviving ancient institutions. Is it not known, that, though repre- sentatives received wages from their constituents; to be a member of the lower house was always considered as a burden, and an exemption from it as a privilege ? Will they persuade us, that power, which, of all human acquisitions, is the most coveted, and in comparison of which even reputation and plea- sure and riches are slighted, could ever be regarded as a burden by any man ? 492 ESSAY XIV. The property, acquired of late by the commons, it is said, entitles them to more power than their ancestors enjoyed. But to what is this encrease of their property owing, but to an en- crease of their liberty and their security ? Let them therefore acknowledge, that their ancestors, while the crown was restrain- ed by the seditious barons, really enjoyed less liberty than they themselves have attained, after the sovereign acquired the as- cendant : And let them enjoy that liberty with moderation ; and not forfeit it by new exorbitant claims, and by rendering it a pretence for endless innovations. The true rule of government is the present established prac- tice of the age. That has mo»t authority, because it is recent: It is also best known, for the same reason. Who has assured those tribunes, that the Plavtagenets did not exercise as high acts of authority as the Tudors ? Historians, they say, do not mention them. But historians are also silent with regard to the chief exertions of prerogative by the Tudors. Where any pow- er or prerogative is fully and undoubtedly established, the ex- ercise of it passes for a thing of course, and readily escapes the notice of history and annals. Had we no other monuments of Elizabeth's reign, than what are preserved even b yCAM- den, the most copious, judicious, and exact of our historians, : we should be entirely ignorant of the most important maxims of her government. Was not the present monarchical government, in its full extent, authorized by lawyers, recommended by divines, ac- knowledged by politicians, acquiesced in, nay passionately cherished, by the people in general; and all this during a period of at least a hundred and sixty years, and till of late, without the smallest murmur or controversy ? This general consent surely, during so long a time, must be sufficient to render a constitution legal and valid. If the origin of all power be derived, as is pretended, from the people ; here is their consent in the fullest and most ample terms that can be desired or imagined, j of the coalition of parties. 49S But the people must not pretend, because they can, by theif consent, lay the foundations of government, that therefore they are to be permitted, at their pleasure, to overthrow and subvert them. There is no end of these seditious and arrogant claims. The power of the crown is now openly struck at: The nobility are also in visible peril: The gentry will soon follow : The popular leaders, who will then assume the name of gentry, will next be exposed to danger: And the people themselves, having become incapable of civil government, and lying under the re- straint of no authority, must, for the sake of peace, admit, instead of their legal and mild monarchs, a succession of military and despotic tyrants. These consequences are the more to be dreaded, as the pre- sent fury of the people, though glossed over by pretensions to civil liberty, is in reality incited by the fanaticism of religion; a principle the most blind, headstrong, and ungovernable, by which human nature can possibly be actuated. Popular rage is dreadful, from whatever motive derived : But must be attend- ed with tlie most pernicious consequences, when it arises from a principle, which disclaims all controul by human law, reason, or authority. These are the arguments, which each party may make use of to justify the conduct of their predecessors, during that great crisis. The event, if that can be admitted as a reason, has shown, that the arguments of the popular party were better founded ; but perhaps, according to the established maxims of lawyers and politicians, the views of the royalists ought, before hand, to have appeared more solid, more safe, and more legal. But this is certain, that the greater moderation we now employ in representing past events ; the nearer shall we be to produce a full coalition of the parties, and an entire acquiescence in our present establishment. Moderation is of advantage to every establishment: Nothing but zeal can overturn a settled power: And an over-active zeal in friends is apt to beget a like spirit 494 ESSAY XIV. in antagonists. The transition from a moderate opposition against an establishment, to an entire acquiescence in it, is easy and insensible. There are many invincible arguments, which should induce the malcontent party to acquiesce entirely in the present set- tlement of the constitution. They now find, that the spirit of civil liberty, though at first connected with religious fanaticism, could purge itself from that pollution, and appear under a more genuine and engaging aspect; a friend to toleration, and an en- courager of all the enlarged and generous sentiments that do honour to human nature. They may observe, that the popular claims could stop at a proper period; and after retrenching the high claims of prerogative, could still maintain a due respect to monarchy, to nobility, and to all ancient institutions. Above all, they must be sensible, that the very principle, which made the strength of their party, and from which it derived its chief authority, has now deserted them, and gone over to their anta- gonists. The plan of liberty is settled ; its happy effects are proved by experience ; a long tract of time has given it stabi- lity ; and whoever would attempt to overturn it, 'and to recall the past government or abdicated family, would, besides other more criminal imputations, be exposed, in their turn, to the reproach of faction and innovation. While they peruse the history of past events, they ought to reflect, both that those rights of the crown are long since annihilated, and that the tyranny, and violence, and oppression, to which they often gave rise, are ills, from, which the established liberty of the constitu- tion has now at last happily protected the people. These reflec- tions will prove a better security to our freedom and privileges, than to deny, contrary to the clearest evidence of facts, that such regal powers ever had an existence. There is not a more effectual method of betraying a cause, than to lay the stress of the argument on a wrong place, and by disputing an untenable post^ enure the adversaries to success and victory. ESSAY XV. OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. I SUPPOSE, that a member of parliament, in the reign 01 King William or Queen Anne, while the establishment of the Protestant Succession was yet uncertain, were deliberating con- cerning the party he would chuse in that important question, and weighing, with impartiality, the advantages and disadvantages on each side. I believe the following particulars would have entered into his consideration. He could easily perceive the great advantage resulting from the restoration of the Stuart family ; by which we should pre- serve the succession clear and undisputed, free from a pretender, with such a specious title as that of blood, which, with the mul- titude, is always the claim, the strongest and most easily com- prehended. It is in vain to say, as many have done, that the question with regard to governors, independent of government, is frivolous, and little worth disputing, much less fighting arout. The generality, of mankind never will enter into these senti- ments; and it is much happier, I believe, for society, that they do not, but rather continue in their natural prepossessions. How could stability be preserved in any monarchical government, (which, though perhaps, not the best, is, and always has been, the most common of any) unless men had so passionate a regard for the true heir of their royal family; and even though he be weak in understanding, or infirm in years,gave him so sensible a preference above persons the most accomplished in shining ta- lents, or celebrated for great atchievements ? Would not every popular leader put in his claim at every vacancy, or even with- 496 ESSAY XV. out any vacancy; and the kingdom become the theatre of per- petual wars an,d convulsions? The condition of the Roman em- pire, surely, was not, in this respect, much to be envied ; nor is that of the Eastern nations, who pay little regard to the titles of their sovereign, but sacrifice them, every day, to the caprice or momentary humour of the populace or soldiery. It is but a foolish wisdom, which is so carefully displayed, in undervaluing princes, and placing them on a level with the meanest of man- kind. To be sure, an anatomist finds no more in the greatest monarch than in the lowest peasant or day-labourer; and a mo- ralist may, perhaps, frequently find less. But what do all these reflections tend to ? We, all of us, still retain these prejudices in favour of birth and family; and neither in our serious occupa- tions, nor most careless amusements, can we ever get entirely rid of them. A tragedy, that should represent the adventures of sailors, or porters, or even of private gentlemen, would pre- sently disgust us; but one that introduces kings and princes, acquires in our eyes an air of importance and dignity. Or should a man be able, by his superior wisdom, to get entirely above such prepossessions, he would soon, by means of the same wis- dom, again bring himself down to them, for the sake of society, whose welfare he would perceive to be intimately connected with them. Far from endeavouring to undeceive the people in thhyiarticular, he would cherish such sentiments of reverence to their princes; as requisite to preserve a due subordination in Society. And though the lives of twenty thousand men be often sacrificed to maintain a king in possession of his throne, or pre- serve the right of succession undisturbed, he entertains no in- dignation at the loss, on pretence that every individual of these was, perhaps, in himself, as valuable as the prince he served. He considers the consequences of violating the hereditary right of kings : Consequences, which may be felt for many centuries; while the loss of several thousand men brings so little prejudice to a large kingdom, that it may not be perceived a few years after. OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 497 The advantages of the Hanover succession are of an opposite nature, and arise from this very circumstance, that it violates hereditary right; and places on the throne a prince to whom birth gave no title to that dignity. It is evident, from the his- tory of this island, that the privileges of the people have, (hiring near two centuries, been continually upon the encrease, by the division of the church-lands, by the alienations of the barons' estates, by the progress of trade, and above all, by the happiness of our situation, which for a- longtime, gave us sufficient securi- ty, without any standing army or military establishment. On the contrary, public liberty has, almost in every other nation of Europe, been, during the same period, extremely upon the decline; while the people were disgusted at tlie hardships of the old feudal militia, and rather chose to entrust their prince with mercenary armies, which he easily turned against themselves. It was nothing extraordinary, therefore, that some of our Bri- tish sovereigns mistook the nature of the constitution, at least, the genius of the people; and as they embraced all the favourable precedents left them by their ancestors, they overlooked all those which were contrary, and which supposed a limitation in our government. They were encouraged in this mistake, by the example of all the neighbouring princes, who bearing the same title or appellation, and being adorned with the same ensigns of authority, naturally led them to claim the same powers and^-e- rogatives. It appears from the speeches, and proclamations of James I. and the whole train of that princes actions, as well as his son's, that he regarded the English government as a sim- ple monarchy, and never imagined that any considerable part of his subjects entertained a contrary idea. This opinion made those monarchs discover their pretensions, without preparing any force to support them; and even without reserve or dis- guise, which are always employed by those, who enter upon any new project, or endeavour to innovate in any government. The flattery of courtiers farther confirmed their prejudices; and above all, that of the clergy, who from several passages of scripture, and these wrested too, had erected a regular and Q3 498 ESSAY XV. avowed system of arbitrary power. The only method of de- stroying, at once, all these high claims and pretensions, was to depart from the true hereditary line, and choose a prince, who, being plainly a creature of the public, and receiving the crown on conditions, expressed and avowed, found his authority esta- blished on the same bottom with the privileges of the people. By electing him in the royal line, we cut off all hopes of ambi- tious subjects, who might, in future emergencies, disturb the government by their cabals and pretensions : By rendering the crown hereditary in his family, we avoided all the inconvenien- cies of elective monarchy : And by excluding the lineal heir, we secured all our constitutional limitations, and rendered our go- vernment uniform and of a piece. The people cherish monar- chy, because protected by it: The monarch favours liberty be- cause created by it. And thus every advantage is obtained by the new establishment, as far as human skill and wisdom can extend itself. These are the separate advantages of fixing the succession, ei- ther in the house of Stuart, or in that of Hanover. There are also disadvantages in each establishment, which an impartial patriot would ponder and examine, in order to form a just judg- ment upon the whole. The disadvantages of the protestant succession consist in the foreign dominions, which are possessed by the princes of the Hanover line, and which, it might be supposed, would engage us in the intrigues and warj of the continent, and lose us, in some measure, the inestimable advantage we possess, of being surrounded and guarded by the sea, which we command. The disadvantages of recalling the abdicated family consist chiefly in their religion, which is more prejudicial to society than that established amongst us, is contrary to it, and affords no tolera- tion, or peace, or security to any other communion. It appears to me, that these advantages and disadvantages are allowed on both sides; at least, by every one who is at a" OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 499 susceptible of argument or reasoning. No subject, however loyal, pretends to deny, that the disputed title and foreign dominions of the present royal family are a loss. Nor is there any parti- zan of the Stuarts, but will confess, that the claim of heredi- tary, indefeasible right, and the Roman Catholic religion, are also disadvantages in that family. It belongs, therefore, to a philosopher alone, who is of neither party, to put all the circum- stances in the scale, and assign to each of them its proper poise and influence. Such a one will readily, at first, acknowledge that all political questions are infinitely complicated, and that there scarcely ever occurs, in any deliberation, a choice which is either purely good, or purely ill. Consequences, mixed and varied, may be foreseen to flow from every measure : And many consequences, unforeseen, do always, in fact, result from every one. Hesitation, and reserve, and suspence, are, therefore, the only sentiments he brings to this essay or trial. Or if he indulges any passion, it is that of derision against the ignorant multitude, who are always clamorous and dogmatical, even in the nicest questions, of which, from want of temper, perhaps still more than of understanding, they are altogether unfit judges. But to say something more determinate on this head, the fol- lowing reflections will, I hope, show the temper, if not the un- derstanding of a philosopher. Mk Were we to judge merely by first appearances, and by past experience, we must allow that the advantages of a parliamen- tary title in the house of Hanover are greater than those of an undisputed hereditary title in the house of Stuart : and that our fathers acted wisely in preferring the former to the latter. So long as the house of Stuart ruled in Great Britain, which, with some interruption, was above eighty years, the go- vernment was kept in a continual fever, by the fontention be- tween the privileges of the people and the prerogatives of the crown. If arms were dropped, the noise of disputes continued: Or if these were silenced, jealousy still corroded the heart, and 5 00 ESSAY XV. threw the nation into an unnatural ferment and disorder. And while we were thus occupied in domestic disputes, a foreign power, dangerous to public liberty, erected itself in Europe, without any opposition from us, and even sometimes with our assistance. But during these last sixty years, when a parliamentary es- tablishment has taken place; whatever factions may have pre- vailed either among the people or in public assemblies, the whole force of our constitution has always fallen to one side, and an uninterrupted harmony has been preserved between our princes and our parliaments. Public liberty, with internal peace and or- der, has flourished almostwithout interruption': Tradeandmanu- factures, and agriculture, have encreased: The arts, and scien- ces, and philosophy, have been cultivated. Even religious par- ties have been necessitated to lay aside their mutual rancour: And the glory of the nation has spread itself all over Europe ; derived equally from our progress in the arts of peace, and from valour and success in war. So long and so glorious a period no nation almost can boast of: Nor is there another instance in the whole history of mankind, that so many millions of people have, during such a space of time, been held together, in a man- ner so free, so rational, and so suitable to the dignity of human nature. But though this recent experience seems clearly to decide in favour of the present establishment, there are some circumstan- ces to be thrown into the other scale; and it is dangerous to regulate our judgment by one event or example. We have had two rebellions during the flourishing period above mentioned, besides plots and conspiracies without num- ber. And if none of these have produced any very fatal event, we may ascribe our escape chiefly to the narrow genius of those princes who disputed our establishment: and we may esteem ourselves so far fortunate. But the claims of the banished fami- OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 501 ly, I fear, are not yet antiquated; and who can foretell, that their future attempts will produce no greater disorder ? The disputes between privilege and prerogative may easily be composed by laws, and votes, and conferences, and conces- sions ; where there is tolerable temper or prudence on both sides, or on either side. Among contending titles, the ques- tion can only be determined by the sword, and by devastation, and by civil war. A prince, who fills the throne with a disputed title, dares not arm his subjects ; the only method of securing a people fully, both against domestic oppression and foreign conquest. Notwithstanding our riches and renown, what a critical es- cape did we make, by the late peace, from dangers, which were owing not so much to bad conduct and ill success in war, as to the pernicious practice of mortgaging our finances, and the still more pernicious maxim of never paying off our incum- brances ? Such fatal measures would not probably have been embraced, had it not been to secure a precarious establishment. But to convince us, that an hereditary title is to be embraced rather than a parliamentary one, which is not supported bjfcny other views or motives; a man needs only transport himself back to the sera of the restoration, and suppose, that he had had a seat in that parliament which recalled the royal familv, and put a period to the greatest disorders that ever arose from the opposite pretensions of prince and people. What would have been thought of one, that had proposed, at that time, to set aside Charles II. and settle the crown on the Duke of, York or Gloucester, merely in order to exclude all high claims, like those of their father and grandfather ? Would not such a one have been regarded as an extravagant projector, who loved dangerous remedies, and could tamper and play with a govern- ment and national constitution, like a quack with a sickly patient ? 502 ESSAY XV. In reality, the reason assigned by the nation for excluding the race of Stuart, and so many other branches of the royal family, is not on account of their hereditary title (a reason, which would, to vulgar apprehensions, have appeared altogether absurd), but on account of their religion. Which leads us to compare the disadvantages above mentioned in each establish- ment. I confess, that, considering the matter in general, it were much to be wished, that our prince had no foreign dominions, and could confine all his attention to the government of this island. For not to mention some real inconveniencies that may result from territories on the continent, they afford such a han- dle for calumny and defamation, as is greedily seized by the people, always disposed to think ill of their superiors. It must, however, be acknowledged, that Hanover, is perhaps, the spot of ground in Europe the least inconvenient for a King of En- gland. It lies in the heart of Germany, at a distance from the great powers, which are our natural rivals : It is protected by the laws of the empire, as well as by the arms of its own sovereign : And it serves only to connect us more closely with the house of Austria, our natural ally. TbA religious persuasion of the house of Stuart is an incon- venirace of a much deeper dye, and would threaten us with much more dismal consequences. The Roman Catholic reli- gion, with its train of priests and friars, is more expensive than ours: Even though unaccompanied with its natural attendants of inquisitors, and stakes, and gibbets, it is less tolerating: And not content with dividing the sacerdotal frovi the regal office (which must be prejudicial to any state), it bestows the former on a foreigner, who has always a separate interest from that of the public, and may often have an opposite one. But were this religion ever so advantageous to society, it is contrary to that which is established among us, and which is like- OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 503 ly to keep possession, for a long time, of the minds of the peo- ple. And though it is much to be hoped, that the progress of reason will, by degrees, abate the acrimony of opposite religions all over Europe ; yet the spirit of moderation has, as yet, made too slow advances to be entirely trusted. Thus, upon the whole, the advantages of the settlement in the family of Stuart, which frees us from a disputed title, seem to bear some proportion with those of the settlement in the fami- ly of Hanover, which frees us from the claims of prerogative : But at the same time, its disadvantages, by placing on the throne a Roman Catholic, are greater than those of the other establish- ment, in settling the crown on a foreign prince. What party an impartial patriot, in the reign of K. William and Q. Anne, would have chosen amidst these opposite views, may, perhaps, to some appear hard to determine. Rut the settlement in the house of Hanoveb has actually taken place. The princes of that family, without intrigue, without cabal, without solicitation on their part, have been call- ed to mount our throne, by the united voice of the whole legis- lative body. They have, since their accession, displayed, in all their actions, the utmost mildness, equity, and regard to the laws and constitution. Our own ministers, our own pjfra- ments, ourselves have governed us; and if aught ill has befall- en us, we can only blame fortune or ourselves. What a re- proach must we become among nations, if, disgusted with a set- tlement so deliberately made, and whose conditions have been so religiously observed, we should throw every thing again into confusion; and by our levity and rebellious disposition, prove ourselves totally unfit for any state but that of absolute slavery and subjection ? The greatest inconvenience, attending a disputed title, is, that it brings us in danger of civil wars and rebellions. What wise man, to avoid this inconvenience, would run directly into 504 ESSAY XV. a civil war and rebellion ? Not to mention, that so long pos- session, secured by so many laws, must, ere this time, in the apprehension of a great part of the nation, have begotten a title in the house of Hanover, independent of their present posses- sion: So that now we should not, even by a revolution, obtain the end of avoiding a disputed title. No revolution made by national forces, will ever be able, without some other great necessity, to abolish our debts and in- cumbrances, in which the interest of so many persons is con- cerned. And a revolution made by foreign forces, is a con- quest : A calamity, with which the precarious balance of power threatens us, and which our civil dissentions are likely, above all other circumstances, to bring upon us. ESSAY XVI. IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH." IT is not with forms of government, as with other artificial contrivances; where an old engine may be rejected, if we can discover another more accurate and commodious, or where trials may safely be made, even though the success be doubtful. An established government has an infinite advantage, by that vfery circumstance of its being established ; the bulk of mankind be- ing governed by authority, not reason, and never attributing authority to any thing that has not the recommendation of anti- quity. To tamper, therefore, in this affair, or try experiments merely upon the credit of supposed argument and philosophy, can never be the part of a wise magistrate, who will bear a reverence to what carries the marks of age; and though he may attempt some improvements for the public good, yet will he ad- just his innovations, as much as possible, 1o the ancient fabric, and preserve entire the chief pillars and supports of the consti- tution. The mathematicians in Europe have been much divided con- cerning that figure of a ship, which is the most commodious for sailing; and Huygens, who at last determined the controversy, is justly thought to have obliged the learned, as well as com- mercial world ; though Columbus had sailed to America, and Sir Francis Drake made the tour of the world, without any such discovery. As one form of government must be alloWed more perfect than another, independent of the manners and hu- mours of particular men; why may we not enquire what is the most perfect of all, though the common botched and inaccurate R3 506 ESSAY XVI. governments seem to serve the purposes of society, and though it be not so easy to establish a new system of government, as to build a vessel upon a new construction ? The subject is surely the most worthy curiosity of any the wit of man can possibly devise. And who knows, if this controversy were fixed by the universal consent of the wise and learned, but, in some future age, an opportunity might be afforded of reducing the theory to practice, either by a dissolution of some old go- vernment, or by the combination of men to form a new one, in some distant part of the world ? In all cases, it must be advan- tageous to know what is most perfect in the kind, that we may be able to bring any real constitution or form of government as near it as possible, by such gentle alterations and innova- tions as may not give too great disturbance to society. All I pretend to in the present essay is to revive this subject of speculation; and therefore I shall deliver my sentiments in as few words as possible. A long dissertation on that head would not, I apprehend, be very acceptable to the public, who will be apt to regard such disquisitions both as useless and chi- merical. All plans of government, which suppose great reformation in thdhnanners of mankind, are plainly imaginary. Of this nature, are the Republic of Plato, and the Utopia of Sir Thomas More. The Oceana is the only valuable model of a common- wealth, that has yet been offered to the public. . The chief defects of the Oceana seem to be these. First, Its rotation is inconvenient, by throwing men, of whatever abi- lities, by intervals, out of public employments. Secondly, Its Agrarian is impracticable. Men will soon learn the art, which was practised in ancient Rome, of concealing their possessions under other people's name; till at last, the abuse will become so common, that they will throw off even the appearance of re- straint. Thirdly, The Oceana provides not a sufficient secu- IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 50? rity for liberty, or the redress of grievances. The senate must propose, and the people consent; by which means, the senate have not only a negative upon the people, but, what is of much greater consequence, their negative goes before the votes of the people. Were the King's negative of the same nature in the English constitution, and could he prevent any bill from coming into parliament, he would be an absolute monarch. As his negative follows the votes of the houses, it is of little con- sequence : Such a difference is there in the manner of placing the same thing. When a popular bill has been debated in par- liament, is brought to maturity, all its conveniencies and incon- veniencies, weighed and balanced ; if afterwards it be present- ed for the royal assent, few princes will venture to reject the unanimous desire of the people. But could the King crush a disagreeable bill in embryo (as was the case, for some time, in the Scottish parliament, by means of the lords of the articles,) the British government would have no balance, nor would grievances ever be redressed: And it is certain, that exorbi- tant power proceeds not, in any government, from new laws, so much as from neglecting to remedy the abuses, which fre- quently rise from the old ones. A government, says Machia- vel, must often be brought back to its original principles. It appears then, that, in the Oceana, the whole legislature may be said to rest in the senate ; which Harrington would own to be an inconvenient form of government, especially after the Agrarian is abolished. Here is a form of government, to which I cannot, in theory, discover any considerable objection. Let Great Britain and Ireland, or any territory of equal extent, be divided into 100 counties, and each county into 100 parishes, making in alj 10,000. If the country, proposed to be erected into a commonwealth be of more narrow extent, we may diminish the number of counties; but never bring them below thirty. |f it be of greater extent, it were better to enlarge the 508 ESSAY XVI. parishes, or throw more parishes into a county, than encrewe the number of counties. Let all the freeholders of twenty pounds a year in the coun- ty, and all the householders worth 500 pounds in the town parishes, meet annually in the parish church, and chuse, by ballot, some freeholder of the county for their member, whom we shall call the county representative. Let the 100 county representatives, two days after their elec- tion, meet in the county town, and chuse by ballot, from their own body, ten county magistrates, and one senator. There are, therefore, in the whole commonwealth, 100 senators, 1100 county magistrates, and 10,000 county representatives. For we shall bestow on all senators the authority of county magis- trates, and on all county magistrates the authority of county re- presentatives. Let the senators meet in the capital, and be endowed with the whole executive power of the commonwealth ; the power of peace and war, of giving orders to generals, admirals, and am- bassadors, and, in short, all the prerogatives of a British King, except his negative. Let the county representatives meet in their particular coun- ties, and possess the whole legislative power of the common- wealth ; the greater number of counties deciding the question ; and where these are equal, let the senate have the casting vote. Every new law must first be debated in the senate ; and though rejected by it, if ten senators insist-and protest, it must be sent down to the counties. The senate, if they please, may join to the copy of the law their reasons for receiving or reject- ing it. IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 509 Because it would be troublesome to assemble all the county representatives for every trivial law, that may be requisite, the senate have their choice of sending down the law either to the county magistrates or county representatives. The magistrates, though the law be referred to them, may, if they please, call the representatives, and submit the affair to their determination. Whether the law be referred by the senate to the county magistrates or representatives, a copy of it, and of the senate's reasons, must be sent to every representative eight days before the day appointed for the assembling, in order to deliberate concerning it. And though the determination be, by the senate, referred to the magistrates, if five representatives of the coun- ty order the magistrates to assemble the whole court of repre- sentatives, and submit the affair to their determination, they must obey. Either the county magistrates or representatives may give, to the senator of the county, the copy of a law to be proposed to the senate ; and if five counties concur in the same order, the law, though refused by the senate, must come either to the county magistrates or representatives, as is contained in the order of the five counties. Any twenty counties1, by a vote either of their magistrates or representatives, may throw any man out of all public offices for a year. Thirty counties for three years. The senate has a power of throwing out any member or num- ber of members of its own body, not to be re-elected for that year. The senate cannot throw out twice ip a year the senator qf the same county. 510 ESSAY XVI. The power of the old senate continues for three weeks after the annual election of the county representatives. Then all the new senators are shut up in a conclave, like the cardinals; and by an intricate ballot, such as that of Venice or Malta, they choose the following magistrates; a protector, who repre- sents the dignity of the commonwealth, and presides in the senate; two secretaries of state; these six councils, a council of state, a council of religion and learning, a council of trade, a council of laws, a council of war, a council of the admiralty, each council consisting of five persons; together with six com- missioners of the treasury and a first commissioner. All these must be senators. The senate also names all the ambassador* to foreign courts, who may either be senators or not. The senate may continue any or all of these, but must re- elect them every year. The protector and two secretaries have session and suffrage in the council of state. The business of that council is all fo- reign politics. The council of state has session and suffrage in all the other councils. The council of religion and learning inspects the universities and clergy. That of trade inspects every thing that may affect commerce. That of laws inspects all the abuses of law by the inferior magistrates, and examines what improvements may be made of the municipal law. That of war inspects the militia and its discipline, magazines, stores, Sfc. and when the repub- lic is in war, examines into the proper orders for generals. The council of admiralty has the same power with regard to the navy, together with the nomination of the captains and all infe- rior officers. None of these councils can give orders themselves, except where they receive such powers from the senate. In other cases, they must communicate every thing to the senate. IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 511 When the senate is under adjournment, any of the councils may assemble it before the day appointed for its meeting. Besides these councils or courts, there is another called the court of competitors; which is thus constituted. If any candi- dates for the office of senator have more votes than a third of the representatives, that candidate, who has most votes, next to the senator elected, becomes incapable for one year of all pub- lic offices, even of being a magistrate or representative : But he takes his seat in the court of competitors. Here then is a court which may sometimes consist of a hundred members, sometimes have no members at all; and by that means, be for a year abo- lished. The court of competitors has no power in the commonwealth. It has only the inspection of public accounts, and the accusing of any man before the senate. If the senate acquit him, the court of competitors may, if they please, appeal to the people, either magistrates, or representatives. Upon that appeal, the magistrates or representatives meet on the day appointed by the court of competitors, and choose in each county three persons; from which number every senator is excluded. These, to the number of 300, meet in the capital, and bring the person accus- ed to a new trial. The court of competitors may propose any law to the senate; and if refused, may appeal to the people, that is, to the magis- trates or representatives, who examine it in their counties. Every senator, who is thrown out of the senate by a vote of the court, takes his seat in the court of competitors. The senate possesses all the judicative authority of the house of Lords, that is, all the appeals from the inferior courts. It likewise appoints the Lord Chancellor, and all the officers of the law. 5J2 ESSAY XVI. Every county is a kind of republic within itself, and the re presentatives may make bye-laws; which have no authority 'till three months after they are voted. A copv of the law is sent to the senate, and to every other county. The senate, or any single county, may, at any time, annul any bye-law of ano- ther county. The representatives have all the authority of the British justices of peace in trials, commitments, Sfc. The magistrates have the appointment of all the officers of the revenue in each county. All causes with regard to the reve- nue are carried ultimately by appeal before the magistrates. They pass the accompts of all the officers ; but must have their own accompts examined and passed at the end of the year by the representatives. The magistrates name rectors or ministers to all the parishes. The Presbyterian government is established; and the highest ecclesiastical court is an assembly or synod of all the presbyters of the county. The magistrates may take any cause from this court, and determine it themselves. The magistrates may try, and depose or suspend any pres- byter. The militia is established in imitation of that of Swisserland, which being well known, we shall not insist upon it. It will only be proper to make this addition, that an army of 20,000 men be annually drawn out by rotation, paid and encamped dur- ing six weeks in summer; that the duty of a camp may not be altogether unknown. The magistrates appoint all the colonels and downwards. The senate all upwards. During war, the general appoints the colonel and downwards, and his commission is good for a twelve- month. But after that, it must be confirmed by the magistrates IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 51S of tlie county, to which the regiment belongs. The magistrates may break any officer in the county regiment. And the senate may do the same to any officer in the service. If the magistrates do not think proper to confirm the general's choice, they may appoint another officer in the place of him they reject. All crimes are tried within the county by the magistrates and a jury. But the senate can stop any trial, and bring it before themselves. Any county may indict any man before the senate for any crime. The protector, the two secretaries, the council of state, with any five or more that the senate appoints, are possessed, on ex- traordinary emergencies, of dictatorial power for six months. The protector may pardon any person condemned by the in- ferior courts. In time of war, no officer of the army that is in the field can have any civil office in the commonwealth. The capital, which we shall call London, may be allowed four members in the senate. It may therefore be divided into fourcounties. The representatives of each of these choose one senator, and ten magistrates. There are therefore in the city four senators, forty-four magistrates, and four hundred repre- sentatives. The magistrates have the same authority as in the counties. The representatives also have the same authority; but they never meet in one general court: They give their votes in their particular county or division of hundreds. When they enact any bye-law, the greater number of coun- ties or divisions determines the matter. And where these are equal, the magistrates have the casting vote. S3 514 ESSAY XVI. The magistrates choose the mayor, sheriff, recorder, and other officers of the city. In the commonwealth, no representative, magistrate, or sen- ator, as such, has any salary.* The protector, secretaries, councils, and ambassadors, have salaries. The first year in every century is set apart for correcting all inequalities, which time may have produced in the representa- tive. This must be done by the legislature.! The following political aphorisms may explain the reason of these orders. The lower sort of people and small proprietors are good judges enough of one not very distant from them in rank or ha- bitation ; and therefore, in their parochial meetings, will pro- bably choose the best, or nearly the best representative : But they are wholly unfit for county-meetings, and for electing into the higher offices of the republic. Their ignorance gives the gran- dees an opportunity of deceiving them. Ten thousand, even though they were not annually elected, are a basis large enough for any free government. It is true, the no- bles in Poland are more than 10,000, and yet these oppress the people. But as power always continues therein the same per- sons and families, this makes them, in a manner, a different na- tion from the people. Besides the nobles are there united under a few heads of families. All free governments must consist of two councils, a lesser and greater : or, in other words, of a senate and people. The * Would not this throw the power into the hands of the rich I f Ought not this to be more frequent ? Once in 20 years for instance, t» prevent that despair of seeing reforms, which might occasion violent at- tempts at them. E, IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 515 people, as Harrington observes, would want wisdom, without the senate : The senate, without the people, would want honesty. A large assembly of 1000, for instance, to represent the peo- ple, if allowed to debate, would fall into disorder. If not allow- ed to debate, the senate has a negative, upon them, and the worst kind of negative, that before resolution. Here therefore is an inconvenience, which no government has yet fully remedied, but which is the easiest to be remedied in the world. If the people debate, all is confusion: If they do not debate, they can only resolve; and then the senate carves for them. Divide the people into many separate bodies; and then they may debate with safety, and every inconvenience seems to be prevented. Cardinal de Retz says, that all numerous assemblies, how- ever composed, are mere mob, and swayed in their debates by the least motive. This we find confirmed by daily experience. When an absurdity strikes a member, he conveys it to his neigh- bour, and so on, till the whole be infected. Separate this great body; and though every member be only of middling sense, it is not probable, that any thing but reason can prevail over the whole. Influence and example being removed, good sense will always get the better of bad among a number of people. There are two things to be guarded against in every senate: ' Its combination, and its division. Its combination is most dan- gerous. And against this inconvenience we have provided the following remedies. 1. The great dependence of the senators on the people by annual elections; and that not by an undistin- guishing rabble, like the English electors, but by men of for- tune and education. 2. The small power they are allowed. They have few offices to dispose of. Almost all are given by the magistrates in the counties. 3. The court of competitors, which being composed of men that are their rivals, next to them 516 ESSAY XVI. in interest, and uneasy in their present situation, will be sure to take all advantages against them. The division of the senate is prevented, 1. By the smallness of their number. 2. As faction supposes a combination in a separate interest, it is prevented by their dependence on the peo- ple. 3. They have a power of expelling any factious member. It is true, when another member of the same spirit comes from the county, they have no power of expelling him : Nor is it fit they should; for that shows the humour to be in the people, and may possibly arise from some ill conduct in public affairs. 4. Almost any man, in a senate so regularly chosen by the people, may be supposed fit for any civil office. It would be proper, therefore, for the senate to form some general resolutions with regard to the disposing of offices among the members : Which resolutions would not confine them in critical times, when extraordinary parts on the one hand, or extraordinary stupidity on the other, appears in any senator; but they would be sufficient to prevent intrigue and faction, by making the disposal of the offices a thing of course. For instance, let it be a resolution, That no man shall enjoy any office, till he has sat four years in the senate: That, except ambassadors, no man shall be in office two years following: That no man shall attain the higher offices but through the lower: That no man shall be protector twice, 8fc. The senate of Venice govern themselves by such resolutions. In foreign politics the interest of the senate can scarcely ever be divided from that of the people; and therefore it is fit to make the senate absolute with regard to them; otherwise there could be no secrecy or refined policy. Besides, without money no alliance can be executed; and the senate is still sufficiently dependant. Not to mention, that the legislative power being always superior to the executive, the magistrates or representa- tives may interpose whenever they think proper. The chief support of the British government is the opposi- tion of interests; but that, though in the main serviceable, IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 517 breeds endless factions. In the foregoing phn, it does all the good without any of the harm. The competi*.^* hsve no power of controlling the senate : They have only the power of accus- ing, and appealing to the people. It is necessary, likewise, to prevent both combination and division in the thousand magistrates. This is done sufficiently by the separation of places and interests. But lest that should not be sufficient, their dependence on the 10,000 for their elections, serves to the same purpose. Nor is that all: For the 10,000 may resume the power when- ever they please; and not only when they all please, but when any five of a hundred please, which will happen upon the very first suspicion of a separate interest. The 10,000 are too large a body either to unite or divide, ex- cept when they meet in one place, and fall under the guidance of ambitious leaders. Not to mention their annual election, by the whole body of the people, that are of any consideration. A small commonwealth is the happiest government in the world within itself, because every thing lies under the eye of the rulers: But it may be subdued by great force from without. This scheme seems to have all the advantages both of a great and a little commonwealth. Every county-law may be annulled either by the senate or another county; because that shows an opposition of interest: In which case no part ought to decide for itself. The matter must be referred to the whole, which Will best determine what agrees with general interest. As to the clergy and militia, the reasons of these orders are obvious. Without the dependence of the clergy on the civil 518 ESSAY XVI. magistrates, and without a militia, it is in vain to think that any free government will ever have security or stability. In many governments, the inferior magistrates have no re- wards but what arise from their ambition, vanity, or public spi- rit. The salaries of the French judges amount not to the in- terest of the sums they pay for their offices. The Dutch burgo-masters have little more immediate profit than the Eng- lish justices of peace, or the members of the house of commons formerly. But lest any should suspect, that this would beget neg- ligence in the ail ministration (which is little to be feared, consi- dering tlie natural ambition of mankind,) let the magistrates have competent salaries. The senators have access to so many honourable and lucrative offices, that their attendance needs not be bought. There is little attendance required of the re- presentatives. That the foregoing plan of government is practicable, no one can doubt, who considers the resemblance that it bears to the commonwealth of the United Provinces, a wise and renowned government. The alterations in the present scheme seem all evidently for the better. 1. The representation is more equal. 2. The unlimited power of the burgo-masters in the towns, which forms a perfect aristocracy in the Dutch commonwealth, is corrected by a well-tempered democracy, in giving to the people the annual election of the county representatives. 3. The negative, which every province and town has upon the whole body of the Dutch republic, with regard to alliances, peace and war, and the imposition of taxes, is here removed. 4. The counties, in the present plan, are not so independent of each other, nor do they form separate bodies so much as the seven provinces ; where the jealousy and envy of the smaller provinces and towns against the greater, particularly Holland and Amsterdam, have frequently disturbed the government. 5. Larger powers, though of the safest kind, are intrusted to the senate than the States-General possess ; by which means, IDEA QF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. the former may become more expeditious, and secret in their resolutions, than it is possible for the latter. The chief alterations that could he made on the British go- vernment, in order to bring it to the most perfect model of limited monarchy, seem to be the following. First, The plan of Cromwell's parliament ought to be restored, by making the representation equal, and by allowing none to vote in the coun- ty elections who possess not a property of 200 pounds value. Secondly, As such a house of Commons would be too weighty for a frail house of Lords, like the present, the Bishops and Scotch Peers ought to be removed : The number of the upper house ought to be raised to three or four hundred : Their seats not hereditary, but during life : They ought to have the elec- tion of their own members; and no commoner should be allow- ed to refuse a seat that was offered him. By this means the house of Lords would consist entirely of the men of chief credit, abilities, and interest in the nation ; and every turbulent lea- der in the house of Commons might be taken off, and connected by interest with the house of Peers. Such an aristocracy would be an excellent barrier both to the monarchy and against it. At present, the balance of our government depends in some mea- sure on the abilities and behaviour of the sovereign ; which a"e variable and uncertain circumstances. This plan of limited monarchy, however correcte dseems still liable to three great inconveniences. First, It removes not entirely, though it may soften, the parties of court and country. Secondly, The king's personal character must still have great in- fluence on the government. Thirdly, The sword h in the hands of a single person who will always ne^ectto discipline the mili- tia, in onder to have a pretence for keeping up a standing army. We shall conclude this subject, with observing the fal°ehood of the common opinion, tt at no large state, such as Franje or Great Britain, could ever be modelled into a commonwealth, 52.Q ESSAY XVI. but that such a form of government can only take place in a city or small territory. The contrary seems probable. Though it is more difficult to form a republican government in an exten- sive country than in a city; there is more facility, when once it is formed, of preserving it steady and uniform, without tumult and faction. It is not easy for the distant parts of a large state to combine in any plan of free government; but they easily con- spire in the esteem and reverence for a single person, who, by means of this popular favour, may seize the power, and forcing the more obstinate to submit, may establish a monarchical go- vernment. On the other hand, a city readily concurs in the same notions of government, the natural equality of property favours liberty, and the nearness of habitation enables the citizens mutu- ally to assist each other. Even under absolute princes, the subordinate government of cities is commonly republican; while that of counties and provinces is monarchical. But these same circumstances, which facilitate the erection of commonwealths in cities, render their constitution more frail and uncertain. Democracies are turbulent. For however the people may be separated or divided into small parties, either in their votes or elections; their near habitation in a city will always make the force of popular tides and currents very sensible. Aristocra- cies are better adapted for peace and order, and accordingly were most admired by ancient writers; but they are jealous and ofpressive. In a large government, which is modelled with misterly skill, there is compass and room enough to refine the democracy, from the lower people, who may be admitted into the first elections or first concoction of the commonwealth, to the higher magistrates, who direct all the movements. At the same time, the parts are so distant and remote, that it is very difficult, either by intrigue, prejudice, or passion, to hurry them into any measures against the public interest. It is needless to enquire, whether such a government would be immortal. I allow the justness of the poet's exclamation on the endless projects of human race, Man and for ever ! The IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 521 world itself probaly is not immoral. Such consuming plagues may arise as would leave even a perfect government a week prey to its neighbours. We know not to what length enthu- siasm, or other extraordinary movements of the human mind, may transport men, to the neglect of all order and public good. Where difference of interest is removed, whimsical and unaccountable factions often arise, from personal favour or en- mity. Perhaps, rust may grow to the springs of the most accu- rute political machine, and disorder its motions. Lastly, ex- tensive conquests, when pursued, must be the ruin of every free government; and of the more perfect eovernments sooner than of the imperfect; because of the very advantages which the former possess above the latter. And though such a state ought to establish a fundamental law against conquests ; yet republics have ambition as well as individuals, and present interest makes men forgetful of their posterity. It is a sufficient incitement to human endeavours, that such a government would flourish for many a?es : without pretending to bestow, on any work of man, that immortality, which the Almighty seems to have refus- ed to his own productions. * Mr. Hume's idea of a perfect Commonwealth, like all that have heretofore been published, is very defective. The authors have entirely lost sight of the most important part of a man—his usefulness in the com- munity. No one will think that the value of a man in society, is in pro- portion to his wealth: or that numbers constitute wealth ; for it is daily seen the rich become the greatest drones, and the most worthless people the most numerous. Although all men will differ, probably, as much about the degree of each other's utility, as they have about the standard of taste; yet, as certainly as that they have agreed that Homer and Virgil are great poets, they, will agree that one man is more serviceable than another: They can make sufficient approaches to the truth, for useful purposes. Where is the man who will presume to declare, that the part of the community occupied in those low employments, which'eep the mind in total ignorance, can be qualified to judge of the expediency of a poli- tical measure ? It is a mockery, to call on such to decide -. yet reason T 3 522 ESSAY XVI. dictates that, whatever may be the poverty or condition of such men, no laws should be made respecting them, without their having a voice. The plan which presents itself to my mind, as best calculated to insure prosperity to the public; to reduce the influence of the wealthy, who cease to be active and useful; to keep the ignorant in their proper sphere; and to raise the useful to their standing in the government, is the following: Let the country be divided into small districts of population, not ex- ceeding one thousand voters or free men: let each hundred elect one of their number; and the ten so elected to be sworn judges, free from favor or prejudice: Let them meet; and, choosing an eleventh to decide on equal divisions, they are to fix a scale of utility from one to twenty de- grees—the most useful in the community to have twenty votes; the most indifferent but one vote; the intermediate stages to be filled up by the judges, according to their honest belief of tlie relative value of the exer- tions of each citizen. There can be no doubt, but that such judges would with all men agree, that the drunken carman was not to have as many votes; or, in other words, was not as useful as an attentive ingenious mechanic : that the mechanic was not as useful as the merchant, who relieved the wants of his country, by converting what could be spared into the superfluities of other countries: They would say, that the professional man of science, who was active in his business, was entitled to more weight than the recluse: In short they would decide, that one sphere was superior to another— though the lowest be necessary. And although they might err in their decisions, more justice would come from them than from the monstrous system—giving to the fool and the knave the weight of the useful. After determining the scale every two or three years, of each man's useful activity, the people would assemble; and, according to their rate, vote for legislators : And if any possible contrivance could secure proper representatives, assuredly this would. According to this plan, the only chance of continuing in office, and in rank, would be through the best possible channel, usefulness to the com- munity. In addition, what a powerful stimulus would it prove, to en- crease the valuable labours of every citizen ? Would the indolent rich see themselves in inferior stations to the industrious poor ? The Spartan IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 523 and the Christian age would speedily appear in perfection: to promote one's self, by promoting or doing good to the public, being the achme of human greatness. Such a government would for ever be the government of the thinking part of the people; having in its nature the principles of as ct ernal life, as can be had by human institutions. E. ESSAY ON THE LAWS OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. THE philosophers and common people agree, that nature,, in all her works, observes a remarkable uniformity; operat- ing by established rules in every thing visible. No where the man of sense will say, is chance permitted to wheel her blind events at random: 'Tis all system—all order—all regulated events. No one can fail having these general reflections, on view- ing the innumerable bodies and operations around us. We behold regularity, from the arrangement of the stars, to the direction of water courses : From the deposit of the strata of the earth, to the formation of plants. Above all, uniform- ity is most striking in animals: They breathe, they eat, they sleep, by rules inconsiderably varied. Nevertheless, there is not a man who does not at all times believe, that ir- regularities occur; and most, in the most important objecti of creation. " Happiness, our being's end and aim," is sought after with as much solicitude and hope of success, as pain is avoided with unceasing industry. The excitement of plea- sure and the encountering of pain, present themselves to every observing mind, as the most important feature in ani- mal existence. How then men can imagine, that in the most important points, there are irregularities; no laws to go- vern ; no fixed rules for pleasure and pain; is as remarkable as it is universal: It becomes the more extraordinary, as every man will declare, that, in defiance of every effort, he has 526 ESSAY had to encounter pains at one time; and, at another, has partaken of unexpected pleasure : He will declare, that w ith whatever care he may have laid up in store for future en- joyment, that he has been disappointed; his joys expiring even with a succession of the most probable sources. In order to understand this subject, and to settle the fact of the universal belief in the inequalities of pleasure and pain, I would refer to the excitements in our bosom on sur- veying the supposed good or bad fortune of othors. If we be- lieved, that the persons, with whose glories or disasters we sympathized, were under the operation of feelings common to all mankind; we should not—would not be so highly ex- cited : we would never weep over the sorrows of the dead, or rejoice at the successes of the oppressed. The maiming and execution of the martyrs to a peaceful religion: Men represented to have done no harm ; who strove to teach others the way to happiness on earth, and to the Heaven of the other world: To find these men, without giving a provoking word, conducted to prison; denied all the comforts of the body: then to have their limbs dismembered, their flesh torn with heated instruments; and their mangled bodies, with sufficient life for sensation, tied to stakes and slowly burnt 'till death! have produced almost the universal excitement of the deepest concern and sorrow. Next, ac- counts of little babes: Some cruelly burnt to death: Others with their bodies ulcerated; and shewing, by their incessant cries, the agony they endure: Others lost and left to sava- ges ; in vain saying, to appease the relentless destroyer, as wont to tell the parent, «I will be good:" Others cling- ing to the breast of the frozen mother, in vain sucking for sustenance, 'till the pains of hunger and cold gradually pro- duce the fatal exhaustion! These I urge, with the innume- rable, various accounts of particular distress, which so deep- ON THE LAWS OF PLASURE AND PALY. 527 ly affect mankind, unquestionably prove that the impression exists that there is unequal suffering. With equal certainty, the belief prevails that some per- sons have an unusual proportion of happiness. Some are represented as enjoying a perfect round of pleasure: One joy to another rapidly succeeding. They have princely es- tates, and uncontrouled power, securing the love and res- pect of all who approach: Every sense is gratified in rapid succession : With a healthy and prosperous family, and the most entertaining society at agreeable intervals: In short many are represented as too happy to have an encrease of pleasures on earth. In most of the novels acceptable to the public taste, the characters are represented in the extremes of felicity or misery. Moreover, every man in the community will tell of some case of perfect wretchedness : In like manner all speak of characters deemed in enviable enjoyment. With these facts before us, I do not comprehend how any one can deny the truth of the statement, that men believe in the in- equalities of the distribution of pleasure and pain* Philosophers and common men probably never committed a greater error, than in entertaining this belief. It is inter- woven in every man's mind ; yet, most obviously, it is an error. After glancing at the operations of God, can a ra- tional mind come to the conclusion—that the chief desires of our life, to receive pleasure and avoid pain, are left to ca- price—-to varying rule : That the creator of all, would give to one of thi' same kind a greater pleasure or greater mise- ry than another. The father who gives to one of his chil- dren, that which a just equality requires should be distribut- ed among the whole, is universally condemned. The par 528 ESSAY tial views of narrow sighted man, prompt him even to com- plain of the distribution of the heavenly father, when con- spicuous griefs assail his mind. Why are these afflictions I is uttered in dissatisfied spirit, by almost every being en- countering torments. I have discovered the great law upon this subject, which dispels the darkness that has so long over-shadowed it; which is in unison with all the operations of God, that pro- claim him a being of intelligence, of benevolence, and of impartiality. For the ready comprehension of the law, regulating the pleasures and pains of the mind, I will refer to the laws of the actions of our body. The great Dr. Brown has incon- trovertibly established, that the life, the actions of our body, called excitement, are produced by stimulants acting upon the excitability of the system : That, for animal life to be in perfect state, excitement and excitability should be equal: That, when excitement is too high, the excitability is ex- hausted ; and that the healthy state can only be produced by the abatement of the excitement, so that the excita- bility shall return to its proper standard. In like man- ner, when excitement is too lowr the excitability is ac- cumulated, and requires exhaustion for the restoration of health. The power of exhausting excitement and excitabi- lity in excesses, is in the constitution ; often to be aided by art: never failing, however, to be done perfectly when health is restored. The doctrine is illustrated, by suppos- ing a scale of an hundred degrees of excitement, and ano- ther of excitability; perfect health in the middle: Thus, Excitement, 1,10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100. Excitability, 100, 90, 80, 70, 60, 50, 40, 30, 20, 10, 1. ON THE LAWS OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 529 Healthy action being, when excitement and excitability are all fifty, when there is a variation in one the other is affect- ed according to the degrees in the scale. The one, as be- fore remarked, is never higher or lower without returning to the middle; when health is restored. This rule, as law of the body, I extend somewhat to the mind, in its pleasurable and painful excitements. Every mind has a capacity for pleasurable feeling; and the feeling, when indulged, exhausts this capacity or excit- ability, in proportion to the degree of indulgence. The restoration of this excitability is a retrogade motion; which is called pain. To make the idea more clear and familiar, I shall define pain the counter-action of pleasure. Accordingly, when our intellect has the excitement of pleasure, to any fixed degree, we have afterwards a counter- action of pain corresponding precisely : When we have in- dulged in the excesses of joy, we have to pass through the excesses of pain, 'till the mind is restored to its natural equi- librium. This is in conformity to a remark of the oldest philosophers, that those readily excited to greatest happi- ness are liable to greatest depressions or sufferings. Every one remarks that the cold insensible man of phlegm, is never troubled with the pains of those devoted to mirth. This simple theory, is nothing but an induction from facts. I had scarcely arrived to manhood, before I was im- pressed with its truth. In every situation where pleasure was enjoyed, in defiance of every effort, pains equal in de- gree, sooner or later, would ensue. I could only preserve my mind from suffering, by preserving it from the opera- tion of pleasure: When preserved from pleasure, no occur- rences could excite one painful feeling. U 530 ESSAY I had no sooner established, in my own case, the truth of iii is law of pleasure and pain ; than it presented itself, as the only means of explaining the innumerable variety and sources of misery in others : It unfolded the whole secret of suffering; establishing the uniformity of the ways of provi- dence : It ascribed to system and order, what had been marked by confusion and folly. At one time a man shall have great pleasure from events, which another time he will view with indifference : At ano- ther time with great pain. In some cases, the most trivial causes excite an agony of feeling: In others, sources, we would believe, of infernal pains are received with calm indif- ference. The martyr has gone coolly to the flames, and viewed, unmoved, the bursting of his limbs 'till death re- leased him : Men have been flogged with hundreds of stripes; as king for a few more, to relieve some pleasurable excitement: Others have had pleasure, from feeling the scales of their sores; from picking the vermin from their bodies: Most monstrous of all, from destroying the livos of brother man ! To conclude, what is it that has not pro- duced pleasure ? And what is it, to which pain has not been ascribed. The answer, on an extended survey of mankind, is that there is nothing. The explanation of this phenomena is easy. When plea- sure has existed, the mind having its excitability to be re- stored, any cause that it may seize hold of is considered as the source of the pain; so that if some event did not occur as the supposed cause, the uneasiness would be felt at ap- prehensions of the stars, the colour of the clouds, or any thing as irrelevant. On the other hand, when the coun- ter-action to pain has taken place; when the mind has no farther retrogade operation to encounter for its preceding ON THE LAWS OF P1EASURE AND PAIN. 531 pleasures—let what will ensue—no pain can be produced. Such the powers of the constitution—such the eternal opera- tion of the law—that mutilation, mangling, consignment to the flames, are encountered with insensibility; sometimes with an intermixture of pleasure and pain, in obvious— marked—proportion. The ascertainment of truth, the main object of all for honest inquiry, is not the only gain by the discovery of this great law of feeling: It leads to important practical benefits. We learn from it, that, by refraining from immoderate mirth, we guard against immoderate pains. By preserving the equilibrium of the mind, that is keeping it, fixed in its great operations in pursuit of knowledge, never allowing it to be ruffled with the trifling excitements of pleasure, we perfect- ly insure our total exemption from every pang. It teaches us, that, having indulged in pleasure, pain will inevitably ensue; and, therefore, that when under its operation, we should endure whatever may happen with perfect resignation. Our Saviour was never seen to smile. Many philosor- pliers and saints have spent years without one pleasurable laugh. Such gravity comports with the dignity of intel- lectual beings, while it insures an insensibility to sup- posed sufferings : Our commiseration may cease for all be- ings in torture: The law of nature cannot be violated; " The Lord tempers the shorn lamb to. the winds," not the winds to the shorn lamb, The greatest benefit to be derived from the discovery of the laws of feeling, is in our conduct to criminals or of. fenders against the public. In early ages it was customary to deliver offenders to the party injured, that they might be punished. The severity with which they were treated caused the discontinuance of this practice. To hang and 532 ESSAY mutilate the bodies of men, is now consigned to the public officers of justice. The object of such inflictions, is stated not to take revenge, but to operate in deterring others from the commission of similar offences. Governments the most enlightened now7 prefer attempting the improvement of the criminals, by keeping them at hard labour in the public work-houses, called Penitentiaries. But this mode is as im- proper as the preceding; for as certainly as that crimes are most frequently committed, where public exhibitions of pun- ishment are most common, so certainly do those returning from the penitentiary return to their vicious habits. As a punishment to the criminal it is unavailing : Habit recon- ciles him to his circumstances : He becomes attached to the very thing designed for his affliction. The punishment of a man, whatever may have been his crime, is unnecessary: Nothing can prevent his having pains in proportion to his pleasures ; no art can give him sensibility, to suffer more than the share of misery corres- ponding to preceding enjoyment. Cease then with tortures, infuriated man ! The greatest pain is in your angry mind ! " Viper you bite against a file." The natural—the humane—the christian course is, when an injury is done, let the offender make reparation to the in- jured party. There should be but one motive in the proceed- ings against him ; and that should be utility to the injured. Suppose a brother—a husband—to have been murdered; A poor woman to have had imposed upon her forged bills, or any property to have been stolen; the criminal should be made to work for the good of the injured party ; he should become their property, in the public penitentiary, according to rules to be settled in the laws. Instead of a penitentiary, it should be called a house of reparation. ON THE LAWS OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 533 The influence of such a system would eventuate in the im- provement of all mankind. The prospect of having to labour for the family of the murdered man, would arrest the mur- derer ! the thief would find that he could gain more by work- ing for himself, than by working in reparation for the one defrauded ? Thus interest would clearly lead to the aban- donment of vice; and, in the restoration of the golden age of universal virtue, would proclaim anew the majesty of man. NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. NOTE [A], p. 49. I HAVE taken it for granted, according to the supposition of Machia- vel, that the ancient Persians had no nobility; though there is reason to suspect, that the Florentine secretary, who seems to have been better acquainted with the Roman than the Greek authors, was mistaken in this particular. The more ancient Persians, whose manners are described by Xenophon, were a free people, and had nobility. Their omotimoi were preserved even after the extending of their conquests and the consequent change of tlieir government. Arrian mentions them in Darics's time, De exped. Alex. lib. ii. Historians also speak often of the persons in command as men of family. Tygranes, who was general of the Medes under Xerxes, was of the race of Achmjenes. Herod, lib. vii. cap. 62. Artach;eas, who directed the cutting of the canal about mount Athos, was of the same family. Id. cap. 117. Megabtzus was one of the seven eminent Persians who conspired against the Magi. His son, Zopyrus, was in the highest command under Darius, and delivered Babylon to him. His grandson, Megabtzus, commanded the army, defeated at Marathon. His great- grandson, Zopyrus, was also eminent, and was banished Persia. Herod. lib. iii. Thcc. lib. i. Rosaces, who commanded an army in Egypt under Artaxerxes, was also descended from one of the seven conspirators, Diod. Sic. lib. xvi. Agesilaus, in Xenophon, Hist. Grjec. lib. iv. being desirous of making a marriage betwixt king Cotys his ally, and the daughter of Spithuidatxs, a Persian of rank, who had deserted to him, first asks Cotts what family Spithridates is of. One of the most consi- derable in Persia, says Cotys. Artjecs, when offered the sovereignty bf Clearchus and the ten thousand Greeks, refused it as of too low a rank, 536 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. and said, that so many eminent Persians would never endure his rule. Id. de exped. lib. ii. Some of the families descended from the seven Per- sians above-mentioned remained during all Alexander's successors ; and Mithridateb, in Antiochus's time, is said by Poltbius to be descended from one of them, lib. v. cap. 43. 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, k'. lib. vii. Diodorus Sicclds says 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 extir- pate all nobility, and confound all ranks and orders. It left men who were still great, by themselves and their family, independent of their of- fice 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, however doubtful its application to the present case. NOTE [B], p. 72. By that influence of the cro-wn, which I would justify, I mean only that which arises from the offices and honours that are 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 corrupt- ed, is always infamous under all ministers, and is to be regarded as a shameless prostitution. Polybius justly esteems the pecuniary influence of the senate and censors to be one of the regular and constitutional weights which preserved the balance of the Roman government. Lib. vi. cap. 15. NOTE [C], p. 87. 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 DcTcn are at present The laws against external superstition, amongst the Romans, were as an- cient as the time of the twelve tables; and the Jews as well as the Chris- tians were sometimes punished by them; though, in general, these laws were not rigorously executed. Immediately after the conquest of Gaul, they forbade all but the natives to be initiated into the religion of the Druids ; and this was a kind of persecution. In about a century after thit conquest, the emperor, Claudius, quite abolished that superstition NOTES TO THE VIRST VOLUME 537 by penal laws ; which would have been a very grievous persecution, if the imitation of the Roman manners had not, before-hand, weaned the Gauls from their ancient prejudices. Suetonius in vita Clacdii. Pliny ascribes the abolition of the Druidical superstitions to Tiberius, probably because that emperor had taken some steps towards restrianing them (lib. xxx. cap. i.) This is an instance of the usual caution and moderation of the Romans in such cases ; and very different from tlieir violent and sanguinary method of treating the Christians. Hence we may entertain a suspicion, that those furious persecutions of Christianity were in some measure owing to the imprudent zeal and bigotry of the first propagators of that sect; and Ecclesiastical history affords us many reasons to confirm this suspicion. NOTE [D], p. 126. THE orators formed the taste of the Athenian people, not the people of the orators. Gorgias Leontinus was very taken with them, till they became acquainted with a better manner. His figures of speech, says Diodorus Siculus, which are now despised, had a great effect upon the audience. Lib. xii. page 106. ex editione Rhod. It is in vain ^therefore for modern orators to plead the taste of their hearers as an apology for their lame performances. It would be strange prejudice in favour of an- tiquity, not to allow a British parliament to be naturally superior in judgment and delicacy to an Athenian mob. NOTE [E], p. 141. IF it be asked how we can reconcile to the foregoing principles the happiness, riches, and good police of the Chinese, who have always been governed by a monarch, and can scarcely form an idea of a free govern- ment ; I would answer, that though the Chinese government be a pure monarchy, it is not, properly speaking, absolute. This proceeds from a peculiarity in the situation of that country : They have no neighbours, except the Tartars, from whom they were, in some measure, secured, at least seemed to be secured, by their famous wall, and by the great su- periority 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 general insurrection in countries so extremely populous. The sword, therefore, may proper- ly be said to be always in the hands of the people, which is a sufficient restraint upon the monarch, and obliges him to lay his mandarins or go- X 3 538 NOTES TO THE FIRST \QLUM£. vernors of provinces under the restraint of general laws, in order to pre- vent those rebellions, which we learn from history to have been so fre- quent and dangerous in that government. Perhaps, a pure monarchy of this kindj were it fitted for defence against foreign enemies, would be the best of all governments, as having both the tranquillity attending kingly power, and tlie moderation and liberty of popular assemblies. NOTE [F], p. 186. WERE I not afraid of appearing too philosophical, I should remind my reader of that famous doctrine, supposed to be fully proved in modern 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, taV es 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 pain- ters ever be less regarded or esteemed ? There is a sufficient uniformity in the senses and feelings of mankind, to make all these qualities the ob- jects of art and reasoning, and to have the greatest influence on life and manners. And as it is certain, that the discovery above-mentioned in natural philosophy, makes no alteration on action and conduct; why should a like discovery in moral philosophy make any alteration ? NOTE [G], p. 197. THE 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 tran- quillize and soften all the passions. Philosophy greedily seizes these, studies them, weighs them, commits them to the memory, and familiari- zes them to the mind : And their influence on tempers, which are thought- ful, gentle, and moderate, may be considerable. But what is their in- fluence 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, by which it may en- tertain and nourish itself. Here are a few examples of such philosophical reflections. 1. Is'it not certain, that every condition has concealed ills ? Then why envy any body. NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 539 2. Every one has known ills ; and there is a compensation throughout. 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 and humour all. The rest of little consequence, except these be affected. 5. How many other good things have I ? Then why be vexed for one ill ? 6. How many are happy in the condition of which I complain ? How many envy me ? 7. Every good must be paid for : Fortune by labour, favour by flattery. 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 objects ; houses, gardens, equipage, &c. How many fine objects does nature offer to every one without expence ? If enjoyed, sufficient. If not: Seethe, effect of custom or of temper, which would soon take off the relish of the riches. 12. I desire fame. Let this occur : If I act well, I shall have the es- teem of all my acquaintance. And what is all the rest to roe? These reflections are so obvious, that it is a wonder they occur not to every man : So convincing, that it is a wonder they persuade not every man. But perhaps they do occur to and persuade most men ; when they consider human life, by a general and calm survey : But where any . 540 NOTES TO TIIF. FIRST VOLUME. real, affecting incident happens ; when passion is awakened, fancy agi- tated, 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 yourself by a frequent perusal of the entertaining moralists : Have recourse to the learning of Plutarch, the imagination of Lucian, the eloquence of Cice- ro, the wit of Seneca, the gaiety of Montaigne, the sublimity of Shaites- bcry. Moral precepts, so couched, strike deep, and fortify the mind against the illusions of passion. But trust not altogether to external aid : By habit and study acquire that philosophical temper which both gives force to reflection, and by rendering a great part of your happiness, independent, takes off the edge from all disorderly passions, and tran- quillizes 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. NOTE [H], p. 218. IT is a saying ofMENANDER. Men apud Stob.uum. "It is not in the power even of God to make a polite soldier." The contrary observation with regard to the manners of soldiers takes place in our days. This seems to me a presumption, that the ancients owed all their refinement and civility to books and study; for which, indeed a soldier's life is not so well calcu- lated. Company and the world is their sphere. And if there be any politeness to be learned from company, they will certainly have a consi- derable share of it. NOTE [I], p. 219. THOUGH all mankind have a strong propensity to religion at certain times and in certain dispositions; yet are there few or none, who have it to that degree, and with that constancy, which is requisite to support the character of this profession. It must, therefore, happen, that clergymen, being drawn from die common mass of mankind, as people are to other employments, by the views of profit, the greater "part, though no atheists or free-thinkers, will find it necessary, on particular occasions, to feign more devotion than they are, at that time, possessed of, and to maintain the appearance of fervour and seriousness, even when jaded with tlie ex- ercises of their religion, or when they have their minds engaged in the common occupations of life. They must not, like the rest of the world, give scope to their natural movement and sentiments: They must set a NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 541 guard over their looks and words and actions: And in order to support the veneration paid them by the multitude, they must not only keep a remark- able reserve, but must promote the spirit of superstition, by a continued grimace and hypocrisy. This dissimulation often destroysthe candor and ingenuity of their temper, and makes an irreparable breach in their cha- racter. If by chance any of them be possessed of a temper more susceptible of devotion than usual, so that he has but little occasion for hypocrisy to sup- port the character of his profession; it is so natural for him to over-rate this advantage, and to think that it atones for every violation of morality, that frequently he is not more virtuous than the hypocrite. And though few dare openly avow those exploded opinions, that every thing is latofullo the saints, and that they alone have property in their goods ,■ yet may we ob- serve, that these principles lurk in every bosom, and represent a zeal for religious observances as so great a merit, that it may compensate for many vices and enormities. This observation is so common, that all prudent men are on their guard, when they meet with any extraordinary appear- ance of religion; though at the same time, they confess, that there are many exceptions to this general rule, and that probity and superstition, or even probity and fanaticism, are not altogether and in every instance in- compatible. Most men are ambitious; but the ambition of other men may common- ly be satisfied, by excelling in their particular profession, and thereby pro- moting the interests of society. The ambition of the clergy can often be satisfied only by promoting ignorance and superstition and implicit faith and pious frauds. And having got what Archimedes only wanted, (name- ly, another world, on which he could fix his engines) no wonder they move this world at their pleasure. Most men have an overweening conceit of themselves; but these have a peculiar temptation to that vice, who are regarded with such veneration, and are even deemed sacred, by the ignorant multitude. Most men are apt to bear a particular regard for members of their own profession; but as a lawyer, or physician, or merchant, does, each of them, follow out his business apart, the interests of men of these professions are not so closely united as the interests of clergymen of the same religion where the whole body gains by the veneration, paid to their common U nets, and by the suppression of antagonists. 542 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. Few men can bear contradiction with patience ; but the clergy too of- ten proceed even to a degree of fury on this head : Because all their credit and livelihood depend upon the belief, which their opinions meet with; and they alone pretend to a divine and supernatural authority, or have any colour for representing their antagonists as impious and prophane. The Odium Theologicum, or Theological Hatred, is noted even to a pro- verb, and means that degree of rancour, which is the most furious and im- placable. Revenge is a natural passion to mankind; but seems to reign with the greatest force in priests and women : Because, being deprived of the im- mediate exertion of anger, in violence and combat, they are apt to fancy themselves despised on that account; and their pride supports their vin- dictive disposition. * Thus many of the vices of human nature are, by fixed moral causes, in- flamed in that profession; and though several individuals escape the con- tagion, yet all wise governments will be on their guard against the at- tempts of a society, who will for ever combine into one faction, and while it acts as a society, will for ever be actuated by ambition, pride, revenge, and a persecuting spirit. The temper of religion is grave and serious; and this is the character required of priests, which confines them to strict rules of decency, and commonly prevents irregularity and intemperance amongst them. The gaiety, much less the excesses of pleasure, is not permitted in that body; and this virtue is, perhaps, the only one which they owe to their profes- sion. In religions, indeed, founded on speculative principles, and where public discourses make apart of religious service, it may also be supposed that the clergy will have a considerable share in the learning of the times; though it is certain that their taste in eloquence will always be greater than their proficiency in reasoning and philosophy. But whoever posses- ses the other noble virtues of humanity, meekness, and moderation, as very many of them, no doubt, do, is beholden for them to nature or reflec- tion, not to the genius of his calling. It was no bad expedient in the old Romans, for preventing the strong effect of the priestly character, to make h a law that no one should be re- ceived into the sacerdotal office, till he was past fifty years of age, Dion. ^ Hal. lib. i. The living a layman till that age, it is presumed, would be able to fix the character. NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 543 NOTE [K.] p. 219. C-ESAR (de Bello Gallico, lib. i.) says, that the Gallic horses were very good; the German very bad. We find in lib. vii. that he was obliged to remount some German cavalry with Gallic horses. At pre- sent, no part of Europe has so bad horses of all kinds as France : But Germany abounds with excellent war horses. This may beget a little suspicion, that even animals depend not on the climate ; but on the different breeds, and on the skill and care in rearing them. The north of England abounds in the best horses of all kinds which are per- haps in the world. In the neighbouring counties, north side of the Tweed, no good horses of any kind are to be met with. Strabo, lib ii. rejects, in a great measure, the influence of climates upon men. All is custom and education, says he. It is not from nature, that the Athenians are learned, the Lacedemonians ignorant, and the Thebans too, who are still nearer neighbours to the former. Even the difference of animals, he adds, depends not on climate. NOTE [L], p. 222. A SMALL sect or society amidst a greater are commonly most regular in their morals; because they are more remarked, and the faults of indi- viduals draw dishonour on the whole. The only exception to this rule is, when the superstition and prejudices of the large society are so strong as to throw an infamy on the smaller society, independent of their morals. For in that case, having no character either to save or gain, they become careless of their behaviour, except among themselves. NOTE [M], p. 225. I AM apt to suspect the negroes to be naturally inferior to the whites. There scarcely ever was a civilized nation of that complexion, nor even any individual eminent either in action or speculation. No ingenious manufactures amongst them, no arts, no sciences. On the other hand, the most rude and barbarous of the whites, such as the ancient Ger- mans, the present Tartars, have still something eminent about them, in their valour, form of government, or some other particular. Such a uniform and constant difference could not happen, in so many countries and ages, if nature had not made an original distinction between these breeds of men. Not to mention our colonies, there are Negroe slaves dispersed all over Europe, of whom none ever discovered any symptoms 544 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUMh. of ingenuity ; though low people, without education, will start up among us, and distinguish themselves in every profession. In Jamaica, indeed, they talk of one negroe as a man of parts and learning ; but it is likely he is admired for slender accomplishments, like a parrot, who speaks a few words plainly. NOTE [N], p. 237. PAINTERS make no scruple of representing distress and sorrow as well as any other,passion : But they seem not to dwell so much on these melancholy affections as the poets, who though they copy every motion of the human breast, yet pass quickly over the agreeable sentiments. A painter represents only one instant ; and if that be passionate enough, it is sure to affect and delight the spectator : But nothing can furnish to the poet a variety of scenes and incidents and sentiments, except distress, terror, or anxiety. Complete joy and satisfaction is attended with security, and leaves no farther room for action. NOTE [0], p. 272. THE more ancient Romans lived in perpetual war with all their neigh- bours : And in old Latin, the term hostis, expressed both a stranger and an enemy. This is remarked by Cicebo ; but by him is ascribed to the humanity of his ancestors, who softened, as much as possible, the deno- mination of an enemy, by calling him by the same appellation which sig- nified a stranger. De Off. lib. ii. It is however much more probable, from the manners of the times, that the ferocity of those people was so great as to make them regard all strangers as enemies, and call them by the same name. It is not, besides, consistent with the most common max- ims of policy or of nature, that any state should regard its public enemies with a friendly eye, or preserve any such sentiments for them as the Ro- man orator would ascribe to his ancestors. Not to mention, that the early Romans really exercised piracy, as we learn from their first treaties with Carthage, preserved by Polybius, lib. iii. and consequently, like the Sallee and Algerinf. rovers, were actually at war with most nations, and a stranger and an enemy were with them almost synonimous. NOTE [P], p. 299. A PRIVATE soldier in the Roman infantry had a denarius a day, some- what less than eightpence. The Roman emperors had commonly 25 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 545 legions in pay, which allowing 5000 men to a legion, makes 125,000. Tacit. Ann. lib. iv. It is true, there were also auxiliaries to die legions ; but their numbers are uncertain, as well as their pay. To consider only the legionaries, the pay of the private men could not exceed 1,600,000 pounds. Now, the parliament in the last war commonly allowed for the fleet 2,500,000. We have therefore 900,000 over for the officers and other expences of the Roman legions. There seem to have been but few officers in the Roman armies, in comparison of what are employed in all our modern troops, except some Swiss corps. And these officers had very small pay : A centurion, for instance, only double a common soldier. And as the soldiers from their pay (Tacit. Ann. lib. i.) bought their own clothes, arms, tents, and baggage ; th is must also diminish considerably the other charges of the army. So little expensive was that mighty go- vernment, and so easy was its yoke over the world. And, indeed, this is the more natural conclusion from the foregoing calculations. For money, after the conquest of Egypt, seems to have been nearly in as great plenty at Rome, at it is at present in the richest of the European kingdoms. NOTE [Q], p. 304. THESE facts I give upon the authority of Mons. du Tot in his Reflec- tions pohtiques, an author of reputation. Though I must confess, that the facts which he advances on other occasions, are often so suspicious, as to make his authority less in this matter. However, the general observation, that the augmenting of the money in France, does not at first proportionably augment the prices, is certainly just. By the by, this seems to be one of the best reasons which can be given, for a gradual and universal encrease of the denomination of money, though it has been entirely overlooked in all those volumes which have been written on that question by Melon, Du Tot, and Paris de Verney. Were all our money, for instance, recoined, and a penny's worth of silver taken from every shilling, the new shilling would probably purchase every thing that could have been bought by the old; the prices of every thing would thereby be insensibly diminished; foreign trade enlivened; and domestic industry, by the circulation of a great number of pounds and shillings, would receive some encrease and encouragement. In execut- ing such a project, it would be better to make a new shilling pass for 24 half-pence, in order to preserve the illusion, and make it be taken for the same. And as a recoinage of our silver begins to be requisite, by the continual wearing of our shillings and sixpences, it may be doubtful, Y3 ~> 546 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. whether we ought to imitate the example in King William's reign, when tlie dipt money was raised to the old standard. NOTE [R], p. 331. IT must carefully be remarked, that throughout this discourse, where- ver I speak of the level of money, I mean always its proportional level to the commodities, labour industry, and skill, which is in the several states. And I assert, that where these advantages are double, triple, quadruple, to what they are in the neighbouring states, the money infallibly will also be double, triple, quadruple. The only circumstance that can obstruct the exactness of these proportions, is the expence of transporting the com- modities from one place to another •, and this expence is sometimes une- qual. Thus the corn, cattle, cheese, butter, of Derbyshire, cannot draw the money of London, so much as the manufactures of London draw the money of Derbyshire. But this objection is only a seeming one : For so far as the transport of commodities is expensive, so far is the communication between the places obstructed and imperfect. NOTE [S], p. 378. I HAVE heard it has been computed, that all the creditors of the pub- lic, natives and foreigners, amount only to 17,000. These make a figure at present on their income; but in case of a public bankruptcy, would, in an instant, become the lowest, as well as the most wretched of the people. The dignity and authority of the landed gentry and nobility is much bet- ter rooted; and would render the contention very unequal, if ever we come to that extremity. One would incline to assign to this event a very near period, such as half a century, had not our fathers' prophecies of this kind been already found fallacious, by the duration of our public credit so much beyond all reasonable expectation. When the astrologers in France were every year foretelling the death of Henry IV. These fellows, says he, must be right at last. We shall, therefore, be more cautious than to assign any precise date; and shall content ourselves with pointing out the event in general. NOTE [T], p. 394. COLUMELLA says, lib. iii. cap. 8. that in . NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 561 little anarchy will soon bring them to the disposition. Honestly tell to each citizen the amount he must contribute to his government; and, if he find it oppressive, he will soon enquire into abuses, and rectify by choos- ing other agents. You will not thereby lead him into enterprises, which he does not fully weigh before the commencement. What an immense saving of blood and money would this have effected, if all nations had adopted the course before plunging in wars to gratify the few. As to the mode of ascertaining and collecting the taxes, it would not be very difficult. Let the inhabitants of small districts assemble at their house of justice ; and each swear the amount he believes himself to be worth, and the ordinary income from his personal services or labours. Upon this es- timate levy as much as is requisite, in any ratio to favour the poor. Some few might encounter the hazards of perjury; an evil not to be compared with the advantages of the fair—open course. Instead of the injurious at- tempts to restrain commerce in those articles the people find to their inte- rest to import, by your irregular and extraordinary levies; all business would settle in its natural level infinitely more advantageous for the pub- lic than any artificial state. E. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. A 4 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. ESSAYS, MORAL, POLITICAL, AND LITERARY. PART I. Essay Page Life of David Hume 19 I. Of the Delicacy of Taste and Passion 36 II. Of the Liberty of the Press 39 III. That Politics may be reduced to a Science 43 IV. Of the First Principles of Government 57 V. Of the Origin of Government 63 VI. Of the Independency of Parliament 69 VII. Whether the British Government inclines more to absolute Monarchy, or to a Republic 75 VIII. Of Parties in General 81 IX. Of the Parties of Great Britain 89 X. Of Superstition and Enthusiasm 97 XI. Of the Dignity or Meanness of Human Nature 103 XII. Of Civil Liberty 111 XIII. Of Eloquence 119 XIV. Of the Rise and Progress of the Arts and Sciences 131 XV. The Epicurean 157 XVI. The Stoic 165 XVII. The Platonist 175 XVIII. The Sceptic 179 XIX. Of Polygamy and Divorces 201 CONTENTS. Essay Page XX. Of Simplicity and Refinement in Writing 211 XXI. Of national Characters 217 XXII. Of Tragedy 233 XXIII. Of the Standard of Taste. 243 PART II. I. Of Commerce 267 II. Of Refinement in the Arts 287 III. Of Money 399 IV. Of Interest 313 V.' Of the Balance of Trade 325 VI. Of the Jealousy of Trade 343 VII. Of the Balance of Power 349 VIII. Of Taxes 359 IX. Of Public Credit 365 X. Of some Remarkable Customs 383 XI. Of the Populousness of Ancient Nations 393 XII. Of the Original Contract 461 XIII. Of Passive Obedience 483 XIV. Of the Coalition of Parties 487 XV. Of the Protestant Succession 495 XVI. Idea of a perfect Commonwealth 505 Essay on the Laws of Pleasure a»d Pain. 525 x9 « ** >x m I 2-70