ESSAYS 
MOKAI, POLITICAL, AND LITEKAKY 



DAVID HUME 



VOL. I. 



TRINTED BY 

kiottiswoodb and co., nkw-stiuckt square 

LONDON 



ESSAYS 



V 



MORAL, POLITICAL, AND LITERAEY 



BY DAVID HUME 



EDITED, WITH PRELIMINARY DISSERTATIONS AND NOTES, BY 



T. H. GREEN 

LATE FELLOW AND TUTOR OF BALLIOL 
COLLEGE, OXFORD 



T. H. GROSE 

FELLOW AND* TUTOR OF QUHEN'S 
COLLEGE, OXFORD 



IN TWO VOLUMES 

Vol. I. 

NEW EDITION 



LONDON 
LONGMANS, GEEEN, AND CO. 

AND NEW YORK : 15 EAST 16 th STREET 
1889 



SEEN BY 
PRESERVATIOU 



DATE 






ADVERTISEMENT. 



Most of the principles, and reasonings, contained in this 
volume, were published in a work in three volumes, called 
A Treatise of Human Nature : A work which the Author had 
projected before he left College, and which he wrote and 
published not long after. But not finding it successful, he 
was sensible of his error in going to the press too early, and 
he cast the whole anew in the following pieces, where some 
negligences in his former reasoning and more in the expres- 
sion, are, he hopes, corrected. Yet several writers, who have 
honoured the Author's Philosophy with answers, have taken 
care to direct all their batteries against the juvenile work, 
which the Author never acknowledged, and have affected to 
triumph in any advantages, which, they imagined, they had 
obtained over it : A practice very contrary to all rules of 
candour and fair-dealing, and a strong instance of those 
polemical artifices, which a bigotted zeal thinks itself author- 
ised to employ. Henceforth, the Author desires, that the 
following Pieces may alone be regarded as containing his 
philosophical sentiments and principles. 1 

1 [For the history of this Advertisement, which was first published in the second 
volume of the posthumous Edition of 1777, see Vol. III. p. 38. Ed.] 



CONTENTS 



THE FIRST VOLUME. 



PAGE 

Mr Own Life 1 

Letter feom Adam Smith, LL.D., to William Steahan, Esq. 9 

History of the Editions . . 15 

List of Editions 85 



PART I. 

ESSAY PAGE 

I. Of the Delicacy of Taste and Passion , . . . . 91 

II. Of the Liberty of the Press 94 

OHL That Politics may be reduced to a Science 9& 

O IV. Of the First Principles of Government . . . . . 109 

O V. Of the Origin of Government . - 113 

VI. On the Independency of Parliament 117 

VII. Whether the British Government inclines more to Absolute 

Monarchy, or to a Republic 122 

_ VIH. Of Parties in General 127 \ 

IX. Of the Parties of Great Britain 133/ 

X. Of Superstition and Enthusiasm 144^ 

XI. Of the Dignity or Meanness of Human Nature . . . 150 

O XII. Of Civil Liberty ... 156 

-f XIH. Of Eloquence 163 

XIV. Of the Rise and Progress of the Arts and Sciences . . . 174 

O XV The Epicurean J ... 197 

OXVI. The Stoic . . 203 

O XVII. The Platonist 210 

OXVIII. The Sceptic 213 

XIX. Of Polygamy and Divorces 231 

XX. Of Simplicity and Refinement in Writing . . . . 240 

L Jf XXI. Of National Characters 244 

-EdJXXII. Of Tragedy . ' 258 

VCXIII. Of the Standard of Taste 266 

J 



Vlll CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 



PART II. 

BSSAY PAGH 

I. Of Comraeice . . 287 

II. Of Refinem rot in the Arts 299 

c-^^III. Of Money < 31 

TV. Of 'Ifiterest .y 320 

vx^V. Of the Balance of Trade |T. 330 

VI. Of the Jealousy of Trade 345 

VII. Of the Balance of Power 348 

VIII. Of Taxes .... * 356 

IX. Of Public Credit . 360 

X. Of Some Remarkable Customs 374 

XI. Of the Populousness of Ancient Nations .... 381 

O XII. Of the Original Contract 443 

XIII. Of Passive Obedience 460 

XIV. Of the Coalition of Parties . 464 

XV. Of the Protestant Succession 470 

O XVI. Idea of a Perfect Commonwealth 480 



\ 



\ 






MY OWN LIFE.' 



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 literary 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 ancestors 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 herself entirely to the rearing and edu- 
cating of her children. I passed through the ordinary course 
of education with success, 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 

1 [For the circumstances attending the publication of this autobiography, see p. 80. 
Ed.] 

VOL. III. B 



2 MY OWN LIFE. 

disposition, my sobriety, and my industry, gave my family a 
notion that the law was a proper profession for me ; but I 
found an unsurmoun table 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 devouring. 

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 
feeble trial for entering into a more active scene of life. In 
1734, I went to Bristol, with some recommendations to 
eminent merchants, 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 m ake__a, very rigid frugality supply 
my deficiency of fortune, to maintain unimpaired" my inde- 
pendency, and to regard every object as contemptible, except 
the improvement of my talents in literature. 

During my retreat in France, first at Eeims, 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 I published my Treatise, and immediately went down 
to my mother and my brother, who lived at his country 
house, and was employing himself very judiciously and suc- 
cessfully in the improvement of his fortune. 

Never literary attempt was more unfortunate than my 
Treatise of Human Nature. It fell dead-born from the press, 
without reaching such distinction, as even to excite a murmur 
among the zealots. But being naturally of a cheerful and 
sanguine temper, I very soon recovered the blow, and prose- 
cuted with great ardour my studies in the country. In 1 742 8 
I printed at Edinburgh the first part of my Essays : the work 
was favourably received, and soon made me entirely forget 
my former disappointment. 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 1745, 1 received a letter from the Marquis of Annandale, 
inviting me to come and live with him in England ; I found 

1 [Vol. i. and ii., in 1739. Vol. iii.in 1740. Ed.] 2 [Vol. i. in 1741. En.] 



MY OWN LIFE. 8 

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 accession 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 incursion on the coast of 
France. Next year, to wit, 1747, I received an invitation 
from the General to attend him in the same station 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 aide-de-camp to the general, along with Sir Harry 
Erskine and Captain Grant, now General Grant. 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, therefore, cast the first part of that work anew in 
the Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, which was 
published while I was at Turin. 1 But this piece was at first 
little more successful 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 performance 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. 2 

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 Essays, which I called Political Discourses, 
and also my Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, 
1 [In April, "before starting for Turin. En.] 2 [In November. Ed.] 

b 2 



4 MY OWN LIFE. 

which is another part of my treatise that I cast anew. 
Meanwhile, my bookseller, A. Millar, informed me, that my 
former publications (all bint the unfortunate Treatise) were 
baginning to be the subject of conversation ; that the sale of 
them was gradually increasing, and that new editions were 
demanded. Answers by Reverends, and Right Reverends, 
came out two or three in a year ; and I found, by Dr. War- 
burton's railing, that the books were beginning to be esteemed 
in good company. However, I had fixed a resolution, which 
I inflexibly maintained, never to reply to anybody ; 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 dis- 
posed 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, I removed from the country to the town, the true 
scene for a man of letters. In 1752, were published at Edin- 
burgh, where I then lived, my Political Discourses, the only 
work of mine that was successful on the first publication. 
It was well received abroad and at home. In the same year 1 
was published at London, my Enquiry concerning the Prin- 
ciples of Morals ; which, in my own opinion (who ought not 
to judge on that subject), 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 
frightened with the notion of continuing a narrative through 
a period of 1 700 years, I commenced with the accession of 
the House of Stuart, an epoch when, I thought, the misre- 
presentations 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 disappointment : I Was assailed by one cry of re- 
proach, disapprobation, and even detestation ; English, Scotch, 
1 [In 1751. Ed.] 






MY OWN LIFE. 



and Irish, Whig and Tory, churchman and sectary, free- 
thinker 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 separately 
sent me messages not to be discouraged. 

I was, however, I confess, discouraged ; and had not the 
war been at that time breaking out between France and 
England, I had certainly retired to some provincial town 
of the former kingdom, have changed my name, and never 
more have returned to my native country. But as this 
scheme was not now practicable, and the subsequent volume 
was considerably advanced, I resolved to pick up courage 
and to persevere. 

In this interval, 1 I published at London my Natural His- 
tory of Eeligion, 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 scurrility which distinguish the Warburtonian 
school. This pamphlet gave me some consolation for the 
otherwise indifferent reception of my performance.* 

In 1756, two years after the fall of the first volume, was 
published the second volume of my History, containing the 
period from the death of Charles I. till the Revolution. This 
performance 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 
in the state and in literature, I was so little inclined to yield 
to their senseless clamour, that in about a hundred altera- 
tions, which farther study, reading, or reflection engaged me 
to make in the reigns of the first two Stuarts, I have made 
all of them invariably to the Tory side. It is ridiculous to 
1 In 1757. 8 [See p. 62. Ed.] 



6 MY OWN LIFE. 

consider the English constitution 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 Elizabeth was particularly obnoxious. But I was now 
callous against the impressions of public folly, and continued 
very peaceably 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 1761, with toler- 
able, and but tolerable success. 

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 country of Scotland, determined never 
more to set my foot out of it ; and retaining the satisfaction 
of never having preferred a request to one great man, or even 
making advances of friendship to any of them. As I was 
now turned of fifty, I thought of passing 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 his embassy to 
Paris, with a near prospect of being appointed secretary 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 connexions 
with the great, and because I was afraid that the civi- 
lities and gay company of Paris, would prove disagreeable to 
a person of my age and humour : but on his lordship's re- 
peating the invitation, I accepted of it. I have every reason, 
both of pleasure and interest, to think myself happy in my 
connexions with that nobleman, 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 fron 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 



MY OWN LIFE. 7 

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 Lieute- 
nant of Ireland. I was charge d'affaires till the arrival of 
the Duke of Kichmond, towards the end of the year. In the 
beginning of 1766, I left Paris, and next summer went to 
Edinburgh, with the same view as formerly, of burying 
myself in a philosophical retreat. 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 superfluity could 
produce, as I had formerly made an experiment of a compe- 
tency. But in 1767, 1 received from Mr. Conway an invita- 
tion to be Under-secretary ; and this invitation, both the 
character of the person, and my connexions with Lord Hert- 
ford, prevented me from declining. I returned to Edinburgh 
in 1769. very opulent (for I possessed a revenue of 1,000 J. a 
year), healthy, and though somewhat stricken in years, with 
the prospect of enjoying long my ease, and of seeing the 
increase 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 appre- 
hend 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, notwithstand- 
ing the great decline of my person, never suffered a moment's 
abatement of my spirits ; insomuch, that were I to name 
the 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 speak- 
ing of myself, which emboldens me the more to speak my sen- 
timents) ; I was, I say, a man of mfld dispositions, of command 
of temper, of an open, social, and cheerful humour, capable of 



8 MY OWN LIFE. 

attachment, but 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, notwith- 
standing my frequent disappointments. My company was 
not 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 dis- 
pleased 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 at- 
tacked by her baleful tooth : and though, I wantonly exposed 
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 circum- 
stance of my character and conduct : not but that the zea- 
lots, 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. 

Apeil 18, 1776. 






LETTER FEOM ADAM SMITH, LLD., 

TO 

WILLIAM STEAHAN, ESQ. 1 



Kirkaldy, Fifeshire, Nov. 9, 1776. 

Dear Sir, It is with a realy though a very melancholy 
pleasure, that I sit down to give you some account of the 
behaviour of our late excellent friend, Mr. Hume, during his 
last illness. 

Though, in his own judgment, his disease was mortal and 
incurable, yet he allowed himself to be prevailed upon, by 
the entreaty 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 Eng- 
land, 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 Scot- 
land, I was under the necessity of continuing my journey. 
His disease seemed to yield to exercise 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 

1 [For the circumstances attending the publication of this letter, see p. 80. Ed.] 



10 LETTER FROM 

to go to Bath to drink the waters, which appeared for some 
time to have so good an effect upon him, that even he him- 
self began to entertain, what he was not apt to do, a better 
opinion of his own health. His symptoms, however, soon re- 
turned with their usual violence, and from that moment he 
gave up all thoughts of recovery, but submitted with the 
utmost cheerfulness, 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 conversation of his friends ; 
and, sometimes in the evening, with a party at his favourite 
game of whist. His cheerfulness was so great, his conver- 
sation 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.' ' Doc- 
tor,' said he, ' as I believe you would not chuse to tell any 
thing but the truth, you had better tell him, 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 for- 
bear writing him a letter bidding him once more an eternal 
adieu, and applying 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 nothing in talking or writing to 
him as to a dying man, and that so far from being hurt by 
this frankness, 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 immediately 
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 






DR. ADAM SMITH. 11 

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.' ' Well,' said I, f if it must be so, you have 
at least the satisfaction of leaving all your friends, your 
brother'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 enemies 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 consequence 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 reason to die con- 
tented.' He then diverted himself with inventing 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 fur- 
ther 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 alterations. 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 of 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 super- 
stition.' But Charon would then lose all temper and decency. 
' You loitering rogue, that will not happen these many hun- 
dred years. Do you fancy 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 



12 LETTER FROM 

dissolution with great cheerfulness, he never affected to make 
any parade of his magnanimity. He never mentioned the 
subject but when the conversation naturally lead to it, and 
never dwelt longer upon it than the course of the conversa- 
tion happened to require : it was a subject indeed which 
occurred pretty frequently, in consequence of the inquiries 
which his friends, who came to see him, naturally made con- 
cerning 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 cheerfulness was 
still so great, his complaisance and social disposition were 
still so entire, that when any 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 condition that he would send for me when- 
ever he wished to see me ; the physician who saw him most 
frequently, Dr. Black, undertaking, 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 
anybody. He finds that even the conversation of his most 
intimate friends fatigues 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. 

'Edinburgh, 23d August, 1776. 

* My dearest Feiend, I am obliged to make use of my 
nephew's hand in writing to you, as I do not rise to-day. 

4 1 go very fast to decline, and last night had a small fever, 
which I hoped might put a quicker period to this tedious ill- 
ness, but unluckily it has, in a great measure, gone off. I 



DR. ADAM SMITH. 13 

cannot submit to your coming over here on my account, as it 
is possible for me to see you so small a part of the day, but 
Doctor Black can better inform you concerning the degree of 
strength which may from time to time remain with me. 
Adieu,' etc. 

Three days after I received the following letter from Doctor 
Black. 

' Edinburgh, Monday, 26th August, 1776. 

' Dear Sir, Yesterday, about four o'clock afternoon, Mr. 
Hume expired. The near approach of his death became 
evident in the night between Thursday and Friday, when 
his disease became excessive, and soon weakened him so 
much, that he could no longer rise out of his bed. He con- 
tinued to the last perfectly sensible, and free from much pain 
or feelings of distress. He never dropped the smallest ex- 
pression 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 letter 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 exer- 
cising, upon proper occasions, acts both of charity and gene- 
rosity. 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 



14 LETTER FROM DR. ADAM SMITH. 

meaning of his raillery to mortify ; and therefore, far from 
offending, it seldom failed to please and delight, even those 
who were the objects of it. To his friends, who were fre- 
quently the objects of it, there was not perhaps any one of all 
his great and amiable qualities, which contributed more to 
endear his conversation. And that gaiety of temper, so 
agreeable in society, but which is so often accompanied with 
frivolous and superficial qualities, was in him certainly at- 
tended with the most severe application, 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 lifetime 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, 

Moat affectionately your's, 

Adam Smith. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 



Hume has told us in bis autobiography, that very early in 
life he was seized with a passion for literature : an expression 
which, strong as it is, does not err on the side of exaggera- 
tion. From the time of leaving school, he seems to have 
been absorbed in literary pursuits and ambitions. He was 
incessantly engaged in working at questions suggested by 
the writings of Locke and Berkeley. He came to believe 
that he had discovered new truths ; and he dreamed of a 
general recognition of his genius. Mingling with these 
ambitious aspirations, there was a set purpose to curb an 
irritable, excited temper, and to realize the calm elevation 
of the philosopher. 

In the hope of achieving these results, he declined to train 
himself for the law or for business. His income, though 
small, was sufficient for the time ; and he expected that his 
writings would bring wealth as well as fame. 

The following letter 1 to his friend Michael Ramsay, written 
shortly after his seventeenth birthday, is the earliest record 
which we possess, and it gives a picture, equally graphic and 
astonishing, of his boyhood. 

'July 4, 1727. 

' D R M. I received all the books you writ of, and your 
Milton among the rest. When I saw it, I perceived there 
was a difference betwixt preaching and practising : you 
accuse me of niceness, and yet practise it most egregiously 
yourself. What was the necessity of sending your Milton, 
which I knew you were so fond of? Why, I lent your's and 
can't get it. But would you not, in the same manner, have 

1 Life and Correspondence of David Hume. By John Hill Burton, Esq., Advo- 
cate. Vol. i., p. 12. 



16 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

lent your own ? Yes. Then, why this ceremony and good 
breeding ? I write all this to show you how easily any action 
may be brought to bear the countenance of a fault. You may 
justify yourself very well, by saying it was kindness ; and I 
am satisfied with it, and thank you for it. So, in the same 
manner, I may justify myself from your reproofs. You say 
that I would not send in my papers, because they were not 
polished nor brought to any form : which you say is nicety. 
But was it not reasonable ? Would you have me send in my 
loose incorrect thoughts ? Were such worth the transcribing ? 
All the progress that T made is but drawing the outlines, on 
loose bits of paper : here a hint of a passion ; there a phe- 
nomenon in the mind accounted for : in another the alteration 
of these accounts ; sometimes a remark upon an author I 
have been reading ; and none of them worth to any body, 
and I believe scarce to myself. The only design I had of 
mentioning any of them at all, was to see what you would 
have said of your own, whether they were of the same kind, 
and if you would send any ; and I have got my end, for you 
have given a most satisfactory reason for not communicating 
them, by promising they shall be told viva voce a much 
better way indeed, and in which I promise myself much 
satisfaction ; for the free conversation of a friend is what I 
would prefer to any entertainment. Just now I am entirely 
confined to myself and library for diversion since we parted. 

ea sola voluptus, 

Solamenque mali 

And indeed to me they are not a small one : for I take no 
more of them than I please ; for I hate task-reading, and I 
diversify them at pleasure sometimes a philosopher, some- 
times a poet which change is not unpleasant nor disservice- 
able neither ; for what will more surely engrave upon my 
mind a Tusculan disputation of Cicero's De iEgritudine 
Lenienda, than an eclogue or georgick of Yirgil's ? The 
philosopher's wise man and the poet's husbandman agree in 
peace of mind, in a liberty and independency on fortune, and 
contempt of riches, power, and glory. Every thing is placid 
and quiet in both : nothing perturbed or disordered. 

At secura quies, et nescia fallere vita 
Speluncae, vivique laei ; at frigida Tempo, 
Mugitusque boum, mollesquo sub arbore somni 
Non absint. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 17 

' These lines will, in my opinion, come nothing short of 
the instruction of the finest sentence in Cicero : and is more 
to me, as Virgil's life is more the subject of my ambition, 
being what I can apprehend to be more within my power. For 
the perfectly wise man, that outbraves fortune, is surely 
greater than the husbandman who slips by her ; and, indeed, 
this pastoral and saturnian happiness I have in a great mea- 
sure come at just now. I live like a king, pretty much by 
myself, neither full of action nor perturbation, molles somnos. 
This state, however, I can foresee is not to be relied on. My 
peace of mind is not sufficiently confirmed by philosophy to 
withstand the blows of fortune. This greatness and elevation 
of soul is to be found only in study and contemplation this 
can alone teach us to look down on human accidents. You 
must allow [me] to talk thus, like a philosopher : 'tis a sub- 
ject I think much on, and could talk all day long of. But I 
know I must not trouble you. Wherefore I wisely practise 
my rules, which prescribe to check our appetite ; and, for a 
mortification, shall descend from these superior regions to 
low and ordinary life ; and so far as to tell you, that John 
has bought a horse : he thinks it neither cheap nor dear. It 
cost six guineas, but will be sold cheaper against winter, 
which he is not resolved on as yet. It has no fault, but 
bogles a little. It is tolerably well favoured, and paces natu- 
rally. Mamma bids me tell you, that Sir John Home is not 
going to town ; but he saw Eccles in the country, who says 
he will do nothing in that affair, for he is only taking off old 
adjudications, so it is needless to let him see the papers. He 
desires you would trouble yourself to inquire about the Earle's 
affairs, and advise us what to do in this affair. 

* If it were not breaking the formal rule of connexions I 
have prescribed myself in this letter and it did not seem 
unnatural to raise myself from so low affairs as horses and 
papers, to so high and elevate things as books and study I 
would tell you that I read some of Longinus already, and 
that I am mightily delighted with him. I think he does 
really answer the character of being the great sublime he 
describes. He delivers his precepts with such force, as if he 
were enchanted with the subject ; and is himself an author 
that may be cited for an example to his own rules, by any 
one who shall be so adventurous as to write upon his sub- 
ject.' 

VOL. III. 



18 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

Thus he was occupied for four years : devouring books, 
cross-examining the English metaphysicians, and jotting 
down his desultory doubts and criticisms. So he describes 
himself in a letter of a later date : 

* 'Tis not long ago that I burned an old manuscript book, 
wrote before I was twenty, which contained, page after page, 
the gradual progress of my thoughts on that head. It began 
with an anxious search after arguments, to confirm the com- 
mon opinion ; doubts stole in, dissipated, returned ; were 
again dissipated, returned again ; and it was a perpetual 
struggle of a restless imagination against inclination, perhaps 
against reason.' * 

At last his health was a little broken. He appears to have 
suffered from torpidity of liver, caused by sedentary occu- 
pations arid poor food. In a letter 2 to a physician, never 
despatched, but found by Mr. Burton among the papers in 
the possession of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, Hume 
describes minutely his manner of life, his hopes and his fears. 
The letter appears to have been written in 1734, when he 
was twenty-three years of age : and, with the exception of 
the medical details, it is here printed in full. 

' Sir, Not being acquainted with this handwriting, you 
will probably look to the bottom to find the subscription, and 
not finding any, will certainly wonder at this strange method 
of addressing you. I must here in the beginning beg you 
to excuse it, and, to persuade you to read what follows 
with some attention, must tell you, that this gives you 
an opportunity to do a very good-natured action, which I 
believe is the most powerful argument I can use. I need not 
tell you, that I am your countryman, a Scotsman ; for with- 
out any such tie, I dare rely upon your humanity even to a 
perfect stranger, such as I am. The favour I beg of you is 
your advice, and the reason why I address myself in particular 
to you, need not be told, as one must be a skilful physician, 
a man of letters, of wit, of good sense, and of great humanity, 
to give me a satisfying answer. I wish fame had pointed out 
to me more persons, in whom these qualities are united, in 
order to have kept me some time in suspense. This I say 
in the sincerity of my heart, and without any intention of 

1 March 10, 1751. Life. Vol. i., p. 332. The immediate reference is to the 
argument of Cleanthes, in the ' Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.' 
8 Life. Vol. i., p. 30. 






HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 19 

making a compliment ; for though it may seem necessary, 
that, in the beginning of so unusual a letter, I should say 
some fine things, to bespeak your good opinion, and remove 
any prejudices you may conceive at it, yet such an endeavour 
to be witty, would ill suit with the present condition of my 
mind ; which, I must confess, is not without anxiety con- 
cerning the judgment you will form of me. Trusting, how- 
ever, to your candour and generosity, I shall, without further 
preface, proceed to open up to you the present condition of 
my health, and to do that the more effectually, shall give you 
a kind of history of my life, after which you will easily learn 
why I keep my name a secret. 

' You must know then that, from my earliest infancy, I 
found always a strong inclination to books and letters. As 
our college education in Scotland, extending little further 
than the languages, ends commonly when we are about four- 
teen or fifteen years of age, I was after that left to my own 
choice in my reading, and found it incline me almost equally 
to books of reasoning and philosophy, and to poetry and the 
polite authors. Every one who is acquainted either with the 
philosophers or critics, knows that there is nothing yet estab- 
lished in either of these two sciences, and that they contain 
little more than endless disputes, even in the most funda- 
mental articles. Upon examination of these, I found a 
certain boldness of temper growing in me, which was not 
inclined to submit to any authority in these subjects, but led 
me to seek out some new medium, by which truth might be 
established. After much study and reflection on this, at 
last, when I was about eighteen years of age, there seemed 
to be opened up to me a new scene of thought, which trans- 
ported me beyond measure, and made me, with an ardour 
natural to young men, throw up every other pleasure or 
business to apply entirely to it. The law, which was the 
business I designed to follow, appeared nauseous to me, and 
I could think of no other way of pushing my fortune in the 
world, but that of a scholar and philosopher. I was infinitely 
happy in this course of life for some months ; till at last, 
about the beginning of September, 1729, all my ardour 
seemed in a moment to be extinguished, and I could no longer 
raise my mind to that pitch, which formerly gave me such 
excessive pleasure. I felt no uneasiness or want of spirits, 
when I laid aside my book ; and therefore never imagined 

c 2 



JO HISTORY OF TIIE EDITIONS. 

there was any bodily distemper in the case, but that my 
coldness proceeded from a laziness of temper, which must be 
overcome by redoubling my application. In this condition I 
remained for nine months, very uneasy to myself, as you may 
well imagine, but without growing any worse, which was a 
miracle. There was another particular, which contributed, 
more than any thing, to waste my spirits and bring on me 
this distemper, which was, that having read many books of 
morality, such as Cicero, Seneca, and Plutarch, and being 
smit with their beautiful representations of virtue and phi- 
losophy, I undertook the improvement of my temper and 
will, along with my reason and understanding. I was con- 
tinually fortifying myself with reflections against death, and 
poverty, and shame, and pain, and all the other calamities of 
life. These no doubt are exceeding useful, when joined with 
an active life, because the occasion being presented along 
with the reflection, works it into the soul, and makes it take 
a deep impression ; but in solitude they serve to little other 
purpose, than to waste the spirits, the force of the mind 
meeting with no resistance, but wasting itself in the air, like 
our arm when it misses its aim. This, however, I did not 
learn but by experience, and till I had already ruined my 
health, though I was not sensible of it. * * * 

* Though I was sorry to find myself engaged with so 
tedious a distemper, yet the knowledge of it set me very 
much at ease, by satisfying me that my former coldness pro- 
ceeded not from any defect of temper or genius, but from a 
disease to which any one may be subject. I now began to 
take some indulgence to myself; studied moderately, and 
only when I found my spirits at their highest pitch, leaving 
off before I was weary, and trifling away the rest of my time 
in the best manner I could. In this way, I lived with satis- 
faction enough ; and on my return to town next winter found 
my spirits very much recruited, so that, though they sank 
under me in the higher flights of genius, yet I was able to 
make considerable progress in my former designs. I was 
very regular in my diet and way of life from the beginning, 
and all that winter made it a constant rule to ride twice or 
thrice a-week, and walk every day. For these reasons I ex- 
pected, when I returned to the country, and could renew my 
exercise with less interruption, that I would perfectly recover. 
But in this I was much mistaken. * * * 



f 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 21 

c Thus I have given you a full account of the condition of 
my body ; and without staying to ask pardon, as I ought to 
do, for so tedious a story, shall explain to you how my mind 
stood all this time, which on every occasion, especially in this 
distemper, have a very near connexion together. Having 
now time and leisure to cool my inflamed imagination, I 
began to consider seriously how I should proceed in my phi- 
losophical inquiries. I found that the moral philosophy 
transmitted to us by antiquity laboured under the same in- 
convenience that has been found in their natural philosophy, 
of being entirely hypothetical, and depending more upon 
invention than experience : every one consulted his fancy in 
erecting schemes of virtue and of happiness, without regarding 
human nature, upon which every moral conclusion must 
depend. This, therefore, I resolved to make my principal 
study, and the source from which I would derive every truth 
in criticism as well as morality. I believe it is a certain fact, 
that most of the philosophers who have gone before us, have 
been overthrown by the greatness of their genius, and that 
little more is required to make a man succeed in this study, 
than to throw off all prejudices either for his own opinions 
or for those of others. At least this is all I have to depend 
on for the truth of my reasonings, which I have multiplied 
to such a degree, that within these three years, I find I have 
scribbled many a quire of paper, in which there is nothing 
contained but my own inventions. This, with the reading 
most of the celebrated books in Latin, French, and English, 
and acquiring the Italian, you may think a sufficient business 
for one in perfect health, and so it would had it been done to 
any purpose ; but my disease was a cruel encumbrance on 
me. I found that I was not able to follow out any train of 
thought, by one continued stretch of view, but by repeated 
interruptions, and by refreshing my eye from time to time 
upon other objects. Yet with this inconvenience I have 
collected the rude materials for many volumes ; but in re- 
ducing these to words, when one must bring the idea he 
comprehended in gross, nearer to him, so as to contemplate 
its minutest parts, and keep it steadily in his eye, so as to 
copy these parts in order, this I found impracticable for me, 
nor were my spirits equal to so severe an employment. Here 
lay my greatest calamity. I had no hopes of delivering my 
opinions with such elegance and neatness,, as to draw to roe 



22 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

the attention of the world, and I would rather live and die 
in obscurity than produce them maimed and imperfect. 

1 Such a miserable disappointment I scarce ever remember 
to have heard of. The small distance betwixt me and perfect 
health makes me the more uneasy in my present situation. 
It is a weakness rather than a lowness of spirits which 
troubles me, and there seems to be as great a difference 
betwixt my distemper and common vapours, as betwixt 
vapours and madness. I have noticed in the writings of the 
French mystics, and in those of our fanatics here, that when 
they give a history of the situation of their souls, they men- 
tion a coldness and desertion of the spirit, which frequently 
returns ; and some of them, at the beginning, have been 
tormented with it many years. As this kind of devotion 
depends entirely on the force of passion, and consequently of 
the animal spirits, I have often thought that their case and 
mine were pretty parallel, and that their rapturous admira- 
tions might discompose the fabric of the nerves and brain, as 
much as profound reflections, and that warmth or enthusiasm 
which is inseparable from them. 

* However this may be, I have not come out of the cloud 
so well as they commonly tell us they have done, or rather 
began to despair of ever recovering. To keep myself from 
being melancholy on so dismal a prospect, my only security 
was in peevish reflections on the vanity of the world and of 
all human glory ; which, however just sentiments they may 
be esteemed, I have found can never be sincere, except in 
those- who are possessed of them. Being sensible that all 
my philosophy would never make me contented in my present 
situation, I began to rouse up myself; and being encouraged 
by instances of recovery from worse degrees of this distemper, 
as well as by the assurances of my physicians, I began to 
think of something more effectual than I had hitherto tried. 
I found, that as there are two things very bad for this dis- 
temper, study and idleness, so there are two things very good, 
business and diversion ; and that my whole time was spent 
betwixt the bad, with little or no share of the good. For 
this reason I resolved to seek out a more active life, and 
though I could not quit my pretensions in learning but with 
my last breath, to lay them aside for some time, in order the 
more effectually to resume them. Upon examination, I found 
my choice confined to two kinds of life, that of a travelling 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 23 

governor, and that of a merchant. The first, besides that it 
is in some respects an idle life, was, I fonnd, unfit for me ; 
and that because from a sedentary and retired way of living, 
from a bashful temper, and from a narrow fortune, I had been 
little accustomed to general companies, and had not confidence 
and knowledge enough of the world to push my fortune, or 
to be serviceable in that way. I therefore fixed my choice 
upon a merchant ; and having got recommendation to a con- 
siderable trader in Bristol, I am just now hastening thither, 
with a resolution to forget myself, and every thing that is 
past, to engage myself, as far as is possible, in that course of 
life, and to toss about the world, from the one pole to the 
other, till I leave this distemper behind me.' 

In consequence of this indisposition, his friends induced 
him to enter a merchant's oifice at Bristol; but after a brief 
trial he returned to his favourite pursuits, and crossing to 
France, and settling i first at Reims, but chiefly at La Fleche 
in Anjou,' he occupied three years in collecting the passages 
in his manuscripts which dealt with the philosophies of Locke 
and Berkeley, and in preparing them for the press. Towards 
the close of 1737 he left France, and came to London, to 
negotiate for the publication of two volumes of a ' Treatise 
of Human Nature.' The following letters to Henry Home,, 
afterwards Lord Karnes, deserve to be quoted : 

'London, December 2, 1737. 

'Dear Sir, I am sorry I am not able to satisfy your 
curiosity by giving you some general notion of the plan upon 
which I proceed. But my opinions are so new, and even 
some terms that I am obliged to make use of, that I could 
not propose, by any abridgment, to give my system an air of 
likelihood, or so much as make it intelligible. It is a thing 
I have in vain attempted already, at a gentleman's request in 
this place, who thought it would help him to comprehend and 
judge of my notions, if he saw them all at once before him. 
I have had a greater desire of communicating to you the 
plan of the whole, that I believe it will not appear in public 
before the beginning of next winter. For, besides that it 
would be difficult to have it printed before the rising of the 
parliament, I must confess I am not ill pleased with a little 
delay, that it may appear with as few imperfections as pos- 
sible. I have been here near three months, always within a 



24 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

week of agreeing with my printers ; and }^ou may imagine I 
did not forget the work itself during that time, where I began 
to feel some passages weaker for the style and diction than 
I could have wished. The nearness and greatness of the 
event roused up my attention, and made me more difficult to 
please, than when I was alone in perfect tranquillity in France. 
But here I must tell you one of my foibles. I have, a great 
inclination to go down to Scotland this spring to see my 
friends ; and have your advice concerning my philosophical 
discoveries ; but cannot overcome a certain shame-facedness 
I have to appear among you at my years, without having yet 
a settlement, or so much as attempted any. How happens it 
that we philosophers cannot as heartily despise the world as 
it despises us ? I think in my conscience the contempt were 
as well founded on our side as on the other. * * * 

' Your thoughts and mine agree with respect to Dr. Butler, 
and I would be glad to be introduced to him. I am at pre- 
sent castrating my work, that is, cutting off its nobler parts ; 
that is, endeavouring it shall give as little offence as possible, 
before which, I could not pretend to put it into the Doctor's 
hands. This is a piece of cowardice, for which I blame myself, 
though I believe none of my friends will blame me. But I 
was resolved not to be an enthusiast in philosophy, while I 
was blaming other enthusiasms.' 1 

Again, on March 4, 1738, he writes : 

4 1 shall not trouble you with any formal compliments or 
thanks, which would be but an ill return for the kindness 
you have done me in writing in my behalf, to one you are so 
little acquainted with as Dr. Butler; and, I am afraid, 
stretching the truth in favour of a friend. I have called 
upon the Doctor, with a design of delivering him your letter, 
but find he is at present in the country. I am a little anxious 
to have the Doctor's opinion. My own I dare not trust to ; 
both because it concerns myself, and because it is so variable, 
that I know not how to fix it. Sometimes it elevates me 
above the clouds ; at other times, it depresses me with doubts 
and fears; so that, whatever be my success, I cannot be 
entirely disappointed. Somebody has told me that you might 
perhaps be in London this spring. I should esteem this a 
very lucky event ; and notwithstanding all the pleasures of 
1 Life. Vol. i., p. 62. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 25 

the town, I would certainly engage you to pass some philo- 
sophical evenings with me, and either correct my judgment, 
where you differ from me, or confirm it where we agree. I 
believe I have some need of the one, as well as the other ; 
and though the propensity to diffidence be an error on the 
better side, yet 'tis an error, and dangerous as well as dis- 
agreeable.' 1 

On September 26, 1738, he sold the copyright of the two 
volumes for 50L to John Noone, of Cheapside, and they ap- 
peared in January 1739, with the following advertisement: 

'advertisement. 
'My design in the present Work is sufficiently explained 
in the Introduction. The reader must only observe, that all 
the subjects I have there planned out to myself are not treated 
in these two volumes. The subjects of the Understanding 
and Passions make a complete chain of reasoning by them- 
selves ; and I was willing to take advantage of this natural 
division, in order to try the taste of the Public. If I have 
the good fortune to meet with success, I shall proceed to the 
examination of Morals, Politics, and Criticism, which will 
complete this Treatise of Human Nature. The approbation 
of the Public I consider as the greatest reward of my labours; 
but am determined to regard its judgment, whatever it be, as 
my best instruction.' 

On February 13, he wrote to H. Home : 

1 Sir, I thought to have wrote this from a place nearer 
you than London, but have been detained here by contrary 
winds, which have kept all Berwick ships from sailing. 'Tis 
now a fortnight since my book was published ; and, besides 
many other considerations, I thought it would contribute 
very much to my tranquillity, and might spare me many mor- 
tifications, to be in the country while the success of the work 
was doubtful. I am afraid 'twill remain so very long. Those 
who are accustomed to reflect on such abstract subjects, are 
commonly full of prejudices ; and those who are unprejudiced 
are unacquainted with metaphysical reasonings. My prin- 
ciples are also so remote from all the vulgar sentiments on 
the subject, that were they to take place, they would produce 
almost a total alteration in philosophy ; and you know, revo- 
lutions of this kind are not easily brought about. I am 

1 Life. Vol. i., p. 64. 



20 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

young enough to see what will become of the matter ; but 
am apprehensive lest the chief reward I shall have for some 
time will be the pleasure of studying on such important sub- 
jects, and the approbation of a few judges. Among the rest, 
you may believe I aspire to your approbation ; and next to 
that, to your free censure and criticism. I shall present you 
with a cop}^ as soon as I come to Scotland ; and hope your 
curiosity, as well as friendship, will make you take the pains 
of perusing it. 

* If you know anybody that is a judge, you would do me 
a sensible pleasure in engaging him to a serious perusal of 
the book. 'Tis so rare to meet with one that will take pains 
on a book, that does not come recommended by some great 
name or authority, that I must confess I am as fond of 
meeting with such a one as if I were sure of his approbation. 
I am, however, so doubtful in that particular, that I have 
endeavoured all I could to conceal my name; though I 
believe I have not been so cautious in this respect as I ought 
to have been. 

' I have sent the Bishop of Bristol a copy, but could not 
wait on him with your letter after he had arrived at that 
dignity. At least I thought it would be to no purpose after 
I began the printing. You'll excuse the frailty of an author 
in writing so long a letter about nothing but his own per- 
formances. Authors have this privilege in common with 
lovers ; and founded on the same reason, that they are both 
besotted with a blind fondness of their object. I have been 
upon my guard against this frailty ; but perhaps this has 
rather turned to my prejudice. The reflection on our caution 
is apt to give us a more implicit confidence afterwards, when 
we come to form a judgment.' l 

About the same time, he wrote to Michael Eamsay. 

* As to myself, no alteration has happened to my fortune : 
nor have I taken the least step towards it. I hope things 
will be riper next winter ; and I would not aim at any thing 
till I could judge of my success in my grand undertaking, 
and see upon what footing I shall stand in the world. I am 
afraid, however, that I shall not have any great success of a 
sudden. Such performances make their way very heavily at 
first, when they are not recommended by any great name or 
authority.' 2 

1 Life. Vol. i., p. 105. 2 Life. Vol. i., p. 107. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 27 

The next letter is dated June 1, and is addressed to 
H. Home. 

' Dear Sir, You see I am better than my word, having 
sent you two papers instead of one. I have hints for two or 
three more, which I shall execute at my leisure. I am not 
much in the humour of such compositions at present, having 
received news from London of the success of my Philosophy, 
which is but indifferent, if I may judge by the sale of the 
book, and if I may believe my bookseller. I am now out of 
humour with myself; but doubt not, in a little time, to be 
only out of humour with the world, like other unsuccessful 
authors. After all, I am sensible of my folly in entertaining 
any discontent, much more despair, upon this account, since 
I could not expect any better from such abstract reasoning ; 
nor, indeed, did I promise myself much better. My fondness 
for what I imagined new discoveries, made me overlook all 
common rules of prudence ; and, having enjoyed the usual 
satisfaction of projectors, 'tis but just I should meet with 
their disappointments. However, as 'tis observed with such 
sort of people, one project generally succeeds another, I 
doubt not but in a day or two I shall be as easy as ever, in 
hopes that truth will prevail at last over the indifference and 
opposition of the world. 

' You see I might at present subscribe myself your most 
humble servant with great propriety : but, notwithstanding, 
shall presume to call myself your most affectionate friend as 
well as humble servant.' 1 

Nevertheless, he would not abandon hope, and busied 
himself with preparing a third volume for the press. This 
he submitted to Francis Hutcheson, then Professor of Moral 
Philosophy in the University of Glasgow. On receiving 
Hutcheson's comments, he replied as follows : 

'Ninewells, 1 7th Sept., 1739. 

' Sir, I am much obliged to you for your reflections on 
my papers. I have perused them with care, and find they 
will be of use to me. You have mistaken my meaning in 
some passages, which, upon examination, I have found to 
proceed from some ambiguity or defect in my expression. 

* What affected me most in your remarks, is your observ- 
ing that there wants a certain warmth in the cause of virtue, 

1 Life. Vol. i., p. 108. 



28 HISTORY OF TIIE EDITIONS. 

which you think all good men would relish, and could not 
displease amidst abstract inquiries. I must own this has not 
happened by chance, but is the effect of a reasoning either 
good or bad. There are different ways of examining the 
mind, as well as the body. One may consider it either as an 
anatomist or as a painter : either to discover its most secret 
springs and principles, or to describe the grace and beauty 
of its actions. I imagine it impossible to conjoin these two 
views. Where you pull off the skin, and display all the 
minute parts, there appears something trivial, even in the 
noblest attitudes and most vigorous actions ; nor can you 
ever render the object graceful or engaging, but by clothing 
the parts again with skin and flesh, and presenting only their 
bare outside. An anatomist, however, can give very good 
advice to a painter or statuary. And, in like manner, I am 
persuaded that a metaphysician may be very helpful to a 
moralist, though I cannot easily conceive these two characters 
united in the same work. Any warm sentiment of morals, 
I am afraid, would have the air of declamation amidst abstract 
reasonings, and would be esteemed contrary to good taste. 
And though I am much more ambitious of being esteemed a 
friend to virtue than a writer of taste, yet I must always carry 
the latter in my eye, otherwise I must despair of ever being 
serviceable to virtue. I hope these reasons will satisfy you ; 
though at the same time I intend to make a new trial, if it 
be possible to make the moralist and metaphysician agree a 
little better. 

* I cannot agree to your sense of natural. 'Tis founded on 
final causes, which is a consideration that appears to me 
pretty uncertain and unphilosophical. For, pray, what is the 
end of man ? Is he created for happiness, or for virtue ? for 
this life, or for the next ? for himself, or for his Maker ? 
Your definition of natural depends upon solving these ques- 
tions, which are endless, and quite wide of my purpose. I 
have never called justice unnatural, but only artificial. 
" Atque ipsa utilitas, justi prope mater et cequi" says one of 
the best moralists of antiquity. Grotius and Puffendorf, to 
be consistent, must assert the same. 

* Whether natural abilities be virtue, is a dispute of words. 
I think I follow the common use of language ; virtus signified 
chiefly courage among the Romans. I was just now reading 
this character of Alexander VI. in Guicciardin. " In Ales- 



f 



HISTOEY OF THE EDITIONS. 29 

sandro sesto fu solertia et sagacita singulare : consiglio 
eccellente, efficacia a persuadere maravigliosa, et a tutte le 
faccende gravi, sollicitudine, et destrezza incredibile. Ma 
erano queste virtu avanzate di grande intervallo da vitii." 
Were benevolence the only virtue, no characters could be 
mixed, but would depend entirely on their degrees of benevo- 
lence. Upon the whole, I desire to take my catalogue of 
virtues from " Cicero's Offices," not from " The Whole Duty of 
Man." I had indeed the former book in my eye in all my 
reasonings. 

* I have many other reflections to communicate to you ; 
but it would be troublesome. I shall therefore conclude with 
telling you, that I intend to follow your advice in altering 
most of those passages you have remarked as defective in 
point of prudence : though, I must own, I think you a little 
too delicate. Except a man be in orders, or be immediately 
concerned in the instruction of youth, I do not think his 
character depends upon his philosophical speculations, as the 
world is now modelled; and a little liberty seems requisite 
to bring into the public notice a book that is calculated for 
few readers. I hope you will allow me the freedom of con- 
sulting you when I am in any difficulty, and believe me, &c. 

' P.S. I cannot forbear recommending another thing to 
your consideration. Actions are not virtuous nor vicious, but ' 
only so far as they are proofs of certain qualities or durable 
principles in the mind. This is a point I should have 
established more expressly than I have done. Now, I desire 
you to consider if there be any quality that is virtuous, with- 
out having a tendency either to the public good or to the 
good of the person who possesses it. If there be none with- 
out these tendencies, we may conclude that their merit is 
derived from sympathy. I desire you would only consider the 
tendencies of qualities, not their actual operations, which 
depend on chance. Brutus riveted the chains of Rome faster 
by his opposition; but the natural tendency of his noble 
dispositions his public spirit and magnanimity was to 
establish her liberty. 

' You are a great admirer of Cicero as well as I am. Please 
to review the fourth book Be Finibus Bonorum et Malorum : 
where you find him prove against the Stoics, that if there be 
no other goods but virtue, 'tis impossible there can be any 
virtue, because the mind would then want all motives to 



30 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS 

! begin its actions upon ; and 'tis on the goodness or badness 
of the motives that the virtue of the action depends. This 
proves, that to every virtuous action there must be a motive 

(or impelling passion distinct from the virtue, and that virtue 
can never be the sole motive to any action. You do not 
assent to this : though I think there is no proposition more 
certain or important. I must own my proofs were not dis- 
tinct enough and must be altered. You see with what re- 
luctance I part with you, though I believe it is time I should 
ask your pardon for so much trouble.' 1 

When this volume was ready, Hume changed his publisher. 
Although, as Mr. Burton observes, 501. was a fair sum * for 
an edition of a new metaphysical work, by an unknown and 
young author, born and brought up in a remote part of the 
empire,' and although Noone reported that the book did not 
sell, Hume was suspicious, and, looking back upon it as a 
bad bargain, availed himself of Hutcheson's good offices to 
obtain an introduction to Thomas Longman. Upon this 
subject he wrote to Hutcheson, 

' 16th March, 1740. 

' Dear Sir, I must trouble you to write that letter you 
was so kind as to offer to Longman the bookseller. I con- 
cluded somewhat of a hasty bargain with my bookseller, 
from indolence and an aversion to bargaining : as also because 
I was told that few or no booksellers would engage for one 
edition with a new author. I was also determined to keep 
my name a secret for some time, though I find I have failed 
in that point. I sold one edition of these two volumes for 
fifty guineas, and also engaged myself heedlessly in a clause, 
which may prove troublesome, viz. that upon printing a 
second edition I shall take all the copies remaining upon 
hand at the bookseller's price at the time. 'Tis in order to 
have some check upon my bookseller, that I would willingly 
engage with another : and I doubt not but your recommen- 
dation would be very serviceable to me, even though you be 
not personally acquainted with him. 

' I wait with some impatience for a second edition, princi- 
pally on account of alterations I intend to make in my per- 
formance. This is an advantage that we authors possess 
since the invention of printing, and renders the nonum 
prematur in annum not so necessary to us as to the ancients. 
> Life. Vol. i.,p. 112. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 31 

Without it I should have been guilty of a very great temerity, 
to publish at my years so many novelties in so delicate a part 
of philosophy ; and at any rate, I am afraid that I must 
plead as my excuse that very circumstance of youth which 
may be urged against me. I assure you, that without run- 
ning any of the heights of scepticism, I am apt in a cool 
hour to suspect, in general, that most of my reasonings will 
be more useful by furnishing hints and exciting people's 
curiosity, than as containing any principles that will augment 
the stock of knowledge, that must pass to future ages. I 
wish I could discover more fully the particulars wherein I 
have failed. I admire so much the candour I have observed 
in Mr. Locke, yourself, and a very few more, that I would be 
extremely ambitious of imitating it, by frankly confessing 
my errors. If I do not imitate it, it must proceed neither 
from my being free from errors nor want of inclination, but 
from my real unaffected ignorance. I shall consider more 
carefully all the particulars you mention to me : though with 
regard to abstract ideas, 'tis with difficulty I can entertain a 
doubt on that head, notwithstanding your authority. Our 
conversation together has furnished me a hint, with which 
I shall augment the second edition. 'Tis this the word 
simple idea is an abstract term, comprehending different in- 
dividuals that are similar. Yet the point of their similarity, 
from the very nature of such ideas, is not distinct nor sepa- 
rable from the rest. Is not this a proof, among many others, 
that there may be a similarity without any possible separation 
even in thought ? 

' 1 must consult you in a point of prudence. I have con- 
cluded a reasoning with these two sentences : " When you 
pronounce any action or character to be vicious, you mean 
nothing but that, from the particular constitution of your 
nature, you have a feeling or sentiment of blame from the 
contemplation of it. Vice and virtue, therefore, may be 
compared to sounds, colours, heat, and cold, which, according 
to modern philosophy, are not qualities in objects, but per- 
ceptions in the mind. And this discovery in morals, like that 
other in physics, is to be regarded as a mighty advancement 
of the speculative sciences, though like that too it has little 
or no influence on practice.' ! 

1 ' See this passage in the " Treatise of where it appears -with no other varia- 
Human Nature," Book iii. Part i. sect. 1. tion than the substitution of the word 



32 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

' Is not this laid a little too strong ? I desire your opinion 
of it, though I cannot entirely promise to conform myself to 
it. I wish from my heart I could avoid concluding, that 
since morality, according to your opinion, as well as mine, 
is determined merely by sentiment, it regards only human 
nature and human life. This has been often urged against 
you, and the consequences are very momentous. If you make 
any alterations in your performances, I can assure you, there 
are many who desire you would more fully consider this point, 
if you think that the truth lies on the popular side. Other- 
wise common prudence, your character, and situation, forbid 
you [to] touch upon it. If morality were determined by 
reason, that is the same to all rational beings ; but nothing 
but experience can assure us that the sentiments are thf 
same. What experience have we with regard to superior 
beings ? How can we ascribe to them any sentiments at all ? 
They have implanted those sentiments in us for the conduct 
of life like our bodily sensations, which they possess not 
themselves. I expect no answer to these difficulties in the 
compass of a letter. 'Tis enough if you have patience to 
read so long a letter as this.' l 

Mr. Longman published the volume; on what terms, is not 
known. 

The following advertisement was prefixed to it : 

* I think it proper to inform the public, that tho' this be a 
third volume of the " Treatise of Human Nature," yet 'tis in 
some measure independent of the other two, and requires not 
that the reader shou'd enter into all the abstract reasonings 
contain'd in them, I am hopeful it may be understood by 
ordinary readers, with as little attention as is usually given 
to any books of reasoning. It must only be observ'd, that I 
continue to make use of the terms, impressions and ideas, in 
the same sense as formerly; and that by impressions I mean 
our stronger perceptions, such as our sensations, affections 
and sentiments ; and by ideas the fainter perceptions, or the 
copies of these in the memory and imagination. ' 

In the letter to Hutcheson last quoted, it will be noticed 
that Hume still anticipated a second edition. But although 

" considerable," for mighty. It thus ap- as to induce the author materially to 
paon that whatever remarks Hutcheson alter it.' Mr. Buuton. 
m.ide on tho passage, they were not such 

' Life. Vol. i., p. 117 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 38 

his hopes were not quenched, a tone of disappointment can be 
detected in the third volume. In 1739, he had spoken fa- 
vourably of the attention paid to Philosophy in England. 
' Reckoning from Thales to Socrates, the space of time is 
nearly equal to that betwixt my Lord Bacon and some late 
philosophers in England, (Mr. Locke, my Lord Shaftsbury, 
Dr. Mandeville, Mr. Hutchinson, Dr. Butler, &c), who have 
begun to put the science of man on a new footing, and have 
engaged the attention, and excited the curiosity of the public. 
So true it is, that however other nations may rival us in 
poetry, and excel us in some other agreeable arts, the im- 
provements in reason and philosophy can only be owing to a 
land of toleration and of liberty.' 1 ' We now proceed to 
explain the nature of personal identity, which has become 
so great a question in philosophy, especially of late years, in 
England, where all the abstruser sciences are studied with 
a peculiar ardour and application.' * But in the third volume 
he wrote : ' Without this advantage, I never should have 
ventured upon a third volume of such abstruse philosophy, 
in an age wherein the greatest part of men seem agreed to 
convert reading into an amusement and to reject every thing 
that requires any considerable degree of attention to be com- 
prehended.' 3 And, further, it may be observed that the 
Advertisement attempts to dissociate this volume from the 
preceding ones, and to secure for it a wider audience. 

Before long his hopes were finally dashed to the ground. 
As he says in his autobiography, 'Never literary attempt 
was more unfortunate than my " Treatise of Human Nature." 
It fell dead-born from the press, without reaching such dis- 
tinction as even to excite a murmur among the zealots.' The 
last statement admits of a trifling correction. In a letter 4 to 
Hutcheson dated March 4, 1740, he says : 

' My bookseller has sent to Mr. Smith 5 a copy of my book, 
which I hope he has received, as well as your letter. I have 
not yet heard what he has done with the abstract ; perhaps 
you have. I have got it printed in London, but not in The 
Works of the Learned, there having been an article with 
regard to my book, somewhat abusive, printed in that work, 
before I sent up the abstract.' 6 

1 Vol. i., p. 308. 5 Mr. Burton believes that this was 

2 Vol. i., p. 539. Adam Smith. 

3 Vol. ii., p. 234. 6 MS. E.S.E. Of this abstract the 

4 Life. Vol. i., p. 116. Edicor has discovered no trace. 
VOL. III. D 



34 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

The review in question, one of the longest in this magazine, 
consists of two notices in the numbers for November and 
December, 1739, occupying in all 51 pages. The object of the 
reviewer is not to discuss the argument of the book, but to 
give a synopsis of its contents, and, as far as possible, to leave 
the author to speak for himself in lengthy quotations, which, 
however, are accompanied by an ironical comment. At the 
outset the reviewer remarks upon the most prominent blemish 
in style. * This work abounds throughout with Egotisms. The 
Author could scarcely use that Form of Speech more fre- 
quently, if he had written his own Memoirs.' 

He is delighted, as might be expected, with the passage in 
which mistaken reasoning is explained by the blunders of 
the animal spirits in rummaging among the cells of the 
brain. The melancholy confessions of the Conclusion of the 
Fourth Part of Book I. receive a fair share of compassion : 
and the article ends with the following paragraphs : 

4 1 will take Leave of our Author while he is in this chear- 
ful Mood, in this agreeable Situation ; for, by looking forward, 
I perceive him extremely ready to relapse into profound 
Meditations on incomprehensible Subjects, and so into Scep- 
ticism, Chagrin, and all that gloomy frightful Train of Ideas 
from whence he is but this Moment emerged. Whether I 
shall wait upon him any more, and venture with him into 
those immense Depths of Philosophy which he launches into 
in his second Volume, I am not yet determined. Perhaps I 
have already and sufficiently answered the End of this Article, 
which is to make the Treatise it refers to more generally 
known than I think it has been ; to bring it, as far as I am 
able, into the Observation of the Learned, who are the proper 
Judges of its Contents, who will give a Sanction to its Doc- 
trines, where they are true and useful, and who have Autho- 
rity to correct the Mistakes where they are of a different 
Nature ; and lastly, to hint to the ingenious Writer, whoever 
he is, some Particulars in his Performance, that may require 
a very serious Reconsideration. It bears indeed incontes- 
table Marks of a great Capacity, of a soaring Genius, but 
young, and not yet thoroughly practised. The Subject is 
vast and noble as any that can exercise the Understanding ; 
but it requires a very mature Judgment to handle it as be- 
comes its Dignity and Importance; the utmost Prudence, 
Tenderness and Delicacy, are requisite to this desirable Issue. 
Time and Use may ripen these Qualities in our Author; and 






HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 35 

we shall probably have Eeason to consider this, compared 
with his later Productions, in the same Light as we view 
the Juvenile Works of Milton, or the first Manner of a 
Raphael, to other celebrated Painters.' 

Two passages in the article may be quoted, as illustrating 
the lepute in which Locke and Berkeley were held at the time. 

4 A man, who has never had the Pleasure of reading Mr. 
Locke's incomparable Essay, will peruse our Author with 
much less Disgust, than those can who have been used to the 
irresistible Eeasoning and wonderful Perspicuity of that ad- 
mirable Writer.' .... 

'It is above twenty Years since Hooked over that Piece of 
Dr. Berkeley's, which contains this most precious discovery, 1 
and, if I remember right, that Gentleman himself boasts of 
some mighty Advantages that would accrue from it to the 
Commonwealth of Learning. The Acquisition of Science 
was to become exceeding easy, and several Difficulties, that 
were used grievously to perplex Mathematicians and Meta- 
physicians, were to sink before it : In short, it was to do 
such Peats in behalf of Knowledge, as no Principle beside 
was able to perform. But notwithstanding all these Benefits 
that were to accompany it, I do not find it has met with any 
favourable Eeception among the Literati; or that many 
Persons of Ability and Penetration are become Disciples: 
Its Fortune may now perhaps be more prosperous under the 
Auspices of its new Patron, who, we see, undertakes to raise 
it above all Opposition.' 

The intention to return to the subject was never fulfilled 
by the reviewer : neither the second nor the third volume is 
mentioned in the History of the Works of the Learned. 
With the exception of this criticism the Treatise was unno- 
ticed, and Hume believed that the labour of his life had been 
thrown away. This was the severest blow that Hume ever 
experienced, and its history supplies the clue to the develop- 
ment of his character. 

Henceforth, by a natural revulsion of sentiment, he re- 
garded the Treatise with aversion. This feeling was strength- 
ened by a growing dislike to the many faults of style which 
disfigure it. The abundant Scotticisms 2 became more and 

1 Berkeley's doctrine of Abstract " I wonder (said Johnson) that he should 
General Ideas. find them." ' Boswell. The collection 

2 ' I told him that David Hume had of Scotticisms is printed in Vol. iv. 
made a short collection of Scotticisms. 

d 2 



HG HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

more repugnant to a writer, who ardently desired to be mis- 
taken for an Englishman in grammar and diction. The 
constant repetition of such egotisms as ' I think' and 'I am 
convinc'd' disgusted a critic, who fastidiously weighed every 
phrase of his Essays as they passed through successive 
editions. The fragmentary nature of the argument : the 
lack of literary finish : the traces of a recluse, who had mixed 
little in society : the dogmatic tone of the argument : the 
dry, a priori mode of reasoning: the close adherence to the 
lines marked out by Locke and Berkeley, owing to which 
the Treatise can hardly stand alone : a certain want of cohe- 
rence between the various trains of thought : all these were 
further considerations which tended to inflame a bitter sense 
of mortification. Few men of letters have been at heart so 
vain and greedy of fame as was Hume. In all other respects 
he learned to school his temper; but his appetite for ap- 
plause was insatiable, and even his publisher had on occasion 
to rebuke the philosopher. 

Of his feelings at the time we possess no record ; but the 
following letter, written long afterwards, exhibits his maturer 
judgment. 

* I believe the Philosophical Essays contain every thing of 
consequence relating to the understanding, which you would 
meet with in the Treatise ; and I give you my advice against 
reading the latter. By shortening and simplifying the 
questions, I really render them much more complete. 
Addo dum minuo. The philosophical principles are the same 
in both ; but I was carried away by the heat of youth and 
invention to publish too precipitately. So vast an under- 
taking, planned before I was one-and-twenty, and composed 
before twenty-five, must necessarily be very defective. I 
have repented my haste a hundred, and a hundred times.' 1 

Another letter may be quoted ; to whom written, and when, 
is not known : Mr. Burton conjectures, at an advanced period 
of life. 

1 That you may see I would no way scruple of owning my 
mistakes in argument, I shall acknowledge (what is infinitely 
more material) a very great mistake in conduct, viz. my pub- 
lishing at all the " Treatise of Human Nature," a book which 
pretended to innovate in all the sublimest paths of philosophy, 
and which I composed before 1 was five-and-twenty ; above 
' Letter to Gilbert Elliot of Mmto, 1751. Uti. Vol. i., p. 337. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 37 

all, the positive air which prevails in that book, and which 
may be impnted to the ardour of youth, so much displeases 
me, that I have not patience to review it. But what success 
the same doctrines, better illustrated and expressed, may 
meet with, adhuc sub judice lis est. The arguments have been 
laid before the world, and by some philosophical minds have 
been attended to. I am willing to be instructed by the 
public ; though human life is so short, that I despair of ever 
seeing the decision. I wish I had always confined myself to 
the more easy parts of erudition ; but you will excuse me 
from submitting to a proverbial decision, let it even be in 
Greek. 5 

From these extracts it appears that the Treatise was written 
between one-and-twenty and five-and-twenty. In the Ad- 
vertisement to the posthumous edition of his Essays, he 
published the statement, that it was projected before he left 
college, and written and published * not long after.' There 
is some difficulty in these dates. Hume entered the Univer- 
sity of Edinburgh in 1723, when he was nearly twelve 
years of age. There is no direct evidence as to the time 
when he ' left college.' Mr. Burton says, ' We find him 
speaking of having received the usual college education of 
Scotland, which terminates when the student is fourteen or 
fifteen years old.' 2 In a letter already quoted (p. 19) Hume 
has spoken as if this had been his own case. If so, he left 
college, at latest, early in 1727, and as the Treatise was 
published in 1739, the interval was not a short one. It ap- 
pears probable that Hume confounded the date of leaving 
college with the year in which, as the same letter informs 
us, he first discovered a ' new medium, by which truth might 
be established.' This happened in 1729, when he was 
eighteen ; the next eight years were occupied in elaborating 
the discovery, and the work was definitely finished in 1736, 
before he ' was five-and-twenty,' and a year before he quitted 
La Fleche. 

It was in the Advertisement from which this statement 
has been quoted, that Hume expressed his desire, that the 
Treatise might no longer be regarded as expressing his 
sentiments. It runs as follows : 

' Most of the principles, and reasonings, contained in this 
volume, were published in a work in three volumes, called 
A Treatise of Human Nature i A work which the Author 

* Life. Vol. i., p. 98. * Life. Vol. i., p. 10. 



38 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

had projected before he left College, and which he wrote and 
published not long after. But not finding it successful, he 
was sensible of his error in going to the press too early, and 
he cast the whole anew in the following pieces, where some 
negligences in his former reasoning and more in the expres- 
sion, are, he hopes, corrected. Yet several writers, who have 
honoured the Author's Philosophy with answers, have taken 
care to direct all their batteries against that juvenile work, 
which the Author never acknowledged, and have affected to 
triumph in any advantages, which, they imagined, they had 
obtained over it : A practice very contrary to all rules of 
candour and fair-dealing, and a strong instance of those 
polemical artifices, which a bigotted zeal thinks itself autho- 
rised to employ. Henceforth, the Author desires, that the 
following Pieces may alone be regarded as containing his 
philosophical sentiments and principles.' 

This Advertisement was first printed by way of preface to 
the posthumous and authoritative edition of 1777. One 
blunder has already been examined. Another occurs in the 
assertion, that the whole had been cast anew in the In- 
quiries. Without going into details, we may mention that 
Vol. i., Part II., Of the Ideas of Space and Time, was 
indeed re-written, but the monograph never appeared ; and 
that Part IV. of the same volume, in many respects the most 
interesting portion of the Treatise, was never resumed. 

In the Life of Hume Mr. Burton appears, if not to have 
made a mistake about this Advertisement, at least to have 
written what is calculated to mislead. Speaking of the 
publication of the Inquiry concerning the Human Under- 
standing in 1748, he says : ' He now desired that the "Treatise 
of Human Nature " should be treated as a work blotted out 
of literature, and that the " Inquiry" should be substituted in 
its place. In the subsequent editions of the latter work, he 
complained that this had not been complied with ; that the 
world still looked at those forbidden volumes of which he had 
dictated the suppression.' l The only reference to the Treatise 
in Hume's writings is that in the Advertisement to the post- 
humous edition, which has just been quoted. 

But we quite agree with Mr. Burton, that it is impossible 
1 to detach this book from general literature.' In deference 
to Hume's wishes, an author should always remind his 

1 Life. Vol. i., p. 273. 






HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 39 

audience, if they require the warning, that the Treatise does 
not represent Hume's later sentiments ; and to those who 
are interested in the biographies of philosophers, this episode 
is interesting. But it would be ridiculous to consign such a 
book to oblivion out of respect to its author's change of 
feeling. By so doing, we should wilfully ignore some of the 
acutest speculations of one of our acutest thinkers ; and 
those, too, on points which are not discussed in any of his 
subsequent writings. We should miss the instructive lesson 
which is gained by observing how closely the course of his 
speculations was determined for him by Locke and Berkeley. 
We should lose the key to much philosophy, both Scotch and 
German. 

It would not appear requisite to say much on this head, 
but that men of mark, like Professor Fowler and Mr. Hunt, 
appear to pride themselves on ignorance of the Treatise. 
The former says (* Inductive Logic,' p. 24) : ' In quoting 
or referring to Hume, I have employed only his Essays. 
Many writers persist in making references to his Treatise of 
Human Nature, a work whi^h he himself repudiated, as 
containing an immature expression of his opinions. In the 
Advertisement to his Essays, he desires that "the follow- 
ing pieces may alone be regarded as containing the author's 
sentiments and principles." ' Mr. Hunt is more violent 
(' Contemporary Eeview,' May 1869 ; p. 79) : * Hume's first 
publication was the " Treatise of Human Nature." As this 
work was afterwards disowned by its author, we need not 
do more than mention it. Its place was supplied by the 
" Essays," in which the chief questions were treated with 
more accuracy and clearness, while many of the more intri- 
cate and ingenious but less important reasonings were 
omitted.' After this one is prepared to learn that Professor 
Fowler never quotes the iEneid as Virgil's, and that Mr. Hunt 
never quotes it at all. 1 

It might, perhaps, have been expected that Hume's resi- 
dence in France would have exercised a perceptible influence 
upon the reasonings of the Treatise. Yet it is not too much 
to say, that, with a few unimportant exceptions, there is no 
trace of it. The writer was little acquainted with, and is 

1 From Mr. Hunt's estimate of the hint that the advertisement was the 

relative merits of the Treatise and the posthumous utterance of a splenetic 

Essays, we presume to differ in toto. invalid. 
Professor Fowlers readers receive no 



40 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

little interested in, any foreign school of philosophy. His 
knowledge of Spinoza was derived from Bayle's dictionary. 
Twice he gives a direct reference to ' Malbranch.' He refers 
in one paragraph to the Port Royal Logic, whence, too, he 
borrows the instance of the chiliagon. There is no trace of a 
direct knowledge of Des Cartes. The only French writer, 
besides, whom he quotes for other than ornamental purposes, 
is Malezieu, and this reference, no doubt, owes its origin to 
Hume's residence at La Fleche. At least, the * Elements de 
Geomtrie de M. le due de Bourgoyne' does not seem to 
have been generally known in England ; and at the present 
day no copy of it is to be found in the British Museum, or in 
Bodley's Library. In short, the Treatise from beginning to 
end is the work of a solitary Scotchman, who has devoted 
himself to the critical study of Locke and Berkeley. That 
he lived for three years in France, was an accident which has 
left no trace either in the tone or in the matter of his book. 

In style, however, so far as the structure of sentences is 
concerned, no doubt he was already influenced by the litera- 
ture of France. 1 The style of the Treatise is indeed immature, 
but it reveals the tendencies which were ripened by inces- 
sant labour, until Hume became the one master of philosophic 
English. 

Whatever disappointment had fallen to Hume's share, so 
active and sanguine a mind could not lie quiet. In 1741 
he published anonymously a volume of ' Essays, Moral and 
Political ;' which ran into a * Second Edition, Corrected,' in 
the following year, when also a second volume was added. 

Unlike the ill-starred Treatise this venture was success- 
ful. Hume himself says in his Autobiography : ' In 1 742 I 
printed at Edinburgh the first part of my Essays : the work 
was favourably received, and soon made me entirely forget 
my former disappointment.' And in a letter to Henry Home, 
dated June 13, 1742, he adds : 2 * The Essays are all sold in 
London, as I am informed by two letters from English 
gentlemen of my acquaintance. There is a demand for 

1 'The conversation now turned upon allow that the English language is 

Mr.^ David Hume's style. Johnson : established, he is wrong. My name 

" Why, sir, his style is not English ; the might originally have been Nicholson, 

structure of his sentences is French. as well as Johnson, but were you to call 

Now the French structure and the Eng- me Nicholson, you would call me very 

lish structure may, in the nature of absurdly." ' Boswell. 

things, be equally good. But if you Life. Vol. i., p. 143. 






HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 41 

them ; and, as one of them tells me, Innys, the great book- 
seller in Paul's Churchyard, wonders there is not a new 
edition, for that he cannot find copies for his customers. I 
am also told that Dr. Butler has everywhere recommended 
them ; so that I hope they will have some success. They 
may prove like dung with marl, and bring forward the rest 
of my Philosophy, which is of a more durable, though of a 
harder and more stubborn nature. You see I can talk to you 
in your own style.' It appears that Hume was recovering 
from his disappointment, and was gratified to have won the 
ear of Bp. Butler, whose judgment on the ' Treatise ' he 
had been so anxious to obtain. 

But how were these Essays to bring forward the rest of 
his Philosophy? Like the Treatise, they were published 
anonymously: in the Advertisement he assumed the cha- 
racter of an author who is making his first appearance. 
There is no evidence to decide this question : but the conjec- 
ture is almost certain, that he had already determined to 
abandon the Treatise, and to reproduce portions of it in a 
more popular form. 

The Preface to the original volume of Essays, runs as 
follows : 

' Most of these Essays were wrote with a View of being pub- 
lished as Weekly-Papers, and were intended to comprehend 
the Designs both of the Spectators & Craftsmen". But 
having dropt that Undertaking, partly from Laziness, partly 
from Want of Leisure, and being willing to make Trial of 
my Talents for Writing, before I ventur'd upon any more 
serious Compositions, I was induced to communicate these 
Trifles to the Judgment of the Public. Like most new 
Authors, I must confess, I feel some Anxiety concerning the 
Success of my Work: But one Thing makes me more 
secure; That the Reader may condemn my Abilities, but 
must approve of my Moderation and Impartiality in my 
Method of handling Political Subjects : And as long as 
my Moral Character is in Safety, I can, with less Anxiety, 
abandon my Learning and Capacity to the most severe Cen- 
sure and Examination. Public Spirit, methinks, shou'd engage 
us to love the Public, and to bear an equal Affection to all 
our Country-Men ; not to hate one Half of them, under Pre- 
text of loving the Whole. This Party-Eage I have endea- 
vour'd to repress, as far as possible ; and I hope this Design 



42 HISTORY OF TTIE EDITIONS. 

will be acceptable to the moderate of both Parties ; at the 
same Time, that, perhaps, it may displease the Bigots of both. 

1 The Reader must not look for any Connexion among 
these Essays, but must consider each of them as a Work 
apart. This is an Indulgence that is given to all Essay- 
Writers, and is an equal Ease both to Writer and Reader, 
by freeing them from any tiresome stretch of Attention or 
Application.' 

The volume contains 15 Essays : 

1. Of the Delicacy of Taste and Reason. 

2. Of the Liberty of the Press. 

3. Of Impudence and Modesty. 

4. That Politics may be reduc'd to a Science. 

5. Of. the first Principles of Government. 

6. Of Love and Marriage. 

7. Of the Study of History. 

8. Of the Independency of Parliament. 

9. Whether the British Government inclines more to 

Absolute Monarchy or to a Republic. 

10. Of Parties in general. 

11. Of the Parties of Gt. Britain. 

12. Of Superstition and Enthusiasm. 

13. Of Avarice. 

14. Of the Dignity of Human Nature. 

15. Of Liberty and Despotism. 

The corrections in the second edition are few and unim- 
portant, chiefly concerning unguarded statements on points 
of Roman History. The Second Volume, which is not 
referred to in the title-page of either edition of the First, 
contains 12 Essays: 

1. Of Essay Writing. 

2. Of Eloquence. 

3. Of Moral Prejudices. 

4. Of the Middle Station of Life. 

5. Of the Rise and Progress of Arts and Sciences. 

6. The Epicurean. 

7. The Stoic. 

8. The Platonist. 

9. The Sceptic. 

10. Of Polygamy and Divorces. 

11. Of Simplicity and Refinement. 

12. A Character of Sir Robert Walpole. 






HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 43 

The first Essay in the second volume, Of Essay Writing, 
(which will be found at the end of vol. iv.), was certainly 
written, when the author designed, as he says in the Adver- 
tisement, to publish his Essays in a series of weekly papers, 
to which it would have served as an introduction. Lamenting 
that the Learned and the Conversible Worlds have been 
estranged of late, he proposes to act as an Ambassador 
between them, and to reside at the Court of the latter, where 
it will be his mission to communicate the latest news of the 
Learned World. He begins therefore by paying his respects 
to the fair sex, who constitute the Sovereignty of the King- 
dom, and invites them to imitate the example of Parisian 
Society by assuming the high functions of criticism and 
frowning down those barbarous eccentricities which disfigure 
English Literature. As he says elsewhere : ' 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.' 1 In this Essay he expresses 
himself confident, that if the Ladies only threw off a false 
shame, they might do much to ameliorate this state of 
things, there being only one branch of literature in which 
their judgment is to be distrusted, i.e. books of gallantry 
and devotion, ' which they commonly affect as high flown as 
possible.' It was no doubt with the design of conciliating 
his fair critics, that Hume included several papers on lighter 
subjects, such as Love and Marriage, Impudence and Modesty, 
&c, which can hardly have been much to their writer's taste, 
and which mingle strangely with a series of discussions on 
the British Constitution. Nor were they successful ; that 
the challenge was taken up by a coterie of ladies, who con- 
demned his efforts, appears from a letter to William Mure 
of Caldwell. 

4 With my humble compliments to the ladies, and tell 
them, I should endeavour to satisfy them, if they would name 
the subject of the essay they desire. For my part, I know 
not a better subject than themselves ; if it were not, that being 
accused of being unintelligible in some of my writings, I 
should be extremely in danger of falling into that fault, when 
I should treat of a subject so little to be understood as 
women. I would, therefore, rather have them assign me the 

1 Essay xii Dean Swift. 



41 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

deiform fund of the soul, the passive unions of nothing with 
nothing, or any other of those mystical points, which I 
would endeavour to clear up, and render perspicuous to the 
meanest readers.' 1 

With this Essay six others may be classed, apparently 
designed to attract the attention of ladies, and marked by 
the mannerisms of what was then a fashionable literature. 
The paper ' Of Moral Prejudices ' contains the character of 
an imaginary Eugenius, and a narrative of French gallantry, 
which a purer taste rejected. That on the ' Middle Station of 
Life ' cannot have cost much pains, and abounds in expres- 
sions of personal opinion. These three were never reprinted. 
The next to go were those on * Impudence,' on ' Love 
and Marriage,' and on the ' Study of History,' lingering, 
however, to the Edition of 1764 : that they survived so long, 
is, perhaps, surprising. Lastly, the ' Essay on Avarice ' was 
dropt in the Edition of 1770. 

The ' Political Essays ' are the most valuable part of these 
two volumes. It is probable that portions of them existed 
in manuscript, before the publication of the Treatise, and 
that in printing them Hume was redeeming his conditional 
promise, made in the Advertisement to the first volume of 
the ' Treatise,' to ' proceed to the examination of Morals, 
Politics, and Criticism.' Of Morals he had treated in the 
volume of 1740; the Essays of 1741-2 handle political, and, 
to some extent, critical questions. 

The Political Essays do not attempt to found a system : 
they are entirely special in their character, dealing with the 
topics of the day. It is true that Hume enriches them with 
brief discussions of political principles, and with a copious 
fund of historical illustration. But these episodes were 
conventional, suiting the fashion of an age which delighted 
in references to the statesmanship of Athens and Eome, ard 
to the fortunes of Venice and Poland. "What is peculiar 
to the author, will be found in his treatment of the debated 
questions of the Freedom of the Press, the Independency of 
Parliament, and the nature of Parties. In this choice of sub- 
jects he followed the * Craftsman ' ; and the best illustration of 
these papers is to be found in the numbers of that journal. 
They frequently read like a running criticism upon the argu- 
ments of the * Craftsman,' and even particular phrases and 
Latin quotations are borrowed thence. But their passionless 
Life. Vol. i., p. 1.39. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 45 

moderation contrasts strongly with the savage invectives of 
' Mist's Journal ' and the * Craftsman,' and must have re- 
commended itself to Dr. Butler quite apart from the pene- 
trating insight which divides so sharply the contemporaneous 
questions of politics. 

Of this group of Essays perhaps the best remembered is 
the Character of Sir Eobert Walpole. Of this Hume said in 
the Advertisement : 

' The character of Sir Eobert Walpole was drawn some 
months ago, when that Great Man was in the Zenith of his 
Power. I must confess, that, at present, when he seems to 
be upon the Decline, I am inclin'd to think more favourably 
of him, and to suspect, that the Antipathy, which every true 
born Briton naturally bears to Ministers of State, inspir'd 
me with some Prejudice against him. The impartial 
Reader, if any such there be ; or Posterity, if such a Trifle 
can reach them, will be best able to correct any Mistakes 
in this Particular.' 

In the edition of 1748, this Essay was degraded to the 
rank of a foot-note, and appended to the paper headed ' That 
Politics may be reduced to a Science.' The Advertisement 
having disappeared, it was prefaced as follows : ' What our 
author's opinion was of the famous minister here pointed 
at, may be learned from that essay, printed in the former 
editions,' it only so occurs in Edition C ' under the title of 
A Character of Sir Robert Walpole. It was as follows.' 
The Essay will be found in vol. iv. ' The author is 
pleased to find, that after animosities are laid, and calumny 
has ceased, the whole nation almost have returned to the 
same moderate sentiments with regard to this great man, if 
they are not rather become more favourable to him, by a very 
natural transition, from one extreme to another. The 
author would not oppose those humane sentiments towards 
the dead ; though he cannot forbear observing that the not 
paying more of our public debts was, as hinted in this 
character, a great, and the only great error in that long 
administration.' In 1770, the whole was omitted. 

After these may be placed a group of Essays, on which the 
author had expended more than ordinary care, ornamenting 
them with florid imagery, and polishing the sentences with 
such precision, that the subsequent editions made scarcely 
an alteration in their language. Of these he says in the 
Advertisement : ' 'Tis proper to inform the Reader, that, in 



4G HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

those Essays, intitled, the Epicurean, Stoic, &c, a certain 
Character is personated ; and therefore, no Offence ought to 
be taken at any Sentiments contain'd in them.' Offence is 
not likely to be taken ; but the question has been mooted, 
whether any one of them gives evidence of a bias in the 
author's mind. Mr. Burton decides in favour of ' The Stoic ' : 
'The reader expects to find an attempt to draw his own 
picture in " The Sceptic," but it is not to be found there. 
The sceptic of the essays is not a man analyzing the prin- 
ciples of knowledge, to find wherein they consist, but one 
who is dissatisfied with rules of morality, and who, examining 
the current codes one after another, tosses them aside as un- 
satisfactory. It is into "The Stoic" that the writer has 
thrown most of his heart and sympathy ; and it is in that 
sketch that, though probably without intention, some of the 
features of his own character are portrayed. There are 
passages which have considerable unison of tone with those 
autobiographical documents already quoted, in which he 
describes himself as having laboured to subdue the rebellious 
passions, to reduce the mind to a regulated system, to drive 
from it the influence of petty impressions, to hold one great 
object of life in view, and to sacrifice before that object 
whatever stood in the way of his firmly settled purpose/ ! It 
is true that there are sentences in * The Stoic ' which justify 
this statement. It is also true that the opening paragraphs 
of ' The Sceptic ' do not represent Hume's habitual state of 
mind. On reviewing the Treatise and the Inquiries, a re- 
markable difference will be found between his treatment of 
metaphysical and of moral questions. In discussing the 
former, he is uniformly sceptical; in discussing the latter, he 
assumes an opposite attitude, and becomes dogmatic in his 
enunciations. He not merely dissents from those who deny 
the reality of moral distinctions ; he brands them with the 
character of disingenuous disputants. The same impatience 
breaks out when he considers the fashionable belief which 
resolved all the virtues into modes of self-love. So far, then, 
as * The Sceptic ' tosses aside the current codes as unsatis- 
factory, without substituting a better system, it is written 
in character, and the author is not chargeable with its sen- 
timents. It may be added that a strong tendency to mate- 
rialistic explanations pervades these portions, whereas in 

1 Life. Vol. i., p. 142. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 47 

1 The Treatise ' Hume only resorts to that hypothesis when 
he is driven to extremities. But after allowance has been 
made for these points of divergence from his usual methods, 
it cannot fail to be remarked, that whereas in the companion 
Essays Hume adopted a high-flown style which is unique in 
his writings, in ' The Sceptic ' he returns to that sober and 
quiet English, which was not more in accordance with the 
immediate occasion, than with his habitual tone of thought. 
The practical maxims for the rule of life agree as closely 
with his biography as the scattered sentences in ' The Stoic' 
The pungent criticism of Pope's argument expressed briefly 
what he wrote at large in his Inquiry concerning the Prin- 
ciples of Morals ; and lastly, whereas ' The Stoic,' ' The Pla- 
tonist,' and ' The Epicurean ' are dismissed without comment, 
a note is added to ' The Sceptic ' for the express purpose of 
setting out the whole truth, in which the preceding para- 
graphs are only corrected because they are incomplete. 

For three years Hume continued to reside in Edinburgh, 
and made an attempt to succeed Dr. Pringle in the chair of 
Ethics and Pneumatic Philosophy. Then, in 1745, he ac- 
cepted an engagement to act as tutor to the Marquis of 
Annandale, an irritable invalid, ' who was,' according to an 
expression used by Sir James Johnstone, when writing to 
Hume, c charmed with something contained in his Essays.' 
The narrative of the disputes and intrigues which finally 
drove Hume away in April '46, will be found in Mr. Burton's 
' Life of Hume.' In the same year he went as secretary with 
General St. Clair on an expedition which sailed from Ply- 
mouth September 14, to attack Port L'Orient, and was 
appointed Judge Advocate of all the forces under command. 
On their return, he passed a few months at Mnewells^ and 
then, in February, 1748, accepted an invitation from General 
St. Clair again to accompany him as secretary on a diplo- 
matic mission to the court of Turin, which lasted till the end 
of the year. 

But during the quiet time which preceded his engagements 
with General St. Clair, Hume had not been idle. From ex- 
pressions dropt in his correspondence it appears that as early 
as 1746 he had formed the project of writing history. For 
the present these plans were allowed to stand over. But 
during the year 1748 two works appeared, of which he thus 
speaks in a letter to H. Home, February 9 : 



48 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

* I leave here two works going on : a new edition of my 
Essays, all of which you have seen, except one, " Of the 
Protestant Succession," where I treat that subject as coolly 
and indiiferently as I would the dispute between Caesar and 
Pompey. The conclusion shows me a Whig, but a very 
sceptical one. Some people would frighten me with the 
consequences that may attend this candour, considering my 
present station ; but I own I cannot apprehend any thing. 

' The other work is the " Philosophical Essays," which you 
dissuaded me from printing. I won't justify the prudence 
of this step, any other way than by expressing my indifference 
about all the consequences that may follow.' 1 

Ifc will be convenient to consider the new edition first, which 
is advertised in the ' Gentleman's Magazine ' for November, 
1748, about the date of Hume's return from Turin. This 
reprint was the first of his publications that bore the Author's 
name. According to the autobiography the sale was in- 
different. Few changes had been made. As has already 
been said, the character of Sir E. Walpole was now given as 
a foot-note ; and three papers, Of Essay Writing, Of Moral 
Prejudices, and Of the Middle Station of Life were omitted. 
In their place three new Essays were inserted. 

Those on Original Contract and on Passive Obedience 
pursue the same vein of political inquiry which had been so 
successfully worked in the first edition. They are distin- 
guished by the same tone of impartial criticism, and apply 
the same principles : but this judicial attitude causes less 
surprise where the controversy is one that had ceased to rage, 
and that occupied but a secondary place in public debate. 

The Essay * Of the Protestant Succession,' which was spoken 
of in the last extract from his correspondence, was not 
printed. It was held over until the publication of his Poli- 
tical Discourses in 1752, where it appeared incongruously 
enough. The result disappointed his fears. In a letter to 
Dr. Clephane, dated February 4, 1752, he says : 

1 About a fortnight before, I had published a Discourse 
of the Protestant Succession, wherein I had very liberally 
abused both Whigs and Tories ; yet I enjoyed the favour of 
both parties.' 2 

The third Essay, which was now printed for the first time, 
'Of National Characters,' is of some interest, because it 

' Life. Vol. i., p. 239. * Life. Vol. i., p. 372. 



HISTOKY OF THE EDITIONS. 49 

directly enters upon a topic which is rarely mentioned in 
Hume's philosophical writings, although they frequently sug- 
gest it. In it he examined the influence of physical condi- 
tions on the temper and genius of men : but although he 
was always delighted to point out the extravagant variations 
in moral customs and religious observances which exist 
among neighbouring races, he distinctly asserted on this 
occasion that ' physical causes have no discernible operation 
on the human mind : ' and that ' if we run over the globe, or 
revolve the annals of history, we shall discern everywhere 
signs of a sympathy or contagion of manners, none of the 
influence of air and climate : ' and the only exceptions to this 
statement are the jealous love of southern climates and the 
propensity of northern races t^ drinking. 

In the April of the same year, before starting for Turin, 
he had published ' Philosophical Essays concerning Human 
Understanding by the Author of The Essays Moral and Poli- 
tical,' a new edition of which appeared, as we have seen, with 
the author's name in the following November. There is no 
preface or advertisement to these Essays. It is a rare book, 
not to be found in the British Museum, the Bodleian, or the 
Advocates' Library. This then was the first instalment of 
his design to recast the unfortunate Treatise piece by piece. 
Of this he says in his Autobiography : 

6 I had always entertained a notion, that my want of suc- 
cess in publishing the Treatise of Human Nature, had pro- 
ceeded 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, therefore, cast the first part of that work 
anew in the Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, 
which was published while I was at Turin.' Here his me- 
mory failed him. * But this piece was at first little more 
successful 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 performance was entirely overlooked and neglected.' 

The rarity of the book confirms these statements; but 
there are circumstances which indicate that, although the 
work was neglected at first, it began to sell before long, 
assisted, perhaps, by the revelation of the author's name in 
November. In a letter dated April 18, 1750, Hume says : 
You'll scarcely believe what I am going to tell you ; but it 

VOL. III. E 



50 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

is literally true. Millar had printed off, some months ago, a 
new edition of certain philosophical essays, but he tells me 
very gravely that he has delayed publishing because of the 
earthquakes.' 1 In his Autobiography, he says further: 'Mean- 
while, my bookseller, A. Millar, informed me that my former 
publications (all but the unfortunate Treatise) were begin- 
ning to be the subject of conversation ; that the sale of them 
was gradually increasing, and that new editions were de- 
manded. Answers by Reverends and Eight Reverends, came 
out two or three in a year ; and I found, by Dr. Warburton's 
railing, that the books were beginning to be esteemed in 
good company.' A specimen of ' Dr. Warburton's railing' is 
given by Bishop Hurd : ' In a letter of September 28, of 
that year (1749), to a friend at Cambridge, he says, "I am 
tempted to have a stroke at Hume in parting. He is the 
author of a little book called Philosophical Essays : In one 
part of which he argues against the being of a God, and in 
another (very needlessly, you will say) against the possibility 
of miracles. He has crowned the liberty of the press. And 
yet he has a considerable post under the government. I have 
a great mind to do justice on his arguments against mira- 
cles, which I think might be done in few words. But does 
he deserve this notice? Is he known amongst you? Pray, 
answer me these questions. For if his own weight keeps 
him down, T should be sorry to contribute to his advance- 
ment to any place, but the pillory." No encouraging answer, 
I suppose, was returned to this letter ; and so the author of 
the Essays escaped for this time.' a 

A ' few words' from the ' arguments against miracles' ap- 
pear among Warburton's Unfinished Papers, p. 311. 

The Essay on Miracles has a history of its own. In a 
letter to Principal Campbell, dated February 7, 1762, Hume 
gives an account of the circumstances which first led him to 
that train of thought. 

' It may perhaps amuse you to learn the first hint, which 
suggested to me that argument which you have so strenuously 
attacked. I was walking in the cloisters of the Jesuits' 
College of La Fleche, a town in which I passed two years of 
my youth, and engaged in a conversation with a Jesuit of 
some parts and learning, who was relating to me, and urging 
some nonsensical miracle performed lately in their convent, 
when I was tempted to dispute against him ; and as my head 

Life, vol. i. p. 300. > Kurd's Life of Wurburton. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 51 

was full of the topics of my Treatise of Human Nature, 
which I was at that time composing, this argument imme- 
diately occurred to me, and I thought it very much gravelled 
my companion ; but at last he observed to me, that it was 
impossible for that argument to have any solidity, because it 
operated equally against the Gospel as the Catholic miracles ; 
which observation I thought proper to admit as a sufficient 
answer. I believe you will allow, that the freedom at least 
of this reasoning makes it somewhat extraordinary to have 
been the produce of a convent of Jesuits, though perhaps 
you may think the sophistry of it savours plainly of the 
place of its birth.' ' 

Again in the letter to H. Home of December 2, 1737, from 
which an extract has already been given, 2 he says further : 

' Having a franked letter, I was resolved to make use of 
it ; and accordingly enclose some " Reasonings concerning 
Miracles" which I once thought of publishing with the rest/ 
but which I am afraid will give too much offence, even as the 
world is disposed at present. There is something in the turn 
of thought, and a good deal in the turn of expression, which 
will not perhaps appear so proper, for want of knowing the 
context : but the force of the argument you'll be judge of, as 
it stands. Tell me your thoughts of it. Is not the style too 
diffuse? though, as that was a popular argument, I have 
spread it out much more than the other parts of the work. 
I beg of you to show it to nobody, except to Mr. Hamilton, 
if he pleases ; and let me know at your leisure that you have 
received it, read it, and burnt it.' 3 

The second edition of the Philosophical Essays, which had 
been delayed by the earthquakes, appeared in 1751, and bore 
the author's name on the title-page. Few changes were 
made. Section xi. now received the heading Of a Parti- 
cular Providence and of a Future State, having previously 
been called Of the Practical Consequences of Natural Ee- 
ligion. 

These two editions contain the unguarded statement, 
* upon the whole, then, it appears, that no testimony for any 
kind of miracle can ever amount to a probability, much less 
to a proof.' For the words in italics he subsequently wrote, 
' has ever amounted.' , 

In the December of the same year he published an En- 

1 Life, vol. i. p. 57. 2 Ibid. p. 18. 3 Ibid. p. 63. 

k 2 



52 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

quiry concerning the Principles of Morals : ' which in my 
own opinion (who ought not to judge on that subject) is of 
all my writings, historical, philosophical, or literary, incom- 
parably the best. It came unnoticed and unobserved into 
the world.' 

The Dialogue which is contained in this volume, was a 
very favourite piece with its author. In a letter to Gilbert 
Elliot (February 10, 1751), he says: 

6 About six week ago, I gave our friend, Jack Stuart, the 
trouble of delivering you a letter, and some papers enclosed, 
which I was desirous to submit to your criticism and exami- 
nation. I say not this by way of compliment and ceremonial, 
but seriously and in good earnest : it is pretty usual for 
people to be pleased with their own performance, especially 
in the heat of composition ; but I have scarcely wrote any 
thing more whimsical, or whose merit I am more diffident 
of.' 1 

Elliot's reply may be quoted as an additional illustration of 
the difference in Hume's handling of ethical questions. 

* I have read over your Dialogue, with all the application 
1 am master of. Though I have never looked into any thing 
of your writing, which did not either entertain or instruct 
me ; yet, I must freely own to you, that I have received from 
this last piece an additional satisfaction, and what indeed I 
have a thousand times wished for in some of your other per- 
formances. In the first part of this work, you have given 
full scope to the native bent of your genius. The ancients 
and moderns, how opposite soever in other respects, equally 
combine in favour of the most unbounded scepticism. Prin- 
ciples, customs, and manners, the most contradictory, all 
seemingly lead to the same end ; and agreeably to your 
laudable practice, the poor reader is left in the most dis- 
consolate state of doubt and uncertainty. When I had got 
thus far, what do you think were my sentiments ? I will not 
be so candid as to tell you ; but how agreeable was my sur- 
prise, when I found you had led me into this maze, with no 
other view, than to point out to me more clearly the direct 
road. Why can't you always write in this manner ? Indulge 
yourself as much as you will in starting difficulties, and per- 
plexing received opinions: but let us be convinced at length, 
that you have not less ability to establish true principles, 
than subtlety to detect false ones. This unphilosophieal, or, 
1 Life, vol. i. p. 321. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 63 

if you will, this lazy disposition of mine, you are at liberty 
to treat as you think proper ; yet I am no enemy to free en- 
quiry, and I would gladly natter myself, no slave to prejudice 
or authority. I admit also that there is no writing or talking 
of any subject that is of importance enough to become the 
object of reasoning, without having recourse to some degree 
of subtlety or refinement. The only question is, where to 
stop, how far we can go, and why no farther. To this 
question I should be extremely happy to receive a satisfactory 
answer. I can't tell if I shall rightly express what I have 
just now in my mind : but I often imagine to myself, that I 
perceive within me a certain instinctive feeling, which shoves 
away at once all subtle refinements, and tells me with autho- 
rity, that these air-built notions are inconsistent with life 
and experience, and, by consequence, cannot be true or solid. 
From this I am led to think, that the speculative principles 
of our nature ought to go hand in hand with the practical 
ones ; and, for my own part, when the former are so far 
pushed, as to leave the latter quite out of sight, I am always 
apt to suspect that we have transgressed our limits. If it 
should be asked how far will these practical principles go ? 
I can only answer, that the former difficulty will recur, unless 
it be found that there is something in the intellectual part of 
our nature, resembling the moral sentiment in the moral 
part of our nature, which determines this, as it were, in- 
stinctively. Very possibly I have wrote nonsense. However, 
this notion first occurred to me at London, in conversation 
with a man of some depth of thinking ; and talking of it 
since to your friend H. Home, he seems to entertain some 
notions nearly of the same kind, and to have pushed them 
much farther. 

* This is but an idle digression, so I return to the Dialogue. 

* With regard to the composition in general, I have nothing 
to observe, as it appears to me to be conducted with the 
greatest propriety, and the artifice in the beginning occasions, 
I think, a very agreeable surprise. I don't know, if, in the 
account of the modern manners, you [had] an eye to 
Bruyere's introduction to his translation of Theophrastes. 
If you had not, as he has a thought handled pretty much in 
that manner, perhaps looking into it might furnish some 
farther hints to embellish that part of your work.' l 

1 Life, vol. i. p. 323. 



64 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

Hume replies : 

c Your notion of correcting subtlety of sentiment, is cer- 
tainly very just with regard to morals, which depend upon 
sentiment ; and in politics and natural philosophy, what- 
ever conclusion is contrary to certain matters of fact, must 
certainly be wrong, and there must some error lie somewhere 
in the argument, whether we be able to show it or not. But 
in metaphysics or theology, I cannot see how either of 
these plain and obvious standards of truth can have place. 
Nothing there can correct bad reasoning but good reasoning, 
and sophistry must be opposed by syllogisms. About seventy 
or eighty years ago, I observe, a principle like that which 
you advance prevailed very much in France among some 
philosophers and beaux esprits. The occasion of it was this : 
The famous Mons. Mcole of the Port Royal, in his Perpetuite 
de la Foi y pushed the Protestants very hard upon the im- 
possibility of the people's reaching a conviction of their 
religion by the way of private judgment ; which required so 
many disquisitions, reasonings, researches, eruditions, im- 
partiality, and penetration, as not one in a hundred even 
among men of education, is capable of. Mons. Claude and 
the Protestants answered him, not by solving his difficulties 
(which seems impossible), but by retorting them (which is 
very easy). They showed that to reach the way of authority 
which the Catholics insist on, as long a train of acute rea- 
soning, and as great erudition, was requisite, as would be 
sufficient for a Protestant. We must first prove all the 
truths of natural religion, the foundation of morals, the 
divine authority of the Scripture, the deference which it 
commands to the church, the tradition of the church, &c. 
The comparison of these controversial writings begot an idea 
in some, that it was neither by reasoning nor authority we 
learn our religion, but by sentiment : and certainly this were 
a very convenient way, and what a philosopher would be very 
well pleased to comply with, if he could distinguish sentiment 
from education. But to all appearance the sentiment of 
Stockholm, Geneva, Rome ancient and modern, Athens and 
Memphis, have the same characters ; and no sensible man 
can implicitly assent to any of them, but from the general 
principle, that as the truth in these subjects is beyond human 
capacity, and that as for one's own ease he must adopt some 
tenets, there is most satisfaction and convenience in holding 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 55 

to the Catholicism we have been first taught. Now this I 
have nothing to say against. I have only to observe, that 
such a conduct is founded on the most universal and deter- 
mined scepticism, joined to a little indolence ; for more 
curiosity and research gives a direct opposite turn from the 
same principles.' l 

During the same period Hume composed the ' Dialogues 
concerning Natural Religion,' of which Mr. Burton says : 

' The manuscript of this work is full of emendations and 
corrections ; and while the sentiments appear to be substan- 
tially the same as when they were first set down, the alterations 
in the method of announcing them are a register of the 
improvements in their author's style, for a period apparently 
of twenty-seven years. Here at least he could not plead the 
excuse of youth and indiscretion. The work, penned in the 
full vigour of his faculties, comes to us with the sanction of 
his mature years, and his approval when he was within sight 
of the grave. Whatever sentiments, therefore, in this work, 
may be justly found to excite censure, carry with them a 
reproach from which their author's name cannot escape.' a 

Hume's friends prevailed on him not to publish the Dia- 
logues, fearing that the odium under which he laboured, 
would be fanned to a flame, and the prospects of the author 
materially injured. In a letter to Elliot, dated March 12, 
1 763, he complains : ' Is it not hard and tyrannical in you, 
more hard and tyrannical than any act of the Stuarts, not to 
allow me to publish my Dialogues P Pray, do you not think 
that a proper dedication may atone for what is exceptionable 
in them ? I am become of my friend Corbyn Morrice's mind, 
who says, that he writes all his books for the sake of the 
dedications.' 3 Such caution was unnecessary, when Hume 
settled down to pass the remainder of his days in ease and 
comfort at Edinburgh, enjoying an abundant income, and 
surrounded by a society of affectionate friends, familiar with 
his tenets and not likely to be estranged by any new publi- 
cation of them. Yet the Dialogues remained in manuscript. 
The history of their posthumous publication will be found 
at p. 77. 

These four years must have been the busiest period of 
Hume's lifetime. Not content with preparing the new edition 
of the Essay on the Human Understanding, and writing 
1 Life, vol. i. p. 325. Ibid. p. 328. 3 Ibid. vol. ii. p. 146. 



56 HISTORY OF T11E EDITIONS. 

the companion treatise on Moral Philosophy, and with com- 
pleting the Dialogues, he was all the while, as his corre- 
spondence shows, actively employed upon the Political 
Discourses, which were published in February 1752: 'the 
only work of mine that was successful on the first publica- 
tion.' A reprint appeared before the close of the year. 

After remarking on the value and fame of these essays, 
Mr. Burton proceeds to say : 

1 The " Political Discourses " introduced Hume to the 
literature of the continent. The works of Quesnay, Riviere, 
Mirabeau, Raynal, and Turgot, had not yet appeared, but the 
public mind of France had been opened for novel doctrines 
by the bold appeal of Yauban, and by the curious and 
original enquiries of Montesquieu. The Discourses appear 
to have been first translated by Eleazer Mauvillon, a native 
of Provence, and private secretary to Frederic Augustus, 
King of Poland, who published his translation in 1753. 
Another, and better known translation, by the Abbe Le 
Blanc, was published in 1754.' 1 

Perhaps, however, the Essay which is best known at the 
present day, is that on the Populousness of Ancient Na- 
tions : no inadequate monument of the author's reading 
and judgment. The first mention of it in his correspondence 
occurs in the letter to Dr. Clephane, April 18, 1750 : 

1 You would perhaps ask, how I employ my time in this 
leisure and solitude, and what are my occupations ? Pray, 
do you expect I should convey to you an encyclopedia, in the 
compass of a letter ? The last thing I took my hand from 
was a very learned, elaborate discourse, concerning the popu- 
lousness of antiquity ; not altogether in opposition to Vossius 
and Montesquieu, who exaggerate that affair infinitely ; but, 
starting some doubts, and scruples, and difficulties, suffi- 
cient to make us suspend our judgment on that head. 
Amongst other topics, it fell in my way to consider the 
greatness of ancient Rome ; and in looking over the discourse, 
I find the following period. "If we may judge by the 
younger Pliny's account of his house, and by the plans of 
ancient buildings in Dr. Mead's collection, the men of quality 
had very spacious palaces, and their buildings were like the 
Chinese houses, where each apartment is separate from the 
rest, and rises no higher than a single story." Pray, on 

1 Life, vol. i. p. 365. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 57 

what authority are those plans founded? If I remember 
right, I was told they were discovered on the walls of the 
baths, and other subterraneous buildings. Is this the proper 
method of citing them ? If you have occasion to communi- 
cate this to Dr. Mead, I beg that my sincere respects may be 
joined.' ! 

On February 18, 1751, he enquires again : 

1 When I take a second perusal of your letter, I find you 
resemble the Papists, who deal much in penitence, but neglect 
extremely les bonnes oeuvres. I asked you a question with 
regard to the plans of ancient buildings in Dr. Mead's col- 
lection. Pray, are they authentic enough to be cited in a 
discourse of erudition and reasoning P have they never been 
published in any collection ? and what are the proper terms 
in which I ought to cite them ? I know you are a great pro- 
ficient in the virtu, and consequently can resolve my doubts. 
This word I suppose you pretend to speak with an (e), which 
I own is an improvement : but admitting your orthography, 
yon must naturally have a desire of doing a good-natured 
action, and instructing the ignorant.' 2 

In the Essay Bartoli's name appears, not Dr. Mead's. 

On February 19, 1751, he writes to Elliot: 

* I have amused myself lately with an essay or dissertation 
on the populousness of antiquity, which led me into many 
disquisitions concerning both the public and domestic life of 
the ancients. Having read over almost all the classics both 
Greek and Latin, since I formed that plan, I have extracted 
what served most to my purpose. But I have not a Strabo, 
and know not where to get one in this neighbourhood. He 
is an author I never read. I know your library I mean the 
Advocates' is scrupulous of lending classics ; but perhaps 
that difficulty may be got over. I should be much obliged 
to you, if you could procure me the loan of a copy, either in 
the original language or even in a good translation.' 3 

Later on he returns Strabo, whom he has ' found very 
judicious and useful.' 

The Essay was accompanied by the following note : 

* An eminent clergyman in Edinburgh, having wrote, some 
years ago, a discourse on the same question with this, of the 
populousness of antient nations, was pleas'd lately to com- 
municate it to the author. It maintain'd the opposite side 

1 Life, vol. i. p. 297. 2 Ibid. p. 316. 3 Ibid. p. 326. 



58 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

of the argument, to what is here insisted on, and contained 
much erudition and good reasoning. The author acknow- 
ledges to have borrow'd, with some variations, from that dis- 
course, two computations, that with regard to the number of 
inhabitants in Belgium, and that with regard to those in 
Epirus. If this learned gentleman be prevail'd on to publish 
his dissertation, it will serve to give great light into the pre- 
sent question, the most curious and important of all ques- 
tions of erudition.' 

Dr. Wallace accepted the invitation, and published his 
discourse the year following anonymously : ' A dissertation 
on the numbers of mankind in antient and modern times ; 
with an appendix containing observations on the same sub- 
ject, and remarks on Mr. Hume's discourse on the populous- 
ness of antient nations.' Hence in the editions from 1 756 to 
1 768 another note was substituted for the preceding : 

* An ingenious writer has honoured this discourse with an 
answer, full of politeness, erudition, and good sense. So 
learned a refutation would have made the author suspect, 
that his reasonings were entirely overthrown, had he not 
used the precaution, from the beginning, to keep himself on 
the sceptical side ; and having taken this advantage of the 
ground, he was enabled, tho' with much inferior forces, to 
preserve himself from a total defeat. That Reverend gentle- 
man will always find, where his antagonist is so entrenched, 
that it will be difficult to force him. Varro, in such a situa- 
tion, could defend himself against Hannibal, Pharnaces 
against Caesar. The author, however, very willingly acknow- 
ledges, that his antagonist has detected many mistakes both 
in his authorities and reasonings ; and it was owing entirely 
to that gentleman's indulgence, that many more errors were 
not remarked. In this edition, advantage has been taken of 
his learned animadversions, and the Essay has been rendered 
less imperfect than formerly.' 

Nevertheless, the corrections introduced at Dr. Wallace's 
suggestion are very few, and the vast majority of the * anim- 
adversions' were passed over in silence. A misquotation 
from Livy was omitted : l a paragraph was inserted quoting 
Justin 9 ; a new note was given to strengthen the argument 
about Thebes : 3 and a trifling correction was introduced in a 

1 Page 386. 2 Page 42.3. * Page 422. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 59 

reference to Diodorus. 1 Perhaps this list exhausts the altera- 
tions which were due to Dr. Wallace. 2 

The circumstances under which the paper, Of the Protest- 
ant Succession, was inserted in this volume, have already 
been detailed. 3 

In 1752 Hume was appointed Keeper of the Advocates' 
Library. This position, giving him ' the command of a large 
library,' finally determined him to gratify his long cherished 
design of writing history, and from this time he almost 
abandoned philosophy. The first volume of the History of 
Great Britain, containing the reigns of James I. and 
Charles I., appeared in the autumn of 1754. Previously, 
however, he had collected the varied labours of thirteen years 
in a uniform edition, in four volumes ; the first three being 
published in 1753, and the fourth in 1754. In a letter to 
Adam Smith, September 24, 1752, he says: 

? I am just now diverted for a moment, by correcting my 
" Essays Moral and Political," for a new edition. If any 
thing occur to you to be inserted or retrenched, I shall be 
obliged to you for the hint. In case you should not have the 
last edition by you, I shall send you a copy of it. In that 
edition I was engaged to act contrary to my judgment, in 
retaining the sixth and seventh Essays, which I had resolved 
to throw out, as too frivolous for the rest, and not very agree- 
able neither, even in that trifling manner : but Millar, my 
bookseller, made such protestations against it, and told me 
how much he had heard them praised by the best judges, 
that the bowels of a parent melted, and I preserved them 
alive.' 4 

For the second time Hume relented ; no change was made 
in the list of contents, but the numerous notes added in this 
edition, abounding in references to Greek and Latin litera- 
ture, show how well he used the Advocates' Library. 

About this period Hume began a translation of Plutarch's 
Lives, but soon laid it aside. He declined an invitation 
from Millar to edit a newspaper in London. In 1756 the 
second volume of the History brought down the narrative 
to the Revolution. 

1 Page 424. was taken of the objection. 

2 He also objected, that he could not 3 Vol. i. p. 449. 
find the passage referred to in Isocrates' 4 Life, vol. i. p. 375. 
Panegyric (note 6, p. 390), but no notice 



60 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

In 1755 Hume wrote to Millar: 

1 1 give you a great many thanks for thinking of me in 
your project of a weekly paper. I approve very much of the 
design, as you explain it to me ; and there is nobody I would 
more willingly engage with. But, as I have another work in 
hand, which requires great labour and care to finish, I cannot 
think of entering on a new undertaking, till I have brought 
this to a conclusion. Your scheme would require me imme- 
diately to remove to London ; and I live here, at present, in 
great tranquillity, with all my books around me; and I can- 
not think of changing while I have so great a work in hand 
as the finishing of my History. 

* There are four short Dissertations, which I have kept 
some years by me, in order to polish them as much as pos- 
sible. One of them is that which Allan Eamsay mentioned 
to you. Another, of the Passions ; a third, of Tragedy ; a 
fourth, some Considerations previous to Geometry and 
Natural Philosophy. The whole, I think, would make a 
volume, a fourth less than my Inquiry, as nearly as I can 
calculate ; but it would be proper to print it in a larger type, 
in order to bring it to the same size and price. I would have 
it published about the new year ; and I offer you the pro- 
perty for fifty guineas, payable at the publication. You may 
judge, by my being so moderate in my demands, that I do 
not propose to make any words about the bargain. It would 
be more convenient for me to print here, especially one of the 
Dissertations, where there is a good deal of literature ; but, 
as the manuscript is distinct and accurate, it would not be 
impossible for me to correct it, though printed at London. 
I leave it to your choice ; though I believe that it might be 
as cheaply and conveniently and safely executed here. 
However, the matter is pretty near indifferent to me.' 1 

The volume was not completed until early in 1757, when 
it appeared with the following title Four Dissertions. 1. 
The Natural History of Eeligion. 2. Of the Passions. 3. 
Of Tragedy. 4. Of the Standard of Taste. By David Hume, 
Esq.' 

From this list of contents ' the Considerations previous to 
Geometry and Natural Philosophy ' will be missed : they 
were never published. There can be no doubt that they 
embodied Part II. Book I. of the Treatise. Why they were 
withdrawn, we can only conjecture : perhaps the author 

1 Life, vol. i. p. 421. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 61 

despaired of the subject being popular. The dissertation 
on the Passions is a series of extracts verbatim from the 
second volume of the Treatise. The Natural History of 
Religion is no doubt the Dissertation, * where there is a 
good deal of literature, which Allan Ramsay mentioned to 
you.' The periphrasis under which Hume alludes to it, 
was probably due to his presentiment that its arguments 
would be offensive to many readers. 

Dr. Warburton saw a copy of the book, before it was pub- 
lished, and wrote to Millar, asking for its suppression. 1 

'February 7, 1757- 

' Sir, I supposed you would be glad to know what sort of 
book it is which you are about to publish with Hume's name 
and yours to it. The design of the first essay is the very 
same with all Lord Bolingbroke's, to establish naturalism, a 
species of atheism, instead of religion ; and he employs one 
of Bolingbroke's capital arguments for it. All the difference 
is, it is without Bolingbroke's abusive language. 

* All the good his mutilation and fitting it up for the public 
has done, is only to add to its other follies that of contra- 
diction. He is establishing atheism ; and in one single 
line of a long essay professes to believe Christianity. All 
this I shall show in a very few words on a proper occasion. 

'In the mean time, if you think you have not money 
enough, and can satisfy your conscience, you will do well to 
publish it ; for there is no doubt of the sale among a people 
so feverish, that to-day they burn with superstition, and to- 
morrow freeze with atheism. But the day of the publication 
and the fast day will be an admirable contrast to one another. 

* I dare say you knew nothing of the contents ; but the 
caution of poor Mr. K. was admirable on a like occasion 
with this very man, Hume. He wrote to Mr. K. to offer 
him a copy, that had nothing to do with religion, as he said. 
Mr. K. replied, that might be ; but as he had given great 
offence, and he (Mr. K.) was himself no judge of these mat- 
ters, he desired to be excused. 

* You have often told me of this man's moral virtues. He 
may have many, for aught I know ; but let me observe to 
you, there are vices of the mind as well as of the body ; and I 
think a wickeder mind, and more obstinately bent on public 
mischief, I never knew. W. W.' 

Of this book Hume says in his Autobiography : 

1 Wartmrton's Unpublished Papers, p. 309. 



62 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

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 scurrility, which distinguish the Warbur- 
tonian school. This pamphlet gave me some consolation for 
the otherwise indifferent reception of my performance.' 

The pamphlet in question, which was anonymous and 
dedicated to Warburton, was the joint product of Warburton 
and Hurd. The latter tells the narrative of their pious 
fraud with great simplicity : 

* This book came out early in 1757, and falling into the 
hands of Dr. Warburton, provoked him, by its uncommon 
licentiousness, to enter on the margin, as he went along, 
such remarks as occurred to him ; and when that was too 
narrow to contain them all, he put down the rest on loose 
scraps of paper, which he stuck between the leaves. In this 
state the book was shown to me (as I chanced at that time to 
be in London with the author) merely as matter of curiosity, 
and to give me an idea of the contents, how mischievous and 
extravagant they were. He had then written remarks on 
about two-thirds of the volume : And I liked them so well, 
that I advised him, b}' all means, to carry them on through the 
remaining parts of it, and then to fit them up, in what way 
he thought best, for public use, which I told him they very 
well deserved. He put by this proposal slightly ; but, when 
I pressed him again on this head, some time after, in a 
letter from Cambridge, he wrote me the following answer : 
" As to Hume, I had laid it aside ever since you were here. 
I will now, however, finish my skeleton. It will be hardly 
that. If then you think anything can be made of it, and 
will give yourself the trouble, we may perhaps between us 
do a little good, which I dare say, we shall both think will 
be worth a little pains. If I have any force in the first rude 
beating out the mass, you are best able to give it the ele- 
gance of form and splendour of polish. This will answer 
my purpose, to labour together in a joint work to do a little 
good. I will tell you fairly, it is no more the thing it should 
be, than the Dantzick iron at the forge is the gilt and painted 
ware at Birmingham. It will make no more than a pam- 
phlet ; but you shall take your own time, and make it your 
summer's amusement, if you will. I propose .it bear some- 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 03 

thing like this title ' Remarks on Mr. Hume's late Essay, 
called, The Natural History of Religion, by a, Gentleman 
of Cambridge, in a Letter to the Rev. Dr. Warburton.' I 
propose the address should be with the dryness and reserve 
of a stranger, who likes the method of the Letters on Boling- 
broke's philosophy, and follows it here, against the same 
sort of writer, inculcating the same impiety, Naturalism, 
and employing the same kind of arguments. The address 
will remove it from me; the author, a Gentleman of 
Cambridge, from you ; and the secrecy of printing, from us 
both." I saw by this letter, he was not disposed to take 
much trouble about the thing. Accordingly his papers were 
soon after sent down to me at Cambridge, pretty much 
in the state I had seen them in at London, so far as they 
then went, only with additional entries in the latter part of 
the book. However, in this careless detached form, I 
thought his observations too good to be lost. And the hint 
of the Address suggested the means of preserving them, 
without any injury to his reputation, and indeed without 
much labour to myself. Having, therefore, transcribed the 
Remarks, with little alteration, I only wrote a short intro- 
duction and conclusion, merely to colour the proposed 
fiction, and in this form, sent them to the press. When 
Dr. Warburton saw the pamphlet, he said, I should have 
done much more, and worked up his hasty remarks in my 
own way. He doubted, also, whether the contrivance, as I 
had managed it, would not be seen through. But in this 
he was mistaken ; for the disguise, as thin as it was, an- 
swered its purpose in keeping the real author out of sight. 
Mr. Hume in particular (understanding, I suppose, from his 
bookseller, who was also mine, that the manuscript came 
from me) was the first to fall into the trap. He was much 
hurt, and no wonder, by so lively an attack upon him, and 
could not help confessing it in what he calls his own Life ; 
in which he has thought fit to honour me with greater 
marks of his resentment, than any other of the writers 
against him : nay the spiteful man goes so far as to upbraid 
me with being a follower (indeed, a closer, in this instance, 
than he apprehended) of the Warburtonian school. This idle 
story would not have been worth the telling, but for the 
reason already given, That I could not, in justice to the 
author, take the merit of so fine a work to myself. And yet 



64 HISTORY OF TIIE EDITIONS. 

in disclaiming it, the reader sees, I make but an awkward 
figure, as being obliged to open the secret of our little 
stratagem, in which the grace of it mainly consists.' ' 

The c thin disguise ' was more than suspected by Hume, 
who wrote to Millar, September 3, 1757. 

' Apropos to anger ; I am positively assured, that Dr. 
Warburton wrote that letter to himself, which you sent me ; 
and indeed the style discovers him sufficiently. I should answer 
him ; but he attacks so small a corner of my building, that 
I can abandon it without drawing great consequences after it. 
If he would come into the field and dispute concerning the 
principal topics of my philosophy, I should probably accept 
the challenge : at present nothing could tempt me to take 
the pen in hand but anger, of which I feel myself incapable, 
even upon this provocation 

* I should not be displeased that you read to Dr. War- 
burton, the paragraph in the first page of my letter, with 
regard to himself. The hopes of getting an answer, might 
probably engage him to give us something farther of the 
same kind ; which, at least, saves you the expense of adver- 
tising. I see the doctor likes a literary squabble.' 2 

At the time when the Dissertations were printing, Hume 
was in ecstasies over the merit of * Douglas,' and wrote a 
Dedication to Home. But before the volume appeared, he 
withdrew it for fear of injuring Home's prospects in the 
Kirk. Shortly afterwards Home resigned his living, and 
Hume directed that the Dedication should be restored. It 
is found in some copies, and not in others. Hume's corre- 
spondence contains the following passages on the subject : 

To Adam Smith, 
1 The dedication to John Home, you have probably seen ; 
for I find it has been inserted in some of the weekly papers, 
both here and in London. Some of my friends thought it 
was indiscreet in me to make myself responsible to the public, 
for the productions of another. But the author had lain 
under such singular and unaccountable obstructions in his 
road to fame, that I thought it incumbent on his well-wishers 
to go as much out of the common road to assist him. I 
believe the composition of the dedication will be esteemed 
very prudent, and not inelegant.' 3 

I Kurd's L\fe of Warburton. 2 Life, vol. ii. p. 35. * J bid. p. 17. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 66 



To Andrew Millar. 
' The dedication of my Dissertations to Mr. Hume was 
shown to some of his friends here, men of very good sense, 
who were seized with an apprehension that it would hurt that 
party in the church, with which he had always been con- 
nected, and would involve him, and them of consequence, in 
the suspicion of infidelity. Neither he nor I were in the 
least affected with their panic ; but to satisfy them, we agreed 
to stand by the arbitration of one person, of great rank and 
of known prudence ; and I promised them to write to you to 
suspend the publication for one post, in case you should have 
resolved to publish it presently. Next post you shall be sure 
to hear from me ; and if we be obliged to suppress it, you'll 
be pleased to place the charges of print and paper to my 
account.' l 

To William Mure. 

6 Pray, whether do you pity or blame me most, with regard 
to this dedication of my Dissertations to my friend, the poet? 
I am sure I never executed any thing which was either more 
elegant in the composition, or more generous in the intention ; 
yet such an alarm seized some fools here, (meu of very good 
sense, but fools in that particular,) that they assailed both 
him and me with the utmost violence ; and engaged us to 
change our intention. I wrote to Millar to suppress that 
dedication ; two posts after, I retracted that order. Can 
any thing be more unlucky than that, in the interval of these 
four days, he should have opened his sale, and disposed of 
eight hundred copies, without that dedication, whence, I 
imagined, my friend would reap some advantage, and myself 
so much honour ? I have not been so heartily vexed at any 
accident of a long time. However, I have insisted that the 
dedication shall still be published.' 2 

The Preface, which was not reprinted, runs thus : 

To the Reverend Mr. Hume, Author of ' Douglas,' a Tragedy. 
' My dear Sir, It was the practice of the antients to ad- 
dress their compositions only to friends and equals, and to 
render their dedications monuments of regard and affection, 

1 Life, vol. ii. p. 18. 2 Ibid. p. 21. 

VOL. III. F 



66 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

not of servility and flattery. In those days of ingenuous and 
candid liberty, a dedication did honour to the person to 
whom it was addressed, without degrading the author. If 
any partiality appeared towards the patron, it was at least 
the partiality of friendship and affection. 

I Another instance of true liberty, of which antient time3 
can alone afford us an example, is the liberty of thought, 
which engaged men of letters, however different in their 
abstract opinions, to maintain a mutual friendship and re- 
gard; and never to quarrel about principles, while they 
agreed in inclinations and manners. Science was often the 
subject of disputation, never of animosity. Qicero, an aca- 
demic, addressed his philosophical treatises, sometimes to 
Brutus, a stoic ; sometimes to Atticus, an epicurean. 

I I have been seized with a strong desire of renewing these 
laudable practices of antiquity, by addressing the following 
dissertations to you, my good friend : For such I will ever 
call and esteem you, notwithstanding the opposition, which 
prevails between us, with regard to many of our speculative 
tenets. These differences of opinion I have only found to 
enliven our conversation ; while our common passion for 
science and letters served as a cement to our friendship. I 
still admired your genius, even when I imagined, that you 
lay under the influence of prejudice ; and you sometimes 
told me, that you excused my errors, on account of the 
candor and sincerity, which, you thought, accompanied them. 

* But to tell truth, it is less my admiration of your fine 
genius, which has engaged me to make this address to you, 
than my esteem of your character and my affection to your 
person. That generosity of mind which ever accompanies 
you ; that cordiality of friendship, that spirited honour and 
integrity, have long interested me strongly in your behalf, 
and have made me desirous, that a monument of our mutual 
amity should be publicly erected, and, if possible, be preserved 
to posterity. 

* I own too, that I have the ambition to be the first who 
shall in public express his admiration of your noble tragedy of 
Douglas ; one of the most interesting and pathetic pieces, 
that was ever exhibited on any theatre. Should I give it 
the preference to the Merope of Maffei, and to that of Vol- 
taire, which it resembles in its subject ; should I affirm, that it 
contained more fire and spirit than the former, more tender- 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 67 

ness and simplicity than the latter ; I might be accused of 
partiality : And how could I entirely acquit myself, after the 
professions of friendship, which I have made you ? But the 
unfeigned tears which flowed from every eye, in the numerous 
representations which were made of it on this theatre ; the 
unparalleled command, which you appeared to have over 
every affection of the human breast : These are incontestible 
proofs, that you possess the true theatric genius of Shahespear 
and Otway, refined from the unhappy barbarism of the one, 
and licentiousness of the other. 

My enemies, you know, and, I own, even sometimes my 
friends, have reproached me with the love of paradoxes and 
singular opinions ; and I expect to be exposed to the same 
imputation, on account of the character which I have here 
given of your Douglas. I shall be told, no doubt, that I had 
artfully chosen the only time, when this high esteem of that 
piece could be regarded as a paradox, to wit, before its publi- 
cation; and that not being able to contradict in this particular 
the sentiments of the public, I have, at least, resolved to go 
before them. But I shall be amply compensated for all these 
pleasantries, if you accept this testimony of my regard, and 
believe me to be, with the greatest sincerity, 
' Dear Sir, 

' Your most affectionate Friend, 

and humble Servant, 

'David Hume. 

Edinburgh : 3 January, 1757.' 



The history of this volume is not yet concluded. It is 
now proved that Hume originally intended to include in it 
Essays on Suicide and on the Immortality of the Soul, and 
that they were already in print, when he yielded to his dis- 
like to stirring a nest of hornets, and sent orders for them to 
be expunged. 

He was extremely anxious that no copy containing these 
Essays should remain in existence : what then was his 
annoyance on finding that Wilkes was possessed of one ? He 
writes to Millar, April 23, 1764 : 

' I never see Mr. Wilkes here but at chapel, where he is 
a most regular, and devout, and edifying, and pious attendant ; 
I take him to be entirely regenerate. He told me last Sunday, 



68 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

that you had given him a copy of my Dissertations, with the 
two which I had suppressed ; and that he, foreseeing danger, 
from the sale of his library, had wrote to you to find out that 
copy, and to tear out the two obnoxious dissertations. Pray 
how stands that fact ? It was imprudent in you to intrust 
him with that copy : it was very prudent in him to use that 
precaution. Yet I do not naturally suspect you of impru- 
dence, nor him of prudence. I must hear a little farther 
before I pronounce.' 1 

Millar replied : 

4 1 take Mr. Wilkes to be the same man he was, acting 
a part. He has forgot the story of the two dissertations. 
The fact is, upon importunity, I lent to him the only copy I 
preserved, and for years never could recollect he had it, till 
his books came to be sold ; upon this I went immediately to 
the gentleman that directed the sale, told him the fact, and 
reclaimed the two dissertations which were my property. 
Mr. Coates, who was the person, immediately delivered me 
the volume ; and so soon as I got home, I tore them out and 
burnt them, that T might not lend them to any for the future. 
Two days after, Mr. Coates sent me a note for the volume, as 
Mr. Wilkes had desired it should be sent to him at Paris ; I 
returned the volume, but told him the two dissertations, I had 
torn out of the volume and burnt, being my property. This 
is the truth of the matter, and nothing but the truth. It 
was certainly imprudent for me to lend them to him.' 2 

It was no secret, however, that some Essays had been sup- 
pressed. The volume itself preserves the traces of mutilation, 
and Dr. Warburton, in his letter to Millar, alluded to it. So 
too Dr. Home, in his letter to Adam Smith, dated 1777, 
enquired, * when the great work of benevolence and charity, 
of wisdom and virtue, shall be crowned by the publication of 
a treatise designed to prove the Soul's Mortality, and 
another to justify and recommend Self-Murder ; for 
which, without doubt, the present and every future age 
will bless the name of the gentle and amiable author.' From 
the * Gentleman's Magazine' for July 1777, it appears that 
rumour had magnified the number and the wickedness of 
the Essays : the reviewer speaks of * the tracts in defence of 
suicide, adultery, &c, whose publication, if we are rightly 
informed, authority has hitherto prevented.' A correspondent 

1 Life, vol. ii. p. 202. 2 Ibid. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. G9 

in the same number (p. 326) instances suicide and adultery 
as two virtues that are praiseworthy according to Hume's 
system : and he proceeds to say : ' If report says true, and 
sometimes it does, the Essay on Suicide has been published, 
and was suppressed by public authority. A great legacy was 
left to an eminent bookseller to publish it again, and, on his 
refusal, was offered to others ; and when the more generous 
of the trade in Britain refused to give birth to such a na- 
tional evil, it was dispatched into Holland, to return hither, 
again, and scatter its pestilential influence over the fellow- 
subjects and fellow- citizens of the good, the humane, the 
social Mr. Hume.' The story of the legacy is evidently due 
to a confusion of the * tracts ' with the Dialogues concerning 
Natural Religion, for the publication of which Hume had 
provided in his will, but which had not yet appeared. The 
statement that the ' tracts' had once been published, and 
were suppressed by public authority, is no doubt an error, 
although it is repeated with great circumstantiality in the 
* Gentleman's Magazine ' for August 1784: p. 607. 'These 
Essays, it is well known, were printed and advertised by 
Mr. Millar, with some others by Mr. Hume, near thirty years 
ago ; but before the day of publication, being intimidated by 
threats of a prosecution, the bookseller called in some copies 
that he had dispersed, cancelled the two Essays, and (with 
difficulty) prevailed on Mr. Hume to substitute some others 
less obnoxious.' This story does not appear to be consistent 
with Hume's mention of the suppression in his letter to Millar; 
and nothing in * the Life of Hume ' renders it probable. 

In 1784 a book was published with the following title- 
page : * Essays on Suicide and the Immortality of the Soul, 
ascribed to the late David Hume, Esq. Never before 
published. With Remarks, intended as an Antidote to the 
Poison contained in these Performances, by the Editor ; To 
which is added, Two letters on Suicide, from Rosseau's 
Eloisa. London : Printed for M. Smith ; and sold by the 
Booksellers in Piccadilly, Fleet Street, and Paternoster Row. 
1783. Price 3s. 6d. sewed.' 

The Editor's Preface runs as follows : 

* These two Essays on Suicide and the Immortality of the 
Soul, though not published in any edition of his works, are 
generally attributed to the late ingenious Mr. Hume. 

1 The well-known contempt of this eminent philosopher for 



70 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

the common convictions of mankind, raised an apprehension 
of the contents from the very title of these pieces. But the 
celebrity of the author's name, renders them, notwithstand- 
ing, in some degree objects of great curiosity. 

' Owing to this circumstance, a few copies have been clan- 
destinely circulated, at a large price, for some time, but 
without any comment. The very mystery attending this 
mode of selling them, made them more an object of request 
than they would otherwise have been. 

* The present publication comes abroad under no such re- 
straint, and possesses very superior advantages. The Notes 
annexed are intended to expose the sophistry contained in 
the original Essays, and may show how little we have to fear 
from the adversaries of these great truths, from the pitiful 
figure which even Mr. Hume makes in thus violently ex- 
hausting his last strength in an abortive attempt to traduce 
or discredit them. 

1 The two very masterly Letters from the Eloisa of Eos- 
seau on the subject of Suicide, have been much celebrated, 
and we hope will be considered as materially increasing the 
value of this curious collection. 

* The admirers of Mr. Hume will be pleased with seeing the 
remains of a favourite author rescued in this manner from 
that oblivion, to which the prejudices of his countrymen had, 
in all appearance, consigned them ; and even the religious 
part of mankind have some reason of triumph, from the 
striking instance here given of truth's superiority to error, 
even when error has all the advantage of an elegant genius, 
and a great literary reputation to recommend it.' 

The third paragraph probably alludes to copies of the origi- 
nal proof-sheets ; but the statement of the title-page, that 
the Essays had not previously been printed, is untrue. They 
had been published in 1777, without the printer's name. A 
copy in the British Museum has for title-page : ' Two 
Essays. London. M.DCC.LXVII. Price Five Shillings.' 
There is no preface, note, or comment. The Essays are 
word for word the same with those of 1 784. It is possible 
that this is the Edition, printed in Holland, to which the 
writer in the * Gentleman's Magazine ' referred : but, if so, he 
had not seen the book, for he only knows the subject of one 
of the Essays. 

These ' tracts,' as they appear in these two editions, had 




HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 71 

generally been accepted as genuine, partly on the evidence 
of style, and partly because of the silence of Hume's friends, 
who were challenged to disavow them. But no direct evi- 
dence was known to exist, until the Advocates' Library 
became possessed of a bound copy of proof-sheets of the origi- 
nal volume ; corrected, it appears, by Hume, and containing one 
of the Essays in question. The book has the following note : 
' This book contains a piece of Mr. D. Hume's, of which 
there is, I believe, but another copy existing. Having printed 
the volume as it here stands, Mr. Hume was advised by a 
friend, to suppress the Dissertation upon Suicide ; which 
he accordingly did. A copy, however, had somehow got into 
the hands of Mr. Muirhead, a man of letters, who had made 
a very valuable collection of books. Mr. Hume, after the 
death of Mr. Muirhead, employed me to beg that copy from 
his nephew, who very politely delivered it up. Upon this 
Mr. Hume gave me leave to keep the present copy, which he 
had lent me : I promising not to show it to any bodv. 

< A. R.' 

These are believed to be the initials of Allan Ramsay. 
There is no title-page ; but at the beginning there is written, 
perhaps in Hume's handwriting: 'Five Dissertations, to 
wit, The Natural History of Eeligion. Of the Passions. Of 
Tragedy. Of Suicide. Of the Immortality of the Soul.' 
In this copy the Essay on Suicide has been cut out; but 
the companion Essay remains in its entirety. Allan Ram- 
say's note informs us, that it was the former of these which 
Hume's friend called in question : and his phrase confirms 
the belief that the writers in the ' Gentleman's Magazine ' 
blundered in stating that the book was published and sup- 
pressed by public authority; but he leaves it doubtful 
whether the copy, when Hume gave it him, contained both 
Essays, or not ; and when and by whom the Dissertation on 
Suicide was cut out. However this may be, as the Essay 
on the Immortality of the Soul in this copy is identical 
with that which was published under the same title, first in 
1777, and then again in 1783, there can be no reasonable 
doubt that the Essay on Suicide, which was printed with 
it on both occasions, is also genuine. 

As has been said, the ' Four Dissertations ' is a volume, 
which shows signs of mutilation : and, in brief, its history 



72 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

seems to have been this, (i.) The Dissertations on Geometry, 
on the Natural History of Religion, on Tragedy, and 
on the Passions were in manuscript in 1755. (ii.) The 
first of these never went to the press, (iii.) Between 1 755 and 
1757 Hume wrote the two Essays on Suicide and on the 
Immortality of the SouL (iv.) The five remaining Disser- 
tations were then printed in the above order, the first three 
occupying 200 pages, and ending with the fourth sheet 
of signature K. The Essay on Suicide began on K 5; 
and was followed by the Essay on the Immortality of the 
Soul, (v.) First, the Essay on Suicide was cut out ; 
leaving the next Essay to begin in Allan Ramsay's copy at 
L 4. Afterwards, this was also destroyed, and, to make a 
volume of decent size, a new Dissertation, On the Standard 
of Taste, was written, and printed on a new signature, L ; 
so that K 4 to 6 appear as mutilated strips of leaves. The 
ten missing sheets in Ramsay's copy would exactly accom- 
modate the Essay on Suicide. 

In 1758 the Four Dissertations were combined with the 
rest of Hume's literary works, and published in a quarto 
edition of one volume, with the title-page, * Essays and 
Treatises on several Subjects, by David Hume, Esq. ; a new 
edition : ' and with the following Advertisement : 'Some 
Alterations are made on the Titles of the Treatises, contained 
in the following Volume. What in former Editions was 
called Essays Moral and Political, is here entitled Essays, 
Moral, Political and Literary, Part I. The Political Dis- 
courses form the second Part. What in former Editions 
was called, Philosophical Essays concerning Human Under- 
standing is here entitled An Enquiry concerning Human 
Understanding. The Four Dissertations lately published 
are dispersed thro' different Parts of this Volume.' None of 
the contents of the previous editions were omitted, with the 
exception of the Dedication to John Home ; but after the 
book had been printed and paged, two new Essays were 
bound up with it, arriving too late to be inserted in the list 
of contents. These are the papers on the Jealousy of 
Trade and on the Coalition of Parties. This was the 
first edition that added an Index, ' which cost him more 
trouble than he was aware of when he began it.' 1 

From this time the editions assume a settled shape, and 

1 Life, vol. ii. p. 36. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 73 

may be enumerated briefly. In 1760 they were published in 
four volumes, duodecimo : in 1764, in two volumes, octavo ; 
when the three Essays on Impudence and Modesty, on 
Love and Marriage, and on the Study of History, whose 
fate had long been trembling on the balance, were omitted ; 
and Section VI. Part I. of the Enquiry concerning the 
Principles of Morals was degraded to the Appendix, where 
it appeared with the heading, Of some Verbal Disputes. 
In 1768, there was a quarto edition of two volumes, with a 
portrait of the Author by Donaldson. In 1770, the edition 
consisted of four volumes, octavo ; the Essay on Avarice was 
omitted ; and the whole of the contents had been carefully 
revised, so that this ranks with the edition of 1754 as con- 
taining more important changes than any of the interme- 
diate ones. Finally, in 1777 appeared the posthumous and 
authoritative edition, in which there were few changes of 
expression : on the other hand, a new Essay, on the Origin 
of Government, and the famous Advertisement, which has 
been quoted at page 37, were added : and what had hitherto 
been Section II. Part I. of the Enquiry concerning the Prin- 
ciples of Morals was transferred to the Appendix with the 
title, Of Self Love. 

It has already been observed that Hume bestowed extra- 
ordinary pains upon preparing the various editions of his 
Essays for the press, and a few of the changes have been 
noted. It may be interesting to review briefly the variations 
of sentiment which come to the surface. In politics, for 
instance, as he grew older, he became a confirmed opponent 
of the Whigs, and the successive editions of his History were 
marked by an effort to be rid of ' the plaguy prejudices of 
Whiggism,' 1 which shows itself particularly in the narrative 
of the seventeenth century. The Essays were from time to 
time modified in the same direction. In Editions A to P the 
second Essay, ' Of the Liberty of the Press,' contained a long 
discussion of the question, < Whether the unlimited exercise 
of this liberty be advantageous or prejudicial to the public;' 
and decided strongly in the former sense: Edition Q, in 
1770, dropt the discussion. This, however, is the strongest 
instance : most of the other omissions or corrections, so far 
as concerned English politics, were due to the fact, that the 
public had ceased to discuss such points as Instructions, and 

1 Life, vol. ii. p. 144. 



74 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

that impartial observation on the history and conduct of the 
Court and Country Parties was obsolete. 

The study of English History appears to have occasioned 
but few alterations in statements of fact : the clearest being 
on the first page of * The Balance of Trade/ ! where Editions 
N and vary with the progress of his 'History.' The 
course of contemporary politics relieved him of the fear that 
Europe would be swallowed up by enormous monarchies;* 
and in 1770 he omitted passages which boasted of England 
as the bulwark against French aggression. 3 As regards the 
Roman Catholic religion, and indeed religion generallj-, he 
softened or withdrew offensive expressions, though the gene- 
ral tenor of his sentiments remained unchanged, and in 1770 
he added a paragraph on the doctrine of the Intention of 
the Priest, characterizing it as positive, arrogant, and dog- 
matical. 4 There is a marked change in his opinion of Lord 
Bolingbroke, who, up to 1 748, was instanced as ' a culti- 
vated genius for oratory : ' the citation was changed in the 
next edition, when also praise of his oratory was modified in 
another passage. 5 At the same time he omitted an invective 
against Dr. Swift, as an author, ' who has more humour than 
knowledge, more taste than judgment, and more spleen, 
prejudice, and passion than any of these qualities:' however 
to the last he was called the first Englishman to write polite 
prose. 6 Rapin had a sudden downfall in his good graces. 
In the edition of 1752 he is styled 'the most judicious of 
historians;' Edition K in 1754 the year in which the first 
volume of the History of the Stuarts was published censures 
his ' usual malignity and partiality.' 7 

The general development of style may easily be seen, by 
comparing either the Treatise or the Essays which only ap- 
peared in Edition A with the language of the text, as he 
finally left it. A few words and phrases deserve special 
notice. For some years he invariably wrote Britain, not 
Great Britain. ' Something of the Misanthrope ' 8 was struck 
out in 1770. From 1742 to 1748 he wrote, ' to the (Estrum 
or Verve of the poets:' 9 from 1754 to 1768 it is their 
' (Estrum or native enthusiasm:' in 1770 the barbarous 

* Vol. iii. p. 331. Vol. iii. pp. 170, 173. 
2 Vol. iii. p. 365. Vol. iii. pp. 332, 159. 

* Vol. iii. pp. 353, 476. 7 Vol. iii. p. 473. 

* In a note to the Enquiry Concerning "Vol. iii. p. 151. 
the Principles of Morals, sec. iii. " Vol. iii. p. 197. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 75 

word disappeared. In 1748 he replaced ' Gaiete de Coeur' 
by gaiety of heart.' 1 Up to 1754 he apologized for speak- 
ing of the absurd naivety of Sancho Panza, ' a word which I 
have borrow'd from the French, and which is wanted in our 
language:' 2 in 1758 the apology was thought unnecessary. 
Lastly, we may notice that in 1770 he dropt the obsolete 
phrase, ' the stated clubs at the inns.' 3 

On reviewing the history of Hume's literary and philoso- 
phical works, we are at once struck by the suddenness with 
which his labours in philosophy came to an end. The Trea- 
tise on Human Nature was written when he was five-and- 
twenty : that is, in the beginning of 1 736 ; it was published 
in 1739-40, and after that date he wrote little that was new. 
The Essay on Miracles was already drafted in manuscript. 
The Enquiries are for the most part popular reproductions. 
Even a large portion of the Essays appears to have been 
written before 1739. The only additions which philosophy 
received from Hume, are to be found in the Natural History 
of Religion and the Dialogues concerning Natural Religion : 
the latter were written before 1751, and the former ' he had 
kept some years by him ' in 1755. To be brief: Hume's con- 
tributions to metaphysics were written by 1736, when he was 
five-and-twenty : his contribution to the philosophy of reli- 
gion, by 1750, when he was thirty-nine : and after this date 
he added nothing. 

Various theories have been invented to account for this. 
It has been suggested that the negative character of Hume's 
speculation reacted upon their author, chilling the earnest 
spirit of enquiry which had composed the Treatise, and re- 
conciling him to lazy acquiescence. It is said that indiffer- 
ence of this sort explains the candour and impartiality with 
which Hume treated the political disputes of his day. The 
same supposition has been adduced to explain the habitual 
irony with which he wrote on religious topics. Mr. Hunt, 
following the late Professor Maurice, adopts language to a 
similar effect. 

' The title generally applied to Hume is that of Sceptic, 
and this both in philosophy and religion. He follows expe- 
rience till he finds there is something beyond experience. 
Then he either acknowledges that we must fall back upon 
natural instincts, and trust to reason, such as it is, or he 

Vol. iii. p. 230. 3 Vol. iii. p. 240. 8 Vol. iii. p. 320. 



70 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

gives way to despair, and with an easy indifference flings the 
problem aside as insoluble, bidding us be content with our 
ignorance, for all is an enigma, a riddle, and a mystery. 
These two states of mind are clearly distinguishable in Hume. 
They are both called Scepticism, yet they are so different 
that the one leads to inquiry, the other to indolence. The 
one was a quality of his own keen intellect, the other was 
learned in France.' ' Had this evil scepticism been attributed 
to the effect of French literature, the charge would have been 
more difficult to prove or disprove : worded as it is, it throws 
a burden of proof upon Mr. Hunt. He has already promised 
that he will not refer to the Treatise ; his allusion, therefore, 
is to the Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, 
which was published eleven years after Hume's return from 
France. Neither the Treatise nor the Essays which followed 
are characterised by indolent scepticism ; the malady, there- 
fore, was latent for these eleven years. 

A more commonplace explanation may be suggested. 
Hume had brought his criticism of the philosophy of experi- 
ence to a point, where, as he saw clearly, negation had done 
its work, and either he must leave the subject, or else attempt 
a reconstruction. For the latter Hume certainly lacked the 
disposition, and probably the ability : few philosophers have 
been at once critical and constructive. He turned to the 
philosophy of religion, a subject which throughout his life 
exercised a strong fascination upon him; but his friends 
would not suffer him to publish his maturest questionings. 
Meanwhile an early taste for politics and history was grow- 
ing upon him. His discussion of political questions gained 
the praise of Bishop Butler: the Political Discourses ran 
into a second edition within the year. Yet he retained a 
firm belief in the value of his metaphysical speculations : he 
was willing to explain points here and there in letters to 
personal friends, and he was determined that at least some 
portion of his discoveries should win the ear of the public. 
It must also be borne in mind that he was by no means 
rich ; that from early life he had looked to his pen to win a 
competency : and that on various occasions he showed a 
Scotch tenacity in the pursuit of money. On reviewing the 
Treatise, he must have seen that the general result gave him 
a vantage-ground from which he could ply the weapons of 

1 Contemporary Review, May, 1 869 ; p. 80. 



HISTOEY OF THE EDITIONS. 77 

scepticism and irony in a novel and popular fashion; but 
that if he maintained the earnest spirit of his youth, he must 
be content to remain unread. He selected for ' recasting ' 
precisely those portions which lent themselves to this manner, 
and which were likely to excite public attention. To this 
day, although his fame is established, few students of philo- 
sophy turn to the Treatise. 

The candour of the political Essays is also capable of 
explanation from his life and character. Naturally of a 
sensitive, irritable disposition, the ideal which he set before 
himself, was all that was dignified and judicial. 

The following narrative of the circumstances attending the 
posthumous publication of the Dialogues concerning Natural 
Religion is borrowed from Mr. Burton : 

* He appointed Smith his literary executor, in the fol- 
lowing terms : " To my friend Dr. Adam Smith, late Pro- 
fessor of Moral Philosophy in Glasgow, I leave all my 
manuscripts without exception, desiring him to publish my 
1 Dialogues on Natural Religion,' which are comprehended in 
this present bequest ; but to publish no other papers which 
he suspects not to have been written within these five years, 
but to destroy them all at his leisure. And I even leave him 
full power over all my papers, except the Dialogues above 
mentioned; and though I can trust to that intimate and 
sincere friendship, which has ever subsisted between us, for 
his faithful execution of this part of my will, yet, as a small 
recompense of his pains in correcting and publishing this 
work, I leave him two hundred pounds, to be paid imme- 
diately after the publication of it." l . . . . 

' Previous to his journey to Bath, Hume appears to have 
informed Smith of the desire expressed in his will, that he 
should undertake the publication of the "Dialogues on 
Natural Religion." The intimation was probably verbal, as 
it does not form part of any letter among Hume's papers. 
Elliot was opposed to the publication of this work. Blair 
pleaded strongly for its suppression; and Smith, who had 
made up his mind that he would not edit the work, seems to 
have desired that the testamentary injunction laid on him 
might be revoked. Hume, however, before his death, took 
effectual steps to guard against its' suppression. 

* Thus, after having good-naturedly abstained, for nearly 

1 Life, vol. ii. p. 489. 



78 HISTORY OF TIIE EDITIONS. 

thirty years, from the publication of a work, which might 
give pain and umbrage to his dearest friends ; at the close of 
life, and when the lapse of time since it was written might 
have been supposed to render him indifferent to its fate, 
because there appeared some danger of its final suppression, 
he took decided and well-pondered steps to avert from it this 
fate. Such was the character of the man ! 

Hume to Adam Smith. 

"London, May 3, 1776. 

' " My dear Friend, I send you enclosed an ostensible 
letter, conformably to your desire. I think, however, your 
scruples groundless. Was Mallet any wise hurt by his 
publication of Lord Bolingbroke? He. received an office 
afterwards from the present king and Lord Bute, the most 
prudish men in the world ; and he always justified himself 
by his sacred regard to the will of a dead friend. At the 
same time, I own that your scruples have a specious appear- 
ance. But my opinion is, that if upon my death you deter- 
mine never to publish these papers, you should leave them 
sealed up with my brother and family, with some inscription 
that you reserve to yourself the power of reclaiming them 
whenever you think proper. If I live a few years longer, I 
shall publish them myself. I consider an observation of 
Eochefoucault, that a wind, though it extinguishes a candle, 
blows up a fire " l 

'The "ostensible lettter" which was to serve as Smith's 
justification, if he should decline to follow the injunctions of 
the will, is as follows : 

'"London, May 3, 1776. 

' " My dear Sir, After reflecting more maturely on that 
article of my will by which I left you the disposal of all 
my papers, with a request that you should publish my 
' Dialogues concerning Natural Beligion,' I have become 
sensible that, both on account of the nature of the work, 
and of your situation, it may be improper to hurry on that 
publication. I therefore take the present opportunity of 
qualifying that friendly request. I am content to leave it 
entirely to your discretion, at what time you will publish 
that piece, or whether you will publish it at all. 

' " You will find among my papers a very inoffensive piece, 

1 Life, vol. ii. p. 401. 




HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 70 

called ' my own Life,' which I composed a few days before I 
left Edinburgh ; when I thought, as did all my friends, that 
my life was despaired of. There can be no objection, that 
the small piece should be sent to Messrs. Strahan and Cadell, 
and the proprietors of my other works, to be prefixed to any 
future edition of them." 

e Smith did not absolutely refuse to edit the " Dialogues," 
but Hume saw pretty clearly that it was a task that would 
not be performed by him. That he was correct in this sup- 
position, appears by a letter from Smith to Strahan after 
Hume's death, where he says : 

* " I once had persuaded him to leave it entirely to my dis- 
cretion either to publish them at what time I thought proper, 
or not to publish them at all. Had he continued of this 
mind, the manuscript should have been most carefully pre- 
served, and upon my decease restored to his family ; but it 
never should have been published in my lifetime. When you 
have read it, you will perhaps think it not unreasonable to 
consult some prudent friend about what you ought to do." 

* By a codicil to his will, dated 7th August, he thus altered 
the arrangement referred to in these letters. "In my 
later will and disposition, I made some destinations with 
regard to my manuscripts : All these I now retract, and leave 
my manuscripts to the care of Mr. William Strahan of 
London, member of Parliament, trusting to the friendship 
that has long subsisted between us, for his careful and faithful 
execution of my intentions. I desire that my 'Dialogues 
concerning Natural Eeligion' may be printed and published, 
any time within two years after my death." . . . 

* There is then a new paragraph appended as follows : 

* " I do ordain that if my ' Dialogues,' from whatever cause, 
be not published within two years and a half after my death, 
as also the account of my life, the property shall return to 
my nephew, David, whose duty in publishing them, as the 
last request of his uncle, must be approved of by all the 
world." 

* Both Hume and Smith seem to have thought that Strahan 
would undertake the publication as a mere matter of business. 
But this book, like the little hunchback in the "Arabian 
Nights," was a commodity which every one seemed anxious 
to transfer to his neighbour. Strahan declined to undertake 



80 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

the task, and the "Dialogues" did not appear until 1779, 
when they were published by their author's nephew.' l 

The title-page consists simply of the words ' Dialogues 
concerning Natural Eeligion, by David Hume, Esq.,' and 
bears no publisher's name. 

The book is noticed in 'The Gentleman's Magazine,' 
October, 1779. Although, perhaps, the most finished of its 
author's productions, it has not excited general attention ; 
there seems to be a deep-seated reluctance to discuss such 
fundamental questions. 

The larger toleration, which characterises the present age, 
makes it, perhaps, difficult to understand why Adam Smith 
was so reluctant to put the book through the press for his 
friend. Unhappily, it is too certain, that, if he desired 
peace, he was prudent in declining to do so. A storm of 
obloquy burst upon him for his share in publishing Hume's 
autobiography and for the letter which accompanied it. 
The autobiography in question, dated April 18, 1776 Hume 
died August 25 appeared in 1777, as ' The Life of David 
Hume, Esq. Written by himself. Price Is. 6d. London : 
Printed for W. Strahan; and T. Cadell in the Strand.' The 
Preface runs as follows : ' Mr. Hume, a few months before 
his death, wrote the following short account of his own 
Life; and, in a codicil to his will, desired that it might 
be prefixed to the next edition of his Works. That edi- 
tion cannot be published for a considerable time. 2 The 
Editor, 3 in the mean while, in order to serve the pur- 
chasers of the former editions ; and, at the same time, to 
gratify the impatience of the public curiosity ; has thought 
proper to publish it separately, without altering even the 
title or superscription, which was written in Mr. Hume's 
own hand on the cover of the manuscript.' 

The Autobiography and Letter are printed at the beginning 
of this volume. Adam Smith was promptly taken to task. In 
the same year was written 'A Letter to Adam Smith, LL.D. 
on the Life, Death, and Philosophy of his friend David 
Hume, Esq. By One of the People called Christians. 

Ibant obscuri, sola sub noct, per umbram, 
Perque domos Ditis vacuas, et inania regna.' 

In the Advertisement the author declines to give his name, 

1 Life, vol. ii. pp. 491-495. fame year. 

* Nevertheless it appeared in the * Adam Smith. 



ccrTiinTi on 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 81 



which can have no bearing on the argument ; and, as his 
book costs only a shilling, deprecates the anger of those 
readers who will disagree with him ; while he entreats the 
friends of Religion, in so critical a time, to speak well of it. 
But for a desire to be anonymous, he would have prefixed 
his portrait, with an effort to wear as happy an expression as 
Hume himself. The letter begins : * Sir, You have been 
lately employed in embalming a philosopher ; his body, I 
believe I must say; for concerning the other part of him, 
neither you nor he seem to have entertained an idea, sleeping 
or waking. Else, it surely might have claimed a little of 
your care and attention ; and one would think, the belief of 
the soul's existence and immortality could do no harm, if it 
did no good, in a Theory of Moral Sentiments. But every gen- 
tleman understands his own business best.' After asserting 
that his own good humour and literary tastes are such as to 
make him an impartial judge, he proceeds to state his point ; 
that since the social qualities of David, however amiable, by 
no means prevented him from being guilty of the atrocious 
wickedness of diffusing atheism through the land, it was a 
scandal for Doctor Smith to pronounce him one who ap- 
proached as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous 
man, as perhaps the nature of human frailty will permit. 
The letter, which is devoid of argument, repeats this point 
from time to time with a variety of scurrilous jests and 
coarse comparisons. It places Hume in the same categorj 
with John the Painter, who may have played whist well, in 
spite of an odd fancy of firing all the dockyards in the king- 
dom. Returning to the charge, it says that only on athe- 
istical principles is it right in our last hours to read Lucian, 
to play at whist, to droll upon Charon and his boat, to die as 
foolish and insensible, as much like our brother philosophers, 
the calves of the field, and the asses of the desert, as we can, 
for the life of us. Still further to illustrate so shocking a 
death-bed, the ' drollery ' is paraphrased as follows : ' Lord, 
I have only one reason why 1 should wish to live. Suffer 
me so to do, I most humbly beseech Thee, yet a little while, 
till mine eyes shall behold the success of my undertaking to 
overthrow, by my metaphysics, the faith which thy Son 
descended from heaven to plant, and to root out the know- 
ledge and the love of thee from the earth.' 

After reprobating the inhumanity of an author who could 

vol. in. G 



82 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

impugn the comfortable doctrines of the Christian Faith, 
Bishop Home insinuates that Hume was by no means so in- 
sensible to attack as his Life pretends, asking if there was 
not an author meaning Beattie ; he has already assured Dr. 
Smith that his own name does not begin with B. whose 
name could not be mentioned to Hume, or else he would 
* fly out into a transport of passion and swearing ' ? 

Waxing hot with indignation at Smith's approval of 
Hume's manner of death, the Bishop tells him that he who 
can behold with complacency such a mischievous life, so evil a 
death, may smile over Babylon in ruins, esteem the earth- 
quake which destroyed Lisbon an agreeable occurrence, and 
congratulate the hardened Pharaoh on his overthrow in the 
Red Sea. Drollery in such circumstances is neither more 
nor less than 

Moody Madness, laughing wild, 
Amid severest woe. 

Would we know the baneful and pestilential influences of 
false philosophy on the human heart, we need only con- 
template them in this most deplorable instance of Mr. Hume. 

That this ' drolling upon Charon and his boat ' gave dire 
offence, appears also from a sermon of John Wesley's : ' 

1 Did that right honourable wretch, compared to whom 

Sir R was a saint, know the heart of man, he that so 

earnestly advised his own son, " never to speak the truth, to 
lie or dissemble as often as he speaks, to wear a mask con- 
tinually ? " that earnestly counselled him, " not to debauch 
single women," (because some inconveniences might follow), 
'* but always married women ? " Would one imagine this 
grovelling animal ever had a wife or a married daughter of 

his own ? O rare Lord C ! Did ever man so well deserve, 

though he was a Peer of the realm, to die by the side of 
Newgate ? Or did ever book so well deserve to be burned 
by the common hangman, as his Letters ? Did Mr. David 
Hume, lower, if possible, than either of the former, know the 
heart of man? No more than a worm or a beetle does. 
After " playing so idly with the darts of death," do you now 
find it a laughing matter 9 What think you now of Charon ? 
Has he ferried you over Styx ? At length he has taught yOu 
to know a little of your own heart ! At length you know, it 
is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God ! ' 

1 No. 123. Preached at Halifax, April 21, 1790. On the Deceitful ness of the 
Human Heart. 



HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 83 

One or two passages may be cited from Boswell in further 
illustration of the bitter feeling with which Hume's death 
was expected. ' When we were alone, I introduced the sub- 
ject of death, and endeavoured to maintain that the fear of 
it might be got over. I told him that David Hume said to 
me, he was no more uneasy to think he should not be after 
his life, than that he had not been before he began to exist. 
Johnson : " Sir, if he really thinks so, his perceptions are 
disturbed ; he is mad : if he does not think so, he lies. He 
may tell you, he holds his finger in the flame of a candle, 
without feeling pain; would you believe him? When he 
dies, he at least gives up all he has." Boswell : " Foote, Sir, 
told me, that when he was very ill he was not afraid to die ? " 
Johnson : " It is not true, Sir. Hold a pistol to Foote's 
breast, or to Hume's breast, and threaten to kill them, and 
you'll see how they behave." ' . . . Letter from Boswell 
to Johnson : ' Without doubt you have read what is called 
" The Life of David Hume," written by himself, with the 
letter from Dr. Adam Smith subjoined to it. Is not this an 
age of daring effrontery ? My friend Mr. Anderson, Pro- 
fessor of Natural Philosophy at Glasgow, at whose house you 
and I supped, and to whose care Mr. Windham, of Norfolk, 
was intrusted at that University, paid me a visit lately ; and 
after we had talked with indignation and contempt of the 
poisonous productions with which this age is infested, he 
said there was now an excellent opportunity for Dr. Johnson 
to step forth. I agreed with him that you might knock 
Hume's and Smith's heads together, and make vain and 
ostentatious infidelity exceedingly ridiculous. Would it not 
be worth your while to crush such noxious weeds in the 
moral garden ? ' . . . 'I mentioned to Dr. Johnson, that 
David Hume's persisting in his infidelity, when he was dying, 
shocked me much. Johnson : " Why should it shock you, 
Sir ? Hume owned he had never read the New Testament 
with attention. Here then was a man who had been at no 
pains to inquire into the truth of religion, and had con- 
tinually turned his mind the other way. It was not to be 
expected that the prospect of death would alter his way of 
thinking, unless God should send an angel to set him right." 
I said, I had reason to believe that the thought of annihila- 
tion gave Hume no pain. Johnson: "It was not so, Sir. 
He had a vanity in being thought easy. It is more probable 

G 2 



84 HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS. 

that he should assume an appearance of ease, than so very 
improbable a thing should be, as a man not afraid of going 
(as, in spite of his delusive theory, he cannot be sure but he 
may go) into an unknown state, and not being uneasy at 
leaving all he knew. And you are to consider, that upon his 
own principle of annihilation he had no motive to speak the 
truth." 

According to the author of the ' Supplement to the Life of 
David Hume ' (1777), it was thought necessary that his grave 
should be watched by two men for eight nights, and the 
droppings of grease from their lanterns were long visible on 
the tomb. 

In this Edition the text of the Treatise of Human Nature 
has been followed in all its curiosities of spelling and 
punctuation. In the Essays the posthumous edition of 1777 
has been reprinted; the variations of earlier editions are 
given in the notes, which in all cases adopt the latest text. 
The Essays, which did not survive, will be found at the end 
of Vol. IV. Many thanks are due to Mr. Burton, both for 
personal kindness, and for permission to make free use of his 
' Life of Hume.' 

T. H. Grose. 

Queen's College: Feb. 2, 1874. 






85 



LIST OF EDITIONS. 



Essays Moral and Political. 

Tros Rutulusve fuat, nidlo discrimine habebo. Virg. : 
Edinburgh : Printed by R. Fleming and A. Alison, for A. 
Kincaid, Bookseller, and sold at his shop above the Cross. 
MDCCXLI. One vol. octavo. 2s. 6d. Gent. Mag., March 
1742. Brit. Mus. and Bodl. Edition A. 
The Second Edition, Corrected. MDCCXLII. Brit. Mus. Edi- 
tion B. 

Essays Moral and Political. Volume II. MDCCXLII. Brit. Mus. 
Edition C. 

Essays Moral and Political. By David Hume, Esq. The Third 
Edition, Corrected with Additions. London : Printed for A. 
Millar, over against Catharine Street, in the Strand, and A. 
Kincaid in Edinburgh. MDCCXLVIII. One vol. octavo. 
3s. Gent. Mag., Nov. 1748. Bodl. Edition D. 

Philosophical Essays concerning Human Understanding. By the 
Author of the Essays Moral and Political. London : A. Millar. 
MDCCXLVIII. One vol. octavo. 3s. Gent. Mag., April 
1748. (The only copy the Editor has seen is in Mr. Burton's 
possession.) Edition E. 

Ditto. The Second Edition, with Additions and Corrections. By 

Mr. Hume, Author of the Essays Moral and Political. London : 

Printed for M. Cooper, at the Globe in Paternoster Row. 

MDCCLI. Bodl. Edition F. 
An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals. By David Hume, 

Esq. London: A.Millar. 1751. One vol. octavo. 3s. Bodl. 

Edition G. 
Political Discourses. By David Hume, Esq. Edinburgh : Printed by 

R. Fleming, for A. Kincaid and A. Donaldson. MDCCLI I. 

One vol. octavo. Gent. Mag. Feb. 1742. Bodl. Edition H. 

Ditto. The Second Edition. Bodl. Edition I. 

Essays and Treatises on Several Subjects. By David Hume, Esq. ; in 
Four Volumes. London : A. Millar. Edinburgh : A. Kin- 
caid and A. Donaldson. MDCCLIII-IV. Octavo. Edition K 



8G LIST OF EDITIONS. 

Four Dissertations. I. The Natural History of Religion. II. Of the 
Passions. III. Of Tragedy. IV.OftheStandiird.ofTaste.By 
David Hume, Esq. London : A. Millar. MDCCLVII. One 
vol. octavo. 3s. Gent. Mag., Feb. 1757. Bodl. Edition L. 

First Proof of the Above. No Title-page: but in (?) Hume's 
handwriting Five Dissertations, to wit, The Natural History 
of Religion : Of the Passioris : Of Tragedy : Of Suicide : 
Of the Immortality of the Soul. In the Advocates' Library, 
Edinburgh. 

Essays and Treatises on Several Subjects. By David Hume, Esq. 
A New Edition. London : A. Millar. Edinburgh : A. Kincaid 
and A. Donaldson. MDCCLVIII. Brit. Mus. Edition M. 

Ditto, MDCCLX. Four vols, duodecimo. Brit. Mus. Edition N. 

Ditto, MDCCLXIV. Two vols, octavo. Brit. Mus. Edition O. 

Ditto. London : Printed for A. Millar, A. Kincaid, J. Bell, and A. 
Donaldson, in Edinburgh. And sold by T. Cadell, in the Strand. 
MDCCLXVIII. Two vols, quarto. Brit. Mus. Edition P. 

Ditto. Printed for T. Cadell, (Successor to Mr. Millar), in the 
Strand; and A. Kincaid and A. Donaldson, at Edinburgh. 
MDCCLXX. Four vols, octavo. Brit. Mus. Edition Q. 

Ditto, Printed for T. Cadell, in the Strand ; and W. Donaldson 
and W. Creech, at Edinburgh. MDCCLXXVII. 2 vols, octavo. 
Brit. Mus. and Bodl. Edition R. 

Two Essays. London. MDCCLXVII. Price Five Shillings. (On 
Suicide and the Immortality of the Soul.) 

Dialogues concerning Natural Religion. By David Hume, Esq. 
1779. 

This list exhausts the Editions : all have been collated by the 
present Editor. 



ESSAYS 



AND 

TREATISES 

o N 

SEVERAL SUBJECTS. 

In TWO VOLUMES. 

By DAVID HUME, Esq; 
VOL. I. 

CONTAINING 

ESSAYS, MORAL, POLITICAL, and LITERARY. 
A NEW EDITION. 

LONDON: 

Printed for T. Cadell, in the Strand : and 

A. Donaldson, and W. Creech, at Edinburgh. 

MDCCLXXVH. 



ESSAYS, 



MOEAL, POLITICAL, 



AND 



LITERARY. 



PART L* 



Published in 1742. [This Note was added in Ed. M, 1758], 



Vol I. 



B 



ESSAYS. 



PART I. 

Essay I. Of 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 mea- 
sure ; 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 entirely master of his own disposition. Good or ill 
fortune is very little at our disposal : And when a person, 
that has this sensibility of temper, meets with any misfortune, 
his sorrow or resentment takes entire possession of him, and 
deprives him of all relish in the common 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 temper 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 discretion, and to take 
false steps in the conduct of life, which are often irre- 
trievable. 

There is a delicacy of taste observable in some men, which 



02 ESSAY I. 

very much resembles this delicacy of passion, and produces 
the 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 perceived with more exquisite relish and 
satisfaction, than the negligences or absurdities with disgust 
and uneasiness. A polite and judicious conversation affords 
him the highest entertainment ; rudeness or impertinence is 
as great a punishment to him. (in short, delicacy of taste 
has the same effect as delicacy 01 passion : It enlarges the 
sphere both of our happiness and misery, 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, 
notwithstanding this resemblance, delicacy of taste is as 
much to be desired and cultivated as delicacy of passion is to 
be lamented, and to be remedied, if possible.] 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 diver- 
sions 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 per- 
fection is impossible to be attained : But every wise man will 
endeavour 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 appe- 
tites, and receives more enjoyment from a poem or a piece 
of reasoning than the most expensive luxury can afford. 1 

Whatever connexion there may be originally between 

these two species of delicacy, Jl am persuaded, that nothing 

I is so proper to cure us of this delicacy of passion, as the 

| cultivating of that higher and more refined taste, which 

1 [How far delicacy of taste, and that the ornaments of life, of dress, equipage, 

of passion, are connected together in and the ordinary decencies of behaviour, 

the original frame of the mind, it is Any excellency in these hits their taste 

hard to determine. To me there appears much sooner than ours ; and when you 

a very considerable connexion between please their tasto, you soon engage their 

them. For we may observe that women, affections. Editions A to Q; llio latter 

v ho have more delicate passions than omits the last sentence.] 
men, have also a more delicate taate of 



DELICACY OF TASTE. 9:1 

enables us to judge of the characters of men, of compositions 
of genius, and of the productions of the nobler artsj A 
greater or less relish for those obvious beauties, which strike 
the senses, depends entirely upon the greater or less sensibi- 
lity 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 composition 
of genius, there are so many views to be taken in, so many 
circumstances to be compared, and such a knowledge of 
human nature requisite, that no man, who is not possessed 
of the soundest judgment, will ever make a tolerable critic 
in such performances. And this is a new reason for culti- 
vating a relish, in the liberal arts. Our judgment will 
strengthen by this exercise : 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 culti- 
vated 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 rather improves our sensibility for all the tender and 
agreeable passions ; at the same time that it renders the 
mind incapable of the rougher and more boisterous emotions. 

Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes, 
Emollit mores, nee sinit esse fcros. 

For this, I think there may be assigned two very natural 
reasons. Jin the first place, nothing is so improving to the 
temper as the study of the beauties, either of poeory, elo- 
quence, music, or painting. They give a certain elegance of 
sentiment to which the rest of mankind are strangers^ The 
emotions which they excite are soft and tender. They draw 
off the miDd from the hurry of business and interest; 
cherish reflection ; dispose to tranquillity ; and produce an 
agreeable melancholy, which, of all dispositions of the mind, 
is the best suited to love and friendship. 

(En the second place, a delicacy of taste is favourable to I 
love and friendship, by confining our choice to few people, 
and making us indifferent to the company and conversation 



01 ESSAY I. 

ofthe greater part of meiu] You will seldom find, that mere 
men of the world, whatever strong sense they may be en- 
dowed with, are very nice in distinguishing characters, or in 
marking those insensible differences and gradations, which 
make one man preferable to another. Any one, that has 
competent sense, is sufficient for their entertainment : They 
talk to him, of their pleasure 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 ot 
a celebrated French 1 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 
sensibly, how much all the rest of mankind fall short of the 
notions which he has entertained. And, his affections being 
thus confined within a narrow circle, no wonder he carries 
them further, than if they were more general and undistin- 
guished. 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. 



Essay II. Of the Liberty of the Press, 

Nothing is more apt to surprize a foreigner, than the ex- 
treme liberty, which we enjoy in this country, of communi- 
cating whatever we please to the public, and of openly 
censuring every measure, entered into by the king or his 
ministers. If the administration resolve upon war, it is 
affirmed, that, either wilfully or ignorantly, they mistake 
the interests of the nation, and that peace, in the present 
situation of affairs, is infinitely preferable. If the passion 
of the ministers lie towards peace, our political writers 
breathe nothing but war and devastation, and represent the 
pacific conduct of the government as mean and pusillanimous. 
As this liberty is not indulged in any other government, 
either republican or monarchical ; in Holland and Venice, 

1 Mons. Fonteneixk, Plurality des Mondes. Soir. 6. 



LIBEKTY OF THE PRESS. 95 

more than in France or Spain ; it may very naturally give 
occasion to a question, How it happens that Great Britain 
alone enjoys this peculiar privilege ? 1 

The reason, why the laws indulge us in such a liberty' 
seems to be derived from our mixed form of government, I 
which is neither wholly monarchical, nor wholly republican. 
Tt will be found, if I mistake not, a true observation in 
politics, that the two extremes in government, liberty and 
slavery, commonly approach nearest to each other ; and 
that, as you depart from the extremes, and mix a little 
of monarchy with liberty, the government becomes always 
the more free ; and on the other hand, when you mix a little 
of liberty with monarchy, the yoke becomes always the more 
grievous and intolerable. 2 In a government, such as that of 
France, which is absolute, and where law, custom, and 
religion concur, all of them, to make people fully satisfied 
with their condition, the monarch cannot entertain 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 ad- 
vantages result from such powers, in preserving peace and 
order, yet they lay a considerable restraint on men's actions, 
and make every private citizen pay a great respect to the 
government. Thus it seems evident, that the two extremes > 
of absolute monarchy and of a republic, approach near to ] 
each other in some material circumstances. In the first, the \ 
magistrate has no jealousy 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 pro- 
duces 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 more easy or more grievous ; I must take notice of 
a remark in Tacitus with regard to the Eomans under the 

1 [And whether the unlimited exercise 2 [I shall endeavour to explain my- 

of this liberty be advantageous or pre- self. Editions D to P.] 
judicial to the public? Editions A to P.] 



96 ESSAY n. 

emperors, 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 English, in his lively description of queen Elizabeth's 
policy and government, 

Etfit aimer sonjoug a VAnglois indompti, 
Qui ne peut ni servir, ni vivre en liberie. 

Hbneiadb, liv. 1. 

According to these remarks, we are to consider the Roman 
government under the emperors as a mixture of despotism 
and liberty, where the despotism prevailed ; and the English 
government as a mixture of the same kind, where the liberty 
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, 
many 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 government prevails in England, though with a great 
mixture of monarchy, it is obliged, for its own preservation, 
to maintain a watchful jealousy over the magistrates, to re- 
move all discretionary powers, and to secure every one's life 
and fortune by general 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 ; and even these judges must 
be his fellow-subjects, who are obliged, by their own in- 
terest, 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, perhaps, licentious- 
ness in Great Britain, as there were formerly slavery and 
tyranny in Rome.? 

These principles account for the great liberty of the press 
in these kingdoms, beyond what is indulged in any other 
government. l It is apprehended, that arbitrary power would 
steal in upon us, were we not careful to prevent its progress, 

1 ['Tie sufficiently known. Editions A to P.] 



POLITICS A SCIENCE. 99 

thing seemed to be totally changed ; and all from the dif- 
ference of the temper and conduct of these two sovereigns. 1 
Instances of this kind may be multiplied, almost without 
number, fron ancient as well as modern history, foreign as 
well as domestic. 

But here it may be proper to make a distinction. All abso- 
lute governments 2 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 
influence, and made it not the interest, even of bad men, to 
act for the public good. Such is the intention of these 
forms of government, and such is their real effect, where 
they are wisely constituted : As on the other hand, they are 
the source of all disorder, 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 
government, 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 Eoman republic gave the whole 
legislative power to the people, without allowing a nega- 
tive 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 suc- 
cess and conquest, 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 licentious, and the 

1 [Editions A to P insert the follow- 2 [Editions A to Q insert : And such, 

ing: An equal difference of a contrary in a great measure, was that of Eng- 

kind, may be found on comparing the land, till the middle of the last cen- 

reigns of Elizabeth and James, at least tury, notwithstanding the numerous 

with regard to foreign affairs. panegyrics on ancient English liberty. 

They omit the words ' foreign as well Editions A and B stop at the word 

as domestic ' in the next sentence.] century.] 

h2 



iod essay nr. 

Campus Martius was a perpetual scene of tumult and sedi- 
tion: 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 Caesars. Such are the 
effects of democracy without a representative. 

A Nobility may possess the whole, or any part of the legis- 
lative power of a state, in two different ways. Either every 
nobleman 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 
aristocracy 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 vas- 
sals, and the whole body has no authority but what it re- 
ceives 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 
authority 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 pro- 
perty ; because 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 distinction in 
the state. The whole nobility will form one body, and the 
whole people another, without any of those private feuds and 
animosities, which spread ruin and desolation every where. 
It is easy to see the disadvantages of a Polish nobility in 
every one of these particulars. 

It is possible so to constitute a free government, as that 
a single person, call him doge, prince, or king, shall possess 
a large share of power, and shall form a proper balance or 
counterpoise to the other parts of the legislature. This 
chief magistrate may be either elective or hereditary ; and 



POLITICS A SCIENCE. 101 

though the former institution may, to a superficial view, 
appear the most advantageous ; yet a more accurate inspec- 
tion will discover in it greater inconveniencies than in the 
latter, and such as are founded on causes and principles 
eternal and immutable. The filling of the throne, in such a 
government, is a point of too great and too general interest, 
not to divide the whole people into factions : Whence a civil 
war, the greatest of ills, may be apprehended, almost with 
certainty, upon every vacancy. The prince elected must be 
either a Foreigner or a Native : The former will be ignorant 
of the people whom he is to govern ; suspicious of his new 
subjects, and suspected by them ; giving his confidence en- 
tirely to strangers, who will have no other care but of enrich- 
ing themselves in the quickest manner, while their master's 
favour and authority are able to support them. A native 
will carry into the throne all his private animosities and 
friendships, and will never be viewed in his elevation, with- 
out exciting 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 procure the votes of the electors: So that 
such an election will give no better chance for superior merit 
in the prince, than if the state had trusted to birth alone for 
determining their sovereign. 

It may therefore be pronounced as an universal axiom in 
politics, That an hereditary prince, a nobility without vassals, 
and a people voting by their representatives, form the best 
monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. But in order to 
prove more fully, that politics admit of general truths, which 
are invariable by the humour or education either of subject 
or sovereign, it may not be amiss to observe some other prin- 
ciples of this science, which may seem to deserve that 
character. 

It may easily be observed, that, though free governments 
have been commonly the most happy for those who partake 
of their freedom ; yet are they the most ruinous and op- 
pressive to their provinces : And this observation may, I 
believe, be fixed as a maxim of the kind we are here speaking 
of. When a monarch extends his dominions by conquest, he 
soon learns to consider his old and his new subjects as on 
the same footing ; because, in reality, all his subjects are to 



102 ESSAY m. 

him the same, except the few friends and favourites, with 
whom he is personally acquainted. He does not, therefore, 
make any distinction between them in his general laws ; and, 
at the same time, is careful to prevent all particular acts of 
oppression on the one as well as on the other. But a free 
state necessarily makes a great distinction, and must always 
do so, till men learn to love their neighbours as well as 
themselves. The conquerors, in such a government, are all 
legislators, and will be sure to contrive matters, by restric- 
tions on trade, and by taxes, so as to draw some private, as 
well as public, advantage from their conquests. Provincial 
governors have also a better chance, in a republic, to escape 
with their plunder, by means of bribery or intrigue; and 
their fellow-citizens, who find their own state to be enriched 
by the spoils of the subject provinces, will be more inclined 
to tolerate such abuses. Not to mention, that it is a necessary 
precaution in a free state to change the governors frequently ; 
which obliges these temporary tyrants to be more expedi- 
tious and rapacious, that they may accumulate sufficient 
wealth before they give place to their successors. What 
cruel tyrants were the Komans over the world during the 
time of their commonwealth ! It is true, they had laws to 
prevent oppression in their provincial magistrates; but 
Cicero informs us, that the Komans could not better consult 
the interests of the provinces than by repealing these very 
laws. For, in that case, says he, our magistrates, having 
entire impunity, would plunder no more than would satisfy 
their own rapaciousness ; whereas, at present, they must 
also satisfy that of their judges, and of all the great men in 
Eome, of whose protection they stand in need. Who can 
read of the cruelties and oppressions of Verres without 
horror and astonishment ? And who is not touched with in- 
dignation to hear, that, after Cicero had exhausted on that 
abandoned criminal all the thunders of his eloquence, and 
had prevailed so far as to get him condemned to the utmost 
extent of the laws ; yet that cruel tyrant lived peaceably to 
old age, in opulence and ease, and, thirty years afterwards, 
was put into the proscription by Mark Anthony, on account 
of his exorbitant wealth, where he fell with Cicero himself, 
and all the most virtuous men of Kome ? After the dissolu- 
tion of the commonwealth, the Roman yoke became easier 




POLITICS A SCIENCE. 103 

upon the provinces, as Tacitus informs us * ; and it may be 
observed, that many of the worst emperors, Domitian, 2 for 
instance, were careful to prevent all oppression on the pro- 
vinces. In 3 Tiberius's time, Gaul was esteemed richer than 
Italy itself : Nor, do I find, during the whole time of the 
Koman monarchy, that the empire became less rich or popu- 
lous in any of its provinces ; though indeed its valour and 
military discipline were always upon the decline. 4 The op- 
pression and tyranny of the Carthaginians over their sub- 
ject states in Africa went so far, as we learn from Poltbius, 5 
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 fron ancient 
to modern times, we shall still find the observation to hold. 
The provinces of absolute monarchies are always better treated 
than those of free states. Compare the 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 privi- 
leges as should naturally make it challenge better 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 
regarded as one of those eternal political truths, which no 
time nor accidents can vary. It may seem strange, says that 
politician, that such sudden conquests, as those of Alex- 
ander, 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 govern- 
ment. To satisfy us concerning 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 

1 Ann. lib. 1. cap. 2. cogitarent. Tacit. Ann. lib. 3. 40. [Ed. 

2 Stjet. in vita Domit. c. 8. A reads Vespasian's, and gives no re- 

3 Egregium resumendce libertati tern- ference.] 

pus, si ipsi florentes, quam inops Italia, * [This sentence and the notes 1 and 2 

quam imbettis urbana plebs, nihil vali- were added in Edition K] 
dum in exercitibus, nisi quod externum 5 Lib. 1. cap. 72. 



104 



ESSAY ni. 



what proceeds immediately from himself: no advantages 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 fortu- 
nate atchievements. In the former species of government, 
after a conquest, it is impossible ever to shake off the yoke ; 
since no one possesses, among the people, so much personal 
credit and authority as to begin such an enterprize : 
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 undertaking. 1 



1 I have taken it for granted, accord- 
ing to the supposition of Machiavel, 
that the ancient Persians had no no- 
bility ; though there is reason to suspect, 
that the Florentine secretary, who 
seems to have been better acquainted 
with the Eoman than the Greek 
authors, was mistaken in this parti- 
cular. The more ancient Persians, 
whose manners are described by Xeno- 
phon, were a free people, and had nobi- 
lity. Their 6/j.6tihoi were preserved 
even after the extending of their con- 
quests and the consequent change of 
their government. Arrian mentions 
them in Darius's time, Be exped. Alex, 
lib. ii. 11. Historians also speak often of 
the persons in command as men of 
family. Tyoranes, who was general of 
the Medes under Xerxes, was of the 
race of Achm.snes, Herod, lib. vii. cap. 
62. Artachjeas, who directed the 
cutting of the canal about mount Athos, 
was of the same family. Id. cap. 1 1 7. 
Megabyztjs was one of the seven emi- 
nent Persians who conspired against 
tho Magi. His son, Zopyrus, was in 
the highest command under Darius, 
and delivered Babylon to him. His 
grandson, Megabyztjs, commanded the 
army, defeated at Marathon. His 
great-grandson, Zopyrtjs, was also emi- 
nent, and was banished Persia. Herod. 
lib.iii. 160. Thtjc. lib.i. 109. Rosaces, 
who commanded an army in Egypt under 
Artaxkrxes, was also descended from 
one of the seven conspirators, Diod. Sic. 
lib. xvi. 47. AGEsiLArs, in Xenophon, 



Hist. Grjrc. lib. iv. 1, being desirous of 
making a marriage betwixt king Cotys 
his ally, and the daughter of Spithri- 
dates, a Persian of rank, who had 
deserted to him, first asks Cotys what 
family Spithridates is of. One of the 
most considerable in Persia, says Cotys. 
Arijevs, when offered the sovereignty 
by Clearchtjs and the ten thousand 
Greeks, refused it as of too low a rank, 
and said, that so many eminent Per- 
sians would never endure his rule. Id. 
de exped. lib. ii. Some of the families 
descended from the seven Persians 
abovementioned remained during all 
Alexander's successors ; and Mithri- 
dates, in Antiochus's time, is said by 
Polybitjs to be descended from one of 
them, lib. v. cap. 43. Artabazus was 
esteemed, as Arrian says, tv rois rrpdrois 
Utpauv. lib. iii. 23. And when Alex- 
ander married in one day 80 of his 
captains to Persian women, his inten- 
tion plainly was to ally the Macedo- 
nians with the most eminent Persian 
families. Id. lib. vii. 4. Diodorus Sictj- 
lus says they were of the most noble 
birth iu Persia, lib. xvii. 107. The go- 
vernment of Persia was despotic, and 
conducted in many respects, after the 
eastern manner, but was not carried so 
far as to extirpate all nobility, and con- 
found all ranks and orders. It left men 
who were still great, by themselves and 
their family, independent of their office 
and commission. And the reason why 
the Macedonians kept so easily domi- 
nion over them was owing to other 



POLITICS A SCIENCE. 105 

Such is the reasoning of Machiavel, which seems solid and 
conclusive ; though I wish he had not mixed falsehood with 
truth, in asserting, that monarchies, governed according to 
eastern policy, though more easily kept when once subdued, 
yet are the most difficult to subdue ; since they cannot con- 
tain any powerful subject, whose discontent and faction may 
facilitate the enterprizes of an army. For besides, that such 
a tyrannical government enervates the courage of men, and 
renders them indifferent towards the fortunes of their sove- 
reign ; besides this, I say, we find by experience, that even 
the temporary and delegated authority of the generals and 
magistrates ; being always, 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 re- 
spect, 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 govern- 
ment of a state entirely to chance, but ought to provide a 
system of laws to regulate the administration of public affairs 
to the latest posterity. Effects will always correspond to 
causes ; and wise regulations 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 conducted, are found to be a con- 
siderable check on the natural depravity of mankind. Why 
should not the case be the same in public affairs ? Can we 
ascribe the stability and wisdom of the Venetian govern- 
ment, through so many ages, to any thing but the form of 
government ? And is it not easy to point out those defects 
in the original constitution, which produced the tumultuous 
governments of Athens and Rome, and ended at last in the 
ruin of these two famous republics ? And so little dependance 
has this affair on the humours and education of particular 
men, that one part of the same republic may be wisely con- 
ducted, and another weakly, by the very same men, merely 
on account 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 

causes easy to be found in the histo- however doubtful its application to the 
rians ; though it must be owned that present case. [This note was added in 
Machiavel' s reasoning is, in itself, just, Edition K.] 



106 ESSAY m. 

was always 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 wisdom. * 

2 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 cus- 
toms have instilled little humanity or justice into the tempers 
of men. The most illustrious period of the Bom an history, 
considered in a political view, is that between the beginning 
of the first and end of the last Punic war ; the due balance 
between the nobility and people being then fixed by the 
contests of the tribunes, and not being yet lost by the extent 
of conquests. Yet at this very time, the horrid practice of 
poisoning was so common, that, during part of a season, a 
Prcetor punished capitally for this crime above three thousand 3 
persons in a part of Italy ; and found informations of this 
nature still multiplying upon him. There is a similar, or 
rather a worse instance, 4 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 
Triumvirates ; when they were tearing their common country 
to pieces, and spreading slaughter and desolation over the 
face of the earth, merely for the choice of tyrants. 5 

Here, then, is a sufficient inducement to maintain, with 
the utmost Zeal, in every free state, those forms and institu- 
tions, 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 susceptible of so noble a passion ; as nothing can 
be a greater indication of meanness of heart in any man, 
than to see him destitute of it. A man who loves only him- 

1 Essempio veramente raro, 4" da dalla Venetiana memorabile. Delia 

FUosofi infante loro imaginate 8[ vedute Hist. Florentine, lib. 8. 
Bepubliche max non trovato, vedere dentro 2 [This paragraph was added in Edi- 

ad un medetimo cerchio, fra medesimi tion I).] 
cittadini, la liberta $ la tirannide, la * T. Livn, lib. 40. cap. 43. 

vita civile # la corotta, la giustitia $ la * Id. lib. 8. cap. 18. 

licenza ; perche quelle- ordine solo man- LAigle contre LAigle, Romains 

tiere quella citta piena di costumi an- contre Romains, 

tirhi ^ vcnerabili. E s'egli auvenisse Combatans settlement pour le choix 

(che col tempo in ogni modo auvcrra) que de tyrans. 

San Giorgio tutta quel la citta occu- Corneiixe. 

passe, sarrebbe quella una Republica piu 




POLITICS A SCIENCE. 107 

self, without regard to friendship and desert, merits the 
severest blame ; and a man, who is only susceptible of friend- 
ship, 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 enow of zealots on both sides who 
kindle up the passions of their partizans, and under pretence 
of public good, pursue the interests and ends of their par- 
ticular faction. For my part, I shall always be more fond of 
promoting moderation than zeal ; though perhaps the surest 
way of producing moderation in every party is to increase 
our zeal for the public. Let us therefore try, if it be possible, 
from the foregoing doctrine, to draw a lesson of moderation 
with regard to the parties, into which our country is at pre- 
sent l divided ; at the same time, that we allow not this 
moderation to abate the industry and passion, with which 
every individual is bound to pursue the good of his country. 

Those who either attack or defend a minister in such a 
government as ours, where the utmost liberty is allowed, 
always carry matters to an extreme, and exaggerate his merit 
or 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 
i wars, scandalous treaties, profusion of public treasure, op- 
ressive taxes, every kind of mal-administration is ascribed 
to him. To aggravate the charge, his pernicious conduct, it 
is said, will extend its baleful influence even to posterity, by 
undermining the best constitution in the world, and dis- 
ordering 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 administration. The honour and interest of the 
nation supported abroad, public credit maintained at home, 
persecution restrained, faction subdued ; the merit of all 
these blessings is ascribed solely to the minister. At the 

1 [Editions D to N give the date 1742.] 



108 ESSAY III. 

same time, lie crowns all his other merits by a religious care 
of the best constitution in the world, which he has preserved 
in all its parts, and has transmitted entire, to be the happiness 
and security of the latest posterity. 

When this accusation and panegyric are received by the 
partizans of each party, no wonder they beget an extraor- 
dinary ferment on both sides, and fill the nation with violent 
animosities. But I would fain persuade these party- zealots, 
that there is a flat contradiction both in the accusation and 
panegyric, and that it were impossible for either of them to 
run so high, were it not for this contradiction. If our con- 
stitution be really that noble fabric, the pride of Britain, the 
envy of our neighbours, raised by the labour of so many centu- 
ries, repaired at the expence of so many millions, and cemented 
by such a profusion of blood x ; I say, if our constitution does 
in any degree deserve these 2 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 minister 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 re- 
markable events, as the Revolution and Accession, by which 
our ancient royal family was sacrificed to it; if our constitu- 
tion, I say, with so great advantages, does not, in fact, 
provide any such remedy, we are rather beholden to any 
minister who undermines it, and affords us an opportunity 
of erecting a better in its place. 

I would employ the same topics to moderate the zeal of 
those who defend the minister. Is our constitution so excel- 
lent ? 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 consti- 
tution very bad ? Then so extraordinary a jealousy and ap- 

1 Dissertation on parties, Letter 10. word is frequently 80 written in the 
* [Elogiums: Editions A to D. The Treatise.] 



POLITICS A SCIENCE. 109 

prehension, on account of changes, is ill placed ; and a man 
should no more be anxious in this case, than a husband, who 
had married a woman from the stews, should be watchful to 
prevent her infidelity. Public affairs, in such a government, 
must necessarily go to confusion, by whatever hands they are 
conducted ; and the zeal of patriots is in that case much less 
requisite than the patience and submission of philosophers. 
The virtue and good intentions of Cato and Beutus are 
highly laudable ; but, to what purpose did their zeal serve P 
Only to hasten the fatal period of the Koman government, 
and render its convulsions and dying agonies more violent 
and painful. 

I would not be understood to mean, that public affairs 
deserve no care and attention at all. Would men be mode- 
rate 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- administration 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. 
I would only persuade men not to contend, as if they were 
fighting pro aris &focis, and change a good constitution into 
a bad one, by the violence of their factions. 1 

I have not here considered any thing that is personal in 
the present controversy. In the best civil constitution, 
where every man is constrained 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 im- 
portance to the public, and lay those, who employ their pens 
upon them, under a just suspicion either of malevolence or 
of flattery. 



Essay IV. Of the First Principles of Government. 

Nothing appears more surprizing to those, who consider 
human affairs with a philosophical eye, than the easiness 
with which the many are governed by the few; and the 

1 [Editions D to P give in a note the Walpole. It will be found in the con- 
well-known Character of Sir Eobert eluding section of Vol. IV. Ed.] 



110 ESSAY rv. 

implicit submission, with which men resign their own senti- 
ments 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 government is founded ; 
and this maxim extends to the most despotic and most 
military governments, as well as to the most free and most 
popular. The soldan of Egypt, or the emperor of Eome, 
might drive his harmless subjects, like brute beasts, against 
their sentiments and inclination : But he must, at least, have 
led his mamalukes, or prcetorian bands, like men, by their 
opinion. 

Opinion is of two kinds, to wit, opinion of interest, and 
opinion of right. By opinion of interest, I 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 ad- 
vantageous 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 government. 

Eight is of two kinds, right to Power and right to Pro- 
perty. What prevalence opinion of the first kind has over 
mankind, may easily be understood, by observing the attach- 
ment which all nations have to their ancient government, 
and even to those names, which have had the sanction of 
antiquity. Antiquity always begets the opinion of right ; 
and whatever disadvantageous sentiments we may entertain 
of mankind, they are always found to be prodigal both of 
blood and treasure in the maintenance of public justice. 1 
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 
principle, there is no occasion, where men discover a greater 

1 [Editions A to P insert as follows : human affairs, would prove himself but 

This passion we may denominate en- of a very limited understanding, 
thusiasm, or we may give it what ap- Editions A and B omit the remainder 

pellation we please ; but a politician, of the paragraph.] 
who should overlook its influence on 



PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. Ill 

obstinacy, and a more determined sense of justice and 
equity. The same social disposition ot* mankind is the cause 
of these contradictory appearances. 

It is sufficiently understood, that the opinion of right to 
property is of moment in all matters of government. A 
noted author 1 has made property the foundation of all 
government ; and most of our political writers seem inclined 
to follow him in that particular. 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 govern- 
ments 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 sup- 
pose the antecedent influence of those opinions above- 
mentioned. They are, therefore, to be esteemed the se- 
condary, not the original principles of government. 

For, first, as to self-interest, by which I mean the expecta- 
tion of particular rewards, distinct from the general protec- 
tion 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 persons ; 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 particular set of men, if these 
men had no other title to magistracy, and had no separate 
influence over the opinions of mankind. The same obser- 
vation may be extended to the other two principles of fear 
and affection. No man would have any reason to fear the 
fury of a tyrant, if he had no authority over any but from 
fear ; since, as a single man, his bodily force can reach but 
a small way, and 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 sovereign extends very far, and has great in- 
1 [Harrington : see p. ] 22. Ed.] 



112 ESSAY IV. 

fluence ; 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 
balance of power, and the balance of property do not coincide. 
This chiefly happens, where any rank or order of the state 
has acquired a large share in the property ; but from the 
original constitution of the government, has no share in the 
power. Under what pretence would any individual of that 
order assume authority in public affairs ? As men are com- 
monly much attached to their ancient government, it is not 
to be expected, that the public would ever favour such 
usurpations. But where the original constitution allows 
any share of power, though small, to an order of men, 
who possess a large share of the property, it is easy for 
them gradually to stretch their authority, and bring the 
balance of power to coincide with that of property. This 
has been the case with the house of commons in England. 

Most writers, that have treated of the British govern- 
ment, have supposed, that, as the lower house represents all 
the commons of Great Britain, its weight in the scale 
is proportioned to the property and power of all whom it 
represents. But this principle must not be received as 
absolutely true. 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 the public guar- 
dians of their liberty ; yet are there instances where the 
house, even when in opposition to the crown, has not been 
followed by the people ; as we may particularly observe of 
the 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 



PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 113 

wasted ; and no skill, popularity, or revenue, could support 
it. I must, therefore, 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 pursued with some 
method and constancy. But it is needless to 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. 1 



Essay V. 2 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 government, as having ultimately 

1 [Editions A to N add the following which ought to be plac'd on instruc- 
paragraph : I shall conclude this tions. But such is the nature of lan- 
subject with observing, that the present guage, that it is impossible for it to 
political controversy, with regard to in- express distinctly these different de- 
structions, is a very frivolous one, and grees ; and if men will carry on a con- 
can never be brought to any decision, troversy on this head, it may well 
as it is managed by both parties. The happen, that they differ in their lan- 
country -party pretend not, that a mem- guage, and yet agree in their sentiments; 
ber is absolutely bound to follow in- or differ in their sentiments, and yet 
structions, as an ambassador or general agree in their language. Besides, how 
is confined by his orders, and that his is it possible to find these degrees, con- 
vote is not to be received in the house, sidering the variety of affairs which 
but so far as it is conformable to them. come before the house, and the variety 
The court-party again, pretend not, that of places which members represent ? 
the sentiments of the people ought to Ought the instructions of Totness to 
have no weight with every member; have the same weight as those of 
much less that he ought to despise the London ? or instructions, with regard 
sentiments of those he represents, and to the Convention, which respected 
with whom he is more particularly con- foreign politics, to have the same weight 
nected. And if their sentiments be of as those with regard to the excise, which 
weight, why ought they not to express respected only our domestic affairs ? ] 
these sentiments? The question, then, * [This Essay was added in the last 
is only concerning the degrees of weight, Edition.] 

VOL. III. I 



114 ESSAY V. 

no other object or purpose but the distribution of justice, 
or, in other words, the support of the twelve judges. Kings 
and parliaments, fleets and armies, officers of the court 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 main- 
tain peace and order; and all men are sensible of the 
necessity of peace and order for the maintenance of society. 
Yet, notwithstanding this strong and obvious necessity, such 
is the frailty or perverseness of our nature ! it is impossible 
to keep men, faithfully and unerringly, in the paths of 
justice. Some extraordinary circumstances may happen, in 
which a man finds his interests 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 in- 
terests, by the allurement of present, though often very frivo- 
lous 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 decrees of equity, to punish transgressors, to 
correct fraud and violence, and to oblige men, however re- 
luctant, to consult their own real and permanent interests. 
Tn a word, Obedience is a new duty which must be in- 
vented to support that of Justice ; and the tyes of equity 
must be corroborated by those of allegiance. 

But still, viewing matters in an abstract light, it may be 
thought, that nothing is gained by this alliance, and that 
the factitious duty of obedience, from its very 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 inconvenience. And 
the man, who is inclined to be a bad neighbour, must be led by 
the same motives, well or ill understood, to be a bad citizen 
and subject. Not to mention, that the magistrate himself may 
often be negligent, or partial, or unjust in his administration. 

Experience, however, proves, that there is a great dif- 






ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 115 

forence between the cases. Order in society, we find, is much 
better maintained by means of government ; and our duty to 
the magistrate is more strictly guarded by the principles of 
human nature, than our duty to our fellow-citizens. The love 
of dominion is so strong in the breast of man, that many, 
not only submit to, but court all the dangers, and fatigues, and 
cares of government; and men, once raised to that station, 
though often led astray by private passions, find, in ordinary 
cases, a visible interest in the impartial administration of 
justice. The persons, who first attain this distinction by 
the consent, tacit or express, of the people, must be endowed 
with superior personal qualities of valour, force, integrity, 
or prudence, which command respect and confidence : and 
after government is established, a regard to birth, rank, and 
station has a mighty 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 fol- 
lowed by all indifferent persons in the execution of his office. 
He soon acquires the power of rewarding these services ; and 
in the progress of society, he establishes subordinate minis- 
ters 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 im- 
perfectly 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 alle- 
giance brings to justice, be founded on obvious principles of 
human nature, it cannot be expected that men should before- 
hand be able to discover 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 requisite, 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 

i 2 



116 ESSAY V. 

chieftain possessed as much equity as prudence and valour, 
he became, even during peace, the arbiter of all differences, 
and could gradually, by a mixture of force and consent, 
establish his authority. The benefit sensibly felt from his 
influence, made it be cherished by the people, at least by the 
peaceable and well disposed among them ; and if his son en- 
joyed the same good qualities, government advanced the 
sooner to maturity and perfection ; 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 administration, and to inflict 
punishments on the refractory and disobedient. Before that 
period, each exertion of his influence must have been par- 
ticular, 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 Liberty ; and 
neither of them can ever absolutely prevail in the contest. 
A great sacrifice 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 fortune of any individual; but will 
not be permitted to impose new taxes on his subjects : a 
French monarch can impose taxes at pleasure ; but would 
find it dangerous to attempt the lives and fortunes of in- 
dividuals. 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 ap- 
pellation, receives the appellation of free, is that which admits 
of a partition of power among several members, whose 
united authority is no less, or is commonly greater than that 
of any monarch ; but who, in the usual course of administra- 
tion, 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 



ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 



117 



essential to its very existence : and in those contests, which 
so often take place between the one and the other, the latter 
may, on that account, challenge the preference. Unless 
perhaps one may say (and it may be said with some reason) 
that a circumstance, which is essential to the existence of 
civil society, must always support itself, and needs be guarded 
with less jealousy, than one that contributes only to its per- 
fection, which the indolence of men is so apt to neglect, or 
their ignorance to overlook. 



Essay VI. On the Independency of Parliament. 1 

Political writers have established it as a maxim, that, in 
contriving any system of government, and fixing the several 
checks and controuls of the constitution, every man ought to 



1 [In Editions A to N this Essay is 
introduced by the following examina- 
tion of the spirit of parties. 

I have frequently observed, in com- 
paring the conduct of the court and 
country parties, that the former are 
commonly less assuming and dogmati- 
cal in conversation, more apt to make 
concessions ; and tho' not, perhaps, 
more susceptible of conviction, yet more 
able to bear contradiction than the 
latter ; who are apt to fly out upon any 
opposition, and to regard one as a 
mercenary designing fellow, if he 
argues with any coolness and impar- 
tiality, or makes any concessions to 
their adversaries. This is a fact, which, 
I believe, every one may have observed, 
who has been much in companies where 
political questions have been discussed ; 
tho', were one to ask the reason of this 
difference, every party would be apt to 
assign a different reason. Gentlemen 
in the Opposition will ascribe it to the 
very nature of their party, which, 
being founded on public spirit, and a 
zeal for the constitution, cannot easily 
endure such doctrines, as are of perni- 

ims consequence to liberty. The oour- 
Vrs, on the other hand, will be apt to 
It us in mind of the clown mentioned 

llord Shaftsbtjiiy. "A clown," says 
tJit excellent author, 1 "once took a 
fancy to hear the Latin disputes of doctors 
at an university. He was asked what 
pleasure he could take in viewing such 
combatants, when he could never know 



so much, as which of the parties had 
the better. For that matter, replied 
the clown, I a'n't such a fool neither, 
but I can see who's the first that puts 
t'other into a passion. Nature herself 
dictated this lesson to the clown, that 
he who had the better of the argument 
would be easy and well-humoured : 
But he who was unable to support his 
cause by reason would naturally lose 
his temper and grow violent." 

To which of these reasons shall we 
adhere ? To neither of them, in my 
opinion ; unless we have a mind to 
enlist ourselves and become zealots in 
either party. I believe I can assign 
the reason of this different conduct of 
the two parties, without offending 
either. The country party are plainly 
most popular at present, and perhaps 
have been so in most administrations : 
So that, being accustomed to prevail in 
company, they cannot endure to hear 
their opinions controverted, but are as 
confident on the public favour, as if 
they were supported in all their sen- 
timents by the most infallible demon- 
stration. The courtiers, on the other 
hand, are commonly so run down by 
popular talkers, that if you speak to 
them with any moderation, or make 
them the smallest concessions, they 
think themselves extremely beholden 
to you, and are apt to return the favour 
by a like moderation and facility on 
their part. To be furious and passion- 
ate, they know, would only gain them 



1 Miscellaneous Eeflections, 107. 



118 



ESSAY VI. 



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 insatiable avarice and ambition, co-operate to public 
good. Without this, say they, we shall in vain boast of the 
advantages of any constitution, and shall find, in the end, 
that we have no security for our liberties or possessions, ex- 
cept the good-will of our rulers ; that is, we shall have no 
security at all. 

^->It is, therefore, a just political maxim, that every man must 
'be supposed a knave : Though at the same time, it appears 
somewhat strange, that a maxim should be true in politics t 



the character of shameless mercenaries ; 
not that of zealous patriots, which is 
the character that such a warm beha- 
viour is apt to acquire to the other 
party. 

In all controversies, we find, without 
regarding the truth or falshood on 
either side, that those who defend the 
established and popular opinions, are 
always the most dogmatical and im- 
perious in their stile : while their ad- 
versaries affect almost extraordinary 
gentleness and moderation, in order to 
soften, as much as possible, any preju- 
dices that may lye against them. Con- 
sider the behaviour of owe free-thinkers 
of all denominations, whether they be 
such as decry all revelation, or only 
oppose the exorbitant power of the 
clergy ; Collins, Tindal, Foster, Hoadley. 
Compare their moderation and good 
manners with the furious zeal and 
scurrility of their adversaries, and you 
will be convinced of the truth of 
my observation. A like difference may 
be observed in the conduct of those 
French writers, who maintained the 
controversy with regard to ancient and 
modern learning. Boileau, Monsieur 
and Madame Dacier, l'Abbe de Bos, 
who defended the party of the ancients, 
mixed their reasonings with satire and 
invective ; while Fontenelle, la Motte, 
Charpentier, and even Perrault, never 
transgressed the bounds of moderation 
and good breeding ; though provoked 
by the most injurious treatment of 
their adversaries. 

[ I must, however, observe, that this 
Remark with regard to the seeming 



Moderation of the Court Party, is en- 
tirely confin'd to Conversation, and 
to Gentlemen, who have been engag'd 
by Interest or Inclination in that 
Party. For as to the Court -Writers, 
being commonly hir'd Scriblers, they 
are altogether as scurrilous as the 
Mercenaries of the other Party; nor 
has the Gazetver any Advantage, in 
this Respect, above Common Sense. A 
man of Education will, in any Party, 
discover himself to be such, by his 
Good-breeding and Decency ; as a 
Scoundrel will always betray the 
opposite Qualities. The false Accusers 
accused, &c. is very scurrillous, tho' 
that Side of the Question, being least 
popular, shou'd be defended with most 
Moderation. When L d B e, 
L _ d M t, Mr. L n take the 
Pen in Hand, tho' they write with 
Warmth, they presume not upon their 
Popularity so far as to transgress the 
Bounds of Decency. 1 3 

I am led into this train of reflection, 
by considering some papers wrote upon 
that grand topic of court infttiencc and 
parliamentary dependence, where, in inv 
humble opinion, the country party, 
besides vehemence and satyre, shew too 
rigid an inflexibility, and too great a 
jealousy of making concessions to their 
adversaries. Their reasonings i! 
their force by being carried too far ; a56 
the popularity of their opinions '^f. 
seduced them to neglect in some measure 
their justness and solidity. The follow- 
ing reason will. I hope, serve to justify 
me in this opinion.] 



1 [This paragraph is only found in Editions A and B.] 



INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 119 

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 considerable body of men act together, this 
check is, in a great measure, removed ; since a man is sure 
to be approved of by his own party, for what promotes the 
common interest ; and he soon learns to despise the clamours 
of adversaries. To which we may add, that every court or - ] 
senate is determined by the greater number of voices; so 
that, if self-interest influences only the majority, (as it will 
always do 1 ) the whole senate follows the allurements of this 
separate interest, and acts as if it contained not one member, 
who had any regard to public interest and liberty. -* 

When there offers, therefore, to our censure and examina- 
tion, 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 1 
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 gov- 
ernment 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 authority of all 
philosophers and politicians, both antient and modern. 

How much, therefore, would it have surprised such a 
genius as Cicero, or Tacitus, to have been told, that, in a 
future age, there should arise a very regular system of mixed 
government, where the authority was so distributed, that one 
rank, whenever it pleased, might swallow up all the rest, and 
engross the whole power of the constitution. Such a govern- 
ment, 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 

1 [In the present depraved state of mankind. Editions A to D.] 



120 ESSAY VI. 

been mistaken. For this is actually the case with the British 
constitution. J The share of power, allotted by our constitu- 
tion to the house of commons, is so great, that it absolutely 

r commands all the other parts of the government. The king's 
legislative power is plainly no proper check to it. For though 
the king has a negative in framing laws ; yet this, in fact, is 
esteemed of so little moment, that whatever is voted by the 
two houses, is always sure to pass into a law, and the royal 
assent is little better than a form. The principal weight of 
the crown lies in the executive power. But besides that the 
executive power in every government is altogether subordinate 
to the legislative ; besides this, I say, the exercise of this 
power requires an immense 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 V 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 resolutions, and be 
from that moment absolute ? As to the house of lordt, they 
are a very powerful support to the Crown, so long as they 
are, in their turn, supported by it ; but both experience and 
reason shew, that they have no force or authority sufficient 
to maintain themselves alone, without such support. 

I How, therefore, shall we solve this paradox ? (JAnd by what 
means is this member of our constitution confined within the 
proper limits ; since, from our very constitution, it must 
necessarily have as much power as it demands, and can only 

i be confined by itself? How is this consistent with our ex- 
perience of human nature ? I answer, that the interest of 
the body is here restrained by that of the individuals, and 
that the house of commons 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 disinter- 
ested part of the house, it will always command the resolu- 
tions of the whole so far, at least, as to preserve the antient 
constitution from danger. We may, therefore, give to this 
influence what name we please; we may call it by the 



INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 121 

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 1 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 
proper degree of this dependence, beyond which it became 
dangerous to liberty. But such a moderation is not to be 
expected in party-men of any kind. After a concession of 
this nature, all declamation must be abandoned ; and a calm 
enquiry into the proper degree of court- influence and par- 
liamentary dependence would have been expected by the 
readers. And though the advantage, in such a controversy, 
might possibly remain to the country-party ; yet the victory 
would not be so compleat as they wish for, nor would a true 
patriot have given an entire loose to his zeal, for fear of 
running matters into a contrary extreme, by diminishing too 2 
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 
extremes 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, j 
either king or minister ; and as this person may have either j 
a greater or less degree of ambition, capacity, courage, popu- I 
larity, or fortune, the power, which is too great in one hand, j" 

1 See Dissertation on Parties, through- spy, or to be corrupted, is always infa- 
out. mous under all ministers, and is to be 

2 By that influence of the crown, regarded as a shameless prostitution, 
which I would justify, I mean only, Polybitjs justly esteems the pecuniary 
that arising from the offices and honours influence of the senate and censors to 
which are at the disposal of the crown. be one of the regular and constitutional 
As to private bribery, it may be con- weights, which preserved the balance of 
sidered in the same light as the practice the Roman government, Lib. 6, cap. 
of employing spies, which is scarce 15. [The reference to Polybius was 
justifiable in a good minister, and is added in Edition K.] 

infamous in a bad one : But to be a 



122 ESSAY VII. 

| may become too little in another. In pure republics, where 
the authority is distributed among several assemblies or 
senates, the checks and controuls 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 number, 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 disadvantage, 
among the many advantages, attending that species of 
government. 



Essat 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 
prophesy concerning any event, or foretel the remote con- 
sequences of things. A physician will not venture to pro- 
nounce concerning 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 monarchy has ever since 
subsisted upon the same footing as before. Notwithstanding 
this unlucky example, I will venture to examine an impor- 
tant question, to wit, Whether the British guoernment 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 danger of a sudden revo- 
lution 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 influ- 
ence on power cannot possibly be denied ; but yet the general 
maxim, that the balance of one depends on tJie balance of the 



THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 123 

other, must be received with several limitations. It is evi- 
dent, 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 dependence, than the same pro- 
perty, when dispersed. A hundred persons, of 1000Z. a year 
a-piece, can consume all their income, and no body shall 
ever be the better for them, except their servants and trades- 
men, who justly regard their profits as the product of their 
own labour. But a man possessed of 100,000L a year, if he 
has either any generosity or any cunning, may create a great 
dependence by obligations, and still a greater by expecta- 
tions. Hence we may observe, that, in all free governments, 
any subject exorbitantly rich has always created jealousy, 
even though his riches bore no proportion to those of the 
state. Crassus's fortune, if I remember well, amounted l 
only to 2 about two millions and a half of our money ; yet we 
find, that, though his genius was nothing extraordinar}', he 
was able, by means of his riches alone, to counterbalance, 
during his lifetime, the power of Pompet as well as that of 
CLesar, who afterwards became master of the world. The 
wealth of the Medici made them masters of Florence ; 
though, it is probable, it was not considerable, compared to 
the united property of that opulent republic. 

These considerations are apt to make one entertain a mag- 
nificent idea of the British spirit and love of liberty ; since 
we could maintain our free government, during so many cen- 
turies, against our sovereigns, who, besides the power and 
dignity and majesty of the crown, have always been possessed 
of much more property than any subject has ever enjoyed in 
any commonwealth. But it may be said, that this spirit, 
however great, will never be able to support .itself against 
that immense property, which is now lodged in the king, and 
which is still encreasing. Upon a moderate computation, 
there are near three millions a year at the disposal of the 
crown. The civil list amounts to near a million ; the col- 
lection of all taxes to another ; and the employments in the 

1 [Editions A and B : to Three Thou- in our money.] 
sand Talents a Year, about 400,000. 2 [Editions D to Q add : As interest 

Sterling. Editions D to Q,: only to in Rome was higher than with us, this 

about sixteen hundred thousand pounds might yield above 100,000^. a year.] 



124 ESSAY Vll 

army and navy, together with ecclesiastical preferments, to 
above a third million : An enormous sum, and what may 
fairly be computed to be more than a thirtieth 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 military force, 
there is no one but must despair of being able, without ex- 
traordinary efforts, to support our free government much 
longer under these disadvantages. 

On the other hand, those who maintain, that the byass of 
the British government leans towards a republic, may sup- 
port their opinion by specious arguments. It may be said, 
that, though this immense property 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 government : 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 preten- 
sions : l His partizans have liberty to hope for every thing in 
his favour : His enemies provoke his ambition, with his fears, 
by the violence of their opposition: And the government 
being thrown into a ferment, every corrupted humour in the 
state naturally gathers to him. On the contrary, a legal 
authority, though great, has always some bounds, which ter- 
minate both the hopes and pretensions of the person possessed 
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 is quietly submitted to, he has small temptation 
and small opportunity of extending it farther. Besides, it 
happens, with regard to ambitious aims and projects, what 
may be observed with regard to sects of philosophy and reli- 

[Editions A to N have the note: to the President de Bellievre. De 
On ne monte jamais si haut quequand Retz's Memoirs.] 
on ne scait pas ou on va, said Cromwell 



TIIE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 125 

gion. A new sect excites such a ferment, and is both op- 
posed and defended with such vehemence, that it always 
spreads faster, and multiplies its partizans with greater 
rapidity, than any old established opinion, recommended by 
the sanction of the laws and of antiquity. Such is the nature 
of novelty, that, where any thing pleases, it becomes doubly 
agreeable, if new; but if it displeases, it is doubly displeasing, 
upon that very account. And, in most cases, the violence of 
enemies is favourable to ambitious projects, as well as the 
zeal of 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 them- 
selves of all superstitious reverence to names and authority : 
The clergy have l much lost their credit : Their pretensions 
and doctrines have been ridiculed ; and even religion can 
scarcely support itself in the world. The mere name of king 
commands little respect ; and to talk of a king as God's 
viceregent on earth, or to give him any of those magnificent 
titles, which formerly dazzled mankind, would but excite 
laughter in every one. Though the crown, by means of its 
large revenue, may maintain its authority in times of tran- 
quillity, upon private interest and influence ; 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 revolution, as 
they are at present, monarchy would have run a great risque 
of being entirely lost in this island. 

Durst I venture to deliver my own sentiments amidst these 
opposite arguments, I would assert, that, unless there happen 
some extraordinary convulsion, the 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 rapidity, to the side of popular government, 
and is just beginning to turn towards monarchy. 

It is well known, that every government must come to a 

1 [Editions A to D read : have entirely lost.] 



120 ESSAY Vn. 

period, 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 monarch y P j 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 ex- 
pect. 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 ex- 
pect that any such government will ever be established in 
Great Britain, upon the dissolution of our monarchy? If 
any single person acquire power enough to take our consti- 
tution to pieces, and put it up a-new, he is really an abso- 
lute monarch ; and we have already had an instance of this 
kind, sufficient to convince us, that such a person will never 
resign his power, or establish any free government. Matters, 
therefore, must be trusted to their natural progress and 
operation ; and the house of commons, according to its pre- 
sent constitution, must be the only legislature in such a 
popular government. The inconveniencies attending such a 
situation of affairs, present themselves by thousands. If the 
house of commons, in such a case, ever dissolve itself, which 
is not to be expected, we may look for a civil war every 
election. If it continue itself, we shall suffer all the tyranny 
of a faction, subdivided into new factions. And, as such a 
violent government cannot long subsist, we shall, at last, 
after many convulsions, and civil wars, find repose in abso- 
lute monarchy, which it would have been happier for us to 
have established peaceably from the beginning. Absolute 
monarchy, therefore, is the easiest death, the true Euthanasia 
of the British constitution. 

Thus, if we have reason to be more jealous of monarchy, 

/ because the danger is more imminent from that quarter ; we 

I have also reason to be more jealous of popular government, 

I because that danger is more terrible. This may teach us a 

lesson of moderation in all our political controversies. 



OF PAETIES IN GENERAL. 127 

Essay VIII. Of Parties in General. 

Of all men, that distinguish themselves by memorable 
atchievements, the first place of honour seems due to Legis- 
lators and founders of states, who transmit a system of laws 
and institutions to secure the peace, happiness, and liberty I 
of future generations. The influence of useful inventions in 
the arts and sciences 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 sen- 
sible 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 leisure to apply 
themselves to them. And as to practical arts, which en- 
crease the commodities and enjoyments of life, it is well 
known, that men's happiness consists not so much in an 
abundance of these, as in the peace and security with which 
they possess them ; and those blessings can only be derived 
from good government. Not to mention, that general virtue 
and good morals in a state, which are so requisite to happi- 
ness, can never arise from the most refined precepts of philo- 
sophy, or even the severest injunctions of religion ; but must 
proceed entirely from the virtuous education of youth, the 
effect of wise laws and institutions. ] I must, therefore, pre- * 
sume 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 Ceees, Bacchus, .ZEsculapius ; and dignify 
legislators, such as Eomulus and Theseus, only with the 
appellation of demigods and heroes. 

A.s much as legislators and founders of states ought to be 
honoured and respected among men, as much ought the 
founders of sects and factions to be detested and hated; 
because the influence of faction is directly contrary to that 
of laws. Factions subvert government, render laws impd^l 
tent, and beget the fiercest animosities among men of the I 
same nation, who ought to give mutual assistance and pro-J 
tection 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, 



128 ESSAY VIII. 

in which they are sown. They are, besides, plants which 
grow most plentifully in the richest soil ; and though abso- 
lute governments be not wholly free from them, it must be 
confessed, that they rise more easily, and propagate them- 
selves 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 into 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 in- 
terest. 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 divides into factions, where there is 
no difference in the views of the constituent members, either 
real or apparent, trivial or material : And in those factions, 
which are founded on the most real and most material differ- 
ence, there is always observed a great deal of personal ani- 
mosity or affection. But notwithstanding 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. 

Personal factions arise most easily in small republics. 
Every domestic quarrel, there, becomes an affair of state. 
Love, vanity, emulation, any passion, as well as ambition 
and resentment, begets public division. The Neri and 
Bianchi of Florence, the Fregosi and Adorni of Genoa, 
the Colonesi and Orsini of modern Rome, were parties of 
this kind. 

I Men have such a propensity to divide into personal fac- 
tions, 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 un- 
happy government. 

1 We find in the Roman history a remarkable dissension 
between two tribes, the Pollia and Papiria, which continued 
for the space of near three hundred years, and discovered 

1 [This paragraph was added in Edition B.] 



OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 129 

itself in their suffrages at every election of magistrates. 1 
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 such 
divisions, the indifference of the rest of the community 
must have suppressed this foolish animosity, that had not 
any aliment of new benefits and injuries, of general sym- 
pathy and antipathy, which never fail to take place, when 
the whole state is rent into two equal factions. 

Nothing is more usual than to see parties, which have 
begun upon a real difference, continue even after that dif- 
ference is lost. When men are once inlisted on opposite 
sides, they contract an affection to the persons with whom 
they are united, and an animosity against their antagonists : 
And these passions they often transmit to their posterity. 
The real difference between Guelf and Ghibbelline was 
long lost in Italy, before these factions were extinguished. 
The Guelfs adhered to the pope, the Ghibbellines to the 
emperor ; yet the family of Sforza, who were in alliance 
with the emperor, though they were Guelfs, being expelled 
Milan by the king 2 of France, assisted by Jacomo Trivulzio 
and the Ghibbellines, the pope concurred with the latter, 
and they formed leagues with the pope against the emperor. 

The civil wars which arose some few years ago in Mo- 
rocco, between the blades and whites, merely on account of 
their complexion, are founded on a pleasant difference. 
We laugh at them ; but I believe, were things rightly ex- 
amined, we afford much more occasion of ridicule to the 
Moors. For, what are all the wars of religion, which have 
prevailed in this polite and knowing part of the world? 
They are certainly more absurd than the Moorish civil wars. 

1 As this fact has not been much corona lege belli venire: Memoriamque 

observed by antiquaries or politicians, ejus irce Tusctjlanis in poena tarn 

I shall deliver it in the words of the atrocis auetores mansisse ad patris 

Roman historian. Populus Tusculanus cetatem constat ; nee quemquam fere ex 

cum conjugibus ac liberis Romam venit: P oixia tribu candidatumP avirj am ferre 

Ea multitudo, veste mutata, et specie solitam, T. Livii, lib. 8. 37- The Caste- 

r< ortim tribus circuit, genibus se omnium iani and Nicolloti are two mobbish 

advolvens. Plus itaque misericordia ad factions in Venice, who frequently box 

poena oeniam impetrandam, quam causa together, and then lay aside their 

ad, crimen purgandum valuit. Tribus quarrels presently. [The last sentence 

omnes prater Polliam, antiquarunt was added in Edition D.] 

legem. Polxije sententia fuit, puberes 2 Lewis XII. 
vi rberatos necari, liberos conjugesque sub 

VOL. III. K 



130 ESSAY VHI. 

The difference of complexion is a sensible and a real dif- 
ference : But the controversy about an article of faith, which 
is utterly absurd and unintelligible, is not a difference in 
sentiment, but in a few phrases and expressions, which one 
party accepts of, without understanding them ; and the 
other refuses in the same manner. 1 

Real factions may be divided into those from interest, from 
principle, and from affection. Of all factions, the first are 
the most reasonable, and the most excusable. When two 
orders of men, such as the nobles and people, have a distinct 
authority in a government, not very accurately balanced and 
modelled, they naturally follow a distinct interest ; nor can 
we reasonably expect a different conduct, considering that 
degree Of selfishness implanted in human nature. It requires 
great skill in a legislator to prevent such parties ; and many 
philosophers are of opinion, that this secret, like the grand 
elixir, or perpetual motion, may amuse men in theory, but 
can never possibly be reduced to practice. In despotic 
governments, indeed, factions often do not appear ; but they 
are not the less real ; or rather, they are more real and 
more pernicious, upon that very account. The distinct 
orders of men, nobles and people, soldiers and merchants, 
have all a distinct interest ; but the more powerful oppresses 
the weaker with impunity, and without resistance ; which 
begets a seeming tranquillity in such governments. 2 

There has been an attempt in England to divide the 
landed and trading part of the nation ; but without success. 
The interests of these two bodies are not really distinct, 
and never will be so, till our public debts encrease to such a 
degree, as to become altogether oppressive and intolerable. 

Parties from principle, especially abstract speculative 
principle, are known only to modern times, and are, perhaps, 
the most extraordinary and unaccountable phenomenon, that 
has yet appeared in human affairs. Where different prin- 
ciples beget a contrariety of conduct, which is the case with 
all different political principles, the matter may be more 

1 [Editions A to P add the following : form a real opinion, more at his disposal 

Besides, I do not find that the whites than his complexion ? And can one be 

in Morocco ever imposed on the blacks induced by force or fear to do more 

any necessity of altering their com- than piint and disguise in the one case 

plexion, or threatened them with inqui- as well as in the other ?] 
sitions and penal laws in case of obsti- 2 [See Considerations sarle Grandeur 

nacy : nor have the blacks been more et sur la Decadence de Romains. Edi* 

unreasonable in this particular. But tion K.] 
is a man's opinion, where he is able to 



OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 131 

easily explained. A man, who esteems the true right of 
government to lie in one man, or one family, cannot easily 
agree with his fellow-citizen, who thinks that another man 
or family is possessed of this right. Each naturally wishes 
that right may take place, according to his own notions of 
it. But where the difference of principle is attended with 
no contrariety of action, but every one may follow his own 
way, without interfering with his neighbour, as happens in 
all religious controversies : what madness, what fury can 
beget such unhappy and such fatal divisions P 

Two men travelling on the highway, the one east, the 
other west, can easily pass each other, if the way be broad 
enough : But two men, reasoning upon opposite principles 
of religion, cannot so easily pass, without shocking ; though 
one should think, that the way were also, in that case, suffi- 
ciently broad, and that each might proceed, without inter- 
ruption, in his own course. But such is the nature of the" 
human mind, that it always lays hold on every mind that 
approaches it; and as it is wonderfully fortified by an 
unanimity of sentiments, so is it shocked and disturbed by 
any contrariety. Hence the eagerness, which most people 
discover in a dispute ; and hence their impatience of opposi- 
tion, even in the most speculative and indifferent opinions. 

This principle, however frivolous it may appear, seems 
to have been the origin of all religious wars and divisions. 
But as this principle is universal in human nature, its effects 
would not have been confined to one age, and to one sect 
of religion, did it not there concur with other more acci- 
dental causes, which raise it to such a height, as to produce I 
the greatest misery and devastation. Most religions of the 
ancient world arose in the unknown ages of government, 
when men were as yet barbarous and uninstructed, and the 
prince, as well as the peasant, was disposed to receive, with 
implicit faith, every pious tale of fiction, which was offered 
him. The magistrate embraced the religion of the people, 
and entering cordially into the care of sacred matters, 
naturally acquired an authority in them, and united the 
ecclesiastical with the civil power. But the Christian 
religion arising, while principles directly opposite to it 
were firmly established in the polite part of the world who 
despised the nation that first broached this novelty ; 
no wonder, that, in such circumstances, it was but little 

K 2 



132 ESSAY VHI. 

countenanced by the civil magistrate, and that the priest- 
hood was allowed to engross all the authority in the new 
sect. So bad a use did they make of this power, even in 
those early times, that the primitive persecutions may, 
perhaps, in part, 1 be ascribed to the violence instilled by 
them into their followers. And the same principles of 
priestly government continuing, after Christianity became 
the established religion, they have engendered a spirit of 
persecution, which has ever since been the poison of human 
society, and the source of the most inveterate factions in 
every government. Such divisions, therefore, on the part of 
the people, may justly be esteemed factions of principle ; but, 
on the part of the priests, who are the prime movers, they 
are really factions of interest. 

There is another cause (beside the authority of the priests, 
and the separation of the ecclesiastical and civil powers) 
which has contributed to render Christendom the scene of 
religious wars and divisions. Eeligions, that arise in ages 
totally ignorant and barbarous, consist mostly of traditional 
tales and fictions, which may be different in every sect, with- 
out being contrary to each other ; and even when they are 
contrary, every one adheres to the tradition of his own sect, 
without much reasoning or disputation. But as philosophy 
was widely spread over the world, at the time when Chris- 
tianity arose, the teachers of the new sect were obliged to 
form a system of speculative opinions ; to divide, with some 
accuracy, their articles of faith ; and to explain, comment, 

1 I say, in part ; For it is a vulgar the Gatjls from their ancient prejudices. 

error to imagine, that the ancients wire Suktonius, in vita Claudu. [Pliny 

as great friends to toleration as the ascribes the abolition of the Druidical 

Enollsh or Dutch are at present. The superstitions to Tiberius, probably 

l.i ws against external superstition, because that emperor had taken soma 

amongst the Romans, were as an- steps towards restraining them (lib. 

cient [as the time of the twelve xxx. cap. i.)] This is an instance of the 

tables] ; and the Jews as well as Chris- usual caution and moderation of the 

tians were sometimes punished by Romans in such cases ; and very 

them; though, in general, these laws different from their violent and san- 

were not rigorously executed. Imme- guinary method of treating the Chris- 

diately after the conquest of Gaul, they tiaus. Hence we may entertain a sus- 

forbad all but the natives to be initia- picion, that those furious persecutions 

ted into the religion of the Druids ; of Christianity were in some measure 

and this wag a kind of persecution. In owing to the imprudent zeal and bigotry 

about a century after this conquest, [the of the first propagators of that sect ; and 

emperor. CLATonitrs.] quite abolished Ecclesiastical history affords us many 

that superstition by penal laws ; which reasons to confirm this suspicion. [This 

would have been a very grievous per- note is not in A. B and D read: 'were 

Mention, it'th<t imitation of the Roman very ancient,' 'they quite,' and omit the 

manners hail not, before-hand, weaned reference to Pliny.] 



OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 133 

confute, and defend with all the subtilty of argument and 
science. Hence naturally arose keenness in dispute, when 
the Christian religion came to be split into new divisions and 
heresies : And this keenness assisted the priests in their 
policy, of begetting a mutual hatred and antipathy among 
their deluded followers. Sects of philosophy, in the ancient 
world, were more zealous than parties of religion ; but in 
modern times, parties of religion are more furious and 
enraged than the most cruel factions that ever arose from 
interest and ambition. 

I have mentioned parties from affection as a kind of real 
parties, beside those from interest and principle. By parties 
from affection, I understand those which are founded on the 
different attachments of men towards particular families and 
persons, whom they desire to rule over them. These factions 
are often very violent ; though, I must own, it may seem 
unaccountable, that men should attach themselves so strongly 
to persons, with whom they are no wise acquainted, whom 
perhaps they never saw, and from whom they never received, 
nor can ever hope for any favour. Yet this we often find to 
be the case, and even with men, who, on other occasions, 
discover no great generosity of spirit, nor are found to be 
easily transported by friendship beyond their own interest. 
We are apt to think the relation between us and our sove- 
reign very close and intimate. The splendour of majesty and 
power bestows an importance on the fortunes even of a 
single person. And when a man's good-nature does not 
give him this imaginary interest, his ill-nature will, from 
spite and opposition to persons whose sentiments are differ- 
ent from his own. 



Essay IX. Of the Parties of Great Britain. 

Were the British Government proposed as a subject of 
speculation, one would immediately perceive in it a source 
of division and party, which it would be almost impossible 
for it, under any administration, to avoid. The just balance 
between the republican and monarchical part of our con- 
stitution is really, in itself, so extremely delicate and uncer- 
tain, that, when joined to men's passions and prejudices, it is 
impossible but different opinions must arise concerning it, 
even among persons of the best understanding. Those of 



134 ESSAY IX. 

mild tempers, who love peace and order, and detest sedition 
and civil wars, will always entertain more favourable senti- 
ments of monarchy, than men of bold and generous spirits, 
who are passionate lovers of liberty, and think no evil com- 
parable to subjection and slavery. And though all reasonable 
men agree in general to preserve our mixed government ; 
yet, when they come to particulars, some will incline to trust 
greater powers to the crown, to bestow on it more influence, 
and to guard against its encroachments with less caution, 
than others who are terrified at the most distant approaches 
of tyranny and despotic power. Thus are there parties of 
Principle involved in the very nature of our constitution, 
which may properly enough be denominated those of Court 
and Country. 1 The strength and violence of each of these 
parties will much depend upon the particular administration. 
An administration may be so bad, as to throw a great 
majority into the opposition ; as a good administration will 
reconcile to the court many of the most passionate lovers of 
liberty. But however the nation may fluctuate between 
them, the parties themselves will always subsist, so long as 
we are governed by a limited monarchy. 

But, besides this difference of Principle, those parties are 
very much fomented by a difference of Interest, without 
which they could scarcely ever be dangerous or violent. The 
crown will naturally bestow all trust and power upon those, 
whose principles, real or pretended, are most favourable to 
monarchical government ; and this temptation will naturally 
engage them to go greater lengths than their principles 
would otherwise carry them. Their antagonists, who were 
disappointed in their ambitious aims, throw themselves into 
the party whose sentiments incline them to be most jealous 
of royal power, and naturally carry those sentiments to a 
I greater height than sound politics will justify. Thus Court 
I and Country, which are the genuine offspring of the British 

1 [Editions A to P add the following Populares ; and Cicero, like a true 

note : These words have become of gene- party man, defines the Optimates to be 

ral use, and therefore I shall employ such as, in all public conduct, regulated 

them, without intending to express by themselves by the sentiments of the 

them an universal blame of the one best and worthiest of the Romans : Pro 

party, or approbation of the other. The Sextio, cap. 45. The term of Countri/- 

court-party may, no doubt, on some party may afford a favourable definition 

occasions consult best the interest of or etymology of the same kind : But it 

the country, and the country-party would be folly to draw any argument 

oppose it. In like manner, the Roman from that head, and I have regard to it 

parties were denominated Optimates and in employing these terms.] 



TIIE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 135 

government, are a kind of mixed parties, and are influenced 
both by principle and by interest. The heads of the factions 
are commonly most governed by the latter motive ; the 
inferior members of them by the former. 1 

As to ecclesiastical parties ; we may observe, that, in all 
ages of the world, priests have been enemies to liberty ; 2 
and it is certain, that this steady conduct of theirs must 
have been founded on fixed reasons of interest and ambition. 
Liberty of thinking, and of expressing our thoughts, is 
always fatal to priestly power, and to those pious frauds, on 
which it is commonly founded ; and, by an infallible con- 
nexion, which prevails among all kinds of liberty, this privi- 
lege can never be enjoyed, at least has never yet been 
enjoyed, but in a free government. Hence it must happen,, 
in such a constitution as that of Great Britain, that thel 
established clergy, while things are in their natural situation,! 
will always be of the CWr-party; as, on the contrary,! 
dissenters of all kinds will be of the Country --party ; since 
they can never hope for that toleration, which they stand in 
need of, but by means of our free government. All princes, . 
that have aimed at despotic power, have known of what im- 
portance it was to gain the established clergy: As the 
clergy, on their part, have shewn a great facility on entering 
into the views of such princes. 3 Gustavus Vaza was, 
perhaps, the only ambitious monarch, that ever depressed 
the church, at the same time that he discouraged liberty. 
But the exorbitant power of the bishops in Sweden, who, at 
that time, overtopped the crown itself, together with their 
attachment to a foreign family, was the reason of his embrac- 
ing such an unusual system of politics. 

1 [Editions A to P add the following : great and principal opposers of the 
I must be understood to mean this of crown : But, at that time, their posses- 
persons who have motives for taking sions were so immensely great, that they 
party on any side. For, to tell the composed a considerable part of the 
truth, the greatest part are commonly proprietors of England, and in many 
men who associate themselves they contests were direct rivals of the 
know not why ; from example, from crown.] 

passion, from idleness. But still it is 3 Judsei sibi ipsi reges imposuere ; 

requisite, that there be some source of qui mobilitate vulgi expulsi, resumpta 

division, either in principle or interest ; per arma dominatione ; fugas civiura, 

otherwise such persons would not find urbium eversiones, fratrum, conjugum, 

parties, to which they could associate parentum neces, aliaque solita regibus 

themselves.] ausi, superstitionem fovebant ; quia 

2 [Editions B to P add the note : honor sacerdotii firmamentum potentiae 
This proposition is true, notwithstand- assumebatur. Tacit, hist., lib. v. 8. 
ing, that in the early times of the Eng- [This note was added in Edition K.] 
lish government, the clergy were the 



1 

* 



J- 



136 ESSAY IX. 

This observation, concerning the propensity of priests to 
the government of a single person, is not true with regard 
to one sect only. The Presbyterian and Calvinwtic clergy in 
Holland were professed friends to the family of Orange ; 
as the Arminians, who were esteemed heretics, were of the 
Louvestein faction, and zealous for liberty. But if a prince 
have the choice of both, it is easy to see, that he will prefer 
the episcopal to the presbyterian form of government, both 
because of the greater affinity between monarchy and epis- 
copacy, and because of the facility, which he will find, in 
such a government, of ruling the clergy, by means of their 
ecclesiastical superiors. 1 

If we consider the first rise of parties in England, during 
the great rebellion, we shall observe, that it was conformable 
to this general theory, and that the species of government 
gave birth to them, by a regular and infallible operation. 
The English constitution, before that period, had lain in a 
kind of confusion ; yet so, as that the subjects possessed 
many noble privileges, which, though not exactly bounded 
and secured by law, were universally deemed, from long pos- 
session, to belong to them as their birth-right. An ambitious, 
or rather a misguided, prince arose, who deemed all these 
privileges to be concessions of his predecessors, revokeable 
at pleasure ; and, in prosecution of this principle, he openly 
acted in violation of liberty, during the course of several 
years. Necessity, at last, constrained him to call a parlia- 

; ment: The spirit of liberty arose and spread itself: The 
prince, being without any support, was obliged to grant every 

| thing required of him : And his enemies, jealous and impla- 
cable, set no bounds t6 their pretensions. Here then began 
those contests, in which it was no wonder, that men of that 
age were divided into different parties ; since, even at this 
day, the impartial are at a loss to decide concerning the 
justice of the quarrel. The pretensions of the parliament, 
if yielded to, broke the balance of the constitution, by ren- 
dering the government almost entirely republican. If not 
yielded to, the nation was, perhaps, still in danger of absolute 
power, from the settled principles and inveterate habits of 
the king, which had plainly appeared in every concession 
that he had been constrained to make to his people. In this 

1 Populi impcrium juxta libertatem : proprior est. Tacit. Ann. lib.v\. 41. 
paucorum dominatio regise libidini [This note was added in Edition K.] 



THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 137 

question, so delicate and uncertain, men naturally fell to the 
side which was most conformable to their usual principles ; 
and the more passionate favourers of monarchy declared for 
the king, as the zealous friends of liberty sided with the par- 
liament. The hopes of success being nearly equal on both 
sides, interest had no general influence in this contest : So 
that Kound-head and Cavalier were merely parties of prin- 
ciples ; neither of which disowned either monarchy or liberty; 
but the former party inclined most to the republican part of 
our government, the latter to the monarchical. In this 
respect, they may be considered as court and country-party, 
enflamed into a civil war, by an unhappy concurrence of 
circumstances, and by the turbulent spirit of the age. The 
commonwealth's men, and the partizans of absolute power, lay ' 
concealed in both parties, and formed but an inconsiderable 
part of them. 

The clergy had concurred with the king's arbitrary designs ; 
and, in return, were allowed to persecute their adversaries, 
whom they called heretics and schismatics. The established 
clergy were episcopal ; the non-conformists presbyterian : So 
that all things concurred to throw the former, without re- 
serve, into the king's party ; and the latter into that of the 
parliament. 1 

Every one knows the event of this quarrel ; fatal to the 
king first, to the parliament afterwards. After many confu- 
sions and revolutions, the royal family was at last restored, 
and the ancient government re-established. Charles II. was 
not made wiser by the example of his father ; but prosecuted 
the same measures, though at first, with more secrecy and 
caution. New parties arose, under the appellation of Whig 
and Tory, which have continued ever since to confound and 
distract our government. To determine the nature of these 

1 [For this paragraph Editions and the latter into that of the parlia- 

A to P substitute the following: ment. The Cavaliers being the court- 

The clergy had concurred 2 with party, and the Bound-heads the country- 

the king's arbitrary designs, according party, the union was infallible between 

to their usual maxims in such cases : the former and the established prelacy, 

And, in return, were allowed to perse- and between the latter and presbyterian 

cute their adversaries, whom they called non-conformists. This union is so 

heretics and schismatics. The estab- natural, according to the general prin- 

lished clergy were episcopal ; the non- ciples of politics, that it requires some 

conformists presbyterian : So that all very extraordinary situation of affairs 

things concurred to throw the former, to break it.] 
without reserve, into\the king's party ; 



2 [In a shameless manner : A to K.] 



138 ESSAY IX. 

parties is, perhaps, one of the most difficult problems, that 
can be met with, and is a proof that history may contain 
questions, as uncertain as any to be found in the most ab- 
stract sciences. We have seen the conduct of the two parties, 
during the course of seventy years, in a vast variety of cir- 
cumstances, possessed of power, and deprived of it, during 
peace, and during war : Persons, who profess themselves of 
one side or other, we meet with every hour, in company, in our 
pleasures, in our serious occupations : We ourselves are con- 
strained, in a manner, to take party; and living in a country 
of the highest liberty, every one may openly declare all his 
sentiments and opinions; Yet are we at a loss to tell the 
nature, pretensions, and principles of the different factions. 1 

When we compare the parties of Whig and Tory with 
those of Bound-head and Cavalier, the most obvious dif- 
ference, that appears between them, consists in the principles 
of passive obedience, and in defeasi ble right, which were but 
little heard of among the Cavaliers, but became the univer- 
sal doctrine, and were esteemed the true characteristic of a 
Tory. Were these principles pushed into their most obvious 
consequences, they imply a formal renunciation of all our 
liberties, and an avowal of absolute monarchy; since nothing 
can be a greater absurdity than a limited power, which must 
not be resisted, even when it exceeds its limitations. But as 
the most rational principles are often but a weak counterpoise 
to passion; it is no wonder that these absurd principles 2 
were found too weak for that effect. The Tories, as men, 
were enemies to oppression ; and also as Englishmen, 
they were enemies to arbitrary power. Their zeal for liberty, 
was, perhaps, less fervent than that of their antagonists ; 
but was sufficient to make them forget all their general 
principles, when they saw themselves openly threatened with 
a subversion of the ancient government. From these senti- 
ments arose the revolution ; an event of mighty consequence, 
and the firmest foundation of British liberty. The conduct 
of the Tories, during that event, and after it, will afford us a 
true insight into the nature of that party. 

In the first place, they appear to have had the genuine 
sentiments of Britons in their affection for liberty, and in 

1 [Editions A to P add : The question according to a celebrated author, (Dis- 

18, perhaps, in itself, somewhat diffi- sertation on Parties, Letter 2d.) to ikotk 

cult ; but has been rendered more so, the common sense of a Hottentot or 

by the prejudice and violence of party.] Samoikdk.] 

[Editions A to P add: sufficient. 



THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 139 

their determined resolution not to sacrifice it to any abstract 
principle whatsoever, or to any imaginary rights of princes. 
This part of their character might justly have been doubted 
of before the revolution, from the obvious tendency of their 
avowed principles, and from their 1 compliances with a court, 
which seemed to make little secret of its arbitrary designs. 
The revolution shewed them to have been, in this respect, J 
nothing, but a genuine court-party, such as might be expected 
in a British government : That is, Lovers of liberty, but 
greater lovers of monarchy. It must, however, be confessed, 
that they carried their monarchical principles farther, even 
in practice, but more so in theory, than was, in any degree, 
consistent with a limited government. 

Secondly, Neither their principles nor affections concurred, 
entirely or heartily, with the settlement made at the revolu- 
tion, or with that which has since taken place. This part of 
their character may seem opposite to the former ; since any 
other settlement, in those circumstances of the nation, must 
probably have been dangerous, if not fatal to liberty. But 
the heart of man is made to reconcile contradictions : and 
this contradiction is not greater than that between passive 
obedience, and the resistance employed at the revolution. A 
Tort, therefore, since the revolution, may be defined in a 
few words, to be a lover of monarchy, though without abandon- 
ing liberty ; and a partizan of the family of Stuart. As a 
Whig may be defined to be a lover of liberty though without 
renouncing monarchy ; and a friend to the settlement in the 
Protestant line. 2 

These different views, with regard to the settlement of the 
crown, were accidental, but natural additions to the principles 

1 [Editions A to Kread : almost un- Man must have a great Opinion of his 
hounded compliances. M to Q: great own Eloquence to attempt the proving 
compliances.] of it. A and B.] 

2 [Editions A to P add the following I shall first mention, as a proof of a 
note : The author 1 above cited has real distinction between these parties, 
asserted, that the real distinction be- what every one may have observed 
twixt Whig and Tory was lost at the or heard concerning the conduct and 
revolution, and that ever since they have conversation of all his friends and ac- 
continued to be mere personal parties, quaintance on both sides. Have not 
like the Gtjelfs and Gibbexines, after the Tories always borne an avowed 
the emperors had lost all authority in affection to the family of Stuart, and 
Itaxy. Such an opinion, were it re- have not their adversaries always op- 
ceived, would turn our whole history posed with vigour the succession of 
into an senigma ; [and is, indeed, so con- that family ? 

trary to the strongest Evidence, that a The Tory principles are confessedly 



1 [Celebrated writer : A. B, and D.] 



140 ESSAY IX. 

of the court and country parties, which are the genuine 
divisions in the British government. A passionate lover of 
monarchy is apt to be displeased at any change of the succes- 
sion; as savouring too much of a commonwealth: A passionate 
lover of liberty is apt to think that every part of the govern- 
ment ought to be subordinate to the interests of liberty. 

Some, who will not venture to assert, that the real dif- 
ference between Whig and Tory was lost at the revolution, 
seem inclined to think, that the difference is now abolished, 
and that affairs are so far returned to their natural state, that 
there are at present no other parties among us but court and 
country ; that is, men, who, by interest or principle, are 
attached either to monarchy or liberty. The Tories have 
been so long obliged to talk in the republican stile, that they 
seem to have made converts of themselves by their hypocrisy, 
and to have embraced the sentiments, as well as language of 
their adversaries. There are, however, very considerable 
remains of that party in England, with all their old pre- 
judices ; and a proof that court and country are not our only 
parties, is, that almost all the dissenters side with the court, 
and the lower clergy, at least, of the church of England, 
with the opposition. This may convince us, that some biass 
still hangs upon our constitution, some extrinsic weight, 

the most favourable to monarchy. Yet from openly appearing, if it did not 
the Tories have almost always opposed openly appear, but prudence, and a 
the court these fifty years ; nor were sense of decency ? 
they cordial friends to King William, 'Tis monstrous to see an established 
even when employed by him. Their episcopal clergy in declared opposition 
quarrel, therefore, cannot be supposed to the court, and a non-conformist pres- 
to havo lain with the throne, but with byterian clergy in conjunction with it. 
the person who sat on it. What could have produced such an un- 

They concurred heartily with the natural conduct in both? Nothing, 

c*urt during the four last years of but that the former espoused monarchi- 

Queen Annk. But is any one at a loss cal principles too high for the present 

to find the reason ? settlement, which is founded on princi- 

1 The succession of the crown in the pies of liberty: And the latter, being 

British government is a point of too afraid of the prevalence of those high 

great consequence to be absolutely in- principles, adhered to that party from 

different to persons who concern them- whom they had reason to expect liberty 

selves, in any degree, about the fortune and toleration. 

of the public; much less can it be The different conduct of the two 

supposed that the Tort party, who parties, with regard to foreign politics, 

ever valued themselves upon modera- is also a proof to the same purpose, 

tion, could maintain a stoical indiffe- Holland has always been most fa- 

rence in a point of such impertance. voured by one, and France by the 

Were they, therefore, zealous for the other. In short, the proofs of this 

house of Hanovkr? Or was there kind seem so palpable and evident, that 

any thing that kept an opposite zeal 'tis almost needless to collect them.] 



[This paragraph is not in A and B.] 



THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 141 

which turns it from its natural course, and causes a confu- 
sion in our parties. 1 

[So the Essay concludes in Editions Q and R. In place of 
the last paragraph, the preceding Editions read as follows :] 

'Tis however remarkable, that tho' the principles of Whig 
and Tory were both of them of a compound nature ; yet the 
ingredients, which predominated in both, were not corre- 
spondent to each other. A Tory loved monarchy, and bore 
an affection to the family of Stuart ; but the latter affection 
was the predominant inclination of the party. A Whig 
loved liberty, and was a friend to the settlement in the Pro- 
testant line ; but the love of liberty was professedly his 
predominant inclination. The Tories have frequently acted 
as republicans, where either policy or revenge has engaged 
them to that conduct ; and there was no one of that party, 
who, upon the supposition, that he was to be disappointed in 
his views with regard to the succession, would not have 
desired to impose the strictest limitations on the crown, and 
to bring our form of government as near republican as pos- 
sible, in order to depress the family, which, according to his 
apprehension, succeeded without any just title. The Whigs, 
'tis true, have also taken steps dangerous to liberty, under 
colour of securing the succession and settlement of the crown, 
according to their views : But as the body of the party had 
no passion for that succession, otherwise than as the means 
of securing liberty, they have been betrayed into these steps 
by ignorance, or frailty, or the interests of their leaders. 
The succession of the crown was, therefore, the chief point 
with the Tories ; the security of our liberties with the 
Whigs. 2 Nor is this seeming irregularity at all difficult to 
be accounted for, by our present theory. Court and country 
parties are the true parents of Tory and Whig. But 'tis 
almost impossible, that the attachment of ttte court party to 
monarchy should not degenerate into an attachment to the 
monarch ; there being so close a connexion between them, 
and the latter being so much the more natural object. How 
easily does the worship of the divinity degenerate into a 

1 Some of the opinions delivered in ment by his own preconceived opinions 
these Essays, with regard to the public and principles ; nor is he ashamed to 
transactions in the last century, the acknowledge his mistakes. These mis- 
Author, on more accurate examination, takes were indeed, at that time, almost 
found reason to retract in his History of universal in this kingdom. 
Great Britain. And as he would not 2 [The remainder of this paragraph is 
enslave himself to the systems of either not in A and B.J 
party, neither would he fetter his judg- 



142 ESSAY EX. 

worship of "the idol ? The connexion is not so great between 
liberty, the divinity of the old country party or Whigs, and 
any monarch or royal family ; nor is it so reasonable to sup- 
pose, that in that party, the worship can be so easily trans- 
ferred from the one to the other. Tho' even that would be 
no great miracle. 

'Tis difficult to penetrate into the thoughts and sentiments 
of any particular man ; but 'tis almost impossible to dis- 
tinguish those of a whole party, where it often happens, that 
no two persons agree precisely in the same maxims of conduct. 
Yet I will venture to affirm, that it was not so much prin- 
ciple, or an opinion of indefeasible right, which attached 
the Tories to the ancient royal family, as affection, or a 
certain love and esteem for their persons. The same cause 
divided England formerly between the houses of York and 
Lancaster, and Scotland between the families of Bruce 
and Baliol ; in an age, when political disputes were but 
little in fashion, and when political principles must of course 
have had but little influence on mankind. The doctrine of 
t passive obedience is so absurd in itself, and so opposite to 
1 our liberties, that it seems to have been chiefly left to pulpit- 
\ declaimers, and to their deluded followers among the vulgar. 
Men of better sense were guided by affection \ and as v to the ' 
leaders of this party, 'tis probable, that interest was their 
chief motive, and that they acted more contrary to their 
private sentiments, than the leaders of the opposite party. 
1 Tho' 'tis almost impossible to maintain with zeal the rignT 
of any person or family, without acquiring a good-will to 
them, and changing the principle into affection ; yet this is 
less natural to people of an elevated station and liberal edu- 
cation, who have had full opportunity bf observing the 
weakness, folly, and arrogance of monarchs, and have found 
them to be nothing superior, if not rather inferior to the rest 
of mankind. The interest, therefore, of being heads of a party 
does often, with such people, supply the place both of prin- 
ciple and affection. 

Some, who will not venture to assert, that the real differ- 
ence between Whig and Tort was lost at the revolution, 
seem inclined to think, that the difference is now abolished, 
and that affairs are so far returned to their natural state, 
that there are at present no other parties amongst us but 

1 [The remainder of this paragraph is not in A and B.] ' 



THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 14a 

court and country ; that is, men, who by interest or principle, 
are attached either to monarchy or to liberty. It must, 
indeed, be confest, that the Tory party seem, -of late, to have 
decayed much in their numbers ; still more in their zeal ; 
and I may venture to say, still more in their credit and 
authority. There are few men of knowledge or learning, 
at least, few philosophers, since* Mr. Locke has wrote, who 
would not be ashamed to be thought of that party ; and in 
almost all companies the name of Old Whig is mentioned 
as an uncontestable appellation of honour and dignity. / 
Accordingly, the enemies of the ministry, as a reproach, 
call the courtiers the true Tories ; and as an honour, de- 
nominate the gentlemen* in the opposition the true Whigs. 1 
The Tories have been so long obliged to talk in the repub- 
lican stile, that they seem to have made converts of them- 
selves by their hypocrisy, and to have embraced the 
sentiments, as well as language of their adversaries. There 
are, however, very considerable remains of that party in 
England, with all their old prejudices; and a proof that 
court and country are not our only parties, is, that almost all 
the dissenters side with the court, and the lower clergy, at 
least, of the church of England, with the opposition. This 
may convince us, that some biass still hangs upon our consti- 
tution, some intrinsic weight, which turns it from its natural 
course, and causes a confusion in our parties. 2 . 

I shall conclude this subject with observing that we never/ 
had any Tories in Scotland, according to the proper signi-( 
fication of the word, and that the division of parties in thijs 
country was really into Whigs and Jacobites. A Jacobite 
seems to be a Tort, who has no regard to the constitution, 
but is either a zealous partizan of absolute monarchy, or at 
least willing to sacrifice our liberties to the obtaining the 
succession in that family to which he is attached. The reason 
of the difference between England and Scotland, I take to 
be this : Political and religious divisions in the latter country, 
have been, since the revolution, regularly correspondent to 
each other. The Presbyterians were all Whigs without 
exception : Those who favoured episcopacy, of the opposite 
party. And as the clergy of the latter sect were turned out 
of the churches at the revolution, they had no motive for 

1 [The last two sentences were omitting ' at least -wrote.'] 
omitted in P. A and B -read no man, - [This sentence does not occur in A.] 



144 ESSAY X. 

making any compliances with the government in their oaths, 
or their forms of prayers, but openly avowed the highest 
principles of their party ; which is the cause why their fol- 
lowers have been more violent than their brethren of the 
Tory party in England. 1 



Essay X. Of Superstition and Ejithusiasm. 

That the corruption of the best things produces the worst, is 
grown into a maxim, and is commonly proved, among other 
instances, by~ the pernicious effects of superstition and enthu- 
siasm, the corruptions of true religion. 

These two species of false religion, though both pernicious, 
are yet of a very different, and even of a contrary nature. 
The mind of man is subject to certain unaccountable terrors 
and apprehensions, proceeding either from the unhappy 
situation of private or public affairs, from ill health, from 
a gloomy and melancholy disposition, or from the con- 
currence of all these circumstances. In such a state of 
mind, infinite unknown evils are dreaded from unknown 
agents ; and where real objects of terror are wanting, the 
soul, active to its own prejudice, and fostering its predomi- 
nant inclination, finds imaginary ones, to whose power and 
malevolence it sets no limits. As these enemies are entirely 

1 Some of the opinions, delivered in not enslave himself to the systems of 

these Essays, with regard to the public either party, neither would he fetter 

transactions in the last century, the his judgment by his own preconceived 

Author, on more accurate examination, opinions and principles; nor is he 

found reason to retract in his History ashamed to acknowledge his mistakes. 1 
of Great .Britain. And as he would 



1 [This note does not occur in any have some Fortune and Education, and 
edition prior to M. A and B add the the meanest slaving Poor ; without any 
following paragraph to the text : As considerable Number of that middling 
violent Things have not commonly so Rank of Men, which abounds more in 
long a Duration as moderate, we England, both in Cities and in the 
actually find, that the Jacobite Party is Country, than in any other Part of the 
almost entirely vanish'd from among World. The slaving Poor are incapa- 
us, and that the Distinction of Court ble of any Principles: Gentlemen may 
and Country, which is but creeping in be converted to true Principles, by 
at London, is the only one that is ever Time and Experience. The middling 
mention'd in this kingdom. Beside the Rank of Men have Curiosity and Know- 
Violence and Openness of tho Jacobite ledge enough to form Principles, but 
party, another Reason has, perhaps, not enough to form true ones, or correct 
contributed to produce so sudden and any Prejudices that they may have 
so visible an Alteration in this part of imbib'd : And 'tis among the middling 
Britain. There are only two Ranks Rank, that Tory Principles do at pro- 
of Men among us; Gentlemen, who sent prevail most in England.] 



OP SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 145 

invisible and unknown, the methods taken to appease them 
are equally unaccountable, and consist in ceremonies, obser- 
vances, mortifications, sacrifices, presents, or in any practice, 
however absurd or frivolous, which either folly or knavery 
recommends to a blind and terrified credulity. Weakness, 
fear, melancholy, together with ignorance, are, therefore, the 
true sources of Superstition. 

But the mind of man is also subject to an unaccountable 
elevation and presumption, arising from prosperous success, 
from luxuriant health, from strong spirits, or from a bold 
and confident disposition. In such a state of mind, the 
imagination swells with great, but confused conceptions, to 
which no sublunary beauties or enjoyments can correspond. 
Every thing mortal and perishable vanishes as unworthy of 
attention. And a full range is given to the fancy in the in- 
visible regions or world of spirits, where the soul is at liberty 
to indulge itself in every imagination, which may best suit 
its present taste and disposition. Hence arise raptures, 
transports, and surprising flights of fancy; and confidence 
and presumption still encreasing, these raptures, being alto- 
gether unaccountable, and seeming quite beyond the reach 
of our ordinary faculties, are attributed to the immediate 
inspiration of that Divine Being, who is the object of devo- 
tion. In a little time, the inspired person comes to regard 
himself as a distinguished favourite of the Divinity; and 
when this frenzy once takes place, which is the summit of 
enthusiasm, every whimsy is consecrated : Human reason, 
and even morality are rejected as fallacious guides: And 
the fanatic madman delivers himself over, blindly, and with- 
out reserve, to the supposed illapses of the spirit, and to in- 
spiration from above. Hope, pride, presumption, a warm 1 
imagination, together with ignorance, are, therefore, the true 
sources of Enthusiasm. 

These two species of false religion might afford occasion to 
many speculations ; but I shall confine myself, at present, 
to a few reflections concerning their different influence on 
government and society. 

1 My first reflection is, That superstition is favourable to j 

1 [In Editions A and B, this and the and violent than those which partake of 

three next paragraphs were written as Superstition ; but in a little Time be- 

follows : My first Eeflection is, that He- come much more gentle and moderate, 

ligions, which partake of Enthusiasm are, The Violence of this Species of Religion, 

on their first Rise, much more furious when excited by Novelty, and animated 

VOL. III. L 



146 



ESSAY X. 



\ priestly power, and enthusiasm not less or rather more contrary 
\to it, than sound reason and philosophy. As superstition is 
founded on fear, sorrow, and a depression of spirits, it re- 
presents the man to himself in such despicable colours, that 



by Opposition, appears from numberless 
Instances : of the Anabaptists in Ger- 
many, the Camisars in France, the Le- 
vellers and other Fanaticks in England, 
and the Covenanters in Scotland. As 
' Enthusiasm is founded on strong Spirits 
and a presumptuous Boldness of Cha- 
racter, it naturally begets the most ex- 
treme Resolutions ; especially after it 
rises to that Height as to inspire the 
deluded Fanaticks with the Opinion of 
Divine Illuminations, and with a Con- 
tempt of the common Rules of Reason, 
Morality and Prudence. 

Tis thus Enthusiasm produces the 
most cruel Desolation in human Society : 
But its Fury is like that of Thunder 
and Tempest, which exhaust themselves 
in a little Time, and leave the Air more 
calm and serene; than before. The Rea- 
son of this will appear evidently, by 
comparing Enthusiasm to Superstition, 
the other Species of false Religion ; and 
tracing the natural Consequences of 
each. As Superstition is founded on 
Fear, Sorrow, and a Depression of 
Spirits, it represents the Person to him- 
self in such despicable Colours, that he 
appears unworthy, in his own Eyes, of 
approaching the Divine Presence, and 
naturally has Recourse to any other 
Person, whose Sanctity of Life, or, per- 
haps, Impudence and Cunning, have 
made him be supposed to be more 
favoured by the Divinity. To him they 
entrust their Devotions : To his Care 
they recommend their Prayers, Petition*, 
and Sacrifices : And, by his Means, hope 
to render their Addresses acceptable to 
their incensed Deity. Hence the Origin 
of Priests, 1 who may justly be regarded 
as one of the grossest Inventions of a 
timorous and abject Superstition, which, 
ever diffident of itself, dares not offer 
up its own Devotions, but ignorantly 
thinks to recommend itself to the Di- 
vinity, by the Mediation of 'his supposed 



Friends and Servants. As Superstition 
is a considerable Ingredient of almost 
all Religions, even the most fanatical ; 
there being nothing but Philosophy able 
to conquer entirely these unaccountable 
Terrors ; hence it proceeds, that in al- 
most every Sect of Religion there are 
Priests to be found : But the stronger 
Mixture there is of Superstition, the 
higher is the Authority of the Priesthood. 
Modern Judaism and Popery, especially 
the latter, being the most barbarous and 
absurd Superstitions that have yet been 
known in the World, are the most en- 
slav'd by their Priests. As the Church 
of England may justly be said to retain 
a strong Mixture of Popish Superstition, 
it partakes also, in its original Consti- 
tution, of a Propensity to Priestly Power 
and Dominion ; particularly in the Re- 
spect it exacts to the Priest. And 
though, according to the Sentiments of 
that Church, the Prayers of the Priest 
must be accompanied with those of the 
Laity ; yet is he the mouth of the Con- 
gregation, his Person is sacred, and 
without his Presence few would think 
their public Devotions, or the Sacra- 
ments, and other Rites, acceptable to 
the Divinity. 

On the other Hand, it may be ob- 
served, That all Enthusiasts have been 
free from the Yoke of Ecclesiastics, and 
have exprest a great Independence in 
their Devotion ; with a contempt of 
Forms, Tradition and Authorities. The 
Quakers are the most egregious, tho\ at 
the same Time, the most innocent, En- 
thusiasts that have been yet known ; 
and are, perhaps, the only Sect, that 
have never admitted Priests among 
them. The Independents, of all the 
English Sectaries, approach nearest 
to the Quakers in Fanaticism, and in 
their Freedom from Priestly Bondage. 
The Presbyterians follow after, at an 
equal Distance in both these Particulars. 



1 [By Priests I understand only the 
Pretenders to Power and Dominion, 
and to a superior Sanctity of Character, 
distinct from Virtue and good Morals. 
These are very different from Clergymen, 



who are set apart ( 2 by the Laws) to the 
care of sacred Matters, and the conduct- 
ing our public Devotions with greater 
Decency and.Order. There is no Bank oi 

Men more to be respected than the In 1 1 it. ] 



a [Added in Edition B.] 



OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 



147 



he appears unworthy, in his own eyes, of approaching the 
divine presence, and naturally has recourse to any other 
person, whose sanctity of life, or, perhaps, impudence and 
cunning, have made him be supposed more favoured by the 
Divinity. To him the superstitious entrust their devotions : 
To his care they recommend their prayers, petitions, and 
sacrifices : And by his means, they hope to render their 
addresses acceptable to their incensed Deity. Hence the 
origin of Priests, 1 who may justly be regarded 2 as an in- 
vention of a timorous and abject superstition, which, ever 
diffident of itself, dares not offer up its own devotions, but 
ignorantly thinks to recommend itself to the Divinity, by 
the mediation of his supposed friends and servants. As 
superstition is a considerable ingredient in almost all reli- 
gions, even the most fanatical; there being nothing but 
philosophy able entirely to conquer these unaccountable 
terrors ; hence it proceeds, that in almost every sect of 
religion there are priests to be found : But the stronger mix- 



in short, this Observation is founded on 
the most certain Experience ; and will 
also appear to be founded on Reason, if 
we consider, that as Enthusiasm arises 
from a presumptuous Pride and Confi- 
dence, it thinks itself sufficiently 
qualified to approach the Divinity with- 
out any human Mediator. Its rapturous 
Devotions are so fervent, that it even 
imagines itself actually to approach him 
by the Way of Contemplation and in- 
ward Converse ; which makes it neglect 
all those outward Ceremonies and Ob- 
servances, to which the Assistance of 
the Priests appears so requisite in the 
Eyes of their superstitious Votaries. 
The Fanatick consecrates himself, and 
bestows on his own Person a sacred 
Character, much superior to what Forms 
and ceremonious Institutions can confer 
on any other. 

'Tis therefore an infallible Rule, That 
Superstition is favourable to Priestly 
Power, and Enthusiasm as much, or 
rather more, contrary to it than sound 
Reason and Philosophy. The Conse- 
quences are evident. When the first 
Fire of Enthusiasm is spent, Men natu- 
rally, in such fanatical Sects, sink into 
the greatest Remissness and Coolness in 
Sacred Matters ; there being no Body of 
Men amongst them, endow'd with suffi- 
cient Authority, whose Interest is con- 
cerned, to support the religious Spirit. 



Superstition, on the contrary, steals in 
gradually and insensibly ; renders Men 
tame and submissive ; is acoeptable to 
the Magistrate, and seems inoffensive to 
the People : Till at last the Priest, 
having firmly establish'd his Authority, 
becomes the Tyrant and Disturber of hu- 
man Society, by his endless Contentions, 
Persecutions, and religious Wars. How 
smoothly did the Romish Church ad- 
vance in their Acquisition of Power? 
But into what dismal Convulsions did 
they throw all Europe, in order to main- 
tain it ? On the other Hand, our Sec- 
taries, who were formerly such danger- 
ous Bigots, are now become our greatest 
Free-thinkers; and the Quakers are, 
perhaps, the only regular Body of Deists 
in the Universe, except the Literati or 
Disciples of Confucius in China.] 

1 [The following note is appended in 
Editions D to N : By Priests, I here 
mean only the pretenders to power and 
dominion, and to a superior sanctity of 
character, distinct from virtue and 
good morals. These are very different 
from clergymen, who are set apart by 
the laws, to the care of sacred matters, 
and to the conducting our public devo- 
tions with greater decency and order. 
There is no rank of men more to be 
respected than the latter.] 

2 [As one of the grossest inventions. 
D to N.] 



l 2 



148 ESSAY X. 

ture there is of superstition, the higher is the authority of 
the priesthood. 1 

On the other hand, it may be observed, that all enthusiasts 
have been free from the yoke of ecclesiastics, and have ex- 
pressed great independence in their devotion ; with a contempt 
of forms, ceremonies, and traditions. The quakers are the 
most egregious, though, at the same time, the most innocent 
enthusiasts that have yet been known ; and are, perhaps, the 
only sect, that have never admitted priests amongst them. 
The independents, of all the English sectaries, approach 
nearest to the quakers in fanaticism, and in their freedom 
from priestly bondage. The presbyterians follow after, at an 
equal distance in both particulars. In short this observation 
is founded in experience ; and will also appear to be founded 
in reason, if we consider, that, as enthusiasm arises from a 
presumptuous pride and confidence, it thinks itself sufficiently 
qualified to approach the Divinity, without any human medi- 
ator. Its rapturous devotions are so fervent, that it even 
imagines itself actually to approach him by the way of con- 
templation and inward converse ; which makes it neglect all 
those outward ceremonies and observances, to which the 
assistance of the priests appears so requisite in the eyes of 
their superstitious votaries. The fanatic consecrates himself, 
and bestows on his own person a sacred character, much 
superior to what forms and ceremonious institutions can 
confer on any other. 

My second reflection with regard to these species of false 
religion is, that religions, which partake of enthusiasm are, on 
their first rise, more furious and violent than those which par- 
take of superstition ; but in a little time become more gentle and 
moderate. The violence of this species of religion, when ex- 
cited by novelty, and animated by opposition, appears from 
numberless instances; of the anabaptists in Germany, the 
camisars in France, the levellers and other fanatics in Eng- 

1 [Here D to P add : Modern cularly in the respect it exacts to the 

Judaism and popery, (especially the sacerdotal character. And though. 

latter) being the most unphilosophical according to the sentiments of that 

and absurd superstitions which have Church, the prayers of the priest must 

yet been known in the world, are the be accompanied with those of the laity ; 

most enslaved by their priests. As the yet is he the mouth of the congrega- 

church of England may justly be said tion, his person is sacred, and without 

to retain some mixture of Popish his presence few would think tluir 

superstition, it partakes also, in its public devotions, or the sacrament; B, 

original constitution, of a propensity and other rites, acceptable to the di- 

to priestly power and dominion ; parti- vinity.] 



OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 149 

land, and the covenanters in Scotland. Enthusiasm being 
founded on strong spirits, and a presumptuous boldness of 
character, it naturally begets the most extreme resolutions ; 
especially after it rises to that height as to inspire the 
deluded fanatic with the opinion of divine illuminations, and 
with a contempt for the common rules of reason, morality, 
and prudence. 

It is thus enthusiasm produces the most cruel disorders 
in human society ; but its fury is like that of thunder and 
tempest, which exhaust themselves in a little time, and leave 
the air more calm and pure than before. When the first lire 
of enthusiasm is spent, men naturally, in all fanatical sects, 
sink into the greatest remissness and coolness in sacred 
matters ; there being no body of men among them, endowed 
with sufficient authority, whose interest is concerned to 
support the religious spirit : No rites, no ceremonies, no 
holy observances, which may enter into the common train of 
life, and preserve the sacred principles from oblivion. Super- 
stition, on the contrary, steals in gradually and insensibly ; 
renders men tame and submissive ; is acceptable to the magis- 
trate, and seems inoffensive to the people : Till at last the 
priest, having firmly established his authority, becomes the 
tyrant and disturber of human society, by his endless con- 
tentions, persecutions, and religious wars. How smoothly 
did the Eomish church advance in her acquisition of power ? 
But into what dismal convulsions did she throw all Eueope, 
in order to maintain it ? On the other hand, our sectaries, 
who were formerly such dangerous bigots, are now become 
very free reasoners ; and the Quakers seem to approach nearly 
the only regular body of deists in the universe, the literati, or 
the disciples of Confucius in China. 1 

My third observation on this head is, that superstition is an I 
enemy to civil liberty, and enthusiasm a friend to it. As [ 
superstition groans under the dominion of priests, and en- 
thusiasm is destructive of all ecclesiastical power, this 
sufficiently accounts for the present observation. Not to 
mention, that enthusiasm, being the infirmity of bold and 
ambitious tempers, is naturally accompanied with a spirit of 
liberty ; as superstition, on the contrary, renders men tame 

1 The Chinese Literati have no to approach nearly the only regular, 

priests or ecclesiastical establishment. body of deists in the universe, the literati, 

This note is not in D and K, which or the disciples of Confucius in China? 
read in the text : and the quakers seem 



150 ESSAY X. 

and abject, and fits tliein for slavery. We learn from Eng- 
lish history, that, during the civil wars, the independents and 
deists, though the most opposite in their religious principles ; 
yet were united in their political ones, and were alike 
passionate for a commonwealth. And since the origin of 
whig and tory, the leaders of the whigs have either been 
deists or profest latitudinarians in their principles ; that is, 
friends to toleration, and indifferent to any particular se^fc of 
christians : While the sectaries, who have all a strong 
tincture of enthusiasm, have always, without exception, 
concurred with that party, in defence of civil liberty. The 
resemblance in their superstitions long united the high- 
church tories, and the Roman catholics, in support of preroga- 
tive and kingly power; though experience of the tolerating 
spirit of the whigs seems of late to have reconciled the 
catholics to that party. 

The molinists and jansenists in France have a thousand 
unintelligible disputes, which are not worthy the reflection 
of a man of sense : But what principally distinguishes these 
two sects, and alone merits attention, is the different spirit 
of their religion. The molinists conducted by the Jesuits, are 
great friends to superstition, rigid observers of external 
forms and ceremonies, and devoted to the authority of the 
priests, and to tradition. The jansenists are enthusiasts, and 
zealous promoters of the passionate devotion, and of the 
inward life ; little influenced by authority ; and, in a word, 
but half catholics. The consequences are exactly conform- 
able to the foregoing reasoning. The Jesuits are the tyrants 
of the people, and the slaves of the court : And the jansenists 
preserve alive the small sparks of the love of liberty, which 
are to be found in the French nation. 



Essay XI. Of the Dignity or Meanness of Human Nature. 1 

There are certain sects, which secretly form themselves in 
the learned world, as well as factions in the political ; and 
though sometimes they come not to an open rupture, they 
give a different turn to the ways of thinking of those who 
have taken part on either side. The most remarkable of this 
kind are the sects, founded on the different sentiments with 

1 [All the Editions from A to P are headed : Of the Dignity of Human Nature.] 



DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 151 

regard to the dignity of human nature ; which is a point that 
seems to have divided philosophers and poets, as well as 
divines, from the beginning of the world to this day. Some 
exalt our species to the skies, and represent man as a kind of 
human demigod, who derives his origin from heaven, and re- 
tains evident marks of his lineage and descent. Others insist 
upon the blind sides of human nature, and can discover 
nothing, except vanity, in which man surpasses the othei 
animals, whom he affects so much to despise. If an author 
possess the talent of rhetoric and declamation, he commonly 
takes part with the former : If his turn lie towards irony 
and ridicule, he naturally throws himself into the other 
extreme. 

I am far from thinking, that all those, who have depreciated 
our species, have been enemies to virtue, and have exposed 
the frailties of their fellow creatures with any bad intention. 
On the contrary, I am sensible that a delicate sense of morals, 
especially when attended with a splenetic temper, 1 is apt to 
give a man a disgust of the world, and to make him consider 
the common course of human affairs with too much indigna- 
tion. I must, however, be of opinion, that the sentiments of 
those, who are inclined to think favourably of mankind, are 
more advantageous to virtue, than the contrary principles, 
which give us a mean opinion of our nature. When a man is 
prepossessed with a high notion of his rank and character in 
the creation, he will naturally endeavour to act up to it, and 
will scorn to do a base or vicious action, which might sink 
him below that figure which he makes in his own imagina- 
tion. Accordingly we find, that all our polite and fashionable 
moralists insist upon this topic, and endeavour to represent 
vice as unworthy of man, as well as odious in itself. 2 

We find few disputes, that are not founded on some am- 
biguity in the expression; and I am persuaded, that the present 
dispute, concerning the dignity or meanness of human nature, 
is not more exempt from it than any other. It may, therefore, 
be worth while to consider, what ?s real, and what is only 
verbal, in this controversy. 

1 [Editions A to P read : especially which may proceed from this reason, 
when attended with somewhat of the among others, that their chief point of 
Misanthrope.] honour is considered as much more 

2 [Editions A to P add the following : difficult than ours, and requires to be- 
Women are generally much more supported by all that decent pride, 
flattered in their youth than men; which can be instilled into them.} 



152 ESSAY XL 

That there is a natural difference between merit and 
demerit, virtue and vice, wisdom and folly, no reasonable 
man will deny : Yet is it evident, that in affixing the term, 
which denotes either our approbation or blame, we are com- 
monly more influenced by comparison than by any fixed 
unalterable standard in the nature of things. In like manner, 
quantity, and extension, and bulk, are by every one acknow- 
ledged to be real things : But when we call any animal great 
or little, we always form a secret comparison between that 
animal and others of the same species ; and it is that compa- 
rison which regulates our judgment concerning its greatness. 
A dog and a horse may be of the very same size, while the 
one is admired for the greatness of its bulk, and the other 
for the smallness. When I am present, therefore, at any 
dispute, I always consider with myself, whether it be a ques- 
tion of comparison or not that is the subject of the contro- 
versy ; and if it be, whether the disputants compare the 
same objects together, or talk of things that are widely 
different. 1 

In forming our notions of human nature, we are apt to 
make a comparison between men and animals, the only 
creatures endowed with thought that fall under our senses. 
Certainly this comparison is favourable to mankind. On the 
one hand, we see a creature, whose thoughts are not limited 
by any narrow bounds, either of place or time ; who carries 
his researches into the most distant regions of this globe, and 
beyond this globe, to the planets and heavenly bodies ; looks 
backward to consider the first origin, at least, the history of 
human race ; casts his eye forward to see the influence of his 
actions upon posterity, and the judgments which will be 
formed of his character a thousand years hence ; a creature, 
who traces causes and effects to a great length and intricacy ; 
extracts general principles from particular appearances ; im- 
proves upon his discoveries ; corrects his mistakes ; and 
makes his very errors profitable. On the other hand, we are 
presented with a creature the very reverse of this ; limited in 
its observations and reasonings to a few sensible objects 
which surround it; without curiosity, without foresight; 
blindly conducted by instinct, and attaining, in a short time, 

1 [Editions A to P add : As the manifest abuses of leisure, the most 
latter is commonly the case, I have long valuable present that could be made to 
inee learnt to neglect such disputes as mortals.] 



DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 15:3 

its utmost perfection, beyond which it is never able to advance 
a single step. What a wide difference is there between 
these creatures ! And how exalted a notion must we enter- 
tain of the former, in comparison of the latter ! 

There are two means commonly employed to destroy this 
conclusion : First, By making an unfair representation of 
the case, and insisting only upon the weaknesses of human 
nature. And secondly, By forming a new and secret com- 
parison between man and beings of the most perfect wisdom. 
Among the other excellencies of man, this is one, that he can 
form an idea of perfections much beyond what he has expe- 
rience of in himself; and is not limited in his conception of 
wisdom and virtue. He can easily exalt his notions and 
conceive a degree of knowledge, which, when compared to 
his own, will make the latter appear very contemptible, and 
will cause the difference between that and the sagacity of 
animals, in a manner, to disappear and vanish. Now this 
being a point, in which all the world is agreed, that human 
understanding falls infinitely short of perfect wisdom ; it is 
proper we should know when this comparison takes place, 
that we may not dispute where there is no real difference in 
our sentiments. Man falls much more short of perfect wis- 
dom, and even of his own ideas of perfect wisdom, than 
animals do of man; yet the latter difference is so considerable, 
that nothing but a comparison with the former can make it 
appear of little moment. 

It is also usual to compare one man with another ; and 
finding very few whom we can call wise or virtuous, we are 
apt to entertain a contemptible notion of our species in 
general. That we may be sensible of the fallacy of this way 
of reasoning, we may observe, that the honourable appella- 
tions of wise and virtuous, are not annexed to any particular 
degree of those qualities of wisdom and virtue', but arise 
altogether from the comparison we make between one man 
and another. When we find a man, who arrives at such a 
pitch of wisdom as is very uncommon, we pronounce him 
a wise man : So that to say, there are few wise men in the 
world, is really to say nothing ; since it is only by their 
scarcity, that they merit that appellation. Were the lowest 
of our species as wise as Tully, or lord Bacon, we should 
still have reason to say, that there are few wise men. For in 
that case we should exalt our notions of wisdom, and should 



154 ESSAY XI. 

not pay a singular honour to any one, who was not singularly 
distinguished by his talents. In like manner, I have heard 
it observed by thoughtless people, that there are few women 
possessed of beauty, in comparison of those who want it ; not 
considering, that we bestow the epithet of beautiful only on 
such as possess a degree of beauty, that is common to them 
with a few. The same degree of beauty in a woman is 
sailed deformity, which is treated as real beauty in one of 
our sex. 

As it is usual, in forming a notion of our species, to com- 
pare it with the other species above or below it, or to compare 
the individuals 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 concern- 
ing 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. 

1 There is much of a dispute of words in all this controversy. 
When a man denies the sincerity of all public spirit or affec- 
tion to a country and community, I am at a loss what to think 
of him. Perhaps he never felt this in so clear and distinct a 
manner as to remove all his doubts concerning its force and 
reality. But when he proceeds afterwards to reject all private 
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 anger as he pretends to be to friendship ? And 
does injury and wrong no more affect him than kindness or 
benefits ? Impossible : He does not know himself : He has 
forgotten the movements of his heart ; or rather he makes 

1 [This paragraph does not occur in the most powerful of any, and that even 

Editions A to D, which read instead of all the other Passions receive from t hen 

it : I may, perhaps, treat more fully of their chief Force and Influence. Who- 

this Subject in some future Essay. In ever desires to see this Question treated 

the mean Time, I shall observe, what at large, with the greatest Force of 

has been prov'd beyond Question by Argument and Eloquence, may consult 

several groat Moralists of the present my Lord Shaftsmjky's Enquiry con- 

.Age, that the social Passions are by far cerning Virtue.] 



DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 155 

use of a different language 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 con- 
nexion with yourself: Were the idea of self removed, nothing 
would affect you: You would be altogether un active and 
insensible : Or, if you ever gave yourself any movement, it 
would only be from vanity, and a desire of fame and reputa- 
tion to this same self. I am willing, reply I, to receive your 
interpretation of human actions, provided you admit the 
facts. That species of self-love, which 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 rela- 
tions, do not spend more on the maintenance and education 
of these than on their own pleasures ? This, indeed, you justly 
observe, may proceed from their self-love, since the prosperity 
of their family and friends is one, or the chief of their 
pleasures, as well as their chief honour. Be you also one of 
these 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 selfish- 
ness 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. I 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 there- 
fore 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 de- 



15G ESSAY XII. 

I predate 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 seem- 
ingly virtuous action, it is difficult for us to determine how 
far it enters, and it is natural to suppose it the sole actuating 
principle. But vanity is so closely allied to virtue, and to 
love the fame of laudable actions approaches so near the love 
of laudable actions for their own sake, that these passions 
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 particular taste or disposition of the mind on which it 
falls. Nero had the same vanity in driving a chariot, that 
Trajan had in governing the empire with justice and ability. 

I To love the glory of virtuous deeds is a sure proof of the love 

' of virtue. 

Essay XII. Of Civil Liberty. 1 

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 them- 
selves to the study of it. I am apt, however, to entertain a 
suspicion, that the world is still too young to fix many 
general truths in politics, which will remain true to the 
latest posterity. We have not as yet had experience of three 
thousand years ; so that not only the art of reasoning is still 
imperfect in this science, as in all others, but we even want 
sufficient materials upon which we can reason. It is not 
fully known, what degree of refinement, either in virtue or 
vice, human nature is susceptible of; nor what may be ex- 
pected 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 tyrannical governments of ancient times, or to the little 
disorderly principalities of Italy, his reasonings especially 
upon monarchical government, have been found extremely 
defective ; and there scarcely is any maxim in his prince, 
which subsequent experience has not entirely refuted. A 
weak prince, says he, is incapable of receiving good counsel; 

1 [Editions A to K have the title : Of Lil>erty and Despotism.] 



OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 157 

for if he consult with several, he will not be able to choose among 
their different counsels. If he abandon himself to one, that 
minister may, perhaps, have capacity ; but he will not long be 
a minister : He will be sure to dispossess his master, and place 
himself and his family upon the throne. I mention this, among 
many instances of the errors of that politician, proceeding, 
in a great measure, from his having lived in too early an age 
of the world, to be a good judge of political truth. Almost 
all the princes of Europe are at present governed by their 
ministers ; and have been so for near two centuries ; and yet 
no such event has ever happened, or can possibly happen. 
Sejanus might project dethroning the (Iesars ; but Fleury, 
though ever so vicious, could not, while in his senses, enter- 
tain the least hopes of dispossessing the Bourbons. 

Trade was never esteemed an affair of state till the last 
century ; and there scarcely is any ancient writer on politics, 
who has made mention of it. 1 Even the Italians have kept 
a profound silence with regard to it, though it has now en- 
gaged the chief attention, as well of ministers of state, as of 
speculative reasoners. The great opulence, grandeur, and 
military atchievements of the two maritime powers seem first 
to have instructed mankind in the importance of an extensive 
commerce. 

Having, therefore, intended in this essay to make a full 
comparison of civil liberty and absolute government, and to 
show 2 the great advantages of the former above the latter ; 
I began to entertain a suspicion, that no man in this age 
was sufficiently qualified for such an undertaking ; and that 
whatever any one should 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 events have arisen contrary to 
the expectation of the ancients, that they are sufficient to 
beget the suspicion of still further changes. 

It has been observed by the ancients, that all the arts and 
sciences arose among free nations ; and, that the Persians 
and Egyptians, notwithstanding their ease, opulence, and 
luxury, made but faint efforts towards a relish in those finer 

1 Xenophon mentions it ; but with a republic De legibus, lib. iv. [This note 

doubt if it be of any advantage to was added in Ed. K] 

a state. El 5e kou efitropia axpeAet ti 2 [Editions A to D read : the Advan- 

it6\li/, &c. Xen. Hiero. 9. 9. Plato tages and Disadvantages of each.] 
totally excludes it from his imaginary 



158 ESSAY Xn. 

pleasures, which were carried to such perfection by the 
Greeks, amidst continual wars, attended with poverty, and 
the greatest simplicity of life and manners. It had also been 
observed, that, when the Greeks lost their liberty, though 
they increased mightily in riches, by means of the conquests 
of Alexander; yet the arts, from that moment, declined 
among them, and have never since been able to raise their 
head in that climate. Learning was transplanted to Eome, 
the only free nation at that time in the universe ; and having 
met with so favourable a soil, it made prodigious shoots for 
above a century ; till the decay of liberty produced also the 
decay of letters, and spread a total barbarism over the world. 
From these two experiments, of which each was double in its 
kind, and shewed the fall of learning in absolute govern- 
ments, as well as its rise in popular ones, Longinus thought 
himself sufficiently justified, in asserting, that the arts and 
sciences could never flourish, but in a free government : And 
in this opinion, he has been followed by several eminent 
writers l in our own country, who either confined their view 
merely to ancient facts, or entertained too great a par- 
tiality in favour of that form of government, established 
amongst us. 

But what would these writers have said, to the instances 
of modern Eome 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, Galileo, more than Eapeael, 
and Michael Angelo, were not born in republics. And 
though the Lombard school was famous as well as the 
Eoman, yet the Venetians have had the smallest share in 
its honours, and seem rather inferior to the other Italians, 
in their genius for the arts and sciences. Eubens esta- 
blished his school at Antwerp, not at Amsterdam : Dres- 
den, not Hamburgh, is the centre of politeness in Germany. 

But the most eminent instance of the flourishing of learn- 
ing in absolute governments, is that of France, which 
scarcely ever enjoyed any established liberty, and yet has 

Mr. Addison and Loud Shaftesbury. 



OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 159 

carried the arts and sciences as near perfection as any other 
nation. The English are, perhaps, greater philosophers ; 1 
the Italians better painters and musicians; the Eomans 
were greater orators : But the French are the only people, 
except the Greeks, who have been at once philosophers, 
poets, orators, historians, painters, architects, sculptors, and 
musicians. With regard to the stage, they have excelled 
even the Greeks, 2 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 conversation. 

If we consider the state of the sciences and polite arts in 
our own country, Horace's observation, with regard to the 
Eomans, may, in a great measure, be applied to the British. 

Sed in longum tamen cevum 

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. 3 As to Sprat, 
Locke, and even Temple, they knew too little of the rules 
of art to be esteemed elegant writers. The prose of Bacon, 
Harrington, and Milton, is altogether stiff and pedantic ; 
though their sense be excellent. Men, in this country, have 
been so much occupied in the great disputes of Religion, 
Politics, and Philosophy, that they had no relish for the 
seemingly minute observations of grammar and criticism. 
And though this turn of thinking must have considerably 
improved our sense and our talent of reasoning ; it must be 
confessed, that, even in those sciences above-mentioned, we 
have not any standard book which we can transmit to pos~ 
terity : And the utmost we have to boast of, are a few essays 
towards a more just philosophy; which, indeed, promise 
well, but have not, as yet, reached any degree of per- 
fection. 

It has become an established opinion, that commerce can 
never flourish but in a free government ; and this opinion 
seems to be founded on a longer and larger experience than 
the foregoing, with regard to the arts and sciences. If we 

1 [N.B. This was published in 1742. 2 [Who English ; added in Edition K] 
So Edition P.] 3 Dr. Swift. 



160 ESSAY XII. 

trace commerce in its progress through Tyre, Athens, 
Syracuse, Carthage, Venice, Florence, Genoa, Antwerp, 
Holland, England, &c. we shall always find it to have 
fixed its seat in free governments. The three greatest 
towns in Europe, are London, Amsterdam, and Hamburgh ; 
all free cities, and protestant cities ; that is, enjoying a 
double liberty. It must, however, be observed, that the 
great jealousy entertained of late, with regard to the com- 
merce of France, seems to prove, that this maxim is no 
more certain and infallible than the foregoing, and that the 
subjects of an absolute prince may become our rivals in 
commerce, as well as in learning. 

Durst I deliver my opinion in an affair of so much un- 
certainty, 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 in- 
separable from it : Though the reason I should assign for 
this opinion, is somewhat different from that which is com- 
monly insisted on. Private 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 extraordinar}\ Avarice, the spur of 
industry, is so obstinate a passion, and works its way through 
so many real dangers and difficulties, that it is not likely to 
be scared by an imaginary danger, which is so small, that it 
scarcely admits of calculation. Commerce, therefore, in my 
opinion, is apt to decay in absolute governments, not because 
it is there less secure, but because it 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 employ- 
ments, to which privileges and honours are annexed. 

Since I am upon this head, of the alterations which time 
has produced, or may produce in politics, I must observe, 
that all kinds of government, free and absolute, seem to 
have undergone, in modern times, a great change for the 
better, with regard both to foreign and domestic manage- 
ment. The balance of power is a secret in politics, fully 



OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 1C1 

known only to the present age ; and I must add, that the 
internal Police of states has also received great improve- 
ments within the last century. We are informed by Sal- 
lust, 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 
Europe, would not amount to a regiment. In Cicero's 
pleadings for Milo, I find this argument, among others, 
made use of to prove, that his client had not assassinated 
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 frequency of the acci- 
dent would have favoured the deceit. This is a surprizing 
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 
sufficiently accustomed to blood and danger in the frequent 
tumults excited by that seditious tribune. 2 

But though all kinds of government be improved in modern 
times, yet monarchical government seems to have made the 
greatest advances towards perfection. It may now be 
affirmed of civilized monarchies, what was formerly said in 
praise of republics alone, that they are a government of Laws, 
not of Men. They are found susceptible of order, method, 
and constancy, to a surprizing degree. Property is there 
secure; industry encouraged; the arts flourish; and the 
prince lives secure among his subjects, like a father among 
his children. 3 There are perhaps, and have been for two 
centuries, nearly two hundred absolute princes, great and 
small, in Europe ; and allowing twenty years to each reign, 
we may suppose, that there have been in the whole two 
thousand monarchs or tyrants, as the Greeks would have 
called them : Yet of these there has not been one, not even 
Philip II. of Spain, so bad as Tiberius, Caligula, Nero, 
or Domitian, who were four in twelve amongst the Roman 
emperors. It must, however, be confessed, that, though 
monarchical governments have approached nearer to popular 

1 Vide Asc. Ped. in Orat.pro Milone. own Lives, for the Life of their Master.] 

2 [Edition A added : and, by the s [This sentence was added in Edi- 
Roman Laws, answerable, upon their tion K.] 

VOL. III. M 



102 ESSAY XII. 

ones, in gentleness and stability ; they are still inferior. Our 
modern education and customs instil more humanity and 
moderation than the ancient ; but have not as yet been 
able to overcome entirely the disadvantages of that form of 
government. 

But here I must beg leave to advance a conjecture, which 
seems probable, but 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 govern- 
ments a source of degeneracy, 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 measure, 
discouraged, and agriculture rendered a beggarly and slavish 
employment. But to whose advantage do these abuses tend ? 
If to that of the nobility, they might be esteemed inherent 
in that form of government ; since the nobility are the true 
supports of monarchy; and it is natural their interest 
should be more consulted, in such a constitution, than that 
of the people. But the nobility are, in reality, the chief 
losers by this oppression ; since it ruins their estates, and 
beggars their tenants. The only gainers by it are the 
Financiers, 1 a race of men rather odious to the nobility and 
the whole kingdom. If a prince or minister, therefore, 
should arise, endowed with sufficient discernment to know 
his own and the public interest, and with sufficient force of 
mind to break through the ancient customs, we might ex- 
pect to see these abuses remedied ; in which case, the dif- 
ference between that absolute government and our free one, 
would not appear so considerable as at present. 

The source of degeneracy, which may be remarked in free 
governments, consists in the practice of contracting debt, 
and mortgaging the public revenues, by which taxes may, 
in time, become altogether intolerable, and all the property 
of the state be brought into the hands of the public. This 



1 [The cedilla is not found in B, or in some Editions of the Political Discourses, 
where the word occurs.] 



OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 163 

practice is of modern date. The Athenians, 1 though 
governed by a republic, paid near two hundred per Cent for 
those sums of money, which any emergence made it neces- 
sary for them to borrow; as we learn from Xenophon. 8 
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 con- 
tracted 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 ofiices, being commonly the 
public creditors, it is difficult for the state to make use of 
this remedy, which, however it may sometimes be necessary, 
is always cruel and barbarous. This, therefore, seems to be 
an inconvenience, which nearly threatens all free govern- 
ments ; 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 re- 
duced, 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 spec- 
tacle full of pleasure and variety, and see, with surprize, the 
manners, customs, and opinions of the same species suscep- 
tible of such prodigious changes in different periods of time. 
It may, however, be observed, that, in civil history, there is 1 
found a much greater uniformity than in the history of learn- \ 

1 [The Athenians, though a Republic, any emergent occasion made it necessary 

paid Twenty per Cent, for Money, as we for them to borrow; as we ]earn from 

. learn from Xenophon. Edition A : and Xenophon. Editions D toQ, : and note.] 

no note. 2 Krrjo'iv tie air' ovdevbs &v ovroo Ka\}]v 

The Athenians, though govern 'd by a KT-fiffaivro, Sxnrep a<f>' 61 &v irpoTeKeffaxriv 

Republic, paid Twenty per Cent, for els r^v aipop^v oi 8e ye w\et(TT0i 

those sums of Money, which any emer- 'Adyvaluv irKelova \fyovTai tear evtavrov 

gent Occasion made it necessary for fi '6<ra tiv elcreveyKaxriv oi ->ctp (ivav 

them to borrow ; as we learn fron Xen- vporeKeo-avres, eyyvsSvo?v/jLva?virp6 oZov 

ophon. Edition B: and no note. eov<n b ZoKeir&p avbpayirivwv a.a<pjX'.ff- 

The Athenians, though governed by rar6v re kcl\ irSXvxpovuSyraTov that, 

a republic, paid near two hundred per HEN. nOPOI. III. 9. 10. 
Cent, for those sums of money, which 

m 2 



164 ESSAY XHL 

ing and science, and that the wars, negotiations, and politics 
of one age resemble more those of another, than the taste, 
wit, and speculative principles. Interest and ambition, 
honour and shame, friendship and enmity, gratitude and 
revenge, are the prime movers in all public transactions; Jf*^ 
and these passions are of a very stubborn and intractable 
nature, in comparison of the sentiments and understanding, c 
which are easily varied by education and example. The ^r^J 
Goths were much more inferior to the Romans, in taste and 
science, than in courage and virtue. v$r 

But not to compare together nations so widely different ; ' ^p 
it may be observed, that even this later period of human ^ ^ 
learning is, in many respects, of an opposite character to the ' 
ancient; and that, if we be superior in philosoph}', we are ty< 
still, notwithstanding all our refinements, much inferior in 
eloquence. Qtf) y 

In ancient times, no work of genius was thought to re- q(\ ^ 
quire so great parts and capacity, as the speaking in public ; 
and some eminent writers have pronounced the talents, even 
of a great poet or philosopher, to be of an inferior nature to 
those which are requisite for such an undertaking. Greece 
and Eome produced, each of them, but one accomplished 
orator ; and whatever praises the other celebrated speakers 
might merit, they were still esteemed much inferior to these 
great models of eloquence. It is observable, that the ancient 
critics could scarcely find two orators in any age, who de- 
served to be placed precisely in the same rank, and possessed 
the same degree of merit. Calvus, (Lelius, Curio, Hor- 
tensius, CiESAR 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, how- 
ever, pronounce this judgment of the Roman orator, as well 
as of the Grecian, that both of them surpassed 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 imagi- 
nation to conceive. Cicero declares himself dissatisfied with 
his own performances ; nay, even with those of Demo- 



1 [Editions C to Padd : that they may almost be esteemed of a different 
pedes.] 




OF ELOQUENCE. 165 

sthenes. Ita sunt avidce & capaces mece aures, says he, & 
semper aliquid immensum, injinitumque desiderant. 1 

Of all the polite and learned nations, England alone pos- 
sesses a popular government, or admits into the legislature 
such numerous assemblies as can be supposed to lie under 
the dominion 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 P Or 
where are the monuments of their genius to be met with ? 
There are found, indeed, in our histories, the names of several, 
who directed the resolutions of our parliament : But neither 
themselves nor others have taken the pains to preserve their 
speeches ; and the authority, which they possessed, seems to 
have been owing to their experience, wisdom, or power, more 
than to their talents for oratory. At present, there are above 
half a dozen speakers in the two houses, who, in the judg- 
ment of the public, have reached very near the same pitch 
of eloquence ; and no man pretends to give any one the pre- 
ference 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 
aspire 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 
ingenious men nocked 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 carry- 
ing 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 celebrated speakers. When old 

1 [Editions C to P add : This single ita necesse fuisse, cum Demosthenes 
circumstance is sufficient to make us dicturus esset, ut concursus, audiendi 
apprehend the wide difference between causa, ex tota Grecia fierent. At cum 
ancient and modern eloquence, and to isti Attici dicunt, non modo a corona 
let us see how much the latter is in- (quod est ipsum miserabile) sed etiara 
ferior to the former.] ab adyocatis relinquuntur. 

2 Ne illud quidem intelligunt, non Cicebo de Claris Oratoribus, c. 84. 
modo ita memoriae proditum esse, sed 



166 ESSAY XIII. 

Cibber is to act, the curiosity of several is more excited, than 
when our prime minister is to defend himself from a motion 
for his removal or impeachment. 

Even a person, unacquainted with the noble remains of 
ancient 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 Apostrophe, like that noble one of Demosthenes, so much 
celebrated by Quintilian and Longinus, when justifying 
the unsuccessful battle of Ch^eronea, he breaks out, No, my 
Fellow-Citizens, No : You have not erred. I swear by the 
manes of those heroes, who fought for the same cause in the 
plains of Marathon and Plat^a. Who could now endure 
such a bold and poetical figure, as that which Cicero em- 
ploys, after describing in the most tragical terms the cruci- 
fixion 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 moun- 
tains, yet should I surely see those rude and inanimate parts of 
nature moved with horror and indignation 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 de- 
grees, at a sentiment so bold and excessive : To inflame the 
audience, so as to make them accompany the speaker in such 
violent passions, and such elevated conceptions : And to con- 
ceal, under a torrent of eloquence, the artifice, by which all 
this is effectuated ! 2 Should this sentiment even appear to 
us excessive, as perhaps it justly may, it will at least serve 
to give an idea of the stile of ancient eloquence, where such 
swelling expressions were not rejected as wholly monstrous 
and gigantic. 

Suitable to this vehemence of thought and expression, 

1 The original is ; Quod si haec non tudine, ad saxa & ad scopulos hsec 

ad cives Romanos, non ad aliquos ami- conqueri & deplorare vellem, tamen 

cos nostra ciyitatis, non ad eos qui omnia muta atque inanima, tanta & 

populi Romani nomen audissent ; deni- tam indigna rerum atrocitate commove- 

que, si non ad homines, verum ad rentur. Cic. in Ver. Act ii. Lib. v. c. 67. 
Inertias; aut etiam, ut longius pro- 2 [This sentence was added in Edi- 

grediar, si in aliqua desertissima soli- tion P.] 



OF ELOQUENCE. 167 

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 ; x though that is now esteemed too violent, either for the 
senate, bar, or pulpit, and is only admitted into the theatre, 
to accompany the most violent passions, which are there 
represented. 

One is somewhat at a loss to what cause we may ascribe 
so sensible a decline of eloquence in 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 pos- 
sesses a popular government ; a circumstance which seems 
requisite for the full display of these noble talents : But not- 
withstanding 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 
unsuitable to our age, and ought not to be imitated by modern 
orators ? Whatever reasons may be made use of to prove this, 
I am persuaded that they will be found, upon examination 
to be unsound and unsatisfactory. 

First, It may be said, that, in ancient times, during the 
flourishing period of Greek and Roman learning, the muni- 
cipal 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 laborious 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 lawyers ; and Cicero, to shew 
the facility of acquiring this science, declares, that, in the 
midst of all his occupations, he would undertake, in a few 
days, to make himself a compleat civilian. Now, where a 
pleader addresses himself to the equity of his judges, he has 
much more room to display his eloquence, than where he 
must draw his arguments from strict laws, statutes, and pre- 
cedents. In the former case, many circumstances must be 

1 Ubi dolor ? Ubi ardor animi, qui mum est) nulla-supplosio. Itaque tantum 

etiam ex infantium ingeniis elicere abfuit ut inflammares nostros animos ; 

voces & querelas solet? nulla pertur- somnum isto loco vix tenebamus. 

batio animi, nulla corporis : frons non Ciceeo de Claris Oratoribus, c. 80. 
percussa, non femur ; pedis (quod mini- 



168 ESSAY XTn. 

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 
appearance of equity. But how shall a modern lawyer have 
leisure to quit his toilsome occupations, in order to gather 
the flowers of Parnassus ? Or what opportunity shall he 
have of displaying them, amidst the rigid and subtile argu- 
ments, objections, and replies, which he is obliged to make 
use of? The greatest genius, the greatest orator, who 
should pretend to plead before the Chancellor, after a month's 
study of the laws, would only labour to make himself ridi- 
culous. 

I am ready to own, that this circumstance, of the multi- 
plicity and intricacy of laws, is a discouragement to elo- 
quence in modern times: But I assert, that it will not 
entirely account for the decline of that noble art. It may 
banish oratory from Westminster-hall, but not from either 
house of parliament. Among the Athenians, the Areo- 
pagites 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 Eoman. But to what a pitch did the 
Athenians carry their eloquence in the deliberative kind, 
when affairs of state were canvassed, and the liberty, hap- 
piness, 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 nation. 

Secondly, It may be pretended that the decline of elo- 
quence is owing to the superior good sense of the moderns, 
who reject with disdain all those rhetorical tricks, employed 
to seduce the judges, and will admit of nothing but solid 
argument in any debate of deliberation. If a man be ac- 
cused of murder, the fact must be proved by witnesses and 
evidence ; and the laws will afterwards determine the pun- 
ishment of the criminal. It would be ridiculous to describe, 
in strong colours, the horror and cruelty of the action : To 
introduce the relations of the dead ; and, at a signal, make 
them throw themselves at the feet of the judges, imploring 
justice with tears and lamentations : And still more ridi- 
culous would it be, to employ a picture representing the 
bloody deed, in order to move the judges by the display of 



OF ELOQUENCE. 169 

so tragical a spectacle : Though we know, that this artifice 
was sometimes practised by the pleaders of old. 1 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 may be acknowledged, that our modern customs, 
or our superior good sense, if you will, should make our 
orators more cautious and reserved than the ancient, in 
attempting to inflame the passions, or elevate the imagina- 
tion of their audience : 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 orators seem also to have been on 
their guard against this jealousy of their audience ; but 
they took a different way of eluding it. 2 They hurried 
away with such a torrent of sublime and pathetic, that they 
left their hearers no leisure to perceive the artifice, by 
which they were deceived. Nay, to consider the matter 
aright, they were not deceived by any artifice. The orator, 
by force of his own genius and eloquence, first inflamed 
himself with anger, indignation, pity, sorrow; and then 
communicated those impetuous movements to his audience. 

Does any man pretend to have more good sense than 
Julius CLesar ? yet that haughty conqueror, we know, was 
so subdued by the charms of Cicero's eloquence, that he 
was, in a manner, constrained to change his settled purpose 
and resolution, and to absolve a criminal, whom, before that 
orator pleaded, he was determined to condemn. 

3 Some objections, I own, notwithstanding his vast success, 
may lie against some passages of the Koman orator. He is 
too florid and rhetorical : His figures are too striking and 
palpable : The divisions of his discourse are drawn chiefly 
from the rules of the schools : And his wit disdains not 
the artifice 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 elo- 
quence. 4 Yet is his manner more chaste and austere than 

1 Qttintil. lib. vi. cap. 1. Athenian people, not the people of the 

2 Longinus, cap. 15. orators. Gohgias Leontintjs was very 

3 [The paragraph was added in Edi- taking with them, till they became ac- 
tion K.] quainted with a better manner. Hia 

4 The orators formed the taste of the figures of speech, says Diodorus Sico- 



170 ESSAY XIH. 

that of the other. Could it be copied, its success would be 
'nfallible 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 perfection. 

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 themselves incapable of reaching the heights of 
ancient eloquence, or rejected all such endeavours, as un- 
suitable to the spirit of modern assemblies? A few suc- 
cessful attempts of this nature might rouse the genius of the 
nation, excite the emulation of the youth, and accustom our 
ears to a more sublime and more pathetic elocution, than 
what we have been hitherto entertained with. There is 
certainly something accidental in the first rise and the 
progress of the arts in any nation. I doubt whether a very 
satisfactory reason can be given, why ancient Rome, though 
it received all its refinements from Greece, could attain 
only to a relish for statuary, painting and architecture, with- 
out 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 established, and popular assemblies 
to enter into all the most material points of government ; I 

lus, his antithesis, his ktSkuXov, his performances. It would be strange pre- 
6fioior4\tvrov, which are now despised, judice in favour of antiquity, not to 
hid a great effect upon the audience. allow a British parliament to be na- 
Lib. xii. page 106. ex editione Ehod. turally superior in judgment and deli- 
It is in vain therefore for modern cacy to an Athenian mob. 
orators to plead the taste of their ' [As my Lord Bolingbroke. C. and 
hearers as an apology for their lame D.] 



OF ELOQUENCE. 



171 



am persuaded so illustrious an example would have given 
a quite different turn to British eloquence, aixd made us 
reach the perfection of the ancient model. Our orators 
would then have done honour to their country, as well as 
our poets, geometers, and philosophers, and British 
Ciceros have appeared, as well as British l Archimedeses 
and Virgils. 2 



1 [Platos and Virgils. C. D. Plu- 
tarchs and Virgils. K. to P.] 

8 [C to P proceed : I have confest 
that there is something accidental in 
the origin and progress of the arts in 
any nation; and yet I cannot forbear 
thinking, that if the other learned and 
polite nations of Europe had possest 
the same advantages of a popular go- 
vernment, they -would probably have 
carried eloquence to a greater height 
than it has yet reached in Britain. 
The French sermons, especially those 
of Flechier and Bossuet, are much 
superior to the English in this parti- 
cular ; and ] in both these authors are 
found many strokes of the most sublime 
poetry. None but private causes, in 
that country, are ever debated before 
their parliaments or courts of judica- 
ture; but notwithstanding this disad- 
vantage, there appears a spirit of elo- 
quence in many of their lawyers, which, 
with proper cultivation and encourage- 
ment, might rise to the greatest height. 
The pleadings of Patru are very ele- 
gant, and give us room to imagine what 
so fine a genius could have performed 
in questions concerning public liberty 
or slavery, peace or war, who exerts 
himself with such success in debates 
concerning the price of an old horse, or 
a gossiping story of a quarrel between 
an abbess and her nuns. For 'tis re- 
markable, that this polite writer, tho' 
esteemed by all the men of wit in his 
time, was never employed in the most 
considerable causes of their courts of 
j udicature, but lived and died in poverty : 
From an ancient prejudice industriously 
propagated by the dunces in all coun- 
tries, That a man of genius is unfit for 
business. The disorders produced by 
the factions against cardinal Mazarine, 
made the parliament of Paris enter into 



the discussion of public affairs, and 
during that short interval, there ap- 
peared many symptoms of the revival of 
ancient eloquence. The avocat general 
Talon, in an oration, invoked on his 
knees, the spirit of St. Louis to look 
down with compassion on his divided 
and unhappy people, and to inspire 
them, from above, with the love of con- 
cord and unanimity. 2 The members of 
the French academy have attempted 
to give us models of eloquence in their 
harangues at their admittance: But, 
having no subject to discourse upon, 
they have run altogether into a fulsome 
strain of panegyric and flattery, the 
most barren of all subjects. Their 
stile, however, is commonly, on these 
occasions, very elevated and sublime, 
and might reach the greatest heights, 
were it employed on a subject more 
favourable and engaging. 

There are some circumstances, I con- 
fess, in the English temper and genius, 
which are disadvantageous to the pro- 
gress of eloquence, and render all 
attempts of that kind more dangerous 
and difficult among them than among 
any other nation. The English are 
conspicuous for good-sense, which makes 
them very jealous of any attempts to 
deceive them by the flowers of rhetoric 
and elocution. They are also peculiarly 
modest; which makes them consider it 
as a piece of arrogance to offer any 
thing but reason to public assemblies, 
or attempt to guide them by passion or 
fancy. I may, perhaps, be allowed to 
add, that the people in general are not 
remarkable for delicacy of taste, or for 
sensibility to the charms of the muses. 
Their musical parts, to use the expres- 
sion of a noble author, are but in- 
different. Hence their comic poets, to 
move them, must have recourse to ob- 



1 [C and D : and in Flechier there are Marechal de Turenne is a good in- 
found many strokes of the most sublime stance.] 
poetry. His funeral sermon on the [De Betz's Memoirs.] 



172 ESSAY XHI. 

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 prevails 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 prejudiced, to the love and admira- 
tion of them. The principles of every passion, and of every 
sentiment, is in every man ; and when touched properly, 
they rise to life, and warm the heart, and convey that satis- 
faction, by which a work of genius is distinguished from the 
adulterate beauties of a capricious wit and fancy. And if 
this observation be true, with regard to all the liberal arts, 
it must be peculiarly so, with regard to eloquence ; which, 
being merely calculated for the public, and for men of the 
world, cannot, with any pretence of reason, appeal from the 
people to more refined judges; but must submit to the 
public verdict, without reserve 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 al- 
together 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 
I sublime and passionate, is of a much juster taste than the 
modern, or the argumentative and rational; and, if pro- 

scenity ; their tragic poets to blood and nounce, that this is a field, in which 

slaughter: And hence their orators, the most flourishing laurels may yet be 

being deprived of any such resource, gathered, if any youth of accomplished 

have abandoned altogether the hopes genius, thoroughly acquainted with all 

of moving them, and have confined the polite arts, and not ignorant of 

themselves to plain argument and rea- public business, should appear in par- 

soning. liament, and accustom our ears to an 

These circumstances, joined to parti- eloquence more commanding and pa- 

cular accidents, may, perhaps, have re- thetic. And to confirm me in this 

tarded the growth of eloquence in this opinion, there occur two considerations, 

kingdom ; but will not be able to pre- the one derived from ancient, the other 

v.nt its success, if ever it appear from modern times.] 
amongst us : And one may safely pro- 



OF ELOQUENCE. 173 

perly executed, will always have more command and au- 
thority over mankind. We are satisfied with our mediocrity, 
because we have had no experience of anything 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 species with that which 
ancient critics denominated Attic eloquence, that is, calm, 
elegant, and subtile, which instructed the reason more than 
affected the passions, and never raised its tone above argu- 
ment or common discourse. Such was the eloquence of 
Ltsias among the Athenians, and of Calvus among the 
Komans. These were esteemed in their time ; but when 
compared with Demosthenes and Cicero, were eclipsed like 
a taper when set in the rays of a meridian sun. Those 
latter orators 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 
proper occasions, they threw into their discourse, and by 
which they commanded the resolution of their audience. 

Of this species of eloquence we have scarcely any instance 
in England, at least in our public speakers. In our writers, 
we have had some instances, which have met with great ap- 
plause, and might assure our ambitious youth of equal or 
superior glory in attempts for the revival of ancient elo- 
quence. Lord Bolingbroke's productions, 1 with all their 
defects in argument, method and precision, contain a force 
and energy which our orators scarcely ever aim at ; though 
it is evident, that such an elevated stile has much better 
grace in a speaker than in a writer, and is assured of more 
prompt and more astonishing success. It is there seconded 
by the graces of voice and action: The movements are mutually 
communicated between the orator and the audience : And 
the very aspect of a large assembly, attentive to the dis- 
course of one man, must inspire him with a peculiar eleva- 
tion, 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 ridicule, 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 

1 [' with precision ' ; this clause was added in Edition K.] 



174 ESSAY XIV. 

into this absurdity ? A public speaker must know before- 
hand the question under debate. He may compose all the 
arguments, objections, and answers, such as he thinks will 
be most proper for his discourse. 1 If any thing new occur, 
he may supply it from his invention ; nor will the difference 
be very apparent between his elaborate and his extemporary 
compositions. The mind naturally continues with the same 
impetus or 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 to a rivalship with the ancient ; yet is there, in most 
of their speeches, a material defect, which they might cor- 
rect, without departing from that composed air of argument 
and reasoning, to which they limit their ambition. Their 
great affectation of extemporary discourses has made them 
reject all order and method, which seems so requisite to 
argument, and without which it is scarcely possible to pro- 
duce 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 an- 
other, and will retain a more thorough persuasion, than can 
arise from the strongest reasons, which are thrown together 
in confusion. 



Essay XIV. Of the Rise and Progress of the Arts and 
Sciences. 

J 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 
subject, in which an author is more liable to deceive himself 
by false subtilties and refinements. To say, that any event 
is derived from chance, cuts short all farther enquiry con- 
cerning it, and leaves the writer in the same state of ignorance 

1 The first of the Atheniahs, who ypairrby \Syov 4v StKcurTyply flirt, rStv 

composed and wrote his speeches, was irpb airrov trx f & ia (6vr<v. Suidas in 

Pkriclbs, a man of business and a man TlepiKAris. 
of sense, if ever there was one, Tlpwros 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 175 

with the rest of mankind. But when the event is supposed 
to proceed from certain and stable causes, he may then dis- 
play his ingenuity, in assigning these causes ; and as a man 
of any subtilty can never be at a loss in this particular, he 
has thereby an opportunity of swelling his volumes, and dis- 
covering his profound knowledge, in observing what escapes 
the vulgar and ignorant. 

The distinguishing between chance and causes must depend 
upon every particular man's sagacity, in considering every 
particular 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 biass, however small, to a 
particular side, this biass, though, perhaps, it may not ap- 
pear in a few throws, will certainly prevail in a great num- 
ber, and will cast the balance entirely to that side. In like 
manner, when any causes beget a particular inclination or 
passion, at a certain time, and among a certain people; 
though many individuals may escape the contagion, and be 
ruled by passions peculiar to themselves ; yet the multitude 
will certainly be seized by the common affection, and be 
governed by it in all their actions. 

Secondly, Those principles of causes, which are fitted to 
operate on a multitude, are always of a grosser and more 
stubborn nature, less subject to accidents, and less influenced 
by whim and private fancy, than those which operate on a 
few only. The latter are commonly so delicate and refined, 
that the smallest incident in the health, education, or fortune 
of a particular person, is sufficient to divert their course, and 
retard their 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 an- 
other ; even though all the general circumstances should be 
the same in both cases. 

To judge by this rule, the domestic and the gradual revo- 
lutions of a state must be a more proper subject of reasoning 
and observation, than the foreign and the violent, which are 
commonly produced by single persons, and are more influ- 



17G ESSAY XIV. 

enced 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 industry, 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 Harb y 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 learning ; and a state, which should apply itself to the 
encouragement of the one, would be more assured of success, 
than one which should cultivate the other. Avarice, or the 
desire of gain, is an universal passion, which operates at all 
times, in all places, and upon all persons : But curiosity, or 
the love of knowledge, has a very limited influence, and re- 
quires 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 commerce 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 governs them, limited: Their taste and judgment 
delicate and easily perverted : And their application dis- 
turbed 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 cul- 
tivate the sciences with such astonishing success, as to at- 
tract the admiration of posterity, be always few, in all nations 
and all ages ; it is impossible but a share of the same spirit 
and genius must be antecedently diffused throughout the 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 177 

people among whom they arise, in order to produce, form, 
and cultivate, from their earliest infancy, the taste and judg- 
ment of those eminent writers. The mass cannot be alto- 
gether 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 animated. 1 Poets, in all ages, have 
advanced this claim to inspiration. 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 brightest, where the ma- 
terials 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 
the taste, genius, and spirit of a few, but concerning 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 Fabius and Soipio, 
lived in Rome at such a time, and why Fabius came into the 
world before Scipio. For such incidents as these, no other 
reason can be given than that of Horace : 

Scit genius, natale comes, qui tempered, astrum, 

Natures Deus humance, 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 particular time, than any of its neighbours. At least, 
this is so curious a subject, that it were a pity to abandon it 
entirely, before we have found whether it be susceptible of 
reasoning, and can be reduced to any general principles. 2 

My first observation on this head is, That it is impossible I 
for the arts and sciences to arise, at first, among any people \ 
unless that people enjoy the blessing of a free government. V 

1 Est Deus in nobis ; agitante calescimus 2 [Editions C to P add : I shall there- 

illo : fore proceed to deliver a few observa- 

Impetus hie, sacrae semina mentis tions on this subject, which I submit to 

habet. the censure and examination of tho 

Otid, Fast. lib. vi. 5. learned.] 

VOL. III. N 



178 ESSAY XIV. 

In the first ages of the world, when men are as yet bar- 
barous and ignorant, they seek no farther security against 
mutual violence and injustice, than the choice of some rulers, 
few or many, in whom they place an implicit confidence, 
without providing any security, by laws or political institu- 
tions, against the violence 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 multitude, the monarch, finding it im- 
possible, in his own person, to execute every office of sove- 
reignty, in every place, must delegate his authority to inferior 
magistrates, who preserve peace and order in their respective 
districts. As experience and education have not yet refined 
the judgments of men to any considerable degree, the prince, 
who is himself unrestrained, never dreams of restraining his 
ministers, but delegates his full authority to every one, whom 
he sets over any portion of the people. All general laws are 
attended with inconveniencies, when applied 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 matter 
of so great difficulty, that men may have made some ad- 
vances, even in the sublime arts of poetry and eloquence, 
where a rapidity of genius and imagination assist their pro- 
gress, 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, unre- 
strained and uninstructed, will ever become a legislator, or 
think of restraining his Bashaws, in every province, or even 
his Cadis in every village. We are told, that the late Czar, 
though actuated with a noble genius, and smit with the love 
and admiration of European arts ; yet professed an esteem for 
the Turkish policy in this particular, and approved of such 
summary decisions of causes, as are practised in that bar- 
barous monarchy, where the judges are not restrained by 
any methods, forms, or laws. He did not perceive, how 
contrary such a practice would have been to all his other 
endeavours for refining his people. Arbitrary power, in all 
cases, is somewhat oppressive and debasing ; but it is alto- 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 179 

gether ruinous and intolerable, when contracted into a small 
compass; 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. 1 
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 Ml and proper sense of the word ; and it is impos- 1 
sible they can ever aspire to any refinements or taste or 
reason. They dare not so much as pretend to enjoy the 
necessaries of life in plenty or security. 

To expect, therefore, that the arts and sciences should 
take their first rise in a monarchy, is to expect a contra- 
diction. Before 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 magistrates. This barbarous 
policy debases the people, and for ever prevents all improve- 
ments. 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 I 
be consistent or rational. 

It may happen, that a republic, in its infant state, may 
be supported by as few laws as a barbarous monarchy, and 
may entrust as unlimited an authority to its magistrates or 
judges. But, besides that the frequent elections by the 
people, are a considerable check upon authority ; it is im- 
possible, but, in time, the necessity of restraining the magis- 
trates, in order to preserve liberty, 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 promulgated 
the twelve tables ; a body of laws, which, though, perhaps, 
they were not equal in bulk to one English act of par- 
liament, were almost the only written rules, which regulated 

1 Tacit, hist. lib. i. 37. 

N 2 



180 ESSAY XIV. 

property and punishment, for some ages, in that famous 
republic. They were, however, sufficient, together with the 
forms of a free government, to secure the lives and pro- 
perties 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 nourish : But never can 
have being amidst such a scene of oppression and slavery, 
as always results from barbarous monarchies, where the 
people alone are restrained by the authority of the magis- 
trates, and the magistrates are not restrained by any law 
or statute. An "limited 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 
instruct them in the advantages, arising from a better police, 
and more moderate authority. 

Here then are the advantages of free states. Though a 
republic should be barbarous, it necessarily, by an infallible 
operation, gives rise to Law, even before mankind have made 
any considerable advances in the other sciences. From law 
arises security : From security curiosity : And from curiosity 
knowledge. The latter steps of this progress may be more 

(accidental ; but the former are altogether necessary. A re- 
public without laws can never have any duration. On the 
contrary, in a monarchical government, law arises not neces- 
sarily from the forms of government. Monarchy, when 
absolute, contains even something repugnant to law. Great 
wisdom and reflection can alone reconcile them. But such 
a degree of wisdom can never be expected, before the greater 
refinements and improvements of human reason. These re- 
finements require curiosity, security, and law. The first 
growth, therefore, of the arts and sciences can never be ex- 
pected in despotic governments. 1 

There are other causes, which discourage the rise of the 
refined arts in despotic governments; though I take the 
want of laws, and the delegation of full powers to every 
petty magistrate, to be the principal. Eloquence certainly 

1 [Editions C to P add : According to cannot precede science. An absolute 

the necessary progress of things, law prince, who is barbarous, renders all 

must precede science. In republics law his ministers and magistrates as abso- 

may precede science, and may arise lute as himself: And there needs no 

from the very nature of the govern- more to prevent, for ever, all industry, 

ment. In monarchies it arises not from curiosity, and science.] 
the nature of the government, and 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 181 

springs up more naturally in popular governments : Emula-! 
tion too in every accomplishment must there be more ani- 
mated 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 emulation, 
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 
to power and to authority. 

Extended governments, where a single person has great 
influence, soon become absolute ; but small ones change 
naturally into commonwealths. A large government is ac- 
customed by degrees to tyranny ; because each act of vio- 
lence is at first performed 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 obe- 
dience ; while each part, ignorant of the resolutions of the 
rest, is afraid to begin any commotion or insurrection. Not 
to mention, that there is a superstitious reverence for princes, 
which mankind naturally contract when they do not often 
see the sovereign, and when many of them become not ac- 
quainted with him so as to perceive his weaknesses. And 
as large states can afford a great expence, in order to sup- 
port 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 ia imme- 
diately known throughout the whole : The murmurs and 
discontents, proceeding from it, are easily communicated : 
And the indignation arises the higher, because the subjects 
are not apt to apprehend in such states, that the distance is 
very wide between themselves and their sovereign. * No man,' 
said the prince of Condb, 'is a hero to his Valet de Chambre.' 
It is certain that admiration and acquaintance are altogether 
incompatible towards any mortal creature. 1 Sleep and love con- 

1 [Editions C to K add the following : the universe, Upon that head, says he, 

Antigonus, being complimented by his you may consult the person that empties 

batterers, as a deity, and as the son of my close stool.] 
that glorious planet, which illuminates 



182 ESSAY XIV. 

vinced even Alexander himself that he was not a God : But I 
suppose that such as daily attended him could easily, from the 
numberless 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 learn- 
ing, by stopping the progress of authority as well as that of 
power. Eeputation is often as great a fascination upon men 
as sovereignty, and is equally destructive to the freedom of 
thought and examination. But where a number of neigh- 
bouring states have a great intercourse of arts and com- 
merce, 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 nothing but nature 
and reason, 1 or, at least, what bears them a strong resem- 
blance, can force its way through all obstacles, and unite the 
most rival nations into an esteem and admiration of it. 

Greece, was a cluster of little principalities, which soon 
became republics; and being united both by their near 
neighbourhood, and by the ties of the same 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 lan- 
guage ; 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 sharpened the wits of men : 
A variety of objects was presented to the judgment, while 
each challenged the preference to the rest : 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 christian, 
or catlwlic 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 

1 [Or resemblance : omitted in C and D.] 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 183 

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 ad- | 
vantage of this situation in several instances. What checked 
the progress of the Cartesian philosophy, to which the 
French nation shewed such a strong propensity towards the 
end of the last century, but the opposition made to it by 
the other nations of Europe, who soon discovered the weak 
sides of that philosophy? The severest scrutiny, which 
Newton's theory has undergone, proceeded not from his own 
countrymen, but from foreigners ; and if it can overcome 
the obstacles, which it meets with at present in all parts of 
Europe, it will probably go down triumphant to the latest 
posterity. The English are become sensible of the scan- 
dalous licentiousness of their stage, from the example of the 
French decency and morals. The French are convinced, 
that their theatre has become somewhat 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 
politeness and science, which, in the course of so many 
centuries, might naturally be expected to ripen into some- 
thing more perfect and finished, than what has yet arisen 
from them. But China is one vast empire, speaking one 
language, governed by one law, and sympathizing in the 
same manners. The authority of any teacher, such as Con- 
fucius, was propagated easily from one corner of the empire 
to the other. None had courage to resist the torrent of popu- 
lar opinion. And posterity was not bold enough to dispute 
what had been universally received by their ancestors. This 
seems to be one natural reason, why the sciences have made 
so slow a progress in that mighty empire. 1 

1 If it be asked how we can reconcile They have no neighbours, except the 

to the foregoing principles the happi- Tartars, from whom they were, in some 

ness, riches, and good police of the measure secured, at least seemed to be 

Chinese, who have always been go- secured, by their famous wall, and by 

verned by a sole monarch, and can the great superiority of their numbers, 

scarce form an idea of a free govern- By this means, military discipline has 

ment; I would answer, that tho' the always been much neglected amongst 

Chinese government be a pure mon- them; and their standing forces are 

archy, it is not, properly speaking, mere militia, of the worst kind ; and 

absolute. This proceeds from a pecu- unfit to suppress any general insurrec- 

liarity of the situation of that country : tion in countries so extremely populous. 



184 ESSAY XTV. 

If we consider the face of the globe, Europe, of all the 
four parts of the world, is the most broken by seas, rivers, 
and mountains ; and Greece of all countries of Europe. 
Hence these regions were naturally divided into several 
distinct governments. And hence the sciences arose in 
Greece ; and Europe has been hitherto the most constant 
habitation of them. 

I have sometimes been inclined to think, that interrup- 
tions in the periods of learning, were they not attended 
with such a destruction of ancient books, and the records of 
history, would be rather favourable to the arts and sciences, 
by breaking the progress 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. Consider 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 a servile philo- 
sophy. 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 Epi- 
cureans, Platonists and Pythagoricians, could never re- 
gain 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 rise 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 tJiat a 

The sword, therefore, may properly be have been so frequent and dangerous 

said to be always in the hands of the in that government. Perhaps, a pure 

people, which is a sufficient restraint monarchy of this kind, were it fitted 

upon the monarch, and obliges him to for a defence against foreign enemies, 

lay his mandarins or governors of pro- would be the best of all governments, 

vinces under the restraint of general as having both the tranquillity attending 

laws, in order to prevent those rebel- kingly power, and the moderation and 

lions, which we learn from history to liberty of popular assemblies. 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 185 

republic is most favourable to the growth of the sciences, a\ 
civilized 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 labour : Time must bring it to perfection : 
And the feeling of inconveniencies must correct the mistakes, 
which they inevitably fall into, in their first trials and ex- 
periments. Hence appears the impossibility, that this un- 
dertaking should be begun and carried on in any monarchy ; 
since such a form of government, ere civilized, knows no 
other secret or policy, than that of entrusting unlimited 
powers to every governor or magistrate, and subdividing 
the people into so many classes and orders of slavery. From 
such a situation, no improvement can ever be expected in 
the sciences, in the liberal arts, in laws, and scarcely in the 
manual arts and manufactures. The same barbarism and 
ignorance, with which the government commences, is propa- 
gated 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, j 
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 culture 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 ; be- \ 
cause they are always relished by a few only, whose leisure, j 
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 oblivion, 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 
propagation. From these causes proceed civilized mo- 



186 ESSAY XIV. 

\narchies ; where the arts of government, first invented in 
(free states, are preserved to the mutual advantage and se- 
curity 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, estab- 
lished among a barbarous people, can ever, by its native 
force and energy, refine and polish itself. It must borrow 
its laws, and methods, and institutions, and consequently its 
stability and order, from free governments. These advan- 
tages are the sole growth of republics. The extensive des- 
potism 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. 

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 dele- 
gated 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 private 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 repub- 
lic, the people have security for the enjoyment of their pro- 
perty ; yet in both these forms of government, those who 
possess the supreme authority have the disposal of many 
honours and advantages, which excite the ambition and 
avarice of mankind. The only difference is, that, in a re- 
public, 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, 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 187 

complaisance, or civility. A strong genius succeeds best in 
republics : 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 
stability from a superstitious reverence to priests and princes, 
have commonly abridged the liberty of reasoning, with re- 
gard to religion, and politics, and consequently metaphysics 
and morals. All these form the most considerable branches 
of science. Mathematics and natural philosophy, which only 
remain, are not half so valuable. 1 

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, 
practises this civility to every mortal, without premeditation 
or interest. But in order to render that valuable quality 
general among any people, it seems necessary to assist the 
natural disposition by some general motive. Where power 
rises upwards from the people to the great, as in all republics, 
such refinements of civility are apt to be little practised ; 
since the whole state is, by that means, brought near to a 
level, and every member of it is rendered, in a great measure, 
independent of another. The people have the advantage, by 
the authority of their suffrages : The great, by the supe- 
riority of their station. But in a civilized monarchy, there 
is a long train of dependence from the prince to the peasant, 
which is not great enough to render property precarious, 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 Holland 2 , 

1 [Editions C to P : There is a very allow the others to remain altogether 

great connection among all the arts, rude and barbarous.] 
which contribute to pleasure ; and the 2 C'est la politesse d'un Suisse 

same delicacy of taste, which enables us En Holiande civilise, 

to make improvements in one, will not Rousseatf. 



188 ESSAY XI V. 

is an expression for rusticity among the French. The Eng- 
lish, in some degree, fall nnder the same censure, notwith- 
standing their learning and genius. And if the Venetians 
be an exception to the rule, they owe it, perhaps, to their 
communication with the other Italians, most of whose 
governments beget a dependence more than sufficient for 
civilizing their manners. 

It is difficult to pronounce any judgment concerning the 
refinements 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 composition. The scurrility of the ancient ora- 
tors, 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 im- 
modesty of their stile, Quicunque impudicus, adulter, ganeo, 
manu, ventre, pene, bona patria laceraverat, says Sallust in 
one of the gravest and most moral passages of his history. 
Nam fuit ante Helenam Cunnus teterrima belli Causa, is an 
expression of Horace, in tracing the origin of moral good 
and evil. Ovid and Lucretius 2 are almost as licentious in 
their stile as Lord Rochester ; though the former were fine 
gentlemen and delicate writers, and the latter 3 , from the 
corruptions of that court, in which he lived, seems to have 
thrown off all regard to shame and decency. Juvenal in- 
culcates modesty with great zeal ; but sets a very bad 
example of it, if we consider the impudence of his expres- 
sions. 

I shall also be bold to affirm, that among the ancients, 
there was not much delicacy of breeding, or that polite defe- 
rence and respect, which civility obliges us either to express 
or counterfeit towards the persons with whom we converse. 
Cicero was certainly one of the finest gentlemen of his age ; 

1 It is needless to cite Cicero or commends a very extraordinary cure for 

Flint on this head : They are too love, and what one expects not to meet 

much noted : But one is a little sur- with in so elegant and philosophical a 

prised to find Arrian, a very grave, poem. It seems to have been the ori- 

judicious writer, interrupt the thread ginal of some of Dr. Swift's ' images. 

of his narration all of a sudden, to tell The elegant Catullus and Phjedrus 

his readers that he himself is as emi- fall under the same censure, 

nent among the Greeks for eloquence * [Editions C and D read : was an 

as Alexander was for arms. Lib. i. 12. abandou'd and shameless Profligate.] 

* This poet (See lib. iv. 1175.) re- 



[C to P insert : beautiful and cleanly.] 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 189 

yet I must confess I have frequently been shocked with the 
poor figure under which he represents his friend Atticus, 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 a 
humble admirer of the orator, pays him frequent compli- 
ments, 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 de 
finibus. 2 

3 One of the most particular details of a real dialogue, 
which we meet with in antiquity, is related by Polybius 4 ; 
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 5 , accompanied with 
ambassadors from almost all the Greek cities. The iETOLiAN 
ambassador very abruptly tells the king, that he talked like 
a fool or a madman (Xrjpeiv). That's evident, says his majesty, 
even to a blind man ; which was a raillery on the blindness of 
his excellency. Yet all this did not pass the usual bounds : 
For the conference was not disturbed ; and Flamininus was 
very well diverted with these strokes of humour. At the 
end, when Philip craved a little time to consult with his 
friends, of whom he had none present, the Roman general, 
being desirous also to shew his wit, as the historian says, 
tells him, that perhaps the reason, why he had none of his 
friends with him, was because he had murdered them all ; 
which was actually the case. This unprovoked piece of 
rusticity is not condemned by the historian; caused no 

1 Att. Non mihi videtur ad beate great a genius as himself, had he spoke, 
vivendum satis esse virtutem. Mar. not to have said something decisive on 
At hercule Beuto meo videtur; cujus the subject, and have carried every thing 
ego judicium, pace tua dixerim, longe before him, as he always does on other 
antepono tuo. Tusc. Quaest. lib. v. 5. occasions. There is also a spirit of dia- 

2 [Editions C to P add the following : logue observed in the eloquent books de 
And 'tis remarkable, that Cicero, Oratore, and a tolerable equality main- 
being a great sceptic in matters of tained among the speakers : But then 
religion, and unwilling to determine these speakers are the great men of the 
any thing on that head among the age preceding the author, and he recounts 
different sects of philosophy, introduces the conference as only from hearsay.] 
his friends disputing concerning the 3 [This paragraph is not found in 
being and nature of the gods, while he Editions C and D.] 

is only a hearer; because, forsooth, it * Lib. xvii. 4. 

would have been an impropriety for so 5 In vita Fj.amin.,c. 2. 



ISO 



ESSAY XIV. 



farther resentment in Philip, than to excite a Sardonian 
smile, or what we call a grin ; and hindered him not from 
renewing the conference next day. Plutarch l too mentions 
this raillery amongst the witty and agreeable sayings of 
Flamininus. 2 



1 Plut. in vita Flamin. c. 17. 

2 [Editions C to P insert : Tis but 
an indifferent compliment, which 
Horack pays to his friend Grosphus, 
in the ode addressed to him. No one, 
says he, is happy in every respect. And 
I may perhaps enjoy some advantages, 
which you are deprived of. You possess 
great richss : Your bellowing herds 
cover the Sicilian plains : Your chariot 
M drawn by the finest horses : And you 
are arrayed in the richest purple. But 
the indulgent fates, with a small inheri- 
tance, have given me a fine genius, and 
have endowed me with a contempt for 
the malignant judgments of the vulgar. 1 
PhjEDRUS says to his patron, Eutychus, 
If you intend to read my works, I shall 
bepleastd: If not, I shall, at least, have 
the advantage of pleasing posterity. 2 I 
am apt to think that a modern poet 



would not have been guilty of such an 
impropriety as that which may be ob- 
served in Virgil's address to Augustus, 
when, after a great deal of extravagant 
flattery, and after having deified the 
emperor, according to the custom of 
those times, he, at last, places this god 
on the same level with himself. By 
your gracious nod, says he, render my 
undertaking prosperous ; and taking 
pity, together with me, of the Swains 
ignorant of husbandry, bestow your 
favourable influence on this work.' Had 
men, in that age. been accustomed to 
observe such niceties, a writer so delicate 
as Virgil would certainly have given 
a different turn to this sentence. The 
court of Augustus, however polite, had 
not yet, it seems, worn off the manners 
of the republic. 



Nihil est ab omni 



Parte beatum. 
Abstulit clarum cita mors Achillem, 
Longa Tithonum minuit senectus, 
Et mihi forsan, tibi quod negarit, 

Porriget hora. 
Te greges centum, Siculaeque circum 
Mugiunt vaccae : tibi tollit, hinni- 
Tum apta quadrigis equa : te bis Afro 

Murice tinctae 
Vestiunt lanae : mihi parva rura, & 
Spiritum Graiae tenuem Camoenae 
Parca non mendax dedit & malignum 
Spernere vulgns. 

Lib. 2. Ode 16. 
2 Quern si leges, laetabor; sin autem 

minus, 
Habebunt certe quo se oblectent posteri. 

Lib. 3. Prol. 31. 
Ignarosque viae mecum miseratus 

agrestes 
Ingredere, & votis jam nunc assuesce 
vocari. 

Georg. Lib. 1. 41. 
One would not say to a prince or 
groat man, ' When you and I were in 
such a place, we saw such a thing 
happen.' But, ' When you were in snch 
a place, I attended you : And such a 
thing happened.' 

Here I cannot forbear mentioning a 



piece of delicacy observed in France, 
which seems to me excessive and ridi- 
culous. You must not say, ' That is a 
very fine dog, Madam.' But, ' Madam, 
that is a very fine dog.' They think it 
indecent that those words, dog and 
madam, should be coupled together in 
the sentence ; though they have no re- 
ference to each other in the sense. 

After all, I acknowledge, that this 
reasoning from single passages of an- 
cient authors may seem fallacious ; and 
that the foregoing arguments cannot 
have great force, but with those who 
are well acquainted with these writers, 
and know the truth of the general 
position. For instance, what absurdity 
would it be to assert, that Virgil 
understood not the force of the terms 
he employs, and could not chuse his 
epithets with propriety ? Because in 
the following lines, addressed also to 
Augustus, he has failed in that par- 
ticular, and has ascribed to the 
Indians a quality, -which seems, in a 
manner, to turn his hero into ridicule. 

Et te, maxime O-sar, 

Qui nunc extremis Asi^ jam victor in 

oris 
7wM/> averts T^MANisaroibnsIndum. 
Georg. Lib. 2. 171.] 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 191 

Cardinal Wolsey apologized for his famous piece of inso- 
lence, in saying, Ego et Rex meus, I and my king, by ob- 
serving, 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; inso- 
much, that we find the spring of a quarrel and jealousy 
between the Romans and ^Etolians, to have been a poet's 
naming the JEtolians before the Romans, in celebrating a 
victory gained by their united arms over the Macedonians. 1 
2 Thus Livia disgusted Tibeeius by placing her own name 
before his in an inscription. 3 

No advantages in this world are pure and unmixed. In 
like manner, as modern politeness, which is naturally so 
ornamental, runs often into affectation and foppery, disguise 
and insincerity ; so the ancient simplicity, which is naturally 
so amiable and affecting, often degenerates into rusticity and* 
abuse, scurrility and obscenity. 

If the superiority in politeness should be allowed to modern; 
times, the modern notions of gallantry, the natural produce 
of courts and monarchies, will probably be assigned as the 
causes of this refinement. No one denies this invention to 
be modern 4 : But some of the more zealous partizans of the 
ancients, have asserted it to be foppish and ridiculous, and a 
reproach, rather than a credit, to the present age. 5 It may 
here be proper to examine this question. 

Nature has implanted in all living creatures an affection 
between the sexes, which, even in the fiercest and most rapa- 
cious animals, is not merely confined to the satisfaction of| 
the bodily appetite, but begets a friendship and mutual sym- 
pathy, 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 visible complacency and benevolence, 

1 Pltjt. in vita Fiamin. c. 9. Clinias, whenever he comes to town, 

2 [This sentence and the paragraph instead of waiting on his mistress, sends 
next following were added in Edi- for her to come to him. 

tion K.] s Lord Shaftesbury, see his Moral- 

8 Tacit, Ann. lib. iii. cap. 64. ists. 

4 In the Self-Tormentor of Terence, 



192 ESSAY XIV. 

which extends farther, and mutually softens the affections of 
the sexes towards each other. 1 How much more must this 
have place in man, where the confinement of the appetite is 
not natural ; but either is derived accidentally from some 
strong charm of love, or arises from reflections on duty 
and convenience ? Nothing, therefore, can proceed less from 
affectation than the passion of gallantr}'. It is natural in 
the highest degree. Art and education, in the most elegant 
courts, make no more alteration on it, than on all the other 
laudable passions. They only turn the mind more towards 
it ; they refine it ; they polish it ; and give it a proper grace 
and expression. 

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. Where that is not attended to, in some degree, 
no human society can subsist. But in order to render con- 
versation, and the intercourse of minds more easy and agree- 
able, good-manners have been invented, and have carried the 
matter somewhat farther. Wherever nature has given the 
mind a propensity to any vice, or to any passion disagreeable 
to others, refined breeding has taught men to throw the biass 
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 preference above others, a polite 
man learns to behave with deference towards his companions, 
and to yield the superiority to them in all the common in- 
cidents of society. In like manner, wherever a person's 
situation may naturally beget any disagreeable suspicion in 
him, it is the part of good-manners to prevent it, by a studied 
display of sentiments, directly contrary to those of which he 
is apt to be jealous. Thus, old men know their infirmities, 
and naturally dread contempt from the youth : Hence, well- 
educated youth redouble the instances of respect and defer- 
ence to their elders. Strangers and foreigners are without 
protection : Hence, m all polite countries, they receive the 

1 [Editions C to P add the following L'orsa con Torso al bosco sicura erra, 
quotation. La Leonessa appresso il Leon giace, 

Tutti gli altri animai cbe sono in terra, Con Lnpo vive il Lupa sicura, 

che vivon quieti & stanno in pace ; Ne la Ciuvenca ha del Torcl paura. 
O up vengon a rissa, & si fan guerra, Ariosto, Canto 5. 

A la fernina il maschio non la face. 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 193 

highest civilities, and are entitled to the first place in every 
company. A man is lord in his own family, and his guests 
are, in a manner, subject to his authority : Hence, he is always 
the 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 betray too visible an affectation, or 
impose too much constraint on his guests. 1 Gallantry is 
nothing but an instance of the same generous attention. As 
nature has given man the superiority above woman, by en- 
dowing him with greater strength both of mind and body ; 
it is his part to alleviate that superiority, as much as possible, 
by the generosity of his behaviour, and by a studied deference 
and complaisance for all her inclinations and opinions. Bar- 
barous 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 
always industrious in helping every one, is certainly the 
person. We must either condemn all such instances of gene- 
rosity, 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 2 
foreign ambassadors. These 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 
regulations, contributes more than any other invention, to the 
entertainment and improvement of the youth of both sexes. 
Among every species of animals, nature has founded on the 

1 The frequent mention in ancient at present so uncivilized as to admit, of 

authors of that ill-bred custom of the such a custom. 

master of the family's eating better 2 See Belation of three Embassies, by 

bread or drinking better wine at table, the Earl of Carlisle. 

than he afforded his guests, is but an 3 [Editions C to P read : In all vege- 

indifferent mark of the civility of those tables, 'tis observable, that the flower 

ages. See Juvenal, sat. 5. Plinii lib. and the seed are always connected 

xiv. cap. 13. Also Plinii Epist. Lucian together; and in like manner, among 

de mercede conductis, Saturnalia, $c. every species, &c] 
There is scarcely any part of Etjrofe 

VOL. III. 



104 ESSAY XIV. 

love between the sexes their sweetest and best enjoyment. 
But the satisfaction of the bodily appetite is not alone suffi- 
cient 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 certainly admit the mind for a con- 
siderable share. Were we to rob the feast of all its garniture 
of reason, discourse, sympathy, friendship, and gaiety, what 
remains would scarcely be worth acceptance, in the judgment 
of the truly elegant and luxurious. 

What better school for manners, than the company of 
virtuous women ; where the mutual endeavour to please must 
insensibly polish the mind, where the example of the female 
softness 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 1 . 

Among the ancients, the character of the fair-sex was con- 
sidered as altogether domestic ; nor were they regarded as 
part of the polite world or of good company. This, perhaps, 
is the true reason why the ancients have not left us one piece 
of pleasantry that is excellent, (unless one may except the 
Banquet of Xenophon, and the Dialogues of Lucian) though 
many of their serious compositions are altogether inimitable. 
Horace condemns 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 polite arts have received from gal- 
lantry, and from courts, where it first arose. 2 

1 [C to add : I must confess, That ing : The point of honour, or duelling, 
my own particular choice rather leads is a modern invention, as well as 
me to prefer the company of a few gallantry; and by some esteemed 
select companions, with whom I can, equally useful for the refining of 
calmly and peaceably, enjoy the feast manners: But how it has contributed 
of reason, and try the justness of every to that effect, I am at a loss to de- 
reflection, whether gay or serious, that termine. Conversation, among the 
may occur to me. But as such a de- greatest rustics, is not commonly in- 
lightful society is not every day to be vested with such rudeness as can give 
met with, I must think, that mixt com- occasion to duels, even according to the 
panies, without the fair-sex, are the most refined laws of this fantastic 
most insipid entertainment in the honour; and as to the other small in- 
world, and destitute of gaiety and decencies, which are the most offensive, 
politeness, as much as of sense and because the most frequent, they can 
reason. Nothing can keep them from never be cured by the practice of duel- 
excessive dulness but hard drinking ; a ling. But these notions are not only 
remedy worse than the disease.] useless : They are also pernicious. By 

2 [Editions C to P insert the follow- separating the man of honour from thp 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 195 

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 
perfection 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 conform- 
able 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 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 dis- 
tinction, was understood, among the Greeks, to be Homer; 
among the Romans, Virgil. Such admiration still remained 
for these divine geniuses ; though 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 suc- 
ceeded, have fixed the admiration of mankind. If his own 
nation be already possessed of many models of eloquence, he 

man of virtue, the greatest profligates Honour's a sacred tye, the law of kings, 

have got something to value themselves The noble mind's distinguishing perfee- 
upon, and have been able to keep them- tion, 

selves in countenance, tho' guilty of the That aids and strengthens virtue when 
most shameful and most dangerous vices. it meets her, 

They are debauchees, spendthrifts, and And imitates her actions where she is 
never pay a farthing they owe: But not: 

they are men of honour ; and therefore It ought not to be sported with. 
are to be received as gentlemen in all 

companies. These lines are very beautiful : But I 
There are some of the parts of am afraid, that Mr. Addison has here 
modern honour, which are the most been guilty of that impropriety of sen- 
essential parts of morality ; such as timent, with which, on other occasions, 
fidelity, the observing promises, and he has so justly reproached our poets, 
telling truth. These points of honour The ancients certainly never had any 
Mr. Addison had in his eye when he notion of honour as distinct from virtue .] 
made Jtjba say, 

o 2 



196 ESSAY XIV. 

I naturally compares his own juvenile exercises with these ; 

1 and being sensible of the great disproportion, is discouraged 
from any farther attempts, and never aims at a rivalship with 
those authors, whom he so much admires. A noble emulation 
is the source of every excellence. 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 surprizing to 
himself and to his readers. 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 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 
perfection. 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, dispersed all over Germany and 
the North, hinder these nations from cultivating their own 
language, and keep them still dependent on their neighbours 
for those elegant entertainments. 

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 
learned ; besides this, I say, the comparison is not so perfect 
or entire between modern wits, and those who lived in so 



THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 197 

remote an age. Had Waller been born in Eome, during 
the reign of Tiberius, his first productions had been despised, 
when compared to the finished odes of Horace. But in this 
island the superiority of the Roman poet diminished nothing 
from the fame of the English. We esteemed ourselves 
sufficiently happy, that our climate and language could pro- 
duce but a faint copy of so excellent an original. 

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 
exhausted, produce any thing that is perfect or finished in 
the kind. 

Essay XY. The Epicurean. 1 

It is a great mortification to the vanity of man, that his 
utmost 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 touch the principal figure. Art may 
make a suit of clothes : But nature must produce a man. 

Even in those productions, commonly denominated works 
of art, we find that the noblest of the kind are beholden for 
their chief beauty to the force and happy influence of nature. 
To the 2 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 inspi- 
ration alone. How poor are those songs, where a happy 
flow of fancy has not furnished materials for art to embelish 
and refine ! 

But of all the fruitless attempts of art, no one is so ridicu- 
lous, as that which the severe philosophers have undertaken, 

1 Or, The man of elegance and plea- life and of happiness. I have given each 

sure. The intention of this and the three of them the name of the philosophical 

following essays is not so much to ex- sect, to which it bears the greatest affi- 

plain accurately the sentiments of the nity. 

ancient sects of philosophy, as to de- * [Editions C to D : To the Oestrum 

liver the sentiments of sects, that na- or Verve. K to P : To the Oestrum or 

turally form themselves in the world, native enthusiasm.] 
and ent-rtain different ideas- of human 



198 ESSAY XV. 

the producing of an artificial happiness, and making us be 
pleased by rules of reason, and by reflection. Why did none 
of them claim the reward, which Xerxes promised to him, 
who should invent a new pleasure ? Unless, perhaps, they 
invented so many pleasures for their own use, that they de- 
spised 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 delivered 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 framed. I find, that I should only 
spoil it by my tampering. 

To what purpose should I pretend to regulate, refine, or 
invigorate any of those springs or principles, which nature 
has implanted in me ? Is this the road by which I must 
reach happiness 9 But happiness implies ease, contentment, 
repose, and pleasure ; 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 circulates the blood : The brain sepa- 
rates and refines the spirits : And all this without my con- 
cerning myself in the matter. When by my will alone I can 
stop the blood, as it runs with impetuosity along its canals, 
then may I hope to change the course of my sentiments and 
passions. In vain should I strain my faculties, and endea- 
vour to receive pleasure from an object, which is not fitted 
by nature to affect my organs with delight. I may give my- 
self pain by my fruitless endeavours ; but shall never reach 
any pleasure. 

Away then with all those vain pretences of making our- 
selves happy within ourselves, of feasting on our own 
thoughts, of being satisfied with the consciousness of well- 



THE EPICUREAN. 19 

doing, and of despising all assistance and all supplies from 
external objects. This is the voice of Pride, not of Nature. 
And it were well, if even this pride could support itself, and 
communicate a real inward pleasure, however melancholy 
or severe. But this impotent pride can do no more than 
regulate the outside ; and with infinite pains and attention 
compose the language and countenance to a philosophical 
dignity, in order to deceive the ignorant vulgar. The heart, 
mean while, is empty of all enjoyment : And the mind, un- 
supported by its proper objects, sinks into the deepest sorrow 
and dejection. Miserable, but vain mortal ! Thy mind be tj 
happy within itself ! With what resources is it endowed to f 
fill so immense a void, and supply the place of all thy bodily 
senses and faculties? Can thy head subsist without thy 
other members ? In such a situation, 

What foolish figure must it make? 
Bo nothing else but sleep and ake. 

Into such a lethargy, or such a melancholy, must thy mind 
be plunged, when deprived of foreign occupations and enjoy- 
ments. 

Keep me, therefore, no longer in this violent constraint. 
Confine me not within myself; but point out to me those 
objects and pleasures, which afford the chief enjoyment. But 
why do I apply to you, proud and ignorant sages, to 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. 

But see, propitious to my wishes, the divine, the amiable 
Pleasure, 1 the supreme love of GODS and men, advances 
towards me. At her approach, my heart beats with genial 
heat, and every sense and every faculty is dissolved in jo} r ; 
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, or 
fan me with their odoriferous wings, or pour on my head the 
most fragrant oils, or offer me their sparkling nectar in 

1 Dia Voluntas. Lucket. 



200 ESSAY XV. 

golden goblets. ! 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 your unrelenting pace? Suffer me to enjoy 
this soft repose, after all my fatigues in search of happi- 
ness. Suffer me to satiate myself with these delicacies, after 
the pains of so long and so foolish an abstinence. 

But it will not do. The roses have lost their hue : The 
fruit its flavour : And that delicious wine, whose fumes, so 
late, intoxicated all my senses with such delight, now soli- 
cits in vain the sated palate. Pleasure smiles at my lan- 
guor. She beckons her sister, Virtue, to come to her 
assistance. The gay, the frolic Virtue observes the call, and 
brings along the whole troop of my jovial friends. Welcome, 
thrice welcome, my ever dear companions, to these shady 
bowers, and to this luxurious repast. Your presence has 
restored to the rose its hue, and to the fruit its flavour. 
The vapours of this sprightly nectar now again play around 
my heart ; while you partake of my delights, and discover 
in your cheerful looks, the pleasure which you receive from 
my happiness and satisfaction. The like do I receive from 
yours ; and encouraged by your joyous presence, shall again 
renew 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 rea- 
sonings of the schools, is true wisdom to be found. In our 
friendly endearments, better than in the hollow debates of 
statesmen and pretended patriots, does true virtue display 
itself. Forgetful of the past^ secure of the future, let us 
here enjoy the present ; and while we yet 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 
Bacchus, and of his revellers, should break in upon this 
entertainment, and confound us with their turbulent and 
clamorous pleasures. The sprightly muses wait around ; 



THE EPICUREAN. 201 

and with their charming symphony, sufficient to soften the 
wolves and tygers of the savage desert, inspire a soft joy into 
every bosom. Peace, harmony 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, 1 while the wanton spring pours upon you all her 
blooming honours, let not glory seduce you, with her delusive 
blaze, to pass in perils and dangers this delicious season, 
this prime of life. Wisdom points out to you the road to 
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 invaluable a present, to trifle 
with so perishing a blessing. Contemplate well your recom- 
pence. 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 neglects 
it; nature enjoys it not; fancy alone, renouncing every 
pleasure, receives this airy recompence, empty and unstable 
as herself.' 

Thus the hours passed unperceived along, and lead in their 
wanton train all the pleasures of sense, and all the joys of 
harmony and friendship. Smiling innocence closes the pro- 
cession ; 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 
toward us. 

1 An imitation of the Syren's song in V ammantan di fiorite & verde 
Tasso. spoglie,' &c. 

' Giovinetti, mentre Apkilk & Giuresalemme liberata, Canto 14. 

Maggio 



202 ESSAY XV. 

But the sun has sunk below the horizon ; and darkness, 
stealing silently upon us, has now buried all nature in an 
universal shade. ' Eejoice, my friends, continue your repast, 
or change it for soft repose. Though absent, your joy or your 
tranquillity shall still be mine.' But whither do you go ? Or 
what new pleasures call you from our society ? Is there aught 
agreeable without your friends? And can aught please, in 
which we partake not ? ' Yes, my friends ; the joy which I 
now seek, admits not of your participation. Here alone I 
wish your absence : And here alone can I find a sufficient 
compensation 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 (Lelia, 
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 nought , 
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 bosom ! 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 suf- 
fice to remove this doubt ; and while they express your pas- 
sion, serve also to enflame mine. How amiable 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 con- 
vey a pleasure, which deluded mortals vainly seek for in every 
other enjoyment 

But why 1 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 C^elia ! 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 

1 [Editiou C : after our tumultuous joys.] 



THE EPICUREAN. 20;', 

frail, if youth be transitory, we should well employ the pre- NX^ 
sent moment, and lose no part of so perishable an existence. 
Yet a little moment and these shall be no more. We shall be, Jj 
as if we had never been. Not a memory of us be left upon cl 
earth ; and even the fabulous shades below will not afford us Q,*^ 
a habitation. Our fruitless anxieties, 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 cer- 
tain of, that, if ai?y governing mind preside, he must be 
pleased to see us fulfil the ends of our being, and enjoy 
that pleasure, for which alone we were created. Let this 
reflection give ease to your anxious thoughts ; but render 
not your joys too serious, by dwelling for ever upon it. It 
is sufficient, once, to be acquainted with this philosophy, in 
order to give an unbounded loose to love and jollity, and re- 
move all the 'scruples -ofa 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. 1 

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 cloathed and armed 
by this beneficent 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 indigent 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 subsisting, by his own care and 
vigilance. Every thing is sold to skill and labour ; and where 

1 Or the man of action and virtue. 



204 ESSAY XVI. 

nature famishes the materials, they are still rude and un- 
finished, till industry, ever active and intelligent, refines them 
from their brute state, and fits them for human use and con- 
venience. 

Acknowledge, therefore, O man, the beneficence of nature ; 
for she has given thee that intelligence which supplies all thy 
necessities. But let not indolence, under the false appearance 
of gratitude, persuade thee to rest contented with her pre- 
sents. Wouldest thou return to the raw herbage for thy 
food, to the open sky for thy covering, and to stones and clubs 
for thy defence 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 be- 
low those animals, whose condition thou admirest, and 
wouldest so fondly imitate. 

Thy kind parent, nature, having given thee art and intel- 
ligence, has filled the whole globe with materials to employ 
these talents : Hearken to her voice, which so plainly tells 
thee, that thou, thyself shouldest 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 sta- 
tion in the universe. Behold this artizau, who converts a 
rude and shapeless stone into a noble metal ; and moulding 
that metal by his cunning hands, creates, as it were by 
magic, every weapon for his defence, and every utensil for 
his convenience. He has not this skill from nature : Use 
and practice have taught it him: And if thou wouldest 
emulate his success, thou must follow his laborious foot- 
steps. 

But while thou ambitiously aspirest to perfecting thy 
bodily powers and faculties, wouldest thou meanly neglect thy 
mind, and from a preposterous sloth, leave it still rude and 
uncultivated, 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 supply 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 



THE STOIC. 205 

use of man, produces, to its slothful owner, the most abun- 
dant crop of poisons. 

The great end of all human industry, is the attainment of 
happiness. For this were arts invented, sciences cultivated, 
laws" ordained, and societies modelled, by the most profound 
wisdom 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 con- 
venience which industry has invented ; so much is this citi- 
zen himself inferior to the man of virtue, and the true phi- 
losopher, who governs his appetites, subdues his passions, and 
has learned, from reason, to set a just value on every pursuit 
and enjoyment. For is there an art and an apprenticeship 
necessary for every other attainment ? And is there no art 
of life, no rule, no precepts to direct us in this principal con- 
cern ? Can no particular pleasure be attained without skill ; 
and can the whole be regulated without reflection or intelli- 
gence, by the blind guidance of appetite and instinct? 
Surely then no mistakes are ever committed in this affair ; but 
every man, however dissolute 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 committed, let us register 
these mistakes ; let us consider their causes ; let us weigh 
their importance ; let us enquire for their remedies. When 
from this we have fixed all their 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 result of their conspiring order. 

While thou hast such an alluring object in view, shall that 



200 ESSAY XVI. 

labour and attention, requisite to the attainment of thy end, 
ever 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 hunters rise from their downy couches, shake 
off the slumbers which still weigh down their heavy eye-lids, 
and, ere Aurora has yet covered the heavens with her flaming 
mantle, hasten to the forest. They leave behind, in their 
own houses, and in the neighbouring plains, animals of every 
kind, whose flesh furnishes the most delicious fare, and which 
offer themselves to the fatal stroke. Laborious man disdains 
so easy a 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 pas- 
sion of the 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 culti- 
vating of our mind, the moderating of our passions, the 
enlightening of our reason, an agreeable occupation ; while 
we ^re every day sensible of our progress, and behold our 
inward features and countenance brightening 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 bodj r , 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 do 
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 
every delight insipid and loathsome ; and ere yet the body, 
full of noxious humours, feels the torment of its multiplied 
diseases, your nobler part is sensible of the invading poison, 
and seeks in vain to relieve its anxiety by new pleasures, 
which still augment the fatal malady. 



THE STOIC. 207 

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 moment, ravish from you. I shall suppose, that 
your indulgent stars favour you still with the enjoyment of 
your riches and possessions. I prove to you, that even in 
the midst of your luxurious pleasures, you are unhappy ; and 
that by too much indulgence, you are incapable of enjoying 
what prosperous fortune still allows you to possess. 

But surely the instability of fortune is a 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 un- 
stable deity should not exert her rage against you, the dread 
of it would still torment 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 v 
of the fighting elements, and inaccessible to all the malice 
of man. The rolling thunder breaks below ; and those more 
terrible instruments of human fury reach not to so sublime 
a height. The sage, while he breathes that serene air, looks 
down with pleasure, mixed with compassion, on the errors of 
mistaken mortals, who blindly seek for the true path of life, 
and pursue riches, nobility, honour, or power, for genuine 
felicity. The greater part he beholds 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. 

But does the sage always preserve himself in this philoso- 
phical 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 pretending to elevate him above human accidents, 
does in reality harden his heart, and render him careless of 
the interests of mankind, and of society ? No ; he knows 
that in this sullen Apathy, neither true wisdom nor true hap- 
piness 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 



208 ESSAY XVT. 

laments the miseries of 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 humanity, that 
they brighten up the very face of sorrow, and operate like 
the sun, which, shining on a dusky cloud or falling rain, 
paints on them the most glorious colours which are to be 
found in the whole circle of nature. 

But it is not here alone, that the social virtues display 
their energy. With whatever ingredient you mix them, they 
are still predominant. As sorrow cannot overcome them, so 
neither can sensual pleasure obscure them. The joys of 
love, however tumultuous, banish not the tender sentiments 
of sympathy and affection. They even derive their chief in- 
fluence from that generous passion ; and when presented 
alone, afford nothing to the unhappy mind but lassitude and 
disgust. Behold this sprightly debauchee, who professes a 
contempt of all other pleasures but those of wine and jollity: 
Separate him from his companions, 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 lothes the sumptuous banquet, 
and prefers even the most abstracted study and speculation, 
as more agreeable and entertaining. 

But the social passions never afford such transporting 
pleasures, or make so glorious an appearance in the eyes 
both of GOD and man, as when, shaking off every earthly 
mixture, they associate themselves with the sentiments of 
virtue, and prompt us to laudable and worthy actions. As 
harmonious colours mutually give and receive a lustre by 
their friendly union ; so do these ennobling sentiments of 
the human mind. See the 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 succour, 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 re- 
lieving the distressed, in comforting the afflicted, in raising 



THE STOIC. 209 

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 virtuous 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 divinest and 
most enlarged affections, and carrying its attention beyond 
kindred and acquaintance, extends its benevolent wishes to 
the most distant posterity. It views liberty and laws as the 
source of human happiness, and devotes itself, with the ut- 
most 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 interests of our country. Happy 
the man, whom indulgent fortune allows to pay to virtue 
what he owes to nature, and to make a generous gift of what 
must otherwise be ravished from him by cruel necessity ! 

In the true sage and patriot are united whatever can dis- 
tinguish human nature, or elevate mortal man to a resem- 
blance with the divinity. The softest benevolence, the most 
undaunted resolution, the tenderest sentiments, the most 
sublime love of virtue, all these animate successively his 
transported bosom. What satisfaction, when he looks within, 
to find the most turbulent passions turned to just harmony 
and concord, and every jarring sound banished from this 
enchanting music ! If the contemplation, 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 re- 
flection and industry ? 

But where is the reward of virtue ? And what recommence 
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 mis- 
tress ? 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 

VOL. III. p 



210 ESSAY XVI. 

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 beauty, she has 
wisely provided, that this dowry can have no charms but in 
the eyes of those who are already transported with the love 
of virtue. Glory is the portion of virtue, the sweet reward 
of honourable toils, the triumphant crown, which covers the 
thoughtful head of the 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 pleasure, and all the menaces of danger. 
Death itself loses its terrors, when he considers, that its 
dominion extends only over a 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 specu- 
lative reasoners dispute, how far this beneficent being ex- 
tends 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 reward 
prepared for him ; but if disappointed, he thinks not virtue 
an empty name ; but justly esteeming it its own reward, he 
gratefully acknowledges the bounty of his creator, who, by 
calling him into existence, has thereby afforded him an oppor- 
tunity of once acquiring so invaluable a possession. 



Essay XVII. The Platonist. 1 

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 con- 
demn what is fondly sought after by another. To some it 
appears matter of still more surprize, that a man should 

1 Or, the man of contemplation, and philosophical devotion. 



THE PLATONIST. 211 

differ so widely from himself 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 un- 
avoidable ; nor can a rational soul, made for the contempla- 
tion 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 
smaller streams, which, arising at first from this ocean, seek 
still, amid all their wanderings, to return to it, and to lose 
themselves in that 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, the unsatisfactory nature of all those pleasures, 
which detain it from its true object. I examine the volup- 
tuous man before enjoyment; I measure the vehemence of 
his desire, and the importance 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 fondly sought after. 
The sense of his guilt and misery returns upon him with 
double anguish : His mind tormented with fear and remorse ; 
his body depressed with disgust and satiety. 

But a more august, at least a more haughty personage, 
presents himself boldly to our censure ; and assuming the 
title of a philosopher and a man of morals, offers to submit 
to the most rigid examination. He challenges, with a 
visible, though concealed impatience, our approbation and 
applause ; and seems offended, that we should hesitate a 
moment before we break out into admiration of his virtue. 
Seeing this impatience, I hesitate still more : I begin to ex- 
amine the motives of his seeming virtue : 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 pretensions. 

p 2 



212 ESSAY XVn. 

philosopher ! thy wisdom is vain, and thy virtue un- 
profitable. Thou seekest the ignorant applauses of men, not 
the solid reflections of thy own conscience, or the more solid 
approbation of that being, who, with one regard of his all- 
seeing eye, penetrates the universe. Thou surely art con- 
scious of the hollow ness of thy pretended probity, whilst 
calling thyself a citizen, a son, a friend, thou forgettest thy 
higher sovereign, thy true father, thy greatest benefactor. 
Where is the adoration due to infinite perfection, whence 
every thing good and valuable is derived ? Where is the 
gratitude, owing to thy creator, who called thee forth from 
nothing, who placed thee in all these relations to thy fellow- 
creatures, and requiring thee to fulfil the duty of each rela- 
tion, forbids thee to neglect what thou owest to himself, the 
most perfect being, to whom thou art connected by the 
closest tye ? 

But thou art thyself thy own idol : Thou worshippest thy 
imaginary perfections : Or rather, sensible of thy real imper- 
fections, thou seekest only to deceive the world, and to please 
thy fancy, by multiplying thy ignorant admirers. Thus, not 
content with neglecting what is most excellent in the uni- 
verse, thou desirest to substitute in his place what is most 
vile and contemptible. 

Consider all the works of men's hands ; all the inventions 
of human wit, in which thou affectest so nice a discernment : 
Thou wilt find, that the most perfect production still pro- 
ceeds from the most perfect thought, and that it is mind 
alone, which we admire, while we bestow our applause on 
the graces of a well-proportioned statue, or the symmetry of 
a noble pile. The statuary, the architect comes still in view, 
and makes us reflect on the beauty of his art and contriv- 
ance, which, from a heap of unformed matter, could extract 
such expressions and proportions. This superior beauty of 
thought and intelligence thou thyself acknowledgest, 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 
valuable? Amid thy rapturous applauses of beauty and 
order, art thou still ignorant where is to be found the most 
consummate beauty? the most perfect order? Compare 
the works of art with those of nature. The one are but 



THE PLATONIST. 213 



imitations of the other. The nearer art approaches to na- 
ture, the more perfect is it esteemed. But still, how wide 
are its nearest approaches, and what an immense interval 
may be observed between them ? Art copies only the out- 
side 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 
nature, despairing to reach that grandeur and magnificence, 
which are so astonishing in the masterly works of her origi- 
nal. Can we then be so blind as not to discover an intelli- 
gence 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 
contemplation 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 narrowness of our faculties, which con- 
ceals from us the greatest part of these beauties and perfec- 
tions ; or the shortness of our lives, which allows not time 
sufficient to instruct us in them. But it is our comfort, 
that, if we employ worthily the faculties here assigned us, 
they will be enlarged in another state of existence, so as to 
render us more suitable worshippers of our maker : And that 
the task, which can never be finished in time, will be the 
business of an eternity. 

Essay XVIIL 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 conclu- 
sions. There is one mistake, to which they seem liable, 
almost without exception; _hey 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 



214 ESSAY XVI II. 

same principle over the whole creation, and reduces to it 
every phenomenon, though by the most violent 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 predominant inclination, to which his other 
desires and affections submit, and which governs him, though, 
perhaps, with some intervals, through the whole course of 
his life. It is difficult for him to apprehend, that any thing, 
which appears totally indifferent to him, can ever give en- 
joyment to any person, or can possess charms, which alto- 
gether escape his observation. His own pursuits are always, 
in his account, the most engaging : The objects of his passion, 
the most valuable : And the road, which he pursues, the only 
one that leads to happiness. 

But would these prejudiced reasoners reflect a moment, 
there are many obvious instances and arguments, sufficient to 
undeceive them, and make them enlarge their maxims and 
principles. Do they not see the vast variety of inclinations 
and pursuits among our species ; where each man seems fully 
satisfied with his own course of life, and would esteem it the 
greatest unhappiness to be confined to that of his neighbour ? 
Do they not feel in themselves, that what pleases at one 
time, displeases at another, by the change of inclination ; 
and that it is not in their power, by their utmost efforts, to 
recall that taste or appetite, which formerly bestowed charms 
on what now appears indifferent or disagreeable ? What is 
the meaning therefore of those general preferences of the 
town or country life, of a life of action or one of pleasure, of 
retirement or society ; when besides the different inclinations 
of different men, every one's experience may convince him, 
that each of these kinds of life is agreeable in its turn, and 
that their variety or their judicious mixture chiefly con- 
tributes to the rendering all of them agreeable. 

But shall this business be allowed to go altogether at 
adventures? And must a man consult only his humour and 



THE SCEPTIC. 215 

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, following 
his inclination, in chusing his course of life, may employ 
much surer means for succeeding than another, who is led 
by his inclination into the same course of life, and pursues 
the same object. Are riches the chief object of your desires ? 
Acquire skill in your profession ; be diligent in the exercise 
of it ; enlarge the circle of your friends and acquaintance ; 
jtvoid _ pleasure and expense ; 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 opinion 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 some- 
thing by magic or witchcraft, beyond what can be known by 

common prudence and discretion ? Yes ; we come to a 

philosopher to be instructed, 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 dan- 
ger, if my answer be too rigid and severe, of passing for a 
pedant and scholastic : if it be too easy and free, of being 
taken for a preacher of vice and immorality. However, to 
satisfy you, I shall deliver my opinion upon the matter, and 
shall only desire you to esteem it of as little consequence as 
I do myself. By that means you will neither think it 
worthy of your ridicule nor your anger. 



2:6 essay xvm. 

If we can depend upon any principle, which we learn from 
philosophy, this, I think, may be considered as certain and 
undoubted, that there is nothing, in itself, valuable or de- 
spicable, desirable or hateful, beautiful or deformed; but 
that these attributes arise from the particular constitution 
and fabric of human sentiment and affection. What seems 
the most delicious food to one animal, appears loathsome to 
another : What affects the feeling of one with delight, pro- 
duces 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 obser- 
vation holds even where the mind concurs with the body, 
and mingles its sentiment with the exterior appetite. 

Desire this passionate lover to give you a character of his 
mistress : He will tell you, that he is at a loss for words to 
describe her charms, and will ask you very seriously if ever 
you were acquainted with a goddess or an angel ? If you 
answer that you never were : He will then say, that it is im- 
possible for you to form a conception of such divine beauties 
as those which his charmer possesses ; so complete a shape ; 
such well-proportioned 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 infused 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 utmost indifference. 

Nature has given all animals a like prejudice in favour of 
their offspring. As soon as the helpless infant sees the light, 
though in every other eye it appears a despicable and a 
miserable creature, it is regarded by its fond parent with the 
utmost affection, and is preferred to every other object, how- 
ever perfect and accomplished. The passion alone, arising 
from the original structure and formation of human nature, 
bestows a value on the most insignificant object. 

We may push the same observation further, and may con- 
clude, that, even when the mind operates alone, and feeling 
the sentiment 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 



THE SCEPTIC. 217 

objects, but belong entirely to the sentiment of that mind 
which blames or praises. I grant, that it will be more diffi- 
cult to make this proposition evident, and as it were, palpable, 
to negligent thinkers ; because nature is more uniform in the 
j3gntiments of the mind than in most feelings of the body, 
and produces a nearer resemblance in the inward than in the 
outward part of human kind. There is something approach- 
ing to principles in mental tastes ; and critics can reason and 
dispute more plausibly than cooks or perfumers. We may 
observe, however, that this uniformity among human kind, 
hinders not, but that there is a considerable diversity in the 
sentiments of beauty and worth, and that education, custom, 
prejudice, caprice, and humour, frequently vary our taste of 
this kind. You will never convince a man, who is not accus- 
tomed 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 
particular taste will always appear a more convincing argu- 
ment to the contrary. If you be wise, each of you will allow, 
that the other may be in the right ; and having many other 
instances of this diversity of taste, you will both confess, that 
beauty and worth are merely of a relative nature, and consist 
in an agreeable sentiment, produced by an object in a par- 
ticular mind, according to the peculiar structure and consti- 
tution of that mind. 

By this diversity of sentiment, observable in human kind, 
nature has, perhaps, intended to make us sensible of her 
authority, and let us see what surprizing 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 vulgar may even be convinced by this 
argument : But men, accustomed 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 the Ptolomaic and Copernican 
systems, I endeavour 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 



218 ESSAY XVIIT. 

bear towards each other in the heavens. To this operation 
of the mind, therefore, there seems to be always a real, 
though often an unknown standard, in the nature of things ; 
nor is truth or falsehood variable by the various apprehen- 
sions of mankind. Though all human race should for ever 
conclude, that the sun moves, and the earth remains at rest, 
the sun stirs not an inch from his place for all these reason- 
ings ; 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 sur- 
veying its objects, as they stand in themselves : It also feels 
a sentiment 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 fabric 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 structure of the mind or inward 
organs, the sentiment no longer follows, though the form 
remains the same. The sentiment being different from the 
object, and arising from its operations 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 different, 
produce the same sentiment. 

This conclusion every one is apt to draw of himself, with- 
out much philosophy, where the sentiment is evidently dis- 
tinguishable from the object. Who is not sensible, that 
power, and glory, and vengeance, are not desirable of them- 
selves, but derive all their value from the structure of human 
passions, which begets a desire towards such particular pur- 
suits ? But with regard to beauty, either natural or moral, 
the case is commonly supposed to be different. The agree- 
able quality is thought to lie in the object, not in the senti- 
ment; and that merely because the sentiment 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 Coper- 
nican system, and all the irregular spirals of the Ptolomaic, 
without perceiving that the former is more beautiful than 



THE SCEPTIC. 219 

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 is evident. Beauty is not a quality of 
the circle. It lies not in any part of the line whose parts are 
all equally distant from a common center. It is only the 
effect, which that figure produces upon a mind, whose par- 
ticular 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 studied so exactly the geography of the poem. 
He knew, therefore, 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 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 under- 
standing of an angel. 1 

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 pursuit. Objects have absolutely no worth or 
value in themselves. They derive their worth merely from 
the passion. If that be strong, and steady, and successful, 
the person is happy. It cannot reasonably be doubted, but 

1 Were I not afraid of appearing Tho' colours were allowed to lie only in 

too philosophical, 1 should remind my the eye, would dyers or painters ever be 

reader of that famous doctrine, supposed less regarded or esteemed ? There is a 

to be fully proved in modern times, sufficient uniformity in the senses and 

'That tastes and colours, and all other feelings of mankind, to make all these 

sensible qualities, lie not in the bodies, qualities the objects of art and retison- 

but merely in the senses.' The case is ing, and to have the greatest influence 

the same with beauty and deformity, on life and manners. And as 'tis cer- 

virtue and vice. This doctrine, how- tain, that the discovery above-mentioned 

ever, takes off no more from the reality in natural philosophy, makes no altera- 

of the latter qualities, than from that tion on action and conduct ; why should 

of the former; nor need it give any a like discovery in moral philosophy 

umbrage either to critics or moralists. make any alteration ? 



220 ESSAY XVIII. 

a little miss, dressed in a new gown for a dancing-school 
ball, receives as corapleat enjoyment as the greatest orator, 
who triumphs in the splendour of his eloquence, while he 
governs the passions and resolutions of a numerous assembly. 

All the difference, therefore, between one man and another, 
with regard to life, consists either in the passion, or in the 
enjoyment ; 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 indo- 
lence and lethargy. 

To be happy, the passion must be benign and social ; not 
rough or fierce. The affections of the latter kind are not 
near so agreeable to the feeling, as those of the former. 
Who will compare rancour and animosity, envy and revenge, 
to friendship, benignity, clemency, and gratitude ? 

To be happy, the passion must be chearful and gay, not 
gloomy and melancholy. A propensity to hope and joy is 
real riches : One to fear and sorrow, real poverty. 

Some passions or inclinations, in the enjoyment of their 
object, are not so steady or constant as others, nor convey 
such durable pleasure and satisfaction. Philosophical devotion, 
for instance, 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 moment 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 super- 
stitions and observances are even found to be of use in this 
particular. 

Though the tempers of men be very different, yet we may 
safely pronounce in general, that a life of pleasure cannot 
support itself so long as one of business, but is much more 
subject to satiety and disgust. The amusements, which are 
the most durable, have all a mixture of application and 
attention in them ; such as gaming and hunting. And in 
general, business and action fill up all the great vacancies 
in human life. 



THE SCEPTIC. 221 

But where the temper is the best disposed for any enjoy- 
ment, the object is often wanting : And in this respect, the 
passions, which pursue external objects, contribute not so 
much to happiness, as those which rest in ourselves ; since we 
are neither so certain of attaining such objects, nor so secure 
in possessing them. A 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 chearfulness. Nothing contributes more 
to happiness than such a turn of mind. 

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 favourable 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, pre- 
ferable 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, deprive 
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 



222 ESSAY XVIII. 

in a man's power, b) r the utmost art and industry, to correct 
his temper, and attain that virtuous character, to which he 
aspires. The empire of philosophy extends over a few ; and 
with regard to these too, her authority is very weak and 
limited. Men may well be sensible of the value of virtue, 
and may desire to attain it ; but it is not always certain, that 
they will be successful in their wishes. 

Whoever considers, without prejudice, the course of hu- 
man actions, will find, that mankind are almost entirely 
guided by constitution and temper, and that general maxims 
have little influence, so far as they affect our taste or senti- 
ment. If a man have a lively sense of honour and virtue, 
with moderate passions, his conduct will always be conform- 
able 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 perverse a frame of mind, of so cal- 
lous and insensible a disposition, as to have no relish for 
virtue and humanity, no sympathy with his fellow-creatures, 
no desire of esteem and applause ; such a one must be al- 
lowed entirely incurable, nor is there any remedy in philo- 
sophy. He reaps no satisfaction but from low and sensual 
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 a better character : For my part, I know not how I 
should address myself to such a one, or by what arguments I 
should endeavour to reform him. Should I tell him of the 
inward satisfaction which results from laudable and humane 
actions, the delicate pleasure of disinterested love and friend- 
ship, the lasting enjoyments of a good name and an estab- 
lished character, he might still reply, that these were, per- 
haps, 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 anything but lament 
this person's unhappy condition. But then I ask, If any 
other philosophy can afford a remedy ; or if it be possible, by 
any system, to render all mankind virtuous, however per- 
verse 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 



THE SCEPTIC. 223 

philosophy, arises in an indirect manner, 1 and proceeds more 
from its secret, insensible influence, than from its immediate 
application. 

It is certain, that a serious attention to the sciences and 
liberal arts softens and humanizes the temper, and cherishes 
those fine emotions, in which true virtue and honour consists. 
It rarely, very rarely happens, that a man of taste and learn- 
ing 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 dis- 
position, it is highly probable, that others may be produced 
by study and application. The prodigious effects of educa- 
tion may convince us, that the mind is not altogether stub- 
born and inflexible, but will admit of many alterations from 
its original make and structure. Let a man propose to him- 
self the model of a character, 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 con- 
strain himself to practise 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 reformation 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 virtuous. 

1 [The remainder of this sentence does not occur in Editions C and D.] 



224 ESSAY XVIII. 

Here then is the chief triumph of art and philosophy : It 
insensibly refines the temper, and it points out to us those 
dispositions which we should endeavour to attain, by a 
constant bent of mind, and by repeated habit. Beyond this 
I cannot acknowledge 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 them- 
selves, desirable or odious, valuable or despicable ; but that 
objects acquire these qualities from the particular character 
and constitution of the mind, which surveys them. To di- 
minish therefore, or augment any person's value for an object, 
to excite or moderate his passions, there are no direct argu- 
ments or reasons, which can be employed with any force or 
influence. The catching of flies, like Domitian, if it give 
more pleasure, is preferable to the hunting of wild beasts, 
like William Rupus, or conquering 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 
observe, that the passion, in pronouncing its verdict, con- 
siders not the object simply, as it is in itself, but surveys it 
with all the circumstances, which attend it. A man trans- 
ported 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 cir- 
cumstances, which otherwise would have escaped us ; and, 
by that means, he may either moderate or excite any 
particular passion. 

It may seem unreasonable absolutely to deny the authority 
of philosophy in this respect : But it must be confessed, that 
there lies this strong presumption against it, that, if these 
views be natural and obvious, they would have occurred of 
themselves, without the assistance of philosophy; if they 
be not natural, they never can have any influence on the 
affections. These are of a very delicate nature, and can- 
not be forced or constrained by the utmost art or industry. 
A consideration, which we seek for on purpose, which we 
enter into with difficulty, which we cannot retain without 



THE SCEPTIC. 225 

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 
disproportion of her features, as hope to excite or moderate 
any passion by the artificial arguments of a Seneca or an 
Epiotetus. The remembrance of the natural aspect and 
situation of the object, will, in both cases, still recur upon 
him. The reflections of philosophy are too subtile and 
distant to take place in common life, or eradicate any affec- 
tion. The air is too fine to breathe in, where it is above the 
winds and clouds of the atmosphere. 

Another defect of those refined reflections, which philo- 
sophy suggests to us, is, that commonly they cannot diminish 
or extinguish 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 in- 
cessant study and meditation we have rendered them inti- 
mate and present to us, they will operate throughout, and 
spread an universal insensibility over the mind. When we 
destroy the nerves, we extinguish the sense of pleasure, 
together with that of pain, in the human body. 

It will be easy, by one glance of the eye to find one or 
other of these defects in most of those philosophical reflec- 
tions, so much celebrated both in ancient and modern times. 
Let not the injuries or violence of men, say the philosophers, 1 
ever discompose you by anger or hatred. Would you be angry at 
the ape for its malice, or the tyger for its ferocity ? This re- 
flection leads us into a bad opinion of human nature, and 
must extinguish the social affections. It tends also to pre- 
vent all remorse for a man's own crimes ; when he considers, 
that vice is as natural to mankind, as the particular instincts 
to brute-creatures. 

All ills arise from the 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 t What if the ills 
I suffer arise from malice or oppression f But the vices and 

1 Pltjt. de ira cohibenda. 
VOL. III. Q 



226 ESSAY XVHT. 

imperfections of men are also comprehended in the order of the 
universe : 

If plagues and earthquakes break not hcav'ris design, 

Why then a Boegia or a Catiline ? 

Let this be allowed ; and my own vices will also be a part oT 
the same order. 

1 To one who said, that none were happy, who were not 
above opinion, a Spartan replied, then none are happy hut 
knaves and robbers. 2 

Man is born to be miserable ; and is he surprized at any par- 
ticular misfortune? And can he give way to sorrow and 
lamentation upon account of any disaster ? Yes : He very 
reasonably laments, that he should be born to be miserable. 
Your consolation presents a hundred ills for one, of which 
you pretend to ease him. 

You should always have before your eyes death, disease, 
poverty, blindness, exile, calumny, and infamy, as ills which 
are incident 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 reflection on the ills of human life, that can have no 
effect to prepare us for them. If by close and intense medi- 
tation 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 
understand ? The Punic, Spanish, Gallic, ^Egyptian, &c. 
With regard to all these, you are as if you were deaf, yet you 
are indifferent about the matter. Is it then so great a misfor- 
tune to be deaf to one language more ? 3 

I like better the repartee of Antipater the Cyreniac, 
when some women were condoling with him for his blind- 
ness : 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 

1 [This paragraph does not occur in * Plut. Lacon, Apophtheg. 

Editions C and D.] Tusc. Quest, lib. v. 40. 



THE SCEPTIC. 227 

astronomy. What a poor thing is even the whole globe in com- 
parison of the infinite extent of nature f 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 astronomy, but stand proof against every system. Would 
philosophers advise us to limit our affection to them ? 

1 Exile, says Plutarch to a friend in banishment, is no 
evil: Mathematicians tell us, thai the whole earth is but a 
point, compared to the heavens. To change one's country then 
is little more than to remove from one street to another. Man 
is not a plant, rooted to a certain spot of earth : All soils and 
all climates are alike suited to him 2 . These topics are admi- 
rable, could they fall only into the hands of banished persons. 
But what if they come also to the knowledge of those who 
are employed in public affairs, and destroy all their attach- 
ment 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 con- 
descension 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 occupation which Lucian assigns him in the 
infernal regions. Now all the same topics of disdain towards 
human affairs, which could operate on this supposed being, 
occur also to a philosopher ; but being, in some measure, dis- 
proportioned to human capacity, and not being fortified by 
the experience of any thing better, they make not a full 
impression on him. He sees, but he feels not sufficiently 
their truth ; and is always a sublime philosopher, when he 
needs not; that is, as long as nothing disturbs him, or rouzes 
his affections. While others play, he wonders at their keen- 

1 [The two following paragraphs do not occur in Editions C and B.] 

2 JDe exilio. 

Q2 



228 ESSAY XVIH. 

ness 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, 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 despicable seem all our pursuits of 
happiness ? And even, if we would extend our concern 
beyond our own life, how frivolous appear our most enlarged 
and most generous projects ; when we consider the incessant 
changes and revolutions of human affairs, by which laws and 
learning, books and governments are hurried away by time, 
as by a rapid stream, and are lost in the immense ocean of 
matter ? Such a reflection certainly tends to mortify all our 
passions : But does it not thereby counterwork the artifice of 
nature, 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 Thuctdides, that, during the famous 
plague of Athens, when death seemed present to every one, 
a dissolute mirth and gaiety prevailed among the people, 
who exhorted one another to make the most of life as long 
as it endured. l The same observation is made by Boocace 
with regard to the plague of Florence. A like principle 
makes soldiers, during war, be more addicted to riot and ex- 
pence, than any other race of men. * Present pleasure is 
always of importance ; and whatever diminishes the impor- 
tance of all other objects 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 com- 
parison of our own condition with the condition of others. 
This comparison we are continually making, even in common 

1 [This sentence does not occur in Peace, by producing Security, has much 
Editions C and D.] alter'd them in this Particular, and has 

2 [In place of this sentence Editions quite remov'd our Officers from the 
C and D read as follows : And 'tis oh- generous Character of their Profes- 
Ntrvable, in this Kingdom, that long sion.] 



THE SCEPTIC. 



229 



life ; but the misfortune is, that we are rather apt to com- 
pare our situation with that of our superiors, than with that 
of our inferiors. A philosopher corrects this natural in- 
firmity, by turning his view to the other side, in order to 
render himself easy in the situation, to which fortune has 
confined him. There are few people, who are not susceptible 
of some consolation from this reflection, though, to a very 
good-natured man, the view of human miseries should rather 
produce sorrow than comfort, and add, to his lamentations 
for his own misfortunes, a deep compassion for those of 
others. Such is the imperfection, even of the best of these 
philosophical topics of consolation. 1 

I shall conclude this subject with observing, that, though 
virtue be undoubtedly the best choice, when it is attainable ; 
yet such is the disorder and confusion of human affairs, that 

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 com- 
plicated. 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 pro- 
per object. 

10. Anticipate by your hopes and 
fancy future consolation, which time in- 
fallibly 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 : See the 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 esteem 
of all my acquaintance. And what is 
all the rest to me ? 

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 real, affecting incident 
happens ; when passion is awakened, 
fancy agitated, example draws, and 
counsel urges; the philosopher is lost 
in the man, and he seeks in vain for 



1 The Sceptic, perhaps, carries the 
matter too far, when he limits all philo- 
sophical topics and reflections to these 
two. There seem to be others, whose 
truth is undeniable, and whose natural 
tendency is to tranquillize and soften 
all the passions. Philosophy greedily 
seizes these, studies them, weighs them, 
commits them to the memory, and 
familiarizes them to the mind: And 
their influence on tempers, which are 
thoughtful, 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 entertain and nourish 
itself. Here are a few examples of such 
philosophical reflections. 

1. Is it not certain, that every con- 
dition has concealed ills? Then why 
envy any body ? 

2. Every one has known ills; and 
there is a compensation throughout. 
Why not be contented with the pre- 
sent? 

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 con- 
dition of which I complain? How 
many envy me ? 



2S0 ESSAY XVm. 

no perfect or regular distribution of happiness and misery is 
ever, in this life, to be expected. Not only the goods of 
fortune, and the endowments of the body (both of which are 
important), not only these advantages, I say, are unequally 
divided between the virtuous and vicious, but even the mind 
itself partakes, in some degree, of this disorder, and the 
most worthy character, by the very constitution of the pas- 
sions, 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 external accidents, 
always the most happy. A gloomy and melancholy disposi- 
tion is certainly, to our sentiments, a vice or imperfection ; 
but as it may be accompanied with great sense of honour 
and great integrity, it may be found in very worthy charac- 
ters ; 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 temper, a certain * gaiety of heart, which is indeed a good 
quality, but which is rewarded much beyond its merit, and 
when attended with good fortune, will compensate for the 
uneasiness and remorse arising from all the other vices. 

I shall add, as an observation to the same purpose, that, if 
a man be liable to a vice or imperfection, it may often hap- 
pen, that a good quality, which he possesses along with it, 

that persuasion which before seemed so external aid : By habit and study ac- 

firm and unshaken. What remedy for quire that philosophical temper which 

this inconvenience ? Assist yourself by both gives force to reflection, and by 

a frequent perusal of the entertaining rendering a great part of your happi- 

moralists : Have recourse to the learn- ness independent, takos off the edge 

ing of Plutarch, the imagination of from all disorderly passions, and tran- 

Lxjcian, the eloquence of Cicero, the quillizes the mind. Despise not these 

wit of Seneca, the gaiety of Montaigne, helps; but confide not too much in 

the sublimity of Shaftksbury. Moral them neither ; unless nature has been 

precepts, so couched, strike deep, and favourable in the temper, with which 

fortify the mind against the illusions of she has endowed you. 
passion. But trust not altogether to ' [Gaiete de Cceur : Edition C] 



THE SCEPTIC. 231 

will render him more miserable, than if he were completely 
vicious. A person of such imbecility of temper as to be 
easily broken by affliction, 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 for- 
tune and accidents. A sense of shame, in an imperfect 
character, is certainly a virtue ; but produces great uneasi- 
ness and remorse, from which the abandoned villain is en- 
tirely free. A very amorous complexion, with a heart in- 
capable of friendship, is happier than the same excess in 
love, with a generosity of temper, which transports a man 
beyond himself, and renders him a total slave to the object of 
his passion. 

In a word, human life is more governed by fortune than by 
reason ; is to be regarded more as a dull pastime than as a 
serious occupation; and is more influenced by particular 
humour, than by general principles. Shall we engage our- 
selves in it with passion and anxiety ? It is not worthy of 
so much concern. Shall we be indifferent about what hap- 
pens ? 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 ? Even to reason 
so carefully concerning it, and to fix with accuracy its just 
idea, would be overvaluing it, were it not that, to some 
tempers, this occupation is one of the most amusing, in 
which life could possibly be employed. 



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 evident, that it must be susceptible of all the variety of 
conditions, which consent establishes, provided they be not 
contrary to this end. 

A man, in conjoining himself to a woman, is bound to her 
according to the terms of his engagement: In begetting 
children, he is bound, by all the ties of nature and humanity, 
to provide for their subsistence and education. When he has 



232 ESSAY XIX. 

performed these two parts of duty, no one can reproach him 
I 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 
advantages, 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 engagement, they are assured, it is said, of the 
strictest fidelity to their bed, as well as in the whole manage- 
ment of their affairs, from those temporary spouses. 

I cannot, at present, recollect my authorities ; but I have 
somewhere read, that the republic of Athens, having lost 
many of its citizens by war and pestilence, allowed every man 
to marry two wives, in order the sooner to repair the waste 
which had been made by these calamities. The poet Euripides 
happened to be coupled to two noisy Vixens who so plagued 
him with their jealousies and quarrels, that he became ever 
after a professed woman-hater ; and is the only theatrical 
writer, perhaps the only poet, that ever entertained an aver- 
sion to the sex. 

In that agreeable romance, called the History of the 
Sevarambians, where a great many men and a few women 
are supposed 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 couple of inferior officers ; and to five of the lowest rank 
he gives one wife in common. 1 

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 

1 [Editions C to P add the following: circumstances, have contrived matters 
Could the greatest legislator, in such with greater wisdom ?] 



OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 233 

born, were reputed to belong to all of them, and were accord- 
ingly provided for by the whole community. 

Among the inferior creatures, nature herself, being the 
supreme legislator, prescribes all the laws which regulate 
their marriages, and varies those laws according to the differ- 
ent circumstances of the creature. Where she furnishes, 
with ease, food and defence to the newborn animal, the 
present embrace terminates the marriage ; and the care of 
the offspring is committed entirely to the female. Where 
the food is of more difficult purchase, the marriage continues 
for one season, till the common progeny can provide for 
itself; and the union immediately dissolves, and leaves each 
of the parties free to enter 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 prud- 
ence, according to his particular circumstances and situation. 
Municipal laws are a supply to the wisdom of each individual ; 
and, at the same time, by restraining the natural liberty of 
men, make private interest submit to the interest of the 
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 amcng the 
Eastern nations; or of voluntary divorces, as among the 
Greeks and Bomans ; or they may confine one man to one 
woman, during the whole course of their lives, as among the 
modern Europeans. It may not be disagreeable to consider 
the advantages and disadvantages, which result from each of 
these institutions. 

The advocates for polygamy may recommend it as the 
only effectual remedy for the disorders of love, and the only 
expedient for freeing men from that slavery to the 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 



234 ESSAY XL\. 

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 an uncontroul- 
able sway. 1 

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 established 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 tyrant ? 

In what capacity shall we gain by this inhuman proceed- 
ing ? 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 themselves, 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. 2 

But the Asiatic manners are as destructive to friendship 
as to love. Jealousy excludes men from all intimacies and 
familiarities 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 wonder then, that Solomon, living like an 
eastern prince, with his seven hundred wives, and three 
hundred concubines, without one friend, could write so 

1 [Editions C to P add the following: ambassador in France. We Turks, 
An honest Turk, who should come from says he, are great simpletons in com.' 
his seraglio, where every one trembles parison of the Christians. We are at 
before him, would be surprized to see the expense and trouble of keeping a 
Sylvia in her drawing-room, adored by seraglio, each in his own house : But 
all the beaus and pretty fellows about you ease yourselves of this burdm, and 
town, and he would certainly take her have your seraglio in your friends' 
for some mighty and despotic queen, houses. The known virtue of our 
surrounded by her guard of obsequious British ladies frees them sufficiently 
slaves and eunuchs.] from this imputation: And the T; i;k 

2 [C to N add the following para- himself, had ho travelled among us, 
graph : I would not willingly insist must have owned, that our free com- 
upon it as an advantage in our Euro- merce with the fair sex, more than any 
pean customs, what was observed by other invention, embellishes, enlivens, 
Mehbmet Effendi the last Turkish and polishes society.] 



OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 235 

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 fonnd life somewhat 
more agreeable. Destroy love and friendship ; what remains I 
in the world worth accepting ? 

1 The bad education of children, especially children of 
condition, is another unavoidable consequence of these eastern 
institutions. 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, are apt to forget the natural equality 
of mankind. What attention, 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 insepar- 
able 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 any 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 rendered them unfit objects of 
desire. Touenefoet tells us, that, when he was brought into 
the grand signor's seraglio as a physician, he was not a little 
surprized, in looking along a gallery, to see a great 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 patient, 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 
Touenefoet been of this latter kind, he would not, in 
Constantinople, have been allowed by the jealous Tueks 

1 [This paragraph does not occur in Editions C to K.] 



23G ESSAY XIX. 

to be furnished with materials requisite for exercising his 
art. 

In another country, where polygamy is also allowed, they 
render their wives cripples, and make their feet of no use to 
them, in order to confine them to their own houses. But it 
will, perhaps, appear strange, that, in a European country, 
jealousy can yet be carried to such a height, that it is inde- 
cent so much as to suppose that a woman of rank can have 
feet or legs. 1 Witness the following story, which we have 
from very good authority. 2 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 express 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 remark- 
able. The major domo, who conducted the princess, received 
the gloves very graciously : But when the stockings were 
presented, he flung them away with great indignation, and 
severely reprimanded the magistrates for this egregious piece 
of indecency. Know, says he, that a queen of Spain has no 
legs. The young queen, who, at that time, understood the 
language but imperfectly, and had often been frightened with 
stories of Spanish jealousy, imagined that they were to cut 
off her legs. Upon which she fell a crying, and begged them 
to conduct her back to Germany ; for that she never could 
endure the operation : And it was with some difficulty they 
could appease her. Philip IV. is said never in his life to 
have laughed heartily, but at the recital of this story. 3 

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 

1 [Editions C to P add the following : Turkish lady? She must hot be sup- 
A Spaniard is jealous of the very posed to have a being at all. Accord- 
thoughts of those who approach his ingly, 'tis esteemed a piece of rudeness 
wife ; and, if possible, will prevent his and indecency at Constantinople, ever 
being dishonoured, even by the wanton- to make mention of a man's wives be- 
ness of imagination.] fore him. 1 In Europe, 'tis true, fine 

2 Memoirs de la cour ^'Espagne par bred people make it also a rule never 
Madame d 1 Aunoy. to talk of their wives. But the reason 

* [Editions C to P add as follows : If is not founded on our jealousy. I sup- 
a Spanish lady must not be supposed to pose it is because we should be apt, 
have legs, what must be supposed of a were it not for this rule, to become 



1 [Memoirc8 de Marquis d'Argens.'] 



OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 237 

divorces, which were customary among the Greeks and 
Eomans. Those who would defend this practice may employ 
the following 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, proceed- 
ing from mutual injuries, festers them every day the more, by 
new quarrels and reproaches ? Let us separate hearts, which 
were 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, dissolved 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 
liberty : 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 person, 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 
divorces: 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 step-mother ; and instead of the 
fond attention and concern of a parent, feel all the indiffer- 
ence or hatred of a stranger or an enemy ? These incon- 
veniences are sufficiently felt, where nature has made the 
divorce by the doom inevitable to all mortals : And shall we 
seek to multiply those inconveniences, by multiplying divorces, 



troublesome to company, by talking too to mention their wives in company, lest 

much of them. they should talk of them before people, 

The author of the Persian letters who are better acquainted with them than 

has given a different reason for this themselves.] 
polite maxim. Men, says he, never care 



288 ESSAY XIX. 

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 naturally submits to necessity, and soon loses an in- 
clination, 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 contradic- 
tions ! Though it is remarkable, 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 occasion, according as circum- 
stances are more or less favourable to it. For instance, love 
1 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 Abelabd. 

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 acquaint- 
ance 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. 1 We need not, there- 
fore, be afraid of drawing the marriage-knot, which chiefly 
subsists by friendship, the closest possible. The amity 

1 [Editions C to P add as follows : of raptures and extasies beyond the 
Let us consider then, whether love or honey-month, is a fool. Even romances 
friendship should most predominate in themselves, with all their liberty of 
marriage ; and we shall soon deter- fiction, are obliged to drop their lovers 
mine whether liberty or constraint be the very day of their marriage, and find 
most favourable to it. The happiest it easier to support the passion for a 
marriages, to be sure, are found where dozen years under coldness, disdain and 
love, by long acquaintance, is consoli- difficulties, than a week under posses- 
dated into friendship. Whoever dreams sion and security.] 



OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 239 

between the persons, 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, 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 
interests and concerns, as man and wife, without rendering 
the union entire and total. The least possibility of a separate 
interest must be the source of endless quarrels and sus- 
picions. * The wife, not secure of her establishment, will still 
be driving some separate end or project ; and the husband's 
selfishness, being accompanied 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 testi- 
mony of experience. At the time when divorces were most 
frequent 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. 2 The more ancient laws 
of Rome, which prohibited divorces, are extremely praised by 
Diontsius Halycarnass^eus. 3 Wonderful was the harmony, 
says the historian, which this inseparable union of interests 
produced between married persons ; while each of them con- 
sidered the inevitable necessity by which they were linked 
together, and abandoned all prospect of any other choice or 
establishment. 

The exclusion of polygamy and divorces sufficiently re- 
commends our present European practice with regard to 
marriage. 

1 [In place of ' The wife, not secure wife, will be doubly ruinous.'] 

of her establishment, will still be driv- 2 [Editions C and D omit the re- 

ing some separate end or project,' Edi- mainder of the paragraph.] 

tions P to C read : ' What Ih\ Parnel 8 Lib. ii. 25. 
calls, The little pilf ring temper of a 



240 ESSAY XX. 



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 
cannot be a juster, and more concise definition of fine writing. 

Sentiments, which are merely natural, affect not the miud 
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 of 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 convey a lively image to 
the mind. The absurd naivety 1 of Sancho Pancho is represented 
in such inimitable colours by Cervantes, that it entertains as 
much as the picture of the most magnanimous 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 actors. If his language be not elegant, his 
observations uncommon, his sense strong and masculine, he 
will in vain boast his nature and simplicity. He may be 
correct ; but he never will be agreeable. It is the unhappiness 
of such authors, that they are never blamed or censured. 
The good fortune of a book, and that of a man, are not the 
same. The secret deceiving path of life, which Horace 
talks of, fallentis semita vitce, may be the happiest lot of the 
one ; but is the greatest misfortune, which the other can 
possibly fall into. 

On the other hand, productions, which are merely sur- 
prising, without being natural, can never give any lasting 
entertainment to the mind. To draw chimeras is not, pro- 
perly speaking, to copy or imitate. The justness of the 
representation is lost, and the mind is displeased to find a 
picture, which bears no resemblance to any original. Nor 
are such excessive refinements more agreeable in the epistolary 
or philosophic style, than in the epic or tragic. Too much 

1 [Editions C to K : Naivety, a word which I have borrow'd from the French, 
and which is wanted in our language.] 



OF SIMPLICITY AND EEFINEMENT. 241 

ornament is a fault in every kind of production. Uncommon 
expressions, strong flashes of wit, pointed similes, and 
epigrammatic turns, especially when they recur too frequently, 
are a disfigurement, rather than any embellishment of dis- 
course. As the eye, in surveying a Gothic building, is dis- 
tracted 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 overabounds in wit, even though that 
wit, in itself, should be just and agreeable. But it commonly 
happens to such writers, that they seek for their favourite 
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 myself to a few general observations on that 
head. 

First, I observe, That though excesses of both Mnds 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 
respect, between Mr. Pope and Lucretius. These seem to 
lie in the two greatest extremes of refinement and simplicity, 
in which a poet can indulge himself, without being guilty of 
any blameable excess. All this interval may be filled with 
poets, who may differ from each other, but may be equally 
admirable, each in his peculiar stile and manner. Corneille 
and Congreve, who carry their wit and refinement some- 
what farther than Mr. Pope (if poets of so different a kind 
can be compared together), and 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 cha- 
racters. Of all the great poets, Virgil and Racine, in my 
opinion, lie nearest the center, and are the farthest removed 
from both the extremities. 

My second observation on this head is, That it is very diffi- 
cult, if not impossible, to explain by words, where the just 
medium lies between the excesses of simplicity and refinement, or 

VOL. III. R 



242 ESSAY XX. 

to give any rule by which we can know precisely the bounds 
between the fault and the beauty. A critic may not only dis- 
course very judiciously on this head, without instructing his 
readers, but even without understanding the matter perfectly 
himself. There is not a finer piece of criticism than the dis- 
sertation on pastorals by Fontenelle ; in which, by a number 
of reflections and philosophical reasonings, he endeavours to 
fix the just medium, which is suitable to that species of 
writing. But let any one read the pastorals of that author, 
and he will be convinced, that this judicious critic, notwith- 
standing his fine reasonings, had a false taste, and fixed the 
point of perfection much nearer the extreme 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 excessive 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 instructive, 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 in- 
compatible. When the affections are moved, there is no place 
for the imagination. The mind of man being naturally 
limited, it is impossible that all its 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 simplicity 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 refinement. 

We may also observe, that those compositions, which we 



OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT. 243 

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 cloathed. 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 not longer affected by 
it. When I read an epigram of Martial, the first line re- 
calls the whole; and I have no pleasure in repeating to 
myself what I know already. But each line, each word in 
Catullus, has its merit ; and I am never tired with the 
perusal of him. It is sufficient to run over Cowley once : 
But Parnel, after the fiftieth reading, is as fresh as at the 
first. Besides, 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 everything, 
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. 
Simplicity passes for dulness, when it is not accompanied 
with great elegance and propriety. On the contrary, there 
. is something surprizing in a blaze of wit and conceit. Or- 
dinary readers are mightily struck with it, and falsely ima- 
gine it to be the most difficult, as well as 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 progress, and after eminent writers have ap- 
peared in every species of composition. The endeavour to 
please by novelty leads men wide of simplicity and nature, 
and fills their writings with affectation and conceit. It 
was thus the Asiatic eloquence degenerated so much from 
the Attic : It was thus the age of Claudius and Neeo 
became so much inferior to that of Augustus in taste and 

1 [The first clause of this sentence "was added in Edition K.] 
e 2 



244 ESSAY XXI. 

genius : And perhaps there are, at present, some symptoms 
of a like degeneracy of taste, in France as well as in Eng- 
land. 

1 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 un- 
distinguishing judgments : Though at the same time, they 
allow, that each nation has a peculiar set of manners, and 
that some particular qualities 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 Frenchman 
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 native 
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 render a peculiar set of manners habitual to us. Of 
th'is 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 circumstances. By physical causes I mean 
those qualities of the air and climate, which are supposed 
to work insensibly on the temper, by altering the tone and 
habit of the body, and giving a particular complexion, which, 
though reflection and reason may sometimes overcome it, 
will yet prevail among the generality of mankind, 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 

1 [This Essay was first published in Edition D.] 



OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 245 

the manners 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 temper and genius, and must banish all the 
liberal arts from among them. 1 

The same principle of moral causes fixes the character of 
different 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 operation is eternal and unalterable. 

The uncertainty of their life makes soldiers lavish and 
generous, 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 company, they acquire good breeding and an open- 
ness of behaviour : Being employed only against a public 
and an open enemy, they become candid, honest, and unde- 
signing : And as they use more the labour of the body than 
that of the mind, they are commonly thoughtless and ig- 
norant. 2 

It is a trite, but not altogether a false maxim, that priests 
of all religions are the same ; and though the character of 
the profession will not, in every instance, prevail over the 
personal character, yet it is 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 what- 
ever material they be extracted ; so these men, being elevated 
above humanity, acquire a uniform character, which is en- 
tirely 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, opposite to that of a 
soldier ; as is the way of life, from which it is derived. 3 

1 [Editions D to P add : Instances of This seems to me a presumption, that 
this nature are very frequent in the the ancients owed all their refinement 
world.] and civility to books and study ; for 

2 It is a saying of Menander, which, indeed, a soldier's life is not so 
Ko/x^/hs <Tpa.Ti<i>TT)s, ovS' Uv el TrAdrrei debs well calculated. Company and the 
OvBels yevon' &v\ Men. apud Stob^cum. world is their sphere. And if there he 
It is not in the power even of God to any politeness to be learned from com- 
make a polite soldier. The contrary ob- pany, they will certainly have a con- 
servation with regard to the manners siderable share of it. 

of soldiers takes place in our days. 3 Though all mankind have a strong 



246 



ESSAY XXL 



As to physical causes, I am inclined to doubt altogether ol 
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 



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, hap- 
pen, that clergymen, being drawn from 
the 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 fervor and serious- 
ness, even when jaded with the exer- 
cises of their religion, or when they 
have their minds engaged in the com- 
mon occupations of life. They must 
not, like the rest of the world, give 
scope to their natural movements and 
sentiments: They must set a 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 remarkable reserve, but 
must promote the spirit of superstition, 
by a continued grimace and hypocrisy. 
This dissimulation often destroys the 
candor and ingenuity of their temper, 
and makes an irreparable breach in 
their character. 

If by chance any of them be pos- 
sessed of a temper more susceptible of 
devotion than usual, 60 that he has but 
little occasion for hypocrisy to support 
the character of his profession ; it is so 
natural for him to over-rate this ad- 
vantage, and to think that it atones for 
every violation of morality, that fre- 
quently he is not more virtuous than 
the hypocrite. And though few dare 
openly avow those exploded opinions, 
that every thing is lawful to the saints, 
and that they alone have property in 
their goods ; yet may we observe, that 
these principles lurk in every bosom, 
and represent a zeal for religious obser- 
vances as so great a merit, that it may 
compensate for many vices and enormi- 
ties. This observation is so common, 
that all prudent men are on their guard, 
when they meet with any extraordinary 
appearance of religion ; though at the 
ame 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 incompatible. 

Most men are ambitious; but the 
ambition of other men may commonly 
be satisfied, by excelling in their par- 
ticular profession, and thereby promo- 
ting 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, (namely, 
another world, on which he could fix 
his engines) no wonder they move this 
world at their pleasure. 

Most men have an overweening con- 
ceit 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 pro- 
fession ; 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 clergy- 
men of the same religion ; where the 
whole body gains by the veneration, 
paid to their common tenets, and by the 
suppression of antagonists. 

Few men can bear contradiction with 
patience ; but the clergy too often pro- 
ceed even to a degree of fury on this 
head : Because all their credit and live- 
lihood depend upon the belief, which 
their opinions meet with ; and they 
alone pretend to a divine and super- 
natural authority, or have any colour 
for representing their antagonists as 
impious and prophane. The Odium 
Theologicum, or Theological Hatred, is 
noted even to a proverb, and means 
that degree of rancour, which is the 
most furious and implacable. 

Revenge is a natural passion toman- 
kind ; but seems to reign with the 
greatest force in priests and women : 
Because, being deprived of the imme- 
diate exertion of anger, in violence and 
combat, they are apt to fancy them- 
selves despised on that account; and 



OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 



m 



first sight, seem probable ; since we find, that these circum- 
stances 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 gamecocks seems pecu- 
liar 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 qualities, which they 
derived from their native climate. It may be asked, why 
not the same with men ? l 

There are few questions more curious than this, or which 
will offcener occur in our enquiries concerning human 



their pride supports their vindictive 
disposition. [This paragraph was added 
in Edition K.] 

Thus many of the vices of human 
nature are, by fixed moral causes, in- 
flamed in that possession ; and though 
several individuals escape the conta- 
gion, yet all "wise governments will be 
on their guard against the attempts of 
a society, who will for ever combine 
into one faction, and while it acts as a 
society, will for ever be actuated by am- 
bition, pride, revenge, and a persecuting 
spirit. 

The temper of religion is grave and 
serious ; and this is the character re- 
quired 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 per- 
mitted in that body ; and this virtue is, 
perhaps, the only one which they owe 
to their profession. In religions, in- 
deed, founded on speculative principles, 
and where public discourses make a 
part 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 rea- 
soning and philosophy. But whoever 
possesses 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 it a 
law that no one should be received into 
the sacerdotal office, till he was past 
fifty years of age, Dion. Hal. lib. ii. 21. 
The living a layman till that age, it is 
presumed, would be able to fix the cha- 
racter. [This paragraph was added in 
Edition K] 

1 Caesar (de Bell. Gallico, lib. 4. 2.) 
says that the Gallic horses were very 
good ; the German very bad. We find 
in lib. 7. 65. that he was obliged to re- 
mount some German cavalry with 
Gallic horses. At present, 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 ani- 
mals 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 in the world. In 
the neighbouring counties, north side 
the Tweed, no good horses of any kind 
are to be met with. Strabo, lib. 2. 103. 
rejects, in a great measure, the influence 
of climate 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. [This note is not in 
Edition D.] 



[This paragraph is not in Edition D.] 



248 ESSAY XXI. 

affairs ; and therefore it may be proper to give it a full ex- 
amination. 

The human mind is of a very imitative nature ; nor is it 
possible for any set of men to converse often together, with- 
out acquiring a similitude of manners, and communicating 
to each other their vices as well as virtues. The propensity 
to company and society is strong in all rational creatures ; 
and the same disposition, which gives us this propensity, 
makes us enter deeply into each other's sentiments, and 
causes like passions and inclinations 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, together with the 
same speech or language, they must acquire a resemblance in 
their manners, and have a common or national character, 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 pre- 
sumed to predominate, even in those contracted societies, 
and that the same proportions will always be preserved in 
the mixture ; yet surely the persons in credit and authority, 
being still a more contracted body, cannot always be pre- 
sumed to be of the same character ; and their influence on 
the manners of the people, must, at all times, be very con- 
siderable. If on the first establishment of a republic, a 
Brutus 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 a deeper tincture of the 
game dye ; men being more susceptible of all impressions 



OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 249 

during infancy, and retaining these impressions as long as 
they remain in the world. I assert, then, that all national 
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, 
1 It is a maxim in all philosophy, that causes which 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 con- 
tagion of manners, none of the influence of air or climate. 

First. We may observe, that, where a very extensive 
government has been established for many centuries, it 
spreads a national 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 varia- 
tions. 

Secondly. In small governments, which are contiguous, the 
people 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 jour- 
ney from each other ; though the Athenians were as remark- 
able for ingenuity, politeness, and gaiety, as the Thebans 
for dulness, rusticity, and a phlegmatic temper. Plutaech, 
discoursing of the effects of air on the minds of men, observes, 
that the inhabitants of the Piileum 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 crossing a river or passing a mountain, one finds a new 
set of manners, with a new government. The Langttedo- 
cians and Gascons 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 mar- 
riages ? 

1 [This sentence was added in Edition Q.] 



260 ESSAY XXL 

Fourthly. Where any set of men, scattered over distant 
nations, 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 character ; and the former are as much noted for 
fraud, as the latter for probity. 1 The Jesuits, in all Roman- 
catholic countries, are also observed to have a character pe- 
culiar 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 centuries, a distinct and even opposite set of manners. 
The integrity, 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 the 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 con- 
siderably from one age to another, either by great alterations 
in their government, by the mixtures of new people, or by 
that inconstancy, 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 inhabitants of those regions. Candour, bravery, and 
love of liberty formed the character of the ancient Eomans ; 
as subtilty, cowardice, 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. 2 One would 
find an equal difficulty at present, (at least one would have 
found it fifty years ago) to rouze up the modern Spaniards 
to arms. The Batavians were all soldiers of fortune, and 

1 A small sect or society amidst a infamy on the smaller society, inde- 

greater are commonly most regular in pendent of their morals. For in that 

their morals ; because they are more case, having no character either to save 

remarked, and the faults of individuals or gain, they become careless of their 

draw dishonour on the whole. The only behaviour, except among themselves, 

exception to this rule is, when the super- [This note was added in Edition K.] 
stition and prejudices of the large s Tit. Livii, lib. xxxiv. cap. 17. 

society are so strong as to throw an 




OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 251 

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 CLesar 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 difference between 
the present possessors of Britain, and those before 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 en- 
thusiasm, and are now settled into the most cool indifference 
with regard 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 pro- 
vinces, which are not distinguishable, except by an ear ac- 
customed to them, and which commonly escape a foreigner. 

Ninthly. We may often remark a wonderful mixture of 
manners and characters in the same nation, speaking the 
same language, and subject to the same government : And 
in this particular 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 cli- 
mate, or to any other 'physical 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 monarchical, it is more 
apt to have the same effect ; the imitation of superiors spread- 
ing the national manners faster among the people. If the 
governing part of a state consist altogether of merchants, as 
in Holland, their uniform way of life will fix their character. 
If it consists chiefly of nobles and landed gentry, like Ger- 
many, France, and Spain, the same effect follows. The 
genius of a particular sect or religion is also apt to mould 

1 [This sentence was added in Edition K.] 



252 ESSAY XXI. 

the manners of a people. But the English government is a 
mixture of monarchy, 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 independency, which every man enjoys, al- 
lows 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 depend 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 attain- 
ments 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 certain, that the charac- 
ters of nations are very promiscuous in the temperate cli- 
mates, 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 fal- 
lacious. 1 

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 remarkable for gaiety. The Spaniards, Turks, and 

1 I am apt to suspect the negroes, so many countries and ages, if nature 

and in general all the other species of had not made an original distinction 

men (for there are four or five different betwixt these breeds of men. Not to 

kinds) to be naturally inferior to the mention our colonies, there are Negrob 

whites. There never was a civilized slaves dispersed all over Europe, of 

nation of any other complexion than which none ever discovered any symp- 

white, nor even any individual eminent toms of ingenuity ; tho' low people, 

either in action or speculation. No without education, will start up amongst 

ingenious manufactures amongst them, us, and distinguish themselves in every 

no arts, no sciences. On the other profession. In Jamaica indeed they 

hand, the most rude and barbarous of talk of one negroe as a man of parts 

the whites, such as the ancient Ger- and learning ; but 'tis likely he is ad- 

mans, the present Tartars, have still mired for very slender accomplishments, 

something eminent about them, in their like a parrot, who spoaks a few words 

valour, form of government, or some plainly. [This note was added in Kdi- 

other particular. Such a uniform and tion K.] 
constant difference could not happen, in 



OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 253 

Chinese are noted for gravity and a serious deportment, 
without any such difference of climate as to produce this dif- 
ference of temper. 

The Greeks and Bomans, who called all other nations 
barbarians, confined genius and a fine understanding to 
the more southern climates, and pronounced the northern 
nations incapable of all knowledge and civility. But our 
island has produced as great men, either for action or learn- 
ing, as Greece or Italy has to boast of. 

It is pretended, that the sentiments of men become more 
delicate 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 ob- 
serve of the languages, 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 on the manners 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 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 improve- 
ments, which happen in the manners of a people, the less can 
be expected in their language. A few eminent and refined 
geniuses will communicate 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. higher pitch than can be reached by the southern wits. 
This observation a late l writer confirms, by comparing the 
southern wits to cucumbers, which are commonly all good in 

1 Dr. Berkeley : Minute Philosopher. 



254 ESSAY XXI. 

their kind ; but at best are an insipid fruit : While the nor- 
thern 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 
Eueopean nations, and to the present 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 emu- 
lation 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 everywhere, and 
begot an. universal esteem for the sciences : After which it 
is no wonder, that industry relaxes ; while men meet not with 
suitable encouragement, nor arrive at such distinction by 
their attainments. The universal diffusion of learning 
among a people, and the entire banishment of gross igno- 
rance and rusticity, is, therefore, seldom attended with any 
remarkable perfection in particular persons. J It seems to be 
taken for granted in the dialogue de Oratoribus, that know- 
ledge was much more common in Vespasian's age than in 
that of Cicero and Augustus. Quintilian also complains 
of the profanation of learning, by its becoming too common. 
1 Formerly,' says Juvenal, ' science was confined to 
Greece and Italy. Now the whole world emulates Athens 
and Eome. Eloquent Gaul has taught Britain, knowing in 
the laws. Even Thule entertains thoughts of hiring rheto- 
ricians for its instruction.' 2 This state of learning is re- 
markable ; 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 us information. I hope the late conversion 
of Muscovy to the study of the sciences will not prove a like 
prognostic to the present period of learning. 

Cardinal Bentivoglio gives the preference to the northern 
nations above the southern with regard to candour and sin- 

1 [This sentence and the next were Nunc totns Graias, nostrasque habet 
added in Edition K.] orbis Athenas. 

Gaixia causidicos docuit facunda Bri- 
5 " Sod Cantaber unde tannos: 

Stoicus? antiqui prsesertim aetate Me- De conducendo loquitur jam rhetore 
telli. Thcle." Sat. 15. 108. 



OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 255 

cerity ; 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 arisen from fixed causes, we may 
only conclude from it, that all extremes are apt to concur, 
and are commonly attended with the same consequences. 
Treachery is the usual concomitant of ignorance and bar- 
barism; and if civilised 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 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 north- 
wards upon all the fertile provinces of the Soman empire ; 
and met the Turks half way, who were coming southwards 
from the deserts of Tartary. 

An eminent writer ! has remarked, that all courageous ani- 
mals are also carnivorous, and that greater courage is to be ex- 
pected in a people, such as the English, whose food is strong 
and hearty, than in the half-starved commonalty of other 
countries. But the Swedes, notwithstanding their disadvan- 
tages in this particular, 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 
qualities, is the most precarious ; because it is exerted only 
at intervals, and by a few in every nation ; whereas industry, 
knowledge, civility, may be of constant and universal use, 
and for several ages, may become habitual to the whole 
people. If courage be preserved, it must be by discipline, 
example, and opinion. The tenth legion of (Xesar, and the 
regiment of Picardt 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 
observe, that, of the two chief tribes of the Greeks, the 

1 Sir William Temple's account of the Netherlands. 



256 ESSAY XXI. 

Dorians, and Ionians, the former were always esteemed, 
and always appeared 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 ^Egean sea. The 
Athenians were the only Ionians that ever had any reputa- 
tion for valour or military achievements ; though even these 
were deemed inferior to the Lacedemonians, the bravest of 
the Dorians. 

The only observation, with regard to the difference of men 
in different climates, on which we can rest any weight, is 
the vulgar one, that people in the northern regions have a 
greater inclination to strong liquors, and those in the south- 
ern 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 
causes. All strong liquors are rarer in the north, and con- 
sequently 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 further 
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 
govern this passion, with one who feels not its violence till 
she be seventeen or eighteen. * Nothing so much encourages 

* Lib. v. 26. The same author ascribes says, that the Gatjls are the only 

taciturnity to that people ; a new proof warlike nation, who are negligent of 

that national characters may alter very women. 

much. ' Taciturnity, as a national cha- 2 [This sentence was added in Edi- 

racter, implies unsociableness. Abis- tion R.] 
toti.k in his Politics, book ii. cap. 9. 



1 [This sentence was added in Edition K ; and the next in Edition M.] 



OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 257 

the passion of love as ease and leisure, or is more destructive 
to it than industry and hard labour ; and as the necessities 
of men are evidently fewer in the warm climates than in the 
cold ones, this circumstance alone may make a considerable 
difference between them. 

But perhaps the fact is doubtful, that nature has, either 
from moral or physical causes, distributed these respective 
inclinations 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 altogether apart from the fair. Yet when Alex- 
ander led the Greeks into Persia, a still more southern 
climate, they multiplied their debauches of this kind, in 
imitation of the Persian manners. 1 So honourable was the 
character of a drunkard among the Persians, that Cyrus 
the younger, soliciting the sober Lacedemonians for succour 
against his brother Artaxerxes, claims it chiefly on ac- 
count of his superior endowments, as more valorous, more 
bountiful, and a better drinker. 2 Darius Hystaspes made 
it be inscribed on his tombstone, 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, evaporated 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 disposi- 
tion, no people were more jealous than the Muscovites, 
before their communication with Europf Uad somewhat 
altered their manners in this particular. 

But supposing the fact true, that nature, by physical prin- 
ciples, has regularly distributed these two passions, the one 
to 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 

1 Babtlonii maxime in vinum, # qua Cor. lib. v. cap. i. 
ebrietatem sequuntur, effusi sunt. Quint. 3 Plut. Symp. lib. i. quaest. 4. 

VOL. III. S 



258 ESSAY XXH. 

finer organs, on which the operations of the mind and un- 
derstanding 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, spirit, and swiftness : But a cox- 
comb 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 refinement ; yet this gives not so great an 
advantage to the southern 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 inter- 
course 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 observe, 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 endowments of the 
fair sex. 

1 Essay XXII. Of Tragedy. 

It seems an unaccountable pleasure, which the spectators of 
a well- written tragedy receive from sorrow, terror, anxiety, 
and other passions, that are in themselves disagreeable and 
uneasy. The more they are touched and affected, the more 
are they delighted with the spectacle ; and as soon as the 
uneasy passions cease to operate, the piece is at an end. 
One scene of full joy and contentment and security is the 
utmost, that any composition of this kind can bear ; and it 
is sure always to be the concluding one. If, in the texture 
of the piece, there be interwoven any scenes of satisfaction, 
they afford only faint gleams of pleasure, which are thrown 
in by way of variety, and in order to plunge the actors into 
deeper distress, by means of that contrast and disappoint- 
ment. The whole heart of the poet is employed, in rouzing 
and supporting the compassion and indignation, the anxiety 
and resentment of his audience. They are pleased in pro- 
I portion as they are afflicted, and never are so happy as when 
they employ tears, sobs, and cries to give vent to their sor- 

1 [This Essay WM first published in Edition L.] 



OF TKAGEDY. 259 

row, and relieve their heart, swoln with the tenderest sym- 
pathy and compassion. 

The few critics who have had some tincture of philosophy, 
have remarked this singular phenomenon, and have en- 
deavoured to account for it. 

L'Abbe Dubos, in his reflections on poetry and painting, 
asserts, that nothing is in general so disagreeable to the 
mind as the languid, listless state of indolence, into which 
it falls upon the removal of all passion and occupation. To 
get rid of this painful situation, it seeks every amusement 
and pursuit ; business, gaming, shews, executions ; what- 
ever will rouze the passions, and take its attention from it- 
self. No matter what the passion is : Let it be disagreeable, 
afflicting, melancholy, disordered ; 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 several 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 entertain- 
ment. 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 medi- 
tations. 

We find that common liars always magnify, in their nar- 
rations, all kinds of danger, pain, distress, sickness, deaths, 
murders, and cruelties ; as well as joy, beauty, mirth, and 
magnificence. 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 
subject, in its full extent, this solution, however ingenious 
and satisfactory it may appear. It is certain, that the sained 
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. Monsieur Fontenelle seems to have been sen* 

s 2 



260 ESSAY XXU. 

sible of this difficulty; and accordingly attempts another 
solution of the phenomenon ; at least makes some addition 
to the theory above mentioned. 1 

* Pleasure and pain,' says he, ' which are two sentiments 
so different in themselves, differ not so much in their cause. 
From the instance of tickling, it appears, that the move- 
ment of pleasure, pushed a little too far, becomes pain ; and 
that the movement of pain, a little moderated, becomes plea- 
sure. 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 circum- 
stance. It is certain, that, on the theatre, the representation 
has almost the effect of reality ; yeb 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 misfortune of a hero, to whom 
we are attached. In the same instant we comfort ourselves, 
by reflecting, that it is nothing but a fiction : And it is pre- 
cisely that mixture of sentiments, which composes an agree- 
able 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 sorrow, 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 phenomenon, which we here examine. All the 
passions, excited by eloquence, are agreeable in the highest 
degree, as well as those which are moved by painting and 
the theatre. The epilogues 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 thi3 particular. When he had raised tears in 

1 Reflexions sur la poetique, 36. 



OF TRAGEDY. 261 

his judges and all his audience, they were then the most 
highly delighted, and expressed the greatest satisfaction with 
the pleader. The pathetic description of the butchery, made 
by Yerres 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 enter- 
tainment. Neither is the sorrow here softened by fiction : 
For the audience were convinced of the reality of every cir- 
cumstance. 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 repre- 
sented. The genius required to paint objects in a lively 
manner, the art employed in collecting all the pathetic cir- 
cumstances, the judgment 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 audience, and excite the most 
delightful movements. By this means, the uneasiness of 
the melancholy passions is not only overpowered and effaced 
by something stronger of an opposite kind ; but th e whol e 
impulse of those passions is converted into pleasure, and 
swells the" delight" which the eloquence raises in us. The 
same force of oratory, employed on an uninteresting subject, 
would not please half so much, or rather would appear alto- 
gether 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 
it such exquisite entertainment. The impulse or vehemence, 
arising from sorrow, compassion, indignation, receives a new 
direction from t he sent iments 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, rouzed 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 



262 ESSAY XXII. 

fto 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. 1 The affection, rouzing the mind, excites a 
large stock of spirit and vehemence; which is all trans- 
formed into pleasure by the force of the prevailing move- 
t ment. It is thus the fiction of tragedy softens 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 gradua- 
tions will it ever give pleasure ; except, perhaps, by accident, 
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 dif- 
ferent, and even sometimes though of a contrary nature. 

Novelty naturally rouzes the mind, and attracts our atten- 
tion ; and the movements, which it causes, are always con- 
verted into any passion, belonging to the object, and join 
their force -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 agreeable, it fortifies the painful, as well 
as agreeable passions. 

Had you any intention to move a person extremely by the 
narration of any event, the best method of encreasing its 
effect would be artfully to delay informing him of it, and 
first to excite his curiosity and impatience before you let him 
into the secret. This is the artifice practised by Iago in the 
famous scene of Shakespeare ; and every spectator is sensi- 
ble, that Othello's jealousy acquires additional force from 
his preceding impatience, and that the subordinate passion 
is here readily transformed into the predominant one. 

Difficulties encrease passions of every kind ; and by rouz- 

1 Painters make no scruple of repre- one instant ; and if that be passionate 

senting distress and sorrow as well as enough, it is sure to affect and delight 

any other passion : But they seem not the spectator : But nothing can furnish 

to dwell so much on these melancholy to the poet a variety of scenes and inci- 

affections as the poets, who, tho' they dents and sentiments, except distress, 

copy every emotion of the human breast, terror, or anxiety. Compl^aJ joy and 

yet pass very quickly over tho agreeable satisfaction is attended with security, 

sentiments. A paiuter represents only and leaves no farther room for action. 






OJK TRAGEDY 263 

ing our attention, and exciting our active powers, they pro- 
duce an emotion, which nourishes the prevailing affection. 

Parents commonly love that child most, whose sickly in- ^-y 
firm frame of body has occasioned them the greatest pains, 
trouble, and anxiety in rearing him. The_a^reejMe_snli=. 
ment of affection here_aca^res_^^ of un- 

easiness. 

Nothing endears so much a friend as sorrow for his 
death. The pleasure of his company has not so powerful an 
influence. idf'*\ 

Jealousy is a painful passion; yet without some share of 
it, the agreeable affection of love has difficulty to subsist in . Px , 
its full force and violence. Absence is also a great source of 
complaint among lovers, and gives them the greatest uneasi- ' f . 
ness : Yet nothing is more favourable to their mutual pas-j^^V 1 
sion 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. l 
Jealousy and absence in love compose the dolce peccante of the 
Italians, which they suppose 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 
Aeistides, the Tyndakides of Nicomaohus, the Medea of 
Timomachtjs, 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 care- 
fully studied ; and our very grief for that curious hand, which 
had been stopped by death, is an additional encrease to our 
pleasure. 1 

These instances (and many more might be collected) are 
sufficient 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 \ 

1 Illud vero perquam rarum ac memo- tione esse quam perfecta. Quippe in 

ria dignum, etiam suprema opera arti- iis lirteamenta reliqua, ipsseque cogita- 

ficum, imperfectasque tabulas, sicut, tiones artificum spectantur, atque in 

Ibin Aristidis, Tyndaridas Nicomachi, lenocinio commendationis dolor est 

Medeam Timomachi, & quam diximus manus, cum id ageret, extinctae. Lib. 

Veneres! Apellis, in majori admira- xxxv. cap. 11. 



'64 ESSAY XXU. 

of expression, the power of numbers, the charms of imita- 
tion; all these are naturally, of themselves, delightful to 
the mind : And when the object presented lays also hold of 
some affection, the pleasure still rises upon us, by the con- 
version 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 
may be painful ; yet is so smoothed, and softened, and 
mollified, when raised by the finer arts, that it affords the 
highest entertainment. 

To confirm this reasoning, we may observe, that if the 

l&novements 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 encreases the pain and affliction of the 

sufferer. 

Who could ever think of it as a good expedient for com- 
forting an afflicted parent, to exaggerate, with all the force 
of elocution, the irreparable loss, which he has met with by 
the death of a favourite child 9 The more power of imagina- 
tion and expression 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 forme* 
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, com- 
passion, and indignation of the audience. 

Lord Clarendon, when he approaches towards the catas- 
trophe 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 aver- 
sion. He himself, as well as the readers of that age, were 
too deeply concerned in the events, and felt a pain from sub- 
jects, which an historian and a reader of another age would 
regard as the most pathetic and most interesting, and, by 
consequence, the most agreeable. x 

An action, represented in tragedy, may be too bloody and 
atrocious. It may excite such movements of horror ae will 



207 
OF TRAGEDY. 

not soften into pleasure ; and the greatest energy of expres- 
sion, bestowed on descriptions of that nature, serves only to 
augment 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 
softened 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 oppres- 
sion of vice, forms a disagreeable spectacle, and is carefully 
avoided by all masters of the drama. In order to dismiss f\ 
the audience with entire satisfaction and contentment, the 
virtue must either convert itself into a noble courageous 
despair, or the vice receive its proper punishment. 

Most painters appear in this light to have been very un- 
happy in their subjects. As they wrought much for churches 
and convents, they have chiefly represented such horrible 
subjects as crucifixions and martyrdoms, where nothing ap- 
pears but tortures, wounds, executions, and passive suffering, 
without any action or affection. When they turned their 
pencil from this ghastly mythology, they had commonly re- 
course to Ovid, whose fictions, though passionate and agree- 
able, 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. Eaise 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. 

What so disagreeable as the dismal, gloomy, disastrous 
stories, with which melancholy people entertain their com- 
panions ? The uneasy passion being there raised alone, un- 
accompanied with any spirit, genius, or eloquence, conveys a 
pure uneasiness, and is attended with nothing that can soften 
it into pleasure or satisfaction. 



J64 essay xxm. 



1 Essay XXIII. 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 prejudices. But those, who can enlarge their view 
to contemplate distant nations and remote ages, are still 
more surprized at the great inconsistence and contrariety. 
We are apt to call barbarous whatever departs widely from 
our own taste and apprehension : 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 own favour. 

As this variety of taste is obvious to the most careless 
enquirer ; so will it be found, on examination, to be still 
greater in reality 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, propriety, simplicity, spirit in writing ; 
and in blaming fustian, affectation, 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 expressions. In all matters 
I of opinion and science, the case is opposite : The difference 
I among men is there offcener 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 surprized to find, that they had been 
quarrelling, while at bottom they agreed in their judgment. 
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 

1 [This Essay w;is first published in Edition L.] 



OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 207 

obvious, that writers of all nations and all ages concur in 
applauding justice, humanity, magnanimity, prudence, vera- 
city ; 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 
sentiments in all men, and prevents those controversies, to 
which the abstract sciences are so much exposed. So far as 
the unanimity is real, this account may be admitted as satis- 
factory : But we must also allow that some part of the seem- 
ing harmony in morals may be accounted for from the very 1 
nature of language. The word virtue, with its equivalent in 
every tongue, implies praise ; as that of vice does blame :_ 
And no one, without the most obvious and grossest impro- 
priety, 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 contro- 
verted; but it is obvious, that, when he draws particular 
pictures of manners, and represents heroism in Achilles and 
prudence in Ulysses, he intermixes a much greater degree 
of ferocity in the former, and of cunning and fraud in the 
latter, than Fenelon would admit of. The sage Ulysses in 
the Greek poet seems to delight in lies and fictions, and 
often employs them without any necessity or even advantage : 
But his more scrupulous son, in the French epic writer, ex- 
poses 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 
excellent moral precepts interspersed throughout that wild 
and absurd performance. But it is to be supposed, that the 
Arabic words, which correspond to the English, equity, 
justice, temperance, 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 



268 ESSAY XXm. 

narration ; and we shall soon find, that he bestows praise on 
such instances of treachery, inhumanity, cruelty, revenge, 
bigotry, as are utterly incompatible with civilized society. 
No steady rule of right seems there to be attended to ; and 
every action is blamed or praised, so far only as it is bene- 
ficial or hurtful to the true believers. 

The merit of delivering true general precepts in ethics is 
indeed very small. Whoever recommends any moral virtues, 
really 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 effica- 
ciously, the precept, be charitable, than any pretended legis- 
lator or prophet, who should insert such a maxim in his 
writings. Of all expressions, those, which, together with 
their other meaning, imply a degree either of blame or appro- 
bation, 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, 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 

i 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 be- 
yond themselves, to wit, real matter of fact; and are not 
always conformable to that standard. Among a thousand 

\ different opinions which different 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 marks a certain conformity 
or relation between the object and the organs or faculties of 
the mind ; and if that conformity did not really exist, the 

f sentiment could never possibly have being. Beauty is no 
quality in things themselves: It exists merely in the 
mind which contemplates them ; and each mind perceives 
a different beauty. One person may even perceive deformity, 



OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 269 

where another is sensible 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 de- 
formity, is as fruitless an enquiry, as to pretend to ascertain 
the real sweet or real bitter. According to the disposition of 
the organs, the same object may be both sweet and bitter ; 
and the proverb has justly determined it to be fruitless to 
dispute concerning tastes. It is very natural, and even quite 
necessary, to extend this axiom to mental, 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. ^- { 

But though this axiom, by passing into a proverb, seems to ! 
have attained the sanction of common sense ; there is certainly 
a species of common sense which opposes it, at least serves 
to modify and restrain it. Whoever would assert an equality 
of genius and elegance between Ogilbt and Milton, or 
Bunyan 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 without scruple the senti- 
ment 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 extravagant 
paradox, or rather a palpable absurdity, where objects so dis- 
proportioned are compared together. 

It is evident that none of the rules of composition are 
fixed by reasonings a priori, or can be esteemed abstract con- 
clusions 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 It 
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 per- 
version of terms from their natural meaning. To check the 
sallies of the imagination, and to reduce every expression to 



270 ESSAY XXm. 

geometrical truth and exactness, would be the most contrary 
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 sub- 
mit to exact truth, it must be confined by rules of art, dis- 
covered to the author either by genius or observation. If 
some negligent or irregular writers have pleased, they have 
not pleased by their transgressions of rule or order, but in 
spite of these transgressions : They have possessed other 
'beauties, which were conformable to just criticism ; and the 
force of these beauties has been able to overpower censure, 
and give the mind a satisfaction superior 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 his narration. 
He charms by the force and clearness of his expression, by 
the readiness 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 universally blame- 
able. If they are found to please, they cannot be faults ; let 
the pleasure, which they produce, be ever so unexpected 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 occa- 
sion, the feelings of men will be conformable to these rules. 
Those finer emotions of the mind are of a very tender and 
delicate nature, and require the. concurrence of many favour- 
able circumstances to make them play with facility and 
exactness, according to their general and established princi- 
ples. The least exterior hindrance to such small springs, or 
the least internal disorder, disturbs their motion, and con- 
founds 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 



OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 271 

proper time and place, and bring the fancy to a suitable 
situation and disposition. (A perfect serenity of mind, a re- 
collection of thought, a due attention to the object ; if any 
of these circumstances be wanting, our experiment will 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 
obscure ; 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 
durable admiration, which attends those works, that have 
survived all the caprices of mode and fashion, all the mis- 
takes of ignorance and envy. 

The same Homer, who pleased at Athens and Eome two 
thousand years ago, is still admired at Paris and at London. 
All the changes of climate, government, religion, and lan- 
guage, 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 compositions are examined by posterity or by 
foreigners, the enchantment 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 admiration 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 natu- 
rally fitted to excite agreeable sentiments, immediately dis- 
play their energy ; and while the world endures, they maintain 
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 opera- 
tions of the mind. Some particular forms or qualities, from 
the original 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 imperfection in the organ. A man in a fever would 
not insist on his 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 



I 



272 ESSAY XX1H. 

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 sentiment 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 prin- 
ciples, on which depends our sentiment of beauty or deformity. 
Though some objects, by the structure of the mind, be natu- 
rally calculated to give pleasure, it is not to be expected, that 
in every individual the pleasure will be equally felt. Parti- 
cular incidents and situations occur, which either throw a 
false light on the objects, or hinder the true from conveying 
to the imagination the proper sentiment and perception. 

One obvious cause, 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 senti- 
ment, 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 profound 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 
is a quality hereditary in our family. Two of my kinsmen 
were once called to give their opinion of a hogshead, which 
was supposed to be excellent, being old and of a good vintage. 
One of them tastes it ; considers it ; and after mature reflec- 
tion pronounces 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. 



OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 273 

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 qualities in objects, but belong entirely to the sentiment, 
internal or external ; it must be allowed, that there are cer- 
tain qualities in objects, which are fitted by nature to produce 
those particular 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 meta- 
phorical sense. Here then the general rules of beauty are of 
use ; being drawn from established models, and from the 
observation of what pleases or displeases, when presented I 
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 uneasiness, we exclude the 
person from all pretensions to this delicacy. To produce 
these general rules or avowed patterns of composition is like 
finding the key with the leathern thong; which justified the 
verdict of Sancho's kinsmen, and confounded those pretended 
judges who had condemned them. Though the hogshead 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 J 
been methodized, or reduced to general principles ; though 
no excellent models had ever been acknowledged ; the dif- 
ferent 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, l 
he acknowledges to be conformable to the principle ; when I 
we prove, that the same principle may be applied to the pre- 1 

VOL. III. T 



274 ESSAY XXIH. 

sent 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 com- 
position 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 
smaller 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, notwithstanding its minuteness and its 
confusion with the rest. In like manner, a quick and acute 
perception of beauty and deformity 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 dis- 
course has passed him unobserved. In this case, the perfec- 
tion of the man, and the perfection of the sense or feeling, 
are found to be united. A very delicate palate, on man} r oc- 
casions, 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 
delicacy of taste, it is sure to meet with approbation ; and 
the best way of ascertaining it is to appeal to those models 
and principles, 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 particular art, and the frequent survey or contemplation of 
a particular species of beauty. When objects of any kind 
are first presented 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 excellences of the performance; much less distin- 
guish the particular character of each excellency, and ascer- 
tain its quality and degree. If it pronounce the whole in 



OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 275 

general to be beautiful or deformed, it is the utmost that can 
be expected ; and even this judgment, a person, so unprac- 
tised, will be apt to deliver with great hesitation and reserve 
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 dis- 
tinguishing 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 naturally fitted to produce. The mist 
dissipates, which seemed formerly to hang over the object : 
The organ acquires greater perfection in its operations ; and 
can pronounce, without danger 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 also 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 impor- 
tance, it will even be requisite, that that very individual 
performance be more than once perused by us, and be sur- 
veyed in different lights with attention and deliberation. 
There is a flutter or hurry of thought which attends the first 
perusal of any piece, and which confounds the genuine senti- 
ment of beauty. The relation 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 themselves indistinctly to the im- 
agination. 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 expression either of 
reason or passion, soon palls upon the taste, and is then 
rejected with disdain, at least rated at a much lower value. 

It is impossible to continue in the practice of contemplat- 
ing any order of beauty, without being frequently obliged to 
form comparisons between the several species and degrees of | 
excellence, 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 
comparison alone we fix the epithets of praise or blame, and 

T 2. 



276 ESSAY XXm. 

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 peasant or Indian with the highest admiration. 
The most vulgar ballads are not entirely destitute of har- 
mony or nature; and none but a person, familiarized to 
superior beauties, would pronounce 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 pronounced a deformity : As the 
most finished object, with which we are acquainted, is na- 
turally 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 only 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 under- 
taking, he must preserve his mind free from all prejudice, and 
allow 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 re- 
quired by the performance. An orator addresses himself to 
a particular audience, and must have a regard to their par- 
ticular genius, interests, opinions, passions, and prejudices ; 
otherwise he hopes in vain to govern their resolutions, and 
inflame their affections. Should they even have entertained 
some prepossessions against him, however unreasonable, he 
must not overlook this disadvantage ; but, before he enters 
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 author, I must depart from this situa- 
tion ; and considering myself as a man in general, forget, if 
possible, my individual being and my peculiar circumstances. 



OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 277 

A person influenced by prejudice, complies not with this 
condition ; but obstinately maintains his 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 
calculated. If the work be executed for the public, he never 
sufficiently 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 blemishes the same influence upon him, as if 
he had imposed a proper violence on his imagination, and 
had forgotten himself for a moment. So far his taste eviH 
dently departs from the true standard ; and of consequence J 
loses all credit and authority. 

It is well known, that in all questions, submitted to the \ 
understanding, 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 influence in both cases ; and in this respect, as 
well as in many others, reasun, if not an essential part of 
taste, is at least requisite to the operations of this latter 
faculty. In all the nobler productions of genius, there is a 
mutual relation and correspondence of parts ; nor can either 
the beauties or blemishes be perceived by him, whose 
thought is not capacious enough to comprehend all those 
parts, and compare them with each other, in order to per- 
ceive 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 
more 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 per- 
formance ; and we must be able to judge how far the means 
employed are adapted to their respective purposes. Besides, 
every idnd 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, 



278 ESSAY XXIII. 

however disguised by the colouring of the imagination. 
The persons introduced 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 excellence of faculties which con- 
tributes 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 experience 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 under- 
standing. 

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 sentiment as the standard of beauty. The organs I 
of internal sensation are seldom so perfect as to allow the! 
general principles their full play, and produce a feeling cor- \* 
respondent 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 er- 
roneous. When the critic has no delicacy, he judges with- 
out any distinction, and is only affected by 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 hesita- 
tion. Where no comparison has been employed, the most 
frivolous beauties, such as rather merit the name of defects, 
are the object of his admiration. Where he lies under the 
influence of prejudice, all his natural sentiments are per- 
verted. Where good sense is wanting, he is not qualified to 
discern the beauties of design and reasoning, which are 
the highest and most excellent. Under some or other of 
these imperfections, the generality of men labour; 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, 
perfected by comparison, and cleared of all prejudice, can 
alone entitle critics to this valuable character ; and the joint 



OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 279 

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 pre- 
tenders? 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 discussion 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 acknow- 
ledge a true and decisive standard to exist somewhere, to 
wit, real existence and matter of fact ; and they must have 
indulgence to such as differ from them in their appeals to 
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 acknow- 
ledged 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 science 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 philo- ' 
sophy, 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 science. 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 



xC 



2*0 ESSAY XXIII. 

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 universal, 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 admira- 
tion. 

Though men of delicate taste be rare, they are easily to 
be distinguished in society, by the soundness of their under- 
standing 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 re- 
ceive 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 cele- 
brating 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 
philosopher, they never have been found long to err, in their 
affection for a favorite epic or tragic author. 

But notwithstanding all our endeavours to fix a standard 
of taste, and reconcile the discordant apprehensions of men, 
there still remain two sources of variation, which are not 
sufficient indeed to confound all the boundaries of beauty 
and deformity, but will often serve to produce a difference 
in the degrees of our approbation or blame. The one is the 
different humours of particular men; the other, the par- 
ticular manners and opinions of our age and country. The 
general principles of taste are uniform in human nature : 
Where men vary in their judgments, some defect or per- 
version in the faculties may commonly be remarked ; pro- 
ceeding either from prejudice, from want of practice, or want 
of delicacy ; and there is just reason for approving one taste, 
and condemning another. But where there is such a diver- 
sity in the internal frame or external situation as is entirely 
blameless on both sides, and leaves no room to give one the 
preference above the other ; in that case a certain degree of 
diversity in judgment is unavoidable, and we seek in vain 



OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 281 

for a standard, by which we can reconcile the contrary sen- 
timents. 

A young man, whose passions are warm, will be more 
sensibly touched with amorous and tender images, than a 
man more advanced in years, who takes pleasure in wise, 
philosophical reflections concerning the conduct of life and 
moderation of the passions. At twenty, Ovid may be the 
favourite author ; Horace 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 natural to us. We choose our 
favourite author as we do our friend, from a conformity of 
humour and disposition. Mirth or passion, sentiment or reflec- 
tion ; whichever of these most predominates 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 cor- 
rectness : Another has a more lively feeling of beauties, and 
pardons twenty absurdities and defects for one elevated or 
pathetic stroke. The ear of this man is entirely turned 
towards conciseness and energy ; that man is delighted with 
a copious, rich, and harmonious expression. Simplicity is 
affected by one ; ornament by another. Comedy, tragedy, 
satire, odes, have each its partizans, who prefer that par- 
ticular 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 ancient manners, and behold princesses carry- 
ing water from the spring, and kings and heroes dressing 
their own victuals. We may allow in general, that the re- 
presentation of such manners is no fault in the author, nor 



282 ESSAY XXIII. 

deformity in the piece ; but we are not so sensibly touched 
with them. For this reason, comedy is not easily trans- 
ferred from one age or nation to another. A Frenchman or 
Englishman is not pleased with the Andria of Terence, 
or Clitia of Machiavel ; where the fine lady, upon whom 
all the play turns, never once appears to the spectators, but 
is always kept behind the scenes, suitably to the reserved 
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 in no wise resemble them. 

But here there occurs a reflection, which may, perhaps, 
be useful in examining the celebrated controversy con- 
cerning ancient and modern learning ; where we often find 
the one side excusing 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 performance. In my opinion, 
the proper boundaries in this subject have seldom been 
fixed between the contending parties. Where any inno- 
cent 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 
durable than brass, must fall to the ground like common brick 
or clay, were men to make no allowance for the continual 
revolutions 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 fardingales ? But where the ideas of morality 
and decency alter from one age to another, and where vicious 
manners are described, without being marked with the proper 
characters of blame and disapprobation ; this must be al- 
lowed 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 man- 
ners of his age, I never can relish the composition. The 
want of humanity and of decency, so conspicuous in the 
characters drawn by several of the ancient poets, even some- 
times by Homer and the Greek tragedians, diminishes con- 
siderably the merit of their noble performances, and gives 



OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 283 

modern authors an advantage over them. We are not in- 
terested in the fortunes and sentiments of such rough heroes : 
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 prevail on 
ourselves to enter into his sentiments, or bear an affection to 
characters, which we plainly discover to be blameable. 

The case is not the same with moral principles, as with I 
speculative opinions of any kind. These are in continual ] 
flux and revolution. The son embraces a different system 
from the father. Nay, there scarcely is any man, who can 
boast of great constancy and uniformity in this particular. 
Whatever speculative errors 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 manners, and excite sen- 
timents of approbation or blame, love or hatred, different from 
those to which the mind from long custom has been familiar- 
ized. 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 principles. The same good sense, that directs 
men in the ordinary occurrences of life, is not hearkened to 
n religious matters, which are supposed to be placed alto- 
^ther above the cognizance of human reason. On this ac- 
count, 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 fore- 
fathers. 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 



284 ESSAY XXIII. 

the natural boundaries of vice and virtue. They are there- 
fore eternal blemishes, according to the principle above men- 
tioned; nor are the prejudices and false opinions of the age 
sufficient to justify them. 

It is essential to the Roman catholic religion to inspire a 
violent hatred of every other worship, and to represent all 
pagans, mahometans, and heretics as the objects of divine 
wrath and vengeance. Such sentiments, though they are in 
reality very blameable, are considered as virtues by the zea- 
lots of that communion, and are represented in their trage- 
dies and epic poems as a kind of divine heroism. This bigotry 
has disfigured two very fine tragedies of the French theatre, 
Polietjcte and Athalia ; where an intemperate zeal for par- 
ticular modes of worship is set off with all the pomp imagi- 
nable, and forms the predominant character of the heroes. 
1 What is this,' says the sublime Joad to Josabet, 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 ? 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 com- 
position, 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 mistress 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 defending him against his 
enemies. 



ESSAYS, 

MORAL, POLITICAL, 



AND 



LITERARY. 



PART II * 



* Published in 1752. [This Note was first given in Edition M.] 



ESSAYS 



PART II. 

Essay I. Of Commerce. 

The greater part of mankind may be divided into two/ 
classes ; 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! 
msot useful and valuable. They suggest hints, at least, and 
start difficulties, 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, however, 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 coffee- 
house conversation. 

All people of shallow thought are apt to decry even those 
of solid understanding, as abstruse thinkers, and metaphy- 
sicians, 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 presumption of falsehood, and where no 
reasoning is to be trusted but what is natural and easy. 
"When a man deliberates concerning his conduct in any par- 1 
ticular affair, and forms schemes in politics, trade, ceconomy, 
or any business in life, he never ought to draw his argu- 
ments too fine, or connect too long a chain of consequences 
together. Something is sure to happen, that will disconcert 
|his reasoning, and produce an event different from what he 



288 ESSAY I. 

expected. But when we reason upon general subject*, one 
may justly affirm, that our speculations can scarcely ever be 
too fine, provided they be just ; and that the difference be- 
tween 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 because 
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 propo- 
sitions, which comprehend under them an infinite number 
of individuals, and include a whole science in a single 
theorem. Their eye is confounded with such an extensive 
prospect ; and the conclusions, derived from it, even though 

/Tclearly expressed, seem intricate and obscure. But however 
intricate they may seem, it is certain, that general principles, 
if just and sound, must always prevail in the general course 
of things, though they may fail in particular cases ; and it is 
the chief business of philosophers to regard the general 

Iv^ourse of things. I may add, that it is also the chief busi- 
ness of politicians ; especially in the domestic government 
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 suit- 
able to the latter than to the former. 

I thought this introduction necessary before the following 
discourses ! on commerce, money, interest, balance of trade, &c. 
where, perhaps, there will occur some principles which are 
uncommon, and which may seem too refined and subtile for 
jmch 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 maybe supposed in some respects, 
are commonly allowed to be inseparable with regard to com- 
merce ; and as private men receive greater security, in the 

1 [On commerce, luxury, money, interest, &c. Editions H to M.] 



OF COMMERCE. 289 

possession of their trade and riches, from the power of the N 
public, so the public becomes powerful in proportion to the 
opulence and extensive 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 adding strength to the 
public, will serve only to thin its 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 work up the materials furnished by 
the former, into all the commodities which are necessary or 
ornamental to human life. As soon as men quit their savage 
state, where they live chiefly by hunting and fishing, they 
must fall into these two classes ; though the arts of agricul- 
ture employ at first the most numerous part of the society^ 
Time and experience improve so much these arts, that the" 
land may easily maintain a much greater number of men, 
than those who are immediately employed in its culture, or 
who furnish the more necessary manufactures to 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 opportunity of receiving enjoyments, with which / 
they would otherwise 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 domin- 
ions of the state abroad, and spread its fame over distant 
nations P It is certain that the fewer desires and wants are 

1 Mons. Melon, in his political essay calculation is certainly very erroneous, 

on commerce, asserts, that even at pre- In France, England, and indeed most 

sent, if you divide Fkance into 20 parts, parts of Europe, half of the inhabitants 

1 6 are labourers or peasants ; two only live in cities; and even of those who 

artizans ; one belonging to the law, live in the country, a great number are 

church, and military ; and one mer- artizans, perhaps above a third, 
chants, financiers, and bourgeois. This 

VOL. III. U 



; 



290 ESSAY L 

found in the proprietors and labourers of land, the fewer 
hands do they employ ; and consequently the superfluities of 
the land, instead of maintaining tradesmen and manufac- 
turers, 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 a.nd 

^I'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 of .private persons 
require, 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 of 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 Spaeta was cer- 
tainly more powerful than any state now in the world, con- 
sisting of an equal number of people ; and this was owing 
entirely to the want of commerce and luxury. The Helotes 
were the labourers : The Spartans were the soldiers or gen- 
tlemen. It is evident, 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 Eome. And indeed, throughout 
all ancient history, it is observable, that the smallest repub- 
lics raised and maintained greater armies, than states con- 
sisting of triple the number of inhabitants, are able to support 
at present. It is computed, that, in all European nations, 
the proportion between soldiers and people does not exceed 
one to a hundred. But we read, that the city of Eome 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 Yorkshire, sent to the expe- 
dition against Sicily near forty thousand men. 1 Dionts.us 
the elder, it is said, maintained a standing army of a hundred 
thousand foot and ten thousand horse, besides a large fleet 
of four hundred sail; 2 though his territories extended no 

1 THCcn>n>E8, lib. vii. 75. say worse ; chiefly because this array 

" Diod. Sic. jib. ii. 5. This account, was not composed of citizens, but of 
I own, is somewhat suspicious, not to mercenary forces. 



OF COMMERCE. 291 

farther 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 probable reason can be assigned forj 
the great power of the more ancient states above the modern, 1 
but their want of commerce and luxury. Few artizans were | 
maintained by the labour of the farmers, and therefore more J 
soldiers might live upon it. Livy says, that Eomb, in his/ 
time, would find it difficult to raise as large an army as that 
which, in her early days, she sent out against the Gauls and 
Latins. 1 Instead of those soldiers who fought for liberty 
and empire in Camillus's time, there were, in Augustus's 
days, musicians, painters, cooks, players, and tailors ; and if 
the land was equally cultivated at both periods, it could cer- 
tainly maintain equal numbers 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 consult 
their own interest in this respect, more than the happiness of 
their subjects ? I answer, that it appears to me, almost im- 
possible ; 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 appear a mere philosophical whim or fiction, and im- 
possible ever to be reduced to practice. And though the 
Eoman and other ancient republics were supported on prin- 
ciples somewhat more natural, yet was there an extraordinary 
concurrence of circumstances to make them submit to such 
grievous burthens. They were free states ; they were small 
ones ; and the age being martial, all their neighbours were 
continually in arms. Freedom naturally begets public spirit, 
especially in small states ; and this public spirit, this amor 

1 Titi Livn, lib. yH. cap. 25. ' Adeo in quae laboramus,' says he, ' sola crevimus, 
divitias luxuriemque.' 

v 2 



292 ESSAY I. 

patriae, must encrease, when the public is almost in continual 
alarm, and men are obliged, every moment, to expose them- 
selves 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 heavy tax ; yet is it less felt by a people addicted to arms, 
who fight for honour and revenge more than pay, and are un- 
acquainted with gain and industry as well as pleasure. 1 Not 
to mention the great equality of fortunes among the inhabit- 
ants of the ancient republics, where every field, belonging to 
a different proprietor, was able to maintain a family, and ren- 
dered the numbers of citizens very considerable, even without 
trade and manufactures. 

j But though the want of trade and manufactures, among 
/a free and very martial people, may sometimes have no other 
J effect than to render the public more powerful, it is certain, 
I that, in the common course of human affairs, it will have a 
I quite contrary tendency. Sovereigns must take mankind as 
they find them, and cannot pretend to introduce any violent 
change in their principles and ways of thinking. A long 
course of time, with a variety of accidents and circumstances, 
are requisite to produce those great revolutions, which so 
much diversify the face of human affairs. And the less 
natural any set of principles are, which support a particular 
society, the more difficulty will a legislator meet with in 
raising and cultivating them. It is his best policy to com- 
ply with the common bent of mankind, and give it all the 
1 improvements of which it is susceptible. Now, according to 
^the most natural course of things, industry and arts and 

1 The more antient Romans lived in consistent with the most common 

perpetual war with all their neigh- maxims of policy or of nature, that 

bours : and in old Latin, the term, any state should regard its public ene- 

hostis, expressed both a stranger and an mies with a friendly eye, or preserve 

enemy. This is remarked by Cicero ; any such sentiments for them as the 

but by him is ascribed to the humanity Roman orator would ascribe to his an- 

of his ancestors, who softened, as much cestors. Not to mention, that the early 

as possible, the denomination of an Romans really exercised piracy, as we 

enemy, by calling him by the same learn from their first treaties with Car- 

appellation which signified a stranger. thage, preserved by Polybius, lib. 3, 

De Off. lib. i. 12. "lis however much and consequently like the Saixee and 

more probable, from the manners of the Algerine rovers, were actually at war 

times, that the ferocity of those people with most nations, and a stranger and 

was no great as to make them regard an enemy were with them almost 

all strangers as enemies, and call them synonymous, 
by the same name. It is not, besides, 



OF COMMERCE. 293 

trade encrease the power of the sovereign as well as the J 
happiness of the subjects ; and that policy is violent, which I 
aggrandises the public by the poverty of individuals. This 
will easily appear from a few considerations, which will pre- 
sent 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 superfluity from their labour beyond what suffices to 
maintain them. , * They have no temptation, therefore, to en- 
crease 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. 1 
What is cultivated, yields not its utmost for want of skill and J 
assiduity in the farmers. If a.t any time the public exigencies 
require, that great numbers should be employed 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 sudden. 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 I 
abounds in manufactures and mechanic arts, the proprietors I 
of land, as 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 manufactures for those commodities, which 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 tran- 
quility, this superfluity goes to the maintenance of manu- 
facturers, and the improvers of liberal arts. But it is easy 
for the public to convert many of these manufacturers 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 



294 ESSAY I. 

sovereign raises an army, what is the consequence ? He im- 
poses a tax. This tax obliges all the people to retrench what 
is least necessary to their subsistence. Those, who labour in 
such commodities, must either enlist in the troops, or turn 
themselves to agriculture, and thereby oblige some labourers 

I to enlist for want of business. And to consider the mat ter 
fthstra-fttP^jy, manu facturers encrease the p^* ^ +hfi fltflitft 
only asthey store up so much labour, and that of a kind to 
whifih thft pnQ|ift may lay filaim, nyitnnn*. flftpn'viTip any nrm 
of the necessaries of lifft. The more labour, therefore, is 
employed beyond mere necessaries, the more powerful is any 
state ; since the persons engaged in that labour may easily 
be converted to the public service. In a state without manu- 
facturers, 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 
impracticable, 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 superfluous 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 
J the other members of the state. The greater is the stock of 
uabour of all kinds, the greater quantity may be taken from 
\he heap, without making any sensible alteration in it. 
A public granary of corn, a storehouse of cloth, a maga- 
ine of arms ; all these must be allowed real riches and 
strength in any state. / Trade and industry are really nothing 
but a stock of labour, which, in times of peace and tran- 
quillity, is employed for the ease and satisfaction of indi- 
viduals ; but in the exigencies of state, may, in part, be 
turned to public advantage. Could we convert a city into a 
ind 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 



he] 
It 



OF COMMERCE. 295 

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 luxmy ; and, by restrictions 
on equipage and tables, make the provisions and forage last 
longer than if the army were loaded with a number of super- 
fluous retainers. But as these principles are too disinterested 
and too difficult to support, it is requisite to govern men by J 
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 provisions flow in pro- 
portionably larger. The harmony of the whole is still sup- 
ported ; and the natural bent of the mind being more com- 
plied with, individuals, as well as the public, find their 
account in the observance of those maxims. 

The same method of reasoning will let us see the advan^ 
tage of foreign commerce, in augmenting the power of th 
state, as well as the riches and happiness of the subject, 
encreases the stock of labour in the nation ; and the sovereign 
may convert what share of it he finds necessary to the ser- 
vice of the public. Foreign trade, by its imports, furnishes 
materials for new manufactures ; and by its exports, it pro- 
duces 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 luxuries, 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 commodities, 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 maj 
be diverted to the public service, without robbing any one o1 
the necessaries, or even the chief conveniencies of life. ^ 

If we consult history, we shall find, that, in most nations, ' 
foreign trade has preceded any refinement in home manufac- 
tures, 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 domestic commodity, which 
always advance by slow degrees, and never affect us by their 



K5 ESSAY I. 

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 favourable to that com- 
modity. Thus men become acquainted with the pleasures of 
luxury and the profits of commerce ; and their delicacy and 
industry, being once awakened, carry them on to farther im- 
provements, 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 
indolence ; 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 im- 
portation and exportation, make great profits ; and becoming 
rivals in wealth to the ancient nobility, tempt other adven- 
turers to become their rivals in commerce. Imitation soon 
diffuses all those arts ; while domestic manufactures emulate 
the foreign in their improvements, and work up every home 
commodity to the utmost perfection of which it is suscepti- 
ble. Their own steel and iron, in such laborious hands, be- 
come equal to the gold and rubies of the Indies. 

When the affairs of the society are once brought to this 

situation, a nation may lose most of its foreign trade, and 

yet continue 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 person in the state, who possesses 

riches, enjoys as great plenty of home commodities, and 

those in as great perfection, as he desires ; which can never 

ipossibly happen. China is represented as one of the most 

flourishing empires in the world ; though it has very little 

commerce beyond its own territories. 

L/'lt will not, I hope, be considered as a superfluous digres- 

i sion, if I here observe, that, as the multitude of mechanical 

(I arts is advantageous, so is the great number of persons to 

I whose share the productions of these arts fall. A too great 

i disproportion among the citizens weakens any state. Every 

I person, if possible, ought to enjoy the fruits of his labour, in 

\ a full possession of all the necessaries, and many of the con- 



It 



OF COMMERCE. 297 

veniencies of life. No one can doubt, but sucb 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 
chearfulness. 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 
multitudes, the burthen feels light on every shoulder, and 
the taxes make not a very sensible difference on any one's 
way of living. f 

Add to this, that, where the riches are in few hands, thes 
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 Eng 
land above any nation at present in the world, or that 
appears in the records of any story. It is true, the English 
feel some disadvantages in foreign trade by the high price of 
labour, which is in part the effect of the riches of their arti 
sans, 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 happiness of so many millions. 
And if there were no more to endear 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 hand, that their 
riches are an infallible result of liberty. Liberty must be 
attended with particular accidents, and a certain turn of 
thinking, in order to produce that effect. Lord Bacon, ac- 
counting for the great advantages obtained by the English 
in their wars with France, ascribes them chiefly to the 
superior ease and plenty of the common people amongst the 
former ; yet the government 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 labour, it is difficult 
for them, even in a free government, to better their con- 
dition, or conspire among themselves to heighten their 
wages. But even where they are accustomed to a more 
plentiful way of life, it is easy for the rich, in an arbitrary 



298 ESSAY I. 

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 happi- 
ness 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, agriculture 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 as it is ex- 
hausted ; 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 maintenance for 
their labour. They have no stock or riches, which claim 
more ; and at the same time they are for ever dependent 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 expense ; and produces slender crops, when not care- 
fully managed, and by a rffethod which gives not the 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 and Burgundy, that often yield to the landlord 
about five pounds per acre, are cultivated by peasants who 
have scarcely bread : The reason is, that such peasants need 
no stock but their own limbs, with instruments of husbandry, 
which they can buy for twenty shillings. The farmers are 
commonly in some better circumstances in those countries. 
But the grasiers are most at their ease of all those who culti- 
vate the land. The reason is still the same. Men must have 
profits proportionable to their expense and hazard. 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 
history 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 mili- 



OF COMMERCE. 299 

tary discipline ; while few nations in the temperate climates 
have been altogether deprived of these advantages ? It is i 
probable that one cause of this phenomenon is the warmth f 
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. (Juris acuens mortalia corda, I 
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 set- 
tled police or regular authority to protect and defend them 
from foreign enemies, or from each other. 



Essay II. Of Refinement in the Arts. 1 

Luxuet is a word of 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 blameable, accord- 
ing to the age, or country, or condition of the person. The 
bounds between the virtue and the vice cannot here be ex- 
actly 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 fren- 
zies 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 expense of some virtue, as 
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 innocent, and have in every age been acknow- 
ledged such by almost all moralists. To be entirely occu- 
pied with the luxury of the table, for instance, without any 

1 fin Editions H to 3VI this Essay is headed : Of Luxury.] 



300 ESSAY II. 

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 one's expense entirely to 
such a gratification, without regard to friends or family, is an 
indication of a heart destitute of humanity or benevolence. 

(But if a man reserve time sufficient for all laudable pursuits, 
and money sufficient for all generous purposes, he is free 
from every shadow of blame or reproach. 

Since luxury may be considered either as innocent or 
blameable, one may be surprized 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 corrup- 
tions, disorders, and factions, incident to civil government. We 
shall here endeavour to correct both these extremes, by prov- 

I ing, first, that the ages of refinement are both the happiest 
and most virtuous ; secondly, 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 
happiness, 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, according 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 repose, indeed, seems not of it- 
self to contribute much to our enjoyment; but, like sleep, is 
requisite as an indulgence to the weakness of human nature, 
which cannot support an uninterrupted course of business or 
pleasure. That quick march of the spirits, which takes a 
man from himself, and chiefly gives satisfaction, 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 enjoyment. 
Education, custom, and example, have a mighty influence 
in turning the mind to any of these pursuits ; and it must be 
owned, that, where they promote a relish for action and 



OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 301 

pleasure, they are so far favourable to human happiness. In' 
times when industry and the arts flourish, men are kept in 
perpetual occupation, and enjoy, as their reward, the occu- 
pation itself, as well as those pleasures which are the fruit of 
their labour. The mind acquires new vigour ; enlarges its ! 
powers and faculties ; and by an assiduity in honest industry, 
both satisfies its natural appetites, and prevents the growth 
of unnatural ones, which commonly spring up, when 
nourished by ease and idleness. 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 
mechanical arts, is, that they commonly produce some refine- 
ments in the liberal ; nor can one be carried to perfection, 
without being accompanied, in some degree, with the other. 
The same age, which produces great philosophers and poli- 
ticians, renowned generals and poets, usually abounds with 
skilful weavers, and ship-carpenters. We cannot reasonably 
expect, that a piece of woollen cloth will be brought to perfec- 
tion 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 fermentation, 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 become : nor is it possible, that, when enriched with 
science, and possessed of a fund of conversation, they should 
be contented to remain in solitude, or live with their fellow- citi- 
zens in that distant manner, which is peculiar to ignorant 
and barbarous nations. They flock* into cities ; love to re- 
ceive and communicate 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. Particular clubs and societies 
are everywhere formed : Both sexes meet in an easy and 



302 ESSAY IL 

sociable manner : and the tempers of men, as well as their 
behaviour, refine apace. So that, beside the improvements 
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 contribute to each 
j other's pleasure and entertainment. Thus industry, know- 
ledge, and humanity, are linked together by an indissoluble 
chain, and are found, from experience as well as reason, to 
be peculiar to the more polished, and, what are commonly 
denominated, the more luxurious ages. 

Nor are these advantages attended with disadvantages, that 
bear any proportion to them. The more men refine upon 
pleasure, the less they indulge in excess of any kind ; be- 
cause nothing is more destructive to true pleasure than such 
excesses. One may safely affirm, that the Tartars are 
oftener guilty of beastly gluttony, when they feast on their 
dead horses, than European courtiers with all their refine- 
ments 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 pernicious both to mind and body. And in this 
matter I would appeal, not only to an Ovid or a Petronius, 
but to a Seneca or a Cato. We know, that CLesar, during 
Catiline's conspiracy, being necessitated to put into Cato's 
hands a billet-doux, which discovered an intrigue with Ser- 
vilia, Cato's own sister, that stern philosopher threw it 
back to him with indignation ; 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 advan- 
tageous 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 pros- 
perous. The encrease and consumption of all the com- 
modities, which serve to- the ornament and pleasure of life, 
are advantageous to society ; because, at the same time that 
they multiply those innocent gratifications to individuals, 
they are a kind of storehouse of labour, which, in the exigen- 
cies of state, may be turned to public service. In a nation, 
where there is no demand for such superfluities, men sink 



OF REFINEMENT IN THE AETS. 303 

into indolence, lose all enjoyment of life, and are useless 
to the public, which cannot maintain or 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? Which can be ascribed to nothing but the encrease 
of art and industry. When Charles VIII. of France in- 
vaded Italy, he carried with him about 20,000 men : Yet 
this armament so exhausted 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 ; l though from Mazarine's 
death to his own, he was engaged in a course of wars that 
lasted near thirty years. 

This industry is much promoted by the knowledge in- 
separable 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 ; these can never be carried to any degree 
of perfection, before human reason has refined itself by 
exercise, and by an application to the more vulgar arts, at 
least, of commerce and manufacture. Can we expect, that 
a government will be well modelled by a people, who know 
not how to make a spinning-wheel, or to employ a loom to ad- 
vantage ? Not to mention, that all ignorant 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 
mildness and moderation, by instructing men in the ad- 
vantages 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 humanity appears still more con- 
spicuous, and is the chief characteristic which distinguishes 
a civilized age from times of barbarity and ignorance. Fac- 
tions are then less inveterate, revolutions less tragical, au- 
thority less severe, and seditions less frequent. Even foreign 
wars abate of their cruelty ; and after the field of battle, 

1 The inscription on the Place-de-Vendome says 440,000. 



304 ESSAY H. 

where honour and interest steel men against compassion as 
well as fear, the combatants divest themselves of the brute, 
and resume 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 at- 
tendant, adds new force to both. 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 governable 
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, nor be of 
any use, when not accompanied with discipline and martial 
skill, which are seldom found among a barbarous people. 
The ancients remarked, that Datames was the only barbarian 
that ever knew the art of war. And Pyrrhus, seeing the 
Romans marshal their army with some art and skill, said 
with surprize, These barharians have nothing barbarous in their 
discipline ! It is observable, that, as the old Romans, by 
applying themselves solely to war, were almost the only un- 
civilized people that ever possessed military discipline; so 
the modern Italians are the only civilized 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 satis- 
factory reason for this degeneracy of their countrymen. 
They shew us how the sword was dropped at once by all the 
Italian sovereigns ; while the Venetian aristocracy was 
jealous of its subjects, the Florentine democracy applied 
itself entirely to commerce ; Eome 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 



OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 305 

against refinement in the arts, is the example of ancient 
Some, which, joining, to its poverty and rusticity, virtue 
and public spirit, rose to such a surprising height of grandeur 
and liberty ; but having learned from its conquered provinces 
Hhe Asiatic luxury, 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 uni- 
versally 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 lewdness and 
drinking. And so popular were these sentiments, during 
the later 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 contemptuously of the Grecian eloquence, though the 
most elegant writer in the world; nay, employs prepos- 
terous digressions and declamations to this purpose, though 
a model of taste and correctness. 

But it would be easy to prove, that these writers mistook 
the cause of the disorders in the Eoman state, and ascribed 
to luxury and the arts, what really proceeded from an ill 
modelled government, and the unlimited extent of con- 
quests. 2 Refinement on the pleasures and conveniences of 
life has no natural tendency 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 anything 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 de- 
fective in the arts of war as well as peace, mechanical as well 
as liberal; yet it is there that venality and corruption do 
most prevail. The nobles seem to have preserved their 
crown elective for no other purpose, than regularly to sell 

1 [The Grecian and Asiatic luxury : 2 [Luxury or refinement on pleasure 

Editions H to K.] has, &c. : Editions H to M.] 

VOL. HI. X 



306 ESSAY n. 

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 
improvements in the arts, have never flourished so much as 
during that period. And though corruption may seem to 
encrease of late years ; this is chiefly to be ascribed to our 
established liberty, when our princes have found the im- 
possibility of governing without parliaments, or of terrifying 
parliaments by the phantom of prerogative. Not to mention, 
that this corruption or venality prevails much more among 
the electors than the elected; 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 
government. In rude unpolished nations, where the arts 
are neglected, 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 subjec- 
tion ; especially where they possess no riches, and are not 
valued for their knowledge in agriculture ; as must always 
be the case where the arts are neglected. The former 
naturally erect themselves into petty tyrants; and must 
either submit to an absolute master, for the sake of peace 
and order ; or if they will preserve their independency, like 
the l ancient barons, they must fall into feuds and contests 
among themselves, and throw the whole society into such con- 
fusion, as is perhaps worse than the most despotic government. 
/[But where luxury nourishes commerce and industry, the 
I peasants, by a proper cultivation of the land, become rich 
I and independent ; while the tradesmen and merchants acquire 
a share of the property, and draw authority and considera- 
tion 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. 

1 [The Gothic barons : Editions H to N.] 



OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 307 

The lower house is the support of our popular government ; 
and all the world acknowledges, that it owed its chief influ- 
ence and consideration to the encrease of commerce, which 
threw such a balance of property into the hands of the 
commons. How inconsistent 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 
nature : 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 uncivilised ages ; 
and by the refined Greeks and Romans were ascribed to all 
the barbarous nations, which surrounded them. They might 
justly, therefore, have presumed, that their own ancestors, so 
highly celebrated, possessed no greater virtue, and were as 
much inferior to their posterity in honour and humanity, as 
in taste and science. An ancient Frank or Saxon may be 
highly extolled : But I believe every man would think his 
life or fortune much less secure in 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 propose to 
illustrate, to wit, that, as innocent luxury, or a refinement in 
the arts and conveniences of life, is advantageous to the 
public ; so wherever luxury ceases to be innocent, it also ceases 
to be beneficial ; and when carried a degree farther, begins 
to be a quality pernicious, though, perhaps, not the most 
pernicious, to political society. 

Let us consider what we call vicious luxury. No gratifica- 
tion, however sensual, can of itself be esteemed vicious. A 
gratification 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. 

x 2 



308 ESSAY II. 

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 present, is employed 
only in producing a slender gratification to one man, would 
relieve the necessitous, and bestow satisfaction on hundreds. 
The same care and toil that raise a dish of peas at Christ- 
mas, 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, selfishness, 
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 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 dis- 
position? To assert, that they cannot, appears evidently 
ridiculous. As 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. 
Eemove 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 banishing vicious luxury, with- 
out curing sloth and an indifference to others, you only 
diminish industry in the state, and add nothing to men's 
charity 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 
never pronounce vice in itself advantageous. Is it not very 
inconsistent for an author to assert in one page, that moral 
distinctions are inventions of politicians for public interest ; 
and in the next page maintain, that vice is advantageous to 
the public? 1 And indeed it seems upon any system of 

1 Fable of the Bees. 



OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 309 

morality, little less than a contradiction in terms, to talk of 
a vice, which, is in general beneficial to society. 1 

I thought this reasoning necessary, in order to give some 
light to a philosophical question, which has been much dis- 
puted in England. I call it a philosophical question, not a 
political one. For whatever may be the consequence of such 
a miraculous transformation of mankind, as would endow 
them with every 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 substitu- 
ting a virtue in its place. Yery 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 persons 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 ser- 
vice 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. 



Essay III. Of Money. 

Money is not, properly speaking, one of the subjects of 
commerce ; but only the instrument which men have agreed I 
upon 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 con- 
sider 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 Hakby Yll.'s time served the same 

1 [Prodigality is not to be confounded But idleness is the great source of pro- 

with a refinement in the arts. It even digality at all times ; and there are 

appears, that that vice is much less pleasures and vanities in every age, 

frequent in the cultivated ages. In- which allure men equally when they are 

dustry and gain beget this frugality, unacquainted with better enjoyments, 

among the lower and middle ranks of Not to mention, that the high interest, 

men ; and in all the busy professions. payed in rude times, quickly consumes 

Men of high rank, indeed, it may be the fortunes sf the landed gentry, and 

pretended, are more allured by L ,he multiplies th sir necessities. Edition P 

pleasures, which become more frequent. in the text.] 



310 ESSAY III. 

purpose as a pound does at present. It is only the pub tic 
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 plenty of gold and 
Bilver ; since the pay of all their servants must rise in pro- 
portion to the public opulence. Our small army of 20,000 
men is maintained at as great expence, as a French army 
1 twice as numerous. The English fleet, during the late war, 
required as much money to support it as all the Eoman 
legions, which kept the whole world in subjection, during the 
time of the emperors. 2 

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 
hinders them from being confined entirely to one people ; as 
might naturally at first be dreaded from the advantages of 
an established commerce. Where one nation has gotten the 
start of another in trade, it is very difficult for the latter to 
regain the ground it has lost ; because of the superior in- 

1 [Thrice : Editions H to P.] armies, in comparison of what are em- 

2 A private soldier in the Eoman ployed in all our modern troops, except 
infantry had a denarius a day, some- some Swiss corps. And these officers 
what less than eightpence. The Roman had very small pay : A centurion, for 
emperors had commonly 25 legions in instance, only double a common sold ht. 

{>ay, which allowing 5000 men to a And as the soldiers from their pay 
egion, makes 125,000. Tacit. Ann. (Tacit. Ann. lib. i. 17) bought their own 
lib. iv. 5. It is true, there were also aux- cloaths, arms, tents, and baggage ; this 
lliaries to the legions ; but their num- must also diminish considerably the 
bers are uncertain, as well as their other charges of the army. So little 
pay. To consider only the legionaries, expensive was that mighty government, 
the pay of the private men could not and so easy was its yoke over the 
exceed 1,600,000 pounds. Now, the world. And, indeed, this is the more 
parliament in the last war commonly nat iral conclusion from the foregoing 
allowed for the fleet 2,500,000. We calculations. For money, after the con- 
have therefore 900,000 over for the qmst of ^Eoypt, seems to have been 
officers and other expences of the nearly in as great plenty at Rom r.. M it, 
Roman legions. There seem to have is , it present in the richest of the Euito- 
Iteii but few officers in the Roman WA kingdoms. 



OF MONEY. 311 

dustry and skill of the former, and the greater stocks, of which J 
its merchants are possessed, and which enable them to trade j 
on so much smaller profits. But these advantages are com-V 
pensated, in some measure, by the low price of labour inj 
every nation which has not an extensive commerce, and does 
not much abound in gold and silver. Manufactures, there- 
fore 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 pro- 
visions 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 established com- 
merce, and sets bounds to it in every country, by enabling 
the poorer states to undersel the richer in all foreign mar- 
kets. 

This has made me entertain a doubt concerning the benefit 
of banks and paper-credit, which are so generally esteemed 
advantageous 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 unavoidable, and the effect of that public wealth and 
prosperity which are the end of all our wishes. It is com- 
pensated by the advantages, which we reap from the posses- 
sion 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 being of more easy transport and 
more safe custody. If the public 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 Dublin : 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 encrease 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 



812 ESSAY in. 

thereby heightening their price to the merchant and manu- 
facturer. And in this view, it must be allowed, that no bank 
could be more advantageous, than such a one as locked up 
all the money it received, 1 and never augmented the circulating 
coin, as is usual, by returning part of its treasure into com- 
merce. 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 pre- 
ceding 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 
eompensation. 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 tranquility was 
restored to the nation. 

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. 2 

It was a shrewd observation of Anacharsis 3 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, 1 
that money is nothing but the representation of labour and 
commodities, and serves only as a method of rating or esti- 
mating 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 ; any more than it would make an altera- 
tion on a merchant's books, if, instead of the Arabian method 
of notation, which requires few characters, he should make 
use of the Soman, which requires a great many. Nay, the 
greater quantity of money, like the Soman characters, is 
rather inconvenient, and requires greater trouble both to keep 

1 This i*8 the case with the hank of sometimes, in this age, attached to the 
Amsterdam. [This note was added in character of a philosopher, without add- 
Ed. K.] ing to it that which belongs to a pro- 

2 [Editions H to P add : For to these jector.] 

only I all along address myself. 'Tis * Pi.ut. Qvomodo quis suosprofcctu* 

enough that I submit to the ridicule in virtutc sentire possit. 



OF MONEY. 313 

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 kingdom, 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 manufacturer more diligent and skilful, and 
even the farmer follows his plough with greater alacrity and 
attention. This is not easily to be accounted for, if we con- 
sider only the influence which a greater abundance of coin 
has in the kingdom itself, by heightening the price of com- 
modities, and obliging every one to pay a greater number of 
these little yellow or white pieces for every 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 
consequence of the encrease of gold and silver, yet it follows 
not immediately upon that encrease ; but some time is re- 
quired before 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 encreasing 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 advantage. 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 employ more work- 
men than formerly, who never dream of demanding higher 
wages, but are glad of employment from such good pay- 
masters. If workmen become scarce, the manufacturer gives 
higher wages, but at first requires an encrease of labour ; 



314 ESSAY III. 

and this is willingly submitted to by the artisan, who caK 
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 tradesmen, whose price is the same 
as formerly, and their industry only whetted by so much new 
gain. It is easy to trace the money in its progress through 
the whole commonwealth ; where we shall find, that it must 
first quicken the diligence of every individual, before it en- 
crease the price of labour. 

And that the specie may encrease to a considerable pitch, 
before it have this latter effect, appears, amongst other in- 
stances, 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 raised 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. 

1 These facts I give upon the autho- probably purchase every thing that 

rity of Mons. du Tot in his Reflections could have been bought by the old ; 

politiques, an author of reputation. the prices of every thing would thereby 

Though I must confess, that the facts be insensibly diminished ; foreign trade 

which he advances on other occasions, enlivened; and domestic industry, by 

are often so suspicious, as to make his the circulation of a great number of 

authority less in this matter. How- pounds and shillings, would receive 

ever, the general observation, that the some encrease and encouragement. In 

augmenting of the money in France executing such a project, it would be 

does not at first proportion ably aug- better to make the now shilling pass 

ment the prices, is certainly just. for 24 halfpence, in order to preserve 

By the by, this seems to be one of the illusion, and make it be taken for 

the best reasons which can be given, the same. And as a recoinage of our 

for a gradual and universal encrease of silver begins to be requisite, by the 

the denominntion of money, though it continual wearing of our shillings and 

has been entirely overlooked in all sixpences, it may be doubtful, whether 

those volumes which have been written wo ought to imitate the example in 

on that question by Melon, Du Tot, Kino William's reign, when the dipt 

and Paris de Vkrney. Were all our money was raised to the old standard. 
money, for instance, recoined, and a [This list sentence is entered, to be 

penny's worth of silver taken from added, in the list of errata in II : it 

every shilling, th new shilling would was incorporated in the text of I.] 



OF MONEY. 315 

From the whole of this reasoning we may conclude, that 
it is of no manner of consequence, with regard to the domestic 
happiness of a state, whether money be in a greater or less 
quantity. 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 money, 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 not the same 
employment from the manufacturer and merchant ; though 
he pays the same price for everything 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 impositions 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, 1 than there 
is in its industry, people, and manufactures. Th e Austrian 

1 The Italians gave to the Emperor that prince ever succeeded, for want of 
Maximtlian, the nickname of Pocci- money. 
banari. None of the enterprises of 



310 ESSAY III. 

dominions in the empire are in general well peopled and wvll 
i cultivated, and are of great extent; but have not a propor- 
tionable 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 wherever 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 abundance of the precious 
metals. These admit of divisions and subdivisions to a great 
extent ; and where the pieces might become so small as to be 
in danger of being lost, it is easy to mix the gold or silver 
with a baser metal, as is practised in some countries of 
Europe ; and by that means raise the pieces to a bulk more 
sensible and convenient. They still serve the same pur- 
poses of exchange, whatever their number may be, or what- 
ever colour they may be supposed to have. 

To these difficulties I answer, that the effect, here sup- 
posed to flow from scarcity of money, really arises from the 
manners and customs of the people ; and that we mistake, 
as is too usual, a collateral effect for a cause. The contra- 
diction is only apparent ; but it requires some thought and 
reflection to discover the principles, by which we can recon- 
cile reason to experience. 

It seems a maxim almost self-evident, that the prices of 
every thing depend on the proportion between commodities 
and money, and that any considerable alteration on either 
has the same effect, either of heightening or . lowering the 
price. Encrease the commodities, they become cheaper; 
en crease the money, they rise in their value. As, on the other 
hand, a diminution of the former, and that of the latter, 
have contrary tendencies. 

It is also evident, that the prices do not so much depend 
on the absolute quantity of commodities and that of money, 
which are in a nation, as on that of the commodities, which 
come or may come to market, and of the money which cir- 
culates. If the coin be locked up in chests, it is the same 
thing with regard to prices, as if it were annihilated ; if the 
commodities be hoarded in l magazines and granaries, a like 
effect follows. As the money and commodities, in these 

1 [Magazines and : first added in Edition Q,.] 



OF MONEY. 317 

cases, never meet, they cannot affect each other. Were we, 
at any time, to form conjectures concerning the price of pro- 
visions, the corn, which 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, compared 
to the demand, that determines the value. 

To apply these principles, we must consider, that, in the 
first and more uncultivated ages of any state, ere fancy has 
confounded her wants with those of nature, men, content 
with the produce of their own fields, or with those rude im- 
provements which they themselves can work upon them, 
have little occasion for exchange, at least for money, which, 
by agreement, is the 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 cloathing. The 
carpenter, the smith, the mason, the tailor, are retained by 
wages of a like nature j and the landlord himself, dwelling 
in the neighbourhood, is content to receive his rent in the 
commodities raised by the farmer. The 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 expense and 
luxury. 

But after men begin to refine on all these enjoyments, and 
live not always at home, nor are content with what can be 
raised in their neighbourhood, there is more exchange and 
commerce 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 always 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 transported to him. Great undertakers, 
and manufacturers, and merchants, arise in every com- 
modity; and these can conveniently 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 

1 [For seed and : first added in Edition R.] 



318 ESSAY III. 

not in the nation, every thing must become much cheaper in 
times of industry and refinement, than in rude, uncultivated 
ages. It is t he proportioja_ht ween the circu lati ng money , 
: i ii*l 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 mar- 
ket ; they affect not in the least the current specie ; with 
regard to it they are as if totally annihilated ; and conse- 
quently 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 ; all commodities 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 larger 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 Portu- 
gvese from their mines, the English, 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 satisfactory reason can be given, 
why all prices have not risen to a much more exorbitant 
height, except that which is derived from a change of cus- 
toms and manners. Besides that more commodities are 
produced by additional industry, the same commodities come 
more to market, after men depart from their ancient sim- 
plicity of manners. And though this encrease has not been 
equal to that of money, it has, however, been considerable, 
and has preserved the proportion between coin and commo- 
dities nearer the ancient standard. 

1 [Editions H and I read : Seven millions ... a tenth part.] 



OF MONEY. 319 

Were the question proposed, Which of these methods of 
living in the people, the simple or refined, is the most ad- 
vantageous 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 encou- 
ragement of trade and manufactures. 

While men live in the ancient simple manner, and supply 
all their necessaries from domestic industry or from the 
neighbourhood, the sovereign can levy no taxes in money 
from a considerable part of his subjects ; and if he will impose 
on them any burthens, he must take payment in commo- 
dities, with which alone they abound ; a method attended 
with such great and obvious inconveniencies, that they need 
need not here be insisted on. All the money he can pretend 
to raise, must be from his principal 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 sovereign 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 be- 
cause 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 de- 
termined. 

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 it wants money. It ap-~ 
pears, that the want of money can never injure any state 
within itself: For men and commodities are the real strength 
of any community. It is the simple manner of living which 
here hurts the public, by confining the gold and silver to few 
hands, and preventing its universal diffusion and circulation. 
On the contrary, industry and refinements of all kinds incor- 
porate it with the whole state, however small its quantity may 
be : They digest it into every vein, so to speak ; and make it 
enter into every transaction and contract. No hand is entirely 
empty of it. And as the prices of every thing fall by that 
means, the sovereign has a double advantage : He may draw 



S20 ESSAY III. 

! 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 Eubope 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 2 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 sub- 
dued the whole known world. About a century before that 
period, the Caethaginian ambassador said, by way of raillery, 
that no people 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 table. 3 The absolute quantity of the precious 
metals is a matter of great indifference. There are only two 
circumstances of any importance, namely, their gradual en- 
crease, and their thorough concoction and circulation through 
the state ; and the influence of both these circumstances has 
here been explained. 

In the following Essay we shall see an instance of a like 
fallacy 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 manners 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 
generally ascribed to plenty of money. But money, however 
plentiful, has no other effect, if fixed, than to raise the price 
of labour. Silver is more common than gold ; and therefore 
you receive 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 

1 Lib. ii. cap. 16. club at the inns.] 

* [Editions H to Pread: The stated 8 Pun. lib. xxxiii. cap. 11. 



OF INTEREST, 321 

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, would money be more plentiful or interest lower? 
No surely : We should only use silver instead of gold. Were 
gold rendered 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 inferior 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 interest has not fallen much above half. The 
Irate of interest, therefore, is not derived from the quantity of 
(the precious metals. 

I Money having chiefly a fictitious value, 1 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, furniture or equipage, without encreasing any one 
^convenience of life. If a man borrow money to build a house, J 
he then carries home a greater load ; because the stone, tim- 
ber, lead, glass, &c. with the labour of the masons and 
1 [Value, arising from the agreement and convention of men ; Editions H to P.] 
VOL. III. Y 



I 



322 ESSAY IV. 

carpenters, are represented by a greater quantity of gold 
and silver. But as these metals are considered chiefly as 
representations, there can no alteration arise, from their bulk 
or quantity, their weight or colour, either upon their real 
value or their interest. The same interest, in all cases, 
bears the same proportion to the sum. And if you lent me 
so much labour and so many commodities ; by receiving five 
per cent, you always receive proportional labour and commo- 
dities, however represented, whether by yellow or white coin, 
whether by a pound or an ounce. It is in vain, therefore, to 
look for the cause of the fall or rise of interest in the greater 
or less quantity of gold and silver, which is fixed in any nation* 

High interest arises from three circumstances : A greai 
demand for borrowing ; little riches to supply that demand ; 
and great profits arising from commerce : And these circum- 
stances are a clear proof of the small advance of commerce 
and industry, not of the scarcity of gold and silver. Low 
interest, on the other hand, proceeds from the three opposite 
circumstances : A small demand for borrowing ; great riches 
to supply that demand ; and small profits arising from com- 
merce : And these circumstances are all connected together, 
and proceed from the encrease of industry and commerce, not 
of gold and silver. We shall endeavour to prove these points ;< 
and shall begin with the causes and the effects of a great or 
small demand for borrowing. 

When a people have emerged ever so little from a savag3 
state, and their numbers have encreased beyond the original 
multitude, there must immediately arise an inequality of 
property ; and while some possess large tracts of land, others 
are confined within narrow limits, and some are entirely 
without any landed property. Those who possess more land 
than they can labour, employ those who possess none, and 
agree to receive a determinate part of the product. Thus 
the landed interest is immediately established ; nor is there 
any settled government, however rude, in which affairs are 
not on this footing. Of these proprietors of land, some 
must presently discover themselves to be of different tempers 
from others ; and while one would willingly store up the 
produce of his land for futurity, another desires to consume 
at present what should suffice for many years. But as the 
spending of a settled revenue is a way of life entirely without '1 
occupation ; men have so much need of somewhat to fix and f 



OF INTEREST. 323 

/engage them, that pleasures, such as they are, will be the 
pursuit of the greater part of the landholders, and the pro- 
digals among them will always be more numerous than the 
misers. In a state, therefore, where there is nothing but a" 
landed interest, as there is little frugality, the borrowers 
must be very numerous, and the rate of interest must hold 
I proportion to it. The difference depends not on the quantity 
\ of money, but on the habits and manners which prevail. ) 
By this alone the demand for borrowing is encreased or 
diminished. Were money so plentiful as to make an egg 
be sold for sixpence ; so long as there are only landed gentry 
and peasants in the state, the borrowers must be numerous, 
and interest high. The rent for the same farm would be 
heavier and more bulky : But the same idleness of the land- 
lord, with the higher price of commodities, would dissipate it 
in the same time, and produce the same necessity and demand 
for borrowing. 1 

Nor is the case different with regard to the second circum- 
stance which we proposed to consider, namely, the great or 
little riches to supply the demand. This effect also depends 
on the habits and way of living of the people, not on the 
^quantity of gold and silver. In order to have, in any state, 
a great number of lenders, it is not sufficient nor requisite, 
that there be great abundance of the precious metals. It is 
only requisite, that the property or command of that quan- 
tity, which is in the state, whether great or small, should be 
collected in particular hands, so as to form considerable sums, 
or compose a great monied interest. This begets a number of j 
lenders, and sinks the rate of usury; and this I shall venture 
to affirm, depends not on the quantity of specie, but on par- 
ticular manners and customs, which make the specie gather 
unto separate sums or masses of considerable value. 

For suppose, that, by miracle, every man in Great Britain 
should have five pounds slipt into his pocket in one night ; 

1 [Editions H to N add I have been going reasoning. Men, in that age, 

informed by a very eminent lawyer, lived so much at home, and in so very 

and a man of great knowledge and ob- simple and frugal a manner, that they 

servation, that it appears from antient had no occasion for money ; and though 

papers and records, that, about four the lenders were then few, the bor- 

centuries ago, money in Scotland, and rowers were still fewer. The high rate 

probably in other parts of Europe, was of interest among the early Romans is 

only at five per cent, and afterwards accounted for by historians from the 

rose to ten before the discovery of the frequent losses sustained by the ia- 

West-Inmes. The fact is curious ; but roads of the enemy.] 
might easily be reconciled to the fore- 

y 2 



324 ESSAY IV. 

this would much more than double the whole money that is 
at present in the kingdom ; yet there would not next day, nor 
for some time, be any more lenders, nor any variation in the 
interest. And were there nothing but landlords and peasantsN 
in the state, this money, however abundant, could never 
gather into sums ; and would only serve to en crease the prices 
of every thing, without any farther consequence. The pro- 
digal landlord dissipates it, as fast as he receives it ; and the 
beggarly peasant has no means, nor view, nor ambition of 
obtaining above a bare livelihood. The overplus of borrowers 
above that of lenders continuing still the same, there will 
follow no reduction of interest. That depends upon another] 
principle ; and must proceed from an encrease of industry and J 
frugality, of arts and commerce. J 

Every thing useful to the life of man arises from the^ 
ground ; but few things arise in that condition which is re- 
quisite to render them useful. There must, therefore, beside 
the peasant and the proprietors of land, be another rank of 
men, who receiving from the former the rude materials, work 
them into their proper form, and retain part for their own 
use and subsistence. In the infancy of society, these con- 
tracts between the artisans and the peasants, and between 
one species of artisans and another are commonly entered into 
immediately by the persons themselves, who, being neigh- 
bours, are easily acquainted with each other's necessities, and 
can lend their mutual assistance to supply them. But when 
men's industry encreases, and their views enlarge, it is found, 
that the most remote parts of the state can assist each other 
as well as the more contiguous, and that this intercourse of 
good offices may be carried on to the greatest extent and 
intricacy. Hence the origin of merchants, one of the most 
useful races of men, who serve as agents between those parts 
of the state, that are wholly unacquainted, and are ignorant 
of each other's necessities. Here are in a city fifty workmen-/ 
in silk and linen, and a thousand customers ; and these two 
ranks of men, so necessary to each other, can never rightly 
meet, till one man erects a shop, to which all the workmen 
and all the customers repair. Tn this province, grass rises 
in abundance : The inhabitants abound in cheese, and butter, 
and cattle ; but want bread and corn, which, in a neighbouring 
province, are in too great abundance for the use of the in- 
habitants. One man discovers this. He brings corn from 



. 



OF INTEREST. 325 

the one province and returns with cattle; and supplying the 
wants of both, he is, so far, a common benefactor. As the 
people encrease in numbers and industry, the difficulty of 
their intercourse encreases : The business of the agency or*\ 
merchandize becomes more intricate ; and divides, subdivides, 
compounds, and mixes to a greater variety. In all these trans- 
actions, it is necessary, and reasonable, that a considerable 
part of the commodities and labour should belong to the I 
merchant, to whom, in a great measure, they are owing. I 
And these commodities he will sometimes preserve in kind, 
or more commonly convert into money, which is their com- 
mon representation. If gold and silver have encreased in the 
state together with the industry, it will require a great quan- 
tity of these metals to represent a great quantity of commo- 
dities and labour. If industry alone has encreased, the prices 
of every thing must sink, and a small quantity of specie will 

^serve as a representation. it 

There is no craving or demand of the human mind more con- 
stant and insatiable than that for exercise and employment ; 
and this desire seems the foundation of most of our passions 

l^and pursuits. Deprive a man of all business and serious occupa^ 
tion, he runs restless from one amusement to another ; and 
the weight and oppression, which he feels from idleness, is so 
great, that he forgets the ruin which must follow him from 
his immoderate expences. Give him a more harmless way of 
employing his mind or body, he is satisfied, and feels no longer 
that insatiable thirst after pleasure. But if the employment 
you give him be lucrative, especially if the profit be attached 
to every particular exertion of industry, he has gain so often 
in his eye, that he acquires, by degrees, a passion for it, and 
knows no such pleasure as that of seeing the daily encrease >, 
of his fortune. And this is the reason why trade encreases \ 
frugality, and why, among merchants, there is the same i 
overplus of misers above prodigals, as, among the possessors / 
of land, there is the contrary. 

> Commerce encreases industry, by conveying it readily from 
one member of the state to another, and allowing none of it 
to perish or become useless. It encreases frugality, by giving 
occupation to men, and employing them in the arts of gain, 
which soon engage their affection, and remove all relish for 
pleasure and expense. It is an infallible consequence of all 
industrious professions, to beget frugality, and make the love 



/; 



S2G ESSAY IV. 

[ of gain prevail over the love of pleasure. Among lawyers and 
physicians who have any practice, there are many more who 
live within their income, than who exceed it, or even live up 
to it. But lawyers and physicians beget no industry ; and it 
is even at the expence of others they acquire their riches ; so 
that they are sure to diminish the possessions of some of their 
'fellow-citizens, as fast as they encrease their own. Merchants, 
on the contrary, beget industry, by serving as canals to con- 
vey it through every corner of the state : And at the same 
time, by their frugality, they acquire great power over that 
industry, and collect a large property in the labour and com- 
modities, which they are the chief instruments in producing. 
There is no other profession, therefore, except merchandize, 
which can make the monied interest considerable, or, in other 
words, can encrease industry, and, by also cncreasing fru- 
gality, give a great command of that industry to particular 
members of the society. Without commerce, the state must 
consist chiefly of landed gentry, whose prodigality and ex- 
pence make a continual demand for borrowing ; and of pea- 
sants, who have no sums to supply that demand. The money 
never gathers into large stocks or sums, which can be lent at 
interest. It is dispersed into numberless hands, who either 
squander it in idle show and magnificence, or employ it in 
the purchase of the common necessaries of life. Commerce 
alone assembles it into considerable sums ; and this effect it 
has merely from the industry which it begets, and the fru- 
gality which it inspires, independent of that particular quan- 
tity of precious metal which may circulate in the state. 

Thus an encrease of commerce, by a necessary conse- 
quence, raises a great number of lenders, and by that means 
produces lowness of interest. We must now consider how 
far this encrease of commerce diminishes the profits arising 
from that profession, and gives rise to the third circumstance 
requisite to produce lowness of interest. 

It may be proper to observe on this head, that low interest 
and low profits of merchandize are two events, that mutually 
forward each other, and are both originally derived from that 
extensive commerce, which produces opulent merchants, and 
renders the monied interest considerable. Where merchants 
possess great stocks, whether represented by few or many 
pieces of metal, it must frequently happen, that, when they 
either become tired of business, or leave heirs unwilling or 



OF INTEREST. 327 

unfit to engage in commerce, a great proportion of these 
riches naturally seeks an annual and secure revenue. The 
plenty diminishes the price, and makes the lenders accept of 
a low interest. This consideration obliges many to keep 
their stock employed in trade, and rather be content with 
low profits than dispose of their money at an under-value. 
On the other hand, when commerce has become extensive, 
and employs large stocks, there must arise rivalships among 
the merchants, which diminish the profits of trade, at the 
same time that they encrease the trade itself. The low pro- 
fits of merchandize induce the merchants to accept more 
willingly of a low interest, when they leave off business, and 
begin to indulge themselves in ease and indolence. It is 
needless, therefore, to enquire which of these circumstances, 
to wit, low interest or low profits, is the cause, and which the 
effect? They both arise from an extensive commerce, and 
mutually forward each other. No man will accept of lowT\ 
profits, where he can have high interest ; and no man will 
accept of low interest, where he can have high profits. An 
extensive commerce, by producing large stocks, diminishes 
both interest and profits ; and is always assisted, in its 
diminution of the one, by the proportional sinking of the 
other. I may add, that, as low profits arise from the encrease 
of commerce and industry, they serve in their turn to its 
farther encrease, by rendering the commodities cheaper, en- 
couraging the consumption, and heightening the industry. 
And thus, if we consider the whole connexion of causes and 
effects, interest is the barometer of the state, and its low- 
ness is a sign almosfc infallible of the flourishing condition of 
a people. It proves the encrease of industry, and its prompt 
circulation through the whole state, little inferior to a 
demonstration. And though, perhaps, it may not be im- 
possible but a sudden and a great check to commerce may 
have a momentary effect of the same kind, by throwing so 
many stocks out of trade ; it must be attended with such 
misery and want of employment in the poor, that, besides its 
short duration, it will not be possible to mistake the one case 
for the other. 

Those who have asserted, that the plenty of money was^ 
the cause of low interest, seem to have taken a collateral 
effect for a cause ; since the same industry, which sinks the 
interest, commonly acquires great abundance of the precious 



328 ESSAY IV. 

/metals. A variety of fine manufactures, with vigilant enter- 
prising merchants, will soon draw money to a state, if it be 
any where to be found in the world. The same cause, by 
multiplying the conveniencies of life, and encreasing industry, 
collects great riches into the hands of persons, who are not 
proprietors of land, and produces, by that means, a lowness 
of interest. But though both these effects, plenty of money 
land low interest, naturally arise from commerce and in- 
Idustry, they are altogether independent of each other. For 
suppose a nation removed into the Pacific ocean, without any 
foreign commerce, or any knowledge of navigation : Sup- 
pose, that this nation possesses always the same stock of 
coin, but is continually encreasing in its numbers and in- 
dustry : It is evident, that the price of every commodity 
must gradually diminish in that kingdom ; since it is the 
proportion between money and any species of goods, which 
fixes their mutual value ; and, upon, the present supposition, 
the conveniencies of life become every day more abundant, 
without any alteration in the current specie. A less quantity 
of money, therefore, among this people, will make a rich 
man, during the time3 of industry, than would suffice to that 
purpose, in ignorant and slothful ages. Less money will 
build a house, portion a daughter, buy an estate, support a 
manufactory, or maintain a family and equipage. These are 
the uses for which men borrow money ; and therefore, the 
greater or less quantity of it in a state has no influence on 
the interest. But it is evident, that the greater or less 
stock of labour and commodities must have a great influence; 
since we really and in effect borrow these, when we take 
money upon interest. It is true, when commerce is extended 
all over the globe, the most industrious nations always 
abound most with the precious metals : So that low interest 
and plenty of money are in fact almost inseparable. But 
still it is of consequence to know the principle whence any 
phenomenon arises, and to distinguish between a cause and 
a concomitant effect. Besides that the speculation is curious, 
it may frequently be of use in the conduct of public affairs. 
At least, it must be owned, that nothing can be of more use 
than to improve, by practice, the method of reasoning on 
these subjects, which of all others are the most important ; 
though they are commonly treated in the loosest and most 
careless manner. 



OF INTEREST. 329 

Another reason of this popular mistake with regard to the 
cause of low interest, seems to be the instance of some na- 
tions ; where, after a sudden acquisition of money or of the 
precious metals, by means of foreign conquest, the interest 
has fallen, not only among them, but in all the neighbouring 
states, as soon as that money was dispersed, and had in- 
sinuated itself into every corner. Thus, interest in Spain 
fell near a half immediately after the discovery of the West 
Indies, as we are informed by Garcilasso de la Vega: 
And it has been ever since gradually sinking in every king- 
dom of Europe. Interest in Rome, after the conquest of 
Egypt, fell from 6 to 4 per cent, as we learn from Dion. 1 

The causes of the sinking of interest, upon such an event, 
seem different in the conquering country and in the neigh- 
bouring states ; but in neither of them can we justly ascribe 
that effect merely to the encrease of gold and silver. 

In the conquering country, it is natural to imagine, that 
this new acquisition of money will fall into a few hands, and 
be gathered into large sums, which seek a secure revenue, 
either by the purcha.se of land or by interest; and con- 
sequently the same effect follows, for a little time, as if there 
had been a great accession of industry and commerce. The 
encrease of lenders above the borrowers sinks the interest ; 
and so much the faster, if those, who have acquired those 
large sums, find no industry or commerce in the state, and 
no method of employing their money but by lending it at 
interest. But after this new mass of gold and silver has 
been digested, and has circulated through the whole state, 
affairs will soon return to their former situation ; while the 
landlords and new money-holders, living idly, squander 
above their income ; and the former daily contract debt, and 
the latter encroach on their stock till its final extinction. 
The whole money may still be in the state, and make itself 
felt by the encrease of prices : But not being now collected 
into any large masses or stocks, the disproportion between 
the borrowers and lenders is the same as formerly, and con- 
sequently the high interest returns. 

Accordingly we find, in Rome, that, so early as Tiberius's 
time, interest had again mounted to 6 per cent. 2 though no 
accident had happened to drain the empire of money. In 
Tkajan's time, money lent on mortgages in Italy, bore 

1 Lib. 51, 21. 2 Columella, lib. iii. cap. 3. 



330 ESSAY V. 

6 per cent. 1 ; on common securities in Bithynia, 12 2 . And 
if interest in Spain has not risen to its old pitch ; this can 
be ascribed to nothing but the continuance of the same cause 
that sunk it, to wit, the large fortunes continually made in 
the Indies, which come over to Spain from time to time, and 
supply the demand of the borrowers. By this accidental 
and extraneous cause, more money is to be lent in Spain, 
that is, more money is collected into large sums than would 
otherwise be found in a state, where there are so little com- 
merce and industry. 

As to the reduction of interest, which has followed in 
England, France, and other kingdoms of Europe, that 
have no mines, it has been gradual ; and has not proceeded 
from the encrease of money, considered merely in itself ; but 
from that of industry, which is the natural effect of the 
former encrease, in that interval, before it raises the price of 
labour and provisions. For to return to the foregoing sup- 
position; if the industry of England had risen as much 
from other causes, (and that rise might easily have happened, 
though the stock of money had remained the same) must not 
all the same consequences have followed, which we observe 
at present? The same people would, in that case, be found 
in the kingdom, the same commodities, the same industry, 
manufactures, and commerce ; and consequently the same 
merchants, with the same stocks, that is, with the same 
command over labour and commodities, only represented by 
a smaller number of white or yellow pieces ; which being a 
circumstance of no moment, would only affect the waggoner, 
porter, and trunk-maker. Luxury, therefore, manufactures, 
arts, industry, frugality, nourishing equally as at present, it 
is evident, that interest must also have been as low ; since 
that is the necessary result of all these circumstances ; so far 
as they determine the profits of commerce, and the propor- 
tion between the borrowers and lenders in any state. 



Essay V. Of the Balance of Trade, 

It is very usual, in nations ignorant of the nature of com- 
merce, to prohibit the exportation of commodities, and to 
preserve among themselves whatever they think valuable and 

1 Plinii epist. lib. vii. ep. 18. 2 Id. lib. x. ep. 62. 



OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 331 

useful. They do not consider, that, in this prohibition, they 
act directly contrary to their intention ; and that the more is I 
exported of any commodity, the more will be raised at home, 
of which they themselves will always have the first offer. 

It is well known to the learned, that the ancient laws of 
Athens rendered the exportation of figs criminal ; that being 
supposed a species of fruit so excellent in Attica, that the 
Athenians deemed it too delicions for the palate of any 
foreigner. And in this ridiculous prohibition they were so 
much in earnest, that informers were thence called sycophants 
among them, from two Greek words, which signify figs and 
discoverer. 1 2 There are proofs in many old acts of parliament 
of the same ignorance in the nature of commerce, particularly 
in the reign of Edward III. And to this day, in France, 
the exportation of corn is almost always prohibited ; in order, 
as they say, to prevent famines ; though it is evident, that 
nothing contributes more to the frequent famines, which so 
much distress that fertile country. 

The same jealous fear, with regard to money, has also 
prevailed among several nations ; and it required both reason 
and experience to convince any people, that these prohibitions 
serve to no other purpose than to raise the exchange against 
them, and produce a still greater exportation. 

These errors, one may say, are gross and palpable : But 
there still prevails, even in nations well acquainted with 
commerce, a strong jealousy with regard to the balance of i 
trade, and a fear, that all their gold and silver may be leaving i 
them. This seems to me, almost in every case, a groundless 
apprehension ; and I should as soon dread, that all our springs 
and rivers should be exhausted, as that money should abandon 
a kingdom where there are people and industry. Let us 
carefully preserve these latter advantages ; and we need never 
be apprehensive of losing the former. 

It is easy to observe, that all calculations concerning the 
balance of trade are founded on very uncertain facts and 
suppositions. The custom-house books are allowed to be an 
insufficient ground of reasoning ; nor is the rate of exchange 

1 Pltjt. Be Curiositate. dom, &c. 

2 [For this sentence Editions H to M Edition N reads : There are proofs 
read : I have been told, that many old in many old acts of the Scotch parlia- 
acts of parliament show the same ignor- ment of the same ignorance in the 
ance in the nature of Commerce. And nature of commerce. And to this day, 
to this day, in a neighbouring king- in France, &c] 



332 BS8AT V. 

much better ; unless we consider it with all nations, and know 
also the proportions of the several sums remitted ; which one 
may safely pronounce impossible. Every man, who has ever 
reasoned on this subject, has always proved his theory, what- 
ever it was, by facts and calculations, and by an enumeration 
of all the commodities sent to all foreign kingdoms. 

The writings of Mr. Gee struck the nation with an uni- 
versal panic, when they saw it plainly demonstrated, by a 
detail of particulars, that the balance was against them for 
so considerable a sum as must leave them without a single 
shilling in five or six years. But luckily, twenty years have^ 
since elapsed, with an expensive foreign war ; yet is it com- 
monly supposed, that money is still more plentiful among us 
than in any former period. 

Nothing can be more entertaining on this head than Dr. 
Swift ; an author 1 so quick in discerning the mistakes and 
absurdities of others. He says, in his short view of the state 
of Ireland, that the whole cash of that kingdom formerly 
amounted but to 500,000?. ; that out of this the Irish remitted 
every year a neat million to England, and had scarcely any 
other source* from which they could compensate themselves, 
and little other foreign trade than the importation of French 
wines, for which they paid ready money. The consequence 
of this situation, which must be owned to be disadvantageous, 
was, that, in a course of three years, the current money of 
Ireland, from 500,000Z. was reduced to less than two. And 
at present, I suppose, in a course of 30 years it is absolutely 
nothing. Yet I know not how, that opinion of the advance 
of riches in Ireland, which gave the Doctor so much indig- 
nation, seems still to continue, and gain ground with every 
body. 

In short, this apprehension of the wrong balance of trade, 
appears of such a nature, that it discovers itself, wherever 
one is out of humour with the ministry, or is in low spirits ; 
and as it can never be refuted by a particular detail of all the 
exports, which counterbalance the imports, it may here be 
proper to form a general argument, that they may prove the 
impossibility of this event, as long as we preserve our people 
and our industry. 

1 [Edition* H and I read : An author, spleen, prejudice, and passion than any 
who has more humour than knowledge, of these qualities.] 
mure taste than judgment, and more 



OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 883 

Suppose four- fifths of all the money in Great Britain 
to be annihilated in one night, and the nation reduced to the 
same condition, with regard to specie, as in the reigns of the 
Harrys and Edwards, what would be the consequence? 
Must not the price of all labour and commodities sink in 
proportion, and everything be sold as cheap as they were in 
those ages ? What nation could then dispute with us in any 
foreign market, or pretend to navigate or to sell manufactures 
at the same price, which to us would afford sufficient profit ? 
In how little time, therefore, must this bring back the money 
which we had lost, and raise us to the level of all the neigh- 
bouring nations ? Where, after we have arrived, we immedi- 
ately lose the advantage of the cheapness of labour and 
commodities ; and the farther flowing in of money is stopped 
by our fulness and repletion. 

Again, suppose, that all the money of Great Britain 
were multiplied fivefold in a night, must not the contrary 
effect follow ? Must not all labour and commodities rise to 
such an exorbitant 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 disadvantages ? 

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. AH 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 happens, must for ever pre- 
vent it, without some violent external operation. 1 

1 There is another cause, though turns against us, and this becomes a 

more limited in its operation, which new encouragement to export ; as much 

chechs the wrong balance of trade, to as the charge of carriage and insurance 

erery particular nation to which the of the money which becomes due would 

kingdom trades. When we import more amount to. For the exchange can nevt-r 

goods than we export, the exchange rise but a little higher than that sum. 



334 ESSAY V. 

Can one imagine, that it had ever been possible, bj 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 p 
Or that all commodities could be sold in France for a tenth 
of the price which they would yield on the other side of the 
Pyrenees, without finding their way thither, and draining 
from that immense treasure ? What other reason, indeed, 
is there, why all nations, at present, gain in their trade 
with Spain and Portugal; but because it is impossible to, 
heap up money, more than any fluid, beyond its proper level 3f 
The sovereigns of these countries have shown, that they 
wanted not inclination to keep their gold and silver to them- 
selves, 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 communica- 
tion with the latter ; so in money, if the communication be 
cut off, by any material or physical impediment, (for all laws 
alone are ineffectual) there may, in such a case, be a very 
great inequality of money. Thus the immense distance of 
China, together with the monopolies of our India companies, 
obstructing the communication, preserve in Europe the gold 
and silver, especially the latter, in much greater plenty than 
they are found in that kingdom. But, notwithstanding this 
great obstruction, the force of the causes abovementioned is 
still evident. The skill and ingenuity 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 con- 
tinual 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 Barbary, would drain us of the overplus of our specie, 
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. 

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 com- 



OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 385 

inodities which are in each, province P Did not long experi- 
ence make people easy on this head, what a fund of gloomy 
reflections might calculations afford to a melancholy York- 
BHIReman, while he computed and magnified the sums drawn 
co 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 legisla- 
ture 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 kingdom 
has received any encrease of riches, can it reasonably be 
accounted for by any thing but the encrease of its art and 
industry? It was a common apprehension in England, 
before the union, as we learn from L'Abbe du Bos, 1 that 
Scotland would soon drain them of their treasure, were an 
open trade allowed ; and on the other side the Tweed a con- 
trary apprehension 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 Eoman 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 jealousy of princes and states, has brought 
itself nearly to a level ; and that the difference between one 
kingdom and another is not greater in this respect, than it 
is often between different provinces of the same kingdom. 
Men naturally flock to capital cities, sea-ports, and navigable 
rivers. There we find more men, more industry, more com- 
modities, and consequently more money ; but still the latter 
difference holds proportion with the former, and the level is 
preserved 2 . 

1 Les interets ? Angleterre mal- speak of the level of money, I menu 
entendns. always its proportional level to the corn- 
et must carefully be remarked, that modities, labour, industry, and skill, 
throughout this discourse, wherever I which is in the several states. And I 



33 ESSAY V. 

Our jealousy and our hatred of France are without 
bounds; and the former sentiment, at least, must be ac- 
knowledged reasonable 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 such abundance as to supplant, in some measure, all ale, 
and home-brewed liquors : But would we lay aside preju- 
dice, it would not be difficult to prove, that nothing 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 
product. 

Mareschal Vauban complains often, and with reason, of 
the absurd duties which load the entry of those wines of 
Languedoc, Guienne, and other southern provinces, that 
are imported into Britanny and Normandy. He enter- 
tained no doubt but these latter provinces could preserve 
their balance, notwithstanding the open commerce which he 
recommends. And it is evident, that a few leagues more 
navigation to England would make no difference ; or if it 
did, that it must operate alike on the commodities of both 
kingdoms. 

assert, that where these advantages are cattle, cheese, butter, of Derbyshire, 

double, triple, quadruple, to what they cannot draw the money of London, so 

are in the neighbouring states, the much as the manufactures of London 

money infallibly will also be double, draw the money of Derbyshire. But 

triple, quadruple. The only circum- this objection is only a seeming one : 

stance that can obstruct the exactness For so far as the transport of common" i- 

of these proportions, is the expense of ties is expensive, so far is thecommuni- 

transporting the commodities from one cation between the places obstructed 

place to another ; and this expense is and imperfect, 
sometimes unequal. Thus the corn, 



OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 337 

There is indeed one expedient by which it is possible to f 
sink, and another by which we may raise money beyond its 
natural level in any kingdom; but these cases, when ex- 
amined, 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 proportionably the price of labour and commodities,! 
and by that means either banish a great part of those pre- 
cious 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 con- 
sidering, that this would raise as much the price of every 
commodity, and reduce every man, in time, to the same con- 
dition as before. It is only in our public negociations and 
transactions with foreigners, that a greater stock of money 
is advantageous ; and as our paper is there absolutely in- 
significant, we feel, by its means, all the ill effects arising 
from a great abundance of money, without reaping any of 
the advantages 2 . 

Suppose that there are 12 millions of paper, which circu- 
late 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 millions, money in this state is below 
its level, compared with our neighbours ; and we must im- 

1 [Editions H to N read : With rise of the prices. A good effect of this 
which we are in this kingdom so much nature may follow too from paper- 
infatuated.] credit; but it is dangerous to precipi- 

2 We observed in Essay III. that tate matters, at the risk of losing all 
money, when encreasing, gives encou- by the failing of that credit, ae mvet 
ragement to industry, during the inter- happen upon any violent shock in pub- 
val between the encrease of money and lie affairs. 

VOL. III. Z 



338 ESSAY V. 

mediately 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 metals. 

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- 
credit. The French have no banks : Merchants bills do not 
there circulate as with us : Usury or lending on interest is 
not directly 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 CmNA-ware instead of plate; but the senate, 
foreseeing the consequence, prohibited the use of that brittle 
commodity beyond a certain extent ; while the use of silver- 
plate was left unlimited. And I suppose, in their late dis- 
tresses, 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 incon- 
veniency 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 commodities, 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 intrinsic value. 

1 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 
1 [This paragraph does not occur in Editions H to N.] 



OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 339 

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 bullion are not of so great con- 
sequence as not to admit of a compensation, and even an 
overbalance from the encrease of industry 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 merchant to 
be able to discount his bills upon occasion ; and every thing 
that facilitates this species of traffic is favourable to the 
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 
called a Bank- Credit ; and is of this nature. A man goes 
to the bank and finds surety to the amount, we shall sup- 
pose, of a thousand pounds. This money, or any part of 
it, he has the liberty of drawing out whenever he pleases, 
and he pays only the ordinary interest for it, while it is in 
his hands. He may, when he pleases, repay any sum so 
small as twenty pounds, and the interest 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 
payments, 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 nothing except during the very moment in which it 
is of service to him : And this circumstance is of equal ad- 
vantage as if he had borrowed money at much lower interest. 
Merchants, likewise from this invention, acquire a great 

z 2 



340 ESSAY V. 

facility in supporting each other's credit, which is a con- 
siderable security against bankruptcies. 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. 

1 After this practice had taken place during some years at 
Edinburgh, several companies of merchants at Glasgow 
carried the matter farther. They associated themselves into 
different banks, and issued notes so low as ten shillings, 
which they used in all payments for goods, manufactures, 
tradesmen's labour 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 opera- 
tions as if it were six or seven ; and merchants were thereby 
enabled to trade to a greater extent, and to require less 
profit in all their transactions. But whatever other advan- 
tages result from these inventions, it must still be allowed 
that, besides giving too great facility to credit, which is dan- 
gerous, 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 particular. It was 
found, upon the recoinage made after the union, that there 
was near a million of specie in that country : But notwith- 
standing the great encrease of riches, commerce and manu- 
factures of all kinds, it is thought, that, even where there 
i3 no extraordinary drain made by England, the current 
specie will not now amount to a third of that sum. 

2 But as our projects of paper-credit are almost the only 
expedient, 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 should all 
exclaim against as destructive, 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 

1 [This paragraph does not occur in our darling projects of papcr-rrodit 
Editions H to N.] are pernicious, being almost. &c] 

* [Editions H to N resume : But as 



OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 341 

found, that the immediate consequence of such an event 
would be the attraction of an equal sum from all the neigh- 
bouring kingdoms. Nor does there seem to be any neces- 
sary bounds set, by the nature of things, to this practice of 
hoarding. A small city, like Geneva, continuing this 
policy for ages, might engross nine tenths of the money of 
Eueope. 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 neighbours. 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 ai 
height, bursts and destroys the vessel that contains it; andj 
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 1 2,700,000 pounds,) we 
rather reject their concurring testimony, than admit of a 
fact, which agrees so ill with our inveterate prejudices. It 
is indeed probable, 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, rapacious, frugal, and almost absolute 
monarch 9 Nor is it probable, that the diminution of circu- 
lating money was ever sensibly felt by the people, or ever did 
them any prejudice. The sinking of the prices of all com- 
modities would immediately replace it, by giving England 
the advantage in its commerce with the neighbouring king- 
doms. 

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 2 a sum not much inferior 
to that of Harry VII. ? For all the Greek historians 3 and 
orators 4 agree, that the Athenians collected in the citadel 

1 [Editions H to P read: 1,700,000.] s Tetocydides, lib. ii. 13 and Diod. 

2 [Editions H to P read : A sum Sic. lib. xii. 40. 

greater than that of Harry VII. (There * Vid._ ^Eschinis (p. 688) ^Demos- 

were about eight ounces of silver in a thenis 
pound sterling in Harry VII.'s time.] 



342 ESSAY V. 

more than 10,000 talents, which they afterwards dissipated 
in their own ruin, in rash and imprudent enterprises. But 
when this money was set a running, and began to communi- 
cate with the surrounding fluid ; what was the consequence ? 
Did it remain in the state ? No. For we find, by the memo- 
rable census mentioned by Demosthenes 1 and Polybius 2 , 
that, in about fifty years afterwards, the whole value of the 
republic, comprehending lands, houses, commodities, slaves, 
and money, was less than 6,000 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 Athenians 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 
Harry VII. : Yet these two monarchs in thirty years 3 col- 
lected from the small kingdom of Macedon, a larger treasure 
than that of the English monarch. Paulus iEMiLius 
brought to Rome about 1,700,000 pounds Sterling* Pliny 
says, 2,400,000. 5 And that was but a part of the Macedonian 
treasure. The rest was dissipated by the resistance and flight 
of Perseus. 6 

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 their treasury. Here then is a sum hoarded of 
1,800,000 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, observes any want of money more than could be 
supposed in a country 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 

1 Tlfpl tvnnoplas, 183. * Vex. Patkrc, lib. i. cap. 9. 

2 Lib. ii. cap. 62. Lib. xxxiii. cap. 3. 
Titi Lrvii, lib. xlv. cap. 40. Tin Livii, ibid. 



OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 343 

encreased its treasure since 1714, the time when Stanian 
wrote his judicious account of Switzerland. 1 

The account given by Appian 2 of the treasure of the 
Ptolemies, 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 Egyptian 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. Arbuthnot's computation. And yet Appian 
says, that he extracted his account from the public records ; 
and he was himself a native of Alexandria. 

From these principles we may learn what judgment we 
ought to form of those numberless bars, obstructions, and 
imposts, which all nations of Europe, and none more than 
England, have put upon trade ; from an exorbitant desire j 
of amassing money, which never will heap up beyond its j 
level, while it circulates ; or from an ill- grounded apprehen- 1 
sion of losing their specie, which never will sink below it. I 
Could any thing scatter our riches, it would be such impolitic \ 
contrivances. But this general ill effect, however, results | 
from them, that they deprive neighbouring nations of that I 
free communication 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 
money, 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 which 
are founded on the jealousy above-mentioned. A tax on 
German linen encourages home manufactures, and thereby 

1 The poYerty which Stanian speaks the people are not poorer than in the 

of is only to be seen in the most moun- diocese of Saltsbtjrgh on the one hand, 

tainous cantons, where there is no com- or Savoy on the other, 
modity to bring money. And even there 2 Proem. 10. 



344 ESSAY V. 

multiplies our people and industry. A tax on brandy en- 
creases the sale of rum, and supports our southern colonies. 
And as it is necessary, that imposts should be levied, for thet 
support of government, 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 government than at present : Our 
people might thereby afford to drink commonly a better and 
more wholesome liquor ; and no prejudice would ensue to the 
balance of trade, of which we are so jealous. The manufac- 
ture of ale beyond the agriculture is but inconsiderable, and 
gives employment to few hands. The transport of wine 
ancj 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 now poor and beggarly ? Has not the money left them, 
with which they formerly abounded P 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 fron^' 
it. Where the seat of government 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 methods of carrying 
away money, and are in time commonly attended 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 long 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 countiies whence it came, an$ has followed 



OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 345 

that art and industry, by which at first it was acquired. 
1 For above a thousand years, the money of Europe has been 
flowing to Eome, by an open and sensible current ; but it has 
been emptied by many secret and insensible canals : And the 
fvaaLaf iad afliay bDd^Qmm&fb e 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 circum- 
stance, it ought only to be so far as it affects the former. 

2 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 industry very far, where 
all the surrounding states are buried in ignorance, sloth, and 
barbarism. 

It is obvious, that the domestic industry of a people can- 
not be hurt by the greatest prosperity of their neighbours ; 
and as this branch of commerce is undoubtedly the most im- 
portant in any extensive kingdom, we are so far removed 
from all reason of jealousy. But I go farther, and observe,^ 
that where an open communication 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 extremely rude and 

1 [This sentence is not in Editions H 2 [This Essay first appeared in Edi- 

and I.] tion M. See p. 72.] 



346 ESSAY VI. 

imperfect. Every improvement, which we 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 ad- 
vanced state of our manufactures, we daily adopt, in every 
art, the inventions and improvements of our neighbours. The 
commodity is first imported from abroad, to our great dis- 
content, 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 neigh- 
bours 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 con- 
tinue their instructions, the arts must fall into a state of 
languor, and lose that emulation and novelty, which con- 
tribute so much to their advancement. 

The encrease of domestic industry lays the foundation of 
foreign 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 ex- 
change. In this respect, 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 pro- 
duce of my industry, and afford me the produce of theirs in 
return. 

Nor needs any state entertain apprehensions, that their 
neighbours will improve to such a degree in every art and 
manufacture, as to have no demand from them. Nature, by| 
giving a diversity of geniuses, climates, and soils, to different | 
nations, has secured their mutual intercourse and commerce, I 
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 industrious neighbours. The inhabitants, 
having become opulent and skilful, desire to have every com- 
modity in the utmost perfection ; and as they have plenty of 
commodities to give in exchange, they make large importa- 
tions from every foreign country. The industry of the nations, 



OF THE JEALOUSY OF TRADE. 347 

from whom they import, receives 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 in-'j 
terfering of our neighbours in that manufacture be a loss toi 
us? I answer, that, when any commodity is denominated the 
staple of a kingdom, it is supposed that this kingdom has 
some peculiar and natural advantages for raising the com- 
modity ; and if, notwithstanding 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 in- 
dustry 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 continue, 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 appears to be a demand. We need not appre- 
hend, that all the objects of industry will be exhausted, or 
that our manufacturers, 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 revolutions and uncertainties, 
to which every particular branch of commerce will always be 
exposed. 

The only commercial state, that ought to dread the im- 
provements 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, nourish only by their being \ 
the brokers, and factors, and carriers of others. Such a 1 
people may naturally apprehend, that, as soon as the neigh- 
bouring states come to know and pursue their interest, they 
will take into their own hands the management of their 



348 ESSAY VH. 

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 genera- 
tions, 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 encrease by the en- 
crease of industry iu the neighbouring states, even a people 
whose commerce stands on this precarious basis, may at first 
reap a considerable profit from the flourishing condition of 
their neighbours. The Dutch, having mortgaged all their 
revenues, make not such a figure in political transactions as 
formerly ; 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 suc- 
cess* we should reduce all our neighbouring nations to the 
same state of sloth and ignorance that prevails in Morocco 
and the coast of Barbary. But what would be the con- 
sequence ? They could send us no commodities : They could 
take none from us: Our domestic commerce itself would lan- 
guish for want of emulation, example and instruction : And we 
ourselves should soon fall into the same abject conditiou, to 
which we had reduced them. I shall therefore venture to 
acknowledge, that, not only 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 nations, would flourish more, did 
their sovereigns and ministers adopt such enlarged and 
benevolent sentiments towards each other. 



Essay VII. Of the Balance 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 Xenophon, l in his Institution of Cyrus, represents the 
combination of the Asiatic powers to have arisen from a 
jealousy of the encreasing force of the Medes and Persians ; 
and though that elegant composition should be supposed 

1 Lib. i. 5, 3. 



OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 349 

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 l 
represents the league, which was formed against Athens, 
and which produced the Peloponnesian war, as entirely 
owing to this principle. And after the decline of Athens, 
when the Thebans and Lacedemonians disputed for sove- 
reignty, 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 generosity, as they pre- 
tended, but in reality from their jealousy of the conquerors. 2 

Whoever will read Demosthenes's oration for the Meg- 
alopolitans, may see the utmost refinements on this princi- 
ple, that ever entered into the head of a Venetian or Eng- 
lish speculatist. And upon the first rise of the Mace- 
donian power, this orator immediately discovered the danger, 
sounded the alarm throughout all Greece, and at last as- 
sembled that confederacy under the banners of Athens, 
which fought the great and decisive 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 consider, indeed, the small number of inhabitants 
in any one republic, compared to the whole, the great diffi- 
culty of forming sieges in those times, and the extraordinary 
bravery and discipline of every freeman among that noble 
people ; we shall conclude, that the balance of power was, 
of itself, sufficiently secured in Greece, and needed not to 
have been guarded with that caution which may be requisite 
in other ages. But whether we ascribe 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. 

1 Lib. i. 23. 2 Xenoph. Hist. Graec. lib. vi. and vii. 



MO ESSAY Vn. 

The same principle, call it envy or prudence, which pro- 
duced the Ostracism of Athens, and Petalism of Syracuse, 
and expelled 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 at- 
thority. 

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 emu- 
lation, to interest himself in their quarrels, and to support 
the weaker side in every contest. This was the advice 
given by Alcibiades to Tissaphernes, 1 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 there 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 prudence, and which preserved distinct for several ages 
the partition made after the death of that famous conqueror. 
The fortune and ambition of Antigonus 2 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 Macedonians as the only real military force, with whom 
they had any intercourse, they kept always a watchful eye 
over that part of the world. The Ptolemies, in particular, 
supported first Aratus and the Achaeans, and then Cleo- 
menes king of Sparta, from no other view than as a counter- 
balance to the Macedonian monarchs. For this is the ac- 
count which Poltbius gives of the Egyptian politics.* 

The reason, why it is supposed, that the ancients were 
entirely ignorant of the balance of power, seems to be 
drawn from the Eoman history more than the Grecian ; 
and as the transactions 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 confederacy against them, as might 
naturally have been expected from the rapid conquests and 

1 TllUCYD. lib. viii.46. 2 Dion. Sic. lib. xx. 106. Lib. ii. cap. 51. 



OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 351 

declared ambition ; but were allowed peaceably to subdue their 
neighbours, one after another, till they extended their dominion 
over the whole known world. Not to mention the fabulous 
history of their l Italic wars'] there was, upon Hannibal's 
invasion of the Soman state, a remarkable 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) 2 that this was a contest for universal empire ; 
yet no prince or state seems to have been the least alarmed 
about the event or issue of the quarrel. Philip of 
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 stipu- 
lated, 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 
commonwealths. 3 

The Ehodian and Achaean republics are much celebrated 
by ancient historians for their wisdom and sound policy ; 
yet both of them assisted the Romans in their wars against 
Philip and Antiochus. And what may be esteemed still a 

1 [Editions H and L add as a note : sented as fabulous. I wou'd willingly, 
There have strong suspicions, of .late, therefore, in my private sentiments, 
arisen among critics, and, in my opinion, divide the matter with these critics; 
not without reason, concerning the first and allow, that the battles and victories 
ages of the Roman history; as if they and triumphs of those ages had been 
were almost entirely fabulous, 'till after extremely falsify'd by family memoirs, 
the sacking of the city by the Gauls ; as Cicero says they were : But as in 
and were even doubtful for some time the accounts of domestic factions, there 
afterwards, 'till the Greeks began to were two opposite relations transmitted 
give attention to Roman affairs, and to posterity, this both serv'd as a check 
commit them to writing. This scepti- upon fiction, and enabled latter histo- 
cism, however, seems to me, scarcely rians to gather some truth from corn- 
defensible in its full extent, with regard parison and reasoning. Half of the 
to the domestic history of Rome, which slaughter which Livy commits on the 
has some air of truth and probability, JEqui and the Volsci, would depopu- 
and cou'd scarce be the invention of an late France and Germany ; and that 
historian, who had so little morals or historian, tho' perhaps he may be justly 
judgment as to indulge himself in fiction charged as superficial, is at last shock'd 
and romance. The revolutions seem so himself with the incredibility of his 
well proportion'd to their causes : The narration. The same love of exaggera- 
progress of the factions is so conform- tion seems to have magnify'd the num- 
able to political experience : The man- bers of the Romans in their armies, 
ners and maxims of the age are so and census.] 

uniform and natural, that scarce any 2 It was observed by some, as appears 

real history affords more just reflection by the speech of Agelatjs of Natjpac- 

and improvement. Is not Machiavel's tum, in the general congress of Greece. 

comment on Livy (a work surely of See Polyk. lib. v. cap. 104. 

great judgment and genius) founded 3 Titi Livii. lib. xxiii. cap. 33. 
entirely on this period, which is repre- 



352 ESSAY VII. 

stronger proof, that this maxim was not generally known in 
those ages ; no ancient author has remarked the imprudence 
of these measures, nor has even blamed that absurd treat) 
above-mentioned, made by Philip with the Carthaginians. 
Princes and statesmen, in all ages, may, before-hand, be 
blinded in their reasonings with regard to events : Bui; 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 
greatness ; and never seem to have suspected, that they 
were forging their own chains, while they advanced the con- 
quests of their ally. A simple treaty and agreement between 
Massinissa and the Carthaginians, so much required by 
mutual interest, barred 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 as- 
sistance to the Carthaginians, during the war of the 
auxiliaries : ' Esteeming it requisite,' says Polybius, 1 ' both 
in order to retain 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 con- 
trast or opposition, 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 incapa- 
citate the neighbouring 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 sense and obvious reasoning, 
that it is impossible it could altogether have escaped anti- 
quity, where we find, in other particulars, so many marks of 
deep penetration 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 acknowledged among speculative reasoners, it has 

1 Lib. i. cap. 83. 



OF THE BALANCE OF POWEE. 353 

not, in practice, an authority much more extensive among 
those who govern the world. 

After the fall of the Soman empire, the form of govern- 
ment, established by the northern conquerors, incapacitated 
them, in 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 Chaeles. But the power of the 
house of Austria, founded on extensive but divided domin- 
ions, and their riches, derived chiefly from mines of gold 
and silver, were more likely to decay, of themselves, from 
internal defects, than to overthrow all the bulwarks raised 
against them. In less than a century, the force of that 
violent and haughty race was shattered, their opulence dis- 
sipated, their splendor eclipsed. A new power succeeded, 
more formidable to the liberties of Europe, possessing ail 
the advantages of the former, and labouring under none of 
its defects ; except a share of that spirit of bigotry and perse- 
cution, with which the house of Austria was so long, and 
still is so much infatuated. 

1 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 gov- 
ernment, that we may hope their vigour never will languish 
in so necessary and so just a cause. On the contrary, if we 

1 [Editions H to P proceed as fol- There remains rather room to hope, 

lows : Europe has now, for above a that, by maintaining the resistance for 

century, remained on the defensive some time, the natural revolutions of 

against the greatest force that ever, human affairs, together with unforeseen 

perhaps, was formed by the civil or events and accidents, may guard us 

political combination of mankind. And against universal monarchy, and pre- 

such is the influence of the maxim here serve the world from so great an evil, 

treated of, that tho' that ambitious In the three last of these general 

nation, in the five last general wars, wars, Britain has stood foremost in 

have been victorious in four, 1 and un- the glorious struggle ; and she still 

successful only in one, 2 they have not maintains her station, as guardiau of 

much enlarged their dominions, nor the general liberties of Europe, and 

acquired a total ascendant over Europe. patron of mankind.] 



1 Those concluded by tho peace of 2 That concluded by the peace of 

the Pyrenees, Nimequen, Kyswick, and Utrecht. 
Aix-la-Chapeixe. 

VOL. III. A A 



354 ESSAY VII. 

may judge by the past, their passionate ardour seems rather 
to require some moderation ; and they have oftener erred 
from a laudable excess than from a blameable 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, per- 
haps, from necessity ; but have always been too far pushed 
from obstinacy and passion. The same peace, which was 
afterwards made at Etswick in 1697, was offered so early 
as the year ninety-two; that concluded at Utrecht in 1 712 
might have been finished on as good conditions at Gertruy- 
tenberg in the year eight; and we might have given at 
Frankfort, in 1743, the same terms, which we were glad to 
accept of at Aix-la-Chapelle 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 ambition 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 reason- 
able terms of accommodation. Habent subjectos, tanquam 
8U08 : viles, ut alienos. All the world knows, that the factious 
vote of the House of Commons, in the beginning of the last 
parliament, 1 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 pos- 
terity, 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 pru- 
dence, has ever yet been guilty of. That remedy of funding, 
if it be a remedy, and not rather a poison, ought, in all rea- 
son, to be reserved 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 preju- 

[At the close of the parliament of 1734-41. Ed.] 



OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 355 

dicial ; and may, perhaps, in time, become still more preju- 
dicial another way, by begetting, as is usual, the opposite 
extreme, and rendering us totally careless and supine with 
regard to the fate of Europe. The Athenians, from the 
most bustling, intriguing, warlike people of Geeeoe, finding 
their error in thrusting themselves into every quarrel, aban- 
doned all attention to foreign affairs ; and in no contest ever 
took part on either side, except by their flatteries and com- 
plaisance to the victor. 

Enormous monarchies l are, probably, destructive to human 
nature ; in their progress, in their continuance, 2 and even in 
their downfall, which never can be very distant from their 
establishment. The military genius, which aggrandized the 
monarchy, soon leaves the court, the capital, and the center 
of such a government ; 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 sover- 
eign, live all at court ; and never will accept of military em- 
ployments, 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 blindly labours for the destruc- 
tion 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 limitation. 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 mistress, who 
approaches the prince. The troops are filled with Cravates 
and Tartars, Hussars and Cossacs ; intermingled, perhaps, 
with a few soldiers of fortune from the better provinces : 

1 [Editions H to : Such as Europe this, that mankind were generally in a 
is at present threatened with.] very disorderly, uncivilized condition, 

2 If the Eoman empire was of ad- before its establishment, 
vantage, it could only proceed from 

a a 'J 



356 ESSAY Vm. 

And the melancholy fate of the Roman emperors, from the 
same cause, is renewed over and over again, till the final dis- 
solution of the monarchy. 

Essay VIIL Of Taxes. 

There is a prevailing maxim, 1 among some reasoners, that 
every new tax creates a new ability in the subject to bear it, and 
that each encrease of public burdens encr eases proportionably 
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 dan- 
gerous, 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 consequence, 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 taxes 'are moderate, are laid on gradually, and 
affect not the necessaries of life, this consequence naturally 
follows ; and it is certain, 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 advan- 
tages. For we may observe, as a parallel instance, that the 
most commercial nations have not always possessed the 
greatest extent of fertile land ; but, on the contrary, that 
they have laboured under many natural disadvantages. Tyre, 
Athens, Carthage, Rhodes, Genoa, Venice, Holland, are 
strong examples to this purpose. And in all history, 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 pro- 
cure what their own climate refused them. And as to 
France, trade has come late into that kingdom, and seems 

1 [Editions H to P read : Among nominated Financiers and Maltotiers 
those whom in this country we call in Feawcb.] 
ways and means men, and who are de- 



OF TAXES. 867 

to. have been the effect of reflection and observation in an 
ingenious and enterprizing people, who remarked the riches 
acquired by such of the neighbouring nations as cultivated 
navigation and commerce. 

The places mentioned by Cicero, 1 as possessed of the 
greatest commerce in his time, are Alexandria, Colohus, 
Tyre, Sidon, Andros, Cyprus, Pamphylia, Lycia, Khodes, 
Chios, Byzantium, Lesbos, Smyrna, Miletum, Coos. All 
these, except Alexandria, were either small islands, or narrow 
territories. And that city owed its trade entirely to the hap- 
piness of its situation. 

Since therefore some natural necessities or disadvantages 
may be thought favourable to industry, why may not artificial 
burdens have the same effect ? Sir William Temple, 2 we 
may observe, 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 naturally prefer ease before labour, 
and will not take pains if they can live idle ; though when, 
by necessity, they have been inured to it, they cannot leave 
it, being grown a custom necessary to their health, and to 
their very entertainment. Nor perhaps is the change harder, 
from constant ease to labour, than from constant labour to 
ease.' After which the author proceeds to confirm his doc- 
trine, 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. 3 

1 Epist. ad Att. lib. ix. ep. n. riot. I have been told, by a consider- 

2 Account of the Netherlands, able manufacturer, that in the year 
chap. 6. 1740, when bread and provisions of all 

3 [Editions H to P insert as follows : kinds were very dear, his workmen not 
Tis always observed, in years of only made a shift to live, but paid 
scarcity, if it be not extreme, that the debts, which they had contracted in 
poor labour more, and really live better, former years, that were much more fa- 
than in years of great plenty, when vourable and abundant. 1 

they indulge themselves in idleness and This doctrine, therefore, with regard 



1 To this purpose see also Essay i. at the end. 



358 ESSAY VIII. 

The best taxes are such as are levied upon consumptions, 
especially 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 natu- 
rally 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 dis- 
advantage is, that they are expensive in the levying. 

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 defi- 
ciencies 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 im- 
pose. It is surprising, therefore, to see them have place 
among any civilized 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 altogether 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 his revenue. It is not easy, therefore, for a people to be 
altogether ruined by such taxes. 

Historians inform us, that one of the chief causes of the 
destruction of the Roman state, was the alteration, which 
Constantine introduced into the finances, by substituting 
an universal poll-tax, in lieu of almost all the tithes, customs, 
and excises, which formerly composed the revenue of the 
empire. The people, in all the provinces, were so grinded 

to taxes, may be admitted in 6ome de- as the contrary character is much more 

gree : But beware of the abuse. Exor- common, 'tis to be feared that taxes, all 

bitant taxes, like extreme necessity, over Europe, are multiplying to such 

destroy industry, by producing de- a degree, as will intirely crush all art 

spair ; and even before they reach this and industry ; tho', perhaps, their first, 

pitch, they raise the wages of the la- increase, together with other circum- 

bourer and manufacturer, and heighten stances, might have contributed to tho 

the price of all commodities. An at- growth of these advantages.] 
tentive disinterested legislature, will ob- ' [This clause was first added in 

serve the point when the emolument Edition Q.] 
ceases, and the prejudice begins : But 



) 



OF TAXES. 359 

and oppressed by the publicans, that they were glad to take 
refuge tinder the conquering arms of the barbarians ; whose 
dominion, as they had fewer necessities and less art, was 
found preferable to the refined tyranny of the Komans. 

*It is an opinion, zealously promoted by some political 
writers, 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 commodity, 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 industry, by which he is enabled 
to reach the end of the year. It is but just, that he should 
subject himself to the same hardships, if they deserve the 
name, for the sake of the publick, 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 imposed, and of laying it upon others : But as every 
man has the same inclination, and is upon the defensive ; no 
set of men can 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 

1 [Editions H to P omit the open- ture is chiefly lodged, and making them 

ing sentences as far as ' foreign mar- preserve great regard for trade and in- 

kets,' and read instead of them : There dustry. But I must confess, that this 

is a prevailing opinion, that all taxes, principle, tho' first advanced by a cele- 

however levied, fall upon the land at brated writer, has so little appearance 

last. Such an opinion may be useful of reason, that, were it not for his au- 

in Britain, by checking the landed thority, it had never been received by 

gentlemen, in whose hands our legisla- any body.] 



360 ESSAY IX. 

; burden with him. 1 They must be very heavy taxes, indeed, 
j and very injudiciously levied, which the artizan 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 
diametrically opposite to what we should expect on the first 
appearance. 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 encreasing his revenue, must allow all 
the bashaws and governors to oppress and abuse the subjects : 
And these he squeezes after their return from their govern- 
ment. Whereas, if he could impose a new tax, like our 
European princes, his interest would so far be united with 
that of his people, that he would immediately 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 Credit. 

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 in- 
struments either of conquest or defence; without trusting 
to extraordinary impositions, much less to borrowing, in 
times of disorder and confusion. Besides the immense sums 

1 [The concluding sentence is not in price of most species of labour nearly 

Editions H to 0. Ed. P. reads in its the same after the imposition of taxes, 

place : No labour in any commodities, I may add, that it has this effect upon 

that are exported, can be very con- the whole : For were any kind of la- 

*klerably raised in the price, without bour paid beyond its proportion, all 

losing the foreign market ; and as some hands would flock to it, and would soon 

part of almost every manufactory is sink it to a level with the rest] 
exported, this circumstance keeps tiu 



OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 361 

above mentioned, 1 which were amassed by Athens, and by 
the Ptolemies, and other successors of Alexander; we 
learn from Plato, 2 that the frugal Lacedemonians had also 
collected a great treasure; and Arrian 3 and Plutarch 4 
take notice of the riches which Alexander got possession of 
on the conquest of Susa and Ecbatana, and which were 
reserved, some of them, from the time of Cyrus. If I 
remember right, the scripture also mentions the treasure 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 
reserve. 5 Every one knows the treasure seized in Rome by 
Julius Caesar, during the civil wars: and we find after- 
wards, that the wiser emperors, Augustus, Tiberius, Ves- 
pasian, Severus, &c. always discovered the prudent fore- 
sight, of saving great sums against any public exigency. 

On the contrary, our modern expedient, which has become\ 
very general, is to mortgage the public revenues, and to 
trust that posterity will pay off the incumbrances contracted^ 
by their ancestors : And they, having before their eyes, so 
good an example of their wise fathers, have the same pru- 
dent 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, 6 beyond all con- 
troversy ; it seems pretty apparent, that the ancient maxims 
are, in this respect, more prudent than the modern; even 
though the latter had been confined within 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 expences are 
proportionably 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 

1 Essay V. Alexander found in Susa above 50,000 

2 Alcib. i. p. 123. talents. 

8 Lib. iii. 16 and 19. 5 Steabo, lib. iv. p. 188. 

4 Pltjt. in vita Alex. 36, 37. He 6 [Editions H to P add : Beyond 

makes these treasures amount to 80,000 the evidence of a hundred demonstra- 

talents, or about 1 5 millions sterl. Quin- tions.] 
tus Ctjetius (lib. v. cap. 2.) says, that 



362 ESSAY IX. 

even of a family, it should embrace maxims, large, durable, 
and generous, agreeably to the supposed extent of its exist- 
ence. To trust to chances and temporary expedients, is, 
indeed, what the necessity of human affairs frequently renders 
unavoidable : but whoever voluntarily depend on such re- 
sources, 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 en- 
gaging the state in rash enterprizes, or making it neglect 
military discipline, in confidence of its riches ; the abuses of 
mortgaging are more certain and inevitable ; poverty, impo- 
tence, and subjection to foreign powers. 

According to modern policy war is attended with every 
destructive circumstance; loss of men, encrease of taxes, 
decay 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 in- 
dustry, and atoned, in some degree, for the inevitable calami- 
ties of war. 

1 It is very tempting to a minister to employ such an 
expedient, as enables him to make a great figure during 
his administration, without overburthening the people with 
taxes, or exciting any immediate clamours against himself. 
The practice, therefore, of contracting debt will almost in- 
fallibly 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 

incumbrances 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 

foot possibly have embraced a wiser expedient for promoting 

'commerce 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 panegyrics on folly and a fever, on Busiris and 

Nero, had we not seen such absurd maxims patronized by 

V great ministers, and by a whole party among us. 2 

1 [This paragraph was added in Ed. 2 [Editions H to P add : And these 

Q.] puzzling arguments, (for they deserve 



OF PUBLIC CKEDIT. 363 

Let us examine the consequences of public debts, both in 
our domestic management, by their influence on commerce 
and industry ; and in our foreign transactions, by their effect 
on wars and negociations. 1 

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 
soever, there are never wanting hands enow 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 pos- 
sessed of funds, which will answer the most sudden demand 
that can be made upon him. No merchant thinks it neces- 
sary to keep by him any considerable cash. Bank-stock, or 
India-bonds, especially the latter, serve all the same pur- 
poses ; 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 scritoire, but bring him in 
a constant revenue. In short, our national debts furnishj 
merchants with a species of money, that is continually mul-j 
tiplying in their hands, and produces sure gain, besides the' 

not the name of specious) though they gives new encouragement to the first 

could not be the foundation of Loed dealer or the manufacturer and all his 

Orford's conduct, for he had more tradesmen, and makes them produce 

sense ; served at least to keep his par- more and better commodities of the 

tizans in countenance, and perplex the same species. A stagnation is here 

understanding of the nation.] pernicious, wherever it happens ; be- 

1 [Editions H to P add : There is a cause it operates backwards, and stops 

word, which is here in the mouth of or benumbs the industrious hand in its 

every body, and which, I find, has also production of what is useful to human 

got abroad, and is much employed by life. But what production we owe to 

foreign writers, 1 in imitation of the Change- alley, or even what consump- 

English ; and this is, circulation. tion, except that of coffee, and pen, ink, 

This word serves as an account of and paper, I have not yet learned ; nor 

every thing ; and though I confess, that can one forsee the loss or decay of any 

I have sought for its meaning in the one beneficial commerce or commodity, 

present subject, ever since I was a though that place and all its inhabitants 

school-boy, I have never yet been able were for ever buried in the ocean, 
to discover it. What possible advan- But though this term has never been 

tage is there which the nation can reap explained by those who insist so much 

by the easy transference of stock from on the advantages that result from a 

hand to hand ? Or is there any parallel circulation, there seems, however, to be 

to be drawn from the circulation of some benefit of a similar kind, arising 

other commodities, to that of chequer- from our incumbrances : As indeed, 

notes and India bonds ? Where a manu- what human evil is there, which is not 

facturer has a quick sale of his goods attended with some advantage ? This 

to the merchant, the merchant to the we shall endeavour to explain, that we 

shopkeeper, the shopkeeper to his cus- may estimate the weight which we 

tomers ; this enlivens industry, and ought to allow it.] 



Melon, Du Tot, Law, in the pamphlets published in France. 



364 ESSAY IX. 

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 com- 
merce is 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 purchases of lands; and land has 
many disadvantages in comparison 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 plea- 
sures it affords, and the authority it gives, it soon converts 
the citizen into the country gentleman. More men, there- \ 
fore, with large stocks and incomes, may naturally be sup- 
posed to continue in trade, where there are public debts ; and j 
this, it must be owned, is of some advantage to commerce,] 
by diminishing its profits, promoting circulation, and en-| 
couraging industry. 1 

But, in opposition to these two favourable circumstances, 
perhaps of no very great importance, weigh the many dis- 
advantages which attend our public debts, in the whole 
interior ceconomy 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 

1 [Editions H to add as a note : the cheaper may they expect to borrow ; 
On this head, I shall observe, without contrary to first appearance, and con- 
interrupting the thread of the argument, trary to common opinion. The profits 
that the multiplicity of our public debts of trade have an influence on interest, 
serves rather to sink the interest, and See Essay IV.] 
that the more the government borrows, 



OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 3G5 

interest, 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 consequences. 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 kingdom. There is more difference 
between the prices of all provisions in Paeis and Languedoc, 
than between those in London and Yoekshiee. l The im- 
mense greatness, indeed, of London, 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 eruption, or even immediate 
danger, of public disorders must alarm all the stockholders, 
whose property is the most precarious of any ; and will make 
them fly to the support of government, whether menaced by 
Jacobitish violence or democratical frenzy. 

Secondly, Public stocks, being a kind of paper-credit, have 
all the disadvantages attending that species of money. They 
banish gold 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. 2 

Thirdly, The taxes, which are levied to pay the interests of 
these debts, 3 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 

1 [The remainder of this paragraph dies itself in a little time : The money- 
was added in Ed. Q,.] soon flows out into all the neighbouring 

2 [Edition P adds : We may also nations : The prices fall to a level : And 
remark, that this increase of prices, de- industry may be continued as before ; a 
rived from paper-credit, has a more relief, which cannot be expected, where 
durable and a more dangerous influence the circulating specie consists chiefly of 
than when it arises from a great increase paper, and has no intrinsic value.] 

of gold and silver: Where an accidental 3 [Editions H to N read: Are a 

overflow of money raises the price of check upon industry, heighten the price 
labor and commodities, the evil reme- of labour, and are an oppr. &c] 



\ 



366 ESSAY IX. 

funds, in that view, give great encouragement to an useless 
and unactive life. 

But though the injury, that arises to commerce and in- 
dustry 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 transactions with other states in wars and negocia- 
tions. The ill, there, is pure and unmixed, without any 
favourable circumstance to atone for it ; and it is an ill too of 
a nature the highest and most important. 

We have, indeed, been told, that the public is no weaker 
upon account of its debts ; since they are mostly due among 
ourselves, 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 prin- 
ciples. I ask, Is it possible, in the nature of things, to over- 
burthen 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 pro- 
portion observed between the laborious and the idle part of 
Iit. But if all our present taxes be mortgaged, must we not 
invent new ones ? And may not this matter be carried to a 
length that is ruinous and destructive ? 

In every nation, there are always some methods of levying 
money more easy than others, agreeably to the way of 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 consumption 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, 



OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 307 

must not-ecessity force them to practise all the arts of oppres- 
sion u/> * by stewards ; where the absence or negligence of 
the WP r i e tor render them secure against enquiry P 

Twill scarcely be asserted, that no bounds ought ever to 
t set to national debts ; and that the public would be no 
i eaker, were twelve or fifteen shillings in the pound, land-tax, 
mortgaged, with all the present customs and excises. There 
is something, therefore, in the case, beside the mere trans- 
ferring of property from the one hand to another. In 500 
years, the posterity of those now in the coaches, and of those 
upon the boxes, will probably have changed places, without 
affecting the public by these revolutions. 

1 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 pro- 
jectors 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 knowledge, and the narrow capacities of men, 
make it difficult to fortel 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 
possess 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 capital or in great cities, and who will sink 
into the lethargy of a stupid and pampered luxury, without 
spirit, ambition, or enjoyment. Adieu to all ideas of nobility, 
gentry, and family. The stocks can be transferred in an in- 
stant, and being in such a fluctuating state, will seldom be 
transmitted during three generations from father to son. Or 
1 [The six following paragraphs were added in Ed. 0.] 



58 ESSAY IX. 

| were they to remain ever so long in one family, tttt7, conve 
j no hereditary authority or credit to the possessor ; nc j t 
this means, the several ranks of men, which form a kin * 
independent magistracy in a state, instituted by the hand ? 
nature, are entirely lost ; and every man in authority derives 
his influence from the commission alone of the sovereign. 
No expedient remains for preventing or suppressing insur- 
rections, but mercenary armies : No expedient at all remains 
for resisting tyranny : Elections are swayed by bribery and 
corruption alone : And the middle power between king and 
people being totally removed, a grievous despotism must in- 
fallibly 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 dis- 
courages industry, 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 com- 
merce require continual alterations in the nature of the taxes; 
which exposes the legislature every moment to the danger 
both of wilful and involuntary error. And any great blow/ 
given to trade, whether by injudicious taxes or by other/ 
accidents, throws the whole system of government into con- 
fusion. 

But what expedient can the public now employ, even sup- 
posing trade to continue in the most flourishing condition, in 
order to support its foreign wars and enterprizes, 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 maintained during our late wars ; where we 
have so much exceeded, not only our own natural strength, 
but even that of the greatest empires. This extravagance is 
the abuse complained of, as the source of all the dangers, to 
I which we are at present exposed. But since we must still 
suppose great commerce and opulence to remain, even after 
every fund is mortgaged ; these riches must be defended by 
proportional power ; and whence is the public to derive the 
revenue which supports it ? It must plainly be from a con- 
tinual taxation of their annuitants, or, which is the same thing, 
from mortgaging anew, on every exigency, a certain part of 



OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 369 

their annuities ; and thus making them contribute 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 annui- 
tants themselves must necessarily bear the principal sway. 

If the prince has become absolute, as may naturally be 
expected from this situation of affairs, it is so easy for him 
to encrease his exactions upon the annuitants, which amount 
only to the retaining money in his own hands, that this 
species of property would soon lose all its credit, and the 
whole income of every individual in the state must lie en- 
tirely at the mercy of the sovereign : 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 government ; as the dimi- 
nution of their revenue must in that case be very sensible, 
would not be disguised under the appearance 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 extraordi- 
nary 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 
foreseen, of this situation, to which Great Britain is visibly 
tending. 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 I 
or sole proprietor of land, besides investing it with every' 
branch of customs and excise, which the fertile imagination 
of ministers and projectors 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 

VOL. III. B B 



'CO ESSAY IX. 

this or any future ministry will be possessed of such rigid 
and steady frugality, 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 tran- 
quillity for such an undertaking. 1 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 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 

I not be difficult to guess at the consequences. It must, indeed, 
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 
asserted, that there was a fallacy in imagining that the 
public owed this debt ; for that really every individual owed 
a proportional share of it, and paid, in his taxes, a propor- 
tional share of the interest, beside the expence of levying 
these taxes. Had we not better, then, says he, make a dis- 
tribution of the debt among ourselves, and each of us con- 
tribute a sum suitable to his property, and by that means 

1 [Editions H to P add the notn : In Eor the sake, I suppose, of a posterity, 
times of peace and security, when alone which he will never see, or of a few 
it is possible to pay debt, the monied reasonable reflecting people, whose uni- 
interest are averse to receive partial ted interest, perhaps, will not be able 
payments, which they know not how to to secure him the smallest burrough in 
dispose of to advantage ; and the landed England. "Tis not likely we shall ever 
interest are averse to continue the taxes find any minister so bad a politician, 
requisite for that purpose. Why there- With regard to these narrow destructive 
fore should a minister persevere in a maxims of politics, all ministers are ex- 
measure so disagreeable to all parties ? pert enough.] 



OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 371 

discharge at once all our funds and public mortgages 9 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 mention, that property in 
money and stock in trade might easily be concealed or dis- 
guised ; and that visible property in lands and houses would 
really at last answer for the whole : An inequality and 
oppression, which never would be submitted to. But though 
this project is not likely to take place ; it is not altogether 
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 thel 
doctor. 1 I 

But it is more probable, that the breach of national faith 
will be the necessary effect of wars, defeats, misfortunes, and 
public calamities, or even perhaps of victories and conquests. 
I must confess, when I see princes and states fighting and 
quarrelling, amidst their debts, funds, and public mortgages, 
it always brings to my mind a match of cudgel-playing fought 
in a China shop. How can it be expected, that sovereigns 
will spare a species of property, which is pernicious to them- 
selves 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, j 
and raise not the money projected. Suppose, either that the J 
cash of the nation is exhausted ; or that our faith, which has \ 
hitherto been so ample, begins to fail us. Suppose, that, in| 

1 [Editions H to P add : Some neigh- trarily tax the funds, as well as other 
bouring states practise an easy expe- property. Could -we practise either of 
dient, by -which they lighten their these methods, we need never be op- 
public debts. The French have a pressed by the national debt ; and it is 
custom (as the Eomans formerly had) not impossible but one of these, or some 
of augmenting their money; and this other method, may, at all adventures, 
the nation has been so much fami- be tried, on the augmentation of our 
liarised to, that it hurts not public incumbrances and difficulties. But people 
credit, though it be really cutting off in this country are so good reasoners 
at once, by an edict, so much of their upon whatever regards their interests, 
debts. The Dutch diminish the interest that such a practice will deceive no- 
without the consent of their creditors, body; and public credit will probably 
or, which is the same thing, they arbi- tumble at once, by so dangerous a trial.] 

b b 2 



372 ESSAY IX. 

this distress, the nation 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 cannot 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 con- 
tracted 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 secu- 
rity of the nation : Money is perhaps lying in the exchequer, 
ready for the discharge of the quarterly interest : Necessity 
calls, fear urges, reason exhorts, compassion alone exclaims : 
The money will immediately be seized for the current service, 
under the most solemn protestations, perhaps, of being im- 
mediately replaced. But no more is requisite. The whole 
fabric, already tottering, falls to the ground, and buries 
thousands 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 destruc- 
tion. 

1 So great dupes are the generality of mankind, that, not- 
withstanding 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 
nourishing a condition as before. The present king of 
France, during the late war, borrowed money at lower in- 
terest than ever his grandfather did; and as low as the 
British parliament, comparing the natural rate t>f 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 promises, protestations, fair 
appearances, with the allurements of 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 armies 
1 [This paragraph appears in Editions H to P as a footnote. ] 



OF PUBLIC CEEDIT. 37,, 

to arbitrary government ; and the glory of God to the tern- < 
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, 1 as it is eternally true, is [ 
very applicable to our present case. Sed vulgus ad magnitu- 
dinem beneficiorum aderat : Stultissimus quisque pecuniis merca- 
batur : Apud sapientes cassa habebantur, quce neque dari neque 
accipi, 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 ; 
an interest, which may easily be overbalanced by a great 
debt, and by a difficult and extraordinary emergence, even 
supposing that credit irrecoverable. Not to mention, that a 
present necessity often forces states into measures, which are, 
strictly speaking, against their interest. 

These two events, supposed above, 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 
sacrificed for ever to the temporary safety of thousands. 2 
Our popular government, perhaps, will render it difficult or 
dangerous for a minister to venture on so desperate an ex- 
pedient, 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 

1 Hist. lib. iii. 55. event a very near period, such as half a 

2 I have heard it has been computed, century, had not our fathers' prophecies 
that all the creditors of the public, na- of this kind been already found falla- 
tives and foreigners, amount only to cious, by the duration of our public 
17,000. These make a figure at pre- credit, so much beyond all reasonable 
sent on their income ; but, in case of a expectation. When the astrologers in 
public bankruptcy, would, in an instant, France were every year foretelling the 
become the lowest, as well as the most death of Henry IV. These fclloius, says 
wretched of the people. The dignity he, must be right at last. We shall, 
and authority of the landed gentry and therefore, be more cautious than to 
nobility is much better rooted ; and assign any precise date ; and shall con- 
would render the contention very un- tent ourselves with pointing out tl><? 
equal, if ever we come to that extremity. event in general. 

One would incline to assign to this 



374 ESSAY X. 

of them can be supposed to have great property in the funds ; 
ret the connections 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 perhaps too, our foreign enemies l 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 grand- 
fathers, our fathers, and we, have all deemed too unequal to 
be preserved without our attention and assistance. But our 
children, weary of the struggle, and fettered with incum- 
brances, 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 maintained, that in order to reach the gift of pro- 
phecy, 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 influence of popular madness and delusion. 



Essay X. Of some Remarkable Customs. 

I shall observe three remarkable customs in three celebrated 
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 

1 [Editions H to P : or rather enemy (for we have but one to dread.)] 



OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 375 

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 greater assurance, that, after a motion was made, 
which was voted and approved by that assembly in which the 
legislative power is lodged, the member who made the motion 
must for ever be exempted from future trial or enquiry. But 
no political maxim can, at first sight, appear more undis- 
putable, 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 may appear, have all failed 
in the Athenian government, from causes and principles too, 
which appear almost inevitable. 

By the ypa<j>r) irapavofMov, or indictment of illegality, (though 
it has not been remarked by antiquaries or commentators) 
any man was tried and punished in a common court of judica 
ture, for any law which had passed upon his motion, in the 
assembly of the people, 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 1 ; he convinced the people, the only 
legislature in Athens ; the law passed, and was carried 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 finances. 2 He was indeed 
acquitted, upon proving anew the usefulness of his law. 

Ctesiphon moved in the assembly of the people, that 
particular honours should be conferred on Demosthenes, as 
on a citizen affectionate and useful to the commonwealth : 
The people, convinced of this truth, voted those honours : Yet 
was Ctesiphon tried by the ypa(f>7j trapavofMcov. It was asserted, 
among other topics, that Demosthenes was not a good 
citizen, nor affectionate to the commonwealth : And the 
orator was called upon to defend his friend, and consequently 

1 His harangue for it is still extant ; irepi Zvfifiooias. 2 Pro Ctesiphonte. 



37fi ESSAY X. 

himself; which he executed by that sublime piece of elo- 
quence, that has ever since been the admiration of mankind. 

After the battle of Ch^eronea, a law was passed upon the 
motion of Hyperides, giving liberty to slaves, and inrolling 
them in the troops. 1 On account of this law, the orator was 
afterwards tried by the indictment above-mentioned, and 
defended himself, among other topics, by that stroke cele- 
brated by Plutarch and Longinus. It was not I, said he, 
that moved for this law : It was the necessities of war ; it was 
the battle 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 ^very law, without any limitation of property, without 
any distinction of rank, without controul from any magistracy 
or senate 2 ; and consequently without regard to order, jus- 
tice, or prudence. The Athenians soon became sensible of 
the mischiefs attending this constitution : But being averse 
to checking themselves by any rule or restriction, they re- 
solved, at least, to check their demagogues or counsellors, by 
the fear of future punishment and enquiry. They accordingly 
instituted this remarkable law ; a law esteemed so essential 
to their form of government, that iEscmNES insists on it as a 
known truth, that, were it abolished or neglected, it were 
impossible for the Democracy to subsist. 3 

The people feared not any ill consequence to liberty from the 
authority of the criminal courts ; because these were nothing 
but very numerous juries, chosen by lot from among the 
people. And they justly considered themselves as in a state 
of perpetual pupillage ; where they had an authority, after 
they came to the use of reason, not only to retract and con- 

1 Plutarchus in vita decern oratorum. was not great. 

Demosthenes gives a different account * In Ctesiphontem. It is remarkable, 

of this law. Contra Aristogiton. orat. that the first step after the dissolution 

II. 803-4. He says, that its purport was, of the Democracy by Critias and the 

to render the tLrifioi iiririfiot, orto restore Thirty, wastoannulthe7pa<^7rapa'<fyi&>', 

the privilege of bearing offices to those as we learn from Demosthenes Kara 

who had been declared incapable. Per- Ti/xok. The orator in this oration gives 

haps these were both clauses of the same us the words of the law, establishing 

law. the ypa<p)j -Kaoav6\Ku>v, pag. 297. ex edit. 

7 The senate of the Bean was only a Axdi. And he accounts for it, from the 

less numerous mob, chosen by lot from same principles we here reason upon, 
among the people ; and their authority 



OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 377 

troul 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 ; 1 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 law. 2 Thus Leptines moved for a law, 
not only to recal all the immunities formerly granted, but to 
deprive the people for the future of the power of granting 
any more. 3 Thus all bills of attainder 4 were forbid, or laws 
that affected one Athenian, without extending to the whole 
commonwealth. These absurd clauses, by which the legisla- 
ture vainly attempted to bind itself for ever, proceeded from 
an universal sense in the people of their own levity and in- 
constancy. 

II. A wheel within a wheel, such as we observe in the 
German empire, is considered by Lord Shaftesbury, 5 as an 
absurdity in politics : But what must we say to two equal 
wheels, which govern the same political machine, without 
any mutual check, controul, or subordination ; and yet pre- 
serve the greatest harmony and concord 9 To establish two 
distinct legislatures, each of which possesses full and absolute 
authority within itself, and stands in no need of the other's j 
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 governin 
principles. And should I assert, that the state I have in m 
eye was divided into two distinct factions, each of whic 
predominated in a distinct legislature, and yet produced 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 
political chimera was as absurd as any vision of priests or 

1 Plut. in vita Pelop. c. 25. * Demost. con tra Aristocratem, 649. 

2 Demost. Olynth. 1. 2. * Essay on the freedom of wit and 
* Demost. contra Lept. 457. humour, part 3. 2. 



378 ESSAY X. 

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 cen- 
turiata and comitia tributa. In the former, it is well known, 
the people voted according to their 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 entirety- 
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 authority 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 ? 

The legislature established in Rome, by the authority of 
Servius Tullius, was the comitia centuriata, which, after 
the expulsion of the kings, rendered the government, for 
some time, very aristocratical. But the people, having num- 
bers and force on their side, and being elated with frequent 
conquests and victories in their foreign wars, always prevailed 
when pushed to extremity, and first extorted from the senate 
the magistracy of the tribunes, and next the legislative 
power of the comitia tributa. It then behoved the nobles to 
be more careful than ever not to provoke the people. For 
beside the force which the latter were always 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 character, 
the nobles might often prevail, and direct the whole machine 
of government : But had they openly set their comitia cen- 
turiata in opposition to the tributa, they had soon lost the 



OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 379 

advantage of that institution, together with their consuls, 
praetors, 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 
Aristocracy : They limited the authority of the nobles, pro- 
tected 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 legislature, 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 be- 
tween these comitia; except one slight attempt of this 
kind, mentioned by Appian in the third book of his civil 
wars. Mark Anthony, resolving to deprive Decimus 
Brutus of the government of Cisalpine Gaul, railed in 
the Forum, and called one of the comitia, in order to pre- 
vent the meeting of the other, which had been ordered by 
the senate. But affairs were then fallen into such con- 
fusion, 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 comi- 
tia 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 
banished by the tributa, that is, by a plebiscitum. But his 
banishment, 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 England; 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 dangerous to liberty, as an authority, 
however inconsiderable, which he acquires from violence 
and usurpation. For, besides that the law always limits 



380 ESSAY X. 

every power which it bestows, the very receiving it as a con- 
cession 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 the whole 
violence 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 
English liberty. 

There is, however, one occasion, where the parliament 
has departed from this maxim ; and that is, in the pressing 
of seamen. The exercise of an irregular power is here tacitly 
permitted in the crown ; and though it has frequently been 
under deliberation, 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 privileges, which the law grants, 
without distinction, to all English subjects. But were this 
power, on any occasion, made an instrument of faction or 
ministerial tyranny, the opposite 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; 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 



OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 381 

practice, at present, prevents its abuses, by affording so easy 
a "remedy against them. 

I pretend not, by this reasoning, to exclude all possi- 
bility of contriving a register for seamen, which might man 
the navy, without being dangerous to liberty. I only ob- 
serve, that no satisfactory scheme of that nature has yet 
been proposed. Bather than adopt any project hitherto 
invented, we continue a practice seemingly the most absurd 
and unaccountable. Authority, in times of full internal 
peace and concord, is armed against law. A continued vio- 
lence is permitted in the crown, amidst the greatest jealousy 
and watchfulness in the people ; nay proceeding 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 civilised societies of mankind : And great vio- 
lence and disorder 1 are committed with impunity; while 
the one party pleads obedience to the supreme magistrate, 
the other the sanction of fundamental laws. 



Essay XI. Of the Populousness of Ancient Nations. 2 

There is very little ground, either from reason or observation, 
to conclude the world eternal or incorruptible. The continual 
and rapid motion of matter, the violent revolutions with 
which every part is agitated, the changes remarked in the 
heavens, 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 
passage, 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 nourishing age of the world, it may be expected, that 
the human species should possess greater vigour both of 
mind and body, more prosperous health, higher spirits, longer 

1 [Editions H to P : Among the 2 [For the history of this Essay see 

people, the most humane and the best p. 56.] 
natured.] 



382 ESSAY XI. 

life, and a stronger inclination 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. Stature and force of body, length of 
life, even courage and extent of genius, seem hitherto to have 
been naturally, in all ages, pretty much the same. The art 3 
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 greatest perfection among one people, they 
were perhaps totally unknown to all the neighbouring 
nations ; and though they universally decayed in one age, 
yet in a succeeding generation they again revived, and 
diffused themselves over the world. As far, therefore, as 
observation reaches, there is no universal difference discern- 
ible 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 uncertain, 
whether, at present, it be advancing to its point of perfection, 
or declining from it, we cannot thence presuppose any decay 
in human nature. 1 To prove, therefore, or account for that 
superior populousness of antiquity, which is commonly 
supposed, by the imaginary youth or vigour of the world, 
will scarcely be admitted by any just reasoner. These 
general physical 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 commits 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 

1 Columella says, lib. iii. cap. 8., that contrary, we are apt to suppose the 

in Egypt and Africa the bearing of northern nations more prolific. As those 

twins was frequent, and even customary; two countries were provinces of the 

gemini partus familiare8,ac pcene solennes Roman empire, it is difficult, though 

.sunt. If this was true, there is a physi- not altogether absurd, to suppose that 

cal difference both in countries ana ages. such a man as Columella might be mis- 

For travellers make no such remarks on taken with regard to them, 
these countries at present. On the 




POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 383 

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 everj where, this disease is 
perhaps equivalent, by its constant operation, to the three 
great scourges of mankind, 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 sufficient to give us satis- 
faction on that head. 

But is it certain, that antiquity was so much more popu- 
lous, as is pretended? The extravagancies of Yossius, with 
regard 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 
Caesar. 1 It may easily be observed, that the comparison, in 
this case, must be imperfect, even though we confine ourselves 
to the scene of ancient history ; Europe, and the nations 
round the Mediterranean. We know not exactly the 
numbers of any European kingdom, or even city, at present : 
How can we pretend to calculate 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 concerning causes with that 
concerning facts ; which ought never to be admitted, where 
the facts can be ascertained with any tolerable assurance. 
We shall, first, consider whether it be probable, from what 
we know of the situation of society in both periods, that 
antiquity must have been more populous ; secondly, whether 
in reality it was so. If I can make it appear, that the con- 
clusion is not so certain as is pretended, in favour of antiquity, 
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 
important consequences, and commonly determines concern- 
ing the preference of their whole police, their manners, and 
the constitution of their government. For as there is in all 
men, both male and female, a desire and power of generation, 
Lettres Persajoss. See also L Esjjrit de Loix, liv. xxiii. cap. 17, 18, 19. 



384 ESSAY XT. 

more active than is ever universally exerted, the restraints, 
which they lie under, must proceed from some difficulties in 
their situation, which it belongs to a wise legislature carefully 
to observe and remove. Almost every man who thinks he 
can maintain a family will have one ; and the human species, 
at this rate of propagation, would more than double every 
generation. 1 How fast do mankind multiply in every colony 
or new settlement ; where it is an easy matter to provide for 
a family ; and where men are nowise straitened or confined, 
as in long established governments ? History tells us fre- 
quently 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 culti- 
vated, 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 perished. 2 And for a like reason, every wise, just, 
and mild government, by rendering the condition of its sub- 
jects easy and secure, will always abound most in people, as 
well as in commodities and riches. 8 A country, indeed, 
whose climate and soil are fitted for vines, will naturally be 
more populous than one which produces corn only, and that 
more populous than one which is only fitted for pasturage. 
In general, warm climates, as the necessities of the in- 
habitants are there fewer, and vegetation more powerful, 
are likely to be most populous : But if everything 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 
ancient and modern times, being allowed of great import- 
ance, 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 

1 [Editions H to W add : Were every hills. It is remarked by Don Geronimo 
one coupled as soon as he comes to the de Ustajhz, that the provinces of Spain, 
age of puberty.] which send most people to the Indies, 

2 This too is a good reason why the nre most populous; which proceeds 
small-pox does not depopulate countries from their superior riches. 

so much as may at first sight he im- s [A country . . . to . . . pasturage, 

agined. Where there is room for more was added in Fxlition H. and In general 

people, they will always arise, even . . . to . . . populous, in Edition Q.] 
without the assistance of naturalization 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 385 

by their moral causes ; which is the first view in which we 
proposed to consider them. 

The chief difference between the domestic ceconomy of the 
ancients and that of the moderns consists in the practice of 
slavery, 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 zealous 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 institution ; and whilst they brand all sub- 
mission 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, in 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 
dominions extend not beyond a single city, is more grievous 
than obedience 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 greater liberty we enjoy ; the less are 
our actions inspected and controled ; 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 colo- 
nies, and among some European nations, would never surely 
create a desire of rendering it more universal. The little 
humanity, commonly observed in persons, accustomed, 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 flat- 
tery, submission, and low debasement of his slaves. 

According to ancient practice, all checks were on the 
inferior, to restrain him to the duty of submission ; none on 
the superior, to engage him to the reciprocal duties of gentle- 

vol. in. c c 



386 ESSAY XL 

ness 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 
island of the Tyber, 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 emperor Claudius ; in which it was likewise 
forbidden to kill any slave merely for old age or sickness. 1 
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 professed maxim of the 
elder Cato, to sell his superannuated slaves for any price, 
rather than maintain what he esteemed a useless burden. 2 

The ergastula, or dungeons, where slaves in chains were 
forced to work, were very common all over Italy. Colu- 
mella 3 advises, that they be always built under ground ; 
and recommends 4 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 these ergastula, and of the great number of slaves usually 
confined in them. 5 

A chained slave for a porter, was usual in Rome, as appears 
from Ovid, 6 and other authors. 7 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 entrance, 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, 8 that, 
where it was possible to produce, for the same fact, either 
freemen or slaves, as witnesses, the judges always preferred 
the torturing of slaves, as a more certain evidence. 9 

1 Suetonius in vita Cxaudii, 25. Amor. lib. i. eleg. 6. 

2 Pi.ut. in vita Catonis, 4. ' Sueton, de Claris rhetor. 3. So also 
' Lib. i. cap. 6. the ancient poet, Janitorls tintinnire im- 
4 Id. lib. xi. cap. 1. pedimenta audio. [Nigid. ap Non. I'M.' 
* [Editions H and I added the mis- 8 In Onetor. orat. 1. 874. 

quotation: Partem Italiae ergastula a " The same practice was very com mo. 

aolitudine vindicant.] in Rome; but Cicero seems not to think 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 



387 



. 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, upon 
enquiry, find that he is then taking an account of the con- 
duct of his servants, and giving them due correction and 
discipline. This is not remarked as an instance of cruelty, 
but only of disorder, which even in actions the most usual 
and methodical, changes the fixed hours thafc an established 
custom had assigned for them. 1 

But our 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 advantage, and was the chief cause of that extreme popu- 
lousness, which is supposed in those times. At present, all 
masters discourage the marrying of their male servants, and 
admit not by any means the marriage of the female, who 
are then supposed altogether incapacitated for their service. 
But where the property 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 encourages, 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 

that the people had but one neck. A 
man could almost be pleased, by a single 
blow, to put an end to such a race of 
monsters. You may thank God, says 
the author above cited, (epist. 7) ad- 
dressing himself to the Roman people, 
that you have a master, (viz. the mild 
and merciful Nero) who is incapable of 
learning cruelty from your example. 
This was spoke in the beginning of his 
reign: But he fitted them very well 
afterwards ; and no doubt was consider- 
ably improved by the sight of the bar- 
barous objects, to which he had, from 
his infancy, been accustomed. 



this evidence so certain as the testimony 
of free-citizens. Pro Coelio, 28. 

1 Epist. 122. The inhuman sports 
exhibited at Rome, may justly be con- 
sidered too as an effect of the people's 
contempt for slaves, and was also a great 
cause of the general inhumanity of their 
princes and rulers. Who can read the 
accounts of the amphitheatrical enter- 
tainments without horror ? Or who is 
surprized, that the emperors should 
treat that people in the same way the 
people treated their inferiors? One's 
humanity, on that occasion, is apt to 
renew the barbarous wish of Caliguxa, 



c c 2 



388 ESSAY XL 

of those who are subjected to them. Each man, being a 
sovereign 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 edu- 
cation of his subjects. 1 

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 shock- 
ing between the management of human creatures and that 
of cattle; but 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 provinces, 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 consequently 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 oatmeal or potatoes. Those 
who had slaves, therefore, in all the richer and more popu- 
lous countries, would discourage the pregnancy 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 con- 
tinued 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 

1 We may here observe, that if do- humour or interest, may make his slaves 

toestic slavery really encreased popu- very unhappy, yet be careful, from in- 

lousness, it would be an exception to terest, to increase their number. Their 

the general rule, that the happiness of marriage is not a matter of choice with 

any society and its populousness are them, more than any other action of 

necessary attendants. A master, from their life. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 



389 



calculations of sordid interest. If London, at present, with- 
out much encreasing, needs a yearly recruit from tne country, 
of 5000 people, as is usually computed, what must it require, 
if the greater part of the tradesmen 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 
Steia, Cilicia, 1 Cappadocia, and the Lesser Asia, Thrace, 
and .ZEgypt : Yet the number of people did not encrease in 
Italy; and writers complain of the continual decay of 
industry and agriculture. 2 Where then is that extreme 
fertility of the Roman slaves, 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 citizens, the numbers even of these did not 
encrease, 3 till the freedom 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 

penter, smith, tailor, &c. have no corre- 
spondent terms, which express those 
who are no seamen, or carpenters, Sfc. 
Languages differ very much with regard 
to the particular words where this dis- 
tinction obtains; and may thence afford 
very strong inferences, concerning the 
manners and customs of different na- 
tions. The military government of the 
Eoman emperors had exalted the soldiery 
so high, that they balanced all the other 
orders of the state : Hence miles and 
paganus became relative terms ; a thing, 
till then, unknown to ancient, and still 
so to modern languages. Modern super- 
stition exalted the clergy so high, that 
they overbalanced the whole state: 
Hence clergy and laity are terms opposed 
in all modern languages ; and in these 
alone. And from the same principles 
I infer, that if the number of slaves 
bought by the Eomans from foreign 
countries, had not extremely exceeded 
those which were bred at home, verna 
would have had a correlative, which 
would have expressed the former species 
of slaves. But these, it would seem, 
composed the main body of the ancient 
slaves, and the latter were but a few 
exceptions. 



1 Ten thousand slaves in a day have 
often been sold for the use of the Eomans, 
at Deltjs in Cilicia. Strabo, lib. xiv., 
668. 

2 Columella, lib. i. procem. et cap. 2, 
et. 7- Varro, lib. iii. cap. 1. Hobat, 
lib. ii. od. 15. Tacit, annal. lib. iii. 
cap. 54. Stjeton. in vita Aug. cap. xlii. 
Plin. lib. xviii, cap. 13. 

8 Minore indies plebe ingenua, says 
Tacitus, ann. lib. iv. cap. 27. 

4 As servus was the name of the genus, 
and verna of the species, without any 
correlative, this forms a strong pre- 
sumption, that the latter were by far 
the least numerous. It is an universal 
observation which we may form upon 
language, that where two related parts 
of a whole bear any proportion to each 
other, in numbers, rank or consideration, 
there are always correlative terms in- 
vented, which answer to both the parts, 
and express their mutual relation. If 
they bear no proportion to each other, 
the term is only invented for the less, 
and marks its distinction from the whole. 
Thus man and woman, master and ser- 
vant, father and son, prince and subject, 
stranger and citizen, are correlative 
terms. But the words, seaman, car- 



390 ESSAY XI. 

to privileges and indulgences beyond others ; a sufficient 
reason why the masters would not be fond of rearing many 
of that kind. 1 Whoever is acquainted with the maxims of 
our planters, will acknowledge the justness of this observa- 
tion. 2 

Atticus is much praised by his historian for the care, 
which he took in recruiting his family from the slaves born 
in it 3 : May we not thence infer, that this practice was not 
then very common ? 

The names of slaves in the Greek comedies, Syrus, 
Mysus, Geta, Thrax, Davus, Lydus, Phryx, &c. afford a 
presumption, that, at Athens at least, most of the slaves 
were imported from foreign countries. The Athenians, says 
Strabo, 4 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 Phrygian, Tibias to a Paphlagonian. 

Demosthenes, having mentioned a law which forbad any 
man to strike the slave of another, praises the humanity of 
this law ; and adds, that, if the barbarians from whom the 
slaves were bought, had information, that their countrymen 
met with such gentle treatment, they would entertain a great 
esteem for the Athenians. 5 Isoorates 6 too insinuates, that 
the slaves of the Greeks were generally or very commonly 
barbarians. 7 Aristotle in his Politics 8 plainly supposes, that a 

1 Verna is used by Roman writers as be procured. A man is obliged tocloath 
a word equivalent to scurra f on account and feed his slave ; and he does no more 
of the petulance and impudence of those for his servant : The price of the first 
slaves. Mart, lib. i. ep. 42. Horace purchase is, therefore, so much loss to 
also mentions the verna procaces ; and him : not to mention, that the fear of 
Petronitjs, cap. 24. vernula urbanitas. punishment will never draw so much 
Seneca, de provid. cap. 1. vemularum labour from a slave, as the dread of 
licentia. being turned off and not getting another 

2 It is computed in the West Indies, service, will from a freeman. 

that a stock of slaves grow worse five * Cokn. Nepos in vita Attici. We 

per cent, every year, unless new slaves may remark, that Attictjs's estate lay 

be bought to recruit them. They are chiefly in Epirtjs, which, being a remote, 

not able to keep up their number, even desolate place, would render it profitable 

in those warm countries, where cloaths for him to rear slaves there. 

and provisions are so easily got. How 4 Lib. vii., 304. 

much more must this happen in Euro- * In Midiam, p. 221, ex edit. Audi. 

pean countries, and in or near great Panegyr. [See p. 69.] 

cities? 1 I shall add, that, from the 7 [The remainder of this paragraph 

experience of our planters, slavery is as was added in Edition M.] 

little advantageous to the master as to 8 Lib. vii. cap. 10, sub fin. 

the slave, wherever hired servants can 



[The remainder of this note was added in Ed. R.] 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 391 

slave is always a foreigner. The ancient comic writers repre- 
sented the slaves as speaking a barbarous language. 1 This 
was an imitation of nature. 

It is well known that Demosthenes, in his nonage, had 
oeen defrauded of a large fortune by his tutors, and that 
afterwards he recovered, by a prosecution at law, the value 
of his patrimony. His orations, on that occasion, still remain, 
and contain an exact detail of the whole substance left by his 
father, 2 in money, merchandise, houses, and slaves, together 
with the value of each particular. Among the rest were 52 
slaves, handicraftsmen, namely, 32 sword-cutlers, and 20 
cabinet-makers 3 ; 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, 4 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 esteeming love the chief source of all disorders, he 
' allowed the male slaves to have a commerce with the female 
6 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 oeconomist, and lived in times when the 
ancient frugality and simplicity of manners were still in 
credit and reputation. 

It is expressly remarked by the writers of the Roman law, 
that scarcely any ever purchase slaves with a view of breeding 
from them. 5 

1 Aristoph. Equites. 1. 17. The s k\ivottoio\, makers of those beds 
ancient scholiast remarks on this pas- which the ancients lay upon at meals. 
6age fiapfiaplfci ws $ov\os. * In vita Catonis, 21. 

2 In Aphobum orat. 1. 816. * 'Non temere ancillae ejus rei causa 



392 ESSAY XL 

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 per- 
formed, ! 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 propaga- 
tion, (and the same reason, at least in part, holds with regard 
to ancient slaves as modern servants) how destructive must 
slavery have proved ? 

History mentions a Roman nobleman, who had 400 slaves 
under the same roof with him : And having been assassinated 
at home by the furious revenge of one of them, the law was 
executed with rigour, and all without exception were put to 
death. 2 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 married, and the females to be breeders. 3 

So early as the poet Hesiod, 4 married slaves, whether 
male or female, were esteemed inconvenient. How much 
more, where families had encreased to such an enormous size 
as in Rome, and where the ancient simplicity of manners 
was banished from all ranks of people ? 

Xenophon in his Oeconomics, where he gives directions 

comparantur ut pariant.' Digest, lib. 5. part or office of women to bear chil- 
tit. 3. de hcered. petit, lex 27. The follow- dren. Si mulier praegnans venerit, 
ing texts are to the same purpose. ' Spa- inter omnes convenit sanam earn esse. 
donem morbosum non esse, neque vitio- Maximum enim ac praecipuum munus 
sum, verius mihi videtur; sed sanum foeminarum accipere ac tueri conceptum. 
esse, sicuti ilium qui unum testiculum Puerperam quoque sanam esse ; si modo 
habet, qui etiam generare potest.' Di- nihil extrinsecus accedit, quod corpus 
gest. lib. 2. tit. 1. de adUitio edicto, lex, ejus in aliquam valetudinem immitteret. 
6. 2. ' Sin autem quis ita spado sit, De sterili Ccelius distinguere Trebatium 
ut tam necessaria pars corporis penitus dicit, ut si natura storilis sit, sana sit ; 
absit, morbosus est.' Id. lex 7. His si vitio corporis, contra.' Id. 
impotence, it seems, was only regarded ' [And even manufactures executed ; 
so far as his health or life might be added in Edition Q,.] 
affected by it. In other respects, he a Tacit, ann. lib. xiv. cap. 43. 
was full as valuable. The same 3 The slaves in the great houses had 
reasoning is employed with regard to little rooms assigned to them, called 
female slaves. ' Quseritur de ea muliere cella. Whence the name of cell was 
quae semper mortuos parit, an morbosa transferred to the monk's room in a con- 
sit? et ait Sabinus, si vulvae vitio hoc vent. See farther on this head, Just. 
contingit, morbosam esse.' Id lex 14. Lipsius, Saturn, i. cap. 14. These form 
It has even been doubted, whether a strong presumptions against the mar- 
woman pregnant was morbid or vitiated; riage and propagation of the family 
and it is determined, that she is sound, slaves. 

not on account of the value of her off- * Opera et Dies, 405, also 602. 
epring, but because it is the natural 



POPULOUSN.ESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 393 

for the management of a farm, recommends a strict care and 
attention of laying the male and the female slaves at a dis- 
tance from each other. He seems not to suppose that they 
are ever married. The only slaves among the Greeks that 
appear to have continued their own race, were the Helotes, 
who had houses apart, and were more the slaves of the 
public than of individuals. 1 

2 The same author 3 tells us that Nicias's overseer, by 
agreement with his 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 circumstance of the contract had been 
superfluous. 

The ancients talk so frequently of a fixed, stated portion 
of provisions assigned to each slave, 4 that we are naturally 
led to conclude, that slaves lived almost all single, and 
received that portion as 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, 5 enumerating the 
slaves requisite to labour a vineyard of a hundred acres, 
makes them amount to 15 ; the overseer and his ivife,villicus 
and villica, and 13 male slaves ; for an olive plantation of 
240 acres, the overseer and his wife, and 11 male slaves ; and 
so in proportion to a greater or less plantation or vineyard. 

Varro, 6 quoting this passage of Cato, allows his compu- 
tation to be just in every respect, except the last. For as it is 
requisite, says he, to have an overseer and his wife, whether 
the vineyard or plantation be great or small, this must alter 
the exactness of the proportion. Had Cato's computation 
been erroneous in any other respect, it had certainly been 
corrected by Varro, who seems fond of discovering so trivial 
an error. 

The same author, 7 as well as Columella, 8 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 



1 Strabo, lib. viii. 365. epist. 80. 

2 [This paragraph was added in Edi- 5 De re rust. cap. 10, 11. 
tion K] 6 Lib. i. cap. 18. 

3 De rati one redituum, 4,14. 7 Lib. i. cap. 17. 

4 See Cato de re rustica, cap. 56. 8 Lib. i. cap 18. 
Donatus in Phormion, 1. 1,9. Senecaje 



394 ESSAY XI. 

was therefore a peculiar indulgence granted to a slave, in 
whom so great confidence was reposed. 

In the same place, Varro mentions it as an useful pre- 
caution, not to buy too many slaves from the same nation, 
lest they beget factions and seditions in the family : A pre- 
sumption, that in Italy, the greater part, even of the country 
labouring slaves, (for he speaks of no other) were bought 
from the remoter provinces. All the world knows, that the 
family slaves in Rome, who were instruments of show and 
luxury, were commonly imported from the east. Hoc profe- 
cere, says Pliny, speaking of the jealous care of masters, 
mancipiorum legiones, et in domo turba externa, ac servorum 
quoque causa nomenclator adhibendus. 1 

It is indeed recommended by Varro, 2 to propagate young 
shepherds in the family from the old ones. For as grasing 
farms were commonly in remote and cheap places, and each 
shepherd lived in a cottage apart, his marriage and encrease 
were not liable to the same inconveniencies as in dearer 
places, and where many servants lived in the family ; which 
was universally the case in such of the Roman farms as 
produced wine or corn. If we consider this exception with 
regard to shepherds, and weigh the reasons of it, it will 
serve for a strong confirmation of all our foregoing suspicions. 8 

Columella, 4 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 antiquity, 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. 
Appian 5 ascribes this encrease to the propagation of the 

1 Lib. xxxiii. cap. 1. So likewise 8 Pastoris duri est hie nlius, ill* 

Tacitus, annal. lib. xiv. cap. 44. [This bubulci. Juven, sat. 11, 151. 
reference to Tacitus was added in Edi- * Lib. i. cap. 8. 

tion K.j * De bel. civ. lib. i. 7. 

7 Lib. ii. cap. 10. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 395 

slav.es : Plutarch 1 to the purchasing of barbarians, who 
were chained and imprisoned, fiapfiapi/ca BsafjicoTrjpLa. 2 It is 
to be presumed that both causes concurred. 

Sicily, says Florus, 3 was full of ergastula, and was cul- 
tivated by labourers in chains. Eunus and Athenio 
excited the servile war, by breaking up these monstrous 
prisons, and giving liberty to 60,000 slaves. The younger 
Pompet augmented his army in Spain by the same expe- 
dient. 4 If the country labourers, throughout the Koman 
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 propa- 
gation, as well as to humanity, must the institution of 
domestic slavery be esteemed ? 

Constantinople, at present, requires the same recruits 
of slaves 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 colo- 
nies of black 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 5 of superstition, 
burthensome to the public, and oppressive to the poor pri- 
soners, male as well as female; yet may it be questioned 
whether they be so destructive to the populousness of a state, 
as is commonly imagined. Were the land, which belongs 
to a convent, bestowed on a nobleman, he would spend its 

1 In vita Tib. & C. G-racchi. Agrorum, et quondam duro sulcata 

2 To the same purpose is that passage Camilli 

of the elder Seneca, ex controversia 5, Vomere, et antiquas Curiorum passa 

lib. v. ' Arata quondam populis rura, ligones 

singulorum ergastulorum sunt ; latius- Longa sub ignotis extendere rura 

que nunc villici, quam olim reges, im- colonis.' Lbi. 1. 167. 

perant. At nunc eadem,' says Punt, 

1 vincti pedes, damnatae manus, inscripti ' Vincto fossore coluntur 

vultus exercent.' Lib. xviii. cap. 3. So Hesperiae segetes. ' Lib. vii. 402. 

also Martial. 

'Et sonet innumera compede Thuscus 3 Lib. iii. cap. 19. 

ager.' Lib. ix. ep. 23. * Id. lib. iv. cap. 8. 

And Lucan. * Turn longos jungere s [Of the most abject superstition : 

fines Editions H to P.] 



39G ESSAY XI. 

revenue on dogs, horses, grooms, footmen, cooks, and house- 
maids ; and his family would not furnish many more citizens 
than the convent. 

The common reason, why any parent thrusts his daughters 
into nunneries, is, that he may not be overburthened with 
too numerous a family; but the ancients had a method 
almost as innocent, 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 horror it deserves, or scarcely 1 even 
with disapprobation. Plutarch, the humane, good-natured 
Plutarch, 2 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 
Jiis brother, Eumenes ; signalizing in this manner his grati- 
tude 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 children. 8 

Shall we then allow these two circumstances to compen- 
sate each other, to wit, monastic vows, and the exposing of 
children, and to be unfavourable, in equal degrees, to the 
propagation of mankind ? I doubt the advantage is here on 
the side of antiquity. 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 execution their 
former intentions. 

China, the only country where this practice of exposing 
children prevails at present, is the most populous country 
we know off; and every man is married before he is twenty. 
Such early marriages could scarcely be general, had not 
men the prospect of so easy a method of getting rid of their 
children. I own that 4 Plutarch speaks of it as a very 
general maxim of the poor to expose their children ; and 

1 Tacitus blames it. De morib. firm children. De ira, lib. i. cap. 15. 
Germ. 19. * Sbxt. Emp. lib. iii. cap. 24. 

2 De fraterno amore. Seneca also * De amore prolis. 
approves of the capping of sickly in- 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 307 

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 them. 1 

Of all sciences there is none, where first appearances are 
more deceitful than in politics. Hospitals for foundlings 
seem favourable 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 parents are altogether incapacitated 
to rear and educate him. The 2 great difference, for health, 
industry, and morals, between an education in an hospital 
and that in a private family, 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 must there- 
fore be somewhat unusual ; but to turn over the care of him 
upon others, is very tempting to the natural indolence of 
mankind. 

Having considered the domestic life and manners of the 
ancients, compared to those of the moderns ; where, in the 
main, we seem rather superior, so far as the present ques- 
tion is concerned ; we shall now examine the political cus- 
toms and institutions of both ages, and weigh their influence 
in retarding or forwarding the propagation of mankind. 

Before the encrease of the Eoman power, or rather till its 
full establishment, almost all the nations, which are the 
scene of ancient history, were divided into small territories 
or petty commonwealths, where of course a great equality of 



1 The practice of leaving great sums discouragement to marriage. Such a 

of money to friends, tho' one had near practice prevents not quarrels from 

relations, was common in Greece as well humour, but rather increases them ; and 

.'is Kome; as we may gather from occasions also those from interest, which 

Ltjcian. This practice prevails much are much more dangerous and destruc- 

less in modern times ; and Ben. John- tive. See farther on this head, Essays 

son's Volpone is therefore almost en- moral, political, and literary, Parti, 

tirely extracted from antient authors, essay XIX. Perhaps too the unnatural 

and suits better the manners of those lusts of the antients ought to be taken 

times. into consideration, as of some moment. 

It may justly be thought, that the - [Infinite: Editions H to P.] 

liberty of divorces in Rome was another 



398 ESSAY XL 

fortune prevailed, and the center 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, Afric, and a 
great part of the Lesser Asia : And it must be owned, that 
no institution 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 posses- 
sion being precarious, they have not the same encouragement 
to marry, as if each had a small fortune, secure and indepen- 
dent. Enormous cities are, besides, destructive to society, 
beget vice and disorder of all kinds, starve the remoter 
provinces, and even starve themselves, 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 agriculture; 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 1 returned after the famous expedition 
with Cyrus, he hired himself and 6000 of the Greeks into 
the service of Seuthes, a prince of Thrace ; 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 iEscHiNES, with eight more, were sent 
ambassadors 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. 2 But a 
drachma a day, nay sometimes two, 3 was the pay of a common 
foot-soldier. 

1 Be exp. Cyk. lib. vii. 6. calls it a considerable sum. 

2 Demost. de falsa leg. 390. He * Thucyd. lib. iii. 17. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 390 

A centurion among the Romans had only double pay to a 
private man, in Poltbius's time, 1 and we accordingly find 
the gratuities after a triumph regulated by that proportion. 2 
But Mark Anthony and the triumvirate gave the centu- 
rions five times the reward of the other. 3 So much had the 
encrease of the commonwealth encreased the inequality 
among the citizens. 4 

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 favourable, 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 greater 
monarchs, in the splendor of their court and number of their 
forces. Swisserland alone and Holland resemble the 
ancient republics ; and though the former is far from pos- 
sessing any advantage either of soil, climate, or commerce, 
yet the numbers of people, with which it abounds, notwith- 
standing their enlisting themselves into every service in 
Europe, prove sufficiently the advantages of their political 
institutions. 

The ancient republics derived their chief or only security 
from the numbers of their citizens. The Trachinians having 
lost great numbers of their people, the remainder, instead of 
enriching themselves by the inheritance of their fellow- 
citizens, applied to Sparta, their metropolis, for a new stock 
of inhabitants. The Spartans immediately collected ten 
thousand men; among whom the old citizens divided the 
lands of which the former proprietors had perished. 5 

After Timoleon had banished Dionysius from Syra- 
cuse, and had settled the affairs of Sicily, finding 
the cities of Syracuse and Sellinuntium extremely 
depopulated by tyranny, war, and faction, he invited over 
from Greece some new inhabitants to repeople them. 6 
Immediately forty thousand men (Plutarch 7 says sixty 
thousand) offered themselves; and he distributed so many 

1 Lib. vi. cap. 37. cartel, mentioned afterwards, no distinc- 

2 Tit. Liv. lib. xli. cap. 7, 13 8f alibi tion in the ransom was made on account 
passim. of ranks in the army. 

3 Appian. De bell. civ. lib. iv., 20. * Diod. Sic. lib. xii. 59. Thtjcyd. lib. 

4 CLesar gave the centurions ten times iii. 92. 

the gratuity of the common soldiers, Be e Diod. Sic. lib. xvi. 82. 

bello Gallico, lib. viii. 4. In the Rhodian 7 In vita Twor, 23. 



400 ESSAY XL 

lots of land among them, to the great satisfaction of the 
ancient inhabitants : A proof at once of the maxims of 
ancient policy, which affected popnlousness more than 
riches; and of the good effects of these maxims, in the 
extreme popnlonsness of that small country, Greece, which 
conld at once supply so great a colony. The case was not 
much different with the Komans in early times. He is a 
pernicious citizen, said M. Curius, who cannot be content 
with seven acres. 1 Such ideas of equality could not fail of 
producing great numbers of people. 

We must now consider what disadvantages the ancients 
lay under with regard to populousness, and what checks 
they received from their political maxims and institutions. 
There are commonly compensations in every human condi- 
tion: 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 subject, 
and thereby correcting all hasty and violent determinations ? 

First, We may observe, that the ancient republics were 
almost in perpetual war, a natural effect of their martial 
spirit, their love of liberty, their mutual emulation, and that 
hatred which generally prevails among nations that live in 
close neighbourhood. 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, 

1 Plin. lib. 18. cap. 3. The same so destructive to the public as we may 

author, in cap. 6, says, Verumque faten- imagine. These never ceased till they 

tibtcs latifundia perdidere Itaxiam ; had extinguished all the illustrious 

jam vero et provincial. Sex domi semis- families, which had enjoyed the plunder 

sera Africje possidebant, cum interfccit of the world, during the latter ages of 

eos Neko princeps. In this view, the the republic. The new nobles who rose 

barbarous butchery committed by the in their place, were less splendid, as we 

first RoxAir emperors, was not, perhaps, learn from Tacit, ann. lib. 3. cap. 66. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 401 

that we find any 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. 1 

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 between 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, espe- 
cially on the vanquished. The long thin lines, required 
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 
off the greater part of his army, sound and entire. 2 

The battles of antiquity, both by their duration, and their 
resemblance 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 Tacitus, 3 the battles were the most bloody, 
because the prisoners were not slaves. 

1 The ancient soldiers, being free favour of the ancients, 

citizens, above the lowest rank, were all 2 [Editions H to P add: Could 

married. Our modern soldiers are either Folard's project of the column take 

forced to live unmarried, or their mar- place (which seems impracticable *) it 

riages turn to small account towards the would render modern battles as destruc- 

encrease of mankind. A circumstance tive as the antient.] 

which ought, perhaps, to be taken into 3 Hist. lib. ii. cap. 44. 
consideration, as of some consequence in 

1 What is the advantage of the column them, does it not present a flank to the 

after it has broke the enemy's line? enemy, and that exposed to their mus- 

only, that it then takes them in flank, quetry, and, what is much worse, to their 

and dissipates whatever stands near it by cannon ? 
afire from all sides. But till it has broke 

VOL. III. D D 



402 ESSAY XI. 

What a stout resistance must be made, where the van- 
quished 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 be- 
sieged, whose inhabitants, rather than open their gates, 
murdered their wives and children, and rushed themselves 
on a voluntary death, sweetened perhaps by a little prospect 
of revenge upon the enemy. Greeks, 1 as well as Barba- 
rians, 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 destructive to human 
society, in those petty commonwealths, which lived in close 
neighbourhood, and were engaged in perpetual wars and 
contentions. 

Sometimes the wars in Greece, says Plutarch, 2 were 
carried 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 3 : 
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 Ehodians ; when it 
was agreed, that a free citizen should be restored for 1000 
drachmas, a slave bearing arms for 500. 4 

But, secondly, it appears that ancient manners were more 
unfavourable 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 inveterate rage between the factions, and such bloody 
maxims, are found, in modern times amongst religious 

1 As Abtdtjs, mentioned by Livt, lib. * In vita Arati, 6. 
xxxi. cap. 17, 18, and Polyb. lib. xvi. * Inst. lib. ii. cap. 6. 1 
34. As also the Xanthians, Afpian. de * Diod. Sicxtl. lib. xx. 84. 
bell, civil, lib. iv. 80. 

' [Editions H to P add : 'Tis true the troduced by barbarism are not always 
same law seems to have continued till corrected by civility.] 
the time of Justinian. But abuses in- 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 403 

parties alone. 1 In ancient history, we may always observe, 
where one party prevailed, whether the nobles or people (for 
I can observe no difference in this respect 2 ) that they imme- 
diately 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, 
diffidence, 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 effu- 
sion of blood in massacres and assassinations, namely, the 
restoration of the Athenian Democracy by Theastbulus, 
and the subduing of the Roman republic by CLesae. We 
learn from ancient history, that Theastbulus passed a 
general amnesty for all past offences ; and first introduced 
that word, as well as practice, into Geeece. 3 It appears, 
however, from many orations of Lysias, 4 that the chief, 
and even some of the subaltern offenders, in the preceding 
tyranny, were tried and capitally punished. 5 And as to 
CLesae's clemency, though much celebrated, it would not gain 
great applause in the present age. He butchered, for instance, 
all Cato's senate, when he became master of Utica 6 ; and 
these, we may readily believe, were not the most worthless of 
the party. All those who had borne arms against that usurper, 
were attainted ; and, by Hietius'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 

1 [Editions H to P add: Where bi- 3 Cicero, Philip. 1,1. 

gotted priests are the accusers, judges, 4 As or at. 12. contra Ebatost. orat. 

and executioners.] 13. contra. Agorat. orat. 16, pro Man- 

2 Lysias, who was himself of the tith. 

popular faction, and very narrowly es- 5 [Editions H to Q add : This is a 

caped from the thirty tyrants, says, difficulty not cleared up, and even net 

that the Democracy was as violent a observedbyantiquariansandhistorians.] 

government as the Oligarchy. Orat. 25, 6 Appian, de bell. civ. lib. ii. 100. 
de statu popul. 

V D 2 



404 ESSAY XI. 

seizing all the sycophants and informers, who had been so 
troublesome during the Democracy, and putting them to 
death by an arbitrary sentence and execution. Every man, 
says Sallust l and Ltsias, 2 was rejoiced at these punishments; 
not considering, that liberty was from that moment annihi- 
lated. 

The utmost energy of the nervous style of Thucydides, and 
the copiousness and expression of the Greek language, seem 
to sink under that historian, when he attempts to describe 
the disorders, 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 com- 
municate. 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 premeditation, by the sword and 
poinard, and thereby got the start of their antagonists, who 
were forming fine schemes and projects for their destruc- 
tion.' 3 

Not to mention Dionysius 4 the elder, who is computed to 
have butchered in cool blood above 10,000 of his fellow- 
citizens ; or Agathocles, 5 Nabis, 6 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. 7 In Argos, near the 

1 See Cjesar's speech de bell. Catil. c. and depopulation of that country. The 

51. Greek factions I imagine to have been 

* Orat. 25, 173. And in orat. 30, 1 84, inflamed still to a higher degree of rage; 
he mentions the factious spiritof the popu- the revolutions being commonly more 
lar assemblies as the only cause why these frequent, and the maxims of assassina- 
illegal punishments should displease. tion much more avowed and acknow- 

Lib. iii. [The country in Europe ledged. Editions H to P.] 

in which I have observed the factions 4 Purr, devirt. # fort. Alex. 

to be most violent, and party-hatred the s Diod. Sic. lib. xviii, xix. 

strongest, is Ireland. This goes so far 6 Tit. Liv. xxxi. xxxiii. xxxiv. 

as to cut off even the mot common in- 7 Diod. Sic. lib. xiv. 5. Isocrates 

tercourse of civilities between the Pro- says there were only 5000 banished. He 

testants and Catholics. Their cruel in- makes the number of those killed amount 

surrections and the severe revenges which to 1500. Areop. 153. JEschines contra. 

they have taken of each other, are the Ctesiph. 455 assigns precisely the same 

causes of this mutual ill will, which is number. Seneca (de tranq. anim. cap. 

the chief source of the disorder, poverty, 5.) says 1300. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 



405 



same time, the people killed 1200 of the nobles; and after- 
Wards their own demagogues, because they had refused to 
carry their prosecutions farther. 1 The people also in Corcyra 
killed 1500 of the nobles, and banished a thousand. 2 These 
numbers will appear the more surprising, if we consider the 
extreme smallness of these states. But all ancient history is 
full of such instances. 3 

When Alexander ordered all the exiles to be restored 
throughout all the cities; it was found, that the whole 
amounted to 20,000 men 4 ; 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 degree of fury and despair. 

It would be easier, says Isoorates to Philip, to raise an 
army in Greece at present from the vagabonds than from 
the cities. 



1 Diod. Sic. lib. xv. c. 58. 

2 Diod. Sic. lib. xiii. c. 48. 

3 We shall mention from Diodortts 
Sicoxtjs alone a few massacres, which 
passed in the course of sixty years, dur- 
ing the most shining age of Greece. 
There were banished from Sybaris 500 
of the nobles and their partizans ; lib. 
xii. p. 77, ex edit. Khodomanni. Of 
Chians, 600 citizens banished ; lib. xiii. 
p. 189. AtEPHESus, 340 killed, 1000 
banished; lib. xiii. p. 223. Of Cy- 
renians, 500 nobles killed, all the rest 
banished ; lib. xir. p. 263. The Corin- 
thians killed 120, banished 500 ; lib. 
xiv. p. 304. Phebidas the Spartan 
banished 300 B^otians ; lib. xv. p. 342. 
Upon the fall of the Lacedaemonians, 
Democracies were restored in many 
cities, and severe vengeance taken of 
the nobles, after the Greek manner. 
But matters did not end there. For the 
banished nobles, returning in many 
places, butchered their adversaries at 
Phlal^:, in Corinth, in Megara, in 
Phliasia. In tbis last place they killed 
300 of the people ; but these again re- 
volting, killed above 600 of the nobles, 
and banished the rest ; lib. xv. p. 357. 
In Arcadia 1400 banished, besides 



many killed. The banished retired to 
Sparta and to Pallantixtm : The latter 
were delivered up to their countrymen, 
and all killed ; lib. xv. p. 373. Of the 
banished from Argos and Thebes, there 
were 509 in the Spartan army ; id. p. 
374. Here is a detail of the most re- 
markable of Agathocles's cruelties from 
the same author. The people before 
his usurpation had banished 600 nobles; 
lib. xix. p. 655. Afterwards that tyrant, 
in concurrence with the people, killed 
4000 nobles, and banished 6000; id. 
p. 647. He killed 4000 people at Geia ; 
id. p. 741. By Agathocles's brother 
8000 banished from Syracuse ; lib. xx. 
p. 757. The inhabitants of jEgesta, to 
the number of 40,000, were killed, man, 
woman, and child ; and with tortures, 
for the sake of their money ; id. p. 802. 
All the relations, to wit, father, brother, 
children, grandfather, of his Libyan 
army, killed; id. p. 803. He killed 
7000 exiles after capitulation ; id. p. 
816. It is to be remarked , that Agatho- 
cles was a man of great sense" and 
courage, 1 and is not to be suspected of 
wanton cruelty, contrary to the maxims 
of his age. 

4 Diod. Sic. lib. xviii. c. 8. 



1 [Theremainder is not in Editions H 
to O. P has instead of it : His violent 



tyranny, therefore, is a stronger proof 
of the measures of the age.] 



406 ESSAY XI. 

Even when affairs came not to such extremities (which 
they failed not to do almost in every city twice or thrice 
every century) property was rendered very precarious by the 
maxims of ancient government. Xenophon, in the Banquet 
of Soceates, gives us a natural unaffected description of the 
tyranny of the Athenian people. 'In my poverty,' says 
Chaemides, ' 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 continually 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.' 1 

In one of the pleadings of Lysias, 2 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 
forfeiture. 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 
people, it seems indeed requisite, either that he should im- 
poverish himself, or that the people would impoverish him, 
and perhaps kill him into the bargain. The orator last 
mentioned gives a pleasant account of an estate laid out in 
the public service 3 ; that is, above the third of it in raree- 
shows and figured dances. 

1 Pag. 885. ex edit. Leunclav. nian fortune, and what alone would be 

2 Orat. 29. in Nicom. 185. esteemed great riches, Orat. 21, 161. Tis 
8 In order to recommend his client to true, he says, the law did not oblige him 

the favour of the people, he enumerates absolutely to be at so much expence, not 

all the sums he had expended. When above a fourth. But without the favour 

Xopyybs, 30 minas : Upon a chorus of men of the people, no body was so much as 

20 minas; tis wppix^ras, 8 minas; safe; and this was the only way to gain 

avSpdai xopyyvv, 50 minas ; kvk\ik<j> it. See farther, orat. 25. de pop. statu. 

XPV> 3 minas; Seven times trierarch, In another place, he introduces a speaker, 

where he spent 6 talents : Taxes, once who says that he had spent his whole 

30 minas, another time 40; yvixvaffiapx&v, fortune, and an immense one, eighty 

12 minas; x<Wy&* *ai5iK$ xPV> 15 talents, for the people. Orat. 26 deprob. 

minas; Kw/xySoty xPvy<>>v, 18 minas; Evandri. The fitroiKoi, or strangers, 

irvppixi<TTcus ay evelois, 7 minas ; rprfiptt find, says ho, if they do not contribute 

apiWwufi/os, 15 minas; apxiBtwpos, 30 largely enough to the people's fancy, 

minas : In the whole ten talents 38 that they have reason to repent. Orat. 

minas. An immense sum for an Athe- 31 contra Phil. You may see with what 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 407 

I need not insist on the Geeek tyrannies, which were alto- 
gether horrible. Even the mixed monarchies, by which most 
of the ancient states of Greece were governed, before the 
introduction of republics, were very unsettled. Scarcely any 
city, but Athens, says Isocrates, could show a succession of 
kings for four or five generations. 1 

Besides many other obvious reasons for the instability of 
ancient 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 
preference given to the elder by modern laws, though it en- 
creases the inequality of fortunes, has, however, this good 
effect, that it accustoms men to the same idea in public suc- 
cession, 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 
expedient than immediately putting to death about 500 of 
the citizens. 2 A strong proof how deeply rooted these violent 
maxims of government were throughout all Greece. 

If such was the disposition of men's minds among that 
refined people, what may be expected in the commonwealths 
of Italy, Apric, Spain, and Gaul, which were denominated 
barbarous ? Why otherwise did the Greeks so much value 
themselves on their humanity, gentleness, and moderation, 
above all other nations 9 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, 3 observing the singular hu- 
manity of the Roman people in this particular, makes use of 
it as an argument that they were orginally 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-mentioned. 

care Demosthenes displays his expences valued themselves on having the most 

of this nature, when he pleads for him- legal and regular administration of any 

self de corona ; and how he exaggerates people in G-keece. 

MrniAs's stinginess in this particular, in l Panath. 258. 

his accusation of that criminal. All this, 2 Diod. Sic. lib. xiv. 38. 

by the by, is a mark of a very iniquitous 3 Lib. i. 89. 

judicature: And yet the Athenians 



408 ESSAY XL 

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, proscrip- 
tions, and forfeitures, that ever was presented to the 
world. What pleases most, in that historian, is that he 
seems to feel a proper resentment of these barbarous pro- 
ceedings ; and talks not with that provoking coolness and 
indifference, which custom had produced in many of the 
Greek historians. 1 

The maxims of ancient politics contain, in general, so 
little humanity and moderation, that it seems superfluous to 
give any particular reason for the acts of violence committed 
at any particular period. Yet I cannot forbear observing, 
that the laws, in the later period of the Roman common- 
wealth, were so absurdly 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 dangerous any citizen might be, he 
could not regularly be punished otherwise than by banish- 
ment : And it became necessary, in the revolutions of party, 
to draw the sword of private vengeance ; nor was it easy, 
when laws were once violated, to set bounds to these sangui- 
nary proceedings. Had Brutus himself prevailed over the 
triumvirate, could he, in common prudence have allowed 
Octavius and Anthony, to live, and have contented himself 
with banishing them to Rhodes or Marseilles, where 
they might still have plotted new commotions and rebel- 
lions ? His executing C. Antonius, brother to the triumvir, 
shows evidently his sense of the matter. Did not Cicero, 

1 The authorities cited above, are all and their deputies. Tho plots in that 

historians, orators, and philosophers, kingdom are usually the workmanship 

whose testimony is unquestioned. 'Tis of those persons,' $c. Gulliver's travels. 

dangerous to rely upon writers who deal Such a representation might suit tho 

in ridicule and satyr. What will pos- government of Athens ; but not that of 

terity, for instance, infer from this pas- England, which is a prodigy even in 

sage of Dr. Swift? ' I told him, that modern times, for humanity, justice, and 

in the kingdom of Tkibnia (Britain) liberty. Yot the Doctor's satyr, tho' 

by the natives called Lanodon (London) carried to extremes, as is usual with 

where I had sojourned some time in my him, even beyond other satyrical writers, 

travels, the bulk of the people consist, did not altogether want an object The 

in a manner, wholly of discoverers, Bishop of Rochester, who was his 

witnesses, informers, accusers, prosecu- friend, and of the same party, had been 

tors, evidences, swearers, together with banished a little beforo by a bill of at- 

their several subservient and subaltern tainder, with great justice, but without 

instruments, .all under the colours, the such a proof as was legal, or according 

conduct, and pay of ministers of state to the strict forms of common law. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 409 

with the approbation of all the wise and virtuous of Kome, 
arbitrarily put to death Catiline's accomplices, contrary to 
law, and without any trial or form of process P 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 government 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 relaxa- 
tion 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 governments, 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 l laws excluded 
no freeman from votes or elections, but confined some magis- 
tracies to a particular census; yet were the people never 
satisfied till those laws were repealed. By the treaty with 
Antipater, 2 no Athenian was allowed a vote whose census 
was less than 2000 drachmas (about 601. 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. 3 
Cassander reduced that census to the half; 4 yet still the 
government was considered as an oligarchical tyranny, and 
the effect of foreign violence. 

Servius Tullius's 5 laws seem equal and reasonable, by 
fixing the power in proportion to the property : Yet the 
Soman people 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. 6 At present, 

1 Pltjtarchtjs in vita Solon, 18. 5 Tit. Liv. lib. i. cap. 43. 

2 Dion. Sic. lib. xviii. 18. 6 [The remainder of this paragraph 

3 Id. ibid. was added in Edition R.] 
* Id. ibid. 74. 



410 ESSAY XL 

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, Ehodes, or 
the most celebrated in antiquity. Almost all of them are 
well-tempered Aristocracies. 

But thirdly, there are many other circumstances, in which 
ancient nations seem inferior to the modern, both for the 
happiness and encrease of mankind. Trade, manufactures, 
industry, were no where, in former ages, so flourishing as 
they are at present in Europe. The only garb of the an- 
cients, 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 Carthage, the greatest commerce of 
any city in the Mediterranean, before it was destroyed by 
'Alexander, was no mighty city, if we credit Arrian's ac- 
count of its inhabitants. 1 Athens is commonly supposed to 
have been a trading city : But it was as populous before the 
Median war as at any time after it, according to Herodotus ; 2 
yet its commerce, at that time, was so inconsiderable, that, 
as the same historian observes, 3 even the neighbouring coasts 
of Asia were as little frequented by the Greek as the 
pillars of Hercules : For beyond these he conceived nothing. 

Great interest of money, and great profits of trade, are 
an infallible indication, that industry and commerce are but 
in their infancy. We read in Ltsias 4 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, 8 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 
at 12. 6 The most moderate interest at Athens, (for there 

1 Lib.ii. 24. There were 8,000 killed du- thage. 

ring the siege; and thecaptives amounted * Lib. v. 97, he makes the number of 

to 30,000. Diodortjs Sictjltjs, lib. xvii. the citizens amount to 30,000. 

46, says only 13,000: But he accountsfor lb. viii. 132. 

this small number, by saying that the 4 Orat. 32, 908 advers. Diooit. 

Tyrians had sent away before-hand part * Contra Aphob. p. 25. ex edit, kvau 

of their wives and children to Car- 6 Id. p. 19. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 411 

was higher 1 often paid) was 12 per cent., 2 and that paid 
monthly. Not to insist npon the high interest, to which the 
vast sums distributed in elections had raised money 3 at 
Eome, 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 
because it had never been customary to state any interest on 
such occasions. 4 Interest, indeed, sunk at Eome, after the 
settlement of the empire : But it never remained any con- 
siderable time so low, as in the commercial states of modern 
times. 5 

Among the other inconveniencies, which the Athenians 
felt from the fortifying of Decelia by the Lacedemonians, 
it is represented by Thucydides, 6 as one of the most con- 
siderable, 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 promontorj' of Sunium. A 
surprising instance of the imperfection of ancient naviga- 
tion ! 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 
manufacture. The commerce, which is said to flourish, is 
chiefly the exchange of those commodities, for which dif- 
ferent soils and climates were suited. The sale of wine and 
oil into Africa, acccording to Diodorus Siculus, 7 was the 
foundation of the riches of Agrigentum. The situation of 
the city of Sybaris, according to the same author, 8 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 navigable ; and could only produce some 
fertile vallies, for agriculture and tillage ; an advantage so 
inconsiderable, that a modern writer would scarcely have 
taken notice of it. 

The barbarity of the ancient tyrants, together with the 
extreme love of liberty, which animated those ages, must 
have banished every merchant and manufacturer, and have 

1 Id. ibid. s See Essay IV. 

2 Id. ibid, and .ZEschines contra 6 Lib. vii. 28. 
Ctesiph. 104. 7 Lib. xiii. 81. 

3 Epist. ad Attic, lib. iv. epist. 15. 8 Lib. xii. 9. 

4 Contra Verb. orat. 3, 71. 



412 ESSAY XL 

quite depopulated the state, had it subsisted upon industry 
and commerce. While the cruel and suspicious Dionysius 
was carrying on his butcheries, who, that was not detained 
by his landed property, and could have carried with him any 
art or skill to procure a subsistence 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 Frrace. 

I grant, that agriculture is the species of industry chiefly 
requisite 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 trades- 
men, 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 esteemed 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 instances, 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, of encouraging husbandry, is, first, to excite 
other kinds of industry, 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 universal ; and, as it prevails 
more in modern government than in the ancient, it affords a 
presumption of the superior populousness of the former. 

Every man, says Xenophon, 1 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 agriculture 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 
1 Oecon.15, 10. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 413 

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 establish- 
ment 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 families 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 exami- 
ner would give us the preference in this particular. 1 

Thus, upon comparing the whole, it seems impossible to 
assign 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 favour- 
able 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 disadvantages seem to form a sufficient counter- 
balance to the former 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 
reasonings, I acknowledge to be mere trifling, or, at least, 
small skirmishes and frivolous rencounters, which decide 
nothing. But unluckily the main combat, where we com- 
pare 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 otherwise ? The very facts, which 

1 See Part I. Essay XI. 



414 ESSAY XI. 

we must oppose to them, in computing the populousness of 
modern states, are far from being either certain or complete. 
Many grounds of calculation proceeded on by celebrated 
writers, are little better than those of the Emperor Helio- 
gabaltjs, who formed an estimate of the immense greatness 
of Eome, from ten thousand pound weight of cobwebs which 
had been found in that city. 1 

It is to be remarked, that all kinds of numbers are uncer- 
tain in ancient manuscripts, and have been subject to much 
greater corruptions than any other part of the text; and 
that for an obvious 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 afford 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 entered for a share in the government, and there were 
exact registers 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 Thuctdides is, in my opinion, the com- 
mencement of real history. All preceding narrations are so 
intermixed with fable, 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 autho- 
rity. The free citizens of Stbaris, able to bear arms, and 
actually drawn out in battle, were 300,000. They encoun- 
tered at Siagea with 100,000 citizens of Cbotona, another 
Gbeez city contiguous to them ; and were defeated. This 



1 JEiji Lampeid. in vita Heliooab. printing, has obliged modern historians 
cap. 26. to be more careful in avoiding contra- 

2 In general, there is more candour and dictions and incongruities. Diodortjs 
sincerity in ancient historians, but less Sicumts is a good writer, but it is with 
exactness and care, than in the moderns. pain I see his narration contradict, in so 
Our speculative factions, especially those many particulars, the two most authentic 
of religion, throw such an illusion over pieces of all Greek history, to wit, Xeno- 
our minds, that men seem to regard im- phon's expedition, and Demosthenes's 
partiality to their adversaries and to orations. Pltttarch and Appian seem 
heretics, as a vice or weakness: But the scarce ever to have read Cicero's 
commonness of books, by means of epistles. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 415 

is Diodorus Siculus's account; and is very seriously 
insisted on by that historian. 2 Strabo also mentions the 
same number of Sybarites. 

Diodorus Siculus, 3 enumerating the inhabitants of Agri- 
gentum, when it was destroyed by the Carthaginians, says, 
that they amounted to 20,000 citizens, 200,000 strangers, 
besides 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. 4 And what was the reason 
of so immense an encrease ! They were industrious in culti- 
vating 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. 

Ptolemy, says Theocritus, 5 commands 33,339 cities. I 
suppose the singularity of the number was the reason of 
assigning it. Diodortjs Siculus 6 assigns three millions of 
inhabitants to ^Egypt, a small number : But then he makes 
the number of cities amount to 18,000 : An evident contra- 
diction. 

He says, 7 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 encum- 
bering 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 8 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 9 says, that the Eomans, between the first and 
second Punic wars, being threatened with an invasion from 

1 Lib.xii. 9. s Idyll. 17. 

2 Lib. vi. 26. 6 Lib. i. 18. 
8 Lib. xiii. 90. 7 Id. ibid. 

4 Diogenes Laeetitjs (in vita Empe- 8 Orat.funebris, 193. 

docxis) says, that Agrigentum contained B Lib. ii. 24. 

only 800,000 inhabitants. 



416 ESSAY XI. 

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 l not less, if not rather 
more, than that extent of country affords at present. 2 The 
enumeration too seems to have been made with some exact- 
ness ; and Polybius gives us the detail of the particulars. 
But might not the number be magnified, in order to encou- 
rage the people ? 

Diodorus Siculus 3 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 : Another 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 Caesar, according to Appian, 4 encountered four 
millions of Gauls, killed one million, and made another 
million prisoners. 5 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 soldiers ? No attention ought ever to be 
given to such loose, exaggerated calculations ; especially 
where the author does not tell us the mediums, upon which 
the calculations were founded. 

Paterculus 6 makes the number of Gauls killed by (Iesar 
amount only to 400,000 : A more probable account, and 
more easily reconciled to the history of these wars given by 
that conqueror himself in his Commentaries. 7 8 The most 
bloody of his battles were fought against the Helvetii and 
the Germans. 

1 [Not less, if not rather added 8 Lib. ii. cap. 47. 

in Edition M.] 7 Pliny, lib. vii. cap. 25, says, that 

2 The country that supplied this C^sar used to boast, that there had 
number, was not above a third of Italy, fallen in battle against him one million 
viz. the Pope's dominions, Tuscany, and one hundred and ninety -two thousand 
a part of the kingdom of Naples : But men, besides those who perished in the 
perhaps in those early times there were civil wars. It is not probable, that that 
very few slaves, except in Rome, or the conqueror could ever pretend to be so 
great cities. [The last clause was added exact in his computation. But allowing 
in Edition K.] the fact, it is likely, that the Helvetii, 

8 Lib. ii. 6. Germans, and Britons, whom he slaugh- 

4 Celtica, c. 2. tered, would amount to near a half of 

8 Plutarch (in vita Cms. 15) makes the number. [This note was added in 



the number that Cssar fought with Edition R. 
amount to three millions ; Julian (in * \ ~ 

Ajbsaribus) to two. tion 



amount to three millions ; Julian (in " [This sentence was added in Edi- 

onR.l 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 417 

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 genius, and who was a courtier 
and minister of that prince. But can we admit, that he 
had a standing army of 100,000 foot, 10,000 horse, and a 
fleet of 400 gallies? 1 These, we may observe, were mer- 
cenary 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 country- 
men to vindicate their liberty, he was obliged to bring arms 
along with him, which he distributed among those who 
joined him. 2 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 occa- 
sion : But great bodies of mercenary troops can never be 
maintained, without either great trade and numerous manu- 
factures, or extensive dominions. The United Provinces 
never were masters of such a force by sea and land, as that 
which is said to belong to Dionysius ; yet they possess as 
large a territory, perfectly well cultivated, and have much 
more resources from their commerce and industry. Diodorus 
Siculus allows, that, even in his time, the army of Diony- 
sius appeared incredible; that is, as I interpret it, was 
entirely a fiction, and the opinion arose from the exaggerated 
flattery of the courtiers, and perhaps from the vanity and 
policy of the tyrant himself. 3 

1 Diod. Sic. lib. ii. 5. perience. I shall give an instance with 

2 Pltjtaech in vita Dionys, 25. regard to modern history. Sir William 

3 [Editions H to M proceed as fol- Temple tells us, in his memoirs, that 
lows : The critical art may very justly having a free conversation with Charles 
be suspected of temerity, when it pre- the II., he took the opportunity of re- 
tends to correct or dispute the plain presenting to that monarch the impossi- 
testimony of ancient historians by any bility of introducing into this island 
probable or analogical reasonings : Yet the religion and government of France, 
the licence of authors upon all subjects, chiefly on account of the great force 
particularly with regard to numbers, is requisite to subdue the spirit and liberty 
so great, that we ought still to retain a of so brave a people. ' The Komans,' 
kind of doubt or reserve, whenever the says he, ' were forced to keep up twelve 
facts advanced depart in the least from legions for that purpose ' (a great ab- 
the common bounds of nature and ex- surdity), ' and Cromwell left an army 



1 Strabo, lib. iv. 200, says, that one up somewhat a greater force in this 
legion would be sufficient, with a few island, which they never took the pains 
cavalry ; but the Eomans commonly kept entirely to subdue. 

VOL. III. E E 



418 ESSAX XI. 

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 nourished 
extremely in Sicily during the age of Alexander : But in 
Augustus's time they were so decayed, that almost all the 
produce of that fertile island was consumed in Italy. 1 

Let us now examine the numbers of inhabitants assigned 
to particular cities in antiquity ; and omitting the numbers 
of Nineveh, Babylon, and the Egyptian Thebes, let us 
confine ourselves to the sphere of real history, to the 
Grecian and Eoman states. I must own, the more I con- 
sider this subject, the more am I inclined to scepticism, with 
regard to the great populousness ascribed to ancient times. 

Athens is said by Plato 2 to be a very great city ; and 
it was surely the greatest of all the Greek 3 cities, except 
Syracuse, which was nearly about the same size in Thucy- 
dides's 4 time, and afterwards encreased beyond it. For 
Cicero 5 mentions it as the greatest of all the Greek cities 
in his time ; not comprehending, I suppose, either Antioch 
or Alexandria under that denomination. Athen^eus 6 says, 

of near eighty thousand men.' Must 2 Apolog. Socr. 29 d. 

not this last be regarded as unquestioned ' Argos seems also to have been a 

by future critics, when they find it as- great city ; for Lycias contents himself 

serted by a wise and learned minister with saying that it did not exceed 

of state cotemporary to the fact, and Athens. Orat. 34, 922. 

who addressed his discourse, upon an 4 Lib. vi. See also Plutarch in 

ungrateful subject, to a great monarch vita Nicije, 17. 

who was also cotemporary, and who * Orat. contra Verrem, lib. iv. cap. 52. 

himself broke those very forces about Strabo, lib. vi. 270, says, it was twenty- 

fourteen years before ? Yet, by the two miles in compass. But then we are 

most undoubted authority, we may in- to consider, that it contained two har- 

sist, that Cromwell's army, when he hours within it; one of which was a 

died, did not amount to half the num- very large one, and might be regarded 

ber here mentioned. 1 ] as a kind of bay. 

1 Strabo, lib. vi. 273. Lib. vi. cap. 20. 



1 It appears that Cromwell's parlia- foot and 10,000 horse are fixed by 
ment, in 1656, settled but 1,300,000 Cromwell himself, and afterwards con- 
pounds a year on him for the constant firmed by the parliament, as the regular 
charges of government in all the three standing army of the commonwealth, 
kingdoms. See ScobeL chap. 31. This That number, indeed, seems not to have 
was to supply the fleet, army, and civil been much exceeded during the whole 
list. It appears from Whitelocke, that time of the protectorship. See farther 
in the year 1649, the sum of 80,000 Thurlo, Vol. II. pp. 413, 499, 568. We 
pounds a month was the estimate for may there see, that though the Protector 
40,000 men. We must conclude, there- had more considerable armies in Ireland 
fore, that Cromwell had much less than and Scotland, he had not sometimes 
that number upon pay in 1656. In the more than 4,000 or 5,000 men in Eng- 
very instrument of government, 20,000 land. 



POrULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 419 

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 insisted on by those 
whose opinion I call in question, and is esteemed a funda- 
mental fact to their purpose : But, in my opinion, there is 
no point of criticism more certain, than that Athen^eus 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 Athen^eus, 1 men of full age are only understood. For, 
(1.) Herodotus says, 2 that Aristagoras, ambassador from 
the Ionians, found it harder to deceive one Spartan than 
30,000 Athenians; meaning, in a loose way, the whole 
state, supposed to be met in one popular assembly, excluding 
the women and children. (2.) Thucydides 3 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 historian, 4 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 understand men 
of full age when they assign the number of citizens in any 
republic. Now, these being but the fourth of the inhabitants, 
the free Athenians were by this account 84,000; the 
strangers 40,000 ; and the slaves, calculating by the smaller 
number, and allowing that they married and propagated at 
the same rate with freemen, were 160,000 ; and the whole 
of the inhabitants 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. 5 
Thirdly, Though the extent of the walls, as given us by 
Thucydides, 6 be great, (to wit, eighteen miles, beside the 
sea-coast) : Yet Xenophon 7 says, there was much waste 
ground within the walls. They seem indeed to have joined 
four distinct and separate cities. 8 

1 Demosthenes assigns 20,000; con- count perfectly agrees, lib. xii. 40. 
tra Aristog, 785. 5 Xenophon. Mem. lib. iii. 6, 14. 

2 Lib. v. 99. 6 Lib. ii. 13. 

3 Lib. viii. 72. 7 Be ratione red. 2, 6. 

* Lib. ii. 13. Diodorus Sicultjs's ac- 8 We are to observe, that when 



420 ESSAY XI. 

Fourthly, No insurrection of the slaves, or suspicion of 
insurrection, is ever mentioned by historians; except one 
commotion of the miners. 1 

Fifthly, The treatment of slaves by the Athenians is said 
by Xenophon, 3 and Demosthenes, 3 and Plautus, 4 to have 
been extremely gentle and indulgent : Which could never 
have been the case, had the disproportion been twenty to 
one. The disproportion is not so great in any of our colo- 
nies; yet are we obliged to exercise a rigorous military 
government over the negroes. 

Sixthly, No man is ever esteemed rich for possessing what 
may be reckoned an equal distribution of property in any 
country, or even triple or quadruple that wealth. Thus 
every person 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 iEscniNES 5 to 
have been left in easy circumstances ; 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. 6 
Demosthenes was left very rich by his father ; yet he had 
no more than fifty-two slaves. 7 His work-house, of twenty 
cabinet-makers, is said to be a very considerable manu- 
factory. 8 

Seventhly, During the Decelian war, as the Greek his- 
torians call it, 20,000 slaves deserted, and brought the 
Athenians to great distress, as we learn from Thucydides. 9 
This could not have happened, had they been only the 
twentieth part. The best slaves would not desert. 

Eighthly, Xenophon 10 proposes a scheme for maintaining 
by the public 10,000 slaves : And that so great a number 
may possibly be supported, any one will be convinced, says 

Dionystus Halycarnassjeus says, that This observation destroys all Vossrus's 

if we regard the ancient walls of Rome, reasonings, and introduces common sense 

the extent of that city will not appear into these calculations. 

greater than that of Athens; he must ' Athbn. lib. vi. 104. 

mean the Acropolis and high town 2 De rep. Athen, 1. 

only. No ancient author ever speaks * Philip. 3, 31. 

of the Pyrjeum, Phalebus, and Muny- * Sticho. 3. 1, 39. 

chia, as the same with Athens. Much * Contra Timarch. 42. 

less can it be supposed, that Dionysius Orat. xii. 

would consider the matter in that light, 7 Contra Aphob. 816. 

after the walls of Cimon and Pericles 8 Ibid. 

were destroyed, and Athkns was en- * Lib. vii. 27. 

tirely separated from these other towns. ,0 De rat. red. 4, 25. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 421 

he^ who considers the numbers we possessed before the 
Decelian war. A way of speaking altogether incompatible 
with the larger number of Athen2EUS. 

Ninthly, The whole census of the state of Athens was 
less than 6000 talents. And though numbers in ancient 
manuscripts be often suspected by critics, yet this is unex- 
ceptionable ; both because Demosthenes, 1 who gives it, 
gives also the detail, which checks him ; and because Poly- 
bius 2 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 maintenance, as we learn from 
Xenophon, 3 who says, that Nicias's overseer paid his master 
so much for slaves, whom he employed in 4 mines. If you will 
take the pains to estimate an obolus a day, and the slaves at 
400,000, computing only at four years purchase, you will 
find the sum above 12,000 talents ; even though allowance 
be made for the great number of holidays in Athens. 
Besides, many of the slaves would have a much greater 
value from their art. The lowest that Demosthenes esti- 
mates any of his 5 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 Thuctdides, 6 to contain more 
slaves than any Geeek city, except Spaeta. Spaeta then 
had more than Athens, in proportion to the number of 
citizens. The Spaetans were 9000 in the town, 30,000 in 
the country. 7 The male slaves, therefore, of full age, must 
have been more than 780,000 ; the whole more than 
3,120,000. A number impossible to be maintained in a 
narrow barren country, such as LaconiA, which has no trade. 
Had the Helotes been so very numerous, the murder of 
2000 mentioned by Thuctdides, 8 would have irritated them, 
without weakening them. 

Besides, we are to consider, that the number assigned by 
Athen^eus, 9 whatever it is, comprehends all the inhabitants 

1 Be classibus, 183. 7 Plutarch, in vita Lyctrg, 8. 

2 Lib. ii. cap. 62. 8 Lib. iv.80. 

8 Be rat. red. 4, 14. 9 The same author affirms, that 

4 [In digging of mines, and also kept Coeinth had once 460, 000 slaves, iEGiNA 
up the number of slaves: Editions H 470,000. But the foregoing arguments 
I. In digging of mines : K to Q,.] hold stronger against these facts, which 

5 Contra Aphobdm, 816. are indeed entirely absurd and impos- 

6 Lib. viii. 40. sible. It is however remarkable, that 



422 ESSAY XI. 

of Attica, as well as those of Athens. The Athenians 
affected much a country life, as we learn from Thuoydides ; l 
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. 2 

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 
populous 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 commo- 
dity, the other cities seem to have subsisted chiefly from 
their neighbouring territory. 8 

Ehodes is well known to have been a city of extensive 
commerce, and of great fame and splendor ; yet it contained 
only 6,000 citizens able to bear arms, when it was besieged 
by Demetrius. 4 

Thebes was always one of the capital cities of Greece : 5 
But the number of its citizens exceeded not those of Rhodes. 6 

Athenjeus cites so great an authority, seems to have been about the size of 
as Aristotle for this last fact : And our third rates, carried as much corn as 
the scholiast on Pindar mentions the would maintain Attica for a twelve- 
same number of slaves in ^Egina. month. But perhaps Athens was de- 

1 Lib. li. 14. cayed at that time ; and, besides, it is 

2 Id. lib. ii. 17- not safe to trust to such loose rhetorical 

3 Demcst. contra Left. 466. The calculations. 
Athenians brought yearly from Pontus 4 Diod. Sic. lib. xx. 84. 
400,000 medimni or bushels of corn, as 5 Isocr. paticg. 

appeared from the custom-house books. 8 Diod. Sic. lib. xvii.14. 2 When Alex- 

And this was the greater part of their ander attacked Thebes, we may safely 

importation of corn. This, by the by, conclude that almost all the inhabitants 

is a strong proof that there is some were present. Whoever is acquainted 

great mistake in the foregoing passage with the spirit of tho Greeks, especially 

of Athenseus. For Attica itself was so of the Thobans, will never suspect that 

barren of corn, that it produced not any of them would dosert their country 

enough even to maintain the peasants. when it was reduced to such extreme 

Tit. Liv. lib. xliii. cap. 6. 'And 400,000 peril and distress. As Alexander took 

medimni would scarcely feed 100,000 the town by storm, all those who bore 

men during a twelvemonth. Lucian, in arms were put to the sword without 

his navigium sive vota, says, that a mercy, and they amounted only to 6,000 

ship, which, by the dimensions he gives, men. Among thcso were some strangers 



1 [This sentence was added in Edi- 2 [Diod. Sic. lib. 15 and 17 : Editions 

tion Q.] H and I, and omit the rest of this note.] 




POPULOUSNESS OF ANCTENT NATIONS. 423 

Phliasia is said to be a small city by Xenophon, 1 yet we 
find that it contained 6,000 citizens. 2 I pretend not to 
reconcile these two facts. 3 Perhaps, Xenophon calls 
Phliasia a small town, because it made but a small figure 
in Geeece, and maintained only a subordinate alliance with 
Spaeta; 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 Aecadia : 4 Conse- 
quently it was equal to Megalopolis, which was fifty stadia, 
or six miles and a quarter in circumference. 5 But Mantinea 
had only 3,000 citizens. 6 The Geeek cities, therefore, con- 
tained often fields and gardens, together with the houses ; 
and we cannot judge of them by the extent of their walls. 
Athens contained no more than 10,000 houses ; yet its walls, 
with the sea-coast, were above twenty miles in extent. 
Steacuse 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 we learn from Pliny. Though Auee- 
lian's wall was fifty miles in circumference ; 7 the circuit of 
all the thirteen divisions of Eome, taken apart, according to 
Publius Yictoe, 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. 

Spaeta, says Xenophon, 8 is one of the cities of Geeece 

and manumitted slaves. The captives, A very moderate number, it must be 

consisting of old men, women, children, confessed ; and this computation, being 

and slaves, were sold, and they amoun- founded on facts which appear indis- 

ted to 30,000. We may therefore con- putable, must have great weight in the 

elude, that the free citizens in Thebes, present controversy. The above-men- 

of both sexes and all ages, were near tioned number of Ehodians, too, were 

24,000, the strangers and slaves about all the inhabitants of the island who 

12,000. These last, we may observe, were free, and able to bear arms. 

were somewhat fewer in proportion ' Hist. Grjec. lib. vii. 2, 1. 

than at Athens, as is reasonable to 2 Id. lib. vii. 

imagine from this circumstance, that 8 [The remainder of the paragraph 

Athens was a town of more trade to was added in Edition K.] 

support slaves, and of more entertain- * Polyb. lib. ii. 56. 

ment to allure strangers. It is also to 5 Polyc. lib. ix. cap. 20. 

be remarked, that 36,000 was the -whole 6 Lysias, orat. 34, 92.. 

number of people, both in the city of 7 Vopiscus in vita Attrel, 222 b. 

Thebes and the neighbouring territory. 8 Be rep. Laced. 1, 1. This passage is 



424 ESSAY XI. 

that has the fewest inhabitants. Yet Polybius l says that 
it was forty-eight stadia in circumference, and was round. 

All the iETOLiANS able to bear arms in Antipater's time, 
3 deducting some few garrisons, were but ten thousand men. 3 

Polybius 4 tells us, that the Acelean league might, with- 
out any inconvenience, march 30 or 40,000 men : And this 
account seems probable : For that league comprehended the 
greater part of Peloponnesus. Yet Pausanias, 5 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. 6 It 
is not therefore natural to suppose, that this part of Greece 
abounded much in people. 

7 We are told by Thuoydides, 8 that the part of Pelopon- 
nesus, adjoining to Pylos, was desart and uncultivated. 
Herodotus says, 9 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 con- 
ditions, who were sold by Paulus JGmilius, amounted only 
to 150,000. 10 Yet Epirus might be double the extent of 
Yorkshire. 11 

not easily reconciled with that of Plxt- ber comprehends, I suppose, all the 

tarch above, who says, that Sparta free citizens, throughout all the cities ; 

had 9000 citizens. but the authority, on which that coni- 

1 Poi.tb. lib. ix. cap. 20. pilation is founded, has, I own, escap'd 

2 [Deducting some few garrisons: either my memory or reading ; and that 
not in F G.] writer, tho' otherwise very ingenious, 

8 Dion. Sic. lib. xviii. 24. has given into a bad practice, of de- 

* Legat. livering a great deal of erudition, with- 
5 In Achaicis, 7. 15, 7. out one citation. But supposing, tli.it 

Tit. Liv. lib. xxxiv. cap. 51. Plato that enumeration cou'd be justit'vM by 
in Critonb, 53 d. good authority from antiquity, we may 

7 [This paragraph was added in Edi- establish tho following computation, 
tion K.] The free Greeks of all ages and 

8 Lib. iv. 3. were 920,000. The slaves, computing 

9 Lib. vii. 126. them by the number of Athenian 

10 Tit. Liv. lib. xlv. cap. 34. slaves as above, who seldom marry'd 

11 [Editions Hand I add the following or had families, were double the m.ilo 
note, in place of tho following para- citizens of full age, viz. 460,000. And 
graph : A late French writer, in his the whole inhabitants of antient Greece 
observations on the Greeks, has re- about one million, three hundred and 
mark'd, that Philip of Macedon, being eighty thousand. No mighty number nor 
declar'd captain-general of the Grbbks, much exceeding what may be found 
wou'd have been back'd by the force of at present in Scotland, a country of 
230,000 of that nation in his intended nearly tho same extent, and which is 
expedition against Persia. This num- very indifferently peopl'd.] 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 425 

1 Justin 2 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 
concur ; and he found the force of the whole, upon computa- 
tion, to amount to 200,000 infantry, and 15,000 cavalry. 
This must be understood to be all the citizens capable of 
bearing arms. Tor 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 computation. That such an army could 
ever, by Greece, be brought into the field, and be main- 
tained there, is contrary to all history. Upon this supposi- 
tion, 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 double 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 ex- 
ceeding what may be found at present in Scotland, a country 
of not much greater extent, and very indifferently peopled. 

We may now consider the numbers of people in Eome and 
Italy, and collect all the lights afforded us by scattered 
passages 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 insisted on by modern writers. 

Dionysius Halicarnass^eus 3 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 author, 4 from Juvenal, 5 and from other ancient 
writers, 6 that the houses were high, and families lived in 

1 [This paragraph was added in Edi- high. See also to the same purpose 
tion K.] Vitrttvtus, lib. ii. cap. 8. Aeistides 

2 Lib. ix. cap. 5. the sophist, in his oration s Vdfiriv, 

3 Lib. iv. 13. says, that Eome consisted of cities on 

4 Lib. x. 32. the top of cities ; and that if one were 

5 Satyr, iii. 1. 269. 270. to spread it out, and unfold it, it would 

6 Stkabo, liv. v. says, that the em- cover the whole surface of Italy. Where 
peror Augustus prohibited the raising an author indulges himself in such ex- 
houses higher than seventy feet. In travagant declamations, and gives so 
another passage, lib. xvi. he speaks of much into the hyperbolical style, one 
the houses of Rome as remarkably knows not how fat he must be reduced. 



42G 



ESSAY XI. 



separate storeys, 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 Babtoli's plans of 
ancient buildings, the men of quality had very spacious 
palaces ; and their buildings were like the Chinese houses at 
this day, where each apartment is separated from the rest, 
and rises no higher than a single storey. 2 To which if we 
add, that the Roman nobility much affected extensive por- 
ticoes, and even woods 3 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 4 his own way, with- 



But this reasoning seems natural: If 
Rome was built in so scattered a manner 
as DiONTSitrs says, and ran so much 
into the country, there must have been 
very few streets where the houses were 
raised so high. It is only for want of 
room, that any body builds in that in- 
convenient manner. 

1 Lib. ii. epist. 16. lib. v. epist. 6. It 
is true, Pliny there describes a country- 
house: But since that was the idea 
which the ancients formed of a magni- 
ficent and convenient building, the great 
men would certainly build the same 
way in town. ' In laxitatem ruris 
excurrunt,' says Seneca of the rich 
and voluptuous, epist. 114. Valerius 
Maximtjs, lib. iv. cap. 4. speaking of 
Cincinnati's field of four acres, says, 
' Anguste se habitare nunc putat, cujus 
domus tantum patet quantum Cincin- 
nati rura patuerant.' To the same pur- 
pose see lib. xxxvi. cap. 15. also lib. 
xviii. cap. 2. 

2 [For the history of this sentence 



se p. 57- 
a vi 



r iTRtrv. lib. v. cap. 11. Tacit. 
annal. lib. xi. cap. 3. Sttbton. in vita 
Octav. cap. 72, &c. 

4 'Moenia ejus (RoMiE) collegers 
ambitu imporatoribus, censoribusque 
Vespasianis, A. U. C. 828. pass. xiii. 
MCC. complexa montcs septem, ipsa 
dividitur in regiones quatuordecim, 
compita earum 265. Ejusdem spatii 
mensura, currente a milliario in capite 
Rom. Fori statute, ad singulas portas, 
quae sunt hodie numero 37, ita tit 
duodecim portae semel numerentur, prse- 
tereanturque ex veteribus septem, qua? 
esse desiorunt, efficit passuum per di- 
rectum 30,775. Ad extrema vero tec- 
torum cum castris praetoriis ab eodem 



Milliario, per vicos omnium viarum, 
mensura collegit paulo amplius septua- 
ginta millia passuum. Quo si quis 
altitudinem tectorum addat, dignam 
profecto, aestimationem concipiat, fatea- 
turque nullius urbis magnitudinem in 
toto orbe potuisse ei comparari.' Plin. 
lib. iii. cap. 5. 

All the best manuscripts of Pliny 
read the passage as here cited, and fix 
the compass of the walls of Rome to be 
thirteen miles. The question is, What 
Pliny means by 30,775 paces, and how 
that number was formed? The manner 
in which I conceive it, is this. Rome 
was a semicircular area of thirteen 
miles circumference. The Forum, and 
consequently the Milliarium, we know, 
was situated on the banks of the Tybeb, 
and near the center of the circle, or 
upon the diameter of the semicircular 
area. Though there were thirty-seven 
gates to Rome, yet only twelve of them 
had straight streets, leading from them 
to the Milliarium. Pliny, therefore, 
having assigned the circumference of 
Rome, and knowing that that alone was 
not sufficient to give us a just notion of 
its surface, uses this farther method. 
He supposes all the streets, leading 
from the Milliarium to the twelve gates, 
to be laid together into one straight 
line, and supposes we run along that 
line, so as to count each gate once : In 
which case, he says, that the whole line 
is 30,775 paces : Or, in other M'ords, 
that each street or radius of the semi- 
circular area is upon an average two 
miles and a half; and the whole Length 
of Rome is five miles, and its bnadth 
about half as much, besides the scattered 
suburbs. 

Pkbe Hakdocin understands this 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 



427 



out admitting the extravagant consequences which he draws 
from it. 

The number of citizens who received corn by the public 
distribution in the time of Augustus, were two hundred 
thousand. 1 This one would esteem a pretty certain ground 
of calculation : Yet is it attended with such circumstances 
as throw us back into doubt and uncertainty. 



passage in the same manner ; with re- 
gard to the laying together the several 
streets of Rome into one line, in order 
to compose 30,775 paces : But then he 
supposes, that streets led from the 
Milliarium to every gate, and that no 
street exceeded 800 paces in length. 
But (1.) a semicircular area, whose 
radius was only 800 paces, could never 
have a circumference near thirteen 
miles, the compass of Rome as assigned 
by Pliny. A radius of two miles and 
a half forms very nearly that circum- 
ference. (2.) There is an absurdity in 
supposing a city so built as to have 
streets running to its center from every 
gate in its circumference. These streets 
must interfere as they approach. (3.) 
This diminishes too much from the 
greatness of ancient Rome, and reduces 
that city below even Bristol or Rotter- 
dam. 

The sense which Vossius in his Ob- 
servationes varies puts on this passage 
of Pliny, errs widely in the other ex- 
treme. One manuscript of no authority, 
instead of thirteen miles, has assigned 
thirty miles for the compass of the 
walls of Rome. And Vossius under- 
stands this only of the curvilinear part 
of the circumference; supposing, that 
as the Tyber formed the diameter, 
there were no walls built on that side. 
But (1.) this reading is allowed to be 
contrary to almost all the manuscripts. 
(2.) Why should _ Pliny, a concise 
writer, repeat the compass of the walls 
of Rome in two successive sentences? 
(3.) Why repeat it with so sensible a 
variation? (4.) What is the meaning 
of Pliny's mentioning twice the Mil- 
liarium, if a line was measured that 
had no dependence on the Milliarium ? 
(o.) Aurelian's wall is said by Vopis- 
cus to have been drawn laxiore ambitu, 
and to have comprehended all the build- 
ings and suburbs on the north side of 
the Tyber ; yet its compass was only 
fifty miles ; and even here critics sus- 
pect some mistake or corruption in the 



text ; since the walls, which remain, 
and which are supposed to be the 
same with Aurelian's, exceed not twelve 
miles. It is not probable, that Rome 
would diminish from Augustus to 
Aurelian. It remained still the capital 
of the same empire; and none of the 
civil wars in that long period, except 
the tumults on the death of Maximus 
and Balbinus, ever affected the city. 
Caracalla is said by Aurelius Victor 
to have encreased Rome. (6.) There 
are no remains of ancient buildings, 
which mark any such greatness of 
Rome. Vossius's reply to this objec- 
tion seems absurd. That the rubbish 
would sink sixty or seventy feet under 
ground. It appears from Spartian (in 
vita Sevcri) that the five-mile stone in 
via Lavicana was out of the city. (7.) 
Olympiodorus and Publius Victor fix 
the number of houses in Rome to be 
betwixt forty and fifty thousand. (8.) 
The very extravagance of the conse- 
quences drawn by this critic, as well as 
Lipsius, if they be necessary, destroys 
the foundation on which they are 
grounded : That Rome contained four- 
teen millions of inhabitants ; while the 
whole kingdom of Prance contains 
only five, according to his computa- 
tion, &c. 

The only objection to the sense which 
we have affixed above to the passage of 
Pliny, seems to lie in this, That Pliny, 
after mentioning the thirty-seven gates 
of Rome, assigns only a reason for 
suppressing the seven old ones, and 
says nothing of the eighteen gates, the 
streets leading from which terminated, 
according to my opinion, before they 
reached the Porum. But as Pliny was 
writing to the Romans, who perfectly 
knew the disposition of the streets, it is 
not strange he should take a circum- 
stance for granted, which was so fa- 
miliar to every body. Perhaps too, 
many of these gates led to wharfs upon 
the river. 

1 Ex monument. Ancyr. 



428 ESSAY XI. 

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 l 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 
families, or to every man, woman, and child ? The portion 
every month was five modii to each 2 (about of a bushel). 
This was too little for a family, and too much for an indivi- 
dual. A very accurate antiquary, 3 therefore, infers, that it 
was given to every man of full age : But he allows the 
matter to be uncertain. 

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 
probable. 4 

Were there no false claimants? We are told, 5 that 
Caesar 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 uncertain. It is very doubtful, whether Athens can 
be established as a rule for Rome. Perhaps the Athenians 
had more slaves, because they employed them in manufac- 
tures, 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 
Suetonius, 6 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 founda- 
tion for any inference. 

The public corn, though distributed only to 20,000 citizens, 

1 Tusc. Quest, lib. iii. cap. 48. convenient, (as preserving, I suppose, 

2 Licinius apud Sallust. hist. frag. a more regular (Economy in their family) 
lib. iii. desired to have them restored, Sxikton. 

* Nvcolaus Hortensius de re f rumen- Attgust, cap. 40. Had not some of 

taria Roman. the people come from some dittance 

4 Not to take the people too much for their corn, Augustus's precaution 

from their business, Augustus ordained seems superfluous, 

the distribution of corn to be made * Sueton. in Jul. cap. 41. 

only thrice a-year : But the people In vita Neronis. 39. 
finding the monthly distributions more 



POPULOUSNESS OP ANCIENT NATIONS. 



429 



affected very considerably the whole agriculture of Italy : l 
a fact no wise reconcileable to some modern exaggerations 
with regard to the inhabitants of that country. 

The best ground of conjecture I can find concerning the 
greatness of ancient Rome is this : We are told by Herodian, 2 
that Antioch and Alexandria were very little inferior to 
Rome. It appears from Diodorus Siculus, 3 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 ; 4 and Rome might be about the size of London. 

There lived in Alexandria, in Diodorus Siculus's time, 5 
300,000 free people, comprehending, I suppose, women and 
children. 6 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. 

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. 7 This was Nero's golden 
house, which is indeed represented by Suetonius 8 and Pliny 



1 Sueton. Aug. cap. 42. 

2 Lib. iv. cap. 5, 
8 Lib. xvii. 62. 

4 Quiutus Curtius says, its walls were 
ten miles in circumference, when foun- 
ded by Alexander, lib. iv. cap. 8. 
Strabo, who had travelled to Alexan- 
dria as well as Diodorus Siculus, says 
it was scarce four miles long, and in 
most places about a mile broad, lib. 
xvii. Pliny says it resembled a Mace- 
donian cassock, stretching out in the 
corners, lib. v. cap. 10. Notwithstand- 
ing this bulk of Alexandria, which 
seems but moderate, Diodorus Siculus, 
speaking of its circuit as drawn by 
Alexander (which it never exceeded, as 
we learn from Ammianus Marcellinus, 
lib. xxii. cap. 16,) says it was fueyedei 
SiacpepovTa, extremely great, ibid. The 
reason which he assigns for its sur- 
passing all cities in the world (for he 
excepts not Rome) is, that it contained 
300,000 free inhabitants. He also men- 
tions the revenues of the kings, to wit, 
6,000 talents, as another circumstance 
to the same purpose; no such mighty 
sum in our eyes, even though we make 
allowance for the differenc value of 
money. What Strabo says of the neigh- 
bouring country, means only that it was 



peopled, olKovfieva kolKws. Might not 
one affirm, without any great hyperbole, 
that the whole banks of the river, from 
Gravesend to Windsor, are one city? 
This is even more than Strabo says of 
the banks of the lake Mareotis, and of 
the canal to Canopus. It is a vulgar 
saying in Italy, that the king of Sar- 
dinia has but one town in Piedmont, 
for it is all a town. Agrippa, in 
Josephus de bello Judaic, lib. ii. cap. 
16, to make his audience comprehend 
the excessive greatness of Alexandria, 
which he endeavours to magnify, de- 
scribes only the compass of the city as 
drawn by Alexander; a clear proof 
that the bulk of the inhabitants were 
lodged there, and that the neighbouring 
country was no more than what might 
be expected about all great towns, very 
well cultivated, and well peopled. 

5 Lib. xvii. 52. 

6 He says i\ev9epoi, not iroKlrai, 
which last expression must have been 
understood of citizens alone, and grown 
men. 

7 Lib. iv. cap. l.ird<TriSTr6\eoos. PoLI- 
tian interprets it ' sedibus majoribus 
etiam reliqua urbe.' 

8 He says (in Nerone cap. 30.) that 
a portico or piazza of it was 3000 



430 ESSAY XI. 

as of an enormous extent ; ! but no power of imagination 
can make us conceive it to bear any proportion to such a city 
as London. 

We may observe, bad tbe historian been relating Nero's 
extravagance, and had he made use of such an expression, it 
would have had much less weight ; these rhetorical exagge- 
rations 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. 

It appears from the same historian, 9 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, without paying any taxes. 
Lands uncultivated, and 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 informed. And it surely 
corresponds very ill with that idea of the extreme populous- 
ness of antiquity, so much insisted on. 

We learn from Vopiscus, 3 that there was even in Etruria 
much fertile land uncultivated, which the Emperor Aurelian 
intended to convert into vineyards, in order to furnish the 
Eoman people with a gratuitous distribution of wine ; a very 
proper expedient for depopulating still farther that capital 
and all the neighbouring territories. 

It may not be amiss to take notice of the account which 
Polybius 4 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 
1 Italy, particularly in former times, through Etruria and 
' Cisalpine Gaul. And a herd frequently consists of a 

feet long; 'tanta laxitas ut porticus Porticus excipiebat Arcton.' Lib. 

triplices milliarias haberet.' He can- 2. ode 16. 

not mean three miles. For the whole So also in lib. 1. satyr. 8. 

extent of the house from the Palatine ' Mille pedes in fronte, trecentos 

to the Esqtjiline was not near so great. cippus in agrum 

So when Vopisc. in Atjreliano men- Hie dabat.' 

tions a portico in Salltjst's gardens, ' Pi-mrus, lib. xxxvi. cap. 15. 'Bis 

which he calls porticus rnilliar crisis, it vidimus urbem totam cingi domibus 

must be understood of a thousand feet. principum, Caii ac Neronis.' 

So also Horace; 2 Lib. ii. cap. 15. 

' Nulla decempedis 3 In Aurelian. cap. 48. 

Metata privatis opacam * Lib. xii. cap. 2. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 431 

'thousand or more swine. When one of these herds in 
' feeding meets with another, they mix together ; and the 
1 swine-herds have no other expedient for separating them 
' than to go to different quarters, where the y sound their horn ; 
' and these animals, being accustomed to that signal, run 
' immediately each to the horn of his own keeper. Whereas 
1 in Greece, if the herds of swine happen to mix in the 

* forests, he who has the greater flock, takes cunningly the 
1 opportunity of driving all away. And thieves are very apt 
6 to purloin the straggling hogs, which have wandered to a 
6 great 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 intermingled 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 1 Ethics, 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 friend- 
ship, and observing, that this relation ought neither to be 
contracted to a very few, nor extended over a great multitude, 
illustrates his 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 ; 
6 so is there a mediocrity 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 2 tells us that Seletjcia, the seat of the Greek 
empire in the East, was reported to contain 600,000 people. 
Carthage is said by Strabo 3 to have contained 700,000. 
The inhabitants of Pekin are not much more numerous. 

1 Lib. ix. cap. 10. His expression is 2 Lib. ri. cap. 28. 

&vOpunros, not no\irr}s ; inhabitant, not 3 Lib. xvii. 833. 

citizen. 



432 ESSAY XI. 

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 conjecture 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 pre- 
vent its farther progress. The seats of vast monarchies, by 
introducing extravagant luxury, irregular expence, idleness, 
dependence, and false ideas of rank and superiority, are im- 
proper 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 nobility, 
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 remoter provinces, whither all the inhabitants, except a 
few courtiers, repair for education, fortune, and amusement. 1 
London, by uniting extensive commerce and middling empire, 
has, perhaps, arrived at a greatness, which no city will ever 
be able to exceed. 

Chuse Dover or Calais for a center : 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 Prance and England. It may 
safely, I think, be affirmed, that no spot of ground can be 
found, in antiquity, 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, 2 that Italy is 
warmer at present than it was in ancient times. * The annals 
' of Eome tell us,' says he, * that in the year 480 ab U.C. the 
6 winter was so severe that it destroyed the trees. The 
1 Tyber froze in Rome, and the ground was covered with 

1 Such were Alexandria, Antioch, Koubn, Arx, &c. in France ; Dublin, 

Carthage, Ephesus, Lyons, &c. in the Edinburgh, York, in the British do- 

Roman empire. Such are even Bour- minions. 

deaux, Tholouse, Dijon, Kennes, 2 Vol. 2. Sect. 16. 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 4.>H 

4 snow for forty days. When Juvenal l describes a super- 
' stitious woman, he represents her as breaking the ice of the 

* Tyber, that 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 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 
4 us information, 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 
4 a north exposure.' 

The observation of this ingenious critic may be extended 
to other European climates. Who could discover the mild 
climate of France in Diodorus Siculus's 2 description of 
that of Gaul ? ' As it is a northern climate,' says he, ' it is 
J infested with cold to an extreme degree. In cloudy weather, 
' instead of rain there fall great snows ; and in clear weather 
' it there freezes so excessive hard, that the rivers acquire 
4 bridges of their own substance, over which, not only 
' single travellers may pass, but large armies, accompanied 
'with all their baggage and loaded waggons. And there 
' being many rivers 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 road passes.' 3 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. 4 

North of the Cevennes, says Strabo, 5 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 

1 Sat. 6. 522. added in Edition R] 

2 Lib. iv. 25. * Be generat. anim. lib. ii. 8, 14. 

3 [The next two sentences are not in a Lib. iv. 178. 
Editions H to K: and the latter was 

VOL. III. F P 



434 ESSAY XI. 

of prose, that the Euxine sea was frozen over every winter 
in his time ; and he appeals to Roman governours, whom he 
names, for the truth of his assertion. 1 This seldom or never 
happens 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 Peters burgh or Stockholm. 

Tournefort, a Provengal, 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 2 says that the climate in Arcadia was very 
' cold, and the air moist. 

* Italy,' says Varro, 3 ' is the most temperate climate in 
Europe. The inland parts' (Gaul, Germany, and Pan- 
nonia, no doubt) ' have almost perpetual winter.' 

The northern parts of Spain, according to Strabo, 4 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 still much more severely felt, 
both in North and South America, than in places under the 
same latitude in Europe. 

Saserna, quoted by Columella, 6 affirmed that the dispo- 
sition 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 plantations, which formerly, by reason of the rigour 

1 Trist. lib. iii. eleg. 10. De Ponto, of the first discovery and conquest of 

lib. iv. eleg. 7, 9, 10. these countries, they appear to have 

Lib. iv. cap. 21. been very healthful; being then well 
1 Lib. i. cap. 2. peopled and cultivated. No account of 

Lib. iii. 137. the sickness or decay of Cortks's or 

The warm southern colonies also Pizarro's small armies, 
become more healthful : And it is re- 6 Lib. i. cap. 1. 
markabh-, that in the Spanish histories 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 435 

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 peopling of countries before the age of 
Saserna ; ! and if it be continued 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 scene 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. iEGYPT is represented by Maillet, 
to whom we owe the best account of it, as extremely popu- 
lous ; 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, to be desart in compa- 
rison of their ancient condition. The depopulation of 
Greece is also obvious. But whether the country now 
called Turkey in Europe may not, in general, contain more 
inhabitants than during the flourishing period of Greece, 
may be a little doubtful. The Thracians seem then to 
have lived like the Tartars at present, by pasturage and 
plunder : 2 The Getes were still more uncivilized : 3 And the 
Illyrians were no better. 4 These occupy nine-tenths ol 
that country : And though the government of the Turks be 
not very favourable to industry and propagation ; yet it pre- 
serves 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 
Scythia ; where no husbandry or tillage was ever heard of, 
and pasturage was the sole art by which the people were 
maintained. The like observation may be extended to 
Denmark and Sweden. No one ought to esteem the im- 
mense swarms of people, which formerly came from the 
North, and over-ran all Europe, to be any objection to this 
opinion. Where a whole nation, or even half of it remove 
their seat, it is easy to imagine, what a prodigious multitude 
they must form; with what desperate valour they must 

1 He seems to have lived about the iv. cap. 45. 

time of the younger Africantts ; lib. i. s Ovid, passim, $c. Strabo, lib. vii. 

cap. 1. 4 Polyb. lib. ii. cap. 12. 

2 Xenofh. Exp. lib. vii. Polyb. lib. 

f f 2 



436 ESSAY XI. 

make their attacks ; and how the terror they strike into the 
invaded nations will make these magnify, in their imagina- 
tion, both the courage and multitude of the invaders. Scot- 
land 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 Teutons 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 inha- 
bitants than in ancient times, when they cultivated no 
ground, and each tribe valued itself on the extensive desola- 
tion which it spread around ; as we learn from Caesar, 1 and 
Tacitus,' 2 and Strabo. 3 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 
conjectured, both from their barbarity, and from a circum- 
stance mentioned by Herodian, 4 that all Britain was 
marshy, even in Severus's time, after the Eomans 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 
education in the mysteries of the religion and philosophy of 
the Druids. 5 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 testi- 
mony of Appian, and that of Diodorus Siculus, we must 
admit of an incredible populousness in Gaul. The former 
historian 6 says, that there were 400 nations in that country; 
the latter 7 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 populous at present, though supposed to 
contain little more than twenty. 8 Such calculations, there- 

1 De, Bello Gallico, lib. vi. 23. were not much more improved than the 

2 Be Moribus Germ. Germans. 

8 Lib. vii. Celt, pars 1. lib. iv. 2. 

4 Lib. iii. cap. 47. 7 Lib. v. 25. 

5 CiBSAR de Bello Gallico, lib. vi. 13. " Ancient Gaui. was moro extensive 
Sikaho, lib. vii. 200 says, the Gauls than modern France, 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 487 

fore, by their extravagance, lose all manner of authority. 
We may observe, that the equality of property, to which the 
populousness of antiquity may be ascribed, had no place 
among the Gauls. 1 Their intestine wars also, before 
Caesar's time, were almost perpetual. 2 And Strabo 3 
observes, that, though all Gaul was cultivated, yet 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. 

Caesar 4 enumerates very particularly the great forces 
which were levied in Belgium to oppose his conquest, and 
makes them amount to 208,000. These were not the whole 
people able to bear arms : For the same historian tells us, 
that the Bellovaci could have brought a hundred thousand 
men into the field, though they engaged only for sixty. 
Taking the whole, therefore, in this proportion of ten to six, 
B the sum of fighting men in all the states of Belgium was 
about 350,000; all the inhabitants a million and a half. And 
Belgium being about a fourth of Gaul, that country might 
contain six millions, which is not 6 near the third of its 
present inhabitants. 7 8 We are informed by CLesar, that the 
Gauls had no fixed property in land ; but that the chief- 
tains, 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 
prevailed in Ireland, and which retained that country in 
a state of misery, barbarism and desolation. 

1 Cesar de Bello Gallico, lib. vi. 13. day: And a nobleman of Gaul had 

2 Id. ibid. 15. sometimes ten thousand dependants of 
8 Lib. iv. 178. this kind. Nor can we doubt, that the 

4 De Betto Gallico, lib. ii. 4. armies were composed of the people as 

5 [Editions H and I read as follows : well as of the nobility : An army of 
The sum of fighting men in all the 100,000 noblemen from a very small 
States of Belgium was above half a state is incredible. The fighting men 
million ; the whole inhabitants two amongst the Helvetii were- the fourth 
millions. And Belgium being about part of the whole inhabitants ; a clear 
the fourth of Gaul, that country might proof that all the males of military age 
contain eight millions, which is scarce bore arms. See Cesar de bello Gall. 
above the third of its present inhabi- lib. 1. 

tants.] We may remark, that the numbers 

6 [' Near ' was added in Edition K.] in Cesar's commentaries, can be more 

7 It appears from Cesar's account, depended on than those of any other 
that the Gauls had no domestic slaves, 1 antient author, because of the Greek 
(who formed a different order from the translation, which still remains, and 
Plebes.) The whole common people were which checks the Latin original, 
indeed a kind of slaves to the nobility, 8 [The remainder of the paragraph 
as the people of Poland are at this was added in Edition N ] 

1 [' who Plebes ' not in Editions H and I.} 



438 ESSAY XI. 

The ancient Helvetia was 250 miles in length, and 180 
in breadth, according to the same author ; * yet contained 
only 360,000 inhabitants. The canton of Berne alone has, 
at present, 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 cen- 
turies ago; but if we step backward two thousand years, 
and consider the restless, turbulent, unsettled condition of 
its inhabitants, we may probably be inclined to think that it 
is now much more populous. Many Spaniards killed them- 
selves, when deprived of their arms by the Romans. 2 It 
appears from Plutarch 3 , that robbery and plunder were 
. esteemed honourable among the Spaniards. Hirtius 4 
represents in the same light the situation of that country in 
Caesar's time ; and he says, that every man was obliged to 
live in castles and walled towns for his security. It was not 
till its final conquest under Augustus, that these disorders 
were repressed. 5 The account which Strabo 6 and Justin 7 
give of Spain, corresponds exactly with those above men- 
tioned. How much, therefore, must it diminish from our 
idea of the populousness of antiquity, when we find that 
Tully, comparing Italy, Afric, Gaul, Greece, and Spain, 
mentions the great number of inhabitants, as the peculiar 
circumstance, which rendered this latter country formidable ? 8 

Italy, however, it is probable, has decayed : But how 
many great cities does it still contain ? Venice, Genoa, 
Pa via, Turin, Milan, Naples, Florence, Leghorn, which 
either subsisted not in ancient times, or were then very 
inconsiderable 9 If we reflect on this, we shall not be apt 
to carry matters to so great an extreme as is usual, with 
regard to this subject. 

When the Roman authors complain, that Italy, which 

1 Be Bello Gallico, lib. i. 2. gentis, ac teroe domestico nativoque 

Titi Livii, lib. xxxiv. cap. 17. Bensu, Italos ipsos ac Latinos super- 

In vita Marii. 6. avimus.' Be harusp. resp. cap. 9. The 
4 Be Bello Hup. 8. disorders of Spain seem to have been 

Veil. Paterc. lib. ii. 90. almost proverbial : ' Nee impacatos a 

Lib. iii. tergo horrebis Iberos.' Virg. Georq. 
7 Lib. xliv. lib. iii. 408. The Ibbri are here plainly 

* Nee numero Hispanos, nee robore taken, by a poetical figure, for robbers 
Gallos, nee calliditate Poenos, nee arti- in general. 

bus Grfecos, nee denique hoc ipso hujus 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 



439 



formerly exported corn, became dependent on all the pro- 
vinces for its daily bread, they never ascribe this alteration 
to the encrease of its inhabitants, but to the neglect of tillage 
and agriculture. 1 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. 2 The sportula, so much talked 
of by Martial and Juvenal, being presents regularly made 
by the great lords to their smaller clients, must have had a 
like tendency to produce idleness, debauchery, and a conti- 
nual decay among the people. The parish-rates have at 
present the same bad consequences in England. 

Were I to assign a period, when I imagine this part of the 
world might possibly contain more inhabitants than at pre- 
sent, I should pitch upon the age of Trajan and the Anto- 
nines ; the great extent of the Soman empire being then 
civilized and cultivated, settled almost in a profound peace 
both foreign and domestic, and living under the same regular 
police and government. 3 But we are told that all extensive 
governments, especially absolute monarchies, are pernicious 
to population, and contain a secret vice and poison, which 



1 Vareo de re rustica, lib. ii. praef. 
Columella praef. Stteton. August. 
cap. 42. 

2 Though the observations 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 cul- 
tivated. If the other countries of 
Europe were more savage and woody, 
the cold winds that blew from them, 
might affect the climate of Italy. 

8 The inhabitants of Marseilles 
lost not their superiority over the 
Gauls in commerce and the mechanic 
arts, till the Roman dominion turned 
the latter from arms to agriculture and 
civil life. See Strabo, lib. iv. 180-1. 
That author, in several places, repeats 
the observation concerning the improve- 
ment arising from the Koman arts and 
civility : And he lived at the time when 
the change was new, and would be 
more sensible. So also Pliny : ' Quis 
enim non, communicato orbe terrarum, 
maj estate Romani imperii, profecisse 
vitam putet, commercio rerum ac socie- 
tate festae pacis, omniaque etiam, quae 
occulta antea fuerant, in promiscuo 
usu facta. Lib. xiv. procem. Nomine 



deum electa (speaking of Italy) quae 
ccelum ipsum clarius faceret, sparsa 
congregaret imperia, ritusque molliret, 
& tot populorum discordes, ferasque 
linguas sermonis commercio contrahe- 
ret ad colloquia, & humanitatem homini 
daret ; breviterque, una cunctarum gen- 
tium in toto orbe patria fieret ; ' lib. ii. 
cap. 5. Nothing can be stronger to this 
purpose than the following passage 
from Tertullian, who lived about the 
age of Severus. 'Certe quidem ipse 
orbis in promptu est, cultior de die & 
instructor pristino. Omnia jam pervia, 
omnia nota, omnia negotiosa, Solitu- 
dines famosas retro fundi ameenissimi 
obliteraverunt, silvas arva domuerunt, 
feras pecora fugaverunt ; arenae serun- 
tur, saxa panguntur, paludes eliquantur, 
tantae urbes, quantae non casae quondam. 
Jam nee insula horrent, nee scopuli 
terrent ; ubique domus, ubique populus, 
ubique respublica, ubique vita. Sum- 
mum testimonium frequentiae humanae, 
onerosi sumus mundo, vix nobis ele- 
ments sufficiunt ; & necessitates arc- 
tiores, et querelse apud omnes, dum jam 
nos natura non sustinet.' De anima, 
cap. 30. The air of rhetoric and de- 
clamation which appears in this passage, 



440 



ESSAY XL 



destroy the effect of all these promising appearances. 1 To 
confirm this, there is a passage cited from Plutarch, 2 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 desolation of the world, proceeding from former wars 
and factions ; 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 thou- 
sand 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, 



diminishes somewhat from its authority, 
but does not entirely destroy it. 1 The 
same remark may be extended to the 
following passage of Aristides the 
sophist, who lived in the age of Adrian. 
' The whole world,' says he, addressing 
himself to the Romans, ' seems to keep 
one holiday ; and mankind, laying aside 
the sword which they formerly wore, 
now betake themselves to feasting and 
to joy The cities, forgetting their 
ancient animosities, preserve only one 
emulation, which shall embellish itself 
most by every art and ornament; 
Theatres every where arise, amphithea- 
tres, porticoes, aqueducts, temples, 
schools, academies ; and one may safely 
pronounce, that the sinking world has 
been again raised by your auspicious 
empire. Nor have cities alone received 
an encrease of ornament and beauty; 
but the whole earth, like a garden or 
paradise, is cultivated and adorned : 
Insomuch, that such of mankind as are 
placed out of the limits of your empire 
(who are but few) seem to merit our 
sympathy and compassion.' 

It is remarkable, that though Dio- 
poitus Siculus makes the inhabitants 
of JEuyvt, when conquered by the 
Romans, amount only to three millions ; 
yet Joskph. de hello Jud. lib. ii. cap. 16. 



says, that its inhabitants, excluding 
those of Aiexandria, were seven mil- 
lions and a half, in the reign of Nero : 
And he expressly says, that he drew this 
account from the books of the Roman 
publicans, who levied the poll-tax, 
Strabo, lib. xvii. 797, praises the su- 
perior police of the Romans with regard 
to the finances of JEgypt, above that of 
its former monarchs : And no part of 
administration is more essential to the 
happiness of a people. Yet we read 
in Athenjeus. (lib. i. cap. 25.) who 
flourished during the reign of the 
Antonines, that the town Mareia, near 
Alexandria, which was formerly a large 
city, had dwindled into a village. This 
is not, properly speaking, a contradic- 
tion. Suidas (August.) says, th.it bh 
Emperor Augustus, having numbered 
the whole Roman empire, found it 
contained only 4,101,017 men (&v$pe;). 
There is hero surely some great mis- 
take, either in the author or tran- 
scriber. But this authority, feeble as 
it is, may be sufficient to counterbalance 
the exaggerated accounts of Herodotus 
and Diodorus Siculus with regard to 
more early times. 

1 LEsprit de Loix, liv. xxiii. chap. 
19. 

2 De Orac. Defectu. 



1 [Editions H and I add : A man of 
violent imagination, such asTERTULLiAN, 
augments everything equally, and for 



that reason his comparative judgments 
are the most to be depended on.] 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 441 

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, there- 
fore, is directly contrary to the inference, which is drawn from 
the fact he advances. 

Poltbius supposes, that Greece had become more pros- 
perous and flourishing after the establishment of the Roman 
yoke 1 ; and though that historian wrote before these con- 
querors had degenerated, from being the patrons, to be the 
plunderers of mankind ; yet, as we find from Tacitus, 2 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 Strabo, 3 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. 4 How therefore can we 
imagine, that the Roman yoke was so burdensome over that 
part of the world ? The oppression of the proconsuls was 
checked ; and the magistracies in Greece being all bestowed, 
in the several cities, by the free votes of the people, there was 
no necessity for the competitors 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 advan- 
tages ? 

Besides, this passage, by proving too much, really proves 
nothing. Only three thousand men able to bear arms in all 
Greece ! Who can admit so strange a proposition, espe- 

1 Lib. ii. cap. 62. It may perhaps if there be any suspicion of an author's 

be imagined, that Polybitts, being de- insincerity, that these oblique proposi- 

pendent on Eomb, would naturally extol tions discover his real opinion better 

the Eoman dominion. But, in the first than his more formal and direct asser- 

place, Polybips, though one sees some- tions. 

times instances of his caution, discovers 2 Annal. lib. i. cap. 2. 

no symptoms of flattery. Secondly, This 3 Lib. viii. and ix. 

opinion is only delivered in a single 4 PruTARCH. De his qtd sero a Numine 

stroke, by the by, while he is intent puniuntur. 
upon another subject; and it is allowed, 



442 ESSAY XI. 

cially 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 tolerably 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. 1 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 en- 
.tirely useless, was extremely neglected in Greece after the 
establishment of the Eoman empire ; and if these common- 
wealths, formerly so warlike and ambitious, maintained each 
of them a small city-guard, to prevent mobbish disorders, it 
is all they had occasion for : And these, perhaps, did not 
amount to 3,000 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 nature ? 2 

1 Be mercede conductis. been found in most of his other com- 

2 I must confess that that discourse positions. 

of Plutarch, concerning the silence of There is only one other discourse of 
the oracles, is in general of so odd a Plutarch liable to like objections, viz. 
texture, and so unlike his other produc- that concerning those whose punishment 
tions, that one is at a loss what judg- is delayed by the Deity. It is also 
ment to form of it. 'Tis wrote in wrote in dialogue, contains like super- 
dialogue, which is a method of composi- stitious, wild visions, and seems to have 
tion that Plutarch commonly little been chiefly composed in rivalship to 
affects. The personages he introduces Plato, particularly his last book de 
advance very wild, absurd, and contra- republica. 

dictory opinions, more like the visionary And here I cannot but observe, that 

systems or ravings of Plato than the Mons. Fontenklle, a writer eminent 

solid sense of Plutarch. There runs for candor, seems to have deputed a 

also thro' the whole an air of supersti- little from his usual character, when he 

tion and credulity, which resembles endeavours to throw a ridicule upon 

very little the spirit that appears in Plutarch on account of passages to be 

other philosophical compositions of that met with in this dialogue concerning 

author. For 'tis remarkable, that tho' oracles. The absurdities here put into 

Plutarch be an historian as supersti- the mouths of the several personages 

tious as Hkrodotus or Livt, yet there are not to be ascribed to Plutarch. 

is scarcely, in all antiquity, a philo- He makes them refute each other ; and, 

sopher less superstitious, excepting in general, he seems to intend the 

CuF.im and Lucian. I must therefore ridiculing of those very opinions, which 

confess, that a passage of Plutarch, Fontknku.k would ridicule him tor 

cited from this discourse, has much maintaining. See Butofre des oracles. 
leas authority with me, than if it had 



POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 443 

But whatever force may remain in this passage of Plu- 
tarch, we shall endeavour to counterbalance it by as remark- 
able a passage in Diodortjs Siculus, where the historian, 
after mentioning Ninus's army of 1,700,000 foot and 200,000 
horse, endeavours to support the credibility of this account 
by some posterior facts ; and adds, that we must not form a 
notion of the ancient populousness of mankind from the 
present emptiness and depopulation which is spread over 
the world. 1 Thus an author, who lived at that very period of 
antiquity which is represented as most populous, 2 complains 
of the desolation which then prevailed, gives the preference 
to former times, and has recourse to ancient fables as a foun- / 
dation 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 pro- 
foundest judgment and most extensive learning. 3 

Essay XII. Of the Original Contract. 

As no party, in the present age, can well support itself, 
without a philosophical or speculative system of principles, 
annexed 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 pro- 
tect and cover that scheme of actions, which it pursues. The 
people being commonly 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 unshapely, and discover evident marks of 
that violence and hurry, in which it was 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, 
vo'untarily entrusted him. These are the speculative prin- 

1 Lib. ii. 5. these two volumes have been verified ; 

2 He was cotemporary with Caesar and in very many cases the page, chap- 
and Augustus. ter, or line has been added. En.] 

3 [Most of the references throughout 



444 ESSAY XII. 

ciples of the two parties ; and these too are the practical 
consequences 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 consequences 
are prudent ; though not in the extremes, to which each party, 
in opposition to the other, has commonly endeavoured 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 im- 
possible for the human race to subsist, at least in any com- 
fortable or secure state, without the protection of government; 
this institution 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 intended 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 interposi- 
tion, but by his concealed and universal efficacy ; a sovereign 
cannot, properly speaking, be called his vice-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 in- 
tention of providence ; nor has the greatest and most lawful 
prince any more reason, upon that account, to plead a pecu- 
liar sacredness or inviolable authority, than an inferior 
magistrate, or even an usurper, or even a robber and a pyrate. 
The same divine superintendant, who, for wise purposes, in- 
vested 'a Tittts 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, established 
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 cultivated by education ; we must necessarily allow, that 

1 [An Elizabeth or a Henry the 4th of France : Editions D to P.] 



OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 445 

nothing 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 com- 
panion. 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 liberties 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, x 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 autho- 
rity, the effect of established government. A man's natural 
force consists only in the vigour of his limbs, and the firm- 
ness of his courage; which could never subject multitudes 
to the command of one. Nothing but their own consent, 
and their sense of the advantages resulting from peace and 
order, could have had that influence. 

2 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 con- 
tinuance of war, ruled more by persuasion than command ; 
and till he could employ force to reduce the refractory and 
disobedient, the society could scarcely be said to have attained 
a state of civil government. No compact or agreement, it is 
evident, was expressly formed for general submission ; an 
idea far beyond the comprehension of savages : Each exer- 
tion of authority in the chieftain must have been particular, 
and called forth by the present exigencies of the case : The 
sensible utility, resulting from his interposition, made these 
exertions become daily more frequent ; and their frequency 

1 [Or-^equality : added in Editions 2 [This paragraph was added iu Ed- 

Q.] tion R.] 



446 ESSAY XII. 

gradually produced an habitual, and, if you please to call it 
so, a voluntary, and therefore precarious, acquiescence in the 
people. 

But philosophers, who have embraced a party (if that be 
not a contradiction in terms) are not contented with these 
concessions. 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 ha3 attained 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 equivalent, would forego the advantages of his 
native liberty, and subject himself to the will of another ; 
this promise is always understood to be conditional, and im- 
poses 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 obligations to allegiance. 
Such, according to these philosophers, is the foundation of 
authority in every government ; and such the right of resist- 
ance, 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 inde- 
pendent 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 obedience to a certain sovereign, as much as 
under the ties of reverence and duty to certain parents. 
These connexions are always conceived to be equally inde- 
pendent 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 incul- 
cated. Obedience or subjection becomes so familiar, that 
most men never make any enquiry about its origin or cause, 
more than about the principle of gravity, resistance, or the 
most universal laws of nature. Or if curiosity ever move 
them ; as soon as they learn, that they themselves and their 



OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 447 

ancestors have, for several ages, or from time immemorial, 
been subject to such a form of government or such a family ; 
they immediately acquiesce, and acknowledge their obliga- 
tion 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 
unknown 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 
to 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 
conjoined their force, be here meant, this is acknowledged 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 say any 
thing to the purpose, 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 besides that this supposes the 
consent of the fathers to bind the children, 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, with- 
out 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 
employing, 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 or force. He gives them no leisure to assemble 
together in a body to oppose him. Even all those, who are 



448 ESSAY XII. 

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 
original contract, which they have to boast of. 

The face of the earth is continually changing, by the en- 
crease of small kingdoms into great empires, by the dissolution 
of great empires into smaller kingdoms, by the planting of 
colonies, by the migration of tribes. Is there any thing 
discoverable in all these events, but force and violence? 
Where is the mutual agreement or voluntary association so 
much talked of? 

Even the smoothest way, by which a nation may receive 
a foreign master, by marriage or a will, is not extremely 
honourable for the people; but supposes them to be disposed 
of, like a dowry or a legacy, according to the pleasure or 
interest of their rulers. 

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 multi- 
tude, that follow a seditious ringleader, who is not known, 
perhaps, to a dozen among them, and who owes his advance- 
ment merely to his own impudence, 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 
government and allegiance ? 

In reality, there is not a more terrible event, than a total 
dissolution of government, which gives liberty to the mul- 
titude, 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 
government, as to imagine all others monstrous and irre- 



OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 449 

gular. Even that event was far from corresponding to these 
refined ideas. It was only the succession, and that only in 
the regal part of the government, which was then changed : 
And it was only the majority of seven hundred, who deter- 
mined that change for near ten millions. I doubt not, 
indeed, but the bulk of those ten millions acquiesced 
willingly in the determination : But was the matter left, in 
the least, to their choice ? Was it not justly supposed to be, 
from that moment, decided, and every man punished, who 
refused to submit to the new sovereign? How otherwise 
could the matter have ever been brought to any issue or 
conclusion ? 

The republic of Athens was, I believe, the most extensive 
democracy, that we read of in history : Yet if we make the 
requisite 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 
who 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 as 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 prove, where they form not the established constitution, 
but meet tumultuously on the dissolution 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 P 

1 The Ach^eans enjoyed the freest and most perfect demo- 
cracy of all antiquity ; yet they employed force to oblige 
some cities to enter into their league, as we learn from 
Polybius. 2 

Harry the iVth and Harry the Vllth of England, had 
really no title to the throne but a parliamentary election; 
yet they never would acknowledge it, lest they should thereby 
weaken 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 neces- 
sity of human affairs will admit. This favours entirely my 

1 [The two following paragraphs were 2 Lib. ii. cap. 38. 

added in Edition K.] 

VOL. III. G G 



450 ESSAY XIT. 

pretension. I maintain, that human affairs will never admit 
of this consent ; seldom of the appearance of it. But that 
conquest or usurpation, that is, in plain terms, force, by 
dissolving the ancient governments, is the origin of almost 
all the new ones, which were ever established in the world. 
And that in the few cases, where consent may seem to have 
taken place, it was commonly so irregular, so confined, or so 
much intermixed either with fraud or violence, that it cannot 
have any great authority. 

1 My intention here is not to exclude the consent of the people 
from being one just foundation of government where it has 
place. It is surely the best and most sacred of any. I 
only pretend, that it has very seldom had place in any degree, 
and never almost in its full extent. And that therefore 
some other foundation 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 
properties 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 justly deemed incapable. Again ; were 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 member of the society : But 
this state of perfection is likewise much superior to human 
nature. Reason, history, and experience shew us, that all 
political societies have had an origin much lest accurate 
and regular; and were one to choose a period 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 whatever 
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 
and jealous, and must carefully guard against every begin- 
ning or appearance of insurrection. Time, by degrees, 

1 [This paragraph and the next were added in Edition K.] 



OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 451 

removes all these difficulties, and accustoms the nation to 
regard, as their lawful or native princes, that family, which, 
at first, they considered as usurpers or foreign conquerors. 
In order to found this opinion, they have no recourse to any 
notion of voluntary consent 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 subsequent administration is also 
supported by power, and acquiesced 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 govern- 
ment; 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 
language or manners, and lives ffom day to day, by the 
small wages which he acquires ? We may as well assert, that 
a man, by remaining 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 domi- 
nions ; as in Tiberius's time, it was regarded as a crime in a 
Roman knight that he had attempted to fly to the Parthians, 
in order to escape the tyranny of that emperor ? l 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 doubtless, with great reason and justice, restrain 
them, in order to prevent the depopulation of his own king- 
dom. Would he forfeit the allegiance of all his subjects, by 

1 Tacit. Ann. vi. cap. 14. 

G Q 2 



452 ESSAY XIL 

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 
recovering their native freedom ; but they would soon find, 
that their prince still laid claim to them, and called them 
his subjects, 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 
acquainted 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 rene- 
gade, when he seizes him in war with his new prince's 
commission ; this clemency is not founded on the municipal 
law, which in all countries condemns the prisoner ; but on the 
consent of princes, who have agreed to this indulgence, in 
order to prevent reprisals. 

1 Did one generation of men go off the stage at once, and 
another succeed, as is the case with silk-worms and butter- 
flies, the new race, if they had sense enough to choose their 
government, which surely is never the case with men, might 
voluntarily, and by general consent, establish their own form 
of civil polity, without any regard to the laws or precedents, 
which prevailed among their ancestors. But as human society 
is in perpetual flux, one man every hour going out of the 
world, another coming into it, it is necessary, in order to pre- 
serve stability in government, that the new brood should con- 
form themselves 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 gives 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 hist < -ry 
affords examples to the contrary, they are not to be drawn into 
precedent, and are only to be regarded as proofs, Ilia I ilic 
science of politics affords few rules, which will not admit of 

1 [This paragraph was added in Edition R] 



OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 453 

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 authority : 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 garrisons, that no insurrection had ever been raised, 
or even murmur heard, against his administration : Can it be 
asserted, that the people, who in their hearts abhor his 
treason, have tacitly consented to his authority, and pro- 
mised him allegiance, merely because, from necessity, they 
live under his dominion ? Suppose again their native prince 
restored, by means of an army, which 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 authority, they 
never imagine, that their consent made him sovereign. They 
consent ; because they apprehend him to be already, 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 Eoman dominions became too unwieldly for 
the republic to govern them, the people, over the whole known 
world, were extremely grateful to Augustus for that authoritv, 
which, by violence, he had established over them ; and they 
showed an equal disposition to submit to the successor, whom 
he left them, by his last will and testament. It was after- 



454 ESSAY XII. 

wards their misfortune, that there never was, in one family, 
any long regular succession ; but that their line of princes 
was continually broken, either by private assassinations or 
public rebellions. The prcetorian 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 blameable, because 
they were inevitable. 

. The house of Lancaster ruled in this island about sixty 
years ; l yet the partizans of the white rose seemed daily to 
multiply 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 expelled, or could have consented to its dominion, or 
have promised it allegiance ? A sufficient indication surely 
of the general sentiment of mankind on this head. For we 
blame not the partizans 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, which, we affirm, has been justly expelled, and which, 
from the moment the new settlement took place, had for- 
feited all title to authority. 

But would we have a more regular, at least a more philo- 
sophical, refutation of this principle of an original contract 
or popular 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 
private 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 approba- 
1 [The latter half of this sentence was pdded in Edition K.] 



OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 455 

tion and esteem : But the person, actuated by them, feels 
their power and influence, antecedent to any such reflection. 

The second kind of moral duties are such as are not sup- 
ported 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 sup- 
porting it, if these duties were neglected. It is thus justice 
or a regard to the property of others, fidelity or the obser- 
vance of promises, become obligatory, and acquire an autho- 
rity over mankind. Tor as it is evident, that every man loves 
himself better than any other person, he is naturally impelled 
to extend his acquisitions as much as possible ; and nothing 
can restrain him in this propensity, but reflection and experi- 
ence, 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 instinct, is here checked 
and restrained by a subsequent judgment 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 unlimited freedom, or to seek dominion over 
others : And it is reflection 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 cannot possibly be maintained with- 
out the authority of magistrates, and that this authority 
must soon fall into contempt, where exact obedience is not 
paid to it. The observation of these general 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 
allegiance or obedience to magistrates on that of fidelity or a 
regard to promises, and to suppose, that it is the consent of 
each individual, which subjects him to government ; when 
it appears, that both allegiance and fidelity stand precisely 
on the same foundation, and are both submitted to by man- 
kind, 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 observe our promise P It must 
here be asserted, that the commerce and intercourse of 
mankind, which are of such mighty advantage, can have no 



456 ESSAY XII. 

security where men pay no regard to their engagements. Tn 
like manner, may it be said, that men could not live at all 
in society, at least in a civilized society, without laws a?i<l 
magistrates and judges, to prevent the encroachments of the 
strong upon the weak, of the violent upon the just and 
equitable. The obligation to allegiance being of like force 
and authority 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 in- 
telligible to all mankind. Your answer is, because we should 
keep our word. But besides, that no body, till trained in a 
philosophical system, can either comprehend or relish this 
answer : Besides this, I say, you find yourself embarrassed, 
when it is asked, why we are bound to keep our word ? Nor 
can you give any answer, 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 
sovereign ? This question is often the most difficult of any, 
and liable to infinite discussions. When people are so happy, 
that they can answer, Our present sovereign, who inherits, in a 
direct line, from ancestors, that have governed us for many ages ; 
this answer admits of no reply ; even though historians, in 
tracing up to the remotest antiquity, the origin of that royal 
family, may find, as commonly happens, that its first autho- 
rity was derived from usurpation and violence. It is con- 
fessed, 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, when 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 accu- 
rate enquiry : And there is no virtue or moral duty, but what 
may, with facility, be refined away, if we indulge a false 
philosophy, in sifting and scrutinizing it, by every captious 
rule of logic, in every light or position, in which it may be 
placed. 

The questions with regard to private property have filled 



OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 457 

infinite volumes of law and philosophy, if in both we add 
the commentators to the original text ; and in the end, we 
may safely pronounce, that many of the rules, there estab- 
lished, are uncertain, ambiguous, and arbitrary. The like 
opinion may be formed with regard to the succession and 
rights of princes and forms of government. 1 Several cases, 
no doubt, occur, especially in the infancy of any constitution, 
which admit of no determination from the laws of justice 
and equity : And our historian Bapin 2 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 violence. 

Who shall tell me, whether Germanicus or Drusus 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 P 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? 
>ught the^ right of the elder to be regarded in a nation, 
where he had no advantage in the succession of private 
families? Ought the Soman 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 
usurpation ? 

Commodus mounted the throne after a pretty long suc- 
cession of excellent emperors, who had acquired their title, 
not by birth, or public election, but by the fictitious rite of 
adoption. That bloody debauchee being murdered by a con- 
spiracy suddenly formed between his wench and her gallant, 
who happened at that time to be Prcetorian Prcefect ; these 
immediately deliberated about choosing a master to human 
kind, to speak in the style of those ages ; and they cast their 

1 [Edition D omits from this sentence which is clue to the established Groveru- 
down to ' monarchies ' on page 459 : and ment, in every Kingdom and Common- 
substitutes as follows The Discussion wealth. "When there is no legal Prince, 
of these Matters would lead us entirely who has a Title to a Throne, I believe 
beyond the Compass of these Essays. it nay safely be determined to belong to 
'Tis sufficient for our present Purpose, if the first Occupier. This was frequently 
we have been able to determine, in gene- the Case with the Roman Empire, j 
ral, the Foundation of that Allegiance, Allows : Editions K to P.] 



458 ESSAY XII. 

eyes on Peetinax. Before the tyrant's death was known, 
the Prcefect went secretly to that senator, who, on the ap- 
pearance of the soldiers, imagined that his execution had 
been ordered by Commodus. He was immediately saluted 
emperor by the officer and his attendants ; chearfully pro- 
claimed by the populace ; unwillingly submitted to by the 
guards ; formally recognized by the senate ; and passively 
received by the provinces and armies of the empire. 

The discontent of the Praetorian bands broke out in a sud- 
den sedition, which occasioned the murder of that excellent 
prince : And the world being now without a master and 
without government, the guards thought proper to set the 
empire formally to sale. Julian, the purchaser, was pro- 
claimed by the soldiers, recognized by the senate, and sub- 
mitted to by the people ; and must also have been submitted 
to by the provinces, had not the envy of the legions begotten 
opposition and resistance. Pescennius 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 Eome. 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 acknow- 
ledged emperor by the senate and people ; and fully established 
in his violent authority by subduing Niger and Albinus. 1 

Inter hcec Gordianus (Lesar (says Capitolinus, speaking of 
another period) sublatus a militibus, Imperator est appellatus, 
quia non erat alius in prcesenti, It is to be remarked, that 
Gordian 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 anything be more unhappy 
than a despotic government of this kind ; where the succes- 
sion is disjoined and irregular, and must be determined, on 
every vacancy, by force or election. In a free government, 
the matter is often unavoidable, and is also much less dan- 
1 Hjbbodian, lib. ii. 



OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 459 

gerous. The interests of liberty may there frequently lead 
the people, in their own defence, to alter the succession of 
the crown. And the constitution, being compounded of 
parts, may still maintain a sufficient stability, by resting on 
the aristocratical or democratical 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 legal prince, 
who has a title to the throne, it may safely be determined to 
belong to the first occupant. Instances of this kind are but 
too frequent, especially in the eastern monarchies. l When 
any race of princes expires, the will or destination of the last 
sovereign will be regarded as a title. Thus the edict of 
Lewis the XlVth, 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. 2 3 Thus the 
will of Charles the Second disposed of the whole Spanish 
monarchy. The cession of the ancient proprietor, especially 
when joined to conquest, 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 parti- 
cular prince or form of government is frequently more 
uncertain and dubious. Present possession has considerable 
authority in these cases, and greater than in private pro- 
perty ; because of the disorders which attend all revolutions 
and changes of government. 4 

1 [In Edition D the remainder of this the same arts, which have ever been 
paragraph is given in continuation of the employed by all conquerors and usurpers, 
following note.] He got his title, indeed, recognized by 

2 It is remarkable, that, in the re- the states after he had put himself in 
monstrance of the duke of Bourbon and possession: But is this a choice or a 
the legitimate princes, against this des- contract ? The Comte de Botjlain- 
tination of L,ouis the XlVth, the doc- viixiers, we may observe, was a noted 
trine of the original contract is insisted republican ; but being a man of learn- 
on, even in that absolute government. ing, and very conversant in history, he 
The French nation, say they, chusing knew that the people were never almost 
Hugh Capet and his posterity to rule consulted in these revolutions and new 
over them and their posterity, where establishments, and that time alone be- 
theformer line fails, there is a tacit right stowed right and authority on what was 
reserved to choose a new royal family ; commonly at first founded on force and 
and this right is invaded by calling the violence. See Etat de la France, Vol. 
bastard princes to the throne, without III. 

the consent of the nation. But the s [This sentence was added in Edi- 

Comte de Boulainvilliers, who wrote tion M.] 

in defence of the bastard princes, ridi- 4 [Here Editions K to P subjoin in 

cules this notion of an original contract, a note what is now the concluding para,- 

especially when applied to Hugh Capet ; graph of the Essay.] 

who mounted the throne, says he, by 



4G0 ESSAY MIL 

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 parti zans, in prosecution of it, scrupled to 
affirm, that absolute monarchy is inconsistent with civil society, 
and so can be no form of civil government at all ; l and that the 
supreme power in a state cannot take from any man, by taxes and 
impositions, any part of his property, without his own consent 
or that of his representatives. 2 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. 3 

The only passage I meet with in antiquity, where the 
obligation of obedience to government is ascribed to a. pro- 
mise, is in Plato's Grito : 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. 

New discoveries are not to be expected in these matters. 
If scarce 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 
expressed by the terms vewTepl&iv, novas res moliri.. 



Essay XIII. Of Passive Obedience. 

In the former essay, we endeavoured to refute the specu- 
lative systems of politics advanced in this nation ; as well the 

1 SoeLocKK on Government, chap. vii. stop. Editions K to P give the two 
00. next paragraphs as a note ; they luw. 

2 Id. chap. xi. 138, 130, 140. already given the concluding une as a 
* [At this point editions D to P note on page 402.] 



OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 461 

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 
submission due to sovereigns. 

As the obligation to justice is founded entirely on the 
interests 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 pernicious consequences, that virtue must be 
suspended, and give place to public utility, in such extraor- 
dinary and such pressing emergencies. The maxim, fiat 
Justitia et mat Caelum, let justice be performed, though the 
universe be destroyed, is apparently false, and by sacrificing 
the end to the means, shews a preposterous idea of the 
subordination of duties. What governor of a town makes 
any scruple of burning the suburbs, when they facilitate the 
approaches of the enemy ? Or what general abstains from 
plundering a neutral country, when the necessities of war 
require it, and he cannot otherwise subsist his army ? The 
case is the same with the duty of allegiance ; and common 
sense teaches us, that, as government binds us to obedience 
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 
original obligation. Salus populi suprema Lex, the safety of 
the 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 l or Philip the 
Second, so infatuated with party-systems, as not to wish 
success to the enterprize, and praise the undertakers. Even 
our high monarchical 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. 

Eesistance, therefore, being admitted in extraordinary 
emergencies, 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 confess, 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 
1 [Or a Caracalla : Edition D; or a Philip : Editions K to P.] 



462 ESSAY XIII. 

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 em- 
braced, had every one been inclined to submission and 
obedience. Thus the tyrannicide or assassination, approved 
of by ancient maxims, instead of keeping tyrants and 
usurpers in awe, made them ten times more fierce and 
unrelenting ; 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 incul- 
cated; 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 justice may be dispensed with in 
cases of urgent necessity ; what should we think of a preacher 
or 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 displaying 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 
industry, 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 anta- 
gonists carrying the doctrine of obedience to such an extra- 
vagant height, as not only never to mention the exceptions 
in extraordinary cases (which might, perhaps, be excusable), 
but even positively to exclude 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, 



OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 463 

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 punishment 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 tame submis- 
sion, 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 
authority, to chastise the exorbitancies 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. 



4C4 ESSAY XIV. 



Essay XIY. Of the Coalition of Parties.* 

To abolish all distinctions of party may not be practicable, 
perhaps not desirable, in a free ^overnnient. The only dan- 
gerous 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 members of the constitution ; where there is 
no room for any compromise or accommodation, and where 
the controversy may appear so momentous as to justify even 
an opposition by arms to the pretensions of antagonists. Of 
this nature was the animosity, 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 continually endangered the peace and 
tranquillity of the nation. But as there have appeared of 
late the strongest symptoms of an universal desire to abolish 
these party distinctions ; this tendency to a coalition affords 
the most agreeable prospect of future happiness, and ought 
to be carefully cherished and promoted 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 per- 
suade 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 cal- 
culated for this purpose with regard to the philosophical 2 and 
practical controversies between 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 factions had DO 

1 [This Essay first appeared in Edi- 2 [And practical : added in Edition 

tion M.] E.] 



OF THE COALITION OF PARTIES. 466 

better foundation than narrow prejudice or interested pas- 
sion. 

The popular party, who afterwards acquired the name 
of whigs, might justify, by very specious arguments, that 
opposition to the crown, from which our present free con- 
stitution 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 authority. Such might have been their rea- 
soning : As the rights of mankind are for ever to be deemed 
sacred, no prescription of tyranny or arbitrary power can 
have authority sufficient to abolish them. Liberty is a bless- 
ing so inestimable, that, wherever there appears any pro- 
bability of recovering it, a nation may willingly run many 
hazards, and ought not even to repine at the greatest effu- 
sion of blood or dissipation of treasure. All human institu- 
tions, and none more than government, are in continual fluc- 
tuation. 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 privi- 
leges of the people, an universal despotism must for ever 
prevail amongst mankind. The example of all the neigh- 
bouring nations proves, that it is no longer safe to entrust 
with the crown the same high prerogatives, which had for- 
merly been exercised during the 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 stricter limitations imposed 
on the crown ; and those pretensions of the parliament, now 
branded with the title of innovations, are only a recovery of 
the just rights of the people. 

These views, far from being odious, are surely large, and 
generous, 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 distinguished among the society of nations, and 
aspires to a rivalship with that of the freest and most illus- 
trious 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 side, by which they could justify 

VOL. III. H E 



466 ESSAY XIV. 

their defence of the then established prerogatives of the 
prince. We shall state the question, as it might have ap- 
peared to them at the assembling of that parliament, which, 
by its violent encroachments on the crown, began 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 
conduct : They had still continued in the primitive, uncon- 
nected, state of nature, without submitting to political 
government, whose sole basis is, not pure reason, but au- 
thority and precedent. Dissolve these ties, you break all the 
bonds of civil society, and leave every man at liberty to con- 
sult his private interest, by those expedients, which his 
appetite, disguised under the appearance of reason, shall 
dictate to him. The spirit of innovation is in itself per- 
nicious, however favourable its particular object may some- 
times appear : A truth so obvious, that the popular party 
themselves are sensible of it ; and therefore cover their en- 
croachments on the crown by the plausible pretence of their 
recovering the ancient liberties of the people. 

But the present prerogatives of the crown, allowing all the 
suppositions of that party, have been incontestably estab- 
lished ever since the accession of the House of Tudor ; a 
period, which, as it now comprehends a hundred and sixty 
years, may be allowed sufficient to give stability to any con- 
stitution. Would it not have appeared ridiculous, in the 
reign of the Emperor Adrian, to have talked of the re- 
publican constitution as the rule of government ; or to have 
supposed, that the former rights of the senate, and consuls, 
and tribunes were still subsisting? 

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 usurpa- 
tion, grounded only on military violence, and forms such an 
epoch in the Roman history, as is obvious to every reader. 
But if Henry 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. 



OF THE COALITION OF PARTIES. 467 

The new government, if it deserve the epithet, is an imper- 
ceptible transition from the former ; is entirely engrafted on 
it ; derives its title fully from that root ; and is to be con- 
sidered only as one of those gradual revolutions, to which 
human affairs, in every nation, will be for ever subject. 

The House of Tudor, and after them that of Stuart, 
exercised no prerogatives, but what had been claimed and 
exercised by the Plantagenets. Not a single branch of 
their authority 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 op- 
position of their barons, to render them so steady a rule of 
administration. 1 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 ascendant. 

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 sub- 
jects equally to respect each others rights, privileges, and 
properties. If we must return to the ancient barbarous and 
2 feudal constitution ; 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 protection to themselves : 
together with the power of exercising rapine and oppression 
over their inferior slaves and villains. This was the con- 
dition 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 

1 [Editions M to Q append the note : are strong symptoms of arbitrary power 
The author believes that he was the first in some former reigns, even after sign- 
writer who advanced that the family ing of the charters. The power of the 
of Tudob possessed in general more crown in that age depended less on the 
authority than their immediate prede- constitution than on the capacity and 
cessors : An opinion, which, he hopes, vigour of the prince who wore it. 
will be supported by history, but which 2 [Gothic: Editions M to Q.] 
he proposes with some diffidence. There , 



468 ESSAY XIV. 

charta : 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 as- 
suming, by usurpation, the whole power of government, talk 
of reviving ancient institutions. Is it not known, that, 
though representatives received wages from their con- 
stituents ; to be a member of the lower house was always 
considered as a burden, and an exemption from it as a pri- 
vilege ? Will. they persuade us, that power, which, of all 
human acquisitions, is the most coveted, and in comparison 
of which even reputation and pleasure and riches are slighted, 
could ever be regarded as a burden by any man ? 

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 
encrease of their liberty and their security ? Let them there- 
fore acknowledge, that their ancestors, while the crown was 
restrained by the seditious barons, really enjoyed less liberty 
than they themselves have attained, after the sovereign ac- 
quired the ascendant : 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 
practice of the age. That has most authority, because it is 
recent : It is also best known, for the same reason. Who 
has assured those tribunes, that the Plantagenets 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 power or prerogative is fully and un- 
doubtedly established, the exercise 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 by Camden, 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, 
acknowledged 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, 



OF THE COALITION OF PARTIES. 469 

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 imagin'd. 

But the people must not pretend, because they can, by 
their consent, lay the foundations of government, that there- 
fore 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 govern- 
ment, and lying under the restraint 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 at- 
tended with the 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 mode- 
ration 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 in antagonists. 
The transition from a moderate opposition against an es- 



470 ESSAY XV. 

tablishment, 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 
settlement 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 tole- 
ration, and an encourager 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 antagonists. 
The plan of liberty is settled ; its happy effects are proved by 
experience ; a long tract of time has given it stability ; 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 re- 
proach 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 
constitution has now at last happily protected the people. 
These reflections 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. 

1 Essay XV. Of the Protestant Succession. 

I suppose, that a member of parliament, in the reign of King 
William or Queen Anne, while the establishment of the 
Protestant Succession was yet uncertain, were deliberating 

1 [For the history of the publication of this Essay, see p. 48.] 




OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 471 

concerning 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 would easily perceive the great advantage resulting 
from the restoration of the Stuart family ; by which we 
should preserve the succession clear and undisputed, free 
from a pretender, with such a specious title as that of blood, 
which, with the multitude, is always the claim, the strongest 
and most easily comprehended. It is in vain to say, as many 
have done, that the question with regard to governors, inde- 
pendent of government, is frivolous, and little worth disputing, 
much less fighting about. The generality of mankind never 
will enter into these sentiments ; 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 under- 
standing, or infirm in years, gave him so sensible a preference 
above persons the most accomplished in shining talents, or 
celebrated for great atchievements ? Would not every popular 
leader put in his claim at every vacancy, or even without any 
vacancy; and the kingdom become the theatre of perpetual 
wars and convulsions ? The condition of the Roman empire, 
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 
mankind. To be sure, an anatomist finds no more in the 
greatest monarch than in the lowest peasant or day-labourer ; 
and a moralist 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 occupations, 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 presently disgust us ; but one that 
introduces kings and princes, acquires in our eyes an air of 



472 ESSAY XV. 

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 wisdom, 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 this particular, 
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 preserve the right of succession undisturbed, he entertains 
no indignation 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. 

The advantages of the Hanover succession are of an oppo- 
site 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 history of this island, that the privileges of the 
people have, during 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 long time, gave us sufficient security, without any stand- 
ing 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 the hardships of the old l feudal 
militia, and rather chose to entrust their prince with mer- 
cenary armies, which he easily turned against themselves. 
It was nothing extraordinary, therefore, that some of our 
British 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 over- 
looked 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, 
1 [Gothic : Editions H to N.] 



OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 



473 



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 prerogatives. ] Lh appears from 
the speeches, and proclamations of James I. and the whole 
train of that prince's actions, as well as his son's, that he re- 
garded the English government as a simple monarchy, and 
never imagined that any considerable part of his subjects en- 
tertained a contrary idea. This opinion made those monarchs 
discover their pretensions, without preparing any force to 
support them ; and even without reserve or disguise, which 
are always employed by those, who enter upon any new pro- 
ject, or endeavour to innovate in any government. The flat- 
tery of courtiers farther 2 confirmed their prejudices ; and 
above all, that of the clergy, who from several passages of 



1 [For this sentence and the next, Edi- 
tions H to P read as follows ; K to P, in 
a note : It appears from the speeches, and 
proclamations, and whole train of King 
James I.'s actions, as well as his son's, 
that they considered the English govern- 
ment as a simple monarchy, and never 
imagined that any considerable part of 
their subjects entertained a contrary 
idea. This made them discover their 
pretensions, without preparing any force 
to support them ; and even without re- 
serve or disguise, which are always em- 
ployed by those, who enter upon any 
new project, or endeavour to innovate 
in any government. King James told 
his parliament plainly, when they med- 
dled in state affairs, Ne sutor ultra cre- 
pidam. He used also, at his table, in 
promiscuous companies, to advance his 
notions, in a manner still more undis- 
guised : As we may learn from a story 
told in the life of Mr. Waller, and 
which that poet used frequently to re- 
peat. When Mr. Waller was young, 
he had the curiosity to go to court ; and 
he stood in the circle, and saw King 
James dine, where, amongst other com- 
pany, there sat at table two bishops. 
The King, openly and aloud, proposed 
this question, Whether he might not 
take his subjects money, when he had 
occasion for it, without all this formality 
of parliament ? The one bishop readily 
replied, God forbid you should not: For 
you are the breath of our nostrils. The 
other bishop declined answering, and 



said he was not skilled in parliamentary 
cases : But upon the King's urging 
him, and saying he would admit of no 
evasion, his lordship replied very plea- 
santly, Why, then, I think your majesty 
may lawfully take my brother's money : 
For he offers it. In Sir Walter 
Kaleigh's preface to the History of the 
World, there is this remarkable passage. 
Philip II. by strong hand and main 
force, attempted to make himself not 
only an absolute monarch over the 
Netherlands, like unto the kings and 
sovereigns of England and France ; but 
Turk-like, to tread under his feet all their 
natural and fundamental laws, privileges, 
and antient rights. Spenser, speaking 
of some grants of the English kings to 
the Irish corporations, says, ' All which, 
tho', at the time of their first grant, 
they were tolerable, and perhaps reason- 
able, yet now are most unreasonable 
and inconvenient. But all these will 
easily be cut off with the superior power 
of her majesty's prerogative, against 
which her own grants are not to be 
pleaded orinforced.' State of Ireland, 
p. 1537. Edit. 1706. 

As these were very common, if not, 
perhaps, the universal notions of the 
times, the two first princes of the house 
of Stuart were the more excusable for 
their mistake. And Eapin, 1 suitable to 
his usual malignity and partiality, 
seems to treat them with too much se- 
verity, upon account of it. 

2 [Blinded them : Editions H to N.] 



[Editions H and I read : The most judicious of historians.] 



474 ESSAY XV. 

scripture, and these wrested too, had erected a regular and 
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 au- 
thority established on the same bottom with the privileges 
of the people. By electing him in the royal line, we cut off 
all hopes of ambitious subjects, who might, in future emer- 
gencies, disturb the government by their cabals and preten- 
sions : By rendering the crown hereditary in his family, we 
avoided all the inconveniencies of elective monarchy : And by 
excluding the lineal heir, we secured all our constitutional 
limitations, and rendered our government uniform and of a 
piece. The people cherish monarchy, because protected by 
it : The monarch favours liberty, because 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, 
either in the house of Stuart, or in that of Hanover. There 
are also disadvantages in each establishment, which an im- 
partial patriot would ponder and examine, in order to form 
a just judgment 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 wars 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 preju- 
dicial to society than that established amongst us, is contrary 
to it, and affords no toleration, 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 all 
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 partizan of the Stuarts, but will confess, that 
the claim of hereditary, indefeasible right, and the Roman 
Catholic religion, are also disadvantages in that family. It 




OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 475 

belongs, therefore, to a philosopher alone, who is of neither 
party, to put all the circumstances 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 conse- 
quences, unforseen, do always, in fact, result from every one. 
Hesitation, and reserve, and suspense, 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 multi- 
tude, 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 
following reflections will, I hope, show the temper, if not the 
understanding of a philosopher. 

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 government was kept in a continual fever, by the 
contention between the privileges of the people and the pre- 
rogatives of the crown. If arms were dropped, the noise of 
disputes continued : Or if these were silenced, jealousy still 
corroded the heart, and 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 
establishment has taken place ; whatever factions may have 
prevailed 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 order, has flourished almost without 
interruption : Trade and manufactures, and agriculture, have 



476 ESSAY XV. 

encreased : The arts, and sciences, and philosophy, have been 
cultivated. Even religious parties have been necessitated to 
lay aside their mutual rancour : And the glory of the nation 
has spread itself all over Europe ; J 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 manner 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 cir- 
cumstances 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 
number. 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 family, I fear, are not yet antiquated ; and who 
can foretel, 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 con- 
cessions ; where there is tolerable temper or prudence on 
both sides, or on either side. Among contending titles, the 
question can only be determined by the sword, and by devas- 
tation, 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 
escape 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 
incumbrances? Such fatal measures would not probably 

^ ' [For the remainder of this sentence, and the great antagonist of that power 
Editions H to P substitute : While we which threatens every people with con- 
etand the bulwark against oppression, quest and subjection.] 



OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 477 

have been embraced, had it not been to secure a precarious 
establishment. 1 

But to convince us, that an hereditary title is to be em- 
braced rather than a parliamentary one, which is not sup- 
ported by any 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 family, 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 government and 
national constitution, like a quack with a sickly patient ? 2 

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 alto- 
gether absurd), but on account of their religion. Which 
leads us to compare the disadvantages above mentioned in 
each established. 

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 handle 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, per- 

1 [Editions H to P add the note: be sufficient for committing what would 
Those who consider how universal this be regarded as an injustice to the prince, 
pernicious practice of lending has be- They must be supported by some gross, 
come all over Europe, may perhaps dis- popular, and familiar topics ; and wise 
pute this last opinion. But we lay men, though convinced of their force, 
under less necessity than other states.] would reject them, in compliance with 

2 [Editions H to P add the following the weakness and prejudices of the peo- 
paragraph : The advantages which re- pie. An incroaching tyrant or deluded 
suit from a parliamentary title, prefer- bigot alone, by his misconduct, is able 
ably to an hereditary one, tho' they are to enrage the nation, and render prac- 
great, are too refined ever to enter into ticable what was always perhaps desir- 
the conception of the vulgar. The bulk able.] 

of mankind would never allow them to 



478 ESSAY XV. 

haps, the spot of ground in Europe the least inconvenient 
for a King of England. 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 con- 
nect us more closely with the house of Austria, our natural 
ally. 1 

The religious persuasion of the house of Stuart is an in- 
convenience of a much deeper dye, and would threaten us 
with much more dismal consequences. The Soman Catholic 
religion, with its train of priests and friers, 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 
from the regal office (which must be prejudicial to any state), 
it bestows the former on a foreigner, who has always a sepa- 
rate 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 likely to keep possession, for a long time, of the minds of 
the people. And though it is much to be hoped, that the 
progress of reason will, by degrees, abate the 8 acrimony of 
opposite religions all over Europe ; yet the spirit of modera- 
tion has, as yet, made too slow advances to be entirely 
trusted. 3 

Thus, upon the whole, the advantages of the settlement in 

1 [Editions H to P insert the follow- from those of other princes; made a por- 
ing paragraph : In the last war, it has sonal quarrel of every public injury.] ' 
been of service to us, by furnishing U3 2 [The virulent acrimony : Editions 
with a considerable body of auxiliary H to N.l 

troops, the bravest and most faithful in 3 [Editions H to P add : The conduct 

the world. The Elector of Hanover is of the Saxon family, where the same 

the only considerable prince in the em- person can be a Catholic King and Pro- 

pire, who has pursued no separate end, testant Elector, is, perhaps, the first 

and has raised up no stale pretensions, instance, in modern times, of so reason- 

during the late commotions of Europe ; able and prudent a behaviour. And the 

but has acted, all along, with the dignity gradual progress of the Catholic super- 

of a King of Britain. And ever since stition does, even there, prognosticate a 

the accession of that family, it would speedy alteration : After which, 'tis 

be difficult to show any harm we have justly to be apprehended, that persecu- 

ever received from the electoral do- tions will put a speedy period to the 

minions, except that short disgust in Protestant religion in the place of its 

1718, with Charles XII., who, regula- nativity.] 
ting himself by maxims very different 



[Editions and P append the note : This was published in 1752.] 



OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 479 

the family of Stuart, which frees us from a disputed title, 
seem to bear some proportion with those of the settlement 
in the family 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 establishment, in settling the crown on a 
foreign prince. What party an impartial patriot, in the 
reign of K. William or Q. Anne, would have chosen amidst 
these opposite views, may, perhaps, to some appear hard to 
determine. 1 

But the settlement in the House of Hanover has actually 
taken place. The princes of that family, without intrigue, 
without cabal, without solicitation on their part, have been 
called to mount our throne, by the united voice of the whole 
legislative body. They have, since their accession, displayed, 
in all their actions, the utmost mildness, equity, and regard 
to the laws and constitutions. Our own ministers, our own 
parliaments, ourselves have governed us ; and if aught ill has 
befallen us, we can only blame fortune or ourselves. What 
a reproach must we become among nations, if, disgusted with 
a settlement 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 dis- 
position, 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 a civil war and rebellion ? Not to mention, that so long 
possession, 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 pre- 
sent possession : So that now we should not, even by a revo- 
lution, 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 
incumbrances, in which the interest of so many persons is 
concerned. And a revolution made by foreign forces, is a 
conquest : A calamity, with which the precarious balance of 

1 [Editions H to P add : For my part, progress and security, can scarce be too 
I esteem liberty so invaluable a blessing fondly cherished by every one who is a 
in society, that whatever favours its lover of human kind.] 



480 ESSAY XVI. 

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. 

1 It is not with forms of government, as with other artificial 
contrivances; where an old engine maybe 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 
very circumstance of its being established ; the bulk of man- 
kind being governed by authority, not reason, and never 
attributing authority to any thing that has not the recom- 
mendation of antiquity. To tamper, therefore, in this affair, 
or try experiments merely upon the credit of supposed argu- 
ment and philosophy, can never be the part of a wise magis- 
trate, 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 adjust his innovations, as much as 
possible, to the ancient fabric, and preserve entire the chief 
pillars and supports of the constitution. 

The mathematicians in Europe have been much divided 
concerning that figure of a ship, which is the most commo- 
dious for sailing ; and Hutgens, who at last determined the 
controversy, is justly thought to have obliged the learned, as 
well as commercial 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 govern- 
ment must be allowed more perfect than another, indepen- 
dent of the manners and humours of particular men; why 
may we not enquire what is the most perfect of all, though 
the common botched and inaccurate 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 

1 [Editions H to P begin as follows : politician is the most beneficial cha- 

Of all mankind there are none so per- racter in nature, if accompanied with 

nicious as political projectors, if they authority ; and the most innocent, and 

have power ; nor so ridiculous, if they not altogether useless, even if deprived 

want it : As on the other hand, a wise of it.] 



IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 481 

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 government, 
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 govern- 
ment as near it as possible, by such gentle alterations and 
innovations as may not give too great disturbance to society. 

All I pretend to in the present essay is to revive this sub- 
ject 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 chimerical. 

All plans of government, which suppose great reformation 
in the manners of mankind, are plainly imaginary. Of this 
nature, are the Republic of Plato, and the Utopia of Sir 
Thomas Moee. The Oceana is the only valuable model of 
a commonwealth, 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 
abilities, 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 restraint. Thirdly, The Oceana provides not 
a sufficient security 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 nega- 
tive 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 consequence : Such a dif- 
ference is there in the manner of placing the same thing. 
When a popular bill has been debated in parliament, is 
brought to maturity, all its conveniencies and inconveniences, 
weighed and balanced ; if afterwards it be presented for the 
royal assent, few princes will venture to reject the unanimous 

VOL. III. I I 



482 ESSAY XVI. 

desire of the people. But could the King crush a dis- 
agreeable 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 exorbitant power proceeds not, in any government, 
from new laws, so much as from neglecting to remedy the 
abuses, which frequently rise from the old ones. A govern- 
ment, says Machiavel, 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 all 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. If it be of greater 
extent, it were better to enlarge the parishes, or throw more 
parishes into a county, than encrease the number of counties. 

1 Let all the freeholders of twenty pounds a-year in the 
county, 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 
election, 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 re- 
presentatives. For we shall bestow on all senators the 
authority of county magistrates, and on all county magis- 
trates the authority of county representatives. 

Let the senators meet in the capital, and be endowed with 
the whole executive power of the commonwealth ; the power 

1 [Editions H and I read : Let all Let all the freeholders of ten pounds a 

the freeholders in the country parishes, year in the country, and all the honw- 

and those who pay scot and lot in holders worth 200 pounds in the town- 

the town parishes, &c. K to P, read : parishes, &c] 



IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 483 

of peace and war, of giving orders to generals, admirals, and 
ambassadors, and, in short, all the prerogatives of a British 
King, except his negative. 

Let the county representatives meet in their particular 
counties, and possess the whole legislative power of the com- 
monwealth ; 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 rejecting it. 

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 representa- 
tives of the county order the magistrates to assemble the 
whole court of representatives, 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 pro- 
posed 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 counties, 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 
number of members of its own body, not to be re-elected for 
that year. The senate cannot throw out twice in a, year the 
senator of the same county. 

i i 2 



484 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 chuse the following magistrates ; a protector, 
who represents the dignity of the commonwealth, and pre- 
sides 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 commissioners of the treasury 
and a first commissioner. All these must be senators. The 
senate also names all the ambassadors 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 
foreign politics. The council of state has session and suffrage 
in all the other councils. 

The council of religion and learning inspects the univer- 
sities 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 improve- 
ments may be made of the municipal law. That of war 
inspects the militia and its discipline, magazines, stores, &c, 
and when the republic 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 nomina- 
tion of the captains and all inferior 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. 

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 
candidates 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 public offices, even of being a magistrate or 



IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 485 

representative : But he takes his seat in the court of compe- 
titors. 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 abolished. 

The court of competitors has no power in the common- 
wealth. 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 chuse 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 accused 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 magistrates 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. 

Every county is a kind of republic within itself, and the 
representatives may make bye-laws, which have no authority 
'till three months after they are voted. A copy of the law is 
sent to the senate, and to every other county. The senate, 
or any single county, maj r , at any time, annul any bye-law of 
another county. 

The representatives have all the authority of the British 
justices of peace in trials, commitments, &c. 

The magistrates have the appointment of all the officers of 
the revenue in each county. All causes with regard to the 
revenue are carried ultimately by appeal before the magis- 
trates. 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 



486 ESSAY XVI. 

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 
presbyter. 

The militia is established in imitation of that of Swisser- 
land, 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 during 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 twelvemonth. But after that, it must be confirmed by ths 
magistrates of the county, to which the regiment belongs. 
The magistrates may break any officer in the county regi- 
ment. 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 
extraordinary emergencies, of dictatorial power for six months. 

The protector may pardon any person condemned by the 
inferior 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 four counties. The representatives of each of these 
chuse one senator, and ten magistrates. There are therefore 
in the city four senators, forty-four magistrates, and four 
hundred representatives. 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. 



IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 487 

When they enact any bye-law, the greater number of 
counties or divisions determines the matter. And where 
these are equal, the magistrates have the casting vote. 

The magistrates chuse the mayor, sheriff, recorder, and 
other officers of the city. 

In the commonwealth, no representative, magistrate, or 
senator, 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 repre- 
sentative. 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 
habitation ; and therefore, in their parochial meetings, will 
probably chuse 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 grandees 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 nobles in Poland are more than 10,000, and yet these 
oppress the people. But as power always continues there in 
the same persons and families, this makes them, in a manner, 
a different nation 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 
people, as Harrington observes, would want wisdom, without 
the senate : The senate, without the people, would want 
honesty. 

A large assembly of 1,000, for instance, to represent the 
people, if allowed to debate, would fall into disorder. If 
not allowed 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 



488 ESSAY XVI. 

bodies ; and then they may debate with safety, and every in- 
convenience seems to be prevented. 

Cardinal de Retz says, that all numerous assemblies, 
however 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 neighbour, 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. 1 

There are two things to be guarded against in every 
senate : Its combination, and its division. Its combination 
is most dangerous. 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 undistinguishing rabble, like the English electors, 
but by men of fortune and education. 2. The small power 
they are allowed. They have few offices to dispose of. 
AJmost all are given by the magistrates in the counties. 
8. The court of competitors, which being composed of men 
that are their rivals, next to them 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 small- 
ness of their number. 2. As faction supposes a combination 
in a separate interest, it is prevented by their dependence on 
the people. 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 possible 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 

1 [Editions H to P add : Good sense only way of making a people wise, is to 
is one thing: Butfollies are numberless; keep them from uniting into large as- 
and every man has a different one. The semblies.] 






IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 489 



parts on the one hand, or extraordinary stupidity on the 
other, appears in any senator ; but they would be sufficient 
to prevent 1 intrigue and. faction, by making the disposal of 
the offices a thing of course. For instance, let it be a reso- 
lution, 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 ma,n shall 
attain the higher offices but through the lower : That no 
man shall be protector twice, &c. 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 ; other- 
wise 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 representatives may interpose whenever they 
think proper. 

The chief support of the Bkitish government is the oppo- 
sition of interests ; but that, though in the main serviceable, 
breeds endless factions. In the foregoing plan, it does all 
the good without any of the harm. The competitors have 
no power of controlling the senate : they have only the power 
of accusing, and appealing to the people. 

It is necessary, likewise, to prevent both combination and 
division in the thousand magistrates. This is done suffi- 
ciently by the separation of places and interest. 

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 
whenever 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, 
except when they meet in one place, and fall under the 
guidance of ambitious leaders. Not to mention their annual 
election, 2 by the whole body of the people, that are of any 
consideration. 

A small commonwealth is the happiest government in the 

1 [Brigue : Editions H to P.] people : so editions H to M end the 

2 [By almost the whole body of the paragraph.] 



490 ESSAY XVI. 

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 o* 
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 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 
rewards but what arise from their ambition, vanity, or public 
spirit. The salaries of the French judges amount not to the 
interest of the sums they pay for their offices. The Dutch 
burgo-masters have little more immediate profit than the 
English justices of peace, or the members of the house of 
commons formerly. But lest any should suspect, that this 
would beget negligence in the administration (which is little 
to be feared, considering the 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 representatives. 

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, 1 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 

1 [Formerly one of the wisest and most renowned governments in the world : 
Editions H to P. 




IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 491 

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, the former may 
become more expeditious, and secret in their resolutions, 
than it is possible for the latter. 

The chief alterations that could be made on the British 
government, in order to bring it to the most perfect model of 
limited monarchy, seem to be the following. First, The 
plan of 1 Cromwell's parliament ought to be restored, by 
making the representation equal, and by allowing none to 
vote in the county elections who possess not 2 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 re- 
moved : 3 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 election of their own 
members; and no commoner should be allowed 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 leader 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 
measure on the abilities and behaviour of the sovereign; 
which are variable and uncertain circumstances. 

This plan of limited monarchy, however corrected, seems 
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 influence on the government. Thirdly, The sword 
is in the hands of a single person, who will always neglect to 
discipline the militia, in order to have a pretence for keeping 
up a standing army. 4 

1 [Of the republican parliament: Edi- liaments, destroyed entirely the au- 
tions H to P.] thority of that house : Editions H to P.] 

2 [A hundred a year : Editions H 4 [Editions H to P add : It is evi- 
and I.] dent, that this is a mortal distemper in 

8 [Whose behaviour, in former par- the Bbitish government, of which it 



492 ESSAY XVI. 

We shall conclude this subject, with observing the false- 
hood of the common opinion, that no large state, such as 
France or Great Britain, could ever be modelled into a 
commonwealth, 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 extensive 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 conspire 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 government. 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 mutually 
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. Aristocracies are better adapted for peace and 
order, and accordingly were most admired by ancient writers ; s 
but they are jealous and oppressive. In a large government, 
which is modelled with masterly 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 concoc- 
tion 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 in- 
trigue, 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 

must at last inevitably perish. I must, with its limited monarchy, as -well as a 

however, confess, that Sweden seems, standing army, which is less dangerous 

in some measure, to have remedied this than the British.] 
inconvenience, and to have a militia, 



IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 493 

on the endless projects of human race, Man and for ever ! 
The world itself probably is not immortal. Such con- 
suming plagues may arise as would leave even a perfect 
government a weak prey to its neighbours. We know not to 
what length enthusiasm, 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 re- 
moved, whimsical and unaccountable factions often arise, 
from personal favour or enmity. Perhaps, rust may grow to 
the springs of the most accurate political machine, and dis- 
order its motions. Lastly, extensive conquests, when pursued, 
must be the ruin of every free government ; and of the more 
perfect governments 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 funda- 
mental law against conquests ; yet republics have ambition 
as well as individuals, and present interest makes men forget- 
ful of their posterity. It is a sufficient incitement to human 
endeavours, that such a government would flourish for many 
ages ; without pretending to bestow, on any work of man, 
that immortality, which the Almighty seems to have refused 
to his own productions. 



INDEX 



THE THIRD VOLUME. 



f. means ' and following pages.' 



ADD 

Addison, 195 

JEgina, slaves in, 421 

JEschines, 376, 398, 404, 411 

Agathocles, cruelties of, 405 

Agriculture, in Greece and Italy, 412 

Alexander VI., character of, by Guic- 
ciardin, 29 

Alexander the Great, 103 ; his suc- 
cessors jealous of balance of power, 
350; treasures amassed by his suc- 
cessors, 361 

Alexandria, ancient, greatness of, 429 

America, discovery of mines a stimulant 
to industry, 313 

Ammianus Marcellinus, 429 

Anacharsis the Scythian, remark of, 312 

Ancients, instance of their outspoken- 
ness, 189; war caused by their want 
of politeness, 191 ; rude custom, of, 
193; slavery among, 387, f; pay of 
their public servants, 388 ; supposed 
to be ignorant of balance of power, 
350 ; infanticide among, 396 ; their 
soldiers all married, 401 ; their battles 
more destructive than modern battles, 
401 ; cold-blooded butcheries of, 404, 
405 ; insecurity of property among, 
406 ; cause of their political disorders, 
409 ; inferior to the moderns, 410 ; 
their populousness, 414, f. See 
Greece, Rome 

Annandale, Hume tutor to Marquis of, 
47 

Antigonus, anecdote of, 181 

Antipater, repartee of, 226 

Appian, his account of the treasures of 
the Ptolemies, 343 ; quoted, 394, 399, 
402, 416, 436, 438 



ATH 

Ariosto, 192 ; as a poet, 270 

Aristides the Sophist, 440 

Aristocracy, power of in a state, 100 ; 
Venetian and Polish, ib. ; best form 
of, 101 

Aristophanes, 391 

Aristotle, 431, 433 

Armies, ancient, 290, f. ; employment of 
mercenaries, 310 ; cost of Koman, ib.; 
cost, &c. of Cromwell's army, 418 ; 
Philip of Macedon's, 424, 425; a 
model army, 486 

Arrian, his vanity, 188 ; cited, 104, 
361, 410 

Arts and Sciences : cultivation of the 
liberal arts, 93 ; the product of free 
nations, 157; decline of in Greece, 
158 ; progress of in Kome and Flor- 
ence, ib.; in France, 159 ; in England, 
ib.; rise and advancement of, 174, f. ; 
causes, ib.; caution needed in tracing 
history of, 176; impossible, except 
under free government, 177, 179; 
discouraging causes, 180; conditions 
favourable to, 181 ; influence of 
monarchy and republic on, 185 ; de- 
pend on refined taste, ib.; commence- 
ment of their decline, 195 ; emulation 
in, 196; French literature a hin- 
drance to German, ib. ; influence on 
temper, 223 ; refinements in, 299, f., 
305 ; increase power of nations, 303 ; 
flourishing state of in England, 306 ; 
favourable to liberty, ib. ; innocent 
luxury beneficial, 307 

Astronomy, discouraging to ambition, 
227 

Athenceus, 418, 419, 421, 422, 440 



496 



INDEX TO 



ATH 

Athenians, pay enormous interest on 
loans, 163 ; their taste formed by 
orators, 169 ; tyranny of, 406 

Athens, plague of, 228 ; prohibition to 
export figs, 331 ; money amassed by, 
341, 361 ; singular customs, 375, f . ; 
slavery at, 390 ; the Thirty Tyrants, 
404 ; greatness of, 418 ; population 
and extent, 419 ; census of, 421 

Attains of Pergamus, praised for infan- 
ticide, 396 

Atticus, makes a poor figure in Cicero, 
189 

Austria, empire of, 353 

Authors, ancient, their licentiousness, 
188 

Autobiography, Hume's, Adam Smith's 
share in it, 80 ; hostile criticism, 
81 



Bacon, Lord, 253, 297 

Balance of Power, 348, f; anxiety as to 
in Greece, 349 ; founded on common 
sense, 352 

Banks, doubt as to benefit of, 311 ; 
effect of, 339 ; in Scotland, 340 

Batavians, the ancient, 250 

Belgium, ancient population of, 437 

Bentivoglio, Cardinal, 255 

Berkeley, Dr., 35, 253 

Berne, money lent by, 342 

Boccaccio, 228 

Bolingbroke, Lord, Hume's opinion of, 
74 ; his eloquence, 173 

Boswell, passages cited from, 83 

Britain, ancient, marriage in, 232 ; bar- 
barous condition of, 436 

British Constitution. See Constitu- 
tion 

Burgoyne, Geometrie du Due de, 40 

Burton, Mr., mistake in his Life of 
Hume, 38 ; cited, 47 ; his account of 
Hume's Dialogues on Natural Reli- 
gion, 77 

Butler, Dr., 24 



Cesar, Julius, his good sense, 1 69 ; 

cited, 247, 399, 404, 436; hands Cato 

a billet-doux, 302; his subjugation 

of the Republic, 403 
Capitolinus, 458 

Carthaginians, oppression of, 103 
Cato, 189; his indignation with Caesar, 

302; his slaves, 391, 393 
Catullus, 243 

Cervantes, his Sancho Panza, 240 
Character. See National 
Charles II., 137 



CRO 

Charles VIII. of France, his invasion of 
Italy, 303 

China, progress of Confucianism in, 
183; commerce of, 296; infanticide 
in, 396 

Chios, number of slaves in, 421 

Christian Religion, 131, f. ; a system of 
speculative opinions, 132; priesthood 
promotes hatred and discord, 132, 
133 

Christians, Early, charged with bigotry 
and imprudence, 132 

Cicero, 29, 161, 254, 357, 386, 411, 418, 
428 ; proscribed by Mark Antony, 
102 ; a party man, 134 ; dissatisfied 
with his own eloquence, 164 ; with 
that of Demosthenes, 165 ; a rhetori- 
cal flight, 166 ; the finest gentleman 
of his age, 188; his scepticism and 
vanity, 189; Be Oratore, ib.; his 
solace for deafness, 226 ; his epilogues, 
260; as an orator, 261 

Civil Liberty, 156 ; England an example 
of, 97 ; involved in liberty of press, 98 

Clarendon, Lord, 264 

Clephane, Dr., Hume's letter to, 56 

Clergy. See Priest, Priesthood, Chris- 
tian Religion 

Climate, alterations in, 433, f. 

Columella, 382, 389, 393, 394, 412. 434 

Commerce, 287. See Trade and Manu- 
factures 

Commodus, Emperor, 457 

Commonwealth, idea of a perfect, 480, 
482, f. ; false opinion as to, 492 ; 
probable duration of it, 493 

Conde, Prince of, 181 

Congreve, 241 

Confucius, resemblance of the Quakers 
to his followers, 149; progress of his 
doctrines, 183 

Constitution, British, 120, f.; power of 
King,Lords, and Commons, ib.; influ- 
ence of the Crown, 121 ; Hume's re- 
marks on, 126 

Contract, Original, 443 ; meaning of, 
445 ; debated in France, 459 

Convents, nurseries of superstition, 395 ; 
reason why women become nuns, 396 

Conway, General, 6 

Corinth, great number of slaves in, 421 

Corneille, 106, 241 

Crassus, wealth of, 123 

Credit, public, 360, f. 

Cromwell, number and cost of his army, 
418 ; plan of his parliament, 491 

Crown, British, revenues of, 1 23 ; power 
of on the increase, 125 ; prerogative 
of, 465, f.; of Tudors and Stuarts 
467 ; privileges usurped by Commons 
468 



THE THIRD VOLUME. 



497 



cus 

Customs, some remarkable, 374, f.; at 
Athens, 375, f.; ancient and modern, 
385, f.; destructive of population, 402 

Cyrus, the Younger, a toper, 257 



Datames, remark of the ancients con- 
cerning, 304 

UAunoy, Madame, 236 

Decelean war, desertion of slaves during, 
420 

Delicacy of passion, hurtful, 91 ; cure 
for, 92 

of taste, desirable, 92 ; favour- 
able to love and friendship, 93 ; ex- 
clusiveness of, 94 

French, 190 

Democracy, effects of, 100; best form of, 
101 ; the Athenian, 376 ; restoration 
of, 403 

Demosthenes pleading, 165 ; his daring 
apostrophe, 166; his slaves, 391; 
quoted, 342, 349, 375, 376, 377, 386, 
390, 391, 398, 407,410, 419, 420, 422 

DeBetz, Cardinal, 124, 171, 488 

Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, 
account of, 77; letters to Adam Smith, 
78 ; A. Smith's objections to publish- 
ing, 79 ; Hume's dispositions re- 
garding, ib.; published by his nephew, 
80 

Diodorus Siculus, 104, 169, 256, 290, 
399, 404,405, 409, 411, 415, 416, 417, 
422, 424, 429, 433, 436, 438, 440, 
443 

Diogenes Laertius, 415 

Dionysius Halicarnassus, 239, 425 

the Elder, 290, 417; butcheries 

of, 404 

Dissenters, the country party, 135 

Dissertations, Hume's four, 60, 67 ; 
mutilation of, 68, f.; Dr. Home's re- 
marks, ib. 

Divorce, voluntary, 233, 237; reasons 
against, 238, 239 ; ancient laws of 
Rome, ib. 

Douglas, Home's, 64 ; Hume's remarks 
on, 64, 66 

Du Bos, l'Abbe, 259, 335, 432, 439 

Duelling, character of men of honour, 

194 
Dutch, the, first introduced the practice 
of borrowing, 163 ; commerce of, 348 ; 
cause of their industry, 357 
Du Tot, 314 



Eclectics, the Roman, 184 
Editions of Hume's Works, list of, 85 
Egypt, population when conquered by 
Romans, 440 
VOL. III. K 



FRA 

Elliot, Gilbert, Hume's letter to, 52; 
Elliot's reply, ib 

Eloisa and Abelard, 238 

Eloquence, ancient, 164; English, 165, 
166 decline of, 167; difference of 
ancient and modern, ib. ; discourage- 
ments of modern, 168; Roman and 
Greek, ib. ; causes of its decline, ib. ; 
conditions favouring it in ancient 
times, 170; want of genius in modern, 
ib. ; of French sermons, superior to 
English, 171 ; French lawyers, ib.; 
English temper disadvantageous to, 
ib.; false taste in, 172; common 
opinion of, ib. ; Attic, 1 73 ; Lysias 
and Calvus compared with Demo- 
sthenes and Cicero, ib.; Lord Boling- 
broke, ib. 

England, government of, a compromise, 
96; liberty in, ib.; parties in, 107, f., 
117, 133, 136, 139; increase of vena- 
lity, 306 ; cost of her army and fleet, 
310 ; guardian of liberties of Europe, 
353 ; wars with France, 354; her re- 
venues, 366 ; her creditors, 373 ; 
singular custom, 379 ; innovations of 
Henry VIII. and Charles I., 453 

Enthusiasm, true sources of, 145 ; its 
consequences to society, 146; opposed 
to priestly power, ib ; religions arising 
from, 148 ; its fury soon spent, ib. 

Epicurean, the, 197, f. 

Epirus, inhabitants sold by P. JEmilius, 
424 

Erskine, Sir H., 3 

Essays, Moral and Political, Hume's, 
40 ; their success, 41 ; preface to, ib. ; 
list of, 42 ; classification of, 43, f. 

Ethics. See Morals. 

Euxine, climate described by Ovid, 434 ; 
by Tournefort, ib. 

Euripides, the two wives of, 232 



Factions, political and religious, 129, f. ; 
in ancient Greece, 404 ; in L?eland, ib. 

Fanaticism, 148 

Flamininus, Titus, his conference with 
Philip of Macedon, 189 

Flechier, his funeral sermon on Marshal 
Turenne, 171 

Florus, 395 

Fontenelle, 94, 227, 242, 260, 442 

Fowler, Professor, on quoting Hume's 
Treatise, 39 

France, form of government, 95; under 
Henri III. and IV., 98 ; disputes of 
Molinists and Jansenists in, 150 ; 
progress of the arts and sciences in, 
159; of drama, ib.; of trade, 160, 
336; abuses in government of, 162; 

K 



498 



INDEX TO 



GAL 

poverty of peasantry, 298 
dance of bullion in, 338 



abun- 



GaUantry, the passion of, 192, f. 

Gaul, character and condition of people, 
256, 437; climate of, 433; popula- 
tion of, 436 

Gee, Mr., his writings on Trade, 
322 

Genoa, anarchy in, 105 ; bank of St. 
George, 106 

Gentleman's Magazine, notices of 
Hume's Dissertations in, 68, f. 

Germany, scarcity of money in, 316; 
inhabitants, 436 

Gorgias Leontinus, 169 

Government, absolute, inconveniences 
of, 99 ; free and republican, depend- 
ing upon checks, ib. ; anarchy in 
Roman, 100; Venetian and Polish, 
ib.; Eastern mode of, 105; stability 
of the Venetian, ib.; first principles 
of, 109; founded on opinion, 110; 
origin and object of, 113 ; consolida- 
tion of, 115; origin of kingly, ib.; 
struggle between authority and 
liberty, 116; system of mixed, 119; 
modern monarchical, great improve- 
ments in, 161 ; abuses in the French, 
1 62 ; sources of abuse in free go- 
vernments, ib. ; the Chinese, 183 ; 
monarchical, owes its perfection to 
the republican, 186; difference be- 
tween monarchies and republics, 187; 
ill manners of European republics, 
188: knowledge in the arts of, 303; 
different theories of in England, 443 ; 
Deity, ultimate author of, 444; the 
people the pretended source of power, 
445 ; original foundation of, 446 ; re- 
volution, 448 ; Athenian democracy, 
449 ; force the origin of moet govern- 
ments, 450 ; allegiance to, 455 ; suc- 
cession of Roman Emperors, 458 ; 
title, 459 ; passive obedience to, 460 ; 
when resistance to, lawful, 461 ; true 
rule of, 468 ; English, as regarded by 
James I., 473 ; under the Stuarts, 
474 ; plan of, 482 ; chief support of 
British, 489 

Gracchi, sedition of, 394 

Grant, General, 3 

Greece, ancient, decline of arts in, 158 ; 
small states favourable to the arts, 
182 ; anxiety as to the balance of 
power, 349; cold-blooded butcheries 
in, 404, f.; unsettled state, 407 ; size 
and population of cities, 418, f., 
422; neglect of military discipline, 
442 



HUM 

Greeks, ancient, foDd of the bottle, 257 ; 

their privileges observed by Romans, 

441 
Guelfs and Ghibellines, factions of, 129 
Guicciardin, 29, 303 
Gustavus Vasa, 135 

Hannibal, his victories in Italy, 351 

Happiness, attainment of, 205, 220; 
Spartan idea, 226 ; no perfect distribu- 
tion of, 230 

Hardouin, Pere, 426 

Harrington, J., his ' Oceana ' the only 
valuable model of a commonwealth, 
481 ; prediction of, 122 

Helvetia, inhabitants, 438 

Henriade, 96 

Henri IV, remark of, about astrologers, 
373 

Henry VII., treasure amassed by, 341 

Herodian, 429, 436 

Herodotus, 104, 410, 419, 424 

Hertford, Earl of, 6 

Hiero of Syracuse, understood the balance 
of power, 352 

Hirtius, 438 

History of House of Tudor, Hume's, 6 

Holland, form of government of, 95 ; 
Presbyterian and Arminian factions 
in, 136 

Home, J., author of Douglas, 9, 61. 65 

ZTowr,moralcharactersofhislieroos,267 

Horace, 159, 177, 190, 194, 390 

Home, Dr., remarks on Hume's Disser- 
tations, 68 ; attacks Hume and Adam 
Smith, 80, f. 

Hortensius, Nicolaus, 428 

House of Commons, British, 112 ; sup- 
port of popular government, 307 

Human Life, more governed by fortune 
than reason, 231 

Human Nature, dignity and meanness 
of, 150, f. ; estimate of, 152 ; com- 
parison of men and animals, ib. ; its 
passions, 154, f.; ills of, 226, f. 

Human Understanding, Hume's Enquiry 
concerning, 3 

Hume, his birth and family, 1 ; residence 
in France, 2, 3 ; rising reputation, 4 ; 
plan of history, ib. ; success of his 
works, 6 ; attached to embassy to 
Paris, ib.; illness, 7 ; his character 
drawn by himself, ib.; his death, 13 ; 
his passion for literature, 15; letter 
to M. Ramsay, if).; his mode of life, 
18, f.; letters to Prof. Hutoheson, 27, 
f., 33 ; his Collection of Scotticisms, 
35; dissatisfied with his own Myl<\ 
36 ; desire of applause, ib.; criticism 
of his own works, 36, f. ; Johnson's 
observations, 40, 83 ; his Sceptic, 46 ; 



THE THIRD VOLUME. 



499 



Stoic, ib.; tendency to materialism, ib.; 
residence in Edinburgh, 47; ap- 
pointed Judge-Advocate of expedi- 
tion against Port 1' Orient, ib. ; Philo- 
sophical Essays concerning the 
Human Understanding, 49; sale of 
his works, 50 ; Warburton's attack, 
ib.; his Essay on Miracles, 50; Con- 
versation with a Jesuit, 51; his En- 
quiry concerning the Principles of 
Morals, 52 ; his letters to Gilbert 
Elliot, 51, 54, 1.; his Dialogues con- 
cerning Natural Keligion, 54, 77; 
literary activity, 55 ; political dis- 
courses, 56 ; becomes known abroad, 
ib. ; letter to Dr. Clephane, ib. ; ap- 
pointed keeper of Advocates' library, 
59; his History of Great Britain, ib.; 
letters to Adam Smith, 59, 78 ; trans- 
lates Plutarch's Lives, ib. ; declines 
editing a newspaper, 60; his Four 
Dissertations, 60, 67 ; his remarks on 
Dr. Warburton, 64 ; dedication of 
his Dissertations, 65 ; letters to 
Andrew Millar, 60, 65; Essays on 
Suicide and Immortality of the Soul, 
69, f, surreptitiously published, ib.; 
his care in preparing his works for 
the press, 73 ; his changes of opinion, 
73, 74 ; remarks on Bolingbroke and 
Swift, ib.; neglects philosophy, 75, f.; 
appoints W. Strahan his literary ex- 
ecutor, 79 ; publication of his Auto- 
biography, 80; hostile criticism, 81; 
Wesley's sermon on, 82 ; his deathbed, 
83 ; supplement to the Life of, 84 ; 
watching his grave, ib.; list of edi- 
tions of his works, 85; his remarks 
on English parties, 107, f., 117, f . ; 
on the British constitution, 126 ; 
charges early Christians with ' im- 
prudence and bigotry,' 132 ; his defi- 
nition of ' Priests,' 147; on Judaism 
and Popery, 148 ; on Church of Eng- 
land, ib. ; on English sects, ib, ; his 
objection to mixed companies, 194 ; 
his ideas of happiness, 198, 220 ; on 
the value of money, 314; his plan of 
a commonwealth, 482, f. 

Hunt, Mr., on Hume's Treatise of Hu- 
man Nature, 39 ; on Hume's scepti- 
cism, 75 

Hard, Dr., his pamphlet against Hume, 
5 ; a pious fraud, 62 

Hutchcson, Professor, 27, f. 

Hutchinson, Mr., his scheme for pay- 
ment of National Debt, 370 



Independents, character of, 148; political 
union with Deists, 150 



MAN 

Interest, low, a sign of prosperity, 
320. See Money 

Ireland, Swift on financial condition of, 
332 ; factions in, 404 

Isocrates, 404, 405 

Italy, factions, 129 ; poverty of pea- 
santry, 298 ; want of martial spirit in 
modern Italians, 304 ; cheap prices 
in ancient, 320 ; population, 425, f. ; 
uncultivated land, 430 ; herds of 
swine, ib. 



Jacobites, the, 144 
James I., anecdote by "Waller, 473 
Jansenists, enthusiasm of, 150 
Jealousy, in Asia, 235; in Spain, 236 
Jesuits, tyrants of the people, 150 
Johnson, remark on Hume's Collection 

of Scotticisms, 35 ; his strictures on 

Hume, 40, 83 
Johnson, Ben, Volpone of, 397 
Josephus, 429, 440 
Justi-n, 438 
Juvenal, 188, 193, 254, 433 



Karnes, Lord, Hume's letters to, 23, 48 
Koran, moral precepts of, 267 



La Fleche, Hume's residence at, 22, 23,. 

40 ; conversation with a Jesuit at, 51 
Language, dependent on manners, 253 
Le Blanc, l'Abbe, translates Hume's 

Political Discourses, 56 
Liberty. See Civil Liberty 
Literature, simplicity and refinement 

in writing, 240, 243 ; sensational, ib.; 

style, 241 ; great authors compared, 

ib.; taste in, 266, f. 
Liny, 106, 129, 291, 342, 399, 404,409, 

424, 438 
Locke, 35, 460 
Longinus, 159 
Longman, T., publishes 3rd vol. of 

Treatise of Human Nature, 30, 32 
Litcan, 395 
Lucian, 442 

Lucretius, 188, 199, 241 
Luxury, indulgences in, 299 ; different 

estimates of, 300 ; refined arts, 301, 

f. ; vicious, 307, f. 
Lysias, 406, 410, 423 



Machvavel, 103 ; his defective reason- 
ings, 156 ; his character of a weak 
prince, 157 ; cited, 351 

Mullet, his account of Egypt,. 435 

Manufactures, absence of supplied by 

2 



eoo 



INDEX TO 



MAR 

agriculture, 293; contribute to the 
power of a state, 294 

Marriage, contract of, 231; an extra 
wife allowed by Athenians, 232 ; 
among the ancient Britons, ib. ; poly- 
gamy, 233 ; duration of, 237 f. 

Martial. 390, 395 

Manvillon, E'eazar publishes transla- 
tion of Hume's Political Discourses 
in France, 56 

Medici, their wealth makes them mas- 
ters of Florence, 123 

Mehemet Effendi, saying of, 234 

Melon, M., 289 

Mmander, 245 

Miller, A., Hume's letters to, 60, 65 ; 
letter to Hume, 68 

Miracles, Hume's Essay on, 50 ; its 
style, 51 

Molinists, friends to superstition, 150 
, Monarchy, absolute, points of resem- 
blance to a republic, 95 ; incon- 
venience of an elective, 1 01 ; the 
best form of, ib. ; improved character 
of modern monarchs, 161 ; absolute, 
repugnant to law, 180 ; the Chinese, 
183 ; enormous monarchies destruc- 
>ve to human nature, 355 ; plan of 
limited, 482 f. 

Money, not one of the subjects of com- 
merce, 309 ; representative of labour, 
312; causes high prices, 313; value 
of in France, 314 ; its quantity 
of little consequence to a State, 
315 f. ; scarcity in some parts of 
Europe, ib. ; rise of prices after dis- 
covery of West Indies, 318 ; in China, 
320 ; has a fictitious value, 321 ; 
causes of high interest, 322 ; rise of 
interest in Scotland, 323 ; causes of 
low interest, 326 ; interest the 
barometer of the State, 327 ; propor- 
tion between, and goods, 328 ; in- 
terest in Roman Spain, 329 ; reduc- 
tion of interest in England and 
France, 330 ; methods of sinking and 
raising its value, 337 ; treasures 
amassed by Henry VII., 341 ; by 
Philip of Macedon and Perseus, 342 

Montesquieu, 440 

Morals, Hume's Inquiry concerning the 
Principles of, 52 ; a delicate sense 
of, 151 ; harmony of authors as to, 
267 

More, Sir T., Utopia of, 481 

Morocco, wars of colour in, 129, 130 

Muscovites, ancient, 193 



National Character, Hume's Essay on, 
49 ; influence of physical causes, 



244, 246 f. ; of example, 248; 
of government, 249 ; similarity 
of Jews and Armenians, 250 ; 
ancient Greek and Roman, ib. ; 
French and British, 251 ; negroes 
inferior to whites, 252; pretended 
influence of climate, 253 ; language 
dependent on, ib. ; of Northern and 
Southern countries, 253 f. 256 ; 
Turks and ancient Romans, 255 ; 
moral causes of, 256; addiction to 
strong drinks, 257 ; amorousness, 
258 

National Debt, a modern expedient, 
361 f. ; consequences of, 363, 368 f. ; 
scheme for payment of, 370 

Nepos, Cornelius, Life of Atticus, 390 

Newton, 183 

Nicole, his Perpetuite de la Foi, 54 

Ninus, immense army of, 443 

Noone, John, 25 



Obedience, a duty in a State, 114 

Oceana, Harrington's, its defects, 481. 
See Harrington 

Opinion, of two kinds, 110; its de- 
fenders and assailants, 118; changes 
in, 125; influence in formation oi 
character, 255 f. 

Optimates and Populares, Roman parties, 
134 

Orators, ancient and modern, 164 f. ; 
Roman and Greek, 1 69 ; scurrility ot 
ancient, 188. See Eloquence 

Ovid, 177, 386, 433, 435 



Parties, in general, 127, 131, 133; in 
Greek empire, 128; in Rome, 129, 
134; in Italy, ib. ; in Morocco, ib. ; 
in England, 133, 134; ecclesiastical, 
court, and country, 135; origin 
Whig and Tory, 136 f.; coalition of, 
464 f. 

Passive obedience, 460 

Paten, pleadings of, 171 

Paterculus, 416 

Persecution, religious, among the an- 
cients, 132 

Persian empire, cause of its overthrow, 
350 

Persian Letters, 237 

Persians, ancient, Machiavel on their 
subjugation by the Greeks, 103 f . ; 
drunkenness in repute among, 257 

Personal Identity, 33 

Petronius, 390 

Phadrus, 190 

Philip of Macedon, his rejoinder to a 
candid Roman, 189 ; treasure amassed 




THE THIRD VOLUME. 



501 



PHI 



by, 342 ; his army as Captain-Gene- 
ral of Greece, 424 f. 

Philosophy, attention paid to in Eng- 
land, 33 ; in the early Christian 
period, 132 ; excellence of the Eng- 
lish in, 159 ; Peripatetic introduced 
in the schools, 182 ; Cartesian, 
183; the Eclectics, 184; the Epi- 
curean, 197 f ; Stoic, 203 f. ; 
Platonist, 210 f. ; Sceptic, 213 f. ; 
devotion to, 220 ; considerations on, 
224 f. 

Plato, 361, 418, 420, 424, 481 

Platonist, the, 210 

Plautus, 420 

Pleasure, Hume on, 198 f. 

Pliny, 193, 263, 342, 389, 394, 400, 
416, 426, 429, 439 

Plutarch, 190, 191, 226, 227, 249, 257, 
361, 331, 376, 386, 391, 395, 396, 
404, 409, 416, 438, 440, 441, 442 

Poetry, pretended inspiration, 177; 
taste and genius in, 270 f. 

Poisoning, among the Eomans, pre- 
valence of, 1 06 

Poland, deficient in the arts, 305 

Politeness, ancient, 188 f . ; modern, 
190 f. 

Politian, 429 

Politics, science of, 98 ; ' every man a 
knave,' 118 

Polybius, 103, 104, 121, 189, 292, 320, 
342. 399, 402, 415, 416, 423, 424, 
434, 435, 436, 441 

Polygamy, reasons for and against, 233, 
234, 235 

Pope, 226 

Population, of ancient nations, 381, 
383; effect of slavery on, 387; of 
monasticism and infanticide, 396 ; 
disadvantages of the ancients as re- 
gards, 400 ; ancient and modern 
compared, 413, 432, 435; of Greek 
and Roman cities, 418 f. ; of Roman 
Empire under Augustus and Trajan, 
439, 440 

Presbyterians, character of, 148 

Press, liberty of, 94 ; peculiar to Great 
Britain, 95 ; accounted for in Eng- 
land, 96 ; advantages of, 97 

Priests, enemies of liberty, 135; defini- 
tion of, 147 ; a superstitious inven- 
tion, ib. ; of all religions the same, 
245 ; their hypocrisy, 246 ; their 
self-deception, ambition and fury, 
ib. ; among the Romans, 247 

Protestant Succession, Hume's Essay 
on, 48 ; its advantages and disad- 
vantages considered, 471 f., 475 ; 
reasons for excluding the Stnarts, 
477 f. 



SEN 
Ptolemies, their treasures, 343 
Pyrrhus, on Roman discipline, 304 



Quakers, resemble Confucians, 148f. 
Quintilian, 254 
Quintus Curtius, 257, 429 
Quixote, Bon, 272 



Raleigh, 473 

Ramsay, M., Hume's letters to, 15, 26 

Rapin, 74, 457 

Religion, truth in, 54 ; ancient, 131 ; 
Christian, ib. ; above human cog- 
nizance, 283 

Republics, oppressions of, 101 ; great 
armies of ancient, 290. See Govern- 
ment 

Rheims, Hume's residence at, 2, 23 

Rhodes, 422 

Right, origin of, 110 

Rochester, Lord, licentiousness of, 
188 

Rome, buildings of ancient, 56, 57 ; 
government under Emperors, 96 ; 
Roman tyranny, 102 ; most illus- 
trious period of its history, 106 ; 
parties in, 129, 134; progress of 
arts in, 158 ; arbitrary decisions of 
consuls, 179 ; Roman rudeness, 
191 ; Romans a candid race, 255 ; 
always at war, 292 ; corrupted by 
luxury, 305; armies of, 310; doubts 
as to Roman history, 351 ; cause of 
the destruction of the empire, 358 ; 
public spectacles, 387 ; influx of 
slaves, 389, 391 ; Civil Law, 391 ; 
pay of troops, 399 ; Roman hu- 
manity, 407 ; massacres during civil 
wars, 408 ; extent of, 423, 426, 427 ; 
how built, 425 ; population of, 425, 
427 ; bills of mortality, 428 ; streets 
full of snow and ice, 433 ; largest 
population of empire, 450 ; how the 
emperors succeeded each other, 458 

Romish Church, acquisition of power 
by, 149 ; a hindrance to learning, 
183; inspires hatred of other reli 
gions, 284 

Rousseau, 187 



Sallust, 161, 188, 305, 428 

Saserna, 434, 435 

Saxony, Catholic King and Protestant 

Elector of, 478 
Sceptic, the, 213 
Sciences. See Arts 
Senate, an ideal, 488 
Seneca, 387, 390, 393, 395, 396, 404 



502 



INDEX TO 



SEV 

Severambians, history of the, 232 

Shaftesbury, Lord, 117, 154, 191, 377 

Shakespeare, 262 

Slavery, Roman, 385 f. ; influence on 
population, 387 f. ; privileges of, 
390 ; at Athens, 390, 420 ; in West 
Indies, 390; at Rome, 391 f . ; in 
Sicily, 395; iu Turkey and Egypt, 
395 ; in Sparta, 421 ; in Corinth and 
JEgina, ib. 

Smith, Adam, letter to W. Strahan, 
Esq., 9 ; correspondence with Hume, 
77 f. ; assailed for his share in 
Hume's Autobiography, 80 f. 

Solomon, his polygamy, 234 

Solon, legalizes infanticide, 396 

Sophocles, 211 

Spain, poverty of peasantry, 298 ; con- 
dition of ancient, 438 

Sparta, absence of commerce, 290 

Spenser, 473 

Spinoza, 40 

St. Clair, General, 3 ; Hume appointed 
secretary to, 47 

Stage, English, licentiousness of, 183; 
the French, 284 

Slanian, 342, 343 

State, chief magistrate in a, 100; in- 
convenience of an elective monarchy, 
101; necessity for wise laws, 105; 
ascendancy of. one man, 115; autho- 
rity and liberty in, 116; possessors 
of wealth in, 123 ; trade not regarded 
as an affair of, 157 ; internal police, 
161 ; small states favourable to the 
arts, 182; divisions of the, 239; 
agricultural, 293 ; causes of its great- 
ness, 294 f. ; quantity of money of 
little consequence to, 315; refined 
life beneficial to, 319 

Stoic, the, 203 f. 

Strabo, 247, 389, 393, 417, 425, 433, 
436, 438, 440, 441 

Strahan, letter to, from Adam Smith, 
9; appointed Hume's literary exe- 
cutor, 79 ; declines, 80 

Suetonius, 103, 386, 389, 426, 428 

Suicide and the Immortality of the 
Soul, Hume's Essays on, 69 f. ; note 
by Allan Ramsay (?) 71 

Suidas, 440 

Superstition, 144 ; true sources of, 
145; favourable to priestly power, 
146; its insidiousness, 149; an 
enemy to civil liberty, ib. 

Sweden, military force of, 492 

Swift, Dr., 74, 332, 408 

Sybaris, cause of its populousness, 
411 

Syracuse, greatness of, 418 



VAR 

Tacitus, 96, 103, 135, 310, 373, 389, 
392, 394, 396, 401, 426, 436, 441 

Talon, 171 

Tasso, 201 

Taste, standard of, 266, 279 ; varieties, 
269, f.; want of imaginative delicacy, 
272 ; right criticism, 275, 278 ; its 
principles, 276; influenced by man- 
ners, 280 ; by religious principles, 
283 

Taxes, dangerous maxim as to, 356 ; 
best kind of, 358 ; on land, 359 

Temple, Sir W., 357 

Terence, 241 

Tertullian, 439, 440 

Thebes, conquest by Alexander, 422 

Theocritus, 415 

Thought, liberty of in ancient times, 66 

Thucydides, 104, 228, 290, 399, 404, 
411, 414, 419, 421,422, 424 

Tiber, frozen, 432 

Timoleon, 399 

Toleration, religious, 97 

Tories, character and conduct of, 1 39, f. ; 
none in Scotland, 143; union of High 
Church with Roman Catholics, 150 

Tournefort, his visit to the Grand 
Turk's seraglio, 235 ; cited, 434 

Trachinians, their application to Sparta, 
399 

Trade, not regarded as an affair of state, 
157; needs a free government, 159 ; 
ancient marts, 160, 357 ; progress in 
France, 160; decay under absolute 
government, ib.; contributes to great- 
ness of state, 289, 294; banks and 
paper currency, 311, 365; increases 
industry, 325 ; ignorance, 330, f. ; re- 
strictions in France, 336 ; obstructions 
to, 343; taxes on foreign oommodi- 
ties, ib. ; domestic industry basis of 
foreign commerce, 346, f . ; nations 
pre-eminent in, 356 

Tragedy, power of, 258, f. ; cause of 
pleasure produced by, 261, f.; tragic 
scenes in painting and poetry, 262 ; 
action of, 265 

Treatise on Human Nature, Hume's, 2, 
25, 32, 33, 36, 37, 40, 49 

Turkey, taxes in, 360 ; slave trade in, 
395 

Tyre, destruction of, 410 



United provinces, government of, 490 
Upper House, plan for an, 491 
Ustariz, Geronimo di, 384 



Valerius Maximus, 426 
Varro, 389, 393, 394, 434 



THE THIRD VOLUME. 



503 



VAU 

Vauban, Marshal, 336 
Velleius Paterculus, 342, 438 
Venetian Government, stability of, 105 
Venice, factions in, 129 ; not eminent in 

the arts, 158 
Verves, cruelties of, 102; proscribed, $. 
Virgil, 190 
Vitruvius, 426 
Voltaire, 96 
Vopiscus, 423, 430 



Wallace, Dr., his Dissertation on Popu- 
lousness of Ancient and Modern 
Times, 58 

Waller, 170, 197 

Walpole, Sir E., his character by Hume, 
45 



Warburton, attacks Hume, 50, 61, 62 

Wars, religious, 129, 132 

Wesley, J., sermon on Hume, 82 

West Indies, slavery in, 390 

Whigs, character and conduct of, 139,f.; 

definition of, 139 ; their leaders 

Deists, 150. See Tories 
Wilkes, J., 67 
Wolsey, Card. 191 
Works of the Learned, review in, 33 



Xenophon, 104, 163, 348,393,398,406, 

412, 419, 420, 421, 423, 435 
Xerxes, in want of a new pleasure, 1 98 



Zeal, public 106; needs moderating, 108 







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