Glass„ET-{..2ia!]: 
 Book lAj[ 
 
'i-^vS 
 
 SELECT 
 
 BRITISH CLASSICS. 
 
 VOLUME XXXIX. 
 
ESSAYS 
 
 ON 
 
 Men and Manners, 
 
 BY WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ. 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 / 
 
 Every single observation that is published by a man of genius, 
 " be it ever so trivial, should be esteemed of importance ; 
 <' because he speaks from his own impressions ; whereas 
 " common men publish common things, which they perhaps 
 *' gleaned from frivolous writers." 
 
 Essay on Writing and Books, No. LXIV. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM \V. MORSE, 
 
 FOR SAMUEL F. BRADFORD, NO. 4, SOUTH THIRD STREET, 
 
 AND JOHN CONRAD AND €0. NO. SO, CHESNUT STREET. 
 
 1804. 
 

MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ, 
 
 A GREAT part of the poetic works oF Mr. 
 Shenstone, particularly his Elegies and Pastorals, 
 are (as he himself expresses it) " The exact trans- 
 cripts of the situation of his own mind;" and abound 
 in frequent allusions to his own place, the beautiful 
 scene of his retirement from the world. Exclusive- 
 ly therefore of our natural curiosity to be acquainted 
 with the history of an author, whose works we peruse 
 with pleasure, some short account of Mr. Sh en- 
 stone's personal character, and situation in life, may 
 not only be agreeable, but absolutely necessary to the 
 reader ; as it is impossible he should enter into the 
 true spirit of his writings, if he is entirely ignorant 
 of those circumstances of his life, which sometimes 
 so greatly influences his reflection. 
 
 I could wish, however, that this task had been al- 
 lotted to some person capable of performing it in that 
 masterly manner which the subject so well deserves. 
 To confess the truth, it was chiefly to prevent his re- 
 mains from falling into the hands of any one still less 
 qualified to do him justice, that I have unwillingly 
 ventured tt) undertake the publication of them my- 
 self. 
 
 Mr. Shenstone was the eldest son of a plain un- 
 educated country gentleman in Shropshire, who far- 
 
 A 2 
 
VI MEMOIRS OF 
 
 med his own estate. The father, sensible of his 
 son's extraordinary capacity, resolved to give him a 
 learned education, and sent him a commoner to Pem- 
 broke College in Oxford, designing him for the 
 Church : but though he had the most awful notions 
 of the wisdom, power, and goodness of God, he ne- 
 ver could be persuaded to enter into orders. In his 
 private opinions he adhered to no particular sect, and 
 hated all religious disputea. But whatever were his 
 own sentiments, he alv.ays' shewed great tenderness 
 to those who differed from him. Tenderness, in- 
 deed, in every sense of the word, was his peculiar 
 characteristic ; his friends, his domestics, his poor 
 neighbours, all daily experienced his benevolent turn 
 of mind. Indeed, this virtue in him was often car- 
 ried to such excess, that it sometimes bordered up- 
 on weakness : yet if he was convinced that any of 
 those ranked amongst the number of his friends, had 
 treated him ungenerously, he was noteasily reconciled* 
 He used a maxim, however, on such occasions, 
 whieh is \Aorthy of being observed and imitated ; " I 
 never (said he) will be a revengeful enemy ; but I 
 cannot, it is not in my nature, to be half a friend.'* 
 He was in his temper, quite unsuspicious ; but if 
 suspicion v.as once awakened in him, it was not laid 
 asleep again without difficulty. 
 
 He was no economist ; the generosity of his tem- 
 per prevented him from paying a proper regard to 
 the use of money : he exceeded therefore the bounds 
 of his paternal fortune, which before he died was 
 considerably encumbered. But when one recollects 
 the perfect paradise he had raised around him, the hos- 
 pitality with which he lived, his great indulgence to 
 his servants, his charities to the indigent, and all done 
 with an estate not more than three hundred pounds a 
 year, one should rather be led to wonder that he left 
 any thing behind him, than to blume bis want of 
 economy. He left ho v. ever mere than sufficient to 
 
WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ. Vli 
 
 pay all his debts ; and by his will appropriated his 
 whole for that purpose. 
 
 It was perhaps from some considerations on the 
 narrowness of his fortune, that he forbore to marry ; 
 for he was no enemy to wedlock, had a high opinion 
 of many among the fair sex, was fond of their socie- 
 ty, and no stranger to the tenderest impressions. 
 One, which he received in his youth, was with dif- 
 ficulty surmounted. The lady was the subject of that 
 sweet pastoral,''in four parts, which has been so uni- 
 versally admired ; and which, one would have thought, 
 must have subdued the loftiest heart, and softened the 
 most obdurate. 
 
 His person, as to height, was above the middle 
 stature, but largely and rather inelegantly formed : 
 his face seemed plain till you conversed with him, 
 and then it grew very pleasing. In his dress he was 
 negligent, even to a fault; though when young, at 
 the university, he was accounted a Beau. He wore 
 his own hair, which was quite grey very early, in a 
 particalar manner ; not from any affectation of sin- 
 gularity, but from a maxim he had laid down that 
 without too slavish a regard to fashion, every one 
 should dress in a manner most suitable to his own 
 person and figure. In short, his faults were only lit 
 tie blemishes, thrown in by nature, as it were on 
 purpose to prevent him from rising too much above 
 the level of imperfection allotted to humanity. 
 
 His character as a writer will be distinguished by 
 simplicity with elegance, and genius with correct- 
 ness. He had a sublimity equal to the highest at- 
 tempts ; yet from the indolence of his temper, he 
 chose rather to amuse himself in culling flowers at 
 the foot of the mount, than to take the trouble cf 
 climbing the more arduous steeps of Parnassuf. 
 But whenever he was disposed to rise, his steps, 
 though natural, were noble, and always well support- 
 ed. In the tenderness of elegiac poetry he hath not 
 
Vlll MEMOIRS OF 
 
 been excelled ; in the simplicity of pastoral, one 
 may venture to say he had very few equals. Of 
 great sensibility himself, he never failed to engage 
 the hearts of his readers : and amidst the nicest at- 
 tention to the harmony of his numbers, he always 
 took care to express witJn propriety the sentiments 
 of an elegant mind. In all his writings, his greatest 
 difficulty was to please himself. I remember a pas- 
 sage in one of his letters, where, speaking of his 
 love songs, he says...." Some were written on oc- 
 casions a good deal imaginary, others not so ; and 
 the reason there are so many is, that I wanted to write 
 one good song, and could never please myself." It 
 was this diffidence which occasioned him to throw 
 aside many of his pieces before he had bestowed up- 
 on them his last touches. I have suppressed several 
 on this account ; and if among those which I hav» 
 selected, there should be discovered some little want 
 of his finishing polish, I hope it will be attributed to 
 this cause, and of course be excused : yet I flatter 
 myself there will always appear something well wor- 
 thy of having been preserved. And though I was 
 afraid of inserting what might injure the character 
 of my friend, yet as the sketches of a great master 
 are always valuable, I was unwilling the public should 
 lose any thing material of so accomplished a writer. 
 In this dilemma it will easily be conceived that the 
 task I had to perform would become somewhat diffi- 
 cult. How I have acquitted myself, the public must 
 judge. Nothing, however, except what he had al- 
 ready published, has been admitted without the ad- 
 vice of his most judicious friends, nothing altered, 
 without their particular concurrence. It is impossi-p 
 ble to please every one ; but it is hoped that no rea- 
 der will be so unreasonable, as to imagine that the 
 author wrote solely for his amuseriient : his talents 
 were various ; and though it may perhaps be allowed 
 that his excellence chiefly appeared in subjects of ten- 
 
WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ^ IX 
 
 derness and simplicity, yet he frequently condescend- 
 ed to trifle with those of humour and drollery : these, 
 indeed, he himself in some measure degraded by the 
 title which he gave them of Levities ; but had they 
 been entirely rejected, the public would have been 
 deprived of some Jeux d'esprits, excellent in their 
 kind, and Mr. Shenstone's character as a writer 
 would have been but imperfectly exhibited. 
 
 But the talents of Mr. Shenstone were not confi- 
 ned merely to poetry : his character, as a man of 
 clear judgment, and deep penetration, will best ap- 
 pear from his prose works. It is there we must search 
 for the acuteness of his understanding, and his pro- 
 found knowledge of the human heart. It is to be la- 
 mented indeed, that some things here are unfinished, 
 and can be regarded only as fragments : many are 
 left as single thoughts, but which, like the sparks of 
 diamonds, shew the richness of the mind to which 
 they belong ; or like the foot of a Hercules, discover 
 the uncommon strength, and extraordinary dimen- 
 sions of that hero. I have no apprehension of incur- 
 ring blame from any one, for preserving these valu- 
 able remains : they will discover to every reader, the 
 author's sentiments on several important subjects. 
 And there can be very few, to whom they will not 
 impart many thoughts, which they would never per- 
 haps have been able to draw from the source of their 
 own reflections. 
 
 But I believe little need be said to recommend the 
 writings of this gentleman to public attention. His 
 character is already sufficiently established. And if 
 he be not injured by the inability of his editor, but 
 there is no doubt he will ever maintain an eminent 
 station among the best of our English writers. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ON Publications, - - - 
 
 On the Test of popular Opinion, 
 
 On allowing Merit in others, 
 
 The Impromptu, _ . - 
 
 An Humourist, _ _ . - - 
 
 The Hermit, (in the manner of Cambray) 
 
 On Distinctions, Orders, and Dignities, 
 
 On the same Subject, . „ - . 
 
 A Character, - . - 
 
 On Reserve, a Fragment, 
 
 On external Figure, - - - 
 
 A Character, , - . - - 
 
 An Opinion of Ghosts, - - - 
 
 On Cards, a Fragment, - - - 
 
 On Hypocrisy, : - - - - 
 
 On Vanity, - . - . » 
 
 An Adventure, . - _ - 
 
 On Mod«sty and Impudence, 
 
 The History of Don Pedro***, 
 
 UpOTi Envy. To a Friend, R. G. 
 
 A Vision, - . . . 
 
 Unconnected Thoughts on Gardening, 
 
 On Politics, - . . - 
 
 Egotisms, from my own sensations. 
 
 On Dress, - - - - - 
 
 On Writing and Books, 
 
 Books, Sec. . - - - 
 
 Of Men and Manners, 
 
 Of Books and Writers, 
 
 On Men and Manners, - - - 
 
 On Religion, - . - 
 
 On Taste. . . - - 
 
 page 
 
 13 
 
 16 
 
 18 
 
 20 
 
 23 
 
 26 
 
 32 
 
 55 
 
 38 
 
 40 
 
 44 
 
 47 
 
 50 
 
 54 
 
 56 
 
 60 
 
 62 
 
 66 
 
 70 
 
 71 
 
 76 
 
 84 
 
 98 
 
 101 
 
 108 
 
 112 
 
 133 
 
 136 
 
 168 
 
 175 
 
 185 
 
 193 
 
ESSAYS 
 
 ON 
 
 Men and Manners. 
 
 ON PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 IT is not unamusing to consider the several 
 apologies that people make when they commence au- 
 thors. It is taken for granted that, on every publica- 
 tion, there is at least a seeming violation of modesty ; 
 a presumption, on the writer's side, that he is able 
 to instruct or entertain the world ; which implies a 
 supposition that he can communicate, what they can- 
 not draw from their own reflections. 
 
 To remove any prejudice this might occasion, has 
 been the general intent of prefaces. Some we find 
 extremely solicitous to claim acquaintance with their 
 reader ; addressing him by the most tender and en- 
 dearing appellations. He is in general styled the most 
 loving, candid and courteous creature that ever 
 breathed ; with a view, doubtless, that he will deserve 
 the compliment; and that his favour maybe secured 
 at the expence of his better judgment. Mean and 
 idle expectation I The accidental elopements and ad- 
 
 B 
 
J 4 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ventures of a composition ; the danger of an imper- 
 fect and surreptitious publication ; the pressing and 
 indiscreet instances of friends ; the pious and well- 
 meant frauds of acquaintance ; with the irresistable 
 commands of persons in high life ; have been excuses 
 often substituted in place of real motives, vanity and 
 hunger. 
 
 The most allowalde reasons for appearing thus in 
 public are, either the advantage or amusement of our 
 fellow-creatures, or our own private emolument and 
 reputation. 
 
 A man possessed of intellectual talents would be 
 more blamable in confining them to his own private 
 use, than the mean-spirited miser, that did the same 
 by his money. The latter is indeed obliged to bid 
 adieu to what he commuriicates ! the former enjoys 
 his treasures, even while he renders others the better 
 for them. A composition that enters the world with 
 a view of improving or amusing it (I mean only, 
 amusing it in a polite or innocent way) has a claim 
 to our utmost indulgence, even though it fail of the 
 effect intended. 
 
 \\ hen a writer'^ private interest appears the mo- 
 tive of his publication, the reader has a larger scope 
 for accusation, even if he be a sufferer. Whoever 
 pays for thoughts, Avhich this kind of writers may be 
 said to vend, has room enough to complain, if he be 
 disappointed of his bargain. He has no revenge, but 
 ridicule; and, contrary to the practice in other cases, 
 to make the worst of a bad bargain. 
 
 When the love of fame acts upon a man of genius 
 the case appears to stand thus. The generality of 
 the world, distinguished by the name of readers, ob- 
 serve with a reluctance not unnatural, a person rais- 
 ing himself above them. All men have some desire 
 of fame, and fame is grounded on comparison. Eve- 
 ry one then is somewhat inclined to dispute his title 
 to a superiority ; and to disallow his pretensions upon 
 
AND MANNERS, 15 
 
 the discovery of a flaw. Indeed, a fine writer, like 
 a luminous body, may be beneficial to the person he 
 enlightens ; but it is plain, he renders the capacity 
 of the other more discernible Examination, how- 
 ever, is a sort of turnpike in the way to fame, where, 
 though a writer be a while detained, and part with a 
 trifle from his pocket, he finds in his return a more 
 commodious and easy road to the temple. 
 
 When, therefore, a man is conscious of ability to 
 serve his country, or believes himself possessed of it 
 (for there is no previous test on this occasion) he has 
 
 no room to hesitate, or need lo make apology 
 
 When self-interest inclines a man to print, he should 
 consider that the purchaser expects a penny-worth 
 for his penny ; and has reason to asperse his honesty 
 if he finds himself deceived... .Also, that it is possible 
 to publish a book of no value, which is tco frequently 
 
 the product of such mercenary people When fame 
 
 is the principal object of our devotion, it should be 
 considered whether our character is like to gain in 
 point of wit, what it will probably loose in point of 
 modesty : otherwise, we shall be censured of vanity 
 more than famed for genius ; and depress our cha- 
 racter while we strive to raise it. 
 
 After all, there is a propensity in some to commu- 
 nicate their thoughts without any view at all : the 
 more sanguine of these employ the press; the 
 less lively are contented with being impertinent in 
 conversation. 
 
ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ON THE fESf OF POPULAR OPINION, 
 
 I HAPPEN to fall into company with a citizen, 
 a courtier, and an academic. 
 
 Says the citizen, I am told continually of taste, re- 
 finement and politeness ; but methinks the vulgar 
 and illiterate generally approve the same productions 
 with the connoisseurs. One rarely finds a landscape, 
 a building, or a play, that has charms for the critic 
 exclusive of the mechanic. But, on the other hand, 
 one readily remarks students who labour to be dull, 
 depraving their native relish by the very means they 
 use to refine it. The vulgar may not indeed be capa- 
 ble of giving the reasons why a composition pleases 
 them. That mechanical distinction they leave to the 
 connoisseur. But they are at all times, methinks, 
 judges of the beauty of an effect, a part of know- 
 ledge in most respects allowedly more genteel than 
 that of the operator. 
 
 Says the courtier, I cannot answer for every indi- 
 vidual instance: but I think, moderately speaking, 
 the vulgar are generally in the wrong. If they hap- 
 pen to be otherwise, it is principally owing to their 
 implicit reliance on the skill of their superiors: and 
 this has sometimes been strangely effectual in mak- 
 ing them imagine they relish perfection. In short, if 
 ever they judge well, it is at the time they least pre- 
 sume to frame opinions for themselves. 
 
 It is true they will pretend to taste an object which 
 they know their betters do. But then they consider 
 some person's judgment as a certain standard or rule; 
 they find the object exactly tally ; and this demon- 
 strated appearance of beauty affords them some small 
 degree of satisfaction. 
 
 It is the same with regard to the appetite, from 
 which the metaphor of taste is borrowed. " Such a 
 
AND MANNERS. 17 
 
 soup or olio, say they, is much in vogue ; and if you 
 do not like it, you must learn to like it." 
 
 But in poetry, for instance, it is urged that the 
 vulgar discover the same beauties with the man of 
 reading. 
 
 Now half or more of the beauties of poetry depend 
 on metaphor or allusion, neither of which, by a mind 
 uncultivated, can be applied to their proper counter- 
 parts. Their beauty, of consequence, is like a pic- 
 ture to a blind man. 
 
 How many of these peculiarities in poetry turn up- 
 on a knowledge of philosophy and history : and let 
 me add, these latent beauties give the most delight 
 to such as can unfold them. 
 
 I might launch out much farther in regard to the 
 
 narrow limits of their apprehensions W hat I have 
 
 said may exclude their infallibility; and it is my opi- 
 nion they are seldom right. 
 
 The academic spoke little, but to the purpose ; as- 
 serting that all ranks and stations have their ditferent 
 spheres of judging : that a clow^n of native taste 
 enough to relish Handel's Messiah, might unques- 
 tionably be so instructed as to relish it yet n»ore : 
 that an author, before he prints, should not flatter 
 himself vvith a confused expectation of pleasing both 
 the vulgar and the polite ; few things in comparison, 
 being capable of doing both in any great degree : that 
 he should always measure out his plan for the size of 
 understanding he would fit. If he can content himself 
 with the mob, he is pretty sure of numbers for a time. 
 If he write with more abundant elegance, it may es- 
 cape the organs of such readers ; but he will have a 
 chance for such applause as will more sensibly aflect 
 him. Let a writer then in his first performances neg- 
 lect the idea of profit, and the vulgar's applause en- 
 tirely : let him address him to the judicious few, and 
 then profit and the mob will follow* His first ap- 
 B3 
 
IS ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 pearance on the stage of lettei-s will engrpss the po- 
 liter compliments ; and his latter will partake of the 
 irrational huzza» 
 
 ON ALLQiriNG MERIf IN OTHERS. 
 
 A CERTAIN gentleman was expressing him- 
 !^elf as follows : 
 
 I confess, I have no great taste for poetry ; hut if I 
 had, I am apt to helieve I should read no other poe- 
 try than that of Mr. Pope. The rest but barely ar- 
 rive at a mediocrity in their art ; and, to be sure, po- 
 etry of that stamp can afford but slender pleasure. 
 
 I know not, says another, what may be the gentle- 
 iTian's motive to give this opinion : but I am persua- 
 ded, numbers pretend the same through mere jealousy 
 or envy. 
 
 A reader considers an author, as one who lays 
 claim to a superior genius. He is ever inclined to 
 dispute it, because, if he happen to invalidate his ti- 
 tle, he has at least one superior the less. Now though 
 a man's absolute merit may not depend upon the in- 
 feriority of another, yet his comparative v/orth varies 
 in regard to that of other people. Self-love, there- 
 fore, is ever attentive to pursue the single point of 
 admitting no more into the class of superiors, than it 
 is impossible to exclude. Could it even limit the 
 number to one, they would soon attempt to under- 
 mine him. Even Mr. Pope had been refused his 
 honours, but that the very constraint, and even ab- 
 surdity, of people's shutting their eyes grew as disa- 
 greeable to them, as that excellence, which, whe,o 
 open, they couUl not but discover. 
 
AND MANNERS. 19 
 
 But self-love obtains its wishes in another respect 
 also. It hereby not only depresses the characters of 
 many that have wrote, but stifles the genius of such 
 as might hereafter rise from amongst our inferiors. 
 
 Let us not deny to Mr. Pope the praises which a 
 person enamoured of poetry would bestow on one 
 that excelled in it : but let us consider Parnassus 
 rather as a republic than a monarchy ; where, al- 
 though some may be in possession of a more culti- 
 vated spot, yet others may possess land as fruitful, 
 upon equal cultivation. 
 
 On the whole, let us reflect, that the nature of the 
 soil, and the extent of its fertility, must remain un- 
 discovered, if the gentleman's desponding principle 
 should meet with approbation. 
 
 Mr. Pope's chief excellence lies in what I would 
 term consolidating or condensing sentences, yet pre- 
 serving ease and perspecuity. In smoothness of 
 verse, perhaps, he has been equalled: in regard to 
 invention, excelled. 
 
 Add to this, if the writers of antiquity may be es- 
 teemed our truest models, Mr. Pope is much more 
 witty, and less simple, than his own Horace appears 
 in any of his writings. More witty, and less simple, 
 than the modern Monsieur Boileau, who claimed the 
 merit of uniting the style of Juvenal and Persius 
 with that of Horace. 
 
 Satire gratifies self-love. This was one source of 
 his popularity ; and he seems even so very conscious 
 of it, as to stigmatize many inoffensive characters. 
 
 The circumstance of what is called alliteration and 
 the nice adjustment of the pause, have conspired to 
 charm the present age, but have at the same time 
 given his verses a very cloying peculiarity. 
 
 But, perhaps, we must '.^ot expect to trace the flow 
 of Waller, the landscape of Thompson, the fire of 
 Dryden, the imagery of Shakspeare, the simplicity 
 of Spencer, the courtliness of Prior, the humour of 
 
20 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 Swift, the wit of Cowley, the delicacy of Addison, 
 the tenderness of Otway, and the invention, the spi- 
 rit, and sublimity of Milton, joined in any single 
 writer. The lovers of poetry, therefore, should al- 
 low some praise to those who shine in any branch of 
 it, and only range them into classes jaccarding to 
 that species in which they shine. 
 
 " Qiiare agite, O juvenes !" 
 
 Banish the self-debasing principle, and scorn the dis- 
 ingenuity of readers. Humility has depressed many 
 a genius into a hermit ; but never yet raised one in- 
 to a poet of eminence. 
 
 fHE IMPROMPfU. 
 
 THE critics, however unable to fix the time 
 which it is most proper to allow for the action of an 
 epic poem, have universally agreed that some cer- 
 tain space is not to be exceeded. Concerning this, 
 Aristotle, their great Lycurgus, is entirely silent. 
 Succeeding critics have done little more than cavil 
 concerning the time really taken up by the greatest 
 epic writers : that, if they could not frame a law, 
 they might at least establish a precedent of unexcep- 
 tionable authority. Plomer, say they, confined the 
 action of his Iliad, or rather his action may be re- 
 duced, to the space of two months. His Odyssey, 
 according to Bossu and Dacier, is extended to eight 
 years. Virgil's iEneid has raised very different opin- 
 ions in his commentators. Tasso's poem includes a 
 summer.. ..But leaving such knotty points to persons 
 that appear born for the discussion of them, let us 
 
AND MANNERS. 21 
 
 cndeavourto establish laws that are more likely to be 
 obeyed, than controverted. An epic writer, though 
 limited in regard to the time of his action, is under 
 no sort of restraint with regard to the time he takes 
 to finish his poem. Far different is the case with a 
 "writer of Impromptu's. He indeed is allowed all 
 the liberties that he can possibly take in his compo- 
 sition, but is rigidly circumscribed with regard to 
 the space in which it is completed. And no wonder; 
 for whatever degree of poignancy may be required 
 in this composition, its peculiar merit must ever be 
 relative to the expedition with which it is produced. 
 
 It appears indeed to me to have the nature of that 
 kind of sallad, v/hich certain eminent adepts in che- 
 mistry have contrived to raise, while a joint of mut- 
 ton is roasting. We do not allow ourselves to blame 
 its unusual flatness and insipidity, but extol the fla- 
 vour it has, considering the time of its vegetation. 
 
 An extemporaneous poet, therefore, is to be judged 
 as we judge a race-horse; not by the gracefulness of 
 his motion, but the time he takes to finish his course. 
 The best critic upon earth may err in determining 
 his precise degree of merit, if he have neither a stop- 
 watch in his hand, nor a clock within his hearing. 
 
 To be a little more serious. An extemporaneous 
 piece ought to be examined by a compound ratio, or 
 a medium compounded of it's real worth, and the 
 shortness of the time that is employed in it's produc- 
 tion. By this rule, even A'irgil's poem may be in 
 some sort deemed extemporaneous, as the time he 
 took to perfect so extraordinary a composition, con- 
 sidered with its real worth, appears shorter than the 
 time employed to write the disiics of Cosconius. 
 
 On the other hand, I cannot allow this title to the 
 
 flashes of my friend S in the magazine, which 
 
 have no sort of claim to be called verses, besides 
 their instantaneitv. 
 
22 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 Having ever made it my ambition to see my writ- 
 ings distinguished for something poignant, unexpect- 
 ed, or, in some respects, peculiar ; I have acquired 
 a degree of fame by a firm adherence to the Con- 
 cetti. I have stung folks with my epigrams, amused 
 them with acrostics, puzzled them with rebusses, and 
 distracted them with riddles. It remained only for 
 me to succeed in the Impromptu, for which I was 
 utterly disqualiRed by a whoreson slowness of appre- 
 hension. 
 
 Still desirous, however, of the immortal honour 
 to grow distinguished for an extempore, I petitioned 
 Apollo to that purpose in a dream. His answer was 
 as follows :...." That whatever piece of wit, either 
 written or verbal, makes any pretence to merit, asr 
 of extemporaneous production, shall be said or Avrit- 
 ten within the time that the author supports himself 
 on one leg. That Horace had explained his m.ean- 
 ing, by the phrase stans pede in uno. And foras- 
 much as one man may persevere in the posture long- 
 er than another, he would recommend it to all can- 
 didates for this extraordinary accomplishment, that 
 they would habituate themselves to study in no other 
 atlidude whatsoever." 
 
 Methought I received his answer with the utmost 
 pleasure as well as veneration ; hoping, that, how- 
 ever I was debarred of the acumen requisite for an 
 extempore, I might learn to weary out my betters 
 in standing on one leg. 
 
AND MANNERSi 23 
 
 AN HUMOURISf. 
 
 TO form an estimate of the proportion which 
 one man's happiness bears to another's, we are to 
 consider the mind that is allotted to him with as much 
 attention as the circumstances. It were superfluous 
 to evince that the same objects which one despises, 
 are frequently to another the substantial source of 
 admiration. The man of business and the man of 
 pleasure are to each other mutually contemptible ; 
 and a blue garter has less charms for some, than 
 they can discover in a butterfly. The more candid 
 and sage observer condemns neither for his pursuits, 
 but for the derision he so profusely lavishes upon the 
 disposition of his neighbour. He concludes that 
 schemes infinitely various were at first intended for 
 our pursuit and pleasure ; and that some find their 
 account in heading a cry of hounds, as much as 
 others in the dignity of lord chief-justice. 
 
 Having premised thus much, I proceed to give 
 some account of a character which came within the 
 sphere of my own observation. 
 
 Not the entrance of a cathedral, not the sound of 
 a passing bell, not the furs of a magistrate, nor the 
 sables of a funeral, were fraught with half the so- 
 lemnity of face ! 
 
 Nay, so wonderfully serious was he observed to be 
 on all occasions, that it was found hardly possible to 
 be otherwise in his company. He quashed the loud- 
 est tempest of laughter, whenever he entered the 
 room ; and men's features, though ever so much 
 roughened, were sure to grow smooth at his ap- 
 proach. 
 
 The man had nothing vicious, or even ill-natured 
 in his character ; yet he was the dread of all jovial 
 conversation ; the young, the gay, found their spi- 
 
24 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 rits fly before him. Even the kitten and the puppy, 
 ' as it were by instinct, would forego their frolics, and 
 be still. The depression he occasioned was like that 
 of a damp or vitiatedair. Unconscious of any appa- 
 rent cause, you found your spirits sink insensibly : 
 and were any one to sit for the picture of ill-luck, it 
 is not possible the painter could select a more proper 
 person. 
 
 Yet he did not fail to boast of a superior share of 
 reason, even for the want of that very faculty, risi- 
 bility, with which it is supposed to be always joined. 
 
 Indeed he acquired the character of the most in- 
 genious person of his country, from this meditative 
 temper. Not that he had ever made any great dis- 
 covery of his talents ; but a few oracular declara- 
 tions, joined with a common opinion that he was 
 writing somewhat for posterity, completed his repu 
 tation. 
 
 Numbers would have willingly depreciated his cha- 
 racter, had not his known sobriety and reputed sense 
 deterred them. 
 
 ^^ He was one day overheard at his devotions, return- 
 ing his most fervent thanks for some particularities 
 in his situation, which the generality of mankind 
 would have but little regarded. 
 
 Accept, said he, the gratitude of thy most hum- 
 ble, yet most happy creature, not for silver or gold, 
 the tinsel of mankind, but for those amiable peculi- 
 arities which thou hast so graciously interwoven both 
 with my fortune and my complexion : for those trea- 
 sures so well adapted to that frame of mind thou hast 
 assigned me. 
 
 That the surname which has descended to me is 
 liable to no pun. 
 
 That it runs chiefly upon vowels and liquids. 
 
 That I have a picturesque countenance rather than 
 one tliat is esteemed of regular features. 
 
AND MANNERS. 25 
 
 That there is an intermediate hill, intercepting my 
 view of a nobleman's seat, whose ill-obtained supe- 
 riority I cannot bear to recollect. 
 
 That my estate is over-run with brambles, re- 
 sounds with cataracts, and is beautifully varied with 
 rocks and precipices, rather than an even cultivated 
 spot, fertile of corn, or wine, or oil ; or those kinds 
 of productions in which the sons of men delight 
 themselves. 
 
 That as thou dividest thy bounties impartially ; giv- 
 ing riches to one, and the contempt of riches to an- 
 other, so thou hast given me, in the midst of pover- 
 ty, to despise the insolence of riches, and by declin- 
 ing all emulation that is founded upon wealth, to 
 maintain the dignity ynd superiority of the Muses. 
 
 That I have a disposition either so elevated or so 
 ingenuous, that I can derive to myself amusement 
 from the very expedients and contrivances with which 
 rigorous necessity furnishes my invention. 
 
 That I can laugh at n^y own follies, foibles, and 
 infirmities; and that I do not want infirmities to em- 
 ploy this disposition. 
 
 This poor gentleman caught cold one winter's 
 night, as he was contemplating, by the side of a 
 chrystal stream by moonshine. This afterwards ter- 
 minated in a fever that was fatal to him. Since his 
 death, Ihave been favoured with the inspection of his 
 poetry, of which I preserved a catalogue for the bene- 
 fit of my readers. 
 
 OCCASIONAL POEMS. 
 
 On his^og, that growing corpulent refused a crust 
 when it was oftered him. 
 
 To the memory of a pair of breeches, that had 
 done him excellent service. 
 
 Having lost his trusty walking-staff, he coniplain- 
 eth. 
 
 C 
 
26 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 To his mistress, on her declaring that she lored 
 parsnips better than potatoes. 
 
 On an ear-wig that crept into a nectarine that it 
 might be swallowed by Cloe. 
 
 On cutting an artichoke in his garden the day that 
 Queen Anne cut her little finger. 
 
 Epigram on a wooden peg. 
 
 Ode to the memory of the great modern.. ..who first 
 invented shoe-buckles. 
 
 'The her m If. 
 (in the manner or cambrayJ 
 
 IT was in that delightful month which Love pre* 
 fers before all others, and which most reveres this 
 deity : that month which ever weaves a verdant car- 
 pet for the earth, and embroiders it with flowers. 
 The banks became inviting through their coverlets 
 of moss ; the violets, refreshed by the moisture of 
 descending rains, enriched the tepid air with their 
 agreeable perfumes. But the sliower was past ; the 
 sun dispersed the vapours ; and the sky was clear 
 and lucid, when Polydore walked forth. He was of 
 a complexion altogether plain and unaffected ; a lover 
 of the Muses, and beloved by them. He would often- 
 times retire from the noise of mixed conversation, to 
 enjoy the melody of birds, or the murmurs of a water- 
 fall. His neighbours often smiled at his peculiarity 
 of temper ; and he no less, at the vulgar cast of theirs. 
 He could never be content to pass his irrevocable 
 time in an idle x:omment upon a newspaper, or in ad- 
 justing the precise difference of temperature betwixt 
 the weather of to-day and yesterday. In sliort he was 
 not void of some ambition, but what he felt he ac- 
 
AND MANNERS. 27 
 
 knowledged, and was never averse to vindicate. As 
 he never censured any one who indulged their hu- 
 mour inoffensively, so he claimed no manner of ap- 
 plause for those pursuits which gratified his own. 
 But the sentiments he entertained of honour, and 
 the dignity conferred by royal authority, made it 
 wonderful how he bore the thoughts of obscurity and 
 oblivion. He mentioned with applause the youths 
 who by merit had arrived at station ; but he thought 
 that all should in life's visit leave some token of their 
 existence ; and that their friends might more reason- 
 ably expect it from them, than they from their pos- 
 terity. 
 
 There were few, he thought, of talents so very 
 inconsiderable, as to be unalterably excluded from 
 all degrees of fame : and in regard to such as had a 
 liberal education, he ever wished that in some art or 
 science they would be persuaded to engrave their 
 names. He thought it might be some pleasure to 
 reflect, that their names v»ould at least be honoured 
 by their descendants, although they might escape 
 the notice of such as were not prejudiced in their 
 favour. 
 
 What a lustre, said he, does the reputation of a 
 Wren, a Waller, or a Walsingham, cast upon their 
 remotest progeny ? and who would not wish rather 
 to be descended from them, than from the mere car- 
 case of nobility ? Yet wherever superb titles are 
 faithfully offered as the reward of merit, he tiiought 
 the allurements of ambition were too transpoiting to 
 be resisted. But to return. 
 
 Polydore, a new inhabitant in a sort of wild, un- 
 inhabited country, was now ascended to the top of a 
 mountain, and in the full enjoyn;ent of a very ex- 
 tensive prospect. Before him a broad and winding 
 valley, variegated with all the charms of landscape. 
 Fertile meadows, glittering streams, pendent rocks, 
 and nodding ruins. But these indeed were much 
 
28 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 less the objects of his attention, than those distant 
 Iiiils and spire that were almost concealed by one 
 undistinguished azure. The sea, indeed, appeared 
 to close the scene, though distant as it was it but 
 little variegated the view. Hardly indeed were it 
 distinguishable but for the beams of a descending 
 sun, which at the same time warned our traveller to 
 return, before the duskiness and dews of evening had 
 rendered the walk uncomfortable. 
 
 He had now descended to the foot of the moun- 
 tain, when he remarked an old hermit approaching 
 to a little hut, which he had formed with his own 
 hands at the very bottom of the precipice. Polydore, 
 all enamoured of the beauties he had been survey- 
 ing, could not avoid wondering at his conduct, who, 
 not content with shunning all commerce with man- 
 kind, had contrived as much as possible to exclude 
 all views of nature. He accosted him in the man- 
 ner following :... .Father, says he, it is with no small 
 surprise, that I observe your choice of situation, by 
 which you seem to neglect the most distant and de- 
 lightful landscape that ever my eyes beheld. The 
 hill, beneath which you have contrived to hide your 
 habitation, would have aflbrded you such a variety 
 of natural curiosities, as to a person so contemplative, 
 must appear highly entertaining : and as the cell to 
 which you are advancing is seemingly of your own 
 contrivance, methinks it is probable you would so have 
 placed it, as to present them, in all their beauty, to 
 your eye. 
 
 The hermit made him this answer. My son, says 
 he, the evening approaches, and you have deviated 
 from your way. 1 would not therefore detain you by 
 my story, did I not imagine the moon would prove 
 a safer guide to you, than that setting sun which you 
 must otherwise rely upon. Enter, therefore, for a 
 while into my cave, and I will give you then some 
 account of my adventures, which \vill solve your 
 
AND MANNERS. 29 
 
 doubts perhaps more effectually than any method I 
 can propose. But before you enter my lone abode, 
 calculated only for the use of meditation, dare to 
 contemn superfluous magnificence, and render thy- 
 self worthy of the being I contemplate. 
 
 Know then, that I owe what the world is pleased to 
 call my ruin (and indeed justly, were it not for the 
 use which I have made of it) to an assured depen- 
 dence, in a literal sense, upon confused and distant 
 prospects : a consideration, which hath indeed so af- 
 fected me, that I shall never henceforth enjoy a 
 landscape that lies at so remote a distance, as not to 
 exhibit all its parts. And indeed were I to form the 
 least pretentions to what your world calls taste, I 
 might even then perhaps contend that a well discri- 
 minated landscape was at all times to be preferred 
 to a distant and promiscuous azure. 
 
 I was born in the parish of a nobleman who arri- 
 ved to the principal management of the business of 
 the nation. The heir of his family and myself were 
 of the same age, and for sometime school fellows. 
 I had made considerable advances in his esteem ; 
 and the mutual affection we entertained for each 
 other, did not long remain unobserved by his family 
 or my own. He was sent early upon his travels pur- 
 suant to a very injudicious custom, and my parents 
 were solicited to consent that I might accompany 
 him. Intimations were given to my friends, that a 
 person of such importance as his father might con- 
 tribute much more to my immediate promotion, than 
 the utmost diligence I could use in pursuit of it. 
 My father, I remember, assented with reluctance : 
 my mother, fired with the ambition of her son's fu- 
 ture greatness, through much importunity, " wrung 
 from him his slow leave." I, for my own part, want- 
 ed no great persuasion. We made what is called 
 the great tour of Europe. We neither of us, I be- 
 lievf . could be said to want natural sense j but being 
 C 2 
 
so ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 banished so eiwly in life, were more attentive to eve- 
 ry deviation from our own indifferent customs, than 
 to any useful examination of their polices or man- 
 ners. Judgment, for the most part, ripens very slow- 
 ly. Fancy often expands her blossoms all at once. 
 
 We were now returning home from a six year's 
 absence : anticipating the caresses of our parents and 
 relations, when my ever honoured companion was at- 
 tacked by a fever. All possible means of safety prov- 
 ing finally ineffectual, he accosted me in one of his 
 lucid intervals as follows : 
 
 Alas 1 my Clytander 1 my life, they tell me, is of 
 very short continuance. The next paroxysm of my 
 fever will probably be conclusive. 
 
 The prospect of this sudden change does not allow 
 tne to speak the gratitude I owe thee ; much less to 
 reward the kindness on which it is so justly ground- 
 ed. Thou knov/est that I was sent away early from 
 my parents, and the more rational part of my life 
 has been passed with thee alone. It cannot be but 
 they will prove solicitous in their enquiries concern- 
 ing me. Thy narrative will awake their tenderness, 
 and they canncit but conceive some for their son's 
 companion and his friend. What I would hope is, 
 that they will render thee some services, in place of 
 those their beloved son intended thee, and which I 
 can unfeignedly assert, would have been only boun- 
 ded by my power. My dear companion ! farewell. 
 All other temporal enjoyments have I banished from 
 my heart ; but friendship lingers long, and 'tis with 
 tears I say farewell 
 
 My concern was truly so great, that, upon my ar- 
 rival in my native country, it was not at all encreas- 
 ed by the consideration that the nobleman, on whom 
 my hopes depended, was removed from all his places. 
 I waited on him ; and he appeared sensibly grieved 
 that the friendship he had ever professed could now 
 so little avail me. He recommended me, hov^ever, 
 
AND MANNERS. 31 
 
 to a friend of his that was then of the successful 
 party, and who, he was assured, would, at his re- 
 quest, assist me to the utmost of his power. I was 
 now in the prime of life, which I effectually consum- 
 ed upon the empty forms of our court-attendance. 
 Hopes arose before me like bubbles upon a stream ; 
 as quick succeeding one another, as superficial and 
 as vain. Thus busied in my pursuit, and rejecting 
 the assistance of cool examination, I found the win- 
 ter of life approaching, and nothing procured to shel- 
 ter or protect me when my second patron died. A 
 race of new ones appeared before me, and even yet 
 kept my expectations in play. I wished indeed I had 
 retreated sooner ; but to retire at last unrecompenc- 
 ed, and when a few months attendance might hap- 
 pen to prove successful, was beyond all power of re- 
 solution. 
 
 However, after a few years more attendance, dis- 
 tributed in equal proportions upon each of these new 
 patrons, I at length obtained a place of much trou- 
 ble and small emolument. On the acceptance of 
 this, my eyes seemed open all at once. I had no 
 passion remaining for the splendor which was grown 
 familiar tome, and for civility and confinement I en- 
 tertained an utter aversion. I officiated however for 
 a few weeks in my post, wondering still more and 
 more how I could ever covet the life I led. I was ever 
 most sincere, but sincerity clashed with my situation 
 every moment of the day. In short, I returned home 
 to a paternal income, not indeed intending that aus- 
 tere life in which you at present find me engaged.... 
 I thought to content myself with common necessa- 
 ries, and to give the rest, if aught remained, to cha- 
 rity; determined, however, to avoid all appearance 
 of singularity. But alas ! to my great surprise, the 
 person who supplied my expences had so far em- 
 broiled my little aflairs, that, when my debts, &c. 
 were discharged, I was unable to subsist in any bet- 
 
33 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ter manner than I do at present. I grew at first en- 
 tirely melancholy ; left the country where I was born, 
 and raised the humble roof that covers me in a coun- 
 try where I am not known. I now begin to think 
 myself happy in my present way of life : I cultivate 
 a few vegetables to support me ; and the little well 
 there, is a very clear one. I am now an useless in- 
 dividual ; little able to benefit mankind ; but a prey 
 to shame, and to confusion, on the first glance of 
 every eye that knows me. My spirits are indeed 
 something raised by a clear sky, or a meridian sun ; 
 but as to the extensive views of the country, I think 
 them well enough exchanged for the warmth and 
 comfort which this vale affords me. Ease is at least 
 the proper ambition of age, and it is confessedly my 
 supreme one. 
 
 Yet will I not permit you to depart from an her- 
 mit, without one instructive lesson. Whatever situ- 
 ation in life you ever wish or propose for yourself, ac- 
 quire a clear and lucid idea of the inconveniences 
 attending it. I utterly contemned and rejected, af- 
 ter a month's experience, the very post I had all my 
 life time been solicitous to procure. 
 
 ON DJSflNCl'IONS, O-RDEBS, AND DIGNITIES, 
 
 THE subject turned upon the nature of socie- 
 ties, ranks, orders, and distinctions, amongst men. 
 A gentleman of spirit, and of the popular faction, 
 had been long declaiming against any kind of hon- 
 ours that tended to elevate a body of people into a 
 distinct species from the rest of the nation. Parti- 
 cularly titles and blue ribbands were the object of his 
 indi§;nation. They were, as he pretended, too in- 
 
AND MANNERS. 53 
 
 vidious an ostentation of superiority, to be allowed 
 in any nation that styled itself free. Much was said 
 upon the subject of appearances, so far as they were 
 countenanced by law or custom. The bishop's lawn ; 
 the marshal's truncheon ; the baron's robe ; and the 
 judge's peruke, were considered only as necessary 
 substitutes, where genuine purity, real courage, na- 
 tive dignity, and suitable penetration, were wanting 
 to complete the characters of those to whom they 
 were assigned. 
 
 It was urged that policy had often effectually made 
 it a point to dazzle in order to enslave ; and instan- 
 ces were brought of groundless distinctions borne 
 about in the glare of day by certain persons, who, 
 being stripped of them, would be less esteemed than 
 the meanest plebeian. 
 
 He acknowledged, indeed, that kings, the foun- 
 tains of all political honour, had hitherto shewn no 
 complaisance to that sex whose softer dispositions 
 rendered them more excusably fond of such peculia- 
 rities. 
 
 That, in favour of the ladies, he should esteem 
 himself sufficiently happy in the honour of inventing 
 one order, which should be styled, The powerful or- 
 der of beauties. 
 
 That their number in Great Britain should be lim- 
 ited to live thousand ; the dignity for ever to be con- 
 ferred by the queen alone, who should be styled 
 sovereign of the order, and, the rest, the compa- 
 nions. 
 
 That the instalment should be rendered a thousand 
 times more ceremonious, the dresses more superb, 
 and the plumes more enormous, than those already 
 in use a»nongst the companions of the garter. 
 
 That the distinguishing badge of this order should 
 be an artificial nosegay, to be worn on the left breast ; 
 consisting of a lily and a rose, the proper emblems 
 
34 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 of complexion, and intermixed with a branch of 
 myrtle, the tree sacred to ^'enlls. 
 
 That instead of their shields being affixed to the 
 stalls appointed for this order, there should be a gal- 
 lery erected to receive their pictures at full length. 
 Their portraits to be taken by four painters of the 
 greatest eminence, and he whose painting was pre- 
 ferred, to be styled A knight of the rose and lily. 
 
 That when any person addressed a letter to a lady 
 of this order, the style should always be To the Right 
 beautiful Miss or Lady such-a-one. 
 
 He seemed for some time undetermined whether 
 they should forfeit their title upon marriage ; but at 
 length, for many reasons, proposed it should be con- 
 tinued to them. 
 
 And thus far the gentleman proceeded in his ha- 
 rangue ; when it was objected that the queen, unless 
 she unaccountably chose to mark out game for her 
 husband, could take no sort of pleasure in conferring 
 this honour where it was most due : That as ladies 
 grew in years, this epithet of beautiful would bur- 
 lesque them ; and, in short, considering the frailty 
 of beauty, there was no lasting compliment that 
 could be bestowed upon it. 
 
 ^ At this the orator smiled ; and acknowledged it 
 was true : But asked at the same time, why it was. 
 more absurd to style a lady right beautiful, in the 
 days of her deformity, than to term a peer right hon- 
 ourable when he grew a scandal to inankind ? 
 
 That this was sometimes the case, he said, was 
 not to be disputed ; because titles have been some- 
 times granted to a worthless son, in consequence of 
 a father's enormous wealth most unjustly acquired. 
 And fev/ had ever surpassed in viilany the right hon- 
 ourable the earl of A 
 
 The company was a little surprised at the sophis- 
 try of our declaimunt. However, it was replied to, 
 
AND MANNERS. 35 
 
 by a person present, that Lord 's title being fic- 
 titious, no one ought to instance him to the disad- 
 vantage of the p. ...rage, who had, strictly speaking, 
 never been of that number. 
 
 ON THE SAME SVE^ECr. 
 
 THE declaimant, I before mentioned, continu- 
 ed his harangue. There are, said he, certain epi- 
 thets which so frequently occur, that they are the less 
 considered ; and which are seldom or never exam- 
 ined, on account of the many opportunities of exami- 
 nation that present themselves. 
 
 Of this kind is the word Gentleman. This word, 
 on its first introduction, was given, I suppose, to 
 freemen, in opposition to vassals : these being the 
 two classes into which the nation was once divided*. 
 The freeman was he, who was possessed of land, 
 and could therefore subsist without manual labour ; 
 the vassal, he who tenanted the land, and was oblig- 
 ed to his thane for the necessaries of life. The dif- 
 ferent manners we may presume, that sprung from 
 their difi'erent situations and connexions, occasioned 
 the one to be denominated a civilized or gentle per- 
 sonage ; and the other to obtain the name of a mere 
 rustic or villain. 
 
 But upon the publication of crusades, the state of 
 things was considerably altered : It was then that 
 every freeman distinguished the shield which he wore 
 
 * As the author is not writing a treatise on the feudal law, 
 but a moral essay; any little inaccuracies, it is to be hoped, 
 will be overlooked by those, who, from several late treatises on 
 this subject, might expect great exactness and precision in a se- 
 rious discussion of this point. 
 
36 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 with some painted emblem or device ; and this, in 
 order that his fellow-combatants might attribute to 
 him his proper applause, which, upon account of si- 
 milar accoutrements, might be otherwise subject to 
 misapplication. 
 
 Upon this there arose a distinction betwixt free- 
 man and freeman. All who had served in those re- 
 ligious wars continued the use of their first devi- 
 ces, but all devices were not illustrated by the same 
 pretensions to military glory. 
 
 However, these campaigns were discontinued : 
 fresh families sprung up ; who, without any pretence 
 to mark themselves with such devices as these holy 
 combatants, were yet as desirous of respect, of esti- 
 mation, of distinction. It would be tedious enough to 
 trace the steps by which money establishes even ab- 
 surdity. A court of heraldry sprung up, to supply 
 the place of crusade exploits, to grant imaginary 
 shields and trophies to fdmiiies that never wore real 
 armour, and it is but of late that it has been disco- 
 vered to have no real jurisdiction. 
 
 Yet custom is not at once overthrown ; and he is 
 even now deemed a gentleman who has arms record- 
 ed in the Herald's office, and at the same time fol- 
 lows none, except a liberal employment. 
 
 Allowing this distinction, it is obvious to all who 
 consider, that a churlish, morose, illiterate clown ; 
 a lazy, beggarly, sharping vagabond ; a stupid, lub- 
 berly, inactive sot, or pick-pocket, nay even an high- 
 wayman, may be nevertheless a gentleman as by law 
 established. In short, that the definition may, to- 
 gether with others include also the filth, the scum, 
 and the dregs of the creation. 
 
 But do we not appear to disallow this account, when 
 we say, " such or such an action v/as not done in a 
 gentleman-like manner," " such usage was not the 
 behaviour of a gentleman," and so forth. We seem 
 thus to insinuate that the appellation of gentleman 
 
AND MANNERS. 57 
 
 regards morals as well as family ; and that integrity, 
 politeness, generosity, and affability, have the tru- 
 est claim to a distinction of this kind. Whence then 
 shall we suppose was derived this contradiction ? 
 Shall we say that the plebeians, having the virtues 
 on their sides, by degrees removed this appellation 
 from the basis of family to that of merit ; which 
 they esteemed, and not unjustly, to be the true and 
 proper pedestal ? This the gentry will scarce allow. 
 Shall we then insist that every thing great and god- 
 like was heretofore the achievement of the gentry ? 
 But this, perhaps, will not obtain the approbation of 
 the commoners. 
 
 To reconcile the difference, let us support the de- 
 nomination may belong equally to two sorts of men. 
 The one, what may be styled a gentleman de jure, 
 viz. a man of generosity, politeness, learning, taste, 
 genius or affability ; in short, accomplished in all 
 that is splendid, or endeared to us by all that is 
 amiable, on the one side : and on the other, a gen- 
 tleman de facto, or what, to English readers, I would 
 term a gentleman as by law established. 
 
 As to the latter appellation, what is really essen- 
 tial, or, as logicians would say, " quarto modo pro- 
 prium," is a real, or at least a specious claim to the 
 inheritance of certain coat-armour from a second or 
 more distant ancestor ; and this unstained by any 
 mechanical or illiberal employment. 
 
 We may discover, on this state of the case, that, 
 however material a difference this distinction supposes 
 yet it is not wholly impracticable for a gentleman de 
 jure to render himself in some sort a gentleman de 
 facto. A certain sum of money, deposited in the 
 hands of my good friends Norroy or Rougedragon, 
 will convey to him a coat of arms descending from 
 as many ancestors as he pleases. On the other hand, 
 the gentleman de facto may become a gentleman al- 
 so de jure, by the acquisition of certain virtues, 
 
 D 
 
38 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 which are rarely all of them unattainable. The lat- 
 ter, I must acknowledge, is the more difficult task ; 
 at least we may daily discover crowds acquire suffi- 
 cient wealth to buy gentility, but very few that pos- 
 sess the virtues which ennoble human nature, and 
 (in the best sense of the word) constitute a gentle- 
 man. 
 
 A CHAEACfER* 
 
 HE was a youth so amply furnished with every 
 excellence of mind, that he seemed alike capable of 
 acquiring or disregarding the goods of fortune. He 
 had indeed all the learning and erudition that can be 
 derived from universities, without the pedantry and 
 ill manners which are too often their attendants. 
 What few or none acquire by the most intense assi- 
 duity, he possessed by nature ; I mean, that elegance 
 of taste, which disposed him to admire beauty under 
 it's great variety of appearances. It passed not un- 
 observed by him either in the cut of a sleeve, or the 
 integrity of a moral action. The proportion of a sta- 
 tue, the convenience of an edifice, the movement in 
 a dance, and the complexion of a cheek or flower, af- 
 forded him sensations of beauty ; that beauty which 
 inferior geniuses are taught coldly to distinguish ; or 
 to discern rather than ftel. He could trace the ex- 
 cellencies both of the courtier and the student ; who 
 are mutually ridiculous in the eyes of each other. 
 He had nothing in his character that could obscure 
 so great accomplishments, beside the want, the total 
 want, of a desire to exhibit them. Through this it 
 came to pass, that what would have raised another 
 to the heights of reputation, was oftentimes in him 
 
AND MANXERS. SV 
 
 passed over unregarded. For, in respect to ordinary- 
 observers, it is requisite to lay some stress yourself, 
 on what you intend should be remarked by others ; 
 and this never was his way. His knowledge of books 
 had in some degree diminished his knowledge of the 
 world ; or, rather, the external forms and manners 
 of it. H isordinary conversation was, perhaps, rather 
 too pregnant with sentiment, the usual fault of rigid 
 students ; and this he would in some degree have 
 regulated better, did not the universality of his ge- 
 nius, together with the method of his education, so 
 largely contribute to this amiable defect. This kind 
 of awkwardness (since his modesty will allow it no 
 better name) may be compared to the stifCness of a 
 fine piece of brocade, whose turgescency indeed con- 
 stitutes, and is inseparable from, its value. He gave 
 delight by an happy boldness in the extirpation of 
 common prejudices ; which he could as readily pene- 
 trate, as he could humorously ridicule : and he had 
 such entire possession of the hearts as well as under- 
 standings of his friends, that he could soon make the 
 most surprising paradoxes believed and well-accept- 
 ed. His image, like that of a sovereign, could give 
 an additional value to the most precious ore ; and 
 we no sooner believed our eyes that it was he who 
 spake it, than we as readily believed whatever he had 
 
 to say. In this he differed from W r, that he 
 
 had tlie talents of rendering the greatest virtues un- 
 envied : whereas the latter shone more remarkably 
 in making his very faults agreeable : I meiui in re- 
 gard to those few he had to exercise his skill. 
 
 N. B. This v/as written, in an extempore-manner, 
 on my friend's wall at Oxford, with a black lead pen- 
 cil? 1735, and intended for his character. 
 
40 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ON RESERVE A FRAGMENf, 
 
 TAKING an evening's walk with a friend in the 
 country, among many grave remarks, he was making 
 the following observation. There is not, says he, 
 any one quality so inconsistent with respect, as what 
 is commonly called familiarity. You do not find 
 one in fifty, whose regard is proof against it. At 
 the same time, it is hardly possible to insist upon 
 such a deference as will render you ridiculous, if it 
 be supported by common sense. Thus much at least 
 is evident, that your demands will be so successful, 
 as to procure a greater share than if you had made 
 no such demand. I may frankly own to you, Lean- 
 der, that I frequently derived uneasiness, from a 
 familiarity with such persons as despised every thing 
 they could obtain with ease. Were it not better, 
 therefore, to be somewhat frugal of our affability, at 
 least to allot it only to the few persons of discernment 
 who can make the proper distinction betwixt real dig- 
 nity and pretended : to neglect those characters, which 
 being impatient to grow familiar, are at the same 
 time very far from familiarity-proof: to have post- 
 humous fame in view, which affords us the most plea- 
 sing landscape : to enjoy the amusement of reading, 
 and the consciousness that reading paves the way to 
 general esteem : to preserve a constant regularity of 
 temper, and also of constitution, for the most part 
 but little consistent with a promiscuous intercourse 
 with men : to shun all illiterate, though ever so jo- 
 vial assemblies, insipid, perhaps, when present, and 
 upon reflection painful : to meditate on those absent 
 or departed friends, who value or valued us for those 
 qualities with which they were best acquainted : to 
 partake with such a friend as you, the delights of a 
 studious and rational retirement.. ..Are not these the 
 paths that lead to happiness I 
 
AND MANNERS. 41 
 
 In answer to this (for he seemed to feel some mor- 
 tification) I observed, that what we lost by familiarity 
 in respect, was generally made up to us by the affec- 
 tion it procured ; and that an absolute solitude was so 
 very contrary to our natures, that were he excluded 
 from society but for a single fortnight, he would be 
 exhilarated at the sight of the first beggar that he saw. 
 
 What follows were thoughts thrown out in our fur- 
 ther discourse upon the subject : without order or 
 connexion, as they occur to my remembrance. 
 
 Some reserve is a debt to prudence ; as freedom, 
 and simplicity of conversation is a debt to good-nature. 
 
 There would not be any absolute necessity for re- 
 serve, if the world were honest: yet, even then, it 
 would prove expedient. For, in order to attain any 
 degree of deference, it seems necessary that people 
 should imagine you have more accomplishments than 
 you discover. 
 
 It is on this depends one of the excellencies of the 
 judicious Virgil. He leaves you something ever to 
 imagine : and such is the constitution of the human 
 mind, that we think, so highly of nothing, as of that 
 •whereof we do not see the bounds. This, as Mr. 
 Burke ingeniously observes, affords the pleasure 
 when we survey a Cylinder* ; and Sir John Suckling 
 says, 
 
 *' They who know all the wealth they have, are poor; 
 He's only rich, who cannot tell his store." 
 
 A person that would secure to himself great def- 
 erence, will, perhaps, gain his point by silence, as 
 effectually as by any thing he can say. 
 
 To be, however, a niggard of one's observation, 
 is so much worse than to hoard up one's money, as 
 the former may be both imparted and retained at the 
 same time. 
 
 * Treatise of the sublime and beauuful. 
 D3 
 
42 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 Men oftentimes pretend to proportion their respect 
 to real desert ; but a supercilious reserve and distance 
 wearies them into a compliance -with more. This 
 appears so very manifest to many persons of the lof- 
 ty character, that they use no better means to acquire 
 respect, than like hig-hwaymen to make a demand of 
 it. They will, like Empedocles, jump into the fire, 
 rather than betray the mortal part of their character. 
 
 It is from the same principle of distance that na- 
 tions are brought to believe that their great duke 
 knovveth all things; as is the case in some countries. 
 
 «' Men, while no human foi-m or fault they see, 
 
 Excuse the want of ev'n humanity; 
 
 And eastern kings, who vulgar views disdain. 
 
 Require no worth to fix their awful reign. 
 
 You cannot say in truth what may disgrace 'em. 
 
 You know in what predicament to place 'em. 
 
 Alas ! in all the glare of light reveal'd, 
 
 Ev'n virtue charms us less than vice conceal'd ! 
 
 " For some small worth he had, the man w^as priz'd. 
 He added frankness., ..and he grew despis'd." 
 
 We want comets, not ordinary planets : 
 
 «' Txdet quotidianarum harum formarum.'"' terenc^. 
 
 " Hunc cjelum, &, Stellas, & decendentia certls 
 Tempora momentis, sunt qui formidine nulla 
 Imbuti spectent." 
 
 Virtues, like essences, lose their fragrance when 
 exposed. They are sensitive plants, which will not 
 bear too familiar approaches. 
 
 Let us be careful to distinguish modesty, which is 
 ever amiable, from reserve, which is only prudent.... 
 A man is hated sometimes for pride, when it was an 
 excess of humility gave the occasion. 
 
 What is often' termed shyness, is nothing more 
 than refined sense, and an indifference to common 
 observations. 
 
AND MANNERS. 4-3 
 
 The reserved man's intimate acquaintance are, for 
 the most part, fonder of him, than the persons of a 
 more affable character, i. e. he pays them a greater 
 compliment than the other can do his, as he distin- 
 guishes them more. 
 
 It is indolence, and the pain of being upon one's 
 guard, that makes one hate an artful character. 
 
 The most reserved of men, that will not exchange 
 two syllables together in an English cofFee-house, 
 should they meet at Ispahan, would drink sherbet and 
 eat a mess of rice together. 
 
 The man of shew is vain : the reserved man is 
 proud more properly. The one has greater depth ; 
 the other a more lively imagination. ...The one is 
 more frequently respected ; the other more generally 
 beloved. The one a Cato : the other a Cxsar....Vide 
 Sallust. 
 
 What Cxsar said of " Rubicundos amo ; pallidos 
 timeo ;" may be applied to familiarity, and to re- 
 serve. 
 
 A reserved man often makes it a rule to leave com- 
 pany with a good speech : and I believe sometimes 
 proceeds so far as to leave company, because he has 
 made one. Yet it is fate often, like the mole, to 
 imagine himself deep, when he is near the surface. 
 
 "NVere it prudent to decline this reserve, and this 
 horror of disclosing foibles ; to give up apart of cha- 
 racter to secure the rest? The world will certainly 
 insist upon having some part to pull to pieces. Let 
 us throw out some follies to the envious ; as we give 
 up counters to a highwayman, or a barrel to a whale, 
 in order to save one's money and one's ship : to let 
 it make exceptions to one's head of hair, if one caa 
 escape being stabbed in the heart. 
 
 The reserved man should drink double glasses. 
 
 Prudent men lock up their motives ; letting fami- 
 liars have a key to their heart, as to their garden. 
 
44 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 A reserved man is in continual conflict with ihc 
 social part of his nature : and even grudges himself 
 the laugh into which he sometimes is betrayed. 
 
 ** Seldom he smiles.... 
 
 And smiles in such a sort as he disdain'd 
 
 Himself.. ..that could be mov'd to smile at any thing...." 
 
 " A fool and his words are soon parted ;" for so 
 should the proverb run. 
 
 Common understandings, like cits in gardening, 
 allow no shades to their picture. 
 
 Modesty often passes for errant haughtiness ; as 
 what is deemed spirit in a horse proceeds from fear. 
 
 The higher character a man supports, the more 
 he should regard his minutest actions. 
 
 The reserved man should bring a certificate of his 
 honesty, before he be admitted into company. 
 
 Reserve is no more essentially connected v/ith un- 
 derstanding, than a church organ with devotion, or 
 wine with good nature*. 
 
 ON EXTERNAL FIGURE* 
 
 THERE is a young gentleman in my parish, 
 who, on account of his superior equipage, is esteem- 
 ed universally more proud and haughty than his 
 neighbours. It is frequently hinted, that he is by 
 no means entitled to so splendid an appearance, either 
 by his birth, his station, or his fortune ; and that it 
 is of consequence mere pride that urges him to live 
 beyond his rank, or renders him blind to the know- 
 
 * These were no other than a collection of hints, when I 
 proposed to write a poetical essay on Reserve. 
 
AND MANNERS. 45 
 
 ledge of it. With all this fondness for external 
 splendour, he is a most affable and ingenious man ; 
 and for this reason I am inclined to vindicate him, 
 when these things are mentioned to his disadvantage. 
 
 In the first place, it is by no means clear, that dress 
 and equipage are sure signs of pride. Where it is 
 joined with a supercilious behaviour, it becomes then 
 a corroborative testimony. But this is not arlways 
 the case : the refinements of luxury in equipage, or 
 a table, are perhaps as often the gratifications of fan- 
 cy, as the consequence of an ambition to surpass and 
 eclipse our equals. Whoever thinks that taste has 
 nothing to do here, must confine the expression to 
 improper limits ; assuredly imagination may find its 
 account in them, wholly independent of worldly ho- 
 mage and considerations more invidious. 
 
 In the warmth of friendship for this gentleman, I 
 am sometimes prompted to go farther. I insist, it 
 is not birth or fortune only that give a i>erson claim 
 to a splendid appearance ; that it may be conferred 
 by other qualifications, in which my friend is ac- 
 knowledged to iaave a share. 
 
 I have sometime urged that remarkable ingenui- 
 ty, any great degree of merit in learning, arts or 
 sciences, are a more reasonable authority ibr a splen- 
 did appearance than those which are commonly pre- 
 sumed to be so. That there is something more per- 
 sonal in this kind of advantages than in rank or for- 
 tune, will not be denied : and surely there ought to 
 be some proportion observed betwixt the case and the 
 thing enclosed. The propensity of rich and worth- 
 less people to appear with a splendor upon all occa- 
 sions, puts us in mind of a country shopkeeper, who 
 gilds his boxes in order to be the receptacle of pitch 
 or tobacco. It is not unlike the management of our 
 theatres royal, where you see a piece of candle ho- 
 noured with a crown. 
 
46 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 I have generally considered those as privileged 
 people, who are able to support the character they 
 assume. Those who are incapable of shining but by 
 dress, would do well to consider that the contrast be- 
 twixt them and their cloaths turns out much to their 
 disadvantage. It is on this account I have sometimes 
 observed with pleasure some noblemen of immense 
 fsrtune to dress exceeding plain. 
 
 If dress be only allowable to persons of family, it 
 may then be considered as a sort of family livery, 
 and Jack the groom may, with equal justice, pride 
 himself upon the gaudy wardrobe his master gives 
 him. Nay more....for a gentleman, before he hires 
 •a servant, will require some testimony of his merit ; 
 whereas the master challenges his own right to splen- 
 dor, though possessed of no merit at all. 
 
 Upon my present scheme of dress, it may seem 
 to answer some very good purposes. It is then 
 established on the same foundation, as the judge's 
 robe and the prelate's lawn. If dress were only au- 
 thorised in men of ingenuity, we should find many 
 aiming at the previous merit, in hopes of the subse- 
 quent distinction. The finery of an empty fellow 
 would render him as ridiculous as a star and garter 
 ■would one never knighted : and men would use as 
 commendable a diligence to qualify themselves for a 
 brocaded waistcoat, or a gold snuff-box, as they now 
 do to procure themselves a right of investing their 
 limbs in lawn or ermine. We should not esteem 
 a man 'a coxcomb for his dress, until, by frequent con- 
 versation, we discover a Haw in his title. If he was 
 incapable of uttering a bon mot, the gold upon his 
 coat would seem foreign to his circumstances. A 
 man should not wear a French dress, till he could 
 give an account of the best French authors ; and 
 should be versed in all the oriental languages before 
 he should presume to wear a diamond. 
 
ANQ MANNERS. 47 
 
 It may be urged, that men of the greatest merit 
 may not be able to shew it in their dress, on account 
 of their slender income. But here it should be con- 
 sidered that another part of the world would find their 
 equipages so much reduced by a sumptuary law of 
 this nature, that a very moderate degree of splendor 
 would distinguish them more than a greater does at 
 present. 
 
 What I propose, however, upon the whole is, that 
 men of merit should be allowed to dress in propor- 
 tion to it ; but this with the privilege of appearing 
 plain, v/henever they found an expediency in so do- 
 ing : as a nobleman lays aside his garter, when he 
 sees no valuable consequence in the discovery of his 
 quality. 
 
 A CHARACTER* 
 
 •< Animje nil magnae laudis egentes." 
 
 THERE is an order of persons in the world, 
 whose thoughts never deviate from the common road ; 
 w hatever events occur, whatever objects present them- 
 selves, their observations are as uniform as thougU 
 they were the consequence of instinct. There is no- 
 thing places these men in a more insignificant point 
 of light, than a comparison of their ideas with the 
 refinements of some great genius. I shall only add, 
 by way of reflection, that it is people of this stamp, 
 who, together with the soundest health, often enjoy 
 the greatest equanimity ; their passions, like dull 
 steeds, being least apt to endanger or misguide them : 
 yet such is the fatality 1 Men of genius are often 
 
4S ESSAYS ON BIEN 
 
 expected to act with most discretion, on account of 
 that very fancy which is their greatest impediment. 
 
 I was taking a view of Westminster-abbey, with 
 an old gentleman of exceeding honesty, but the same 
 degree of understanding as that I have described. 
 
 There had nothing passed in our way thither, be- 
 side the customary salutations, and an endeavour to 
 decide with accuracy upon the present temperature of 
 the weather. On passing over the threshold, he ob- 
 served with an air of thoughtfulness, that it was a 
 brave ancient place. 
 
 I told him, I thought there was none more suita- 
 ble, to moralize upon the futility of all earthly glory, 
 as there was none which contained the ashes of men 
 that had acquired a greater share of it. On this he 
 gave a nod of approbation, but did not seem to com- 
 prehend me. 
 
 Silence ensued for many minutes ; when having; 
 had time to reflect upon the monuments of men fa- 
 mous in their generations, he stood collected in him- 
 self; assuring me " there was no sort of excellence 
 could exempt a man from death." 
 
 I applauded the justice of his observation ; and 
 said, it was not only my present opinion, but had 
 been so for a number of years. " Right," says he, 
 *' and for my own part I seldom love to publish my 
 remarks upon a subject, till I have had them con- 
 firmed to me by a long course of experience." 
 
 This last maxim, somewhat beyond his usual 
 depth, occasioned a silence of some few minutes. 
 The spring had been too much bent to recover im- 
 mediately its wonted vigour. We had taken some 
 few turns, up and down the left hand aisle, when he 
 caught sight of a monument somewhat larger than 
 the rest, and more calculated to make impression upon 
 an ordinary imagination. As I remember, it was rais- 
 ed to an ancestor of the Duke of Newcastle. " Well," 
 says he, with an air of cunning, " this is indeed a 
 
AND MANNER&. 49 
 
 fine piece of workmanship ; but I cannot conceive 
 this finery is any signilication to the person buried 
 there." I told him, I tliought not ; and that, under 
 a notion of respect to the deceased, people were fre- 
 quently imposed upon by their own pride and affec- 
 tation. 
 
 \\ e were now arrived at the monument of Sir 
 Georj^e Chamberlain ; where my friend had just pe- 
 rused enough to inform him that he was an eminent 
 physician, when he broke out with precipitation, and 
 as though some important discovery had struck his 
 fancy on a sudden. I listened to him with attention, 
 till I found him labouring to insinuate that physicians 
 themselves could not save their lives when their time 
 was come. 
 
 He had not proceeded many steps from it before 
 he beckoned to our Ciceroni. " Friend," says he, 
 pointing with his cane, '' how long has that gentle- 
 man been dead ?" The man set him right in that 
 particular ; afler which putting on a woeful counte- 
 nance, " Well," says he, " to behold how fast time 
 flies away 1 'lis but a small time to look back upon, 
 since he and I met at the Devil*. Alas, continued he, 
 " we shall never do so again :" indulging myself with 
 a pun that escaped me on a sudden, 1 told him 1 
 hoped not; and immediately took my leave. 
 
 This old gentleman, as I have since heard, passed 
 his life chielly in the country ; where it faintly par- 
 ticipated either of pleasure or of pain. His chief 
 delights indeed were sensual, but those of the less 
 vigorous kind; an afternoon's pipe, an evening walk, 
 or a nap after dinner. His death, which happened, 
 it seems, quickly after, was occasioned by an uniform 
 application to Bostock's cordial, whatever his case 
 required. Indeed his discourse, when any complain- 
 ed of sickness, was a little exuberant in the praises 
 
 * A well-known tavern near Temple-Bar. 
 E 
 
■50 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 of this noble cathartic. But his distemper proving 
 of a nature to which this remedy was wholly foreign, 
 as w^ell as this precluding the use of a more effectu- 
 al recipe, he expired, not without the character of a 
 most considerate person. I find, by one part of his 
 will, he obliged his heir to consume a certain quan- 
 tity of ale among his neighbours, on the day he was 
 born ; and by another, left a ring of bells to the 
 church adjoining to his garden. It looks as if the 
 old gentleman had not only an aversion to much re- 
 flection in himself, but endeavoured to provide against 
 it in succeeding generations. 
 
 I have heard that he sometimes boasted that he 
 Avas a distant relation of Sir Roger deCoverley. 
 
 JN OPINION OF GHOSl'S, 
 
 IT is remarkable how much the belief of ghosts 
 and apparitions of persons departed, has lost ground 
 within these fifty years. This may perhaps be ex- 
 plained by the general growth of knowledge ; and by 
 the consequent decay of superstition, even in those 
 kingdoms where it is most essentially interwoven 
 with religion. 
 
 The same credulity, which disposed the mind to 
 believe the miracles of a popish saint, set aside at 
 once the interposition of reason; and produced a 
 fondness for the marvellous, which it was the priest's 
 advantage to promote. 
 
 It may be natural enough to suppose that a belief 
 of this kind might spread in the days of popish in- 
 fatuation. A belief, as much supported by igr.o- 
 rance, as the ghosts themselves were indebted to the 
 night. 
 
AND MANNERS. 51 
 
 But whence comes it, that narratives of this kind 
 have at any time been given, by persons of veracity, 
 of judgment, and of learning ? men neither liable to 
 be deceived themselves, nor to be suspected of an 
 inclination to deceive others, though it were their 
 interest ; nor who could be supposed to have any 
 interest in it, even though it were their inclination ? 
 
 Here seems a further explanation wanting than 
 what can be drawn from superstition. 
 
 I go upon a supposition, that the relations them- 
 selves were false. For as to the arguments some- 
 times used in tliis case, that had there been no trvie 
 shilHng there had been no counterfeit, it seems whol- 
 ly a piece of sophistry. The true shilling here 
 should mean the living person ; and the counterfeit 
 resemblance, the posthumous figure of him, that 
 either strikes our senses or our imagination. 
 
 Supposing no ghost then ever appeared, is it a 
 consequence that no man could ever imagine that 
 they saw the figure of a person deceased ; Surely 
 those, who say this, little know the force, the ca- 
 price, or the defects, of the imagination. 
 
 Persons after a debauch of liquor, or under the 
 inlluence of terror, or in the deliriuof a fever, or in 
 a fit of lunacy, or even walking in tlieir sleep, have 
 had their brain as deeply impressed with chimerical 
 representations as they could possibly have been, had 
 theii' representations struck their senses. 
 
 I have mentioned but a few instances, wherein the 
 brain is primarily affected. Others may be given 
 perhaps not quite so common, where the stronger 
 passions, either acute or chronical, have impressed 
 their object upon the brain ; and this in so lively a 
 manner, as to leave the visionary no room to doubt 
 of their real presence. 
 
 How difficult then must it be to undeceive a per- 
 son as to objects thus imprinted? imprinted absolute- 
 ly with the same force as their eyes themselves could 
 
52 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 have poiirtrayed them ! and how many persons must 
 there needs be, who could never be undeceived at 
 all! 
 
 Some of these causes might not improbably have 
 given rise to the notion of apparitions, and when the 
 notion had been once promulgated, it had a natural 
 tendency to produce more instances. 
 
 The gloom of night, that was productive of ter- 
 ror, would be naturally productive of apparitions. 
 The event confirmed it. 
 
 The passion of grief for a departed friend, of hor- 
 ror for a murdered enemy, of remorse for a wrong- 
 ed testator, of love for (I mistress killed by inconstan- 
 cy, of gratitude to a wife of long fidelity, of desire 
 to be reconciled to one who died at variance, of im- 
 patience to vindicate what was falsely construed, of 
 propensity to consult with an adviser that is lost. ...The 
 more faint as well as the more powerful passions, when 
 bearing relation to a person deceased, have often, I 
 fancy, with concurrent circumstances, been sufficient 
 to exhibit the dead to the living. 
 
 lUit, what is more, there seems no other account 
 tliat is adequate to the case as I have stated it. Al- 
 low this, and you have at once a reason, why the most 
 upri,c;ht may iiave published a falsehood, and the most 
 judicious confirmed an absurdity. 
 
 Supposing then that apparitions of this kind may 
 have some real use in God's moral government : is 
 not any moral purpose, for which they may be em^ 
 ployed, as effectually answered on my supposition, 
 as the other? for surely it cannot be of any import- 
 ance, by what means the brain receives these ima- 
 ges. The effect, the conviction, and the resolution 
 consequent, may be just the same in either of the 
 cases. 
 
 Such appears, to me at least, to be the true exis- 
 tence of apparitions. 
 
AND MANNERS. 5J 
 
 The reasons against any external apparition, among 
 others that may be brought, are these that follow. 
 
 They are, I think, never seen by day ; and dark- 
 ness being the season of terror and uncertainty, and 
 the imagination less restrained, they are never visi- 
 ble to more than one person : which had more pro- 
 bably been the case, were not the vision internal. 
 
 They have not been reported to have appeared 
 these twenty years. What cause can be assigned, 
 were their existence real, for so great a change as 
 their discontinuance ? 
 
 The cause of superstition has lost ground for this 
 last century ; the notion of ghosts has been, together 
 exploded : a reason why the imagination should 
 be less prone to conceive them ; but not a reason why 
 they themselves should cease. 
 
 Most of those, who relate that these spectres have 
 appeared to them, have been persons either deeply 
 superstitious in other respects ; of enthusiastic ima- 
 ginations, or strong passions, which are the conse- 
 quence ; or else have allowedly felt some perturba- 
 tion at the time. 
 
 Some few instances may be supposed, where the 
 caprice of imaghiation, so very remarkable in dreams, 
 may have presented fantasms to those that waked. 
 I believe there are few but can recollect some, where- 
 in it has wrought mistakes, at least equal to that of 
 a white horse for a winding-sheet. 
 
 To conclude. As my hypothesis supposes the chi- 
 mera to give terror equal to the reality, our best 
 means of avoiding it, is to keep a strict guard over 
 our passions.... To avoid intemperance, as we v/ould a 
 charnel-house ; and by making frequent appeals to 
 cool reason and common sense, secure to ourselves 
 the property of a well-regulated imagination. 
 
 E 2 
 
54 KSSAYS ON MSN 
 
 Ci.Y CARDS A FltAGMEN'T, 
 
 WE had passed our evening- with some certain 
 
 persons famous for their taste, their learning, and re- 
 finement: But, as ill-luck would have it, two fellows, 
 duller than the rest, had contrived to put themselves 
 upon a level, by introducing a game at cards. 
 
 It is a sign, said he, the world is far gone in ab- 
 surdity, or surely the fashion of cards v.ould be ac- 
 counted no small one. Is it not surprising that men 
 of sense should submit to join in this idle custom, 
 >vhich appears originally invented to supply its defi- 
 ciency ? But such is the fatality ! imperfections 
 give rise to fashions 1 and are followed by those w ho 
 do not labour under the defects that introduced them. 
 Nor is the hoop the only instance of a fashion inven- 
 ted by those who found their account in it; and af- 
 terwards countenanced by others to whose figure it 
 was prejudicial. 
 
 How can men, who value themselves upon their 
 reilections, give encouragement to a practice, which 
 puts an end to thinking ? 
 
 I intimated the old allusion of the bow, that requires 
 fresh vigour by a temporary relaxation. 
 
 He answered, this might be applicable, provided I 
 could shew, that cards did not require the pain of 
 thinking ; and merely exclude from it, the profit and 
 the pleasure. 
 
 Cards, if one may guess from their first appear- 
 ance, seem invented for the use of children ; and 
 among the toys peculiar to infancy, the bells, the 
 vrhistle, the rattle, and the hobby-horse, deserved 
 their share of commendation. By degrees men, who 
 came nearest to children in understanding and want 
 of ideas, grew enamoured of the use of them as a suit- 
 able entertainment. Others also, pleased to reflect 
 on the innocent part of their lives, had recourse to 
 
AND MANNERS. 55 
 
 this arnusement, as what recalled it to their minds. 
 A knot of villains encreased the party ; who regard- 
 less of that entertainment, which the former seemed 
 to draw from cards, considered them in a more seri- 
 ous light, nnd m.ade use of them as a more decent 
 substitute to robbing on the road, or picking pock- 
 ets. But men who propose to themselves a dignity 
 of character, where will you find their inducement 
 to this kind of game ? For difficult indeed were it to 
 determine, whether it appear more odious among 
 sharpers, or more empty and ridiculous among per- 
 sons of character. 
 
 Perhaps, replied I, your men of wit and fancy may 
 favour this diversion, as giving occasion for the crop 
 of jest and witticism, which naturally enough arises 
 from the names and circumstances of the cards. 
 
 He said, he would allow this as a proper motive, 
 in case the men of wit and humour would accept the 
 excuse themselves. 
 
 In short, says he, as persons of ability are capable 
 of furnishing out a much more agreeable entertain- 
 ment ; when a gentleman offers me cards, I shall es- 
 teem it as his private opinion that I have neither sense 
 nor fancy. 
 
 I asked how much he had lost His answer was, 
 
 he did not much regard ten pieces ; but that it hurt 
 him to have squandered them away on cards ; and that 
 to the loss of conversation for which he would have 
 given twenty. 
 
56 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ON HTPOCRISr, 
 
 WERE hypocrites to pretend to no uncommon 
 sanctity, their want of merit would be less discover- 
 able. But pretensions of this nature bring- their 
 characters upon the carpet. Those who endeavour 
 to pass for the lights of the world must expect to at- 
 tract the eyes of it. A small blemish is more easily 
 discoverable in them, and more justly ridiculous, 
 than a much greater in their neighbours. A small 
 blemish also presents a clue, which very often con- 
 ducts us through the most intricate mazes and dark 
 recesses of their character. 
 
 Notwithstanding the evidence of this, how often do 
 we see pretence cultivated in proportion as virtue is 
 neglected ! As religion sinks in one scale, pretence 
 is exalted in the other. 
 
 Perhaps, there is not a more effectual key to the 
 discovery of hypocrisy than a censorious temper. 
 The man possessed of real virtue knows the difficul- 
 ty of attaining it ; and is, of course, more inclined to 
 pity others, who happen to fail in the pursuit. The 
 hypocrite, on the other hand, having never trod thfe 
 thorny path, is less induced to pity those who desert 
 it for the flowery one. He exposes the unhappy vic- 
 tim without compuction, and even with a kind of tri- 
 umph ; not considering that vice is the proper object 
 of compassion ; or that propensity to censure is al- 
 most a worse quality than any it can expose. 
 
 Clelia was born in England, of Romish parents, 
 about the time of the revolution. She seemed natu- 
 rally framed for love, if you were to judge by her 
 external beauties ; but if you build your opinion on 
 her outward conduct, you would have deemed her as 
 naturally averse to it. Numerous were the gar^ons 
 of the polite and gallant nation, who endeavoured to 
 overcome her prejudices, and to reconcile her man* 
 
AND MANNERS. 57 
 
 ners to her form. Persons of rank, fortune, learning", 
 wit, youth, and beauty sued to her ; nor had she any 
 reason to quarrel with love for the shapes in whicli 
 he appeared before her. Yet in vain were all appli- 
 cations. Religion was her only object ; and she 
 seemed resolved to pass her days in all the austeri- 
 ties of the most rigid convent. To this purpose she 
 sought out an abbess that presided over a nunnery in 
 Languedoc, a small community, particularly remark- 
 able for extraordinary instances of self-denial. The 
 abbess herself exhibited a person in which chastity 
 appeared indeed not very meritorious. Her charac- 
 ter was perfectly well known before she went to pre- 
 side over this little society. Her virtues were indeed 
 such as she thought mos'. convenient to her circum- 
 stances. Her fasts were the effects of avarice, and 
 her devotions of the spleen. She considered the 
 cheapness of house-keeping as the great reward of 
 piety, and added profuseness to the seven deadly sins. 
 She knew sack-cloth to be cheaper than brocade, and 
 ashes than sweet powder. 
 
 Her heart sympathized with every cup that was 
 broken, and she instituted a fast for each domestic 
 misfortune. She had converted her larder into a stu- 
 dy, and the greater part of her library consisted of 
 manuals for fasting-days. By these arts, and this 
 way of life, she seemed to enjoy as srreat a freedom 
 from inordinate desires, as the persons might be sup- 
 posed to do, who were favoured with her smiles or 
 her conversation. 
 
 To this lady was Clelia admitted; and after the 
 year of probation assumed the veil. 
 
 Among many others who had solicited her notice, 
 before she became a member of this convent, was 
 Leander, a young physician of great learning and 
 ingenuity. His personal accomplishments were at 
 least equal to those of any of his rivals, and his pas- 
 sion was superior. He urged in his behalf all that 
 
58 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 wit, inspired by fondness, and recommended by per- 
 son, dress, and equipage, could insinuate ; but in 
 vain. She grew angry at the solicitations with which 
 she resolved never to comply, and which she found 
 so difficult to evade. 
 
 But Clelia now had assumed the veil, and Lean- 
 der was the most miserable of mortals. He had not 
 so high an opiir'on of his fair one's sanctity and 2eal, 
 as some other of her admirers : But he had a convic- 
 tion of her beauty, and that altogether irresistible. 
 His extravagant passion had produced in him a jea- 
 lousy that was not easily eluded, 
 
 " At regina dolos 
 
 " Quid non sentit amor ?" 
 
 He had observed his mistress go more frequently 
 to her confessor, a young and blooming ecclesiastic, 
 than was, perhaps, necessary for so much apparent 
 purity, or, as he thought, consistent with it. It was 
 enough to put a lover on the rack, and it had this ef- 
 fect upon Lcander. His suspicions were by no means 
 lessened, when he found the convent to which Clelia 
 had given the preference before all others, was one 
 where this young friar supplied a confessional chair. 
 
 It happened that Leander was brought to the ab- 
 bess in the capacity of a physician, and he had one 
 more opportunity offered him of beholding Clelia 
 through the grate. 
 
 She, quite shocked at his appearance, burst out 
 into a sudden rage, inveighing bitterly against his 
 presumption, and calling loudly on the name of the 
 blessed virgin and the holy friar. The convent was, 
 in short, alarmed ; nor was Clelia capable of being 
 pacified till the good man was called, in order to al- 
 lay, by suitable applications, the emotions raised by 
 this unexpected interview. 
 
 Leander grew daily more convinced, that it was 
 not only verbal communications which passed be- 
 
AND MANNERS. 59 
 
 tween Clelia and the friar. This, however, he did 
 not think himself fully warranted to disclose, till an 
 accident of a singular nature, gave him an opportu- 
 nity of receiving more ample testimony. 
 
 The confessor had a favourite spaniel, which he 
 had lost for some time, and was informed at length 
 that he was killed, at a village in the neighbourhood, 
 being evidently mad. The friar was at first not 
 much concerned ; but in a little time recollected that 
 the dog had snapped his fingers the very day before 
 his elopement. A physician's advice was thought 
 expedient on the occasion, and Leander was the next 
 physician. He told him with great frankness, that 
 no prescription he could write, had the sanction of 
 so much experience as immersion in sea-water. 
 The friar, therefore, the next day, set forward upon 
 his journey, while Leander, not without a mischiev- 
 ous kind of satisfaction, conveys the following lines 
 to Clelia. 
 
 " My charming Clelia, 
 THOUGH I yet love you to distraction, I can- 
 not but suspect that you have granted favours to your 
 confessor, which you might with greater innocence, 
 have granted to Leander. All I have to add is this, 
 that armorous intercourses of this nature, which 
 you have enjoyed with Friar Laurence, put you un- 
 der the like necessity with him of seeking a remedy 
 in the ocean. 
 
 " Adieu ! Leander I" 
 
 Imagine Clelia guilty ; and then imagine her con- 
 fusion. To rail was insignificant, and to blame her 
 physician was absurd, when she found herself under 
 a necessity of pursuing his advice. The whole so- 
 ciety was made acquainted with the journey she was 
 undertaking, and the causes of it. It were unchari- 
 table to suppose the whole community under the 
 
60 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 same constraint with the unhappy Clelia. However, 
 the greater part thought it decent to attend her. 
 Some went as her companions, some for exercise, 
 some for amusement, and the abbess herself as guar- 
 dian of her train, and concerned in her society's 
 misfortunes. 
 
 What use I.eander made of his discovery is not 
 known. Perhaps, when he had been successful in 
 banishing the hypocrite, he did not shew himself ve- 
 ry solicitous in his endeavours to reform the sinner. 
 
 N. B. Written when I went to be dipped in the 
 salt water. 
 
 ON VANIfY* 
 
 HISTORY preserves the memory of empires 
 and of states, with which it necessarily interweaves 
 that of heroes, kings, and statesmen. Biography af- 
 fords a place to the remarkable characters of private 
 men. There are likewise other subordinate testimo- 
 nies, which serve to perpetuate, at least prolong, the 
 memories of men, whose characters and stations give 
 them no claim to a place in story. For instance, 
 M'hen a person fails of making that figure in the world 
 which he makes in the eyes of his own relations or 
 himself, he is rarely dignified any farther than with 
 his picture whilst he is living, or with an inscription 
 upon his monument after his decease. Inscriptions 
 have been so fallacious, that we begin to expect lit- 
 tle from them beside elegance of style. To inveigh 
 against the writers, for their manifest want of truth, 
 were as absurd as to censure Homer for the beauties 
 
 of an imaginary character But even paintings, in 
 
 order to gratify the vanity of the person who be- 
 
AND MANNERS. 61 
 
 speaks them, are taught, now-a-days, to flatter like 
 epitaphs. 
 
 Falsehoods upon a tomb or iDonument may be in- 
 titled to some excuse in the afi'ection, the gratitude, 
 and piety, of surviving friends. Even grief itself dis- 
 poses us to magnify the virtues of a relation, as visi- 
 ble ol)jects also appear larger through tears. lUit 
 the man who through an idle vanity suffers his fea- 
 tures to be belied or exchanged for others of a more 
 agreeable make, may with great truth be said to lose 
 his property in the portrait. In like manner, if he 
 encourage the painter to belie his dress, he seenis to 
 transfer his claim to the man with whose station his 
 assumed trappings are connected. 
 
 I remember a bag-piper, whose physiognomy was 
 so remarkable and familiar to a club he attended, 
 that it w^as agreed to have his picture placed over 
 their chimney-piece. There was this remarkable in 
 the fellow, that he chose always to go barefoot, though 
 he was daily offered a pairof shoes. However, when 
 the painter had been so exact as to omit this little piece 
 of dress, the fellow offc:red all he had in the world, 
 the whole produce of three night's harmony, to have 
 those feet covered in the effigy, which he so much 
 scorned to cover in the original. Perhaps he thought 
 it a disgrace to his instiument to be eternized in the 
 hands of so much apparent poverty. However, when 
 a person of low station adorns himself with tro- 
 phies to which he has no pretensions to aspire, he 
 should consider the picture as actually telling a lie to 
 posterity. 
 
 The absurdity of this is evident, if a person as- 
 sume to himself a mitre, a blue garter, or a coro- 
 net, improperly ; but station maybe falsified by other 
 decorations, as well as these. 
 
 But I am driven into this grave discourse, on a 
 subject perhaps not very important, by a real fit of 
 spleen. 1 this morning saw a fellow drawn in a 
 
 F 
 
6S ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 night-gown of so rich a stuff, that the expence, had 
 he purchased such a one, would more than half have 
 ruined hinn ; and another coxcomb, seated by his 
 pciinter in a velvet chair, who would have been sur- 
 prised at the deference paid him, had he been offer- 
 ed a cushion. 
 
 A'N ADVENTURE, 
 
 " Gaudent prsenomine molles 
 
 «• Auriculae" 
 
 IT is a very conA'enient piece of knowledge for 
 a person upon a journey, to know the compeliations 
 with which it is proper to address those he happens 
 to meet by his way. Some accuracy here may be 
 of use to him who would be well directed either in 
 the length or the tendency of his road; or be freed 
 from any itinerary difficulties incident to those who 
 do not know the country. It may not be indeed im- 
 prudent to accost a passenger with a title superior 
 to what he may appear to claim. This will seldcm 
 fail -i diffuse a wonderful alacrity in his countenance ; 
 and be, perhaps, a method of securing you from 
 any mistake of greater importance. 
 
 i was ltd into tliese observations by some solici- 
 tudes I lately underwent, on account of my ignorance 
 in these peculiarities. Beingsomewhat more versed 
 in books than I can pretend to be in the orders of 
 men, it was my fortune to undertake a journey, 
 which I was to perform by means of enquiries. I 
 had passed a number of miles without any sort of 
 difficulty, by help of the manifold instructioiis that 
 had been given me on my setting out. At length, 
 
AND MANNERS. 53 
 
 bein£^ som*jthing dubious concerning my way, I met 
 a person, whom, from his night-cap and several do- 
 mestic p.vrts of dress, I deemed to be of the nei:^h- 
 bourhood. His station of life appeared to me, to be 
 what we call a gentleman-farmer ; a sort of subaU 
 tern character, in respect of which the world seems 
 not invariably determined. It is in short what King 
 Charles the Second esteemed the happiest of all sta- 
 tions ; superior to the toilsome task and ridiculous 
 dignity of constable ; and as much inferior to the 
 intricate practice and invidious decisions of a justice, 
 of peace. " Honest man," says I, " be so good as 
 to inform me whether I am in the way to Mirling- 
 ton ?" He replied, with a sort of surliness, that he 
 knew nothing of the matter ; and turned away with 
 as much disgust, as though I had called him rogue 
 or rascal. 
 
 I did not readily penetrate the cause of his displea- 
 sure, but proceeded on my way, with hopes to liiid 
 other means of information. The next I met was a 
 young fellow, dressed in all the pride of rural spruce- 
 njss; and beside him, walked a girl in a dress 
 agreeable to that of her companion. As I presumed 
 him by no means averse to appear considerable in 
 the eyes of his mistress, I supposed a compliment 
 might not be disagreeable ; auvl enquiring Vac road 
 to Mirlington, addressed him by the name of '* Mon- 
 City." I'he fellow, whether to shew his wit befo;-e 
 his mistress, or whether he was displeased with 
 my familiarity, I cannot tell, directed nje to foll(;w a 
 part of my face (which I was well assured could be no 
 guide to me, and that other parts would foiiow of 
 co.'ise(|Uence. 
 
 'i'i)e next I met, appeared, by his look and gait, to 
 stand high in his own opinion. I therefore judged 
 the best way of proceeding was to adupt my phrase 
 to his own ideas, and saluting him by the nan<e of 
 *' Sir," desired to obtain ionie insight into my road. 
 
64 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 My gentleman, uithoiit hesitation, gave me ample 
 instructions for the rest of my journey. 
 
 I passed on, musing with myself, \v!iy an appel- 
 lation relative to fortune should be preferred to one 
 founded on merit ; when I happened to behold a gen- 
 tleman examining a sun-dial in his garden. " Friend," 
 says I, " will you ttU me what a clock it is ?" He 
 made me no sort of answer, and seemed as much dissa- 
 tisfied with my openness of temper, as with the con- 
 fidence 1 placed in his. ...The refusal of an answer in 
 this case was not of much importance. I proceed- 
 ed on my way, and happened to meet a very old wo- 
 man, whom I determined to accost by the appella- 
 tion of " Dame ;" and withal wished her a good 
 night. 
 
 But, alas ! she seemed so little pleased with the 
 manner of my address, that she returned me no man- 
 ner of thanks for my kind wishes as to her repose. 
 It is not clear whether my phrase was faulty, in regard 
 to lier dignity, or in respect of her age. But it is 
 very probable she might conclude it an impropriety 
 in respect of both. 
 
 I had by this time found the inconvenience of an 
 utter ignorance in rural distinctions. The future part 
 of my journey afforded me yet farther mt-ansof con- 
 viction. I was exposed to the danger of three quick- 
 sands, by calling a girl " sweetheart," instead of 
 " madam ;" and was within a foot of rushing down 
 a precipice, by calling another, " Forsooth," wiio 
 might easily have told me how to avoid it. 
 
 In short, 1 found myself well or ill used, as I hap- 
 pened, or TiOt, to suit my salutations to people's ideas 
 of thtir own rank. Towards the last part of my 
 stage, I was to pass a brook, so much swelled by 
 land-floods, that the proper way through it was un- 
 distinguishuble. A w ell-dressed gentleman was pas- 
 sing kI bridge on my left hand. It was hereof much 
 importance for \\\c to succeed in my enquiry. I ^^as, 
 
AND MANNERS. 65 
 
 therefore, meclitating within myself which might be 
 the most endearing* of all uppellutions ; and at 
 last besought him to give me some ihslructions, un- 
 <:ler the nan- of '' Honest Friend." He was not seem- 
 ingly so much pleased as I assured myself he would 
 be, and trudged onward without reply. Alter this, I 
 had not gone many steps (out of the path, for so it 
 proved) before 1 found mystlf and horse plunged 
 headlong in the brook; and my late honest friend in 
 a laughter at our downfall. 
 
 I made a shift, however, to recover both myself 
 and horse ; and, after a few more difficulties, arriv- 
 ed at tlie end of my journey. I have since made 
 strict enquiry into the due application of such infe- 
 rior titles, and may, perhaps, communicate them to 
 you, on some future occasions. In the mean time, 
 you may, if you please, consider the vast importance 
 of superior titles, when there is no one so incon- 
 siderable, but there is also a mind that it can influ- 
 ence. 
 
 When you reflect upon this subject, you .'ill, per- 
 haps, be less severe on your friend , who, you 
 
 tell me, is now trafficing for this species of dignity. 
 
 Learn to be wise then from others harm ; and do 
 not forget to observe decorum, on every occasion 
 that you may have to address him for the future. 
 Pretend no more at the close of your epistle to be his 
 faithful servant, much less his afiectionate one. Ten- 
 der your services with great respect, if you do not 
 choose to do it with profound veneration. He will 
 certainly have no more to do with sincerity and truth. 
 Remember, 
 
 " Male si palpeve, recalcitrut.'* 
 F 2 
 
C6 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ON MODESfr AND IMPUDENCE, 
 
 WHEN a man of genius does not print, he 
 discovers hiinsclf by nothing more than by his abi- 
 lities in dispute. However let him shew solidity in 
 his opinions, together with ease, elegance, and viva- 
 city in his expressions ; yet if an impudent f«ce be 
 found to baffle him, he shall be judged inferior in 
 other respects. 1 mean, he will grow cheap in mix- 
 ed company : for as to select judges, tliey will form 
 their opinions by another scale : with these, a single 
 epistle, penned with propriety, will more eiTectu- 
 ally prove his wit, than an hundred defects in his 
 conversation will demonstrate the reverse. 
 
 It is true, there is nothing displays a genius, I 
 mean a quickness of genius, more than a dispute ; 
 as two diamonds, encountering, contribute to each 
 other's lustre. But perhaps the odds is much against 
 the man of taste in this particular. 
 
 Bashfulness is more frequently connected with good 
 sense, than we find assurance : and impudence, on 
 the other hand, is often the mere effect of downright 
 stupidity. On this account the man of genius has 
 as much the advantage of his antagonist, as a race- 
 horse, carrying a small weight, has over his rival that 
 bears v. larger : modesty, like the weight to which I 
 aiUide, not suffering its owner to exert its real 
 strength ; which eilVontery is allowed to do, without 
 let or impediment. 
 
 It may be urged, and justly enough, that it is com- 
 mon to be partial to the modest man ; and that dif- 
 fidence makes good amends for any restraint it lays 
 us under, by the prejudice it gives every hearer in 
 our favour. But indeed this can only happen, where 
 it n\eets with the most ingenuous judges. Other- 
 wise a laugh will carry the day, v.ith which the ig- 
 norant side is generally best accommodated. 
 
AND MANNERS. 67 
 
 In order to put these antagonists upon a some- 
 what more equal fooling, I have invented the follow- 
 ing instrument ; for the sole structure and sale of 
 which, I am not without hopes of procuring a pat- 
 ent. What I mean, is an artiticial laugher. There 
 are few so little conversant in toys, but must have 
 seen instruments mechanically framed to counterfeit 
 the voices of different birds. The quail-pipe is 
 brought to such perfection as even to delude the ve- 
 ry species. The cuckow has been mimicked with no 
 less accuracy. Would it not then be an easy matter 
 to represent the laugh of this empty tribe, which has 
 in itself something artificial ; and is not more affected 
 than it is particular? For the convenience of the 
 person that bears it, its dimensions should be so con- 
 trived as that it might be played on in his pocket. 
 Does it not seem feasible, that a laughter of this kind 
 may be brought to answer every purpose of that noise 
 wliich n resembles ? If tiiere be occasion for an ex- 
 pletive, let the owner seek it in his fob; as his an- 
 tagonist would find his account in a loud oa'h or an 
 empty pun. If there be need of a good sounding ca- 
 dence at the close of a common period, it may not be 
 amiss to harmonize a sentence by what may be cal- 
 led a finishing stroke. This instrument is so con- 
 trived as to produce all the variety of an human 
 laugh ; and this variation is to be regulated, not by 
 the nature of your subject, nor the wit or humour of 
 a repartee, but by the disposition of the company, 
 and the proper minute for such an interlude. But 
 to become a master of the said machine, let the can- 
 didate for applause frequent the company of vocife- 
 rous disputants ; among whom he may boon learn how 
 to perform a conversation. 
 
 One or two of these instruments I ha^e already fin- 
 ished, though not indeed to the perfection at wiiich I 
 expect they may soon arrive. A gentleman visited 
 me the other day, who has the justcst claim that can 
 
68 
 
 ESSAYS ON MEIf 
 
 be, to the use of them; having nothing in his cha- 
 racter that can obscure the greatest merit, but the 
 greatest modesty. I communicated my invention, 
 desiring him to make trial of it, on the first occasion. 
 He did so ; and when I saw him next, gave me leave 
 to publish the following account of its efficacy in my 
 next advertisement. The first time I employed it, 
 said my friend, was in a sort of controversy with a 
 beau ; who had contrived means, by the use of his 
 snuff-box, to supply both want of language and of 
 thought. In this manner he prolonged Ins argument ; 
 and really to the company which consisted of ladies, 
 discovered more sagacity without thinking, than I 
 could do by its assistance. I bethought myself im- 
 iTiediately of your instrument, and had recourse to it. 
 I observed in what part of his discourse he most em- 
 ployed his fingers, and had suddenly recourse to mine 
 with equal emphasis and significancy. The art was 
 not discovered, ere I had routed my antagonist ; ha- 
 ving seated myself in a dark corner, where my ope- 
 rations were not discernible. I observed, that as he 
 found himself more closely pressed, he grew more 
 and more assiduous in his application to his snuff- 
 box, much as an otter closely pursued is forced to 
 throw up bubbles that show his distress. I therefore 
 discovered gradually less occasion for speaking ; and 
 for thinking, none at all. I played only a flourish in 
 answer to the argument at his finger's ends; and af- 
 ter a while found him as mortal in this part as in any 
 other. When his cause was just expiring, after a 
 Very long pursuit, and many fruitless turnmgs and 
 evasions in the course of it, I sounded my instru- 
 ment, with as much alacrity as a huntsman does his 
 horn on the death of an hare. 
 
 The next whom I engaged was a more formidable 
 disputant ; and I own, with a sense of gratitude, that 
 your instrument alone could render me a match for 
 him. His strength of argument was his strength of 
 
AND MANNERS. 69 
 
 lungs ; and he was, unquestionably, an iible antago- 
 nist. However, if your machine put me upon a par 
 with him, 1 think T may say without vanity, that in 
 point of reason, I had the upper hand. I shall only 
 add that as it was habitual for him to answer argu- 
 ments by vociferation, so it became needless for me 
 to give him any answer of a better kind. 
 
 Thus far my friend: I do not question but there 
 will appear artists, that shall undertake to instruct 
 the dii!ident, the submissive, and the bashful, how to 
 perform the whole gamut of oratorical and risible 
 music : and as there is a kind of humourous laughter, 
 which draws all others into its own vortex, I need 
 not here assert that I would have this branch very 
 much inculcated. 
 
 Neither is this instrumentof importance in dispute 
 alone, or controversy ; but wherever one man's fa- 
 culties are more- prone to laughter than another's. 
 Trifles will burst one man's sides, which will not dis- 
 turb the features of another ; and a laugh one cannot 
 join, is almost as irksome as a lamentation. It is 
 like a peal rung after a wedding ; where a whole pa- 
 rish shall be stunned with noise, because they want 
 that occasion to rejoice, which the persons at least 
 imagine to be their lot, that occasioned it. The 
 sounds are pleasing to their ears, who find them con- 
 formable to their own ideas; but those v/ho are not 
 in temper, or unconcerned, find them a stupifying 
 repeii icn. 
 
 When therefore my mind is not in tune with ano-r 
 ther's, what strikes his, will not vibrate on mine. All 
 1 then have to do, is to counterfeit a laugh ; which 
 is an operation as artificial, as tlie machine I have 
 been describing. 
 
'?© ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ^HE HlSfORr OF DON PEDRO 
 
 THE actions of our lives, even those we call most 
 important, seem as much subject to trifles, as our 
 very lives themselves. We frame many notable pro- 
 jects in ilTiagi nation, and promise to ourselves an 
 e.|uul term of life. It is however in the power of the 
 minutest accident, to shorten the one, and disconcert 
 the other. It is with mankind as with certain fire- 
 engines, whose motion may be stopped in the midst 
 of its rapidity, by the interposition of straw in a par- 
 ticular part of them. 
 
 The following translation from the orig-inal Span- 
 ish, will suificiently illustrate the foregoint;- assertion. 
 Don Pedro **** was one of the principal grandees 
 cf his age and country. He had a genius equal to 
 his birth, and a disposition remarkably contemplative. 
 It was his custom, on this account, to retire from the 
 world at stated periods, and to indulge himself in all 
 the mazes of a fme imagination. It happened as he 
 one day sut in his study, that he fixed his eye on a 
 neighbouring spider. The most triviul object (if any 
 natural object can be termed so) served him frequent- 
 ly for the foundation of some moral and sublime re- 
 jection. He surveyed the creature atten<:ively, and 
 indulged the bias of his thouglit, till he was lost in 
 the excursions of a profound reverie. The curious 
 workmanship of this unregarded animal brought at 
 once into his mind the whole art of fortilication. He 
 observed the deficiency of human skill, and that no 
 cunning could have contrived her so proper an habi- 
 tation. He found that no violence could affect the 
 extremities of her lines, but what was immediately- 
 perceptible, and liable to alarm her at the centre. 
 lie observed the road by which she sullied forth, serv- 
 ed to convey intelligence from without, at the same 
 time that it added strength and sti^Lility to the work 
 
AND ilANNERS* 
 
 n 
 
 within. He was at once surprised and pleased with 
 an object which, although common, he happened not 
 to have beheld in the same light, or with the same 
 attention. From this instant he bent his thoughts 
 upon the advancement of military fortification : and 
 he often would declare it was this trivial incident, 
 that gave him a relish for that study, which he after- 
 wards pursued with such application and success. 
 
 He spent in short so much time upon the attain- 
 ment of this science, that he grew as capal)le of ex- 
 ecuting any part of it, as speculation alone could ren- 
 der him. Nothing wanted now, but practice to com- 
 plete the fame of his abilities. That in short was 
 his next pursuit. He became desirous of experien- 
 cing, what had been so successful in imagination, 
 and to make those moral sallies, vvhich had been at- 
 tended there with victory. To this end he had little 
 to do, but excite the ambition of his young monarch; 
 to enforce, by testimony of his friends, his qualifi- 
 cations for the post he sought ; and, on the first de- 
 livery of his petition, to obtain preferment from the 
 king. 
 
 This happened to be a time of the profoundest 
 tranquillity : little agreeable to a person eager of glo- 
 ry, furnished with skill, and conscious of abilities. 
 Such was this ingenious nobleman. He well knew 
 the ambition of princes, and of his monarch in par- 
 ticular. But he was not acquainted with his own. 
 That imperious and subtle passion is often most pre- 
 dominate when it is least perceived. When it once 
 prevails in any great degree, we and our reason grow 
 subservient, and, instead of checking or contradict- 
 ing, it stoops to flatter and to authorize it. Instead 
 of undeceiving, she confirms us in our error; and 
 even levels the mounds, and smooths the obstruc- 
 tions, which it is her natural province to interpose. 
 This was the case of Don Pech'o. The delicacy of 
 his taste encreased his sensibility ; and his sensibili- 
 
72 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ty made him more a slave. The mind of man, like 
 the finer parts of matter, the more delicate it is, na- 
 turally admits the more deep and the more visible 
 impressions. The purest spirits are the soonest apt 
 to take flame. Let us therefore be the more candid 
 to him, on account of the vivacity of his passions, 
 seduced, as indeed he was into very unwarrantable 
 schemes. 
 
 He had in brief conceived a project, to give his 
 master an universal monarchy. He had calculated 
 every article with the utmost labour and precision, 
 and intended within a few days, to present his project 
 to the king. 
 
 Spain was then in a state of affluence ; had a large 
 army on foot ; together with means and opportuni- 
 ties of raising an immense one. It were impossible 
 to answer for the possible events, that might destroy 
 their hopes of such an enterprize. Dfficulty often 
 attends the execution of things the most feasible and 
 well contrived in theory. But whoever was accquaint- 
 ed with the author of this project, knew the posture 
 of affairs in Europe at that lime, the ambition of the 
 prince, and the many circumstances that conspired 
 to favour it, might have thought the project would 
 have been agreed to, put in practice, and, Mithout 
 some particular interposition of fortune, been attend- 
 ed with success — But fortune did not put herself to 
 any particular trouble about the matter. 
 
 Don Pedro, big with vast designs, was one dny 
 walking in his fields. He was promised next morn- 
 ing an audience of the king. He was preparing him- 
 self for a conversation, v/hich might prove of so much 
 consequence to all mankind ; when walking thought- 
 fully along, and regardless of his path, his foot hap- 
 pened to stumble and overturn an ants' nest. He cast 
 his eyes upon the ground to see the occasion of his 
 mistake, where he spyed the little animals in the most 
 miserable confusion. He had the delicacy of senti- 
 
AND MANNERS. 'T'S 
 
 ment, to be really sorry for what he had clone ; and, 
 putting himself in their condition, began to rcilect 
 upon the consequence. It might be an age, to them, 
 ere they could recover their tranquillity. He viewed 
 them with a sort of smile, to find the anxiety they 
 underwent for such perishable habitations. Yet he 
 considered that his contempt was only the effect of 
 his own superiority ; and that there might be some 
 created beings, to whom his own species must appear 
 as trifling. His remark did not cease here. He con- 
 sidered his future enterprize, with an eye to such a 
 race of beings. He found it must appear to them in 
 aliglit as disadvantageous, as the ambition, and vain- 
 glory of an ant would, to himself. How ridiculous, 
 he said, must this republic appear to me, could I dis- 
 cern its actions, as it has probably many, that are 
 analogous to those of human nature ! Suppose them 
 at continual variance about the property of a grain 
 of sand. Suppose one, that had acquired a few sands 
 more to his ■:ortion....as also one grain of wheat, and 
 one small particle of barley-flour.. ..should think him- 
 self qualified to tyrannize over his equals, and to lord 
 it, uncontrouled. Consider him, on this account, not 
 contented to make use of the numerous legs with 
 which nature has supplied him, borne aloft by acoupie 
 of slaves within the hollow of an husk of wheat, five 
 or six others, at the same time, attending solemnly 
 upon the procession. Suppose lastly, that among 
 this people, the prime minister should persuade the 
 rest to levy war upon a neighbouring colony ; and 
 this in order to be styled the sovereign of two hillocks, 
 instead of one ; wliilc, perhaps, their present condi- 
 tioii leaves them nothing to wish besides superfluities. 
 At the same time it is in the power of the most in- 
 consitlerable among mankmd, nay of any species of 
 animals superior to their own, to destroy ai once the 
 minister and people all together: this is doubtless 
 very ridiculous ; yet this is doubtless my own case, 
 
74 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 in respect to many subordinate beings, and very cer- 
 tainly of the Supreme one. Farewell then, ye air- 
 built citadels ! farewell, visions of unsoiid glory I 
 Don Pedro will seek no honour of so equivocal an 
 acceptation, as to degrade his character to a superi- 
 or species, in proportion as it exalts him btfore his 
 own. 
 
 See here a just conclusion! in short, he found it so 
 fairly drawn, as immediately to drop his project, 
 leave the army, and retire : of which whimsical re- 
 lation it may be well enough observed, that a spider 
 had enslaved the world, had not an ant obstructed 
 his design. 
 
 UPON ENVr,...fO A FRIEND, R. G. 
 
 WHENCE is it, my friend, that I feel it impos- 
 sible to envy you, althoiigh, hereafter, your qualifi- 
 cations may make whole millions do so ? for, believe 
 me, when I affirm, that I deem it much more super- 
 fluous, to wish you honours to gratify your ambition, 
 than to v/ish you ambition enough to make your hon- 
 ours satisfactory. 
 
 It seems an hard case that envy should be the con- 
 sequence cf merit, at the same time that scorn so 
 naturally attends the want of it. It is however in 
 some measure perhaps an unavoidable (and perhaps 
 in some sense an useful) passion in all the most he- 
 roic natures ; where, i^fined through certain strain- 
 ers, it takes the name of emulation. It is a pain aris- 
 ing in our breasts, on contemplation of the superior 
 advantages of another : and its tendency is truly 
 good, under some certain regulations. 
 
AND MANNERS. 75 
 
 All honour, very evidently, depends upon compa- 
 rison ; and consequently ti.e more minierous are our 
 superiors, the smaller portion of it fulls to our share. 
 Considered relatively, we are dvf arfs, or giants ; ^ 
 thousjh considered absolutely, we are neither, llow- 
 evt;i-, the love of this relative grandeur is made a 
 part of our natures ; and the use of emulation is to 
 excite our diligence in pursuit of power, for the sake 
 of beneficence. The instances of its perversion are 
 obvious to every one's observation. A vicious mind, 
 instead of its own emolument, studies the debase- 
 ment of his superior. A person to please one of this 
 cast, must needs divest himself of ail useful qualities ; 
 and in order to be beloved, discover nothing that is 
 truly amiable. One may very safely fix our esteem 
 on those whom we hear some people depreciate. 
 Merit is to them as uniformly odious, as the sun it- 
 self to the birds of darkness. An author, to judge 
 of his own merit, may fix his eye upon this tribe of 
 men ; and suffer his satisfaction to arise in due pro- 
 portion to their discontent. Their disapprobation 
 will sufficiently influence every generous bosom in his 
 favour : and I would as implicitly give my applause 
 to one whom they pull to pieces, as the inhabitants 
 of Pfgu worship those, that have been devoured by 
 apes. 
 
 It is another perversion of this passion, though of 
 a less enormous nature, when it merely slimuldies us 
 to rival others in points of no intrinsic worth. To 
 equal others in the useless parts of learning ; to pur- 
 sue riches for the sake of an equipage as biilliant ; to 
 covet an ec^ual knowledge of a table; to vie in joc- 
 key-ship, or cunning at a bett. These, and many 
 otlier rivalships, answer not the genuine purpose of 
 emulation. 
 
 I believe the passion is oftentimes derived from a 
 too partial view of our own and others excellencies. 
 We behold a man possessed of some particular ad- 
 
76 KSSAYS ON MEN 
 
 vantage, and we immedic-ttely reflect upon its deficien- 
 cy in ourselves. We wait not to examine what others 
 we have to balance it. We envy another man's bo- 
 dily accomplishments ; when our mental ones might 
 preponderate, would we put them into the scale. 
 Should we ask our own bosoms whether we would 
 change situations altogether, I fancy self-love vrould, 
 generally, make us prefer our own condition. But 
 if our sentiments remain the same after such an ex- 
 amination, all v.e can justly endeavour is our own re- 
 al advancement. To meditate this detriment either 
 in fortune, pov/er, or reputation, at the same time 
 that it is infcimous, has often a tendency to depress 
 ourselves. But let us confine our emulatioVi to points 
 of real wortli ; to riches, power, or knowledge, only 
 that wc may rival others in beneficence. 
 
 A VISION* 
 
 INGENIOUS was the device of those celebrat- 
 ed worthies, who for the more effectual promulgation 
 of their well-grounded maxims, first pretended to di- 
 vine inspiration. Peace be to their manes: may the 
 turf lie lightly on their breast ; and the verdure over 
 their grave be as perpetual as their memories I Well 
 knew they questionless, that a proceeding of this na- 
 ture must afford an excuse to their modesty, as well 
 as add a weight to their instructions. For, from the 
 beginning of time, if we may believe the histories of 
 the best repute, man has ever found a delight in giv- 
 ing credit to surprising lies. There was indeed a 
 necessary degree of credit, previous to this delight; 
 and there was as necessary a delight, in order to en- 
 force any degree of credit. But so it was, that the 
 
AXD MANNERS. '77 
 
 pleasure rose, in proportion to the wonder; and if 
 tiie love of wonder was l)ut gratified, no matter whe- 
 ther the tale was founded upon a witch or an Egeria; 
 on a rat, a pigeon, the pummel of a sword, a bloat- 
 ed sibyl, or a three-foot stool. 
 
 Of all writers that bear any resemblance to these 
 originals, those who approach the nearest, are such, 
 as describe their extraordinary dreams and visions. 
 Of ostentation we may not, peradventure, accuse 
 them, who claim to thcTTiselves no other than the 
 merit of spectators. Of want of abilities we must 
 not censure them ; whon we are given to know that 
 their imagination had no more part in the affair, than 
 a whited wall has, in those various figures, which 
 some crafty artist represents thereon. 
 
 The first meditation of a solitary, is the behaviour 
 of men in active life. Hapless species, I cried, how 
 very grossly art thou mistaken 1 how very supincj 
 while youth permits thee to gain the prize of virtue, 
 by restraint 1 how very resolute, when thine age 
 leaves nothing to restrain thee 1 thou givest a loose 
 to thine inclinations, till they lose their very being; 
 and, like a lamp overwhelmed with oil, are extin- 
 guisheU by indulgence. What folly to cream of virtue, 
 when there is no longer room for self-denial ; or, 
 when the enemy expires by sickness, to demand the 
 honour of a triumpn 1.... Musing upon this s.Lbject, I 
 fell into a profouna slumber ; and the vision with 
 which it furnished me shall supply rnater als for this 
 essay. 
 
 I was, methought, transported into a winding val- 
 ley, on each side of whose area, so far as my eye 
 could see, were held up (in tne manner of apicture) 
 all the pleasing objects cither of art or nature. Hills 
 rose one beyond another crowned with trees, or adorn- 
 ed with edifices; broken rocks contrasted with lawns, 
 and foaming rivers poured headloiig over them ; gild- 
 ed spires enlivened even the sunshine; aucl lonesome 
 
75 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ruins, by the side of \Yoods, gave a solemnity to the 
 shade. It would be endless, or rather impossible, to 
 give an idea of the vast variety. It seemed, as though 
 people of whatever inclinations might here meet with 
 their favourite object. 
 
 While I stood amazed, and even confounded, at 
 so astonishing a landscape ; an old man approached 
 towards me, and offered his assistance in alleviating 
 my surprize. You observe, says he, in the middle 
 path, a train of sprightly female pilgrims*, conduct- 
 ed by a matron f of a graver cast. She is habited, 
 as you may observe, in a robe far more plain and 
 simple than that of any amidst her follov. ers. It is 
 her province to restrain her pupils, that the objects 
 glittering on each side may not seduce them to 
 make excursions, from which they scarce ever find 
 their right way again. You may not, perhaps, sus- 
 pect the gulphs and precipices that lie intermixed 
 amidst a scenery so delightful to the eye. You see, 
 indeed, at a considerable distance, the gilt dome of 
 a temple, raised on columns of the whitest marble. I 
 must inform you, that within this temple resides a 
 lady \, weaving wreaths of immortal amaranth for 
 that worthy matron, if she exert her authority ; and, 
 as their obedience is more or less entire, she has also 
 garlands of inferior lustre to recompence the ladies 
 in her train. 
 
 Your ov»^n sagacity, added he, will supply the place 
 of farther instructions ; and then vanished in an in- 
 stant. 
 
 The space before me, as it appeared, was crossed 
 by four successive rivers. Over these were thrown 
 as many bridges, and beyond each of these streams 
 the ground seemed to vary its degree of lustre, as 
 much as if il had lain under a different climate. On- 
 the side of each of these rivers appeared, as I thought, 
 
 * The Passions. f Reason. \ Virtue, 
 
AND MANNERS. 79 
 
 a receptacle for travellers ; so that the journey seem- 
 ed to be proportioned into four distinct stages. It is 
 possible that these were meant to represent the peri- 
 ods of a man's life ; which may be distinguished by 
 the names of infancy, youth, manhood, and old age* 
 During the first stage, our travellers proceeded 
 without much disturbance. Their excursions were 
 of no greater extent than to crop a primrose, or a dai- 
 sy, that grew on the way-side : and in these their 
 governess indulged them. She gave them but few 
 checks, and they afforded her but little occasion. 
 But when they arrived at the second period, the case 
 then was greatly altered. The young ladies grew visi- 
 bly enamoured of the beauties on each side ; and the 
 governess began to feel a consciousness of her duty 
 to restrain them. They petitioned clamourously to 
 make one short excursion, and met with a decent re- 
 fusal. One of them, that visibly shewed herself the 
 greatest vixen and romp * amongst them, had a thou- 
 sand arts and stratagems to circumvent her well- 
 meaning governess. I must here mention, what I 
 remarked afterwards, that some of the pupils felt 
 greater attractions in one stage ; and some in ano- 
 ther. And the scene before them being well vari- 
 egated with mossy banks and piu'ling streams, frisk- 
 ing lambs and piping shepherds ; inspired a long- 
 ing that was inexpressible, to one that seemed of an 
 amourous complexion. She requested to make a 
 short digression ; pointed to the band of shepherds 
 dancing ; and, as 1 observed, presented a glass, through 
 which the matron might distinctly view them. The 
 governess applied the glass, and it was wonderful to 
 trace the change it efitcted. She, who before had 
 with much constancy opposed the prayers of her pe- 
 titioner, now began to lean towards her demands ; 
 and, as if she herself were not quite indifferent to the 
 
 * Love. 
 
80 ESSAYS ON MEJf 
 
 scene of pleasure she had beheld, grew remiss in her 
 discipline ; softened the language of dissent ; ai.d 
 with a gentle reprimand, suftered her pupil to elope. 
 After this, however, she winked her eyes ; that she 
 might not at least bear testimony to the step she did 
 not approve. When the lady had gratified her curi- 
 osity, she returned for the p^^esent ; but with an ap- 
 petite more inflamed, and more impatient to repeat 
 her frolic. The governess appeared uneasy, and to 
 repent of her own compliance; and reason good she 
 had ; considering the confidence it gave her pupil, 
 and the v/eight it took from her own authority. 
 
 They were not passed far from the second stage 
 of their journey, ere they all determined to rebel, 
 and submit to the tyranny of their leader no longer. 
 
 Another now took the lead ; and seizing an em- 
 broidered handkerchief, completely hoodwinked the 
 directress. All now was tumult, anarchy, disagree- 
 ment, and confusion. They led their guide along, 
 blindfold, not without proposals of downright murder. 
 They soon lost sight of the regular path, and strode 
 along with amazing rapidity. I should however, ex- 
 cept some few*, who, being of a complexion natural- 
 ly languid, andthus deprived of their protectress, had 
 neither constancy to keep the road, nor spirit enough 
 to stray far from it. These found the utmost of their 
 inclinations gratified, in treasuringup shells from the 
 banks of the river, scooping fossils from the rocks, 
 or preserving plants that grew in the valley. A moth 
 or butterfly afforded them a chace, and a grub or 
 beetle was a suitable companion. But to return to 
 vagabonds. 
 
 The lady that performed the feat of blinding her 
 governess, for a time, bore the chief rule ; and held 
 the rest in a state of servitude!* She seemed to be 
 indeed formed for that power and grandeur, which 
 
 * The Virtuoso-passion. f Ambition. 
 
AND MANNERS. 81 
 
 was lier dellglit ; bcin?^ of a stature remarkably tall, 
 M'ith an air of dignity in her countenance. Not but 
 others vvouKl sometimes insist upon some temporary 
 gratiticdtion. As they shaped their way to a great 
 city, one t v/ould loll and loiter on a bed of roses ; 
 another would join the dance of shepherds, and some- 
 times retire with :j- one into the covert. A 1| third 
 M'ould not move a step farther, till she had gathered 
 some ore tluit was v.ashed from the mountains. When 
 they entered the city, their dissipation was yet more 
 oi)servable. One |||j intoxicated herself with cordials ; 
 anotlier |^ went in quest of iace and equipage. The 
 ** lady, however, at tliis time the most enterprising, 
 and who (as I mentioned before) had given such a 
 turn to their affairs, discovered a strange fondness 
 herself for lawn and ermine, entbroidered stars, and 
 golden collars. However ciifficiiit it seemed to reach 
 tiiem, or how little necessary soever they seemed to 
 happiness, these alone engaged her attention ; and 
 to these alone her hopes aspired. Nay she went so 
 far, as, in failure of these, to resolve on misery and 
 wilful wretchedness. 
 
 She at length succeeded, at least so far as to find 
 bow little they enhanced her happiness ; and her for- 
 mer compeers, having ruined their constitutions, were 
 once again desirous to have their queen reign over 
 them. In short, their loyalty regained the ascen- 
 dant; insomuch, that with one consent they remov- 
 ed the bandage from her eyes, and vowed to obey 
 her future directions. 
 
 She promised to secure them all the happiness that 
 was consistent with their preseiit state ; and advised 
 them all to follow her towards the path they had for- 
 saken. 
 
 t Ind':ilence. | Gallantry. ]) Avarice. |!!,' Ebriety. || Pride 
 and Vanity. ** Ambition. 
 
82 r.SSAYS ON MEN 
 
 Our travellers^ in a liule time after this passed over 
 the bridii;e that introduced them to their closing stage. 
 The subjects, very orderly, repentant, and demis- 
 sive ; the governess, more rigid and imperious than 
 ever. Tiie former, withered, decrepid, languishing ; 
 the latter, in greater vigour, and more beautiful than 
 before. Time appeared to produce in her, a very 
 opposite effect, to that it wrought in her companions. 
 She seemed, indeed, no more that easy ductile crea- 
 ture, insulted and borne away by the whims of her 
 conipuiuons. She appeared more judicious in the 
 commands she gave, and more rigorous in the exe- 
 cution. In short, both her own activity, and the su- 
 pine lethargy of those whom she conducted united to 
 make way for her unlimited authority. Now, indeed, 
 a more limited rule might have secured obedience, 
 and maintained a regularity. The ladies were but 
 little struck with the glare of objects on each side the 
 way. One alone I must except, whom I beheld look 
 wishfully, with a retorted eye, towards the golden ore 
 washed down by the torrents. The governess repre- 
 sented, in the strongest terms, that the materials 
 could not be imported into the realms they were about 
 to enter. That, were this even the case, they could 
 be there of no imiportance. However, she had not 
 extirpated the bias of this craving dame, when they 
 approached the temple to which I formerly alluded. 
 
 The temple stood upon a lofty hill, half encircled 
 with trees of never-fading verdure. Between the milk- 
 white columns (which were of the Dorick order, the 
 bases gilt, as also the capitals) a blaze of glory issu- 
 ed, of such superior lustre, that none beside the gov- 
 erness was able to approach it. She, indeed, with a 
 dejected countenance, drew near unto the goddess ; 
 who gently waved her hand in the way of salutation. 
 
 The matron seemed less dazzled, than delighted 
 with her excessive beauty. She accosted her with 
 reverence, and with much diftldence be^an to men^ 
 
AND MANNERS. 83 
 
 tion their pretension to her favour. " She must own, 
 she had been too remiss in the beginnin,^ of her 
 government ; she hopftci it would be attributed to in- 
 experience in the subtle wiles of her fellow-travellers. 
 She fluttered herself, that her severity towarcis the 
 conclusion of her journey might in some sort make 
 atonement for her misbehaviour in the begiriuing. 
 Lastly, that she sometimes found it impossible to hear 
 the dictates of the Gotidess amid ilie cian;ours of her 
 pupils, and the din of their pet'suasioiis." 
 
 To this I he goddess may reply. 
 
 " You have heard." said she, " no doubt that the 
 favours I bestow, are by no means consistent with a 
 state of inactivity. The only time when you w^ere 
 allowed an opportunity to deserve them, was the time 
 when your pupils were the most refractory and per- 
 verse. The hojiours you expect in my court are pro- 
 portioned to the difficulty of a good undertaking. 
 May you, hereafter, partake them, in reward of your 
 more vigorous conduct : for the present, you are lit- 
 tle entitled to any recompence from me. As to your 
 pupils, I observe, they have passed sentence upon 
 themselves." 
 
 At this instant of time the bell rung for supper, 
 and awaked me : I found the gardener by my side, 
 prepared to plant a parcel of trees ; and that I had 
 slumbered away the hours, in which I should have 
 given him suitable directions. 
 
84 KSSAYS ON MEM 
 
 UNCONNECTED fllOUGHfS ON GARDENING, 
 
 GARDENING may be divided into three spc- 
 
 cies....kitchen-gardenin^....parterre-gcirdcning and 
 
 landscape, or picturesque-gardening : which latter is 
 the subject intended in the following pages. ...It con- 
 sists in pleasing the imagination by scenes of gran- 
 deur, beauty, or variety. Convenience merely has 
 no share here, any farther than as it pleases the inui- 
 gi nation. 
 
 Perhaps the division of the pleasures of imagina- 
 tion, according as they are struck, by the great, the 
 various, and the beautiful, may be accurate enough 
 for my present purpose : why each of them affects 
 us with pleasure may be traced in other authors. 
 See Burke, Hutchinson, Gerard, the theory of agree- 
 able sensations, £cc *. 
 
 There seems however to be some objects, which 
 afford a pleasure not reducible to either of the fore- 
 going heads. A ruin, for instance, may be neither 
 new to us, nor majestic, nor beautiful, yet afibrd that 
 pleasing melancholy which proceeds from a reflection 
 on decayed magnificence. Tor this reason, an able 
 gardener should avail himself of objects, perhaps, 
 not very striking ; if they serve to connect ideas, 
 that convey reilections of the pleasing kind. 
 
 Objects should indeed be less calculated to strike 
 the immediate eye, than the judgment or well-form- 
 ed imagination ; as in painting. 
 
 It is no objection to the pleasure of novelty, that 
 it makes an ugly object more disagreeable. It is 
 enough that it produces a superiority betwixt things 
 
 * Garden- scenes may perhaps be divided into the sublime, 
 the beautiful, and the melancholy or ])cnsive ; to which last 
 I know not but we may assign a middle place betwixt the 
 former two, as being in some sort composed of both. See 
 Burke's Sublime. 
 
AND MANNERS'. 85 
 
 \r\ Other respects equal. It seems, on some occa- 
 sions, to 4^0 even farther. Arc there not hroken rocks 
 a!ul rugi);ecl grounds, to which we can hardly attri- 
 huie either beauty or grandeur; and yet when intro- 
 ihiccdnear an extent of lawn, imparta pleasure equal 
 to more shapely scenes ? Thus a series of lawn, 
 though ever so beautiful, may satiate and cloy, un- 
 less the eye passes to them from wilder scenes ; and 
 then they acquire the grace of novelty. 
 
 Variety appears to me to derive good part of its 
 effect from novelty ; as the eye, passing from one 
 form or colour, to a form or colour of a different 
 kind, finds a degree of novelty in its present object, 
 which affords immediate satisfaction. 
 
 Variety however, in some instances, may be car- 
 ried to such excess as to lose its whole effect. I 
 have observed ceilings so crammed with stucco-or- 
 naments ; that, although of the most different kinds, 
 they have produced an uniformity. A sufficient quan- 
 tity of undecorated space is necessary to exhibit such 
 decorations to advantage. 
 
 Ground should first be considered with an eye to 
 its peculiar character: whether it be the grand, the 
 savage, the melancholy, the horrid, or the beautiful. 
 As one or other of these characters prevail, one may 
 somewhat strengthen its effect, by allowing every 
 part some denomination, and then supporting its ti- 
 tle by suitable appendages.... P'or instance. The lover's 
 walk may have assignation seats, with proper mot- 
 toes urns to faithful lovers. ....trophies, garlands, 
 
 See. by means of art. 
 
 What an advantage must some Italian seats derive 
 from the circumstance of being situated on ground 
 mentioned in the classics ? And, even in England, 
 wherever a park or garden happens to have been the 
 scene of any event in history, one would surely avail 
 one's self of that circumstance, to make it more ia- 
 H 
 
86 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 teresting to the imagination. Mottoes should alhidc 
 to it, columns, See. record it ; verses moralize upon 
 it ; and curjosity receive its share of pleasure. 
 
 In designing a house and gardens, it is happy 
 when there is an opportunity of maintaining a sub- 
 ordination of parts ; the house so luckily placed as to 
 exhibit a vicv/ of the whole design. I have some- 
 limes thought that there was room for it to resemble 
 an epic or dramatic poem. It is rather to be wished 
 than required, that the more striking scenes may 
 succeed those which are less so. 
 
 Taste depends much upon temper. Some pr.efer 
 
 TibuJius to Virgil, and Virgil to Homer Hagley 
 
 to Perslieid, and Persfieid to the Welsh mountains. 
 This occasloas the different preferences that are given 
 to situations.. ..A garden strikes us most, wdiere the 
 grand and the pleasing succeed, not intermingle w ith, 
 each other. 
 
 I believe, howevei', the sublime has generally a 
 deeper effect than the merely beautiful. 
 
 I use the words landscape and prospect, the former 
 as expressive of home scenes, the latter of distant 
 images. Prospects should take in the blue distant 
 Inlis ; but never so remotely, that they be not ciis- 
 tinguishable from clouds. Yet this mere extent is 
 whcit the vulgar value. 
 
 Landscape should contain variety enough to form 
 a picture upon canvas ; and this is no bad test, as I 
 thiiik tiic landscape painter is the gardener's best de- 
 signer. The eye requires a sort of balance here ; 
 but not so as to encroach upon probable nature. A 
 wood, or hiil, may balance a house or obelisk ; for 
 exactne-.s w'ouid be displeasing. We form our no- 
 lions from what we have seen ; and though, could 
 we comprehend the universe, w^e might perhaps lind 
 it uniforndy regular ; yet the portions that we see of 
 it, habituate our fancy to the contrary. 
 
A^^D MANNERS. 
 
 87 
 
 The eye should always look rather down upon 
 water: customary nature makes this requisite. I 
 know nothing more sensibly displeasing than Mr. 
 T 's flat ground betwixt his terrace and his water. 
 
 It is not easy to account for the fondness of form- 
 er times for straigiit-lined avenues to their houses ; 
 straight-lined walks through their woods ; and, in 
 short, every kind of straight-line ; where the foot is 
 to travel over, what the eye has done before. This 
 circumstance, is one objection. Another, somewhat 
 of the same kind, is the repetition of the same o1> 
 ject, tree after tree, for a length of way together. 
 A third is, that this identity is purchased by the loss 
 of that variety, which the natural country supplies 
 every where, in a greater or less degree. To stand 
 still and survey such avenues, may afibrd some slen- 
 der satisfaction, through the change derived some 
 perspective ; but to move on continually and find no 
 change of scene in the least attendant on our change 
 of place, must give actual pain to a person of taste. 
 For such an one to be condemned to pass aloi'g the 
 famous vista* from Moscow to Petersburg, or that 
 other from Arga to Labor in India, must be as disa- 
 greeable a sentence, as to be coiidemned to labour at 
 the gallies. I conceived some idea of the sensation 
 he must feel, from walking but a few minutes, im- 
 mured, betwixt Lord D 's high-shorn yew- 
 hedges ; which run exactly parallel, at the distance 
 of about ten feet; and are contrived perfectly to ex- 
 clude all kind of objects whatsoever. 
 
 Vv^hen a building, or other object, has been once 
 viewed from its proper point, tlie foot should never 
 travel to it by the same path, which the eye has tra- 
 velled over before. Lose the object, and draw nigh, 
 obliLjuely. 
 
 * In Montescjuieu, on Taste. 
 
S« essats on metn 
 
 The side-trees in vistas should be so circumstan- 
 ced as to ailbrd a probability that they grew by na- 
 ture. 
 
 Ruinated structures appear to derive their power of 
 pleasing, from the irregularity of surface, which is 
 variety ; ^nd the latitude they afford the imagination 
 to conceive an enlargem.ent of their dimensions, or 
 to recollect any events or circumstances appertaining 
 to their pristine grandeur, so far as concerns gran- 
 deur and solemnity. The breaks in them should be 
 as bold and abrupt as possible. ....If mere beauty be 
 aimed at (which however is not their chief excellence) 
 the waving line, with more easy transitions, will be- 
 come of greater importance. ...Events relating to them 
 may be simulated by numberless little artifices ; but 
 it is ever to be remembered, that high hills and sud- 
 den descents are most suitable to castles ; and fertile 
 vales, near wood and water, most imitative of the usual 
 situation for abbeys and religious houses ; large 
 oaks, in particular, are essential to these latter ; 
 
 " Whose branching arms, and reverend height, 
 " Admit a dim religious light." 
 
 A cottage is a pleasing object, partly on account 
 of the variety it may introduce ; on account of the 
 tranquillity that seems to reign there ; and perhaps 
 (I am somewhat afraid) on account of the pride of 
 human nature : 
 
 ♦' Longi alterius spectare laborem." 
 
 In a scene presented to the eye, objects should never 
 lie so much to the right or left, as to give it any un- 
 easiness in the examination. Sometimes, however, 
 it may be better to adn^it valuable objects even with 
 this disadvantage. They should else never be seen 
 beyond a certain angle. The eye must be easy, be- 
 fore it can be pleased. 
 
AND MANNERS. 83 
 
 No mere slope from one side to the other can be 
 agreeable ground : The eye requires a balance....!, e. 
 a degree of uniformity : but this may be other- 
 wise effected, and the rule should be understood with 
 some limitation. 
 
 " ....Each alley has its brother, 
 
 *' And half the plat-form just reflects the other." 
 
 Let us examine what may be said in favour of that 
 regularity which Mr. Pope exposes. Might he not 
 seemingly as well object to the disposition of an hu- 
 man face, because it has an eye or cheek, that is the 
 Yery picture of its companion ? Or does not provi- 
 dence, who has observed this regularity in the exter- 
 nal structure of our bodies and disregarded it within, 
 seem to consider it as a beauty ? The arms, the 
 limbs, and the several parts of them correspond, but 
 it is not the same case with the thorax and the ab- 
 domen. I believe one is generally solicitous for a 
 kind of balance in a landscape ; and, if I am not mis- 
 taken, the painters generally furnish one : a build- 
 ing for instance on one side, contrasted by a group 
 of trees, a large oak, or a rising hill on the other. 
 Whence then does this taste proceed, but from the 
 love we bear to regularity in perfection ? After all, 
 in regard to gardens, the shape of ground, the dis- 
 position of trees, and the figure of water, must be 
 sacred to nature; and no forms must be allowed that 
 make a discovery of art. 
 
 All trees have a character analogous to thatof men : 
 oaks are in all respects the perfect image of the 
 manly character: in former times I should have said, 
 and in present times I think I am authorized to say, 
 the British one. As a brave man is not suddenly 
 either elated by prosperity or depressed by adversity, 
 so the oak displays not its verdure on the sun's first 
 approach ; nor drops it, on his first departure. Add 
 H 2 
 
•» ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 to this its majestic appearance, the rough g-randeup 
 of its bark, and the wide protection of its branches. 
 
 A large, branching, aged oak, is perhaps the most 
 venerable of all inanimate objects. 
 
 Urns are more solemn, if large and plain ; more 
 beautiful if less and ornamented. Solemnity is per- 
 haps their point, and the situation of them should 
 sLill co-operate with it. 
 
 By the way, I wonder that lead statues are not 
 jnore in vogue in our modern gardens. Though they 
 tnay not express the finer lines of a human body? yet 
 they seem perfectly well calculated, on account of 
 their duration, to embellish landscapes, were they 
 some degrees inferior to what we generally behold. 
 A statue in a room challenges examination, and is to 
 be examined critically as a statue. A statue in a 
 garden is to be considered as one part of a scene or 
 landscape ; the minuter touches are no more essen- 
 tial to it, than a good landscape painter would esteem 
 them w ere he to represent a statue in his picture. 
 
 Apparent art, in its proper province, is almost as 
 important as apparent nature. They contrast agree- 
 ably ; but their provinces ever should be kept dis- 
 tinct. 
 
 Some artificial beauties are so dextrously managed, 
 that one cannot but conceive them natural ; some na- 
 tural ones so extremely fortunate, that one is ready 
 to swear they are artificial. 
 
 Concerning scenes, the more uncommon they ap- 
 pear, the better, provided they form a picture, and 
 include nothing that pretends to be of nature's pro- 
 duction, and is not. The shape of ground, the site 
 of trees, and the fall of water, nature's province. 
 Whatever thwarts her is treason. 
 
 On the other hand, buildings and the works of art 
 need have no other reference to nature than that they 
 afford the ivviu,vov with which the human mind is de- 
 lighted* 
 
AND MANNERS. 91 
 
 Art should never be allowed to set a foot in the 
 province of nature, otherwise than clandestinely and 
 by nij^ht. Whenever she is allowed to appear here, 
 and men begin to compromise the difference. ...night, 
 gotliicism, confusion, and absolute chaos, are come 
 again. 
 
 To see one's urns, obelisks, and waterfalls laid 
 open ; the nakedness of our beloved mistresses, the 
 Naiads and the Dryads, exposed by that ruffian Win- 
 ter to universal observation ; is a severity scarcely to 
 be supported by the help of blazing hearths, cheer- 
 ful companions, and a bottle of the most grateful 
 burgundy. 
 
 The works of a person that builds, begin immedi- 
 ately to decay ; while those of him who plants begin 
 directly to improve. In this, planting promises a 
 more lasting pleasure, than building ; which, were 
 it to remain in equal perfection, would at best begin 
 to moulder and want repairs in imagination. Now 
 trees have a circumstance that suits our taste, and 
 that is annual variety. It is inconvenient indeed, if 
 J; ihey cause our love of life to take root and flourish 
 with them ; whereas the very sameness of our struc- 
 tures will, without the help of dilapidation, serve to 
 wean us from our attachment to them. 
 
 It is a custom in some countries to condemn the 
 characters of those (after death) that have neither 
 planted a tree, nor begot a child. 
 
 The taste of the citizen and of the mere peasai t 
 are in all respects the same. The former gilds his 
 balls ; paints his stone work and statues white ; plants 
 his trees in lines or circles ; cuts his yew-trees four- 
 square or conic; or gives them, v/hat he can, of the 
 resemblance of birds, or bears, or men ; squirts up his 
 rivulets in jetteaus ; in short admires no part of na- 
 ture, but her ductility ; exhibits every thing that is 
 glaring, that implies expcnce, or that effects sur- 
 prize because it is unnatural. The peasant is his ad- 
 mirer. 
 
&5 
 
 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 It is always to be remembered in gardening, that 
 sublimity or magnificence, and beauty or variety, are 
 very different things. Every scene we see in nature 
 is either tame and insipid ; or compounded of those. 
 It often happens that the same ground may receive 
 i"rom art, either certain degrees of sublimity and mag- 
 nificence, or certain degrees of variety and beauty ; 
 or a mixture of each kind. In this case it remains 
 to be considered in which light they can be rendered 
 most remarkable, vvhether as objects of beauty or 
 magnificence. Even the temper of the proprietor 
 should not perhaps be wholly disregarded : for cer- 
 tain complexions of soul will prefer an orange tree 
 or a myrtle, to an oak or cedar. However, this 
 should not induce a gardener to parcel out a lawn in- 
 to knots of shrubbery ; or invest a mountain with a 
 garb of roses. This would be like dressing a giant 
 in a sarsenet gown, or a Saracen's head in a Brussel's 
 night-cap. Indeed the small and circular clumps of 
 firs, which I see planted upon some fine large swells, 
 put me often in mind of a coronet placed on an ele- 
 phant or camel's back. I say, a gardener should 
 not do this, any more than a poet should attempt to 
 write of the king of Prussia in the style of Philips. 
 On the other side, what would become of Lesbia's 
 sparrow, should it be treated in the same language 
 with the anger of Achilles ? 
 
 Gardeners may be divided into three sorts, the 
 landscape gardener, the parterre gardener, and the 
 kitchen gardener, agreeably to our first division of 
 gardens. 
 
 I have used the word landscape-gardeners ; be- 
 cause, in pursuance of our present taste in garden- 
 ing, every good painter of landscape appears to me 
 the most proper designer. The misfortune of it is, 
 that these painters are apt to regard the execution of 
 their work^ m\],gh jnore than the choice of subject. 
 
AND MANNERS. 95 
 
 The art of distancing and approximating, comes 
 truly within their sphere : the former by the gradual 
 diminution of distinctness, and of size : the latter by 
 the reverse. A straight-lined avenue that is widen- 
 ed in front, and planted there with yew trees, then 
 firs, then with trees more and more fady, till they 
 end in the almond-willow, or silver osier; will pro- 
 duce a very remarkable deception of the former kind ; 
 which deception will be encreased, if the nearer dark 
 trees are proportionable and truly larger than those at 
 the end of the avenue that are more fady. 
 
 To distance a building, plant as near as you can 
 to it, two or three circles of different coloured greens 
 ....Ever-greens are best for all such purposes.. ..Sup- 
 pose the outer one of holly, and the next of laurel, 
 Sco. The consequence will be that the imagination 
 immediately allows a space betwixt these circles, and 
 another betwixt the house and them ; and as the 
 imagined sp:w:e is determinate, if your building be 
 dim-coloured, it will not appear inconsiderable. The 
 imagination is a greater magnifier than a microscope 
 glass. And on this head, I have known some instan- 
 ces, where, by shevang intermediate ground, the 
 distance has appeared less, than while an hedge or 
 grove concealed it. 
 
 Hedges, appearing as such, are universally bad. 
 They discover art in nature's province. 
 
 Trees in hedges partake of their artificiality, and 
 become a part of them. There is no more sudden and 
 obvious improvement, than an hedge removed, and 
 the trees remaining ; yet not in such manner as to 
 mark out the former hedge. 
 
 Water should ever appear, as an irregular lake, or 
 winding stream. 
 
 Islands give beauty, if the water be adequate ; but 
 lessen grandeur through variety. 
 
 It was the wise remark of some sagacious observer, 
 that familiarity is for the most part productive of con- 
 
9't ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 tempt. Graceless ofFspring of so amiable a parent I 
 Unfortunate beings that we are, whose enjoyments 
 must be either checked, or prove destructive of them- 
 selves. Our passions are permitted to sip a little 
 pleasure ; but are extinguished by indulgence, like 
 a lamp overwhelmed with oil. Hence we neglect the 
 beauty with which we have been intimate; nor would 
 any addition it could receive, prove any equivalent 
 for the advantage it derived from the first impression. 
 Thus, negligent of graces that heive the merit of real- 
 ity, we too often prefer imaginary ones that have on- 
 ly the charm of novelty : and hence we may account, 
 in general for the preference of art to nature, in old- 
 fashioned gardens. 
 
 Art, indeed, is often requisite to collect and epito- 
 mize the beauties of nature ; but should never be suf- 
 fered to set her mark upon them ; I mean, in regard 
 to those articles that are of nature's province ; the 
 shaping of ground, the planting of trcCi, and the dis- 
 position of lakes and rivulets. Many more particu- 
 lars will soon occur, which, however, she is allowed 
 to regulate, somewhat clandestinely, upon the follow- 
 ing account.. ..Man is not capable of comprehending 
 the universe at one survey. Had he faculties equal 
 to this, he might well be censured for any minute 
 regulations of his own. It were the same, as if, in his 
 present situation, he strove to find amusement in con- 
 triving the fabric of an ant's nest, or the partitions of 
 9. bee-hive. But we are placed in the corner of a 
 sphere ; endued neither with organs, nor allowed a 
 station, proper to give us an universal view, or to ex- 
 hibit to us the variety, the orderly proportions, and 
 dispositions of the system. We perceive many breaks 
 and blemishes, several neglected and unvariegated 
 placed in the part ; which, in the whole, would appear 
 either imperceptible, or beautiful. And we might as 
 rationally expect ii snail to be satisfied with the beau- 
 ty' of our parterres, slopes, and terraces. ...or an ant 
 
A^JD MANNERS. O5 
 
 to prefer our buildings to her own orderly range of 
 granaries, as that man should be satisfied, without a 
 single thought that he can improve the spot that falls 
 to his share. But, though art be necessary for col- 
 lecting nature's beauties, by what reason is she au- 
 thorized to thwart and to oppose her? Why fantas- 
 tically endeavour to humanize those vegetables, of 
 which nature, discreet nature thought it proper to 
 make trees ? Why endow the vegetable bird with 
 wings, which nature has made momentarily depend- 
 ant upon the soil ? Here art seems very affectedly to 
 make a display of that industry, which it is her glory 
 to conceal. The stone which represents an asterisk, 
 is valued only on account of its natural production : 
 Nor do we view with pleasure the laboured carvings 
 and futile diligence of gothic artists. We view with 
 much more satisfaction some plain Grecian fabric, 
 where art, indeed, has been equally, but less visibly, 
 industrious. It is thus we, indeed, admire the shin- 
 ing texture of the silkworm ; but we loath the puny 
 author when she thinks proper to emerge ; and to 
 disgust us with the appearance of so vile a grub. 
 
 But this is merely true in regard to the particulars 
 of nature's province ; wherein art can only appear as 
 the most abject vassal, and had, therefore, better not 
 appear at all. The case is different where she has 
 the direction of buildings, useful or ornamental ; or 
 perhaps, claims as much honour from temples, as 
 the deities to whom they are inscribed. Here then it is 
 his interest to be seen as much as possible : and, 
 though nature appear doubly beautiful by the con- 
 trast her structures furnish, it is not easy for her to 
 confer a benefit which nature, on her side will not re- 
 pay. 
 
 A rural scene to me is never perfect without the 
 additk)n of some kind of building : indeed I have 
 known a scar of rock-work, in great measure, supply 
 he deficiency. 
 
56 ESSAYS ON MF-X 
 
 In gardening, it is no small point to enforce either 
 grandeur or beauty by surprize ; for instance, by 
 abrupt transition fi'om their contraries.. ..but to lay a 
 stress upon surprize only ; for example, en the sur- 
 prize occasioned by an aha 1 without including any 
 nobler purpose ; is a symptom of bad taste, and a 
 violent fondness for mere concetto. 
 
 Grandeur and beauty are so very opposite, that yoa 
 often diminish the one as you encrease the other. 
 Variety is most a-kin to the Utter, simplicity to the 
 former. 
 
 Suppose a large hill rarie^, by art, with large 
 patches of different-coloured clunips, scars of rock, 
 chalk-quarries, rillages, or farm-houses ; you will 
 have, perhaps, a more beautiful scene, but much less 
 grand than it was before. 
 
 In many instances, it is m.ost eligible to compound 
 your scene of beauty and grandcur....Suppose a mag- 
 nificent s^ell arising out of a well-variegated valley ; 
 it would be disatlvantageous to encrease its beauty, 
 by means destniciive to its magniScencc. 
 
 There may possilily, but there seldom happens to 
 be any occasion to fill up valleys, with trees or other- 
 wise. It is for the most part the gartleoer's business 
 to remove trees, or aught ihat fills up the low ground ; 
 and to give, as far as caturc allows, an anificial emi- 
 nence to the high. 
 
 The hedge-row apple-trees in Herefordshire afibrd 
 a most beautiful scenery, at the time they are in 
 blossom : but the prospect would be really grzuider, 
 did it consist of ^raple foliage. For the same rea- 
 son, a large oak (or beech) in autumn, -s a grander 
 object than the same in spring. The sprightly green 
 is then obliiscated. 
 
 Smoothness and easy transitions are no smaC'in- 
 gredient in the beautiful; abr^^pi and rectangiilar 
 breaks have more of the nature af the sublime. Thus 
 
AND MANNERS. 9f 
 
 a tapering spire is, perhaps, a more beautiful object 
 than a tower, which is grander. 
 
 Many of the different opinions relating to the pre- 
 ference to be given to seats, villas, Ecc are owing to 
 want of distinction betwixt the beautiful and the mag- 
 nificent. Both the former and the latter please ; but 
 there are imaginations particularly adapted to the one, 
 and to the other. 
 
 Mr. Addison thought an open uninclosed cham- 
 pain country, formed the best landscape. Somewhat 
 here is to be considered. Large, unvaricgated, sim- 
 ple objects have the best pretensions to sublimity ; a 
 large mountain, whose sides are unveried with ob- 
 jects, is grander than one with infinite variety : but 
 then its beauty is proportionably less. 
 
 However, I think a plain face near the eye gives 
 it a kind of liberty it loves : and then the picture, 
 whether you chuse the grand or beautiful, should be 
 held up at its proper distance. Variety is the princi- 
 pal ingredient in beauty ; and simplicity is essential 
 to grandeur. 
 
 Oftensive objects, at a proper distance, acquire 
 even a degree of beauty : for instance, stubble fallow 
 ground 
 
^S ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ON POLITICS. 
 
 PERHAPS men of the most different sects and 
 parties very frequently think the same ; only vary in 
 their phrase and language. At least, if one exam- 
 ines their first principles, which very often coincide, 
 it were a point of prudence, as well as candour, to 
 consider the rest as nothing more. 
 
 A courtier's dependant is a beggar's dog. 
 
 If national reflections are unjust, because there are 
 good men in all nations, are not national wars upon 
 much the same footing? 
 
 A government is inexcusable for employing foolish 
 Ininisters; because they may examine a man's head, 
 though they cannot his heart. 
 
 I fancy, the proper means of encreasing the love 
 we bear our native country, is to reside some time in 
 a foreign one. 
 
 The love of popularity seems little else than the 
 love of being beloved ; and is only blameable when a 
 person aims at the affections of a people by means 
 in appearance honest, but in their end pernicious and 
 destructive. 
 
 There ought no doubt, to be heroes in society as 
 well as butchers ; and who knows but the necessity 
 of butchers (inflaming and stimulating the passions 
 with animal food) might at first occasion the neces- 
 sity of heroes. Butchers, I believe, were prior. 
 
 The whole mystery of a courtly behaviour seems 
 included in the power of making general favours ap- 
 pear particular ones. 
 
 A man of remarkable genius may afford to pass 
 by a piece of wit, if it happen to border on abuse. 
 A little genius is obliged to catch at every witticism 
 indiscriminately. 
 
 Indolence is a kind of centripetal force. 
 
AND MANNERS. 59 
 
 It seems idle to rail at ambition merely because it 
 is a boundless passion; or rather is not vhis circum- 
 stance an argument in its favour ? If one would be 
 employed or amused through life, should we not 
 make choice of a passion that will keep one long in 
 play ? 
 
 A sportsman of vivacity will make choice of that 
 game which will prolong hi^ diversion : a fox, that 
 w^ill support the chace till night, is better game than 
 a rabbit, that will not aflbrd him half an hour's en- 
 tertainment. E. 
 
 The submission of Prince Hal to the civil magis- 
 trate that connnitted him, was more to h.is honour 
 than all the conquests of Henry the Fifth in France. 
 
 The most animated social pleasure, that I can con- 
 ceive, may be, perhaps, felt by a general after a suc- 
 cessful engagement, or in it : I mean by such com- 
 manders as have souls equal to their occupation. 
 This, however, seems paradoxical, and requires some 
 explanation. 
 
 Resistance to the reigning powers is justifiable, 
 upon a conviction that their government is inconsist- 
 ent with the good of the subject ; that our interposi- 
 tion tends to establish better measures ; and this with- 
 out a probability of occasioning evils that may over- 
 balance them. But these considerations must never 
 be separated. 
 
 People are, perhaps, more vicious in towns, be- 
 cause they have fewer natural objects there, to em- 
 ploy their attention. ...or admiration : likewise because 
 one vicious character tends to encourage and keep 
 another in countenance. However it be, excluding 
 accidental circumstances, I believe the largest cities 
 are the m,ost vicious of all others. 
 
 Laws are generally found to be nets of such a tex- 
 ture, as the little creep through, the great break 
 through, and the middle size are alone entangled in. 
 
%( 
 
 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 Though I have no sort of inclination to vindicate 
 the late rebellion, yet I am led by candour to make 
 some distinction between the immorality of its abet-* 
 tors, and the illegality of their offences. My Lord 
 Hardwick, in his condemnation-speech, remarks with 
 great propriety, that the laws of all nations have ad- 
 judged rebellion to be the worst of crimes. And in 
 regard to civil societies, I believe there are none but 
 madmen will dispute it. But surely with regard to 
 conscience, erroneous judgments and ill-grounded 
 convictions may render it some people's duty. Sin 
 does not consist in any deviation from received opin-. 
 ion ; it does not depend upon the understanding, but 
 the will. Now, if it appear that a man's opinion has 
 happened to misplace his duty ; and this opinion has 
 not been owing to any vicious desire of indulging 
 his appetites. ...In short, if his own reason, liable to 
 err, have biased his will ; rather than his will any 
 way contributed to bias and deprave his reason, he 
 •will, perhaps, appear guilty before none, beside an 
 earthly tribunal. 
 
 A person's right to resist, depends upon a convic- 
 tion, that the government is ill-managed ; that others 
 have more claim to manage it, or will administer it 
 better: that he, by this resistance, can introduce a 
 change to its advantage, and this without any conse- 
 quential evils that will bear proportion to the said ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 Whether this were not in appearance the case of 
 Balmerino, I will not presume to say : how conceiv- 
 ed, or from what delusion sprung. But as, 1 think, 
 he was reputed an honest man, in other respects, one 
 may guess his behaviour was rather owing to the mis- 
 representations of his reason, than to any depravity, 
 perverseness, or disingenuity of his will. 
 
 If a person ought heartly to stickle for any cause 
 it should be that of moderation. Moderation should 
 be his pai'ty. 
 
AND MANNERS. 
 
 i9i 
 
 EG0'2'1SMS,»„FR0M MY OIVN SENSATIONS, 
 
 I. 
 
 I HATE maritime expressions, smiles, and al- 
 lusions ; my dislike, I suppose, proceeds from the 
 unnaturalness of shipping, and the great share which 
 ^rt ever claims in that practice. 
 
 II. 
 
 I am thankful that my name is obnoxious to no pun. 
 
 III. 
 May I always have an heart superior, with econ- 
 omy suitable, to my fortune 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 Inanimates, toys, utensils, seem to merit a kind 
 of affection from us, when they have been our com- 
 panions through various vicissitudes. I have often 
 viewed my watch, standish, snuff-box, with this 
 kind of tender regard; allotting them a degree of 
 friendship, which there are some men, who do not 
 deserve : 
 
 " Midst many faithless only faithful found !" 
 
 V. 
 
 I loved Mr. Somerville, because he knew so per- 
 fectly what belonged to the flocci-nauci-nihili-pilifi- 
 cation of money. 
 
 VI. 
 
 It is with me in regard to the earth itself, as it is 
 in regard to those that walk upon its surface. I love 
 to pass by crowds, and to catch distant viev/s of the 
 
 I 2 
 
ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 country as I walk along; but I insensibly chuse to 
 sit where I cannot see two yards before me. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I begin too soon in life, to slight the world more 
 than is consistent with making a figure in it. The 
 " non est tanti" of Ovid grows upon me so fast that 
 in a few years I shall have no passion. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I am obliged to the person that speaks me fair to 
 my face. I am only more obliged to the man who 
 speaks well of me Jn my absence also. Should I be 
 asked whether I chose to have a person speak well 
 of me when absent or present, I should answer the 
 latter ; for were all men to do so, the former would 
 be insignificant. 
 
 IX. 
 
 I feel an avarice of social pleasure, which produ- 
 ces only mortification. I never see a town or city in 
 a map, but I figure to myself many agreeable per- 
 sons in it, with whom I could wish to be acquainted. 
 
 X. 
 
 It is a miserable thing to be sensible of the value 
 of one's time, and yet restrained by circumstances 
 from making a proper use of it. One feels one's self 
 somewhat in the situation of Admiral Hosier. 
 
 XI. 
 
 It is a miserable thing to love where one hates j 
 and yet it is not inconsistent. 
 
 XII. 
 The modern world considers it as a part of polite- 
 ness, to drop the mention of kindred in all addresses 
 
AND MANNERS. 1051 
 
 to relations. There is no doubt, that it puts our ap- 
 probation and esteem upon a less partial footing. I 
 think, where I value a friend, I would not suffer my 
 relation to be obliterated even to the twentieth ge- 
 neration : it serves to connect us closer. Wherever 
 I dise&teemed, I would abdicate my first-cousin. 
 
 XITI. 
 
 Circumlocutory, philosophical obscenity appears 
 to me the most nauseous of all stuff: shall I say it 
 takes away the spirit from it, and leaves you nothing 
 but a caput mortuum ? or shall I say rather it is a 
 Sir....e in an envelope of fine gilt paper, which only 
 raises expectation ? Could any be allowed to talk 
 obscenely with a grace, it were downright country 
 fellows, who use an unaffected language : but even 
 among these, as they grow old, it partakes again of 
 affectation. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 It is some loss of liberty to resolve on schemes be- 
 fore-hand. 
 
 XV. 
 
 There are a sort of people to whom one would al- 
 lot good wishes and perform good offices : but they 
 are sometimes those, with whom one would by no 
 means share one's time. 
 
 XVI. 
 I would have all men elevated to as great an height, 
 as they can discover a lustre to the naked eye. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 I am surely more inclined (of the two) to pretend 
 a false disdain, than an unreal esteem. 
 
^04 ESS^AYS ON MEN 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Yet why repine ? I have seen mansions on the 
 verge of Wales that convert my farm-house into an 
 Hamptoncourt, and where they speak of a glazed 
 window as a great piece of magnificence. All things 
 figure by comparison. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 I do not so much want to avoid being cheated, as 
 to afford the^xpence of being so: the generality of 
 mankind being seldom in good humour but whilst 
 they are imposing upon you in some shape or other. 
 
 XX. 
 
 I cannot avoid comparing the ease and freedom I 
 enjoy, to the ease of an old shoe ; where a certain 
 degree of shabbiness is joined with the convenience. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Not Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, Coptic, nor even th« 
 Chinese language, seems half so difficult to me as 
 the language of refusal. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 I actually dreamt that somebody told me I must 
 not print my^,pieces separate. That certain stars 
 would, if single, be hardly conspicuous, wTiich, unit- 
 ed in a narrow compass, form a very splendid con- 
 stellation. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The ways of ballad-singers, and the cries of lialf- 
 penny-pamphlets, appeared so extremely humourous, 
 from my lodgings in Fleet-street, that it gave me pain 
 to obseive them without a companion to partake. 
 For alas I laughter is by no means a solitary enter- 
 tainment. 
 
AND MANNERS. 105 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Had I a fortune of eight or ten thousand pounds a 
 year, I would methinks make myself a neighbour- 
 hood. I would first build a village with a church, and 
 people it with inhabitants of some branch of trade 
 that was suitable to the country round. I would then, 
 at proper distances, erect a number of genteel boxes 
 of about a thousand pounds a piece, and amuse my- 
 self with giving them all the advantages they could 
 receive from taste. These would I people with a se- 
 lect number of well-chosen friends, assigning to each 
 annually the sum of two hundred pounds for life. 
 The salary should be irrevocable, in order to give 
 them independency. The house, of a more preca- 
 rious tenure, that, in cases of ingratitude, I might 
 introduce another inhabitant.. ..How plausible how-, 
 ever this may appear in speculation, perhaps a very 
 natural and lively novel might be founded upon the 
 inconvenient consequences of it, when put in execu- 
 tion. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 I think, I have observed universally that the quar- 
 rels of friends in the latter part of life, are never truly 
 reconciled. " Male sarta gratia necquicquam coit, 
 et rescinditur." A wound in the friendship of young 
 persons, as, in the bark of young trees, may be so 
 grown over, as to leave no scar. The case is very 
 different in regard to old persons and old timber. 
 The reason of this may be accountable from the de- 
 cline of the social passions, and the pi'evalence of 
 spleen, suspicion, and rancour, towards the latter 
 part of life. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 There is nothing, to me, more irksome than to 
 hear weak and servile people repeat with admiration 
 
106 ISSAYS ON MES 
 
 every silly speech that falls from a mere person of 
 rank and fortune. It is, " cran.be bis cocta."....The 
 nonsense grows more nauseous through the medium 
 of their admiration, and shews the venality of vulgar 
 tempers, which can consider fortune as the goddess 
 pf wit. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 What pleasure it is to pay ones debts I I remem- 
 ber to have heard Sir T. Lyttleton make the same 
 observation. It seems to flow from a combination of 
 circumstances, each of which is productive of plea- 
 sure. In the first place, it removes that uneasiness, 
 which a true spirit feels from dependence and obliga- 
 tion. It affords pleasure to the creditor, and there- 
 fore gratifies our social affection : it promotes that fu- 
 ture confidence, which is so very interesting to an 
 honest mind : it opens a prospect of being readily 
 supplied with what we want on future occasions : it 
 leaves a consciousness of our own virtue » and it is a 
 measure we know to be right, both in point of justice 
 and of sound economy. Finally, it is a main support 
 of simple reputation, 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 It is a maxim with me (and I would recommend 
 It to others also, upon the score of prudence) when- 
 ever I lose a person's friendship, who generally com- 
 mences enemy, to engage a fresh friend in his place. 
 And this may be best effected by bringing over some 
 of one's enemies ; by which means one is a gainer, 
 having the same number of friends at least, if not an 
 enemy the less. Such a method of proceeding, should 
 I think, be as regularly observed, as the distribution 
 of vacant ribbons, upon the death of knights of the 
 garter. 
 
AND MANNERS. \07 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 It has been a maxim with me to admit of an easy- 
 reconciliation with a person, whose offence proceed- 
 ed from no depravity of heart J but where I was con- 
 vinced it did so, to forego, for my own sake, all op- 
 portunities of revenge : to forget the persons of my 
 enemies as much as I was able, and to call to remem- 
 brance, in their place, the more pleasing idea of my 
 friends. lam convinced that I have derived no small 
 share of happiness from this principle. 
 
 I have been formerly so silly as to hope, that, every 
 servant I had might be made a friend : I am now con- 
 vinced that the nature of servitude generally bears a 
 contrary tendency. Peoples characters are to be chief- 
 ly collected from their education and place in life : 
 birth itself does but little. Kings in general are born 
 with the same propensities as other men : but yet it 
 is probable, that from the licence and flattery that 
 attends their education, that they will be more haugh- 
 ty, more luxurious, and more subjected to their pas- 
 sions, than any men beside. I question not but there 
 are many attorneys born with open and honest hearts : 
 but I know not one, that has had the least practice, 
 who is not selfish, trickish, and disingenuous. So it 
 is the nature of servitude to discard all generous mo- 
 tives of obedience ; and to point out no other than 
 those scoundrel ones of interest and fear. There are 
 however some exceptions to this rule, which I know 
 by my own experience. 
 
■lot ESSAYS ON MEU 
 
 OS DUESS, 
 
 DRESS, like writing, should never appear the 
 effect of too much study and application. On this ac- 
 count, I have seen parts of dress, in themselves ex- 
 tremely beautiful, which at the same time subject 
 the wearer to the character of foppishness and affec- 
 tation. 
 
 II. 
 
 A man's dress in the former part of life should ra- 
 ther tend to set off his person, than to express riches, 
 rank or dignity : in the latter the reverse. 
 
 f III. 
 
 Extreme elegance in liveries, I mean such as is ex- 
 pressed by the more languid colours, is altogether 
 absurd. They ought to be rather gawdy than gen- 
 teel ; if for no other rea»on, yet for this, that elegance 
 may more strongly distinguish the appearance of the 
 gentleman. 
 
 IV. 
 
 It is a point out of doubt with me, that the ladies 
 are most properly the judges of the men's dress, and 
 the men of that of the ladies. 
 
 V. 
 
 I thinks till thirty, or with some a little longer, 
 people should dress in a way that is most likely to pro- 
 cure the love of the opposite sex. 
 
 VI. 
 
 There are many modes of dress, which the world 
 esteems handsome, which are by no means calculated 
 to shew the human figure to advantage. 
 
AND MANNERS. 109 
 
 VII. 
 
 Love can be founded upon nature only ; or the ap- 
 pearance of it. ...For this reason, however a peruke 
 may tend to soften the human features, it can very 
 seldom make amends for the mixture of artifice which 
 it discovers. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A rich dress adds but little to the beauty of a per- 
 son. It may possibly create a deference, but that is 
 rather an enemy to love : 
 
 *« Non bene conveniimt nee in una sede niorantur 
 
 ♦' Majestas & amor." Ovid. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Simplicity can scarce be carried too far : provided 
 it be not so singular as to excite a degree of ridicule. 
 The same caution may be requisite in regard to the 
 value of your dress : though splendor be not neces- 
 sary, you must remove all appearance of poverty : the 
 ladies being rarely enough sagacious to acknowledge 
 beauty through the disguise of poverty. Indeed, I 
 believe sometimes they mistake grandeur of dress, 
 for beauty of person. 
 
 X. 
 
 A person's manner is never easy, whilst he feels a 
 consciousness that he is fine. The country-fellow, 
 considered in some lights, appears genteel ; but it is 
 not when he is dressed on Sundays, with a large nose- 
 gay in his bosom. It is when he is reaping, making 
 hay, or when he is hedging in his burden frock. It 
 is then he acts with ease, and thinks himself equal to 
 his apparel. 
 
119 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 XI. 
 
 When a man has run all lengths himself with re- 
 gard to dress, there is but one means remaining, which 
 can add to his appearance. Andthis consists in ha- 
 ving recourse to the utmost plainness of his own ap- 
 parel, and at the same time richly garnishing his 
 footman or his horse. Let the servant appear as fine 
 as ever you please, the world must always consider 
 the master as his superior. And this is that pecu- 
 liar excellence so much admired In the best painters 
 as well as poets ; Raphael as w'ell as Virgil : where 
 somewhat is left to be supplied by the spectator's and 
 reader's imagination. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Methinks, apparel should be rich in the sam.e pro- 
 portion as it is gay : it otherwise carries the appear- 
 ance of somewhat unsubstantial : in other words, of 
 a greater desire than ability to m.ake a figure. 
 
 XIIT. 
 
 Persons are oftentimes misled in regard to their 
 choice of dress, by attending to the beauty of colours, 
 rather than selecting such colours as may -encrease 
 their own beauty. 
 
 XIV. 
 I cannot see why a person should be esteemed 
 haughty, on account of his taste for finecloaths, any 
 more than one who discovers a fondness for birds, 
 flowers, moths, or butterflies. Imagination influ- 
 ence both to seek amusement in glowing colours ; 
 only the former endeavours to give them a nearer 
 relation to himself. It appears to me, that a person 
 may love splendor v/ilhout any degree of pride ; 
 which is never connected with this taste but when a 
 person demands homage on account of the finery he 
 
AND MANNERS. Ill 
 
 exhibits. Then it ceases to be taste, and commences 
 mere ambition. Yei the world is not enough candid 
 to make this essential distinction. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The first instance an officer gives you of his cour- 
 age, consists in wearing cloaths infinitely superior to 
 his rank. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Men of quality never appear more amiable than 
 when their dress is plain. Their l)irth, rank, title, 
 and its appendages^ are at best invidious ; and as tb.ey 
 do not need the assistance of dressv so, by their dis- 
 claiming the advantage of it, they make their supe- 
 riority sit more easy. It is otherwise with such as 
 depend alone on personal merit ; and it was from 
 hence, I presume, that Quin asserted he could not 
 afford to go plain. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 There are certain shapes and physiognomies, of so 
 entirely vulgar a cast, that they could scarce win re- 
 spect even in the country, though they were embel- 
 lished with a dress as tawdry as a pulpit-cloth. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 A large retinue upon a small income, like a large 
 cascade upon a small stream, tends to discover its 
 
 tr^nnitv- 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Why are perfumes so much decryed ? When a 
 person on his approach diffuses them, does he not re- 
 vive the idea which the ancients ever entertained con- 
 cerning the descent of superior beings, *' veiled in a 
 cloud of fragrance ?" 
 
WH ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 XX. 
 
 The lowest people are generally tlie first to find 
 fault with shew or equipage ; especially that of a per- 
 son lately emerged from his obscurity. They never 
 once consider that he is breaking the ice for them- 
 selves. 
 
 OW {VRirrii^G AND BOOKS, 
 
 I. 
 
 FINE writing is generally the effect of sponta- 
 neous thoughts and a laboured style. 
 
 II. 
 
 Long sentences in a short composition are like 
 large rooms in a little house. 
 
 III. 
 
 The world may be divided into people that read, 
 people that write, people that think, and fox-hunters. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Instead of whining complaints concerning the im- 
 agined cruelty of their mistresses, if poets would ad- 
 dress the same to their muse, they would act more 
 agreeably to nature and to truth. 
 
 V. 
 
 Superficial writers, like the mole, often fancy them- 
 selves deep, when they are exceeding near the surface. 
 
AND MANNERS. il3 
 
 VI. 
 
 <• Sumite materiam veslrls, qui scribitis, acquam 
 " Vlribus"" 
 
 Authors often fail by printing their works on a demi- 
 royal, that should have appeared on ballad-paper, to 
 make their performance appear laudable. 
 
 VII. 
 
 There is no word in the Latin language, that sig- 
 nifies a female friend. " Arnica" means a mistress : 
 and perhaps there is no friendship betwixt the sexes 
 wholly disunited from a degree of love. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The chief advantage that ancient writers can boast 
 over modern ones, seems owing to simplicity. Eve- 
 ry noble truth and sentiment was expressed by the 
 former in the natural manner ; in word and phrase, 
 simple, perspicuous, and incapable of improvement. 
 What then remained for later writers but affectation, 
 witticism, and conceit ? 
 
 IX. 
 
 One can, now and then, reach an author's head 
 when he stoops ; and, induced by this circumstance, 
 aspire to measure height with him. 
 
 X. 
 
 The national opinion of a book or treatise is not al- 
 ways right...." est ubi peccat.".. ..Milton's Paradise 
 Lost is one instance. I mean, the cold reception it 
 met with at first, 
 
 XI. 
 
 Perhaps, an acquaintance with men of genius is 
 rathe r reputable than satisfactory. It is as unaccount- 
 able, as it is certain, that fancy heightens sensibili- 
 K2 
 
114 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ty ; sensibility strengthens passion ; and passion 
 makes people humourists. 
 
 Yet a person of genius is often expected to shew 
 iTiore discretion than another man ; and this on ac- 
 count of that very vivacity, which is his greatest im- 
 pediment. This happens for want of distinguishing 
 betwixt the fanciful talents and the dry mathemati- 
 cal operations of the judgment, each of which in- 
 discriminately give the denomination of a man of 
 genius. 
 
 XII. 
 
 An actor never gained a reputation by acting a bad 
 play, nor a musician by playing on a bad instrument. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Poets seem to have fame, in lieu of most tempo- 
 ral advantages. They are too little formed for busi- 
 ness, to be respected : too often feared or envied, to 
 be beloved. 
 
 XIV. 
 Tully ever seemed an instance to me, how far a 
 nian devoid of courage, may be a spirited writer. 
 
 XV. 
 
 One would rather be a stump of laurel than the 
 slump of a church-yard yew-tree. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Degere more ferx." Virg. Vanbrugh seems 
 to have had this of Virgil in his eye, when he intro- 
 duces Miss Hoyden envying the liberty of a grey- 
 hound bitch. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 There is a certain flimziness of poetry, which 
 seems expedient in a song. 
 
AND MANNERS. US 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Dido, as well as Desdemona*, seems to have 
 been a mighty admirer of strange atchievements ; 
 
 " Heu ! quibusille 
 «' Jactatus fatis! quae bella exhausta canebat ! 
 *« Si mihinon," &c. 
 
 This may shew that Virgil, Shakspeare, and Shaftes- 
 bury agreed in the same opinion. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 It is often observed of wits, that they will lose 
 their best friend for the sake of a joke. Candour 
 may discover, that it is their greater degree of the 
 love of fame, not the less degree of their benevolence, 
 which is the cause. 
 
 XX. 
 
 People in high or in distinguished life ought to 
 have a greater circumspection in regard to their most 
 trivial actions. For instance, I saw Mr. Pope ....and 
 what was he doing when you saw him ?....why, to the 
 best of my memory, he was picking his nose. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Even Joe Miller in his jests has an eye to poetical 
 justice ; generally gives the victory or turns the 
 laugh on the side of merit. No small compliment 
 to mankind ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 To say a person writes a good style, is originally 
 as pedantic an expression, as to say he plays a good 
 fiddle. 
 
 • Lord Shaftesbury. 
 
116 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The first line of Virgil seems to patter like an 
 hailstorm...." Tityre, tu patul^e," Stc. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The vanity and extreme self-love of the French is 
 no where more observable than in their authors ; and 
 among these, in none more than Boileau ; who, be- 
 sides his rhodomontades, preserves every the most 
 insipid reading in his notes, though he have remov- 
 ed it from the text for the sake of one ever so much 
 better. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The writer who gives us the best idea of what may 
 be called the genteel in style and manner of writ- 
 ing, is, in my opinion, my Lord Shaftesbury. Then 
 Mr. Addison and Dr. Swift. 
 
 A plain narrative of any remarkable fact, emphat- 
 ically related, has a more striking effect without the 
 author's comment. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Long periods and short seem analogous to gothic 
 and modern stair cases : the former were of such a 
 size as our heads and legs could barely command ; 
 the latter such, that they might command half a dozen. 
 
 I think nothing truly poetic, at least no poetry 
 worth composing, that does not strongly affect one's 
 passions : and this is but slenderly effected by fables, 
 
 " Incredulus odi." Hon. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 A preface very frequently contains such a piece of 
 criticism, as tends to countenance and establish the 
 peculiarities of the piece. 
 
AND MANNERS. 1 17 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 I hate a style, as I do a garden, that is wholly flat 
 and regular; that slides along like an eel, and never 
 rises to what one can call an inequality. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 It is obvious to discover that impe. fecticns of one 
 kind have a visible tendency to produce perfections of 
 another. Mr. Pope's bodily disadvantages must in- 
 cline him to a more laborious cultivation of his talent, 
 without which he foresaw that he must have lan- 
 guished in obscurity. The advantages of person are 
 a good deal essential to popularity in the grave world 
 as well as the gay. Mr. Pope, by an unwearied ap- 
 plication to poetry, became not only the favourite of 
 the learned, but also of the ladies. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Pope, I think, never once mentions Prior ; though 
 Prior speaks so handsomely of Pope in his Alma. 
 One might imagine that the latter, indebted as he was 
 to the former for such numberless beauties, should 
 have readily repaid this poetical obligation. This 
 can only be imputed to pride or party cunning. In 
 other words, to some modification of selfishness. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Virgil never mentions Horace, though indebted to 
 him for two very well-natured compliments. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Pope seems to me the most correct writer since 
 Virgil J the greatest genius only, since Dryden. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 No one was ever more fortunate than Mr. Pope in 
 judicious choice of his poetical subjects. 
 
lis ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Pope's talent lay remarkably in what one may na- 
 turally enough terra the condensation of thoughts. 
 I think, no other English poet ever brought so much 
 sense into the same number of lines with equal smooth- 
 ness, ease, and poetical beauty. Let him who doubts 
 of this peruse his Essay on Man with attention. Per- 
 haps, this was a talent from which he could not easi- 
 ly have swerved ; perhaps, he could not have suffi- 
 ciently rarefied his thoughts to produce that fiimziness 
 which is required in a ballad or love-song. His mon- 
 ster ofRagusa and his translations from Chaucer 
 have some little tendency to invalidate this observa- 
 tion. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 I durst not have censured Mr. Pope's writings in his 
 life-time, you say. True. A writer surrounded with 
 all his fame, engaging with another that is hardly 
 known, is a man in armour attacking another in his 
 night-gown and slippers. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Pope's religion is often found very advantageous 
 to his descriptive talents, as it is no doubt embellish- 
 ed with the most pompous scenes and ostentatious 
 imagery : for instance, 
 
 *' When from the censer clouds of, &c." 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Pope has made the utmost advantage of alliteration, 
 regulating it by the pause with the utmost success : 
 
 " Die and endow a college or a cat," &c. &c. 
 
 It is an easy kind of beauty. Dryden seems to have 
 borrowed it from Spenser. 
 
AND MANNERS. 119 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 Pope has published fewer foibles than any other po- 
 et that is equally voluminous. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 It is no doubt extremely possible to form an English 
 prosody ; but to a good ear it were almost superflu- 
 ous, and to a bad one useless ; this last being, I be- 
 lieve,, never joined with a poetic genius. It may be 
 joined with wit; it may be connected with sound 
 judgment : but is surely never united with taste, which 
 is the life and soul of poetry. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Rhymes, in elegant poetry, should consist of sylla- 
 bles that are long in pronunciation : such as "are, ear, 
 ir»e,ore,your;"in which anice ear willfind more agree- 
 ableness than in these " gnat, net, knit, knot, nut." 
 
 XLI. 
 
 There is a vast beauty (to me) in using a word of 
 a particular nature in the eighth and ninth syllables 
 of an English verse. I mean, what is virtually a 
 dactyl. For instance, 
 
 " And pikes, the tyrants of the watry plains." 
 
 Let any person of an ear substitute " liquid" instead 
 of " watry," and he will find the disadvantage. Mr. 
 Pope (who has improved our versification through a 
 judicious disposition of the pause) seems not enough 
 aware of this beauty. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 As to the frequent use of alliteration, it has proba- 
 bly had its day. 
 
120 ESSAYS ON MEM 
 
 XLTII. 
 
 It has ever a good effect when the stress of the 
 thought is laid upon that word which the voice most 
 naturally pronounces with an emphasis. 
 
 ** I nunc & versus tecum meditare," 8cc. Hor. 
 
 «' Quam vellent se there in alto 
 
 *' Nunc & pauperiem," &c. Vtrg. 
 
 •' O fortunati, quorum jam m2enia, &c. Virg. 
 
 «' At regina gravi jamdudum," &c. Virg. 
 
 Virgil, whose very metre appears to effect one's pas- 
 sions, was a master of this secret. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 There are numbers in the world, who do not want 
 sense, to make a figure ; so much as an opinion of 
 their own abilities, to put them upon recording theiiv 
 observations, and allowing them the same importance 
 which they do to those which others print. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 A good writer cannot with the utmost study pro- 
 duce some thoughts, which will flow from a bad one 
 with ease and precipitation. The reverse is also true. 
 A bad writer, &c. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " Cxreat wits have short memories" is a proverb ; 
 and as such has undoubtedly some foundation in na- 
 ture. The case seems to be, that men of genius 
 forget things of common concern, unimportant factsr 
 and circumstances, which make no slight impression 
 in every-day minds. But sure it will be found that 
 all wit depends on memory ; i. e. on the recollection 
 of passages, either to illustrate or contrast with any 
 
AND MANNERS. 12l 
 
 present occasion. It is probably the fate of a com- 
 mon understanding to fort^et the very things which 
 the man of wit remembers. But an oblivion of those 
 things which almost every one remembers renders 
 his case the more remarkable, and this explains the 
 mystery. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Prudes allow no quarter to such ladies as have fall- 
 en a sacrifice to the gentle passions ; either because 
 themselves, being borne away by the malignant ones, 
 perhaps never felt the other so powerful as to occa- 
 sion them any difficulty ; or because no one has 
 tempted them to transgress that way themselves. It 
 is the same case with some critics, with regard to 
 the errors of ingenious writers. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 It seems with wit and good-nature, " Utrum hor- 
 um mavis accipe." Taste and good-nature are uni- 
 versally connected. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Voiture's compliments to ladies are honest on ac- 
 count of their excess. 
 
 Poetry and consumptions are the most flattering of 
 diseases. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Every person insensibly fixes upon some degree of 
 refinement in his discourse, some measure of thought 
 which he thinks worth exhibiting. It is wise to fix 
 this pretty high, although it occasions one to talk the 
 less. 
 
 I. 
 
122 ESSAYS ON- MEM 
 
 LIT. 
 
 Some men use no other means to acquire respect, 
 than by insisting on it ; and it sometimes answers 
 their purpose, as it does an highwayman's in regard 
 to money. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 There is nothing exerts a genius so much as writ- 
 ing plays ; the reason is, that the writer puts him- 
 self in the place of every person that speaks. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Perfect characters in a poem make but little bettcp 
 figure than regular hills, perpendicular trees, uniform 
 rocks, and level sheets of water, in the formation of 
 a landscfipe. The reason is, they are not natural, 
 and moreover want variety. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Trifles discover a character more than actions of 
 importance. In regard to the former, a person is off 
 his guard, and thinks it not material to use disguise. 
 It is, to me, no imperfect hint towards the discovery 
 of a man's character, to say he looks as though you 
 might be certain of finding a pin upon his sleeve. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 A grarnmarian speaks of first and second person : 
 A poet of Celia and Cory don : A mathematician of A 
 and B : a lawyer of Nokes and Styles. The A^ery 
 quintessence of pedantry ! 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Shakspeare makes his very bombast answer his pur- 
 pose, by the persons he chuses to utter it. 
 
AND MANNERS. 1:23 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 A poet, till he arrives at tliirty, can see no other 
 good than a poetical reputation. About that sera, he 
 begins to discover some other. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 The plan of Spencer's Fairy-queen appears to me 
 very imperfect. His imagination, tho;iL,h very ex- 
 tensive, yet somewhat less so, perhaps, than is gen- 
 erally allowed ; if one considers the facility of realiz- 
 iiig' and equipping forth the virtues and vices. His 
 metre has some advantages, though, in many res- 
 pects, exceptionable. His good-nature is visible 
 through every part of his poem. His conjunction of 
 the pagan and christian schem^e (as he introduces the 
 deities of both acting simultaneously) wholly inex- 
 cusable. Much art and judgment are discovered in 
 parts, and but little in the whole. One may enter- 
 tain some doubt whether the perusal of his mon- 
 strous descriptions be not as prejudicial to true taste, 
 as it is advantageous to the extent of imagination. 
 Spencer, to be sure, expands the last ; but then he 
 expands it beyond its due limits. After all, there 
 are many favourite passages in his Fairy -queen, 
 which will be instances of a great and cultivated 
 genius misapplied. 
 
 LX. 
 
 A poet, that fails in writing, becomes often a mo- 
 rose critic. The weak and insipid white wine makes 
 at length excellent vinegar. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 People of fortune, perhaps, covet the acquaintance 
 of established writers, not so much upon account of 
 the social pleasure, as the credit of it : Tne former 
 
124 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 would induce them to chuse persons of less capaci- 
 ties, and tempers more conformable. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Language is to the understanding what a genteel 
 motion is to the body ; a very great advantage. But 
 a person may be superior to another in understand- 
 ing, that has not an equal dignity of expression ; 
 and a man may boast an handsomer figure, that is in- 
 ferior to another in regard to motion. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 The words ^' no more" have a single pathos : re- 
 minding us at once of past pleasures and the future 
 exclusion of it. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Every single observation that is published by a man 
 of genius, be it ever so trivial, should be esteemed of 
 importance ; because he speaks from his own impres- 
 sions ; whereas common men publish common things, 
 which they have, perhaps, gleaned from frivolous wri- 
 ters. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 It is providential that our affection diminishes in 
 proi)ortion as our friends pov/er encreases. Afiec- 
 tion is of less importance whenever a person can sup- 
 port himself. It is on this account that younger broth- 
 ers are often beloved more than their elders ; and 
 that Benjamin is the favourite. We may trace the 
 same law throughout the animal creation. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 The time of life when fancy predominates, is youth; 
 the season when judgment decides best, is age. Po- 
 ets, therefore, are always, inrcsj^ect of their disposi- 
 
AND MANNERS. 125 
 
 tion, younger than other persons : a circumstance 
 that gives the latter part of their lives some incon- 
 sistency. The cool phlegmatic tribe discover it in 
 the former. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 One sometimes meets with instances of genteel ab- 
 ruption in writers ; but I wonder it is not used more 
 frequently, as it has a prodigious effect upon the rea- 
 der. For instance (after Falstaff's disappointment ser- 
 ving Shallow at Court) 
 
 " Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pounds" 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 When Pandulph commanded Philip of France to 
 proceed no farther against England, but to sheath the 
 sword he had drawn at the Pope's own instigation. 
 
 " Now it had already cost Philip eighty thousand 
 *' pound in preparations." 
 
 After the detail of king John's abject submission 
 to the Pope's legate: 
 
 " Now John was hated and despised before." 
 
 But, perhaps, the strongest of all may be taken 
 from the Scripture (Conclusion of a chapter in St. 
 John) 
 
 " Now Barabbas was a robber.".... 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 A poet hurts himself by writing prose ; as a race- 
 horse hurts his motions by condescending to draw in 
 a team. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 The superior politeness of the French is in nothing 
 more discernible than in the phrases used by them 
 L 2 
 
126 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 and us to express an affair being in agitation. The 
 former says, " sur la tapis ;" the latter " upon the 
 anvil." Does it not shew also the sincerity and seri- 
 ous face with which we enter upon business, and the 
 negligent and jaunty air with which they perform 
 eveii the most important ? 
 
 LXX. 
 
 There are two qualities adherent to the most inge- 
 nious authors : I donot mean without exception. A 
 decent pride that will admit of no servility, and a sheep- 
 ish bashfulness that keeps their worth concealed : the 
 *' superbia qusesita merilis" and the " malus pudor" 
 of Plorace. The one will not suffer them to make ad- 
 vances to the great ; the other disguises that merit 
 for which the great would seek out them. Add to 
 these the frequent indolence of speculative tempers. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 A poetical genius seems the most elegant of 
 youthful accomplishments ; but it is entirely a youth- 
 ful one. Flights of fancy, gaiety of behaviour, 
 sprightliness of dress, and a blooming aspect, con- 
 spire very amicably to their mutual embellishment ; 
 but the poetic talent has no more to do with age, 
 than it would avail his Grace of Canterbury to have 
 a knack at country dances, or a genius for a catch. 
 
 LXXII, 
 
 The most obsequious muses, like the fondest and 
 most willing courtezans, seldom leave us any reason 
 to boast much of their favours. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 If you write an original piece, you v/onder no one 
 ever thought of the best of subjects before you j if a 
 translation, of the best authors. 
 
AND MANNERS. 127 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 The ancient poets seem to value themselves great- 
 ly upon their power of perpetuating the fame of 
 their contemporaries. Indeed the circumstance that 
 has fixed their language, has been the only means of 
 verifying some of their vain-glorious prophecies. 
 Otherwise, the historians appear more equal to the 
 task of conferring immortality. An history will live, 
 though written ever so indifferently ; and is general- 
 ly less suspected, than the rhetoric of the muses. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 I wonder authors do not discover how much more 
 elegant it is to fix their name to the end of their pre- 
 face, or any introductory address, than to the title- 
 page. It is, perhaps, for the sake of an F. R. S. or 
 an L. L. D. at the end of it. 
 
 It should seem, the many lies, discernible in books 
 of travels, may be owing to accounts collected from 
 improper people. Were one to give a character of 
 the English, from what the vulgar act and believe, it 
 would convey * a strange idea of the English under- 
 standing. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Might not the poem on the Seasons have been ren- 
 dered more " uni," by giving out the design of na- 
 ture in the beginning of winter, and afterwards con- 
 sidering all the varieties of seasons as means aiming 
 at one end ? 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Critics must excuse me, if I compare them to cer- 
 tain animals called asses ; who, by gnawing vines, 
 
 * Missionaries clap a tail to every Indian nation that dislikes 
 them. 
 
128 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 originally taught the great advantage of pruning 
 them. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Every good poet includes a critic ; the reverse 
 "will not hold. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 We want a vrord to express the " Hospes" or 
 " Hospita" of the ancients ; among them, perhaps, 
 the most respectable of all characters ; yet with us 
 translated " Host," which we apply also to an Inn- 
 keeper. Neither have we any word to express 
 *' Arnica," as if we thought a woman always wa9 
 somewhat more or less than a friend. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 I know not where any Latin author uses " Igno- 
 tos" otherwise than as " obscure Persons," as the 
 modern phrase implies, " whom nobody knows." 
 Yet it is used differently on Mrs.L 's monu- 
 ment. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 The philosopher, who considered the world as one 
 vast animal, could esteem himself no other than a 
 louse upon the back of it. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Orators and stage-coachmen, when the one wants 
 arguments and the other a coat of arms, adorn their 
 cause and their coaches with rhetoric and flower-pots. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 It is idle to be much assiduous in the 'perusal of 
 inferior poetry. Homer, Virgil, and Horace give 
 
AND MANNERS. 129 
 
 the true taste in composition ; and a person's own 
 imagination should be able to supply the rest. 
 
 In the same manner, it is superfluous to pursue 
 inferior degrees of fame. One truly splendid ac- 
 tion, or one well-finished composition, includes more 
 than all the results from more trivial performances. 
 I mean this for persons who make fame their only 
 motive. 
 
 Very fev/ sentiments are proper to be put in a per- 
 son's mouth, during the first attack of grief. 
 
 Every thing disgusts, but mere simplicity ; the 
 scriptural writers describe their heroes using only 
 some such phrase as this : " Alas I my brother 1" 
 " O Absalom my son 1 my son 1" &c. The lamen- 
 tation of Saul over Jonathan is more diffuse, but at 
 the same time entirely simple. 
 
 Angling is literally described by Martial : 
 
 '< ....tremula piscem deducere seta." 
 
 From " Ictum foedus" seems to come the English 
 phrase and custom of striking a bargain. 
 
 I like Ovid's Amours better than his Epistles. 
 There seems a greater variety of natural thoughts : 
 whereas, when one has read the subject of one of his 
 epistles, one foresees what it will produce in a writer 
 of his imagination. 
 
 The plan of his Epistles for the most part well de- 
 signed. ...The answers of Sabinus, nothing. 
 
 Necessity may be the mother of lucrative inven- 
 tion ; but is the death of poetical. 
 
 If a person suspects his phrase to be somewhat too 
 familiar and abject, it were proper he should accus- 
 tom himself to compose in blank verse : but let him 
 be much upon his guard against Ancient Pistol's 
 phraseology. 
 
130 Essays on men 
 
 Providence seems altogether impartial in the dispen 
 sation which bestows riches upon one and a contempt 
 of riches upon another. 
 
 Respect is the general end for which riches, pow- 
 er, place, title, and fame, are implicitly desired. 
 AVhen one is possessed of the end through any one 
 of these means, is it not wholly unphilosophical to 
 covet the remainder ? 
 
 Lord Shaftesbury, in the genteel management of 
 some famihar ideas, seems to have no equal. He 
 discovers an eloignment from vulgar phrases much 
 becoming a person of quality. His sketches should 
 be studied, like those of Raphael. His Enquiry is 
 one of the shortest and clearest systems of morality. 
 
 The question is, whether you distinguish me, be- 
 cause you have better sense than other people ; or 
 "whether you seem to have better sense than other 
 people, because you distinguish me. 
 
 One feels the same kind of disgust in reading Ro- 
 man history, which one does in novels, or even epic 
 poetry. We too easily foresee to whom the victory 
 will fall. The hero, the knight-errant, and the Ro- 
 man, are too seldom overcome. 
 
 The elegance and dignity of the Romans is in no- 
 thing more conspicuous than in their answers to am^ 
 bassadors. 
 
 There is an important omission in most of our 
 grammar-schools, through which what we read, either 
 of fabulous or real history, leaves either faint or con- 
 fused impressions. I mean the neglect of old geo- 
 graphical maps. Were maps of ancient Greece, 
 Sicily, Italy, Sec. in use there, the knowledge we 
 there acquire would not want to be renewed after- 
 wards, as is now generally the case. 
 
 A person of a pedantic turn will spend five years 
 in translating, and contending for the beauties of a 
 worse poem than he might write in five weeks himself. 
 
AND MANNERS. 131 
 
 There seem to be authors who wish to sacrifice their 
 whole character of genius to that of learning. 
 
 Boileau has endeavoured to prove, in one of his 
 admirable satires^ that man has no manner of pre- 
 tence to prefer his faculties before those of the brute 
 creation. Oldham has translated him : my Lord 
 Rochester has imitated him : and even Mr. Pope de- 
 clares, 
 
 " That, reason raise o'er instinct how yon can, 
 " In this 'tis God directs; in that 'tis man." 
 
 Indeed, the Essay on Man abounds with illustra- 
 tions of this maxim ; and it is amazing to find how 
 many plausible reasons may be urged to support it. 
 It seems evident that our itch of reasoning, and spirit 
 of curiosity, precludes more happiness than it can 
 possibly advance. What numbers of diseases are 
 entirely artificial things, far from the ability of a brute 
 to contrive ! We disrelish and deny ourselves cheap 
 and natural gratifications, through speculative pre- 
 sciences and doubts about the future. We cannot 
 discover the designs of our Creator. We should 
 learn then of brutes to be easy under our ignorance, 
 and happy in those objects that seem intended, obvi- 
 ously, for our happiness: not overlook the flowers of 
 the garden, and foolishly perplex ourselves with the 
 intricacies of the labyrinth. 
 
 I wish but two editions of all books whatsoever. 
 One of the simple text, published by a society of 
 ^ble hands : another with the various readings and 
 remarks of the ablest commentators. 
 
 To endeavour, all one's days, to fortify our minds 
 with learning and philosophy, is to spend so much 
 in armour that one has nothing left to defend. 
 
 If one would think with philosophers, one must 
 converse but little with the vulgar. These, by their 
 very number, will force a person into a fondness for 
 
Io2 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 appearance, a love of money, a desire of power ; 
 and other plebeian passions: objects which they ad- 
 mire, because they have no snare in, and have not 
 learning to supply the place of experience. 
 
 Livy, the most elegant and principal of the Ro- 
 man historians, was, perhaps, as superstitious as the 
 most unlearned plebeian. We see, he never is des- 
 titute of appearances, accurately described and so- 
 lemnly asserted, to support particular events by the 
 interposition of exploded deities. The puerile atten- 
 tion to chicken-feeding in a morning.. ..And then a 
 piece of gravity: " Parva sunt hsec, sed parva ista 
 non contemnenda : majores nostri maximam banc rem 
 fecerunt." 
 
 It appears from the Roman historians, that the Ro- 
 mians had a particular veneration for the fortunate. 
 Their epithet " Felix" seems ever to imply a fa- 
 vourite of the gods. I am mistaken, or modern 
 Rome has generally acted in an opposite manner. 
 Numbers amongst them have been canonized upon 
 the single merit of misfortunes. 
 
 How different appears ancient and modern dialogue, 
 on account of superficial subjects upon which we 
 now generally converse ! add to this, the ceremonial 
 of modern times, and the number of titles with 
 which some kings clog and encumber conversation. 
 
 The celebrated boldness of an eastern metaphor 
 is, I believe, sometimes allowed it for the inconsid- 
 erable similitude it bears to its subject. 
 
 The style of letters, perhaps, should not rise 
 higher, than the style of refined conversation. 
 
 Love-verses written without real passion, are of- 
 ten the most nauseous of all conceits. Those writ- 
 ten from the heart will ever bring to mind that de- 
 lightful season of youth, and poetry, and love. 
 
 Virgil gives one such excessive pleasure in his 
 writings, beyond any other writer, by uniting the 
 
AND MANNERS. 133 
 
 most perfect harmony of metre, with the most plea- 
 smg ideas or images : 
 
 «* Qualem virgineo demessum polUceflorem ;'* 
 
 And 
 
 " Argentum Pariusve lapis" 
 
 With a thousand better instances. 
 
 Nothing tends so much to produce drukenness, or 
 even madness, as the frequent use of parenthesis 
 in conversation. 
 
 Few greater images of impatience, than a general 
 seeing his brave army over-matched and cut to pie- 
 ces, and looking out continually to see his ally ap- 
 proach with forces to his assistance. See Shakspeare. 
 
 '« When my dear Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, 
 «' Cast many a northward look to see his father 
 ♦* Bring up his pow'rs....but he did look in vain." 
 
 , BOOKS) iJfc* 
 
 SIMII.es, drawn from odd circumstances and 
 effects strangely accidental, bear a near relation to 
 false wit. The best instance of the kind is that cele- 
 brated line of Waller : 
 
 «» He grasp'd at love, and fiU'dhis hand with bays." 
 
 Virgil discovers less wit, and more taste, than any 
 writer in the world....Some instances ; 
 
 longumque bibebat amorem. " 
 M 
 
134 
 
 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 What Lucretius says of the " edita doctrin* sapien- 
 " turn templa"...." the temples of philosophers"... ap- 
 pears in no sense more applicable than to a snug and 
 easy chariot : 
 
 •' Dispicere unde queas alios, passimqiie videre 
 " Errare, atque viam palantes quaerere vitee." 
 
 i. e. From whence you may look down uponfootpas- 
 sengers, see them wandering on each side you, and 
 pick their way through the dirt : 
 
 «' seriously 
 
 " From learn'ng's tow 'ring height to gaze around, 
 " And see plebeian spirits range below." 
 
 There is a sort of masonry in poetry, w herein the 
 pause represents the joints of building ; which ought 
 in every line and course to have their disposition va- 
 ried. 
 
 The difference betwixt a witty writer and a writer 
 of taste is chiefly this. The former is negligent what 
 ideas he introduces, so he joins them surprisingly.... 
 The latter is priilcipaily careful what images he in- 
 troduces, and studies simplicity rather than surprize 
 in his manner of introduction. 
 
 It may in some measure account for the difference 
 of taste in the reading of books, to consider the differ- 
 ence of om- ears for music. One is not pleased with- 
 out a perfect melody of style, be the sense what it will; 
 another, of no ear for music, gives to sense its full 
 weight v.iLbout any deduction on account of harshness. 
 
 Harmony of period and melcdy of style have great- 
 er weiglit than is generally imagined in the judg- 
 ment we pass upon writing and writers. As a proof 
 of this, let us reflect, what texts of scripture, what 
 lines in poetry, or wiiat periods Vv'e most remember 
 and quote, either in verse or prose, and .we shall find 
 them to be only musical ones. 
 
AND MANNERS. 135 
 
 I wonder the ancient mythology never shews Apol- 
 lo enamoured of Venus ; considering the remarkable 
 deference that wit has paid to beauty in all ages. The 
 Orientals act more consonantly, when they suppose 
 the nightingale enamoured of the rose ; the most har- 
 monious bird of the fairest and most delightful fiower. 
 
 Hope is a flatterer; but the most upright of all 
 parasites ; for she frequents the poor man's hut, as 
 well as the palace of his superior. 
 
 What is termed humour in prose, I conceive, would 
 be considered as burlesque in poetry : of which in- 
 stances may be given. 
 
 Perhaps, burlesque may be divided into such as 
 turns chiefly upon the thought, and such as depends 
 more upon the expression : or we may ?.(]ti a third 
 kind, consisting in thoughts ridiculously dressed in 
 language much above or below their dignity. 
 
 The Splendid Shilling of Mr. Philips, and the Hu- 
 dibras of Butler, are the most obvious ins^ ances. But- 
 ler, however, depended much upon the ludicrous ef- 
 fect of his double rhymes. In other respects, to de- 
 clare my own sentiments, he is rather a witty writer 
 than a humorous one. 
 
 Scenes below verse, merely versified, lay claim to 
 a degree of humour. 
 
 Swift in poetry deserves a place somewhat betwixt 
 Butler and Horace. He has the wit of the fcrmer, 
 and the graceful negligence which we find in the lat- 
 ter's epistles and satires. I believe, few people dis- 
 cover less humour in Don Quixote than myself. For 
 beside the general sameness of adventure, whereby 
 it is easy to foresee what he will do on most occa- 
 sions, it is not so easy to raise a laugh from the wild 
 achievements of a madman. The natural passion 
 in that case is pity, with some small portion of mirth 
 at most. Sancho's character is indeed comic ; and, 
 
156 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 were it removed from the romance, would discover 
 how little there was of humour in the character of Don 
 Quixote. 
 
 It is a fine stroke of Cervantes, when Sancho, 
 sick of his government, makes no answer to his 
 comforters, but aims directly at his shoes and stock- 
 ings. 
 
 OF MEN AND MANNERS, 
 I. 
 
 THE arguments against pride drawn so fre- 
 quently by our clergy from the general infirmity, 
 circumstances, and catastrophe of our nature, are 
 extremely trifling and insignificant. Man is not 
 proud as a species, but as an individual ; not, as 
 comparing himself with other beings, but with his 
 fellow-creatures. 
 
 II. 
 
 I have often thought that people draw many of 
 their ideas of agreeableness, in regard to proportion, 
 colour, &C. from their own persons. 
 
 III. 
 
 It is happy enough that the same vices which im- 
 pair one's fortune, frequently ruin our constitution, 
 that the one may not survive the other. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Deference often shrinks and withers as much upon 
 the approach of intimacy, as the sensitive plant dop§ 
 upon the touch of one's finger. 
 
AND MANNER^. 
 
 37 
 
 V. 
 
 The word Folly is perhaps the prettiest word in 
 the language. Amusement and Diversion are good 
 Avell meaning words ; but Pastime is what never should 
 be used but in a bad sense : it is vile to say such a 
 thing is agreeable, because it helps to pass the time 
 away. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Dancing in the rough is one of the most natural 
 
 expressions of joy, and coincides with jumping 
 
 When it is regulated, it is merely, " cum ratione 
 insanire." 
 
 VII. 
 
 A plain, down-right, open hearted fellow's conver- 
 sation is as insipid, says Sir Plume, as a play with- 
 out a plot ; it does not afford one the amusement of 
 thinking. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The fortunate have many parasites : Hope is the 
 only one that vouchsafes attendance upon the wretch- 
 ed and the beggar. 
 
 IX. 
 
 A man of genius mistaking his talent loses the ad- 
 vantage of being distinguished ; a fool of being un- 
 distinguished. 
 
 X. 
 
 Jealousy is the fear or apprehension of superiori- 
 ty : Envy, our uneasiness under it. 
 
 XI. 
 What some people term Freedom is nothing else 
 than a liberty of saying and doing disagreeable 
 K2 
 
|>38 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 things. It is but carrying the notion a little higher, 
 and it would require us to break and have a head 
 broken reciprocally without offence. 
 
 XII. 
 I cannot see why people are ashamed to acknow- 
 ledge their passion for popularity. The love of po- 
 pularity is the love of being beloved. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The ridicule with which some people affect to tri- 
 umph over their superiors, is as though the moon 
 under an eclipse should pretend to laugh at the sun. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Zealous men are ever displaying to you the strength 
 of their belief, while judicious men are shewing yoi; 
 the grounds of it. 
 
 XV. 
 
 I consider your very testy and quarrelsome people, 
 in the same ligiit as I do a loaded gun : which may 
 by accident go off and kill one. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 I am afraid humility to genius is as an extinguisher 
 to a candle. ' 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Many persons, when exalted, assume an insolent 
 humility, who behaved before with an insolent haugh- 
 tiness. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Men are sometimes accused of pride, merely be- 
 cause their accusers would be proud themselves, if 
 they were in their places. 
 
AND MANNERS. 139 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Men of fine parts, they say, are often proud ; I 
 answer, dull people are seldom so, and both act upon 
 an appearance of reason. 
 
 XX. 
 
 It was observed of a most accomplished lady, that 
 she was withal so very modest, that one sometimes 
 thought she neglected the praises of her wit, because 
 she could depend on those of her beauty ; at other 
 times, that she slighted those of her beauty, knowing 
 she might rely on those of her wit. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The only difference betwixt wine and ale seems tO 
 be that of chemic and galenic medicines. 
 
 XXII. 
 It is the reduplication or accumulation of compli- 
 ments, that gives them their agreeableness : I mean 
 when, seeming to wander from the subject, you re- 
 turn to it again with greater force. As a common 
 instance : " I wish it was capable of a precise de- 
 monstration how much I esteem, love, and honour 
 you, beyond all the rich, the gay, the great of this 
 sublunary sphere : but I believe that both divines and 
 laymen will agree that the sublimest and most valu- 
 able truths are oftentimes least capable of demon- 
 stration." 
 
 XXIII. 
 It is a noble piece of policy that is used in some 
 arbitrary governments (but suitable to none other) to 
 instil it into the minds of the people that their Great 
 Duke knoweth^all things. 
 
140 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 In a heavy oppressive atmosphere, when the spirits 
 sink too low, the best cordial is to read over all the 
 letters of ones friends. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Pride and modesty are sometimes found to unite 
 together in the same character : and the mixture is as 
 salutary as that of wine and water. The worst com- 
 bination I know is that of avarice and pride ; as the 
 former naturally obstructs the good that pride even- 
 tually produces. What I mean is, expence. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 A great many tunes, by a variety of circumrotato- 
 ry flourishes, put one in mind of a lark's descent to 
 the ground. 
 
 XXVII. 
 People frequently use this expression, " I am in- 
 clined to think so and so ;" not considering that they 
 are then speaking the most literal of all truths. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The first part of a newspaper which an ill-natured 
 man examines, is, the list of bankrupts, and the bills 
 of mortality. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The chief thing which induces men of sense to use 
 airs of superiority, is the contemplation of coxcombs ; 
 that is, conceited fools ; who would otherwise run 
 away with the men of sense's privileges. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 To be entirely engrossed by antiquity* *'*ifid as it 
 were eaten up with rust, is a bad c« „ .,.ftent to the 
 present age. 
 
AND MANNERS. 141 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Ask to borrow six-pence of the Muses, and they 
 tell you at present they are out of cash, but hereaf- 
 ter they will furnish you with five thousand pounds. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 The argument against restraining our passions, be- 
 cause we shall not always have it in our power to 
 gratify them, is much stronger for their restraint, 
 than it is for their indulgence. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Few men, that would cause respect and distance 
 merely, can say any thing by which their end will be 
 so effectually answered as by silence. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 There is nothing more universally commended than 
 a fine day ; the reason is, that people can commend 
 it without envy. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 One may, modestly enough, calculate ones ap- 
 pearance for respect upon the road, where respect 
 and conveniences so remarkably coincide. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Although a man cannot procure himself a title at 
 pleasure, he may vary the appellation he goes by, 
 considerably. As, from Tom, to Mr. Thomas, to 
 Mr. Musgrove, to Thomas Musgrove, esquire. And 
 this by a behaviour of reserve, or familiarity. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 For a man of genius to condescend in conversation 
 with vulgar people, gives the sensation that a tall man 
 feels on being forced to stoop in a low room. 
 
143 ISSAYS ON MEN 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 There is nothing more universally prevalent than 
 flattery. Persons, who discover the flatterer, do not 
 always disapprove him, because he imagines them 
 considerable enough to deserve his applications. It 
 is a tacit sort of compliment, that he esteems them 
 to be such as it is worth his while to flatter : 
 
 " And when I tell him he hates flattery, 
 
 *« He says he does, being then most flattered." 
 
 SlIAKSPEARK. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 A person has sometimes more public than private 
 merit. Honorio and his family wore mourning for 
 their ancestor ; but that of all the world was internal 
 and sincere. 
 
 Your plain domestic people, who talk of their hu- 
 mility and home felt satisfactions, will in the same 
 breath discover how much they envy a shining char- 
 acter. How is this consistent ? 
 
 You are prejudiced, says Pedanticus ; I will not 
 take your word, or your character of that man. ...But 
 the grounds of my prejudice are the source of my 
 accusation. 
 
 A proud man's intimates are generally more at- 
 tached to him, than the man of merit and humility 
 can pretend his to be. The reason is the former 
 pays a greater compliment in his condescension. 
 
 The situation of a king, is so far from being 
 miserable, as pedants term it ; that, if a person have 
 magnanimity, it is the happiest I know ; as he has 
 assuredly the most opportunities of distinguishing 
 merit, and conferring obligations. 
 
AND MANNERS. \4S 
 
 XL. 
 
 *' Contemptx dominus splendidior rei." 
 
 A man, a gentleman, evidently appears more con- 
 siderable by seeming to despise his fortune, than a 
 citizen and mechanic by his endeavours to magnify it. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 What man of sense, for the benefit of coal-mines, 
 would be plagued with colliers conversation ? 
 
 XLII. 
 Modesty makes large amends for the pain it gives 
 the persons who labour under it, by the prejudice it 
 affords every worthy person in their favour. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Third thoughts often coincide with the -first, and 
 are generally the best grounded. We first relish na- 
 ture and the country ; then artificial amusements and 
 the city ; then become impatient to retire to the coun- 
 try again. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 While we labour to subdue our passions, we should 
 take care not to extinguish them. Subduing our 
 passions, is disengaging ourselves from the world ; 
 to which however, whilst we reside in it, we must 
 always bear relation ; and we may detach ourselves 
 to such a degree as to pass an useless and insipid 
 life, which we were not meant to do. Our existence 
 here is at least one part of a system. 
 
 A man has generally the good or ill qualities which 
 he attributes to mankind. 
 
144 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Anger and the thirst of revenge are a khid of fe- 
 ver. Fighting and law-suits, bleeding ; at least, an 
 evacuation. The latter occasions a dissipation of 
 money ; the former of those fiery spirits which cause 
 a preternatural fermentation. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Were a man of pleasure to arrive at the full ex- 
 tent of his several wishes, he must immediately feel 
 himself miserable. It is one species of despair to 
 have no room to hope for any addition to one's hap- 
 piness. 
 
 His following wish must then be to wish he had 
 some fresh object for his wishes. A strong argument 
 that our minds and bodies were both meant to be for 
 ever active. 
 
 XLVIT. 
 
 I have seen one evil underneath the sun, which 
 gives me particular mortification. 
 
 The reserve or shyness of men of sense generally 
 confines them to a small acquaintance ; and they find 
 numbers their avowed enemies,the similarity of whose 
 tastes, had fortune brought them once acquainted, 
 would have rendered them their fondest friends. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 A mere relator of matters of fact, is fit only for 
 an evidence in a court of justice. 
 
 XLTX. 
 
 If a man be of superior dignity to a woman, a 
 woman, is surely as much superior to a man that is 
 effeminated. Lily's rule in the grammar has well 
 enough adjusted this subordination. " The mascju- 
 
AND MANNERS. I45 
 
 line is more worthy than the feminine, and the femi- 
 nine more worthy than the neuter." 
 
 L. 
 
 A gentleman of fortune Avill be often complaining 
 of taxes ; that his estate is inconsiderable ; that he 
 can never make so much of it as the world is ready 
 to imagine. A mere citizen, on the other hand, is 
 always aiming to shew his riches; says that' he em- 
 ploys so many hands; he keeps his wife a chaise 
 and one ; and talks much of his Chinese ornaments 
 at his paltry cake-house in the country. They both 
 aim at praise, but of a very distinct kind. Now, 
 supposing the cit worth as much in money as the 
 other is in land, the gentleman surely' cijuses the 
 better method of ostentation, who considers himself 
 as somewhat superior to his fortune, than he who 
 seems to look up at his fortune, and consequently 
 sets himself beneath it. 
 
 LI. 
 
 The only kind of revenge which a man of sense 
 need take upon a scoundrel, is by a series of worthy 
 behaviour, to force him to admire and esteem his en- 
 emy, and yet irritate his animosity, by declining a 
 reconciliation. As Sir John Falstaff might say, 
 " turning even quarrels to commodity." 
 
 LII. 
 
 It is possible, by means of glue, to connect two 
 pieces of wood together ; by a powerful cement, to 
 join marble ; by the mediation of a priest, to unite 
 a man and woman ; but of all associations the most 
 effectual is betwixt an idiot and a knave. They be- 
 come in a manner incorporate. The former seems 
 SQ framed to admire and idolize the latter, tjiiat the 
 latter may seize and devour him as his proper prey. 
 
 N 
 
146 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 LIII. 
 
 The same degree of penetration that shews you 
 another in the wrong, shews him also, in respect to 
 that instance, your inferior : hence the observation, 
 and the real fact, that people of clear heads are what 
 the world calls opinionated. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 There is none can baiRe men of sense, but fools, 
 on whom they can make no impression. 
 
 LV. 
 
 The regard one shews economy, is like that we 
 shew an old aunt who is to leave us something- at 
 last. -Our behaviour on this account is as much con- 
 strained as that 
 
 " Of one well studied in a sad ostent 
 
 ♦* To please his granam." SHAKsrEAUE. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Fashion is a great restraint upon your persons of 
 taste and fancy ; who would otherwise, in the most 
 triHing instances, be able to distinguish themselves 
 from the vulgar. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 A writer who pretends to polish the human under- 
 standing, may beg by the side of Rutter's chariot 
 who sells a pov/der for the teeth. 
 
 I.VIII. 
 
 The difference there is betwixt honour and hones- 
 ty, seems to be chiefly the motive. The mere ho- 
 nest man does that from duty, which the man of ho- 
 nour does for the sake of character. 
 
AND MANNERS. UT 
 
 LIX. 
 
 The Proverb ought to. run, "a fool and his words 
 are soon parted ; a man of genius and his money." 
 
 LX. 
 
 A man of wit, genius, learning, is apt to think it 
 f^oi'-iewhat hard, that men of no M'it, no genius, no 
 learning, should have a greater share of wealth and 
 honours ; not considering that their own accomplish- 
 ment ought to be reckoned to them as their equiva- 
 lent. It is no reason that a person worth five thou- 
 sand pounds, should on that account have a claim to 
 twenty. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 A wife ought in reality to love her husband above 
 all the world ; but this preference I think should, in 
 point of politeness, be concealed. The reason is, 
 that it is disgusting to see an amiable woman mo- 
 noplized ;' audit is easy by proper management to 
 wave (all I contend for) the appearance. 
 
 LXI I. 
 
 There are some wounds given to reputation that 
 are like the wounds of an envenomed arrow ; where 
 we irritate and enlarge the orifice while w^e extract 
 the bearded weapon ; yet cannot the cure be complet- 
 ed otherwise. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Amongst all the vain-glorious professors of humili- 
 ty, you find none that will not discover hov-/ much 
 they envy a shining character : and this either by 
 censuring it themselves, or shewing a satisfaction in 
 such as do. Now there is this advantage at least ari- 
 sing from ambition, that it disposes one to disregard 
 a thousand instances of middling grandeur ; and re- 
 
148 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 duces one's emulanon to the narroAv circle of a few 
 that blaze. It is hence a convenient disposition in a 
 country place, where one is encompassed with such 
 as are merely richer, keep fine horses, a table, foot- 
 men ; make a decent figure as rural esquires ; yet, 
 after all.; discover no more than an every-day ple- 
 beian character. These a person of little ambition 
 might envy ; but another of a more extensive one 
 may, in any kind of circumstances, disregard. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 It is with some men as with some horses : what is 
 esteemed spirit in them, proceeds from fear. This 
 was undoubtedly the source of that seeming spirit 
 discovered by Tully in regard to his antagonist M. 
 Antony. He knew he must destroy him, or be de- 
 stroyed himself. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 The same qualities, joined with virtue, often fur- 
 nish out a great man, which, united with a different 
 principle, furnish out an highwayman ; I mean cour- 
 age and strong passions. And they may both join 
 in the same expression, though with a meaning some- 
 what varied.... 
 
 *' Tentavida via est, qua me quoque possum 
 •« ToUere hunio." 
 
 i. e. " Be promoted or be hanged." 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 True Honour is to honesty, what the court of Chan- 
 cery is to common law. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Misers, as death approaches, are heaping up a chest 
 of reasons to stand in more awe of him. 
 
AND MANNERS. 149 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 A man sooner finds out his own foibles in a stran- 
 ger, than any other foibles. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 It is favourable enough on the side of learning, 
 that if an historian mentions a good author, it does 
 not seem absurd to style h;m a great man : whereas 
 the same phrase would not be allowed to a mere il- 
 literate nobleman. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 It is less wonderful to see a wretched man com- 
 mence an hero, than an happy one. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 An high-spirit has often very different and even 
 contrary effects. It sometimes operates no otherwise 
 than like the " vis inertix ;" at others it induces men 
 to bustle and make their part good among their su- 
 periors. As Mr. Pope says, 
 
 " Some plunge in business, others shave their crowns." 
 
 It is by no means less forcible, when it withdraws 
 a man from the company of those with whom he can- 
 not converse on equal terms ; it leads him into soli- 
 tude, that, if he cannot appear their equal, he may 
 at least conceal his inferiority. It is sullen, obsti- 
 nate, disdainful, haughty, in no less a degree than 
 the other ; but is, perhaps, more genteel, and less 
 citizen-like. Sometimes the other succeeds, and 
 then it is esteemed preferable ; but in case it fail, it 
 not only exposes a person's meanness, but his impa- 
 tience undei'it; both of which the reserved spirit is 
 able to disguise. ...but then it stands no chance of re- 
 moving. " Pudor malus ulcera eclat." 
 N 2 
 
150 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Every single instance of a friend's insincerity en- 
 creases our dependence on the efficacy of the money. 
 It makes one covet what produces an external respect, 
 when one is disappointed of that which is internal and 
 sincere. This, perhaps, with decaying passions, con- 
 tributes to render age covetous. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 When physicians write of diseases, the prognos- 
 tics and the diagnostics, the symptoms and the pa- 
 roxysms, they give one fatal apprehensions for every 
 ache about us. When they come to treat of medi- 
 cines and applications, you seem to have no other dif-^ 
 ficulty but to decide by which means you would re- 
 cover. In short, to give the preference between a 
 
 linctus and an apozem. 
 
 » 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 One should no more trust to the skill of most apothe- 
 caries, than one would ask the opinionof their pestle 
 and mortar ; yet both are useful in their way. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 I believe there was never so reserved asolitary,but 
 felt some degree of pleasure at the first glimpse of 
 an human figure. The soul, however, unconscious 
 of its social bias in a crowd, will in solitude feel some 
 attraction towards the first person that we meet. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 In courts, the motion of the body is easy, and those 
 of the soul constrained: in the country, the gestures 
 of the body are constrained, and those of the soul su- 
 pine and careless. 
 
AND MANNERS. 151 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 One may easily enough guard against ambition till 
 five and twenty It is not ambition's day. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 It should seem that indolence itself would incline a 
 person to be honest ; as it requires infinitely greater 
 pains and contrivance to be a knave. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Perhaps rusticS; boors, and esquires, make a prin- 
 cipal figure in the country, as inanimates are always 
 allowed to be the chief figures in a landscape. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Titles make a greater distinction than is almost 
 tolerable to a British spirit. They almost vary the 
 species ; yet as they are oftentimes conferred, seem 
 not so much the reward, as the substitutes of merit. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 What numbers live to the age of fifty or sixty years, 
 yet, if estimated by their merit, are not worth the price 
 of a chick the moment it is hatched. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 A liar begins with making falsehood appear like 
 truth, and ends with making truth itself appear like 
 falsehood. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Fools are very often found united in the strictest 
 intimacies, as the lighter kinds of woods are the most 
 closely glewed together. 
 
152 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Persons of great delicacy should know the certain- 
 ty of the following truth. There are abundance of 
 cases which occasion suspense, in which, whatever 
 they determine, they will repent of their determina- 
 tion ; and this through a propensity of human nature 
 to fancy happiness in those schemes, which it does 
 not pursue. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 High-spirit in a man, is like a sword ; which, 
 though worn to annoy his enemies, yet is often trou- 
 blesome in a less degree to his friends. He can 
 hardly wear it so inoffensively, but it is apt to in- 
 commode one or other of the company. It is more 
 properly a loaded pistol, which accident alone may 
 fire,, and kill one. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 A miser, if honest, can be only honest bare weight. 
 
 Avarice is the most opposite of all characters to 
 that of God Almighty ; whose alone it is, to give 
 and not receive. 
 
 A miser grows rich by seeming poor ; an extrava- 
 gant man grows poor by seeming rich. 
 
 A grashopper is, perhaps, the best device for 
 coat armour of those who v/oiild be thought abori- 
 gines ; agreeable to the Athenian use of them. 
 
 Immoderate assurance Is perfect licentiousness. 
 
 V7hen a person is so far engaged in a dispute as to 
 
 wish to get the victory, he ought ever to desist 
 
 The idea of conquest will so dazzle him, that it is 
 hardly possible he should discern the truth. 
 
 I have sometimes thought the mind so calculated, 
 that a small degree of force may impel it to a cer- 
 tain pitch of pleasure or of pain ; beyond which it 
 will not pass, by any impetus whatsoever. 
 
AND MANNERS. lo3 
 
 I doubt whether it be not true, that we hate those 
 faults most in others which we are guilty of ourselves. 
 
 A man of thorough sense scarce admires even any 
 one ; but he must be an ideot that is the admirer of 
 a fool. 
 
 It may be prudent to give up the more trivial parts 
 of character for the amusement of the invidious : as 
 a man willingly relinquishes his silver to save his 
 gold from an highwayman. Better be ridiculed for 
 an untoward peruke, than be attacked on the score 
 of morals, as one would be rather pulled by the hair, 
 than stabbed to the heart. 
 
 Virtue seems to be nothing more than a motion 
 consonant to the system of things. Were a planet 
 to fly from its orbit, it would represent a vicious man. 
 
 It is difficult not to be angry at beings -wq know 
 capable of acting otherwise than they do. One ought 
 no more, if one reflects, to be angry at the stupidity 
 of a man than of a horse, except it be vincible and 
 voluntary ; and yet the practice is otherwise. 
 
 People say, " Do not regard what he says, now he 
 is in liquor." Perhaps it is the only time he ought 
 to be regarded : " Aperit praecordia Liber." 
 
 Patience is the Panacea; but where does it grow, 
 or who can swallow it. 
 
 Wits uniformly exclaim against fools, yet fools 
 are their proper foil ; and it is from them alone they 
 can learn what figure themselves make. Their be- 
 haviour naturally falls in witji the generality, and 
 furnishes a better mirror than that of artful people, 
 who are sure enough to deceive you either on the 
 favourable or the ill-natured side. ^ 
 
 We say, he is a man'of sense who acknowledges 
 the same truths that wq do ; that he is a man of taste 
 who allows the same beauties. We consider him as 
 a person of better sense and finer taste, who discerns 
 more truths and more beauties in conjunction with 
 
154 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ourselves : but we allow neither appellation to the 
 man who differs from us. 
 
 We deal out our genuine esteem to our equals ; 
 our affection for those beneath us ; and a reluctant 
 sort of respect to those that are above us. 
 
 Glory relaxes often and del)ilitates the mind ; cen- 
 sure stimulates and contracts both to an extreme. 
 
 Simple fame is, perhaps, the proper medium. 
 
 Persons of new families do well to make magnifi- 
 cent funerals, ,sumptuous v.'eddings, remarkable en- 
 tertainments ; to exlubita number of servants in rich 
 and ostentatious liveries ; and to take every public- 
 occasion of imprinting on the mob an habitual no- 
 tion of their superiority. For so is deference obtain- 
 ed from that quarter : 
 
 " Stupet in tiuilis &. iniaginibus." 
 
 One scarce sees how it is possible for a country 
 girl or a cou.ntry fellow to preserve their chastity. 
 They have neither the philosophical pleasure of books, 
 nor the luxurious pleasure of a table, nor the refined 
 amusement of building, planting, drawing, or design- 
 ing, to divert their imagination from an object to which 
 they seem continually to stimulate it by provocative 
 illusions. Add to this the health and vigour that are 
 almost peculiar to them. 
 
 I am afraid, there are many ladies who only ex- 
 change the pleasures of incontinence for the pleasure 
 they derive from censure. At least it is no injustice 
 to conclude so, where^a person is extravagantly cen- 
 sorious. 
 
 Persons of judgment and understanding may be 
 divided into two sorts. Tl^ose whose judgment is 
 so extensive as to comprehend a great deal ; existen- 
 ces, systems, universals : but as there are some eyes 
 so constituted as to take in distant objects, yet be ex- 
 celled by others in regard to objects minute or near; 
 so there are other understandings better calculated 
 for the examination of particular objects. 
 
AND MANNERS. 155 
 
 The mind is at first an open field without partitions 
 or enclosures. To make it turn to most account, it 
 is very proper to divide and enclose. In other words, 
 to sort our observations. 
 
 Some men are called sagacious, merely on account 
 of their avarice : whereas a child can clench its list the 
 moment it is born. 
 
 It is a point of prudence, when you converse with 
 your inferior, to consider yourself as conversing with 
 his inferior, with v/hom no doubt he may have the 
 same connexion that you have with him : and to be 
 upon your guard accordingly. 
 
 How deplorable then is a person's condition, when 
 his mind can only be supported by fiattery, and his 
 constitution but by cordials I when the relief of his 
 present complaint undermines its own efficacy, yet 
 encreases the occasion for which it is used 1 Short 
 is then the duration of our tranquillity, or of our lives. 
 
 A man is not esteemed ill-natured for any excess 
 of social affection ; or an indiscreet profusion of his 
 fortune upon his neighbours, companions, or friends ; 
 although the true measure of his affections is as much 
 impaired by this, as by selfishness. 
 
 If any one's curse can effect damnation, it is not 
 that of the pope, but that of tlie poor. 
 
 People of the finest and most lively genius have 
 the greatest sensibility, of consequence the most lively 
 passions ; the violence of which puts their conduct 
 upon a footing with that of fools. Fools discern the 
 weaknesses which they have in common with them- 
 selves ; but are not sensible of their excellencies, to 
 which they have no pretensions ; of course, always in- 
 clined to dispute the superiority. 
 
 Wit is the refractory pupil of judgment. 
 
 Virtue should be considered as a part of taste (and 
 perhaps it is so more in this age, than in any prece- 
 ding one) and should as much avoid deceit or sinister 
 meanings in discourse, as they would do puns, bad 
 language, or false grammar. 
 
156 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 Think, when you are enraged at any one, what 
 would probably become your sentiments, should he 
 die during the dispute. 
 
 The man of a towering ambition, or a well-re,s:ulat- 
 ed taste has fewer objects to envy or to covet than the 
 grovellers. 
 
 Refined sense to a person that is to converse alone 
 with boors, is a manifest inconvenience. AsFalstaft' 
 says (with some little variation) 
 
 ** Company, witty company, has been the ruin of me." 
 
 If envious people Avere universally to ask themselves 
 whether they would exchange their entire situitions 
 with the per&ons envied (I mean their minds, passions, 
 notions, as v.ell as their persons, fortunes, dignities, 
 Sec. Sec.) I will presume the self-love common to hu- 
 man nature would make them all prefer their own 
 condition : 
 
 "Quidstatis ? nolint....atqui licet esse beatis." 
 
 . If this rule were applied, as it surely ought to be, 
 it bids fair to prove an universal cure for envy : 
 
 " Quanto quisque sibi pi Lira negaverit, 
 " A Diis plura feret.".... Self-denial. 
 
 A person, elevated one degree above the populace, 
 assumes more airs of superiority than one that is rais- 
 ed ten. The reason is somewhat obvious. His su- 
 periority is more contestible. 
 
 The character of a decent, well-behaved gentleman- 
 like man seems more easily attainable by a person of 
 no great parts or passions, than by one of greater 
 genius and more volatility. It is there no misman- 
 agement, for the former to be chiefly ambitious of it. 
 When a man's capacity does not enable him to enter- 
 tain or animate the company, it is the best he can do 
 to render himself inoffensive, and to keep his teeth 
 
AND MANNERS. 157 
 
 clean. But the person who has talents for discourse, 
 and a passionate desire to enliven conversation, ought 
 to have many improprieties excused, which in the 
 other were unpardonable. A lady of good-nature 
 would forgive the blunder of a country esquire, who, 
 through zeal to serve her with a glass of claret, should 
 involve his spurs in her Brussels apron. On thecon- 
 tra.ry, the fop (who may in some sense use the words 
 of Horace. 
 
 *' Quod verum atque decens euro 8c rogo Sc 
 «« omiiis in hoc sum") 
 
 w^ould be entitled to no pardon for such unaccounta- 
 ble misconduct. 
 
 Man in general, maybe considered as a mechanic, 
 and the formation of happiness as his business or em- 
 ployment : Virtue, his repository or collection of in- 
 struments ; the goods of fortune as his materials : in 
 proportion as workmen, the instruments, and the ma- 
 terials excel, the work will be executed in the great- 
 er perfection. 
 
 The silly censorious are the very " fel nature,'* 
 *' the most bitter of all bitter things ;" from the hys- 
 sop that grows upon the wall, to the satirist that pis- 
 ses against it. 
 
 I have known a sensible man of opinion that one 
 should not be solicitous about a wife's understanding. 
 A woman's sense was with him a phrase to express 
 a degree of knowledge, which was likely to contribute 
 mighty little to a husband's happiness. I cannot be 
 of his opinion. I am convinced, that as judgment 
 is the portion of our sex, so fancy and imagination 
 are more eminently the lot of theirs. If so after hon- 
 esty of heart, what is there we should so much re- 
 quire ? A wife's beauty will soon decay, it is doubt- 
 ful whether in reality first, or in our own opinion. 
 Either of these is sufficient to pall the raptures of en- 
 joyment. We are then to seek for something that 
 O 
 
153 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 will retain its novelty ; or, what is equivalent, will 
 change its shape when her person palls hy its identi- 
 ty. Fancy and genius bid fairest for this, which have 
 as many shapes, as there can happen occasions to ex- 
 ert them. Good-nature, I always suppose. The for- 
 mer will be expedient to exhilarate and divert us ; the 
 latter to preserve our mindsin a teinper to be divert- 
 ed. 
 
 I have known some attorn ies of reputable families, 
 and whose ori^^inal dispositions seemed to have been 
 open and humane. Yet can I scarce recollect one, 
 in whom the gentleman, the christian, and even the 
 man, was not swallowed up in the lawyer: they are 
 not only the greatest tyrants, but the greatest pedants 
 of all mankind. 
 
 Reconciliation is the tenderest part either of friend- 
 ship or of love ; the latter more especially, in which 
 the Boul is more remarkably softened. Were a per- 
 son to make use of art in procuring the afiection of 
 his mistress, it were, perhaps, his most effectual meth- 
 ed to dontrive a slight estrangement, and then, as it 
 vv^erc imperceptibly, bring on a reconciliation. The 
 soul here discovers a kind of elasticity ; and, being 
 forced back, returns with an additional violence. 
 
 Virtue may be considered as the only means of dis- 
 pensing happiness in proper portions to every moment 
 of our time. 
 
 To judge whether one has sufficient pleasure to 
 render tl.c continuation of life agreeable, it is not 
 enough to say, Would you die ? Take away first, the 
 hope of better scenes in this life, the fears of worse 
 in another, and the bodily pain of dying. 
 
 The fear of death seems as natural, as the sensa- 
 tion of lust or of hunger : the first and last, for the 
 preservation of the individual ; the other, for the 
 continuation of the species. 
 
 It seems obvious that God, who created the world, 
 intends the happiness and perfecticn of the system 
 
AND MANNERS. lo9 
 
 he created. To effect the bappiness of the Avhole, 
 self-love, in its degree, is as requisite as social; for 
 I am myself a part of that whole, as well as another. 
 The difficulty of ascertaining what is virtue, lies in 
 proportioning the degrees of self-love and social. 
 *' Proximus sum egomet mihi."...." Tunica pallio 
 proprior."....', Charity begins at home." It is so. 
 It ought to be so; nor is there any inconvenience 
 arises to the public, because it is general. Were 
 this away, the individual must soon perish, and con- 
 sequently the whole body. A man has every moment 
 occasion to exert his self-love for the sake of self- 
 preservation ; consequently this ought to be stronger, 
 in order to keep him upon his guard. A centinel's 
 attention should be greater than that of a soldier on 
 a review. 
 
 The social, thoiigh alike constant, is not equally 
 intense ; because the selfish, being universal, ren- 
 ders the social less essential to the well-being of one's 
 neighbour. In short, the self-love and the social 
 ought to bear such proportion as we find they gen- 
 erally do. If the selfish passion of the rest prepon- 
 derate, it would be seli-destructive in a few indivi- 
 duals to be over-socially disposed. If the social one 
 prevails generally, to be of remarkable selfishness 
 must obstruct the good of society. 
 
 Many feel a superfluous uneasiness for want of due 
 attention to the following truth. 
 
 We are oftentimes in suspense betwixt the choice 
 of different pursuits. We chuse one at last doubt- 
 ingly, and with an unconquered hankering after the 
 other. We find the scheme, which we have chosen, 
 
 answer our expectations but indifferently Most 
 
 worldly projects will. W^e, therefore, repent of our 
 choice, and immediately fancy happiness in the path.s 
 which we decline ; and this heightens our uneasiness. 
 We might at least escape the aggravation of it. It 
 is not improbable, we had been more unhappy, but 
 
160 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 extremely probable, we had not been less so, had 
 we made a different decision. This, however re- 
 lates to schemes that are neither virtuous nor vicious. 
 
 Happy doge (says a certain splenetic) our footmen 
 and the populace ! Farewell, says Esop, in Van- 
 brug'h, whom I both envy and despise ! The servant 
 meets with hundreds whose conversation can amuse 
 him, for one that is the least qualified to be a com- 
 panion for his master. 
 
 " A person cannot eat his cake and have it," is, 
 as Lord Shaftesbury observes, a proper answer to many 
 splenetic people*. But what imports it to be in 
 the possession of a cake that you do not eat ? If then 
 
 the cake be made to be eaten, says lady L , 
 
 better eat it when you are most hungry, "^oor wo- 
 man ! she seems to have acted by this maxim, but 
 yet could not avoid crying for the cake she had eaten. 
 
 You should calculate your appearance for the place 
 v/hcrc you reside. One would rather be a very 
 Knight in the country than his Honour Mr. Such- 
 a-one. 
 
 The most consummate selfishness would incline a 
 person at his death, to dispose of his effects agreea- 
 bly to duty ; that he may secure an interest in the 
 world to which he is going. 
 
 A justice and his clerk is now little more than a 
 blind man and his dog. The profound ignorance of 
 the former, together with the canine impudence and 
 rapacity of the latter, will but rarely be found 
 wanting to vindicate the comparison. The principal 
 part of the similitude will appear obvious to every 
 one ; I mean tliat the justice is as much dependent 
 on his clerk for superior insight and implicit guidance, 
 as the blind fellow on his cur that leads him in a 
 string. Add to this, that the offer of a crust will se- 
 duce the comluctors of either to drag their masters 
 into a kennel. 
 
 * Complainants. 
 
AND MANNERS. 161 
 
 To remark the different figure made by different 
 persons, under the same circumstances of fortune 1 
 Two friends of mine upon a journey had so contriv- 
 ed as to reduce their finances to a single sixpence 
 each. The one with the genteel and liberal air of 
 abundance, gave his to a black-shoe-boy, who wish- 
 ed his honour a thousand blessings; the other, hav- 
 ing lodged a fortnight with a nobleman that was his 
 patron, offered his to the butler, as an instance of 
 his gratitude, who with difficulty forebore to curse 
 him to his face. 
 
 A glass or two of wine extraordinary only raises 
 a valetudinarian to that warmth of social affection, 
 which had naturally been his lot, in a better state of 
 health. 
 
 Deference is the most complicate, the most indi- 
 rect, and the most elegant of all compliments. 
 
 Be cautious not to consider a person as your supe- 
 rior, merely because he is your superior in the point 
 of assurance. This has often depressed the spirit of 
 a person of desert and diffidence. 
 
 A proper assurance, and competent fortune, are 
 essential to liberty. 
 
 Taste is pursued at a less expence than fashion. 
 
 Our time in towns seems short to pass, and long 
 to reflect upon; in the country, the reverse. 
 
 Deference, before company, is the genteelestkind 
 of flattery. The flattery of epistles affects one less, 
 as they cannot be shewn without an appearance of 
 vanity. Flattery of the verbal kind is gross. In 
 short, applause is of too coarse a nature to be swal- 
 lowed in the gross. ...though the extract or tincture 
 be ever so agreeable. 
 
 When a person, for a splendid servitude, foregoes 
 anhumbleindependency, it may be called an advance- 
 ment, if you please : but it appears to me an ad- 
 vancement from the pit to the gallery. Liberty is a 
 more invigorating cordial than tokay. 
 02 
 
162 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 Though punctilios are trifling, they maybe as im- 
 portant as the frienclsliip of some persons that regard 
 them. ...Indeed it is almost an universal practice to 
 rail at punctilio; and it seems in some measure a 
 consequence of our attachment to French fashions. 
 However, it is extremely obvious, that punctilio nev- 
 er caused half the quarrels, that have risen from the 
 freedom of behaviour, which is its opposite extreme. 
 Were all men rational and civilized, the use of ce- 
 remony would be superfluous : but as the case is, it 
 at least fiixes some bounds to the encroachments of 
 eccentric people, who, under the denomination of 
 freedom, might demand the privilege of breaking 
 your head. 
 
 There seem near as many people that want pas- 
 s-ion as want reason. 
 
 The world would be more happy, if persons gave 
 up more time to an intercourse of frjeiidship. But 
 money engrosses all our deference ; andfwe scarce en- 
 joy a social hour, because we think it unjustly stolen 
 from the main business of our lives. 
 
 The state of man is not unlike that of a fish hook- 
 ed by an angler. Death allows us a little line. We 
 flounce, and sport, and vary our situation : but when 
 we would extend our schemes, we discover our con- 
 finement, checked and linated by a superior hand, 
 who drags us from our element whensoever he 
 pleases. 
 
 The vulgar trace your faults ; those you have in 
 common with themselves : but they have no idea of 
 your excellencies, to which they have no pretensions. 
 
 A person is something taller by holding up his 
 head. 
 
 A man of sense can be adequately esteemed by 
 none other than a man of sense : a fool by none but 
 a foel. We ought to act upon this principle. 
 
 How melancholy is it to travel, late and fatigued, 
 upon any ambitious project on a winter's niQ;ht j and 
 
AND MANNERS. 
 
 163 
 
 observe the lights of cottages where all the unambi- 
 tious people are warm and happy, or at rest in their 
 
 beds. Some of them says W , as wretched as 
 
 princes, for aught we know to the contrary ? 
 
 It is generally a principle of indolence that makes 
 one so disgusted with an artful character. We hate 
 the confinement of standing centinels, in our own 
 defence. 
 
 To behave with complaisance, where one foresees 
 one must needs quarrel, is like eating before a vomit. 
 
 Some persons may \vith justice boast, that they 
 knew as much as others when they were but ten 
 years old : and that their present knowledge com- 
 prehends after the manner that a larger trunk con- 
 tains the smaller ones it encloses. 
 
 It is possible to discover in some faces the features 
 nature intended, had she not been some-how thwart- 
 ed in her operations. Is it not easy to remark the 
 same distortion in some minds ? There is a phrase 
 pretty frequent amongst the vulgar, and which they 
 apply to absolute fools. ...That they have had a rock 
 
 too much in their cradles With me, it is a most 
 
 expressive idiom to describe a dislocated understand- 
 ing : an understanding, for instance, which, like a 
 watch, discovers a multitude of such parts, as appear 
 obviously intended to belong to a system of the 
 greatest perfection ; yet which, by some unlucky 
 jumble, falls infinitely short of it. 
 
 Is it not the wound our pride sustains by being 
 deceived, that makes us more averse to hypocrites, 
 than to the most audacious and barefaced villain ? 
 Yet it seems as much a piece of justice to. commend 
 a man for talking more honestly than he acts, as it 
 is to blame a man for acting more dishonestly than 
 he talks. The sum of the whole, however, is that 
 the one adds to other crimes by his deceit, and the 
 other by his impudence. 
 
164 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 A fool can neither eat, nor drink, nor stand, nor 
 walk ; nor, in short, laugh, nor cry, nor take snuff, 
 like a man of sense. How obvious the distinction ! 
 
 Independency may be found in comparative, as 
 well as absolute abundance : I mean where a person 
 contracts his desires within the limits of his fortune. 
 
 There are very few persons w'ho do not lose some- 
 thing of their esteem for you, upon your approach 
 to familiarity. 
 
 The silly excuse that is often drawn from want 
 of time to correspond, becomes no one besides a cob- 
 ler with ten or a dozen children dependent on a tatch- 
 ing end. 
 
 One, perhaps, ought to make funerals as sump- 
 tuous as possible, or as private : either by obscurity 
 to elude, or by splendor to employ, the attention, 
 that it may not be engaged by the most shocking 
 circumstance of our humanity. 
 
 It happens a little unluckily, that the persons who 
 have the most intimate contempt of money, are the 
 same that have tlie strongest appetites for the plea- 
 sures it produces. 
 
 We are apt to look for those virtues in the cha- 
 racters of noblemen, that are but rarely to be found 
 any where, except in the preambles to their patents. 
 Some shining. exceptions may be made to this rule : 
 In general we may consider their appearance w ith us 
 in public, as one does our wearing apparel. " Which 
 lord do you wear to day ? Why I did think to wear 
 my lord **** ; but, as there will be little company 
 in the Mall, I will e'en content myself to \vear the 
 same noble peer I wore yesterday." 
 
 The worst inconvenience of a small fortune is that 
 it will not admit of inadvertency. Inadvertency, 
 however, ought to be placed at the head of most 
 men's yearly accounts, and a sum as regularly allot- 
 ted to it as to any other article. 
 
AND MANNERS. 165 
 
 It is with our judgments, as with our eyes. Some 
 can see objects at a greater distance more distinctly, 
 at the same time less distinctly than others the ob- 
 jects that are near them. 
 
 Notwithstanding the airs men give themselves, I 
 believe no one sees family to more advantage, than 
 the persons that have no share in it. 
 
 How important is the eye to the appearance of an 
 human face ! the chief index of temper, understand- 
 ing, health, and love ! What prodigious influence 
 mast the same misfortunes have on some persons be- 
 yond others 1 as the loss of an eye to a mere insolent 
 beauty without the least philosophy to support her- 
 self. 
 
 The person least reserved in his censure of ano- 
 ther's excess in equipage, is commonly the person 
 who would exhibit the same if it had been within his 
 power ; the source of both being a disregard to de- 
 corum. Likewise he that violently arraigns, or fond- 
 ly indulges it, agree in considering it a little too se- 
 riously. 
 
 Amid the most mercenary ages, it is but a secon- 
 dary sort of admiration that is bestowed upon mag- 
 nificence. 
 
 An order of beauties, as of knights, with a style 
 appropriated to them (as for instance. To the Right 
 Beautiful Lady Such-a-one) would have as good a 
 foundation as any other class, but would, at the same 
 time, be the most invidious of any order that was 
 ever instituted. 
 
 The first maxim a child is taught, is that 
 
 *' Learning is better than house and land ;'* 
 
 but how little is its influence as he grows up to ma- 
 turity ! 
 
 There is somewhat very astonishing in the record 
 of our most celebrated victories : I mean, the small 
 
166 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 number of the conquerors killed in proportion to the 
 conquered. At Agincourt, it is said, were ten thou- 
 sand, and fourteen thousand massacred. Livy's ac- 
 counts of this sort are- so astonishing, that one is apt 
 to disbelieve the historian. ...All the explanation one 
 can find is, that the gross slaughter is made when one 
 side takes to flight. 
 
 A person that is disposed to throw off all reserve 
 before an inferior, should reflect, that he has ajso his 
 inferiors, to whom he uiay be equally communica- 
 tive. 
 
 It is impossible for a man of sense to guard against 
 the mortification that may be given him by fools, or 
 hetercclite characters; because he cannot foresee them. 
 A wit-would cannot afford to discard a frivolous con- 
 ceit, though it tends to affront you : an old maid, a 
 country put, or a college pedant, will ignorantly or 
 "wilfully blunder upon such hints as much discompose 
 you. 
 
 A man that is solicitious about his health, or ap- 
 prehensive of some acute disorder, should write a 
 journal of his constitution, for the better instruction 
 of his physician. 
 
 Ghosts have no m-ore connexion with darkness, 
 than the mystery of a barber with that of a surgeon ; 
 yet we find they go together. Perhaps Nox and 
 Chaos were their mythological parents. 
 
 He makes a lady but a poor recompence who mar- 
 ries her, because he has kept her company long af- 
 ter his affection is estranged. Does he not rather 
 encrease the injury ? 
 
 Second thoughts oftentimes are the very worst of 
 all thoughts, i'irst and third very often coincide. 
 Indeed second thoughts are too frequently formed by 
 the love of novelty, of shewing penetration, of dis- 
 tinguishing ourselves from the mob, and have conse- 
 quently less of simplicity, and more of afiVctation. 
 This, hov/ ever, regards principally objects of taste 
 
AND MANNERS. 167 
 
 and fancy. Third thoughts, at least, are here very- 
 proper mediators. 
 
 " Set a beggar on horse-back, and he'll ride," is a 
 common proverb and a real truth. The *' novus 
 homo" is an *' inexpertus homo," and consequently- 
 must purchase finery, before he kno'.vs the emptiness 
 of it experimentally. The established gentleman 
 disregards it, through habit and familiarity. 
 
 The foppery of love-verses, when a person is ill 
 and indisposed, is perfect ipecacuanha. 
 
 Antii^uity of fanjily, and distinctions of gentry, 
 have, perhaps, less weightin this age, than they had 
 ever heretofore : the bend dexter or sinister ; the 
 chief, the canton, or the cheveron, are greatly out 
 of date. The heralds are at length discovered to 
 have no legal authority. Spain, indeed, continues 
 to preserve the distinction, and is poor. France (by 
 their dispute about trading nobility) seems inclined 
 to shake it off. • Who now looks with veneration on 
 thfi ante-diluvian pedigree of a Welchman ? Proper- 
 ty either is, or is sure to purchase distinction, let the 
 king at arms, or the old maiden aunt, preach as long 
 as either pleases. It is so ; perhaps it ought to be 
 so. All honours should lie open, all encouragement 
 be allowed to the members of trade in a trading na- 
 tion : and as the nobility find it very expedient to 
 partake of their profits so that they, in return, should 
 obtain a share in the others honours. One would, 
 however, wish the acquisition of learning was as sure 
 a road to dignity, as that of riches. 
 
I6i ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 O^ BOOKS AND V/RIfERS, 
 
 IT is often asserted, by pretenders to singular 
 penetration, that the assistance fancy is supposed to 
 draw from wine, is merely imaginary and chimeri- 
 cal : that all which the poets have urged on this 
 head is absolute rant and enthusiasm ; and has no 
 foundation in truth or nature. I am inclined to think 
 otherwise. Judg-ment, I readily allow, derives no 
 benefit from the noblest cordial.* But persons of a 
 phlegmatic constitution have those excellencies often 
 suppressed, of which their imagination is truly capa- 
 ble, by reason of a lentor, which wine may naturally 
 remove. It raises low spirits to a pitch necessary 
 for the exertion of fancy. It confutes the " Non est 
 tanti," so frequently a maxim with speculative per- 
 sons. It quickens that ambition, or that social bias, 
 which makes a person wish to shine, or to plea^. 
 Ask what tradition says of Mr. Addison's conversa- 
 tion. But instances in point of conversation come 
 within every one's observance. Why then may it 
 not be allowed to produce the same effects in writing ? 
 
 The affected phrases I hate most, are those on 
 which your half-wits found their reputation. Such 
 as " pretty trifler, fair plaintiff, lovely architect," &c. 
 
 Doctor Young has a surprising knack of bringing 
 thoughts from a distance, from their lurking places, 
 in a moment's time. 
 
 There is nothing so disagreeable in works of hu- 
 mour as an insipid, unsupported, vivacity ; the very 
 husks of drollery ; bottled small-beer ; a man out-ri- 
 ding his horse ; lewdness and impotence ; a fiery ac- 
 tor in a phlegmatic scene ; an illiterate and stupid 
 preacher discoursing upon urim and thummim, and 
 beating the pulpit cushion in such amanner, as though 
 he would make the dust and the truth fly out of it at 
 
AND MANNERS. 16^ 
 
 An editor, or a translator, collects the merits of dif- 
 ferent writers ; and forming all into a wreath, bestows 
 It on his author's tomb. The thunder of Demost- 
 henes, the weight of Tally, the judgment of Taci- 
 tus, the elegance ofLivy,the subliaiity of Homer, the 
 majesty of Virgil, the v/it of Ovid, the propriety of 
 Horace, the accuracy of Terence, the brevity of Phx- 
 drus, and the poignancy of Juvenal (with every name 
 of note he can possibly recal to mind) are given to 
 some ancient scribbler, in whom affectation and the 
 love of novelty disposes him to find out beauties. 
 
 Humour and Vanbrugh against wit and Congreve. 
 
 The vacant skull of a pedant generally furnishes 
 out a throne and temple for vanity. 
 
 May not the custom of scraping when we bow, be 
 derived from the ancient custom of throwing their 
 shoes backwards off their feet ? 
 
 " A bird in the air shall carry the tale, and that 
 which hath wings shall tell the matter." Such is also 
 tiie present phrase...." A little bird told it me"....says 
 nurse. ...The preference which some give to Virgil 
 before Homer is often owing to complexion : some 
 are more formed to enjoy the grand ; and others, the 
 beautiful. But as for invention and sublimity, the 
 most shining qualities of imagination, there is surely 
 
 no comparison between them Yet I enjoy Virgil 
 
 more. 
 
 Agreeable ideas rise, in proportion as they ' are 
 drawn from inanimates, from vegetables, from ani- 
 mals, and from human creatures. 
 
 One reason why the sound is sometimes an echo- 
 to the s^nse,is that the pleasantest objects have often 
 the most harmonious names annexed to them. 
 
 A man of a merely argumentative cast will read, 
 poetry as prose ; will only regard the quantum it con- 
 tains of solid reasoning: just as a clown attacks a de- 
 sert, considering it as so much victuals, and regardless 
 of those lively or emblematical decorations, which the 
 P 
 
170 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 cook, for many sleepless nights, has endeavoured to 
 bestow upon it. 
 
 Notwithstanding all that Rousseau has advanced so 
 very ingeniously upon plays and players, their pro- 
 fession is, like that of a painter, one of the imita- 
 tive arts, whose means are pleasure, and whose end 
 is virtue. They both alike, for a subsistence, submit 
 themselves to public opinion : and the dishonour that 
 has attended the last profession, seems not easily ac- 
 countable. 
 
 As there are evidently words in English poetry 
 that have all the force of a dactyle, and, if properly 
 inserted, have no small beauty on that account, it 
 seems absurd to contract, or print them otherwise 
 than at length. 
 
 *' The loose wall tottering o'er the trembling shade." 
 
 Ogilvy's Day of Judgment. 
 
 « Trembling" has also the force of a dactyle in a less 
 degree. ...but cannot be written otherwise. 
 
 I have sometimes thought Virgil so remarkably 
 musical, that were his lines read to a musician, whol- 
 ly ignorant of the language, by a person of capaci- 
 ty to give each word its proper accent, he would not 
 fail to distinguish in it all the graces of harmony. 
 
 I think, I can observe a peculiar beauty in the ad- 
 dition of a short syllable, at the end of a blank 
 verse : I mean, however, in blank dialogue. • In 
 other poetry it is as sure to flatten ; which may be 
 discerned in Prior's translation of Callimachus, viz. 
 ...." the holy victim. ...Dictxan, hearst thou. ...Birth, 
 great Rhea....Inferior reptile...." Sec for the transla- 
 tion abounds with them ; and is rendered by that 
 means prosaic. 
 
 The case is only, prose being an imitation of com- 
 mon life, the nature of an ode requires that it should 
 be lifted some degrees higher. 
 
AND MANNERS. 
 
 171 
 
 But in dialogue, the language ought never to leave 
 nature the least ought of sight ; and especially m here 
 pity is to be produced, it appears to receive an ad- 
 vantage from the melancholy flow this syllable occa- 
 sions. Let me produce a few instances from Ot- 
 way's tragedy of the Unhappy Marriage ; and, in or- 
 der to form a judgment, let the reader substitute a 
 word of equal import, but of a syllable less, in the 
 place of the instances I produce (some instances ar# 
 numberless, where they familiarize and give an eas« 
 to dialogue. 
 
 Sure my ill fate's upon mc' 
 
 ...." Why was I not laid in my peaceful grave, 
 With my poor parents, and at rest as they are? 
 
 ...." 1 never see you now....you have been kinder." 
 
 ...." Why was I made with all my sex's softness. 
 Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies ? 
 I'll see Castalio....tax him with his falsehood." 
 
 " Should you charge rough, 
 
 I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing." 
 
 ....«« When thou art from me, every place is desert." 
 
 " Surely Paradise is round me, 
 
 And every sense is full of thy perfection. 
 
 To hear thee speak might calm a madman's frenzy. 
 
 'Till by attention, he forgot his sorrows." 
 
 ....«« 'Till good men wish him dead.. ..or I offend him." 
 
 ...." And hang upon you like a drowning creature." 
 
 ,..." Cropt this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness." 
 
 ...." Give me Chamont, and let the «vorld forsake mc.' 
 
 " I've drank an healing draught 
 
 For all my cares, and never more shall wrong thee." 
 
J73 Essays on men 
 
 ...." When I'm laid low in the cold grave forgotten, 
 May you be happy in a fairer bride, 
 But none can ever love you, like Monimia." 
 
 I should imagine, that, in some or most of these 
 examples, a particular degree of tenderness is owing 
 o the supernumerary syllable ; yet it requires a nice 
 ear for the disposition of it (for it must not be uni- 
 versal); and, with this, may give at once an harmo- 
 nious tiow, a natural ease, an energy, tenderness, and 
 variety to the language. 
 
 A man of dry sound judgment attends to the truth 
 of the proposition ;....a man of ear and sensibility to 
 the music of the versification ;....a man of a well re- 
 gulated taste finds the former more deeply imprinted 
 on him, by the judicious management of the latter. 
 It seems to me, th^t what are called notes at. the 
 bottom of pages (as well as parenthesis in \yritmg) 
 might be generally avoided, without injuring the 
 thread of a discourse. It is true, it might require 
 some address to interweave them gracefully into the 
 text ; but how much more agreeable would be the 
 effect, than to interrupt the reader by such frequent 
 avocations ? How much more gracetul to play a tune 
 upon one set of keys, with varied stops, than to seek 
 the same variety by an awkward motion from one set 
 to another ? 
 
 It bears a little hard upon our candour, that " to 
 take to pieces" in our language signifies the same as 
 <* to expose ;" and " to expose" has a signification, 
 which good nature can as little allow, as can the laws 
 of etymology. 
 
 The ordinary letters from friend to friend seem ca- 
 pable of receiving a better turn, than mere compli- 
 ment, frivolous intelligence, or professions of friend- 
 ship continually repeated. The es.ablished maxim 
 lo correspond with ease, has almost excluded every 
 useful subject. But may not excess of negligence 
 
AND MANNERS. 173 
 
 discover affectation, as well as its opposite extreme ? 
 There are many degrees of intermediate solidity be- 
 tween a Westphalia ham and a whip syllabub. 
 
 I am astonished to remark the defect of ear, which 
 some tolerable harmonious poets discover in their 
 Alexandrines. It seems wonderful that an error so 
 obvious, and so very disgustful to a nice ear, should 
 occur so frequently as the following : 
 
 ** What seraph e'er could preach 
 So choice a lecture as his wond'rous virtue's lore?" 
 
 The pause being after the sixth syllable, it is plain 
 the whole emphasis of pronunciation is thrown upon 
 the particle as. It seems most amazing to me, that 
 this should be so common a blunder. 
 
 " Simplex munditiis" has been esteemed univer- 
 sally to be a phrase at once very expressive, and of 
 very difficult interpretation : at least, not very capa- 
 ble to be explained without circumlocution. What 
 objection can we make to that single word " elegant," 
 which excludes the glare and multiplicity of orna- 
 ments on one side, as much as it does dirt and rusti- 
 city on the other ? 
 
 The French use the word "naive" in such a sense 
 as to be explained by no English word ; unless we 
 will submit to restrain ourselves in the application of 
 the word " sentimental." It means the language of 
 passion or the heart, in opposition to the language of 
 reflection and the head. 
 
 The most frequent mistake that is made, seems to 
 be that of the means for the end : thus riches for hap- 
 piness, and thus learning for sense. The former of 
 these is hourly observable : and as to the latter, me- 
 thinks, this age affords frequent and surprising in- 
 stances. 
 
 It is with real concern, that I observe many per- 
 sons of true poetical genius endeavouring to quench 
 
 P 2 
 
V74 -ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 their native fire, that they may exhibit learning with- 
 out a single spark of it. Nor is it uncommon to see 
 an author translate a book, when with half the pains 
 he could write a better : but the translation favours 
 more of learning ; and gives room for notes which 
 exhibit more. 
 
 Learning, like money, may be of so base a coin, 
 as to be utterly void of use ; or, if sterling, may re- 
 quire good management, to make it serve the pur- 
 poses of sense or happiness. 
 
 When a nobleman has once conferred any great fa- 
 vour on his inferior, he ought thenceforth to consider, 
 that his requests, his advice, and even his intimations, 
 become commands : and to propose matters with the 
 utmost tenderness. The person whom he obliges has 
 otherwise lost his freedom : 
 
 *' Hac ego si compellar immagine, cuncta resigno : 
 Nee somnum plebis laudo satur altilium ; nee 
 Otia divitiis Arabum Uberrima muto." 
 
 The amiable and the severe, Mr. Burke's sublime 
 and beautiful, by different proportions, are mixed in 
 every character. Accordingly, as either is predomi- 
 nant, men imprint the passions of love or fear. The 
 best punch depends on a proper mixtureof sugar and 
 lemon. 
 
AND MANNERS. 175 
 
 ON MEN AND MANNERS, 
 
 THERE are many persons acquire to them- 
 selves a character of insincerity) from what is in 
 truth mere inconstancy. And there are persons of 
 warm, but changeable passions ; perhaps the sincer- 
 est of any in the very instant they make profession, 
 but the very least to be depended on through the short 
 duration of all extremes. It has often puzzled me, 
 on this account, to ascertain the character of Lady 
 Luxborough*; yet whatever were her principles, I 
 esteem Lord Bolingbroke's to have been the same. 
 She seemed in all respects the female Lord Boling- 
 broke. 
 
 The principal, if not the only, difference betwixt 
 honesty and honour, seems to lie in their different 
 motives : the object of the latter being reputation ; 
 and of the former, duty. 
 
 It is the greatest comfort to the poor, whose igno- 
 rance often inclines them to an ill-grounded envy, 
 that the rich must die as well as themselves. 
 
 The common people call wit, mirth, and fancy, fol- 
 ly ; fanciful and folliful, they use indiscriminately. 
 It seems to flow from hence, that they consider mo- 
 ney as of more importance, than the persons who 
 possess it ; and that no conduct is wise, beside what 
 has a tendency to enrich us. 
 
 One should not destroy an insect, one should not 
 quarrel with a dog, without a reason sufficient to 
 vindicate one through all the courts of morality. 
 
 The trouble occasioned by want of a servant, is so 
 much less than the plague of a bad one, as it is less 
 painful to clean a pair of shoes than undergo an ex- 
 cess of anger. 
 
 * Sister to Lord Bolingbroke : with her tic author had e»- 
 joyed a literary correspondence. 
 
176 KSSAVS ON MEN 
 
 The fund of sensible discourse is limited ; that of 
 jest and badinerie is infinite. In many companies, 
 then, where nothing is to be learned, it were, perhaps, 
 better to get upon the familiar footing : to give and 
 take in the way of raillery. 
 
 When a wife or mistress lives as in a jail, the per- 
 son that confines her lives the life of a jailor. 
 
 There seems some analogy betwixt a person's man- 
 ner in every action of his life. 
 
 Lady Luxborough's hand-writing was, at the same 
 time, delicate and masculine. Her features, her air, 
 her understanding, her motions, and her sentiments, 
 
 were the same. Mr. W , in the same respects, 
 
 delicate, but not masculine. Mr. G , rather 
 
 more delicate than masculine. Mr. J , rather 
 
 more masculine than delicate. And this, in regard 
 to the three last, extends to their drawing, versifica- 
 tion. Sec. Sec. Sec. 
 
 Riches deserve the attention of young persons rath- 
 er than old ones ; though the practice is otherwise. 
 To consume one's time and fortune at once, with- 
 out pleasure, recompence, or figure, is like pouring 
 forth one's spirits rather in phlebotomy than enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 Parents are generally partial to great vivacity in 
 their children, and are apt to be more or less fond of 
 them in proportion to it. Perhaps, there cannot be 
 a symptom less expressive of future judgment and 
 solidity. It seems thoroughly to preclude not only 
 depth of penetration, but also delicacy of sentiment. 
 Neither does it seem any way consistent with a sen- 
 sibility of pleasure, notwithstanding all external ap- 
 pearances. It is a mere greyhound puppy in a war- 
 ren, that runs at all truths, and at all sorts of plea- 
 sure ; but does not allow itself time to be success- 
 ful in securing any. It is a busy bee, whose whole 
 time passes away in mere flight from flower to flow- 
 
AND JIANXERS. UT 
 
 cr ; without resting upon any a sufficient time to 
 gather honey. 
 
 The queen of Sweden declared, " She did not love 
 men as men ; but merely because they were not wo- 
 men." What a spirited piece of satire I 
 
 In mixed conversation, or amongst persons of no 
 great knowledge, one indulges one's self in discourse 
 that is neither ingenious nor significant. Vapid fri- 
 volous chit chat serves to pass away time. But cork- 
 ed up again in retirement, we recover our wonted 
 strength, spirit, and flavour. 
 
 The making presents to a lady one addresses, is 
 like throwing armour into an enemy's camp, with a 
 resolution to recover it. 
 
 He that lies a-bed all a summer's morning, loses 
 
 the chief pleasure of the day : he that gives up his 
 
 i .■ ' ' --'1-1 •■— iinaero-oes a loss of the same 
 kmd. 
 
 Spleen is often little else than obstructed perspira- 
 tion. 
 
 The regard, men externally profess for their supe- 
 riors, is oftentimes rewarded.. ..in the manner it de- 
 serves. 
 
 Methinks, all men should meet with a respect due 
 to as high a character as they can act becomingly. 
 
 Shining characters are not always the m.cst agree- 
 able ones. The mild radiance of an emerald is by 
 no means less pleasing than the glare of a ruby. 
 
 Mankind suffers more by the conflict of contrary 
 passions, than that of passion and reason : yet, per- 
 haps, the truest way to quench one passion is to kin- 
 dle up another. 
 
 Prudent men should lock up their motives, giving 
 only their intimates a key. 
 
 The country esquire limits his an-ibition to a pre- 
 eminence in the knowledge of horses ; that is, of an 
 animal that may convey him with credit, ease, and 
 safety, the little journeys he has to go. The phiio- 
 
178 
 
 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 so^er directs his ambition to some well-grounded sci- 
 ence, which may with the same ease, credit, and 
 safety, transport him through every stage of being ; 
 so that he may not be overthrown by passion, nor 
 trailed insipidly along by apathy. 
 
 Tom Tweedle played a good fiddle ; but, nothing 
 satisfied with the inconsiderable appellation of a fid- 
 dler, dropped the practice, and is now no character. 
 
 The best time to frame an answer to the letters of 
 a friend, is the moment you receive them. Then 
 the warmth of friendship, and the intelligence re- 
 ceived, most forcibly co-operate. 
 
 The philosophers and ancient sages, who declaim- 
 ed against the vanity of all external advantages, seem 
 in an equal degree to have countenanced and authori- 
 zed the mental ones, or they wauld condemn their 
 
 own example. ., . ^ ., .. ~ r 
 
 superiority in wit is more frequently the cause of 
 
 vanity than superiority of judgment ; as the person 
 
 tiiat wears an ornamental sword, is ever more vain 
 
 than he that wears an useful one. 
 
 The person who has a superiority in wit is ena- 
 bled, by the means of it, to see his superiority : 
 hence a deference expected, and offence taken upl3n 
 the failure. Add to this that wit, considered as fan- 
 cy, renders all the passions more sensible ; the love 
 of fame more remarkably so ; and you have some 
 sort of reason for the revenge taken by wits upon 
 those who neglect them. 
 
 In the quarrels of our friends, it is incumbent on 
 us to take a,part....in the quarrels of mere acquaint- 
 ance, it is needless, and perhaps impertinent. 
 
 When I have purchased aught by way of mere 
 amusement, your reflexion upon the cost not only 
 intimates the bargain I have made to be a bad one, 
 but tends to make it so. 
 
 ' Had I the money those paintings cost,' says Tor- 
 por, ' methinks I would have discovered some bet- 
 
AND MANNERS. 179 
 
 ter method of disposing of it.' " And in what 
 would you have expended it ?" * I would buy some 
 fine horses.' " But you have already what answer 
 your purpose !" * Yes, but I have a peculiar fancy 
 for a fine horse.* " And have not I who bought 
 these pictures, the same argument on my side ?" 
 The truth is, he who extols his own amusements, 
 and condemns another person's, unless he does it as 
 they bear relation to virtue or vice, will at all times 
 find himself at a loss for an argument. 
 
 People of real genius have strong passions ; peo- 
 ple of strong passions have great partialities ; such 
 as Mr. Pope for Lord Bolingbroke, &c. Persons of 
 slow parts have languid passions, and persons of lan- 
 guid passions have little partiality. They neither 
 love, nor hate, nor look, nor move with the energy 
 of a man of sense. The faults of the former should 
 be balanced with their excellencies : and the blame- 
 lessness of the latter should be weighed with their 
 insignificancy. Happiness and virtue are, perhaps, 
 generally dispensed with more equality than we are 
 aware. 
 
 Extreme volatile and sprightly tempers seem in- 
 consistent with any great enjoyment. There is too 
 much time wasted in the mere transition from one 
 object to anotlier. No room for those deep impres- 
 sions, which are made alone by the duration of an 
 idea ; and are quite requisite to any strong sensation, 
 either of pleasure or of pain. The bee to collect ho- 
 ney, or the spider to gather poison, must abide some 
 time upon the weed or flower. They whose fluids 
 are mere sal volatile, seem rather cheerful than hap- 
 py men. The temper above described, is oftener 
 the lot of wits, than of persons of great abilities. 
 
 There are no persons more solicitious about the 
 preservation of rank, than those who have no rank 
 at all. Observe the humours of a country christen- 
 ing ; and you will find no court in Christendom so 
 ceremonious as the quality of Brentford. 
 
180 issAYS ON mp:n 
 
 Critics will sometimes prefer the faulty state of a 
 composition to the improved one, through mere per- 
 verseness : In like manner, some will extol a person's 
 past conduct, to depreciate his present. These are 
 some of the numerous shifts and machinations of 
 envy. 
 
 Trees afford us the advantage of shade in sum- 
 mer, as well as fuel in winter ; as the same virtue 
 allays the fervour of intemperate passion in our 
 youth, and serves to comfort and keep us warm" amid 
 the rigours of old age. 
 
 The term indecision, in a man's character, implies 
 an idea very nicely different from that of irresolu- 
 tion : yet it has a tendency to produce it ; and like 
 that, has often its original in excessive delicacy and 
 refinement. 
 
 Persons of proud yet abject spirits will despise you 
 for those distresses, for which the generous mind 
 will pity, and endeavour to befriend you ; a hint, to 
 whom only you should disclose, and from whom you 
 should conceal them. Yet, perhaps, in general, it 
 may be prudent to conceal them from persons of an 
 opposite party. 
 
 The sacrificing of our anger to our interest is of- 
 ten-times no more, than the exchange of a painful 
 passion for a pleasurable. 
 
 There are not live in five hundred that pity, but, 
 at the same time, also despise; a reason that you 
 should be cautious to whom and where you complain. 
 The farthest a prudent man should proceed in gen- 
 eral, is to laugh at some of his own foibles : when 
 this may be a means of removing envy from the more 
 important parts of his character. 
 
 ElTeminancy of appearance, and an excessive at- 
 tention to the minute parts of dress, is, I believe, 
 properly, in the general run, esteemed a symptom 
 of irresolution. But, yet, instances are seen to abound 
 in the French nation to the contrary. And in our 
 
AND MANNERS. Igl 
 
 own, that of Lord Mark Kerr was an instance equal 
 to a thousand. A snuff-box hinge, rendered invisi- 
 ble, was an object on which his happiness appeared 
 to turn ; which, however, might be clouded b}^ a 
 speck of dirt, or v/ounded by a hole in the heel of 
 his stocking-. Yet this man's intrepidity was shewn 
 beyond all contradiction. What shall we say then 
 of Mr. Gray, of manners very delicate, yet possess- 
 ed of a poetical, vein fraught with the noblest and 
 sublimest images, and of a mind remarkably well 
 stored with the more masculine parts of learning ?.... 
 Here, perhaps, we must remain in suspense. ...For 
 though taste does not imply manners, so neither docs 
 it preclude them : or what hinders, that a man should 
 feel that same delicacy in regard to real honour, 
 which he does in regard to dress ? 
 
 If beneficence be not in a person's will, what im- 
 ports it to mankind ; that it is ever so much in his 
 power? And yet we see how much niore regard is 
 generally paid to a worthless man of fortune, than to 
 the most benevolent beggar that ever uttered an in- 
 effectual blessing. It is all agreeable to Mr. Burke's 
 thesis, that the formidable idea of power affects more 
 deeply than the most beautiful image we can con- 
 ceive of moral virtue. 
 
 A person that is not merely stupid, is naturally un- 
 der the influence of the acute passions, or the slow.... 
 The principle of revenge is meant for the security of 
 the individual ; and supposing a person has not cour- 
 age to put it immediately into practice, he commonly 
 strives to make himself remarkable for the persever- 
 ance of his resentment. Both these have the same 
 motive to impress a dread upon our enemies of inju- 
 ring us for the future : and though the world be more 
 inclined to favour the rash than the phlegmetic ene- 
 my, it is hard to say which of the two has given rise 
 to more dismal consequences. ...The reason of this 
 partiality may be deduced from the same original, us 
 
 Q 
 
182 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 the preference that is given to down-rig^ht impudence 
 before hypocrisy. To be cheated into an ill-placed 
 esteem, or to be underminded by concealed maligni- 
 ty, discovers a contempt for our understanding, and 
 lessens the idea we entertain of it ourselves. They 
 hurt our pride more than open violence, or undisguis- 
 ed impudence. 
 
 King James the First, willing to involve the regal 
 power in mystery, that, like natural objects, it miight 
 appear greater through the fog, declared it presump- 
 tion for a subject to say, " what a king nught do in 
 the fullness of his power. "....This was absurd ; but 
 it seems presumption in a man of the world, to say 
 what means a man of genius may think instrumental 
 to his happiness. W used to say, it was pre- 
 sumption for him to make conjectures on the occa- 
 sion. A person of refinement seems to have his 
 pleasures distinct from the comm.on run of m.en : 
 what the world calls important, is to him M^holly fri- 
 volous ; and what the world esteems frivolous, seems 
 essential to his tranquillity. 
 
 The apparatus of a funeral among the middle rank 
 of people, and sometimes among the great, has one 
 effect that is not frivolous. It in some measure dis- 
 sipates and draws ott" the attention from the main 
 object of concern. Weaker minds find a sort of re- 
 lief in being compelled to give directions about the 
 manner of interment : and the great solemnity of the 
 hearse, plumes, and escutcheons, though they add 
 to the force of terror, diminish that of simple grief. 
 
 There are some people whom you cannot regard 
 though they seem desirous to ot)lige you ; nay, even 
 though they do you actual services. This is the case 
 wherever their sentiments are too widely different 
 from your own. Thus a person truly avaricious can 
 never make himself truly agreeable to one enamour- 
 ed with the arts and sciences. A person of exqui- 
 site sensibility and tenderness can never be truly 
 
AND MANNERS. ioo 
 
 pleased with another of no feelings ; who can see 
 the most intimate of his friends or kindred expire 
 without any greater pain than if he beheld a pitcher 
 broken. These, properly speaking, can be said to 
 feel nothing but the point of a sword ; and one could 
 more easily pardon them, if this apathy were the ef- 
 fect of philosophy, and not want of thought. But 
 what I would inculcate is, .'ith tempers thus dif- 
 ferent one should never attempt any close connexion : 
 
 " Lupiset agnis quanta soriito obtigit, 
 " Tecum mihi discordia est." 
 
 Yet it may be a point of prudence to shew them ci- 
 vility, and allow a toleration to their various propen- 
 sities. To converse much ^vith them would not on- 
 ly be painful, but tend to injure your own disposition : 
 and to aim at obtaining their applause, would only 
 make your character inconsistent. 
 
 There are some people who find a gloomy kind of 
 pleasure in glouting, which could hardly be encreas- 
 ed by the satisfaction of having their wishes granted. 
 This is, seemingly, a bad character, and yet often 
 connected with a sense of honour, of conscious 
 merit, with warm gratitude, great sincerity, and 
 many other valuable qualities. 
 
 There is a degree of understanding in women, 
 with which one not only ought to be contented, but 
 absolutely pleased... .One would not, in them, require 
 the unfathomable abyss. 
 
 The worst consequence of gratifying our passions, 
 in regard to objects of an indilierent nature, is, that 
 it causes them to proceed with greater violence to- 
 wards other and other objects ; and so ad infinitum. 
 I wish, for my pocket, an elegant etui ; and gold to 
 remove the pain of wishing, and partake the plea- 
 sure of enjoyment. I would part with the purchase ' 
 money, for which I have less regard ; but the grati- 
 
184 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 fication of this wish would generate fifty others, that 
 would be ruinous. See Epictetus ; who, therefore, 
 advises to resist the first. 
 
 Virtue and agreeahleness are, I fear, too often se- 
 parated ; that is, externals effect and captivate the 
 fancy, where internal worth is wanting, to engage 
 and atlacli one's reason. ...A most perplexing circum- 
 stance ; and no where. more remarkable, tlian when 
 we see a wise man totally enslaved by the beauty of 
 '-A person he despises. 
 
 I know not whether encreasing years do not cause 
 one to esteem fewer people, and to bear \vith more. 
 
 Quere, whether friendship for the sex doJ not tend 
 to lessen the sensual appetite ; and vice versa. 
 
 I think, I never knew an instance of great quick- 
 ness of parts being joined with great solidity. The 
 most rapid rivers are seldom or never deep. 
 
 To be at once a rake, and to glory in the charac- 
 ter, discovers at the same time a bad disposition and 
 a bad taste. 
 
 There are persons who slide insensibly into a habit 
 of contradiction. Their first endeavour, upon hear- 
 ing aught asserted, is to discover wherein it may be 
 plausibly disputed. This, they imagine, gives an air 
 of great p^«gacily ; and if they can mingle a jest with 
 contradiction, think they display great superiority. 
 One should be cautious against the advances of this 
 kind of propensity, which loses us friends in a mat- 
 ter generally of no consequence. 
 
 The solicitude of peers to preserve, or to exalt, 
 their rank, is esteemed no other than a manly and 
 becoming ambition. The care of commoners, on the 
 same subject, is deemed either vanity, formality, or 
 pride. 
 
 An income for life only seems the best calculated 
 for the circumstances and situation of mortal man ; 
 the farther property in an estate encreases the diffi- 
 culty of disengaging our ^ffectio^is fvpm this wyrld, 
 
AND MANNERS. 185 
 
 •and of thinking in a manner we ought to think of a 
 system from which we must be entirely separated: 
 
 «* I trust that sinking fund, my life." Pope, 
 
 Surprize quickens enjoyment, and expectation ba- 
 nishes surprize ; this is the simple reason, why few 
 pleasures, that have engrossed our attention previ- 
 ously, ever answer our ideas of them. Add to this, 
 that imagination is a great magnifier, and causes the 
 hopes we conceive to grow too large for their object.... 
 Thus expectation does not only destroy the advan- 
 tage of surprize, and so flattens pleasure ; but makes 
 up hope for an imaginary addition, which gives the 
 pain of disappointment. 
 
 ON RELIGION, 
 
 PERHAPS, we should not pray to God " to 
 keep us stedfast in any faith ;" but conditionally, that 
 it be a right one. 
 
 When a tree is falling, I have seen the labourers, 
 by a trivial jerk with a rope, throw it upon the spot 
 where they would wish it should lie. Divines, un- 
 derstanding this text too literally, pretend, by a lit- 
 tle interposition in the article of death, to regulate a 
 person's everlasting happiness. I fancy, the allu- 
 sion will hardly countenance their presumption. 
 
 When misfortunes happen to such as dissent from 
 us in matters of religion, we call them judgments : 
 when to those of our own sect, we call them trials : 
 when to persons neither way distinguished, we are 
 content to impute them to the settled course of 
 things. 
 
 Q2 
 
186 ESS Airs ON MEir 
 
 In regard to church-music, if a man cannot be 
 said to be merry or good-humoured when he is tick- 
 led till he laughs, why should he be esteemed devout 
 or pious when he is tweedled into zeal by the drone 
 pipe of an organ ?....In answer to this it may be said, 
 that if such an elevation of the spirits be not meritori- 
 ous, be not devotion, yet it is attended with good conse- 
 quences ; as it leaves a good impression upon the 
 mind, favourable to virtue and a religious life. 
 
 The rich man, adjoining to his country-seat, erects 
 a chapel, as he pretends, to God Almighty, but in 
 truth to his ov\ n vain-glory ; furnishes it with luxuri- 
 ous conveniences, for prayers that will be never said. 
 The poor man kneels by his bedside, and goes to 
 heaven before him. 
 
 I should think, a clergyman might distinguish him- 
 self by composing a set of sermons upon the ordina- 
 ry virtues extolled in classic writers, introducing the 
 ornamental flourishes of Horace, Juveuiil, &.c. 
 
 1. Against family pride, might be taken from Ju- 
 venal's " Stemmata quid faciunt," Horace's " Non 
 quia Mxcenas," and Marius's speech in Sallust. The 
 text *' Is not this Joseph the carpenter's son ?" 
 
 2. A sermon upon the advantages of competency, 
 contentment, and rural life, might be abundantly em- 
 bellished from the classics, and would be both grate- 
 ful and serviceable to the common people : as the 
 chief pa«sion from which they suffer is envy, 1 be- 
 lieve, misplaced. 
 
 3. Another might be calculated for each season of 
 the year; illustrating the wisdom, the power, and 
 the benevolence of Providence.. ..How idle to forego 
 such fair and peaceable subjects, for the sake of wi- 
 dening the breach betwixt grace and works, predes- 
 tination and election ; solving the revelations ; or as- 
 certaining the precise nature of Urim and Thura- 
 
AND MANNERS, IST 
 
 It is a common argument amongst divines, in the 
 behalf of a religious life, that a contrary behaviour 
 has such consequences when we come to die. It is 
 indeed true, but seems an argument of a subordi- 
 nate kind : the article of death is more frequently of 
 short duration. Is it not a stronger persuasive, that 
 virtue makes us happy daily, and removes the fear of 
 death from our lives antecedently, than that it smooths 
 the pillow of a death-bed ? 
 
 It is a question whether the remaining supersti- 
 tions among the vulgar of the English nation ought 
 wholly to be removed : the notion of a ghost's ap- 
 pearance for the discovery of murder, or any flagrant 
 act of injustice ; " that what is got over the devil's 
 back will be spent under his belly;" " that cards are 
 the devil's books," &:c. 
 
 If there be numbers of people that murder and 
 devour their species ; that have contradictory notions 
 of beauty ; that have deemed it meritorious to offer 
 up human sacrifices ; to leave their parents in deserts 
 of wild beasts ; to expose their offspring as soon as 
 born, See. See. there should seem to be no universal 
 moral sense ; and of consequence, none. 
 
 It is not now, " We have seen his star in the east," 
 but " We have seen the star on his breast, and are 
 come to worship him." 
 
 It is said, I believe justly enough, that crimes ap- 
 pear less heinous to a person that is about committing 
 them, than to his conscience afterwards. Is then 
 the crime to be imputed to him in the degree he fore- 
 saw it, or in that he reflects upon it ? perhaps the 
 one and the other may incline towards an extreme. 
 
 The word " Religio" amongst the Romans, and 
 the word " Church" among the Christians, seem to 
 have more interpretations than almost any other. 
 " Malus procidit, ea religione moti."....Livy, p. 1 150, 
 vol. II. Here religion seems to mean prodigy.... 
 ** Si quis tale sacrum solenne duceret, ne se sine re-» 
 
188 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ligione et piaculo id omittere posse." Livy, 1157. 
 Here it seemingly means impiety; '< Piaculum" be- 
 ing- such an offence as required expiatory sacrifices, 
 
 " Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum.'" 
 
 Here it means superstition, as it does often in Lu- 
 cretius. 
 
 The pope's wanton excommunications ; his capri- 
 cious pardon of sins ; his enormous indulgences, and 
 other particulars of like nature, shew that whatever 
 religions may practice cruelty, it is peculiarly the 
 church that makes a jest of God Almighty. 
 
 The word Church has these different senses : 
 
 1. A set of people ordained to assist at divine ser- 
 vice. 
 
 2. The members of a certain religious profession, 
 including clergy and laity. 
 
 3. A large piece of building, dedicated to the ser- 
 vice of God, and furnished with proper conveniences 
 for those who meet to worship him. 
 
 4. A body of people, who too frequently harass 
 and infect the laity according to law, and who con- 
 ceal their real names under that of a spiritual court. 
 
 How ready have all nations been, after having al- 
 lowed a proper portion of laud and praise to their own 
 abilities., to attribute their success in war to the pe- 
 culiar favour of a just Providence 1 Perhaps, this 
 construciion, as it is often applied, argues more of pre- 
 sumption than gratitude. In the first place, such is 
 the partiality of the human heart, that, perhaps two 
 hostile nations may aUke rely upon the justice of their 
 cause ; and which of the two has the better claim to 
 it, none but Providence can itself discover. In the 
 next, it should be observed, that success by no means 
 demonstrates justice. Again, we must not wholly 
 forget to consider, that success may be no more than 
 a means of destruction. And lastly, supposing sue- 
 
AND MANNERS* 189 
 
 pess to be reaUy and absolutely good, do we find that 
 individuals are always favoured with it in proportion 
 to their desert ; and if not individuals, why must we 
 then suppose it to be the uniform recompenceof so- 
 ciety : 
 
 It is often given as a reason why it is incumbent 
 on God Almighty's justice, to punish or reward soci- 
 eties in this world, because, hereafter, they cannot 
 be punished or rewarded, on account of their desola- 
 tion. It is, indeed, true that liuman vengeance must 
 act frequently in the gross ; and whenever a govern- 
 Kient declares war against a foreign society, or finds 
 it needful to chastise any part of its own, must of ne- 
 cessity involve some innocent individuals, with the 
 guilty. But it does not appear so evident, that an 
 omniscient and omnipotent Being, who knows the se- 
 crets of all hearts, and is able to make a distinction 
 in his punishments, will judge his unhappy creatures 
 by these indiscriminate and imperfect laws. 
 
 Societies then are to be considered as the casual 
 or arbitrary assortments of human institution. To 
 suppose that God Almighty will, by means of punish- 
 ments, often called judgments, destroy them promis- 
 cuously, is to suppose that he will regulate his gov- 
 ernment according to the cabals of human wisdom. 
 I mean to be understood here, with regard to what 
 are called judgments, or, in other words, prjcterna- 
 tural interpositions of Providence. In a natural way 
 the constitution of the universe requires, that the good 
 must often suffer with the bad part of society. But 
 in regard to judgments upon whole bodies (which 
 we have days appointed to deprecate) let us intro- 
 duce a case, which may serve to illustrate the impro- 
 bability. 
 
 Societies, I suppose then, are not divine, but human 
 bundles. 
 
 Imagine a man to mix a large quantity of sand and 
 gunpowder j then parcel out the composition into ^if- 
 
190 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 ferent heaps, and apply fire to them separately. The 
 fire, it is very obvious, would take no notice of the 
 bundles ; would by no means consume, here and 
 there, a bundle in the gross, but would afiect that part 
 of every portion that was combustible. 
 
 It may speciously enough be said, what greater in- 
 justice is it to punish a society promiscuously, than 
 to involve an innocent son in the punishment due to 
 a sinful father ? to this I answer, the natural system 
 (which ye need not doubt, upon the whole, is right) 
 occasions both the good and bad to suffer many times 
 indiscriminately. But they go much farther.. ..They 
 say God, as it were, interferes, in opposition to the 
 settled course of things, to punish and include socie- 
 ties in one promiscuous vengeance. Were he to in- 
 flict extraordinary punishments distinct from those 
 which sin entails upon us, he surely would not reg- 
 ulate them by mere human assortments, but would 
 make the juster distinction of good and evil individ- 
 uals. 
 
 Neither do I see why it is so necessary, that soci- 
 eties, either here or hereafter, should be punished as 
 societies. " The soul that sinneth, it shall die." 
 
 How happy may a lord bishop render a peasant at 
 the hour of death, by bestowing on him his blessing, 
 and giving him assurance of salvation ? It is the 
 same with regard to religious opinions in general. 
 They may be confirmed and established to their 
 hearts content, because they assent implicitly to the 
 opinions of men who, they think, should know. A 
 person of distinguished parts and learning has no 
 such advantages ; friendless, wavering, solitary, and 
 through his very situation, incapable of much assis- 
 tance: if the rustic's tenor of behaviour approach 
 nearer to the brutes, he also appears to approach 
 neidrer to their happiness. 
 
AND MANNERS. 191 
 
 You pray for happiness... .consider the situation or 
 disposition of your mind at the time, and you will 
 find it naturally tends to produce it. 
 
 In travelling, one contrives to allow day-light for 
 the worse part of the roi?d. But in life, how hard 
 is it, that every unhappiness seems united towards 
 the close of our journey I pain, fatigue, and want of 
 ispirits ; when spirits are more immediately necessa- 
 ry to our support ! of which nothing can supply the 
 place beside religion and philosophy ! But then the 
 foundation must be laid in meditation and enquiry i 
 at an unmolested season when our faculties are strong 
 and vigorous ; or the tempest will most probably 
 throw down the superstructure. 
 
 How is a mean said to be guilty of incredulity ? 
 Are there not sizes of understandings adapted to the 
 different sorts, and as it were sizes of narrations ? 
 
 Conscience is adscititious; I mean, influenced by 
 conviction, which may be well or ill grounded ; 
 therefore no certain test of truth : but at most times 
 a very faithful and a very prudent admonitor. 
 
 The attraction of bodies and social affection of 
 minds seem in many respects analagous. 
 
 Attractions of either kind are less perspicuous, 
 and less perceptible, through a variety of counter 
 attractions that diminish their effect. Were two 
 persons to meet in Ispahan, though quite strangers 
 to each other here, would they not go near to feel a 
 kind of friendship, on the single score of their being 
 Englishmen ? would they not pass a cheerful evening 
 together over rice and sherbett ?....In like manner, 
 suppose two or three contemporaries only to meet on 
 the surface of the globe, amid myriads of persons 
 of all other ages whatsoever, would they not discover 
 a mutual tenderness, even though they had been ene- 
 mies when living. What then remains, but that we 
 revive the memory of such relations now, in order 
 to quicken our benevolence ? that we are all country- 
 
192 ESSAYS ON MEK 
 
 men, is a consideration that is more commonly in- 
 culcated, and limits our benevolence to a smaller 
 number also. That we are contemporaries, and per- 
 sons whom future history shall unite, who, great part 
 of us, however imperceptibly, receive and confer re- 
 ciprocal benefits ; this, with ev'jry other circumstance 
 that tends to heighten our philanthropy, should be 
 brought to mind as much as possible, during our 
 abode upon earth. Hereafter it may be just and re- 
 quisite to comprehend all ages of mankind. 
 
 The best notion we can conceive of God, may be, 
 that he is to the creation what the soul is to the body: 
 
 ....'« Deus est quodcunque vidcs, ubicunque moveris." 
 
 What is man, while we reflect upon a Deity, whose 
 very words are works ; and all whose works are won- 
 ders 1 
 
 Prayer is not used to inform, for God is omniscient ; 
 not to move compassion, for God is without passion ; 
 not to shew our gratitude, for God knows our hearts. 
 ....May not a man, that has true notions, be a pious 
 man though he be silent ? 
 
 To honour God, is to conceive right notions of 
 him, says some aLcient that I have forgot. 
 
 I know not how Mr. Pope's assertion is consistent 
 with the scheme of a particular Providence : 
 
 " The Almighty cause 
 
 Acts not by partial, but by general laws." 
 
 What one imderstands by a general Providence, is 
 that attention of the Almighty to the v/orks of his 
 creation, by which they pursue their original course, 
 without deviating into such eccentric notions as 
 must immediately tend to the destruction of it. 
 Thus a philosopher is enabled to foretel eclipses with 
 precision; and a stone thrown upward drops uniform- 
 ly to the ground. Thus an injury wakes resentment; 
 
AND MANNERS. 193 
 
 and good oflice endears to us our benefactor. And 
 it seems no unworthy idea of Omnipotence, perhaps, 
 to suppose he at first constituted a system, that stood 
 in no need either of his counteracting or suspending 
 the first laws of motion. 
 
 But, after all, the mind remains ; and we can shew 
 it to be either impossible, or improbable, that God 
 directs the will? Now whether the di.vine Being oc- 
 casions a ruin to fall miraculously, or in direct oppo- 
 sition to the ordinary laws of nature, upon the head 
 of Chartres....or whether he inclines Chartres to go 
 near a wall whose centre of gravity is unsupported, 
 makes no material difference. 
 
 ON fjsrE, 
 
 I BELIEVE that, generally speaking, persons 
 eminent in one branch of taste, have the principles 
 of the rest ; and to try this, I have often solicited a 
 stranger to hum a tune, and have seldom failed of 
 success. This, however, does not extend to talents 
 beyond the sphere of taste ; and Handel was evident- 
 ly wrong, when he fancied himself born to command 
 a troop of horse. 
 
 Mankind, in general, may be divided into persons 
 of understanding and persons of genius ; each of 
 which all admit of many subordinate degrees. By 
 persons of understanding, I mean persons of sound 
 judgment ; formed for mathematical deductions and 
 clear argumentation. By persons of genius, I would 
 characterize those in whom true and genuine fancy 
 predominates j and this whether assisted or not by 
 cultivation. 
 
 I have thought that genius and judgment may, in 
 some respects, be represented by a liquid and a solid. 
 R 
 
194 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 The former is, generally speaking, remarkable for 
 its sensibility, but then loses its impression soon : the 
 latter is less susceptible of impression but retains it 
 longer. 
 
 Dividing the world into an hundred parts, I am 
 apt to believe the calculation might be thus adjusted : 
 
 Pedants 15 
 
 Persons of common sense 40 
 
 Wirs 15 
 
 Fools 15 
 
 Persons of a wild uncultivated taste 10 
 
 Persons of original taste, improved by art . . 5 
 
 There is hardly any thing so uncommom, as a 
 true native taste improved by education. 
 
 The object of taste is corporeal beauty ; for though 
 there is manifestly a to sj^sttov ; a " pulchrum," an 
 " honestum," and " decorum," in moral actions ; 
 and although a man of taste that is not virtuous com- 
 mits a greater violence upon his sentiments than any 
 other person ; yet, in the ordinary course of speak- 
 ing, a person is not termed a man of taste, merely 
 because he is a man of virtue. 
 
 All beauty may be divided into absolute and rela- 
 tive, and what is compounded of both. 
 
 It is not uncommon to hear a modern Quixote in- 
 sist upon the superiority of his idol or Dulcinea ; and, 
 not content to pay his own tribute of adoration, de- 
 mand that of others in favor of her accomplishments. 
 Those of grave and sober sense cannot avoid won- 
 dering at a diiVerence of opinions, which are in truth 
 supported by no criterion. 
 
 J*: very one, therefore, ought to fix some measure 
 ot' beauty, before he grows eloquent upon the sub- 
 jects 
 
 Every thing seems to derive its pretentions to 
 beauty, oil account of its colour, smoothness, vari- 
 ety, uniformity^ partial resemblance to something 
 
AND MANNERS. 195 
 
 else, proportion, or suitableness to the end proposed, 
 some connexion of ideas, or a mixture of all these. 
 
 As to the beauty of colours, their present eflect 
 seems in proportion to their impulse ; and scarlet, 
 were it not for habit, would affect an Indian before 
 all other colours. 
 
 Resemblances wrought by art ; pictures, bustos, 
 statues, please. 
 
 Columns, proportioned to their incumbent weight; 
 but herein we suppose homogeneous materials : it 
 is otherwise, in case we know that a column is made 
 of iron. 
 
 Habit, herein, seems to have an influence to which 
 •we can affix no bounds. Suppose the generality of 
 mankind formed with a mouth from ear to ear, and 
 that it were requisite in point of respiration, would 
 not the present make of mouths have subjected a 
 man to the name of Bocha Chica? 
 
 It is probable^ that a clown would require more 
 colours i 1 his Chloe's face, than a courtier. 
 
 We may see daily the strange effects of habit, in 
 respect of fashion. To vvhat colours, or proportions, 
 does it not reconcile us ! 
 
 . Conceit is false taste j and very widely different 
 from no taste at all. 
 
 Beauty of person should, perhaps, be estimated 
 according to the proportion it bears to such a make 
 and features as are most likely to produce the love 
 of the opposite sex. The look of dignity, the look 
 of wisdom, the look of delicacy and refinement, seem 
 in some measure foreign. Perhaps, the appearance 
 of sensibility may be one ingredient ; and tJmt of 
 health, another. At least, a cadaverous countenance 
 ii the most disgusting in the world. 
 
 1 know not, if one reason of the different opinions 
 concerning beauty be not owing to self-love. Peo- 
 ple are apt to form some criterion, from their own 
 persons, or possessions. A tall person approves the 
 
196 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 look of a folio or octavo : a square thick-set man is 
 more delighted with a quarto. This instance, at 
 least, may serve to explain what I intend. 
 
 I believe, it sometimes happens that a person mar 
 have what the artists call an ear and an eye, without 
 taste : for instance, a man may sometimes have a 
 quickness in distinguishing the similitude or difFer- 
 ence of lines and sounds, without any skill to give 
 the proper preference betv^'ixt the combinations of 
 them. 
 
 Taste produces different effects upon different 
 complexions. It consists, as I have often observed, 
 in the appetite and the discernment ; then most pro- 
 perly so called, when they are united in equal pro- 
 portions. 
 
 Where the discernment is predominant, a person 
 is pleased with fewer objects, and requires perfection 
 in what he sees. Vv'here the appetite prevails, he is 
 so much attached to beauty, that he feels a gratifica- 
 tion in every degree in which it is manifested. I 
 frankly own myself to be of this latter class : I love 
 painting and statuary so well, as, to be not undelight- 
 ed with moderate performances. 
 
 The reason people vary in their opinions of a por- 
 trait, I mean with regard to the resemblance it bears 
 to the original, seems no other than that they lay 
 stress on different features in the original ; and this 
 different stress is owing to different complexions of 
 mind. 
 
 People of little or no taste commend a person for 
 its corpulency. I cannot see, why an excrescence 
 of belly, cheek, or chin, should be deemed more 
 beautiful than a wen on any other part of the body. 
 Through a connexion of ideas, it may form the 
 beauty of a pig or an ox. 
 
 There seems a pretty exact analogy between the 
 objects and the senses. Some tunes, some tastes, 
 some visible objects, please at first, ai^d that only i 
 
AND MANNERS. 197 
 
 Others only by degrees, and then long. ...(Raspberry- 
 jelly.. ..Green-tea. ...Alley-Croaker.. ..Air in Ariadne 
 ....a Baron's Robe. ...and a Bishop's Lawn.) Per- 
 haps, some of these instances may be ill enough 
 chosen ; but the thing is true. 
 
 Tunes, with words, please me the m.ore in pro- 
 portion as they approach nearer to the natural accent 
 of the words to which they are assigned. Scotch 
 tunes often end high : their language does the same. 
 
 To how very great a degree the appearance of 
 health alone is beauty, I am not able to determine. 
 I presume the most regular and well-proportioned 
 form of limbs and features is at the same time the 
 most healthful one : the fittest to perform the func- 
 .tions and operations of the body. If so, a perfectly 
 healthful form is a perfectly beautiful form... .Health 
 is beauty, and the most perfect health is the tiiost 
 perfect beauty. To have recourse to experience : 
 the most sickly and cadaverous countenance is the 
 least provocative to love ; or rather the most incon- 
 sistent with it. A florid look, to appear beautiful, 
 must be the bloom of health, and not the glow of a 
 fever. 
 
 An obvious connexion may be traced betwixt mo- 
 ral and physical beauty ; the love of symmetry and 
 the love of virtue ; an elegant taste and perfect ho- 
 nesty. We may, we must, rise from the love of na- 
 tural to that of moral beauty : such is the conclusion 
 of Plato, and of my Lord Shaftesbury. 
 
 Wherever there is a v»ant of tase, we generally 
 observe a love of money, and cunning : and when- 
 ever taste prevails, a want of prudence, and an utter 
 disregard to money. 
 
 Taste (or a just relish of beauty) seems to dis- 
 tinguish us from the brute creation, as much as in- 
 tellect, or reason. We do not find -that brutes have 
 any sensation of this sort. A bull is goaded by the 
 love of sex in general, without the least appearajBce 
 R 2 
 
198 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 of any distinction in favour of the more beautiful irt- 
 dividual. Accordingly men devoid of taste are in a 
 great measure indifferent as to make, complexion, 
 feature ; and find a difference of sex sufficient to ex- 
 cite their passion in all its fervor. It is not thus 
 v/here there is a taste for beauty, either accurate or 
 erroneous. The person of a good taste requires real 
 beauty in the object of his passion ; and the person 
 of bad taste requires something which he substitutes 
 in the place of beauty. 
 
 Persons of taste, it has been asserted, are also the 
 best qualified to distinguish, and the most prone to 
 admire, moral virtue : nor does it invalidate this max- 
 im, that their practice does not correspond. The 
 |3ower of acting virtuously depends in a great mea- 
 sure upon withstanding a present, and perhaps sen- 
 sual, gratification, for the sake of a more distant and 
 intellectual satisfaction. Now, as persons of fine 
 taste are men of the strongest sensual appetites, it 
 happens that in balancing present and future, they 
 are apt enough to allow an unreasonable advantage 
 to the former. On the other hand, a more phlegma- 
 tic character may, with no greater self-denial, allow 
 the future fairer play. But let us vrave the merely 
 sensual indulgences ; and let us consider the mi 
 taste in regard to points of meum and tuum. ; in re- 
 gard to the virtues of forgiveness; in regard to cha- 
 rity, compassion, munificence, and magnanimity ; 
 and we cannot fail to vote his taste the glorious tri- 
 umph which it deserves. 
 
 There is a kind of counter-taste, founded on sur- 
 prize and curiosity, which maintains a sort of rival- 
 ship with the true ; and may be expressed by the 
 name Concetto. Such is the fondness of some per- 
 sons for a knife-haft made from the royal oak, or a 
 tobacco stopper from a mulberry-tree of Shakspeare's 
 own planting. It gratifies an empty curiosity. Suck 
 is the casual resemblance of Apollo and the nine 
 
AND MANNERS. 199 
 
 muses in a piece of agate ; a dog expressed in fea- 
 thers, or a woodcock in mohair. They serve to give 
 surprize. But a just fancy will no more esteem a 
 picture because it proves to be produced by shells, 
 than a writer would prefer a pen because a person 
 made it with his toes. In all such cases, difficulty 
 should not be allowed to give a casting weight ; nor 
 a needle be considered as a painter's instrument, 
 when he is so ranch better furnished with a pencil*. 
 
 Perhaps no print, or even painting, is capable of 
 producing a figure answerable to the idea which poe- 
 try or history has given of great men : a Cicero, for 
 instance, a Homer, a Cato, or an Alexander. The 
 same, perhaps, is true of the grandeur of some an- 
 cient buildings.... And the reason is, that the effects 
 of a pencil are distinct and limited, whereas the de- 
 scriptions of the pen leave the imagination room to 
 expatiate ; and Burke has made it extremely obvi- 
 ous, that indistinctness of outline is one source of 
 the sublime. 
 
 What an absurdity is it, in framing even prints, to 
 suffer a margin of white paper to appear beyond the 
 ground ; destroying half the relievo the lights are in- 
 tended to produce 1 Frames ought to contrast with 
 paintings ; or to appear as distinct as possible : for 
 which reason, frames of wood inlaid, or otherwise 
 varigated with colours, are less suitable than gilt ones, 
 which, exhibiting an appearance of metal, afford the 
 V»est contrast with colour. 
 
 The peculiar expression in'some portraits is owing 
 to the greater or less manifestation of the soul in some 
 of the features. 
 
 * Cornelius Ketel, born at Gonda in 1548 ; landed in Eng- 
 land 1573 ; settled at Amsterdam 1581 ; took it into his head to 
 groiv famous by painting with his fingers instead of pencils.... 
 The whim took.. ..His success increased.. ..His fingers appearing 
 
 too easy tools, he then undertoolc to paint with his feet See 
 
 H. Walpole's Book of Painters. 
 
200 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 There is, perhaps, a sublime, and a beautiful, in 
 the very make of a face, exclusive of any particular 
 expression of the soul ; or, at least, not expressive 
 of any other than a tame dispassionate one. We see 
 often what the world calls regular features, and a 
 good complexion, almost totally unani mated by any 
 discovery of the temper or understanding. When- 
 ever the regularity of feature, beauty or complex- 
 ion, the strong expression of sagacity and generosi- 
 ty, concur in one face, the features are irresistible. 
 
 But even here it is to be observed, that a sort of 
 sympathy has a prodigious bias.... Thus a pensive 
 beauty, with regular features and complexion, will 
 have the preference with a spectator of the pensive 
 cast : and so of the rest. 
 
 The soul appears to me to discover herself most 
 in the mouth and eyes ; with this difference, that the 
 mouth seems the more expressive of the temper and 
 the eye of the understanding. 
 
 Is a portrait, supposing it as like as can be to the 
 person for whom it is drawn, a more or less beauti- 
 ful object than the original face? I should think, a 
 perfect face must be much more pleasing than any 
 representation of it ; and a set of ugly features much 
 more ugly than the most exact resemblance that can 
 be drawn of them. Painting cao do much by means 
 of shades ; but not equal the force of real relievo : 
 on v»?hich account, it may be the advantage of bad 
 features to have their effect diminished ; but surely, 
 never can be the interest of good ones. 
 
 Softness of manner seems to be in painting, what 
 smoothness of syllables is in language, affecting the 
 sense of sight or hearing, previous to any correspon- 
 dent passion. 
 
 The " theory of agreeable sensations" founds them 
 upon the greatest activity or exercise an object occa- 
 sions to the senses, without proceeding to fatigue. 
 Violent contrasts are upon the footing of roughness 
 
AKD MANNERS. 201 
 
 or inequality.... Harmony or similitude, on the other 
 hand, are somewhat congenial to snioothness. In 
 other words, these two recommend themselves ; the 
 one to our love of action, the other to cur love of 
 rest. A medium, therefore, may be rhost agreeable 
 to the generality. 
 
 An harmony in colours seems as requisite, as a 
 variety of lines seems necessary to the pleasure 
 we expect from outward forms. The lines, indeed, 
 should be well varied ; but yet the opposite sides of 
 any thing should shew a balance, or an appearance 
 of equal quaniity, if we would strive to please a well- 
 constituted taste. 
 
 It is evident enough to me, that persons often oc- 
 cur, who may be said to have an ear to music, and 
 an eye for proportions in visible objects, who never- 
 theless can hardly be said to have a relish or taste 
 for either. I mean, that a person may distinguish 
 notes and tones to a nicety, and yet not give a discern- 
 ing choice to what is preferable in music. The same 
 in objects of sight. 
 
 On the other hand, they cannot have a proper 
 feeling of beauty or harmony, without a power of 
 discriminating those notes and proportions on which 
 harmony and beauty so fully depend. 
 
 What is said, in a treatise lately published for 
 beauty's being more common than deformity (and 
 seemingly with excellent reason), may be also said for 
 virtue's being more common than vice. 
 
 Quere, Whether beauty do not require as much 
 an opposition of lines, as it does an harmony of co- 
 lours ? 
 
 The passion for an^tiquity, as such, seems in some 
 measure opposite to the taste for beauty or perfec- 
 tion. It is rather the foible of a lazy and pusillani- 
 mous disposition, looking back and resting with 
 pleasure on the steps by which we have arrived thus 
 far, than the bold and enterprising spirit of a genius, 
 whose ambition fires him only to reach the goal. 
 
202 ESSAYS ON MEN 
 
 Such as is described (on another occasion) in the zeal- 
 ous and active charioteer of Horace: 
 
 " hunc atque hunc superare laboret. 
 
 " Instai equis aui-iga snos vincentibus; ilium 
 " Pn>v,t:eritum temnens extremes inter euntem/' 
 
 A^-ain, the 
 
 " Nil actum repiitans, si quid restaret agendum" 
 is the least applicable, of any character, to a mere 
 antiquarian ; who, instead of endeavouring to im- 
 prove or to excel, contents himself, perl-.aps, vvith 
 discovering the very name of a first inventor ; or 
 with tracing back an art tliat is nourishing, to the 
 very first source of its original deformity. 
 
 I have heard it claimed by adepts in music, that . 
 the pleasure it imparts to a natural ear, M'hich owes 
 little or nothing to cultivation, is by no means to be 
 compared to what they feel themselves from the most 
 perfect composition. ...The state of question may be 
 best explained by a recourse to objects that are anala- 
 gous....ls a country fellow less struck vvith beauty 
 than a philosopher or an anatomist, who knows how 
 that beauty is produced ? Surely no. On the other 
 hand, an attention to the effect.. .'.They may, indeed, 
 feel a pleasure of another sort.. ..The faculty of rea- 
 son may obtain some kind of balance, for what the 
 more sensible faculty of the imagination loses. 
 
 I am much inclined to suppose our ideas of beau- 
 ty depend greatly upon habit....what 1 mean is, up- 
 on the familiarity with objects which we happen to 
 have seen since we came into the v/orld....Our taste 
 for uniformity, from what we have observed in the 
 individual parts of nature, a man, a tree, a beast, a 
 bird, or insect. Sec. ...our taste for regularity from 
 what is within our power to observe in the several 
 perfections of the whole system. 
 
 A landscape, for instance, is always irregular, and 
 to use regularity in painting, or gardening, would 
 
AND MANNERS. 203 
 
 make our work unnatural and disagreeable. Thus 
 we allow beauty to the different, and almost oppo- 
 site, proportions of all animals. 
 
 There is, I think, a beauty in some forms, inde- 
 pendent of any use to which they can be applied. I 
 know not whether this may not be resolved into 
 smoothness of surface ; with variety to a certain de- 
 gree, that is comprehensible without much diffi- 
 culty. 
 
 As to the dignity of colours, quere, whether those 
 that affect the eye most forcibly, for instance, scar- 
 let, may not clai^Ti the first place ; allowini^ their 
 beauty to cloy soonest ; and other colours, the next, 
 according to their impulse ; allowing them to pro- 
 duce a more durable pleasure ? 
 
 It may be convenient to divide beauty into the ab- 
 solute and relative. Absolute is that abovemention- 
 ed. Relative is that by which an object pleases, 
 through the relative it bears to some other. 
 
 Our taste of beauty is, perhaps, compounded of 
 all the ideas that have entered the imagination from 
 our birth. This seems to occasion the different opin- 
 ions that prevail concerning it. For instance, a fo- 
 reign eye esteems those features and dresses hand- 
 some, which we think deformed. 
 
 Is it not then likely that those who have seen most 
 objects, throughout the universe, " ceteris paribus," 
 will be the most impartial judges : because they will 
 judge truest of the general proportion which was in- 
 tended by the Creator ; and is best. 
 
 The beauty of most objects is partly of the abso- 
 lute and partly of the relative kind. A Corinthian 
 pillar has some beauty dependent on its variety and 
 smoothness: which I would call absolute ; it has also 
 a relative beauty, dependent on its taperness and fo- 
 liage ; which, authors say, was first copied from the 
 leaves of plants, and the shape of a tree. 
 
 Uniformity should, perhaps, be added as another 
 source of absolute beauty (when it appears in one sia- 
 
204 ESSAYS, 8cc. 
 
 gle object). I do not know any other reason, but that 
 it renders the whole more easily comprehended. It 
 seems that nature herself considers it as beauty, as tb-e - 
 external parts of the human frame are made uniform 
 to please the sight ; which is rarely the case of the 
 internal, that are not seen. 
 
 Hutchinson determines absolute beauty to depend 
 on this and on variety : and says it is in a com|>ound 
 ratio of both. Thus an octagon excels a square : and 
 a square, a figure of unequal sides : but carry varie- 
 ty to an extreme, and it loses its effect. For instance, 
 multiply the number of angles till the mind loses the 
 uniformity of parts, and the figure is less pleasing ; 
 or, as it approaches nearer to around, it may be said 
 to be robbed of its variety. 
 
 But, amidst all these eulogiums of variety, it is pro- 
 per to observe, that novelty sometimes requires a lit- 
 tle abatement. I mean, that some degree of famili- 
 arity introduces a discovery of relative beauty, more 
 
 than adequate to the bloom of novelty This is, now 
 
 and then, obvious in the features of a face, the air 
 of some tunes, and the flavour of some dishes. In 
 short, it requires some familiarity to become acquaint- 
 ed with the relation that parts bear unto the whole, 
 or one object to another. 
 
 Variety, in the same object, where the beauty does 
 not depend on intimation (which is the case in foliage, 
 bustos, basso-relievos, painting), requires uniformity. 
 For instance, an octagon is much more beautiful than 
 a figure of unequal sides ; which is at once various 
 and disagreeable.* 
 
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