v.
 
 ESSAYS 
 
 AND 
 
 TREATISES 
 
 ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 By DAVID HUME, Esq. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 CONTAIMNO 
 
 ESSAYS, MORAL, POLITICAL, AND LITERARY. 
 
 *- - ' A- ;, T £Ji r EDITION. 
 
 '■a v- i i s ■ ■} 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 PRINTED FOR BELL & BRADFUTE, AND W. BLACKWOOD, EDINBUR6H ; 
 AND T CADELL & W. BAVIES J F. C. & J. RIVINGTON J WINGRAVE AND 
 
 coi.l;ng\vood ; j. cuthell ; j. otiudge; i.ongman, hurst, 
 
 RKES, ORME & BROWN ; LACKINGTON & CO. ; JOHN 
 
 RICHARDSON; E. JEFFERX"; J. MAWMAN; AND 
 
 I! ALU WIN, CRADDOCK & JOT, LONDON, 
 
 1817-
 
 • 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 VOLUME FIRST. 
 
 ESSAYS, MORAL, POLITICAL, AND LITERARY. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 FSSAY 
 
 I'AdE 
 
 I, Of the Delicacy of Taste and Passion , ° 
 
 II. Of the Liberty of the Press 8 
 
 III. That Politics may be reduced to a Science 12 
 
 VlV. Of the First Principles of Government 27 
 
 V. Of the Origin of Government 32 
 
 VI. Of the Independence of Parliament 37 
 
 VII. Whether the British Government inclines to Absolute Monar- 
 
 chy, or to a Republic 42 
 
 VIII. Of Parties in general 49 
 
 IX. Of the Parties of Great Britain 58 
 
 \X. Of Superstition and Enthusiasm C7 
 
 XI. Of the Dignity or Meanness of Human Nature 73 
 
 XII. Of Civil Liberty 81 
 
 XIII. Of Eloquence 91 
 
 XIV. Of the Rise and Progress of the Arts and Sciences 104 
 
 XV. The Epicurean 131 
 
 XVI. The Stoic 140 
 
 XVII. The Platonist 150 
 
 XVIII. The Sceptic 155 
 
 XIX. Of Polygamy and Divorces 178 
 
 XX. Or' Simplicity and Refinement in Writing 188 
 
 XXI. Of National Characters 194 
 
 XXII. Of Tragedy 211 
 
 ^ XXIII. Of the Standard of Taste 221
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 XSSAY TAGK 
 
 I. Of Commerce 249 
 
 II. Of Refinement in the Arts 265 
 
 III. Of Money. .jU 279iV 
 
 IV. Of Interest ..Y?. 293 
 
 V. Of the Balance of Trade ... wC 507 I 
 
 VI. Of the Jealousy of Trade 326 
 
 VII. Of the Balance of Power 331 
 
 VIII. Of Taxes 340 
 
 IX. Of Public Credit olG 
 
 X. Of some Remarkable Customs 363 
 
 XI. Of the Populousness of Ancient Nations 373 
 
 XII. Ofthe Original Contract 444 
 
 XIII. Of Passive Obedience 467 
 
 XIV. Ofthe Coalition of Parties 472 
 
 XV. Ofthe Protestant Succession 481 
 
 XVI. Idea of a Perfect Commonwealth 492
 
 ESSAYS, 
 
 MORAL, POLITICAL, AND LITERARY. 
 
 PART I *. 
 
 • Published in 1742. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 ESSAY I. 
 
 OF THE DELICACY OF TASTE AND PASSION. 
 
 oome people are subject to a certain delicacy of passion, 
 which makes them extremely sensible to all the accidents 
 of life, and gives them a lively joy upon every prosperous 
 event, as well as a piercing grief when they meet with 
 misfortunes and adversity. Favours and good offices easily 
 engage their friendship, while the smallest injury provokes 
 their resentment. Any honour or mark of distinction 
 elevates them above measure, but they are as sensibly 
 touched with contempt. People of this character have, 
 no doubt, more lively enjoyments, as well as more pun- 
 gent sorrows, than men of cool and sedate tenip_ers : But, 
 I believe, when every thing is balanced, there is no one, 
 who would not rather be of the latter character, were he 
 entirely master of his own disposition. Good or ill for- 
 tune is very little at our disposal ; and when a person, that 
 has this sensibility of temper, meets with any misfortune, 
 his sorrow or resentment takes entire possession of him, 
 and deprives him of all relish in the common occurrences 
 of life, the right enjoyment of which forms the chief part 
 of our happiness. Great pleasures are much less frequent /* 
 than great pains, so that a sensible temper must meet with 
 fewer trials in the former way than in the latter. Not to 
 mention, that men of such lively passions are apt to be
 
 i ESSAY I. 
 
 transported beyond all bounds of prudence and discretion, 
 and to take false steps in the conduct of life, which are 
 often irretrieva ble. ^ u ^ _ __^ :__n w m 
 
 There is a delicacy of taste observable in some men, 
 which very much resembles this delicacy oV'pnssion, and 
 produces the same sensibility to beauty and deformity of 
 every kind, as that does to prosperity and adversity, obli- 
 gations and injuries. When you present a poem or a pic- 
 ture to a man possessed of this talent, the delicacy of his 
 feeling makes him be sensibly touched with every part of 
 it ; nor are the masterly strokes perceived with more ex- 
 quisite relish and satisfaction, than the negligences or ab- 
 surdities with disgust and uneasiness. A polite and judi- 
 cious conversation affords him the highest entertainment : 
 rudeness or impertinence is as great a punishment to him. 
 In short, delicacy of taste has the same effect as delicacy 
 of passion. It enlarges the sphere both of our happiness 
 and misery, and makes us sensible to pains as well as plea- 
 sures, which escape the rest of mankind. 
 
 I believe, however, every one will agree with me, that, 
 notwithstanding this resemblance, delicacy of taste is as 
 much to be desired and cultivated, as delicacy of passion 
 is to be lamented, and to be remedied, if possible. The 
 good or ill accidents of life are very little at our disposal ; 
 \ but we are pretty much masters what books we shall read, 
 what diversions we shall partake of, and what company we 
 shall keep. Philosophers have endeavoured to render hap- 
 piness entirely independent of every thing external. The 
 decree of perfection is impossible to be attained ; but 
 every wise man will endeavour to place his happiness on 
 such objects chiefly as depend upon himself; and that is 
 not to be attained so much by any other means as by this 
 delicacy of sentiment. When a man is possessed of that
 
 DELICACY OF TASTE. 5 
 
 talent, he is more happy by what pleases his taste, than by 
 what gratifies his appetites, and receives more enjoyment 
 from a poem, or a piece of reasoning, than the must ex- 
 pensive luxury can afford. -?/>-- . -- _ ^ 
 
 Whatever connection there may be originally between 
 these two species of delicacy, I am persuaded, that nothing 
 is so proper to cure us of this delicacy of passion, as the 
 cultivating of that higher and more refined taste, which 
 enables us to judge of the characters of men, of composi- 
 tions of genius, and of the productions of the nobler arts. 
 A greater or less relish for those obvious beauties, which 
 strike the senses, depends entirely upon the greater or less 
 sensibility of the temper ; but with regard to the sciences 
 and liberal arts, a fine taste is, in some measure, the same 
 with strong sense, or at least depends so much upon it 
 that they are inseparable. In order to judge aright of a 
 composition of genius, there are so many views to be taken 
 in, so many circumstances to be compared, and such a 
 knowledge of human nature requisite, that no man, who 
 is not possessed of the soundest judgment, will ever make 
 a tolerable critic in such performances. And this is a new 
 reason for cultivating a relish in the liberal arts. Our 
 judgment will strengthen by this exercise. We shall form 
 juster notions of life. Many things which please or afflict 
 others, will appear to us too frivolous to engage our at- 
 tention ; and we shall lose by degrees that sensibility and 
 delicacy of passion, which is so incommodious. 
 
 But perhaps 1 have gone too far, in saying that a cul- 
 tivated taste for the polite arts extinguishes the passions, 
 and renders us indifferent to those objects, which are so 
 fondly pursued by the rest of mankind. On farther re- 
 flection, I find, that it rather improves our sensibility for 
 all the tender and agreeable passions ; at the same time
 
 b ESSAY I. 
 
 that it renders the mind incapable of the rougher and more 
 boisterous emotions. 
 
 Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artcs, 
 Emollit mores, nee sinit esse feros. 
 
 For this, I think, there may be assigned two very natural 
 reasons. In the Jirst place, nothing is so improving to the 
 temper as the study of the beauties, either of poetry, elo- 
 quence, music, or painting. They give a certain elegance 
 of sentiment to which the rest of mankind are strangers. 
 The emotions which they excite are soft and tender. They 
 draw off the mind from the hurry of business and interest ; 
 cherish reflection ; dispose to tranquillity; and produce 
 an agreeable melancholy, which, of all dispositions of the 
 mind, is the best suited to love and friendship. 
 
 In the second place, a delicacy of taste is favourable to 
 love and friendship, by confining our choice to few people, 
 and making us indifferent to the company and conversa- 
 tion of the greater part of men. You will seldom find 
 that mere men of the world, whatever strong sense they 
 may be endowed with, are very nice in distinguishing 
 characters, or in marking those insensible differences and 
 gradations, which make one man preferable to another. 
 Any one, that has competent sense, is sufficient for their 
 entertainment. They talk to him of their pleasures and 
 affairs, with the same frankness that they would to ano- 
 ther ; and finding many who are fit to supply his place, 
 they never feel any vacancy or want in his absence. But 
 to make use of the allusion of a celebrated French* author, 
 the judgment may be compared to a clock or watch, where 
 the most ordinary machine is sufficient to tell the hours - x 
 
 A Mons* Fontekkli.e, Pluralite des Mondes, Soir 6.
 
 DELICACY OF TASTE. 7 
 
 but the most elaborate alone can point out the minutes and 
 seconds, and distinguish the smallest differences of time. 
 One that has well digested his knowledge both of books and 
 men, has little enjoyment but in the company of a few se- 
 lect companions. He feels too sensibly, how much all the 
 rest of mankind fall short of the notions which he has en- 
 tertained. And, his affections being thus confined within 
 a narrow circle, no wonder he carries them further, than 
 if they were more general and undistinguished. The gaiety 
 and frolic of a bottle companion improves with him into a 
 solid friendships and the ardours of a youthful appetite 
 become an elegant passion.
 
 ESSAY II. 
 
 OF THE LIBERTY OV THE TRESS. 
 
 JN othing is more apt to surprise a foreigner, than the 
 extreme liberty, which we enjoy in this country, of com- 
 municating whatever we please to the public, and of open- 
 ly censuring every measure entered into by the King or 
 his ministers. If the administration resolve upon war, it 
 is affirmed, that, either wilfully or ignorantly, they mistake 
 the interests of the nation ; and that peace, in the present 
 situation of affairs, is infinitely preferable. If the passion 
 of the ministers lie towards peace, our political writers 
 breathe nothing but war and devastation, and represent 
 the pacific conduct of the government as mean and pusil- 
 lanimous. As this liberty is not indulged in any other go- 
 vernment, either republican or monarchical ; in Holland 
 and Venice, more than in France or Spain ; it may very 
 naturally give occasion to the question, Hnxv it happens 
 that Great Britain alone enjoys this peculiar privilege ? 
 
 The reason, why the laws indulge us_in such a liberty, 
 seems to be derived from our mixed form of government, 
 which is neither wholly monarchical, nor wholly republi- 
 can. It will be found, if I mistake not, a true observation 
 in politics, that the two extremes in government, liberty 
 and slavery, commonly approach nearest to each other j 
 and that, as you depart from the extremes, and mix a little
 
 /T C <\, ^< . ,• "il A-/7U- r^\**^- J "-"-v- «-— ' - 
 
 LIBERTY OF TiTE PRESS. 9 
 
 of monarchy witl{jibertjy the government becomes always 
 the more free ; and, on the other hand, when you mix a 
 little of liberty with monarchy, the yoke becomes always 
 the more grievous and intolerable. In a government, such 
 as that of France, which is absolute, and where law, cus- 
 tom, and religion concur, all of them, to make the people 
 fully satisfied with their condition, the monarch cannot en- 
 tertain any jealousy against his subjects, and therefore is 
 agt to indulge them in great liberties both of speech and 
 action. In a government altogether republican, such as 
 that of Holland, where there is no magistrate so eminent 
 as to gwe jealousy to the state, there is no danger in intrust- 
 ing the magistrates with large discretionary powers ; and 
 though many advantages result from such powers, in pre- 
 serving peace and order, yet they lay a considerable re- 
 straint on men's actions, and make every private citizen pay 
 a great respect to the government. Thus it seems evident 
 that the two extremes of absolute monarchy and of a repub- 
 lic, approach near to each other in some material circum- 
 stances. In the Jirst, the magistrate has no jealousy of the 
 people ; in the second, the people have none of the magis- 
 trate : Which want of jealousy begets a mutual confidence 
 and trust in both cases, and produces a species of liberty 
 in monarchies, and of arbitrary power in republics. 
 
 To justify the other part of the foregoing observation, 
 that, in every government, the means are most wide of 
 each other, and that the mixtures of monarchy and liberty 
 render the yoke either more easy or more grievous ; I must 
 take notice of a remark in Tacitus with regard to the Ro- 
 mans under the emperors, that tUey neither could bear to- 
 tal slavery nor total liberty, Nee totam servitutem, ncc tot am 
 libertaiem pati possunt. This remark a celebrated poet has
 
 10 ESSAY II. 
 
 translated and applied to the English, in his lively descrip- 
 tion of Queen Elizabeth's policy and government, 
 
 . 
 
 Et fit aimer son joug a l'Anglois indompte, 
 
 Qui ne peut ni servir, ni vivre en libertc. Henriade, liv. 1. 
 
 According to these remarks, we are to consider the Ro- 
 man government under the emperors as a mixture of des- 
 potism and liberty, where the despotism prevailed; and 
 the English government as a mixture of the same kind, 
 where the liberty predominates. The consequences are 
 conformable to the foregoing observation ; and such as 
 may be expected from those mixed forms of government, 
 which beget a mutual watchfulness and jealousy. The 
 Roman emperors were, many of them, the most frightful 
 tyrants that ever disgraced human nature; and it is evi- 
 dent, that their cruelty was chiefly excited by their jealousy, 
 and by their observing that all the great men of Rome 
 bore with impatience the dominion of a family, which, but 
 a little before, was nowise superior to their own. On the 
 other hand, as the republican part of the government pre- 
 vails in England, though with a great mixture of mo- 
 narchy, it is obliged, for its own preservation, to maintain 
 a watchful jealousy over the magistrates, to remove all dis- 
 cretionary powers, and to secure every one's life and for- 
 tune by general and inflexible laws. No action must be 
 deemed a crime but what the law has plainly determined 
 to be such : No crime must be imputed to a man but from 
 a legal proof before his judges ; and even these judge* 
 must be his fellow-subjects, who are obliged, by their own 
 interest, to have a watchful eye over the encroachments 
 and violence of the ministers. From these causes it pro- 
 ceeds, that there is as much liberty, and even, perhaps, li-
 
 LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 1 1 
 
 centiousness in Great Britain, as there were formerly sla- 
 very and tyranny in Rome. 
 
 These principles account for the great liberty of the 
 press in these kingdoms, beyond what is indulged in any 
 other government. It is apprehended, that arbitrary 
 power would steal in upon us, were we not careful to pre- 
 vent its progress, and were there not an easy method of 
 conveying the alarm from one end of the kingdom to the 
 other. The sjairJLoJf the people must frequently be roused, 
 in order to curb the ambition of the court ; and the dread 
 of rousing -this spirit must be employed to prevent that 
 ambition. Nothing so effectual to this purpose as the li- 
 berty of the press ; by which all the learning, wit, and 
 genius of the nation, may be employed on the side of free- 
 dom, and every one be animated to its defence. As long, 
 therefore, as the republican part of our government can 
 maintain itself against the monarchical, it will naturally be 
 careful to keep the press open, as of importance to its own 
 preservation.. 
 
 It must however be allowed, that the unbounded liberty 
 of the press, though it be difficult, perhaps impossible, to 
 propose a suitable remedy for it, is one of the evils attend- 
 ing those mixed forms of government. 
 
 - 
 
 f 

 
 ESSAY III. 
 
 THAT TOLITICS MAY BE REDUCED TO A SCIENCE. 
 
 Jt is a question with several, whether there be any essen- 
 tial difference between one form of government and ano- 
 ther ? and, whether every form may not become good or 
 bad, according as it is well or ill administered a ? Were it 
 once admitted, that all governments are alike, and that 
 the only difference consists in the character and conduct 
 of the governors, most political disputes would be at an 
 end, and all Zeal for one constitution above another must 
 be esteemed mere bigotry and folly. But, though a friend 
 to moderation, I cannot forbear condemning this senti- 
 ment, and should be sorry to think, that human affairs 
 admit of no greater stability, than what they receive from 
 the casual humours and characters of particular men. 
 
 It is true, those who maintain, that the goodness of all 
 government consists in the goodness of the administration, 
 may cite many particular instances in history, where the 
 very same government, in different hands, has varied sud- 
 denly into the two opposite extremes of good and bad. 
 Compare the French government under Henry III. and 
 under Henry IV. Oppression, levity, artifice on the part 
 of the rulers; faction, sedition, treachery, rebellion, dis- 
 
 * For forms of government let fools contest, 
 Whate'er )« best administered is best. 
 
 Essay ox Mai*. Book Z.
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 13 
 
 loyalty on the part of the subjects : These compose the 
 character of the former miserable era. But when the pa- 
 triot and heroic prince, who succeeded, was once firmly 
 seated on the throne, the government, the people, every 
 thing, seemed to be totally changed ; and all from the dif- 
 ference of the temper and conduct of these two sovereigns. 
 Instances of this kind may be multiplied, almost without 
 number, from anc"ent as well as modern history, foreign 
 as well as domestic. 
 
 But here it may be proper to make a distinction. All 
 absolute governments must very much depend on the ad- 
 ministration ; and this is one of the great inconveniences 
 attending that form of government. But a republican and 
 free government would be an obvious absurdity, if the par- 
 ticular checks and controls, provided by the constitution, 
 had really no influence, and made it not the interest, even 
 of bad men, to act for the public good. Such is the in- 
 tention of these forms of government, and such is their 
 real effect, where they are wisely constituted : As, on the 
 other hand, they are the source of all disorder, and of the 
 blackest crimes, where either skill or honesty has been 
 wanting in their original frame and institution. 
 
 So great is the force of laws, and of particular forms of 
 government, and so little dependence have they on the 
 humours and tempers of men, that consequences almost as 
 general and certain may sometimes be deduced from them, 
 as any which the mathematical sciences afford us. 
 
 The constitution of the Roman republic gave the whole 
 legislative power to the people, without allowing a nega- 
 tive voice either to the nobility or consuls. This unbound- 
 ed power they possessed in a collective, not in a represen- 
 tative body. The consequences were : When the people, 
 by success and conquest, had become very numerous, and
 
 1 i ESSAY III. 
 
 had spread themselves to a great distance from the capi- 
 tal, the city tribes, though the most contemptible, carried 
 almost every vote : They were, therefore, most cajoled by 
 every one that affected popularity : They were supported 
 in idleness by the general distribution of corn, and by par- 
 ticular bribes, which they received from almost every can- 
 didate : By this means, they became every day more li- 
 centious, and the Campus Martius was a perpetual scene 
 of tumult and sedition : Armed slaves were introduced 
 among these rascally citizens ; so that the whole govern- 
 ment fell into anarchy ; and the greatest happiness, which 
 the Romans could look for, was the despotic power of the 
 Caesars. Such are the effects of democracy without a re- 
 presentative. 
 
 A Nobility may possess the whole, or any part of the 
 legislative power of a state, in two different ways. Either 
 every nobleman shares the power as a part of the whole 
 body, or the whole body enjoys the power as composed 
 of parts, which have each a distinct power and authority. 
 The Venetian aristocracy is an instance of the first kind 
 of government ; the Polish, of the second. In the Vene- 
 tian government the whole body of nobility possesses the 
 whole power, and no nobleman has any authority which 
 he receives^ not from the wholes In the Polish govern- 
 ment every nobleman, by means of his fiefs, has a distinct 
 hereditary authority over his vassals, and the whole body 
 has no authority but what it receives from the concurrence 
 of its parts. The different operations and tendencies of 
 these two species of governmentlmight be made apparent 
 even a priori. A Venetian notnlity is preferable to a Po- 
 lish, let the humours and education of men be ever so 
 much varied. A nobility, who possess their power in com- 
 mon, will preserve peace and order, both among them*
 
 "^' 'TV' Y ^l 
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 15 
 
 selves, and their subjects ; and no member can have au- 
 thority enough to control the laws for a moment. The 
 nobles will preserve their authority over the people, but 
 without any grievous tyranny, or any breach of private 
 property ; because such a tyrannical government promotes 
 not the interests of the whole body, however it may that 
 of some individuals. There will be a distinction of rank 
 between the nobility and people, but this will be the only 
 distinction in the state. The whole nobility will form one 
 body, and the whole people another, without any of those 
 private feuds and animosities, which spread ruin and de- 
 solation every where. It is easy to see the disadvantages 
 of a Polish nobility in every one of these particulars. 
 
 It is possible so to constitute a free government, as that 
 a single person, call him a doge, prince, or king, shall 
 possess a large share of power, and shall form a pi'oper 
 balance or counterpoise to the other parts of the legisla- 
 ture. This chief magistrate may be either electi ve or he- 
 reditary ; and though the former institution may, to a su- 
 perficial view, appear the most advantageous j yet a more 
 accurate inspection will discover in it greater inconvenien- 
 ces than in the latter, and such as are founded on causes 
 and principles eternal and immutable. The filling of the 
 throne, in such a government, is a point of too great and 
 too general interest, not to divide the whole people into 
 factions : Whence a civil war, the greatest of ills* may be. 
 apprehended, almost with certainty, upon every vacancy. 
 The prince elected must be either a foreigner or a Na- 
 tive : The former will be ignorant of the people whom he 
 is to govern ; suspicious of his new subjects, and suspected 
 by them ; giving his confidence entirely to strangers, who 
 will have no other care but of enriching themselves in the 
 quickest manner while their master's favour and authority
 
 16 ESSAY III. 
 
 are able to support them. A native will carry into the 
 throne all his private animosities and friendships, and will 
 never be viewed in his elevation without exciting the sen- 
 timent of envy in those who formerly considered him as 
 their equal. Not to mention that a crown is too high a 
 reward ever to be given to merit alone, and will always in- 
 r duce the candidates to employ force, or money, or in- 
 trigue, to procure the votes of the electors : So that such 
 an election will give no better chance for superior merit in 
 the prince, than if the state had trusted to birth alone for 
 determining the sovereign. 
 
 It may therefore be pronounced as an universal axiom 
 in politics, That an hereditary prince, a nobility 'without 
 vassals, and a people noting by their representatives, form 
 the best monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. But 
 in order to prove more fully, that politics admit of general 
 truths, which are invariable by the humour or education 
 either of subject or sovereign, it may not be amiss to ob- 
 serve some other principles of this science, which may 
 seem to deserve that character. 
 
 It may easily be observed, that, though free govern- 
 ments have been commonly the most happy for those 
 who partake of their freedom ; yet are they the most ruin- 
 ous and oppressive to their provinces : And this observa- 
 tion may, I believe, be fixed as a maxim of the kind we 
 are here speaking of. When a monarch extends his do- 
 minions by conquest, he soon learns to consider his old 
 and his new subjects as on the same footing ; because, in 
 reality, all his subjects are to him the same, except the 
 few friends and favourites with whom he is personally ac- 
 quainted. He does not, therefore, make any distinction 
 between them in his general laws ; and, at the same time, 
 is careful to prevent all particular acts of oppression on 
 
 2
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 1? 
 
 the one as well as on the other. But a Fyge state .Necessa- 
 rily makes a great distinction, and must always do so, till 
 men learn to love their neighbours as well as themselves. 
 The conquerors, in such a government, are all legislators, 
 and will be sure to contrive matters, by restrictions on 
 trade, and by taxes, so as to draw some private, as well 
 as public advantage from their conquests. Provincial go- 
 vernors have also a better chance, in a republic, to escape 
 with their plunder, by means of bribery or intrigue ; and 
 their fellow-citizens, who find their own state to be enrich- 
 ed by the spoils of the subject provinces, will be the more 
 inclined to tolerate such abuses. Not to mention, that it 
 is a necessary precaution in a free state to change the go- 
 vernors frequently ; which obliges these temporary tyrants 
 to be more expeditious and rapacious, that they may ac- 
 cumulate sufficient wealth before they give place to their 
 successors. What cruel tyrants were the Romans over 
 the world during the time of their commonwealth ! It is 
 true, they had laws to prevent oppression in their provin- 
 cial magistrates ; but Cicero informs us, that the Romans 
 could not better consult the interests of the provinces than 
 by repealing these very laws. For, in that case, says he, 
 our magistrates, having entire impunity, would plunder 
 no more than would satisfy their own rapaciousness ; 
 whereas, at present, they must also satisfy that of their 
 judges, and of all the great men in Rome, of whose pro- 
 tection they stand in need. Who can read of the cruelties 
 and oppressions of Verres without horror and astonish- 
 ment ? And who is not touched with indignation to hear, 
 that, after Cicero had exhausted on that abandoned cri- 
 minal all the thunders of his eloquence, and had prevailed 
 so far as to get him condemned to the utmost extent of 
 the laws j yet that cruel tyrant lived peaceably to old age, 
 vol. i. c
 
 18 ESSAY III. 
 
 in opulence and ease, and, thirty years afterwards, was 
 put into the proscription by Mark Antony, on account of 
 his exorbitant wealth, where he fell with Cicero himself, 
 and all the most virtuous men of Rome? After the disso- 
 lution of the commonwealth, the Roman yoke became 
 easier upon the provinces, as Tacitus informs us a ; and it 
 may be observed, that many of the worst emperors, Do- 
 mitian b , for instance, were careful to prevent all oppres- 
 sion on the provinces. In Tiberius's c time. Gaul was es- 
 teemed richer than Italy itself: Nor do I find, during the 
 whole time of the Roman monarchy, that the empire be- 
 came less rich or populous in any of it> provinces ; though 
 indeed its valour and military discipline were always upon 
 the decline. The oppression and tyranny of the Cartha- 
 ginians over their subject states in Africa went so far, as 
 we learn from Polybius d , that, not content with exacting 
 the half of all the produce of the land, which of itself was 
 a very high rent, they also loaded them with many other 
 taxes. If we pass from ancient to modern times, we shall 
 still find the observation to hold. The p rovince s of abso- 
 lute monarchies are alvvavs belt er treated than jh o se _o £ 
 tree states. Compare the Pais conquis of France with Ire- 
 land, and you will be convinced of this truth ; though this 
 latter kingdom, being, in a good measure, peopled from 
 England, possesses so many rights and privileges as should 
 naturally make it challenge better treatment than that of 
 a conquered province. Corsica is also an obvious instance. 
 to the same purpose. 
 
 a Ann. lib. i. cap. '2. b Suet, in vita Domit. 
 
 c Egregium resumer-dae libertati tempus, si ipsi florentes, quaminops Ita- 
 lia, quam imbellis urbana plebs, nihil validum in exercitibus, nisi quod ex- 
 ternum cogitarent— Tacit. Ann. lib. iii. 
 
 d Lib. i. cap. 72.
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 19 
 
 There is an observation of Machiavel, with regard to 
 the conquests of Alexander the Great, which, I think, 
 may be regarded as one of those eternal political truths, 
 which no time nor accidents can vary. It may seem 
 strange, says that politician, that such sudden conquests, 
 as those of Alexander, should be possessed so peaceably 
 by his successors, and that the Persians, during all the 
 confusions and civil wars among the Greeks, never made 
 the smallest effort towards the recovery of their former in- 
 dependent government. To satisfy us concerning the cause 
 of this remarkable event, we may consider, that a monarch 
 may govern his subjects in two different ways. He may 
 either follow the maxims of the eastern princes, and stretch 
 his authority so far as to leave no distinction of rank among 
 his subjects, but what proceeds immediately from himself; 
 no advantages of birth ; no hereditary honours and pos- 
 sessions : and, in a word, no credit among the people, ex- 
 cept from his commission alone. Or a monarch may ex- 
 ert his power after a milder manner, like other European 
 princes ; and leave other sources of honour, beside his 
 smile and favour : Birth, title?, possessions, valour, inte- 
 grity, knowledge, or great and fortunate achievements. 
 In the former species of government, after a conquest, it 
 is impossible ever to shake off the yoke ; since no one pos- 
 sesses, among the people, so much personal credit and au- 
 thority as to begin such an enterprise : Whereas, in the 
 latter, the least misfortune, or discord among the victors, 
 will encourage the vanquished to take arms, who have 
 leaders ready to prompt and conduct them in every un- 
 dertaking 3 . 
 
 Such is the reasoning of Machiavel/, which seems solid 
 
 a See Note [A.]
 
 20 ESSAY III. 
 
 and conclusive; though I wish he had not mixed falsehood 
 with truth, in asserting, that monarchies, governed accord- 
 ing to eastern policy, though more easily kept when once 
 subdued, yet are the most difficult to subdue; since they 
 cannot contain any powerful subject, whose discontent and 
 faction may facilitate the enterprises of an enemy. For 
 besides, that such a tyrannical government enervates the 
 courage of men, and renders them indifferent towards the 
 fortunes of their sovereign ; besides this, I say, we find by 
 experience, that even the temporary and delegated autho- 
 rity of the generals and magistrates, bein^ always, in such 
 governments, as absolute within its sphere, as that of the 
 prince himself, is able, with barbarians, accustomed to a 
 blind submission, to produce the most dangerous and fa- 
 tal revolutions. So that in every respect, a gentle govern- 
 ment is preferable, and gives the greatest security to the 
 sovereign as well as to the subject. 
 
 Legislators, therefore, ought not to trust the future go- 
 vernment of a state entirely to chance, but ought to pro- 
 vide a system of laws to regulate the administration of 
 public affairs to the latest posterity. I ffi ec ts wi ll always 
 c orr espo n d to ransps -. and wise regulations, in any com- 
 monwealth, are the most valuable legacy that can be left 
 to future ao-es. In the smallest court or office, the stated 
 forms and methods, by which business must be conducted, 
 are found to be a considerable check on the natural de- 
 pravity of mankind. Why should not the case be the 
 same in public affairs ? Can we ascribe the stabi lity and 
 wisdom of the Venetian government, through so many 
 a ges, to any thing but the foxnxD£-gt)venimcnt ? And is 
 it not easy to point out those defects in the original con- 
 stitution, which produced the tumultuous governments of 
 Alliens and Rome, and ended at last in the ruin of these
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 2 I 
 
 two famous republics ? And so little dependence has this 
 affair on the humours and education of particular men, 
 that one part of the same republic may be wisely con-i 
 ducted, and another weakly, by the very same men, mere- 
 ly on account of the differences of the forms and institu-> 
 tions by which these parts are regulated. Historians in- 
 form us that this was actually the case with Genoa. For 
 while the state was always full of sedition, and tumult, and 
 disorder, the bank of St George, which had become a 
 considerable part of the people, was conducted, for several 
 ages, with the utmost integrity and wisdom a . 
 
 The ages of greatest public spirit are not always most 
 eminent for private virtue. Good laws may beget order 
 and moderation in the government, where the manners 
 and customs have instilled little humanity or justice into 
 the tempers of men. The most illustrious period of the 
 Roman history, considered in a political view, is that be- 
 tween the beginning of the first and end of the last Punic 
 war ; the due balance between the nobility and people be- 
 ing then fixed by the contests of the tribunes, and not be- 
 ing yet lost by the extent of conquests. Yet at this very 
 time, the horrid practice of poisoning was so common, 
 that, during part of the season, a Prcetor punished capi- 
 tally for this crime above three thousand b persons in a part 
 of Italy *, and found informations of this nature still mul- 
 
 a Essempio veramente raro, et da Filosofi intante loro imaginate et vedute 
 Republiche mai non trovato, vedere dentro ad un medesimo cerchio, fra me- 
 desimi cittadini, la liberta, et la tirannide, la vita civile et la corotta, la gius- 
 titia et la licenza ; perche quello ordinj solo mantiere quella citta piena di 
 costunii antichi et venerabili. E s'egli auvenisse (che col tempo in ogni 
 inoclo auverra) que San Giorgio tutta quel la citta occupasse, sarrebbe quella 
 una Republics piu dalla Venetians memorabile,— Delia IList* Flgrentine* 
 lib. viii. 
 
 '■ T. Livii, lib. xl. cap. 45.
 
 22 ESSAY III. 
 
 tiplying upon him. There is a similar, or rather a worse 
 instance 3 , in the more early times of the commonwealth, 
 So depraved in private life were that people, whom in their 
 histories we so much admire. I doubt not but they were 
 really more virtuous during the time of the two Triumvi- 
 rates ; when they were tearing their common country to 
 pieces, and spreading slaughter and desolation over the 
 face of the earth, merely for the choice of tyrants b . 
 
 Here, then, is a sufficient inducement to maintain, with 
 the utmost zeal, in every free state, those forms and insti- 
 tutions, by which liberty is secured, the public good con- 
 sulted, and the avarice or ambition of particular men re- 
 strained and punished. Nothing does more honour to 
 human nature, than to see it susceptible of so noble a pas- 
 sion ; as nothing can be a greater indication of meanness of 
 heart in any man than to see him destitute of it. A man 
 who loves only himself, without regard to friendship and 
 desert, merits the severest blame ; and a man, who is on- 
 ly susceptible of friendship, without public spirit, or a re- 
 gard to the community, is deficient in the most material 
 part of virtue. 
 
 But this is a subject which needs not be longer insisted 
 on at present. There are enow of zealots on both sides, 
 who kindle up the passions of their partisans, and, under 
 pretence of public good, pursue the interests and ends of 
 their particular faction. For my part, I shall always be 
 more fond of promoting moderation than zeal ; though 
 perhaps the surest way of producing moderation in every 
 party is to increase our zeal for the public. Let us therc- 
 
 " T. Livii, lib- viii. cap. 18. 
 
 b L' Aigle contre l'Aiglc, Romains contrc Romains, 
 Combatans seulejnent pour le choix dc tyrans. 
 
 C'ORNEI! I E.
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 23 
 
 fore try, n it be possible, from the foregoing doctrine, to 
 draw a lesson of moderation with regard to the parties 
 into which our country is at present divided ; at the same 
 time, that we allow not this moderation to abate the in- 
 dustry and passion, with which every individual is bound 
 to pursue the good of his country. 
 
 Those who either attack or defend a minister in such a 
 government as ours, where the utmost liberty is allowed, 
 always carry matters to an extreme, and exaggerate his 
 merit or demerit with regard to the public. His enemies 
 are sure to charge him with the greatest enormities, both 
 in domestic and foreign management ; and there is no 
 meanness or crime, of which, in lk««fce.a£CQunt, he is not 
 capable. Unnecessary wars, scandalous treaties, profusion 
 of public treasure, oppressive taxes, every kind of mal-ad- 
 ministration is ascribed to him. To aggravate the charge, 
 his pernicious conduct, it is said, will extend its baneful 
 influence even to posterity, by undermining the best con- 
 stitution in the world, and disordering that wise system of 
 laws, institutions, and customs, by which our ancestors, 
 during so many centuries, have been so happily governed. 
 He is not only a wicked minister in himself, but has re- 
 moved every security provided against wicked ministers 
 for the future. 
 
 On the other hand, the partisans of the minister make 
 his panegyric run as high as the accusation against him, 
 and celebrate his wise, steady, and moderate conduct in 
 every part of his administration. The honour and inte- 
 rest of the nation supported abroad, public credit main- 
 tained at home, persecution restrained, faction subdued; 
 the merit of all these blessings is ascribed solely to the 
 minister. At the same time, he crowns all his other me- 
 rits by a religious care of the best constitution in the
 
 24« ESSAY III. 
 
 world, which he has preserved in all its parts, and has 
 transmitted entire, to be the happiness and security of the 
 latest posterity. 
 
 When this accusation and panegyric are received by the 
 partisans of each party, no wonder they beget an extraor- 
 dinary ferment on both sides, and fill the nation with vio- 
 lent animosities. But I would fain persuade these party 
 zealots, that there is a flat contradiction both in the accu- 
 sation and panegyric, and that it were impossible for ei- 
 ther of them to run so high, were it not for this contra- 
 diction. If our constitution be really that noble fabric, 
 the pride of Britain, the envy of our neighbours, raised by 
 the labour of so many centuries, repaired at the expence of 
 so many millions, and cemented by such a profusion of blood a ,- 
 I say, if our constitution does in any degree deserve these 
 eulogies, it would never have suffered a wicked and weak 
 minister to govern triumphantly for a course of twenty 
 years, when opposed by the greatest geniuses in the na- 
 tion, who exercised the utmost liberty of tongue and pen, 
 in parliament, and in their frequent appeals to the people. 
 But, if the minister be wicked and weak, to the degree so 
 strenuously insisted on, the constitution must be faulty in 
 its original principles, and he cannot consistently be char- 
 ged with undermining the best form of government in the 
 world. A constitution is only so far good, as it provides 
 a remedy against mal-administration ; and if the British, 
 when in its greatest vigour, and repaired by two such re- 
 markable events, as the Revolution and Accession, by which 
 our ancient royal family was sacrificed to it ; if our con- 
 stitution, I say, with so great advantages, does not, in 
 fact, provide any such remedy, we are rather beholden to 
 
 » Dissertation on Parties, Letter X.
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 25 
 
 any minister who undermines it, and affords us an oppor- 
 tunity of erecting a better in its place. 
 
 I would employ the same topics to moderate the zeal 
 of those who defend the minister. Is our constitution so 
 excellent ? Then a change of ministry can be no such 
 dreadful event ; since it is essential to such a constitution, 
 in every ministry, both to preserve itself from violation, 
 and to prevent all enormities in the administration. Is 
 our constitution very bad ? Then so extraordinary a jea- 
 lousy and apprehension, on account of changes, is ill 
 placed ; and a man should no more be anxious in this case, 
 than a husband, who had married a woman from the stews, 
 should be watchful to prevent her infidelity. Public af- 
 fairs, in such a government, must necessarily go to con- 
 fusion, by whatever hands they are conducted ; and the 
 zeal of patriots is in that case much less requisite than the 
 patience and submission of philosophers. The virtue and 
 good intentions of Cato and Brutus arc highly laudable ; 
 but to what purpose did their zeal serve ? Only to hasten 
 the fatal period of the Roman government, and render its 
 convulsions and dying agonies more violent and painful. 
 
 I would not be understood to mean, that public affairs 
 deserve no care and attention at all. Would men be mo- 
 derate and consistent, their claims might be admitted ; at 
 least might be examined. The country-party might still 
 assert, that our constitution, though excellent, will admit 
 of mal-administration to a certain degree; and therefore, 
 if the minister be bad, it is proper to oppose him with a 
 suitable degree of zeal. And, on the other hand, the 
 court-party may be allowed, upon the supposition that the 
 minister were good, to defend, and with some zeal too, his 
 administration. I would only persuade men not to con- 
 tend, as if they were fighting pro arts et Jbcis, and change
 
 %G ESSAY III. 
 
 i\ good constitution into a bad one, by the -violence of their 
 factions. 
 
 I have not here considered any thing that is personal in 
 the present controversy. In the best civil constitution, 
 where every man is restrained by the most rigid iaws, it 
 is easy to discover either the good or bad intentions of a 
 minister, and to judge, whether his personal character de- 
 serve love or hatred. But such questions are of little im- 
 portance to the public, and lay those, who employ their 
 pens upon them, under a just suspicion either of malevo- 
 lence or of flattery.
 
 ESSAY IV. 
 
 OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 
 
 jSothing appears more surprising to those who consider 
 human affairs with a philosophical eye, than the easiness 
 with which the many are governed by the few ; and the 
 implicit submission, with which men resign their own sen- 
 timents and passions to those of their rulers. When we 
 inquire by what means this wonder is effected, we shall 
 find, that, as Force is always on the side of the governed, 
 the goyernore have nothing to su pp ort them but opinion. 
 It is. therefor e, on opinion only that government is found- 
 ed ; and this maxim extends to the most despotic and 
 most military governments, as well as to the most free and 
 most popula r. The soklan of Egypt, or the emperor of 
 Rome, might drive his harmless subjects, like brute beast?, 
 against their sentiments and inclination : But he must, at 
 least, have led his ?namakikes, or 'praetorian bands y like 
 men, by their opinion. 
 
 Opinion is of two kinds, to wit, opinion of interest, 
 and opinion of right. By opinion of interest, I chiefly 
 understand the sense of the general advantage which is 
 reaped from government ; together with the persuasion, 
 that the particular government, which is established, is 
 equally advantageous with any other that could easily be 
 settled. When this opinion prevails among the generali-
 
 '28 liSSAY IV. 
 
 ty of a state, or among those who have the force in their 
 hands, it gives great security to any government. 
 
 Right is of two kinds ; right to Power and right to Pro- 
 perty. What prevalence opinion of the first kind has 
 over mankind, may easily be understood, by observing the 
 attachment which all nations have to their ancient govern- 
 ment, and even to those names which have had the sanc- 
 tion of antiquity. Antiquity always begets the opinion of 
 right ; and whatever disadvantageous sentiments we may 
 entertain of mankind, they are always found to be prodi- 
 gal both of blood and treasure in the maintenance of pu- 
 blic justice. There is, indeed, no particular, in which, at 
 first sight, there may appear a greater contradiction in the 
 frame of the human mind than the present. /When men 
 act in a faction, they are apt, without shame or remorse, 
 to neglect all the ties of honour and morality, in order to 
 serve their party ; and yet, when a faction i:> formed upon. 
 a point of right or principle, there is no occasion where 
 men discover a greater obstinacy, and a more determined 
 sense of justice and equity, s The same social disposition 
 of mankind is the cause of these contradictory appearances. 
 
 It is sufficiently understood, that the opinion of right to 
 properly is of moment in all matters of government. A 
 noted author has made property the foundation of all go- 
 vernment ; and most of our political writers seem inclined 
 to follow him in that particular. This is carrying the mat- 
 ter too far ; but still it must be owned, that the opinion of 
 ri»ht to property has a great influence in this subject. 
 
 Upon these three opinions, therefore, of public interest, 
 of right to power, and of right to property, are all govern- 
 ments founded, and all authority of the few over the ma- 
 ny- There are indeed other principles, which add force 
 to these, and determine, limit, or alter their operation ;
 
 PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 29 
 
 such as self- interest^ fear and affection : But still we may as- 
 sert, that these other principles can have no influence alone, 
 but suppose the antecedent influence of those opinions above 
 mentioned. They are, therefore, to be esteemed the se- 
 condary, not the original principles of government. 
 
 For, firsts as to self-interest, by which I mean the ex- 
 pectation of particular rewards, distinct from the general 
 protection which we receive from government, it is evi- 
 dent that the magistrate's authority must be antecedently 
 established, at least be hoped for, in order to produce this 
 expectation. The prospect of reward may augment his 
 authority with regard to some particular persons ; but can 
 never give birth to it, with regard to the public. Men 
 naturally look for the greatest favours from their friends 
 and acquaintance ; and therefore, the hopes of any consi- 
 derable number of the state would never centre in any par- 
 ticular set of men. if these men had no other title to ma- 
 gistracy, and had no separate influence over the opinions 
 of mankind. The same observation may be extended to 
 the other two principles of fear and affection. No man 
 would have any reason to fear the fury of a tyrant, if he 
 had no authority over any but from fear; since, as a single 
 man, his bodily force can reach but a small w r ay, and all 
 the farther power he possesses must be founded either on 
 our own opinion, or on the presumed opinion of others. 
 And though affection to wisdom and virtue in a sovereign 
 extends very far, and has great influence ; yet he must an- 
 tecedently be supposed invested with a public character, 
 otherwise the public esteem will serve him in no stead, nor 
 will his virtue have any influence beyond a .narrow sphere. 
 
 A government may endure for several ages, though the 
 balance of power and the balance of property do not coin- 
 cide. This chiefly happens, where any rank or order of
 
 30 ESSAY IV. 
 
 the state has acquired a large share in the property ; but, 
 from the original constitution of the government, has no 
 s-hare in the power. Under what pretence would any in- 
 dividual of that order assume authority in public affairs ? 
 As men are commonly much attached to their ancient go- 
 vernment, it is not to be expected, that the public would 
 ever favour such usurpations. But w her e the original con - 
 stitut ion allows any share of j^gwer, though small^ to an 
 order o f men, w ho possess a large share of property, it is 
 easy for them gradually to stretch their authority, and 
 bring the balance of power to coincide with that of proper- 
 ty. This has been the case with the House of Commons 
 in England. 
 
 Most writers that have treated of the British govern- 
 ment, have supposed, that, as the Lower House repre- 
 sents all the commons of Great Britain, its weight in the 
 scale is proportioned to the property and power of all 
 whom it represents. But this principle must not be re- 
 ceived as absolutely true. For though the people are apt 
 to attach themselves more to the House of Commons than 
 to any other member of the constitution ; that House being 
 chosen by them as their representatives, and as the public 
 guardians of their liberty : yet are there instances where 
 the House, even when in opposition to the crown, has 
 not been followed by the people ; as we may particularly 
 observe of the tory House of Commons in the reign of 
 King William. Were the members obliged to receive 
 instructions from their constituents, like the Dutch depu- 
 ties, this would entirely alter the case ; and if such im- 
 mense power and riches, as those of all the commons of 
 Great Britain, were brought into the scale, it is not easy 
 to conceive, that the crown could either influence that 
 multitude of people, or withstand that balance of property
 
 CAP 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 31 
 
 It is true, the crown has great influence over the collective 
 body in the elections of members ; but were this influence, 
 which at present is only exerted once in seven years, to be 
 employed in bringing over the people to every vote, it 
 would soon be wasted, and no skill, popularity, or revenue 
 could support it. I must, therefore, be of opinion, that 
 an alteration in this particular would introduce a total 
 alteration in our government, and would soon reduce it 
 to a pure republic ; and, perhaps, to a republic of no in- 
 convenient form. For though the people, collected in a 
 body like the Roman tribes, be quite unfit for govern- 
 ment, yet, when dispersed in small bodies, they are more 
 susceptible both of reason and order j the force of popular 
 currents and tides is, in a great measure, broken » and the 
 public interest may be pursued with some method and 
 constancy. But it is needless to reason any farther con- 
 cerning a form of government, which js never li kely to 
 ha ve, place in Great Britajn, and which seems not to be 
 the aim of any party amongst us. Let us cherish and im- 
 prove our ancient government as much as possible, with- 
 out encouraging a passion for such dangerous novelties.
 
 ESSAY V. 
 
 OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 
 
 .\ft* JVjL an, born in a family, is compelled to maintain society, 
 from necessity, from natural inclination, and from "habit. 
 The same creature, in his farther progress, is engaged to 
 establish .political society, in order to administer justice ; 
 without which there can be no peace among them, nor 
 safety, nor mutual intercourse. We are, therefore, to 
 look upon all the vast apparatus of our gover nment, as 
 having ultimately no other object or purpose but the dis- 
 tribution of justice^or, in other words, the support of the 
 twelve judges. Kings and parliaments, fleets and armies, 
 officers of the court and revenue, ambassadors, ministers, 
 and privy-counsellors, are all subordinate in their end to 
 this part of administration. Even the clergy, as their 
 duty leads them to inculcate morality, may justly be 
 thought, so far as regards this world, to have no other 
 useful object of their institution. 
 
 All men are sensible of the necessity of justice to main- 
 tain peace and order ; and all men are sensible of the ne- 
 cessity of peace and order for the maintenance of society. 
 Yet, notwithstanding this strong and obvious necessity, 
 such is the frailty or pcrverseness of our nature ! it is im- 
 possible to keep men, faithfully and unerringly, in the 
 
 paths of justice. Some extraordinary circumstances may 
 
 l
 
 ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 33 
 
 happen, in which a man finds his interests to be more 
 promoted by fraud or rapine, than hurt by the breach 
 which his injustice makes in the social union. But much 
 more frequently he is seduced from his great and impor- 
 tant, but distant interests A by the allurement of present, 
 though often very frivolous temptations. This great weak- 
 ness is incurable in human nature . 
 
 Men must, therefore, endeavour to palliate what they 
 cannot cure. They must institute some persons under 
 the appellation of magistrates, whose peculiar office it is 
 to point out the decrees of equity, to punish transgressors, 
 to correct fraud and violence, and to oblige men, however 
 reluctant, to consult their own real and permanent interests. 
 In a word, obedience is a new duty which must be in- 
 vented to support that of justice., and the ties of equity 
 must-be corroborated by those of allegiance. 
 
 But still, viewing matters in an abstract light, it may be 
 thought, that nothing is gained by this alliance, and that 
 the factitious duty of obedience, from its very nature, lays 
 as feeble a hold of the human mind, as the primitive and 
 natural duty of justice. Peculiar interests and present 
 temptations may overcome the one as well as the other. 
 They are equally exposed to the same inconvenience, v 
 And the man, who is inclined to be a bad neighbour, 
 must be led by the same motives, well or ill understood, ', 
 to be a bad citizen and subject. Not to mention, that the 
 magistrate himself may often be negligent, or partial, or 
 unjust in his administration. 
 
 Experience, however, proves that there is a great dif- 
 ference between the cases. Order in society, we find, is 
 much better maintained by means of government; and 
 our duty to the magistrate is more strictly guarded by the 
 principles of human nature, than our duty to our fellow 
 
 VOL. i. j>
 
 U ta i 
 
 Si ESSAY V. 
 
 citizens. The love of dominion is so strong in the breast 
 of man, that many not only submit to, but court all the 
 dangers, and fatigues, and cares of government ; and men, 
 once raised to that station, though often led astray by pri- 
 vate passions, find, in ordinary cases, a visible interest in 
 the impartial administration of justice. The persons, who 
 first attain this distinction by the consent, tacit or express, 
 of the people, must be endowed with superior personal qua- 
 lities of valour, force, integrity, or prudence, which com- 
 mand respect and confidence: and, after governm ent is es- 
 tablished, a regard to birth, rank, and station, has amightv 
 
 i , influence over men, and enforces the decrees of the magis- 
 trate . The prince or leader exclaims against every disor- 
 der which disturbs his society. He summons all his par- 
 tisans and all men of probity to aid him in correcting and 
 redressing it : and he is readily followed by all indifferent 
 persons in the execution of his office. He scon acquires 
 the power of rewarding these services; and in the progress 
 of society, he establishes subordinate ministers and often a 
 military force, who find an immediate and a visible inte- 
 rest in supporting his authority. Habit soon consolidates 
 what other principles of human nature had imperfectly 
 founded ; and men, once accustomed to obedience, never 
 think of departing from that path ? in which they and their 
 ancestors have constantly trod, and to which they arc con- 
 fined by so many urgent and visible motives. 
 
 But though this progress of human affairs may appear 
 certain and inevitable, and though the support which al- 
 legiance brings to justice be founded on obvious principles 
 of human nature, it cannot be expected that men should 
 beforehand be able to discover them, or foresee their ope- 
 ration. Government commences more casually and more 
 imperfectly. It is probable, that the first ascendant. of one
 
 ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 35 
 
 man over multitudes begun during; a state of war ; where 
 the superiority of courage and of genius discovers itself 
 most visibly* where unanimity and concert are most requi- 
 site, and where the pernicious effects of disorder are most 
 sensibly felt. The long continuance of that state, an inci- 
 dent common among savage tribes, inured tiie people to 
 submission ; and if the chieftain possessed as much equity 
 as prudence and valour, he became, even during peace, the 
 arbiter of all differences, and could gradually, by a mix- 
 ture of force and consent, establish his authority. The be- 
 nefit sensibly felt from his influence, made it be cherished 
 by the people, at least by the peaceable and well-disposed 
 among them; and if his son enjoyed the same good qua- 
 lities, government advanced the sooner to maturity and 
 perfection ; but was still in a feeble state, till the farther 
 progress of improvement procured the magistrate a reve- 
 nue, and enabled him to bestow rewards on the several in- 
 struments of his administration, and to inflict punishments 
 on the refractory and disobedient. Before that period, 
 each exertion of his influence must have been particular, 
 and founded on the peculiar circumstances of t';e case. 
 After it, submission was no longer a matter of choice in 
 the bulk of the community, but was rigorously exacted by 
 the authority of the supreme magistrate. 
 
 In all governments, there is a perpetual intestine strug- 
 gle, open or secret, between Authority and Liberty j 
 and neither of them can ever absolutely prevail in the con- 
 test. A great sacrifice of liberty must necessarily be made 
 in every government; yet even the authority, which con- 
 fines liberty, can never, and perhaps ought never, in any 
 constitution, to become quite entire and uncontrollable. 
 The sultan is master of the life and fortune of any indivi- 
 dual ; but will not be permitted to impose new taxes on
 
 36 ESSAY V. 
 
 his subjects : a French monarch can impose taxes at plea- 
 sure ; but would find it dangerous to attempt the lives and 
 fortunes of individuals. Religion also, in most countries, 
 is commonly found to be a very intractable principle; and 
 other principles or prejudices frequently resist all the au- 
 thority of the civil magistrate j whose power, being found- 
 ed on opinion, can never subvert other opinions, equally 
 rooted with that of his title to dominion. The govern- 
 ment, which, in common appellation, receives the appella- 
 tion of free, is that which admits of a partition of power 
 among several members, whose united authority is no less, 
 or is commonly greater, than that of any monarch; but 
 who, in the usual course of administration, must act by ge- 
 neral and equal laws, that are previously known to all the 
 members, and to all their subjects. In this sense, it must 
 be owned, that liberty is the perfection of civil society ; but 
 still authority must be acknowledged essential to its very 
 existence : and in those contests, which so often take place 
 between the one and the other, the latter may, on that ac- 
 count, challenge the preference. Unless perhaps one may 
 say (and it may be said with some reason) that a circum- 
 stance, which is essential to the existence of civil society, 
 must always support itself, and needs be guarded with less 
 jealousy, than one that contributes only to its perfection, 
 which the indolence of men is so apt to neglect, or their 
 ignorance to overlook.
 
 ESSAY VI. 
 
 OF THE INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 
 
 .1 olitical writers have established it as a maxim, that, 
 in contriving any system of government, and fixing the 
 several checks and controls of the constitution, every man 
 ought to be supposed a hiave t and to have no other end, 
 in all his actions, than private interest. By this interest 
 we must govern him, and, by means of it, make him, not- 
 withstanding his insatiable avarice and ambition, co-ope- 
 rate to public good. Without this, say they, we shall in 
 vain boast of the advantages of any constitution, and shall 
 find, in the end, that we have no security for our liberties 
 or possessions, except the good-will of our rulers ; that is, 
 we shall have no security at all. 
 
 It is, therefore, a just political maxim, that every man 
 must be supposed a knave ; though, at the same time, it 
 appears somewhat strange, that a maxim should be true in 
 politics which is false \x\faet. But to satisfy us on this ; 
 head, we may consider, that men are generally more ho- 
 nest in their private than in their public capacity, and will 
 go greater lengths to serve a party, than when their own 
 private interest is alone concerned. Honour is a great 
 check upon mankind : But where a considerable body of 
 men act together, this check is in a great measure remo^
 
 38 ESSAY VI. 
 
 veil : since a man is sure to be approved of by his own par- 
 ty, for what promotes the common interest ; and he soon 
 learns to despise the clamours of adversaries. To which 
 we may add, that every court or senate is determined by 
 the greater number of voices ; so that, if self-interest in- 
 faiences only the majority (as it will always do), the whole 
 senate follows the allurements of this separate interest, and 
 acts as if it. contained not one member who had any regard 
 to public interest and liberty. 
 
 "When there offers, therefore, to our censure and exami- 
 nation, any plan of government, real or imaginary, where 
 the power is distributed among several courts, and several 
 orders of men, we should always consider the separate in- 
 terest of each court, and each order ; and, if we find that 
 by the skilful division of power, this interest must necessa- 
 rily, in its operation, concur with the public, we may pro- 
 noun -ve that government to be wise and happy. If, on the 
 contrary, separate interest be not checked, and be net di- 
 rected to the public, we ought to look for nothing but fac- 
 tion, disorder, and tyranny from such a government. In 
 this opinion I am justified by experience, as well as by the 
 authority of all philosophers and politicians, both ancient 
 and modern. 
 
 Hew much, therefore, would it have surprised such a ge- 
 nius as Cicero or Tacitus, to have been told, that in a fu- 
 ture age, there should arise a very regular system of mixed 
 government, where the authority was so distributed, that 
 one rank, whenever it pleased, might swallow up all the 
 rest, and engross the whole power of the constitution. — 
 Such a government, they would say, will not be a mixed 
 government. For so great is the natural ambition of men, 
 that they are never satisfied with power; and if one order 
 of men, by pursuing its own interest, can usurp upon every
 
 INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 39 
 
 other order, it will certainly do so, and render itself, as 
 far as possible, absolute and uncontrollable. 
 
 But, in this opinion, experience shews they would have 
 been mistaken. For this is actually the case with the Bri- 
 tish constitution. The share of power, allotted by our 
 constitution to the house of commons, is so great, that it 
 absolutely commands all the other parts of the government. 
 The king's legislative power is plainly no proper check to 
 it. For though the kins- has a negative in framing laws, 
 yet this, in fact, is esteemed of so little moment, that what- 
 ever is voted by the two houses, is always sure to pass into 
 a law, and the royal assent is little better than a form. 
 The principal weight of the crown lies in the executive 
 power. But besides that the executive power in every go- 
 vernment is altogether subordinate to the legislative j be- 
 sides this, I say, the exercise cf this power requires an im- 
 mense expence, and the commons have assumed to them- 
 selves the sole right cf granting money. How easy, 
 therefore, would it be for that house to wicst from the 
 crown all these powers, one after another; by making eve- 
 ry grant conditional, and choosing their time so well, that 
 their refusal of supply should only distress the government, 
 without giving foreign powers any advantage over us ? Did 
 the house of commons depend in the same manner upon, 
 the king, and had none of the members any property but 
 from his gift, would net he command all their resolutions, 
 and be from that moment absolute ? As to the house of 
 lords, they are a very powerful support to the crown, so 
 long as they are, in their turn, supported by it ; but belli 
 experience and reason shew, that they have no force or au- 
 thority sufficient to maintain themselves alone, without such 
 support.
 
 40 ESSAY VI. 
 
 How, therefore, shall we solve this paradox ? And by 
 what means is this member of our constitution confined 
 within the proper limits ; since, from our very constitution, 
 it must necessarily have as much power as it demands, and 
 can only be confined by itself? How is this consistent 
 with our experience of human nature ? I answer, that the 
 interest of the body is here restrained by that of the indi- 
 viduals, and that the house of commons stretches not its 
 power, because such an usurpation would be contrary to 
 the interest of the majority of its members. The crown 
 lias so many offices at its disposal, that, when assisted by 
 the honest and disinterested part of the house, it will al- 
 ways command the resolutions of the whole, so far, at least, 
 as to preserve the ancient constitution from danger. We 
 may, therefore, give to this influence what name we please ; 
 we may call it by the invidious appellations of corruption 
 and dependence ; but some degree and some kind of it are 
 inseparable from the very nature of the constitution, and 
 necessary to the preservation of our mixed government. 
 
 Instead, then, of asserting a absolutely, that the depen- 
 dence of parliament, in every degree, is an infringement 
 of British liberty, the country-party should have made some 
 concessions to their adversaries, and have only examined 
 what was the proper degree of this dependence, beyond 
 which it became dangerous to liberty. But such a mode- 
 ration is not to be expected in party-men of any kind. 
 After a concession of this nature, all declamation must be 
 abandoned \ and a calm inquiry into the proper degree of 
 court-influence and parliamentary dependence would have 
 been expected by the readers. And though the advan- 
 tage, in such a controversy, might possibly remain to the 
 
 '" See Dissertation on Parties, throughout.
 
 INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 41 
 
 country-party ; yet the victory would not be so complete 
 as they wish for, nor would a true patriot have given an 
 entire loose to his zeal, for fear of running matters into a 
 contrary extreme, by diminishing too a far the influence of 
 the crown. It was, therefore, thought best to deny, that 
 this extreme could ever be dangerous to the constitution, 
 or that the crown could ever have too little influence over 
 members of parliament. 
 
 Ail questions concerning the proper medium between 
 extremes are difficult to be decided ; both because it is not 
 easy to find words proper to fix this medium, and because 
 the good and ill, in such cases, run so gradually into each 
 other, as even to render our sentiments doubtful and un- 
 certain. But there is a peculiar difficulty in the present 
 case, which would embarrass the most knowing and most 
 impartial examiner. The power of the crown is always 
 lodged in a single person, either king or minister ; and as 
 this person may have either a greater or less degree of am- 
 bition, capacity, courage, popularity, or fortune, the poweiy 
 which is too great in one hand, may become too little in 
 another. In pure republics, where the authority is distri- 
 buted among several assemblies or senates, the checks and 
 controls are more regular in their operation ; because the 
 members of such numerous assemblies may be presumed to 
 be always nearly equal in capacity and virtue; and it is only 
 their number, riches, or authority, which enter into consi- 
 deration. But a limited monarchy admits not of any such 
 stability ; nor is it possible to assign to the crown such a de- 
 terminate degree of power, as will, in every Land, form a 
 proper counterbalance to the other parts of the constitu- 
 tion. This is an unavoidable disadvantage, among the 
 many advantages, attending that species of government. 
 
 a See Note TBI
 
 ESSAY VII. 
 
 WHETHER THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT INCLINES MORE TO 
 ABSOLUTE MONARCHY, OR TO A REPUBLIC. 
 
 It affords a violent prejudice against almost every science, 
 that no prudent man, however sure of his principles, dares 
 prophesy concerning any event, or foretell the remote con- 
 sequences of things. A physician will not venture to pro- 
 nounce concerning the condition of his patient a fortnight 
 or a month after : And still less dares a politician foretell 
 the situation of public affairs a few years hence. Harring- 
 ton thought himself so sure of his general principles, that 
 the balance of potter depends on that of property ', that he 
 ventured to pronounce it impossible ever to re-establish 
 monarchy in England : But his book was scarcely pub- 
 lished when the king was restored ; and we see, that mo- 
 narchy has ever since subsisted upon the same footing as 
 before. Notwithstanding this unlucky example, I will 
 venture to examine an important question, to wit, Whether 
 the British government inclines more to absolute monarch}/, 
 or to a republic ,• and in which of these two species of go- 
 vernment it will most probably terminate P As there seems 
 not to be anv Great danger of a sudden revolution either 
 wav, 1 shall at least escape the shame attending my teme- 
 ritv, if I should be found to have been mistaken. 
 
 Those who assert, that the balance of our government
 
 THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 43 
 
 inclines towards absolute monarchy, may support their opi- 
 nion by the following reasons : That property has a great 
 influence on power cannot possibly be denied ; but yet the 
 general maxim, that the balance of the one depends on the ba- 
 lance of the other, must be received with several limitations. 
 It is evident, that much less property in a single hand will 
 be able to counterbalance a greater property in several \ not 
 only because it is difficult to make many persons combine 
 in the same views and measures ; but because property, 
 when united, causes much greater dependence, than the 
 same property when dispersed. A hundred persons, of 
 L. 1000 a-year a-piece, can consume all their income, and 
 nobody shall ever be the better for them, except their ser- 
 vants and tradesmen, who justly regard their profits as the 
 product of their own labour. But a man possessed of 
 L. 100,000 a-year, if he has either any generosity, or any- 
 cunning, may create a great dependence by obligations, 
 and still a greater by expectations. Hence we may ob- 
 serve, that, in all free governments, any subject exorbitant- 
 ly rich has always created jealousy, even though his riches 
 bore no proportion to those of the state. Crassus's for- 
 tune, if I remember well, amounted only to about two mil- 
 lions and a half of our money ; yet we find, that though 
 his geniu- was nothing extraordinary, he was able, by means 
 of his riches alone, to counterbalance, during his lifetime, 
 the power of Pompey as well as that of Caesar, who after- 
 wards became master of the world. The wealth of the 
 /Medici made them masters of Florence ; though, it is pro- 
 bable, it was not considerable, compared to the united 
 property of that opulent republic. 
 
 These considerations arc apt to make one entertain a 
 magnificent idea of the British spirit and love of liberty ; 
 since wc could maintain our free government, during so
 
 44 ESSAY VII. 
 
 many centuries, against our sovereigns, who, besides the 
 power, and dignity, and majesty of the crown, have always 
 been possessed of much more property, than any subject 
 has ever enjoyed in any commonwealth. But it may be 
 said, that this spirit, however great, will never be able to 
 support itself against that immense property, which is now 
 lodged in the king, and which is still increasing Upon a 
 moderate computation, there are near three millions a-year 
 at the disposal of the crown. The civil list amounts to 
 near a million ; the collection of all taxes to another ; and 
 the employments in the army and navy, together with ec- 
 clesiastical preferments, to above a third million : — an 
 enormous sum, and what may fairly be computed to be 
 more than a thirtieth part of the whole income and labour 
 of the kingdom. When we add to this great property, 
 the increasing luxury of the nation, our proneness to cor- 
 ruption, together with the great power and prerogatives of 
 the crown, and the command of military force, there is no 
 one but must despair of being able, without extraordinary 
 efforts, to support our free government much longer under 
 these disadvantages. 
 
 On the other hand, those who maintain, that the bias 
 of the British government leans towards a republic, may 
 support their opinion by specious arguments. It maybe 
 said, that though this immense property in the crown be 
 joined to the dignity of first magistrate, and to many other 
 legal powers and prerogatives, which should naturally give 
 it greater influence ; yet it really becomes less dangerous 
 to liberty upon that very account. Were England a repub- 
 lic, and were any private man possessed of a revenue, a 
 third, or even a tenth part as large as that of the crown, 
 he would very justly excite jealousy; because he w 7 ould in- 
 fallibly have great authority in the government. And such
 
 THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 4-5 
 
 an irregula* authority, not avowed by the laws, is always 
 more dangerous than a much greater authority derived 
 from them. A man possessed of usurped power, can set 
 no bounds to his pretensions : His partisans have liberty. 
 to hope for every thing in his favour : His enemies pro- 
 voke his ambition with his fears, by the violence of their 
 opposition : And the government being thrown into a fer- 
 ment, every corrupted humour in the state naturally ga- 
 thers to him. On the contrary, a legal authority, though 
 great, has always some bounds, which terminate both the 
 hopes and pretensions of the person possessed of it : The 
 laws must have provided a remedy against its excesses : 
 Such an eminent magistrate has much to fear, and little 
 to hope from his usurpations : And as his legal authority 
 is quietly submitted to, he has small temptation and small 
 opportunity of extending it farther. Besides, it happens, 
 with regard to ambitious aims and projects, what may be 
 observed with regard to sects of philosophy and religion. 
 A new sect excites such a ferment, and is both opposed 
 and defended with such vehemence, that it always spreads 
 faster, and multiplies its partisans with greater rapidity, than 
 any old established opinion, recommended by the sanction 
 oi the laws and of antiquity. Such is the nature of novel- 
 ty, that, where any thing pleases, it becomes doubly agrce- 
 ble, if new j but if it displeases, it is doubly displeasing 
 upon that very account. And, in most cases, the violence 
 of enemies is favourable to ambitious projects, as well as 
 the zeal of partisans. 
 
 It may farther be said, that, though men be much go- 
 verned by interest; yet even interest itself«^and all human 
 affairs, are entirely governed by opinion. (Now, there has 
 been a sudden and sensible change in the opinions of men 
 within these last fifty years, by the progress of learning and
 
 43 ESSAY VII. 
 
 of liberty. Most people, in this island, have divested them- 
 selves of all superstitious reverence to names and authori- 
 ty : The clergy have much lost their credit : Their pre- 
 tensions and doctrines have been ridiculed ; and even re- 
 ligion can scarcely support itself in the world. The mere 
 name of Icing commando little respect •, and to talk of a 
 king as God's vicegerent on earth, or to give him any of 
 those magnificent titles which formerly dazzled mankind, 
 would but excite laughter in every one.) Though the 
 crown, by means of its large revenue, may maintain its au- 
 thority, in times of tranquillity, upon private interest end 
 influence; yet, as the least stock or convulsion must break 
 all these interests to pieces, the royal power, being no long- 
 er supported by the settled principles and opinions of men, 
 will immediately dissolve. Had men been in the same 
 disposition at the Revolution, as they arc at present, mo- 
 narchy would have run a great risk of being entirely lost 
 in this island. 
 
 Durst I venture to deliver my own sentiments amidst 
 these opposite arguments, I would assert, that, unless 
 there happen some extraordinary convulsion, the power 
 of the crown, by means of its large revenue, is rather 
 upon the increase ; though at the same time I own, that 
 its progress seems very slow, and almost insensible. The 
 tide has run long and with some rapidity to the side of 
 popular government, and is just beginning to turn towards 
 monarchy. 
 
 /It is well known, that every government must come to 
 a^penod, and that death is unavoidable to the political as 
 well as to the animal body. But, as one kind of death may 
 be preferable to another, it may be inquired, whether it 
 be more desirable for the British constitution to termi- 
 nate in a popular government, or in an absolute monarchy ? 
 
 M \~i\ 
 
 }. . ^ ■■'•'.;*'
 
 THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 47 
 
 Here I would frankly declare, that, though liberty be pre- 
 ferable to slavery, in almost every case; yet I should ra- 
 ther wi»h t o see an absolute monarc h, than a republic in ,- 
 this island. For let us consider what kind of republic we 
 have reason to expect. The question is not concerning 
 any fine imaginary republic, of which a man may form a 
 plan in his closet. There is no doubt, bu t a popular g o- 
 vemment may be imagined more perf ect than absolu_ te_ 
 monarch} 7 , or even than our present constitution. But 
 what reason have we to expect that any such government 
 will ever be established in Great Britain, upon the dissolu- 
 tion of our monarchy ? If any single person acquire power 
 enough to take our constitution to pieces, and put it up 
 anew, he is really an absolute monarch ; and we have al- 
 ready had an instance of this kind, sufficient to convhice 
 us, that such a person will never resign his power, or es- 
 tablish any free government. Matters, therefore, must be 
 trusted to their natural progress and operation ; and the 
 house of commons, according to its present constitution, 
 must be the only legislature in such a popular government. 
 The inconveniences attending such a situation of affairs, 
 present themselves by thousands. If the house of com- 
 mons, in such a case, ever dissolve itself, which is not to 
 be expected, we may look for a civil war every election. 
 If it continue itself, we shall suffer all the tyranny of a fac- 
 tion subdivided into new factions. And, as such a violent 
 government cannot long subsist, we shall, at last, after 
 many convulsions and civil wars, find repose in absolute 
 monarchy, which it would have been happier for us to 
 have established peaceably from the beginning. Absolute 
 monarchy, therefore, is the easiest death, the true Eitf7ia- 
 ruisia of the British constitution. 
 
 i r ' 
 1 A
 
 4S ESSAY VIT. 
 
 Thus, if we have reason to be more jealous of monarchy, 
 because the danger is more imminent from that quarter; 
 we have also reason to be more jealous of popular govern- 
 ment, because that danger is more terrible. This may 
 teach us a lesson of moderation in all our political contro- 
 vcrsicsX
 
 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 
 
 Of all men that distinguish themselves by memorable 
 achievements, the first place of honour seems due to Le- 
 gislators and founders of states, who transmit a system 
 of laws and institutions to secure the peace, happiness, and 
 liberty of future generations. The influence of useful in- 
 ventions in the arts and sciences may, perhaps, extend 
 farther than that of wise laws, whose effects are limited 
 both in time and place ; but the benefit arising from the 
 former is not so sensible as that which results from the lat- 
 ter. Speculative sciences do, indeed, improve the mind, 
 but this advantage reaches only to a few persons, who have 
 leisure to apply themselves to them. And as to practical 
 arts, which increase the commodities and enjoyments of 
 life, it is well known, that men's happiness consists not so 
 much in an abundance of these, as in the peace and secu- 
 rity with which they possess them ; and those blessings* 
 can only be derived from good government. Not to men- 
 tion, that general virtue and good morals in a state, which 
 are so requisite to happiness, can never arise from the 
 most refined precepts of philosophy, or even the severest 
 injunctions of religion ; but must proceed entirely from the 
 virtuous education of youth, the effect of wise laws and in- 
 stitutions. I must therefore presume to differ from Lord 
 VOL. I. f,
 
 50 essay vrir. 
 
 Bacon in this particular, and must regard antiquity as 
 somewhat unjust in its distribution of honours, when it 
 made gods of all the inventors of useful arts, such as Ceres, 
 Bacchus, iEsculapius ; and dignified legislators, such as 
 Romulus and Theseus, only with the appellation of demi- 
 gods and heroes. 
 
 As much as legislators and founders of states ought to be 
 honoured and respected among men, as much ought the 
 founders of sects and factions to be detested and hated •, 
 because the influence of faction is directly contrary to that 
 of laws. Factions subvert government, render laws im- 
 potent, and beget the fiercest animosities among men of 
 the same nation, who ought to give mutual assistance and 
 protection to each other. And what should render the 
 founders of parties more odious, is the difficulty of extirpa- 
 ting these weeds, when once they have taken root in any 
 state. They naturally propagate themselves for many cen- 
 turies, and seldom end but by the total dissolution of that 
 government, in which they arc sown. They are, besides, 
 plants which grow most plentifully in the richest soil ; and 
 though absolute governments be not wholly free from them, 
 it must be confessed, that they rise more easily, and propa- 
 gate themselves faster in free governments, where they al- 
 ways infect the legislature itself, which alone could be able, 
 by the steady application of rewards and punishments, to 
 eradicate them. 
 
 Factions may be divided into Personal and Real ; that 
 is, into factions, founded on personal friendship or animo- 
 sity among such as compose the contending parties, and 
 into those founded on some real difference of sentiment or 
 interest. The reason of this distinction is obvious : though 
 I must acknowledg,*, that parties are seldom found pure 
 and unmixed, cither of the one kind or the other. It is
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. i>l 
 
 not often seen, that a government divides into factions, 
 where there is no difference in the views of the constituent 
 members, either real or apparent, trivial or material : And 
 in those factions, which are founded on the most real and 
 most material difference, there is always observed a great 
 deal of personal animosity or affection. But notwithstand- 
 ing this mixture, a party may be denominated either per- 
 sonal or real, according to that principle which is predo- 
 minant, and is found to have the greatest influence. 
 
 Personal factions arise most easily in small republics* 
 Every domestic quarrel, there, becomes an affair of state. 
 Love, vanity, emulation, any passion, as well as ambition 
 and resentment, begets public division. The Neri and 
 Bianchi of Florence, the Fregosi and Adorni of Genoa, 
 the Colonnesi and Orsim of modern Rome, were parties 
 of this kind. 
 
 Men have such a propensity to divide into personal 
 factions, that the smallest appearance of real difference will 
 produce them. What can be imagined more trivial than 
 the difference between one colour of livery and another in 
 horse-races ? Yet this difference begat two most inveterate 
 factions in the Greek empire, the Prasini and Veneti, 
 who never suspended their animosities till they ruined that 
 unhappy government. 
 
 We find in the Roman history a remarkable dissension 
 between two tribes, the Poll; a and Papiria, which con- 
 tinued for the space of near three hundred years, and dis- 
 covered itself in their suffrages at every election of ma- 
 gistrates a . This faction was the more remarkable, as it 
 could continue for so long a tract of time ; even though it 
 
 a As this fact has not been much observed by antiquaries or politicians 
 I shall deliver it in the word^ of the Roman historian " Populus Tuscula- 
 nus cum conjugibus ac liberis Romam venit : Ea multitude veste mutata»
 
 52 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 did not spread itself, nor draw any of the other tribes into 
 a share of the quarrel. If mankind had not a strong pro- 
 pensity to such divisions, the indifference of the rest of the 
 community must have suppressed this foolish animosity, 
 that had not any aliment of new benefits and injuries, of 
 general sympathy and antipathy, which never fail to take 
 place, when the whole state is rent into two equal factions. 
 
 Nothing is more usual than to see parties, which have 
 begun upon a real difference, continue even after that dif- 
 ference is lost. When men are once inlisted on opposite 
 sides, they contract an affection to the persons with whom 
 they are united, and an animosity against their antagonists : 
 And these passions they often transmit to their posterity. 
 The real difference between Guelf and Ghibbelline was long 
 lost in Italy, before these factions were extinguished. The 
 Guelfs adhered to the pope, the Ghibbellines to the em- 
 peror ; yet the family of Sforza, who were in alliance with 
 the emperor, though they were Guelfs, being expelled Milan 
 by the king a of France, assisted by Jacomo Trivulzio and 
 the Ghibbellines, the pope concurred with the latter, and 
 they formed leagues with the pope against the emperor. 
 
 The civil wars which arose some few years a^o in Mo- 
 rocco, between the blacks and ti/ritcs, merely on account of 
 their complexion, are founded on a pleasant difference. 
 We laugh at them ; but I believe, were things rightly exa- 
 ct specie reorum, tribus circuit, genibus se omnium advolvens. Plus itaquc 
 misericordia ad pa-rue veniam impetrandam, quam causa ad crimen pur- 
 gandum valuit. Tribus omnes, propter Polliam, antiquarunt legem. Pollia: 
 sententia fuit, puberes verberatos necari ; liberos conjugesque sub corona 
 lege belli venire ; Memoriamque ejus ira: Tusculanis in poena? tarn atrocis 
 auctores, mansisse ad patrum ;etatem constat, ncc quemquam fcrme ex Pollia 
 tribu candidatum Papiriam ferre solitum." T. Livii, lib. S. The Cast.ei.aN! 
 and Nkjolloti are two mobbish factions in Venice, who frequently box to- 
 gether, and then lay aside their quarrels presently. 
 
 a Lewis XII.
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 53 
 
 mined, we afford much more occasion of ridicule to the 
 Moors. For, what are all the wars of religion, which have 
 prevailed in this polite and knowing part of the world ? 
 They are certainly more absurd than the Moorish civil 
 wars. The difference of complexion is a sensible and a 
 real difference : But the controversy about an article of 
 faith, which is utterly absured and unintelligible, is not 
 a difference in sentiment, but in a few phrases and ex- 
 pressions, which one party accepts of, without understand- 
 ing them ; and the other refuses in the same manner. 
 
 Real factions may be divided into those from interest^ 
 from principle, and from affection. Of all factions, the first 
 are the most reasonable, and the most excusable. Where 
 two orders of men, such as the nobles and people, have a 
 distinct authority in a government, not very accurately 
 balanced and modelled, they naturally follow a distinct in- 
 terest ; nor can we reasonably expect a different conduct, 
 considering that degree of selfishness implanted in human 
 nature. It requires great skill in a legislator to prevent 
 such parties ; and many philosophers are of opinion, that 
 this secret, like the grand elixir ', or perpetual motion, may 
 amuse men in theory, but can never possibly be reduced to 
 practice. In despotic governments, indeed, factions often 
 do not appear ; but they are not the less real ; or rather, 
 they are more real and more pernicious, upon that very 
 account. The distinct orders of men, nobles and people, 
 soldiers and merchants, have all a distinct interest ; but 
 the more powerful oppresses the weaker with impunity, 
 and without resistance ; which begets a seeming tranquil- 
 lity in such governments. 
 
 There has been an attempt in England to divide the 
 landed and trading part of the nation ; but without success. 
 The interests of these two bodies are not really distinct,
 
 £4 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 and never will be so, till our public debts increase to such a 
 degree, a? to become altogether oppressive and intolerable. 
 
 Parties from principle, especially abstract speculative 
 principle, are known only to modern times, and are, per- 
 haps, die most extraordinary and unaccountable phenome- 
 non that has yet appeared in human affairs Where dif- 
 ferent principles beget a contrariety of conduct, which is 
 the case with all different political principles, the matter 
 may be more easily explained. A man, who esteems the 
 true right of government to lie in one man, or one family, 
 cannot easily agree with his fellow-citizen, who thinks that 
 another man or family is possessed of this right. Each 
 naturally wishes that right may take place, according to 
 his own notions of it. But where the difference of prin- 
 ciple is attended with no contrariety of action, but every 
 one may follow his own way, without interfering with his 
 neighbour, as happens in all religious controversies ; what 
 madness, what fury, can beget such an unhappy and such 
 fatal divisions ? 
 
 Two men travelling on the highway, the one east, the 
 other west, can easily pass each other, if the way be broad 
 enough : but two men, reasoning upon opposite principles 
 of religion, cannot so easily pass, without shocking; though 
 one should think, that the way were also, in that case, suf- 
 ficiently broad, and that each might proceed, without in- 
 terruption, in his own course. But such is the nature of 
 the human mind, that it always lays hold on every mind 
 that approaches it ; and as it is wonderfully fortified by an 
 unanimity of sentiments, so it is shocked and disturbed by 
 any contrariety. Hence the eagerness which most peo- 
 ple discover in a dispute ; and hence their impatience of 
 opposition, even iu the most speculative and indifferent 
 opinions.
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 55 
 
 This principle, however frivolous it may appear, seems 
 to have been the origin of all religious wars and divisions. 
 But as this principle is universal in human nature, its ef- 
 fects would not have been confined to one age, and to one 
 sect of religion, did it not there concur with other more 
 accidental causes, which raise it to such a height, as to 
 produce the greatest misery and devastation. Most reli- 
 gions of the ancient world arose in the unknown ages of 
 government, when men were as yet barbarous and unin- 
 structed, and the prince, as well as peasant, was disposed 
 to receive, with implicit faith, every pious tale or fiction, 
 which was offered him. The magistrate embraced the 
 religion of the people, and, entering cordially into the care 
 of sacred matters, naturally acquired an authority in them, 
 and united the ecclesiastical with the civil power. But 
 the Christian religion arising, while principles directly op- 
 posite to it wore firmly established in the polite part of the 
 world, who despised the nation that first broached this no- 
 velty ; no wonder, that, in such circumstances, it was but 
 little countenanced by the civil magistrate, and that the 
 priesthood was allowed to engross all the authority in the 
 new sect. So bad a use did they make of this power, even 
 in those early times, that the primitive persecutions may, 
 perhaps, in part. a , be ascribed to the violence instilled by 
 them into their followers. 
 
 And the same principles of priestly government conti- 
 nuing, after Christianity became tne established religion ; 
 they have engendered a spirit of persecution, which has 
 ever since been the poison of human society, and the 
 source of the most inveterate factions in every government. 
 Such divisions, therefore, on the part of the people, may 
 
 a See Note [O c ]
 
 5G ESSAY VIII. 
 
 justly be esteemed factions of principle ; but, on the part 
 of the priests, who are the prime movers, they are really 
 factions of interest. 
 
 There is another cause (beside the authority of the 
 
 priests, and the separation of the ecclesiastical and civil 
 
 powers) which has contributed to render Christendom the 
 
 scene of religious wars and divisions. Religions that 
 
 arise in ages totally ignorant and barbarous, consist mostly 
 
 of traditional tales and fictions, which may be different in 
 
 every sect, without being contrary to each other : and even 
 
 when they are contrary, every one adheres to the tradition 
 
 of his own sect, without much reasoning or disputation. 
 
 But as philosophy was widely spread over the world at 
 
 the time when Christianity arose, the teachers of the new 
 
 sect were obliged to form a system of speculative opinions ; 
 
 to divide, with some accuracy, their articles of faith ; and 
 
 to explain, comment, confute, and defend, with all the 
 
 subtlety of argument and science. Hence naturally arose 
 
 keenness in dispute, when the Christian religion came to 
 
 be split into new divisions and heresies : And this keenness 
 
 assisted the priests in their policy, of begetting a mutual 
 
 hatred and antipathy among their deluded followers. Sects 
 
 of philosophy, in the ancient world, were more zealous 
 
 than parties of religion \ but, in modern times, parties of 
 
 religion are more furious and enraged than the most cruel 
 
 factions that ever arose from interest and ambition. 
 
 I have mentioned parties from affection as a kindofmzZ 
 parties, beside those from interest and principle. By par- 
 ties from affection, 1 understand those which are founded 
 on the different attachments of men towards particular fa- 
 milies and persons, whom they desire to rule over them. 
 These factions are often very violent ; though, I must own, 
 it may seem unaccountable, that men should attach them-
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 57 
 
 selves so strongly to persons, with whom they are nowise 
 acquainted, whom perhaps they never saw, and from whom 
 they never received, nor can ever hope for, any favour. 
 Yet this we often find to be the case, and even with men, 
 who, on other occasions, discover no great generosity of 
 spirit, nor are found to be easily transported by friendship 
 beyond their own interest. We are apt to think the rela- 
 tion between us and our sovereign very close and intimate. 
 The splendour of majesty and power bestows an impor- 
 tance on the fortunes even of a single person. And when 
 a man's good nature does not give him this imaginary in- 
 terest, his ill nature will, from spite and opposition to per- 
 sons whose sentiments are different from his own.
 
 ESSAY IX, 
 
 OF THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 
 
 VV ere the British government proposed as a subject of 
 speculation, one would immediately perceive in it a source 
 of division and party, which it would be almost impossible 
 for it, under any administration, to avoid. The just ba- 
 lance between the republican and monarchical part of our 
 constitution is really, in itself, so extremely delicate and 
 uncertain, that, when joined to men's passions and preju- 
 dices, it is impossible but different opinions must arise con- 
 cerning it, even among persons of the best understanding. 
 Those of mild tempers, who love peace and order, and de- 
 test sedition and civil wars, will always entertain more fa- 
 vourable sentiments of monarchy than men of bold and ge- 
 nerous spirits, who are passionate lovers of liberty, and 
 think no evil comparable to subjection and slavery. And 
 though all reasonable men agree in general to preserve our 
 mixed government ; yet, when they come to particulars, 
 some will incline to trust greater powers to the crown, to 
 bestow on it more influence, and to guard against its en- 
 croachments with less caution, than others who are terri- 
 fied at the most distant approaches of tyranny and despo- 
 tic power. Thus arc there parties of Principle involved 
 in the very nature of our constitution, which may proper- 
 ly enough be denominated those of Court and Country.
 
 THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 59 
 
 The strength and violence of each of these parties will 
 much depend upon the particular administration. An ad- 
 ministration may be so bad, as to throw a great majority 
 into the opposition ; as a good administration will recon- 
 cile to the court many of the most passionate lovers of li- 
 berty. But however the nation may fluctuate between 
 them, the parties themselves will always subsist, so long as 
 we are governed by a limited monarchy. 
 
 But, besides this difference of I rinciple, those parties 
 are very much fomented by a difference of Interest, 
 without which they could scarcely ever be dangerous or 
 violent. The crown will naturally bestow all trust and 
 power upon those, whose principles, real or pretended, are 
 most favourable to monarchical government ; and this 
 temptation wdl naturally engage them to go greater lengths 
 than their principles would otherwise carry them. Their 
 antagonists, who are disappointed in their ambitious aims, 
 throw themselves into the party whose sentiments incline 
 them to be most jealous of royal power, and naturally car- 
 ry those sentiments to a greater height than sound poli- 
 tics will justify. Thus Court and Country, which are the 
 genuine offspring of the British government, are a kind of 
 mixed parties, and are influenced both by principle and by 
 interest. The heads of the factions are commonly most 
 governed by the latter motive ; the inferior members of 
 them by the former. 
 
 As to ef^efiinstjrfll partly we mav observe, that, in all 
 ages of the world, priests have been enemies to lib erty ; r 
 and it is certain, that this steady conduct of theirs must 
 have been fmjpdpfl pn, fixed r easons Q f interest and ambi- ^) 
 tion. Liberty of thinking, and of expressing our thoughts, 
 is always fatal to priestly power, and to those pious frauds 
 on which it is commonly founded ; and, by an infallible
 
 60 ESSAY IX. 
 
 connection, which prevails among all kinds of liberty, this 
 privilege can never be enjoyed, at least has never yet been 
 enjoyed, but in a free government. Hence it must hap- 
 pen, in such a constitution as that of Great Britain, that 
 the establishe d clergy, wJoik-lhings .aj^Jn^biuJLrjaJuj^L-li: 
 tuation, will always be of the Court-party i_as, on the con- 
 trary, dissenters of all kinds will be of Sh&~£ou nt ty-party ; 
 since they can never hope for that toleration, which they 
 stand in need of, but by means of our free government. 
 All princes that have aimed at despotic power have known 
 of what importance it was to gain the established clergy ; 
 as the clergy, on their part, have shewn a great facility in 
 entering into the views of such princes a . Gustavus Yasa 
 was, perhaps, the only ambitious monarch that ever de- 
 pressed the church, at the same time that he discouraged 
 liberty. But the exorbitant power of the bishops in Swe- 
 den, who, at that time, over-topped the crown itself, to- 
 gether with their attachment to a foreign family, was the 
 reason of his embracing such an unusual system of politics. 
 This observation, concerning the propensity of priests 
 to the government of a single person, is not true with re- 
 gard to one sect only. The Presbyterian and Calvinistic 
 clergy in Holland were professed friends to the family of 
 Orange ; as the Arminians 9 who were esteemed heretics, 
 were of the Louvestein faction, and zealous for liberty. 
 But if a prince have the choice of both, it is easy to see 
 that he will prefer the episcopal to the presbyterian form 
 of government, both because of the greater affinity between 
 monarchy and episcopacy, and because of the facility which 
 
 r ' Jud.L-i sibi ipsi regos imposuere ; qui mobilitate vulgi expulsi. resump- 
 ta per arma dominatione, fugas civium, labium eversioncs, fratrum, con- 
 ui'->um, parentum neces aliaque solita regibus ausi, supcrstitionem fovebant ; 
 jj ua honor saccrdoti, iirmamentuni notuntise, as^umebatur. Tacit. Hist. lib. v .
 
 THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. Gi 
 
 he will find, in such a government, of ruling the clergy by 
 means of their ecclesiastical superiors a . 
 
 If we consider the first rise of parties in England, during 
 the great rebellion, we shall observe that it was conform- 
 able to this general theory, and that the species of govern- 
 ment gave birth to them by a regular and infallible opera- 
 tion. The English constitution, before that period, had 
 lain in a kind of confusion ; yet so as that the subjects 
 possessed many noble privileges, which, though not exact- 
 ly bounded and secured by law, were universally deemed, 
 from long possession, to belong 1 to them as their birth- 
 right. An ambitious, or rather a misguided, prince arose, )y*^ 
 who deemed all these privileges to be concessions of his 
 predecessors, revocable at pleasure ; and, in prosecution 
 of this principle, he openly acted in violation of liberty 
 during the course of several years. Necessity, at last, con- 
 strained him to call a parliament : The spirit of liberty 
 arose and spread itself: The prince, being without any 
 support, was obliged to grant every thing required of him: 
 And his enemies, jealous and implacable, set no bound: to 
 their pretensions. Here, then, began those contests, in 
 which it was no wonder that men of that age were divided 
 into different parties -, since, even at this dby, the impar- 
 tial are at a loss to decide concerning the ju:.t:ce of the 
 quarrel. The pretensions of the parliament, if yielded to, 
 broke the balance oi *he constitution, bv rendering the 
 government almost entirely republican. If not yielded to, 
 the nation was, perhaps, still in danger of absolute power, 
 from the settled principles and inveterate habits of the 
 King, which had plainly appeared in every concession "that 
 
 * Populi imperium juxt.i I.bertatem : paucorum dominatio rcgia; libidini 
 propior est, Ta,cii. Ann. lib, vi.
 
 (iii essay is:,- 
 
 he had been constrained to make to his people. In tbi:S 
 question, so delicate and uncertain, men naturally fell to 
 the side which was most conformable to their usual prin- 
 ciples; and the more passionate favourers of monarchv 
 declared for the king, as the zealous friends of liberty sided 
 with the parliament. The hopes of success being nearly 
 equal on both sides, interest had no general influence in 
 this contest : So that Round-hlau and Cavalier were 
 merely parties of principle ; neither of which disowned 
 either monarchy or liberty ; but the former party inclined 
 most to the republican part of our government, the latter 
 to the monarchical. In this respect, they may be consi- 
 dered as court and country party, inflamed into a civil 
 war, by an unhappy concurrence of circumstances, and by 
 the turbulent spirit of the age. The commonwealth's men, 
 and the partisans of absolute power, lay concealed in both 
 parties, and formed but an inconsiderable part of them. 
 
 The clergy had concurred with the king's arbitrary de- 
 signs ; and, in return, were allowed to persecute their ad- 
 versaries, whom they called heretics and schismatics. The 
 established clergy were episcopal ; the non-conformists 
 presbyterian : So that all things concurred to throw the 
 former, without reserve, into the king's party, and the lat- 
 ter into that of the parliament. 
 
 Every one knows the event of this quarrel ; fatal to the 
 king first, to the parliament afterwards. After many con- 
 fusions and revolutions, the royal family was at last restored, 
 and the ancient government re-established. Charles II. 
 was not made wiser by the example of his lather, but pro- 
 secuted the same measures, though, at first, with more 
 secrecy and caution. New parties arose, under the ap- 
 pellation of Whig and To?y, which have continued ever 
 since to confound and distract our government. To de-
 
 THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. G3 
 
 termine the nature of these parties is perhaps one of the 
 most difficult problems that can be met with, and is a 
 proof that history may contain questions as uncertain as 
 any to be found in the most abstract sciences. We have 
 seen the conduct of the two parties, during the course of 
 seventy years, in a vast variety of circumstances, possessed 
 of power, and deprived of it, during peace, and during 
 war : Persons, who profess themselves of one side or other, 
 we meet with every hour, in company, in our pleasures, in 
 our serious occupations : We ourselves are constrained, in. 
 a manner, to take party ; and living in a country of the 
 highest liberty, every one may openly declare all his sen- 
 timents and opinions : Yet are we at a loss to tell the na- 
 ture, pretensions, and principles, of the different tactions. 
 
 When we compare the parties of Whig and Tory with 
 those of Rounu-head and Cavalier, the most obvious 
 difference that appears between them consists in the prin- 
 ciples of passive obedience, and indefeasible right, which 
 were but little heard of among the Cavaliers, 'but became 
 the universal doctrine, and were esteemed the true charac- 
 teristic of a Tory. Were these principles pushed into their 
 most obvious consequences, they imply a formal renuncia- 
 tion of all our liberties, and an avowal of absolute mo- 
 narchy ; since nothing can be a greater absurdity than a 
 limited power, which mu&t not be resisted, even when it ex- 
 ceeds its limitations. But, as the most rational principles 
 are often but a weak counterpoise to passion, it is no won- 
 der that these absurd principles were found too weak for 
 that effect. The Tories, as men, were enemies to oppres- 
 sion ; and also as Englishmen, they were enemies to arbi- 
 trary power. Their zeal for liberty was, perhaps, less fer- 
 vent than that of their antagonists, but was sufficient te- 
 
 *
 
 b'i ESSAY IX. 
 
 make them forget all their general principles, when they 
 saw themselves openly threatened with a subversion of the 
 ancient government. From these sentiments arose the 
 revolution ; an event of mighty consequence, and the firm- 
 est foundation of British liberty. The conduct of the 
 Tories during that event, and after it, will afford us a true 
 insight into the nature of that party. 
 
 In the^rs^ place, they appear to have had the genuine 
 sentiments of Britons in their affection for liberty, and in 
 their determined resolution not to sacrifice it to any ab- 
 stract principle whatsoever, or to any imaginary rights of 
 princes. This part of their character might justly have 
 been doubted of before the revolution, from the obvious 
 tendency of their avowed principles, and from their com- 
 pliances with a court, which seemed to make little secret 
 of its arbitrary designs. The revolution shewed them to 
 have been, in this respect, nothing but a genuine court- 
 party, such as might be expected in a British government; 
 that is, Lovers of liberty, but greater lovers of monarchy. 
 It must, however, be confessed, that they carried their mo- 
 narchical principles farther even in practice, but more so in 
 theory, than was, in any degree, consistent with a limited 
 government. 
 
 Secondly, Neither their principles nor affections concur- 
 red, entirely or heartily, with the settlement made at the 
 Revolution, or with that which has since taken place. This 
 part of their character may seem opposite to the former ; 
 since any other settlement, in those circumstances of the 
 nation, must probably have been dangerous, if not fatal to 
 liberty. But the heart of man is made to reconcile contra- 
 dictions ; and this contradiction is not greater than that 
 between passive obedience, and the resistance employed at
 
 THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. H5 
 
 the Revolution. A Tory, therefore, since the Revolution, 
 may be defined in a few words, to be a lover of monarchy, 
 though without abandoning liberty; and a -partisan of the 
 family of Stuart^ 'As a Whic t may be denned to be a lo- 
 ver of liberty, though without renouncing monarchy ,• and a 
 friend to the settlement in the Protestant line. 
 
 These different views, with regard to the settlement of 
 the crown, were accidental, but natural additions to the 
 principles of the court and country parties, which are the 
 genuine divisions in the British government. A passion- 
 ate lover of monarchy is apt to be displeased at any change 
 of the succession ; as savouring too much of a common- 
 wealth : A passionate lover of liberty is apt to think that 
 every part of the government ought to be subordinate to 
 the interests of liberty. 
 
 Some, who will not venture to assert, that the real diffe- 
 rence between Whig and Tory was lost at the Revolution, 
 seem inclined to think, that the difference is now abolished, 
 and that affairs are so far returned to their natural state, 
 that there are at present no other parties among us but 
 court and country ,■ that is, men who, by interest or prin- 
 ciple, are attached either to monarchy or liberty. Tho 
 Tories have been so long obliged to talk in the republican 
 style, that they seem to have made converts of themselves 
 by their hypocrisy, and to have embraced the sentiments, 
 as well as language of their adversaries. There are, how- 
 ever, very considerable remains of that party in England, 
 with all their old prejudices ; and a proof that court and 
 country are not our only parties, is, that almost all the dis^^S- 
 senters side with the court, and the lower clenjv. at leastf ! 
 of the church of England, with the opposition. This may 
 convince us, that some bias still hangs upon our constitu- 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 G6 £SSA\ IX. 
 
 tion, some extrinsic weight, which turns it from its natu- 
 ral course, and causes a confusion in our parties a . 
 
 * Some of the opinions delivered in these Essays, with regard to the pu- 
 blic transactions in the last century, the Author, on more accurate examina- 
 tion, fount! reason to retract in his History of Great Britain. And' as lie 
 would not enslave himself to the systems of either party, neither would he 
 fetter his judgment by his own preconceived opinions and principles ; nor is 
 he ashamed to acknowledge his mistakes. These mistakes were indeed, a' 
 that time, almost universal in this kingdom.
 
 ESSAY X. 
 
 OF SUFERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM.^ 
 
 1 hat the corruption of the best of tilings produces the 'worst, 
 is grown into a maxim, and is commonly proved, among 
 other instances, by the pernicious effects of superstition and 
 enthusiasm, the corruptions of true voli tion. 
 
 These two species of false rengion, though both perni- 
 cious, are yet of a very different, and even of a contrary 
 nature. The mind of man is subject to certain unaccount- 
 able terrors and apprehensions, proceeding either from the 
 unhappy situation of private or public affairs, from ill 
 health, from a gloomy and melancholy disposition, or from 
 the concurrence of all these circumstances. In such a state 
 of mind, infinite unknown evils are dreaded from unknown 
 agents ; and where real objects of terror are wanting, the 
 soul, active to its own prejudice, and fostering its predo- 
 minant inclination, finds imaginary ones, to whose power 
 and malevolence it sets no limits. As these enemies are 
 entirely invisible and unknown, the methods taken to ap- 
 pease them are equally unaccountable, and consist in cere- 
 monies, observances, mortifications, sacrifices, presents, or 
 in any practice, however absurd or frivolous, which either 
 folly or knavery recommends to a blind and terrified cre- 
 dulity. Weakness, fear, melancholy, together with igno- 
 rance, are, therefore, the true sources of Superstition,
 
 OS ESSAY X. 
 
 But the mind of man is also subject to an unaccount- 
 able elevation and presumption, arising from prosperous 
 success, from luxuriant health, from strong spirits, or from 
 a bold and confident disposition. In such a state of mind, 
 the imagination swells with great, but confused conceptions, 
 to which no sublunary beauties or enjoyments can corre- 
 spond. Every thing mortal and perishable vanishes as un- 
 worthy of attention. And a full range is given to the fan- 
 cy in the invisible region?, or world of Spirits, where the 
 soul is at liberty to indulge itself in every imagination, 
 which may best suit its present taste and disposition. — 
 Hence arise raptures, transports, and surprising flights of 
 fancy ; and confidence and presumption still increasing, 
 these raptures, being altogether unaccountable, and seem- 
 ing quite beyond the reach of our ordinary faculties, arc 
 attributed to the immediate inspiration of that Divine 
 Being, who is the object of devotion. In a little time, the 
 inspired person comes to regard himself as a distinguished 
 favourite of the Divinity ; and when this frenzy once takes 
 place, which is the summit of enthusiasm, every whimsy is 
 consecrated : Human reason, and P vpn WQ'^l'lyj, nrp P'j !^; 
 ed as fallacious guidj^ : And the fanatic madman delivers 
 himself over, blindly, and without reserve, to the suppo- 
 sed illapses of the spirit, and to inspiration from above. — 
 / Hope, pride, presumption, a warm imagination, together 
 r ^ with ignorance, are, therefore, the true sources of Enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 These two species of false religion might afford occasion 
 to many speculations ; but I shall confine myself, at pre- 
 sent, to a few reflections concerning their different influ- 
 ence on government and society. 
 
 My jirst reflection is, that superstition is favourable to 
 priestly jpoxi'er, and enthusiasm not less or rather more eon- 
 
 ' fc
 
 •yj~ 
 
 OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 6 ( J 
 
 trarij to it, than sound reason and philosophy. As super- 
 stition is founded on fear, sorrow, and a depression of spi- 
 rits; it represents the man to himself in such despicable co- 
 lours, that he appears unworthy, in his own eyes, of ap- 
 proaching the Divine presence, and naturally has recourse 
 to any other person, whose sanctity of life, or, perhaps im- 
 pudence and cunning, have made him be supposed more 
 favoured by the Divinity. To him the superstitious en- 
 trust their devotions : To his care they recommend their 
 prayers, petitions, and sacrifices : And by his means, the}' 
 hope to render their addresses acceptable to their incensed 
 Deity. Hence the origin of Priests, who may justly 
 be regarded as an invention of a timorous and abject su- 
 perstition, which, ever diffident of itself, dares not offer up 
 its own devotions, but ignorantly thinks to recommend it- 
 self to the Divinity, by the mediation of his supposed 
 friends and servants. As superstition is a considerable in- 
 gredient in almost all religions, even the most fanatical ; 
 there being nothing but philosophy able entirely to con- 
 quer these unaccountable terrors j hence it proceeds, that 
 in almost every sect of religion there are priests to be found : 
 But the stronger mixture there is of superstition, the high- 
 er is the authority of the priesthood. 
 
 On the other hand, it may be observed, that all enthu- 
 siasts have been free from the yoke of ecclesiastics, and 
 have expressed great independence in their devotiojij with 
 a contempt of forms, ceremonies, and traditions^ The 
 Quakers are the most egregious, though, at the same time, 
 the most innocent enthusiasts that have yet been known ; 
 and are perhaps the only sect that have never admitted 
 priests among them. The Independents, of all the English 
 sectaries, approach nearest to the Quakers in fanaticism, 
 and in their freedom from priestly bondage. The Pres-
 
 70 ESSAY X, 
 
 byterians follow after, at an equal distance, in both parti- 
 culars. In short, this observation is founded in experience ; 
 and will also appear to be founded in reason, if we consi- 
 der, that, as enthusiasm arises from a presumptuous pride 
 and confidence, it thinks itself sufficiently qualified to ap- 
 proach the Divinity, without any human mediator. Its 
 rapturous devotions are so fervent, that it even imagines 
 itself actually to approach him by the way of contemplation 
 and inward converse ; which makes it neglect all those out- 
 ward ceremonies and observances, to which the assistance 
 of the priests appears so requisite in the eyes of their su- 
 perstitious votaries. Thd(fanatic\onsecrates himself, and 
 bestows on his own person a sacred character, much supe- 
 rior to what forms and ceremonious institutions can confer 
 on any other. 
 
 My second reflection with regard to these species of false 
 religion is, that religions, which partake of enthusiasm , are, 
 en their Jirst rise, more furious and violent than those which 
 partake of superstition ,• but in a little time become more 
 gentle and moderate. The violence of this species of reli- 
 gion, when excited by novelty, and animated by opposi- 
 tion, appears from numberless instances; of the Anabap- 
 tists in Germany, the Camisars in France, the Levellers 
 and other fanatics in England, and the Covenanters in Scot- 
 land. Enthusiasm being founded on strong spirits, and a 
 presumptuous boldness of character, it naturally begets the 
 most extreme resolutions ; especially after it rises to that 
 height ns to inspire the deluded fanatic with the opinion oi 
 divine illuminations, and with a contempt lor the common 
 rules of reason, morality, and prudence. 
 
 It is thus enthusiasm produces the most cruel disorders 
 m human society ; but its fury is like that oi" thunder and 
 tempest, which exhaust themselves in a little time, and
 
 OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 71 
 
 leave the air more calm and serene than before. When 
 the first fire of enthusiasm is spent, men naturally, in all 
 fanatical sects, sink into the greatest remissness and cool- 
 ness in sacred matters ; there being nobody of men among 
 them, endowed with sufficient authority, whose interest is 
 concerned to support the religious spirit : No rites, no ce- 
 remonies, no holy observances, which may enter into the 
 common train of life, and preserve the sacred principles 
 from oblivion. Superstition, on the contrary, steals in gra- 
 dually and insensibly ; renders men tame and submissive ; 
 u acceptable to the magistrate, and seems inoffensive to the 
 people : Till at last the priest, having firmly established his 
 authority, becomes the tyrant and disturber of human so- 
 ciety, by his endless contentions, persecutions, and reli- 
 gious wars. How smoothly did the Romish church ad- 
 vance in her acquisition of power? But into what dismal 
 convulsions did she throw all Europe, in order to main- 
 tain it ? On the other hand, our sectaries, who were for- 
 merly such dangerous bigots, are now become very free 
 reasoners ; and the Quakers seem to approach nearly the 
 only regular body of Deists in the universe, the literati) or 
 the disciples of Confucius in China. 3 
 
 My third observation on this head is, that superstition 
 is an enemy to civil liberty, and enthusiasm a friend to it. 
 As superstition groans under the dominion of priests, and 
 enthusiasm is destructive of all ecclesiastical power, this 
 sufficiently accounts for the present observation. Not to 
 mention, that enthusiasm, being the infirmity of bold and 
 ambitious tempers, is naturally accompanied with a spirit 
 of liberty ; as superstition, on the contrary, renders men 
 tame and abject, and fits them for slavery. We learn from 
 
 " The Chinese literati have no priests or ecclesiastical establishment
 
 72' ESSAY X. 
 
 English history, that, during the civil wars, the Indepen- 
 dents and Deists, though the most opposite in their reli- 
 gious principles j yet were united in their political ones, 
 and were alike passionate for a commonwealth. And since 
 the origin of Whig and Tory, the leaders of the Whigs have 
 either been Deists or professed Latitudinarians in their 
 principles -, that is, friends to toleration, and indifferent to 
 any particular sect of Christians : While the sectaries, who 
 have all a strong tincture of enthusiasm, have always, with- 
 out exception, concurred with that party, in defence of ci- 
 vil liberty. The resemblance in their superstitions long 
 united the High-Church Tories, and the Roman Catholics, 
 in support of prerogative and kingly power ; though ex- 
 perience of the tolerating spirit of the Whigs seems of late 
 to have reconciled the Catholics to that party. 
 
 The Molinists and Janscnists in France have a thousand 
 unintelligible disputes, which are not worthy the reflection 
 of a man of sense : But what principally distinguishes these 
 two sects, and alone merits attention, is the different spi- 
 rit of their religion. The Molinists, conducted by the Je- 
 suits, are great friends to superstition, rigid observers of 
 external forms and ceremonies, and devoted to the autho- 
 rity of the priests, and to tradition. The Jansenists are 
 enthusiasts, and zealous promoters of the passionate devo- 
 tion, and of the inward life; little influenced by authority; 
 and, in a word, but half Catholics. The consequences are 
 exactly conformable to the foregoing reasoning. The Je- 
 suits are the tyrants of the people, and" the slaves of the 
 court : And the Ja?isenisls preserve alive the small sparks 
 of the love of liberty which are to be found in the French 
 nation.
 
 ESSAY XT. 
 
 OF THE DIGNITY Olt MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE, 
 
 1 here are certain sects, which secretly form themselves 
 in the learned world, as well as factions in the political j 
 and though sometimes they come not to an open rupture, 
 they give a different turn to the ways of thinking of those 
 who have taken part on cither side. The most remark- 
 able of this kind are the sects founded on the different 
 sentiments with regard to the dignity of human nature : 
 which is a point that seems to have divided philosophers 
 and poets, as well as divines, from the beginning of the 
 world to this day. Some exalt our species to the skies, and 
 represent man as a kind of human demigod, who derives 
 his origin from heaven, and retains evident marks of his 
 lineage and descent. Others insist upon the blind sides 
 of human nature, and can discover nothing, except vanity, 
 in which man surpasses the other animals, whom he affects 
 so much to despise. If an author possess the talent of rhe- 
 toric and declamation, he commonly takes part with the 
 former : If his turn lie towards irony and ridicule, he na- 
 turally throws himself into the other extreme. 
 
 I am far from thinking, that all those, who have depre- 
 ciated our species, have been enemies to virtue, and have 
 exposed the frailties of their fellow-creatures with any bad 
 intention. On the contrarv, I am sensible that a delicate
 
 i i- ESSAY XI. 
 
 sense of morals, especially when attended with a splene- 
 tic temper, is apt to give a man a disgust of the world, and 
 to make him consider the common course of human affairs 
 with too much indignation. I must, however, be of opi- 
 nion, that the sentiments of those, who are inclined to 
 think favourably of mankind, are more advantageous to 
 virtue, than the contrary principles, which give^us a mean 
 opinion of our nature. When a man is prepossessed with 
 a high notion of his rank and character in the creation, he 
 will naturally endeavour to act up to it, and will scorn to 
 do a base or vicious action, which might sink him below 
 that figure which he makes in his own imagination. Ac- 
 cordingly we find, that all our polite and fashionable mora- 
 lists insist upon this topic, and endeavour to represent vice 
 unworthy of man, as well as odious in itself. 
 
 We find few disputes, that are not founded on some 
 ambiguity in the expression ; and I am persuaded, that 
 the present dispute, concerning the dignity or meanness 
 of human nature, is not more exempt from it than any 
 other. It may, therefore, be worth while to consider, what 
 is real, and what is only verbal, in this controversy. 
 
 That there is a natural difference between merit and de- 
 merit, virtue and vice, wisdom and folly, no reasonable 
 man will deny : Yet it is evident, that in affixing the term, 
 which denotes either our approbation or blame, we are com- 
 monly more influenced by comparison than by any fixed 
 unalterable standard in the nature of things. In like man- 
 ner, quantity, and extension, and bulk, are by every one 
 acknowledged to be real things : But when we call any 
 animal great or little, we always form a secret comparison 
 between that animal and others of the same species; and 
 it is that comparison which regulates our judgment con- 
 cerning its greatness. A dog and a horse may be of the
 
 DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. /5 
 
 very same size, while the one is admired for the greatness 
 of its bulk, and the other for the smallness. When I am 
 present, therefore, at any dispute, I always consider with 
 myself, whether it be a question of comparison or not that 
 is the subject of the controversy ; and if it be,whether the 
 disputants compare the same objects together, or talk of 
 things that arc widely different. 
 
 In forming our notions of human nature, we are apt 
 to make a comparison between men and animals, the only 
 creatures endowed with thought that fall under our senses. 
 Certainly this comparison is favourable to mankind. On 
 the one hand, we see a creature, whose thoughts are not 
 limited by any narrow bounds, either of place or time ; 
 who carries his researches into the most distant regions of 
 this globe, and beyond this globe, to the planets and hea- 
 venly bodies ; looks backward to consider the first origin, at 
 least the history of the human race; casts his eye forward 
 to see the influence of his actions upon posterity, and the 
 judgments which will be formed of his character a thou- 
 sand years hence ; a creature, who traces causes and ef- 
 fects to a great length and intricacy ; extracts general prin- 
 ciples from particular appearances ; improves upon his dis- 
 coveries; corrects his mistakes ; and makes his very errors 
 profitable. On the other hand, we are presented with a 
 creature the very reverse of this ; limited in its observa- 
 tions and reasonings to a few sensible objects which sur- 
 round it } without curiosity, without foresight ; blindly 
 conducted by instinct, and attaining, in a short time, its 
 utmost perfection, beyond which it is never able to advance 
 a single step. What a wide difference is there between 
 these creatures ! And how exalted a notion must we en- 
 tertain of the former, in comparison of the latter ! 
 
 I here are two means commonly employed to destroy
 
 70 ESSAY XI. 
 
 this conclusion : First) By making an unfair representa- 
 tion of the case, and insisting only upon the weaknesses of 
 human nature. And, secondly. By forming a new and se- 
 cret comparison between man and beings of the most per- 
 fect wisdom. Among the other excellencies of man, this 
 is one, that he can form an idea of perfections much be- 
 yond what he has experience of in himself ; and is not li- 
 mited in his conception of wisdom and virtue. He can 
 easily exalt his notions, and conceive a degree of know- 
 ledge, which, when compared to his own, will make the 
 latter appear very contemptible, and will cause the diffe- 
 rence between that and the sagacity of animals, in a man- 
 ner, to disappear and vanish. Now this being a point, in 
 which all the world is agreed, that human understanding 
 falls infinitely short of perfect wisdom j it is proper wc 
 should know when this comparison takes place, that we 
 may not dispute where there is no real difference in our sen- 
 timents. Man falls much more short of perfect wisdom, and 
 even of his own ideas of perfect wisdom, than animals do 
 of man ; yet the latter difference is so considerable, that 
 nothing but a comparison with the former can make it ap- 
 pear of little moment. 
 
 It is also usual to compare one man with another ; and 
 finding very few whom we can call nisc or virtuous, wcare 
 apt to entertain a contemptible notion of our species in 
 general. That we may be sensible of the fallacy of this 
 way of reasoning, we may observe, that the honourable ap- 
 pellations of wise and virtuous are not annexed to any 
 particular degree of those qualities of xcisdom and virtue ; 
 but arise altogether from the comparison we make between 
 line man and another. When we find a man, who arrives 
 at such a pitcii of wisdom as is very uncommon, we pro- 
 nounce him a wise man : So that to sav, there are few
 
 DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OE HUMAN NATURE. 77 
 
 wise men in the world, is really to say nothing ; since it is 
 only by their scarcity that they merit that appellation. 
 Were the lowest of our species as wise as Tully, or Lord 
 Bacon, we should still have reason to say that there are few 
 wise men. For in that case we should exalt our notions 
 of wisdom, and should not pay a singular honour to any 
 one, who was not singularly distinguished by his talents. 
 In like manner, I have heard it observed by thoughtless 
 people, that there are few women possessed of beauty, in 
 comparison of those who want it ; not considering, that 
 we bestow the epithet of beautiful only on such as possess 
 a degree of beauty that is common to them with a few. 
 The same degree of beauty in a woman is called deformi- 
 ty, which is treated as real beauty in one of our sex. 
 
 As it is usual, in forming a notion of our species, to 
 compare it with the other species above or below it, or to 
 compare the individuals of the species among themselves ; 
 so we often compare together the different motives or ac- 
 tuating principles of human nature, in order to regulate 
 our judgment concerning it. And, indeed, this is the on- 
 ly kind of comparison which is worth our attention, or de- 
 cides any thing in the present question. Were our selfish 
 and vicious principles so much predominant above our so- 
 cial and virtuous, as is asserted by some philosophers, we 
 ought undoubtedly to entertain a contemptible notion of 
 human nature. 
 
 There is much of a dispute of words in all this contro- 
 versy. When a man denies the sincerity of all public 
 spirit or affection to a country and community, I am at a 
 loss what to think of him. Perhaps he never felt this pas- 
 sion in so clear and distinct a manner as to remove all his 
 doubts concerning its force and reality. But when he pro- 
 ceeds afterwards to reject all private friendship, if no in-
 
 78 ESSAY XI. 
 
 tcrest or self-love intermix itself; I am then confident that 
 he abuses terms, and confounds the ideas of things j since 
 it is impossible for any one to be so selfish, or rather so 
 stupid, as to make no difference between one man and 
 another, and give no preference to qualities, which engage 
 his approbation and esteem. Is he also, say I, as insensi- 
 ble to anger as he pretends to be to friendship ? And does 
 injury and wrong no more affect him than kindness or be- 
 nefits ? Impossible: He does not know himself: He 
 lias forgotten the movements of his heart ; or rather, he 
 makes use of a different language from the rest of his 
 countrymen, and calls not things by their proper names. 
 What say you of natural affection ? (I subjoin) Is that al- 
 so a species of self-love? Yes: All is self-love. Your 
 children are loved only because they are yours : Your 
 friend for a like reason : And your country engages you 
 only so far as it has a connection with yourself: Were the 
 idea of self removed, nothing would affect you : You 
 would be altogether unactivc and insensible : Or, if you 
 ever give yourself any movement, it would only be from 
 vanity, and a desire of fame and reputation to this same 
 self. I am willing, reply I, to receive your interpretation 
 of human actions, provided you admit the facts. That 
 species of self-love, which displays itself in kindness to 
 others, you must allow to have great influence over human 
 actions, and even greater, on many occasions, than that 
 which remains in its original shape and form. For how 
 few are there, having a family, children, and relations, who 
 do not spend more on the maintenance and education of 
 these than on their own pleasures ? This, indeed, you justly 
 observe, may proceed from their self-love, since the pro- 
 sperity of their family and friends is one, or the chief, of 
 their pleasures, a^ well as their chief honour, lie you al-
 
 DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. (.0 
 
 so one of these selfish men, and you are sure of every one's 
 good opinion and good will ; or, not to shock your ears 
 with these expressions, the self-love of every one, and mine 
 among the rest, will then incline us to serve you, and speak 
 well of you. 
 
 In my opinion, there are two things which have led 
 astray those philosophers, that have insisted so much on the 
 selfishness of man. In thefost place, they found, that 
 every act of virtue or friendship was attended with a secret 
 pleasure ; whence they concluded, that friendship and vir- 
 tue could not be disinterested. But the fallacy of this is 
 obvious. The virtuous sentiment or passion produces the 
 pleasure, and does not arise from it. I feel a pleasure in 
 doing good to my h iend, because 1 iove him ; but do not 
 love him for the sake of that pleasure. 
 
 In the second place, it has always been found, that the 
 virtuous are far from being indifferent to praise ; and 
 therefore they have been represented as a set of vain-glo- 
 rious men, who had nothing in view but the applauses of 
 others. But this also is a fallacy. It is very unjust in the 
 world, when they find any tincture of vanity in a laudable 
 action, to depreciate it upon that account, or ascribe it en- 
 tirely to that motive. The case is not the same with va- 
 nity, as with other passions. Where avarice or revenue 
 enters into any seemingly virtuous action, it is difficult for 
 us to determine how far it enters, and it is natural to sup- 
 pose it the sole actuating principle. But vanity is so close- 
 ly allied to virtue, and to love the fame of laudable actions 
 approaches so near the love of laudable actions for their 
 own sake, that these passions are more capable of mixture, 
 than any other kinds of affection ; and it is almost impos- 
 sible to have the latter without some degree of the former. 
 Accordingly, we find, that this passion for glory is always
 
 SO ESSAY XI. 
 
 warped and varied according to the particular taste or dis- 
 position of the mind on which it falls. Nero had the same 
 vanity in -driving a chariot, that Trajan had in governing 
 the empire with justice and ability. To love the glory of 
 virtuous deeds is a sure proof of the love of virtue.
 
 ESSAY XII. 
 
 t)F CIVIL LIBERTY. 
 
 1 hosl who employ their pens on political subjects, free 
 from party-rage, and party-prejudices, cultivate a science, 
 which, of all others, contributes most to public utility, and 
 even to the private satisfaction of those who addict them- 
 selves to the study of it. I am apt, however, to entertain 
 a suspicion, that the world is still too young to fix many 
 general truths in politics which will remain true to the 
 latest posterity. We have not as yet had experience of 
 three thousand years ; so that not only the art of reason- 
 ing is still imperfect in this science, as in all others, but 
 we even want sufficient materials upon which we can rea- 
 son. It is not fully known what degree of refinement, 
 either in virtue or vice, human nature is susceptible of, 
 nor what may be expected of mankind from any great 
 revolution in their education, customs, or principles. Ma- 
 chiavel was certainly a great genius ; but, having confined 
 his study to the furious and tyrannical governments of 
 ancient times, or to the little disorderly principalities of 
 Italy, his reasonings, especially upon monarchical govern- 
 ment, have been found extremely defective j pnd there 
 scarcely is any maxim in his Prince which subsequent ex- 
 perience has not entirely refuted. " A weak prince," says 
 lie, " is incapable of receiving good counsel ; for, if he 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 S-2 ESSAY XII. 
 
 consult with several, he will not be able to choose among 
 their different counsels. If he abandon himself to one, 
 that minister may perhaps have capacity, but he will not 
 long be a minister. He will be sure to dispossess his 
 master, and place himself and his family upon the throne." 
 I mention this, among many instances of the errors of that 
 politician, proceeding, in a great measure, from his having 
 lived in too early an age of the world, to be a good judge 
 of political truth. Almost all the princes of Europe are 
 at present governed by their ministers, and have been so 
 for near two centuries ; and yet no such event has ever 
 happened, or can possibly happen. Sejanus might pro- 
 ject dethroning the Ctesars, but Fleury, though ever so 
 vicious, could not, while in his senses, entertain the least 
 hopes of dispossessing the Bourbons. 
 
 Trade was never esteemed an affair of state till the last 
 century ; and there scarcely is any ancient writer on politics 
 who has made mention of it a . Even the Italians have kept 
 a profound silence with regard to it, though it has now 
 engaged the chief attention, as well of ministers of state 
 as of speculative reasoners. The great opulence, gran- 
 deur, and military achievements of the 4 two maritime 
 powers, seem first to have instructed mankind in the im- 
 portance of an extensive commerce. 
 
 Having therefore intended, in this essay, to make a full 
 comparison of civil liberty and absolute government, and 
 to show the great advantages of the former above the latter ; 
 I began to entertain a suspicion that no man in this age 
 was sufficiently qualified for such an undertaking ; and that 
 whatever any one should advance on that head would, in 
 
 a Xenophon mentions it, but with a doubt if it be of any advantage to a 
 ^tatc. Elli x«\ i,uTOf>« o$i>.i\ ti T-.Ktv, &c. Xt>.\ IIieko.— i'lato totally 
 excludes it from his imaginary republic. De Legibus, lib. iv.
 
 OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 83 
 
 all probability, be refuted by further experience, and be 
 rejected by posterity. Such mighty revolutions have hap- 
 pened in human affairs, and so many events have arisen 
 contrary to the expectation of the ancients, that they are 
 sufficient to beget the suspicion of still further changes. 
 
 It had been observed by the ancients, that all the arts 
 and sciences arose among free nations ; and that the Per- 
 sians and Egyptians, notwithstanding their ease, opulence, 
 and luxury, made but faint efforts towards a relish in those 
 finer pleasures, which were carried to such perfection by 
 the Greeks, amidst continual wars, attended with poverty, 
 and the greatest simplicity of life and manners. It had al- 
 so been observed, that, when the Greeks lost their liberty, 
 though they increased mightily in riches by means of the 
 conquests of Alexander ; yet the arts, from that moment, 
 declined among them, and have never since been able to 
 raise their head in that climate. Learning was transplanted 
 to Rome, the only free nation at that time in the universe ; 
 and having met with so favourable a soil, it made prodi- 
 gious shoots for above a century ; till the decay of liber- 
 ty produced also the decay of letters, and spread a total 
 barbarism over the world. From these two experiments, 
 of which each was double in its kind, and shewed the fall 
 of learning in absolute governments, as well as its rise in 
 popular ones, Longinus thought himself sufficiently justi- 
 fied in asserting, that the arts and sciences could never 
 flourish but in a free government : And in this opinion he 
 has been followed by several eminent writers a in our own 
 country, who either confined their view merely to ancient 
 facts, or entertained too great a partiality in favour of that 
 form of government established amon^ us. 
 
 But what would these writers have said to the instances 
 
 3Xr Addison and Lord Shaftesbury
 
 Si ESSAY XH. 
 
 of modern Rome and Florence? Of which the former car- 
 ried to perfection all the finer arts of sculpture, painting, 
 and music, as well as poetry, though it groaned under tyran- 
 ny, and under the tyranny of priests : While the latter made 
 its chief progress in the arts and sciences after it began to 
 lose its liberty by the usurpation of the family of Medici. 
 Ariosto, Tasso, Galileo, no more than Raphael or Michael 
 An</elo, were not born in republics. And though the 
 Lombard school was famous as well as the Roman, yet the 
 Venetians have had the smallest share in its honours, and 
 seem rather inferior to the other Italians in their genius 
 for the arts and sciences. Rubens established his school at 
 Antwerp, not at Amsterdam. Dresden, not Hamburgh, is 
 the centre of politeness in Germany. 
 
 But the most eminent instance of the flourishing of learn- 
 ing in absolute governments is that of France, which scarce- 
 ly ever enjoyed any established liberty, and yet has car- 
 ried the arts and sciences as near perfection as any other 
 nation. The English are, perhaps, greater philosophers ; 
 the Italians better painters and musicians ; the Romans 
 were greater orators : But the French are the only people, 
 except the Greeks, who have been at once philosophers, 
 poets, orators, historians, painters, architects, sculptors, 
 and musicians. With regard to the stage, they have ex- 
 celled even the Greeks, who far excelled the English. 
 And, in common life, they have, in a great measure, per- 
 fected that art, the most useful and agreeable of any, V Art 
 de Vhre, the art of society and conversation. 
 
 If we consider the state of the sciences and polite arts in 
 our own country, Horace's observation, with regard to the 
 Romans, may in a great measure be applied to the British 
 
 Sed in longum tamen sevum 
 
 Manserunt, hodieque manent vestigia rm
 
 OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 
 
 S.3 
 
 'i 'lie elegance and propriety of style have been very much 
 neglected among us. We have no dictionary of our lan- 
 guage, and scarcely a tolerable grammar. The first polite 
 prose we have was writ by a man who is still alive a . As 
 to Sprat, Locke, and even Temple, they knew too little of 
 the rules of art to be esteemed elegant writers. The prose 
 of Bacon, Harrington, and Milton, is altogether stiff and 
 pedantic, though their sense be excellent. Men, in this 
 country, have been so much occupied in the great disputes 
 of Religion^ Politics^ and Philosophy, that they had no re- 
 lish for the seemingly minute observations of grammar and 
 criticism. And, though this turn of thinking must have 
 considerably improved our sense and our talent of reason- 
 ing, it must be confessed, that even in those sciences above 
 mentioned, we have not any standard-book which we can 
 transmit to posterity : And the utmost we have to boast of 
 are a few essays towards a more just philosophy ; which 
 indeed promise well, but have not as yet reached any de- 
 gree of perfection. 
 
 It has become an established opinion, that commerce 
 can never flourish but in a free government; and this 
 opinion seems to be founded on a longer and larger ex- 
 perience than the foregoing, with regard to the arts and 
 sciences. If we trace commerce in its progress through 
 Tyre, Athens, Syracuse, Carthage, Venice, Florence, 
 Genoa, Antwerp, Holland, England, &c we shall always 
 find it to have fixed its seat in free governments. The 
 three greatest trading towns now in Europe, are London, 
 Amsterdam, and Hamburgh ; all free cities, and Protestant 
 cities j that is, enjoying a double liberty. It must, how- 
 ever, be observed, that the great jealousy entertained of 
 
 Dr Swifr.
 
 86 ESSAY XI [. 
 
 late with regard to the commerce of France, seems to prove 
 that this maxim is no more certain and infallible than the 
 foregoing, and that the subjects of an absolute prince may 
 become our rivals in commerce as well as in learning. 
 
 Durst I deliver my opinion in an affair of so much un- 
 certainty, I would assert, that notwithstanding the efforts 
 of the French, there is something hurtful to commerce in- 
 herent in the very nature of absolute government, and in- 
 separable from it ; though the reason I should assign for 
 this opinion is somewhat different from that which is com- 
 monly insisted on. Private property seems to me almost 
 as secure in a civilized European monarchy as in a repub- 
 lic ; nor is danger much apprehended, in such a govern- 
 ment, from the violence of the sovereign, more than wc 
 commonly dread harm from thunder, or earthquakes, or any 
 accident the most unusual and extraordinary. Avarice, the 
 spur of industry, is so obstinate a passion, and works its 
 way through so many real dangers and difficulties, that it 
 is not likely to be scared by an imaginary danger, which 
 is so small, that it scarcely admits of calculation. Com- 
 merce, therefore, in my opinion, is apt to decay in absolute 
 irovernments, not because it is there less secure, but because 
 it is less honourable. A subordination of rank is absolutely 
 necessary to the support of monarchy. Birth, titlesj and 
 place, must be honoured above industry and riches. And 
 while these notions prevail, all the considerable traders 
 will be tempted to throw up their commerce, in order to 
 purchase some of those employments, to which privileges 
 and honours are annexed. 
 
 Since T am upon this head, of the alterations which time 
 lias produced, or may produce in politics, I must observe, 
 that all kinds of government, free and absolute, seem to 
 have undergone, in modern times, a great change for the
 
 OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 87 
 
 better, with regard both to foreign and domestic manage- 
 ment. The balance of power is a secret in politics, fully 
 known only to the present age ; and I must add, that the 
 internal police of states has also received great improve- 
 ments within the last century. We are informed by Sal- 
 lust, that Catiline's army was much augmented by the ac- 
 cession of the highwaymen about Rome ; though I believe, 
 that all of that profession who are at present dispersed over 
 Europe would not amount to a regiment. la Cicero's, 
 pleadings for Milo, 1 find this argument, among others, 
 made use of to prove that his client had not assassinated 
 Clodius. Had Milo, said he, intended to have killed Clo- 
 dius, he had not attacked him in the day-time, and at such 
 a distance from the city: He had way laid him at night, 
 near the suburbs, where it might have been pretended that 
 he was killed by robbers ; and the frequency of the acci- 
 dent would have favoured the deceit. This is a surprising 
 proof of the loose policy of Rome, and of the number and 
 force of these robbers ; since Clodius a was at that time at- 
 tended by thirty slaves, who were completely armed, and 
 sufficiently accustomed to blood and danger in the frequent 
 tumults excited by that seditious tribune. 
 
 But though all kinds of government be improved in mo- 
 dern times, yet monarchical government seems to have 
 made the greatest advances towards perfection. It may 
 now be affirmed of civilized monarchies, what was former- 
 ly said in praise of republics alone, that they are a govern- 
 ment of Laws, not of Men. They are found susceptible of 
 order, method, and constancy, to a surprising degree. 
 Property is there secure \ industry encouraged ; the arts 
 flourish ; and the prince lives secure among his subjects, 
 
 a Vide Asc. Ted, in Orat. pro Milone.
 
 88 ESSAY XII. 
 
 like a father among his children. There are, perhaps, and 
 have been for two centuries, near two hundred absolute 
 princes, great and small, in Europe ; and allowing twen- 
 ty years to each reign, we may suppose, that there have 
 been in the whole two thousand monarchs or tyrants, as 
 the Greeks would have called them : Yet of these there has 
 not been one, not even Philip II. of Spain, so bad as Ti- 
 berius, Caligula, Nero, or Domitian, who were four in 
 twelve amongst the Roman emperors. It must, however, 
 be confessed, that though monarchical governments have 
 approached nearer to popular ones, in gentleness and sta- 
 bility, they are still inferior. Our modern education and 
 customs instil more humanity and moderation than the an- 
 cient ; but have not as yet been able to overcome entirely 
 the disadvantages of that form of government. 
 
 But here I must beg leave to advance a conjecture, which 
 seems probable, but which posterity alone can fully judge 
 of. I am apt to think, that in monarchical governments 
 there is a source of improvement, and in popular govern- 
 ments a source of degeneracy, which in time will bring 
 these species of civil polity still nearer an equality. The 
 greatest abuses, which arise in France, the most perfect 
 model of pure monarchy, proceed not from the number or 
 weight of the taxes, beyond what are to be met with in free 
 countries ; but from the expensive, unequal, arbitrary, and 
 intricate method of levying them, by which the industry of 
 the poor, especially of the peasants and farmers, is, in a 
 great measure, discouraged, and agriculture rendered a 
 beggarly and slavish employment. But to whose advan- 
 tage do these abuses tend ? If to that of the nobility, they 
 might be esteemed inherent in that form of government ; 
 since the nobility are the true supports of monarchy : and 
 it is natural their interest should be more consulted, in such
 
 OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 39 
 
 a constitution, than that of the people. But the nobility 
 are, in reality, the chief losers by this oppression ; since it 
 ruins their estates, and beggars their tenants. The only 
 gainers by it are the Financiers ; a race of men rather o- 
 dious to the nobility and the whole kingdom. If a prince 
 or minister, therefore, should arise, endowed with suffi- 
 cient discernment to know his own and the public interest, 
 and with sufficient force of mind to break through ancient 
 customs, we might expect to see these abuses remedied ; 
 in which case the difference between that absolute govern- 
 ment and our free one would not appear so considerable 
 as at present. 
 
 The source of degeneracy, which may be remarked in 
 free governments, consiscs in the practice of contracting 
 debt, and mortgaging the public revenues, by which taxes 
 may, in time, become altogether intolerable, and all the 
 property of the state be brought into the hands of the pu- 
 blic. This practice is of modern date. The Athenians, 
 though governed by a republic, paid near two hundred per 
 cent, for those sums of money, which any emergence made 
 it necessary for them to borrow ; as we learn from Xeno- 
 phon. a Among the moderns, the Dutch first introduced 
 the practice of borrowing great sums at low interest, and 
 have well nigh ruined themselves by it. Absolute princes 
 have also contracted debt ; but as an absolute prince may 
 make a bankruptcy when he pleases, his people can ne- 
 ver be oppressed by his debts. In popular governments, 
 the people, and chiefly those who have the highest offices, 
 being commonly the public credftors, it is difficult for the 
 
 * Kt>h7(v Sid7r' ovSimc av o-jtu r.x>.r,y -nrrfxifTO dc-rip a<p ov at-rpo'iX-s-^s-;, 
 ,ff t»v ufop/xnv — ol Si yi T\aa-ot ABr^xiuv fkiiovx >.«J,ovt«j y.xt v.ixijtovyi otx 
 vv tictviyxotru, cl yap ^vav TrpCTiXicaiTi;, tyyv; Svotv /zvxiv rpoanSov i%v<r 
 =— ■> <T«xi< rxi evffomixv a<rfeckttr<x.TCv n nthv^oimrciroi uvat. 3EN\ no- 
 
 roi.
 
 90 ESSAY Xli. 
 
 state to make use of this remedy, which, however it maj 
 sometimes be necessary, is always cruel and barbarous. 
 This, therefore, seems to be an inconvenience, which near- 
 ly threatens all free governments ; especially our own, at 
 the present juncture of affairs. And what a strong motive 
 is this, to increase our frugality of public money; lest, for 
 want of it, we be reduced, by the multiplicity of taxes, or 
 what is worse, by our public impotence and inability for 
 defence, to curse our very liberty, and wish ourselves in 
 the same state of servitude with all the nations that sur- 
 round us ?
 
 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 OF ELOQUENCE. 
 
 I hose who consider the periods and revolutions of hu- 
 man kind, as represented in history, are entertained with 
 a spectacle full of pleasure and variety, and see with sur- 
 prise, the manners, customs and opinions of the same spe- 
 cies susceptible of such prodigious changes in different pe- 
 riods of time. It may, however, be observed, that, in civil 
 history, there is found a much greater uniformity in the 
 history of learning and science, and that the wars, nego- 
 ciations, and politics of one age, resemble more those of 
 another, than the taste, wit, and speculative principles. In- 
 terest and ambition, honour and shame, friendship and en- 
 mity, gratitude and revenge, are the prime movers in all 
 public transactions ; and these passions are of a very stub- 
 born and untraceable nature, in comparison of the senti- 
 ments and understanding, which are easily varied by edu- 
 cation and example. The Goths were much more infe- 
 rior to the Romans in taste and science, than in courage 
 and virtue. 
 / But not to compare together nations so widely different ; 
 it may be observed, that even this latter period of human 
 learning is, in many respects, of an opposite character to 
 the ancient ; and that, if we be superior in philosophy, we
 
 02 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 are stiii, notwithstanding all our refinements, much infe- 
 rior in eloquence./ 
 
 In ancient times, no work of genius was thought to re- 
 quire so great parts and capacity, as the speaking in pu- 
 blic ; and some eminent writers have pronounced the ta- 
 lents, even of a great poet or philosopher, to be of an in- 
 ferior nature to those which are requisite for such an un- 
 dertaking. Greece and Rome produced, each of them, 
 but one accomplished orator ; and whatever praises the 
 other celebrated speakers might merit, they were still es- 
 teemed much inferior to these great models of eloquence. 
 It is observable, that the aucient critics could scarcely find 
 two orators in any age, who deserved to be placed precise- 
 ly in the same rank, and possessed the same degree of me- 
 rit. Calvus, Caelius, Curio, Hortensius, Caesar, rose one 
 above another : But the greatest of that age was inferior 
 to Cicero, the most eloquent speaker that had ever appear- 
 ed in Rome. Those of fine taste, however, pronounced 
 this judgment of the Roman orator, as well as of the Gre- 
 cian, that both of them surpassed in eloquence all that had 
 ever appeared, but that they were far from reaching the 
 perfection of their art, which was infinite, and not only ex- 
 ceeded human force to attain, but human imagination to 
 conceive. Cicero declares himself satisfied with his own 
 performances; nay, even with those of Demosthenes. If a 
 sunt avidec et capaces mecr. aures, says he, et semper aliquid 
 immensum, in finif unique desideranl. 
 
 Of all the polite and learned nations, England alone pos- 
 sesses a popular government, or admits into the legislature 
 such numerous assemblies as can be supposed to lie under 
 the dominion of eloquence. But what has England to boast 
 of in this particular ? In enumerating the great men, who 
 have done honour to our country, we exult in our poets
 
 0¥ ELOOUENCE. 93 
 
 and philosophers ; but what orators are ever mentioned ? 
 or where are the monuments of their genius to be met with ? 
 There are found, indeed, in our histories, the names of se- 
 veral, who directed the resolutions of cur parliament: But 
 neither themselves nor others have taken the pains to pre- 
 serve their speeches : and the authority, which they pos- 
 sessed, seems to have been owing to their experience, wis- 
 dom, or power, more than to their talents for oratory. At 
 present, there are above half a dozen speakers in the two 
 houses, who, in the judgment of the public, have reached 
 very near the same pitch of eloquence ; and no man pre- 
 tends to give any one the preference above the rest. This 
 seems to me a certain proof, that none of them have attain- 
 ed much beyond a mediocrity in their art, and that the 
 species of eloquence, which they aspire to, gives no exer- 
 cise to the sublimer faculties of the mind, but may be reach- 
 ed by ordinary talents and a slight application. A hun- 
 dred cabinet-makers in London can work a table or a 
 chair equally well ; but no one poet can write verses with 
 such spirit and elegance as Mr Pope. 
 
 We are told, that when Demosthenes was to plead, all 
 ingenious men flocked to Athens from the most remote 
 parts of Greece, as to the most celebrated spectacle of the 
 world a . At London you may see men sauntering in the 
 court of requests, while the most important debate is car- 
 rying on in the two houses ; and many do not think them- 
 selves sufficiently compensated for the losing of their 
 dinners, by all the eloquence of our most celebrated speak- 
 
 a Ne illud quidem intelligunt, non modo ita memoriae proditum esse, sed 
 ita necesse fuisse. cum Demosthenes dicturus esset, nt concursus, audiendl 
 causa, ex tota Graecia fierent. At cum isti Attici dicunt, non modo a co- 
 rona (quod est ipsum miserabile) sed etiara ab advocatis Telinquuntur. 
 
 Cicero d'j Claris Oratoribus-
 
 .91- ESSAY XIII. 
 
 ers. When old Cibber is to act, the curiosity of several 
 is more excited, than when our prime minister is to de- 
 fend himself from a motion for his removal or impeach- 
 ment. 
 
 Even a person, unacquainted with the noble remains of 
 ancient orators, may judge, from a few strokes, that the 
 style or species of their eloquence was infinitely more su- 
 blime than that which modern orators aspire to. How 
 absurd would it appear, in our temperate and calm speak- 
 ers, to make use of an Apostrophe , like that noble one of 
 Demosthenes, so much celebrated by Quintilian and Lon- 
 ginus, when justifying the unsuccessful battle of Chaeronea, 
 he breaks out, " No, my fellow-citizens, No : You have 
 not erred. I swear by the manes of those heroes, who 
 fought for the same cause in the plains of Marathon and 
 Platsea." Who could now endure such a bold and poeti- 
 cal figure as that which Cicero employs, after describing, 
 in the most tragical terms, the crucifixion of a Roman 
 citizen ? " Should I paint the horrors of this scene, not to 
 Roman citizens, not to the allies of our state, not to those 
 who have ever heard of the Roman name, not even to 
 men, but to brute creatures ; or, to go farther, should I 
 lift up my voice, in the most desolate solitude, to the rocks 
 and mountains, yet should I surely see those rude and in- 
 animate parts of nature moved with horror and indigna- 
 tion at the recital of so enormous an action a ." With 
 what a blaze of eloquence must such a sentence be sur- 
 
 a The original is : " Quod si haec non arl cives Romanos, non ad aliquos 
 amicos nostrae civitatis, non ad eos qui populi Romani nomcn audissent ; 
 denique, si non ad homines, verum ad bestias ; ant etiam, lit longius pro- 
 grediar, si in aliqua desertissima solitudine, ad saxa et ad scopulos haec con- 
 queii et deplorare veliem, tamen omnia muta atque inanima, tanta et tarn 
 Indigna mum atrocitate commovercntur. Cic. in Vcr.
 
 OF ELOQUENCE. S)5 
 
 rounded to give it grace, or cause it to make any impres- 
 sion on the hearers ? And what noble art and sublime 
 talents are requisite to arrive, by just degrees, at a senti- 
 ment so bold and excessive : To inflame the audience, so 
 as to make them accompany the speaker in such violent 
 passions, and such elevated conceptions ; and to conceal, 
 under a torrent of eloquence, the artifice by which all this is 
 effectuated ! Should this sentiment even appear to us ex- 
 cessive, as perhaps justly it may, it will at least serve to 
 give an idea of the style of ancient eloquence, where such 
 swelling expressions were not rejected as wholly monstrous 
 and gigantic. 
 
 Suitable to this vehemence of thought and expression, 
 was the vehemence of action, observed in the ancient ora- 
 tors. The stipplosio pedis, or stamping with the foot, was 
 one of the most usual and moderate gestures which they 
 made use of a ; though that is now esteemed too violent, 
 either for the senate, bar, or pulpit, and is only admitted 
 into the theatre, to accompany the most violent passions, 
 which are there represented. 
 
 One is somewhat at a loss to what cause we may ascribe 
 so sensible a decline of eloquence in latter ages. The ge- 
 nius of mankind, at all times, is perhaps equal : The mo- 
 derns have applied themselves, with great industry and 
 success, to all the other arts and sciences : And a learned 
 nation possesses a popular government ; a circumstance 
 which seems requisite for the full display of these noble ta- 
 lents : But notwithstanding all these advantages, our pro- 
 
 ;i Ubi dolor? Ubi ardor animi, qui etiam ex infantium ingeniis elicen 
 voces et querelas solet? nulla perturbatio animi, nulla corporis : irons nor* 
 percussa, non femur; pedi=> (quod minimum est) nulla supplosio. Itaque 
 tantum abfuit ut inflamnures nostras aiiimos ; somnum isto loco vix tene- 
 bamus. Ciccru de Claris Oratorilms.
 
 96 ESSAY XI 13. 
 
 gress in eloquence is very inconsiderable, in comparison of 
 the advances which we have made in all other parts of 
 learning. 
 
 Shall we assert, that the strains of ancient eloquence are 
 unsuitable to our age, and ought not to be imitated by mo- 
 dern orators ? Whatever reasons may be made use of to 
 prove this, I am persuaded they will be found, upon exa- 
 mination, to be unsound and unsatisfactory. 
 
 First, It may be said, that, in ancient times, during the 
 flourishing period of Greek and Roman learning, the mu- 
 nicipal laws, in every state, were but few and simple, and 
 the decision of causes was, in a great measure, left to the 
 equity and common sense of the judges. The study of the 
 laws was not then a laborious occupation, requiring the 
 drudgery of a whole life to finish it, and incompatible with 
 every other study or profession. The great statesmen and 
 generals among the Romans were all lawyers ; and Cice- 
 ro, to shew the facility of acquiring this science, declares, 
 that in the midst of all his occupations, he would under- 
 take, in a few days, to make himself a complete civilian. 
 Now, where a pleader addresses himself to the equity of 
 his judges, he has much more room to display his elo- 
 quence, than where he must draw his arguments from strict 
 laws, statutes, and precedents. In the former case, many 
 circumstances must be taken in ; many personal considera- 
 tions regarded ; and even favour and inclination, which it 
 belongs to the orator, by his art and eloquence, to conci- 
 liate, may be disguised under the appearance of equity. 
 But how shall a modern lawyer have leisure to quit his 
 toilsome occupations, in order to gather the flowers of 
 Parnassus? Or what opportunity shall he have of display- 
 ing them, amidst the. rigid and subtle arguments, objec^ 
 ? ions and replies, which he is obliged to make use of? The, 
 
 I
 
 OF eloquence. 97 
 
 greatest genius, and greatest orator, who should pretend 
 to plead before the Chancellor, after a month's study of 
 the laws, would only labour to make himself ridiculous. 
 
 I am ready to own, that this circumstance, of the mul- 
 tiplicity and intricacy of laws, is a discouragement to elo- 
 quence in modern times : But 1 assert, that it will not en- 
 tirely account for the decline of that noble art. It may 
 banish oratory from Westminster- Hall, but not from ei- 
 ther house of Parliament. Among the Athenians, the 
 Areopagites expressly forbade all allurements of eloquence ; 
 and some have pretended, that in the Greek orations, writ- 
 ten in the judiciary form, there is not so odd and rheto- 
 rical a style as appears in the Roman. But to what a 
 pitch did the Athenians carry their eloquence in the deli- 
 berative kind, when affairs of state were canvassed, and the 
 liberty, happiness, and honour of the repubiic were the 
 subject of debate ? Disputes of this nature elevate the ge- 
 nius above ail others, and give the fullest scops to elo- 
 quence ; and such disputes are very frequent in this na- 
 tion. 
 
 Secondly, It may be pretended, that the decline of elo- 
 quence is owing to the superior good sense of the moderns, 
 who reject with disdain all those rhetorical tricks employ- 
 ed to seduce the judges, and will admit of nothing but so- 
 lid argument in any debate of deliberation. If a man be 
 accused of murder, the fact must be proved by witnesses 
 and evidence, and the laws will afterwards determine the 
 punishment of the criminal. It would be ridiculous to 
 describe, in strong colours, the horror and cruelty of the 
 action ; to introduce the relations of the dead, and, at a 
 signal, make them throw themselves at the feet of the 
 judges, imploring justice, with tears and lamentations: 
 And still more ridiculous would it be, to employ a picture 
 
 VOL. I. 7?
 
 98 ESSAY XI 11. 
 
 representing the bloody deed, in order to move the judges 
 by the display of so tragical a spectacle; though we know 
 that this artifice was sometimes practised by the pleaders 
 of old *. Now, banish the pathetic from public discourses, 
 and you reduce the speakers merely to modern eloquence ; 
 that is, to good sense, delivered in proper expressions. 
 
 Perhaps it may be acknowledged, that our modern cus- 
 toms, or our superior good sense, if you will, should make 
 our orators more cautious and reserved than the ancient, 
 in attempting to inflame the passions, or elevate the ima- 
 gination of their audience: But I see no reason why it 
 should make them despair absolutely of succeeding in that 
 attempt. It should make them redouble their art, not 
 abandon it entirely. The ancient orators seem also to 
 have been on their guard against this jealousy of their au- 
 dience ; but they took a different way of eluding it fa . They 
 hurried away with such a torrent of sublime and pathetic, 
 that they left their hearers no leisure to perceive the arti- 
 fice by which they were deceived. Nay, to consider the 
 matter aright, they were not deceived by any artifice. The 
 orator, by the force of his own genius and eloquence, first 
 inflamed himself with anger, indignation, pity, sorrow ; 
 and then communicated those impetuous movements to 
 his audience. 
 
 Does any man pretend to have more good sense than 
 Julius Caesar? yet that haughty conqueror, we know, was 
 so subdued by the charms of Cicero's eloquence, that he 
 was, in a manner, constrained to change his settled pur- 
 pose and resolution, and to absolve a criminal, whom, be- 
 fore that orator pleaded, he was determined to condemn. 
 
 Some objections, I own, notwithstanding his vast sue- 
 
 a Qvism. lib, vi. cap. i. h Losginus, cap. 15.
 
 OF ELOQUENCE. 99 
 
 cess, may lie against some passages of the Roman orator. 
 He is tdo florid and rhetorical : His figures are too strik- 
 ing and palpable : The divisions of his discour-e are drawn 
 chieflv from the rules of the schools : And his wit disdains 
 not always the artifice even of a pun, rhyme, or jii gle of 
 words. The Grecian addressed himself to an audience 
 much less refined than the Roman senate or judges. The 
 lowest vulgar of Athens were his sovereigns, and the arbi- 
 ters of his eloquence a . Yet is his manner more chaste and 
 austere than that of the other. Could it be copied, its suc- 
 cess would be infallible over a modern assembly. Ii is ra- 
 pid harmony, exactly adjusted to the sense: It is vehe- 
 ment reasoning, without any appearance of art : It is dis- 
 dain, anger, boldness, freedom, involved in a continued 
 stream of argument: And, of all human productions, the 
 orations of Demosthenes present to us the models which 
 approach the nearest to perfection 
 
 Thirdly, It may be pretended, that the disorders of the 
 ancient governments, and the enormous crimes, of winch 
 the citizens were often guilty, afforded much ampler mat- 
 ter for eloquence than can be met with among the mo- 
 derns. Were there no Verres or Catiline, there would be 
 no Cicero. But that this reason can have no great infiu- 
 ence is evident. It would be easy to find a Philip in mo- 
 dern times; but where shall we find a Demosthenes? 
 
 What remains, then, but that we lay the blame on the 
 want of genius, or of judgment, in our speakers, who ei- 
 ther found themselves incapable of reaching the heights of 
 ancient eloquence, or rejected all such endeavours, as un- 
 suitable to the spirit of modern assemblies? A few success- 
 ful attempts of this nature might rouze the genius of the 
 
 * .See Note fD.l
 
 100 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 nation, excite the emulation of the youth, and accustom 
 our ears to a more sublime and more pathetic elocution, 
 than what we have been hitherto entertained with. There 
 is certainly something accidental in the first rise and pro- 
 gress of the arts in any nation. I doubt whether a very 
 satisfactory reason can be given, why ancient Rome, though 
 it received all its refinements from Greece, could attain on- 
 ly to a relish for statuary, painting, and architecture* with- 
 out reaching the practice of these arts : While modern 
 Rome has been excited by a few remains found among the 
 ruins of antiquity, and has produced artists of the greatest 
 eminence and distinction. Had such a cultivated genius 
 for oratory, as Waller's for poetry, arisen during the civil 
 Wars, when liberty began to be fully established, and popu- 
 lar assemblies to enter into all the most material points of 
 government; I am persuaded so illustrious an example 
 would have given a quite different turn to British eloquence, 
 and made us reach the perfection of the aneient model. 
 Our orators would then have done honour to their coun- 
 try, as well as our poets, geometers, and philosophers ; and 
 British Ciceros have appeared, as well as British Archime- 
 deses and Yirgils. 
 
 It is seldom or never found, when a false taste in poetry 
 or eloquence prevails among any people, that it has been 
 preferred to a true, upon comparison and reflection. It 
 commonly prevails merely from ignorance of the true, and 
 from the want of perfect models to lead men into a juster 
 apprehension, and more refined relish of those productions 
 of genius. When these appear, they soon unite all suffra- 
 ges in their favour, and, by their natural and powerful 
 charms, gain over, even the most prejudiced, to the love 
 and admiration of them. The principles of every passion, 
 and of every sentiment, is in every man ; and, when touch-
 
 OF ELOQUENCE, 101 
 
 ed properly, they rise to life, and warm the heart, and con- 
 vey that satisfaction, by which a work of genius is distin- 
 guished from the adulterate beauties of a capricious wit 
 and fancy. And, if this observation be true, with regard 
 to all the liberal arts, it must be peculiarly so with regard 
 to eloquence; which, being merely calculated for the pu- 
 blic, and for men of the world, cannot, with any pretence 
 of reason, appeal from the people to more refined judges, 
 but must submit to the public verdict without reserve or 
 limitation. Whoever, upon comparison, is deemed by a 
 common audience the greatest orator, ought most certain- 
 ly to be pronounced such by men of science and erudition. 
 And though an indifferent speaker may triumph for a long 
 time, and be esteemed altogether perfect by the vulgar, who 
 are satisfied with his accomplishments, and know not in 
 what he is defective ; yet, whenever the true genius arises, 
 he draws to him the attention of every one, and immedi- 
 ately appears superior to his rival. 
 
 Now, to judge by this rule, ancient eloquence, that is, 
 the sublime and passionate, is of much juster taste than the 
 modern, or the argumentative and rational; and, if pro- 
 perly executed, will always have more command and au- 
 thority over mankind. We are satisfied with our mediocri- 
 ty, because we have had no experience of any thing better: 
 But the ancients had experience of both •, and upon com- 
 parison, gave the preference to that kind of which they have 
 left us such applauded models. For, if I mistake not, our 
 modern eloquence is of the same style or species with that 
 which ancient critics denominated Attic eloquence, that is, 
 calm, elegant, and subtile, which instructed the reason 
 more than affected the passions, and never raised its tone 
 above argument or common discourse. Such was the elo- 
 quence of Lysias among the Athenians, and of Calvus a^-
 
 102 ESSAY rflll. 
 
 mong the Romans. These were esteemed in their time ; 
 but, when compared with Demosthenes and Cicero, were 
 eclipsed like a taper when set in the rays of a meridian sun. 
 Those latter orators possessed the same elegance, and sub- 
 tilty, and force of argument with the former; but, what 
 rendered them chiefly admirable, was that pathetic and sub- 
 lime, which, on proper occasions, they threw into their dis- 
 course, and by which they commanded the resolution of 
 their audience. 
 
 Of this species of eloquence we have scarcely had any 
 instance in England, at least in our public speakers. In 
 our writers, we have had some instances which have met 
 with great applause, and might assure our ambitious youth 
 of equal or superior glory in attempts for the revival of an- 
 cient eloquence. Lord Bolingbroke's productions, with all 
 their defects in argument, method, and precision, contain 
 a force and energy which our orators scarcely ever aim 
 at; though it is evident that such an elevated style has 
 much better grace in a speaker than in a writer, and is as- 
 sured ot more prompt and more astonishing success. It 
 is there seconded by the graces of voice and action : The 
 movements are mutually communicated between the ora- 
 tor and the audience : And the very aspect of a large as- 
 sembly, attentive to the discourse of one man, must inspire 
 him with a peculiar elevation, sufficient to give a propriety 
 to the strongest figures and expressions. It is true, there 
 is a great prejudice against set speeches ; and a man can- 
 not escape ridicule, who repeats a discourse as a school- 
 boy does his lesson, and takes no notice of any thing that 
 has been advanced in the cour?e of the debate. But where 
 is the necessity of failing into this absurdity? A public 
 speaker must know beforehand the question under debate. 
 He may compose all the arguments, objections, and an
 
 OF ELOQUENCE. 103 
 
 swers, such as he thinks will be most proper for his dis- 
 course a . If any thing new occur, he may supply it from 
 his invention ; nor will the difference be very apparent be- 
 tween his elaborate and his extemporary compositions. 
 The mind naturally continues with the same impetus or 
 force, which it has acquired by its motion ; as a vessel, 
 once impelled by the oars, carries on its course for some 
 time, when the original impulse is suspended. 
 
 I shall conclude this subject with observing, that, even 
 though our modern orators should not elevate their style, 
 or aspire to a rivalship with the ancient : yet is there, in 
 most of their speeches, a material defect, which they might 
 correct, without departing from that composed air of ar- 
 gument and reasoning, to which they limit their ambition. 
 Their great affectation of extemporary discourses has made 
 them reject all order and method, which seems so requisite 
 to argument, and without which it is scarcely possible to 
 produce an entire conviction on the mind. It is not, that 
 one would recommend many divisions in a public discourse, 
 unless the subject very evidently offer them : But it is easy, 
 without this formality, to observe a method, and make that 
 method conspicuous to the hearers, who will be infinitely 
 pleased to see the arguments rise naturally from one an- 
 other, and will retain a more thorough persuasion, than 
 can arise from the strongest reasons, which are thrown to- 
 gether in confusion. 
 
 a The first of the Athenians, who composed and wrote his speeches, was 
 Pericles, a man of business and a man of sense, if ever there was one, 
 
 npaTOf ypaXToy Koyot «v SiKturrpiu an, tuv ypo uvtcj cp>jS'ix?ovTUv- Suidas
 
 E^SAY XIV. 
 
 OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE ARTS AN» 
 SCIENCES. 
 
 JS otiiing requires greater nicety, in our inquiries con- 
 cerning human affairs, than to distinguish exactly what is 
 owing to chance, and what proceeds from causes; nor is 
 there any subject, in which an author is more liable to de- 
 ceive himself by false subtleties and refinements. To say, 
 that any event is derived from chance, cuts short all farther 
 inquiry concerning it, and leaves the writer in the same 
 state of ignorance wirh the re:>t of mankind. But when 
 the event is supposed to proceed from certain and stable 
 causes, he may then display Ins ingenuity, in assigning 
 these causes; and as a man of any subtlety can never be at 
 a loss in this particular, he has thereby an opportunity of 
 swelling his volumes, and discovering his profound know- 
 ledge, in observing what escapes the vulgar and ignorant. 
 The di tinguishing between chance? and causes must de- 
 pend upon every particular man's sagacity, in considering 
 every particular incident. But, if I were to assign any 
 general rule to help us in applying this distinction, it would 
 be the following, What de> e?uls unon a Jen- persons is, in 
 a great measure, to be ascribed to chance, or secret and un- 
 known causes , What arises J) am a great number, may often 
 he accounted for by determinate and lawjcn causes.
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 105 
 
 Two natural reasons may be assigned for this rule. 
 First, If you suppose a dye to have any bias, however 
 small, to a particular side, this bias, though, perhaps, it 
 may not appear in a few throws, will certainly prevail in 
 a great number, and will cast the balance entirely to that 
 side. In like manner, when any causes beget a particular 
 inclination or passion, at a certain time, and among a cer- 
 tain people; though many individuals may escape the con- 
 tagion, and be ruled by passions peculiar to themselves, 
 yet the multitude will certainly be seized by the common 
 affection, and be governed by it in all their actions. 
 
 Secondly, Those principles or causes, which are fitted to 
 operate on a multitude, are always of a grosser and more 
 stubborn nature, less subject to accidents, and less influen- 
 ced by whim and private fancy, than those which operate 
 on a few only. The latter are commonly so delicate and 
 refined, that the smallest incident in the health, education, 
 or fortune of a particular person, is sufficient to divert 
 their course and retard their operation ; nor is it possible 
 to reduce them to any general maxims or observations. 
 Their influence at one time will never assure us concern- 
 ing their influence at another ; even though all the ge- 
 neral circumstances should be the same in both cases. 
 
 To judge by this rule, the domestic and the gradual 
 revolutions of a state must be a more proper subject of 
 reasoning and observation, than the foreign and the vio- 
 lent, which are commonly produced by single persons, and 
 are more influenced by whim, folly, or caprice, than by 
 general pactions and interests. The depression of the 
 lords, and rise of the commons in England, after the sta- 
 tutes of alienation and the increase of trade and industry 
 are more easily accounted for by general principles, than 
 the depression of the Spanish, and rise of the French mo-
 
 106 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 narchy after the death of Charles Quint. Had Harry IV. 
 Cardinal Richelieu, and Louis XIV. been Spaniards ; and 
 Philip II. III. and IV. and Charles II. been Frenchmen, 
 the history of these two nations had been entirely rever- 
 sed. 
 
 For the same reason, it is more easy to account for the 
 rise and progress of commerce in any kingdom, than for 
 that of learning; and a state, which should apply itself to 
 the encouragement of the one, would be more assured of 
 success, than one which should cultivate the other. Ava- 
 rice, or the desire of gain, is an universal passion, which 
 operates at all times, in all places, and upon all persons : 
 But curiosity, or the love of knowledge, has a very limit- 
 ed influence, and requires youth, leisure, education, ge- 
 nius, and example, to make it govern any person. You 
 will never want booksellers, while there are buyers of 
 books : But there may frequently be readers where there 
 are no authors. Multitudes of people, necessity, and li- 
 berty, have begotten commerce in Holland : But study 
 and application have scarcely produced any eminent wri- 
 ters. 
 
 We may, therefore, conclude, that there is no subject, 
 in which we must proceed with more caution, than in tra- 
 cing the history of the arts and sciences ; lest we assign 
 causes which never existed, and reduce what is merely 
 contingent to stable and universal principles. Those who 
 cultivate the sciences in any state, are always few in num- 
 ber : The passion, which governs them, limited : Their 
 taste and judgment delicate and easily perverted : And 
 their application disturbed with the smallest accident. 
 Chance, therefore, or secret and unknown causes, must 
 have a great influence on the rise and progress of all the 
 refined arts.
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 107 
 
 But there is a reason, which induces me not to ascribe 
 the matter altogether to chance. Though the persons, 
 who cultivate the sciences with such astonishing success, 
 as to attract the admiration of posterity, be always few, in 
 all nations and all ages ; it is impossible but a share of the 
 same spirit and genius must be antecedently diffused 
 through the people among whom they arise, in order to 
 produce, form, and cultivate, from their earliest infancy, 
 the taste and judgment of those eminent writers. The 
 mass cannot be altogether insipid, from which such refi- 
 ned spirits are extracted. There is a God "jcithin ns, says 
 Ovid, iv/io breathes that divine Jire, bj/nhich vce arc anima- 
 ted a . Poets in all ages have advanced this claim to in- 
 spiration. There is not, however, any thing supernatural 
 in the case. Their fire is not kindled from heaven. It 
 only runs along the earth ; is caught from one breast to 
 another •, and burns brightest, where the materials are best 
 prepared, and most happily disposed. The question, there- 
 fore, concerning the rise and progress of the arts and 
 sciences is not altogether a question concerning the taste, 
 genius, and spirit of a (ew, but concerning those of a whole 
 people ; and may, therefore, be accounted for, in some- 
 measure, by general causes and principles. I grant, that 
 a man, who should inquire, why such a particular poet, as 
 Homer, for instance, existed, at such, a place, in such a 
 time, would throw himself headlong into chimrera, and 
 could never treat of such a subject, without a multitude of 
 false subtleties and refinements. He might as well pre- 
 tend to give a reason, why such particular generals, as 
 Fabius and Scipio, lived in Rome at such a time, and why 
 Fabius came into the world before Scipio. For such in_ 
 
 " Est Deus in nobis ; agiu.nte calescimus illo : 
 Impetus hie, sacra semina mentis habet, Ovid. Fast. lib. i
 
 K)S ESSAY XIV. 
 
 eidents as these, no other reason can be given than that of 
 Horace : 
 
 Scit genius, natale comes, qui tempcrat astrum, 
 
 Natura' Deus humanne, mortalis in unum 
 
 Q,uodque caput, vultu mutabilis, albus et atcr- 
 
 But I am persuaded, that in many cases good reasons 
 might be given, why such a nation is more polite and 
 learned, at a particular time, than any of its neighbours. 
 At least, this is so curious a subject, that it were a pity to 
 abandon it entirely, before we have found whether it be 
 susceptible of reasoning, and can be reduced to any gene- 
 ral principles. 
 
 . My first observation on this head is, That it is impossi- 
 ble for the mis and sciences to arise, at first > among any peo- 
 ple, unless that people enjoy the blessing of a free government. 
 
 In the first ages of the world, when men are as yet bar- 
 barous and ignorant, they seek no farther security against 
 mutual violence and injustice, than the choice of some ru- 
 lers, few or many, in whom they place an implicit confi- 
 dence, without providing any security, by laws or politi- 
 cal institutions, against the violence and injustice of these 
 rulers. If the authority be centered in a single person, 
 and if the people, either by conquest, or. by the ordinary 
 course of propagation, increase to a great multitude, the 
 monarch, finding it impossible, in his own person, to exe- 
 cute every office of sovereignty, in every place, must dele- 
 gate his authority to inferior magistrates, who preserve 
 peace and order in their respective districts. As expe- 
 dience and education have not yet refined the judgments 
 of men to any considerable degree, the prince, who is him- 
 self unrestrained, never dreams of restraining his minister?, 
 but delegates his full authority to every one, whom he sets 
 over any portion of the people. All general laws are at-
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 109 
 
 tended with inconveniences, when applied to particular 
 cases ; and it requires great penetration and experience, 
 both to perceive that these inconveniences are fewer than 
 what result from full discretionary powers, in every ma- 
 gistrate ; and also to discern what general laws are, upon 
 the whole, attended with fewest inconveniences. This is 
 a matter of so great difficulty, that men may have made 
 some advances, even in the sublime arts of poetry and elo- 
 quence, where a rapidity of genius and imagination as- 
 sists their progress, before they have arrived at any great 
 refinement in their municipal laws, where frequent trials 
 and diligent observation can alone direct their improve- 
 ments. It is not, therefore, to be supposed, that a barba- 
 rous monarch, unrestrained ami uninstructed, will ever 
 become a legislator, or think of restraining his Bashaws, 
 in every province, or even his Cadis, in every village. We 
 are told, that the late Czar, though actuated with a noble 
 genius, and smit with the love and admiration of Euro- 
 pean arts ; yet professed an esteem for the Turkish policy 
 in this particular, and approved of such summary decisions 
 of causes, as are practised in that barbarous monarchy, 
 where the judges are not restrained by any methods, forms, 
 or laws. He did not perceive, how contrary such a prac- 
 tice would have been to all his other endeavours for refi- 
 ning his people. Arbitrary power, in all cases, is some- 
 what oppressive and debasing ; but it is altogether ruinous 
 and intolerable, when contracted into a small compass ; 
 and becomes still worse, when the person, who possesses it, 
 knows that the time of his authority is limited and uncer- 
 tain. Habet suvjectos tanquam suos ,• viles, ut alienos a . He 
 governs the subjects with full authority, as if they were his 
 
 * Tacit. Hist. lib. i,
 
 110 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 own ; and with negligence or tyranny, as belonging to 
 another. A people, governed after such a manner, arc 
 slaves in the full and proper sense of the word ; and it is 
 impossible they can ever a pire to any refinements of taste 
 or reason. They dare not so much as pretend to enjoy 
 the necessaries of life in plenty or security. 
 
 To expect, therefore, that the arts and sciences should 
 take their first rise in a monarchy, is to expect a contra- 
 diction. Before these refinements have taken place, the 
 monarch is ignorant and uninstructed ; and not having 
 knowledge sufficient to make him sensible of the necessity 
 of balancing his government upon general laws, he dele- 
 gates his full power to all inferior magistrates. This bar- 
 barous policy debases the people, and for ever prevents all 
 improvements. Were it possible, that, before science were 
 known in the world, a monarch could possess so much wis- 
 dom as to become a legislator, and govern his people by 
 law, not by the arbitrary will of their fellow-subjects, it 
 might be possible for that species of government to be the 
 first nursery of arts and sciences. But that supposition 
 seems scarcely to be consistent or rational. 
 
 It may happen, that a republic, in its infant state, may 
 be supported by as few laws as a barbarous monarchy, and 
 may entrust as unlimited an authority to its magistrates or 
 judges. But, besides that the frequent elections by the 
 people are a considerable check upon authority ; it is im- 
 possible, but in time, the necessity of restraining the magis- 
 trates, in order to perserve liberty, must at last appear, and 
 give rise to general laws and statutes. The Roman Con- 
 suls, for some time, decided all causes, without being con- 
 fined by any positive statutes, till the people, bearing this 
 yoke with impatience, created the decemvirs, who promul- 
 gated the twelve tables ; a body of laws, which, though,
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 1 1 I 
 
 perhaps, they were not equal in bulk to one English act of 
 parliament, were almost the only written rules, which re- 
 gulated property and punishment, for some ages, in that 
 famous republic. They were, however, sufficient, together 
 with the forms of a free government, to secure the lives and 
 properties of the citizens ; to exempt one man from the 
 dominion of another ; and to protect every one against the 
 violence or tyranny of his fellow-citizens. In such a situa- 
 tion the sciences may raise.their heads and flourish ; but ne- 
 ver can have being amidst such a scene of oppression and 
 slavery, as always results from barbarous monarchies, where 
 the people alone are restrained by the authority of the ma- 
 gistrates, and the magistrates arc not restrained by any law 
 or statute. An unlimited despotism of this nature, while 
 it exists, effectually puts a stop to all improvements, and 
 keeps men from attaining that knowledge, which is re- 
 quisite to instruct them in the advantages arising from a 
 better police, and more moderate authority. 
 
 Here then are the advartages of free states. Though 
 a republic should be barbarous, it necessarily, by an in- 
 fallible operation, gives rise to Law, even before mankind 
 have made any considerable advances in the other scien- 
 ces. From law arises security : From security curiositv : 
 And from curiosity knowledge. The latter steps of this 
 progress may be more accidental ; but the former are al- 
 together necessary. A republic without laws can never 
 have any duration. On the contrary, in a monarchical 
 government, law arises not necessarily from the forms of 
 government. Monarchy, when absolute, contains even 
 something repugnant to law. Great wisdom and reflection 
 can alone reconcile them. But such a degree of wisdom 
 can never be expected, before the greater refinements and 
 improvements of human reason. These refinements re-
 
 112 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 quire curiosity, security, and law. The first growth, there- 
 fore, of the arts and sciences, can never be expected in 
 despotic governments. 
 
 There are other causes, which discourage the rise of the 
 refined arts in despotic governments ; though I take the 
 want of laws, and the delegation of full powers to every 
 petty magistrate, to be the principal. Eloquence certainly 
 springs up more naturally in popular governments : Emula- 
 tion, too, in every accomplishment, must there be more 
 animated and enlivened ; and genius and capacity have a 
 fuller scope and career. All these causes render free 
 governments the only proper nursery for the arts and scien- 
 ces. 
 
 The next observation which I shall make on this head 
 is, That nothing is more favourable to the rise of politeness 
 and learnings than a number of neighbouring and independ- 
 ent slates, connected together by commerce and policy. The 
 emulation, which naturally arises among those neighbour- 
 ing states, is an obvious source of improvement : But what 
 I would chiefly insist on is the stop, which 'such limited 
 territories give both to power and to authority. 
 
 Extended governments, where a single person has great 
 influence, soon become absolute ; but small ones change 
 naturally into commonwealths. A large government is 
 accustomed by degrees to tyranny ; because each act of 
 violence is at first performed upon a part, which, being 
 distant from the majority, is not taken notice of, nor excites 
 any violent ferment. Besides, a large government, though 
 the whole be discontented, may, by a little art, be kept in 
 obedience, while each part, ignorant of the resolutions of 
 the rest, is aft aid to begin any commotion or insurrection. 
 Not to mention, that there is a superstitious reverence for 
 princes, which mankind naturally contract when they do
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 113 
 
 not often see the sovereign, and when many of them be- 
 come not acquainted with him so as to perceive his weak- 
 nesses. And as large states can afford a great expence, in 
 order to support the pomp of majesty ; this is a kind of 
 fascination on men, and naturally contributes to the ensla- 
 ving of them. 
 
 In a small government, any act of oppression is imme- 
 diately known throughout the whole : The murmurs and 
 discontents proceeding from it, aro. easily communicated : 
 And the indignation arises the higher, because the subjects 
 are not apt to apprehend, in such states, that the distance 
 is very wide between themselves and their sovereign. " No 
 man," said the prince of Conde, " is a hero to his Valet 
 de Chambre" It is certain that admiration and acquaint- 
 ance are altogether incompatible towards any mortal crea- 
 ture. Sleep and love convinced even Alexander himself 
 that he was not a God : But I suppose that such as daily 
 attended him could easily, from the numberless weaknesses 
 to which he was subject, have given him many still more 
 convincing proofs of his humanity. 
 
 But the divisions into small states are favourable to 
 learning, by stopping the progress to authority as well as 
 that of power. Reputation is often as great a fascination 
 upon men as sovereignty, and is equally destructive to the 
 freedom of thought and examination. But where a num- 
 ber of neighbouring states have a great intercourse of arts 
 and commerce, their mutual jealousy keeps them from re- 
 ceiving too lightly the law from each other, in matters of 
 taste and of reasoning, and makes them examine every work 
 of art with the greatest care and accuracy. The contagion 
 of popular opinion spreads not so easily from one place to 
 another. It readily receives a check in some state or other, 
 where it concurs not with the prevailing prejudices. And 
 
 vol. I. i
 
 114- ESSAY XIV. 
 
 nothing but nature and reason, or at least what bears them 
 a strong resemblance, can force its way through all ob- 
 stacles, and unite the most rival nations into an esteem and 
 admiration of it. 
 
 Greece was a cluster of little principalities, which soon 
 became republics; and being united both by their near 
 neighbourhood, and by the ties of the same language and 
 interest, they entered into the closest intercourse of com- 
 merce and learning. There concurred a happy climate, a 
 soil not unfertile, and a most harmonious and comprehen- 
 sive language ; so that every circumstance among that 
 people seemed to favour the rise of the arts and sciences. 
 Each city produced its several artists and philosophers, 
 who refused to yield the preference to those of the neigh- 
 bouring republics : Their contention and debates sharpen- 
 ed the wits of men : A variety of objects was presented to 
 the judgment, while each challenged the preference to the 
 rest j and the sciences, net being dwarfed by the restraint 
 of authority, were enabled to make such considerable 
 shoots, as are even at this time the objects of our admira- 
 tion. After the Roman Christian or Catholic church had 
 spread itself over the civilized world, and had engrossed 
 all the learning of the times ; being really one large state 
 within itself, and united under one head ; this variety of 
 sects immediately disappeared, and the Peripatetic philo- 
 sophy was alone admitted into all the schools, to the utter 
 depravation of every kind of learning. But mankind, ha- 
 ving at length thrown off this yoke, affairs are now re- 
 turned nearly to the same situation as before, and Europe 
 is at present a copy, at large, of what Greece was formerly 
 a pattern in miniature. We have seen the advantage of 
 this situation in several instances. What checked the pro- 
 gress of the Cartesian philosophy, to which the French
 
 THE RISE OP ARTS AND SCIENCES. 115 
 
 nation shewed such a strong propensity towards the end of 
 the last century, but the opposition made to il by the other 
 nations of Europe, who soon discovered the weak sides of 
 that philosophy ? The severest scrutiny, which Newton's 
 theory has undergone, proceeded not from his own country- 
 men, but from foreigners ; and if it can overcome the obsta- 
 cles, which it meets with at present in all parts of Europe, 
 it will probably go down triumphant to the latest posterity. 
 The English are become sensible of the scandalous licen- 
 tiousness of their stage, from the example of the French 
 decency and morals. The French are convinced, that their 
 theatre has become somewhat effeminate, by too much love 
 and gallantry ; and begin to approve of the more masculine 
 taste of some neighbouring nations. 
 
 In China, there seems to be a pretty considerable stock 
 of politeness and science, which, in the course of so many 
 centuries, might naturally be expected to ripen into some- 
 thing more perfect and finished, than what has yet arisen 
 from them. But China is one vast empire, speaking one 
 language, governed by one law, and sympathising in the 
 same manners. The authority of any teacher, such as 
 Confucius, was propagated easily from one corner of the 
 empire to the other. None had courage to resist the tor- 
 rent of popular opinion. And posterity was not bold 
 enough to dispute*what had been universally received by 
 their ancestors. This seems to be one natural reason, why 
 the sciences have made so slow a progress in that mighty 
 empire a . 
 
 If we consider the face of the globe, Europe of all the 
 four parts of the world is the most broken by seas, rivers, 
 and mountains j and Greece of all countries of Europe* 
 
 a See Note fF-l
 
 116 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 Hence these regions were naturally divided into several 
 distinct governments. And hence the sciences arose in 
 Greece; and Europe has been hitherto the most constant 
 habitation of them. 
 
 I have sometimes been inclined to think, that interrup- 
 tions in the periods of learning, were they not attended 
 with such a destruction of ancient books, and the records 
 of history, would be rather favourable to the arts and 
 sciences, by breaking the progress of authority, and de- 
 throning the tyrannical usurpers over human reason. In 
 this particular, they have the same influence as interrup- 
 tions in political governments and societies. Consider the 
 blind submission of the ancient philosophers to the several 
 masters in each school, and you will be convinced, that 
 little good could be expected from a hundred centuries of 
 such a servile philosophy. Even the Eclectics, who arose 
 about the age of Augustus, notwithstanding their profess- 
 ing to choose freely what pleased them from every diffe- 
 rent sect, were yet, in the main, as slavish and dependent 
 as any of their brethren ; since they sought for truth, not 
 in Nature, but in the several schools ; where they supposed 
 she must necessarily be found, though not united in a bo- 
 dy, yet dispersed in parts. Upon the revival of learning, 
 those sects of Stoics and Epicureans, Platonists, and Py- 
 thagoricians, could never regain any credit or authority ; 
 and, at the same time, by the example of their fall, kept 
 men from submitting, with such blind deference, to those 
 new sects, which have attempted to gain an ascendant over 
 them. 
 
 The third observation, which I shall form on this head, 
 of the rise and progress of the arts and sciences, is, That 
 though the only proper nursery of these noble plants be a 
 free state ; yet may they be transplanted into any govern-
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 117 
 
 ment ; and thai a republic is most favourable to the growth 
 of the sciences, and a civilized monarchy to that of the ■polite 
 arts. 
 
 To balance a large state or society, whether monarchical 
 or republican, on general laws, is a work of so great diffi- 
 culty, that no human genius, however comprehensive, is 
 able, by the mere dint of reason and reflection, to effect 
 it. The judgments of many must unite in this work : Ex- 
 perience must guide their labour : Time must bring it to 
 perfection : And the feeling of inconveniences must correct 
 the mistakes, which they inevitably fall into, in their first 
 trials and experiments. Hence appears the impossibility, 
 that this undertaking should be begun and carried on in 
 any monarchy ; since such a form of government, ere ci- 
 vilized, knows no other secret or policy, than that of en- 
 trusting unlimited powers to every governor or magis- 
 trate, and subdividing the people into so many classes and 
 orders of slavery. From such a situation, no improve- 
 ment can ever be expected in the sciences, in the liberal 
 arts, in laws, and scarcely in the manual arts and manu- 
 factures. The same barbarism and ignorance, with which 
 the government commences, is propagated to all posterity, 
 and can never come to a period by the efforts or ingenui- 
 ty of such unhappy slaves. 
 
 But though law, the source of all security and happi- 
 ness, arises late in any government, and is the slow product 
 of order and of liberty, it is not preserved with the same 
 difficulty with which it is produced ; but when it has once 
 taken root, is a hardy plant, which will scarcely ever pe- 
 rish through the ill culture of men, or the rigour of the 
 seasons. The arts of luxury, and much more the liberal 
 arts, which depend on a refined taste or sentiment, are 
 easily lost ; because they are always relished by a few on-
 
 118 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 ly, whose leisure, fortune, and genius, fit them for such 
 amusements. But what is profitable to every mortal, and 
 in common life, when once discovered, can scarcely fall 
 into oblivion, but by the total subversion of society, and 
 by such furious inundations of barbarous invaders, as ob- 
 literate all memory of former arts and civility. Imitation 
 also is apt to transport these coarser and more useful arts 
 from one climate to another, and make them precede the 
 refined arts in their progress ; though, perhaps, they sprang 
 after them in their first rise and propagation. From these 
 causes proceed civilized monarchies; where the arts of go- 
 vernment, first invented in free states, are preserved to the 
 mutual advantage and security of sovereign and subject. 
 
 However perfect, therefore, the monarchical form may 
 nppear to some politicians, it owes all its perfection to the 
 republican ; nor is it possible, that a pure despotism, esta- 
 blished among a barbarous people, can ever, by its native 
 force and energy, refine and polish itself. It must borrow 
 its laws, and methods, and institutions, and consequently 
 its stability and order, from free governments. These ad- 
 vantages are the sole growth of republics. The extensive 
 despotism of a barbarous monarchy, by entering into the 
 detail of the government, as well as into the principal points 
 of administration, for ever prevents all such improvements. 
 In a civilized monarchy, the prince alone is unrestrain- 
 ed in the exercise of his authority, and possesses alone a 
 power, which is not bounded by any thing but custom* 
 example, and the sense of his own interest Every minis- 
 ter or magistrate, however eminent, must submit to the 
 general laws which govern the whole society, and must 
 exert the authority delegated to him after the manner which 
 is prescribed. The people depend on none but their so- 
 vereign for the security of their property. He is so far
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 119 
 
 removed from them, and is so much exempt from private 
 jealousies or interests, that this dependence is scarcely felt. 
 And thus a species of government arises, to which, in a 
 high political rant, we may give the name of Tyranny ; 
 but which, by a just and prudent administration, may af- 
 ford tolerable security to the people, and may answer most 
 of the ends of political society. 
 
 But though in a civilized monarchy, as well as in a re- 
 public, the people have security for the enjoyment of their 
 property ; yet in both these forms of government, those 
 who possess the supreme authority have the disposal of 
 many honours and advantages, which excite the ambition 
 and avarice of mankind. The only difference is, that, in 
 a republic, the candidates for office must look downwards 
 to gain the suffrages of the people ; in a monarchy, they 
 must turn their attention upwards, to court the good 
 graces and favour of the great. To be successful in the 
 former way, it is necessary for a man to make himself use- 
 ful, by his industry, capacity, or knowledge : To be pro- 
 sperous in the latter way it is requisite for him to render 
 himself agreeable, by his wit, complaisance, or civility. A 
 strong genius succeeds best in republics : A refined taste 
 in monarchies. And, consequently, the sciences arc the 
 more natural growth of the one, and the polite arts of the 
 other. 
 
 Not to mention, that monarchies, receiving their chief 
 stability from a superstitious reverence to priests and 
 princes, have commonly abridged the liberty of reasoning, 
 with regard to religion and politics, and consequently me- 
 taphysics and morals. All these form the most consider- 
 able branches of science. Mathematics and natural phi- 
 losophy, which only remain, are not half so valuable. 
 
 Among the arts of conversation, no one pleases more
 
 J 20 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 than mutual deference or civility, which leads us to resign 
 our own inclinations to those of our companion, and to 
 curb and conceal that presumption and arrogance, so na- 
 tural to the human mind. A good-natured man, who is 
 well educated, practises this civility to every mortal, with- 
 out premeditation or interest. But in order to render that 
 valuable quality general among any people, it seems ne- 
 cessary to assist the natural disposition by some general 
 motive. Where power rises upwards from the people to 
 the great, as in all republics, such refinements of civility 
 are apt to be little practised ; since the whole state is, by 
 that means, brought near to a level, and every member of 
 it is rendered, in a great measure, independent of another. 
 The people have the advantage, by the authority of their 
 suffrages ; the great by the superiority of their station. 
 But in a civilized monarchy, there is a long train of de- 
 pendence from the prince to the peasant, which is not great 
 enough to render property precarious, or depress the minds 
 of the people ; but is sufficient to beget in every one an in- 
 clination to please his superiors, and to form himself upon 
 those models, which are most acceptable to people of con- 
 dition and education. Politeness of manners, therefore, 
 arises most naturally in monarchies and courts ; and where 
 that flourishes, none of the liberal arts will be altogether 
 neglected or despised. 
 
 The republics in Europe are at present noted for want 
 of politeness. The good-manners of a S'di'iss civilized in 
 Holland a , is an expression for rusticity among the French. 
 The English, in some degree, fall under the same censure, 
 notwithstanding their learning and genius. And if the 
 
 - 1 C'est la politesse d'un Suisse 
 En Hollande civilise. Rousseai;
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 12 i 
 
 Venetians be an exception to the rule, they owe it, per- 
 haps, to their communication with the other Italians, most 
 of whose governments beget a dependence more than suf- 
 ficient for civilizing their manners. 
 
 It is difficult to pronounce any judgment concerning the 
 refinements of the ancient republics in this particular : But 
 I am apt to suspect, that the arts of conversation were not 
 brought so near to perfection among them as the arts of 
 writing and composition. The scurrility of the ancient 
 orators, in many instances, is quite shocking, and exceeds 
 all belief. Vanity too is often not a little offensive in au- 
 thors of those ages a ; as well as the common licentiousness 
 and immodesty of their style. Quicunque impudicus, adul- 
 ter, ganeo, vianu, venire, pene, bona patria laceraverat, 
 says Sallust in one of the gravest and most moral passages 
 of his historv. Namjuit ante Helenam Cunnus, teterrima 
 belli causa, is an expression of Horace, in tracing the ori- 
 gin of moral 2,ood and evil. Ovid and Lucretius 5 are al- 
 most as licentious in their style as Lord Rochester ; though 
 the former were fine gentlemen and delicate writers, and 
 the latter, from the corruptions of that court in which he 
 lived, seems to have thrown off all regard to shame and de- 
 cency. Juvenal inculcates modesty with great zeal ; but 
 sets a very bad example of it, if we consider the impudence 
 of his expressions. 
 
 a It is needless to cite Cicero or Pliny on this head; They are too much 
 noted. But one is a little surprised to find Arrian, a very grave, judicious 
 ■writer, interrupt the thread of his narration all of sudden, to tell his readers 
 that he himself is as eminent among the Greeks for eloquence, as Alexander 
 was for arms. Lib, i. 
 
 1 This poet (see lib. iv. 1 1SJ.) recommends a very extraordinary cure for 
 love, a:ul what one expects not to meet with in so elegant and philosophical 
 a poem. It seems to have been the original of some of Dr Swift's images. 
 The elegant Catullus and Ph^cdrus f.dl under the same censure.
 
 122 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 I shall also be bold to affirm, that among the ancients, 
 there was not much delicacy of breeding, or that polite de- 
 ference and respect, which civility obliges ns either to ex- 
 press or counterfeit towards the persons with whom we 
 converse. Cicero was certainly one of the finest gentle- 
 men of his age ; yet I must confess I have frequently 
 been shocked with the poor figure under which he repre- 
 sents his friend Atticus, in those dialogues where he him- 
 self is introduced as a speaker. That learned and virtuous 
 Roman, whose dignity, though he was only a private gen- 
 tleman, was inferior to that of no one in Rome, is there 
 shown in rather a more pitiful light than Philalethes's 
 friend in our modern dialogues. He is a humble admirer 
 of the orator, pays him frequent compliments, and receives 
 his instructions, with all the deference which a scholar 
 owes to his master a. Even Cato is treated in somewhat 
 of a cavalier manner in the dialogues De Finibus. 
 
 One of the most particular details of a real dialogue, 
 which we meet with in antiquity, is related by Polybius b ; 
 when Philip king of Macedon, a prince of wit and parts, 
 met with Titus Flamininus, one of the politest of the Ro- 
 mans, as we learn from Plutarch c , accompanied with am- 
 bassadors from almost all the Greek cities. The iEtolian 
 ambassador very abruptly tells the king, that he talked like 
 a fool or a madman (M$u*.) " That's evident, (says his 
 Majesty), even to a blind man ;" which was a raillery on 
 the blindness of his excellency. Yet all this did not pass the 
 usual bounds : For the conference was not disturbed ; and 
 Flamininus was very well diverted with these strokes of hu- 
 
 1 Att N'on milii videtur ad bcatc vivendum satis esse vivtutein. Mar. 
 At liercnle Bruto nico videtur; cujus ego judicium, pacetua dixerim, longt* 
 
 :.:i';|i01!0 UlO. TuSC. QlUCSt. lib. I: 
 
 s Lib. xvii. c In Vita Flamin.
 
 T1JE RISE OF ARTS AN' I) SCIENCES. 123 
 
 mour. At the end, when Philip craved a little time to 
 consult with his friends, of whom he had none pi'esent, 
 tlie Roman general, being desirous also to show his wit, as 
 the historian says, tells him, " That perhaps the reason 
 why he had none of his friends with him, was because he 
 had murdered them all ;" which was actually the case. 
 This unprovoked piece of rusticity is not condemned by the 
 historian j caused no farther resentment in Philip than 
 to excite a Sardonian smile, or what we call a grin ; and 
 hindered him not from renewing the conference next day. 
 Plutarch a , too, mentions this raillery amongst the witty 
 and agreeable sayings of Flamininus. 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey apologized for his famous piece of in- 
 solence, in saying, Ego et rex meus, / and my. /ring, by 
 observing, that this expression was conformable to the La- 
 tin idiom, and that a Roman always named himself before 
 the person to whom, or of whom, he spake. Yet this seems 
 to have been an instance of want of civility among that 
 people. The ancients made it a rule, that the person of 
 the greatest dignity should be mentioned first in the dis- 
 course; insomuch, that we find the spring of a quarrel 
 and jealousy between the Romans and iEtolians, to have 
 been a poet's naming the iEtolians before the Romans in 
 celebrating a victory gained by their united arms over 
 the Macedonians b . Thus Livia disgusted Tiberius by 
 placing her own name before his in an inscription c . 
 
 No advantages in this world arc pure and unmixed. In 
 like manner, as modern politeness, which is naturally so 
 ornamental, runs often into affectation and foppery, dis- 
 guise and insincerity ; so the ancient simplicity, which is 
 
 B Pint, in Vita Flamin. h I'uid. c Tacit. Ann. lib. iii. cap. 64,
 
 121 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 naturally so amiable and affecting, often degenerates into 
 rusticity and abuse, scurrility and obscenity. 
 
 If the superiority in politeness should be allowed to mo- 
 dem times, the modern notions of gallantry, the natural 
 produce of courts and monarchies, will probably be as- 
 signed as the causes of this refinement. No one denies 
 this invention to be modern a : But some of the more zea- 
 lous partisans of the ancients have asserted it to be foppish 
 and ridiculous, and a reproach, rather than a credit, to the 
 present age b . It may here be proper to examine this 
 question. 
 
 Nature has implanted in all living creatures an affection 
 between the sexes, which, even in the fiercest and most 
 rapacious animals, is not merely confined to the satisfac- 
 tion of the bodily appetite, but begets a friendship and mu- 
 tual sympathy, which runs through the whole tenor of their 
 lives. Nay, even in those species, where nature limits the 
 indulgence of this appetite to one season and to one ob- 
 ject, and forms a kind of marriage or association between 
 a single male and female, there is yet a visible complacency 
 and benevolence, which extends farther, and mutually sof- 
 tens the affections of the sexes towards each other. How 
 much more must this have place in man, where the con- 
 finement of the appetite is not natural, but either is derived 
 accidentally from some strong charm of love, or arises from 
 reflections on duty and convenience. Nothing, therefore, 
 can proceed less from affectation than the passion of gal- 
 lantry. It is natural in the highest degree. Art and edu- 
 cation, in the most elegant courts, make no more altera- 
 
 ■'• In the Self- Tormentor of Terence, Clinias, whenever he comes to town, 
 instead of waiting on his mistress, sends for her to come to him. 
 " Lord Shaftesbury. See his Moraliit?.
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 125 
 
 tion on it than on all the other laudable passions. They 
 onlv turn the mind more towards it; they refine it; they 
 polish it : and give it a proper grace and expression. 
 
 But rrallantry is as geueioas, as it is natural. To cor- 
 rect such gross vices, as lead us to commit real injury on 
 others, is the part of morals, and the object of the most or- 
 dinary education. Where that is not attended to, in some 
 decree, no human society can subsist. But, in order to 
 render conversation, and the intercourse of minds more 
 easy and agreeable, good manners have been invented, and 
 have carried the matter somewhat farther. Wherever 
 nature has given the mind a propensity to any vice, or to 
 any passion disagreeable to others, refined breeding has 
 taught men to throw the bias on the opposite side, and to 
 preserve, in all their behaviour, the appearance of senti- 
 ments different from those to which they naturally incline. 
 Thus, as we are commonly proud and selfish, and apt to 
 assume the preference above others, a polite man learns 
 to behave with deference towards his companions, and to 
 yield the superiority to them in all the common incidents 
 of society. In like manner, wherever a person's situation 
 may naturally beget any disagreeable suspicion in him, it 
 is the part of good manners to prevent it, by a studied dis- 
 play of sentiments, directly contrary to those of which he 
 is apt to be jealous. Thus, old men know their infirmities, 
 and naturally dread contempt from the youth : Hence 
 well-educated youth redouble the instances of respect and 
 deference to their elders. Strangers and foreigners are 
 without protection : Hence, in all polite countries, they 
 receive the highest civilities, and are entitled to the first 
 place in every company. A man is lord in his own fami- 
 ly ; and his guests are, in a manner, subject to his autho- 
 rity : Hence, he is always the lowest person in the compa-
 
 1 2G ESSAY XIV. 
 
 ny ; attentive to the wants of every one ; and giving him- 
 self all the trouble, in order to please, which may not be- 
 tray too visible an affectation, or impose too much constraint 
 on his quests 3 . Gallantrv is nothing but an instance of 
 the same generous attention. As nature has given mail 
 the superiority above woman y by endowing him with great- 
 er strength both of mind and body •, it is his part to alle- 
 viate that superiority) as much as possible, by the genero- 
 sity of his behaviour, and by a studied deference and com- 
 plaisance for all her inclinations and opinions. Barba- 
 rous nations display this superiority, by reducing their 
 females to the most abject slavery ; by confining them, by 
 beating them, by selling them, by killing them. But the 
 male sex, among a polite people, discover their authority in 
 a more generous, though not a less evident manner : by ci- 
 vility, by respect, by complaisance, and, in a word, by gal- 
 lantry. In good company, you need not ask, Who is the 
 master of the feast ? The man who sits in the lowest place, 
 and who is always industrious in helping every one, is cer- 
 tainly the person. We must either condemn all such in- 
 stances of generosity, as foppish and affected, or admit of 
 gallantry among the rest. The ancient Muscovites wed- 
 ded their wives with a whip, instead of a ring. The same 
 people, in their own houses, took always the precedency 
 above foreigners, even a foreign ambassadors. These two 
 instances of their generosity and politeness are much of a 
 piece. 
 
 * The frequent mention in ancient authors of that ill-bred custom of the 
 master of the family's eating better bread, or drinking better wine at table, 
 than he afforded his guests, is but an indifferent mark of the civility of those 
 ages. See Juvenal, sat. 5. ; Plin. lib. xiv. cap. 1:3. ; also Plinii Epist. Lu- 
 ciau de mercede conductis, Saturnalia, &c. There is scarcely any part of 
 Europe at present so uncivilized as to admit of such a custom. 
 
 h See Relation of three Embassies, bvthc Earl of Carlisle.
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 127 
 
 Gallantry is not less compatible with wisdom and pru- 
 dence, than with nature and generosity ; and, when under 
 proper regulations, contributes more than any other inven- 
 tion to the entertainment and improvement of the youth of 
 both sexes. Among every species of animals, nature has 
 founded on the love between the sexes their sweetest and 
 best enjoyment. But the satisfaction of the bodily appe- 
 tite is not alone sufficient to gratify the mind ; and, even 
 among brute creatures, we find that their play and dalli- 
 ance, and other expressions of fondness, form the great- 
 est part of the entertainment. In rational beings, we must 
 certainly admit the mind for a considerable share. Were 
 we to rob the feast of all its garniture of reason, discourse, 
 sympathy, friendship, and gaiety, what remains would 
 scarcely be worth acceptance, in the judgment of the truly 
 elegant and luxurious. 
 
 What better school for manners than the company of 
 virtuous women, where the mutual endeavour to please must 
 insensibly polish the mind, where the example of the fe- 
 male softness and modesty must communicate itself to their 
 admirers, and where the delicacy of that sex puts every 
 one on his guard, lest he give offence by any breach of 
 decency ? 
 
 Among the ancients, the character of the fair sex was 
 considered as altogether domestic; nor were they regard- 
 ed as part of the polite world, or of good company. This, 
 perhaps, is the true reason why the ancients have not left 
 us one piece of pleasantry that is excellent (unless one may 
 except the Banquet of Xenophon, and the Dialogues of 
 Lucian), though many of their serious compositions are al- 
 together inimitable. Horace condemns the coarse raille- 
 ries and cold jests of Plautus : But, though the most easy, 
 agreeable, and judicious writer in the world, is his owa
 
 128 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 talent for ridicule very striking or refined ? This, there- 
 fore, is one considerable improvement, which the polite 
 arts have received from gallantry, and from courts where 
 it first arose. 
 
 But, to return from this digression, I shall advance it as 
 & fourth observation on this subject, of the rise and pro- 
 gress of the arts and sciences, That lichen the arts and 
 sciences come to perfection in any state^from that moment 
 they naturally or rather necessarily decline^ and seldom or 
 never revive in that nation^ where they formerly four ished. 
 It must be confessed, that this maxim, though confor- 
 mable to experience, may at first sight be esteemed con- 
 trary to reason. If the natural genius of mankind be the 
 same in all ages, and in almost all countries (as seems to 
 be the truth), it must very much forward and cultivate this 
 genius, to be possessed of patterns in every art, which may 
 regulate the taste, and fix the objects of imitation. The 
 models left us by the ancients gave birth to all the arts 
 about 200 years ago, and have mightily advanced their 
 progress in every country of Europe : Why had they not 
 a like effect during the reign of Trajan and his succes- 
 sors, when they were much more entire, and were still 
 admired and studied by the whole world ? So late as the 
 emperor Justinian, the Poet, by way of distinction, was 
 understood, among the Greeks, to be Homer ; among the 
 Romans, Virgil. Such admirations still remained for these 
 divine genuises ; though no poet had appeared for many 
 centuries, who could justly pretend to have imitated them. 
 A man's genius is always, in the beginning of life, as much 
 unknown to himself as to others : and it is only after frequent 
 trials, attended with success, that he dares think himself 
 equal to tli jsc undertakings, in which those, who have suc- 
 ceeded, have fixed the admiration of mankind. If his own
 
 'HIE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 129 
 
 nation be already possessed of many models of eloquence, 
 he naturally compares his own juvenile exercises with these; 
 and being sensible of the great disproportion, is discou- 
 raged from any farther attempts, and never aims at a ri- 
 valship with those authors, whom he so much admires. 
 A noble emulation is the source of every excellence. Ad- 
 miration and modesty naturally extinguish this emulation. 
 And no one is so liable to an excess of admiration and 
 modesty as a truly great genius. 
 
 Next to emulation, the greatest cncourager of the noble 
 arts is praise and glory. A writer is animated with new 
 force, when he hears the applauses of the world for his for- 
 mer productions ; and, being roused by such a motive, he 
 often reaches a pitch of perfection, which is equally sur- 
 prising to himself and to his readers. But when the posts 
 of honour are all occupied, his first attempts are but cold- 
 ly received by the public ; being compared to produc- 
 tions, which are both in themselves more excellent, and 
 have already the advantage of an established reputation. 
 \\ ere Moliere and Corneille to bring upon the stage at 
 present their early productions, which were formerly so 
 well received, it would discourage the young poets, to see 
 the indifference and disdain of the public. The ignorance 
 of the age alone could have given admission to the Prince 
 of Tyre ; but it is to that we owe The Moor : Had Eve- 
 ry Mem in his Humour been rejected, we had never seen 
 Volponc. 
 
 Perhaps, it may not be for the advantage of any nation 
 to have the arts imported from their neighbours in too 
 great perfection. This extinguishes emulation, and sinks 
 the ardour of the generous youth. So many models of 
 Italian painting brought to England, instead of exciting 
 our artists, is the cause of their small progress in that no- 
 vo L. I. K
 
 130 LSSAY XIV. 
 
 ble art. The same, perhaps, was the case of Home, when 
 it received the arts from Greece. That multitude of po- 
 lite productions in the French language, dispersed all over 
 Germany and the North, hinder these nations from cul- 
 tivating their own language, and keep them still depen- 
 dent on their neighbours for those elegant entertainments. 
 
 It is true, the ancients had left us models in every kind 
 of writing, which are highly worthy of admiration. But 
 besides that they were written in languages known only 
 to the learned ; besides this, I say, the comparison is not 
 so perfect or entire between modern wits, and those who 
 lived in so remote an age. Had Waller been born in 
 Rome, during the reign of Tiberius, his first productions 
 had been despised, when compared to the finished odes of 
 Horace. But in this island the superiority of the Roman 
 poet diminished nothing from the fame of the English. 
 We esteemed ourselves sufficiently happy, that our climate 
 and language could produce but a faint copy of so excel- 
 lent an original. 
 
 In short, the arts and sciences, like some plants, require 
 a fresh soil ; and however rich the land may be, and how- 
 ever you may recruit it by art or care, it will never, when 
 once exhausted, produce any thing that is perfect or finish- 
 ed in the kind.
 
 ESSAY XV. 
 
 THE EPICUREAN 
 
 It is a great mortification to the vanity of man, that his 
 utmost art and industry can never equal the meanest of 
 Nature's productions, either for beauty or value. Art is 
 only the under-workman, and is employed to give a few 
 strokes of embellishment to those pieces which come from 
 the hand of the master. Some of the drapery may be of 
 his drawing, but he is not allowed to touch the principal 
 figure. Art may make a suit of clothes, but nature must 
 produce a man. 
 
 Even in those productions commonly denominated works 
 of art, we find that the noblest of the kind are beholden 
 for their chief beauty to the force and happy influence of 
 nature. To the native enthusiasm of the poets, we owe 
 whatever is admirable in their productions. The greatest 
 genius, where nature at any time fails him, (for she is not 
 equal,) throws aside the lyre, and hopes not, from the 
 rules of art, to reach that divine harmony, which must 
 proceed from her inspiration alone. How poor are those 
 
 r - Or, The man of elegance and pleasure The intention of this and the 
 three following Essays is not so much to explain accurately the sentiments 
 of the ancient sects of philosophy, as to deliver the sentiments of sects that 
 naturally form themselves in the world, and entertain different ideas of hu- 
 man life and happiness. I have given each of them the name of the phM»- 
 k<>phical sect to which it hears the greatest affinity.
 
 132 ESSAY XV. 
 
 songs, where a happy flow of fancy has not furnished ma- 
 terials for art to embellish and refine ! 
 
 But of all the fruitless attempts of art, no one is' so ridi- 
 culous, as that which the severe philosophers have under- 
 taken, the producing of an artificial happiness, and making 
 us be pleased by rules of reason, and by reflection. Why 
 did none of them claim the reward, which Xerxes promised 
 to him, who should invent a new pleasure ? Unless, per- 
 haps, they invented so many pleasures for their own use, 
 that they despised riches, and stood in no need of any en- 
 joyments, which the rewards of that monarch could pro- 
 cure them. I am apt, indeed, to think, that they were 
 not willing to furnish the Persian court with a new plea- 
 sure, by presenting it with so new and unusual an object 
 of ridicule. Their speculations, when confined to theory, 
 and gravely delivered in the schools of Greece, might ex- 
 cite admiration in their ignorant pupils ; but the attempt- 
 ing to reduce such principles to practice would soon have 
 betrayed their absurdity. 
 
 You pretend to make me happy by reason, and by rules 
 of art. You must then create me anew by rules, of art, 
 for on my original frame and structure does my happiness 
 dtpend. But you want power to effect this, anil skill too, 
 I am afraid; nor can I entertain a less opinion of nature's 
 wisdom than of yours ; and let her conduct the machine 
 which she has so wisely framed, I find that I should only 
 spoil it by tampering. 
 
 To what purpose should I pretend to regulate, refine, 
 or invigorate any of those springs or principles which na- 
 ture has implanted in me ? Is this the road by which I 
 must reach happiness ? But happiness implies ease, con- 
 tentment, repose, and pleasure; not watchfulness, care, 
 and fatigue. The health of mv body consists in the fa-
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 133 
 
 uiity with which all its operations are performed. The 
 stomach digests the aliments; the heart circulates the 
 blood ; the brain separates and refines the spirits j and all 
 this without my concerning myself in the matter. When 
 by my will alone I can stop the blood, as it runs with im- 
 petuosity along its canals, then may I hope to change the 
 course of my sentiments and passions. In vain should I 
 strain my faculties, and endeavour to receive pleasure from 
 an object, which is not fitted by nature to affect my organs 
 with delight. I may give myself pain by my fruitless en- 
 deavours, but shall never reach any pleasure. 
 
 Away then with all those vain pretences of making our- 
 selves happy within ourselves, of feasting on our own 
 thoughts, of being satisfied with the consciousness of well- 
 doing, and of despising all assistance and all supplies from 
 external objects. This is the voice of pride, not of na- 
 ture. And it were well if even this pride could support 
 itself, and communicate a real inward pleasure, however 
 melancholy or severe. But this impotent pride can do no 
 more than regulate the outside,, and with infinite pains and 
 attention compose the language and countenance to a phi- 
 losophical dignity, in order to deceive the ignorant vulgar. 
 The heart, meanwhile, is empty of all enjoyment, and the 
 mind, unsupported by its proper objects, sinks into the 
 deepest sorrow and dejection. Miserable, but vain mortal ! 
 Thy mind be happy within itself! With what resources is 
 it endowed to fill so immense a void, and supply the place 
 of all thy bodily senses and faculties? Can thy head sub- 
 sist without thy other members ? In such a situation, 
 
 What foolish figure must it make ? 
 Do nothing else but sleep and ake. 
 
 Into such a lethargy, or such a melancholy, must thy
 
 134; ESSAY XV. 
 
 mind be plunged, when deprived of foreign occupations 
 and enjoyments. 
 
 Keep me, therefore, no longer in this violent constraint. 
 Confine me not within myself, but point out to me those 
 objects and pleasures which afford the chief enjoyment. 
 But why do I apply to you, proud and ignorant sages, to 
 shew me the road to happiness ? Let me consult my own 
 passions and inclinations. In them must I read the dic- 
 tates of nature, not in your frivolous discourses. 
 
 But see, propitious to my wishes, the divine, the amiable 
 Pleasure a , the supreme love of Gods and men, advances 
 towards me. At her approach, my heart beats with ge- 
 nial heat, and every sense and every faculty is dissolved in 
 joy : while she pours around me all the embellishments of 
 the spring, and all the treasures of the autumn. The me- 
 lody of her voice charms my ears with the softest music, 
 as she invites me to partake of those delicious fruits, which, 
 with a smile that diffuses a glory on the heavens and the 
 earth, she presents to me. The sportive cupids who at- 
 tend her, or fan me with their odoriferous wings, or pour 
 on my head the most fragrant oils, or offer me their spark- 
 ling nectar in golden goblets ; O ! for ever let me spread 
 my limbs on this bed of roses, and thus, thus feel the de- 
 licious moments, with soft and downy steps, glide along. 
 But cruel chance ! Whither do you fly so fast ? Why do 
 my ardent wishes, and that load of pleasures under which 
 you labour, rather hasten than retard your unrelenting 
 pace. Suffer me to enjoy this soft repose, after all my fa- 
 tigues in search of happiness. Suffer me to satiate myself 
 with these delicacies, after the pains of so long and so 
 foolish an abstinence. 
 
 * l)ia Voluptas. Lucret.
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 135 
 
 But it will not do. The roses have lost their hue, the 
 fruit its flavour, and that delicious wine, whose fumes so 
 late intoxicated all my senses with such delight, now soli- 
 cits in vain the sated palate. Pleasure smiles at my lan- 
 guor. She beckons her sister, Virtue, to come to her as- 
 sistance. The gay, the frolic Virtue, observes the call, and 
 brings along the whole troop of my jovial friends. Wel- 
 come, thrice welcome, my ever dear companions, to these 
 shady bowers, and to this luxurious repast. Your pre- 
 sence has restored to the rose its hue, and to the fruit its 
 flavour. The vapours of this sprightly nectar now again 
 ply around my heart ; while you partake of my delights, 
 and discover, in your cheerful looks, the pleasure which 
 you receive from my happiness and satisfaction. The like 
 do I receive from yours ; and, encouraged by your joyous 
 presence, shall again renew the feast, with which, from too 
 much enjoyment, my senses are well nigh sated, while 
 the mind kept not pace with the body, nor afforded relief 
 to her overburdened partner. 
 
 In our cheerful discourses, better than in the formal 
 reasoning of the schools, is true wisdom to be found. In 
 our friendly endearments, better than in the hollow debates 
 of statesmen and pretended patriots, does true virtue dis- 
 play itself. Forgetful of the past, secure of the future, let 
 us here enjoy the present ; and while we yet possess a being, 
 let us fix some good, beyond the power of fate or fortune. 
 To-morrow will bring its own pleasures along with it : 
 Or, should it disappoint our fond wishes, we shall at least 
 enjoy the pleasure of reflecting on the pleasures of to-day. 
 
 Fear not, my friends, that the barbarous dissonance of 
 Bacchus, and of his revellers, should break in upon this 
 entertainment, and confound us with their turbulent and 
 clamorous pleasures. The sprightly muses wait around ;
 
 13G ESSAY XV. 
 
 and with their charming symphony, sufficient to soften the 
 wolves and tygers of the savage desert, inspire a soft joy 
 into every bosom. Peace, harmony, and concord, reign 
 in this retreat ; nor is the silence ever broken but by the 
 music of our songs, or the cheerful accents of our friendly 
 voices. 
 
 But hark ! the favourite of the muses, the gentle Damon 
 strikes the lyre ; and while he accompanies its harmonious 
 notes with his more harmonious song, he inspires us with 
 the same happy debauch of fancy, by which he is himself 
 transported. " Ye happy youths," he sings, " Ye fa- 
 voured of Heaven a , while the wanton spring pours upon 
 you all her blooming honours, let not glory seduce you, 
 with her delusive blaze, to pass in perils and dangers this 
 delicious season, this prime of life. Wisdom points out to 
 you the road to pleasure : Nature too beckons you to fol- 
 low her in that smooth and flowery path. Will you shut 
 your ears to their commanding voice ? Will you harden 
 your heart to their soft allurements? Oh, deluded mor- 
 tals ! thus to lose your youth, thus to throw away so in- 
 valuable a present, to trifle with so perishing a blessing. 
 Contemplate well your recompence. Consider that glory, 
 which so allures your proud hearts, and seduces you with 
 your own praises. It is an echo, a dream, nay the sha- 
 dow of a dream, dissipated by every wind, and lost by 
 every contrary breath of the ignorant and ill-judging mul- 
 titude. You fear not that even death itself shall ravish it 
 from you. But behold ! while you are yet alive, calumny 
 bereaves you of it; ignorance neglects it; nature enjoys it 
 
 a An imitation of the Syrens song in Tasso : 
 " O Giovinctti, mentre Apriio el Maggio 
 " V ammantan di noriie ct vc-rdc spoglie," &c. 
 
 Giuresalenime liberata, Canto 1 J
 
 THE EPICUREAN, lit 
 
 not •, fancy alone, renouncing every pleasure, receives this 
 airy recompence, empty and unstable as herself." 
 
 Thus the hours pass unperceived along, and lead in their 
 wanton train ail the pleasures of sense, and all the joys of 
 harmony and friendship. Smiling innocence closes the 
 procession ; and, while she presents. herself to our ravished 
 eyes, she embellishes the whole scene, and renders the view 
 of these pleasures as transporting, after they have past us, 
 as when, with laughing countenances, they were yet ad- 
 vancing towards us. 
 
 But the sun has sunk below the horizon j and darkness, 
 stealing silently upon us, has now buried all nature in an 
 universal shade. " Rejoice my friends, continue your re- 
 past, or change it for soft repose. Though absent, your 
 joy or your tranquillity shall still be mine." But whither 
 do you go ? Or what new pleasures call you from our so- 
 ciety ? Is there aught agreeable without your friends ? And- 
 ean aught please in which we partake not ? " Yes, my 
 friends ; the joy which I now seek, admits not of your parti- 
 cipation. Here alone I wish your absence : xlnd here 
 alone can I find a sufficient compensation for the loss of 
 your society." 
 
 But I have not advanced far through the shades of the 
 thick wood, which spreads a double night around me, ere, 
 methinks, I perceive through the gloom the charming Cse- 
 lia, the mistress of my wishes, who wanders impatient 
 through the grove, and, preventing the appointed hour, si- 
 lently chides my tardy steps. But the joy, which she re- 
 ceives from my presence, best pleads my excuse ; and dis- 
 sipating every anxious and every angry thought, leaves 
 room for nought but mutual joy and rapture. With what 
 words, my fair one, shall I express my tenderness, or de- 
 scribe the emotions which now warm my transported bo-
 
 13S ESSAY X\. 
 
 som ! Words are too faint to describe my love ; and if, 
 alas ! you feel not the same flame within you, in vain shall 
 I endeavour to convey to you a just conception of it. But 
 your every word and every motion suffice to remove this 
 doubt ; and while they express your passion, serve also to 
 inflame mine. How amiable this solitude, this silence, 
 this darkness ! No objects now importune the ravished soul. 
 The thought, the sense, all full of nothing but our mutual 
 happiness, wholly possess the mind, and convey a plea- 
 sure, which deluded mortals vainly seek for in every other 
 
 enjoyment. 
 
 But why does your bosom heave with these sighs, while 
 tears bathe your glowing cheeks ? Why distract your heart 
 with such vain anxieties? Why so often ask me, How long 
 my love shall yet endure ? Alas! my Caelia, can I resolve 
 this question ? Do I know how long my life shall yet en- 
 dure ? But does this also disturb your tender breast ? And 
 is the image of our frail mortality for ever present with 
 you, to throw a damp on your gayest hours, and poison 
 even those joys which love inspires? Consider rather, that 
 if life be frail, if youth be transitory, we should well em- 
 ploy the present moment, and lose no part of so perishable 
 an existence. Yet a little moment, and these shall be no 
 more. We shall be, as if we had never been. Not a me- 
 mory of us be left upon earth ; and even the fabulous 
 shades below will not afford us a habitation. Our fruitless 
 anxieties, our vain projects, our uncertain speculations, 
 shall all be swallowed up and lost. Our present doubts, 
 concerning the original cause of all things, must never, 
 alas ! be resolved. This alone we may be certain of, that 
 if any governing mind preside, he must be pleased to see us 
 fulfil the ends of our being, and enjoy that pleasure lor 
 v- hich alone we were created. Let this reflection give ease
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 139 
 
 to your anxious thoughts ; but render not your joys too 
 smous, by dwelling for ever upon it. It is sufficient, once 
 to be acquainted with this philosophy, in order to give an 
 unbounded loose to love and jollity, and remove all the 
 scruples of a vain superstition : But while youth and pas- 
 sion, my fuir one, prompt our eager desires, we must find 
 gayer subjects of discourse, to intermix with these amorous 
 caresses.
 
 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 THE STOIC a , 
 en 
 
 J. here is this obvious and material difference in the con- 
 duct of nature, with regard to men and other animals, 
 that, having endowed the former with a sublime celestial 
 spirit, ana having given him an affinity with superior 
 beings, she allows not such noble faculties to lie lethargic 
 or idle ; but urges him by necessity to employ, on eve- 
 ry emergence, his utmost art and industry. Brute-crea- 
 tures have many of their necessities supplied by nature, 
 being clothed and armed by this beneficent parent of all 
 things : And where their own industry is requisite on any 
 occasion, nature, by implanting instincts, still supplies them 
 with the art, and guides them to their good by her unerr- 
 ing precepts. But man, exposed naked and indigent to 
 the rude elements, rises slowly from that helpless state, by 
 the care and vigilance of his parents; and, having attained 
 his utmost growth and perfection, reaches only a capacity 
 of subsisting, by his own care and vigilance. Every thing 
 is sold to skill and labour ; and where nature furnishes the 
 materials, they are still rude and unfinished, till industry, 
 ever active and intelligent, refines them from their rude 
 state, and fits them for human use and convenience. 
 
 * Or the man of action and virtue.
 
 THE STOIC. Hi 
 
 Acknowledge, therefore, O man ! the beneficence of 
 nature ; for she has given thee that intelligence which sup- 
 plies all thy necessities. But let not indolence, under the 
 false appearance of gratitude, persuade thee to rest con- 
 tented with her present*?. Wouldst thou return to the raw- 
 herbage for thy food, to the open sky for thy covering, 
 and to stones and clubs for thy defence against the raven- 
 ous animals of the desert? Then return also to thy savage 
 manners, to thy timorous superstition, to thy brutal igno- 
 rance ; and sink thyself below those animals, whose condi- 
 tion thou admirest, and wouldst so fondly imitate. 
 
 Tin kind parent, Nature, having given thee art and in- 
 telligence, has filled the whole globe with materials to em- 
 ploy these talents : Harken to her voice, which so plainly 
 tells thee, that thou thyself shouldst also be the object of 
 thy industry, and that by art and attention alone thou 
 canst acquire that ability which will raise thee to thy pro- 
 per station in the universe. Behold this artisan who con- 
 verts a rude and shapeless stone into a noble metal ; and, 
 moulding that metal by his cunning hands, creates, as it 
 were by magic, every weapon for his defence, and every 
 utensil for his convenience. He has not this skill from 
 nature: Use and practice have taught it him : and if thou 
 wouldst emulate his success, thou must follow his laborious 
 footsteps. 
 
 But while thou ambitiously aspirest to perfecting thy 
 bodily powers and faculties, wouldst thou meanly neglect 
 thy mind, and, from a preposterous sloth, leave it still rude 
 and uncultivated, as it came from the hands of nature ? 
 Far be such folly and negligence from every rational beino-. 
 If nature has been frugal in her gifts and endowments, 
 there is the more need of art to supply her defects. If she 
 ha^ been generous and libera), know that she still expects
 
 142 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 industry and application on our part, and revenges herself 
 in proportion to our negligent ingratitude. The richest 
 genius, like the most fertile soil, when uncultivated, shoots 
 up into the rankest weeds ; and instead of vines and olives 
 for the pleasure and use of man, produces, to its slothful 
 owner, the most abundant crop of poisons. 
 
 The great end of all human industry, is the attainment 
 of happiness. For this were arts invented, sciences culti- 
 vated, laws ordained, and societies modelled, by the most 
 profound wisdom of patriots and legislators. Even the 
 lonely savage, who lies exposed to the inclemency of the 
 elements, and the fury of wild beasts, forgets not, for a mo- 
 ment, this grand object of his being. Ignorant as he is of 
 every art of life, he still keeps in view the end of all those 
 arts, and eagerly seeks for felicity amidst that darkness 
 with which he is environed. But as much as the wildest 
 savage is inferior to the polished citizen, who, under the 
 protection of laws, enjoys every convenience which indus- 
 try has invented ; so much is this citizen himself inferior 
 to the man of virtue, and the true philosopher, who go- 
 verns his appetites, subdues his passions, and has learned, 
 from reason, to set a just value on every pursuit and en- 
 joyment. For is there an art and apprenticeship neces- 
 sary for every other attainment ? And is there no art of 
 life, no rule, no precepts to direct us in this principal con- 
 cern ? Can no particular pleasure be attained without skill ; 
 and can the whole be regulated, without reflection or in- 
 telligence, by the blind guidance of appetite and instinct ? 
 Surely then no mistakes are ever committed in this affair, 
 but every man, however dissolute and negligent, proceeds 
 in the pursuit of happiness with as unerring a motion, as 
 that which the celestial bodies observe, when conducted by 
 the hand of the Almighty, they roll along the ethereal
 
 THE STOIC. 143 
 
 plains. But if mistakes be often, be inevitably committed, 
 let us register these mistakes ; let us consider their causes ; 
 let us weigh their importance-, let us inquire for their re- 
 medies. When from this we have fixed all the rules of 
 conduct, we are philosophers. When we have reduced 
 these rules to practice, we are sages. 
 
 Like many subordinate artists, employed to form the se- 
 veral wheels and springs of a machine ; such are those who 
 excel in all the particular arts of life. He is the master 
 workman who puts those several parts together ; moves 
 them according to just harmony and proportion ; and pro- 
 duces true felicity as the result of their conspiring order. 
 
 While thou hast such an alluring object in view, shall 
 that labour and attention, requisite to the attainment of 
 thy end, ever seem burdensome and intolerable ? Know, 
 that this labour itself is the chief ingredient of the felicity 
 to which thou aspirest, and that every enjoyment soon be- 
 comes insipid and distasteful, when not acquired by fatigue 
 and industry. See the hardy hunters rise from their 
 downv couches, shake off' the slumbers which still weigh 
 down their heavy eye-lids, and ere Aurora has yet covered 
 the heavens with her flaming mantle, hasten to the forest. 
 They leave behind, in their own houses, and in the neigh- 
 bouring plains, animals of every kind, whose flesh furnishes 
 the most delicious fare, and which offer themselves to the 
 fatal stroke. Laborious man disdains so easy a purchase, 
 He seeks for a prey, which hides itself from his search, or 
 flies from his pursuit, or defends itself from his violence. 
 Having exerted in the chase every passion of the mind, 
 and every member of the body, he then finds the charms 
 of repose, and with joy compares his pleasures to those of 
 his engaging labours. 
 
 And can vigorous industry give pleasure to the pursuit
 
 144 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 even of the most worthless prey, which frequently escapes 
 our toils? And cannot the same industry render the culti- 
 vating of our mind, the moderating of our passions, the 
 enlightening of our reason, an agreeable occupation j while 
 we are every day sensible of our progress, and behold our 
 inward features and countenance brightening incessantly 
 with new charms ? Begin by curing yourself of this lethar- 
 gic indolence ; the task is not difficult : Ycu need but 
 taste the sweets of honest labour. Proceed to learn the 
 just value of every pursuit ; long study is not requisite: 
 Compare, though but for once, the mind to the body, vir- 
 tue to fortune, and glory to pleasure. You will then per- 
 ceive the advantages of industry : You will then be sensible 
 what are the proper objects of your industry. 
 
 In vain do you seek repose from becis of roses : In vain 
 do you hope for enjoyment from the most delicious wines 
 and fruits. Your indolence itself becomes a fatigue; your 
 pleasure itself creates disgust. The mind, unexercised, 
 finds every delight insipid and loathsome; and ere yet the 
 body, full of noxious humours, feels the torment of its 
 multiplied diseases, your nobler part is sensible of the in- 
 vading poison, and seeks in vain to relieve its anxiety by 
 new pleasures, which .-till augment the fatal malady. 
 
 I need not tell you, that, by this eager pursuit of plea- 
 sure, you more and more expose yourself to fortune and 
 accidents, and rivet your affections on external objects, 
 which chance may, in a moment, ravish from you. i shall 
 suppose that your indulgent stars favour you still with the 
 enjoyment of your riches and possessions. I prove to you, 
 that even in the midst of your luxurious pleasures, you are 
 unhappy; and that, by too much indulgence, you are in- 
 capable of enjoying what prosperous fortune still allows 
 you to possess. J
 
 THE STOIC. 14.5 
 
 But surely the instability of fortune is a consideration 
 not to be overlooked or neglected. Happiness cannot pos- 
 sibly exist where there is no security ; and security can 
 have no place where fortune has any dominion. Though 
 that unstable deity should not exert her rage against you, 
 the dread of it would still torment you ; would disturb your 
 slumbers, haunt your dreams, and throw a damp on the 
 jollity of your most delicious banquets. 
 
 The temple of wisdom is seated on a rock, above the 
 rage of the fighting elements, and inaccessible to all the 
 malice of man. The rolling thunder breaks below ; and 
 those more terrible instruments of human fury reach not 
 to so sublime a height. The sage,, while he breathes that 
 serene air, looks down with pleasure, mixed with compas- 
 sion, on the errors of mistaken mortals, who blinaiy seek 
 for the true path of life, and pursue riches, nobility, ho- 
 nour, or power, for genuine felicity. The greater part he 
 beholds disappointed of their fond wishes : Some lament, 
 that having once possessed the object of their desires, it is 
 ravished from them by envious fortune; and all complain, 
 that even their own vows, though granted, cannot give 
 them happiness, or relieve the anxiety of their distracted 
 minds. 
 
 But does the sage always preserve himself in this philo- 
 sophical indifference, and rest contented with lamenting 
 the miseries of mankind, without ever employing himself 
 for their relief? Does he constantly indulge this severe 
 wisdom, which, by pretending to elevate him above human 
 accidents, does in reality harden his heart, and render him 
 careless of the interests of mankind, and of society ? No; 
 he knows that in this sullen Apathy neither true wisdom 
 nor true happiness can be found. He feels too strongly 
 the charm of the social affections, ever to counteract so 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 sweet, so natural, so virtuous a propensity. Even when, 
 bathed in tears, he laments the miseries of the human race, 
 of his country, of his friends, and unable to give succour, 
 can only relieve them by compassion ; he yet rejoices in the 
 generous disposition, and feels a satisfaction superior to 
 that of the most indulged sense. So engaging are the sen- 
 timents of humanity, that they brighten up the very face 
 of sorrow, and operate like the sun, which, shining on a 
 dusky cloud or falling rain, paints on them the most glo- 
 rious colours which are to be found in the whole circle of 
 nature. 
 
 But it is not here alone that the social virtues display 
 their energy. With whatever ingredient you mix them, 
 they are still predominant. As sorrow cannot overcome 
 them, so neither can sensual pleasure obscure them. The 
 joys of love, however tumultuous, banish not the tender 
 sentiments of sympathy and affection. They even derive 
 their chief influence from that generous passion ; and when 
 presented alone, afford nothing to the unhappy mind but 
 lassitude and disgust. Behold this sprightly debauchee, 
 who professes a contempt of all other pleasures but those 
 of wine and jollity : Separate him from his companions, 
 like a spark from a fire, where before it contributed to the 
 general blaze : His alacrity suddenly extinguishes; and, 
 though surrounded with every other means of delight, he 
 lothcs the sumptuous banquet, and prefers even the most 
 abstracted study and speculation, as more agreeable and 
 entertaining. 
 
 But the social passions never afford such transporting 
 pleasures, or make so glorious an appearance in the eyes 
 both of Qod and man, as when, shaking off every earthly 
 mixture, they associate themselves with the sentiments of 
 virtue, and prompt us to laudable and worthy actions. As
 
 THE STOIC. 147 
 
 harmonious colours mutually give and receive a lustre by 
 their friendly union ; so do these ennobling sentiments of 
 the human mind. See the triumph of nature in parental 
 affection ! What selfish passion ; what sensual delight is a 
 match for it; whether a man exults in the prosperity and 
 virtue of his offspring, or flies to their succour, through the 
 most threatening and tremendous dangers ? 
 
 Proceed still in purifying the generous passion, you will 
 still the more admire its shining glories. What charms 
 are there in the harmony of minds, and in a friendship 
 founded on mutual esteem and gratitude ! What satisfac- 
 tion in relieving the distressed, in comforting the afflicted, 
 in raising thn fallen, and in stopping the career of cruel for- 
 tune, or of more cruel man, in their insults over the good 
 and virtuous ! But what supreme joy in the victories over 
 vice as well as misery, when, by virtuous example or wise 
 exhortation, our fellow-creatures are taught to govern their 
 passions, reform their vices, and subdue their worst ene- 
 mies, which inhabit within their own bosoms ! 
 
 But these objects are still too limited for the human 
 mind, which, being of celestial origin, swells with the di- 
 vinest and most enlarged affections, and, carrying its at- 
 tention beyond kindred and acquaintance, extends its be- 
 nevolent wishes to the most distant posterity. It views li- 
 berty and laws as the source of human happiness, and de- 
 votes itself, with the "utmost alacrity, to their guardianship 
 and protection. Toils, dangers, death itself, carry their 
 charms, when we brave them for the public good, and en- 
 noble that being, which we generously sacrifice for the in- 
 terests of our country. Happy the man whom indulgent 
 fortune allows to pay to virtue what he owes to nature, and 
 to make a generous gift of what must otherwise be ravish- 
 ed from him bv cruel necessity.
 
 14S ESSAY XVI. 
 
 In the true sage and patriot are united whatever can dis- 
 tinguish human nature, or elevate mortal man to a resem- 
 blance with the Divinity. The softest benevolence, the 
 most undaunted resolution, the tenderest sentiments, the 
 most sublime love of virtue, all these animate successively 
 his transported bosom. What satisfaction, when he looks 
 within, to find the most turbulent passions tuned to just 
 harmony and concord, and every jarring sound banished 
 from this enchanting music ! If the contemplation, even of 
 inanimate beauty, is so delightful ; if it ravishes the senses, 
 even when the fair form is foreign to us : what must be 
 the effects of moral beauty ? and what influence must it 
 have, when it embellishes our own mind, and is the result 
 of our own reflection and industry ? 
 
 But where is the reward of virtue P And what recompence 
 has Nature provided for such important sacrifices, as those of 
 life and fortune y which we must often make to it ? Oh, sons 
 of earth ! Are ye ignorant of the value of this celestial mis- 
 tress ? And do ye meanly inquire for her portion, when ye 
 observe her genuine charms ? But know, that Nature has 
 been indulgent to human weakness, and has not left this 
 favourite child naked and unendowed. She has provided 
 virtue with the richest dowry ; but being careful, lest the 
 allurements of interest should engage such suitors, as were 
 insensible of the native worth of so divine a beauty, she has 
 wisely provided, that this dowry can have no charms but 
 in the eyes of those who are already transported with the 
 love of virtue. Glory is the portion of virtue, the sweet 
 reward of honourable toils, the triumphant crown which 
 covers the thoughtful head of the disinterested patriot, or 
 the dusty brow of the victorious warrior. Elevated by so 
 sublime a prize, the man of virtue looks down with con- 
 tempt on all the allurements of pleasure, and all the me-
 
 THE STOIC. 149 
 
 naces of danger. Death itself loses its terrors, when he 
 considers, that its dominion extends only over a part of 
 him, and that, in spite of death and time, the rage of the 
 elements, and the endless vicissitude of human affairs, he 
 is assured of an immortal fame among all the sons of men. 
 There surely is a Being who presides over the universe ; 
 and who, with infinite wisdom and power, has reduced the 
 jarring elements into just order and proportion. Let spe- 
 culative reasoners dispute, how far this beneficent Being 
 extends his care, and whether he prolongs our existence 
 beyond the grave, in order to bestow on virtue its just re- 
 ward, and render it fully triumphant. The man of morals, 
 without deciding any thing on so dubious a subject, is sa- 
 tisfied with the portion marked out to him by the Supreme 
 Disposer of all things. Gratefully he accepts of that far- 
 ther reward prepared for him ; but if, disappointed, he 
 thinks not virtue an empty name ; but justly esteeming it 
 its own reward, he gratefully acknowledges the bounty of 
 his Creator, who, by calling him into existence, has there- 
 by afforded him an opportunity of once acquiring so inva- 
 luable a possession.
 
 ESSAY XVII. 
 
 THE PLATONIST a . 
 
 J o some philosophers it appears matter of surprise, that 
 all mankind, possessing the same nature, and being en- 
 dowed with the same faculties, should yet differ so widely 
 in their pursuits and inclinations, and that one should ut- 
 terly condemn what is fondly sought after by another. To 
 some it appears matter of still more surprise, that a man 
 should differ so widely from himself at different times; and, 
 after possession, reject with disdain what, before, was the 
 object of all his vows and wishes. To me this feverish un- 
 certainty and irresolution, in human conduct, seems alto- 
 gether unavoidable ; nor can a rational soul, made for the 
 contemplation of the Supreme Being, and of his works, 
 ever enjoy tranquillity or satisfaction, while detained in the 
 ignoble pursuits of sensual pleasure or popular applause. 
 The Divinity is a boundless ocean of bliss and glory : Hu- 
 man minds are smaller streams, which, arising at first from 
 this ocean, seek still, amid all their wanderings, to return 
 to it, and to lose themselves in that immensity of perfec- 
 tion. When checked in this natural course by vice or fol- 
 ly, they become furious and enraged ; and, swelling to a 
 torrent, do then spread horror and devastation on the 
 neighbouring plains. 
 
 a Or, the man of contemplation, and philosopldcal devotion.
 
 THE PLATONIST. 151 
 
 In vain, by pompous phrase and passionate expression, 
 each recommends his own pursuit, and invites the credulous 
 hearers to an imitation of his life and manners. The heart 
 belies the countenance, and sensibly feels, even amid the 
 highest success, the unsatisfactory nature of all those plea- 
 sures which detain it from its true object. I examine the 
 voluptuous man before enjoyment ; I measure the vehe- 
 mence of his desire, and the importance of his object ; I 
 find that all his happiness proceeds only from that hurry 
 of thought, which takes him from himself, and turns his 
 view from his guilt and misery. I consider him a moment 
 after ; he has now enjoyed the pleasure, which he fondly 
 sought after. The sense of his guilt and misery returns 
 upon him with double anguish : His mind tormented with 
 fear and remorse ; his body depressed with disgust and 
 satiety. 
 
 But a more august, at least a more haughty personage, 
 presents himself boldly to our censure ; and, assuming the 
 title of a philosopher and man of morals, offers to submit 
 to the most rigid examination. He challenges, with a vi- 
 sible, though concealed impatience, our approbation and 
 applause ; and seems offended, that we should hesitate a 
 moment before we break out into admiration of his virtue. 
 Seeing this impatience, I hesitate still more ; I begin to 
 examine the motives of his seeming virtue : But, behold ! 
 ere I can enter upon this inquiry, he flings himself from 
 me ; and, addressing his discourse to that crowd of heed- 
 less auditors, fondly amuses them by his magnificent pre- 
 tensions. 
 
 O philosopher ! thy wisdom is vain, and thy virtue un- 
 profitable. Thou seekest the ignorant applauses of men, 
 not the solid reflections of thy own conscience, or the more
 
 152 ESSAY XVII. 
 
 solid approbation of that Being, who, with one regard of 
 his all-seeing eye, penetrates the universe. Thou surely 
 art conscious of the hollowness of thy pretended probity ; 
 whilst calling thyself a citizen, a son, a friend, thou for- 
 gettest thy higher sovereign, thy true father, thy greatest 
 benefactor. Where is the adoration due to infinite per- 
 fection, whence every thing good and valuable is derived ! 
 Where is the gratitude owing to thy Creator, who called 
 thee forth from nothing, who placed thee in all these rela- 
 tions to thy fellow-creatures, and requiring thee to fulfil 
 the duty of each relation, forbids thee to neglect what thou 
 owest to himself, the most perfect being, to whom thou 
 art connected oy the closest tie? 
 
 But thou art thyself thy own idol. Thou worshippest 
 thy imaginary perfections ; or rather, sensible of thy real 
 imperfections, thou seekcst only to deceive the world, and 
 to please thy fancy, by multiplying thy ignorant admirers. 
 Thus, not content with neglecting what is most excellent 
 in the universe, thou desirest to substitute in his place 
 what is most vile and contemptible. 
 
 Consider ail the works of men's hands, all the inventions 
 of human wit, in which thou affectest so nice a discern- 
 ment. Thou wilt find, that the most perfect production 
 still proceeds from the most perfect thought, and that it is 
 mind alone which we admire, while we bestow our ap- 
 plause on the graces of a well-proportioned statue, or the 
 symmetry of a noble pile. The statuary, the architect, 
 come still in view, and makes us reflect on the beauty of 
 his art and contrivance, which, from a heap of unformed 
 matter, could extract such expressions and proportions. 
 This superior beauty of thought and intelligence thou thy- 
 self acknowledgest, while thou invitest us to contemplate,
 
 THE PLATONIST. 153 
 
 in thy conduct, the harmony of affections, the dignity of 
 sentiments, and all those graces of a mind which chiefly 
 merit our attention. But why stoppest thou short ? Seest 
 thou nothing farther that is valuable ? Amid thy rapturous 
 applauses of beauty and order, art thou still ignorant 
 where is to bo found the most consummate beauty, the 
 most perfect order ? Compare the works of art with those 
 of nature. The one are but imitations of the other. The 
 nearer art approaches to nature, the more perfect is it 
 esteemed. But still, how wide are its nearest approaches, 
 and what an immense interval may be observed between 
 them ? Art copies only the outside of nature, leaving the 
 inward and more admirable springs and principles, as ex- 
 ceeding her imitation, as beyond her comprehension. Art 
 copies only the minute productions of nature, despairing 
 to reach that grandeur and magnificence, which are so 
 astonishing in the masterly works of her original. Can 
 we then be so blind as not to discover an intelligence and 
 a design in the exquisite and most stupendous contrivance 
 of the universe ? Can we be so stupid as not to feel the 
 warmest raptures of worship and adoration, upon the con- 
 templation of that intelligent Being, so infinitely good and 
 wise ? 
 
 The most perfect happiness, surely, must arise from the 
 contemplation of the most perfect object. But what more 
 perfect than beauty and virtue? And where is beauty to 
 be found equal to that of the universe, or virtue which can 
 be compared to the benevolence and justice of the Deity ? 
 If aught can diminish the pleasure of this contemplation, 
 it must be either the narrowness of our faculties which 
 conceals from us the greatest part of these beauties and 
 perfections, or the shortness of our lives, which allows not 
 time sufficient to instruct us in them. But it is our com-
 
 154* ESSAY XVII. 
 
 fort, that if we employ worthily the faculties here assigned 
 us, they will be enlarged in another state of existence, so 
 as to render us more suitable worshippers of our Maker ; 
 and that the task, which can never be finished in time, 
 will be the business of an eternity.
 
 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 
 
 1 have long entertained a suspicion with regard to the 
 decisions of philosophers upon all subjects, and found in 
 myself a greater inclination to dispute than assent to their 
 conclusions. There is one mistake, to which they seem 
 liable, almost without exception ; they confine too much 
 their principles, and make no account of that vast variety 
 which nature has so much affected in all her operations. 
 When a philosopher has once laid hold of a favourite 
 principle, which perhaps accounts for many natural effects, 
 he extends the same principle over the whole creation, 
 and reduces to it every phenomenon, though by the most 
 violent and absurd reasoning. Our own mind being nar- 
 row and contracted, we cannot extend our conception to 
 the variety and extent of nature, but imagine that she is 
 as much bounded in her operations, as we are in our spe- 
 culation. 
 
 But if ever this infirmity of philosophers is to be sus- 
 pected on any occasion, it is in their reasonings concern- 
 ing human life, and the methods of attaining happiness. 
 In that case they are led astray, not only by the narrow- 
 ness of their understandings, but by that also of their pas- 
 sions. Almost every one has a predominant inclination, 
 to which his other desires and affections submit, and which
 
 156 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 governs him, though perhaps with some intervals, through 
 the whole course of his life. It is difficult for him to ap- 
 prehend, that any thing which appears totally indifferent 
 to him can ever give enjoyment to any person, or can 
 possess charms which altogether escape his observation. 
 His own pursuits are always, in his account, the most en- 
 gaging, the objec > of his passion the most valuable, and 
 the road which he pursues the only one that leads to hap- 
 piness. 
 
 But would these prejudiced reasoners reflect a moment, 
 there are many obvious instances and arguments sufficient 
 to undeceive them, and make them enlarge their maxims 
 and principles. Do they not see the vast variety of in- 
 clinations and pursuits among our species, where each 
 man seems fully satisfied with his own course of life, and 
 would esteem it the greatest unhappiness to be confined 
 to that of his neighbour? Do they not feel in themselves, 
 that what pleases at one time, displeases at another by the 
 change of inclination, and that it is not in their power, by 
 their utmost efforts, to recall that taste or appetite which 
 formerly bestowed charms on what now appears indiffer- 
 ent or disagreeable ? What is the meaning therefore of 
 those general preferences of the town or country life, of a 
 life of action or one of pleasure, of retirement or society j 
 when, besides the different inclinations of different men, 
 every one's experience may convince him, that each of 
 these kinds of life is agreeable in its turn, and that their 
 variety or their judicious mixture chiefly contributes to the 
 rendering all of them agreeable ? 
 
 But shall this business be allowed to go altogether at 
 adventures ? And must a man only consult his humour and 
 inclination, in order to determine his course of life, with- 
 out employing his reason to inform him what road is pre-
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 157 
 
 ferable, and leads most surely to happiness ? Is there no 
 difference, then, between one man's conduct and another ? 
 
 I answer, there is a great difference. One man, follow- 
 ing his inclination, in choosing his course of life, may em- 
 ploy much surer means for succeeding than another, who 
 is led by inclination into the same course of life, and pur- 
 sues the same object. Are riches the chief object of your 
 desires ? Acquire skill in your profession : be diligent in 
 the exercise of it ; enlarge the circle of your friends and 
 acquaintance j avoid pleasure and expence : and never be 
 generous, but with a view of gaining more than you could 
 save by frugality. Would you acquire the public esteem P 
 Guard equally against the extremes of arrogance and fawn- 
 ing. Let it appear that you set a value upon yourself, but 
 without despising others. If you fall into either of the ex- 
 tremes, you either provoke men's pride by your insolence, 
 or teach them to despise you by your timorous submission, 
 and by the mean opinion which you seem to entertain of 
 yourself. 
 
 These, you say, are the maxims of common prudence 
 and discretion; what every parent inculcates on his child, 
 and what every man of sense pursues in the course of life 
 which he has chosen — What is it then you desire more ? 
 Do you come to a philosopher as to a cunning man, to learn 
 something by magic or witchcraft, beyond what can be 
 known by common prudence and discretion ? — Yes ; we 
 come to a philosopher to be instructed, how we shall choose 
 our ends, more than the means for attaining these ends : 
 We want to know what desire we shall gratify, what pas- 
 sion we shall comply with, what appetite we shall indulge. 
 As to the rest, we trust to common sense, and the general 
 maxims of the world, for our instruction. 
 
 I am sorry, then, I have pretended to be a philosopher :
 
 158 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 For I find your questions very perplexing ; and am in dan- 
 ger, if my answer be too rigid and severe, of passing for a 
 pedant and scholastic ; if it be too easy and free, of being 
 taken for a preacher of vice and immorality. However, 
 to satisfy you, I shall deliver my opinion upon the matter, 
 and shall only desire you to esteem it of as little conse- 
 quence as I do myself. By that means you will neither 
 think it worthy of your ridicule nor your anger. 
 
 If we can depend upon any principle, which we learn 
 from philosophy, this, I think, may be considered as cer- 
 tain and undoubted, that there is nothing, in itself, valua- 
 ble or despicable, desirable or hateful, beautiful or deform- 
 ed ; but that these attributes arise from the particular con- 
 stitution and fabric of human sentiment and affection. 
 What seems the most delicious food to one animal, appears 
 loathsome to another : What affects the feeling of one with 
 delight, produces uneasiness in another. This is confess- 
 edly the case with regard to all the bodily senses: Bin, if 
 we examine the matter more accurately, we shall find that 
 the same observation holds even where the mind concurs 
 with the body, and mingles its sentiment with the exterior 
 appetite. 
 
 Desire this passionate lover to give you a character of 
 his mistress : He will tell you, that he is at a loss for words 
 to describe her charms, and will ask you very seriously, if 
 ever you were acquainted with a goddess or an angel ? If 
 you answer that you never were : He will then say, that 
 it is impossible for you to form a conception of such divine 
 beauties as those which his charmer possesses ; so complete 
 a shape ; such well-proportioned features ; so engaging an 
 air ; such sweetness of disposition ; such gaiety of humour. 
 You can infer nothing, however, from all this discourse, 
 but that the poor man is in love ; and that the general ap-
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 159 
 
 petite between the sexes, which nature has infused into all 
 animals, is in him determined to a particular object by 
 some qualities which give him pleasure. The same divine 
 creature, not only to a different animal, but also to a dif- 
 ferent man, appears a mere mortal being, and is beheld 
 with the utmost indifference. 
 
 Nature has given all animals a like prejudice in favour 
 of their offspring. As soon as the helpless infant sees the 
 light, though in every other eye it appears a despicable and 
 a miserable creature, it is regarded by its fond parent with 
 the utmost affection, and is preferred to every other object, 
 however perfect and accomplished. The passion alone, 
 arising from the original structure and formation of human 
 nature, bestows a value on the most insignificant object. 
 
 We may push the same observation farther, and may 
 conclude that, even when the mind operates alone, and 
 feeling the sentiment of blame or approbation, pronounces 
 one object deformed and odious, another beautiful and a- 
 miable ; I say that, even in this case, those qualities are not 
 really in the objects, but belong entirely to the sentiment 
 of that mind which blames or praises. I grant, that it will 
 be more difficult to make this proposition evident, and, as 
 it were, palpable, to negligent thinkers ; because nature is 
 more uniform in the sentiments of the mind than in most 
 feelings of the body, and produces a nearer resemblance in 
 the inward than in the outward part of human kind. There 
 is something approaching to principles in mental taste ; and 
 critics can reason and dispute more plausibly than cooks 
 or perfumers. We may observe, however, that this uni- 
 formity among human kind, hinders not, but that there 
 is a considerable diversity in the sentiments of beauty and 
 worth, and that education, custom, prejudice, caprice, and 
 humour, frequently vary our taste of this kind. Yqu will
 
 160 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 never convince a man, who is not accustomed to Italian 
 music, and has not an ear to follow its intricacies, that a 
 Scots tune is not preferable. You have not even any sin- 
 gle argument beyond your own taste, which you can em- 
 ploy in your behalf: And to your antagonist his particular 
 taste will always appear a more convincing argument to the 
 contrary. If you be wise, each of you will allow that the 
 other may be in the right ; and having many other in- 
 stances of this diversity of taste, you will both confess, that 
 beauty and worth are merely of a relative nature, and con- 
 sist in an agreeable sentiment, produced by an object in a 
 particular mind, according to the peculiar structure and 
 constitution of that mind. 
 
 By this diversity of sentiment, observable in human kind, 
 nature has, perhaps, intended to make us sensible of her 
 authority, and let us see what surprising changes she could 
 produce on the passions and desires of mankind, merely by 
 the change of their inward fabric, without any alteration 
 on the objects. The vulgar may even be convinced by 
 this argument. But men, accustomed to thinking, may 
 draw a more convincing, at least a more general argument, 
 from the very nature of the subject. 
 
 In the operation of reasoning, the mind does nothing 
 but run over its objects, as they are supposed to stand in 
 reality, without adding any thing to them, or diminishing 
 any thing from them. If I examine the Ptoloruuic and 
 Copernican systems, I endeavour only, by my inquiries, 
 to know the real situation of the pLmets ; that is, in other 
 words, I endeavour to give them, in my conception, the 
 same relations that they bear towards each other in the 
 heavens. To this operation of the mind, thei e f bre, there 
 seems to be always a real, though often an unknown stan- 
 dard, in the nature of things ; nor is truth or falsehood
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 161 
 
 variable by the various apprehensions of mankind. Though 
 all human race should for ever conclude, that the sun moves, 
 and the earth remains at rest, the sun s irs not an inch 
 from his place for all these reasonings ; and such conclu- 
 sions are eternally false and erroneous. 
 
 But the case is not the same with the qualities of beau- 
 tiful and deformed, desirable and odious, as with truth and 
 falsehood. In the former case, the mind is not content 
 with merely surveying its objects, as they stand in them- 
 selves : It also feels a sentiment of delight or uneasiness, 
 approbation or blame, consequent to that survey ; and this 
 sentiment determines it to affix the epithet beautiful or de- 
 formed, desirable or odious* Now, it is evident, that this 
 sentiment must depend upon the particular fabric or struc- 
 ture of the mind, which enables such particular forms to 
 operate in such a particular manner, and produces a sym- 
 pathy or conformity between the mind and its objects. 
 Vary the structure of the mind or inward organs, the senti- 
 ment no longer follows, though the form remains the same. 
 The sentiment being different from the object, and arising 
 from its operation upon the organs of the mind, an altera- 
 tion upon the latter must vary the effect, nor can the same 
 object, presented to a mind totally diiferent, produce the 
 same sentiment. 
 
 This conclusion every one is apt to draw of himself* 
 without much philosophy, where the sentiment is evidently 
 distinguishable from the object. Who is not sensible, that 
 power, and glory, and vengeance, are not desirable of them- 
 selves, but derive all their value from the structure of hu- 
 man passions, which begets a desire towards such particular 
 pursuits? But with regard to beauty, either natural or 
 moral, the case is commonly supposed to be different. The 
 agreeable quality is thought to lie in the object, not in the 
 
 VOL, I, M
 
 162 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 sentiment ; and that merely because the sentiment is not so 
 turbulent and violent as to distinguish itself, in an evident 
 manner, from the perception of the object. 
 
 But a little reflection suffices to distinguish them. A 
 man may know exactly all the circles and ellipses of the 
 Copernican system, and all the irregular spirals of the 
 Ptolomaic, without perceiving that the former is more beau- 
 tiful than the latter. Euclid has fully explained every 
 quality of the circle, but has not, in any proposition, said 
 a word of its beauty. The reason is evident. Beauty is 
 not a quality of the circle. It lies not in any part of the 
 line, whose parts are all equally distant from a common 
 centre. It is only the effect, which that figure produces 
 upon a mind, whose particular fabric or structure renders 
 it susceptible of such sentiments. In vain would you look 
 for it in the circle, or seek it, either by your senses, or by 
 mathematical reasonings, in all the properties of that figure. 
 
 The maihematician, who took no other pleasure in read- 
 ing Virgil, but that of examining iEneas's voyage by the 
 map, might perfectly understand the meaning of every 
 Latin word, employed by that divine author j and, con- 
 sequently, might have a distinct idea of the whole narration. 
 He would even have a more distinct idea of it, than they 
 could attain who had not studied so exactly the geography 
 of the poem. He knew, therefore, every thing in the poem : 
 But he was ignorant of its beauty ; because the beauty, 
 properly speaking, lies not in the poem, but in the senti- 
 ment or taste of the reader. And where a man has no such 
 delicacy of temper as to make him feel this sentiment, he 
 must bo ignorant of the beauty, though possessed of the 
 science and understanding of an angel a . 
 
 a See Noie [R]
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 163 
 
 The inference upon the whole is, that it is not from the 
 value or worth of the object which any person pursues, that 
 we can determine his enjoyment, but merely from the pas- 
 sion with which lie pursues it, and the success which he 
 meets with in his pursuit. Objects have absolutely no 
 worth or value in themselves. They derive their worth 
 merely from the passion. If that be strong and steady, 
 and successful, the person is happy. It cannot reasonably 
 be doubted, but a little miss, dressed in a new gown for a 
 dancing-school ball, receives as complete enjoyment as the 
 greatest orator, who triumphs in the splendour of his elo- 
 quence, while he governs the passion, and resolutions of a 
 numerous assembly. 
 
 All the difference, therefore, between one man and an- 
 other, wiii) : o gard to life, consists either in the passion, or 
 in the enjoyment : And these differences arc sufficient to 
 produce the wide extremes ';f happiness and misery. 
 
 To be happy, the passion must neither be tco violent, nor 
 too remiss. In the first case, the mind is in a perpetual 
 hurrv and tumult ; in the second, it sinks into a disagree- 
 able indolence and lethargy. 
 
 To be happy, the passion must be benign and social ; 
 not rough or fierce. The affections of the latter kind are 
 not near so agreeable to the feeling, as those of the former. 
 Who will compare rancour and animosity, envy and re- 
 venge, to friendship, benignity, clemency, and gratitude ? 
 
 To be happy, the passion musv be cheerful and gay, not 
 gloomy and melancholy. A propensity to hope and joy is 
 real riches : One to fear and sorrow, real poverty. 
 
 Some passions or inclinations, in the enjoyment of their 
 object, arc not so steady or constant as others, nor convey 
 such durable pleasure and satisfaction. Philosophical de- 
 votion, for instance, like the enthusiasm of a poet, is the
 
 164 ESSAY XXLli. 
 
 transitory effect of high spirits, great leisure, a fine genius, 
 and a habit of study and contemplation : But notwithstand- 
 ing all these circumstances, an abstract, invisible object, 
 like that which natural religion alone presents to us, can- 
 not long actuate the mind, or be of any moment in life. 
 To render the passion of continuance, we must find some 
 method of affecting the senses and imagination, and must 
 embrace some historical as well as philosophical account of 
 the divinity. Popular superstitions and observances are 
 even found to be of use in this particular. 
 
 Though the tempers of men be very different, yet we 
 may safely pronounce in general, that a life of pleasure 
 cannot support itself so long as one of business, but is much 
 more subject to satiety and disgust. The amusements 
 which are the most durable, have all a mixture of applica- 
 tion and attention in them ; such as gaming and hunting. 
 And in general, business and action fill up all the great 
 vacancies in human life. 
 
 But where the temper is the best disposed for any en- 
 joyment, the object is often wanting: And in this respect, 
 the passions, which pursue external objects, contribute not 
 so much to happiness, as those which rest in ourselves ; 
 since we are neither so certain of attaining such objects, 
 nor so secure in possessing them. A passion for learning 
 is preferable, with regard to happiness, to one for riches. 
 
 Some men are possessed of great strength of mind ; and 
 even when they pursue external objects, are not much af- 
 fected by a disappointment, but renew their application and 
 industry with the greatest cheerfulness. Nothing contri- 
 butes more to happiness than such a turn of mind. 
 
 According to this short and imperfect sketch of human 
 life, the happiest disposition of mind is the virtuous; or, 
 in other words, that which leads to action and employment-,
 
 THE SCEPTIC* 165 
 
 renders us sensible to the social passions, steels the heart 
 against the assaults of fortune, reduces the affections to a 
 just moderation, makes our own thoughts an entertainment 
 to us, and inclines us rather to the pleasures of society and 
 conversation, than to those of the senses. This, jn the 
 mean time, must be obvious to the most careless reasoner, 
 that all dispositions of mind are not alike favourable to 
 happiness, and that one passion or humour may be ex- 
 tremely desirable, while another is equally disagreeable. 
 And, indeed, all the difference between the conditions of 
 life depends upon the mind ; nor is there any one situa- 
 tion of affairs, in itself, preferable to another. Good and 
 ill, both natural and moral, are entirely relative to human 
 sentiment and affection. No man would ever be unhap- 
 py, could he alter his feelings. Proteus-like, he would 
 elude all attacks, by the continual alterations of his shape 
 and form. 
 
 But of this resourse nature has, in a great measure, de- 
 prived us. The fabric and constitution of our mind no 
 more depends on our choice, than that of our body. The 
 generality of men have not even the smallest notion, that 
 any alteration in this respect can ever be desirable. As a 
 stream necessarily follows the several inclinations of the 
 ground on which it runs ; so are the ignorant and thought- 
 less part of mankind actuated by their natural propensi- 
 ties. Such are effectually excluded from all pretensions 
 to philosophy, and the medicine of the mind, so much boast- 
 ed. But even upon the wise and thoughtful, nature has 
 a prodigious influence ; nor is it always in a man's power, 
 by the utmost art and industry, to correct his temper, and 
 attain that virtuous character, to which he aspires. The 
 empire of philosophy extends over a few ; and with re- 
 gard to these too, her authority is very weak and limited,
 
 166 ESSAY XVIII, 
 
 Men may well be sensible of the value of virtue, and may 
 desire to attain it; but it is not always certain, that they 
 will be successful in their wishes. 
 
 Whoever considers, without prejudice, the course of hu- 
 man actions, will find, that mankind are almost entirely 
 guided by constitution and temper, and that general max- 
 ims have little influence, but so far as they affect our taste 
 O- - sentiment. If a man have a lively sense of honour and 
 virtue, with moderate passions, his conduct will always be 
 conformable to the rules of morality ; or if he depart from 
 them, his return will be easy and expeditious. On the 
 other hand, where one is born of so perverse a frame of 
 mind, of so callous and insensible a disposition, as to have 
 no relish for virtue and humanity, no sympathy with his 
 fellow-creatures, no desire of esteem and applause ; such 
 a one must be allowed entirely incurable, nor is there any 
 remedy in philosophy. He reaps no satisfaction but from 
 low and sensual objects, or from the indulgence of malig- 
 nant passions : He feels no remorse to control his vicious 
 inclinations : He has not even that sense or taste, which is 
 requisite to make him desire a better character. For my 
 part, i know not how I should address myself to such a 
 one, or by what arguments i should endeavour to reform 
 him. Should I teli him of the inward satisfaction which 
 results from laudable and humane actions, the delicate plea- 
 sure of disinterested love an ! friendship, the lasting en- 
 joyments of a good name and an established character, he 
 migl"' . rciii reply, ih- ; these were, perhaps, pleasures to such 
 as were susceptible of them , but that, for his part, he finds 
 himself of a quite different turn and disposition. 1 must 
 repeat it; my philosophy affords no remedy in such a case, 
 nor could I do a-y thhv- but lament this person's unhap- 
 py condition. But then I ask, If any other philosophy
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 1G7 
 
 can afford a remedy; or if it be possible, by any system, 
 to render all mankind virtuous, however perverse mav be 
 their natural frame of mind ? Experience will soon con- 
 vince us of the contrary j and I will venture to affirm, 
 that, perhaps, the chief benefit which results from philo- 
 sophy, arises in an indirect manner, and proceeds more 
 from its secret, insensible influence, than from its imme- 
 diate application. 
 
 It is certain, that a serious attention to the sciences and 
 liberal arts softens and humanizes the temper, and cherish- 
 es those fine emotions, in which true virtue and honour 
 consists. It rarely, very rarely happens, that a man of 
 taste and learning is not, at least, an honest man, what- 
 ever frailties may attend him. The bent of his mind to 
 speculative studies must mortify in him the passions of in- 
 terest and ambition, and must, at the same time, give him 
 a greater sensibility of all the decencies and duties of life. 
 He feels more fully a moral distinction in characters and 
 manners; nor is his sense of this kind diminished, but, on 
 the contrary, it is much increased, by speculation. 
 
 Besides such insensible changes upon the temper and 
 disposition, it is highly probable, that others may be pro- 
 duced by study and application. The prodigious effects 
 of education may convince us, that the mind is not alto- 
 gether stubborn and inflexible, but will admit of many al- 
 terations from its original make and structure. Let a man 
 propose to himself the model of a character which he ap- 
 proves : Let him be well acquainted with those particulars 
 in which his own character deviates from this model : Let 
 him keep a constant watch over himself, and benci his mind, 
 by a continual effort, from the vices, towards the virtues ; 
 and I doubt not but, in time, he will find, in his temper, 
 an alteration for the better.
 
 1(58 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 Habit is another powerful means of reforming the mind, 
 and implanting in it good dispositions and inclinations. 
 A man, who continue:? in a course of sobriety and tempe- 
 rance, will hate riot and disorder : If he engage in busi- 
 ness or study, indolence will seem a punishment to him : 
 If he constrain himself to practise beneficence and affa- 
 bility, he will soon abhor all instances of pride and vio- 
 lence. Where one is thoroughly convinced that the vir- 
 tuous course of life is preferable; if he have but resolu- 
 tion enough, for some time, to impose a violence on him- 
 self; his reformation needs not to be despaired of. The 
 misfortune is, that this conviction and this resolution never 
 can have place, unless a man be, beforehand, tolerably vir- 
 tuous. 
 
 Here then is the chief triumph of art and philosophy : 
 It insensibly refines the temper, and it points out to us 
 those dispositions which we should endeavour to attain, by 
 a constant bent of mind, and by repeated habit. Beyond 
 this I cannot acknowledge it to have great influence ; and 
 I must entertain doubts concerning all those exhortations 
 and consolations, which are in such vogue among specu- 
 lative reasoners. 
 
 We have already observed, that no objects are, in 
 themselves, desirable or odious, valuable or despicable : 
 but that objects acquire these qualities from the particular 
 character and constitution of the mind which surveys them. 
 To diminish, therefore, or augment any person's value for 
 an object, to excite or moderate his passions, there are no 
 direct arguments or reasons, which can be employed with 
 any force or influence. The catehing of flies, like Domi- 
 tian, if it give more pleasure, is preferable to the hunting 
 of wild beast*, like William Rufus, or conquering of king- 
 doms like Alexander.
 
 THE SCEPTIC, 169 
 
 But though the value of every object can be determined 
 only by the sentiment or passion of every individual, we 
 may observe, that the passion, in pronouncing its verdict, 
 considers not the object simply, as it is in itself, but surs- 
 veys it with all the circumstances which attend it. A man 
 transported with joy, on account of his possessing a dia- 
 mond, confines not his view to the glittering stone before 
 him : He also considers its rarity, and hence chiefly arises 
 his pleasure and exultation. Here therefore a philosopher 
 may step in, and suggest particular views, and considera- 
 tions, and circumstances, which otherwise would have 
 escaped us, and by that means, he may either moderate or 
 excite any particular passion. 
 
 It may seem unreasonable absolutely to deny the autho- 
 rity of philosophy in this respect: But it must be confess- 
 ed, that there lies this strong presumption against it, that, 
 if these views be natural and obvious, they would have oc- 
 curred of themselves, without the assistance of philosophy ; 
 if they be not natural, they never can have any influence 
 on the affections. These are of a very delicate nature, and 
 cannot be forced or constrained by the utmost art or indus- 
 try. A consideration which we seek for on purpose, which 
 we enter into with difficulty, which we cannot attain with- 
 out care and attention, will never produce those genuine 
 and durable movements of passion, which are the result of 
 nature, and the constitution of the mind. A man may as 
 well pretend to cure himself of love, by viewing his mistress 
 through the artificial medium of a microscope or prospect, 
 and beholding there the coarseness of her skin, and mon- 
 strous disproportion of her features, as hope to excite or 
 moderate any passion by the artificial arguments of a Se- 
 neca or an Epictetus. The remembrance of the natural 
 aspect and situation of the object, will, in both cases, still
 
 170 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 recur upon him. The reflections of philosophy are too sub- 
 tle and distant to take place in common life, or eradicate 
 any affection. The air is too fine to breathe in, where it is 
 above the winds and clouds of the atmosphere. 
 
 Another defect of those refined reflections, which philo- 
 sophy suggests to us, is, that commonly they cannot dimi- 
 nish or extinguish our vicious passions, without diminish- 
 ing or extinguishing such as are virtuous, and rendering 
 the mind totally indifferent and inactive. They are, for 
 the most part, general, and are applicable to all our affec- 
 tions. In vain do we hope to direct their influence only 
 to one side. If by incessant study and meditation we have 
 rendered them intimate and present to us, they will ope- 
 rate throughout, and spread an universal insensibility over 
 the mind. When we destroy the nerves, we extinguish 
 the sense of pleasure, together with that of pain, in the hu- 
 man body. 
 
 It will be easy, by one glance of the eye, to find one or 
 other of these delects in most of those philosophical reflec- 
 tions, so much celebrated both in ancient and modern times. 
 Let not the injuries or violence of men, say the philosophers a , 
 ever discompose you by anger or hatred. Would you he an- 
 gry at the ape for its malice, or the tyger for its ferocity ? 
 This reflection leads us into a bad opinion of human na- 
 ture, and must extinguish the social affections. It tends 
 also to prevent all remorse for a man's own crimes ; when 
 he considers, that vice is as natural to mankind, as the par- 
 ticular instincts to brute creatures. 
 
 All ills arise from the order of the universe, which is ab- 
 ;ohd 'hj perfect. Would you vdsh to disturb so divine an or- 
 der for the sake of your oxm particular interest ? What if 
 
 * Plut. B: Ira cohiben'la.
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 171 
 
 the ills I suffer arise from malice or oppression ? But the 
 
 vices and imperfections of men are also comprehended in the 
 order of the universe : 
 
 If plagues and earthquakes break not heaven's design, 
 Why then a Borgia or a Catiline? 
 
 Let this be allowed ; and my own vices will also be a part 
 of the same order. 
 
 To one who said, that none were happy, who were not 
 above opinion, a Spartan replied, Then none are happy 
 hid knaves and robbers a . 
 
 Man is born to he miserable ,• and is he surprised at any 
 <particidar misfortune ? Aral can he give way to sorrow and 
 lamentation upon account of any disaster ? Yes : He very 
 reasonably laments, that he should be .born to be miserable. 
 Your consolation presents a hundred ills for one, of which 
 you pretend to ease him. 
 
 You should always have before your eyes death , disease, po- 
 verty, blindness, exile, calumny, and infamy, as ills which arc 
 incident to human nature. If any of these ills fall to your lot, 
 you will bear it the belter, when you have reckoned upon it. 
 I answer, if we confine ourselves to a general and distant 
 reflection on the ills of human life, that can have no effect 
 to prepare us for them. If by close and intense medita- 
 tion we render them present and intimate to us, thai is the 
 true secret for poisoning all our pleasures, and rendering 
 us perpetually miserable. 
 
 Your sorrow is fruitless, and 'will not change the course of 
 destiny. Very true : and for that very reason I am sorry. 
 
 Cicero's consolation for deafness is somewhat curious. 
 How many languages are there, says he, which you do not 
 understand ? The Punic, Spanish, Gallic, Egyptian, fyc. 
 
 11 I'm, Lccon. Ajiopit'-ic-j,
 
 ] 72 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 With regard to all these, you arc as if you *wcrc deaf, ycc 
 you are indifferent about I he matter. Is it then so great a 
 misfortune to be deaf to one language more* P 
 
 I like better the repartee of Antipater the Cyrenaic, 
 when some women were condoling with him for his blind- 
 ness : What ! says he, Do you think there arc no pleasures in 
 the dark ? 
 
 Nothing can be more destructive, says Fontenclle, to am- 
 bition, and the passion for conquest, than the true system of 
 astronomy. What a poor thing is even the whole globe in, 
 comparison of the infinite extent of Nature ? This consider- 
 ation is evidently too distant ever to have any effect. Or, 
 if it hod any, would it not destroy patriotism as well as am- 
 bition ? The same gallant author adds, with some reason, 
 that the bright eyes of the ladies are the only objects which 
 lose nothing of their lustre or value from the most exten- 
 sive views of astrouomy, but stand proof against every sys- 
 tem. Would philosophers advise us to limit our affections 
 to them ? 
 
 Exile, says Plutarch to a friend in banishment, is no 
 evil : Mathematicians tell 71s, that the ichole earth is but a 
 point, compared to the heavens. To change one's country, 
 then, is little more than to remove from one street to another. 
 Man is not a, plant, rooted in a certain spot of earth : All 
 soils and all climates are alike suited to him b . These to- 
 pics are admirable, could they fill only into the hands of 
 banished persons. But what, if they come also to the know- 
 ledge of those who are employed in public affairs, and de- 
 stroy all their attachment to their native country? Or will 
 they operate like the quack's medicine, which is equally 
 •rood for a diabetes and a dropsy ? 
 
 a Tusc. Quest, lib. v. " I) • exilic.
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 17S 
 
 It is certain, were a superior being thrust into a human 
 body, that the whole of life would to him appear so mean* 
 contemptible, and puerile, that he never could be induced 
 to take part in any thhig, and would scarcely give atten- 
 tion to what passes around him. To engage him to such 
 a condescension as to play even the part of a Philip with 
 zeal and alacrity, would be much more difficult, than to 
 constrain the same Philip, after having been a king and 
 a conqueror during fifty years, to mend old shoes with 
 proper care and attention ; the occupation which Lu- 
 cian assigns him in the infernal regions. Now all the 
 same topics of disdain towards human affairs, which could 
 operate on this supposed being, occur also to a philo- 
 sopher; but being, in some measure, disproportioned to 
 human capacity, and not being fortified by the expe- 
 rience of any thing better, they make not a full impres- 
 sion on him. lie sees, but he feels not sufficiently their 
 truth : and is always a sublime philosopher, when he 
 needs not; that is, as long as nothing disturbs him, or 
 rouses his affections. While others play, he wonders at 
 their keenness and ardour ; but he no sooner puts in hi*3 
 own stake, than he is commonly transported with the 
 same passions, that he had so much condemned, while he 
 remained a spectator. 
 
 There are two considerations, chiefly, to be met with in 
 books of philosophy, from which any important effect h to 
 be expected, and that because these considerations are 
 drawn from common hie, and occui upon the most super- 
 ficial view of human affairs. When we reflect on the 
 shortness and uncertainty of life, how despicable seem all 
 our pursuits of happiness ? And even, if we would extend 
 oui concern beyond our own life, how •' r olous appear our 
 most enlarged and most generous ^icjeus ; when we con-
 
 174 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 sider the incessant changes and revolutions of human af- 
 fairs, by which laws and learning, books and government, 
 are hurried away by time, as by a rapid stream, and are 
 lost in the immense ocean of matter ? Such a reflection cer- 
 tainly tends to mortify all our passions : But does it not 
 thereby counterwork the artifice of nature, who has hap- 
 pily deceived us into an opinion, that human life is of some 
 importance ? And may not such a reflection be employed 
 with success by voluptuous reasoncrs, in order to lead us, 
 from the paths of action and virtue, into the flowery fields 
 of indolence and pleasure. 
 
 We are informed by Thucydides, that, during the fa- 
 mous plague of Athens, when death seemed present to eve- 
 ry one, a dissolute mirth and gaiety prevailed among the 
 people, who exhorted one another to make the most of 
 life as Ions as it endured. The same observation is made 
 by Boccace, with regard to the plague of Florence. Alike 
 principle makes soldiers, during war, be more addicted to 
 riot and expence, than any other race of men. Present 
 pleasure is always of importance ; and whatever diminishes 
 the importance of all other objects, must bestow on it an 
 additional influence and value. 
 
 The second philosophical consideration, which may of- 
 ten have an influence on the affections, is derived, from a 
 comparison of our own condition with the condition of 
 others. This comparison we are continually making even 
 in common life ; but the misfortune is, that we are rather 
 apt to compare our situation with that of our .= .iperiors, 
 than with that of our inferiors. A philosopher corrects 
 this natural infirmity, by turning his view to the other side, 
 in order to render himself easy in the situation to which 
 fortune has confim d him. There are few peopie who are 
 not susceptible oi some consolation from this reflection,
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 17"' 
 
 though, to a very good-natured man, the view of human 
 miseries should rather produce sorrow than comfort, and 
 add, to his lamentations for his own misfortunes, a deep 
 compassion for those of others. Such is the imperfection, 
 even of the best of these philosophical topics of consola- 
 tion a . 
 
 I shall conclude this subject with observing, that, though 
 virtue be undoubtedly the best choice, when it is attain- 
 able ; yet such is the disorder and confusion of human af- 
 fairs, that no perfect or regular distribution of happiness 
 and misery is ever., in this life, to be expected. Not only 
 the goods of fortune, and the endowments of the body 
 (both of which are important), not only these advantages, 
 I say, are unequally divided between the virtuous and vi- 
 cious, but even the mind itself partakes, in some degree, 
 of this disorder; and the most worthy character, by the 
 very constitution of the passions, enjoys not always the 
 highest felicity. 
 
 It is observable, that though every bodily pain proceeds 
 from some disorder in the part or organ, yet the pain is 
 not always proportioned to the disorder, but is greater or 
 less, according to the greater or less sensibility of the parts 
 upon which the noxious humours exert their influence. A 
 tooth-ache produces more violent convulsions of pain than 
 a. phthisis or a dropsy. In like manner, with regard to the 
 economy of the mind, we may observe, that all vice is in- 
 deed pernicious ; yet the disturbance or pain is not mea- 
 sured out by nature with exact proportion to the decrees 
 of vice; nor is the man of highest virtue, even abstracting 
 from external accidents, ahvays the most happy. A gloomy 
 and melancholy disposition is certainly, to our scntih 
 
 * See Note [G.j
 
 Ht> ESSAY XVII r. 
 
 .1 vice or imperfection ; but as it may be accompanied with 
 groat sense of honour and great integrity, it may be tbund 
 in very worthy character?, though it is sufficient alone to 
 imbitter life, and render the person affected with it com- 
 pletely miserable. On the other hand, a selfish villain may 
 possess a spring and alacrity of temper, a certain gdiety of 
 heart, which is indeed a good quality, but which is reward- 
 ed much bevond its merit, and when attended with irood 
 fortune, will compensate for the uneasiness and remorse 
 arising from all the other vices. 
 
 I shall add, as an observation to the same purpose, that, 
 if a man be liable to a vice or imperfection, it may often 
 happen, that a good quality, which he possesses along with 
 it, will render him more miserable, than if he were com- 
 pletely vicious. A person of such imbecility of temper, 
 as to be easily broken by affliction, is more unhappy for 
 being endowed with a generous and friendly disposition, 
 which gives him a lively concern for others, and exposes 
 him the more to fortune and accidents. A sense of shame, 
 in an imperfect character, is certainly a virtue; but pro- 
 duces great uneasiness and remorse, from which the aban- 
 doned villain is entirely free. A very amorous complexion, 
 with a heart incapable of friendship, is happier than the 
 same excess in love, with a generosity of temper, which 
 transports a man beyond himself, and renders him a total 
 slave to the object of his passion. 
 
 In a word, human life is more governed by fortune than 
 by reason •, is to be regarded more as a dull pastime than 
 a serious occupation ; and is more influenced by particular 
 humour, than by general principles. Shall wc engage our- 
 selves in it with passion and anxiety ? It is not worthy of 
 so much concern. Shall we be indifferent about what 
 happens ? Wc lose all the pleasure of the game by our
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 
 
 phlegm and carelessness. While we arc reasoning con- 
 cerning life, life is gone; and death, though perhaps they 
 receive him differently) yet treats alike the fool and the phi- 
 losopher. To reduce life to exact rule and method is com- 
 monly a painful, oft a fruitless occupation : And is it not 
 also a proof, that we overvalue the prize for which we con- 
 tend ? Even to reason so carefully concerning it, and to fix 
 with accuracy its just idea, would be overvaluing it, were 
 it not that, to some tempers, this occupation is one of the 
 most amusing in which life could possibly be employed. 
 
 vol. I.
 
 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 
 
 As marriage is an engagement entered into by mutual 
 consent, and has for its end the propagation of the species, 
 it is evident, that it must be susceptible of all the variety of 
 conditions which consent establishes, provided they be not 
 contrary to this end. 
 
 A man, in conjoining himself to a woman, is bound to 
 her according to the terms of his engagement : In beget- 
 ting children, he is bound, by all the ties of nature and 
 humanity, to provide for their subsistence and education. 
 When he has performed these two parts of duty, no one 
 can reproach him with injustice or injury. And as the terms 
 of his engagement, as well as the methods of subsisting his 
 offspring, may be various, it is mere superstition to ima- 
 gine, that marriage can be entirely uniform, and will ad- 
 mit only of one mode or form. Did not human laws re- 
 strain the natural liberty of men, every particular marriage 
 would be as different as contracts or bargains of any other 
 kind or species. 
 
 As circu instances vary, and the laws propose different 
 advantages, we find, that, in different times and places, 
 they impose different conditions on this important con- 
 tract. In Tonquin, it is usual for the sailors, when the 
 ship comes into the harbour, to marry for the season j and, 
 ijotwithstanding this precarious engagement, they are as-
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 179 
 
 sured, it is said, of the strictest fidelity to their bed, as well 
 as in the whole management of their affairs, from those 
 temporary spouses. 
 
 I cannot, at present, recollect my authorities; but I have 
 somewhere read, that the republic of Athens, having lost 
 many of its citizens by war and pestilence, allowed every 
 man to marry two wives, in order the sooner to repair the 
 waste which had been made by these calamities. The poet 
 Euripides happened to be coupled to two noisy Vixens, 
 who so plagued him with their jealousies and quarrels, that 
 he became ever after a professed woman-hater ; and is the 
 only theatrical writer, perhaps the only poet, that ever en- 
 tertained an aversion to the sex. 
 
 In that agreeable romance, called the History of the Se- 
 varamhians, where a great many men and a few women 
 are supposed to be shipwrecked on a desert coast ; the cap- 
 tain of the troop, in order to obviate those endless quar- 
 rels which arose, regulates their marriages after the fol- 
 lowing manner : He takes a handsome female to himself 
 alone ; assigns one to every couple of inferior officers, and 
 to five of the lowest rank he gave one wife in common. 
 
 The ancient Britons had a singular kind of marriage, to 
 be met with among no other people. Any number of them, 
 as ten or a dozen, joined in a society together, which was 
 perhaps requisite for mutual defence in those barbarous 
 times. In order to link this society the closer, they took 
 an equal number of wives in common ; and whatever chil- 
 dren were born, were reputed to belong to all of them, 
 and were accordingly provided for by the whole commu- 
 nity. 
 
 Among the inferior creatures, nature herself, being the 
 supreme legislator, prescribes all the laws which regulate 
 their marriages, and varies those laws according to the dif-
 
 180 ESS\Y XIX. 
 
 ferent circumstances of the creature. Where she fbiv 
 nishes, with ease, tood and defence to the new* born ani- 
 mal, the present embrace terminates the marriage; and 
 the care of the offspring is committed entirely to the fe- 
 male. Where the food is of .more difficult purchase, the 
 marriage continues for one season, till the common pro- 
 geny can provide for itself; and then the union imme- 
 diately dissolves, and leaves each of the parties free to en- 
 ter into a new engagement at the ensuing season. But 
 nature, having endowed man with reason, has not so ex- 
 actly regulated every article of his marriage-contract, but 
 has left him to adjust them, by his own prudence, accord- 
 ing to his particular circumstances and situation. Muni- 
 cipal laws are a supply to the wisdom of each individual ; 
 and, at the same time, by restraining the natural liberty 
 of men, make private interest submit to the interest of the 
 public. All regulations, therefore, on this head, are equally 
 lawful, and equally conformable to the principles of na- 
 ture ; though they are not all equally convenient, or equally 
 useful to society. The laws may allow of polygamy, as 
 among the Eastern nations •, or of voluntary divorces, as 
 among the Greeks and Romans ; or they may confine one 
 man to one woman, during the whole course of their lives, 
 as among the modern Europeans. It may not be dis- 
 agreeable to consider the advantages and disadvantages 
 which result from each of these institutions. 
 
 The advocates for polygamy may recommend it as the 
 only effectual remedy for the disorders of love, and the on- 
 ly expedient for freeing men from that slavery to the fe- 
 male--, which the natural violence of our passions has im- 
 posed upon us. By this means alone can we regain our 
 right of sovereignty : and, sating our appetite, re-establish 
 the authority of reason in our minds, and, of consequence,
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 181 
 
 our own authority in our families. Man, like a weak so- 
 vereign, being unable to support himself against the wiles 
 and intrigues of his subjects, must play one faction against 
 another, and become absolute by the mutual jealousy of 
 the females. To divide and to govern is an universal max- 
 im ; and by neglecting it, the Europeans undergo a more 
 grievous and a more ignominious slavery than the Turks 
 or Persians, who are subjected indeed to a sovereign, that 
 lies at a distance from them, but in their domestic affairs 
 rule with an uncontrollable sway. 
 
 On the other hand, it may be urged with better reason, 
 that this sovereignty of the male is a real usurpation, and 
 destroys that nearness of rank, not to say equality, which 
 nature has established between the sexes. We are, by na- , 
 ture, their lovers, their friends, their patrons : Would we 
 willingly exchange such endearing apreiiallons for the bar- 
 barous title of master and tyrant ? 
 
 In what capacity shall we gain by this inhuman proceed- 
 ing ? As lovers, or as husbands? Tin.: lover is totally an- 
 nihilated •, and courtship, the most agreeable scene in life, 
 can no longer have place where women have not the free 
 disposal of themselves, but arc bought and sold, like the 
 meanest animal. The /;usbard is as little a gainer, having 
 found the admirable secret of extinguishing every part of 
 love, except its jealousy. No rose without its thorn ; but 
 he must be a foolish wretch indeed, that throws away the 
 rose and preserves only the thorn. 
 
 But the Asiatic manners are as destructive to friendship 
 as to love. Jealousy excludes men from all intimacies and 
 familiarities with each other. No one dares bring his 
 friend to his house or table, lest he bring a lover to his nu- 
 merous wives. Hence, all over the east, each family is as 
 much separate from another as if thev were so manv di=-
 
 182 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 tinct kingdoms. No wonder then that Solomon, living 
 like an eastern prince, with his seven hundred wives, and 
 three hundred concubines, without one friend, could write 
 so pathetically concerning the vanity of the world. Had 
 he tried the secret of one wife or mistress, a few friends, 
 and a great many companions, he might have found life 
 somewhat more agreeable. Destroy love and friendship, 
 what remains in the world worth accepting ? 
 
 The bad education of children, especially children of con- 
 dition, is another unavoidable consequence of these eastern 
 institutions. Those who pass the early part of life among 
 slaves, are only qualified to be, themselves, slaves and ty- 
 rants ; and in every future intercourse, either with their 
 inferiors or superiors, are apt to forget the natural equality 
 of mankind. What attention, too, can it be supposed a 
 parent, whose seraglio affords him fifty sons, will give to 
 instilling principles of morality or science into a progeny, 
 with whom he himself is scarcely acquainted, and whom he 
 loves with so divided an affection ? Barbarism, therefore, 
 appears, from reason as well as experience, to be the inse- 
 parable attendant of polygamy. 
 
 To render polygamy more odious, I need not recount 
 the frightful effects of jealousy, and the constraint in which 
 it holds the fair- sex all over the east. In those countries 
 men are not allowed to have any commerce with the fe- 
 males, not even physicians, when sickness may be suppo- 
 sed to have extinguished all wanton passions in the bosoms 
 of the fair, and, at the same time, has rendered them unfit 
 objects of desire. Tournefort tells us, that when he was 
 brought into the Grand Seignior's Seraglio as a physician, 
 he was not a little surprised, in looking along a gallery, 
 to see a great number of naked arms standing out from the 
 sides of the room. He could not imagine what this could
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 183 
 
 mean ; till lie was told that those arms belonged to bodies, 
 which he must cure, without knowing any more about 
 them than what he could learn from the arms. He was 
 not allowed to ask a question of the patient, or even of her 
 attendants, lest he might find it necessary to inquire con- 
 cerning circumstances which the delicacy of the Seraglio 
 allows not to be revealed. Hence physicians in the east 
 pretend to know all diseases from the pulse, as our quacks 
 in Europe undertake to cure a person merely from seeing 
 his water. I suppose, had Monsieur Tournefort been of 
 this latter kind, he would not, in Constantinople, have been 
 allowed by the jealous Turks to be furnished with mate- 
 rials requisite for exercising his art 
 
 In another country, where polygamy is also allowed, 
 they render their wives cripples, and make their feet of no 
 use to them, in order to confine them to their own houses. 
 But it will, perhaps, appear strange, that, in a European 
 country, jealousy can yet be carried to such a height, that 
 it is indecent so much as to suppose that a woman of rank 
 can have feet or legs. Witness the following story, which 
 we have from very good authority a. When the mother 
 of the late king of Spain was on her road towards Madrid, 
 she passed through a little town in Spain famous for its 
 manufactory of gloves and stockings. The magistrates of 
 the place thought they could not better express their joy 
 for the reception of their new queen, than by presenting 
 her with a sample of those commodities, for which alone 
 their town was remarkable. The major domo, who con- 
 ducted the princess, received the gloves very graciously r 
 but, when the stockings were presented, he flung them 
 away with great indignation, and severely reprimanded the 
 
 H Mcmoires de la cour (VEsjmgne, par Madame d' 'Annoy.
 
 lS4t ESSAY XIX. 
 
 magistrates for this egregious piece of indecency. Kn&ao t 
 bays he, that a queen of Spain has no legs. The young 
 queen, who at that time understood the language but im- 
 perfectly, and had often been frightened with stories of 
 Spanish jealousy, imagined that they were to cut off her 
 ]egs. Upon which she fell a-crymg, and begged them to 
 conduct her back to Germany, for that she never could 
 endure the operation ; and it was with some difficulty they 
 could appease her. Philip IV. is said never in his life to 
 have laughed heartily but at the recital of this story. 
 
 Having rejected polygamy, and matched one man with 
 one woman, let us now consider what duration we shall as- 
 sign to their union, and whether we shall admit of those 
 voluntary divorces which were customary among the Greeks 
 and Romans. Those who would defend this practice, may 
 employ the following reasons. 
 
 How often does disgust and aversion arise, after mar- 
 riage, from the most trivial accidents, or from an incompa- 
 tibility of humour ; where time, instead of curing the 
 wounds, proceeding from mutual injuries, festers them 
 every day the more, by new quarrels and reproaches ? Let 
 us separate hearts which were not made to associate to- 
 gether. Either of them may, perhaps, find another for 
 which it is better fitted. At least, nothing can be more 
 cruel than to preserve, by violence, an union, which, at 
 first, was made by mutual love, and is now, in effect, dis- 
 solved by mutual hatred. 
 
 But the liberty of divorces is not only a cure to hatred 
 and domestic quarrels : It is also an admirable preserva- 
 tive against them, and the only secret for keeping alive 
 that love which first united the married couple. The heart 
 of man delights in liberty: The very image of constraint 
 is grievous to it : When you would confine it by violence.
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 155 
 
 to what would otherwise have been its choice, the inclina- 
 tion immediately changes, and desire is tinned into aver- 
 sion. It' the public interest will not allow us to enjoy in 
 polygamy that variety which is so agreeable in love : at 
 least, deprive us not of that liberty which is so essentially 
 requisite. In vain you tell me, that I had my choice of 
 the person with whom I would conjoin myself. I had my 
 choice, it is true, of my prison ; but this is but a small 
 comfort, since it must still be a prison. 
 
 Such are the arguments which mav be urged in favour 
 of divorces: But there seem to be these three unanswer- 
 able objections against them. First, What must become 
 of the children upon the separation of the parents ? MusC 
 they be committed to the care of a stepmother ; and in- 
 stead of the fond attention and concern of a parent, feel 
 all the indifference or hatred of a stranger, or an enemy ? 
 These inconveniences art sufficiently felt, where nature 
 has made the divorce by the doom inevitable to ail mor- 
 tals : And shall we seek to multiply those inconveniences 
 by multiplying divorces, and putting it in the power of 
 parents, upon every caprice, to render then posterity mi- 
 serable ? 
 
 Secondly, If it be true, on the one hand, that the heart 
 of man naturally delights in liberty, and hates ever) thing 
 to which it is confined ; it is also true, on the other that 
 the heart of man naturally submits to necessity, and soon 
 loses an inclination, when there app ars an absolute impos- 
 sibility of gratifying it. These principles of human nature, 
 you'll say, are contradictory : But what is man but a heap 
 of contradictions ! Though it is remarkable, that where 
 principles aie, after this manner, contiary in their opera- 
 tion, they do not always destroy each other ; but the one 
 or the other may predominate on any particular occasion,
 
 1SG ESSAY XIX. 
 
 according as circumstances are more or less favourable to 
 it. For instance, love is a restless and impatient passion, 
 full of caprices and variations : arising in a moment from 
 a feature, from an air, from nothing, and suddenly extin- 
 guishing after the same manner. Such a passion requires 
 liberty above all things ; and therefore Eloisa had reason, 
 when, in order to preserve this passion, she refused to mar- 
 ry her beloved Abelard. 
 
 How oft. when pressed to marriage, have I said, 
 Curse on all laws but those which love has made : 
 Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, 
 Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. 
 
 But friend 'ship is a calm and sedate affection, conducted by 
 reason and cemented by habit ; springing from long ac- 
 quaintance and mutual obligations ; without jealousies or 
 fears, and without those feverish fits of heat and cold, which 
 cause such an agreeable torment in the amorous passion. 
 So sober an affection, therefore, as friendship, rather thrives 
 under constraint, and never rises to such a height, as when 
 any strong interest or necessity binds two persons together, 
 and gives them some common object of pursuit. We need 
 not, therefore, be afraid of drawing the marriage -knot, 
 which chiefly subsists by friendship, the closest possible. 
 The amity between the persons, where it is solid and sin- 
 cere, will rather gain by it : And where it is wavering and 
 uncertain, this is the best expedient for fixing it. How 
 many frivolous quarrels and disgusts are there, which peo- 
 ple of common prudence endeavour to forget, when they 
 lie under a necessity of passing their lives together ; but 
 which would soon be inflamed into the most deadly hatred, 
 were they pursued to the utmost, under the prospect of an 
 easy separation ? 
 
 In the third place, We must consider, that nothing is
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 187 
 
 more dangerous than to unite two persons so closely in all 
 their interests and concerns, as man and wife, without ren- 
 dering the union entire and total. The least possibility of 
 a separate interest must be the source of endless quarrels 
 and suspicions. The wife, not secure of her establishment, 
 will still be driving some separate end or project ; and the 
 husband's selfishness, being accompanied with more power, 
 may be still more dangerous. 
 
 Should these reasons against voluntary divorces be deem- 
 ed insufficient, I hope nobody will pretend to refuse the 
 testimony of experience. At the time when divorces were 
 most frequent among the Romans, marriages were most 
 rare; and Augustus was obliged, by penal laws, to force 
 men of fashion into the married state : A circumstance 
 which is scarcely to be found in any other age or nation. 
 The more ancient laws of Rome, which prohibited divor- 
 ces, are extremely praised by Dionysus Haiycarnasseeus a . 
 Wonderful was the harmony, says the historian, which this 
 inseparable union of interests produced between married 
 persons ; while each of them considered the inevitable ne- 
 cessity by which they were linked together, and abandon- 
 ed all prospect of any other choice or establishment. 
 
 The exclusion of polygamy and divorces sufficiently re- 
 commends our present European practice with regard to 
 marriage. 
 
 4 Lib, ii.
 
 ESSAY XX. 
 
 OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT IN WRITING, 
 
 Fine writing, according to Mr Addison, consists of sen- 
 timents which are natural, without being obvious. There 
 cannot be a juster and more concise definition of fine wri- 
 ting. . 
 
 Sentiments, which are merely natural, affect not the mind 
 with any pleasure, and seem not worthy of our attention. 
 The pleasantries of a waterman, the observations of a pea- 
 sant, the ribaldry of a porter or hackney coachman, all of 
 these are natural and disagreeable. What an insipid co- 
 medy should we make of the chit-chat of the tea-table, co- 
 pied faithfully and at full length? Nothing can please per- 
 sons of taste, but nature drawn with all her graces and or- 
 naments, la belle nature : or if we copy low life, the strokes 
 must be strong and remarkable, and must convey a lively 
 image to the mind. The absurd naivete of Sanco Panclio 
 is represented in such inimitable colours by Cervantes, that 
 it entertains as much as the picture of the most magnani- 
 mous hero or the softest lover. 
 
 The case is the same with orators, philosophers, critics, 
 or any author who speaks in his own person, without in- 
 troducing other speakers or actors. If his language be not 
 elegant; his observations uncommon, his sense strong and 
 masculine, he will in vain boast his nature and simplicity.
 
 OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT. 189 
 
 He may be correct ; but lie never will be agreeable. It is 
 the unhappiuess of such authors, that they are never blam- 
 ed or censured. The good foitune of a book, and that of 
 a man, are not the same. The secret deceiving path of 
 $fe, which Horace talks of, fallentis semita vita:, may be 
 the happiest lot of the one ; but is the greatest misfortune 
 which the other can possibly fall into. 
 
 On the other hand, productions which are merely sur- 
 prising, without being natural, can never give any lasting 
 entertainment to the mind. To draw chimeras, is not, 
 properly speaking, to copy or imitate. The justness of the 
 representation is lost, and the mind is displeased to find a 
 picture which boars no resemblance to any original. Nor 
 are such excessive refinements more agreeable in the epis- 
 tolary or philosophic style, than in the epic or tragic. Too 
 much ornament is a fault in every kind of production. Un- 
 common expressions, strong flashes of wit, pointed similes, 
 and epigrammatic turns, especially when they recur too 
 frequently, are a disfigurement, rather than any embellish- 
 ment of discourse. As the eye, in surveying a Gothic 
 building, is distracted by the multiplicity of ornaments, 
 and loses the whole by its minute attention to the parts ; so 
 the mind, in perusing a work overstocked with wit, is fa- 
 tigued and disgusted with the constant endeavour to shine 
 and surprise. This is the case where a writer overabounds 
 in wit, even though that wit, in itself, should be just and 
 agreeable. But it commonly happens to such writers, that 
 they seek for their favourite ornaments, even where the 
 subject does not afford them ; and by that means have twen- 
 ty insipid conceits for one thought which is really beauti- 
 ful. 
 
 There is no object in critical learning more copious 
 than this, of the just mixture of simplicity and refinement
 
 190 ESSAY XX. 
 
 in writing ; and therefore, not to wander in too large a 
 field, I shall confine myself to a few general observations 
 on that head. 
 
 First, I observe, That though excesses of both., kinds are 
 to be avoided, and though a proper medium ought to be stu* 
 died in all productions, yet this medium lies not in a point, 
 but admits of a considerable latitude. Consider the wide 
 distance, in this respect, between Mr Pope and Lucre- 
 tius. These seem to lie in the two greatest extremes of 
 reiii.vinent and simplicity in which a poet can indulge 
 himself, without being guilty of any blameable excess. All 
 this interval may be filled with poets who may differ from 
 each other, but may be equally admirable, each in his pe- 
 culiar style and manner. Corneille and Con/jreve, who 
 earn - their wit and refinement somewhat farther than Mr 
 Pope, 'if poets of so different a kind can be compared to- 
 gether,) and Sophocles and Terence, who are more simple 
 than Lucretius, seem to have gone out of that medium in 
 which the most perfect productions are found, and to be 
 guilty of some excess in these opposite characters. Or all 
 the great poets, Virgil and Racine, in my opinion, lie 
 nearest the centre, and are the farthest removed from both 
 the extremities. 
 
 My second observation on this head is, That it is very 
 difficult, if not impossible, to explain by "words where the just 
 medium lies between the excesses of simplicity and reffue- 
 inent, or to give any rule by which we can know precisely the 
 bounds between the fault and the beauty. A critic may not 
 only discourse very judiciously on this head without in- 
 structing his readers, but even without understanding the 
 matter perfectly himself. There is not a finer piece of 
 criticism than the Dissertation on Pastorals b\ routenelle, 
 in which, by a number of reflections and philosophical
 
 OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT. ]£1 
 
 reasonings, he endeavours to fix the just medium which is 
 suitable to that :-pecies of writing. But let any one read 
 the pastorals of that author, and he will be convinced that 
 this judicious critic, notwithstanding his fine reasonings, 
 had a false taste, and fixed the point of perfection much 
 nearer the extreme of refinement than pastoral poetry will 
 admit of. The sentiments of his shepherds are better 
 suited to the toilettes of Paris than to the forests of Arca- 
 dia. But this it is impossible to discover from his critical 
 reasonings. He blames all excessive painting and orna- 
 ment as much as Virgil could have done, had that great 
 poet wrote a dissertation on this species of poetry. How- 
 ever different the tastes of men, their general discourse on 
 these subjects is commonly the same. No criticism can 
 be instructive which descends not to particulars, and is 
 not full of examples and illustrations. It is allowed on all 
 hands, that beauty, as well as virtue, always lies in a me- 
 dium ; but where this medium is placed is a great ques- 
 tion, and can never be sufficiently explained by general 
 reasonings. 
 
 I shall deliver it as a third observation on this subject, 
 That we ought to be more on our guard against the excess of 
 refinement than that of simplicity ; and that because the for- 
 mer excess is both less beautiful, and more dangerous than 
 the latter. 
 
 It is a certain rule, that wit and passion are entirely 
 incompatible. When the affections arc moved, there is 
 no place for the imagination. The mind of man beino- 
 naturally limited, it is impossible that all its faculties can 
 operate at once j and the more any one predominates, the 
 less room is there for the others to exert their vigour. 
 For this reason, a greater degree of simplicity is required 
 in all compositions where men, and actions, and passions
 
 192 ESSAY XX. 
 
 are painted, than in such as consist of reflections and ob- 
 servations. And as the former species of writing is the 
 more engaging and beauthul, one may safely, upon this 
 account, give the preference to the extreme of simplicity 
 above that of refinement. 
 
 We may also observe, that those compositions which 
 we read the oftenest, and which every man of taste has 
 got by heart, have the recommendation of simplicity, and 
 have nothing surprising in the thought, when divested of 
 thai elegance of expression, and harmony of numbers, with 
 which it is clothed. If the merit of the composition lie in 
 a point of wit, it may strike at first ; but the mind antici- 
 pates, the thought in the second perusal, and is no longer 
 affected by it. When 1 read an epigram of Martial, the 
 first line recalls the whole ; and I have no pleasure in re- 
 peating to myself what 1 know already. But each iine, 
 each word in Catullus has its merit, and I am never tired 
 with the perusal of him. It is sufficient to run over Cow- 
 ley once ; but Parnell, after the fiftieth reading, is as fresh 
 as at the first. Besides, it is with books as with women, 
 where a certain plainness of manner and of dress is more 
 engaging than '.hat glare of paint, and airs, and apparel 
 which may dazzle the eye, but reaches not the affections. 
 Terence is a modest and bashful beauty, to whom we 
 grant every tiling, because he assumes nothing, and whose 
 purity and nature make a durable, though not a violent 
 impression on us. 
 
 But refinement, as it is the less beaut[f?d, so is it the 
 niore dangerous extreme, and what we are the aptest to 
 fall into. Simplicity passes for duiness, when it is not ac- 
 companied with great elegance and propriety. On the 
 contrary, there is something surprising in a blaze of wit 
 and conceit. Ordinary readers are mightily struck with
 
 ©N TASTE AND REFINEMENT. 193 
 
 it, and falsely imagine it to be the most difficult, as well 
 as most excellent way of writing. Seneca abounds with 
 agreeable faults, says Quintilian, abundat dulcibus vitiis ; 
 and for that reason is the more dangerous, and the more 
 apt to pervert the taste of the young and inconsiderate. 
 
 I shall add, that the excess of refinement is now more 
 to be guarded against than ever ; because it is the extreme 
 which men arc the most apt to fall into 5 after learning has 
 made some progress, and after eminent writers have ap- 
 peared in every species of composition. The endeavour 
 to please by novelty leads men wide of simplicity and na- 
 ture, r.ud fills their writings with affectation and conceit. 
 It was thus the Asiatic eloquence degenerated so much 
 from the Attic. It vv s thus the age of Claudius and Nero 
 became so much inferior to that of Augustus in taste and 
 genius. And perhaps there are, at present, some symptoms 
 of a like degeneracy of taste in France, as well as in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 ESSAY XXL 
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 
 
 1 he vulgar are apt to carry all national characters to ex- 
 tremes ; and, having once established it as a principle, that 
 any people are knavish, or cowardly, or ignorant, they 
 will admit of no exception, but comprehend every indh'N 
 dual under the same censure. Men of sense condemn 
 these undistinguishing judgments ; though, at the same 
 time, they allow that each nation has a peculiar set of man- 
 ners, and that some particular qualities are more frequent- 
 ly to be met with among one people than among their 
 neighbours. The common people in Switzerland have 
 probably more honesty than those of the same rank in Ire- 
 land ; and every prudent man will, from that circumstance 
 alone, make a difference in the trust which he reposes in 
 each. We have reason to expect greater wit and gaiety 
 in a Frenchman than in a Spaniard ; though Cervantes 
 was born in Spain. An Englishman will naturally be sup- 
 posed to have more knowledge than a Dane ; though 
 Tycho Brahe was a native of Denmark. 
 
 Different reasons are assigned for these national charac- 
 ters ; while some account for them from moral, others from 
 physical causes. By moral causes, 1 mean all circumstances, 
 which are fitted to work on the mind as motives or rea- 
 sons, and which render a peculiar set of manners habitual
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS, 195 
 
 to us. Of this kind are, the nature of the government, the 
 revolutions of public affairs, the plenty or penury in which 
 the people live, the situation of the nation with regard to 
 its neighbours, and such like circumstances. By physical 
 causes, I mean those qualities of the air and climate, 
 which are supposed to work insensibly on the temper, by 
 altering the tone and habit of the body, and giving a par- 
 ticular complexion, which, though reflection and reason 
 may sometimes overcome it, will yet prevail among the 
 generality of mankind, and have an influence on their man- 
 ners. 
 
 That the character of a nation will much depend on 
 moral causes, must be evident to the most superficial ob- 
 server ; since a nation is nothing but a collection of indi- 
 viduals, and the manners of individuals are frequently de- 
 termined by these causes. As poverty and hard labour 
 debase the minds of the common people, and render them 
 unfit for any science and ingenious profession ; so, where 
 any government becomes very oppressive to all its subjects, 
 it must have a proportional effect on their temper and ge- 
 nius, and must banish all the liberal arts from among them. 
 
 The same principle of moral causes fixes the character 
 of different professions, and alters even that disposition, 
 which the particular members receive from the hand of 
 nature. A soldier and a priest are different characters, in 
 all nations, and all ages; and this difference is founded 
 on circumstances whose operation is eternal and unalter- 
 able. 
 
 The uncertainty of their life makes soldiers lavish and 
 generous, as well as brave : Their idleness, together with 
 the large societies which they form in camps or garrisons, 
 inclines them to pleasure and gallantry : By their frequent 
 change of company, they acquire good breeding and an
 
 196 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 openness of behaviour : Being employed only against a 
 public and an open enemy, they become candid, honest, 
 and undesigning : And as they use more the labour of the 
 body than that of the mind, they are commonly thought- 
 less and ignorant a . 
 
 It is a trite, but not altogether a false maxim, that 
 •priests of all religions are the same ; and though the cha- 
 racter of the profession will not, in every instance, prevail 
 over the personal character, yet it is sure always to pre- 
 dominate with the greater number. For as chemists ob- 
 serve, that spirits, when raised to a certain height, are all 
 the same, from whatever materials they be extracted ; so 
 these men, being elevated above humanity, acquire a uni- 
 form character, which is entirely their own, and which, in 
 my opinion, is, generally speaking, not the most amiable 
 that is to be met with in human society. It is, in most 
 points, opposite to that of a soldier ; as is the way of life, 
 from which it is derived b . 
 
 As to physical causes, I am inclined to doubt altogether 
 of their operation in this particular-, nor do I think that 
 men owe any thing of their temper or genius to the air, 
 food, or climate. I confess, that the contrary opinion may 
 justly, at first sight, seem probable : since we find, that 
 these circumstances have an influence over every other ani- 
 mal, and that even those creatures, which are fitted to live 
 in all climates, such as dogs, horses, &c. do not attain the 
 same perfection in all. The courage of bull-dogs and 
 game-cocks seems peculiar to England. Flanders is re- 
 markable for large and heavy horses : Spain for horses 
 light, and of good mettle. And any breed of these crea- 
 tures, transplanted from one country to another, will soo;i 
 
 ' See Note [H.] " Sec Note [I.]
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 197 
 
 lose the qualities which they derived from their nntive cli- 
 mate. It may be asked, why not the same with men a ? 
 
 There are fcvr questions more curious than this, or 
 which will oftener occur in our inquiries concerning hu- 
 man affairs ; and therefore it may be proper to give it a 
 full examination. 
 
 The human mind is of a very imitative nature; nor is 
 it possible for any set of men to converse often together, 
 without acquiring a similitude of manners, and communi- 
 cating to each other their vices as well as virtues. The 
 propensity to company and society is strong in all rational 
 creatures ; and the same disposition, which gives us this 
 propensity, makes us enter deeply into each other's senti- 
 ments, and causes like passions and inclinations to run, as 
 it were, by contagion, through the whole club or knot of 
 companions. Where a number of men are united into 
 one political body, the occasions of their intercourse must 
 be so frequent, for defence, commerce, and government, 
 that, together with the same speech or language, they 
 must acquire a resemblance in their manners, and have a 
 common or national character, as well as a personal one, 
 peculiar to each individual. Now, though nature produces 
 all kinds of temper and understanding in great abundance, 
 it does not follow, that she always produces them in like 
 proportions, and that in every society the ingredients of in- 
 dustry and indolence, valour and cowardice, humanity and 
 brutality, wisdom and folly, will be mixed after the same 
 manner. In the infancy of society, if any of these disposi- 
 tions be found in greater abundance than the rest, it will 
 naturally prevail in the composition, and give a tincture to 
 the national character. Or should it be asserted, that no 
 
 * See Note r K.~
 
 19S I'SSAY XXI. 
 
 species of temper can reasonably be presumed to predo- 
 minate, even in those contracted societies, and that the 
 same proportions will always be preserved in the mixture j 
 yet surely the persons in credit and authority, being a still 
 more contracted body, cannot always be presumed to be 
 of the same character; and their influence on the manners 
 of the people must, at all times, be very considerable. If, 
 on the first establishment of a republic, a Brutus should be 
 placed in authority, and be transported with such an en- 
 thusiasm for liberty and public good, as to overlook all the 
 ties of nature, as well as private interest, such an illustrious 
 example will naturally have an effect on the whole society, 
 and kindle the same passion in every bosom. Whatever 
 it be that forms the manners of one generation, the next 
 must imbibe a deeper tincture of the same dye ; men 
 being more susceptible of all impressions during infancy, 
 and retaining these impressions as long as they remain in 
 the world. I assert, then, that all national characters, 
 where they depend not on fixed moral causes, proceed from 
 such accidents as these, and that physical causes have no 
 discernible operation on the human mind. It is a maxim 
 in all philosophy, that causes which do not appear, are to 
 be considered as not existing. 
 
 If we run over the globe, or revolve the annals of history, 
 we shall discover every where signs of a sympathy or con- 
 tagion of manners, none of the influence of air or climate. 
 
 First, ^Ye may observe, that where a very extensive 
 government has been established for many centuries, it 
 spreads a national character over the whole empire, and 
 communicates to every part a similarity of manners. Thus 
 the Chinese have the greatest uniformity of character 
 imaginable, though the air and climate, in different parts
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 199 
 
 of those vast dominions, admit of very considerable varia- 
 tions. 
 
 Secondly, In small governments, which are contiguous, 
 the people have notwithstanding a different character, and 
 are often as distinguishable in their manners as the most 
 distant nations. Athens and Thebes were but a short day's 
 journey from each other ; though the Athenians were as 
 remarkable for ingenuity, politeness, and gaiety, as the 
 Thebans for dulness, rusticity, and a phlegmatic temper. 
 Plutarch, discoursing of the effects of air on the minds of 
 men, observes, that the inhabitants of the Piraeum possessed 
 very different tempers from those of the higher town in 
 Athens, which was distant about four miles from the for- 
 mer : But I believe no one attributes the difference of 
 manners, in Wapping and St James's, to a difference of 
 air or climate. 
 
 Thirdly, The same national character commonly follows 
 the authority of government, to a precise boundary ; and 
 upon crossing a river or passing a mountain, one finds a 
 new set of manners, with a new government. The Lan- 
 guedocians and Gascons are the gayest people in France > 
 but whenever you pass the Pyrenees, you are among 
 Spaniards. Is it conceivable, that the qualities of the air 
 should change exactly with the limits of an empire, which 
 depend so much on the accidents of battles, negociations, 
 and marriages ? 
 
 Fourthly, Where any set of men, scattered over distant 
 nations, maintain a close society or communication to- 
 gether, they acquire a similitude of manners, and have but 
 little in common with the nations amongst whom they live. 
 Thus the Jews in Europe, and the Armenians in the east, 
 have a peculiar character ; and the former are as much
 
 200 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 noted for fraud, as the latter for probity a . The Jesuits in 
 all It-man Catholic countries are also observed to have a 
 character peculiar to themselves. 
 
 Fifthly t Where an accident, as a difference in language 
 or religion, keeps two nations, inhabiting the same coun- 
 try, from mixing with each other, they will perserve, du- 
 ring -evcral centuries, a distinct and even opposite set of 
 m .nneis. The integrity, gravity, and bravery of the Turks, 
 fo: m an exact contrast to the deceit, levity, and cowardice 
 of the modern Greeks. 
 
 Sixthly, The same set of manners will follow a nation, 
 and adhere to them o\er the whole globe, as well as the 
 same laws and language. The Spanish, English, French 
 and Dutch colonies, are all distinguishable even between 
 the ti :pics. 
 
 Seventhly, The manners of a people change very con- 
 siderably from one age to another j either by great altera- 
 tions in their government, by the mixtures of new people, 
 or by that inconstancy, to which all human affairs are sub- 
 ject. The ingenuity, industry, and activity of the ancient 
 Greeks, have nothing in common with the stupidity and 
 indolence of the present inhabitants of those regions. 
 Candour, bravery, and love of liberty, formed the character 
 of 'Ju. ancient Romans; as subtlety, cowardice, and a sla- 
 vish disposition, do that of the modern. The old Spaniards 
 were i ostlers, turbulent, and so addicted to war, tnat many 
 of i hem kiilec themselves when deprived of their a ;ns by 
 the Romans b . One would find ar equal difficulty at pre- 
 sent (at 'east one would have found it fifty years ago) to 
 rouse up the modern Spaniards to arms. The Batavians 
 
 a See K-r [L.] 
 - Tn. Livii, lib, xxjuv', cap. IT.
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 201 
 
 were all soldiers of fortune, and hired themselves into the 
 Roman armies. Their posterity make use of foreigners 
 for the same purpose that the Romans did their ancestors. 
 Thou !i some few strokes of the French character be the 
 sam with that which Ca?sar has ascribed to the Gauls ; 
 vet what comparison between the civility, humanity, and 
 knowledge of the modern inhabitants of that country, and 
 the ignorance, barbarity, and grossness of the ancient ? 
 Not tc insist upon the great difference between the present 
 possessors of Britain, and those before the Roman con- 
 quest; we may observe that our ancestors, a few centuries 
 ago, were sunk into the most abject superstition ; last cen- 
 tury they were inflamed with the most furious enthusiasm, 
 and are now settled into the most cool indifference with re- 
 card to religious matters, that is to be found in anv nation 
 
 DO' * 
 
 of the world. 
 
 Eighthly, Where several neighbouring nations have a 
 very close communication together, either by policy, com- 
 merce, or travelling, they acquire a similitude of manners, 
 proportioned to the communication. Thus all the Franks 
 appear to have a uniform character to the eastern nations. 
 The differences among them are like the peculiar accents 
 of different provinces, which are not distinguishable except 
 by an ear accustomed to them, and which commonly escape 
 a foreigner. 
 
 Ninthly, We may often remark a wonderful mixture of 
 manners and characters in the same nation, speaking the 
 same language, and subject to the same government : And 
 in this particular the English are the most remarknble of 
 any people that perhaps ever were in the world. Nor is 
 this to be ascribed to the mutability and uncertainty of their 
 climate, or to any other physical causes: since all these 
 causes take place in the neighbouring country of Scotland,
 
 202 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 without having the same effect. Where the government 
 of a nation is altogether republican, it is apt to beget a 
 peculiar set of manners. Where it is altogether monarch- 
 ical, it is more apt to have the same effect ; the imitation 
 of superiors spreading the national manners faster among 
 the people. If the governing part of a state consist altoge- 
 ther of merchants, as in Holland, their uniform way of life 
 will fix their character. If it consists chiefly of nobles and 
 landed gentry, like Germany, France, and Spain, the same 
 effect follows. The genius of a particular sect or reli- 
 gion is also apt to mould the manners of a people. But 
 the English government is a mixture of monarchy, aristo- 
 cracy, and democracy. The people in authority are com- 
 posed of gentry and merchants. All sects of religion are 
 to be found among them. And the great liberty and in- 
 dependency, which every man enjoys, allows him to display 
 the manners peculiar to him. Hence the English, of any 
 people in the universe, have the least of a national charac- 
 ter ; unless this very singularity may pa^s for such. 
 
 If the characters of men depended on the air and cli- 
 mate, the degrees of heat and cold should naturally be ex- 
 pected to have a mighty influence ; since nothing has a 
 greater effect on all plants and irrational animals. And 
 indeed there is some reason to think, that all the nations, 
 which live beyond the polar circles or between the tropics, 
 are inferior to the rest of the species, and are incapable of 
 all the higher attainments of the human mind. The po- 
 verty and misery of the northern inhabitants of the globe, 
 and the indolence of the southern, from their few necessi- 
 ties, may, perhaps, account for this remarkable difference, 
 without our having recourse to physical causes. This, 
 however, is certain, that the characters of nations are very 
 promiscuous in the temperate climates, and that almost all
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTER*. 203 
 
 the general observations, which have been formed of the 
 more southern or more northern people "m these climates, 
 are found to be uncertain and fallacious". 
 
 Shall we say, that the neighbourhood of the sun inflames 
 the imagination of men, and gives it a peculiar spirit and 
 vivacity ? The French, Greeks, Egyptians and Persians, 
 are remarkable for gaiety. The Spaniards, Turks, and 
 Chinese, are noted for gravity and a serious deportment, 
 without any such difference of climate as to produce this 
 difference of temper. 
 
 The Greeks and Romans, who called all other nations 
 barbarians, confined genius and a fine understanding to 
 the more southern climates, and pronounced the northern 
 nations incapable of all knowledge and civility. But our 
 island has produced as great men, either for action or 
 learning, as Greece or Italy r^e- f.<- boast of. 
 
 It is pretended, that the sentiments of men become more 
 delicate as the country approaches nearer to the sun ; and 
 that the tastf of beauty and elegance receives proportional 
 improvements in every latitude; as we particularly observe 
 of the languages, of which the more southern are smooth 
 and melodious, the northern harsh and untunable. But 
 this observation holds not universally. The Arabic is 
 uncouth and disagreeable : The Muscovite soft and musi- 
 cal. Energy, strength, and harshness, form the character 
 of the Latin tongue : The Italian is the most liquid, 
 smooth, and effeminate language that can possibly be ima- 
 gined. Every language will depend somewhat on the man- 
 ners of the people j but much more on that original stock 
 of words and sounds, which they received from their an- 
 cestors, and which remain unchangeable, even while their 
 
 a See Note [Ml
 
 204- essay xxr. 
 
 manners admit of the greatest alterations. Who can doubt, 
 but the English are at present a more polite and knowing 
 people than the Greeks were for several ages after the siege 
 of Troy ? Yet is there no comparison between the lan- 
 guage of Milton and that of Homer. Nay, the greater 
 the alterations and improvements, which happen in the 
 manners of a people, the less can be expected in their lan- 
 guage. A few eminent and refined geniuses will commu- 
 nicate their taste and knowledge to a whole people, and 
 produce the greatest improvements ; but they fix the tongue 
 by their writings, and prevent, in some degree, its farther 
 changes. 
 
 Lord Bacon has observed, that the inhabitants of the 
 south are. in general, more ingenious than those of the 
 north ; but that, where the native of a cold climate has ge- 
 nius, he rises to a higher pitch than can be reached by the 
 southern wits. This observation a late a writer confirms, 
 by comparing the southern wits to cucumbers, which are 
 commonly all good in their kind; but at best are an insi- 
 pid fruit : While the northern geniuses are like melons, of 
 which not one in fifty is good ; but when it is so, it has an 
 exquisite relish. I believe this remark may be allowed 
 just, when confined to the European nations, and to the 
 present age, or rather to the preceding one : But I think 
 it may be accounted for from moral causes. All the sciences 
 and liberal arts have been imported to us from the south ; 
 and it is easy to imagine, that, in the first order of appli- 
 cation, when excited by emulation and by glory, the fcv,- y 
 who were addicted to them, would carry them to the great- 
 est height, and stretch every nerve, and every faculty, to 
 reach the pinnacle of perfection. Such illustrious exam- 
 
 * Dr Berkeley. Minute I'hiloboplier.
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 205 
 
 pies spread knowledge every where, and beget an univer- 
 sal esteem for the sciences: After which, it is no wonder 
 that industry relaxes ; while men meet not with suitable 
 encouragement, nor arrive at such distinction by their at- 
 tainments. The universal diffusion of learning among a 
 people and the entire banishment of gross ignorance 
 and rusticity, is, therefore, seldom attended with any re- 
 markable perfection in particular persons. It seems to be 
 taken for granted in the dialogue de Oraloribus, that know- 
 ledge was much more common in Vespasian's age than in 
 that of Cicero and Augustus. Quintilian also complains 
 of the profanation of learning, by its becoming too com- 
 mon. " Formerly," says Juvenal, " science was confined 
 to Greece and Italy. Now the whole world emulates 
 Athens and Rome. Eloquent Gaul has taught Britain, 
 knowing in the laws. Even Thulc entertains thoughts of 
 luring rhetoricians for its instruction a ." This state of 
 learning is remarkable: because Juvenal is himself the last 
 of the Roman writers that possessed any degree of genius. 
 Those who succeeded are valued for nothing but the mat- 
 ters of fact of which they give us information. I hope 
 the late conversion of Muscovy to the staidy of the sciences 
 will not prove a like prognostic to the present period of 
 learning. 
 
 Cardinal Bentivoglio gives the preference to the north- 
 ern nations above the southern with regard to candour 
 and sincerity; and mentions, on the one hand, the Spaniards 
 and Italians, and on the other, the Flemings and Ger- 
 
 a ,: Sed Cantaber undc 
 Stoieus, antiqui prresertim estate Metelli ? 
 Nunc totus Grains, nostrasquc habet orbis Athenas. 
 Ciallia causidicos docuit facunda Britanuos: 
 De conducendo loquitur jam rhetore Thulc-" Sat. \o>
 
 £06 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 mans. But I am apt to think, that this has happened by 
 accident. The ancient Romans seem to have been a can- 
 did, sincere people, as arc the modern Turks. But if we 
 must needs suppose, that this event has arisen from fixed 
 causes, we may only conclude from it, that all extremes are 
 apt to concur, and are commonly attended with the same 
 consequences. Treachery is the usual concomitant of ig- 
 norance and barbarism ; and if civilized nations ever em- 
 brace subtle and crooked politics, it is from an excess of 
 refinement, which makes them disdain the plain direct path 
 to power and glory. 
 
 Most conquests have gone from north to south ; and it 
 has hence been inferred, that the northern nations possess 
 a superior degree of courage and ferocity : But it would 
 have been juster to have said, that most conquests are made 
 by poverty and want, upon plenty and riches. The Sara- 
 cens, leaving the deserts of Arabia, carried their conquests 
 northwards upon all the fertile provinces of the Roman 
 empire ; and met the Turks half way, who were coming 
 southwards from the deserts of Tartary. 
 
 An eminent writer " has remarked, that all courageous 
 animals are also carnivorous, and that greater courage is 
 to be expected in a people, such as the English, whose food 
 is strong and hearty, than in the half-starved commonalty 
 <>f other countries. But the Swedes, notwithstanding their 
 disadvantages in this particular, are not inferior, in martial 
 courage, to any nation that ever was in the world. 
 
 In general, we may observe, that courage, of all national 
 qualities, is the most precarious ; because it is exerted only 
 at intervals, and by a few in every nation ; whereas indus- 
 try, knowledge, civility, may be of constant and universal 
 use, and for several ages may become habitual to the whoh 
 
 Fir William Temple's Account of t-ie Netherlands
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 207 
 
 people. If courage be preserved, it must be by discipline, 
 example, and opinion. The tenth legion of Caesar, and 
 the regiment of Picardy in France, were formed promis- 
 cuously from among the citizens ; but having once enter- 
 tained a notion, that they were the best troops in the ser- 
 vice, this very opinion really made them such. 
 
 As a proof how much courage depends on opinion, we 
 may observe, that, of the two chief tribes of the Greeks, 
 the Dorians and lonians, the former were always esteem- 
 ed, and always appeared more brave and manly than the 
 latter ; though the colonies of both the tribes were inter- 
 spersed and intermingled throughout all the extent of 
 Greece, the Lesser Asia, Sicily, Italy, and the islands of 
 the iEgean sea. The Athenians were the only lonians 
 that ever had any reputation for valour or military achieve- 
 ments ; though even these were deemed inferior to the La- 
 cedemonians, the bravest of the Dorians. 
 
 The only observation, with regard to the difference of 
 men in different climates, on which we can rest any weight, 
 is the vulgar one, that people in the northern regions have 
 a greater inclination to strong liquors, and those in the 
 southern to love and women. One can assign a very pro- 
 bable physical cause for this difference. Wine and distill- 
 ed waters warm the frozen blood in the colder climates, 
 and fortify men against the injuries of the weather : As the 
 genial heat of the sun, in the countries exposed to his 
 beams, inflames the blood and exalts the passion between 
 the sexes. 
 
 Perhaps, too, the matter may be accounted for by moral 
 causes. All strong liquors are rarer in the north, and con- 
 sequently are more coveted. Diodorus Siculus a tells us, 
 
 a Lib. v. The same author ascribes taciturnity to that people ; a new proof 
 that national characters may alter very much. Taciturnity, as a national
 
 208 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 that the Gauls in his time were great drunkards, and much 
 addicted to wine; chicriy, I >,upp >s ', from us rarity and 
 novelty. On the other hand, the lic.t in the southern cli- 
 mates, obliging men ana woman to go half naked, thereby 
 renders their frequent commerce more dangerous, and in- 
 flames their mutual passion. This makes parents and hus- 
 bands more jealous and reserved ; which stili farther in- 
 flames the passion. Not to mention, that as women ri- 
 pen sooner in the southern regions, it is necessary to ob- 
 serve greater jealousy and care in their education ; it be- 
 ing evident, that a girl of twelve cannot possess equal dis- 
 cretion to govern this passion, with one that feels not its 
 violence till she be seventeen or eighteen. Nothing so 
 much encourages the passion of love as ease and leisure, 
 or is more destructive to it than industry and hard labour ; 
 and as the necessities of men are evidently fewer in the 
 warm climates than in the cold ones, this circumstance a- 
 lone may make a considerable difference between them. 
 
 But perhaps the fact is doubtful, that nature has, either 
 from moral or physical causes, distributed their respective 
 inclination to the different climates. The ancient Greeks, 
 though born in a warm climate, seem to have been much 
 addicted to the bottle; nor were their parties of pleasure 
 any thing but matches of drinking among men, who pass- 
 ed their time altogether apart from the fair. Yet when 
 Alexander led the Greeks into Persia, a still more south- 
 ern climate, they multiplied their debauches of this kind, 
 in imitation of the Persian manners ;i . So honourable was 
 the character of a drunkard among the Persians, that Cy- 
 
 cliaractcr, implies unsociableness. Aristotle, in hi^ Politics, hock ii. cap. 2. 
 savs, that the Gauls are the only warlike nation who are negligent of women. 
 
 1 Babylanii maxime in vinum, et que': cbrietatem s.'yuiaitur, fjf'usi sunt. 
 Qlixt. Cur. lib. v, cap. 1.
 
 ON NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 203 
 
 rus the younger, soliciting the sober Lacedemonians for 
 succour against his brother Artaxerxes, claims it chiefly on 
 account of his superior endowments, as more valorous, 
 more bountiful, and a better drinker a . Darius Hy-.iaspes 
 made it be inscribed on his tomb-stone, among his other 
 virtues and princely qualities, that no one could bear a 
 greater quantity of liquor. You may obtain any thing of 
 the JSegroes by offering them strong drink ; and may easily 
 prevail with them to sell, not only their children, bui their 
 wives and mistresses, for a cask of brandy. In France and 
 Italy few drink pure wine, except in the greatest iieats of 
 summer ; and, indeed, it is then almost as necessary, in or- 
 der to recruit the spirits, evaporated by heat, as it is in 
 Sweden, during the winter, in order to warm the bodies 
 congealed by the rigour of the season. If jealousy be re- 
 garded as a proof of an amorous disposition, no people 
 were more jealous than the Muscovites, before their com- 
 munication with Europe had somewhat altered their man- 
 ners in this particular. 
 
 But supposing the fact true, that nature, by physical 
 principles, has regularly distributed these two passion^, the 
 one to the northern, the other to the southern rco-ion* ; we 
 can only infer, that the climate ma} r affect the grosser aud 
 more bodily organs of our frame, not that it can work on 
 those finer organs, on which the operations ci the mind 
 and understanding depend. And this is Lig'-eeable to the 
 analogy of nature. The races of animals never degenerate 
 when carefully attended to ; and horses, in particular, al- 
 ways show their blood in their shape, spirit, and swiftness : 
 But a coxcomb may beget a philosopher j as a man of vir- 
 tue may leave a worthless progeny. 
 
 * Plut. Syrap. lib. i. qutest. 4. 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 I shall conclude this subject with observing, that though 
 the passion for liquor be more brutal and debasing than 
 love, which, when properly managed, is the source of all 
 politeness and refinement j yet this gives not so great an 
 advantage to the southern climates, as we may be apt, at 
 first sight, to imagine. When love goes beyond a certain 
 pitch, it renders men jealous, and cuts off the free inter- 
 course between the sexes, on which the politeness of a na- 
 tion will commonly much depend. And if we would subti- 
 lize and refine upon this point, we might observe, that the 
 people, in very temperate climates, are the most likely to 
 attain all sorts of improvement ; their blood not being so 
 inflamed as to render them jealous, and yet being warm 
 enough to make them set a due value on the charms and 
 endowments of the fair sex.
 
 ESSAY XXII. 
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 
 
 It seems an unaccountable pleasure, which the spectators 
 of a well-written tragedy receive from sorrow, terror, an- 
 xiety, and other passions that are in themselves disagree- 
 able and uneasy. The more they are touched and affect- 
 ed, the more are they delighted with the spectacle ; mni as 
 soon as the uneasy passions cease to operate, "he pie e is 
 at an end. One scene of fall joy and contentment ariu se- 
 curity is the utmost that any composition of tfi e kind can 
 bear; and it is sui - e always to be the concluding one. If 
 in the texture of the piece, there be interwoven any scenes 
 of satisfaction, they afford only faint gleams of pleasure, 
 which are thrown in by way of variety, and in order to 
 plunge the actors into deeper distress by mea.is of that 
 contrast and disappointment. The whole art of the poet is 
 employed, in rousing and supporting the compassion and 
 indignation, the anxiety and resentment, of his audience. 
 They are pleased in proportion as they are afflicted, and 
 never are so happy as when they employ tears, sobs and 
 cries, to give vent to their sorrow, and relieve their heart, 
 swoln with the tenderest sympathy and compassion. 
 
 The few critics who have had some tinctuie of philoso- 
 phy, have remarked this singular phenomenon, and have 
 endeavoured to account for it.
 
 212 essay xxir. 
 
 L'Abbe Dubos, in his reflections on poetry and painting, 
 asserts, that nothing is in general so disagreeable to the 
 mind as the languid, listless state of indolence, into which 
 it falls upon the removal of all passion and occupation. 
 To get rid of this painful situation, it seeks every amuse- 
 ment and pursuit ; business, gaming, shows, executions ; 
 whatever will rouse the passions and take its attention from 
 itself. No matter what the passion is ; let it be disagree- 
 able, afflicting, melancholy, disordered ; it is still better 
 than that insipid languor, which arises from perfect tran- 
 quillity and repose. 
 
 It is impossible not to admit this account, as being, at 
 least in part, satisfactory. You may observe, when there 
 are several tables of gaming, that all the company run to 
 those where the deepest play is, even though they find 
 not there the best players. The view, or, at least, imagi- 
 nation of high passions, arising from great loss or gain, 
 affects the spectator by sympathy, gives him some touches 
 of the same passions, and serves him for a momentary en- 
 tertainment. It makes the time pass the easier with him, 
 and is some relief to that oppression, under which men 
 commonly labour, when left entirely to their own thoughts 
 and meditations. 
 
 We find that common liars always magnify, in their nar- 
 rations, all kinds of danger, pain, distress, sickness, deaths, 
 murders, and cruelties; as well as joy, beauty, mirth, and 
 magnificence. It is an absurd secret, which they have for 
 pleasing their company, fixing their attention, and attach- 
 ing them to such marvellous relations, by the passions and 
 emotions which they excite. 
 
 There is, however, a difficulty in applying to the pre- 
 sent subject, in its full extent, this solution, however in- 
 genious and satisfactory it may appear. It is certain, that
 
 Or TRAGEDY. 213 
 
 the same object of distress, which pleases in a tragedy, 
 were it really set before us, would give the most unfeigned 
 uneasiness ; though it be then the most effectual cure to 
 languor and indolence. Monsieur Fontenelle seems to 
 have been sensible of this difficulty ; and accordingly at- 
 tempts another solution of the phenomenon ; at least makes 
 some addition to the theory above mentioned a . 
 
 " Pleasure and pain," says he, " which are two senti- 
 " ments so different in themselves, differ not so much in 
 " their cause. From the instance of tickling, it appears, 
 *' that the movement of pleasure, pushed a little too far, 
 " becomes pain •, and that the movement of pain, a little 
 " moderate, becomes pleasure. Hence it proceeds, that 
 " there is such a thing as a sorrow, soft and agreeable : 
 " It is a pain weakened and diminished. The heart likes 
 " naturally to be moved and affected. Melancholy ob- 
 " jects suit it, and even disastrous and sorrowful, provided 
 " they are softened by some circumstance. It is certain, 
 " that, on the theatre, the representation has always the 
 " effect of reality ; yet it has not altogether that effect. 
 " However we may be hurried away by the spectacle; 
 " whatever dominion the senses and imagination may 
 tc usurp over the reason, there still lurks at the bottom a 
 fi certain idea of falsehood in the whole of what we see. 
 " This idea, though weak and disguised, suffices to di- 
 " minish the pain which we suffer from the misfortunes of 
 " those whom we love, and to reduce that affliction to such 
 " a pitch as converts it into a pleasure. We weep for the 
 " misfortune of a hero, to whom we are attached. In the 
 " same instant we comfort ourselves, by reflecting, that it 
 " is nothing but a fiction : And it is precisely that mix- 
 
 a Reflections sur la Politique, § 3C -
 
 214. essay x\ir. 
 
 " fure of sentiments, which composes an agreeable sorrow, 
 " and tears that delight us. But as that affliction, which 
 " is caused by extciior and sensible objects, is stronger 
 " than the consolation which arises from an internal reflec- 
 " tion, they are the effects and symptoms of sorrow, that 
 " aught to predominate in the composition," 
 
 This solution seems just and convincing; but perhaps 
 it wants still some new addition, in order to make it an- 
 swer fully the phenomenon which we here examine. All 
 the passions, excited by eloquence, are agreeable in the 
 highest degree, as well as those which are moved by paint- 
 ing and the theatre. The Epilogues of Cicero are, on 
 this account chiefly, the delight of every reader of taste ; 
 and it is difficult to read some of them without the deepest 
 sympathy and sorrow. His merit as an orator, no doubt, 
 depends much on his success in this particular. When 
 he had raised tears in his judges and a!l his audience, they 
 were then the most highly delighted, and expressed the 
 greatest satisfaction with the pleader. The pathetic de- 
 scription of the butchciy, made by Verres of the Sicilian 
 captains, is a masterpiece of this kind : But I believe none 
 will affirm, that the being present at a melancholy scene 
 of that nature would afford any entertainment. Neither 
 is the sorrow here softened by fiction ; for the audience 
 were convinced of the reality of every circumstance. What 
 is it., then, which in this case raises a pleasure from the 
 bosv.ni of measiness, so to speak; and a pleasure, which 
 stiJ . :tains a">J the features and outward symptoms of dis- 
 tress and sorrow ? 
 
 I answer : This extraordinary effect proceeds from that 
 very eloquence, with which the melancholy scene is repre- 
 sented. The zenius required to paint objects in a lively 
 manner, the art employed in collecting all the pathetic
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 215 
 
 circumstances, the judgment displayed in disposing them ; 
 the exercise, I say, oT these noble talents, together with 
 the force of expression, and beauty of oratorial numbers, 
 diffuse the highest satisfaction on the audience, and excite 
 the most delightful movements. By this means, the un- 
 easiness of the melancholy passions is not only overpower- 
 ed and effaced by something stronger of an opposite kind ; i 
 but the whole impulse of those passions is converted into \ 
 pleasure, and swells the delight which the eloquence raises ' 
 in us. The same force of oratory, employed on an unin- 
 teresting subject, would not please half so much, or rather 
 would appear altogether ridiculous ; and the mind, being 
 left in absolute calmness and indifference, would relish 
 none of those beauties of imagination or expression, which, 
 if joined to passion, give it such exquisite entertainment. 
 The impulse or vehemence, arising from sorrow, compas- 
 sion, indignation, receives a new direction from the senti- 
 ments of beauty. The latter, being the predominant mo- 
 tion, seize the whole mind, and convert the former into 
 themselves, at least tincture them so strongly as totally to 
 alter their nature. And the soul being, at the same time, 
 roused by passion, and charmed by eloquence, feels on the 
 whole a strong movement, which is altogether delightful. 
 
 The same principle takes place in tragedy j with this 
 addition, that tragedy is an imitation; and imitation is 
 always of itself agreeable. This circumstance serves still 
 farther to smooth the motions of passion, and convert the 
 whole feeling into one uniform and strong enjoyment. 
 Objects of the greatest terror and distress please in paint- 
 ing, and please more than the most beautiful objects that 
 appear calm and indifferent a . The affection, rousing the 
 
 * See Noik [N.]
 
 21© ESSAY XXII. 
 
 mind, excites a large stock of spirit and vehemence; which 
 isail ri ":ii; formed into pleasure by the force of the pre- 
 vailing - -vement. It is thus the fiction of tragedy softens 
 the ./assion, by an infusion of a new feeling, not merely by 
 weakening or diminishing the sorrow. You may by de- 
 grees veuken a real sorrow, till it totally disappears ; yet 
 in none of its gradations will it ever give pleasure; ex- 
 cept, perhaps, by accident, to a man sunk under lethargic 
 indolence, whom it rouses from that languid state. 
 
 To confirm this theory, it will be sufficient to produce 
 other instances, where the subordinate movement is con- 
 verted into the predominant, and gives force to it, though 
 of a different, and even sometimes though of a contrary 
 nature. 
 
 Noyeltv naturally rouses the mind, and attracts our at- 
 tention : and the movements which it causes are always 
 converted into any passion belonging to the object, and 
 join their force to it. Whether an event excite joy or sor- 
 row, pride or shame, anger or good-will, it is sure to pro- 
 duce a stronger affection, when new or unusual. And 
 though novelty of itself be agreeable, it fortifies the pain- 
 ful, as well as agreeable ptissions. 
 
 Had you any mtentioi. to move a person extremely by 
 the >■ n ration of any event, the best method of increasing 
 its effect would be artfully to delay informing him of it, 
 and first to excite his curiosity and impatience before you 
 let him into the secret. This is the artifice practised by 
 Iago in the famous scene of Shakespeare ; and every spec- 
 tator is sensible, that Othello's jealousy acquires additional 
 force from his preceding impatience, and that the subor- 
 dinate passion is here readily transformer into the predo- 
 minant one 
 
 Difficulties increase passions of every kind ; and by
 
 OE TRAGEDY. '217 
 
 rousing our attention, and exciting our active powers, they 
 produce an emotion, which nourishes the prevailing affec- 
 tion. 
 
 Parents commonly love that child most whose sickly, in- 
 firm frame of body, has occasioned them the greatest pains, 
 trouble, and anxiety, in rearing him. The agreeable sen- 
 timent of affection here acquires force from sentiments of 
 uneasiness. 
 
 Nothing endears so much a friend as sorrow for his 
 death. The pleasure of his company has not so powerful 
 an influence. 
 
 Jealousy is a painful passion ; yet without some share 
 of it, the agreeable affection of love has difficulty to sub- 
 sist in its full force and violence. Absence is also a great 
 source of complaint among lovers, and gives them the 
 greatest uneasiness : Yet nothing is more favourable to their 
 mutual passion than short intervals of that kind. And if 
 long intervals often prove fatal, it is only because, through 
 time, men are accustomed to them, and they cease to give 
 uneasiness. Jealousy and absence in love compose the 
 dolce piccante of the Italians, which they suppose so essen- 
 tial to all pleasure. 
 
 There is a fine observation of the elder Pliny, which il- 
 lustrates the principle here insisted on. " It is very re- 
 markable," says he, " that the last works of celebrated ar- 
 tists, which they left imperfect, are always the most prized, 
 such as the Iris of Aristides, the Tyndarides of Nico- 
 machus, the Medea of Timomachus, and the Venus of 
 Apelles. These are valued even above their finished pro- 
 ductions. The broken lineaments of the piece, and the 
 half-formed idea of the painter, are carefully studied , and 
 our very grief for that curious hand, which had been stop-
 
 '2 IS ESSAY XXII. 
 
 ped by death, is an additional increase to our plea- 
 sure a . 
 
 These instances (and many more might be collected) are 
 sufficient to afford us some insight into the analogy of na- 
 ture, and to show us, that the pleasure which poets, ora- 
 tors, and musicians give us, by exciting grief, sorrow, in- 
 dignation, compassion, is not so extraordinary or para- 
 doxical as it may at first sight appear. The force of ima- 
 gination, the energy of expression, the power of numbers, 
 the charms of imitation ; all these are naturally, of them- 
 selves, delightful to the mind : And when the object pre- 
 sented lays also hold of some affection, the pleasure still 
 rises upon us, by the conversion of this subordinate 
 movement into that which is predominant. The passion, 
 though perhaps naturally, and when excited by the simple 
 appearance of a real object, it may be painful ; yet is so 
 smoothed, and softened, and mollified, when raised by the 
 finer arts, that it affords the highest entertainment. 
 
 To confirm this reasoning, we may observe, that if the 
 movements of the imagination be not predominant above 
 those of the passion, a contrary effect follows ; and the 
 former, being now subordinate, is converted into the lat- 
 ter, and still farther increases the pain and affliction of the 
 sufferer. 
 
 Who could ever think of it as a good expedient for com- 
 forting an afflicted parent, to exaggerate, with all the force 
 of elocution, the irreparable loss which he has met with by 
 
 a I Hud vero perquam rarum ac memoria (lignum, etiam suprema opera 
 artificum, imperfectasque tabulas. sicut, Iris Aristidis, Tyndaridas Nico- 
 roachi, Medeam Timomaehi, et quam diximus Vjsnkiiem: Apellis, in majori 
 admiratione esse quam ptri'ecta. Quippe in iis lineamenta reliqua. ipsaeque 
 cogitationes artificum spectantur, atque in lenocinio eommendaUonis dolor 
 est rnanus, cum id ageret, extiuctae. Lib. xxxv, cap. 1 1 .
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 219 
 
 the death of a favourite child ? The more power of ima- 
 gination and expression you here employ, the more you 
 increase his despair and affliction. 
 
 The shame, confusion, and terror of Verres, no doubt, 
 rose in proportion to the noble eloquence and vehemence 
 of Cicero : So also did his pain and uneasiness. These 
 former passions were too strong for the pleasure arising 
 from the beauties of elocution ; and operated, though from 
 the same principle, yet in a contrary manner, to the sym- 
 pathy, compassion, and indignation of the audience. 
 
 Lord Clarendon, when he approaches towards the ca- 
 tastrophe of the royal party, supposes that his narration 
 must then become infinitely disagreeable ; and he hurries 
 over the king's death without giving; us one circumstance 
 of it. He considers it as too horrid a scene to be con- 
 templated with any satisfaction, or even without the utmost 
 pain and aversion. He himself, as well as the readers of 
 that age, were too deeply concerned in the events, and felt 
 a pain from subjects, which an historian and a reader of 
 another age would regard as the most pathetic and most 
 interesting, and, by consequence, the most agreeable. 
 
 An action, represented in tragedy, may be too bioody 
 and atrocious. It may excite such movements of horror as 
 will not soften into pleasure; and the greatest energy of 
 expression, bestowed on descriptions of that nature, serves 
 only to augment our uneasiness. Such is that action repre- 
 sented in the Ambitious Stepmother, where a venerable 
 old man, raised to the height of fury and despair, rushes 
 against a pillar, and, striking his head upon it, besmears 
 it all over with minified brains and ifore. The English 
 
 O CD O 
 
 theatre abounds too much with such shocking images. 
 
 Even the common sentiments of compassion require to 
 be softened by some agreeable affection, in order to give
 
 2.20 ESSAY XXII. 
 
 a thorough satisfaction to the audience. The mere suffer- 
 ing of plaintive virtue, under the triumphant tyranny and 
 oppression of vice, forms a disagreeable spectacle, and is 
 carefully avoided by all masters of tlie drama. In order 
 to dismiss the audience with entire satisfaction and con- 
 tentment, the virtue must either convert itself into a noble 
 courageous despair, or the vice receive its proper punish- 
 ment. 
 
 Most painters appear in this light to have been very un- 
 happy in their subjects. As they wrought much for churches 
 and convents, they have chiefly represented such horrible 
 subjects as crucifixions and martyrdoms, where nothing 
 appears but tortures, wounds, executions, and passive suf- 
 fering, without any action or affection. When they turn- 
 ed their pencil from this ghastly mythology, they had com- 
 monly recourse to Ovid, whose fictions, though passionate 
 and agreeable, are scarcely natural or probable enough for 
 painting. 
 
 The same inversion of that principle, which is here in- 
 sisted on, displays itself in common life, as in the effects of 
 oratory and poetry. Raise so the subordinate passion that 
 it becomes the predominant, it swallows up that affection 
 which it before nourished and increased. Too much jea- 
 lousy extinguishes love. Too much difficulty renders us 
 indifferent : Too much sickness and infirmity disgusts a 
 selfish and unkind parent. 
 
 What so disagreeable as the dismal, gloomy, disastrous 
 stories, with which melancholy people entertain their com- 
 panions ? The uneasy passion being there raised alone, 
 unaccompanied with any spirit, genius, or eloquence, con- 
 veys a pure uneasiness, and is attended with nothing that 
 can soften it into pleasure or satisfaction.
 
 ESSAY XXI11. 
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 
 
 I he great variety of Taste, as well as of opinion, which 
 prevails in the world, is too obvious not to have fallen un- 
 der every one's observation. Men of the most confined 
 knowledge are able to remark a difference of taste in the 
 narrow circle of their acquaintance, even where the per- 
 sons have been educated under the same government, and 
 have early imbibed the same prejudices. But those, who 
 can enlarge their view to contemplate distant nations and 
 remote ages, are still more surprised at the great inconsis- 
 tence and contrariety. We are apt to call barbarous what- 
 ever departs widely from our own taste and apprehension ; 
 but soon find the epithet of reproach retorted on us. And 
 the highest arrogance and self-conceit is at last startled, 
 On observing an equal assurance on all sides, and scruples, 
 amidst such a contest of sentiment, to pronounce positively 
 in its own favour. 
 
 As this variety of taste is obvious to the most careless 
 inquirer ; so will it be found, on examination, to be still 
 greater in reality than in appearance. The sentiments of 
 men often differ with regard to beauty and deformity of 
 all kinds, even while their general discourse is the same. 
 There are certain terms in every language, which import 
 blame, and others praise ; and all men, who use the same
 
 222 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 tongue, must agree in their application of them. Every 
 voice is united in applauding elegance, propriety, simpli- 
 city, spirit in writing ; and in blaming fustian, affectation, 
 coldness, and a false brilliancy : But when critics come to 
 particulars, this seeming unanimity vanishes; and it is 
 found, that they had affixed a vei) du. .nt meaning to 
 their expressions. In all matters of opinion and science, 
 the case is opposite : a lit. tiLTerence among men is there 
 oftener found to lie in generals than in particulars; and to 
 be less in reality than in appearance. An explanation of 
 the terms commonly ends the controversy ; and the dispu- 
 tants are surprised to find, that they had been quarrelling, 
 while at bottom they i.greed in their judgment. 
 
 Those who found morality en sentiment, more than on 
 reason, are inclined to comprehend ethics under the for- 
 mer observation, and to maintain, that, in all questions 
 which regard conduct and manners, the difference among 
 men is really greater than at first sight it appears. It is 
 indeed obvious, that writers of all nations and all ages con- 
 cur in applauding justice, humanity, magnanimity, pru- 
 dence, veracity •, and in blaming the opposite qualities. 
 Even poets and other authors, whose compositions arc 
 chiefly calculated to please the imagination, are yet found, 
 from Homer down to Fcnelon, to inculcate the same moral 
 precepts, and to bestow their applause and blame on the 
 same virtues and vices. This great unanimity is usually 
 ascribed to the influence of plain reason ; which, in all 
 these cases, maintains similar sentiments in all men, and 
 prevents those controversies, to which the abstract sciences 
 are so much exposed. So far as the unanimity is real, this 
 account may be admitted as satisfactory : But we must also 
 allow, that some part of the seeming harmony in morals 
 may be accounted for from the very nature of language,
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 223 
 
 The word virtue, with its equivalent in every tongue, im- 
 plies praise ; as that of vice does blame : And no man, with- 
 out the most obvious and grossest impropriety, could affix 
 reproach to a term, which in general acceptation is under- 
 stood in a good sense ; or bestow applause, where the 
 idiom requires disapprobation. Homer's general precepts, 
 where he delivers any such, will never be controverted ; 
 but it is obvious, that, when he draws particular pictures 
 of manners, and represents heroism in Achilles, and pru- 
 dence in Ulysses, he intermixes a much greater degree of 
 ferocity in the former, and of cunning and fraud in the lat- 
 ter, than Fenelon would admit of. The sage Ulysses in the 
 Greek poet seems to delight in lies and fictions, and often 
 employs them without any necessity or even advantage : But 
 his more scrupulous son, in the French epic %vritcr, expo- 
 ses himself to the most imminent perils, rather than depart 
 from the most exact line of truth and veracity. 
 
 The admirers and followers of the Alcoran insist on the 
 excellent moral precepts interspersed through that wild 
 and absurd performance. But it is to be supposed, that 
 the Arabic words, which correspond to the English, equity, 
 justice, temperance, meekness, charity, were such as, from 
 the constant use of that tongue, must always be taken in a 
 good sense : and it would have argued the greatest igno- 
 rance, not of morals, but of language, to have mentioned 
 them with any epithets, besides those of applause and ap- 
 probation. But would we know, whether the pretended 
 prophet had really attained a just sentiment of morals, 
 let us attend to his narration ; and we shall soon find, 
 that he bestows praise on such instances of treachery, in- 
 humanity, cruelty, revenge, bigotry, as are utterly incom- 
 patible with civilized society. No steady rule of right 
 seems there to be attended to ; and every action is blamed
 
 224; ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 or praised, so far only as it is beneficial or hurtful to the 
 true believers. 
 
 The merit of delivering true general precepts in ethics 
 is indeed very small. Whoever recommends any moral 
 virtues, really does no more than is implied in *hc terms 
 themselves. That people, who invented the word charity) 
 and used it in a good sense, inculcated more clearly and 
 much more efficaciously, the precej t, be cJiaritable y than 
 any pretended legislator or prophet, who shoal' 1 insert such 
 a maxim in his writings. Of all expressions, those which, 
 together with their other meaning, imply a degree cither 
 of blame or approbation, are the least liable to be pervert- 
 ed or mistaken. 
 
 It is natural for us to seek a Standard of taste ,• a rule, 
 by which the various sentiments of men may be reconciled ; 
 at least, a decision afforded, confirming one sentiment, and 
 condemning another. 
 
 There is a species of philosophy, which cuts off all hopes 
 of success in such an attempt, and represents the impossibi- 
 lity of ever attaining any standard of taste. The difference, 
 it is said, is very wide between judgjnent and sentiment. 
 All sentiment is right ; because sentiment has a reference 
 to nothing beyond itself, and is always real, wherever a 
 man is conscious of it. But all determinations of the un- 
 derstanding are not right ; because they have a reference 
 to something beyond themselves, to wit, real matter of fact ; 
 and are not always conformable to that standard. Among 
 a thousand different opinions which different men may en- 
 tertain of the same subject, there is one, and but one, that 
 is just and true: and the only difficulty is to fix and ascer- 
 tain it. On" the contrary, a thousand different sentiments, 
 excited by the same object, are all right ; because no sen- 
 timent represents what is really in the object. It only
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 225 
 
 marks a certain conformity or relation between the object 
 and the organs or faculties of the mind ; and if that con- 
 formity did not really exist, the sentiment could never pos- 
 sibly have being. Beauty is no quality in things them- 
 selves : It exists merely in the mind which contemplates 
 them ; and each mind perceives a different beauty. One 
 person may even perceive deformity, where another is sen- 
 sible of beauty ; and eve ry ind ividual ought to acquiesce 
 in his own sentiment, without pretending to regulate ihose 
 of others. To seek the real beauty, or real deformity, 
 is as fruitless an inquiry, as to pretend to ascertain the 
 real sweet or real bitter. According to the disposition of 
 the organs, the same object may be both sweet and bitter ; 
 and the proverb has justly determined it to be fruitless to 
 dispute concerning tastes. It is very natural, and even 
 quite necessary, to extend this axiom to mental, a* well as 
 bodily taste; and thus common sense, which is so often at 
 varience with philosophy, especially with the sceptical kind, 
 is found, in one instance at least, to agree in pronouncing 
 the same decision. 
 
 But though this axiom, by passing into a proverb, 
 seems to have attained the sanction of common sense ; 
 there is certainly a species ofjiojnmon sense, which oppo- 
 ses it, at least serves to modify and restrain it- Whoever 
 would assert an equality of genius and elegance between 
 Ogilby and Milton, or Bunyan and Addison, would be 
 thought to defend no less an extravagance, than if he had 
 maintained a mole-hill to be as high as Teneriffe, or a 
 pond as extensive as the ocean. Though there may be 
 found persons, who give the preference to the former au- 
 thors ; no one pays attention to such a taste ; and we pro- 
 nounce, without scruple, the sentiment of these pretended 
 critics to be absurd and ridiculous. The principle of the 
 
 TOE, I. Q
 
 226 essay xxiii. 
 
 natural equality of tastes is then totally forgot, and while 
 we admit it on some occasions, where the objects seem 
 near an equality, it appears an extravagant paradox, or ra- 
 ther a palpable absurdity, where objects so disproportion- 
 ed are compared together. 
 
 It is evident that none of the rules of composition are 
 fixed by reasonings a priori^ or can be esteemed abstract 
 conclusions of the uuderstanding, from comparing those 
 habitudes and relations of ideas, which are eternal and im- 
 mutable. Their foundation is the same with that of all 
 the practical sciences, experience ; nor are there any thing 
 but general observations, concerning what has been uni- 
 versally found to please in all countries and in all ages. 
 Many of the beauties of poetry, and even of eloquence, are 
 founded on falsehood and fiction, on hyperboles, meta- 
 phors, and an abuse or perversion of terms from their na- 
 tural meaning. To check the sallies of the imagination, 
 and to reduce every expression to geometrical truth and 
 exactness, would be the most contrary to the laws of criti- 
 cism ; because it would produce a work, which, by uni- 
 versal experience, has been found the most insipid and 
 disagreeable. But though poetry can never submit to ex- 
 act truth, it must be confined by rules of art, discovered 
 to the author either by. genius or observation. If some ne- 
 gligent or irregular writers have pleased, they have not 
 pleased by their transgressions of rule or order, but in spite 
 of these transgressions : They have possessed other beau- 
 ties, which were conformable to just criticism ; and the 
 force of these beauties has been able to overpower censure, 
 and give the mind a satisfaction superior to the disgust 
 arising from the blemishes. Ariosto pleases ; but not by 
 his monstrous and improbable fictions, by his bizarre mix- 
 ture of the serious and comic styles, by the want of cohe-
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 227 
 
 rence in his stories, or by the continue interruptions of 
 his narration. He charms by the force and clearness of 
 his expression, by the readiness and variety of his inven- 
 tions, and by his natural pictures of the passions, espe- 
 cially those of the gay and amorous kind : And however 
 his faults may diminish our satisfaction, they are not able 
 entirely to destroy it. Did our pleasure really arise from 
 those parts of his poem, which we denominate faults, this 
 would be no objection to criticism in general : It would on- 
 ly be an objection to those particular rules of criticism, 
 which would establish such circumstances to be faults, and 
 would represent them as universally blameable. It ihey 
 are found to please, they cannot be faults ; let the pleasure 
 which they produce be ever so unexpected and unaccount- 
 able. 
 
 But though all the general rules of art are founded only 
 on experience, and on the observation of the common sen- 
 timents of human nature, we must not imagine, that, on 
 every occasion, the feelings of men will be conformable to 
 these rules. Those finer emotions of the mind are of a 
 very tender and delicate nature, and require the concur- 
 rence of many favourable circumstances to make them 
 play with facility and exactness, according to their gene- 
 ral and established principles. The least exterior hin- 
 drance to such small springs, or the least internal disor- 
 der, disturbs their motion, and confounds the operation 
 of the whole machine. When we would make an expe- 
 riment of this nature, and would try the force of any beau- 
 ty or deformity, we must choose with care a proper time 
 and place, and bring the fancy to a suitable situation and 
 disposition. A perfect serenity of mind, a recollection of 
 thought, a due attention to the object; if any of these cir- 
 cumstances be wanting, our experiment will be fallacious,
 
 228 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 and we shall be unable to judge of the catholic and uni- 
 versal beauty. The relation, which nature has placed be- 
 tween the form and the sentiment, will at least be more 
 obscure ; and it will require greater accuracy to trace and 
 discern it. We shall be able to ascertain its influence, 
 not so much from the operation of each particular beau- 
 ty, as from the durable admiration, which attends those 
 works, that have survived all the caprices of mode and fa- 
 shion, all the mistakes of ignorance and envy. 
 
 The same Homer, who pleased at Athens and Rome 
 two thousand years ago, is still admired at Paris and at 
 London. All the changes of climate, government, reli- 
 gion, and language, have not been able to obscure his glo- 
 ry. Authority or prejudice may give a temporary vogue 
 to a bad poet or orator ; but his reputation will never be 
 du.able or general. When his compositions are exami- 
 ned by posterity or by foreigners, the enchantment is dissi- 
 pated, and his faults appear in their true colours. On the 
 contrary, a real genius, the longer his works endure, and 
 the more wide they are spread, the more sincere is the ad- 
 miration which he meets with. Envy and jealousy have 
 too much place in a narrow circle; and even familiar ac- 
 quaintance with his person may diminish the applause due 
 to his performances : But when these obstructions are re- 
 moved, the beauties, which are naturally fitted to excite 
 agreeable sentiments, immediately display their energy ; 
 while the world endures, they maintain their authority 
 over the minds of men. 
 
 It appears, then, that, amidst all the variety and caprice 
 of taste, there are certain g eneral princip les of approba- 
 tion or blame, whose influence a careful eye may trace in 
 all operations of the mind. Some particular forms or qua- 
 lities, from the original structure.of the internal fabric, are
 
 Or THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 229 
 
 calculated to please, and ethers to displease ; and if they 
 fail of their effect in any particular instance, it is from some 
 apparent defect or imperfection in the organ. A man in 
 a fever would not insist on his palate as able to decide con- 
 cerning flavours ; nor would one, affected with the jaun- 
 dice, pretend to give a verdict with regard to colours. In 
 each creature there is a sound and a defective state ; and 
 the former alone can be supposed to afford us a true stan- 
 dard of taste and sentiment. If, in the sound state of the 
 organ, there be an entire or a considerable uniformity of 
 sentiment among men, we may thence derive an idea of 
 the perfect beauty ; in like manner as the appearance of 
 objects in day-light, to the eye of a man in health, is de- 
 nominated their true and real colour, even while colour is 
 allowed to be merely a phantasm of the senses. 
 
 Many and frequent are the defects in the internal organs, 
 which prevent or weaken the influence of those general 
 principles, on which depends our sentiment of beauty or 
 deformity. Though some objects, by the structure of the 
 mind, be naturally calculated to give pleasure, it is not to 
 be expected, that in every individual the pleasure will be 
 equally felt. Particular incidents and situations occur, 
 which either throw a false light on the objects, or hinder 
 the true from conveying'to the imagination the proper sen- 
 timent and perception. 
 
 One obvious cause, why many feel not the proper sen- 
 timent of beauty, is the want of that delicacy of imagina- 
 tion which is requisite to convey a sensibility of those finer 
 emotions. This delicacy every one pretends to : Every 
 one talks of it ; and would reduce every kind of taste or 
 sentiment to its standard. But as our intention in this 
 essay is to mingle some light of the understanding with 
 the feelings of sentiment, it will be proper to give a more
 
 230 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 accurate definition of delicacy than has hitherto been at- 
 tempted. And not to draw our philosophy from too pro- 
 found a source, we shall have recourse to a noted story in 
 Dt;n Quixotte. 
 
 It is with good reason, says Sancho to the squire with 
 the great nose, that I pretend to have a judgment in wine ; 
 This is a quality hereditary in our family. Two of my 
 kinsmen were once called to give their opinion of a hogs- 
 head, which was supposed to be excellent, being old and 
 of a good vintage. One of them tastes it ; considers it ; 
 and, alter mature reflection, pronounces the wine to be 
 good, were it not for a small taste of leather, which he per- 
 ceived in it. The other, after using the same precautions, 
 gives also his verdict in favour of the wine ; but with the 
 reserve of a taste of iron, which he could easily distinguish. 
 You cannot imagine how much they were both ridiculed for 
 their judgment. But who laughed in the end? On emp- 
 tying the hogshead, there was found at the bottom an old 
 ke} with a leathern thong tied to it. 
 
 The great resemblance between mental and bodily taste 
 will easdy teach us to apply this story. Though it be cer- 
 tain, that beauty and deformity, more than sweet and bit- 
 ter, are not qualities in objects, but belong entirely to the 
 sentiment, internal or external ; it must be allowed, that 
 there are certain qualities in objects, which are fitted by 
 nature to produce those particular feelings. Now as these 
 qualities may be found in a small degree, or may be mixed 
 ami confounded with each other, it often happens that the 
 ta>tc is not affected with such minute qualities, or is not 
 able to distinguish all the particular flavours, amidst the 
 disorder in which they are presented. Where the organs 
 are so fine, as to allow nothing to escape them ; and at 
 the same tirue so exact, as to perceive every ingredient in
 
 Or THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 231 
 
 the composition : This we call delicacy of taste, whether 
 we employ these terms in the literal or metaphorical sense. 
 Here then the general rules of beauty are of use, being 
 drawn from established models, and from the observation 
 of what pleases or displeases, when presented singly and in 
 a high degree : And if the same qualities, in a continued 
 composition, and in a smaller degree, affect not the organs 
 with a sensible delight or uneasiness, we exclude the per- 
 son from all pretensions to this delicacy. To produce these 
 general rules or avowed patterns of composition, is like 
 finding the key with the leathern thong ; which justified 
 the verdict of Sancho's kinsmen, and confounded those 
 pretended judges who had condemned them. Though the 
 hogshead had never been emptied, the taste of the one was 
 still equally delicate, and that of the other equally dull and 
 languid : But it would have been more difficult to have 
 proved the superiority of the former, to the conviction of 
 every byestander. In like manner, though the beauties 
 of writing had never been methodized, or reduced to ge- 
 neral principles ; though no excellent models had ever 
 been acknowledged ; the different degrees of taste would 
 still have subsisted, and the judgment of one man been 
 preferable to that of another : but it would not have been 
 so easy to silence the bad critic, who might always insist 
 upon his particular sentiment, and refuse to submit to his 
 antagonist. But when we show him an avowed prnciple 
 of art ; when we illustrate this principle by examples, 
 whose operation, from his own particular taste, he acknow- 
 ledges to be conformable to the principle ; when we prove 
 that the same principle may be applied to the present case, 
 where he did not perceive or feel its influence : He must 
 conclude, upon the whole, that the fault lies in himself, 
 and that he wants the delicacy, which is requisite to make
 
 232 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 him sensible of every beauty and every blemish, in any 
 composition or discourse. 
 
 It is acknowledge d to be the perfection of every sense 
 or faculty, to perceive with exactness its most minute ob- 
 jects, and allow nothing to escape its notice and observa- 
 tion. The smaller the objects are, which become sensible 
 to the eye, the finer is that organ, and the more elaborate 
 its make and composition. A good palate is not tried by 
 strong flavours, but by a mixture of small ingredients, where 
 we are still sensible of each part, notwithstanding its mi- 
 nuteness and its confusion with the rest. In like manner, 
 a quick and acute perception of beauty and deformity 
 must he the perfection of our mental taste; nor can a man 
 be satisfied with himself while he suspects that any excel- 
 lence or blemish in a discourse has passed him unobserved. 
 In this case, the perfection of the man, and the perfection 
 of the sense of feeling, are found to be united. A very 
 delicate palate, on many occasions, may be a great incon- 
 venience both to a man himself and to his friends : But 
 a delicate taste of wit or beaut)' must always be a desir- 
 able quality, because it is the source of all the finest and 
 most innocent enjoyments of which human nature is sus- 
 ceptible. In this decision the sentiments of all mankind 
 are agreed Wherever you can ascertain a delicacy of 
 taste, it is sure to meet with approbation ; and the best 
 way of ascertaining it is to appeal to those models and 
 principles which have been established by the uniform eon- 
 sent and experience of nations and ages. 
 
 But though there be naturally a wide difference in point 
 of delicacy between one person and another, nothing tends 
 further to increase and improve this talent, than practice. 
 in a particular art and the frequent survey or contempla- 
 tion of a particular species of beauty. When objects of
 
 OP THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 23S 
 
 any kind arc first presented to the eye or imagination, the 
 sentiment which attends them is obscure and confused ; 
 and the mind is, in a great measure, incapable of pro- 
 nouncing concerning their merits or defects. The taste 
 cannot perceive the several excellences of the performance, 
 much less distinguish the particular character of each ex- 
 cellency, and ascertain its quality and degree. If it pro- 
 nounce the whole in general to be beautiful or deformed, 
 it is the utmost that can be expected ; and even this judg- 
 ment, a person so unpractised will be apt to deliver with 
 great hesitation and receive. But allow him to acquire 
 experience in those objects, his feeling becomes more ex- 
 act and nice : He not only perceives the beauties and de- 
 fects of each part, but marks the distinguishing species 
 of each quality, and assigns it suitable praise or blame. 
 A clear and distinct sentiment attends him through the 
 whole survey of the objects : and he discerns that very 
 degree and kind of approbation or displeasure which each 
 part is naturally fitted to produce. The mist dissipates 
 which seemed formerly to hang over the object : The or- 
 gan acquires greater perfection in its operations ; and can 
 pronounce, without danger or mistake, concerning the 
 merits of every performance. In a word, the same ad- 
 dress and dexterity, which practice gives to the execution 
 of any work, is also acquired by the same means, in the 
 iudffin^ of it. 
 
 So advantageous is practice to the discernment of beau- 
 ty, that, before we can give judgment on any work of im- 
 portance, it will even be requisite that that very individual 
 performance be more than once perused by us, and be sur- 
 veyed in different lights with attention and deliberation. 
 There is a flutter or hurry of thought which attends the 
 first perusal of any piece, and which confounds the genuin?
 
 234 ESSAY XXITI. 
 
 sentiment of beauty. The relation of the parts is not dis- 
 cerned : The true characters of style are little distinguish- 
 ed. The several perfections and defects seem wrapped up 
 in a species of confusion, and present themselves indistinct- 
 ly to the imagination. Not to mention, that there is a spe- 
 cies of beauty, which, as it is florid and superficial, pleases 
 at first ; but being found incompatible with a just expres- 
 sion either of reason or passion, soon palls upon the taste, 
 and is then rejected with disdain, at least rated at a much, 
 lower value. 
 
 It is impossible to continue in the practice of contem- 
 plating any order of beauty, without being frequently 
 obliged to form comparisons between the several species 
 and degrees of excellence^-antr' estimating their proportion 
 to each other. A man, who has had no opportunity of 
 comparing the different kinds of beauty, is indeed totally 
 unqualified to pronounce an opinion with regard to any 
 object presented to him. By comparison alone we fix the 
 epithets of praise or blame, and learn how to assign the 
 due degree of each. The coarsest daubing contains a cer- 
 tain lustre of colours and exactness of imitation, which are 
 so far beauties, and would affect the mind of a peasant or 
 Indian with the highest admiration. The most vulgar 
 ballads are not entirely destitute of harmony or nature ; 
 and none but a person familiarised to superior beauties 
 would pronounce their numbers harsh, or narration unin- 
 teresting. A great inferiority of beauty gives pain to a 
 person conversant in the highest excellence of the kind, 
 and is for that reason pronounced a deformity: As the 
 most finished object with which we are acquainted is na- 
 turally supposed to have reached the pinnacle of perfec- 
 tion, and to be entitled to the highest applause. One ac- 
 customed to see, and examine, and weigh the several per-
 
 OF THE STANDAKD OF TASTE. 235 
 
 formances, admired in different ages and nations, can alone 
 rate the merits of a work exhibited to his view, and assign 
 its proper rank among the productions of genius. 
 
 But to enable a critic the more fully to execute this un- 
 dertaking, he must preserve his mind free from all preju- 
 dice, and allow nothing to enter into his consideration, but 
 the very object which is submitted to his examination. We 
 may observe, that every work of art, in order to produce 
 its due effect on the mind, must be surveyed in a certain 
 point of view, and cannot be fully relished by persons, 
 whose situation, real or imaginary, is not conformable to 
 that which is required by the performance. An orator ado- 
 dresses himself to a particular audience, and must have a 
 regard to their particular genius, interests, opinions, pas- 
 sions, and prejudices j otherwise he hopes in vain to go- 
 vern their resolutions, and inflame their affections. Should 
 they even have entertained some prepossessions against 
 him, however unreasonable, he must not overlook this dis- 
 advantage ; but, before he enters upon the subject, must 
 endeavour to conciliate their affection, and acquire their 
 good graces. A critic of a different age or nation, who 
 should peruse this discourse, must have all these circum- 
 stances in his eye, and must place himself in the same si^ 
 tuation as the audience, in order to form a true judgment 
 of the oration. In like manner, when any work is address- 
 ed to the public, though I should have a friendship or en- 
 mity with the author, I must depart from this situation ; 
 and considering myself as a man in general, forget, if pos- 
 sible, my individual being, and my peculiar circumstances. 
 A person influenced by prejudice, complies not with this 
 condition, but obstinately maintains his natural position 
 without placing himself in that point of view which the 
 performance supposes. If the work be addressed to per-*
 
 236 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 sons of a different age or nation, he makes no allowance 
 for their peculiar views and prejudices ; but, full of the 
 manners of his own age and country, rashly condemns 
 what seemed admirable in the eyes of those for whom a- 
 lone the discourse was calculated. If the work be exe- 
 cuted for the public, he never sufficiently enlarges his com- 
 prehension, or forgets his interest as a friend or enemy, as 
 a rival or commentator. By this means, his sentiments 
 are perverted ; nor have the same beauties and blemishes 
 the same influence upon him, as if he had imposed a pro- 
 per violence on his imagination, and had forgotten himself 
 for a moment, So far his taste evidently departs from the 
 true standard, and of consequence loses all credit and au- 
 thority. 
 
 It is well known, that in all questions submitted to the 
 understanding, prejudice is destructive of sound judgment, 
 and perverts all operations of the intellectual faculties : It 
 h no less contrary to good taste ; nor has it less influence 
 to corrupt our sentiment of beauty. It belongs to good 
 sense to check its influence in both cases ; and in this re- 
 spect, as well as in many others, reason, if not an essential 
 part of taste, is at least requisite to the operations of this 
 latter faculty. In all the nobler productions of genius, 
 there is a mutual relation and correspondence of parts ; 
 nor can either the beauties or blemishes be perceived by 
 him whose thought is not capacious enough to comprehend 
 all those parts, and compare them with each other, in or- 
 der to perceive the consistence and uniformity of the whole. 
 Every work of art has also a certain end or purpose for 
 which it is calculated ; and is to be deemed more or less 
 perfect, as it is more or less fitted to attain this end. The 
 oniect of eloquence is to persuade, of history to instruct, 
 of poetry to please, by means of the passions and the ima~
 
 OF THE STANDARD OT TASTE. 23? 
 
 gination. These ends we must carry constantly in our 
 view when we peruse any performance ; and we must be 
 able to judge how far the means employed are adapted to 
 their respective purposes. Besides, every kind of compo- 
 sition, even the most poetical, is nothing but a chain of 
 propositions and reasonings; not always, indeed, thejust- 
 est and most exact, but still plausible and specious, how- 
 ever disguised by the colouring of the imagination. The 
 persons introduced in tragedy and epic poetry must be 
 represented as reasoning, and thinking, and concluding* 
 and acting, suitably to their character and circumstances ; 
 and without judgment, as well as taste and invention, a 
 poet can never hope to succeed in so delicate an under- 
 taking. Not to mention, that the same excellence of fa- 
 culties which contributes to the improvement of reason, the 
 same clearness of conception, the same exactness of dis- 
 tinction, the same vivacity of apprehension, are essential 
 to the operations of true taste, and are its infallible conco- 
 mitants. It seldom or never happens, that a man of sense, 
 who has experience in any art, cannot judge of its beauty > 
 and it is no less rare to meet with a man who has a just 
 taste without a sound understanding. 
 
 Thus, though the principles of taste be universal, and 
 nearly, if not entirely, the same in all men ; yet few are 
 qualified to give judgment on any work of art, or establish 
 their own sentiment as the standard of beauty. The or- 
 gans of internal sensation are seldom so perfect as to allow 
 the general principles their full play, and produce a feeling 
 correspondent to those principles. They either labour un- 
 der some defect, or are vitiated by some disorder ; and by 
 that means, excite a sentiment, which may be pronounced 
 erroneous. When the critic lias no delicacy, he judges 
 without any distinction, and is only affected by the grosser
 
 238 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 and more palpable qualities of the object : The finer touches 
 pass unnoticed and disregarded. Where he is not aided 
 by practice, his verdict i> attended with confusion and he- 
 sitation. Where no comparison has been employed, the 
 most frivolous beauties, such as rather merit the name of 
 defects, are the object of his admiration. Where he lies 
 under the influence of prejudice, all his natural sentiments 
 are perverted. W^here good sense is wanting, he is not 
 qualified to discern the beauties of design and reasoning, 
 which are the highest and most excellent. Under some or 
 other of these imperfections, the generality of men labour; 
 and hence a true judge in the finer arts is observed, even 
 during the most polished ages, to be so rare a character r 
 Strong sense, united to delicate sentiment, improved by 
 practice, perfected by comparison, and cleared of all pre- 
 judice, can alone entitle critics to this valuable character ; 
 and the joint verdict of such, wherever they are to be found, 
 is the true standard of taste and beauty. 
 
 But where are such critics to be found ? By what marks 
 are they to be known ? How distinguish them from pre- 
 tenders ? These questions are embarrassing : and seem to 
 throw us back into the same uncertainty, from which, du- 
 ring the course of this essav, we have endeavoured to cx- 
 tricate ourselves. 
 
 But if we consider the matter aright, these are questions 
 of fact, not of sentiment. Whether any particular person 
 be endowed with good sense and a delicate imagination, 
 free from prejudice, may often be the subject of disj ute, 
 and be liable to great discussion and inquiry : But that such 
 a character is valuable and estimable, will be agreed on by 
 all mankind. Where these doubts occur, men can do no 
 more than in other disputable questions which are submit- 
 ted to the understanding : They must produce the best ar-
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 239 
 
 guments that their invention suggests to them ; they must 
 acknowledge a true and decisive standard to exist some- 
 where, to wit, real existence and matter of fact ; and they 
 must have indulgence to such as differ from them in their 
 appeals to this standard. It is sufficient for our present 
 purpose, if we have proved, that the taste of all individuals 
 is not upon an equal footing, and that some men in gene- 
 ral, however difficult to be particularly pitched upon, will 
 be acknowledged by universal sentiment to have a prefe- 
 rence above others. 
 
 But, in reality, the difficulty of finding, even in particu- 
 lars, the standard of taste, is not so great as it is represent- 
 ed. Though in speculation, we may readily avow a cer- 
 tain criterion in science, and deny it in sentiment, the mat- 
 ter is found in practice to be much more hard to ascertain 
 in the former case than in the latter. Theories of abstract 
 philosophy, systems of profound theology, have prevailed 
 during one age : in a successive period these have been 
 universally exploded : Their absurdity has been detected : 
 Other theories and systems have supplied their place, which 
 again gave place to their successors : And nothing has been 
 experienced more liable to the revolutions of chance and 
 fashion than these pretended decisions of science. The 
 case is not the same with the beauties of eloquence and 
 poetry. Just expressions of passion and nature are sure, 
 after a little time, to gain public applause, which they main- 
 tain for ever. Aristotle, and Plato, and Epicurus, and 
 Descartes, may successively yield to each other : But Te- 
 rence and Virgil maintain an universal, undisputed empire 
 over the minds of men. The abstract philosophy of Cicero 
 has lost its credit : The vehemence of his oratory is still the 
 object of our admiration. 
 
 Though men of delicate taste be rare, they are easily to
 
 210 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 be distinguished in society by the soundness of their un- 
 derstanding, and the superiority of their faculties above the 
 rest of mankind. The ascendant, which they acquire, gives 
 a prevalence to that lively approbation, with which they 
 receive any productions of genius, and renders it generally 
 predominant. Many men, when left to themselves, have 
 but a faint and dubious perception of beauty, who yet are 
 capable of relishing any fine stroke which is pointed out to 
 them. Every convert to the admiration of the real poet 
 or orator is the cause of some new conversion. And though 
 prejudices may prevail for a time, they never unite in ce- 
 lebrating any rival to the true genius, but yield at last to 
 the force of nature and just se ntiment. Thus, though a 
 civilized nation may easily be mistaken in the choice of 
 their admired philosopher, they never have been found 
 long to err, in their affection lor a favourite epic or tragic 
 authon 
 
 But notwithstanding all our endeavours to fix a standard 
 of taste, and reconcile the discordant apprehensions of men, 
 there still remain two sources of variation, which are not 
 sufficient indeed to confound all the boundaries of beauty 
 and deformity, but will often serve to produce a difference 
 in the degrees of our approbation or blame. The one is 
 the different humours of particular men ; the other, the 
 particular manners and opinions of our age and country. 
 
 [The general principles of taste are uniform in human na- 
 ture : Where men vary in their judgments, some defect or 
 perversion in the faculties may commonly be remarked ; 
 proceeding either from prejudice, from want of practice, or 
 want of delicacy : and there is just reason for approving 
 one taste, and condemning another. But where there is 
 such a diversity in the internal frame or external situation 
 as is entirely blameless on both sides, and leaves no room 
 
 i
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 241 
 
 to give orte the preference above the other ; in that case a 
 certain degree of diversity in judgment is unavoidable, and 
 we seek in vain for a standard, by which we can reconcile 
 the contrary sentiments. 
 
 A young man, whose passions are warm, will be more 
 sensibly touched with amorous and tender images, than a 
 man more advanced in years, who takes pleasure in wise* 
 philosophical reflections, concerning the conduct of life and 
 moderation of the passions. At twenty, Ovid may be the 
 favourite author ; Horace at forty ; and perhaps Tacitus 
 at fifty. Vainly would we, in such cases, endeavour to en- 
 ter into the sentiments of others, and divest ourselves of 
 those propensities which are natural to us. We choose 
 our favourite author as we do our friend, from a confor- 
 mity of humour and disposition. Mirth or passion, senti- 
 ment or reflection •, whichever of these most predominates 
 in our temper, it gives us a peculiar sympathy with the wri- 
 ter who resembles us. 
 
 One person is more pleased with the sublime ; another 
 with the tender ; a third with raillery. One has a strong 
 sensibility to blemishes, and is extremely studious of cor- 
 rectness : Another has a more lively feeling of beauties, 
 and pardons twenty absurdities and defects for one eleva- 
 ted or pathetic stroke. The ear of this man is entirely turn- 
 ed towards conciseness and enerjjv : that man is delighted 
 with a copious, rich, and harmonious expression. JSimpli- 
 city is affected by one ; ornament by another. Comedy, 
 tragedy, satire, odes, have each its partisans, who prefer 
 that particular species of writing to all others. It is plain- 
 ly an error in a critic, to confine his approbation to one 
 species or style of writing, and condemn all the rest. But 
 it is almost impossible not to feel a predilection for that 
 which suits our particular turn and disposition. Such pre- 
 
 VOL. 1. R
 
 242 essay xxni. 
 
 ferences arc innocent and unavoidable, and can never rea- 
 sonably be the object of dispute, because there is no stan- 
 dard by which they can be decided. 
 
 For a like reason, we are more pleased, in the course of 
 our reading, with pictures and characters that resemble 
 objects which are found in our own age or country, than 
 with those which describe a different set of customs. It is 
 not without some effort, that we reconcile ourselves to the 
 simplicity of ancient manners, and behold princesses carry- 
 ing water from the spring, and kings and heroes dressing 
 their own victuals. We may allow in general, that the 
 representation of such manners is no fault in the author, 
 nor deformity in the piece ; but we are not so sensibly 
 touched with them. For this reason, comedy is not easily 
 transferred from one age or nation to another. A French- 
 man or Englishman is not pleased with the Anilria of Te- 
 rence, or Clitia of Machiavel ; where the fine lady, upon 
 whom all the play turns, never once appears to the specta- 
 tors, but is always kept behind the scenes, suitably to the 
 reserved humour of the ancient Greeks and modern Italians. 
 A man of learning and reflection can make allowance for 
 these peculiarities of manners ; but a common audience car* 
 never divest themselves so far of their usual ideas and senti- 
 ments, as to relish pictures which nowise resemble them. 
 
 But here there occurs a reflection, which may, perhaps, 
 be useful in examining the celebrated controversy con- 
 cerning ancient and modern learning ; where we often find 
 the one side excusing any seeming absurdity in the ancients 
 from the manners of the age, and the other refusing to ad- 
 mit this excuse, or at least admitting it only as an apology 
 for the author, not for the performance. In my opinion, 
 the proper boundaries in this subject have seldom been 
 fixed between the contending parties. Where any innocent
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 243 
 
 peculiarities of manners are represented, such as those 
 above mentioned, they ought certainly to be admitted ; and 
 a man, who is shocked with them, gives an evident proof 
 of false delicacy and refinement. The poet's monument 
 more durable than brass, must fall to the ground like com- 
 mon brick or clay, were men to make no allowance for the 
 continual revolutions of manners and customs, and would 
 admit of nothing but what was suitable to the prevailing 
 fashion. Must we throw aside the pictures of our ances- 
 tors, because of their ruffs and fardingales ? But where the 
 ideas of morality and decency alter from one age to ano- 
 ther, and where vicious manners are described, without 
 being marked with the proper characters of blame and 
 disapprobation, this must be allowed to disfigure the poem, 
 and to be a real deformity. I cannot, nor is it proper I 
 should, enter into such sentiments ; and however I may 
 excuse the poet, on account of the manners of his age, I 
 never can relish the composition. The want of humanity 
 and of decency, so conspicuous in the characters drawn by 
 several of the ancient poets, even sometimes by Homer and 
 the Greek tragedians, diminishes considerably the merit of 
 their noble performances, and gives modern authors an 
 advantage over them. We are not interested in the 
 fortunes and sentiments of such rough heroes : We are 
 displeased to find the limits of vice and virtue so much con- 
 founded ; and whatever indulgence we may give to the 
 writer on account of his prejudices, we cannot prevail on 
 ourselves to enter into his sentiments, or bear an affection 
 to characters, which we plainly discover to be blameable. 
 The case is not the same with moral principles as with 
 speculative opinions of any kind. These are in continual 
 flux and revolution. The son embraces a different system 
 from the father. Nay, there scarcely is any man, who can
 
 244; ESSAY XXI J I. 
 
 boast of great constancy and uniformity in this particular* 
 Whatever speculative errors may be found in the polite 
 writings of any age or country, they detract but little from 
 the value of those compositions. There needs but a certain 
 turn of thought or imagination to make us enter into all 
 the opinions which then prevailed, and relish the senti- 
 ments or conclusions derived from them. But a very violent 
 effort is requisite to change our judgment of manners, and 
 excite sentiments of approbation or blame, love or hatred, 
 different from those to which the mind, from long custom, 
 has been familiarized. And where a man is confident of 
 the rectitude of that moral standard by which he judges, 
 he is justly jealous of it, and will not pervert the sentiments 
 of his heart for a moment, in complaisance to any writer 
 whatsoever. 
 
 Of all speculative errors, those which regard religion are 
 the most excusable in compositions of genius ; nor is it ever 
 permitted to judge of the civility or wisdom of any people, 
 or even of single persons, by the grossness or refinement 
 of their theological principles. The same good sense, that 
 directs men in the ordinary occurrences of life, is not 
 hearkened to in religious matters, which are supposed to 
 be placed altogether above the cognisance of human reason. 
 On this account, all the absurdities of the pagan system of 
 theology must be overlooked by every critic, who would 
 pretend to form a just notion of ancient poetry ; and our 
 posterity, in their turn, must have the same indulgence to 
 their forefathers. No religious principles can ever be 
 imputed as a fault to any poet, while they remain merely 
 principles, and take not such strong possession of his heart 
 as to lay him under the imputation of bigotry or superstition. 
 Where that happens, they confound the sentiments of mo- 
 rality, and alter the_natural boundaries of vice and vir-
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 24-5 
 
 tuc. They are therefore eternal blemishes, according to 
 the principle above mentioned j nor are the prejudices and 
 false opinions of the age sufficient to justify them. 
 
 It is essential to the Roman Catholic religion to inspire 
 a violent hatred of every other worship, and to represent 
 all pagans, mahometans, and heretics, as the objects of 
 divine wrath and vengeance. Such sentiments, though 
 they are in reality very blameable, are considered as virtues 
 by the zealots of that communion, and are represented in 
 their tragedies and epic poems as a kind of divine heroism. 
 This bigotry has disfigured two very fine tragedies of the 
 French theatre, Polieucte and Athalia ; where an in- 
 temperate zeal for particular modes of worship is set off 
 with all the pomp imaginable, and forms the predominant 
 character of the heroes. " What is this," says the sublime 
 Joad to Josabet, finding her in discourse with Mathan 
 the priest of Baal, " Does the daughter of David speak 
 to this traitor? Are you not afraid, lest the earth should 
 open and pour forth flames to devour you both ? Or lest 
 these holy walls should fall and crush you together ? What 
 is his purpose ? Why comes that enemy of God hither to 
 poison the air, which we breathe, with his horrid pre- 
 sence f" Such sentiments are received with great applause 
 on the theatre of Paris ; but at London the spectators 
 would be full as much pleased to hear Achilles tell Aga- 
 memnon, that he was a dog in his forehead, and a deer in 
 his heart ; or Jupiter threaten Juno with a sound drub- 
 bing, if she will not be quiet. 
 
 Religious principles are also a blemish in any polite com- 
 position, when they rise up to superstition, and intrude 
 themselves into every sentiment, however remote from any 
 connection with religion. It is no excuse for the poet, that 
 the customs of his country had burdened life with so many
 
 216 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 religious ceremonies and observances, that no part of it was 
 exempt from that yoke. It must for ever be ridiculous in 
 Petrarch to compare his mistress, Lauua, to Jesus Christ. 
 Nor is it less ridiculous in that agreeable libertine, Boccace, 
 very seriously to give thanks to God Almighty and the 
 ladies, for their assistance in defending him against his 
 enemies.
 
 ESSAYS, 
 
 MORAL, POLITICAL, AND LITERARY 
 
 PART II a. 
 
 a Published in \~52,
 
 ESSAY L 
 
 OF COMMERCE. 
 
 I HE greater part of mankind may be divided into two 
 classes ; that of shallow thinkers, who fall short of the truth ; 
 and that of abstruse thinkers, who go beyond it. The lat- 
 ter class are by far the most rare ; and, I may add, by far 
 the most useful and valuable. They suggest hints, at least, 
 and start difficulties, which they want, perhaps, skill to 
 pursue ; but which may produce fine discoveries, when 
 handled by men who have a more just way of thinking. 
 At worst, what they say is uncommon ; and if it should 
 cost some pains to comprehend it, one has, however, the 
 pleasure of hearing something that is new. An author is 
 little to be valued who tells us nothing but what we can 
 learn from every coffee-house conversation. 
 
 All people of shallow thought are apt to decry even 
 those of solid understanding, as abstruse thinkers, and me- 
 taphysicians, and refiners ; and never will allow any thing 
 to be just which is beyond their own weak conceptions. 
 There are some cases, I own, where an extraordinary re- 
 finement affords a strong presumption of falsehood, and 
 where no reasoning is to be trusted but what is natural 
 and easy. When a man deliberates concerning his con- 
 duct in any particular affair, and forms schemes in politics, 
 trade, economy, or any business in life, lie never ought to
 
 250 ESSAY I. 
 
 draw his arguments too fine, or connect too long a chain 
 of consequences together. Something is sure to happen, 
 that will disconcert his reasoning, and produce an event 
 different from what he expected. But when we reason 
 upon general subjects, one may justly affirm, that our spe- 
 culations can scarcely ever be too line, provided they be 
 just ; and that the difference between a common man and 
 a man of genius is chiefly seen in the shallowness or depth 
 of the principles upon which they proceed. General rea- 
 sonings seem intricate, merely because they are general ; 
 nor is it easy for the bulk of mankind to distinguish, in a 
 great number of particulars, that common circumstance in 
 which they all agree, or to extract it, pure and unmixed, 
 from the other superfluous circumstances. Every judg- 
 ment or conclusion, with them, is particular. They can- 
 not enlarge their view to those universal propositions, 
 which comprehend under them an infinite number of in- 
 dividuals, and include a whole science in a single theorem. 
 Their eye is confounded with such an extensive prospect ; 
 and the conclusions derived from it, even though clearly 
 expressed, seem intricate and obscure. But however in- 
 tricate they may seem, it is certain, that general principles, 
 if just and sound, must always prevail in the general course 
 of things, though they may fail in particular cases ; and 
 it is the chief business of philosophers to regard the gene- 
 ral course of things. I may add, that it is also the chief 
 business of politicians ; especially in the domestic govern- 
 ment of the state, where the public good, which is, or 
 ought to be their object, depends on the concurrence of a 
 multitude of causes ; not as in foreign politics, on acci- 
 dents and chances, and the caprices of a few persons. This 
 therefore makes the difference between particular delibe- 
 rations and general reasonings, and renders subtiity and
 
 OF COMMERCE. 251 
 
 refinement much more suitable to the latter than to the 
 former. 
 
 I thought this introduction necessary before the follow- 
 ing diseourses on commerce, money, interest, balance of trade, 
 Sfc. where, perhaps, there will occur some principles which 
 are uncommon, and which may seem too refined and sub- 
 tle for such vulgar subjects. If false, let them be rejected : 
 But no one ought to entertain a prejudice against them, 
 merely because they are out of the common road. 
 
 The greatness of a state, and the happiness of its sub- 
 jects, how independent soever they may be supposed in 
 some respects, are commonly allowed to be inseparable 
 with regard to commerce ; and as private men receive 
 greater security, in the possession of their trade and riches, 
 from the power of the public, so the public becomes power- 
 ful in proportion to the opulence and extensive commerce 
 of private men. This maxim is true in general; though 
 I cannot forbear thinking that it may possibly admit of 
 exceptions, and that we often establish it with too little re- 
 serve and limitation. There may be some circumstances, 
 where the commerce, and riches, and luxury of individuals, 
 instead of adding strength to the public, will serve only to 
 thin its armies, and diminish its authority among the 
 neighbouring nations. Man is a very variable being, and 
 susceptible of many different opinions, principles, and rules 
 of conduct. What may be true, while he adheres to one 
 way of thinking, will be found false, when he has embraced 
 an opposite set of manners and opinions. 
 
 The bulk of every state may be. divided into husband- 
 men and manufacturers. The former are employed in the 
 culture of the land ; the latter works up the materials fur- 
 nished by the former, into all the commodities which are 
 necessary or ornamental to human life. As soon as men
 
 ESSAY i. 
 
 quit their savage state, where they live chiefly by hunting 
 and fishing, they must fall into these two classes ; though 
 the arts of agriculture employ at Jirst the most numerous 
 part of the society a . Time and experience improve so 
 much these arts, that the land may easily maintain a much 
 greater number of men than those who are immediately 
 employed in its culture, or who furnish the more necessary 
 manufactures to such as are so employed. 
 
 If these superfluous hands apply themselves to the finer 
 arts, which are commonly denominated the arts o{ luxury, 
 they add to the happiness of the state; since they afford 
 to many the opportunity of receiving enjoyments, with 
 which they would otherwise have been unacquainted. But 
 may not another scheme be proposed for the employment 
 of these superfluous hands? May not the sovereign lay 
 claim to them, and employ them in fleets and armies, to 
 increase the dominions of the state abroad, and spread its 
 fame over distant nations ? It is certain, that the fewer de- 
 sires and wants are found in the proprietors and labourers 
 of land, the fewer hands do they employ ; and consequent- 
 ly, the superfluities of the land, instead of maintaining 
 tradesmen and manufacturers, may support fleets and ar- 
 mies to a much greater extent, than where a great many 
 arts arc required to minister to the luxury of particular 
 persons. Here therefore seems to be a kind of opposition 
 between the greatness of the state and the happiness of the 
 
 1 Mods. Melon, in his political essay on commerce, asserts, that even at 
 present, if you divide France into twenty parts, sixteen are labourers or pea- 
 - mts ; two only artisans; one belonging to the law, church, and military; 
 and one merchants, financiers, and bourgeois. This calculation i*, certainly 
 very erroneous. In France, England, and indeed most parts of Europe, 
 half of the inhabitants live in cities ; and even of those who live in thff 
 (Knintrv, a great number are artisans, perhaps above a third.
 
 OF COMMERCE. 253 
 
 subject. A state is never greater than when all its super- 
 fluous hands are employed in the service of the public. 
 The ea»e and convenience of private persons require, that 
 these hands should be employed in their service. The one 
 can never be satisfied but at the expence of the other. As 
 the ambition of the sovereign must entrench on the luxury 
 of individuals, .<o the luxury of individuals mu-t diminish 
 the force, and check the ambition of the sovereign. 
 
 Nor is this reasoning merely chimerical ; but is found- 
 ed on history and experience. The republic of Sparta 
 was certainly more powerful than any state now in the 
 world, consisting of an equal number of people ; and this 
 was owing entirely to the want of commerce and luxury. 
 The Helotes were the labourers : the Spartans were the 
 soldiers or gentlemen. It is evident, that the labour of 
 the Helotes could not have maintained so great a number 
 of Spartans, had these latter lived in ease and delicacy, 
 and given employment to a great variety of trades and ma- 
 nufactures. The like policy may be remarked in Rome. 
 And, indeed, throughout all ancient history, it is observa- 
 ble, that the smallest republics raised and maintained great- 
 er armies, than states, consisting of triple the number of 
 inhabitants, are able to support at present. It is com- 
 puted, that in all European nations, the proportion be- 
 tween soldiers and people does not exceed one to a hun- 
 dred. But we read, that the city of Rome alone, with its 
 small territory, raised and maintained, in early times, ten 
 legions against the Latins. Athens, the whole of whose: 
 dominions was not larger than Yorkshire, sent to the ex- 
 pedition against Sicily near forty thousand men*. Dio- 
 nysius the elder, it is said, maintained a standing army of 
 
 * TurcTDiDKs, lib. vii,
 
 254 ESSAY I. 
 
 a hundred thousand foot, and ten thousand horse, besides 
 a large fleet of four hundred sail a ; though his territories 
 extended no farther than the city of Syracuse, about a 
 third of the island of Sicily, and some sea-port towns and 
 garrisons on the coast of Italy and Illyricum. It is true, 
 the ancient armies, in time of war, subsisted much upon 
 plunder : But did not the enemy plunder in their turn ? 
 which was a more ruinous way of levying a tax, than any 
 other that could be devised. In short, no probable rea- 
 son can be assigned for the great power of the more an- 
 cient states above the modern, but their want of commerce 
 and luxury. Few artisans were maintained by the labour 
 of the farmers, and therefore more soldiers might live up- 
 on it. Livy says, that Rome, in his time, would find it 
 difficult to raise as large an army as that which, in her 
 early days, she sent out against the Gauls and Latins b. 
 Instead of those soldiers who fought for liberty and em- 
 pire in Camillus's time, there were, in Augustus's days, 
 musicians, painters, cooks, players, and tailors ; and if 
 the land was equally cultivated at both periods, it could cer- 
 tainly maintain equal numbers in the one profession as 
 in the other. They added nothing to the mere necessa- 
 ries of life, in the latter period more than in the former. 
 
 It is natural on this occasion to ask, whether sovereigns 
 may not return to the maxims of ancient policy, and con- 
 sult their own interest in this respect, more than the hap- 
 piness of their subjects ? I answer, that it appears to me 
 almost impossible j and that because ancient policy was 
 
 a Dion. Sic. lib. vii. This account, I own, is somewhat suspicious, not 
 to say worse ; chiefly because tliis army was not composed of citizens, but 
 of mercenary forces. 
 
 b Tin Livn, lib. vii. cap. 24. " Adco in quw laboramus," says he, " sola 
 " crevimus, divitias luxuriamque."
 
 OV COMMERCE. 255 
 
 violent, and contrary to the more natural and usual course 
 of things. It is well known with what peculiar laws Sparta 
 was governed, and what a prodigy that republic is justly 
 esteemed by every one, who has considered human nature, 
 as it has displayed itself in other nations, and other ages. 
 Were the testimony of history less positive and circum- 
 stantial, such a government would appear a mere philoso- 
 phical whim or fiction, and impossible ever to be reduced 
 to practice. And though the Roman and other ancient 
 republics were supported on principles somewhat more na- 
 tural, yet was there an extraordinary concurrence of cir- 
 cumstances, to make them submit to such grievous bur- 
 dens. They were free states ; they were small ones ; and 
 the ane being martial, all their neighbours were eontinu- 
 ally in arms. Freedom naturally begets public spirit, espe- 
 cially in small stales; and this public spirit, this amor j)a- 
 trice, must increase, when the public is almost in continual 
 alarm, and men are obliged, every moment, to expose 
 themselves to the greatest dangers for its defence. A con- 
 tinual succession of wars makes every citizen a soldier : 
 He takes the field in his turn : And during his service he 
 is chiefly maintained by himself. This service is indeed 
 equivalent to a heavy tax ; yet is it less felt by a people 
 addicted to arms, who fight for honour and revenge more 
 than pay, and are unacquainted with gain and industry, 
 as welt as pleasure a . Not to mention the great equality 
 of fortunes among the inhabitants of the ancient republics, 
 where every field, belonging to a different proprietor, was 
 able to maintain a family, and rendered the numbers of ci- 
 tizens very considerable, even without trade aud manufac- 
 tures. 
 
 * See Note [(XI
 
 256 ESSAY I, 
 
 But though the want of trade and manufactures, anion c 
 a free and very martial people, may sometimes have no 
 other effect than to render the public more powerful, it is 
 certain, that, in the common course of human affairs, it 
 will have a quite contrary tendency. Sovereigns must take 
 mankind as they find them, and cannot pretend to intro- 
 duce any violent change in their principles and ways of 
 thinking. A long course of time, with a variety of acci- 
 dents and circumstances, are requisite to produce those 
 great revolutions, which so much diversify the face of hu- 
 man affairs. And the less natural any set of principles 
 are, which support a particular society, the more difficulty 
 will a legislator meet with in raising and cultivating them. 
 It is his best policy to comply with the common bent of 
 mankind, and give it all the improvements of which it is 
 susceptible. Now, according to the most natural course 
 of things, industry, and arts, and trade, increase the power 
 of the sovereign, as well as the happiness of the subjects ; 
 and that policy is violent which aggrandizes the public by 
 the poverty of individuals. This will easily appear from a 
 few considerations, which will present to us the consequen- 
 ces of sloth and barbarity. 
 
 Where manufactures and mechanic arts are not culti- 
 vated, the bulk of the people must apply themselves to 
 agriculture; and if their skill and industry increase, there 
 must arise a great superfluity from their labour, beyond 
 what suffices to maintain them. They have no tempta- 
 tion, therefore, to increase their skill and industry; since 
 they cannot exchange that superfluity for any commodi- 
 ties which may serve either to their pleasure;or vanity. 
 A habit of indolence naturally prevails. The greater part 
 of the land lies uncultivated. What is cultivated, yields 
 not its utmost, for want of skill and assiduity in the farm-
 
 Of COMMERCE. 257 
 
 ers. If at any time the public exigencies require that 
 great numbers should be employed in the public service, 
 the labour of the people furnishes now no superfluities by 
 which these numbers can be maintained. The labourers 
 cannot increase their skill and industry on a sudden. 
 Lands uncultivated cannot be brought into tillage for some 
 years. The armies, meanwhile, must either make sudden 
 and violent conquests, or disband for want of subsistence. 
 A regular attack or defence, therefore, is not to be expect- 
 ed from such a people, and their soldiers must be as igno- 
 rant and unskilful as their farmers and manufacturers. 
 
 Every thing in the world is purchased by labour; and 
 our passions are the only causes of labour. When a na- 
 tion abounds in manufactures and mechanic arts, the pro- 
 prietors of land, as well as the farmers, study agriculture 
 as a science, and redouble their industry and attention. 
 The superfluity, which arises from their labour, is not lost; 
 but is exchanged with manufactures for those commodities 
 which men's luxury now makes them covet. By this 
 means, land furnishes a great deal more of the necessaries 
 of life than what suffices for those who cultivate it. In 
 times of peace and tranquillity, this superfluity goes to the 
 maintenance of manufacturers and the improvers of liberal 
 arts. But it is easy for the public to convert many of these 
 manufacturers into soldiers, and maintain them by that su- 
 perfluity which arises from the labour of the farmers. Ac- 
 cordingly we find, that this is the case in all civilized go- 
 vernments. When the sovereign raises an army, what is 
 the consequence ? He imposes a tax. This tax obliges all 
 the people to retrench what is least necessary to their sub- 
 sistence. Those who labour in such commodities must 
 either enlist in the troops, or turn themselves to agricul- 
 ture, and thereby oblige some labourers to enlist for want. 
 
 vol. I. s
 
 258 ESSAY I. 
 
 of business. And to consider the matter abstractly, ma- 
 nufactures increase ihe power of the state only as they store 
 up so much labour, and that of a kind to which the pub- 
 lic may lay claim, without depriving any one oi the neces- 
 saries of life The more labour, therefore, that is employed 
 beyond inert necessaries, the more powerful is any state ; 
 sinc^ the persons engaged in that labour may easily be con- 
 verted to the public service. In a state without manufac- 
 tures, there may be the same number of hands ; but there 
 is not ihe sa e quantity of labour, nor of the same kind. 
 All the labour is there bestowed upon necessaries, which 
 can admit of little or no abatement. 
 
 Thus the greatness of the sovereign, and the happiness 
 of the state, are in a great measure united with regard to 
 trade and manufactures. It is a violent method, and in 
 most cases impracticable, to oblige the labourer to toil, in 
 order to raise from the land more than what subsists him- 
 self and family. Furnish him with manufactures and com- 
 modities, and he will do it of himself ; afterwards you will 
 find it easy to seize some part of his superfluous labour, 
 and employ it in the public service, without giving him his 
 wonted return. Being accustomed to industry, he will 
 think this less grievous, than if at once you obliged him to 
 an augmentation of labour without any reward. The case 
 is the same with regard to the other members of the state. 
 The greater is the stock of labour of all kinds, the greater 
 quantity may be taken from the heap, without making any 
 sensible alteration in it. 
 
 A public granary of corn., a storehouse of cloth, a ma- 
 gazine of arms j all these must be allowed real riches and 
 strength in any state. Trade and industry are really no- 
 thing but a stock of labour, which, in times of peace and 
 tranquillity, is employed for the ease and satisfaction of
 
 OF COMMERCE. 259 
 
 individuals, but in the exigencies of state, may in part be 
 turned to public advantage. Could we convert a city in- 
 to a kind of fortified camp, and infuse into each breast so 
 martial a genius, and such a passion for public good, as 
 to make every one willing to undergo the greatest hard- 
 ships for the sake of the public, these affections might 
 now, as in ancient times, prove alone a sufficient spur to 
 industry, and support the community. It would then be 
 advantageous, as in camps, to banish all arts and luxury ; 
 and, by restrictions on equipage and tables, make the pro- 
 visions and forage last longer than if the army were load- 
 ed with a number of superfluous retainers. But as these 
 principles are too disinterested, and too difficult to sup- 
 port, it is requisite to govern men by other passions, and 
 animate them with a spirit of avarice and industry, art 
 and luxury. The camp is, in this case, loaded with a su- 
 perfluous retinue, but the provisions flow in proportion- 
 ably larger. The harmony of the whole is still supported, 
 and the natural bent of the mind, being more complied 
 with, individuals, as well as the public, find their account 
 in the observance of those maxims. 
 
 The same method of reasoning will let us see the ad- 
 vantage of foreign commerce in augmenting the power of 
 the state, as well as the riches and happiness of the sub- 
 ject. It increases the stock of labour in the nation ; and 
 the sovereign may convert what share of it he finds ne- 
 cessary to the service of the public. Foreign trade, by its 
 imports, furnishes materials for new manufactures ; and, 
 by its exports, it produces labour in particular commodi- 
 ties, which could not be consumed at home. In short, a 
 kingdom that has a large import and export, must abound 
 more with industry, and that employed upon delicacies 
 and luxuries, than a kingdom which rests contented with
 
 260 ESSAY I. 
 
 its native commodities. It is therefore more powerful, as 
 well as richer and happier. The individuals reap the be- 
 nefit of these commodities, so far as they gratify the senses 
 and appetites ; and the public is fdso a gainer, while a 
 greater stock of labour is, by this means, stored up against 
 any public exigency : that is, a greater number of labo- 
 rious men arc maintained, who may be diverted to the 
 public service, without robbing any one of the necessaries^ 
 or even the chief conveniences of life. 
 
 If we consult history, we shall find, that in most nations 
 foreign trade has preceded any refinement in heme manu- 
 factures, and given birth to domestic luxury. The temp- 
 tation is stronger to make use of foreign commodities 
 which are ready for use, and which are entirely new to 
 us, than to make improvements on any domestic commo- 
 dity, which always advance by slow degrees, and never 
 affect us by their novelty. The profit is also very great 
 in exporting what is superfluous at home, and what bears 
 no price, to foreign nations, whose soil or climate is not 
 favourable to that commodity. Thus men become ac- 
 quainted with the pleasures of luxury, and the profits of 
 commerce ; and their delicacy and industry, being once 
 awakened, carry them on to farther improvements in every 
 branch of domestic as well as foreign trade ; and this per- 
 haps is the chief advantage which arises from a commerce 
 with strangers. It rouses men from their indoler.ee; and 
 presenting the gayer and more opulent part of the nation 
 with objects of luxury which they never before dreamed 
 of, rai>es in them a desire of a mote splendid way of life 
 than what their ancestors enjoyed. And, at the same 
 time, the i'cw merchants who possess the secret of this im- 
 portation and exportation, make great profits, and be- 
 coming rivals in wealth to the ancient nobility, tempt
 
 OF COMMERCE. 261 
 
 other adventurers to become their rivals in commerce. 
 Imitation soon diffuses all those arts, while domestic ma- 
 nufacturers emulate the foreign in their improvements, and 
 work up every home commodity to the utmost perfection 
 of which it is susceptible. Their own steel and iron, in 
 such laborious hands, become equal to the gold and rubies 
 of the Indies. 
 
 When the affairs of the society are once brought to this 
 situation, a nation may lo.se most of its foreign trade, and 
 yet continue a great and powerful people. If strangers 
 will not take any particular commodity of ours, we must 
 cease to labour in it. The same hands will turn them- 
 selves towards some refinement in other commodities which 
 may be wanted at home; and there must always be ma- 
 terials for them to work upon, till every person in the 
 state, who possesses riches, enjoys as great plenty of home 
 commodities, and those in as great perfection as he de- 
 sires ; which can never possibly happen. China is repre- 
 sented as one of the most flourishing empires in the world, 
 though it has very little commerce bevond its own terri- 
 tories. 
 
 It will not, I hope, be considered as a superfluous di- 
 gression, if I here observe, that as the multitude of me- 
 chanical arts is advantageous, so is the great number of 
 persons to whose share the productions of these arts fall. 
 A too great disproportion among the citizens weakens 
 any state. Every person, if possible, ought to enjoy the 
 fruits of his labour, in a full possession of all the neces- 
 saries, and many of the conveniences of life. No one can 
 doubt but such an equality is most suitable to human na- 
 ture, and diminishes much less from the happiness of the 
 rich, than it adds to that of the poor. It also augments 
 the poller of the state, and makes any extraordinary taxes
 
 262 ESSAY I. 
 
 or impositions be paid with more cheerfulness. Where 
 the riches are engrossed by a few, these must contribute 
 very largely to the supplying of the public necessities ; but 
 when the riches are dispersed among multitudes, the bur- 
 den feels light on every shoulder, and the taxes make not 
 a very sensible difference on any one's way of living. 
 
 Add to this, that where the riches are in few hands, 
 these must enjoy all the power, and will readily conspire 
 to lay the whole burden on the poor, and oppress them 
 still farther, to the discouragement of all industry. 
 
 In this circumstance consists the great advantage of 
 England above any nation at present in the world, or that 
 appears in the records of any story. It is true, the Eng- 
 lish feel some disadvantages in foreign trade by the high 
 price of labour, which is in part the effect of the riches of 
 their artisans, as well as of the plenty of money. But as 
 foreign trade is not the most material circumstance, it is 
 not to be put in competition with the happiness of so 
 many millions ; and if there were no more to endear to 
 them that free government under which they live, this 
 alone were sufficient. The poverty of the common peo- 
 ple is a natural, if not an infallible effect of absolute mo- 
 narchy ; though I doubt, whether it be always true on the 
 other hand, that their riches are an infallible result of li- 
 berty. Liberty must be attended with particular acci- 
 dents, and a certain turn of thinking, in order to produce 
 that effect. Lord Bacon, accounting for the great advan- 
 tages obtained by the English in their wars with France, 
 ascribes them chiefly to the superior ease and plenty of the 
 common people amongst the former ; yet the government 
 of the two kingdoms was, at that time, pretty much alike. 
 Where the labourers and artisans are accustomed to work 
 for low wages, and to retain but a small part of the fruits
 
 OF COMMERCE. 2b'3 
 
 of their labour, it is difficult for them, even in a free go- 
 vernment, to betier their condition, or conspire among 
 themselves to heighten their wages ; but even where they 
 are accustomed to a more plentiful way of life, it is easy 
 for the rich, in an arbitrary government, to conspire 
 against them, and throw the whole burden of the taxes on 
 their shoulders. 
 
 It may seem an odd position, that the poverty of the 
 common people in France, Italy, and Spain, is, in some 
 measure, owing to the superior riches of the soil and hap- 
 piness of the climate ; yet there want not reasons to justify 
 this paradox. In such a fine mould or soil as that of those 
 more southern regions, agriculture is an easy art ; and one 
 man, with a couple of sorry horses, will be able, in a sea- 
 son, to cultivate as much land as will pay a pretty consi- 
 derable rent to the proprietor. All the art, which the far- 
 mer knows, is to leave his ground fallow for a year, as soon 
 as it is exhausted ; and the warmth of the sun alone and 
 temperature of the climate enrich it, and restore its ferti- 
 lity. Such poor peasants, therefore, require only a simple 
 maintenance for their labour. They have no stock or 
 riches which claim more ; and at the same time they are 
 for ever dependent on the landlord, who gives no leases, 
 nor fears that his land will be spoiled by the ill methods of 
 cultivation. In England, the land is rich, but coarse; 
 must be cultivated at a great expence ; and produces slen- 
 der crops, when not carefully managed, and by a method 
 which gives not the full profit but in a course of several 
 years. A farmer, therefore, in England must have a con- 
 siderable stock, and a long lease ; which beget proportion- 
 al profits. The vineyards of Champagne and Burgundy, 
 that often yield to the landlord above five pounds per acre, 
 are cultivated by peasants who have scarcely bread : The
 
 264 ESSAY I. 
 
 reason is, that peasants need no stock but their own limbs, 
 with instruments of husbandry, which they can buy for 
 twenty shillings. The farmers are commonly in some bet- 
 ter circumstances in those countries. But the graziers are 
 most at their ease of all those who cultivate the land. The 
 reason is still the same. Men must have profits propor- 
 tionable to their expence and hazard. Where so consider- 
 able a number of the labouring poor, as the peasants and 
 farmers, are in very low circumstances, ail the rest must 
 partake of their poverty, whether the government of that 
 nation be monarchical or republican. 
 
 We mav form a similar remark with regard to the ge~ 
 neral history of mankind. What is the reason, why no 
 people, living between the tropics, could ever yet attain to 
 any art or civility, or reach even any police in their go- 
 vernment, and any military discipline ; while few nations 
 in the temperate climates have been altogether deprived of 
 these advantages? It is probable that one cause of this 
 phenomenon is the warmth and equality of weather in the 
 torrid zone, which render clothes and houses less requisite 
 for the inhabitants, and thereby remove, in part, that ne- 
 cessity, which is the great spur to industry and invention. 
 Curis acuens mortalia corda. Not to mention, that the 
 fewer goods or possessions of this kind any people en- 
 joy, the fewer quarrels are likely to arise amongst them, 
 and the less necessity will there be for a settled police or 
 regular authority, to protect and defend them from foreign 
 enemies, or from each other.
 
 ESSAY II. 
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 
 
 JLuxury is a word of an uncertain signification, and may 
 be taken in a good as well as in a bad sense. In general, 
 it means great refinement in the gratification of the senses ; 
 and any degree of it may be innocent or blameable, ac- 
 cording to the age, or country, or condition of the person. 
 The bounds between the virtue and the vice cannot here 
 be exactly fixed, more than in other moral subjects. To 
 imagine, that the gratifying of any sense, or the indulging 
 of any delicacy in meat, drink, or apparel, is of itself a 
 vice, can never enter into a head, that is not disordered by 
 the frenzies of enthusiasm. I have, indeed, heard of a 
 monk abroad, who, because the windows of his cell open- 
 ed upon a noble prospect, made a covenant with his eyes 
 never to turn that way, or receive so sensual a gratifica- 
 tion. And such is the crime of drinking Champagne or 
 Burgundy, preferable to small beer or porter. These in- 
 dulgences are only vices, when they are pursued at the ex- 
 pence of some virtue, as liberality or charity ; in like man- 
 ner as they are follies, when for them a man ruins his for- 
 tune, and reduces himself to want and beggary. Where 
 they entrench upon no virtue, but leave ample subject 
 whence to provide for friends, family, and every proper 
 object of generosity or compassion, they are entirely inno-
 
 266 ESSAY II. 
 
 cent, and have in every age been acknowledged such by 
 almost all moralists. To be entirely occnpi, i with the luxu- 
 ry of the table, for instance, without any i elish for the plea- 
 sures of ambition, study, or conversation., is a mark of stu- 
 pidity, and is incompatible with any vigour of temper or 
 genius. To confine one's expence entirely to such a gra- 
 tification, without regard to friends or family, is an indi- 
 cation of a heart destitute of humanity or benevolence. 
 But if a man reserve time sufficient for all laudabie pur- 
 suits, and money sufficient for all generous purposes, he is 
 free from every shadow of blame or reproach, 
 
 Since luxury may be considered either as innocent or 
 blameable, one may be surprised at those preposterous opi- 
 nions which have been entertained concerning it ; while 
 men of libertine principles bestow praises even on vicious 
 luxury, and represent it as highly advantageous to society ; 
 and, on the other hand, men of severe morals blame even 
 the most innocent luxury, and represent it as the source 
 of all the corruptions, disorders, and factions incident to 
 civil government. We shall here endeavour to correct 
 both these extremes, by proving,/;^, that the ages of re- 
 finement are both the happiest and most virtuous ; second- 
 ly, that wherever luxury ceases to be innocent, it also ceases 
 to be beneficial ; and when carried a degree too far, is a 
 quality pernicious, though perhaps not the most pernicious, 
 to political society. 
 
 To prove the first point, we need but consider the ef- 
 fects of refinement both on private and on public life. Hu- 
 man happiness, according to the most received notions, 
 seems to consist in three ingredients •, action, pleasure, and 
 indolence : And though these ingredients ought to be 
 mixed in different proportions, according to the particu- 
 lar disposition of the person j yet no one ingredient can be
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 267 
 
 entirely wanting, without destroying, in some measure, the 
 relish of the whole composition. Indolence or repose, in- 
 deed, seems not of itself to contribute much to our enjoy- 
 ment ; but, like sleep, is requisite as an indulgence, to the 
 weakness of human nature, which cannot support an un- 
 interrupted course of business or pleasure. That quick 
 march of the spirits, which takes a man from himself, and 
 chiefly gives satisfaction, does in the end exhaust the mind, 
 and requires some intervals of repose, which, though a- 
 greeable for a moment, yet, if prolonged, beget a languor 
 and lethargy, that destroy all enjoyment. Education, cus- 
 tom, and example, have a mighty influence in turning 
 the mind to any of these pursuits ; and it must be owned 
 that, where they promote a relish for action and pleasure, 
 they are so far favourable to human happiness. In times 
 when industry and the arts flourish, men are kept in per- 
 petual occupation, and enjoy, as their reward, the occupa- 
 tion itself, as well as those pleasures which are the fruit of 
 their labour. The mind acquires new vigour; enlarges its 
 powers and faculties ; and, by an assiduity in honest in- 
 dustry, both satisfies its natural appetites, and prevents the 
 growth of unnatural ones, which commonly spring up, 
 when nourished by ease and idleness. Banish those arts 
 from society, you deprive men both of action and of plea- 
 sure ; and leaving nothing but indolence in their place, 
 you even destroy the relish of indolence, which never is 
 agreeable, but when it succeeds to labour, and recruits the 
 spirits, exhausted by too much application and fatigue. 
 
 Another advantage of industry and of refinements in the 
 mechanical arts, is, that they commonly produce some re- 
 finements in the liberal ; nor can one be carried to per- 
 fection, without being accompanied, in some degree, with 
 the other. The same age which produces great philoso-
 
 26S ESSAY II. 
 
 pliers and politicians, renowned generals and poets, usual- 
 ly abounds with skilful weavers and ship-carpenters. We 
 cannot reasonably expect, that apiece of woollen cloth will 
 be brought to perfection in a nation which is ignorant of 
 astronomy, or where ethics are neglected. The spirit of 
 the age affects all the arts, and the minds of men being 
 once roused from their lethargy, and put into a fermenta- 
 tion, turn themselves on all sides, and carry improvements 
 into every art and science. Profound ignorance is totally 
 banished, and men enjoy the privilege of rational creatures, 
 to think as well as to act, to cultivate the pleasures of the 
 mind as well as those of the body. 
 
 The more these refined arts advance, the more sociable 
 men become: Nor is it possible, that when enriched with 
 science, and possessed of a fund of conversation, they 
 should be contented to remain in solitude, or live with 
 their fellow-citizens in that distant manner, which is pecu- 
 liar to ignorant and barbarous nations. They flock into 
 cities ; love to receive and communicate knowledge ; to 
 shew their wit or their breeding ; their taste in conversa- 
 tion or living, in clothes or furniture. Curiosity allures 
 the wise ; vanity the foolish ; and pleasure both. Parti- 
 cular clubs and societies are every where formed : Both 
 bexes meet in an easy and sociable manner ; and the tem- 
 pers of men, as well as their behaviour, refine apace. So 
 that, beside the improvements which they receive from 
 knowledge and the liberal arts, it is impossible but they 
 must feel an increase of humanity, from the very habit of 
 conversing together, and contributing to each other's plea- 
 sure and entertainment. Thus industry, knowledge, and 
 humanity, are linked together by an indissoluble chain, 
 and are found, from experience as well as reason, to be
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS, 269 
 
 peculiar to the more polished, and, what arc commonly 
 denominated, the more luxurious ages. 
 
 Nor are these advantages attended with disadvantages 
 that bear any proportion to them. The more men refine 
 upon pleasure, the less will they indulge in excesses of any 
 kind ; because nothing is more destructive to true pleasure 
 than such excesses. One may safely affirm, that the Tar- 
 tars are oftener guilty of beastly gluttony, when they feast 
 on their dead horses, than European courtiers with all their 
 refinements of cookery. And if libertine love, or even in- 
 fidelity to the marriage-bed, be more frequent in polite 
 ages, when it is often regarded only as a piece of gallantry ; 
 drunkenness, on the other hand, is much less common : 
 a vice more odious, and more pernicious, both to mind 
 and body. And in this matter I would appeal, not only 
 to an Ovid or a Petronius, but to a Seneca or a Cato. We 
 know, that Caesar, during Cataline's conspiracy, being ne- 
 cessitated to put into Cato's hands a billet-doux, which dis- 
 covered an intrigue with Servilia, Cato's own sister, that 
 stern philosopher threw it back to him with indignation ; 
 and, in the bitterness of his wrath, gave him the appella-- 
 tion of drunkard, as a term more opprobrious than that 
 with which he could more justly have reproached him. 
 
 But industry, knowledge, and humanity, are not advan- 
 tageous in private life alone ; they diffuse their beneficial in- 
 fluence on the public, and render the government as great 
 and flourishing as they make individuals happy and pro- 
 sperous. The increase and consumption of all the com- 
 modities, which serve to the ornament and pleasure of life, 
 are advantages to society ; because, at the same time that 
 they multiply those innocent gratifications to individuals, 
 they are a kind of storehouse of labour, which, in the exi- 
 gencies of state, may be turned to the public service. In
 
 270 ESSAY II. 
 
 a nation where there is no demand for such superfluities, 
 men sink into indolence, lose all enjoyment of life, and arc 
 useless to the public, which cannot maintain or support its 
 fleets and armies from the industry of such slothful members. 
 
 The bounds of all the European kingdoms are, at pre- 
 sent, nearly the same they were two hundred years ago : 
 But what a difference is there in the power and grandeur 
 of those kingdoms ? which can be ascribed to nothing but 
 the increase of art and industry. When Charles VIII. of 
 France invaded Italy, he carried with him about 20,000 
 men ; yet this armament so exhausted the nation, as we 
 learn from Guicciardin, that for some years it was not able 
 to make so great an effort. The late king of France, in 
 time of war, kept in pay above 400,000 men a ; though 
 from Mazarine's death to- his own, he was engaged in a 
 course of wars that lasted near thirty years. 
 
 This industry is much promoted by the knowledge in- 
 separable from ages of art and refinement ; as, on the other 
 hand, this knowledge enables the public to make the best 
 advantage of the industry of its subjects. Laws, order, 
 police, discipline ; these can never be carried to any de- 
 gree of perfection, before human reason has refined itself 
 by exercise, and by an application to the more vulgar arts, 
 at least, of commerce and manufacture. Can we expect 
 that a government will be well-modelled by a people, who 
 know not how to make a spinning-wheel, or to employ a 
 loom to advantage? Not to mention, that all ignorant 
 ages'are infested with superstition, which throws the govern- 
 ment off its bias, and disturbs men in the pursuit of their in- 
 terest and happiness. 
 
 Knowledge in the arts of government naturally begets 
 
 ' The inscription on the Place-de-Vendome says 440.000,
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 271 
 
 mildness and moderation, by instructing men in the ad- 
 vantages of humane maxims above rigour and severity, 
 which drive subjects into rebellion, and make the return 
 to submission impracticable, by cutting off all hopes of 
 pardon. When the tempers of men are softened as well 
 as their knowledge improved, this humanity appears still 
 more conspicuous, and is the chief characteristic which 
 distinguishes a civilized age from times of barbarity and 
 ignorance. Factions are then less inveterate, revolutions 
 less tragical, authority less severe, and seditions less fre- 
 quent. Even foreign wars abate of their cruelty ; and af- 
 ter the field of battle, where honour and interest steel men 
 against compassion, as well as fear, the combatants divest 
 themselves of the brute, and resume the man. 
 
 Nor need we fear, that men, by losing their ferocity, 
 will lose their martial spirit, or become less undaunted and 
 vigorous in defence of their country or their liberty. The 
 arts have no such effect in enervating either the mind or 
 body. On the contrary, industry, their inseparable at- 
 tendant, adds new force to both. And if anger, which is 
 said to be the whetstone of courage, loses somewhat of its 
 asperity, by politeness and refinement ; a sense of honour, 
 which is a stronger, more constant, and more governable 
 principle, acquires fresh vigour by that elevation of genius 
 which arises from knowledge and a good education. Add 
 to this, that courage can neither have any duration, nor 
 be of any use, when not accompanied with discipline and 
 martial skill, which are seldom found among a barbarous 
 people. The ancients remarked, that Datames was the 
 only barbarian that ever knew the art of war. And Pyr- 
 rhus, seeing the Romans marshal their army with some 
 art =.nd skill, said with surprise, These barbarians have no- 
 thing barbarous in their discipli?ie .' It is observable, that,
 
 272 essay n. 
 
 as the old Romans, by applying themselves solely to war, 
 were almost the only uncivilized people that ever possessed 
 military discipline ; so the modern Italians are the only ci- 
 vilized people, among Europeans, that ever wanted courage 
 and a martial spirit. Those who would ascribe this effe- 
 minacy of the Italians to their luxury, or politeness, or ap- 
 plication to the arts, need but consider the French and 
 English, whose bravery is as incontestable, as their love 
 for the arts, and their assiduity in commerce. The Ita- 
 lian historians give us a more satisfactory reason for this 
 degeneracy of their countrymen. They show us how the 
 sword was dropped at once by all the Italian sovereigns ; 
 while the Venetian aristocracy was jealous of its subjects, 
 the Florentine democracy applied itself entirely to com- 
 merce ; Rome was governed by priests, and Naples by wo- 
 men. War then became the business of soldiers of for- 
 tune, who spared one another, and, to the astonishment 
 of the world, could engage a whole day in what they call- 
 ed a battle, and return at night to their camp without the 
 least bloodshed. 
 
 What has chiefly induced severe moralists to declaim 
 against refinement in the arts, is the example of ancient 
 Rome, which, joining to its poverty and rusticity virtue 
 and public spirit, rose to such a surprising height of gran- 
 deur and liberty; but, having learned from its conquered 
 provinces the Asiatic luxury, fell into every kind ot cor- 
 ruption ; whence arose sedition and civil wars, attended at 
 last with the total loss of liberty. All the Latin classics, 
 whom we peruse in our infancy, are full oi these senti- 
 ments, and universally ascribe the ruin of their state to the 
 arts and riches imported from the East ; insomuch that 
 Sallust represents a taste for painting as a vice, no less 
 than lewdness and drinking. And so popular were these
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 273 
 
 sentiments, during the latter ages of the republic, that this 
 author abounds in praises of the old rigid Roman virtue, 
 though himself the most egregious instance of modern 
 luxury and corruption ; speaks contemptuously of the Gre- 
 cian eloquence, though the most elegant writer in the 
 world ; nay, employs preposterous digressions and decla- 
 mations to this purpose, though a model of taste and cor- 
 rectness. 
 
 But it would be easy to prove, that these writers mis- 
 took the cause of the disorders in the Roman state, and 
 ascribed to luxury and the arts, what really proceeded 
 from an ill-modelled government, and the unlimited extent 
 of conquests. Refinement on the pleasures and conve- 
 niences of life has no natural tendency to beget venality 
 and corruption. The value which all men put upon any 
 particular pleasure, depends on comparison and expe- 
 rience ; nor is a porter less greedy of money, which he 
 spends on bacon and brandy, than a courtier, who pur- 
 chases champaign and ortolans. Riches are valuable at 
 all limes, and to all men ; because they always purchase 
 pleasures, such as men are accustomed to and desire: Nor 
 can any thing restrain or regulate the love of money, but 
 a sense of honour and virtue ; which, if it be not nearly 
 equal at all times, will naturally abound most in ages of 
 knowledge and refinement. 
 
 Of all European kingdoms Poland seems the most de- 
 fective in the arts of war as well as peace, mechanical as 
 well as liberal ; yet it is there that venality and corruption 
 do most prevail. The nobles seem to have preserved their 
 crown elective for no other purpose, than regularly to sell 
 it to the highest bidder. This is almost the only species 
 of commerce with which that people are acquainted. 
 
 The liberties of England, so far from decaying since the 
 
 vol. r. T
 
 1274- ESSAY II. 
 
 improvements in the arts, have never flourished so much 
 as dining that period. And though corruption may seem 
 to increase of late years; this is chiefly to be ascribed to 
 our established liberty, when our princes have found the 
 impossibility of governing without parliaments, or of ter- 
 rifying parliaments by the phantom of prerogative. Not 
 to mention, that this corruption or venality prevails much 
 more among the electors than the elected ; and therefore 
 cannot justly be ascribed to any refinements in luxury. 
 
 If we consider the matter in a proper light, we shall h'n<?, 
 that a progress in the arts is rather favourable to liberty, 
 and has a natural tendency to preserve, if not produce a 
 Ace government. In rude unpolished nations, where the 
 arts are neglected, all labour is bestowed on the cultivation 
 of the ground ; and the whole society is divided into two 
 classes, proprietors of land, and their vassals or tenants. 
 The latter arc necessarily dependent, and fitted for slavery 
 and subjection ; especially where they possess no riches, 
 and are not valued for their knowledge in agriculture : as 
 must always be the case where the arts are neglected. The 
 former naturally erect themselves into petty tyrants ; and 
 must either submit to an absolute master, for the sake of 
 peace and order ; or if they will preserve their indepen- 
 dency, like the ancient barons, they must fall into feuds and 
 contests among themselves, and throw the wIilIs society 
 into such confusion, as is perhaps worse than the most 
 despotic government. But where luxury nourishes com- 
 merce and industry, the peasants, by a proper cultivation 
 of the land, become rich and independent : while the trades- 
 men and merchants acquire a share of the property, and 
 draw authority and consideration to that middling rank of 
 men, who are the best and firmest basis of public liberty. 
 These submit not to slavery, like the peasants, from po-
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 275 
 
 verty and meanness of spirit ; and having no hopes of ty- 
 rannizing over others, like the barons, they are not tempt- 
 ed, for the sake of that gratification, to submit to the ty- 
 ranny of their sovereign. They covet equal laws, which 
 may secure their property, and preserve them from mo- 
 narchical, as well as aristocratical tyranny. 
 
 The lower house is the support of our popular govern- 
 ment; and all the world acknowledges, that it owed its chief 
 influence and consideration to the increase of commerce, 
 which threw such a balance of property into the hands, of 
 the Commons. How inconsistent, then, is it to blame so 
 violently a refinement in the arts, and to represent it as 
 the bane of liberty and public spirit ! 
 
 To declaim against present times, and magnify the vir- 
 tue of remote ancestors, is a propensity almost inherent in 
 huma'i nature: And as the sentiments and opinions of ci- 
 vilized ages alone are transmitted to posterity, hence it is 
 that we meet with so many severe judgments pronounced 
 against luxury, and even science 5 and hence it is that at 
 present we give so ready an assent to them. But the falla- 
 cy is easily perceived, by comparing different nations that 
 are contemporaries ; where we both judge more impartial- 
 ly, and can better set in opposition those manners, with 
 which we are sufficiently acquainted. Treachery and cru- 
 elty, the most pernicious and most odious of all vices, seem 
 peculiar to uncivilized ages ; and, by the refined Greeks 
 and Romans, were ascribed to all the barbarous nations 
 which surrounded them. They might justly, therefore, 
 have presumed, that their own ancestors, so highly cele- 
 brated, possessed no greater virtue, and were as much in- 
 ferior to their posterity in honour and humanity, as in taste 
 and science. An ancient Frank or Saxon may be highly 
 extolled: But I believe every man would think his life or
 
 276 ESSAY II. 
 
 fortune much less secure in the hands of a Moor or Tar- 
 tar, than those of a French or English gentleman, the rank 
 of men the most civilized in the most civilized nations. 
 
 We come now to the second position which we proposed 
 to illustrate, to wit, that, as innocent luxury, or a refine- 
 ment in the arts and conveniences of life, is advantageous 
 to the public; so wherever luxury ceases to be innocent, 
 it also ceases to be beneficial ; and when carried a degree 
 farther, begins to be a quality pernicious, though perhaps 
 not the most pernicious, to political society. 
 
 Let us consider what we call vicious luxury. No grati- 
 fication, however sensual, can of itself be esteemed vicious. 
 A gratification is only vicious when it engrosses all a man's 
 expence, and leaves no ability for such acts of duty and ge- 
 nerosity as are required by his situation and fortune. Sup- 
 pose that he correct the vice, and employ part of his ex- 
 pence in the education of his children, in the support of his 
 friends, and in relieving the poor •, would any prejudice re- 
 sult to society ? On the contrary, the same consumption 
 would arise ; and that labour, which at present is employ- 
 ed only in producing a slender gratification to one man, 
 would relieve the necessitous, and bestow satisfaction on 
 hundreds. The same care and toil that raise a dish of 
 pease at Christmas, would give bread to a whole family, 
 during six months. To say that, without a vicious luxury, 
 the labour would not have been employed at all, is only to 
 say, that there is some other defect in human nature, such 
 as indolence, selfishness, inattention to others, for which 
 luxury, in some measure, provides a remedy ; as one poison 
 may be an antidote to another. But virtue, like whole- 
 some food, is better than poisons, however corrected. 
 
 Suppose the same number of men, that are at present in 
 Great Britain, with the same soil and climate ; I ask, is it
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 277 
 
 not possible for them to be happier, by the most perfect 
 way of life that can be imagined, and by the greatest re- 
 formation that Omnipotence itself could work in their tem- 
 per and disposition ? To assert, that they cannot, appears 
 evidently ridiculous. As the land is able to maintain more 
 than all its present inhabitants, they could never, in such 
 a Utopian state, feel any other ills than those which arise 
 from bodily sickness : and these are not the half of human 
 miseries. All other ills spring from some vice, either in 
 ourselves or others ; and even many of our diseases pro- 
 ceed from the same origin. Remove the vices, and the ills 
 follow. You must only take care to remove all the vices. 
 If you remove part, you may render the matter worse. By 
 banishing vicious luxury, without curing sloth and an indif- 
 ference to others, you only diminish industry in the state, 
 and add nothing to men's charity or their generosity. Let 
 us, therefore, rest contented with asserting, that two op- 
 posite vices in a state may be more advantageous than ei- 
 ther of them alone; but let us never pronounce vice in it- 
 self advantageous. Is it not very inconsistent for an au- 
 thor to assert in one page, that moral distinctions are in- 
 ventions of politicians for public interest; and in the next 
 page maintain, that vice is advantageous to the public a ? 
 And indeed it seems, upon any system of morality, little 
 less than a contradiction in terms, to talk of a vice, which 
 is in general beneficial to society. 
 
 I thought this reasoning necessary, in order to give some 
 light to a philosophical question, which has been much dis- 
 puted in England. I call it a philosophical question, not 
 a political one. For whatever may be the consequence of 
 such a miraculous transformation of mankind, as would cn- 
 
 a Fable of the Beec,
 
 1:7 8 essay ir. 
 
 dow them with every species of virtue, and free them from 
 every species of vice ; this concerns not the magistrate, 
 who aims only at possibilities. He cannot cure every vice 
 by substituting a virtue in its place. Very often he can 
 only cure one vice by another ; and in that case, he ought 
 to prefer what is least pernicious to society. Luxury, when 
 excessive, is the source of many ills; but is in general pre- 
 ferable to sloth and idleness, which would commonly suc- 
 ceed in its place, and are more hurtful both to private per- 
 sons and to the public. When sloth reigns, a mean un- 
 cultivated way of life prevails amongst individuals, without 
 society, without enjoyment. And if the sovereign, in such 
 a situation, demands the service of his subjects, the labour 
 of L st;:te suffices only to furnish the necessaries of life 
 to the labourers, and can afford nothing to those who are 
 employed in the public service.
 
 ESSAY III. 
 
 OF MONEY. 
 
 iVJoNEY is not, properly speaking, one of the subjects of 
 commerce ; but only the instrument which men have a- 
 greed upon to facilitate the exchange of one commodity 
 for another. It is none or the wheels of trade : It is die 
 oil which renders the motion of the wheels more smooth 
 and easy. If we consider any one kingdom by itself, it is 
 evident, that the greater or less plenty of money is of no 
 consequence; since the prices of commodities are always 
 proportioned to the plenty of money, and a crown in 
 Harry VII.'s time served the same purpose as a pound does 
 at present. It is only the public which draws any advantage 
 from the greater plenty of money ; and that only in its wars 
 and negociations with foreign states. And this is the rea- 
 son why ail rich and trading countries, from Carthage to 
 Great Britain and Holland, have employed mercenary 
 troops, which they hired from their poorer neighbours. 
 Were they to make use of their native subjects, they would 
 find less advantage from their superior riches, and from 
 their great plenty of gold and silver ; since the pay of all 
 their servants must rise in proportion to the public opu- 
 lence. Our small army of 20,000 men is maintained at as 
 great expence as a French army twice as numerous. The 
 English fleet, during the late war, required as much mo-
 
 £S0 ESSAY III. 
 
 ney to support It as all the Roman legions, which kept the 
 whole world in subjection, during the time of the empe- 
 rors a . 
 
 The great number of people, and their greater industry, 
 are serviceable in all cases ; at home and abroad, in private 
 and in public. But the greater plenty of money is very 
 limited in its use, and may even sometimes be a loss to a 
 nation in its commerce with foreigners. 
 
 There seems to be a happy concurrence of causes in hu- 
 man affairs, which checks the growth of trade and riches, 
 and hinaers them from being confined entirely to one peo- 
 ple ; as might naturally at first be dreaded from the ad- 
 vantages of an established commerce. Where one nation 
 has gotten the start of another in trade, it is very difficult 
 for the latter to regain the ground it has lost; because of 
 the superior industry and skill of the former, and the 
 greater stocks of which its merchants are possessed, and 
 which enable them to trade on so much smaller profits. 
 But these advantages are compensated, in some measure, 
 by the low price of labour in every nation which has not 
 an extensive commerce, and does not much abound in gold 
 and silver. Manufactures, therefore, gradually shift their 
 places, leaving those countries and provinces which they 
 have already enriched, and flying to others, whither they 
 are allured by the cheapness of provisions and labour; till 
 they have enriched these also, and are again banished by 
 the same causes. Anil in general we may observe, that 
 the dearness of every thing, from plenty of money, is a 
 disadvantage, which attends an established commerce, and 
 sets bounds to it in every country, by enabling the poorer 
 states to undersell the richer in all foreign markets. 
 
 5 See Note [P.]
 
 OF MONEY. 281 
 
 This has made me entertain a doubt concerning the 
 benefit of banks and paper- credit, which are so generally 
 esteemed advantageous to every nation. That provisions 
 and labour shouid become dear by the increase of trade 
 and money, is, hi many respects, an inconvenience ; but. 
 an inconvenience that is unavoidable, and the effect of that 
 pubbc wealth and prosperity which are the end of all our 
 wi.-hes It is compensated by the advantages which we 
 Trap iiom the possession of these precious metals, and the 
 weight which they give the nation in all foreign wars and 
 negotiations. Bat there appears no reason for increasing 
 thac inconvenience by a counterfeit money, which foreign- 
 ers wtil not accept of in an} payment, and which any great 
 disoiu'.r in the *tate will reduce to nothing. There are, 
 it is tr ., many people in every rich state, who having 
 large sums of money, would prefer paper with good secu- 
 rity ; a? '■• ing of more easy transport and more safe cus- 
 tody. If tne public provide not a bank, private bankers 
 will taVe advantage of this circumstance, as the goldsmiths 
 formerly did in London, or as the bankers do at present 
 in Dublin : And therefore it is better, it may be thought, 
 that a public company should enjoy the benefit of that 
 paper-credit, which always will have place in every opu- 
 lent kingdom. But to endeavour artificially to increase 
 such a credit, can never be the interest of any trading na- 
 tion ; but must lay them under disadvantages, by increa- 
 sing money beyond its natural proportion to labour and \S 
 commodities, and thereby heightening their price to the 
 merchant and manufacturer. And in this view, it must 
 be allowed, that no bank could be more advantageous than 
 such a one as locked up all the money it received 3 , and 
 
 a This is the case with the bank of Amsterdam.
 
 2%2 ESSAY III. 
 
 never augmented the circulating coin, as is usual by re- 
 luming part of its treasure into commerce. A public 
 bank, by this expedient, might cut off much of the deal- 
 ings of private bankers and money-jobbers : and though 
 the state bore the charge of salaries to the directors and 
 tellers of this bank, (for, according to the preceding sup- 
 position, it would have no profit from its dealings), the 
 national advantage, resulting from the low price of labour 
 and the destruction of paper-credit, would be a sufficient 
 compensation. Not to mention, that so large a sum, lying 
 ready at command, would be a convenience in times of 
 great public danger and distress ; and what part of it was 
 used might be replaced at leisure, when peace and tran- 
 quillity was restored to the nation. 
 
 But of this subject of paper-credit we shall treat more 
 largely hereafter. And I shall finish this essay on money, 
 by proposing and explaining two observations, vhich may 
 perhaps serve to employ the thoughts of our speculative 
 politicians. 
 
 It was a shrewd observation of Anacharsis * the Scythian, 
 who had never seen money in his own country, that gold 
 and silver seemed to him of no use to the Greeks, but to 
 assist them in numeration and arithmetic. It is indeed 
 evident, that money is nothing but the representation of 
 labour and commodities, and serves only as a method of 
 rating or estimating them. Where coin is in greater 
 plenty ; as a greater quantity of it is required to represent 
 the same quantity of goods : it can have no effect, either 
 good or bad, taking a nation within itself; any more than 
 it would make an alteration on a merchant's books, if, in- 
 stead of the Arabian method of notation, which requires 
 
 * Hut. Qunmcdo yuis suus prqfeclns in virtute sentire possit.
 
 OF MONEY. 283 
 
 few characters, he should make use of the Roman, which 
 requires a great many. Nay, the greater quantity of mo- 
 ney, like the Roman characters, is rather inconvenient, 
 ana requires greater trouble both to keep and transport 
 it. But, notwithstanding this conclusion, which must be 
 allowed just, it is certain, that, since the discovery of the 
 mil)"? in America, industry has increased in all the na- 
 tions of Europe, except in the possessors of those mines ; 
 and thi- may justly be ascribed, amongst other reasons, to 
 the increase ot gold aud silver. Accordingly we find, that, 
 in every kingdom, into which money begins to flow in 
 greater abundance than formerly, every thing takes a new 
 face . labour and industry gain life; the merchant becomes 
 more enterprising, the manufacturer more diligent and 
 skiitul, and even the farmer follows his plough with greater 
 alacrity and attention. This is not easily to be accounted 
 for, if we consider only the influence which a greater 
 abundnnce of coin has in the kingdom itself, by heighten- 
 ing the price of commodities, and obliging every one to 
 pay a greater number of these little yellow or white pieces 
 for every thing he purchases. And as to foreign trade, it 
 appears, that great plenty of money is rather disadvan- 
 tageous, by raising the price of every kind of labour. 
 
 To account, then, for this phenomenon, we must consi- 
 der, that though the high price of commodities be a neces- 
 sary consequence of the increase of gold and silver, yet it 
 follows not immediately upon that increase ; but some time 
 is required before the money circulates through the whole 
 state, and makes its effect be felt on all ranks of people. 
 At lirst, no alteration is perceived ; by degrees the price 
 rises, first of one commodity, then of another ; till the 
 whole at last reaches a just proportion with the new quan- 
 tity of specie which is in the kingdom. In my opinion 5
 
 28'1 ESSAY III. 
 
 it is only in this interval or intermediate situation, between 
 the acquisition of money and rise of prices, that the increa- 
 sing quantity of gold and silver is favourable to industry. 
 When any quantity of money is imported into a nation, it 
 is not at first dispersed into many hands ; but is confined 
 to the coffers of a few persons, who immediately seek to 
 employ it to advantage. Here are a set of manufacturers 
 or merchants, we shall suppose, who have received returns 
 of gold and silver for goods which they sent to Cadiz. 
 They are thereby enabled to employ more workmen than 
 formerly, who never dream of demanding higher wages, 
 but are glad of employment from such good paymasters. 
 Jf workmen become scarce, the manufacturer gives higher 
 wages, but at first requires an increase of labour ; and this 
 is willingly submitted to by the artisan, who can now eat 
 and drink better, to compensate his additional toil and fa- 
 tigue. He carries his money to market, where he finds 
 every thing at the same price as formerly, but returns with 
 greater quantity, and of better kinds, for the use of his fa- 
 mily. The farmer and gardener, finding that all their 
 commodities are taken off, apply themselves with alacrity 
 to the raising more ; and at the same time can afford to 
 take better and more clothes from their tradesmen, whose 
 price is the same as formerly, and their industry only whet- 
 ted by so much new gain. It is easy to trace the money 
 in its progress through the whole commonwealth ; where 
 we shall find, that it must first quicken the diligence of 
 every individual, before it increase the price of labour. 
 
 And that the specie may increase to a considerable pitch, 
 before it have this latter effect, appears, amongst other in- 
 stances, from the frequent operations of the French king 
 on the money ; where it was always found, that the aug- 
 menting of the numerary value did not produce a propor-
 
 OF MONEY. 285 
 
 iioaal rise of the prices, at least for some time. In the 
 last year of Louis XIV. money was raised three-sevenths, 
 but prices augmented only one. Corn in France is now 
 sold at the same price, or for the same number of livres, 
 it was in 1632 ; though silver was then at oO livres the 
 mark, and is now at 50 a . Not to mention the great ad- 
 dition of gold and silver, which may have come into that 
 kingdom since the former period. 
 
 From the whole of this reasoning we may conclude, that 
 it is of no manner of consequence with regard to the do- 
 mestic happiness of a state, whether money be in a greater 
 or less quantity. The good policy of the magistrate con- 
 sists only in keeping it, if possible, still increasing ; because 
 by that means he keeps alive a spirit of industry in the 
 nation, and increases the stock of labour in which consists 
 all real power and riches. A nation, whose money de- 
 creases, is actually at that time weaker and more miser- 
 able than another nation which possesses no more money, 
 but is on the increasing hand. This will be easily account- 
 ed for, if we consider that the alterations in the quantity 
 of money, either on one side or the other, are not imme- 
 diately attended with proportionable alterations in the price 
 of commodities. There is always an interval before mat- 
 ters be adjusted to their new situation ; and this interval is 
 as pernicious to industry, when gold and silver are dimi- 
 nishing, as it is advantageous when these metals are in- 
 creasing. The workman has not the same employment 
 from the manufacturer and merchant ; though he pays the 
 same price for every thing in the market. The farmer 
 cannot dispose of his corn and cattle, though he must pay 
 
 a See Note [Q.'i
 
 266 ESSAY III. 
 
 the same rent to his landlord. The poverty and beggary, 
 and sloth, which must ensue, are easily foreseen. 
 
 II. The second observation which I proposed to make 
 with regard to money, may be explained after the follow- 
 ing manner: There are some kingdoms, and many provin- 
 ces in Europe, (and all of them were onee in the same con- 
 dition), where money is so scarce, that the landlord can 
 get none at all from his tenants, but is obliged to take his 
 rent in kind, and either to consume it himself, or transport 
 it to places where he may find a market. In those coun- 
 tries, the prince can levy lew or no taxes but in the same 
 manner j and as he will receive small benefit from impo- 
 sitions so paid, it is evident that such a kingdom has little 
 force even at home, and cannot maintain fleets and armies 
 to the same extent as if every part of it abounded in gold 
 and silver. There is surely a greater disproportion be- 
 tween the force of Germany at present, and what it was 
 three centuries ago a , than there is in its industry, people, 
 and manufactures. The Austrian dominions in the em- 
 pire are in general well peopled and well cultivated, -md 
 are of great extent, but have not a proportionable weight 
 in the balance of Europe ; proceeding, as is commonly 
 supposed, from the scarcity of money. How do all these 
 facts agree with that principle of reason, that the quantity 
 of sold and silver is in itself altogether indifferent? Ac- 
 cording to that principle, wherever a sovereign has num- 
 bers of subjects, and these have plenty of commodities, he 
 should of course be great and powerful, and they rich and 
 happy, independent of the greater or lesser abundance of 
 
 * The Italians gave to the emperor Maximilian the nickname of Pocci- 
 D.\,kau:. None of the cnterprizes of that prince ever succeeded, for want of 
 monev.
 
 OF MONEY. 287 
 
 the precious metals. These admit of divisions and subdi- 
 visions to a great extent ; and where the pieces might be- 
 come so small as to be in danger of being lost, it is easy to 
 mix the gold or silver with a baser metal, as is practised 
 in some countries of Europe, and by that means raise the 
 pieces to a bulk more sensible and convenient. They still 
 serve the same purposes of exchange, whatever their num- 
 ber may be, or whatever colour they may be supposed to 
 have. 
 
 To these difficulties I answer, that the effect here sup- 
 posed to flow from scarcity of money, really arises from the 
 manners and customs of the people; and that we mistake, 
 as is too usual, a collateral effect for a cause. The contra- 
 diction is only apparent ; but it requires some thought and 
 reflection to discover the principles by which we can re- 
 concile reason to experience. 
 
 It seems a maxim almost self-evident, that the prices of 
 every thing depend on the proportion between commodi- 
 ties and money, and that any considerable alteration on 
 cither has the same effect, either of heightening or lower- 
 ing the price. Increase the commodities, thry become 
 cheaper ; increase the money, they rise in their value. As, 
 on the other hand, a diminution of the former, and that 
 of the latter, have contrary tendencies. 
 
 It is also evident, that the prices do not so much depend 
 on the absolute quantity of commodities and that of money 
 which are in a nation, as on that of the commodities which 
 come or may come into market, and of the money which 
 circulates. If the coin be locked up in chests, it is the 
 same thing with regard to prices, as if it were annihilated; 
 if the commodities be hoarded in magazines and granaries, 
 a like effect follows. As the money and commodities, in 
 these cases, never meet, they cannot affect each other.
 
 288 ESSAY III. 
 
 Were we, at any time, to form conjectures concerning the 
 price of provisions, the corn, which the farmer muse re- 
 serve for seed, and for the maintenance of himseif and fa- 
 mily, ought never to enter into estimation. I' is onlv the 
 overplus, compared to the demand, that determines the 
 value. 
 
 To apply these principles, we must consider, that in the 
 first and more uncultivated ages of any state, ere fancy has 
 confounded her wants with those of nature, men, content 
 with the produce of their own fields, or with those rude 
 improvements which they themselves can work upon them, 
 have little occasion for exchange, at least for money, which, 
 by agreement, is the common measure of exchange. The 
 wool of the farmer's own flock, spun in his own family, 
 and wrought by a neighbouring weaver, who receives his 
 payment in corn or wool, suffices for furniture and cloth- 
 ing. The carpenter, the smith, the mason, the tailor, are 
 retained by wages of a like nature; and the landlord him- 
 self, dwelling in the neighbourhood, is content to receive 
 his rent in the commodities raised by the farmer. The 
 greater part of these lie consumes at home, in rustic ho- 
 spitality : The rest, perhaps, he disposes of for money to 
 the neighbouring town, whence he draws the few mate- 
 rials of his expence and luxury. 
 
 But after men begin to refine en all these enjoyments, 
 and live not always at home, nor are content with what 
 can be raised in their neighbourhood, there is moro ex- 
 change and commerce of all kinds, and more money enters 
 into that exchange. The tradesmen will not be paid in 
 corn, because they want something more than barely to 
 eat. The farmer goes beyond his own parish for the com- 
 modities he purchases, and cannot always carry his com- 
 modities to the merchant who supplies him. The land-
 
 OF MONEY. 289 
 
 lord lives in the capital, or in a foreign country ; and de- 
 mands his rent in gold and silver, which can easily be 
 transported to him. Great undertakers, and manufactu- 
 rers, and merchants, arise in every commodity; and these 
 can conveniently deal in nothing but in specie. And con- 
 sequently, in this situation of society, the coin enters into 
 many more contracts, and by that means is much more 
 employed than in the former. 
 
 The necessary effect is, that provided the money in- 
 crease not in the nation, every thing must become much 
 cheaper in times of industry and refinement, than in rude 
 uncultivated ages. It is the proportion between the cir- 
 culating money, and the commodities in the market, which 
 determines the prices. Goods that are consumed at home, 
 or exchanged with other goods in the neighbourhood, 
 never come to market ; they affect not in the least the 
 current specie ; with regard to it they are as if totally an- 
 nihilated ; and consequently this method of using them 
 sinks the proportion on the side of the commodities, and 
 increases the prices. But after money enters into all con- 
 tracts and sales, and is everywhere the measure of exchange, 
 the same national cash has a much greater task to perform ; 
 all commodities are then in the market; the sphere of 
 circulation is enlarged ; it is the same case as if that indi- 
 vidual sum were to serve a larger kingdom ; and therefore, 
 the proportion being here lessened on the side of the mo- 
 ney, every thing must become cheaper, and the prices gra- 
 dually fall. 
 
 By the most exact computation? that have been formed 
 all ever Europe, after making allowance for the alteration 
 in the numerary value or the denomination, it is found, 
 that the prices of all things have only risen three, or, at 
 most, four times since the discovery of the West Indies. 
 vol . I. w
 
 L>i)0 ESSAY III. 
 
 But will any one assert, that there is not much more than 
 four times the coin in Europe, that was in the fifteenth 
 century, and the centuries preceding' it? The Spaniards 
 and Portuguese from their mines, the English, French, 
 and Dutch, by their African trade, and by their interlo- 
 pers in the West Indies, bring home about six millions 
 a-year, of which not above a third goes to the East In- 
 dies. This sum alone, in ten years, would probably double 
 the ancient stock of money in Europe. And no other sa- 
 tisfactory reason can be given, why all prices have not ri- 
 sen to a much more exorbitant height, except that which 
 is derived from a change of customs and manners. Be- 
 sides that more commodities are produced by additional 
 industry, the same commodities come more to market, af- 
 ter men depart from their ancient simplicity of manners. 
 And though this increase has not been equal to that of 
 money, it has, however, been considerable, and has pre- 
 served the proportion between coin and commodities near- 
 er the ancient standard. 
 
 Were the question proposed, Which of these methods of 
 living in the people, the simple or refined, is the most ad- 
 vantageous to the state or public ? I should, without much 
 scruple, prefer the latter, in a view to polities at least ; and 
 should produce this as an additional reason for the encou- 
 ragement of trade and manufactures. 
 
 While men live in the ancient simple manner, and sup- 
 ply all their necessaries from domestic industry, or from 
 the neighbourhood, the sovereign can levy no taxes in 
 money from a considerable part of his subjects ; and if he 
 will impose on them any burdens, he must take payment 
 in commodities, with which alone they abound; a method 
 attended with such great and obvious inconveniences, that 
 they need not here be insisted on. All the money he can
 
 OF MONEY. 291 
 
 pretend to raise must be from his principal cities, where 
 alone it circulates ; and these, it is evident, cannot afford 
 him so much as the whole state could, did gold and silver 
 circulate throughout the whole. But besides this obvious 
 diminution of the revenue, there is another cause of the 
 poverty of the public in such a situation. Not only the 
 sovereign receives less money, but the same money goes 
 not so far as in times of industry and general commerce. 
 Every thing is dearer where the gold and silver are sup- 
 posed equal ; and that because fewer commodities come to 
 market, and the whole coin bears a higher proportion to 
 what is to be purchased by it ; whence alone the prices of 
 every thing are fixed and determined. 
 
 Here than we may learn the fallacy of the remark, often 
 to be met with in historians, and even in common con- 
 versation, that any particular state is weak, though fertile, 
 populous, and well cultivated, merely because it wants 
 money. It appears, that the want of money can never in- 
 jure any state within itself; for men and commodities are 
 the real strength of any community. It is the simple man- 
 ner of living which here hurts the public, by confining the 
 gold and silver to few hands, and preventing its universal 
 diffusion and circulation. On the contrary, industry and 
 refinements of all kinds incorporate it with the whole state, 
 however small its quantity may be : They digest it into 
 every vein, so to speak j and make it enter into every trans- 
 action and contract. No hand is entirely empty of it. 
 And as the prices of every thing fall by that means, the 
 sovereign has a double advantage : He may draw money 
 by his taxes from every part of the state ; and what he re- 
 ceives, goes farther in every purchase and payment. 
 
 We may infer, from a comparison of prices, that money 
 is not more plentiful in China, than it was in Europe three
 
 '292 ESSAY III. 
 
 centuries ago : But what immense power is that empire 
 possessed of, if we may judge by the civil and military es- 
 tablishment maintained by it ? Polybius a tells us, that 
 provisions were so cheap in Italy during his time, that in 
 some places the stated price for a meal at the inns was a 
 semis a-head, little more than a farthing ! Yet the Roman 
 power had even then subdued the whole known world. 
 About a century before that period, the Carthaginian am- 
 bassador said, by way of raillery, that no people lived more 
 sociably amongst themselves than the Romans; for that, 
 in every entertainment, which, as foreign ministers, they 
 received, they still observed the same plate at every table a . 
 The absolute quantity of the precious metals is a matter of 
 great indifference. There are only two circumstances of 
 any importance, namely, their gradual increase, and. their 
 thorough concoction and circulation through the state ; 
 and the influence of both those circumstances has here 
 been explained. 
 
 In the following essay we shall see an instance of a like 
 fallacy as that above mentioned ; where a collateral effect 
 is taken for a cause, and where a consequence is ascribed 
 to the plenty of money ; though it be really owing to a 
 change in the manners and customs of the people. 
 
 * Lib. ii. cap. 15. b Plin. lib. xxxiif. cap. II.
 
 ESSAY IV. 
 
 OF INTEREST. 
 
 JN othing is esteemed a more certain sign of the flourish- 
 ing condition of any nation than the lowness of interest : 
 And with reason ; though I believe the cause is somewhat 
 different from what is commonly apprehended. Lowness 
 of interest is generally ascribed to plenty of money. But 
 money, however plentiful, has no other effect, ifjixed^ than 
 to raise the price of labour. Silver is more common than 
 gold ; and therefore you receive a greater quantity of it for 
 the same commodities. But do you pay less interest for it ? 
 Interest in Batavia and Jamaica is at 10 per cent., in Portu- 
 gal at 6 ; though these places, as we may learn from the 
 prices of every thing, abound more in gold and silver than 
 either London or Amsterdam. 
 
 Were all the gold in England annihilated at once, and 
 one and twenty shillings substituted in the place of every 
 guinea, would money be more plentiful, or interest lower ? 
 No, surely : We should only use silver instead of gold. 
 Were gold rendered as common as silver, and silver as 
 common as copper; would money be more plentiful or 
 interest lower ? We may assuredly give the same answer. 
 Our shillings would then be yellow, and our halfpence 
 white; and we should have no guineas. No other differ- 
 ence would ever be observed ; no alteration on commerce,
 
 29* ESSAY IV. 
 
 manufactures, navigation, or interest ; unless we imagine 
 that the colour of the metal is of any consequence. 
 
 Now, what is so visible in these greater variations of 
 scarcity or abundance in the precious metals must hold in 
 all inferior changes. If the multiplying of gold and silver 
 fifteen times makes no difference, much less can the dou- 
 bling or tripling them. All augmentation has no other 
 effect than to heighten the price of labour and commodi- 
 ties ; and even this variation is little more than that of a 
 name. In the progress towards these changes, the aug- 
 mentation may have some influence, by exciting industry j 
 but after the prices are settled, suitably to the new abun- 
 dance of gold and silver, it has no manner of influence. 
 
 An effect always holds proportion with its cause. Prices 
 have risen near four times since the discovery of the Indies ; 
 and it is probable gold and silver have multiplied much 
 more : But interest has not fallen much above half. The 
 rate of interest, therefore, is not derived from the quantity 
 of the precious metals. 
 
 Money having chiefly a fictitious value, the greater or less 
 plenty of it is of no consequence, if we consider a nation 
 within itself j and the quantity of specie, when once fixed, 
 though ever so large, has no other effect, than to oblige 
 every one to tell out a greater number of those shining 
 bits of metal, for clothes, furniture, or equipage, without in- 
 creasing any one convenience of life. If a man borrow 
 money to build a house, he then carries home a greater 
 load ; because the stone, timber, lead, glass, Sec. with the 
 labour of the masons and carpenters, arc represented by a 
 greater quantity of gold and silver. But as these metal- 
 arc considered chiefly as representations, there can no alte- 
 ration arise, from their bulk or quantity, their weight or 
 colour, cither upon their real value or their interest. The
 
 OF INTEREST. 295 
 
 same interest, in all cases, bears the same proportion to the 
 sum. And if you lent me so much labour and so many 
 commodities; by receiving five per cent, you always re- 
 ceive proportional labour and commodities, however re- 
 presented, whether by yellow or white coin, whether by a 
 pound or an ounce. It is in vain, therefore, to look for 
 the cause of the fall or rise of interest in the greater or less 
 quantity of gold and silver, which is fixed in any nation. 
 
 High interest arises from three circumstances : A great 
 demand for borrowing j little riches to supply that de- 
 mand ; and great profits arising from commerce : And 
 the circumstances are a clear proof of the small advance 
 of commerce and industry, not of the scarcity of gold and 
 silver. Low interest, on the other hand, proceeds from 
 the three opposite circumstances : A small demand for bor- 
 rowing ; great riches to supply that demand ; and small 
 profits arising from commerce : And these circumstances 
 are all connected together, and proceed from the increase 
 of industry and commerce, not of gold and silver. We 
 shall endeavour to prove these points ; and shall begin 
 with the causes and the effects of a great or small demand 
 for borrowing. ¥ 
 
 When a people have emerged ever so little from a sa- 
 vage state, and their numbers have increased beyond the 
 original multitude, there must immediately arise an ine- 
 quality of property ; and while some possess large tracts 
 of land, others are confined within narrow limits, and some 
 are entirely without any landed property. Those who 
 possess more land than they can labour, employ those 
 who possess none, and agree to receive a determinate part 
 of the product. Thus the landed interest is immediately 
 established ; nor is there any settled government, however 
 rude, in which affairs are not on this footing. Of these
 
 296 ESSAY IV. 
 
 proprietors of land, some must presently discover them- 
 selves to be of different tempers from others ; and while 
 one would willingly store up the produce of his land for 
 futurity, another desires to consume at present what should 
 suffice for many years. But as the spending of a settled 
 revenue is a way of life entirely without occupation ; men 
 have so much need of somewhat to fix and engage them, 
 that pleasures, such as they are, will be the pursuit of the 
 greater part of the landholders, and the prodigals among 
 them will always be more numerous than the misers. In 
 a state, therefore, where there is nothing but a landed in- 
 terest, as there is little frugality, the borrowers must be 
 very numerous, and the rate of interest must hold propor- 
 tion to it. The difference depends not on the quantity of 
 money, but on the habits and manners which prevail. By 
 this alone the demand for borrowing is increased or dimi- 
 nished. Were money so plentiful as to make an egg be 
 sold for sixpence ; so long as there are only landed gen- 
 try and peasants in the state, the borrowers must be nu- 
 merous, and interest high. The rent for the same farm 
 would be heavier and more bulky : But the same idleness 
 of the landlord, with the high price of commodities, would 
 dissipate it in the same time, and produce the same ne- 
 cessity and demand for borrowing. 
 
 7* Nor is the case different with regard to the second cir- 
 cs 
 
 cumstance which we proposed to consider, namely, the 
 great or little riches to supply the demand. This effect 
 also depends on the habits and way of living of the people, 
 not on the quantity of gold and silver. In order to have, 
 in any state, a greater number of lenders, it is not suffi- 
 cient nor requisite, that there be great abundance of the 
 precious metals. It is only requisite, that the property 
 or command of that quantity, which is in the state, whe-
 
 OF INTEREST. 297 
 
 ther great or small, should be collected in particular 
 hands, so as to form considerable sums, or compose a 
 great moneyed interest. This begets a number of lenders, 
 and sinks the rate of usury : and this, I shall venture to 
 affirm, depends not on the quantity of specie, but on par- 
 ticular manners and customs, which make the specie ga- 
 ther into separate sums or masses of considerable value. 
 
 For suppose that, by miracle, every man in Great Bri- 
 tain should have five pounds slipt into his pocket in one 
 night ; this would much more than double the whole mo- 
 ney that is at present in the kingdom ; yet there would 
 not next day, nor for some time, be any more lenders, nor 
 any variation in the interest. And were there nothing 
 but landlords and peasants in the state, this money, how- 
 ever abundant, could never gather into sums; and would 
 only serve to increase the prices of every thing, without 
 any farther consequence. The prodigal landlord dissi- 
 pates it, as fast as he receives it; and the beggarly peasant 
 has no means, nor view, nor ambition of obtaining above 
 a bare livelihood. The overplus of borrowers above that 
 of lenders continuing still the same, there will follow no 
 reduction of interest. That depends upon another prin- 
 ciple ; and must proceed from an increase of industry _and 
 frugality, of arts and commerce. 
 
 Every thing useful to the life of man arises from the 
 ground; but few things arise in that condition which is 
 requisite to render them useful. There must, therefore, 
 beside the peasants and the proprietors of laud, be another 
 rank of men, who, receiving from the former the rude 
 materials, work them into their proper form, and retain 
 part for their own use and subsistence. In the infancy of 
 society, these contracts between the artisans and the pea- 
 sants, and between one species of artisans and another,
 
 298 ESSAY JV. 
 
 are commonly entered into immediately by the persons 
 themselves, who being neighbours, arc easily acquainted 
 with each other's necessities, and can lend their mutual 
 assistance to supply them. But when men's industry in- 
 creases, and their views enlarge, it is found, that the most 
 remote parts of the state can assist each other as well as 
 the more contiguous, and that this intercourse of good 
 offices may be carried on to the greatest extent and intri- 
 cacy. Hence the origin of merchants, one of the most 
 useful races of men, who serve as agents between those 
 parts of the state that are wholly unacquainted, and are 
 ignorant of each other's necessities. Here are in a city 
 iil'ty workmen in silk and linen, and a thousand custom- 
 ers ; and these two ranks of men, so necessary to each 
 other, can never rightly meet, till one man erects a shop, 
 to which all the workmen and all the customers repair. 
 In this province, grass rises in abundance : The inhabi- 
 tants abound in cheese, and butter, and cattle ; but want 
 bread and corn, which, in a neighbouring province, are in 
 too Great abundance for the use of the inhabitants. One 
 man discovers this. He brings corn from the one pro- 
 vince, and returns with cattle ; and, supplying the wants 
 of both, he is, so far, a common benefactor. As the peo- 
 ple increase in numbers and industry, the difficulty of their 
 intercourse increases : The business of the agency or mer- 
 chandise becomes more intricate ; and divides, subdivides, 
 compounds, and mixes to a greater variety. In all these 
 transactions it is necessary, and reasonable, that a consi- 
 derable part of the commodities and labour should belong 
 to the merchant, to whom, in a great measure, they are 
 owing. And these commodities he will sometimes preserve 
 in kind, or more commonly convert into money, which is 
 their common representation. If gold and silver have in-
 
 OF INTEREST. 29i> 
 
 creased in the state together with the industry, it will re- 
 quire a great quantity of these metals to represent a great 
 quantity of commodities and labour. If industry alone 
 has increased, the prices of every thing must sink, and a 
 small quantity of specie will serve as a representation. 
 
 There is no craving or demand of the human mind 
 more constant and insatiable than that for exercise and 
 employment ; and this desire seems the foundation of most 
 of our passions and pursuits. Deprive a man of all busi- 
 ness and serious occupation, he runs restless from one 
 amusement to another ; and the weight and oppression 
 which he feels from idleness is so great, that he forgets 
 the ruin which must follow him from his immoderate ex- 
 pences. Give him a more harmless way of employing his 
 mind or body, he is satisfied, and feels no longer that in- 
 satiable thirst after pleasure. But if the employment you 
 give him be lucrative, especially if. the profit be attached 
 to every particular exertion of industry, he has<gain so of- 
 ten in his eye, that he acquires, by degrees, a passion for 
 it, and knows no such pleasure as that of seeing the daily 
 increase of his fortune. And this is the reason why trade 
 increases frugality, and why, among merchants, there is 
 the same overplus of misers above prodigals, as among the 
 possessors of land there is the contrary. 
 
 Commerce increases industry, by conveying it readily 
 from one member of the state to another, and allowing 
 none of it to perish or become useless. It increases fru- 
 gality, by giving occupation to men, and employing them 
 in the arts of gain, which soon engage their affection, and 
 remove all relish for pleasure and expence. It is an in- 
 fallible consequence of all industrious professions to beget, 
 frugality, and make the love of gain prevail over the love 
 of pleasure. Among lawyers and physicians who have
 
 300 ESSAY IV. 
 
 any practice, there are many more who live within their 
 income, than who exceed it, or even live up to it. But 
 lawyers and physicians beget no industry; and it is even 
 at the expence of others they acquire their riches; so that 
 they are sure to diminish the possessions of some of their 
 fellow-citizens, as fast as they increase their own. Mer- 
 chants, on the contrary, beget industry, by serving as ca- 
 nals to convey it through every corner of the state : And 
 at the same time, by their frugality, they acquire great 
 power over that industry, and collect a large property in 
 the labour and commodities, which they are the chief in- 
 struments in producing. There is no other profession, 
 therefore, except merchandise, which can make the moneyed 
 interest considerable, or, in other words, can increase in- 
 dustry, and, by also increasing frugality, give a great com- 
 mand of that industry to particular members of the socie- 
 ty. Without commerce, the state must consist chiefly of 
 landed gentry, whose prodigality and expence make a con- 
 tinual demand for borrowing; and of peasants, who have 
 no sums to supply that demand. The money never ga- 
 thers into large stocks or sums, which can be lent at inte- 
 rest. It is dispersed into numberless hands, who either 
 squander it in idle shew and magnificence, or employ it in 
 the purchase of the common necessaries of life. Com- 
 merce alone assembles it into considerable sums ; and this 
 effect it has merely from the industry which it begets, and 
 the frugality which it inspires, independent of that par- 
 ticular quantity of precious metal which may circulate in 
 the state. 
 
 Thus an increase of commerce, by a necessary conse- 
 quence, raises a great number of lenders, and by that means 
 produces lowncss of interest. We must now consider how 
 iar this increase of commerce diminishes the profits arising
 
 OJF INTEREST. 301 
 
 from that profession, and gives rise to the third circum- 
 tance requisite to produce lowness of interest. 
 
 It may be proper to observe on this head, that low in- 
 terest and low profits of merchandise, are two events that 
 mutually forward each other, and are both originally de- 
 rived from that extensive commerce, which produces opu- 
 lent merchants, and renders the moneyed interest consi- 
 derable. Where merchants possess great stocks, whether 
 represented by few or many pieces of metal, it must fre- 
 quently happen, that, when they either become tired of 
 business, or leave heirs unwilling or unfit to engage in 
 commerce, a great proportion of these riches naturally 
 seeks an annual and secure revenue. The plenty dimi- 
 nishes the price, and makes the lenders accept of a low in- 
 terest. This consideration obliges many to keep their 
 stock employed in trade, and rather be content with low 
 profits, than dispose of their money at an undervalue. On 
 the other hand, when commerce has become extensive, and 
 employs large stocks, there must arise rivalships among the 
 merchants, which diminish the profits of trade, at the same 
 time that they increase the trade itself. The low profits 
 of merchandise induce the merchants to accept more will- 
 ingly of a low interest, when they leave off business, and 
 begin to indulge themselves in ease and indolence. It is 
 needless, therefore, to inquire which of these circumstan- 
 ces, to wit, low interest, or low profits, is the cause, and 
 which the effect ? They both arise from an extensive com- 
 merce, and mutually forward each other. No man will 
 accept of low profits where he can have high interest ; and 
 no man will accept of low interest where he, can havehiVh 
 profits. An extensive commerce, by producing large 
 stocks, diminishes both interest and profits ; and is always 
 assisted, in its diminution of the one, by the proportional
 
 302 ESSAY IV. 
 
 sinking of the other. I may add, that, as low profits arise 
 from the increase of commerce and industry, they serve in 
 their turn to its farther increase, by rendering the com- 
 modities cheaper, encouraging the consumption, and 
 heightening the industry. And thus, if we consider the 
 [whole connection of causes and effects, interest is the ba- 
 rometer of the state, and its lowness is a sign almost in- 
 fallible of the flourishing condition of a people. It proves 
 the increase of industry, and its prompt circulation, through 
 the whole state, little inferior to a demonstration. And 
 though, perhaps, it may not be impossible but a sudden 
 and a great check to commerce may have a momentary ef- 
 fect of the same kind, by throwing so many stocks out of 
 trade; it must be attended with such misery and want of 
 employment to the poor, that, besides its short duration, 
 it will not be possible to mistake the one case for the other. 
 Those who have asserted, that the plenty of money 
 was the cause of low interest, seem to have taken a colla- 
 teral effect for a cause; since the same industry, which 
 sinks the interest, commonly acquires great abundance of 
 the precious metals. A variety of fine manufactures, with 
 vigilant enterprising merchants, will soon draw money to 
 a state, if it be any where to be found in the world. The 
 same cause, by multiplying the conveniences of life, and in- 
 creasing industrv, collects great riches into the hands of 
 persons, who are not proprietors of land, and produces, 
 by that means, a lowness of interest. But though both 
 these effects, plenty of money and low interest, naturally 
 arise from commerce and industry, they are altogether in- 
 dependent of each other, ior suppose a nation removed 
 into the Pacific ocean, without any foreign commerce, or 
 any knowledge of navigation : Suppose that this nation 
 possesses always the same stock of coin, but is continually
 
 OF INTEREST. 303 
 
 increasing in its numbers and industry : It is evident, that 
 the price of every commodity must gradually diminish in 
 that kingdom ; since it is the proportion between money 
 and any species of goods which fixes their mutual value : 
 and, upon the present supposition, the conveniences of life 
 become every day more abundant, without any alteration 
 in the current specie. A less quantity of money, therefore, 
 among this people, will make a rich man, during the times 
 of industry, than would suffice to that purpose, in igno- 
 rant and slothful ages. Less money will build a house, 
 portion a daughter, buy an estate, support a manufactory, 
 or maintain a family and equipage. These are the uses 
 for which men borrow money ; and therefore, the greater 
 or less quantity of it in a state has no influence on the 
 interest. But it is evident, that the greater or less stock 
 of labour and commodities must have a great influence ; 
 since we really and in effect borrow these, when we 
 take money upon interest. It is true, when commerce 
 is extended all over the globe, the most industrious na- 
 tions always abound most with the precious metals ; so 
 that low interest and plenty of money are in fact almost 
 inseparable. But still it is of consequence to know the 
 principle whence any phenomenon arises, and to distin- 
 guish between a cause and a concomitant effect. Besides 
 that the speculation is curious, it may frequently be of use 
 in the conduct of public affairs. At least, it must be owned, 
 that nothing can be of more use than to improve, by prac- 
 tice, the method of reasoning on these subjects, which of 
 ail others are the most important •, though they are com- 
 monly treated in the loosest and most careless manner. 
 
 Another reason of this popular mistake with regard to 
 the cause of low interest, seems to be the instance of some 
 ■nations, where, after a sudden acquisition of money, or oi
 
 30£ ESSAY IV. 
 
 the precious metals by means of foreign conquest, the in- 
 terest lias fallen not only among them, but in all the neigh- 
 bouring states, as soon as that money was dispersed, and 
 had insinuated itself into every corner. Thus, interest in 
 Spain fell near a half immediately after the discovery of 
 the West Indies, as we are informed by Garcilasso de la 
 Vega •, and it has been ever since gradually sinking in 
 every kingdom of Europe. Interest in Rome, after the 
 conquest of Egypt, fell from 6 to 4 per cent, as we learn 
 from Dion a . 
 
 The causes of the sinking of interest, upon such an 
 event, seem different in the conquering country and in the 
 neighbouring states ; but in neither of them can we justly 
 .ascribe that effect merely to the increase of gold and silver. 
 
 In the conquering country, it is natural to imagine, that 
 this new acquisition of money will fall into a few hands, 
 and be gathered into large sums, which seek a secure re- 
 venue, either by the purchase of land, or by interest; and 
 consequently the same effect follows, for a little time, as if 
 there had been a great accession of industry and com- 
 merce. The increase of lenders above the borrowers sinks 
 the interest, and so much the faster, if those who have ac- 
 quired those large sums find no industry or commerce in 
 the state, and no method of employing their money but 
 by lending it at interest. But after this new mass of gold 
 and silver has been digested, and has circulated through 
 the whole state, affairs will soon return to their former si- 
 tuation, while the landlords and new money-holders, living 
 idly, squander above their income ; and the former daily 
 contract debt, and the latter encroach on their stock till 
 its final extinction. The whole money may still be in the 
 
 » Lib, li.
 
 OF INTEREST. 305 
 
 state, and make itself felt bj the increase of prices ; but 
 not being now collected into any large masses or stocks, 
 the disproportion between the borrowers and lenders is 
 the same as formerly, and consequently the high interest 
 returns. 
 
 Accordingly we find in Rome, that, so early as Tibe- 
 rius's time, interest had again mounted to 6 per cent a . 
 though no accident had happened to drain the empire of 
 money. In Trajan's time, money lent on mortgages in 
 Italy bore 6 per cent b , on common securities in Bithynia 
 12 c ; and if interest in Spain has not risen to its old pitch, 
 this can be ascribed to nothing but the continuance of the 
 same cause that sunk it, to wit, the large fortunes con- 
 tinually made in the Indies, which come over to Spain 
 from time to time, and supply the demand of the borrow- 
 ers. By this accidental and extraneous cause, mere mo- 
 ney is to be lent in Spain, that is, more money is collected 
 into large sums, than would otherwise be found in a state, 
 where there are so little commerce and industry. 
 
 As to the reduction of interest which has folk. wed in 
 England, France, and other kingdoms of Europe that 
 have no mines, it has been gradual, and has not proceed- 
 ed from the increase of money, considered merely in it- 
 self, but from that of industry, which is the natural effect 
 of the former increase in that interval, before it raises the 
 prices of labour and provisions; for to return to the fore- 
 going supposition, if the industry of England had risen as 
 much from other causes, (and that rise might easily have 
 happened, though the stock of money had remained the 
 same), must not all the same consequences have followed, 
 
 a Columella, lib. iii. cap. 3. 
 h Plinii Epist. lib. vii. ep, IS. 
 c Id. lib. x. ep. 62. 
 
 VOL. I. X '
 
 M06' JCSSAY IV. 
 
 which we observe at present? The same people would in 
 that case be found in the kingdom, the same commodities, 
 the same industry, manufactures, and commerce; and 
 consequently the same merchants, with the same stocks, 
 that is, with the same command over labour and commo- 
 dities, only represented by a smaller number of white or 
 yellow pieces, which being a circumstance of no moment, 
 would only affect the waggoner, porter, and trunk maker. 
 Luxury, therefore, manufactures, arts, industry, frugality, 
 flourishing equally as at present, it is evident, that interest 
 must also have been as low, since that is the necessary re- 
 sult of all these circumstances, so far as they determine 
 the profits of commerce, and the proportion between the 
 borrowers and lenders in any state.
 
 ESSAY V. 
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TrvADE. 
 
 It is very usual, in nations ignorant pf the nature of com- 
 merce, to prohibit the exportation of commodities, and to 
 preserve among themselves whatever they think valuable 
 and useful. They do not consider, that in this prohibi- 
 tion they act directly contrary to their intention ; and that 
 the more is exported of any commodity, the more will be 
 raised at home, of which they themselves will always have 
 the first offer. 
 
 It is well known to the learned, that the ancient laws 
 of Athens rendered the exportation of figs criminal; that 
 being supposed a species of fruit so excellent in Attica, 
 that the Athenians deemed it too delicious for the palate 
 of any foreigner; and in this ridiculous prohibition they 
 were so much in earnest, that informers were thence called 
 sijcophants among them, from two Greek words, which 
 signify Jigs and discoverer*. There are proofs in many 
 old acts of parliament of the same ignorance in the nature 
 of commerce, particularly in the reign of Edward III.; 
 and to this day, in France, the exportation of corn is al- 
 most always prohibited, in order, as they say, to prevent 
 famines; though it is evident, that nothing contributes 
 
 * Plut. De Curiositate.
 
 308 ESSAY V. 
 
 more to the frequent famines, which so much distress that 
 fertile country. 
 
 The same jealous fear, with regard to money, has also 
 prevailed among several nations ; and it required both rea- 
 son and experience to convince any people, that these 
 prohibitions serve to no other purpose than to raise the 
 exchange against them, and produce a still greater expor- 
 tation. 
 
 These errors, one may say, are gross and palpable ; but 
 there still prevails, even in nations well acquainted with 
 commerce, a strong jealousy with regard to the balance of 
 ■ trade, and a fear that all their gold and silver may be lea- 
 ving them. This seems to me, almost in every case, a 
 groundless apprehension ; and I should as soon dread, that 
 all our springs and rivers should be exhausted, as that 
 money should abandon a kingdom where there are people 
 and industry. Let us carefully preserve these latter ad- 
 vantages, and we need never be apprehensive of losing the 
 former. 
 
 It is easy to observe, that all calculations concerning the 
 balance of trade are founded on very uncertain facts and 
 suppositions, The custom-house books are allowed to be 
 an insufficient ground of reasoning ; nor is the rate of ex- 
 change much better, unless we consider it with all nations, 
 and know also the proportion of the several sums remit- 
 ted, which one may safely pronounce impossible. Every 
 man, who has ever reasoned on this subject, has always 
 proved his theory, whatever it was, by facts and calcula- 
 tions, and by an enumeration of all the commodities sent 
 to all foreign kingdoms. 
 
 The writings of Mr (Tee struck the nation with an uni- 
 versal panic, when they saw it plainly demonstrated, by a 
 fletail of particulars, that the balance was against them for
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 309 
 
 so considerable a sum, as must leave them without a single 
 shilling in five or six years. But luckily, twenty years 
 have since elapsed, with an expensive foreign war ; yet it 
 is commonly supposed, that money is still more plentiful 
 among us than in any former period. 
 
 Nothing can be more entertaining on this head that Dr 
 Swift ; an author so quick in discerning the mistakes and 
 absurdities of others. He says, in his Short View of the 
 State of Ireland, that the whole cash of that kingdom for- 
 merly amounted but to L. 500,000 ; that out of this the 
 Irish remitted every year a neat million to England, and 
 had scarcely any other source from which they could com- 
 pensate themselves, and little other foreign trade than the 
 importation of French wines, for which they paid ready 
 money. The consequence of this situation, which must 
 be owned to be disadvantageous, was, that, in a course of 
 three years, the current money of Ireland, from L. 500,000, 
 was reduced to less than two. And at present, I suppose, 
 in a course of thirty years, it is absolutely nothing. Yet I 
 know not how that opinion of the advance of riches in Ire- 
 land, which gave the Doctor so much indignation, seems 
 still to continue, and gain ground with every body. 
 
 In short, this apprehension of the wrong balance of 
 trade, appears of such a nature, that it discovers itself 
 wherever one is out of humour with the ministry, or is in 
 low spirits ; and as it can never be refuted by a particular 
 detail of all the exports which counterbalance the imports, 
 it may here be proper to form a general argument, that 
 may prove the impossibility of this event, so long as we 
 preserve our people and our industry. 
 
 Suppose four-fifths of all the money in Great Britain to 
 be annihilated in one night, and the nation reduced to the 
 same condition, with regard to specie, as in the reigns of
 
 310 ESSAY V, 
 
 the Harrys and Edwards, what would be the consequence ? 
 Must not the price of all labour and commodities sink in 
 proportion, and every thing be sold as cheap as they were 
 in those ages? What nation could then dispute with us in 
 any foreign market, or pretend to navigate or to sell ma- 
 nufactures at the same price, which to us would afford suf- 
 ficient profit? In how little time, therefore, must this bring 
 back the money which he had lost, and raise us to the le- 
 vel of all the neighbouring nations? where, after we have 
 arrived, we immediately lose the advantage of the cheap- 
 ness of labour and commodities; and the farther flowing 
 in of money is stopped by our fulness and repletion. 
 
 Again, suppose that all the money of Great Britain 
 were multiplied fivefold in a night, must not the contrary 
 effect follow ? Must not all labour and commodities rise to 
 such an exorbitant height, that no neighbouring nations 
 could afford to buy from us ; while their commodities, on 
 the other hand, became comparatively so cheap, that* in 
 spite of all the laws which could be formed, they would be 
 run in upon us, and our money flow out ; till we fall to a 
 level with foreigners, and lose that great superiority of 
 riches, which had laid us under such disadvantages? 
 
 Now, it is evident, that the same causes which would 
 correct these exorbitant inequalities, were they to happen 
 miraculously, must prevent their happening in the com- 
 mon course of nature, and must for ever, in all neighbour- 
 ing nations, preserve money nearly proportionable to the 
 art and industry of each nation. All water, wherever it 
 communicates, remains always at a level. Ask naturalists 
 the reason ; they tell you, that, were it to be raised in any 
 one place, the superior gravity of that part not being ba- 
 lanced, must depress it, till it meets a counterpoise ; and 
 that the same cause, which redresses the inequality when
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 311 
 
 it happens, must for ever prevent it, without some violent 
 external operation a . 
 
 Can one imagine, that it had ever been possible, by any 
 laws, or even by any art or industry, to have kept all the 
 money in Spain, which the galleons have brought from 
 the Indies ? Or that all commodities could be sold in 
 France for a tenth of the price which they would yield on 
 the other side of the Pyrenees, without rinding their way 
 thither, and draining from that immense treasure ? What 
 other reason, indeed, is there, why all nations, at present, 
 gain in their trade with Spain and Portugal •, but because 
 it is impossible to heap up money, more than any fluid, 
 beyond its proper level ? The sovereigns of these countries 
 have shewn, that they wanted not inclination to keep their 
 gold and silver to themselves, had it been in any degree 
 practicable. 
 
 But as any body of water may be raised above the level 
 of the surrounding element, if the former has no commu- 
 nication with the latter; so in money if the communication 
 be cut off, by any material or physical impediment (for all 
 laws alone are ineffectual), there may, in such a case, be a 
 very great inequality of money. Thus the immense dis- 
 tance of China, together with the monopolies of our India 
 companies, obstructing the communication, preserve in 
 Europe the gold and silver, especially the latter, in much 
 greater plenty than they are found in that kingdom. But, 
 notwithstanding this great obstruction, the force of the 
 
 a There is another cause, though more limited in its operation, which 
 checks the wrong balance of trade, to every particular nation to which the 
 kingdom trades. When we import more goods than we export, the exchange 
 turns against us, aiyl this becomes a new encouragement to export ; as much 
 as the charge of carriage and insurance of the money which becomes due 
 would amount to. Tor the exchange can never rise but a little higher than 
 the sum.
 
 312 ESSAY V. 
 
 causes above mentioned is stil] evident. The skill and in- 
 genuity of Europe in general surpasses perhaps that of 
 China, with regard to manual arts and manufactures, yet 
 are we never able to trade thither without great disadvan- 
 tage. And were it not for the continued recruits which 
 we receive from America, money would soon sink in Eu- 
 rope, and rise in China, till it came nearly to a level in 
 both places. Nor can any reasonable man doubt, but that 
 industrious nation, were they as near us as Poland or 
 Barbary, would drain us of the overplus of our specie, and 
 draw to themselves a larger share of the West India trea- 
 sures. We need not have recourse to a physical attraction, 
 in order to explain the necessity of this operation. There 
 is a moral attraction, arising from the interests and pas- 
 sions of men, which is full as potent and infallible. 
 
 How is the balance kept in the provinces of every king- 
 dom among themselves, but by the force of this principle., 
 which makes it impossible for money to lose its level, and 
 either to rise or sink beyond the proportion of the labour 
 and commodities which are in each province ? Did not 
 long experience make people easy on this head, what a 
 fund of gloomy reflections might calculations afford to a 
 melancholy Yorkshireman, while he computed and mag- 
 nified the sums drawn to London by taxes, absentees, 
 commodities, and found on comparison the opposite arti- 
 cles so much inferior ? And no doubt, had the Heptarchy 
 subsisted in England, the legislature of each state had been 
 continually alarmed by the fear of a wrong balance ; and 
 as it is probable that the mutual hatred of these states 
 would have been extremely violent on account of their close 
 neighbourhood, they would have loacied and oppressed all 
 commerce, by a jealous and superfluous caution. Since 
 the union has removed the barriers between Scotland and
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 313 
 
 England, which of these nations gains from the other by 
 this free commerce ? Or if the former kingdom has re^ 
 ceived any increase of riches, can it reasonably be account- 
 ed for by any thing but the increase of its art and indus- 
 try ■ It was a common apprehension in England, before 
 the Union, as we learn from L'Abbe du Bois 1 , that Scot- 
 land would soon drain them of their treasure, were an open 
 trade allowed ; and on the other side of the Tweed a con- 
 trary apprehension prevailed : With what justice in both 
 time has shewn. 
 
 What happens in small portions of mankind must take 
 place in greater. The provinces of the Roman empire, no 
 doubt, kept their balance with each other, and with Italy, 
 independent of the legislature : as much as the several coun- 
 ties of Great Britain, or the several parishes of each coun- 
 ty. And any man who travels over Europe at this day, 
 may see, by the prices of commodities, that money, in spite 
 of the absurd jealousy of princes and states, has brought it- 
 self nearly to a level; and that the difference between one 
 kingdom and another is not greater in this respect, than it 
 is often between different provinces of the same kingdom. 
 Men naturally flock to capital cities, sea ports, and navi- 
 gable rivers. There we find more men, more industry, 
 more commodities, and consequently more money; but still 
 the litter difference holds proportion with the former, and 
 the level is preserved b . 
 
 Our jealousy and our hatred of France are without 
 bounds; and the former sentiment, at least, must be ac- 
 knowledged reasonable and well-grounded. These pas- 
 sions have occasioned innumerable barriers and obstruc- 
 
 * Les Interets <T Angleterre mal enlendus-. 
 h See Note [R.]
 
 yii ESSAY V. 
 
 tions upon commerce, where we are accused of being com- 
 monly the aggressors. But what have we gained by the 
 bargain ? We lost the French market for our woollen ma- 
 nufactures, and transferred the commerce of wine to Spain 
 and Portugal, where we buy worse liquor at a higher price. 
 There are few Englishmen who would not think their coun- 
 try absolutely ruined, were French wines sold in England 
 so cheap and in such abundance as to supplant, in some 
 measure, all ale and home-brewed liquors : But would we 
 lay aside prejudice, it would not be difficult to prove, that 
 nothing could be more innocent, perhaps advantageous. 
 Each new acre of vineyard planted in France, in order to 
 supply England with wine, would make it requisite for the 
 French to take the produce of an English acre, sown in 
 wheat or barley, in order to subsist themselves ; and it is 
 evident that we should thereby get command of the better 
 commodity. 
 
 There are many edicts of the French king, prohibiting 
 the planting of new vineyards, and ordering all those which 
 are lately planted to be grubbed up : So sensible are they, 
 in that country, of the superior value of corn above every 
 other product. 
 
 Mareschal Vauban complains often, and with reason, of 
 the absurd duties which load the entry of those wines of 
 Languedoc, Guienne, and other southern provinces, that, 
 are imported into Britanny and Normandy. lie enter- 
 tained no doubt but these latter provinces could preserve 
 their balance, notwithstanding the open commerce which 
 he recommends. And it is evident, that a few leagues 
 more navigation to England would make no difference ; or 
 if it did, that it must operate alike on the commodities of 
 both kingdoms. 
 
 There is indeed one expedient by which it is possible to
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 31 J 
 
 sink, and another by which we may raise money beyond 
 its natural level in any kingdom ; but these cases, when 
 examined, will be found to resolve into our general theory, 
 and to bring additional authority to it. 
 
 I scarcely know any method of sinking money below its 
 level, but those institutions of banks, funds, and paper cre- 
 dit, which are so much practised in this kingdom. These 
 render paper equivalent to money, circulate it throughout 
 the whole state, make it supply the place of gold and sil- 
 ver, raise proportionably the price of labour and commo- 
 dities, and by that means either banish a great part of those 
 precious metals, or prevent their farther increase. What 
 can be more short-sighted than our reasonings on this 
 head ? We fancy, because an individual would be much 
 richer, were his stock of money doubled, that the same 
 good effect would follow were the money of every one in- 
 creased ; not considering that this would raise as much the 
 price of every commodity, and reduce every man in time 
 to the same condition as before. It is only in our public 
 negociations and transactions with foreigners, that a greater 
 stock of money is advantageous ; and as our paper is there 
 absolutely insignificant, we feel, by its means, all the ef- 
 fects arising from a great abundance of money, without 
 reaping any of the advantages a. 
 
 Suppose that there are 12 millions of paper, which cir- 
 culate in the kingdom as money (for we are not to imagine 
 that all our enormous funds are employed in that shape), 
 and suppose the real cash of the kingdom to be 18 millions : 
 
 a We observed in Essay II I. that money, when increasing, gives encou- 
 ragement to industry, during the intervals between the increase of money and 
 rise of the prices. A good effect of this nature may follow too from paper 
 credit ; but it is dangerous to precipitate matters at. the risk of losing ail by 
 the failing of that credit, as niiu>t happen upon any violent shock in public 
 affairs,
 
 320 ESSAY V. 
 
 Here is a state which is found by experience to be able to 
 hold a stock of 30 millions. I say, if it be able to hold it, 
 it must of necessity have acquired it in gold and silver, had 
 we not obstructed the entrance of these metals by this new 
 invention of paper. Whence would it have acquired that 
 sum ? From all the kingdoms of the world. But why ? 
 Because, if you remove these 12 millions, money in this 
 state is below its level, compared with our neighbours ; and 
 we must immediately draw from all of them, till we be full 
 and saturate, so to speak, and can hold no more. By our 
 present politics, we are as careful to stuff the nation with 
 this fine commodity of bank-bills and chequer notes, as if 
 we were afraid of being overburdened with the precious 
 metals. 
 
 It is not to be doubted, but the great plenty of bullion 
 in France is, in a great measure, owing to the want of pa- 
 per-credit. The French have no banks : Merchants' bills 
 do not there circulate as with us : Usury, or lending on 
 interest, is not directly permitted ; so that many have large 
 sums in their coffers : Great quantities of plate are used in 
 private houses ; and all the churches are full of it. By 
 this means, provisions and labour still remain cheaper a- 
 mong them, than in nations that are not half so rich in 
 gold and silver. The advantages of this situation, in point 
 of trade, as well as in great public emergencies, are too evi- 
 dent to be disputed. 
 
 The same fashion a few years ago prevailed in Genoa, 
 which still has place in England and Holland, of using ser- 
 vices of China-ware instead of plate; but the senate, fore- 
 seeing the consequence, prohibited the use of that brittle 
 commodity beyond a certain extent; while the use of sil- 
 ver-plate was left unlimited. And I suppose, in their late
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 317 
 
 distresses, they felt the good effect of this ordinance. Our 
 tax on plate is, perhaps, in this view, somewhat impolitic. 
 
 Before the introduction of paper-money into our colo- 
 nies, they had gold and silver sufficient for their circula- 
 tion. Since the introduction of that commodity, the least 
 inconveniency that has followed is the total banishment of 
 the precious metals. And after the abolition of paper, 
 can it be doubted but money will return, while these colo- 
 nies possess manufactures and commodities, the only thing 
 valuable in commerce, and for whose sake alone all men 
 desire money? 
 
 What pity Lycurgus did not thing of paper-credit, when 
 he wanted to banish gold and silver from Sparta ! It would 
 have served his purpose better than the lumps of iron he 
 made use of as money; and would also have prevented 
 more effectually all commerce with strangers, as being of 
 so much less real and intrinsic value. 
 
 It must, however, be confessed, that, as all these ques- 
 tions of trade and money are extremely complicated, there 
 are certain lights, in which this subject may be placed, so 
 as to represent the advantages of paper-credit and banks 
 to be superior to their disadvantages. That they banish 
 specie and bullion from a state, is undoubtedly true: and 
 whoever looks no further than this circumstance, does well 
 to condemn them ; but specie and bullion are not of so 
 great consequence as not to admit of a compensation, and 
 even an overbalance from the increase of industry and of 
 credit, which may be promoted by the right use of paper- 
 money. It is well known of what advantage it is to a mer- 
 chant to be able to discount his bills upon occasion : and 
 every thing that facilitates this species of traffic is favour- 
 able to the general commerce of a state. But private bank- 
 ers are enabled to give such credit by the credit they re-
 
 31<S ESSAY V. 
 
 cc-ive from the depositing of money in their shops ; and 
 the bank of England in the same manner, from the liberty 
 it lias to issue its notes in all payments. There was an in- 
 vention of this kind, which was fallen upon some years ago 
 by the banks of Edinburgh ; and which, as it is one of the 
 mo^t ingenious ideas that, has been executed in commerce, 
 has also been thought advantageous to .Scotland. It is 
 there called a Bank- Credit; aud is of this nature. A 
 man goes to the bank and finds surety to the amount, we 
 shall suppose, of a thousand pounds. This money, or any 
 part of it, he has the liberty of drawing out whenever he 
 pleases, and he pays only the ordinary interest for it while 
 it is in his hands. He may, when he pleases, repay any 
 sum so small as twenty pounds, and the interest is discount- 
 ed from the very day of the repayment. The advantages 
 resulting from this contrivance are manifolds As a man. 
 may find surety nearly to the amount of his substance, and 
 his bank credit is equivalent to ready money, a merchant 
 does hereby in a manner coin his houses, his household- 
 furniture, the goods in his warehouse, the foreign debts 
 due to him, his ships at sea ; and can, upon occasion, em- 
 ploy them in all payments, as if they were the current mo- 
 ney of the country- If a man borrow a thousand pounds 
 from a private hand, besides that it is not always to be 
 found when required, he pays interest for it, whether lie 
 be usinjr it or not : His bank-credit costs him nothing ex- 
 cept during the very moment in which it is of service to 
 him : And this circumstance is of equal advantage as if he 
 had borrowed money at much lower interest. Merchants, 
 likewise, from this invention acquire a great facility in 
 supporting each other's credit, which is a considerable se- 
 curity against bankruptcies. A man, when his own bank- 
 Li'pdit is exhausted, goes to any of his neighbours who is
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 319 
 
 not in the same condition ; and he gets the money, which 
 he replaces at his convenience. 
 
 After this practice had taken place during some years 
 at Edinburgh, several companies of merchants at Glasgow 
 carried the matter farther. They associated themselves 
 into different banks, and issued notes so low as ten shil- 
 lings, which they used in all payments for goods, manu- 
 factures, tradesmen's labour of all kinds ; and these notes, 
 from the established credit of the companies, passed as 
 money in all payments throughout the country. By this 
 means, a stock of five thousand pounds was able to perform 
 the same operations as if it were six or seven ; and mer- 
 chants were thereby enabled to trade to a greater extent, / 
 and to require less profit in all their transactions. But 
 whatever other advantages result from these inventions, it 
 must still be allowed that besides giving too great facility 
 to credit, which is dangerous, they banish the precious me- 
 tals; and nothing can be a more evident proof of it, than 
 a comparison of the past and present condition of Scot- 
 land in that particular. It was found, upon the recoinage 
 made after the Union, that there was near a million of spe- 
 cie in that country : But notwithstanding the great increase 
 of riches, commerce, and manutacturcs of all kinds, it is 
 thought that, even where there is no extraordinary drain 
 made by England, the current specie will not now amount 
 to a third of that sum. 
 
 But as our projects of paper-credit are almost the onlv 
 expedient by which we can sink money below its level ; 
 so, in my opinion, the only expedient, by which we can 
 raise money above it, is a practice which we should all ex- 
 claim against as destructive, namely, the gathering of large 
 sums into a public treasure, locking them up, and abso- 
 lutely preventing their circulation. The fluid, not com-
 
 320 ESSAY V. 
 
 municating with the neighbouring element, may, by such 
 an artifice, be raised to what height we please. To prove 
 this, we need only return to our first supposition, of anni- 
 hilating the half or any part of our cash ; where we found, 
 that the immediate consequence of such an event would be 
 the attraction of an equal sum from all the neighbouring 
 kingdoms. Nor does there seem to be any necessary 
 bounds set, by the nature of things, to this practice of 
 hoarding. A small city, like Geneva, continuing this po- 
 licy for ages, might engross nine-tenths of the money in 
 Europe. There seems, indeed, in the nature of man, an 
 invincible obstacle to that immense growth of riches. A 
 weak state, with an enormous treasure, will soon become 
 a prey to some of its poorer, but more powerful neighbours. 
 A treat state would dissipate its wealth in dangerous and 
 ill-concerted projects ; and probably destroy, with it, what 
 is much more valuable, the industry, morals, and numbers 
 of its people. The fluid, in this case, raised to too great 
 a height, bursts and destroys the vessel that contains it ; 
 and mixing itself with the surrounding elements, soon falls 
 to its proper level. 
 
 So little are we commonly acquainted with this princi- 
 ple, that, though all historians agree in relating uniformly 
 so recent an event, as the immense treasure amassed by 
 Harry VII. (which they make amount to 2,700,000 
 pounds) we rather reject their concurring testimony, than 
 admit of a fact, which agrees so ill with our inveterate pre- 
 judices. It is indeed probable, that this sum might be 
 three- fourths of all the money in England. But where is 
 the difficulty in conceiving, that such a sum might be a- 
 massed in twenty years, by a cunning, rapacious, frugal, 
 and almost absolute monarch ? Nor is it probable, that the 
 diminution of circulating money was ever sensibly felt by
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 321 
 
 the people, or ever did them any prejudice. The sinking 
 of the prices of all commodities would immediately replace 
 it, by giving England the advantage in its commerce with 
 the neighbouring kingdoms. 
 
 Have we not an instance in the small republic of Athens 
 with its allies, who, in about fifty years, between the Me- 
 dian and Peloponnesian wars, amassed a sum not much 
 inferior to that of Harry VII. ? For all the Greek his- 
 torians 2 and orators 5 agree, that the Athenians collected 
 in the citadel more than 10,000 talents, which they after- 
 wards dissipated to their own ruin, in rash and imprudent 
 elite" prises. But when this money was set a-running, 
 and began to communicate with the surrounding fluid, 
 what wis the consequence? Did it remain in the state? 
 No- For we find, by the memorable census mentioned bv 
 Der.iostl.enes c and Polybius d , that, in about fitly years 
 aftei wauls, the whole vaiue of the republic, comprehend- 
 ing lands, houses, commodities, slaves, and money, was 
 less than G000 talents. 
 
 What an ambitious high-spirited people was this, to 
 collect and keep in their treasury, with a view to conquests, 
 a sum, which it was every day in the power of the citizens, 
 by a single vote, to distribute among themselves, and which 
 would have gone near to triple the riches of every indivi- 
 dual ! For we must observe, that the numbers and pri- 
 vate riches of the Athenians are said, by ancient writers, 
 to have been no greater at the beginning of the Peiopon- 
 nesian war, than at the beginning of the Macedonian. 
 
 Money was little more plentiful in Greece during the 
 age of Philip and Perseus, than in England during thatcf 
 
 " Thucydides, lib ii. and Diod. Sic. lib. xii. 
 
 b Vid. /Eschinis et Demosthunis Ejiist. 
 
 c TIi pi Xvpnoptzf. d Lib. ii. cap. 62. 
 
 VOL. I. V
 
 322 essay v. 
 
 Harry VII. : Yet these two monarchs in thirty years * col- 
 lected from the small kingdom of Macedon, a iargei trea- 
 sure than that of the English monarch. Paulus iEmiiius 
 brought to Rome about 1,700,000 pounds Sterling b . Piiny 
 says, 2,400,000 c . And that was but a part of the Ma- 
 cedonian treasure. The rest was dissipated by the resis- 
 tance and flight of Perseus d . 
 
 We may learn from Stanian, that the canton of Berne 
 had 300,000 pounds lent at interest, and had about six 
 times as much in their treasury. Here then is a sum 
 hoarded of 1,800,000 pounds Sterling, which is at kast 
 quadruple what should naturally circulate in such a petty 
 state ; and yet no one, who travels in the Pais de Vaux, 
 or any part of that canton, observes any want of money 
 more than could be supposed in a country of that extent, 
 soil, and situation. On the contrary, there are scarce any 
 inland provinces in the continent of France or Germany, 
 where the inhabitants are at this time so opulent, though 
 that canton has vastly increased its treasure since 17 14-, 
 the time when Stanian wrote his judicious account of Swit- 
 zerland e . 
 
 The account given by Appian f of the treasure of the 
 Ptolemies, is so prodigious, that one cannot admit of it; 
 and so much the less, because the historian says, that the 
 other successors of Alexander were also frugal, and had 
 many of them treasures not much inferior. For this sa- 
 ving humour of the neighbouring princes must necessarily 
 have checked the frugality of the Egyptian monarchs, ac- 
 
 » Titi Livii, lib. xlv. cap. 40. b Vcl Patcre. lib. i. cap. 9. 
 
 8 Lib. xxxiii. cap. 5. J Titi Livii. ibid 
 
 e The poverty which Stanian speaks of is only to be seen in the most 
 mountainous cantons, where there is no commodity to bring money And 
 even there the people are not poorer than iu the diocese of Saltsburg on thf 
 one hand, or Savoy on the other. f Proem.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 323 
 
 cording to the foregoing theory. The sum he mentions is 
 740,000 talents, or 191,166,666 pounds 13 shillings and 
 4 pence, according to Dr Arbuthnot's computation. And 
 yet Appian says, that he extracted his account from the 
 public records ; and he was himself a native of Alexandria. 
 
 From these principles we may learn what judgment we 
 ought to form of those numberless bars, obstructions, and 
 imposts, which all nations of Europe, and none more than 
 England, have put upon trade ; from an exorbitant desire 
 of amassing money, which never will heap up beyond its 
 level, while it circulates; or from an ill-grounded appre- 
 hension of losing their specie, which never will sink below 
 it. Could any thing scatter our riches, it would be such 
 impolitic contrivances. But this general ill effect, how- 
 ever, results from them, that they deprive neighbouring 
 nations of that free communication and exchange which 
 the Author of the world has intended, by giving them soils, 
 climates, and geniuses, so different from each other. 
 
 Our modem politics embrace the only method of ba- 
 nishing money, the using of paper-credit ; they reject the 
 only method of amassing it, the practice of hoarding; and 
 they adopt a hundred contrivances, which serve to no pur- 
 pose but to check industry, and to rob ourselves and our 
 neighbours of the common benefits of art and nature. 
 
 All taxes, however, upon foreign commodities, are not 
 to be regarded as prejudicial or useless, but those only 
 which are founded on the jealousy above mentioned. A 
 tax on German linen encourages home manufactures, and 
 thereby multiplies our people and industry. A tax on 
 brandy increases the sale of rum, and supports our south- 
 ern colonies. And as it is necessary that imposts should 
 be levied for the support of government, it may be thought 
 more convenient to lay them on foreign commodities,
 
 321 ESSAY V. 
 
 which can easily be intercepted at the port, and subjected 
 to the impost. We ought, however, always to remember 
 the maxim of Dr Swift, That, in the arithmetic of the cus- 
 toms, two and two make not four, but often make only 
 one. It can scarcely be doubted, but if the duties on wine 
 were lowered to a third, they would yield much more to 
 the government than at present : Our people might there- 
 by afford to drink commonly a better and more wholesome 
 liquor ; and no prejudice would ensue to the balance of 
 trade, of which we are so jealous. The manufacture of ale 
 beyond the agriculture is but inconsiderable, and gives em- 
 ployment to tew hands. The transport of wine and corn 
 would not be much inferior. 
 
 But are there not frequent instances, you will say, of 
 states and kingdoms, which were formerly rich and opu- 
 lent, and are now poor and beggarly ? Has not the money 
 left them, with which they formerly abounded ? I answer, 
 If they lose their trade, industry, and people, they cannot 
 expect to keep their gold and silver : For these precious 
 metals will hold proportion to the former advantages. 
 When Lisbon and Amsterdam got the East India trade 
 from Venice and Genoa, they also got the profits and mo- 
 ney which arose from it. Where the seat of government 
 is transferred, where expensive armies are maintained at a 
 distance, where great funds are possessed by foreigners; 
 there naturally follows from these causes a diminution of 
 the specie. But these, we may observe, are violent and 
 forcible methods of carrying away money, and are in time 
 commonly attended with the transport of people and in- 
 dustry. But where these remain, and the drain is not con- 
 tinued, the money always finds its way back again, by a 
 hundred canals, of which we have no notion or suspicion. 
 What immense treasures have been spent, by so many na-
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 325 
 
 tions, in Flanders, since the Revolution, in the course of 
 three long wars? More money perhaps than the half of 
 what is at present in Europe. But what has now become 
 of it ? Is it in the narrow compass of the Austrian pro- 
 vinces ? No, surely : It has most of it returned to the se- 
 veral countries whence it came, and has followed that art 
 and industry by which at first it was acquired. For above 
 a thousand years, the money of Europe has been flowing 
 to Rome, by an open and sensible current; but it has been 
 emptied by many secret and insensible canals : And the 
 want of industry and commerce renders at present the pa- 
 pal dominions the poorest territory in all Italy. 
 
 In short, a government has great reason to preserve 
 with care its people and its manufactures. Its money, it 
 may safely trust to the course of human affairs, without 
 fear or jealousy. Or, if it ever give attention to this latter 
 circumstance, it ought only to be so far as it affects the 
 former.
 
 ESSAY VI. 
 
 OF THE JEALOUSY OF TKADE. 
 
 XXaVing endeavoured to remove one species of ill-founded 
 jealousy, which is so prevalent among commercial nations, 
 it may not be amiss to mention another, which seems 
 equally groundless. Nothing is more usual, among states 
 which have made some advances in commerce, than to look 
 on the progress of their neighbours with a suspicious rye, 
 to consider all trading states as their rivals, and to suppose 
 that it is impossible for any of them to flourish, but at their 
 expencc. In opposition to this narrow and malignant 
 opinion, I will venture to assert, that the increase of riches 
 and commerce in any one nation, instead of hurting, com- 
 monly promotes the riches and commerce of all its neigh- 
 bours; and that a state can scarcely carry its trade and 
 industry very far, where all the surrounding states are bu- 
 ried in ignorance, sloth and barbarism. 
 
 It is obvious, that the domestic industry of a people can- 
 not be hurt by the greatest prosperity of their neighbours; 
 and as this branch of commerce is undoubtedly the most 
 important in any extensive kingdom, we are so far re- 
 moved from all reason of jealousy. But I go farther, and 
 observe, that where an open communication is preserved 
 among nations, it is impossible but the domestic, industry 
 of every one must receive an increase from the improve-
 
 OT" THE JEALOUSY OF TRADE. 327 
 
 ments of the others. Compare the situation of Great Bri- 
 tain at present, with what it was two centuries ago. All 
 the arts, both of agriculture and manufactures, were then 
 extremely rude and imperfect. Every improvement, which 
 we have since made, has arisen from our imitation of fo- 
 reigners ; and we ought so far to esteem it happy, that 
 they had previously made advances in arts and ingenuity. 
 But this intercourse is still upheld to our advantage : Not- 
 withstanding the advanced state of our manufactures, we 
 daily adopt, in every art, the inventions and improvements 
 of our neighbours. The commodity is first imported from 
 abroad, to our great discontent, while we imagine that it 
 drains us of our money: Afterwards, the art itself is gra- 
 dually imported, to our visible advantage : Yet we conti- 
 nue still to repine, that our neighbours should possess any 
 art, industry, and invention ; forgetting that, had they not 
 fust instructed us, we should have been at present barba- 
 rians ; and did they not still continue their instructions, 
 the arts must fall into a state of languor, and lose that 
 emulation and novelty which contribute so much to their 
 advancement. 
 
 The increase of domestic industry lays the foundation of 
 foreign commerce. Where a great number of commodi- 
 ties are raised and perfected for the home market, there 
 will always be found some which can be exported with ad- 
 vantage. But if our neighbours have no art or cultivation, 
 they cannot take them ; because they will have nothing to 
 give in exchange. In this respect, states are in the same 
 condition as individuals. A single man can scarcely be in- 
 dustrious, where all his fellow-citizens are idle. The riches 
 of the several members of a community contribute to in- 
 crease my riches, whatever profession 1 may follow. They
 
 328 ESSAY VI. 
 
 consume the produce of my industry, and afford me the 
 produce ot theirs in return. 
 
 Nor needs any state entertain apprehensions, that their 
 neighbours will improve to such a degree in every art and 
 manufacture, as to have no demand from them. Nature, 
 by giving a diversity of geniuses, climates, and soils to dif- 
 ferent nations, has secured their mutual intercourse and 
 commerce, as long as they all remain industrious and ci- 
 vilized. Nay, the more the arts increase in any state, the 
 more will be its demands from its industrious neighbours. 
 The inhabitants, having become opulent and skilful, desire 
 to have every commodity in the utmost perfection ; and as 
 they have plenty of commodities to give in exchange, they 
 make large importations from every foreign country. The 
 industry of the nations, from whom they import, receives 
 encouragement : Their own is also increased, by the sale 
 of the commodities which they give in exchange. 
 
 But what if a nation has any staple commodity, such as 
 the woollen manufacture is in England ? Must not the in- 
 terfering of our neighbours in that manufacture be a loss 
 to us ? I answer, that, when any commodity is denominated 
 the staple of a kingdom, it is supposed that this kingdom 
 has some peculiar and natural advantages for raising the 
 commodity ; and if, notwithstanding these advantages, they 
 lose such a manufacture, they ought to blame- their own 
 idleness or bad government, not the industry of their neigh- 
 bours. It ought also to be considered, that, by the in- 
 crease of industrv among the neighbouring nations, the 
 consumption of every particular species of commodity is 
 aisu increased; and though foreign manufactures interfere 
 with them in the market, the demand for their product 
 may still continue, or even increase. And should it dimi- 
 nish, ought the consequence to be esteemed so fatal ? If
 
 OF THE JEALOUSY OF TRADE. 329 
 
 the spirit of industry be preserved, it may easily be diverted 
 from one branch to another; and the manufacturers of 
 wool, for instance, be employed in linen, silk, iron, or any 
 otlv ; ■ ommodities for which there appears to be a demand. 
 We need not apprehend, tnat all the objects of industry 
 will be exhausted, or that our manufacturers, while they 
 remain on an equal footing with those of our neighbours, 
 will ue in danger of wanting employment. The emulation 
 among rival nations serves rather to keep industry alive 
 in all of them : And any people is happier who possess a 
 variety of manufactures, than if they enjoyed one single 
 gre^t manufacture, in which they are all employed. Their 
 situation is less precarious ; and they will feel less sensibly 
 those revolutions and uncertainties, to which every parti- 
 cular branch of commerce will always be exposed. 
 
 The only commercial state that ought to dread the im- 
 provements and industry of their neighbours, is such a one 
 as the Dutch, who, enjoying no extent of land, nor pos- 
 seting any number of native commodities, flourish only by 
 their being the brokers, and factors, and carriers of others. 
 Such a people may naturally apprehend, that as soon as 
 the neighbouring states come to know and pursue their in- 
 terest, they will take into their own hands the management 
 of their affairs, and deprive their brokers of that profit 
 winch they formerly reaped from it. But though this con- 
 sequence may naturally be dreaded, it is very long before 
 it takes place: and by art and industry it may be warded 
 off for many generations, if not wholly eluded. The ad- 
 vantage of superior stocks and correspondence is so great, 
 that it is not easily overcome; and as all the transactions 
 increase by the increase of industry in the neighbouring 
 states, even a people whose commerce stands on this pre- 
 carious basis, may at first reap a considerable profit from
 
 330 ESSAY VI. 
 
 the flourishing condition of their neighbours. The Dutch, 
 having mortgaged all their revenues, make not such a figure 
 in political transaction? as formerly ; but their commerce 
 is surely equal to what it was in the middle of the last cen- 
 tury, when they were reckoned among the great powers of 
 Europe. 
 
 Were our narrow and malignant politics to meet with 
 success, we should reduce all our neighbouring nations to 
 the same state of sloth and ignorance that prevails in Mo- 
 rocco and the coast of Barbary. But what would be the 
 consequence ? They could send us no commodities : They 
 could take none from us: Our domestic commerce itself 
 would languish for want of emulation, example, and in- 
 struction : And we ourselves should soon fall into the ?ame 
 abject condition, to which we had reduced them. I shall 
 therefore venture to acknowledge, that, not only as a man, 
 but as a British subject, 1 pray for the flourishing com- 
 merce of Germany, Spain, Italy, and even Fiance itself. 
 I am at least certain that Great Britain, and all those na- 
 tions, would flourish more, did their sovereigns and mini- 
 sters adopt such enlarged and benevolent sentiments to- 
 wards each other.
 
 ESSAY VII. 
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 
 
 It is a question, whether the idea of the balance of power 
 be owing entirely to modern policy, or whether the phrase 
 only has been invented in the later ages ? It is certain 
 that Xenophon a , in his Institution of Cyrus, represents the 
 combination of the Asiatic powers to have arisen from a 
 jealousy of the increasing force of the Medes and Persians ; 
 and though that eiegant composition should be supposed 
 altogether a romance, this sentiment, ascribed by the au- 
 thor to the Eastern princes, is at least a proof of the pre- 
 vailing notion of ancient times. 
 
 In all the politics of Greece, the anxiety, with regard to 
 the balance of power, is apparent, and is expressly pointed 
 out to us, even by the ancient historians. Thucydides b 
 represents the league which was formed against Athens, 
 and which produced the Peloponnesian war, as entirely 
 owing to this principle. And after the decline of Athens, 
 when the Thebans and Lacedemonians disputed for sove- 
 reignty, we find that the Athenians (as well as many other 
 republics) always threw themselves into the lighter scale, 
 and endeavoured to preserve the balance. They support- 
 ed Thebes against Sparta, till the great victory gained by 
 Epaminondas at Leuctra; after which they immediately- 
 
 ' Lib. i. » Lib. f.
 
 332 ESSAY VII. 
 
 went over to the conquered, from generosity, as they pre- 
 tended, but in reality from their jealousy of the conque- 
 rors a . 
 
 Whoever will read Demosthenes's oration for the Me- 
 galopolitans, may see the utmost refinements on this prin- 
 ciple that ever entered into the head of a Venetian or Eng- 
 lish speculatist. And upon the first rise of the Macedo- 
 nian power, this orator immediately discovered the danger, 
 sounded the alarm throughout all Greece, and at last as- 
 sembled that confederacy under the banners of Athens 
 which fought the great and decisive battle of Chaeronea. 
 
 It is true, the Grecian wars are regarded by historians 
 as wars of emulation rather than of politics ; and each state 
 seems to have had more in view the honour of leading the 
 rest, than any well-grounded hopes of authority and domi- 
 nion. If we consider, indeed, the small number of inha- 
 bitants in any one republic, compared to the whole, the 
 great difficulty of forming sieges in those times, and the 
 extraordinary bravery and discipline of every freeman a- 
 mong that noble people ; we shall conclude, that the ba- 
 lance of power was, of itself, sufficiently secured in Greece, 
 and need not to have been guarded with that caution which 
 may be requisite in other ages. But whether we ascribe 
 the shifting of sides in all the Grecian republics to jealous 
 emulation or cautious politics, the effects were alike, and 
 every prevailing power was sure to meet with a confede- 
 racy against it, and that often composed of its former 
 friends and allies. 
 
 The same principle, call it envy or prudence, which 
 produced the Ostracism of Athens, and Petalism of Syra- 
 cuse, and expelled every citizen whose fame or power over* 
 
 * Xenoph. Hist. Grac. lib. vi, and vii.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF POWEK. 333 
 
 topped the rest ; the same principle, I say, naturally dis- 
 covered itself to foreign politics, and soon raised enemies 
 to the leading state, however moderate in the exercise of 
 its authority. 
 
 The Persian monarch was really, in his force, a petty 
 prince compared to the Grecian republics; and therefore, 
 it behoved him, from views of safety more than from emu- 
 lation, to interest himself in their quarrels, and to support 
 the weaker side in every contest. This was the advice 
 given by Alcibiades to Tissaphernes a , and it prolonged, 
 near a century, the date of the Persian empire ; till the 
 neglect of it for a moment, after the first appearance of 
 the aspiring genius of Philip, brought that lofty and frail 
 edifice to the ground, with a rapidity of which there are 
 few instances in the history of mankind. 
 
 The successors of Alexander showed great jealousy of 
 the balance of power; a jealousy founded on true politics- 
 and prudence, and which preserved distinct for several ages 
 the partition made after the death of that famous conque- 
 ror. The fortune and ambition of Antigonus- b threaten- 
 ed them anew with a universal monarchy ; but their com- 
 bination, and their victory at Ipsus, saved them. And in 
 subsequent times, we find, that, as the Eastern princes 
 considered the Greeks and Macedonians as the onlv real 
 military force with whom they had any intercourse, they 
 kept always a watchful eye over that part of the world. 
 The Ptolemies, in particular, supported first Aratus and 
 the Acha^ans, and then Cleomenes king of Sparta, from no 
 other view than as a counterbalance to the Macedonian 
 monarchs. For this is the account which Polvbius <yhe^ 
 of the Egyptian politics c . 
 
 * TLncyd. lib. viiu * Diod. Sic, lib. xx. Q Lib. li. cap. 51 ,
 
 334; ESSAY VII. 
 
 The reason why it is supposed that the ancients were 
 entirely ignorant of the balance of power, seems to be < irawn 
 from the Roman history more than the Grecian : and as 
 the transactions of tiie former are generally more iamiliar 
 to us, we have thence formed all our conclusions. It must 
 be owned, that the Romans never met with any such gene- 
 ral combination or confederacy against them, as might na- 
 turally have been expected for their rapid conquests and 
 declared ambition, but were allowed peaceably to subdue 
 their neighbours, one after another, till the) extended their 
 dominion over the whole known world. Nut tr> mention 
 the fabulous history of the Italic wars, there was, upon 
 Hannibal's invasion of the Roman state, a remarkable cri- 
 sis, which ought to have called up the attention of all civi- 
 lized nations. It appeared afterwards (nor was it difficult 
 to be observed at the time) 3 that this was a contest for uni- 
 versal empire; yet no prince or state seems to have been 
 in the least alarmed about the event or issue of the quar- 
 rel. Philip of Macedon remained neuter, till he saw the 
 victories of Hannibal; and then most imprudently formed 
 an alliance with the conqueror, upon terms still more im- 
 prudent. He stipulated, that he was to assist the Cartha- 
 ginian state in their conquest of Italy -, after which they 
 engaged to send over forces into Greece, to assist him in 
 subduing the Grecian commonwealth b . 
 
 The Rhodian and Achaean republics are much celebra- 
 ted by ancient historians for their wisdom and sound po- 
 licy ; yet both of them assisted the Romans in their wars 
 against Philip and Antiochus. And what may be esteem- 
 ed still a stronger proof, that this maxim was not generally 
 
 a It was observed by some, as appears by the speech of Agesilaus of Nau. 
 pactum, in the general tongrc^.i of Greece See Polyb. lib. v. cap. 10!. 
 k Tit. Livii, lib. xxiii. cap. 3.'^.
 
 OP THE BALANCE OP POWER. 335 
 
 known in those ages, no ancient author has remarked the 
 imprudence of these measures, nor has even blamed that 
 absurd treaty above mentioned, made by Philip with the 
 Carthaginians. Princes and statesmen, in all ages, may, 
 beforehand, be blinded in their reasonings with regard to 
 events : But it is somewhat extraordinary, that historians, 
 afterwards, should not form a sounder judgment of them. 
 
 Massinissa, Attalus, Prusias, in gratifying their private 
 passions, were all of them the instruments of the Itoman 
 greatness, and never seem to have suspected, that they 
 were forging their own chains, while they advanced the 
 conquests of their ally. A simple treaty and agreement 
 between Massinissa and the Carthaginians, so much requi- 
 red by mutual interest, barred the Romans from all en- 
 trance into Africa, and preserved liberty to mankind. 
 
 The only prince we meet with in the Roman history, 
 who seems to have understood the balance of power, is 
 Hiero, king of Syracuse. Though the ally of Rome, he 
 sent assistance to the Carthaginians during the war of the 
 auxiliaries ; " Esteeming it requisite," says Polybius % 
 " both in order to retain his dominions in Sicily, and to 
 " preserve the Roman friendship, that Carthage should 
 '« be safe ; lest by its fall the remaining power should be 
 " able, without control or opposition, to execute every pur- 
 " pose and undertaking. And here he acted with great 
 <c wisdom and prudence : For that is never, on any ac- 
 <c count, to be overlooked ; nor ought such a force ever to 
 " be thrown into one hand, as to incapacitate the neigh- 
 " bouring states from defending their rights against it.'* 
 Here is the aim of modern politics pointed out in express 
 terras. 
 
 a Lib. i. cap. 83.
 
 336 ESSAY VII. 
 
 In short, the maxim of preserving the balance of power 
 is founded so much on common sense and obvious reason- 
 ing, that it is impossible it could altogether have escaped 
 antiquity, where we find, in other particulars, so many 
 marks of deep penetration and discernment. If it was not 
 so generally known and acknowledged as at present, it had 
 at least an influence on all the wiser and more experienced 
 princes and politicians. And indeed, ev n at pre-ent, 
 however generally known and acknowledged among spe- 
 culative reasoners, it has not, in practice, an authority 
 much more extensive among those who govern the world. 
 After the fall of the Roman empire, the form of govern- 
 ment, established by the northern conquerors, incapacita- 
 ted them, in a great measure, for farther conquests, and 
 long maintained each stale in its proper boundaries. But 
 when vassalage and the feudal militia were abolished, man- 
 kind were anew alarmed b} the danger of universal mo- 
 narchy, from the union of so many kingdoms and princi- 
 palities in the person of the Emperor Charles. But the 
 power of the house of Austria, founded on extensive but 
 divided dominions ; and their riches, derived chiefly from 
 mines of gold and silver, were more likely to decas, of 
 themselves, from internal defects, than to overthrow all 
 the bulwarks raised against them. In less than a century, 
 the force of that violent and haughty race was shattered, 
 their opulence dissipated, their spiendour eclipsed. A new 
 power succeeded, more formidable to the liberties of Eu- 
 rope, possessing all the advantages of the former, and la- 
 bouring under none of its defects, except a share of lhat 
 spirit of bigotry and persecution, with which the house of 
 Austria was so long, and still is so much infatuated 
 
 In the general wars maintained asjaiu.-t this ambitious 
 power, Great Britain has stood foremost, and she still
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 337 
 
 maintains her station. Beside her advantages of riches 
 and situation, her people are animated with such a national 
 spirit, and are so fully sensible of the blessings of their 
 government, that we may hope their vigour never will lan- 
 guish in so necessary and so just a cause. On the contrary, 
 if we may judge by the past, their passionate ardour seems 
 rather to require some moderation ; and they have oftener 
 erred from a laudable excess than from a blameable defi- 
 ciency. 
 
 In the^yfr^ place, we seem to have been more possessed 
 with the ancient Greek spirit of jealous emulation, than 
 actuated by the prudent views of modern politics. Our 
 wars with France have been begun with justice, and even 
 perhaps from necessity, but have always been too far push- 
 ed, from obstinacy and passion. The same peace, which 
 was afterwards made at Rysvvick in 1697, was offered so 
 early as the year ninety-two ; that concluded at Utrecht in 
 1712 might have been finished on as good conditions at 
 Gertruytenberg in the year eight ; and we might have gi- 
 ven at Frankfort, in 1743, the same terms which we were 
 glad to accept of at Aix-la-Chapelle in the year forty- 
 eight. Here then we see, that above half of our wars with 
 France, and all our public debts, are owing more to our 
 own imprudent vehemence, than to the ambition of our 
 neighbours. 
 
 In the second place, we are so declared in our opposi- 
 tion to French power, and so alert in defence of our al- 
 lies, that they always reckon upon our force as upon their 
 own ; and expecting to carry on war at our expence, re- 
 fuse all reasonable terms of accommodation. Habent sub- 
 jcctos, tanquam snos ; viles, ut alienos. All the world knows, 
 that the factious vote of the Flouse of Commons, in the 
 beginning of the last parliament, with the professed humour 
 
 VOL. I. 7.
 
 338 ESSAY VII. 
 
 of the nation, made the Queen of Hungary inflexible in 
 her terms, and prevented that agreement with Prussia, 
 which would immediately have restored the general tran- 
 quillity of Europe. 
 
 In the third place, we are such true combatants, that, 
 when once engaged, we lose all concern for ourselves and 
 our posterity, and consider only how we may best annoy 
 the enemy. To mortgage our revenues at so deep a rate 
 in wai's where we were only accessaries, was surely the 
 most fatal delusion that a nation, which had any preten- 
 sions to politics and prudence, has ever yet been guilty of. 
 That remedy of funding, if it be a remedy, and not rather 
 a poison, ought, in all reason, to be reserved to the last 
 extremity ; and no evil, but the greatest and most urgent, 
 should ever induce us to embrace so dangerous an expe- 
 dient. 
 
 These excesses, to which we have been carried, are pre- 
 judicial, and may, perhaps, in time, become still more pre- 
 judicial another way, by begetting, as is usual, the opposite 
 extreme, and rendering us totally careless and supine with 
 regard to the fate of Europe. The Athenians, from the 
 most bustling, intriguing, warlike, people of Greece, find- 
 ing their error in thrusting themselves into every quarrel, 
 abandoned all attention to foreign affairs ; and in no con- 
 test ever took part on either side, except by their flatteries 
 and complaisance to the victor. 
 
 Enormous monarchies are probably destructive to hu- 
 man nature in their progress, in their continuance 1 , and 
 even in their downfal, which never can be very distant 
 from their establishment. The military genius, which 
 
 ■ If the Roman empire was of advantage, it could only proceed from this, 
 that mankind were generally in a very disorderly, uncivilized condition, b<v 
 fere its establishment.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 339 
 
 aggrandized the monarchy, soon leaves the court, the ca- 
 pital and the centre of such a government, while the wars 
 are carried on at a great distance, and interest so small a 
 part of the state. The ancient nobility, whose affections 
 attach them to their sovereign, live all at court, and never 
 will accept of military employments, which would carry 
 them to remote and barbarous frontiers, where they are 
 distant both from their pleasures and their fortune. The 
 arms of the state must therefore be entrusted to mercenary 
 strangers, without zeal, without attachment, without ho- 
 nour, ready on every occasion to turn them against the 
 prince, and join each desperate malcontent who offers pay 
 and plunder. This is the necessary progress of human 
 affairs. Thus human nature checks itself in its airy ele- 
 vation ; thus ambition blindly labours for the destruction 
 of the conqueror, of his family, and of every thing near 
 and dear to him. The Bourbons, trusting to the support 
 of their brave, faithful, and affectionate nobility, would 
 push their advantage without reserve or limitation. These, 
 while fired with glory and emulation, can bear the fa- 
 tigues and dangers of war ; but never would submit to lan- 
 guish in the garrisons of Hungary or Lithuania, forgot at 
 court, and sacrificed to the intrigues of every minion or 
 mistress who approaches the prince. The troops are 
 filled with Cravates and Tartars, Hussars and Cossacs, 
 intermingled, perhaps, with a few soldiers of fortune from 
 the better provinces ; and the melancholy fate of the Ro- 
 man emperors, from the same cause, is renewed over and 
 over again, till the final dissolution of the monarchy.
 
 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 OF TAXES. 
 
 J here is a prevailing maxim among some reasoners, 
 that every neiv tax creates a new ability in the subject to 
 hear it, and that each increase oj 'public burdens increases 
 proportionably the industry of the people. This maxim is 
 of such a nature as is most likely to be abused, and is so 
 much the more dangerous, as its truth cannot be altoge- 
 ther denied; but it must be owned, when kept within cer- 
 tain bounds, to have some foundation in reason and ex- 
 perience. 
 
 When a tax is laid upon commodities which arc con- 
 sumed by the common people, the necessary consequence 
 may seem to be, either that the poor must retrench some- 
 thing from their way of living, or raise their wages, so as 
 to make the burden of the tax fall entirely upon the rich. 
 But there is a third consequence which often follows upon 
 taxes, namely, that the poor increase their industry, per- 
 form more work, and live as well as before, without de- 
 manding more for their labour. Where taxes are mo- 
 derate, are laid on gradually, and affect not the necessaries 
 of life, this consequence naturally follows ; and it is certain, 
 that such difficulties often serve to excite the industry of a 
 people, and render them more opulent and laborious, than 
 others, who enjoy the greatest advantages ; for we may
 
 OF TAXES. 341 
 
 observe, as a parallel instance, that the most commercial 
 nations have not always possessed the greatest extent of 
 fertile land, but, on the contrary, that they have laboured 
 under many natural disadvantages. Tyre, Athens, Car- 
 thage, Rhodes, Genoa, Venice, Holland, are strong ex- 
 amples to this purpose ; and in all history, we find only 
 three instances of large and fertile countries which have 
 possessed much trade; the Netherlands, England, and 
 France. The two former seem to have been allured by 
 the advantages of their maritime situation, and die neces- 
 sity they lay under of frequenting foreign ports, in order 
 to procure what their own climate refused them ; and as 
 to France, trade has come late into that kingdom, and 
 seems to have been the effect of reflection and observation 
 in an ingenious and enterprising people, who remarked 
 the riches acquired by such of the neighbouring nations as 
 cultivated navigation and commerce. 
 
 The places mentioned by Cicero a , as possessed of the 
 greatest commerce in his time, are Alexandria, Colchos, 
 Tyre, Sidon, Andros, Cyprus, Pamphylia, Lycia, Rhodes, 
 Chios, Byzantium, Lesbos, Smyrna, Miletum, Coos. All 
 these, except Alexandria, were either small islands, or nar- 
 row territories ; and that city owed its trade entirely to 
 the happiness of its situation. 
 
 Since, therefore, some natural necessities or disadvanta- 
 ges may be thought favourable to industry, why may not 
 artificial burdens have the same effect ? Sir William Tem- 
 ple b , we may observe, ascribes the industry of the Dutch 
 entirely to necessity, proceeding from their natural disad- 
 vantages ; and illustrates his doctrine by a striking com- 
 parison with Ireland, " where," says he, " by the large- 
 
 a Epist. ad Att. lib. ix. ep. II. 
 
 b Account of the Netherlands, chap. 6,
 
 312 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 ness and plenty of the soil, and scarcity of people, all 
 things necessary to life are so cheap, that an industrious 
 man, by two days' labour, may gain enough to teed him 
 the rest of the week ; which 1 take to be a very plain 
 ground of the laziness attributed to the people, for men 
 natnraily prefer ease before labour, and will not take pains 
 if they can live idle; though when, by necessity, they have 
 been inured to it, they cannot leave it, being grown a 
 custom necessary to their health, and to their very enter- 
 tainment. Nor perhaps is the change harder, from con- 
 stant ease to labour, than from constant labour to ease." 
 AnYr which the author proceeds to confirm his doctrine, 
 bv enumerating, as above, the places where trade has most 
 flourished in ancient and modern times; and which are 
 commonly observed to be such narrow confined territories, 
 as beget a necessity for industry. 
 
 The best taxes arc such as are levied upon consump- 
 tions, especially those of luxury, because such taxes are 
 least felt by the people. They seem, in some measure, 
 voluntary ; since a man may choose how far he will use the 
 commodity which is taxed. They are paid gradually and 
 insensibly ; they naturally produce sobriety and frugality, 
 if judiciously imposed ; and being confounded with the 
 natural price of the commodity, they are scarcely perceived 
 by the consumers. Their only disadvantage is, that they 
 are expensive in the levying. 
 
 Taxes upon possessions arc levied without expence, but 
 have every other disadvantage. Most states, however, 
 are obliged to have recourse to them, in order to supply 
 the deficiencies of the other. 
 
 But the most pernicious of all taxes are the arbitrary. 
 They arc commonly converted, by their management, in- 
 :o punishments on industry: and also, by their unavoid-
 
 ©F TAXES. S^S 
 
 able inequality, are more grievous, 'than by the real bur- 
 den which they impose. It is surprising, therefore, to see 
 them have piace «>mong any civilized people. 
 
 In general, all poll-taxes, even when not arbitrary, which 
 they commonly are, may be esteemed dangerous : Because 
 it is so easy for the sovereign to add a little more, and a 
 little more, to the sum demanded, that these taxes are apt 
 to become altogether oppressive and intolerable. On the 
 other hand, a duty upon commodities checks itself; and a 
 prince will soon find, that an increase of the impost is no 
 increase of his revenue. It is not easy, therefore, for a 
 people to be altogether ruined by such taxes. 
 
 Historians inform us, that one of the chief causes of the 
 destruction of the Roman state, was the alteration which 
 Constantine introduced into the finances, by substituting 
 an universal poll-tax, in lieu of almost all the tithes, cus- 
 toms, and excises, which formerly composed the revenue 
 of the empire. The people, in all the provinces, were so 
 grinded and oppressed by the publicans, that they were 
 glad to take refuge under the conquering arms of the bar- 
 barians ; whose dominion, as they had fewer necessities 
 and less art, was found preferable to the refined tyranny of 
 the Romans. 
 
 It is an opinion, zealously promoted by some political 
 writers, that, since all taxes, as they pretend, fall ultimate- 
 ly upon land, it were better to lay them originally there, 
 and abolish every duty upon consumptions. But it is de- 
 nied that all taxes fall ultimately upon land. If a duty 
 be laid upon any commodity, consumed by an artisan, he 
 has two obvious expedients for paying it: he may retrench 
 somewhat of his expence, or he may increase Ids labour. 
 Both these resources are more easy and natural than that 
 of heightening his wages. We see, that, in years of scar-
 
 344 essay vwr. 
 
 city, the weaver either consumes less or labours more, or 
 employs both these expedients ol' frugality and industry, 
 by which he is enabled to reach the end of the year. It is 
 but just that he should subject himself to the same hard- 
 ships, if they deserve the name, for the sake of the public 
 which gives him protection. By what contrivance can he 
 raise the price of his labour? The manufacturer who em- 
 ploys him will not give him more : Neither can he, be- 
 cause the merchant, who exports the cloth, cannot raise its 
 price, being limited by the price which it yields in foreign 
 markets. Every man, to be sure, is desirous of pushing 
 off from himself the burden of any tax which is imposed, 
 and of laying it upon others : But as every man has the 
 same inclination, and is upon the defensive ; no set of men 
 can be supposed to prevail altogether in this contest. And 
 why the landed gentleman should be the victim of the 
 whole, and should not be able to defend himself, as well 
 as others are, I cannot readily imagine. All tradesmen, 
 indeed, would willingly prey upon him, and divide him 
 among them, if they could : But this inclination they al- 
 ways have, though no taxes were levied; and the same 
 methods by which he guards against the imposition of 
 tradesmen before taxes, will serve him afterwards, and 
 make them share the burden with him. They must be 
 very heavy taxes, indeed, and very injudiciously levied, 
 which the artisan will not, of himself, be enabled to pay 
 by superior industry and frugality, without raising the 
 price of his labour. 
 
 I shall conclude this subject with observing, that we 
 have, with regard to taxes, an instance of what frequently 
 happens in political institutions, that the consequences of 
 things are diametrically opposite to what we should expect 
 on the first appearance. It is regarded as a fundamental
 
 of taxes. 3i5 
 
 maxim of the Turkish government, that the Grand Sig- 
 nior, though absolute master of the lives and fortunes of 
 each individual, has no authority to impose a new tax : 
 and every Ottoman prince, who has made such an attempt, 
 either has been obliged to retract, or has found the fatal 
 effects of his perseverance. One would imagine, that this 
 prejudice or established opinion were the firmest barrier in 
 the world against oppression : yet it is certain that its ef- 
 fect is quite contrary. The emperor, having no regular 
 method of increasing his revenue, must allow all the ba- 
 shaws and governors to oppress and abuse the subjects ; 
 and these he squeezes after their return from their govern- 
 ment. Whereas, if he could impose a new tax, like our 
 European princes, his interest would so far be united with 
 that of his people, that he would immediately feel the bad 
 effects of these disorderly levies of money, and would find, 
 that a pound, raised by a general imposition, would have 
 less pernicious effects than a shilling taken in so unequal 
 and arbitrary a manner.
 
 ESSAY IX. 
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 
 
 It appears to have been the common practice of antiqui- 
 ty, to make provision, during peace, for the necessities of 
 war, and to hoard up treasures beforehand as the instru- 
 ments either of conquest or defence; without trusting to 
 extraordinary impositions, much Jess to borrowing in times 
 of disorder and confusion. Besides the immense sums 
 above mentioned % which were amassed by Athens, and 
 by the Ptolemies, and other successors of Alexander ; we 
 learn from Plato b , that the frugal Lacedemonians had al- 
 so collected a great treasure ; and Arrian c and Plutarch d 
 take notice of the riches which Alexander got possession 
 of on the conquest of Susa and Ecbatana, and which were 
 reserved, some of them, from the time of Cyrus. If I re- 
 member right, the Scripture also mentions the treasure of 
 Hezekiah and the Jewish princes ; as profane history does 
 that of Philip and Perseus, kings of Macedon. The an- 
 cient republics of Gaul had commonly large sums in re- 
 serve e . Every one knows the treasure seized in Rome by 
 
 a Essay V. b Alcib. I. c Lib. iii. 
 
 d Plut. in vita Alex. lie makes these treasures amount to 80,000 ta- 
 lents, or about 15 millions Sterling. Quintus Curtius (lib. v. cap. 2.) says? 
 that Alexander found in Susa above 50,000 talents. 
 c Strabo, lib. iv.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 3 47 
 
 Julius Caesar, during the civil wars : and we find after- 
 wards, that the wiser emperors, Augustus, Tiberius, Ves- 
 pasian, Severus, ivc. always discovered the prudent lore- 
 sight of saving great sums against any public exigency. 
 
 On the contrary, our modern expedient, winch has be- 
 come very general, is to mortgage the public revenues, and 
 to trust that posterity will pay oft' the incumbrances con- 
 tracted by their ancestors : And they, having before their 
 eyes so good an example of their wise fathers, have the 
 same prudent reliance on their posterity ; who, at last, 
 from necessity more than choice, are obliged to place the 
 same confidence in a new posterity. But not to waste time 
 in declaiming against a practice which appears ruinous be- 
 yond all controversy ; it seems pretty apparent, that the 
 ancient maxims are, in this respect, more prudent than 
 the modern ; even though the latter had been confined 
 within some reasonable bounds, and had ever, in any in- 
 stance, been attended with such frugality, in time of peace, 
 as to discharge the debts incurred by an expensive war. 
 For why should the case be so different between the public 
 and an individual, as to make us establish different maxims 
 of conduct for each ? If the funds of the former be greater, 
 its necessary expences are proportionabiy larger; if its re- 
 sources be more numerous, they are not infinite ; and as 
 its frame should be calculated for a much longer duration 
 than the date of a single life, or even of a family, it should 
 embrace maxims, large, durable, and generous, agreeably 
 to the supposed extent of its existence. To trust to chances 
 and temporary expedients, is, indeed, what the necessity 
 of human affairs frequently renders unavoidable ; but who- 
 ever voluntarily depend on such resources, have not ne- 
 cessity, but their own f .]jy to accuse for their misfortune-, 
 when any such befall them.
 
 318 ESSAY IX. 
 
 If tlie abuses of treasures be dangerous, either by enga- 
 ging the state in rash enterprises, or making it neghct mi- 
 litary discipline, in confidence of its riches ; the abuses of 
 mortgaging are more certain and inevitable; poverty, im- 
 potence, and subjection to foreign powers. 
 
 According to modern policy, war is attended with every 
 destructive circumstance ; loss of men, increase of taxes, 
 decay of commerce, dissipation of money, devastation by 
 sea and land. According to ancient maxims, the opening 
 of the public treasure, as it produced an uncommon af- 
 fluence of gold and silver, served as a temporary encou- 
 ragement to industry, and atoned, in some degree, tor the 
 inevitable calamities of war. 
 
 It is very tempting to a minister to employ such an ex- 
 pedient, as enables him to make a great figure (.luring his 
 administration, without overburdening the people with 
 taxes, or exciting any immediate clamours against himself. 
 The practice, therefore, of contracting debt, will almost 
 infallibly be abused in every government. It would scarce- 
 ly be more imprudent to give a prodigal son a credit in 
 every banker's shop in London, than to empower a states- 
 man to draw bills, in this manner, upon posterity. 
 
 What, then, shall we say to the new paradox, that pu- 
 blic incumbrances are, of themselves, advantageous, inde- 
 pendent of the necessity of contracting them ; and that 
 any state, even though it were not pressed by a foreign ene- 
 my, could not possibly have embraced a wiser expedient 
 for promoting commerce and riches, than to create funds, 
 and debts, and taxes, without limitation ? Reasonings, 
 such as these, might naturally have passed for trials of wit 
 among rhetoricians, like the panegyrics on folly and a fe- 
 ver, on Busiris and Nero, had we not seen such absurd
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 349 
 
 maxims patronized by great ministers, and by a whole par- 
 ty among us. 
 
 Let u>. examine the consequences of public debts, both 
 in our domotic management, by their influence on com- 
 merce and industry; and in our foreign transactions, by 
 their effect on wars and negotiations. 
 
 Pub ; ic securities are with us become a kind of money, 
 and pass as readily at the current price as gold or silver. 
 Wherever any profitable undertaking offers itself, how ex- 
 pensive however, there are never wanting hands enow to 
 embrace it ; nor need a trader, who has sums in the public 
 stocks, fear to launch out into the most extensive trade ; 
 since he is possessed of funds which will answer the most 
 sudden demand that can be made upon him. No mer- 
 chant thinks it necessary to keep by him any considerable 
 ca>h. Bank-stock, or India bonds, especially the latter, 
 serve all the same purposes; because he can dispose of 
 them, or pledge them to a banker, in a quarter of an hour ; 
 and at the same time they arc not idle, even when in his 
 scrutoire, but bring him in a constant revenue. In short 
 our national debts furnish merchants with a species of mo- 
 ney that is continually multiplying in their hands, and pro- 
 duces sure gain, besides the profits of their commerce. 
 This must enable them to trade upon less profit. The 
 small profit of the merchant renders the commodity cheaper, 
 causes a greater consumption, quickens the labour of the 
 common people, and helps to spread arts and industry 
 throughout the whole society. 
 
 There are also, we may observe, in England and in all 
 states which have both commerce and public debts, a set 
 of men, who are half merchants, half stockholders, and 
 may be supposed willing to trade for small profits ; because 
 commerce is not their principal or sole support, and their
 
 0.33 ESSAY IX. 
 
 revenues in the funds are a sure resource for themselves 
 and their families. Were there no funds, great merchants 
 would have no expedient for realizing or securing any part 
 of their profit, but by making purchases of land ; and land 
 has many disadvantages in comparison of funds. Requiring 
 more care and inspection, it divides the time and attention 
 of the merchant upon any tempting offer or extraordinary 
 accident in trade, it is not so easily converted into money; 
 and as it attracts too much, both by the many natural plea- 
 sures it affords, and the authority it gives, it soon converts 
 the citizen into the country gentleman. More men, there- 
 fore, with large stocks and incomes, may naturally be sup- 
 posed to continue in trade, where there are public debts ; 
 and this, it must be owned, is of some advantage to com- 
 merce, by diminishing its profits, promoting circulation, 
 and encouraging industry. 
 
 But, in opposition to these two favourable circumstances, 
 perhaps of no very great importance, weigh the many dis- 
 advantages which attend our public debts, in the whole in- 
 terior economy of the state: You will find no comparison 
 between the ill and the good which result from them. 
 
 First, It is certain that national debts cause a mighty 
 confluence of people and riches to the capital, by the great 
 sums levied in the provinces to pay the interest ; and per- 
 haps, too, by the advantages in trade above mentioned, 
 which they give the merchants in the capital above the rest 
 of the kingdom. The question is, Whether, in our case, 
 it be for the public interest, that so many privileges should 
 be conferred on London, which has already arrived at such 
 an enormous size, and seems still increasing ? Some men 
 are apprehensive of the consequences. For my own part, 
 I cannot forbear thinking, that, though the head is undoubt- 
 edly too large for the body, yet that great city is so hap-
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 351 
 
 pily situated, that its excessive bulk causes less inconveni- 
 ence than even a smaller capital to a greater kingdom. 
 There is more difference between the prices of ail provisions 
 in Paris and Languedoc, than between those in London 
 and Yorkshire. The immense greatness, indeed, of Lon- 
 don, under a government which admits not of discretionary 
 power, renders the people factious, mutinous, seditious, 
 and even perhaps rebellious. But to this evil the national 
 debts themselves tend to provide a remedy. The first visi- 
 ble eruption, or even immediate danger of public disorders, 
 must alarm all the stockholders, whose property is the most 
 precarious of any ; and will make them fly to the support 
 of government, whether menaced by Jacobitish violence, or 
 democratical frenzy. 
 
 Secondly, Public stocks, being a kind of paper-credit, 
 have all the disadvantages attending that species of money. 
 They banish gold and silver from the most considerable 
 commerce of the state, reduce them to common circulation, 
 and by that means render all provisions and labour dearer 
 than otherwise they would be. 
 
 Thirdly, The taxes, which are levied to pay the interests 
 of these debts, are apt either to heighten the price of la- 
 bour, or to be an oppression on the poorer sort. 
 
 Fourthly, As foreigners possess a great share of our 
 national funds, they render the public, in a manner, tribu- 
 tary to them, and may in time occasion the transport of 
 our people and our industry. 
 
 Fifthly, The greater part of the public stock beino- al- 
 ways in the hands of idle people, who live on their reve- 
 nue, our funds, in that view, give great encouragement to 
 an useless and inactive life. 
 
 But though the injury, that arises to commerce and in- 
 dustry from our public funds, will appear, upon balancing
 
 352 ESSAY IX. 
 
 the whole, not inconsiderable, it is trivial, in comparison 
 of the prejudice that results to the state considered as a 
 body politic, which must support itself in the society of 
 nations, and have various transactions with other states in 
 wars and negociations. The ill there, is pure and unmix- 
 ed, without any favourable circumstance to atone for it; 
 and it is an ill too of a nature the highest and most im- 
 portant. 
 
 We have indeed been told, that the public is no weaker 
 upon account of its debts, since they are mostly due 
 among ourselves, and bring as much property to one as 
 they take from another. It is like transferring money 
 from the right hand to the left ; which leaves the person 
 neither richer nor poorer than before. Such loose reason- 
 ings and specious comparisons will always pass where we 
 judge not upon principles. I ask, Is it possible, in the 
 nature of things to overburden a nation with taxes, even 
 where the sovereign resides among them ? The very doubt 
 seems extravagant ; since it is requisite, in every commu- 
 nity, that there be a certain proportion observed between 
 the laborious and the idle part of it. But if all our pre- 
 sent taxes be mortgaged, must we not invent new ones? 
 And may not this matter be carried to a length that is 
 ruinous and destructive ? 
 
 In every nation, there are always some methods of levy- 
 ing money more easy than others, agreeably to the way of 
 living of the people, and the commodities they make use 
 of. In Great Britain, the excises upon malt and beer af- 
 ford a large revenue ; because the operations of malting 
 and brewing are tedious, and are impossible to be conceal- 
 ed ; and, at the same time, these commodities are not so 
 absolutely necessary to life, as that the raising of their price 
 would very much affect the poorer sort. These taxe-
 
 or PUBLIC CREDIT. 353 
 
 being all mortgaged, what difficulty to find new ones ! what 
 vexation and ruin of the poor ! 
 
 Duties upon consumptions are more equal and easy than 
 those upon possessions. What a loss to the public that 
 the former are all exhausted, and that we must have re- 
 course to the more grievous method of levying taxes ! 
 
 Were all the proprietors of land only stewards to the 
 public, must not necessity force them to practise all the arts 
 of oppression used by stewards; where the absence or ne- 
 gligence of the proprietor render them secure against in- 
 quiry ? 
 
 It will scarcely be asserted, that no bounds ought ever 
 to be set to national debts, and that the public would be 
 no weaker, were twelve or fifteen shillings in the pound, 
 land-tax, mortgaged, with all the present customs and ex- 
 cises. There is something, therefore, in the case, beside the 
 mere transferring of property from the one hand to an- 
 other. In five hundred years, the posterity of those now 
 in the coaches, and of those upon the boxes, will probably 
 have changed places, without affecting the public by these 
 revolutions. 
 
 Suppose the public once fairly brought to that condi- 
 tion, to which it is hastening with such amazing rapidity; 
 suppose the land to be taxed eighteen or nineteen shillings 
 in the pound ; for it can never bear the whole twenty j 
 suppose all the excises and customs to be screwed up to the 
 utmost which the nation can bear, without entirely losing 
 its commerce and industry ; and suppose that all those 
 funds are mortgaged to perpetuity, and that the invention 
 and wit of all our projectors can find no new imposition, 
 which may serve as the foundation of a new loan ; and let 
 us consider the necessary consequences of this situation. 
 Though the imperfect state of our political knowledge, and 
 
 vol. j. 2 a
 
 354? ESSAY IX. 
 
 the narrow capacities of men, make it difficult to foretell the 
 effects which will result from any untried measure, the 
 seeds of ruin are here scattered with such profusion as not 
 to escape the eye of 'he most careless observer. 
 
 In this unnatural state of society, the only persons who 
 possess any revenue beyond the immediate effects of their 
 industry, are the stockholders, who draw almost all the 
 rent of the land and houses, besides the produce of all the 
 customs and excises. These are men who have no con- 
 nexions with the state, who can enjoy their revenue in any 
 part of the globe in which they choose to reside, who will 
 naturally bury themselves in the capital, or in great cities, 
 and who will sink into the lethargy of a stupid and pam- 
 pered luxury, without spirit, ambition, orenjoyment Adieu 
 to all ideas of nobility, gentry, and family. The stocks 
 can be transferred in an instant ; and being in such a fluc- 
 tuating state, will seldom be transmitted during three ge- 
 nerations from father to son. Or were they co remain ever 
 so long in one family, they convey no hereditary authority 
 or credit to the possessor ; and by this means the several 
 ranks of men, which form a kind of independent magistra- 
 cy in a state, instituted by the hand of nature, are entirely 
 lost; and every man in authority derive- his influence from 
 the commission alone of the sovereign. No expedient re- 
 mains for preventing or suppressing insurrections but mer- 
 cenary armies : No expedient at all remains for resisting 
 tyranny : Elections are swayed by bribery and corrupti< n 
 alone : And the middle power between king and people be- 
 ing totally removed, a grievous despotism must infallibly 
 prevail. The landholders, despised for their poverty, and 
 hated for their oppressions, will be utterly unable to make 
 any opposition to it. 
 
 Though a resolution should be formed by the legislature
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 355 
 
 never to impose any tax which hurts commerce and dis- 
 courages industry, it will be impossible for men, in subjects 
 of such extreme delicacy, to reason so justly as never to be 
 mistaken, or amidst difficulties so urgent, never to be se- 
 duced from their resolution. The continual fluctuations in 
 commerce require continual alterations in the nature of the 
 taxes ; which exposes the legislature every moment to the 
 danger both of wilful and involuntary error. And any 
 great blow given to trade, whether by injudicious taxes or 
 by other accidents, throws the whole system of government 
 into confusion. 
 
 But what expedient can the public now employ, even 
 supposing trade to continue in the most flourishing condi- 
 tion, in order to support its foreign wars and enterprises, 
 and to defend its own honour and interest, or those of its 
 ailies ? I do not ask how the public is to exert such a pro- 
 digious power as it has maintained during our late wars ; 
 where we have so much exceeded, not only our own natu- 
 ral strength, but even that of the greatest empires. This 
 extravagance is the abuse complained of, as the source of 
 all the dangers to which we are at present exposed. But 
 since we must still suppose great commerce and opulence 
 to remain, even after every fund is mortgaged ; these riches 
 must be defended by proportional power ; and whence is 
 the public to derive the revenue which supports it ? It must 
 plainly be from a continual taxation of the annuities, or, 
 which is the same thing, from mortgaging anew, on every 
 exigency, a certain part of their annuities ; and thus ma- 
 king them contribute to their own defence, and to that of 
 the nation. But the difficulties attending this system of 
 policy will easily appear, whether we suppose the king to 
 have become absolute master, or to be still controlled by
 
 356 ESSAY IX. 
 
 national councils, in which the annuitants themselves must 
 necessarily boar the principal sway. 
 
 If the prince has become absolute, as may naturally be 
 expected from this situation of affairs, it is so easy for him 
 to increase his exactions upon the annuitants, which amount 
 only to the retaining of money in his own hands, that this 
 species of property would soon lose all its credit, and the 
 whole income of every individual in the state must lie en- 
 tirely at the mercy of the sovereign ; a degree of despo- 
 tism which no oriental monarch has ever yet attained. If, 
 on the contrary, the consent of the annuitants be requisite 
 for every taxation, they will never be persuaded to contri- 
 bute sufficiently even to the support of government ; as the 
 diminution of their revenue must in that case be very sen- 
 sible, would not be disguised under the appearance of a 
 branch of excise or customs, and would not be shared by 
 any other order of the state, who are already supposed to 
 be taxed to the utmost. There are instances, in some re- 
 publics, of a hundredth penny, and sometimes of the fiftieth, 
 being given to the support of the state; but this is always 
 an extraoidinary exertion of power, and can never become 
 the foundation of a constant national defence. We have 
 always found, where a government has mortgaged all its 
 revenues, that it necessarily sinks into a state of languor, 
 inactivity, and impotence. 
 
 Such are the inconveniences which may reasonably be 
 foreseen of this situation to which Great Britain is visibly 
 tending. Not to mention the numberless inconveniences, 
 which cannot be foreseen, and which must result from so 
 monstrous a situation as that of making the public the chief 
 or sole proprietor of land, besides investing it with every 
 branch of customs and excise, which the fertile imagination 
 of ministers and projectors have been able to invent.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 357 
 
 I must confess that there has a strange supineness, from 
 long custom, creeped into all ranks of men, with regard to 
 public debts, not unlike what divines so vehemently com- 
 plain of with regard to their religious doctrines. We all 
 own that the most sanguine imagination cannot hope, ei- 
 ther that this or any future ministry will be possessed of 
 such rigid and steady frugality, as to make a considerable 
 progress in the payment of our debts ; or that the situa- 
 tion of foreign affairs will, for any long time, aljow them 
 leisure and tranquillity for such an undertaking. What then 
 is to become of us ? Were we ever so good Christians, and 
 ever so resigned to providence; this, methinks, were a cu- 
 rious question, even considered as a speculative one, and 
 what it might not be altogether impossible to form some 
 conjectural solution of. The events here will depend lit- 
 tle upon the contingencies of battles, negociations, intrigues 
 and factions. There seems to be a natural progress of 
 things which may guide our reasoning. As it would have 
 required but a moderate share of prudence, when we first 
 began this practice of mortgaging, to have foretold, from 
 the nature of men and of ministers, that things would neces- 
 sarily be carried to the length we see: so now, that they have 
 at last happily reached it, it may not be difficult to guess 
 at the consequences. It must, indeed, be one of these two 
 events ; either the nation must destroy public credit, or pu- 
 blic credit will destroy the nation. It is impossible that 
 they can both subsist, after the manner they have been hi- 
 therto managed, in this, as well as in some other countries. 
 There was, indeed, a scheme for the payment of our 
 debts, which was proposed by an excellent citizen, Mr 
 Hutchinson, above thirty years ago, and which was much 
 approved of by some men of sense, but never was likely to 
 take effect. He asserted that there was a fallacy in ima-
 
 358 ESSAY IX. 
 
 gining that the public owed this debt ; for that really every 
 individual owed a proportional share of it, and paid, in his 
 taxes, a proportional share of the interest, beside the ex- 
 pence of levying these taxes. Had we not better, then, 
 says he, make a distribution of the debt among ourselves, 
 and each of us contribute a sum suitable to his property, 
 and by that means discharge at once all our funds and 
 public mortgages. He seems not to have considered that 
 the laborious poor pay a considerable part of the taxes by 
 their annual consumptions, though they could not advance, 
 at once, a proportional part of the sum required. Not to 
 mention, that property in money and stock in trade might 
 easily be concealed or disguised j and that visible proper- 
 ty in lands and houses would really at last answer for the 
 whole : An inequality and oppression, which never would 
 be submitted to. But though this project is not likely to 
 take place, it is not altogether improbable, that, when the 
 nation becomes heartily sick of their debts, and is cruelly 
 oppressed by them, some daring projector may arise with 
 visionary schemes for their discharge. And as public cre- 
 dit will begin, by that time, to be a little frail, the least 
 touch will destroy it, as happened in France during the 
 regency; and in this manner it will die of the doctor. 
 
 But it is more probable, that the breach of national faith 
 will be the necessary effect of wars, defeats, misfortunes, 
 and public calamities, or even perhaps of victories and 
 conquests. I must confess, when I see princes and states 
 fighting and quarrelling, amidst their debts, funds, and 
 public mortgages, it always brings to my mind a match of 
 cudgel-playing fought in a China shop. How can it be 
 expected, that sovereigns will spare a species of property, 
 which is pernicious to themselves and to the public, when 
 they have so little compassion on lives and properties, that
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 359 
 
 are useful to both ? Let the time come (and surely it will 
 come) when the new funds, created for the exigencies of 
 the year, are not subscribed to, and raise not the money 
 projected. Suppose either that the cash of the nation is 
 exhausted; or that our faith, which has hitherto been so 
 ample* begins to fail us. Suppose that, in this distress, 
 the nation is threatened with an invasion ; a rebellion is 
 suspected or broken out at home; a squadron cannot be 
 equipped for want of pay, victuals, or repairs ; or even a 
 foreign subsidy cannot be advanced. What must a prince 
 or minister do in such an emergence ? The right of self- 
 preservation is unalienable in every individual, much more 
 in every community. And the folly of our statesmen must 
 then be greater than the folly ot those who first contracted 
 debt, or, what is more, than that of those who trusted, or 
 continue to trust this security, if these statesmen have the 
 means of safety in their hands, and do not employ them. 
 The funds, created and mortgaged, will by that time 
 bring in a large yearly revenue, sufficient for the di fence 
 and security of the nation : Money is perhaps lying in the 
 exchequer, ready for the discharge of the quarterly in- 
 terest : necessity calls, fear urges, reason exhorts, compas- 
 sion alone exclaims : The money will immediately be seized 
 for the current service, under the most solemn protesta- 
 tions, perhaps, of being immediately replaced. But no 
 more is requisite. The whole fabric, already tottering, 
 falls to the ground, and buiies thousands in its ruins. And 
 this, 1 think, may be called the natural death of public cre- 
 dit ; for to this period it tends as naturally as an animal 
 body to its dissolution and destruction. 
 
 So great dupes are the generality of mankind, that, not- 
 withstanding such a violent shock to public credit, as a vo- 
 luntary bankruptcy in England would occasion, it would
 
 360 ESSAY IX. 
 
 not probably be long ere credit would again revive in as 
 flourishing a condition as before. The present king of 
 France, during the late war, borrowed money at a lower 
 interest than ever his grandfather did ; and as low as the 
 British parliament, comparing the natural rate of interest 
 in both kingdoms. And though men are commonly more 
 governed by what they have seen, than by what they fore- 
 see, with whatever certainty ; yet promises, protestations, 
 fair appearances, with the allurements of present interest, 
 have such powerful influence as few are able to resist. 
 Mankind are, in all ages, caught by the same baits : The 
 same tricks, played over and over again, still trepan them. 
 The heights of popularity and patriotism are still the beaten 
 road to power and tyranny ; flattery, to treachery ; stand- 
 ing armies to arbitrary government ; and the glory of God 
 to the temporal interest of the clergy. The fear of an 
 everlasting destruction of credit, allowing it to be an evil, 
 is a needless bugbear. A prudent man, in reality, would 
 rather lend to the public immediately after we had taken a 
 spunge to our debts, than at present ; as much as an opu- 
 lent knave, even though one could not force him to pay, 
 is a preferable debtor to an honest bankrupt : For the for- 
 mer, in order to carry on business, may find it his interest 
 to discharge his debts, where they are not exorbitant : The 
 latter has it not in his power. The reasoning of Tacitus a , 
 as it is eternally true, is very applicable to our present case, 
 Sed vulgus ad magnitudinem beneficiorum aderat : Stidtis- 
 simus quisque pccuniis mercabatur : Apud sapient es cassa ha~ 
 bebantnr, qua? neqne dari neque accipi, salva republican po- 
 terant. The public is a debtor, whom no man can oblige 
 to pay. The only check which the creditors have upon 
 
 a Hist. lib. ii.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 361 
 
 her, is the interest of preserving credit; an interest which 
 may easily be overbalanced by a great debt, and by a dif- 
 ficult and extraordinary emergence, even supposing that 
 credit irrecoverable. Not to mention, that a present ne- 
 cessity often forces states into measures, which are, strictly 
 speaking, against their interest. 
 
 These two events supposed above, are calamitous, but 
 not the most calamitous. Thousands are thereby sacri- 
 ficed to the safety of millions. But we are not without 
 danger, that the contrary event may take place, and that 
 millions may be sacrificed for ever to the temporary safety 
 of thousands 3 . Our popular government, perhaps, will 
 render it difficult or dangerous for a minister to venture 
 on so desperate an expedient as that of a voluntary bank- 
 ruptcy. And though the House of Lords be altogether 
 composed of proprietors of land, and the House of Com- 
 mons chiefly ; and consequently neither of them can be 
 supposed to have great property in the funds : Yet the con- 
 nexions of the members may be so great with the proprie- 
 tors, as to render them more tenacious of public faith than 
 prudence, policy, or even justice, strictly speaking, requires. 
 And perhaps, too, our foreign enemies may be so politic 
 as to discover, that our safety lies in despair, and may not, 
 therefore, show the danger, open and barefaced, till it be 
 inevitable. The balance of power in Europe, our grand- 
 fathers, our fathers, and we, have all deemed too unequal 
 to be preserved without our attention and assistance. But 
 our children, weary of the struggle, and fettered with en- 
 cumbrances, may sit down secure, and see their neigh- 
 bours oppressed and conquered; till, at last, they them- 
 selves and their creditors lie both at the mercy of the con- 
 
 a See Note [S.I
 
 362 ESSAY IX. 
 
 queror. And this may properly enough be denominated 
 the violent death of our public credit. 
 
 These seem to be the events, which are not very remote, 
 and which reason foresees as clearly almost as she can do 
 anything that lies in the womb of time. And though the 
 ancients maintained that, in order to reach the gift of pro- 
 phecy, a certain divine fury or madness was requisite, one 
 may safely affirm that, in order to deliver such prophecies 
 as these, no more is necessary than merely to be in one's 
 senses, free from the influence of popular madness and de- 
 lusion.
 
 ESSAY X, 
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 
 
 1 shall observe three remarkable customs in three cele- 
 brated governments ; and shall conclude from the whole, 
 that all general maxims in politics ought to be established 
 with great caution ; and that irregular and extraordinary 
 appearances are frequently discovered in the moral, as well 
 as in the physical world. The former, perhaps, we can 
 better account for after they happen, from springs and 
 principles, of which every one has, within himself, or from 
 observation, the strongest assurance and conviction : But 
 it is often fully as impossible for human prudence, before- 
 hand, to foresee and foretell them. 
 
 I. One would think it essential to every supreme coun- 
 cil or assembly which debates, that entire liberty of speech 
 should be granted to every member, and that all motions 
 or reasonings should be received, which can any way tend 
 to illustrate the point under deliberation. One would con- 
 clude, with still greater assurance, that, after a motion was 
 made, which was voted and approved by that assembly in 
 which the legislative power is lodged, the member who 
 made the motion must for ever be exempted from future 
 trial or inquiry. But no political maxim can, at first sight, 
 appear more indisputable, than that he must, at least, be 
 secured from all inferior jurisdiction ; and that nothing less
 
 364- ESSAY X. 
 
 than the same supreme legislative assembly in their subse- 
 quent meetings, could make him accountable for those mo- 
 tions and harangues, to which they had before given their 
 approbation. But these axioms, however irrefragable they 
 may appear, have all failed in the Athenian government, 
 from causes and principles too, which appear almost in- 
 evitable. 
 
 By they§«? l '<i ttx^xvci/mv, or indictment of illegality., (though 
 it has not been remarked by antiquaries or commentators) 
 any man was tried and punished in a common court of 
 judicature, for any law which had passed upon his motion, 
 in the assembly of the people, if that law appeared to the 
 court unjust, or prejudicial to the public. Thus Demos- 
 thenes, finding that ship-money was levied irregularly, and 
 that the poor bore the same burden as the rich in equip- 
 ping the galleys, corrected this inequality by a very useful 
 Jaw, which proportioned the expencc to the revenue and 
 income of each individual. He moved for this law in the 
 assembly; he proved its advantages 3 ; he convinced the 
 people, the only legislature in Athens ; the law passed, and 
 was carried into execution : Yet was he tried in a crimi- 
 nal court for that law, upon the complaint of the rich, who 
 resented the alteration that he had introduced into the 
 finances h . He was indeed acquitted, upon proving anew 
 the usefulness of his law. 
 
 Ctesiphon moved in the assembly of the people, that 
 particular honours should be conferred on Demosthenes, 
 as on a citizen affectionate and useful to the common- 
 wealth : The people, convinced of this truth, voted those 
 honours : Yet was Ctesiphon tried by the ye,x£n Trx^xvopm, 
 
 a His harangue for it is still extant : n^i Lv^^opv.;. 
 * Pro Ctesiphonte.
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 365 
 
 It was asserted, among other topics, that Demosthenes was 
 not a good citizen, nor affectionate to the commonwealth : 
 And the orator was called upon to defend his friend, and 
 consequently himself ; which he executed by that sublime 
 piece of eloquence, that has ever since been the admiration 
 of mankind. 
 
 After the battle of Chseronea, a law was passed upon the 
 motion of Hyperides, giving liberty to slaves, and enroll- 
 ing them in the troops 3 . On account of this law, the 
 orator was afterwards tried by the indictment above men- 
 tioned, and defended himself, among other topics, by that 
 stroke celebrated by Plutarch and Longinus. // was not 
 7, said he, that moved for this law: It was the necessities of' 
 war ; it was the battle of Cheer onea. The orations of De- 
 mosthenes abound with many instances of trials of this na- 
 ture, and prove clearly, that nothing was more commonly 
 practised. 
 
 The Athenian Democracy was such a tumultuous go- 
 vernment as we can scarcely form a notion of in the pre- 
 sent age of the world. The whole collective body of the 
 people voted in every law, without any limitation of pro- 
 perty, without any distinction of rank, without control 
 from any magistracy or senate b ; and consequently with- 
 out regard to order, justice, or prudence. The Athenians 
 soon became sensible of the mischiefs attending this con- 
 stitution : But being averse to checking themselves by any 
 rule or restriction, they resolved, at least, to check their 
 
 a Plutarchusin vita Decern Oratorum. Demosthenes gives a different ac- 
 count of this law. Contra Aristogiton, orat. II. He says, that its purport 
 was, to render the ari/u.oi ittitiuoi, or to restore the privilege of hearing offi- 
 ces in those who had been declared incapable. Perhaps these were both 
 clauses of the same law. 
 
 h The senate of the Bean was only a less numerous mob, chosen by lot 
 iVom among the people ; and their authority was not great,
 
 366 ESSAY X. 
 
 demagogues or counsellors, by the fear of future punish- 
 ment and inquiry. They accordingly instituted this re- 
 markable law j a law esteemed so essential to their form of 
 government, that iEschines insists on it as a known truth, 
 that, were it abolished or neglected, it were impossible for 
 the Democracy to subsist a . 
 
 The people feared not any ill consequence to liberty from 
 the authority of the criminal courts ; because these were 
 nothing but very numerous juries, chosen by lot from a- 
 mong the people. And they justly considered themselves 
 as in a state of perpetual pupilage ; where they had an au- 
 thority, after they came to the use of reason, not only to 
 retract and control whatever had been determined, but 
 to punish any guardian for measures which they had em- 
 braced by his persuasion. The same law had place in 
 Thebes b , and for the same reason. 
 
 It appears to have been a u^ual practice in Athens, on 
 the establishment of any law esteemed very useful or po- 
 pular, to prohibit for ever its abrogation and repeal. 
 
 Thus the demagogue, who diverted all the public reve- 
 nues to the support of shows and spectacles, made it cri- 
 minal so much as to move for a repeal of this law c . Thus 
 Leptines moved for a law, not only to recall all the immu- 
 nities formerly granted, but to deprive the people for the 
 future of the power of granting any more d . Thus all bills 
 of attainder c were forbid, or laws that affected one Athe- 
 
 3 In Ctesiphontem. It is remarkable, that the first step after the dissolu- 
 tion of the Democracy by Critias and the thirty, was to annul the yftc'-n 
 Tfxpctvoy.xv, as we learn from Demosthenes hxtx 1t/j.oy.. The orator in this 
 oration gives us the words of the law, establishing the y?'x$n xxpxvtfrLvv, 
 ,)age 297. ex edit. Aldi. And he accounts for it from the same principles 
 we here reason upon. 
 
 h Plut. in vita Pelop. Demost. Olynth. 1, 2. 
 
 * Demost. contra Lept. r Demost. contra Aristocratem.
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 367 
 
 nian, without extending to the whole commonwealth. 
 These absurd clauses, by which the legislature vainly at- 
 tempted to bind itself lor ever, proceeded from an uni- 
 versal sense in the people of their own levity and incon- 
 stancy. 
 
 II. A wheel within a wheel, such as we observe in the 
 German empire, is considered by Lord Shaftesbury a as 
 an absurdity in politics : But what must we say to equal 
 wheels, which govern the same political machine, without 
 any mutual check, control, or subordination ; and yet pre- 
 serve the greatest harmony and concord ? To establish two 
 distinct legislatures, each of which possesses full and abso- 
 lute authority within itself, and stands in no need of the 
 other's assistance, in order to give validity to its acts ; this 
 may appear, beforehand, altogether impracticable, as long 
 as men are actuated by the passions of ambition, emula- 
 tion, and avarice, which have hitherto been their chief go- 
 verning principles. And should I assert, that the state I 
 have in my eye was divided into two distinct factions, each 
 of which predominated in a distinct legislature, and yet 
 produced no clashing in these independent powers ; the 
 supposition may appear incredible. And if, to augment 
 the paradox, I should affirm, that this disjointed, irregular 
 government, was the most active, triumphant, and illus- 
 trious commonwealth that ever yet appeared; I should 
 certainly be* told, that such a political chimera was as ab- 
 surd as any vi-ion of priests or poets. But there is no need 
 for searching long, in order to prove the reality of the fore- 
 going suppositions : For this was actually the case with the 
 Roman republic. 
 
 The legislative power was there lodged in the comitia 
 
 - Kpsay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour, Part 3. $ 2,
 
 368 ESSAY X. 
 
 ccnturiata and comitia iributa. In the former, it is well 
 known, the people voted according' to their census ; so that 
 when the first class was unanimous, though it contained 
 not, perhaps, the hundredth part of the commonwealth, it 
 determined the whole ; and, with the authority of the se- 
 nate, established a law. In the latter, every vote was equal ; 
 and as the authority of the senate was not there requisite, 
 the lower people entirely prevailed, and gave law to the 
 whole state. In all party-divisions, at first between the 
 Patricians and Plebeians, afterwards between the nobles 
 and the people, the interest of the aristocracy was predo- 
 minant in the first legislature ; that of the democracy in 
 the second : The one could always destroy what the other 
 had established : Nay, the one by a sudden and unforeseen 
 motion, might take the start of the other, and totally an- 
 nihilate its rival, by a vote, which, from the nature of the 
 constitution, had the full authority of a law. But no such 
 contest is observed in the history of Rome : No instance 
 of a quarrel between these two legislatures; though many 
 between the parties that governed in each. Whence arose 
 this concord, which may seem so extraordinary ? 
 
 The legislature established in Rome, by the authority 
 of Servius Tullius, was the comitia ceuturiata, which, after 
 the expulsion of the kings, rendered the government for 
 some time very aristocratical. But the people, having 
 numbers and force on their side, and being elated with 
 frequent conquests and victories in their foreign wars, al- 
 ways prevailed when pushed to extremity, and first ex- 
 torted from the senate the magistracy of the tribunes, and 
 next the legislative power of the comitia iributa. It then 
 behoved the nobles to be more careful than ever not to 
 provoke the people. For beside the force which the lat- 
 ter were always possessed of, they had now got possession 
 
 1
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 369 
 
 of legal authority, and could instantly break in pieces any 
 order or institution which directly opposed them. By in- 
 trigue, by influence, by money, by combination, and by 
 the respect paid to their character, the nobles might often 
 prevail, and direct the whole machine of government : 
 But had they openly set their comitia centuriata in oppo- 
 sition to the tributa, they had soon lost the advantage of 
 that institution, together with their consuls, praetors, ediles, 
 and all the magistrates elected by it. But the comitia tri- 
 buta, not having the same reason for respecting the cen- 
 turiata, frequently repealed laws favourable to the aristo- 
 cracy : They limited the authority of the nobles, protected 
 the people from oppression, and controlled the actions of 
 the senate and magistracy. The centuriata found it con- 
 venient always to submit ; and though ecpjal in authority, 
 yet being inferior in power, durst never directly give any 
 shock to the other legislature, either by repealing its laws, 
 or establishing laws which it foresaw would soon be re- 
 pealed by it. 
 
 No instance is found of any opposition or struggle be- 
 tween these comitia, except one slight attempt of this kind, 
 mentioned by Appian in the third book of his civil wars. 
 Mark Antony, resolving to deprive Decimus Brutus of 
 the government of Cisalpine Gaul, railed in the Forum, 
 and called one of the comitia, in order to prevent the 
 meeting of the other, which had been ordered by the se- 
 nate. But affairs were then fallen into such confusion, 
 and the Roman constitution was so near its final dissulu« 
 tion, that no inference can be drawn from such an expe- 
 dient. This contest, besides, was founded more on form 
 than party. It was the senate who ordered the comitia hi- 
 buta, that they might obstruct the meeting of the centuria- 
 
 VOL. I. 2 B
 
 " , ESSAY X. 
 
 ia.) which, by the constitution, or at least forms of the go- 
 vernment, could alone dispose of provinces. 
 
 Cicero was recalled by the comitia centuriata, though 
 banished by the tributa, that is, by & plebiscitum. But his 
 banishment, we may observe, never was considered as a 
 legal deed, arising from the free choice and inclination of 
 the people. It was always ascihed to the violence alone 
 of Clodius, and to the disoiders introduced by him into 
 the government. 
 
 III. The third custom, which we purpose to remark, 
 regards England ; though it be not so important as tiiose 
 which we have pointed out in Athens and Rome, is no loss 
 singular and unexpected. It is a maxim in politics, which 
 we readily admit as undisputed and universal, that a power, 
 however great, when granted by law to an eminent ma- 
 gistrate, is not so dangerous to liberty, as an authority, 
 however inconsiderable, which he acquires from violence 
 and usurpation. For, besides that the law always limits 
 every power which ir bestows, the very receiving it as a 
 concession establishes the authority whence it is derived, 
 and preserves the harmony of the constitution. By the 
 same right that one prerogative is assumed without law, 
 another may also be claimed, and another, with still great- 
 er facility ; while the first usurpations both serve as prece- 
 dents to the following, and give force to maintain them. 
 Hence the heroism of Hampden's conduct, who sustained 
 the whole violence of royal prosecution, rather than pay a 
 tax of twenty shillings not imposed by parliament; hence 
 the care of all the English patriots to guard against the 
 first encroachments of the crown : and hence alone the ex- 
 istence, at this day, of English liberty. 
 
 There is, however, one occasion, where the parliament 
 has departed from this maxim : and that is, in ihe jmss
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 371 
 
 ing of seamen. The exercise of an irregular power is here 
 tacitly permitted in the crown ; and though it has fre- 
 quently been under deliberation how that power might be 
 rendered legal, and granted, under proper restrictions, to 
 the sovereign, no safe expedient could ever be proposed 
 for that purpose, and the danger to liberty always appear- 
 ed greater from law than from usurpation. When this 
 power is exercised to no other end than to man the navy, 
 men willingly submit to it from a sense of its use and ne- 
 cessity ; and the sailors, who are alone affected by it, find 
 no body to support them, in claiming the rights and pri- 
 vileges which the law grants, without distinction, to all 
 English subjects. But were this power, on any occasion, 
 made an instrument of faction or ministerial tyranny, the 
 opposite faction, and indeed all lovers of their country, 
 would immediately take the alarm, and support the in- 
 jured party ; the liberty of Englishmen would be asserted ; 
 juries would be implacable; and the tools of tyranny, act- 
 ing both against law and equity, would meet with the se- 
 verest vengeance. On the other hand, were the parlia- 
 ment to grant such an authority, they would probably fall 
 into one of these two inconveniences. They would either 
 bestow it under so many restrictions as would make it lose 
 its effect, by cramping the authority of the crown ; or they 
 would render it so large and comprehensive, as might give 
 occasion to great abuses, for which we could, in that case, 
 have no remedy. The very irregularity of the practice at 
 present prevents its abuses, by affording so easy a remedy 
 against them. 
 
 I pretend not, by this reasoning, to exclude all possi- 
 bility of contriving a register for seamen, which might 
 man the navy, without being dangerous to liberty. I only 
 observe, that no satisfactory scheme of that nature has yet
 
 372 ESSAY X. 
 
 been proposed. Rather than adopt any project hitherto 
 invented, we continue a practice seemingly the most ab- 
 surd and unaccountable. Authority, in times of full in- 
 ternal peace and concord, is armed against law. A con- 
 tinued violence is permitted in the crown, amidst the great- 
 est jealousy and watchfulness in the people; nay, pro- 
 ceeding from those very principles. Liberty, in a country 
 of the highest liberty, is left entirely to its own defence, 
 without any countenance or protection. The wild state 
 of nature is renewed, in one of the most civilized societies 
 of mankind ; and great violence and disorder are com- 
 mitted with impunity j while the one party pleads obe- 
 dience to the supreme magistrate, the other the sanction 
 of fundamental laws.
 
 ESSAY XL 
 
 OF THE POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 
 
 J here is very little ground, either from reason or ob- 
 servation, to conclude the world eternal or incorruptible. 
 The continual and rapid motion of matter, the violent re- 
 volutions with which every part is agitated, the changes 
 remarked in the heavens, the plain traces as well as tra- 
 dition of an universal deluge, or general convulsion of the 
 elements ; all these prove strongly the mortality of this fa- 
 bric of the world, and its passage, by corruption or dis- 
 solution, from one state or order to another. It must 
 therefore, as well as each individual form which it con- 
 tains, have its infancy, youth, manhood, and old age ; and 
 it is probable, that in all these variations, man, equally 
 with every animal and vegetable, will partake. In the 
 flourishing age of the world, it may be expected, that the 
 human species should possess greater vigour both of mind 
 and body, more prosperous health, higher spirits, longer 
 life, and a stronger inclination and power of generation. 
 But if the general system of things, and human society of 
 course, have any such gradual revolutions, they are too 
 slow to be discernible in that short period which is com- 
 prehended by history and tradition. Stature and force of 
 body, length of life, even courage and extent of genius, 
 seem hitherto to have been naturally, in all ages, pretty
 
 374 ESSAY XI. 
 
 much the same. The arts and sciences, indeed, have 
 flourished in one period, and have decayed in another; 
 but we may observe, that at the time when they rose to 
 greatest perfection among one people, they were perhaps 
 totally unknown to all the neighbouring nations; and 
 though they universally decayed in one age, yet in a suc- 
 ceeding generation they again revived, and diffused them- 
 selves over the world. As far, therefore, as observation 
 reaches, there is no universal difference discernible in the 
 human species ; and though it were allowed, that the uni- 
 verse, like an animal body, had a natural progress from 
 infancy to old age, yet as it must still be uncertain, whe- 
 ther, at present, it be advancing to its point of perfection, 
 or declining from it, we cannot thence presuppose any de- 
 cay in human nature 11 . To prove, therefore, or account 
 for that superior populousness of antiquity, which is com- 
 monly supposed, by the imaginary youth or vigour of the 
 world, will scarcely be admitted by any just reasoner. 
 These general physical causes ought entirely to be exclu- 
 ded from this question. 
 
 There are indeed some more particular physical causes 
 of importance. Diseases are mentioned in antiquity, 
 which are almost unknown to modern medicine; and new 
 diseases have arisen and propagated themselves, of which 
 there are no traces in ancient history. In this particular 
 we may observe, upon comparison, that the disadvantage 
 is much on the side of the moderns. Mot to mention 
 some others of less moment, the small-pox commits such 
 ravages, as would almost alone account for the great su- 
 periority ascribed to ancient times. The tenth or the 
 twelfth part of mankind destroyed, every generation, should 
 
 * See Note [ T.]
 
 POPULOUSNESS OP ANCIENT NATIONS. 375 
 
 make a vast difference, it may be thought, in the numbers 
 of the people ; and when joined to venereal distempers, a 
 new plague diffused every where, this disease is perhaps 
 equivalent, by its constant operation, to the three great 
 scourges of mankind, war, pestilence, and famine. Were 
 it certain, therefore, that ancient times were more popu- 
 lous than the present, and could no moral causes be as- 
 signed for so great a change, these physical causes alone, 
 in the opinion of many, would be sufficient to give us satis- 
 faction on that head. 
 
 But is it certain, that antiquity was so much more po- 
 pulous, as is pretended ? The extravagances of Yossius, 
 with regard to this subject, are well known. But an author 
 of much greater genius and discernment has ventured to 
 affirm, that according to the best computations which these 
 subjects will admit of, there are not now, on the face of the 
 earth, the fiftieth part of mankind, which existed in the 
 time of Julius Caesar a . It may easily be observed, that the 
 comparison, in this case, must be imperfect, even though 
 we confine ourselves to the scene of ancient history ; Eu- 
 rope, and the nations round the Mediterranean. We 
 know not exactly the numbers of any European kingdom, 
 or even city, at present : How can we pretend to calculate 
 those of ancient cities and states, where historians have left 
 us such imperfect traces ? For my part, the matter appears 
 to me so uncertain, that, as I intend to throw together 
 some reflections on that head, I shall intermingle the in- 
 quiry concerning causes with that concemmg facts ,• which 
 ought never to be admitted, where the facts can be ascer- 
 tained with any tolerable assurance. We shall, Jtrst t con- 
 sider whether it be probable, from what we know of the 
 
 4 Lcttres Pcrsancs. See also L'Esprit des Loix, Uv. xxn'i. cap. 1 7, 1 8, 1 9.
 
 376 ESSAY XI. 
 
 situation of society in both periods, that antiquity must 
 have been more populous ; secondly, whether in reality it 
 was so. If I can make it appear, that the conclusion is 
 not so certain as is pretended, in favour of antiquity, it is 
 all I aspire to. 
 
 In general, we may observe, that the question with re- 
 gard to the comparative populousncss of ages or kingdoms, 
 implies important consequences, and commonly determines 
 concerning the preference of their whole police, their man- 
 ners, and the constitution of their government. For as 
 there is in all men, both male and female, a desire and 
 power of generation, more active than is ever universally 
 exerted, the restraints which they lie under must proceed 
 from some difficulties in their situation, which it belongs 
 to a wise legislature carefully to observe and remove. Al- 
 most every man, who thinks he can maintain a family, 
 will have one ; and the human species, at this rate of pro- 
 pagation, would more than double every generation. How 
 fast do mankind multiply in every colony or new settle- 
 ment; where it is an easy matter to provide for a family ; 
 and where men arc nowise straitened or confined as in 
 long established governments ? History tells us frequently 
 of plagues which have swept away the third or fourth part 
 of a people ; yet in a generation or two, the destruction 
 was not perceived, and the society had again acquired 
 their former number. The lands which were cultivated, 
 the houses built, the commodities raised, the riches ac- 
 quired, enabled the people, who escaped, immediately to 
 marry and to rear families, which supplied the place of those 
 who had perished a . And, for a like reason, every wise, 
 
 * This too is a good reason why the small-pox does not depopulate coun- 
 tries so much as may at first sight be imagined. Where there is room fo*
 
 FOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 377 
 
 $ust, and mild government, by rendering the condition of 
 its subject easy and secure, will always abound most in 
 people, as well as in commodities and riches. A country, 
 indeed, whose climate and soil are fitted for vines, will na- 
 turallv be more populous than one which produces corn 
 only, and that more populous than one which is only fitted 
 for pasturage. In general, warm climates, as the necessi- 
 ties of the inhabitants are there fewer, and vegetation 
 more powerful, are likely to be most populous : But if every 
 thing else be equal, it seems natural to expect that, where- 
 ever there are most happiness and virtue, and the wisest 
 institutions, there will also be most people. 
 
 The question, therefore, concerning the populousness 
 of ancient and modern times, being allowed of great im- 
 portance, it will be requisite, if we would bring it to some 
 determination, to compare both the domestic and political 
 situation of these two periods, in order to judge of the facts 
 by their moral causes ; which is thejlrst view in which we 
 proposed to consider them. 
 
 The chief difference between the domestic economy of 
 the ancients and that of the moderns, consists in the prac- 
 tice of slavery, which prevailed among the former, and 
 which has been abolished for some centuries throughout 
 the greater part of Europe. Some passionate admirers of 
 the ancients, and zealous partisans of civil liberty, (for these 
 sentiments, as they are, both of them, in the main, ex- 
 tremely just, are found to be almost inseparable), cannot 
 forbear regretting the loss of this institution ; and whilst 
 they brand all submission to the government of a single 
 
 more people, they will always arise, even without the assistance of natu- 
 ralization bills. It is remarked by Don Geronimo De Ustariz, that the 
 provinces of Spain, which send most people to the Indies, are most popu- 
 lous ; which proceeds from their superior richtts.
 
 378 ESSAY XI. 
 
 person with the harsh denomination of slavery, they would 
 gladly reduce the greater part of mankind to real sla- 
 very and subjection. But to one who considers coolly on 
 the subject, it will appear, that human nature, in general, 
 really enjoys more liberty at present, in the most arbitrary 
 government of Europe, than it ever did during the most 
 flourishing period of ancient times. As much as sub- 
 mission to a petty prince, whose dominions extend net be- 
 yond a -ingle city, is more grievous than obedience to a 
 great monarch ; so much is domestic slavery more cruel 
 and oppressive than any civil subjection whatsoever. The 
 more the master is removed from us in place and rank, 
 the greater liberty we enjoy ; the less are our actions in- 
 spected and controlled; and the fainter that cruel com- 
 parison becomes between our own subjection, mid the free- 
 dom, and even dominion of another. The remains which 
 arc found of domestic slavery, in the American colonies, 
 and among some European nations, would never surely 
 create a desire of rendering it more universal. The little 
 humanity, commonly observed in persons, accustomed, 
 from their infancy, to exercise so great authority over their 
 fellow creatures, and to trample upon human nature, were 
 sufficient alone to disgust us with that unbounded dominion. 
 Nor can a more probable reason be assigned for the severe, 
 1 might say, barbarous manners of ancient times, than the 
 practice of domestic shivery; by which every man of rank 
 was rendered a petty tyrant, and educated amidst the flat- 
 tery, submission, and low debasement of his slaves. 
 
 According to ancient practice, all checks were on the 
 inferior, to restrain him to the duty of submission ; none 
 on the superior, to engage him to the reciprocal duties of 
 gentleness and humanity. In modern times, a bad servant 
 finds not easily a good master, nor a bad master a good
 
 TOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 379 
 
 servant ; and the checks are mutual, suitably to the inviola- 
 ble and eternal laws of reason and equity. 
 
 The custom of exposing old, useless, or sick slaves in an 
 island of the Tyber, there to starve, seems to have been 
 pretty common in Rome ; and whoever recovered; after ha- 
 ving been so exposed, had his liberty given hun by an 
 edict of the Emperor Claudius ; in which it was likewise 
 forbidden to kill any slave merely for old age or sickness a . 
 But supposing that this edict was strictly obeyed, would 
 it better the domestic treatment of slaves, or render their 
 lives much more comfortable ? We may imagine what 
 others would practise, when it was the professed maxim of 
 the elder Cato, to sell his superannuated slaves for any 
 price, rather than maintain what he esteemed a useless bur- 
 den b . 
 
 The ergastula, or dungeons, where slaves in chains were 
 forced to work, were very common all over Italy. Colu- 
 mella c advises, that they be always built under ground ; 
 and recommends d it as the duty of a careful overseer, to 
 call over every day the names of these slaves, like the mus- 
 tering of a regiment or ship's company, in order to know 
 presently when any of them had deserted ; * a proof of the 
 frequency of these ergastula, and of the great number of 
 slaves usually confined in them. 
 
 A chained slave for a porter was usual in Rome, as ap- 
 pears from Ovid e , and other authors f . Had not these 
 people shaken off all sense of compassion towards that un- 
 happy part of their species, would they have presented 
 
 * Suetonius in vita Claudii. k Plut- in vita Catonis. 
 
 * Lib. i. cap. G. d Lib. xi. cap. I. 
 
 * Amor. lib. i. eleg. 6. 
 
 ( Sueton. de Claris Rhetor. So also tlie ancient poet, Janitoris tintinnm 
 impedimenta audit.
 
 3S0 ESSAY XI. 
 
 their friends, at the first entrance, with such an image of 
 the severity of the master and misery of the slave ? 
 
 Nothing so common in all trials, even of civil causes, as 
 to call for the evidence of slaves ; which was always extort- 
 ed by the most exquisite torments. Demosthenes says a , 
 that, where it was possible to produce, for the same fact, 
 either freemen or slaves, as witnesses, the judges always 
 preferred the torturing of slaves, as a more certain evi- 
 dence b . 
 
 Seneca draws a picture of that disorderly luxury, which 
 changes day into night, and night into day, and inverts 
 every stated hour of every office in life. Among other 
 circumstances, such as displacing the meals and times of 
 bathing, he mentions, that, regularly about the third hour 
 of the night, the neighbours of one, who indulges this false 
 refinement, hear the noise of whips and lashes ; and, upon 
 inquiry, find that he is then taking an account of the con- 
 duct of his servants, and giving them due correction and 
 discipline. This is not remarked as an instance of cruel- 
 ty, but only of disorder, which, even in actions the most 
 usual and methodical, changes the fixed hours that an es- 
 tablished custom had assigned for them c . 
 
 But our present business is only to consider the influ- 
 ence of slavery on the populousness of a state. It is pre- 
 tended, that, in this particular, the ancient practice had 
 infinitely the advantage, and was the chief cause of that 
 extreme populousness, which is supposed in those times. 
 At present, all masters discourage the marrying of their 
 male servants, and admit not by any means the marriage 
 
 a In Oniterem Orat. 1. 
 
 b The same practice was very common in Rome ; but Cicero seems not 
 to think this evidence so certain as the testimony of free-citizens. Pro Ctel'w. 
 e See Noir. [CM
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 381 
 
 of the female, who are then supposed altogether incapa- 
 citated tor their service. But where the property of the 
 servants is lodged in the master, their marriage forms his 
 riches, and bring? him a succession of slaves, that supply 
 the place of those whom age and infirmity have disabled. 
 He encourages, therefore, their propagation as much as 
 that of his cattle ; rears the young with the same care ; 
 and educates them to some art or calling, which may ren- 
 der them more useful or valuable to him. The opulent 
 are, by this policy, interested in the being at least, though 
 not in the well-being of the poor ; and enrich themselves 
 by increasing the number and industry of those who are 
 subjected to them. Each man, being a sovereign in his 
 own family, has the same interest with regard to it, as the 
 prince with regard to the state ; and has not, like the 
 prince, any opposite motives of ambition or vain-glory, 
 which may lead him to depopulate his little sovereignty. 
 All of it is, at all times, under his eye ; and he has leisure 
 to inspect the most minute detail of the marriage and edu- 
 cation of his subjects a. 
 
 Such are the consequences of domestic slavery, accord- 
 ing to the first aspect and appearance of things : But if 
 we enter more deeply into the subject, we shall perhaps 
 find reason to retract our hasty determinations. The 
 comparison is shocking between the management of human 
 creatures and that of cattle ; but being extremely just, 
 
 a We may here observe, that if domestic slavery really increased popu- 
 lousness, it would be an exception to the general rule, that the happiness of 
 any society and its populousness are necessary attendants A master, from 
 humour or interest, may make his slaves very unhappy, yet be careful, from 
 interest, to increase their number. Their marriage is not a matter of choice 
 to them, more than any other action of their life.
 
 382 ESSAY XI. 
 
 when applied to the present subject, it may be proper to 
 trace the consequences of it. At the capital, near all great 
 cities, in all populous, rich, industrious, provinces, few cat- 
 tle are bred. Provisions, lodgings, attendance, labour are 
 there dear ; and men find their account better in buying 
 the cattle, after they come to a certain age, from the re- 
 moter and cheaper countries. These are consequently the 
 only breeding countries for cattle ; and, by a pamy of 
 reason, for men too, when the latter are put on the same 
 footing with the former. To rear a child in London, till 
 he could be serviceable, would cost much dealer than to 
 buy one of the same age from Scotland or Ireland, where 
 he had been bred in a cottage, covered with rags, and fed 
 on oatmeal and potatoes. Those who had slaves, there- 
 fore, in all the richer and more populous countries, would 
 discourage the pregnancy of the females, and either pre- 
 vent or destroy the birth. The human species would pe- 
 rish in those places where it ought to increase the fastest; 
 and a perpetual recruit be wanted from the poorer and 
 more desert provinces. Such a continued drain would 
 tend mightily to depopulate the state, and render great 
 cities ten times more destructive than with us ; where eve- 
 ry man is master of himself, and provides for his children 
 from the powerful instinct of nature, not the calculations 
 of sordid interest. If London, at present, without much 
 increasing, needs a yearly recruit from the country of 5000 
 people, as is usually computed, what must it require, if the 
 greater part of the tradesmen and common people were 
 slaves, and were hindered from breeding by their avari- 
 cious masters ? 
 
 All ancient authors tell us, that there was a perpetual 
 (lux of slaves to Italy, from the remoter provinces, parti-
 
 I'OPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 38U 
 
 cularly Syria, Cilicia % Cappadocia, aDd the Lesser Asia, 
 Thrace, and Egypt: Yet the number of people did not 
 increase in Italy ; and writers complain of the continual 
 decay of industry and agriculture '. Where then is that 
 extreme fertility of the Roman slaves, which is commonly 
 supposed ? So far from multiplying, they could not, it seems, 
 so much as keep up the stock without immense recruits. 
 And though great numbers were continually manumitted 
 and converted into Roman citizens, the numbers even of 
 these did not increase c , till the freedom ol the city was 
 communicated to foreign provinces. 
 
 The term for a slave, born and bred in the family, was 
 verna d ; and these slaves seem to have been entitled by cus- 
 tom to privileges and indulgences beyond others; a suffi- 
 cient reason whv the masters would not be fond of rearing 
 many of that kind e . Whoever is acquainted with the 
 maxims of our planters, will acknowledge the justness of 
 this observation e . 
 
 ■ Ten thousand slaves in a day have often been sold for the use of the Ro- 
 mans, at Delus in Cilicia Strabo, lib. xiv. 
 
 b Columella, lib. !. procem, et cap. 2. et 7. Varro, lib. iii. cap, 1. Horat. 
 lib. ii. od. 15. Tacit. Annal. lib. iii. cap. 54. Sueton. in vita Aug. cap. xlii. 
 Plin. lib. xviii. cap. 13. 
 
 r Minorc indies pi ebe ingenua, says Tacitus, Ann, lib. xxiv. cap. 7. 
 
 d See Note [X.] 
 
 c ' Verna is used by Roman writers as a word equivalent to scurra, on ac- 
 count of the petulance and impudence of those slaves. Mart. lib. i. ep. 42. 
 Horace also mentions the vernce procures : and Petronius, cap. 21. vernula 
 urbanitas. Seneca, De Provicl. cap. i. vernularum licentia. 
 
 f It is computed in the West Indies, that a stock of slaves grow worse 
 five per cent, every year, unless new slaves be bought to recruit tiiem. They 
 are not able to keep up their number, even in those warm countries, where 
 clothes and provisions are so easily got. How much more must this happen 
 in European countries, and in or near great cities ? I shall add, that, from 
 the experience of our planters, slavery ii as little advantageous to die master 
 as to the slave, wherever hired servants can be procured. A man is obliged 
 to clothe and feed his slave; and he does no more for his servant : The price
 
 58* ESSAY XI. 
 
 Atticus is much praised by his historian, for the care 
 which he took in recruiting his family from the slaves born 
 in it a : May we not thence infer, that this practice was not 
 then very common ? 
 
 The names of slaves in the Greek comedies, Syrus, 
 Mysus, Geta, Thrax, Davius, Lydus, Fhryx, &c. af- 
 ford a presumption, that, at Athens at least, most of the 
 slaves were imported from foreign countries. The Athe- 
 nians, says Strabo '>, gave to their slaves, either the names 
 of the nations whence they were brought, as Lydus, Sy- 
 rus ; or the names that were most common among those 
 nations, as Manes, or Midas, to a Phrygian, Tibias to a 
 Paphlagomian. 
 
 Demosthenes, having mentioned a law which forbad 
 any man to strike the slave of another, praises the huma- 
 nity of this law; and adds, that if the barbarians, from 
 whom the slaves were bought, had information that their 
 countrymen met with such gentle treatment, they would 
 entertain a great esteem for the Athenians c . Isocrates d 
 too insinuates, that the slaves of the Greeks were general- 
 ly or very commonly barbarians. Aristotle in his politics e 
 plainly supposes, that a slave is always a foreigner. The 
 ancient comic writers represented the slaves as speaking a 
 barbarous language { . This was an imitation of nature. 
 
 of the first purchase is, therefore, so much loss to him : not to mention, that 
 the fear of punishment will never draw so much lahour irom a slave, as the 
 dread of being turned off, and not getting another service, will from a freeman. 
 
 a Corn. Nepos in vita Attici. We may remark, that Atticus's estate lay 
 chiefly in Epirus. which being a remote, desolate place, would render it pro. 
 fitable for him to rear slaves there. 
 
 b Lib. vii. c In Midiam, p. 221. ex edit. Aid:. 
 
 d Pancgyr. e Lib. vii. cap. 10. sub fin. 
 
 f Aristoph. Equites, I. 17. The ancient scholiast remarks on this passage 
 BxpGzft^ti a; Jo',Xcf.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 385 
 
 It is well known that Demosthenes, in his nonage, had 
 been defrauded of a large fortune by his tutors, and that 
 afterwards he recovered, by a prosecution at law, the value 
 of his patrimony. His orations, on that occasion, still re- 
 main, and contain an exact detail of the whole substance 
 left by his father a , in money, merchandise, houses, and 
 slaves, together with the value of each particular. Among 
 the rest were 52 slaves, handicraftsmen, namely, 32 sword- 
 cutlers, and 20 cabinet-makers 5 ; all males ; not a word 
 of any wives, children, or family, which they certainly 
 would have had, had it been a common practice at Athens 
 to breed from the slaves ; and the value of the whole must 
 have much depended on that circumstance. No female 
 slaves are even so much as mentioned, except some house- 
 maids, who belonged to his mother. This argument has 
 great force, if it be not altogether conclusive. 
 
 Consider this passage of Plutarch c , speaking of the El- 
 der Cato : " He had a great number of slaves, whom he 
 took care to buy at the sales of prisoners of war ; and he 
 chose them young, that they might easily be accustomed 
 to any diet or manner of life, and be instructed in any bu- 
 siness or labour, as men teach any thing to young dogs or 
 horses. — And esteeming love the chief source of all disor- 
 ders, he allowed the male slaves to have a commerce with 
 the female in his family, upon paying a certain sum for 
 this privilege : But he strictly prohibited all intrigues out 
 of his family." Are there any symptoms in this narration 
 of that care which is supposed in the ancients of the mar- 
 riage and propagation of their slaves ? If that was a com- 
 mon practice, founded on general interest, it would surely 
 
 a In Amphobum, Orat. i. 
 
 h Kkivoxoio, makers of those beds which the ancients lay upon at meals. 
 
 ' In vita Catonis. 
 
 VOL. I. 2 c
 
 386 ESSAY XI. 
 
 have been embraced by Cato, who was a great economist, 
 and lived in times when the ancient frugality and simplici- 
 ty of manners were still in credit and reputation. 
 
 It is expressly remarked by the writers of the Roman 
 law, that scarcely any ever purchased slaves with a view of 
 breeding from them a . 
 
 Our lackeys and house-maids, I own, do not serve much 
 to multiply their species : But the ancients, besides those 
 who attended on their person, had almost all their labour 
 performed, and even manufactures executed by slaves, who 
 lived, many of them, in their family ; and some great men 
 possessed to the number of 10,000. If there be any sus- 
 picion, therefore, that this institution was unfavourable to 
 propagation (and the same reason, at least in part, holds 
 with regard to ancient slaves as modern servants), how 
 destructive must slavery have proved ? 
 
 History mentions a Roman nobleman, who had 400 
 slaves under the same roof with him : And having been 
 assassinated at home by the furious revenge of one of them, 
 the law was executed with rigour, and all without excep- 
 tion were put to death b . Many other Roman noblemen 
 had families equally, or more numerous ; and I believe 
 every one will allow, that this would scarcely be practica- 
 ble, were we to suppose all the slaves married, and the fe- 
 males to be breeders c . 
 
 So early as the poet Hesiod d , married slaves, whether 
 male or female, were esteemed inconvenient. How much 
 
 a See Note [Y.] b Tacit. Ann. xiv. cap. 43. 
 
 c The slaves in the great houses had little rooms assigned them called 
 celltv. "Whence the name of cell was transferred to the monk's room in a 
 convent See farther on this head. Just. Lipsius, Saturn, i. cap. 14. These 
 form strong presumptions against the marriage and propagation of the familj 
 slaves. 
 
 d Opera et Dies, lib. ii. 1. 24. also 1. 220.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 387 
 
 more, where families had increased to such an enormous 
 size as in Rome, and where the ancient simplicity of man- 
 ners was banished from all ranks of people? 
 
 Xenophon in his Oeconomics, where he gives directions 
 for the management of a farm, recommends a strict care 
 and attention of laying the male and the female slaves at a 
 distance from each other. He seems not to suppose that 
 they are ever married. The only slaves among the Greeks 
 that appear to have continued their own race, were the 
 Helotes, who had houses apart, and were more the slaves 
 of the public than of individuals a. 
 
 The same author b tells us, that Nicias's overseer, by 
 agreement with his master, was obliged to pay him an obo- 
 lus a-day for each slave ; besides maintaining them and 
 keeping up the number. Had the ancient slaves been all 
 breeders, this last circumstance of the contract had been 
 superfluous^ 
 
 The ancients talk so frequently of a fixed, stated portion 
 of provisions assigned to each slave c , that we are naturally 
 led to conclude, that slaves lived almost all single, and re- 
 ceived that portion as a kind of board-wages. 
 
 The practice, indeed, of marrying slaves, seems not to 
 have been very common, even among the country labour- 
 ers, where it is more naturally to be expected. Cato d , 
 enumerating the slaves requisite to labour a vineyard of a 
 hundred acres, makes them amount to 15 ; the overseer 
 and his wife, villicus and villica y and 13 male slaves; for 
 an olive plantation of 240 acres, the overseer and his wife, 
 and 1 1 male slaves ; and so in proportion to a greater or 
 less plantation or vineyard. 
 
 a Strabo. lib. viii. h De Ratione Redituum. 
 
 c See Cato De Re Rustica, cap. 56. Donatus in Phormion, ki. c. 9. Se^ 
 necee, Epist. 80. * De Re Rustic, cap. 10, 11
 
 388 ESSAY XI. 
 
 Varro a , quoting this passage of Cato, allows his compu- 
 tation to be just in every respect except the last. For as 
 it is requisite, says he, to have an overseer and his wife, 
 whether the vineyard or plantation be great or small, this 
 must alter the exactness of the proportion. Had Cato's 
 computation been erroneous in any other respect, it had 
 certainly been corrected by Varro, who seems fond of dis- 
 covering; so trivial an error. 
 
 The same author b , as well as Columella c , recommends 
 it as requisite to give a wife to the overseer, in order to at- 
 tach him the more strongly to his master's service. This 
 was therefore a peculiar indulgence granted to a slave, in 
 whom so great confidence was reposed. 
 
 In the same place, Varro mentions it as an useful precau- 
 tion, not to buy too many slaves from the same nation, 
 lest they beget factions and seditions in the family ; a pre- 
 sumption, that in Italy, the greater part, even of the coun- 
 try labouring slaves (for he speaks of no other), were bought 
 from the remoter provinces. A. 11 the world knows, that 
 the family slaves in Home, who were instruments of show 
 and luxury, were commonly imported from the East. Hoc 
 profecerc, says Pliny, speaking of the jealous care of mas- 
 ters, mancipiorum legiones, ct in domo turba externa, ac scr- 
 voritm quoque causa nomenclator adhibendus d . 
 
 It is indeed recommended by Varro c to propagate young 
 shepherds in the family from the old ones. For as gra- 
 zing farms were commonly in remote and cheap places, and 
 each shepherd lived in a cottage apart, his marriage and in- 
 crease were not liable to the same inconveniences as in 
 dearer places, and where many servants lived in the fami- 
 
 ■ Lib. i. cap. 18. b Lib. i. cup. 17. Lib. i. cap. 18. 
 
 * Lib. xxx iii. cap. 1. So likewise Tacitus, Annal. lib. xiv. cap. 44. 
 ' Lib. ii. cap. 10.
 
 POPUfcOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS, 38£> 
 
 ]y : which was universally the case in such of the Roman 
 farms as produced wine or corn. If we consider this ex- 
 ception with regard to shepherds, and weigh the reasons 
 of it, it will serve for a strong confirmation of all our fore- 
 going suspicions a . 
 
 Columella 5 , I own, advises the master to give a reward, 
 and even liberty to a female slave, that had reared him a- 
 bove three children ; a proof that sometimes the ancients 
 propagated from their slaves, which indeed cannot be de- 
 nied. Were it otherwise, the practice of slavery, being so 
 common in antiquity, must have been destructive to a de- 
 gree which no expedient could repair. All I pretend to 
 infer from these reasonings is, that slavery is in general dis- 
 advantageous both to the happiness and populousness of 
 mankind, and that its place is much better supplied by the 
 practice of hired servants. 
 
 The laws, or, as some writers call them, the seditions of 
 the Gracchi, were occasioned by their observing the in- 
 crease of slaves all over Italy, and the diminution of free 
 citizens. Appian c ascribes this increase to the propaga- 
 tion of the slaves : Plutarch d to the purchasing of barba- 
 rians, who were chained and imprisoned, fixfix^x.* hs-pu- 
 nrvioice, e . It is to be presumed that both causes concurred. 
 
 a Pastoris duri est hie filius, ille bubulci. Juven. Sat. 11. 151. 
 b Lib. i. cap. 8. c De Bell. Civ. lib. i. 
 
 d In Vita Tib. et C. Gracchi. 
 
 e To the same purpose is that passage in the elder Seneca, ex controver- 
 sia, 5. lib. v. " Arata quondam populis rura, singulorum ergastulorum sunt ; 
 " latiusque nunc villici, quam olim reges, imperant." " At nunc eadem," 
 says Pliny, " vincti pedes, damnatse manus, inscripti vultus exercent." Lib. 
 xviii. cap. 3. So also Martial. 
 
 " Et sonet innumera compedc Thuscus agev." Lib ix. ep. 2.7. 
 And Lucan. " Turn longos jungere fines 
 
 " Agrorum, et quondam duro sulcata C'amilli, 
 " Vomere et antiquas Curiorum passa ligoncs,
 
 390 ESSAY XI. 
 
 Sicily, says Florus % was full of crgastula, and was cul- 
 tivated by labourers in chains. Eunus and Atbenio ex- 
 cited the servile war, by breaking up these monstrous pri- 
 sons, and giving iiberty to 60,000 slaves. The younger 
 Pompey augmented his army in Spain by the same expe- 
 dient b . If the country labourers, throughout the Roman 
 empire, were so generally in this situation, and if it was dif- 
 ficult or impossible to find separate lodgings for the fami- 
 lies of the city servants, how unfavourable to propagation, 
 as well as to humanity, must the institution of domestic 
 slavery be esteemed ? 
 
 Constantinople, at present, requires the same recruits of 
 slaves from all the provinces that Rome did of old ; and 
 these provinces are of consequence far from being popu- 
 lous. 
 
 Egypt, according to Mons. Maillet, sends continual co- 
 lonies of black slaves to the other parts of the Turkish em- 
 pire, and receives annually an equal return of white : The 
 one brought from the inland parts of Africa ; the other 
 from Mingrelia, Circassia, and Tartary. 
 
 Our modern convents are, no doubt, bad institutions: 
 But there is reason to suspect, that anciently every great 
 family in Italy, and probably in other parts of the world, 
 was a species of convent. And though we have reason to 
 condemn all those popish institutions, as nurseries of su- 
 perstition, burdensome to the public, and oppressive to the 
 poor prisoners, male as well as female; yet may it be ques- 
 tioned whether they be so destructive to the populousness 
 of a state, as is commonly imagined. Were the land which 
 
 " Longa sub ignotos extcndere rura colonis." Lib. i. 
 
 " Yincto ibisore coluntur 
 " Ilesperiae segetes.'' Lib. vii. 
 
 '' Lib. iii. cap, 15. b Id. lib. iv. cap. 8
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 391 
 
 belongs to a convent bestowed on a nobleman, he would 
 spend its revenue on dogs, horses, grooms, footmen, cooks, 
 and house-maids ; and his family would not furnish many 
 more citizens than the convent. 
 
 The common reason why any parent thrusts his daugh- 
 ters into nunneries, is that he may not be overburdened 
 with too numerous a family ; but the ancients had a me- 
 thod almost as innocent, and more effectual to that purpose, 
 to wit, exposing their children in early infancy. This 
 practice was very common ; and is not spoken of by any 
 author of those times with the horror it deserves, or scarce- 
 ly a even with disapprobation. Plutarch, the humane good- 
 natured Plutarch 1 ', mentions it as a merit in Attalus, king 
 ofPergamus, that he murdered, or, if you will, exposed all 
 his own children, in order to leave his crown to the son of 
 his brother Eumenes •, signalizing in this manner his gra- 
 titude and affection to Eumenes, who had left him his heir 
 preferably to that son. It was Solon, the most celebrated 
 of the sages of Greece, that gave parents permission by law 
 to kill their children c . 
 
 Shall we then allow these two circumstances to com- 
 pensate each other, to wit, monastic, vows and the expo- 
 sing of children, and to be unfavourable, in equal degrees, 
 to the propagation of mankind ? I doubt the advantage is 
 here on the side of antiquity. Perhaps, by an odd con- 
 nection of causes, the barbarous practice of the ancients 
 might rather render those times more populous. By re- 
 moving the terrors of too numerous a family it would en- 
 
 d Tacitus blames it. De Morib. Germ. 
 
 b De Fraterno Amore. Seneca also approves of the exposing of sickly 
 infirm children. De Ira, lib. i. cap. 15. 
 Sext. Emp. lib. iii. cap. 24.
 
 3i)2 ESSAY XI. 
 
 gage many people in marriage ; and such is the force of 
 natural affection, that very few, in comparison, would have 
 resolution enough, when it came to the push, to carry in- 
 to execution their former intentions. 
 
 China, the only country where this practice of exposing 
 children prevails at present, is the most populous country 
 we know of; and every man is married before he is twenty. 
 Such early marriages could scarcely be general, had not 
 men the prospect of so easy a method of getting rid of their 
 children. I own that a Plutarch speaks of it as a very 
 general maxim of the poor to expose their children j and 
 as the rich were then averse to marriage, on account of 
 the courtship they met with from those who expected 
 legacies from them, the public must have been in a bad 
 situation between them b . 
 
 Of all sciences, there is none where first appearances are 
 more deceitful than in politics. Hospitals for foundlings 
 seem favourable to the increase of numbers ; and, perhaps, 
 may be so, when kept under proper restrictions. But 
 when they open the door to everyone, without distinction, 
 they have probably a contrary effect, and are pernicious 
 to the state. It is computed, that every ninth child born 
 at Paris is sent to the hospital ; though it seems certain, 
 according to the common course of human affairs, that it 
 is not a hundredth child whose parents are altogether in- 
 capacitated to rear and educate him. The great differ- 
 ence, for health, industry, and morals, between an edu- 
 cation in an hospital and that in a private family, should 
 induce us not to make the entrance into the former too 
 easy and engaging. To kill one's own child is shocking 
 to nature, and must therefore be somewhat unusual ; but 
 
 ' De Ainorc Prolis. '■' See Nozt [Z.l
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 393 
 
 to turn over the care of him upon others, is very tempting 
 to the natural indolence of mankind. 
 
 Having considered the domestic life and manners of the 
 
 o 
 
 ancients, compared to those of the moderns ; where, in the 
 main, we seem rather superior, so far as the present ques- 
 tion is concerned ; we shall now examine the political cus- 
 toms and institutions of both ages, and weigh their influence 
 in retarding or forwarding the propagation of mankind. 
 
 Before the increase of the Roman power, or rather till 
 its full establishment, almost all the nations, which are the 
 scene of ancient history, were divided into small territories 
 or petty commonwealths, where of course a great equality 
 of fortune prevailed, and the centre of the government was 
 always very near its frontiers. 
 
 This was the situation of affairs not only in Greece and 
 Italy, but also in Spain, Gaul, Germany, Africa, and a 
 great part of the Lesser Asia : And it must be owned, 
 that no institution could be more favourable to the propa- 
 gation of mankind. For though a man of an overgrown 
 fortune, not being able to consume more than another, 
 must share it with those who serve and attend him ; yet 
 their possession being precarious, they have not the same 
 encouragement to marry, as if each had a small fortune, 
 secure and independent. Enormous cities are, beside?, 
 destructive to society, beget vice and disorder of all kinds, 
 starve the remoter provinces, and even starve themselves, 
 by the prices to which they raise all provisions. Where 
 each man had his little house and field to himself, and each 
 county had its capital, free and independent ; what a happy 
 situation of mankind ! How favourable to industry and 
 agriculture ; to marriage and propagation ! The prolific 
 virtue of men, were it to act in its full extent, without that 
 restraint which poverty and necessity impose on it, would
 
 39 1 essay xr. 
 
 double the number every generation : And nothing surely 
 can give it more liberty, than such small commonwealths, 
 and such an equality oi* fortune among the citizens. All 
 small states naturally produce equality of fortune, because 
 they afford no opportunities of great increase ; but small 
 commonwealths much more, by that division of power and 
 authority which is essential to them. 
 
 When Xenophon a retui'ned after the famous expedi- 
 tion with Cyrus, he hired himself and 6000 of the Greeks 
 into the service of Seulhes, a prince of Thrace ; and the 
 articles of his agreement were, that each soldier should re- 
 ceive a daric a month, each captain two darks, and he him- 
 self, a9 general, four. A regulation of pay which would 
 not a little surprise our modern officers. 
 
 Demosthenes and yEschines, with eight more, were sent 
 ambassadors to Philip of Macedon, and their appointments 
 for above four months were a thousand drachmas, which is 
 Jess than a drachma a-day for each ambassador b . But a 
 drachma a-day, nay sometimes two c , was the pay of a com- 
 mon foot-soldier. 
 
 A centurion among the Romans had only double pay 
 to a private man in Polybius's time d ; and we accordingly 
 find the gratuities after a triumph regulated by that pro- 
 portion e . But Mark Antony and the triumvirate gave 
 the centurions five times the reward of the other f . So 
 much had the increase of the commonwealth increased the 
 inequality among the citizens s. 
 
 * Dc. Exp. Cyr. lib. vii. 
 
 b Demost. De Falsa Leg. He calls it a considerable sum. 
 
 ' Thucyd. lib. iii. Lib. vi. cap. 37. 
 
 •' Tit. Liv. lib. xli. cap. 7. 13. ct alibi passim. 
 
 ' Appian. Dc Bell. Civ. lib. iv. 
 
 * Ctcsar gave the centurions ten times the gratuity of the common soldiers. 
 De Hello (Jallico, lib. viii. In the Rhodian cartel, mentioned afterwards, no 
 distinction in the ransom was made on account of ra:;ks in th-' army.
 
 P0PUL0USNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 395 
 
 It must be owned, that the situation of affairs in modern 
 times, with regard to civil liberty* as equality of fortune, 
 is not near so favourable either to the propagation or hap- 
 piness of mankind. Europe is shared out mostly into 
 great monarchies ; and such parts of it as are divided into 
 small territories are commonly governed by absolute prin- 
 ces, who ruin their people by a mimicry of the great mo- 
 narchs, in the splendour of their court, and number of their 
 Wees. Swisserland alone and Holland resemble the an- 
 cient republics ; and though the former is far from possess- 
 ing any advantage, either of soil, climate, or commerce, 
 yet the numbers of people with which it abounds, notwith- 
 standing their enlisting themselves into every service in 
 Europe, prove sufficiently the advantages of their political 
 institutions. 
 
 The ancient republics derived their chief or only secu- 
 rity from the numbers of their citizens. The Trachinians 
 having lost great numbers of their people, the remainder, 
 instead of enriching themselves by the inheritance of their 
 fellow-citizens, applied to Sparta, their metropolis, for a 
 new stock of inhabitants. The Spartans immediately col- 
 lected ten thousand men ; among whom the old citizens 
 divided the lands of which the former proprietors had 
 perished a . 
 
 After Timoleon had banished Dionysius from Syracuse, 
 and had settled the affairs of Sicily, finding the cities of 
 Syracuse and Sellinuntium extremely depopulated by tyran- 
 ny, war, and faction, he invited over from Greece some 
 new inhabitants to repeople them b . Immediately forty 
 thousand men (Plutarch c says sixty thousand) offered 
 themselves ; and he distributed so many lots of land among 
 them, to the great satisfaction of the ancient inhabitants; 
 
 ' Diod. Cyc, lib, xii, Thucyd. lib. iii. u Diod. Sic. lib. xvi. 
 
 c In vita Timol.
 
 396 ESSAY XI. 
 
 a proof at once of the maxims of ancient policy, which affec- 
 ted populousness more than riches; and of the good effects 
 of these maxims, in the extreme populousness of that small 
 country, Greece, which could at once supply so gi'eat a 
 colony. The case was not much different with the Ro- 
 mans in early times. He is a pernicious citizen, said M. 
 Curius, who cannot be content with seven a acres. Such 
 ideas of equality could not fail of producing great numbers 
 of people. 
 
 We must now consider what disadvantages the ancients 
 lay under with regard to populousness, and what checks 
 they received from their political maxims and institutions. 
 There are commonly compensations in every human con- 
 dition ; and though these compensations be not always 
 perfectly equal, yet they serve, at least, to restrain the 
 prevailing principle. To compare them, and estimate 
 their influence, is indeed difficult, even where they take 
 place in the same age, and in neighbouring countries : But 
 where several ages have intervened, and only scattered 
 lights arc afforded us by ancient authors ; what can we do 
 but amuse ourselves by talking pro and con on an interest- 
 ing subject, and thereby correcting all hasty and violent 
 determinations ? 
 
 First, We may observe, that the ancient republics were 
 almost in perpetual war ; a natural effect of their martial 
 spirit, their love of liberty, their mutual emulation, and 
 that hatred which generally prevails among nations that 
 live in close neighbourhood. Now, war in a small state is 
 much more destructive than in a great one ; both because 
 all the inhabitants, in the former case, must serve in the 
 armies, and because the whole state is frontier, and is all 
 exposed to the inroads of the enemy. 
 
 * See Note [A A.I
 
 P0PUL0USNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 397 
 
 The maxims of ancient war were much more destruc- 
 tive than those of modern, chiefly by that distribution of 
 plunder, in which the soldiers were indulged. The pri- 
 vate men in our armies are such a low set of people, that we 
 find any abundance, beyond their simple pay, breeds con- 
 fusion and disorder among them, and a total dissolution of 
 discipline. The very wretchedness and meanness of those 
 who fill the modern armies, render them less destructive to 
 the countries which they invade ; one instance, among 
 many, of the deceitfulness of first appearances in all politi- 
 cal reasonings a . 
 
 Ancient battles were much more bloody, by the very 
 nature cf the weapons employed in them. The ancients 
 drew up their men 16 or 20, sometimes 50 men deep, which 
 made a narrow front ; and it was not difficult to find a 
 held, in which both armies might be marshalled, and 
 might engage with each other. Even where any body of 
 the troops was kept off by hedges, hillocks, woods, or hol- 
 low ways, the battle was not so soon decided between the- 
 contending parties, but that the others hud Lne to over- 
 come the difficulties which opposed them, and take part in 
 the engagement. And as the whole army was thus en- 
 gaged, and each man closely buckled to his antagonist, the 
 battles were commonly very bloody, and great slaughter 
 was made on both bides, especially on the vanquished. 
 The long thin lines, required by fire-arms, and the quick 
 decision of the fray, render our modern engagements but 
 partial rencounters, and enable the general, who is foiled 
 
 ■' The ancient soldiers, being free citizens, above the lowest rank, were all 
 married. Our modern soldiers are either forced to live unmarried, or their 
 marriages turn to small account towards the increase of mankind ; a cir- 
 cumstance which ought, perhaps, to be takeii into consideration, as of some 
 consequence in favour of the ancients.
 
 SOS ESSAY XI. 
 
 in the beginning of the day, to draw off the greater part 
 of his army, sound and entire. 
 
 The battles of antiquity, both by their duration and 
 their resemblance to single combats, were wrought up to 
 a degree of fury quite unknown to later ages. Nothing 
 could then engage the combatants to give quarter, but the 
 hopes of profit, by making slaves of their prisoners. In 
 civil wars, as we learn from Tacitus a , the battles were the 
 most bloody, because the prisoners were not slaves. 
 
 What a stout resistance must be made, where the van- 
 quished expected so hard a fate ? How inveterate the rage$ 
 where the maxims of war were, in every respect, so bloody 
 and severe? 
 
 Instances are frequent, in ancient history, of cities be- 
 sieged, whose inhabitants, rather than open their gates, 
 murdered their wives and children, and rushed themselves 
 on a voluntary death, sweetened perhaps by a little pro- 
 spect of revenge upon the enemy. Greeks b , as well as bar- 
 barians, have often been wrought up to this degree of fury. 
 And the same determined spirit and cruelty must, in other 
 instances less remarkable, have been destructive to human 
 society, in those petty commonwealths which lived in close 
 neighbourhood, and were engaged in perpetual wars and 
 contentions. 
 
 Sometimes the wars in Greece, says Plutarch c , were 
 carried on entirely by inroads, and robberies, and piracies. 
 Such a method of war must be more destructive in small 
 states, than the bloodiest battles and sieges. 
 
 By the laws of the twelve tables, possession during two 
 
 * Hist. lib. ii. cap. 4. 
 
 b As Abydus, mentioned by Livy, lib. xxxi. cap. 17, 18. and Polyb. lib- 
 xvi. As also the Xanthians, Appian. De Bell. Civil, b'b. iv. 
 ' In vita Arati.
 
 FOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 399 
 
 years formed a prescription for land ; one year for move- 
 ables a ; an indication, that there was not in Italy, at that 
 time, much more order, tranquillity, and settled police, 
 than there is at present among the Tartars. 
 
 The only cartel 1 remember in ancient history, is that 
 between Demetrius Poliorcetes and the Rhodians ; when 
 it was agreed, that a free citizen should be restored for 
 1000 drachmas, a slave bearing arms for 500 b . 
 
 But, secondly, It appears that ancient manners were 
 more unfavourable than the modern, not only in times of 
 war, but also in those of peace ; and that too in every re- 
 spect, except the love of civil liberty and of equality, which 
 is, I own, of considerable importance. To exclude fac- 
 tion from a free government, is very difficult, if not alto- 
 gether impracticable ; but such inveterate rage between 
 the factions, and such bloody maxims are found, in mo- 
 dern times, amongst religious parties alone. In ancient 
 history we may always observe, where one part}' prevailed, 
 whether the nobles or people (for I can observe no differ- 
 ence in this respect c ), that they immediately butchered all 
 of the opposite party who fell into their hands, and banish- 
 ed such as had been so fortunate as to escape their fury. 
 No form of process, no law, no trial, no pardon. A fourth, 
 a third, perhaps near half of the city was slaughtered, or 
 expelled, every revolution ; and the exiles always joined 
 foreign enemies, and did all the mischief possible to their 
 fellow-citizens, till fortune put it in their power to take 
 full revenge by a new revolution. And as these were fre- 
 quent in such violent governments, the disorder, diffidence, 
 
 a Inst. lib. ii. cap. 6. b Diod. Sicul. lib. xx. 
 
 1 Lysias, who was himself of the popular faction, and very narrowly esca- 
 ped from the thirty tyrants, says, that the Democracy was as violent a go- 
 vernment as the Oligarchy. Orat. 2 }. De Statu I'opul.
 
 400 ESSAY XI. 
 
 jealousy, enmity, which must prevail, are not easy for us 
 to imagine in this age of the world. 
 
 There are only two revolutions 1 can recollect in ancient 
 history, which passed without great severity, and great ef- 
 fusion of blood in massacres and assassinations, namely, 
 the restoration of the Athenian Democracy by Thrasybu- 
 lus, and the subduing of the Roman Republic by Caesar. 
 We learn from ancient history, that Thrasybulus passed a 
 general amnesty for all past offences ; and first introduced 
 that word, as well as practice, into Greece a . It appears, 
 however, from many orations of Lysias b , that the chief, 
 and even some of the subaltern offenders, in the preceding 
 tyranny, were tried and capitally punished. And as to 
 Caesar's clemency, though much celebrated, it would not 
 gain great applause in the present age. He butchered, for 
 instance, all Cato's senate, when he became master of Uti- 
 ca ° ; and these, we may readily believe, were not the most 
 worthless of the party. All those who had borne arms 
 against that usurper were attainted, and by Hirtius's law- 
 declared incapable of ail public offices. 
 
 These people were extremely fond of liberty, but seem 
 not to have understood it very well. When the thirty ty- 
 rants first established their dominion at Athens, they be- 
 gan with seizing all the sycophants and informers, who 
 had been so troublesome during the democracy, and put- 
 ting them to death by an arbitrary sentence and execu- 
 tion. Even/ man, says Sallust d and Lysias c , rejoiced ai 
 
 * Cicero, Philip. T. 
 
 l ' As Orat. 11. contra Eratost.; Orat. 12. contra Agorat. ; Orat. 15. pro 
 Mantith. 
 
 ' Appian. De Bel. Civ. lib. ii. '' See Caisar's speech. De Bel. Cat. 
 
 r '/rat '-'I. And in Orat. 29. lie mentions the factious spirit of the popu- 
 lar .assemblies as the only cause why these illegal punishments should dis- 
 please 
 
 I
 
 P0PULOUSNESS Oi? ANCIENT NATIONS. 40i 
 
 these punishments ; not considering that liberty was from 
 that moment annihilated. 
 
 The utmost energy of the nervous style of Thucydides, 
 and the copiousness and expression of the Greek language, 
 seem to sink under that historian, when he attempts to de- 
 scribe the disorders which arose from faction throughout 
 all the Grecian commonwealths. You would imagine 
 that he still labours with a thought greater than he can 
 find words to communicate. And he concludes his pathe- 
 tic description with an observation, which is at once re- 
 fined and solid : " In these contests," says he, " those who 
 " were the dullest and most stupid, and had the least fore- 
 " sight, commonly prevailed. For being conscious of this 
 " weakness, and dreading to be over-reached by those of 
 " greater penetration, they went to work hastily, without 
 " premeditation, by the sword and poinard, and thereby 
 " got the start of their antagonists, who were forming fine 
 *' schemes and projects for their destruction a ." 
 
 Not to mention Dionysius b the elder, who is computed 
 to have butchered in cold blood above 10,000 of his fel- 
 low-citizens •, or Agathocles c , Nabis d , and others, stiil 
 more bloody than he ; the transactions, even in free go- 
 vernments, were extremely violent and destructive. At 
 Athens, the thirty tyrants and the nobles, in a twelve- 
 month, murdered, without trial, about 1200 of the people, 
 and banished above the half of the citizens that remained V 
 In Argos, near the same time, the people killed 1200 of 
 the nobles ; and afterwards their own demagogues, because 
 
 a TJb. iii- h Piut. de Virt. et Fort Alex. 
 
 <" Diod. Sic lib. xviii, xix. Tit. Liv. xxxi, xxxiii, xxxiv. 
 
 e Diod. Sic. lib. xiv. Isocrates says, there were only 5000 banished. He 
 makes the number of those killed amount to 1500. Areop. iEsehines contra 
 Ctesiph assigns precisely the same number. Seneca ' De Tranq. Ar.im/ 
 cap. v. says 13,000. 
 
 VOL. I. 2 n
 
 402 ESSAY XI. 
 
 they had refused to carry their prosecutions farther a . The 
 people also in Corcyra killed 1500 of the nobles, and ba- 
 nished a thousand b . These numbers will appear the more 
 surprising, if we consider the extreme smallness of these 
 states ; but all ancient history is full of such circumstan- 
 ces c . 
 
 When Alexander ordered all the exiles to be restored 
 throughout all the cities : it was found, that the whole a- 
 mounted to 20,000 men d ; the remains probably of still 
 greater slaughters and massacres. What an astonishing 
 multitude in so narrow a country as ancient Greece ! And 
 what domestic confusion, jealousy, partiality, revenge, 
 heart-burnings, must have torn those cities, where factions 
 were wrought up to such a degree of fury and despair ! 
 
 It would be easier, says lsocrates to Philip, to raise an 
 army in Greece at present from the vagabonds than from 
 the cities. 
 
 Even when affairs came not to such extremities (which 
 they failed not to do almost in every city twice or thrice 
 every century), property was rendered very precarious by 
 the maxims of ancient government. Xenophon, in the Ban- 
 quet of Socrates, gives us a natural unaffected description 
 of the tyranny of the Athenian people. " In my poverty," 
 says Charmides, " I am much more happy than I ever 
 " was while possessed of riches : as much as it is happier 
 " to be in security than in terrors, free than a slave, to re- 
 " ceive than to pay court, to be trusted than suspected. 
 " Formerly I was obliged to caress every informer ; some 
 " imposition was continually laid upon me; and it wa; 
 " never allowed me to travel, or be absent from the city. 
 " At present, when I am poor, I look big, and threaten 
 
 a Diod. Sic. lib. xv. b Diod. Sic. lib. xiii. 
 
 • Sve Now: !"BB. ' d Diod. Sic. lib. xviii.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 403 
 
 " others. The rich are afraid of me, and show me every 
 i; kind of civility and respect; and I am become a kind of 
 " tyrant in the city a ." 
 
 In one of the plea lings of Lysias b , the orator very coolly 
 speaks of it, by and bye, as a maxim of the Athenian peo- 
 ple, that whenever they wanted money, they put to death, 
 some of the rich citizens as well as strangers, for the sake 
 of the forfeiture. In mentioning this, he seems not to 
 have any intention of blaming them, still less of provoking 
 them, who were his audience and judges. 
 
 Whether a man was a citizen or a stranger among that 
 people, it seemed indeed requisite, either that he should 
 impoverish himself, or that the people would impoverish 
 him, and perhaps kill him into the bargain. The orator 
 last mentioned gives a pleasant account of an estate laid 
 out in the public service c ; that is, above the third of it 
 in raree-shows and figured dances. 
 
 I need not insist on the Greek tyrannies, which were al- 
 together horrible. Even the mixed monarchies, by which 
 most of the ancient states of Greece were governed, before 
 the introduction of republics, were very unsettled. Scarce- 
 ly any city, but Athens, says Isocrates, could show a suc- 
 cession of kings for four or five generations d . 
 
 Besides many other obvious reasons for the instability 
 of ancient monarchies, the equal division of property amon^ 
 the brothers of private families, must, by a necessary con- 
 sequence, contribute to unsettle and disturb the state. The 
 universal preference given to the elder by modern laws, 
 though it increases the inequality of fortunes, has, how- 
 ever, this good effect, that it accustoms men to the same 
 
 ■• Pag. 8S5. ex edit. Leunclav. h Orat. 2 r >. :,. Nlcom 
 
 ' See Note TCCl " Pan.atli.
 
 lOt ESSAY XT. 
 
 idea in public succession, and cuts oft" all claim and pre- 
 tension of the younger. 
 
 The new settled colony of Heraclea, falling immediately 
 into faction, applied to Sparta, who sent Heripidas with 
 full authority to quiet their dissentions. This man, not 
 provoked by any opposition, not inflamed by party rage, 
 knew no better expedient than immediately putting to 
 death about 500 of the citizens a ; a strong proof how 
 deeply rooted these violent maxims of government were 
 throughout all Greece. 
 
 If such was the disposition of men's minds among that 
 refined people, what may be expected in the common- 
 wealths of Italy, Africa, Spain, and Gaul, which were de- 
 nominated barbarous ? Why otherwise did the Greeks so 
 much value themselves on their humanity, gentleness, and 
 moderation, above all other nations ? This reasoning seems 
 very natural. But unluckily the history of the Roman 
 commonwealth, in its earlier times, if we give credit to the 
 received accounts, presents an opposite conclusion. No 
 blood was ever shed in any sedition at Rome till the mur- 
 der of the Gracchi. Dionvsius Halicarnassaeus b , observing 
 the singular humanity of the Roman people in this parti- 
 cular, makes use of it as an argument that they were ori- 
 ginally of Grecian extraction : Whence we may conclude, 
 that the factions and revolutions in the barbarous republics 
 were usually more violent than even those of Greece above 
 mentioned. 
 
 If the Romans were so late in coming to blows, they 
 made ample compensation after they had once entered 
 upon the bloody scene ; and Appian's history of their ci- 
 vil wars contains the most frightful picture of massacres, 
 
 • DioJ. Sic, lib. xvi, b Lib. i.
 
 P0PUL0USNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 405 
 
 proscriptions, and forfeitures, that ever was presented to 
 the world. What pleases most, in that historian, is, that 
 he seems to feel a proper resentment of these barbarous 
 proceedings; and talks not with that provoking coolness 
 and indifference which custom had produced in many of 
 the Greek historians a . 
 
 The maxims of ancient politics contain, in general, so 
 little humanity and moderation, that it seems superfluous 
 to give any particular reason for the acts of violence com- 
 mitted at any particular period. Yet I cannot forbear 
 observing, that the laws, in the later period of the Roman 
 commonwealth, were so absurdly contrived, that they obli- 
 ged the heads of parties to have recourse to these extremi- 
 ties. All capital punishments were abolished: However 
 criminal, or, what is more, however dangerous any citi- 
 zen might be, he could not regularly be punished other- 
 wise than by banishment : And it became necessary, in the 
 revolutions of party, to draw the sword of private ven- 
 geance ; nor was it easy, when laws were once violated, to 
 set bounds to these sanguinary proceedings. Had Brutus 
 himself prevailed over the triumvirate ; could he, in com- 
 mon prudence, have allowed Octavius and Antony to live, 
 and lmve contented himself with banishing them to Rhodes 
 or Marseilles, where they might still have plotted new 
 commotions and rebellions ? His executing C. Antonius, 
 brother to the triumvir, shows evidently his sense of the 
 matter. Did not Cicero, with the approbation of all the 
 wise and virtuous of Rome, arbitrarily put to death Cati- 
 line's accomplices, contrary to law, and without any trial 
 or form of process ? and if he moderated his executions, 
 did it not proceed, either from the clemency of his tern- 
 
 a See Note [DD.1
 
 10b' ESSAY XI. 
 
 per, or the conjunctures of the times ? A wretched securi- 
 ty in a government which pretends to laws and liberty ! 
 
 Thus one extreme produces another. In the same man- 
 ner as excessive severity in the laws is apt to beget great 
 relaxation in their execution ; so their excessive lenitv na- 
 
 r 
 
 turally produces cruelty and barbarity. It is dangerous to 
 force us, in any case, to pass their sacred boundaries. 
 
 One general cause of the disorders, so frequent in all 
 ancient governments, seems to have consisted in the great 
 difficulty of establishing any aristocracy in those ages, and 
 the perpetual discontents and seditions of the people, 
 whenever even the meanest and most beggarly were ex- 
 cluded from the legislature and from public offices. The 
 very quality of freemen gave such a rank, being opposed 
 to that of slave, that it seemed to entitle the possessor to 
 every power and privilege of the commonwealth. Solon's 1 
 laws excluded no freemen from votes or elections, but con- 
 fined some magistracies to a particular census ,• yet were 
 the people never satisfied till those laws were repealed. 
 By the treaty with Antipater b , no Athenian was allowed 
 a vote whose census was less than 2000 drachmas (about 
 L. 60 Sterling"). And though such a government would 
 to us appear sufficiently democratical, it was so disagree- 
 able to that people, that above two-thirds of them imme- 
 diately left their country . Cassander reduced that census 
 to the half d ; yet still the government was considered as 
 an oligarchical tyranny, and the effect of foreign violence. 
 
 Servius Tullius's c laws seem equal and reasonable, by 
 fixing the power in proportion to the property ; yet the 
 Roman people could never be brought quietly to submit 
 to them. 
 
 a Plutarch, in vita Solon. L Dioci. Sic. lib. xviii. 
 
 '" Jd. ibid. '' Id, ibid. ' Tit Liv. lib. i. cap. 4o,
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 407 
 
 In those days there was no medium between a severe, 
 jealous aristocracy, ruling over discontented subjects, and 
 a turbulent, factious, tyrannical democracy. At present, 
 there is not one republic in Europe, from one extremity 
 of it to the other, that is not remarkable for justice, lenity, 
 and stability, equal to, or even beyond Marseilles, Rhodes, 
 or the most celebrated in antiquity. Almost all of them 
 are well tempered aristocracies. 
 
 But, thirdly. There are many other circumstances in 
 which ancient nations seem inferior to the modern, both 
 for the happiness aHd increase of mankind. Trade, ma- 
 nufactures, industry, were no where, in former ages, so 
 flourishing as they are at present in Europe. The only 
 garb of the ancients, both for males and females, seems to 
 have been a kind of flannel, which they wore commonly 
 white or grey, and which they scoured as often as it be- 
 came dirty. Tyre, which carried on, after Carthage, the 
 greatest commerce of any city in the Mediterranean, be- 
 fore it was destroyed by Alexander, was no mighty city, 
 if we credit Arrian's account of its inhabitants 3 . Athens 
 is commonly supposed to have been a trading city ; but it 
 was as populous before the Median war as at any time 
 after it, according to Herodotus 5 ; yet its commerce at 
 that time was so inconsiderable, that, as the same histo- 
 rian observes , even the neighbouring coasts of Asia were 
 as little frequented by the Greeks as the pillars of Hercu- 
 les, for beyond these he conceived nothing. 
 
 a Lib. ii. There were 8000 killed during the siege, and the captive s 
 amounted to 30,000. Diodorus Siculus, lib. svii. says only 1^,000 ; but he- 
 accounts for this small number by saying, that the Tynans had sent away 
 beforehand part of their wives and children to Carthage. 
 
 u Lib. v. he makes the number of the citizens amount to 30,000. 
 
 * lb. v.
 
 403 ESSAY XI. 
 
 Great interest of* money, and great profits of trade, are 
 an infallible indication, that industry and commerce are 
 but in their infancy. We read in Lysias a of 100 per cent. 
 profit made on a cargo of two talents, sent to no greater 
 distance than from Athens to the Adriatic; nor is this 
 mentioned as an instance of extraordinary profit. Anti- 
 dorus, says Demosthenes 1 ', paid three talents and a half 
 for a house, which he let at a talent a year ; and the orator 
 blames his own tutors for not employing his money to like 
 advantage. My fortune, says he, in eleven years' minority, 
 ought to have been tripled. The value of 20 of the slaves 
 left by his father, he computes at 40 minas, and the year- 
 ly profit of their labour at 12 c. The most moderate in- 
 terest at Athens, (for there was higher d often paid,) was 
 12 per cenf. e , and that paid monthly. Not to insist upon 
 the high interest to which the vast sums distributed in 
 elections had raised money* at Rome, we find, that Ver- 
 rcs, before that factious period, stated 24 per cent, for 
 money which lie left in the hands of the publicans ; and 
 though Cicero exclaims against this article, it is not on 
 account of the extravagant usury, but because it had never 
 been customary to state any interest on such occasions s . 
 Interest, indeed, sunk at Home, after the settlement of the 
 empire; but it never remained any considerable time so 
 low as in the commercial states of modern times h . 
 
 Among the other inconveniences which the Athenians 
 felt from the fortifying of Decelia by the Lacedemonians, 
 it is represented by Thucydides 1 , as one of the most con- 
 
 a Orat. 33. atlvers. Diagit. b Contra Aphob. p. 25. ex edit. Aldi. 
 
 ' Id. p. 19. ll Id. ibid. 
 
 ' Id. ibid, and iEschines contra Ctesiph. 
 
 Epist. ad Attic, lib. iv. epist. 1.5. 
 1 Contra Yerr. Orat. 5. ' Sw Evav IV. ■ Lib. vii.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 409 
 
 siderable, that they could not bring over their corn from 
 Euboea by land, passing by Oropus, but were obliged to 
 embark it, and to sail round the promontory of Sunium ; 
 a surprising instance of the imperfection of ancient navi- 
 gation, for the water-carriage is not here above double the 
 land. 
 
 I do not remember a passage in any ancient author, 
 where the growth of a city is ascribed to the establishment 
 of a manufacture. The commerce, which is said to flou- 
 rish, is chiefly the exchange of those commodities, for 
 which different soils and climates were suited. The sale 
 of wine and oil into Africa, according to Diodorus Si- 
 culus a , was the foundation of the riches of Agrigcntum. 
 The situation of the city of Sybaris, according to the same 
 author b , was the cause of its immense populousness, being 
 built near the two rivers Crathys and Sybaris. But these 
 two rivers, we may observe, are not navigable, and could 
 only produce some fertile valleys for agriculture and til- 
 lage ; an advantage so inconsiderable, that a modern wri- 
 ter would scarcely have taken notice of it. 
 
 The barbarity of the ancient tyrants, together with the 
 extreme love of liberty which animated those ages, must 
 have banished every merchant and manufacturer, and 
 have quite depopulated the state, had it subsisted upon 
 industry and commerce. While the cruel and suspicious 
 Dionysius was carrying on his butcheries, who, that was 
 not detained by his landed property, and could have car- 
 ried with him any art or skill to procure a subsistence in 
 other countries, would have remained exposed to such im- 
 placable barbarity ? The persecutions of Philip II. and 
 
 '■ Lib. xil t. b Lib. xii".
 
 110 ESSAY XI. 
 
 Lewis XIV 7 . filled all Europe with the manufactures of 
 Flanders and of France. 
 
 I grant, that agriculture is the species of industry chiefly 
 requisite to the subsistence of multitudes ; and it is pos- 
 sible that this industry may flourish, even where manutac- 
 tures and other arts are unknown and neglected, fewisser- 
 land is at present a remarkable instance, where we find, at 
 once, the most skilful husbandmen, and the most bungling 
 tradesmen, that are to be met with in Europe. That 
 agriculture flourished in Greece and Italy, at least in some 
 parts of them, and at some periods, we have reason to pre- 
 sume ; and whether the mechanical arts had reached the 
 same degree of perfection, may not be esteemed so mate- 
 rial, especially if we consider the great equality of riches 
 in the ancient republics, where each family was obliged to 
 cultivate, with the greatest care and industry, its own little 
 field, in order to its subsistence. 
 
 But is it just reasoning, because agriculture may, in 
 some instances, flourish without trade or manufactures, to 
 conclude, that, in any great extent of country, and for any 
 great tract of time, it would subsist alone ? The most na- 
 tural way, surely, of encouraging husbandry, is, first, to 
 excite other kinds of industry, and thereby afford the la- 
 bourer a ready market for his commodities, and a return 
 for such goods as may contribute to his pleasure and en- 
 joyment. This method is infallible and universal ; and, 
 as it prevails more in modern governments than in the an- 
 cient, it affords a presumption of the superior populousness 
 of the former. 
 
 Every man, says Xenophon % may be a farmer: No art 
 or skill is requisite : All consists in industry, and in atten- 
 
 Occoa
 
 POPULOUSNESS Oi ANCILNT NATIONS. 4? 1 1 
 
 tion to the execution. A strong proof, as Columella hints, 
 that agriculture was but little known in the age of Xeno- 
 phon. 
 
 All our later improvements and refinements, have they 
 done nothing towards the easy subsistence of men, and 
 consequently towards their propagation and increase ? Our 
 superior skill in mechanics ; the discovery of new worlds, 
 by which commerce has been so much enlarged ; the es- 
 tablishment of posts •, and the use of bills of exchange : 
 These seem all extremely useful to the encouragement of 
 art, industry, and populousness. Were we to strike ofFthese, 
 what a check should we <*ive to every kind of business and 
 labour, and what multitudes of families would immediate- 
 ly perish from want and hunger ? And it seems not pro- 
 bable, that we could supply the place of these new inven- 
 tions by any other regulation or institution. 
 
 Have we reason to think, that the police of ancient states 
 was any wise comparable to that of modern, or that men 
 had then equal security, either at home, or in their jour- 
 neys by land or water ? I question not, but every impartial 
 examiner would give us the preference in this particular a . 
 
 Thus, upon comparing the whole, it seems impossible 
 to assign any just reason, why the world should have been 
 more populous in ancient than in modern times. The 
 equality of property among the ancients, liberty, and the 
 small divisions of their states, were indeed circumstances 
 favourable to the propagation of mankind : But their wars 
 were more bloodv and destructive, their fjovernments more 
 factious and unsettled, commerce and manufactures more 
 feeble and languishing, and the general police more loose 
 end irregular. These latter disadvantages seem to form a 
 
 » See Part I. Essav XI.
 
 J 12 ESSAY XI. 
 
 sufficient counterbalance to the former advantages; and 
 rather favour the opposite opinion to that which common- 
 ly prevails with regard to this subject. 
 
 But there is no reasoning, it may be said, against mat- 
 ter of fact. If it appear, that the world was then more 
 populous than at present, we may be assured, that our con- 
 jectures are false, and that we have overlooked some ma- 
 terial circumstance in the comparison. This I readily 
 own : All our preceding reasonings I acknowledge to be 
 merely trifling, or, at least, small skirmishes and frivolous 
 rencounters, which decide nothing. But unluckily the 
 main combat, where we compare facts, cannot be render- 
 ed much more decisive. The facts, delivered by ancient 
 authors, are either so uncertain or so imperfect as to afford 
 us nothing positive in this matter. How indeed could it 
 be otherwise? The very facts which we must oppose to 
 them, in computing the populousness of modern states, are 
 far from being either certain or complete. Many grounds 
 of calculation proceeded on by celebrated writers are little 
 better than those of the emperor Heliogabalus, who form- 
 ed an estimate of the immense greatness of Rome from ten 
 thousand pound weight of cobwebs which had been found 
 in that city a . 
 
 It is to be remarked, that all kinds of numbers are un- 
 certain in ancient manuscripts, and have been subject to 
 much greater corruptions than any other part of the text, 
 and that for an obvious reason. Any alteration, in other 
 places, commonly affects the sense or grammar, and is 
 more readily perceived by the reader and transcriber. 
 
 Few enumerations of inhabitants have been made of any 
 tract of country by any ancient author of good authority, 
 >.o as to afford us a large enough view for comparison. 
 
 ■ JKlii Lamprid. in vita Ilcliogab. cap. 26.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 413 
 
 It is probable that there was formerly a good founda- 
 tion for the number of citizens assigned to any free city, 
 because they entered lor a share in the government, and 
 there were exact registers kept of them. But as the num- 
 ber of slaves is seldom mentioned, this leaves us in as great 
 uncertainty as ever with regard to the populousnesss even 
 of single cities. 
 
 The first page of Thucydides is, in my opinion, the com- 
 mencement of real history. All preceding narrations are 
 so intermixed with fable, that philosophers ought to aban- 
 don them, in a great measure, to the embellishment of 
 poets and orators*. 
 
 With regard to remoter times, the numbers of people 
 assigned are often ridiculous, and lose all credit and autho- 
 rity. The free citizens of Sybaris, able to bear arms, and 
 actually drawn out in battle, were 300,000. They en- 
 countered at Siagra with 100,000 citizens of Crotona, ano- 
 ther Greek city contiguous to them, and were defeated 
 
 This is Diodorus Siculus's b account, and is very seriously 
 insisted on by that historian. Strabo c also mentions the 
 same number of Sybarites. 
 
 Diodorus Siculus d , enumerating the inhabitants of 
 Agrigentum, when it was destroyed by the Carthaginians, 
 says that they amounted to 20,000 citizens, 200,000 stran- 
 gers, besides slaves, who, in so opulent a city as he repre- 
 sents it, would probably be at least as numerous. We 
 must remark, that the women and the children are not in- 
 cluded ; and that therefore, upon the whole, this city must 
 have contained near two millions of inhabitants e . And 
 
 - See Note [EE.] ' Lib. xii. c Lib. \i. u Lib. xiii. 
 
 ' Diogenes Laertius (in vita Empedoclis) says, that Agrigentum contain- 
 ■\ only 800,000 inhabitants.
 
 414? ESSAY xr. 
 
 what was the reason of so immense an increase ? They 
 were industrious in cultivating the neighbouring fields, not 
 exceeding a small English county ; and they traded with 
 their wine and oil to Africa, which at that time produced 
 none of these commodities. 
 
 Ptolemy, says Theocritus a , commands 33,339 cities. 
 I suppose the singularity of the number was the reason of 
 assigning it. Diodorus Siculus b assigns three millions of 
 inhabitants to Egypt, a small number: But then he makes 
 the number of cities amount to 18,000; an evident con- 
 tradiction. 
 
 He says c , the people were formerly seven millions. Thus 
 remote times are always most envied and admired. 
 
 That Xerxes's army was extremely numerous I can rea- 
 dily believe; both from the great extent of his empire, 
 and from the practice among the eastern nations of en- 
 cumbering their camp with a superfluous multitude : But 
 will any rational man cite Herodotus's wonderful narrations 
 as any authority ? There is something very rational, I own, 
 in Lysias's J argument upon this subject. Had not Xerxes's 
 army been incredibly numerous, says lie, he had never 
 made a bridge over the Hellespont : It had been much 
 easier to have transported his men over so short a passage 
 with the numerous shipping of which he was master. 
 
 Polvbius says e that the Romans, between the first and 
 second Punic wars, being threatened with an invasion from 
 the Gauls, mustered all their own forces, and those of their 
 allies, and found them amount to seven hundred thousand 
 men able to bear arms ; a great number surely, and which, 
 when joined to the slaves, is probably not less, if not rather 
 
 Idyll. IT. " Lib. i. rdyll. IT. 
 
 Or.il. J,- Viu),\ ris. '• Lib. ii.
 
 ropuLOUSNESS or ancient nations. 415 
 
 more, than that extent of country affords at present a . The 
 enumeration too seems to have been made with some ex- 
 actness ; and Polybius gives us the detail of the particulars. 
 But might not the number be magnified, in order to en- 
 courage the people ? 
 
 Diodorus Siculus b makes the same enumeration amount 
 to near a million. These variations are suspicious. He 
 plainly too supposes, that Italy, in his time, was not so po- 
 pulous another suspicious circumstance. For who can 
 believe, that the inhabitants of that country diminished from 
 the time of the first Punic war to that of the triumvirates P 
 
 Julius Caesar, according to Appian c , encountered four 
 millions of Gauls, killed one million, and made another 
 million prisoners d . Supposing the number of the enemy's 
 army and that of the slain could be exactly assigned, which 
 never is possible ; how could it be known how often the 
 same man returned into the armies, or how distinguish the 
 new from the old levied soldiers ? No attention ought ever 
 to be given to such loose, exaggerated calculations, espe- 
 cially where the author does not tell us the mediums upou 
 which the calculations were founded. 
 
 Paterculus e makes the number of Gauls killed by Ccesar 
 amount only to 400, COO ; a more probable account, and 
 more easily reconciled to the history of these wars given 
 by that conqueror himself in his Commentaries f . The 
 most bloody of his battles were fought against the Helvetii 
 and the Germans. 
 
 a The country that supplied this nuniher was not ahove a third of Italy, 
 viz. the Pope's dominions, Tuscany, and a part of the kingdom of Naples . 
 But perhaps in thohe early times there were very few slaves, except in 
 Rome, or the great cities. b Li!), ii. c Celtica. 
 
 H Plutarch (in vita Cts.) makes the number tiiat Cassar fought with a- 
 Tjount to three millions ; Julian (in Casaribus) to two. 
 
 '■ Lib. ii. cap. 4 7. f See Nutk [FF.]
 
 4.16 ESSAY XI. 
 
 One would imagine, that every circumstance of the life 
 and actions of Dionysius the elder might be regarded as 
 authentic, and free from all fabulous exaggeration ; both 
 because he lived at a time when letters flourished most in 
 Greece, and because his chief historian was Philistus, a 
 man allowed to be of great genius, and who was a courtier 
 and minister of that prince. But, can we admit that he 
 had a standing army of 100,000 foot, 10,000 horse, and a 
 fleet of 400 galleys 1 ? These, we may observe, were mer- 
 cenary forces, and subsisted upon pay, like our armies in 
 Europe ; for the citizens were all disarmed : and when Dion 
 afterwards invaded Sicily, and called on his countrymen 
 to vindicate their liberty, he was obliged to bring arms 
 nlonrr with him, which he distributed among those who 
 joined him b . In a state where agriculture alone flourishes, 
 there may be many inhabitants ; and if these be all armed 
 and disciplined, a great force may be called out upon oc- 
 casion : But great bodies of mercenary troops can never 
 be maintained, without either great trade and numerous 
 manufactures, or extensive dominions. The United Pro- 
 vinces never were masters of such a force by sea and land, 
 as that which is said to belong to Dionysius ; yet they pos- 
 sess as large a territory, perfectly well cultivated, and have 
 much more resources from their commerce and industry. 
 Diodorus Siculus allows, that, even in his time, the army 
 of Dionysius appeared incredible ; that is, as I interpret it, 
 was entirely a fiction ; and the opinion arose from the ex- 
 aggerated flattery of the courtiers, and perhaps from the 
 vanity and policy of the tyrant himself. 
 
 It is a usual fallacy, to consider all the ages of antiquity 
 ^ one period, and to compute the numbers contained in 
 
 ' Diod Sic. )'<h. \' - Plutarch, in vita Dionv?.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 417 
 
 the great cities mentioned by ancient authors, as if these 
 cities had been all contemporary. The Greek colonies 
 flourished extremely in Sicily during the age of Alexander : 
 But in Augustus's time they were so decayed, that almost 
 all the produce of that fertile island was consumed in Italy 3 . 
 
 Let us now examine the numbers of the inhabitants as- 
 signed to particular cities in antiquity; and omitting the 
 numbers of Nineveh, Babylon, and the Egyptian Thebes, 
 let us confine ourselves to the sphere of real history, to the 
 Grecian and Roman states. 1 must own, the more I con- 
 sider this subject, the more am I inclined to scepticism 
 with regard to the great populousness ascribed to ancient 
 times. 
 
 Athens is said by Plato b to be a very gveat city ; and 
 it was surely the greatest of all the Greek c cities except 
 Syracuse, which was nearly about the same size in Thucy- 
 dides's d time, and afterwards increased beyond it. For 
 Cicero e mentions it as the greatest of all the Greek cities 
 in his time; not comprehending, I suppose, either Antioch 
 or Alexandria under that denomination. Athenaeus f says, 
 that by the enumeration of Demetrius Phalereus, there 
 were in Athens 21,000 citizens, 10,000 strangers, and 
 400,000 slaves. This number is much insisted on by those 
 whose opinion I call in question, and is esteemed a funda- 
 mental fact to their purpose : But, in my opinion, there is 
 no point of criticism more certain, than that Athenseus 
 
 k Strabo, lib. vi. b Apolog. Socr. 
 
 c Argos seems also to have been a great city ; for Lysias contents him- 
 self with saying that it did not exceed Athens. Orat. 34. 
 
 d Lib. vi. See also Plutarch in vita Nicia?. 
 
 e Orat. contra Verrein, lib. iv. cap. 52. Strabo, lib. vi. says, it was twenty- 
 two miles in compass. But then we are to consider, that it contained two 
 harbours within it ; one of which was a very large one, and might be regard- 
 ed as a kind of bay. f Lib. vi. cap. 20. 
 VOL. I. 2 E
 
 41 S ESSAY XI. 
 
 and Ctesicles, whom he quotes, are here mistaken, and that 
 the number of slaves is, at least, augmented by a whole 
 cypher, and ought not to be regarded as more than 40,000. 
 First, When the number of citizens are said to be 21,000 
 by Athemeus a , men full of age are only understood. For, 
 1. Herodotus says b , that Aristagoras, ambassador from the 
 Ionians, found it harder to deceive one Spartan than 30,000 
 Athenians; meaning, in a loose way, the whole state, sup- 
 posed to be met in one popular assembly, exeluding the 
 women and children. 2. Thucydides c says, that making 
 allowance for all the absentees in the fleet, army, garrisons, 
 and for people employed in their private affairs, the Athe- 
 nian assembly never rose to five thousand. 3. The forces, 
 enumerated by the same historian d , being all citizens, and 
 amounting to 13,000 heavy-armed infantry, prove the same 
 method of calculation ; as also the whole tenor of the Greek 
 historians, who always understand men of full age when 
 they assign the number of citizens in any republic. Now, 
 these being but the fourth of the inhabitants, the free Athe- 
 nians were by this account 84,000 ; the strangers, 40,000; 
 and the slaves; calculating by the smaller number, and al- 
 lowing that they married and propagated at the same rate 
 with freemen, were 1 GO, 000; and the whole of the inha- 
 bitants 284,000 ; a number surely large enough. The 
 other number, 1,720,000, makes Athens larger than Lon- 
 don and Paris united. 
 
 Sccov.dhj, There were but 10,000 houses in Athens'". 
 
 Thirdly, Though the extent of the walls, as given us by 
 Thucydides f be great, (to wit eighteen miles, beside the 
 
 » Demosthenes assigns 20,000 ; contra Aristag. 
 
 b Lib. v. c Lib. viii. 
 
 d Lib. ii. Diodorus Siculus's account perfectly agrees, lib. xii. 
 
 e Xenophon Mem. lib. ii. ' Lib. ii.
 
 i'OPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 419 
 
 sea-coast) : Yet Xenophon a says there was much waste 
 ground within the walls. They seem indeed to have join- 
 ed four distinct and separate cities b . 
 
 Fourthly, No insurrection of the slaves, or suspicion of 
 insurrection, is ever mentioned by historians, except one 
 commotion of the miners . 
 
 Fifthly, The treatment of slaves by the Athenians is said 
 by Xenophon d , and Demosthenes e , and Pfautus f , to have 
 been extremely gentle and indulgent : Which could never 
 have been the ease, had the disproportion been twenty to 
 one. The disproportion is not so great in any of our co- 
 lonies ; yet are we obliged to exercise a rigorous and mili- 
 tary government over the negroes. 
 
 Sixthly, No man is ever esteemed rich for possessing 
 what may be reckoned an equal distribution of property in 
 any country, or even triple or quadruple that wealth. Thus 
 every person in England is computed by some to spend 
 sixpence a-day *, yet is he esteemed but poor who has five 
 times that sum. Now Timarchus is said by iEschines s to 
 have been left in easy circumstances ; but he was master 
 only of ten slaves employed in manufactures. Lysias and 
 his brother, two strangers, were proscribed by the thirty 
 for their great riches ; though they had but sixty a-piece h : 
 Demosthenes was left very rich by his father ; yet he had 
 no more than fifty-two slaves 1 . His work- house, of twen- 
 ty cabinet-makers, is said to be a very considerable manu- 
 factory k . 
 
 Seventhly, During the Decelian war, as the Greek his- 
 torians call it, 20,000 slaves deserted, and brought the 
 
 a De Ratione Red. * See Note [GG.] c Athen. lib. vi. 
 
 * De Rep. Athen. « Philip. 5. f Sticho. 
 
 s Contra Tiraarch. * Orat. 11. 5 Contra Aphok 
 6 Ibid.
 
 i'20 fcSSAY XI. 
 
 Athenians to great distress, as we learn from Thucydides 1 ^ 
 This could not have happened had they been only the 
 twentieth part. The best slaves would not desert. 
 
 Eighthly, Xenophon b proposes a scheme for maintain- 
 ing by the public 10,000 slaves : And that so great a num- 
 ber may possibly be supported, any one will be convinced^ 
 says he, who considers the numbers we possessed before 
 the Decclian war ; a way of speaking altogether incom- 
 patible with the larger number of Athenaeus. 
 
 Ninthly, The whole census of the state of Athens was less 
 than 6000 talents. And though numbers in ancient ma- 
 nuscripts be often suspected by critics, yet this is unexcep- 
 tionable; both because Demosthenes , who gives it, gives 
 also the detail, which checks him ; and because Polybius d 
 assigns the same number, and reasons upon it. Now, the 
 most vulgar slave could yield by his labour an obolus a-day, 
 over and above his maintenance, as we learn from Xeno- 
 phon e , who says, that Nicias's overseer paid his master so 
 much for slaves, whom he employed in mines. If you will 
 take the pains to estimate an obolus a-day, and the slaves 
 at 400,000, computing only at four years' purchase, you 
 will find the sum above 12,000 talents j even though allow- 
 ance be made for the great number of holidays in Athens, 
 Besides, many of the slaves would have a much greater va- 
 lue from their art. The lowest that Demosthenes estimates 
 any of his f father's slaves is two minas a-head. And up- 
 on this supposition, it is a little difficult, I confess, to re- 
 concile even the number of 40,000 slaves with the census 
 of 6000 talents. 
 
 Tenthly, Chios is said by Thucydides s , to contain more 
 
 a Lib. vii. b De Rat lied. c De Classibus. 
 
 * Lib. ii. cap. 62. e De Rat. Red. f Contra Aphobum, 
 
 * Lib. viii.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 421 
 
 slaves than any Greek city, except Sparta. Sparta then 
 had more than Athens, in proportion to the number of ci- 
 tizens. The Spartans were 9000 in the town, 30,000 in 
 the country a . The male slaves, therefore, of full age, must 
 have been more than 780,000 ; the whole more than 
 3,120,000; a number impossible to be maintained in a 
 narrow barren country, such as Laconia, which had no 
 trade. Had the Helotes been so very numerous, the mur- 
 der of 2000, mentioned by Thucydides 5 , would have irri- 
 tated them, without weakening them. 
 
 Besides, we are to consider, that the number assigned 
 by Atheneeus c , whatever it is, comprehends all the inha- 
 bitants of Attica, as well as those of Athens. The Athe- 
 nians affected much a country life, as we learn from Thu- 
 cydides d ; and when they were all chased into town, by the 
 invasion of their territory during the Peloponnesian war, 
 the city was not able to contain them ; and they were ob- 
 liged to lie in the porticos, temples, and even streets, for 
 want of lodging e . 
 
 The same remark is to be extended to all the other 
 Greek cities ; and when the number of citizens is assign- 
 ed, we must always understand it to comprehend the in- 
 habitants of the neighbouring country, as well as of the 
 city. Yet even with this allowance, it must be confessed 
 that Greece was a populous country, and exceeded what 
 we could imagine concerning so narrow a territory, natu- 
 rally not very fertile, and which drew no supplies of corn 
 
 k Plutarch, in vita Lycurg. b Lib. iv. 
 
 c The same author affirms, that Corinth had once 400,000 slaves; iEgina 
 470,000. But the foregoirrg arguments hold stronger against these facts, 
 which are indeed entirely absurd and impossible. It is however remarkable, 
 that Athenauis cites so great an authority as Aristotle for this last fact : Ani 
 the scholiast on Pindar mentions the same number of slaves in JEgiua. 
 * Lib. >i. e Thucyd, lib. h.
 
 4-22 ESSAY XI. 
 
 from other places. For, excepting Athens, which traded 
 to Pontus for that commodity, the other cities seem to 
 have subsisted chiefly from their neighbouring territory a . 
 
 Rhodes is well known to have been a city of extensive 
 commerce, and of great fame and splendour ; yet it con- 
 tained only 6000 citizens able to bear arms when it was 
 besieged by Demetrius b . 
 
 Thebes was always one of the capital cities of Greece c ; 
 but the number of its citizens exceeded not those of 
 Rhodes' 1 . Phliasia is said to be a small city by Xeno- 
 phon e , yet we find that it contained 6000 citizens f . I 
 pretend not to reconcile these two facts. Perhaps Xeno- 
 phon calls Phliasia a small town, because it made but a 
 small figure in Greece, and maintained only a subordinate 
 alliance with Sparta ; or perhaps the country, belonging 
 to it, was extensive, and most of the citizens were employ- 
 ed in the cultivation of it, and dwelt in the neighbouring 
 villages. 
 
 Mantinea was equal to any city in Arcadia g . Conse- 
 quently it was equal to Megalopolis, which was fifty sta- 
 dia, or six miles and a quarter in circumference h . But 
 Mantinea had only 3000 citizens '. The Greek cities, 
 therefore, contained often fields and gardens, together with 
 the houses-, and we cannot judge of them by the extent of 
 their walls. Athens contained no more than 10,000 
 houses ; yet its walls, with the sea-coast, were above twen- 
 ty miles in extent. Syracuse was twenty-two miles in cir- 
 cumference; yet was scarcely ever spoken of by the an- 
 
 * See Note [HE] b Diocl. Sic. lib. xx. 
 
 r Isocr. paneg. d See Note [II.] 
 
 '• Hist. Grrcc. lib. vii. f Id. lib. vii. 
 
 s Polyb. lib. ii. h Tolyb. lib. ix. cap. 20. 
 
 ' Lysias, Orat. 34.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 423 
 
 cients as more populous than Athens. Babylon was a 
 square of fifteen miles, or sixty miles in circuit ; but it con- 
 tained large cultivated fields and inclosures, as we learn 
 from Pliny. Though Aurelian's wall was fifty miles in 
 circumference a , the circuit of all the thirteen divisions of 
 Rome, taken apart, according to Publius Victor, was on- 
 ly about forty-three miles. When an enemy invaded the 
 country, all the inhabitants retired within the walls of the 
 ancient cities, with their cattle and furniture, and instru- 
 ments of husbandry : and the great height to which the 
 walls were raised, enabled a small number to defend them 
 with facility. 
 
 Sparta, says Xenophon b , is one of the cities of Greece 
 that has the fewest inhabitants. Yet Polybius c says that it 
 was forty-eight stadia in circumference, and was round. 
 
 All the iEtolians able to bear arms in Antipater's time, 
 deducting some few garrisons, were but 10,000 men d . 
 
 Polybius c tells us, that the Achaean league might, with- 
 out any inconvenience, march 30 or 40,000 men : And 
 this account seems probable ; for that league comprehend- 
 ed the greater part of Peloponnesus. Yet Pausanius f , 
 speaking of the same period, says, that all the Achaeans 
 able to bear arms, even when several manumitted slaves 
 were joined to them, did not amount to 15,000. 
 
 The Thessalians, till their final conquest by the Ro- 
 mans, were, in all ages, turbulent, factious, seditious, dis- 
 orderly s. It is not therefore natural to suppose that this 
 part of Greece abounded much in people. 
 
 a Vopiscus in vita Aurel. 
 
 b De Rep. Laced. This passage is not easily reconciled with that of Plu- 
 tarch above, who says that Sparta had 9000 citizens. 
 
 c Polyb. lib. ix. cap. xx. d Diod. Sic. xviii. 
 
 ' Legat. f I„ Achaicis. 
 
 s Tit. Liv. lib, xxxir. cap. SI, Plato in Critone.
 
 424- ESSAY XI. 
 
 We are told by Thucydides a , that the part of Pelopon- 
 nesus, adjoining to Pylos, was desert and uneultivatcd. 
 Herodotus says b , that Macedonia was full of lions and 
 wild bulls; animals which can only inhabit vast unpeopled 
 forests. These were the two extremities of Greece. 
 
 All the inhabitants of Epirus, of all ages, sexes, and 
 conditions, who were sold by Paulus iEmiJius, amounted 
 only to 150,000 c . Yet Epirus might be double the ex- 
 tent of Yorkshire. 
 
 Justin d tells us, that when Philip of Macedon was de- 
 clared head of the Greek confederacy, he called a congress 
 of all the states, except the Lacedemonians, who refused 
 to concur ; and he found the force of the whole, upon 
 computation, to amount to 200,000 infantry and 15,000 
 cavalry. This must be understood to be all the citizens 
 capable of bearing arms. For as the Greek republics 
 maintained no mercenary forces, and had no militia dis- 
 tinct from the whole body of citizens, it is not conceivable 
 what other medium there couid be of computation. That 
 such an army could ever, by Greece, be brought into the 
 field, and be maintained there, is contrary to all history. 
 Upon this supposition, therefore, we may thus reason. 
 The free Greeks of all ages and sexes were 8^0,000. The 
 slaves, estimating them by the number of Athenian slaves 
 as above, who seldom married or had families, were double 
 the male citizens of full age, to wit, 430,000. And all the 
 inhabitants of ancient Greece, excepting Laconia, were 
 about one million two hundred and ninety thousand : No 
 mighty number, nor exceeding what may be found at pre- 
 sent in Scotland, a country of not much greater extent, and 
 very indifferently peopled. 
 
 a Lib. vii. b Lib. vii. 
 
 * Tit. Liv. lib. xlv. cap. 34. * Lib. is. cap. 5.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 425 
 
 We may now consider the numbers of people in Rome 
 and Italy, and collect all the lights afforded us by scattered 
 passages in ancient authors. We shall find, upon the 
 whole, a great difficulty in fixing any opinion on that 
 head j and no reason to support those exaggerated calcu- 
 lations, so much insisted on by modern writers. 
 
 Dionysius Hallicarnassaeus a says, that the ancient walls 
 of Rome were nearly of the same compass with those of 
 Athens, but that the suburbs ran out to a great extent j 
 and it was difficult to tell where the town ended or the 
 country began. In some places of Rome, it appears, from 
 the same author 5 , from Juvenal , and from other ancient 
 writers' 1 , that the houses were high, and families lived in 
 separate stories, one above another : But it is probable 
 that these were only the poorer citizens, and only in some 
 few streets. It' we may judge from the younger Pliny's c 
 account of his own house, and from Bartoli's plans of an- 
 cient buildings, the men of quality had very spacious pa- 
 laces : and their buildings were like the Chinese houses at 
 this day, where each apartment is separated from the rest, 
 and rises no higher than a single story. To which if we 
 add, that the Roman nobility much affected extensive por- 
 ticoes, and even woods f in town ; we may perhaps allow 
 Yossius, (though there is no manner of reason for it) to 
 read the famous passage of the elder Pliny s his own way, 
 without admitting the extravagant consequences which he 
 draws from it. 
 
 The number of citizens who received corn by the public 
 
 a Lib. iv. b Lib. x. c Satyr, iii. 1. 269, 270. 
 
 d See Note [KK.] * Sec Note [LL.] 
 
 1 Vitruv. lib. iv. cap. 11. Tacit. AnnaL lib. xi. cap. 3. Sueton. in vita 
 Octav. cap. Ti, &c. 
 - See Note [MM.]
 
 £23 ESSAY XI. 
 
 distribution in the time of Augustus were two hundred 
 thousand 3 . This one would esteem a pretty certain 
 ground of calculation ; yet it is attended with sucli cir- 
 cumstances as throw us back into doubt and uncertainty. 
 
 Did the poorer citizens only receive the distribution ? 
 It was calculated, to be sure, chiefly for their benefit. But 
 it appears from a passage in Cicero b that the rich might 
 also take their portion, and that it was esteemed no re- 
 proach in them to apply for it. 
 
 To whom was the corn given ; whether only to heads 
 of families, or to every man, woman and child ? The por- 
 tion every month was five modii to each c (about five-sixths 
 of a bushel). This was too little for a family, and too much 
 for an individual. A very accurate antiquary u , therefore, 
 infers, that it was given to every man of full age : But he 
 allows the matter to be uncertain. 
 
 Was it strictly inquired, whether the claimant lived 
 within the precincts of Rome ? or was it sufficient that he 
 presented himself at the monthly distribution ? This last 
 seems more probable e . 
 
 Were there no false claimants ? We are told f , that 
 Caesar struck off at once 170,000, who had creeped in 
 without a just title ; and it is very little probable that he 
 remedied all abuses. 
 
 * Ex monument. Ancyr. b Tusc. Quocst. lib. iii. cap. 48. 
 
 ' Licinius apud hallust. Hist. Frag. lib. iii. 
 
 "* Nicolaus Hortensius De lie Frumentaria Roman. 
 
 e Not to take tlie people too much from their business, Augustus ordained 
 the distribution of corn to be made only thrice a- year: But the people find- 
 ing the monthly distributions more convenient (as preserving, I suppose, a 
 more regular economy in their family), desired to have them restored. Sue- 
 ton. August, cap. 40. Had not some of people come from some distance 
 for their corn, Augustus's precaution seems superfluous. 
 
 ' Sueton. in Jul. cap. 41.
 
 FOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 427 
 
 But lastly, what proportion of slaves must we assign to 
 these citizens ? This is the most material question, and 
 the most uncertain. It is very doubtful whether Athens 
 can be established as a rule for Rome. Perhaps the Athe- 
 nians had more slaves, because they employed them in ma- 
 nufactures, for which a capital city, like Rome, seems not 
 so proper. Perhaps, on the other hand, the Romans had 
 more slaves on account of their superior luxury and riches. 
 There were exact bills of mortality kept at Rome ; but 
 no ancient author has given us the number of burials, ex- 
 cept Suetonius a , who tells us, that in one season there were 
 30,000 names carried to the temple of Libetina : But this 
 was during a plague, which can afford no certain founda- 
 tion for any inference. 
 
 The public corn, though distributed only to 200,000 ci- 
 tizens, affected very considerably the whole agriculture of 
 Italy b ; a fact nowise reconcilcable to some modern exag- 
 gerations with regard to the inhabitants of that country. 
 
 The best ground of conjecture I can find concerning the 
 greatness of ancient Rome is this : We are told by Hero- 
 dian c , that Antioch and Alexandria were very little in- 
 ferior to Rome. It appears from Diodorus Siculus d that 
 one straight street of Alexandria, reaching from gate to 
 gate, was five miles long ; and as Alexandria was much 
 more extended in length than breadth, it seems to have 
 been a city nearly of the bulk of Paris e ; and Rome might 
 be about the size of London. 
 
 There lived in Alexandria, in Diodorus Siculus's time f , 
 300,000 free people, comprehending, I suppose, women and 
 
 a In vita Neronis. b Sueton. Aug. cap. 42, 
 
 ' Lib, iv. cap. 5. d Lib. xvii. 
 
 '■ See Note [NN.] f Lib. xvii.
 
 428 ESSAY XI. 
 
 children a . But what number of slaves ? Had we any just 
 ground to fix these at an equal number with the free in- 
 habitants, it would favour the foregoing computation. 
 
 There is a passage in Herodian which is a little surpri- 
 sing. He says positively, that the palace of the Emperor 
 was as large as all the rest of the city b . This was Nero's 
 golden house, which is indeed represented by Suetonius c 
 and Pliny as of an enormous extent d ; but no power of 
 imagination can make us conceive it to bear any propor- 
 tion to such a city as London. 
 
 We may observe, had the historian been relating Nero's 
 extravagance, and had he made use of such an expression, 
 it would have had much less weight ; these rhetorical ex- 
 aggerations being so apt to creep into an author's style, 
 even when the most chaste and correct. But it is mention- 
 ed by Herodian only by the bye, in relating the quarrels 
 between Geta and Caracalla. 
 
 It appears from the same historian e , that there was then 
 much land uncultivated, and put to no manner of use ; 
 and he ascribes it as a great praise to Pertinax, that he 
 allowed every one to take such land, either in Italy or 
 elsewhere, and cultivate it as he pleased, without paying 
 any taxes. Lands uncultivated, and imt to no manner of 
 use ! This is not heard of in any part of Christendom, ex- 
 cept in some remote parts of Hungary, as I have been in- 
 formed : And surely it corresponds very ill with that idea of 
 the extreme populousness of antiquity so much insisted on. 
 
 a lie says i\cvO(po, not woXjtki, which last expression must have been un- 
 derstood of citizens alone, and grown men. 
 
 b Lib. iv. cap. i. 7raa-tit «Jna{. Politian interprets it, " aedibus majoribuh 
 etiam reliqua urbe." 
 
 o See Note [OCX] 
 
 d Plinius, lib. xxxvi. cap. 15. " Bis vidimus urbem totam cingi domibu* 
 " principum, Caii ac Neronis." 
 
 * Lib. ii. cap. 15.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. A'2 ; J 
 
 We learn from Vopiscus a , that there was even in Etru- 
 ria much fertile land uncultivated, which the emperor Au- 
 relian intended to convert into vineyards, in order to fur- 
 nish the Roman people with a gratuitous distribution of 
 wine ; a very proper expedient for depopulating still far* 
 thcr that capital, and all the neighbouring territories. 
 
 It may not be amiss to take notice of the account which 
 Polybius b gives of the great herds of swine to be met with 
 in Tuscany and Lombardy, as well as in Greece, and of 
 the method of feeding them which was then practised. 
 " There are great herds of swine," says he, " throughout 
 " all Italy, particularly in former times, through Etruria 
 " and Cisalpine Gaul. And a herd frequently consists of 
 " a thousand or more swine. When one of these herd in 
 " feeding meets with another, they mix together; and the 
 " swine-herds have no other expedient for separating them 
 " than to go to different quarters, where they sound their 
 " horn ; and these animals, being accustomed to that sig- 
 *' nal, run immediately each to the horn of his own keep- 
 " er. Whereas in Greece, if the herds of swine happen 
 " to mix in the forests, he who has the greater flock takes 
 " cunningly the opportunity of driving all away. And 
 " thieves are very apt to purloin the straggling hoo-s, 
 " which have wandered to a great distance from their 
 " keeper in search of food." 
 
 May we not infer, from this account, that the north of 
 Italy, as well as Greece, was then much less peopled, and 
 worse cultivated than at present ? How could these vast 
 herds be fed in a country so full of inclosures, so improved 
 by agriculture, so divided by farms, so planted with vines 
 and corn intermingled together ? I must confess, that Po- 
 
 * In Aurelian, cap, 48. Lib. zii. cap. ?.
 
 430 ESSAY XI. 
 
 lybius's relation has more the air of that economy which is 
 to be met with in our American colonies, than the manage- 
 ment of an European country. 
 
 We meet with a reflection in Aristotle's a Ethics, which 
 seems unaccountable on any supposition, and by proving 
 too much in favour of our present reasoning, may be 
 thought really to prove nothing. That philosopher, treat- 
 ing of friendship, and observing, that this relation ought 
 neither to be contracted to a very few, nor extended over 
 a great multitude, illustrates his opinion by the following 
 argument : " In like manner," says he, " as a city cannot 
 " subsist, if it either have so few inhabitants as ten, or so 
 " many as a hundred thousand •, so is there a mediocrity 
 " required in the number of friends; and you destroy the 
 " essence of friendship by running into either extreme." 
 What ! impossible that a city can contain a hundred thou- 
 sand inhabitants ! Had Aristotle never seen nor heard of 
 a city so populous ? This, I must own, passes my compre- 
 hension. 
 
 Pliny b tells us, that Seleucia, the seat of the Greek em- 
 pire in the East, was reported to contain 600,000 people. 
 Carthage is said by Strabo c to have contained 700,000. 
 The inhabitants of Pekin are not much more numerous. 
 London, Paris, and Constantinople, may admit of nearly 
 the same computation ; at least, the two latter cities do not 
 exceed it. Rome, Alexandria, Antioch, we have already 
 spoken of. From the experience of past and present ages, 
 one might conjecture that there is a kind of impossibility 
 that any city could ever rise much beyond this proportion. 
 Whether the grandeur of a city be founded on commerce 
 
 a Lib. ix. cap. 10. His expression is ?rv9f«Tff?, not -roxirr^, inhabitant, 
 not citizen. 
 
 b Lib. Ti. 28. « Lib. xvii.
 
 1'OPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 431 
 
 or on empire, there seem to be invincible obstacles which 
 prevent its farther progress. The seats of vast monar- 
 chies, by introducing extravagant luxury, irregular ex- 
 pence, idleness, dependence, and false ideas of rank and 
 superiority, are improper for commerce. Extensive com- 
 merce checks itself, by raising the price of all labour and 
 commodities. When a great court engages the attend- 
 ance of a numerous nubility, possessed of overgrown for- 
 tunes, the middling gentry remain in their provincial towns, 
 where they can make a figure on a moderate income. And 
 if the dominions of a state arrive at an enormous size, there 
 necessarily arise many capitals, in the remoter provinces, 
 whither all the inhabitants, except a few courtiers, repair 
 for education, fortune, and amusement a . London, by 
 uniting extensive commerce and middling empire, has per- 
 haps arrived at a greatness which no city will ever be able 
 to exceed. 
 
 Choose Dover or Calais for a centre : Draw a circle of 
 two hundred miles radius : You comprehend London, 
 Paris, the Netherlands, the United Provinces, and some of 
 the best cultivated parts of France and England. It may 
 safely, I think, be affirmed, that no spot of ground can be 
 found, in antiquity, of equal extent, which contained near 
 so many great and populous cities, and was so stocked with 
 riches and inhabitants. 
 
 To balance, in both periods, the states which possessed 
 most art, knowledge, civility, and the best police, seems 
 the truest method of comparison. 
 
 It is an observation of L'abbo du Bos, that Italy is 
 
 1 Such were Alexandria, Anticch, Carthage, Ephesus, Lyons, &c. in the 
 Roman empire. Such are even Bourdeaux, Thoulouse, Dijon, Kcnnes, 
 Rouen, Aix, &c. in France ; Dublin, Edinburgh, York, in the British do- 
 minions.
 
 432 ESSAY XI. 
 
 warmer at present than it was in ancient times. " The 
 " annals of Rome tell us," says he, " that in the year 480 
 " ab U. C. the winter was so severe that it destroyed the 
 " trees. The Tyber froz <-. in Rome, and the ground was 
 " covered with snow for forty days. When Juvenal * de- 
 " scribes a superstitious woman he represents her as break- 
 '* ing the ice of the Tyber, that she might perform her 
 " ablutions : 
 
 " Hyberuum fracta glacie descendet in ansnem, 
 " Ter matutino Tyberi mergetur. 
 
 " He speaks of that river's freezing as a common event. 
 " Many passages of Horace suppose the streets of Rome 
 " full of snow and ice. We should have more certainty 
 " with regard to this point, had the ancients known the 
 " use of thermometers : But their writers, without intend- 
 " ing it, give us information, sufficient to convince us, that 
 " the winters are now much more temperate at Rome than 
 " formerly. At present the Tyber no more freezes at 
 " Rome than the Nile at Cairo. The Romans esteem the 
 " winters very rigorous if the snow lie two days, and if 
 " one see for eight and fortv hours a few icicles hang from 
 " a fountain that has a north exposure." 
 
 The observation of this ingenious critic may be extend- 
 ed to other European climates. Who could discover the 
 mild climate of France in Diodorus Siculus's b description 
 of that of Gaul ? " As it is a northern climate," says he, 
 " it \> infested with cold to an extreme degree. In cloudy 
 '* weather, instead of rain, there fall great snows \ and in 
 " clear weather it there freezes so excessive hard, that the 
 " rivers acquire bridges of their own substance \ over 
 
 » Sat. G. " Lib. iv.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 433 
 
 ft which, not only single travellers may pass, but large ar- 
 " mies, accompanied with all their baggage and loaded 
 " waggons. And there being many rivers in Gaul, the 
 " Rhone, the Rhine, &c. almost all of them are frozen 
 " over ; and it is usual, in order to prevent falling, to co- 
 " ver the ice with chaff' and straw at the places where the 
 " road passes." Colder than a Gallic Winter, is used by 
 Petronius as a proverbial expression. Aristotle says, that 
 Gaul is so cold a climate that an ass could not live in it a . 
 
 North of the Cevennes, says Strabo b , Gaul produces 
 not figs and olives : And the vines, which have been plant- 
 ed, bear not grapes that will ripen. 
 
 Ovid positively maintains, with all the serious affirm- 
 ation of prose, that the Euxine Sea was frozen over every 
 winter in his time, and he appeals to Roman governors, 
 whom he names, for the truth of his assertion c . This sel- 
 dom or never happens at present in the latitude of Tomi, 
 whither Ovid was banished. All the complaints of the 
 same poet seem to mark a rigour of the seasons, which is 
 scarcely experienced at present in Petersburgh or Stock- 
 holm. 
 
 Tournefort, a Provengal, who had travelled into the 
 same country, observes, that there is not a finer climate 
 in the world : And he asserts, that nothing but Ovid's 
 melancholy could have given him such dismal ideas of it. 
 But the facts, mentioned by that poet, are too circum- 
 stantial to bear any such interpretation. 
 
 Polybius d says, that the climate in Arcadia was very 
 cold, and the air moist. 
 
 a De Generat. Anim. lib. ii. b Lib. iv. 
 
 • Trist lib. iii. eleg. 9. De Ponto, lib. iv. eleg. 7, 9, 10. 
 d Lib. iv. cap. 21. 
 VOL. I. 2r
 
 434 ESSAY XI. 
 
 " Italy," says Varro a , *' is the most temperate climate 
 " in Europe. The inland parts, (Gaul, Germany, and 
 " Pannonia, no doubt) have almost perpetual winter." 
 
 The northern parts of Spain, according to Strabo b , are 
 but ill inhabited, because of the great cold. 
 
 Allowing, therefore, this remark to be just, that Europe 
 is become warmer than formerly ; how can we account for 
 it ? Plainly, by no other method, than by supposing, that 
 the land is at present much better cultivated, and that the 
 woods are cleared, which formerly threw a shade upon the 
 earth, and kept the rays of the sun from penetrating to it. 
 Our northern colonies in America become more temperate 
 in proportion as the woods are felled c ; but, in general, 
 every one may remark, that cold is still much more severe- 
 ly felt, both in North and South America, than in places 
 under the same latitude in Europe. 
 
 Saserna, quoted by Columella d , affirmed, that the dis- 
 position of the heavens was altered before his time, and 
 that the air had become much milder and warmer; as ap- 
 pears hence, says he, that many places now abound with 
 vineyards and olive plantations, which formerly, by reason 
 of the rigour of the climate, could raise none of these pro- 
 ductions. Such a change, if real, will be allowed an evi- 
 dent sign of the better cultivation and peopling of countries 
 before the age of Saserna e ; and if it be continued to the 
 
 a Lib. i. cap. '2. b Lib. iii. 
 
 ' The warm southern colonics also become more healthful : And it is, re- 
 markable, that in the Spanish histories oi'tlie first discovery and conquest of 
 these countries, they appear to have been very healthful ; being then well 
 peopled and cultivated. No account of the sickness or decay of Cortes's or 
 Pizarro's small annie:;. 
 
 Lib. i. cap, 1. 
 
 1 lie seems to have lived about the time, of the younger Africanus • lib- 
 ). cap. J,
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 435 
 
 present times, is a proof that these advantages have been 
 continually increasing throughout this part of the world. 
 
 Let us now cast our eye over all the countries which are 
 the scene of ancient and modern history, and compare 
 their past and present situation : We shall not, perhaps, 
 find such foundation for the complaint of the present empti- 
 ness and desolation of the world, ^gypt is represented 
 by Maillet, to whom we owe the best account of it, as ex- 
 tremely populous ; though he esteems the number of its 
 inhabitants to be diminished. Syria, and the Lesser Asia, 
 as well as the coasts of Barbary, I can readily own to be 
 desert in comparison of their ancient condition. The 
 depopulation of Greece is also obvious. But whether the 
 country now called Turkey in Europe may not, in general, 
 contain more inhabitants than during the flourishing period 
 of Greece, may be a little doubtful. The Thracians seem 
 then to have lived like the Tartars at present, by pastu- 
 rage and plunder a : TheGetes were still more uncivilized b : 
 And the lllyrians were no better c : These occupy nine- 
 tenths of that country : And though the government of 
 the Turks be not very favourable to industry and propaga- 
 tion •, yet it preserves at least peace and order among the 
 inhabitants, and is preferable to that barbarous, unsettled 
 condition in which they anciently lived. 
 
 Poland and Muscovy in Europe are not populous; but 
 are certainly much more so than the ancient Sarmatia and. 
 Scythia, where no husbandry or tillage was ever heard of, 
 and pasturage was the sole art by which the people were 
 maintained. The like observation may be extended to 
 Denmark and Sweden. No one outdit to esteem the im~ 
 
 1 Xenop. Exp. lib. viii. Polyb. lib, iv. cap. 45. 
 
 b Ovid, passim, &c. Strabo, lib. vii. c Polyb. lib. ii. cap. 12,
 
 436 ESSAY Xf. 
 
 monse swarms of people which formerly came from the 
 North, and over-ran all Europe, to be any objection to this 
 opinion. Where a whole nation, or even halt of it, re- 
 move their seat, it is easy to imagine what a prodigious 
 multitude they must form ; with what desperate valour 
 they must make their attacks ; and how the terror they 
 strike into the invaded nations will make these magnify, in 
 their imagination, both the courage and multitude of the 
 invaders. Scotland is neither extensive nor poptlous ; 
 but were the half of its inhabitants to seek new seats, they 
 would form a colony as numerous as the Teutons and Cim- 
 Ijri ; and would shake all Europe, supposing it in no better 
 condition for defence than formerly. 
 
 Germany has surely at present twenty times more in- 
 habitants than in ancient times, when they cultivated no 
 ground, and each tribe valued itself on the extensive deso- 
 lation which it spread around ; as we learn from Caesar % 
 and Tacitus b , and Strabo c ; a proof, that the division 
 into small republics will not alone render a nation popu- 
 lous, unless attended with the spirit of peace, order, and 
 industry. 
 
 The barbarous condition of Britain in former times is 
 well known, and the thinness of its inhabitants may easily 
 be conjectured, both from their barbarity, and bom a 
 circumstance mentioned by Herodian d 3 thai all Britain was 
 marshy, even 'n Severus's time, after the Romans had 
 been fully settled in it above a century. 
 
 It is not easily imagined, that the Gauls were anciently 
 much more advanced in the arts of life than their northern 
 neighbours ; since they travelled to this island for their 
 
 * DeBcllo Gallico, lib. vi. u De Moribus Genu. 
 
 c Lib. vii. d Lib. iii. c;ir>. 47.
 
 roruLOusNEss of ancient nations. 437 
 
 education in the mysteries of the religion and philosophy 
 of the Druids a . I cannot, therefore, think that Gaul was 
 then near so populous as France is at present. 
 
 Were we to believe, indeed, and join together, the tes- 
 timony of Appian, and that of Diodorus Siculus, we must 
 admit of an incredible populousness in Gaul. The former 
 historian b says, that there were 400 nations in that coun- 
 try ; the latter e affirms, that the largest of the Gallic na- 
 tions consisted of 200,000 men, besides women and chil- 
 dren, and the least of 50,000. Calculating, therefore, at 
 a medium, we must admit of near '200,000,000 of people 
 in a country which we esteem populous at present, though 
 supposed to contain little more than twenty d . Such cal- 
 culations, therefore, by their extravagance, lose all man- 
 ner of authority. We may observe, that the equality of 
 property, to which the populousness of antiquity may be 
 ascribed, had no place among the Gauls e . Their intes- 
 tine wars also, before Caesar's time, were almost perpetual f . 
 And Strabo s observes, that though all Gaul was cultiva- 
 ted, yet was it not cultivaied with any skill or care : the 
 genius of the inhabitants leading them less to arts than 
 arms, till their slavery under Rome produced peace among 
 themselves. 
 
 Caesar 1 - enumerates very particularly the great forces 
 which were levied in Belgium to oppose his conquests; 
 and makes them amount to 208,000. These were not the 
 whole people able to bear arms : For the same historian 
 tells us, that the Bellovaci could have brought a hundred 
 
 a Caesar de Bello Gallico, lib. xvi. Strabo, lib. vii. says, the Gauls were 
 not much more improved than the Germans. 
 
 b Celt, pars 1. ° Lib. v. 
 
 d Ancient Gaul was more extensive than modern France. 
 e Caesar de Bello Gallico, lib. vi. f Id. ibid. 
 
 * Lib. it. »» De Bello Gallico, lib. if.
 
 438 ESSAY XI. 
 
 thousand men into the field, though they engaged only for 
 sixty. Taking the whole, therefore, in this proportion of 
 ten to six, the sum of fighting men in all the states of Bel- 
 gium was about 350,000 ; all the inhabitants a million and 
 a half. And Belgium being about a fourth of Gaul, that 
 country might contain six millions, which is not near the 
 third of its present inhabitants a . We are informed by 
 Caesar, that the Gauls had no fixed property in land ; but 
 that the chieftains, when any death happened in a family, 
 made a new division of all the lands among the several 
 members of the family. This is the custom of Tanistry, 
 which so long prevailed in Ireland, and which retained 
 that country in a state of misery, barbarism, and desola- 
 tion. 
 
 The ancient Helvetia was 250 miles in length, and 180 
 in breadth, according to the same author b ; yet contained 
 only 360,000 inhabitants. The canton of Berne alone has, 
 at present, as many people. 
 
 After this computation of Appian and Diodorus Siculus, 
 I know not whether I dare affirm, that the modern Dutch 
 are more numerous than the ancient Batavi. 
 
 Spain is, perhaps, decayed from what it was three cen- 
 turies ago ; but if we step backward two thousand years, 
 and consider the restless, turbulent, unsettled condition of 
 its inhabitants we may probably be inclined to think that 
 it is now much more populous. Many Spaniards killed 
 themselves when deprived of their arms by the Romans c . 
 It appears from Plutarch d , that robbery and plunder were 
 esteemed honourable among the Spaniards. Hirtius c re- 
 presents in the same light the situation of that country in 
 
 « See Note [PR] «" Dc Bello Gailico, lib. i. 
 
 ' Titi Livii, lib. xxxiv. cap. 17- a In vita Marii. e De Bello Ilisp.
 
 POPULOUSN'ESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 1-39 
 
 Caesar's time; and be says, that every man was obliged to 
 live in castles and walled towns for bis security. It was 
 not till its final conquest under Augustus, that these dis- 
 orders were repressed a . The account which Strabo b and 
 Justin c gave of Spain, corresponds exactly with those 
 above mentioned. How much, therefore, must it diminish 
 from our idea of the populousness of antiquity, when we 
 find that Tully, comparing Italy, Africa, Gaul, Greece, 
 and Spain, mentions the great number of inhabitants as 
 the peculiar circumstance which rendered this latter coun- 
 try formidable d ? 
 
 Italy, however, it is probable, has decayed : But how 
 many great cities does it still contain ? Venice, Genoa, 
 Pavia, Turin, Milan, Naples, Florence, Leghorn, which 
 either subsisted not in ancient times, or were then very in- 
 considerable ? If we reflect on this, we shall not be apt to 
 carry matters to so great an extreme as is usual with re- 
 gard to this subject. 
 
 When the Roman aulhors complain that Italy, which 
 formerly exported corn, became dependent on all the pro- 
 vinces for its daily bread, they never ascribe this alteration 
 to the increase of its inhabitants, but to the neglect of til— 
 lage and agriculture e ; a natural effect of that pernicious 
 practice of importing corn, in order to distribute it gratis 
 among the Roman citizens, and a very bad means of mul- 
 
 a Veil. Paterc. lib. ii § 90. h Lib. iii. c Lib. xliv. 
 
 a " Nee numero Hispanos, nee robore Gallon, nee calliditate Poenos. nee 
 *' artibus Graecos, nee denique boc ipsos bujus gentis, ac terra; domestico 
 
 " nativoque sensu, Italos ipsos ac Latinos superavimus." De Harusp. 
 
 Ttesp. cap. 9. The disorders of Spain seem to have been almost proverbial : 
 " Nee impacatos a tergo horrebis Iberos." Virg. Georg lib. iii. The 
 Iberi are here plainly taken by a political figure, for robbers in general. 
 
 e Varro De Re ltustica, lib. ii. prajf. Columella praef. Sueton. August, 
 can. 4?,
 
 440 ESSAY XI. 
 
 tiplying the inhabitants of any country a . The sportula, 
 so much talked of by Martial and Juvenal, being presents 
 regularly made by the great lords to their smaller clients, 
 must have had a like tendency to produce idleness, de- 
 bauchery, and a continual decay among the people. The 
 parish rates have at present the same bad consequences in 
 England. 
 
 Were I to assign a period when I imagined this part of 
 the world might possibly contain more inhabitants than at 
 present, I should pitch upon the age of Trajan and the 
 Antonines ; the great extent of the Roman empire being 
 then civilized and cultivated, settled almost in a profound 
 peace, both foreign and domestic, and living under the 
 same regular police and government b . But we are told, 
 that all extensive governments, especially absolute monar- 
 chies, are pernicious to population, and contain a secret 
 vice and poison, which destroy the effect of all these pro- 
 mising appearances c . To confirm this, there is a passage 
 cited from Plutarch d , which being somewhat singular, we 
 shall here examine it. 
 
 That author, endeavouring to account for the silence 
 of many of the oracles, says, that it may be ascribed to the 
 present desolation of the world, proceeding from former 
 wars and factions ; which common calamity, he adds, has 
 fallen heavier upon Greece than on any other country ; 
 insomuch that the whole could scarcely at present furnish 
 
 * Though the observations of L' Abbe du Bos should be admitted, that 
 Italy is now warmer than in former times, the consequence may not be ne- 
 cessary, that it is more populous or better cultivated. If the other countries 
 of Europe were more savage and woody, the cold winds that blew from 
 them might affect the climate of Italy. 
 
 11 See Note [QQ.] 
 
 L'Esprit de Loix, liv. xxiii. chap. 19. 4 De Orac. Defechi.
 
 POFULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 411 
 
 three thousand warriors ; a number which, in the time of 
 the Median war, was supplied by the single city of Me- 
 gara. The gods, therefore, who affect works of dignity 
 and importance, have suppressed many of their oracles, 
 and deign not to use so many interpreters of their will to 
 so diminutive a people. 
 
 I must confess, that this passage contains so many dif- 
 ficulties, that I know not what to make of it. You may 
 observe, that Plutarch assigns, for a cause of the decay of 
 mankind, not the extensive dominion of the Romans, but 
 the former wars and factions of the several states, all which 
 were quieted by the Roman arms. Plutarch's reasoning, 
 therefore, is directly contrary to the inference which is 
 drawn from the fact he advances. 
 
 Polybius supposes, that Greece had become more pro- 
 sperous and flourishing after the establishment of the Ro- 
 man yoke a ; and though that historian wrote before these 
 conquerors had degenerated, from being the patrons, to 
 be the plunderers of mankind, yet as we find from Taci- 
 tus' , that the severity of the emperors afterwards correct- 
 ed the licence of the governors, we have no reason to think 
 that extensive monarchy so destructive as it is often repre- 
 sented. 
 
 We learn from Strabo c , that the Romans, from their 
 regard to the Greeks, maintained, to his time, most of the 
 privileges and liberties of that celebrated nation ; and 
 Nero afterwards rather increased them d . How, there- 
 fore, can we imagine that the Roman yoke was so burden- 
 some over that part of the world ? The oppression of the 
 proconsuls was checked ; and the magistracies in Greece 
 being all bestowed, in the several cities, by the free votes 
 
 2 See Note [RR.] b Annal. lib. i. cap. 2. c Lib. viii. and ix. 
 
 * Plutarch. De his qui sero a Numine puniuntur.
 
 442 ESSAY XI. 
 
 of the people, there was no necessity tor the competitors 
 to attend the Emperor's court. If great numbers were to 
 seek, their fortunes in Rome, and advance themselves by 
 learning or eloquence, the commodities of their native 
 country, many of them would return with the fortunes 
 which they hud acquired, and thereby enrich the Grecian 
 commonwealths. 
 
 But Plutarch says, that the general depopulation had 
 been more sensibly felt in Greece than in any other coun- 
 try. How is this reconcileable to its superior privileges 
 and advantages ? 
 
 Besides, this passage, by proving too much, really proves 
 nothing. Only three thousand men able to bear arms in 
 all Greece ! Who can admit so strange a proposition, 
 especially if we consider the great number of Greek cities, 
 whose names still remain in history, and which are men- 
 tioned by writers long after the age of Plutarch? There 
 are there surely ten times more people at present, when 
 there scarcely remains a city in all the bounds of ancient 
 Greece. That country is still tolerably cultivated, and 
 furnishes a sure supply of corn, in case of a scarcity in 
 Spain, Italy, or the south of France. 
 
 We may observe, that the ancient frugality of the 
 Greeks, and their equality of property, still subsisted du- 
 ring the age of Plutarch, as appears from Lucian b . Nor 
 is there any ground to imagine, that that country was 
 possessed by a few masters, and a great number of slaves. 
 
 It is probable, indeed, th t military discipline being en- 
 tirely useless, was extremely neglected in Greece after the 
 establishment of the Roman empire ; and if these com- 
 monwealths, formerly so warlike and ambitious, maintain- 
 
 ' Dc mercedc conduct! 1 ?.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 443 
 
 ed each of them a small city guard, to prevent mobbish 
 disorders, it is all they had occasion for ; and these, per- 
 haps, did not amount to J000 men throughout all Greece. 
 I own, that if Plutarch has this fact in his eye, he is here 
 guilty of a gross paralogism, and assigns causes nowise 
 proportioned to the effects. But is it so great a prodigy, 
 that an author should fall into a mistake of this nature* ? 
 
 But whatever force may remain in this passage of Plu- 
 tarch, we shall endeavour to counterbalance it by as re- 
 markable a passage in Diodorus Siculus, where the histo- 
 rian, after mentioning Ninus's army of J ,700,000 foot, and 
 200,000 horse, endeavours to support the credibility of 
 this account by some posterior facts ; and adds, that we 
 must not form a notion of the ancient populousness of 
 mankind from the present emptiness and depopulation 
 which is spread over the world b . Thus an author, who 
 lived at that very period of antiquity which is represented 
 as most populous , complains of the desolation which then 
 prevailed, gives the preference to former times, and has 
 recourse to ancient fables as a foundation for his opinion. 
 The humour of blaming the present, and admiring the 
 past, is strongly rooted in human nature, and has an in- 
 fluence even on persons endued with the profoundest judg- 
 ment and most extensive learning. 
 
 a See Notb [SS.] fc Lib. ii 
 
 • He was contemporary with Ciusar and Augustus.
 
 ESSAY XII. 
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 
 
 As no party, in the present age, can well support itself 
 without a philosophical or speculative system of principles 
 annexed to its political or practical one, we accordingly 
 find, that each of the factions, into which this nation is di- 
 vided, has reared up a fabric of the former kind, in order 
 to protect and cover that scheme of actions which it pur- 
 sues. The people being commonly very rude builders, es- 
 pecially in this speculative way, and more especially still 
 when actuated by party zeal ; it is natural to imagine, that 
 their workmanship must be a little unshapely, and disco- 
 ver evident marks of that violence and hurry in which it 
 was raised. The one party, by tracing up government to 
 the Deity, endeavour to render it so sacred and invio- 
 late, that it must be little less than sacrilege, however ty- 
 rannical it may become, to touch or invade it, in the small- 
 est article. The other party, by founding government al- 
 together on the consent of the People, suppose that there 
 is a kind of original contract, by which the subjects have 
 tacitly reserved the power of resisting the sovereign, when- 
 ever they find themselves aggrieved by that authority, with 
 which they have, for certain purposes, voluntarily entrust- 
 ed him. These are the speculative principles of the two
 
 or THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 44i 
 
 parties ; ant] these too are the practical consequences de- 
 duc?d from them. 
 
 ] -hal! venture to affirm, Thatboth these systems of spe- 
 culative jrrniciples are just ; /hough not in the sense intend- 
 ed by the parties: And, Thai both the schemes of practical 
 com quences are prudent; though not in the extremes to 
 which each party, in opposition to I lie other ; has commonly 
 endeavoured to cuirij them. 
 
 That the D"ity ;l- the ultimate author of all government, 
 will never be denied by any, who admit a general provi- 
 dence, and allow, that all events in the universe are con- 
 ducted by an uniform plan, and directed to wise purposes. 
 As it is impossible for the human race to subsist, at least 
 in any comfortable and secure state, withoat the protection, 
 of government; this institution must certainly have been 
 intended by that beneficent Being, who u.eans the good of 
 all his creatures : And as it has universally, in fact, taken 
 place in all countries, and all ages ; we may conclude, with 
 still greater certainty, that it was inrended by that omnis- 
 cient Being, who can never be deceived by any event or 
 operation. But since he gave rise to it, not by any parti- 
 cular or miraculous interposition, but by his concealed and 
 universal efficacy, a sovereign cannot, properly speaking, 
 be called his vicegerent in any other sense than every power 
 or force, being derived from him. may be said to act by 
 his commission. Whatever actually happens is compre- 
 hended in the general plan or intention of Providence; 
 nor has the greatest and most lawful prince any more rea- 
 son, upon that account, to plead a peculiar sacretlness or 
 inviolable authority, than an inferior magistrate, or evea 
 an usurper, or even a robber and a pirate. The same Di- 
 vine Superintendant, who, for wi^e purposes, invested a 
 Titus or a Trajan with authority, did also, for purposes no
 
 44-6 ESSAY XII. 
 
 doubt equally wise, though unknown, bestow power on a 
 Borgia or an Angria. The same causes, which gave rise 
 to the sovereign power in every state, established likewise 
 every petty jurisdiction in it, and every limited authority. 
 A constable, therefore, no less than a king, acts by a di- 
 vine commission, and possesses an indefeasible right. 
 
 When we consider how nearly equal all men are in their 
 bodily force, and even in their mental powers and facul- 
 ties, till cultivated by education ; we must necessarily al- 
 low, that nothing but their own consent could at first as- 
 sociate them together, and subject them to any authority. 
 The people, if we trace government to its first origin in the 
 woods and deserts, are the source of all power and juris- 
 diction, and voluntarily, for the sake of peace and order, 
 abandoned their native liberty, and received laws from their 
 equal and companion. The conditions, upon which they 
 were willing to submit, were either expressed, or were so 
 clear and obvious, that it might well be esteemed super- 
 fluous to express them. If this, then, be meant by the 
 original contract, it cannot be denied, that all government 
 is, at first, founded on a contract, and that the most an- 
 cient rude combinations of mankind were formed chiefly 
 by that principle. In vain are we asked in what records 
 this charter of our liberties is registered. It was not writ- 
 ten on parchment, nor yet on leaves or barks of trees. It 
 preceded the use of writing and all the other civilized arts 
 of life. But we trace it plainly in the nature of man, and 
 in the equality, or something approaching equality, which 
 we find in all the individuals of that species. The force, 
 which now prevails, and which is founded on fleets and ar- 
 mies, is plainly political, and derived from authority, the 
 effect of established government. A man's natural force 
 consists only in the vigour of his limbs, and the firmness
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 447 
 
 of his courage ; which could never subject multitudes to 
 the command of one. Nothing but their own consent, and 
 their sense of the advantages resulting from peace and or- 
 der, could have had that influence. 
 
 Yet even this consent was long very imperfect, and could 
 not be the basis of a regular administration. The chief- 
 tain, who had probably acquired his influence during the 
 continuance of war, ruled more by persuasion than com- 
 mand ; and till he could employ force to reduce the re- 
 fractory and disobedient, the society could scarcely be said 
 to have attained a state of civil government. No compact 
 or agreement, it is evident, was expressly formed for gene- 
 ral submission ; an idea far beyond the comprehension of 
 savages : Each exertion of authoritv in the chieftain must 
 have been particular, and called forth by the present exi- 
 gencies of the case : The sensible utility, resulting from 
 his interposition, made these exertions become daily more 
 frequent ; and their frequency gradually produced an habi- 
 tual, and, if you please to call it so, a voluntary, and there- 
 fore precarious, acquiescence in the people. 
 
 But philosophers, who have embraced a party (if that be 
 not a contradiction in terms) are not contented with these 
 concessions. They assert, not only that government in its 
 earliest infancy arose from consent, or rather the volun- 
 tary acquiescence of the people; but also that, even at pre- 
 sent, when it has attained its full maturity, it rests on 
 no other foundation. They affirm, that all men are still 
 born equal, and owe allegiance to no prince or government, 
 unless bound by the obligation and sanction of a jnotnise. 
 And as no man, without some equivalent, would forego 
 the advantages of his native liberty, and subject himself to 
 the will of another ; this promise is always understood to 
 be conditional, and imposes on him no obligation, unless
 
 44-8 ESSAY XII. 
 
 he meet with justice and protection from his sovereign. 
 These advantages the sovereign promises him in return ; 
 and if he fail in the execution, he has broken, on his part, 
 the articles of engagement, and has thereby freed his sub- 
 ject from all obligations to allegiance. Such, according to 
 these philosophers, is the foundation of authority in every 
 government ; and such the right of resistance, possessed 
 by every subject. 
 
 But would these reason ers look abroad into the world, 
 they would meet with nothing that, in the least, corre- 
 sponds to their ideas, or can warrant so refined and philo- 
 sophical a system. On the contrary, we find every where 
 princes who claim their subjects as their property, and as- 
 sert their independent right of sovereignty, from conquest 
 or succession. We find also everywhere subjects who ac- 
 knowledge this right in their prince, and suppose them- 
 selves born under obligations of obedience to a certain so- 
 vereign, as much as under the ties of reverence and duty 
 to certain parents. These connexions are always con- 
 ceived to be equally independent of our consent, in Persia 
 and China ; in France and Spain ; and even in Holland 
 and England, wherever the doctrines above mentioned 
 have not been carefully inculcated. Obedience or subjec- 
 tion becomes so familiar, that most men never make any 
 inquiry about its origin or cause, more than about the 
 principle of gravity, resistance, or the most universal laws 
 of nature. Or if curiosity ever move them, as soon as 
 they learn that they themselves and their ancestors have, 
 for several ages, or from time immemorial, been subject to 
 such a form of government or such a family ; they imme- 
 diately acquiesce, and acknowledge their obligation to al- 
 legiance. Were you to preach, in most parts of the world, 
 rhat political connexions are founded altogether on volun-
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 
 
 44S 
 
 tafy consent or a mutual promise, the magistrate would 
 soon imprison you as seditious for loosening the ties of 
 obedience; if your friends did not before shut you up as 
 delirious, for advancing such absurdities. It is strange, 
 that an act of the mind, which every individual is supposed 
 to have formed, and after he came to the use of reason too, 
 otherwise it could have no authority ; that this act, I say, 
 should be so much unknown to all of them, that, over the 
 face of the whole earth, there scarcely remain any traces 
 or memory of it. 
 
 But the contract, on which government is founded, is 
 said to be the original contract ; and consequently may be 
 supposed too old to fall under the knowledge of the pre- 
 sent generation. If the agreement, by which ravage men 
 first associated and conjoined their force, be here meant, 
 this is acknowledged to be real ; but being so ancient, and 
 being obliterated by a thousand changes of government 
 and princes, it cannot now be supposed to retain any au- 
 thority. If we would say any thing to the purpose, we 
 must assert, that every particular government, which is 
 lawful, and which imposes any duty of allegiance on the 
 subject, was, at first, founded on consent and a voluntary 
 compact. But besides that this supposes the consent of 
 the fathers to bind the children, even to the most remote 
 generations (which republican writers will never allow), 
 besides this, I say, it is not justified by history or expe- 
 rience in any age or country of the world. 
 
 Almost all the governments which exist at present, or 
 of which there remains any record in history, have been 
 founded originally, either on usurpation or conquest, or 
 both, without any pretence of a fair consent or voluntary 
 subjection of the people. When an artful and bold man is 
 placed at the head of an army or faction, it is often easy 
 
 VOL. I. 2 £
 
 450 ESSAY XII. 
 
 for him, by employing, sometimes violence, sometimes false 
 pretences, to establish his dominion over a people a hun- 
 dred times more numerous than his partisans. He allows 
 no such open communication, that his enemies can know, 
 with certainty, their number or force. He gives them no 
 leisure to assemble together in a body to oppose him. 
 Even all those who are the instruments of his usurpation 
 may wish his fall ; but their ignorance of each other's in- 
 tention keeps them in awe, and is the sole cause of his se- 
 curity. By such arts as these many governments have 
 been established ; and this is all the original contract which 
 they have to boast of. 
 
 The face of the earth is continually changing, by the 
 increase of small kingdoms into great empires, by the dis- 
 solution of great empires into smaller kingdoms, by the 
 planting of colonies, by the migration of tribes. Is there 
 any thing discoverable in all these events but force and 
 violence ? Where is the mutual agreement or voluntary 
 association so much talked of? 
 
 Even the smoothest way by which a nation may receive 
 a foreign master, by marriage or a will, is not extremely 
 honourable for the people ; but supposes them to be dis- 
 posed of like a dowry or a legacy, according to the plea- 
 sure or interest of their rulers. 
 
 But where no force interposes, and election takes place ; 
 what is this election so highly vaunted ? It is either the 
 combination of a few great men, who decide for the whole, 
 and will allow of no opposition ; or it is the fury of a mul- 
 titude, that follow a seditious ringleader, who is not known, 
 perhaps, to a dozen among them, and who owes his ad- 
 vancement merely to his own impudence, or to the mo- 
 mentary caprice of his fellows. 
 
 Are these disorderly elections, which are rare too, of
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 451 
 
 such mighty authority as to be the only lawful foundation 
 of all government and allegiance ? 
 
 In reality, there is not a more terrible event than a total 
 dissolution of government, which gives liberty to the mul- 
 titude, and makes the determination or choice of a new 
 establishment depend upon a number, which nearly ap- 
 proaches to that of the body of the people : For it never 
 comes entirely to the whole body of them. Every wise 
 man, then, wishes to see, at the head of a powerful and 
 obedient army, a general who may speedily seize the prize, 
 and give to the people a master which they are so unfit to 
 choose for themselves. So little correspondent is fact and 
 reality to those philosophical notions. 
 
 Let not the establishment at the Revolution deceive us, 
 or make us so much in love with a philosophical origin to 
 government, as to imagine all others monstrous and irre- 
 gular. Even that event was far from corresponding to 
 these refined ideas. It was only the succession, and that 
 only in the regal part of the government, which was then 
 changed : And it was only the majority of seven hundred, 
 who determined that change for near ten millions. I doubt 
 not, indeed, but the bulk of those ten millions acquiesced 
 willingly in the determination : But was the matter left, 
 in the least, to their choice? Was it not justly supposed 
 to be, from that moment, decided, and every man punish- 
 ed, who refused to submit to the new sovereign ? How 
 otherwise could the matter have ever been brought to any 
 issue or conclusion ? 
 
 The republic of Athens was, I believe, the most exten- 
 sive democracy that we read of in history : Yet if we make 
 the requisite allowances for the women, the slaves, and 
 the strangers, we shall find, that that establishment was 
 not at first made, nor any law ever voted, by a tenth part
 
 452 ESSAY XII. 
 
 of those who were bound to pay obedience to it; not to 
 mention the islands and foreign dominions, which the 
 Athenians claimed as theirs by right of conquest. And as 
 it is well known that popular assemblies in that city were 
 always full of licence and disorder, notwithstanding the 
 institutions and laws by which they were checked •, how 
 much more disorderly must they prove, where they form 
 not the established constitution, but meet tumultuously on 
 the dissolution of the ancient government, in order to give 
 rise to a new one ? How chimerical must it be to talk of 
 a choice in such circumstances? 
 
 The Achaeans enjoyed the freest and most perfect de- 
 mocracy of all antiquity ; yet they employed force to oblige 
 some cities to enter into their league, as we learn from Po- 
 lybius a . 
 
 Harry IV. and Harry VII. of England had really 
 no title to the throne but a parliamentary election ; yet 
 they never would acknowledge it, lest they should there- 
 by weaken their authority. Strange, if the only real foun- 
 dation of all authority be consent and promise? 
 
 It is vain to say, that all governments are or should be 
 at first founded on popular consent, as much as the ne- 
 cessity of human affairs will admit. This favours entirely 
 my pretension. I maintain, that human affairs will never 
 admit of this consent, seldom of the appearance of it; but 
 that conquest or usurpation, that is, in plain terms, force, 
 by dissolving the ancient governments, is the origin of al- 
 most all the new ones which were ever established in the 
 world. And that in the few cases where consent may 
 seem to have taken place, it was commonly so irregular, 
 
 * Lib. ii. cap. 31.
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 453 
 
 so confined, or so much intermixed either with fraud or 
 violence, that it cannot have any great authority. 
 
 My intention here is not to exclude the consent of the 
 people from being one just foundation of government where 
 it has place. It is surely the best and most sacred of any. 
 I only contend, that it has very seldom had place in any 
 degree, and never almost in its full extent; and that there- 
 fore some other foundation of government must also be 
 admitted. 
 
 Were all men possessed of so inflexible a regard to jus- 
 tice, that of themselves they would totally abstain from 
 the properties of others ; they had for ever remained in a 
 state of absolute liberty, without subjection to any magis- 
 trate or political society : But this is a state of perfection 
 of which human nature is justly deemed incapable. Again, 
 were all men possessed of so perfect an understanding as 
 always to know their own interests, no form of government 
 had ever been submitted to but what was established on 
 consent, and was fully canvassed by every member of the 
 society : But this state of perfection is likewise much supe- 
 rior to human nature. Reason, history, and experience 
 shew us, that all political societies have had an origin much 
 less accurate and regular ; and were one to choose a pe- 
 riod of time when the people's consent was the least re- 
 garded in public transactions, it would be precisely on the 
 establishment of a new government. In a settled consti- 
 tution their inclinations arc often consulted ; but during 
 the fury of revolutions, conquests, and public convulsions, 
 military force or political craft usually decides the contro- 
 versy. 
 
 When a new government is established, by whatever 
 means, the people are commonly dissatisfied with it, and 
 pay obedience more from fear and necessity, than from
 
 4j1< essay xii. 
 
 any idea of allegiance or of moral obligation. The prince 
 is watchful and jealous, and must carefully guard against 
 every beginning or appearance of insurrection. Time, by 
 degrees, removes all these difficulties, and accustoms the 
 nation to regard, as their lawful or native princes, that fa- 
 mily which at first they considered as usurpers or foreign 
 conquerors. In order to found this opinion, they have 
 no recourse to any notion of voluntary consent or pro- 
 mise, which, they know, never was, in this case, either ex- 
 pected or demanded. The original establishment was 
 formed by violence, and submitted to from necessity. The 
 subsequent administration is also supported by power, and 
 acquiesced in by the people, not as a matter of choice, but 
 of obligation. They imagine not that their consent gives 
 their prince a title : But they willingly consent, because 
 they think, that, from long possession, he has acquired a 
 title, independent of their choice or inclination. 
 
 Should it be said, that, by living under the dominion of 
 a prince which one might leave, every individual has gi- 
 ven a tacit consent to his authority, and promised him obe- 
 dience; it may be answered, that such an implied consent 
 can only have place where a man imagines that the mat- 
 ter depends on his choice. But where he thinks (as all 
 mankind do who arc born under established governments) 
 that by his birth he owes allegiance to a certain prince or 
 certain form of government ; it would be absurd to infer a 
 consent or choice, which he expressly, in this case, re- 
 nounces and disclaims. 
 
 Can we seriously say, that a poor peasant or artisan has 
 a ^vvc choice to leave his country, when he knows no fo- 
 reign language or manners, and lives, from day to day, 
 by the small wages which he acquires ? We may as well 
 assert that a man, by remaining in a vessel, freely consents
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 155 
 
 to the dominion of the master ; though he was carried on 
 board while asleep, and must leap into the ocean, and pe- 
 rish, the moment he leaves her. 
 
 What if the prince forbid his subjects to quit his do- 
 minions ; as in Tiberius' s time, it was regarded as a crime 
 in a Roman knight that he had attempted to fly to the 
 Parthians, in order to escape the tyranny of that empe- 
 ror a ? Or as the ancient Muscovites prohibited all travel- 
 ling under pain of death ? And did a prince observe, that 
 many of his subjects were seized with the frenzy of migra- 
 ting to foreign countries, he would, doubtless, with great 
 reason and justice, restrain them, in order to prevent the 
 depopulation of his own kingdom. Would he forfeit the 
 allegiance of all his subjects by so wise and reasonable a 
 law ? Yet the freedom of their choice is surely, in that case, 
 ravished from them. 
 
 A company of men, who should leave their native country, 
 in order to people some uninhabited region, might dream 
 of recovering their native freedom, but they would soon 
 find, that their prince still laid claim to them, and called 
 them his subjects, even in their new settlement. And in this 
 he would but act conformably to the common ideas of 
 mankind. 
 
 The truest tacit consent of this kind that is ever obser- 
 ved, is when a foreigner settles in any country, and is be- 
 forehand acquainted with the prince, and government, 
 and laws to which he must submit : Yet is his allegiance, 
 though more voluntary, much less expected or depended 
 on, than that of a natural born subject. On the contrary, 
 his native prince still asserts a claim to him. And if he 
 punish not the renegade, when he seizes him in war with 
 
 Cl Tacit. Ann. lib. vi. cap. 14.
 
 456 ESSAY XII. 
 
 his new prince's commission ; this clemency is not found- 
 ed on the municipal law, which in all countries condemns 
 the prisoner ; but on the consent of princes, who have 
 agreed to this indulgence, in order to prevent reprisals. 
 
 Did one generation of men go off the stage at once, and 
 another succeed, as is the case with silk worms and butter- 
 flies, the new race, if they had sense enough to choose their 
 government, which surely is never the case with men, might 
 voluntarily, and by general consent, establish their own 
 form of civil polity, without any regard to the laws or pre- 
 cedents which prevailed among their ancestors. But as 
 human society is in perpetual flux, one man every hour 
 going out of the world, another coming into it, it is neces- 
 sary, in order to preserve stability in government, that the 
 new brood should conform themselves to the established 
 constitution, and nearly follow the path which their fathers, 
 treading in the footsteps of theirs, had marked out to them. 
 Some innovations must necessarily have place in every hu- 
 man institution ; and it is happy where the enlightened 
 genius of the age give these a direction to the side of rea- 
 son, liberty, and justice : But violent innovations no indi- 
 vidual is entitled to make: They are even dangerous to be 
 attempted by the legislature : More ill than good is ever 
 to be expected from them : And if history affords exam- 
 ples to the contrary, they are not to be drawn into prece- 
 dent, and are only to be regarded as proofs, that the science 
 of politics affords few rules, which will not admit of some 
 exception, and which may not sometimes be controlled by 
 fortune and accident. The violent innovations in the reign 
 of Henry VI 11. proceeded from an imperious monarch, 
 .seconded by the appearance of legislative authority : Those 
 in the reign ol Charles I. were derived irom faction and 
 fanaticism ; and both of them have proved happy in the
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 457 
 
 issue. But even the former were long the source of many 
 disorders, and still more dangers; and if the measures of 
 allegiance were to be taken from the latter, a total anarchy 
 must have place in human society, and a final period at 
 once be put to every government. 
 
 Suppose, that an usurper, after having banished his law- 
 ful prince and royal family, should establish his dominion 
 for ten or a dozen years in any country, and should pre- 
 serve so exact a discipline in his troops, and so regular a 
 disposition in his garrisons, that no insurrection had ever 
 been raised, or even murmur heard against his administra- 
 tion : Can it be asserted, that the people, who in their 
 liea its abhor his treason, have tacitly consented to his au- 
 thority, and promised him allegiance, merely because, from 
 necessity, they live under his dominion i Suppose again 
 their native prince restored, by means of an army, which 
 he levies in foreign countries : They receive him with joy 
 and exultation, and show plainly with what reluctance they 
 had submitted to any other yoke. I may now ask, upon 
 what foundation the prince's title stands ? Not on popular 
 consent surely : For though the people willingly acquiesce 
 in his authority, they never imagine that their consent made 
 him sovereign. They consent, because they apprehend 
 him to be already, by birth, their lawful sovereign. And 
 as to that tacit consent, which may now be inferred from 
 their living under his dominion, this is no more than what 
 they formerly gave to the tyrant and usurper. 
 
 When wc assert, that all lawful government arises from 
 the consent of the people, we certainly do them a great 
 deal more honour than they deserve, or even expect and 
 desire from us. After the Roman dominions became too 
 unwieldy fur the republic to govern them, the people over 
 the whole known world were extremely grateful to Angus-
 
 158 ESSAY XII. 
 
 tus for that authority which by violence- he had establish- 
 ed over them ; and they shewed an equal disposition to 
 submit to the successor whom he left them by his last will 
 and testament. It was afterwards their misfortune, that 
 there ne\er was, in one family, any long regular succession ; 
 but that their line of princes was continually broken, cither 
 by private assassinations or public rebellions. The praeto- 
 rian bands, on the failure of every family, set up one em- 
 peror ; the legions in the East a second ; those in Germa- 
 ny, perhaps, a third : And the sword alone could decide 
 the controversy. The condition of the people, in that 
 mighty monarchy, was to be lamented, not because the 
 choice of the emperor was never left to them, for that was 
 impracticable-, but because they never fell under any suc- 
 cession of masters who might regularly follow each other. 
 As to the violence, and wars, and bloodshed, occasioned 
 by every new settlement : these were not blameable, be- 
 cause they were inevitable. 
 
 The house of Lancaster ruled in this island about sixty 
 years ; yet the partisans of the white rose seemed daily to 
 multiply in England. The present establishment has ta- 
 ken place during a still longer period. Have all views of 
 right in another family been utterly extinguished, even 
 though scarce any man now alive had arrived at the years of 
 discretion when it was expelled, or could have consented 
 to its dominion, or have promised it allegiance ? A suffi- 
 cient indication, surely, of the general sentiment of man- 
 kind on this head. For we blame not the partisans of the 
 abdicated family, merely on account of the long time du- 
 ring which they have preserved their imaginary loyalty. 
 AVe blame them for adhering to a family, which we affirm 
 has been justly expelled, and which, from the moment the
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 459 
 
 new settlement took place, had forfeited all title to autho- 
 rity. 
 
 But would we have a more regular, at least a more phi- 
 losophical refutation of this principle of an original con- 
 tract, or popular consent, perhaps the following observa- 
 tions may suffice: 
 
 All moral duties may be divided into two kinds. The 
 first are those to which men are impelled by a natural in- 
 stinct or immediate propensity, which operates on them, 
 independent of all ideas of obligation, and of all views ei- 
 ther to public or private utility. Of this nature are love 
 of children, gratitude to benefactors, pity to the unfortu- 
 nate. When we reflect on the advantage which results to 
 society from such humane instincts, we pay them the just 
 tribute of moral approbation and esteem : But the person, 
 actuated by them, feels their power and influence, antece- 
 dent to any such reflection. 
 
 The second kind of moral duties are such as are not sup- 
 ported by any original instinct of nature, but are perform- 
 ed entirely from a sense of obligation, when we consider 
 the necessities of human society, and the impossibility of 
 supporting it, if these duties were neglected. It is thus 
 justice, or a regard to the property of others, fidelity, or 
 the observance of promises, become obligatory, and acquire 
 an authority over mankind. For as it is evident that every 
 man loves himself better than any other person, he is na- 
 turally impelled to extend his acquisitions as much as pos- 
 sible ; and nothing can restrain him in this propensity but 
 reflection and experience, by which he learns the perni- 
 cious effects of that licence, and the total dissolution of so- 
 ciety which must ensue from it. His original inclination, 
 therefore, or instinct, is here checked and restrained by a 
 subsequent judgment or observation.
 
 460 essay xir. 
 
 The case is precisely the same with the political or civil 
 duty of allegiance, as with the natural duties of justice and 
 fidelity. Our primary instincts lead us, either to indulge 
 ourselves in unlimited freedom, or to seek dominion over 
 others ; and it is reflection only which engages us to sacri- 
 fice such strong passions to the interests of peace and pub- 
 lic order. A small degree of experience and observation 
 suffices to teach us, that society cannot possibly be main- 
 tained without the authority of magistrates, and that this 
 authority must soon fall into contempt, where exact obe- 
 dience is not paid to it. The observation of these general 
 and obvious interests is the source of all allegiance, and of 
 that moral obligation which we attribute to it. 
 
 What necessity, therefore, is there to found the duty of 
 allegiance, or obedience to magistrates, on that of fidelity, 
 or a regard to promises, and to suppose that it is the con- 
 sent of each individual which subjects him to government; 
 when it appears that both allegiance and fidelity stand 
 precisely on the same foundation, and are both submitted 
 to by mankind, on account of the apparent interests and 
 necessities of human society ? We are bound to obey our 
 sovereign, it is said, because we have given a tacit promise 
 to that purpose. But why are we bound to observe our 
 promise ? It must here be asserted, that the commerce and 
 intercourse of mankind, which are of such mighty advan- 
 tage, can have no security where men pay no regard to 
 their engagements. In like manner, may it be said, that 
 men could not live at all in society, at least in a civilized 
 society, without laws, and magistrates and judges, to pre- 
 vent the encroachments of the strong upon the weak, of 
 the violent upon the just and equitable. The obligation 
 to allegiance being of like force and authority with the 
 obligation to fidelity, we gain nothing by resolving the
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 461 
 
 one into the other. The general interests or necessities 
 of society are suflicient to establish both. 
 
 If the reason be asked of that obedience which we are 
 bound to pay to government, I readily answer, because so- 
 ciety could not otherwise subsist; and this answer is clear 
 and intelligible to all mankind. Your answer is, because 
 we should keep our word. But besides that nobody, till 
 trained in a philosophical system, can either comprehend 
 or relish this answer, besides this, I say, you find your- 
 self embarrassed, when it is asked, why we are bound to 
 keep our word ? Nor can you give any answer, but what 
 would immediately, without any circuit, have accounted 
 for our obligation to allegiance. 
 
 But to "whom is allegiance due, and who is our lawful so- 
 vereig)i ? This question is often the most difficult of any, 
 and liable to infinite discussions. When people are so 
 happy that they can answer, Our present sovereign, wh& 
 inherits, in a direct line, from ancestors that have governed 
 usjbr many ages ; This answer admits of no reply, even 
 though historians, in tracing up to the remotest antiquity, 
 the origin of that royal family, may find, as commonly 
 happens, that its first authority was derived from usurpa- 
 tion and violence. It is confessed, that private justice, or 
 the abstinence from the properties of others, is a most car- 
 dinal virtue. Yet reason tells us, that there is no pro- 
 perty in durable objects, such as land or houses, when 
 carefully examined in passing from hand to hand, but 
 must, in some period, have been founded on fraud and 
 injustice. The necessities of human society, neither in 
 private nor public life, will allow of such an accurate in- 
 quiry ; and there is no virtue or moral duty, but what 
 may, with facility, be refined away, if we indulge a false 
 philosophy in sifting and scrutinizing it, by every captious
 
 462 ESSAY XII. 
 
 rule of logic, in every light or position in which it may 
 be placed. 
 
 The questions with regard to private property have 
 filled infinite volumes of law and philosophy, if in both 
 we add the commentators to the original text; and in the 
 end, we may safely pronounce, that many of the rules 
 there established are uncertain, ambiguous, and arbitrary. 
 The like opinion may be formed with regard to the suc- 
 cession and rights of princes, and forms of government. 
 Several cases no doubt occur, especially in the infancy of 
 any constitution, which admit of no determination from 
 the laws of justice and equity ; and our historian Rapin 
 pretends, that the controversy between Edward the Third 
 and Philip De Valois was of this nature, and could be 
 decided only by an appeal to heaven, that is, by war and 
 violence. 
 
 Who shall tell me, whether Germanicus or Drusus 
 ought to have succeeded to Tiberius, had he died while 
 they were both alive, without naming any of them for his 
 successor ? Ought the right of adoption to be received as 
 equivalent to that of blood, in a nation where it had the 
 same effect in private families, and had already, in two in- 
 stances, taken place in the public ? Ought Germanicus to 
 be esteemed the elder son, because he was born before 
 Drusus ; or the younger, because he was adopted after the 
 birth of his brother ? Ought the right of the elder to be 
 regarded in a nation, where he had no advantage in the 
 succession of private families ? Ought the Roman empire 
 at that time to be deemed hereditary, because of two ex- 
 amples ; or ought it, even so early, to be regarded as be- 
 longing to the stronger, or to the present possessor, as 
 being founded on so recent an usurpation ? 
 
 Commodus mounted the throne after a pretty long sue-
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 4G3 
 
 cession of excellent emperors, who had acquired their 
 title, not by birth, or public election, but by the fictitious 
 rite of adoption. That bloody debauchee being murder- 
 ed by a conspiracy, suddenly formed between his wench 
 and her gallant, who happened at that time to be Prcelo- 
 rian Prarfect, these immediately deliberated about choo- 
 sing a master to human kind, to speak in the style of those 
 ages ; and they cast their eyes on Pertinax. Before the 
 tyrant's death was known, the Prcefect went secretly to 
 that senator, who, on the appearance of the soldiers, ima- 
 gined that his execution had been ordered by Commodus. 
 He was immediately saluted emperor by the officer and 
 his attendants, cheerfully proclaimed by the populace, un- 
 willingly submitted to by the guards, formally recognised 
 by the senate, and passively received by the provinces and 
 armies of the empire. 
 
 The discontent of the Prcctorian bands broke out in a 
 sudden sedition, which occasioned the murder of that ex- 
 cellent prince ; and the world being now without a mas- 
 ter, and without government, the guards thought proper 
 to set the empire formally to sale. Julian, the purchaser, 
 was proclaimed by the soldiers, recognised by the senate, 
 and submitted to by the people ; and must also have been 
 submitted to by the provinces, had not the envy of the le- 
 gions begotten opposition and resistance. Pescennius 
 Niger in Syria elected himself emperor, gained the tu- 
 multuary consent of his army, and was attended with the 
 secret good will of the senate and people of Rome. Al- 
 binus in Britain found an equal right to set up his claim ; 
 but Severus, who governed Pannonia, prevailed in the 
 end above both of them. That able politician and war- 
 rior, finding his own birth and dignity too much inferior 
 to the imperial crown, professed, at first, an intention only
 
 464< ESSAY XII. 
 
 of revenging the death of Pertinax. He marched as ge- 
 neral into Italy, defeated Julian, and without being able 
 to fix any precise commencement even of the soldiers' 
 consent, he was from necessity acknowledged emperor by 
 the senate and people, and fully established in his violent 
 authority, by subduing Niger and Albinus a . 
 
 Inter hece Gordiatms Cccsar (says Capitolinus, speaking 
 of another period) sublatus a militibus. Imperator est ap- 
 pellatus, quia non crat alius in prasenti. Jt is to be re- 
 marked, that Gordian was a boy of fourteen years of age. 
 
 Frequent instances of a like nature occur in the history 
 of the emperors ; in that of Alexander's successors ; and of 
 many other countries : Nor can any thing be more unhap- 
 py than a despotic government of this kind •, where the suc- 
 cession is disjointed and irregular, and must be determi- 
 ned on every vacancy by force or election. In a free go- 
 vernment, the matter is often unavoidable, and is also 
 much less dangerous. The interests of liberty may there 
 frequently lead the people, in their own defence, to alter 
 the succession of the crown. And the constitution, being 
 compounded of parts, may still maintain a sufficient sta- 
 bility, by resting on the aristocratical or democratical mem- 
 bers, though the monarchical be altered, from time to time, 
 in order to accommodate it to the former. 
 
 In an absolute government, when there is no legal 
 prince, who has a title to the throne, it may safely be de- 
 termined to belong to the first occupant. Instances of tln'3 
 kind are but too frequent, especially in the eastern monar- 
 chies. When any race of princes expires, the will or des- 
 tination of the last sovereign will be regarded as a title. 
 Thus the edict of Lewis XIV., who called the bastard 
 
 Ilurodian, lib. ii 
 1
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 465 
 
 princes to the succession in case of the failure of all the 
 legitimate princes, would, in such an event, have some au- 
 thority 1 . Thus the will of Charles the Second disposed 
 of the whole Spanish monarchy. The cession of the an- 
 cient proprietor, especially when joined to conquest, is like- 
 wise deemed a good title. The general obligation, which 
 binds us to government, is the interest and necessities of so- 
 ciety; and this obligation is very strong. The determina- 
 tion of it to this or that particular prince, or form of govern- 
 ment, is frequently more uncertain and dubious. Present 
 possession has considerable authority in these cases, and 
 greater than in private property; because of the disorders 
 which attend all revolutions and changes of government. 
 
 We shall only observe, before we conclude, that though 
 an appeal to general opinion may justly, in the speculative 
 sciences of metaphysics, natural philosophy, or astronomy, 
 be deemed unfair and inconclusive, yet in all questions 
 with regard to morals, as well as criticism, there is really 
 no other standard, by which any controversy can ever be 
 decided. And nothing is a clearer proof, that a theory of 
 this kind is erroneous, than to find, that it leads to para- 
 doxes repugnant to the common sentiments of mankind, 
 and to the practice and opinion of all nations and all ages. 
 The doctrine, which founds all lawful government on an 
 original contract, or consent of the people, is plainly of 
 this kind ; nor has the most noted of its partisans, in pro- 
 secution of it, scrupled to affirm, that absolute monarchy is 
 inconsistent with civil society, and so can be no form of civil 
 government at all b ; and that the supreme power in a state 
 cannot take from any man, by taxes and impositioiis, any 
 part of his properly, without his oxm consent or that (f his 
 
 a See Note [TT-1 Sec Loeke on Govevomont, chap. vii. § 90. 
 
 VOL. I. 2 u
 
 ±66 ESSAY XII. 
 
 representatives a . What authority any moral reasoning 
 can have, which leads into opinions so wide of the general 
 practice ot mankind, in every place but this single king- 
 dom, it is easy to determine. 
 
 The only passage I meet with in antiquity, where the 
 obligation of obedience to government is ascribed to a pro- 
 mise, is in Plato's Crito : where Socrates refuses to escape 
 from prison, because he had tacitly promised to obey the 
 laws. Thus he builds a Tory consequence of passive obe- 
 dience on a Whig foundation of the original contract. 
 
 New discoveries are not to be expected in these matters. 
 If scarce any man, till very lately, ever imagined that go- 
 vernment was founded on compact, it is certain that it 
 cannot, in general, have any such foundation. 
 
 The crime of rebellion among the ancients was common- 
 ly expressed by the terms nuTi^uv, novos res moliri. 
 
 * Locke oji Government, chap. xi. § 133, 139, 140.
 
 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 
 
 In the former essay, we endeavoured to refute the specu- 
 lative systems of politics advanced in this nation ; as well 
 the religious system of the one party, as the philosophical 
 of the other. We come now to examine the practical 
 consequences deduced by each party, with regard to the 
 measures of submission due to sovereigns. 
 
 As the obligation to justice is founded entirely on the 
 interests of society, which require mutual abstinence from 
 property, in order to preserve peace among mankind ; it 
 is evident, that, when the execution of justice would be at- 
 tended with very pernicious consequences, that virtue must 
 be suspended, and give place to public utility, in such ex- 
 traordinary and such pressing emergencies. The maxim, 
 Jiat Justitia ct mat Ccelum, let justice be performed, though 
 the universe be destroyed, is apparently false, and by sa- 
 crificing the end to the means, shews a preposterons idea 
 of the subordination of duties. What governor of a town 
 makes any scruple of burning the suburbs, when they fa- 
 cilitate the approaches of the enemy ? Or what general 
 abstains from plundering a neutral country, when the ne- 
 cessities of war require it, and he cannot otherwise subsist 
 his army ? The case is the same with the duty of allegiance ; 
 and common sense teaches us, that, as government binds
 
 468 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 us to oberlience onlv on account of its tendency to public 
 utility, that duty must always, in extraordinary cases, 
 when public ruin would evidently attend obedience,, yield 
 to the primary and original obligation. Salus poj.uli su- 
 jprema Lex, the safety of the people is the supreme law. 
 This maxim is agreeable to the sentiments of mankind in 
 all ages : Nor is any one, when he reads of the insurrec- 
 tions against Nero or Philip the Second, so infatuated with 
 party systems, as not to wish success to the enterprise, and 
 praise the undertakers. Even our high monarchical party, 
 in spite of their sublime theory, are forced, in such cases, 
 to judge, and feel, and approve, in conformity to the rest 
 of mankind. 
 
 Resistance, therefore, being admitted in extraordinary 
 emergencies, the question can only be among good rea- 
 soners, with regard to the degree of necessity, which can 
 justify resistance, and render it lawful or commendable. 
 Amd here I must confess, that I shall always incline to 
 their side, who draw the bond of allegiance very close, and 
 consider an infringement of it as the last refuge in despe- 
 rate cases, when the public is in the highest danger from 
 violence and tyranny. For besides the mischiefs of a civil 
 war, which commonly attends insurrection, it is certain, 
 that, where a disposition to rebellion appears among any 
 people, it is one chief cause of tyranny in the rulers, and 
 forces them into many violent measures which they never 
 would have embraced, had every one been inclined to sub- 
 mission and obedience. Thus the tyrannicide or assassina- 
 tion, approved of by ancient maxims, instead of keeping 
 tyrants and usurpers in awe, made them ten times more 
 fit rce and unrelenting; and is new justly, upon that ac- 
 count, abolished by the iaws of nations, and universally
 
 OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 469 
 
 condemned as a base and treacherous method of bringing 
 to justice these disturbers of society. 
 
 Besides, we must consider, that as obedience is our duty 
 in the common course of tilings, it ought chiefly to be in- 
 culcated ; nor can any thing be more preposterous than 
 an anxious care and solicitude in stating all the cases in 
 which resistance may be allowed. In like manner, though 
 a philosopher reasonably acknowledge, in the course of 
 an argument, that the rules of justice maybe dispensed 
 with in cases of urgent necessity ; what should we think 
 of a preacher or casuist, who should make it his chief study 
 to find out such cases, and enforce them with all the ve- 
 hemence of argument and eloquence ? Would he not be 
 better employed in inculcating the general doctrine, than 
 in displaying the particular exception.;, which we are, per- 
 haps, but too much inclined, of ourselves, to embrace and 
 to extend ? 
 
 There are, however, two reasons, which may be pleaded 
 in defence of that party among us, who have, with so much 
 industry, propagated the maxims of resistance ; maxims 
 which, it must be confessed, are, in general, so pernicious, 
 and so destructive of civil society. The first is, that their 
 antagonists, carrying the doctrine of obedience to such an 
 extravagant height, as not on!y never to mention the ex- 
 ceptions in extraordinary cases {which might, perhaps, be 
 excusable), but even positively to exclude them ; it became 
 necessary to insist on these exceptions, and defend the 
 rights of injured truth and liberty. The second, and, per- 
 haps, better reas-on, is founded on the nature of the Bri- 
 tish constitution and form of government. 
 
 It is almost peculiar to our constitution to establish a 
 first magistrate with such high pre eminence and dignity, 
 that, though limited by the laws, he is, in a manner, so
 
 •i70 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 far as regards his own person, above the laws, and can 
 neither be questioned nor punished for any injury or wrong 
 which may be committed by him. His ministers alone, 
 or those who act by his commission, are obnoxious to jus- 
 tice ; and while the prince is thus allured, by the prospect 
 of personal safety, to give the laws their free course, an 
 equal security is, in effect, obtained by the punishment of 
 lesser offenders, and at the same time a civil war is avoid- 
 ed, which would be the infallible consequence, were an 
 attack, at every turn, made directly upon the sovereign. 
 But though the constitution pays this salutary compliment 
 to the prince, it can never reasonably be understood, by 
 that maxim, to have determined its own destruction, or to 
 have established a tame submission, where he protects his 
 ministers, perseveres in injustice, and usurps the whole 
 power of the commonwealth. This case, indeed, is never 
 expressly put by the laws ; because it is impossible for 
 them, in their ordinary course, to provide a remedy for it, 
 or establish any magistrate, with superior authority, to 
 chastise the exorbitances of the prince. But as a right 
 without a remedy would be an absurdity ; the remedy, in 
 this case, is the extraordinary one of resistance, when af- 
 fairs come to that extremity, that the constitution can be 
 defended by it alone. Resistance, therefore, must, of 
 course, become more frequent in the British government, 
 than in others, which are simpler, and consist of fewer 
 parts and movements. Where the king is an absolute so- 
 vereign, he has little temptation to commit such enormous 
 tyranny as may justly provoke rebellion. But where he 
 is limited, his imprudent ambition, without any great vices, 
 may run him into that perilous situation. This is fre- 
 quently supposed to have been the case with Charles the 
 First ; and if we may now speak truth, after animosities
 
 OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 47l 
 
 are ceased, this was also the case with James the Second. 
 These were harmless, if not, in their private character, 
 good men ; but mistaking the nature of our constitution, 
 and engrossing the whole legislative power, it became ne- 
 cessary to oppose them with some vehemence ; and even 
 to deprive the latter formally of that authority, which he 
 had used with such imprudence and indiscretion,
 
 liSSAY XIV, 
 
 OF THE COALITION OF FARTIES. 
 
 pn 
 
 J. o abolish all distinctions of party may not be practica- 
 ble, perhaps not desirable in a free government. The only 
 dangerous parties are such as entertain opposite views with 
 regard to the essentials of government, the succession of 
 the crown, or the more considerable privileges belonging 
 to the several members of the constitution ; where there is 
 no room for any compromise or accommodation, and where 
 the controversy may appear so momentous as to justify even 
 an opposition by arms to the pretensions of antagonists. 
 Of this nature was the animosity continued for above a 
 century past, between the parties in England ; an animo- 
 sity which broke out sometimes into civil war, which occa- 
 sioned violent revolutions, and which continually endan- 
 gered the peace and tranquillity of the nation. But as there 
 have appeared of late the strongest symptoms of an uni- 
 versal desire to abolish these party distinctions ; this ten- 
 dency to a coalition affords the most agreeable prospect of 
 future happiness, and ought to be carefully cherished and 
 promoted by every lover of his country. 
 
 There is not a more effectual method of promoting so 
 good an end, than to prevent all unreasonable insult and 
 triumph of the one party over the other, to encourage mo- 
 derate opinions, to find the proper medium in all disputes*
 
 OF THE COALITION Of PARTIES. 475 
 
 to persuade each that its antagonist may possibly be some- 
 times in the right, and to keep a balance in the praise or 
 blame which we bestow on either side. The two former 
 essays, concerning the original contract and passive obe- 
 dience, are calculated for this purpose with regard to the 
 philosophical and practical controversies between the par- 
 ties, and tend to show that neither side are in these re- 
 spects so fully supported by reason as they endeavour to 
 flatter themselves. We shall proceed to exercise the same 
 moderation with regard to the historical disputes between 
 the parties, by proving that each of them was justified by 
 plausible topics ; that there was on both sides wise men, 
 who meant well to their country ; and that the past ani- 
 mosity between the factions had no better foundation than 
 narrow prejudice or interested passion. 
 
 The popular party, who afterwards acquired the name 
 of Whigs, might justify, by very specious arguments, that 
 opposition to the crown, from which our present free con- 
 stitution is derived. Though obliged to acknowledge, that 
 precedents in favour of prerogative had uniformly taken 
 place during many reigns before Charles the First, they 
 thought, that there was no reason for submitting anv longer 
 to so dangerous an authority. Such might have been their 
 reasoning : As the rights of mankind are for ever to be 
 deemed sacred, no prescription of tyranny or arbitrary 
 power can have authority sufficient to abolish them. Li- 
 berty is a blessing so inestimable, that, wherever there 
 appears any probability of recovering it, a nation may will- 
 ingly run many hazards, and ought not even to repine at 
 the greatest effusion of blood or dissipation of treasure. 
 All human institutions, and none more than government* 
 are in continual fluctuation. Kings are sure to embrace 
 every opportunity of extending their prerogatives: And if
 
 474 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 favourable incidents be not also laid hold of for extending 
 
 o 
 
 and securing the privileges of the people, an universal des- 
 potism must for ever prevail amongst mankind. The ex- 
 ample of all the neighbouring nations proves, that it is no 
 longer safe to entrust with the crown the same high pre- 
 rogatives which had formerly been exercised during rude 
 and simple ages. And though the example of many late 
 reigns may be pleaded in favour of a power in the prince 
 somewhat arbitrary, more remote reigns afford instances 
 of stricter limitations imposed on the crown ; and those 
 pretensions of the parliament now branded with the title 
 of innovations, are only a recovery of the just rights of the 
 people. 
 
 These view*, far from being odious, are surely large, and 
 generous, and noble: to their prevalence and success the 
 kingdom owes its liberty : perhaps its learning, its indus- 
 try, commerce, and naval power : By them chiefly the 
 English name is distinguished among the society of nations, 
 and aspires to a rivalship with that of the freest and most 
 illustrious commonwealths of antiquity. But as all these 
 mighty consequences could not reasonably be foreseen at 
 the time when the contest began, the royalists of that age 
 wanted not specious arguments on their side, by which they 
 could justify their defence of the then established preroga- 
 tives of the prince. We shall state the question, as it 
 might have appeared to them at the assembling of that par- 
 liament, which, by its violent encroachments on the crown, 
 began the civil wars. 
 
 The only rule of government, they might have said, 
 known and acknowledged among men, is use and prac- 
 tice : Reason is so uncertain a guide, that it will always 
 be exposed to doubt and controversy : Could it ever ren- 
 der itself prevalent over the people, men had always re-
 
 OF THE COALITION OF PARTIES. 4<75 
 
 tained it as their sole rule of conduct : They had still con- 
 tinued in the primitive unconnected state of nature, with- 
 out submitting to political government, whose sole basis 
 is, not pure reason, but authority and precedent. Dissolve 
 these ties, you break all the bonds of civil society, and leave 
 every man at liberty to consult his private interest, by those 
 expedients, which his appetite, disguised under the ap- 
 pearance of reason, shall dictate to him. The spirit of 
 innovation is in itself pernicious, however favourable its 
 particular object may sometimes appear j a truth so ob- 
 vious, that the popular party themselves are sensible of it, 
 and therefore cover their encroachments on the crown by 
 the plausible pretence of their recovering the ancient liber- 
 ties of the people. 
 
 But the present prerogatives of the crown, allowing all 
 the suppositions of that party, have been incontestably es- 
 tablished ever since the accession of tlie House of Tudor j 
 a period which, as it now comprehends a hundred and 
 sixty years, may be allowed sufficient to give stability to 
 any constitution. Would it not have appeared ridiculous, 
 in the reign of the Emperor Adrian, to have talked of the 
 republican constitution as the rule of government j or to 
 have supposed, that the former rights of the senate, and 
 consuls and tribunes, were still subsisting. 
 
 But the present claims of the English monarch s are much 
 more favourable than those of the Roman emperors du- 
 ring that age. The authority of Augustus was a plain 
 usurpation, grounded only on military violence, and forms 
 such an epoch in the Roman history as is obvious to eve- 
 ry reader. But if Henry VII. really, as some pretend, 
 enlarged the power of the crown, it was only by insensible 
 acquisitions, which escaped the apprehension of the people, 
 and have scarcely been remarked even by historians and
 
 475 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 politicians. The new government, if it deserves the epi- 
 thet, is an imperceptible transition from the former •, is en- 
 tirely engrafted on it : derives its title fully from that root 5 
 and is to be considered o y as one of those gradual revo- 
 lutions, to which human affairs, in every nation, will be 
 for ever subject. 
 
 The house of Tudor, and after them that of Stuart, ex- 
 ercised no prerogatives but what had been claimed and ex- 
 ercised by the Plantagenets. Not a single branch of their 
 authority can be said to be an innovation. The oiilv dif- 
 ference U, that perhaps former kings exerted these powers 
 only by intervals, and were not able, by reason of the op- 
 position of their barons, to render them so steady a rule 
 of administration. But the sole inference from this fact 
 is, that those ancient times were more turbulent and sedi- 
 tious ; and that royal authority, the constitution, and the 
 laws, have happily of late gained the ascendant. 
 
 Under what pretence can the popular party now speak 
 of recovering the ancient constitution? The former con- 
 trol over the kings was not placed in the commons, but in 
 the barons : The people had no authority, and even little 
 or no liberty ; till the crown, by suppressing these factious 
 tyrants, enforced the execution of the laws, and obliged all 
 the subjects equally to respect each other's rights, privi- 
 leges, and properties. If we must return to the ancient 
 barbarous and feudal constitution, let those gentlemen, 
 who now behave themselves with so much insolence ro their 
 sovereign, set the first example. Let them make court to 
 be admitted as retainers to a neighbouring baron ; and by 
 submitting to slavery under him, acquire some protection 
 to themselves ; together with the power of exercising ra- 
 pine and oppression over their inferior slaves and villains.
 
 GF THE COALITION OF PARTIES. 47T 
 
 This was the condition of the commons among their re- 
 mote ancestors. 
 
 But how far back must we go, in having recourse to an- 
 cient constitutions and governments ? There was a consti- 
 tution still more ancient than that to which these innova- 
 tors affect so much to appeal. During that period there 
 was no Magna Charta ; The barons themselves possessed 
 few regular, stated privileges ; and the house of commons 
 probably had not an existence. 
 
 It is ridiculous to hear the Commons, while they are as- 
 suming, by usurpation, the whole power of government, 
 talk of reviving the ancient institutions. Is it not known, 
 that, though representatives received wages from their con- 
 stituents; to be a member of the lower house was always 
 considered as a burden, and an exemption from it as a pri- 
 vilege ! Will they persuade us, that power, which, of all 
 human acquisitions, is the most coveted, and in compari- 
 son of which, even reputation, and pleasure, and riches, 
 are slighted, could ever be regarded as a burden by any 
 man ? 
 
 The property acquired of late by the commons, it is 
 said, entitles them to more power than their ancestors en- 
 joyed. But to what is this increase of their property ow- 
 ing, but to an increase of their liberty and their security ? 
 Let them therefore acknowledge, that their ancestors, while 
 the crown was restrained by the seditious barons, really 
 enjoyed less liberty than they themselves have attained, 
 after the sovereign acquired the ascendant : And let them 
 enjoy that liberty with moderation ; and not forfeit it by 
 new exorbitant claims, and by rendering it a pretence for 
 endless innovations. 
 
 Tiie true rule of government is the present established 
 practice of the age. That has most authority, because it
 
 47 S ESSAY XIV. 
 
 is recent : It is also best known, for the same reason. Who 
 has assured those tribunes, that the Plantagenets did not 
 exercise as high acts of authority as the Tudors ? Histo- 
 rians, they say, do not mention them. But historians are 
 also silent with regard to the chief exertions of preroga- 
 tive by the Tudors. Where any power or prerogative is 
 fully and undoubtedly established, the exercise of it passes 
 for a thing of course, and readily escapes the notice of his- 
 tory and annals. Had we no other monuments of Eliza- 
 beth's reign, than what are preserved even by Cambden, 
 the most copious, judicious, and exact of our historians, 
 we should be entirely ignorant of the most important max- 
 ims of her government. 
 
 Was not the present monarchical government, in its full 
 extent, authorised by lawyers, recommended by divines, 
 acknowledged by politicians, acquiesced in, nay passion- 
 ately cherished, by the people in general ; and all this du- 
 ring a period of at least a hundred and sixty years, and, 
 till of late, without the smallest murmur or controversy ? 
 This general consent, surely, during so long a time, must 
 be sufficient to render a constitution legal and valid. If 
 the origin of all power be derived, as is pretended, from 
 the people, here is their consent in the fullest and most am- 
 ple terms that can be desired or imagined. 
 
 But the people must not pretend, because they can, by 
 their consent, lay the foundations of government, that there- 
 fore they are to be permitted, at their pleasure, to over- 
 throw and subvert them. There is no end of these sedi- 
 tious and arrogant claims. The power of the crown is now 
 openly struck at : The nobility are also in visible peril : 
 The gentry will soon follow : The popular leaders, who will 
 then assume the name of gentry, will next be exposed to 
 danger : And tin people themselves, having become iuca-
 
 OF THE COALITION OF PARTIES. 47,9 
 
 pable of civil government, and lying under the restraint of 
 no authority, must, for the sake of peace, admit, instead of 
 their legal and mild monarchs, a succession of military and 
 despotic tyrants. 
 
 These consequences are the more to be dreaded, as the 
 present fury of the people, though glossed over by preten- 
 sions to civil liberty, is in reality incited by the fanaticism 
 of religion ; a principle the most blind, headstrong, and 
 ungovernable, by which human nature can possibly be ac- 
 tuated. Popular rage is dreadful, from whatever motive 
 derived : But must be attended with the most pernicious 
 consequences, when it arises from a principle, which dis- 
 claims all control by human law, reason, or authority. 
 
 These are the arguments, which each party may make 
 use of to justify the conduct of their predecessors during 
 that great crisis. The event, if that can be admitted as a 
 reason, has shown, that the arguments of the popular par- 
 ty were better founded ; but perhaps, according to the es- 
 tablished maxims of lawyers and politicians, the views of 
 the royalists ought, beforehand, to have appeared more 
 solid, more safe, and more legal. But this is certain, that 
 the greater moderation we now employ in representing past 
 events, the nearer shall we be to produce a full coalition 
 of the parties, and an entire acquiescence in our present 
 establishment. Moderation is of advantage to every esta- 
 blishment : Nothing but zeal can overturn a settled power ; 
 and an over active zeal in friends is apt to beget a like spi- 
 rit in antagonists. The transition from a moderate oppo- 
 sition against an establishment, to an entire acquiescence 
 in it, is easy and insensible. 
 
 There are many invincible arguments, which should in- 
 duce the malcontent party to acquiesce entirely in the pre- 
 sent settlement of the constitution. They now find, that
 
 4S0 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 the spirit of civil liberty, though at first connected with re^ 
 ligious fanaticism, could purge itself from that pollution, 
 and appear under a more genuine and cn^acinc asoect ; 
 a friend to toleration, and encourager of all the enlarged 
 and generous sentiments that do honour to human nature. 
 They may observe, that the popular claims could stop at 
 a proper period : and after retrenching the high claims of 
 prerogative, could still maintain a due respect to monarchy, 
 the nobility, and to all ancient institutions. Above all, 
 they must be sensible, that the very principle, which made 
 the strength of their party, and from which it derived its 
 chief authority, has now deserted them, and gone over to 
 their antagonists. The plan of liberty is settled ; its hap- 
 py effects are proved by experience; a long tract of time 
 has given it stability •, and whoever would attempt to over- 
 turn it, and to recall the past government or abdicated fa- 
 mily, would, besides other more criminal imputations, be 
 exposed, in their turn, to the reproach of faction and in- 
 novation. While they peruse the history of past events, 
 they ought to reflect, both that those rights of the crown 
 are long since annihilated, and that the tyranny, and vio- 
 lence, and oppression, to which they often gave rise, are 
 ills, from which the established liberty of the constitution 
 has now at last happily protected the people. These re- 
 flections will prove a better security to our freedom and 
 privileges, than to deny, contrary to the clearest evidence 
 of facts, that such regal powers ever had an existence. 
 There is not a more effectual method of betraying a cause, 
 than to lav the stress of the argument on a wrong place, 
 and by disputing an untenable post, enure the adversaries 
 Ui success and victory.
 
 ESSAY XV. 
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 
 
 J suppose, that if a member of Parliament in the reign of 
 King William or Queen Anne, while the establishment of 
 the Protestant Successio?i was yet uncertain, were delibe- 
 rating concerning the party he would choose in that impor- 
 tant question, and weighing, with impartiality, the advan- 
 tages and disadvantages on each side, I believe the follow- 
 ing particulars would have entered into his consideration. 
 
 He would easily perceive the great advantage resulting 
 from the restoration of the Stuart family ; by which we 
 should preserve the succession clear and undisputed, free 
 from a pretender, with such a specious title as that of blood, 
 which, with the multitude, is always the claim the strong- 
 est and most easily comprehended. It is in vain to say, as 
 many have done, that the question with regard to gover- 
 nors, independent of government, is frivolous, and little 
 worth disputing, much less fighting about. The genera- 
 lity of mankind never will enter into these sentiments ; 
 and it is much happier, I believe, for society, that they do 
 not, but rather continue in their natural prepossessions. 
 How could stability be preserved in any monarchical go- 
 vernment (which, though perhaps not the best, is, and al- 
 ways has been, the most common of any,) unless men had 
 
 toe. i. 2 i
 
 488 ESSAY XV. 
 
 so passionate a regard for the true heir of their royal fa- 
 mily ; and even though he be weak in understanding, or 
 infirm in years, gave him so sensible a preference above 
 persons the most accomplished in shining talents, or cele- 
 brated for great achievements ? Would not every popular 
 leader put in his claim at every vacancy, or even without 
 any vacancy ; and the kingdom become the theatre of per- 
 petual wars and convulsions ? The condition of the Ro- 
 man empire, surely, was not in this respect much to be 
 envied ; nor is that of the Eastern nations, who pay little- 
 regard to the titles of their sovereign, but sacrifice them, 
 every day, to the caprice or momentary humour of the po- 
 pulace or soldiery. It is but a foolish wisdom, which is so 
 carefully displayed in undervaluing princes, and placing 
 them on a level with the meanest of mankind. To be 
 sure, an anatomist finds no more in the greatest monarch 
 than in the lowest peasant or day labourer ; and a moral- 
 ist may, perhaps, frequently find less. But what do all 
 these reflections tend to ? We, all of us, still retain these 
 prejudices in favour of birth and family ; and neither in 
 our serious occupations, nor most careless amusements, 
 can we ever get entirely rid of them. A tragedy that 
 should represent the adventures of sailors, or porters, or 
 even of private gentlemen, would presently disgust us ; but 
 one that introduces kings and princes, acquires in our eyes 
 an air of importance and dignity. Or should a man 
 be able, by his superior wisdom, to get entirely above such 
 prepossessions, he would soon, by means of the same wis- 
 dom, again bring himself down to them for the sake of 
 society, whose welfare he would perceive to be intimately 
 connected with them. Far from endeavouring to unde- 
 ceive the people in this particular, he would cherish such 
 sentiments of reverence to their princes, as requisite to
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 483 
 
 preserve a clue subordination in society. And though the 
 lives of twenty thousand men be often sacrificed to main- 
 tain a king in possession of his throne, or preserve the 
 right of succession undisturbed, he entertains no indigna- 
 tion at the loss, on pretence that every individual of these 
 was, perhaps, in himself, as valuable as the prince he ser- 
 ved. He considers the consequences of violating the here- 
 ditary right of kings : Consequences which may be felt 
 for many centuries ; while the loss of several thousand men 
 brings so little prejudice to a large kingdom, that it may 
 not be perceived a few years after. 
 
 The advantages of the Hanover succession are of an op- 
 posite nature, and arise from this very circumstance, that 
 it violates hereditary right, and places on the throne a 
 prince to whom birth gave no title to that dignity. It is 
 evident, from the history of this island, that the privileges 
 of the people have, during near two centuries, been conti- 
 nually upon the increase, by the division of the church- 
 lands, by the alienations of the barons' estates, by the pro- 
 gress of trade, and above all by the happiness of our situa- 
 tion, which, for a long time, gave us sufficient security, 
 without any standing army or military establishment. On 
 the contrary, public liberty has, almost in every other na- 
 tion of Europe, been, during the same period, extremely 
 on the decline ; while the people were disgusted at the 
 hardships of the old feudal militia, and rather chose to en- 
 trust their prince with mercenary armies, which he easily 
 turned against themselves. It was nothing extraordinary, 
 therefore, that some of our British sovereigns mistook the 
 nature of the constitution, at least the genius of the people; 
 and as they embraced all the favourable precedents left 
 them by their ancestors, they overlooked all those which 
 were contrary, and which supposed a limitation in our go-
 
 4 St ESSAY XV. 
 
 vernment. They were encouraged in this mistake, by the 
 example of all the neighbouring princes, who bearing the 
 same title or appellation, and being adorned with the 
 same ensigns of authority, naturally led them to claim the 
 game powers and prerogatives. It appears from the 
 speeches and proclamations of James I. and the whole 
 train of that prince's actions, as well as his son's, that he 
 regarded the English government as a simple monarchy, 
 and never imagined that any considerable part of his sub- 
 jects entertained a contrary idea. This opinion made those 
 monarchs discover their pretensions, without preparing any 
 force to support them ; and even without reserve or dis- 
 guise, which are always employed by those who enter up- 
 on any new project, or endeavour to innovate in any go- 
 vernment. The flattery of courtiers farther confirmed 
 their prejudices; and, above all. that of the clergy, who 
 from several passages of Scripture, and these wrested too, 
 had erected a regular anil avowed system of arbitrary power. 
 The only method of destroying, at once, all these high 
 claims and pretensions, was to depart from the true here- 
 ditary line, and choose a prince, who, being plainly a crea- 
 tiii of the public, and receiving the crown on conditions, 
 expressed and avowed, found Ids authority established on 
 the same bottom with the privileges of the people. By 
 electing him in the royal line, we cut off ail hopes of am- 
 biiioti:-. subjects, who might, in future emergencies, disturb 
 thv- government by their cabals and pretensions : By ren- 
 dering the crown hereditary in his family, we avoided all 
 the inconveniences of elective monarchy ; and by exclu- 
 ding the lineal heir, we secured all our constitutional limi- 
 tations, and rendered our government uniform and of a 
 piece. The people cherish monarchy, because protected 
 by it : The monarch favours liberty, because created by
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION'. 48 o 
 
 it: And thus every advantage is obtained by. the new es- 
 tablishment, as far as human skill and wisdom can extend 
 itself. 
 
 These are the separate advantages of fixing the succes- 
 sion, either in the house of Stuart, or in that of Hanover. 
 There are also disadvantages in each establishment, which 
 an impartial patriot would ponder and examine, in order 
 to form a just judgment upon the whole. 
 
 The disadvantages of the protcstant succession consist 
 in the foreign dominions which are possessed by the 
 princes of the Hanover line, and which, it might be sup- 
 posed, would engage us in the intrigues and wars of the 
 continent, and lose us, in some measure, the inestimable 
 advantage we possess, of being surrounded and guarded 
 by the sea, which we command. The disadvantages of 
 recalling the abdicated family consist chiefly in their reli- 
 gion, which is more prejudicial to society than that esta- 
 blished among us, is contrary to it, and affords no tolera- 
 tion, or peace, or security, to any other communion. 
 
 It appears to me, that these advantages and disadvan- 
 tages are allowed on both sides : at least, by every one 
 who is at all susceptible of argument or reasoning. No 
 subject, however loyal, pretends to deny, that the disputed 
 title and foreign dominions of the present royal family 
 are a loss. Nor is there any partisan of the Stuarts but 
 will confess, that the claim of hereditary, indefeasible 
 right, and the Roman Catholic religion, are also disad- 
 vantage* in that family. It belongs, therefore, to a philo- 
 sopher alone, who is of neither party, to put all the cir- 
 cumstances in the scale, and assigu to each of them its 
 proper poise and influence. Such a one will readily at 
 first acknowledge, that all political questions are infinitely 
 complicated, and that there scarcely ever occurs in any
 
 486 ESSAY XV. 
 
 deliberation, a choice which is either purely good, or 
 purely ill. Consequences, mixed and varied, may be fore- 
 seen to flow from every measure: And many consequen- 
 ces, unforeseen, do always, in fact, result from every one. 
 Hesitation and reserve, and suspense, are therefore the 
 only sentiments he brings to this essay or trial. Or, if he 
 indulges any passion, it is that of derision against the ig- 
 norant multitude, who are always clamorous and dogma- 
 tical, even in the nicest questions, of which, from want of 
 temper, perhaps still more than of understanding, they are 
 altogether unfit judges. 
 
 But to say something more determinate on this head, 
 the following reflections will, I hope, show the temper, if 
 not the understanding, of a philosopher. 
 
 Were we to judge merely by first appearances, and by 
 past experience, we must allow that the advantages of a 
 parliamentary title in the house of Hanover are greater 
 than those of an undisputed hereditary title in the house 
 of Stuart, and that our fathers acted wisely in preferring 
 the former to the latter. So long as the house of Stuart 
 ruled in Great Britain, which, with some interruption, was 
 above eighty years, the government was kept in a continual 
 fever, by the contention between the privileges of the people 
 and the prerogatives of the crown. If arms were dropped, 
 the noise of disputes continued : Or if these were silenced, 
 jealousy still corroded the heart, and threw the nation in- 
 to an unnatural ferment and disorder. And while we were 
 thus occupied in domestic disputes, a foreign power, dan- 
 gerous to public liberty, erected itself in Europe, without 
 any opposition from us, and even sometimes with our as- 
 sistance. 
 
 But during these last sixty years, when a parliamentary 
 establishment has taken place j whatever factions may have
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 487 
 
 prevailed, either among the people or in public assemblies, 
 the whole force of our constitution has always fallen to one 
 side, and an uninterrupted harmony has been preserved 
 between our princes and our parliaments. Public liberty, 
 with internal peace and order, has flourished almost with- 
 out interruption : Trade and manufactures, and agricul- 
 ture, have increased : The arts, and sciences, and philoso- 
 phy, have been cultivated. Even religious parties have 
 been necessitated to lay aside their mutual rancour ; and 
 the glory of the nation has spread itself all over Europe; 
 derived equally from our progress in the arts of peace, 
 and from valour and success in war. So long and so glo- 
 rious a period no nation almost can boast of: Nor is there 
 another instance in the whole history of mankind, that so 
 many millions of people have, during such a space of time, 
 been held together, in a manner so free, so rational, and 
 so suitable to the dignity of human nature. 
 
 But though this recent experience seems clearly to de- 
 cide in favour of the present establishment, there are some 
 circumstances to be thrown into the other scale ; and it 
 is dangerous to regulate our judgment by one event or ex- 
 ample. 
 
 We have had two rebellions during the flourishing pe- 
 riod above mentioned, besides plots and conspiracies with- 
 out number And if none of these have produced any 
 very fatal event, we may ascribe our escape chiefly to the 
 narrow genius of those princes who disputed our establish- 
 ment; and we may esteem ourselves so far fortunate. But 
 the claims of the banished family, I fear, are not yet anti- 
 quated ; and who can foretell, that their future attempts 
 will produce no greater disorder ? 
 
 The disputes between privilege and prerogative may ea- 
 sily be composed by laws, and votes, ana conferences, and
 
 l&S 1TSSAY XV. 
 
 concessions, where there is tolerable temper or prudence 
 on both sides, or on either side. Among contending titles, 
 the question can only be determined by the sword, and by 
 devastation, and by civil war. 
 
 A prince, who fills the throne with a disputed title, 
 dares not arm his subjects ; the only method of securing a 
 people fully, both against domestic oppression and foreign 
 conquest. 
 
 Notwithstanding our riches and renown, what a criti- 
 cal escape did we make, by the late peace, from dangers, 
 which were owing not so much to bad conduct and ill 
 success in wax, as to the pernicious practice of mortgaging 
 our finances, and the still more pernicious maxim of never 
 paying off our encumbrances? Such fatal measures would 
 not probably have been embraced, had it not been to se- 
 cure a precarious establishment. 
 
 But to convince us, that an hereditary title is to be em- 
 braced rather than a parliamentary one, which is not sup- 
 ported by any other views or motives; a man needs only 
 transport himself back to the era of the Restoration, and 
 suppose that he had had a seat in that parliament which 
 recalled the royal family, and put a period to the greatest 
 disorders that ever arose from the opposite pretensions of 
 prince and people. What would have been thought of 
 one that had proposed, at that time, to set aside Charles 
 II. and settle the crown on the Duke of York or Glou- 
 cester, merely in order to exclude all high claims, like those 
 of their father and grandfather? Would not such a one 
 have been regarded as an extravagant projector, who lo- 
 ved dangerous remedies, and could tamper and play with 
 a government and national constitution, like a quack with 
 a sickly patient. 
 
 In reality, the reason assigned by the nation for cxclu-
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION". 48$ 
 
 ding the race of Stuart, and so many other branches of 
 the royal family, is not on account of their hereditary title} 
 (a reason which would, to vulgar apprehensions, have ap- 
 peared altogether absurd), but on account of their religion 
 which leads us to compare the disadvantages above men- 
 tioned in each establishment. 
 
 I confess that, considering the matter in general, it were 
 much to be wished that our prince had no foreign domi- 
 nions, and could confine all his attention to the govern- 
 ment of this island. For not to mention some real incon- 
 veniences that may result from territories on the continent, 
 they afford such a handle for calumny and defamation, as 
 is greedily seized by the people, always disposed to think 
 ill of their superiors. It must, however, be acknowledged, 
 that Hanover is, perhaps, the spot of ground in Europe 
 the least inconvenient for a King of England. It lies 
 in the heart of Germany, at a distance from the great 
 powers, which are our natural rivals: It is protected by the 
 laws of the empire, as well as by the arms of its own so- 
 vereign : And it serves only to connect us more closely 
 with the house of Austria, our natural ally. 
 
 The religious persuasion of the house of Stuart is an 
 inconvenience of a much deeper die, and would threaten 
 us with much more dismal consequences. The Roman 
 Catholic religion, with its train of priests and friars, is 
 more expensive than ours ; even though unaccompanied 
 with its natural attendants of inquisitors, and stakes, and 
 gibbets, it is less tolerating : And not content with dividing 
 the sacerdotal from the regal office, (which must be preju- 
 dicial to any state), it bestows the former on a foreigner, 
 who has always a separate interest from that of the public, 
 and may often have an opposite one. 
 
 But were this religion ever so advantageous to society,
 
 490 ESSAY XV. 
 
 it is contrary to that which is established among us, and 
 which is likely to keep possession, for a long time, of the 
 minds of the people. And though it is much to be hoped, 
 that the progress of reason will, by degrees, abate the acri- 
 mony of opposite religions all over Europe ; yet the spirit 
 of moderation has, as yet, made too slow advances to be 
 entirely trusted. 
 
 Thus, upon the whole, the advantages of the settlement 
 in the family of Stuart, which frees us from a disputed 
 title, seem to bear some proportion with those of the settle- 
 ment in the family of Hanover, which trees us from the 
 claims of prerogative; but, at the same time, its disadvan- 
 tages, by placing on the throne a Roman Catholic, are 
 greater than those of the oiher establishment, in settling 
 the crown on a foreign prince. What party an impartial 
 patriot, in the reign of K. William or Q. Anne, would 
 have chosen amidst these opposite views, may perhaps to 
 some appear hard to determine. 
 
 But the settlement in the house of Hanover has actually 
 taken place. The princes of that family, without intrigue, 
 without cabal, without solicitation on their part, have been 
 called to mount our throne, by the united voice of the 
 whole legislative body. They have, since their accession, 
 displayed, in all their actions, the utmost mildness, equity, 
 and regard to the laws and constitution. Our own mini- 
 sters, our own parliaments, ourselves, have governed us; 
 and if aught ill has befallen us, we can only blame fortune 
 or ourselves. What a reproach must we become among 
 nations, if, disgusted with a settlement so deliberately made, 
 and whose conditions have been so religiously observed, we 
 should throw every thing again into confusion ; and by 
 our levity and rebellious disposition prove ourselves total-
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 49 1 
 
 Iy unfit for any state but that of absolute slavery and sub- 
 jection ? 
 
 The greatest inconvenience, attending a disputed title, 
 is, that it brings us in danger of civil wars and rebellions. 
 "What wise man, to avoid this inconvenience, would run 
 directly into a civil war and rebellion ? Not to mention, 
 that so long possession, secured by so many laws, must, ere 
 this time, in the apprehension of a great part of the nation, 
 have begotten a title in the house of Hanover, indepen- 
 dent of their present possession : So that now we should 
 not, even by a revolution, obtain the end of avoiding a dis- 
 puted title. 
 
 No revolution made by national forces, will ever be able, 
 without some other great necessity, to abolish our debts 
 and encumbrances, in which the interest of so many persons 
 is concerned. And a revolution made by foreign forces 
 is a conquest ; a calamity with which the precarious ba- 
 lance of power threatens us, and which our civil dissen- 
 sions are likely, above all other circumstances, to bring 
 Hpon us.
 
 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 JDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 J.T is not with forms of government, as with other artifi- 
 cial contrivances; where an oid engine may be rejected, if 
 ■we can discover another more accurate and commodious, 
 or where trials may safely be made, even though the suc- 
 cess be doubtful. An established government has an infi- 
 nite advantage, by that very circumstance of its being esta- 
 blished 5 the bulk of mankind being governed by authori- 
 ty, not reason, and never attributing authority to any thing 
 that has not the recommendation of antiquity. 
 
 To tamper, therefore, in this affair, or try experiments 
 merely upon the credit of supposed argument and philoso- 
 phy, can never be the part of a wise magistrate, who will 
 bear a reverence to what carries the marks of age; and 
 though he may attempt some improvements for the public 
 <rocd, vet will he adjust his innovations, as much as possi- 
 ble, to the ancient fabric, and preserve entire the chief 
 pillars and supports of the constitution. 
 
 The math- maticians in Europe have been much divided 
 concerning that figure of a ship which is the most commo- 
 dious for sailing; and Huygens, who at last determined 
 the controversy, is justly thought to have obliged the 
 learned as well as commercial world ; though Columbus 
 had sailed to America, and Sir Francis Drake made the
 
 iDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 493 
 
 tour of the world, without any such discovery. As one 
 form of government must be allowed more perfect than an- 
 other, independent of the manners and humours of parti- 
 cular men ; why may we not inquire what is the most per- 
 fect of all, though the common botched and inaccurate go- 
 vernments seems to serve the purposes of society, and though 
 it be not so easy to establish a new system of government, 
 as to build a vessel upon a new construction ? The sub- 
 ject is surely the most worthy of curiosity of any the wit of 
 man can possibly devise. And who knows, if this contro- 
 versy were fixed by the universal consent of the wise and 
 learned, but, in some future age, an opportunity might be 
 afforded of reducing the theory to practice, either by a dis- 
 solution of some old government,^!' by the combination of 
 men to form a new one, in some distant part of the world ? 
 In all cases, it must be advantageous to know what is the 
 most perfect in the kind, that we may be able to bring any 
 real constitution or form of government as near it as pos- 
 sible, by such gentle alterations and innovations as may 
 not -Ave too great disturbance to society. 
 
 All I pretend to in the present essay is, to revive this 
 subject of speculation ; and therefore I shall deliver my 
 sentiments in as few words as possible. Along dissertation 
 on that bend would not, I apprehend, be very acceptable 
 to the public, who will be apt to regard such disquisitions 
 both as useless and chimerical. 
 
 All plans of government, which suppose great reforma- 
 tion in the manners of mankind, arc plainly imaginary. 
 Of this nature, are the Republic of Plato, and the Utopia 
 of Sir Thomas More. The Oceana is the only valuable 
 model of a commonwealth that has yet been offered to the 
 public. 
 
 The chief defects of the Oceana seem to be these : First,
 
 49 4< ESSAY XVI. 
 
 Its rotation is inconvenient, by throwing men, of whatever 
 abilities, by intervals, out of public employment. Second- 
 ly, Its Agrarian is impracticable. Men will soon learn 
 the art which was practised in ancient Rome, of conceal- 
 ing their possessions under other people's names, till at 
 last the abuse will become so common, that they will throw 
 off even the appearance of restraint. Thirdly, the Oceana 
 provides not a sufficient security for liberty, or the redress 
 of grievances. The senate must propose, and the people 
 consent; by which means, the senate have not only a ne- 
 gative upon the people, but, what is of much greater con- 
 sequence, their negative goes before the votes of the peo- 
 ple. Were the king's negative of the same nature in the 
 English constitution, and could he prevent any bill from 
 coming into parliament, he would be an absolute monarch. 
 As his negative follows the votes of the houses, it is of lit- 
 tle consequence, such a difference is there in the manner 
 of placing the same thing. When a popular bill has 
 been debated in parliament, is brought to maturity, all its 
 conveniences and inconveniences weighed and balanced; 
 if afterwards it be presented for the royal assent, few 
 princes will venture to reject the unanimous desire of the 
 people. But could the king crush a disagreeable bill in 
 embryo, (as was the case for some time in the Scottish 
 parliament, by means of the lords of the articles,) the Bri- 
 tish government would have no balance, nor would grie- 
 vances ever be redressed ; and it is certain, that exorbitant 
 power proceeds not in any government from new laws, so 
 much as from neglecting to remedy the abuses which fre- 
 quently rise from the old ones. A government, says Ma- 
 chiavel, must often be brought back to its original prin- 
 ciples. It appears then, that in the Oceana, the whole 
 legislature may be said to rest in the senate ; which Har-
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 49j 
 
 vington would own to be an inconvenient form of govern- 
 ment, especially after the Agrarian is abolished. 
 
 Here is a form of government, to which I cannot, in 
 theory, discover any considerable objection. 
 
 Let Great Britain and Ireland, or any territory of equal 
 extent, be divided into 1 00 counties, and each county in- 
 to 100 parishes, making in all 10,000. If the country pro- 
 posed to be erected into a commonwealth be of more nar- 
 row extent, we may diminish the number of counties; but 
 never bring them below thirty. If it be of greater ex- 
 tent, it were better to enlarge the parishes, or throw more 
 parishes into a county, than increase the number of 
 counties. 
 
 Let all the freeholders of twenty pounds a-year in the 
 county, and all the householders worth 500 pounds in the 
 town parishes, meet annually in the parish church, and 
 choose, by ballot, some freeholder of the county for their 
 member, whom we shall call the county representative. 
 
 Let the 100 county representatives, two days after their 
 election, meet in the county town, and choose by ballot, 
 from their own body, ten county maghtrates, and one se- 
 nator. There are, therefore, in the whole commonwealth, 
 100 senators, 1100 county magistrates, and 10,000 county 
 representatives ; for we shall bestow on all senators the 
 authority of county magistrates, and on all county magis- 
 trates the authority of county representatives. 
 
 Let the senators meet in the capital, and be endowed 
 with the whole executive power of the commonwealth ; 
 the power of peace and war, of giving orders to generals, 
 admirals, and ambassadors, and, in short, all the prero- 
 gatives of a British king, except his negative. 
 
 Let the county representatives meet in their particular 
 counties, and possess the whole legislative power of the
 
 19G BSSAY XVI. 
 
 commonwealth, the greater number of counties deciding 
 the question ; and where these are equal, let the senate 
 have the casting vote. 
 
 Every new law must first be debated in the senate ; and 
 though rejected by it, if ten senators insist and protest, it 
 must be sent down to the counties. The senate, if they 
 please, may join to the copy of the law their reasons for 
 receiving or rejecting it. 
 
 Because it would be troublesome to assemble all the 
 county representatives for every trivial law that may be 
 requisite, the senate have their choice of sending down the 
 law either to the county magistrates or county represen- 
 tatives. 
 
 The magistrates, though the law be referred to them, 
 may, if they please, call the representatives, and submit 
 the affair to their determination. 
 
 Whether the law be referred by the senate to the coun- 
 ty magistrates or representatives, a copy of it, and of the 
 senate's reasons, must be sent to every representative eight 
 days before the day appointed for the assembling, in order 
 to deliberate concerning it. And though the determina- 
 tion be, by the senate, referred to the magistrates, if five 
 representatives of the county order the magistrates to as- 
 semble the whole court of representatives, and submit the 
 affair to their determination, they must obey. 
 
 Either the county magistrates or representatives may 
 give, to the senator of the county, the copy of a law to be 
 proposed to the senate •, and if five counties concur in the 
 same order, the law, though refused by the senate, must 
 come either to the county magistrates or representatives, 
 as is contained in the order of the five counties. 
 
 Any twenty counties, by a vote either of their magis*
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 497 
 
 trates or representatives, may throw any man out of. all 
 public offices for a year. Thirty counties fur three years. 
 
 The senate has a power of throwing out any member 
 or number of members of its own body, not to be re-elect- 
 ed for that year. The senate cannot throw out twice in 
 a year the senator oi the same county. 
 
 The power of the old senate continues for three weeks 
 after the annual election of the county representatives. 
 Then all the new senators are shut up in a conclave like 
 the cardinals , and by an intricate ballot, such as that of 
 Yinice or Malta, they choose the following magistrates ; 
 a protector, who represents the dignity of tiie common- 
 wealth, and presides in the senate ; two secretaries of state : 
 these six councils, a council of state, a council of religion 
 and learning, a council of trade, a council of laws, a coun- 
 cil of war, a council of the admiralty, each council con- 
 sisting of live persons ; together with six commissioners 
 of the treasury, and a first commissioner. All these must 
 be senators. The senate also names all the ambassadors 
 to foreign courts, who may either be senators or not. 
 
 The senate may continue any or all of these, but must 
 re-elect them every year. 
 
 The protector and two secretaries have session and suf- 
 frage in the council of state. The business of that coun- 
 cil is all foreign politics. The council of state has session 
 and suffrage in all the other councils. 
 
 The council of religion and learning inspects the uni- 
 versities and clergy. That of trade inspects every thing 
 that may affect commerce. That of laws inspects ail the 
 abuses of law by the inferior magistrates, and examines 
 what improvements may be made of the municipal law. 
 That of war inspects the militia and its discipline, maga- 
 zines, stores, &c. and when the republic is in war, exa- 
 
 vol. i. 2 k
 
 498 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 mines into the proper orders tor generals. The council of 
 admiralty has the same power with regard to the navy, 
 together with the nomination of the captains and all infe- 
 rior officers. 
 
 None of these councils can give orders themselves, ex- 
 cept where they receive such powers from the senate. In 
 other cases, they must communicate every thing to the se- 
 nate. 
 
 When the senate is under adjournment, any of the 
 councils may assemble it before the day appointed for its 
 meeting. 
 
 Besides these councils or courts, there is another called 
 the court of competitors ,- which is thus constituted. If 
 any candidates lea- the office of senator have more votes 
 than a third of the representatives, that candidate who has 
 most votes, next to the senator elected, becomes incapable 
 for one year of all public offices, even of being a magis- 
 trate or representative: B it he takes his seat in the court 
 of competitors. Here then is a court which may sometimes 
 consist of a hundred members, sometimes have no mem- 
 bers at all ; and by that means be for a year abolished. 
 
 The court of competitors has no power in the common- 
 wealth. It has only the inspection of public accounts, and 
 the accusing of any man bekre the senate. If the senate 
 acquit him, the court of competitors may, if they please, 
 apj tal to the people, either magistrates or representatives. 
 I run that appeal, she magistrates or representatives meet 
 on the d.v a; joins. J by the court ol competitors, and 
 choose in each county three pel sons; nora which number 
 excry senator is excluded. These, to the number of 300, 
 meet in the t.. ual, and brii :. die person accused to a new 
 trial. 
 
 The court of competitors may propose any law to the
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 499 
 
 senate ; and if refused, may appeal to the people, that is, 
 to the magistrates or representatives, who examine it in 
 their counties. Every senator, who is thrown out of the 
 senate by a vote of the court, takes his seat in the court of 
 competitors. 
 
 The senate possesses all the judicative authority of the 
 House of Lords, that is, all the appeals from the inferior 
 courts. It likewise appoints the Lord Chancellor, and all 
 the officers of the law. 
 
 Every county is a kind of republic within itself, and the 
 representatives may make bye-laws ; which have no autho- 
 rity till three months after they are voted. A copy of the 
 law is sent to the senate, and to every other county. The 
 senate, or any single county, may, at any time, annul any 
 bye- law of another county. 
 
 The representatives have all the authority of the British 
 justices of the peace in trials, commitments, &c. 
 
 The magistrates have the appointment of all the officers 
 of the revenue in each county. All causes with regard to 
 the revenue are carried ultimately by appeal before the ma- 
 gistrates. They pass the accounts of all the officers; but 
 must have their own accounts examined and passed at the 
 end of the year by the representatives. 
 
 The magistrates name rectors or ministers to all the pa- 
 rishes. 
 
 The Presbyterian government is established ; and the 
 highest ecclesiastical court is. an assembly or synod of all 
 the presbyters of the county. The magistrates may take 
 any cause from this court, and determine it themselves. 
 
 The magistrates may try, and depose or suspend any 
 presbyter. 
 
 The militia is established in imitation of that of Swisser- 
 Jand, which being well known, we shall not insist upon if #
 
 .500 essay xvr. 
 
 It will only be proper to make this addition, that an army 
 of '^OjOOO men be annually drawn out by rotation, paid and 
 encamped during six weeks in summer, that the duty of 
 a camp ma\ not be altogether unknown. 
 
 The magistrates appoint all the colonels and downwards. 
 The senate all upwards. During war, the general appoints 
 the colonel and downwards, and his commission is good 
 for a twelvemonth. But after that, it must be confirmed 
 by the magistrates of the county to which the regiment be- 
 longs. The magistrates may break any officer in the coun- 
 ty regiment. And the senate may do the same to any of- 
 ficer in the service. If the magistrates do not think pro- 
 per to confirm the general's choice, they may appoint ano- 
 ther officer in the place of him they reject. 
 
 All crimes are tried within the county by the magistrates 
 and a jury : But the senate can stop any trial, and bring 
 it before themselves. 
 
 Any county may indict any man before the senate for 
 any crime. 
 
 The protector, the two secretaires, the council of state, 
 with any five or more that the senate appoints, are pos- 
 sessed, on extraordinary emergencies, of dictatorial power 
 lor six months. 
 
 The protector may pardon any person condemned by 
 the inferior courts. 
 
 In time of war, no officer of the army that is in the field 
 can have any civil office in the commonwealth. 
 
 The capital, which we shall call London, may be allow- 
 ed four members in the senate. It may therefore be di- 
 vided into four counties. The representatives of each of 
 these choose one senator, and ten magistrates. There are 
 therefore in the city four senators, forty-four magistrates, 
 and four hundred representatives. The magistrates have
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 501 
 
 the same authority as in the counties. The representatives 
 also have the same authority ; but they never meet in one 
 general court : They give their votes in their particular 
 county or division of hundreds. 
 
 When they enact any bye-law, the greater number of 
 counties or divisions determines the matter. And where 
 these are equal, the magistrates have the casting vote. 
 
 The magistrates choose the mayor, sheriff, recorder, and 
 other officers of the city. 
 
 In the commonwealth, no representative, magistrate, or 
 senator, as such, has any salary. The protector, secreta- 
 ries, councils, and ambassadors, have salaries. 
 
 The first year in every century is set apart for correcting 
 all inequalities, which time may have produced in the re- 
 presentative. Tins must be done by the legislature. 
 
 The following political aphorisms may explain the rea- 
 son of these orders. 
 
 The lower sort of people and small proprietors are good 
 enough judges of one not very distant from them in rank 
 or habitation; and therefore, in their parochial meeting?, 
 will probably choose the best, or nearly the best represen- 
 tative: But they are wholly unfit for county-meetings, and 
 for electing into the higher offices of the republic. Their 
 ignorance gives the grandees an opportunity of deceiving 
 them. 
 
 Ten thousand, even though they were not annually elect- 
 ed, are a basis large enough for any free government. 
 It is true, the nobles in Poland are more than 10,0(30, and 
 yet these oppress the people. But as power always con- 
 tinues there in the same persons and families, this makes 
 them, in a manner, a different nation from the people. 
 Besides, the nobles are there united under a few heads of 
 families.
 
 502 OSAY XVI. 
 
 All free governments must consist of two councils, a less- 
 er and greater ; or, in other words, of a senate and people. 
 The people, as Harrington observes, would want wisdom 
 without the senate : The senate, without the people, would 
 want honesty. 
 
 A large assembly of 1000, for instance, to represent the 
 people, if allowed to debate, would fall into disorder. If 
 not allowed to debate, the senate has a negative upon 
 them, and the worst kind of negative, that before resolu- 
 tion. 
 
 Here therefore is an inconvenience, which no govern- 
 ment has yet fully remedied, but which is the easiest to be 
 remedied in the avorld. If the people debate, all is con- 
 fusion : If they do not debate, they can only resolve ; and 
 then the senate carves for them. Divide the people into 
 many separate bodies ; and then they may debate with 
 safety, and every inconvenience seems to be prevented. 
 
 Cardinal de Retz says, that all numerous assemblies, 
 however composed, are mere mob, and swayed in their 
 debates by the least motive This we find confirmed by 
 dady experience. When an absurdity strikes a member, 
 he conveys it to his neighbour, and so on, till iho whole 
 be infected. Separate this great body ; and though every 
 member be only of middling sense, it is not probable that 
 any thing but reason can prevail over the whole. Influ- 
 ence and example being removed, good sense will always 
 get the better of bad among a number of people. 
 
 There are two things to be guarded against in every 
 senate .- Its combination and its division. Its combination 
 is most dangerous. And against this inconvenience we 
 have provided the following remedies: 1. The great de- 
 pendence of the senators on the people by annual elec- 
 tions; and that not by an undistinguished rabble, like the
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 503 
 
 English electors, but by men of fortune and education. 2. 
 The small power they are allowed. They have few offices to 
 dispose of. Almost all are given by the magistrates in the 
 counties. 3. The court of competitors; which being com- 
 posed of men that are their rivals, next to them in interest, 
 and uneasy in their present situation, will be sure to take 
 all advantages against them. 
 
 The division of the senate is prevented, I. By the small- 
 ness of their number. 2. As faction supposes a combination 
 in a separate interest, it ■ prevented by their dependence 
 on the people. 3. The) liave a power of expelling any 
 factious member. It is t; ue, when another member of the 
 same spirit comes from the county, they have no power of 
 expelling him : Nor is it fit they should ; for that shows 
 the humour to be in the people, and may possibly arise 
 from some ill conduct in public affairs. 4. Almost any man, 
 in a senate so regularly chosen by the people, may be sup- 
 posed lit for any civil office. It would be proper, there- 
 fore, for the senate to form some general resolutions with 
 regard to the disposing of offices among the members: 
 Which Resolutions would not confine them in critical times, 
 when extraordinary parts on rhe one hand, or extraordinary- 
 stupidity on the other, appears in any senator ; but they 
 would be sufficient to prevent intrigue and faction, by ma- 
 king the disposal of the offices a thing of course. For in- 
 stance, let it be a resolution, That no man shall enjoy any 
 office till he has sat four years in the senate : That, except 
 ambassadors, no man shall be in office two years following: 
 That no man shall attain the higher offices but through the 
 lower : That no man shall be protector twice, &c. The 
 senate of Venice govern themselves by such resolutions. 
 
 In foreign politics the interest of the senate can scarcely 
 ever be divided from that of the people ; and therefore it
 
 501 "ESSAY XVI. 
 
 is fit to make the senate absolute with regard to them j 
 otherwise there could be no secrecy or refined policy. Be- 
 sides, without money no alliance can be executed ; and the 
 senate is still sufficiently dependent. Nu to mention, that 
 the legislative power, being always superior to the exe- 
 cutive, the magistrates or representatives may interpose 
 whei ever they think proper. 
 
 The chief support of the British government is the op- 
 position of interest : But that, though in the main ser- 
 viceable, breeds endless factions. In the foregoing plan, 
 it does all the good without any of the harm. . The com- 
 petitors have no power of controlling the senate : They 
 have only the power of accusing, and appealing to the 
 people. 
 
 It is necessary, likewise, to prevent both combination 
 and division in the thousand magistrates. This is done 
 sufficiently by the separation of places and interests. 
 
 But least that should not be sufficient, their dependence 
 on the 10,000 for their elections serves to the same pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Nor is that all : for the 10,000 may resume the power 
 whenever they please ; and not only when they ail please, 
 but when any live of a hundred please ; which will happen 
 upon the very fiist suspicion of a separate interest. 
 
 The 10 ; 000 are too large a body either to unite or di- 
 vide, except when they meet in one place, and fall under 
 the guidance of ambitious leaders. Not to mention their 
 annual election, by the whole body of the people, that are 
 of any consideration. 
 
 A small commonwealth is the happiest government in 
 the world within itself, because every thing lies under the 
 eye of the rulers: But it may be subdued by great force
 
 IDEA OF A rERFFXT COMMONWEALTH. 505 
 
 from without. This scheme seems to have all the advan- 
 tages both of a in-eat unci a little commonwealth. 
 
 Every county-law may be annulled either by the senate 
 or another county; because that shows an opposition of 
 interest : In which case no part ought to decide lor itself. 
 The matter must be referred to the whole, which will best 
 determine what agrees with general interest. 
 
 As to the clergy and militia, the reasons of these orders n 
 are obvious. Without the dependence of the clergy on the 
 civil magistrates, and without a militia, it is in vain to think 
 that any free government will ever have security or stability. 
 Jn many governments, the inferior magistrates have no 
 rewards but what arise from their ambition, vanity, or 
 public spirit. The salaries of the French judges amount 
 not to t'se interest of the sums they pay tor their oiiices. 
 The Dut h burgo-masters have little more immediate pro- 
 fit than the English justices of peace, .or the members of the 
 House of Commons formerly. But lest any should suspect 
 that this would bc^et ne^ii^ence in the administration 
 (which is little to be feared, considering the natural ambi- 
 tion of mankind), let the magistrates have competent sala- 
 ries. The senators have access to so many honourable 
 and lucrative offices, that their attendance needs not be 
 bought. There is little attendance required of the repre- 
 sentatives. 
 
 That the foregoing plan of government is practicable, 
 no one can doubt who considers the resemblance that it 
 bears to the commonwealth of the United Provinces, a 
 wise and renowned government. The alterations in the 
 present scheme seem all evidently for the better. 1. The 
 representation is more equal. 2. The unlimited power of 
 the burgo masters in the towns, which forms a perfect 
 aristocracy in the Dutch commonwealth, is corrected bj
 
 30Q ESSAY XVI. 
 
 a well-tempered democracy, in giving to the people the 
 annual election of the county representatives. 3. The ne- 
 gative, which every province and town has upon the whole 
 body of the Dutch Republic, with regard to alliances, 
 peace, and war, and the imposition of taxes, is here re- 
 moved. 4. The counties, in the present plan, are not so 
 independent of each other, nor do they form separate bo- 
 dies so much as the seven provinces ; where the jealousy 
 and envy of the smaller provinces and towns against the 
 greater, particularly Holland and Amsterdam, have fre- 
 quently disturbed the government. 5. Larger powers, 
 though of the safest kind, are entrusted to the senate than 
 the States-General possess ; by which means, the former 
 may become more expeditious and secret in their resolu- 
 tions than it is possible for the latter. 
 
 The chief alterations that could be made on the British 
 government, in order to bring it to the most perfect model 
 of limited monarchy, seem to be the following. First, 
 The plan of Cromwell's parliament ought to be restored, 
 by making the representation i-cjuaJ, and by allowing none 
 to vote in the county elections who possess not a propeity 
 of L. 200 pounds value. Secondly, As such a House of 
 Commons would be too weighty ior a nail House of Lords, 
 like the present, the Bishops, and Scotch Peers, ought to 
 be removed : The number of the upper house ought to be 
 raised to three or four hundred : Their seats not heredi- 
 tary, but during life : They ought to have the election of 
 their own members •, and no commoner should be allowed 
 to refuse a seat that was offered him. By this means the 
 House of Lords would consist entirely of the men oi chief 
 credit, abilities, and interest in the nation ; and every tur- 
 bulent leader in the House of Commons might be taken 
 off, and connected by interest with the House ot Peers.
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 507 
 
 .Such an aristocracy would be an excellent barrier both to 
 the monarchy and against it. At present, the balance of 
 our orovcrnment depends in some measure on the abilities 
 and behaviouj of the sovereign ; which are variable and 
 uncertain circumstances. 
 
 Thi.: plan of limited monarchy, however corrected, seems 
 still liable to three great incoiv suiences. First, It re- 
 moves not entirely, though it may soften the parties of 
 court and country. Secondly ', The king'> personal charac- 
 ter must sail have great influence on the government. 
 Thirdly % The sword is in the hands of a single person, 
 who will always neglect to discipline the militia, in order 
 to have a pretent . for keeping up a standing army. 
 
 We shall conclude this subject, with observing the false- 
 hood of the common opinion, that no large state, such as 
 France or Great Britain, could ever be modelled into a 
 commonwealth, but that such a form of government can 
 only take place in a city or small territory. The contrary 
 seems probable. Though it is more difficult to form a re- 
 publican government in an extensive country than in a 
 city, there is more facility, when once it is formed, of 
 preserving it steady and uniform, without tumult and fac- 
 tion. It is not easy for the distant parts of a large state 
 to combine in any plan of free government ; but they easi- 
 ly conspire in the esteem and reverence for a single per- 
 son, who, by means ot this popular favour, may seize the 
 powei, and forcing the more obstinate to submit, may 
 establish a monarchical government. On the other hand, 
 a city readily concurs in the same notions of government, 
 the natural equality of property favours liberty, and the 
 nearness of habitation enables the citizens mutually to as- 
 sist each other. Even under absolute princes, the subor- 
 dinate government ol cities is commonly republican : while
 
 5 OS ESSAY XVI. 
 
 that of counties and provinces is monarchical. But these 
 same circumstances, which facilitate the erection of com- 
 monwealths in cities, render their constitution more frail 
 and uncertain. Democracies are turbulent. For however 
 the people may be separated or divided into small parties, 
 either in their votes or elections ; their near habitation in 
 a city will always make the force of popular tides and cur- 
 rents very sensible. Aristocracies are better adapted for 
 peace and order, and accordingly were most admired by 
 ancient writers ; but they are jealous and oppressive. In 
 u large government, which is modelled with masterly skill, 
 there is compass and room enough to refine the democra- 
 cy, from the lower people who may be admitted into the 
 first elections or first concoction of the commonwealth, to 
 the higher magistrates, who direct all the movements. At 
 the same time, the parts are so distant and remote, that it 
 is very difficult, either by intrigue, prejudice, or passion, to 
 hurry them into any measures against the public interest. 
 It is needless to inquire, whether such a government 
 would be immortal. I allow the justness of the poet's ex- 
 clamation on the endless projects of human race, Man and 
 for ever ! The world itself probably is not immortal. Such 
 consuming plagues may arise as would leave even a per- 
 fect government a weak prey to its neighbours. We know 
 not to what length enthusiasm, or other extraordinary 
 movements of the human mind, may transport men, to 
 the neglect of ail order and public good. Where differ- 
 ence of interest is removed, whimsical and unaccountable 
 factions often arise, from personal favour or enmity. Per- 
 haps rust may grow to the springs of the most accurate 
 political machine, and disorder its motions. Lastly, ex- 
 tensive conquests, when pursued, must be the ruin of every 
 free government : and of the more perfect government-
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 509 
 
 sooner than of the imperfect; because of the very advan- 
 tages which the former possess above the latter. And 
 though such a state ought to establish a fundamental law 
 against conquests, yet republics have ambition as well as 
 individuals, and present interest makes men forgetful of 
 their posterity. It is a sufficient incitement to human en- 
 deavours that such a government would flourish for many 
 ages ; without pretending to bestow, on any work of man, 
 that immortality which the Almighty seems to have refu- 
 sed to his own productions.
 
 NOTES 
 
 FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 NOTE [A.] p. 20. 
 
 1 have taken it for granted, according to the supposition of 
 Machiavel, that the ancient Persians had no nobility; though 
 there is reason to suspect, that the Florentine secretary, who 
 seems to have been better acquainted with the Roman than the 
 Greek authors, was mistaken in this particular. The more an- 
 cient Persians, whose manners are described by Xenophon, 
 were i free people, and had nobility. Their oportpoi were pre- 
 served even after the extending of their conquests and the con- 
 sequent change of their government. Arrian mentions them 
 in Darius's time, Dc exped. Alex. lib. ii. Historians also speak 
 often of the persons in command as men of family. T)granes, 
 who was general of the Medes under Xerxes, was of the race 
 of Achmaenes, Herod, lib. vii. cap. 62. Artachaeus, who di- 
 rected the cutting of the canal about Mount Athos, was of the 
 same family. Id. cap. 1 i7. Megabyzus was one of the seven 
 eminent Persians who conspired against the Magi. His son, 
 Zopyius, was in the highest command under Darius, and de- 
 livered Babylon to him. His grandson, Megabyzus, com- 
 manded the army defeated at Marathon. His great-grandson.
 
 512 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Zopyrus, was also eminent, and was banishrC Persia. Herod, 
 lib. iii. Time. lib. i. Rosaces, who commanded an army in 
 Egypt tinder Artaxerxes, was also descended from one of the 
 seven conspirators, Diod. Sic. lib. xvi. Age&ilaus, in Xenophon. 
 Hist. Graec lib. iv. being desirous of making a marriag > be- 
 twixt king Cotys bis ally, and the daughter of Spithriclates, a 
 Persian of rank, who had deserted to him, first asks Uolys 
 what family Spithrida.es is of. One of the most considerable 
 in Persia, says Cotys. Ariaeus, when offered the sovereignty 
 by Ciearchus and the ten thousand Creeks, refused it as of too 
 low a rank, and said, that so many eminent Persians would 
 never endure his rule. hi. dc exped, lib. ii. Some of the fa- 
 milies descended from the seven Persians above mentioned re- 
 mained during Alexander's successors; and Mithridatcs, in 
 Anliochus's time, is said by Polybius to be descended from one 
 of them, lib. v. cap. iS. Artabazus was esteemed, as Arrian 
 says, jv rag TT^atcii lli^rm ho. iii. And when Alexander mar- 
 lied in one day 80 ol i$is captains to Persian women, his inten- 
 tion plainly was to ally The Macedonians with the most emi- 
 nent Persian families. Id. lib. vii. Diodorus Siculus says, they 
 were of the most noble birth in Persia, lib. xvii. The govern- 
 ment of Persia was despotic, and conducted in many respects 
 after the eastern manner, but was not carried so far as to ex- 
 tirpate all nobility, and confound all ranks and orders. It left 
 men who were still great, by themselves and their family, in- 
 dependent of their office and commission. And the reason 
 why the Macedonians kept so easily dominion over them, was 
 owing to other causes easy to be found in the historians ; 
 ihough it must be owned that Machiavel's reasoning is, in 
 itself, just, however doubtful its application to the present 
 
 NOTE [B.] p. 44. 
 
 l>y that influence nfthcaOit:n, which I would justify, I mean 
 cnlv that which ari.es from the offices and honours that are at
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 513 
 
 the disposal of the crown. As to private bribery, it may be 
 considered in the same light as the practice of employing spies, 
 which is scarcely justifiable in a good minister, and is infamous 
 in a bad one: But to be a spy, or to be corrupted, is always 
 infamous under all ministers, and is to be regarded as a shame- 
 less prostitution. Polybius justly esteems the pecuniary in- 
 fluence of the senate and censors to be one of the regular 
 and constitutional weights which preserved the balance of the 
 Roman government. Lib. vi. cap. 15. 
 
 NOTE [C] p. 55. 
 
 I say in part ; for it is a vulgar error to imagine, that the 
 ancients were as great friends to toleration as the English or 
 Dutch are at present. The laws against external superstition, 
 among the Romans, were as ancient as the time of the twelve 
 tables ; and the Jews, as well as Christians, were sometimes 
 punished by them ; though, in general, these laws were not 
 rigorously executed. Immediately after the conquest of Gaul, 
 they forbad all but the natives to be initiated into the religion 
 of the Druids ; and this was a kind of persecution. In about 
 a century after this conquest, the emperor Claudius quite abo- 
 lished that superstition by penal laws ; which would hare been 
 a very grievous persecution, if the imitation of the Roman 
 manners had not, beforehand, weaned the Gauls from their 
 ancient prejudices. Suetonius in vita Claudii. Pliny ascribes 
 the abolition of the Druidical superstitions to Tiberius, proba- 
 bly because that emperor had taken some steps towards re- 
 straining them (lib. xxx. cap. i.) This is an instance of the 
 usual caution and moderation of the Romans in such cases ; 
 and very different from their violent and sanguinary method of 
 treating the Christians. Hence we may entertain a suspicion 
 that those furious persecutions of Cliristianity were in some 
 measure owing to the imprudent zeal and bigotry of the first 
 propagators of that sect ; and ecclesiastical history affords us 
 many reasons to confirm this suspicion. 
 
 VOL. I. 2 L
 
 H NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 NOTE [D.] p. 99. 
 
 The orators formed the taste of the Athenian people, not 
 the people of the orators. Gorgias Leontinus was very taking 
 with them, till they became acquainted with a better manner. 
 His figures of speech, says Diodorus Siculus, his antithesis, his 
 itroKnXcs., his cpotTitevrov, which are now despised, had a great ef- 
 fect upon the audience. Lib. xii. p. 106. ex editione Rhod. 
 It is in vain therefore for modern orators to plead the taste of 
 their hearers as an apology for their lame performances. It 
 would be stratige prejudice in favour of antiquity, not to allow 
 a British parliament to be naturally superior in judgment and 
 delicacy to an Athenian mob. 
 
 NOTE [E.] p. 115. 
 
 1 1 it be asked how we can reconcile to the foregoing prin- 
 ciples the happiness, riches, and good policy of the Chinese, 
 who have always been governed by a monarch, and can scarce- 
 ly form an idea of a free government ; I would answer, that 
 though the Chinese government be a pure monarchy, it is not, 
 properly speaking, absolute. This proceeds from a peculiari- 
 ty in the situation of that country ; They have no neighbours, 
 except the Tartars, from whom they were, in some measure, 
 secured, at least seemed to be secured, by their famous wall, 
 and by the great superiority of their numbers. By this means, 
 military discipline has always been much neglected amongst 
 them ; and their standing forces arc mere militia of the worst 
 kind, and unfit to suppress any general insurrection in coun- 
 tries so extreme] v populous. The sword, therefore, may pro- 
 perly be said to be always in the hands of the people ; which 
 is a sufficient restraint upon the monarch, and obliges him to 
 lay his mandarins, or governors of provinces, under the restraint 
 of general laws, in order to prevent those rebellions, which we 
 learn from history to have been so frequent and dangerous in
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 515 
 
 that government. Perhaps a pure monarchy of this kind, were 
 it fitted for defence against foreign enemies, would be the Dest 
 of all governments, as having both the tranquillity intending 
 kingly power, and the moderation and liberty of popular as- 
 semblies. 
 
 NOTE [F.] p. 162. 
 
 Were I not afraid of appearing too philosophical, T should 
 remind my reader of that famous doctrine, supposed to be ful- 
 ly proved in modern times, " That tastes and colours, and all 
 " other sensible qualities, lie not in the bodies, but merely in 
 " the senses." The case is the same with beauty and defor- 
 mity, virtue and vice. This doctrine, however, takes off no 
 more from the reality of the latter qualities, than from that of 
 the former ; nor need it give any umbrage either to critics or 
 moralists. Though colours were allowed to lie only in the eye, 
 would dyers or painters ever be less regarded or esteemed ? 
 There is a sufficient uniformity in the senses and feelings of 
 mankind, to make all these qualities the objects of art and rea- 
 soning, and to have the greatest influence on life and man- 
 ners. And as it is certain, that the discovery above mentioned 
 in natural philosophy makes no alteration on action and con- 
 duct, why should a like discovery in moral philosophy make 
 any alteration ? 
 
 NOTE [G.] p. 175. 
 
 The Sceptic, perhaps, carries the matter too far, when he 
 limits all philosophical topics and reflections to these two. 
 There seem to be others, whose truth is undeniable, and 
 whose natural tendency is to tranquillize and soften all the 
 passions. Philosophy greedily -<'izes tlvse ; studies them, 
 weighs them, ccmmitG thee* tr» Hv memon . and familiarizes 
 them to the mind: And their influence on tempers, which are
 
 516 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 thoughtful, gentle, and moderate, may be considerable. But 
 what is their influence, you will say, if the temper be antece- 
 dently disposed after the same manner as that to which they 
 pretend to form it ? They may, at least, fortify that temper, 
 and furnish it with view?, by which it may entertain and nou- 
 rish itself. Here are a few examples of such philosophical 
 reflections. 
 
 1 . Is it not certain, that every condition has concealed ills? 
 Then why envy any body ? 
 
 2. Every one has known ills ; and there is a compensation 
 throughout. Why not be contented with the present ? 
 
 3. Custom deadens the sense both of the good and the ill. 
 and levels every thing. 
 
 4. Health and humour all. The rest of little consequence 
 except these be affected. 
 
 5. How many other good things have I ? Then why be vex 
 ed for one ill ? 
 
 6. How many are happy in the condition of which I com- 
 plain ? How many envy me ? 
 
 7. Every good must be paid for : Fortune by labour, favour 
 by flattery. Would 1 keep the price, yet have the commodity ? 
 
 8. Expect not too great happiness in life. Human nature 
 admits it not. 
 
 9. Propose not a happiness too complicated. But does that 
 depend on me ? Yes : The first choice does. Life is like a 
 game : One may choose the game : And passion, by degrees, 
 seizes the proper object. 
 
 10. Anticipate by your hopes and fancy future consolation, 
 which time infallibly brings to every affliction. 
 
 11. I desire to be rich. Why? That I may possess many 
 fine objects ; houses, gardens, equipage, Sec. How many fine 
 objects does nature offer to every one without expence ? If en- 
 joyed, sufficient. If not : See the effect of custom or of tem- 
 per, which would soon take oft" the relish of the riches. 
 
 12. 1 desire fame. Let this occur : If I act well, I shall 
 have the esteem of all my acquaintance. And what is all the 
 vest to me ?
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 517 
 
 These reflections are so obvious, that it is a wonder they oc- 
 cur not to every man. So convincing, that it is a wonder they 
 persuade not every man. But perhaps they do occur to and 
 persuade most men, when they consider human life by a ge- 
 neral and calm survey : But where any real, affecting incident 
 happens ; when passion is awakened, fancy agitated, example 
 draws, and counsel urges ; the philosopher is lost in the man, 
 and he seeks in vain for that persuasion which before seemed 
 so firm and unshaken. What remedy for this inconvenience? 
 Assist yourself by a frequent perusal of the entertaining mo- 
 ralists : Have recourse to the learning of Plutarch, the imagi- 
 nation of Lucian, the eloquence of Cicero, the wit of Seneca, 
 the gaiety of Montaigne, the sublimity of Shaftesbury. Moral 
 precepts, so couched, strike deep, and fortify the mind against 
 the illusions of passion. But trust not altogether to external 
 aid : By habit and study acquire that philosophical temper 
 which both gives force to reflection, and by rendering a great 
 part of your happiness independent, takes off the edge from all 
 disorderly passions, and tranquillizes the mind. Despise not 
 these helps ; but confide not too much in them neither ; un- 
 less nature has been favourable in the temper with which she 
 has endowed you. 
 
 NOTE [H.] p. 196. 
 
 It is a saying of Menander, Kott^a? fg#T<«r>jj «v3* «» «; 7tXuttu 
 Bicg Ovhig yiyatr ay. Men. apud Stobaeum. It is not in the 
 poivcr even of God to make a polite soldier. The contrary ob- 
 servation with regard to the manners of soldiers takes place in 
 our days. This seems to me a presumption, that the ancients 
 owed all their refinement and civility to books and study ; for 
 which, indeed, a soldier's life is not so well calculated. Com- 
 pany and the world is their sphere. And if there be any po- 
 liteness to be learned from company, they will certainly ha\e 
 a considerable share of it.
 
 51 S NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 NOTE [I.] p. 196. 
 
 Though all mankind have a strong propensity to religion at 
 certain times and in certain dispositions, yet are there feu- or 
 none who have it to that degree, and with that constancy, 
 which is requisite to support the character of this profession. It 
 must, therefore, happen, that clergymen, being drawn from 
 the common mass of mankind, as people are to other employ- 
 ments, by the views of profit, the greater part, though no 
 atheists or free-thinkers, will find it necessary, on particular 
 occasions, to feign more devotion than they are, at that time, 
 possessed of, and to maintain the appearance of fervour and 
 seriousness, even when jaded with the exercise? of their reli- 
 gion, or when they have their mind* engaged in the common 
 occupations of life. They must not, like tht rest of the world, 
 give scope to their natural movements and sentiments : They 
 must set a guard over their looks, and words, and actions : 
 And in order to support the veneration paid them by the mul- 
 titude, they must not only keep a remarkable reserve, but 
 must promote the spirit of superstition, by a continued gri- 
 mace and hypocrisy. This dissimulation often destroys the 
 candour and ingenuity of their temper, and makes an irrepa- 
 rable breach in their character. 
 
 If by chance any of them be possessed of a temper more sus- 
 ceptible of devotion than usual, so that he has but little occa- 
 sion for hypocrisy to support the character of his profession, 
 it is so natural for him to over rate this advantage, and to think 
 that it atones for every violation of morality, that frequently 
 he is not more virtuous than the hypocrite. And though few 
 dare openly avow those exploded opinions, that every t/iiiig is 
 laivfut to the saints, and that they alone have property in their 
 good.-; ; yet may we observe, that these principles lurk in every 
 bosom, and represent a zeal for religious observances as so 
 great a merit, that it may compensate for many vices and enor- 
 mities. This observation is so common, that all prudent men 
 are on their guard, when they meet with any extraordinary
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 5l c j 
 
 appearance of religion ; though at the same time they confess, 
 that there are many exceptions to this general rule, and that 
 probity and superstition, or even probity and fanaticism, are 
 not altogether and in every instance incompatible. 
 
 Most men are ambitious ; but the ambition of other men 
 may commonly be satisfied by excelling in their particular pro- 
 fession, and thereby promoting the interests of society. The 
 ambition of the clergy can often be satisfied only by promoting 
 ignorance and superstition and implicit faith and impious frauds. 
 And having got what Archimedes only wanted, ^namely, ano- 
 ther world, on which he could fix his engines , no wonder they 
 move this world at their pleasure. 
 
 Most men have an overweening conceit of themselves ; but 
 these have a peculiar temptation to that vice, who are regarded 
 with such veneration, and are even deemed sacred, by the ig- 
 norant multitude. 
 
 Most men are apt to bear a particular regard for members of 
 heir own profession ; but as a lawyer, or physician, or mer- 
 chant, does each of them follow out his business apart, the in- 
 terests of men of these professions are not so closely united as 
 the interests of clergymen of the same religion; where the 
 whole body gains by the veneration paid to their common te- 
 nets, and by the suppression of antagonists. 
 
 Few men can bear contradiction with patience ; but the 
 clergy too often proceed even to a degree of fury on this head : 
 Because all their credit and livelihood depend upon the belief 
 which their opinions meet with ; and they alone pretend to a 
 divine and supernatural authority, or have any colour for re- 
 presenting their antagonists as impious and profane. The 
 Odium Theologicum, or Theological Hatred, is noted even to a 
 proverb, and means that degree of rancour which is the most 
 furious and implacable. 
 
 Revenge is a natural passion to mankind ; but seems to reign 
 with the greatest force in priests and women : Because, being 
 deprived of the immediate exertion of anger, in violence and 
 combat, they are apt to fancy themselves despised on tiiat ac- 
 count ; and their pride supports their vindictive disposition.
 
 520 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Thus many of the vices of human nature are, by fixed moral 
 causes, inflamed in that profession ; and though several in- 
 dividuals escape the contagion, yet all wise governments will 
 be on their guard against the attempts of a society, who will 
 lor ever combine into one faction ; and while it acts as a so- 
 ciety, will for ever be actuated by ambition, pride, revenge, 
 and a persecuting spirit. 
 
 The temper of religion is grave and serious; and this is the 
 character required of priests, which confines them to strict 
 rules of decency, and commonly prevents irregularity and in- 
 temperance amongst them. The gaiety, much less the ex- 
 cesses of pleasure; is not permitted in that body ; and this vir- 
 tue is, perhaps, the only one which they owe to their profession. 
 In religions, indeed, founded on speculative principles, and 
 where public discourses make a part of religious service, it may 
 also be supposed that the clergy will have a considerable share 
 in the learning of the times ; though it is certain that their 
 taste in eloquence will always be greater than their proficiency 
 in reasoning and philosophy- But whoever possesses the other 
 noble virtues of humanity, meekness, and moderation, as very- 
 many of them, no doubt, do, is beholden for them to nature 
 or reflection, not to the genius of his calling. 
 
 it was no bad expedient in the oid Romans, for preventing 
 the strong effect of the priestly character, to make it a law, 
 that no one should be received into the sacerdotal office till 
 he was past fifty years of age. Dion. Hal. lib. i. The living a 
 layman till that age, it is persumed, would be able to fix the 
 character. 
 
 NOTE [K.] p. 197. 
 
 Caesar (dc Bella Gallico, lib.l.) says, that the Gallic horses 
 were very good, the German very bad. We find in lib. vii. 
 that he was obliged to mount some German cavalry with Gallic 
 horses. At present no part of Europe has so bad horses of all 
 kinds as France ; but Germany abounds with excellent war
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 521 
 
 horses. This may beget a little suspicion, that even animals 
 depend not on the climate, but on the different breeds, and on 
 the skill and care in rearing them. The north of England 
 abounds in the best hursts of all kinds which are perhaps in the 
 world. In the neighbouring counties, north side of the Tweed, 
 no good horses of any kind are to be met with. JStrubo, lib. ii. 
 rejects, in a great measure, the influence of climates upon men. 
 All is custom and education, says he. It is not from nature 
 that the Athenians are learned, the Lacedemonians ignorant, 
 and the Thebans too, who are still nearer neighbours to the for- 
 mer. Even the difference of animals, he adds, depends not on 
 climate. 
 
 NOTE [L.] p. 200. 
 
 A small sect or society amidst a greater, are commonly 
 most regular in their morals ; because they are more remarked, 
 and the faults of individuals draw dishonour on the whole. 
 The only exception to this rule is, when the superstition and 
 prejudices of the large society are so strong as to throw an in- 
 famy on the smaller society, independent of their morals. For 
 in that case, having no character either to save or gain, they 
 become careless of their behaviour, except among themselves. 
 
 NOTE [M.] p. 203. 
 
 I am apt to suspect the Negroes to be naturally inferior to 
 the Whites. There scarcely ever was a civilized nation of that 
 complexion, nor even any individual, eminent either in action 
 or speculation. No ingenious manufactures amongst them, no 
 arts, no sciences. On the other hand, the most rude and bar- 
 barous of the Whites, such as the ancient Germans, the present 
 Tartars, have still something eminent about them, in their va- 
 lour, form of government, or some other particular. Such a 
 uniform and constant difference could not happen, in so many
 
 522 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 countries and ages, it* nature h id rot made an original distinc- 
 tion between these breeds of men. Not to mention our colo- 
 nies, there are Negro slaves dispersed ::li over Europe, of 
 whom none ever discovered any symptom.-, of ingenuity; though 
 low people, without education, will start up imongst us, and 
 distinguish the-nse've* in every profession, in Jamaica, indeed, 
 they talk of one Negro as a man of parts and learning: but it 
 is likely he is admired for slender accomplishments, like a parrot 
 who speaks a i'ew words plainly. 
 
 NOTE [N\] p. 215. 
 
 Painters make no scruple of representing distress and sor- 
 row as will us any other passion : But they seem not to dwell 
 to much on these melancholy affections as the poets, who 
 though they copy every motion of the human breast, yet pass 
 quickly over the agreeable sentiments. A painter represents 
 onlv one instant ; and if that be passionate enough, it is sure 
 to affect and delight the spectator : But nothing can furnish to 
 the poet a variety of scenes, and incidents, and sentiments, ex- 
 cept distress, terror, or anxiety. Complete joy and satisfaction 
 is attended with security, and leaves no farther room for action, 
 
 NOTE [0.] p. 255. 
 
 The more ancient Romans lived in perpetual war with all 
 their neighbours : and in old Latin, the term kostis, expressed 
 both a stranger and an enemy. This is remarked by Cicero ; 
 but by him is ascribed to the humanity of his ancestors, who 
 softened, as much as possible, the denomination of an enemy, 
 by calling him by the same appellation which signified a 
 stranger. Dc Off] lib. ii. It is however much more probable, 
 from the manners of the times, that the ferocity of those people 
 was so great as to make them regard ail strangers as enemies, 
 and call them by the same name. Jt is not, besides, consistent
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 523 
 
 with the most common maxims of policy or of nature, that any 
 state j-hould regard its public enemies with a friendly eye, or 
 preserve any such sentiments for them as the Roman orator 
 would ascribe to his ancestors. Not to mention, that the early 
 Romans reallv exercised piracy, as we learn from their first 
 treaties with Carthage, preserved by Polybius, lib. iii. and con- 
 sequently, like the Sallee and Algerine rovers, were actually at 
 war with most nations, and a stranger and an enemy were with 
 them almost synonymous. 
 
 NOTE [P.] P- 280. 
 
 A private soldier in the Roman infantry had a denarius 
 a-day, som what less than eightpence. The Roman emperors 
 had commonly 25 legions in pay. which, allowing 5000 men to 
 a legion, makes 125,000. Tacit. Ann. Vib.iv. It is true, there 
 were also auxiliaries to the legions ; but their numbers are un- 
 certain as well as their pay. To consider only the legionaries, 
 the pay of the private men could not exceed 1,600,000 pounds. 
 Now, the parliament in the last war commonly allowed for the 
 fleet 2,500,000. We have therefore 900,000 over for the of- 
 ficers and other expences of the Roman legions. There seem 
 to have been but few officers in the Roman armies in compari- 
 son of what are employed in all our modern troops, except 
 some Swiss corps. And these officers had very small pay : A 
 centurion, for instance, only double a common soldier. And 
 as the soldiers from their pay (Tacit. Ann. lib. i. ) bought their 
 own clothes, arms, tents, and baggage ; this must also dimi- 
 nish considerably the other charges of the army. So little ex- 
 pensive was that mighty government, and so easy was its yoke 
 over the world. And, indeed, this is the more natural con- 
 clusion from the foregoing calculations. For money, after the 
 conquest of Egypt, seems to have been nearly in as great 
 plenty at Rome as it is at present in the richest of the Euro- 
 pean kingdoms.
 
 521 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 NOTE [Q_.] p. 285. 
 
 These facts I give upon the authority of M. du Tot, in his 
 Reflections Politiques, an author of reputation. Though I must 
 confess, that the facts which he advances on other occasions, 
 are often so suspicious, as to make his authority less in this 
 matter. However, the general observation, that the augment- 
 ing of the money in France does not at first proportionably 
 augment the prices, is certainly just. 
 
 By the bye, this seems to be one of the best reasons which 
 can be given, for a gradual and universal increase of the deno- 
 mination of money, though it has been entirely overlooked in 
 all those volumes which have been written on that question by 
 Melon du Tot, and Paris de Verney. Were all our money, for 
 instance, recoined, and a penny's worth of silver taken from 
 every shilling, the new shilling would probably purchase every 
 thing that could have been bought by the old; the prices of 
 every thing would thereby be insensibly diminished ; foreign 
 trade enlivened ; and domestic industry, by the circulation of 
 a great number of pounds and shillings, would receive some in- 
 crease and encouragement. In executing such a project, it 
 would be better to make the new shilling pass for 24- halfpence, 
 in order to preserve the illusion, and to make it be taken for 
 the same. And as a recoinage of our silver begins to be re- 
 quisite, by the continual wearing of our shillings and sixpences, 
 it may be doubtful, whether we ought to imitate the example 
 in King William's reign, when the dipt money was raised to 
 the old standard. 
 
 NOTE [R.] p. 331. 
 
 It must carefully be remarked, that throughout this dis- 
 course, wherever I speak of the level of money, I mean always 
 its proportional level to the commodities, labour, industry and 
 skill, which is in the several states. And I assert, that where
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 525 
 
 these advantages are double, triple, quadruple, to what they are 
 in the neighbouring states, the money infallibly will also be 
 double, triple, and quadruple. The only circumstance that 
 can obstruct the exactness of these proportions, is the cxpence 
 of transporting the commodities from one place to another; 
 and this expence is sometimes unequal. Thus the corn, cat- 
 tle, cheese, butter of Derbyshire, cannot draw the money of 
 London, so much as the manufactures of London draw the 
 money of Derbyshire. But this objection is only a seeming 
 one ; for so far as the transport of commodities is expensive, 
 so far is the communication between the places obstructed and 
 imperfect. 
 
 NOTE [S.] p. 361. 
 
 I have heard it has been computed, that all the creditors 
 of the public, natives and foreigners, amount only to 17,000. 
 These make a figure at present on their income ; but in case 
 of a public bankruptcy, would, in an instant, become the low- 
 est, as well as the most wretched of the people. The dignity 
 and authority of the landed gentry and nobility is much better 
 rooted ; and would render the contention very unequal, if ever 
 we come to that extremity. One would incline to assign to 
 this event a very near period, such as half a century, had not 
 our father's prophecies of this kind been already found falla- 
 cious, by the duration of our public credit so much beyond all 
 reasonable expectation. When the astrologers in France were 
 every year foretelling the death of Henry IV. " These fellows," 
 says he, " must be right at last." We shall, therefore, be more 
 cautious than to assign any precise date ; and shall content our- 
 selves with pointing out the event in general. 
 
 NOTE [T.] p. 874. 
 
 Columella says, lib. iii. cap. S., that in Egypt and Africa 
 the bearing of twins was frequent, and even customary ; gemi-
 
 526 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 ni partus familiar es, ac pccne solennes sunt. If this was true, 
 there is a physical difference both in countries and ages. For 
 travellers make no such remarks on these countries at present- 
 On the contrary, we arc apt to suppose the northern nations 
 more prolific. As those two countries were provinces of the 
 Roman empire, it is difficult, though not altogether absurd, to 
 suppose that such a man as Columella might be mistaken with 
 regard to them. 
 
 NOTE [U.] p. SSO. 
 
 Epist. 122. The inhuman sports exhibited at Home, may 
 justly be considered too as an effect of* the people's contempt 
 for slaves, and was also a great cause of the general inhuma- 
 nity of their princes and rulers. Who can read the accounts 
 of the amphitheatrical entertainments without horror ? Or who 
 is surprised, that the emperors should treat that people in the 
 same way the people treated their inferiors? One's humanity 
 is apt to renew the barbarous wish of Caligula, that the peo- 
 ple had but one neck : A man could almost be pleased, by a 
 single blow, to put an end to such a race of monsters. You 
 may thank God, says the author above cited, (epist. 1.) ad- 
 dressing himself to the Roman people, that you have a mas- 
 ter, (to wit, the mild and merciful Nero,) who is incapable of 
 learning cruelty from your example. This was spoke in the 
 beginning of his reign ; but he fitted them very well after- 
 wards ; and, no doubt, was considerably improved by the sight 
 of the barbarous objects, to which he had, from his infancy, 
 been accustomed. 
 
 NOTE [X.] p. 3S3. 
 
 As servus was the name of the genus, and vemn of the spe- 
 cies without any correlative, this forms a strong presumption, 
 that the latter were bv far the least numerous. It is an univer-
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 527 
 
 pal observation which we may form upon language, that where 
 tv. o related parts of a whole bear any proportion to each other, 
 in numbers, rank, or consideration, there are always correla- 
 tive terms invented, which answer to both the parts, >nd ex- 
 press their mutual relation. If they bear no proportion to 
 each otlur. the term is only invented for the less, and marks 
 its distinction from the whole. Thus man and xuoman, waster 
 and servant, father and son, prince and subject, .stranger and ci- 
 tizen, are correlative terms. But the words seaman, carpenter, 
 smith, tailor, &c have no correspondent terms, which express 
 those who are no seamen, no carpenters, fire. Languages dif- 
 fer very much with regard to the particular words where this 
 distinction obtains ; and may thence afford very strong infe- 
 rences concerning the manners and customs o( different na- 
 tions. The military government of the Roman emperors had 
 exalted the soldiery so high, that they balanced all the other 
 orders of the state. Hence miles and paganus became relative 
 terms; a thing, till then, unknown to ancient, and stdl so to 
 modern languages. Modern superstition exalted the clergy so 
 high, that they overbalanced the whole state: Hence clergy 
 and laity are terms opposed in all modern languages ; and iti 
 these alone. And from the same principles i infer, that if the 
 number of slaves bought by the Romans from foreign coun- 
 tries had not extremely exceeded those which were bred at 
 home, verna would have had a correlative, which would have 
 expressed the former species of slaves. But these, it would 
 seem, composed the main body of the ancient slaves, and the 
 latter were but a few exceptions. 
 
 NOTE [Y.] p. SS3. 
 
 11 Nok temere ancillae ejus rei causa comparantur ut pari- 
 " ant." Digest, lib. v. tit- '■>. de licered. petit, lex L i~. The fol- 
 lowing texts are to the same purpose: '• Spadontm morbosum 
 " non esse, neque vitiosum, verbis mini videtur ; sed sanum 
 " esse, secuti ilium qui unum testiculuni hubet, qui etiamge-
 
 528 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 " nerare potest." Digest, lib. ii. tit. 1. de ccdilitio edictn, lex 6. 
 " § 2. Sin autem quis ita spado sit, ut tarn necessaria pars 
 " corporis penitus absit, morbus est." Id. lex 7- His impo- 
 tence, it seems, was only regarded so far as his health or life 
 might be affected by it. In other respects, he was full as va- 
 luable. Tbe same reasoning is employed with regard to female 
 slaves. " Quaeritur de ea muliere quae semper mortuos parit, 
 " an morbosa sit ? et ait Sabinus, si vulva; vitiohoc contingit, 
 " morbosam esse." Id. lex 14. It has even been doubted, 
 whether a woman pregnant was morbid or vitiated ; and it is 
 determined, that the is sound, not on account of the value of 
 her offspring, but because it is the natural part or office of 
 women to bear children. " Si mulier praegnans venerit, inter 
 " omnes convenit sanam earn esse. Maximum enim ac prae- 
 " cipuum munus fceminarum accipere ac tueri conceptum. 
 " Puerperam quoque sanam esse ; si modo nihil extrinsecus 
 " accedit, quod corpus ejus in aliquam valetudinem immitte- 
 " ret. De sterili Ccelius distinguere Trebatium elicit, ut si 
 " natura sterilis sit, sana sit; si vitio corporis, contra." Id. 
 
 NOTE [Z.] p. 392. 
 
 The practice of leaving great sums of money to friends, 
 though one bad near relations, was common in Greece as well 
 as Rome, as we may gather from Lucian. This practice pre- 
 vails much less in modern times ; and Ben Johnson's Volfone 
 is therefore almost entirely extracted from ancient authors, and 
 suits better the manners of those times. 
 
 It may justly be thought, that the liberty of divorces in Rome 
 was another discouragement to marriage. Such a practice pre- 
 vents not quarrels from humour, but rather increases them ; 
 and occasions also those from interest, which are much more 
 dangerous and destructive. See farther on this head, Fart I. 
 Essay XVIII. Perhaps too the unnatural lusts of the ancients 
 ouiiht to be taken into consideration as of some moment.
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 529 
 
 NOTE [AA.] p. 396. 
 
 Pltn. lib. xviii. cap. 3. The- same author, in cap. 6. says ; 
 Verumque fatentibus latifundia perdidere Italiam ; jam vero el 
 provincias. Sex domi semissem Africce possidcbani, cum interfe- 
 cit eos Nero princeps. In this view, the barbarous butchery 
 committed by the first Roman emperors, was not, perhaps, so 
 destructive to the public as we may imagine. These never 
 ceased till they had extinguished all the illustrious families 3 
 which had enjoyed the plunder of the world during the latter 
 ages of the republic. The new nobles who rose in their place 
 were less splendid, as we learn from Tacitus. Ann. lib. iii. cap. 
 55. 
 
 NOTE [BB.] p. 402. 
 
 We shall mention from Diodorus Siculus alone a few mas- 
 sacres, which passed in the course of sixty years, during the 
 most shining age of Greece. There were banished from Sy- 
 baris 500 of the nobles and their partisans; lib. xii. p. 77- ex 
 edit. Rhodomanni. Of Chians, 600 citizens banished ; lib. xiii. 
 p. 189. At Ephesus, 340 killed, 1000 banished ; lib. xiii. p. 
 223. Of Cyrenians, 500 nobles killed, all the rest banished ; 
 lib. xiv. p. 263. The Corinthians killed 120, banished 500; 
 lib. xiv. p. 304. Phaebidas the Spartan banished 300Baeotians ; 
 lib. xv. p. 342. Upon the fall of the Lacedemonians, demo- 
 cracies were restored in many cities, and severe vengeance ta- 
 ken of the nobles, after the Greek manner. But matters did 
 not end there. For the banished nobles, returning in many 
 places, butchered their adversaries at Phialac, in Corinth, in 
 Megara, in Phliasia. In this last place they killed 300 of the 
 people ; but these again revolting, killed above 600 of the no- 
 bles, and banished the rest ; lib. xv. p. 357. In Arcadia 1400 
 banished, besides many killed. The banished retired to Spar- 
 ta and to Pallantium : The latter were delivered up to their 
 vol. i. 2 m
 
 530 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 countrymen, and all killed ; lib. xv. p. 373. Of the banished 
 from Argos and Thebes, there were 500 in the Spartan army ; 
 id. p. 374. Here is a detail of the most remarkable of Aga- 
 thocles's cruelties from the same author. The people before 
 his usurpation had banished 600 nobles ; lib. xix. p, 655. Af- 
 terwards that tyrant, in concurrence with the people, killed 
 4000 nobles, and banished 6000; id. p. 617. He killed 4000 
 people at Gela ; id. p. 741. By Agathocles's brother 8000 
 banished from Syracuse ; lib. xx. p. 757. The inhabitants of 
 iEgesta, to the number of 40,000, were killed, man, woman, 
 and child ; and with tortures, for the sake of their money ; id. 
 p. 802. All the relations, to wit, father, brother, children, 
 grandfather, of his Libyan army, killed ; id. p. 803. He kill- 
 ed 7000 exiles after capitulation ; id. p. 816. It is to be re- 
 marked, that Agathocles was a man of great sense and cou- 
 rage, and is not to be suspected of wanton cruelty, contrary 
 to the maxims of his a^e. 
 
 NOTE [CC] p. 403. 
 
 In order to recommend his client to the favour of the peo- 
 ple, he enumerates all the sums he had expended. When 
 Xo^r/6? 30 minas ; Upon a chorus of men 20 minas ; urTrv^tyur- 
 txis, 8 minas ; av^^a-t yc^yav, 50 minas ; kvkXikm ya^o), 3 mi- 
 nas : Seven times tricrarch, when he spent 6 talents : Taxes, 
 once 30 minas: another time 40; yvpvxcixpyuv, 12 minas; 
 yo^yts TTxidixtj ya^a, 15 minas : xof/^cig yo^yuv, 12 minas ; 
 TrvppifrFTv-t;, ciyivuaiG, 7 minas ; t^c/i^u uftthXcpivcg, 15 minas ; 
 u^yjfccAtoc, 30 minas : In the whole ten talents 35 minas. An 
 immense sum for an Athenian fortune, and what alone would 
 be esteemed great riches, Oral. 20. It is true, he says, the 
 law did not oblige him absolutely to be at so much expence, 
 not above a fourth. But without the favour of the people, no- 
 body was so much as safe ; and this was the only way to gain 
 it. See farther, Oral. 21. de pop. statu. In another place, he 
 introduces a speaker, who says that he had spent his whole
 
 NOTES TO THE FITtST VOLUME. 531 
 
 fortune, and an immense one, eighty talents, for the people ; 
 Orat. 25. de Pro'). Evandri. The perotm, or strangers, find, 
 says he, if they do not contribute largely enough to the peo- 
 ple's fancy, that they have reason to repent it ; Orat. 30. con- 
 tra Phil. You may see with what care Demosthenes displays 
 his expences of this nature, when he pleads for himself de co- 
 rona ; and how he exaggerates Midias's stinginess in this par- 
 ticular, in his accusation of that criminal. Ail th;*, by the 
 bye, is a mark of a very iniquitous judicature : And yet the 
 Athenians valued themselves on having the most legal and re- 
 gular administration of any people in Greece. 
 
 NOTE [DD.] p. 405. 
 
 The authorities above cited are all historians, orators, and 
 philosophers, whose testimony is unquestioned. It is danger- 
 ous to rely upon writers who deal in ridicule and satire. What 
 will posterity, for instance, infer from this passage of Dr 
 Swift? " I told him, that in the kingdom of Tribnia (Britain), 
 " by the natives called Langdon London), where I had so- 
 " journed some time in my travels, the bulk of the people con- 
 " sist, in a manner, wholly of discoverers, witnesses, inform- 
 " ers, accusers, prosecutors, evidences, swearers, together 
 " with their several subservient and subaltern instruments, all 
 " under the colours, the conduct, and pay of ministers of state 
 " and their deputies. The plots in that kingdom are usually 
 " the workmanship of those persons," &c. Gulliver's Travels. 
 Such a representation might suit the government of Athens ; 
 not that of England, which is remarkable, even in modern 
 times, for humanity, justice, and liberty. Yet the Doctor's 
 satire, though carried to extremes, as is usual with him, even 
 beyond other satirical writers, did not altogether want an ob- 
 ject. The Bishop of Rochester, who was his friend, and of 
 the same party, had been banished a little before bjr a bill of 
 attainder, with great justice, but without such proof as was le- 
 gal, or according to the strict forms of common law.
 
 >32 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 NOTE [EE.] p. 413. 
 
 In general, there is more candour and sincerity in ancient 
 historians, but less exactness and care, than in the moderns. 
 Our speculative factions, especially those of religion, throw 
 such an illusion over our minds, that men seem to regard im- 
 partiality to their adversaries and to heretics as a vice or weak- 
 ness. But the commonness of books, by means of printing, 
 has obliged modern historians to be more careful in avoiding 
 contradictions and incongruities. Diodorus Siculus is a good 
 writer ; but it is with pain I see his narration contradict, in so 
 many particulars, the two most authentic pieces of all Greek 
 history, to wit, Xenophon's expedition, and Demosthenes's 
 orations. Plutarch and Appian seem scarce ever to have read 
 Cicero's epistles. 
 
 NOTE [FF.] p. 415. 
 
 Pliny, lib. vii. cap. 25. says, that Caesar used to boast, that 
 there had fallen in battle against him one million one hundred 
 and ninety-two thousand men, besides those who perished in 
 the civil wars. It is not probable that that conqueror could 
 ever pretend to be so exact in his computation. But allowing 
 the fact, it is likely that the Helvetii, Germans, and Britons, 
 whom he slaughtered, would amount to near a half of the num- 
 ber. 
 
 NOTE [GG.] p. 419. 
 
 We are to observe, that when Dionysius Halicarnassaeus 
 says, that if we regard the ancient walls of Home, the extent 
 of that city will not appear greater than that of Athens ; he 
 must mean the Acropolis and high town only. No ancient au- 
 thor ever speaks of the Pyraeum, Phalerus, and Munychia, as
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 533 
 
 the same with Athens. Much less can it be supposed, that 
 Dionysius would consider the matter in that light, after the 
 walls of Cimon and Pericles were destroyed, and Athens was 
 entirely separated from these other towns. This observation 
 destroys all Vossius's reasonings, and introduces common sense 
 into these calculations. 
 
 NOTE [HH.] p. 422. 
 
 Demost. contra Lept. The Athenians brought yearly from 
 Pontus 400,000 medimni or bushels of corn, as appeared from 
 the custom-house books. And this was the greater part of 
 their importation of corn. This, by the bye, is a strong proof 
 that there is some great mistake in the foregoing passage of 
 Athenaeus. For Attica itself was so barren of corn, that it 
 produced not enough even to maintain the peasants ; Tit. Liv.' 
 lib. xliii. cap. 6. And 400,000 medimni would scarcely feed 
 100,000 men during a twelvemonth. Lucian in his navigium 
 sive vota, says, that a ship, which, by the dimensions he gives, 
 seems to have been about the size of our third rates, carried 
 as much corn as would maintain Attica for a twelvemonth. 
 But perhaps Athens was decayed at that time ; and, besides, 
 it is not safe to trust to such loose rhetorical calculations; 
 
 NOTE [II.] p. 422. 
 
 Diod. Sic. lib. xvii. When Alexander attacked Thebes, 
 we may safely conclude that almost all the inhabitants were 
 present. Whoever is acquainted with the spirit of the Greeks, 
 especially of the Thebans, will never suspect that any of them 
 would desert their country when it was reduced to such ex- 
 treme peril and distress. As Alexander took the town by 
 storm, all those who bore arms were put to the sword without 
 mercy ; and they amounted only to 6000 men. Among these 
 were some strangers and manumitted slaves. The captives,
 
 534 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 consisting of old men, women, children, and slaves, were sold, 
 and they amounted to 30,000. We may therefore conclude, 
 that the free citizens in Thebes, of both sexes and all ages, 
 were near 24,000 ; the strangers and slaves about 12,000. 
 These last, we may observe, were somewhat fewer in propor- 
 tion than at Athens; as is reasonable to imagine from this 
 circumstance, that Athens was a town of more trade to sup- 
 port slaves, and of more entertainment to allure strangers. It 
 is also to be remarked, that 36,000 was the whole number of 
 people, both in the city of Thebes and the neighbouring ter- 
 ritory. A very moderate number, it must be confessed ; and 
 this computation, being founded on facts which appear indis- 
 putable, must have great weight in the present controversy. 
 The above-mentioned number of Rhodians, too, were all the 
 inhabitants of the island, who were free, and able to bear arms. 
 
 NOTE [KK.] p. 425. 
 
 Strabo, lib. v. says, that the Emperor Augustus prohibited 
 the raising houses higher than seventy feet. In another pas- 
 sage, lib. xvi. he speaks of the houses of Rome as remarkably 
 high. See also to the same purpose Vitruvius, lib. ii. cap. 8. 
 Aristides the sophist, in his oration s<$ Vauw, says, that Rome 
 consisted of cities on the top of cities ; ami that if one were to 
 spread it out, and unfold it, it would cover the whole surface 
 of Italy. Where an author indulges himself in such extrava- 
 gant declamations, and gives so much into the hyperbolical 
 style, one knows not how far he mu.-t be reduced. But this 
 reasoning seems natural : ii' Rome was built in so scattered a 
 manner as Dionysius says, and ran so much into the country, 
 there must have been very few streets where the houses were 
 raised so high. It is only for want of room that any body 
 builds in that inconvenient manner.
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 535 
 
 NOTE [LL.] p. 425. 
 
 Lib. ii. epist. 16. lib. v. epist. 6. It is true, Pliny there de- 
 scribes a country-house ; but since that was the idea which 
 the ancients formed of a magnificent and convenient building, 
 the great men would certainly build the same way in town. 
 " In laxitatem ruris excurrunt," says Seneca of the rich and 
 voluptuous, epist. 114. Valerius Maximus, lib. iv. cap. 4. speak- 
 ing of Cincinnatus's field of four acres, says, " Auguste se ha- 
 " bitare nunc putat, cujus domus tantum patet quantum Cin- 
 " cinnari rura patuerant." To the same purpose see lib. 
 xxxvi. cap. 15. ; also lib. xviii. cap. 2. 
 
 NOTE [MM.] p. 425. 
 
 " Moenia ejus (Romas) collegere ambitu imperatoribus, 
 <; censoribusque Vespasianis, A. IT. C. 828. pass. xiii. MCC. 
 " complexa montes septem, ipsa dividitur in regiones quatuor- 
 " decim compita earum 265. Ejusdem spatii mensura, cur- 
 *' rente a milliario in capite Rom. Fori statuto, ad singulas 
 " portas, qua? sunt hodie numero 37, ita ut duodecim porta? 
 " semel numerentur, praetereanturque ex veteribus septem, 
 <{ quae esse desierunt, efficit passuum per directum 30,775. 
 " Ad extrema vero tectorum cum castris praetoris ab eodem 
 " Milliario, per vicos omnium viarum, mensura collegit paulo 
 " amplius septuaginta millia passuum. Quo si quis altitudi- 
 " nem tectorum addat, dignam profecto, aestimationem con- 
 " cipiat, fateaturque nullius urbis magnitudinem in toto orbe 
 ,{ potuisse ei comparavi." Plin. lib. iii. cap. 5. 
 
 All the best manuscripts of Pliny read the passages as here 
 cited, and fix the compass of the walls of Rome to be thirteen 
 miles. The question is, What Pliny means by 30,775 paces, 
 and how that number was formed ? The manner in which I 
 conceive it is this. Rome was a semicircular area of thirteen 
 miles circumference. The Forum, and consequently the Mil-
 
 536 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 liarium, we know, was situated on the banks of the Tyber, 
 and near the centre of the circle, or upon the diameter of the 
 semicircular area. Though there were thirty-seven gates to 
 Rome, yet only twelve of them had straight streets, leading 
 from them to the Milliarium. Pliny, therefore, having as- 
 signed the circumference of Rome, and knowing that that 
 alone was not sufficient to give us a just notion of its surface, 
 uses this farther method. He supposes all the streets, leading 
 from the Milliarium to the twelve gates, to be laid together 
 into one straight line, and supposes we run along that line, so 
 as to count each gate once ; in which case, he says, that the 
 whole line is 30,775 paces ; or, in other words, that each street 
 or radius of the semicircular area is upon an average two miles 
 and a half; and the whole length of Rome is five miles, and 
 its breadth about half as much, besides the scattered suburbs. 
 
 Pere Hardouin understands this passage in the same man- 
 ner, with regard to the laying together the several streets of 
 Rome into one line, in order to compose 30,775 paces ; but 
 then he supposes that streets led from the Milliarium to every 
 gate, and that no street exceeded 800 paces in length. But, 
 1st, A semicircular area, whose radius was only 800 paces, 
 could never have a circumference near thirteen miles, the 
 compass of Rome as assigned by Pliny. A radius of two miles 
 and a half forms very nearly that circumference. 2d, There 
 is an absurdity in supposing a city so built as to have streets 
 running to its centre from every gate in its circumference ; 
 these streets must interfere as they approach. 3d, This di- 
 minishes too much fiom the greatness of ancient Rome, and 
 reduces that city below even Bristol or Rotterdam. 
 
 The sense which Vos>ius, in his Observationes vaiiae, puts 
 on this passage of Pliny, errs widely in the other extreme. 
 One manuscript of no authorit}', instead of thirteen miles, has 
 assigned thirty miles for the compass of the walls of Rome. 
 And Vo?sius understands this only of the curvilinear part of 
 the circumference ; supposing that, as the Tyber formed the 
 diameter, there were no walls built on that side. But, 1st, 
 This reading is allowed to be contrary to almost all the ma-
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 537 
 
 nuscripts. 2d, Why should Pliny, a concise writer, repeat the 
 compass of the walls of Rome in two successive sentences ? 
 3d, Why repeat it with so sensible a variation ? 4th, What is 
 the meaning of Pliny's mentioning twice the Milliarium, if a 
 line was measured that had no dependence on the Milliarium? 
 5th, Aurelian's wall is said by Vopiscus to have been drawn 
 laxiore ambitu, and to have comprehended all the buildings 
 and suburbs on the north side of the Tyber ; yet its compass 
 was only fifty miles ; and even here critics suspect some mis- 
 take or corruption in the text, since the walls which remain, 
 and which are supposed to be the same with Aurelian's, ex- 
 ceeds not twelve miles. It is not probable that Rome would 
 diminish from Augustus to Aurelian. It remained still the 
 capital of the same empire ; and none of the civil wars in that 
 long period, except the tumults on the death of Maximus and 
 Balbinus, ever affected the city. Caracalla is said by Aurelius 
 Victor to have increased Rome. 6th, There are no remains 
 of ancient buildings which mark any such greatness of Rome. 
 Vossius's reply to this objection seems absurd; that the rub- 
 bish would sink sixty or seventy feet under ground. It ap- 
 pears from Spartian fin vita SeveriJ that the five mile-stone 
 in via Lavicana was out of the city. 7th, Olympiodorus and 
 Publius Victor fix the number of houses in Rome to be be- 
 twixt forty and fifty thousand. 8th, The very extravagances 
 of the consequences drawn by this critic, as well as Lipsius, if 
 they be necessary, destroy the foundation on which they are 
 grounded ; that Rome contained fourteen millions of inhabi- 
 tants, while the whole kingdom of France contains only five, 
 according to his computation, &c. 
 
 The only objection to the sense which we have affixed above 
 to the passage of Pliny, seems to lie in this, that Pliny, after 
 mentioning the thirty-seven gates of Rome, assigns only a rea- 
 son for suppressing the seven old ones, and says nothing of 
 the eighteen gates ; the streets leading from which terminated, 
 according to my opinion, before they reached the Forum. 
 But as Pliny was writing to the Romans, who perfectly knew 
 the disposition of the streets, it is not strange he should take
 
 538 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 a circumstance for granted which was so familiar to every 
 body. Perhaps, too, many of these gates led to wharfs upon 
 the river. 
 
 NOTE [NN.] p. 427. 
 
 Quintus Curtius says, its walls were ten miles in circum- 
 ference, when founded hy Alexander, lib. iv. cap. S. Strabo, 
 who travelled to Alexandria as well as Diodorus Siculus, says 
 it was scarce four miles long, and in most places about a mile 
 broad, lib. xvii. Pliny said it resembled a Macedonian cas- 
 sock, stretching out in the corners, lib. v. cap. 10. Notwith- 
 standing this bulk of Alexandria, which seems but moderate, 
 Diodorus Siculus, speaking of its circuit as drawn by Alex- 
 ander, (which it never exceeded, as we learn from Ammianus 
 Marcellinus, lib. xxii. cap. 16.) says it was pnyiQu di^i^ra, 
 extremely great, ibid. The reason which he assigns for its sur- 
 passing all cities in the world (for he excepts not Rome) is, 
 that it contained 300,000 free inhabitants. He also mentions 
 the revenues of the kings, to wit, 6000 talents, as another 
 circumstance to the same purpose. No such mighty sum in 
 our eyes, even though we make allowance for the different 
 value of money. What Strabo says of the neighbouring coun- 
 try, means only that it was well-peopled, cikc-j^vx kx^u^. Might 
 not one affirm, without any great hyperbole, that the whole 
 banks of the river, from Gravesend to Windsor, are one city ? 
 This is even more than Strabo says of the banks of the lake 
 Mocrotis, aad of the canal to Canopus. It is a vulgar saying 
 in Italy, that the king of Sardinia has but one town in Pied- 
 mont, for it is all a town. Agrippa, in Josephus cle hello Ju- 
 daic, lib. ii. cap. 16., to make his audience comprehend the ex- 
 cessive greatness of Alexandria, which he endeavours to mag- 
 nify, describes only the compass of the city as drawn by Alex- 
 ander ; a clear proof that the bulk of the inhabitants were 
 lodged there, and that the neighbouring country was no more 
 than what might be expected about all great towns, very well 
 cultivated, and well peopled.
 
 NOTES TO THE FIKST TOLUME. 539 
 
 NOTE [00.] p. 428. 
 
 He says (in Nerone, cap. 30.) that a portico or piazza of it 
 was 3000 feet long ; " tanta laxitas ut porticus triplices millia- 
 " rias haberet." He cannot mean three miles ; for the whole 
 extent of the house from the Palatine to the Esquiline was 
 not near so great. So when Vopisc in Aureliano mentions a 
 portico in Sallust's gardens, which he calls porticus milliaricn- 
 sis, it must be understood of a thousand feet. So also Horace : 
 
 " Nulla decempedis 
 " Metata privatis opacam 
 " Porticus excipiebat Arcton." Lib. ii. Ode 15. 
 
 So also in lib. i. satyr 8. 
 
 " Tvlille pedes in fronte, trecentos cippus in agrum 
 " Hie dabat." 
 
 NOTE [PP.] p. 438. 
 
 It appears from Caesar's account, that the Gauls had no 
 domestic slaves, who formed a different order from the Plcbes. 
 The whole common people were indeed a kind of slaves to 
 the nobility, as the peopie of Poland are at this day; and a 
 nobleman of Gaul had sometimes ten thousand dependents of 
 this kind. Nor can we doubt that the armies were composed 
 of the people as well as of the nobility. An army of 100,000 
 noblemen, from a very small state, is incredible. The fight- 
 ing men among the Helvetii were the fourth part of the inha- 
 bitants ; a clear proof that all the males of military age bore 
 arms. See Caesar de hello Gall. lib. i. 
 
 We may remark, that the numbers in Caesar's commentaries 
 can be more depended on than those of any other ancient 
 author, because of the Greek translation, which still remains, 
 and which checks the Latin original.
 
 54-0 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 NOTE [QQ.] p. ill. 
 
 The inhabitants of Marseilles lost not their superiority over 
 the Gauls in commerce and the mechanic arts, till the Roman 
 dominion turned the latter from arms to agriculture and civil 
 life, see Strabo, lib. iv. That author, in several places, re- 
 peats the observation concerning the improvement arising 
 from the Roman arts and civility ; and he lived at the time 
 when the change was new, and would be more sensible. So 
 also Pliny: " Quis enim non communicato orbe terrarum, ma- 
 " jestate ilomani imperii, profecisse vitam putet, commercio 
 " rerum ac societate festa; pacis, omniaque etiam, quae occul- 
 " ta antea fuerant, in promiscuo usu facta. Lib. xiv. prcem. 
 " Numine deum electa (speaking of Italy) qiue coelum ipsum 
 " clarius faceret, sparsa congregaret imperia, ritusque molli- 
 '• ret, et tot populorum discordes, ferasque linguas scrmonis 
 " commercio contraheret ad colloquia, et humanitatem homi- 
 " ni daret; breviterque, una cunctarum gentium in toto orbe 
 <; patria fieret;" lib. ii, cap. 5. Nothing can be stronger 
 to this purpose than the following passage from Tertul- 
 lian, who lived about the age of Severus. " Certe quideni 
 *' ipse orbis impromtu est, cultior de die et instructior pris- 
 " tino. Omnia jam pervin, omnia nota, omnia negotiosa. So- 
 " litudines farnosas retro fundi amcenissimi obliteraverunt, 
 " silvas arva domucrunt, feras pecora fugaverunt ; arena? se- 
 " runtur, saxa panguntur, paludes eliquantur, tantas urbes, 
 " quanta? non casa? quondam. Jam nee insula? horrent, nee 
 " scopuli torrent ; ubique domus, ubique populus, ubique res- 
 " publica, ubique vita. Summum testimonium frequentiae hu- 
 " manae, onerosi sumus mundo, vix nobis elementa sufficiunt ; 
 " et necessitates arctiores, et querela? apud omnes, dum jam\ 
 " nos natura non sustinct." De anima, cap. 30. The air of 
 rhetoric and declamation which appears in this passage dimi- 
 nishes somewhat from its authority, but does not entirely de- 
 stroy it. The same remark may be extended to the following 
 passage of Aristides the sophist, who lived in the age of Adrian.
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 5 41 
 
 " The whole world," says he, addressing himself to the Ro- 
 mans, " seems to keep one holiday ; and mankind, laying aside 
 c< the sword which they formerly wore, now betake themselves 
 " to feasting and to joy. The cities, forgetting their ancient 
 " animosities, preserve only one emulation, which shall era- 
 " hellish itself most by every art and ornament : Theatres eve- 
 *' ry where arise, amphitheatres, porticos, aqueducts, temples, 
 " schools, academies ; and one may safely pronounce, that the 
 " sinking world has been again raised by your auspicious era- 
 " pire. Nor have cities alone received an increase of orna- 
 " ment and beauty ; but the whole earth, like a garden or pa- 
 " radise, is cultivated and adorned : Insomuch, that such of 
 " mankind as are placed out of the limits of your empire (who 
 " are but few) seem to merit our sympathy and compassion." 
 It is remarkable, that though Diodorus Siculus makes the 
 inhabitants of Egypt, when conquered by the Romans, amount 
 only to three millions ; yet Joseph, de Bello Jud. lib. ii. cap. 16. 
 says, that its inhabitants, excluding those of Alexandria, were 
 seven millions and a half, in the reign of Nero : And he ex- 
 pressly says, that he drew this account from the books of the 
 Roman Publicans, who levied the poll-tax. Strabo, lib. xvii. 
 praises the superior police of the Romans with regard to the 
 finances of Egypt, above that of its former monarchs : And no 
 part of administration is more essential to the happiness of a 
 people. Yet we read in Athenaeus, (lib. i. cap. 25.) who flou- 
 rished during the reign of the Antonines, that the town Ma- 
 reia, near Alexandria, which was formerly a large city, had 
 dwindled into a village. This is not, properly speaking, a con- 
 tradiction. Suiuas (August.) says, that the Emperor Au- 
 gustus, having numbered the whole Roman empire, found it 
 contained only 4,101,017 men («v^sj.) There is here surely 
 some great mistake, either in the author or transcriber. But 
 this authority, feeble as it is, may be sufficient to counterba- 
 lance the exaggerated accounts of Herodotus, and Diodorus 
 •Siculus, with regard to more early times.
 
 WZ NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 NOTE [RR.] p. 441. 
 
 Lib. ii. cap. 62. It ma r perhaps be imagined, that P0I3'- 
 bius, being dependent on Home, would naturally extol the 
 Roman dominion. But, in the hrst place, Polybius, though 
 one sees sometimes instances of his caution, discovers no 
 symptoms of flattery. Secondly, This opinion is only delivered 
 in 1 single stroke, by the bye, while he is intent upon another 
 subject ; and it is allowed, if there be any suspicion of an au- 
 thor's insincerity, that these oblique propositions discovered 
 his real opinion better than his more formal and direct asser- 
 tions. 
 
 NOTE [SS.] p. 413. 
 
 I must confess that that discourse of Plutarch, concerning 
 the silence of the oracles, is in general of so odd a texture and 
 so unlike his other productions, that one is at a loss what judg- 
 ment to form of it. It is written in dialogue, which is a me- 
 thod of composition that Plutarch commonly but little affects. 
 The personages he introduces advance very wild, absurd, and 
 contradictory opinions, more like the visionary systems or ra- 
 vings of Tlato than the plain sense of Plutarch. There runs 
 also through the whole an air of superstition and credulity, 
 which resembles very little the spirit that appears in other phi- 
 losophical compositions of that author. For it is remarkable, 
 that though Plutarch be an historian as superstitious as Hero- 
 dotus or Livy, yet there is scarcely, in all antiquity, a philo- 
 sopher less superstitious, excepting Cicero and Lucian. I 
 must therefore confess, that a pas-age of Plutarch, cited from 
 this discourse, has much less authority with me, than if it had 
 been found in most of Ins other compositions. 
 
 There is only one other discourse of Plutarch liable to like 
 objections, to wit, that concerning those iv/i >se punishment is de- 
 layed by the Deity. It is also writ in dialogue, contains like
 
 NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. o lb 
 
 superstitious, wild visions, and seems to have been chiefly 
 composed in rivalship to Plato, particularly his last book Dc 
 Repuhlica, 
 
 And here I cannot but observe, that Mons. Fontenclle, a 
 writer eminent for candour, seems to have departed a little 
 from his usual character, when he endeavours to throw a ridi- 
 cule upon Piutarch on account of passages to be met with in 
 this dialogue concerning oracles. The absurdities here put 
 into the mouths of the several personages are not to be ascri- 
 bed to Plutarch. He makes them refute each other ; and, in 
 general, he seems to intend the ridiculing of those very opi- 
 nions which Fontenelle would ridicule him for maintaining. 
 See Histoire des Oracles. 
 
 NOTE [TT.] p. 465. 
 
 It is remarkable, that in the remonstrance of the Duke of 
 Bourbon and the legitimate princes, against this destination of 
 Louis XIV. the doctrine of the original contract is insisted 
 on, even in that absolute government. The French nation, 
 say they, choosing Hugh Capet and his posterity to rule over 
 them and their posterity, when the former line fails, there is 
 a tacit right reserved to choose a new royal family; and this 
 right is invaded by calling the bastard princes to the throne, 
 without the consent of the nation. But the Comte de Bou- 
 lainvilliers, who wrote in defence of the bastard princes, ridi- 
 cules this notion of an original contract, especially when ap- 
 plied to Hugh Capet; who mounted the throne, says he, by 
 the same arts which have ever been employed by all conque- 
 rors and usurpers, He got his title, indeed, recognised by 
 the states after he had put himself in possession ; But is this a 
 choice or a contract: The Comte dc Bouiaiuvilliers, we rnav 
 observe, was a noted republican ; but being a man of learning, 
 and very conversant in history, he knew that the people were 
 never almost consulted in these revolutions and new establish-
 
 541« NOTES TO THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 merits, and that time alone bestowed right and authority on 
 what was commonly at first founded on force and violence. 
 
 See Elal dc la France, Vol. iii. 
 
 END OF THE FIRbT VOLUME. 
 
 Abcrncihy <$• Walker, Vii.iters 
 Edinburgh.
 
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